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Post by Tiw Fenris on Aug 13, 2010 1:14:06 GMT -5
The angels’ song, so mellifluous, was hammered away by discord; dissonance crossed the line. Though the thread that separated two territories choked by an imbroglio filled with perplexities and misunderstandings and what was intentionally stepped across was but a mere flux of control. And the puppeteer had abandoned ship and severed the threads that bound limbs to a wooden cross; the soft velvet of a disguised animal pelt released his hand and slid away, away…
At last.
The swimming nerve that she sought to fish with incendiary prods and gestures wriggled just beneath that pale skin within simmering blood, and – oh – it would be, in turn, much too egregious to let the little play-thing go. When the block of patience dissolved away at last, it was when the mold of something – or someone – more human began to emerge; that was much more satisfying that talking to a block. Though it really mattered not, for to touch in any sense was forbidden. Yet, the arrow was broken in two after tomorrow had begun.
Taut muscles contracted as Tiw pulled herself into a tailor-style sitting position. The disentanglement had brought to front the soreness of knotted muscles, tensed into unnaturalness; arms nonchalantly reached for the ceiling to shoo away the tension resting in her flesh. She decided that scarlet was indeed an attractive shade on the woman.
At the incredulous cry of her ill-colored companion, the fatuous nature of the wolf pup pranced about, out of the gaping cavern, and into a field to relish its newfound freedom. Unruly taupe-gray locks fell to one side and viridian eyes blinked in light, rapid succession as her mouth dropped open; another nudge at the wounded dove to provoke a peck when a noncommittal voice corrected, “What? Pirate? No, no. I’m a postman.” She shuffled around to face her laying companion. “Hm? Did I do something wrong?”
Amusement nudged her mind to an edge and she could either jump or be sliced in two. So when provoked, the wolf still chooses to live, and a much too gladdened simper spread across her countenance once again. “Or more importantly!” Should she reveal the façade, the play of situations so easily crafted under suspicious eyes? Lighten up. The missing organ began to beat – thump, thump – and plain lips opened to speak again, much to her own chagrin this time, “You should really get that flush checked!” She chuckled lightheartedly. “You’ve had it since last night.”
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Yūki
Suitor
Royalty
Posts: 29
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Post by Yūki on Aug 16, 2010 3:55:40 GMT -5
An avian figure, grounded to the sky by lengths of wire and taut coils, ever breaching the flesh and necks of life's nestlings. A flick of the wrist, the scalp jerked up in laconic amusement with a grin widespread. Scintillations of crystal flew from the mouth, less than a yawning hole, and in bloody streams, garnets from concave cheeks. The marionette who had strings a plenty, fish hooks in their arms and arms around their waist, could do no more than smile in abated apologies. The acceptance of Fate as their Master; the puppeteer who all but sneered at his toys. What then, is the puppet to do, but to play their part with grace?
"Not a pirate, but a postman." A mutter barely uttered over roars of internal confusion. Memory spoke to her of shipwrecks and rapiers a dozen. Pushing herself into a seated position, Yūki did not keep her eyes off the frost-bitten frames, slowly contemplating her mistaken words. Though it could be said that the rascal was simply pulling her leg, or she herself had allowed it to slip in brash recognition. But the sun that reached her eyes snapped engagement like an olive branch, and whilst partially sun-blind, her gaze refocused towards that of the unfortunate smoky depths within the inn.
And somewhere in the incunabulum of time, her lips curled in illusive humor, at a single invasive thought. Mayhaps it was time to remove herself from this pitiable den. Though it would be too far a stretch to reckon it to that of a wolf's lair, or a bear's abode, the motionless lumps beginning to stir was the first sign. This thought, attractive as it was, seemed to be an impossibility. For one, it was rather against her nature to leave the unfinished, unfinished. Secondly, she could not feel her feet, and those were rather important in order to walk.
Of course, what more could she need but an impertinent comment from the postman. Dark, roseate irises peered into the cool breeze of words, into the storm, with the flame blazing brighter than ever. "It certainly wouldn't be there if a certain postgirl kept her thoughts to herself." Even with such a hue prominent, Yūki felt it absolutely necessary to keep her condescending tone about her. Sadly, she did have to admit that the cause was not of her ailments, but from her companion who was, by in her own right, ripe with mischief and friskiness.
But she wished now to absquatulate straight through the piles of snow, kick the curbs of covered sidewalks, and to escape the purest form of heavy mortification. But she had already told herself as much, and certainly dwelling on the matter would not make it not so. All there was, was to breathe in the superfluous air, and watch time stagnate further into problems unresolved. If only she trusted the inn's facilities enough, she could make the escape through those puny cubbyholes that dared to call themselves windows...
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Post by Tiw Fenris on Aug 18, 2010 2:50:34 GMT -5
The skin-clung bones of digits expertly conditioned to wrangle milky throats and suffocate helpless bodies jerked the un-crafted doll with hapless abandon. Skin, broken and gouged, that lost its incandescent luster forever ago stretched and pulled away from flesh at the whim of each tyrannical pull. As abrasive curved metal lodged into lacerated skin and pulled – tug and tug – brittle bones danced to the will of shadows and dexterous fingers. The curious looming figure growled at an intruder – a mere passerby – who only sought to watch.
And oh, what an insult to be menaced at by a mere emulsion of shadow and air, so the wolf sought to bite. Might it be its utter debacle? It mattered not for demise was freedom. As flames on soft cheeks continued to grow, streams of sunlight grew from a glinting trickle to a scintillating flow through cracks of mildew and blackened slime. Ire-filled limbs stirred and voices rumbled of discontent when colorful dreams slipped through cracks of sanity solidified what was only a dream, it was verily the moment to leap into heaps of white, to throw what was momentary into the air and call it “experience.” But who was she to leave just yet? And when there was a wound – caused by play – to lick and nuzzle, to define it as “completion.”
When the comment was made, chilled irises lit up in white flame. Muchly amused by the grip on dignity Yuuki had, so she laughed. The blatant display of inappropriateness had stuck her sides and she clutched them tightly; though at once, a throb struck the back of head in memorial to the previous night’s “accident,” only mildly impeding her laughter. Laughter and pain entwined hands, and the postman couldn’t decide whether it was painful or funny as she winced and cackled at the same time.
Tiw eventually settled down, chest heaving from such exertion, catching her breath, “Well, it’s not a matter of what I did, but what we did.” And mayhaps the statement was much too brazen, but her vision alluded to nothing but humor. Though, she would have been most pleased to tease the poor woman some more, the sunlight’s keeper had opened its faucet to let it run through those pitiable holes named “windows.” So, another day begins.
“Ahh, well, as much as I would love to stay and bathe in such an afterglow,” that trademark grin plastered itself again, on her countenance, “I have more errands!” With no warning, she leapt to her feet with a tad too much exuberance and made for the door. “I’ll see you around, sunshine!” Enjoying the pet name for Yuuki and taking a flamboyant bow, she made her exit into white. tbc~
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