Dream a little dream (open)

[melina]

Melina was sitting on a bench, spacing out, she'd gone out with the guys and had downed one two many beers. She was feeling the effects of it. She was regretting it now though so she wasn't feeling the greatest. She was one of those people who didn't usually get overly drunk. She wasn't usually the person who got drunk but the stress had been eating away at her and she just got a little overly in need of a destresser and beer was the most ready thing to drink. Right now she was tired too but she couldn't sleep at the moment. She had a client to meet who wanted to meet her at this bench so she was waiting. The person was five minutes late though, which was starting to be iritating because she couldn't stand it when her clients threw her schedule off because they were late.

Melina had a few clients that were chronically late so she just told them the time they liked but when they'd come flying with oh I'm late and sorry and things like that. Melina just always smiled and said it was fine. She had just learned to move her clients back so that they weren't late and such. She was good at making sure that they never found out they weren't late. Melina was bored at the moment so she pulled out her notebook and started sketching hoping for someone to talk to or for her client to show up. She was just itching for something to do.

"Ok now what" said Melina looking at her watch

She sighed and then looked at her watch again, twenty minutes late, she was done with the client right now. She couldn't deal with clients like that. She always needed things on time.

[angelique]

Eyes are said to be the windows to the soul, but where others are made of clear glass for others to gaze upon the splendor or spite of one's character; I must admit that mine are stained with the portraits of deviltry, making said viewing almost impossible; where others chalices are filled with the wine of purity, mine is filled with the blood of insanity, which I freely drink and sample the iron taste upon my buds like a delicate brew. My eyes play a horrible trick upon this weary mind, for they see phantoms crafted and formed by illness that spreads through my dwindling sanity - voices become more than subtle whispers on the wind, but are screams inside my skull. At random times, my vision blackens; so my goddess-like body can do crimes that make sinners envious and God frown with displeasure. And when my sight returns, I have more enemies than when my sight fades, and my mind shifts to another person, nay, a demon.

These are my burdens alone to bear, these are the curses of schizophrenia and my split personality. And yet, these eyes are clouded with mystery as others try to figure out just what makes me go, what fuels this calloused soul.

Crafted with the bones of fallen Queens, I wear a crown upon my head, resembling my rein of chaos and disorder and beauty. To watch as others fall at my fang, is a honor better than being blessed by the Pope as I bring destruction to the lives of the unfortunate. To watch as the fields get hazy with the smoke of the cannon, and the ground tainted with the blood of the wounded and fallen taunts these ebony lips into a grin of pleasure, the moaning of the suffering brings a content growl rumbling, shaking my larynx as war spreads across the lands at my own uprising. Once pure in heart, I speak such soft words into the gentle ears of maidens and knights, peasants and common-folk alike. To make their ideals change and mold them into my own creation! With taunts of Hell and eternal damnation, they quickly change their mind as my words play into their heads with this blind corruption as they play the puppet and I, the puppet master. Aye, they say I am cruel to those of this race, but I must do what I can to survive. Kill or be killed, manipulate or be a drone.

Notorious for living a live of sin - this tainted land bears not the kindred spirits with hearts of gold and lives of virtue, that upon one encounter, can they force upon me the kindness which would change my ways, and if they did, these changes would not come easily. From the philosophies of Dante, vanity would be my greatest sin. When confronted with a power higher than my own, this head dares not to bow nor does this tail dare to lower; the gait of a queen finds its way into my step as I saunter throughout the lands even if they are ruled by another lord. Let them know of my power and if they so much as challenge it, well then, that will be their demise. Replacing the visual sign of n a siren'saggression, a razor sharp tongue spits out poisonous words mantled with a sing-song voice more sweeter than a siren's, and where the hair of others bristles, my body sways with devilish charms. From the commandments of Christianity, murder would be my other greatest sin. If one wishes to be foolhardy and cross upon the side where my fangs are bore with immense hostility, they deserve to feel the wrath of an angered woman. Mercy? What is it but a trick played by the beggars of the streets? If it is mercy you wish with a spiteful soul such as myself, you're looking in all the wrong places. Tell me, do you feel regret when you smash a nasty cockroach that scampers across your kitchen floor? Didn't think so. I feel no regret, remorse, or shame for my actions.

Living by the hypocritical oath of: Do as I say, not as I do, I still happen to lead with an iron fist. Though I may not show much loyalty to others, it would not be wise to take the dagger from your sheath and stab it through my spine, nor would it be wise on your behalf to treat me like common trash - I do not kindly react to betrayal or disrespect. Though I may be many things, a stupid lady I can say I'm not; for I know that slaying every soul that steps upon my lands for whatever means I can find would be foolish, the empire I strive to build will not grow far but instead crumble like Babylon or Rome! Instead of murder, I would resort to tests of strength to see if the person would be good enough for my way of life; no bawling progenies will be allowed. If you have the gull to step into my lands you must have the spine to go with it. Once the tests are passed and you become a member of my legion, you will be treated with respect and fairness. Would you be treated with kindness? Perhaps by another, for I know not much meaning of the word or of its practices. I was betrayed once, by a man I thought was true. . . Be forewarned, I have killed those of my own blood, so don't think I will hesitate because you are one of my many followers. Just as easily as you came in can you be replaced.

The serenades of the heart do not sing through these lips, for every tramp who crosses my line of sight; my bedchamber is not strewn with the undergarments of strumpets who thought that they could pluck the strings of my heart and chip away the icy exterior and hope that they found a caring, beautiful mistress underneath it all. The battlefield of love, one could say, is not my forte, for I'd rather rip the man's heart from his chest rather than make it flutter with tender words and soft caresses. Though inhumane, sadistic, and sinful, I do have a heart, though rarely seen. I'm no romantic, I don't quote the poets of old nor do I take my beloved on moonlit walks on the veranda. My knight would not undergo senseless beatings from my hand brought forth by my rage, for others, or one minor imperfection on his behalf.

I may happen to find that lucky male who can get past the barrier I have shrouded myself in, but I wouldn't be the sappy kind of lover that would become ' whipped ' or ' wrapped around his finger ' because of his charms, nor would I become the drone that will obey his every beck and call. From that one would question why a man would want to remain my lover - the answer is simple, my dear. I am exotic upon appearance, and though cruel, I do have some heart when it comes to love. The one I would consider my mate would be protected like a rare flower, and if another so much as glances at him the wrong way, they'll end up without a throat. Little love nothings would be whispered in his ear when we lay together at night, but he can never expect me to bow down and kiss the very earth in which he stands, nor must he expect me to never raise my voice when my ire grows with his insubordination, and where other females of my persona would be terrified of expressing their love in front of others, I have no such fear; let them see that he is mine, let them envy the beauty that sits on my throne!

On a final note, others would consider me bold, for my actions come quicker than my thoughts of the reactions that will follow. I tend to do things that others wouldn't ever dream of doing! Though this may seem like foolish behavior, I'm quite intelligent and I like a challenge, thus, I must think quickly and be on my toes at all times. This, my dears, is who I am; don't like it? Then don't interact with me, it's as simple as that.

Porcelain laced legs with the grace of a gliding phantom were neatly straightened as elegant as the posture of a Cherubim. As striking, icy blue eyes lay forward, directed to the cement path that cut through a desolated park. Thoughts came and went as quickly as the clamor of thunder vibrated the sky, like raging Gods at war. Face contorted into one of utter disgust; though would simply not do when she had the mindset of the spoiled, beautiful Queen that would only accept clothing embroidered in thinly forged gold and the finest lace money could buy.

Queen? How can she hold myself so high, you ask? Guinèvere was Divinity’s creature, mesmerizing those that watched her. By the taffeta-ley of my hips that held sway that was where the captivation was held, she was a Queen of golden-honey hair, that was light as the morning blankets that fell during the winter months-far beyond compare, ebony lips were attuned to symmetry, eyes often sought her everywhere; their dark liquored eyes proved to be a nightmare. No, it wasn’t the watercolors she shone in like a pearl in pond life.

Crossing her field of vision, did she only see the frightened face of a golden, spiney mouse. Had it been running from something that had threatened its life? What a horrid idea to run across her, anything edible would slide down her greedy gullet any time. With ease did Guinèvere slam slender fingers that sought the creature's neck, to hold it still, though not sharp enough to pierce skin, but with light force, did she dig her nails in, until the cooling feeling of blood seeped under the nail and down her wrist from the frightened and pain-filled creature.

Lowering her head, enough to where she could see with clear vision her appetizer, and so the nasty creature could not grab her nose.

“Oh, what a horrid life for you, poor vermin. Living in constant fear of an encounter like this, day in and out. Tell me, does it give you nightmares?"

There was a soft giggle, and it stopped all together. Cold it was, dripping with the mortal insanity.

“Your time is soon, my friend.”

Snatching up the furry being between her fingers, Guinèvere flung it up with a delighted grin at hearing the further frightened squeal and the light splash of blood that fell below and down her throat, it came down between the same jaws it had just been freed of. Molars tore and ground flesh, organs, and bones alike; only able to taste the juice in which flowed since it spilled from decaying lips, tainting ivory with crimson, and finally scarfing the deal animal down her tubes did she carry on.

She had no intention of hunting humans, so animals were her primary subjects, and unlike most vampires, she devoured the entire body, bone, fur, and all. Most found it sickening, but hey, better than prowling for a human.

Her nostrils caught yet another scent, a scent that was thoroughly distinguishable from the human reek; the creature's body temperature was abnormally high, that's why she suspected it a "creature", and it held another bittersweet tang that lingered of its skin.

Werewolf.

She curled her lips, as much as she was a good vampire, she could simply not stand them.

Ooc: Mind if I post? ^^

[melina]

Dreary feeling, were never welcome, they often were mini premonitions of impending doom. Like that feeling you sometimes had when you felt like you forgot something. Like if you left the oven on, or the coffee pot. Did you lock the door. All the feelings that you had when you were supposed to be at another place, at that same moment you were in. Mystics called it being psychic, others said it was just a sixth sense that had yet to be tapped by the brain. Others called it paranoia. Some even said it was depressions.

But none of these were symptoms that I felt, why am I feeling like this right now. Like there is someone watching me that I can’t see. I felt the doom of being watched, it usually meant someone who wants me dead. Wants me out of the picture, what have I done to deserve this from said person who is watching me? The dreary feeling of being different from everyone else around you. The constant worry do others around you feel it too. Why do I feel like this so much? Feel like I’m losing my mind, the taunting of watch your back someone is going to kill you and no one is going to care.

What about my boyfriend though, my dear sweet loving boyfriend who I love back. He knows what I am he’d miss me right. I hope he would, I want to be with him for as long as possible, but worries always come up. Is he in danger around me, I’ve never been near him during the full moon. I always tell him he has to stay away from me what if I killed him that would be his head on my conscience, and I couldn’t bear to live like that.

With him my world is perfect much like a dream, of a dream. Dream a little dream of me, is a great song to describe how I feel with him. I hope he does still love me and will continue loving me. I couldn’t bear it if I lost him, I’m lost in this dream of a dream of mine. Wake up, focus, there is something watching you locate it.

Twenty four years of life, most of my twenties spent as a werewolf, trying to be a human. Is that ridiculous. I loved my life where it was going until I got bit, the blood, oh my god the blood, should I have bled to death. White wasn’t a favorite color in any case, but seeing the way the world flashed white with pain that seared through me. It was searing pain from the origin out, my boyfriend flashed before me making my world fuzzy.

Dying, dying would have been easy, just let go, stop, cease to live to function. Die like Louisa’s sister did, in a car accident, where she had her brain coming out of her eyes ears and nose because of a rupture somewhere inside of the girls head. How only seconds before she was staring at me and Louisa and then the under part of her eyes started to get black and doctors and nurses came around and not even an hour later.

I made boundaries, and at some point, I made a decision, boundaries, don’t keep people out of my life they fence my life in. It’s messy but that is how we were made right, but I made the choice not to waste my life away with boundaries, there would be lines but I have to decide whether or not to cross them. I had decided and I ended up werewolf, I had to grow up then, quit being that little kid that believe in fairy tales and fantasize about what my life would be. And even now I still have that smallest hope I’ll wake up and my life will be what I wanted it too be.

Curly blonde hair was being pushed out of the semi tanned face of Melina’s. She wasn’t dressed down to day. She was in a pair of heeled sandals and jeans and a top that let her cleavage be shown just slightly more than appropriate but less than provocative or promiscuous. She suddenly had that feeling that her life was spiraling out of control again and nothing she could do would stop it. The scent of blood. Fresh blood.

Something that told her that she should be moving, but she caught another scent. The scent of death the scent of old death the kind that no one really noticed unless you had a really great sense of smell. Only one creature under the sun had that sent about them, vampires, don’t get her wrong vampires weren’t the worst things on the planet but that sickly sweet smell of something that should be gone was too much for her.

Of course Melina was quite parshall to the sent of her boyfriend, his musky, I try too hard scent. This scent that was easy for her to love and be herself with how she’d let him do things to her and she’d always smell his scent on her long after she’d showered and stuff.

[angelique]

How long had it been since she was able to sit in this tree without running the risk of being chased off? Head was held high to establish to all who might see her overhead that again these were her lands and that wasn't going to change anytime soon, if she could help it. Nose flared, and lithe muscles twitched to hearken the nocturnal symphony that played in harmonious tune and danced in melodious rhythm. Crickets played their violins, while the jackals howled out with a siren's voice to lure any stranger that would happen upon their den; jaws twisted into a malicious grin while they wore an innocents mask to cover their intentions and they dance in primal circles so alluring that you can't help but to join them, but their thoughts of stringing you up by your hocks are still hidden, their desire to slit your throat and bathe in your blood is overwhelming! – and for purpose? Only to achieve the ever sought after dream of immortality. Though sick by nature and mental disease, these were not my wishes so fret not stranger, she will not bathe in that delicious liquid that flows through your veins.

Annoyance was written clearly on Guinèvere's face like a black pen upon white paper; stunning crimson, amber, and hazel eyes rolled to emphasize this. There was nothing she could say because my prey had suddenly come into her field of vision.

Long, dancer legs in silent treads upon the limbs of the trees, moved in caution to ensure that she did not fall, and yet she held my own delicate grace, but with a lithe frame of ripples and curves - Guinèvere was far above regal - like her own, she could not get down without some kind of difficulty, surely this werewolf heard the tree breaking and her feet as they came to the ground suddenly, so she would not end her days in a tragic accident. As quickly as she had fallen, her composure was regained, every part of her body holding a prideful arrogance, or what she liked to call dominance, agile muscles twitching with the veteran power she held, as hazel painted eyes scanned the intruder's body. Werewolf. Exactly.

Caution lurked into Guinèvere's pose and gait as her approach was steady and eyes even more scrutinizing with a harsh glare. Her throat did not vibrate with the threats of a growl, but she allowed the thoughts to be clear with the curling of lips. Just a few feet kept the two from one another, her footfall ceased and the sound was replaced with her sing-song voice.

But you must know, my songs create illusions of your desires, or your fears. Either to have you work for them or against them. They were beautiful, hypnotizing, and soothing to any ear who had the pleasure of listening. The song of the Nighten Gale would be what I call them, my hymns. For really I had no name for what I could do, and the Nighten Gales’ song was so pretty.

“And I suppose you're here for a reason as am I,”

Each syllable was laced with a hint of a sadistic melody.

“Well let's hear it, along with your name. I haven't time nor patience to listen to the excuses of thieves and the babbling of fools, so make your tale grand.”

And of course she had to wait for the werewolf to respond. How fun.

Who am I to sound as if these human lands are mine? Hell, I'm a rebel, as so, I have no limits when it comes to breaking the rules, I take them, mutilate them, rip their meaning of existence, and then throw the carcasses somewhere and act as if it had never happened. Neutrality wasn't exactly my cup of tea.

And she stood there, stretched out even further, her body so skinny and Goddess-like, curvy and supple, and nearly desiring for any male who laid eyes on her. Now, don’t go thinking she's a whore - that is not entirely true. She was a Vampire that held dark desires, and because of her great power, it changed her into a seductress. Transforming that once puppish-shy mistress into a lovely, stop and stare, sort of lady. She was such a tease?

She grinned.