Paved with Good Intentions
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Post by Paved with Good Intentions on Oct 14, 2009 4:48:15 GMT -8
Shade wasn't a problem here; it was given generously to the nobodies that didn't deserve to be seen and the stalking creatures that preyed on these poor souls whom life had forsaken. If there was a doubt in the world with this place, it was that the bottom-feeding plants ever got pure sunlight. Sure, they would get the essence of life after it had been filtered through a thousand times, cut in triplicate, and diluted til' only green would show, but they were always second best, second class - Dead last.
James' size-twelve mastodons of boots trod parallel to this forsaken foliage, his slender frame veiled in the two-worlds-weary leather coat that dragged along the forest floor hording all light that came in contact with it. Behind his sheet of crimson-tipped, abysmal black hair, set deep within a pure-as-the-driven-snow mask of flesh were two tourmaline eyes that seemed to be lit by the fires of hell that were stoked by the devil himself. These eyes were admiring the vines that circled up from the ground and wrapped the tree in a seemingly loving embrace, all the while sucking the life out of each of their partners. He could not help but give an unseen smile at this, even pausing for a second in reverence...
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Post by nevermore9 on Oct 14, 2009 4:49:41 GMT -8
((This thread was started by me; please don't delete it, admins =D))
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Post by Wednesday Coffin on Oct 14, 2009 15:18:34 GMT -8
Though the shades will hide the forsaken, the creepy young female shall always prevail in finding them! Wednesday, a creepy young female, is just the kind of person to make friends with anyone, even if they try to eat her. She leaped from tree to tree with her rag doll in hand. There was something about the guy that made her even more interested than usual, for she had never seen someone quite like him before. Wednesday naturally knew that she would be caught in the game of chase, but she preferred to have a little fun while it had lasted.
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Post by nevermore9 on Oct 14, 2009 15:48:12 GMT -8
There was something surreal about those verdant stranglers that arrested the boy in a way he was quite sure he liked to be - there wasn't anything in the world that tempted him more at the moment. Of course, as nothing is permenant, the moment passed into another and a new fascination came about. His head, however, didn't turn; not physically, for what he noticed was not something that could be touched or seen.
It was a rare commodity in places like this; the spark of insanity that re-lit the fires of passion without any need or want of purpose. Oh, it put a warmth in the heart and a chill in the spine - for James, it was a mental vintage from an ancient chateau the world never claimed. He wasn't able to tell whom it belonged to nor where it originated, but that did not stop him from breathing in the shear perfection that it was.
He decided that it would be best if he simply slumped down the side of the tree that he was admiring with a toss of his weight. His back collided with the bark in a splintering wonder, statuesque skin protected only by the thick embrace of the gigantic coat whose pockets rattled with the meeting of force. Every inch he moved down removed more vines so that his own may grow - soon enough, he reached the forest floor in the purpose of basking in the madness.
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Post by Wednesday Coffin on Oct 14, 2009 16:36:38 GMT -8
As perplexing and mysterious as the guy was, Wednesday could not keep away. When she saw him flop against the tree, she too stopped, but she was behind a tree. Shy? No, not her, but she was not about to disturb the fascinating one, so she waited and pondered. Bebe, the rag doll in hand, began to trash violently. "Excuse me madame," she squeaked, "But Bebe would like to know what the cat and mouse game stopped, and why Bebe is still in hand?" Wednesday replied, "Sh! Go forth and pester the other one," she pointed at the guy, "Alright?" Bebe wiggled out and plopped on the ground, but she had soon found her "bones" and ran towards the mystery.
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Post by nevermore9 on Oct 14, 2009 17:19:13 GMT -8
"Yep," James spoke, his usual voice of seductive and enigmatic weaves of sound lost for a more defeated, downcast penance to himself. "I've lost it." It was his admittance; everyone had always told him that his brain was gone and his mind was broken beyond repair - he denied it every time. Until now. That wobbling creature that was obviously made of fibers other than flesh and bone seemed like something from one of his more grotesque nightmares, but he was too sure this was reality; the taste of the other mind was still heavy on his palette.
And then he came to his senses - it suddenly seemed pointless that he was sitting there, letting that thing approach him. His eyes widened and his fists clenched as a push from below brought him to his feet. Just as the je ne sais quoi of the matter drew perpetually nearer, he brought his frame forward, tensing and ready to punt the thing a good distance. Akin to the pull of a revolver's hammer, his left leg drew back, ready to blow...
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Post by Wednesday Coffin on Oct 14, 2009 17:31:39 GMT -8
Bebe fell limp at the guy's very sight; she really wasn't up for being treated like a rag doll, and there was no pun intended. "Monster," screamed Wednesday as she ran for her doll; she slid feet forward, grabbing the trusted servant and she ended up a few feet next to the guy. Wednesday was nimble and when she was near him, she sprang up, and her feet were wide apart. There were cuts and scratches along the leg that was sliding on the ground, for she was wearing a skirt. Bebe remained limp in Wednesday's grasp as she glared at the guy.
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Post by nevermore9 on Oct 14, 2009 17:50:27 GMT -8
At the moment that the girl made a dive for the doll, James decided it was a good idea to stop his charge. This would not have been a problem if he wasn't already half-way through his kick, the results of which leaving him to spin out on one leg and then promptly fall on his ass with the grace of an ox hopping lily pads. When his body met ground, the moistened dirt was quite welcoming. The stick that was poised towards his upper back, however, was not having the best of days and decided it would send a shock wherever his nerves decided to take residence.
James was ready to scream all manner of profanities to the nimble girl who had so bravely just saved her abomination; he was ready to make her feel as low as the dirt she rested on. And then he got a look at her. Everything about her resembled something he had both seen before and would never have expected to lay his eyes on; it was her mind that he was detecting. When his lips parted to unleash the slur of downplays to her very existence, his safety net swept him up into a more polite mannerism.
"Me? A monster? That thing scared the shit out of me! Is..." he damned the day he couldn't judge a ragdoll's gender, "'it' yours?"
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Post by Wednesday Coffin on Oct 14, 2009 18:08:54 GMT -8
Wednesday screamed in anger, then she stamped her right foot on the ground and flexed her wrists with fist hands. There really wasn't a word to describe the way she glared and snarled at the guy, "My dear servant can't do anything to you! She's made of cloth, thread, various stuffing, and has button eyes. What in the hell is something like that going t do to you, tickle you? Is that so bad?!" Wednesday was tense, yet she seemed cool and collected underneath. Just then she seemed to change shapes right in front of him. Her eyes went from emerald the crimson, her teeth normal to sharp, her hair tame to wild and red, and her over all look was that of a wild animal ready to pounce, but there was a sense about her that made one think she was just expressing herself.
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Post by nevermore9 on Oct 14, 2009 18:25:16 GMT -8
There was something surreal about how the girl's words passed James' ears in contradiction to the way her mind graced his; it was like a dancer veiled in white wrappings upon a snowy stage, the audience seeing only a blizzard at first sight while there was an undeniable truth that could be found with but a squint that would normally go unaccomplished. He wasn't so much hearing what she was saying as interpreting the message she was trying to carry.
"Wait, wait," James mediated from his post above the decomposing scraps that the sylvan giant shed unto the dirt. "You're going to sit there and yell and scream and bear your...fangs? We'll call 'em fangs for now - anyways, you'll flash them at me and tell me that that little thing is completely harmless. What a joke - whose dream am I in?" The way he said this wasn't meant to be revealing of his power, rather to see if this was, indeed, the mind of someone much deeper than any other he had invaded. No one else could reproduce such a convincing masquerade even when awake, let alone unconscious...still, the supernatural countenance of this lady had him questioning the very gravity that held him down.
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Post by Wednesday Coffin on Oct 26, 2009 18:46:18 GMT -8
Wednesday slapped herself in the face, and the best way to describe it is thus: her hand covered a fourth of her face, her elbow parallel to the earth, and her other hand on her hip. "He isn't even listening," she thought as she turned around and walked away. As she traveled Bebe attached to her calf as quickly as she could. Then the strangeness occurred; the trees were rapidly growing after her, the animals were running with her too keep up, and over all, the light seemed to leave as she left.
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Post by nevermore9 on Oct 26, 2009 19:06:49 GMT -8
James had managed to get wrapped up in his mediation of whether reality could be called by its name to the point where he didn't even hear the footfalls of the girl as she walked away. His head, at the time, was studying the shape sky to see if there was any inconsistency akin to that of a clairvoyant voyage. He did note that there was a visible and gradual darkening - it was good enough for him to look back at the girl to give her a snarl and a myriad of transposed images that would take life in a dream-land environment. Well, needless to say, she wasn't there when he looked back - not in his face, anyways.
As she walked away, he noticed she was gathering quite a precession of nature. It was too surreal, and yet, he knew somewhere that this wasn't a dream, not remotely. Just to be safe, the first step he took to trace her path was careful, ginger, leaving not but a temporary depression in the grass. After that, he matched her own pace, still very weary of false sandpits opening beneath his feet to swallow him whole. He had never been digested before, but he didn't guess it would be an enjoyable experience.
"Hey!" his voice, oddly enough, did not echo in the trees as one would expect it to - instead, it was rejected and quickly faded into nothing but an intention. He tried again, this time with a little more success. "You, girl! What the hell is happening?"
It became quite clear that James was now utterly freaked out, the only consolatory sooth to his rapidly increasing heartbeat remaining the oh-so-inviting labyrinth that the mere surface of the girl's mind provided for him. His walk made a gradual move to a light jog, and then a run that literally caused the grass to be torn up at the roots by the sweeping of his coat, every conscious effort being made to not get his feet caught up in the protruding root systems.
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Post by Wednesday Coffin on Dec 7, 2009 17:58:44 GMT -8
The forest was whispering to James: "Shut up! What do you care? There is no way out. Fallow me if you want to live. Apologize, if you will. Beware!" Meanwhile, Wednesday was angrily unaware of what was happening, for the magic around her was strong and Doom was soon to reappear. Doom was the name of her dear little brother; he was on his way for a visit.
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Post by nevermore9 on Jan 18, 2010 7:16:29 GMT -8
On any normal day, James would have easily been able to cope with all this; get that flood of information that was coming at him with tidal-wave force, tear it apart, and sort it where it belonged. Well, there was a problem with this; James doesn't have 'normal' days. In fact, he was pretty sure not having his feet firmly planted in reality while walking in beautiful sylvan landscape that wanted to turn him into a finger food following girls who spout Arnold quotes was about as normal as it got for him.
"Alright, alright, I'm sorry. I was afraid - I'm not used to this kind of thing!" James was quite used to this kind of thing. The fatigue of the run was beginning to well up in his gut, wrenching it and biting it and slashing it until agony was more a part of his life than every hard-fought breath. Still, when a tree looked at him the wrong way, he just felt the need not to stop running - besides, it's not like he could say 'What are you looking at...uh...tree!'.
Even if James had another option of survival in this dreaded contortion of would have been a pleasant walk in the woods, he probably wouldn't have taken it. Even if he was not aware through each spike of torrential pain that accompanied another pull forward in the grabbing earth, his interest had been roused and there was nothing that could bring it down. Well, except if a tree did end up eating him.
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Post by Wednesday Coffin on Mar 22, 2010 15:47:40 GMT -8
Wednesday had not heard his plea of an apology and continued to storm out of the forest, and the more she boiled and bubbled, the more intense, cold, horrifying, and deadly it became. Spiders emerged from the trees, scorpions crawled from the roots, and snakes slithered from the branches. Even though the colours of the poisonous animals are usually vibrant, the colour spectrum seemed to be nothing but a grey scale. Hisses, clicking, and snapping limbs echoed the area, and Wednesday was still unaware. When she emerged from the forest, she was greeted by a comfortable temperature the rain that couldn't have fallen the the thick forest. Then she decided to turn around, just to make sure that she was alone and found an issue. "Mademoiselle," exclaimed Bebe, "Bebe thinks that you have done that bad thing you used to do again." Wednesday carefully plucked her doll off her calf and stared at her, "Is it really such a bad thing to cause doom and gloom?" Bebe pondered the thought, "No...but Bebe thinks you might have hurt Mouse-Man."
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Post by nevermore9 on Apr 2, 2010 19:55:54 GMT -8
The canopy no longer lent a single sovereign light as a saving grace in the closing maw of forest; every gnarled, annelid-encrusted branch of the arboreal horror appeared as just another gnashing fang in this devouring beast. If he listened close enough, James could hear what could be none other than the breath of the forest, which transcended his own prominent respiration and heartbeat with ease. This was a machine with a pulse, a pulse with a thirst for blood, and a thirst for blood with a viable source. He could no longer run, no longer stride in strife for the vanishing image of the girl whose mind he could so easily reach if he only could control his own.
And there he stopped. The dead center between two twisting sylvan aberrations. One breath. The furnace of his eyes flickered, wavering with willing submission to fate. Steadfast footwork failed, sending him stumbling sideward, his strafe bringing him into open arms of the left tree, the back of his coat forming millions of minuscule slits as it slid down the razor-esque bark of the fiendish frame. Two breaths. Vines intertwined themselves with the pale one, delving deep into his myriad coat pockets, ringing his fingers and neck, suspending his arms, encompassing his chest, writhing in his boots, twitching as every hellishly tangible throb of his over-exerted heart attempted to fight them off. The grisly warmth of the what could only be the salivation of the monster danced to his trachea, caressing it in anticipation of the next breath in hopes that it may be his last. And indeed on the third breath, he had no more in him. The creeping creatures of this noire nightmare made their way across his body until more tree and insect was visible than James, wrapped in his own warped madness delirium.
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