Posts by augur

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[fancypost bgcolor=; borderwidth=0px; width: 500px; letter-spacing:5px][align=center][font=bookman oldstyle]LEYNA EVONNA [size=12]SCHNEIDER
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 500px; font-family: bell mt; font-size: 10px;][justify][glow=black,2,300]The woman almost passed as angelic with her warm smile and twinkling eyes that met the young girl by the doorstep the moment her shoes crunched within the thin layer of snow. Surely the older woman had been expecting her arrival and had rushed to the door the minute the sound of the car coming to a stop could be heard. And although no one managed to point it out, they were precisely on time and did not allow the snowfall to slow them down. After all, their business was risky and although their hearts were full of kind intentions, they did not want to be caught with the young girl in their possession. She was just one in a population that was labeled impure and was reassured to be extinct within the coming months.

To have the rebellious thought of wondering how such a person could be deemed impure was dangerous if found out about. To take action on helping those who were deemed impure was exceptionally dangerous. So when agreeing to take in the girl who was the young age of nineteen, the older woman found herself caught in an internal conflict of selfishness over selflessness. Her life was now on the line more than it ever would be the moment she opened the door and beckoned the young girl into her home. And although she found herself wondering whether she rather back out while she still had the chance, her heart tightened and that was an answer within itself. This young girl was now her responsibility.

Once the door was locked behind them, the older woman took her time examining her newest house guest. She was a pretty girl with blond hair and blue eyes, features that would not cause any suspicion if she was caught within the home. But the yellow star sewed onto her dirty jacket revealed her and that was enough to sentence her to death. With an abrupt outreach, the older woman was quick to take off her jacket, a sense of worry flashing before her own wrinkled facial features. Perhaps she had taken on too heavy of a role than she had expected. Having one within her home was no problem, but now she was faced with two, and could not help but almost regret it. It was one more to take care of. One more that could get her and her family into trouble.

"I get you another jacket, mädchen." the woman spoke in broken English, placing the jacket within a cupboard where it would stay hidden until burned. It was unfortunate that such a small yellow star could be as dangerous as it was. But that was the truth of the matter that everyone knew but no one spoke. Not even the young girl's parents would speak of it from the moment her mother sewed it onto their clothing. Instead it was greeted with a tearful glance and a heavy frown until it was no longer acknowledged within the family. To them, it was out of sight out of mind until the children went to bed and the adults stayed awake at night talking about the situation at hand. It was better that way, than having the children worry.

Parting her lips, Lenya quietly broke her silence in response to the older woman. "Es ist Lenya." Either they had forgotten to tell the older woman her name, or she had not cared to address her by it. But either way, Lenya cared to inform her. And the woman did not care to take it the wrong way, instead acknowledging it with a small smile and a head nod, her lips softly repeating the name under her breath. She almost appeared to be relieved knowing her name, as if there was more importance behind it than Lenya could understand. That seemed to be the case with Lenya for many things. The assumption that she was not able to understand was the given excuse when someone did not want to go further into detail.

With a warm hand placed on her shoulder, Lenya was lead through the house. The two passed through the kitchen and a small living area before stopping in front of a door. It was shut tightly, with no noise escaping from the other side. Beckoning her to follow, the door was slowly swung open and the two made their way down the wooden steps that softly squeaked under their weight. Even in the dim lighting Lenya found herself clutching to the banister until she reached the bottom. She was in the heart of the basement, her eyes slowly taking in her surroundings as the older woman began to talk. She spoke of the rules against going upstairs during the day, and the rules against making too much noise. She also informed her that when a signal was given, they were to hide.

They.

Glancing over, Lenya caught the attention of the young man who was sitting across the room. He had been there the whole time, surely, watching her in silence. No doubt a man around her age who was in the same predicament as herself. No introductions were given for him, instead the woman glanced over at him and then flashed Lenya a small smile. "Besser als allein zu sein, no?" Lenya could not seem to agree more, taking in the man with warm regards. The thought of living within the darkness of the basement alone scared her as she descended the stairs. But seeing the man brought light to her eyes. As if, for a short moment, she found hope within herself by simply looking at him. She was not alone, and that small fact was comforting enough.

Listening as the older woman climbed the stairs, Lenya slowly walked towards the man, her hands fumbling with her skirt. The whole situation was completely nerve wracking and she could not manage to hide it. Perhaps the man felt the same way, sitting there with a girl walking towards him. But she gave him no time to speak his feelings as she managed to get the first word in. [color=black]"Hallo," Her voice was quiet against the eery silence that filled the air. [color=black]"My name is Lenya." she spoke in broken English, unaware of his background. He could've been from anywhere, fluent in any language. Maybe he didn't even understand English. Lenya barely managed, only knowing a few words and phrases from her parents who managed to teach themselves.
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[glow=black,2,300][color=white]OOC |
- Comments: Sorry for any mistakes.
- Word count: 1,080
- Translations:
- Mädchen: Girl
- Es ist: It is
- Besser als allein zu sein: Better than to be alone
- Hallo: Hello[/glow]

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[fancypost bgcolor=; borderwidth=0px; width: 500px; letter-spacing:5px][align=center][font=bookman oldstyle]LEYNA EVONNA [size=12]SCHNEIDER
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 500px; font-family: bell mt; font-size: 10px;][justify][glow=black,2,300]The man sat a few years older than herself, finding comfort in the corner where the shadows enveloped his frame. All she could make out was his dark shadow that lingered against the wall, and the gentle rustle of cloth in the growing silence. It wasn't until closer examination, however, when the shine of his irises flickered in the darkness, fixed on her as she grew closer and spoke her hesitant words. He sat with a straightened back and broad shoulders, his hands fixed still in his lap on top of an old coat, far from thick enough to keep him warm at night.

Lenya couldn't help but tug at her own coat, pulling it tighter around her petite frame as the chilled winter air grazed against her fair skin. It was the best coat she owned, and the only coat she was allowed to take with her. She wished to take one more, as a safety precaution, along with a few pictures of her family and a notebook to write in. A diary, in a sense, to record her feelings, in case she found no one else to confide in. And, taking in the presence of the young man before her, she found that he might not be willing to take on such a burden.

It looked as if he had been living in the basement for a long period of time. His skin was pale beyond healthy attributes, his eyes were sunken in and enveloped in dark circles, and dark patches of hair grew around his jawline. For a moment, Lenya couldn't help but worry that she would look the same in a few weeks. Surely, no hair would grow around her jawline, but her eyes could grow dull just the same, and her skin could lose its color ever so easily. She had seen life fade from so many people, leaving them near death, in an emotional sense.

"What you speak?" It was clear his tongue was not native to English, and with the heavy accent coating her words, it was clear her tongue wasn't native to English either. She had been taught English by her school teachers and her parents, and only so much to get her by. Only so much that covered the basics, a short conversation, and phrases that would perhaps help her through an emergency. She had been lucky enough to never have been in a dire one, but standing there before Nikoli, she concluded that it was in fact an emergency.

The whole war was an emergency. It was a dangerous situation needing immediate action, and yet a solution seemed so far out of reach. The most people could manage to do was hide a Jewish person in their home, risking their own live for others. And although Lenya couldn't be more grateful for the kind couple's action, she couldn't help but feel as if they still weren't doing enough. She wanted crowds of people to stand up and revolt. Perhaps that would end the war, if people would band against the atrocities taking place under their noses.

[color=black]"Ich spreche Deutsch. Oh, bitte sagen Sie mir, dass Sie Deutsch sprechen können!" A soft plea in her native tongue, pleading that she were to be lucky enough to be accompanied with another German. Or, at least, that he could speak German, so that she wouldn't be stuck in the silence that she was already growing to hate. It had only been a few minutes at most, and with the war growing worse, she couldn't imagine living down in the basement in absolute silence. She could never learn to love it. Perhaps, if he weren't able to speak German, they could find other ways to communicate.

Glancing around, Lenya took in her surrounding with a hesitant manner, the territory already marked as Nikoli's. The lighting was dim, except for a few candles which were scattered amongst the area. Surely they couldn't be lit during the nighttime, or when the signal was given, which was a sneeze as soon as the door creaked open. Leyna hoped she would never have to hear the signal. There would be nowhere to run, leaving hiding as their only option. Perhaps Nikoli would be kind enough to let Lenya in on his hiding spaces.

Back at home, before Lenya and her siblings were forced into hiding, she would play silly games with her younger siblings. One game, they would have to hide within the home while she tried to find them. Ever since she left, she felt as if she has been persistently playing the game. Finding a good place to hide, all the while the seeker threateningly counted down from ten. Her time would run out, eventually, she figured. She only hoped she could find her siblings before she was sought out. Vow to them never to play such a silly game ever again.

Reaching into her pocket, her lean fingers fumbled through her belongings. Her father had given her some money, and her mother had given her a small comb. She received a small flower from her sister, and a pebble from her brother. She wanted to reassure herself that they didn't manage to slip out while on her journey. And they hadn't, still where she had placed them before leaving. They were things that she had taken for granted before leaving, and now standing where she was, she promised to cherish them for as long as she were to live.

Looking back at Nikoli, she frowned slightly, realizing that she had forgotten her manners. Wars did that to people. It sucked the humanity right out of them. [color=black]"Vergib mir. Es ist eine Freude, Sie zu treffen. Ich hoffe, dass Sie mein Unternehmen nichts ausmacht." She felt wrong, calling this meeting a pleasure. Like she was lying straight to his face. Yes, if the circumstances were to be different, she was sure it would then be considered a pleasure. But it was not, and both of them knew it. She only hoped he wouldn't mind sharing his space with her for however long she were to stay.[/glow]

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[glow=black,2,300][color=white]OOC |
- Comments: I realized that in the first post her jacket was taken away, but I'm too lazy to fix it. Forgive me.
- Word count: 1,020
- Translations:
- Ich spreche Deutsch. Oh, bitte sagen Sie mir, dass Sie Deutsch sprechen können: I speak German. Oh, please tell me
you can speak German
- Vergib mir. Es ist eine Freude, Sie zu treffen. Ich hoffe, dass Sie mein Unternehmen nichts ausmacht: Forgive me. It's a
pleasure to meet you. I hope you don't mind my company.[/glow]

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[fancypost bgcolor=; borderwidth=0px; width: 500px; letter-spacing:5px][align=center][font=bookman oldstyle]ZALTANA AYASHA [size=12][color=black]WHITE
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 500px; font-family: bell mt; font-size: 10px;][justify][glow=black,2,300]Hushed accusations never ceased to graze upon her ears in the small village of Salem. Even if she were alone to her own thoughts, those spiteful rumors would be carried in by the wind and catch against her eardrums. They would redden her skin as if she had just been reprimanded, and tears would cloud her vision as she tried to escape the words. She could never manage to escape them, however, with even the safety of the church susceptible to ostracize. Some members of the community found it hard to worship the one and only Savior when the Devil's hand was sitting right beside them.

Zaltana found it best to pray when no one was within the church, a small timeframe before dinner was to be served. Nearly everyone was expected to be at home during this time, to be with their families as they prepared to sit down at the table and eat. But, finding herself without a family any longer, all she had to do was ask the Reverend - the man of whom she lives with as a servant - if she could leave. And, granted her situation, he is obliged to allow it, hopeful that some much needed prayer will set her right again, though deep down, he knows there is no helping her.

With her hands covered in flour and long fingers curled deep into dough, all she had was her voice to gently scold the young children across the room for fighting. Their mother had grown ill after birthing a stillborn, and was instructed not to be woken except to eat and drink, of which she measly did. The children respected the orders, and once reminded, were quick to grow quiet of shame that they had forgotten. That, and their fear that if they were to object in any way, Zaltana would put a spell on them like she had their mother. After all, she was a witch.

It was hard to prove otherwise, with her mother being a Native American. The Native Americans worked closely with the Devil, so to be birthed by one was sinful in itself. Furthermore, she had to carry the sinful name of Zaltana Ayasha, a name not written in the Bible. It was for those reasons alone, that her and her father were looked down upon by the community. But it wasn't until people accused all their misfortunes for witchery when Zaltana was finally accused, and her father was hung for his sins. All it took was sixteen years for it to come boiling down.

Washing her hands free of yeast, Zaltana looked up to meet the intrusive gaze of the Reverend. He always seemed to be watching her so carefully, waiting for something to call her out on, but he never directly did. Instead he bid her a curt nod after shutting the door, his eyes flickering in another direction. To hold eye contact with people grew as a desire for Zaltana, as more and more people found it unbearable to look into her green irises and darkened pupils. The eyes of the Devil, most considered it, simply waiting for her pupils to turn red with blood.

[color=black]"Reverend." she called out, her voice caught in her throat for a moment as he slowly turned on his heels. He knew all too well what she was going to request, however he didn't give her the pleasure of interrupting her. He wanted to hear her ask, just like she always did, every night, right before dinner. [color=black]"If you would please pardon me, Reverend, so I may pray for forgiveness within the comfort of the church." It came out a heavy plea, as if for once he would not allow it, though she knew him better than that. Not allowing it would be sinful.

She was pardoned leave without question, and once outside in the humid summer air, she briskly made her way towards the large building in the center of the village. It was the largest building in the village, and best kept up, always painted a fresh layer of white when it grew too dull. People respected the building, and even the young children wouldn't dare carry in dirt from the outside. Zaltana hardly made an attempt at cleaning her shoes before entering, wanting to enter without the notice of others still milling about outside.

Taking a seat in the front row, Zaltana bowed her head, her hands clasped out in front of her. She grew silent and still, her attention focused on the prayers she spoke. So focused, in fact, that she hardly noticed the young man entering.

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[glow=black,2,300]OOC |
- Comments: I thought I'd make her character a bit more interesting by adding the Native American background.
- Word count: 770[/glow]

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[fancypost bgcolor=; borderwidth=0px; width: 500px; letter-spacing:5px][align=center][font=bookman oldstyle]ZALTANA AYASHA [size=12][color=black]WHITE
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 500px; font-family: bell mt; font-size: 10px;][justify][glow=black,2,300]The first strike amongst the group finally occurred after several minutes of growing anticipation, contact close to being made, though the strike too impulsive to be considered admirable. It received passionate shouts from the crowd, nonetheless, who were pleased, in the least, to see some considerable action. The sacrifice was too nervous, when it began, to move about before the other instruments of destruction came to rouse him. He grew intimidated by the red pupils and painted faces, and until one pair of red eyes decided to lung forth, he hadn't moved more than a yard across the square.

The cracking sound of a whip sent the reptiles into a frenzy, hisses beginning to rumble from the depths of their throats, in warning to anyone who dared come any closer. But their wishes were not granted and their warnings were not taken seriously, the young man beginning to stumble around the square aimlessly as his skin began to burn. The constant crack of whips washed over the noise level of the animated crowd, and drew more people to the ceremony as they quit their prior occupations. Even small children, eager with their innocence, ran to the square to glimpse at the sacrifice.

Dirt unsettled as knees dropped, washing over the skin that was stained with sweat and blood. He had not persevered as long as the others have before him, and for that, painted faces grew disappointed and worried. If their sacrifice proved insufficient, their month would prove long and full of misfortunes. The young man knew that well enough, but his affection for his people could not bring him to stand once more, crumbled against the ground with serpents gliding across his skin. His awaited death was not far off now, as painted faces withdrew their whips.

A sudden outcry came from the crowd, the mother of whom was consumed with disappointment and selfish thoughts as her son sunk further into the ground. If he passed on as quickly as he was letting on, he would be considered a great failure, and his family would pay in return for the misfortunes that were soon to follow. The Gods would punish them for their son, who would be the quickest to die in several months now. Her shrill commands proved ineffective, the sacrifice deemed dead and the ceremony over after only less than an hour.

People inched forward, paying their respects after the snakes were removed from the square. Some, such as the elders, felt it wrong to pay respects. They'd rather spit on him with spite, and pray that the Gods would be merciful towards him. But they still remained cordial as they walked up to the body, a finger grazing against a wound to cover the damage in white paint. It was tradition to cover the wounds in white paint, and everyone was eager to participate, even the children, who were not allowed, and instead in the arms of their parents as the adults took part instead.

With her index finger concealed in white, Zaltana kneeled down before the body, her hand outstretched. [color=black]"Thank you for your sacrifice." she mumbled in her native tongue, her finger grazing against his chest where a deep laceration scarred his tissue. She traded paint for blood, and once finished, made her way towards the river where the others were gathered, washing their stained bodies as well. She kneeled upon the bank, her hands dipping into the cool water that was sparkling with the suns reflection. Gentle ripples lapped up against her soft skin as she began to scrub away.

Finding herself being addressed by the Chief, she promptly stood and turned to face him. She didn't have to see him to recognize his gravelly voice that was soaked in wise attributes. Glancing past him curiously, her green irises twinkled in surprise, finding that he was accompanied by a few outsiders. [color=black]"They will be staying here for a few weeks. You will be of their service, if they are to need anything." She could tell by the way his words were restricted that he wasn't particularly fond of having guests, though he didn't have much of a choice in the matter.

Even as the Chief, he was not allowed to deny researchers from visiting the reservation. When being allowed to remain a tribe, he also agreed to allow researchers to access the reservation whenever they were permitted by their government. This was the first visit in several weeks, and after the sacrifice, people weren't particularly welcoming to the guests. If the Gods pleased, they would have the guests reek havoc amongst the tribe, and send it up in flames. But so far, as Zaltana intrusively gazed upon them, they seemed rather harmless, and perhaps just a bit nervous.[/glow]

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[glow=black,2,300]OOC |
- Comments: Sorry, it's a bit rushed towards the end.
- Word count: 795[/glow]

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[fancypost bgcolor=; borderwidth=0px; width: 500px; letter-spacing:5px][align=center][font=bookman oldstyle]ZALTANA AYASHA [size=12]WHITE
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 500px; font-family: bell mt; font-size: 10px;][justify][glow=black,2,300]Knowing it was sure to follow if granted authority, Zaltana was quick to speak, keeping the awkward silence at bay. Not that it would've bothered her any, being that she found it the least enjoyable to engage with the two outsiders. But her attitude might cause trouble if the outsiders were bold enough to report it. So, with a small frown and parted lips, she began to speak as she wiped her hands dry on the leather that hung from her waist. "You say that to be polite." she pointed out, her words soaked in a callous tone. Perhaps, if the sacrifice hadn't gone so poorly, she would've been more hospitable.

If the Gods found it suitable, they would use the two outsiders as punishment against the tribe. They had done it once before, with a young man who was not strong enough to handle the living conditions, and spread his sickness throughout the tribe. Many people grew sick, and several young children and elderly died in their agony. Outsiders swore it was coincidence, but unwilling to believe in coincidences, the tribal people knew they were being punished. This was their first set of visitors after several weeks of upset, and they were welcomed with bold stares and heavy frowns.

"Come." she said, walking past the two with no introductions. She did not care to learn their names, their reasoning for being there, or even give them her name. If they had the least bit of intelligence, they would know that her name was Zaltana. That was what the Chief addressed her as, and that was what she responded to. She wasn't about to waste her time or breath repeating what they were already aware of. But what they already knew, Zaltana wasn't entirely sure. They knew the Chief, her name, but they must've known more than that. Surely the Chief had spoken to them at least a bit.

Pupils were burning into her skin as they lead them through the town square, where men were placing the sacrifice on a pile of wood. They would burn the body come sunset, sending smoke to the Gods along with the spirit. The smell of burning flesh would dominate the camp, but everyone was used to it, so it was nothing to fear. Everyone except for the two outsiders, who were in for a real treat within a few hours. [color=black]"You have question, you come to me." she spoke, quickening her pace as they reached a large hut, not far from the center of the village.

It happened to be one of the largest huts built, besides the Chiefs, of course. It sat lavished with furs and pottery, and space which was a gift within itself. To have more than one room meant you were highly respected amongst the tribe, and also meant you had much power. Both of which, the outsiders were lacking, but were given the hunt anyways. It was strictly reserved to outsiders, and the servants which were assigned to them. Zaltana was assigned this time, having no prior commitments to keep her occupied.

Shutting the door behind her, Zaltana watched them as they inspected their new home. She only hoped that they wouldn't be too picky, and would find the area up to their liking. If not, it would be up to her to satisfy them, and that was not something she found enjoyable. Even though that was her current job for the next couple of weeks. Do as they pleased. So with a clenched jaw, she cleared her throat. [color=black]"I'm here to do as you say, but if you're smart, you'll do as I say too." she spoke boldly, crossing her arms. [color=black]"You don't know our ways. One wrong move and you will get yourself into trouble."

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[glow=black,2,300]OOC |
- Comments: Finally done! So sorry about the wait. Your post was beautiful, but sorry about this one. It was a bit rushed.
- Word count: 630[/glow]

[fancypost bgcolor=; borderwidth=0px; width: 500px; letter-spacing:5px][align=center][font=bookman oldstyle][size=12][color=black]KALANI REHEMA STAVROS[hr]
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[fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 500px; font-family: bell mt; font-size: 10px;][justify][color=black]The gentle tapping of piano keys brought the atmosphere down to a calming level, where even the liquor couldn’t stir anyone from their comfortable seats in the lounge. Small conversation was made in moderate proportions, and flirtatious gestures such as a bad pick up line or a hand brushing up against desired flesh was quickly resolved. Either shot down by the mere mention of a ring, or resolved with the two making their way to the elevator, where their silhouettes seemed to linger on the walls. No one seemed to pay any attention, with their eyes at least, which for the most part remained on the bartender in attempts to flag him down for another drink.

With fingers busy twirling the glass against the cork coaster, the pair of eyes boldly remained fixed on the two strangers waiting for the elevator. Hazel irises took notice of his wedding ring, which sat just below her waist, and reaching for that mound of flesh which hardly fit in her leggings. A giggle escaped her, and her hand went up to his broad shoulders, where it began to play with his collared shirt. And then the two were suddenly interrupted, and didn’t continue with their little show of affection until the elevator doors shut. Finding nothing more to watch, the hazel irises flickered elsewhere, scanning the room for any other source of entertainment.

"Miss."

The bartender eyed the empty drink in her hand, which she continued to twirl until brought back to reality. "Another drink?" He wasn’t fond of her cheap and silent company, though he didn’t care to say it. Instead, he asked if she would like another drink, in which she declined. Pushing the glass towards him, and throwing a bill on the counter, she stood, realizing that it was getting late. All she had wanted was a quick drink before bed, and instead she sat there for more time that expected, silently watching people live their lives without them even knowing she was there. That man will never know that his wedding ring once flashed her reflection.

OOC |
This thread is based off the relationship of Piper and Alex in Orange Is The New Black.
Major work in progress. Tracking allowed.