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 Posted: Fri Dec 01, 2006 8:25 am
The journal before you appears to be a shimmering light green color. The cover is smooth and soft, as if made from velvet. There are simplistic markings: just like those pseudo-eyes butterflies have to scare away birds. Upon closer investigation, you see a fine powder is on the cover. Don't touch it, it'll come off on your fingers.
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Posted: Fri Dec 01, 2006 8:30 am
04.10.07
Time has passed, and your Herald is becoming fond of you and beginning to show affection. You two have grown closer, but that's not the only aspect of growing.
The Herald is maturing into a young child before your eyes. No longer dying and weak and no longer sexless, it now has beautiful angel white hair and dark blue eyes of unusual depth. You may have noticed that the Herald has been scratching and touching its back for a while, and now it's finally explained. The herald's wings have started to grow in.
How do you deal with the child's discomfort? Do you have any remedies to ease it? How does he/she react? How do the wings reflect the item given?
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Posted: Fri Dec 01, 2006 2:22 pm
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Posted: Fri Dec 01, 2006 2:26 pm
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Posted: Fri Dec 01, 2006 2:28 pm
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Posted: Fri Dec 01, 2006 2:33 pm
[Aut.]
[image hopefully to come]
Name: Autumn
Age: 19
Date of Birth: December 16th
Appearance: Although she was always tall and thin, Autumn has grown even skinnier as of late from lack of eating. Her hair could be dark brown or could be red- it's impossible to tell, really- and often has various braids and beads threaded seemingly randomly throughout it. It's about chin-length in the front, framing her face, and shorter in the back, and curly. Her eyes are dark brown, but she wears purple contacts that don't quite hide their original colour. Over these, she wears thick-framed glasses. Her nails are disgustingly short from biting, and she wears three silver rings on each hand, connected to a silver bracelet on each wrist by thin pewter chains. She tends toward the odd and quirky, style-wise, and especially patchwork and elegant things.. although these days she doesn't really care what she's wearing. Her skin is fair, but marred by freckles. She rarely wears matching socks, when she wears socks at all.
(more to come)
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Posted: Mon Dec 04, 2006 7:12 pm
Most Recent Prompt 04.10.07
Time has passed, and your Herald is becoming fond of you and beginning to show affection. You two have grown closer, but that's not the only aspect of growing.
The Herald is maturing into a young child before your eyes. No longer dying and weak and no longer sexless, it now has beautiful angel white hair and dark blue eyes of unusual depth. You may have noticed that the Herald has been scratching and touching its back for a while, and now it's finally explained. The herald's wings have started to grow in.
How do you deal with the child's discomfort? Do you have any remedies to ease it? How does he/she react? How do the wings reflect the item given?
Response A cool cloth, a paste to calm the itching, a sigh when the scratching, scratching fingers return...and a strange, fine green dust on little shoulder blades, beneath little nails. A high-pitched whine and a child's pleading eyes. Mummy, make the itching stop. But no, Autumn couldn't..couldn't ease her moonchild's irritated skin, couldn't take that begging from her eyes. If there had been bite marks, she would have known what to do. If there was a rash...dry skin...she could have done something about it. But this fine, fine green dust was all that she could see, and no matter how many times she brushed it off, it always returned. She thought, once or twice, of paying a visit to the doctor--a venture out of the house, while harrowing, at least would soothe Erellyn's discomfort--but what doctor would take care of such a strange little girl? Perhaps it was some ailment from the heavens that Ere had fallen from.. ((Status: <3// Working~ ))
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Posted: Thu Feb 22, 2007 8:19 pm
[Photo Album] The fallen:  The rescued: 
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Posted: Mon Apr 09, 2007 5:53 pm
Prompt I 11.27.06
When you come upon the scene, it is a weak and dying Herald that you find, unable even to stand. A few scattered feathers on the ground are the only remnants of the wings it once possessed. It has come to this place to die...or be saved? That, of course, is up to you.
You are alone when you find the angel. The Heralds have long gone unsaved, and though it appears to you, it does not hold much hope of living on. Near to where the two of you meet rests a grey stone slab that the angel seems desperate to reach. With your help, the Herald climbs upon it, needing something from you to save its life. What will you choose to give it? And what significance does that item hold for you? Is it a family heirloom? Something you happened to have on hand? Something you'd purchased earlier that day? A lucky charm?
You may have noticed that many details have been left off. This is because we want you to have plenty of freedom to develop the scene yourself. Consider time of day, weather, season, etc. when you post.
Response O swear not by the moon, th'inconsistant moon,/
That monthly changes in her circle orb,/
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable..Ah, love's inconsistancies.. Autumn thought wistfully, eyes straying upward to gaze at the fullness of the harvest moon. However, in doing such a thing, she neglected to look where she was placing her foot and, with a very ungraceful squawk of alarm, lost her balance and toppled into the near-overflowing gutter. For several moments, she did little more than sit where she'd fallen, tears prickling at the insides of her eyelids as she inwardly gave a bitter chuckle at the irony of this uncontrolled action. Fate, it seemed, had a way of toying with her in the most unpleasant of manners.
How cruel Fate was to those who trusted it most..! Especially as of late, came the snide thought, accompanied by a dull (but painful) pang of regret that she'd come to identify with her most recent misfortune, one that she had, in a moment of melodrama, decided that she would never get over- though of course, she cringed at such a cliche statement. It bothered her quite a bit to see unoriginality in other people, she thought with a wry grin, picking herself up and making a face at the new runs in her stockings, and the bits of dry and crumbly leaves clinging to her skirt- but there she was, a contradiction and hypocrite, playing the part of the crestfallen widow.
Not, of course, that her love had died- oh, no, it was far worse than that. 'Sorry'- she never wanted to hear that word again, for she would always hear it ring with unwanted pity, and but a hint of scorn, damning her into pain and solitude. She didn't even want to go home, now. Not past the tree with the chipping-white-paint swinging chair, the doorframe, the kitchen still smelling of the uneaten meal her sister had made in an attempt to get her to eat something- none of it. It all sickened her, for she would be alone, there. Oh, not in physicality- of course not! Her sister was becoming almost a permenant fixture there, lately, right along with the fridge and washing machine. But yes, she was alone..in a way that made her feel like somebody had shot her in the chest with a grappling hook, closed the monsterous and rusty claws around her heart, and yanked it out- still beating, she sneered silently, and warm with the free-flowing red lifeblood, the hope that she'd willingly given. And...damn it all, she was crying again.
Somewhere, she'd lost one of her shoes (probably in the gutter), but she couldn't for the life of her be bothered to go back and look.
A maple leaf, still green, drifted sympathetically into the road before her, and for reasons even she didn't know, she rushed to pick it up, carefully fingering its slightly disformed shape. Summer was coming to a close, no matter how hard she tried to cling to it- soon the trees would all be bare, waving the bare bones of their tired fingers to the sky, as if crying for rescue. None would come for a long time...not until spring had mercy on it. Until then, the proud and once-leafy giants would recieve no comfort- only ever snowfall. She ought to take a walk amongst them, she suddenly (and a bit flippantly) decided, before winter came and it was too late. And so, she strayed from the fading-black tar of the road, over the mica-flaked and vaguely shining pavement of the sidewalk, and into the grass that came before the woods.
She shucked her other shoe, knowing that her stockings would now become horribly mangled-a waste, her sister would cluck, since they were new-but there was something oddly satisfying about that. As she entered past the first offensive of trees, a hush came over to her, and, for the first time since...well...in a long time, she relaxed. One of her hands rose to make out the pattern of the rough and gnarled bark of a stunted tree, overshadowed by its siblings...and blinked as another leaf fell from it- wait, no. On closer inspection, she found the dusty translucence of a luna moth, the moonlight quickly fading from its wings. Gently, gently she scooped the poor thing up and (in a moment of lunacy, she would snicker later) rushed to a patch of moonlight that was strong enough to pierce the screen of leafy oppression, raising it high in an offering to the goddess of the moon- and then, feeling horribly silly, she brought it back down, again. But for the first time in weeks, it seemed that luck was with her- at the moment that her eyes were cast heavenward, she stumbled once more, grumbling loudly at her gracelessness, and- ow!- bumped her head off of something hard. The moth, she was relieved to see, was still blearily twitching its antennae, so it seemed to still have some life in it yet- perhaps it was not dying, after all, but only stunned-...she stopped her analysis of the moth as she caught a glimpse of purest white from the corner of her eye, the dismayed thought that it had already snowed flashing fleetingly through her thoughts as she whirled around to inspect said..well, whiteness.
It was then that she decided that she was going insane.
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Posted: Thu May 24, 2007 4:00 pm
Prompt II 02.13.07
You sit inside, protected and comfortable as the weather rages outside. The evening meal is on the table, and you're filled with an intense feeling of well-being.
Your mind veers, against your will, to the dying creature that you had come across. It certainly wouldn?t be comfortable tonight. What are you thinking? It's probably already long gone. But...what if it isn't?
What's it actually like outside? Do you go in search of the Herald? What do you bring to make it more comfortable, if so? Do you even find it? Response Stark was the snowless, frozen field, the ground sealed and hardened and unforgiving of any intrusion upon its somber hibernation. Every colour seemed washed-out and weary, and the once-leafy giants of summertime now pointed accusing bony fingers in a trembling prayer to the apathetic and grey-swathed sky. 'Help us,' they pleaded to deafened ears, their pitiful creaking and groaning dismissed entirely, 'Warm us--save us--' Silence. A breath of wet-wind. And then, unexpectedly...a response came. KZZZSSSHHPPPP~~!Momentary euphoric clarity, and then ablaze with terrible mercy, the blackening chosen stumbled, staggered, and fell with a sizzle and a sickening thump. The tree-cries grew into a frenzied mourning-babble, and the dead-air pulsed with sudden energy. Tense silence, one, two, three..and then a chuckle from the very bowels of Heaven, low and ominous and forewarning. A small mortal quietly bowed her head in respectful acknowledgement, slipped on her gloves, and went indoors. The Storm approached. ~ Autumn took a wheezing breath as she stepped into the uncomfortable humid-wet heat of the house, glaring at the bowl of still-steaming pasta on the counter, no doubt chock-full of vegetables, and other such things. Things to bribe her into eating more than a mouthful of it. The note beside it proclaimed it as her sister's handiwork, although by now she knew better to hang around. With a sigh, Autumn shook her head wearily, slipping out of her leather-and-patchwork coat and draping it ceremoniously over the doorknob. She kicked off her shoes- an in-house rule that she had demanded from everybody, back when there were still people here with her...and kept even now that there was nobody to force her to do so, or to see her disobey. Routines kept her life from unraveling into nothing at all. As she padded over to the meal on the counter, a flash of silent lightning filled the room with alarming light, briefly illuminating the room, and she winced. The walls were stained from one of what her sister called her 'fits'...times when she couldn't stand to look at another human life, times when becoming a hermit seemed horribly tempting. Broken fragments of dishes and cups littered the floor, glittering miserably- tauntingly- as the light played over them, then fell silent and still once more. The rain began to fall, slowly at first, and then furiously, bombarding the pavement and rooftops and ground unrelentlessly. Autumn took a bite of the pasta, letting the familiarity of the spices- rosemary, onion salt, and something unidentifiable- take up the entirety of her senses. Then, she dumped it into the disposal, flipping the switch beneath the sink and staring dumbly as she listened to the grinding and growling of her meal being devoured. At least something in this house was alive and well, and had an appetite. She wondered if she'd ever be able to enjoy eating again. She staggered forward, pining for the the comfort of her down comforter and the lumpy, worn-out material of the sofa. Some storm long ago, there'd been laughter- she'd been drunk with the sound, the feel of soft hair beneath her fingertips- they'd dragged the couch into the office, where the best window in the house was. She tried not to look at the grooves left in the floor, dizzy with memory. Her eyes closed, her fingertips scant inches from the wall as she made her stumbling way forward. Blind. But not quite broken. For one reason or another, her mind flew to the poor creature in the woods, all those weeks-hours? months? - ago. She wondered if it had found shelter from the rain, an uneasy feeling beginning to tug at her. She regretted leaving it alone..but what could she do, now? There was no reason, no way to find it...unless it still was out there, in those woods. In the rain. It couldn't even seek sanctuary beneath the trees, now that they were all bare. Insanity. Why should she go find it? Because it would give her something to do other than wallow. Without meaning to, she was rather abruptly outside of the house once more, bare feet attracting dirt and pieces of grass, and freezing rain weaving into her hair and piercing her warm skin. She ran. She ran. She ran, and then there was wetness-not-rain on her cheeks, and she ran faster. Faster. She couldn't see the trees, and soon she was flying, the world one soggy streak as she went by it. She ran until her energy gave out, and she had to cling to the trunk of a tree and catch her breath. Somehow, she felt better, although she was panting from exertion, and trembling. And then, there were luminous eyes before hers, upside-down and seeming to reflect the world around them. Why had she gone looking for this thing again? With a startled squeak, Autumn skittered a bit away, another flash of lightning blinding her momentarily as she wheeled around to see- to see- well, the creature she'd found. The thing seemed to smile dazedly, and then it was in her arms, and she was struggling to keep it upright. The rain made it heavier, she thought absently, tucking it against her impulsively as it fell asleep or passed out again or something. With a sigh, she heaved it up into her arms and headed home, both relief and fear trickling coolly into her mind. It felt good to take care of something- somebody- ..and it wasn't like she could leave it out here to freeze to death, right?
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Posted: Tue Jan 01, 2008 7:45 pm
Puddle Jumping Type: ORP Title: Puddle Jumping. Participants: Anya, Erellyn, Mackerel. Status: Incomplete, but done. Link: Here.
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