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A Nightmare Come True (P, Mousen)

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1 A Nightmare Come True (P, Mousen) on Fri Jan 21, 2011 7:55 pm

Soft brush strokes marked the walls of the seemingly forgotten city, different figures moving around it. Their makers, no one really knew, for that was along ago. Now a days, with the gods and goddesses completely insane, only a few generations still had the gift of painting.

As a young girl whipped out a small old brush, she allowed it to drip onto her while thinking of what to paint on the old walls. Suddenly, footsteps came up behind her, and a hand was slapped over her mouth. She tried to whip around, but was held in place. "Draw." the voice said. Oh no, no no no! she thought to herself. One of those seekers... The seekers, as she and Elektra had named them, were sent out to see who had the talent of art still, and if they found people who did, they took them in to captivity to ensure that the propechy never came true. Or that was what most people thought, since their motives were never really confirmed. Perhaps it was the gods and goddesses who ordered them to do it out of their insaneness. Or perhaps not.

"I said draw, unless you're trying to hide something." the voice said again. Her hand shaking, she lifted her brush up, not sure what to draw. Then she simple drew a flower, one in the process of opening its bud for the spring sun. It was just there on the wall at first, but suddenly it fell to the ground. Once the seeker saw this, he pushed her to the ground beside it, slapping a shackle around each of her wrists. She struggled, but to no avail. She kept her head low as the Seeker marched her over to a cart of some sort. It looked a lot like one that you would see animals in when a travelling circus came into town, but instead of animals, there were people in there.

Of course, she didn't expect anything different, but when she caught the eye of one person, she just about fainted. Elektra.

Her sister's eyes lit up, and she mouthed, "Are you okay Sorren?" Sorren nodded back, trying not to draw any attention. The Seeker loaded her into the cramped cart, and she heard the horses (or, well, a mix between a bird, horse, and sea lion) take off.

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2 Re: A Nightmare Come True (P, Mousen) on Tue Jan 25, 2011 7:24 am

(Human form)
Something hard collided with the side of his head. It was a dismembered hand. Had he not been used to that sort of thing Travers would have screamed. From the middle of the bar a fire roared, growing up the curtains and eating its way around the room. He wasn't really paying attention to that now, despite the fact it was heading for the floor below them-- Where the brewery was. Where a good percentage of the alcohol in the City of Inkling was kept. It wasn't even that which was troubling him, the fire wasn't the thing that was weilding knives in his general direction. It wasn't the fire that was about to punch him in the face. He didn't even drink and he was in the midst of a bar fight, infact the whole bar was in the midst of a bar fight. Tables were in splinters, chairs were on fire the walls were covered in blood, ink and paint, imbedded with knives and arrows, not to mention the fact that they were on fire too. Still the fiddle players carried on, only stopping when one of them was shot. Quickly they retreated behing one of the only tables left in tact. Oh, wait-- the only table left in tact. Screams and racous laughter could be heard from down the street, along with gunshots and the muffling sound of a fire burning. The heat within the pub was stunning, it could burn a man from several feet away.

The unfortunate youth coughed, pressing a hand to the cut that ran down the side of his face. He dodged through the fighting crowd, only stopping to duck when some one swung a sheep at him. The youth was rather skinny for his age, his brown hair was filthy and too long to have been cut lately. At that point in time he was covered in soot and the paint that ran down his neck from the cut. Being an artist it meant he bled paint, being an artist meant he was never going to have a quiet life either. He'd have really liked a quiet life. He managed to get a good way down to street before the whole place erupted into flames. After the adreniline faded slightly the full extent of his injuries began to hit him. He held one hand awkwardly it felt fractured, it was just lucky it wasn't his left. Travers was left handed, as it happened.

As he was trying to work out if he still had ten fingers or double vision he felt a hand grasp around his shoulder. Without looking back he pulled away rushing inside the nearest building, the figure ran after him. Heels. So it was a female, who ever this woman was he didn't like her one little bit. He ran into room, like the rest of the building it was boarded up and provided no means of escape. "Draw." The woman spat, her voice lined with malice. Her heels clicked in a dull manner upon the rotted wooden floor. "I paint." He growled as a perfectly manacured nail pressed against a vein. "Then paint." She retorted.
Idiot. He thought, removing a paintbrush from his coat pocket. After a moment of consideration he began to paint. It seemed to be a large painting, as Travers moved slightly to the side the woman's smile faded. He'd drawn a hole in the brickwork, the wind whistled through it. The youth shot the woman a smile as he dodged out of her grasp and jumped.

He landed hard falling onto a balcony, he smiled and swung down further his feet hitting the black stone of the city. Despite jarring his fractured hand he seemed to be miraculously unharmed. It was only then he did something no artist should ever do, he let his guard down. For a moment, instead of running he took the time to catch his breath. It was then a much bigger (presumably male) figure grabbed him from behind.


"He paints with his left hand, I saw him!" The hissing female voice exclaimed to her male friend, who only grunted in reply. He threw the youth in the back before going up to talk to the figure at the front of the cart. Travers was deathly pale, that and his several injuries one might have mistaken him for dead. After a moment of laying perfectly still he swore, clearly still living. He rubbed his head gingerly, keeping his fractured right held somewhat awkwadly. "Why is this always me?" He aksed no one in particular. Traver's hadn't yet noticed that wasn't alone, he was too busy trying to work out how to escape with no paint nor any brushes.

(Failed with the ending there, sorry for the wait. Computer issues. o3o;; <3 )

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3 Re: A Nightmare Come True (P, Mousen) on Tue Jan 25, 2011 3:02 pm

"Hey. If you haven't noticed, you're kinda on top of me here." Sorren said, a bit annoyed. Of course, she wasn't annoyed at the person on top of her, but at the cruelty and disrespect these people were treating them with. Wiggling out from under the person with Elektra's help, she saw that it wasn't in fact a person at all, but some kind of owl like creature. Or no, a monkey? Or a mix of both... Shaking her head, she started to say something when Elektra cut her off. Her sister's hand slowly moved off of her mouth as one of the three or four people who had captured them walked by. He glared at them, the monkey like painter and Sorren in particular, and then went on to the front.

There was a lurch as the cart began moving forward to god knows where. But it wasn't really the location that worried the two sisters, but what would happen once they were there.

"Seeing as you were the one who landed on me, might I get your name?" Sorren asked him. "And, well, I don't suppose you know where they're going to take us from here?" She had seen the worried look in Elektra's eyes, and was trying to figure out what the best thing to do would be. She didn't have any paint, but she did have a brush. And yet, it wouldn't have been much good seeing as her hands were tied behind her back.

But then her eyes wandered over to the monkey man once again, and saw that whoever had managed to catch him hadn't bothered to worry about his hands. Which meant that their only hope was to find something to use as paint at their destination, and paint their way out of the mess they were in...

(Gosh, my post is so tiny compared to yours.... Sorry about that....)

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