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#21
08-09-2011, 10:22 PM
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*I LOOOOOVE your character Kiwara!*
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"Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. And then, one not-so-very special day, I went to my typewriter, I sat down, and I wrote our story. A story about a time, a story about a place, a story about the people. But above all things, a story about love. A love that will live forever. The End." ~Moulin Rouge R.C. + H.M. + D.R. Forever!!!! The game.
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#22
08-09-2011, 11:04 PM
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*Why, thank you! I like her too... She'll be sort of a new one.... All cold and stuffs. No warmth in her soul. Haha*
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I was safe in my pure insanity. ~ The Utterly Perfect Murder by Ray Bradbury: August 22nd, 1920- June 5th, 2012 We lie best when we lie to ourselves. ~ It; Stephen King.
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#24
08-10-2011, 03:10 PM
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I think Tia should start!
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"Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. And then, one not-so-very special day, I went to my typewriter, I sat down, and I wrote our story. A story about a time, a story about a place, a story about the people. But above all things, a story about love. A love that will live forever. The End." ~Moulin Rouge R.C. + H.M. + D.R. Forever!!!! The game.
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#25
08-10-2011, 03:50 PM
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Yes she should!
__________________
You only live forever in the lights you make When we were young we used to say That you only hear the music when your hearts begin to break Now we are the kids from yesterday
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#27
08-10-2011, 06:43 PM
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I think we're in agreement that you should start!
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I was safe in my pure insanity. ~ The Utterly Perfect Murder by Ray Bradbury: August 22nd, 1920- June 5th, 2012 We lie best when we lie to ourselves. ~ It; Stephen King.
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#28
08-10-2011, 06:52 PM
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Yes yes we are
__________________
You only live forever in the lights you make When we were young we used to say That you only hear the music when your hearts begin to break Now we are the kids from yesterday
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#29
08-10-2011, 07:06 PM
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*Alright, then. Here we go!
 *Jarid shuffled along the wall, hoping whoever was in the alley hadn't heard his rustling. He held his gun in a shooting position, it's barrel loaded with bullets. His breathing was heavy, though he made no sound. He wasn't afraid. He had done this hundreds of times before. He waited patiently. When they begin to move again. he thought to himself, listening intently. There was silence. He shifted his gun to hold it at the ready. He inhaled deeply and heard the faint sound of paper against gravel, right under someone's foot. He pounced from behind the corner and shot, missing the person by a mere four inches. The little boy Jarid shot at squealed and fell to the ground, huddling against the wall and shivering in fear. Jarid approached the boy. He held his hands up defensively, begging Jarid, "Please, sir! I, I'm just a boy! I mean no harm!" Jarid grabbed him by the arm and harshly asked, "Are you with The Breaking?" The boy looked confused. "The what?" Jarid asked again, but with much more ferocity. "ARE YOU IN THE BREAKING?!?" "NO, SIR! I'm not!" the boy shrieked. He looked away, his eyes tightly closed, afraid of Jarid's next move. Jarid hoisted the boy up, dragged him down the alley by the arm, and pushed him onto the sidewalk. "Go to Warehouse 23 on Water Street," Jarid ordered the boy, pointing at him with his gun. "Tell the guy there that Jarid sent you. Tell him the password, too." Jarid threw a crumpled piece of paper at the boy, which he guessed contained the password. "They'll provide you with a handgun and information. Then, get out. No one will want you after that. You'll be on your own. No one here is going to help you. That's our code. You live by it, or you die by it." Jarid stared down the boy, who was frozen in fear. "SCRAM!" Jarid shouted. The boy scrambled to his feet and retreated down the boulevard. Jarid snickered and vanished into the darkness.
__________________
"What were you doing under our windows, boy?" "Listening to the news." "Listening to the news! Again?" "Well, it changes every day, you see."
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#30
08-10-2011, 09:51 PM
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*Wow tia, nice beginning.*
"Day 8," Coin whispered to himself. "Day 8." He had been there for a week and a day. Most of them had ignored him, but a few were kind enough to speak. He didn't blame any of them. They had their own things to worry about. He looked down once more at his rag-like clothes. They were covered in mud and were ripped in numerous spots. He gripped his dagger, Ridges. The name was a joke and a fact. Sharp edges jutted out from the center of the bronze blade, one side pointing up, one pointing down. The hilt itself must have been worth thousands. Its emerald light bounced off the walls of the cramped, dark room he had been given. Then there was the pommel. A perfectly round onyx gemstone. Coin's Ridges. He had been given cold, stale fries for dinner, a pathetic excuse for a meal. It sat in the corner, untouched. Finally, after many minutes of contemplating, he decided to throw it out. In the few days he had been there he had lost all sense of time. There were no clocks and they were rarely allowed outside. He also had no idea where they were. He had been blindfolded and handcuffed, then led into where he was now. He had guessed they were underground from the hot air and dirt walls held up only by a system of poles and wooden beams. He had also guessed there were at least fifty people living here, too much for just one underground base. He sat down on his makeshift "bed" and closed his eyes. Because in the morning, there was much work to be done. It was time to start what had been coming for several years.
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