*sighs* Why, oh why, do I bother with this RPG anymore....why oh why. -- Death Valley

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Date Posted: 00:45:25 06/05/03 Thu
Author: Hannah
Subject: *sighs* Why, oh why, do I bother with this RPG anymore....why oh why.
In reply to: Roxy 's message, ".boredom post, but long and mayhaps interesting--give it a click." on 00:30:46 06/01/03 Sun

>And again
>in a timely fashion the night dissipated beyond,
>allowing the heavens to penetrate in regulated
>subterfuge. In this shattering penetration, the
>dawning effulgence seemed to penetrate even Roxy�s
>mind. A deluge of blinding spotlight had seeped
>across the desolate foundation and taken the
>plantation in a blinding, congenial embrace to the
>satisfaction of the growing waif. She much preferred
>the illumination and its embrace; compared to the
>clouds blanketing the heavens in its sultry embrace
>and smashing forth torrentials of hell, tearing trees
>from nimble roots and wafting them across the air with
>a deadly force. Leaving the lands strewn and disowned
>barbarically riveted and gnashed by the mighty teeth
>from the scornful squall, changing in one fold of ruby
>eyelids.
>

>Though that can be entertaining too.
>

>Just in the preceding days the labyrinth had been
>malleable due to the dispelling rime, leaving the
>heavens caliginous and drawing the landscape into a
>protean, grayscale lull. Yet the female had still
>enjoyed the tap floor beneath her, leaving a nocturne
>and unnaturally hollow beats as her tiny, poised frame
>clicked nonchalantly across the melancholia
>surroundings. The celestial orb of light had
>prevented anymore lackluster continuance, however, and
>slowly thawed the hummocks into the summer months,
>allowing the verdancy to spread as wildfire. And as
>the lands had once been, damp, quaffed with a minimal
>drag of water to rejuvenate the parched domain, the
>sun and removed this bountiful presence of elixir and
>became unyielding. The sky turned a blinding azure,
>cumulous drug across the zephyr with lazy splotches.
>The female pulled a sardonic frame into a more
>articulate rhythm, internal beat working her muscles
>with feverish precision. Perspiration began to form
>in nagging rivulets across the ruby hide, quartering
>the deeper muscles with a lather that gave the melodic
>stray a scintillating appearance in the arid
>afternoon. Perhaps one of her age would be subdued
>to the stereotype of a more fatigued frame after her
>time of travel, but the months of antagonization from
>passing hours had pushed her to forming a more taut
>demeanor. The prodigious thespian tossed a gaudy
>orifice, positioned atop a prodigious truss, exhaling
>with a snort in some hopes to bring a belligerent mood
>or placate; consequently, it merely antagonized the
>willowy form and sought vexation. Stygian orbs were
>shattered feebly by the onsite of incoming tresses;
>nevertheless, they were able to deliver a brilliantly
>effective glare to memorize and antagonize the
>entourage. With a curt tuck of wafting appendages
>the female quaintly popped over the fallen arbor,
>which lay as a tombstone without an etching, throwing
>a wink and a bow to the crowd in the dark. The
>incessant circulation kept her feeble physique sward
>with flare, adroit mind feeding off of the stage and
>crowd as writhing power.
>

>She retired to a comatose gait, regarding now the
>audience, her audience as a morbidly involved part of
>her choler. It was part of her, as a dramatician, if
>she could even be called such. Metaphorically she
>fingered the pearls about her neck, blinking long
>eyelashes and puckering ruby lips, gallivanting around
>seductively in little slips of sequined fringe; but
>behind an equine cover there was only so much the
>female could do. Her eyes shown for Broadway, and
>her body shone for the street corners; not in the
>sense of unfortunate ness, but in the sense of
>voluptuousness. A stage whore, perhaps, if that word
>can be used; when she wasn�t on it, she longed for it.
> Not necessarily the attention, but the atmosphere.
>There she was, in her own utopian atmosphere,
>flouncing about backstage and throwing dashing smiles
>to the bystanders, getting the nods, silently mouthing
>the routine which she had so intricately practiced
>over the preceding nights solo. Buckling those
>character shoes, adorning those ears with earrings,
>draping those copious pearls around her eloquent neck.
> Microphone cracking, piano player glistening with
>beads of persperation as a cigarette hung partly out
>of a furrowed lip, the lights would rise and there�d
>Roxy be, standing in all of her petty glory out into
>the dark spectators with illuminated eyes. It was a
>burning hunger, which writhed inside of every breath
>she took; the passion came without rhyme or reason,
>but it existed reguardless.
>

>Nevertheless, there were sparse moments where the
>jazz-attic needed to ebb away from humanity and spend
>a moment as cellophane; her soliloquy to the people,
>perhaps. So she could perch in the rafters, behind
>the lush velvet curtains and watch the members flee in
>exodus, a mollified cacophony as the proceedings were
>discussed. She watched them with a gaze of
>alloy�diligent, and intently espying the assembled
>miscellany of cohorts. She drew a feminine frame from
>the burlaps of obscurity, oozing from beneath the
>recesses of night and into the blanched light, beneath
>the wavering heat with the rest of the sinners. What
>anathema! In a pure of ire set alight inside the
>charred, lurid eyes, again her hooves flew with a
>thundering rhythm across the topography, removing her
>from the murky depths of the brackish solitude. She
>cavorted with a delinquent performance, throwing off
>the professional air and choosing to remove a
>chagrined overbearing through her dinning limbs,
>inciting self-veneration for the ideal execution of a
>nimble frame.
>

>Her body was physically feebled by the reflection of
>intricate of physiques back into erratic orbs. The
>forms lingered about the royalty and its subjects,
>watching the esurience of their adrenaline as the
>hierarchy nonchalantly tossed portentous sentence.
>She ostracized the though of the grubby, haughty
>formed in one feeble inhalation. She worked as a
>egotistical sedative�enduing herself with a phlegmatic
>calm when she felt the need necessary. From the crux
>of her blackened soul there was something internal,
>able to be triggered as a time bomb, surging from the
>depths of the sinewy entity and calming the senses and
>appeasing the rigid thought.
>

>Perhaps though, when the ambiguity of the
>psuedo-valium subsides it would be time for her to
>actually�gasp�integrate. Poor Roxy. Not that she
>couldn�t do with more than a seductive stage appeal;
>something had to mean more to her than a hot piano and
>cold gin. Whatever had estranged her at birth had
>contradictingly birthed her for the stage; so despite
>her yearn for solemnity she possessed enough charisma
>to continue a gambit with ease. Eyes a conflagration
>of mahogany and charcoal, and a smile toying with an
>electrically stained orifice she looked about to those
>perhaps looking for a neutral ploy. Her acidic tongue
>perhaps would be a downfall; a sardonic humor left her
>to draw others down without a moments hesitation,
>using it as a prized tool; a scythe, if you will.
>

>She was a character, Roxy�endowed with crude charisma,
>disregarded verbal etiquette but praised the physical
>with overriding adulation. Oppositely uncouth, but
>bluntly honest, she was ready to converse with someone
>who could match wits.
>

>C�mon, someone, anyone. Give her a run for her money.
>
>

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[> big brother is watching YOU -- Big Brother, 00:35:47 06/07/03 Sat [1]

The lean, dark stallion appears once more at the verge of the territory. The ominous stallion True Evil had passed from this alter real world, and now Big Brother had returned to torment the inhabitants. His dark contemplative eyes stared out cooly beneath a dark shock of ebon forelock that fell haphazardly over one eye. A tremor ran through his chest as he emitted a low whicker, one that dictated 'halt'.

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