|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Wed Jul 29, 2009 1:09 am
((There is tweedle D and Dum but no one has requested them yet. I think it would be cool if the Tweedles were just one person, and they had split personality disorder. Both are absolutely nuts. They are the Queens henchmen. some characters I didn't list, but I figured if someone had a question they would ask. People are also free to make up a character for her side))
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Aug 01, 2009 12:20 pm
[[Totally going to post tonight. Have to have comcast out to fix the damn thing, that's the third time this week. Sorry for the delay]]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Aug 02, 2009 2:06 pm
» » » Q ueen || O f || H earts « « « -------------------------------------------------------E K A T E R I N AThe Blood Red Vixen╔══════════════════════╗
Guilded Tombs Do Worms Infold...
Had You Been as Wise as bold...
Young In Limbs In Judgment Old...
Your Answer Hath Not Been In scrolled...
Far You Well Your Suit is Cold...
╚══════════════════════╝ ▱ ▲▱ ▲▱ ▲▱ ▲▱ ▲▱ ▲▱ ▲▱ ▲▱ ▲▱ ▲▱ ▲▱ ▲▱ ▲▱ There was no need to cry, had she been anyone else, White's confession of desiring death would have brought any maiden to tears, burying her face deep into the cold awaiting embrace of her shaking hands. Ekaterina thought of a world without White, just to humor his immortal sense of dignity to all that which he felt was worthy of it. Was Wonderland better without the White Rabbit? Would Alive have found her way here on her own, destroying his home, following her curious carnal need to know all that is around her? Would he have stolen into her thorn encompassed keep, knelt in front of her, offering his services like a knight in shining armor confessing to the princess his undying love, his desire to protect her till his last haggard breath? Would he, of whom speaks in riddles and whispers, make her question her own loyalties and what lay silent of the pit of her shattered soul? Ekaterina could not understand why White was so intent on his death being by her mortal hand only, and just exactly what drove him to believe that it was indefinitely damned to be her that lays him down to eternal rest? Her mind attempted imagining what that tragic day may have been, in the end her hands were stained with arm crimson her corset practically drowned in the stuff, and White laying motionless on the cold ground. Her hands had been shaking, splatters of White’s life force splashed onto her cheek, the very knife that lay at her feet was now quivering in her porcelain hand. Conclusion, her dream self knelled to the floor, knees covered in a thin layer of rouge, begging for time to reverse that she had wrought. White did not answer, of course, his eyes as cold as a burning ember, so motionless, so beautiful. Ekaterina rid her own world of the only think that she could truly rely on.
That blade had come to rest just inches in front of her toes, the reflection glistening off of the vinyl material her high heels were comprised of. Hyperborean irises reflected the image like the first star exploding onto the midnight velvet canvas, long after the sun had gone to lay its world weary brow down to slumber. A shaking hand reached slowly towards the singing blade, bating her with the prospect of death and power in every inch her arm reached further in its direction. Once tucked neatly into her palm, Ekaterina brought the noisy thing to face level, watching her glacial features glimmer in the blade’s reflection. Her ebony hair was ruffled out of place from whence White pressured his body beside her own. For a moment she thought her heart had jolted back to life, to feel the warmth of another over her was almost calculatingly erotic. Ekaterina had fought against the desires of flesh that were in her grand design, it pained her to do so. In the absence of her husband, it would have been a relief from her loneliness and carnal needs, but where would that put White? In the mind frame to hate that of whom he served, or be forced to lie in a bed with a woman he most certainly hated, or could not formally involve himself in such a physical manner with Ekaterina due to the nature of her position. ‘Keep it safe.’ White announced, Ekaterina’s eyes trailed from the blade to his lips, watching the words pour out like water from the belly of a morning blossom after a sporadic downpour, but his voice was soft as thunder, her arm and the shiny metal fell to the side. Was White warning her of the thread he may have imposed in a possible future? Advising her on what to do to keep him doing that which he, at the moment, need not want to do? It was a conundrum. The Queen took another faltering step back at the very thought of losing his loyalty, and to lose White, would be the likes of which kept her on the thin thread of sanity. The darkness would break into her soul and tear the very fabric of her being in twine, harboring the thought of Wonderland in her mind, a vacant wasteland of nothingness, if that were ever to have happened.
“I promised you reward. I would gladly give you anything that you desire. So upon your death, what could you possibly pine for if I offer the world to you now?” But White continued to speak, Ekaterina was not entirely certain if her voice had carried at all, sometimes what she thought had happened and what had actually happened were two very different things. Just as she often imagined the world had been destroyed at her fingertips were still hot on the trigger, but upon further inspection of reality, her wandering mind failed her yet again. It was all wishful thinking. Curiosity had most certainly killed the cat, which we know to be true; however, wishful thinking forced the dog to suicide. The Queen guided her body towards the gilded mirror just above the fire place, glancing first at White and his calm expression as it reflected into her own sight. Having spent what little time they had in one another’s company during the hours before slumber, she was seeing White in an entirely different manner. There was an unfamiliar spark igniting in the frost that was her blood stream, able to feel her life force flowing through her for the first time in years. His soft, delicate features though calm and quiet were heavily maculated by the years of servitude spent destroying lives and creating chaos in her name. There was history lingering in that look of compassion towards his very own design, his aptitude for beauty was apparent by there was something evilly grotesque that Ekaterina had found alluring. Her cold eyes darted between their reflections and noticed that they stood at equals when it came to the darkness they had seen, that they had wrought, and found it almost comforting. In her mind her other selves broke the mirrors they had been trapped in, the sound of glass shattering off in the distance, and their heels sounded immediately after as they wobbled to Ekaterina’s true self, taking up paintbrushes immersed in black paint. They were behaving well for a pair that had disdain for the other’s metaphorical existence. Together, they painted over her reflection until nothing but her silhouette remained. Her eyes averted out of natural habit to avoid the horrors her mind could conjure, but the curiosity was fueled by her hate of these two creatures that bore no level of importance. Two red eyes peered out from beyond that black, and told her unspeakable horrors of what she should do; White would no longer have a frame if this creature got its way…
Truly alive? Ekaterina doubted that anyone on this planet had the right to boast such a stature. Not even God, but he had little to do with the matters of Wonderland. This was White, the Queen and the silent room that engulfed them in shadows. Nothing was going to interrupt this moment, not even her desire to exit stage left without so much as a glance behind in his favor, leaving him with the quiet that had always been as deafening as a sonic wave. As Queen, there were many perks, and not having to listen to the loud clamber of noise happened to be her favorite of all. The hand not gripping the blade touched the space between her bosoms where her heart was said to have resided. Nothing was there just a cold emanating like the condensation in a frigid wasteland. Was Ekaterina alive? Or was she merely the meager effort of darkness to break into this world and destroy it? Evil manifesting itself to rip apart every soul on the face of this planet? Either way she was torn between her duty to her ideals and the duty she had to herself. One was screaming at her to murder all life from White, take away his requisite, to choose his death and when it would come time to take it; the other was motioning her to secure White into her arms and express her gratitude. Either one was equally as confusing as the other, but had a strange control over her mind and body it was often hard to subjugate; allowing way for a fit of rage to erupt through her collective chemistry and all those poor souls around would face dire consequences. “Desire is the maiden of deception, dearest White. She will lead you to her bosom with prophesies of love and prospect true happiness…” Her alter selves had receded back into the darkness of her mind, along with their menacing painting on the mirror, her gaze had darted there just to assure herself that she was indeed crazy. It was all gone, for the time being. “She will kill you if you get a chance…”
The Queen watched White’s expression change from content pleasure to undecided contemplation. ‘What are you thinking?’ It was Ekaterina’s voice, not that of angel and demonic alter selves of whom she was willing to take off her own head just to be rid of. Was he plotting her demise, making each step as cold and precise as when he rend asunder those that she had listed to be let from this world? Perhaps he was calculating an inquisition that would allow him escape from this sordid moment. The Queen was accepting of that, it’s not as though they spent this kind of moment in one another’s company every day that passes. Most of his allotment had been depleted commencing her wishes without question, Ekaterina been frighten out of her seven senses, had she pressured him to complete any more of her bothersome tasks, he may as well have died by her hand after all. Though it would have been a more befitting eradication, the Harbinger of Death silent on the charred remains of his palace of blood and carnage, amongst those he had stripped of existence till there was nothing left but unbridled disquiet and a false sense triumph. Someone else could claim responsibility for his death, and Ekaterina would sleep suitably comfortably knowing that in life White had given her a reason to fight, and in death he would continue that reason. For whom so ever took the personage of her most loyal subject, would meet hell every inch of the earth they scrambled, Ekaterina would not rest until White could slumber quietly in his grave. The lovely black widow spider is feared by all, as she sits lifeless in her decadent web for the prospect of a future meal. One bite would inject enough poison to stop a heart from beating for a moment of time. Even the deadliest of creatures such as she have a purpose, protecting something gravely important. Ekaterina was that metaphor. Evil. Dark. Sinister. However, that did not void her of a crusade she deemed holy.
White was finished, after a elongated speech of devotion and death, which seemed to be the topics of their discussion, and left Ekaterina with a lot to ponder in the lonesome of her bedroom. Away from the mirror, she followed the trail towards White; the sound of her heels seemed almost ginger as she closed the gap between them. “Death will be yours to have once you have done something to deserve it. And as your sovereign, I demand that when the time calls for this hand to reign metallic hell upon your fleshy shell, that you have committed such a heinous act that it almost entices me test the measure of this blade.” The Queen was above him now, staring at the sharpened shard with a fiery curiosity, her pupils flickering open and closed much like a cat ready to attack, but it was then that she denied her carnal needs by forcing the blade between her breasts, disappearing into the folds of flesh and cloth. Bending at the knees, with one hand on her knee stabilizing her position, the other reached for his face and took it into her palm. “Do you remember the all familiar ring of my ancestors? All ways are the Queen’s ways. I shall decide if and when you die, and the manner in which it is suppose to be done. I will beckon the clouds to gray the skies on that day in your honor, so that I will not have to weep for the loss of my most favored servant. The rain shall echo your good graces with every droplet that reaches its final destination on the barren earth from which you shall make your final resting place. But as you have said, these are not the matters of the now.” Ekaterina relinquished her hold on White and made her silent excursion towards her bedroom.”For once, White, I am taking your advice, I shall care for myself by allowing my body to soak in a warm bath. Before you leave, dearest White, send a troop of guards to my door. You can never be too cautious these dark days.” And Ekaterina removed herself from White’s sight.
Bubbles surrounded her as she sat in her heart shaped tub. It had been built to fit several bodies, but none by Ekaterina’s had been. Her space was sacred and to be able to completely stretch out was a luxury she rarely endeavored. The silver blade that White had given her was stretched out across the edge of the tub, glistening in the candle light. No other light had been lit aside from the crimson candles that lined the floor of the bathroom. Rose petals made of exotic soap had been sprinkled across the face of the water, enticing her senses with the intoxicating scent of rose and lavender. Leaning against the back of the bathtub, Ekaterina took the blade into her hands and continued to examine it as if there had been some riddle to solve involving its make. “What so ever do you want, White. What is the reason for your compassion you estranged little man?” The blade stayed silent in her hand, however much she wished an answer would echo from its make. ▱ ▲▱ ▲▱ ▲▱ ▲▱ ▲▱ ▲▱ ▲▱ ▲▱ ▲▱ ▲▱ ▲▱▲▱▲▱ "If you like me, than I have done my job right, if you love me than I have done my job perfect. If you hate me... well, you can go off yourself..."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Aug 02, 2009 4:01 pm
 I'm late,
I'm late,
For a very important date.
“These dark days?” White strolled back to the entrance of the royal hall, gathering his robe about him with a faint smile. His pale skin glowed mysteriously in the firelight, as his fair hair shined dully. “Why my beautiful queen, these days are quite wonderful for a wretch such as I,” he murmured under his breath. As his eyes began to glint a bright azure, his body faded into a transparent ghost, gracefully drifting over the floor of the hall before disappearing completely.
A royal attendant sighed, and removed his ear from the cold, enameled door. The conversation was over, so it seemed. It was rather interesting, and the tale it would make would definitely earn the poor man a few rounds of ale in the castle tavern. Snickering to himself, the man sighed and turned away with a backwards glance. That queen of theirs, so… perplexing, she was. Clearly every man in the castle with a member to his name desired her, and yet they all feared for their lives when in her presence. This particular royal attendant had spent many a lonely evening with only his hand and images of the Queen’s perfect, snow white skin in his mind. He imagined her tied and bound to her throne, pale legs exposed as he— “Out for a stroll, are we?” The poor man started. When had the white demon left the audience chamber? Surely, had the ponderous doors opened, the noise would have alerted him? White leaned against a nearby pillar, examining his meticulous fingernails before dignifying the attendant with a faint smile. “It’s quite alright, my good fellow,” he got up from the pillar, and approached with a wink. “I know what you’re feeling, and I can sympathize. We’re both merely men, after all, eh?” The attendant relaxed. “Oh, thank goodness, your honor, I was afraid tha—“ White shushed him with a light finger on the man’s lips. “It’s quite alright. You don’t have to explain to me,” he leaned back and laughed brightly. “After all, in the end, we’re both just servants to that woman, eh?”
....
Slitting all their throats before the first one hit the ground, he stood breathing heavily, a lone figure against the pale moon above him. He had always felt this rush, this high, when his blade danced it’s mysterious dance, weaving between bodies like a pale spirit flickering with life. And life did he give it, his pale hands the hands of a musician, producing thrums of an ancient song that had been sung for as long as wars were fought. It gave him life, this song, and life did he give it in return, pledging his soul into the deadly strokes of his signature, signing the contract with every life taken, sending his soul further spiraling down into the depths of abandon while his blood rushed with joy. It could only be called so, a joy, at feeling the rhythm of life, of death, pulsing through his body. Merely a humble dynamo, White honored the power that he was bestowed upon by some fickle entity, paying his homage in the blood of the fallen. “In your honor, my queen,” my love, he murmured, bowing his head over the sprawled bodies of those that he had been making merry with just an instant before. Saluting the night sky above him, and the pale lady that graced him with her presence, White laughed softly. This, this joy, this frightening joy, was for which he lived.
Once again wiping the stains from his gleaming blade with that soft cloth he kept handy in his robe, White made his leisurely way back to the royal attendance chamber. Now empty, the throne upon which Ekaterina reigned seemed an empty mockery of the beauty of it’s owner, and White bowed his head in respect. She had retired, and had asked him find guards for her chamber. Little did she know, all but White would gladly slay her upon the opportunity. And so, White had never trusted that guard duty to any one of those traitors, rather taking it upon his own lonesome self day after day, night after night, never sleeping or rest, rather, drawing strength from the presence of his love. Upon her return, he would always reassure her that he had sent the guards away for their rest, but little did she know the true depth of his devotion. Making his way through a hidden doorway, White wandered the empty, cold hallways of the inner palace as he stopped before the royal bathing chamber. Hearing faint splashes of water inside, White smiled to himself, and sat his weary body by the entrance to the chamber within which Ekaterina bathed. Languidly running a callused hand through his sleek hair, White sat by himself in the darkness, his sole company his own thoughts. Why did he care about her so? Sometimes that knowledge eluded even White.
No time to say "Hello".
Goodbye.
I'm late, I'm late, I'm late.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Aug 02, 2009 5:31 pm
((I am very sad..I have no idea where my other peoples went..I am so sorry..))
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Aug 04, 2009 8:36 am
'Twas brilig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe.
All mimsy were the borogroves,
And the mome raths outgrabe  Cheshire had fallen asleep atop the vibrantly colored mushroom. It was but a mere cat nap and she was awake before long. She streched and such, as most cats do, and began to determine her next moves.. " Hmm, which palace should I go visit? Back to the Queen of Hearts, or to see Lady Lilliana...decisions, decisions...." She mused, pacing back and forth for minutes until she darted off without a warning, turning into the cat she loved to be. Running through the undergrowth of the forest, seeing all the talking flowers, it made her smile. Cheshire made her way to the palace, avoiding the gazes of others. Once she made it through the gates, she looked around, finding a window that was part of the throne room. Upon finding one, she climbed and jumped her way to it. It might have been shut, but she used her paws and pryed it genly open, squeezing through the small crack, she sat in the windowsill, perfoming her invisible act, not being seen by the naked eye. Cheshire looked around the room and found a familiar face, but didn't say a word, for all she knew, he had heard or saw the window open, and was aware she was there anyways . . . . `Well, then,' the Cat went on,
`you see, a dog growls when it's angry,
and wags its tail when it's pleased.
Now I growl when I'm pleased,
and wag my tail when I'm angry.
Therefore I'm mad.'"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Aug 04, 2009 3:50 pm
[[SMEXI: I believe this is the second time I'm going to have to tell you NOT to post before your profile has been ACCEPTED??]]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Aug 04, 2009 4:08 pm
I hadn't even received a pm from this person. As I am the creator of this rp I would have expected a pm, especially since I do believe it was mentioned in the first pages that I was to be pm'd the profiles and requests before that person could post....And if this has happened all ready then I'm afraid that I might have to ban you from this rp.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Aug 04, 2009 4:32 pm
[[it's happened before, Falling. And I was very clear the first time, that he had to wait until his pm'ed profile was accepted before posting. Very clear. In fact, the rp he tried to butt into was Tales of Basis. In this very guild. I'm moderately disappointed.
Post no. 100 btw! ^^ Which will all change when his post is deleted, I suppose...
]]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Aug 05, 2009 12:19 pm
I'll message our Hare, and if there is no activity in one week, inactive players will be deleted. And then we can look for new ones. I hate to ban Elesarin because I really love how she does it. I'm sure it's just something interfering
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Aug 05, 2009 2:41 pm
Delete your posts here please.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
