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I didn't go crazy, because Devika's power is much stronger when she concentrates...
But Gretchen should be feeling quite a bit different.
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Devika didn't have time to react before Gretchen touched her face. The contact was too much- especially because she was already having a sensitive day.
Her emotions began to flood Gretchen's mind, though her fingertips. Devika began to absorb hers in return, and couldn't will her overtaxed mind to make her body move away. The prolonged contact made things much more intense, much faster than they'd ever been before.
The first was a subtle, constant feeling that she was lesser than everyone in this school. They had been born to privilege, and so they were steps ahead of her in ways she couldn't even fathom.
Inferiority.
The next was a deep sadness, that so many people thought she was dangerous. She didn't want to be dangerous! She wanted people to like her. She wanted someone to care. Unfortunately, she was a nobody. She could go days without speaking to anyone, and no one would even notice.
Isolation.
Finally, there was a horrible sense of not knowing where she was going. That her destiny, whatever it may be, so far off in the distance that it was impossible to tell if she was going toward it, or away from it. Who was she, and what was she doing with her life?
Aimlessness.
In return, Devika began to draw in Gretchen's emotions. Suddenly, she was confident, beautiful, assured. She was better than Gretchen- than the whole school! They thought she was dangerous, and they were right! Just because she was husky, didn't mean she wasn't damn beautiful. Men liked curves, and she had them to spare! Her mind worked in ways most of these born-supers couldn't even dream of. She'd grown up living a normal kid life with average parents- she'd worked for what she had, while they'd just had their destinies handed to them. Why was she worried? She could make her way, and god help anyone who wanted to stop her.
Who was this skinny blonde bitch touching her?
Devika reeled back, formed a fist, and slammed it right into Gretchen's crimson painted mouth. "Excuse me, but you don't know me like that. Step aside, twiggy." She shoved Gretchen away, putting her weight into it. "Touch me again, and I'll make you so sad you'll wish your mother had aborted you." She nodded to Austin, and started walking away with her generous hips swaying.
Her emotions began to flood Gretchen's mind, though her fingertips. Devika began to absorb hers in return, and couldn't will her overtaxed mind to make her body move away. The prolonged contact made things much more intense, much faster than they'd ever been before.
The first was a subtle, constant feeling that she was lesser than everyone in this school. They had been born to privilege, and so they were steps ahead of her in ways she couldn't even fathom.
Inferiority.
The next was a deep sadness, that so many people thought she was dangerous. She didn't want to be dangerous! She wanted people to like her. She wanted someone to care. Unfortunately, she was a nobody. She could go days without speaking to anyone, and no one would even notice.
Isolation.
Finally, there was a horrible sense of not knowing where she was going. That her destiny, whatever it may be, so far off in the distance that it was impossible to tell if she was going toward it, or away from it. Who was she, and what was she doing with her life?
Aimlessness.
In return, Devika began to draw in Gretchen's emotions. Suddenly, she was confident, beautiful, assured. She was better than Gretchen- than the whole school! They thought she was dangerous, and they were right! Just because she was husky, didn't mean she wasn't damn beautiful. Men liked curves, and she had them to spare! Her mind worked in ways most of these born-supers couldn't even dream of. She'd grown up living a normal kid life with average parents- she'd worked for what she had, while they'd just had their destinies handed to them. Why was she worried? She could make her way, and god help anyone who wanted to stop her.
Who was this skinny blonde bitch touching her?
Devika reeled back, formed a fist, and slammed it right into Gretchen's crimson painted mouth. "Excuse me, but you don't know me like that. Step aside, twiggy." She shoved Gretchen away, putting her weight into it. "Touch me again, and I'll make you so sad you'll wish your mother had aborted you." She nodded to Austin, and started walking away with her generous hips swaying.
Dioxide, the grades are all they see! It's the actual proof that you put the work into your passion. Richer content for an essay is one thing, but plenty of people can write an essay.
Kijani adjusted her grip on the apple after Mr. Croil's instruction. It was very nice to see him smile, even a little. She wanted to see it again- it made him look so much different, so gentle. She listened to him closer, wondering if she was only imagining the increase of warmth in his tone.
The idea of a harvest sounded so very simple. Although her reflexive thought was to dismiss it as something simple and rustic, she followed that one with another, new type of thought. Simple and rustic was not bad. In fact, a dance party that was actually a dance party sounded very nice, considering all the other parties she'd ever been to were excuses for people to make alliances rather than friends, and to check out who was doing what. Dancing was less of a fun activity, and more of a way to gain favor with interested people. She wondered what that would be like- dancing for the sake of music and joy.
They stopped near the porch, and she knew she should get off. It was odd for her to realize that she didn't want the conversation to end. Before she could ask more about the harvest dancing, Feather appeared and started talking. She smiled, hiding her disappointment behind a carefully cultured mask. She wondered what Mr. Croil had against this Mr. Brandleman, and what she should know. If she was to shop, she didn't want to get cheated.
Once Feather departed back into the house, she turned to Mr. Croil. “Thank you for the ride back, and the apple. You truly are a wonderful farmer.” She smiled warmly. “If it's alright, I do believe I'll stay for the harvest. I haven't enjoyed dancing in quite a while.” Her gaze turned away from him briefly. “Erm... Feather didn't seem to catch it, but it's quite unmissable. There is obviously some bad blood between you and this Mr. Brandleman. Is there anything I should know about, before I give him any of my coin?”
The idea of a harvest sounded so very simple. Although her reflexive thought was to dismiss it as something simple and rustic, she followed that one with another, new type of thought. Simple and rustic was not bad. In fact, a dance party that was actually a dance party sounded very nice, considering all the other parties she'd ever been to were excuses for people to make alliances rather than friends, and to check out who was doing what. Dancing was less of a fun activity, and more of a way to gain favor with interested people. She wondered what that would be like- dancing for the sake of music and joy.
They stopped near the porch, and she knew she should get off. It was odd for her to realize that she didn't want the conversation to end. Before she could ask more about the harvest dancing, Feather appeared and started talking. She smiled, hiding her disappointment behind a carefully cultured mask. She wondered what Mr. Croil had against this Mr. Brandleman, and what she should know. If she was to shop, she didn't want to get cheated.
Once Feather departed back into the house, she turned to Mr. Croil. “Thank you for the ride back, and the apple. You truly are a wonderful farmer.” She smiled warmly. “If it's alright, I do believe I'll stay for the harvest. I haven't enjoyed dancing in quite a while.” Her gaze turned away from him briefly. “Erm... Feather didn't seem to catch it, but it's quite unmissable. There is obviously some bad blood between you and this Mr. Brandleman. Is there anything I should know about, before I give him any of my coin?”
Rupdeus, it's nice to have a new player. If I may make a suggestion- expand your sentences a little. Your character woke up. (What did he see? How did he feel? What were his thoughts?) He walked around. (Is he stiff from being in stasis? Do his knuckles drag on the metal floor because he's so huge?) Little details like that can take you from bland to awesome, and you don't need paragraphs to do it.
Kijani scowled at the thought of being used. She'd had plenty of that in her life, and it had led to her rise to power in the galaxy. One incident had changed her life, made her realize what the world was. It made her know, without a shadow of a doubt, that some people would do absolutely anything to get what they wanted.
"No one uses me. No one." Her voice was cold and flat, as she looked back at Marcus. "Never again." A toothy smile made her yellow eyes seem somehow manic. "I say we take it to these mercs when they arrive. Let them know they won't be using us for anything but tickets to an early grave."
"No one uses me. No one." Her voice was cold and flat, as she looked back at Marcus. "Never again." A toothy smile made her yellow eyes seem somehow manic. "I say we take it to these mercs when they arrive. Let them know they won't be using us for anything but tickets to an early grave."
Whee! Where to begin?
Do our characters already have their powers?
Do our characters already have their powers?
Devika considered his words, nodding a bit once he was done. "I suppose that's true, but I can't really fight at all. I am going to be working on that, though. So many people look at me, and just see a fat girl with wild clothes. I've never... wanted to be more before." She shrugged and grinned a bit. "I guess you have it made, being a hero's kid and all. You already know what's expected of you."
You do that alot yourself, Avan.
Nice to see you back!
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