The carriage brings them to the man's villa and once inside, he wastes no time in giving her a tour. The last room they get to is at the end of the west hallway, far away from the main portion of the house. The man stops, and turns to look at Paramin- who is still clutching the blanket, holding it up her face. The man snorts, almost in disbelief, and places his hand on the door. "Do you see this room? What do you suppose you are never allowed to do?"
"Go in there." her voice was quiet, and she looked down at the ground as she responded to him for the first time.
"Ah, so you do speak." He seemed slightly amused, but remained firm as he looked at her. "Good. Now-- are you hungry?"
A head shake came as his reply, and the man snorted. "Surly you must be. . ."
story 3 bullet notes - meeting Inga
- learning Eisen
-M.D coming in everyonce in a while to ask her about her studies and only her studies
- at 12 he approaches her with a book about gifts/gods/secrets in other cultures and begins to ask about
Nobility in other cultures, what she thinks about the book, ect.
-at 14, he comes in one night and takes her to his room, where he moves a book shelf and a secret
passage opens
- inga seems shocked, but says nothing.
- halfway down the tunnel, MD hands both of them dark robes and hoods that he has picked up off of a hook that hung on the wall
- the enter a room that has about 15 other people for it, and a man who has been bound, chained and gagged
- people seeing paramin, being suprised
-being told
- being asked to judge
-desintigratin
-MD being hit with the substance, and aging quickly
-moment of awe for paramin
-them having to leave because of the betrayal.
cont.
In a villa just off of the main road, one servant ran down the hall, her bare feet slapping against the cold floor. Her mind raced, and upon reaching the door in the middle of the hallway past the courtyard, she opened it and shut it tightly against her. Rushing to the bed in the room, she pulled the blankets down, finding momentarily relief when she found the child still in bed. Shaking the child's shoulder gently, the servant kept looking at the door, knowing it wouldn't be long until. . .
Paramin
Wealthy Aegean (Greecian) family, Father: politically and socially active, prominant member of the city. Mother: one of the more well known women in the city, is looked upon as a strong figure.
As with any well off family, her parents are quite absent in her life, as both of very socially active and wanting the best for her, she was left in the care of her servant and her tutors. She developed a natural curiosity about people and observation, and fell in love with research and her studies.
When she was 8, her home town was sacked by a barbaric tribe from the north- most of it burnt to the ground. During the sack, her servant helped her escape before the men came, but upon escaping was killed. Paramin managed to escape and hide- waiting out the rest of the raid.
The next morning when Paramin crawled out of her hiding spot, she could see survivors already rebuilding the city- it had not taken as much damage as she had thought over night.
A man walked up to her, and took her in- telling her that her parents were either now enslaved, or dead. He owed it to them, to take her in. Telling her blanky that he was not going to be her father- as "that was your fathers job, albiet he didn't do a very good job" and he was not going to be her mother, he brought her back to her abondon house, telling her to bring only the essentials.
She ends up grabbing a small trunk of items, including a old book belonging to her father and a blanket made for her by her mother. It doesn't leave her clutches, and as she walks back out to meet the man, he looks at her strangely, almost dissaprovingly at the cloth. Paramin continues to say nothing, but gets herself settled into the carrige that is waiting.
The night air was cool, quiet and the breeze tickled the blades of grass, causing ripples in the large fields. The only sounds that could be heard were crickets and other small animals in their routines, the occasional neigh of a horse, and far off in the distance what could only be described as murmured voices, mixing together in undistinctible pattern providing a soft ambience to the over all atmoshphere.
I'm sure that this this has already been done, but I'd like to create a site where people can upload their wishes, almost like post secret, but I want to do something a bit more hopeful. I know that this would be a site where I wouldn't want a search bar or anything, simply an archive where one could go and scroll through the wishes. Site would also be completely anonomyous, and people can either just send an email/photoshop/anything or mail something in.
Story about a fairy.... garden maybe? Large person. For shoulder perch? Any ways.. page eith toggable divs you can click to reveal pictures and sounds and stuff.
Let's see. . . . . . . .
story of our choosing or a fable. . . . xxxx"steampunk era story where the main character is trying to raise a dragon"
Lead character: male dragon egg; pet dragon; about the growing up rather than the after; baby stages of the dragon. Conflict?
-- get moving on Paramin's character
-- who is her mentor and what is his relationship to her
-- what is driving her really?
-- don't make her too emotionless, just make her somber
-- figure out the world and environment
-- magic vs alchemy;; why is she so convinced that the ‘magic’ of alchemy is really just a science
-- what is she afraid of?
"Mommy?" Her right hand was on the door handle, turning the knob, and pulling it open slowly as her left hand reached up the the light switch, just about ready to push it down. Looking back to the bed, her young daughter was sitting up, the yellow blanket pulled up over her nose so she was peering over the blanket. "Can you tell me another story?"
Smiling gently the mother left the door open and walked back over to the bed, reaching out to pet her daughers hair before sitting in the rocking chair. "What kind of story?"
The daugher giggled before thowing the blanket down and rolled over to the side of the bed where she leaned over, her short arms flailing as she attempted to reach for a large, leather bound book. After a few moments of stretching and grunting she finally reached the object, pulling it up with her as she flailed and finally flopped back onto her bed, "this one!"
"This one? Are you sure?"
Nodding eagerly, the daughter crawled back under the blankets and watched with wide eyes as her mother opened the book, gently turning the pages in order to find just the right story. She cleared her throat and began to read
About halfway through the book, the little girl began to nodd off, her eyes closing and head drooping. Trying hard to stay awake, she kept shaking her head and moving around in the bed, messing up the blankets. Her eyes began to water from her constant yawning. . .
Two weeks. Two weeks of heavy rain, drenching the earth and clouding the skies. Even the plants had enough, refusing to soak up any more; and the ground was turning into mud. Mud that was thicker than any ever before, deep enough for even the deer to get stuck. Everything felt as bogged down as the leaves felt under the pressure of the rain and was as foul as the mud.
"Move it!" the crack of a whip echoed through the rain, an oxen braying as he struggled to pull the heavy load through the thick mud, their hooves slipping against the little stone that was visible on the now flooded road. &qotWe've got to get this &lsquoere food back ta&rsquo camp!"
One of the men in behind the cart pushing it groaned. "At this rate, by the time we get the food back, it'll be ruined!"
"What if we just run it back then?"
"Are you out of your mind?!"
"Well it's better than trying to move this cart!" One of the other men, also pushing the cart, threw up his hands; causing mud to fly everywhere. Suddenly, the sky lit up and the crack of lightening made a deafening sound. The three men looked at one another; not one of them daring to speak. The same thing was on all of their minds, once the lightening stuck- it was only moments before those monsters appeared. Quickly they each grabbed a pile of food and ran off; praying that their legs would be fast enough to carry them home safely.
Rain, hitting the roofs of tents, making plink plink plink noises against the wagons, pails, canvas-- anything that would make noise. The occasional rustling of cloth or metal could be heard, as people moved about in the own tents, however it was the only break of the steady beat of water. Dim mage lights glowed, placed strategically among the large camp provided some comfort against the gloom, but it didn't seem like enough to push past and call the sun out. Inside one of these tents, if you peered inside- you could see a figure sitting in a chair, feet propped up on a rather large stacks of books, a blanket draped over the legs. The light in this tent was bright, just one medium sized one that hovered in the air just above and off to the side where the chair was placed. There was the scratching of a quill on parchment, and the flipping of pages; the only sounds other than the rain. Every once and a while, the scratching would stop and an audible sigh was heard from the figure sitting in the chair.
The reality of the situation was looking even more bleak by the day- with…
I sit here anxiously, fingers drumming, foot tapping. My stomach is churning, not butterflies, but angry waves- slamming against my body. I feel naseous. Why? I don't know. I feel like I'm going to burst. My heart rate rises, and I can feel my palms clam up. Something needs to release, break, stop; I need a breath of fresh air. It's too much.
Time: one persons decisions with her time travel, secrets, decisions and the conclusion to keep it all to herself.
Regret; lonliness. It was all he had known.L since that day; how could one voice be so infectous; so warm; so filled with passion and conviction that all he wanted to do was listen to it. Even the words were food: filling his being with feelings he couldn't place. The owner lived hundreds of miles away from him…
Mmmkay, so this is is kinda cliche, but here we go. So, princess. in a tower. waits and waits and waits and what do you know, waits some more. Prince never shows up, I mean the nerve of some poeple. Gets herself out, goes to the nearest kingdom. Becomes awesome. Not really shrek like-- because that focuses on Shrek and not really Fiona and she ends up not being as awesome as they set her up to be. Diary standpoint, yesyes. Thinking about different monsters to fight, roads, journey, area...
Sarabeth:: It's been four turns of the moon since the accident. My father says that with time comes healing, naturally him and my brother share the same… patient… views on the world. I disagree, sometimes you can't get over things that have physically changed you. I'm trying to keep well behavied as is proper for someone of my satus, but it's hard. I can't help but feel jealousy and anger when I see others flying. Father has been chicking on me once a day, but tends to leave me alone other than that. I'm not sure if it's because he wants to leave me to my own devices or if he is possibly ashamed of me. I wouldn't exactly blame him, after all; I am broken and could be considered a shame to my family. We are a proud people, not elitest like both the sea people and the earth walkers seem to think we are, for if we can not fly, we are nothing.
I. . . have become nothing.
I have a thing with being anonymous. Its hidden, safe, and free from persecution; with loosing our anonmity we're loosing bits of ourselves becuase we aren't free, there is so much going on with internet idenity, and the idea of trolls and how everything has to be so politically correct that if we say something that offends someone else it's uber taboo. Every time we are forced to take some form of side or risk being alienated by our peers. With the rise of things like social networking, and facebook in general- people feel that attatching their real names to the internet not only clues people in to who they are, but will somehow make others view them differently because of that. Sometimes names can give off gender, ethnicity or other clues that may automatcially cause someone to view a person differently.