• Patch Notes •                 • New User Guide •                • Guild Information •

    Size Matters

    Vera Walden
    Vera Walden

    Player 
    Lineage : Evil Angel
    Position : None
    Posts : 19
    Cosmic Coins : 0
    Dungeon Tokens : 0
    Experience : 0

    Size Matters  Empty Size Matters

    Post by Vera Walden on 21st April 2019, 6:39 pm

    ---

    859WORDS
    @Cillian duCrosse
    + BG MUSIC
    Cling cling to your escapes from reality Become a loser and roar roar Throw throw out your ideals Dappou Rock by Neru
    It was the birthday of Mrs. Cartigan’s nephew.  He was only shy of twelve, and the morning was gleaming gold in the gardens of perhaps the grandest mansion in the neighborhood.

    While she had much to do for her pride and joy’s special day, she had no motivation to do much of anything except weep for the loss of her precious wedding ring, so it was naturally a matter of concern to the widow that she should find it before nightfall. But what a fine morning it was turning out to be and what a shame for the elderly woman to waste it on so many tears. Exotic flowers stood erect upon their green stalks, like an assemblage of intricately dressed ballerinas, and greeted the labyrinth of roses with their vivid petals and abundant radiance. The sight of her garden alone could coax her out of any dreary spell she was under,  and for the first time in her life not a slight upward curve was to be found upon her lips. There wasn’t even a smile for the sweet perfume her beloved fruits often sent her way.

    Oh, but understandably she thought herself too frail to bend her knobby knees or too old to seek out her ring with less than adequate vision, and when the present was waning from her constant brooding, she pondered and wandered away through the lush greenery and entered the house with a simple but effective plan in mind. The party wouldn’t have to wait at all if she had an extra set of helping hands to assist her in this much needed search. But she had to work quickly if she wanted to get an early head start with the preparations for the party, ignore the curses that came with being old such as, the aching in her bones, the brittleness of her frame, and more. Mrs. Cartigan would indeed have to go to the marketplace for a bit of speedy recruiting. In seconds she left the comfort of her estate. She really was thankful it was just a short walk away from her home, to some decent extent, because five minutes in and her joints felt as if they were being mercilessly seared by the fires of hell.

    “I’ll be jitterbugged if I have to take another step,” she panted, having made it to the marketplace, where customers ran in and out of every store looking for goods, “but I may not have to. Hello, young people, I could use your help. Would you all kindly lend me your eyes and ears? I’ve lost something and I need someone to find it for me.”

    It was long past five minutes when she stumbled upon the realization that no one had actually bothered to even look her way. Others kept avoiding direct eye contact to see if she would stop talking, and this caused her to experience nothing but disdain for the dwellers of Clover Town. Finally she stopped pouting, and a woman came out of the store with a big bag of groceries, a bag so fully stocked it appeared dangerously close to bursting, and the tiny hole that went unseen stretched until it was vomiting fruits and vegetables. The old lady witnessed just how frazzled the stranger was, and reasonably so, for all the edibles she bought only a few seconds ago were rolling away at an alarming speed from the entrance to the sidewalk.

    There was very little time to waste.

    “Quick, Vera! What is your disaster recovery plan?” came the powerful cry of agony, only for it to turn into something pitiful, “The one in my head suggests I run around screaming ‘What do I do? What do I do? But I doubt that’s going to do me any good. T-This better work. Sorry, hey, excuse me!’” the distraught stranger spewed, faster than a bolt of lightning, before coming to the real conclusion; which was to run past countless of people in hopes of  salvaging the food she so foolishly lost, she even went so far to shove everyone aside with her own bare hands, and many were naturally angered by her ruthlessness to say the least. The witnesses moved warily through the tension, and in doing so inspired the masses to partake in the unintentional kicking of her precious fruits.  An exaggerated gasp flew from her lips when her latest purchase, everything she ever had in that bag, were irreversibly disfigured by a passing car.

    She stared at her ruined spoils with such great intensity, Vera nearly convulsed.

    “Good grief. D-did that just seriously happen? Dude, this is making my ass twitch.” She half-whispered, burying her face in her hands.

    “Everything has a reason. Even jelly beans.” Mrs. Cartigan moaned, edging near desperation herself. Perhaps she’d ask a more lucid individual for assistance, and leave the desperate woman for last. Much to her dismay, however, the streets were becoming rather barren, and what she needed the most right now were people.  Preferably, normal people.

    She tried again, yelling with all her might,“I will pay you handsomely for your services, but I do need willing volunteers!”



    ---
    Cillian duCrosse
    Cillian duCrosse

    Player 
    Lineage : Reaper's Touch
    Position : None
    Posts : 22
    Cosmic Coins : 0
    Dungeon Tokens : 0
    Experience : 150

    Character Sheet
    First Magic: Necrothurgy
    Second Magic:
    Third Magic:

    Size Matters  Empty Re: Size Matters

    Post by Cillian duCrosse on 3rd May 2019, 3:18 pm

    Even though my life hasn't been all that great

      884/1500 WORDS
     
    @Vera Walden
     
    THEME SONG
     
    I have seen war, famine; witnessed the genocide. Have seen the changes in human nature and history, and I am still here, standing alone. Til the end, I will be there too. To witness the endless carnage, to live this harsh reality. Cause I have been cursed, Cursed with immortality.


    Cillian was giggling. It wasn’t loud enough to be heard over the bustle of the crowd, more of a quiet, private giggle, but a giggle nonetheless.

    He had been walking through the marketplace when the scene unfolded. First it began with some old woman yelling at the top of her rather aged lungs, requesting help for something. Honestly he hadn’t heard what she needed as he’d ignored her, same as everyone else in the vicinity. He’d been far too preoccupied claiming a five finger discount on an apple when the vendor wasn’t paying enough attention to his fruit stall.

    As Cillian had begun to walk away, taking a deep bite out of the green colored fruit that left a bit of juice dribbling down his chin, that was when the real commotion started. He probably wouldn’t even have noticed the woman at all, even after her bag of groceries split, if it weren’t for the fact that she started shoving people to go after the items as they rolled away. A body got knocked into him, which drew his attention toward the purple haired woman as she talked to herself and frantically tried to reclaim her lost food.

    “Now that’s just unfortunate,” Cillian had murmured quietly to himself with amusement as everything got run over by a lacrimobile, giggling softly. He took another bite from his stolen apple and moved over toward the woman just in time to hear her half whispered comment about her ass twitching. Well curiosity got the better of him so his crimson eyes took a quick glance at her backside to see if it was, in fact, twitching.

    Bending over, he picked up a lone orange that had managed to get through everything unscathed and offered it to the woman. Cillian was tall. Much taller than the young woman, in fact. He stood nearly a full foot taller than her, his lanky form practically looming above her. His entire outfit was maroon red in color, consisting of a pair of pants and a long trench coat that was open in the front. Since he wore no shirt beneath the jacket, there was a V shaped gape exposing his chest nearly all the way down to his pant line. Though he was a bit thin, he had rather prominent muscles on his abs that betrayed an athletic side to him. His hair was a dark silver color, and a bit shaggy. There was also a sizable scar that ran from the left side of his chin down to his collar.

    “I’d say you should go ask for your money back, but that grocery store owner is known for being a penny pincher. Shame, though. I always hate seeing good food go to waste.” With a slight smirk, he pointed toward the elderly Mrs. Cartigan. “Since I haven’t done my good deed for the month yet, I’ll point out that lady there who looks like she needs some help and is willing to pay. Maybe you can get your money back.”

    That was where he fully intended on leaving the interaction. Putting his free hand back in his pocket, Cillian turned to walk away and found himself face to face with the elderly woman in question, who had spotted him pointing at her and rushed over. “Excellent, so happy for a volunteer!” she said.

    The Necrothurg blinked down at her in confusion. “Uhh…” The surprise of the woman appearing before him when he wasn’t expecting her had caught him off guard, stripping him of any eloquence he may have otherwise had. Apparently, the old lady had seen him pointing at her and was all too happy to accept that someone was finally acknowledging her, wandering over to capitalize on the opportunity for assistance.

    Well, really it was that she was trying to get his help rather than the crazy, frazzled looking woman he was talking to, but of course Cillian was unaware of that. The old biddy stood aggressively before him. “I’m so glad to see that there are still nice young men out there willing to help a feeble old lady such as myself,” Mrs. Cartigan told him, reaching up with her wrinkled hands and taking hold of either side of the open face of his coat with a notably not so feeble grip. “And such a handsome man, too! What a dear you are!”

    With a nervous chuckle Cillian carefully pried the lady off of him. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I think you’re mistaken.” He quickly took the purple haired woman by the shoulders and pulled her over, planting her in front of him where she stood conveniently between him and the old woman like a barrier. Indeed, he almost seemed to be trying to huddle behind the much smaller lady. “See, I was actually suggesting that this lovely young woman here consider giving you a hand, as she just tragically lost all her precious groceries. I would absolutely looove to help you myself, but I think she probably needs your jewel much more than I do, and it’s just so hard for me to put my own needs before others, you see…”

     
    I figure that if I live long enough, something good might happen.


    _____________________________________________________________________________________

    Vera Walden
    Vera Walden

    Player 
    Lineage : Evil Angel
    Position : None
    Posts : 19
    Cosmic Coins : 0
    Dungeon Tokens : 0
    Experience : 0

    Size Matters  Empty Re: Size Matters

    Post by Vera Walden on 14th May 2019, 7:21 pm

    ---


    Vera sighed inwardly, with a rear that did not twitch and a smile that was warmer than her remark. “Well, that didn’t freakin’ go as planned.”

    She suddenly stood with the fragrant orange in the palm of her hand and blinked, oblivious to the admiring, invasive looks of passing onlookers. She wasn’t the focus of all their attention; rather, and, not surprisingly, it was the fellow advising her that drew their intangible appetite to the exposed muscles on his abs. She was a toad among swans, with a navy sweater that was one size too big drooped over her khaki shorts. She looked like a mop with feelings.

    And it spoke once more. “Yikes. Good deeds are real? I thought it might have been one of those made-up things, that parents tell their kids to do, like say please and thank you.”

    The fruit he had only salvaged for her seconds ago might have been small, but it made all the difference. She preferred having something over nothing, and she supposed that was more than enough. In fact, she was thankful he did anything at all, a mildly refreshing contrast to people worrying about their own menial tasks. On that note, she wouldn’t keep him from whatever business he had before coming across such a petty catastrophe and nodded her head very briefly to show her gratitude.

    “Cool! I’ll totally keep that possibility in mind. Nice talking to you. It was like having friends. I’m in your corner . . .” came her strangely pleasant goodbye, as she tucked the fruit in the pockets of her sweater. She was considering approaching the poor lady, offering her help and pity when no one else would, except a distracting thought had occurred to her mind and beckoned her like a fuzzy bee to a sweet flower.  

    She was only a few steps in before realizing that a personal limit had finally been reached. Vera was uncharacteristically lazy all of a sudden, and thought it better to leave well enough alone. It was only at this point, when doing nothing, that she would listen in on the praise of another. The poor handsome fellow was being mercilessly assaulted by the lady's flattery and admiration. The amused louse bit back a laugh, confident that they would part ways and never meet again.

    She wished him well.

    Vera was suddenly on the move. But his hands were much faster, too swift for her to dodge, for they found her slender shoulders and pulled her smoothly off the path. She swayed dumbly in the middle of all this, bright eyes nearly rolling out from their sockets. She was nearly motionless like a puppet on a string, aware that she was being moved elsewhere, stupidly stunned but not particularly surprised with the outcome.

    Misery absolutely loved company.

    When she came to a gentle stop, the mark of confusion couldn’t have been any clearer in her comical gaze. Vera blinked at the woman before her in slow bewilderment. The author looked down at herself and noticed her shoulders were being latched onto, keeping her there in place, almost as if she served as a sort of shield. His excuse was very gallant in the eyes and ears of the elderly member of the gentle sex, but that perception went over the head of the much younger woman as she gingerly pried his fingers off one by one.

    “You offer me as tribute,” she whispered shrilly, “and you don't exactly know what she's looking for? I’m telling you right now that this thing she’s missing could be anything.”

    The old biddy raised an eyebrow at Vera. Mrs. Cartigan was continuously present for this and perfectly capable of hearing her complete and utter nonsense.

    The purple-haired ditz wouldn’t stop there, not quite in touch with reality yet. “Hey, you, this is kind of embarrassing but I might’ve, you know, totally lost my instrument of death. Would you lend me a hand, or better yet, uh,” she tilted her head back, eyes boring into his crimson ones, dangerously, and completed her rant with the utmost seriousness, “your soul? Does that sound super fun to you? ‘Cause I kind of want to keep mine.”

    Then an insignificant chuckle seemed to bloom into one of great laughter, something Mrs. Cartigan hadn’t done in a while. “Now,” she breathed, “that’s just silly. I only ask that my ring be brought back to me safe and sound. I,” she thought out her next words carefully, “may have lost it recently, in the garden. It is excessive, not unlike finding a needle in a haystack. This is why I need you two to roll up your sleeves and get started. It'll certainly be most tedious. But I will pay you both equally, and there will be plenty of delicious cookies to be had. I must insist that you try them! They are to die for.”

    In a flash, she appeared behind the strapping young lad and guided him (more like tried) in the opposite direction, moving him just as he had done to the sacrificial airhead. The bookworm couldn’t believe she was being pulled into this mess, and how dearly she wanted to go home and curl up with a good blunt. The homebody wouldn't come home to uncle because when she considered, even remotely, bailing on such kindly strangers - Mrs. Cartigan dragged her by the neck of her sweater and dragged her along for the trip.



    ---

      Current date/time is 22nd May 2019, 6:43 pm