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 Posted: Sun Jul 13, 2008 3:20 pm
There was no brilliant flash of light. No sparkle. No chill running down his spine. There was nothing particularly appealing about the soul that caught his attention. It glowed and shifted with liquid luminance, just like the others that poured up and over the banks of the two Planes, like waterfalls in reverse.
There was one thing, however, that separated this particular soul from those around it. The others flowed in one of two directions in a single orientation- either toward Heaven or Hell- but always up. This one made it just over the bank of Heaven, slowed to a stop, and began gradually sliding backwards, against the flow of light around it. This one wasn't going to stay, Thazriel realized. This one was going back to Earth.
Well, Thazriel told himself, if that's where the soul was going, then that was where he was going, too.
He raced towards the edge of Hell, the souls of the damned pooling at his feet like a bright mist. His legs moved through them as if through air. Soon, he was at the edge, staring down into darkness. His eyes flickered up toward the retreating soul as it dropped from the edge of Heaven. Simultaneously, Thazriel's feet left the plane of Hell, and he dove into the wide crevice that separated his people from "those" people.
Souls flashed past his eyes in vivid technicolor, before he was assaulted by the darkness. The soul glimmered as the only source of light now, just within his reach. Thazriel stretched out an arm, found that his fingers moved through the soul's not-yet-solid form, and reached forward with his other arm as well. The fingers of that arm brushed against something vaguely substantial, and he gripped onto the soul, literally for dear life. Voices were beginning to echo through his head.
"Rachel! Rachel, can you hear me? Rachel?"
Pain tingled through his body, burned his face, shot down his spine, clutched at his heart.
"I'm getting no pulse!"
Clutched at his heart again.
"Clear!"
Again.
"Sinus rhythm ..." The voice sounded relieved, and the others Thazriel could hear exhaled a unison sigh of relief. "Let's get her into the OR before she bleeds to death. Again."
Everything went dark again, and the pain he'd felt only magnified. He felt disoriented, but solid for sure.
He had entered Rachel's body successfully.
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Posted: Sun Jul 13, 2008 3:22 pm
BACKGROUND
Heaven and Hell have been at war since time began. For the most part, good has prevailed over evil, and Angels have been able to keep the Demons in their place. Casualties have resulted on both sides, but it has thankfully been constrained to only those who have their origins on the Planes of Heaven or Hell.
But Hell has taken the war to a new battlefield: Earth. Not in their own forms, of course. Supernatural beings cannot exist off of their own Planes without a host, and they cannot enter a body that is already occupied. Demons, therefore, have devised a clever strategy: hitch a ride on the souls of the people who experience a near-death situation. When it isn't their time, they get rejected, and sometimes find they have a supernatural being attached to them as they re-enter their body.
Once inside a human host, however, they are nearly powerless. The individual still has control of their body, so long as they have their will intact. The only way their new guest can take over is if the person allows it, or if they die, again, and don't return. Many of the Demons try to talk their hosts into suicide, while Angels, hesitant to jump into a human body to begin with, merely ask for their host's assistance in watching out for demons, and fighting them if absolutely necessary.
Since these aren't normal possessions, they cannot be exorcised. The only way an Angel or Demon can be gotten rid of is to kill their host body. They cannot return to Heaven or Hell- they simply cease to exist.
The goal of the Angels now is to figure out how to kill their adversary without killing the humans involved, or at the very least, how to force the Demons back onto their own Plane where they can be fought without incurring human casualties.
_________________________________________________________
YOUR PART IN THIS
You will be playing the human host of an Angel or Demon, along with the possessing supernatural being. Demons and Angels have very little power inside their human bodies, especially when competing for total control. Sometimes, as a result of extreme emotions of the human, they can cause some of the Demon's/Angel's power to be utilized (mostly elemental and psychic power). This is very rare, and for the most part, the Demon or Angel must have complete control over their host body in order to do anything useful. Most Demons have found that human ways of murder are just as effective (poisoning, shooting, shoving in front of a bus), and stick to those, as it draws less attention from Angels. Angels, on the other hand, have attempted psychic warfare to force Demons out of their bodies and still keep the humans safe, but this only works if the human has relinquished their body to the Demon, or if the human is no longer present (read: dead), since the only mind they have access to is the one that controls the body. Sometimes sadly though...bloodshed is the only way.
On Earth, the battle is slowing to a standstill. The Demons can barely use their magic, and neither can the Angels. Deaths on both sides are only possible if humans are killed (which is no problem for the Demons, but the Angels refuse to kill). The only clue that either side has to finding the other, is the strange increase in reports of schizophrenia after near-death experiences. Bringing their hosts together with other take little persuasion on the part of the Angels or Demons, as they would much rather hang around other "crazy people" than deal with the voices in their head alone.
Will the war on Earth be able to continue? Will one side figure out how to force their enemy out of the human bodies? Will someone figure out how to exist without a human host? Will this...be the end of days?
_________________________________________________________
Character List{In order as they appear. Click pictures for larger view.}
Roxanne Violet Ryan {Harlequin of Chaos}
Angel ~ Damien
Luesa Donoghue {LadyMnemosyne}
Demon ~ Belial
Jenna Walker {Saenorel}
Demon ~ Abaddon
Mark Hannigan {Karu Hitoshi}
Angel ~ Gabriel
Jeremiah {ThexPuppetxOphelia} {Temporarily played by LadyMnemosyne}
Demon ~ Lilith
Maya {Hunter Mana}
Demon ~ Lockvogel
Chris {Lock_Wolf}
Demon ~ Lock
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Posted: Sun Jul 13, 2008 3:24 pm
Announcements arrow All pm's regarding the role-play should now go to LadyM. I am currently in the process of moving, so she will be handleing the role-play. Apollo will also be handleing this role-play so don't hesitate to ask him something about it. RULES
01 Follow the Gaia ToS, the Guild's rules, and mine.
02 Be literate!
03 Be ACTIVE! This means posting at least once every other day. If you can't be, don't join. If you join and shortly thereafter become inactive, I'll give you a warning, and after that, you get no warnings, but will get removed from the RP. If you no longer want to participate, be polite and let us know, so we aren't waiting on you for a reply, or if something comes up where you won't be able to post, tell us, so I don't boot you from the RP.
04 Don't be too active, because then the RP begins to revolve around you, and I don't doubt anyone's RPing skills, but it's not fair to make the RP about just one person and their character. I want everyone's active participation.
05 OOC chatter should be kept to the OOC Thread.
06 If you've read this far, be sure to put "bananas are crazy" in your PM to me when you let me know you're joining.
07 I hate profiles. With a passion. They're a waste of time, especially for a literate RP guild, where characters are supposed to develop. You can't possibly know what your character is like unless you've played with them for a while. So no profiles. All I ask is that you PM me with your desire to join, and when I PM you back with the go-ahead, make sure you include as much of the following information in your intro post: name of the human, appearance, how they came to experience their near-death situation, are they possessed by an Angel or a Demon, what is their possessing entity's name. The information doesn't have to necessarily be in that order, and you don't have to get all of it, or make the information incredibly complete. Do enough so that we have a basic idea of your character.
08 Don't worry about location or proximity to other characters. I'm devising a plan that will bring everyone together.
09 For the purpose of this RP, the setting is in modern-day America, though nowhere specific. Whoever makes the first post can pick a season and all that.
10 Be sure to at least skim everyone's posts, even if they don't pertain directly to your character. I've had people posting in two different time zones when their characters lived down the street from each other, all because they weren't paying attention to other people's posts.
11 Be on the lookout for other rules or changes to these rules, though I'll likely make announcements about them if anything changes.
12 If you've actually read all the rules, don't put "bananas are crazy" in your subject title (you can put whatever else you want in there though); use Gaia's ninja smiley at the end of your PM to me instead.
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Posted: Thu Jul 17, 2008 1:16 pm
}~{ Well, I was given the go ahead so I guess I'm going to make the first post. I really hope more people join. I really like this idea! Anywho...to the post!
Oh yeah, for a full view of my character, click the picture.}~{
 Swoosh, plop. Swoosh, plop.
A soft sigh escaped full, pink lips as yet another stone was thrown into the slow moving water of the river. Swoosh, plop. It was a rhythmic sound that seemed to soothe the ever restless mind of the young woman sitting on a large rock near the river bed. She didn't know why she had come here. It wasn't like this was some special place for her to relax. No, this was not some hideaway that she visited in her times of trouble, which were many, or when she simply had the need to clear her mind. This was the place where her greatest troubles had started, the trouble she tried time and again to ignore.
Sapphire eyes brighter than gems stared out between long locks of brightly coloured blue and green hair. It was just another way for this girl to prove to the world she didn't care anymore. She went against the norm, dying her hair random colours to upset those around her, if only for her own amusement. Of course, this did nothing to please him. He didn't seem too pleased with the way she had turned out, but perhaps it was because of him that she did these things. If he was going to always pester her, than at least she might as well do something actually worthy of his constant nagging.
Roxanne Violet Ryan, of Roxy as most people called her, had always been a troubled child. She had grown up on the wrong side of the tracks, as some called it. Her neighbourhood was the sort that you never left the windows or door unlocked in. She had been street wary at a very young age, knowing to stay away from dark alleys or shadey looking people. Her life had not been anything special. She was born to Abigale and Lucas Ryan. Her father, being the unfaithful man he was, had left her mother for another woman when Roxy was only five. Thus the two had lived alone for many years.
Many people in Roxy's life, such as teachers and neighbours, claimed that this was the beginning of the poor girl's troubles. Roxy claims never to have been bothered by such abandonment, but who really knows? In any case, she gradually descended into a world her mother had tried so hard to keep her from. Abigale was never around, having to work two jobs back to back just to keep the bill collectors at bay. It left Roxy on her own for most, if not all, of the day. It wasn't long before she found her way to the gangs of her rough neighbourhood, and eventually in jail. She was only caught once, and it was for something minor, to her mother's great relief. But in any case, it meant she had to move.
The move had lead her to rebel against her mother at the age of thirteen, and eventually to attemp the run away that had inevitably lead to that fateful day. When Roxy was fifteen she had run away from home, finding her way to the river. It had been her plan to follow it until she found some far away town or city where she could start anew. This was never to be, however. Partway along the river Roxy had hit some slippery rocks. Try as she might to navigate the now treacherous path, she still managed to hit just the wrong spot. She slipped into the cold, raging waters during the rainy season, hitting her head on a rock on the way down. Knocked unconcious, Roxy had floated along with the current, her head bobbing in and out of the water as her lungs began to fill.
It was only due to some hikers that Roxy had even survived. They had spotted her in the water and rushed to her aid, catching her as she hit a shallow area. The ambulance had been called and one of the hikers had performed CPR, clearing the water from Roxy's lungs. The damage had been done, however. No, not brain damage or anything physical, but a mental damage that she would live with for, likely, the rest of her life.
The voice had started only days after she had begun to recover. It was a male's voice claiming to be an angel by the name of Damien. It seemed he was part of some celestial war that had been waging long before this girl's birth. Roxy ignored him for a while, thinking perhaps it was just her mind playing tricks on her, but he was persistant and refused to leave. Before long her mother, as well as others in the town, had begun to notice the girl talking to herself. Fearing that the bump to her head had caused more than just a slight concusion, Abigale had taken her daughter to phsychiatrist. Roxy had panned out fine, hiding the truth about this Damien that would not leave her be.
She kept to her rebellious and often criminal ways until she turned eighteen. She moved out of her home, found some meger job and a crappy, run down apartment and lived her life away from others, secluding herself as best she could. And thus we are brought to present day where dear Roxy sits on the rocks of the very river that condemned her to this life of torment and but one voice in her ever crowded mind.
}~{ Sorry about the uber long post. I just wanted to pack that info into the first post so people would have a base idea of what happened. I didn't mean for it to be that long...but I sort of get into a rhythm sometimes. Heh...}~{
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Posted: Fri Jul 18, 2008 1:01 pm
 She was twenty years old. Wouldn't that mean that she could live on her own, without being surrounded by a bodyguard? Wouldn't that mean that she didn't need her best friend fussing over her every five seconds? Yes, she had been shot. Yes, she had nearly died, but that was a year ago. It was over and done with. What did her father care anyway? He hadn't been at the hospital, he had been in France. She hadn't seen him for five years, and she probably wouldn't see him for another five years. No, he would send bodyguards to keep any eye on her, bodyguards who could care less about her.
Nanashi Rousse. That was the name she went by, and one could say it was her real name. Though, on her birth certificate, the name was Nanashi Nadine Rousse, it didn't matter to her. She was an average girl, even if she was French, and half-Japanese. He mother was dead, anyway. She'd never known the woman, and never would. All she had was a photograph, picture of a black- haired woman with black eyes, who looked like Nanashi, had Nanashi had black eyes, instead of her bright amber ones.
She was powerful, both in mental and physical ways. After her near- death experience, she had gotten a license to carry, and had spent three months going to the shooting range daily. She always had a pistol with her, and never let go of it. She was still going to the range, just less frequently. But, there was something else wrong, other than the scar that her heart bore. Her mental issues. Some angel named Marina was in her mind, not that she believed the angel anyway. Who would? It just meant that she was going insane. She learned to ignore the voice in her mind, and learned to fight her instincts and her pain. It had taken months of therapy to get over the trauma of nearly dying, and she didn't want to relive it.
Why did she let it control her mind? Why did she let herself fall prey to trauma? What kind of person was she, to allow herself to fall prey to her mental issues? She was strong, she always had been, living without a family that loved her. She was always at boarding school, never contacting her father, who would never answer her letters anyway. She never called him, never saw him. He never came to her teachers, and they learned to ignore it. She was a model student, anyway, so they had no reason to. She had grown up to be amazing, just to fill the void that a lack of parents had. She became an artist, a writer, a model. She became beautiful, just to see if her father would be proud. He didn't care. He never even looked at her. Why did she even try?
Nanashi tilted her head back on the plush, red couch that she was sitting on. Her bodyguard sat across from her, snoring loudly. She refrained a giggle at this, knowing that he was slacking. But it didn't matter. No one would try to break in. Her pistol sat next to her, loaded. Of course, she had the safety on, but if anything happened, she would be quick to shoot.
The click and turning of a lock broke the silence in her penthouse apartment, as the turning of the doorknob and the swoosh of the door opening followed. "Oy! Nana!" someone yelled, only to be ignored by the girl. She turned away from it, trying to drown out the thumps that resounded, the sound of grocery being put on the kitchen counter. It was just Nicodaemus, nothing big. She didn't want to deal with his questions today.
"Nanashi, come help me with the groceries!" he continued, waking up the guard. He stood, motioning for her to sit, and left, most likely to assist Nico with the groceries. He was a designer, but, she knew, completely straight. Currently, his fiance was on a business trip in Germany, and he was taking care of her. She was still frail from her shooting, or that was what he thought.
He came into the living room, finding his best friend bored. A smirk played on his face, while an angry frown distorted hers. "Nico, am I allowed to go outside yet?" she questioned, only to receive a no from him. And then, she groaned, hitting her head against the couch in what was supposed to be an angry manner.
{[And I too, have created a long post. That picture will only be there once, so be thankful. Gagh, I've never created a post that large for a roleplay, even when I was a group of people. Looooooong....]}
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Posted: Fri Jul 18, 2008 10:59 pm
The dull roar of the cars passing on the street below were almost drowned out by the wind. Luesa looked out on the city, noting that there were still people in bed at that time. She stretched out one of her legs and extended her foot to touch the nothingness that was just past the ledge she was standing on. How easy it was to wind up in such dangerous positions when the nurses weren't paying attention.
Sighing, Luesa pulled her foot back in and walked a little further along the ledge, closer to her window. She had never been daring before, and at one time she would have been too afraid of heights to even look out of the window on such a high level of a building. But that was before her illness...Suddenly, on of her nurse's head popped out of her window, scanning frantically until she saw Luesa.
"Miss Donoghue, what are you doing? Get back in here this instant." the woman exclaimed. Luesa could have stayed on that ledge, but the nurse would have made a big fuss over it, call for reinforcements, and before she knew it Luesa wouldn't be able to leave her bed again. Calmly, she walked back towards the nurse and back through her hospital room window; the nurse grabbed her by the arm once she was safely inside and led her over to her bed. "You could have killed yourself." she said exasperatedly, going back to the window and locking it.
"Oh, don't lock it. It's so hot..." Luesa said pouting.
"What on earth were you doing out there?" Smiling, Luesa rocked back and forth on her bed happily.
"Belial wanted to get a better look at the city." The nurse sighed and shook her head, forcing Luesa to take a few pills before leaving her alone in the room. No one believed that Belial was real, that he was just some part of her imagination. How could that be true; he often kept her company, which was nice since her parents and friends never came anymore. He had told her once that he was a demon, but Luesa didn't believe him. He was too nice to her to be a demon.
The pills began to take effect, and Luesa laid down on her side as she suddenly felt drowzy. It had been about a week after her illness that he started talking to her. When she was eleven, just a year and a half prior, she became really sick with what the doctors realized was meningitis just in time. Throughout her childhood, Luesa spent a lot of time in hospitals. Her immune system was a wreck, and she used to cut herself whenever her parents fought. There had even been a time when the doctors thought her parents were hurting her, and she spent a few months in foster care until she admitted the truth.
When Belial appeared in her head, Luesa would talk to him all the time, though her parents thought she had gone crazy. In fact, that was why she was in the psych-ward of an acclaimed hospital that her apparently rich parents had put her in "for her own well being". She didn't mind it there, though it seemed as of late that everyone who had mattered to her before had forgotten all about her. It didn't matter, so long as Belial was still there.
Looking across the room, Luesa gazed at her reflection in the window. She had undergone a freak growth spurt, now standing about 5'7" tall. Her hair used to be reddish brown but had turned to a dark sable. Luckily, her eyes had stayed the same they always were. She had complete heterochromia, so her left iris was grey-blue and her right was hazel.
Sighing softly, she climbed slowly out of bed. Her legs didn't seem to want to hold her weight so she slid to the floor. Crawling, Luesa made her way back over to the window where there was a strip of sunlight on the floor. Placing her back against the wall beneath the window, she stretched out like a cat and soaked up the sun.
Even though she hadn't had any visitors lately, Luesa was still waiting for a certain boy to stop in, like he promised he would just before she was admitted. "Maybe today..." she whispered hopefully, forever an optimist.
Suddenly, Luesa burst into laughter before beginning to hum a strange tune, tapping her fingers on the cool tile floor. Perhaps she really was insane...
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LadyMnemosyne Vice Captain
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Posted: Sun Jul 20, 2008 7:40 pm
"Nicodeamus, I'm going to my room. No, don't send the bodyguard after me, I want to be alone," Nanashi called, standing and striding off to her room. She locked her bedroom door and collapsed onto her bed. The moment she did, her heart pained. She gasped, eyes wide, clutching the point where the bullet had gone through her. Tears formed in her eyes at the intense pain, and with her other hand, she groped helplessly for her painkillers. Finally, she was able to drink it, the concoction made by Nicodeamus, in case situations like that arose. It was water, and her painkillers dissolved into it, one pill per glass.
When it finally took effect, she was left, breathing heavily, laying on her bed. She took in one wavering breath after another, eyes shining with tears. "You know, if you just told Nicodeamus about this... he could get some help for you. You're death would be terrible, don't you think?" echoed a voice in her head. Nanashi groaned, irritated with the voice in her head.
"Just shut up! I wish I'd died, then at least I wouldn't have to deal with my family, or this pain!" she nearly screamed, but kept herself in control. Nico didn't think it was weird that she talked to herself, as he believed that it was her guardian angel that had saved her life, but her bodyguard was in direct contact with her father. And, if her father found out that she was talking to herself, he'd instantly send her to the psychiatric ward. She didn't need that, not for a moment.
"Look, I'm going to die soon. The doctors said that there won't be much hope. the patch on my heart won't hold for long, unless there's some sort of miracle," she said to the voice, tears forming in her eyes. She didn't want to die, but there wasn't much of a choice for her.
"Then, I'll be your miracle. Just listen to me," the voice said. Nanashi gasped, her eyes wide. She agreed in a flash, not willing to die just yet. She needed to live, for her world's sake.
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Posted: Mon Jul 21, 2008 1:12 pm
'Snap out of it, Roxanne. Do you plan to just sit here and throw rocks all day?'
It was that damned voice again, pestering her for perhaps the twentieth time in the last hour. There wasn't a moments peace for the girl of twenty-two years. No, it was always with that voice. It seemed so real, as if the man were standing beside her and not within her own mind. It was because of this that she had been caught, during the first few months of hearing Damien, 'speaking to herself'. After a time she had mastered the knowledge of the difference between the voice in her mind and those without. Even so, she did slip up now and then, usually when not paying attention or when she was particularily emotional. It was the former which caused her to actually growl aloud.
"Would you stop calling me that! It's Roxy, got it? And what if I was planning to throw rocks all day? There's nothing you can do about it." Her voice was rather cruel and condescending as she replied to Damien. There was a tension between them that had grown greater over the past few years. Roxy blamed him for her lack of a normal life. She couldn't date because that bloody voice was always in her mind complaining about having to save the world, or some other righteous jargin.
There was a sigh within her mind and Roxy grinned, knowing that her words were the truth. She had, at first, been afraid that this angel, as he claimed to be, would take over control of her body and force her to help him in this war of which she believed she had no part. After a few days she had discovered that he couldn't do such a thing, and ever since she had been sure to bring it up whenever she could, if only to silence him for a few minutes.
The complete silence fell between them and Roxy was happy for it. She could hear, once again, the soft bubbling of the river, so seemingly calm during this season. The rains had come and gone, the river had risen and shrunk once more, leaving it to simply pass by slowly as if it had never raged before. But Roxy knew better than to underestimate the beast that this river could be. It was deadly, she knew, yet still she visited this place. It was almost a silent reminder that her own foolish behaviour had caused her to forever be cursed with the annoying presence of Damien.
'Hey, come on now, I'm not that bad.' Once again his voice filled her mind. Roxy simply rolled her eyes, placing her palms flat on the dry, rough surface of the rock and pushing herself upwards with both arms and legs. She dusted off her hands and then the back of her faded black jeans. She looked over the water once more, her bright eyes showing only a hint of the pain she locked away within her own heart. She never did like showing emotions other than perhaps cruelty and anger. It was the only way she knew how to act, the only way to protect herself from the harsh pain the world had to offer.
"Get out of my mind. Some angel you are, prying into my thoughts like that." She commented as she turned about, heading for the path that would lead her back to the city. She had many hours to kill before she would have to be back at her job. She had, after all, gotten up rather early despite her late night. It was a habit of hers not to sleep much. She had always had insomnia but it had gotten worse with the arrival of Damien, restricting her to usually no more than a few hours a night. Still, she managed to make her body grow accustomed to the lack of rest and functioned just fine, for the most part.
She found the path with ease and began her slow trek back, not caring if she wasted time out here. It was nice to be away from the city, away from the noise it provided and the rather frustrating crowds. Roxy didn't like people, she didn't like crowds or having others pry into her life. The only reason she had stayed in the city was simply her lack of funding for a move to more than another dirty district in the same horrid city. Thus she was forced to stay and work her bartending job at one of the better clubs in the city. She had only managed to make her way in there by having a pure knack for creating some of the best drinks the city had ever seen. In fact, she general had a nightly special, a drink that was usually potent enough to knock a person out after only a few glasses. It certainly kept business booming with mankind's natural curiosity driving people to come back to see what she would come up with next.
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Posted: Tue Jul 22, 2008 11:37 am
Jenna Walker sat beside the bed, her eyes flicking over a magazine she held in her freckled hands. The machines sharing the room beeped and buzzed, and constant reminder that the man lying in the bed was indeed alive. Not too long ago she had been a room very much like this one, hooked up to machines that bleeped in just the same way, with nurses and doctors and "family" and "friends" coming and going all day and all night.
She supposed that was what happened when someone was almost dead. That is, people came and went and pretended to care. At least, that's what they did when it was someone over whom they were supposed to care.
Jenna was the adopted daughter of an average, middle-class family that wanted to prove to the world just how generous and wonderful they were. Unfortunately, generous and wonderful were not quite what they turned out to be. Her mother, Ann, tried to fit Jenna in a box, constantly pushing and pulling, trying to shape her into the perfect, lovely daughter she'd always wanted. Jenna, however, wanted to snowboard, not ski, paint people in the nude, not apples in a basket, get dreadlocks, not long blonde hair... the list went on and on of what she did wrong, and her mother never neglected to point it out.
Despite this, things had worked fine between all of them until Andrew had come into her life. She had never planned or expected to be one of those girls, but suddenly she found herself daydreaming at work, writing sappy love songs and home, and thinking constantly about him. When he proposed to her at eighteen years of age, she'd accepted.
Her mother were furious. She felt that Jenna was throwing everything away, even if what she'd had was not what she'd wished for her. There had been fights and arguments, and everything had fallen to pieces. Her parents had even started arguing, and it drove her insane. She spent more time out of the house than ever, which only aggravated the problem.
It was on the evening of her nineteenth birthday that everthing truly shattered. Her father, Harvey, had been driving Andrew and her home to his house, for her parents had divorced four months earlier, and they were all in high spirits. It was a Friday night, and a drunk driver crossed the line and hit them head on. She didn't remember much, but the end result was her father was dead, Andrew was in a coma, and she was missing three fingers on her right hand among numerous other half-healed injuries.
The doctors said it was a miracle she was alive. The nurses did what they could to ease her pain. Her mother... told her it was all her fault, and never came back again.
Other people came, but it could do nothing to lessen the aching throb where the her heart bled from the hole her father's life left, nor the sharp pain that accompanied the news that Andrew may never wake up. Nor did it do anything to silence the sickly sweet voice that whispered to her in the dark. She thought she was going insane. She feared she was turning into the schizophrenic her biological mother was.
Jenna put the magazine down, reaching out with her disfigured hand to gently touch the pale skin of the man in the bed.
"You could always just pull the plug," the voice whispered. Beelzebub, she had taken to calling it half-fondly. "Then all you would have to do is walk out into traffic and look! You're together again."
"I've already survived one traffic accident. What makes you think I wouldn't survive another?" She had given up trying to ignore the voice. It only made it worse.
"I would make sure you didn't." There was a small silence while she contemplated the thought. In all honesty, it tempted her. No more dealing with Harvey's death, no more worrying about Andrew -
"No more fighting with mother," Beelzebub added sneakily.
"Piss off," Jenna growled, going back to her magazine. The thought stuck in her head though, and she could almost taste his smug satisfaction.
Great, now it has a gender, she thought, wondering if personifying the voice in her head meant she was becoming more insane. She concentrated hard on her magazine, trying to lose herself in the insignificant details. Beelzebub said nothing more, and eventually she was swallowed up by the scandal of the celebrities (although she hated herself for it), and all was returned to normal in her world.
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Posted: Tue Jul 22, 2008 1:12 pm
"I'm going out!" Nanashi called, running down the stairs in her heavy, platform boots that were all the rage in the city this season. Nicodeamus looked at her worriedly, and she pointed to her pistol. He shrugged in surrender, his strong willed friend wouldn't obey him. The bodyguard made to follow, but was stopped by a vehement glare from Nanashi. Marina seemed to be urging her on in her mind, cries of 'Go, Go!' echoing in her head.
Nanashi ran out of the apartment, her steps quick and hurried. She was in her private elevator, the only one that led to the Penthouse apartment, and pressed the button to go downstairs. Maybe she'll pay a visit to the hospital, the guy who'd been her nurse was kind of cute... Nah... She wanted to go to the park. She was a sucker for swings, and the park in the center of the apartment circle was practically built for adults to play around in.
She sat down on the swing, just swinging gently back and forth on it. Music was blaring from one of the aparments, and while she knew that someone would be yelling at them to turn it off, she nodded her head back and forth to the heavy metal tune. "Ugh, what is that crap? It's sounds like someone throwing a set of drums down the stairs, then beating it with a guitar!" she heard Marina groan, and suppresed laughing aloud, settling for a giggle.
"I like that music, you know," she muttered under her breath, words only for Marina's ears. She could hear Marina groan, and could almost see the female angel shake her head.
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Posted: Tue Jul 22, 2008 3:41 pm
Soft scuffling sounds seemed to fill the warm air with every step that Roxy took. Her black skater shoes left flat, neat designs in the dirt as she moved down the dusty trail that would eventually lead her back into the city. This place was oddly peaceful, despite the horror that had occurred for her all those years ago. Still, she had been fifteen then, and foolish to boot. But seven years had passed since her near fatal fall. If she hadn't gotten over the shock and trauma by now than something really was wrong. You know, something besides the constant voice in her head.
'It's about time we headed back. You know, things wouldn't be so bad if you opened up and talked to me a little more.' The voice was almost pleading as Damien tried, yet again, to reason with Roxy. It almost seemed as if he hoped they could be friends. That, as far as she was concerned, was not possible. For one, he was nothing more than a voice taking up space in her mind. Secondly, he had intruded in her life, effecively ruining any chance at normalcy (should she have wanted it) to fly straight out of the metaphorical window.
"Yeah, that would be wonderful. I can just see it now. We'll talk all the time and we'll be the best of friends, right up and past the point where they throw me in the nut house for talking to 'voices'." Roxy's tone, as was usual in conversations like this, was condescending. It was as though she were speaking to a very slow child who just didn't seem to understand the point. "Look, you're the one who barged into my life expecting something from me. It's not my fault you happened to pick the wrong girl."
Her bright eyes focused through the trees as she walked, seeing in the distance and through thick trunks the city she was aiming for. She wasn't far off, actually, and would likely be hitting the more suburban areas soon enough. First would be the nice houses built on the edge of city and forest in an attempt to be 'one with nature' while still keeping to their need for the city life. Then she would have to pass through the nicer buildings and homes before she could reach her side of the city, better known as the slums. She didn't have a lot of money and wasn't born to some priveledge family, so Roxy had to live in those apartments that you hear about on the news involved in some drug bust or some prostitution scandal. Gun shots were a regular sound for the young woman and didn't seem to phase her in the least.
A vibration in her pocket caused her to snap out of her little trance and she looked down. Her left hand had moved into the pocket of her red zip up hoodie sweater while her right dangled limp at her side. As the vibration continued, alerting her to a call on her cheap but affective cell phone she reached into the pocket with the dangling hand. She pulled out a black phone adorned by a cover that showcased a rather intricately drawn design including a scull and guitar for crossbones, as well as many lines that were reminiscent of a tribal design. She flipped open the lid and pressed the phone to her ear.
"Hello?" She answered, waiting to hear who it was on the other end. Her once attentive stature faded when the voice of her mother droned on the other end. "Roxanne? Are you coming by the house tonight? I thought maybe we could have dinner together." Her mother's tone was always so hopeful, as if she could ever win back the once sweet daughter she claimed to have had. Roxy simply sighed, hating when people called her by her full name and not truly wanting to talk to her mother.
"No. I told you yesterday I'm working every night this week." Her tone grew more aggitated the longer she was on the phone with her mother, as if the woman simply rubbed her the wrong way.
'You really should be nicer to your mother, she's only trying to spend time with you.' Damien was the last person she wanted to hear from right then and her frustration at her mother's apparent lack of listening and Damien's constant nagging got to her. "Nobody asked you." She said, forgetting she was still on the phone with her mother.
"What are you talking about?" Her mother's concerned voice chimed in, having been interupted in the middle of some guilt trip by Roxy's voice. Lifting her left hand to her temples to rub them in a rather exasperated manner Roxy closed her eyes, cursing mentally at the slip which caused a sigh from Damien. "I wasn't talking to you, mother. It was just some jerk on the street." She lied, knowing full well her mother would believe her. Thankfully she had managed to convince those around her that the voices from after her accident had ceased, leading them to believe it had simply been a part of her trauma. But now and then she would slip, as she just had, and it wasn't always that easy to come up with a good excuse for talking to herself.
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Posted: Mon Jul 28, 2008 8:06 am
Times were rough here in the big city. One day your on top of the world, a leading header in the business world, and the next your left for dead on the side of the road for getting involved with the wrong type of people. Power was a drug, and always provided the necessary high he needed for everyday life. He had always been a decent upstanding man, beautiful wife...smart kid, what did it matter to him if the two left him. He still had his sweet power, or at least he did. Now he found himself in the alleyway with a needle of some crap he bought off a local dealer. Too much to handle...hmph! He didn't care anymore, all he wanted was a sweet ride into non-existence. He didn't believe in God nor the Devil, so you could sorta say he was agnostic. Life had betrayed him, so he gave up. He even tried to go back to his family....his wife and son...but already someone had moved into his spot. Times man of the year was now part of the growing number of homeless, drunks, and crack addicts that now plagued these streets, but as he looked down at his forearm looking for a good vein to inject his sweet poison into...did he have any regrets...plenty, but it didn't matter now, and with that he injected the large amount of cocaine into his system feeling the effects instantly. At first there was sweet bliss, the kind that tended to melt away your cares and troubles, but then there was agony. His muscles became stiff as a plank, and soon after began to lock up, and his body began to shake uncontrollably. Consciousness seemed to slip away as he laid there on the side of the road left for dead of a overdose of too much medication. Red flashing lights were all that he could remember, and of course a rising feeling, as if he was being hoisted up somewhere.
He awoke in a white sterile atmosphere where everything seemed coated down with white. At first he questioned if he was still alive, but knew the answer when he shortly began to gag on the tube that was shoved down his throat. He quickly tugged on it, pulling it out, and leaned over one side of the bed to spit whatever vomit had accumulated in his throat. He wiped his lips, and reached for his charts on the side of the bed, and sighed. Mr. Mark Hannigan, inpatient at St.Jude's hospital...what a shame.
"You really did it this time didn't you Mark?" asked a voice from behind a curtain. His brow arched as he strained to see who was speaking to him only to see a looming shadow.
"All questions will be answered in due time Mr.Hannigan, but for now...just sleep," commanded the looming shadow.
Fatigue soon started to shroud Mark's sense of judgment, and he quickly strained to see whom was behind the curtain only to see a plume of feathers of a large wing. His mind began to race...was he hallucinating? Giant birds...hmph that'll be the day. He strained once more fighting the sleep, finally getting a decent picture of whom was speaking at him, and soon fell into a deadly silence. It couldn't have been...an angel.
"Mr.Hannigan...I told you once...all questions will be answered in due time...but for now I'll tell you my name...you may call me Gabriel. Now sleep," commanded the winged figure as he spread his massive angelic wings.
With that final command he soon fell into a deep slumber.
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Posted: Tue Jul 29, 2008 3:06 pm
Roxanne had finally made her way into the city, passing through the nicer neighbourhoods first before she made her way closer to the center. The looks she got caused a rather sly grin to sweep across her lips. Oh yes, she certainly loved how absolutely appalled people seemed to be when they saw her brightly coloured hair which fell over her face and covered her eyes, at least from an outwards perspective. She could actually still see just fine through the strands of her long hair, the silky, multicoloured locks hindering nothing for her. Damien had evidently ceased his nattering about how rude she had apparently been on the phone with her mother, settling with silence which suited the young woman just fine.
Now came the rough streets that so many in this city avoided. Each alley was littered with the homeless, prostitutes or druggies. She could see those dulled eyes staring at her as she walked past as if they could will her to give them what little she had if only to feed them for a day or cloth them for a week. Roxy didn't pity those people, not in the least. It wasn't like her life had been a bed of roses, but somehow she still managed to keep herself off the streets and fed and clothed, even if the food was meager and the clothes ragged.
She now slipped down a rather dark looking alley as a shortcut back to her apartment. She didn't fear these streets like so many others did. No, this was home for her, and something that was oddly comforting in its familiarity. She could smell the stench of piss and garbage, a mixed scent that seemed almost a given in these dingy streets. She was about halfway down the alley when she got the distinct feeling someone was following her. Her bright eyes narrowed to slits but she didn't dare look back. However, though her walk remained constant as though nothing were wrong, her mind was suddenly sharp and alert.
Damien seemed to snap out of whatever trance he had been in and sent a barrage of questions through her mind. She couldn't say anything but mentally thought about him shutting up so she could concentrate. However, that lapse in time, though short, had shown physically with a skipped step and a slowing of her pace. It was enough to have that eerie presence slip closer and pull up behind her, wrapping an arm over her shoulders and bringing a hand over her mouth. "Don't you dare scream or fight. Just give me all of your money and valuables and you won't get hurt."
The voice was cracked, as though it wasn't used much, and the smell of liquor was heavy on the man's breath. Roxy, never one to be afraid and not one to give up what she worked so hard to attain, simply spoke a muffled phrase. The man tightened his grip but this only furthered Roxy's anger. What was he going do to? He obviously didn't have a weapon on him, otherwise he would have used it. No, he was just bullying her. Feeling that hot rage boiling through her veins, Roxy ignored the protests of the angel within her mind and lifted her right foot, bringing it down rapidly and with a great pressure focused on her heel. Her foot collided with the man's, crushing his toes and causing him to yelp and loosen his grip.
Roxy proceeded to pull her right arm forward, holding her right fist with her left hand and then slamming it back until it connected with the man's diaphragm. The man had no time to react, having been caught off guard by the girl's willingness to fight back. His hands held his stomach while he dubbled over, wheezing for air to fill his now empty lungs. Roxy took the chance to whirl about, facing her agressor with fire in her bright eyes. She was about to continue her attack on this man when a rather powerful pull on her mind almost physically stopped her. She felt as though someone were actually holding her back, yet she was alone with this man. It was Damien trying with all his might to stop her, knowing full well she probably couldn't keep this up, given the sheer size of the man. Surprise had afforded her an escape, but once he recovered it was likely this man would be able to take her down.
Roxy grunted, looking into the man's eyes as she slowly backed away. She didn't say anything; she didn't need to. Damien sighed in her mind as she turned about and hurried down the alley, taking a few misleading turns until she reached her apartment building. She stepped inside the door, pulling out her keys and unlocking the door. She wouldn't mention it, and Damien was smart enough not to bring it up, but for a moment she had actually been scared.
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Posted: Tue Jul 29, 2008 7:25 pm
Her legs started tingling, and she clenched and unclenched her toes. The doctor had called the feeling something like "restless leg syndrome". Luesa pulled herself into a sitting position before getting to her feet. The doctor had also said the best thing to do in her case was to walk around until the feeling subsided. She smiled to herself as she put on the robe draped over the end of her bed. Nothing like an unsupervised walk in the morning.
Carefully, she opened the door to her room and slipped her head out, looking first left, then right, then left again. No one seemed to be around, though she guessed the reason when she heard a rather loud commotion coming from the sitting room down the hall to her left. Possibly a fight, but whatever it was the nurses were no doubt occupied. Luesa opened the door a little more and slipped out, closing the door silently behind her. So, they hadn't locked her door that day...
Tip-toeing down the hall to the right, she passed by closed door after closed door until she reached the elevator. Unfortunately, all of the staircases and elevators in the ward required key cards, of course for the safety of the patients. Just as Luesa frowned, contemplating how to get downstairs, she heard the little ding of the elevator as it reached her floor. She stepped off to the side and pressed her body flush to the wall, holding in her breath as the doors slid open.
Three doctors stepped out and headed down the hall towards the commotion without even noticing her. Lucky. Before the doors closed, Luesa slipped in and silently thanked the inattentiveness of the doctors. "Nicely done..." came the familiar voice of Belial. Luesa smiled.
"I try my best." she replied, happy that he was pleased. Now inside the elevator, she looked at the panel of buttons and their labels to decide where she wanted to go. The last time she went adventuring she wound up in the OB/GYN and watched all of the healthy babies in their little "tanks". There was a time when Luesa had desperately wanted a younger brother or sister, but her parents told her no.
Another time she found her way down to the morgue and had managed to see five dead bodies before she was found. Luesa had never had a problem with death before, and one of her psychologists had told her parents that she might have a morbid fascination with it. This time however, she decided to travel down to the ICU. Down a few flights and she was there. As the doors opened, Luesa noted that here too seemed to be oddly void of the hospital staff.
Shrugging, she stepped off of the elevator and walked down the hall, peeking into any of the open doors. Everyone seemed to be sleeping, their chests rising and falling rhythmically with the sounds of beeping machines. As she continued along, she wondered how many of them were going to die. "There I go again, thinking about death." she whispered giggling.
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LadyMnemosyne Vice Captain
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Posted: Tue Jul 29, 2008 10:27 pm
He awakened slowly, and a bit woozy from all that had gone on. A slight chill ran up his spine, and he suddenly realized what had happened before he had fallen asleep. Sitting up on his bed, he pulled back the curtain, and searched about for this winged man, and breathed a sigh of relief not seeing anyone there. He swung his legs over to the side of the bed, and placed one foot on the cold tile floor of the hospital, his other foot soon to follow. He attempted to stand, and quickly fell back onto his bottom on the rather stiff bed he had been given. Apparently the weakness in his legs signified that he had been laying down for sometime which brought into his mind a good question. Exactly how long had he been out for? He reached up rubbing his face, to see he had accumulated a rough stubble, and sighed. Finally standing up, he walked a few steps only to feel a small tug followed by a sharp stinging within his hand. He quickly looked down at his hand realizing he still had his IV still placed. To weak, and groggy to care about it, he reached for his IV stand, and rolled it along with him, peeking out of his room cautiously. He was starving, and he desperately wanted to look at a newspaper to determine the date.
As quickly as he could, he stumbled forward bouncing from wall to wall, still heavily medicated with whatever drug they had given him. Whatever it was...it felt good. He placed his untethered hand against the wall for leverage, and paused momentarily to get his bearings, and looked up at a sign on a door.
"Medical Records? How the hell do I get out of this place?" he said somewhat in a slur.
Everything was so different around here from the simple free clinics he would go to on the streets. Little did he know that several men of shady stature were already in his room looking to finish the job he had failed to do on himself.
"Mark...Don't look now, but there are some men looking for you that work for the man whom took all that you've known away...run now," echoed a voice from somewhere within his head.
Of course Mark was entirely too drugged to even worry about what the voice had said, and had already found a seat in the middle of the hallway, his hospital gown somewhat revealing his upper thigh. By the time Mark would snap from his drug induced stupidity he would've probably dismissed the voice as a symptom of the drugs. Morphine was a wondrous thing.
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