K
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Post by K on Sept 25, 2008 4:22:55 GMT -5
(( : D I was hoping somone would mention the obvious dark presense he would put out.))
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Post by Black Cherry Cola on Sept 25, 2008 17:25:05 GMT -5
((The dark presence was obvious? People have dark presences?))
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K
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Post by K on Sept 25, 2008 23:43:55 GMT -5
((I presume then you haven't read anything about Daniel. He's like... Uber-Evil to the max +1!))
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Post by Obscure Stranger on Sept 26, 2008 12:21:14 GMT -5
(he is a very scary man)
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Post by Black Cherry Cola on Sept 26, 2008 13:56:12 GMT -5
((But that doesn't mean he has a "dark presence." He just probably looks . . . I don't know, demented. But this is just kind of after a plane crash, would anyone really notice it? Daniel isn't "evil," [there is no real definition, anyway] unless you consider suicide-bombers "evil" [and they're not, really] or terrorists "evil" [they just like to provoke terror.] He just has a thus far inexplicable love for death and the suffering of others. I don't think the Uni Bomber had an "evil" presence about him. Nor those mass murderers you hear about on crime shows. Otherwise, they would be caught with a simple "He looked suspicious, so we brought him in for questioning, snagged his DNA, and lo and behold! He's our killer." Think how many people we could have saved on 9/11. Artemis Fowl was pretty "evil." He was a protagonist, and the series was written to view all law officials as "evil," although they were preventing the "evil" acts of a prodigy. And anyone who stepped into his turf, and the fairies who were trying to do the right thing . . . "evil" is a very subjective term, and it really only applies to stories with a plot [frankly, this is comparatively plotless]. Plus, he was pretty damn cute [according to the story], definitely not someone with a "dark presence." Ohh! Another prime example, which Kayla will appreciate: Raskolnikov from Crime and Punishmen. He murdered two women for no apparent reason, and the reader finds themselves hoping he isn't caught. By the way, he never put out a sinister aura. Same with Albert Camus' Meursault from The Stranger. He murders a man in cold blood, for no apparent reason - the only reason he's caught is because he is an example of existentialism, and tells the authorities "I did it." [basically] There definitely was no aura about him - at all. He had no feeling, therefore he had no aura; no aura of kindness, no aura of darkness, no aura of caring. [It's a good book, you should read it sometime if you're not planning on going into AP English - unless it's not part of your curriculum, then go read it anyway.] By the way, why are people letting dead bodies lie around? I mean, I know they're kind of gross, but they're a bit of a health hazard. [and despite the size of the plane, I'm getting the feeling that the casualties are in the hundreds]
Just saying.))
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K
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Post by K on Sept 26, 2008 14:24:54 GMT -5
((Actually. (not to be a nit-picker or anything but) Artemis Fowl did make the faries shiver (even though I consider Artemis bad, not evil, then nuetral, then good), *is currently re-reading* And in my belief and experience there is such thing as good and evil. Some people, in my opinion, do in fact give themselves away. Call it aura, call it acting slightly off, there is usually something. The show Dexter was about a guy who kills people and he only gave one person the creeps but it is still something. Some people are just sensitive to these things. Now don't take me as a very supersticious person, becuase I am not. Anyways, if a guy just walked next to you sat down, silently. wouldn't that give you the creeps? Not saying hello or anything? But I still think anyone who was open would be able to sense it. Granted, they would likely ignore it, push off the feeling as something else, not even pay attention to it like people do, and they would likely get along with him just fine..... Until he wanted to hack them up or something. People are leaving bodies lying around now propably becuase no-one has said they are picking them up. Anyways, It's day one. Better to worry about shelter food and healing of the injured first, then dead bodies. maybe the second day. Granted that would be even grosser cuase they would be exposed to the elements but it is unsanitary. Also, do you have any idea what injury she has. I can only think of two possibilities. Heart attack and rib breaking into heart. Either way she is going to have to ride it out or die... Maybe if I was actually in medical school I could do it better... But the heart is a hard one. : ) ))
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Post by Black Cherry Cola on Sept 26, 2008 15:27:20 GMT -5
((xDD Yeahh, I do, but it's not literally of the heart. Her daughter is dead - her heart is breaking. Physically, I haven't really figured out her injuries. I think I'll go with sprained limbs and bruised body part. Faries are magical. It's, like, their job to be super sensitive about that. Plus, Artemis was/is freaking hella smart (ugh, still need to get my hands on the latest novel, even though the plot sound laaaame-oh.) If anyone sat down next to me (and I go to class every day except Fri/Sat/Sun, and get loads of people who sit next to/kinda near to me without saying a word) be they male or female, yeah I'd be creeped out. But I'm a naturally paranoid person. They might not say anything because they're shy. Someone who wants to go undetected would ease into society - unless Daniel is looking to make it dead obvious he killed 19 people, stowed their bodies, and fled the countries, I'm pretty sure he'd be elegant about being a murderer. Try getting him to, I don't know, not be creepy. Unless he's a obvious-hunter, in which case . . . I'm not sure how he made it out of the country.))
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Itsaki
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Post by Itsaki on Sept 27, 2008 2:37:58 GMT -5
((Since when did this turn into an OOC board??? Get back to the story. And since no one likes him, I'll get rid of Matt. Geez. Way to have any creativity around this place.))
Mark stirred, moving his head and waking Rachel in the process. His entire body was just one dull ache. Rachel lay on his left side, holding his hand. He could feel the warmth and the kindness flowing off of her. It felt good, comforting, it made him forget his pain. His right arm had been casted, his back felt as though the metal had been removed, and his leg felt more...aligned. His ribs still hurt, but what could be done about those right now? Rachel leaned her head up, noticing that there were now two sets of healthy breathing, one was the girl, the other was a man that was not there before, his breathing was deeper. Mark's breath still came in ragged gulps. His hand was still intertwined in hers, his hands were warmer now. Mark looked aorund. He saw a man that he knew had not been there before. /Was he? I don't remember him. But, then again, I don't remember much right now./ He tried standing, at first he failed, releasing Rachel's hand just in time to catch himself on the way back down. A pain shot through his back and he grimaced. He tried again, using his good arm to push himself up until he could bend his left knee under him to support himself. Rachel helped him up, and he was soon standing uneasily on his left leg, his left arm around Rachel's shoulders, standing on one leg. Rachel helped him hobble along the beach, eventually he put his right foot down on the ground. He winced, but the sand was soft enough to absorb some impact, but it still hurt, right in his shin. Rachel slid out from under him and he balanced carefully, most of his weight on his left leg. Rachel ran to the trees and searched until she found a stick, it was straight and study, and she found another just like it. She ran back to Mark, placing the two sticks on the sides of his leg, then used another strip from her torn shirt to secure the sticks to his leg. When she finished, he put more weight on his leg. "That feels better." He said. He could now put more weight on the leg, and it didn't hurt so much. "Thanks." He told her. "No problem." She grabbed his hand, and he looked at her. She was very pretty, and Mark looked forward again. The two walked down the beach, towards where a group of survivors were gathered.
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K
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Post by K on Sept 27, 2008 4:32:46 GMT -5
Daniel followed the two like a shark. Silently watching them as a panther would watch it's prey, never taking his eyes off of them. He realized that the one tending to the cripple ws blind, she didn't show it very well. Maybe, if they stayed together, created a bond, He would knock the cripple down and make him unable to move as he killed the blind one, letting him watch, before killing the cripple. So much time, so many possibilities. He didn't like he other girl, she slightly shivered and shied away from him, barely noticibly but when you watch people like he did...
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Itsaki
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Post by Itsaki on Sept 27, 2008 9:48:27 GMT -5
Mark and Rachel walked towards the group, Rachel could hear the other man behind them. /What is his problem? Why is he following us?/ She thought. Rachel could hear the man's voice now, the man that the other people had crowded around.
"We should make at least some ceremony for the dead, don't you think?" A man voiced. He was tall, just over six feet, incredibly muscular with broad shoulders and a crew cut head, a poweful jaw and a voice that sounded as though it should be commanding an army... Which it did. Matt Alero was returning home from Korea, where his family couldn't travel with him. He was a Sergeant Major in the army, close to being promoted to Command Sergeant Major, the highest rank he could achieve. He had spent over twenty years in the army, he was disciplined, but he still had a compassionate heart. "If we don't do something with the bodies, we'll all get diseases and die. Besides," he glanced at the children around. "What do you think the children think, seeing all of these dead people." Memories of the past war flooded his mind, of people and children, military and civilian, lay dead in the streets. He waved the thought away. "And we need to prepare some adequate shelter, mostly for the wounded, and we need to look for medicine and clothes, as well as fresh water and food. We'll need everyone's help, so if you can walk and carry things, you need to help."
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Post by Obscure Stranger on Sept 29, 2008 14:31:04 GMT -5
Vivian saw the man following the other two, she didn't know what his problem was, but he made her very uncomfortable, h was hiding something, that was for sure. The way he watched them. She shook her head and lowly stood up to follow them, lagging behind so that she wouldn't have to walk with them, she wanted to think.
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K
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Post by K on Sept 29, 2008 23:44:38 GMT -5
Lily finaly made it to the wreckage site. The trees had all been knocked down and you cold see a good ways out to sea. She was pleased to make it but very disapointed. No-one was there. She looked around her newly gained vantage point, searching for a group of people. She could see only one little bundle of people, almost exactly the way she came. She sighed, making it known to the world that she really didn't want to have to travel all the way back down again.
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Post by Obscure Stranger on Oct 3, 2008 10:33:16 GMT -5
Annabel coughed harshly, spitting out ocean water, the sight she met when she looked up was horrible to say the least, she saw blood. She pulled herself up on the beach carefully, she hurt so much. She crawled slowly toward the people standing on the sand. Her emerald green eyes watched as a man spoke orders, telling the other people what to do. "He seemed to know what he was doing and the other people seem nice," she thought. The 23-year old slowly stood up to follow the group of people, not wanting to be left alone. The dark brown curls framing her face were slightly damp from the ocean water, blood and dirt coating every inch of her body, her clothes ripped and wet. Shivering, she wrapped her zip-up jacket around her, trying to block out the cold.
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Post by Black Cherry Cola on Oct 5, 2008 1:19:11 GMT -5
Devlyn squinted her eyes at the kid, Mari. She thought back to the plane; she had been squished into those impossibly small economy seats, between the window and - ah, yes, Mari! Of course, they had a delightful conversation during take-off. With a smile, Devlyn relaxed her face and wrapped a reassuring arm around Mari's shoulder. "Of course I remember you, Mari! I'm so glad you made it out. How are you feeling? Are you okay? How is Gund?"
From a more secluded part of the island, thrown through the cockpit window and landing like a crumpled ragdoll, a groan emitted from one Kinshasa Zhar. The young African woman had been one of the flight attendants, as well as the daughter of one successful politician and businesswoman from New York. She worked in an effort to escape the otherwise elaborate lifestyle, and add to her already established riches. Now, however, she looked less than elegant. Her smooth, chocolate-coloured skin was scraped and bloodied. Shards of glass were embedded in her hands, legs, face, neck - anywhere her uniform miniskirt or suit jacket didn't cover her. The nylon stockings didn't save her, and she had lost one of her shoes in the transition. Kinshasa lay still, not eager to open her eyes and reluctant to open her mouth. She could hear people someway away; she wasn't sure where, and she wasn't sure how far, but she hoped they would stumble on her.
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Itsaki
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Post by Itsaki on Oct 6, 2008 8:39:21 GMT -5
Alex opened his eyes precariously. He hesitated, afraid of what he would see when he opened them, where he was or what was around him. He opened them slowly to find that he was facing leaves. A lot of leaves in fact. He was in a tree. He could feel his body sagging between a branch that went across his thighs and a branch that went across his chest. He was caught in a sort of cradle. He began to panic, remembering the events that led to his being in a tree. He was sitting in first class, he was the son of the pilot. One of the flight attendants told him that his dad wanted to see him in the cockpit, so he went up and sat in a little chair behind his dad. His father showed him what the different buttons and levers and panels did, and showed him what the different readouts meant, in layman's terms. Then all of the sudden everything went all haywire and he remembered the plane being thrown out of control. But the entire time, even as the plane descended into a steep nosedive, he never remembered there being land, especially not tropical land. He remembered curling up in a corner as his dad and the co-pilot frantically pushed buttons and flipped switches and tried to get everything under control. His dad told him to hang onto something. He remembered the flight attendant, the one that he had talked to earlier, flying through the window. Then he remembered following her. He went into survivor mode, remembering that he wasn't a little kid anymore, he was sixteen, and he had seen plenty of those cheesy surviving shows, but now he needed to put all of those mindless hours of TV into action. He flexed his limbs, nothing was seriously injured, they were sore, probably some bruising. It did hurt to breath though, his ribs probably got banged up, there was no sharp pain in any particular place, so those were probably just bruised too. He grabbed onto the branch that held his chest and slid his legs off of the other branch, now hanging a couple of feet above the ground. He released, and dropped the rest of the way down. His legs collapsed below him, and he layed on the ground for a moment before taking a breath and heaving himself straight up onto his feet, ignoring the sound protests from his knees and shoulders. He stretched, his back and limbs cracking many times. He felt loose now. He looked above him, there was a slight gap in the trees. The light of the day was quickly faded, he had been unconcious for a while. His survive mode told him that he needed water, shelter, and fire. It also told him that all of that could be found in the cockpit, assuming that the pilots' bags were still in there. The cockpit was suspended in the tree above him, striaght above where he had awoken, suspended in a web of broken branches from several trees. Alex sighed, and winced, then rubbed his hands together and began his climb up the tree. His arms and legs ached a dull throb all the way up, and his chest and ribs screamed every time he took a breath that was too deep or a branch made its way across them. He eventually made it to the top, and sure enough, four bags were strewn around the cokpit, one was Alex's small bag that he had taken with him when his father called him into the cockpit, one was his dad's one was the co-pilot's, and the other was the reserve pilot's. Alex reached a hand out through the destoyed back of the cockpit, a large gaping hole where the rest of the plane should have been. He grabbed a good armful of fairly dry branches and some dead leaves, arranging them in a sort of teepee in the middle of the cabin floor. He reached into his dad's bag, his dad had smoked, but was trying to quit, but Alex knew that he would at least have a lighter. Alex found a lighter and a pack of opened cigarettes. He opened the box, pleased to find that none of the cigarettes was gone, though one looked as though it had been nervously rolled between one's fingers many times, as though they were contemplating whether they should smoke it or not. Luckily, it was not. Alex used the lighter to begin a small fire with his pile, reaching out to grab several more armfulls of dry twigs and leaves, he piled them in a corner in case the fire got low. His small bag had a bottle of juice that he had made before leaving home, he hadn't opened it...yet. It also had a half full bottle of water, and some beef jerky that his mom had packed him. His dad's also had beef jerky and Alex seperated the food in one corner, behind the pilot's seat, and the drinks in another, behind the co-pilot's seat. Alex pulled on a sweater, it was getting dark, and it would get cold. Alex pulled a long wire from the dashboard, using it to string across the back of the cockpit. He tied the end of a sleeve of a long-sleeved shirt to the cable and tied some other sirts to it, making a half screen across the back of the cockpit, and he tied some more shirts to them, making a full screen, this would help keep the warmth in. He was worried about his dad and everyone else on the plane. He couldn't be the only one that survived. There had to be more people. He broke the hing on the back of the pilot seat so that it layed back as far as it could, resting against the large cabinet that stood behind it. It was almost all the way back, though. He layed down on it, the fire crackling next to him, and he poked at it with a long stick. He pulled his mp3 player out of his bag and placed the headphones over his ears, and he slowly drifted off to the sound of a classical violin piece.
Mark tried not to sleep, he had had a long nap earlier, yes, but he was still tired. He was glad to be beside Rachel, though, she helped calm him. He listened to both men. They were both right. "We should find where the plane landed, it has everyone's bags, it should help us survive for a while." Rachel said. "And tomorrow we should search for a stream or something. It's getting late, though, and it will begin getting cold. Those of us who are not dead may be dead by morning if we don't get fire." "I agree." Mark said. /Of course you do./ Rachel thought, and stood closer to him, one hand rubbing his arm. She leaned her head on his shoulder. "Either way, we need to do something other than stand around." Mark said.
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