Post by foxxalicious on Apr 1, 2014 3:54:53 GMT
So I'm bored and want to show off some writing things I've had for a while. Some are long roleplay posts, others are ones I've written but haven't used because the roleplay died, or writing I want to post (because I'm a dork). So yay. Enjoy~
{ Magdalene }
Magdalene's gaze fixated on the building in front of her, her eyes sweeping the seemingly skyscraping castle as she searched for an entrance. Her friend Gabriela -- 'Gabby', as everyone one called her -- had told her about a back door of sorts that sounded much easier to enter then the front door. Gabby had also told her that very few people (or none at all) would be near in that area at this point of the day. Magdalene smirked. Gabby's nickname was very telling. The girl gabbed and gabbed -- which was very helpful in Magdalene's case. Luckily for her, Gabby knew a lot about the castle grounds. However, all the knowledge Magdalene had about the castle did not help in relieving her nervousness. Sure, Magdalene had been a rather accomplished thief ever since her father broke his back and was unable to steadily support the family. But none of her heists were ever on a scale this big. So Magdalene had a right to be nervous.
Making her way towards the castle, Magdelene brushed a few strands of hair out of her tanned face, tying her long hair back with a thin strip of leather. Changing her gait into a leisurely jog, Magdalene quickly made her way up the slope. After a five minute jog, she reached the side of the castle wall and skirted around part of the castle until she reached the door of which Gabby had spoken. Crouching down and pulling a set of crudely made lock picks out of her pants pocket -- Magdelene didn't believe in dresses -- she set to work on the door. Her hands shook a little bit as nervous energy pulsed through them.
Stop freaking out, Magdalene. It's just in and out. Routine stuff. It won't be any harder then a bakery or robbing the market. Magdalene silently reprimanded herself, shaking her head and keeping her hands steady. Hearing the lock click, she stuffed the tools into her pocket and stood on her feet. She immediately regretted wearing boots. The shoes were at least a size too big and clunked whenever she walked. It was already surprising she had made it up the hill without breaking her ankle, let alone tripping. Removing the boots and grabbing them with one hand, Magdalene slowly opened the door -- which made a deep creaking sound as it opened, causing Magdalene to wince and stop at random intervals -- till it was halfway open, sliding into the cool, almost dank room and shutting the door with more creaks and a thud. Gabby hadn't told her this door creaked.
Keeping her footsteps almost completely silent, Magdalene entered a hallway and followed and imaginary map inside of her head. Her steps were quick and concise, making her exploration of the dimly-lit hallway fast-going. She brushed her fingers along the stone walls and wooden doors -- it was an old habit of hers -- as she tried to remember the layout of the bottom floor. Mostly storage rooms full of food, she knew that much. Her mouth watered at the thought of rooms full of food. Swallowing the stop the drool that was bound to exit her mouth, Magdalene stopped in front of a door. Her hand reached for the doorknob but stopped just before she rested her hand on the metal knob.
Footsteps. Her hand lurched back as if the doorknob was on fire and her hand would burn if she was even close to it. Slowly backing away, she turned just in time to avoid a wall, but her boots made contact with the stone and gave of a nice, loud thud. Magdalene groaned silently. Not wanting to be caught by the owner of the footsteps, Magdalene whirled around, and all in the same moment a number of bad things happened: her hair came undone & her clumsiness kicked in, causing her to trip over her own feet, which then in turn caused her to run into a wall, and running into a wall made her fall back and land on her but. So much for stealthy. Magdalene cajoled herself. Moving her thick hair out of her face, Magdalene groaned and held her face in her hands. Her face felt like it was on fire, and her nose stung. Running into thick, stone walls wasn't supposed to be on her agenda for this raid.
Darn clumsiness. She thought, scowling through the pain. Her mama had always told her that her clumsiness and disregard for 'looking before she leaped' was going to get her killed someday, and by Jove, it turned out her mom was right. Magdalene attempted to stand, but the pain in her tailbone and her ribs, along with nearly every other bone and muscle in her body, made it next to impossible. So Magdalene sat there, scooting into a doorway. That would at least be out of the way.
But not her boots. Her boots were still in the hallway, one standing up straight, the other leaning against it. She grimaced and leaned to one side, eventually hitting the floor and dragging herself with her hands. Grabbing the boots -- with some difficulty -- Magdalene started to slide back towards the doorway.
{ Ingrid }
Ingrid stood out in a crowd. Not just because of her quirky fashion sense, or her backpack adorned with marker drawings and pins she had collected over the years, but because of the way she carried herself. Ingrid had confidence uncommon in a high-schooler with limited friends and a personality you had to appreciate to be kind to. Most of that never bothered her though. She had markers, anime, and chocolate. She was happy. She walked in the middle of the crowd, parting her peers like Moses parting the Red Sea. If one glanced at her, most would walk out of the way. Her looks aren't what one could call 'terrifying', but they were odd enough to 'turn people off'. She often wore a black miniskirt, with multicolored leggings, always homemade. Her mother had taught her to sew at a young age, as she had said "all you need is a needle and thread, and you can live off one item of clothing for years". And, it was slightly true. Ingrid would use a seam ripper to split leggings and create her own. Uncommon for today's people, but hey, Ingrid liked the uncommon.
In her arms, she carried a notebook, and numerous loose leaf papers adorned with drawings and random words or phrases. On her arms were fade outlines of words and drawings, hopelessly attempted to be scrubbed off the night before. Today, she was wearing her average outfit: a black miniskirt, a pair of leggings: one leg purple, the other pink, and a top with pink and purple horizontal stripes. Odd, yes, but beautiful in her mind.
Ingrid's hair fell down to her shoulders, a deep auburn color, which only added to her looks. Her eyes were a deep green, what one would call forest green, and had an excited quality to them. Ingrid was neither short nor tall, and stood at average height, only 5'6.
She entered the room shortly after, well, nearly everyone. She quickly glanced at the name on the glass, opened the door, and stepped inside. She looked around the room before asking: "This is honors English, right?" She said as she adjusted the straps of her backpack on her shoulders.
{ Anna }
The sea shook the boat back and forth as the sea often did, and Anna held a glass of wine in her hands as Anna often did. Despite the early hours of the morning, alcohol -- more specifically, pinot noir -- was Anna's drink of choice. The girl stood by the rail of the ship, one hand poised on the rail and the other holding her glass. The cold and salty sea wind blew her hair in her face, but she remained looking out into the sea with a glassy look in her eyes. Every once in a while, Anna would bring the glass up to her lips and take a sip of wine.
To some she looked like a sentry. Anna almost never left her post, even though she was there voluntarily. She stood and watched for hours, with no obvious purpose. It was amazing that she was able to stand so long, considering she was a woman of high social standing and, atop of that, she was pregnant. Her swollen stomach revealed she was rather far in, six months maybe. And for the six months of her pregnancy, she had been there, standing at her post: Anna, the wine, and the sea.
And on this day, nothing was different. Anna stood, glass in hand, frown on lips, hair in face, hand on rail. Down to the last detail, she was the same. And she stood.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I never knew something horrible would happen that night. That day had started out so happy.....Joseph and I had only been married for 3 months, and were still 'madly in love'. We had settled down that night with a bottle of pinot noir -- Joseph preferred port himself, but I always convinced him to have what I preferred. I was a little charmer in that way. After laying down with the love of my life, I slowly drifted off to a deep sleep. The bottle seems to have that effect on me; even if I drink it in moderation. I had gone a bit overboard that night and had drunken most of the bottle, something that Joseph had always tried to prevent me from doing. Sadly, he failed in his attempts.
I didn't wake up immediately. The wine hadn't worn off yet and the drunkenness seemed to caress me and make me blind to the events of that dreadful night. But movement in the bed stirred me into a lucid state, lifting my head inches above the pillow to see what had caused Joseph's action.
"Joseph, what...what's going on?" I asked, half-asleep and drowsy.
"Stay in bed, Anna," Joseph said. His tone was stern and I was in no place to argue with him.
As Joseph left the room, I pulled the blanket up, resting the seams under my arms and relaxing my neck. I turned my head sideways and stared at the door rather intently, hoping Joseph would return and say nothing was the matter.
But then I heard a gunshot.
I immediately reached a fully conscious state and sat up, a chill running down my spine. I reached over to the bedside table to grab the glass that was full -- nearly to the brim -- of my poison. Drinking the wine in a few quick gulps, I attempted to convince myself nothing had happened. There weren't any gunshots, I thought, closing my eyes. I am imagining this and I will wake up in the morning and all will be well.
But reality was setting in at an alarming rate. This was real. Something was ill at ease in the normally relaxing air. The smell of salt and water wafted through the window and it struck me.
Although living on the seacoast in England has its advantages, pirates was the biggest threat to the coastal communities.
My head hit the pillow with a rather loud thump and I, frankly, didn't care anymore. I grabbed the second bottle on the bedside table and began to drown my worries in the wine. It worked.
Barely able to sense the world around me, I could hear very faint footsteps. They approached the door to the bedroom and a pale hand opened the door.
And then that miracle happened. Life was created, and my only child was conceived a bastard. Born out of wedlock. If I ever attempt to reach out to my family, I swear they would kill both me and the child.
But that doesn't matter. I was dragged aboard a fucking pirate ship and I still haven't seen land. My whole life was cruelly ripped out of my hands in a matter of minutes.
Thank you, world.
{ Kendra }
Black hair flitted in the calm breeze, the air cooler as the evening transferred into night. But even though the night was peaceful, the tension surrounding the girl was immense. Light sobs could be heard throughout the dimly lit apartment, making it seem as if a scene out of a movie. Looking outside of the open window at the street below her, the young woman wiped the tears off of her face. Another siren could be heard, tearing through the quiet night air. Sitting on the bed, she grasped her knees and drew them closer to her shivering body and continued to wipe the tears away from her eyes. Kendra thought so much clearer when she could see. One of her little quirks, one would say. She continued to brush the tears and hair out of her face. Attempting to calm herself, she took a couple deep breaths, but to no avail.
She glanced over at the mirror that rested against the wall, immaculate against the dirtiness of the walls and the furniture. In it she could see herself perfectly. Her face was red, and the pimples on her face were inflamed due to her sorry state. Tears stained her cheeks and her long, black hair was tangled and hung around her, creating a shield from the outside world. Strands of her hair clung to the tears on her face, giving her an even more pitiful look. A low cut bustier and a mini skirt clothed her, leading to her shivering. The suggestive attire matched the low-class neighborhood.
"God." The single word escaped Kendra's mouth, a whisper on the breeze. "He -- he found out." She whispered to herself, stroking her arms. A hiccup shook her narrow frame, causing more tremors in her already trembling body. "Why was he there?" She scrunched her face, her eyebrows close to her eyes, her lip open, frowning. Tears streamed freely from her eyes. The woman on the bed slowly turned childish, as sobs and wails escaped her mouth. She fell onto her side and reached out for the pillow on her bed. Grabbing it and pulling the harsh fabric against her face, she sobbed into the pillow, twining her fingers into the fabric and held on tight, as if it would leave her. Her cries sounded like hiccups now. wip
Kkthxbai.
{ Magdalene }
Magdalene's gaze fixated on the building in front of her, her eyes sweeping the seemingly skyscraping castle as she searched for an entrance. Her friend Gabriela -- 'Gabby', as everyone one called her -- had told her about a back door of sorts that sounded much easier to enter then the front door. Gabby had also told her that very few people (or none at all) would be near in that area at this point of the day. Magdalene smirked. Gabby's nickname was very telling. The girl gabbed and gabbed -- which was very helpful in Magdalene's case. Luckily for her, Gabby knew a lot about the castle grounds. However, all the knowledge Magdalene had about the castle did not help in relieving her nervousness. Sure, Magdalene had been a rather accomplished thief ever since her father broke his back and was unable to steadily support the family. But none of her heists were ever on a scale this big. So Magdalene had a right to be nervous.
Making her way towards the castle, Magdelene brushed a few strands of hair out of her tanned face, tying her long hair back with a thin strip of leather. Changing her gait into a leisurely jog, Magdalene quickly made her way up the slope. After a five minute jog, she reached the side of the castle wall and skirted around part of the castle until she reached the door of which Gabby had spoken. Crouching down and pulling a set of crudely made lock picks out of her pants pocket -- Magdelene didn't believe in dresses -- she set to work on the door. Her hands shook a little bit as nervous energy pulsed through them.
Stop freaking out, Magdalene. It's just in and out. Routine stuff. It won't be any harder then a bakery or robbing the market. Magdalene silently reprimanded herself, shaking her head and keeping her hands steady. Hearing the lock click, she stuffed the tools into her pocket and stood on her feet. She immediately regretted wearing boots. The shoes were at least a size too big and clunked whenever she walked. It was already surprising she had made it up the hill without breaking her ankle, let alone tripping. Removing the boots and grabbing them with one hand, Magdalene slowly opened the door -- which made a deep creaking sound as it opened, causing Magdalene to wince and stop at random intervals -- till it was halfway open, sliding into the cool, almost dank room and shutting the door with more creaks and a thud. Gabby hadn't told her this door creaked.
Keeping her footsteps almost completely silent, Magdalene entered a hallway and followed and imaginary map inside of her head. Her steps were quick and concise, making her exploration of the dimly-lit hallway fast-going. She brushed her fingers along the stone walls and wooden doors -- it was an old habit of hers -- as she tried to remember the layout of the bottom floor. Mostly storage rooms full of food, she knew that much. Her mouth watered at the thought of rooms full of food. Swallowing the stop the drool that was bound to exit her mouth, Magdalene stopped in front of a door. Her hand reached for the doorknob but stopped just before she rested her hand on the metal knob.
Footsteps. Her hand lurched back as if the doorknob was on fire and her hand would burn if she was even close to it. Slowly backing away, she turned just in time to avoid a wall, but her boots made contact with the stone and gave of a nice, loud thud. Magdalene groaned silently. Not wanting to be caught by the owner of the footsteps, Magdalene whirled around, and all in the same moment a number of bad things happened: her hair came undone & her clumsiness kicked in, causing her to trip over her own feet, which then in turn caused her to run into a wall, and running into a wall made her fall back and land on her but. So much for stealthy. Magdalene cajoled herself. Moving her thick hair out of her face, Magdalene groaned and held her face in her hands. Her face felt like it was on fire, and her nose stung. Running into thick, stone walls wasn't supposed to be on her agenda for this raid.
Darn clumsiness. She thought, scowling through the pain. Her mama had always told her that her clumsiness and disregard for 'looking before she leaped' was going to get her killed someday, and by Jove, it turned out her mom was right. Magdalene attempted to stand, but the pain in her tailbone and her ribs, along with nearly every other bone and muscle in her body, made it next to impossible. So Magdalene sat there, scooting into a doorway. That would at least be out of the way.
But not her boots. Her boots were still in the hallway, one standing up straight, the other leaning against it. She grimaced and leaned to one side, eventually hitting the floor and dragging herself with her hands. Grabbing the boots -- with some difficulty -- Magdalene started to slide back towards the doorway.
{ Ingrid }
Ingrid stood out in a crowd. Not just because of her quirky fashion sense, or her backpack adorned with marker drawings and pins she had collected over the years, but because of the way she carried herself. Ingrid had confidence uncommon in a high-schooler with limited friends and a personality you had to appreciate to be kind to. Most of that never bothered her though. She had markers, anime, and chocolate. She was happy. She walked in the middle of the crowd, parting her peers like Moses parting the Red Sea. If one glanced at her, most would walk out of the way. Her looks aren't what one could call 'terrifying', but they were odd enough to 'turn people off'. She often wore a black miniskirt, with multicolored leggings, always homemade. Her mother had taught her to sew at a young age, as she had said "all you need is a needle and thread, and you can live off one item of clothing for years". And, it was slightly true. Ingrid would use a seam ripper to split leggings and create her own. Uncommon for today's people, but hey, Ingrid liked the uncommon.
In her arms, she carried a notebook, and numerous loose leaf papers adorned with drawings and random words or phrases. On her arms were fade outlines of words and drawings, hopelessly attempted to be scrubbed off the night before. Today, she was wearing her average outfit: a black miniskirt, a pair of leggings: one leg purple, the other pink, and a top with pink and purple horizontal stripes. Odd, yes, but beautiful in her mind.
Ingrid's hair fell down to her shoulders, a deep auburn color, which only added to her looks. Her eyes were a deep green, what one would call forest green, and had an excited quality to them. Ingrid was neither short nor tall, and stood at average height, only 5'6.
She entered the room shortly after, well, nearly everyone. She quickly glanced at the name on the glass, opened the door, and stepped inside. She looked around the room before asking: "This is honors English, right?" She said as she adjusted the straps of her backpack on her shoulders.
{ Anna }
The sea shook the boat back and forth as the sea often did, and Anna held a glass of wine in her hands as Anna often did. Despite the early hours of the morning, alcohol -- more specifically, pinot noir -- was Anna's drink of choice. The girl stood by the rail of the ship, one hand poised on the rail and the other holding her glass. The cold and salty sea wind blew her hair in her face, but she remained looking out into the sea with a glassy look in her eyes. Every once in a while, Anna would bring the glass up to her lips and take a sip of wine.
To some she looked like a sentry. Anna almost never left her post, even though she was there voluntarily. She stood and watched for hours, with no obvious purpose. It was amazing that she was able to stand so long, considering she was a woman of high social standing and, atop of that, she was pregnant. Her swollen stomach revealed she was rather far in, six months maybe. And for the six months of her pregnancy, she had been there, standing at her post: Anna, the wine, and the sea.
And on this day, nothing was different. Anna stood, glass in hand, frown on lips, hair in face, hand on rail. Down to the last detail, she was the same. And she stood.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I never knew something horrible would happen that night. That day had started out so happy.....Joseph and I had only been married for 3 months, and were still 'madly in love'. We had settled down that night with a bottle of pinot noir -- Joseph preferred port himself, but I always convinced him to have what I preferred. I was a little charmer in that way. After laying down with the love of my life, I slowly drifted off to a deep sleep. The bottle seems to have that effect on me; even if I drink it in moderation. I had gone a bit overboard that night and had drunken most of the bottle, something that Joseph had always tried to prevent me from doing. Sadly, he failed in his attempts.
I didn't wake up immediately. The wine hadn't worn off yet and the drunkenness seemed to caress me and make me blind to the events of that dreadful night. But movement in the bed stirred me into a lucid state, lifting my head inches above the pillow to see what had caused Joseph's action.
"Joseph, what...what's going on?" I asked, half-asleep and drowsy.
"Stay in bed, Anna," Joseph said. His tone was stern and I was in no place to argue with him.
As Joseph left the room, I pulled the blanket up, resting the seams under my arms and relaxing my neck. I turned my head sideways and stared at the door rather intently, hoping Joseph would return and say nothing was the matter.
But then I heard a gunshot.
I immediately reached a fully conscious state and sat up, a chill running down my spine. I reached over to the bedside table to grab the glass that was full -- nearly to the brim -- of my poison. Drinking the wine in a few quick gulps, I attempted to convince myself nothing had happened. There weren't any gunshots, I thought, closing my eyes. I am imagining this and I will wake up in the morning and all will be well.
But reality was setting in at an alarming rate. This was real. Something was ill at ease in the normally relaxing air. The smell of salt and water wafted through the window and it struck me.
Although living on the seacoast in England has its advantages, pirates was the biggest threat to the coastal communities.
My head hit the pillow with a rather loud thump and I, frankly, didn't care anymore. I grabbed the second bottle on the bedside table and began to drown my worries in the wine. It worked.
Barely able to sense the world around me, I could hear very faint footsteps. They approached the door to the bedroom and a pale hand opened the door.
And then that miracle happened. Life was created, and my only child was conceived a bastard. Born out of wedlock. If I ever attempt to reach out to my family, I swear they would kill both me and the child.
But that doesn't matter. I was dragged aboard a fucking pirate ship and I still haven't seen land. My whole life was cruelly ripped out of my hands in a matter of minutes.
Thank you, world.
{ Kendra }
Black hair flitted in the calm breeze, the air cooler as the evening transferred into night. But even though the night was peaceful, the tension surrounding the girl was immense. Light sobs could be heard throughout the dimly lit apartment, making it seem as if a scene out of a movie. Looking outside of the open window at the street below her, the young woman wiped the tears off of her face. Another siren could be heard, tearing through the quiet night air. Sitting on the bed, she grasped her knees and drew them closer to her shivering body and continued to wipe the tears away from her eyes. Kendra thought so much clearer when she could see. One of her little quirks, one would say. She continued to brush the tears and hair out of her face. Attempting to calm herself, she took a couple deep breaths, but to no avail.
She glanced over at the mirror that rested against the wall, immaculate against the dirtiness of the walls and the furniture. In it she could see herself perfectly. Her face was red, and the pimples on her face were inflamed due to her sorry state. Tears stained her cheeks and her long, black hair was tangled and hung around her, creating a shield from the outside world. Strands of her hair clung to the tears on her face, giving her an even more pitiful look. A low cut bustier and a mini skirt clothed her, leading to her shivering. The suggestive attire matched the low-class neighborhood.
"God." The single word escaped Kendra's mouth, a whisper on the breeze. "He -- he found out." She whispered to herself, stroking her arms. A hiccup shook her narrow frame, causing more tremors in her already trembling body. "Why was he there?" She scrunched her face, her eyebrows close to her eyes, her lip open, frowning. Tears streamed freely from her eyes. The woman on the bed slowly turned childish, as sobs and wails escaped her mouth. She fell onto her side and reached out for the pillow on her bed. Grabbing it and pulling the harsh fabric against her face, she sobbed into the pillow, twining her fingers into the fabric and held on tight, as if it would leave her. Her cries sounded like hiccups now. wip
Kkthxbai.
