Posts by Easglefeather

[img width=510 height=53]http://fontmeme.com/newcreate.…ize=40&style_color=E3E8FF[/img]

(( Alright, I'll try to sort of weave my post around what you've already written. Eishka is a beautiful name - I love it! <3
Also, I couldn't find the perfect picture for Gemma (you know how picky I am with pictures haha). Basically, she looks just like the picture above, but her hair is cut into a short bob/long pixie cut. She'll grow it out later on into the length it is in the picture.
Oh, and just so you know the whole pointed ears and pale skin thing are just suggestions. You can also include whatever characteristics you feel would suit a water nymph. :) ))

The locker door slammed shut and the lock was fastened securely. It was still swinging gently from side to side as Gemma shouldered her dark blue duffel bag and walked away, white runners squeaking against the wet tiled floor. Her hair, normally deep ginger in colour, now appeared to be dark chestnut from being still wet. Water droplets fell from her cropped, ear-length locks onto the back and shoulders of her gray sweatshirt.

Gemma appeared to be lost in thought when she passed by a group of three other girls. One of them snatched her arm, causing her to blink in recognition. She broke into a smile and faint, nervous laugh as the girl tugged her over.

"Bitch!" the girl exclaimed teasingly. She had lovely tanned skin and dark brown hair. "Where are you off to in such a hurry? You kicked butt in practice today."

"Yeah, no kidding," said another girl, this time a blonde. "A four minute forty-eight second breath hold! You'll be winning gold in no time."

"Oh my God, you guys," Gemma retorted, rolling her eyes. "Stop it, you sound like you're freaking obsessed over me. I've done better before. Besides, Samantha, you nailed that butterfly stroke today! You made a twenty-second length look like a breeze."

"Okay, seriously you guys, practice is over," said the last girl, obviously irritated. "Gemma, we were gonna go to that party at the Martins' later. You coming?"

"Yeah, sure," Gemma responded with a shrug. She adjusted her duffel bag and shifted her position, clearly ready to leave. "Sounds like fun. I might be a bit late, though. I wanted to do some more practice at home first."

"Gemma," Samantha said, staring at her friend hard in the eyes. "You practice plenty enough as is. You need to give yourself some time to relax, okay? See you later."

Rolling her eyes, Gemma waved Samantha off and pushed open the locker room door. She was still snorting to herself about the comment that she needed to relax more. Olympic swimmers didn't win medals for relaxing. They trained. They worked hard. Yet, as she made her way through the fitness complex, Gemma paused unexpectedly. She eyed the familiar vending machine by the entrance, then felt around her pocket for a few loose quarters. Swedish Berries. For some reason, she felt a craving for the sweet, sugary and highly-processed candy. Samantha had told her that she needed to relax, and indulging in a guilty pleasure was sort of like relaxing, right? In any case, she was still going to do some more practicing when she got home.

- - -

Gemma gasped. She burst from the water, breaking the still surface of the lake like a stone shattering glass. Quickly, she checked her waterproof watch. Four minutes and forty-one seconds. With an audible grunt of frustration, Gemma began swimming back to shore. She pulled herself up onto the grassy bank, the one closest to her house, then sat on the edge with her feet dangling in the water. Although her training consisted of a huge variety of exercises - running, yoga, a bit of weight lifting and, of course, swimming - her main goal was to be the ultimate free-diver. Currently, the record for the longest breath hold of all time was twenty-two minutes. She planned to do twenty-three someday.

Recently, however, her breath hold had seemed to plateau. She remembered when she had hit five minutes and four seconds. It had been... wonderful. But now she couldn't even get up to five minutes. But why? The answer escaped her and it was irritating. She needed to train more, try harder. Push herself more.

Then Samantha's words rang back into her ears. Her eyes flicked towards her duffel bag and she searched it for a minute until her fingertips felt the smooth, plastic bag of the Swedish Berries she had bought earlier. She tugged on it, trying all different ways to get the package open, yet even the treat she had gotten to reward herself seemed to tease her. Finally, she practically screamed with frustration.

"Fuck!" she exclaimed angrily, ripping open the package violently. Candy flew in nearly every direction. Two of the bright red sweets plopped into the water. Gemma groaned and flopped down backwards. She clutched her head, her fingers knotted tightly in her short locks. Tears threatened to burst from her eyes. I'm never going to win any medals, or break any records, she told herself wretchedly. Maybe I should just give up swimming. I can't do this anymore.

(( Whew, finally got it done! It always seems that either I have the type to write a post but no muse, or I have a ton of muse but no time. In this case, I had a ton of muse all day but I've been way too busy to actually type it up. Finally got it done now though, lol. ))

"As you wish, m'lady," Luca responded with a mock bow, grinning. As Aleera disappeared down the hallway, he stood up and looked towards Aleera and Namid, pleased that everyone agreed that breakfast was just the thing needed right then.

"Shall we?" he then said, turning so that he was positioned between the two girls and held both of his arms out as an invitation for them to take one each. Although he was sure to throw on an air of cheerfulness, he too was anxious about what had happened to Kris. He didn't particularly care for the other boy, but he did sympathize with the lower-class boy. He was all too aware of the struggles that plagued the low-class citizens. He didn't blame them for their theft; instead, he admired the bravery of those willing to risk their necks to take what they needed to survive, fighting against the greedy fat cats of the world. Like yourself, he thought with an inward grumble. Luca was irritated with himself for his hypocritical behaviour. Dining and behaving as a lower class citizen, abandoning all airs of propriety, only to retreat back into the cozy upper-class life later on. He knew that he would have to choose one life or the other, that he couldn't keep up his juggling act for much longer.

That's right. You do, Aquilla chimed in. But you might be able to find a compromise. In the new world, you can keep your title and wealth yet still be an advocate for the people. It's an opportunity to have a hand in the rules of society while they're still being written, to assert your power for good rather than greed. If you choose to give up that life, however, the other option is to abandon your power and live as a lowly beggar or thief instead, and what good would that do for the class you want to help? Nothing.

Luca was tired of arguing with his dæmon and, though he was loathe to admit it, he was starting to realize that Aquilla was right. What she was suggesting was noble and charitable, the best way to serve the lower class. Yet it was also the option with the most work, the toughest route. Luca didn't feel he was ready to take on such responsibility. Then again, responsibility had always been something he avoided like the plague.

Luca glanced curiously at O'ryan as the daemon voiced his obvious distaste for the black tea that was so common in their society. He smiled as Namid took his other arm, then began to guide the two girls back towards the mess hall. Of course, he felt nervous about appearing in the mess hall in his current state; Luca wasn't dressed in his commoner disguise, and so there was a chance that he would be recognized. He tried to reassure himself, though, that they wouldn't spend long at breakfast and besides, his uncle and anyone else who knew him would likely be still passed out, or at least confined to their rooms after the drinking that had taken place last night.

"I'm sure there will be juice and coffee as well, O'ryan," he said reassuringly as they pressed towards the mess hall. More and more people were starting to spill onto the public spaces of the ship, perhaps awakened by the noise of the guards and ship-hands, the rocking motion and the now-bright sun. The cold, nippy ocean breeze, however, ensured that all those who were on deck moved quickly to get to somewhere warm. Most were headed towards the mess hall. Luca tried his best to blend in with the crowd, keeping his head low so that his face couldn't easily be seen by any passerbys.

Alice's eyes flickered around the camp nervously, like a doe that had stumbled across a pack of wolves. Emerald irises darted first here, then there as they absorbed the sights and smells and sounds that surrounded her and Victoria. Although she wouldn't want to admit it, she was scared. The gypsy camp was far larger than even her vivid imagination had envisioned it. Another surprise, however, was the presence of such a large variety of members. She hadn't expected to see children, who ran to-and-fro, laughing... that is, until they spotted her. Then they seemed to disappear behind their mother's skirts, eying her as warily as she eyed them. Alice had never been particularly good with children and so she felt uncomfortable under their unabashed stares, almost as though accusing her for interrupting their play.

There were many others, too. Men and women both young and old, all doing their own tasks. Like the children, however, they appeared to grow tense as they eyes fell upon her. She blushed, her face growing red as a rose, when she realized that there were at least two young men who gazed at her with an appreciative hunger in their eyes. Alice was painfully aware of what precious little covered her body - although her breasts were concealed by the cape draped over her shoulders, the semi-sheer night dress did nothing to disguise her slim, curvy figure. Never had she felt so exposed as she did at that moment, and she now wished desperately that she had changed into her skirt and blouse back in her room in the town home. One of the young men in particular seemed to make a point of watching her, his eyes wandering up and down her figure. He then winked and nudged his friend. Alice wanted to die right then.

Just then, an older gypsy woman approached the two girls and exchanged a few words with Victoria. With bated breath, Alice half-expected the woman to decree that she must be leave... or worse. After all, now that she knew where the gypsy camp was, who would blame her for wanting the upper-class lady dead before their location could be given away? She nearly gave an audible sigh of relief as the tension faded and she was pulled into a welcoming hug.

"J- J- J'aire V- Vermanes," she stammered, dipping into a curtsy as soon as she was released from the embrace. Even among gypsies and dressed in little more than a negligee, Alice found it hard to abandon the manners that her mother had once driven like a stake into her mind. "Thank you so much for your hospitality. D- do... I mean, I'm sorry for sounding impertinent, but... do you by chance have some fresh water and a clean cloth I could use?"

Alice swallowed and shifted her feet. She was tempted to ask for an empty tent where she could change clothes as well, but she didn't want to push her luck. She was a stranger here and was hardly in a position to be making demands. Right now, her most urgent need was to deal with the cut on her cheek. Then, she realized, a bed or at least a blanket and pillow and a place to sleep, for she was utterly exhausted. After all that had happened, she was surprised she hadn't passed out on her own by now. Sleep weighed on her, and she felt that she had to fight to simply keep her eyes open and herself upright.

(( No, it looks just great!
UGH. Accidentally deleted my post. Time to re-type it all... :/ ))

After several long moments of feeling sorry for herself, Gemma let out a long, audible sigh. Slowly, she twisted herself over onto her stomach and dug her damp hands into the grass, pushing herself into a kneeling position. She reached up to rest her face in the palm of one hand, her eyes closed tightly. The bitter thought that she would never reach her goal of twenty-three minutes continued to throb in her mind like a malicious demon that had taken up residence inside her skull.

The one who had broken the Guinness world record for the longest underwater breath hold was a man named Stig Severinson. He had been an inspiration to Gemma ever since she had first heard about the amazing feat. He was a believer in the power of mind over matter and his philosophy was that, if the mind and body were in perfect harmony, one could control stress, energy, performance and even pain. In the past year, Gemma had come to live and breathe his methods.

Yet now she began to question her unfailing devotion to Stig and his methods. Surely, it was impossible for the mind to conquer every physical limitation, right? The truth was, Stig was a man. He was taller than Gemma, had less fat and more muscle and, importantly, had a larger rib cage. This meant more room for the lungs to expand. It was cold, hard science and physiology: the less room available for lungs equals less air sucked into them. Less air equals less time spent underwater. Stig had trained to get to where he was ever since he was a child, while Gemma didn't get involved in competitive swimming until she was fourteen. How could she possibly expect to surpass one of the most athletic and devoted free-divers of all time? In spite of all the wonderful possibilities that opened up with the idea that the mind could surpass the limitations of the body, there were some things that just couldn't be done. The thought nearly made Gemma choke.

She twisted around and picked up a Swedish Berry that lay not far from her. She twisted it between her fingers, then plopped it onto her tongue. The juicy sweetness of it spilled deliciously onto her tongue, yet it was somewhat wasted on her. She ate it out of self-pity rather than as a reward for her hard work. Stig's meal plan probably consisted of steamed veggies and raw eggs, but what did it matter what she ate? I mayaswell just stuff myself with junk food for the rest of my days, she thought, chewing on another candy. I'll never beat Stig, anyways.

Then, a flash of something in the water caught her attention. Gemma sat up straight and peered through the lake water, her eyes narrowed. Was that a... fish? There was some shape, barely discernible, floating just beneath the water's surface not far from the shore. She couldn't make out any details - it was merely a dark figure, distorted by the shadows of reeds. Probably nothing. Even so, she couldn't take her eyes away from it, wondering if it would move. It had to be a large fish. But then, fish didn't float in one place, right? Especially not so close to shore? Gemma leaned forward, bending over the water and half-expecting her imagined fish to dart away as her shadow fell over it.

(( Haha, I don't blame you for doing research on the character. I haven't played too many mythological creatures, but when I do I like to find out as much as I can about them.

Hmmm I like all of the powers to be honest, lol. But do you think that instead of looking into the future by intention (ie, looking into the water held in her hands), it could be infrequent and come in visions and dreams? I definitely think it would be fine for her to control water though - at least the lake that she lives in. Maybe she makes it so that it never freezes over (and therefore keeps herself warm), which puzzles people but they just assume there's some sort of underground thermal chamber that keeps it warm lol.

Oooh! I love the transformation idea. I think that it would be neat if a tree grew in her place - maybe a weeping willow? In mythology, the weeping willow was often associated with grief, hence "weeping". So it's like, even after death, she's in perpetual mourning over what happened. Just an idea, though. Oh, but also I don't think that her body should be found in that case - otherwise the police investigators would probably take her body away and try to identify her (which they couldn't, obviously) and then bury her somewhere else. ))

"Holy shit!"

Gemma staggered backwards, her eyes wide open as she tripped and landed on her butt. She stared dumbfoundedly at the girl who had just popped out of the water. Who the hell was that? And... how was she able to stay underwater for so long? She must have been hiding in the reeds or something.

"Who the hell are you?" she snapped, "and what are you doing in my parents' lake?"

Gemma appeared angry now. She sat up straight, her eyebrows furrowed as she inspected the strange girl. It was only then that she noticed just how pale she was. Her skin was nearly white! It was eerie, really. Obviously she didn't get enough vitamin D. And what was up with her ears? They were strangely pointed. She had stringy, blonde hair that looked like it spent too much time in the water. Oh, and something else she noticed...

"Why on Earth are you naked?" she screeched. "Seriously, put some clothes on, weirdo."

In response to the girl's tentative request for - what did she say? "Rad Balls"? - Gemma snatched away the package and shoved it into her duffel bag. She glared at the weird blonde girl as though to say that until she got an explanation, there would be no more freebies.

(( Sorry for the short post. ))

(( Sorry. ))

Juniperkit smirked, then darted forward once again. His eyes were narrowed in concentration as he chased the she-kit about the warriors den. He lashed out at her paws in an attempt to trip her, his small yet sharp claws unsheathed.

Alice returned Victoria's squeeze gratefully, pleased that the man known as Kenji had obeyed the woman known as J'aire. Obviously, she held the power here. It was unusual - Alice had never before encountered a woman who commanded such respect. The only women she knew were quiet and meek around men. Obedience, not leadership, was the ideal trait for the girls of Alice's circles. In her world, were a woman, even a matriarch, to speak so brusquely to a man in public she would surely elicit shocked gasps and raised eyebrows. Yet, it was not uncommon for a husband to command his wife about, even before company. The thought gave Alice something to chew over.

She nearly stumbled as J'aire tugged her along, finding that her feet were sore and reluctant to move at the quick pace dictated by the woman. As she told them, curtly, that they would need to leave, Alice closed her eyes softly. So, she wouldn't be sleeping in the gypsy camp, after all. Whatever happened to the gypsies being friends?

She forced herself to remember, however, what it would mean for the gypsies if she were to be found hidden amongst them. Her mother would have a fit. Or at least... she would were she still alive. The memory pricked at her heart. She still had a hard time accepting that she would never see her mother again. It wasn't something she wished to dwell on.

In any case, it would be bad news for the gypsies. So, she decided, J'aire wasn't so anxious for them to leave because she was inhospitable. It was for the sake of her family that she decreed that Alice go somewhere else.

Alice glanced curiously at the dress that Victoria had picked up from the wagon, but was shocked at just how drab it was. There were several patches holding the frayed material together, and it looked like it needed a thorough cleaning... although, Alice feared that a hard scrubbing might make it fall apart altogether. She wrinkled her nose with distaste. Having never wanted for clothes all her life, she couldn't imagine wanting to put on such a wretched piece of clothing.

Then, J'aire thrust a bucket of water and some rags and bandages towards them. Alice took the wraps, leaving Victoria to carry the bucket. It wasn't an intentional move out of spite that Victoria was left with the heavy load; rather, she simply felt too exhausted to carry the bucket more than a few feet. That was if she didn't spill it, first.

After mumbling another "thank you" to J'aire, Alice walked with Victoria into the tent. Once inside, she located a three-legged stool and sat down heavily, closing her eyes briefly. The wound on her cheek had stopped bleeding and had started to scab over, leaving a tough, blackened patch of dried blood and pus. She was tempted to scratch it off but knew that it would start bleeding again if she was too rough with it. So, slowly, she took out a rag from the water tin and wrung it out, then dabbed it gently over her face. The cool water was soothing, and it felt nice to wipe off the ash and sweat. She glanced over at Victoria, wondering if her new friend needed any help with tending to her injured shoulder.

"Do you need me to wrap that for you?" she asked quietly. Her voice still rasped from the inhaled smoke. "It looks like an awkward thing to do yourself."

Gemma fumbled, embarrassed, as the girl stood up. She had always been rather modest - she didn't even like to shower in the locker rooms at the pool when other people were around - and so to see another girl so open and honest about her body was awkward for her. Her eyes kept flitting away, towards the lake, the ground, anything that would prevent her from staring at the naked girl. She was about to grab her towel and thrust it towards the girl, but what she said next stopped her.

Gemma raised a brow. "Clothes are restricting"? Who even says that? And she lives here? What is she, part of one of those communal living groups? Do we seriously have a bunch of naked hippies running around in our backyard?

Even as she thought about it, though, Gemma dismissed the idea. This girl - Yeeshka? - didn't seem like the type that lived communally. In fact, the way she spoke made Gemma think that she hadn't used her own voice for a very, very long time. It was soft and had an unusual timbre to it, although it wasn't unpleasant to listen to. So, what was she doing out here? Had she run away from home? Was she one of those children that she heard about in the psychological studies - the ones that were abandoned by their parents and grew up in the wilderness? If that were the case, Gemma was surprised that at just how fair and smooth Yeeshka's complexion was. Shouldn't she be dirty and covered in scrapes? Then again, she had just come out of the lake. Maybe she went swimming often to keep herself clean. That seemed plausible.

While her mind was busy speculating about who this Yeeshka was and where she had come from, she hadn't noticed the increase in mist. Now, however, it startled her. Fog didn't build up that quickly, right? She vaguely recalled learning in science class that fog was the result of condensation in the air, like a cloud. Although it was possible for it to form quite suddenly, it seemed strange to Gemma that it would happen in the middle of the day, when the sun was shining, since the heat of the sun usually burnt off condensation. It was also quite eerie. She glanced back and saw that she could only see a vague, dark shape where once she had seen her house quite clearly.

She turned back to Yeeshka.

"They're called Swedish Berries," Gemma snapped in response to her declaration that she liked the "rad balls". "Have you been living under a rock all your life or something?" Then again, she realized, it was a possibility. If she really was one of those wild children then how could she possibly know about things like candy?

"Seriously... Yeeshka. I need to know," she continued. "Why are you living out here? Did you run away from home? Are you lost? If you need help finding your family, I could probably call the police. They would know what to do."

Then, rather impulsively, she added, "I'll give you another berry if you answer my questions."

(( I've started copying my posts after about every other paragraph or so, to make sure if I lose it again I don't lose everything that I've written. XD ))

Terrified by this sudden twist of events, Juniperkit stumbled as quickly as he could out of the den. He didn't even look behind him to see what warrior had been disturbed from it's slumber. Instead, he chased after Temprakit with flattened ears, looking around frantically to find a place to hide.

"Quick, this way!" he called before twisting mid-stride. He made his way to a prickly thorn bush that lined the camp. Wincing, he weaved his way through the brambles until he found a little open space within the thorns where he could relax. He knew that, in here, he and Temprakit would be well-hidden, but also that even if found no warrior could get to them without getting scratched up. It was only due to his small size that he was able to squeeze through the prickles at all.

Luca had been feasting on the warm, grey-toned gruel that had been provided for breakfast, pausing now and then to sip at his too-strong tea. He kept his shaggy black hair hung over his eyes, sheepishly avoiding the gaze of anyone who might be staring, aghast, at the distinctly upper-class man who sat amongst them.

I should've changed before coming, he thought to Aquilla. Or brought us to the dining hall. Aleera and Namid are well-dressed enough to pass as the daughters of nobles, surely? Although his clothes weren't freshly ironed and he looked sloppier than usual, it was obvious that Luca should be dining with those in the upper dining hall - the ones who indulged in sweet pastries and boiled eggs for their first meal of the day. Aquilla didn't respond, but he could tell that she agreed with him. It had been foolish to come here. The guard to whom he had shown his meal ticket raised a brow questioningly, surprised that he would use his more expensive ticket to attend a meal with the lower classes. He had even given a short, awkward bow, uncertain of how to behave in such an absurd situation.

He glanced at both Namid and Aleera, realizing that, although Leina and Kris and Glissa had known about his true rank, these two other girls had no idea that he was anything more than a common street boy.

"I always have been," he admitted in a quiet tone to Namid. His demeanor, once so cocky and carefree, was surprisingly diminished. It was rare that Luca felt humbled, even when dressed as a commoner, but now was one of those times. "It's a long story, but, er, I suppose you could say that I prefer to go about without my title and rank dragging behind me. So I free myself and dress as a working man for a change at times."

He glanced over at Aleera, wondering what she might think of his deception. Kris hadn't even attempted to hide his disgust. Did these two girls feel the same way? In truth, there was more to his guise than just a desire to leave the constraints of nobility; he hated the way that beggars and street folk were treated by their superiors. So, he wanted to help them. Back in Triest, he had joined a small group of robbers - mostly orphans, ones that the world had turned it's back to - who ranged from older than him to young enough to be his own sons. Together, they had conspired to pick-pocket and steal in a variety of ways. Their favourite targets were the men who left the casinos late at night, tipsy and swaggering with pride from their successes at poker and craps. They were often drunk enough that, even the morning after, they would assume that they had somehow misplaced their earnings. Luca smiled to himself at the thought.

Served them right, he murmured to himself. They were the same big cheeses that would go around kicking beggars and pot-handlers like dogs.