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#Post#: 359263--------------------------------------------------
~[μαγικό Βασί&
#955;ειο]~
By: Faith Faris Date: January 12, 2014, 6:54 am
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[Consider those who are deprived of their personal light and
hence will hide behind the light of others, and when they are
faced with the pain consuming them, they will be overwhelmed;
they will understand that facing the truth is sharper than the
edge of any sword. That the truth and the pain it bares is
excruciating, and they should render away from it, to the
farthest and deepest haven they know. Medea's light had
weakened; she was surrounded with chaotic noises but with every
daunting thought in her mind, she had forgotten how to listen
and was slowly going deaf to the sounds she was so accustomed
to. She was unaware of the woman pulling on the laces of her
dress, tightening the corset around her midsection, as if she
wasn’t suffocated enough and telling her to stand straighter.
The metal that pressed so harshly against her vibrant skin drew
blood, but with the churning in her stomach, and the block in
her throat, all she was focused on was getting away, to let it
out. As soon as the woman had finished, she picks either side of
her gown, bolting out of the room, and out of the castle, her
legs taking her as fast as they could to the place she found
most safe; her little haven.]
[The truth; responsibilities are a burden and the load that
Medea carried was uncountable, being the eldest of six
daughters. Today was the day she had to be strongest, but the
vivid images replaying over in her head wouldn’t let her. The
way the rope was tightened around her mother's neck, the way she
called out for help. The death had left its mark on Medea and
rather than celebrating this so called joyful day as her Father
called it, tears ran down her face, sliding over her lips and
down her straight jaw. Her fingers brush away at her cheeks
aggressively; the woman hated being so vulnerable, even though
in this dark cave there was no one to see how hurt she was, no
one to judge her or tell her it was wrong to be weak. She places
a cold hand on her heaving chest, her skin heated, the touch
comforting her and recollects herself, not only for her sisters,
but her Father. There was something about the dim lighting in
the cave, and the thick walls that didn’t let any sound enter
nor leave the threshold that made Medea feel at home. Her
sisters came to her for comfort, they had her to lean on, and so
the woman had come to terms with the fact that she couldn’t be
fragile, even when the only company present was herself.]
[Getting composed, it only made sense now to make her way out of
her cave, heading for the border of the Kingdom, which was
surrounded by tall iron gates, ensuring no one could leave nor
enter the land. The death of her mother had caused her father to
be a little mentally unstable and after that attack, he ensured
that none were to come after. This gate was his closure, but for
Medea it made her feel imprisoned, like she was a bird in a cage
and she yearned for freedom; there was a world outside of theirs
and she wanted nothing more than to be let out to discover it.
By now, the preparations for the festival were done and the
townspeople were probably gathering around, to enjoy the music,
the food and each others company. Her youngest sister was
probably already there, how she enjoyed this day, danced and
laughed as loud as she could. At the thought she giggles,
shaking her head before the bells announce that its time for
everyone to gather.] Oh goody. . . [She whispers, rolling her
eyes before turning her back on the gates to make her way to the
Garden, where for the past eighteen years had remained the place
for the get-together.]
[Even though she had seen it many a times, the decorations of
flowers, lights still managed to take her breath away and as she
looks around, she is aware of some of the eyes fixated on her.
This wasn’t a surprise; after all, she was made up to look her
best. The white gown complemented her in every way possible,
hugging her voluptuous figure and going well with her vibrant
skin. The dark makeup made her sharp blue eyes stand out even
more and the way her dark hair was pulled back framed her face
perfectly; not to mention her down to earth personality.
Greeting the guests with a nod of her head, she looks around for
her sisters, not able to spot any one them, this drawing a frown
from her. With an exasperated sigh, she leans against the table
next to her, arms crossing one another over her chest, full nude
lips plump and smiling as she waits for her father's eminent
speech. On the back of her mind, questions about her sister's
whereabouts lingered and she was completely oblivious of herself
when speaking her thoughts aloud.] Good riddance, where could
they be. . .
#Post#: 359859--------------------------------------------------
Re: ~[μαγικό Βασ	
43;λειο]~
By: Mikasa Date: January 13, 2014, 1:48 pm
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The pinch and pull of a corset is something Hera
would love to forget – to throw to the wind and ignore, allowing
the slight paunch that gathers around her stomach to be free as
the people who roam the town, laughing and yelling over the lull
of merry music that their feet move to. A jump, a hop, an
occasional stumble that tells them that they have indulged in
too many goblets of the sweet wines that permeate the air with
their sickening perfumes. She is but one of four, the second
youngest, the second last to crawl from the womb of their
mother, and ten days late. Whether that is worth mentioning upon
greeting is another issue altogether. To hold a festival so
grand in her honour... is a feat in itself. It is to celebrate
life. A gentle reminder that it is fragile, and a single toe out
of line could push her over into the welcoming arms of death,
where he would stand, clad in black and arms outstretched and
ready to welcome another child into his arms.
It is not surprising that she is the first to
arrive. The others have their rituals, yet she remains without
one. If she ignores that her mother is dead, then she can still
hold quiet whispers when she is afraid; find comfort that eases
the ache that captures her heart when she is alone and thinking.
If she denies it, she is not completely dead – for the dead do
not speak. Amber eyes warily eye the jewels that litter her
bodice and skirts; reds, oranges, yellows all colours of her
element, and overall reflecting the fire that rests in the pit
of her stomach. It is a demon scorned, a sharp reminder that
she is unable to move without permission since her last escape
from the “safety” of the castle walls shall be where is was
born, and if her father had anything to do with it, her tomb.
She could run now. Disappear into the night without
a trace, and use her infantile knowledge of her element to fend
off what lurks in the wilderness, her father's thugs, if need
be. But there are duties. While they may seem unimportant, there
was the protection of her sisters, candles to be lit in the dead
of night when the wax has burned to the candle holder. Simple
things, see?
Though she could certainly do without the finery and
the flowers braided into her auburn mane (curls as unruly as
ever, much to her disdain). She finally catches sight of Medea,
eyes bloodshot and she knows.
Without a single word uttered, Hera silently moves towards her,
hand slipping between her own. “Come dance, sweet sister,” she
whispers, the corners of red-painted lips twitching into a faint
smile – so momentary and fleeting it could easily be mistaken
for a shift in the light. But Medea would know. Hera attempts to
pull her into the crowd, her touches insistent.
“Do not shed tears for her, for she will not bare to see you
weep.”
#Post#: 360136--------------------------------------------------
Re: ~[μαγικό Βασ	
43;λειο]~
By: SPAZZ Date: January 14, 2014, 1:17 am
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It was probably a capital sin to feel this neutral about
everything. Well, not that she didn’t miss her dear mother
with her tauntingly sweet words and brilliant whit. Not that
sometimes, in the middle of the cool night she didn’t
close her eyes and imagined the smooth and frail hands caressing
her complexion like the woman had done a long time ago and no
one dared to do afterwards. Whispering words that mostly made no
sense but always had deep meanings. This exceptional woman had
taught Calliah the most important lessons that any person could
pass on to another human being. If Calliah closed her eyes and
allowed the past to take over the present, she could definitely
relive the moment as a mare spectator instead of being the one
on the receiving end. She could see herself sitting on the floor
with her little legs folded beneath herself. Bony little legs
hidden under a thick and itchy dress that she was forced to wear
–much like the clothes that she had to wear now n’
days-. Playing with a handmade doll that her older sister had
passed on to her since she was ‘too old for dolls’
but not too old to be crawling into her bed in the middle of the
night because she was scared of the wolves. Calliah had always
had so many opinions... You were either old enough to act like
the adults or you were young enough to not be one. But like the
servants –and her parents- often reminded Calliah
‘she didn’t know anything. She was just a
child.’ In this particular memory her mother sat on a
rocking chair not too far from where she was, with her once
juvenile breast hanging free and proud. Not quite succumbing to
the heavy weight of time that made them sag, yet five mouths
–so far-, a husband and the heaviness of the maternal
fluid building deep within, didn’t allow them to be as
proud and perky as Calliah now imagined they would have been
long before her birth was even a thought. Calliah could see the
woman tenderly wiping the corners of the newborn’s mouth,
Mia’s mouth to be exact. ‘There is no such thing as
completely good or completely bad, sweet daughters. We are not
perfect. We are very much imperfect, flawed, full of holes and
ruled by sin. We are not all good, not all bad. That does not
mean that we have an open window to do poorly in life. On the
contrary, one must be one’s best. But it is definitely
refreshing to know that if you do wrong, you are naught the
first or shall be the last to make a mistake. Life goes on. We
go on. Just make sure that your mistake, does not cost you your
life.’ Calliah understood that her mother’s words
were dedicated specially for her.
Tonight was one of the few night that Calliah –kind of-
looked forward to. It was one of the few nights of her whole
existence where they could indulge in ‘almost’
anything that her little grey heart desired. Not only that, but
it was a celebration that was beyond rituals, alcohol and
dancing. Oh and eating, always eating. Her light brown hair was
neatly arranged in a painful bun that made her head hurt a
little, but she did look fabulous. Especially with the two thin
curls that were picked from her bun and thrown as a frame over
her face. So the pain was worth it. What was not worth it, were
the two tight corsets that were forcefully pulled and tugged
until the woman felt lightheaded and weak. WHY DID THEY HAVE TO
DO THIS?! Frankly it made no sense since there were no males to
‘woo’ in this or in any other gathering. Sure, there
would be males, but Calliah was beyond the beyond age for
marriage. Not that her father would allow any of them to marry
anyways. There was no need for her breasts to pour out of her
dress in an almost vulgar manner or for her waist to look so
thin that it could be held on to with only one wide, masculine
hand. Calliah and her five sisters were trapped behind these
forsaken walls like flies in the mouth of a carnivorous plant.
One that slowly closed its mouth while the six little flies laid
helpless and still...and squeezed… squeezed…
squeezed… Her hazel eyes closed as she felt the walls of
her stomach sort of press on to each other with that last
squeeze from Cora’s callous hands. This couldn’t be
healthy but it was part of the culture she supposed. Hey, she
didn’t make or break society’s rules. She just
followed, unless the one leading was completely stupid.
“You must wear the corsets more often Miss. Calliah. That
way you will have the perfect shape, like your sisters.”
The seamstress grumbled behind her rancid breath. ‘Yeah,
and you should really stop hiding behind shadowy curtains to lay
with the cook’s husband. I can see it all, hag. I am the
shadow itself, don’t you know? I take over when you blow
out your candle and lay your head to rest. Even when the sun is
up I am the one that you stand under to protect yourself from
the heat. I AM the very darkness that you hide in. I AM
everywhere… Do you think that I need to be ‘as
pretty as my sisters?’ I have more than what they ever
will have because I have it all.’ But all that came from
her lips was “Yes Cora.” And a reassuring nod.
“Good. Now look at me… Yes, yes... Oh no...My, my,
my, you must go out and let the sun give you some color. It is
not good for the circulation to be so pale my dear. Tomorrow you
are going out to the garden to have tea with your sisters. Now
smile.” Cora continued to pick on things that were
supposed to make Calliah want to be as pretty, vital, tanned,
tall, mighty, poise as the rest of her sisters. However, all
that the criticism made her want to do was tell the cook that
her loving husband was going more than trim the roses. He was
picking other rosebuds, If you know what I mean.
After having her cheeks pinched to the point that they turned a
stinking, bright pink. Having her lips painted a deep purple
color. Having a virginal-white dress thrown and tied just as
tightly as her corset with incrusted little stones that
glistened whenever the light hit them and lastly, standing in a
pair of not-too-high silver heels, the third eldest sister made
her way out of the room. Holding on to the ruffled skirt that
fell below her waist and gave the illusion that she had wider
hips that what she really had. The dress was not too fluffy or
puffy, not like a ball gown, no. Close to it, but not as flashy.
Calliah was not very svelte or voluptuous. She was barely five
foot and two inches with small features, big eyes, short arms
and legs and not a lot of skin over her bones. Not as pretty as
her sisters or as verbal as some. But she did have very strong
opinions that she kept to herself for the sake of her
family’s well being. She loved her sisters more that life
itself… She just didn’t like them all the time. Love
was mandatory but liking allowed one to choose. And even that
was rare among the six sisters. Life had pretty much chosen for
them. Calliah was quite forgettable and this wasn’t a
reason to be upset or jealous. She preferred it like this.
Probably a trait from her ‘gift’ –being able
to blend in with the shadows. Control them. Play with them as if
they had life and she were their caregiver…This
didn’t mean that she was ALL darknes. Calliah was grey.
Not quite darkness, not quite light. Even though, she preferred
the darkness.
Well, the night was young but she was already running late. Two,
three, four steps and the bells rang. A sigh escaped her lips
because even if she ran, she would never make it in time to
please her eldest sister. ‘Me-Falcon eye-dea’
Calliah liked to call her inside her head -never to her face
because she hadn't irritated her enough so far. Or
‘mother-in-a-jar’ because she was not the same as
their dear mother… but good enough to suffice one’s
needs. So Falcon Eyes, would give her an earful if she just
‘appeared’ instead of walking there like the rest.
Someone could see yada-yada-talk-talk-talk. But no one ever
actually saw Calliah, so what made a difference? However this
was no excuse for her to ‘take it easy’ instead she
tried to hurry down the hall as fast as her short legs allowed
her to. Hoping that at least one of the six was so late that
Mother-In-A-Jar concentrated the nagging on that particular hag
and just sprinkled little disappointed glares at her. 'Someone
break a heel. Someone break a heel!'
#Post#: 360139--------------------------------------------------
Re: ~[μαγικό Βασ	
43;λειο]~
By: jazzhandz_ Date: January 14, 2014, 1:26 am
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Knock Knock Knock
No response. Three more knocks, this time louder. I lift my head
slightly to peek out the window, and squint at the sun, burying
my face back into my pillow. Bad decision, Mia. Bad decision.
The sun is NOT your friend when you’ve got a terrible headache
like this. I need my medicine. I reach for the dark bottle on
the floor blindly and bring it to my lips, drinking heavily, the
alcohol burning my parched throat. Already I can feel the pain
in my head start to subside. Then there’s yet another set of
knocks on the door, each one echoing in my head. “Alright,
alright.” I grumble, and climb out of bed. I open the heavy
wooden door and quickly move aside as my seamstress, Cora,
barges in, her arms full of fabric. Oh, no. I forgot. How could
I forget? I watch as Cora hastily drops the fabric onto my
unmade bed and begins rushing around the room, trying to get
everything she needs to get me ready. I just watch her for a
minute, waiting for everything to process, in my nightgown and
bare feet, bottle in hand. “Come on, miss! Your father is going
to be upset if you miss the beginning of his speech and you know
it!” I shake my head and set the bottle on my wooden dresser,
set across from my bed. “I can dress myself, Cora. You go ahead,
let them know I’m on my way.” Cora starts to object, but her
eyes glance over at the bottle, then back into my eyes. She
takes a deep breath and nods, turning to leave. “Thank you.” I
say softly, closing the door as she leaves.
Minutes later, I’m dressed in my everyday clothing – a long
white sleeveless dress with a long leather strap wrapped around
my waist a few times in place of a belt, and bare feet. No
makeup, no elegant up-do. I let my long strawberry blonde waves
cascade passed my waist. I snatch the bottle from my dresser and
have a seat in front of my vanity mirror. I look into my
piercing green eyes and bring the bottle back to my bare lips,
drinking feverishly, trying to get rid of the huge lump that’s
lodged itself in my throat. I finish the bottle and toss it into
the corner of my room, but not roughly enough that it breaks. I
keep eye contact with myself the whole time, “You can do this.”
I reassure myself. “Keep your back straight, chin up, and a
smile on your face.” I sit up straight and close my eyes. I know
this is supposed to be a “celebration” of my mother’s life, but
how can I celebrate that? I never got to meet my mother. Well,
not that I can remember anyway. I’m supposed to go down there,
listen to my father give a speech about a woman I don’t know,
listen to everyone tell stories about someone I never had the
privilege of meeting before. Whatever. I take a steadying breath
before opening my eyes and looking at myself, this time to make
sure I look alright. Good enough.
I get up and head toward the door, walking passed the pile that
was supposed to be my outfit for this evening. Once I’m out the
door, I start running towards the opening of the forest where my
little log cabin is located, where I can see the massive
building where my sisters live. I sprint up the front steps and
stop to nod at the guards before flying through the halls,
trying to get to the back door where the garden is located. The
large clock chimes loudly, reminding me that I’m late. Oh well.
It’s not like they were really expecting me to be on time.
Especially since I don’t even live with them! I cut a corner and
“Oh!” I bump into someone so hard, I fall back on my bum. I look
up to see one of my older sisters, Calliah looking as stunning
as ever. I stay on the cool marble floor for a moment, trying to
gather myself and slow my breathing.
[[OOC: Sorry it's short and it sucks - I haven't RP'ed in
FOREEEVVEERR.]]
#Post#: 360140--------------------------------------------------
Re: ~[μαγικό Βασ	
43;λειο]~
By: Chloe Date: January 14, 2014, 2:12 am
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Nagging, prying fingers peeled back her heavy eyelids with their
ever eager neediness as they did every morning. The sun's
fingers could never leave her be, could never leave her sleep
long enough to truly satisfy her needs. Golden, honey eyes peer
through the haze of sleep, sun kissed orbs catching the glimmer
of the sun, and setting ablaze a wild gaze as she stretches out
her body with a very feline-esque yawn, body bending, and
twisting in such odd ways, such inhuman manners. Ambrosia
slipped from the pearl satin sheets of her bed, her wild mane of
chestnut hair falling about her heart shaped face in messed,
untamed tresses. Her wild eyes gazed at her nude reflection in
the mirror of the vanity provided to her by suitors, or some
such. She didnt much understand the need for such gifts, such
traditions. She'd rather a man woo her by showing his dominance
in combat, glamour her with his roar, his seductive, wild gaze.
A lethargic sigh slipped from luscious, naked lips as she
dropped her nude frame upon the settee in the corner of her
room. Long, lean legs stretched out on the beige suede, her
slender arms raising to dangle over the arm that her head rested
upon. Such a sleepy kitty. Such a tired, lazy, wild woman.
Today was the day that her mother's life would be celebrated,
and the festivals, and celebrations would be carried out in
honor of her life. She didnt quite get this tradition either.
But she'd have to appease the crowds, make an appearance to
please Momma Bird...who would most definitely be keeping a look
out for the cub of six sisters. Just then, her ears picked up
the hasty steps of an all too pushy seamstress. Cora burst
through Ambrosia's bedroom doors without so much as a knock, her
beady little eyes falling upon the shamelessly naked body of an
even more shameless female. Those beady eyes widened in
surprise, why, Ambi would never know. She'd burst through those
doors to the same image every morning, the annoying little hag.
Wild, honey eyes glared Cora down, zoning in on the angry pulse
that thudded dully in her little throat. Oh how she'd love to
sink her teeth in there, and silence the old bat
permanently....Momma Bird wouldnt like that very much. She'd
cage the beast for now, force the primal urges back as she
lifted a seemingly clawed hand, running those long nails through
the mess that was her hair.
Cora narrowed beady grey eyes, and placed her knuckles on her
hips, bird like lips pursing in frustration as she ushered
Ambrosia from the comfort of her settee,"Come now, Miss
Ambrosia. Must you always be so indecent? You're always the most
work with your wild curls, and that temper of yours. Hmph! I
wish you'd not eye me like a meal." She puffed out a breath as
she dragged the wild girl over to the vanity, skinny fingers
edging a corset toward her slender midsection. Oh no no, we
couldnt have that. It was already bad enough that her, and her
sister's were trapped in this kingdom, she wouldnt feel like she
was also trapped in her body, and clothes. An almost feral growl
rumbled in her throat as she spun around, and grabbed the corset
from the woman's hands. Tossing it across the room, she shoved
the woman from her quarters,"You'll not suffocate me in that
binding atrocity, you Old Hag!" Shoving Cora out into the
hallway, she slammed the door in the woman face, a huff puffing
out from her lips,"Ill dress myself. Be on your way!" She
growled through the door, those wild eyes glaring, daring the
woman to come back through that wooden entrance.
It was almost satisfying when she heard a frustrated huff, and
angry footfalls retreating from her door. With her victory still
fresh in her mind, she pranced to her wardrobe, through open the
doors, and retrieved from it a soft purple gown that would hang
from her slender, toned body comfortably, lose, but not too much
that her curves werent noticed. She threw it over her head, and
then gazed at herself in the mirror of the vanity once more. She
loved how the gown accented her breasts the most, she felt more
womanly, more mature even if she wasnt truly harnessing a fully
developed body. She then eyed the markings on her arms, the
tattoos done by Momma Bird herself with a needle, and ink.
Ambrosia ran a brush through her wild mane, and tied a bandanna
around her head as an accessory. Slipping on a pair of flats,
she completed her look, a simple, yet presentable outfit for the
celebrations of the day.
Ambrosia slipped out of her room, and dashed from the castle as
the bells began to ring, her heart racing just as fast as her
feet when she realized that she may be late. Momma Bird wouldnt
like this either, but the excitement, and thrill of that made
her grin. The woman reached the festivities five minutes after
the bells had stopped ringing, and dash slowing to a fast walk
until she was in the middle of the party. The odd cub sniffed at
the air scenting out her sisters, and finding Momma Bird, and
Hera at a table. She slipped herself into a chair beside Medea,
and sprawled out, never the one to accept etiquette, and
traditions. The wild girl lounged there, body language very
feline in look. Her wild eyes gazed around the festivities
curiously. A huff puffing from her lips. Her eyes then fell upon
her elder sisters, watching as Hera pulled Momma Bird away. Ambi
sighed, which was followed by a yawn, and remained where she was
seated. She'd wait for something more exciting to happen.
#Post#: 360388--------------------------------------------------
Re: ~[μαγικό Βασ	
43;λειο]~
By: SPAZZ Date: January 14, 2014, 3:06 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Calliah was distracted between scattered thoughts about their
venue. Sure she had helped out with the SAME decorations as
every year. Lots of flowers, candles, subtle music, satin
mantels, ironed curtains and thick smiles over the
daughter’s faces. She could tell who was going to sit at
what table, who wasn’t going to be sitting at what table
and where did she need to sit in order to blend in with the
rest. In the middle. Not too close to the eldest and not too
close to the youngest. Since they usually attracted the most
attention… It was important to keep appearances for her
father’s sake though, only then one could be truly
invisible. Don’t forget the occasional tear for the
burning eyes of the spectators that judged them between whispers
every time that someone drank too much, talked too much, yawned
too much or smiled too much. One had to be sad, but not too
destroyed! Joyful, but not too happy! Beautiful, but not
seductive! Sensual, but not looking like any common whore!
Between thoughts and trying to hurry, Calliah’s steps were
the only thing that she could hear approaching in quick little
taps. Soon enough the chattering and settling of their guests
would come to a second plane. Good! Her father hadn’t even
started and she could tell that he had not even taken his place
since people were still talking way too loud. Calliah’s
face lifted, she could see the table where one of her sisters
was already sitting at the end of the hall. Good God! Why did
this hallway seem much longer now than it was earlier that day?!
Just as Calliah’s pace started to quicken, this unknown
force struck her from a side. The third eldest squealed and
almost fell over. Her meek body ready for a very painful fall
that could have even broken something since it was one of those
‘side to the floor-head to the wall’ type of hits.
But, her shadows were always there to protect her. With that
same squeal, the hallway went pitch dark and this thick pillow
of darkness solidified around the tilting side. Serving as some
sort of coil that didn’t allow her to smack the wall, much
less the floor and instead made the woman spring back up with
enough time to sort of stabilize herself and look around
dumbfounded. What in God’s name had happened?! And then
she saw the silhouette of one of her younger sisters on the
floor. Could even tell who it was by her tone of voice; Mia.
“Good God Mia, watch where you’re going. You can
really hurt yourself or someone else. Come, we are late and
Medea will use this as an excuse to send you to a
convent.” Joked the sister but didn't seem amused. Mia
really needed to clean up her act and start paying more
attention. She wasn't worried for her well being however, these
sorts of things happened every day around this kid. With a quick
wave of Calliah's hand, the lights in that particular hall were
restored and with that, the dark pillow that had prevented her
fall dissipated. Her hands extended to hold on to her
sister’s and pull her to a stand with a low grunt. She was
either too weak, or her sister had to lay off the pastries
because she felt heavy. Probably a mixture of both.
Curling her fingers around Mia’s tender hand, the shortest
sister pulled Mia to a stand and quickly started fixing the
skirt of the other’s dress. Trying to smooth out the few
wrinkles that she assumed the fall had caused. But no matter how
much she smoothed and hand-ironed them, they still didn’t
seem to disappear. Well, they would have to stay that way since
they had no time. “Let us go.” Commanded Calliah and
hurried down the hall, looking back to make sure that Mia was
going the right way since heavens knew Mia wasn’t the
brightest-minded sister. Sort of scattered brained –even
when she wasn’t pretending to be sober-.
At last Calliah reached the long table in which the six sisters
were expected to sit. Ambrosia –always so lady llike- was
already sitting there with a quite comical expression. Ambi was
always looking stunning though, always taunting and daring like
only the spoiled brat of the family could get away with.
Mother-in-a-jar being dragged away by Hera. Great! She couldn't
see the faces of the two that were leaving but she guessed that
they would both look as exotically beautiful as ever. Why did
she have to get her father’s completely mortal features?!
The third sister pulled out a chair. Leaving two spaces between
Ambrosia and herself because she didn’t want to catch her
crazy… That was a joke! She really just left a few spaces
to not sit besides the younger sister. Remember? Oldest and
youngest always attract more attention. The thought made the
brunette smirk however. Her brain was funny. “I love your
dress Ambi. Looks good on you too.” Calliah said as she
took a seat, running her hands over her bum to tuck in the back
of her dress. Also scooting closer to the table until half of
her body had disappeared behind the white table cloth.
‘Madea will LOVE IT. She will definitely LOVE it.
He-He…hehe…Hehehe!’ Calliah thought and just
smiled.
#Post#: 360551--------------------------------------------------
Re: ~[μαγικό Βασ	
43;λειο]~
By: Faith Faris Date: January 15, 2014, 12:56 am
---------------------------------------------------------
[Power; Medea was in possession of some power in the sense that
her anger would influence the behavior of her sisters who were
determined to antagonize her judging by the fact that only Hera
was present. A few hours long was the commemoration of their
Mother, and being punctual was already proving to be one of the
hardest things for her sisters to do. Ignorant they were to the
crying pleas in her heart for how would they comprehend the pain
in it when they haven’t had to suffer such a pain. Under her
skin, the warmest sensation latched onto her veins; Medea
disregarded the poison boiling and circulating within her,
controlling the temperature to a moderate rate as not to startle
Hera, though why would the queen of fire be repulsed when heat
was her intimate escape? Deep iced eyes take some time to look
over her sisters features, noticing the –somewhat- abrupt smile.
The scarlet sister seemed hesitant herself, inviting her to
dance, body and mind in dispute with each other. Of all her
sisters Hera was most intact with her senses. Gesturing, with
her forefinger, for just a minute, she turns hastily on her
heels, looking over the girls that had arrived, gaze fixating on
Ambi, addressing not her, but Calliah and Mia.] Calliah, if
again, she is in the state she had been in yesterday I will
have, not only her, but you thrown off your chairs and into your
rooms. . . Ambrosia [A hint of sarcasm shadows over her tone of
voice, the sides of her lips tugging up portraying her whole
hearted and genuine sisterly humor.] Please, don’t look so
ladylike.
[In this very moment her body was solidly present but everything
around was a blur, like a montage; Medea felt horribly guilty
for the absence of their Mother though her sisters were unaware;
interlocking her fingers with Hera's, her body begins to
automatically sway and glide to the rhythm of the music, in a
pitiable attempt to distract herself. What did she need
distraction from? There was a discrete darkness overpowering her
mind, taking over like a poisonous reaction, toying with
something that was ultimately the source of dire choices. If she
decided, for one minute to feed to the power, she would
unquestionably go insane and be banished from the Kingdom. With
elegance, she parts from Hera, making her way to their table, to
take a seat next to Ambi, the youngest. Medea couldn’t help but
empathize with her; without the guidance of a Mother the weight
of the world itself could hang on your shoulders and though she
had a strong bond and tried to take the place of a Mother for
her, having raised the girl herself, she knew nothing could come
close to the affection of a mother.]
[Love; the affection of a mother was everlasting. It is the
warmth in your stomach and the voice supporting you to pursue
your heart and not your mind. It is she who fights for your word
to be right when the whole world will stand before her and tell
her it's wrong; but she wouldn't believe them. For it is she
that understands you, that could relate to any pain, anger,
discomfort you undergo.]
[Medea's eyes, as blue as the open skies above them and as
piercing as the ice you would greet in winter seemed secluded,
lost in thought. Her thoughts had taken her back to the first
time she had killed somebody, separated from reality. The moment
the knife had pierced the skin of her opponent, and drawn enough
blood, to squirt over her too, she had felt agitated. Maybe it
had been over thinking that moment beforehand repeatedly that
had lead her to be so clouded, but she certainly hadn’t been
proud, she should have been. It was the overall thought of
emotion that had lead her to these array opinions in the first
place; how many didn't have control of their emotions, while
others had mastered the technique and the art of concealing it
flawlessly. Over years of training she had come to gain
knowledge of one thing though; there was a breaking point for
everybody. A point in someone's life where they would rather die
and be absolutely free of the tresses of reality; and be thrown
into the coldness of the grave rather than simply live, a point
she didn't wish upon anyone but her enemies. It would be the
point where pain has no limit, and so when her consciousness
floats back to her form, her gaze lands on Ambi once more,
promising herself that she wouldn’t let her sister even get near
to feeling that way.]
[She takes her sisters hand, taking a quick glance at the
tattoos that cover her naked arm, her own piece of art. Fingers
intertwine, lips smile and she looks ahead at everyone else,
expectant to be joined not only by Hera but Helena also; but
where was the second eldest? She becomes conscious of the fading
music behind her the moment it ceased, and in the sudden compute
of silence, she decides to let her Mother finally go; eighteen
years was a long time to hold onto something that evidently
wasn’t coming back. It is in this moment, that Medea feels
–somewhat- free; like if a whole wing was the representation of
freedom, she would have only one feather.]
#Post#: 360552--------------------------------------------------
Re: ~[μαγικό Βασ	
43;λειο]~
By: SKSeporoMarashaki Date: January 15, 2014, 2:56 am
---------------------------------------------------------
Drakon sat in his room. No no no... That is not what Drakon did.
Drakon lowered himself into the leather chair that sat in the
corner of his small house. Being a guard of the Royal court,
there wasn't much else to do than sit around and continue his
training. Once his ass was firmly planted inside the squishy
seat of the chair, Drakon began his mental training. Drakon
always considered the development of the mind just as important
as the conditioning of the body. With this in mind, anyone who
entered the room at that exact moment may witness one of the
finest soldiers lifting himself from the ground and floating,
with his chair, over to the other side and set it back down.
Then once more. Each movement became more elaborate until Drakon
was flipping himself through the air in the chair in which he
sat.
It wasn't until he was in the middle of his rotations did the
rapping upon his door pull him from the middle of his fifth
move, a simple one from one part to the next. Instead of landing
himself upon the ground once more, he continued his way along
the floor and opened the door, still floating about an inch from
the ground, now straining to keep himself up. "Time to stop
messing around, Drakon, You are on duty."
The chair slammed to the floor as he released it, a sigh
escaping his lips as he wiped his brow with his forearm and
smirked at the man at his door. "So I am guessing that means I
cannot wash up before going to meet them, aye friend?" The man
at the door, who most of the soldiers refereed to as the
timekeeper, grinned, shaking his head. Drakon, exasperated,
moved back to his closet, pulling out a kilt and slipping it
onto his body. Finally covering his nude self with clothing. He
didn't mind traveling around the barracks completely naked, but
the other men seemed less thrilled by it, especially when their
women stared at him.
Once his kilt was on, he lifted his chains from the table and
brought them to him with his ability, sliding his neck into them
as they landed. "Well, I guess I should be going. Everyone knows
you don't make the royal court wait for their protection."
Drakon walked into his boots, leaning down and pulling the
straps tight before standing at the door, ready to leave.
"Alright. Let's go." Reaching his hand out, a wooden staff
floated into his fingers, the staff was very carefully carved to
look Three Dimensional, The dragon flowing the entire way along
the staff, the tail side of the staff had a small bladed whip
dangling idly from the wood. While on the head of the staff, the
dragon's mouth opened into an obsidian blade, which gave the
staff the effect of the dragon breathing black fire,
"Lead the way, friend." And so he followed timekeeper towards
his role, actually hoping he was placed on guard duty, and not
stuck with those women again.
#Post#: 360616--------------------------------------------------
Re: ~[μαγικό Βασ	
43;λειο]~
By: Beralai Date: January 15, 2014, 3:23 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
The rays of the sun cut through the leaves of the forest canopy,
finding it's way within the confines of his mask, assaulting his
eyelids with news that morning had arrived. His eyes opening as
he cast his gaze upward to the canopy, seeing their vibrancy
contrasted with aid of the sun. Taking in a breath through his
nose, he sat himself up and glanced about his area, scratching
the back of his head before standing up, muttering to himself.
"Where am..." He heard the sounds of a river about half a mile
away and forgot his question, realizing how dry his throat was.
Opening his palm, his scabbard "snapped" into his palm, tying it
to his belt with determination before setting off towards the
river.
Breaking the forest boundary, he looked out upon the ledge he
now stood, his black clothes tattered after his travels, his
boots about the same respect. His mask, in the same perfect
condition as the day he made it; stood out in sharp contrast to
his clothes, almost seeming like a floating face, the shadows
seeming to do their best to keep in within their grasp. The
handle of the blade seeming to be made out of Ebony, the
scabbard as ordinary as any other.
His gaze broke out across the land, seeing the Kingdom not too
far off, really close to the river and he smiled. "Well, how
'bout that?" He commented to himself. He wouldn't of thought he
would be this close to civilization, having secluded himself for
so long. How long had it been? He stopped and looked down,
pondering the question as his tattered clothes and gear
re-threaded and repaired itself into their original form. He
finally shook his head, giving up on the question and started
his way around the ledge so he could start his way to the town.
After an hour and a half of walking, he came upon the walls of
the City, noticing the Gates were Drawn he stood there and
called out, hoping for a Guard of some sort to answer. His voice
surprisingly strong for how long he'd remained silent in his
solitude. "Hello? Why are the gates drawn? It's mid-morning!"
#Post#: 360666--------------------------------------------------
Re: ~[μαγικό Βασ	
43;λειο]~
By: MrMaru Date: January 15, 2014, 8:57 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Difficulties often arose whilst dealing with the ruling of
kingdoms and empires. There were wars, invasions, renaissances,
and other numerous things which accompany being the ruler of a
kingdom. These difficulties, however, were merely measures by
which a king would later be judged; the things which make
history or break empires and legacies. This one such day was the
beginning of a true new age. The king, of course, had his plans;
drastic plans.
So, this day, the king decided to pass a royal decree which
would forever solidify the kingdom. Of course, he held a very
deep and dark agenda as to how to obtain absolute power. Of
course, though, he wouldn't tell the people that. He'd been
stricken with a depression since his wife's passing.. a
depression which drove him to absolutely insane; the desire to
protect overwhelming all others. Shortly, he turned and
sauntered to the balcony of the keep where he'd make his
glorious speech; forever dignifying himself and the lands to the
annals of greatness.
A voice thunders out, out upon the balcony; booming over the
kingdom. "My fellow Achelouns! Stand and bow for the Lord High
Master of the world. Allow yeselves to bask in His Royal
Majesty's godly presence, that ye may be evermore enlightened as
to our Messiah's words!" Then, the sounds of trumpets begin to
echo through the streets; electing the epic to continue. "It is
without further adieu.. That I present our great king.. King
Achelous!" Then, with but a confusing array of bootseps, the
king appears.
Donning only the finest silken threads of the highest count in
all the lands, accentuated by golden accents and embroideries,
the king doth enter. Looking around, a smile upon his lips and
nary a furrow upon his brow, Achelous raised his right hand;
clenched tight in a fist, as he looked out. Finally, upon
lowering his hand, the king began. "Citizens of these fair lands
of Achelous, it is with humble dignity that I bring unto you..
the news of my late wife.. and the vacancy left at my side."
Then, pausing, he waited for a moment before speaking again.
"However! Despite her passing, while she may be mourned, this is
a time to reinstate that which has been lost in translation for
many moons. We stand, now, upon the precipice of a golden era!"
Then, pacing back and forth for a moment, he continued. "This is
a day of celebration. My daughters, of course, are exceptionally
important to me. Having said that, however, I require a
'replacement' queen. However, for the time, let us get on with
the celebration, and embark upon the new Golden Age of the
Kingdom of Achelouna!"
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