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 Posted: Sat Dec 04, 2010 4:01 pm
T U R N . O N E
S E T T I N G
Three seasons passed, and the demon moves again.
Once again the Church had begun to celebrate their holy religion.
While priests and bishops alike indulged in little and big rituals of worship and wine,
some loved, some danced, and everyone bowed.
It was that time of the year.
Hymns were sung, seats circling the feasts were occupied, and beer mugs clattered.
In the festive rooms, luxurious decorations hung across ceilings and draped down the countless walls,
and the grand hearth roared in the midst of it all.
But as always, some of those seats remained empty.
There they looked up to the heavens, to the dark ocean of bright, undying stars.
The moon wore a stark black veil this night, secretive yet watchful of the humans who found
themselves gathering in a quiet cemetary on the northern quarter of the town of La'To.
Frost-glazed trees bared their limbs to the sky. Tombstones stood all around them,
with names of the dead watching restlessly in their faintly lit woes.
There, something seemed to move.
There, a black-clad figure of youthful stature stood over an apparently fresh grave,
one that was free of frost and covered in rich, moist dirt.
And there, he ate something---before anyone could see it, it slipped down his throat.
Then he turned around, and that mask greeted all of them.
--------------------------------------------------
d i r e c t i o n s
1. What you post next will be the response to the TURN 1 prompt.
What you want to do is introduce your human and put them into the
scenario, and react to the situation. So basically make them exist.
2. You will have 50 minutes to write up your response.
The deadline is 7:50 p.m. EST.
3. You do not have to write a lot. Quality over quantity,
and feel free to be creative.
4. Only use size-11 black font when responding.
Good Luck!
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Posted: Sat Dec 04, 2010 4:31 pm
This wasn't exactly what she was expecting.
Then again... what could one expect? Aurore clutched her bag closer as she watched the hooded figure turn. She could hear the invitation and her notepad's paper clumple against her side, but her attention remained on the man in front of the grave. Gently brushing a strand of short, platinum-blond hair behind her ear, she pulled out her writing utenciles in case others would try and communicate.
Stomach aching from hunger and lips burning, Aurore did her best to concentrate on anything other than her own body. The spirit inside of her desired the flesh of others; an activity that Aurore didn't want to partake in. She had even sewn her own mouth shut in order to protect herself from her cravings taking over. They weren't pleasing to the eye, nor were they very comfortable, but they were necessary.
Aurore found herself here, tonight, for that very reason. She wanted this spirit out of her. She wanted to be a normal person again.
One would figure that after having made the original pact with the spirit that now controlled her hunger would have taught her that, maybe, this wasn't such a good idea. Aurore had originally wanted a voice... something that she had lost long before she could remember. Now, that promise was made useless. One could not talk with a closed mouth, right?
At this point, she figured that being mute was better than what fate had befallen her now. She no longer wanted to worry about eating some random person on the street, or possibly even someone she knew.
Shivering against the chill of the air, Aurore began to regret her clothing choice. She was not one to go out without dressing for the occasion, having put on one of her favorite outfits; her wine-colored party dress and heals. Not exactly the warmest of outfits... but maybe it would catch the attention of a guest or, preferably, a demon.
With the tension growing, Aurore could only wonder what was going to happen at this point. Hopefully the demons could read...
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Posted: Sat Dec 04, 2010 4:36 pm
Amiel Grey stood with his hands shoved in his pockets. There was a piece of lint and a few coins, and he played with the textured surface while thinking. His eyes wandered up, to the sky, and absentmindedly he scuffed the sole of his shoe against the graveyard dirt. Graveyard dirt: used for luck, for death, for many charms and spells. Supposedly. His thoughts wandered back to the constellations. He tried to identify them, seek solace in fact, but instead he could only think of dark hair and the smell of vanilla. Was it vanilla? Amiel's eyes half narrowed as he tried to unravel the scent in his memories. It was slipping away, at last, but he was in the cemetary not to forget, but to use that pain for his own means. To hold onto it and make it tangible, a weapon to wield against others. He wanted to walk through memories as though they were empty halls, to feel no remorse or grief for the past. And in the future, he wanted to be able to turn the tide of his own will.
He exhaled, watching his breath fade up into the night. He was not alone in the cemetary. What did all of these others want? Was it heaven or hell they desired most? Amiel mulled over the idea to himself, appearing over-confident in himself at that moment. Without moving more than what was required of him, he tilted his face and regarded the others. There was some female in a dress, a red one? He couldn't really make the colour out, but he had never been good with shades. Amiel felt unmoved. He looked past her without a second thought, not noticing the stitches. No one of note, perhaps, or Amiel was simply conditioned to looking once and looking quickly so that he didn't remember too much. Amiel's memory was disgustingly persistent, and it was those memories of what he had lost that lingered on the foreground. Amiel would never experience loss like that again, if he had a say. He extracted one of his hands from inside his pocket, the right hand which had no glove, and brushed the lint bits off his fingertips, before rubbing his thumb across the bridge of his nose out of habit. He wished he had worn a scarf, as the air was chilliest there and on his face. His nose was growing numb. and he tried to warm it casually.
Amiel could have said something. He could have said any number of things, but when he opened his mouth to breathe in and out again evenly, he decided that nothing was so desirable as silence at that moment. He looked a little like a shade, himself, though it was partly due to the cold. His coat was worn at the sleeves, their ends frayed, and it was some sign that although he kept himself well-dressed and neat, Amiel had other things to think about. He had other sides to him. In the cemetary, he was a little out of his element. True, he loved the written word, and some had compared his study to a graveyard, but... that was hardly the truth. Amiel saw warmth and light in fiction, where someone might see only dry pages. But then again, Amiel was one for quiet passions. When someone interrupted his silence, he was always a little stunned and amused, like he was watching a lily grow up from his floorboards. Unexpected treasures.
His face twisted into a grimace and he shoved his hand back into his pocket. Lillies were not things to be trusted. Flowers, in fact, were useless. You couldn't eat a flower. You could barely keep a flower alive, if it was willing. You couldn't--
Amiel saw movement. He wrinkled his freezing nose and focused all his attention on the figure in black. He seemed to be... was he consuming something? Amiel Grey's thoughts, without his bidding, spiralled off into several directions at once. To food, hunger, the fresh grave earth, plants that would wither and die in the cold, the ivy on the walls back home, the peeling wallpaper-- Amiel cleared his throat. The individual, whatever it was, wore a mask. Had Amiel expected that?.. He searched his memory for how he had gotten there, but the single-minded purpose with which he had come obscured all previous engagements for the time being. What mattered to Amiel was that he was in the right place, at the right time, and... He wanted something. He wanted a lot of something, and he would sacrifice an equally large amount to get it.
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Posted: Sat Dec 04, 2010 4:42 pm
It had all started with a rumor.
"They say something will happen at the graveyard tonight," one had whispered.
"And when does what they say matter?" the other sneered.
The whisperer stopped, and stared directly at the dissident.
"It matters," they said, voice hushed, "Because the impossible will come true."
***
Tam stuffed her hands into her coat pockets as she stared at the starry sky, breath turning into mist before her face. Stupid. This was stupid. And yet she still had come. Usually she disregarded rumors, but for some reason, these rumors felt as if they had a kernel of truth. Well, enough truth to use as an excuse to sneak into a graveyard at night. Hell, why wouldn't she use this chance to make her parents freak? And if that last bit of the rumor was actually true.... well, she would deal with that when it came around.
Blowing a chunk of of roughly chopped red hair off her face, the 17 year old regarded her surroundings with brown eyes. A graveyard. On a dark, cold, windy night. How original. Then again, she couldn't complain - she had been the one to follow the rumors in the first place. Out of boredom (and some nerves) Tam pulled out a tiny little metal pocket puzzle out of her pants pocket and began to fiddle with it. Hours of entertainment the advertisement had claimed - sure, if you didn't mind doing to the same thing over and over again once you had solved it. She methodically began going through the steps of the puzzle, knowing how to solve it by heart but still finding a useful way to relieve her stress. When the puzzle was solved she stuffed it back into her pocket, looking at her surroundings again - and froze.
She wasn't alone. A dark figure in front of the grave, it eating something, it turning around to regard her (and others, crap, when had other people arrived?) from behind a mask.
Could the rumors really have been true? Was there really going to be demons present? Demons, that they said, could grant anything she desired?
Quite suddenly Tam felt even colder than the air surrounding her. She was in way over her head.
And there was no turning back.
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Posted: Sat Dec 04, 2010 4:46 pm
Long before the party would end and shortly after it started, Dante had sneaked out. Admist all of the celebration, no one took heed of the male passing through the hallways. It was a simple matter to sneak down the stairs, and approach the basement door. He opened it silently, and closed it as he had come. It was there that he unlocked the window, and slipped out the window. His foot landed upon the soft soil of the church backyard. Dante closed the window with practiced expertise, displaying that he was used to not being where he should be and going where he shouldn’t.
He simply didn’t feel comfortable with such a party. And that he didn’t want to deal with the drunk old men, the self-righteous waves who would preach, and the daughters who would be flirting left and right. He shoved his hands within his coat, wrapping his scarf tightly around himself. He rubbed his gloveless hands together, breathing into the cold fingers to warm them up. He walked along the nearly empty but snow laden sidewalk. He found himself at the entrance of their town’s cemetery, standing before the ominous area. “It’s been a long time.” He told nobody in particular. How long had it been? Years since he had come to the cemetery.
There were several entrances to the cemetery. Dante pushed at the gate on his side, and found it locked. The gate didn’t budge. Dante could have easily found another entrance. But as his gray eyes examined the gate with thoughtful contemplation, Dante had to admit that it would take far too much time, and that he wasn’t in the mood for that. He took off his coat, discarding the article beside the gate. His scarf also came off as well, leaving the boy in a black long-sleeved turtleneck shirt and pants. He began to scale the fence, using the gate as a foothold. In a few moments, he had reached the top of the tall gate. From there, he reached for one of the branches of the trees that stood within the graveyard.
His foot had merely stepped onto a large branch when it made contact with a slipper patch of frost that had yet to melt. For all of Dante’s dexterity, he fell four feet from the branch, causing whatever leaves the tree had yet to die to rustle as he landed on his a** to the cold frosted ground of the cemetery.
“Ow, ow, ouuuch.” His hand tousled his brown locks, his silver eye wincing in pain. His recovering vision spotted four shadows, a sihouette of each person. “Haha. Whoops. Did I interrupt something?” He held up an apologetic hand, not having expected anyone else to be there. But there were already three figures within the cemetery. He hated to be interrupting something, a tryst perhaps? But the people there didn’t seem to be particularly involved with each other.
Dante stood up and dusted himself off. ”A mask?" What caught his eye first was the hooded figure. Would there be a sensible reason for somebody to wear a mask? "I didn’t expect that. Are you cold?” And then he surveyed the others, tilting his head as he did so. He had no knowledge of these people, nor of what they were here for. Coincidence? he asked himself.
To sum it up, he hadn’t come with the same purpose as the others. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He had come without knowing anything, purely here by a mixture of luck and chance.
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Posted: Sat Dec 04, 2010 4:49 pm
A thin silhouette hurried through the streets, the labyrinthine coils that led inwards as though some supernatural gravity had a hold of his heart – his weak fluttering heart – and was yanking him forcibly in the direction of the graveyard. Tonight was the night on which he would attempt to bargain with a demon, a dark creature from the 'other side', in an attempt to get what he desired; something he needed more than anything else in the world... And yet to look at him one wouldn't have guessed that a young man, fairly handsome (despite being a little on the scrawny side), would be so desperate to commune with creatures born of darkness. He seemed happy enough – at the very least a smile shimmered on his face – and he was in clothes that suggested he wasn't exactly lacking in money either... Never the less, he had his reasons held close to his chest and as he approached the entrance to the graveyard he strolled in as though it was a casual meeting.
“Hello all.” He nodded at his fellow men and women – his competition. They were a bit of a rag tag bunch with all walks of life viewable within the pale faces. Old, young, all were here for the same person. This youthful figure positioned in front of them, like a warped minister of a church service in his billowing cassock He had a mask on right now and standing on top of the fresh grave certainly gave the whole situation a pungent macabre feeling. “Nice setting...” Marc's lips twisted into a wry mocking smile. As if meeting demons on a night so dark that it was resounding with evil wasn't enough; they had to meet in a creepy graveyard too? Was their even such thing as overkill in the world of black magic?
“Who was this guy then?” He nudged closer to the boy – showing now obvious fear. There seemed to be little point in baulking away from him. Sure, the demons probably demanded some respect when they showed themselves... But this guy was more human than them. Two arms, two legs and ideally some form of humour. That's all Marc asked for and since two out of the three had already proved to be given to him was it really too much to ask for the third and final one to be also present. “Did you know him?” His grin was wicked. Show no fear. But the boys mask was on closer inspection eerily blank, not just lacking in marking but somehow.. Cold, even otherworldly. His smile dimmed and then an awkward laugh coughed from his throat as he took a step back, next to a pretty young girl in a red dress... Maybe it was best to give him a little bit of room.
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Posted: Sat Dec 04, 2010 4:51 pm
Turn 1 is over. Turn 2 will begin in 10 minutes.
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Posted: Sat Dec 04, 2010 5:02 pm
T U R N . T W O
A R R I V A L
The demon simply stood there, still as a tombstone.
In the open graveyard, a gust of chill broke in---
picking up specks of frost and black, damp earth.
Two shades appeared behind the small crowd ever so softly, and so silently.
--------------------------------------------------
d i r e c t i o n s
1. What you post next will be the response to the TURN 2 prompt.
The post should contain the character's reaction to the situation.
2. You will have 30 minutes to write up your response.
The deadline is 8:30 p.m. EST.
3. You do not have to write a lot. Quality over quantity,
and feel free to be creative.
4. Only use size-11 black font when responding.
Good Luck!
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Posted: Sat Dec 04, 2010 5:19 pm
There were a lot of people there, now, too many for Amiel's tastes. He couldn't bring himself to be concerned with it, except for when one of them seemed to stumble into their gathering without knowing what it was for. How had he even... Amiel shot him a disgusted look, but said nothing. Amiel was not always so surly. Very nearly so, since he had lost that which he cared for most, but not this profoundly. No matter, in Amiel's opinion. It simply meant his people skills were a little rough around the edges. And his sense of humour had suffered considerably. Perhaps a sense of humour would have allowed him a kinder smile for the man who had wandered in and then broken the silence, and again for the seemingly ill young man who followed shortly after. Perhaps he wasn't ill... he just seemed so thin. Must you chatter? A voice in Amiel's thoughts hissed at the newcomers who insisted on speaking. Lately his internal monologue had been even unfriendlier than Amiel himself, which was a feat. He was certainly not charming... Something he hoped to fix. He could learn. Amiel was confident in the power of information. His love of knowledge was what had brought him here, after all, figuratively speaking.
Aside from that particular quirk, Amiel also had no luck. Ever. So instead of expecting fortune to favour him, Amiel merely prepared as best he could for any situation. Should the cemetary turn out to be more than he could handle, Amiel had all kinds of baubles and charms in his left pocket. Things to fend off spirits, demons, unholy abominations-- he suspected they were all nothing more than toys, bits of metal and useless scraps of glass. In any case, Amiel could feel the chill suddenly, and knew that they would be no help. He felt exposed and unprepared. Because of the way he'd become positioned, away from the boy with the mask, when Amiel turned around to find the source of the chilly gust he found himself closer to the shades than he would have expected. His eyes widened, lips pressed together. It wasn't his left hand that reacted, but his right, slipping into his pocket to grasp a coin. He removed his hand from his pocket and began to play with the coin across his knuckles, like he had when he was a boy.
The shades were beyond anything Amiel could have grasped. He wished to reach out both hands and touch the shades, to feel for better or worse what power there was. He would let them consume his heart, without hesitation. Perhaps some small hesitation?... Amiel searched himself. He must be at least a little hesitant. He couldn't have-- and again, the scent of vanilla. Instead of reminding him of his delicate humanity, it steeled his resolve. Amiel would sacrifice anything to these shades, in order to rid himself of those memories and... well. Amiel pushed it to the back of his mind as he stepped towards them, ever silent. He should call out to them. He should. But he wanted to offer them so much more than an obligatory greeting.
Amiel reached his free hand up to his chest, his gloved hand, and undid the buttons of his jacket, letting the gust sweep across his shirt and chill him. He stared into the shades, one and then the other. It was his offering, without words: to stand there, unmoving, playing with the coin across his knuckles. He was willing them to do what they would; he wanted to know... he wanted to act. But Amiel was always better at biding than acting. Waiting. His hearing seemed to have suffered: his breathing was the most important sound to him at the moment, and the others, whatever they were doing or saying, were outside of his world. There was a membrane of silence and shadow separating Amiel Grey's focus from the rest of the world, and all that was in it at that moment were those two shades, and his own body. Not even the ground, nor the sky. Amiel's attention, for the first time in as long as he could remember, was undivided.
Until the scent of vanilla bubbled to the surface again.
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Posted: Sat Dec 04, 2010 5:20 pm
Before the girl could react to the man who now took place beside her, or any of the other people present, the cold, harsh gust of wind hit hard, chilling her to the bone. It was almost as if ice had taken the form of wind...
The first time, she had been alone. She hadn't told a soul, not even any of her family. Doing this with other people... other, desperate people... it was foreign to her. Their company didn't help the scared, heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach. It didn't help the nervousness rising in her throat. The spirit inside of her, on the other hand, seemed delighted, almost excited for what was coming. Did it know that there was no way to get rid of it? Or did it think that it was gaining a companion?
The hair on the back of Aurore's neck stood, as if there had suddenly been a great deal of static in the surrounding area. The wind had gone, but the air remained like ice as it only seemed to grow colder and colder. Even though there was now a body so close to her, not even an arm's length away, there was no heat radiating between anyone. Only cold, stagnate air.
Inside of Aurore's being, she could feel the spirit tugging at the back of her head. Fear held her tight as she nearly refused to turn around and face what had taken place behind her. Her hand shakily began to scribble on the sheet of paper that she held close. Her arms were shaking from the cold, covered in goose-bumps in a mixture of harsh temperature and raging emotions.
"I need help."
Despite the conditions, the writing was neat, despite being rushed.
Closing her eyes, Aurore turned, clutching tightly at the paper. She was nearly too scared to even take a look at what could have been there, though she knew that if one was to make a pact with her, she would have to see them every day.
Her shivers subsiding, she opened one of her vibrant blue eyes as her mouth tugged uncomfortably at the home-sewn stitches. Before her, a blue-ish gray and a burnt-orange demon hovered slightly off the ground. The orange one immediately caught her eye against the dark and cold colors of the cemetary. It almost looked like an evil flame, while the other looked like a small, hooded figure.
She did not care which one she attracted so long as she got help.
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Posted: Sat Dec 04, 2010 5:21 pm
Four other people and the masked individual. One of the other people looked just as clueless as she felt. The other three....
Intensity. Purpose. Need.
Tam shivered. Once again, she felt horrendously stupid - not because she felt this was a pointless errand, but because the rumors had been true. She hadn't necessarily seen any demons yet (well.... they was no really way to tell with the masked individual), but her gut told her otherwise. Stupidity. Right now she felt she could write a book about it. Stuffing her hand back into her pant pocket she once again began to fiddle with her pocket puzzle, but this time she didn't take it out of her pocket. She wasn't really focusing on solving it this time - mainly just needed to keep herself occupied in some way. Something about keeping herself from running away screaming.
They had said something about desires. Granting your greatest wish. What did she really want? She didn't have anything she could think of. And yet something began to worm into her head - something she had always wanted, but had always dismissed as an impossible dream. But with the help of a demon, it might actually be possible.... Could her dream really be able to come true?
Then the breeze picked up, blasting cold, and the overly strong scent of winter and wet earth was filling her nostrils. Really really strong scent. And it that moment, there was no longer any doubt. She saw the shades. There was going to be demons.
Oh s**t.
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Posted: Sat Dec 04, 2010 5:23 pm
No response from the boy... But something was happening. Marc wanted to say that there was some signal of the shade's arrival. A cold tingle perhaps, the sighing of fallen souls as they materialised... Even some dark incantation from the boy. It would have been theatrical, yes, and he had just been mocking the over the top gothic nature of this situation, but that was what was to be expected and thus he could cope. The silence, the unassuming assured presence of the ethereal beings was unsettling. That being said, when the first murmur of people recognising the shades reached his ears he swivelled to look at them full on; untangle the strings and puppetry that could be animating them. This had to be the real deal or else his time would be wasted. He wasn't just about to open his life out on a plate for some phony smoke and mirrors gag.
The shade closest to him was the shorter less shapely one. A browny colouration it stood (was it standing?) silently on the ground without causing a stir. Marc shivered. “Hello there...” He summoned a smile to his face and strode forwards, how were you meant to greet a being that wasn't strictly meant to exist? In the only way Marc could think of off the top of his adrenaline fuelled brain. “Nice to meet you I guess.” He stuck a hand out, if the shade could manifest a hand, he could shake it. If not, it was a polite gesture none the less.
He glanced around to gauge what the others were doing. Was this too forward? Heck... What did he know about speaking to demons!? It was almost laughable, him standing here, half craning over to give his hand to a blob of something that could be described as an evil presence by some – mere near fictional ectoplasm by others. Standing straight again he crossed his arms and shuffled back as if to give the others a chance to make their greetings to the russet shade. The other shade, the grey wisp that held a seemingly more solid form than it's companion, also required just as much respect as it's partner and inching around the first Marc introduced himself to the being.
“I'm Marc... A pleasure to meet you too.”
Were you meant to make small talk or something with them?!
His heart was beating at a rapid pace but underneath the winter layers he could hide his nerves. He could make his expressions a mask just as hard to read as the medium's concealing face mask. He didn't want his human company to know what he wanted... That was just for him and potentially the demons to know....
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Posted: Sat Dec 04, 2010 5:24 pm
Behind one of the tall, statuesque tombstones depicting a crying angle laying on her side, hands cupped as if in prayer--vulnerable and naked save for her wings and her long robes, the angel's long hair falling to her waist and across her front--relaxed a hooded female biding her time.
The bitter cold did little to affect her disposition, which held a smug grin. Bright blue hair spilled out from her hood, a teal ribbon resting comfortable on the exposed top of her chest. Black overalls covered the rest of her tan body, hands tucked into the pockets. All around the cemetery humans converged and memories came flowing back to when her first contract was was agreed upon within the clock tower.
That, too, was hosted by the masked and cloaked demon here.
Her vibrant purple eyes peered around the corner of the statue to greet the newcomers. As always, there seemed to be a meager amount of females, but that suited her fine--the ones present were some of the most curious ones she had spotted yet. This wasn't to say her opinion of the males was low, but they seemed to be a dime a dozen in regards to these Nights and even her own kind.
On cue, even without a cue, two shades slithered into view and her grin grew, revealing dangerously pointed teeth. Kael's eyes narrowed, sclera becoming clouded with a thick black as her demonic traits became visible. This would be interesting: the first time she would get to see one of these events with an outside eye. Deep in her core, she wanted to reach out to these young ones and she would be very critical of the humans who form contracts with these two, a keen eye placed upon them whether they knew it or not.
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Posted: Sat Dec 04, 2010 5:26 pm
The stranger didn‘t answer to Dante‘s question. But Dante wasn‘t concerned with that.. when he felt the presence of something else behind them. The cold wind had alerted him first, raising the hair on the end of his neck. His hand covered the back of his neck as an immediate reflex.. and then he turned around, in order to see the direction of the wind and where it had come form, his eye had caught sight of the two abnormalities. One hand on his hip, he tilted his head backwards to view the shades with a interested gleam in his silver eyes. “It appears that I’ve stumbled onto something interesting.” Dante observed, a bold smile upon his face.
Only a few hours before, Dante had believed tonight to be boring and mundane. Even upon meeting these other strangers, Dante hadn’t believed that they held any real value to him. Although rumors circulated in the darker recesses of the village, Dante hadn’t chosen to believe in them. Dreams. Wishes. Events that proved impossible. They were granted .. for a price. Part of it was due to his slightly cynical nature. But the large reason was that he didn’t believe in things unless he could see and judge it with his own eyes. Apparently, this wasn’t so. “This won’t be as boring then.” The adult male’s interest had been piqued, his normally carefree silver eyes filled with something other then it’s customary expression. Was he excited by the prospect? A rush of anticipation flooded his being, although Dante contained it in a cool mannerism.
“Can you satisfy me?” He inquired, not of the other contestants but perhaps of the hooded figure and the shades themselves.
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Posted: Sat Dec 04, 2010 5:33 pm
Turn 2 is over. Turn 3 will begin in 30 minutes.
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