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Plucked. - September, 1997 Blood Red Rose's disappearance Subject:  A Vigil Kept From:  Baghiira@aol.com (Baghiira) Date:  Thu,11 Sep 97 21:04:58 EDT :::The sound of motion outside the upper door of the earthen chamber lifts her head, hidden in the depths of shadows of the room... golden-green flares briefly and dims as her head again bows into the darkness:: ::Rose's disappearance had, of course, shaken her... but anger was battling back against despair as various acquaintances took on the air of mourning a death. Unsung dirges seeped from the dirt walls of the chamber, slithering across the floor to gather and pool at her bare feet, panting for release of sorrow. In response, ungloved fingers curled into fists, the tips of partially-extended claws digging into the bared flesh.:: ::Her lips pulled back in those cloaking shadows, baring small, even teeth.. and her voice, attempting a growl, crawled past her lips in a mangled whisper:: <vqw> Rose... is not.. dead. ::The words fell to the death-like quiet of the under-ground chamber, swallowed by the muffling dirt.. and a spattering of tiny syllables, wavering in that struggling whisper, soon experienced a similar consumption:: she can't be... Subject:  Reminiscence From:  Traevyn@aol.com (Traevyn) Date:  Thu,18 Sep 97 16:30:55 EDT The memories were in these walls, even after such a long time. Traevyn hadn't much to do while he was away save think about the time he spent here. Things were still quite clear to him.. memories most would have completely extinguished after the shortest amount of time. Now we walked through the doors leading here, the memories becoming much more relative and close. Footsteps carried him ever farther into Rose's past dwellings until he came upon a familiar sight.. the view of his old room. For quite a while, he stood in the doorway.. staring. Finally, the yound man moved, making his way to his old bed. He stood above it, looking at the sheets that seemed to remain just as he had left them and then, he dropped to a knee by the bed. With a hand, he roamed over the top of the bed, finally grasping his favorite toy.. the little Tickle-Me-Satan doll that had been a gift from his mother. There he had knelt and there he prayed.. only to her. In his mind, he knew there was no chance that he would ever see her again, but there was desperate hope that brought him here.. and with that desperate hope, he continued to kneel, clutching his doll tightly in one hand. Subject:  An Empty Rose Garden From:  Keiowere@aol.com (Keiowere) Date:  Thu,18 Sep 97 16:33:36 EDT ~Given proper nourishment...dreams will grow~ ::solid steps of sandals upon the harsh floor of her newest curiousity, the violet eyes scanned the surrounding area. The hallway had merely opened up a myriad of new ones and she had woven her way through them. Finally, a door at the final end of that string of the maze, seemed to beckon towards her. Almost mocking her look. A blink seemed to be the shutters need, the purple dissapeared:: *click* ::molten golden peered forth at the door almost wrinkling with displeasure at the magnetic pull it had on her body. Thin fingers prodded into the thick cloak and pulled up on the loose neckline of the dress, the other hand curling around the doorknob. Golden took a moment to notice that twisting the knob would prove unworthy as the door was already ajar. Swift steps landed her smack into the heavy wood, as the flesh of her cheek contacted, the face blinked in suprise. Apparently it wasn't going to be as easy as she thought. Bracing her feet against the stone floor, her body in an almost diagonal position as she strained against the door. Almost as though playing with the little one, the protesting wood suddenly gave way tossing the lithe form mercilessly on the stone steps that led down into what would appear to be a cellar. A tangle of sable ringlets and a slight moan parted from the heap on the steps. Dizziness abated, she pushed herself into a sitting position another grimace and whimper at the pain in her hip. The winding stairs however only managed to amplify the curiousity and she made herself stand and continue after pushing the door to. Silver light filled the room as her necklace shone briefly giving her eyes just enough to find a candle in a crystal holder along the wall. Convenient....now for fire. With the brief light gone, the overwhelming darkness took over, smothering the timid one relentlessly. Faltering steps lead her to a dusty dresser that she had seen in the brief light. Soft muttering curses filled the air as her toe stubbed against something another scraping sound following that. The lit match squealched the darkness for a split second before sizzling desprately to a close. Blinking back a yelp of frustration and anger as the flames licked at the tender flesh of her finger, she moved closer to the candle along the wall. Apparently the damp air had effected the life span of such an object therefore she had mere seconds to light the wick in hopes of some life. Four unsuccessful strikes later, a leap of flame was born and the grateful golden eyes squinted. Tossing carelessly the box back to the dresser, she picked the candle up using that instead to light the others. Once that job was finished, she finally looked around, gold glittering in awe at the delight she had stumbled upon. The backs of her legs touched something and with only the help of a hand, she pulled herself onto the wrought iron bed. Fingers trapsed along the jeweled crimson coverlet, pausing a minute to let her eyes soak in the spiderweb design of the footboard. The earthen walls gave a false notion of a should be musty smell, however the odor that greeted her was none other than that of roses. Moving back to the dresser, delicate fingers pryed from the surface, a long black cigarette holder and posed as though it were a natural thing for her to have. Giggling like a child doing something she ought not to, she turned to the other corner of the room, soaking in the wide variety of sights, though not much was left. Subject:  Re:An Empty Rose Garden From:  Keiowere@aol.com (Keiowere) Date:  Thu,18 Sep 97 16:34:16 EDT Attention reverted to a lambskin rug before a low alter, the black handle almost slipping from the stunned hands. Careful albeit fearful steps led her there and she knelt almost reflexively, the black object dropping from her fingers absently to the table. After respective moments at the makeshift altar, she turned with a heavy sough, glancing to the now wonderfully comfortable looking bed. The hesitant tarriance broken, she stumbled forward, pausing to peer curiously in a wooden basket just by her destination. A book was nestled beneath the long since dead roses, leaving behind nothing more than stems of thorns to hide it's treasure. Pushing through the thick brush, unmindful of the stinging bites that were awarded to her tender flesh, she pulled the book forth and curled up on the bed. Tugging her cloak about her protectively, the honey hued orbs traversed over the well worn cover before opening and beginning to read "Flowers of Evil". Deep breaths marred the girls steady breathing as she lapsed into a well needed, dreamless sleep, the book still clutched tightly within her fingers:: Subject:  An Encounter From:  Keiowere@aol.com (Keiowere) Date:  Fri,19 Sep 97 22:28:59 EDT ~to submit is weak....to dominate is power...both are ignorant and foolish~ The weave of air surrounded the little one alright...molten golden flew open in shock and suprise. Her tense body immediately understanding of her situation though her mind hadn't clicked just yet. Purple and jade flecks spun within the honey and she cried out in a small voice. The clutched book still bound within her fingers, she struggled to look about. In the dim half-light, pantherine golden-green levels a chill stare upon the bound one, bare arms crossed before leather-clad body. But then again, when was power never associated with that one? Power ridden through every movement, she waited. The girl on the bed heard rather than saw that movement, the molten honey twisted just enough to see that woman, the fear evident in her eyes. She asked, innocence as always ringing through in those gold. (v,vs)"what is going on?" (vs) "who are you?" The low tones of the leather clad's voice rumble into the deathly chills of a strangely husky purr. "'s a good question, kitten. What *is* goin' on? Well.. fer one.. yer trespassin'. An' fer two.. yer caught." Her voice drops, ice-caverns resounding in her purr. "An' 's fer who I am..." ::a nonchalant shrug followed:: "<q> I'm someone ya dun wanna piss off, kitten." Kitten...the words seemed to widen the golden orbs, the battle between jade and purple evident. Finally blinking, the woman's purr and words brought forth the decision. *click* Purple won over and her mien changed. Though still bound, her eyes stared blatantly back at her captor, the little once glared. The mellifluous voice not quite enough to demand attention more than respect, though neither in her present condition served anything. "kitten eh?.. I suppose I do owe an explanation, but I nae belie'e t'at I owe one when I can't 'ery well move now do I?" A pause...maybe to figure out her next words, maybe trying to assess the leather form in front of her. "and I 'ad no intention of "pissing" anyone off...merely looking for a place tae stay..." The smirk of a grin replaced that former fear filled face, probably not wise to whom it was directed to, and not the wisest in her condition, but then...when did the purple eyed one stop to think of politeness and situations? "...I suppose t'is is your place?.. " Then the little one got what she wanted. A reaction, though probably not one she was expecting. Baghiira's full lips curled into a smirk, and that quiet purr eased into a liquid chuckle. "Oh, luv.. ya'll answer what I want.. when I want.. an' where an' how I want." The violet lenses merely stared back at her, almost defiantly, though still, it did nothing for her. Roving eyes explored the leather clad one and she merely sat there watching, the returned smirk disdainful in it's own regard. The leather clad's smirk settled more fully to those lips; obviously, it was accustomed to being there. She leaned back on her heels, simply watching the girl with a quiet chuckle. "I c'n wait all night, luv." She grinned, an award winning grin that no doubt DaVinci would be proud of. Her shoulders, what could be moved with the presence of the One power, shrugged nonchalantly, proving just what her words confirmed. "I can tae lu'..." The last word said with such a mock reverance she even had to chuckle. And with that, Baghirra ignores the flout and shrugs. "Good. Then do so." Subject:  An Encounter pt 2 From:  Keiowere@aol.com (Keiowere) Date:  Fri,19 Sep 97 22:57:52 EDT Her next move is too pivot toward the door, testing, watching. The little one failed, and merely nods slightly straining against the bonds to get as comfortable as possible. The book tugged and twisted around trying to get a good view to the purple. The leather's next move is to pivot swiftly back, one hand swiping the book away.. the other hooking into a jutting elbow and sweeping the girl off the bed, onto the earthen floor. The sudden move to the floor was greeted with silence, refusing to make a sound for the leather clad powerful one. *click* Eyes squeezed shut and opened revealing the golden orbs. Fear etched across the face again and she cowered, the whimper breaking the silence of the room. Face hidden within the folds of her cloak as it settled, she trembled visibly. The whine almost unbearable to listen to if you hadn't the patience, or if you were soft hearted, had to reach forth and hug her. "..please...don't hurt me.." Unimpressed, Baghiira waits, she makes no further move toward the floor-spread one.. simply shrugs, simple words following that action as though it should be obvious. "'s long 's ya behave, luv." Sighing, she turned to lay upon the ground, shoulders shaking with silent tears and sobs. "..I'm just looking for a home. I didn't mean to bother anyone. Really. You have to believe me.." Her words were greeted by the others smile that borders upon sugar, mocking, tantalizing. "Sure I b'lieve ya, luv..." The golden glanced up to her, naively believing the smile and offered one of her own, timid and small through the tear stained cheeks. The following words offered with the sincere hopefulness. "so can I stay?.." One hand of the leather clad one disentangles a dangling collar from the clip at her waist.. and holds it up in plain view the suggestion obvious. "Sure, luv." Golden eyes widened at the sudden collar, confusion ringing at it and blinked, the cloak was tightened around her body protectively as the fear filled eyes again upturned to the one before her. "but..but..I didn't harm anything! I didn't even move much!.." The strangely wonderful smile dies as she looked down at the one on the ground. "Luv. Yer trespassin' on Consortium property.. an' yer in th' absolute *last* place ya should be. Tha' right there's enough fer me t' throw ya t' m' own pets." Her own face registered shock and sadness, knowing that indeed, she was in the battlefield, and not to achieve any ensuing wounds would be a miracle. The trusting face uplifted again, sable kissing the creamy cheeks as she probed the pantherine glare, her own expression searching for some sort of kindness. "..are you going to hurt me?.." The look was merely awarded with the gleam of golden-green as she lowers to an easy crouch, the collar dangling between loosely curled fingers... appraising the girl across the darkening space between them. "P'raps. P'raps not." The golden eyes swirled, the colors performing a rain of mist across the jewels and she tilted her head, trying to look as sweet and innocent as possible, her last shread of hope in being released. The mellifluous voice splintered through the bindings towards the leather clad one. (sw) "Please M'lady, I will leave... I didn't mean to upset you..." The corners of the lips tug toward a smirk again... that innocent facade not believed for a minute. <q> "Too late, pet." Subject:  An Encounter pt 3 From:  Keiowere@aol.com (Keiowere) Date:  Fri,19 Sep 97 23:01:01 EDT Pet...the word sliced through the air towards her and she perked, the mind snapping into overdrive with sudden thoughts. The slender fingers curled tightly around the silver ball at her neck and in a blinding flash of silvery liquid air, she dissapeared, a small ivory mouse sitting in her place. The furry little one scampered about the air pocket desprately searching for the seam of air to slip through. Cerulean bulbs of eyes, peeked through and a delicate squeak teasing just below audible was heard as the little claws scraped through and darted under the wrought iron bed. Baghiira's smile remains intact.. cat-and-mouse, of course, has always been her forte.. and she pivots, sauntering from the room. The wards.. remain intact, and attuned to the intruder's essence - not her form. The small pink nose peered out from underneath the crimson jeweled coverlet, offering a few squeaks as if to cuss her out bravely before scampering back into the safety of the shadows:: ::the predator gone, the seashell pink nose darted forth again, smelling as if the danger were that thick. Another squeak from under the crimson sprang forth and suddenly a sound thump and moan was heard. Slender fingers clutched to the earthen floor, dragging her form from under the bed. Soft curses flooded the still air before her:: (vs)"Always move out from where you are before transforming...oy" ::the golden sparkled across the room appraisingly before pulling herself into a sitting position to check the status of her body. The soft mournful tingle of the windchime anklet followed as her sandals were pulled free of the dusky air beneath the bed. The heavy cloak about her shoulders was in disarray and she shifted it as quickly as possible, her labored breathing easing as the adrenaline subsided, only to resettle as she pushed herself into a standing position before all out sprinting up the stairs. She knew she didn't have much time, and escape was a must. The door was four steps away...almost there...freedom almost an acrid taste in her mouth. Startlement had enough time to register in the honey orbs before the invisible wall of air halted her sudden flee. Again the sable flung as she slid down the stairs, angry and hurtful shrieks ensuing. Finally coming to a rest on the earthen floor which would seem to be the third time in twenty four hours that it had greeted her, another slow deep pain filled breath escaped.:: *click* Subject:  Plucked ... part the first. From:  BSmith3818@aol.com (BSmith3818) Date:  Sat,20 Sep 97 16:24:25 EDT To say that she had been careless of late was an understatement. Oh, Rose was never entirely unaware - the enhanced senses granted by her heritage saw to that - but when business got too hectic, or the nights were too long, it was not uncommon for her to leave a door unlocked, or to be in such haste to outrun the threatening dawn that she had no time to question the absence of her usual bodyguard at the entrance to her private chamber. Such was the case on the morning following the grisly, unexplained murders of two guards, their bodies found with jugulars severed on the front terrace of the estate. The night ensuing had been one long juggling act of business negotiations and diplomatic meetings, and the sky was already mottled with tangerine and orchid by the time the glossy toes of her patent leather shoes reflected the light of the threshold lamps once more. As she made her way down the centermost hallway, she clung to the few remaining shadows, her back pressed to the cool stone of the walls where need be, to avoid the malevolent shafts of sunlight pressing hard on her heels. The Byzantine door was unattended, but with daybreak already well underway, she had no choice but to slip the brass key up from the neckline of her suit, wedge it into the lock, and swing the entrance wide. The hinges creaked and groaned in protest, of course, all the more at the speed with which she rushed in, but even louder was the resounding *SLAM*, the reverberations of which could be felt throughout the entire estate, announcing most assuredly that Rose was home for the day, and as that solid thud sounded, a single ray of morning's beaming crawled up the surface of the door, outlining the intricate inlays of ivory in black walnut. At the other side of that door, Rose was captured still, a statue of frozen panic, her chin lifted resolutely, but quivering inside with the realization of how close she had come to becoming a pile of charred dust on the serpentine tile, never to be seen again. The molten emerald of her eyes swam with the black tides of terror, and her throat was constricted and dry as the desert floor, allowing no sound to escape, not even the silken sigh of relief that she fought so desperately to allow herself. But as the moments passed, and her gloved hand rose at last, to caress the cold stone at the top of the staircase, brief light returned once more to her gaze, a reflection of her impending weariness more than anything else. The tension in her shoulders eased, and with one hand still carefully braced against the stone, she began her descent down the spiral that would lead to her repose. Stiletto heels clicked an impatient cadence, silver chains giggled merrily, like chimes in a breeze, and the candles in her tomb crackled to life, all the sounds in concert creating an ominously peaceful welcome, a requiem call that only stirred her anxiety anew... perhaps it was only her close call at the hands of the deadly sun... perhaps it was the way the ever-present draft in this chamber howled, its mournful whisper seeming to call to life the unholy spirits of a thousand former denizens of this blasphemous ground... No matter. The call of her bed was stronger, far stronger than the chill that ran through her, causing her already cold blood to shiver for the briefest of moments, as she made her way towards the promise of much-needed rest. Subject:  Re:Plucked ... part the first. From:  BSmith3818@aol.com (BSmith3818) Date:  Sat,20 Sep 97 16:25:02 EDT Pausing only long enough to kick her shoes off and nudge them carelessly to the side, and to drop her belt in a jangling heap on the floor, she dove towards her cushions and furs, parting them to reach the rough comfort of her jewelled coverlet. With a low groan of rapture, she rolled to her back, gloved hands flexing, kneading, like the paws of a kitten, against the gemstones and embroidery. Her spine arched the slightest bit, bringing the swell of her bosom to strain against the thin coating of candy-apple latex, and she thrust her head back into the pillows, sending the cascade of curls writhing like flaming serpents as she tossed and turned. Still gloved, still clad in the slick red suit and caged in the heavy wrap of her cincher, she allowed her eyes to drift closed at last, and as the first crows of the cock sounded somewhere in the distance, Blood Red Rose succumbed to the unyielding bonds of sleep. Subject:  Plucked ... the sequel. From:  BSmith3818@aol.com (BSmith3818) Date:  Sat,20 Sep 97 16:25:51 EDT On kitten's feet they came, two cloaked figures, their faces swathed in black silk with holes for sight and breathing. Their tread across the rugs on the chamber floor might have disturbed lighter ears, but for Rose, captured in the netherland of sleep, the world was a silent void... With nervously darting eyes and twitching fingertips, the intruders circled the bed, hovering over Rose's sleeping form like a pair of predatory birds. If she sensed their presence, she showed no sign of it... she might have been a mere ornament, a statuary decoration carved for the top of a sarcophagus, for all the movement she offered. No breath issued from between those pouting lips, no amount of blush tinged her pallor, her eyelids did not tremble with the rollicking chase of dreams... Dead she appeared, for indeed, dead she was, the only stirring being that of the shadows as they waltzed over the gloss of her suit... Swimming in their black trenchcoats, with black felt fedoras shoved firmly down over their crowns, the two kidnappers closely resembled crows whose bills had been rudely snapped away, and as they approached ever nearer to her sleeping form, fingers twiddling in eager anticipation, they took on the countenance and manner of a pair of fiendish insects, about to snap up their prey. A glance from one to the other was the silent signal, and while one withdrew what appeared to be a flimsy square of rubber from the inner folds of his coat, the other tugged a large jewel-encrusted crucifix from his pocket, holding it at the ready, should she show any signs of waking. The other fellow, keeping one watchful eye on his partner, began to unfold the rubber parcel with careful and deliberate fingers, to minimize any potential squeaking. Fold after fold, the square increased in size, until at last it was extended to its full length, and it became apparent that the object was actually some sort of inflatable cushion. With another brief glance to his mate, who was still wielding the cross in silent warning over Rose's forehead, he laid the rubber mat down across the bed beside her, and reached once more to the inside of his coat. This time, what appeared was a long, cylindrical bottle, of clear plastic and filled to the neck with water, along with a thin latex hose. In a matter of seconds, one end of the tube was inserted through the plug on the rubber mat, the other end stretched over the now open mouth of the bottle. Tilting the bottle up, he began the tortuous process of filling the mat. The water dripped down with all the hurry of medication feeding through an IV tube, and in wary silence, the pair waited, each stealing glances at the sleeping Rose, starting at the slightest gurgle from the water bottle, until at the end of their long wait, both were so unsettled that the very whisper of their own breathing caused the one with the crucifix to stumble, and he slipped forward, bringing the cross to within a hair's breadth of searing into Rose's unprotected porcelain skin before catching himself and drawing back. But at last, the mattress was filled, certainly not to capacity, but at least enough to provide a thin cushion of continually moving water. While the one intruder swiftly detached the apparatus and sealed the mattress, the other looked on with hesitant eyes and at last brought the chain in his hands up, to drop it around his neck and let the crucifix fall pendant against his own chest. The time was at hand. The act would have to be executed swiftly, or the attempt would not be successful at all. Gloved hands flexing, the two stared across the bed at each other, until one nodded, and then they swooped into action. One wrapped his hands around her feet, binding them as best he could, and the other tugged at her upper arm, pulling her towards the mat. Subject:  Re:Plucked ... the sequel. From:  BSmith3818@aol.com (BSmith3818) Date:  Sat,20 Sep 97 16:26:34 EDT In that moment, Rose's eyes snapped open at last, and her lips parted, but the banshee's wail of alarm that welled up in her throat was caught short, and choked back, stilled, as was all of her motion paralyzed, as her curvature molded itself to the gel-like cushion of water... moving water... Screaming somewhere in the depths of her mind was the realization of what was happening to her, but she was powerless to stop the kidnappers as they lifted the respective ends of the mat, and behind the frozen glass marbles of her eyes, terror ripped through her at the sight of earthen ceiling passing overhead in lazy progress. She recognized the path - she was being carried from her own chamber, back through the room that had once been her son's. At the far wall of that sanctum, the kidnappers paused, and Rose heard the sound of a makeshift door being pulled aside on crude hinges... She was helpless against her amazement as she began to understand where they were taking her... a tunnel, burrowed through the far wall of Traevyn's old room, scantily lit with a few guttering torches, and braced with rough-hewn beams, obviously thrown up in a hurry... and who knew where it would lead - most likely to the catacombs beneath the estate, but after that... ----------------------------- As her body was moved from the room, her very essence dissipating from the confines of the earthen walls, the candles began to flicker out one by one, and the chamber was pitched into utter darkness... and all that was left to indicate that she had ever been there was the faint scent of roses, and a few scarlet petals left floating in the draft at the far edge of Traevyn's room, where the wall appeared undisturbed, no seam of a door, no traces of any sort of entry, save a brief disturbance in the dust... Subject:  Plucked ... chapter three. From:  BSmith3818@aol.com (BSmith3818) Date:  Sat,20 Sep 97 16:27:23 EDT A dizzying array of spots and streaks dapple the surface of an otherwise black pool, giving the rippling ink the appearance of stained glass distorted by the shadows of night. The pool itself stretches some thirty feet in diameter, and rimming the perfect circle is a lip of glazed black tiles that glisten with the moisture of every gently lapping wave. All the way around the perimeter is a walkway, some three feet deep, dotted by the occasional ficus, the only sign of life in the otherwise sterile, albeit frigidly elegant, landscape of this cavernous room. To the sides and overhead, a rounded ceiling hewn from the surrounding charcoal limestone caps the chamber, and dripping from the apex of the dome, like so many rivulets of melted glass infused with fairy magic, is an elaborate crystal chandalier, its prisms swaying almost imperceptibly, tinkling in the faint breeze that seems to watch over the room. Also secured to the center of that ceiling is a set of four hooks, forming a rectangle with their placement and supporting thick steel chains that fall just to the outside of the chandelier on their progress towards the water. Where the chains end is fastened a mahogany plank, suspended just inches from the surface of that barely stirring pool - and this platform is precisely the shape and size of the glass casket it holds. The coffin is shaped like a long cut gem, its facets jointed with silver, its surface etched with all manner of cherubs and flowers and Baroque flourishes, so much so that the outlines of what it holds are only barely discernable. There are black cushions, of course, glossy and stark against the frosted outlines of the engraving, and what might be an ivory mannequin, the figure of a woman preserved in all her naked glory atop this bed of shimmering satin. Her bared curves are surrounded by and strewn with the blooms of dozens of scarlet roses that scream like open wounds against the alabaster of her skin - she almost seems to embrace a bouquet of the namesake flowers, as her forearms rise just under milky-white orbs, crossing at the wrists and resting peacefully beneath a cascade of the blood-hued blossoms. A single elliptical break in the etchings, at the top end of this crystalline display case, is the only place where the glass is unblemished by filigree. Framed in a wreath of beveled laurel leaves, the oval offers a clear view of the woman's face... it is regal perfection, every curve and angle molded of the same seamless porcelain... the eyelids, unstirring, are closed and weighted with two delicate crimson rose petals, the edges of which hint at the fringe of sable lashes peeking from beneath, and the cruel peaks of brows arching above... lips the color of fresh welts are captured in the eternal serenity of her smile... and the pearl tips of a pair of dainty fangs emerge just at the corners of her mouth... And so there she lies, preserved in the watery cellar of a rich man's home. How ironic, this predicament... not the victim of a vampire hunter determined to eradicate her kind, not fallen prey to a hero bent on wiping slavery from the face of RhyDin's society... but a decoration, a mere conversation piece... how ironic, that this keeper of slaves should herself be kept, that this collector of ornaments should become an ornament, a part of the bric-a-brac in the collection of a wealthy tycoon... Subject:  Re:Hunger's yearning... From:  VVvRosevVv@aol.com (VVvRosevVv) Date:  Mon,22 Sep 97 23:34:20 EDT ::even across the barren stretches that mark the way to Merentha Keep, a haunting siren's call lilts into the air and wends its way down around the jagged spires, almost seeming to seep into the masonry as it envelops the star-clad velvet of night with its requiem song... the melody is somber, yearning, a cry for help so painful in its insistence, yet barely audible above the faint lapping of waves that might be no more than a stirring breeze rustling the treetops outside:: Subject:  Fantasia Lost... From:  Keiowere@aol.com (Keiowere) Date:  Tue,23 Sep 97 09:58:40 EDT ~As long as we have dreams then we truly are alive~ The stream of worn out tears upon the weakened form had lulled her into a deep calm allowing her mind to wander. The hushed sound of the sandals passing along the packed trail of stones was indeed muffled by the musical symphony of raindrops upon the overhead trees. The silence had settled like thick blanket and Keio was not the one to interrupt or shatter that quietude. Careful well placed feet marred the gentle chorus only seconds then fell silent again. Crisp, fresh, warm air, that kind that fills your heart with wonderment at how the tempature was simply magnificent, poured into her lungs as she curled up on her destination and soaked in the beauty of her surroundings. The rock that she had curled up on was magnificent, the flat smooth surface enough to offer a comfortable seat, and somehow, the myriad of colors gave a sense of peace that combined with the rivers lazy promenade next to it. She was atop the world as she sat there, the rain's song as it sliced through the air and tumbled about her, the rivers gurgling as it tripped over the stones in its way....everything was perfect for that moment. Her world, far from her in the distant background. The wind picked up to blow a gentle caressing whisper upon the smooth ivory of her face and she drank in a deep breath of it relaxing all the more. And somewhere up above the girl feet higher than the dank area she had been trapped in, the rain was really falling. And someone, like herself, was sitting in it....possibly thinking of loved ones, possibly with loved ones...and maybe, just maybe...someone else had just found and reunited with their loved ones. As the molten amber swept across the serene makeshift rain forest, the scenery rippled, and something was wrong. The flowers.....the rain...in fact, all smells were gone. Startled, the girl stood, sandals nearly slipping on the slick forest floor as it began to fade. A cry of startlement followed, and in the real room, Keio sat up, golden orbs coming to rest upon the leather clad one in front of her, though the dazed eyes failed to register who it was. A warm smile lit up the whole tiny face and she reached her arms out, her voice filled with warmth and love. (vs) Mommy? Mommy you've come home!...Oh daddy will be so happy! And I wont have to please him anymore!.. She bounced slightly jarring her body and the pain filtered through the second dream throwing her mercilessly back into the realization that that indeed was not her mother. The powerful voice sliced through the air at her and the situation finally presented itself. She was still trapped in the same room...she was still sore and hurt like all hells...and her parents were still gone. Too lost and sad to worry of defiance or strength or even fear, she nodded numbly, her knees pulling to her chest in a pained grasp. The only music now was the mourneful tinkling of the windchime anklet, her world was lost....dissapeared. She was back to reality and that hurt worse than her body did. The jade and purple splashes were almost vacant...hmph...no help from them. All she could do now was wait and see what would happen to her now. (vsw) yes ma'am. Subject:  Re: Plucked ... From:  bsmith3818@aol.com (BSmith3818) Date:  24 Sep 1997 23:45:09 EDT ~ From the first day I saw her, I knew she was the one ... As she stared in my eyes and smiled ... For her lips were the colour of the roses ... That grew down the river, all bloody and wild ~ ::light and breezy as a child's whisper, the song echoes through the cavern, reverberating off of the stone walls and rippling across the pool:: ~ When he knocked on my door and entered the room ... My trembling subsided in his sure embrace ... He would be my first man, and with a careful hand ... He wiped at the tears that ran down my face ~ ::a shaft of light strikes the chandelier prisms, and that beam glances off in a kaleidoscope glow over the surface of the water:: ~ On the second day I brought her a flower ... She was more beautiful than any woman I'd seen ... I said "Do you know where the wild roses grow so sweet and scarlet and free?" ~ ::terror fairly radiates from the glass sarcophagus, offering a silent scream from frozen lips that stretches into the nether regions of eternity and winds back again, to burrow at her own tortured heart:: ~ On the second day he came with a single red rose ... Said: "Will you give me your loss and your sorrow?" ... I nodded my head, as I lay on the bed ... He said, "If I show you the roses will you follow?" ~ ::a raw, cruel wind whips across the chamber, disturbing the chains and sending the plank upon which her coffin rests to gently swaying:: ~ On the third day he took me to the river ... He showed me the roses and we kissed ... And the last thing I heard was a muttered word ... As he stood smiling above me with a rock in his fist ~ ::as quickly as the wild draft appeared, it retreats once more, leaving the air as still and quiet as her own rigid limbs:: ~ On the last day I took her where the wild roses grow ... And she lay on the bank, the wind light as a thief ... As I kissed her goodbye, I said, "All beauty must die" ... And lent down and planted a rose between her teeth ~ ::the song dwindles to meek nothing as the slender, aristocratic figure of a man appears, veiled in darkness, on the far side of the room, and a thin tendril of cigar smoke rises from the shadows of the doorway:: ((Author's note: The song lyrics quoted above are from "Where The Wild Roses Grow", by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.)) Subject:  Re: Fantasia Lost... From:  vvvrosevvv@aol.com (VVvRosevVv) Date:  26 Sep 1997 00:26:41 EDT ::as though sprouting from the soil itself, the cloying scent of roses seeps out of the earthen floor, filling the tomb with an almost suffocating cloud of the sweet aroma... the air goes chill and silent... until a sudden gust of draft steals through the room, lifting a handful of dried scarlet petals from the lacquered basket at the bedside and scattering them over the coverlet in random patterns:: ::silence... cemetery silence... and slowly, slowly, a chorus of dark angels begins its mournful wailing... the sound is a mere whisper at first, but as the notes rise in passion, they rise in volume, until the walls themselves tremble with the reverberations:: ::suddenly, the sound goes flat, disappearing with a sharp snap of nothingness:: ::the room is still for several long minutes... and then, like a lightning flash, the candles flicker to life all around the chamber, in brief welcome, and for a moment, the opening strains of "Carmina Burana" blair from speakers in hidden corners... then, just as suddenly, both the stereo and the light are extinguished:: ::and the room... is empty... once more:: Subject:  Brewing Storm From:  vvvrosevvv@aol.com (VVvRosevVv) Date:  26 Sep 1997 01:10:39 EDT ::a scream of sublime terror fills the night... or is it a bird's song?... who can say but the velvet darkness... after several long moments of silence, a lonely melody lilts into the air, swimming beneath the blanket of stars, stretching, searching... the very sky becomes distorted, a dreamlike mutation that sends the stars crashing together and turns the moon to a milky puddle... and then the clouds begin to roll in, approaching ponderously slow on the wings of all four winds:: ::with ominous quiet, the wind whistles across the courtyard, leaving limbs of bougainvillea staggering in its wake... the hazy miasma up above shudders to life, and as though the clouds themselves were sighing, mourning, they release the first rain drop... it plummets to earth, forlorn and rocketing to its eventual suicide, and splatters against the corner of the auction block, leaving a tiny puddle of blood red:: Subject:  That Side. From:  bloodrdrse@aol.com (BloodRdRse) Date:  26 Sep 1997 15:59:15 EDT Her mind is a mystic pool of shadows and sin… demons bathed in black flame dancing to a tune played on an off-key calliope, waltzing over the heads of serpents… children impaled on a forest of pikes still writhing in their final spasms and calling for the mothers who will never come… the sweet scent of terror rising like smoke in the updraft of a funeral pyre for the corpses of saints that played blind man’s bluff with the devil and lost… a carnival midway where the fun house mirrors come to life and spill out all the sinister desires of your own soul, so that they puddle like so much congealed blood at the feet of the clowns… @>--->--->--- Subject:  This Side. From:  bloodrdrse@aol.com (BloodRdRse) Date:  26 Sep 1997 16:06:20 EDT Mirrors… ::she muses… her lips barely move, the sound is hardly above a whisper:: …how long has it been since I last saw myself in a mirror? ::her gloved hands slither upward, and she flattens her palms against the wall of plate glass through which she views this whole dark charade… her eyes are unblinking green marbles, searching the window for a reflection or a shadow and finding none, then searching the panels for a vein, a crack, anything that might mean escape… oh, how she longs to raise a leather-clad fist and smash right through to the paradise beyond… but her arms feel as though they are hung with lead weights, and it is all she can manage to turn her ivory cheek to press flat against the glass:: ::the window is neither cool nor warm to the touch, but it does not strike her as odd… what she finds perplexing is the blinding light behind her that glances off of every curve as it pins her to the glass, sending blood-soaked beams glancing off of the wet red surface of the suit… a child’s voice calls from the light, to tell her that she is not welcome:: ::her eyes shift the slightest bit, her peripheral gaze turned once more to the pageant for which she yearns, the mad spectacle she longs to join… she parts her lips as though to cry out, but no sound comes:: @>--->--->--- Subject:  Outside. From:  bloodrdrse@aol.com (BloodRdRse) Date:  26 Sep 1997 16:08:39 EDT ::a set of pampered fingertips dangle over the tiled rim of the pool, flicking water and testing for temperature… moments later, the ink parts with a splash, to welcome the bare, firmly-muscled figure of a man as he dives into its obsidian depths… his strokes create a rippling swell across the top of the water, and when he emerges, it is with another splash at the center of the pool, just to the side of the platform:: ::he lifts a dripping hand to brace himself on the wood’s edge, as the other palm cups over the back of his head, slicking back his raven locks and sending droplets of water skittering over his broad shoulders… brushing away a film of water from his forehead and cheek, he fixes his eyes directly ahead to peer through the side of the glass coffin:: ::the man’s features are chiseled aristocracy, frozen in stern contemplation… how he yearns to set her free, only because her current state is a pale comparison to Rose in bloom… but to do would be far too dangerous, and so, if he must, he will keep her as a water-bound trophy, to enjoy in limited capacity, but to enjoy at his leisure:: @>--->--->--- Subject:  Re: Brewing Storm. From:  llyradraco@aol.com (LlyraDraco) Date:  26 Sep 1997 17:24:19 EDT A shock of electric hunger jolts Llyra from her sleep... she glances around, still dream-muddled as light shimmers along the circle of her water into clean illumination. Some tingling deep in her mind draws her up and to the surface, to the halls of the Estate and beyond... the expression floating beneath sleepified feathers is one of bemusement... not one to disregard the instinct that spikes through her nerves, Llyra flits her dawn-lit shadow of a self outside into the beckoning morning. Blood! No way she could be mistaking the deleriously sublime scent of her favorite plaything. Raining blood, it is, as if the clouds had battled all night with jagged spears of lightning. She pushes through a window, landing in a half-crouch, and tilts her face up to the caress of the sanguine fall... And nausea wrenches abruptly through her throat to spiral sick through her belly and insides. Shock sweeps away the sickness for a moment... then a ripe bubble of copper-salt blood finds her lips in a warm explosion. Wrenching heaves double her over, gut-twisting pain seeks to turn her stomach inside-out through her lips... Llyra, in a panic, flees through the wall (which stretches and pops bubble-greased back into place)... she huddles in the first corner she finds to struggle with this terrifying betrayal of her body... Subject:  Re:Into Shadows From:  vvvrosevvv@aol.com (VVvRosevVv) Date:  26 Sep 1997 20:31:10 EDT ::on the heels of the tempest drifts the perfume of wild roses, a scent so faint that it is barely detectable among the earth and old stone and blood smells... the echoing laughter of a long-dead child bursts from around one of the many dark turns, then is gone, melding with the shadows... a draft brushes past the bases of statues, stirring the dust into the whisperings of a thousand ancient voices:: ::a low, lyrical hum, and a siren's soprano, well up from somewhere deep within the catacombs, and the words float outward, creeping past every dismal corner and around every pitch-cloaked bend... :: ~ Rose, rose, rose red ... Will I ever see thee wed? ... I will marry at thy will, Sir ... At thy will ... at thy will ... ~ ::the last words of the customary round linger on the air and then fade to silence, and moments later, a new song, a livelier tradition relegated somehow to the measure of a requiem by the somber intonations of its singer:: ~ For to see mad Tom of Bedlam ... ten thousand miles I'll travel ... Mad Maudlin goes on dirty toes ... for to save her shoes from gravel ~ ~ Still I sing bonny boys, bonny mad boys ... Bedlam boys are bonny ... for they all go bare and they live by the air ... and they want no drink nor money ~ ~ I went down to Satan's Kitchen ... for to get me food one morning ... and there I got souls piping hot ... all on the spit a-turning ~ ::the hollow singing fades to the merest of whispers, and the last chorus dissipates as though its singer were too given over to hopelessness to continue:: ~ Still I sing bonny boys, bonny mad boys ~ ~ Bedlam boys are bonny ~ ~ For they all go bare ... and they live by the air ... ~ ::the final words go unvoiced... and the sound stirs no more... as though the singer were there no longer... for in truth, she never was... :: Subject:  Another Sleepless Night From:  baghiira@aol.com (Baghiira) Date:  27 Sep 1997 06:03:05 EDT ::Night had eased into day and dropped back to night once again before Baghiira returns to the Lair, bootheels ringing a slow tempo as her slothful stride lingers up the stairs.:: ::Just inside the door, those boots are removed and tossed carelessly aside, bare feet padding a silent, meandering path over the cool, damp stones. Bare arms rise above her head, snaking around each other and winding together until hands clasp together, pulling up and dropping behind her as she stretches, simultaneously rolling her head to slowly stretch her neck.:: ::Finally, her meandering stride finds its way through the gaping door of the master bedroom, the lithe form disappearing in the near-tangible darkness within. A few quietly fumbling moments later, tanned skin is enveloped by the cool, slick surface of silken sheets, the weight of a dark comforter holding her form in its resting sprawl.:: I wonder what you were like as a child, Baghiira... ::The voice swims into her attention, snapping the shuttering lids open. She sits bolt upright as the final syllables of her name drift through her mind, that deeply purring tone recognized immediately as Chi's. One hand clutches the creamy sheet around her as she breathes deeply, slowly easing back to the comfort of the bed.:: I often wonder th' same thin', luv... ::The dry chuckle that had accompanied her response to his teasing comment was gone ... but nor was this her voice she imagined. Rather she heard Sonder's deeply rumbling tones returning her words to her:: Don't you ever question your beginnings, Baghiira? ::his voice continues, teasing and taunting:: No -- I dun. S' get outta my head! ::with that short retort, she throws the sheets back, kicking her legs over to sit on the edge of the bed. Ungloved hands rake back through ebon spikes and she rises to pace the room... seeking a distraction:: ::Distraction is found in the open doorway and she strides out -- again through the common room, into the Garden... seeking, absurdly, for the previously smelled roses.. someone must've planted them.. or.. something.:: Subject:  The Hunt Begins... From:  baghiira@aol.com (Baghiira) Date:  27 Sep 1997 06:07:02 EDT ::Bare feet had swished quietly through the Garden's lush grasses as she prowled from end to end -- rarely did those feet touch the carefully winding paths, and the scratches upon bare thighs, arms and torso acted as testament to her restless, careless strides.:: ::It was by the pool that she finally stopped, dropping to a seated position on the cool flagstones, bare arms arcing to wrap around her knees. The moon kissed its lover, the still pool, and floated there in lingering reflection, and it was this upon which she fixed her gaze. The sharp-curved crescent seemed a maniacally tilted grin, mocking her efforts and insomnia.:: ::Finally, a low growl carved its way over lush tiers of faded crimson -- and she rose, fluid feline grace spilling upward from the curled position. Fierce determination blazed in golden-green -- wisps of the One Power, attracted by the fires within, swirled and teased the air around her -- and she crossed the Garden quickly, stepping with purposeful strides through the stained-glass doors.:: ::A few quietly fumbling moments later, she emerged -- again leatherclad. Strides swiftening with each step led her across the common room -- no pause as she bent, a hand scooping up the boots discarded earlier -- and she disappeared down the winding stairs, the reverberating of the Lair's heavy door testament to her haste::: Subject:  Rudolf and Gregor From:  baghiira@aol.com (Baghiira) Date:  27 Sep 1997 06:08:37 EDT ::The night was but young when Baghiira sped from the Lair, her steps not slowing until she reached the grand foyer of the mansion. There, she had cast but the briefest of glances about... and embraced Saidar, the Power filling her swiftly, as if responding to her impatience with eagerness of its own. A silver line cut the air before her.. then widened, splitting into two vertical lines, attached by horizontal lines at each end. The lines had spread and lengthened, forming a rectangle just high enough for a person to step through... .... and framing a scene familiar to Baghiira -- the cavernous room in which Rose kept her toys... in the The Emporium.:: ::As she stepped through, the silver lines snapped closed behind her, dissipating into ... nothing, leaving the quiet foyer emptied.:: ::In the Emporium, however, two sleek, narrow heads rose, low growls issuing in unison as Baghiira stepped into Rose's sanctum. Swiftly following the rising heads, two compact, muscled bodies flowed to their feet, the short, dark fur gleaming in the low candle-light that flickered to life as she channelled flows of Fire::: <q> Rudolf. Gregor. ::Clipped ears perked, the growls lowering -- if not abating -- as she spoke their names... and began slowly advancing, one bare hand extended -- fingers flattened, palm down. The molten depths of golden-green met the darkness of almost-black as she advanced on the dogs.. and they slowly eased to their haunches at the silent command. She paused between them, offering the hand to each, re-affirming an earlier acquaintance.. then turned away, that hand still lowered, still flattened as she moved back to the door:: <q> Boys.. c'mon. We've got work t' do. ::Only a bare moment had passed before they rose to follow her out of the Emporium:: Subject:  The Trail From:  baghiira@aol.com (Baghiira) Date:  27 Sep 1997 06:10:02 EDT ::In the midst of Rose's chamber, in complete silence and swallowing darkness, a silver line slices the air.. widening and splitting until a shimmering doorway hangs suspended, bare inches from the dirt floor.:: ::Through this doorway step three figures ... clipped ears press back to aristocratic heads as the matched set of dobermans follows Baghiira. The doorway shivers briefly and collapses in upon itself, dissipating with a definite lack of fanfare. The dobermans look to Baghiira, the confusion from the dark space just travelled swiftly becoming a thrumming impatience, held in check only by superb training:: Find Rose. :::Her statement snapped the air like a whip; twin heads rose swiftly to attention at the harsh tones of the command, and the beasts whirled in synchronous motion. Testament to not only training, but intelligence as well, they ignored the bed, the chairs -- those pieces of furniture which had long collected their Mistress's scent. Instead, they moved in symmetrical lines, each tracing the outer edges of the room... until full circle they came, and paused at the door to what had once been Traevyn's room. ::: ::Into this gaping hole they disappeared, Baghiira on their heels. The darkness fell back beneath slaying beams of light as she again embraced Saidar, weaving flows of Fire into a ball of light that hovered near the ceiling.:: ::Twin whines rose from twin throats as Rudolf and Gregor paused, turning to look back at her over their shoulders.. then turned to the task at hand. The scent of strangers had been tracked, rather than that of their own Mistress, and it ended at this far wall... the dogs began scratching there, digging... and claws suddenly scratched wood -- wood which shook slightly, as if it had not been firmly supported.:: ::Flows of Air and Earth pushed the blanketing dirt away, to reveal the makeshift doorway... with the brief eruption of a single joyous bark from each throat, the two dogs burst into the tunnel beyond, Baghiira moving with no lack of speed as she follows.::: Subject:  Re: This Side. From:  bloodrdrse@aol.com (BloodRdRse) Date:  27 Sep 1997 18:53:06 EDT ::despair laps at every corner of her consciousness, swelling in dischordant pools and lashing out at every meager crumb of hope, taunting, sending that hope skittering back into the shadows to hide in the cloak of its own inadequacy:: ::how long has she been here?... does it matter?... there have been moments when her random thoughts danced over people she knew, alighting on those souls to which her own soulless shell felt most connected... reaching out from the abyss of her own captivity against the glass that separates her from the dark oasis she longs for, she has called for help, called for redemption... but if anyone has answered, or even heard, she does not know, cannot know...:: @>--->--->--- Subject:  Re: Shadow Phone. From:  vvvrosevvv@aol.com (VVvRosevVv) Date:  27 Sep 1997 21:33:07 EDT ::behind the door, inside the dark sanctum of what once was a bustling office, a bracing gust of wind passes through, ruffling the stack of yellowed papers on top of the desk, tracing kitten-quick footsteps in the carpeting, and sending the Medusa's head wall hanging to a gentle rocking motion... the whole of the atmosphere shudders with momentary welcome... anticipatory candles spring to life, casting an eerie glow over the empty office... but only the faint scent of roses pervades the mahogany and leather... that, and a tendril of thought... a silent plea for help, with no one to hear it... a second later, as though confused and taken aback by the deception, the candles wink out, and the office stills once more:: Subject:  Re: The Trail From:  baghiira@aol.com (Baghiira) Date:  28 Sep 1997 06:50:00 EDT ::Claws digging into the eathen floor of the tunnel, Rudolf and Gregor sped through the darkness, Baghiira close on their heels. She paused only once -- to remove the high-heel boots, and to send the orb of Fire-woven light ahead -- and then her bare feet resumed pursuit of the precious beasts.:: ::The flickering light of the hallway revealed oddities she only vaguely noted; the tunnel was almost straight, boring deeper and deeper into the earth... and had no branches or intersections. Make-shift torches had been stabbed into the walls at uneven intervals, and now simply appeared charred spikes jutting from the dirt.:: ::Baghiira discovered quickly, as she followed the coursing hounds, that she had little concept of time's passage, trapped as she was away from typical indicator's of night's progress. Minutes flew by as miles strung out behind her... and she finally slowed as what had been a constant downward grade slowly, gently levelled.::: ::Rudolf and Gregor, perhaps sensing her sudden caution, slowed as well, circling back to pace just before her. The air seemed warmer here than it had throughout the journey; and damper, too. A few more strides caught her up to the glowing orb that had preceded her -- the soft light exposed a wall of dirt before her. Without pause, gloved hands lifted, pressing to the wall.. and pushed gently. It seemed almost to flex beneath that pressure; yeilding without moving.::: ::The kidnappers' collective arrogance had assured them that pursuit would be nonexistent, and in testament to their confidence, their created tunnel stretched directly from Rose's chambers to what Baghiira surmised would be some sort of subterranean cavern:: Subject:  Breaking & Entering From:  baghiira@aol.com (Baghiira) Date:  28 Sep 1997 15:12:38 EDT ::Baghiira drops her hands from the dirt wall and steps back, calling the dogs quietly to her. Embracing Saidar, she again weaves flows of Earth, and quite easily disposes of the blockading wall.:: ::As she steps in, her gaze is drawn to follow the natural lines of the massive cavern... and her study is brought to a swift halt by the shouts of a man.:: Guards! Guards! Gua- ::his words are cut off abruptly as a gag of woven Air settles over his mouth, wrapping firmly in place as Baghiira ties off the flows. Rudolf and Gregor leap to the side of the pool, barking savagely at the man treading water near the platform. Briefly confused, his eyes widen as his hands raise to fumble at his mouth, searching to tear the gag away.:: ::Baghiira lifts her gaze from the man to the gently swaying platform above the water. The cold snap of anger lights golden-green as she observes the etched sarcophagus there... and her gaze is drawn back to the man as he begins splashing, swimming toward the side of the pool.. some fifteen feet away from him.:: Oh, no ya dun, luv... ::her voice is a quietly deadly purr, snaking through the damp air of the chamber as her bare feet carry her to the lip of the pool::: Yer..stayin... right... there. ::gloved hands fold into fists as she lowers herself to a crouch at the pool's edge... golden-green bright with rage as she again lifts her gaze to the platform and its cargo:: How.. dare you... !? ::her words are but a hiss, fading into an inarticulate growl. Saidar seemed to grab her before she could even embrace it.. and the Flows of Air danced in her grasp. Around the man, the water seemed almost to part as she deftly wove a bubble around him. The bubble rested briefly on the surface.. then slowly began to sink:: ::Simultaneously, she reaches out toward the chamber's door, opened a crack to show the stairs beyond. Flows of Air slam that door closed; tied off, the weaves act as a blockade.:: Subject:  Re: Breaking & Entering From:  baghiira@aol.com (Baghiira) Date:  28 Sep 1997 15:43:20 EDT ::There is no pause of motion now; she rises hurriedly, stripping leather from skin frantically. Multiple curses flow from her lips as she moves, wetly shining eyes lifting once more to the glass coffin and its cargo... though she can only make out black satin.. what might be scarlet roses.. and flashes of alabaster through the ornate etchings of the coffin, it is obvious what it bears... who lies there.:: ::The dark pool accepts her dive with only a small splash, tanned flesh disappearing beneath the rippling surface. She surfaces only a few feet away from the platform, quick strokes carrying her to its side. Finding just enough of an edge to haul herself from the water, she drapes herself across the coffin, a low growl catching in her throat as she catches a glimpse of her friend's face through the small oval window.:: ::Her fingers scrabble at the lid's edge before finally finding purchase enough to lift it.. and send it sliding off the side, the platform shaking and swaying as the pool churns from the impact of the heavy lid.:: ::Another catch to her breath.. she leans into the coffin, a hand reaching tentatively toward her friend. Fingertips lightly brush a cheek.. :: <vqw> Rose.. ? ::then drop away to lift her arms, moving the thorned stems of the roses carefully away. Flowers follow the demise of the ornate lid, spreading to float across the pool's dark surface. She pauses briefly.. her eyes tracking the flowers across the water... water... holy water?:: ::With a quietly uttered prayer -- to gods-only-know-who -- she dips a finger into the water and touches it hesitantly to Rose's hand. When nothing happens to the ivory skin, she heaves a sigh of relief and worms her hands beneath Rose's inert form, a quiet grunt forcing its way past her lips as she lifts and cradles her friend's body to her. Turning carefully on the narrow perch, she simply drops off the platform into the water.:: Subject:  Rose's Awakening. From:  bloodrdrse@aol.com (BloodRdRse) Date:  29 Sep 1997 13:52:31 EDT ::she has been cognizant of her own movement through space for some time, but the weight of the ordeal still hangs heavy on her limbs, and through the course of her travels down the tunnel, in her best friend’s embrace, she has only managed to utter a few mournful sighs, and blink her eyes sleepily once or twice:: ::but as the smooth ivory of her skin touches down on the subtle rasping of jewels and embroidery, awareness comes rushing at her like the enthusiastic jet of crimson from a severed limb… the glass shatters into thousands of pieces of void, each one a keyhole view to the nothing of soulless eternity, and she is surrounded on all sides by the thunderous roar of static, cutting at her, grating over exposed nerves with pin-prick accuracy… when at last the sound begins to recede, eddying backwards as though it were being sucked down a drain, then disappearing with a pitiable , her eyes… twitch… open… :: ::those emeralds are threaded through with trails of jet, veined like marbles… her back arches, shoulders digging into the coverlet and cushions, as she tenders a low, agonized moan… then, with a brisk shudder, she snaps upright, sending the tangle of molten curls forward over her shoulders, as she draws her knees up, hugging them protectively to her bared bosom:: ::her lips part, to issue a pensive sigh, as her gaze travels over the room… her expression is blank for a moment, as though she were entirely unaware of her surroundings, perhaps even unaware of who she, herself, was… but that confusion clears away quickly, swept aside by the tidal wave of … indignation, of all things:: My hat rack! ::and her mouth drops fully open, the silver barbell in her tongue glinting like a razor’s edge in the candlelight… her nakedness forgotten for the moment, she uncurls her body, fury pinching at the cruel arches of her brows, and slips from the bed… she picks her way across the earthen floor, stepping over shards of wood and the jagged edges of discarded hooks with an ever-widening sneer… winding towards the front of the chamber, she snatches a robe of cream-colored satin from the back of a chair and hurriedly wrestles into it:: ::as her bare foot falls on the first step, she freezes in place, taking a delicate sniff at the air that causes her sneering lips to quiver:: Flowers… fresh flowers… ::she hisses, and takes a step back, reaching to snap a flogger from its hook on the wall… twirling into a pirouette that sends the robe fluttering out at her sides, she swings the leather tails flat against the staircase wall, lashing across the stone with a resounding *SMACK!*:: ::the sound is like a balm to her, and she straightens, and stills, lifting her chin in a regal upsweep… armed and ready, she finally springs up the stairs, her bare legs peeking out on occasion from the folds of satin, the tails of the sash dancing out behind her:: ::at the top landing, she wrenches the door aside and slams it on its hinges, leaving it to stand open as she advances into the corridor:: What… in the name of the gods… is going on here?? @>--->--->--- Subject:  Re: Rose's Awakening. From:  llyradraco@aol.com (LlyraDraco) Date:  30 Sep 1997 12:32:24 EDT It's the rabbit's lucky day. Llyra skids to a halt as the flung-open door nearly clips her alongside the head... supper finds a last surge of adrenalin and escapes, tail cottoning insolently, down into the safety of the Estate's warren of hallways. Her hunt forgotten, headfeathers static-high and crackling with pink wordplay, the pale one stares at Rose's unforgettable silhouette in the doorway... with a shriek that booms hysterically through window-glass and candles, Llyra leaps to hug the poor unsuspecting woman and babbles her delight in a long-dead language... Subject:  Re: Rose's Awakening. From:  bloodrdrse@aol.com (BloodRdRse) Date:  30 Sep 1997 22:58:33 EDT ::completely thrown for a loop by the excited welcome, she stumbles a few steps back, dropping the flogger to the floor in the process, and leaving its leather tails to spread out like a gargantuan, squashed spider on the serpentine tile:: Llyra... Llyra... ::sputtering through a mouthful of headfeathers, her purr undercutting the nonsensical babble that is something akin, to her mind, of speaking in tongues, she wraps her arms around the girl and holds her tight... initially, the firmness of her embrace is intended to quell the excitable movement, but she finds, as she continues to cling to the feathered form and her heart begins to sing with renewal, that the squeeze is more for her own benefit than anything else:: Llyra... ::uttering a soothing whisper, and tucking her chin against the curve of the girl's neck:: ...have I really been gone so long? @>--->--->---