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Post by Joseph on Jan 21, 2011 8:41:31 GMT -5
Well, my semi-disappearance has gone without a proper reason, and still does. All I can say is that I lost interest in Dragonball >.< Well, that interest is back, and I return to see figurative corpses everywhere. So let's call everyone back up and decide on our next course of action. Who knows, we could all come together and administrate one huge site >.> I have a few ideas to share if anyone's interested.
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Post by Joseph on Jan 23, 2011 0:08:15 GMT -5
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Post by b u l m a on Jun 16, 2011 17:47:48 GMT -5
Splintering plastic, the constitution of your average pen was little match for anxiety and an idle set of teeth. The lurid nocturn's mein paid homage to the irascability festering in the vast depths of her impatience, steam rising from the sewerlids in the street ahead. Her eyes, hungry, shadowed by the obscurity of tinted windows, ravaged the warehouse walls for any indication of prey. The predictability of the prehensile impulse's undefeatable nature, howbeit cantankerous beyond the strands of her fortitude, had, for an unnumbered time that night, completed the cycle between enducing a mindset that was nigh entertained with herself to one of excrutiating vexation. A delicate shudder took her, raddling the metalic star pinned to her uniform, though not from the cold.
"Anything on your end, Pete?" A voice rasped through the static from her radio.
"Nothing relative. But I bet my bottom dollar you could make a career on drug busts out here."
Bloodshed in the water, sharks were only dilatory when you wished them not. Selena dropped the pen with petulant suddenness before her fingers glissaded beneath the veil of her bangs, brushing their chesnut strands to messily align with the rest of her coffiere. A pontail, loose and, unfortunately, a bit mood reflectant. It was her first stake out as a commisioned deputy. Her unmarked vehicle was positioned in an ally across from the target warehouse in which their snare had been laid. It had been hours since the last time they claimed to be calling it a night. But the "give him five more minutes.", "give him ten."s could be startlingly clandestine in their proliferation.
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Post by b u l m a on Jun 28, 2011 21:30:22 GMT -5
Her lips parted in the faintest of snarls that dissapeared when he turned to face her again. A white ribbon made her coffiere, light hair, nimble toys to a breeze which glissaded over the rippling grasslands. Sunlight streamed in young pristinity, its rays captured by the dew on the lattice climbing the tower's wall. "Your attitude," He continued, words, by now, defensively condemning. "it's atrocious. We are the very last people you should be doing this to, as if it were appropriate behavior to display toward anyone. We are only trying to help you and yet you speak to us like dogs."
"I know." An appology lingered on the tip of her tongue, but her pride would not permit its conspicuous manifestation under the challenging nature of his tone.
"But that's when we're lucky! I suppose I should be thankful you ever 'condensend' to acknowledging us at all." He studdied her with a sporting stare, digging desperately for an answer he could tell now he wouldn't get. "Nothing to say?"
"No sir."
He stared at her for a moment longer, expectant, hopeful even, before it faded with the dispatch of a sigh. He tossed his hands up in defeat before turning to walk away.
Her heart trailed after him, howbeit only her heart. Perhaps that was very reason she was so puissantly frassled. The femme turned her scowl over the landscape, resting her arms across the balcony's ivory balustrade with a huff as the closing of that heavy oak door echoed behind her. She would find him. Later. When her poison drained and her conscience regained its throne she would pull him aside, wrap him in a warm embrase, appologise. She would tell him her coldness was only because of a depression she warred. That it wasn't his fault.
But, depression? A princess? What did a princess lack?
The femme could hardly grasp the thoughtlessness of her compliance to rising so early; there was nothing of interest to do. Learn to cook, learn to clean, learn to be an chic, proper lady of the high echelons even as her kingdom crawled. To prepare her for a life lived out within these walls. Would she ever find a hole? Did she really want to? Her cerulean stare gazed enviously through the lattis leaves the knights as they mounted their horses.
They were so far below. Yet, even despite the distance, that bright glisten off dark eyes was just as lucid to her as the flutter they wrought in her heart. Malicious eyes, at times. But he gave a polite nod as he sat in his saddle and allowed his stare an indulgent linger; his horse, black and white, tossed its head and sidestepped in impatience. He knew what lied beyond that horizon. He slayed the wolves. He saw her as a delicacy. Was he a wolf himself? The knight turned his horse and galloped off to join the others, leaving her to stare longingly after them with the pernicious urge to bite as they disappeared into the blinding light of the sunrise.
Her heart trailed after him. Howbeit, only her heart.
"You seem down." An injured soldier's rasp echoed in her memory as she sat at his bedside, personally tending his wounds. "It's just my mother." She had been flustered enough to be open with her issues of confinement in her safe little tower, of her parents' 'lofty' demeanor, their 'surmising' suspicion of her outward aspirations. She loved to see the wolf slain. Not meerly know it, but see it. The knowledge that another enemy had fallen was not nearly as satisfying as seeing the blood as it flew. Such was not an uncommon fancy, but more than once she had been called out in the form of an uncomfortable joke on the overeagerness in her eyes.
The soldier gave a delicate chuckle, soft...one faciley overlookable had she not been at his side. "I wish I'd had a mother to chastise me." He'd passed away within the short days to follow.
But with honors of unmatchable worth, you see. Arma tuentur pacem.
---
"She's wicked! She's wicked!"
Audaces fortuna iuvat. - Fortune favours the bold.
Aut vincere aut mori. - Either conquer or die.
Caveat. - Let him/her beware.
citius altius fortius – “Faster, higher, stronger” (Olympic
motto)
Deus vobiscum. - God be with you.
Divide et impera - Divide and conquer.
Dominus vobiscum. - The Lord be with you.
Esse quam videri - to be rather than to seem
ex cathedra - with authority
ex Deo - from God
Flamma fumo est proxima. - There is no smoke without fire.
gloria in excelsis Deo - glory to God in the highest
in extremis - in extremity
Laus Deo - Praise be to God.
lusus naturae - a freak of nature
magnum opus - the greatest piece of work
Oderint dum metuant ~ Let them hate so long as they fear.
oculus dexter (O.D.) - right eye
Omnia vincit amor - Love conquers all.
Primum non nocere. "First, do no harm."
Qui tacet consentit. - Who keeps silent, consents.
Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? - Who will guard the guardians?
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