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#Post#: 30748--------------------------------------------------
Que and Pride.
By: Rilo Never Bask In Glory Date: November 20, 2011, 9:31 pm
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xD
#Post#: 30815--------------------------------------------------
Re: Que and Pride.
By: Rilo Never Bask In Glory Date: November 20, 2011, 10:20 pm
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[center]Pride- A high or inordinate opinion of one's own
dignity, importance, merit, or superiority, whether as cherished
in the mind or as displayed in bearing, conduct, etc. Did she
fall under that definition? No, she fell under- becoming or
dignified sense of what is due to oneself or one's position or
character; self-respect; self-esteem. For years she was
ridiculed for her hair color, her eye color, her oddly tanned
skin. The Egyptian woman had one hell of a life. Abusive people
ran in her life like water ran around rocks in a creek. White
hair and emerald eyes, dark tan skin; she was a beauty in flesh.
Though no one could ever really understand that. Her thick
accent went unheard as did even her voice. Not even her cries as
a child were heard when she was having the crap beat out of her.
At one point, she had met someone, a boy who was around her age;
and he had the same issues she did. He was constantly teased as
well. Martinique, that was his name. She had liked him, that was
her friend. Then she got separated from him. More abuse, more
loneliness, more hell came to her life as she was pulled away
from the one place she could call okay. The place she adored,
which was the large oak tree that was hollow on the inside. She
had always gone to that tree and had hid in it when ever she was
being hurt. Every time, she'd go and hide in that tree, no one
could find her but Martinique.
Where had those days gone to? She had been dragged off by her
father to a whole other town, a place where people were far more
cruel to her. Suffering for years, it had taken so much for her
to build up a tolerance. When she built up that tolerance,
everything shattered. She went ballistic, there wasn't any hope
for anyone else who dared to lay a hand on her now. Over the
years of her being the prideful and vengeful woman, she now
stood in the old town that she had once called home. A blank
face betrayed no emotion as she walked down the paths in the
woods. 'Was it here?' She thought to herself, her eyes shadowing
over tree after tree until she finally found that old oak tree.
This brought a small smile to her lips as she set her large
black canvas dufflebag down and climbed into the tree. A sigh of
content came from her lips as she leaned back against the
hollows of the tree, looking up at the small streams of light
that came through the little knots. "Time sure has gone by
fast.." She muttered, scarred flesh ever so apparent as she
thought on what exactly she could do with this tree now. Maybe
make a home out of it? Possibly, but she had only saved up
enough money to last her about a month. She'd have to get a job.
Frowning, she crawled from the tree and picked up her bag, going
into town.
Once she arrived there, people stared at her. Those stunning
green eyes and white hair contrasted against tanned flesh as she
walked. Wearing a silk white button up shirt and black shorts
with black suspenders and simple shoes, she didn't look like she
was very feminine at all. Stopping at what seemed to be a club
of sorts, she tilted her head before she shook it slightly in
disapproval. "I couldn't work there.. Not with how I look." She
muttered before she sighed and kept walking. Eyes ever searching
before she laid them upon a simple looking labor business.
Trodding right up to the male who seemed to be in charge, she
spoke with him and he laughed at her for a moment before she had
demonstrated her unbelievable strength by picking up two steel
frame bars, placing them on top of one another before bending
them into a double eight shape. "How the fuck!?" He had said and
she just shifted her hands to her hips and smirked. "I'm your
average super woman, that's how." She said with a scoff. The man
instantly hired her and she began to work. Though rumors had
spread to her in her earlier years about Martinique dying and
such, she didn't really know what to believe. Either way, it
didn't matter. That was too long ago. She couldn't focus on it.
[/center]
#Post#: 30821--------------------------------------------------
Re: Que and Pride.
By: Eri Date: November 20, 2011, 10:22 pm
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-_- Que...tch. -Goes to post.-
#Post#: 30854--------------------------------------------------
Re: Que and Pride.
By: Rilo Never Bask In Glory Date: November 20, 2011, 10:39 pm
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xD I said I'd call him Que didn't I? xD
#Post#: 30907--------------------------------------------------
Re: Que and Pride.
By: Eri Date: November 20, 2011, 11:13 pm
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[center]All these pieces, mixed hues, forgotten pieces,
forgotten hues. Where did they belong? He was missing the rest
of the puzzle, or was he the puzzle missing the pieces?
Something didn't fit, something didn't click, something left him
agitated, irate, truly insufferable as a being. Two pieces he
was missing, only two to complete the puzzle. The power he
needed, one of the biggest pieces, the most important, bottom
left-hand corner. Then there was that middle piece, the
importance of the puzzle, the entire focus of the printed and
placed picture. The face was missing in this puzzle, it's piece
long gone, where had it gone? That piece was necessary. It
wasn't just some corner piece that could be overlooked, no, it
WAS the piece, the piece of focus, of want and desire. That
damn face, that damnable, wretched whore's face. He seethed at
the thought, seethed entirely, hatred bubbling at the fact that
it was necessary. He hated that woman. Hated her with a fiery
passion.
[/center]
[center]A small boy, hair cropped short and incredibly close to
his skull, femininely colored to the point that other male
children mocked him for it. Girly, weird, strange, funny.
Teal-blue eyes that used to lie so dead, blackened clothes
always scuffed from daily beatings, the harrassments of children
seeming to neverend to only leave him breathless and broken.
"Brother, you got hurt again at school today, Maria saw it."
That voice. It made him ache. That voice...it was like God had
met him. Just hearing it as he trudged through the door of the
empty household to find that one person, it would always make
his eyes sting with warmth and he'd find himself, everytime,
buried into that woman's body. Shuddering, crying, hands
twisted so tightly into the hair running down her mid-back that
perhaps he had pulled a few strands out."Don't worry, Brother.
God has something good in mind for us in the future, this
suffering is just the price we have to pay for our better
futures." The hope implanted everytime, the way he trembled in
her arms, looking upwards as she wiped the tears from his eyes,
a girl that he saw as the strongest woman in his life caring for
him. "Just remember Maria always loves you, Brother. Maria
promises you this."
[/center]
[center]Wretched whore. A pondering form awakening in the
depths of darkness. A gray world for eyes almost as gray within
these years. Locks of violet and pink trailing across the gray
sheets, a form slowly looming into a sitting position, the
faintest lines of dawn painting across the sheets, touching upon
a deathly pale back that remained in place for a moment, not
even the faintest signs of breathing to be seen. Another day to
find that wretched piece, complete that damnable puzzle. The
body slumped upwards and slid off the bed, sheets dropping to
reveal the forever lean form of a man who's years had been kind
to him, slim form yet lithely built, milky skin accented by the
locks cascading downwards towards his knees, a single, solitary
hand adorned with many silver rings pressing upwards through the
silken bangs, pushing them back with a closed gaze as his head
tilted backwards, not praying but considering before pressing
himself into the morning rituals that were of no use, serving no
purpose. That wretched bitch. Filthy slut. He fucking hated
her with a passion.
[/center]
[center]Growing older, the boy grew. Taller and slimmer,
strangely beautiful yet horrifically saddened by any gaze that
ever touched upon his form. He had grown in more ways than one.
People who had dared touched him never dared again, frightened
by icy hatred within the depthless, empty voids within his gaze.
His attire had grown more gentlemanly, hair longer throughout
his years, refusing to cut off what others had deemed "far too
feminine". He would never cut it, it could not be
done..."Maria...I want to cut my hair..." A confused glance from
the woman at his bedside, both forms looking upwards upon the
ceiling though both knew the other was not awake, their familiar
breaths and heat allowing them such knowledge. A confused
glance from the matching teal irises, head lightly turning with
a shift under the pillow, many frowning upon such closeness in
their adolescence though they cared naught. "Why do you say
that, Martinique?" Another shift as the body beneath the sheets
turned to face him, his own mimicking the movement so that both
their faces were shadowed by identical locks, his gaze turned
towards the side in slight shame, fingers touching upon the
bruises along his arms with a faintly cold voice leaking from
the depths of his lips. "It's...girly...right? All the other
men at school...they don't grow their hair out like this..."
Eyes closed faintly as if trying to convince himself of his
decision, opening only as a slight tug against his bangs made
his eyes faintly part to see the angel smiling at him, a strange
emotion flowing, a pounce of horror within his chest.
"Martinique, I love your hair. Keep it how it is." That emotion
he felt staring at that brilliant smile, breath taken away as
she bid good night, turning her back so that all he met were the
glorious, silken strands of her own matching hair. The first
night that he realized that emotion, the one whom his fate had
to be destined with even if he had to tangle the strings of fate
himself.
[/center]
[center]Detestable wretch. Horrible woman. Hands worked
swiftly to button a vest as black as coal over the purple-tinted
button-up he wore, blackened slacks already in place with the
matching black shoes, each hand assisting the other to set in
place whitened gloves, pulling them taught before they
mindlessly picked up the blackened ribbon, stopping for a moment
to toy with the silken fabric. Inbred whore. Disgusting skank.
He hated that woman.
[/center]
[center]Those years had appeared. The last in the joke that was
his life. The nights spent in agony, bedside manner all he
would ever remember. Pestilence and terror, a single night of
peace never had. Not due to the fact his stomach lay empty for
every bit of consumption equaled in similar regurgitation, lips
forever stained with the taste of bile whilst those sickly
tears seemed to forever stain his cheeks, a single hand grasping
the hand similar to his own. He would have turned in those
moments to gaze upon that face of the smiling angel who had
shared his bed throughout his entire life, but if he did, all he
would have seen would be that of a single, distorted shape
hidden underneath a white sheet, the faintest hues of a few
stray locks of violet and pink, forever losing their sheen.
"Maria...you said God would have had better plans for us..." A
sob from a grown man, what did it matter if she saw him cry.
His life was as good as dead, the Plague they were suffering
from being sure for that. The woman had turned her head with
obvious struggle, offering a rotting smile while her lips parted
as if to say some more words, words he would have happily clung
to in his selfish desire, yet all that came out was a vicious,
crimson-ridden cough, the movement she made showin obvious, and
horrific pain upon her part with her hand trudging from
underneath the pillow, holding outwards a single strap of
blackened, silk fabric, smiling her scarlet shaded smile with
roses blooming upon the corners of her eyes once more. "When I
get to heaven...Martinique...I'll ask God to spare you. I...
love your hair, Martinique...When you get better...promise to
tie it up someday...I...imagine you'll look very...v..very
nice..." A body racked with coughs as he watched, a hand barely
able to hold it's weight as it clasped upon hers, watching as
those teal pools he adored died out in a fit of red rivers, the
hand he held going slack. Cold. Empty. His hand left with a
single ribbon, his heart tearing to shatters. Did his parents
arrive with their crocodile tears to cover up what had happened?
He couldn't remember. Hands clenching upon the blackened
fabric, he couldn't remember. He just closed his eyes, cursing
the God his sister had spoken of. He was a cruel God. To give
someone the love of their life in a way that couldn't be had, to
take that person away and leave them alone, to forsaken such
people with such cruel demise. Maria was wrong. There was no
God to make anything better.
[/center]
[center]A single form exited the body of the gray house, one
that had used to be simple cinders upon the ground ladden with
memories that no longer mattered. Yet mumbles had arose when
builders began to work on the house, fundings of an unknown sort
giving them permission to restore the grand mansion to its
original luster. No one had known whom had built it, no one
ever saw a figure leave or enter, if they did it was but a
silhouette. Rumors spread, women whispering tales of a tall,
strange form that slid outwards from the shadows only to
disappear before a good look could be given. Parents warned
their children of the ghosts that had rebuilt the house and that
it was haunted. Simple stories. Simple mistakes that only fed
the true benefactor's rage against them all. This "figure" slid
outwards from the depths of such a dark, dim place, hair held
into a solitary ponytail of violets and pinks, a blackened tie
holding it firmly in place with the hands burying deep inside
the pockets of his blackened slacks, steps a consistent clink
upon the cobblestones as he hurried himself towards the only
spot he could have had actual peace for once in his life, aside
from the arms of that damnable woman. That oak tree loomed
above him, head tilted backwards with hands stuffed gently into
the depths of his pockets, dark, teal irises seeming to glare at
the tree at the efforts of thinking. That damnable piece that
filled him with desire. With want. Need. That fucking piece
missing holding both the important corner...and the focus of his
life. A God had not brought him back, but a Devil, and as a
creature made of sin, why not sin some more? There were more
than two bodies found dead, there were four, an equal exchange
for the two missing...
[/center]
[center]He loved that woman and he would tear apart the strings
of fate if he must, only to get what he wanted.
"Maria."[/center]
#Post#: 30953--------------------------------------------------
Re: Que and Pride.
By: Rilo Never Bask In Glory Date: November 21, 2011, 12:01 am
---------------------------------------------------------
[center]After being shouted at and told do this and that, she
had finally gotten everything done. Sweat sheered skin caused
her clothes to stick to her and she sighed in disgust of
herself. It was annoying. After getting her pay and doing a few
more things to help the guys, she offered a brief smile and
waved as she picked up her bag and started back through town.
Though she had a feeling, one that hadn't been around for quite
some time, that she needed to find out for herself if the house
was still there. Shifting through town, she stopped at a few
places to get some tools and building materials, her eyes
searching for that house. Many had told her it had been burned
down in attempts to murder the family, she didn't want to
believe that. Wait- why was she even concerned about it? It had
been years since she had last seen him. If he was dead he was
dead! What did it matter to her now!? 'Because, he was the only
one who smiled at you and didn't think you were just some
strange thing.' Her mind answered her and she let out a
frustrated sigh. "You know you're fucked in the head when you
start to answer yourself." She muttered, shaking her head as she
carried the bag and other supplies upon her shoulders. Though
what had happened? After being dragged away kicking and
screaming for him, she had cried for days wanting to see her
only friend. Now though, she wasn't as keen on showing any
emotion at all.
Seeing that the house was still standing, but seemed newer, she
couldn't help but feel a bit curious on that. Pride just shook
her head and decided to leave it alone, someone else probably
lived there now. Plus, it didn't matter what she thought
anyways. She was just proud of herself for living, proud of
herself for kicking those bastards in the teeth. Though when she
saw someone standing in front of the oak tree, eyes widened
after careful observation. Was he a ghost? Was he alive!? What
was going on here?! Everything crashed to the ground and her
expression remained blank as she stood there. Her shirt opened
to reveal large and small scars all across her body though her
shirt still clung to the parts she wanted to remain private
thanks to the suspenders holding it in place. "Martinique?" She
said, that blank and dead tone ever so advertised as she didn't
really think it was him at all. The shortened white hair was
removed from emerald eyes as she raked her fingers through it
and stared at him. It had to be him, he was the only one she
knew with that colored hair. The fact that he had it long didn't
surprise her much either. That blank face didn't change as she
picked everything up and just moved it closer to the tree. "I
honestly don't know what to say at this point.. I'm surprised
you know where this tree is still... It was years ago that you
use to come looking for me in it when ever they'd hurt me." She
muttered, disbelief still apparent in her tone of voice.
"I'm probably hallucinating or something.." Pride said with a
deep sigh, shaking her head as she grabbed the bag up and hung
it on the lowest branch of the tree, scuffling through it. Once
she found the black tank top she was looking for, she turned her
back to him and slipped off the white long sleeve shirt, letting
it fall to the ground. Upon this, it reveled the large gash that
still looked fresh upon her back. Going across her shoulder
blades and down her spine. She didn't even feel it anymore, she
didn't often feel anything anymore. Pulling on the shirt, she
pulled up the suspenders once more and then pulled up her
shoulder length hair. Was it so wrong that she couldn't believe
he was standing there? Not really, she hadn't seen him since she
was a child, why would he still remember her of all people? It
wasn't like it was a normal thing to her, often being forgotten
was her trait. Grabbing up the dirty shirt, she put it in a
separate pocket of the bag before she leaned against the tree,
removing a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and lighting one.
"Tch.. I went crazy a long time ago.. So I guess it's just
normal to see hallucinations around.. Especially ones of you."
She muttered, the plume of grey matter fluttering from Egyptian
lips as she had refused to give up her accent at all. [/center]
#Post#: 30972--------------------------------------------------
Re: Que and Pride.
By: Eri Date: November 21, 2011, 12:27 am
---------------------------------------------------------
[center]What was that? Footsteps? He could sense them, a
little bit of an interesting ability due to his
little...inheritance. Life was something within his hands,
always tangible and always recognizable, a laughable sort of
irony to his cynical disposition. There it was, some voice of a
woman calling his name, that small little sliver jammed deep
into the confines of a heart that was no longer in order,
jerking at the realization that it was not the voice he had
wished to hear. What did she sound like now, though? Was her
voice still light? Did she still look the same? Stupid girl.
He bet she sounded just as pathetic and stupid as she had
before. It was with those few, quick thoughts that Martinique's
head slowly tilted downwards before he turned upon the heel of
his dress shoe, showing nothing short of sheer lack of care as
she changed at his side, her voice and appearance slightly
familiar despite the fact he rarely tried to remember anything
within his newer years. She knew his name, so she must have
been familiar to him at one point, right? Then again, many knew
his names, kind or not. More often the less favorable of the
latter. Eyes narrowed, teal glints beneath the darkened lids,
the inhuman luminescence off-putting as he eyed the coils of
smoke pouring from the woman's lips before his own parted with
cold calculation, his complete boredom with her already
apparent. "I hate to inform you, but I do not know who you are.
I don't often take my time to remember the names of sluts come
to pass." He said such things carelessly and with complete and
total boredom, his hands ever-so-casually held within his
pockets as the sunlight dared to strike him from between the
rotting branches of the familiar oak tree, shoving it's glare
upon his skin far too white for human purposes.
[/center]
[center]"You strike me as familiar." A shrug of his shoulders,
eyes already turning away as he too began to slip back from the
tree, already tempted to back on track for his wishes and
desires, already trying hard to implant the face within his
memories on his top priority list. He didn't care if he knew
this woman or not, she must have been in his past from how
fondly she spoke of him, yet Martinique could no longer remember
anyone aside from the face of his bedside mate, the one he was
determined to find. A long time ago Martinique had given his
heart away...and he gave it to the only one he knew as his
soulmate. Regardless of the taboo, regardless of the shock and
disgust, he loved the one who he loved even though it had now
transformed into some sort of sadistic spite. His plans for her
were simple, and he'd quickly push them into plan the minute he
found that fucking bitch. She'd pay for everything she had ever
taken from him...His chest ached at such a prospect.[/center]
#Post#: 31002--------------------------------------------------
Re: Que and Pride.
By: Rilo Never Bask In Glory Date: November 21, 2011, 12:43 am
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[center]It didn't phase her physical expression that he didn't
remember her. Nor did it phase her that he called her a slut.
She just shrugged it off and took another drag of the toxic
cylinder. "You're just a hallucination, so it doesn't matter
anyways. Kinda sucks that even my own mind fucks shit up." She
said with a slight sigh before she snuffed out the cigarette and
looked at him, her shoulder pressed against the tree as she
looked at him with that hardened stare. "My name is Pride...
This is the tree you use to come to, to hide with me.. When we
were kids, people weren't nice to me at all. They'd abuse me and
hurt me because of my tan skin and odd colored eyes and hair.
They use to hurt me all the time so I'd hide in here.. You'd
come looking for me and find me here every time.. Just like when
I couldn't find you, you were here too.." She elaborated a
little bit before she straightened up and walked closer to him.
That sense that he was really there struck her hard but it
didn't bother her physical appearance. "Oh... So you are really
here..." She muttered before she looked to the side. "Oh, and by
the way.. I'm not a slut thank you very much. Say that again and
I promise to smack the shit out of you." She spat, turning to
get closer to the tree. Crouching down, she examined and
measured things mentally as she looked over every thing.
"Martinique... I'm sorry I couldn't fight back to stay with you
that day.. I fought back as hard as I could, but it didn't work
at all. Not against him... I heard some things, a lot of things,
that I didn't believe at all. Even so... Wish I could've stayed,
to help you keep your smile. Though it seems to have gone away
completely now." Pride stated, glancing at him over her shoulder
as she stared at bright teal eyes. Emerald orbs soon traced his
figure before she stood up and grabbed a few tools, laying them
out. There was nothing else she could say to him, she didn't
know what to say. It was apparent that he had grown as cold as
the bones in the ground. It didn't help that she could smell
that he was much more different than he use to be. Though as she
always did, she ignored those kinds of things and just went
about on her own business. No emotion to be displayed, no heart
ache to show. Those that could hear her heart could hear it
fluttering and thudding harshly in her rib cage. She was happy
to see him alive, but not happy that he wasn't well. Happy that
he had come back to this place, but not happy that he didn't
remember. "So... Why'd you come back to this tree if you didn't
or don't remember?" She asked casually, organizing things like
she was a perfectionist from hell. [/center]
#Post#: 32197--------------------------------------------------
Re: Que and Pride.
By: Eri Date: November 21, 2011, 7:41 pm
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[center]Pride. Seemed familiar, but did he care? No. Not in
the slightest. He had more important matters. One, being his
rightful inheritance that the wretched whore took from his
holds, cheating him even after death, continually taking
everything from his life, and death. Then, she was next on the
list. She'd pay for his sufferings, every last damn one of
them. He stood straight, showing no sign of emotion, his cold
apathy only highlighted by the slight harshness he housed it
with, watching as she walked closer until the greens of her
irises were much more noticeable, shrugging without a care for
her. "You mistake me for a being who cares, Pride. That tree is
like you and I. Empty but standing just because something on
this damnable reality holds us to it." In a sense, it was true.
He cared naught for her troubles or past, but he could see the
relation between their two entities. It was in those short
moments of locked gaze that he saw the reflection of himself
within her irises, deadened and hardened to reality like a dog
beaten so badly that it no longer cared. Which, in
essentiality, was what he was. The thought of her "smacking the
shit out of him" entertained him, though he showed nothing in
answer to such a statement, he only shifted his shoulders
upwards then downwards in a shrug. She was free to say as she
wished, he didn't care, a woman's words meant nothing to him.
She wasn't saying anything helpful, so therefore she was of no
help.
[/center]
[center]"Hold your crocodile tears. I don't care for the past, I
don't care for your past. I don't care to engage in light
conversation or this tense convention between us. Unless you
spout something helfpul, I have no care for you." Cold, harsh,
yet he convinced himself that such was as true as it could be.
His figure turning upon its heel as he began to grind the heels
of his feet into the grassy hill, caring naught for the damage
he lay upon the ground. "I came here because it helps me
remember, but it's becoming more worthless by the moment. The
dead have no need for sentimental values. What I have the need
for is completing my goal." With that, his hair made a swift
slap of the wind and he began to leave her, his back to her back
with his ghastly pale skin fully shown upon from the sky above,
every other color upon him looking almost painfully neon in
comparison, his inhuman hues appearing.[/center]
#Post#: 32249--------------------------------------------------
Re: Que and Pride.
By: Rilo Never Bask In Glory Date: November 21, 2011, 8:06 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
[center]So he had changed, greatly so. The way he was talking to
her, now that pissed her off. When he turned to walk away, she
struck a glare to him but instead of keeping it. It faltered for
a moment, seeing the changes that truly occurred. Though that
didn't stop her from getting mad at him either. Standing up, she
didn't waste any minutes of her time as she stormed right up
behind him and grabbed his shoulder, giving it a sharp pull to
turn him to face her. "So it's true, all of it is. You did
die... Well you know what, I'm sorry that I wasn't there. I'm
sorry that you've become a complete and total ass... But you
know what? The goddamn days I spent crying out for you, crying
out to see you, yea those days are gone. Doesn't mean I wont
miss you, because you're not you. You're not even." She paused,
throwing her hands up and scoffing with a growl. "You're just as
bad as the people who did that shit to us! You're just like them
now! I ought'a knock the straight dog piss out of you!" She said
in straight rage. There was nothing that pissed her off more
than the fact that he was treating her just like he did. Just
like her dad did. There was no alarm for her to even register
that she was damn close to knocking him in the face with no
remorse.
"Your goals are meaningless if you don't achieve them with
pride. You're a damnable idiot, Martinique! Treating someone who
cared a helluva lot about you and still does, like shit! You
deserve to be punched in the face and by Goddess Isis I'm going
to knock you silly if you continue to treat me like that!" Pride
was beyond pissed, how could he? How could he change so much?
And for the worst no doubt! "You came back to the tree to
remember but you don't wanna know the past. You say you don't
care for it yet you stand there and come back to this tree to
remember. Why do it if you don't care? You do care, Martinique!
You're just... You're pathetic!" Her fists were clenched,
emerald eyes burning with an absolute panic inducing rage. The
God of the Dead was her grandfather. If there was one thing she
knew, it was death. Her father was his first born son, she his
only child, thus; she wasn't one to stand idly and be patronized
about or by death. The Jackal like appearances of her teeth and
ears began to show and she couldn't help but be angry! It was
like she was being betrayed all over again, being walked upon
like she was trash! She wouldn't stand for it anymore! She
hadn't since she stood up that day. [/center]
*****************************************************
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