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Posted: Mon Apr 01, 2013 12:38 pm
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Posted: Mon Apr 01, 2013 12:48 pm
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Posted: Mon Apr 01, 2013 12:50 pm
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Posted: Mon Apr 01, 2013 12:57 pm
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Posted: Mon Apr 01, 2013 1:07 pm
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Posted: Mon Apr 01, 2013 1:11 pm
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Posted: Mon Apr 01, 2013 1:17 pm
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Posted: Mon Apr 01, 2013 1:22 pm
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Posted: Mon Apr 01, 2013 1:25 pm
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Prompt Response Username: XBlind-DarknessX Prompt Number: #3 Your response: His features looked distorted and strange in the rippling waters of the pond he was gazing intently into. Who was he? Obviously his name was Jedrek and he had been born to Jezabelle Sinclair and Laertes but the question he was asking rang deeper than a simple surface answer like that would satisfy. He was not like his mother and he was not like his father, he was unlike either of them really. As would be expected he picked up a few of their traits along the way, but he still didn’t feel as though he was entirely a prodigy of one or the other. His mother’s sanity rest on the water of life, or blood, a substance that both drew him and caused him a great deal of strife. Unlike his mother he could not consume it, though part of him yearned for it the other would clench up and make him feel as though he were about to pass out. He grew weak and clouded in its presence and therefore tended to try and avoid it at any cost. Because of this he could not spend much time around his mother who often smelled of the disgusting red liquid. He loved her dearly but would become ill should he catch a whiff of her latest indulgence. That and he often times found it hard to communicate with her because of his own inner conflicts. The same could be said of his steadfast and noble father, Laertes. Though Jedrek tried to pick up on some of his father’s more desirable morals he couldn’t devote himself to them in the way that his father had. Though they seemed important they felt like more of a burden sent to bind one’s life with a thick and unbreakable chain. He fought hard to keep from disappointing his father but knew, with the weight his father put on these virtues, he would be unable to keep to that goal. He will often wander with his father because of his own restless nature but, like he and his mother, they often can find nothing to talk about aside from the steepness of the path or the scent of the air. He loves both of his parents dearly and wouldn’t part with them for the world, but he cannot find a way to relate to either of them. His mother is sympathetic of his illness when it comes to blood but there is little more she can do than comfort him with soft words. Though he has never asked, he imagines his father would be quite proud of the fact that his son would not have to harm others to survive, which also didn’t help his case. All in all, he just feels a sense of separation between him and his parents. He doesn’t know much of his other family members, but plans to learn about each of them in the future, a small hope that he will belong with one of them lingering in his breast. The one member of his family that he feels he can relate to the most is his sister Claudette. She does not wish to drink blood but must satiate her appetite regardless and he wishes to drink blood but becomes ill at the very thought of it. Together they almost make up two halves of the same whole which helps him to feel more at ease with her. Because he cannot be around blood without becoming physically ill he is able to help her refrain from drinking blood so he is able to offer her some relief at least. He has always followed her around, feeling attached to her more than anyone. He loves his other sister, Desdemona, as well but he feels a special connection to Claudette.
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Posted: Mon Apr 01, 2013 1:35 pm
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Posted: Mon Apr 01, 2013 1:35 pm
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Posted: Mon Apr 01, 2013 1:41 pm
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Prompt Response Username: XBlind-DarknessX Prompt Number: #4 Your response: Jedrek Sinclair. Even his name was built of two small pieces from each of his parents, but Jedrek was the part he was focused on most. It was a name that meant strength, a goal he was to aspire to and fulfill in the name of his father. A goal, that he felt was unattainable at this particular juncture in his life. Sighing he lowered himself to the ground and stretched out, feeling the tickle of the grass beneath his nose and closing his eyes contentedly in the midday sun. How could he be strong when he really didn’t have any idea of who he actually was? The question of identity was one Jedrek often found himself devoting the most thought to, but today he was focused on how he was to achieve strength so as to live up to the name he was given. It was a good name, one that gave him pride and brought him just a little closer to his father. It was evident that he had seemed to be able to achieve great strength and success in his life at some point; otherwise he could not imagine why his sire would have given him the name. And it was true, Jedrek was physically strong, he was fast and could pull any weight placed upon his shoulders. But was physical strength all that mattered? Had his father possibly given him the name in hopes that he would be mentally strong unlike the greater half of his family? Had he perhaps given it to him to ward away the hereditary insanity that seemed to plague his mother’s bloodline? Or could it be that emotional strength was what was intended for him? Or possibly all of the above?! So many questions and no answers to provide him with the relief he so desperately sought out. With a grunt his typical uneasiness kicked in and he rolled himself to his feet in order to begin pacing. Though he knew the bloodlust would never plague him in the way it did his mother he knew it had a different type of grip on him, one that played tricks with his mind and battered his body. Had he already failed the mental strength test? Squeezing his eyes shut he continued to wear a path in the ground. What of his emotional state? He often complained about feeling he had no place where he felt he truly belonged among his family. Did he fail that too? An icy edge began gnawing at his stomach as he continued to puzzle on. Would he really be upset if he failed? He wasn’t sure. Nothing at this moment seemed certain, everything was just a large ball of confusion and lost identity. “Dammit…” He murmured.
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Posted: Mon Apr 01, 2013 1:41 pm
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