|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Wed May 24, 2006 3:25 pm
:::She tried not to be upset that Tarma was giving her odd looks. She still must not understand how different we are...:::
But before Cora could explain anything further, Tarma had faded away.
:::I wonder if she'll be back... And soon Cora poured herself some wine, and headed back to her room with her book:::
*Exit Cora*
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri May 26, 2006 1:22 pm
Janani fades in...half-way between nodding off and staying awake. Basically, her head is swaying up and down as it hovers above yet another book... Her WhiteRose is resting on her head.
((Ya know...I hope she never figures out where she knows me from.))
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon May 29, 2006 7:34 pm
Fading in, Janani is standing and pacing, only to be followed by the ploping of her WhiteRose falling. She stops as she hears that... That means...she's in the Brink, again. She blinks as she looks around, before bending down to pick up the cat plushie.
Strange timing, as usual...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon May 29, 2006 9:05 pm
Faint humming precedes the ebony haired woman as she materializes mid-stroke; she'd been grooming horses in the stable, evident from the straw in her damp hair, the dirt on her hands, and the wet mud smears on her clothes. Realizing she was no longer in the stables with a start, the woman grips the silver cross around her neck, the hand holding the brush falling to her side. With a fearful moan, she whispers to herself, closing her eyes.
"Bloody hell, its happened again..."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon May 29, 2006 9:12 pm
((Get on MSN woman! XD))
The self-proclaimed Archmage found himself in the Brink, having just been pushed forward by the rather forceful actions of an armed guard. While Torment didn't seem to be bound, he did seem to be out of sorts in the worst way. He stumbled into a chair, slamming a black cap of what appeared to be bone into the table the chair was near and let out a howl of pain. The black cap seemed to conveniently replace what would have been the ring and pinky finger of his right hand. He didn't notice Tarma, rather wrapped up in the throbbing that now flooded through his hand.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon May 29, 2006 9:23 pm
((Aye Sir. wink ))
"Saints preserve us!"
Falling back a step in shock, the womans cobalt eyes flew wide as they took in the sight of a man appearing out of thin air. The hand clutching the cross flew to the hilt of the sword at her hip, half-drawing it free of the scabbard.
"Who are you?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon May 29, 2006 10:05 pm
At first Torment was rather consumed in the line of explatives that began to spill from his lips, not all of them in english. When he finally calmed down he held the hand close to his chest, his eyes just barely bringing tears that he tried to blink away. He gave a halfhearted gaze to the woman, "I'm standing here bitching and moaning about my hand and all you can ******** do is ask who I am?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon May 29, 2006 10:16 pm
Mildly impressed with his cursing lexicon, the woman tilted her head to one side and arched a dark eyebrow. He was an odd looking fellow, obviously in great pain; whether it was a ploy to get her guard down, time alone would tell. Re-sheathing the sword with a sharp movement, Tarma placed one hand on her hip, the other still holding the curry brush, looking down her nose slightly at the man. If he was the one who'd brought her here, she was damn well going to give him a piece of her mind. A very sharp piece.
"I could care less about your hand boy-o, as it wasn't me who caused it, and it doesn't do a damn thing for me either way. All I want to know is if you are the one who keeps bringing me here and, if so, to tell you to bloody well leave me in peace! I've had enough of this galivanting around to strange places! I work for a living, I'll have you know...and this is a waste of my time! So send me back where I came you ******** wanker, or I'll slice off your bollocs and feed them to you!"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon May 29, 2006 10:27 pm
He let her say her fill as he leaned back against a chair, propping himself against it while he craddled his hand. He shook his head when she was done, "By what you've said, this isn't your first visit. No one given you the low down yet? Well, guess not, seeing as I doubt you're so stupid as to the explainations some of the people here give." His uninjured hand left the deformed appendage to flip a bit of hair from his eyes as he chuckled, "This here is not a waste of time, for it exists apart from it, this...Brink of Time. Nay, I wouldn't torment anyone with having to come here, it seems to do it on its own, putting its patrons back as if they'd never come. If I didn't hate the place, it'd be a great subject for a magical study. I'm attuned to the flow of time, and this place just...defies all logic."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon May 29, 2006 10:36 pm
"Oh God, he's mad too..."
With a groan of frustration, the damp woman sinks into a chair, tossing the curry brush across the room in her annoyance and pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes.
"That wench in the shiny boots gave me similar drivel...Cassa, or Cora, or something...Christ help me!"
Dragging a hand through wet, tangled hair, she managed to make it ever more of a mess; though, she did manage to dislodge a straw of hay, which she snapped in half in a gesture of temper.
"I don't know what witchcraft it is that makes me unaware of being brough here, but I tire of this game!"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon May 29, 2006 10:41 pm
Torment gave a slight chuckle, thouroughly amused, "So you've met the illustrious Cora Serenis then? I feel so sorry for you. If you'd rather leave, the door just beyond is your portal, a key made just for you on the rack beside it. Make sure not to let it hit you on the a** on the way out, wouldn't want to ruin that pretty little face of yours or upset your cheery disposition."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon May 29, 2006 10:50 pm
It seemed she was just desperate enough to take advice from a madman; standing quickly, she raced to the rack, finding the key of which he'd spoken. There was her name, engraved upon the tag; the sight sent a chill through her, though she couldn't explain why. Looking back at the man, she gave him the most impudent grin she could muster.
"I'd give you my most heartfelt gratitude, but that would require me to feel any. I doubt I shall, especially if this door is another of your tricks. Still..."
The impudence melted into mild amusement, and she offered the man a formal bow, elaborately and sweepingly executed with every ounce of court training obvious.
"It has been an interesting experiance conversing with you, whoever you are. I hope to do so again only under the circumstances that I run across you lolling in a muddy ditch somewhere, where someone with your manners belongs, and not in this God-forsaken place. Good day!"
Satisfied at having had the last word, Tarma fitted her key to the door, turned it in the lock, and disappeared through it, leaving the sound of the door slamming to echo in her wake.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon May 29, 2006 11:12 pm
Torment gave a shrug as she left, not really concerned with the way she stormed off and away. He wondered if everyone seemed to view the patrons of the Brink as insane upon arrival. He thought on that for a long while, absently craddling his damaged hand until he was eventually gone, back to Kansas...literally.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 02, 2006 9:27 pm
:::Cora enters from the guest room hallway, her hair is let down, and she is carrying an empty wine bottle, a plastic bag full of corks, and a couple books. She seems not to have any trouble carrying the bundle all at once, cradled under one arm:::
:::She casually seats herself at the bar, placing the items down:::
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 02, 2006 9:32 pm
:::She sets the bag of corks open, and grabs a handful. Cora turns her chin toward the area behind her and surveys it for a moment. Then, with as much force as she has at her disposal, Cora hurls the corks at triple digit mph rates:::
:::But before the handful gets too far away, she focuses deeply on them, and within a split second, almost without warning, they are stoped dead in the air, floating, very still:::
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
