Nessy
Hunter
Music Whore
The Owl!
Posts: 339
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Post by Nessy on Jun 26, 2006 11:03:07 GMT 12
Coming down (or was it up? Who knows - more importantly, who cares?) from Pixie's basement, Poet was taking out a cigarette from her jacket's pocket, but even before she could take it to her mouth, she was thrown against the floor by a brutal force, and something deadly sharp cut her from her nose almost to her jar.
"Oi!"
She fell on her butt, frowning deeply.
"I thought we'd agree not to harm each other. But I guess you can't help your violent nature... Berserker."
Standing tall in front of the fallen girl, was the Mistress of the Whar Rats, one of the katars dripping a little blood. The black girl didn't speak, just focusing her eyes, the good and the blind one, in Poet's, who was pressing a hand against the wound inflicted upon her. She looked up and smirked at Berserker.
"The Vampires have two little birds with them, there are others moving towards the direction of the Tower.", Poet grabbed the fallen cigarette, and lit it, pulling her legs up and resting her arms on her knees, smoking it without the aid of her hands. "Anything else?"
Berserker smiled her psychotic smile and threw a pack of cigarettes at her. She nodded in acknowledgement and turned around in her heels, starting to walk away, before being stopped my the girl's voice.
"My secret is safe with you, right?", Poet asked, appearing to be weird, for she seemed... sane now, serious, even. She brought a hand to her lips, the blood of the wound still running down her face. The Berserker turned around and nodded, before walking away without a sound.
"Creepy girl.", Poet laughed, just sitting there.
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Post by Dysmuhp on Jun 27, 2006 10:51:14 GMT 12
"Hmm, isto é melhor do que eu pensava! Queres Squeak?" Guilherme asked his squirrel while biting a rat leg he had just -tried- to roast. Who would think rats taste better than chicken? Nah, that would be impossible, he thought. Guilherme had come to New Pork one or teo weeks ago and still had found no sign of life. He penetrated the ruined city through the suburbs, and he decided to spend some time there. He slept on half a matress under an almost burnt blanket. Better than staying outside for sure. He decided to come through the suburbs because he knew his sister stayed at someone's home around there. Afterall, she was the reason he came to New Pork. The houses were creepy, everything was a mayhem. Guilherme looted some houses and sort of built his own cosy shelter in a former gardner's house that was not destroyed. The house next to the one he was using had a pool, but Guilherme was able to resist a good bath since that water would only make him dirtier. He used some buckets to collect water from the rain and the dew. But today was a different day. He decided to do a little exploring beyond the suburbs. He started approaching the buildings. Huge buildings. Everything looked like in the movies. He walked and he walked. He had brought his bow in case a tasty rat or bird happened to pass by. He started to sing. His voice made the place look less creepy, delivering some peace around him. Squeak liked to hear Guilherme sing, so he climbed to his shoulder.
But did you know, that when it snows My eyes become larger and the light that you shine Can be seen...
He stopped suddenly. He held his bow tight and had an arrow ready in his pocket. Squeak went back to Guilherme's bag. Someone was there. There was someone actually sitting there! Guilherme approeached with caution but serene and hopeful. There, in the ground, stood a weird girl, laughing to herself. She didn't look very ordinary, but she didn't look dangerous either. Guilherme focused in that moment, forgetting his english. "Olá, também vives aqui?" he asked the weird girl.
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Nessy
Hunter
Music Whore
The Owl!
Posts: 339
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Post by Nessy on Jun 27, 2006 11:13:34 GMT 12
Poet blinked and looked up at the kid, talking with her in her mother language. She laughed and arched her eyebrows, bringing her right hand to the cigarette between her lips, putting it between her index and forefingers.
"Hey, you speak Portuguese.", she snickered, pulling herself calmly up to her feet. "But I'd advise you to talk English. These Nazis get all flustered and annoyed when they don't understand you and will probably try and jump on you and make you say whatever you did in English. Even if it was just a friendly hello. All crazy around here."
The girl wiped her bloodied face on her arm and smirked at the younger boy, taking a drag of the cigarette. She seemed to have forgotten his question regarding her whereabouts, which wouldn't be very surprising, in case one knew her.
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Post by Dysmuhp on Jun 27, 2006 11:37:39 GMT 12
Guilherme was astonished. The smoke of the cigarette bothered him, but he stood still. "És portuguesa? Eu falei em português sem pensar... desculpa, eu... umm... right, I am Guilherme. And who might you be? Are there more people here? Who are they? Do you have a shelter? Are you looking for someone too? Do you know another portuguese girl called Laura? She's my sister! Umm... sorry, I got a bit ahead of myself." Guilherme never thought of so many questions at the same time. He was confused and wanted answers. He even got a little afraid. This weird person told him everyone was crazy here... should he have come to this place? He was scared and choked. He was still holding his bow tight. He wanted to cry and started to feel in panic. He rushed to the weirdo and hugged her. "Por favor ajuda-me!" he whispered. "Help me."
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Nessy
Hunter
Music Whore
The Owl!
Posts: 339
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Post by Nessy on Jun 27, 2006 11:55:41 GMT 12
Poet looked at him with a curious yet blank look as he started to spurt out all those questions. She laughed at them, before finishing the cigarette and throwing it to the floor. She yawned and rubbed the back of her neck, before sneering and holding her hands up when he hugged her. "Whoa, kid, calm down.", she patted his head awkwardly, as if she didn't really know what to do, before slinking away from his embrace.
"Anyway, I'm...", she frowned and rolled her eyes up, as if trying to remember. "Ah, what's my name again? My name is Hatti-- Hat-- My name is Hoola, and I'm from Turkey.", it was the first thing she could have came up with. Then she sighed. "No, wait, I'm Poet. Or whatever. Call me Hoola.", she snickered to herself and shrugged.
"There are a lot of crazy kids around here. Not available for playmates or something, they'd probably try to bite your head off. Or something along these lines of pleasant. And if I did know this... girl - what's her name? - I wouldn't remember. I have a short memory.", she laughed and shrugged again. "I can try and help you, but I'm not very useful. I'm a loner, I don't do Tribes. They're ridiculous and make me laugh and giggle.", she snickered again and grinned. "You're in any Tribe?"
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Post by Dysmuhp on Jun 27, 2006 22:59:30 GMT 12
Guilherme got a hold of himself and took a step back. "Umm, tribe? Oh, and weren't you portuguese?" he asked while raising his eyebrow. He took a glance at this Hoola, or whatever she was, and could notice no evil at all, not like these 'kids' she was talking about. Guilherme thought if there was anyone else in that town, they should be looking for relatives or something, not playing at war with each other by making tribes... "Oh hey, you look hurt. Are you headed somewhere? I've got a shelter in the suburbs, I have food if you'd like and I can help you with that wound." Guilherme didn't feel any kind of threat and relaxed a bit. He put his bow around his shoulder at stared at the grey sky.
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Nessy
Hunter
Music Whore
The Owl!
Posts: 339
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Post by Nessy on Jun 28, 2006 8:40:07 GMT 12
"Yeah, I was. Am. Whatever.", she shrugged distracted, being the airhead she was. She rubbed the back of her neck and then arched an eyebrow, "You must be new, no? Yeah. Well, Tribes are the pathetic little groups the other kids like to call their families... very disfunctional families, as I see it, but moving on. There are, four, I think. Vampires, Wharf Rats, Cigarettes and, hm, oh yeah, Wildcats. All very imaginative names.", she said with sarcasm, putting a hand on her hip and looking around. She rose her foot from the floor a bit and flopped the flip-flop against it, a sound that had a dry echo against the emty street. "If one of their Hunters catches you, you're forced to join, or something along these lines. Not me, though. I'm too much of a, how to put it? A crazy bastard, aparently.", she laughed to herself and then frowned, pointing at the wound on her face.
"What, this? Oh, no, this is fine. It'll go away, the person who inflicted it knows very well what she does.", she smirked and then crossed her arms, tilting her head to the side, "And it seems that you are quite self-sufficient. You've managed well, getting a shelter and food.", Poet had a wiseass and even rascal smirk dancing on her lips. "But I've been around for quite a while, I also have a home. And I don't eat nor sleep much. Word of advice: you shouldn't too. Eat only when necessary and sleep only if you must, or you'll wake up with a knife on your throat. In my case, I just keep forgetting.", the girl snorted. "But, sure, lets go."
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Post by Dysmuhp on Jun 28, 2006 9:08:38 GMT 12
Then again, Hoola surprised Guilherme, so he rose the other eyebrow. Everything was whatever to her. It didn't make much sense to GUilherme, but after he thought a bit, it did sound like a life out of problems, just do what you want. Yeah, people should try it. Hoola was an intelligent person. Still, Guilherme didn't congratulate her for it'd be too weird. And it was already sounding really confusing in his head. So there are four tribes which work as families... well not much of a family, apparently. Anyways they have hunters? What the hell, Guilherme thought. «Oh well, I just hope I can get out alright from this one...» "Someone made that to you? People tend to get to mean in this place? Do follow me to my shelter, that wound doens't look good at all to me. I should have a bandage or two. Hm... this way!" Guilherme pointed to the path he had just crossed. «Hoola says she also has a home, but I really wonder if she remembers where it is.» He walked a bit faster than he used to. Would these hunters Hoola told him about be real? «Creepy...» "Come Hoola!" One would guess Guilherme was just happy for finding someone. Better with a total freak than alone, right?
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Nessy
Hunter
Music Whore
The Owl!
Posts: 339
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Post by Nessy on Jun 28, 2006 9:18:32 GMT 12
Poet frowned and then snickered, following the boy as he started walking. "It's Poet!", she corrected him as he called her Hoola. Damn people and their good memory. She didn't even remember his name. Oh, wait, it was Guilherme. Right.
"You're clueless, aren't you?", she sounded amused, "People aren't this mean.", she smirked. "People are much worse than that. This, is being nice.", the girl said, sliding her hands in her pockets and walking as if she didn't have a care in the whole wide world.
"So, Guilherme. What's your alias, if you have one? You know, a nickname. Everyone likes to give one to people around here.", she said as a matter of fact-ly. She then reached her messenger bag and rumbled through it, until finding a cigarette, a little worn due to being in that mess of a bag, a sea of pens, pencils, papers, notebooks, and who knows what else. She brought it to her lips, lit it and took a drag, scratching the back of her neck idly.
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Post by Dysmuhp on Jul 1, 2006 3:02:38 GMT 12
"Oh, so they're worse..." And apparently things couldn't be worse. Guilherme just wanted to find his sister, that's all. He was getting afraid of living in that place. He feared he couldn't get along with these mean people. Maybe he could join a tribe? Maybe.
He tried to shake off those thoughts out of his head, and return to his old "try-to-enjoy-life" principle. Squeak jumped out of Guilherme's bag and started running ahead, and then returning. He fetched what seemed to be the rotten rest of a walnut. "OK you squirrel-dude, that's just gross."
Guilherme looked at the sky as if he was looking for some kind of hope. "So it's Poet? OK. What was that Hoola thing about, then?" He decided not to ask any more things similar to this because apparently Poet had some kind of short memory. Oh well. "So I bet Poet is your alias, then. You... remember your real name?" «OK that was just stupid, Guilherme» he whipered himself. "As for my alias, I never had one before but I guess you can call me..." Guilherme looked around him. He looked at his sweater. He looked at his bow. He looked at the grey sky. "Call me Bolt then." He smiled and carried on.
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Nessy
Hunter
Music Whore
The Owl!
Posts: 339
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Post by Nessy on Jul 12, 2006 9:34:51 GMT 12
She shrugged at his first question, but nodded at the second, absently.
"My name? I dunno. I think it starts with a B. Bernadette. Bruna. Whatever. I know my surname, though. It's, er, Person. I mean, Pessoa.", she snickered and shrugged again. "Doesn't really matter. Just call me Poet.", she waved her hand idly, and took a drag of the cigarette. "And, yes, people are much worse around here, Bolt."
"Poet."
The voice was not a voice in the head of any of them. It was a voice of a young man. A Swede. Sven, the Vampires Beta. Poet, who had turned around, arched an eyebrow and smirked, bringing the cigarette to her lips. "And here's a perfect example. This is Rooster, the Vampire's Beta. Beta, is like a vice-president.", she pointed at him carelessly, looking at Bolt.
Sven clenched his jaws and crossed his arms over his chest, frowning angrily. "You push your luck, Poet.", he then turned his face to Bolt. "Who are you?"
"Now, now, where are your manners? You must be a good host to a newcomer."
"Shut up, Poet."
She laughed and rose her arms in mock defeat, entertaining herself with the cigarette between her lips.
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Post by Dysmuhp on Jul 16, 2006 3:23:23 GMT 12
"Huh... umm... I'm Guilherme. Or wait? Hum, Bolt? Yeah I'm Bolt, nice to meet you." Guilherme took a glance at this Rooster and shuddered. He felt like an ant in that environment and now maybe smaller in the presence of Rooster.
He looked at Poet. She was at ease, so Guilherme thought this should be no problem. Or wait... maybe it was a worse problem, since that young woman acted so strangely at any kind of situation. This was definitly becoming very confusing, as Guilherme didn't know what to say or do. He didn't have a very good example to follow as well...
"So... are you friends?" he asked switching his sight between Poet and Rooster.
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Nessy
Hunter
Music Whore
The Owl!
Posts: 339
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Post by Nessy on Aug 10, 2006 3:40:30 GMT 12
Sven studied the boy, and then looked at Poet, who was having fun in wiggling the cigarette up and down between her lips, her bony fingers of the right hand playing an invisible piano, the other down her pocket.
As Guilherme opened his mouth for the second time, time seemed to freeze. Sven looked at him, frowning, and Poet too, her head tipped up, and to the shoulder, arching a dark eyebrow. There was a moment of silence, before Poet giving a shrieking laughter, falling on her back and rolling some, as if he had just made the most hilarious joke. Sven snorted, not very amused, and tapped his sash around his arm, with a handprint of a bloodied hand.
"I'm a Vampire. I don't befriend with people such as yourself or her.", he hissed. "Poet, I think I'm taking him back with me."
The raven-kind of laughter stopped quickly. Poet chuckled and wiped a tear from her eye, standing up and dusting off her clothes. She pulled the cigarette out of her mouth and threw it to the floor.
"No, you're not.", she smirked, placing an arm ois sholder and leaning on Guilherme. "He's my escort now. Ma' biatch.", she snickered. "So you go find other recruit or go back to Mina's arm. And, for fuck's sake, have some decency to forget about the past broken heart and let her heal yours. 'Cause one of you idiots really has to have the balls to fucking stop this whine-whine-bitch-bitch. Seriously!"
Sven seemed to have been taken aback by these words. He clenched his defined jaw and his wrists, but didn't said a word. Lips pressed tight against each other. Before there could be another exchange of words, he turned on his heels, the semi baggy jacket cutting air like a whip separates flesh from bone.
Poet watched him go and then snorted, patting Bolt's back. "You're a fun cricket, Billy.", as if she didn't remember his name or alias. "Well, be careful around here, and even in your sleep. 'Cause around here, the bedbugs do bite.", she snickered, pulled a cigarette out and up to her lips, lit it and sank her hands down her pockets, walking away with the distinct flip-flop and the crazy and improvised tapdance.
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