|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sun Sep 16, 2007 7:42 pm
Quote: Event Entry - o1/o2
Reference: Don't Freeze Your Scribbles!
Alex, Blue and Tsar find a floating ball of blue and red in the freezer.
Wait, WHAT?!
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Sep 16, 2007 7:44 pm
Guardian Journal Entry - o1/o2
Days Go By
I haven't written in this thing in ages. I'm not one to write things down to look at later, though...having a remarkable memory kinda makes the point moot. I guess pondering why I'm doing it now will only null the effort, so, bad Alex, just write!
Anyway. So Tsar found something in the freezer. Sounds like a bad child's story, but it's the truth; he calls it a scribble, and it looks like that, as best explained. It's a ball of what looks like blue and orangey crayola scribbles. Yeah, I said FREEZER. We don't know what it is, but Blue initially didn't want anything to do with it. Now the guy sleeps with the darn thing...I don't understand him half the time, but I love him all the same. Silly boys.
My personal opinion is that it's alive, and I don't mean in the sense of an animal; it's kinda got this weird texture to it, but it's responsive to things like temperature, tone and pitch of a voice and certain motions. Sure, it doesn't seem a lot more than a dog can do, but do dogs randomly appear in freezers? No. Humans and aliens don't either, but I'd be less surprised of that than a dog, y'know?
Well! Since it's obvious my train of thought isn't staying in one place, that's enough of a reaquaintance. I'll keep this updated - my 'Scribble Log - just for s'n'g's, if I can sneak into Blue's room without being held hostage.
Song: "Days Go By" - Dirty Vegas
Mood: biggrin - Optimistic
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 01, 2007 11:47 am
Event Entry - o2/o2
The Italian stared at the box of popsicles in her hand, fixated on it bewilderedly as though she'd never seen such a thing in the middle of a grocery store. After Tsar had thrown out all the food, Alex had been far too amused to be mad, and it was with much laughing that she found herself at the local market. She had all of Tsar and Blue's favorite foods already picked out with a few snacks for herself, but for some reason, she found herself wondering if she should pick up something for the newest addition to their family.
Green eyes shifted critically over the red, blue and white frozen treats, wondering if the scribble ate at all. She reasoned that it had to garner something from the cold, since they found it in their freezer, but it seemed to be just fine floating and keeping Blue company. Alex checked on it every now and again while Blue slept, and it seemed to be all right, as well as a floating ball of crayola mess could be.
She snorted her amusement, tossing the box into her cart before pushing onwards, turning the recent events over in her mind. Sure, things hadn't always been normal in the Falcone household, but she adored Blue and Tsar and wouldn't have had it any other way. Everything had been as 'normal' as their house could be before the scribble came, and since then, Blue had all but attached himself to it and Tsar was having some superstitious tirade about ghosts and spirits. Alex, herself, wasn't really bothered by the whole situation, deciding it was some manifest of magic. Of some sort. And while that normally would have sent her scurrying up a tree, she'd gotten used to being around some bits of magical usage since living with Blue.
Her gaze shifted back to the box of icy treats, her easy smile faltering just in the slightest. The scribble...had been somewhat warm. As though it were alive...as though it were hot enough to feel cold, or cold enough to burn. It had some red in it, but she didn't know anything about the floating ball to make sense of any of its characteristics. Alex felt a strange flutter in her chest, the type that usually came around when Blue was using magic (and how she could tell if he was lying if he said he wasn't) when she thought of the ball. It frustrated her that she knew so little, yet the thing was already accepted as an additional member of the family.
Alex, you think too much, she chided herself, exhaling through her teeth before her smile slipped back into place. She had to finish shopping and get home; she had some hungry men depending on her.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Oct 03, 2007 8:54 am
Guardian Journal Entry - o2/o2
It's A Craze!
GREAT. Just friggin' wonderful. Now Blue and Tsar have their little game of 'who the scribble likes more.' No amount of me telling them to put it in the middle and see who it moves towards works, because they know just as well as I do that the damn thing wont move! GAAAH, men!! Only they could make an ego trip out of a floating ball of scribbles!
I rarely get any time with the thing myself, although I don't find comfort in sitting there with it just...floating by me. I'm more interested in what it is, rather than the 'pet' opportunity it presents. As I write this, I keep watching it, wondering if those swirls are really moving or if it's my imagination, what it's purpose here is and what it is to begin with. I'm aware of it here, 'cause I keep catching myself humming at it like a child.
Now isn't that an interesting thought.
Anyway. I'm a chain choker short of throttling the brothers if they keep up their little ego-fest with the ball as the center of their struggle. I still think it's alive, and as any living thing, it shouldn't be exposed to such ridiculous games and mindless antics. It could be harmful or otherwise detrimental to--
Wo-ah Falcone, back up! When did you become a mother, huh?
Yeeaah, I've sufficiently creeped myself out, that's enough for one entry. Think I'll go make the boys some lunch.
Song: "How You Remind Me" - Nickelback
Mood: confused - Perplexed
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Oct 03, 2007 3:50 pm
Reverie to Oracle - Awakening
It was a slow and languid process, once of coming to being and existing; although it had existed as One, there was a disturbance, and diverging of wholeness that was splitting its world apart. It was a familiar feeling, like a sore memory of a mind that did not exist, one that hadn't truly bothered the orb but one that shook it all together. It had found itself intruiged, interested, shaping the form of its keepers, called into trying by an unusual and strange need. With this need came a question of what the need was, and with those answers came their seperation.
They. The One split, and became more.
It was aware of the one next to it, feeling its removal from its own self, experiencing sensastions it didn't understand or know how to deal with. It would have liked to have returned to the Oneness, away from the uncertainty, but it was too late to go back. It had made a decision, born of memories it could no longer recall, turning into the form of a humanoid without any knowledge of who it was or what it had been.
With the seperation came the division of all that was good and bad, and it felt a strange surge of reactions that were too overwhelming to act on; it had not known emotion in this life, nor thought, and to have it so much all of a sudden was pacifying. The chaos was not so strange, even as it was torn in two, finding himself and his other near by in the darkness.
And he was a male; of course, he didn't know, but it was part of the building block of who he was and would be, and he could no longer discount himself as a non-thinking and non-responsive entity. He was becoming his own self, and although he couldn't see the other, he knew his other half was near by.
Again, he found an irksome little question of why this had happened. Half of him felt cold, bereft, and the other an all-consuming warmth that he gravitated to. Why had the One became two? What had drawn them apart? He felt his other half, so near, feeling a tug on the corner of his conscious, a gentle lulling sound that he had followed. It sounded like a song, but he couldn't be sure, and he wouldn't know what a song was if he could see it. It was so dark...
He wanted to see, and so, he opened his eyes. The Oracle had awakened.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Oct 17, 2007 3:45 pm
Guardian Journal Entry - o1/o1
THIS. IS. SPARTA!
Ignore the title. I was originally going to call it "This is Madness," but that followed on the heels of it and made me laugh. I need to laugh, in a sane way, because I seriously think Blue or I - or both of us - are going mad.
The ball grew. That thing...now has a child inside of it! Not only does it have a child in it, but Blue see's a different one! He talks about a boy who is bundled in something furry with blue hair, but the boy I see is warm, with yellow and red hair and such a delicate gaze. He watches me, as Blue and I argue...I wonder if he can see Blue? But he watches me, and smiles when I look at him. Sometimes I think I see him waving, and sometimes it looks like he's...doing something. Like someone else is in there with him. But that IS madness, isn't it?
Like a floating ball with a child in it isn't frightening enough.
Tsar thinks we're both crazy, he can't see either of them. That unnerves me, because...Tsar is SO grounded, and so insightful, if he doesn't see it, then what IS it? Blue is magical, so is he right and I'm just mental? Or is he wrong because he's magical and I'm mundane? ...what if we're both right? My head is spinning with the possibilities.
I'm going to go spin myself to bed. This is madness.
Song: "Call Me, Call Me" - Steve Conte
Mood: dramallama - Crazy
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 06, 2007 3:45 pm
Oracle to Infant - The Change
He had been sung to and talked to, ever since he had taken their form. The woman whose siren call had lured him from his state of being often appeared before his eyes, smiling a little worriedly and talking to him in words he didn't immediately understand. There were others, but they were unimportant, as they often yelled or argued in each other's presence, and it made him feel weary. She, however, soothed him everytime they were alone. The incoherent babble was something he could listen to for hours and, on more than one occasion, did listen to for hours.
Eventually, the gibberish started to make sense. He could make out certain things she talked about, especially one that she repeated for him only; his name, she had said. Solomon, she had called him. He liked the name, feeling forgotten and lost fragments of warmth and the sun. She would often take him outside as she did yard work, or allow him to float with her on her morning jogs. He particuarly liked the sunrise, and she had come to recognize and acknowledge his own reactions; during the shared sunrise, pausing from her exercise, she'd often speak to him, the words unfamiliar although her voice lilted in fondness. Of course, he didn't understand anything more than the conversation piece in question was dear to the woman, and so he would listen with a happy smile, watching her and the sun. They were so similar, in his mind; bright, warm, ever present and dependable.
He did not like being with the man. It seemed the man did not see Solomon, only the other in the orb with him, one that he knew inside and out but did not share a name. The woman treated the other much of the same, but the boy was in such glee to be with her that he simply didn't care. It was not in his mentality or understanding to feel a loss of the other's dismissal; only when it pertained to him did he think of it, and even then, not for long. Being with the man was somewhat dull, and he slept during those times the most.
It was a warm day that Solomon found his orb being held gingerly against his woman's bosom. He could not feel her clothes, or her skin; he could not smell her nor hold her in return. It was the first time he'd ever known frustration, and it very nearly angered him to his core. She'd been singing again, and he felt a profound sense of loss that he could not understand, that he could not partake in her song. He had been listless that day, finding that he was not satisfied with the existance that he had once been so unquestioningly comfortable with. The presence of his other did little to improve the situation, as it seemed that the other, too, was not content. She had been concerned, watching Solomon, using his name to grab his attention; he would look at her with such sorrowful grey eyes, and a look would ripple over her features before she'd turn away. She didn't understand...and neither did he. The frustration grew. He wanted more; this could not be all there was.
It was that night that Solomon found himself and the other on an unyielding, cold floor, free of their bindings and far more lost than they were before. The infant, in all his surprise and dismay, cried.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Dec 31, 2007 8:10 am
Event Entry - o1/o4
Goes here.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Dec 31, 2007 8:13 am
Guardian Journal Entry - o1/o2
Maternal Instincts?
Goes here.
Song:
Mood:
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jul 30, 2008 3:09 pm
Quote: RP Event - o1/o2
Reference: And It Comes In Blue
Blue and Alex come to terms with the fact that they are now parents...or, at least, that having a child doesn't exactly make one a parent.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jul 30, 2008 3:10 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
