Calling all Demigods! discussion
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message 1702:
by
Iviana (The Sign Painter), The Goddess of indecisiveness
(new)
Mod
I got an 84 on my final for geometry.
I got an 85 overall.
...
Me: That's not that bad, Ivi. That's at least a B...
Me: :/ *hugs*
Speaking of finals, I took my Lord of the Flies final today.
Of course, my teacher starts out with this: "The test is 100 questions, and a GenEd grade 12 final as well. Good luck."
Us: owo
Speaking of finals, I took my Lord of the Flies final today.
Of course, my teacher starts out with this: "The test is 100 questions, and a GenEd grade 12 final as well. Good luck."
Us: owo
Me: O.o *hugs*
Me: It was so hard it was scary. And then he goes: "There is a mandatory extra credit essay."
My friend and I went: "OH MY DAMN." XD
My friend and I went: "OH MY DAMN." XD
message 1709:
by
Iviana (The Sign Painter), The Goddess of indecisiveness
(new)
Mod
message 1711:
by
Iviana (The Sign Painter), The Goddess of indecisiveness
(new)
Mod
Me: Not. At. All. People do realize I'm obly thirteen, right! *goes to pull out hair*
Vanessa: No! *tackles*
Me: -.-
Mod
Such jokes courses. No math, no science-- music, classical civilizations, ap english, writer's craft, french, and philosophy.
message 1715:
by
Iviana (The Sign Painter), The Goddess of indecisiveness
(new)
Mod
Mom wants me to get into AP Bio next year.
...
Mod
Mod
Me: *noms*
Me: Tell her no, Ivi. You've got too much stress, already. Hai, Leia. I posted in Aphrodite.
message 1719:
by
Iviana (The Sign Painter), The Goddess of indecisiveness
(new)
Mod
I said yes.
Mod
I feel like roleplaying. Ooooh oohh ohhh, I'll upload the Bioshock roleplay for you, Ivi.
Me: I have to quit French next year. >.< Poopbiscuits.
message 1723:
by
Iviana (The Sign Painter), The Goddess of indecisiveness
(new)
Mod
I feel like roleplaying. Ooooh oohh ohhh, I'll upload the Bioshock roleplay for you, Ivi."
Me: :)
Me: Why do you HAVE to quit Vonne?
Mod
....I am disappointed in you, Vanny.
Me: :/ My parents and brother are picking out my high school classes, and they decided I would be deported from France if I ever went there. >_> And my mom wants me to work at her restuarant when I get older.
Me: That's awful. Ggrr. Why do people do these things to us? Life sucks, guys. *hugs*
Mod
I picked out my own high school classes, my mom tried to choose for me but I got all Gollum and she desisted.
Try picking what you want and see what happens :/
message 1729:
by
Iviana (The Sign Painter), The Goddess of indecisiveness
(new)
Mod
Mod
Me: Lies, life is a beautiful under appreciated thing.
Me: Meh, I wouldn't say my life sucks, not compared to others. I've got a pretty good life.
They won't let me pick, it was a miracle I got to do band again. At least that's a guarantee for next year. :D
EDWIN IS BACK. HE LOOKS REALLY PALE. xD
They won't let me pick, it was a miracle I got to do band again. At least that's a guarantee for next year. :D
EDWIN IS BACK. HE LOOKS REALLY PALE. xD
Mod
But I feel sorry for him so give him a hug, too. xD
Battle Arena?
Me: Sometimes you have to say no to your parents, Van. I've never had to do it, but I might someday. Life is a hellhole that needs to hurry up and get over with. I just wanna live it, and get it over with.
Brb
Me: xD HAHA. I'm on his iPhone™. Hahahahahahaha, trademark. I might lost wifi soon.
Mod
Wrong attitude, Silv. :/
Ivi, here's the outline for our roleplay. I edited so there is minimum spoilage.
There are a pair of twins whose parents rose up against Andrew Ryan and were executed—the twins had to watch. Artemis and Apollo had to flee their home and they have been living in refuge since, even having to spend a month in prison. Now, they are 18-- it’s 1961, and Rapture has fallen. They refused to conform and use ADAM, so they are untainted. Jack finds them and once he realizes he doesn’t have to blow their brains out, he takes them along with him to fight Andrew Ryan.
Andrew Ryan had a biological son, but this son had been a wayward fool. Gabriel was far too impulsive and temperamental to be trusted with Rapture‘s wellbeing, thus Andrew Ryan needed a new heir to Rapture - Jack. Desperate for his father‘s approval, Gabriel sought him.
He wanted to capture him and bring him back to Andrew Ryan, so he set off to find Jack. However, Jack proves too difficult to kidnap, and Gabriel must resort to a new plan-- to torment Jack and make the half-brother who doesn’t know he exists wish for death—before it is granted to him in the most painful way possible.
message 1737:
by
Iviana (The Sign Painter), The Goddess of indecisiveness
(new)
Mod
Me: Me does too. *high five*
Mod
Awwww, Justine gave me a gorgeous Pierre Belvedere pen 'pour ecrire tes poemes' ^^
Me: o.o Whoa...that's awesome.
I scribbled a few things around my planner and I don't know if it's poetry, the beginnings of a song, or my boredom sprites in my head are getting wily. xD
--> Broken laces, untied glasses,
Oblivious to the imposing, demanding
threat.
Ultraviolet pools, sugar-coated lips,
lies entwined in mouths,
sweet like paranormal candy.
o.o Yeah, I dunno.
I scribbled a few things around my planner and I don't know if it's poetry, the beginnings of a song, or my boredom sprites in my head are getting wily. xD
--> Broken laces, untied glasses,
Oblivious to the imposing, demanding
threat.
Ultraviolet pools, sugar-coated lips,
lies entwined in mouths,
sweet like paranormal candy.
o.o Yeah, I dunno.
Me: Very nice, Van. Gotta go soon. Will be back in like an hour? Dunno. Very wring attitude. Though I stand by it.
Mod
It's gorgeous, Van.
I'm posting the first three here, delete them when you're done reading. Must go to dinner, be back soon.
Apollo
This place is a poisonous, gaping hole. It’s a smorgasbord of misery and broken dreams, false promises and blasphemy. Each denizen is a twisted, rotten soul, scrabbling across this reeking carcass of a city, hoping to come across some of that ADAM junk to pin a few more years to their pathetic, dependent lives. They scream and run at you with wrenches and machine guns, merciless and deranged, willing to tear apart their neighbour’s flesh for a pep bar or two. This place is hell, filled with sin and despair. I need to survive this. I need to get the fuck out of here.
Lonely, bitter thoughts darted back and forth behind a pair of currently distant eyes. They were wide and beautiful, framed with thick brown lashes, the iris a deep blue. Blue like the blasted ocean surrounding him, keeping him caged in its liquid grasp like a sunken wreck. When he stared up at the glass ceiling above him, the beautiful school of bright, tropical fish swimming in the vast ocean behind it failed to do anything but make him even angrier. Angry at what, exactly?
Apollo Gremm was angry at absolutely everything. He was angry that he was born into this disgusting, sinful city. He was angry that he was stuck here, hunted and hated simply for being pure. He was angry how shallow, how materialistic the society had been, and most of all, he was angry at how he was stuck in the middle of it all. He and his beautiful twin sister.
Those blue eyes flickered down to his chin, under which he could see the pale blonde locks of his twin. She had fallen asleep with her head tucked into his neck, arms wrapped around him like a cocoon. The hollow at the base of his neck was damp, and he felt sad, albeit unsurprised, that she had been crying. Fuck, he’d cried, too. His cheeks were caked with dry tears.
Pushing away the depressing thought, he rose a hand and gently tucked a lock of hair behind the pink shell of her ear. Artemis’s embrace was the most comforting thing in the world right now, and Apollo was immediately distracted from his raging thoughts. He needed to be brave and protect her, even though he knew he was far from tough. At a staggering five feet five inches, he wasn’t exactly the fighting type. Apollo had been born prematurely; Artemis had been taking all of his nutrition, so he was removed via C-Section. Due to being born a month early, he was always… well, small.
He stopped growing when he was fifteen, never receiving this mysterious ‘growth spurt’ everybody talked about. The boy was thin, very slender and dainty with his tiny hands and feet. His shoulders were narrow, his waist tapering off into curvy hips that he used to hate. He was mocked for his girly butt, too, and it had coloured his cheeks crimson and moistened his eyes back in middle school. Of course, once he grew up and realized his effeminate body wasn’t changing, he decided to embrace it. There were quite a few men he could name that liked his body just the way it was.
Apollo was also very pretty, just like his sister, and the twins possessed a glowing beauty that made them look like a pair of angels. With perfect alabaster skin resembling the visage of a porcelain doll and a head of silky, pale golden locks that curled around his face like a delicate frame, it was hard not to imagine fluffy white wings tearing out from under his clothing. He had a pair of round, pink lips that used to tenderly smile all the time; now, they were constantly tugged into a petulant frown.
Apollo and Artemis were squatting in a deserted apartment in one of the higher levels of Rapture. It had clearly belonged to somebody of importance before, for they found plenty of money in a vault Artemis cleverly hacked and extremely pricey bottles of bourbon. The cutlery that lay strewn across the floor was gold, the shattered china obviously pricey. Paintings of a pompous fat man were probably self-portraits, and the ones that weren’t knocked off the wall were slashed. The twins hadn’t bothered to clean up, seeing as they wouldn’t be staying there for very long, but they set countless trap rivets by the door and outside of the apartment, just to make sure nobody surprised them in their sleep. And sleep they did; well, Artemis did, at least, after crying herself into it. Apollo had stayed awake with the girl on his chest, staring up at the glass ceiling and thinking.
He was dressed in an interesting fashion. Of course, all the citizens of Rapture dressed strangely, but he definitely stood out. A black button vest with wide lapels was fastened with large gold buttons. A frilly white jabot was clipped to the collar of a long sleeved shirt of the same colour that he wore under the vest, the ends of the sleeves fashioned with floaty lace cuffs. In the middle of the jabot was a vertical line of small, black buttons, and around the jabot’s stiff collar, a slim, dark purple ribbon was tied into a bow. A pair of white shorts hung snugly from his hips, held up by thick, dark purple suspenders that raced under his vest. The shorts left his long legs bare save for the black sheer stockings that settled a few inches above his knees. These were kept up by dark purple garters, and his feet were in a small pair of shiny, white, ankle-high combat boots that were still on his feet, even though he was lying on a king-sized bed.
He certainly didn’t feel like a king, he thought miserably as he hugged his sister closer to his chest.
He felt like shit.
Artemis
Dreams of murder, dreams of flying, dreams of loving, dreams of dying.
Soft sloping lips mouthed the well-known verse along with the memory, closed eyelids twitching in sleep. Fingers wrapped against her brother’s neck, she murmured softly in her sleep, her gentle voice slurred with dreams. She never dreamed about any of the things in the poem. She dreamed about swimming. She dreamed about having a tail, a long silvery tail, and swimming in the cool blue waters that surrounded them, cool blue waters that were so close and yet so incredibly far away.
She would never get to feel them ripple against her soft skin, not so vividly as they did now in her dream. How many times had she pressed her long childish fingers against the scratched glass of Rapture, peering out at the dark murkiness of the waves? How many times had she wished to swim out?
Artemis twitched again as her dream took on unpleasant thoughts of encountering Them out in the ocean. Artemis would swim away, her blue eyes, already so large, widening in terror as she pelted in the deeper parts of the water.
She would look back once.
Once was enough to see their terrible faces, the faces of her parents, scarred and ripped and torn beyond belief, pleading with her, brandishing handfuls and handfuls of that parasite, that--
“Adam!” Artemis gasped as she bolted awake, feeling the tears on her stinging cheeks. Her eyes flew open, tangled golden lashes finding her dear brother’s face. Her chest was rising up and down at an incredible rate. Artemis’ hand grasped in the air at her hip for her weapon, instinctively. Wildly her eyes alighted on the AK-47 perched on the marble floor by the ridiculously fluffed bed, and back again to her brother’s sweet and beautiful face, her mouth open slightly and her bottom lip wobbling in terror.
She swallowed away her fear and caressed Apollo’s face, closing her eyes in relief that they were still together.
“I’m so glad,” she whispered through a face filled with pain, her brother’s face blurring for a moment through her hazy tears.
She lifted her arms from her brother’s neck and kissed him, burying her face in the
crook between his neck and his shoulder to quieten her sudden tears.
“Oh, man, Polly,” Artemis said with a brave smile, pressing the heels of her hands
against her eyes for a moment. “I hate that dream so fucking much.
Why can’t they just leave me alone?”
Adam and Eve! Adam and Eve… how ironic, Artemis thought with her top lip pulled in a grimace, that the very death of humankind was named after the birth of it! But then again, life and death and birth and murder, growing old and staying young, they were all connected to this place, this haven for freaks and pure evil. Still, the very thought of the freaks had her more determined to get to the Surface.
Sometimes she’d lose hope. Sometimes they’d both lose hope, and what hope could survive in the bleakest prison in Rapture? But today was a new day. The pit of Artemis’ stomach tingled with apprehension-- or revulsion? She couldn’t tell the two feelings apart anymore, they’d been tied together so carefully and so closely for her whole life that they were as much a part of her as Apollo.
She slid off of the huge bed, the dress they’d given her in prison rustling as she did so. Artemis hated dresses. How was she supposed to lug around a machine gun without a normal set of clothes? The pinstriped material was dark brown on beige, thick and coarse, and yet it suited Artemis’ slim, ethereal form very well. Artemis stepped towards the cracked mirror that had, no doubt, once been magnificent and gilded. Her hair was a golden tangled halo around her dirty, oval face. No one else in Rapture had such pale and silvery skin like her and her brother. No one else had such lovely golden hair. She still remembered when their skin used to glow like the legendary Moon her parents had shown her in pictures, their hair paler versions of the supreme Sun. Now her and her brother’s skin were dirty and the moonshine had been covered with dirt and mud and tears. Their golden hair was tangled and unwashed, although a faint glow seeped out of it like the last breath of a dying thing.
Feeling an odd urge to growl like one of the freaks that haunted Rapture, Artemis snatched a dusty brush from the dresser and pulled it viciously through her hair. She didn’t stop until it shone again and was down in a golden sheet down to the small of her back, she didn’t stop until tears from the pain were flowing down her face in such a stream that they washed away the dirt from her face.
[To Be Continued In Next Post]
message 1744:
by
Iviana (The Sign Painter), The Goddess of indecisiveness
(new)
Mod
heh... paranormal candy.
Mod
“We need to get a move on, Apollo,” she said. What a relief it was to hear her own voice so confidently reassured and cool again.
Artemis shrugged on her backpack and was out the door with her brother close behind.
Jack
“What’s this?! A pretty little moth?”
His legs ached. He’d been running for too long.
“Come to give me a good bye kiss?”
His lungs were on fire. His mouth was greedily gulping down gasps of air.
“Don’t be like that, my love. Come back to me.”
The lilting tone rung out from every corner of the room, the source seemed to be the very walls that surrounded him. Still, he ran.
“Come back, my moth. Flutter your pretty wings and fly to me.”
Every inhale seemed to scrape its way down his throat, his whole body burning fiercely as he bolted past frozen figures of men and women in animal masks, posing for an audience that was never there. He pushed harder, ignoring the aching in every limb attached to his body, disregarding the fuzziness that was creeping up in the corners of his eyes.
“You‘re going in the wrong direction, Jackie boy. I suppose you weren‘t artist material after all.”
He had tried to take the bastard down, but he had no more ammo, less than half of an Eve hypo, and no more health packs. That would be an encounter he wouldn’t survive.
“Fucking brat, I can’t believe I saw potential in you. Now I want to see that potential splattered across Rapture in the form of your guts. So would you kindly, my little moth, just fly.”
And so, Jack flew. He ran from Sander Cohen’s theatre like a madman, cursing breathlessly into the air as the thundering footsteps of a couple of dozen Splicers reached his buzzing ears. The psychotic artist had sent his crazed minions after him, obviously not flattered by Jack’s unspoken refusal to be ‘his little moth’. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could go… he was fast, but he’d been running for a good ten minutes now at breakneck speed.
Then he saw his saving grace.
The bulky, looming figure of a Big Daddy just brightened his fucking day. As he ran towards it, he pulled out the scarce remains of some Eve and jabbed the plunger into his arm, injecting just enough to throw out a Big Daddy Hypnosis ball. It hit the Big Daddy in the chest, and after a moment of confusion, the green lights turned golden and he started charging at the Splicers that were chasing Jack.
Relieved, he managed to run for another good five minutes, pleased to hear the shrieks of the Splicers become distant behind him. As he ran, he became suddenly aware of a sharp, burning pain in his calve. The twenty-five year old man collapsed onto the floor, staring down at his leg in horror. A clean, bleeding hole was located right in the middle of his shin, exiting through the back of his calf. In his panic, he hadn’t even noticed that he had gotten shot… shows what adrenaline can do to a man.
Leaning against a glass wall, he tried to shake off the dizzy, reeling sensation that was overwhelming him. He had no gauze, no medication…
I need to bind this before I fucking pass out. Pulling off his t-shirt, covered in blood, sweat and dirt, he tore a few strips off of it with strong hands, binding his wound tightly before letting his head drop back against the wall. The young man took deep breaths to calm his thundering heart, focusing on his reflection in the glass. He had narrow hazel eyes, tired yet filled with the type of hard determination a man on an important mission would have. A straight nose was smudged with dirt, and blood splattered over his high cheekbones.
Once wavy, short auburn hair was now matted with sweat and more blood, dripping down his forehead and ears. A shadow was growing along his jaw-line and upper lip; shaving wasn’t exactly an option down in Rapture. Looking down at his bare chest, he lazily dipped a finger in the smears of red fluid that stained the sculpted torso. A crooked, mirthless smile that seemed simply tired and weary faltered on his lips for a few moments before his vision turned black.
Mod
message 1747:
by
Iviana (The Sign Painter), The Goddess of indecisiveness
(new)
Mod
Mod
Mod
But it's hell waiting for another post -.-
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Calling all Demigods!
Books mentioned in this topic
Paper Towns (other topics)Boy Meets Boy (other topics)
Will Grayson, Will Grayson (other topics)
Night (other topics)
Happy Birthday to You! (other topics)
Is anyone up to RP wif me?
OMG NO HEALTH TODAY!!!!!!!!!!!!
Rose: She forgot to include when sge almost flipped out on him.
Me: I did not. -.- I just made a gesture that he didn't see.
Rose: You're lucky he rurned away.
Me: HES the lucky one.