We were born with wings

You remember the jingles used to go [13]

Fri, 16 Oct 2009 00:51:37 GMT

So...

Black ~~guy in a suit~~ suit with a person in it. Heavy breathing. In the market. If I'd just paid a little more attention to Culture 101, maybe I'd remember the darn name. Isn't he supposed to be someone's father?

['suit with a person in it' is scribbled above the stricken line]

Things we go through [12]

Mon, 07 Sep 2009 16:31:59 GMT

I am gladdened to kn

"gladdened?" My mind wonders? Why such a word? A throw this aside as I think on the recent departure of such a uniform. Not only did my mind remind me such a thing must have been from another time of my life, it was hardly intended for someone of my statur

[there's a pause]

As my fingers caress each page, reading the uselessly long handwriting of others, I wonder... I am not the only one so cursed?

[Translation: Yay the uniforms are gone. It pinged me for annoying and bad things. My wings were pretty uncomfortable. Apparently I'm not the only writing in ridiculously fancy speech.]

Many followed his command [11]

Tue, 18 Aug 2009 00:43:18 GMT

In case you happen to pass by me, no I'm not insane, just going through a little bout of the jitterbug.

Apple? You around your journal?

[ooc: Hybrid is occasionally forced to do the chicken dance to music no one else can hear. ^^; Feel free to have seen a cloaked figure doing such.]

Here comes an opening [Sight/Touch]

Mon, 17 Aug 2009 20:36:20 GMT

She feels her foot connect with a large piece of driftwood. It nearly flies out of sight from the force of the kick, but she ignores it. Sand under her shoes crunch in the dusky sunlight. Waves lap against the beach, but she can't hear it. Anger is already running through her veins, frustration. Her eyes search for something and soon they land on it: a piece of a shell.

She falls to the ground and grabs it, holding it in her right hand so hard her hand aches. Hybrid presses her lips together and jams the shell into her arm. Pain blooms down her arm as red blood blossoms from the wound. She begins sawing back and forth, opening the arm up.

With each stroke back and forth with the sharp edge, more red comes out, more than she thought would. She begins tearing through muscles. A cry tears at her throat.

It hurts like hell, but she wants to keep going. Her desperation claws at her. She keeps going, deeper into the arm, more red pouring forth onto the sand. It wets and stains it.

Her fingers grasp the shell. She wants to keep going. She's upset and broken, wanting whatever was forcing her to do this to leave. More blood comes out of her arm. She thinks she must've hit some huge vein, but it doesn't matter. She brushes away caution and rational thought, cutting deeper into her arm.

Her jaw tightens against the pain. She knows she's gone through worse, somehow, and she continues to dig. There's something that needs to leave. She ignores the red and cuts harder.

It had to go.

No room at all for any other thoughts [10]

Mon, 10 Aug 2009 13:03:34 GMT

A Letter to the Editor–

I'd really prefer to not be chased by explosions everywhere I go. Not only is it generally unsafe, we have a bar here with alcohol and even I'm smart enough to know what happens when fire and that stuff meet.

Apple's still on the down-low, so I don't have any other news for other people looking for him.

[ooc: I know others have done explosions, but as Hybrid has firebug flock-mates in canon... :D She keeps wanting to yell at nonexistent people for causing them.]

I'm uninspired but not un-useful [09]

Sat, 08 Aug 2009 22:12:43 GMT

~~Since this is what people usually~~

Has anyone seen Apple? He's a little kid, dark hair, loves to eat.

Hey, hey, this song is for us, so put your hands in the air if you're crazy like us [08]

Mon, 03 Aug 2009 14:05:13 GMT

Well, cheery weather we're having today.

Apparently I'm not the only one imagining stuff coming from nowhere, so here's props for sanity.

Apple. What are you up to these days?

I tried to be stronger, tried to be smarter, tried to be everything for you [07]

Tue, 30 Jun 2009 03:10:35 GMT

If I've still got a spot, I'll report to work tomorrow, Snap.

[there's a short pause]

Sphere: Tell me if you see a blond girl running around.

Resident murderers or otherwise people inclined to bodily harm, including pedophiles: you touch her and I will make sure you never have kids. Death's not really a good threat anymore.

I'm gonna be out front / gonna blaze a trail [06]

Tue, 02 Jun 2009 20:04:53 GMT

Newsflash: Edensphere

Just thought you'd all love to know there's some place that plays... stuff. Visions. Memories, maybe.

For like a whole room of people. In case you all want to see the same thing.

Saw two things while I was there. Something about Sasuke (there was someone by that name here, right?) and something about being fired at and blocking it with some stupid bracelet. (Got to say, that's probably the best use of a bracelet around.)

This is where you jump with joy, etc., etc.

[ooc: This entry and all comments have been inked.]

I don't trust anybody, least not around here [05]

Sat, 30 May 2009 20:52:43 GMT

~~I wond~~ ~~Has anyo~~ ~~Save th~~

Dear Edensphere,

Keep your chicken pox to yourself. I don't want it. You sick people take that lotion and oatmeal crap. Maybe take a day at the spa. And eat your veggies. It'll help you grow real big and strong.

Also, being tarred and feathered is not on my list of to-dos.

Thanks, but no thanks.

I'll write you out of the story like you knew that I would [Sound/Smell]

Fri, 29 May 2009 01:30:12 GMT

"[static], there's something I have to tell you." Pure's voice rings across the black. She can hardly breathe through the broken nose. It's clogged with blood, but even under that, there's the horrible smell that makes her afraid: chemicals.

"Shh..." She tries to soothe the distressed girl. "It can wait. Just rest. Try to feel better."

Pure's insistent. "No, [static], it's really important–" A door opens. Footsteps across the floor. Her heart is racing a thousand miles an hour. She's angry that anyone would make Pure so afraid. Anger sweeps across every sense. She can hear Pure crying. More anger, almost blinding her. Everything was aching to know what was going on.

Her heart stops. Her eyes have seen something. "[static], I've missed you so much."

It breaks. That voice. It hurts her just to hear it, rends her heart apart to hear it.

I'm hallucinating, she decides in that instant. I'm having an out-of-body experience. She focuses on that person, that voice. Her heart is slowly breaking into a thousand shattered pieces. Instead, a powerful hate begins sweeping through her in the silence. Every bit of her that had responded to the voice with love and respect shut down. Everything went cold with fury. Happy memories that she couldn't remember were locked away.

"I know you're surprised." He was saying as if he had all the answers to the world. "Come on. I need to talk to you." She just wants to get back to Pure and the other breaths she could hear. Nothing smelled worse than this place; the pang of metallic cages, the chemicals, the intolerable sterile smell of everything.

She can practically hear her muscles ache as she stands. There was a silence and she can hear herself flick the air in an unseen sign. They walk. She knows its a hall by the echoes, though not how long.

"Sit down, [static], please," the voice says and she does so silently. She can hear him messing with things a bit away. "[static], I have to tell you– I'm so proud of you." The words only inspire dislike. "I just can't believe how well you've done. No, I can believe it – I knew you could do it. But seeing you so healthy, so powerful, such a good leader, well, it just makes me so proud." As if he has something to offer with all this praise, she says nothing. The contraption beeps. He brings over a cup.

She can smell the delicious hot chocolate and marshmallows as they steam away in her cup.

"You must have so many questions," he continues, unmoved by her silence. "I don't even know where to start. I just – I'm just so sorry about this. I wish I could explain – wish I could have explained two years ago, to you, if no one else. I wish I could explain what I'd give just to see you smile again." His words sound so heart-wrenchingly sincere, but her mind only offers one option for this man:

How about your head on a stick?

"But in time, [static], it will all come out, and you'll understand what's happening. That's what I told [static]. I told her that everything is a test, even when you don't know it. That sometimes you just have to do what you have to do and know it will all be clearer later. All of this has been a test." His monologue smelled familiarly like the smell of a bull's crap to her.

"[static]," his tone was becoming pleading, "[static], soon some people will come in to talk to you. But I need to tell you something first."

That you are the devil incarnate? Her mind offers again.

"Something I couldn't tell you before, something I thought I'd have time to prepare you for later." He pauses for a second. "The thing is, [static]," his tone is so pleading, her heart is begging her to trust him, even for a second. "You're even more special that I always told you. You see, you were created for a reason. Kept alive for a purpose, a special purpose."

You mean besides seeing how well insane scientists could graft avian DNA into a human egg?

She feels happiness draining out of her. The chemical smells of the place seem to bleed into her nose. She knows she'll never forget it. "[static], that reason, that purpose is: You are supposed to save the world."

Why kiss the feet of the people who kick you? [04]

Sun, 17 May 2009 23:12:43 GMT

Dear Edensphere,

I'm through watching the dream reruns and they are overdue to be returned to you.

Take your dreams back and let me sleep.

Yours Truly,
A Resident

P.S. You can have the marshmallow-bonanza too.

Don't try to wake me up even if the sun really does come out tomorrow [03]

Sat, 25 Apr 2009 23:48:00 GMT

[There are inkblots and the writing is smudged quite a few words are struck out or blotted out. It takes a few seconds before anything legible is actually written. Feel free to decide what struck out words are legible and what aren't.]

~~the~~ ~~whose~~ ~~blon~~ ~~men~~

Three bodies are In the House. One blonde Woman and Two Men. all are Dead.

[ooc: >>;; Hybrid's post from this log.]

People think I'm insane because I'm frowning all the time [02]

Sun, 29 Mar 2009 19:45:04 GMT

Dittoing Scales.

Don't know who it matters to anymore, but, yeah. Out of the Twilight Zone.

[ooc: Hybrid still looks like this]

Alone in this fight with herself [01]

Sat, 14 Mar 2009 23:28:30 GMT

A B [inkblot] D

[tap tap tap]

How many other handwritings can read this?

[ooc: :| Someone has been watching the journal and noticing the various handwritings since her rebirth. Also, hiding. Because that is what Hybrid does best.]

[Dream] - All right, okay, no more time for yesterday

Wed, 04 Mar 2009 21:47:44 GMT

There was a vivid stench of chemicals and a room of white. Everything was sterile and uncomfortably bright. There was cold metal beneath her, chilling the joints on her back, pressing something into her spine.

Hybrid.

The word echoed off the bare walls, the only sound was the slow beeping of machines and a higher-pitched beeping that seemed much more rapid, but still steady at that pace. She peeled back her eyes, only to shut them again.

It seemed her body fell away from the room, through the floor, and into the air. She felt her muscles all moving at once, and the wind in her face. Her hair twisted and pulled free, whipping her in the face as she flapped. She gently allowed herself to relax mid-flight, causally glancing around. A dark boy, dressed in black. A fair-haired boy with another, smaller, blonde-haired boy laughing around him. To her left was a black-skinned girl and a curly-haired blond one. All with wings.

Me and my merry band of mutants.

After flying until she was exhausted, she landed on a beach, now alone, looking out across the expanse of water. Above her, birds soared. Her eyes watched them. As she did, they seemed to multiply, one at first, then more until it seemed the sky was full of them. Then they began to meld together, forming solid letters, black against a bloody-red sunset sky.

SAVE THE WORLD,

She squinted but the other words were blurred out into three black smudges, as if the other birds hadn't gotten the memo. Then, the bird scattered over her head. The dirt below her bare feet began pitching and buckling, threatening to toss her to the ground. She leapt into the air, trying to get away, but a golden net descended from the air, trapping her against the moving ground that wanted to eat her alive.

As soon as she looked up, the ground stopped moving. Before her stood a group of wolf-men, each growling with hungry looks in their eyes, blood-red and eager. In their arms were a group of bird-kids, some she recognized from before others were completely new. One wolf-man stepped out from the group, not quite human, not quite wolf, with a seven-year-old boy's face torn and stretched across the muscle and bone. His claws came forward, pulling off the net. She scrambled to get away, but he grabbed an ankle and drug her back.

"Let's have a chat, you and me," he sneered, gripping the ankle harder. Blood poured forth from it until he reached her neck, placing the huge hand around it. She was lofted into the air. "For old time's sake."

Immediately, she began fighting it, kicking and scratching. Stars bloomed over her vision as she did so, losing oxygen as he cut it off. She kept fighting as the breath left her body, but nothing seemed to affect the grotesque figure. A single thought bubbled to her mind:

Am I going to die?

The stars grew bigger, her struggles weaker. She could still barely see the trapped kids, watching her with some sort of weak hope in their eyes. Her eyes rolled back into her head. Then, in her mind, a voice that was neither male nor female, machine nor human resonated.

Yes. There was an explosion of pain in her head so bad she couldn't focus for a second on its words. You are going to die. Just like everyone else.

There was a single, sickening snap.

And everything went black.

Maybe I'm just a girl on a mission, but I'm ready to fly [12]

Sat, 14 Feb 2009 20:59:46 GMT

The weather's nice.

Wonder if it's going to stay that way.

[ooc: Hybrid has little to make commentary on. XD Also, she's begun flying at night around the City Without Walls, once or twice a week around midnight/1AM, so feel free to have your character see a person with wings around that time. ♥]

How can I preserve and light the way for a world that I can't admit I'm in? [11]

Sun, 01 Feb 2009 22:41:40 GMT

~~Against... What. The bad guys?~~

I think Scales had it right.

and Justice, next time you decide to die, at least do it quietly, or, more preferably, naturally.

[ooc: strikes are only visible briefly, until they're blacked out.]

Feelings are intense / Words are trivial [10]

Wed, 07 Jan 2009 22:01:40 GMT

I don't care it was Aurora, some creep I've never spoken with.

Anyone that's dissected, alive, dead, whatever. Someone needs to own up.

Oh, and pray I don't find you, 'cause you sure as hell won't get any sympathy from me.

I know what you meant to say instead [09]

Thu, 01 Jan 2009 18:43:23 GMT

Cute, Truth.

~~What do I do wi~~

Playing Games [08]

Wed, 31 Dec 2008 05:33:01 GMT

Following Ghost's amazing PSA.

I have one of my own.

I lost the game.

Thank you for your time and the Sphere may now resume its usual antics.

[added a little later]

Before you people come asking, here are the rules (I lost the game again by writing this all out, aren't I so nice?):

You can't think of the Game. If you do, you lose and have to tell everyone. You have 10 minutes to stop thinking about the Game, after that, it's Game on (Ahaha EO - a pun).

Oh, and you're all playing now. Have fun.

There is a light that never goes out [07]

Wed, 31 Dec 2008 02:05:21 GMT

A treehouse. I'm vastly amused, fishbowl.

Trust? I hate you. And the Sphere. I hate you too.

At least it's even easier to get around. I don't even have to worry about echoing.

And Remmy? I still don't appreciate the chain e-mail dream. If you're wondering.

[ooc: Hybrid and Pure's house was turned into a treehouse. ♥ And she managed to accidentally get to the cursed springs and turn into a duck.]

Headstrong, I'll take you on... [06]

Thu, 18 Dec 2008 01:08:00 GMT

Truth? Justice? I need a [long pause] favor.

She feels lost in her own life [05]

Sun, 30 Nov 2008 18:22:53 GMT

Some food for thought:

If you're dreaming you're dreaming, are you dreaming or are you awake?

If you're in a world where nothing makes sense and you've forgotten what you suppose should be called home, do you belong in the forgotten place, or what you've been forced to make do with?

-Tabs

[scrawled in later]

P.S. Looking for Brooklyn-to-English translator. Apply within.

[writing is sloppy and each line is certainly not straight]

Take me away / To better days [04]

Thu, 30 Oct 2008 23:56:11 GMT

creepy guy in black cloak: check

money stolen: check

crystal thingy with rings: check

This place is never lacking in the unexpected. ~~Or depressing~~

don't take things from strangers. ever.

[strikes scribbled out, there are some lines that look like the pen was jostled by something nuzzling the writing hand]