Sweetcherrie

Today again I said goodbye Think that I’m supposed to cry It’s just too normal by now Too normal to say ciao People in my life they come and go Will I see them back? I just don’t know Yeah sure, I’ll write and mail But as I say it, I know I’ll fail Too many times I said the same And I have to admit with shame That I’ve never done as said There’s only been silence instead Still my in my thoughts they live And if I only could, I’d give All of them a call one day Even if it’d only be to say Hello…. OOC: Not the best poetrywise, but definitely reflects most of the students' feelings that are leaving this place at the moment....

Sweetcherrie leaned with her back against the wall, and watched as Revery announced Mira to be the winner. She smiled at his words, he might be nervous, but still he had a way with words. Each poet had been great tonight, but he was right, in a contest one had to be the winner. She looked around and saw that even Mynx was temporarily standing still and was applauding Mira. She walked over to the winner of the eveing. Mira was already being congratulated by different people and she added her hugs and congratulations. Sweetcherrie hadn’t often seen the Conservatory Room such a mess, and she started picking up empty glasses so Mynx wouldn’t have to do it all on her own.

The wind had gotten hold of the door, and it slammed shut with a bang. Sweetcherrie jumped a few centimetres in the air. She had been jumpy all day already, ever since she had decided to apply for the elite AVV guild. Nervously she looked around the room. In the corner stood a half dead cactus, some chairs were standing on one side of the room. A notice board with some yellow old papers, and a few sticky notes hung on the wall. There was a reception desk on the other side of the room, but it was deserted. From where she was standing she could see another door. She supposed it led to the office of the infamous Scarlot. Sweetcherrie had heard that this Scarlot type was a real harpy, and before she had come here she had tried to steel herself against anything this woman could possibly say. “It does look a bit quiet here, I wonder what I’m supposed to do to be accepted.” She thought, and sat down on one of the seats. She waited patiently until someone would come to the reception desk. Half an hour later she was still sitting in the chair and felt utterly bored now. She was glad that she had asked Troy to stay at home. When she had left her room the phoenix had jumped up to accompany her, but she’d patiently explained to him that she was going to do something he wouldn’t find interesting at all. The bird had looked at her as if it was saying that he didn’t care as long as he could stay with her, but had obeyed nevertheless. She smiled when she thought of him. They had recently started his training and he was rapidly improving. His wings still wouldn’t carry him, but at least he didn’t set everything on fire anymore. The other day had been amazing. Sweetcherrie had read on the mana Internet that she should be able to establish a mental connection with Troy and had asked Dana to help her. Together they had mediated, and that day Dana had finally said that she thought Sweetcherrie should be ready to try and connect with the phoenix. They had told Troy to stay put, and where he normally wouldn’t listen and ran all over the place, he had listened. As if he had known that something was going to happen. He had tilted his had and had silently watched Sweetcherrie as she concentrated. Dana had warned her that Troy would probably not think in full sentences like humans did, and that she shouldn’t expect to be able to understand what she would see during this first connection, but Sweetcherrie was hopeful. She had first only seen black behind her eyelids, but then slowly some images had come through. The first image had looked like fire, and she had thought it only natural that this was what Troy thought of most of the time. The second image had been unidentifiable to her, but she had felt warmth and affection. When she had looked up Troy had come over to her, and had laid his head in her lap. She’d had difficulties not to cry happy tears, and even Dana had looked moved by this sight. She frowned when she thought about Dana. Sweetcherrie only knew the girl for a short while, but she had taken a liking for her. The calm and tall woman was her opposite in many ways, and she felt that this was probably why they got along. Dana had been very helpful in Troy’s training, and it had even turned out that she had been able to help him with learning how to heal. Sweet, however, wasn’t too fond of Dana. She had decided that Dana was too strange and “no fun to play with” as she had put it. The little girl was like a stubborn mule with certain things, but her joie de vive made up for that. Sweetcherrie was totally lost in thought when suddenly the office door opened. A brisk looking elven woman strode past her, and without even looking up from the paper she had in her hands she walked out the door Sweetcherrie had come in through. “Odd,” she thought, but left it with that. Maybe it was less quiet than she thought, and maybe Scarlot was really busy. Another half an hour passed, and Sweetcherrie was just thinking of coming back another day, when the door opened again and Scarlot ran by once more. Sweetcherrie stood up and cleared her throat. Scarlot looked up. “What do you want?” Sweetcherrie cringed a bit under the aggravated tone, “Erm…I would like to apply.” That hadn’t sounded as if she was sure of herself at all, and she stood up straight to make sure that the dark elf would see that she was serious about this. “Tsk,” Was all the sound that came from Scarlot. She walked over to the reception desk and handed Sweetcherrie a piece of paper. “Fill that in,” and before Sweetcherrie could say anything, the elf had disappeared into her office. She sank back down on the chair and looked at the piece of paper in her hand, “Why I would be an asset to the Alliance of Vagabonds and Vanguards.” Why would she be an asset to the AVV? She didn’t have any magical powers, and most of the things she tried to do right, ended up going wrong. She had a phoenix that loved her dearly, but that wasn’t an asset. Maybe she should mention that she was really motivated to do this, but then again that was already clear from the fact that she applied. She knew she got along with most people, but that still didn’t sound like a real asset. Sweetcherrie stared at the paper, and started to get a headache from thinking. She couldn’t find one reason that they should accept her. One of her stronger points was that she could organize things pretty well, but would that be considered a good enough asset? Finally she picked up a pen and neatly wrote under the title of the paper, “Because I am who I am.” She looked at it again, and nodded satisfied. She dropped the paper on the desk, and hurried home. OOC: I hope this is what I was supposed to do, and that it's at the place it is supposed to be

Sweetcherrie wondered where Revery was. She hadn’t seen him for a while now, and after all this had been his event. She frowned and glanced over the crowd. Well, if he wasn’t inside he might just be outside. She walked past Peredhil who buried under a pile of bodyguards. This Slam Quest had done more to people than what most had expected probably. She sent a thought of good luck to the planewalker, and hoped he would receive it somehow. Poor Mynx was still running around with drinks, merrily tinkling along, and only a hurried “hi” escaped her lips as Sweetcherrie walked past her to the exit. Now where could Revery be? She looked around; night had fallen, but luckily the stars and the moon were giving enough light to see where she was going. She turned the corner and under a couple of trees she saw him pacing in circles. Sweetcherrie had once been in a zoo where she had seen a polar bear walking around in circles, and this looked much the same. She approached quietly and when she got closer she could hear the mage mumble. “Revery?” He stopped pacing, and looked at her with a confused look on his face. “Are you ok?” She wondered if she was going about this the right way, but took another step forward. “Just getting some air..” Revery was about to start moving again, “Would you like to sit down for a moment?” Sweetcherrie asked, and sat down on the floor herself. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then sat down next to her. They silently stared at the moon for a while, until she broke the silence, “You know I think that this has been a great success…actually I should say, “You’ve made” this a great success.” Sweetcherrie looked at his face; the moonlight showed her that a weak smile had appeared. She put her arms around him, and gave him a warm hug, “But I think people would like to know who the winner is, don’t you?” Revery chuckled, “Yeah, you’re probably right.” They got up together, and walked back inside.

At the moment all of the posts of Inner Quest are written. There are still some things that I'm going to look at, and see if I can rewrite them and improve on them, but at the moment the story has sort of drained me. Now I need to take bit of distance to see where I can improve, and basicly "fall out of love" with my own writing. That way I can see my own mistakes again, whereas at the moment I'm probably blind to them. Of course, any and all feedback is appreciated, the more the better

OOC: sorry Katz.....*hugs* I'm still trying to dream less weird dreams An element of a dream I elaborated on..... Dreamlogs 3 The ants are building nests, hundreds, even thousands of them. I know that they’re not supposed to be there, but I can feel them crawling. Black masses of ants, all packed on top of each other in the small space of my head. Swarming between my brains, digging tunnels in where order is supposed to be. I know that they’re there, nobody can see them, but I know that they’re there. They are trying to confuse me you know, but I know that they’re there. Swarming and wiggling black pinheads, their tiny shields shining on their backs. Little, black, swarming pinheads. Scratching your arm yet? Tsk, liar. People start getting this itchy feeling when I tell them this. They start scratching their arms, or rub their legs. Some even get that squiggly feeling of shivers down their spine. Hah, as if these ants would ever want to be on their arms. They have my warm brainstem to live in, why would they want to move somewhere else? I’m not talking about fleas you know. The ants come and go. There are days when there are only a few, and I can force them into their tunnels, and there are days when my head is just full of them. Today is one of those days. I felt them coming this morning; they marched in with millions of them at the same time. Not neatly in line like you might expect from such an organised creature. (They’re smart you know, why else would they want to live in my brain?) No, they were just spilling over my cerebral cortex like tar would spill over a full bucket. They started immediately to eat away my calmness. Bite by bite, by bite. I know that if they are there this early in the morning that I’ll have problems with them the rest of the day. I sigh, and stand up to walk to the mirror. I know I won’t be able to see them, but my antless reflection always comforts me on days like this. I touch my reflection. The mirror felt cold and cool. My forehead is wrinkleless and shows no sign of the heaps of moving little creatures that are teeming within. They are trying to make a mess out of my thoughts, but it won’t work. I won’t let it work. I…refuse…to…let…it…work! You hear! I will never let you take control! Never! When I realise I’m shouting at my reflection I calm down again, and my forehead turns wrinkleless once more. I scratch the back of my head, knowing that it won’t work, but I do it anyways. Maybe I can just poke my finger deep enough in my ear to kill them. Or maybe I only have to stick a pin through my eardrum. They’d come spilling out like tar from a full bucket. Wriggling while I stamp on them. Die! Die you! Die! I laugh, and notice that it sounds hollow in the bathroom. My reflection calmly stared back at me, and nothing wrong can be seen with my wrinkleless forehead. I move closer to the mirror and stare at the white of my eyes. Did I just saw one move? I think it snuck away in the corner of my eye. I look closer. I’m sure they’re there, if I stare long enough I’ll se them. Shiny, black little buggers! I’ll get them one day, you know, cause I know they’re there. I know they made a home in my frontal lobe, that they use my parietal lobe for dinner, and my temporal lobe for storage. I know. I walk back to the couch, and lie down. Today is one of those days that the ants have taken over. That my head is a mess, and that they are wiggling inside. I should force them to sleep and go away, but it’s too crowded in my head. I can’t think, not today. Today the ants are here. I open my mouth and stick in my finger. Maybe I can get them out that way? I feel my nose itching, and know that they’ve taken over every available spot in my head now. They’re swarming like millions of little black pinheads. I open my mouth wider, feel itching in my throat as well, and remove my finger. My tongue starts tickling. Not too bad actually, just enough to make it feel funny. Billions of small little feet march over my tongue, and try to stick out my tongue as far as possible. Will I see them? My eyes start burning from trying, but I know that they’re moving from my brains to my mouth. Thousands of black ants stream from my nose and mouth. Like tar spilling from a bucket….. One of these days I’ll find a way to get them out of my head. I’ll find a way to get rid of those itching legs, those wriggling little buggers; heaps and heaps of ants, all tickling in my head. Do you feel them? Their feet moving through your head like a feather moved in your neck. Hundreds of them in swarming through your head; their antennae touching the back of your throat if they come too close. While they all tumble over each other they writhe around like spiders can. Do you feel them? Squirming their way around inside, giving you a shiver when their disgusting bodies irritate your spine. When you feel them moving around between your ears, annoying you like a drop of cold water that fell in with your clothes and now slowly, bit by bit, is crawling along your spine. Do you feel them? When their paws are touching your skull, and when their saliva itches away on your brain cells. Do you feel them! Hah? Do you!? Itching yet? Tsk, liar.

Four things come not back: the spoken word, the spent arrow, the past, and the neglected opportunity. (Omar Idn Al-Halif)

*grins* I gues that is why we don't get along (I have to say, brilliant results, and soooo accurate) edit: *huggles Mynx* of course this is only sarcasm

Revery was nowhere to be seen, “Must be busy with the organization,” she thought and decided to check out the machine herself. The big wheels were still slowly turning when she arrived in the corner of the room. “Ok, lets see. Hmm…play...no…stop…probably a good idea,” Sweetcherrie mumbled and pressed the stop button. The big wheels stopped turning, “well that went rather ok…now…how to listen to what has been recorded…” She studied the buttons but didn’t find a button that would rewind the spools. She pressed some other buttons, and the spools started turning again, but forward. “No…this is not what I was looking for.” Suddenly the wheels turned faster and faster, and she could see all the tape ending up at the right spool. “uhoh..” The tape had caught lose from the left spool and the end bit was now flapping around the right one. “Now what do I do?” Sweetcherrie pressed the stop button, and looked around if someone was around to help fix what she had broken. Everybody was busy doing his or her own things, “I shouldn’t have fiddled with something as technical as this…there must be a way.” “Need some help with that?” the shadowy figure that she had spotted earlier stood next to her. Sweetcherrie jumped a bit when she heard the voice so close to her, it had sounded familiar but she couldn’t exactly place it. The stranger’s hood was covering his face, and no matter how she tried she just couldn’t make out who it was. “Erm…yes please. You see I’m supposed to judge the poems and-“ She stopped talking when the shadow handed her a pair of headphones, “Should be able to hear them now.” She put on the headphones, and indeed she could hear Revery’s announcement of the second round. “Ooh, thank…you?” But when she turned around to thank him the shadow had disappeared. Sweetcherrie shrugged and took out her pen and paper and took notes while she listened. Sweetcherrie pressed ‘stop’, and sighed with a bit of relief, and a bit of despair. She was glad that she finally got to listen to the poems, but how was she supposed to choose the best one out of these? They were all good. She sighed again, “well a winner has to be chosen, and a winner there will be. I just hope that I’m in time with giving Revery my scores.” With that she stood up in search of the organizer of this contest.

I have to admit that the first post was strange and I certainly had to backtrack some lines where I had still used third person perpective. However, I think this made it very interesting to really crawl into the mind of my character, and I've really enjoyed this one. Shame it is over already. Thank you to the players and to our excellent mod

Why, oh why are you not here when needed? I wanted to taste your sweetness Feel you inside me Fill me up Get me high Upon your flavour Deep brown feelings to swallow Heavenly chemistry between chocolate and me OOC: give me the brown stuff

The second memory sets the tone for some of the parts that will come in at a later stage and that specific memory more revolves around the passing away of the grandfather, then the marriage between Mandy's parents. I see I will have to try and clarify this post further since it is quite important for the story line later on. I was mainly assuming her parents just to be stressed because they had to take care of a dying old man. About Martin choosing Mandy, I've thought about your suggestion for a while, and have decided not to clarify this. Why does a rapist chose his victim? Mandy certainly wouldn't know, and therefor it would be an almost impossibility to properly describe this in the post. Plus that I also think it is a good thing that you're left wondering why he chose her. I think most rape victims are actually asking themselves the same question. Thank you for your comments. They always help me to see things from a different perspective, and help me think about why I write things the way I write them

After I had told them all about how much I regretted everything, I stared at the little girl, and tried to figure out what bothered me so much about her. Maybe it was her silence. I’m a very extrovert person, and people that didn’t speak had always given me the itch. She had an innocent face, but I’d heard that she wasn’t innocent at all. Apparently she had slaughtered her whole family, and that at her young age. Maybe I just didn’t trust people that kept it all inside, even if they were this young. I should really try to get her to talk, but how would I do this?

*zzzZZZzzz* “Oi, Frank! Frank! Wake up you! Look at what’s happening down there!” “ZZZgrbl...huh, what? What?” “You stonebrain, look! Follow my left claw.” The gargoyle called Frank stretched his mind (for he couldn’t stretch his body) and looked where his stoney friend had pointed out. It seemed there were an enormous amount of animals at the foot of the building, and he lazily wondered what they were doing there. “’s this all? You had to wake me up for this?” Frank’s face showed a bored grin, but then, it always did. “Yeah, but look at all that movement Frank, doesn’t that make you wish we were back in the books of Mr. Pratchett, where we could move around.” Frank decided to stretch his mind again, and suddenly felt his left claw move, “Erm…Willy? Did I just move?” “Don’t be ridiculous Frank, we’re stone gargoyles, we don’t move.” Willy still looked at the crowd (since he really couldn’t look anywhere else). “I’m sure I just mooooooooooooved-“ With a loud crack the gargoyle came lose from the building and started sliding down. “Frank, where do you think you’re going mate? You can’t just leave without me, Frank?!” Frank was rapidly sliding down the building, the air flew past his stone ears, and blew in his wide-open mouth. He tried to close his eyes before the impact (but couldn’t of course). With an enormous CRACK he landed on the street below, almost crashing on top of Canid. With one eye he could see that his right leg had come off, and was now lying several feet away from him. Bunnies were hopping all around him, “Just my luck,” He thought, “anybody’s got some supaglue?” He looked up at Canid with his other eye, “you can keep me, if you fix me, please?” OOC: erm…a smashing birthday Canid

Not sure if it's too late to vote, but I guess it isn't. Vote: Tabatha Johnson / Mynx, just because I didn't want all the votes to go to poor Patrick Will hopefully come up with an IC reason a bit later Edit: posted reason, not too good but it'll have to do.

Mynx was tending to Ayshela, who looked as if she had swallowed a lemon. Sweetcherrie wondered if this was also because she hadn’t heard a thing, or because she had difficulties deciding which poem was best. Come to think of it she wouldn’t mind a drink herself. Sweetcherrie got up and while she walked over to ask Mynx if she could also get a drink, she tried to figure out how she would solve the problem of not having heard the poems. Suddenly she saw a shadow moving, but when she tried to take a closer look it had disappeared. However, what she did see suddenly gave her a flare of hope. In the same corner of the room stood a machine that looked like one of those old recording machines. There were two enormous spools on it, which were slowly turning around. She glanced over the audience in search of Revery.

ditto, I've used totally different words than what I felt like using. moving it would probably make it more interesting for all the players.

Yay, last friday of school for the rest of this calendar year :woot:

So regret, hmm...what would I regret? I would never regret helping those poor old people out of their sufferings…and their savings. They asked me for it. Everyday when I nursed them, trying to get them back to health, they complained. Complained about being old, about being sick, about not getting any younger. No I certainly didn’t regret helping them. I thought back at Miss Maple, she had been such a sweet old lady. Her daughter used to bake cookies for me, and the old lady herself loved me. Her grandchildren would come sometimes, and then we would all sit around the bed of the old lady and eat the cookies their mom had made. I’m sure the old lady loved me even more when I gave her the medication. She went to sleep with a smile on her face. I felt myself smiling when I thought back of it; this was a way I would want to die if it would come to it. Did I maybe regret my husbands? The first one maybe... John had been a great lay, and he hadn’t had nearly enough savings to make it worthwhile. I had to end his life though; it would have been impossible to get a new husband without killing the first one. Stupid law, first of all they don’t allow proper euthanasia, second they should really let people marry more than one person at a time. Who could ever be satisfied with just one man? Everybody knew that men couldn’t keep up with women. I had needed at least three different men to get my pleasure in order. Plus that men were always more tired then women were, after three times they would just fall asleep, claiming that they were tired and empty. Tsk, I emptied them all right, and their bank accounts. I thought at what they had found in the freezer. This was not a worthy way for a man to die. What would his relatives think when they saw his body? Nah, the way I had killed my husbands at least gave their relatives a proper body to look at. I thought of what I would say when it was my turn to speak. If I were ever to get out of here, I would have to at least show regret. I would have to tell them how sorry I was and that I now understood that taking someone’s life was a bad thing to do, a very bad thing. My thoughts drifted to my various bank accounts around the world that the police did not know off, and it was hard to put my face back into regretmode. “So Brenda, what do you regret?” I gave it one more thought, took a deep breath, and started, “I regret that I’ve felt so mislead all these years, and that I killed those people, and….”

Sweetcherrie had been trying to listen carefully to each poem, but unfortunately had missed half of them. Wyvern had been snoring so loudly that almost every second word had sounded like “ZZZZZZZgrrbllb”. She had to admit that it had added an extra dimension to the poems, but she doubted that this was what the poets had meant their poems to sound like. She wasn’t sure what to do next. Would she ask the poets for their poem on paper? This would however defy the whole meaning of slamming a poem. She could hardly ask if the poems could be reread, or could she? Maybe if she were the only one that had missed large parts of the poems, she would be able to just judge them from paper. Sweetcherrie looked around and her hope for that dropped when she saw part of the audience looking confused, and another part was looking half-angrily at the almost dragon.

Hmm...a lot of the times I feel as if I miss out on something when reading your poems. They always seem to have so many layers, and one way or the other I always seem to not get through to the deepest layer. However, your poems do provoke me to pick up a dictionary and find out what exactly you might have meant by chosing certain words, and most of the times I get to surprising results and feelings. What I took from this poem is that you can stare in the past, the future and ones actions as much as you want, but everything is temporary. The image of the Dandelion you've used clearly impressed me with this idea of time and temporarity, and the whirlwinds that would blow away the seeds in the wind even heightened this feeling. Like I said, I've probably missed many layers, but I liked the layers that I could see

erm...just give me a few more of these tests and I will actually turn into being humble

*puts her head back on her body and edits Brenda to be a female with a last name* Thanks

erm...if my post is too Scarlet Pen just let me know and I will change it.

The van stopped, and stinky dog stepped out first. Cutey pulled me up, and I managed to rub my breasts against his crutch when he did so. With a grin I saw the bump in his trousers growing, I still had it in me. With a blush on his face he pushed me out of the van, and they took me into a light room with more prisoners in it. I sighed, more grey uniforms here. The state just didn’t know how to make life a bit brighter, no wonder that so many prisoners went suicidal after a while. I glanced around the group, and one woman caught my attention. She was laughing hysterically, and when she had finally stopped she switched to being rude to her guards. I could see that all she really wanted was a little love, but knew that she was going the wrong way about it. Maybe I could give her some tips about how to subtly catch a man in the future. My eye fell on a handsome man in the corner, and I wondered swiftly what prison policy would be about sex between the inmates. They probably were against it, so far it had seemed they were only here to make life boring for me, even the food tasted grey.