ѕнυdderғoх- wrote:No one man should have all that power; The clocks tickin' I just count the hours; Stop trippin' I'm tripping off the power; Till then, the world's ours
Storm sat on the hood of his car, parked right outside of his apartment complex. He was never really one for watching stars. Back when his life was a little faster than it currently was, his nights were filled with one or more of a few things; partying, training, one night stands, working, or dragging himself home to take care of his brother. For a year he was obligated to take care of his sick mom. The memory of her being knocked off her feet by pounding headaches and being unable to hold anything down thanks to the cancer should’ve made him sad. It did. He wasn’t heartless. But as he brought his legs up and curled into a sitting position - Indian style - he chose to disregard the memory. There was too much attached to it and it was too nice a night to get lost in depressing thoughts. And Storm knew being depressed wasn’t something he needed or wanted. He wanted a soda really badly. He needed a little money to pay rent. But right now he was distracted by the sky. The stars. The movie that was unfolding above him, making even someone like him keep watching to see what would happen. Storm leaned back against the windshield and folded his arms behind his head as he relaxed. The air was chilly - he always liked the cold, and couldn’t help but also be entertained by his breath coming out in puffs of visible fog. Too bad snow hadn’t shown it’s face yet. Oh well. More stars shot across the sky and Storm tilted his head, remembering being young, when his brother was still considered a baby, his mom wasn’t sick, his dad wasn’t on bad terms with him. He was maybe six or seven, but it was after the fourth of July. Storm didn’t think anything could beat the fireworks they all had sat outside watching. But when the show was over and he was about to fall asleep on the grass, his mom woke him up with a shout and her finger pointing towards the sky. He saw his first “shooting star” that night. More intriguing than exploding purple lights, he already knew that you made wishes on them. Back then he believed in wishes, and wished for a dog. Then, after thinking it over, he wished for another night like that one, where he could hang out in the cool of the night with his family having fun… and, still, he wanted a dog. (A Husky, actually.)
But now he was older. He’d seen the world and knew wishes weren’t real. If you wanted something to happen, you had to make it happen yourself. That’s what he learned, at least. But now that the stars were just popping up everywhere - like fireworks on the fourth of July - he had to remember that night. So what was the harm in wishing? It couldn’t hurt. “Convince me,” Storm shrugged, speaking aloud even thought no one was there to hear him. He looked down at his hands, then back up at the sky, shrugging. “Show me something, anything,” he wasn’t sure what he wanted to see. Gosh, now he was acting as if he really believed those stars would do something. But still, even if they did, did he want them to? Storm wasn’t sure what type of change he wanted in his life. Or maybe he just wanted to see if something in general would happen.
Whatever, he didn’t think it would happen that soon. All at once, it was like he was being badly shaken at a high, painful speed. Like getting shocked. The breath was knocked out of him and Storm’s eyes squeezed shut as he found himself falling over and eventually sliding off the hood of his car. Pinned between his and the car next to him, his muscles felt like they were tightening as he convulsed on the concrete. He must’ve hit his head, now feeling that pain mix in with what he was feeling everywhere else. Storm gritted his teeth together, reaching a shaky arm to grab the door handle and pull himself to his feet. Only, his arm never made it there. His vision blurred until nothing but black surrounded him.- - -
Storm woke up with a killer headache and this warm, weird feeling about him. The light coming from a rising sun burned his green eyes, causing him to blink rapidly, trying to adjust. And it took a moment to find his legs. One hand on top of his car, he pulled himself up and leaned onto the car with his head in his hands. The sun warmed up his back. He only wished he was waking up from a hard night of partying or clubbing with friends. The events of last night were all too clear to be normal. Plus, he still had no clue what actually happened.
Storm staggered across the street, making his way to his apartment door minutes later. He must’ve left it unlocked seeing how it opened so easily. He wasn’t hungry or anything. Storm just wanted to crash on the couch. Blacking out apparently wasn’t the most restful experience.[Hah, I've found my muse!... night everybody.]
DarkHowl wrote:The Flame and Mist
Two clans fight. Two clans protect. Two clans love. Two clans hate. Two clans live. Two clans survive.You stalk a mouse silently as it nibbles at a small nut beneath a large oak tree. Perfect... No one's around and you're not caught yet. Plus, the night's darkness conceals you from view. It's so quiet in this unfamiliar forest, you can almost hear your own heart beating. Your stomach growls in hunger and you don't move your eyes away from your future meal. I'm just going to catch it and go. I don't want to stick around this place. The moonlight filtering down through the treetops baths the clearing you're crouching in. Everywhere you look, you feel there's someone watching you. Once you're close enough, a twig snaps behind you and the rodent dashes off. You stand up, letting out a growl, but your eyes can't hide the fact how frightened you are. Then you see them.
Three strong looking cats make there way to you. One leaps silently down a tree to land one tail-length away from you and two more appear from the shadows, standing at the large tom's sides. Their heads are raised proudly and their eyes glint in the moonlight. "What are you doing on Clan territory?" one large ginger tom snaps at you. A smaller cat rests her tail on her comrade's shoulders to calm him. You stare with wide eyes at the battle-hardened cats, with proud faces and mysterious eyes. Warriors... You remember hearing about them, thinking they were all made up stories before, only now your're wrong about them being myths.
The she-cat, a pretty, dark grey tabby, steps forward to look at you with piercing, intelligent indigo eyes. You crouch down in fear as she unsheathes her razor sharp claws and you notice a long scar running down the other tom's flank. "Well? Are you here to join either us or Flameclan? If not..." She growls and takes another step towards you but doesn't seem to give any indication of a fight. "..If not, then you better explain why you're hunting on Mistclan territory."Mistclan and Flameclan. Both are strong and powerful. But to each one individually, one is always better than the other.
In harmony, everything is peaceful between the two clans. But of course, that period of peace between the two never sticks around for long...
Battles are a way of life. You must fight to survive in these lands, and fight to protect your clan. The same goes for hunting.
Betray your clan, whether it be Flameclan or Mistclan, and you will be punished or even exiled. Unless of course, you get off on a lucky streak...
Well, you think you can make it through without whining? It's your choice.
BloodyCrystal56 wrote:Yeah, me too. Though I want to do one on either Pokemon, or some anime I like XD
Hmm, I don't have very many more ideas. I think it'd be interesting to do a Wonderland 1x1. I mean the cartoon version, since I like it better ^^
What kind of things are you wanting to do right now?
James T. Kirk wrote:________________________________________
sᴘᴀᴄᴇ: ᴛʜᴇ ғɪɴᴀʟ ғʀᴏɴᴛɪᴇʀ.
ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴏʏᴀɢᴇs ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴀʀsʜɪᴘ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴘʀɪsᴇ.
ɪᴛs ғɪᴠᴇ─ʏᴇᴀʀ ᴍɪssɪᴏɴ: ᴛᴏ ᴇxᴘʟᴏʀᴇ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ ɴᴇω ωᴏʀʟᴅs; ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇᴋ ᴏᴜᴛ
ɴᴇω ʟɪғᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇω ᴄɪᴠɪʟɪsᴀᴛɪᴏɴs; ᴛᴏ ʙᴏʟᴅʟʏ ɢᴏ
ωʜᴇʀᴇ ɴᴏ ᴍᴀɴ ʜᴀs ɢᴏɴᴇ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ...
________________________________________
(I used to be glittermousebb.)
Silence pervaded the frigid air. Leaves of a myriad of colors littered the forest floor. A used campsite lay before the group; some one had been here just two days before, and they weren't moving quickly.
Cyb, her second mate, and another crew member scouted the area, tracking one Captain Lourin. The rest of The Nereids remained with their ship, somewhere off the Canadian coast, guarding it from potential thieves. The three had trekked for quite some time, and were more than ready to complete their mission.
Cyb truly had no personal quarrel with Lourin; she had yet to meet the man. Yet she still spoke his name with some disdain. Cyb tended to dislike anyone who crossed Lord Captain, good reason or no. She would carry out the task handed to her, and she would do so quickly and without fuss.
The team moved silently through the forest, using the smallest of hand signals to communicate when needed. They all knew that their target was near, and despite fatigue and frustration, they glided quickly, somehow avoiding the twigs and leaves scattered around. The elite hunter kept one hand on her pistol, the other on her compass, which she checked periodically. She knew instinctively which way was correct, but the compass relieved her of any doubt.
Their journey had not been a short one. Weather and tribals delayed the team continuously, turning what should have been an easy tracking mission into a months-long trek. Food had been hard to come by; tubers, deer meat, mice, fish...anything quick and easy to kill fed them daily. No complaints escaped their lips, however. Cyb had a good crew, one of the best within the elites, and she was thankful for it.
A few hours tracking past the campsite brought the three to a clearing. They hadn't rested in several hours. Cyb noticed her second mate's cough and called for a halt; even professionals need a break now and then. She drew some meat out of her pack and handed it to the women, who nodded gratefully and took their fill.
Words were scarce. They each feared giving away their location at any time. Often they wouldn't build fires for fear that the smoke would attract enemies. Or worse, attract the attention of their prey. So they ate quietly, communicating silently.
Something stirred far away. Cyb's neck strained as her head snapped toward the sound, her pistol out and ready for business. A shotgun went off somewhere in the distance. Cyb stood up and motioned for her crew to do the same; they were already up, weapons out. Smirking, Cyb mouthed the word, "Finally," and they slinked off toward the sound, leaving no trace of their short rest.
Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 16 guests