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       #Post#: 4255--------------------------------------------------
       Attachments
       By: Rilo Never Bask In Glory Date: November 8, 2011, 2:05 am
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       [center]Who are you, impudent young one, to think you can steal
       from me?
       The bookshop was never meant to be very obvious, but it draws in
       those who need it, repels those who seek it, and punishes those
       who abuse it. Well, perhaps these qualities are not limited to
       the bookshop alone - its owner...Well, you'll see.
       Turn left...then right...then left. That's right. You're lost.
       You have to be lost to enter. Well done.
       The door is nothing special. A mere wood plank affair, with a
       the insignia of the shop painted on it in faded white, and a
       small brass handle. The display is just what you would expect -
       books in piles and artfully arranged with small ornaments that
       supposedly offset the titles - all lit up by a singe bulb that
       buzzes occasionally. Why go in? It's as rundown as the rest of
       this street on the poor side of town where the losers and the
       addicts live. It stands out no more than the rubbish bags across
       the street and the neon sign for pizza three doors down. Yet,
       your hand is on the handle, and you're stepping through. I
       thought you didn't even like reading?
       It's warm inside. Balmy even, as though the sun of a Italian
       afternoon is filtering in through the windows, yet the view
       outside is a dim as ever. Still winter. The books gleam golden
       from their shelves: far more expensive than you were expecting
       to find in here. What happened to the piles of tatty books in
       the window? Oh, still there, but the dearer books are kept
       inside. Well, that's not the best way to do business...
       Colours assault you from all sides - rich reds, obstinate
       purples, blushing pinks, wilting violets and sombre blues in
       every shade couple with cream and gold and ebony of the darkest
       hues. Velvet and taffeta and wood and gold-leaf. So many books:
       titles in strange languages and all written in the same elegant
       handwriting. What is this? A personal library or a bookstore?
       Look around. Is there anyone here? Nope.
       There. That one, wasn't it? Don't bother to look at the
       title...it's the shades of green and pearlescent cream that
       attract you, and then it's slipped into your coat pocket. It
       might be worth something - or make an interesting read. You've
       not got the money for it, so you will just take it. Foolish.
       "An interesting choice." The silken voice drifts from above.
       Atop the spiral staircase, the one which looks as though it
       should be in a French mansion, rather than a shop in this dreary
       city, stands the owner. He must be. Isn't he too young? Twenty,
       no more, surely. Slowly, he starts down those iron steps towards
       you, his gaze unwavering, even as he turns away from you.
       Droplets fall from his clothing and hair onto the floor. How is
       he so wet. I thought it wasn't raining outside. Glance outside:
       no, it's not.
       He smirks at you, benign and malign or asinine. Who can tell. As
       he reaches the bottom stair he reaches out and slides a book
       back into an empty slot on the shelf. Passions of the Water
       Goddess. How odd. He's coming closer. Are you backing away or
       holding your ground? "So, you thought you might steal from me,
       did you?" Oh, he's not so nice now, and handsome features can
       still look frightening. He's got you by the arm, and he's
       pulling you over to the counter. Is he going to call the police
       or-- "Usually, this place is a refuge for those who need help
       they cannot garner from a normal book. So, perhaps instead of
       municipal correction, magical correction is in order. Let the
       punishment fit the crime." Oh, his grin is a little wolfish...
       The book is plucked from your pocket, and he flips it open,
       gazing intently at it. Cream lace overlays a dark, serpentine
       green leather cover. Pearls and Poison. He laughs softly.
       Apparently there is some irony you aren't understanding.
       Unbeknownst to you, the book is a tale of testing character, of
       courage, and redemption and murder and all that good stuff. He's
       got you by the arm again, and his face is painted with an
       expression of glee. How he likes this, to punish the sinners
       with a little fright and danger, yet give them a chance. He's
       the gatekeeper of fate in some ways. What's this? He's stuffing
       the book in your pocket, and pulling you towards the front door
       again. Is he letting you go?
       "Enjoy the trip. Say hello to Petra for me."
       The door doesn't open onto the street. Why are there trees? And
       statues? And...what the hell is that?[/center]
       #Post#: 4754--------------------------------------------------
       Re: Attachments
       By: Eri Date: November 8, 2011, 6:29 pm
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       An incessant wandering, a burning need, a fiery desire to
       fulfill unknown wishes.  Everyday since she awoke to fluttering
       cinders tainting her view, like angered faeries flying through
       the air, this need had been awakened and seemed to never be
       satiated.  A perpetual thought process, a static existence,
       almost as if she wasn't truly real.  But she was, wasn't she?
       From the tips of plum-painted nails along the slender length of
       ashen arms, to the tips of equally painted toes,  purple sleeves
       made of a delicate material even she did not know of, just the
       outfit she had awoken to, bound to, forever fated to wear.
       She had worn the same clothes for what seemed like decades, yet
       how long had it truly been?  It felt as if time were testing her
       patience and stability, tantalizing her thoughts with the
       posibility of actually knowing something before yanking the
       lifeline straight from her hands with a quick, teasing tug.  How
       much of a fool could she be to continuously reach again and
       again with aching limbs for that thread?
       A dreary day with equally dreary moods, apathetic faces passing
       to become just that in her memory, bland faces with bland
       expressions.  The air felt moist, every breath was invading with
       a taste of foreboding rain,  the slick stones of cobble beneath
       her echoing a definite click upon every footstep, every contact
       of purple heel upon grainy rock audible and sounding outwards.
       She was an odd sight to see within this dreary place with it's
       equally dreary people, yet their dreary attitudes reflected
       their lack of interest in their already lost lives as every face
       refused to so much as give her a second glance.   A tall woman
       of an imperial height merely heightened by the unnecessary
       length of her elegant heels, boots dragging in a seductive
       manner along her leg to reach the tantalizing flesh of her
       mid-thigh, such lengthy limbs revealed to the world by the slits
       of her plum-shaded dress, a single length with a bodice-like top
       binding and constricting plump flesh upon her chest to a
       provacative sort of view.  Between the great valley of such
       promiscious flesh lay a single pendant, a darkened amethyst
       jewel bound with a gold plate tied into the lace choker
       pronouncing her slim neck, her entire attire matching the shades
       of her locks, pinkened purple dragging towards the backs of her
       knees, sea-green irises peering outwards with a dull sort of
       gleam.  All of this was attractive, yes, but unearthly so.
       Unearthly was her gait, unearthly was her tone, unearthly was
       the shade of her ashen gray skin, unearthly was she.   Here's
       where her wandering tendancies came into play, her consistent
       questioning without even knowing which question to present.
       Though one always seemed to play it's part in her troubled,
       surreal existence.
       What was she?
       Wandering as she did, wandering as she must, the slim and
       strange woman sauntered slowly, passing the men buried to their
       necks in their coats, passing the women who's youth seemed to be
       sapped out from them, passing the children who already looked as
       if their adult years had come and pass.  Dreary places, dreary
       existences, yet still she found herself in the midst of it all.
       Plaguing questions though just one question, no answers when
       there should be many, cold skin becoming colder with the promise
       of storm, why was she here, where was she to go?  Wandering.
       Wandering. Round and round. From city to village, from town to
       town.
       The first promised precipitation struck her cheek, an icy sting
       that struck her into reality.  The village seemed to close in on
       itself even more so, disappearing within it's cracks and
       crevices to leave her alone against the streets with the
       onslaught of a shower laughing directly in her face with Lady
       Earth's spite.  Yet the woman didn't seem  phased, she didn't
       seem concerned, she merely turned her forlorn gaze to the
       heaven's as the water pelted her skin, the thought of perhaps
       finding shelter seeming to finally peek it's creative head
       around the corner.  Shelter? Where? Where would she go?  Her
       head turned left and right slowly, legs carrying her where she
       did not know, a peculiar habit of hers that she housed.  She
       wandered further, further, and further.  Where to go, where to
       be, was this fate laughing?  It seemed it was as her wandering
       bore no useful fruit, so her form retreated yet down a
       significantly cleaner alleyway who's chill made even her skin
       crawl. Yet shelter was shelter, as it seemed.  Walking and
       walking with a more hurried pace as if to avoid becoming more
       soaked than she already was, the woman headed down the alley for
       some sort of shelter, some type of overhang, anything, and yet
       she found within her sights a single, lone door.  What was this?
       A halfway house maybe? With it's shabby appearance it certainly
       could have been.
       A single knock with fate cackling in her ear every step of the
       way, solitary hands knocking soundlessly upon a solitary door,
       body drenched yet no shiver apparent as her melancholy eyes
       watched at the door.  She didn't know what to expect, yet there
       seemed to be no harm in trying, what else was she to do?  What
       else could she do?  Her answers could be anywhere.
       What was she?
       #Post#: 5826--------------------------------------------------
       Re: Attachments
       By: Rilo Never Bask In Glory Date: November 9, 2011, 12:01 am
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       [center]"Rain rain go away, come again some other day.. Things
       are drab and days are dreary, I wish thee gone until the morn.
       Hah! I love the rain, it makes things.. Interestingly
       mysterious." A voice of charm and silk reverberated off the
       walls of the innards to this place. That wolfish grin only
       slipping slightly as he heard the rapping of knuckles upon the
       door. "Hmm? A call upon the new parchment untold.. How sweet,
       apathetic, questioning.." He noted, feet carrying him down the
       spiral staircase. Raven locks dripped with crystalline droplets
       falling to clothing as it ruffled and moved with his steps. "Tap
       tap tap, upon the door of curiosity, a place to stay for the
       night you say? Well of course m'dear, if you think naught upon
       doing wrong for the moment." He said, that silken voice ever so
       tainted slightly with the sound of bittersweet love.
       Echo echo echo, a name so strange and unrealistic, he turned the
       key for many other's to open their doors to the escape they've
       longed for. A saint? Him? No, certainly not! He was nothing more
       than a reader, a writer, someone who preferred to keep things..
       Interesting. Everything was for his own gain in some way.
       Calloused phalanges turned the knob to the door the woman was
       behind, pulling it open without much effort or excitement.
       Seeing the drenched apathetic face, he quirked a brow and
       chuckled. "Ahh... Maria.. Come in come in, it's your story to be
       told m'dear. Your book is in the making." How? How did he know
       her name? He had just met her not even seconds ago! Now this was
       an easy answer to give, he was the story maker. The writer of
       escapes and unimaginable comforts and trials. He was aware of
       many persons' names and faces, only because he was writing their
       story. Something to escape with. Shrugging off the red jacket he
       wore, it some how became dry with in no more than a
       millisecond's time, he draped it over her shoulders and gave her
       wrist a light snatch and pull.
       Getting her inside, he didn't waste a single second before he
       was off up the stairs once more. No warning was given to be well
       behaved, nor did he really think she would turn events and have
       him change her story to one of trials rather than escape.
       Goggles hung to the right side of his head as steely orbs danced
       across the book's titles. A chuckle rang through the innards of
       the place before he returned down the stairs. A ever so wolfish
       grin upon his lips as he looked at her, a red bound book in
       digits. "Ah my dear, Maria, take a load off. Sit and rest,
       you've had a long while before you've actually done so.
       Questions arising and manifesting in the hollows of your mind
       constantly eating away at you. It's going to be a long night I
       suppose, unless you're eager for sleep, if that's the case; I'll
       allow you refuge on my couch tonight. Your escape is not
       finished yet. Hmm.. Never before has anyone showed up before
       their escape or trial was finished. First time for everything I
       suppose!" He said, chuckling once more as he peered at her. It
       wasn't long before he was rushing off once more, but instead of
       up the stairs he went around them.
       After a few sounds of clanging and things flying, he returned
       with a hot cup of tea and a warm blanket. Without words, he
       again, gently snatched her wrist with his free hand and lead her
       to the couch. The fire crackling as it caused a glow to
       reverberate in the book filled room. Jeans rattling with chains
       as he gingerly sat her down upon the plush sofa and set the hot
       mug upon the table beside her. "Drink drink, you'll catch cold."
       He said with a mutter for the most part before he shifted the
       blanket in his arm and unfolded it, draping it across her.
       Taking refuge into the other side of the couch, he sank in with
       a plop and chuckled once more. "Hmmmrrrr.. So so, my dear
       Maria.. Haha, that could be a song.. Ah, so odd I am." He
       stated, grinning as he stretched his arms across the back of the
       couch. "La-Dee-Da.. My Dear Maria, why do you question so many
       things. So emotionless and vacant in expression, lead the way to
       your stairway of light and life." He sang in a chipper yet
       bittersweet voice. "Mur mur mur. Talons and beaks only fight for
       survival yet claws will maim for pleasure." He said, looking at
       her with a grin, untold stories dancing with the fire in his
       eyes. [/center]
       #Post#: 6656--------------------------------------------------
       Re: Attachments
       By: Eri Date: November 9, 2011, 4:31 pm
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       [center]Sea-green irises of a dimmed, milky hue looked downwards
       upon the golden handle tarnished by the effects of its weathered
       abuse, the drab thing seeming to mock her thoughts at its
       question of working order or not until the moment it turned with
       it's steady, mischievous creak.  Well, appears this day was full
       of surprises.  The door opened to the eccentric man who seemed
       to laugh upon her misfortune, nothing new, nothing old.   Yet,
       she felt a dull feeling, an emotion she was uncertain of that
       bubble warningly in the pits of where she believed her stomach
       should be as the man she had never seen in her life, she
       thought, addressed her by her name.    Slender phalanges traced
       upon the moistened skin of her cheek as they shoveled a few
       plastered strands of the now darkened violet hair further back
       upon her skull, her lips parting as if to start the request for
       shelter before feeling the warmth of his coat’s fabric against
       her skin. The reddened material and it’s strange dryness, the
       scent it carried with it, alluring yet warning though she
       couldn’t identify either feeling.  At least, she imagined that's
       what she felt.
       It smelled strange.  Smelled of aged books and wizened words,
       the taste of paper and its accompanying ink seeming to strangle
       her taste buds as the apathetic expression remained as such,
       unable to understand, unable to comprehend. Then, she was pulled
       inside, a world left behind in its dreary melancholy while the
       singular click of the drab door closed behind her with a clunk.
       What was inside was a complete turnaround from what was outside.
       What was this place?  Was it a portal like those scientific
       white-coats blabbered on about in their Quantum Physics?  An
       alternate reality?  It seemed very much like so as it was
       stacked from floor to ceiling with numerous tomes and tales,
       warmth cascading from around the area itself, a warm and
       inviting feeling though Maria didn't feel as such.  It was not
       like she could feel that warmth anyways, she'd tried before.
       Silly pipe-dreams.
       She wasn't even aware of the strange man's presence until it
       presented itself again, tome in hand and clutched like a child
       as he appeared to try and make her comfortable.  She didn't see
       it as such, a man with that kind of smile could never just do
       things out of pure kindness, she could see it in his smile.  At
       least, she thought.  Once more, the pale flesh of her lips
       parted as if to say something, yet the man was off once again in
       that hectic pace of his, her expression remaining the same
       though with a tilted angle of her head as she huffed softly.  A
       tender whoosh of a cold breeze from cold lips.  He was
       definitely someone who went at his pace and only his pace.
       She was drug off again, following like the obedient guest she
       was attempting to be.  That's what they called courtesy, right?
       The woman was led to the couch, red jacket still held across her
       body in a rather comical sense considering how small its stature
       seemed to be upon her tall form.  More books, more tomes, more
       stories that she didn't house an interest in yet, the crackle
       and flick of embers like an all too familiar dream.  She sat
       slowly, form straightened as it attempted to “relax”, hands
       clasped against her exposed knees whose being was covered with
       the skin-tight length of the violet attire.  Was she warm or was
       she cold, a question she too could never even identify as it
       was.  Just another seemingly empty query she’d never know an
       answer to. Oh well, shove it back, deep back into the mind where
       she wouldn’t require it’s appearance again until later times.
       He offered her drink, a kind gesture from the odd individual,
       yet she barely eyed the hot beverage and simply stared straight
       ahead, apathetic and strangely stoic as she finally managed to
       squeeze out the only phrase she could within this pace she was
       trying to follow.  “A cold would be nice.  Do not worry upon my
       health, I will be fine.”  It was the truth as the hollow voice
       poured like an empty symphony from her lips, stating a fact she
       had discovered already within her life, just one she could not
       yet understand.
       She had decided that he was a kind enough fellow, he seemed to
       at least attempt at making her comfortable with the invitation
       of drink and the newfound commodity of the blanket around her
       form that neither shiver nor shook, surprising for one whom had
       been standing in the fretful rain.  The weight of the couch
       shifted and she found his presence still faintly odd as he
       seated himself beside her with his incessantly intriguing
       mumblings, her gaze keeping forward before slowly slipping to
       the side, eyeing him without any sort of emotion through the
       glazed, dim irises.  “You talk as if you know me. Do you?” A
       simple question, one she should easily know the answer to. Any
       person knew if they had met someone or not, no matter how old
       they grew the faint reminiscent touches of memory would always
       remain there, yet she asked the question honestly, or as
       honestly as her voice would allow her for Maria didn’t know if
       she had met this stranger before.
       She never knew.
       She had forgotten.[/center]
       #Post#: 6937--------------------------------------------------
       Re: Attachments
       By: Rilo Never Bask In Glory Date: November 9, 2011, 5:55 pm
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       [center]There was no explaining him, nor events that would take
       place soon. Mishaps and decisions were always together as he
       chuckled and was seemingly full of glee. A wolfish grin like no
       other always possessing lips as he sat straight up. Snatching up
       a quill and bottle of ink, he popped the cork and set it aside.
       Grabbing up the red bound book, he stole a glance at Maria and
       again there was a chuckle. "Ah ah, my Dearest Maria.. You'll
       catch cold in which it will not be good. If you get sick, then
       how are you suppose to be well enough to get the answers you
       seek? You're cold, not warm, though you'll be warm soon. As for
       me, I am a stranger, someone you have never met. Though I know
       who you are because..." A pause, the quill dipped in ink before
       he looked down to the half filled page. "I am writing your
       story. Well, in a sense, I don't control what you do or what
       happens.. I merely observe and write you the perfect escape
       built for your needs." He stated, the scribbling never ceasing
       as he had already filled another page or two.
       "Oh dear Maria, why do you leave your questions unanswered?
       They're right there yet you decline yourself the answers you
       seek." Echo chuckled a bit, stealing yet another glance at the
       woman who sat upon his couch. "I am Echo." He said with a calm
       and sweet tone, his digits releasing the feather for a moment
       only to drop it into the ink bottle. Letting the pages dry
       before he closed the book, he leaned back upon the sofa once
       more. Things were certainly going to be interesting, never had
       he had a specimen like Maria in his midst. It was going to be
       entertaining in the least, though many wouldn't think so because
       of her apathetic composure. Lips turned a smile as he twisted
       his head and gazed at her full on rather than glancing.
       "Anything you wish to do, read, or eat? Ask and it will be
       given.." He stated kindly. Yes, this man was kind, for his gain.
       Every person he wrote a story for, they provided him with
       interest or some sort of personal gain. There was nothing he did
       that didn't benefit himself. Many thought that this was
       moralistically wrong, he just thought it was a good way for his
       self and the person to get some gain. Rather than only one
       person gaining and the other losing. It was a wonderful aspect.
       [/center]
       #Post#: 7027--------------------------------------------------
       Re: Attachments
       By: Eri Date: November 9, 2011, 6:14 pm
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       [center]Instead of follow his advice upon the hearty drink,
       Maria, instead, traced her fingers through the lengths of her
       dampened locks, the task proving tedious with how much hair she
       truly had.  Over one shoulder the damp length went, her gaze
       once more focusing straight ahead as if lost within it's own
       inner world, ashen skin seeming darker and sickly against the
       softened hues of burning embers.  "I appreciate your
       hospitality, but I will not catch cold."  She replied it simply,
       a stated fact, whole-heartedly believed and felt due to the fact
       it was indeed the truth.  Maria found it hard to have these more
       mundane ailments like sickness, yet she also found it hard to
       obtain the glory of mundane things, like wellness.    With her
       fingers methodically working through the multi-colored hues,
       Maria shifted her gaze to the side slowly once again to eye the
       black-haired male and his steely gaze, watching as he looked
       into that strange book he had been carrying about.  With his odd
       words, the woman's brow faintly quirked upwards as he spoke of
       her story, speaking of knowing her though she seemed to slowly
       understand that he didn't, her fingers stopping their work to
       instead lay interlaced in the locks.  "A perfect escape..."
       Was it possible for her to have such a thing?  If she could have
       wistfully thought, perhaps there was such a thing for her, but
       what was her perfect escape?  One needed to know their likes,
       their interests, their desires and such to know what their ideal
       perfection of an escape was.  Maria didn't have such luxury.
       The woman may have actually seemed slightly exhausted from the
       thought of such another query clouding her mind, not allowing
       her mind even a moment's reprieve.  The woman seemed to sink
       into the back of the couch for a moment, blanket sliding further
       off her shoulders while she looked back into the distance,
       thinking thoughts she didn't even know if she actually thought
       before hearing the male speak out once more, adhering to his
       words though not seeming to actually focus upon him.  "I would
       introduce myself in a more proper manner, but you seem to know
       everything about me as it is."  If she were capable of feeling,
       she may have spilled spite into her words, spite and the ever
       jade jealousy, yet Maria didn't pour those into her words. How
       could she know if she even did?  He asked her of her whims, and
       the woman had so many desires in that moment that she believed
       this man could fulfill, yet were they desires?  Were they even
       what she wanted?
       With a solitary movement, she ran her fingers along the hem of
       her boots, pulling the soaked fabric away from the skin it so
       dearly hugged, her expression perhaps resembling one of trouble
       for another moment. "I want you to tell me of me.  If that is my
       perfect escape, explain it to me..."  It was probably not a
       request too uncommon, for their perfect escape to be known, but
       Maria had different intentions for such a query.  If she could
       discover what was her perfect escape, she could discover more
       about her preferences, her desires...She could discover more
       about her. Recover some of what she had lost.[/center]
       #Post#: 8895--------------------------------------------------
       Re: Attachments
       By: Rilo Never Bask In Glory Date: November 10, 2011, 5:28 pm
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       [center]Echo's curious eyes scattered his 'home' as he listened
       to the few words she said. Thinking to himself, he picked up the
       book and opened it to the first page. "Ah.. So you want me to
       tell you of yourself? The thing is, I only know you through your
       actions, what you've done and what you've expressed physically.
       I do not know you from your inside. Though... I suppose by
       presenting you with what you've done, you may recall what you
       were feeling while you did it. The thing is... Are you sure you
       really want to know?" He said as he brushed his fingers across
       the raised ink. "People are fickle beings.. Creatures alike.
       Hmm.. Dear Maria, before I tell you of your life's story.. Or
       what I've seen of it rather, might you be more specific??" He
       asked, looking to her with a quirked brow. Now Echo might have
       been the man who not only worked for the gain of others, but for
       his own gain, he was also a being in which entitled his work to
       the person's personal advantage. Thinking to himself once more,
       he leaned back upon the couch, the side of his knuckle pressed
       to his lips. Now this man was certainly no saint, it wasn't but
       moments before her arrival that he had sent someone to their
       trials, but he was no cruel person entirely. Sighing a bit, he
       closed his eyes and rested his cheek in his hand as it was
       propped up on the arm of the couch.
       "Dearest Maria.. I want you to do something, this something will
       benefit you greatly. I want you to close your eyes and think
       deeply into the hollows of your mind. I then want you to ask me
       each question that pops up one at a time. I will provide you
       with the answers to these questions. In doing so, this will
       benefit you to discover more and more into the memories you are
       seeking. You must know, I do not provide a simple route. If I
       did that, then I would be too generous and in doing so, would
       undoubtedly scar the person I am providing service to." He
       stated quietly as he looked at her through the corners of half
       open eyes. This man surely was strange in many ways. Leaning
       towards her, he pulled the blanket over her being a bit more
       before he straightened back to his previous position. The book
       he held in his lap ever so enduring to it's tortures of words as
       he ran his fingers over the first page with unoccupied hand.
       "Proceed to asking your questions, Dearest Maria. They will help
       you greatly in the end." He said calmly as he offered her a
       smile. A smile? Not that silly wolfish grin? Nope, just a smile,
       one of true genuine generosity.  [/center]
       #Post#: 17604--------------------------------------------------
       Re: Attachments
       By: Eri Date: November 13, 2011, 4:19 pm
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       [center]The woman felt a strange feeling well within the pits of
       her chest, coiling deep inside as if attempting to squeeze it's
       sticky tendrils along her lungs, impairing her common reason as
       she pressed her arm upon the arm of the couch, the bridge of her
       nose caught between her thumb and index finger with an
       exaggerated expression, eyes tightly closed with her lips
       turning downwards.  Maria didn't know yet, but what she was
       feeling was desperation.  "If I knew the answer to such
       questions, I would not be asking you, Mister Echo."  Her tone
       was tart and sharp, the tone of her own voice seeming to throw
       her off guard as she faintly parted the ashen lids, glaring into
       the darkness through the jaded-sapphires of her eyes, her body
       wreaking and unknowable havoc internally within the depths of
       her shattered and scattered mind.  She knew naught of anything
       involving herself, just like she knew naught of others, and this
       frustrated her to a point that she couldn't describe for she
       couldn't even describe her own frustration!  All she knew was
       that she was feeling, and even then she questioned such a simple
       existence upon the being of "feeling", for if she didn't know
       what she was experiencing, how could she say that was the
       experience occurring?  One could see a color and call it blue,
       when it could actually be red for perhaps they did not know the
       original name of such a hue.  Just as one uneducated upon words
       could only understand the pictures, yet the meaning could be but
       of a completely different entirety.  A life of paradoxes, a
       frustrating existence indeed.[/center]
       [center]Though frustrating, as she believed she felt, Echo was
       now providing her with something that could be of actual use.
       Now, of course he put her off with his...odd being, yet Maria
       was determined, she thought, to find out the answers to
       questions she did not know, or could not comprehend.  To do so,
       to fight for something one wanted more than anything else, one
       would stop at no lengths to obtain their desires.  Perhaps that
       was the curse of man.  Once more, she closed her eyes, the
       irritable expression still upon her face as she seemed to sink
       further against the couch with her head gently turning away from
       the man, the thoughtful touch of the blanket pulled back against
       her skin doing nothing to halt the inner explosions of confusion
       deep within.  She was simply a heap of being, a heap of raw
       emotion though utter denial, a heap of what though?  How could
       one know what they are if they knew naught of what they were in
       the past?  Was it not the human experience that made one who
       they were?  So how could she even start with these questions if
       she knew naught of their importance?  Or of their origin?  Or if
       they were even "her" questions?  "I don't know how to start..."
       A single line from her lips, yet a pure wash of utter
       obstruction upon what memory she did not have, frustration and
       irritation upon her words dipped with self-directed anger as her
       free hand dug into the fabric of his couch, uncaring towards the
       indentions made by such a hold.[/center]
       #Post#: 18423--------------------------------------------------
       Re: Attachments
       By: Rilo Never Bask In Glory Date: November 13, 2011, 8:26 pm
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       [center]Oh how very confused and frustrated this woman was! It
       was purely interesting to him to see such a person. Taking a
       moment to reflect on things a bit, he sighed deeply and flipped
       to the last page written in the book. Examining it, he flipped
       to the next blank page and suddenly ran his fingers over it
       slowly. Upon the action came raised letters and words in ink.
       Reading over the ink, he stole a glance at her. "Alright, then
       we'll do it this way.. Since your mind is obviously filled with
       questions and I can't quite just leap in their, I guess I'll
       just have to read the pages that arise with your thoughts. I
       will say this, even thoughts that aren't questions will arise
       upon these pages. So if for some reason you distaste the fact
       that I'm reading your personal thoughts, remember that this is a
       more.... Simple way of doing things. In the end though, it's
       more complicated than my just telling you your entire story. If
       I did that, then it would just be too plain and you'd hate it in
       the end." He stated. Damn was Echo smooth at figuring things out
       quickly. Sure he was pretty spastic and went at his own pace,
       but his intelligence outranked many upon many of the elder's.
       Looking to the side, he sighed quaintly before standing up and
       going off to the kitchen.
       By now her clothing should've been dry, considering how much of
       a draw back there was to humidity in his home. Returning with a
       cup of coffee, he knew that this was going to take a while.
       Sitting back down, he crossed his knees and returned to the lax
       position he held before getting up. Settling the book in his
       lap, odd colored orbs trailed over the words that had risen once
       more before he analyzed the questions and answers. "Alright..
       Allow me to elaborate a few answers. First off, you do indeed
       exist. Existence is merely questioned to be a mythological
       congregation of another person's mind or even what someone would
       call 'God's mind. Though indeed, you do exist. Your questions
       are your's and the congregation of confusing thoughts and
       questions you bare are certainly complex beyond a normal
       person's intelligence. This proves that before losing your
       memories, you were an extremely intelligent being. You are in
       fact, distressed, desperate, and confused beyond belief. Those
       emotions, are existent as well. Though to be quite frank, there
       are different levels of said emotions. Those levels can only be
       determined by the person at hand, for the perception of another
       being might say different. We do exist, we do partake upon
       lively interjections, and we are in fact; quite here. In order
       for you to actually ask the questions yourself, you must first
       analyze the actual questions and separate them from each other.
       Your mind is working far too fast, you need to calm down and
       take it one step at a time." In saying all of this, he hadn't
       moved much and his tone had switched to one of a more calming
       manner than it was before. Not as hyper and spasticated as it
       previously was. [/center]
       #Post#: 20674--------------------------------------------------
       Re: Attachments
       By: Eri Date: November 14, 2011, 6:48 pm
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       [center]The flutter of pages seemed to give deep, tiny cuts
       against the aching confines of her brain, pressing into the
       flesh and embedding themselves their, leaving their vicious
       little welts of taunting glory uon her frustration and
       irritation with the matter.  Was he mocking her disposition with
       his flicking pages, snidely making sure to take his time as if
       savoring her distaste? Or was this all just some bizarre
       paranoia she had invented in her mind to create some sort of
       output of her unidentifiable frustration and anger?
       "Whatever...just...do something about it." She talked to him as
       if she were but just a casual patient suffering from ill
       migraines, asking for the medications she'd require to dispose
       of their existence.  But she wasn't a patient and he wasn't a
       doctor, she had no clue what she was and that, was what
       frustrated her. [/center]
       [center]There he was again! Disappearing! Taunting her with
       having her answers but not answering them! By the gods she would
       hit that man in this dreary evening if he didn't hurry up his
       damn process!  Maria was angered, obviously, and she yanked the
       damp blanket off her shoulders and threw it over the back of the
       couch, proceeding to take her stance of frustration.  One elbow
       shoved against the couch's arm, her cheek pressed firmly into
       the palm's hold while glaring into the fire with her icy orbs,
       her left leg crossed over the right stiffly along with the stiff
       composure following up the rest of her body. "Hurry up already."
       She didn't mean to be tart.  Maria was never truly such a cruel
       person, she was simply...tired and frustrated, and here sat a
       man who could answer her questions and he still dilly-dallied
       around!  Finally, FINALLY, he seemed to sit down and begin
       helping her find her answers upon questions of which she didn't
       know, and he finally held her attention, though peeved as it may
       have been.  In all honesty, she wasn't listening too thoroughly
       as he rambled upon her questions that she frantically did ask
       herself, frequently pondering them, but it was one phrase that
       frightened her into the reality of his room, "...before losing
       your memories..." Losing her memories? What did he mean?  What
       memories?! "What do you mean by that? Memories? What are you
       talking about?" Of course, being an amnesiac she didn't even
       know that was what she was, so this bit of information was
       startling and disturbing, bothering her even more than any of
       his previous comments.[/center]
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