Post by B-Radimus Prime on Jul 4, 2006 23:56:31 GMT -5
Xx Sister Blister xX
A delicately crafted picture frame, entwined by golden thread is held in shaky hands. The frame slightly slips down the unknown person‘s hands as anxiety settles in his palms. Transparent glass covers a picture, detained within the frame of an apparent past memory. The picture is of two young children that couldn‘t be any older than four or five. A young girl with medium-lengthed jetblack hair has a huge, cheesy smile on her face. She‘s dressed in a short sleeved blue shirt and purple overalls. Her young, scrawny arm is draped around a boy which resembles her slightly, except he bares a slight oriental trait. His black hair is cut short and his smile is as cheesy as the young girl‘s. They share a resemblance to one another that only siblings could.
A clear droplet of sorrow cascades onto the glass that covers the picture and splatters over the young girl‘s face, blurring the image slightly. The grieving bead drips down the tilted frame and onto the floor where it finally disintegrates. The man is shown at his entirety with dark apparel covering his masculine, yet slender body. A black beanie with a red circle, centered with a red x is draped over his head. His eyes are large ovals of darkness, pools of deception and orbs of honesty. His skin is a soft mocha color, smoother than silk and softer than any delicate touch. His lips are plump and fleshy tissues of cruelty and desire. He is well-known to so many, but remains a mystery in their minds.
His form is trapped, almost smothered in the old, wooden walls of what appears to be an attic. Boxes take up the majority of space and there are so many cobwebs that threaten to take the position as taking up the most space.
Another tear falls from his eyes like rain onto the picture.
”How young we were back in those cheerful days, how innocent we were, and how very naive. What were we? Three, maybe four years old? You know, before everything got so hectic and utterly confusing.”
The man brings his sleeved arm up as his hand gently swipes across his face, destroying a few more tears that have escaped from his eyes.
”I cry very often, too often probably. So often that I‘ve grown dependant on the seemingly endless times of dropping to the floor and breaking down in the most anonymous of moments. Crying all night and through the day sometimes, like the pathetic little bitch that I am. But don‘t flatter yourself. I have never once shed a tear for you and I probably never will. I cry for the past that was so immaculate to the two of us. I cry for everything that could have been between the two of us. The bond we were supposed to share, but never truly had the chance to. The minor and major disputes that we were supposed to have with one another, only to realize how much we truly cared about eachother and make up and forgive and move on. I cry for the sister I have and the sister I will never have. I cry because it was never supposed to be like this between us. We weren‘t supposed to be separated. We weren‘t supposed to grow up with our bond severed so early in life. We weren‘t supposed to develop animosity and envy toward eachother. And Damnit, it wasn‘t our fault. But we‘re much too stubborn to realize that when our eyes make contact. We‘d rather have someone to blame for this mess. I blame you and you blame me. That‘s how it has always been and it will forever be that way.”
The man drops the picture frame into an old box, full of old Polaroids and papers; dust springs up out of the box as the frame lands inside the box. He looks over to a box beside that one and forces it open with a few strong pulls. He glances inside and rummages with his hands, searching for something in particular. Finding what he was searching for, he pulls out a slightly worn magazine and begins to scan through the pages. He stops at a page which has a very familiar dark-haired woman on two separate pages. On one, the woman is cuddled around a group of eggs with a frenzied expression plastered on her attractive face. The other, she is fiercely ripping a beautiful Blonde woman to shreds. The name “Meg“ is printed at the top of both pages in bold lettering.
”I highly doubt you know this, or that you even care, but I‘ve watched you ever since you became what you are. I‘ve seen you start off on a rocky start, not too entirely sure of who you wanted to be until a proposal, a chance of a life time had been crushed for you. Was one man really reason enough to leave such a tarnishing scar? Was it really necessary? Or perhaps it was just some form of attention you were seeking because that is exactly what you got. You got the attention of a beautiful blonde woman that you concluded would be an easy target. You threatened her and harassed her just to take out your anger and covetousness out on someone you assumed to be weaker than you. But what did it get you, huh? One pathetic loss after another? A fall through a glass table? Less attention to you and more to her? I supposed your plan backfired, somewhat.
Was that what you started you on talking to eggs? Were you really that disappointed in yourself, that frantic that you‘d stoop to the ‘crazy‘ side of things to demand your attention? Now, I have to admit, I‘ve done some strange things, maybe more strange than talking to eggs, but come on…it was just weird. You did nothing but humiliate yourself, but you are quite great at that.”
The man puts the magazine back into the box before retrieving another item. This time it is another old Polaroid photo of a nearly decrepit woman, her skin sags with age, in a hospital bed, tubes hooked in almost any place possible. The woman looks so distraught and unhappy. A slight smile forms over the man‘s face as he examines the photo carefully.
”Then I watched as you struggled through the untimely suffering of Grandmother. You really had surprised me on this one. I knew, or at least, I thought I knew how much you really loved that woman. After all, you owe her everything you have and you know it. But as your true-life dilemma unfolded in front of the eyes of so many, I knew that this was merely a way, yet again, for you to bring attention to yourself. To suck the pity dry from anyone and everyone who would listen to your heart wrenching stories. You exploited your Grandmother‘s death to reach higher levels for yourself. How dare you. How dare you visit her every day to put your stressful weights on her shoulder while she was battling a disease. How dare you even act like you gave a damn about the woman that gave you a home when you weren‘t wanted anymore. How dare you even mention her at all. Once you got tired of her and didn‘t need her anymore, once you decided that there was another way to embezzle attention from others, you did the unthinkable. You‘re so ungrateful. You‘re so completely disgusting…Have you not already engulfed yourself in enough pity?!”
The man slowly places that photo back into the box and turns to exit the small room, a single tear escaping his swollen eyes. He makes his way down a flight of loudly creaking stairs and then through a doorway. He is now in the entry way of a small house where a couple of coats hang to the side on a rack and matching pairs of shoes sit next to one another in rows to the side of the front door which is directly in front of the man as he approaches it. To the right of the front door is another rack, yet smaller than the one that holds coats. It has various amounts of keys dangling from it and he grabs a set then walks out of the door and the house completely.
He walks down two concrete steps and to a small driveway, occupied by a shiny, black sports car. He unlocks the door of the car with his keys, then settles into the comfortable leather seats. Sliding the keys into the ignition, he starts up the car and drives away from the small house. His radio starts up as a woman with a beautiful, but strangely bland voice fills the space with sound.
“You and me we're cut from the same cloth
it seems to some we famously get along
but you and me are strangers to each other
‘cause you and me: competitive to the bone
such tragedy to trample on each other with how much we've endured
with the state this land is in
you and me estranged from the mother
you and me have felt impotent in our skin
you and me have taken it out on each other
you and me disloyal to the feminine
such a pity to disavow each other with how far we've come
with how strong we've been
you and me are on this pendulum together
you and me with scarcity still fueling
you and me have made it harder for the other
we forget how hard separatism has been
you and me we can help change their minds together
you and me in alignment until the end“
The man stops his car after a prolonged drive and steps out after shutting it off. He stands in the parking lot beyond a large building, surrounded by a very tall barbed-wire fence. A sign in the front of the building reads “County Jail“.
”And now here I am all because of you, all because of your stupidity. Have you seen yourself lately? Whoring your way through numerous guys, including your boss. No wonder you‘ve been getting everything you asked for lately. You really sunk to a new low this time. You‘ve turned yourself into an easy, sickening, wretched slut just to get your way? But, oh, it didn‘t end there. You even turned to drugs?! What the hell has happened to you? You‘re just like every other moronic, bland I‘m-so-extreme-drug-addict dumbass in this pathetic world. Don‘t waste yourself for this ****. Don‘t destroy all that you could possibly be, all that you are, to be like everybody else. Damnit, I don’t think you can do this on your own. Seeing you lately, I know you can‘t. So, this is why I‘m here. To bail your ass out of the predicament you‘ve brought yourself into and to beat some sense back into your…slightly demented mind. You need me no matter how much you‘ll deny it. You need my guidance and correction, you need someone to keep you from turning back into the mundane atrocity you were becoming so very quickly. So, Megan…Big sister…here I am to pick your undeserving little ass up and rectify you‘re unpardonable mistakes. Big sis, your little brother, Morgan, is here to save you. But don‘t think this means I care even a little bit about you…”
The man, with dark attire, begins to slowly stroll away from his sports car and up to the County Jail to make the inexplicable bail for his desperate older sister, Meg.
OOC: This was basically an RP to sort of introduce my character in a way. By the way, it was like a Prologue to Meg's RP "Unwanted Bail" So, what did everyone think?
Edit: Lyrics are from Alanis Morissette's "Sister Blister"
A delicately crafted picture frame, entwined by golden thread is held in shaky hands. The frame slightly slips down the unknown person‘s hands as anxiety settles in his palms. Transparent glass covers a picture, detained within the frame of an apparent past memory. The picture is of two young children that couldn‘t be any older than four or five. A young girl with medium-lengthed jetblack hair has a huge, cheesy smile on her face. She‘s dressed in a short sleeved blue shirt and purple overalls. Her young, scrawny arm is draped around a boy which resembles her slightly, except he bares a slight oriental trait. His black hair is cut short and his smile is as cheesy as the young girl‘s. They share a resemblance to one another that only siblings could.
A clear droplet of sorrow cascades onto the glass that covers the picture and splatters over the young girl‘s face, blurring the image slightly. The grieving bead drips down the tilted frame and onto the floor where it finally disintegrates. The man is shown at his entirety with dark apparel covering his masculine, yet slender body. A black beanie with a red circle, centered with a red x is draped over his head. His eyes are large ovals of darkness, pools of deception and orbs of honesty. His skin is a soft mocha color, smoother than silk and softer than any delicate touch. His lips are plump and fleshy tissues of cruelty and desire. He is well-known to so many, but remains a mystery in their minds.
His form is trapped, almost smothered in the old, wooden walls of what appears to be an attic. Boxes take up the majority of space and there are so many cobwebs that threaten to take the position as taking up the most space.
Another tear falls from his eyes like rain onto the picture.
”How young we were back in those cheerful days, how innocent we were, and how very naive. What were we? Three, maybe four years old? You know, before everything got so hectic and utterly confusing.”
The man brings his sleeved arm up as his hand gently swipes across his face, destroying a few more tears that have escaped from his eyes.
”I cry very often, too often probably. So often that I‘ve grown dependant on the seemingly endless times of dropping to the floor and breaking down in the most anonymous of moments. Crying all night and through the day sometimes, like the pathetic little bitch that I am. But don‘t flatter yourself. I have never once shed a tear for you and I probably never will. I cry for the past that was so immaculate to the two of us. I cry for everything that could have been between the two of us. The bond we were supposed to share, but never truly had the chance to. The minor and major disputes that we were supposed to have with one another, only to realize how much we truly cared about eachother and make up and forgive and move on. I cry for the sister I have and the sister I will never have. I cry because it was never supposed to be like this between us. We weren‘t supposed to be separated. We weren‘t supposed to grow up with our bond severed so early in life. We weren‘t supposed to develop animosity and envy toward eachother. And Damnit, it wasn‘t our fault. But we‘re much too stubborn to realize that when our eyes make contact. We‘d rather have someone to blame for this mess. I blame you and you blame me. That‘s how it has always been and it will forever be that way.”
The man drops the picture frame into an old box, full of old Polaroids and papers; dust springs up out of the box as the frame lands inside the box. He looks over to a box beside that one and forces it open with a few strong pulls. He glances inside and rummages with his hands, searching for something in particular. Finding what he was searching for, he pulls out a slightly worn magazine and begins to scan through the pages. He stops at a page which has a very familiar dark-haired woman on two separate pages. On one, the woman is cuddled around a group of eggs with a frenzied expression plastered on her attractive face. The other, she is fiercely ripping a beautiful Blonde woman to shreds. The name “Meg“ is printed at the top of both pages in bold lettering.
”I highly doubt you know this, or that you even care, but I‘ve watched you ever since you became what you are. I‘ve seen you start off on a rocky start, not too entirely sure of who you wanted to be until a proposal, a chance of a life time had been crushed for you. Was one man really reason enough to leave such a tarnishing scar? Was it really necessary? Or perhaps it was just some form of attention you were seeking because that is exactly what you got. You got the attention of a beautiful blonde woman that you concluded would be an easy target. You threatened her and harassed her just to take out your anger and covetousness out on someone you assumed to be weaker than you. But what did it get you, huh? One pathetic loss after another? A fall through a glass table? Less attention to you and more to her? I supposed your plan backfired, somewhat.
Was that what you started you on talking to eggs? Were you really that disappointed in yourself, that frantic that you‘d stoop to the ‘crazy‘ side of things to demand your attention? Now, I have to admit, I‘ve done some strange things, maybe more strange than talking to eggs, but come on…it was just weird. You did nothing but humiliate yourself, but you are quite great at that.”
The man puts the magazine back into the box before retrieving another item. This time it is another old Polaroid photo of a nearly decrepit woman, her skin sags with age, in a hospital bed, tubes hooked in almost any place possible. The woman looks so distraught and unhappy. A slight smile forms over the man‘s face as he examines the photo carefully.
”Then I watched as you struggled through the untimely suffering of Grandmother. You really had surprised me on this one. I knew, or at least, I thought I knew how much you really loved that woman. After all, you owe her everything you have and you know it. But as your true-life dilemma unfolded in front of the eyes of so many, I knew that this was merely a way, yet again, for you to bring attention to yourself. To suck the pity dry from anyone and everyone who would listen to your heart wrenching stories. You exploited your Grandmother‘s death to reach higher levels for yourself. How dare you. How dare you visit her every day to put your stressful weights on her shoulder while she was battling a disease. How dare you even act like you gave a damn about the woman that gave you a home when you weren‘t wanted anymore. How dare you even mention her at all. Once you got tired of her and didn‘t need her anymore, once you decided that there was another way to embezzle attention from others, you did the unthinkable. You‘re so ungrateful. You‘re so completely disgusting…Have you not already engulfed yourself in enough pity?!”
The man slowly places that photo back into the box and turns to exit the small room, a single tear escaping his swollen eyes. He makes his way down a flight of loudly creaking stairs and then through a doorway. He is now in the entry way of a small house where a couple of coats hang to the side on a rack and matching pairs of shoes sit next to one another in rows to the side of the front door which is directly in front of the man as he approaches it. To the right of the front door is another rack, yet smaller than the one that holds coats. It has various amounts of keys dangling from it and he grabs a set then walks out of the door and the house completely.
He walks down two concrete steps and to a small driveway, occupied by a shiny, black sports car. He unlocks the door of the car with his keys, then settles into the comfortable leather seats. Sliding the keys into the ignition, he starts up the car and drives away from the small house. His radio starts up as a woman with a beautiful, but strangely bland voice fills the space with sound.
“You and me we're cut from the same cloth
it seems to some we famously get along
but you and me are strangers to each other
‘cause you and me: competitive to the bone
such tragedy to trample on each other with how much we've endured
with the state this land is in
you and me estranged from the mother
you and me have felt impotent in our skin
you and me have taken it out on each other
you and me disloyal to the feminine
such a pity to disavow each other with how far we've come
with how strong we've been
you and me are on this pendulum together
you and me with scarcity still fueling
you and me have made it harder for the other
we forget how hard separatism has been
you and me we can help change their minds together
you and me in alignment until the end“
The man stops his car after a prolonged drive and steps out after shutting it off. He stands in the parking lot beyond a large building, surrounded by a very tall barbed-wire fence. A sign in the front of the building reads “County Jail“.
”And now here I am all because of you, all because of your stupidity. Have you seen yourself lately? Whoring your way through numerous guys, including your boss. No wonder you‘ve been getting everything you asked for lately. You really sunk to a new low this time. You‘ve turned yourself into an easy, sickening, wretched slut just to get your way? But, oh, it didn‘t end there. You even turned to drugs?! What the hell has happened to you? You‘re just like every other moronic, bland I‘m-so-extreme-drug-addict dumbass in this pathetic world. Don‘t waste yourself for this ****. Don‘t destroy all that you could possibly be, all that you are, to be like everybody else. Damnit, I don’t think you can do this on your own. Seeing you lately, I know you can‘t. So, this is why I‘m here. To bail your ass out of the predicament you‘ve brought yourself into and to beat some sense back into your…slightly demented mind. You need me no matter how much you‘ll deny it. You need my guidance and correction, you need someone to keep you from turning back into the mundane atrocity you were becoming so very quickly. So, Megan…Big sister…here I am to pick your undeserving little ass up and rectify you‘re unpardonable mistakes. Big sis, your little brother, Morgan, is here to save you. But don‘t think this means I care even a little bit about you…”
The man, with dark attire, begins to slowly stroll away from his sports car and up to the County Jail to make the inexplicable bail for his desperate older sister, Meg.
OOC: This was basically an RP to sort of introduce my character in a way. By the way, it was like a Prologue to Meg's RP "Unwanted Bail" So, what did everyone think?
Edit: Lyrics are from Alanis Morissette's "Sister Blister"
;D
