andastra
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- Old Guild Username: Andastra
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
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- andastra 11 yrs ago
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Clumsywordsmith
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Recent Statuses
8 yrs ago
Outlander binge... this show is so intense.
8 yrs ago
Back from my small hiatus, ill be sending out replies tommorrow.
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8 yrs ago
My grandmother has passed away I won't be on for a few days thanks for understanding
3
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8 yrs ago
Hey RP friends, Have some family issues going on right now. Family member fell ill quite suddenly. Posts will be slow, please bare with me. Thanks :)
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8 yrs ago
*boops your nose* *boop boop*
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Most Recent Posts
I think I may jump in to grab Nestor I have an idea brewing if that's okay with you clumsy
I will have to post later, I have no internet access at home and only at school so i will try to get something to you soon!
It was indeed, although only because I couldn't find an elvish translator butt... That words too at least someone to understand her... Now I must try to befriend Clifford the big red dog haha :) that's cute though XD
I have to say Dot as much as our characters currently don't get along, your posts are very strong I love reading them !
I have to say Dot as much as our characters currently don't get along, your posts are very strong I love reading them !
I don't like it when giant red dogs growl at me in some weird tounge :s I am scared.
Nestor
Though he stands some distance away now – caught up in his momentary conversation with Veti – you might notice Nestor dart a pensive glance in your direction; his eyes bear the hollow shade of a man who has seen the very precipice of his own destruction: seen it and somehow escaped alive, if not unscathed. And though you are quite certain the words are not meant for you – meant for no one but himself – his own thoughts, as it were, you fancy you can make out a few snippets:
“And what then, Nestor – when it comes to pass? Will you, too, follow with all the others?” The voice is indistinct, wavering – more a chorus of voices than a single speaker, though speaking with one purpose. The man does not appear to answer, though a shadow seems to pass over his face – he turns away from the others, draws a breath, perhaps confirming your suspicions that the voices do, indeed, come from his direction.
“They are all dead, Nestor – you swallowed us up, one by one... Will you do the same now with those who call you 'friend' here?” And then, without warning – provided you have kept eavesdropping on the aimless words all the while – you blink and find yourself... no, not yourself, but as someone else.
I look down, see the tears pouring from a face grief-stricken – but they weep not for the others, not even for herself... but I know they weep for me... We stand somewhere upon the verge of a grassy field, rolling hills tumbling away into a ravine just out of sight -- out of sight, but not out of hearing, and beneath the weeping comes the soft tinkling of a stream from far below...
And then the weeping woman looks toward you, frowns, gasps out in a soft voice:
“And what do you want, Death Girl? That you intrude as though nothing now is sacred any longer...”
Anastasia
Anastasia, her arms still crossed fumed over the actions of the others still. Her body engulfed in what appeared like green flames, she looked up and saw Nestor flashing her a small glance. With that contact it was as if another plane was opened. She tried to listen to the voices she could hear off the distance, making out what seemed to be a womens voice. Closing her eyes she listened in closer trying to understand what she was saying... " swallowed us up, one by one...will you do the same now with those who call you friend... "
Her eyes slowly opened, had he killed many before. He was a demon so the thought would not surprise her, perhaps these voices were of his victims. This man continued to intrigue her , was this something he wished her to help with. It seemed like a blink of an eye and she was given a sort of vision, her head slowly moving up as she looked off into the distance her eyes clouding over white...
Anastasia sees the women, weeping for what appeared to be her. She looked around momentarily seeing the fields and the hills, the sound of water humming in her ears. Then the women looks at her and whispers softly in her saddened state. She had to think for a few moments as she looked at the women, she paused and took a few steps closer to the women.
" I am sorry, I do not wish to intrude... " she replied concerned for the women. " Who are you..." She asked her softly , a look of confusion on her face.
She had been shown visions before, but one such as this was new. Normally the information given to her would allow her to connects the dots, however this one was different. Telling by the fact that she referred to her as Death girl, she knew this women was connected to Nestor in a sense.
Nestor
Wiping the sleeve of her gown against a slim nose, the woman sniffs and rises slowly to her feet – she first peers at you warily, wide-eyed; fraught with the seeming expectation that you might lunge out strike at any moment – seeing you less, perhaps, as a potential friend, more as a deadly serpent lying quietly in wait.
“I... I suppose if you are here, the reason is a good one...” Here she drops her already soft voice, taking a few timid steps toward you, head darting forward and down as she whispers: “Unless... unless -she- sent you... But no, not here!” She tosses her head adamantly from side to side at this; disconcertingly, she appears to have all but ignored your question and response – though after another moment's silence the woman speaks again:
“To know me, you must first know Nestor – but I cannot help you with that. Rather, with what I can I will...” Her words trail off into silence. She takes several paces back, slender arms stretched outward in a broad, sweeping gesture as she exclaims
"Look"
Anastasia
She watched the women take several steps back, she could feel her heart skip with nerves as the future held things she was unsure of. She watched the women intently as she moved her arms in a gesture commanding her to look.
Nestor
And you see the green hills all about – a strangely incongruous wooden easel beneath a tree just to the right (the painting you cannot make out – blurred and indistinct, as though only the first few layers of colour – here and there bleeding away into the edges of a plain sketching -- what was to be a monumental work had as of yet been laid out), and fields near at hand dotted with the creamy outline of grazing sheep, the furred expanse of several dozen head of long-haired cattle browsing contentedly away; the strange remoteness of it all does not strike you until – without any warning – you find yourself assaulted with sight from beyond: to see this tiny little island of vivid life and peace surrounded by endless seas of shifting ice and hulking floes of frozen granite. And then, just as isolation of the place begins to work its way into you, the unnamed woman speaks again.
“Listen!”
And suddenly you hear – hear the soft wind in the grass, whispering gently through the eaves of a brooding forest, over the hillocks of a downy moor, sweeping into the depth of some valley and finally to go plunging down a steep ravine... Hear the wind shatter into a cold shower and spray of shreaking ice and grinding stone, frozen waves battering themselves time and time again upon weakening shores. There are noises in the air – of pain, of suffering... but of laughter too – of joy, the distant echoes of some lost past wrapped up somewhere in the whole of it all. And then speaks for the third time:
“Feel!”
And in that moment you are overwhelmed, all but crushed beneath the weight of a pain so great that it seems almost exquisite in its beauty; of a pain so sublime that it might almost be deemed euphoric – like the instant of plunging an unsuspecting hand into a tub of scalding hot water... the instant when it all feels terribly -cold- before it burns; or the burning feeling of cold upon bare skin.
But then she speaks again, and you find yourself again in the same place – nothing changed, save only the sky – a thick wrack of clouds scudding in over the eastern horizon, the wind beginning to chill.
“You must go now – our time is short. I cannot allow her to find us here. But you...” Here she pauses, gazes steadfastly into your eyes – “But you... if friend you are, will find yourself again here. Ask her – ask the one called 'Wolf Girl' what the words mean:
“A Demon's soul, but a Human's heart...”
Anastasia
Anastasia was pulled out of her vision when Atticus called attention, the thoughts in her mind swimming around, she tried to gather all the information she could. Her attention moved from Sethan back to Nestor. She eyed him in the corner of her eye trying not the gain his attention. She had many visions before but this one... it felt so real, she could feel the pain, smell the salt in the air and the images bounced around in her mind. She felt drawn to him, wanting to learn more to return to the place she had just escaped from.
The women said wolf girl, possibly Veti, she assumed. When atticus instructed them to chose their path she decided that going with Isis would be the smartest choice for her, not only because they would be searching for someone who was dead but she needed to speak to Veti. she figured it would not be easy, she would need to speak with her alone as to not draw attention to her current situation. The reaper would be on the same adventure, she shuttered at the thought of having to work beside such a child. However, she would not be so quick to judge. It was understanding that a reaper would have such a distaste for a necromancer, perhaps people will soon too realize that as a necromancer Anastasia was not one to use her abilities lightly. Not only did she feel the effects physically when calling upon the dead, she did not favor desecrating the dead.
She walked towards Isis , bowing her head slightly " I will be joining this group to get max back" she said as she awaited the others to join. She knew of a few people who might not enjoy her company on this excursion but she played up the I don't care, facade.
Though he stands some distance away now – caught up in his momentary conversation with Veti – you might notice Nestor dart a pensive glance in your direction; his eyes bear the hollow shade of a man who has seen the very precipice of his own destruction: seen it and somehow escaped alive, if not unscathed. And though you are quite certain the words are not meant for you – meant for no one but himself – his own thoughts, as it were, you fancy you can make out a few snippets:
“And what then, Nestor – when it comes to pass? Will you, too, follow with all the others?” The voice is indistinct, wavering – more a chorus of voices than a single speaker, though speaking with one purpose. The man does not appear to answer, though a shadow seems to pass over his face – he turns away from the others, draws a breath, perhaps confirming your suspicions that the voices do, indeed, come from his direction.
“They are all dead, Nestor – you swallowed us up, one by one... Will you do the same now with those who call you 'friend' here?” And then, without warning – provided you have kept eavesdropping on the aimless words all the while – you blink and find yourself... no, not yourself, but as someone else.
I look down, see the tears pouring from a face grief-stricken – but they weep not for the others, not even for herself... but I know they weep for me... We stand somewhere upon the verge of a grassy field, rolling hills tumbling away into a ravine just out of sight -- out of sight, but not out of hearing, and beneath the weeping comes the soft tinkling of a stream from far below...
And then the weeping woman looks toward you, frowns, gasps out in a soft voice:
“And what do you want, Death Girl? That you intrude as though nothing now is sacred any longer...”
Anastasia
Anastasia, her arms still crossed fumed over the actions of the others still. Her body engulfed in what appeared like green flames, she looked up and saw Nestor flashing her a small glance. With that contact it was as if another plane was opened. She tried to listen to the voices she could hear off the distance, making out what seemed to be a womens voice. Closing her eyes she listened in closer trying to understand what she was saying... " swallowed us up, one by one...will you do the same now with those who call you friend... "
Her eyes slowly opened, had he killed many before. He was a demon so the thought would not surprise her, perhaps these voices were of his victims. This man continued to intrigue her , was this something he wished her to help with. It seemed like a blink of an eye and she was given a sort of vision, her head slowly moving up as she looked off into the distance her eyes clouding over white...
Anastasia sees the women, weeping for what appeared to be her. She looked around momentarily seeing the fields and the hills, the sound of water humming in her ears. Then the women looks at her and whispers softly in her saddened state. She had to think for a few moments as she looked at the women, she paused and took a few steps closer to the women.
" I am sorry, I do not wish to intrude... " she replied concerned for the women. " Who are you..." She asked her softly , a look of confusion on her face.
She had been shown visions before, but one such as this was new. Normally the information given to her would allow her to connects the dots, however this one was different. Telling by the fact that she referred to her as Death girl, she knew this women was connected to Nestor in a sense.
Nestor
Wiping the sleeve of her gown against a slim nose, the woman sniffs and rises slowly to her feet – she first peers at you warily, wide-eyed; fraught with the seeming expectation that you might lunge out strike at any moment – seeing you less, perhaps, as a potential friend, more as a deadly serpent lying quietly in wait.
“I... I suppose if you are here, the reason is a good one...” Here she drops her already soft voice, taking a few timid steps toward you, head darting forward and down as she whispers: “Unless... unless -she- sent you... But no, not here!” She tosses her head adamantly from side to side at this; disconcertingly, she appears to have all but ignored your question and response – though after another moment's silence the woman speaks again:
“To know me, you must first know Nestor – but I cannot help you with that. Rather, with what I can I will...” Her words trail off into silence. She takes several paces back, slender arms stretched outward in a broad, sweeping gesture as she exclaims
"Look"
Anastasia
She watched the women take several steps back, she could feel her heart skip with nerves as the future held things she was unsure of. She watched the women intently as she moved her arms in a gesture commanding her to look.
Nestor
And you see the green hills all about – a strangely incongruous wooden easel beneath a tree just to the right (the painting you cannot make out – blurred and indistinct, as though only the first few layers of colour – here and there bleeding away into the edges of a plain sketching -- what was to be a monumental work had as of yet been laid out), and fields near at hand dotted with the creamy outline of grazing sheep, the furred expanse of several dozen head of long-haired cattle browsing contentedly away; the strange remoteness of it all does not strike you until – without any warning – you find yourself assaulted with sight from beyond: to see this tiny little island of vivid life and peace surrounded by endless seas of shifting ice and hulking floes of frozen granite. And then, just as isolation of the place begins to work its way into you, the unnamed woman speaks again.
“Listen!”
And suddenly you hear – hear the soft wind in the grass, whispering gently through the eaves of a brooding forest, over the hillocks of a downy moor, sweeping into the depth of some valley and finally to go plunging down a steep ravine... Hear the wind shatter into a cold shower and spray of shreaking ice and grinding stone, frozen waves battering themselves time and time again upon weakening shores. There are noises in the air – of pain, of suffering... but of laughter too – of joy, the distant echoes of some lost past wrapped up somewhere in the whole of it all. And then speaks for the third time:
“Feel!”
And in that moment you are overwhelmed, all but crushed beneath the weight of a pain so great that it seems almost exquisite in its beauty; of a pain so sublime that it might almost be deemed euphoric – like the instant of plunging an unsuspecting hand into a tub of scalding hot water... the instant when it all feels terribly -cold- before it burns; or the burning feeling of cold upon bare skin.
But then she speaks again, and you find yourself again in the same place – nothing changed, save only the sky – a thick wrack of clouds scudding in over the eastern horizon, the wind beginning to chill.
“You must go now – our time is short. I cannot allow her to find us here. But you...” Here she pauses, gazes steadfastly into your eyes – “But you... if friend you are, will find yourself again here. Ask her – ask the one called 'Wolf Girl' what the words mean:
“A Demon's soul, but a Human's heart...”
Anastasia
Anastasia was pulled out of her vision when Atticus called attention, the thoughts in her mind swimming around, she tried to gather all the information she could. Her attention moved from Sethan back to Nestor. She eyed him in the corner of her eye trying not the gain his attention. She had many visions before but this one... it felt so real, she could feel the pain, smell the salt in the air and the images bounced around in her mind. She felt drawn to him, wanting to learn more to return to the place she had just escaped from.
The women said wolf girl, possibly Veti, she assumed. When atticus instructed them to chose their path she decided that going with Isis would be the smartest choice for her, not only because they would be searching for someone who was dead but she needed to speak to Veti. she figured it would not be easy, she would need to speak with her alone as to not draw attention to her current situation. The reaper would be on the same adventure, she shuttered at the thought of having to work beside such a child. However, she would not be so quick to judge. It was understanding that a reaper would have such a distaste for a necromancer, perhaps people will soon too realize that as a necromancer Anastasia was not one to use her abilities lightly. Not only did she feel the effects physically when calling upon the dead, she did not favor desecrating the dead.
She walked towards Isis , bowing her head slightly " I will be joining this group to get max back" she said as she awaited the others to join. She knew of a few people who might not enjoy her company on this excursion but she played up the I don't care, facade.
Clumsywordsmith said
Think I'm going to get home from work today and drown this head cold in tea; other than that everything is just peachy.
Hope you feel better :(
DotCom said
Hehehehehehe
That's amazing
Sulking in her anger towards the current situation she was blinded by anything else going on around her. She didn't notice Sethan walking up behind her but she was pulled out of her sulking state when she felt a large hand on her tiny shoulders. Tensing even more at the touch she felt her body being pulled into a rather large male who stood behind her. she sucked her breath in as she felt his thumbs working into her back, truthfully she never felt anything better. she felt his large hands massaging her trying to get rid of the tense feeling that flooded her body. She felt her shoulders relax as her arms which were crossed dropped down in front of her as he body turned into butter.
She rolled her shoulders as she could feel the green mist disappeared. She as overly grateful for who ever this mysterious person was. She felt his hands dropped and wrap around her, instinctively she squirmed trying to get out of his grasp but he was much larger then her and fighting it was making it difficult. It took her a few moments to realize he was hugging her...embracing her. Truthfully she had never been embraced, hugging was a taboo in elven communities. They had different ways of showing any for of affection or greeting to other people.
she could feel her body tense more then before as he hugged her, unsure of how to respond she looked around a bit confused. Was this normal?
She relaxed once more when he spoke to her his words showed a form of comfort to her. She smiled at him an nodded lightly, as her hair faded from black into its white natural form.
She gave him a small smile , one that showed much gratitude.
" I did not realize when i was requested to accompany this journey , how much baggage they all carry. It is quite infuriating seeing so many loose ties, and unjustified anger towards people whom they have never laid eyes upon."
She took a deep breath and released it slowly.
" I thank you kind sir, it was getting harder to keep my powers at bay... I am afraid I am not familiar with your name, mine is Anastasia...the necromancer."
She left out her being an elf purposefully, she hated being known as an elf.
Haha!
Not going to lie, was taken aback by that... not expecting it! lets see what shall happen.
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