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    The Nightmare Incarnate: The Beginning

    Vera Walden
    Vera Walden

    Player 
    Lineage : Evil Angel
    Position : None
    Posts : 168
    Guild : The Rune Knights
    Cosmic Coins : 10
    Dungeon Tokens : 0
    Experience : 6,237

    Character Sheet
    First Magic:
    Second Magic:
    Third Magic:

    The Nightmare Incarnate: The Beginning Empty The Nightmare Incarnate: The Beginning

    Post by Vera Walden 7th August 2019, 10:11 am

    IF YOU HAVE NO VOICE,

    769  WORDS
    @TAGGED
    + BG MUSIC
    If you have no legs, run. If you have no hope, invent. - Alegria

    Location: Neutral Grounds

    To have been so meddlesome since a child was the commencement and the passing of Vera Jayne's personality; officiousness of character and situation. She had been exceptionally vivacious, inquisitive in her adolescence; and, at thirty, was just an insignificant umbra of her past self. More numerous ladies could conceive and romanticize more of their surprise present than she did, principally under the condition that she hardly socialized with enough people to promote such philanthropic gift-giving. She went so far as to examine the absurd existence of the package as plausible reasoning to speculate something was off; and the sender, who brought about the novel package with her as the unpropitious receiver, couldn't have been from her circle of flimsy associations. Vera was a markedly solitary piece of work.

    She was a singular combination of a careful, rash, neurotic snoop, and relatively proficient of keeping a level head, most discreet in her conduct as she took to carrying the box in her arms, mindful of how she handled the object of her misgivings, with steps that were more reserved than the leisurely stride of a famished alley cat. The purple-haired savage had enough flexibility to pry the door shut and turn the lock with her toes, and looked about as crooked as a hooded mage in a less than classy bar.  Vera went up the stairs, with her sights on the door of her room before stepping right into her little zen zone and closing it quietly behind her. With her foot. Again. What a lowly woman she was, to not utilize the hands she’d been blessed, only to show preference to a minor laze.

    First, the outwardly guache writer, decided to sit cross-legged on her modestly-sized bed,  to engage in a minute of uncalled-for staring and puzzling. Secondly, she eventually condemned whatever suspicion she had of the thing and tore it open with her flower-like  hands (mildly calloused from past performances, no doubt).  Thirdly, that usual face of skepticism turned into an unforeseen look of dubiety. This could have turned out a lot more differently for her if she hadn’t caught sight of the blood. She could have been utterly ecstatic about receiving a free book and a free lacrima recorder, and just not have more questions. But ten minutes in and she was slapping her hands over her mouth, muffling all the screaming she’d been doing both mentally and physically. She was the perfect example of an exorcism as she rolled around the bed, clawing at her blanket, sheets and wrapping both items  around herself until she looked about as snug as a burrito. “This is just a dream, this isn’t real! This is just a dream, this isn’t real!” yelled Vera into the suffocating warmth, when she had lost her supposed level-headedness.

    Neither the adrenaline pumping through her entire body, nor the wordy mantra of comfort she made for herself, had any effect in shaking her justifiable disfavor to reapproach the crimson-caked message from hell. The only real push she had to this was that her den of alleviation was becoming unbearably hot, and that the longer she confined herself to it, the less soothing it was going to be. Vera threw everything off of her, unwillingly functional again, and reached for her confirmed fear. The longer she thought about it, the more it dawned on her that everything about this could rub her landlord the wrong way. She would most likely sick the authorities on her and that would stick her between a really bad place and a life sentence in prison. There were perks, she supposed, she wouldn’t have to deal with people. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if -

    “We really don’t have much of a choice, do we?” whispered Vera softly, giving the empty space beside her a wary side glance. An excruciatingly pregnant pause for anyone who was watching, followed by an exaggerated shrug from her. “Well, if I don’t get to the bottom of this, then how else do you expect me to clear my name?”

    The only sound in the room that could be heard was the deepest sigh, all coming from Vera.

    “Of course I can’t just go in all willy-nilly.” Said the girl, brimming with practicality. “It’s not like I’m crazy or anything.” The dead air next to her seemed keen on withholding further commentaries, and left her oblivious to the meaning behind the prolonged silence. How snippy her (imaginary) friend seemed today. No matter, she had to do her research before embarking on yet another terrible adventure that involved getting out of the house.
    SCREAM.


    https://www.fairytail-rp.com/t3933-nightmare-incarnate-the-beginning


    Last edited by Vera Walden on 20th August 2019, 6:00 pm; edited 1 time in total


    _____________________________________________________________________________________

    The Nightmare Incarnate: The Beginning Puglyfe6
    Vera Walden
    Vera Walden

    Player 
    Lineage : Evil Angel
    Position : None
    Posts : 168
    Guild : The Rune Knights
    Cosmic Coins : 10
    Dungeon Tokens : 0
    Experience : 6,237

    Character Sheet
    First Magic:
    Second Magic:
    Third Magic:

    The Nightmare Incarnate: The Beginning Empty Re: The Nightmare Incarnate: The Beginning

    Post by Vera Walden 13th August 2019, 7:51 am

    IF YOU HAVE NO VOICE,

    816/1585 WORDS
    @TAGGED
    + BG MUSIC
    If you have no legs, run. If you have no hope, invent. - Alegria

    Samuel Martin had written so many entries, and had started out so gaily, that it was certainly hitting a chord with her when his tale took a twisted turn for the worst,  even as Vera packed the most minimal of supplies to prepare for the long road ahead.  The little nomad crossed her arms, and looked out the window with an unusually heavy exhale of the breath. The distance would be great despite being a proud owner of a motorcycle, made by the hands of non-magic users and crafted by the affection of artists. She would pack an obscene amount of wet wipes and some essentials for the trip she cringed from.

    “I don’t know where I’m going,” she mumbled, as she looked attentively at the nothing, “but I’m going. Are you coming with me to the inconspicuously named Spooky Forest? Going once, going twice!”

    That was an instant no, she gathered.

    She grabbed her little backpack, with her fingers tightening around the doorknob. “ Oh, peas no, you say? Why are you bean like this? You must really not carrot about me at all. It probably is for the best if I just go on this crazy expedition alone. We can’t both be sent back home in a body bag. ” Vera morbidly explained, leaving her cozy sanctuary for a more familiar way of life. She was a seasoned traveler in spite of demeanor.

    The hotness of the sun bearing down on her had been torturously draconian for days, and it was here and now a brisk and inky night. The old silvery moon was abounding and generous in the queerly starless cobalt sky, and the plant life as well as the ancient gnarled roots of the trees  appeared beastly;  much more so in the enigmatic light. The objective of stepping into the grubby jaws of the forest any sooner than she would have liked to repulsed her. The chance of perhaps having her heart gorged out by the ghost of the ill-fated Mary Martin, or the chance of simply going in and coming out a mangled gourmet meal for the carnivorous inhabitants of the thicket, had the aspects of, in the fried, almost always baked, deepest dark recesses of her mind, similarly ending in her demise.

    She willed herself to park on the outskirts of the forest by the most savage plantlife she could find and took advantage of such lushness to conceal her motorcycle. There, between the flourish of topiaries, she stood dumbly, dressed in a black top and cargo pants with pockets galore, her face creased in grave consideration on the darkness before her, the streak of illumination from her flashlight pointing to the cancer-infested bark, as a small harmless animal clung to it with all the likeness of a statue. The closer she was to the lizard, the clearer it was for her to determine its passing. “Rest in peace, little guy.” Vera whispered, undeterred by its death as she sympathetically pried it off the wood and buried it in the soil where a dead flower conveniently rested beside it. She gently pushed it on top of the burial site and awkwardly clasped her hands together with the flashlight wedged between them.

    Vera was over and above stunned by the revelation with which this run-of-the-mill lacrima voice recorder purred its initiation from her backpack without assisted activation, in the witching hour at night and in that eerie quietude, to reveal the documentation of yet another victim. The rune knight in the recording spoke first. Walden looked anxiously over her shoulder; shook off her backpack like it was a poisonous spider of some sort; cackled the words, ”Oh, you must love the predictability of this. Do you suppose I’m just going to call out the inevitable ‘hello?’ and seal my doom? In your dreams, haunted entity.” and looked hard at it, giving the thing an experimental poke with the tip of her sneaker shoe.

    The woman squeaked and flinched unnecessarily.

    She might not have said much after that cowardly display, as she remained seated. What she did do, was to try and use this time by sifting through its contents to free the cursed recorder. Vera seemed about to question it some more; but while she was listening to the articulation of Lieutenant Jacob Lars, her ankle came in contact with something cold and formless. The seized limb was pulled upward by an invisible force, causing much of her upper body to fall flat on its back.

    She held both items protectively, and she looked apprehensively at the apparition with no real detectable shape. Vera opened her mouth, and then closed it again when she realized there really wasn’t a need for witty banter when she was so close to death. In such times, silence was golden, especially if one flipped the bird as she had done before being mercilessly dragged through the undergrowth.
    SCREAM.


    https://www.fairytail-rp.com/t3933-nightmare-incarnate-the-beginning


    Last edited by Vera Walden on 20th August 2019, 6:02 pm; edited 2 times in total


    _____________________________________________________________________________________

    The Nightmare Incarnate: The Beginning Puglyfe6
    Vera Walden
    Vera Walden

    Player 
    Lineage : Evil Angel
    Position : None
    Posts : 168
    Guild : The Rune Knights
    Cosmic Coins : 10
    Dungeon Tokens : 0
    Experience : 6,237

    Character Sheet
    First Magic:
    Second Magic:
    Third Magic:

    The Nightmare Incarnate: The Beginning Empty Re: The Nightmare Incarnate: The Beginning

    Post by Vera Walden 20th August 2019, 5:56 pm

    IF YOU HAVE NO VOICE,

    265/1850 WORDS
    @TAGGED
    + BG MUSIC
    If you have no legs, run. If you have no hope, invent. - Alegria

    It cleaved to her ankle in its potent and ghoulish grip, it hauled Vera in the direction of that egregious devilry where the levigated earth whizzed through her heliotrope hair and thundered in her ears as it bore its lading of tiny sharp objects into her flesh.  Vera lifted her neck away from that mysterious wraithlike manifestation and began to shriek into the unnatural fog, to twist vacuously into the dirt which immersed her. “They say that every now and then," the voice of Jacob Lars booming louder than it naturally should have, "they see someone’s silhouette in the distance, just beyond the fog.”

    Vera’s entire body socked against the bark of the tree and the unsympathetic poltergeist, who had repeated its assault on her because it could, made her out to be a pitiful lump of self-imposed limitations and weaknesses, a victim. The malicious spirit continued to slam the girl against every tree it could and sometimes it stopped to check if she was breathing, but she refused to die; the poltergeist eventually grew bored of the beating and strung her along. She did not know where she eventually ended up; maybe Vera reached the heavens and stayed there forever, a great mistake. All she knew was that she must have looked as hideous as she felt, especially after coughing up a little blood.

    The wad of crimson landed on not just her hand, but also on the uniform of a dead Rune Knight soldier she was resting upon, and if she looked beyond such a point; she would have noticed more dead bodies.
    SCREAM.


    _____________________________________________________________________________________

    The Nightmare Incarnate: The Beginning Puglyfe6

      Current date/time is 28th September 2021, 3:10 pm