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 Posted: Wed Apr 28, 2010 2:29 am
 Berries EverywhereWho: Doucette and Iorek
Where: Strawberry Fields
[A Better Sweet Tooth]
Everyone knows that berry picking is perfect for spring! But who is this gentle beast in our midst?
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Posted: Sun May 02, 2010 10:23 pm
QuietusWho: Vivi, Doucette, Shepard, A Soul
Where: Gambino
[Witnessing Magnificence]
The girls night out goes awry when one of the girls literally goes out of her way to chase her fate.
Doucette calls for Shepard's help and finally everything falls into place over the course of a terrible storm.
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Posted: Sun May 02, 2010 10:26 pm
Truthfully as a story Vivi's would be exciting and gallivant. It would make people perk up and listen. It would make people ooh and it would make people aah. But Doucette's story was naught but a string of failures and an accidental mishap in the end. It was a story she wouldn't be telling many people, that was for sure.
If it was a promise of things to come she though she might be able to handle caring for the creature that would soon begin forming and one day in the future it would be hers.
Hers.
Doucette breathed out and sank slowly into her seat, trying not to groan in the way old people did when they just let their whole body relax. Not for the first time did the woman think of the body as being held together with force similar to holding opposing magnets to each other. It was a constant and tiring strain and there was always a rush of relief when one gave up and simply let them be. Now she was simply letting her body be and it felt so good to feel the plush fixture envelope her.
Ah but only if the soul bottle could have talked, saved herself the embarrassment of believing she'd captured the wrong item. Not only had she made a fool of herself to Vivi and Shepard the first time in being truly unaware of how to capture a soul in the first place but now she had failed to manage to secure anything in a proper manner. As icing on the cake she'd even informed Rivener and Aphismet of her triumph.
Thankfully Doucette had a low level of pride and thus she didn't feel the mighty had fallen. Embarrassment was the natural order of her life as evidenced by her overwhelming ability to blush in almost any instance.
"You'll be good to me, wont you?" Doucette murmured as if she were talking to one of her pugs, cradling the bottle and vial upon her lap as she did so. She surprisingly felt no stronger feeling for the thing after learning more about it than on her original acquisition of the items, but her affection for it was still there and steady. For someone who overreacted in most emotional settings she found herself surprisingly void of any sort of overwhelming response. Instead of feeling calm as Vivi's had made all in its range feel, Doucette felt almost as if her emotions were ebbing away into a hallow sort of nothingness. It was not a depressing emptiness, simply...an empty one.
Doucette brushed the strange feeling away like one would brush cobwebs from the rafters. Perhaps her mother had been right and she simply wasn't cut out for these strange matters. Which reminded her that she needed to call Roisin and update her on the latest discoveries. So far she had utterly failed at explaining the delicate circumstances. The adopting but not adopting, being chosen with out having applied. The words sounded odd even to her ears but she supposed life was going to be a little odd from here on out anyway.
"You'll be good to me wont you?" Doe asked again, a yawn stretching the last words into a comedic mumble before draining off as the woman drifted to sleep in her chain.
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Posted: Sun May 02, 2010 10:29 pm
The call came soon after Vivi's, which might be surprising to the too men but not to the two woman who'd been put to the test ever so recently. There was no awkward long pause suitable only for crickets but instead the sure voice of a woman totally out of her depths and trying to not let it show.
"Hello again! It's Doucette...again." The woman sounded just as sweet and absent minded as she had in the coffee shop and they could likely imagine the way her expression shifted as rapidly as a leaf being blown down the sidewalk. "So it turns out I might have been wrong afterall. I seem to have accidentally captured the soul of my bowl of moonstones instead of the jellyfish as earlier assumed."
And then the long pause came, a fidgeting sound on the other end the only clue that the woman hadn't simply forgotten she was on the phone with someone. "If it isn't too very forward of me," Doucette said, pausing once more as she sought the right words, "I would very much like to meet with you and talk with you about this development. I would like to speak with you about what you know about Raevans with rocks for souls, as I've only met those with souls that...you know...were alive?"
Another long pause before there was a hurried thank you and a good bye. Hopefully her strange phone calls would not provoke an impatience in Rivener, for she felt very strongly he was her best option for help.
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Posted: Fri May 21, 2010 9:24 pm
Two For The Price Of OneWho: Doucette, Vivi, Zeke, Anastacia
Where: Vermilion
[All Your Soul Bottles Are Belong To Me]
The inseparable duo meet with Zeke and his new Raevan Anya to drop off their bottles and get one step closer to obtaining their own Raevans.
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Posted: Fri May 21, 2010 9:25 pm
The Perfect Hat Is Out ThereWho: Doucette and Lulu
Where: The Mall
[There Sure Are A Lot Of You]
While out doing her favorite activity (shopping of course!) Doe runs into a sweet-natured princess raevan.
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Posted: Fri May 21, 2010 9:45 pm
Hold Your BreathWho: Doucette, Phiel, Zurine
Where: The Aquarium
[My Favorite Raevan]
Taking a break from the norm has lead her into the proverbial lap of another raevan at the aquarium.
For Doucette it's love on sight; the single most magnificent raevan she's met to date.
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Posted: Fri May 21, 2010 10:02 pm
The lightning. It’s not to be forgotten. Flickering, it’s hugging to the belly of the beast with electric claws and letting everyone know big brother thunder is nothing without this stage debut. Sometimes it streaks, reaching with arms of great length, all gangly and disorderly towards towering giants of civilization. That which it grips in outstretched fingers brings new meaning to a burning passion. But sometimes it simply overwhelms as a white-hot blindfold over wide eyes that peer from the window waiting for the knight savior: dawn.
There’s rescuing to be done but time stretches in a way that makes you understand the limitless lack of power.
Finding oneself stuck at home, remembering days past and storms with equal fury, a dashing of princely pride before the honorable fall. Defeat is only one more step towards a future greatness they all say, but are these profits or players who give out possibility on the curve of a smile?
Doucette, the timid thing, the furthest from fire and flare as one with her shade of hair can be and little more than a humorous opposition to common lore. There’s comfort in the closet, ragged and worn it’s got the face of a bear and the heart of brave lion. It knows how to keep the outer beast at bay. It knows what it means to comfort with concern upon glossy button eyes. Perhaps its arms are not long enough to hug, but it’s the perfect size for squeezing, a bundle of coiling shapes for spaces to burrow a single freckled nose.
A phone rings at the worst moment, taking its uninvited entrance during the hastily brought silence of a storm taking a breath after its warm up. All that rage and bluster is coming soon, settling in over head with promises more like threats and tears falling in melody upon trees with wide wet leaves. The callous rattling hum one octave too high to ears attempting to shut out the world around them breaks into the hush once more, disturbing the drenched refuge of birds in the bushes.
The quivering voice answers, unhappy about its current relocation to the kitchen, a shallow refuge from the expansive windows and theater screen view of the coming antichrist. “Are you crying again?” Mother’s voice on the line is chilled and full of reproach, disgruntled from the weakness she’d put her own hand in raising. “I told you, it’s just thunder and lightning.”
But it’s more than that. It’s a rolling, growing tide that threatens the very ground’s growth and so-called front lawn. It’s a shuddering wind that makes panes rattle with the pelting of newly strengthened drops. It’s a flashing and rumbling threat of destruction, fire in the depths of monsoon. It’s knowing how fragile an island can be in the midst of anarchy.
It’s an enchantment too, a wonder of the glory and scientific prowess behind such force, and the knowledge that rolls in the mind like lottery balls of myths and legends associated with such a creature.
But the danger is laughing in the face of the enchantment, not the other way around.
“There, there,” sighed the voice a million miles away disjointed from a body only the mind’s eye could recreate. A rotund spectacle of boisterous opinions and mother-knows-best attitudes. An Irish woman who knows what the business is and has already Googled the directions for how to get to it. But despite all her pros there are short comings in the short woman: an inability to filter the bad upon plush pillows of good; a disturbing talent of bringing misfortune with little preamble.
“You have a brother.”
There’s no air in the room. It left a cold vacuum in its wake, the creature’s tail flicking with invisible delight at its pranks wrought upon the poor woman’s heart. Pregnant? No. The couple was far too old, dried husks where youth once reigned and thus after found shelter in the rebirth of children and legacy. Adoption? No. The voice wasn’t warm; it wasn’t welcoming the boon of a new life into the folds of a new family. The voice was distracted. The voice held secrets within its depths and the voice didn’t like revealing them out from their carefully constructed pit.
A brother then. An older brother. A hidden brother. “His name is Liam.” Then that was where the dark tale unfolded.
There he was, the perfect child with hair that haloed his crown with a bleached red gold of tumbling locks. For years they’d spent time with a child they could bounce upon their knee until the peals of laughter made even tinkling crystal envy shaded, a child that raced in the grass and didn’t know any better for the stains upon his clothes and all the pale colored furniture. But shadows danced in his blue-gray eyes and there was a cruelty wrought at the tips of stubby fingers and malicious childhood pranks gone too far and too wrong.
Nothing to fear. How can a parent fear of their child if they spend all their time fearing for it?
At ten he’d welcomed his sister with a scowl, those lips twisting in ways European roads couldn’t conceive and brows creating a cavern of petulance. Distaste and disloyalty. He didn’t want her as family and the couple found often a girl in tears and a boy always nearby with guilt heavy upon shoulders not belonging to him, for this Liam heard the wails and found he didn’t care.
Thirteen, thirteen. Liam ran away at thirteen. He’s a brat and he’s not in school. He’s starting fires and stealing cigarettes from old women he’s carrying groceries for. Three years it’s been since they saw the demon rise up in him, those shadows overtaking any playful or sweet demeanor the child once possessed. Now he is only cruelty.
Of course there were tears, ribbons of damp sorrow upon pale countenance. Woe, woe. How could it have happened like this? Push had come to shove and shove hadn’t liked the attention, it had taken its exacting price for the divided attentions between the children though they had so truly never wanted for anything their short lives. Decisions had to be made and made they were, quiet and in the dark of night. Candles flickered as guardians over whispered conversations, hissed refusals and choked acceptance. A move was inevitable for there was danger in staying.
The grandparents. The revered of the east and the forgotten of the west. Together had the mother and father of the mother and father lived together, a complacent quartet of knitting and tapioca. And then comes the chances of Whim, riding along on its great stead Fate: there was to be disaster. Surely there was no greater terror here, standing on the side walk staring into the heavens as it guzzled the billowing black smoke emanating from orange tongued flames. Neighbors called it a terrible accident. Arsonists called it a deliberate attack.
Fourteen, fourteen. Sin was his greatest at fourteen when he burned down the home of his grandparents and snuffed out the rattling last gasps of a system offering love.
Where had their golden boy gone? The one that squeezed frogs a little too tight in his glee.
There was no doubt that they were in danger, that their Doe was in danger of the young boy’s relentless and silent decree that he’d do just the same to her: Her trembling tiny heart should be fitted with shackles of depression just as his had when her blue eyes had entered his world.
Outside the storm had picked up its pace, the damaging demon throwing debris with a certain flare and gusto; but the sound was far away now. The sounds of a storm were so below comprehension as one woman’s young life clicked into place. Oh how the child had wailed at being taken from her friends, shoved into a quiet corner of Ireland’s beaches and never allowed to dally or tarry. Memories heavy as tar surfaced behind her eyes, watching a father that smoke and drank too much, blaming himself for the death of the parents he loved in a fire he could have stopped. Time’s bandaid had told her that the streaks of gray and sculptor etched lines had been a fireman’s burden, a sorrow shared for every fire that lost lives. Time’s bandaid could not cover the poison of truth, and now it was seeping from the sides, the new guilt that curved the back of a once strong man.
If lies had solid form they’d be sharp and they’d be jagged. They’d be able to wrap and squeeze, biting and pinching as they coiled around every tender feeling you had until sobs were all you could manage from the pain.
Why were these secrets coming now?
At only three a child can hardly remember. Perhaps for a year she asked where the brother had gone, why his fair curls no longer loomed over her bed every mornings. A young child forgets and leaves these forgotten memories upon a curb during trash day. But at 25 she is no longer a child. She is someone who should have known, who doesn’t care for secrets stuffed in corners and covert glances sent her way at the first mentions of leaving home.
But now, unwarned, her name is in the paper, her ever less than unique stringing together of letters to create a title all one’s known life her sudden downfall.
“He’s coming for you. We so fear it. He’s coming for you.” And Doucette could feel the way her mother shook with her tears half way across the world, for the trees shook with the same lamentable sorrow upon the beach only a few steps away.
There were no mention of the drugs, of the whoring and the gambling. There were no mentions of the violence and the time spent staring at bars and the way he muttered about hating red headed women. A boy of ten doesn’t forget in the way a girl of three does and he was coming for her with all the wound up, drunken and violent swagger he could possess.
Doucette hung up the phone, the emotional storm brewing through its wind up even as the chaos outside passed on and on to terrorize some other red head in some other place. Some other person with a teddy bear tucked under their arm and eyes like saucers from under their blankets.
Probably some person whose only care was the mewling wail of the wind bringing a torrent instead of a phone call that changes lives and brings a fear physical as any stalker.
He was coming.
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Posted: Mon May 24, 2010 4:46 am
EvolutionWho: Doucette and Shepard
Where: Barton Zoo
[A Friend and More]
In an attempt to apologize Shepard takes Doe to the zoo but the recent phone call puts her on edge.
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Posted: Mon May 24, 2010 6:13 am
But today was a new day of escapades for the young dog to enjoy and not only was she able to obtain the adventurous vial but also the brother soul bottle now filled with something milky to her gray vision.
Dolce took an immediate dislike to the filled bottle. The moment her jaws locked around the handle was the moment she let it go and started shaking her head. It was uncomfortable a strange, like walking into a silent room that was so overwhelming it hummed. Dolce continued to flop her ears about her head as if she could get the pressure removed. Stubby legs were propelling her backwards quickly, quickly away from the bottle and the vial. Any relation to the soul bottle was a relation she didn’t want to have.
Slinking off, the pug sought refuge under a window ledge in the corner and whimpered and whined until Doucette came home and found the dark faced mug cowering. “What is it darling?” came the sweet voice, the beloved voice. Dolce whined further, her over-round eyes flickering between the discarded soul bottle and the vial.
Her lady looked over and then back as well, lips turning into a frown the pug knew was never a good sign. “I told you not to play with it,” she sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Of course Doe would be confused; one minute the puppy was in hog heaven playing with the vial of Borealis, and the next she was clearly cringing away from the thing.
“If you don’t play with it it can’t upset you,” her woman said, picking the items up and putting them in a place the pug couldn’t get them. Dolce felt better when they were out of reach, the silent pressure easing slowly from her poor, sensitive ears. The bottle smelled hollow and wrong, and it felt even worse. Doucette’s words might not be understood, but they’d be followed unknowingly for Dolce was promising herself to leave the two things alone even as she started begging for dinner.
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Posted: Mon May 24, 2010 6:40 pm
The booze, the violence, the whoring, they helped him forget for such a short time but the jails were devoid of distraction and so blue eyes haunted his every moment.
They lurked outside windows and in his dreams, their depths a deceptive calm. His parents might be fooled by her sweetness, her devotion, her every little movement that put their pride upon her instead of him.
Of course he could never admit it was his paranoia that drove him to these thoughts, the jealousy and refusal to recognize reality. Roisin and Rory no doubt loved their son equally as much, but his elder brother status meant they put a hard hand to his missteps and his resentment grew in the stead of sharing their attentions.
Doucette DeLacy.
The newspaper had given her name a pretty font splashed above the small article about some restaurant or other. Perhaps in some alternate universe where he had been a good big brother, had raised his little sister along side his parents, he would have felt a swelling of pride that she had made a name for herself. But this was no other realm and all his cold heart felt was new shackles of resentment. How dare she make a name for herself while he was suffering day in and day out.
How dare she.
Typed words were crumpled in his hand, a sneer on his face and super pale blue eyes almost completely changed with the hatred that coursed through his veins thick and burning.
His parents wouldn’t have recognized their ‘golden child’ these days. Liam was rugged; a physical fighter made strong on bar brawls and fire-willed hookers that needed putting in their place. His jaw showed signs of a forgotten day’s shave and his eyes seemed perpetually scowling with heavy, dark brows. Most of all his pale red-blond curls needed a good washing. Yet another thing he could hold over his sister’s head for while she relaxed in the luxury of a home over her head, Liam fought daily with a place to live, too temporary to ever call home.
It was easy to find her now. An uncommon name pops out of directories with flare, he’d only needed the location of her city which the newspaper unknowingly supplied. There was a dismay however to discover her residence upon an island. Liam had planned his voyeurism, had planned to study and watch her and figure out just what would hurt her the most; what would bring her down as hard as she’d brought him and lower if possible.
An island was not somewhere he could remain in stealth and he cursed her ability to stay two steps ahead of a predator she didn’t even know about.
At least not until recently. He knew from Rory and Roisin’s pleas that his dear sister had forgotten about him in her youth, her idle days no doubt erasing his presence from her mind as swiftly as the wind brushes aside footsteps in the sand. The bitter knowledge of this was a bad taste in his mouth and he spit upon the sidewalk just remembering the insult. His parents cries fell on deaf ears and they had no doubt informed their redheaded beloved of the danger now stalking her.
Liam would have to watch from a distance then, he could do that with ease. The streets had taught him how to manipulate shadows; how to stalk and steal without detection. The streets had raised something terrible and unstoppable.
The ferry arrived while he’d been lost in his thoughts and his plans, but a flash of fiery made him snap to attention and he stared as she departed for her day in the town. A smile was brought to his lips as he watched the way she glanced around, over her shoulder and scanning the people before her with uncertainty.
Her fear invigorated him.
When he was sure the woman was far enough off he’d push himself from the bench he’d rested upon and follow her, hands in his pockets and newspaper left behind. Yes. He would find her weaknesses and he would exploit them.
He would make her miserable.
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Posted: Wed Jun 02, 2010 6:06 pm
A lip was curled up as a small growl rumbled in her throat. Not that she was anything of a threat. Brave yes, but Gabbana was not so stupid a pup as to believe her small stature could scare off anything larger than a quail. Such odds weren’t going to keep her on the couch though, and she promptly jumped down with a little jingle of the collar Doucette had made for her yesterday.
Of course Doucette was out, probably searching to bring home some other odd or end. If a dogs mind could think far enough ahead it would wonder where all this stuff went when their home truly wasn’t so large as to support Doucette’s collective nature. But Gabby didn’t worry about such things. She worried about the way the large sound rustled around the side of the house where her lady’s bedroom lay.
Wasn’t Dolce in the bedroom enjoying the patch of sunlight that fell on Doucette’s comforter?
Well yes, there she was, lounged out in hog heaven and dead asleep. Typical of Dolce to be oblivious to real threats. Oh well, best to let her be. There was a better chance to do some real investigating without the other pug getting in the way.
In a less than graceful way due to her compact form, Gabby eventually managed to make her way onto one of the desks next to a window and she cocked her head from side to side as she attempted to catch sight of whatever critter was sneaking too close to their beachy little home.
She didn’t have to wait long, for quite suddenly and in a way that startled her badly enough to make her little heart race, Gabby found herself almost face to face with a devil. At least, his angry dark features and the scowl upon his lips made him look like a devil, and he was certainly up to no good. Recovering herself, Gabby began to bark furiously, baring her teeth and bristling all over.
The man with reddish curls lighter than Doucette’s just grinned and tapped at the glass with a finger, infuriating the guardian pug. Dolce too had finally woken up and bounded down from the bed, dashing in circles barking up a storm as it if would do her any good. Liam ignored the both of them both much to Gabbana’s distaste. This was her turf!
Dolce and Gabbana proceeded to chase the man around the house no matter what area he ended up surveying, but he surprisingly never attempted to get in their home, simply prowling around outside. As suddenly as he’d showed up he was just as suddenly gone. Gabby listened as his shoes crunched their way through the sand and the fallen brush, but neither her nor Dolce let down their guard for the rest of the day.
When their lady finally came home they attempted to warn her, whining and barking and dashing about wildly. Doe only laughed at them as if they were putting on a show for her.
Gabby felt disheartened, but days passed and there was no sign of the man again, or any other creatures prowling about.
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Posted: Sat Jun 05, 2010 10:22 pm
Can't Wait To Be KingWho: Doucette and Ripley
Where: Movie Theater
[Joint Interests]
There's a movie marathon in town of the cartoony-sort and Doucette knows just the person to enjoy it with!
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Posted: Wed Aug 25, 2010 2:59 am
It was small and yet it held all the terror in the world. It had been left upon her pillow without the slightest disturbance to any part of her home. It only had two words on it but it made her feel sick to her stomach. It was the shortest note she'd ever read and yet it held more meaning than an essay. It was the proof that there was a stalker, and that it was related to her. It was proof that he knew where she was and how to get at her.
It was proof that family isn't always a good thing.
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