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Post by » m.onday ! on Jun 1, 2009 16:59:02 GMT -5
Strength is the ability to be firm; physically, emotionally, mentally, intellectually, and spiritually. It's the ability to take the harshest critique and be able to hold back the wall when you're on the verge of a breakdown. To be able to fight back, hold your head high, and not let the poisonous traits get through to you, especially when your guard is down. Am I strong? I believe so. I've had my heart and my head broken, every bone in my body shattered, but yet I managed to prosper. I built my own world, and climbed to the top. There is a difference between emotional strength and physical strength. Emotional strength is being able to flourish, no matter how fucked up or wired you are. Physical strength is being able to fight and conquer your antagonist with pride, and dig their hollow grave. I've battled both and won. Does that truly make me strong?
Her delicate pillars burned. From the bottom of her hooves, to the pasterns, to the coronets, to the ergots, to the fetlocks, to the cannon bone, up to the knee, the forearms, then the elbows. Every muscle in each leg secretly whined in exhaustion, working together with the pacing heart, increasing with each pulsation of the fist-sized muscle. Blood charged through the veins, pumping through thousands of overworked veins and arteries. Hoof beats upsurged; pounding the terrain before meeting with atmos again. The fae's ashen bodice shined thoroughly, slicked with a decent amount of perspiration, with the exception of her whipcords. Rust colored tendrils tinted with gold whipped through the wind, dancing and twirling together like flexible gymnasts. Nares flared, deep intakes of oxygen were inhaled, replaced by exhales of carbon dioxide. Beryl hues searched frantically at her surroundings, looking for prey to hopefully pursue; to taunt, tease, and manipulate. It was all a game for the vixen, a sick, twisted scheme that results with the victim standing on the unstable line that separates life and death.
There is only one reason I'm strong. One mere body of existence keeps me sane. Her name is Sunday. She's the articulation in my mind; the voice that tears at me with acid words. She's real, I'm dead serious. They all say I'm paranoid, that I'm fucking crazy and I need help. I know she's there, and that one day she'll prove her subsistence. She's a curse; and I want her out of my dial, but if she leaves, I'll crack. I despise her, yet she's the only one I love. She's scared me in to adoring her, it's the only option I have. She's so fucking dense.
Faster bitch, faster! Sunday screamed, crippling the femme in to a vicious headache. Cranium lowered to the foliage, hind legs met with the atmos in protest to the voice's demands. Her mere response was pain; head splitting, torturing pain. Fire burned inside the back of the brain, similar to a spreading wild fire. Muzzle lifted to the air, an ear popping shriek ripped from her throat, almost enough to break the sound barrier. Heart pulsing, the slim bodice dodged, bended, and swerved around towering trees, sheer inches away from the breaking bark. Stalking nothing but mere air, the fae broke through the dense forest and in to a large opening. Without warning, rain drops fell from the thick, slate-colored clouds that clung to the air. The shower of water fell over her frame, soaking through the sweat and her pearl coat, right through to the bare skin. An icy shiver crawled up her spine, sinking it's way in to her muscling like a burning knife. Power forced to a halt, all force pushed on to the hind legs, bunched in attempt to stop. Haunches rounded and chest protruded, the fae quickly regained posture. The dame dipped her head in one swift movement, emitting a loud snort that vibrated every inch of her body. Inclining her cranium, the girl stretched a pillar to punch at the ground. Grass and soil was uplifted, disturbed by the unnecessary action. Azure orbs observed the opening, searching for meat to close her jaws around, sink her dentals in to, and taste the warm, crimson liquid that satisfies her hunger. Crown lifted to the sky, the dame observed the glistening guiders, illuminating the celestial sphere and bragging about their existence. With a chilling cackle, the fae presented her seething animosity for the world and every moving thing on it. Nape outstretched and dial held at a fierce angle, the 15.2hh mare awaited a being to step out before her.
; 814 PUPPET; Monday Morning OPEN TO; Everyone MUSE; Not that good NOTES; Love to anyone who replies! ;o [/blockquote][/size] |
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Post by ``messiah on Jun 1, 2009 17:42:46 GMT -5
Mammoth-sized pedestals belabored the cartography in ways it hadn't been before, finding new soil beneath the feculent mess that was Apenbaring. The eternally choleric monster had been exposed to the heinous cavity of a meeting place, but alas, who would ever dare to meet such a brutal fiend? Feathered coronets seemed to dance along the bereft delineation with no effort to speak of, but inside his cogs were churning at unmatchable speeds to keep up with the beastly demon soul they had chained inside a mere corpse. He was living, and yet he was dead. Alas, Wish Prison was quite disentranced with the esprit he held; Life had proved to be quite an expenditure, and he had no use for it anymore. The cavity within his barrel had ceased flow of claret, and yet the aching had yet to dissipate. Breathing was heavied; large gasps had molested his airbags, but he had no use for the trivial phase of recycling oxygen. Wish could quite live without the useful task, and yet out of habit he continued.
A snort rose from his seared lungs, mimicking his mood. Exoskeleton convulsed insuppressibly, viscera exerting their weight freely upon the interior of his flesh, as if begging to be freed. Chromosomes were percolating from a fathomless delve upon his stern visage now, no doubt blemishing the terra firma with his DNA, a clear route for would-be predators. A cackle escalated from Wish's labrales at this thought. Oh dear, would they be surprised with what they were getting into. Hypodermic needles were unsheathed suddenly as a crackle reached his beaten orioles. A snarl ripped from his depths, lampoons lit and haywire, tapestry hunched forward like a wolf in battle stance, labrums delved backwards and up like a demented grin, though of course, who would be grinning at the sight? His incisories were fully sheathed now, weapons in of themselves. Then again, their startlingly rotten appearance would tell otherwise. But alas, under the years of servitude, the cusps were as good as new. Masters in a game called Death. He continued in this stature for a diminutive period of time, skulking low to the topography, the dirt particles clinging helplessly to his banner. The nightshade locks hung freely as they pleased, entwined was the furrow of plenary wan. Had it been a sign of age, it would have increased in size and engulfed his bodice. And yet, the streak had been there since birth.
His thick chaplet tossed as the lamentations in the adjacent timberlands increased, retinas wild, chromosomes churning within his flesh. Goosebumps were whisking hastily over his serpentine, making the beast uncomfortable. A snarl ripped from his well-muscled gullet, echoing in the startlingly ardent zephyr. Beads of sweat lurched from his pores in his attempt to scout out the intruder, but the efforts were lost to a manic case of deliria. A cackle rose from his depths, insane and threatening, like a hyena. The right oculus which serviced his as well as it could quivered slightly, enveloped suddenly but resurfaced almost immediately after. Narettes were bloated, heaving in the hot air with utter dislike of the situation. A stench reached his nasal receptors. It was revoltingly sweet, as if the stench of a virgin temptress. His twisted damask ribbon was thrust from his aperture, tracing the protoplasm along his estuary. A faint taste of claret blossomed upon the taste buds and, to his dislike, mimicked the sapidity of his own lymph. Banner was thrown towards the great celestial as a shake of the brain-pan rumbled the atmosphere, the gods were snoring, and Wish Prison was here to play.
Joints disassembled momentarily, taking but one step towards the heiress, chain-locked gaze downward. The thin film which covered thoughtless visionaries enveloped the rotaries, their transparent lids revealing irises of pure ruby transfused with fool's gold. Hocks took the bloody task of serving as a barrier as his goad set to motion, bringing forth insectile vampires to feast upon his butchered corpse. Lungs collapsed into airless pits as finally articulations crept forth. The vaga's scorched empire trembled softly as he moved, the ghost of a grim smile hiding behind unsullied Labrales. Parched gullet contracted, feeling a stiffening in his heart. Within the salmon walls of a spacious dental-cavern hypodermic needles shuddered, finally letting themselves show to the infantry tribe residing in Aldonia. His chest expanded as another howl was given; calling forth the fiends of darkness who wished defy the offending party. Tendrils licked at the self-inflicted wounds upon his nightshade crest, sending shivers of pain through his nerves. Gammes halted for a split second as he reviewed the surrounding atmosphere. Unimpressed, he pressed on. His breathing was hard and sweat beaded down his side, dripping over the curves like water on oil. Stone-faced and stiff-legged, the puppet master sneered at the passing of the winter months. Ah, so now that light was here all the pretty little ponies came out to play, was that it? A cough rattled his corpse, threatening his decaying ribcage. There were, indeed, pretty ponies - he could almost taste the floral stench of the lighthearted as if they had been previously standing in the exact spot. Wish Prison continued through the undergrowth until he reached the outermost layer of the forest. The sunlight oozed down lazily, a gossamer cloth separating his world from…their’s. Another scent, though less obvious, filtered through his receptors. It was something delicate, something unfamiliar, something…unsettling, that he could not place. His lifeless visionaries fell to the quagmire as he continued, scouting the easiest route. He suspected he would find at least one vulpine before the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. After all, it was still morning. Finally a figure came into view, a mistress, it seemed, and petite. Barking out a hysterical laugh, Wish stepped closer. Ah miss, you are certainly a brave one for coming out in these woods alone. I daresay many get lost here.
Capillaries rustled in the fervid wind, pedestals rooted to the ground as if holding him back. Very well, he could wait as long as it took for the banch to respond. He had all day. Hell, he had all year. He barked out a laugh, startlingly charming in its own thick baritones. But seriously doll, let’s get on with it.
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Post by » m.onday ! on Jun 1, 2009 18:34:58 GMT -5
Carefully carved harks raised on end, intently listening to the faintest sounds that surely did emit from the forest behind her. The fae, Monday, questioned her existence in this location, why she'd picked such an uncertain path to follow. Regret hit her, but not for the reason most souls would believe. Fear had never existed inside of the vixen's matter, it was merely replaced with pure anger, hatred, and belligerent to wards her fellow peers. Intakes slowly decreased in pace, the mind, body, and heart now settled back to it's original giving. Senses were more acute; focused in other words. The dancing frenzy was finished, but tension remained between her and this still unfamiliar place. Apenbaring was never territory to her; it didn't feel like she belonged in such a depressing place. The manner was fierce here, rough and angry to a point where it was suffocating. Monday embarked, one solid weight after another, paces lengthening slowly, but gradually. Physically, she was out of place on this terrible land, but mentally, this was her calling. With her toxic mind and reflexes, she was stuck here; chained down from the ground up. Her dainty figure was no less than deceiving, but muscle entwined around the raw bone. No cuts or welt were visible on her alabaster coat, no raw skin ever open for the world to infect and spread their disgusting, unworthy diseases upon. With gusts no longer in place, the now still tendrils of hers lay plastered against her muscled nape, drenched with perspiration and the unwilling drops that fell from the billows high above her curved corpse.
Another ripping snarl pierced the dense silence of the land, one that was not of recognition. Auditives now pinned back against the poll, centered in the middle where no space could come between them. Nasals flared out wards, the fae's oculars searched wildly; frantically trying to find the eyes that now fell upon her. Heaving, the femme could feel the burning that was directed to wards her, the huge label that spelt victim laying across her barrel. Sunday was disturbed, screaming, yelling, ordering for her to run. The growl was deep; masculine. Protruding her sinewy chest further, the fae responded without a trace of hesitation. The equinus shrieked, her bold, crackling snarl vibrating through her serpentine and back to her colossal ribcage. The mere tone of her outburst was enough to surprise any being that knew the source of the noise, it being a delicate looking mare.
For all that Monday knew, her predictions were correct. A brawny stag broke through the clearing, sending the doe inside the fae's head insane. She screamed, shattering Monday's concentration. Deep inside her throat, the huntress growled lowly at her partner, enough to shut her up for a few moments in time. Optics trailed back to the stranger. Without as much as a mere expectation, the girl outstretched her serpentine, grinding her dentals together. For what she was, she mustered up to be quite the fierce looking animal. Anger rattled her bodice, banner pinned back against her haunches, muscles preparing themselves with every step the towering gladiator embarked. To the femme's disgust, the brute cackled. A cold, heartless laugh. Monday comprehended the twisted thoughts that racked through his cranium, visualizing the images that wouldn't come true. Well, to her, that was. Ah miss, you are certainly a brave one for coming out in these woods alone. I daresay many get lost here. Abhorrence worked it's way through her body, causing the tensed corpse to shake due to Sunday's reaction to the male species. The girl's maw curved ever so slightly in to a smirk, plastered thickly on her face. Your deceiving words of kindness do not fool me, you beast. I see lies swimming in your filthy tone. Seduce me you will not, so don't try mount me. She sneered, acid dripping from her voice. She smiled brightly, sarcasm written all over her dial. She hot hoofed, turning her rounded haunches away from him. She outstretched her feathered ailerons for the first time that day, that seemed to blend effortlessly against her pearl coat. Monday cocked her head, her harks remaining pinned against her crown. My name is Monday Morning, so don't call me 'Miss'. I can't be bothered with your seducing bullshit. Hear me? The doll snarled, her words thick with animosity. Once again, she repeated the action of pawing the ground, This time harder, the sharpened curve pushing up the dirt and replacing itself with air, oxygen, and carbon dioxide.
[/color] WORD COUNT; 828 PUPPET; Monday Morning OPEN TO; Everyone MUSE; Not that good NOTES; Love to anyone who replies! ;o [/blockquote][/size] |
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Post by ``messiah on Jun 1, 2009 19:00:45 GMT -5
Ribcage convulsed with laughter as the vagabond inhaled her response through folded audits. How daft, how childish. Wish Prison stepped forward slightly, ignoring her attempt to ward him off with a cold shoulder. She had no idea how fucking arctic he could be. Mug retreated, pulling itself to hook behind pearly hypodermic needles. Another rumble lay dormant but ready within his chest as she spoke yet again. He straightened up, nape vertical as he stared down at the hag. Don’t flatter yourself, Monday Morning. It is not your damned brats I want. Smug vocals oozed disgust. Ebon-charged flints pawed at the feculence, sending quagmire flying. Two could play that game. Leathers extended, beating through the atmosphere as they stretched. The bat-like hooks at the ends extended as well, grappling at the frondescence. Lady Lunar peeked through the leaves, allowing herself to wink in and out behind the clouds as the celestial became pregnant with night.
He commenced his pacing once again, surveying the mare’s muscle-clad bodice with little interest. I assume, by your rash behavior, that you have not yet heard the word of a War in Apenbaring. Browline cocked quizzically, nares producing fog as Wish Prison breathed steadily. Tapestry flexed across his bones, skeleton aching slightly. The Kaiser needed not a mere whore to banter about his feet, he needed a respectful queen. Spiracles engulfed the bitter carbon, noting the frequency of movement upon his taste buds. Periosteum flexed slightly as he sidestepped nearer to Monday, pulling himself tighter to her framage out of sheer boredom. Labrums played with his bittersweet tassels, extracting the crim from every strand. Already growing tired of this preening, he wandered slightly to the elms, the frond crumbling upon his withers as it leant inward to his touch. He knew she would not leave this little meeting, although she obviously willed her lyrics to state otherwise. Now now, I must be fair. You gave me your name, and so I must give you mine. I’m Wish Prison. Plumage whisked over his quarters, forcing them to retreat as they grew tense. Forelock ran the course of his cerebellum, finally dripping off the end of his puss dramatically. The longer he waited, the more impatient he grew. Audios flicked upwards suddenly as the titan picked up cracklings and such from the decaying foliage, labrales firmly pursed. Lampistra narrowed, gloating expression studying the forestry.
Liquid pools of white void danced lazily upward, focused inattentively on the mangled canopy overhead. A vast golden orb peeked through those where the density was lessened. Puss was lowered, lipping at the ragged threads that cursed his well-sculpted chest. Platinum tendrils laced with grit and grime clung helplessly to his hyde, his silky movements coming to an end before the hussy. Eager to begin gathering an army and perhaps a matron or two, Wish was bored with the terra. Transparent lids enveloped his dense sockets as he blinked away a Vampiric insect, its miniscule bodice coming in close contact to the hood. Above, demented avi sung their sorrowful melodies as small mammals listened, pocketed in the folds of the frondescence. Nasal caverns flared slightly in attempt to gather his surroundings. Sweat gathered upon his flesh, although the seasons remained locked in a perpetual winter, his pores opening up to allow heat to flow outward, cooling the hunter immediately.
A snort rose from his seared lungs, mimicking his mood. Exoskeleton convulsed insuppressibly, viscera exerting their weight freely upon the interior of his flesh, as if begging to be freed. Chromosomes were percolating from a fathomless delve upon his stern visage now, no doubt blemishing the terra firma with his DNA, a clear route for would-be predators. A cackle escalated from Wish Prison’s labrales at this thought. Oh dear, would they be surprised with what they were getting into. A snarl ripped from his depths, lampoons lit and haywire, tapestry hunched forward like a wolf in battle stance, labrums delved backwards and up like a demented grin, though of course, who would be grinning at the sight? His incisories were fully sheathed now, weapons in of themselves. Then again, their startlingly rotten appearance would tell otherwise.
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Post by » m.onday ! on Jun 2, 2009 7:30:35 GMT -5
Don’t flatter yourself, Monday Morning. It is not your damned brats I want. The damsel growled, snapping her jaw together and watching with pure abhorrence. Outstretched wings snapped back to her sides, resting peacefully at her flanks. Beryl hues fixated on the gladiator's every move; watching with caution at every stark movement he executed. Deep intakes of oxygen traveled through the alveolus, in an attempt to calm the angered dame. I beg to differ, stag, the girl replied, her voice smoother, but chilling, But if I receive no respect from such a beast like you, I intend to defend myself. Her emphasis held together, more mature than her last outburst. The fae tossed her dished empire, a move so abrupt, it startled the mere tranquility of the situation. Tassels pushed towards the atmos, knotted threads proudly producing their colors with the help of the flooding light that spilled upon the land and her delicate carcass. Plumes followed the movements, swinging solemnly like a pendulum in motion, whipping at themselves and causing an unnecessary dance routine.
Voids eyed the stag expectantly, only to observe his change in tracks, all attention focused on her physique. Obviously offended, Monday pivoted with every movement he made, bodice aways paralleled to his. I assume, by your rash behavior, that you have not yet heard the word of a War in Apenbaring. The snide comment rattled Monday's bone. Did he think she was a hermit? The fae bared her teeth, labrums pushed back to reveal two straight rows of sharpened enamels. Snapping her crown back towards her serpentine, she regained posture and composition. I am well aware of the happenings in Apenbaring at this present moment, what equine roaming this turf hasn't heard about the break out? She pushed, cranium slightly pushed to the side. Suddenly she was the center of a continuous loop, all thoughts of the War vanished from mind. Like circled prey, the fae was pulled tighter in to a circle, which gradually began to get smaller. Monday hissed; remaining in her put position. Hind piston raised, sole of the weight aimed at the stag as paced around her haunches, readying herself to lash out if something where to happen. Monday analyzed his actions were produced from boredom, or the sheer though of taunting her. Don't touch me. She murmured, sincere about her words.
Whipcords gained speed, tickling the mass that that hugged the hips, spine, and croup. Colorless tassels presented their anger with the actions made, curling around her hocks, before releasing themselves back to their limp position. Relief swooned her head as the virile broke his pattern, drifting over towards the timber, extensions brushing the sides of his carcass. Cocking a brow, the crown of the maiden swiveled on the nape, pools trailing over the stag's sudden decision. Now now, I must be fair. You gave me your name, and so I must give you mine. I’m Wish Prison. Monday grunted lowly, attention turned towards the foliage entwining in each other. Noise emitted from the deteriorating mass of land, all tendons hardened due to the situation. Diagnostics pricked, standing on end to listen intently. Instinctively, the fae moved for wards. Stalking the unknown, she advanced towards the perimeter, meters between the stag who was no longer at thought. Aqua optics strained, frantically searching the context for the stalker.
Why are you here, Wish Prison? she inquired, her hues never tearing from her goal. Her voice was hushed, no effort given at all to speak clearly. She emphasized the way she vocalized his name, the same way he'd done to hers. A smirk played on her labrums, daring to reveal itself. Without as much as a warning, Wish composed a defensive stance, dentals bared and body hunched. Monday's beryl oculars rolled dramatically in their sockets at the pathetic sight. Call her a hypocrite, but she could create more a scene than that. Feathered expansions revealed themselves, held high and outstretched above her frame. With a few swift beats of the attachments, Monday allowed a high pitched whinny to rip from her throat, followed by a head toss. Purposely, she finished her drama with an over dramatic sneer at the stag. The girl liked competition.
[/color] WORD COUNT; 778 PUPPET; Monday Morning MUSE; Gah, sucks! NOTES; Love to anyone who replies! ;o [/blockquote][/size] |
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