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by Urran » Sun Oct 13, 2013 11:05 am
The Blood Ravens wrote: How wonderful. Its like Japan, and 1950''s America had a baby. All the racism of the 50s, and everything else Japanese.
by Giovenith » Sun Oct 13, 2013 11:31 am
Urran wrote:Yoshi was tossing and turning in his sleep, his mind was tortured but he thought that others might think him crazy if he said anything. He thought that Gio was mad at him, Ogoti thought he was an idiot. Things weren't looking up for the young writer.
by Urran » Sun Oct 13, 2013 11:37 am
Giovenith wrote:Urran wrote:Yoshi was tossing and turning in his sleep, his mind was tortured but he thought that others might think him crazy if he said anything. He thought that Gio was mad at him, Ogoti thought he was an idiot. Things weren't looking up for the young writer.
There was a rap-tap-tap-tap-tap, followed by a pause and another tap-tap, on the door to Yoshi's apartment home. Giovenith stood on the outside waiting, giving a few looks to the left and right, hoping that she would not be disturbing him in any way. Certain things needed to be gathered up and said, but she was also perfectly capable of waiting to do so if he so wished.
The Blood Ravens wrote: How wonderful. Its like Japan, and 1950''s America had a baby. All the racism of the 50s, and everything else Japanese.
by Giovenith » Sun Oct 13, 2013 11:42 am
Urran wrote:Yoshi sat up again and groaned. Company at this ungodly hour? It didn't matter, his mind wasn't letting him rest anyway. He popped a breath mint into his mouth and got out of bed before shuffling over to his door and opening it up just a bit. It was Gio. On the inside he groaned, expecting a scolding, regardless he let her in. "Good evening G-Gio." he said softly and held the door open for her. "C-can I help you?"
by Urran » Sun Oct 13, 2013 11:46 am
Giovenith wrote:
"Oh, yeah, thank you Yoshi," Giovenith stepped inside, looking around. "I hope I didn't disturb you too much, I really won't be long." For a moment she stopped, taking a few more viewing sweeps around, before turning back around to her friend. "I just wanted to talk to you a bit about, well, calling me. I'm not mad or anything, I hardly ever get mad... just some things that needed to be said."
The Blood Ravens wrote: How wonderful. Its like Japan, and 1950''s America had a baby. All the racism of the 50s, and everything else Japanese.
by Giovenith » Sun Oct 13, 2013 12:08 pm
by Urran » Sun Oct 13, 2013 12:17 pm
The Blood Ravens wrote: How wonderful. Its like Japan, and 1950''s America had a baby. All the racism of the 50s, and everything else Japanese.
by Giovenith » Sun Oct 13, 2013 12:22 pm
Urran wrote:And he had just been scolded, but not ripped like he had expected to be. She was right, she wasn't his god and never would be. "I understand Gio. Both times I was rather...desperate, I didn't know what else to do. But I have to be honest, that time that I died was meant to be a last gift, I really didn't expect to come back. You are my friend, not my god, and I'm sorry if I made you feel like i saw you that way." He smiled softly, "Anything else you care to address?"
by Urran » Sun Oct 13, 2013 12:25 pm
The Blood Ravens wrote: How wonderful. Its like Japan, and 1950''s America had a baby. All the racism of the 50s, and everything else Japanese.
by Giovenith » Sun Oct 13, 2013 12:31 pm
Urran wrote:Yoshi hugged her back. "G-Gio, I'm scared to be honest" he admitted, screw what she thought, if she loved him this couldn't change that. "I-I've been having nightmares and it makes me scared to sleep. And I've been getting angry, something I never do..wh-what's wrong with me?"
by Urran » Sun Oct 13, 2013 12:35 pm
The Blood Ravens wrote: How wonderful. Its like Japan, and 1950''s America had a baby. All the racism of the 50s, and everything else Japanese.
by Giovenith » Sun Oct 13, 2013 12:40 pm
Urran wrote:Yoshi shook his head. "N-n-no. I would rather not..n-not yet at least. I-I would like to get some rest now. If there's ever anything that I can do for you don't hesitate to ask" He said with a bow.
by Urran » Sun Oct 13, 2013 12:42 pm
The Blood Ravens wrote: How wonderful. Its like Japan, and 1950''s America had a baby. All the racism of the 50s, and everything else Japanese.
by Cerillium » Sun Oct 13, 2013 1:42 pm
I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith
There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears, and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination.
by The BranRiech » Sun Oct 13, 2013 2:00 pm
by Torsiedelle » Sun Oct 13, 2013 3:40 pm
by Giovenith » Sun Oct 13, 2013 4:27 pm
by Tiltjuice » Sun Oct 13, 2013 5:36 pm
by New Aksarben » Sun Oct 13, 2013 5:46 pm
Happiness is when
what you think,
what you say,
and what you
do are in harmony.
-Gandhi
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Sabaton - Carolean's Prayer, A Lifetime of War, Carolus Rex, Lion From the North, and Coat of Arms
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by Tiltjuice » Sun Oct 13, 2013 5:51 pm
Urran wrote:Anew decided to explore the building, she left her apartment, locking it behind her with a metallic click. Her cover story was that she was an Urranese business women here to start a legal practice, and she looked the part. Her lavender hair and red eyes made her look Urranese, nobody would suspect an Innovater.
by Fennec » Sun Oct 13, 2013 5:51 pm
AETEN II wrote:Swith Witherward wrote:A warm hand caressed Volturius’ face. Tipper’s fingertips traced the frown that had formed on his brow before brushing his temple to settle on his cheek. The static in their tether troubled her more than even his blanched knuckles and angry hiss. It brought goosebumps to her naked flesh.
“Listen. Listen! Pain becomes pleasure, beloved. No memory can pain you if you embrace it. To deny it is to deny the aching behind it. To do that is to overlook the perfection to be gained from accepting it. No act, no savagery, no crime, no lament and no sorrow is so great that the Prince of Pleasure can’t use it to hone your mind. Distraction is of Tze. Denying it while serving is the mantra of Khorne’s pissants. Festering in it is the craft of Nurgle.”
She placed her other hand on his opposite cheek but she lacked the strength to move his head. The ropy muscles in his neck held more power than her tiny arms could ever hope to overcome. Instead, she allowed her touch to become an extension of her heart. It was forceful and fierce, a manifestation of her pride in him.
“You listen to me, Lord Volturius, Chapter Master. I am Calista of Usseio. I am a Seer. I know my craft. That boy, Zion? The one who Hears just as I See? He knew. Maybe you don’t realize it, but I know pain. I remember. I carry painful memories. I recall what occurred when my previous mate died. I see things and recall things and hear the hydraulics as that fucking menace mowed them all down. I am Calista of Usseio, and I allowed that pain to blight my thoughts until all I knew was that sound. Tipper: I named myself after the thing that tore my soul and crushed my heart. Now I bear that name with better understanding. I am Tipper. I overcame that thing. I bear the sound of death because I didn’t know what it meant to live until I’d endured that crucible. My pain is my fuel.
“Are you listening, beloved? Are you hearing?” Her prismatic eyes bored into his and her face became stern despite her gentle beauty. She would never have dared to challenge any Astartes in such a way, but Volturius was more than an Astartes. He was her heart’s treasure and confidant. He was the center of her world, more significant to her than even her devotion to her god.
“Yet you spoke of dishonor just now with a tongue that wasn’t gifted to you until that fateful day that brought you into my life? Whatever past dishonor exists, our god obviously was willing to forgive it. Forgive yourself. Tear open that wound and let the pain fully manifest. Volturius will never walk alone so long as his Calista stands beside him. I will hold the pain of those memories for you. I’ll bear the pain of an entire legion and not quell. That is my power, beloved, and meaning no disrespect, but it’s about damn time you understood the gift our god gave you when he brought us together."
"Your forked tongue harkens to more than simple appearance. While I am willing to tell of my betrayal by my brothers, you are no permitted to rip the memory from me and bear it in my stead. Contrary to belief, not all pains can be rendered pleasurable via teachings of Slaanesh- especially memories such as mine." Volturius instructed strictly to Tipper, while maintaining a sense of patience and a slight loving tone. Relaxed a bit by her rather excessive attempt to coerce the information out of him, the Astartes released his elbows and rested, staring up at the ceiling.
"To fully understand the extent of which their betrayal extends- you must first realize that only a fool would think themselves the sole child of an Astartes gifted by Slaanesh and surrounded by Legion serfs. I was born sometime around the 32nd or 33rd millennium, and there was plenty of time for him to likely see to a good portion of the second generation of Night Lords in our warband were both his brothers and actual sons. I wouldn't be surprised if a significant chunk of the twenty or so that were added to the warband around my time of augmentation were my literal brothers. Irregardless of this, our bond is as close as that of any Night Lord (which is an unstable one likely incomprehensible to you or any other member of the Legion). In short, I was forcibly exiled. While their pathetic selves were busy squabbling over petty loot and titles, I was busy cultivating favor of the Dark Gods, and thus, their gifts."
Volturius paused, straining himself from verbally lashing out at his brother's hypocrisy. It was obvious to him that they were just as mutated as he was. Only unlike him, who bore physical gifts of the four Gods of Chaos- their corruption was internal. Likely insidious warping of their minds by the Raven God and even Slaanesh manipulating them as well- sowing jealousy and self-righteous thoughts. Either their forcing of his exile was either spawned by jealousy (which he somewhat enjoyed, although knew it was a vain chance), or wished his removal as a potential obstacle in their own quests of ascension. These thoughts however were not exclusively Volturius', and they most certainly slowly trickled through the psychic link with Tipper.
"The Night Lords are a.. paranoid Legion, spawned by our origin as a murderous band of superstitious thieves and cutthroats. While Nostramo was fully obliterated- each of our ships carried with it a tiny seed of the planet's culture with us, the Chaos-Astartes, and the small cities of civilians aboard each ship. Our politics are also cutthroat in nature, and the Legion's views on Chaos are varied at best. Some Warbands are fully devoted entirely to the service of Chaos Undivided. Others sway towards service of a specific god while maintaining the favor of the other three. Others practice a hypocritical policy of squashing Chaos taint while elevating their status among the Gods. I unfortunately was of that warband. While my favor was great- this gained obvious attention. Not only did my brothers incorrectly fear my evolution into a hideous spawn (or likely falsely tried to cultivate such thoughts amongst the warband), or wished my removal for being a threat or obstacle to whatever schemes they might have crafted. I lack the knowledge of it. All I know was that my greatest kin of the warband, my warband, informed me of the danger I was in. So I fled on a small transport and later boarded a small Strike Cruiser bound for space held by the Black Legion fleet at that time. I am thankful not only for the derailment of my trip in order to meet you, but also for preventing me from having to spend the rest of my life with those dogs of Abaddon. Thinking back- the Word Bearers would have made a far greater choice, for they are among the few that truly appreciate Chaos and always welcome all of its touch."
Cerillium wrote:Klaus settled into the chair. The child in his arms yawned then rested her head against his chest. He studied her face a moment, appreciating the golden locks curled around her cheeks and forehead. He never thought he'd see her alive again.
In truth, he'd been angry with Minerva at first. What was she thinking, bringing a child into their troubled times? Yet when were times not troubled? Klaus had often pondered snatching Sophie from death but he'd make his excuses each time; there was little point in taking her from her fate and placing her in the precarious world of daemons, gods and death.
Things were different now. He wasn't beholden to Atosh. He wasn't alone. He was in a position and place where the child could thrive. Klaus had always sworn that he would return for her if he ever managed to reclaim his strength but Minerva, without even realizing it, had followed through on his vow.
"I'm not mad," he rocked his head to the side and smiled at his lover. "I was shocked at first. I was angry that you'd risked your life. Now? No. But where do we go from here? We've only two rooms. She hasn't anything to wear, nothing to sleep in and no toys. She hardly speaks English. She's still young enough to adapt to culture shock but this isn't Germany. It's Bielefeld. There's frightening things out there; things more frightening than Nazi Fascism and death camps. There are things in the building which would kill her and eat her, or torture her for a thrill. So don't think you're getting out of this lightly, Auntie Minerva. You accepted part of the responsibility when you fetched her here."
Sophie yawned again and closed her eyes. She drifted to sleep in his arms.
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by Urran » Sun Oct 13, 2013 5:54 pm
Tiltjuice wrote:
"Buenos días," said the salesman, looking up. Thoughts of how to talk Anew into signing up as a model drifted through his head, followed by vague daydreams of a performance bonus at Christmas, or possibly a raise. "So many interesting people here, are there not?"
He paused, about six inches away.
The Blood Ravens wrote: How wonderful. Its like Japan, and 1950''s America had a baby. All the racism of the 50s, and everything else Japanese.
by Giovenith » Sun Oct 13, 2013 6:02 pm
by Tiltjuice » Sun Oct 13, 2013 6:11 pm
Urran wrote:Tiltjuice wrote:
"Buenos días," said the salesman, looking up. Thoughts of how to talk Anew into signing up as a model drifted through his head, followed by vague daydreams of a performance bonus at Christmas, or possibly a raise. "So many interesting people here, are there not?"
He paused, about six inches away.
She smiled. "Indeed. I love meeting new people." she said happily. her red eyes searched him up and down, trying to figure out what kind of person he was. He wondered if she could use him to further her cause or otherwise possess him. Then again, she needed to stay hidden so she decided against it.
by Cerillium » Sun Oct 13, 2013 6:21 pm
Giovenith wrote:"Oh, for the love of..." Willow face-hooved, then slid it down, taking a deep breath. "Alright, whatever. Where ever we are, it shouldn't be hard to get back to town. We just have to look around and-"
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOHMYGODTALKINGPONIESTALKPONIES!!!!" screeched Giovenith at a glass-shattering pitch, leaping out from her spot behind the wall and blitzing over to the two speaking miniature horses. She stopped for a bit to do a little hoppy-dance in front of them, chattering with excitement the whole time, before abruptly grabbing Willow's head and feeling all over his face, coat, and nicely combed mane with her hands. "Lookatyourmanelookatyoureyesthey'resobigohmygodyouarejustthecutestthingsIhaveever..."
Here Willow Streaks had been, minding his own business, when a some thing had jumped out and started screaming at them. It was a bipedal creature that towered at least a foot over the two friends (and probably would over most ponies), had long limbs and a small, flat face, and was a kind of very pale, peach-ish color all over it's seemingly smooth, hairless flesh. It had then proceeded to spring over, squeeze his neck with it's front limbs, and rub what felt like weird, warm, crawly, boney-feeling little tentacles all over his face.
Needless to say, Willow wasn't exactly delighted about it.
"Oh Celestia, WHAT IS THIS?!" Disgusted and creeped out, Willow ungently shoved Giovenith off of him and zipped backward into the air on top of the garbage can. "Pony's sake, Sterling, incinerate it or something!" Of course he knew that his friend was unable to actually incinerate Giovenith (most unicorns would not be), but the pegasus was currently a little too shocked over being assaulted by some unknown creature to think completely logically.
I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith
There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears, and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination.
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