Welcome to Gaia! ::

Well tell your bro that I'm an only child too! Woohooo!

OMG!! I love the first post. n.n
Great description. XD

Uhh...no... but I suggest you wait untill the RP starts to do it xp

Ew, please change those pants soon, I could smell them from the next thread over!

If you want, I can play another....

(( First post for the RP! YAY!))

Wynter was sitting by her upstairs bedroom window watching the heavy rain dribble down the cold glass. She could hear the screams and clangs of her parents arguing downstairs. She pushed away the nearly hidden door to the upstairs attic and silently went up the steps. The familiar warm smell greeted her kindly as she walked in further.

She could barely hear her parents arguing anymore and she concentrated on the patter of the rain. Wynter had many a time come up here to just escape when she couldn’t leave home. She walked over and sat at the dusty old desk in the corner and it creaked under her little weight.

In the corner of her eye she could see a soft glow emanating from a wooden box on the old dresser off to the side. It cast three streaks of light across her face that grew brighter as she approached. She curiously took the small box and opened it. Nestled a series of scribbled on papers and other strange materials were two rings, a clear crystal glowing in each of the centers.

As her hand neared them the crystal grew even brighter. She stepped back, testing the light to see that the closer she was the brighter the stone. She stepped back towards the box removing some of the papers and scanned over them.

I’m telling you Ray, one of them said, this place was incredible! Entirely covered by beautiful tropical waters, nothing like home! They call it Cloral, a name well chosen for such a beauteous place.

Wynter stopped reading and looked down at the rings again curiously, then back to the papers. What were these papers? What were the rings for and why did they glow? She recalled the name Ray. He was the former owner of the house, and he had a best friend, Gunny. Gunny was seen around with Ray quite often but took many long trips out of town. The two died quite a long time ago.

She curiously emptied the box of the papers and sat back down at the desk to read them. She felt a bit guilty for reading something that didn’t belong to her and could possibly be personal but, what was the old guy going to do? Sue her? She sat back with her feet on the desk and began reading the first page titled Journal # 1.

It didn’t take her long to get into the writings. It all seemed so real. Could this all just be some fairytale written by a crazy kook? Most likely. But what of the rings that were in the box? They were explained fairly well in the papers and looked like they were the ones from the story.

Much intrigued, Wynter got up and grabbed the box with the rings and took that and her heavy stack of papers back down to her room to read. Before plopping down on her bed to read she looked out the rain spattered window to see her father’s car gone, hence the quiet from below.

She jumped onto her bed and read.

It took her a couple hours to finish reading them all. When she finally did look up from them her eyes were wide from fear and shock. Could all of this be real? There were so many things happening in the world right now that seemed perfectly explained in the journals she had just been reading. They belonged to Gunny, the traveler of First Earth, which was apparently the territory she was on right now.

She looked back to the box with the rings in it and opened it up. The rings were still softly glowing and grew brighter with her touch. She placed one on the finger of her right hand. It shrank to her size as if having a mind of its own and stopped glowing. Wynter jumped and tried to take the ring from her finger but it would not let go.

Wynter looked back to the journals and re-read the portion that said that Gunny was the last generation of Travelers for First Earth and that there would be no others after him. If this was so, then why did the ring act so strangely around her? She pocketed the second ring and put the journals back in the box and locked them in her top drawer.

She began pacing the floor of her small, simple room thinking and twisting the ring, trying to get it off. Wynter grabbed her jacket then pulled the box back out, sliding it into the large inside pocket. To Jet’s house.

She tiptoed down stairs so she wouldn’t be heard by her mother and headed for the door. She got no father than half way when someone threw open the door. She ducked inside the coat closet but left it open a crack to peek through.

“Vivy!” she heard her father slurr. She could smell the whisky all the way in the closet. “Get out here now!”

Her mother came into view and hissed, “Your drunk! Get out, get out!”

Her mother threw the chopping knife she had in her hand at him but missed. Her father reached inside his coat pocket and stepped near her mother. Her mother retaliated and threw a punch to his face. He stumbled back and whipped his hand out of his coat. Before Wynter even knew what had happened she heard two gun shots and her mother collapsed to the floor dead.

Wynter gasped and watched as her father dropped the gun and staggered towards her and kicked her lifeless body. Wynter jumped out of the closet and began attacking her father. He tossed her back to the wall and pressed his body up against hers to the point where she couldn’t move.

“I’ve been waiting forever for this.” He seethed, his breath reeking of liquor. He began pulling at Wynter’s pants trying to take them off her. She lifted her knee between his legs and gave a quick jab to his stomach. Her father rolled to the floor in pain and Wynter scrambled for the gun.

She lifted it to her father and he looked up and laughed.

“You… you’re going to shoot me?” he drooled standing up and stepping towards her. She kept the gun steady and cocked it, but the truth was, she wasn’t sure if she could do it. Her father smiled and swung at her, hitting her on the side of her right eye. As a reaction she pulled the trigger of the gun. She heard another gun shot and her father stepped away.

Wynter looked at him with wide fearful eyes and he stared back at her blankly. He withdrew the hand from his chest covered in blood and looked at it dumbly. He stepped forward and Wynter shot him again, this time with tears of anger streaming down her face. Her father dropped to the floor gasping for breath.

“Go to hell.” She said as she stood over his body. She lifted and cocked the gun one more time and shot him square in the head. She stood over her two dead parents for a few seconds after, a wave of relief washing over her. They were finally gone. No more fights. No more coming to school in the morning with a black eye and bloody nose. She was free.

I’m so screwed. She thought. Then, just to make matters worse, she could hear sirens in the distance over the heavy rain. She peered out the front window and could see worried neighbors coming out of their houses at the sound of the gun fire. They had heard it and called the police.

She stepped away from the window and dropped the gun. It clattered to the floor but she never heard the sounds for she was already out her back door and on her way to Jet’s. She arrived breathless at his house and climbed the leafless tree to get to his window. She tapped on it softly already soaked by the heavy rain.

She waited for what seemed like an eternity, then she finally saw the curtains ruffle and Jet’s kind face appear. He had messy black hair with bangs that always fell in front of his eyes. He had pale skin with a couple freckles scattered on the bridge of his nose. His eyes were a bright green and often had a haunting, far off look to them.

Jet opened the window and Wynter climbed in and collapsed to the floor, leaning against the wall below the window. Jet quickly closed the window and knelt next to her bringing his hand up near where her father had punched her. She jumped a bit and backed away. Jet put his hand down and held her.

“I swear, if that man touches you one more time I’m going to kill ‘im.” He said in angry tones. Wynter relaxed and shivered in his warm embrace. She gave a small, weak laugh and he backed away.

“I’m afraid you wont be able to do that.” she said, her eyes angry and distant. Jet gave her a questioning look and took his fingers underneath her chin, moving her gaze towards him.

“Wynter?”

Wynter looked at him darkly, brushing the wet hair from her face.

“I killed him.”

Kira picked up the phone. Hello?" she asked. A familiar voice greeted her, though it was one she couldn't place.

"Kira? Hey, Kira I have something of your father's that he wanted me to give you. Could you come over tonight?" Kira paused. "Oh, yeah, I'm sorry. This is your uncle Pete."

"Pete!" she exclaimed. Pete had been her father's closest friend, and the one who had called her telling her that her father had died. Kira hadn't seen him since the funeral, and had never had the courage to ask him how he had known. "Um, sure. What is it?"

"I'd rather show you. You remember where I live, don't you?"

"Of course I do, Pete! I'll see if Grandma can bring me around seven. Bye!" Pete said goodbye and hung up. Kira ran quickly down the stairs to talk to her grandmother. "Grandma, can you bring me out to Pete's tonight? He has something of Dad's he wants to give me."

"Sure honey. I remember Pete. He and your father were such close friends."

Kira went back up to her room and collapsed on her bed, a tear leaking from her eye. Her father had died on vacation, and somehow Pete had known before everyone else. She twisted the ring on her finger, it had been part of her father's will that she get it. Her father had gotten it one day, 'from a friend' and had worn it ever since. He had been wearing it when he died.

Kira remembered the day he came home with the ring. His eyes were wide, and he looked shocked. When Kira had asked what was wrong, he'd shaken his head, told her it was nothing, and asked about her day at school. He'd come home a few times like that, after work, and always refused to tell her what had happened. He had looked llike that the day he told her that he had to go on a vacation tomorrow, and that she would have to stay with her grandma until he got back. He had never truly gotten back.