Peredhil

Naw. If The Reincarnation can merit an advertisement under the guise that we can write War Arrows, you should be good. Can you be a Reporter?

Powerful. Nice resolution, hints of taking control away from the other and embracing it yourself. Hate is a powerful emotion, but basically a helpless one, because the one hating spends their time thinking about the other one instead of helping themself and others. Too often the object of hatred, as is hinted in this case, doesn't feel guilt at all. Most people are Right in their own minds, and everyone has an excuse. By the way, Welcome to the Pen. Hugs

PM Lumpenproletariat.

OoC: Woody, the Recruiting Office door, is sentient. Not many other than Peredhil know this. Best described in Rune's Application Actually, quite a few doors, walls, halls, and sometimes entire buildings (Reverie's Castle) have various levels of intelligence if one Listens. The perfect snowfall in the Courtyard recently was done by the Pen Keep itself.

Guido dances into the room (poorly) bobbing up and down and jerking about. Those who know him know this is his Happy Dance, while those who don't look carefully for a foaming muzzle. I done did it! I answered da Sphinx's riddles and kept my food!!! OoC: Oh my aching head.

Peredhil greets Door, and looks into the office in search of Melba or Wyvern, in time to hear Equester's question. Oh, it's really quite easy to function under self-restraints. One needs only to own all opinions and ideas instead of assuming that reality supports one's own point of view as the only point of view. For instance, I'm not certain gravity exists, suspecting it is actually a misrepresentational side-effect of another force. Really doesn't matter of course (so few things do), as we all proceed the same under its influence whether we believe in it or not. Discuss ideas, not people. Be Polite. Hmmm, I guess it all comes down to respecting one another's right to be different. Bows, hugs Tanuchan, and drifts away after a Polite farewell to Door.

Nice imagery. Somehow, in the small hours of the morning, a well-lit home seems coldest and emptiest. Brrr. I'm not sure in this case that not being alone is a Good thing or a Bad thing though...

Guido says, "Yo, youse kin post anyt'ing dat dat silly sphinx and I have spoken."

Neato! Another IRC assisted triumph.

Watching Tzimfemme leave he smiled fondly after her. He was really quite amazed at the turnout the booth had had. ... Later, in the Cabaret, he was trying to decide what to do with his money... And came up with a Lending Booth idea. (OoC, thank you all for making this such a success. )

It makes sense. About the only one which has to be stretched in my opinion is "condig". It can be used there, but I'd always thought that contextually it has more of a sense of being used in reference to being deserved for punishment or wrongdoing of some type, which is opposition to the sense drawn by saying that the prevarication is not nocent. I'm willing to forgive that because of the clever contrast drawn between gelidity and conflagrant. Pendantic Peredhil

LOL!

Ummm, It's in blue because it was an edit for clarity. I rarely go back and edit my works, so, since I changed something, I wanted it to stand out. That way anyone who'd read it previously would know where the change was. Although, I can see how it would be confusing!

(Yeah. Part of his fluff. Elladan was Jack the Ripper in a different Plane. He's a rather complex sociopath, but basically a nice guy...)

Guido squeals happily and jumps out on the floor. Carefully tapping his foot until he has the beat, he then proceeds to totally ignore it by bouncing up and down rapidly. As he bounces, he alternately frowns and points his paws at others, and smiles while pointing his paws at himself. His liquid brown eyes gleam with excitment. He loves dancing, and by the laughter he always draws, others love watching him dance. Soon he starts leaping and spinning wildly, still to his internal off-beat rhythm. "Ya! Ya! Com'n youse bums! Dance! Dance!"

*hugs all* No matter what the next year brings, I count on the Pen to be something on which I can consistently count.

Looking rather bewildered at how he got all his Geld when all he wanted to do was support the Guilds, Peredhil glumly considered what to do with it all. He could approach Wyvern for help, but last time that didn't work out well. He'd prospered and Wyvern had hurt himself. Looking up, he noticed Guido and Nuncio looking bashfully at him. Oddly, Nuncio appeared to be wearing a large bandage or diaper under his pants, and walked funny. "Yesss?" "Yo Boss." As usual when they wanted something, Guido did the talking. "Kin we borrow some dough?" "Sure. How much." "Fifteen clams each. Weese wants to bid on dates wit' da Dames." Passing out the money to the two, Peredhil reflected that he'd already put his bids in - small ones so as not to hog all the dates. Taking the money, the two Guinea Pigs scurried away to find Ayshela and place their bids. Well, Guido scurried. Nuncio limped. (For details, see the Grim Reaper's Carnival Event.) Moments later, Elrohir came in and shyly borrowed a small amount of geld. When Elladan showed up and demanded Geld for a date, Peredhil stopped everything and stared. "Are you sure?" "Yes." "This isn't revenge of some type is it?" Elladan wryly smiled at Elrond's tactful way of putting things. After the London episodes, The Peredhil had a a Talk with Elladan. His memory flinched away from it still. Few things cowed him, but Elrond had been an Elf-lord for a very very long time. So for a while, if a woman had upset him, he'd simply made love to them. Holding them slightly beyond the limits of their pleasure. Usually they spent the rest of their lives trying anything to recreate the experience. Unfortunately, one had committed suicide after he'd refused to see her again. His mind flinched from continuing the memory. Dad had not been Polite, gentle, or understanding, but rather enraged. He supposed he might still be capable of that, but it would be easier to just never ever do that to someone again. "No, I found someone who interests me, and I am putting in a small bid on her. If someone else wants to overbid, that's fine. I won't do anything to either of them." Peredhil relaxed, and leaned back gesturing to the piles of Geld before him. 'Dan took 50 Geld and quirked an eyebrow at his father. "You know, you're never gonna use all this. Why don't you open a lending booth to those who want to bid but haven't had time to earn geld?" After he left, Peredhil sat in contemplation for some time... PEREDHIL'S LENDING BOOTH!!! BORROW GELD NOW FOR THE AUCTION, PAY LATER. Terms: You may borrow up to 25 Geld, for which you commit to either: Writing a 500+ word short story (please check spelling and grammar.) OR Writing a Sonnet (see Aleaha's excellent threads for details) Either one is due 31JAN2005. You may borrow up to 50 Geld, for which you commit to either: Providing meaningful feedback on five poems which do not have meaningful feedback yet. (be sure to PM whomever you pick. Some have gone inactive.) OR Picking an item in the Critic's Corner and working with the author to complete it. Either one is due 28FEB2005. This offer lasts until the Carnival is over, or 500 Geld have been borrowed, whichever comes first.

Elrohir was wildly throwing snowballs and not hitting anyone. His cheeks shone red and his breath steamed happily in the air as he realized the magical snow of the Pen's Keep replenished as he made snowballs. This was perfect. Taking a small break in his barrage (and taking a few spattering hits in the process, he rolled up some big snowballs (which packed perfectly and didn't fall apart while rolling) and made a small fortress. Within minutes he was throwing snowballs again. Whooosh! A string of six snowballs whizzed in formation around Venefyxatu's head, causing his hair to rise then settle with the wind raised by their passage. Venefyxatu didn't even blink any more. He'd noted that Elrohir's snowballs hadn't hit him except when he dodged. Shooosh! A high looping shot hit the wall just above Kasmandre's head, waking the cranky old Mage. Zing! Oooops. A snowball thrown in sheer exuberance actually hit someone. The neato necro gnomie girl Minta took one on the chest while she was incoming from the direction of Wyvern's booth. Elrohir had MEANT that one to hit the front of the Kissing Booth, but... He winced, then smiled as instead of pouting, Minta shrieked in delight and returned fire! What he didn't realize was that Minta had just been Tagged, for IT was hiding in that snowball... He didn't even see Bravery... Suddenly, the snowball fight was on!

(It is actually the religion of Jechum, Diety of Magic now. His character was Helenwaite. He was MOST persuasive.)

I'd just like to step Out of Character for a moment and note: I don't know where Ozy is getting these, but I'm getting a headache solving them. I haven't thought this hard around corners since the last time Jechum played my world and tried to convince me to let him start a new religion. Sheesh...

And now having zipped through the alphabet, missing some who should be here (DL Snake), and not being able to express what I feel about some (Vigil, the other Rational man, and someone for whom I've grown to have friendship and great respect ), I've come to a conclusion. The English language, and particularly the American culture's dialect, lacks words for all the shades of love. The love of a parent for child, and child for parent. Of a student toward teacher, but the different shading of the ego investment which modifies the love back toward the pupil. The hundred blends of friendship and respect and companionship that determine the love of friendship. How do I express the love I have for Kenn, even as I'm very very wary of his need to protect himself behind the Kendricke avatar. How do I express the love and awe I have of a Geldrinhor? There is love of God and God's love for us in myriad rainbow colors resonating through people toward each other, how do I express that? And how do I speak to the deeper issues of hearts that I've learned, the things people cover up because they could hurt if a careless or non-understanding remark were made? Such things shackled my tongue here, leaving left-overs for me to feel safe in posting, lest I reveal something personal to another. I did many posts, all far too short, all far short of what I really feel. Thank you for the chance to give a recognition to a few of you. If you weren't listed, it wasn't I was ignoring you or unfeeling, it's prolly because either you weren't a member (I skipped the Honored Guests), or because I was at a loss for words to express.. Heh, all those hugs have made me squishy and embarassing to be around in some ways, but I consider the Pen my online family, which includes the concepts: "You can pick friends, you're stuck with family" or even better from Disney's Lilo and Stitch, "Ohana means family, and family means no one gets left behind."

*hugs Appy* You shouldn't EVER delete a post that is trying to be positive. Your honest opinion is your honest opinion and should always feel free here at Pen to post it. Besides, that's pretty good advice.

*hugs* Prayers are always answered if spoken with believing. Sometimes we just don't like what we hear. This one, God has my approval.

The problem with "being better than nothing" in someone's eyes is that when anyone or anything comes along that is worth anything - there's no reason to say "no". Mathematically, if a person is just hanging around for familiarity (better than nothing, 0), anything greater than 1 is hard to resist. Scratches his head. Have I confoozled you completely, as Winnie the Pooh might say? Edit: Oh! Oh! Read what Reverie said! He said it so much better. *hugs the big R.*

Shudders at the thought, and then begins laughing as he begins speculating what Tzimfemme can do given carte blanche permission.... This concert suddenly looks MUCH more lively...