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+Sephiros Immortal+ Captain
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 Posted: Sat Jul 26, 2008 1:09 pm
.:Kalona Soquili:.
Colorist wanted: King Inversitle
Name of horse: Tiis
Owner: +Sephiros Immortal+
Gender: Male
Temper (one word for horse's personality): Fiendish
Breed: Kalona
Description (wing/horn/tail colors/eye color/hair color/hair style etc): Pink hair (edits described later) - It should be a lighter pink, like the lighter pink on the hair in the ref, black body that fades to pink down at his legs (see ref) with black tribal markings that reverse color opposite of his main coat. I got lazy, so the markings shown on his face in the ref should be all over. Eyes should be a glowy, vibrant blue, and his wings should be black/pink (the skin is pink) with black markings similar to what is on his body. Hooves should be silver, and cloven.
Reference image(s): http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y164/MandaGaia/tiisthing-1.jpg
Which stage you want them to start as?(basket,foal,or adult): Adult
Default accessory color(s)?: N/A
Tag frame color: Dark pink
Tag feather color: Black/pink
Hair/clothing edits (if any):
Hair - Long (like to his hooves long), appearing straight, but slightly tousled, as though stirred by the wind, with little braids all in it, the same for the tail.
Jewelry - All of it silver, but I'll leave design mostly up to you. He needs to have silver 'bracers' on his legs of some kind, though they should be purely ornamental in function, some sort of collar or necklace and perhaps silvery beading in his hair and a circlet of some kind. And I'd like some small part of his hair, near his ears to be swept up with decorative needles. yes. Needles.
Other-Expression also needs to be edited. xD He needs to look like he's happy about being so evil, and his horns should be black and sweep around like a ram's, though they should still maintain his 'girly kalona' look, so don't make them too thick.
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+Sephiros Immortal+ rolled 1 100-sided dice:
7
Total: 7 (1-100)
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Posted: Fri Aug 08, 2008 1:55 pm
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+Sephiros Immortal+ Captain
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+Sephiros Immortal+ rolled 1 100-sided dice:
25
Total: 25 (1-100)
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+Sephiros Immortal+ Captain
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Posted: Tue Aug 19, 2008 7:13 pm
"And it's like, every time I turn around..." emo "...I fall in love and find my heart face down..."
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Azure Desiderium generated a random number between
1 and 6 ...
4!
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Posted: Sat May 02, 2009 9:10 pm
UNCOMMON.:Edited Regular Soquili:. Name of horse: Phye'li Owner: o0 Sephiros Immortal 0o Gender: Female Temper : Personable Breed: SoA Cosplay Description (eye color/hair color/hair style etc): A dark brown with an appaloosa pattern and a white 'snippet' on her nose, black ears and stockings. See reference! :3 Reference image(s):http://i18.photobucket.com/albums/b135/BishounenFancier/SoA/phyeli.jpgWhich stage you want them to start as?: Adult Default accessory color(s)?: N/A Tag frame color: Brown Tag feather color: White and spotted Hair/clothing edits:Hair and mane - Long, brown and tousled, little braids and green beads and natural-colored feathers woven into it. Your choice really. Just a very natural look. Accessories - Beads the color of her eyes strung about her legs like bangles, and a healer's beaded bag about her neck by a leather cord. Most of this stuff is up to the colorist, so have fun on it. Price:
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Azure Desiderium generated a random number between
1 and 5 ...
3!
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Posted: Wed Jun 03, 2009 6:28 pm
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Azure Desiderium generated a random number between
1 and 5 ...
4!
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Posted: Wed Jun 03, 2009 6:29 pm
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Azure Desiderium generated a random number between
1 and 5 ...
4!
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Posted: Wed Jun 03, 2009 6:30 pm
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Azure Desiderium generated a random number between
1 and 5 ...
2!
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Posted: Wed Jun 03, 2009 6:31 pm
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Azure Desiderium generated a random number between
1 and 12 ...
4!
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Posted: Wed Jun 03, 2009 6:37 pm
1. Deep port metropolis
2. Wacky transdimensional portal
3. High fantasy castle
4. Glass labyrinth
5. Future fantasy tokyo
6. Cave
7. Desert Island
8. Zombie invasion
9. The same bed
10. Prison Cell
11. Treasure room
12. Vampiric cult center
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Azure Desiderium generated a random number between
1 and 3 ...
2!
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Posted: Wed Jun 03, 2009 6:40 pm
Imma Regular, Slot Please!Sephiros Immortalis ~ Rare Slot .:Regular/Kalona Crossbreed Soquili:. Colorist wanted: You Name of horse: Farqwen Morifaerion Owner: Sephiros Immortalis Gender: Male Temper: Facetious Breed: OC Cosplay Description (wing/horn/tail colors/eye color/hair color/hair style etc): Kalona Ram horns in silver (hooves are cloven, also in silver), kalona wing-style number three (wings should have similar patterns to those on the body, colorist's discretion), tail is the pre-made braided style. Also, the hoops from the trading shop should be in his ears in silver. Reference image(s): Colors/patterns of coat, hair and eyes, Which stage you want them to start as? Adult Default accessory color(s)?: Green/black Premade Tag Number: N/A Tag frame color (for custom tag): Black Tag feather color (for custom tag): Green/Black Tag BG (for custom tag): HereHair/clothing edits (if any): Hair edited to match this style (It's half-pulled back into a bun with a few locks escaping). Scarf in the color of this scarf/cape. Also, expression edit...smug smile with some Kalona fanglets visible. Price: 2 mil + 175k + 100k minor edits = 2.275 mil
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Posted: Sat Jun 20, 2009 9:36 pm
Name: Faust – for so he must be named, if indeed there was a damnation of such a character, mustn’t someone also bother to write a redemption?
Personality: Faust was born to be a cynic. And he might have been so, all told, but instead, by his very fantastical nature, was not allowed the luxury. Instead, he had to dwell in that most uncomfortable place between staunch disbelief and reluctant revelation.
Was he content in this? Contrarywise, he was most unhappy, desiring to put all his questions to rest, whilst in the same breath needing to ignore them utterly and be as contrary a creature as he might, aggravating and quite baffling the world about him. It was a lovely dream, but one that he would never quite attain, stuck firmly betwixt the white and black squares of cynicism and mysticism of the most childish sort.
It did not help, that once upon a time that he could not remember, someone had cut his head off. Such a complete job had they done of it that it had to be sewn back on. As such, his memories are rather muddled, and all he knows is an irrational terror of blades and, indeed, violence in general. He uses it as last resort, even with such fearsome claws as this form gifts to him. Preferring threat to action, he must use the idea of impending threat by which to keep the world at bay.
Sometimes, however, the memory causes breakdown, in which he panics, hyperventilates, and indeed weeps great tears of distress. For this he desires solace, but twould never seek it, for indeed, the bringer of comfort might hurt him in the end. To prevent his upsets, the Jabberwocky Hyte tries to stave off such with anger and irritation, and it has a moderate chance of success. Trusting few, Faust is an easily-shaken, and oft anti-social soul, though he does not mind the company of others so much as he lets on. Tis simply a very handsome wall created to ensure that his head remain firmly attached to his body…as much as a head sewn on once more can be.
-----------------------------
Author’s note: The first prompt takes place at adult stage, the second and third, at teen.
General Prompt: Your Jabberwocky has gotten himself lost in Wonderland[and/or]the Looking Glass World - write of his experience. [Feel free to use any elements/characters from this thread/HyTech/C*cktail.]
[ He knew better than to nap in the sun, truly he did, for it left his thoughts all helter-skelter with the muck of the freshly-awakened within his brain. It was a feeling that he desperately hated. For he liked to have his mind fully functioning, as it reminded him that it was still there, and if his mind and brain were still in place and working, then surely also was his head, and this was not all some dying dream of a decapitated creature.
Forcing himself off of the oh so very comfy recliner, taking heed not to damage the fabric with his claws (he’d gotten scolded too many a time for suchly), he then fumbled his way over to the bathroom. Upon arrival, he fussed with his hair for a moment, only to pause, brilliant eyes most frightfully wide. For he was sure, as certain as he was standing here, that he’d just seen a slightly familiar (or perhaps it was not familiar at all, such things played tricks on even the most alert of minds) white rabbit dart across the mirror. Not in front of it, no…but within it. How…very curious… Such a thing could surely not be, and if only to affirm his suspicions, Faust placed one hand on the mirror and pushed. Or at least, that had been the thought of it, and might have worked, had there been not a thing in the way of him and the world of the rabbit, and so he tumbled head over heels, quite a disgraceful mishap on his part. Cringing in anticipation of bashing his head on some mirror-counter, he was pleasantly surprised to discover that no such object was in his way…
…the free-fall did vex him a bit, however.
It was in this instant that the great peculiarity of the situation struck him as being most recognizable indeed. There had been a book on it, or two, perhaps, he did not remember, for it had been so very long since he had bothered himself with such tedious things as a rambling set of children’s books. “Written by a daft man, if memory serves…” He muttered, as joyous happenstance occurred, and he spread his great wings quite out of instinct…and his fall slowed. Darkness faded to reveal a pleasant green, with lush grass spreading in every direction under a flawless sky. Ah! But there, to the left, was a wood, a great, grand wood with towering trees. Now…had there been paths or monsters in the wood, he wondered, but could not remember. Damn him, but he ought to have paid better attention to that drivel about Wonderland.
It could not all be real, of that he was certain. For if it were real, then he might earnestly be in peril, and such a thought he could not afford, lest he find himself enamored of the ground and huddle to it like some lost, terrified child, going nowhere and finding no one, dwelling forever in this make-believe land of the curious and curiouser. That, and Faust had been gifted with the sort of detachment that often takes a body when they are confronted with the surreal…a wide-eyed wanderer in a world not his own. Or mayhap it was his own, since he was called by the name of Jabberwocky, and had not a poem from such a place as this told him of his supposed unfortunate demise?
Surely not, it was a ridiculous notion, and Faust chased it away with a growl, sending it running into the shadows. A good and proper motion on his part, as that was where such an idea belonged. If he was going to find his way back out of the Mirror-world or wherever the silly place he was, then he had to keep his wits about him, and that meant he had to bar all thoughts of separation from his head from his mind. Such anxious thoughts they were, and they nagged on until he had to find something else to occupy that space within his brain, else he’d go mad, if he was not mad already, for they said that such things happened to those who puzzled over such matters overlong – and that was without mentioning those persons who found themselves in such places as this, where everything was backwards. “And sideways and forwards, I shouldn’t wonder…” He mused to himself, trying to recall the book into whose pages he seemed to have been placed, pasted there haphazardly like a child’s favorite sticker.
Having already decided to head towards the wood, he stuck hands in pockets and sauntered forward, quite determined to get there, though he supposed, in this backwards world, that he had just as much chance of getting there going the opposite direction as not. It was, perhaps, this mindset which turned him right around, the woods seeming to move away from him in an elusive fashion, and one which he found quite tedious indeed. Scowling at the irksome wood, he then turned his back on it to try the second way. If it took him to it, then heavens be praised, but if not, it was no loss. “No loss, you hear?” He snapped, already on the verge of losing his temper, for it was better to be angry than to succumb to alarm.
And ho! What was this? But the wood came to him this time, inviting him inside with gently swaying boughs, and so conveniently before his feet, there were the beginnings of a path, delicately cobbled and stoned with tiny, glossy pebbles. So very many of the pretty things that Faust could almost have stood and watched them glitter, had he not been afraid of some great thing creeping up upon him in his admiration.
“A path is for walking, not for staring.” He reminded himself in a matter-of-fact tone, “And should be treated as such, for if someone stared at their feet instead of the way ahead they’d never get to anyplace at all.” And with this to console him, he started out along the way outlined by the wickedly shimmering rock, the wood becoming darker as he ventured further in. It should have been of no worry, as his eyes lit the way, but he knew for fairly certain that it was such a place as this in which he’d lost his head, if he’d really lost his head that is. ’And it had looked so very inviting too, what a very terrible place this is I’ve stumbled into…’ Faust lamented to himself, wishing instead that he’d meandered into the wood that he recalled from the book, the one where nothing had a name. It would be so very blissful not to think of himself as a monster for once, even if he couldn’t recall what anything should be called at all. How earnestly he wished to be rid of this place, for even the notion of reliving the violent separation of neck and torso caused his limbs to shake in quite an uncontrollable fashion.
It was about that time that Faust felt as though he was being observed, as if his thanatophobia was not cause enough for this dreadful, dreadful paranoia. Clawed hands balling themselves into fists, the sharpness of his talons as they pricked skin a small comfort to spur him further on, the Hyte turned suddenly, trying to catch his observer off-guard. There was, nevertheless, nothing there. Achingly slowly, he wrapped arms about himself, backing away against the nearest tree, for if his back was to the gnarled wood, then surely nothing could come at him that he couldn’t see. It was a relative safety, but better that than to be caught flat-footed in such a place as this. Shivering, the mark along his neck throbbing with phantom pains, Faust tried to soothe the beating of his heart as it tried to pitter-pat itself into an early grave.
It was appalling, really, for he was rather large, and an intimidating beastie, more fearsome in appearance than any Hyte he knew. But in this world, there might be bigger beasties still, and worst of all, dreadful, blade-wielding lummoxes after his head!
“You know…” A rather amused voice spoke from the silence of the wood, “If you remain that way, you shan’t ever get anywhere.~”
Startled, Faust let out a rather undignified sound of terror, rolling away from the tree to come up in a crouch…or at least, such was the idea, but in his fear it had proven a most ungainly motion, and for a few precious seconds, the Hyte was all tangled up in limbs and wings and tail. When finally he found himself in a position to look up at his eerie visitor, he was most astonished to discover, perched high upon a tree branch, a dark, lanky, cat-like creature with brilliant yellow eyes and a grin as wide as its face! In fact, there almost seemed to be more grin than anything at first glance.
Realizing that it had addressed him (why was this thing so very familiar anyhow?), Faust swallowed his initial upset, as it was clear that the Cat had no blades by which to behead him, and addressed the creature. “Well…no…I would suppose not, but neither will anything sneak up on me, you see.” As this was the first creature that he had actually met, Faust rather thought he could ask it for information, thus…it required a measure of civility that he would not have thought to use otherwise, for it seemed a most irksome beast. Anything that grinned that much, could clearly not be trusted.
“Ah, but neither shall you sneak up on it…” The Cat countered, grinning all the wider as it stretched out languidly, those glowing eyes going to half-mast in lazy contentment.
Ignoring the nonsensical comment, the Jabberwocky pressed on to the far more important matter. “Say, Cat…do you happen to know how I can get out of here? This…place I mean. I don’t belong here at all.”
“No?” That oh so delighted grin widened a fraction, “You look as though you do…with your eyes of flame and claws that catch.”
Wincing at the comparison, as it held naught but the most disturbing of accounts, Faust also decided to brush past that comment, “Perhaps I might, but more importantly…how can I leave this world? I fear if I remain here I shall go completely mad.”
Perhaps it was a poor choice of words, as the cat seized on them, “Everyone here is mad, of course. It is no wonder. You yourself are already mad, else you would not have found your way here.”
As disconcerting as that thought might be, Faust would not allow himself to dwell upon it, though he was swiftly losing his temper with this beastie. “Well it’s clear you’re not going to be any help. Who else might know the way from here?”
“The way? Well the Queen might know, you see, she knows a great many things. I say, do you play croquet?” A very slow blink of those lantern-eyes, and Faust found that the more he looked into them the more mesmerizing they became.
“Ah, no, not really.” Croquet? To his way of thinking, it was an impractical, foppish game for silly people. In fact, that was much how he viewed this entire adventure. Well…if you put aside the parts where he was mere seconds away from burrowing into the very ground to protect himself from unseen terrors.
“A shame. But you should really try the Queen…” The Cat responded airily.
“And where might I find the Queen?” Faust pressed, his irritation bleeding into his words, an emotion which quite drowned out his distress of before. Really, must everything this daft animal said be more confusing to puzzle out than a blasted rubix cube?
“Well…you should find the door if you go…that way…” There was a wave of one paw in the general direction of left.
“Door?” He echoed, quite flabbergasted. What sort of world was this where there were doors in the woods?
“Why yes…it should be open.” A calm response, that grin no less the wider for the Cat’s tone of voice.
“But where….” Faust broke off as the Cat very slowly began to fade off into thin air, melding with the shadows until it disappeared entire, the only thing left of it finally was a low thrum of self-indulgent laughter and a most mocking grin.
“Damn Cheshire.” The Hyte rumbled, moving to that tree, and after puzzling for a moment, came to a decision… Bunching hindquarters beneath him, he leapt upwards with a beat of his wings. Clawed hands caught in the bark of the tree, and pulling himself up onto that branch, he then reached over and hesitantly, as though to test the realness of it, tapped that hovering grin with his claws.
It proved to be quite solid, making soft ‘tink’ sounds with each tappity-tap of talons to teeth. Satisfied that it wasn’t going to fade away anytime soon, fiery eyes narrowed, and in a motion that was naught but sheer revenge for the Cat’s insulting manner, Faust curled fingers about that grin and yanked it clean out of the air.
With his prize, he descended from the tree, and was now in higher spirits, quite pleased with himself, all told. Examining the pilfered grin, he rather thought that it was not unlike a crescent moon when viewed by itself, though he was quite at a loss as to how all the teeth managed to stay together. “See now, Cat? I have stolen your grin…And if and when the Cheshire should decide to appear again…” He mused aloud, “Shall he appear without his grin where he was before? Or will he appear around his grin wherever I may take it?” Whichever the case might be, Faust was rather disgustingly pleased with his plan, and so headed off in the direction that the Cat had spoken of.
It had been such a terribly long time since he’d had contact with any of the stories into which he had found himself, and he rather wished that he could recall which Queen it was that had played croquet. For on one hand there was the rather tolerable, if not a bit patronizing queens of red and white, and then…there was the Queen of Hearts, and as Faust recalled, she had been a rather intolerable sort of person; with a fondness for decapitation, if memory served. Staunching the trembling in his fingers by clutching the stolen grin, finding its continued solidity rather consoling, he resolved to go on, for he could not go back, as to journey backwards might still take him forwards, and even if it didn’t do such a thing, it was likely to get him more lost than he was already.
“Besides.” He continued to himself aloud, “This is all likely some twisted figment of my imagination anyway, for such things cannot possibly exist.” The words, no matter how firm he attempted to make them, did not fall convincingly on his ears. For if this world could not exist, then by the rule of logic neither could he, and that was a very disconcerting thought indeed. “Perhaps the world is imagining me, and I am simply some fabrication of its imagination. Just how terrible and ironic a thing would that be…” Bemused by this quite absurd train of thought, he kept it in mind, that whichever it might be, one of the two of them was most certainly imaginary, and thus, one could not certainly lop the head from off the other. Right?
Meandering off towards the left, he soon enough came upon what appeared to be a most genial-seeming oak, and within that oak there was a door. The door was open, and beyond lay a welcoming green, and beyond that there was a garden teeming with rose bushes.
Approaching with not unwarranted caution, Faust was just moments from entering this very peculiar door, when a most curious figure scurried before him, a dark-haired being with long white ears, and clutched within his paws was a pocket-watch, which he was paying no small amount of attention to. The White Rabbit adjusted his waistcoat, and with a very concerned sort of sound, hopped through, worry written on a set of very handsome features. He seemed not to notice Faust at all, being a most preoccupied sort of person, and as he disappeared beyond the rose bushes, Faust could have sworn that he heard the other lament, “Oh dear I shall be so terribly late!”
“Well I do hope he isn’t so late as all that…” The Jabberwock Hyte muttered to himself, uneasily combing clawed digits through his tousled locks. “…or he’ll have a nervous breakdown that puts mine to shame with that attitude …” It was rather pleasing to know that he wasn’t the only one in the world who worked himself into a stew over things that others considered trivial. But Faust had a mission to accomplish, and he did rather doubt that the bespectacled bunny would be of any use to him whatsoever.
Stepping through the door (which required him to duck and tuck his wings in close, as he was quite tall and the door quite diminutive), he took stock of the surroundings which were indeed so very much greener and brighter on this side of the door, and turning about, Faust was only mildly surprised to find that he could not see the door at all.
Now, Faust was somewhat sure that he knew how to play croquet, even so ridiculous a game as he held it to be, but upon rounding the corner of one particularly prolific hedge of roses, he found himself face to face with the most bizarre game of croquet he had ever hoped to see. Players putting hedgehog-balls about the green with flamingo-mallets, and both sets of creatures seemed moderately baffled at the entire proceeding. There, in the midst of things, were people, seemingly made from a deck of cards, and courtiers of all shapes and sizes bustling about in a manner that was just short of utter pandemonium. In the center of this chaos was a woman in a massive ornate, frilly dress, a crown perched atop her raven locks. She held a most displeased expression on her face, and wielded her flamingo with unparalleled ferocity.
“Ah…seems I’ve found the queen…” Faust noted, though he was at a loss as to how to approach her amid so very much disorder. Well, might as well just…mingle. Ambling carefully towards the players, staying well away from the guards on the corners, whose axes seemed very nasty indeed (and rather made him wish to rethink this entire strategy) the Jabberwocky Hyte cupped hand to his mouth and shouted the first thing that came to his mind.
“Who’s winning?!”
A hushed and sudden silence swept over the green, and Faust rather wondered what it was that he had said, and as the entire royal party observed him, the eyes of the diminutive King grew very wide, and letting out a shrill, girlish scream, he fainted dead away.
Faust didn’t remember much of what happened after that, and as the entire force of waddling card-people descended on him with more speed than they ought, with someone parroting ‘Jabberwock! Jabberwock! Off with his head!’ at the top of their lungs. Such a great and inescapable terror descended over the Hyte at the sight of so very many waggling blades so very near that he was sure that he was to lose his head all over again. He became unable to breathe, swarmed with outraged courtiers, and with a cry of protest that, devoid of air, sounded much more like a squeak, black clouded the edges of his vision, and then eclipsed it entirely. Traitorous, traitorous lungs…
He was unsure how long he was out, trapped in blissful unconsciousness and wondrously ignorant of what was going on about him. When he did wake, however, he found himself propped up in a stand, in the center of what appeared to be court proceedings already well in progress. Finding his feet, and looking around for anything sharp in near proximity, he found none, and took a deep, soothing breathe before lending an ear to what was going on. What he heard caused his heart to skip a beat in dread, and Faust gnawed his lower lip until it bled in an attempt to maintain the vestiges of his calm.
"Off with his head!" Trumpeted the queen, her voice alone enough instrument to herald a thousand reckless charges. Finding it quite a clamor, Faust resisted the impulse to cover sensitive ears with his hands, as in this upside-down and backwards world, he was half-sure that it might have amplified the sound. Not willing to risk it, should he become deaf during the court proceedings in which his neck seemed to be at stake for the second time, he shifted nervously from one foot to the other, slowly altering his center of balance.
"But I am not the Jabberwock!" Was his indignant declaration, for certainly he could not be the beastie that this court accused, "For I have not been here but a few hours at best!" Stepped right through that blasted mirror he had! Stepped through it and into a Wonderland that should have best been left down that damned rabbit hole.
"Outrageous!" Scoffed a courtier, this one bedecked in so very many ribbons that it was a wonder to Faust that he didn't flutter off. "For certainly if you say you aren't, then you are, and hours is a very long time...if he had said years, now years, yes...we might have believed you."
Nonplussed, the Hyte managed to ask, "And how long is an hour?"
"You see! The beast even feigns he does not know so simple a thing as an hour!" This from the Knave, who still, despite his obvious theft of a tray of tarts, seemed to still be attached to his head. "For everyone knows that hours are made of thimbles!"
At the silent chorus of sage nods from the jury, Faust was nigh upon tearing his hair out. When quite suddenly, there was an unmistakable burble from behind the lot of them, and turning in the stands, both Faust and the crowd beheld a large creature, whiffling as it came on, eyes aflame and quite indescribable in its very nature. It had, however, a very pronounced (and quite unflattering) set of teeth, which reminded Faust of another fairytale entire, and he had to resist a wry exclamation of 'Why, grandmother, what big teeth you have!' even if it would have been delicious irony.
"JABBERWOCKY!!!" The shriek was quite deafening, and none knew from whence it came, only that their naming of the creature could be undeniable.
Turning eyes on one another, both mythical beastie and Hyte of the same strain regarded each other. There was silence for a moment, before the Jabberwock himself let out a fearsome bellow, and quite in reflex, Faust roared back, the sounds dreadfully similar in both tone and volume. And so astonished was he, that his knees gave out, and the hyte had to grasp the stand so tightly that his claws left indentations in the wood.
Realizing that he'd quite given himself away, Faust quickly turned to his accusers. Panicking at the thought of losing his head for the second time, he began to back away, limbs trembling in the onset of a violent chokehold of fear, only to be quite frozen in his place by another proclamation from the queen, who was so richly endowed with that vibrant set of lungs.
"They are alike! Alike they are and cannot both be Jabberwocky! Thus neither of them are the Jabberwock, and thus there is no case! Find me the man with vorpal blade and off shall go his head!" She shrieked, apparently quite bloodthirsty indeed this fine day.
"Contrarywise!" Thundered the king, who then munched another tart, reclaimed from the rather occupied knave, and with such stated (as no one knew what he meant anyway), the court seemed to dissipate quite all at once.
Confounded by this turn of events, Faust, with another puzzled glance at the larger and far more intimidating Jabberwock (who clearly was more fixated on acquiring himself one of those tarts just now, the scent of them the reason why the beast was here at all),wrinkled his nose, and came to a sudden revelation. "I am not you." He declared, "I am Alice. For I do not burble, and neither do I desire that tart with the very great passion that you seem to." And that being said, Faust then stumbled off to find his way back into the wood. It seemed a far safer place, despite the catless grins (as aforementioned grin had quite spirited itself away during all the commotion) and winding pathways.
Since he had reached the epiphany that he was not the formidable monster of the tulgey wook, well, then he had to find his way out of this place. This was not home, no more than Alice had been at home in this maddening world. Closing his eyes, for he had as much surety of reaching the wood that way as of getting anywhere, he walked frontward, unseeing, only three steps later to bump into a…tree? Opening fiery orbs, he let out a soft chuff of delight at having successfully distanced himself from the dreadful court and its deceptively alluring green.
“It’s no wonder you lost your head, you know…” came a voice conversationally, and Faust was somehow more or less comforted to look up and see a very familiar grin, no worse the wear for its trip about the woods with the Hyte, “…if you always take your strolls that way.”
“Hello, Cheshire-Puss.” He greeted reluctantly, arching a brow, “What words of wisdom do you have to impart to me today?” Honestly, he was more interested in vacating this world entire, but all he could remember from the story was of that little blond snippet of a girl shaking someone into a kitten, and that just wouldn’t do.
“Why I was just thinking…” The Cat began, “That surely your head must be very fond of you.”
“And why do you come to that conclusion? I should think that, instead of my head being fond of me, I am instead very fond of my head.” The Hyte countered with a sigh, far too stressed to continue his irritation with the babbling animal with any real level of animosity.
“Why no indeed, for it shows your head’s fondness that it found its way back to you, does it not?” He countered, that grin spreading further until Faust was quite sure that it would split the Cat’s head in two, being unable to contain so vast a smile. “Mayhap you should not be so worried for your head…it twill always find its way back…”
Faust snorted at that, brought almost to anger by the Cat’s ignorance, “You try having your head severed from the rest of you, and then see how you feel about it, eh?” A challenging leer in the other’s direction, mostly bravado as the Hyte was quite sure that the Cat would not try to attack him in the slightest, as it seemed quite the lazy, pacifistic animal.
“Oh you might try, but…” He crooned, as he began to vanish, “It’s terribly difficult, when one has only a head, you see…” And the head of the cat, now bereft of his body, bobbed once, twice, and then faded away entirely, its mirth ringing about the tree branches.
Disgusted with the entire affair, Faust reached up to rub the mark on his neck self-consciously, confirming that his head was still bosom buddies with the rest of him. Gods, but so simple a thing was so miraculous to him, as he was never truly sure which part was real and which false…the decapitation, the present, or both.
Turning on his heel, he resolved to make his way from the wood, or find himself some blasted kitten to shake…
…only to turn and realize he had an onlooker. The curious White Rabbit of before, though this time his dark eyes were placid as they observed him. Come to think, the bunny looked much like a Hyte that Faust had seen once or twice, a quiet, unobtrusive creature that most seemed fond of.
“Hello…” The Rabbit greeted, paws clasped before him so that he would not fuss at his waistcoat, the white digits seeming quite naked without his pocket watch, “Are you looking for the way?”
“If you mean the way from this place, then yes indeed.” Faust ventured, trying not to sound overeager. Oh but he would so very much like to be out of all of this insanity and back into the less obscene world of the real and unconfusing. “I…want to go home.” He murmured softly, a quiet confession to the one seemingly helpful soul he’d met, his wings pressing in close to his back in nervous anxiety.
“But Faust…if you want to go home you have to get up…” A voice explained, coming dimly from somewhere above him.
And opening his eyes, Faust found that he was splayed out upon the couch, surrounded by familiar faces. Quite mortified, the Jabberwocky realized that he’d drifted off upon the couch in the midst of Hybrid Technica itself, and that quite likely, he’d been murmuring in his sleep!
“Hulloa, Faust, what was that about shaking a kitten?” A teasing query came from a certain bright-eyed kitsune.
“No such.” Snapped Faust, expression turning sullen, and with a huff, he pushed past all the hands offering him assistance to rise, and headed towards home, and away from this new brand of madness.
Though he could not shake the persistent feeling of familiarity that eclipsed him when Maxwell flashed him a wide grin as he stalked past…
How very curious indeed. ]
Character Prompt: He launched himself through the air, reaching out, talons closing around the hilt of the blade… - hang on! With those *cough* traumatic memories of decapitation, the Jabberwocky hates to go near sharp edges of any kind. Just what drastic situation [that his razor-claws couldn't take care of] could have prompted this dramatic act?!
[ It was the going home that had gotten him so dreadfully turned around, he decided, shifting the brown paper bags full of slowly defrosting goods about in his arms. It wasn’t truly his fault that he’d been sent on an errand to the newest and most up and coming grocery store in town, a place to which he’d never been before. The going had turned out not to be so hard, but the coming back…now there was a puzzle, as he must have taken an incorrect turn or three, and now had no idea where he was. The back alleyways and gloomy corners upon which he’d found himself caused the young Hyte to break out into an uneasy sweat.
His mind alight with all sorts of morose thoughts of his own demise (all of them including separation of his head from his body at some point during the proceedings) Faust scurried on just a teensy bit faster in the hopes of glimpsing something even a touch familiar.
Faust was larger now, than he had been, his body filling out, legs longer, shoulders broadening with approaching adulthood, but he was not quite there. The slender youth was still in the throes of adolescence, and only his impressive extras made one desire to second-guess both his age and ability by which to take care of himself. They were, however, deceptive, for still within him was the shadow of that frightened, tiny child who vehemently denied the death he could remember whilst secretly nurturing that knowledge deep within his breast.
He’d spent much of his young life staunchly avoiding people, for when he did come into contact with other children his age, there were always those few that sought out his weakness, realizing it for what it was, and would taunt him to the point of tears, leaving the tiny Hyte curled up, wings huddled about his tiny frame, waiting with naught but his sobs for comfort until his guardian would come to soothe him, pick him up in her arms and try to chase away the nightmares caused by a lifetime that he could only remember the worst, most traumatizing bits of.
He was stronger now, because he had to be, lest his ever-present flaw be exploited to the benefit and enjoyment of others. The Jabberwocky Hyte would not hazard his neck for such small, frittering pleasures such as a social life or dating. Why anyone wanted another person that close to them put Faust at a complete loss. Such giddy fools prancing about with no thought for the harm they might cause the other in the future. It was a recipe for complete and total disaster, that’s what it was!
Keeping watch about the area with the sort of vigilance that only the most paranoid of creatures could maintain, Faust caught a flash of movement near the opening to an alleyway, and a high, keening cry of terror…and something that sounded suspiciously like a girl’s sobbing. His eyes so wide they might have been mistaken for a pair of flaming saucers, the green-haired teen scooted over to the other side of the street, whisking by quickly so as to not be caught up in whatever the quarrel might be. It was not with him, and he had no desire to make it so. Such ruffians that ran amuck in the streets these days…
And if it had not been for morbid curiosity that caused him to take a peek out of the corner of his eye as he passed, then Faust might never have been involved in the situation at all. But instead, he caught sight of the situation. Two men and a girl…the latter a tiny snip of a creature, teary-eyed and frightened…the former, well, one had a gun, nasty things, but none of Faust’s business. It was the second man, the fellow who actually had the lass pinned that truly caught his consideration.
The swarthy, beady-eyed mugger had a rather lengthy switchblade in his hand, the keen edge of which was pressed to the victim’s throat in a menacing manner. A blade…a knife…if it had been anything but that… if the girl had not seemed in perilous danger of losing her head (whether or not that fact was truly so), then the feat on Faust’s part would never have occurred at all.
It was action before thought, it had to be, for if he had taken even a split-second to think, he would not have done such a horrendously uncharacteristic thing, not in a thousand lifetimes. It was just something that should not be done, not ever, to anyone…a blade at someone’s neck, the terrible, traumatic memories of cutting, slicing pain, the villain having to use his blade once, twice, perhaps even thrice to sever the spine of so resilient a creature as the victim shuddered in indescribable agony, the last sound you would ever hear being the sickening crunch of bone and tendon…and then the horror of watching one’s own headless body as your eyes observed unblinking from a tumbling skull. Faust could prevent this decapitation from ever occurring, even as he had been unable to prevent his own.
He launched himself through the air, reaching out, talons closing around the hilt of the blade, and wrenching it from the man’s grasp, he flung it away as though it had burned him, letting out a sound more akin to a roar of some enraged beast than anything human. Standing at his full height, he had managed to wedge himself between the woman and her would-be attackers, his wings were spread fully and his eyes alight and blazing, making him seem, all-told, like some grand Angel of Death come for the wicked. Though even that seeming harbinger of demise would surely have been disgusted at these two scraps of humanity, for they were unkempt and smelled so terribly foul.
Both ruffians upon beholding Faust in all his wrathful glory, quickly forgot their weapons entirely, and pale-faced and frightened, the men turned and ran for their lives lest they find themselves on the wrong end of Faust’s rather fearsome claws. It was only once they had turned the corner, that sense returned to the Jabberwocky, and he found that he was weak in the knees, limbs turned to jelly by the audacity of the heroic act that he’d just performed.
The girl behind him then reminded him of her presence as she fumbled at his elbow, tiny fingers clutching at the towering male, “T-Thank you, sir…” She babbled, far too relieved to be afraid of him, “You…”
"That wasn't for you." He stated flatly, cutting her off, his tone belying the trembling of his broad shoulders, "It was for me..." And slowly, he released clenched fists, and forcing down the enormous lump in his throat, Faust turned and walked away, ne'er once looking back at the wide-eyed girl, less for the emotions she might invoke and more that he did not wish anyone to see the horror lurking in his burning gaze.
She still had her head, and in Faust's opinion, twas all that was needed. A win for a loss-- an even trade. ]
Carroll Prompt: The original Jabberwocky poem paints such a prejudiced picture of things - it's time to strike back! Write a poem in the style of the original, either from the Jabberwocky's perspective, or telling of his side of events [events may or may not be those of the original poem. e.g. You could do Jabberwocky (Goes Shopping), etc.]. Humpty Dumpty's brief analysis may aid you in this.
Faust would never have conceded if the brat had not been so very insistent! Insistent, in fact, the degree that the Jabberwocky could no longer ignore Amadeo’s pleas for the him to explain a couple of verses of the poem of his namesake. After all, he lived with the miniature terror, so there was no getting away from him. Shifting over to make room on the couch, which Faust had been most keen on hogging to himself for the entire afternoon, he snatched the book from the Clyte’s fingers, and running a finger down the page, stopped once he got to the second verse.
“Now, you’ve read the analysis of the first already, right? Because I’m not explaining it if you haven’t, you’re going to read it yourself, you hear?” And when the smaller bobbled his head in confirmation, Faust read aloud from the text before him.
‘Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jujub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!’
“Your jaws aren’t that scary.” Amadeo pointed out, “But I agree with him about the claws.” Bouncing a little in place, he squinted over Faust’s arm. “What’s a Jujub bird and a Bandersnatch?”
“A Jujub bird is a one-legged creature that is shaped much like an eggplant.” Faust mumbled, half making things up on the spot and half trying to recall from a fabricated lifetime before this one. It wouldn’t do to be seen as ignorant, now would it? “It eats people sometimes, if they get too close, but it sings a very pretty song.”
“Aaah. And a Bandersnatch?”
Oh of course, couldn’t forget the Bandersnatch. “It’s a distant cousin of mine. Like a Jabberwock…only with fur, and smaller…and it hums off-key.”
“Ouuuu.” Amadeo cooed, as though that made all the sense in the world. “What about the fifth verse…and by the way, did you really burble like it says in the fourth verse, I’ve never heard you burble…”
Grinding his teeth together as the fuse on his temper slowly burned away, Faust made a low noise of impatience, “No, I did not burble. I do not burble at all.” He stated firmly, so there was to be no mistake made about that.
Noting the very dangerous point that he was swiftly approaching, Amadeo decided to make this a brief session, and skipped right on down to his next important question. “So what’s a vorpal blade then?”
Taking in a deep breath, as this one took a bit of explaining, Faust thought for a moment, before going into some detail about the blade in question. “A vorpal blade is something like violets and also not unlike titanium. Also it is imbued with the essence of a thousand epic tales untold...making it particularly bloodthirsty and also very garrulous. Thus, the wielder is recommended to sate it with a constant feeding of peanut butter. Though it does little for its thirst for violence, it does, however, render it happily mute. The smacking of the stuff in its maw is a small price to pay for the comparative silence. That’s why, actually, it goes ‘snicker-snack’ in the fifth verse, for it’s not actually the sound of the Jabberwock losing his head, but of the blade being a damn nuisance as per usual. And that, Amadeo, is all I know about this poem, all right?”
Hoping that gust of information would quite sate his young inquisitor, Faust turned his glare to the Clyte, just waiting for him to attempt another question or five.
"And why don't you know the rest?" Amadeo persisted, dark eyes alight with what Faust could only assume must be the foolishness of youth.
"Why do you think?" Came the dry inquiry, the question meant to be a rhetorical one.
But wouldn't you know it? The pesky comments continued, as even the most rude of dismissals would not have driven the stubborn little Clyte from his side. "But didn't your head see it?" It was almost painful to smite that innocence, and the way his eyes shone with intense, and perhaps morbid, curiosity.
"No. No it didn't. And you're a very vicious-minded child for even considering such a possibility." Crossing arms over his chest, talons clacking in agitation, the Jabberwocky Hyte's eyes seemed to sizzle with impending ire. Should the bratling not get the hint, then a retelling of the poem might be in order, but this time it would be the Tale of the Bumbling Clyte, instead of one hapless, innocent Jabberwock.
With a grin so wide that Faust hoped Amadeo's face might split right in half, the tween shrugged. "Thank you for the tale anyway." A pause, "Are you SURE you didn't burble?"
"..." The silence that occurred then was so very dreadful, that one might have heard the creak of great wings as they extended behind Faust. And for a moment, he just might have been on the verge of truly burbling, whatever fearsome sound that might have been.
Amadeo, sensing his cue to galumph away, lest the other Hyte's claws do a very good impression of that fabled vorpal blade and snicker-snack HIS head off, turned and did just that. Waiting until he was far enough away to prevent imminent destruction should Faust try to pursue, he turned head over one shoulder, ears swiveling, "Thanks for the story!!!!"
With a rumble of disgust, Faust quite ignored the devilish imp, and running talons through evergreen hair, he decided that really, now that he'd finished the tale within his mind...he should truly pen it, for it seemed only fair, that if that oafish lump got a poem about slaying a Jabberwocky, then the Jabberwock himself should get at least a rhyme...why! Even a verse or three!
Not that anyone would ever see it, goodness no. This manxome foe would ne'er let his poetry see the light of any eyes but his own. But where to start? Mayhap he should leave hints of the old, as he always had been rather fond of that bit about the poor mome raths...
And so, hunting down a scrap of paper, Faust quite quickly, in that immature, teenage style of rhyme, penned down a few verses for his own satisfaction:
“Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
all mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
'O ware ye hiersome, Jabberwock!
Of kaerbund hume and gaverlous blade;
Though vorpal be its shiny tock,
Twill through death and vire be made.'
Heedless he went a-whiffling off,
Of wuxome council taken heed.
And came upon a kaerbund hume
who sought him in vitrous greed!
Said beamish boy of kellerilay,
'Burble, manxome beast! Burble you must
that my slaying be just and frabjous my day!'
And twards the hapless beast he thrust!
The Jabberwock in grand dismay
shook grandedious head in protest!
Slow was this noble, friendly beast;
Bastidious blade heard no prolilitest.
So by the Tumtum gree they met;
for passing stroll through tulgey wook
He met gaverlous blade!'Snicker-snack!'
The vorpal smacked and off his head it took.
Cousin Bandersnatch did shed a tear,
Jujub bird it mourned the offirsome day.
The tragedy of hiersome Jabberwock
and the villian who did slay.
Twas stilvet, and the slithy toves
Still did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
all a'mimsyfied were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.”
“And that…” He stated to himself, “Was how it really went…” Resisting the temptation to add in yet another verse about the mome raths outgrabing a dirge in the unfortunate Jabberwocky’s honor, the teenage Hyte instead crumpled up the poem and stuck it into the furthermost depths of his pocket.
If only he had known then what a surprise his mother was going to have on wash day.
Preference: [Jabberwocky, Jabberwocky, Jabberwocky =D ]
Author’s Note: I must say here that I have intensely enjoyed this event thus far, and thank you all very much for putting it together. That even if I don’t win, I won’t regret a moment I spent writing this entry. You all are such dears to host this shop and such contests, and please know that your efforts are appreciated to an extreme <3
-Seph
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Posted: Fri Sep 11, 2009 12:42 pm
Name: Farlest Morifaerion Stage: (Cub/Juvenile/Adolescent/Adult): Perma-adolescent Gender: Male Species: God Parents: Morifaer x ??? Offspring: N/A Domain: Sacred Bonds Have you cleared this domain with any existing god owners? If so, who? Should not interfere with any currently existing gods. Description: Colors should be silvery-whites/blacks/green. His not yet fully formed mane (But lots of hair <3) should be black, eyes a deep emerald green. I always picture him with that very expressive, almost sad look on his face like fu's 'Angu, though perhaps not quite that upset. Though I want the lips parted, almost sadly sympathetic look. His ears should be slender and pointed, much like Morifaer's, but not quite, more elegant, and there should be two silver studs in each. He should have two horns, much like Morifaer's, but longer, and that curve back slightly. His wings should be some strange hybrid of demonic and faery, design and colors up to you. I'd love for him to have a lot of celtic/gothic type jewelry, adding to his sense of elegance. Markings on his pelt ( the pelt itself should be black) should vaguely reckon back to Morifaer, be in black and silver ( I love glowy patterns), but otherwise they're up to you (Have fun with those, I love the things you guys come up with)...just make him pretty (perhaps have the lines 'slimmed down' a bit) <3 Also, I want his tail to be big and fluffy like the one on Zee's god, and the tail should be tipped in silver, in a gradient, versus just being tipped in it. But seriously! Just have fun, make him lovely, and feel free to take a bit of artistic license. Reference Image(s), if applicable:MorifaerHairExpressionTail exampleAre you an SoA god newbie? Newp.
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Azure Desiderium rolled 1 100-sided dice:
21
Total: 21 (1-100)
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Posted: Wed Feb 24, 2010 8:17 pm
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Azure Desiderium rolled 1 100-sided dice:
9
Total: 9 (1-100)
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Posted: Wed Feb 24, 2010 8:22 pm
You remind me of the babe~
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Azure Desiderium rolled 1 6-sided dice:
3
Total: 3 (1-6)
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Posted: Sat May 15, 2010 1:10 pm
1- Reincarnation
2- Angels/Demons
3- Naga-verse
4- Vampires (hurrhurr)
5- Gods (ohhell)
6- Deyyan (ohyesIjustdraggedthatout)
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