|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Angel Feathers Mule Vice Captain
|
 Posted: Sat Jul 12, 2008 1:58 pm
Unless xxdarowxx premits it, only she may post here.
What will become of this feather, charmed with two pictures? Who knows. Only time will tell what destiny has in store for the feather.... Name: Oriphiel
Keeper: xxdarowxx
Stage: Innocence
Last updating: 17 August 2008
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Jul 12, 2008 2:03 pm
Your prompts for your Angel appear here, as well as other things.Quote: Oh my! What is this little person doing in your bedroom? And calling you Mom?! Maybe that noob wasn't so baning worth... Oh, well you can't change it now, but what are you going to do about this little child? You can't just ignore her...
|
|
|
|
|
|
Angel Feathers Mule Vice Captain
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Jul 19, 2008 12:14 am
Table of Contents
1. Introduction
2. Table of Contents
3. Angel: Oriphiel
4. Keeper: Louise
5. Home of Louise and Oripiel
6. Other's In the House
7. Past Encounters
8. Prompt Replies
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Jul 19, 2008 12:19 am
Angel
Name: Oriphiel Black
Keeper: Louise Black
DoF: Julhy 5th
Gender: Female
Charm: Pictures of Louise's crush and deceased sister
Guardian of: Um... featheriness? Well, that's as of the moment, anyway.
Stage: Feather --> Charmed Feather
Personality: She's not even born yet!
History: Was found on the ground by Louise at camp; has endured a long trip and the charm has just been added.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Jul 19, 2008 12:24 am
Keeper
Name: Louise Black
Angel: Oriphiel Black
DoB: July 13th, 1994
Age: 14
Gender: Female
Appearance: There isn't anything terribly special about her; she has soft brown hair that can take on different tints during the seasons such as coppery to more golden, dark brown eyes, and long fingers, usually heavily ornamented with rings. Her complexion is like most other teenagers, not the most smooth with its blemishes here and there, but otherwise fairly nice on its slightly tanned tone. Style wise, she usually wears tank tops and jeans in darker shades, due to her darker sense of humor, but in the winter she tends to layer tighter shirts underneath the tank tops, hugging her figure.
Personality: Louise isn’t the most pleasant person to be around; sarcastic, cynical, pessimistic, and morbid don’t make for the best combination. Throw in a little depression and being gothic, you end up with one ******** up cookie. There you go! That’s definitely Louise.
History: Just read the friggin' RP. It's all there.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Jul 19, 2008 12:27 am
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Jul 19, 2008 12:29 am
Others in the House
{img}No pictures, as of yet{/img}
Family: Mother; Father; little brother, Jason.
Pets: Lily
Breedables: None as of yet, but count on some!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Jul 19, 2008 12:30 am
Past Encounters
Links: None
Friends: None
Enemies: None
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Jul 19, 2008 12:33 am
Prompt Replies
And I am found...
Camp had been shitty from the start. My they were all religous bigots with the American superiority complex, makinng them elitists, racists, and anti-gay bastards. My roommate, another one of those religious zealots, had moved out after the first week because I was bi under some crazy pretext that I was a demon worshipper or some s**t. The ironic thing was that these people were supposed to be smart; it was a nerd camp, and you had to do hells well on some test to get it. I was just taking it for the writing, and this year I'd signed up for international relations on the theory that it would help with politics in fantasy worlds, added to the fact that I thought it would be plain interesting. Wrong, wrong, wrong. All we did was read out of a text book and stare at boring, text filled slides on a powerpoint that always had the same black background. That sucked a**. The other thing was their "team activities." I was just about the bitchiest person there, and I let them know it. I hate people; I hate talking; I hate working with others on projects that aren't worth a s**t. ******** them. It was on one of these activities that I found it.
The whole lot of us -about a hundred kids with not a decent one among 'em- were walking god-knows-how-far in weather that could ******** kill a cactus it was so hot, and humid too. I was singing at the top of my lungs to some Good Charlotte and annoying the hell out of everybody when I saw it, just lying there in the grass. The feather was a glistening white and almost perfect, like the kind that came in those little packages, except more authentic feeling, I found, as I picked it up. It was so smooth, and I couldn't stop staring at it, stroking it, the whole rest of the walk. It had stuck out so vividly on the pelt of lush green grass, how the sun had caught it in a flash between grey, stormy clouds... The thing seemed to hold me in a trance. When we got to the end of this god forsaken walk, we entered some big-a**, expensive building and stopped at an auditorium where they sat us all down and made us watch Peter Pan. Nothin' against Pan, but seriously... The ******** Disney version?
Gah. Well, I suppose that I ought to introduce myself. I'm Louise Black, manic depressant and girl genius, or so I'm told. My sister died a year ago, and out of my immediate family, I was the only one who mourned. I found out about her of my own accord- My parents abandonned her when she was twelve, though I suppose I'll never know why now that she's gone. My mother laughed at me when she found out. I never forgave her for that. Elissa was my closest friend and the person I loved the most. Her death was the cause of my manic depression and slight case of psyczophrenia. --I can be a total whore, a goth, or one of the most hyper, panda-crazy people you know. Multiple personalities? Hell yes.
I have one younger brother; he's the perfect child: Straight A's, great at sports, loves his parents, has a girl friend, christian, and straight. Geez. He's always been the favorite ever since I found out about Elissa; that was a pretty bad turn off on me for my parents. Yeesh. That, and the fact that I've started looking more like her. In any case, my other "sibling" is Lily, my mother's pet airdale. Mom loves to compare us. "Louise, why don't you be more like Lily? She's the perfect daughter! She's so smart, and well behaved, and..." Insert more gaga rantings here. Ew, no? If I had to choose a favorite out of the family, it'd be my dad. He's a banker, but he's positively insane and utterly lacks social skills, just like I do. He's also the most imaginative (albeit in weird ways) out of the lot of them. My mother is probably the least- she's a lawyer after all with a face that just doesn't seem at all genuine when she smiles.
Okay, so I've described the rest of my family, but what am I like?, you ask. [Or at least I'd like to think you do, now shaddup.] Well, I'm your average nerd. I make straight A's; I'm obsessed with computer games and hacking; all my friends are over the internet; and I kick as at Battlestar Galactica. Booyakasha. The internet cord is my life, I'm happy to say. I run purely on Diet Dr. Pepper; if there's a lack of that, I take the thing with the next highest concentration of caffeine. I like anime, fantasy, reading fanfiction and sci-fi, and playing with digital pets. I'm a music addict, and I have a fairly eclectic taste, ranging from video game sound tracks to alternative, to gothic rock, to classical, to J-rock and J-pop, French techno-- You name it, and I probably listen to it. Oh, that is except a) Hannah Montana, and b) rap/hip-hop. Let's through Britney Spears in there for good measure. Other'n that, there's really not that much to me. Oh-- And I have a panda kigurumi. Take that, bishes.
What's this that's being put on me?...
It was about a week until I got home, still carrying around that feather as a little trinket strung into the weave of my messenger bag's strap, a beat up old one with My Chemical Romance still faintly visible on the dark turquoise fabric. The trip home, like camp itself, was hellish. I missed four flights thanks to those goddamn people who have to stalk unaccompanied minors. What a pain in the a**. When I got home, I found out that half of my clothes had been stolen, and my parents weren't at the airport to pick me up. Getting home, it took me about two weeks to unpack, when I finally found the feather again. It was nestled deep in one of the stray pockets of my messenger bag where it must have fallen some time or other during my travels. I picked it up, holding it to the light; I figured I oughtta wash it. Some of the feathery-things were out of place, and there were all those diseases that came with bird feathers.
I took my time in the bathroom, letting the warm water course over my cold hands and restore some of the circulation; that was another one of my many problems, the utter lack of blood flow to some parts of my body. Figuring it was best to just leave the feather to dry on its own, I set it out on a paper napin by my desk, not wanting to risk messing it up again. The rest of the day, I hung around on my DS, playing Namco museum and s**t, sometimes NintenDogs; I had a cute little terrier on there named Rose, as well as a husky named Caela and a Shiba Inu named Gorou. The DS had become my main past time since my playstation broke; Ebay was certainly taking its time delivering the new one too. What a b***h.
That night, I spotted the feather again as I was brushing my teeth. I had one of those super-man brushes that vibrate your teeth off; my dad insisted upon them for the whole family, saying that they were the only way to insure that our teeth didn't all rot out.
After popping in my retainer, I picked up the feather and gently brushed its edge with the tip of my finger, finding it dry. I carried it back into my room, setting it on my bedside table as I opened up my laptop to reboot it; the installations of a new MMORPG were done, and I was ready to try it out.
It was hells complicated, and my keyboard was being defective, so it wouldn't've worked to begin with, which led to a quick uninstallation before I returned to diving the net. I updated all my social sites, mostly small, unknown ones that only a few people regularly hung out on... That was the way I liked my sites. While I was browsing one of them where I was a mod for a mythology group, I spotted a myth that seemed eerily relevant.
I clicked the link, which said "Angel Feathers." On it, I found a quick summary of the myth, as well as a link to another website. Upon checking it out, I found that it was some sort of trinket shop... Weird. Strangely enough, it was also only about a fourty-five minute drive from where I live. Things were getting a bit conspicuous, and I wondered if I was dealing with another one of those pathetic, ******** stalkers. s**t. With a displeased twitch of my mouth, I clicked back and began to read the myth.
Apparently, some group of dead guys believed that if you found a feather like mine, you were supposed to attach a trinket of some sort to it. It you left it under your pillow over night, it would turn into a midget angel. What the ********.
With a shrug and a half-smirk, I got up. This would be pretty funny. The user who had posted it was a noob who'd been bothering me for ages, and I was itching to get the ******** banned. This might be the thing that I needed; one of our policies was to have some evidence that the myth had some truth to it, no matter how minor. Say the feather grew- Now that would make this a valid myth, but as of the moment, small people appearing on your bed didn't happen very often.
Moving my laptop aside and swinging out of bed, I began to rumage around in my desk drawers. A trinket, a trinket...
After a bit, I came out with the two things I wanted: Copies of two pictures, both black and white and from the school year book. The first picture that I began to cut out -rather poorly, I might add- was of my sister, fawn hair with golden streaks back in a French braid with long bangs over hanging her forehead. Her skin was dove pale, high-lighting the color of her eyes, like that of the see right after a storm. A few freckles dotted her face, and the bridge of her nose was peculiarly flat. The best part about her picture was the radiant smile that seemed to illuminate the photo.
The second person I cut out was different, and I suppose I ought to explain. Last year, eighth grade, I found out that I was bi when I got a crush on my math teacher, Ms. Snow. It was pretty weird that it happened, I mean, I hate math, and she was a teacher, but there it was, annoying as ever. Ms. Snow had short, straight blond hair, usually kept back in a transparent hair tie; if it happened to escape, it would always swing down into her face, accenting her cheek bones and framing her eyes -a lighter shade of my sister's- beautifully. My favorite outfit that she ever wore was a cream and brown striped sweat-dress with brown, cropped tights under it and flats. She looked amazing in it, and she had worn her glasses that day, so she looked positively brilliant. It was kind of odd how gorgeous she was... Aren't math teachers supposed to be geeky and hideous? Whatever, gorgeous she was, and wonderfully nice.
When s**t about my sister began to leak out, people -namely boys- started to make s**t up about me 'n her. While I'm usually a pretty violent, head strong person, I never really could deal with anything involving her. In the mornings, when people usually gave me s**t about it, I'd be allowed to go and sit in her room and just hide for a bit, loving every moment of the scent of her perfume which seemed to be rooted in every nook and cranny of the room, as well as the quiet scratching of an old pen that she always used to grade, quickly being drawn across the page, haltingly stopping and starting again. Then that goddamn bell would ring, and I'd have to march off to class and wait until third period to be with her again.
I cut out these pictures in rough oval shapes before taking my glue stick and lathering the stiff backs of them with adhesive, carefully placing them back to back before putting a book on it so as to make it hold without putting fingerprints on it. While I was waiting, I went and got a fine needle, carefully piercing the nib of the feather in order to lace a piece of plane white thread through, so fine it could be broken by a simple tug. After I was sure the glue had dried, I removed the pictures and also pierced through them near the top, knotting the other end of the thread there.
Satisfied, I picked the feather up, the pictures dangling and swinging as I lifted it, seeming to be caught on some invisible breeze. I was quite satisfied with my handywork; it wasn't at all bad for about eleven at night. Carefully, I tucked the feather under my pillow and resumed browsing around on my laptop, always making sure that I didn't put too much pressure on where the feather was.
Stupid n00b...
The next morning, I woke up, and, no surprise, there weren't any midget angels hanging about. I smirked and removed the feather, getting my laptop up off the pillow next to me and hauling them both to my desk. Plugging in my laptop to its charger, I waited for it to boot up, then logged in, at which point I got up from my desk; there was no point in waiting around for the ten minutes it would take to load all of my apps and messengers. In the mean time, I took the feather and tacked it up on the wall. It was still a pretty cool watchamajigger, even if it didn't do squat. After staring at it for another moment though, I decided to move it to right behind my curtain; after all, if my mother saw it I was beyond dead. She would put two and two together and figure out that I was bi, figure out that I still hadn't gotten over Elissa, and drown me in counselling, which, quite frankly, made me suicidal- no joke. 'specially those meds- man, they ******** with your mind. In any case, the feather was right behind my curtains next to the window so that some fabric would always cover it up, open or closed.
My laptop had still barely loaded my background, so I went downstairs to grab some "breakfast," though it was already two. What can I say? I'm a night owl, nocturnal. I had the house to myself -oh blessed, blessed quiet- so the only noises were those of my movements, the birds and cicadas out side, and the dog, snuffling around in the kitchen, trying to find some food. Clumsily, I clattered down the stairs, my feet thumping loudly against the partially carpeted wood. The kitchen was always annoyingly plain. Black and white tiles with black and white plaid wall paper, the top bordered in cows and milk cans. Black, white, black white. Boring, boring, boring. The stove -a hells old model that functioned whenever and however the hell it wanted; e.g., put it on 350 and it might do 100 at best- black plastic countertop, old, cruddy looking white cabinets with black plastic knobs, out of date microwave... We had ants too. Talk about a b***h. Opening up the refrigerator, covered in sports articles and a plethora of magnets, I pulled out a Diet Dr. Pepper and snagged a package of instant sticky rice, popping it inside the microwave for 2 minutes thirty. Randomly, the thought occured to me to put my Dr. Pepper in the microwave and see what would happen, but I quickly opened it and took a sip, trying to dismiss the idea from my head. That would be trouble from the start.
The sound of the can opened and the air hissing inside caught the dog's attention, and she trotted over, clearly hoping for some edibles. I sighed and got up from the chair which squeaked loudly at the shift in weight. Moving over to the counter, I opened up the bag of Purina Puppy Chow that I'd gotten her -it was the only kind that I could verify wasn't tested on animals- and scooped some into her bowl, red and tooth-marked as it was. After refilling her water bowl, she left me well enough alone, and I pulled out my favorite set of chopsticks as the microwave timer went off. I gingerly removed the container and pulled the plastic lid off, the steam scalding and the plastic even hotter; I handled the edges with my freakishly long nails as I set it on the table and went and got the baby gate, setting it in front of the stair case so that she couldn't come up and bother me before returning and doing a little hop-skippity-jump to get over it.
As I returned to my room, I found that the only app that still had to load was yahoo messenger, so I went ahead and pulled up a browser, opening a new tab from my favorite community site to hit the link on the toolbar above that lead to mine. It only took a few seconds for the site to load; I'd taken great pains to make it a fast loading site so that dial-up users could still access, even though it limited me to slightly less elaborate layouts. Pulling one leg under me, I navigated to the thread that the user had written the feather s**t up on and posted a reply.
Dear User,
On this site, we take great pains to make sure that all of the myths
posted have at least seeds of verifiable truth in them, each of us
documenting our sources and putting up the appropriate bibliogra-
phy. You, however, had no sources in referring to this myth, simply
telling us that if we doubted you, we should try it ourselves. This I
did, and no results turned up, leaving me in the exact same posi-
tion that I was in last night. While usually a false myth posted with
sources is excusable with only a warning, a new member such as
yourself with no sources is, on the other hand, inexcusable and
thus you will shortly find yourself in a suspension period for two
weeks, after which you will be on a one week probation. Please se-
nd any complaints or comments to admin@mythcom.org.
Thank you and good day,
~Darow
With a smile, I navigated to his profile and punched the suspend button, entering 14 days for the time period. Good riddance, anywho. Feathers turning into angels... What BS. Best just ignore it anyway. And with that, I never thought I'd hear from the wacko n00b again, entering my password to a DnD Ebberon MMORPG game and putting on my headphones to forget about him completely.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
