Aw, I know the feel. My thoughts are with whatever critter it was. It's sad to say, but a pet dying always feels a little worse than a relative, but they always had a more meaningful mark at times.
I don't mind you critiquing my work, I like partners who are better than me so I can improve myself.
Take your time, I don't mind the wait.
tenebrae16 Member
STATUS: Tene's being productive, happy and cute! 8 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 2 mos ago
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 911 (0.20 / day)
- VMs: 2
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- tenebrae16 12 yrs ago
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8 yrs ago
Current
Tene's being productive, happy and cute!
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8 yrs ago
Needa learn to take my mind off all the bad feelings, all the bad thoughts...Slowly slowly getting better.
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8 yrs ago
I don't feel so good Mr Stark - Mood
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8 yrs ago
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH -the voices in my head
8 yrs ago
Yay, it's birthday!....Now whut?
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Checking in on
ViridianHue
Spiderlegs
Haven't heard from you both in a while, we're waiting :3
ViridianHue
Spiderlegs
Haven't heard from you both in a while, we're waiting :3
Well, I'm terrible at beginnings. D:
Red spots stained his vision, smog blurring the edges. Around him, the earth was shrouded in fog and soaked in a heady drizzle that felt good on his skin. Hot and cleansing, like fire running down the bare of his bruised skin. Perhaps it was just all the blood loss making him dizzy instead of his nonexistent appreciation of nature's refined beauty. He needed to get back to his camp, tend to his wounds and bring back news of the battle. They still had time to form a small militia and perform a quick strike against the enemy while they were weakened. Create a straightforward path for their troops to march directly to the gates, perhaps end this once and for all. Hah! Wishful thoughts of a dying man!
Each step felt like two lifting lead lined boulders, the weight forcing him into a hunched shuffle. The rain pelting down on him in torrents. Eventually, his knees gave out under him. The ground crashing into him, soft with rainwater and his own blood. He'd be damned if he should die now! Gritting his teeth, he crawled forward, nails digging into the dirt and dragging himself forward. Ahead of him, loomed high walls of twisted copper, glimmering darkly in the gloom.
"Father, will you please read to us once we are done unpacking the rations?" Bright eyed, Andrew gazed up at him with the sort of look that would be illegal to refuse. A deep chuckle left him, reaching out, he ruffled the boy's hair. Around him, the others had paused with their boxes in hand, freezing halfway through sorting cans of preserved fruit, newspaper wrapped vegetables and the bottled rice water that the women were so fond of, ears pricked. The older ones tried to appear busy, pretending that they had outgrown the interest over such story sessions, only wandering near enough to eavesdrop because they had nothing better to do or the mantle near by was in need of a wipe down or the heater had to be refilled with coal. Just going about doing their chores, perhaps only catching a part of the story out of vague interest or chance.
"I shall run out of stories at this rate." He said ruefully, receiving a look of incredulity in return that earned another laugh on his part. That was, before the sirens rang.
The box hit the ground, tipping over to allow several cans to roll out. Those could always be picked up later. Right now, the hall was in a state of orderly chaos. Panic repressed as they marched down into the basement, alongside the anxious tradesmen that rushed in, arms full of their precious livelihood. Scrambling past the pews and trying to push their way past the young children calmly lining up to head down to the basement. Disgusting, but they were only panicked. Panic made people do things they didn't mean to do, it made them blind, not belligerent. Priestly, he intervened to calm them and make sure that the younger ones made their way down past the heavy steel doors first.
It didn't last long. They had just crammed everyone down into the dank concrete room before the sirens ended, cutting off quickly. A breathy chuckle leaving him as his heart dropped back down into his chest. Leaning against the cool wall, he caught himself and ushered everyone out after the silence confirmed that it was safe.
"Perhaps we should move up our story telling session, only this once." He announced as the tradesmen filed out, grumbling under the breath. The younger ones cheered while the elder feigned disinterest, continuing to help unpack the boxes closest to the circle they formed along the upraised stage at the back of the great church. Planting himself on the step, he searched his memory for some new story, preferably one to calm them down after the whole ordeal.
Ollie and Andy settled down beside him, knees pulled up to their chests. Bella right by his feet and the Snicket siblings kneeling by her side. The corners of his lips twitched upward and he lifted little Jacob onto his knee. It was a familiar scene.
Each step felt like two lifting lead lined boulders, the weight forcing him into a hunched shuffle. The rain pelting down on him in torrents. Eventually, his knees gave out under him. The ground crashing into him, soft with rainwater and his own blood. He'd be damned if he should die now! Gritting his teeth, he crawled forward, nails digging into the dirt and dragging himself forward. Ahead of him, loomed high walls of twisted copper, glimmering darkly in the gloom.
"Father, will you please read to us once we are done unpacking the rations?" Bright eyed, Andrew gazed up at him with the sort of look that would be illegal to refuse. A deep chuckle left him, reaching out, he ruffled the boy's hair. Around him, the others had paused with their boxes in hand, freezing halfway through sorting cans of preserved fruit, newspaper wrapped vegetables and the bottled rice water that the women were so fond of, ears pricked. The older ones tried to appear busy, pretending that they had outgrown the interest over such story sessions, only wandering near enough to eavesdrop because they had nothing better to do or the mantle near by was in need of a wipe down or the heater had to be refilled with coal. Just going about doing their chores, perhaps only catching a part of the story out of vague interest or chance.
"I shall run out of stories at this rate." He said ruefully, receiving a look of incredulity in return that earned another laugh on his part. That was, before the sirens rang.
The box hit the ground, tipping over to allow several cans to roll out. Those could always be picked up later. Right now, the hall was in a state of orderly chaos. Panic repressed as they marched down into the basement, alongside the anxious tradesmen that rushed in, arms full of their precious livelihood. Scrambling past the pews and trying to push their way past the young children calmly lining up to head down to the basement. Disgusting, but they were only panicked. Panic made people do things they didn't mean to do, it made them blind, not belligerent. Priestly, he intervened to calm them and make sure that the younger ones made their way down past the heavy steel doors first.
It didn't last long. They had just crammed everyone down into the dank concrete room before the sirens ended, cutting off quickly. A breathy chuckle leaving him as his heart dropped back down into his chest. Leaning against the cool wall, he caught himself and ushered everyone out after the silence confirmed that it was safe.
"Perhaps we should move up our story telling session, only this once." He announced as the tradesmen filed out, grumbling under the breath. The younger ones cheered while the elder feigned disinterest, continuing to help unpack the boxes closest to the circle they formed along the upraised stage at the back of the great church. Planting himself on the step, he searched his memory for some new story, preferably one to calm them down after the whole ordeal.
Ollie and Andy settled down beside him, knees pulled up to their chests. Bella right by his feet and the Snicket siblings kneeling by her side. The corners of his lips twitched upward and he lifted little Jacob onto his knee. It was a familiar scene.
Well, I was thinking he could also use the guns as sort of braces? That's not the right word, but they sort of double up as protection....ah I'm coming to have to paint the picture when it happens because I can't describe it straight forwardly.
Anyway, gimme a while, first IC will be up soon :3
Anyway, gimme a while, first IC will be up soon :3
Heh, same with me, characters just take on a life of their own, but it becomes so that sometimes I don't even know their lives till they explain it themselves. I often want to give my character unusual names so they're more memorable.
I think you're fine with the steam punk attire, we could've one really overboard and have them in clothing made completely of gears! That would be pushing it a little. I like your choice of weapon, very...what's the word?..potent I suppose. So shall we start? Who first?
I think you're fine with the steam punk attire, we could've one really overboard and have them in clothing made completely of gears! That would be pushing it a little. I like your choice of weapon, very...what's the word?..potent I suppose. So shall we start? Who first?
Yup, he's sort of abandoned his whole demonic life. Sorry about the scarcity in detail, I like to keep things vague.
Name: Sanias Cináed(formerly)
Xephos Note
Race: Archdemon
Age: 167 (appears 37)
Height: 6'2
Weight: 64.6 kg, rather lean for his height.
Hair: Dusty browned jaw length locks, slicked back straight against it's natural curl so at times random curls stick out much to his annoyance. When it's not groomed, it spikes out in a mess of curls, bangs hanging just above his eyes.
Eyes: Iridescent green (human)
Crimson red (demonic)
Skin: lightly tanned (human)
Pale beige, tinted purple (demonic)
Build: Lean bothering on lanky
Clothes: Black long clergy shirt with the typical clerical collar, but black pants in place of the typical robe.
Accessories: none
Powers/Skills(If Applicable):
-Illusion
-Sharpshooter
-Ability to summon custom dual pistols
-Flight
-Ability to subtly invoke feelings of negativity
General Personality: As a demon, he was ruthless. Leaving the war, he could still be ruthless, but in a different way. Generally regretful of his actions, he'd do anything to leave behind what he's done.
Background: Sanias was said to be the general leading the Western front invasion, ruthless and blood thirsty, he was better known as 'The corrupted' for how he dealt with angels.
Sanias is said to have died in the battle of Grandus, after both sides were decimated from the battle and no survivors were ever recovered.
Hope that it's alright. I don't wanna give too much away.
Xephos Note
Race: Archdemon
Age: 167 (appears 37)
Height: 6'2
Weight: 64.6 kg, rather lean for his height.
Hair: Dusty browned jaw length locks, slicked back straight against it's natural curl so at times random curls stick out much to his annoyance. When it's not groomed, it spikes out in a mess of curls, bangs hanging just above his eyes.
Eyes: Iridescent green (human)
Crimson red (demonic)
Skin: lightly tanned (human)
Pale beige, tinted purple (demonic)
Build: Lean bothering on lanky
Clothes: Black long clergy shirt with the typical clerical collar, but black pants in place of the typical robe.
Accessories: none
Powers/Skills(If Applicable):
-Illusion
-Sharpshooter
-Ability to summon custom dual pistols
-Flight
-Ability to subtly invoke feelings of negativity
General Personality: As a demon, he was ruthless. Leaving the war, he could still be ruthless, but in a different way. Generally regretful of his actions, he'd do anything to leave behind what he's done.
Background: Sanias was said to be the general leading the Western front invasion, ruthless and blood thirsty, he was better known as 'The corrupted' for how he dealt with angels.
Sanias is said to have died in the battle of Grandus, after both sides were decimated from the battle and no survivors were ever recovered.
Hope that it's alright. I don't wanna give too much away.
"Are you sure about this? Are you really really sure of this? Making sure statements is a very bold move." The wind dragon spoke softly, bringing the steaming cup of tea to his lips, white eyes staring casually at the basin of water stood inbetween all of them, shimmering dimly in the light filtering from the entrance. It was a tradition, of sorts, to have a keepsake from each dragon placed in the centre to symbolize their part and unity as a counsel. The tradition had long since faded when they started losing members, friends, family, entire clans until it was almost like taboo to speak of their fallen comrades. He supposed, it was their down fall.
"I am sure, the days of Aureum A' Tua are over. Dare I say, the elders have been too merciful before us, many a death is on the counsels' hand for our complacency, our ignorance. The blood of our own flesh stains our hands. We have not acted fast enough, look around you, we have fallen apart. We have let ourselves be picked off."
"What do you suggest, we do then? Retaliate? They outnumber us, they have the ability to destroy our lands further. We have crossed that threshold of their fear being our advantage. They have long since become weapons of their own right. We have let them alone too long, what do you suggest we do now?"
"A fail safe. A means to the beginning end. Should we fall, let there be a few to remain and rebuild. A few to stop the chaos from spreading throughout the earth. Be there but one survivor, that will be enough reason to begin anew. It is not pleasant news, not for what is expected to befall us, but it is perhaps the best chance out kind shall have. The only chance we have."
"And who do you expect to be the saviors of our entire race? Who would you see fit? This is a serious matter you have brought up, even a more dangerous solution. Who will lead the new era?"
A smirk, a sad glint in her eye, "I'd expect no less of the council and whoever is strong enough to awaken them for the new age. Perhaps it is not the right choice, but what else have we to lose?"
Who are you? Why do you show me such things? Such nightmares, such memories. All the suffering. Why do you see fit to torture me so, my dear love?
I pity you. A thing worth less than dirt. Pitiful worthless creature. You're suffering is barely worth a thing to me. To anyone. The only thing you're good for fails to exist.
But I am king!
You are destined to die, but even death does not want you. Worthless.
His restraints were far too tight, the metal biting into his skin. Instinct told him to struggle, a lesser notion made him want to tell Ferrum to stop playing around, but the metal dragon was not here. Not as far as he could tell. The light was blinding as he opened his eyes, the burning smell of anesthetic burning his nostrils. He sought to lift his head but found himself unable to. A soft groan left him and was answered by several more returning groans.
"Regnum?" "Terra?" Another longer drawn out groan followed by snoring, "Leo?" "Five more days..."
"You're awake. You shouldn't be." A voice drifted over from across the room. Regnum shifted, trying to turn his head and catch sight of the wind dragon, but he couldn't, "They'll be coming to separate all of you. They already took Charon and Ferrum, though they're going to be doing worse to yoy. You've given him something to hate you for. I doubt you will continue to be anesthetized for the rest of your procedures." "What are you talking about? Anemoli, come free us!" "I am sorry, that is not within my authorization. Talk among yourselves, they shall be here for you soon..."
"Liar!" He swung around and pounced forward, sword in hand. The blade swung forward before it was abruptly stopped inches from the mirror and the dragon leaned in close, golden eyes nearly transparent, yet filled with a madness, a mockery as he pulled back and laughed, "I am king. I have always been king. I know you, inside and out, better than yourself. I know you. You are no more than a apparition. A false memory. I have your ash to prove it."
With that, he turned and waved off the question, "You, specter, I am tired. Leave me be. I hath no time for your questions, my children are waking, they have a busy day ahead..."
"I am sure, the days of Aureum A' Tua are over. Dare I say, the elders have been too merciful before us, many a death is on the counsels' hand for our complacency, our ignorance. The blood of our own flesh stains our hands. We have not acted fast enough, look around you, we have fallen apart. We have let ourselves be picked off."
"What do you suggest, we do then? Retaliate? They outnumber us, they have the ability to destroy our lands further. We have crossed that threshold of their fear being our advantage. They have long since become weapons of their own right. We have let them alone too long, what do you suggest we do now?"
"A fail safe. A means to the beginning end. Should we fall, let there be a few to remain and rebuild. A few to stop the chaos from spreading throughout the earth. Be there but one survivor, that will be enough reason to begin anew. It is not pleasant news, not for what is expected to befall us, but it is perhaps the best chance out kind shall have. The only chance we have."
"And who do you expect to be the saviors of our entire race? Who would you see fit? This is a serious matter you have brought up, even a more dangerous solution. Who will lead the new era?"
A smirk, a sad glint in her eye, "I'd expect no less of the council and whoever is strong enough to awaken them for the new age. Perhaps it is not the right choice, but what else have we to lose?"
Who are you? Why do you show me such things? Such nightmares, such memories. All the suffering. Why do you see fit to torture me so, my dear love?
I pity you. A thing worth less than dirt. Pitiful worthless creature. You're suffering is barely worth a thing to me. To anyone. The only thing you're good for fails to exist.
But I am king!
You are destined to die, but even death does not want you. Worthless.
His restraints were far too tight, the metal biting into his skin. Instinct told him to struggle, a lesser notion made him want to tell Ferrum to stop playing around, but the metal dragon was not here. Not as far as he could tell. The light was blinding as he opened his eyes, the burning smell of anesthetic burning his nostrils. He sought to lift his head but found himself unable to. A soft groan left him and was answered by several more returning groans.
"Regnum?" "Terra?" Another longer drawn out groan followed by snoring, "Leo?" "Five more days..."
"You're awake. You shouldn't be." A voice drifted over from across the room. Regnum shifted, trying to turn his head and catch sight of the wind dragon, but he couldn't, "They'll be coming to separate all of you. They already took Charon and Ferrum, though they're going to be doing worse to yoy. You've given him something to hate you for. I doubt you will continue to be anesthetized for the rest of your procedures." "What are you talking about? Anemoli, come free us!" "I am sorry, that is not within my authorization. Talk among yourselves, they shall be here for you soon..."
"Liar!" He swung around and pounced forward, sword in hand. The blade swung forward before it was abruptly stopped inches from the mirror and the dragon leaned in close, golden eyes nearly transparent, yet filled with a madness, a mockery as he pulled back and laughed, "I am king. I have always been king. I know you, inside and out, better than yourself. I know you. You are no more than a apparition. A false memory. I have your ash to prove it."
With that, he turned and waved off the question, "You, specter, I am tired. Leave me be. I hath no time for your questions, my children are waking, they have a busy day ahead..."
I have not seen you in a long time friend, how's life?
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