crimsonrequiem

I'm making a new second primary in Mage.

Wiki is: http://wiki.white-wolf.com/camwiki/index.php?title=Brynhildr

She is an Obrimos Adamantine Arrow. She's a Hero/Soldier concept.

She's in her mid twenties, and is a recently retired pro MMA fighter.

She quietly stares at the car in front of her, covered by a storage tarp.

One hand absently strokes the head of a the large rottie at her side, the other silently lights a cigarette.

"There is no such thing as friendship among our kind, Rox. Not even mine."

His voice echoes in her mind, purring through her memories, through laughter and tears. Through races won and lost and it always comes back, very quietly to the lessons he taught her.

The hiatus she took was needed. She needed to get her head together. She needed to figure things out. She was falling. Falling and failing and breaking apart. But she fell. She dropped to the bottom and lay there, broken and scared and suffering.

There is no such thing as Friendship.

A flick of her wrist uncovers the jet black, mod'd out Shelby. Designed especially for her. Everything she wants, loves, and needs in a car. Made with heart and soul and friendship now gone. Probly dead.

She opens up the driver's side and lets the Rottie hop in. She clicks a button on her cell phone and makes a call. "I'd like to leave a message with Alder Savage, important but not urgent. Thank you.....let her know Roxanne O'Conner called, and would like a moment of her time."

She clicks the phone shut and the engine roars to life, purring like a well fed lion.

Time to go Home.

Dia del Muerte.

The night is drenched in heat. The acrid scent of desert, almost overpowered by the putrid stench of the city. The noxious blend of garbage, car fumes, and the irritating stink of humanity.

I used to be human.

You're not anymore.  A velvet whisper, caressing the recesses of her mind, slipping through her memories, slicing her sanity like a razorblade splits silk.

You made me inhuman. You made me something else.

Not me, my darling, you adapted. All of our servants adapt.

You did this.

No, Belle, You did.

The whiskey scorches her throat, burning down her esophogus and torching her belly. Her hand swipes across her mouth and the crash of glass shattering against a stone wall echoes through the silent room.

Forest thick around her, pineneedles and unidentifiable flowers perfume the night air. Her hounds bay in the darkness, hoofbeats resound through the trees, and the occasional shout of joy boils from the throats of the Masters on the hunt. She stands at the gates, regarding the gate tree with a silent shake of her head, she pats his trunklike legs, whispering quietly to him, even though he doesn't understand her anymore.

Sorrow worms it's way into her heart, anger burns hotly in her chest, and a longing, a quiet simple longing for what she had escaped roils in her mind.

Bottle after bottle slides down her throat, into that cast iron stomach.

Amounts that would kill anyone without her metabolism.

It takes a case of whiskey, delivered anonymously to her door every Samhain Eve to kill the memories.

Dia del Muerte.

The desert warmth seeps through her bones as she jots a note on a piece of paper and tacks it to the door, letting Jess know where she'll be. An earlier note shot over the dlc list warned the DLC's. The away message on her email would warn kincaid. Another email sent to the Lily list took care of that.

It was time to hide away a bit. She'd already been gone two weeks. Now she needed some time working anonymously and just being away. 

 

Time slows and still she waits.

It seems like an eternity in the dark, still depths of the water.

Something moves beside her. Something large. It frees her anchored feet from the weights, holding her down and pulling her to the surface.

The burlap sack is removed, and light shifts the darkness. Her wrists and hands are next.

Then the stake.

She has mobility, and in a blur of motion and precious vitae she is one her feet, fingers curling into sharp claws. She clenches her fists, willing them away.

When she looks up he is sitting in a chair close-by. A bag with her dry clothing, two towels, and a thermos of blood.

Smoke wafts from his cigarette and the smellt tantalizes her senses.

She strips out of her water logged clothes. Her movements are stiff with cold and untended wounds, and lacking her usual shyness. She rapidly dries off and redresses. Another pair of threadbare jeans. Warm, dry socks, and a beat up Metallica tshirt.

She lights a cigarette and inhales deeply, then looks at him. Forest green eyes meeting slate grey.

"So...what did you learn?"

Her voice is hoarse from disuse, but she can't help but smile. She gulps just enough of the blood in the thermos to keep the hunger at bay. She was going home tonight. She would feed then.

"That trust isn't something to give lightly. And that there is no such thing as trust among predators. You could have killed me. You could have left me there forever. And I let you."

A slight smile curves his lips. He'd be pretty if he wasn't such a civilized monster.

"Yes you did. And yes I could have. You asked me to teach you fear. And that's exactly what I did."

He turns his back on her and it's then she realizes he no longer feels the superior predator. And he continues, "If you want a second lesson, you know how to find me."

She can't stop the slow curl of her lips, and gives in to the bright grin, she steps next to him and offers her hand. "Thank you Alder Cassio. I'll be back, that you can count on."

If you have my phone number that ends in 3077 AND you do not have a verizon number PLEASE EMAIL ME AT beth.sauter@gmail.com.

This phone is no longer to be used if you DO NOT HAVE a verizon number.

DO NOT call me on it. If you would like my cell number for my other phone. Shoot me an email.

The Management.

Cause I'm curious. All comments are screened.

"If you woke up and I was in bed with you, what would be your first thought?"
(Now post this in your LJ and find out what mine would be)

Please go and add

http://dragoonskeeper.livejournal.com/

She can be found quietly unpacking an actual suitcase in her room. Clothes going quietly into a dresser. Pups settled on the floor of her room, sprawled in a pile, watching her with the kind of adoration one only gets from dogs.

She opens the box the courier delivers and pulls out a swath of silk. The scent is clean and vaguely tangs of salt air, it slides through her fingers sweetly. Heaven in a touch.

She sits down on her bed, work roughened hands pulling a piece of linen out of the bottom of the box and reading quietly.

-----HOLDING PLACE------

http://changeling.cam-wiki.org/index.php/Penelope_Mal


I totally need some stuff from other peeps on there!!!!

Go forth and look....those who wanna make ties...email me at beth.sauter@gmail.com

http://changeling.cam-wiki.org/index.php/Penelope_Mal

Every story must have a villian, and a Seer. A devil and an Angel. A beginning before an end.

This story begins like so many others.

With a Lady. A Hero. A curse. Star crossed lovers. And a Tragic end story yet to come.

OOC: Who wants to help fill these roles, folks? And who wants on the ling filter?

So as I take my steps forward into pursuing my dream career it occurs to me that I need to get over my shyness.

Who wants to be on my photography filter?

Beth

Tek This is left wrapped in Tek's room at the Sedona Haven.

"Fast As You Can" Fiona Apple

Dre and Rox - June 26, 2100 (Future Possibilities - *snicker*) PART I of II

I let the beast in too soon, I don't know how to live
Without my hand on his throat; I fight him always and still
Oh darling, it's so sweet, you think you know how crazy
How crazy I am

Their's is a relationship that thrives on conflict. Her evening had just started, and already he was driving her nuts.

It occurred to her that she had no idea WHY she had ever agreed to babysit the Acolyte, oh wait...Mom asked (read: Ordered). And so here she is, in the oppressive Arizona heat, with this jackass stuck with her for company.

Suck part? Well other then all of it....she still cared.

You say you don't spook easy, you won't go, but I know
And I pray that you will
Fast as you can, baby run, free yourself of me
Fast as you can

"Tribulation brings enlightenment, Roxy." Kincaid's face is wiped of expression. The older she is, the longer she fights off the Eclipse, the more she removes herself from humanitas.

"I'm not an Acolyte, Mother."

"It's still a lesson learned in the di Milan, Roxanne Kincaid."

A clenched jaw, a deeply indrawn breath, and she nods. Sometimes I hate you.

"I expect you'll manage, Roxy." The Elder Daeva arches a brow.

"Right." Her response is nearly growled.

I may be soft in your palm but I'll soon grow
Hungry for a fight, and I will not let you win
My pretty mouth will frame the phrases that will
Disprove your faith in man
So if you catch me trying to find my way into your
Heart from under your skin

The banter flies back and forth between them, the verbal warfare is polite on the exterior, but the meaning behind the words is unmistakable.

"I'm sure that being a stuck up "Unconquered" bitch fits you well." I still can't believe you stayed after I FOUND a way to make Cruac work for you.

"Fuck you, Dre." I'm Sorry, baby.

Fast as you can, baby scratch me out, free yourself
Fast as you can
Fast as you can, baby scratch me out, free yourself
Fast as you can

-- update coming --

"Man..I gotta learn how to dance before the gathering in October..."

"Why, Rox?"

"Cause of the stupid Grand Ballo thing again..."

His voice is smooth as silk, playing over her senses and making her shiver a little, "I can teach you how to dance.."

He watches her, like a cat watches a mouse...

"I...um...okay.." she pauses, and half smiles, "Tribulation brings enlightenment huh?"

"I didn't say it would be painful.." his smile is slow.

"That's cause you've never tried to teach me to dance.."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.