Message 14 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: M-Jarvis Date: Fri Mar 1, 2002 4:28 pm Subject: Re: [MMN] Welcome to the REAL... Recently, Marcus Kraten wrote: <> > "The JABERWOCK!" he srceams dabbing a paw at the monster. > ... > "and while in uffish thought he stood, the Jabberwock with eyes aflame came > whifling through the tugglywood and burbled as it came..." > << he drops the knife before Alice and curls up into a shuddering ball.>> > "...and burbled as it came..." And THEN: > > > > Doris kneels down and pets the Cat gently.."Oh, you poor thing..." She pulls > out a box of Mexican Jumping Beans from her pocket, offering them to the Cat. "Would you like some tea?" She smiles, petting the Cat's paw..."We're off for tea. Do come..." They go into the darkness of the night, led by Stephanie the Fearless. Doris picks up the Cat and carries it in her arms, walking away form the Monstrous River and its demon spawn.."We have a ways to go before we sleep, you know...." They walk along, through a Park full of Works and along the Grand Avenue.... To see....another FIEND FROM THE PITS OF HELL!! "Yipes!" Doris drops the Cat, staring at another Dragon, this one Silver...and on the ground.. She looks for Stephanie, but Steph is gone, sneaking around to the back of the Monster! "Oh, my!" D takes a prayer book from her pocket and the phial of pixie dust, advancing toward the Beast.... Giant flames roil out of the Monster, screams of all the people it has eaten coming from deep inside. "Gee Whiz!" D runs into the monsters Mouth: pick up baby, turn around, grab Grandma, swim in bean sprouts, wade through celery, jump over and under... find more...there is Red.. and the Wolf, shove them , pull them, get them out, Stephanie yelling from deep within the Belly of the Beast... Pigs trot out furiously from the depths.. How many are there? this Monster is huge, Huge HUGE!!!!.... pull out some more, see Stephanie save the the Brave Little Taylor and Mollie Whuppie, Run out! Everybody run out! scoot the people away from the building.... and Sirens call. {The Firemen} "Shhhhhhh" Doris giggles. Stephanie grins. Exeunt the Tea Party, running on tippy toes, into the Darkness, Stage Right ****from Doris P. Malkie Whip Vancouver-land Rook of the Court of Cracked Mirrors. Some Status Many Books Tons of flowers... **** Megaera Jarvis 2000-09-198 > > > > > [Non-text portions of this message have been removed] Message 15 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "Abu Nahasapeemapetalion" Date: Fri Mar 1, 2002 4:35 pm Subject: Re: [MMNsub] (unknown) >the least he could have done was left our eyes open... >it is not like we aren't crazy enough... this sucks... Remember Remember OOC: this is not a death post.... i repeat NOT a death post :) Bil Terry US2002023267 CC of Crossroads of Deception Message 16 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: Natasha Dumniankova Date: Fri Mar 1, 2002 11:05 pm Subject: Re: [MMNsub] (unknown) OOC Note Please disregard this post it could not have been made I appologize I did not know about a rule.. Please ignore this post and any responses Gwen Richeson 2000-04-262 US2002022233 --- Natasha Dumniankova wrote: > *the darkness is opressive... you can not see > anything, you can't move... you can hear though.. > you > can hear someone walking... though it won't talk... > you want to yell but you can't talk to him* > > the least he could have done was left our eyes > open... > it is not like we aren't crazy enough... this > sucks... > > ooc you would recognize Natasha's Voice if you know > her > > ooc > gwen richeson > 2000-04-262 > us2002022233 Message 17 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: Barbara Mertz Date: Sat Mar 2, 2002 7:30 am Subject: Tear Down the Wall (not a death post!) ::Far away in the distance, the sound of a rushing train. A beatnik in a business suit walks aimlessly, fingering the rabbit's foot hanging from her left wrist. "We have to shout above the din of our Rice Crispies We can't hear anything at all" Her hands begin gesturing, simply at first and then more rapidly and with greater emphasis. You get the idea of what she's saying, something about having a brain sucked out through the nostrils, about family and clan, about someone being a puppet. Brief flash of a scene from ID4, where the doctor has become an obscene flesh puppet for the alien. Aliens. Slimy, tentacled. She should be so clean, you must keep her clean. "Many miles away something crawls from the slime at the Bottom of a dark Scottish lake" The train's sound becomes loud, as though it had been growing steadily and you too preoccupied to hear it. You look down; you are standing on the tracks. The hand gestures have become broader, encompassing the entire upper body. "Contestants in a suicidal race" You're negotiating with someone in Sign language, good thing because you can't hear him over the train. It whistles faintly, as though there is a calliope stored in one of its cars. The headlight rounds the corner. You're standing on the tracks. You don't move, you can't, the negotiations are too important. "He knows that something somewhere has to break He sees the family home now looming in the headlights The pain upstairs that makes his eyeballs ache" The headlight is warm like the sunlight through a window, like if you stood in it for a few more seconds it would turn you to ash. Yet you don't move, even though you realize the fellow you're negotiating with is not on the tracks. "Many miles away there's a shadow on the door of a cottage on the Shore of a dark Scottish lake" It hits you. You're substantial enough to feel the hit, feel the cowcatcher slam against your hip, the heat of the headlight sear through your side, the wall of the engine jar the brains inside your head. Grief. Yet you're insubstantial enough to pass through it, to make impact with the next car, one containing a mongoose. It hits your body all at once. Protectiveness. Your body slips through again, slamming against a sharp object--a door handle? Guilt. A car containing a coffee bar passes through you, hot water scorching you, soft ground coffee beans soothing the wound. Sensuousness. The Indian rugs' yarn scratches as it passes through, being more rather than less painful on impact. Anger. A car full of living macaws, clawing, preening, pecking. Paranoia. More cars come through, each the slam of a wall followed by the sense of what's in it. Grief. Fear. Anger. Love. Joy. Humor. Paranoia. Frustration. Helplessness. Guilt. Anger. Grief. Sensuousness. Anger. Grief. Guilt. Relief. Pain. Anger. Grief. Guilt. Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam. The calliope car passes through in slow motion. It sounds like a child's music box, with a child's voice, singing a lullaby: "Think of me every day/Hold tight to what I say/And I'll be close to you/Even from faraway.../Know that wherever you are/It is never too far/If you think of me I'll be with you" Slam. Slam. Slam. slam--or just the remembered sensation of it. You don't see the train anymore, but you still feel the rhythm of the concussive collisions, again and again. It ends only with sleep, hours later, the sleep of the dead.:: -- sing lyrics--the Police, "Synchronicity II" and "Think of Me" from the Veggie Tales Barbara Mertz 2000-01-106 or US2002021791 House of the Silver Crescent, CA-016 ----------------and Clarice to Anthony's Hannibal OOC: Cheri Eva Quinn-Maroon, Malkavian *Acknowledged**Trustworthy**Feared**Well-Connected* Dancing Mary, Brujah *Acknowledged**Beloved**Revered* Jani Ziff, Nosferatu *Acknowledged**Respected* Message 18 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: Lenore A Watkins Date: Sat Mar 2, 2002 1:32 pm Subject: Re: [MMNsub] Tear Down the Wall (not a death post!) *You hear a knock at the door and go to answer it. A rush of colors enter your mind, like Black and White Dorothy entering ToonTown. You begin to hear things and translate for others all the glory of the colors. "He looks like Judge Doom." "No longer Primogen." ...and then you blink.... "No longer Primogen?!" you hear other news. More distressful news. You see a large golden cross suddenly go up in flames. "Dead. Prince told me." I WILL BE FINE. You must remember, you will be fine. The sound of a crack of the whip sounds and you see a large pink whip land at your feet. "Take it. Try it for a month. See if you like it." Wow! A present! Just for you! You take the whip, give it a good crack. Whee! This'll be /fun/. Colors continue to pass. You talk to people, speak to them, asking questions you would not usually ask and receiving answers just as cryptic as the questions. But it doesn't matter, you've never seen so many colors, or people. But this train, this infernal train won't-- A giant white ball wipes away all of the colors, the pinks, the beiges, the reds, the greens, even the black and its background. The white ball seems to be moving closer and closer to you. It is a headlight. A large, white headlight. "Break it! Break it! Break it! Break it!" you hear screaming, but it's nothing to the sound of the train. Suddenly POW the train hits and it rolls over and over and over and over and over..... too dizzy, too painful...blackness envelopes you. .... Edgar Allan Poe, or, a more younger version of him, stands besides you. "Quoth the Raven, nevermore." "Oh Edgar! I had such an awful dream!" "My love, it is no dream. Awake." You do and you can't breathe....oh my gods, you Can't Breathe! You try gasping for air, but you can't get any, none at all and gods what a headache! Such pain! And no air! You're going to die, and no one will.... ah...that's better...no choking...wait...you don'tbreatheinthefirstplace...do you? Suddenly all the colors go back to normal. The black backdrop replaces itself. The pink ball lodges itself properly into the lower right hand corner. The beige ball takes up residence in the top left hand corner. A slightly reddish purple ball takes up residence very close to the pink one, and...why look! A new reddish purple beige pink gold ball is taking up the middle and growing! Stop it! They're mine!* ---OOC--- Jacqi McKinney Malk #US2002023284 Lactose Free Malk in Pink: Lenore Watkins http://www.tagnout.com > Slam. Slam. Slam. slam--or just the remembered sensation of it. > You don't see the train anymore, but you still feel the rhythm of the > concussive collisions, again and again. It ends only with sleep, > hours later, the sleep of the dead.:: > > -- > sing lyrics--the Police, "Synchronicity II" > and "Think of Me" from the Veggie Tales Message 19 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "Josh Humble" Date: Sat Mar 2, 2002 8:26 pm Subject: Re: [MMNsub] Tear Down the Wall (not a death post!) *An image appears of a younger man in a dark blue pinstriped suit. He appears to be struggling against some unseen weight, making gestures as if trying to pull away from something tying him at the waist* Eva? *The word comes out cold but behind it is a small trail of emotion* OOC: Josh Humble 200007045 >From: Barbara Mertz >Reply-To: mmnsub@yahoogroups.com >To: mmnsub@yahoogroups.com >Subject: [MMNsub] Tear Down the Wall (not a death post!) >Date: Sat, 02 Mar 2002 05:30:55 -0800 > >::Far away in the distance, the sound of a rushing train. > >A beatnik in a business suit walks aimlessly, fingering the rabbit's >foot hanging from her left wrist. > >"We have to shout above the din of our Rice Crispies > We can't hear anything at all" > >Her hands begin gesturing, simply at first and then more rapidly and >with greater emphasis. You get the idea of what she's saying, something >about having a brain sucked out through the nostrils, about family and >clan, about someone being a puppet. > >Brief flash of a scene from ID4, where the doctor has become an obscene >flesh puppet for the alien. Aliens. Slimy, tentacled. She should be >so clean, you must keep her clean. > >"Many miles away something crawls from the slime at the > Bottom of a dark Scottish lake" > >The train's sound becomes loud, as though it had been growing steadily >and you too preoccupied to hear it. You look down; you are standing on >the tracks. The hand gestures have become broader, encompassing the >entire upper body. > >"Contestants in a suicidal race" > >You're negotiating with someone in Sign language, good thing because you >can't hear him over the train. It whistles faintly, as though there is >a calliope stored in one of its cars. The headlight rounds the corner. >You're standing on the tracks. You don't move, you can't, the >negotiations are too important. > >"He knows that something somewhere has to break > He sees the family home now looming in the headlights > The pain upstairs that makes his eyeballs ache" > >The headlight is warm like the sunlight through a window, like if you >stood in it for a few more seconds it would turn you to ash. Yet you >don't move, even though you realize the fellow you're negotiating with >is not on the tracks. > >"Many miles away there's a shadow on the door of a cottage on the > Shore of a dark Scottish lake" > >It hits you. > >You're substantial enough to feel the hit, feel the cowcatcher slam >against your hip, the heat of the headlight sear through your side, the >wall of the engine jar the brains inside your head. >Grief. >Yet you're insubstantial enough to pass through it, to make impact with >the next car, one containing a mongoose. It hits your body all at once. > >Protectiveness. >Your body slips through again, slamming against a sharp object--a door >handle? >Guilt. >A car containing a coffee bar passes through you, hot water scorching >you, soft ground coffee beans soothing the wound. >Sensuousness. >The Indian rugs' yarn scratches as it passes through, being more rather >than less painful on impact. >Anger. >A car full of living macaws, clawing, preening, pecking. >Paranoia. >More cars come through, each the slam of a wall followed by the sense of >what's in it. >Grief. Fear. Anger. Love. Joy. Humor. Paranoia. Frustration. >Helplessness. Guilt. Anger. Grief. Sensuousness. Anger. Grief. >Guilt. Relief. Pain. Anger. Grief. Guilt. Slam. Slam. Slam. >Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam. > >The calliope car passes through in slow motion. It sounds like a >child's music box, with a child's voice, singing a lullaby: >"Think of me every day/Hold tight to what I say/And I'll be close to >you/Even from faraway.../Know that wherever you are/It is never too >far/If you think of me I'll be with you" > >Slam. Slam. Slam. slam--or just the remembered sensation of it. You >don't see the train anymore, but you still feel the rhythm of the >concussive collisions, again and again. It ends only with sleep, hours >later, the sleep of the dead.:: > >-- >sing lyrics--the Police, "Synchronicity II" >and "Think of Me" from the Veggie Tales > >Barbara Mertz >2000-01-106 or US2002021791 >House of the Silver Crescent, CA-016 >----------------and Clarice to Anthony's Hannibal > >OOC: >Cheri Eva Quinn-Maroon, Malkavian >*Acknowledged**Trustworthy**Feared**Well-Connected* >Dancing Mary, Brujah >*Acknowledged**Beloved**Revered* >Jani Ziff, Nosferatu >*Acknowledged**Respected* Message 20 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "wentruk" Date: Sun Mar 3, 2002 7:20 pm Subject: Here there be dragons... The acrid odor of burning paper wafts past... ...running...running... !!!FIRE!!! ...looking back...smoke....flames!!! ...a shadow flies from the flames...a...what the??? ...a dragon??? The flames climb higher into the dark sky, as choking billows of black smoke crowd the vision from your view. ---- OOC: Doug Baker 9902-141 Message 21 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "James Orr" Date: Sun Mar 3, 2002 8:49 pm Subject: Re: [MMNsub] Here there be dragons... The colors of the cobweb shift to a yellowed color that reminds you of an old photograph Three men sit together playing solitaire under the moonlight A deep horn sounds and the men all look up. They stand and the horn sounds again. The one in the middle searches the skies and points. "There." They all gaze skyward and a dark shape covers the moon The third one cowers behind the other two. The other two look at each other and shrug and go back to playing solitaire Xander O'Riley Sire of Senaria Dae Rhal Servant of Malkav (ooc:burn a politics for status) +=+=+=+=+=+=+=+ James 2k101093 US2002023162 Delenda est Carthago - Cato Colloquially translated,"That which stands in the way of our greatness must be removed at all costs." Literally, "Carthage Must be Destroyed." ----- Original Message ----- From: wentruk To: mmnsub@yahoogroups.com Sent: Sunday, March 03, 2002 7:20 PM Subject: [MMNsub] Here there be dragons... The acrid odor of burning paper wafts past... ...running...running... !!!FIRE!!! ...looking back...smoke....flames!!! ...a shadow flies from the flames...a...what the??? ...a dragon??? The flames climb higher into the dark sky, as choking billows of black smoke crowd the vision from your view. ---- OOC: Doug Baker 9902-141 Message 22 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: Oubliette Date: Sun Mar 3, 2002 10:05 pm Subject: Sleeping on the way home from Texas... A black cat walks silently through a press of people. Ball gowns from ages past swirl by, their owners too far above you to make out faces or hear their words clearly. The cat dodges gently past swaying waltz couples, tracing its way delicately across the ballroom floor. Slowly, you sense the presence of others - spirits, unreal but somehow more tangible than the 'living' dancers. These spirits drift past, taking an interest in the cat - some following, some simply watching. In the center of the room, the black cat stops, its green eyes looking up at three tall pillars that stretch almost to the ceiling. There is shouting, and the ceiling of the ballroom errupts into flames. Blood spreads out from the three pillars, covering the floor as the dancers continue to whirl and spin, almost unawares. The cat narrows its eyes, but only watches. The silent, unseen spirits gather close around her, not quite touching her, but protecting her from the blood on the floor and the fire on the ceiling. Where they stand, even the tall dancers must part and move aside, unable to tread upon the cat as she sits upon their ballroom floor. Though the room is in chaos, the black feline sits unmolested and graceful, safe in the midst of the protection and kindness of her spiritual companions. As the pillars fall to dust, one of the spirits manifests before the cat. His soft voice murmurs a greeting, and the cat turns to look. His is a male face (ooc: the UK malk known as Psypher, if you know the PC), and he looks down shyly as he moves close and whispers to the cat. "Madam," he says softly with a beautiful smile, "This evening you wear two dresses..." The cat looks once more at those spirits gathered close around her, spread like the wide skirts of the graceful dancers. Her eyes narrow in agreement and gratitude, and she softly begins to purr. The female voice you have come to recognize as Oubliette whispers over the fading tableau, "Thank you, all those whom I had the pleasure to meet this weekend. Thak you for your courage against adversity and a shifting and unkind political backdrop; for your friendship and open arms to me despite the fact that we had never before met; and for your insight and wisdoms on many topics. I enjoyed my time in Texas, and was doubly blessed to meet and know you all." Oubliette, Elder Dark of the Moon Malkavian Clan Second: America Primogen of the Moon, Los Angeles -------------------------------------- Ree 9803.186/02.02.1444 Howl, howl, howl - oh, you are men of stone! Had I but breath enough, I'd cry so Heaven's vaults should crack! Message 23 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "Thomas E. Redd" Date: Mon Mar 4, 2002 3:17 pm Subject: it's dark outside.. >>"Who will turn out the lights?"<< *cough.. *the sounds of a piano playing early bach.. a 4-hand piece, precise and calm.. dayetha, "are you warm enough?" *he nods.. with delicate hands he signs, "when finished turn over?" dayetha replies, "of course, dear.." *steven nods and falls sleep, dreaming of the days behind and the days ahead.. not knowing where the leaves were going to fall.. he had his whole life ahead of him.. *cough.. *days, months, a few years ahead in time, in the park, during the banquet.. *COLD! SO COLD! I CAN'T SEE! *steven's mind rushes to catch a breath.. I CAN'T BREATHE-OH PLEASE GOD SOMEONE HELP ME I CAN'T MOVE! *his mind stuggles against the blood.. *the beautiful gates.. an angel bows down to touch steven on his head.. *the music, so lovely so peacef-what's going on.. *the angel cries..-the music it's hurting.. *steven falls to the ground..-OH GOD, PLEASE GOD, IT HURTS, IT HURTS, PLEASE, OH GOD! *he opens his eyes.. no one's there.. *the sun is coming.. in the static background you hear dayetha cry, "i'm sorry.." ------------------------------------------------------------- [**/thomas e redd jr /*/ teredd@u... /*/ icq# 264295 /**] [*Personal Web Address: http://idrainu.cjb.net/ aim# drainu*] [*/ CST Fettered Dreams: http://FetteredDreams.cjb.net /****] [**/ ADST To1: http://To1.cjb.net /*******/ cam# 9910-120 /*] [* "You got your big cheese, i got my hash pipe." - Weezer *] ------------------------------------------------------------- Message 24 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "matt Stu" Date: Tue Mar 5, 2002 12:51 pm Subject: Waking Dream KILL!!!! kILL! tRaPeD!!! eSCAPE! NOw bROKeN KiLL!!!! fEed fAIL VESsEL nEED kILL KiLL KIlL KILl KILL dAETH dEATH pLAN death fOuL hUnGER tORtURE FOuL blood blood bloOD BLOOD BLOOD!!!! foUL pAIN ATTACK!! pAIN pIaN pain ATTACK!!! TEETH! FoUL pain paIN PAIN PAin pain paIN PAIN PAin pain paIN PAIN! wehatesitforever PLAN GONE KILL!! xADIA DEATH lOST never alone SSSSCCCCRRREEEAAAAMMMM!!!!!!!! plan come prank xadia HELP 1ST Archer DIVISION PAIN!! TEEth teETH TEEth teETH LOST DARK FOUL SPLIT IN TWO, cleave arrow dEAth ELDER LOVE TRUE HEARTS DEATH DiE Die die PiaN LoSt FORever John Gone Feed kill all death DESTROTIATE DESTROTIATE! ENAROK THE ANCIENT BEHIND THE MASK Emily sweet and quiet Souls Follow the Fill of circles End SYSTEMS of DECAY REBoot; file Error, God Damn you foul creature! In the name of the LORD CHRIST I CAST YOU OUT, DEMON!! SSSSSCCCCRRRREEEAAAAMMMM!!!!!!!!!! Pain, ages gone FIRE fire FiRe fIrE Lost scortches of the Grey meep Pits Detha, lost Gone GONE! and we all fall down! True? smoke, we taste smoke Demons punished slippery souls Who? on First base, “NOW PLAYING” good hole some Plan, Foul, Prank, Pain, Clan, Dark, Come. Death. “ SSS “ EEE XXX!!! “Girls, Girls, Girls, Nude Dancers” alone, Alone ALONE! &%$*@!!!! NEVER!!!! NEVER!!!! Decay, decay pain lost silent... end of ALL. The Final... --Screaming thoughts lost in the quiet and infinite grey-- --The mind of Legion (the Malkavian in the purple and white horizontally T-shirt thaat is filled with shotgun pellet holes)-- ooc Matthew A. Stewart 2000-02-199 "Sure buddy, that all makes perfect sense... -glancing from side to side as you wait for sercurity to arrive-" -Common reaction to my Malkavian Message 25 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "John Reyman" Date: Tue Mar 5, 2002 9:05 pm Subject: Wonder Twin Power, Activate! "Crunchy girls in underwear with milky men in coats on shaggy rugs in Camville." "It is never a good day to die...unless first you've had your Scoob-Y-Doo-2 Snacks." ------------------------------------------------------ ooc: John Reyman phidas@f... US2002021793 200108015 last hurrahs Message 26 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: Barbara Mertz Date: Wed Mar 6, 2002 1:42 am Subject: Re: [MMNsub] it's dark outside.. ::The old Police song plays in your head: "Message in a bottle, yeah. Message in a bottle, yeeah. (guitar riffs) A year has passed..." Hands, just hands, feminine and a tiny bit plump. The nails are unmanicured. They Sign to you, but because this is in your mind you can understand them perfectly. "Another one without a voice. A Ventrue." The clan sign is the flattering version, resembling two fingers holding a cigar. "Another one who can't 'breathe'." "Sometimes an angel's touch hurts. Sometimes healing is painful. Sometimes it is good to be mad." Drops of blood flow gracefully onto the hands and wrists.:: -- Barbara Mertz 2000-01-106 or US2002021791 House of the Silver Crescent, CA-016 ----------------and Clarice to Anthony's Hannibal OOC: Cheri Eva Quinn-Maroon, Malkavian *Acknowledged**Trustworthy**Feared**Well-Connected**Revered* Dancing Mary, Brujah *Acknowledged**Beloved* Jani Ziff, Nosferatu *Acknowledged**Respected* Message 27 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "Nicholas Burden" Date: Wed Mar 6, 2002 2:13 pm Subject: Disavowed... *a map of the United States glows slightly, and suddenly you're rushing down a zoom lense twoards the southwestern coast, and finally you stop, looking down upon San Diego and, in particular, Falbrook* a voice whispers "Failure." *an image of blood diluting with water, going from murky red to a sickly pink and then clear water* "The blood failed." *A picture forms. The sire, smoldering with unbridaled rage (those who know Len Sugar will recognize him) turns his back on the childer (those who recognize Anya Ference will know her) and says "Mine no longer."* "A disgrace." *A crown sits atop a ruined chess piece, that of the Queen. It bears a face. (Anya's) as the piece begins to crumble, you notice puppet string leading off of it up into the darkness.* "A farce." *A questioning look into the face of the respected (Oubliette for those who recognize her)* "What is to be done?" *the question slides out of being, and slowly the reflection in the car window comes into view... a pair of eyes enshrouded in darkness. Through the window, you can see the hollywood sign. The vision fades* /ooc Nicholas Burden US2002022132 200103060 "Phoenix from Ashes" My friends will follow me anywhere... but only out of a sense of morbid curiosity. Message 28 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "Josh Humble" Date: Wed Mar 6, 2002 10:14 pm Subject: Re: [MMNsub] Disavowed... Sadness. Regret.. Bitterness.. Anger.. Failure... Laughter... OOC: Josh Humble 200007045 >From: "Nicholas Burden" >Reply-To: mmnsub@yahoogroups.com >To: mmnsub@yahoogroups.com >Subject: [MMNsub] Disavowed... >Date: Wed, 06 Mar 2002 12:13:33 -0800 > >*a map of the United States glows slightly, and suddenly you're rushing >down >a zoom lense twoards the southwestern coast, and finally you stop, looking >down upon San Diego and, in particular, Falbrook* > >a voice whispers "Failure." > >*an image of blood diluting with water, going from murky red to a sickly >pink and then clear water* > >"The blood failed." > >*A picture forms. The sire, smoldering with unbridaled rage (those who >know >Len Sugar will recognize him) turns his back on the childer (those who >recognize Anya Ference will know her) and says "Mine no longer."* > >"A disgrace." > >*A crown sits atop a ruined chess piece, that of the Queen. It bears a >face. (Anya's) as the piece begins to crumble, you notice puppet string >leading off of it up into the darkness.* > >"A farce." > >*A questioning look into the face of the respected (Oubliette for those who >recognize her)* > >"What is to be done?" > >*the question slides out of being, and slowly the reflection in the car >window comes into view... a pair of eyes enshrouded in darkness. Through >the window, you can see the hollywood sign. The vision fades* > > > > >/ooc >Nicholas Burden >US2002022132 >200103060 >"Phoenix from Ashes" >My friends will follow me anywhere... but only out of a sense of morbid >curiosity. > > >_________________________________________________________________ >Send and receive Hotmail on your mobile device: http://mobile.msn.com > Message 29 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "matt Stu" Date: Thu Mar 7, 2002 4:09 pm Subject: Deep Dream Grey vast and eternal. Grey that stretches beyond the bounds of the imagination and is completely featureless and numbing to the senses as if it were a wall just inches away. Without a speck of detail to focus on it is worse then the comforting blanket of darkness and the black void. You have no form or shape here and infinity is as meaningless as it is featureless. Gradually you notice there is something, the smallest detail of a ridged suface but there is no color. You zero in on the single detail and it takes up you whole excistance, so huge and encompacing it is everything. It is the one thing protecting you from the greyness of the rest of infinity. Lines converge and meet in 'V'ed formations, ever so crooked. Little dots pock the surface between the lines and the shading suggest that the detail has dept and curviture. You delight in the spots of slight discolorations in the black and white marvel. The lines are set in the surface but crests it like sperm whales on the ocean, nicely rounded and strong in their arching nature. The tiny spots are actually little holes to the interior of the stiff waving surface. And the dead dry leave continues to fall through the grate, moving back and forth until it lands in a puddle of water next to a extreme white bare foot. It is very poorly lit in this place. Water drips and drips. The smell of shit and rotten meat are thick enough to feel like a fluid as you inhale. The boy of almost 18 years of appearance with mousy brown hair and cadaver white skin continues his journey to escape, completely nude in the cold tunnels of black and white, his eyes darting to and fro in nervous twitching motions. He takes a turn and you lose him in the dimness of this area that is so much like the greyness. Without the boy, the details fade and more and more the distinction between black and white blend together until all is grey again, infinite and meaningless. -the mind of Legion- Mischievious; the Malkavian In Clan Status Dreamer; the Malkavian In Clan Status ooc -Spend a politics ability: No non-Malkavian status at all, reguardless of sect niehter does he have Reputaion, yup not even the ones you need to not get killed on sight, but no negatives either... Matthew A. Stewart 2000-02-199 US2002023380 If you know my character's history please contact me privately... Message 30 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "Nicholas Burden" Date: Thu Mar 7, 2002 4:09 pm Subject: Re: [MMNsub] Disavowed... *a question mark forms....* "Len?" *Thoughts swirl and dance, a multitude of emotions all clambering for attention* "Mentor... teacher... friend..." *a clock spins backwards* "Family still..." *A river of blood streams forth, passing beneath an ivory bridge, after which it appears to be water* "Water under the bridge of our past... colleague. Times have changed." *a broad smile* "Contact me." *the letter on a movie marquee begin to dance and rearrange themselves, spelling out an email address(nicholas_thor@h...) * *an echo fades along with the vision... "So many things to learn...."* /ooc Nicholas Burden US2002022132 200103060 "Phoenix from Ashes" My friends will follow me anywhere... but only out of a sense of morbid curiosity. ----Original Message Follows---- From: "Josh Humble" Reply-To: mmnsub@yahoogroups.com To: mmnsub@yahoogroups.com Subject: Re: [MMNsub] Disavowed... Date: Thu, 07 Mar 2002 04:14:47 Sadness. Regret.. Bitterness.. Anger.. Failure... Laughter... OOC: Josh Humble 200007045 >From: "Nicholas Burden" >Reply-To: mmnsub@yahoogroups.com >To: mmnsub@yahoogroups.com >Subject: [MMNsub] Disavowed... >Date: Wed, 06 Mar 2002 12:13:33 -0800 > >*a map of the United States glows slightly, and suddenly you're rushing >down >a zoom lense twoards the southwestern coast, and finally you stop, looking >down upon San Diego and, in particular, Falbrook* > >a voice whispers "Failure." > >*an image of blood diluting with water, going from murky red to a sickly >pink and then clear water* > >"The blood failed." > >*A picture forms. The sire, smoldering with unbridaled rage (those who >know >Len Sugar will recognize him) turns his back on the childer (those who >recognize Anya Ference will know her) and says "Mine no longer."* > >"A disgrace." > >*A crown sits atop a ruined chess piece, that of the Queen. It bears a >face. (Anya's) as the piece begins to crumble, you notice puppet string >leading off of it up into the darkness.* > >"A farce." > >*A questioning look into the face of the respected (Oubliette for those who >recognize her)* > >"What is to be done?" > >*the question slides out of being, and slowly the reflection in the car >window comes into view... a pair of eyes enshrouded in darkness. Through >the window, you can see the hollywood sign. The vision fades* > > > > >/ooc >Nicholas Burden >US2002022132 >200103060 >"Phoenix from Ashes" >My friends will follow me anywhere... but only out of a sense of morbid >curiosity. > > >_________________________________________________________________ >Send and receive Hotmail on your mobile device: http://mobile.msn.com > Message 31 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "matt Stu" Date: Fri Mar 8, 2002 4:26 pm Subject: Dreams of Theatre In the wispy and dull grey eternal, there is a ball of blackness that forms and attracts your attention. As you are drawn to its presence you notice that it is hazy black like a patch of darkness right before it is to be lit. You take a seat in the old comfortble theater seat. The arm rests are scatched, the floor slightly sticky and the smells of dust and thick make up fill the air. Slowly a pin hole of slightly green light forms in the center of the stage irising out, becoming larger and larger until it is illuminating an almost white pedestal about waist high upon which there is bright red sash that is being blown upward be some unseen rapid air current and is rippling and flickering like fire. The rest of the stage becomes lit and it is all painted mat black, even the backdrop, the new lighting lends evn greener tint to the white pedistal. With grace and skilled practice an adroginous figure leaps from stage right, and immiediately spinns ands kneels with head down. The figure is firm and perfectly formed. There is a long grey scaled tale that meets the figures costum where the a mousy brown fur that covers the figures back ends. Out of that back a beautiful set of moth wings, delicately tiled in all the colors of creation, wave as the figure breaths or moves in the slightest. Upon the figures face is a perfectly smooth and featureless pocilien mask. The rest of the costum is that of a ballet dancer that is an absolute shade of grey. With sudden clearity of motion the figure bursts forth from the resting position and leaps an astounding distance to near the center of the stage and in a frantinc and spectacular swirling and spinning dance the figure cicles the pillor that looks like a candle. With breath taking speed of grace the figures plunges arms through the flickering of the bright red sash and with each thrust an unseen chior of thousands scream and release a momentaty wails of agony. The dizzying dance continues beyond what would seem like any posible endurance and then the figure stops stage left of the theatrical candle facing it but head down. With reverance the figure kneels and siezes the pedestal and the red sash disapears as if pulled instantly inside the pillor. The lighting dims but gains deeper green hue as the figures lifts the pedestal and places it to the stage left of the figure. The figure turns and faces where the pedistal was and kneels head down in solomn silence. Gradually another figure rises for an trap door in the stage. She is thin waisted and very femanine. Her costum is a pink and tattered dress that would be fitting a doll and her pocilien mask has circular rosie cheeks painted on it like a doll. Her long hair is a brownish blonde with a little white mixxed in, which is braided into two pig tails like a child. When the female figure reaches the stage level she kirties to the mouse/moth figure and the mouse/moth figure stands and formally bows. The female figure offers her hand and it is taken and the two figures walts off to stage left as the lighting changes to a very very deep green hue, then all goes black as the lights are shut off. The person sitting next to you is an inhuman looking cadaver white boy of about 18 years of apearance wearing a tatter light purple and white horizontally striped T-shirt that is filled with shotgun pellet holes. He is near frothing and frenzing with delight and is clapping so fiercely in spastic motions that he looks like he might hurt himself. He looks at you and says in a cracking, uneven and vicious voice, "WE WROTE IT!!!! HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE.... As the figure continues to giggle loudly like a blood slobering moron you notice an old yellow program on the sticky unswept floor, it has writen on it, "pandimonium caught peanutbutter eater dance of family" then the greyness fades all of the imagery like a tide that sweeps away sand castles... -The mind of Legion- Dreamer; the Malkavian In Clan Status Mischievous; the Malkavian In Clan Status ooc -Spend a politics ability: No non-Malkavian status at all, reguardless of sect niehter does he have Reputaion, yup not even the ones you need to not get killed on sight, but no negatives either... Matthew A Stewart 2000-02-199 US2002023380 If you know my character's history please contact me privately... Message 32 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "Thomas E. Redd" Date: Sun Mar 10, 2002 2:22 pm Subject: Re: [MMNsub] Dreams of Theatre >>"WE WROTE IT!!!!<< *like a fading scribbling pen.. like a train on broken tracks.. a broken machine, torn lips, black feathers, rainbow pot o' gold.. *cough.. */father?/ "it's alright." *the red light-saber goes out and darkness consumes.. *a trumpet calls, a response on the ocean.. *ropes and chains.. nothing but a letter, single multiple together apart.. *bellowing wind across the mountain.. back west.. back along the path.. "it's alright." ------------------------------------------------------------- [**/thomas e redd jr /*/ teredd@u... /*/ icq# 264295 /**] [*Personal Web Address: http://idrainu.cjb.net/ aim# drainu*] [*/ CST Fettered Dreams: http://FetteredDreams.cjb.net /****] [**/ ADST To1: http://To1.cjb.net /*******/ cam# 9910-120 /*] [* "You got your big cheese, i got my hash pipe." - Weezer *] ------------------------------------------------------------- Message 33 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: Tetsuo Mawman Date: Mon Mar 11, 2002 2:56 am Subject: ...I loved that car... *You can hear a conversation taking place* "...had to blow up the car..." "...why?..." "...didn't want the cops to trace it..." "...you blew up my CAR!!!..." "...sorry..." "...well at least they can't trace it..." "..." "...do you think you can handle this job..." "..." "...sonuvabitch, answer me!..." "...that is what Green sent me here for..." "...remember that..." "...if you and I are going to survive, You remember..." ============== AFJ -US2002021852 ===== -Tetsuo Mawman, FBI Conspiracy Theorist, Phophet of the Court of Smoke, Occultist Extrodinaire *Acknowledged* *Well-Connected* *Loyal* *Cultured* *Revered* ============================================================ OOC: Anthony Fuentes Babbling Phophet of Chuck #: 2000-04-151 AIM: GideonsWake Sepulchre CA-023 ICQ: 66329178 Message 34 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "Marcus Kraten" Date: Mon Mar 11, 2002 11:05 am Subject: ooc:query hiya, there's another Malk who wants to join the list, please lemme know what addy to give him so he can get on. Thanx. for any who know Tony, or his character Quid, he wants in. M. Kraten Cam#200110068/us2002021766 Message 35 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: Aaron Gomez Date: Mon Mar 11, 2002 3:34 pm Subject: [MMNsub] Ramblings IC: "My lifestyle has really been changing lately." *A voice murmers through the Cobweb, the sounds causing not even a flicker of movement as another voice comes through, the vibrant Cobweb flickering as it had before as the next voice speaks. "Well...yeah." *Not even a murmer, merely an affirmation. "Except the blood." "The blood?" "Yeah, that hasn't changed." *A long pause, attention diverted to watching the flickering of the strands of Web as thoughts and voices are transmitted throughout the world, throughout time* "Yeah... I have to go." *Footsteps now, sounds ringing through as snippets of conversation are heard, and the smell and sensation of burning gasoline floods through the words, carrying the sensations over and through. The warmth of the fire, the smell of the smoke, and the sounds of the people yelling all fell one another as new sounds are heard: Fire extinguishers. *Memories of another time, another day override the current situation as the random memories are transmitted without warning or control. A large plain with men in drab brown uniforms charging up a hill, artillery firing off massive volleys into the mountain, causing snow and rock to fall on positions unseen by the current viewpoint. The men screamed up the hill, holding their rifles outward, the bayonets pointed outward as a new sound is heard. Machine gun fire. The men are cut down before they can move another inch, the snow covered ground bleeding red from the bodies as the artillery stops and the gunners now run in terror, holding their heavy silver helmets to their heads as the opposing force makes it's way over the hill, men in red uniforms, the Hussars. The Hussars wheeled the massive gun up onto the hill as they took pot-shots at the fleeing brown colored men. Nearly twenty men ran, and after the cylidrical gun let loose rounds, there were none. The Hussars laughed amongst themselves, their red caps falling down around their necks as the scene changed. *The street is modern, billboards and signs speaking of present day. Two men stand in the street, one in a simple sport jacket, the other in a lavender jacket. They discuss several things, mainly the state of affairs in Java and the possibility of a further inspection of the Prince's dress. Lewd comments are passed back and forth with a semi-serious expression from the man in lavender. The opposite man looks blankly at him before they heard a door open. A man in a black suit exits, followed by a taller man with sunglasses and an uzi in his right hand. The man in black nods to the men and moves off. They enter a car and drive off, leaving the two men alone. *The scene changes, along with the mood. Frantic, adrenaline pumps through the viewer's system as the Sheriff blinks at you saying: "Ah, I don't believe there is anything out there Mr. von Haas, but you're more than welcome to check." The Sheriff's yellow eyes and scarred body speaks of the battles that he has fought and the inner beast that was pronounced in his Clan. *The scene changes again. Mass confusion, but a roaring adrenaline rush flushing through, expending blood to flush one's cheecks as one used to do. Opening a car door and pulling out a gas can. One can almost smell them coming, one can almost -feel- them coming for him. He could almost see the red capped killers coming for him now. He would scare them...he would get them away from him and make them come for the others first. He poured the gas over the street, splashing against the car, making a circle around the car and the car next to him. They'd be safe from the killers now. He covered around the Mercedes and turned to Lavender who held a match. *Fast forward. Searing heat and a mouth ful of grass now caught woke him up more blood was burned to stay awake and functional. Lavender...gone. Car...on fire. And the suit was intact. Thank GOD for that. Dry cleaning it is going to be a bitch now. Dammit. Sheriff coming, not happy. *Prince will want us dead...but I'll show her. I'll give her a taste of what it's like. Maybe I'll take the Sheriff with me. Maybe they're all working for them. Maybe they have red caps and like to kill things as well. Maybe it's all a conspiracy to make sure that Lavender becomes one of them. I'll show them. I'll get Lavender first...if I could find him. Can't go in...Brujah will eat me. They're probably hired out to those red capped bastards. I'll show them. *Manic thoughts now, walking with the Sheriff. I could shoot him in the back...if I had a gun. I could shoot the Prince...if I had a gun. I could go down in a blaze of glory because thy're going to kill me, of course they are, look at them. Cheeky bastards with their hidden caps, that's right, show me to the room Wolf Boy. Well, how bad will Final Death be? I mean come on...I can float. *Flickering light now as the scene clears just long enough for Lavender to be pounded into the ground by the large Brujah. "You're coming with me." Maybe I'll find his baseball bat and I'll make it disappear, make him look for it. You see, you have to -make them chase you-. If you don't, then you're just asking for that axe in the head. Speaking of which, he better not have an axe, I'll eat the handle and then he'll have to hack me to pieces with the head. Hah! "...stripped of Acknowledged. Tolerated..." The Prince again. Lavender got off pretty easily. Just stripped of Status. Oh.. No, don't look at me. Crap, I've just been Silenced. I'll shave his head for that. Can't speak out loud. Have to keep the conversation going up here. Is the door locked? Did those red bastards take my car? That's it, I'm getting a nuke. Lavender's bonded to me? Are you CRAZY? God. My blood's poison, you're going to give it to Lavender? That'll just make him crazy with fear. Where's King Kong when you need him? We want the Prince hanging from the Empire State building. A laugh. A silent laugh thanks to that Brujah. I'll kill him. I'll shave his head and carve my initials in it. Or I'll forget about it by tomorrow night. Seems likely. *Now listening to Bach. Calm. He bred like a damned rabbit Lavender. He had twelve kids. Family Lavender. Family, not rabbits. Check the security tapes, you'll see it's all about venison and those rabbit bastards can just kiss my ass. Close the door!* *Endeth* IC: Otto von Haas Hater of the Sacred Black Mercedes Lucky to be "Acknowledged" Family of Seers OOC: Aaron Gomez #200109181/WW#:200202168 (or something like that) ACC-Prestige The Grand Illusion (NV-004) Reno, NV Message 36 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "matt Stu" Date: Tue Mar 12, 2002 1:52 pm Subject: Gray Dreams Quiet and still the unending grey expands beyond all comprehension with out tone or need, want or care, meaning or life. It is becoming familiar and you start to wait for it to end as it always does. It doesn't end, it stretches on and on. Trying to summon thought and imaginings is moot as there is no way to focus or see past the grey. It is eternal and unending all else is a meaningless nothing within it, without value or worth. Beyond all that could be imagined it stretches onward. It always end by now with some little bit of crystal clear detail or strange abstract metaphor, but it doesn't end and there is nothing but grey. Memories are no comfort, because within the grey there are no memories, no past, no present and no future, only grey. Spanning from countless eons to eons, it simply is. Without soul or mutability the grey does not change. Vast and completely filled with nothing but grey. It can not be compared to anything because it is all that there is, without comparison how can it be defined, and with out definition how can it exist, and if it doesn't exist does that mean there is nothing? The grey is eternal and unending in distance. All that has ever been know is in the grey, all that is know is in the grey, and all that will be know is in the grey. The reason for this is because it is ALL grey. Flat, mute, dull, bleak and meaningless the grey is the greatest of all things. Without style, flare or substance the grey sits motionless and stagnant. Homogeneous and completely even the grey is redundant in its complete uniformity. Every essence of the grey is itself grey in an infinite conundrum who's only answer is grey. Why hasn't this ended yet? Why are there no details or silly messages? It continues forever and ever beyond the very limit of all things, which all there is, is greyness itself. Tracing patterns in the filled space of grey is impossible because of the unblemished and absolute nature of the grey. Mind numbing and boring the grey sweeps all the things that have never been away, they have never been because there has been nothing but grey. The grey unceasingly is everywhere. The infinity of grey crushing all that is not grey until even you are grey: dull, meaningless and uniform.... -The mind of Legion- Dreamer; the Malkavian In Clan Status Mischievous; the Malkavian In Clan Status ooc -Spend a politics ability: No non-Malkavian status at all, regardless of sect neither does he have Reputation, yup not even the ones you need to not get killed on sight, but no negatives either... Matthew A Stewart 2000-02-199 US2002023380 If you know my character's history please contact me privately... Message 37 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "jeanettemalk" Date: Wed Mar 13, 2002 6:42 pm Subject: the delusions progress "Good evening, Jeanette." Prince Chris DeWit of Vermont/New Hampshire says. "Hi." The reply is flat, and slightly contemptful. . . o O (Why do people keep calling me Jeanette?. Dammit! I am not JEANETTE. Jeanette is my daughter - I am Yydri Caldrie, Keeper of Elysium of the House of the dark twins. So what if I can't sing any more. So what if my band has not heard from me in weeks. So what if I despise all things toreador. I am Yydri, Dammit! YYDRI... YYDRI... YYDRI....) Jeanette's mental rant dissolves into incoherent babble except for the occasional mention of the name Yydri. Message 38 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "John Reyman" Date: Thu Mar 14, 2002 12:28 pm Subject: Battle of the hour! (You seem to be flying over Cincinnati at night. You swoop down into the city, like a drunk pigeon and settle on a street corner. That is where two hotdogs, complete with bun and relish, dance with a small, nasty, fecal-covered sewer rat on top of a rainsoaked cardboard box, labeled "###DANGER!### Do not agitate, contents unstable". Then you look up and the walk signal changes to "do not walk". The hotdogs, sewer rat AND the box get up and walk into the street. There, they are met by a couple of rusty nails and a beautifully groomed poodle wearing a Rolex. For some unknown reason you feel compelled to walk into the middle of the whole thing. Suddenly the perspective changes, and you see yourself amongst the rabble, except you are a big blue fuzzy troll with bright yellow snot hanging from your bulbous nose.) You exclaim in Spanish, "The Lord of the Manor beckons thee to his potty, for thou art befouled with the stench of a hundred rotten ball point pens," but you know exactly what you said, whether you speak Spanish or not. (At that point they all turn on eachother and battle with day-glo orange toothpicks, embalzoned with titles like "Holy Molar", "Gumslayer", and "Lance of Boils". They lob green jello cubes with banana slices in them at eachother, whilst donning armor made from Velveeta slices. In the end, the poodle eats everyone except you, then goes and sits in the fountain on Fountain Square, and pulls out USA Today.) While reading, the poodle says "Asses to ashes, butts to dust." (At this point, you, the troll, begin melting into hot fudge topping and a single thought crosses your mind...**Help!?**) ------------------------------------------- ooc: John Reyman ------------------------------ 20010815 missing pieces found today US2002021793 phidas@f... AIM: PhidasTheMighty1 Y!M: High_Court_Jester ICQ: Darth Sillious (40899338) Message 39 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "bogsedge" Date: Fri Mar 15, 2002 1:45 pm Subject: Containing You The circle that circumscribes a universe in 1 x 10e6 Arial Bold. Within it, peices of you: grey: "who will turn out the lights?" the taste of the touch of the feeling that expands opens a sense of purpose encircling your hands dipping into the waters bringing the once-sand into your mouth grains scraping over the words that are written a palimpsest of thought gold-specks drifting down a dead river always give up and watch the live cities grow corallike in the margins to mean to mean that living is something difficult to do coughing there are wails and sobs over lost game peices that always return alembic look into the sun until you can see the sunspots playing in the atmosphere growing gravid with experience you and we and I and her and him can cut and meld anneal toward or away from a shared seperate experience that living is not for amateurs but requires conscious thought intentionality and this on and on drive is but artifice and there is grey the colour of the person who wants to meld all into grey but no one will let him no they cannot let go and be part of something that is not their bigger and the ghost of a bear holds her chest it hurts and wanders through otherwhere. and ends on a cusp. courtesy of the mks 9512-041 network "I'm not changing a fucking thing. I'm a writer. A journalist. I can't change shit. What I do is give you the tools to understand the world so that you can change things. And I'm stuck here, only hoping that you do." -- Spider Jerusalem, _I Hate It Here_ Message 40 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: Barbara Mertz Date: Mon Mar 18, 2002 2:16 am Subject: a Saturday night ::Pink. Satin pink comforter, mottled pink sheets. You feel rather than see them around you, wrapped around like a cocoon, or a... No. Not like that. He was free. For one blessed night maybe more he was free. Skinless shadowed and in pain, raw, enemies waiting why did you think that murdering your wife would rid you of her you silly naive man not that I blame you I suppose I would have too but knowing what I know now she tried to kill me and by killing me kill you I hurt you hurt me you were ripped from me but still you and I hurt feedback loop and now you're dead dead dead dead thrice Where do you go from here? Where? Where where where? Little shrine in the atrium for others, you too? Black band on beads, need to find very tiny black bands. Satin pink comforter, mottled pink sheets. The comforting voice of an old...lover of sorts. Hear him pulling up the cot, fetching dinner, asking me if I'm okay. I'm not okay. I'm bruised and battered and beaten and I'm shocking to look at. Maybe shocking enough that the old wizard will try to reach me. They were Ben's last words--why? Soothing words, offers of drugs, sleep, sleep, I'm dead, how can I sleep at night? The sheet is torn, I tore it, something to distract me from the pain inside. Satin pink comforter, mottled pink sheets. The sheets used to be white. They are stained with vampire's tears.:: -- Barbara Mertz 2000-01-106 or US2002021791 House of the Silver Crescent, CA-016 ----------------and Clarice to Anthony's Hannibal OOC: Cheri Eva Quinn-Maroon, Malkavian *Acknowledged**Trustworthy**Feared**Well-Connected**Revered* Dancing Mary, Brujah *Acknowledged**Beloved* Jani Ziff, Nosferatu *Acknowledged**Respected* Message 41 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "Josh Humble" Date: Mon Mar 18, 2002 2:16 am Subject: Re: [MMNsub] a Saturday night Mr. White... *a passing thought echoes through the night.* OOC: Josh Humble 200007045 >From: Barbara Mertz >Reply-To: mmnsub@yahoogroups.com >To: mmnsub@yahoogroups.com >Subject: [MMNsub] a Saturday night >Date: Mon, 18 Mar 2002 00:16:59 -0800 > >::Pink. > >Satin pink comforter, mottled pink sheets. You feel rather than see >them around you, wrapped around like a cocoon, or a... > >No. Not like that. > >He was free. For one blessed night maybe more he was free. Skinless >shadowed and in pain, raw, enemies waiting why did you think that >murdering your wife would rid you of her you silly naive man not that I >blame you I suppose I would have too but knowing what I know now she >tried to kill me and by killing me kill you I hurt you hurt me you were >ripped from me but still you and I hurt feedback loop and now you're > >dead >dead dead dead >thrice > >Where do you go from here? Where? Where where where? Little shrine in >the atrium for others, you too? Black band on beads, need to find very >tiny black bands. > >Satin pink comforter, mottled pink sheets. The comforting voice of an >old...lover of sorts. Hear him pulling up the cot, fetching dinner, >asking me if I'm okay. I'm not okay. I'm bruised and battered and >beaten and I'm shocking to look at. Maybe shocking enough that the old >wizard will try to reach me. They were Ben's last words--why? Soothing >words, offers of drugs, sleep, sleep, I'm dead, how can I sleep at >night? The sheet is torn, I tore it, something to distract me from the >pain inside. > >Satin pink comforter, mottled pink sheets. The sheets used to be >white. They are stained with vampire's tears.:: > > > >-- >Barbara Mertz >2000-01-106 or US2002021791 >House of the Silver Crescent, CA-016 >----------------and Clarice to Anthony's Hannibal > >OOC: >Cheri Eva Quinn-Maroon, Malkavian >*Acknowledged**Trustworthy**Feared**Well-Connected**Revered* >Dancing Mary, Brujah >*Acknowledged**Beloved* >Jani Ziff, Nosferatu >*Acknowledged**Respected* > > Message 42 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "Marcus Kraten" Date: Mon Mar 18, 2002 12:53 pm Subject: diablery run rampant the field of cobwebs unfolds before you and you see the Cheschire cat siting contentedly in a dinful room full of faceless kindred. at the head of the throng stands a proud, crowned ventrue. suddenly the crown is snatched from behind and the Ventrue runs away. as a new figure steps forward and dons the crown, he throws three staked Malkavians to the floor and utters the words "blood feast". quickly, the throng of kindred descends on the staked Malkavians and sucks them dry. as they are being drained, you see their souls being sucked screaming from their bodies. The Cheschire cat screams and runs from the place just as the face of the newly crowned figure become distinguishable. and before you stands Moriarty, a crown atop his tophat, grinning down on the Diablery at hand. ooc: this was not a death post. M. Kraten Cheschire 200110068/us2002021766 Message 43 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: Stacey Lewis Date: Mon Mar 18, 2002 4:44 pm Subject: ring... ring... [death post] ring.... ring.... [a single phone starts to ring, then another, then another. more phones then one can count start up. the ringing of phones is almost defening, all in different pitches and loudnesses, different rings and tones, different times and syncopations. Thru it all you hear voices, like everyone is on the phone all at once, trying to be heard, not noticing the other voices. yelling, talking, singing, swearing. voices which are known and familar mix with voices unknown, strange.] [Then, there is a pause between the rings, and the conversations. The silence that is produced is almost more defening then all the noise.] click... [a flash of light so blinding that eyes burn, they ring with the pain.... ] [when it clears a room can be seen. it is full of men. Men is long dark trench coats, business suits and fedoras. Some men sit, a few stand around with tommy guns watching carefully the proceedings and goings on. A large table on which a strange looking dagger design is embedded in the surface. The faces of the men are hard to make out in the dim light, their fedoras masking their features.] [amoung the men is a single female. She is hard to distinquish from the rest. Her bright silver tie stands out against her black dress shirt, long black coat and fedora. The small dagger pin on her collar matches that of the design in the table. She sits sipping a coffee, watching the proceedings going on. Deferance for the completely undistinquishable figure at the head of the table, completely wrapped in darkness and mystery.] [one of the figures slips out of the room. his leaving almost unnoticed, and frowned upon. the distruption of such an important meeting of the Family... the Organization... does not allow for such things.] ring... [The doors burst open, men in uniforms.. pour thru. The men with tommy guns open fire but it seems too late. the men in blue open up and start firing at the figures at the table. each one hitting one of the mafioso in the head, between the eyes. they slump forward in quickly forming pools of their own blood. the female looks stunned as reconises one of the men in blue.] [the fight that breaks out in the room is long and bloody. knives, guns, garrots, fists and chairs all in use. beating, hacking. blood every where. tears in her eyes as she looks up at the betrayer. tears in his eyes as he looks down at her. everything they've worked for for so long.. in ruins. her hearts work, her hearts blood everywhere. He looks down, the pain, anguish, hate, love, need, power flashing over his features.] [She a bloody, bruised, broken, beaten body, cuffed and still. looks up at him, pleadingly.] ring... [the dark figure, untouched by the battle, or the masses of bodies laying around, the blood or guts, bullet holes and knife wounds stands up. It walks over to the two of them. He stands unoticing the figure approaching. She watches It carefully and reaches out for It. He bends down and takes from her the most precious thing in her world. What she has taken from another, what she has been given. He pulls it from her pocket, tears running down his face as he grasps it. It looms closer and nods at the actions. It walks over and wipes the blood from her face, takes the bloody clothes off her and holds her close. He stands unoticing of the head of the Family. It picks her up in It's arms. The darkness leaving from around It's body. It walks with her in his arms away from the fight, towards the blinding light that is now coming thru the door way. She clings to It and cries softly at the loss and It's warmth.] ring.... [He stands and holds the small silver cell phone in his hands. Everything that she was and is is this phone. he closes his hands around the phone and squeezes, as if trying to gain every last bit of her essence and being from the phone. To him, as she squeezes, her body slowly dissapears as more and more of her is aborbed thru him. As he stands there, his silver badge slowly tarnishes, going from bright silver to pitch black. Tears stain his face as he slowly walks away from the mess he caused. as he reaches the doorway, nothing but blackness meets him on the other side. he looks at what is left of her essence in his hands. Nothing but bits of dust that blow away when he opens his hands...Darkness desencends on the room] ring.. ri-click- I'm sorry, the number you have reached is no longer in service. Please hang up and try your call again. Thank you. eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeepppp. [for those who have met her, you would instantly reconized the Face and Mind of Ana Laudnum. aka Anika Laudnum. aka Akenahena. aka A] yes, this is a death post Stacey Lewis CA#200109001 Message 44 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "Richard Forguson" Date: Mon Mar 18, 2002 8:33 pm Subject: Re: [MMNsub] ring... ring... [death post] do-Do-DO! We're sorry, you've reached a brain that has been disconnected or is no longer in service, if you feel you've reached this recording in error, please hang up and dial again, or call your opporator for further assistance. (Those who know the mind of Hod the Hobo, recognize the maddness) OOC Richard Forguson 2001-08-022 Message 45 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: Wendy Raimi Date: Mon Mar 18, 2002 7:28 pm Subject: Re:[MMNsub] a Saturday night *A white canvas begins to shudder and wave like a soft gentle ocean. A flash of yellow and a beige ball floats in the upper left hand corner. A tiny child, dressed in a soft taffeta pink dress floats in the middle. Suddenly, there's a gasp, as if gasping for air.* I can't breathe! I can't breathe! You fool, of course you can't breathe. You are dead. Its...it's so warm. You are so conceited! Stop it! Shut up you fool! But...it's Pink! And what about the Sea? What about the way it-- It never has and never will. Don't you know you're not suppose to date outside your clan? Says who? God. Last I looked, God was in Torpor. ... Don't you want to mingle? We're trying to bond. OH! *Soft, child like giggling begins to fill your mind and a gentle crack begins to weave itself through a mirror before breaking and turning everything black.* -------------- ::Pink. Satin pink comforter, mottled pink sheets. You feel rather than see them around you, wrapped around like a cocoon, or a... Satin pink comforter, mottled pink sheets. The sheets used to be white. They are stained with vampire's tears.:: ~~ Jacqi McKinney ~~ http://www.tagnout.com Lactose Free Malk in Pink: Lenore Watkins Cam #: Pending Message 46 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "Thomas E. Redd" Date: Wed Mar 20, 2002 3:57 pm Subject: Re: [MMNsub] a Saturday night *in the static darkness a tear falls, blood splashing on the cold, hard floor of the large entrance way.. *steven sits, softly down the hall.. looking at the shattered mirror that was hanging, his forced wounds, the message he wrote on the plush, white carpet.. *it was long ago, yet not long enough.. *and there are those who remember and have not forgotten, and will not.. *a violin string breaks as the bow slips over it.. ------------------------------------------------------------- [**/thomas e redd jr /*/ teredd@u... /*/ icq# 264295 /**] [*Personal Web Address: http://idrainu.cjb.net/ aim# drainu*] [* "You got your big cheese, i got my hash pipe." - Weezer *] ------------------------------------------------------------- Message 47 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: Barbara Mertz Date: Sun Mar 24, 2002 5:17 pm Subject: OOC question I just subscribed to the WW Malk list (I know, go ahead, throw tomatoes). Would anyone mind if I blind-copied my messages here? b -- Barbara Mertz 2000-01-106 or US2002021791 House of the Silver Crescent, CA-016 ----------------and Clarice to Anthony's Hannibal OOC: Cheri Eva Quinn-Maroon, Malkavian *Acknowledged**Trustworthy**Feared**Well-Connected**Revered* Dancing Mary, Brujah *Acknowledged**Beloved* Jani Ziff, Nosferatu *Acknowledged**Respected* Message 48 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "Abu Nahasapeemapetalion" Date: Sun Mar 24, 2002 7:52 pm Subject: Re: [MMNsub] OOC question i have no problem with it :) as for i'm subbed to both lists...(hands you a couple tomatoes to throw back at people) Bil Terry 9706021/us2002023267 CC of Crossroads of Deception >From: Barbara Mertz >Reply-To: mmnsub@yahoogroups.com >To: mmnsub@yahoogroups.com >Subject: [MMNsub] OOC question >Date: Sun, 24 Mar 2002 15:17:58 -0800 > >I just subscribed to the WW Malk list (I know, go ahead, throw >tomatoes). Would anyone mind if I blind-copied my messages here? > >b > > >-- >Barbara Mertz >2000-01-106 or US2002021791 >House of the Silver Crescent, CA-016 >----------------and Clarice to Anthony's Hannibal > >OOC: >Cheri Eva Quinn-Maroon, Malkavian >*Acknowledged**Trustworthy**Feared**Well-Connected**Revered* >Dancing Mary, Brujah >*Acknowledged**Beloved* >Jani Ziff, Nosferatu >*Acknowledged**Respected* > > IC: Abu Nahasapeemapetalion Ack, Oath-Sworn OOC: Bil Terry 9706021/US2002023267 CC of Crossroads of Deception Message 49 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "Richard Forguson" Date: Mon Mar 25, 2002 2:32 pm Subject: Re: [MMNsub] diablerie run rampant The sound here echoes, as stones falling from a great distance will echo down a well. the trails of whispers spoken centuries ago still have breath enough here, should they find a willing ear, to speak. This whisper has found breath, "Amaranth..." It breaths, employing it's life breath. A whisper on the wind catches this one and echoes in a whisper. "Amaranth." These whisper grow followers and the voices grow conscious, "AMARanth!?" it demands. "AMARANTHAMARANTHAMARANTHAMARANTH!?!?" The blood rage begins to overtake the view and the voices Roar, "Show me this Moriarty, SHOW ME THE WAY!!" at this point the voices crackle and explode, Changing the speaker into a giant turtle. "Damn it. I'll be right there. Where are you? we are here. i see." OOC Those who are farmiliar with Hod know his mind. Richard Forguson 2001-08-022 Message 50 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: Oubliette Date: Mon Mar 25, 2002 3:37 pm Subject: Re: [MMNsub] diablerie run rampant A whisper through the victorian house echoes Hod's scream, "Show me this Moriarty, SHOW ME THE WAY!!" Oubliette's voice whispers, strangely disembodied, from the darkness beneath the stairs. "Just north of Los Angeles, Hod, in the city of Modesto. And to all those of our family seeking refuge from this barbarity, Los Angeles is your haven. We will shelter you." Green cat's eyes glow faintly in the darkness, peering from out of the stairwell with anger and displeasure. "And in better news, a treaty with the Giovanni is being composed. I pray, all elders of the clan who wish to know of such details, contact me post-haste that I may hear your council." Blood trickles down the stairs, forming the words, 'oubliette@d...' Oubliette, Elder Dark of the Moon Malkavian Clan Second: America Primogen of the Moon, Los Angeles -------------------------------------- Ree 9803.186/02.02.1444 Howl, howl, howl - oh, you are men of stone! Had I but breath enough, I'd cry so Heaven's vaults should crack! Message 51 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: Rick Munden Date: Mon Mar 25, 2002 4:31 pm Subject: the eyes open *the eyes...open...their light shines upon a scene of death...bodies lay strewn about...blood glistens in the soft glow* ...at peace... *images of a woman...her long, black hair weighed down by a heavy, gaudy crown...lengths of twine lead from her body...her wrists, arms and legs...up into the darkness where many eyes watch down upon her* ...bitch...traitor... HECATE! *the eyes narrow...a clock's hour hand strikes midnight...bells ringing* I have not forgotten. *the casket is lowered into the ground...moonlight reflects from the dark Green wood of the coffin...it pools into blood and the vision fades* *the eyes close...reluctantly* (OOC: Those who know him would recognize the mind of Iason Mikalis) ===== OOC: Rick Munden US2002021219 AIM: TheKithless ICQ: 2557444 Message 52 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "Elizabeth Denton" Date: Tue Mar 26, 2002 6:47 am Subject: Broken Bones (Re: [MMNsub] diablerie run rampant) *In the catacombs, the image of the World in a tattered skirt and blouse sits atop most of a skeleton, straddling it slightly. She reaches down and breaks away a rib, popping into pieces with a distacted but fierce vengance. The image of an ornate cask of wine, sealed behind a brick wall has been somehow burned or branded into the forhead of the skull. The girl who is the World looks up, and starts at the sound of Oubliette's voice.* >"And in better news, a treaty with the Giovanni is being composed. I pray, all elders of the >clan who wish to know of such details, contact me post-haste that I may hear your council." > >Blood trickles down the stairs, forming the words, 'oubliette@d...' *The girl looks dissapointed and she hops of the skeleton, taking the fragments of broken bone and carefully putting them back together, like a sick jigsaw puzzle. "Merde," she mutters "I really was hoping to see if I could make him bleed out his ears." As she puts the last bone fragment back in place, the skeleton dissapears, leaving nothing in it's place but memory.* *In it's place appears the image of the same girl, sculpted in stone, who whispers something to her. She shakes her head, as she contemplates the sensual, erotic nude, and says "We're nobody to bother her, even if we don't trust the Heirophant to find out for us. We're uncontrollable, after all." As if to demonstrate this fact, she kisses the sculpture on the lips, and flickering, as she embraces the memory of its generation. She pauses, and says, softly "And he probably was ashes long ago."* (Ooc: From the sick little brain of Giselle du Pre.) Beth Denton http://aelfhame.net/~ladyq OOC Status: Cool 2001 02 130 US2002022746 PoE (IL-010) AGSA Toreador Timelines & Lineages Player of: Kethis Silvertounge, Silent Strider Giselle du Pre, Malkavian Max Spelman, Ventrue 8. But Omar lamented, saying unto the Angel; What is this shit, man? What care I for the Word and Sayings? What care I for the Inspiration of all men? Wherein does it profit a man to be a Scribe to the Gods when the Scribes of the Governments do nothing, yet are paid better wages? -The Honest Book of Truth [Non-text portions of this message have been removed] Message 53 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: Oubliette Date: Tue Mar 26, 2002 3:21 pm Subject: Re: Broken Bones You hear the echo of a voice, heard from inside a massive victorian house as the black cat sits patiently on the railing of the front stairs. "We're nobody to bother her, even if we don't trust the Heirophant to find out for us. We're uncontrollable, after all."... The cat stretches, extending its claws to dig deep rivulets in the soft old wood, and Oubliette's voice whispers in a disembodied haunt, "No member of this clan is 'nobody' to me. We are all childer of Malkav - and we ever will be. Whisper into my ear, and I will tell you what I can.." Oubliette, Elder Dark of the Moon Malkavian Clan Second: America Primogen of the Moon, Los Angeles -------------------------------------- Ree 9803.186/02.02.1444 Howl, howl, howl - oh, you are men of stone! Had I but breath enough, I'd cry so Heaven's vaults should crack! Message 54 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "Marcus Kraten" Date: Tue Mar 26, 2002 11:10 pm Subject: Re: [MMNsub] diablerie run rampant The Cheschire cat stands over a broken body, chared and missing it's head and an arm. the cat grins malliciously and shreds a top hat with his claws. "It is done. Moriarty is no more. Cesar Giovanni has the head, and the Gangrel have the arm. but HE IS NO MORE. Modesto is ours again." with that he rakes a deep rent in the body with his claws. "Twas brillig in the slithy toves, did gyre and gimble in the wabe, all mimsy were the burrowgroves, and the momewrath's outgrabe..." the cat mutters as he walks into the darkness, casting the torn tophat aside casualy. Chesrire Message 55 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: MalkavElmo@a... Date: Tue Mar 26, 2002 11:42 pm Subject: Re: [MMNsub] diablerie run rampant the snake bubbles to the surface of inky black water. "I am unconvinsssed of his demissse. More ressssourceful then you know isss he. Your eyessss decieve you. Assssss they often do. You young thingsss of Modessssto." Cassius OOC: Jim US2002021043 Message 56 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: Barbara Mertz Date: Wed Mar 27, 2002 1:14 am Subject: Answer to a black-winged angel, and its monster ::The beatnik strolls across a bare stage, smiling as she taps on a gargoyle statue, hearing that it is only a hollow prop. "Screw revenge. Unless it makes the locals think twice before messing with the clan..." She shrugs. She then crosses over to a throne-like chair, standing behind it, striking a pose. Someone in an unseen audience throws a bat at her, which she deftly dodges. Almost dodges--it ricochets off the back wall and whacks her solidly in the back of the head. "Damned Betty." She touches the spot where the bat hit, and her hand comes away bloody. Still she's not done pontificating: "Back up the ones who are here. The ones you can reach. No point recreating The Corsican Brothers. Not the movie, the book." She winces at the head wound, and walks off the stage.:: John wrote: > > "THEY WILL BE AVENGED! IF I MUST DIE A THOUSAND TIMES > THEY WILL BE AVENGED!!" > > The spirits fall silent, the angels ceases his > weeping. The monster sits once more on his throne of > bone, and waits. > > OOC > John Curl > AST Domus Quietum > US2002021615 > > _-- Barbara Mertz 2000-01-106 or US2002021791 House of the Silver Crescent, CA-016 ----------------and Clarice to Anthony's Hannibal OOC: Cheri Eva Quinn-Maroon, Malkavian *Acknowledged**Trustworthy**Feared**Well-Connected**Revered* Dancing Mary, Brujah *Acknowledged**Beloved* Jani Ziff, Nosferatu *Acknowledged**Respected* [Non-text portions of this message have been removed] Message 57 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "Marcus Kraten" Date: Wed Mar 27, 2002 10:18 am Subject: Re: [MMNsub] diablerie run rampant The Cheschire cat looks inquizitivly at the body, then growls and swats it away into the darkness. "no matter, he is not here. I'm going home." with that the field of cobwebs rushes up from the darkness to meet his paws. the cat digs playfully at it with his claws. "ah...home." the images of Alice, a sick little boy, and a young girl with a fluked tophat come out to greet him. "Home." Cheschire M.Kraten Cam#US2002021766 Message 58 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "bogsedge" Date: Wed Mar 27, 2002 3:57 pm Subject: )Whisperings of a connection long-muted, parallexing faint memories, wanderings, being lost, nostalgia of the First and the Last City caught like a leaf on the flows and ebbs of thought: Slightly hazy image of the inside of a tree. Two women in talk, one with shocking white hair and like a waterfall, the other hunkered down like a rock and ebony-haired. "I don't believe you," you said. The inside of the tree was damp, your wrists were hurting and your eyes were straining at the dark. "Peace, you will experience great hunger...it's in the wheels..." she said, again, fluttering her hands over the wheels on the dirt floor. "Are you sure it's not in your mind?" A sharp look. "I don't get paid by your father to give subjective readings..." "Just wondering..." you shift and smooth your skirt, then rub your stomach. You're sure she notices, but she doesn't say anything. "And you will have a great change...you will still be in your family, but travel great distances...searching for others..." You jump a little. "But that can't be, I am a Protector..." She sighs, "You will still be one, but you will also be a Chanticleer." "That's absurd," you whisper. "You will do it for your maya and you will have no choice." "I know nothing about stories..." "Yet you will seek them out..." "Is this my father speaking?" "Your father," she lays a hand on yours, "is a courageous man who does what he does for the betterment of our city." "You didn't answer my question." "Child, your maya will be...changed. It will be, sick, less than it was." "But how can that be? I take good care of it, sing the songs to it...I check my weavings every wheel...nay, more than that. It is precious..." She stops you, "Yes, I know. You are a Protector. Yet, this will happen. And you have to be ready." You sigh. "For what?" "For a great change. For the shamanic death." "Sounds slightly melodramatic." She laughs, "It is, isn't it?" "Well, thank you for the vague advice." You get up, "Whimsy be with you." "Fate is a lie." the images fade and mute to grey... and the distance scribbles the faint sound of a pen while peices of the was fall away and are consumed...( courtesy of the mks 9307-076 network The character Peace is copyright 1999-2002 her player Message 59 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "Leillia Astor" Date: Wed Mar 27, 2002 5:25 pm Subject: Re: [MMNsub] )Whisperings Roaring fire engulfs your field of vision, but slowly shrinks into a small flame. A young woman sits next to the ocean smiling, flicking a lighter. She giggles as she stares into the small fire. She looks at the two pink flamingos placed next to her in the sand and smiles, then cries, then smiles again. “Look, I can do it” She softly says as she holds the lighter in front of one of the flamingos and lights it. She sighs. “You can’t hear me. You fucking left me.” The woman begins to cry, failing to notice the dark fog closing in on the city. She looks up. “WHY THE FUCK DID YOU HAVE TO FUCKING LEAVE ME!?!?” Golden blood drips from the sky onto her face. The fog closes in. The woman screams, clutching to the flamingos, curling up into the fetal position. The golden blood continues to fall as the fog grows thicker. “What’s going on? WHAT’S GOING ON!?” The woman covers her face after throwing the lighter into the ocean. The fog thickens until nothing is visable. You hear the woman’s faint cries, and then they are gone. ~Leillia Astor~ OOC: Karen Goldburg US2002022433 (NOT my death post) Message 60 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "bogsedge" Date: Thu Mar 28, 2002 2:41 pm Subject: )Whisperings (hints of unknown burning laughter from elsewhere, of lighters and scarlet birds on a seashore...something looks up and scents the wind, drools inwardly at succulent memories and padpadpads over...) of parallexing faint memories, wanderings, being lost, nostalgia of the First and the Last City caught like a leaf on the flows and ebbs of thought: The first time you saw stars, they were endings, or so you thought. The creator had collected all the lights of the skies and kept them in the stars. That's why the skies were so black. Fuzzy image of Lady Peace in her chambers, admiring her maya, furtive scurrying of animals through the underbrush: Your maya, only slightly younger than yourself, catching the rays of the morning sun and shattering them into the rainbow that shifts about its surface. Your charge. Held nicely in the lapis lazuli cup. Within it, everything. It had not changed much since cousin Creatrix gave it to you...since he dreamed up then wove his thoughts into the maya. Then, he left, as all the others suddenly did. Abdicated from the Last City and went for the long walk across the desert... It sang when touched. It sang to you. In your warm hands. Yet, it would be sick. This perfect maya. "Blessed be, my Lady..." he genuflects. You hide a smirk, and courtesy, as is proper. "And how might you be, Fair Lord Protector?" He was wearing his robes of gold and cobwebs, which were getting caught in the thorns. "I be well," he said, as he walked closer and his eyes wandered, as usual, undressing you. You felt sick. As usual. "What brings you here?" you bite back a retort. "Oh, nothing, just the wind, the rain," he stands right by you, and reaches out to take your hand and brushes his hard lips against it's back, "a dalliance with you." You fight the urge to vomit. "I—" you pull your hand away, "you said you knew something about..." "Yes, that," he sat down on a rotten stump and smiled his toothy smile with his perfect teeth. "Come here, dear." "I am fine standing, Lord." "Quite. Why do you rebuff me? I have lands, I have money, I have influence..." You are a creep, you think, but say, "I am waiting, dear sir." He crosses his legs and smirks. "Waiting for what? Or whom? Or which?" A sickly wind blows, carrying withered leaves in it's wake. A carrion bird flaps from a nearby tree. The sun is weak. You don't answer. "Then," he says, "Let me answer for you. You will marry me, at the right time. Or," he smiles a big smile, "I will tell your dear father about you and him." He looks to your belly. You cover it instinctually. "What do you mean?" you say with, you hope, no faltering. How did he find out? Or is he merely trying to shock me? He chuckles. "I know lots of things. I know who you've been meeting in dark places. I have eyes and ears, dear Lady. Am I making you nervous?" You stop yourself from wringing your hands. "N-no." "You should really practise lying more." "I'm not you." He stands up at this, quick as anything, and he's at you, holding your wrist, firmly, not letting go. "Break it off. Or your father will..." "Let go of me." He brings his face close to yours, his spicy breath washing over you. "Or you'll do what? Scream? Don't flatter yourself." His other hand starts wandering... You stand there, shocked, almost frozen, feeling his cold hand touch your skin through your dress, then pause at your tummy. His eyes raise. "What's this? Eating too much are we?" He humms a few syllables of Enochian... You try to jerk away, and somehow make it, stumbling back and losing your balance to land on your rear in the dirt and loam. He has his serious face on, "Oh ho! Did you expect do hide it for long? Hmm, someone must be helping you..." You scrabble away, and bring your knees up to your chest. "My love, you will break it off with him AND you will get rid of your brat! Understand?" "I...I understand much..." "Good. Then, when you come to your senses, you will be mine. We will live a happy life, you will see." "I...have to go..." you try to get up, and fall back down. He's at your side, so caring, helping you up. You flinch, and stand up, stiff. "Yes, of course you do. Think on what I've said, love," he whispers in your ear. And leaves. You standing there. It is cold. And you start to shake. And wander back in a daze. and the distantly-fading sound of a scribbling pen, as bits of the was are consumed...( courtesy of the mks 9307-076 network Message 61 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "Nicholas Burden" Date: Fri Mar 29, 2002 12:13 am Subject: Change *The mirror is fogged with steam, but the eyes still cut through the haze... and from somewhere beneath them, a story begins.* "One night, I finally opened my eyes. I stared into the mirror, thinking about what my final breakthrough could be, how to truly get a feel for the power I was trying to grasp. And epiphany struck.. The tinkling of shattered glass filled the hallway. I looked down at my hand, and gently took in a breath and blew off the glass particles. Nothing too serious. Yet. I grabbed one of the mirror shards, a jagged-edged reflecting blade, and walked into the bathroom. I stripped off all my clothes, stepped into the shower, and jammed the glass shard up into the underside of my jaw. It hurt… a lot. But new knowledge always comes at a price. Some primeval portion of me knew that this was the only way. I dragged the glass slowly and meticulously down my throat, splitting the skin from the underside of my jaw, along my neck, and down to my sternum. Ignoring the steady flow of blood along my arms and chest, I set the mirror piece aside and dug my fingers into the slash carved in my throat. Then I curved my fingers beneath the skin and pulled back. Like some gruesome dissection, I splayed my throat wide. Turning to look in the bathroom mirror, I willed myself to continue my examination. I lovingly stroked my larynx as I began to speak, sliding the other hand down the incision and digging down toward my diaphragm. “Pain is the price we pay for knowing that we’re still alive.” Ironic words. Then I tore my own throat out. And fell away into darkness." *the mirror fades away into darkness* /ooc Nicholas Burden US2002022132 200103060 "Phoenix from Ashes" My friends will follow me anywhere... but only out of a sense of morbid curiosity. Message 62 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: Dubhradh Date: Fri Mar 29, 2002 7:59 pm Subject: Re: [MMNsub] diablerie run rampant A young girl in her oversized widow's dress and a small black kitten wander down a fog covered path. Along the sides of the road many familiar faces of others on the Network fade in and out of the mist, a cheshire cat in a tree who grins at her, a romany woman playing the violin, a young girl dressed in a pink taffeta dress, a black cat who seems a great deal larger than it's actual size, a snake sliding silently through a body of water. The girl approaches several along the road with the same question, "Have you seen Array? She's one of our family but she's gone missing. Have you seen Nix? He's one of my friends who's missing too..." Occasionally she turns around blindly in the mist, as if lost- calling out for her lost friends. The fog thickens, swallowing up the girl and her cat. (those who know Lillith Rath's mind will recognize her.) ===== "Sex isn't like candy, you don't hand it out to whiney little boys who won't shut the hell up.- Rachael Acks" Keeley CC and ACST Theatre Magique CO013 was 2001-05213 is US2001022368 Myu and Seimei's poor typist Keeper of Katsu no Miko's Wufei MnM (Mikagami no Miko) ICQ# 64509645 (feel free to contact me)