Post by Annalie Corey on Aug 23, 2006 1:09:54 GMT -5
Alia looked around nervously, half-adjusting the ribbons tying the dip in her v-neck shirt together before stopping, letting her hands fall limply to her sides as she walked. She hated this neighborhood, she hated it very much... With that thought in mind, she increased her speed from walking to jogging, making her fists into tight balls. She just wanted to get home and get online, not to stay here and wait for one of the gangs to come get her. Her small black corderoy backpack, with its collection of keychains, clicked and jingled loudly, and her ankle boots thumped strongly on the pavement. She wasn't very strong, but she could run like the wind.
Something humanoid-shaped suddenly blocked her view of the bright lights of the trolley terminal that would put her on the ride home. "Uhm... hello?" she said, skidding to a stop. Her breath came in short, deep bursts, and she leant on her knees. It was safe enough to rest now, even if she felt as if a dragon had just hatched in her stomach and unfurled its wings, filling her with a queasy feeling in her stomach and trembling in her limbs. She straightened after a moment, making to walk around the silent figure. It seemed to flicker, like a bad television signal made the screens flicker, before blocking her path again. "Excuse me, can I get through?" Her voice was taking on an annoyed tone. She tossed her blonde hair and fixed the tall, featureless shadow with a stare through her glasses.
It backed up into the light, the flouresence giving shape to its features. A beautiful Japanese woman, about seven feet in height, stood there, her lower face covered by a surgical mask. Fluttering her almond-shaped eyes coyly, she asked, "Atashi wa kirei?" Alia blinked, then pulled out a Japanese dictionary to look up the words.
"You want me to tell you if you're beautiful," she said doubtfully to the woman, green eyes skeptical. "That's a bit of a random question to ask a girl who just wants to get home." Straightening and putting away the dictionary, she started to go past the woman, towards the nine o'clock trolley to Corcoran Street. She flickered, moving once more into Alia's path.
The woman repeated her question. "Atashi wa kirei?" Frustrated, annoyed, and filled with a desire to get home, the blonde finally answered.
"Yes, whatever. Hai. Can I go home now?" The Japanese woman's eyes crinkled, but not with a smile. The dragon was roaring, telling Alia to just run to the trolley and get home, but the woman was in the way. Thin artist's fingers, not the blonde's, reached up and violently pulled off the surgical mask. Alia's eyes widened, following the mask to the ground before looking up at the face of her current annoyance. The Japanese woman's mouth was slit from ear-to-ear, exposing teeth and tongue in a macabre grin.
"Atashi wa kirei?" she repeated, her teeth clicking as her mouth made the motion. The sound had been muffled by the mask she had been wearing, but now it was clear.
The trolley's bell rang and it started to depart. Alia's shock ended then, and she screamed, bolting for the trolley. Not even her own speed was enough for her to get on the trolley and away from the slit-mouthed woman before she was caught. Her black boots left the ground. Her assailant drew a knife and calmly, disregarding the teen's struggles to get free, created incisions that cut Alia's mouth into the same fashion as her own. The blood spattered on the pavement, shining darkly in the flourescent lights. Smiling, the woman dropped the blonde to the ground and vanished in black smoke. A sickening thud echoed through the street as Alia's head collided with the ground after falling from a height of six feet and eleven inches.
In the morning, when the first trolley came by, all that was left was blood, gore, and her backpack- empty of sketchbook, pencils, camera... any identifying items, except her keychains and a small Barbie geisha doll.
-----------
Moirrey glanced around, walking forward on leaden feet towards the sirens. He could swear he heard someone laughing at him in the voice of a teenager as he continued towards what was possibly the last place he'd ever expected to see her, his little sister. And then he came to a dead stop, just two steps away from the line of yellow tape. Even though the police moved aside to let him through, he didn't want to. He didn't want to get any closer to the blood and the backpack that he recognized so well. Black corderoy with a leather bottom. "There's a small rectangle silver plate on the side," he said through a constricted throat. "It says "to be an artist means to never avert your eyes", am I right?" The police murmured a confirmation, looking at him with obvious unease.
Straightening and pushing his glasses back up his nose, Moirrey turned around. "When you're done with the-" he almost couldn't get the words out "-evidence?... I'd like the backpack and its contents." He wanted to check the pocket that Alia had, a secret compartment in the back of it. She kept her wallet and her pocket sketchbook there, along with a well-worn copy of her will. Never expecting to need it, she'd jokingly had a lawyer on Main Street write one up for her before she left on a trip to California a few months ago. In case of a plane hijacking, he supposed, then forced his mind back to the incident at hand. "I would like to bury it." With that much blood, it was unlikely that his little sister was still alive.
He swallowed convulsively. Thank god I'm not an artist. And with that morbid thought, he ran a hand through his dark hair and started to head home.
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OOC: Well, I claim first non-admin roleplay thread postage, don't I? Hehe, yay!
Anyway, the attack recorded earlier was indeed supernatural in origin. You can figure out the myth, can't you?... surely.
At any rate, unless someone else is willing to take over Sammy (and if someone wants to roleplay Dean, take him! O_O Take him I say!), there will be no brothers except in passing mention. Maybe a phone call, but even that's doubtful.
Try to keep your posts to third-person past tense. If you happen to slip, I won't yell or something. <3
Sam- SOMEONE TAKE HIM PLEASE. ;o; He can't be getting donuts the entire roleplay!
Deam- Annalie Corey
Something humanoid-shaped suddenly blocked her view of the bright lights of the trolley terminal that would put her on the ride home. "Uhm... hello?" she said, skidding to a stop. Her breath came in short, deep bursts, and she leant on her knees. It was safe enough to rest now, even if she felt as if a dragon had just hatched in her stomach and unfurled its wings, filling her with a queasy feeling in her stomach and trembling in her limbs. She straightened after a moment, making to walk around the silent figure. It seemed to flicker, like a bad television signal made the screens flicker, before blocking her path again. "Excuse me, can I get through?" Her voice was taking on an annoyed tone. She tossed her blonde hair and fixed the tall, featureless shadow with a stare through her glasses.
It backed up into the light, the flouresence giving shape to its features. A beautiful Japanese woman, about seven feet in height, stood there, her lower face covered by a surgical mask. Fluttering her almond-shaped eyes coyly, she asked, "Atashi wa kirei?" Alia blinked, then pulled out a Japanese dictionary to look up the words.
"You want me to tell you if you're beautiful," she said doubtfully to the woman, green eyes skeptical. "That's a bit of a random question to ask a girl who just wants to get home." Straightening and putting away the dictionary, she started to go past the woman, towards the nine o'clock trolley to Corcoran Street. She flickered, moving once more into Alia's path.
The woman repeated her question. "Atashi wa kirei?" Frustrated, annoyed, and filled with a desire to get home, the blonde finally answered.
"Yes, whatever. Hai. Can I go home now?" The Japanese woman's eyes crinkled, but not with a smile. The dragon was roaring, telling Alia to just run to the trolley and get home, but the woman was in the way. Thin artist's fingers, not the blonde's, reached up and violently pulled off the surgical mask. Alia's eyes widened, following the mask to the ground before looking up at the face of her current annoyance. The Japanese woman's mouth was slit from ear-to-ear, exposing teeth and tongue in a macabre grin.
"Atashi wa kirei?" she repeated, her teeth clicking as her mouth made the motion. The sound had been muffled by the mask she had been wearing, but now it was clear.
The trolley's bell rang and it started to depart. Alia's shock ended then, and she screamed, bolting for the trolley. Not even her own speed was enough for her to get on the trolley and away from the slit-mouthed woman before she was caught. Her black boots left the ground. Her assailant drew a knife and calmly, disregarding the teen's struggles to get free, created incisions that cut Alia's mouth into the same fashion as her own. The blood spattered on the pavement, shining darkly in the flourescent lights. Smiling, the woman dropped the blonde to the ground and vanished in black smoke. A sickening thud echoed through the street as Alia's head collided with the ground after falling from a height of six feet and eleven inches.
In the morning, when the first trolley came by, all that was left was blood, gore, and her backpack- empty of sketchbook, pencils, camera... any identifying items, except her keychains and a small Barbie geisha doll.
-----------
Moirrey glanced around, walking forward on leaden feet towards the sirens. He could swear he heard someone laughing at him in the voice of a teenager as he continued towards what was possibly the last place he'd ever expected to see her, his little sister. And then he came to a dead stop, just two steps away from the line of yellow tape. Even though the police moved aside to let him through, he didn't want to. He didn't want to get any closer to the blood and the backpack that he recognized so well. Black corderoy with a leather bottom. "There's a small rectangle silver plate on the side," he said through a constricted throat. "It says "to be an artist means to never avert your eyes", am I right?" The police murmured a confirmation, looking at him with obvious unease.
Straightening and pushing his glasses back up his nose, Moirrey turned around. "When you're done with the-" he almost couldn't get the words out "-evidence?... I'd like the backpack and its contents." He wanted to check the pocket that Alia had, a secret compartment in the back of it. She kept her wallet and her pocket sketchbook there, along with a well-worn copy of her will. Never expecting to need it, she'd jokingly had a lawyer on Main Street write one up for her before she left on a trip to California a few months ago. In case of a plane hijacking, he supposed, then forced his mind back to the incident at hand. "I would like to bury it." With that much blood, it was unlikely that his little sister was still alive.
He swallowed convulsively. Thank god I'm not an artist. And with that morbid thought, he ran a hand through his dark hair and started to head home.
----------------
OOC: Well, I claim first non-admin roleplay thread postage, don't I? Hehe, yay!
Anyway, the attack recorded earlier was indeed supernatural in origin. You can figure out the myth, can't you?... surely.
At any rate, unless someone else is willing to take over Sammy (and if someone wants to roleplay Dean, take him! O_O Take him I say!), there will be no brothers except in passing mention. Maybe a phone call, but even that's doubtful.
Try to keep your posts to third-person past tense. If you happen to slip, I won't yell or something. <3
Sam- SOMEONE TAKE HIM PLEASE. ;o; He can't be getting donuts the entire roleplay!
Deam- Annalie Corey
