Darcs Member
Madama Witch
kapuchuStatus
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7 yrs ago
WHO DAT BOY, 911
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8 yrs ago
Stop and frisk me, daddy. Unf.
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9 yrs ago
Organize a strike in your school or workplace on the grounds that it does not satisfy your need for indolence & spiritual beauty.
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Most Recent Posts
You suddenly find yourselves on a boat with a strange and fat Hispanic man, what do?
The Present Day, August 2016:
"Now! Today's Weather!"
"The report seems to indicate that today we will, in fact, have fog! More fog the more west you are on our little island paradise, with amounts in the east so thin, you'll swear there isn't even any fog!"
"But there is ALWAYS fog, my fellow Puerto Librens. Do NOT believe anyone who says there is no fog-- if you do find an unfortunate soul who believes they've found a place without our lovely fog, please, do them, yourself, and our community a favor and report them to Sheriff Rodriguez or one of his many, many lovely Deputies-- IMMEDIATELY."
"Well, then. In other news-- The News!"
"Speaking of Sheriff Rodriguez and his many unnamed Deputies, we have a new police report, apparently after three weeks of no communication, the Puerto Libren police and Sheriff Rodriguez feel safe in declaring another person missing, this is, of course, the most recent in a string of disappearances occurring the last few months."
"The Deputy Detectives have released a public statement in regards to this, saying that they do believe the disappearances are related, and are being orchestrated by a singular party. Good job boys!"
"If you were wondering how you could help... Well... As with ALL missing persons, the Puerto Libren Police seem adamant on not releasing any information regarding the victims, and no families have come forward... Sooo... Just keep an eye out for someone who looks missing? All we've received are initials, the most recent being 'M. M.'"
"If you have a first and last that start with the letter 'M' you should head over to the Puerto Libre Police Department-- you might be missing!"
"Moving on to something lighter... have some music to go with that morning coffee."
Mary Beaulieu mumbled to herself as she walked back and forth, the fresh morning light only now pouring into the lobby of Catalina Academy. Saying she was the first one up would be giving her far too much credit. She hadn't slept a wink. If you knew Mary this wasn't that surprising, she did this every year, every new batch of students, it was almost like she enjoyed getting hopped up on the shitty coffee of the lobby and pacing around.
"Merde... Merde... Merde..."
A young man, early 20's emerged from a boor behind the large oaken front desk that sat across from the entrance of the academy, Mary skirted past his vision as he yawned, the concierge uniform he wore still only partially buttoned up. He simply leaned against the desk with sleep in his eyes and traced her motions with his head, stifling another yawn.
"Won't make 'em get here any faster, y'know." A Spanish accent bleeding though, he lazily rested his head on his arm. Only turning slightly to watch her backside as she she rushed past him again, her heels clacking hard against the marble floor only to be silenced by the carpet of the lounges.
"Oui!"
Her answer was calculated and concise, with no hesitation in her voice. Despite this, her hand was shaking holding onto what must have been her 8th cup of black coffee. The Concierge, meanwhile, lazily fitted the blue cap over his bedhead.
"Okay... And you're just gonna... keep on goin'?"
"Oui!"
He answered immediately with a yawn, "Right then..." He gave in to his desire and let his head collapse onto his folded arms, "More sleep for me then, wake me when the exchange kids get here..."
"...Merde... Merde... Merde..."
Max. Jenny. Emma. Dana. Lawrence.
Che looked at each person sitting on the bench across from him, he didn't consider himself the best counselor in the world, not by far. But he prided himself on his ability to face names with faces almost instantly. It was why he usually got assigned to help acclimate the exchange kids to island life, after doing it for a few years, he had gotten petty good at it, and, taking advantage that the ferry hadn't left dock yet, he cleared his throat and began his time tested 'opening speech.'
"Alright, so, early, I know, just deal with this and Mary's briefing and you'll be free to do whatever until Tuesday."
He cleared his throat again before continuing, "So, as you already know, I'm Che Santiago, call me Mr. Santiago, Cherry if you're feeling casual, or preferably, just Che, no relation to Che Guevara," he did his scripted fake laugh at the old joke, "I'm your uhh..." He quickly air-quoted, "'Counselor' for the year. Really that means, anything not directly related to school work, you come to me about it. I like to think I'm pretty good at my job, I'll try to help you out. I'll also be helping you with tangential learning outside of school and all that jazz,"
He feigned thought. He did this every time, to him it kept things light and casual, "Yeah, that's about it unless you have any questions, otherwise you can go back to sleep, or talk amongst yourselves or whatever, these ferrys leave every 15 minutes and take about that long to get across the straight."
Che looked at the group of young adults with a mild interest, half-asleep himself, "How was the flight?"
"Now! Today's Weather!"
"The report seems to indicate that today we will, in fact, have fog! More fog the more west you are on our little island paradise, with amounts in the east so thin, you'll swear there isn't even any fog!"
"But there is ALWAYS fog, my fellow Puerto Librens. Do NOT believe anyone who says there is no fog-- if you do find an unfortunate soul who believes they've found a place without our lovely fog, please, do them, yourself, and our community a favor and report them to Sheriff Rodriguez or one of his many, many lovely Deputies-- IMMEDIATELY."
"Well, then. In other news-- The News!"
"Speaking of Sheriff Rodriguez and his many unnamed Deputies, we have a new police report, apparently after three weeks of no communication, the Puerto Libren police and Sheriff Rodriguez feel safe in declaring another person missing, this is, of course, the most recent in a string of disappearances occurring the last few months."
"The Deputy Detectives have released a public statement in regards to this, saying that they do believe the disappearances are related, and are being orchestrated by a singular party. Good job boys!"
"If you were wondering how you could help... Well... As with ALL missing persons, the Puerto Libren Police seem adamant on not releasing any information regarding the victims, and no families have come forward... Sooo... Just keep an eye out for someone who looks missing? All we've received are initials, the most recent being 'M. M.'"
"If you have a first and last that start with the letter 'M' you should head over to the Puerto Libre Police Department-- you might be missing!"
"Moving on to something lighter... have some music to go with that morning coffee."
Mary Beaulieu mumbled to herself as she walked back and forth, the fresh morning light only now pouring into the lobby of Catalina Academy. Saying she was the first one up would be giving her far too much credit. She hadn't slept a wink. If you knew Mary this wasn't that surprising, she did this every year, every new batch of students, it was almost like she enjoyed getting hopped up on the shitty coffee of the lobby and pacing around.
"Merde... Merde... Merde..."
A young man, early 20's emerged from a boor behind the large oaken front desk that sat across from the entrance of the academy, Mary skirted past his vision as he yawned, the concierge uniform he wore still only partially buttoned up. He simply leaned against the desk with sleep in his eyes and traced her motions with his head, stifling another yawn.
"Won't make 'em get here any faster, y'know." A Spanish accent bleeding though, he lazily rested his head on his arm. Only turning slightly to watch her backside as she she rushed past him again, her heels clacking hard against the marble floor only to be silenced by the carpet of the lounges.
"Oui!"
Her answer was calculated and concise, with no hesitation in her voice. Despite this, her hand was shaking holding onto what must have been her 8th cup of black coffee. The Concierge, meanwhile, lazily fitted the blue cap over his bedhead.
"Okay... And you're just gonna... keep on goin'?"
"Oui!"
He answered immediately with a yawn, "Right then..." He gave in to his desire and let his head collapse onto his folded arms, "More sleep for me then, wake me when the exchange kids get here..."
"...Merde... Merde... Merde..."
Max. Jenny. Emma. Dana. Lawrence.
Che looked at each person sitting on the bench across from him, he didn't consider himself the best counselor in the world, not by far. But he prided himself on his ability to face names with faces almost instantly. It was why he usually got assigned to help acclimate the exchange kids to island life, after doing it for a few years, he had gotten petty good at it, and, taking advantage that the ferry hadn't left dock yet, he cleared his throat and began his time tested 'opening speech.'
"Alright, so, early, I know, just deal with this and Mary's briefing and you'll be free to do whatever until Tuesday."
He cleared his throat again before continuing, "So, as you already know, I'm Che Santiago, call me Mr. Santiago, Cherry if you're feeling casual, or preferably, just Che, no relation to Che Guevara," he did his scripted fake laugh at the old joke, "I'm your uhh..." He quickly air-quoted, "'Counselor' for the year. Really that means, anything not directly related to school work, you come to me about it. I like to think I'm pretty good at my job, I'll try to help you out. I'll also be helping you with tangential learning outside of school and all that jazz,"
He feigned thought. He did this every time, to him it kept things light and casual, "Yeah, that's about it unless you have any questions, otherwise you can go back to sleep, or talk amongst yourselves or whatever, these ferrys leave every 15 minutes and take about that long to get across the straight."
Che looked at the group of young adults with a mild interest, half-asleep himself, "How was the flight?"
Prologue:
The Devil, The Sun, The World, 11 years ago
Lawrence Nesbitt, the child brimming with innocence, as of yet untainted by the world, smiles and looks up at his father as the turn down an alleyway to take a shortcut getting home.
The Fool, The Empress, Wheel of Fortune, three weeks ago
"Si ce ne était pas plus longtemps, vous pourriez marcher autour nue!"
The words splashed around in Marcelle Marcoux's mind as she herself splashed around in shallow water, a self-conscious voice in the back of her head telling her that the comment made by her sister was merely a jab a the length of her hair, not advice to be taken seriously. Still, there was something about the openness of nudity here that felt natural to her, comforting, in a way she couldn't quite understand.
Perhaps it was also that she knew she was alone? It was barely 6, no tourists would be flocking to the beach anytime soon, that, and the silvery mist protecting her form from being observed by the hungry eyes of any errant passerby's, looking to ogle at the young French heiresses nude form. If she was to be honest with herself (which she wouldn't be), she wasn't sure she cared. She didn't think she cared that she was displaying her spreadeagled naked body for whomever might lurk in the fog, She didn't care if her hair was long enough or not.
Her hair was long enough.
The Hermit, The Magician, The Moon, yesterday
The old valise was perhaps a little too full, Max conceded as he strained to close it, the springs of his bed creaking as he pushed down on the lid. Still, he was obstinately determined to make this one suitcase work. He didn't want to bring any more luggage than he had to.
There was a gentle tap at his door, and Max's father poked his head inside. He was a gentle, soft-spoken man with warm eyes and a graying walrus mustache, and yet Max didn't particularly want to see or speak to him. "All packed?" the older man asked quietly.
"Yeah, Dad," Max grunted as he wrestled down the lid a final time and struggled with the straps on the suitcase.
"You sure I can't give you a ride to the airport?"
"Armando's dropping me off. He should be here soon."
"Tell him to be careful driving up there. The I-5 can be a real pain in the keister this time of day." The older man hovered uncertainly in the doorway, unsure of how to say what he wanted to say next.
Max looked at his father curiously as he struggled with the old leather suitcase. "Is there something else?"
The man shrugged. "Look, son, I just wanted to say I'm proud of you and I love you. And- and I think if your mom was here she'd be proud too." He shuffled awkwardly, reaching into his pocket for something. "I've been planning to give this to you for a long time, I was just never sure when. It's hard to know the right time, when you have kids you'll understand that. I thought maybe your thirteenth birthday, but I didn't think you'd be old enough to understand. Then I thought last Hanukkah, but. . ." his voice trailed off.
"You missed last Hanukkah," Max said coldly. "You were down in El Centro with your Dreamer buddies. Looking for- what was it? El Chupacabra? Or was it the ghost lights again?"
"Well, to be fair, Hanukkah isn't even one of the High Holidays," the old man tried to joke. He could see his attempt at humor was not appreciated, and cleared his throat. "Anyways, I've carried this a long time for you, because rightfully you should have it. Do you remember this?" He extended his hand. Within his palm was a smaller palm, made of ornate and carefully polished silver. A Hand of Miriam.
Max looked closely, hardly believing his eyes. "Wasn't that Mom's? She wore it around her neck, right?"
The older man nodded. "She wanted me to give it to you when the time was right. Take it, wear it around your neck, many Sephardim do. They say it protects you from demons and the evil eye."
Max took the talisman, looped the chain around his neck. "Thanks, Dad, I don't know what to say. Something to remember Mom by." His gratitude was genuine. He remembered the trinket vaguely from his childhood, so long ago, but had never really thought to wonder what had happened to it in the years since. "I don't know about the evil eye bit, but I do appreciate this."
The old man shrugged. "The evil eye might be real. I don't know just yet. Just do me one favor, son. Let me know about anything. . . weird on that island, alright? You know how your old dad likes his spooky stories."
Max arched an eyebrow at this. "Dad, is this one of your schemes to prove to me the supernatural exists?" he said, only half-joking.
His father shrugged lightly. "A man's got to believe in something bigger than himself, son." A car horn sounded outside their house. "That must be Armando. You'd better get going, Maximilian. I'd hate for you to miss your flight."
The Fool, The Empress, Wheel of Fortune, three weeks ago
Her coffee brown locks were long enough that any passerby probably thought she was on some weird floatation device, or something. The self conscious part of her mind, the part reminding her that she was naked on the shore of family oriented beach, was soon drowned out by the apathy that had consumed her as of late. Marcelle was anxious. Anxious about having to inherent her father's legacy, having to he lead all those rich connards. Anxious and filled to the brim with drugs. She placed another... thing... onto her tongue. She wasn't sure if it was DMT or MDMA, but it kept her up, it kept her content to no think about what might be the first time she'd ever experienced stress in her life.
Marcelle was raised in the micro-community that was Henry's Estates. To her, and to it's some 4,000 residents, Crescent island was all of the known world, and Puerto Libre was some foreign country, to exploit in some way or another. Her entire life, the gated community was her home, and the foggy and exclusive beaches of PL, her vacation spot, she had been raised so as to have to never experience what it was to suffer... As a result, she has no clue what happiness is.
The Chariot, Strength, Judgment, a few months ago
There was a knock on her door. "Come in." What did Jenny have to hide? As far as she was concerned, nothing. The door slowly swung open, and her mother walked in. There was nothing she could complain about, really - Jenny's room was basically as tidy as ever. Her shelf of audio books were maybe collecting a bit of dust, but she had important things to focus on. Research-y things. Her mother had always pushed her to pursue more interests, and she'd gotten her wish. That said, Jenny wasn't surprised to hear her mother sigh, and she tried to ignore it. Most of the topics she was checking now, sadly, were in text-based format, and it was read or suffer though a computer voice. Reading required a little more of her focus.
"Jennifer, why are you wasting your time on this, of all things?" Well, that was unnecessary. Jennifer closed her laptop, lest her mother see exactly what she was reading, and turned to see her mother looking at the newest addition to her room: a cork board, with printed articles and trimmed selections pinned to its surface. All, of course, about the island of Puerto Libre. "For a boy who moved? You could do better."
"It's not about Randolph, Mom." That didn't seem to lift her mother's mood any and, well, admittedly that wasn't entirely true. Yeah, other factors played into this, the reason she was using up a fair amount of ink and paper, but it couldn't be denied that she would have never bothered looking into it if he was still around. "Their school is internationally known for its excellence, and it's not like it'd be more expensive than anywhere else I'd look." Though if she let her mother read into the articles she was currently reading, those reports of excellence would likely be questioned. "Besides, I'm just looking into it. I never said I was going."
"Es un gran esfuerzo por sólo 'interés'." Jennifer was fairly certain her mother had said those words. She understood them. Instead of responding to them, though, she watched her mother take down the board and leave the room with it. If she was lucky, her mother was borrowing it to read the articles closely and perhaps understand that this wasn't one of her typical rash decisions. If not, well, Jenny had moved onto a new topic.
She opened her laptop back up and resumed her reading about the odd fog the western part of Puerto Libre seemed well known for.
The Fool, The Empress, Wheel of Fortune, three weeks ago
Apparently she had taken some downers! Marcelle finds herself able to move less and less in the still orange dawn water eventually giving up the endeavor entirely, deciding the struggle isn't worth ruining whatever high the mystery drug she had taken would give her.
As she stared into the lightly purple sky, she could see her own smiling reflection.
The Hanged Man, The Lovers, The Star, a few days ago
"We need to talk, Jess," Dana started as soon as he had walked in the door. Jess was a mixed race girl, a little younger than he was. She was sitting on her small apartment's one and only couch, raising a glass pipe and a lighter to her lips. She glanced up at him as he walked in.
"So talk," she said before putting the pipe back to her lips. Dana strode across the room to her and wrapped his hand around the pipe. She lifted the lighter and clicked it anyway. Dana withdrew his hand with a wince, and Jess raised an eyebrow as if to say "that's what you get."
Dana held his burned hand as he watched her light the pipe. "I got accepted to that school."
Jess finally put the pipe down. "I thought you were joking about that shit..."
"I wasn't, I'm not," he said shortly, "I'm going, it's over."
"What the fuck?" She shouted, standing up as he turned back toward the door. "You think you're too good for me now or something?"
Dana stood with his hand on the door for a moment, and then turned, exploding. "Yes! I am so much more than the smoking, and the drinking! And the bullshit! I tried to get you to quit, but you always find a way to bring me down to your level! I'm sick of it."
He turned back to the door, and she hurled the pipe against the wall, where it shattered. "If you leave, I'll overdose. I'll kill myself!"
Dana held a shaking hand on he door knob for a moment longer, and said over his shoulder, "I'm sick of the emotional abuse too. I'm not responsible for your actions." And he walked out.
The Fool, The Empress, Wheel of Fortune, three weeks ago
Marcelle couldn't react-- she could barely keep her eyes open-- all she could process was the shadowy figure moving over her and a rough hand closing her drooling mouth, tht was all she could process before the darkness came.
The High Priestess and Temperance, several months ago
A letter addressed to Emma Fields is sent via overnight express, the first, with an authentic hand signature to prove it. While the name of the academy it is sent from is written clearly on the envelope, there is no return address.
The Devil, The Sun, The World, 11 years ago
Lawrence Nesbitt, the child brimming with innocence, as of yet untainted by the world, smiles and looks up at his father as the turn down an alleyway to take a shortcut getting home.
The Fool, The Empress, Wheel of Fortune, three weeks ago
"Si ce ne était pas plus longtemps, vous pourriez marcher autour nue!"
The words splashed around in Marcelle Marcoux's mind as she herself splashed around in shallow water, a self-conscious voice in the back of her head telling her that the comment made by her sister was merely a jab a the length of her hair, not advice to be taken seriously. Still, there was something about the openness of nudity here that felt natural to her, comforting, in a way she couldn't quite understand.
Perhaps it was also that she knew she was alone? It was barely 6, no tourists would be flocking to the beach anytime soon, that, and the silvery mist protecting her form from being observed by the hungry eyes of any errant passerby's, looking to ogle at the young French heiresses nude form. If she was to be honest with herself (which she wouldn't be), she wasn't sure she cared. She didn't think she cared that she was displaying her spreadeagled naked body for whomever might lurk in the fog, She didn't care if her hair was long enough or not.
Her hair was long enough.
The Hermit, The Magician, The Moon, yesterday
The old valise was perhaps a little too full, Max conceded as he strained to close it, the springs of his bed creaking as he pushed down on the lid. Still, he was obstinately determined to make this one suitcase work. He didn't want to bring any more luggage than he had to.
There was a gentle tap at his door, and Max's father poked his head inside. He was a gentle, soft-spoken man with warm eyes and a graying walrus mustache, and yet Max didn't particularly want to see or speak to him. "All packed?" the older man asked quietly.
"Yeah, Dad," Max grunted as he wrestled down the lid a final time and struggled with the straps on the suitcase.
"You sure I can't give you a ride to the airport?"
"Armando's dropping me off. He should be here soon."
"Tell him to be careful driving up there. The I-5 can be a real pain in the keister this time of day." The older man hovered uncertainly in the doorway, unsure of how to say what he wanted to say next.
Max looked at his father curiously as he struggled with the old leather suitcase. "Is there something else?"
The man shrugged. "Look, son, I just wanted to say I'm proud of you and I love you. And- and I think if your mom was here she'd be proud too." He shuffled awkwardly, reaching into his pocket for something. "I've been planning to give this to you for a long time, I was just never sure when. It's hard to know the right time, when you have kids you'll understand that. I thought maybe your thirteenth birthday, but I didn't think you'd be old enough to understand. Then I thought last Hanukkah, but. . ." his voice trailed off.
"You missed last Hanukkah," Max said coldly. "You were down in El Centro with your Dreamer buddies. Looking for- what was it? El Chupacabra? Or was it the ghost lights again?"
"Well, to be fair, Hanukkah isn't even one of the High Holidays," the old man tried to joke. He could see his attempt at humor was not appreciated, and cleared his throat. "Anyways, I've carried this a long time for you, because rightfully you should have it. Do you remember this?" He extended his hand. Within his palm was a smaller palm, made of ornate and carefully polished silver. A Hand of Miriam.
Max looked closely, hardly believing his eyes. "Wasn't that Mom's? She wore it around her neck, right?"
The older man nodded. "She wanted me to give it to you when the time was right. Take it, wear it around your neck, many Sephardim do. They say it protects you from demons and the evil eye."
Max took the talisman, looped the chain around his neck. "Thanks, Dad, I don't know what to say. Something to remember Mom by." His gratitude was genuine. He remembered the trinket vaguely from his childhood, so long ago, but had never really thought to wonder what had happened to it in the years since. "I don't know about the evil eye bit, but I do appreciate this."
The old man shrugged. "The evil eye might be real. I don't know just yet. Just do me one favor, son. Let me know about anything. . . weird on that island, alright? You know how your old dad likes his spooky stories."
Max arched an eyebrow at this. "Dad, is this one of your schemes to prove to me the supernatural exists?" he said, only half-joking.
His father shrugged lightly. "A man's got to believe in something bigger than himself, son." A car horn sounded outside their house. "That must be Armando. You'd better get going, Maximilian. I'd hate for you to miss your flight."
The Fool, The Empress, Wheel of Fortune, three weeks ago
Her coffee brown locks were long enough that any passerby probably thought she was on some weird floatation device, or something. The self conscious part of her mind, the part reminding her that she was naked on the shore of family oriented beach, was soon drowned out by the apathy that had consumed her as of late. Marcelle was anxious. Anxious about having to inherent her father's legacy, having to he lead all those rich connards. Anxious and filled to the brim with drugs. She placed another... thing... onto her tongue. She wasn't sure if it was DMT or MDMA, but it kept her up, it kept her content to no think about what might be the first time she'd ever experienced stress in her life.
Marcelle was raised in the micro-community that was Henry's Estates. To her, and to it's some 4,000 residents, Crescent island was all of the known world, and Puerto Libre was some foreign country, to exploit in some way or another. Her entire life, the gated community was her home, and the foggy and exclusive beaches of PL, her vacation spot, she had been raised so as to have to never experience what it was to suffer... As a result, she has no clue what happiness is.
The Chariot, Strength, Judgment, a few months ago
There was a knock on her door. "Come in." What did Jenny have to hide? As far as she was concerned, nothing. The door slowly swung open, and her mother walked in. There was nothing she could complain about, really - Jenny's room was basically as tidy as ever. Her shelf of audio books were maybe collecting a bit of dust, but she had important things to focus on. Research-y things. Her mother had always pushed her to pursue more interests, and she'd gotten her wish. That said, Jenny wasn't surprised to hear her mother sigh, and she tried to ignore it. Most of the topics she was checking now, sadly, were in text-based format, and it was read or suffer though a computer voice. Reading required a little more of her focus.
"Jennifer, why are you wasting your time on this, of all things?" Well, that was unnecessary. Jennifer closed her laptop, lest her mother see exactly what she was reading, and turned to see her mother looking at the newest addition to her room: a cork board, with printed articles and trimmed selections pinned to its surface. All, of course, about the island of Puerto Libre. "For a boy who moved? You could do better."
"It's not about Randolph, Mom." That didn't seem to lift her mother's mood any and, well, admittedly that wasn't entirely true. Yeah, other factors played into this, the reason she was using up a fair amount of ink and paper, but it couldn't be denied that she would have never bothered looking into it if he was still around. "Their school is internationally known for its excellence, and it's not like it'd be more expensive than anywhere else I'd look." Though if she let her mother read into the articles she was currently reading, those reports of excellence would likely be questioned. "Besides, I'm just looking into it. I never said I was going."
"Es un gran esfuerzo por sólo 'interés'." Jennifer was fairly certain her mother had said those words. She understood them. Instead of responding to them, though, she watched her mother take down the board and leave the room with it. If she was lucky, her mother was borrowing it to read the articles closely and perhaps understand that this wasn't one of her typical rash decisions. If not, well, Jenny had moved onto a new topic.
She opened her laptop back up and resumed her reading about the odd fog the western part of Puerto Libre seemed well known for.
The Fool, The Empress, Wheel of Fortune, three weeks ago
Apparently she had taken some downers! Marcelle finds herself able to move less and less in the still orange dawn water eventually giving up the endeavor entirely, deciding the struggle isn't worth ruining whatever high the mystery drug she had taken would give her.
As she stared into the lightly purple sky, she could see her own smiling reflection.
The Hanged Man, The Lovers, The Star, a few days ago
"We need to talk, Jess," Dana started as soon as he had walked in the door. Jess was a mixed race girl, a little younger than he was. She was sitting on her small apartment's one and only couch, raising a glass pipe and a lighter to her lips. She glanced up at him as he walked in.
"So talk," she said before putting the pipe back to her lips. Dana strode across the room to her and wrapped his hand around the pipe. She lifted the lighter and clicked it anyway. Dana withdrew his hand with a wince, and Jess raised an eyebrow as if to say "that's what you get."
Dana held his burned hand as he watched her light the pipe. "I got accepted to that school."
Jess finally put the pipe down. "I thought you were joking about that shit..."
"I wasn't, I'm not," he said shortly, "I'm going, it's over."
"What the fuck?" She shouted, standing up as he turned back toward the door. "You think you're too good for me now or something?"
Dana stood with his hand on the door for a moment, and then turned, exploding. "Yes! I am so much more than the smoking, and the drinking! And the bullshit! I tried to get you to quit, but you always find a way to bring me down to your level! I'm sick of it."
He turned back to the door, and she hurled the pipe against the wall, where it shattered. "If you leave, I'll overdose. I'll kill myself!"
Dana held a shaking hand on he door knob for a moment longer, and said over his shoulder, "I'm sick of the emotional abuse too. I'm not responsible for your actions." And he walked out.
The Fool, The Empress, Wheel of Fortune, three weeks ago
Marcelle couldn't react-- she could barely keep her eyes open-- all she could process was the shadowy figure moving over her and a rough hand closing her drooling mouth, tht was all she could process before the darkness came.
The High Priestess and Temperance, several months ago
A letter addressed to Emma Fields is sent via overnight express, the first, with an authentic hand signature to prove it. While the name of the academy it is sent from is written clearly on the envelope, there is no return address.
Okay, we're totally starting either tonight or tomorrow morning, depending on when I get this shopping done. Get hype and whatnot.
Sifter said
If he does (whitch I hope is not going to occur), I claim his revolver!
The 10 year old girl has a revolver?
ASFDGFH Present shopping--- will finish this in a few hours
User said
how should i join?
Somehow get to the lodge independently? Up to you, dude.
Also, should misscrunch's character get eaten before we go?
Soooooooo interested.
Well mazel tov!
Teoinsanity said i call scorpio
I will fight you to the death!!!!!!!!
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