Degorram

Only positive critique on this one guys. It's a rough thing, I know. I purposely didn't make it rhyme, and it's just pieces of a story I have. I wish I could supply the picture that goes with it.... Looking at a picture, I see a beaming smile. Surrounded by your friends. And yet I know they are gone. And I am sad for you. I have not been told, What was the reason they left, Only the bare shade of truth. But I know it was not good. And I am sad for you. I see all their smiles in the picture, And all I can remember is bitterness: the sorrowful present. Once were they so happy? For I am sad for you. Can the sorrow of loss, be counteracted by the joy of gain? Not completely, I think. Then as a friend, all I can do is give. And, at times, be sad for you.

It's roaring all around me in a never-ending buzz. I'm wishing for the silence that I now know never was. But I'm wanting to get out of here and it is all because, The silence is now killing me far better than death does. A present winking in my ears that's driving me insane. A whining and a rolling that is soon to be my bane. Oh someone hit me on the head with a hard and sturdy cane! For the silence that is screaming is really quite a pain. My skin is all a-crawling and my eyes begin to twitch. The shrieking is increasing to a nonexistant pitch. If there weren't noise I'd pull this off without a single hitch, but the noisy silence killing me is causing me to itch. I can barely see the lights above me blinking on and off. I want to break the silence with a scream, a sneeze, a cough. But the quiet is quite holy and therefore I've got it rough. And I'll stay here in the silence till my brain has had enough.

I'd be happy to take pictures for you V! I just have to ask Kikuyu's permission and then figure out what people did with my memory card reader cables.....

Awesome idea V! I'm here to volunteer Kikuyu on the map drawing. Did you know that she has a HUGE map that she drew herself hanging on her wall? Dimensions probably being 2X3 feet. It's of the entire world which her quintet resides in. So feel free to bug her for artistic suggestions. I give you permission. And of course, if you need any basic sketches or someone to clean up your notes into a more manageable system, I love doing both. Organizing is sort of a hobby. I personally can't think of any specific areas that I'd like to see in the map. Kikuyu and I live pretty much in the main towers, near the top....so we don't get out much. *shrug* All in all I think this is too cool. Heres to hoping the map is completed! With that I offer my services for anything you might need.

Of course, the death is figurative. However dark this poem is supposed to be funny....

Waking in a gloom Pulling out my hair Heralding the doom Of mondays everywhere Walking through the halls In everpresent ire Laugh as someone falls Setting things on fire Scream at stupid heads As they laugh and poke Soon they will be dead No more stupid jokes Gnawing on the chair Scratching at the wall All my classmates stare On the floor I crawl Riding the bus home Glare at passing cars Rip up this new poem Of Monday pain and scars

The trio traded stories and laughs as they continued down the street, Fallen's short stature framed by the stare-bringing tallness of her handsome companions. She waved to people she recognised, her smile fixed to her face. She knew her cheeks would soon begin to feel the strain of such happiness, but her heart surely couldn't express her joy quite like her face. So she bared her teeth proudly, beaming. They approached the simple, bench surrounded stage. It was a simple building with a planked outstretch for the performers to stand on. The entrance to the building was covered by a split cloth of two colors, teal and black: the official garb of the minstrels with which she spoke. A tree grew through an opening in the middle of the stage, providing some shade. "Oy!" Tom shouted. Immidiately two faces poked themselves from back stage, expressions curious. "WHAAAAT?" one of them shouted roguishly, his scottish drawl hanging on the air. "Lookee what we have," Tom said, squeezing Fallen's shoulders. Fallen smiled and waved at the other two performers. "Hello lads." The two walked out to meet her, smiling. They wore the same teal kilts that String and Tom wore. The roguish one pressed forward, grabbing Fallen's hand. Beneath the short brown hair that covered his mouth he bared a sly grin. "M'lady! Tis been eh long time!" "It's good to see you so well Angus," Fallen said just as slyly. Though she was not as well acquainted with the rogue of the group, she knew his game well enough to play it. "Been keeping yourself busy, I expect?" The man grinned again and winked. "Oh aye." The other man gently pushed Angus out of the way, a princely air of dignity never leaving his dark face. He too wore a short beard about his mouth, which twisted into a charming smile. "It has been a long time," Aaron said, his deep, velvety voice making Fallen's skin tingle. "Where have you been?" Fallen shrugged. "Here and there. I'd tell you all, but I expect you lads have places to be, songs to sing, hearts to capture." Angus pulled a small watch on a chain from the sporran hanging from his belt. "Ah, we do!" he cried. He hurried back behind the curtain. String pulled Fallen into a tight hug, resting his chin on top of her head. "We'll see you again soon. Meet us at the tea room at noon?" Fallen squeezed him and looked up into his eyes when he let her go. "Certainly! I have some catching up to do anyway; I'll stalk you lads later on." "Looking forward to it!" Angus' voice came from behind the curtain. Fallen grinned at his playfulness and walked away, blowing a kiss at her friends as she went.

I hope you'll put up with my randimosity. I need to get something out or the emotions building up will surely tear me apart. ~ Fallen looked down at her feet as she stepped over the familiar gravel. The painfully angular stones pressed into the soles of her leather boots, making the muscles in her feet tense for fear of becoming unbalanced. Her black skirts swished about her ankles. She breathed deep the cool morning air, feeling her ribs strain against her black bodace. The soft blue cloth of her shirt brushed tenderly over her arms, which she raised above her head as she felt the joy of the sunshine fill her to the fullest. A score of jingling beads, pins, jewelry, and other odd bangles added an aura of perpetual noise about her as she practically danced down the street towards her beloved Newcastle. It had been far too long since she had been home. Pushing past one of the wall's small gates, Fallen stepped out into the open air. Before her were the rolling hills of the expansive town, varying between lush grass, clinging red dirt, and the mixtured woodiness under the trees. The wide roads were framed on all sides by beamed shops and gardens, and here and there an impressive stone work could be seen towering above the quaint little buildings, its multicolored flags whipping in the brisk morning breeze. The trees rustled at her as she capered down the roads, reveling in the false silence that shouted with noise: the wind, the birds, the stock animals up the hill, the shop keepers preparing for a new day, and of course her own jingling. The joy at the familiar smell of it all made Fallen shiver as she turned all about, taking in sights new and old. Though there were new faces in her town, Fallen fondly noticed that not a thing had changed. Realizing this, she leapt down another branch in the road, heading for the center of the town: the pub. It was no Dragons Head nor Prancing Pony, but was only known as the Pub. It needed no name, for it certainly was not a place that stood on such ceremony. But despite this, no other building had ever known such stories, such fun, and ah....such music! Fallen practically laughed aloud at the thought that these features were not usually what a pub was known for, and though the contents of the little nook had often made her blush with discomfort, she had always been able to laugh it off and come back knowing that the embrace of her friends would welcome her. It was these friends that she so longingly looked for. Though she had been away for a long time, surely they would recognise her! She was Fallen after all....truly unforgetable, or so she had been told by others. Specific mention had been drawn upon her blue-grey-green eyes, which had been spoken of by many as stunning. Her smile also. There seemed to be something about her smile that seemed to captivate and enthrall. Fallen herself believed her grin to be goofy and overbearing, but apparently it inspired some joy in others, so she kept on smiling. Before crossing the road to enter the pub, she darted into a fur shop and located a mirror. Staring at her reflection she contemplated the changes that had taken. Her hair, a rich brown, fell a bit farther. It still held the same curly-wave that seemed to cascade like a waterfall down her back. Her skin was still ivory white with barely any freckles, and the mouth that sat in the middle of her face was full and small. Until she grinned of course. She flashed her teeth at the mirror, grimacing inwardly at the expansive expression. Tweaking her slightly dented nose, she turned away to leave the shop. Suddenly she was overwhelmed by it all and fell back, leaning against the cool pelt of an alpaca that hung against the wall. She rested one of her hands against her stomach, trembling all over. Would they even remember her? Would they be happy to see her? Had she been better off gone? The doubts, though completely silly and unwaranted (and she knew this), darted through her mind in a whirl of fear. "If yeh'r lookin' for someun special, lass," a voice from behind the counter said, "ye'd best not beh worryin'. Yeh look beauty to meh." Fallen looked up and noticed the man, leaning against his counter and smiling softly at her. She knew him, but not well, and she smiled at him just as softly. "I thank ye," she replied before heading out into the sunshine again. A few more paces and she would be back into the depths of her old haunt. The open-faced pub was framed by several sets of steep steps and a railing or two, and this was all that protected the many tables and benches from the whethers. A caucophany of music assailed her ears. As usual, the performers and minstrels of the town were preparing for another day of hailing. A drum and the distinct sound of a fiddle crested the crescendo and Fallen's grin stretched to its limits. So those two were still here. Just as she had hoped. She climbed the stairs, peeking around a beam at the din that was bursting from the pub. There were many minstrels, all playing a tune together. There was a pipe, a flute, a djimbe, a couple guitars, and of course the fiddle and the drum. Fallen had to place a hand over her mouth to contain her joy as she watched her lads play. The two were similarly dressed. Both wore high black boots, a tartan kilt of the color teal, and simple, white poets blouse. The one with the fiddle had teal patches on his thin shoulders, a head and tail above the others. The one with the drum had donned a short black vest that hung open, its little drawstrings swaying back and forth. Though constantly moving with the beat of the music, the drummer's face seemed impassive through it all. His concentration slammed into the drum's top with closed fist and open palm, consuming his thoughts. Wavy golden locks fell to the back of his neck, framing his handsome face in sunlight. Occasionally he would look up at his fellow players, but not long after he would slip back into the reverie of the music. His friend the fiddler, however, seemed to be bursting with life. Perhaps that was why his frame had grown so abundantly tall and stretched: all up and no out. He practically danced around the pub floor as he jerked his bow across the violin's strings, his long, silky brown hair flying out behind him and clinging to his shoulders. Always he connected eyes with the other minstrels about him, always there was an open mouthed smile attached to his beautiful face. Watching them play made Fallen's heart flutter painfully. She dared not climb the rest of the steps, but leaned against the beam and watched them, filled with happiness. The song ended and the players laughed, bowing to each other. The fiddler walked over to his friend, clapping him on the shoulder, engaging him in some cheery talk that the drummer obligingly returned. They spoke a moment more before they gathered their instruments and turned towards the entrance. Fallen backed away from the door and tried to stifle her laughter as the lads walked past her, oblivious. They had only gone a few steps before the giggles burst from her mouth. The two stopped dead, lifting their heads to listen. "I know that laugh," the tall fiddler said, his high tenor voice ringing in Fallen's ears like a song in itself. The two turned and their eyes connected with Fallen. The drummer's disbelief dropped his jaw and the fiddler's face split into an enormous grin of joy. "You!" the drummer cried, dropping his drum and leaping forward to close the girl in his embrace. He had to bend down to hug her, but neither of them minded and Fallen's peals of laughter echoed through the street. "Tom! It's so good to see you!" She squeezed his shoulders extra hard before letting go, looking the man full in the face. "In looking back, I should never have left." "I'll say so!" the fiddler said, stepping forward to also hug her. Bending almost in half to reach her, he hugged her hard and stayed there many long moments. "Where have you been lass?" "Out and about, String. Out and about." At last let go, Fallen backed up a pace and looked up into their faces, almost crying with joy. "It's so good to see you both. I've missed you so much. It's hard to explain just how much. What has happened to NewCastle in my absence?" "Not much," Tom said. "Really." "Really?" Fallen asked. She took the time to look about her at the sunny little town. "I'm very glad," she whispered. "But don't ask us about boring old NewCastle," String said, picking up his instruments and throwing an arm around Fallen's shoulders. "Do tell us about your travels abroad!" "I love traveling," Tom said, taking Fallen's other side. Fallen laughed as they strode down the gravel road, towards the far end of the faire where the lads held their stage. They chattered animatedly. And the sun continued to shine. Fallen was back at NewCastle.

I liked it very much Peredhil. I know how the receiving end feels.

Wow Phoenix! Very cool. Your poem, as it suggests, just seemed woven together. I liked this piece very much.

Thanks for the tip Wyv! I'll fix that. Now that you point it out, it is pretty jarring. Luckily for me, I know the person in this poem a bit more than I would a popular music artist.

Here I sit and watch you sing, And to you my smiles I bring. You cast about me beauty Made of music and of spring. But though it's you I see, I fear you do not see me. I am hidden by my age, And am pushed back by your stage. Still your beauty is my joy; As to why I cannot say. And yet you don't sing for me, For your true love I can't be. At a distance I must stand, Till you take me by the hand. Separated we must be, Though I sing a silent plea. Your friendship is all I ask And it seems it cannot last.

Degorram stirred the contents of the large mug before her, feeling the heat of the drink seep through the glass and into her frozen fingers. A shiver crept up her spine and she bent forward, inhaling the steam, praying that it would bring some comfort against the cold. A taste of relaxation soothed her bones, and then flitted away as if it had never been. She shivered again and sent a stony look at the darkness beyond the windows. Winter nights were long and deathly silent in the forest. The sounds of her friends were not heard under the stars anymore. No creature dared wander among the drizzles. Even if the precipitation refused to freeze, it was an easy killer, piercing its cold dampness through to the very lifesource and snatching it away. Turning her back against the dreary night, Degorram walked up the stairs into the upper levels of the little home. The bottom of her overcoat swept out behind her, brushing against the floor with a gentle swishing noise. Careful not to spill the drink in her hands, she approached the massive pile of quilts in the corner and poked it. A muffled grunt barely made its way through the avalance of blankets. "I have tea," Degorram said softly, again glancing at the windows. The oppressiveness of the rain made her feel watched, calculated, trapped. A chill again swept up her arms and back. She narrowed her eyes, which swiftly transitioned from icy blue to a blazing red. Kikuyu's head and arms appeared from within the blob of warmth and she gratefully took the mug of tea, sipping at it. A satisfied sigh crept through her. "You should get some blankets too," she said, looking at her sister's lack of layers. "It makes me cold just looking at you." She noticed her twin's face and frowned, following the strained gaze to the windows. Degorram walked over to the window, placing her gloved hands on the frame, peering out into the darkness. Her breath steamed heavily on the frozen pane of glass, fogging her view of the forest. "There's something out there," she murmurred. "I can feel it watching. That storm of yours.....I think it's coming." Kikuyu cocked her head to listen to the rain, closing her eyes. The center of her brow furrowed a tiny bit in concentration. "It's there," she agreed. "Closer than before." Degorram turned away and looked at herself in the mirror on the wall. The black cloth that formed a tight fit on her body didn't seem like enough to guard her from winter's bite. Even though she was wearing her overcoat, it too moulded to her body like a second skin. Against the cold, she seemed dangerously unprotected. "Please put something else on," Kikuyu said. Degorram turned to look at her, a miserable face among a mountain of blankets. The look on Kikuyu's face brought an unwelcome discouragement. "We're not ready for this battle, are we?" she asked. Kikuyu looked into the swirling contents of her drink, suddenly distant as she considered the question. No answer was needed for either of them, and it hung in the air like a bad odor. Degorram wrinkled her nose against it, baring her teeth as she faced the window again. "Let the day come," she whispered. "Let the sun rise." "Please," Kikuyu echoed, also looking at the window. The night darkened around them.

If you cannot place your full trust in that person, then why are you in a relationship? Honestly, if you aren't looking to marry the person, then what are you doing? People aren't toys and entertainment, and sadly, that's how everyone gets treated if they're not careful. I've seen first hand what happens when you do not fully trust your partner, and guys, it really hurts the other person. And eventually the relationship ends because of it. Now, in my limited experience with love and all that jazz, I can't say that this is always the case. But it never does any good to keep your trust from someone until they've "earned it". Innocent until proven guilty guys. And if they've already proven themselves guilty, then you're in the wrong boat.

Thank you all. The poem actually deserves some background, for, thankfully, I am not suffering any love-drama. I do have a pair of very good friends that I respect and love dearly, but will not be seeing them till April, and have seen them once since July. The poem applies to both of them. But thank you Wyv. I'll definitely take up your offer when I need it.

Degorram slammed her gavel onto the wooden table that was serving as her desk. "Attention!" she cried over the noise of laughter and idle chatter. "Attention! The first meeting of the I <3 Wyvern Club is now in session!" The talking eventually died down and Degorram cleared her throat, pulling some paper from her folder to peer at them over a pair of thin spectacles. "Now, I know we all have different ideas of what we want to accomplish with the coming new year. I've got pleanty of ideas for projects and activities, but I need your help to make this club really thrive. "First things first, I'll make some general announcements. Club dues are 15 geld every month, and they go to help sponser our activities and purchase food. Also, remember your behavior should be generally good: remember, we're supporting our love for Wyvern, and as we do this you should be courtious, kind, and outrageously flirtatious." Again she cleared her throat as many giggles and snorts filled the air. "Now I'd like you to go around the circle and introduce yourselves so that I can write up a list of attenders. This will be our first activity. Say you name and why you have joined this club. Let the meeting begin!"

I kind of like the slowness, but then again I 1.) was not here for the hoppin' times and 2.) and a junior in highschool who has limited time to participate. So by all means, do not give my opinion as much thought as those who can and will be on more often than I. I'm sure I'd enjoy all the activites, but my only fear would be that I would post and never be able to join again because of the speed with which things would move.

I can't see past this crushing pain... It's slowly driving me insane. Why have you gone from me? I cannot breathe inside this box... You've got my heart in silver locks. Why have you gone from me? Your face is ever in my mind... And yet it's you I cannot find. Why have you gone from me? The feeling of your arms is here... But still you aren't really there. Why have you gone from me? The time is ticking slowly past... I do not think that I can last. Why have you gone from me? You've gone and with you goes my heart... You've had it from the very start. And still you will not come to me... Till your return I'll not be free. Why have you gone from me? Why have you gone from me?

A roar is the only way Degorram could describe her laughter. Yes....roar was a lovely word for it. Seeing Kikuyu, smeared, dripping, her scarves hanging crookedly from her shoulders, chase around a frantic and excuse-squeaking Wyvern screaming dire threats was too hilarious. However, Degorram was well versed in the bad things that could happen on account of Kikuyu's temper. She stepped in, grabbing Wyvern's shoulder and placing her other hand against her sister's arm. "May I cut in? I'd like to dance with lizard-hunk before you destroy him." She chuckled again at the destructive rage in her sister's eyes. "Come on Wyv, let's dance."

You know, even though she made me read this at 10:00 at night, I still enjoyed it. And no Kikuyu, I did not get nightmares.

A loud almost-dragonic whoop called Degorram's attention around once more. She had just been having a staring contest with one of the portraits on the wall, and as she turned the tiny knight in the picture squeaked "I win! I win!" The shape shifter walked over to the tangled pile that was Kikuyu and Wyvern, both now sopping with marsh water. Wyvern was incidentally sitting on Kikuyu's stomach, and Degorram wondered if he had actually fought to land on top of the accident or had gotten there by chance. "You're always in the most interesting places Wyv."

$ € ¥ etc... We use to earn and use them during seasonal carnivals, an event that we haven't held for some time, but hopefully can resurrect. Ah! Well, that would be why I have none.

Degorram pulled her door open with the speed of anger. An outsider might have seen a demon staring with bloodshot eyes from within the room, but Kikuyu only saw her sister, hair rumpled from sleep, eyes dead to the world in irritation at being woken at such an ungodly hour. "What?" Degorram grumbled, scratching her cheek. "I wonder what a drunk shape shifter looks like," Kikuyu replied. One of Degorram's eyebrows moved slowly upward, arching in exhausted amusement. "Why ever have you entertained such a thought??" "Wyvern is holding a booze party," Kikuyu said. "In the name of racing." "An alcohol induced race. Tell me it's not cars we're racing." "Yep." "I see." Degorram rubbed her face wearily. "Why does it have to be so early??" "It's nine o' clock," Kikuyu said, rolling her eyes. "Exactly," Degorram replied, once again turning her agitated stare upon her sister. "Fine, I'm coming."

I've never understood what a Geld was...what is it?

Why thank you Salinye. : ) I've been suffering through one of the worst colds I've ever had this past week, so I felt like expressing my pain.