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 Posted: Mon Apr 30, 2012 7:05 pm
I n f o r m a t i o n :: Name: Sigmund.
Gender: Male.
Date of Birth: 30th of April, 2012.
Dust/Essence: Seashell.
Stage: Child.
Personality: Calm, Curious, Stubborn.This is the journal of Sigmund and Lana. Follow all of their rules as well as the guild's rules and Gaia TOS.
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Posted: Mon Apr 30, 2012 7:20 pm
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Posted: Mon Apr 30, 2012 8:30 pm
F O O T P R I N T S ◗xxxxxxYour face is like the sun sinking into the ocean...FOOTPRINTS | SCULPTING SANDS | A BOTTLE FULL OF SEASHELLS
THE CURIOUS COLLECTOR | THE CURIOUS TREASURE | FLORA AND FAUNA
BEACH HOUSE | THE CONCH | SONGS FROM THE SHORE
TIME IN THE TIDES | SKILLS | TREASURE
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Posted: Mon Apr 30, 2012 9:10 pm
S C U L P T I N GxxS A N D S ◗xxxxxxLike watching flowers growing in fast motion...I am open for plotting and roleplay. PM. Owlied
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Posted: Mon Apr 30, 2012 9:23 pm
AxxB O T T L ExxF U L LxxO FxxS E A S H E L L S ◗xxxxxxAll your kisses I swallowed, brightened mornings and hollows...To locals, the haphazard shack on the dunes was considered abandoned. The rise and fall of the sun had lent an even, chalky white to it's cracking, yellowish paint. Surprisingly, these peeling curls weren't the most obvious testament to the high-rise cottage's disrepair. The door had been replaced with a bleached tapestry, strung up at the top two corners by push-pins and rope. Every gust of salty, sea-blown air tempted to render the swollen cords, but the blanket held fast, wavering proudly in the wind. The house was always silent. There was the occasional crashing of surf and calling gulls that echoed from within, but no human sounds to speak of. It had been this way for a long time. Early afternoon's light burned on, piercing through tartan shades to paint day colors across the stark shape of a girl's body. Slender and petite, her limbs quivered and stretched beneath thin sheets, toes peeking out to test the air.
The body was unsatisfied with the cold, abandoning it's wandering in favor of a well practiced fetal position. This was both comfortable and safe. Definitely preferable to the curious unknown beyond her bed. The girl stayed folded over for a long time. It wasn't until the Sun trailed from the headboard in favor of her face that the body arched towards the ceiling, resting on either forearm with a defeated sigh. She was awake, but not happily and long after sunrise. Lana hadn't woken with the Sun in months. Most days she wouldn't wake up at all, turning about in the swaddling arms of her quilt, eyes guessing the time by the length of her shadow on the wall. Although it sounded like depression, Lana hardly had the time to feel it. Waking hours were spent sipping wine at the window, waiting on lonesome records as they played her into the horizon. The days dragged on like this forever, but only when she ran out of bottles. Otherwise they were short and accommodating. At the end of the day, be it sunrise or sunset, Lana's bed was always waiting and as warm and cozy as ever.
Accommodating.
Wrapping itself in a mint-green throw, a frumpier version of Lana tip-toed across the cool wood floor to throw open heavy, woolen shades. Thicker fabric kept the light out, an absolute requirement for long-term sleeping. Lana treated this addiction to unconsciousness like an art. Among her required materials were blankets of any size, constant wood fires and a near endless supply of wine, the latter of which was dwindling rapidly. Two pale hands grasped outwardly for warmth and optimism but returned empty. The half bottle of port was not where she had left it. The frail thing pressed her palms to her cheeks to properly execute a long, drawn-out groan.
Shopping.
The very word was enough to make Lana sick. The thought of leaving her little hut very literally crumpled her to the floor. She sulked there for a moment, testing the hard wood against her mostly naked body. The temperature was sobering. Judging by the distance between her twisting shadow and the bathroom, it was barely noon. The sun was out. Tide was low. Shops were open. Damn it, there was no excuse not to go out. Just a few more minutes of writhing, flopping and sighing.
Dragging herself and her blanket, Lana turned up her nose at the shower and observed her sagging face in the bathroom mirror. Her color was gone, but those stubborn freckles were as obnoxious as ever. Each one of them served as a reminder of former expeditions across sandy, sunlit beaches. Even now the waves called to her. She heard them breaking over the black rocks just beyond her window.
"Fine. I'll go." Guiltily pulling on a white dress shirt, Lana abandoned the blanket where she stood. It didn't matter. There would be no one to bother with the mess but herself. Hands and knees led her to a dirty pair of leather shoes and dry sand fell from their open heels like a fine rain. Sea green eyes watched lazily as the trail tapered into nothing. A strange longing overcame her. Shoes weren't quite necessary today. She needed money. Rooting through the same bedside cupboard where most of her shoes had taken up residence, Lana found six forgotten single bills. It was enough for something warm and red.
Just one more pathetic lay about on the floor and Lana would give in to the longing.
She stepped into the sun with hesitance, thinning her eyes into tiny slits. She wasn't angry at the Sun, but it was obvious that they were in the middle of a long and tireless spat. Whether He was to blame for her disposition wasn't important. Lana had to be the 'bigger man' if she wanted for anything outside of her leaning house. Sluggish feet once again took to their toes, hopping gently from step to step, cautious of splinters and broken glass. Most of her bottles didn't make it to the sand. ◗◗◗ Town hadn't been the cluster of activity that Lana had been dreading. In fact it was downright dead for a Sunday. Nosy tourists loved Sundays on the seafront. Even the friendly young man at her usual liquor purveyor seemed disinterested in chatting and was Lana ever grateful for that. No more awkward a conversation existed than explaining how, once again, she was celebrating a promotion with a little party or having a date over for dinner. The locals must have assumed one of two things; Lana Sparrow was either a dedicated professional or a dedicated tart. Surely the shopkeeper knew that familiar act and considered her nothing more than a lush.
Maybe that's why he'd given her such a generous offer today. Pity. Along with her usual bottle of Cabernet came a box of mislabels and assorted bottles, some ornamental, some full and ready for drinking. Lana wasn't above handouts. The boy behind the counter had always treated her nicely. He'd even stopped asking about Rand.
She assumed he'd finally noticed the redness that came to her eyes whenever she replied.
Lana turned her eyes skyward, burning tears away before they had a chance to breed. She followed the lazy glide of a stray Seagull if only to take her mind off of the weight of the box in her arms. She hadn't bothered to look inside. Even if it were just a box of trash, she had one good bottle to see her through the next few days. It wouldn't be long before she'd need to find another job. With every step the crate jostled and jangled, conjuring a strange fog of nostalgia. A handful of cowrie shells dancing over one another like coins in a jar. It was the same sound.
Fighting back tears a second time, Lana turned instead to anger. All the time spent collecting them, and for what? So the bun-shaped shells could clutter up bottles on bathroom shelves and windowsills, a constant reminder of a silly childhood promise that was all for naught. It wouldn't be long before she'd settle into bed with lit candles and a bottle or two. She'd get good and drunk, round up all the cowrie shells in their oddly shaped bottles and take them in a bundle onto the wet sands. She'd throw them all into the ocean, or at least say she would. She'd make a big deal out of it, too. Then, like clockwork, the haze would settle and the anger would subside... she'd take the bundle in and every bottle would find it's place again.
This happened often.
Ashamed, Lana stared at her feet the rest of the walk home. ◗◗◗ "So, what have we here?" Like a child on Christmas morning, Lana rubbed her palms together. Comfortably cross-legged on the fading orange sofa in the living room with nothing but a wooden crate, and oh how excited she was! Although she couldn't find a smile at the moment, Lana was beaming. A green bottle with wax over it's cork screamed Bourbon. Perfect for a humid night. Right beside it sat a fat, square bottle, clear, filled to the brim with green liquid. Careful removal of the top nearly blinded her with the overwhelming scent of liquorice. A special find indeed! Just as Lana was beginning to think the clerk boy had a bit of a crush on her, she spotted the dud.
Garbage.
Lana lifted the rounded bottle, almost similar to a flask, in her shaking hands. It was cold to the touch, clammy, a bit gritty... as if she'd pulled it from the ocean, the strange bottle left her hands feeling moist and sticky. Without thinking, she brought the bottle close to her face and inhaled deeply. Crabs. It smelled just like a tide pool. How curious. Upon further inspection, Lana saw them. Seashells like watermarks in all different colors floating about the belly of the bottle. It had to be an optical illusion. Perhaps a hallucination from her liquid diet. The dark-haired woman pursed her lips, loosing a heavy sigh. The shells weren't fading. Was this supposed to be a gift? A joke, perhaps? The simplest explanation seemed the most accurate.
"What an idiot." Lana murmured, setting the strange object on her coffee table. It looked right at home there beside leather-bound books, sand dollars and stacked stones. After a short while, the girl smirked in approval. Her first sort of smile in days. "Lucky for you, I keep a very naturalistic house."
Lana abandoned the conversation for an alluring, claret bottle.
There was sleep to be sought.
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Posted: Mon Apr 30, 2012 9:34 pm
T H ExxC U R I O U SxxC O L L E C T O R ◗xxxxxxMy vines and tree knots will come unwound... [NAME Julianna Sparrow[MEANING "youthful; Jove's child"[NICKNAME(S) Lana[HEIGHT 5'2"[WEIGHT 110lbs[AGE 22[SIGN Aries[OCCUPATION Unemployed[MARITAL STATUS Single & Uninterested[ORIENTATION Heterosexual[APPEARANCE Lana is of average height and slightly under weight for a woman her age with faint curves and ashen, rose-tinted skin. She has mossy eyes and honey brown hair that waves to her shoulders in wispy, uneven lengths. Everything about her seems slightly off, from a nose that's just a touch too large to ears that are smaller than they ought to be. Adequate sun would lend a healthy bronze glow and plenty of freckles to her otherwise sallow skin but Lana favors a winter coloring. [LIKES Collecting Things • Bones, Shells & Stones • Sleeping[DISLIKES Coffee • Hot Weather • Chocolate[PERSONALITY ...[HISTORY ...
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Posted: Mon Apr 30, 2012 10:05 pm
T H ExxC U R I O U SxxT R E A S U R E ◗xxxxxxBaby you are my sunshine, my sunshine... [NAME Sigmund[MEANING "protector; victorious"[NICKNAME(S) Sig[STAGE Child[OCCUPATION Child[MARITAL STATUS Single[ORIENTATION Unknown[PERSONALITY xxxCHILD ↪ TEEN[color=white] ☑ - Complete
→ Journal entry regarding the growth of the bottle into a child
→ Complete at least 8 RP's, meeting at least 3 different Dusts or Guardians.
→ Write at least 2 solo's that focus on the development of your Dust.
→ Describe somewhere, either in your journal or in roleplay, the development of your Dust's skills.
→ Request and complete a growth quest.
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Posted: Mon Apr 30, 2012 10:23 pm
F L O R AxxA N DxxF A U N A ◗xxxxxxThe grounded fireflies are little stars that are dying...
[STAG ANTLER DUST and Niki
xxxxxxxxxxx◗◗◗◗◗ xxx◗◗◗◗◗
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Posted: Mon Apr 30, 2012 10:25 pm
B E A C HxxH O U S E ◗xxxxxxReturning to the Earth, I can hear them crying...
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Posted: Mon Apr 30, 2012 10:26 pm
T H ExxC O N C H ◗C H A P T E Rxx1 ◗ Bottle ↪ Dust Spin
[S] Sunshine
[S] Wish You Were Here
[S] See The Light
C H A P T E Rxx2 ◗ Dust Spin ↪ Child
[S] Comfort Me
[R] Weird Sisters
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Posted: Mon Apr 30, 2012 10:27 pm
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Posted: Mon Apr 30, 2012 10:28 pm
T I M ExxI NxxT H ExxT I D E S ◗xxxxxxBaby, you are my sunshine...[BOTTLE An odd trinket filled with shell fragments. [DUST SPIN The bottle is attracting critters. Yuck!
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Posted: Mon Apr 30, 2012 10:29 pm
S K I L L S ◗xxxxxxMy sunshine...
[MOTHER OF PEARL Defensive
xxxxxxxxxxx Power: ◗◗◗◗◗ Accuracy: —%
Sigmund's flesh becomes milky and iridescent as it gains a thin, glass-like layer of Nacre. This ability raises his resistance to physical attacks including but not limited to intense heat, freezing cold and piercing damage. Although sturdy, this second skin relies on Sigmund's ability to control his stress levels under pressure. An astounding amount of concentration and placidity is required to maintain a solid shell. The hardened flesh can become patchy and fragmented when Sigmund is frightened, angry or anxious. Overwhelming stress and lack of foresight will render this ability useless.
Method of Training: Prolonged Meditation
Shell Suppression (Defensive), Siphon (Heal/Support), Hinge (Offensive), Thermoregulate (Innate),
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Posted: Tue May 01, 2012 4:00 pm
T R E A S U R E ◗
xxxxxxPlease don't take my sunshine away...
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Posted: Tue May 01, 2012 4:10 pm
BP. Creator, Artist.
CHRYSTALI. Shop-Handler.
TOOAYA. Retired Artist
NAGURI. Retired Artist.
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