Rachel Allan Band Nevermore Position Lyricist Age 23 Personality
The first thing one would notice about Rachel Allan is her apparent sweetness. Rachel is a sweet and gentle soul who values life, especially those of her loved ones. She loves knowing how life and how different things work. The more she knows about these two, the more she sees their preciousness. Though Rachel has not been outside of her home, she has developed an understanding of the world. Her understanding has been shaped through her reading of books, her school life, and her home life. All three has given her a sensibility, maturity, and intelligence beyond that of others her age. She has had to take care of herself on various occasions, leading her to become responsible and independent. However, she does know when to lean on people, as Nellie taught her to do many times.
Another obvious trait of Rachel's is her quiet nature. Much of her silence is due to her love of books and reading, which is usually undertaken in silence. Though she can be found in silence, Rachel greatly loves music (particularly rock and gothic music). Her writing and her relationships with people have caused her to develop sensitivity. Her sensitivity can be both good and bad, depending on the circumstances. Rachel's thoughts can affect her, though not as much as other people's words and thoughts can. At times, she can take them very seriously, leading her to brood for hours on end. Many times it is hard for Rachel to let things go. Rachel can be dramatic and obsessive over her writing. The only reason for this is because she wants to produce the best product possible. All her life, Rachel has worked hard, and she applies that same ethic to her writing. When something is not perfect, Rachel stresses over it until the product feels right. On a final note, Rachel is extremely creative. She can think of things no other person would think of. This trait is very beneficial to her writing, because she takes turns others would never think of.
Bio
Rachel Allan was a child born out of wedlock to a teenage mother, Linda Allan. Linda's boyfriend, Rachel's father, left Linda soon after Linda informed him that she was pregnant. Linda's parents kicked her out of her house when they found out she was pregnant. They refused to support their daughter and their future grandchild. So, Linda was left to attempt to support herself. During her pregnancy, Linda roomed with her best friend, Angela. At this time, Linda was forced to find work to pay rent to Angela. She found a part-time job and, after Rachel's birth, dropped out of school. Linda never attended college, instead working nonstop to support her young daughter. When Rachel was five-years-old, Linda was laid off from her job. The woman, then twenty-one, scoured their local city for a job. Many of the jobs she found required college degrees or were not looking for someone like her. As a result, Linda was turned down by every place she went. In the throes of depression, the young mother extracted money from her savings and spent them on drugs to silence the dull ache in her head. Before long, Linda was addicted to drugs and was spending her money left and right for her next fix.
Meanwhile, Rachel was growing up amongst the influence of her mother's drug addiction. At an early age, she was frightened by her mother's drug-induced sleeps and trances. She would avoid her mother at all costs. At night, the little girl would cry herself to sleep. When her mother was out or hungover (which was most of the time), Angela would begrudgingly care for Rachel, but she was never kind to the little girl. Throughout her early childhood, Rachel was lost in having either a mother figure or a father figure. In school, she was teased for wearing old or baggy clothes, her mother's drug habits, and various other things. One day, Rachel was running away from bullies. She ducked in the nearest room to hide. It was that very room which would change the course of her life. Rachel found herself in the library of her elementary school. The librarian noticed her entrance and came over to her. From there, they talked and the librarian introduced herself as Ms. Nellie Drew. Rachel saw something in Nellie Drew she had not seen in other people, and she found herself wanting to be close to the woman. Rachel returned to the library, day after day, to spend time with Ms. Drew. Meanwhile, Rachel's curiosity about the library increased, and Nellie encouraged her to read, and read she did.
Rachel read every day. She read everything to which Nellie introduced her. As time passed, Rachel naturally found herself drawn to the horror, the gothic, and the classic genres. There was something in them that drew her to them. She did not know whether it was their darkness, their fear, or their hopelessness that attracted her. However, those stories provided her with comfort. The more Rachel read, the more stories and words floated through her mind. When she was eight, Rachel told Nellie about her experiences. Nellie pulled Rachel aside and told the girl that her mind wanted her to write. It was creating stories for her to tell to the rest of the world. Rachel asked how she could start creating these stories. Nellie then gave her a pen and a notebook, telling her that the only way to create them was to write them down.
"Write and write and write. Continue writing until you are sick of writing. Then, write some more."
"What if I'm not good at it?"
She smiled and told her, "Just write. It's all in you."
So, Rachel started writing and found that she could not stop. Throughout her high school years, Rachel kept in contact with Nellie, who was a mother figure to her. Rachel continued to read, getting into more mature literature. It was during those years that she discovered and fell in love with Edgar Allan Poe. She was given a second-hand copy of his works by Nellie as a birthday gift. As Rachel read EAP's works, she fell more and more under his spell. While she wrote, she found his work to be a huge inspiration in her own writing. Halfway through high school, Nellie encouraged Rachel to enter writing contests. Unsure at first, Rachel submitted her work just for the heck of it. When she won her first writing contest, the young girl found herself exuberant. She submitted various writings to several other contests to a plethora of literary magazines and sites. Some of them she did not win, but the bulk of them she did. As she attended school, Rachel had to work very hard at home. Her mother was still wrapped up in her drug addiction, while Angela ignored them except when their rent was due. Rachel took up two part-time jobs, one an internship, to help pay for their food, clothing, and rent. It was only natural that Rachel learned how to do their bills and taxes. Because fashionable attire was not exactly prevalent, Rachel had to do her best on a poor budget. So, Nellie taught Rachel how to sew. From here, Rachel took clothing she owned and clothes from the thrift store and altered them to her own gothic style. In school, Rachel attempted to be involved in as many activities as possible within the time space of doing homework and working at two other jobs. Before she graduated high school, Rachel earned a scholarship to her local four-year college. She attended this college, with the goal of earning a degree in English literature. As she took classes, Rachel continued to submit pieces of her writing to writing contests. One of those contests was a music contest, where the contestants had to write lyrics. The winner would have their lyrics turned into a song by the band Nevermore.
Rachel was contacted by the manager of Nevermore to say that she had won the contest. Not only did they love her lyrics, but they wanted to see more from her. So, Rachel gladly wrote more lyrics for the manager, who continued to be impressed by Rachel's talent. The Nevermore manager officially offered Rachel a position as lyricist for the band. However, there was one catch: she had to take a male pseudonym, to keep up the male front of the band. Eagerly, Rachel accepted and came up with her current pseudonym of Poe, inspired by her favorite writer Edgar Allan Poe.
Nickname: Mari; dubbed "Bloody Mari" by medical school classmates
Age: Twenty-three
Gender: Female
Role: Medical Professor & Doctor
Race: Human
Powers: Marija has the ability of hemokinesis. This means she can manipulate blood in various ways. She can shape blood into weapons and other forms. She can manipulate bodies, both human and animal, via blood. She has never tried, but she may be able to kill people via various manipulations of the blood--i.e. body temperature regulation, electrolyte movement, blood pressure, etc. If she is not too careful, she often hurts herself in the process. Thus, she has learned to use her powers carefully and wisely, with herself and with others.
Likes: Marija likes anything that relates to blood and some instances of death, including the human body, cadavers, gory horror movies, and the color red. She does not show much emotion, but when she does it is usually in the form of healing & helping people. She likes both parts of the day, but she particularly enjoys the dark and the night. She has always held a special fascination with knives, her favorite being the scalpel. She has a collection of knives on display in her room, all of which she knows how to use as weapons. Marija likes warm things, especially summer and fire. She could lay out in the sun all day if she could and never tire of it. She enjoys her solitude, never being lonely except for the company of her father or a good book. She does not care much for appearance, but she holds a secret place in her heart just for red lipstick.
Dislikes: Some things about Marija are very strange, and many of her dislikes follow suit. For some reason, she has always hated spoons. She believes it has something to do with its shape, which holds no beauty to her eyes. She prefers to hold and stroke knives. She hates the cold, because there is no warmth. This ties in to a slight dislike for winter. Marija pays no mind to most people, but she hates nosy and chatty people. Most of all, she loathes people who would intentionally try to hurt her or make her angry. One of those ways is by insulting her about her strangeness. Seeing as she is very intelligent, Marija becomes bored with easy challenges. Most films she watches have some sort of horror or gory aspect to them. So, it is not surprising to hear that Marija does not care very much for romance, comedy, or musical films. The thing that irks her most of all is thinking about her past, especially wondering about who may have left her behind on that lonely highway years ago.
Biography:
She does not know much about her past. At thirteen, Marija woke up on the side of a deserted highway near the woods. She remembers it vividly: it was a rainy, misty evening with clouds hanging heavily overhead. She wore only a white cotton dress stained here and there with blood. Her feet were bare and she had no belongings with her except for a stuffed teddy bear and a blood opal pendant hanging around her neck. Engraved into the back of the pendant was the name "Marija." Everything before that time is a complete blank for Marija. The young girl wandered along the highway until the director of a nearby mental institution found her and took her in as his adopted daughter. Despite everything he tried, the director, Dr. Murphy, could not find out anything about her past. All was a blank except for the two things she owned, which Marija keeps with her even to this day.
Soon after she arrived, Marija began manifesting a strange ability. One day and fell and cut herself on the knee, as many children do. Dr. Murphy discovered her alone in front of the institution, her knee just bleeding. She sat on the ground and watched as she let her cut bleed and bleed. She did not do anything, not even cry. Suddenly, the blood rose into the air from the cut and swirled into a subtle shape. The shape appeared to take on the form of a sharp knife before it aimed downwards at the cut it came from. The blood knife rapidly descended onto her cut and the shape disappeared. Then, the cut clotted within seconds of this strange occurrence. Dr. Murphy flew at his daughter and wrapped her into his arms, whisking her away to her room. Things only got stranger. Several times, she cried out in her sleep, struggling and burning hot with fever. By the time the doctor retrieved a cold compress, Marija's burning skin was cool. Another time a particularly disturbed mental patient got loose and nearly pummeled Marija. The little girl reached out her hand, focusing her bright green eyes on him, palm out towards the patient and curled her fingers inward. The patient moved towards the girl with the movement of her fingers. Then, Marija thrust her hand to the side. The patient went flying off to the side. On landing, blood drained from his nose and ears, but the patient was otherwise unharmed. The whole time the patient lay on the floor, Marija intently watched the blood draining from his orifices.
After more weird occurrences with Marija (all related to the manipulation of blood), Dr. Murphy did some research and turned up a very rare and unique condition called hemokinesis. His adopted daughter was one of few people in the world who could manipulate blood, whether it be moving beings with it, making things from it, or (inevitably) killing someone with it. Dr. Murphy informed his daughter of this. She understood and she knew it was frowned upon by society to kill others. Somehow Dr. Murphy believed that she would not hesitate, so he made sure to teach her to control and to conceal her powers. He searched far and wide and found the closest thing to a hemokinetic: a telekinetic. The telekinetic, a man named Remy la Rue, taught Marija how to control and to conceal her powers until the age of eighteen. After Dr. Murphy was confident she could leave the institution, Marija was sent off to college.
Most of the coursework she completed easily and advanced to higher and higher levels until she reached medical school. From there, she breezed through her education and training, finding a natural knack for it. Much younger, the blood incidents had ignited her curiousity on the human body and its anatomy and physiology. She often cut apart animals that were already dead and assisted her father in preparing cadavers in the institution's morgue. Much of the information her father had already taught to her. Thus, she left medical school with a doctorate at a very young age. She found her way into employment at Star Academy.
Take a look at my mug shot: xxxxx┉┉┉┉┉┉┉ It's always about me xxxxx┉┉┉ Name: Marija Murphy Or better known as: Bloody Mari Age: 17 Orientation: Asexual
Open to page one: xxxxx┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉ Origin Story:
She does not know much about her past. At thirteen, Marija woke up on the side of a deserted highway near the woods. She remembers it vividly: it was a rainy, misty evening with clouds hanging heavily overhead. She wore only a white cotton dress stained here and there with blood. Her feet were bare and she had no belongings with her except for a stuffed teddy bear and a blood opal pendant hanging around her neck. Engraved into the back of the pendant was the name "Marija." Everything before that time is a complete blank for Marija. The young girl wandered along the highway until the director of a nearby mental institution found her and took her in as his adopted daughter. Despite everything he tried, the director, Dr. Murphy, could not find out anything about her past. All was a blank except for the two things she owned, which Marija keeps with her even to this day.
Soon after she arrived, Marija began manifesting a strange ability. One day and fell and cut herself on the knee, as many children do. Dr. Murphy discovered her alone in front of the institution, her knee just bleeding. She sat on the ground and watched as she let her cut bleed and bleed. She did not do anything, not even cry. Suddenly, the blood rose into the air from the cut and swirled into a subtle shape. The shape appeared to take on the form of a sharp knife before it aimed downwards at the cut it came from. The blood knife rapidly descended onto her cut and the shape disappeared. Then, the cut clotted within seconds of this strange occurrence. Dr. Murphy flew at his daughter and wrapped her into his arms, whisking her away to her room. Things only got stranger. Several times, she cried out in her sleep, struggling and burning hot with fever. By the time the doctor retrieved a cold compress, Marija's burning skin was cool. Another time a particularly disturbed mental patient got loose and nearly pummeled Marija. The little girl reached out her hand, focusing her bright green eyes on him, palm out towards the patient and curled her fingers inward. The patient moved towards the girl with the movement of her fingers. Then, Marija thrust her hand to the side. The patient went flying off to the side. On landing, blood drained from his nose and ears, but the patient was otherwise unharmed. The whole time the patient lay on the floor, Marija intently watched the blood draining from his orifices. Another time little Marija came across a dying animal within the asylum's back yard. Dr. Murphy was out there with her, relaxing in the dim sunlight of the day. Marija went over to the animal, who had been torn open by a predator and was forming a small puddle of blood. For a few minutes, Marija stood over the animal and watched it suffer. Then, she knelt down and touched the animal. The animal wailed in misery as Marija played around with its blood, torturing the creature until it exploded all over her. Marija blinked, looked down at the blood all over her, and smiled a soft smile. Dr. Murphy was very alarmed after this demonstration.
After more weird occurrences with Marija (all related to the manipulation of blood), Dr. Murphy did some research and turned up a very rare and unique condition called hemokinesis. His adopted daughter was one of few people in the world who could manipulate blood, whether it be moving beings with it, making things from it, or (inevitably) killing someone with it. Dr. Murphy informed his daughter of this. However, the man was not so sure that Marija would heed his warning. She had great power to wield at her disposal, for good or for ill. Dr. Murphy believed that she would not hesitate to kill, so he made sure to teach her to control and to conceal her powers. He searched far and wide and found the closest thing to a hemokinetic: a telekinetic. The telekinetic, a man named Remy la Rue, taught Marija how to control and to conceal her powers until the age of sixteen. However, the girl was stubborn; where la Rue told her to not hurt others, she disobeyed him. Once, Marija nearly killed la Rue. They were practicing within the asylum, a simple exercise to tune Marija's control. La Rue told Marija to pick up a simple glass cup with her powers. Marija, seemingly having enough of his demands, cut open her palm and allowed the blood to flow. It jerked out towards the cup, grasped it, and then broke it into jaggedly sharp pieces. Her blood gathered the shards and threw them at La Rue, who was cornered against the wall. One of Marija's tendrils of blood placed the longest shard within her pale hand. The girl advanced onto the man and raised the hand with the shard to bring down a deathblow. At this point, Dr. Murphy walked into the room and got to action, calling nurses. They wrapped their arms around Marija, who wailed the entire way, and dragged her away from La Rue. From then on, Dr. Murphy reluctantly locked his adopted daughter away into an asylum cell. However, he did not plan on her escape.
Abilities: Hemokinesis, intelligence, and knife skills.
Currently pulling my strings is: xxxxx┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉ Username: Evoblack
In dreams, she often wandered back to her first day, the first day of her first memory. Darkness encompassed all time before that before her memory awakened to a mean gray sky above her. She remembered how it seemed to be frowning down upon her, angry at her (for what reason, she could never fathom). Her rail-thin body had, somehow, collapsed into the drenched green grass around her. Rain pelted the world, and her, around her, soaking into the pores of the earth and the depths of the forest. She remembered turning her head and seeing the forest: dark, menacing, and seeming to whisper to her. She could not decipher the whispers that rose up on the wind. Her short red hair, sheered into a bob, was flung carelessly into the grass about her. The white petticoat dress she wore was soaked through and through. She looked up into the sky once more before closing her eyes. Much later, she would wake up to more rain pelting her. She moved her hands, discovering an object in her left one. She raised it to her eye level to view a teddy bear with a red bow tied about its neck looking at her expectantly. Something told her, something she did not understand, to feel about her neck. The thirteen-year-old had touched her collarbone and felt a necklace hanging there.
Next to that lonely highway she waited, for what she did not know. She did not know why she was there or what purpose she served. She only thought to lay there, in a sea of green and rainwater, because it felt perfectly comfortable. Eventually, the rain stopped and her child self felt empty. Time passed; the sky grew dark with night. She felt no hunger, only the desire to sleep forever in her safe green sea full of rainwater. Again, she opened her eyes to view the light, but this time a concerned face hovered above hers. It was of an older man, not just out of his fifties. His lips moved frantically and his brow was furrowed worriedly. She slowly blinked. She could not hear him. Everything moved as viscous as honey, just as rich in taste. And when she closed her eyes again, she wished that he would leave. She felt her body move and opened her eyes to see that he had picked her up to place her within the backseat of his car. She was leaving...she did not wish to leave. She did and she had, but she never really left. Her mind, even in its unconscious state, kept returning to that first memory. Things never felt much real after that, not until she found a father in Dr. Fenryl Murphy. Then, she understood reality and what it meant.
"Are you sure you want to leave, dear?" he kept asking her, worried that something would happen. "Stay just another year? Stay here and help me. The patients could use you."
She fixed her bright green eyes upon him. No expression was apparent on her face. "Father, you're able to do all this on your own. You managed before me, and you can manage after me."
Then, she turned to walk away, going to grab her bag and leave for the bus. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to him into a hug. "I will, and I know I can. I cannot stand knowing that you'll be out there...alone, like you were before."
She hugged her father tightly, never letting go. "I know...I love you."
"I love you too...just call me. Every day. Let me know." Dr. Murphy pulled away to look at his adopted daughter. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me. I never regret having found you out there."
On that lonely highway. Alone.
It was only then that she smiled. Just for him. Only for him. Her red lips curved into a gentle smile reserved only for her father. "Every day. Please. I'm going to miss my bus."
With a kiss on the cheek, she left him.
- - - - -
It was the night of the first day that she had arrived. Where she lived was very far away from the school...but that is how she wanted it. She woke up that morning in her own dorm, in the quarters reserved specifically for the teachers. Instantly, she could tell that everything was different. The light was different. The room was different. Even the feel of the mattress underneath her lean body was different. But it was not unwelcome. She staggered out of bed and caught her appearance in her vanity mirror. Short red bangs, growing longer at the sides, cascaded down into a long mane of bright deep red hair. Her red mane framed a pale face set with delicate features and bright green eyes that peered back at her. The woman, only twenty-three, had come here to fulfill her passion. Marija Murphy snapped her eyes away from her reflection, already bored with looking. Beauty bored her to no end. However, her collection caught her eye. She had left her lovely brown leather case on the vanity, filled with her most precious possessions. It was then that she threw back the covers of the leather case to reveal knives. They were ten of them, of many different sizes and shapes. Some were short and fat, some short and slim, others long and slim, others long and fat. Her personal favorite was a medium-sized one with a silver hilt and a slim build. She had named it Rasper, loving it because it could hide anywhere on her person without revelation to the eye.
As she dressed, Marija slipped her holster onto her upper arm and slipped Rasper into it. The knife fit perfectly, filling Marija with deep warmth. She was pleased whenever her knives touched her skin. It was like having familiar friends always within her company. She slipped back the leather casing cover and left the knives there. Finished dressing, she swathed herself in her bright red overcoat, grabbed her red bag, and went out to meet the first full day of classes. On the way, Marija got a little lost but rediscovered her way with the help of a map of the school the headmistress had sent her. It was with some difficulty that she found the cafeteria. There she consumed her breakfast alone. No one paid her a second glance, something for which she was grateful. With that, Marija reapplied more red lipstick to her bare lips before heading off to her class. She was given all the information she would ever need to find her class. Granted, the school's setup was very confusing. A few times Marija stopped to reorient herself before adhering to the map's image. Eventually, she found her classroom on the second floor. She unlocked the door with her teacher's key and stepped inside.
Few things impressed her. She had not been impressed with the school's sheer size. Upon entering the classroom, Marija was impressed. It was a classroom with a purely laboratory setup. The walls were washed white; the floor covered with white tiles; the front wall taken up by a dry erase board; a skeleton stood in the corner near the window; a cut-open model at the back of the room revealed the organs and bones; a model near the door showed all the different types of muscles; and finally one last model towards the side revealed the circulatory system. Those were not all the models. Wide-eyed, Marija stepped inside and saw the variety of models upon the shelves in the room. The models revealed the details of the various systems of the body. In that moment, Marija felt right at home. It reminded her of the asylum's morgue, pure white and clean. It also reminded her of the labs at her college, clean and white as well and brimming with an endless number of models to peruse and with things to memorize. Marija sighed happily, collected herself, and put her things in a cabinet underneath her teacher's desk in the corner. She took off her red overcoat and shoved it into the cabinet with her other things. From there, she plucked a white lab coat from beside her desk and slipped into it.
While she waited for students to arrive, Marija wrote upon the board the first day's lesson.
The white of everything could have hypnotized her. When she was younger, she would have lain down upon the white tiled floor and gazed up at the white ceiling. She would have kept looking and looking until it was dark and she could not see anymore. But she was no longer a child, and she a job to perform. She used a red marker to write upon the whiteboard. In elegant cursive, Marija outlined the first day's lesson. First, she mentioned the syllabus (the students could read this on their own, she was sure); second, she introduced the various systems of the body; and third, they would begin with the circulatory system. As she wrote, she heard the distinctive shuffle of shoes moving against the tiled floor. Voices loudly chatted with one another. Marija closed her eyes for a second, preparing herself to face the students, before finishing up and turning to the array of benches. Many of the students had already been seated. Some of them were taking out their supplies or looking expectantly at her. Others were still chatting with each other, some even giggling and guffawing at loud. Marija looked at them emotionlessly. Then, she reached up to her arm and unlatched the armlet there. Rasper slid handle down into her hand. Rarely did her heart race for anything, but holding Rasper caused her heart rate to speed. The slim blade sparkled in the bright fluorescent light of the lab. The students who paid attention were questioning each other. None of them spoke to Marija. With Rasper in her right hand, Marija walked forward to the center of the front of the classroom. She laid flat her left hand, palm up towards the ceiling. Then, applying pressure just so, she whipped Rasper's edge across her turned-up palm. The sharp blade easily opened her skin. The force with which she handled Rasper caused blood to shoot up into the air and to the sides. Only the blood from the sides stained the walls; none reached the ceiling, but it did trickle down onto the floor.
At this, the students gasped and a few screamed. This drew the attention of the students who did not pay attention. Now everyone was paying attention; the entire room was dead silent save for the steady drip drip drip of Marija's blood trickling down from her left palm onto the tiled floor. She was silent. She stood still and watched, in a trance, as the blood dripped down. The force with which she had cut her palm had also stained her sheer white lab coat. She appeared as a bloodthirsty scientist from a gore film. Marija lifted her hand to her eyes, leaned down, and inhaled the blood's scent. Perfectly metallic, full of iron, copper, and other minerals. Marija lowered her hand, but she held her palm up for the class to view. The class held its breath.
"Blood is one of the most important things in the body," Marija said clearly. It was quiet enough for all to hear her. "It carries iron, important for binding oxygen to hemoglobin. It carries clotting factors, to prevent bleeding out. Most of all, it carries nutrients throughout the body. Without these nutrients..." She squeezed her left hand into a fist, causing more blood to cascade onto the floor. Some of the students screamed even louder. Marija felt nothing but the exhilaration causing her heart to race behind her sternum. "...the body will die." With glistening green eyes, Marija looked up at her students. "In your books, turn to page 700. We will be covering the circulatory system." She paused, before adding, "Welcome to Premedicine."
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Posted: Tue Jun 03, 2014 12:27 pm
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Posted: Sun Jun 08, 2014 4:24 am
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Dr. Darius Reed
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"Man masters nature not by force but by understanding."
---Jacob Bronowski---
There is much in life that is unexpected: the one hopeful bud of a dying plant; the outcomes of a seemingly failed experiment; and even the sweet taste of something that appears otherwise intimidatingly disgusting. Darius Reed was prepared for every one of those outcomes, because the unexpected was for what he lived. He was working contently in the lab of BioTech when Marcus came bouncing over to him. His shoulder-length golden blond hair swirled around him, as pretty and as graceful as a girl's hair. Marcus saw his friend Darius and plastered a huge smile from ear to ear upon his face.
"Darius," Marcus nearly squealed.
Darius was working on something that very moment. Specifically, it was a new growth factor for plants living in desert-like conditions. It was designed to aid the growth of plant life right outside of the dome. The man had his back turned to Marcus, but Darius heard everything his friend was saying.
"Darius," Marcus whispered.
The man ignored his friend. He lifted the beaker up to light to judge a chemical reaction. A change of color would signal a reaction had taken place. Marcus poked Darius in the spine.
"Darius." The poking rose higher and higher to the back of Darius's neck. "Daaaarrriuuussss."
Darius continued to ignore him. Even with his friend moving his body, Darius's hands were as steady as ever.
Marcus rested his hands on Darius's shoulders and leaned in to Darius's nape. His hot breath tickled the back of Darius's neck. It was then that Marcus licked the back of Darius's neck. Marcus's lips moved to Darius's ear. Only then did Darius respond. "What, Marcus?" Darius asked, irritated that his work had been interrupted.
Giggling delightedly, Marcus wrapped his arms around his friend's waist from behind. "You know, I noticed that you don't have much of a social life, Darius."
Darius placed the beaker into the beaker holder and rested his hands on the lab counter. "Not many people here do, Marcus." "Aw, c'mon! Even I have one. I have a few best girlfriends that I hang out with. Don't you wish you had someone like that?"
"Not at the moment," Darius muttered, shooting Marcus an annoyed look.
Marcus giggled harder. "You liar. Liar liar pants on fire. You love me, and you know it."
Darius glanced to the side and smirked. "Yeah, you're my best friend in the entire dome." "Your only friend," Marcus corrected. "Even your sarcasm tells the facts straight, Oh serious Darius." The blond clucked and squeezed Darius around the shoulders tighter. "Such a tease. You don't have a life." "I have one. I intend to--"
"--'go outside the dome and prove to everyone there is life there.'" Marcus rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. You've told me that a thousand times already. When are you gonna..." He trailed off once he saw the dark expression come upon Darius's face.
To tell the truth, Darius was actually glowering at his friend. Marcus would have seriously stepped back if his intentions were not true. The blonde man decided to take Darius's look in stride. "Look, Darius," Marcus sighed, "I don't mean to disrespect your dream. Though, you seriously need to focus on something else than it. I have a dream! I want to become the CEO of this company, but I have hobbies, friends, other stuff to focus on." He turned Darius around to face him. Darius allowed this movement. "Please, Darius. For me?"
Marcus stuck out his bottom lip and pouted his usual adorable pout. Sighing, Darius pressed his fingers to his forehead. The onslaught of a headache was about to begin, but it was not physical. "Fine," he muttered. "What did you have in mind?" With Marcus, there was always an ulterior motive. His friend was not just one to say things but to actually do something following saying them. Marcus had something he wanted Darius to do.
Marcus grinned, winked, and rested a tanned finger over his lips. "Shh, it's a secret. You have to come with me to find out."
Darius groaned but nodded. "Let me clean up here, and we can leave in fifteen minutes."
_____
Marcus had taken Darius by the arm and was very enthusiastically dragging him down the sidewalk. People parted ways around the two friends. A few girls looked Marcus's way, noticing his gorgeousness. Marcus did not take notice of these looks. He was focused on leading Darius to his secret place (wherever it was). The entire time Darius held a bored and tortured look upon his face. There was no way he would have normally gone out so early, or even at all, after work. He would stay in the lab late into the night, completing his work as well as creating his own. The lab manager of BioTech had noticed Darius's proficiency in his work and allowed him to do his own research there. After he was finished for the night, Darius would return to his home, settle into the small makeshift lab in his basement, and continue his work there. Some nights he did not sleep, leading Marcus to believe that he was an insomniac. Darius did not consider himself one; instead, he considered himself so enthralled by the chance of discovery that he could not find sleep. His mind buzzed in the middle of the night and pushed him to keep going. At times, he even forgot to eat. Many times he would find himself passed out upon his seat or on the floor. It was rigorous but worthy work. Darius's heart raced at the thought of it.
"Marcus, are we there yet?"
His friend giggled maniacally. "Almost. We're really close..." They turned a corner, where Marcus promptly stopped. Darius nearly toppled over from the sudden stop. "We're heeeerreeee!"
"Marcus, seriously you need to watch we're you're going." He adjusted his glasses on the brim of his nose. Then, he looked at where Marcus's gaze lead. "Oh God, you can't be serious." Welcome to Electro-Persa-Tron Inc. Store! Celebrating 100 years of customer service!
Darius glowered over at Marcus, who only smiled brightly back at him. "This is NOT a social life," Darius spat. "This is technology, a poor simulation of life."
The young man promptly turned around to walk away, but he was jerked back. Darius looked over to see his arm having been caught by Marcus. A mischievous glint shone in the corner of Marcus's eye. "You won't know until you try. I have one and he's totally yummy." Darius's face hardened into stone. "Aw, c'mon, brother! You've gotta have some fun sooner or later. It's just a machine. Just...come in with me and look around. Please?" "Fine. I'm not buying anything, just looking around. Got it?"
"Good enough for me!"
With that, Marcus gleefully dragged his friend into the store. Darius's first impression was that he and Marcus were the only guys there. Most of the store was stuffed to the brim with girls, the brunt of them either giggling school girls or lonely older women. Here and there Darius eventually caught sight of a few men glancing at some of the models to the side. Dread crawled deep into the pit of Darius's stomach and settled in there quite nicely. Marcus broke off from him to look at some gorgeous new models. From what Darius gathered, many of the dolls were created along various stereotypes: the bad person, the good person, the innocent person, the seductive person, etc. They were fairly obvious, along with their obvious beauty. It was like consuming processed candy versus whole foods; the former provided momentary, superficial satisfaction while the latter appeared unsavory but was actually more satisfying. Perhaps the models were designed along that premise. However, Darius did not enjoy things that were only meant for momentary satisfaction. He wanted to enjoy looking at things day after day, not for just an hour.
As Marcus drooled over the latest models, Darius slipped away to the side where the sale dolls resided. Fewer people lingered to the sides, leaving Darius in semi-peace for the moment. Out of curiosity (and boredom), he found himself browsing few the various dolls. Some called out greetings to him while others blinked and waved. He acknowledged none of them; they were, after all, machines. Then, he came to one in obvious view of the store, yet she still appeared rather secluded from the other sale dolls. She was different from the other dolls. Her coloring was subtle but lovely. Hair of burnt sunset orange cascaded down her shoulders. Pale skin glowed where the sun hit her through the window. Most of all, the doll was marvelously well-kept: no wrinkles in her clothing; neatly, beautifully arranged hair; among other things. It was amazing that she seemed real; technology certainly had progressed.
Darius crossed his arms, standing in front of the sitting doll, and just thought. All those nights when he forgot to eat or sleep. All those times he meant to clean his small house. All those many days where he did not feel like grocery shopping. Were not these dolls meant to serve their owners? Not just in lust or love, but also in services? He had frequently seen them about, with families and with children. Often, he saw them caring for their households. A doll could be helpful to him. He found himself nodding at his logical train of thought.
➔ Location: On the street xxxxxxxxxxx ➔ Musings: "This is pure torture."xxxxxxxxxxx ➔ With: Marcusxxxxxxxxxxx ➔ Doll: N/A
12iiot
Posted: Sun Jun 08, 2014 4:29 am
Evoblack
Dr. Darius Reed
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Man masters nature not by force but by understanding."
---Jacob Bronowski---
There is much in life that is unexpected: the one hopeful bud of a dying plant; the outcomes of a seemingly failed experiment; and even the sweet taste of something that appears otherwise intimidatingly disgusting. Darius Reed was prepared for every one of those outcomes, because the unexpected was for what he lived. He was working contently in the lab of BioTech when Marcus came bouncing over to him. His shoulder-length golden blond hair swirled around him, as pretty and as graceful as a girl's hair. Marcus saw his friend Darius and plastered a huge smile from ear to ear upon his face.
"Darius," Marcus nearly squealed.
Darius was working on something that very moment. Specifically, it was a new growth factor for plants living in desert-like conditions. It was designed to aid the growth of plant life right outside of the dome. The man had his back turned to Marcus, but Darius heard everything his friend was saying.
"Darius," Marcus whispered.
The man ignored his friend. He lifted the beaker up to light to judge a chemical reaction. A change of color would signal a reaction had taken place. Marcus poked Darius in the spine.
"Darius." The poking rose higher and higher to the back of Darius's neck. "Daaaarrriuuussss."
Darius continued to ignore him. Even with his friend moving his body, Darius's hands were as steady as ever.
Marcus rested his hands on Darius's shoulders and leaned in to Darius's nape. His hot breath tickled the back of Darius's neck. It was then that Marcus licked the back of Darius's neck. Marcus's lips moved to Darius's ear. Only then did Darius respond. "What, Marcus?" Darius asked, irritated that his work had been interrupted.
Giggling delightedly, Marcus wrapped his arms around his friend's waist from behind. "You know, I noticed that you don't have much of a social life, Darius."
Darius placed the beaker into the beaker holder and rested his hands on the lab counter. "Not many people here do, Marcus." "Aw, c'mon! Even I have one. I have a few best girlfriends that I hang out with. Don't you wish you had someone like that?"
"Not at the moment," Darius muttered, shooting Marcus an annoyed look.
Marcus giggled harder. "You liar. Liar liar pants on fire. You love me, and you know it."
Darius glanced to the side and smirked. "Yeah, you're my best friend in the entire dome." "Your only friend," Marcus corrected. "Even your sarcasm tells the facts straight, Oh serious Darius." The blond clucked and squeezed Darius around the shoulders tighter. "Such a tease. You don't have a life." "I have one. I intend to--"
"--'go outside the dome and prove to everyone there is life there.'" Marcus rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. You've told me that a thousand times already. When are you gonna..." He trailed off once he saw the dark expression come upon Darius's face.
To tell the truth, Darius was actually glowering at his friend. Marcus would have seriously stepped back if his intentions were not true. The blonde man decided to take Darius's look in stride. "Look, Darius," Marcus sighed, "I don't mean to disrespect your dream. Though, you seriously need to focus on something else than it. I have a dream! I want to become the CEO of this company, but I have hobbies, friends, other stuff to focus on." He turned Darius around to face him. Darius allowed this movement. "Please, Darius. For me?"
Marcus stuck out his bottom lip and pouted his usual adorable pout. Sighing, Darius pressed his fingers to his forehead. The onslaught of a headache was about to begin, but it was not physical. "Fine," he muttered. "What did you have in mind?" With Marcus, there was always an ulterior motive. His friend was not just one to say things but to actually do something following saying them. Marcus had something he wanted Darius to do.
Marcus grinned, winked, and rested a tanned finger over his lips. "Shh, it's a secret. You have to come with me to find out."
Darius groaned but nodded. "Let me clean up here, and we can leave in fifteen minutes."
_____
Marcus had taken Darius by the arm and was very enthusiastically dragging him down the sidewalk. People parted ways around the two friends. A few girls looked Marcus's way, noticing his gorgeousness. Marcus did not take notice of these looks. He was focused on leading Darius to his secret place (wherever it was). The entire time Darius held a bored and tortured look upon his face. There was no way he would have normally gone out so early, or even at all, after work. He would stay in the lab late into the night, completing his work as well as creating his own. The lab manager of BioTech had noticed Darius's proficiency in his work and allowed him to do his own research there. After he was finished for the night, Darius would return to his home, settle into the small makeshift lab in his basement, and continue his work there. Some nights he did not sleep, leading Marcus to believe that he was an insomniac. Darius did not consider himself one; instead, he considered himself so enthralled by the chance of discovery that he could not find sleep. His mind buzzed in the middle of the night and pushed him to keep going. At times, he even forgot to eat. Many times he would find himself passed out upon his seat or on the floor. It was rigorous but worthy work. Darius's heart raced at the thought of it.
"Marcus, are we there yet?"
His friend giggled maniacally. "Almost. We're really close..." They turned a corner, where Marcus promptly stopped. Darius nearly toppled over from the sudden stop. "We're heeeerreeee!"
"Marcus, seriously you need to watch we're you're going." He adjusted his glasses on the brim of his nose. Then, he looked at where Marcus's gaze lead. "Oh God, you can't be serious." Welcome to Electro-Persa-Tron Inc. Store! Celebrating 100 years of customer service!
Darius glowered over at Marcus, who only smiled brightly back at him. "This is NOT a social life," Darius spat. "This is technology, a poor simulation of life."
The young man promptly turned around to walk away, but he was jerked back. Darius looked over to see his arm having been caught by Marcus. A mischievous glint shone in the corner of Marcus's eye. "You won't know until you try. I have one and he's totally yummy." Darius's face hardened into stone. "Aw, c'mon, brother! You've gotta have some fun sooner or later. It's just a machine. Just...come in with me and look around. Please?" "Fine. I'm not buying anything, just looking around. Got it?"
"Good enough for me!"
With that, Marcus gleefully dragged his friend into the store. Darius's first impression was that he and Marcus were the only guys there. Most of the store was stuffed to the brim with girls, the brunt of them either giggling school girls or lonely older women. Here and there Darius eventually caught sight of a few men glancing at some of the models to the side. Dread crawled deep into the pit of Darius's stomach and settled in there quite nicely. Marcus broke off from him to look at some gorgeous new models. From what Darius gathered, many of the dolls were created along various stereotypes: the bad person, the good person, the innocent person, the seductive person, etc. They were fairly obvious, along with their obvious beauty. It was like consuming processed candy versus whole foods; the former provided momentary, superficial satisfaction while the latter appeared unsavory but was actually more satisfying. Perhaps the models were designed along that premise. However, Darius did not enjoy things that were only meant for momentary satisfaction. He wanted to enjoy looking at things day after day, not for just an hour.
As Marcus drooled over the latest models, Darius slipped away to the side where the sale dolls resided. Fewer people lingered to the sides, leaving Darius in semi-peace for the moment. Out of curiosity (and boredom), he found himself browsing few the various dolls. Some called out greetings to him while others blinked and waved. He acknowledged none of them; they were, after all, machines. Then, he came to one in obvious view of the store, yet she still appeared rather secluded from the other sale dolls. She was different from the other dolls. Her coloring was subtle but lovely. Hair of burnt sunset orange cascaded down her shoulders. Pale skin glowed where the sun hit her through the window. Most of all, the doll was marvelously well-kept: no wrinkles in her clothing; neatly, beautifully arranged hair; among other things. It was amazing that she seemed real; technology certainly had progressed.
Darius crossed his arms, standing in front of the sitting doll, and just thought. All those nights when he forgot to eat or sleep. All those times he meant to clean his small house. All those many days where he did not feel like grocery shopping. Were not these dolls meant to serve their owners? Not just in lust or love, but also in services? He had frequently seen them about, with families and with children. Often, he saw them caring for their households. A doll could be helpful to him. He found himself nodding at his logical train of thought.
➔ Location: On the street xxxxxxxxxxx ➔ Musings: "This is pure torture."xxxxxxxxxxx ➔ With: Marcusxxxxxxxxxxx ➔ Doll: N/A
Evoblack
Heart Consumer
Offline
Evoblack
Heart Consumer
Offline
Posted: Sat Jun 14, 2014 4:48 am
myonlynameistheoneiwasgivenPetra Vandergast myonlynameistheoneiwasgivenandilikeit"My adventure lies in the green yonder."
As thy walked along the well-worn forest road, day gradually passed into night. The light coalesced into beautiful darkness that was randomly studded with diamond stars. The sunset formed a gentle multitude of colors, creating a lovely rainbow effect. Each color was singular, its own, but each softly blended into its neighbor to form a masterpiece no hand, mortal or immortal, could replicate. Sweetly rung the last bird songs of the day, as the birds settled down into their nests and all became quiet. Petra tilted her head back as they walked, to look up through the thick canopy of trees. Beyond the leaves, she glimpsed hints of the night sky, sprinkled with its gorgeous stars. Throughout the entire time, the young woman was rendered breathless. In all her life, she had never been outside long enough to pay attention to the turning of an entire day. Nor had she gotten the chance to really notice the beauty of the world around her, and in such fine detail! The breath flowed from her lungs as she observed each and every wonderful thing around her. When she found herself gasping for air, Petra smiled and deeply inhaled the fresh and natural air.
All the while she thought that so many things that her father, and other humans, thought about the world were wrong. They were so consumed in their own fear, and their own stubbornness that they refused to see reality for what it was: real. Yes, there were things out in Meridianne that could harm one; yet many of them could help one find one's place, if only one had the patience to look. Such a thought reminded Petra of another story her mother had told her as a child, and continued to tell to her children even as they grew. There was once an old man who had a son, and his son was very impatient. The boy always needed to get what he wanted. When he did, though, he was never fully satisfied. Instead, the green for more built up in the boy until he wanted more and more. The boy's greed became out of hand, so his father told his son something: "There is so much you want, but you can never have it all. There is so much you need, but you know nothing of it. Go outside, my son, and look around. Each day for seven days I want you to go outside and look around. Out there, is nothing and everything that you need to see. Look, just look, my son, and you will know." The boy, grumbling as he went, obeyed his father's orders and went outside. He looked around, as his father told him to do, but he saw nothing. "What," he said, "an old fool is my father! I don't see anything." Each day, for six days. the boy obeyed his father's orders and went outside to look. Each day, the boy observed something new, something simple: a bird laying eggs; an owl hunting for prey; a sunset creeping upon the horizon, its colors a beautiful rainbow; baby birds hatching from their eggs; night things crawling out into the darkness and calling to one another; moths and butterflies flittering around the iridescent light of the lantern the boy held in his hand. In his defense, the boy he gotten so bored that he had no other choice but to observe these things. At first, it was against his will; yet the more he did it, the more it was of his will. The young boy began to enjoy, and even came to love, what he saw in the world around him. So, by the end of the seventh day, the boy returned to his father's cottage and set down his lantern. The father asked the boy what he had seen on that day. And the boy, exhilarated, told him of all the things he had seen, not just that day, but the entire week: the bird laying eggs and them hatching; the owl; the sunset; the night things; moths and butterflies. His father listened raptly, nodding his head as the boy went on and on. When the boy finally stopped, he caught his breath: "And, in the moonlight, I saw the most beautiful thing of all: a doe giving birth in the forest underneath the full moon." "It seems, my son, you have come to know the forest as well as one who lives in it every day. It seems you have really learned to look." And then, only then, did the boy understand what his father taught him, and the boy was ever grateful. From then on, the boy went outside day and night to just look.
He had promised, and she remembered that promise. "Things will be all right," he murmured to her, stroking her brilliant red hair. Meanwhile, two nurses were pinning her down on either side. A third nurse raised a needle, filled with tranquilizer, into her line of sight. She struggled, trying to get a hold of her powers, but the nurses held her down. They were stronger, stronger than she, of years of holding down patients heavier than she. "You will be all right...Marija."
Just as she got a hold of the familiar thread of red consciousness that was her power, the third nurse had swiftly plunged the needle into her arm. The drug coursed through her veins, working its way through her heart, and finally reaching her brain. Though her limbs grew heavy, Marija could still think very clearly. She glared at him, her father, and grunted as her head fell back onto the floor. The last words she heard him speaking before she blacked out were "I love you."
Marija opened her eyes to a white-washed sky above her. There was no sun, no stars, and no moon. The only light that illuminated said sky was the fluorescent lighting created by man. Fear roiled in the pit of her stomach. She had seen white this bright before. The young woman blinked her emerald eyes before rising to a sitting position. Marija's fear was confirmed: she resided in white room, a padded cell. It was the trademark of her father's mental institution. In her younger years, Marija would peak through barred,safety-glassed windows. She would view patients, bound in straitjackets, rocking back and forth. Whispering to themselves. Screaming out at imaginings. Whimpering pathetically, miserably. Back then, a feeling of disconnect was present between those patients and her. The glass and the bars made her feel as if she were looking on one side of an aquarium into another, at things there for show. She was the spectator and they were the sideshow freaks there to amuse her. Now she was one of those sideshow freaks. She attempted to move her arms, but she could not. The young woman looked down at her torso to find a white straitjacket enclosing her, a pale piece of sushi wrapped by a white sheet of seaweed.
Quickly, Marija realized that there was nothing she could do. On her cot, she leaned against the padded wall behind her and curled her knees to her chest. A fetal position was the best pose she could make without becoming extremely uncomfortable. Marija thought nothing, but that did not stop the all-too familiar voices from pushing their way into her head. hE tHiNkS hE kNoWs BuT hE dOEsN'T mUST eScaPe AwAy fROm hERe yEs eScaPe eScapE esCaPe... mArY hAD a LIttle LaMB FleEcE aS wHIte aS sNOW
She opened her mouth to breathe, red lips parting, and revealing sparkling white teeth. She bowed her head, long red hair swinging forward to shroud her pale face. Somewhere inside of her, the voices in her head linked with her power. When it connected, everything seemed crazy and sensible simultaneously. Tears, tainted red red, crawled down her pale cheeks and dribbled upon the white sheets around her. Staining the pure white blood red. She was peaceful, but she wanted to shred the padding around her. Watch the downy feathers fall like snow on a winter's day. The tears kept flowing and kept falling, continuing to stain the sheets and her white straitjacket.
aNd evERYwHerE tHaT mArY weNT tHe LamB wAS suRe tO gO
The door clicked and quietly opened. "Mari?" called a familiar voice. Footsteps gently thumped against the padded floor, and a pair of black, shined shoes came into view. "Marija? Can you hear me?"
hE foLLowED hEr tO sCHooL OnE dAy WhICh wAs aGaiNsT tHE rUlEs
Dr. Murphy settled down beside her on the white cot, covered in white sheets. From what she could see, he had not turned to look at her. He had his head bowed, just talking to her. Thinking she would listen, was listening. "I know that everything has been strange for you. I know that, what with your...your power, your past--"
The chain hung heavy around her neck, but it was a comforting weight. Its chain was obsidian black, its ended weighed down by a singular blood opal. The opal was hot, as hot as the blood coursing through her veins. Blood...blood...blood...blood-- iT maDe tHe ChilDREN lAUgh anD pLaY tO sEE a LamB aT sChOoL
"--it hasn't been the best of lives, but I've tried. Marija...I tried--"
Something else was with her. Something soft. It too comforted her, for she could cry within it all she liked. It seemed as if all the world was crying. Blood...blood...blood...blood-- AnD sO tHe tEACher tUrNeD iT oUt BuT sTIll iT liNgErED nEaR
"--tried so hard. But...you hurt someone. Hurting people is bad, remember?"
She remembered how it hurt. Inside. Her heart choking. Her eyes crying. Mixing with the sky's tears as it rained harder and harder... Blood...blood...blood...blood-- AnD wAIted PaTiEntly aBouT tIll MaRY dID AppEAR
"--I don't want you doing that to anybody. That's why I'm putting you in here--" --and harder and harder until she was soaked through. The white of her dress, stained by blood spatters here and there. Her body cold and shivering. Alone. Blood...blood...blood...blood-- WhY dOeS tHe LamB lOvE MarY sO tHe EaGER chILDren CrIED
"--I love you. That's why I'm doing this--"
Nobody loved her, had to love her. That's why she was all alone, on that lonely highway. With blood staining her pale skin and dress. Blood...blood...blood...blood-- WhY MaRY lOvES tHE LaMB yOU kNoW tHE tEAchEr dID rePlY
"--I promise that nothing bad will happen to you. Okay? Mari? Are you okay?" Dr. Murphy seemed to really look around that time and noticed his surroundings. He gasped in horror. While he had talked, Marija's red tears had continued to flow. There was now a large accumulation of red spots, all fresh, surrounding the young woman. "Marija...I'm going to get somebody." Slowly, he rose to his feet. "I promise that, whatever this is, we'll figure it out."
Something inside of her snapped. Marija slid to her bare feet. Her head was still bowed as she progressed towards her father. Dr. Murphy had reached the door and was ready to open it when he noticed that Marija was standing right behind him. He turned around. "Marija? What is--"
"SHUUUUUUTTTTTT UUPPPPPP!" she shrieked. The girl jerked her head up. Her face was pale and eerie in its appearance, for it was shrouded by the shadows caused by her long red mane. "Talk talk talk talk talk promises promises promises promises...all over the place. Promise this, promise that. Just. Shut. UUUUPPPPP!"
The connection, made within her before, flowed smoothly and drowned out the voices. Marija watched her father's lips move, but she could not hear the words that came from them. Instead, she heard the rushing of the blood moving throughout her body. His body. Hearts pumping, racing, in anxiety, fear, dread. The connection grew stronger. The blood from her tears, which had seeped into the hateful white, reabsorbed from the fabric and formed itself into a smooth sphere of dark red. It floated behind the man, waiting for her command. Silently, she willed the sphere and she watched it as it formed into a sharp dagger. Then, the dagger plunged forward and stabbed Dr. Murphy right in the back. He gasped in surprise, groaning in pain, and collapsed to the floor. It took a moment before blood began flowing from the deep wound, as the man's life swiftly ebbed away in front of her. Meanwhile, Marija gathered the blood once more into a smooth sphere, until a large accumulation had developed. With that, she formed the blood into a giant sledgehammer and rammed it through the padded walls, where her singular window to the outside world lay. Again and again and again she pounded away with the sledgehammer made of blood until the wall crumbled and fell away. It revealed a large enough hole for a young woman, such as herself, to step through. And she did.
The blood turned from a sledgehammer into a simple staircase, which she descended onto the ground. When she reached the ground, the staircase disappeared. From there, she formed the blood into a dagger and used it to cut her straitjacket right open. After that, Marija stopped controlling the blood. So, the blood simply dropped onto the ground and spattered everywhere, including onto her white straitjacket and dress. Then, Marija began a slow, staggering walk away from her father's asylum and into Gotham City.
♪ ♬ Dancinginthedarkinthepalemoonlight ♩
Evoblack
▌│█║▌║▌║мarιja мυrpнy║▌║▌║█│▌
musicxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxclothing location: moving; near a restaurantxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxcompany: strangers
♩Igotmyreddressontonight ♬ ♪
For a long time, she was at peace. The voices in her head continued whispering, overlapping. Her feet, clothed in white shoes she stole from a nurse as she left, slapped against the black pavement. Marija breathed deeply, free of the constraints of the straitjacket. She had killed, and that made her happy. To see the blood made her happy, at peace, and it silenced the voices. It made the voices all come together into coherent thoughts. Now that her arms were loose, she was free to twist them and twirl them as she pleased, and she did. The movement was welcome, sweet and warm. She had been cold before, but now her blood pleasantly warmed her to her bones. Her bright red hair flowed behind her, unbound and free as her soul. No one to tell her what to do. No one to hold her back. And she felt the desire, the blood lust, rise up within her. She wanted the blood. She needed the blood, the delicious red splattering and--
All over her white dress. It was all over her white dress, and she tasted it and it was good. poOr lIttle mArY wItH hEr lIttLe LaMB
She walked slowly through the streets of Gotham. She passed dark and shrouded thugs and men. Whispering in the shadows of lamp lights. Laughing and moaning in their secret places, sins splashing like bitter blood in a cold murder. It was a few minutes before she had made it in front of a restaurant, filled with ever more chattering thugs and men. The noise grew louder and louder--
Louder was the noise that roared down the highway, before it stopped next to her. A voice called to her, but she could not hear it. It was muffled by the rain, by her numbness. Could she not just die there? oH tHe NoiSE tHe nOIse iT HUUUURRTTSSSSS
A dark man stepped from the restaurant and saw her, slowly walking forward. She appeared to have no purpose, merely walking. He approached her and smiled in a flash of white teeth, filed to fine points. Fangs in the night, glinting menacingly in the dim light. Marija continued walking, and he continued walking, his dark coat flapping in the night's wind. They met at a point, his size impeding her movement forward. She stared straight forward at his chest, face expressionless. Meanwhile, the dark man tipped his dark hat forward in greeting and gently purred at her. "What a pretty thing we have here," he growled at her. "What're you doing all alone, sweet thang?"
The peace was ebbing away into dangerous anger. Her vision went red, connecting with her power. Thoughts and feelings burning through her veins.
"You with anyone?" He chuckled. "I could, uh, show you some things...if you know what I mean."
He reached up a hand and rested it on her shoulder. Firm and insistent-- --like his was. Urging her to wake up, to move. But she did not want to, but the hand made her move. So she did, being lifted up by something. lIkE bEFore
For the first time, Marija looked the man in the eyes. She fixed him with a deadly glare before slapping her hand on his arm and gently squeezing his skin. He was astonished, then pleased, and finally horrified. The blood beneath the confines of his flesh bubbled, bursting from its vessels and flooding into the tissue. It flowed through him, releasing from his heart. Finally, the blood burst from between the man's fanged teeth. He screamed, groaned, and gurgled simultaneously. The danger roiled in her veins, scorching her veins and hissing through her mind. The blood burst from beneath his fingernails, nose, ears, and other places. The man screamed as much as he could, between his mouth's flow of blood. Marija watched the fountain of blood with an expression rapt with glorious glee and desire. She was hypnotized by the color, the flow, and the mere presence of the blood.
And then the dark man fell down onto her feet, dead as dead could be. Marija was happy, covered in more blood, and brimming to the top with excitement. She wanted to kill again!
♪ ♬ Dancinginthedarkinthepalemoonlight ♩
Evoblack
▌│█║▌║▌║мarιja мυrpнy║▌║▌║█│▌
musicxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxclothing location: moving; near a tattoo shopxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxcompany: strangers
♩Igotmyreddressontonight ♬ ♪
Did she have regrets about killing her father, the only father she had ever known? That ones question reverberated throughout her empty mind. The voices repeated it, in low octaves and in high sopranos. Over and over and over and over...the sound was piercing within her skull. Then, Marija was once again reminded that she did indeed have a brain. She was not just an empty shell, but there was a person residing in that empty shell. A shadow fell over her face as she thought. All her memories were there inside of her. Any memories of before had long since been wiped clean. Her adopted father, Dr. Fenryl Murphy, a man of Irish origin, had been good to her. He had loved her with all his heart. Had she loved him?
She closed her eyes as she rested against the warm body. For once, all her voices melded together into one coherent mass. Her own voice, not separated into different entities, finally spoke to her as what she had to say. She did love him, had loved him. Whatever there was inside of her, it was all gone. Whatever was left of that love was gone in light of blind rage and hate. Most of it she knew how to control; some of it she did not. It was the latter part that often made her dizzy with power, which made her body ethereal and light and not her own.
Marija looked up at the person, a woman with a hot flash of pink hair tumbling about her shoulders. Bright, sharp blue eyes pierced into her like a knife. The young woman fluttered her eyelashes in shock before finally focusing on the woman, who could not be much older than herself. However, something else than their age difference made Marija feel like a little girl and the woman like a comforting adult.
A little girl, blanketed in wet white, abandoned on the highway. What a lonely highway... So empty...mind so empty. Who was she? What was she? nO tEArs cAN't CRY heRE neVER cRy
The voices climbed into a staccato rhythm within her skull. A pounding cacophony of voices that caused a flurry of emotions to rush through her. Her breathing rate increased. She gripped both sides of her head with her hands, bowing her head under the pressure of the voices. Then, her own, clear as day, rose to speak out against them.
they left me here alone why why why alone here dead in a dead space with horrible white to surround me and nothing but emptiness why why why
Her voice too screamed until she could not take the pressure of it. She collapsed to her knees. Her eyes went wide, wide as saucers, and she rocked back and forth. Her hands were clapped firmly to her head. Suddenly, Marija saw movement and snapped her eyes in the direction of a moving gun. She grimly smiled at the man with the gun, hiding in the shadows. Pretending he could not be see. Oh but she could see him. She could see very well, the way he shivered in his stinking, sweaty fear. His heart racing, his lungs begging for breath. He had seen her and knew what she was capable of. Softly she laughed before screaming out in agony as the voice grew even more raucous. She caught sight of the shop's name and felt herself become happy, even through the pounding voices.
"Please?" she whispered, her voice silent and soft as a night breeze.
♪ ♬ Dancinginthedarkinthepalemoonlight ♩
Evoblack
Heart Consumer
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Evoblack
Heart Consumer
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Posted: Thu Jun 19, 2014 7:45 am
The Madhouse Extra Positions
The White Rabbit-f [previously hatter's 1st alice]
From the beginning, her personality disorder was inevitable. She was born to a rich couple who neither cared for her nor paid attention to her. She greatly vied for their attention; they either ignored her or criticized her for being so needy. In the end, she withdraw from wanting their attention. The same happened at school: she tried to make friends, was shot down by criticism, and withdrew. Her timidity only made her situation worse. She allowed the words to get to her. Eventually, she avoided talking to people, group activities, and any other related activity in general. Her teachers became greatly concerned about her. They made inquiries as to her home situation. A counselor questioned her; she refused to speak. The counselor then turned to her parents. Her parents answered for her as if their daughter was stupid. The counselor explained her severe withdrawal from social situations, inquiring about a mental examination. Her parents waved their hands and them do whatever. They did as they liked. They examined her and diagnosed her with having avoidant personality disorder. The analysts suggested a top institution to her for slow integration into social situations for others like her. Her parents seized back their control and ended up throwing her in the ramshackle South London Sanatorium. She brings with her everywhere a white bunny doll, given to her by her aunt who rarely visits her. She secretly yearns for a deep friendship with someone, but she is afraid of more rejection. She keeps herself at bay to protect herself.
Alice's first friend at the asylum was the Cheshire Cat. She is attracted to the Mad Hatter and is scorned by the Queen of Hearts and the White Rabbit
He was born into an asylum to a single, crazed woman. His mother was diagnosed with having paranoid schizophrenia. He never knew who his father was. His mother developed a severe phobia of her own son. Because of this, he was separated from his mother and given a room of his own. At a young age, he began showing mild signs of schizophrenia. The nurses responsible for him brought him to the main doctor. There, he was diagnosed with having a mild form of disorganized schizophrenia.
As time passed, the little boy grew into a delusional young man. He lived halfway between reality and his own world. When he read Lewis Carroll's Alice books, he became completely addicted to the storyline. Before long his own world was Wonderland. He deemed himself the Mad Hatter. Everyone was a pawn; he had yet to find the one he would call "Alice." He dressed seductively and attempted to entice many of the female patients and nurses into being his Alice. None of them relented; he was rejected many times. Each rejection sent him spiraling into a moderate depression. Sometimes his depressions were so severe that he had to take medication to calm himself. Finally, this was brought to the attention of the head doctor. He ran over the Hatter's symptoms and once again diagnosed the young man, this time with histrionic personality disorder. In a fit of rage, the Hatter's mother killed herself. She was deemed a short, brief funeral service. The Hatter didn't attend. He was transferred to a downscale sanatorium in the south of London. He quickly adjusted to his new home. He was able to discover the Queen of Hearts, the Chesire Cat, the White Rabbit, the Tweedle twins, and other characters. Of course, the newest patient fascinated him. Soon, he became obsessed with her and was intent on making her his Alice.
The Mad Hatter is good friends with the Cheshire Cat. He desires to have Alice for himself. Overall, he is scorned by the other patients for his promiscuity.
She was born to a poor English couple in the slums of southern London. Her father worked as a janitor. He often came home in an alcoholic rage. Her mother was an aspiring fashion designer who ended up working as a the neighborhood seamstress. When drunk, her father frequently beat her mother. In turn, her mother beat her so hard she began to take it out on the kids at school. She was placed in detention and even arrested several times. Other times, she was able to charm her way out of trouble. Eventually, her mother ended up retaliating and killing her father. Her mother was arrested and she was gathered into a foster care. She continued her violence towards others. Social services gathered her and had her examined. She was diagnosed with having antisocial personality disorder and dropped into Southern London for rehabilitation.In the hospital, she frequently hits and thrashes violently at others, calling, "Off with their head!" Her favorite color is red and her favorite shape a heart. When not violent, she is frequently seen playing with her deck of cards. She is close to the White Rabbit. Overall, she keeps to herself. She doesn't like Alice or The Mad Hatter.
No one in his family had the disorder. And no one blamed him for getting it. The Cat was born to a fairly average couple in the heart of London. His parents loved him dearly. Once he was old enough to play with other children, they noticed that he acted strangely. He didn't say or do the strange things normal of children. He was afraid of them. Surely, they believed, it must be simply because he was shy. When they passed a pet shop while going for groceries, a dark gray kitten, nearly purple, caught the Cat's eye. He begged for it day and night until his parents relented on the day of his birthday. The cat, who he called "Barbados," was his most treasured companion, and Barbados loved him in return.His parents weren't worried about the time he spent with his pet. Until, of course, he began mimicking it. The odd behavior continued and gradually progressed to a point where the Cat dressed up like it. He acted like a cat at school and at home. His parents were deathly worried and had a mental doctor examine him. He was diagnosed as having a schizotypal personality disorder.
Life for the Cat and his parents went down from there. His behavior became extremely antisocial. Withdrawing from attending school altogether, he stayed home and played with Barbados. His parents took Barbados from him. As a young child, he was taken from his parents and shoved into the South London Sanatorium. There, he kept to himself and was happy believing he was a cat.
The Cheshire Cat is Alice's first friend at the asylum. He is also on good terms with the Hatter.
The Rabbit was born into a poor family. Her father was abusive; her mother had severe depression; and her older brother did recreational drugs. Much of her childhood was unpleasant, as she was beaten by her father and isolated from her mother. To escape her problems, the Rabbit turned to her brother's drugs and her father's alcohol. Taking the two helped her to run away, even only for a short time. Unfortunately, the mixture of drugs and alcohol caused something in her to change. One day, Rabbit felt impossibly happy; when she arrived home from school, she saw her father beating her mother. Within an instant, her euphoria snapped into extreme rage. Rabbit cracked an empty beer bottle and attacked her father. The Rabbit put her father in the hospital with severe injuries to the chest, the neck, and the face, but he survived. As for the Rabbit, she was placed in the care of child services and, once evaluated, into the custody of psychiatric officials to get proper treatment. Through her childhood and into her teenaged years did the Rabbit live within the asylum. In her time there, she became close friends and fell in love with the Mad Hatter. However, it was not to be; the Hatter rejected her affections for other females. She hates him to this day.
The White Rabbit is fast friends with the Queen of Hearts. However, the White Rabbit hates Alice, the Mad Hatter, and everybody else in the asylum.
As a child, the Caterpillar lived a relatively normal life. However, he was kidnapped off the street at age ten. He was heading home from school when two masked men came out of nowhere and abducted him into a black van. From there, the young boy was knocked out and brought to an unknown location. For six years, the Caterpillar endured relentless physical and mental abuse from his captors, coming close to being killed several times. Over time, Caterpillar began to see things from outside his body, supposedly as an escape from his torture. After a long time, the boy was recovered and returned home to his parents. Unfortunately, the Caterpillar was too far gone to live in daily society. Eventually, he was sent off to a sanatorium to receive treatment for his disorder.
The Caterpillar and the March Hare are both friends and foes. Their relationship depends on the day and how good they feel towards each other. Sometimes they are fighting, other times they are rapidly conversing.
The March Hare is a young man who grew up in a sketchy neighborhood. Walking the streets of his neighborhood, he would observe regular violence from the local gangs. Much of it terrified him at first, but then he became used to it. Unbeknowst to him, his habits also became more violent. The Hare had no father, as he had abandoned his mother after he impregnated her. He and his mother lived together in a rundown apartment. His mother was rarely home during much of his time at home, so he usually did things alone or with other neighborhood kids. No one ever attempted to discipline the Hare for his actions. Thus, he became brasher and more violent in his personality. After several mishaps at school, many of which included assaulting (verbally and physically) teachers and peers, the Hare was sent for treatment in a sanatorium.
The March Hare has a good/bad relationship with the Caterpillar, but otherwise they are decent friends. He pays little attention to the Mad Hatter and his ravings about the patients being specific Wonderland characters. He does not care for Alice or many of the other patients, much of which shows through in his belligerent nature.
Posted: Thu Jun 19, 2014 7:49 am
new profile layout
basics picture [real person preferred] role name age birthday sexuality height weight biography personality likes/dislikes possible romantic interest [not required] user that controls character
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please make picture 375x250--must be real, not anime role here
Basics
xxxxxxxxxx◆ name- - - here
xxxxxxxxxx◆ age - - - here
xxxxxxxxxx◆ birthday - - - here
xxxxxxxxxx◆ sexuality - - - here
xxxxxxxxxx◆ height - - - here
xxxxxxxxxx◆ weight - - - here
Personal
xxxxxxxxxx◆ biography - - - provide at least two paragraphs of detail
xxxxxxxxxx◆ personality - - - provide at least two paragraphs of detail
xxxxxxxxxx◆ likes - - - make it simple--a list or a small paragraph is fine
xxxxxxxxxx◆ dislikes - - - make it simple--a list or a small paragraph is fine
xxxxxxxxxx◆ username - - - here
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Code version
[center][img]http://homepages.wmich.edu/~fzj7435/images/photogoeshere.jpg[/img] [i]please make picture 375x250--must be real, not anime[/i] [size=20][u][b]role here[/b][/u][/size][/center]
"The time has come," the Walrus said, "To talk of many things: Of shoes—and ships—and sealing-wax— Of cabbages—and kings— And why the sea is boiling hot— And whether pigs have wings."
Deep in the older part of London, there exists an old Victorian asylum. It is an underfunded establishment that receives few new patients each year. The doctors and nurses are the only ones who enter and leave the institution. Among those who live in the area, there are rumors about screams piercing the dead of night. The patients remain in their own filthy padded rooms, speaking nonsense to themselves or staring right at the wall. Though they appear unaffected, all in the asylum are terrified, and for good reason. While the screams inside are attributed to the asylum's patients, they really belong to those who are being slowly murdered one by one within the asylum. Some of the victims are patients, while others are nurses or doctors. No one has ever seen or heard the killer, only what he has left behind: bodies, blood, and messages that fit each victim to a character in Lewis Carroll's "Alice in Wonderland."
One day, a new patient is registered into the asylum. The nurses showed her to her room, which was as filthy as all the other rooms. Now, the other patients in the shoddy place lived in their own worlds. They each had a unique disorder or a particular mental ailment that called for severe containment. Many of the asylum's patients were usually a threat to themselves, others, or both, leading to them being locked up like prisoners. However, some of the patients were not too bad off. One thought himself an animal; a cat, to be exact. A second saw himself outside of his body, detached from reality. Another came from a violent background where she was constantly beaten. And another had read Lewis Carroll's books about Alice and became obsessed with them. He spun an insane, imaginary world in his mind where everyone was a certain character. All the patients had something truly different, and truly frightening, about them.
Her first night there was bloodcurdling. Screams of pain and deep grunts echoed through the hallways. The patients lay in their beds, eyes full moon circles. None of them sleep the entire night. The next day, the nurses found one of the patients dead in his room. Bloody hand prints wallpapered his room. A syringe lay next to the body; the patient's eyes had been cut out and his heart stabbed several times. In his hand, he clutched a letter written to his imaginary twin brother. Blood was everywhere. The doctors and nurses cleaned up the mess and covered up the accident. The girl heard their frantic whispers in the corners and shivered in fright. With his obsession being the Wonderland stories, it was no surprise when the Hatter became the suspected murderer. Eventually, anger overcame fear and some of the patients, despite their mental ailments, bound together to solve the mystery of the Wonderland killer.
Our patients know it's only a matter of time who the murderer kills next.
Posted: Wed Jun 25, 2014 7:38 pm
EDITED
Tʜᴇ Sᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ
Tʜᴇ Sᴏᴜᴛʜ Lᴏɴᴅᴏɴ Sᴀɴᴀᴛᴏʀɪᴜᴍ
Tʜᴇ Iɴsɪᴅᴇs
Patients' Rooms
The Lounge
Tʜᴇ Gᴀʀᴅᴇɴs
The Rose Fountain
Stairs to the stream
The Thamian Stream
The Forest Path
NOTE: These are fictional places created from my own mind. It is a coincidence if they have the name of any person, organization, business, etc.
Evoblack
Heart Consumer
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Evoblack
Heart Consumer
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Posted: Thu Jun 26, 2014 6:04 am
The Rules
General
Basics: Please adhere to Gaia's Terms of Service and Rules and Guidlines. This includes no sex/cybering with anybody in the thread, flaming/bullying, and spamming, among other things. Don't share any information here that you don't want to be known to the entire world.
I am Goddess: I am the creator of this role play. Therefore, I am allowed to judge who goes and who stays. If I find that you disobey any of the rules listed above (including Gaia ToS and R&G), then you will be kicked out of the role play. If you have any problems, please resolve them outside of the role play. Neither the OOC nor the actual RP are places to do this.
Behavior & Conduct: I expect you to be mature and responsible. Respect yourself and other role players. Be polite and courteous.
OOC: The OOC thread is a big part of plotting and communication between players. This particular RP requires use of the OOC to get input from every player to decide the next event. Of course, there will be twists and turns thrown out by me. Thus, you are required to use it to know what's going on in the RP. Plus, it's an awesome way to get to know your fellow players. Take advantage of it! Some of the best friends you'll ever make will be through RPing.
Posting
Activity: Please be active; it's all that I ask. If you can't be apart of the RP, either inform us in the OOC thread or PM me. You are free to quit at any time. Please let me know when you do so and don't just disappear. At minimum, post at least once a week. I, and others, understand if it takes a while to post. We all have lives outside of cyberspace. If you can't post for a long time, please let us know in the OOC. In your absence, your character will become a NPC, following the group around, and the story will continue.
Posts must consist of at least one to three paragraphs. One-liners are unacceptable. Text talk is unacceptable. Please use proper grammar, spelling, and capitalization. Bold and use quotations for speech and italicize thoughts. Posts must be decorated. Bright and pale colors make it hard for others to read posts. Please don't use these colors. All decorated posts must be accompanied by a picture of a real person. Anime and cartoon pictures aren't acceptable. They must have the character's name in them and the writer's post. Location is required, but other add-ons (like mood and thoughts) are up to the player. When writing a post, you must read previous posts. Finally, quote the player that you're interacting with to get a quicker response.
Applying
Character Limit : There is a limit of two characters per person, no more or less. This means that even I, the creator, am subject to these rules. To have a second character, please be sure that you can handle the responsibility.
Reserves : In order to have a spot in the RP, you must fill out a reserve, otherwise profiles won't be accepted. Send all reserves to me via PM, using the title: "(RP title) ~ R" for a reservation".
Profiles : After submitting a reserve, I will get back to you at least within three days' time. From there, I will inform you of whether or not you got the spot. Following acceptance from me, please send your profile via PM to me, using the title: "(RP title) ~ P" for a profile".
You have a minimum of three days to send your profile to me after your reserve is complete. If I don't receive a profile after three days, I will open up the reserved spot. Don't change any of the coding of either reserve or profile. For both reservation and profile, I will notify you when I have received them. Please don't post them in the main thread or the OOC; I have a separate thread for this. After your profile is accepted, I will post it in the profile thread. I reserve the right to judge all reservations and profiles as I see fit.
Warnings
The Ballgame : Three strikes and you're out. Breaking any of the aforementioned rules is ground for another strike or dismissal from the RP.
Inactivity : The first week without notification you will receive a strike against you. The second week without notification, you will have another strike against you. The third week without notification, you will be removed from the RP and your character will be open for the taking.
These rules are here for a reason. They are not going to be changed for any reason. The plot of the role play is not going to change for any reason. Remember that YOU are the one who joined. If you have any issues with these rules, then leave.
