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Re: .:A Lesson On Perspective:. [P]

Postby MillietheWarrior » 01/14/2015 7:46 PM

Ice could see the uncertainty in her eyes; she truly wasn't sure about why she had returned to him. He himself couldn't fathom a reason. Perhaps she held some deep-seated, morbid curiosity about him, or about the dark, shadow filled dungeons. He watched her, his eyes steady from the back of the cell, and like before, the ice seemed to glow, illuminating the both of them in the mist and vapor that hung in the room and creating an unearthly, still light. Her question surprised him, but it did not show on his face, which regarded her impassively. It was a valid question, he decided, and one he didn't know the answer to just yet.

It was too soon to tell; but he remembered, clear as crystal, the hundreds of years since his imprisonment and the tears he shed on that dark cold night in repentance for his past mistakes. Of those, he had made many, and he knew they were beyond count and beyond forgiveness. If he could not even forgive himself, how could he expect anyone else to? And so he had thought that perhaps, if only for a time, he had locked away that part of himself in a darker, shadowed place in his mind, and when she'd come to him the first time, he would not kill her. But then the desire to do so, to make someone suffer simply because they did not know his darkness, was roused in him.

And it gnawed at him like a creeping hunger in his belly. But in the time that he had sat in silence and though, the pebble smooth in his hands, warm despite the cold, he had decided that he could ignore that hunger, that he could let the beast sleep for a time, if only to discover this new innocence and light that came so willingly into his darkness. So he thought a long while on her question, and he finally answered her. “Yes,” he said at last, his voice calm and clear. “And no. I want to hurt you because of what you are; I can see your light, and I want to destroy it. But that same light is what keeps me from harming you, because it is innocent and precious, and so very rare in a world of darkness. I have long lived in the shadows – so long that I had forgotten what the day looked like. But I think I see it now, again, in you and in your eyes, and I do not want that gone. Perhaps I am selfish, and perhaps you think me cruel and dangerous; you would be right, on both counts. This is no place for you and yet...”

He trailed off. And yet what? And yet, he wanted to keep her here? And yet, he wished he could speak to her a little longer? And yet what? “I do not know what folly has brought you back here, but I am...glad of it, I think. The silence is a welcome companion, but it does not know how to hold a good conversation.” His eyes seemed to warm, just the slightest, and though it was surely nothing, it was almost something. “Tell me...what is your name, girl, and why would you want to linger here, with me?”

I love adventurous tales like that. That uplifting feeling that comes from seeing unknown lands and the knowledge that you came across—nothing can replace it! It opens a path from which self-confidence, experience, and important friendships—from the sharing of life or death situations—are born! But hearing it just isn’t the same. I want to create my own magnificent story!



A great adventure!


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Re: .:A Lesson On Perspective:. [P]

Postby Flame » 01/14/2015 10:41 PM

Wren’s skin prickled and she had to fight the urge to turn and look behind her at the overwhelming sensation that she was being watched from somewhere in the shadows. What a stupid worry to have – of course she was being watched by anything and everything here in this shadowy pit. She stood out like a beacon against the blackness, the only thing that didn’t fit in in this cold prison. She shook the feeling off, or at least pushed it to the back of her mind. For now, it was the least of her concerns.

The stranger seemed just as unsure of how to answer as she had been about asking the question. She could see the thoughts in his eyes as he regarded her, as if still deciding for himself what his response would be. Wren felt a little more comfortable in his presence now than she had been earlier – at least he wasn’t looking at her as if she were merely a prey item any more, although a hint of that still lingered in his gaze. It seemed much more heavily offset by a different sentiment now: curiosity. That was one emotion she was both comfortable and quite familiar with.

The tension in her body seemed to slowly trickle away as the pale, white-haired man spoke, his words apparently giving her some modicum of comfort. True, he did say that part of him still wished her harm, but the rest of what he had to say clearly showed that he was a creature capable of reason, a fact which assuaged her fears considerably. It wasn’t as if there was a single living being that didn’t have their own fair share of desires unwarranted (and punishable) by society’s guidelines. It was just that most normal people kept those thoughts to themselves, held those discussions in the privacy of their own minds, away from the prying eyes and ears of the public, but who was she to judge him for having that dialogue out loud? If anything, the insight it gave her to his thought process was almost comforting, the man who was otherwise as easy to read as a solid wall of ice.

By the time his words had dwindled off, his tone had become all but conversational in nature, and Wren found herself less on-edge. It seemed that her hunch might have been right all along after all – this man wasn’t all bad in the way he’d wanted her to believe at first. He honestly did seem rather glad of her presence here, she could see it in his eyes, even if the emotion looked somewhat alien on his face (and she was sure he felt that way towards it too). However, she found herself more than happy to accommodate him, glad that he favored her companionship more than shunned it.

“I’m Serenity,” she replied in a voice reminiscent of wind chimes in a summer breeze. A simple enough titbit of information, but the largest step she’d taken thus far to forming some kind of human connection with this mysterious captive. She thought on his second question for a moment before continuing. “This certainly isn’t the most comfortable or aesthetic place in this complex, but…it’s different.” Her words were slow, as if she were speaking her thoughts out loud as they came to her. “I wanted to know what this place was built for, why these people and creatures are here, hidden away from the light...Plus, you seemed lonely.” The open and honest truth, spoken out of nothing but good will and innocence.
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Re: .:A Lesson On Perspective:. [P]

Postby MillietheWarrior » 01/15/2015 6:59 AM

His eyes followed her every movement, watching as she spoke in the quiet shadows. The pillar crumbled immediately after the stone was removed, tinkling across the floor like little crystal shards. Still, his eyes did not leave her, riveted on her form and seemingly waiting for something to happen. He leaned further into the shadows, back against the wall, and his shackles clanked like a reminder of his past, and he glanced down at them, breaking eye contact with her for a moment and lifting his arm. The silver steel winked in the blue light of his ice, and he turned his wrist over as he observed the shackle as though it was something new, before he let his hand drop at his side.

“Serenity,” he repeated, the name slow and uncertain on his tongue. In his world, names held a sort of sacred power, and they were important and an embodiment of all that you were. Serenity fit her, he decided. He did not offer his own name, because he did not think his was worth anything. He had once been 'Howl,' but that man had long since been lost to the darkness. Now he was only 'Ice,' and that name was everything he was and all he would ever be, but still he did not give it to her freely. She would need to ask of her own accord.

“Different is a matter of perspective, Serenity,” Ice said at last, lifting his gaze to her once more. “You say it is different, and I say it is dangerous.” Finally he stood, unfolding his long legs and rising to his feet. Like all his people, he was tall, and as he approached the bars, he was aware of how small she was compared to him, and how easily breakable. She was a good foot or more smaller than he was, and she was like a child. He wondered at that, wondered at how old she was; she was an adult in her world, but in his, she was no more than a newborn seeing the world for the first time. He had lived for centuries, and she had probably lived only one life of man because despite her youth, he could see there was age in her eyes.

“I have been lonely for a long time, Serenity. But there is nothing that can change that because it is a loneliness of the soul. And I do not long for company.” But perhaps he did, perhaps he was lying to himself. Maybe he did want company, and whatever friendship she offered him. His eyes flickered to the cell opposite him, where he felt a hunger straining for release, and he drew closer to the bars, one hand lifted as if to grip them, though his shackles kept him from doing so. They tightened painfully at his skin, the pale whiteness of it raw and red and dried with blood that was old. He didn't mind, and he paid them no heed, even as his eyes dropped back down to Serenity.

“This place...This is a prison, and those who are within it's walls deserve to be here. We are creatures of shadow, and we have no love or right to the light of the world. What we have done in our lives has put us here, and our imprisonment is just and deserved.” He paused a beat, as if considering his next words carefully. “As all those within these walls, I too deserve my place here, a thousand times over. Does that not concern you?”

I love adventurous tales like that. That uplifting feeling that comes from seeing unknown lands and the knowledge that you came across—nothing can replace it! It opens a path from which self-confidence, experience, and important friendships—from the sharing of life or death situations—are born! But hearing it just isn’t the same. I want to create my own magnificent story!



A great adventure!


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Re: .:A Lesson On Perspective:. [P]

Postby Flame » 01/15/2015 6:45 PM

The sound of her name rolling off of his tongue seemed a foreign one. Never had she heard herself addressed by a voice so gruff as his (although that was partly due to lack of use). It seemed as if he were tasting the word, deciding whether or not it was suitable, then, seeming satisfied, continued his train of thought. Again with the danger and the not belonging thread – Wren really shouldn’t have been surprised that he brought it up again. While on one hand, it seemed as if he wanted her here to have someone to talk to, and yet all he ever said was how she shouldn’t be here. She could almost feel the conflict in his mind as he regarded her, his words telling her to leave and his pride keeping him from asking her to stay.

His next words were just as contradictory as his last – Wren decided that it was just another sign of his rationality, the humanity she saw in him trying to keep her out of danger’s clutches. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe that it was because he cared for her personally in any manner – he’d made that abundantly clear – to him, she was a stranger in this dark world, one who clearly did not belong, and despite whatever dark urges he harbored in his own mind, he wanted to ensure that no harm came to another being.

Wren shook her head lightly when she heard what he had to say. “Of all of the things you’ve said to me thus far, that is one thing that I do not believe to be true.” She had no doubt that all he said before about danger and her not belonging here stemmed from some reality, but to not desire the companion of another soul? She didn’t believe it for one moment. “It is perhaps the most basic of living needs, even beyond food and drink. Every creature desires and needs the companionship of others to survive, even if it is but a single other soul. Only sociopaths and the truly insane do not require it, and while you may be quick to judgment and somewhat trigger-happy, you don’t strike me as either sociopathic or insane.” Wren’s words were extremely matter-of-fact, as if she were confident in both the truths she spoke as well as her characterization of his psyche. “True, I haven’t known you for long, let alone even your name, but I don’t see evil in you.”

It may have been naiveté speaking, but her words were honest. “What is your name, by the way? I’ve given you mine, and it would only be fair for you to give yours as well. If not, you’ll have to settle for being called Iceman until you do.” There was a breath of humor in her voice as she regarded the stranger, although it dimmed some as her gaze fell upon the chains and shackles which held him. He was a prisoner indeed, of that there could be no doubt. “It was others who judged you and placed you here, and perhaps they had their reasons, but I’m entitled to make my own judgment as well without the presence of their bias. Sometimes, what people truly need is a blank slate and a chance to redeem themselves. If true repentance exists, don’t you think that all people deserve a second chance?”
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Re: .:A Lesson On Perspective:. [P]

Postby MillietheWarrior » 01/15/2015 11:22 PM

Ice raised one pale brow, and the ghost of what could have been a smile fluttered across his face like a fleeing shadow. It was gone in the next moment, but to the untrained eye, it would almost appear as if he were amused. And perhaps he was; she was different than many of the others he had met in his lifetime. She reminded him of his sister, of Caroline, and their innocence in life. But when he thought of them, he saw cold, unblinking eyes, blood on the ground and on his hands, and he had to blink hard to erase the specters of his past that hovered just behind his eyes. Something in him was hanging by a thread, and he feared that if he let his past creep up on him, it might snap, and this girl, this naive young woman, would pay the price.

So as much as she reminded, he could not bear to let himself see anything in her eyes, and he turned to look at the ground. “I do not think you know my mind better than I do, Serenity. You do not know why I am here, or what I have done. You cannot say I am neither, and I cannot deny that I am not. It is often those we least expect that turn out to be the worst monsters.” He thought again of Caroline, of her innocent smile before her eyes glinted green and her face turned wicked and his hands were bound by snakes. He knew it hadn't been her now, but he still could not reconcile that image with the sweet woman he had known. She had turned into a demon, and he had become a beast and was no better than she.

“A long time ago, I had a name,” he told her at last, his hand lifting and little glowing crystals of ice hovering just in the palm; the magic that bound him kept him from using his full power, and he was reduced to simple tricks, like creating that pillar of ice, or having it glow, or this, the floating crystals. They produced an eerie light that illuminated him brightly, revealing more of his scarred body and the markings on his skin. “But I do not anymore. They have called me Ice for a very long time, longer than I care to remember. My true name...That person is dead now.” One corner of his mouth ticked up in a sardonic grin, the expression making him appear more feral than amused, and he finally lifted his eyes, briefly, to hers.

“I do not deserve a second chance because I am still learning how to repent. And even if I was given that chance, this cell is my home and my tomb. I will never leave it, and I have made my peace with that. It should not concern you.” The ice in his hands seemed to shimmer, and then melt into a pool, which then solidified and took the form of a small bird. He held it close to the bars, held it for her to take, and frowned in silence. “I am not like you, little bird," he said to her. "I will never be free.”

I love adventurous tales like that. That uplifting feeling that comes from seeing unknown lands and the knowledge that you came across—nothing can replace it! It opens a path from which self-confidence, experience, and important friendships—from the sharing of life or death situations—are born! But hearing it just isn’t the same. I want to create my own magnificent story!



A great adventure!


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Re: .:A Lesson On Perspective:. [P]

Postby Flame » 01/16/2015 8:07 PM

Wren’s eyes were thoughtful as she regarded the stranger. There was much of him that she didn’t know – much more than she could even begin to imagine. She was painfully aware of that fact, but was that really a fair excuse to avoid him? Knew that if he had his way, she would be somewhere far away with no recollection of ever having seen, let alone met him. However, she was a firm believer in the fact that rumors alone were no reason to not get to know a person. After all, too many people in the world were too quick to jump to conclusions (perhaps even this man himself), and she, for one, thought people deserved a better chance than merely judging a book by its cover.

“Perhaps I do not,” she replied matter-of-factly, her head cocked lightly to one side as she weighed him with her gaze. “But I’m giving you the chance to make that impression upon me for yourself instead of me choosing one for you based on nothing but hearsay.” She nodded conclusively, as if that alone settled the matter. Not one as easy to get rid of Ice might have thought initially. She might have been naïve and innocent, but she always chose to believe in and see the best of the world and its inhabitants. “Plus, you look nothing like the monsters of which I’ve read.”

Her eyes watched, mesmerized as glowing ice crystals formed above the stranger’s hand, hovering weightlessly in the air as they shone a brilliant blue. Wren knew that there was magic in the world; a world of endless possibility where nothing was impossible, but reading about it and seeing it for herself were two entirely different things, and simple as the trick might have been, it still captivated her. “Ice,” she murmured, reconciling name with person. So she hadn’t been so off the mark after all…but apparently, that wasn’t his “true” name. She frowned lightly at the idea. Why would anyone want to discard their own name? Did a name really hold that much meaning or power?

She figured it was likely better not to ask though, as it seemed like a painful subject for Ice, and as she was just beginning to get to know him, the last thing she wanted was to turn him against her. Her thoughts ran through her mind like flowing rapids as she tried to slow them enough to catch a few in their tracks. “So…which one of you was the one who was imprisoned here?” She hoped the question made sense – she was having a hard enough time trying to grasp the situation herself. How could a person be dead…but yet still alive, not to mention aware of their own “death”? It was all a little much to take in, but she did her best to keep up.

“But there is no reason to live without hope.” Maybe he thought he was trapped here forever, but if he truly believed that there was no chance of escape or a second chance, then he wouldn’t still be alive. “Even if it is hope where there is none, it provides light even in the darkest of nights. Perhaps you should try it.” She watched as the ice crystals melted, then re-formed into the shape of a small bird. A small smile touched her lips as she reached out to delicately pluck the figurine from the proffered hand, cradling it gently in her fingertips. “Nevertheless, even if you’re in there and I’m out here, the only thing that stands between us are these metal bars. Even if your body can’t be free, who says that your mind has to be imprisoned as well?”
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Re: .:A Lesson On Perspective:. [P]

Postby MillietheWarrior » 01/21/2015 8:43 PM

Ice let the barest hint of a smile tug at the corners of his lips; her naivete was plain foolish, but still refreshing. He had not met anyone like her since he was very young. “Not all monsters are frightening at first glance,” he chided, lowers his lids so his lashes his the glow of his eyes. They were as snow white as his hair, and looked like snowflakes against the paleness of his cheeks. “I'm afraid I'm not very well versed at making impressions...not good ones, at least.”

He stood stiffly away from the bars, unable to go any further, but growing tired of standing. He wanted to lean against them, move closer, rest for a moment because as refreshing as she was, she tired him. It had been a long time since anyone had been civil to him and expected the same in return, and it took a lot of self control to keep himself from succumbing to the darker thoughts that lie just below the surface. Deciding it was better to sit, he stepped back slightly and folded his legs beneath him, watching her warily from the ice shrouded cell. “If you must know,” he replied to her question, choosing his words very carefully. “Both of us are here. I have made my bed, and now I must lie in it, and I have made my peace with that. I have long since grown accustomed to my cell; it does not bother me so much anymore.”

He'd made his peace with living and dying here, staying in this small cell for the rest of his days, and he was fine with that. At least in here, he couldn't hurt anyone anymore. His eyes drifted to the small bird, cradled in fragile, pale-skinned hands, and he frowned, shaking his head. “If you don't have any reason to live, then you have no reason to hope. I do not hope to escape or be free, because I accept what I am and my punishment for it. I have no use for hope in a place like this.” He reached out one hand, his fingertips a foot from the bars and unable to go much further.

“These bars are nothing, really. There is more that keeps me here, magic you cannot see or understand, but that is very old and powerful. My mind is as much a prisoner as my body, because there is nothing outside these walls that it longs for, so it has no reason to dream.” His eyes seemed to shimmer in the dark as he looked up at her from beneath white lashes. “Do you speak these words from experience, little bird?”

I love adventurous tales like that. That uplifting feeling that comes from seeing unknown lands and the knowledge that you came across—nothing can replace it! It opens a path from which self-confidence, experience, and important friendships—from the sharing of life or death situations—are born! But hearing it just isn’t the same. I want to create my own magnificent story!



A great adventure!


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Re: .:A Lesson On Perspective:. [P]

Postby Flame » 01/21/2015 10:11 PM

Wren looked thoughtful as she considered Ice’s words. It was certainly a different perspective to consider, and she was always looking for new angles to take on life. After all, even she had to admit that her own life could be somewhat…one-dimensional at times. As little strife as there was in her world, it did get a bit dull at times. “True…but by that logic, wouldn’t you conclude that not all frightening people are monsters as well?” Her head tipped lightly to one side as she asked the question, curious about his take on the turn-around. “Also, following your train of thought, wouldn’t it be equally possible that I’m really a monster myself? I could be, and you’d never know.” The idea seemed to amuse her; she wondered what it was like to be a monster, but all the monsters of her imagination were dragons and trolls and other creatures of fairytales, not the kind of which Ice spoke.

“Both are here”? Wren frowned lightly, perplexed by the meaning of the words. How could one person be two people at the same time? He seemed like one person and no more to her, and she said as much. “But…how could you be two people? I couldn’t imagine having two people living in my head at the same time, and you certainly do not speak like two separate people.” She suddenly seemed to realize that what she was saying might come across as rather rude. “I’m sorry, but I’m just trying to understand what it’s like to be in your position.” Of course, there was no possible way for her to actually know what it was like to be him, considering all of his memories and experiences in the past beyond her comprehension, but she sincerely meant to try. The more she understood him, perhaps the more she could help him.

His next statement was no less confusing for Wren, whose mind again raced to keep up. She chose her words carefully, speaking slowly as if puzzling it out as she went. “I believe that you do have a reason to live and a reason to hope.” Her brow was furrowed as she thought it through. “If you truly had no reason to live, then why would you still be alive? No offense or anything – I for one am glad that you’re alive,” she added quickly again, seeming sheepish, but her questions and concerns were genuine ones. From what she’d heard, having a will to live played a very crucial role in life and death, and there were many recorded incidents (or so she read) where a lack of will to live caused premature death even in spite of being in good health. It was another one of those things which perplexed her.

The stranger’s powers must have been extremely powerful indeed. Wren had never really come across anyone else like him, or with powers like his, so she hadn’t thought that perhaps there was more to his abilities than what she’d been shown. She hadn’t felt them either, but that was likely due to a combination of her lack of experience with sensing other peoples’ powers and the magical barrier which stood between them. She seemed almost hesitant to answer his question though. “Maybe…I don’t really know. You see, I’ve never left this building before in my life myself – uncle always said it was too dangerous out in the “real world” for someone like me, even though he sends my brother out there more often than not. Generally, what uncle says goes around here.” She shrugged lightly, almost dismissively, as if it were a fact of life which she’d long ago accepted. “And so my mind and my imagination are my freedom.”
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Re: .:A Lesson On Perspective:. [P]

Postby MillietheWarrior » 01/28/2015 3:52 AM

Ice almost shook his head at her naivete. It was refreshing, he supposed, but refreshing was going to get her killed one day. How long had she been behind these walls, he wondered. How long had she been so sheltered from the world? Did she even know what was out there? He supposed not; here she was, trying to make nice with a mass murderer. Granted, a somewhat reformed one, but still. A faint twitch of his lips was the only indication he gave of his amusement. “I suppose. But you don't strike me as a monster. I do not think you even know what a monster is. But they are easy enough to spot; you can always tell-” His eyes flashed a pale blue in the darkness, and the smile lifted the corners of his lips, but it was no longer full of amusement. “-by looking into someone's eyes. They are the truest window to the soul.”

And hers were bright and full of life and innocence; he saw it there, and it stirred something in him. Whether it was the beast or some long forgotten part of himself, he didn't know. Sighing quietly, he watched his breath frost in the air, the icy shards of air curling in front of him and disappearing as they merged with the mist in the cell. “It is better that you do not understand my position, I should think. I am not keen on sharing my mind with you, so you should be content and leave it at that.” His tone brooked no arguments, sharper and colder than even the day she had first stumbled into the darkness. At her declaration at being glad of his life, Ice actually laughed. It was raw and scratchy and the sound seemed foreign in the dark place, but she startled him so very much with those simple words that he hadn't been able to hold in the laugh in time.

It echoed down the hall, and the scurryings and scratchings of the prisoners ceased immediately for one, quiet moment. “My, you are entertaining. You truly know nothing of the world.” His eyes did not gleam like a predators this time when he looked at her, but sparkled like that of a young man who was observing something beautiful and rare. “I can tell that you have never left. Your words and eyes betray you, little bird.” He leaned back against the cell wall, and the glow from the ice seemed to intensify briefly as he watched her, almost eager to see her better. “As amusing as I find this, I think you should go. Perhaps you have stayed here long enough? Someone might come looking for you.”

I love adventurous tales like that. That uplifting feeling that comes from seeing unknown lands and the knowledge that you came across—nothing can replace it! It opens a path from which self-confidence, experience, and important friendships—from the sharing of life or death situations—are born! But hearing it just isn’t the same. I want to create my own magnificent story!



A great adventure!


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Re: .:A Lesson On Perspective:. [P]

Postby Flame » 02/09/2015 4:35 PM

Wren wanted to argue, but she knew that her words would be brushed aside again, so she held her tongue, although with some effort. Perhaps she’d never actually seen a monster with her own two eyes, but that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t recognize one if she did, right? After all, all of the tales that she heard made it quite clear that monsters were easily picked out, although that too was shaded in a shadow of doubt – things weren’t quite as black and white as she’d once thought they were, especially when it came to “good” and “bad”. At his words, she seemed to peer harder into his glowing, ice blue eyes; ones which one other than her might have found unsettling in their piercing hardness. To her though, she saw nothing more than a man who wanted her to believe that he was not to be trusted, but she didn’t believe that he was actually evil for a single moment.

“I see no monster in your eyes,” she said simply, as if her words settled the matter. “And I’m inclined and choose to believe my instincts until you actually do something to prove me wrong, which I highly doubt you will.” This conversation had turned unintentionally into something of a mind game. If he wanted her to distrust him so badly, he would have to hurt her first to make her believe him. However, she didn’t think he would find it in himself to do so, even if he wanted her to hate him. He wouldn’t go that far. In that, she found her satisfaction. She didn’t even pause to wonder what she might do if he did decide to harm her – the thought simply never crossed her mind. A small smile of teasing triumph touched her lips, her sapphire eyes sparkling with amusement as they held his.

Of course, knowing Ice (or at least, to the small degree which she did), she should have known that it wouldn’t be long before her naiveté was brought up again. It was true, she’d never seen outside of these stone walls, but she didn’t think that she was really all that naïve. She’d read many books in her time here (although she never paused to think that perhaps Loki chose what was and wasn’t allowed in his own library), and she liked to think that it at least gave her some perspective on the outside world. However, his request for her to leave did somewhat catch her by surprise, although she refused to acknowledge the fact that it hurt her a little on the inside that he didn’t want her company. Her gaze dropped down to the little ice sculpture in her hands, her fingers delicately brushing against the tiny crystal wings. “I don’t think anyone will miss me,” she murmured quietly, her eyes still on her hands, as if she didn’t want to make eye contact with the man behind the bars. “But if you’d like me to go, I won’t bother you any longer.”

In the dark recesses of the dungeon, something shifted, and as it did, the inhabitants of the cells nearest to it seemed to shy away, as if in fear. The sweet aroma of warm, fresh blood and the vibrant aura of energy which surrounded the trespasser was enough to rouse the slumbering shadow, even through the layers upon layers of powerful magic which imbued the walls of its cell, keeping it at bay.

“Such sweet, sweet innocence…You can taste the tender virtue melting from her flesh too."

A soft, whispered voice echoed faintly through the cold, stone chambers, almost too quiet to be heard, yet every word was easily understood. It was as silky smooth as a snake’s skin and just as sly, yet seemed to ring with undeniable truth.

“Don’t deny your true nature – I can see my desires in your eyes. I know you just want to sink your teeth into that sweet, succulent soul…to make her your own. Why deny a gift which is given so freely?”
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Re: .:A Lesson On Perspective:. [P]

Postby MillietheWarrior » 02/27/2015 1:01 AM

Ice rolled his head backwards, the faintest of smiles tugging at his blue lips. This girl was a breath of fresh air in a stale cell filled with shadows. But despite himself, and his own warnings, he found that she intrigued him, in more ways than one. The desire to hurt her, to end her was there, but it was tempered greatly by the new desire to protect the innocence he saw there, because he knew the world would snuff it out as surely as he himself could. But he didn't think he wanted to see that; he didn't think he could let that happen. But still...she shouldn't be here. She truly had no idea of what lurked in the darkness.

And when Ice opened his mouth to tell her that it was best that she left, he was cut off by the sound of another voice, a hiss and a slither in the darkness that chilled his bones and turned his heart cold. His eyes narrowed, the glow on his ice instantly disappearing and leaving the cell cast in the faintest of lights from far-off, flickering torches. His hands clenched at his side, the little shards of ice he'd been holding shattering across the floor and tinkling like tiny bells. Ice reached through the bars, so quickly his hand was almost a blur, and latched onto Serenity's wrist. It was a reflexive action, but when he pressed his face near to the cell door, the mist of his ice surrounded them closer, and his eyes were full of anger and...fear?

“Now, Serenity,” he said urgently. “You must leave now. And do not ever come back here. This place is not save. Please.” He quietly added, hoping he could implore her: “Please. For me. Whatever you think I am, whatever you want of me, please do not return.” But still...the voice, whatever was in it, made that hidden part of him rear it's ugly head, wondering why not? Why not make her his own? What color was her blood, he wondered. What would her face look like, frozen with terror? Those eyes wide and glassy? But no, he couldn't. He shook his head vehemently, his fingers tightening to a painful level around her wrist. “Go,” he forced out through gritted teeth. “And do. Not. Come. Back.”

I love adventurous tales like that. That uplifting feeling that comes from seeing unknown lands and the knowledge that you came across—nothing can replace it! It opens a path from which self-confidence, experience, and important friendships—from the sharing of life or death situations—are born! But hearing it just isn’t the same. I want to create my own magnificent story!



A great adventure!


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Re: .:A Lesson On Perspective:. [P]

Postby Flame » 02/27/2015 3:48 PM

The cold, unforgiving atmosphere of the dungeon seemed to embrace the soft, sinuous voice which was both silky yet unfeeling as ice. The very air itself seemed to quiver with a mixture of fear and anticipation, the silence which seemed to have filled the stone prison now even more profound in the presence of that barely audible whisper. Wren heard it, and even if the words slid by her without much grasp, the very nature of its tone made her feel as if her very bones were shivering. She could almost feel the voice, as if it had tangible tendrils which snuck around her limbs, wrapping her small body in a cold, unyielding embrace. It felt as if those fingers reached in and touched her very soul, and an ice-cold trickle that had nothing to do with the temperature around her ran down her spine. Startled and for once a little alarmed, Wren glanced into the shadows behind her which shrouded the source of the sound, crystal eyes seeking its owner as her hands gripped the woolen blanket tighter around her small frame as if it could keep any danger at bay.

Suddenly, a vice-like grip wrapped itself around her wrist like an iron shackle and she jumped, part of her trying futilely to pull herself away from whatever had caught her, but its hold was as unyielding as stone. Alarmed and convinced that the owner of the voice had run out of patience and come to take her, she looked around wildly, her gaze following the hand around her wrist to fall upon Ice. She breathed a soft sigh of relief (which seemed ironic, given the numerous warnings he’d given her about his nature), but she soon saw that everything was perhaps not alright. If the voice had had an effect upon her, it seemed to have an even greater and more profound effect upon her companion. The look which he now gave her was different from any other she’d seen before, and for the first time, she didn’t feel entirely safe in his presence.

His next words were meant to strike fear into her heart – she could feel it, and for once, they carried some weight due to the sheer gravity of the sincerity which he put into them. The fact that this supposed hardened criminal feared what it was that lay beyond the shadows was enough to instill some of that same fear into her mind, but still, the part of her that wanted to be brave and wanted to be kind to this lost soul battled it and she wavered where she stood, torn between running and staying. It was pain that brought her back to herself – the hand around her small wrist had tightened enough to cut her circulation short, and her fingers were now almost the same shade as his snowy skin. She knew now that there was no sense in arguing with him, not when he was in this state. There was something strange…something alien in those eyes that stared back at her that she didn’t recognize, and for once, she had to concede that her stubbornness would find no ground here.

“Fine,” she finally said, although it took her a moment to find her voice in a throat tightened with anxiousness. “I will go, if that’s what you wish, but I won’t make a promise that I can’t keep.” Even in the face of fear, she tried to keep her resolve, and in her defense, her voice only wavered slightly as she spoke. Her hand gripped the little bird made from ice, as if she found comfort in it in the twilight of the cells. It was the first time she’d felt fear in her life, and she wanted to be strong in the face of adversity. “Take this though, so I can at least feel that I have helped in some small way.” With her free hand, she reached up to remove the blanket from around her shoulders, shivering slightly as the cold air hit her skin. She extended it through the bars towards Ice, her expression clearly saying that she refused to take “no” for an answer. “If you don’t take it, I swear I will stand here until you do, and there’s nothing that you can do about it.”

"The weak are meat and the strong do eat..."
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Re: .:A Lesson On Perspective:. [P]

Postby MillietheWarrior » 12/25/2016 6:59 AM

Something in her words. The quiet entreaty, the selflessness. he wasn't sure what it is. But whatever it was, it made his body move without thinking. He gazed at her with the eyes of someone who seemed to be seeing for the first time, confusion knitting his brow. His fingers loosened their grip on her wrist, though he did not let go. he watched her teeth chatter, her lips pale and blue like his skin. And then he was reaching through the bars, gently drawing his fingers around the blanket. The voice in the darkness, its hunger and violence, was briefly forgotten. he tugged the blanket, pulling on it until he could force her closer to the bars. And then he was leaning against them, and taking the blanket, and his lips were near hers, but didn't quite touch. he would never dare such a thing.

But the part of him, deep down, that could still feel urged him to close that small gap. He watched her, his eyes glowing in the darkness of the gloomy dungeon. And then there was a shift in the night, the screech of chains on the cold, stone floor, and the spell was broken. ice jerked back almost painfully, the blanket tearing from her grip as he took it with him. His fingers left her wrist, and he noted, something in his expression hardening, the bruises he'd left on her pale skin. He felt foolish, holding the blanket in one pale, blue hand, watching her with a guarded expression through the bars, wondering quietly what was wrong with him.

"Go," he said again. "I am...I am sorry, Serenity." He turned away, the blanket clutched in his hand; it wouldn't do anything to warm him. Nothing could thaw what he was, nothing could keep him war anymore, but the gesture...it was nice. He felt he should appreciate it, but it only made his heart wrench angrily, and then sadly. He lowered his gaze as he turned away, facing the wall, the blanket hanging limply at his side as he shut Serenity out once and for all. For the briefest of moments, he realized he might miss her, then shoved that aside as a worthless feeling. "Thank you," he said into the darkness, but he did not meet her gaze. "And goodbye."


Last bumped by MillietheWarrior on 12/25/2016 6:59 AM.

I love adventurous tales like that. That uplifting feeling that comes from seeing unknown lands and the knowledge that you came across—nothing can replace it! It opens a path from which self-confidence, experience, and important friendships—from the sharing of life or death situations—are born! But hearing it just isn’t the same. I want to create my own magnificent story!



A great adventure!


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