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ScarletFrost Vice Captain
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 Posted: Fri Jul 17, 2009 4:19 pm
This RP requires some litteracy and wordsmithing. No **actions in stars** please!
My character is Maddie (Madalyn DeMuir) and she's a Storyteller. (Duh, right?) Storytellers have access to the Cosmic Story and can tweek it this way or that by telling a story. They can be pretty powerful people (make stocks go up or down, choose the outcome of a war, sway public opinion, etc) but they're also rare and hunted people, for obvious reasons. So they ban together to try to keep some peace and order in the world.
Oh, and the crazy old man can be used by anyone, so long as he stays in character. ^_^
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“You are a Storyteller.”
Maddie looked up at the middle-aged man in front of her. Instantly suspicious of his motives for talking to her, she politely replied, “I only write for my personal enjoyment.” She carefully closed her journal, tucked away her favourite pen, and gathered up her books to go.
“The likes of your talent has not been scene since the reign of Queen Scheherazade,” the man continued urgently. “I need you to come with me.”
“No thank you,” Maddie continued and lied pleasantly, “I’m late for my next class as it is.”
She picked up her books and purse. The man put himself directly in her way. Maddie sized him up. He was at least 6 feet tall, lean, and well groomed. His black hair was graying at the temples, his eyes sparkling blue. His clothes looked stylish, but had a strange flair like something straight out of Les Miserables. It must have been the cuff-links and the silk cravat, she decided.
“Please excuse me,” she said when it became apparent he wouldn’t move.
“As you walk out that door, it will thunder overhead,” he said in a soft, melodic voice. “Rain will start to poor from the sky and the wind will start howling. You will chalk it up to a summer squall, but wonder if it might be best to wait for it to let up before you venture forth. When you realize the nature of the storm, you will have many questions, and when you turn around, I will be gone. Instead you will meet a more amiable ambassador who has the patience to deal with you. When you decide to come with me, I’ll be just around the corner.”
With his speech so eloquently delivered, he stepped to the side to let her past. Maddie felt a chill down her spine and it was all she could do not to run to the library door. But no sooner had her fingers touched the handle than thunder boomed overhead. Rain sheeted down from the sky, so heavy she could barely see across the street.
Summer storm, Maddie told herself. Should probably wait a few…hold on! she turned around furiously searching for the strange old man. He was gone. If some ambassador shows up, I might scream.
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Posted: Mon Jul 20, 2009 10:57 am
Okay... I'll bit and try some of this. Please don't beat me with a literacy stick or an English club as I'm not the best at technicalities of the language. Hey I'm an engineer with a doctor's handwriting okay and enough knowledge to only be dangerous but never a master. My character is going to be Nigel Ted Pelshade, or as he'll tell ya Niteshade.
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Nigel shifted his shoulders and made sure his trench coat was wrapped around him securely. The downpour that had erupted suddenly would be quick to soak to the bone if you weren’t covered properly. Then the wind started up sounding like a pack of wolves on the hunt. Its power yanked at his coat as if trying to rip it off him. He looked around to see if he could find anyplace to get out of the rain at, when he saw a light from the library's open door. As he moved towards it, the door shut as the person who was just coming out turned around and apparently decided against going outside.
His mind ambled around grasping at threads of memory as this scene seemed very familiar to him. Then he remembered the crazy old man from the park...
He had been out sitting amongst the trees and trying in vain to meditate once again, when he was suddenly there. He seemed well groomed to be in such an outdoors location. The silk cravat around the man's neck made Nigel laugh a little to himself as who really wore such things now-a-days. All it did was remind him of Freddie Jones from the Scooby Doo cartoons and his ascot he always wore. The man's blue eyes had that affect to pull you in and make you want to listen to him, so he waited to see what he would say.
"You are a storyteller. Not the most skilled, but a storyteller none-the-less.", said the gentleman.
Looking up Nigel ran his hand through his black hair and simply replied, "Yeah and add a buck to it and you can buy some coffee. Does this look like Hollywood to you, Freddie? If you don't mind, I'm trying to enjoy some peace and quiet with nature."
This person had startled him a bit, and Nigel was always a bit snippy when surprised. The guy seemed about his size, which was little over six feet tall. Where Nigel had a goatee that was a week or so beyond needing a trim, this guy was very well groomed at had nothing out of place. As he thought about it, the guy hadn't seemed to make any noise as he approached and he just seemed to be there with his radiating presence. Reaching down, Nigel started to closed his journal and tuck it away inside his trench coat when he heard the gentleman's voice as his eyes looked downwards, "We you look up I will be gone, but when you go to leave this park later you will decide to take the long way home to enjoy the feeling in the air. After a while, it will thunder loudly overhead and rain will pour from the sky. The wind will pick up and begin howling. You will think about shelter, and try to find someplace to get out of the storm. The light from a doorway will lead you onward, but you will suddenly feel deja-vu. You'll have many questions about what's happening, but not any answers. Inside you'll find someone with more patience than I, to help you. Then when you are ready, you will find me around the corner."
Nigel snorted, and turned his eyes back up to find the man gone. Just gone. The gentleman's voice hadn't even receded as he back away, because that was the only rational explanation. It's not like he could just disappear into thin air. Shrugging it off, Nigel looked at his journal and there was a rudimentary eye drawn on the page. When had he drawn that, as he didn't remember seeing it earlier when he had tried his last attempt at meditative drawing. However, it was one of the better drawings he'd done this way so he made a quick note on the page and flipped it to the next one. Popping his neck, he decided to forget the old man and try to resume his study. He picked up a cup and drank some more of the herbal tea, then retrieved his favorite black pencil and closed his eyes to begin again.
Coming back to the present, Nigel stepped up to the door and opened it to get out of the rain. As he stepped into the doorway he almost ran into someone standing there.
"Oh, excuse me," he says as he stopped suddenly some water flying off his coat onto the individual.
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ScarletFrost Vice Captain
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Posted: Mon Jul 20, 2009 3:07 pm
Ohh! I love it! See what you can do with this addition (I'm terrible at english accents I know. Just think of Rustle Brand when he talks. razz ):
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Maddie took a step back as cold raindrops splattered her face. “That’s alright,” she said as she wiped her face.
“So then, we’re all ‘ere, are we?” came a brisk London accent from the corner. Maddie and the wet stranger whirled around in unison to look at the strange man standing there. She knew this man was in cahoots with the crazy old man because this character, although significantly younger, also had the air of a fashion throwback. While he sported the popular baggy jeans and sneakers of this era, his pinstripe vest and English cabby cap were straight out of the industrial revolution. He also had chains draped from pocket to pocket, and Maddie was sure they weren’t all connected to watches or wallets.
“Who are you?” she demanded. She sounded flustered, even to her ears, and blamed it on the swift barometric pressure changes of a summer storm.
“Right to business, then,” he said. Sweeping his cap of his bright blond hair, he bowed deeply, but somehow without the usual respect one would except from the courtly gesture. “Call me Ishmael. And you would be?”
“I don’t give my name to stalkers,” Maddie snapped.
“You’ve ‘ad much experience with stalkers then?” Ishmael returned quickly.
“None of your business,” she grumbled, but Ishmael looked so impishly innocent, she didn’t see the harm in giving him her first name. “Maddie.”
“Mad by name, and mad by nature, I suspect, wot wiv all that red ‘air on your ‘ead,” he teased.
“My hair is NOT red—it’s auburn.” Maddie emphatically informed him. “And you’re not winning any brownie points here.”
“Ah, but brownies ain’t the goal, Miz Madalyn DeMuir,” Ishmael corrected her with a lewd waggle of his eyebrows. “The goal is to get you and your gentleman friend there to accept who and what you are, so that the poor Captain can get you squared away and safe.”
“Safe from what?” Maddie ventured.
“Everyone,” Ishmael said, the playful light in his eyes dimming solemnly. “You two are a pair of StoryTellers. One wiv enough sheer talent to make all the crowned ‘eads of Europe dance a jig off the Cliffs of Dover, and the other wiv enough raw power to keep them crowned ‘eads dancing top the waves all the way to Normandy and back.”
This sounded too fantastic to be true. Power or no power, the most real danger was from these strange men popping up wanting to whisk her away. First the old man, then Ishmael, and apparently the stranger in the overcoat was now apart of this. She didn’t trust it one bit. “Shelve the power trip, just answer this: why are you coming after us now?”
“You both ‘ave done a bang up job of hiding your powers,” Ishmael said. “I’d guess you both have been writing down every stray idea that pops in your ‘eads for the last few years, storin’ up journals and diaries under your beds like some loony librarian.”
Maddie glanced at the trechcoat stranger nervously. Ishmael was right.
He continued, “Tis one good thing to come of your willie-nillie scribbling: it drained your powers to prevent any explosive manifestations and therefore any unwanted attention from them that would do you ‘arm. But the flip side is that them journals of yours are now dangerous stores of your abilities and need to be collected right away. So I’m ‘ere to ‘elp you gather up your bits and get you round the jolly corner to the Captain.”
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Posted: Fri Jul 24, 2009 11:39 am
I'll do my best... I hate it when I write something and go back over it and it just seems wrong to me. Guess I spend too much time trying to get the right ‘feel’ of things. Anyways, here is what I finally came up with after 3 or 4 attempts. So let's see what we can learn from the 'british theater rejects'... *eg*
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Nigel got ready to say something, when the other strange man showed up. I mean his accent and his sense of fashion just screamed to Nigel that him and the old man from earlier were definitely together.
"Inside you'll find someone with more patience than I, to help you" echoes back in his mind as he remembers what the old man had said. He came back to the conversation to here the new guy give his name... Ishmael!
You've got to be kidding me, Nigel thinks to himself, "Why are these British Theater rejects popping up out of the woodwork suddenly? Wait a second... am I being punked?!?!?"
Nigel listens as the conversation between Ishmael and Maddie continued. When her full name was said, Nigel thought, "sounds Gaelic, Irish or somewhere over the pond. I bet she's part of this to help lure me in. I bet she's working with them, and acting like she's as off guard about it all as I am." He unconsciously ran his hand through his hair, smoothing it back and also getting some of the water off. The black glistened in the fluorescent light there, and the hints of purple at the tips were almost not perceptible in the conditions here. His green shirt peeked out from underneath his coat as he moved as did the earthen brown of his pants. For those with the clues his name was reflected in his appearance and choice of attire.
As Maddie looked over to Nigel while Ishmael told them about themselves, Nigel though she was a really good actress as she really had quick suggestion of nervousness and possible fear in her body language. However, it was quickly gone so he couldn't be truly sure whether it was for show or real. And how did this Ishmael know about the journals Nigel had stashed at his place, or that he did write things quite often whether it was a simply poetry verse, song lyric, or a complete scene of something. It was like he just had to get them out of his head or it would eventually explode.
The only logical explanation to him was that it was some kind of joke or stunt and that someone close to him was helping them. How else would they know details about his life and activities without having someone on the inside who could fed it all to them? The whole 'you have a hidden power and must come with us' idea was way to cliché and movie-like to be real, and the whole way these people dressed was too much. Either they were actors, eccentric, loons, or all three. He looked at Maddie and said, "I'm Niteshade by the way, though I suppose they told you that."
Ishmael melted the serious look away saying, "Why mizta Nigel Ted Pelshade, you don't look like a beautiful lady but I won't betray you. Care to dance a jig, or drink a pint?"
The twinkle in his eyes gave let Nigel know he chose those words purposefully. Well those comments clenched it. Who would know his full name since he hasn't used it in years, or know that he abhorred alcoholic beverages due to a genetic trait. So Nigel's assumption had to be right, he smiled while looking all around and saying, "I got you figured out o' troupish ones. I'm being punked, or on scare tactics right? I'm not signing any waiver so you can cut the theatrics out already... the rain was a nice touch I must admit, but this whole power hidden within thing is much too cliché."
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ScarletFrost Vice Captain
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Posted: Fri Jul 24, 2009 4:20 pm
Maddie wondered if Niteshade could be right and this whole thing a terrible hoax. At least he didn't seem to have a roll beyond victim, same as her. But did she catch an accusing twinkle in his eye? Could he think she had something to do with Ishmael? It didn't matter. She had to get out.
“I'm with Niteshade,” she said. “It was nice meeting you, Ishmael, but I am a bit too practical to get sucked into this thing. You did have me going for a moment,” she added, giving the devil his due. “But I really need to be going.” She rushed for the door, reaching for the push bar, frantic to get away.
“The door is locked!” Ishmael said before she could leave. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the deadbolt clicked over. Maddie’s desperate momentum slammed her into the door. It rattled a bit, but it was definitely not going to open. She groped for the latch, but it was the sort that needed a key from both sides.
Maddie whilred around and glared at Ishmael. “How did you do that?” she demanded.
“I’m a Storyteller like you,” he said proudly. “I’m not nearly as talented or powerful, but I do ‘ave enough snap to keep a couple of novices like you two runnin’ in circles ‘til you see reason.”
“There is no reason,” Maddie hissed at him. “We’re not playing this stupid game.” She included Niteshade in her claim because she could see he was as bewildered and suspicious as she was. Besides, two against one were better odds.
Ishmael held up his hands in a peace making gesture. “I understand you don’t believe me. You’re all grown up. You know everything. You’ve discovered for yourselves that fairytales ain’t true." He sounded reasonable and sarcastic at the same time. "Magical fairy godmothers and the like, coming to save you from your boring, mediocre routines, stuff like that never ‘appens in real life.”
“Stop patronizing me,” Maddie almost screamed.
Ishmael got suddenly serious again. “Then I dare you both to prove me wrong. Tell a story. Any story that can ‘appen right now. Tell it like a narrator on one of those documentary films. See what ‘appens!”
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Posted: Fri Jul 24, 2009 6:11 pm
As the situation deepened, it started up again... one of those type of aching throbs in your skull that makes you want to slam your head against the wall. It was faint but picking up steam quickly it seemed. After the door locked itself at Ishmael's apparent direction it was almost fully upon him. Nigel thought it was weird as he hadn't had one in a while, and always chalked it up to sinus pressure from allergies. Maybe he was allergic to Ishmael's brand of crazy.
Nigel didn't really believe what he said, but the throbbing made him not care much and his normal easy-going nature dissolved to the pain. For some reason it just slipped out of his mouth before he realized it in a sort of disconnected and neutral tone, "The storm reached its zenith and its final act of defiance was to strike the library with a parting bolt. The loud crash dissolved into nothingness for all present as they lost their hearing for a moment. When their sense comes back water drips down soaking the vest and cap of one present. When the lady sees this, a look of fear crosses her delicate features as she turns to look at the tall trench coated gent who had predicted the events... he is sitting against the wall where he fell after losing his balance from the piece of debris hitting his head. He smiles and shrugs as he stands and brushes the broken glass off his jacket that had protected the others present."
Nigel blinked as he came back as if out of a trance, when suddenly the storm seemed to pick up outside and then a deafening clamp of thunder and lightning hit the roof of the library...
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ScarletFrost Vice Captain
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Posted: Fri Jul 24, 2009 7:30 pm
Maddie's neck prickled as Niteshade delivered his story. Dread filled her heart. The crack of lightening hitting the library numbed her senses. She was slammed against the wall and something earthy and spicy smelling covered her face.
Maddie realized that somehow, Niteshade had pushed her and Ishmael against the wall, and then used his long coat to shield them from flying debris. Then the trench coat dropped away and Niteshade slumped against the wall between Maddie and Ishmael. Blinking to adjust her eyes, she saw the mess the storm had caused.
The lightening must have hit the library wall just above the window. No serious damage was done to the supporting beams, but pieces of drywall and glass littered the lobby floor. The place was a shambles.
“Ow,” Ishmael said. Naturally the cheeky English bloke spoke up first. “See wot I said about raw power? Next time mate, take it easy!”
“Next time aim for Ishmael,” Maddy snapped, shock making her voice shake. Niteshade stood wordlessly and shook out the dust and glass shards from his jacket. He smiled ruefully and shrugged. Maddy looked up at him, concerned. “You all right?”
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Posted: Sat Jul 25, 2009 11:05 am
Smiling as he checked over himself, Niteshade says, "Yeah I'm okay, trench coats are good for some things. Glad I like Dresden novels and had an extra thick coat..."
As he mentally checked his condition he notices the pain had subsided to manageable levels. Must be from the pressure build-up with the storm front passing through and now that the worst was past it was letting up and getting used to the new pressure. I mean what else could it have been. Even though he had spoke the words earlier he was actually in a kind of trance and wasn't consciously doing it... his mind was on autopilot. He still thought it was just a really BIG coincidence as he wasn't yet ready to give in to the fantastic with just this display.
"What a big coicindence there, I must admit. I'm still not ready to believe your story bub... however, I'll give you a chance if the lady here," Niteshade says as he nods towards Maddie as he continues, "gives us a sample story about this item."
Niteshade reaches into his pocket and grabs something then bends down and sets something up on the ground so that the others can't see it. When satisfied he stands up to revel a small mechanical device. It is an ornately carved metal stubby cylinder with a flat and shiny top about 4 inches in diameter. The sides reveal scenes of dancing in the woods with elves, sprites and people. Sitting on top is a little carved lady in a shapely dress with her feet touching the surface. Obviously she will glide across the top in some type of pattern, but there is no tracks or marks to indicate where. On the side is a little crank and on/off switch that looks like a tree branch. Happy with his setup he moves to the side saying to Maddie, "Let's see if any other coincidences shall occur today m'lady. Please grace us with your skill."
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ScarletFrost Vice Captain
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Posted: Mon Jul 27, 2009 9:30 pm
Maddie stared in disbelief at the small wooden music box on the floor.
“Where did you get that?” she demanded. “My grandmother had something just like that. She used to wind it up and play it for me when I had a bad dream. When she died...I thought it was buried with her.”
“No time to get nostalgic, love,” Ishmael admonished. “Storytelling don't work both ways. You can't change the past wiv pretty words. You can only work wiv the world in its present state.”
Maddie took a deep breath. Time to prove if Ishmael was a stalker or the real deal. She felt the strange but familiar mixture of anxiety, frustration, and creativity that always produced her best work. She opened her mouth, and nothing came out. She tried again, and still she couldn't get any words to describe the music box's current story.
She hung her head in defeat, and finally said, “I can't. It's just not there. This is a powerful relic of the fae realm. It's been protected by spells and charms, preserved for hundreds of years. It's not something you create a story with, its something you create a story about.”
“Now, wot did I say about talent!” Ishmael beamed. “Not every Storyteller can dredge up an 'istory like that. Granted you can't change it, and you're right about that there being a powerful relic. Don't know 'ow you can 'andle it. My fingers would be tingling by now. But you certainly 'ave finesse!”
“Yeah, whatever,” Maddie replied, close to pouting with her inability to settle the argument once and for all.
“Don't take to too 'ard,” Ishmael consoled her. “'Ere, I 'ave an idea.” He leaned over and whispered confidentially in her ear. Maddies expression turned from skeptical to wide eyed shock.
“No!” she cried, glared at Ishmael. “I'm not going to do that!”
Ishmael pointed at Niteshade. “'Ee's a virtual stranger. 'Ee's got 'is own powers. And 'Ee doesn't look the romantic type, so if you can sweet talk 'im into a story, you 'ave to admit your power.”
Maddie glanced at Niteshade. Ishmael had a point, or three. And Niteshade was handsome in a rogueish, rough-around-the-edges kind of way. Finally, she started her story, in a soft voice, warm and clandestine.
“After a brilliant act of gallantry, Niteshade realizes how lovely the lady he saved really is. He finds himself compelled to sweep her off her feet...and kiss her...for no other reason than they both survived the lightening bolt.”
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Posted: Fri Jul 31, 2009 8:27 am
Niteshade watched and listened as Maddie gave in to defeat. Walking back to the music box, he bends over and picks it back up re-wraps it to put back in his jacket. During this his mind returns to when he received the box mysteriously as a child from some unknown relative on his birthday. The wrapping paper that looked and felt like leaves, and the box that seemed to be made of a single piece of wood with no noticeable seams. Those things didn’t mean much to a child of 7, but maybe they did now. He had just always thought it was a cool looking music box, and it could help him occupy his mind by watching the figure dance around. He never thought much more of it than that, though he had never given it up, sold it, or damaged it and he always seems to know exactly where it is. Caught in these memories he hears, but doesn't quite process, the words Maddie spoke in her story... yet.
He stands back up saying kind of absently, "Was just a gift from when I was younger." Turning back around Niteshade sees the light moving back and forth across entrance to the Library, in perfect timing to the swaying light above. The beams move across Maddie's face making the perfect set of shadows dance across it. They played from her cheek to the bridge of her nose, then sliding down the other side and obscuring her bright twinkling eyes as it made off the side of her face towards her ear. All of it seemed to be an accent to the underlying beauty within. It wasn't the glamoured and make-uped beauty you see in movies or photos, but the more modest and eternal beauty that radiates outward from within the soul… the type of beauty that does not dim with age, and may even become fuller as the years roll onward.
But what really caught his attention were her eyes. The green in those hazel orbs seemed to speak out to him saying that this is all true and that they were powerful beyond understanding, yet at the same time that she was scared and afraid of it and the situations occurring around her. She wanted, no needed someone there to help her along… why not him. Take her up into his arms, and whisk her away from these Shakespearean wannabes. All he needed to do, no all he wanted to do, was give her a kiss. After all hadn’t they just survived a traumatic event and deserved some relief??
As Niteshade started to move towards Maddie and Ishmael, his mind had a part screaming at him. It wanted attention, and so a very quick mental discussion was about to begin. He had always thought about issues in his mind’s eye visual as various versions of himself that expressed specific sides to things. He would try to go through all the sides he could think of and what they say for guidance and then choose the path he wanted from that. Strange, but hey who was really normal anyway. To him time slowed down and nearly stopped as his mental debate took center stage. It was like with everything fading out to his eyes, and then suddenly popping back open to find himself standing outside his own body. Niteshade was looking at his body in an extreme slow-motion mid-step when they stepped out. It really wasn’t multiple people, but just really a weird version of himself with a multiple personality disorder. It looked just like him except for its head, where it appeared to have a face on three sides with each having a slightly different look. Each face was like taking his own and twisting it a bit to be more like a specific mood or attitude. The currently forward facing one would be the one in control and speaking, while the others were just there.
At this point Niteshade realized something… he believed now for some reason. Maybe it was the events had processed enough, maybe he always did believe but didn’t want to admit it, or maybe the lightning had jarred something in him. Whatever the reason, he believed he was a storyteller and so was Maddie.
The current speaker had a more stereotypical demonic appearance, and its voice was deep and throaty as it spoke, “The b***h is playing you, git! Show some balls and gig her or something for once!” The head did a strange turn, where the faces rolled over and a new one was in front sort of like one of those action figures with multiple faces being turned. The new cone had hair that was wild and full of static electricity standing on end. The face had wild and crazy looking eyes and expressions with a voice that changed pitch and volume every three words or so as it spoke, “Let’s fry ‘em! Or drown ‘em in a flood of runoff… or make a sinkhole swallow ‘em up for all eternity.”
The next change brought one that seemed sympathetic in its expression and appearance. Its voice was calm, measured, and low when it spoke, “She’s just scared and unsure of herself. Don’t hold it against her. Would a simple kiss hurt anything, it may reassure her that the world hasn’t gone crazy.” When the head turned again the lead one had an ominous and lustful glint in its bright green eyes and the voice was husky and sensual as it spoke, “Yes a kiss wouldn’t hurt… and she might return it and more. How long has it been now, since the last one left? 6 months? A year?”
Whirlwinding on to a face with a pair of reading spectacles and black eyes took over, the voice was very stern and professor-esque as it said “Now enough of them. You know the facts and you’re being manipulated. If you would pay more attention you’d have heard her last words, but you were lost in memory recall again. THINK… and act reasonable. Your time is almost up.”
Niteshade shook his disembodied head, “they’re right”, he thought. The other him disappeared as his little mental debate was done. Course he still hadn’t decided how to stop Maddie’s story working, but his mind was firing on multiple cylinders and he was sure he’d have it by the time he needed it. If not then he’d just give her a kiss she wouldn’t forget, after all it had been a year since his girlfriend had left due to his sometimes chaotic and strange nature. But what should he do now… he concentrated to pull her words from his memory as his body slowly stepped forward getting ever closer to Maddie.
“…realizes how lovely the lady he saved really is… ”, well he didn’t need her compulsion to tell him that, but maybe it just brought home what he hadn’t had the chance to notice. He was like that, seeing or hearing things without actually doing it. They would go to memory and he’d process and recall later what he should have then.
“…finds himself compelled to sweep her off her feet...and kiss her… ”, hmmmm. He would definitely need to kiss her, or come up with a convincing reason not to. After all, even though he HAD made a story earlier, Niteshade still wasn’t quite in control of things to do it regularly yet.
Then the last came to him “…for no other reason than they both survived the lightening bolt… ”, this was the key. Combine those together and he had come up with an idea, now to see whether it would work. His self merged with his body and he came back to reality in all its much quicker speed. He strode up to Maddie and looked down to her face, her smaller height giving him a good 6 inches of height advantage. He smiled as he bent down and brushed some dust off her arms and legs as he spoke, “Forgive me for causing the incident before, I hope you are alright.”
He quickly grabbed her hand and brought it up to his face and kissed it, hoping that would complete her story… not that he didn’t want to kiss her lips, but he had certain principles or atleast he tried to when he didn’t listen to Mr. LustyPants and this definitely wasn’t the way to do things.
As he stood up, a slight edge came to his voice as he spoke softly saying, “Please don’t do that again. I dislike being controlled against my will.”
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ScarletFrost Vice Captain
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Posted: Fri Jul 31, 2009 12:54 pm
Maddie’s heart flipped over when Niteshade’s lips brushed the back of her hand. Then he stood with a soft reprimand, “Please don’t do that again. I dislike being controlled against my will.” She blushed at her own vanity, dropping her head to hide behind her hair. She sent the impish Ishmael a scathing glare for his roll in her embarrassment.
“Sorry,” she murmured, her cheeks blazing like maraschino cherries. Then she stood and turned to the door. Clearly she spun a short story, “The door is unlocked and the rain storm is moving on. Good evening gents. I need to be going home.” The lock clicked back and she ran out into the library parking lot.
Her mortification followed her out to her motorcycle. For some reason she felt like crying. It wasn’t as if Niteshade had been ungentlemanly in any way—in fact his chivalry was very endearing. But the fact that she’d told a story to make it so made her feel like a desperate bimbo. She could blame it on Ishmael’s suggestion, but she had been the one to utter the words.
She knew better than to force a relationship. And she should have known Niteshade would figure out what was going on. He probably hadn’t taken a second look at her as anything other than a fellow victim in the storytelling conspiracy. No one ever saw beyond her brains to her looks—which was rather ironic considering she had at least two friends who had slept their way though college because no one could look beyond their physical appearance. She wasn’t so lonely she needed to enslave a man with her words. She was just fine, living in a tiny apartment with only a cat for company. She didn’t even need this storytelling joke. She liked things the way they were. So she told herself.
Beads of rainwater covered the Honda Shadow, but Maddie didn’t care. She opened one of the saddlebags and took out her thick leather driving coat, jamming her new library books in its place. She pushed her slightly damp helmet on, swung her leg over the seat, and with a furious kick she tried to start the motorcycle. It turned over once, twice before it caught.
She took momentary solace in the purr of her ride. She knew no one could see her face with the tinted visor down, so behind her full helmet, she let the tears fall. She pulled her leather riding gloves out of her pockets and put them on, enjoying the smooth feel of doeskin. She zipped up her jacket, leaned forward and revved her bike, ready to take off.
Then her motor dyed. It spluttered alarmingly, shuddered, and then was silent. Ishmael came running out of the library behind her, and she just caught the tail end of his story.
“…bike out of commission, Maddie decides to talk,” he was saying as he approached. Niteshade was not far behind him.
Suddenly Maddie felt Ishmael’s peculiar accented storytelling power holding her bike hostage. Furry burned away the remaining tears in her eyes. She slammed up the vizor.
“Don’t you dare come any closer, you little turd,” she yelled. “Or all tell you a story that will tie you up in knots for a week.”
“Madalyn, I’m sorry—” Ishmael began.
“I don’t care!” she snapped. “I’ve talked to you, and that fulfills your stupid little story. When I start this bike again, it won’t stop until I’ve reached my destination. I’m leavening!”
She kicked the pedal again, but this time the bike’s motor didn’t even turn over. Angry, offended, and near panic stricken, she took off her helmet and viciously threw it at Ishmael. It caught him in the chest with a pained grunt.
“What did you do? I swear if you hurt my bike, I’ll rip you apart with my own two hands!” she screamed.
Ishmael visibly cringed at the dire portent of her words. “But I didn’t—” he started again.
“I said I didn’t care! I just want my bike to work! I just want to go home,” a sob choked of her last word. Furious that she might start crying in front of the two men, she snapped harshly, “Give me back my helmet!”
“Madalyn, I need to go wiv you,” Ishmael insisted, approaching cautiously as if she were a tiger ready to spring. “We 'ave to get those journals of yours. At least let me put them in a safe or vault or something. That’s all I ask.”
“Fat chance,” she snapped. She leaned over and grabbed her helmet. She wrapped her arms around it as if it were a teddy bear. “Just make my bike work, and I won’t kill you.”
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Posted: Fri Jul 31, 2009 5:48 pm
As Maddie hid amongst her hair, Niteshade thought how cute the image was. He always did like the whole hair laying to one-side hiding the face look women could pull off so well. She was gone and out the door before he new it. He felt a bit bad in one sense as his words seemed to have struck a deep chord with her. Ishmael took off after her. He heard the bike start, and as he followed behind could catch pieces of Ishmael's words, "...bike out of commission, Maddie decides to talk."
So he was still on his kick about 'helping' them. 10 to 1 odds he had his own agenda in mind, that wasn't just about protecting them. He needed to get away from him, and get time to plan out what to do next. How had he done it before... he had just spoken the story, but there was something special to it he knew. Some type of feeling... and then Ishmael was eating a helmet projectile. A smile crossed Niteshade's face, man that was nice he thought. What to do though, he needed a way out. He tried looking around to see what he could find in the parking lot. It was mainly deserted with only a few vehicles here and there sporadically. The water was running down to the drains, slowly clearing with the storm receding into the distance. Maybe he had an idea, after all. It might hurt Ishmael a little, but his pride will probably hurt more.
He tried to recall the feeling he had before, and finally it came to him after Maddie took her helmet back from Ishmael. He spoke lowly into the night, his voice with hints of the trance-like quality of before, "The storm was receding into the distance, the light from lightening visible still as it danced amongst the clouds trying to build itself up for some more action. The water on the ground rolled down the pavement towards the drains, catching some errant streams that were lost from a party earlier in the day. They moved some, then would stop until the pressure from the water moved it once again. This time across Ishmael's feet, though he didn't notice it. A car pulls into the parking lot, some half-drunk college kids still celebrating their youth when the tires kick one end of the streamer up to get caught on the rear bumper. As they drive onward, the streamer yanks forward grasping at Ishmael's torso and pulling him to the ground for a little drag. As luck was on his side he wasn't really hurt, just stunned as the jolt and fall knocks the wind from his chest. The car stops suddenly realizing something was wrong, and the kids get out to see what they hit. As the crowd Ishmael to help him, he loses sight of his two charges. Being the perfect chance for a get-away and having a bit of Lady Luck on her side, the clutch which was previously stuck on Maddie's bike comes free and the engine once again purrs to life, wanting to be let loose and run."
Smiling that devious smile of his, Niteshade turns to see the outcome and hopes Maddie might atleast give him a ride away from Ishmael a bit as he wasn't sure he'd be able to outrun the guy.
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ScarletFrost Vice Captain
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Posted: Fri Jul 31, 2009 11:42 pm
Ishmael started to say more when a junker car full of drunken idiots rolled by, speakers blasting. The car had three wheels in the junk yard and the kids driving it weren't much better.
A gust of wind grabbed something colorful and it fluttered between the two arguing parties. Too late to prevent disaster, Ishmael and Maddie realized that some leftover streamers had been pushed and pulled around Ishmael's body by the elements. At the worst possible moment, the college kids' ragged car bumper caught the streamer and with a chug of the engine, the car lurched forward and jerked the glib Brit off his feet.
Suddenly Maddie's bike roared to life, and she felt that tingling, spicy, earthy feel that went with Niteshade's scent. He had done this for her, she was positive. She threw him a grateful look and jerked her head indicating the back of her bike. Then she jammed the helmet on her head and revved the engine.
Niteshade took the hint and vaulted into the seat behind hers. His strong arms wrapped around Maddie's waist, and sent her heart racing. Berating herself fiercely behind her visor, because she was overreacting to a very innocent and necessary movement, she sped away from the small crowd of tipsy kids trying to help a very irate Ishmael.
Maddie expertly steered her Shadow through downtown to the freeway, and took off north. After ten minutes, she exited and wound her way through more streets until she came to her apartment complex. She stopped the bike outside the gate, took offer her helmet and shook out her hair.
“Well, this is my stop. You want to call a cab from here?” then hesitatingly, she added, “Or you could come in for a drink and a cookie or something...”
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Posted: Sun Aug 02, 2009 7:01 pm
Nothing big.. just a little forward-moving stuff. Hey those wouldn't be peanut butter cookies would they?? Yummy!
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Niteshade was glad to see his attempt worked as it meant he must be learning something, but his mouth was a bit dry now and his stomach was soon to start yelling. Apparently the storytelling took a bit of energy to do. When Maddie gave the signal, he was relieved and hopped on without a second thought. He put his arms around her waist, as was customary, and made sure he didn’t speak or distract her from the driving. He’d hate to test how well his jacket would hold up to a skidding slide across the pavement, not to mention his bare head. As they drove, the wind felt great against his skin and he closed his eyes enjoying the air. It had a bit of electricity to it still from the storm, and every now and then he’d get a hint of wood smell. He tried to concentrate on it to determine the type of wood, and by the time they got to the stop he had picked it out as sandalwood. Must be some perfume or lotion scent Maddie was using, as it’s not something common to find in this area naturally. When she shook out her hair, the scent or black cherries also came through… very intoxicating indeed.
At Maddie’s offer, Niteshade had a quick look of apprehension cross his eyes but he quickly subdued it down with a nice big mental stick. He glanced around to make sure he knew about where he was and then back into Maddie’s eyes saying, “I wouldn’t want to intrude, uh, we’ve just met after all…” His eyes told another story though if one looked to read it. The eyes were a window to the soul, and in Niteshade’s case also one more trait of his differentness. He would just say they were hazel, but in reality they were a bit different and he got tired of explaining them long ago. They consisted of two rings, one blue and one green, on top of each other. Normally the blue was at the center and the green on the outer part of the eye. They would play tag, and each would be bigger or smaller depending on the mood, clothes, and who-knows what else so that when combined they created differing shades and colors. There were also the brown specks that would pop up and seemed to move around the two layers in some unknown pattern. He also likened it to the red spot on Jupiter. Today, they seemed to combine to a steel-like color and the brown was hardly visible at all. Looking into they would easily tell the story of how he would like to go up and get to know Maddie better, but of course the conscious mind didn’t also follow what the rest wanted. But then again the unconscious mind can play its own games too…
As he was finishing his words, his stomach decided to have the last word and let out an overly apparent complaint that it wanted some food and it wanted it now. Looking a bit sheepish he finishes, “..uh, sorry about that. I don’t want to put you out or anything and my place is just about a 20 minute walk from here, but if you had some tea or something to go with that cookie I’d sure appreciate it.”
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