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 Posted: Mon Dec 20, 2010 6:32 pm
The weather was foul, and Desma Heisse's mood was fouler still. She was home alone for the weekend and and her heart set on watching Christmas claymations until she passed out. Unfortunately for the messy haired teenager, the weather had taken a turn for the worse and the satellite that brought the images to the stupid box wouldn't work with all of the cloud cover.
Huffing on her gloved hands and swearing Desma was standing the back porch of her mother's home. Des's mother had a strict no smoking in the house policy (not that Mrs. Heisse liked the fact her only offspring smoked at all) that was to be upheld at all cost. Even, Desma thought, if it meant she was going to lose a limb from the frost bite.
Not for the first time that day was Desma wishing that she had the money to spring for one of those electric packs of cigarettes, let's see if her mother could tell she'd been smoking indoors then!
Taking a drag from her cigarette she grumbled on exhale, this weather was just awful! No claymations, no midday news, and of course she was going to miss the rerun of Lost on at five. It was only three in the afternoon, but the cloud cover made it feel much later in the day.
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Posted: Mon Dec 20, 2010 7:23 pm
 Bing Dee had no recollection of how, exactly, she'd gotten to this strange world. She didn't know why she was here either. Of course, with no knowledge, Big didn't have to worry about it. That meant that she was free to ride the currents of the cold afternoon air. She laughed, her voice chiming like crystal bells on the wind, allowing only the slightest hint that she had made any noise at all. Strictly speaking, Bing did not know how to speak. She only knew the musical trills that, for some reason, she has appeared with the knowledge of. She didn't mind. When Big could no longer hear the music of this world, she was able to make her own. She danced to the notes that lighted from her throat as she bounced gracefully on the wind.
There was on note that Bing did have trouble reaching. She could make it if she concentrated, and if she devoted all of her breath to it. When she hit that note, it rung in her ears forever. She hadn't hit that note in quite a while, she mused to herself as she trilled absently. Bing swished her skirts and flipped the hair from her face as the wind blew it around. Perhaps it was time to reach it again? Bing Dee hit a bit of an updraft and gave a startled trill, carried up and over a rooftop. There really should have been an early warning system for that, she pouted as she swirled down towards the earth. Alright, time to try the note again. Bing Dee spread her arms and took in a deep breath of fresh...
Good, lord in heaven, what was that? Bing Dee gave a delicate cough, her elegant twil turning into a violent spin out towards the ground. Poof! Bing Dee landed in a drift of snow a top a railing. Thankfully the landing was soft, the sighed, head popping out of the snow with the most comical cap of fluff atop her skull. Indignantly, she shook it off. Now, what exactly was that god awful stench? And what, pray tell, was that? Bing's eyes hand landed on a girl, brown headed, with some smoking object hanging out of her mouth. Well, that was a new sight for Bing. A gust of air caught her and Big directed herself up and over to the girls face.
There is was again! This small stick seemed to create the foul stench! Bing Dee went red in the face from rage. It was you who ruined my song, she raged to herself. She gave and shrill, angry trill and kicked snow in the girls face, stomping around, speaking the musical language she knew in hopes that she under stood.
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Posted: Mon Dec 20, 2010 7:48 pm
Desma was a bit on edge as of late, after doing some Christmas shopping during the week she'd run into a snake-centipede-monster and a strange man had saved her and ran off into the snow. She inhaled again blowing the smoke off to the side...she jumped looking around, what was that noise? it sounded like a musical note.
She spotted the tiny ballerina, and held the cigarette between her lips, Desma used both hands to rub her eyes, believing that she was seeing shapes in the snow. No, there it was! a beautiful little dancer. The cigarette dropped from her lips as she gawked.
"I'd say that's enough eggnog for me, but I haven't had a dropt," she joked and then the ice dancer was kicking snow at her! How ridiculous!
"Hey! That's not very nice, what's wrong with you?" She looked as the poofy dressed girl stomped around and made funny noises, she thought this was quite comical, but was too on edge to laugh. Was this another one of those monsters? Where was a queerly dressed hero when you needed one?
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