Twin made me do it

This is a little thing that a wrote for a character thingy. Yeah. Anyway.







They met on the seaside. The surf a melody, the music of their
encounter. She was shy, her flesh quivering beneath his touch. Her
eyes luminous with unnamed emotions as she watched him, drank him in and
memorized every slope and point of his body.

Forever more she
would never forget the sound of the waves breaking beyond them. The sea
would always remind her of that one brief instant in her life when her
heart had been on fire with the pure hot light of love.

They came
together on the sand, a blissful mingling of flesh and tangle of limbs.
At first tentative and then with fervor they learned each other.
Grains of sand stained their flesh, melding with sweat, creating a
bittersweet mixture of pain and pleasure.

They exchanged no
words, just breathes, inhaling each other instead of air until they were
dizzy from it. They collapsed as one, both spent, cradled in each
others arms they rested in the after glow. A soft sensation of utter
peace and fulfillment.

He was, to her, to most beautiful creature
ever created. As his eyes slid slowly closed, she leaned over him,
watching, waiting, intent on the contented expression on his face. The
rise and fall of his chest, his breath fanning her cheeks.

She
smiled, he smiled. One glorious moment spent beneath the sun, in the
sand. One moment of complete bliss. She had offered this to him, and
now she planned to take her many more. Many, many more such moments she
would have from him, though she would only give him this one.

With
ease she slid from his arms as he slipped away to Morpheus. From among
her clothes she pulled her rucksack. The syringe was ready, the needle
sharp and his arm extended toward her in a last bid for salvation.

Pressing
the gleaming metal tip to his veins, she looked at him once more in
wonder and awe. She could preserve this. Keep him whole. But to do
that she would have to sacrifice what she wanted more.

More than
his love, his devotion, she wanted his heart. He would be hers forever.
Completely pure and true in his agony. Always hers. He awakened when
she stabbed him, his expression puzzled until she drew out the knife,
and then frightened.

She traced his flesh with he blade, watching
the paralytic seep through his body, watched him realize that his power
was gone. The power belonged only to her now. It was the safest way,
the best way she knew.

She watched his throat cord on a scream he
would never utter and smiled. With tender love and devotion she cut
him, carved him up in a manner most pleasing to her. with each inch she
inflicted the maximum amount of pain she could. It was purifying. She
would baptize him in her own way, through pain without malice, torture
without hate.

He would never be reborn from the red waters of her
religion, but dwell always within her. She carved him as a sculptor
would an effigy. Creating a greater beauty from the raw materials of
his body. There was no cruelty in the stroke of her knife, only care.
She wanted him to live, needed him to survive until that last moment.

The
ultimate moment when she would open him completely, expose his still
beating heart to the sun. How much more she would love him then. He
would be her rapture, her redemption. As she feasted upon his heart.

Always and forever, he would belong to her.

That's awesome Sheep. I like your writing style.

What did you write this for? A character for a story or an RP or whatnot?

Wow! I couldn't read that fast enough. And not to get it over but wow! You really are a good writer Sheep!

Ahhh. Thanks!

Actually, Mrz Hat hit it on the head! She's a character for an RPG I used to run back in the day.

Because sheepy is a big fat effing nerd. ^_^ Wheee.

*stares blankly for a few minutes before standing from his front row seat and begins clapping excitedly*

That...was amazing. Such a twist of events. The dark as equally captivating as the light of it.

*shakes his finger at the stage*

See I knew there was hope here. All you people declaring lack of creativity. This is what the world needs. Such emotion translated into words and back to emotion once more.

Bravo...Bravo...

Haha! Me too. I've been RPing since I was ten or eleven, I still have a couple RPGs I play on. Not a lot anymore because good RPGs are hard to find the last few years, it's a dying art

Yes I agree the balance was perfect! It blew me away!

The Mr. E of Hat wrote:*stares blankly for a few minutes before standing from his front row seat and begins clapping excitedly*

That...was amazing. Such a twist of events. The dark as equally captivating as the light of it.

*shakes his finger at the stage*

See I knew there was hope here. All you people declaring lack of creativity. This is what the world needs. Such emotion translated into words and back to emotion once more.

Bravo...Bravo...

[stares]

Damn. Thank you. Means a lot coming from you since I really like your writing as well!


Mrz Hat! That is AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Ok, one more for Twin!



-----



Soviet Russia...

If he had a sense
of history, he would have known that he came from a country steeped in
blood. But he didn't need to know the history of his mother land to
know the bloodiness of life. It was there behind and before him, ever
present in every major event of his life. He was born, as we all are,
in blood, and in blood he would probably die like so many before him.

The
Change came when hunting. Racing fleet footed with his companions
through the taiga. Just ahead of him ran his favorite sister, his most
beloved pack mate. Though he labored, barrel chested and swift with
youth, he could not catch her. None could, and she not yet an adult,
not having reached her peak strength. She amazed him and filled him
with a wondrous joy, this sister of his.

Before them charge a
moose, neck extended and nostrils flaring as it tried to keep its breath
and its life. They streamed behind it, a yelping, snarling beast of
one consciousness. All of them hell bent on killing and devouring their
chosen prey. Certainly they looked like a half mad, unorganized mob,
but their plan was well made and their trap set. A tumble of stones, a
screen of trees, and cornered, massive beasts with an antler span as
long as any of them.

And she struck, his dearest sister, out
pacing them all and flying with a gathering of haunches toward the
bull's nose, only to be met in the air by his antlers. A sickening
crunch, a deafening squeal. So young, so powerful and swift. So
stupid. It felt as if it had been his own heart impaled and crushed.
Rage and sorrow welled within him, driving him forward, sending him too
flying.

The bull moose was prepared for another such wolf attack,
but what he became that fateful moment when his most favorite sister
was taken from him was something more. A beast mightier than any other
in the taiga. The bull fell beneath him and the pack fled from him
until his rage was over. They forgot her, his sweet sister, in their
joy at the share of the meat. But now, being different, he knew he
never would.

Years later...

He had conquered all
comers. His pack was pristine, their territories unrivaled. None could
stand against him, and none did. He was something more, something
other, that no simple wolf could defeat.

And he had chosen for
himself the best of all mates. The most daring and cunning of she
wolves, with a wit that almost rivaled his own. She did not share in
his gifts, but she did not fear them either. She stood beside him
instead of in his shadow, secure enough in her own capabilities to not
feel the need to rely, or cower beneath, his. He loved her with a man's
passion and wolf's loyalty.

Together they ran at the head of
their pack across the tundra, forsaking the relative safety of the taiga
with its tree cover for the open plains of icy snow. he was as deep
chest and powerful as she was lithe and strong. A perfect match that
had created two years worth of strong pups, almost all which were still
alive. His life was a blessed one, shadowed only by his new knowledge
and long memory. He could not forget that his sister's death was more
than a life lesson.

Onward they ran, their voices lifted to the
sky in glorious song as they reveled in their freedom. Nothing could
rival the joy in their hearts and their deep sense of rightness.
Nothing could compare t the awesomeness of their ultimate freedom. The
world was theirs, as far as their eyes could see and their paws could
carry them.

But change is too often bloody.

Above them was
an unfamiliar thumping. The rush of rotating wings rather than with
usual sort. Their stride faltered, all eyes looking upward at this new
and unwelcome intrusion. Fear thrilled through all of them. They
stumbled, caught themselves, and began to flee. What had just moments
before been a stream of wolves became a scattering. But still he stuck
by his mate as they dug in and fled like the rest of the strange thing
above them.

Curious by nature, true, but wary enough to know that
the unknown was most often unwelcome. And dangerous. He could smell
them, an acrid tang, hear them, a buffeting his sensitive eardrums. He
knew they were following them, having picked out the biggest and the
best of the pack, much as he would have done when challenging for land
or food. So he broke away, hoping to draw them off. He was more likely
to survive than she, having developed a precarious sense of
invincibility.

Alas, she was the more beautiful, with the
crystalline clear coat of white that was so prized. And it was she that
they shock, the sound reverberating across the tundra and sending more
than the wolves squealing for cover. He died twice over, tumbling
behind a struggling bush and watching her fall. Great splashes of
crimson blood stained her once pristine coat.

Whining deep in his
throat, he squinted against the backlash of the helicopter blades as it
descended, men jumping out to claim their prize amidst much laughter
and back slapping. Again there was nothing he could do but watch and
mourn, knowing he would be the only one to remember her as much more
than a shadow in a years time.

Ah, but the fools left their spore
all over the trampled ground. Fed it to him on the wind of their
wings. And being more than a wolf, he could track him. Being more, and
less, he could leave his pack behind and travel the frozen wastes alone
with nothing more than a faint trail on the wind and a bitter, raging,
hatred in his heart.

Weeks later...

He stood at the
edge of the taiga. The trees around him thin and sparse. Before him
was nothing but open terrain. Terrain he had learned meant death. But
beyond it was the sprawling woods of metal towers and glimmering lights.
And there within that man made maze were her hunters.

It was
fair. He too was a hunter. And vengeance was a human emotion. It was
good that man would introduce him to his human side. The weak hairless
part of himself he had hidden. Yes. It was good and fair that they
should teach him so he could kill them.

Hmm. Didn't realize they copied over so funny. Haha.

Also, I never proof read, so excuse my mistakes.

And, second one is not for a fleshed out or developed character or story or anything. I just had this idea/scene/whatever stuck in my head and wrote it out one day. It's good, but it's not perfect/right and I can't seem to figure out where it all went wrong lol. It didn't come out the same as it was in my head.

Sheep that was amazing. I absolutely love your writing style! You pull such a good balance between light and dark, which is really difficult to do (I struggle with that myself a lot).

Aww thanks!

I do pretty good when I've been working at it, but when I fall out of practice it all gets... drively lol.

You'll have to share some next Mrz Hat! Yess you shall.

But now, I have to go get some lunch before I die.

How long have you been writing for Sheep? Your writing style is absolutely impeccable; such emotion and description built into it so, perfectly. I won't lie, I'm extremely envious, lol.

For anime nerds out there it totally gave me a Wolfs Rain vibe.

As amazing as it is. I think it could be even better if flushed out. Extend it into a full on novel showing this wolf's development into human emotion. Where I think it fell short for me was just in the speed of things. I know it wasn't intended to be a huge piece but it almost has to be.

I'm pulled in in a way that makes me want to witness the entire process of his awareness as well as how it leads to his final confrontation at a conclusion.

A fine piece and I think one worth flushing out.

Kitty, I've been writing for a LONG time. Probably since I was ten or so. I was absolutely horrible then. It was all about magical horse rides and stuff. lol

An interesting idea Mr. Hat, I would do that if I didn't think I might get hit with copyright infringement.

I love Wolf Rain, but it's actually based on Werewolf: The Appocalypse (spelling?). I had another nice scene based on Werewolf: The Forsaken but I can't find the damn thing. Lost in livejournal space somewhere.

Meh you only run into copyright infringement if you try to sell it. That aside, In my opinion it will stand pretty well as an original.

besides... there is no such thing as an original idea. It's what you do with it that makes it original.

I say if you want to flush it out go for it. Don't hold yourself back. Worst case scenario you have a great piece to share with your friends.

That's true. I might do that. Twin has also challenged me to write some stuff. So I'm going to be working on that when I can get some quiet time.

sheepies is an awesome writer, she's helped me a lot to develop my own skillz, if it weren't for her dragging me to random RPG forums throughout the years, i would probably never have gotten as far as i have with trying to become a published author.

it's great practice, makes you strive to think more about what you're putting down, it helped me to develop my characters a lot. and it's true that RPG's are a dying breed, well, the good ones are anyways >.>