α мαzє wιтнoυт є и ∂

[Wildmagic_warrior]

Charlotte Richardson.
[carry on my wayward son
there'll be peace when you are done
lay your weary head to rest
don't you cry no more]

Stop. Wait. Listen.

A thickly-built human crouched in the entrance of a sewer, one fist on the ground, the other palm-down on the slimy wall. Their head was down, eyes closed. It was impossible to tell if they were male or female, seeing as they were mostly in the shadows. One might have originally thought male, since their hair was cropped an inch from their head.

Then the person stood, but the five-foot diameter of the sewer forced them to stay hunched over until they came out into the brilliantly blinding sunlight.

Now it was clear that the person was female, but about as unfeminine as it was possible to be. She was a brute, certainly, standing at four inches over six feet tall. Some people might have seen a savage beauty in her, but not many, and certainly not herself. Her chin was square, her nose crooked from a long-ago break.

Charlotte took a moment to look around, swiveling her head far to the right to compensate for her missing eye. There was nobody in her vicinity, but she knew that they were here. She would have to be careful. Judging by the sun, it was something past who-the-hell-knows-o'clock. The light was coming from the east, though, so it was just a little after dawn. She had a day to find food, water, and shelter before the really nasty beasties came out to play. It was not people she was worried about, not really. It's hard to give damns about other humans when you're as massive as Charlotte is. However, she knew she had to be cautious. This city harbored deadly things, and one wrong step could mean death.

Blinking her one good eye, the woman wiped her sewer-slimed hand on her ripped trousers and set off in as straight a line as she could. There was rubble blocking her way, and plants had forced themselves up through the cracks in the streets and sidewalks. If she had been more artistically inclined, Charlotte might have seen the dying city as tragic and beautiful. However, this was not the case. It was an arena to her, and she meant to beat it. But beating it meant finding food, and finding food meant making her way to the heart of this broken metropolis.

[{{ f i a s c o }}]

[i]t h e lost o n e

the dawn to end all nights;
that's all you h o p e d it was.
give rest to the w a r f a r e in your house;
to each his own.

Dawn irks me. I don't know why - I only know I don't enjoy sunrise.

Well, actually, perhaps I do.

Dawns signify new begginings. Hope. The end of evil. Happiness. All those are foreign to me now; I live in darkness, subdued by an evil race genetically engineered so finely they have outñumbered us completely. I cannot hold onto hope, not even the slimmest of golden threads, because, well, they follow me.

It's only going to get worse, I remind myself. Live the moment while you can, they say. Carpe diem, the likes. You only age, you only get slower, more stupid. What rises, falls. Just look what happened to us. We're used as rat labs, pushed into existing in seweres. Into fighting ourselves in barbarian battles for meager supplies. And I have the added stress of having to quieten my steps because of them. Life just gets harder, and their little game just proves it.

So, for a charming moment, I enjoy the burning strain from my muscles as they scream in protest from the agony of suspending myself from a corner in a sewage dead end, listening to waste drip and trickle slowly it's way around, and the scurry of rat claws on weathered cement.

I like it here - the sewers I mean. It's easy to get around - that is, when you know how to - and they never come when I'm down here. Neither do the Optimei bother with the sewage - it's too dirty - but I'm sure they know exactly where we are, but decide to ignore it. My fellow enemies use these often, but they never venture down as deep as I do normally. I actually don't think they know who I am, where I live, what I do. I've never seen a fellow human, not once in a very long time, which means I must be doing something properly.

That's what it's all about - survival. Or it will be, in a few days. Some suspect, others doubt. I know. They told me. The Optimei are coming. It's been too quiet. They're planning something.

A growl from my stomach startles me, reminding me that i must resurface soon to find something to eat. Lion is best, easy to catch, too, if you're good at long range - which I am not. Even now, set wild by our masters, they haven't returned to their natural instinctive state. They trust humans, but are elusive. I'd you can put a bullet through their eyes, you've got enough to eat for weeks, maybe, if you preserve it properly.

I jump down from my corner, and instinctively close my eyes. I don't enjoy partiality. You're in or out. Therefore, I succumb to the conforting recoves of my mind, in the deep dark black.

I begin moving - at first tenatively, then moving into a light jog - pulling myself lithely over steps , edges, chairs. However, such rapid change soon takes it toll; I haven't eaten in a day or two, and I'm breathing hard and soon drenched in sweat. I just hope the lions have exited their dens by now, so I can simply stab one in the back and drag it back down again.

Soon, I feel faint sunlight flicker over my eyelids. I wince; I have a fair complexion, paired with msimatched azure eyes and thin, near-blond eyelashes. This is why I keep to darkness. It's more natural for me than being out in plain sight, in daylight.

My hands reach out for the edge of the last staircase, and I pull myself up onto the torn, yet well-heated dark asphalt. By the large expanse of treed, I figure I must be somewhere near the east entrance of Central Park. Good. The lions cannot be far off.

Theb I remember; I have no gun. I lost my last knife a couple of days ago. There's no way I'm going to get near a 500 pound carnivore without getting killed. I let out an exasperated growl, and slam my fists against a nearby tree. To my surprise, a pear falls down, ripe, bruised, heavy. And then the scent slams into my nose. Sweet, overwhelming. My mouth waters, and, without knowing it, my hands are grabbing nooks in the gnarled tree trunk, my legs pressed closely, my t-shirt off as quickly as I am on the branches. Sweat ripples down my front, but as far as I care, it's worth it.

My hands grapple on the pieces of fruit, bringing them into my lap. Glory. Without thinking, I bite into one. It's perfect. I eat a couple more pieces, almost till I'm bursting, but decide regretfully that I have to keep some for later. The sun speckles at my chest, and I close my eyes happily. Then I feel it. I hear it. Them.

I tense, hunching up immediately in a clutch. My arms strain, and I immediately regret having eaten anything at all. I can't run eith a full stomach, let alone full hands, with fruit for the near future. "Who goes"?" I demand, almost angrily, my voice wavering slightly.

Well, I left the ending open so anyone that wants to can join in with my charrie. And when it says "them" without referral to anyone, its related to his paranoid schizophrenia; I wanted to italic it, but my coding isn't working ^^"

[average]

ʰᵉᵃʳ ᵐʸ ᵛᵒᶤᶜᵉ
ᶤ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒᵒᵈˢ ᵇʸ ᶜʰᵒᶤᶜᵉ
ˢʰᵉˡᵗᵉʳ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢʰᵃᵈᵉ
ᵃᶰᵈ ᶤᶰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʳᵏ ᶤ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᶰᵒ ᶰᵃᵐᵉ


ˢᵒ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶜˡᶤᶜᵏ ᶤᶰ ᵐʸ ʰᵉᵃᵈ
ᵃᶰᵈ ʷᶤˡˡ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵃᶤᵈ
ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵃ ᶜˡᵒᵘᵈᵉᵈ ᵐᶤᶰᵈ ᵃᶰᵈ ᵃ ʰᵉᵃᵛʸ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ
ᵇᵘᵗ ᶤᵐ ˢᵘʳᵉ ʷᵉ ʷᶤˡˡ ˢᵉᵉ ᵃ ᶰᵉʷ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ


ˢᵒ ˡᶤᵍʰᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵒᵖᵉˢ ᵒᶰ ᶠᶤʳᵉ
ᵇᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏᶰᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵈᵉˢᶤʳᵉ
ᵈᵒᶰᵗ ʰᵒˡᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍˡᵃˢˢ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠˡᵃᵐᵉ
ᵈᵒᶰ'ᵗ ˡᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ᵍʳᵒʷ ᶜᵒˡᵈ
ᶤ ʷᶤˡˡ ᶜᵃˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇʸ ᶰᵃᵐᵉ
ᶤ ʷᶤˡˡ ˢʰᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʳᵒᵃᵈ


ˢᵒ ʰᵒˡᵈ ᵐᵉ ᶠᵃˢᵗ
ʰᵒˡᵈ ᵐᵉ ᶠᵃˢᵗ ᶜᵘˢ ᶤᵐ ᵃ ʰᵒᵖᵉˡᵉˢˢ ʷᵃᶰᵈᵉʳᵉʳ


ˢᵒ ʰᵒˡᵈ ᵐᵉ ᶠᵃˢᵗ
ʰᵒˡᵈ ᵐᵉ ᶠᵃˢᵗ ᶜᵘˢ ᶤᵐ ᵃ ʰᵒᵖᵉˡᵉˢˢ ʷᵃᶰᵈᵉʳᵉʳ


ᵃᶰᵈ ᶤ ʷᶤˡˡ ˡᵉᵃʳᶰ
ᶤ ʷᶤˡˡ ˡᵉᵃʳᶰ ᵗᵒ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵏᶤᵉˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃᶰᵈᵉʳ


ᶤ ʷᶤˡˡ ˡᵉᵃʳᶰ


ᶤ ʷᶤˡˡ ˡᵉᵃʳᶰ ᵗᵒ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵏᶤᵉˢ ᶤ ʷᵃᶰᵈᵉʳ
ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵏᶤᵉˢ ᶤ ʷᵃᶰᵈᵉʳ

ＡＲＩＥＬ ＴＲＩＮＩＴＹ ＩＮＤＰＲＥＥＴ ＳＯＭＭＥＲＴＥＮ
ᵃ ʳ ᶤ ᵉ ˡ ᵗ ʳ ᶤ ᶰ ᶤ ᵗ ʸ ᶤ ᶰ ᵈ ᵖ ʳ ᵉ ᵉ ᵗ ˢ ᵒ ᵐ ᵐ ᵉ ʳ ᵗ ᵉ ᶰ
ａｒｉｅｌ ｔｒｉｎｉｔｙ ｉｎｄｐｒｅｅｔ ｓｏｍｍｅｒｔｅｎ

{ ѕσ qυιcк тσ נυмρ тσ cσηcℓυѕισηѕ
;; тιмє тσ ƒιη∂ αη єѕcαρє

Her breathing was quiet, but ragged. She was busily trying to find her way out from the darkness - she was unsure where she was at, but it seemed too her like an endless hallway. She crouched down, and felt a cool smooth surface. A short question formed in her mind - Linoleum? She paused, and listened. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but she was nearly positive that she heard faint music in the distance. She she continued her quiet trek along this mysterious place.

She desperately needed a weapon; if luck was on her side, then a knife. Ariel's eyes were trying their hardest to adjust in the dimness, but they were not able too. Squinting her blue eyes, the girl continued to walk, on her tiptoes to be quieter, and held out her hand to the right of the wall, her index finger just barely trailing the rugged surface.

She could hear the music better now, it sounded a bit like a piano, but it was clear to Ari that it was a tape, for there was an inconsistent skipping on the track. She breathed a soft sigh of relief; it wasn't anyone in there, from what she could tell. She paused - her finger was no longer trailing a wall, but emptiness. It was an opening to a room! Peering her head in, she still couldn't see anything, but the music was in this room, she could tell. Her gut instinct told her not to touch anything, and she prayed to nothing in particular that nothing would pop out from the blackness. a faint whistling told her that there was a window, and a grim smile formed on her pink lips. Just what I was looking for.

She exhaled slowly, stuck her head out the window, but still couldn't see anything. With a slight bit of courage - it was all she had going for her - Ariel jumped. Her long braid flew after her, and she landed on hard wood, biting her lip hard to not shriek out in pain. From the feel of it, it was a giant recycling bin. She reached for the rim of the bin, and pulled herself out. Looking up, she no longer heard any music. Perhaps it had been her imagination after all. Trying to clear her thoughts, Ari shook her head.

Now, she needed a weapon.

[average]

{ second bump. ^^; }

[Wildmagic_warrior]

[I can't do anything until Light posts, because I don't know where they're going with this.]

[light.]

[ - ʟeѕѕαdrααʟʟessαɴdrα κɴox o'cαʟʟαʜαɴ ]

“ mood ”
..annoyed
“ where”
..street
“ with ”
..none
“ crush ”
..forever alone

wip

sorry I couldn't post before guys, I've been feeling ill lately :c

➸ you don't want to k n o w what my lies hide

-----------------------------------------------

[shudder]

[I know it's not the prettiest thing right now, but I wanted to get something up soon. I'll just come back and do the formatting.]

Rodney sat with his back pressed against a wall, while he stared at the one just across from him. The alley was almost peaceful, you know? A building's shadow protected him from the sun and it was oddly quiet. That kind of silence would probably put normal people on edge. Why can't you hear anything? Are you being stalked? Rodney wasn't concerned with that. The silent guy at heart, it was about as welcoming as ever. However, he was well aware sitting in an alley wouldn't help his chances of winning. Rodney needed something to use as a weapon, and it wouldn't hurt to get a look around his surroundings. The thought of not knowing anything about this place irritated him.

Standing up, he stretched out his muscles and blinked a few times. How long had he been sitting there? Aside from the sun and the shadows moving from here to there, there didn't feel to be a sense of time here. No reason to rush things, yet doing nothing felt weird. Or maybe that part was just something unique to him. He preferred to actually be doing something rather than hang about. Rodney walked out into the street, immediately aware of how open it was. Someone on top of a building or in a tree could pick him off with a bow and arrow. Or a wild animal could see him. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to stop thinking of all the negative things that could come up.

And to be honest, despite knowing people were out to kill him, along with animals and starvation, it just didn't feel all the dangerous yet. The environmental was almost deceptive in that way. Perhaps it would suddenly appear real when there's a knife pressed to his throat and a spear in his back. The thought made him smile, if only for a few seconds. The call of a bird finally reached his ears and he was starting to become aware of the sun on his body. Rodney always hated heat, and prayed to no one all summer and spring for the fall and winter chill. The alley was calling him back now. The shade and the quiet, but it also lacked food, weapons, just about everything he needed.

Now he was jogging. His feet moved rhythmically and his eyes scanned the surrounding area. So far, there weren't any signs that someone else had passed through or still lingered. Good. Wouldn't be much of a fight if someone bigger than him wanted to take him on. Rodney was a pretty thin guy, built for flight unless he had a knife in his hand. Thinking about it, maybe he needed a strategy for this thing. After all, it was a game, and he would prefer to win. Running on auto while his thoughts wandered, Rodney kept going down the streets, unconcerned with where he ended up as long as he could get something from it.

[intriguing]

~ Jed Matthews ~

Jed was perched against a wall, he looked thoughtful, if irritated and was gently tapping a thick leather bound notebook on his thumb. One foot was pressed flat against the wall, keeping his balance, the other was on the floor, keeping his stability, and still there was a constant rhythmic tapping of the book against his thumb. He opened it, scanned the first page and shut it again.
His survival mechanism.
Writing.
It was his own personal way of not going insane. Writing about his life.
With a sudden decision that flickered across his face he bounced up from the wall, which wasn't exactly a wall from a further glance, but the curved cement of a tunnel, on side led to darkness, the other to light. He was barely in the tunnel; the puddles were only a half inch thick. He listened, and then he dashed out of the tunnel and into the one adjacent. This time he went deeper in. Other than the dripping of broken pipes it was silent. He knelt and sniffed the water. His nose wrinkled. He placed a finger in the puddle and licked his finger. His nose wrinkled again but he must have deemed it safe. He cupped his hands and sipped it with only a slight sputter. He knew what they put in it. It was a poison of some description that grappled with your life and toyed with your mind. Over several years he had become immune to it, dosing himself daily with a little bit at a time until he could take even more than they put in the water. It still didn't improve the taste. It made him miss fruit. They still had fruit, huge expanses of orchards or trees. But they were Optimei run, and thus reserved for only Optimei. A crate load had been smuggled and he'd craved fruit ever since. His stomach rumbled for it now, but the nearest food was rat. He stared deep into the animal's eyes and took its life. He smelled the creature. Vulgar. He knew he would have to eat whilst he was here in the arena, but he didn't want to eat something that was so obviously just a ploy for his imminent death. They had been relentless whoever they were. The organisers of this little 'event'. He would die soon, from starvation if not suicide. He sat and ignored his stomach and opened up the notebook. He scribbled frantically. He needed distracting from his ever-approaching death. He wrote.

I am hungry and blinded by sunlight. I live in tunnels and darkness and I long for the taste of- I long for any taste. Anything that is not dull charred meat. I long for fruit, for something sweet, for something to quench my hunger. Or at least for humanity. I long for contact, I long for love. I yearn. I need food and I need contact. I need to live and not to die of the many traps I know are laid for me.

He let his pen stop, he seemed thoughtful again. He closed the book and closed any view of his elegant yet scratchy handwriting. He wrote small to get it in, He knew he'd never find another notebook, especially not one quite so beautiful as this. So he tried to fit three small lines of his font into one line of that of an average person. He suddenly entertained a thought fo the Optimei. The superior race. Every single on he'd met lacked any kind of creativity. He smiled. Humanity had not lost yet. Jed trudged on and sat outside. There was a tree in amongst the hovel like houses, all battered and shamefully cared for, if cared for at all. Roofs of tarp or shett metal, stole a few materials. He built a nest around the tree that blended with the surroundings; rubble. He crawled inside. All was quiet. It made him sad. He peered out the hole he had just come through. Shelter and no food? Usually it was the other way around. He had been exposed to the elements but given bountiful supplies before, but never had he felt the rumbling stomach whilst warm and fairly comfortable. With a pang of guilt it reminded him of home. Another trick. Remind them of home and they will go mad. Jed spotted it immediately, but he almost wanted to give in, he was tired of playing their games. He was tired.

He awoke later, he wasn't sure how much later, a rat was on his face and another in his boot. He grumbled, but once again he slept.

[Wildmagic_warrior]

[So... it's dead?]

[average]

[So... it's dead?]

i guess. light posted her format twice but never followed through, & we don't really know what to do exactly. :u