Thursday, July 16, 2020
Friday, April 20, 2012
Time to Leave
A good song that really fits Bridget well is Metallica's "Of Wolf and Man"
Bridget’s fist collided with the side of the cleavers helmet, the jagged edges of her rings adding weight to her blow. His helmet cracked under the blow, and she hooked her fingers, worming her sharpened nails into the helmet, getting a grip and ripping the reinforced helmet apart like it was paper. The cleaver’s face was surprised, and that interested her. She didn’t know cleavers were capable of emotion. She drew back her right fist and punched again, the cleaver’s head snapping back with the force of the blow. Her rings bit deep into the cleaver’s flesh, drawing blood. The blood called to her, its sirens wail so powerful it actually pulled her head down against her will. She was able to ignore it though, like a prisoner on hunger strike. It had gotten easier to ignore the call of blood after the first month of starving herself. She was well into her third now, and the results were… interesting. She weighed less than 80 pounds, and her skin was pale and papery, like a corpses’. Her nails and teeth were long and sharp, even the in the day, which was her vampire side telling her it was time to feed. She was still a strong as ever though, hunger sharping every sense. On a clear day she could see for miles, and she could find a person four city blocks away just by their smell. It had been laughable that the sanctuary had sent just two cleavers to sneak up on her. She had heard them coming a mile away. Literally.
She was still supporting the cleavers limp form with a hand fisted in the front of his uniform, and for a minute she debated killing him. But that would cause complications she neither wanted nor needed. She spun, throwing the cleaver’s ragdoll form at the second cleaver behind her, who had been readying a blow. “Too slow!” She sang in her mind, crouching, then springing straight upwards, catching the streetlight 20 feet above her head. She pulled herself up onto the narrow bar that supported the light above the pavement, using her toes to grip it like some kind of monkey. She had stopped wearing shoes a while ago, they made her feel slow. Balanced as she was on the streetlight, she dug into the pockets of the leather jacket. She carried her life in that jacket now, everything she could possibly need squirreled away into the zippered pockets. She found what she was looking for, and produced a battered cigarette tin and an equally battered zippo. She stuck a cigarette between her pale lips, lighting it, then stashing the tin and zippo back in her pocket. Taking a long drag, she stared up at the sky. The city lights polluted her sharpened eyes to the point where she couldn’t see the stars anymore, and that saddened her. She had always liked stars, liked how they were constant, moving in their beaten tracks across the sky. She was there when Galileo and Da Vinci first started looking skywards, tracing the tracks her own eyes now struggled to see. She was old, so very old, and this would be her last glimpse of sky for a long, long time. Bridget tore her eyes away from the skies, looking down at the cleaver that was looking up at her. It was time to go.
She stood on the streetlight, raising her arms high above her head like an Olympic diver going for gold. She jumped, summersaulting twice in the air before hitting the ground like a pile driver. The pavement cracked under her feet as she slowly straightened, looming over the sanctuary pawn. The cleaver did not seem impressed by her dramatics.
“Take me to your leader.” She held out both hands in front of her, allowing herself to be cuffed. They left the body of the other cleaver laying there in the street, to be gathered up later. Bridget was prodded along with a scythe handle to the back as she and her captor made their way through the narrow backstreets of Roarhaven. She could see the cleavers van up ahead, and from there it would just be a quick ride, an even quicker trial, and then a very long time in jail.
They reached the van, and the cleaver stepped in front of her to unlock the doors. Bridget looked up at the sky again, tilting her head back as far as it would go. Still no stars. She sighed, slipping the noose made of her cuffed hands around the cleavers neck. She yanked hard, snapping the cleaver’s neck. As his limp body clattered to the ground, she caught his scythe with her toes, bracing it against the van and using it to snap the chain of the handcuffs. She left the wrist pieces, they looked kinda cool.
She had changed her mind; she wasn’t leaving yet. Not when there were still stars in the sky.
Bridget’s fist collided with the side of the cleavers helmet, the jagged edges of her rings adding weight to her blow. His helmet cracked under the blow, and she hooked her fingers, worming her sharpened nails into the helmet, getting a grip and ripping the reinforced helmet apart like it was paper. The cleaver’s face was surprised, and that interested her. She didn’t know cleavers were capable of emotion. She drew back her right fist and punched again, the cleaver’s head snapping back with the force of the blow. Her rings bit deep into the cleaver’s flesh, drawing blood. The blood called to her, its sirens wail so powerful it actually pulled her head down against her will. She was able to ignore it though, like a prisoner on hunger strike. It had gotten easier to ignore the call of blood after the first month of starving herself. She was well into her third now, and the results were… interesting. She weighed less than 80 pounds, and her skin was pale and papery, like a corpses’. Her nails and teeth were long and sharp, even the in the day, which was her vampire side telling her it was time to feed. She was still a strong as ever though, hunger sharping every sense. On a clear day she could see for miles, and she could find a person four city blocks away just by their smell. It had been laughable that the sanctuary had sent just two cleavers to sneak up on her. She had heard them coming a mile away. Literally.
She was still supporting the cleavers limp form with a hand fisted in the front of his uniform, and for a minute she debated killing him. But that would cause complications she neither wanted nor needed. She spun, throwing the cleaver’s ragdoll form at the second cleaver behind her, who had been readying a blow. “Too slow!” She sang in her mind, crouching, then springing straight upwards, catching the streetlight 20 feet above her head. She pulled herself up onto the narrow bar that supported the light above the pavement, using her toes to grip it like some kind of monkey. She had stopped wearing shoes a while ago, they made her feel slow. Balanced as she was on the streetlight, she dug into the pockets of the leather jacket. She carried her life in that jacket now, everything she could possibly need squirreled away into the zippered pockets. She found what she was looking for, and produced a battered cigarette tin and an equally battered zippo. She stuck a cigarette between her pale lips, lighting it, then stashing the tin and zippo back in her pocket. Taking a long drag, she stared up at the sky. The city lights polluted her sharpened eyes to the point where she couldn’t see the stars anymore, and that saddened her. She had always liked stars, liked how they were constant, moving in their beaten tracks across the sky. She was there when Galileo and Da Vinci first started looking skywards, tracing the tracks her own eyes now struggled to see. She was old, so very old, and this would be her last glimpse of sky for a long, long time. Bridget tore her eyes away from the skies, looking down at the cleaver that was looking up at her. It was time to go.
She stood on the streetlight, raising her arms high above her head like an Olympic diver going for gold. She jumped, summersaulting twice in the air before hitting the ground like a pile driver. The pavement cracked under her feet as she slowly straightened, looming over the sanctuary pawn. The cleaver did not seem impressed by her dramatics.
“Take me to your leader.” She held out both hands in front of her, allowing herself to be cuffed. They left the body of the other cleaver laying there in the street, to be gathered up later. Bridget was prodded along with a scythe handle to the back as she and her captor made their way through the narrow backstreets of Roarhaven. She could see the cleavers van up ahead, and from there it would just be a quick ride, an even quicker trial, and then a very long time in jail.
They reached the van, and the cleaver stepped in front of her to unlock the doors. Bridget looked up at the sky again, tilting her head back as far as it would go. Still no stars. She sighed, slipping the noose made of her cuffed hands around the cleavers neck. She yanked hard, snapping the cleaver’s neck. As his limp body clattered to the ground, she caught his scythe with her toes, bracing it against the van and using it to snap the chain of the handcuffs. She left the wrist pieces, they looked kinda cool.
She had changed her mind; she wasn’t leaving yet. Not when there were still stars in the sky.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
"There's a Hunter someplace around here."
Cosplay! Yay!
This afternoon while my grandparents were visiting I got bored, so naturally to fix this boredom I chose to do something weird. Like dress up as Hunter. Hunter is one of the zombies from Left 4 Dead 2, he looks like this:
Faded blue/gray sweatshirt with brown pants and duct tape wrappings, easy, right? ^^
Here's what I did.
Blue sweatshirt found on my bedroom floor with my heavy duty hiking pants. Some duct tape wrappings and fake blood and I'm ready to go! :D This was just for fun, to see if I could do it. If I were to put more then five minutes of effort into it, I would get a different sweatshirt and stain it with more fake blood. I would also get greenish face paint and talons for my hands.
Moar pics~
The only problems with this cosplay is that with the tape around my thighs it makes it hard to use the bathroom xD And also my hands and face are stained with fake blood now, it looks like a have a rash :P
Rawr, Hunter girl will nom your face >:3
This afternoon while my grandparents were visiting I got bored, so naturally to fix this boredom I chose to do something weird. Like dress up as Hunter. Hunter is one of the zombies from Left 4 Dead 2, he looks like this:
Faded blue/gray sweatshirt with brown pants and duct tape wrappings, easy, right? ^^
Here's what I did.
Moar pics~
The only problems with this cosplay is that with the tape around my thighs it makes it hard to use the bathroom xD And also my hands and face are stained with fake blood now, it looks like a have a rash :P
Rawr, Hunter girl will nom your face >:3
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Ablubblubblub Lizzy face
I got my hair dyed today, and Kal asked to see. So yeah, Lizzy face.
Bleh, ignore the dirty mirror :P
Saturday, December 24, 2011
WEDDING PICTURES~!
Hello peoples. I'll be doing wedding pictures for Kal's wedding ^^
Here's the info I need.
What you look like.
Hair color
Hair Style
Eye color
Glasses?
Piercings?
Other facial features
BFF/GF/BF/Spouse (if you want to be drawn with them)
What you'll be wearing (and what your other will be wearing) Pictures are a HUGE help!
And anything else you think might be helpful. Be as descriptive as you can please!
I'll try to draw as many as I can, but I don't know how many I'll be able to do. I also won't be coloring most of them. Just nice clean sketches, maybe with one color or something. We'll see ^^
COMMENT SOON~!
Here's the info I need.
What you look like.
Hair color
Hair Style
Eye color
Glasses?
Piercings?
Other facial features
BFF/GF/BF/Spouse (if you want to be drawn with them)
What you'll be wearing (and what your other will be wearing) Pictures are a HUGE help!
And anything else you think might be helpful. Be as descriptive as you can please!
I'll try to draw as many as I can, but I don't know how many I'll be able to do. I also won't be coloring most of them. Just nice clean sketches, maybe with one color or something. We'll see ^^
COMMENT SOON~!
Monday, November 14, 2011
Part one of the Feminae Fortes Clan. Happy birthday Kallie!
Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a beautiful princess. Her eyes were like cornflowers and her hair a glossy raven’s wing. She wore only the finest gowns of rich silk and spent her days practicing poetry and music. The land she ruled prospered under her, and when her people had a dispute, they came to their princess, and she settled the argument fairly. Her name was Kallista Pendragon and-
“Michelle! Come downstairs please.” Michelle sighed and slumped forward, hitting her forehead to the pages of her book. She breathed in the musty, comforting smell of a well-loved book for a moment before shutting it carefully and sliding off her bed. Trooping downstairs on sock clad feet, she went to the kitchen, where her mother waited impatiently.
“What took so long?” She asked, obviously not caring about the answer. Michelle shrugged as she stood listlessly, awaiting orders.
“I’ll be working late tonight.” Michelle’s mother informed briskly “So some dinner would be nice. I’m in the mood for a roast chicken with carrots. And don’t forget to clean up after yourself.” She grabbed her purse and keys, and breezed out the door, leaving her daughter alone in the darkened kitchen. Michelle sighed and pushed her hair out of her face. Today was going to be busy. She had to make dinner, clean up after it, vacuum, clean the bathrooms, and then there were leaves to rake in the front lawn. What a great way to spend a Saturday. Her thoughts strayed upstairs to the book waiting on her bed.
“Well,” She thought “A half hour of reading before a day of chores is fair, right?”
Michelle sighed dreamily and shut her book. It was her favorite, a thrilling love story about a princess unfairly accused and banished, but then she returned to her kingdom after many hair-raising adventures, handsome prince in tow. She ran her fingers slowly over the worn cover, which had once been rich crimson, but now was faded to almost pink.
“Someday. Someday I will find my prince and I’ll escape. Just like the princess.” She stared out the window for a moment, then jumped off her bed
“Oh CRAP.” her feet skidded on the hardwood floor as she ran downstairs. Somehow, the day had decided to into warp drive while she was reading, it was now 6 o’clock and getting dark. There was no way she could cook a whole chicken in the hour before her mom was supposed to return home. She grabbed a twenty from the food money tin in the cabinet and threw on shoes and a coat. If she hurried, she could go buy a roasted chicken from the store, and be back in time to make the carrots. She hurried out, pausing only to lock the door before setting off at a half-run. The chilly November air blew around her, sending little twisters of dead leaves spinning past. For a second, Michelle could have sworn she saw a face in the leaves, a girl one eye covered, before the leaves spun away again. Shivering, Michelle pulled her coat closer and hurried onwards. A few blocks later, she noticed her shoe was untied, and bent down to tie it. What she unfortunately did not notice was the ally behind her, and the three men lurking in it. She straightened up again, frowning and starting to turn. A man with the stature and smell of a bear came up behind her, wrapping his hairy arms around her waist and actually lifting her up a few inches. Michelle gave a short scream as she was carried back into the ally, her cry cut short as a hand was clapped over her mouth. A punk kid, with badly dyed green hair and a switchblade lurked nervously behind a the man with his hand over Michelle’s mouth, who reeked of booze
“Gimme all your money or I‘ll-” A sharp crack echoed in the alleyway and he staggered backwards clutching his forehead. A thin stream of blood trickled from between his fingers and his eyes unfocused. The sound as he hit the asphalt floor of the ally reminded Michelle of a watermelon splitting open.
“The fu-!” The punk jumped and his eyes focused on something behind the small mountain of a man who was holding Michelle.
“Why you little-!” He ran past them, switchblade out in a clumsy lunge. His battle cry was cut off with a short squeal, and several cracks and screams of pain.
A moment later he went flying past, all the fingers on his right hand bent strangely, and crashed into the alley wall. He groaned and went still. Startled, The Bear dropped Michelle and turned to face the new threat. The “threat” was a solidly built young girl, with glasses that shielded her green eyes and scraggly brown hair that fell in her face.
“’Sup?” She asked, bursting into flames. Michelle screamed as the girl was enveloped, but then her eyes widened as the girl did not burn. Her eyes and the end of every hair burned like the hottest part of the fire, but she was not consumed. She just kept burning. The Bear gave a startled yell and took a few steps backwards, almost crushing Michelle. The flames streaked down the girl’s face like tears, running down her neck into her shirt collar. A second later the fire spread out from under her t-shirt sleeves, tracing down her arms to her hands, where it pooled slowly. Out of the corner of her eye, Michelle saw the punk kid stir, getting to his knees while cradling his broken hand. While the fire pooled and took shape in her palms, the punk staggered to his feet, grabbing the switchblade in his good hand and lunging towards the glowing girl.
“You bitch!” he screamed, driving the knife towards her chest. A short hiss, like a snake, and then a soft “Swoosh” and the punk stopped dead. Astonished, he stared at a second woman, who seemed to glow in the dim light of the alley. Her silver hair shined and the one eye that wasn’t covered by an eye patch surveyed him solemnly. The punk’s knife wielding arm had been buried in the woman’s chest, the tip of the knife actually sticking out from her back a little. She had no legs, from her waist down she was a wisp of silvery gray mist, bobbing and rocking gently from the force for the blow. He tugged at his arm futilely, trying to release himself.
“Good catch, Sayen” The burning girl said, the fire in her hands flashing white for a second, then astonishingly solidifying into twin pistols, one held in each hand. This all happened in the space of mere seconds, Michelle and the astonished Bear looking on.
“Soooooo…” the burning girl, hair and eye’s still blazing demonically, drew her word out for such longer then really necessary.
“What we going to do with this little goon?” she circled slowly around the trapped and terrified punk.
“W-what the hell are you?” He yelled, pulling desperately on his trapped arm while trying to keep the twin pistols in sight at all times.
“Heh.” The burning girl jammed the barrel of one gun into his mouth and put the other to his temple. The punk’s eyes widened and he tried to mumble around the barrel, begging and pleading.
“What’s so funny?” The silver girl, Sayen, asked
“He said ‘what’ not ‘who’.” the burning girl elaborated
“Yes, I heard him” Sayen rolled her one silver eye
“It’s funny.”
“Not really.”
“You have weird humor.”
“Says the girl who tells dead monkey jokes.”
“Touché.” she pulled the triggers, sending both bullets into the punk’s head. In the deathly quiet moment after the shots, the punk’s eye’s rolled back into his head, a little dribble of blood oozing form the corner of his mouth. Michelle screamed as he hit the ground, arm slipping easily out from Sayen’s chest. The Bear, who had been frozen in shock, was galvanized back into action by the shots and the scream. With a roar he charged at the girls, only to be shot neatly between the eyes. He fell right on top of the punk, and the girls both winced sympathetically.
“That will leave a mark” Sayen muttered softly before turning to Michelle and asking louder
“Are you ok?” Michelle stared at her, dumbstruck.
“Psst, Sayen, legs.” The burning girl, still blazing cheerfully away with pistols in hand hissed.
“Wha? Oh, right.” Sayen looked vaguely see-through and frayed around the edges, like a watercolor painting. Slowly she came into focus, solidifying and taking mass. Her legs materialized and she touched down gently.
“So, are you ok?” Sayen asked, “I’m sorry if I frightened you.”
“She… just… killed them!” Michelle’s voice rose with each word as she pointed with a trembling finger to the burning girl, who had been staring vaguely out into the distance.
“What?” she blinked and came back to earth “Wazzgoinon?”
“You just killed three people!” shrieked Michelle
“Nah… They’ll be fine!” The burning girl smiled
“You shot them.”
“Asides from that they’ll be fine.” with a soft whoosh the burning girl extinguished, her hair returning to brown and her eyes taking on a less demonic shade.
“My bullets are special. In a couple of hours, those goons will wake up just fine. Asides from mild concussions and blinding headaches. And I might have kinda-sorta-maybe broken some of the guy with green hair’s fingers.” Michelle looked at her blankly
“You must have a different definition of ‘fine’ where you come from.”
“I no spreken da engleesh.”
“Ignore her” Sayen sighed “If you can argue with Liz then you’re probably fine. If you want we can escort you back to your home. You’ll be plenty safe there.”
“Uh, sure…” Michelle said unenthusiastically,
‘Like I could ever go back home and live a normal life after I saw someone get a knife stuck right through their chest. Literally stuck. And Miss burning wonder over there.’ she thought, glancing out from the corner of her eye at the girl called Liz. She was staring off into space again.
“I have a question though…”
“Of course, what is it?” Sayen asked kindly
“Just who the heck are you people?”
“We are proud members of the Feminae fortes clan.” Liz announced pompously “A group of proud warrior women that have banded together to protect humanity for centuries! We- ow ow ow Sayen that’s my foot”
“I’m Sayen Salazar, and this is Elisabeth Vague.” Sayen said, causally digging her high heeled boot into Liz’s high-tops.
“The pain… the pain!”
“I’m Michelle; it’s nice to meet you.” The girls shook hands while Liz dramatically complained about her foot.
“Thanks for saving me. From those guys and all.” Michelle said bashfully “How did you do it though? You weren’t even touching the ground! And I have no idea what she was doing either.” she gestured over to Liz,
“Hahaha, story of my life.” Sayen grinned “I am the daughter of the seven nations, born to lead my people to the Promised Land. That job stunk so I joined the Feminae fortes clan. Liz is the perfect example, not of how a clan member should act, but of how they should use their powers to protect others.”
“What are her powers?”
“Ya’ see this?” Liz happily head butted her way into the conversation and bust into flames again. Startled, Michelle shied away from the fire.
“Dun worry, it won’t hurt you” she smiled and the fire leaked from her eyes again, trailing down her arms and forming the duel pistols in her hands.
“These guns, my troll guns, are made out of bits of my soul, which is the fire you see right now. They fire little chips of my soul out at people, which pass through them and disrupt their soul, making them pass out. The soul chips then return to me like a boomerang, so my soul stays intact and doesn’t corrupt.” Liz walked over and pulled the drunkard, the one she had first shot, up by the hair.
“See?” She pointed to a small raised mark in the shape of an X. It was placed neatly between the drunk’s eyes and lighter then the rest of his skin. “That’s where my soul entered his head and knocked him out.” She contemplated the mark “A fine shot if I do say so myself.”
“Indeed.” Sayen nodded, then turned to Michelle. “We’ll escort you home now if you want.”
“Er, sure, I guess…” she sighed, looking away from Sayen’s intense one-eyed gaze.
“Unless…” Sayen smiled knowingly “You don’t want to?” Michelle’s head snapped up.
“What do you mean…?” she asked carefully.
“I ran away from home when I was sixteen.” Sayen shrugged casually, like it was no big deal, and continued “I lived rough for the first couple of days. Enough time to realize I needed a home.”
“And a shower” Muttered Liz
“And a shower.” Agreed Sayen, “If you want, you can come with us. And if it doesn’t work out you can return back home, no problem.” Michelle couldn’t believe her ears. Unless she had a hearing problem, these girls had just asked her to run away from home and come with them, two freaks of nature that she had met barely five minutes ago.
“You guys own a house?” She wondered
“Nah, we live in a group home with a few other people. The matron takes care of us all. Pays the bills and such” Liz said. She was kneeling down and poking the side of The Bear’s head with her pistols, obviously bored.
“So, you want me to come live in a group home with you. I don’t even know you guys!”
“It’s in Ireland~” Liz singsong-ed
“What?” Michelle pretended she didn’t hear
“The house is in Ireland. On a lovely piece of property too, all green rolling hills. They have stables and a nice little duck pond you can swim in during the summer. Lucky is in charge of the gardens, we have roses the size of your head! In all different colors too. The purple ones are my favorite.” Liz smiled, not the overly stretched maniacal grin of before, but a soft one.
“…” Michelle looked out from the alleyway towards the street. She had grown up in this town, and lived life better then most, but still, she couldn’t help but feel she was always meant for something more. Something more then just living the life her parents her wanted for her.
“Can I have a few minutes to pack?” Liz and Sayen both grinned.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY KALLIE~! *hugs* I couldn't finish the whole story in time, so it's going to be multi-part ^^ I hope you like it! *hugs again*
“Michelle! Come downstairs please.” Michelle sighed and slumped forward, hitting her forehead to the pages of her book. She breathed in the musty, comforting smell of a well-loved book for a moment before shutting it carefully and sliding off her bed. Trooping downstairs on sock clad feet, she went to the kitchen, where her mother waited impatiently.
“What took so long?” She asked, obviously not caring about the answer. Michelle shrugged as she stood listlessly, awaiting orders.
“I’ll be working late tonight.” Michelle’s mother informed briskly “So some dinner would be nice. I’m in the mood for a roast chicken with carrots. And don’t forget to clean up after yourself.” She grabbed her purse and keys, and breezed out the door, leaving her daughter alone in the darkened kitchen. Michelle sighed and pushed her hair out of her face. Today was going to be busy. She had to make dinner, clean up after it, vacuum, clean the bathrooms, and then there were leaves to rake in the front lawn. What a great way to spend a Saturday. Her thoughts strayed upstairs to the book waiting on her bed.
“Well,” She thought “A half hour of reading before a day of chores is fair, right?”
Michelle sighed dreamily and shut her book. It was her favorite, a thrilling love story about a princess unfairly accused and banished, but then she returned to her kingdom after many hair-raising adventures, handsome prince in tow. She ran her fingers slowly over the worn cover, which had once been rich crimson, but now was faded to almost pink.
“Someday. Someday I will find my prince and I’ll escape. Just like the princess.” She stared out the window for a moment, then jumped off her bed
“Oh CRAP.” her feet skidded on the hardwood floor as she ran downstairs. Somehow, the day had decided to into warp drive while she was reading, it was now 6 o’clock and getting dark. There was no way she could cook a whole chicken in the hour before her mom was supposed to return home. She grabbed a twenty from the food money tin in the cabinet and threw on shoes and a coat. If she hurried, she could go buy a roasted chicken from the store, and be back in time to make the carrots. She hurried out, pausing only to lock the door before setting off at a half-run. The chilly November air blew around her, sending little twisters of dead leaves spinning past. For a second, Michelle could have sworn she saw a face in the leaves, a girl one eye covered, before the leaves spun away again. Shivering, Michelle pulled her coat closer and hurried onwards. A few blocks later, she noticed her shoe was untied, and bent down to tie it. What she unfortunately did not notice was the ally behind her, and the three men lurking in it. She straightened up again, frowning and starting to turn. A man with the stature and smell of a bear came up behind her, wrapping his hairy arms around her waist and actually lifting her up a few inches. Michelle gave a short scream as she was carried back into the ally, her cry cut short as a hand was clapped over her mouth. A punk kid, with badly dyed green hair and a switchblade lurked nervously behind a the man with his hand over Michelle’s mouth, who reeked of booze
“Gimme all your money or I‘ll-” A sharp crack echoed in the alleyway and he staggered backwards clutching his forehead. A thin stream of blood trickled from between his fingers and his eyes unfocused. The sound as he hit the asphalt floor of the ally reminded Michelle of a watermelon splitting open.
“The fu-!” The punk jumped and his eyes focused on something behind the small mountain of a man who was holding Michelle.
“Why you little-!” He ran past them, switchblade out in a clumsy lunge. His battle cry was cut off with a short squeal, and several cracks and screams of pain.
A moment later he went flying past, all the fingers on his right hand bent strangely, and crashed into the alley wall. He groaned and went still. Startled, The Bear dropped Michelle and turned to face the new threat. The “threat” was a solidly built young girl, with glasses that shielded her green eyes and scraggly brown hair that fell in her face.
“’Sup?” She asked, bursting into flames. Michelle screamed as the girl was enveloped, but then her eyes widened as the girl did not burn. Her eyes and the end of every hair burned like the hottest part of the fire, but she was not consumed. She just kept burning. The Bear gave a startled yell and took a few steps backwards, almost crushing Michelle. The flames streaked down the girl’s face like tears, running down her neck into her shirt collar. A second later the fire spread out from under her t-shirt sleeves, tracing down her arms to her hands, where it pooled slowly. Out of the corner of her eye, Michelle saw the punk kid stir, getting to his knees while cradling his broken hand. While the fire pooled and took shape in her palms, the punk staggered to his feet, grabbing the switchblade in his good hand and lunging towards the glowing girl.
“You bitch!” he screamed, driving the knife towards her chest. A short hiss, like a snake, and then a soft “Swoosh” and the punk stopped dead. Astonished, he stared at a second woman, who seemed to glow in the dim light of the alley. Her silver hair shined and the one eye that wasn’t covered by an eye patch surveyed him solemnly. The punk’s knife wielding arm had been buried in the woman’s chest, the tip of the knife actually sticking out from her back a little. She had no legs, from her waist down she was a wisp of silvery gray mist, bobbing and rocking gently from the force for the blow. He tugged at his arm futilely, trying to release himself.
“Good catch, Sayen” The burning girl said, the fire in her hands flashing white for a second, then astonishingly solidifying into twin pistols, one held in each hand. This all happened in the space of mere seconds, Michelle and the astonished Bear looking on.
“Soooooo…” the burning girl, hair and eye’s still blazing demonically, drew her word out for such longer then really necessary.
“What we going to do with this little goon?” she circled slowly around the trapped and terrified punk.
“W-what the hell are you?” He yelled, pulling desperately on his trapped arm while trying to keep the twin pistols in sight at all times.
“Heh.” The burning girl jammed the barrel of one gun into his mouth and put the other to his temple. The punk’s eyes widened and he tried to mumble around the barrel, begging and pleading.
“What’s so funny?” The silver girl, Sayen, asked
“He said ‘what’ not ‘who’.” the burning girl elaborated
“Yes, I heard him” Sayen rolled her one silver eye
“It’s funny.”
“Not really.”
“You have weird humor.”
“Says the girl who tells dead monkey jokes.”
“Touché.” she pulled the triggers, sending both bullets into the punk’s head. In the deathly quiet moment after the shots, the punk’s eye’s rolled back into his head, a little dribble of blood oozing form the corner of his mouth. Michelle screamed as he hit the ground, arm slipping easily out from Sayen’s chest. The Bear, who had been frozen in shock, was galvanized back into action by the shots and the scream. With a roar he charged at the girls, only to be shot neatly between the eyes. He fell right on top of the punk, and the girls both winced sympathetically.
“That will leave a mark” Sayen muttered softly before turning to Michelle and asking louder
“Are you ok?” Michelle stared at her, dumbstruck.
“Psst, Sayen, legs.” The burning girl, still blazing cheerfully away with pistols in hand hissed.
“Wha? Oh, right.” Sayen looked vaguely see-through and frayed around the edges, like a watercolor painting. Slowly she came into focus, solidifying and taking mass. Her legs materialized and she touched down gently.
“So, are you ok?” Sayen asked, “I’m sorry if I frightened you.”
“She… just… killed them!” Michelle’s voice rose with each word as she pointed with a trembling finger to the burning girl, who had been staring vaguely out into the distance.
“What?” she blinked and came back to earth “Wazzgoinon?”
“You just killed three people!” shrieked Michelle
“Nah… They’ll be fine!” The burning girl smiled
“You shot them.”
“Asides from that they’ll be fine.” with a soft whoosh the burning girl extinguished, her hair returning to brown and her eyes taking on a less demonic shade.
“My bullets are special. In a couple of hours, those goons will wake up just fine. Asides from mild concussions and blinding headaches. And I might have kinda-sorta-maybe broken some of the guy with green hair’s fingers.” Michelle looked at her blankly
“You must have a different definition of ‘fine’ where you come from.”
“I no spreken da engleesh.”
“Ignore her” Sayen sighed “If you can argue with Liz then you’re probably fine. If you want we can escort you back to your home. You’ll be plenty safe there.”
“Uh, sure…” Michelle said unenthusiastically,
‘Like I could ever go back home and live a normal life after I saw someone get a knife stuck right through their chest. Literally stuck. And Miss burning wonder over there.’ she thought, glancing out from the corner of her eye at the girl called Liz. She was staring off into space again.
“I have a question though…”
“Of course, what is it?” Sayen asked kindly
“Just who the heck are you people?”
“We are proud members of the Feminae fortes clan.” Liz announced pompously “A group of proud warrior women that have banded together to protect humanity for centuries! We- ow ow ow Sayen that’s my foot”
“I’m Sayen Salazar, and this is Elisabeth Vague.” Sayen said, causally digging her high heeled boot into Liz’s high-tops.
“The pain… the pain!”
“I’m Michelle; it’s nice to meet you.” The girls shook hands while Liz dramatically complained about her foot.
“Thanks for saving me. From those guys and all.” Michelle said bashfully “How did you do it though? You weren’t even touching the ground! And I have no idea what she was doing either.” she gestured over to Liz,
“Hahaha, story of my life.” Sayen grinned “I am the daughter of the seven nations, born to lead my people to the Promised Land. That job stunk so I joined the Feminae fortes clan. Liz is the perfect example, not of how a clan member should act, but of how they should use their powers to protect others.”
“What are her powers?”
“Ya’ see this?” Liz happily head butted her way into the conversation and bust into flames again. Startled, Michelle shied away from the fire.
“Dun worry, it won’t hurt you” she smiled and the fire leaked from her eyes again, trailing down her arms and forming the duel pistols in her hands.
“These guns, my troll guns, are made out of bits of my soul, which is the fire you see right now. They fire little chips of my soul out at people, which pass through them and disrupt their soul, making them pass out. The soul chips then return to me like a boomerang, so my soul stays intact and doesn’t corrupt.” Liz walked over and pulled the drunkard, the one she had first shot, up by the hair.
“See?” She pointed to a small raised mark in the shape of an X. It was placed neatly between the drunk’s eyes and lighter then the rest of his skin. “That’s where my soul entered his head and knocked him out.” She contemplated the mark “A fine shot if I do say so myself.”
“Indeed.” Sayen nodded, then turned to Michelle. “We’ll escort you home now if you want.”
“Er, sure, I guess…” she sighed, looking away from Sayen’s intense one-eyed gaze.
“Unless…” Sayen smiled knowingly “You don’t want to?” Michelle’s head snapped up.
“What do you mean…?” she asked carefully.
“I ran away from home when I was sixteen.” Sayen shrugged casually, like it was no big deal, and continued “I lived rough for the first couple of days. Enough time to realize I needed a home.”
“And a shower” Muttered Liz
“And a shower.” Agreed Sayen, “If you want, you can come with us. And if it doesn’t work out you can return back home, no problem.” Michelle couldn’t believe her ears. Unless she had a hearing problem, these girls had just asked her to run away from home and come with them, two freaks of nature that she had met barely five minutes ago.
“You guys own a house?” She wondered
“Nah, we live in a group home with a few other people. The matron takes care of us all. Pays the bills and such” Liz said. She was kneeling down and poking the side of The Bear’s head with her pistols, obviously bored.
“So, you want me to come live in a group home with you. I don’t even know you guys!”
“It’s in Ireland~” Liz singsong-ed
“What?” Michelle pretended she didn’t hear
“The house is in Ireland. On a lovely piece of property too, all green rolling hills. They have stables and a nice little duck pond you can swim in during the summer. Lucky is in charge of the gardens, we have roses the size of your head! In all different colors too. The purple ones are my favorite.” Liz smiled, not the overly stretched maniacal grin of before, but a soft one.
“…” Michelle looked out from the alleyway towards the street. She had grown up in this town, and lived life better then most, but still, she couldn’t help but feel she was always meant for something more. Something more then just living the life her parents her wanted for her.
“Can I have a few minutes to pack?” Liz and Sayen both grinned.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY KALLIE~! *hugs* I couldn't finish the whole story in time, so it's going to be multi-part ^^ I hope you like it! *hugs again*
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Guns, guns, and more guns. (And me shooting said guns)
Wow, what happened to my fanfic blog? It seems to have turned into a blog about my life. *shrugs* Meh, whatever ^^ I'm be posting some stories soon. Very soon ;) And before you ask, I'm not telling ;3
So, the deal here is some of the Appleseed crew got together to shoot at long range. Out to 300 yds, or about 300 meters for you weird British folks ;P Me, my dad, my uncle Chuck, Dan, and James (who has an awesome accent) were there, and we had about... Er... 15 rifles between us? Something like that. We all rotated and took turns shooting each others rifles and putting them on the "Do want" list of things to buy ^^
Me shooting my uncle Chuck's M1 Garand, which is very much so on the "Do want" list. That thing kicked like a bloody mule :P Ignore the people talking in the background, they weren't in our group.
So, the deal here is some of the Appleseed crew got together to shoot at long range. Out to 300 yds, or about 300 meters for you weird British folks ;P Me, my dad, my uncle Chuck, Dan, and James (who has an awesome accent) were there, and we had about... Er... 15 rifles between us? Something like that. We all rotated and took turns shooting each others rifles and putting them on the "Do want" list of things to buy ^^
Me shooting my uncle Chuck's M1 Garand, which is very much so on the "Do want" list. That thing kicked like a bloody mule :P Ignore the people talking in the background, they weren't in our group.
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| My friend Todd's (he wasn't there because we wife is preggers.) AR with sweet eotech holographic sights. |
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| My dad's AR with tech sights and a GI web sling. And boots, which belong to me ^^ |
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| Yay! The Pink! :D Sooooo good to shoot her again (yes, my rifle is a girl, deal with it) |
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| My friend Dave's AR (with open sights) on the right and his M1 A on the left. The M1 A has a folding tripod on the front and open sights. |
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| My uncle Chuck's M1 Garand, with open sights and GI web sling |
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| James shooting his M1 A (I think) James is a FANTASTIC shot. He put's the bullets in the same hole every time. After a ten round string he'll have a single hole in the paper. |
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| Uncle Chuck and his M1 Garand |
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| Dave shooting his M1 A in the foreground and me shooting the AR in back. |
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| I love the Garand :3 |
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| My dad, with Dave hiding from the camera behind him, and Uncle Chuck setting up his gear. |
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| Uncle Chuck and Garand in foreground, Dave and M1 A in middle ground, and me and the AR in the background. |
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