Message 222 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: teredd@u... Date: Wed Sep 4, 2002 7:36 pm Subject: a_whisper *a key, a chord, on the strings of a piano, a-minor.. *to which is it wilt? *cough.. *sigh.. *from behind the nowhere in particular.. a young, quiet Italian-accented voice whispers in romany, "The moon, if it can, will shut out the light And eclipse our droll lives, turning day into night." *cough.. [ooc: quoted from John Nelson Schneider's The Whisper] [ooc: 9910120-US2002022326] Message 223 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: teredd@u... Date: Fri Sep 6, 2002 12:32 pm Subject: lost in dreams *a piano key is pressed, the middle A key.. it is pressed again and held, the tone resounding out of the static darkness.. *from behind the nowhere inparticular.. a young, quiet itallian-accented whisper, "what is it that makes you scared at night what is it in the voices of fright what is it in the days you lost what is it in the nights of frost" *flashes of a dark hallway, a cloaked figure striking the wall at increadible speeds.. the same quiet whisper, "what is it that curbs your soul what is it in the running toll what is it in the dreams you hear what is it in the screams you fear" *flashes of a noble kine fighting alone, at great black mass takes him into the shadows and you feel his link broken.. you see Marlon the Shank sitting in a car, watching as his brother is killed. the same quiet whisper, "it is the name You bring it is the same old thing You never loved them all You only loved their fall" *flashes of an asylum, several kindred standing around looking for something.. the same quiet whisper, "You think to kill them off You think they are blind enough it is not your lover it is never over" [ooc: 9910120-US2002022326] Message 224 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: teredd@u... Date: Sat Sep 14, 2002 10:17 am Subject: response to a cajun *cough.. *a piano key is pressed and held, the resounding a-flat fading away after a few short moments.. *from behind the nowhere in particular, a young, quiet, itallian-accented voice whispers, "a little for not. and dreaded diseases pour through open lips. a crown broken and hunted. the crown blames those closest to him. but does not look to its self for the answer. never the crown's fault. the crown could only have been betrayed." *somewhere in the static darkness you catch a glimpse of a cloaked figure wielding a large axe and a blank face.. [ooc: 9910120-US2002022326] Message 225 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "bogsedge" Date: Wed Sep 18, 2002 3:52 pm Subject: be strong, live long >This goodbye floats through the infinite Was, scurrying about on the eddies and fargones and whorls like a ship with eyes on the sea of madness, and if you were paying attention at the time, this is what it was like: Floating on the sea, the mirrored sea of madness, of possibility, of wonderful, sweet chaos. The old woman with swirly red eyes, standing on the prow, looking out, Cassandra, forthgoing ever, while on the shore, on the tiny shore, a golden stream looks on, and Khae, waving... An oldie song begins, lilting from yesteryear, some of you may remember... Guitars and drums and Cassandra's voice... "Woke with darkness around me Soul filled with despair Deep yearning hunger Blood calling me there Walking out in the dark night I hear a wonderful call The sweet scent of madness Laying over it all Unseen in the alleys, Gone from mind's eye Creeping deep in your nightmares, owning your mind Can I bathe in your darkness Will I dance in your mind Will you show me your horrors As I show you mine" Beautiful and bathing darkness, fog hides the shore and sounds become sweetly muffled. A low wind blows the boat away, to the East, always to the East, into the Mystery... And the song continues, with an edge of a man in chain mail... "Welcome to the Dark Side of Existence Such a lovely place Such a lovely place Twisting your soul on the Dark Side of Existence Touch your madness here No need to fear" Hints of hints of smiles and logy sleep. Everything that she's ever done, revealed only for her. It's not yours to see. The song continues... "Our minds completely twisted We dance deep in our sins We've got a lot of pretty, pretty toys Let us welcome you in Malkav's dance in the court yard Sweet blood's regret Some dance to remember Some dance to forget So I call to your darkness Your blood so sublime Malkav deepens your madness, eternity your time And still those voices will call you from far away Warp reality for you Can you hear them say" Past remembering. The boat with the blue eyes on the prow bumps up against a shore that you will dimly remember if at all, those of you who are still in the quick and thick of things. The place where some go. The old woman steps off the prow, lightly through the water and the gentle surf, and on to the shore, the gleaming black sands. And picks up a ball of onyx, the prophetic stone, and shakes it and then looks: "WELCOME HOME, CASSANDRA" A smile and a yawn. They never did believe your first prophecy, that you'd leave them. And still the song continues... "Welcome to the Dark Side of Existence Such a lovely place In Malkav's Embrace Twisting your soul on the Dark Side of Existence Touch the madness here Drink the bitter tears" And she looks at her namesake who created and cared for her all this time, sleeping on the beach, filled with the colour that is not of this world and touches her forehead and she falls away, breaking from you... And she walks into the city, the View of Bells, and turns around one last time to finish her song... "Insane ones surround you They think they are sane We know They are all just prisoner's here Caught in their own unlife And in our Father's Dreams We gather for the feast We will rip their minds free Give them to the beast Last thing to remember As you head off to war There is no way back, to what you were before Relax in your madness Life's only a dream Torments your new life, You can even scream" You forget. Unto sleep, forever. Time moves on. and somewhere else in the words, a distant corner of the Was is consumed...< courtesy of the mks 9307-076 network Reflecting Cassandra Argos Song courtesy of Cathryn Emerson, oh so long ago, her rendition of an Eagles' song ;) Good writing with you :) When it's time to move on, it's time to move on to other things. Percy Bysshe Shelley cements his convictions thus: “Where is the love, beauty and truth we seek but in the mind? ... The Home of all hearts, untouched by time and pain? Here [points to his head]. Waiting for us to grow up and recognize it and come home.” Visit the Inner Chambers at http://start.at/kindred Message 226 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: teredd@u... Date: Thu Sep 19, 2002 7:54 pm Subject: filtered screams.. *a thought flitters through with a rush of air.. but the meaning is lost inside.. *you begin to hear a faint piano being played, Danse Macabre.. *in the static darkness you see a room, the walls are broken, the furniture strange and strewn about.. Dayetha lays on the bed, unmoving.. a small cloaked figure kneels beside the bed, blood falling to the sheets from under the cloak's hood, hiding the face of the young one beneathe.. *the scene begins to break apart and change colors, like the broken glass of a kaleidascope.. *somewhere in the shadows lies a woman, wielding a large black axe in one hand and Dayetha's mirror in the other.. *Dayetha suddenly crumbles to ashes and the cloaked figure stands up, his hood falling back to reveal a blank face and blood in his eyes as he screams.. *the woman in the shadows quickly moves foward, swings the axe, taking the small figure's head off, cutting the scream inside his head.. [ooc: 9910120-US2002022326] Message 227 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: "John Reyman" Date: Thu Sep 19, 2002 9:45 pm Subject: The Beginning (ooc: A death post) ooc: as you close your eyes to sleep for the day, a sudden, and very real image pops into your head... A small building, looking barely to stand as if in defiance of Newton himself, with several small children, dressed in rags and covered in dirt, dancing and playing about. There is one boy, an outcast amongst the outcasts, who sits alone talking to no one, yet he seems quite happy in his solitude.. ***flash forwards*** The same small boy, now older, running through the streets of a city, dressed in leather and jeans, wreaking havoc with others in similar garb. They frolic, and jaunt along as if they, the unwanted, now have a purpose, meaning...then a gunshot rings out! A pool of blood fills your mind, and pain and guilt echo in the recesses. The urge to run takes over and all goes black. Suddenly you awaken, maniacal laughter stinging your ears... "AHEEE HAAA HEE HAA AHHHAHAAA HEE HEE HEE!", cries the deranged man dressed in a neon green and orange leisure suit. "wha wha wha...", you stammer. The weird skinny man dances about gleefull upon the ceiling...no wait....the floor? You suddenly feel the blood rush to your head as you realize you are hanging upside down. "So, you have the power to change the world you know", squeaks and screeches the weird man. You close your eyes and scream "LET ME GO!" He does. You fill the sudden pang of concrete striking your skull, and you roll over, screaming, whining, crying. "Ah, the gifts are his...no there not...I gave them to him, so there!...Pungledorfer!" argues the lunatic with himself. Instantly and without warning, you feel a horrible stifling sensation in your chest. You are immoblilized. You try to move, but you can't. The world continues on around you for hours...or was it days? Oh God, not weeks! And the man babbles...on and on and on and on...until you can only think of ways to silence the nonesense spewing forth from his orafice. "So, do you think you are ready?" he squaks You feel intense rage as the wooden leg of a chair is ripped from your chest, and again, all goes black. An indeterminate amount of time passes. When you awake, the stranger is on the floor, with the chair leg buried through his chest, and his limbs are all but torn off. Frightened, you drag him to a boiler room and stuff him in a metal standing cabinet, and then the urge to run begins again... ***flash sideways*** The same boy, now dressed in patchwork clothing wanders aimlessly through the nights, but you sense he is happy, merry, and looking for fun...then in a flash, fear. You are filled with the primal fear of prey that is cornered and about to be eaten. It tears at you, and you fight it, but it wins...again and again. You fill your soul ripped by its claws and fangs as it takes root in you, and try as you might to defy it, it still overtakes you. No legos can save you know...this you are painfully aware of. The Nightmare no longer lives to protect you, nor the Alien, and your friends, the Mouth, the Fang, and the Jabberwocky are no longer around and you fear they too have been beaten by the Flower Arrangement. So you run. The Poodle chases, the Fist pursues, and for every time you escape, you must run away again twice as far. The Pirates and Cap'n Doris were once your saving grace. You have seen the Moon, and partook of it's Green cheese. You even found the Playground once more. But alas, you can hide no longer. The Hotdogs are but moments away from relishing in their conquer. You feel overcome by immortal terror, and not the kind induced by legions of fleash eating Choco-muffins. ***flash backwards*** Once, hide and seek was the way to a Ventrue's heart. Now it is delaying the inevitable. The thought of eternity and spending it hiding at all costs brings you back to that warm September evening...by the river...on a doorstep...of a small building, looking barely to stand as if in defiance of Newton himself, with several small children, dressed in rags and covered in dirt, dancing and playing about. There is one boy, an outcast amongst the outcasts, who sits alone talking to no one, yet he seems quite happy in his solitude as the sun rises over the horizon, piercing between dark ominous clouds, casting down upon only the boy, who looks up with a smile as the whole scene dissolves into a prismatic explosion of atomic colors. One last thought enters your mind... "I never learned who I was...I am sorry...I just wanted to have fun..." ooc: From the mind of T.I.M. Thanks to everyone whom I entertained, and was entertained by, while playing T.I.M.! I am taking a break from playing Malkavians for a bit, but worry not, I will have one again before you realize it, and the dimentia will begin anew! ;) -------------------------------------- ooc: John Reyman DST, Dark Aria (OH-D03) 200108015 ways I could have written this post US2002021793 OOC Status: *Q* *David Hasselhoff Drop Dead Sexy Tree Humping Lemur in Speedos* *Jimminy Kuza* phidas@f... AIM: PhidasTheMighty1 Y!M: High_Court_Jester ICQ: Darth Sillious (40899338) "I am *nimble* enough to stick my head between my legs and kiss my ass goodbye." -- Johnnie Queue Message 228 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: teredd@u... Date: Tue Sep 24, 2002 7:05 pm Subject: flitter II *thoughts flitter through in no apparent direction from behind the nowhere in particular.. a young, quiet itallian-accented whisper: "blood burn whispers fealty fautly weather whether together M brings brought left gone onions like same gone become change house burn blood" [ooc: 9910120-US2002022326] Message 229 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: teredd@u... Date: Tue Sep 24, 2002 7:50 pm Subject: to be alone.. revisited *the sounds of a piano playing softly, slowly in the static background as a shadow moves accross the dark landscape.. you think about your memories from him.. *A now familiar silent figure slips out of the darkness to sit beneathe the piano, listening to the music, a few butterflies flittering about.. *cough.. *he tried to reason with them.. *he tried to help them.. what do they do? kicked him when he just fought off their enemies. cut him when he already shed blood for them. spit on him when he had done nothing but hold their name above the shit they didn't see, or didn't want to see. *they will see it, though.. *cough.. *he left them with their smug smiles and their accusations.. left them them to protect the city.. left them to see what it is like without someone to stand guard and seek out their enemies for them.. *and now they are falling.. are running from the city they thought they would control.. *he lost his family to them and what do he get in return? 50% jack and 50% shit. *he thought of the movement.. maybe what ^She^ said made some sense.. maybe what ^They^ all told him made sense.. he thought on it more.. *cough.. *he let them simmer in their own plots for a while.. *then he left and they were alone.. *the shadow fades back into the static darkness.. [ooc: 9910120-US2002022326] Message 230 of 251 | Previous | Next [ Up Thread ] From: teredd@u... Date: Wed Sep 25, 2002 4:59 pm Subject: questioning.. *a piano key is pressed.. too out of tune to correctly discern the pitch.. *thoughts of Green, standing tall.. *a vision of a room, the Hunter-Of-Souls The Betrayer stands with a bloody gun as he destroys the hearts of those who trusted him, then he thrusts the gun through Green's heart.. *another thought from behind the nowhere in particular.. a young, Italian-accented whisper, "this is what you put your faith in? that your city will be fine as long as you have the support of your "archon" or your "harpy".. do not have faith in a system that is failing, or you should fail with it.." *you hear a cry behind a mask, blood pouring through its eyes..