[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 500px; text-align: center; font-family: arial; letter-spacing: -2px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px black; color: white; font-size: 22pt;]do you hear the people sing?
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 490px; height: auto; font: normal 8pt verdana; text-align: justify; margin-top: -15px; line-height: 13px]she was in a predicament, to put it nicely. it was a pretty well known and accepted fact the deimos, and the atreides in general were kind of wacked, i'm assuming. their parents screwed them up good, and the combination of mortal and godly blood in their veins is just a recipe for disaster. this atreides was particularly messed up - it wasn't talked about much outside the family, but she had panic attacks sometimes, among other things.
the panther in question lay in a ball in a dark, dirty room somewhere in eden's castle. the room itself was circular, and had no windows. the door was firmly locked and for good measure a wooden chest had been shoved in front of it. though she may not look like it at first glance, she was wide awake. her crystalline blue eyes were unnaturally bright and seemed to gleam with some internal fire. for now, she appeared fine, on outside at least. who knew what was going on on the inside. sometimes, even she didn't know. deimos took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to get as much of the freezing autumn air into her lungs as possible. the shocking cold would or should calm her. of course it didn't work. with an enraged huff, she sat up, and conjured a cigarette from thin air. holding it between her jaws, she lit it with a single thought, and took a long, steady drag.
forget realism for a moment and just imagine a panther smoking a cigarette.
what was dei's issue, you might ask? well, it wasn't quite as simple as that. she was still paranoid and crap over the whole war with the exiles thing. she'd [i]seen what that emperor was capable of doing - to his friends. besides the fact that it made her even more suspicious of everyone, it just struck her as a bad idea. she sucked down the cigarette won a few drawn-out anxious drags, and flicked it aside. feeling slightly calmer now, dei stood and turned towards the door. instantaneously her head started to pound, and a million voices filled her mind.
newyorkcity's such a bitch, i can't believe she said that to me.
this is terrible, the exiles will kill us all just because calvary can't forget a grudge!
i wonder if mark's awake yet.
wow, that's pathetic, and he thinks he's good.
i never should have come here.
i miss my mom, i hope she's doing all right with natasha and niccolo.
please don't be dead, you can't be dead-
dei's vision had gone due to the pain in her head. so many voices, all with their own complaints and requests. none of the voices were even familiar, and could be coming from anywhere, thanks to her super senses. with a shriek she threw herself at the flimsy wall in an attempt to ride herself from the voices, and the rotten wood crumbling like powder under her weight. she tumbled for the sky, but flared her wings and caught herself. disorganized, the demigod practically plummeted from the sky and "landed" in a crumpled heap in a small courtyard.
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