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| The Crossroads | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 7 2010, 11:19 PM (7,022 Views) | |
| ~The Boss~ | May 7 2010, 11:19 PM Post #1 |
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Native Son
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(OOC: Alrighty people. Important thing to remember, for those in Archaeological Contracts, this is three months prior. Other than that, everybody let your creativity run wild) The lake house on Mars technically belonged to Henry. He paid for it, and it was his name on the deed. But Jimmy spent more time there than anyone else. Lately, he'd been spending half the year out there - June to August then November to January. It was his toothbrush in the master bathroom, his underwear and socks in the top drawer. For all intents and purposes, it was Jimmy's house. The only time Henry ever came out to the lake house was when he needed a quite place to do some important business. They were way out in the woods, miles away from the nearest town and at least half a day from any of the mega-cities, and wouldn't be harassed by the authorities. And while it might have seemed strange that a meeting with a down-on-his-luck smuggler would be considered important business, it made a lot more sense if you knew more about the kid. And the crew he used to run with. Officially, the job was Jimmy's. He had some weapons he needed delivered to his good friend Cottonmouth, the rebel Pirate captain. However, Henry had taken quite an interest in this Ben, no surname given. Ben had a number of people who wanted him dead, and probably a few sick bastards who wanted him alive. Some of these people were Henry's friends, and some were even his enemies. For years he had been hearing stories about the girl with the silver disk on her left hand, and her seemingly incompetent crewmates who nonetheless had a reputation for getting the job done. Now, that crew was gone. The girl, Winters - dead. The woman called Enigma - dead. Ben's partner Nick - vanished without a trace. Winters' younger sister - a fugitive, turning up in odd places accompanied by strange electrical phenomena. Without them, Ben was broke and drifting, scraping by with any job that would keep food on the table. And yet, for whatever reason, Henry decided that he was still salvageable. He wanted to have a talk with Ben. And tell him what a bright future he had. ............................. Outside on the deck, Jimmy and Nick Scanlan had been having a drink and grilling burgers when they noticed the Grace make her descent. She was an old Junebug, the type of clunker that would actually run damn near forever, so long as you didn't mind it being a clunker forever. And they got the job done. Good for shipping cargo, even better for smuggling. "Where the hell's this guy gonna land that thing, in the water?" Jimmy said. |
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| ~beflexor~ | May 8 2010, 10:05 AM Post #2 |
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I just _____ in the _____.
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(OOC: Kinda wordy, but it helps to catch people up on what's going on with my characters I guess.) It was quiet aboard the cargo transport ship Grace save for the occasional groan of metal or rattle of something that wasn't secured properly. It had once brimmed with life however, as Ben remembered. The soft sound of music was almost constant, as Trisha cleaned, her movements graceful and liquid. She couldn't sing for beans, but she could dance like no one else. The delicious smell of honey bread as Enigma baked it fresh. Constructive sounds and soft murmurs as Nick tinkered with something. Even the circuits of the ship itself hummed with activity, being resident to a young GI that read manga on a regular basis. Dust and memories, that's all they were now. "I want a cat," came a small, deadpan voice suddenly. Ben leapt in his chair, spinning around. "Jeez Lori, make some damn noise!" he said, running his hands through his dark brown hair. Other than Ben, Lorrilal was the only one left behind. Enigma's death had been one of the many things that happened at what Ben had begun calling the Turn. That pivotal moment when everything they had worked so hard to do for years had came crashing down. The Turn had left Lorrilal an orphan, with no one else to take care of her but Ben. He'd thought numerous times about leaving her somewhere. There were plenty of other people far more suited to raising a little girl. One night, however, as he stood at the front door of his mother's house, Lori's hand in his, he remembered something he'd been told. The Shifters, a shadow group of people with questionable motives, recently disbanded as of the Turn, had told him he was a Protector. Apparently it was important enough to merit a capital letter in their eyes, like a title. Originally Ben had thought it was for Trisha, to protect her, but since she was gone, he found there were others that needed it. Lorrilal wasn't like normal girls however. She was quiet, and when she did speak, it was often cryptic, and always in an emotionless voice. Ben wasn't good at raising kids, he knew that without even trying, but Lori seemed older than her physical appearance suggested. Sometimes they would spend days in the ship without once coming into contact with the other. When they did, it was often for small exchanges, never conversational chatting. Though she always brought him coffee, like the cup she held in her hands now. "I want a cat," she repeated, her dark eyes serious. "We can't get a cat." "But I want one." "We can't afford to feed it." "It would eat the mice on the ship." "We don't have mice. Omega got rid of them all." "There will always be mice. A cat would keep the numbers down." "We're not getting a cat." "Then I want the Trishas blown out the airlock." Her last statement caused him to finally look at her. She was blinking rapidly, and there was the slightest downturn at the corners of her mouth. It was the Lorrilal equivalent to bursting out in tears and running out of the room. It didn't take a smart person to know she wasn't upset about his rejection to a cat, rather it was Trisha. Everyone, including the Galactic Federation itself, believed Trisha to be dead. GF troopers themselves had seen Trisha become nothing more than grey ashes in a small ship hangar after her abilities went haywire. The incident was written in paper and stored in a dusty archive where no doubt many files of failed experiments went. What no one knew was that Trisha had, in some way, 'glitched' her own state in reality itself. The result was that, instead of one dead Trisha, there no existed a number of them scattered throughout the galaxy, and not a single one was anything more than catatonic. Ben groaned, rubbing his face and scratching at a beard that had started to come in. He really should have shaved before the meeting. "What kind of cat?" Lorrilal smirked. Any other girl would squeal and throw her arms around him. "We can talk about it later," she said, noticing they were arriving at their destination. They didn't quite land in the water, nor was it entirely on dry land. Rather it was on the shore, their ship coming down on top of a sapling that bent awkwardly. "Stay here," Ben ordered. "No," Lorrilal replied immediately. He shrugged, "Fair enough." They'd been to worse places. A lake house owned by people with questionable morals couldn't be worse than some honkey tonk bar on a planet where even the police were found using drugs on the street. They both stepped out, eager for the prospect of money, which had become dismally scarce in their lives recently. |
| Someone made the mistake of letting me publish a book, check Dusted Here! | |
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| +CEMP+ | May 10 2010, 11:42 AM Post #3 |
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Clockwork Master
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Alana Kensinka milled about impatiently at the docking port of the space station, both annoyed and eager to get into her actual job. She had only just obtained the credentials as a doctor to be accepted on one of the roving GFed ship's medical staff, and she looked very forward to meeting the people she would work with; assuming they weren't total jerks and that the ship got here. It was about 20 minutes late, although she understood interstellar travel was a tricky business; this was a her first time off planet in any rate, and tagging along with the scientific expedition force was something she wanted. Even though she was a caring profession, Alana held a great interest in the subject of biological research, especially microbiology; yet her out look at purely studying this field was shattered when her father died of a disease, feeling helpless as he did despite all of the knowledge she had learned. Deeply impacted by this event, Alana still sharing her intrigue for her past subject, but also didn't want to be unable to do anything at all while people suffered from an outbreak, especially those dear to her. Hence the reason she had changed her career so quickly, and if all went well, everything would pay off. She had been considered for this ship for her expertise on microbiology, and was gladly looking forward, assuming the ship ever arrived. Making an exasperated sigh, Alana looked around to bide her time, noting the a few other odd characters here and there that were also waiting, either for a ship to pick them up or someone to join them on the station. Certainly some peculiar xenos, but that sight wasn't uncommon, and made her partially wonder who else was going on this GFed ship. |
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"I believe that the human spirit is indomitable. If you endeavor to achieve, it will happen given enough resolve. It may not be immediate, and often your greater dreams is something you will not achieve within your own lifetime. The effort you put forth to anything transcends yourself, for there is no futility even in death." — Monty Oum | |
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| ~DarkKnightCuron~ | May 10 2010, 03:01 PM Post #4 |
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Starfeather
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Nearest to the woman (of the aforementioned Xenomorphs) named Alana was a fairly tall individual, spanning over seven feet tall, and bearing an auburn-colored power armor, a dark green cannon adorning his right arm. By his body language alone, which he made no effort to conceal, he seemed irritated. And Z'gato was definitely irritated. The repairs on his ship were taking longer than he had expected, and with as much as he was paying the mechanics, they should have finished by now. Of course, he had already voiced his concern (albeit harshly) to the workers, but that didn't seem to speed the process along. So here the avian Chozo was standing, waiting impatiently for the repairs to finish and his client number to be called over the Public Announcement System. As if to pass the time, He mulled over the recent accomplishment he did achieve: Coming into possession of his Long Blade upgrade. It had taken almost an entire year to track down the clues for it, and even then, the remote outpost that was once a Chozo galactic listening post had all been destroyed by time and the elements. He was lucky to have found the armory repository, which had very little salvagable, but the upgrade was there, and added to his repertoire of abilities very nicely. His left fist, armored as it was, clenched into a tight fist as he looked at it, the energy blade emitter sitting on his wrist where lesser Chozo had opted for the beam grapple gun ability. No...This Chozo had opted for one of the best weapons--arguably--that the Chozo had produced: The High-Yield Energy Wrist-blade. Nothing quite exhilarated him like a close-quarters kill. His thoughts returned to the present, and his irritation arose again. "Hmph!" |
Marching to the Black Gates...
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| ~Bloody Pom~ | May 10 2010, 06:24 PM Post #5 |
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Science Team has vapor for brains.
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Fiera Haynesworth wasn't exactly a xenomorph, but... well, it was certainly easier to blend in with them than it was with the human populace. She was a freak of science, nothing more, nothing less. The result of a perfectly normal young, healthy human woman being infused with the genetic material of a long-extinct Terran feline species. While at first the changes had been minor, ears and a tail, causing her to resemble a neko-jin of popular Japanese culture, that hadn't lasted. Now, she was pretty much what could only be described as an anthropomorphic snow leopard. Last time she ever volunteered for a human trial, that was certain enough. Work was slow this month, so the feline had opted to do a little part-time work for the Federation as a technician. Mostly just to pay for rent and other expenses, any money she needed for personal use could be gained through somewhat less legitimate means. Huffing, Fiera let her eyes wander around the docking bay as muttered something about Federation shipping timetables. All around her were a motley assortment of aliens, though one in particular caught her eye. A tall xeno, clad in armor very reminiscent of that used by a certain bounty hunter that everyone in the Federation with half a brain knew about. Not realising that she was perhaps gaping a little at the large, armoured alien until she felt she was letting her eyes linger for slightly too long, she quickly turned away, clearing her throat nervously and hoping she hadn't drawn its attention. She felt a little exposed in her casual clothes; her own armour was in storage in one of the numerous cargo containers in the dock; it would be loaded onto the ship when it arrived, and was inaccessible until then. Where was that damned ship? |
"A battle for supremacy against many foes is a battle of the best kind. There are few considerations, only those concerning where to place your next shot. It is war in its purest form." - Commander Karziel, Ultramarines 5th Company![]() ![]()
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| ~Metamyth~ | May 10 2010, 10:58 PM Post #6 |
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BURMA
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A heavy footstep echoed across the loading dock. Closing in to the other waiting patrons was a cloaked figure, draped in a tattered old dress robe with matching gloves and cloth boots that looked like they did little to cushion the impact of feet on steel. He kept his hood low, guarding his face from prying eyes. Years have passed, and still I keep this ridiculous, mysterious guise... Aryon thought to himself. It seemed like nearly a lifetime ago since his escape from what seemed to be an unavoidable fate of experiments and tortures. He had long given up the superhero routine; for years after his imprisonment he fought, physically and otherwise, to end the evils of the world, but they always came back, they always came back. In the end, he was forced to submit to the fact that there was a shadow for every light, and that there would be a shadow behind him at all times. He would always bear the mark of the past, even though it was far from done with him. The scars on his false skin still ached, the SynthSkin material that coated his body always crushing down on him, it seemed. And the nightmares... God, the nightmares were worst of all. ~ Every night, he was back there, in that place. He would lay, helpless, on the cold metallic floor of the space station Origin. It seemed he could not move from the spot, though he struggled every night to do so. And all there was... was silence. Every once in a while, the nightmare would allow him to look around and see the rusty tools that lined his cell, but this was the only reprieve it would grant him. The silence, cold as winter in every nightmare, would remain until the light would come. An explosion would burst into the scene he was forced to watch, fleeing scientists and frantic guardsmen cut down by a celestial force. Their bodies would fall, lifeless, as the angel that took their lives would step through the ruined doorway. Sirens blare, flashing their red distress beacons across the hall, but he would hear none of this. His every sense would be focused on the angel, the being illuminated by fires she left in her wake, Aryon's eyes meeting hers as she would look over to his pitiful state. A disc on her left hand would begin to glow, and the bars that kept him prisoner for years would turn to dust. The invisible bonds that forced him down would dissipate. And, her work not yet complete, the angel would move on. ~ A few years after his escape, he would find out the name of his savior. Her name was Trishadarian Winters, and though he would yearn to sit with her and thank her, truly thank her for his release, the chance would never come. It would never come because she was dead, though he knew not how the angel of his release could be felled as she was. He shook his head beneath his hood, attempting to force his mind clear. It did no good to think of the past right now. That time is allotted for later, in the nightmares, he thought to himself. Aryon was now outside the group of impatient travelers, his momentary lapse into the past having carried him all the way to them. Slowly, he approached a kind looking xenomorph, unaware that she too was the product of an 'experiment.' "Excuse me," he said quietly to Fiera. "Have you heard any word on when the ship will arrive?" |
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"Nothing... a shadow is nothing. It is merely a question not yet answered. We only fear the dark if we have no means of lighting our way. Death comes to all, Morningstar. The world turns, the dawn comes... and under the light of the sun I shall slay giants." Dresden Codak, Dark Science | |
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| ~DJChilllyPhil~ | May 11 2010, 12:09 AM Post #7 |
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Too bad@$$ to have a FACE?! Maybe...
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How long has it been? I've forgotten the feeling of walking amongst the masses. Especially in a place like this... *A large ship had just finished docking at the station. Its appearance alone at the station had brought about a few people murmuring gossip and rumors centering about the strange ship in question. Mentions of massacre, theft, as well as a certain word that begun with a P...* "...Phazon, wasn't it?..." "...say it was filled with Phazon..." "...hoarding Phazon?" PHAZON *It was indeed the center of an...incident that had occurred some time ago, but that was in the past. Thanks to some merciful people, as well as more than a couple of important political connections, things had changed and now only a few GFed soliders were posted to meet with the sole living being that was on the ship. A few moments after the docking was complete, the being in question stepped out to meet with the soldiers.* "Heh heh... It's been a while..." *The avian figure was dressed in blue and white clothing that seemed to flow with what little breeze there was in the station. He looked a lot less intimidating than what the rumors painted him out to be. Then again, they always said that he dressed in black powered armor as opposed to the somewhat formal robes he wore now... He moved slowly to the lead officer, who greeted him with the immediate questioning of the apparatus that was on his back.* "Just a simple spear...and nothing more..." *Ironically, the spear itself both did and did not look all that simple, mostly due to both its contruction as well as a single brilliant golden feather that accompanied the decoration near the spearhead. Either way, the trooper dismissed it. It was then that the avian handed him some document, which the soldier then began to scan and submit the data he found on it to his superiors. What was on it was probably some bit of formal protocol that he still had to follow, if only for just this last time. If things went well, he could forget about meeting with GFed troopers whenever he brought his ship to visit a major public hub.* "...Ok. Command has deemed that your submission of this final report will result in the removal your name from the watch list. You're free to go." *The avian nodded his thanks and watched as the soldiers marched away, off to patrol some other part of the station. Visible signs of the figure's relief were evident soon afterward as his shoulders drooped.* "Finally..." *He shook his head and took his first look around, the strange markings on his face seemingly glowing in the light emitted by the fixtures of the station. Hopefully this visit would be a bit fruitful when it came to getting some sort of supply for his ship as most of them were running low.* "...Well, might as well start looking around..." *Regardless of what reason brought him here, the Chozo known as Kalos, now somewhat infamous due to the rumors that had surrounded him, now treaded through the space station.* |
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"Listen well! I'll stand on top of all living things! I am now a new creature that cuts open the future!" "Weakling, Weakling!" "It's useless useless USELESS!" "WRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!" | |
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| ~DarkKnightCuron~ | May 11 2010, 02:04 AM Post #8 |
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Starfeather
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Just as the feline woman looked away from armored Chozo, Z'Gato thought he saw someone at the corner of his vision and looked at her, only to note she was specifically NOT looking at her, almost purposefully. He narrowed his eyes at her for a moment before going back to being irritated, once again making an audible 'HRMPH" again, though he couldn't help but overhear the man's question directed at the feline, though Z'Gato didn't look in that direction again. No. His vision was enraptured by a different individual. It was definitely a rarity that Z'Gato was able to see preserved Chozo ruins in their entirety, but it was rarer still to see another one of his kind, as twisted and tainted as he was, in the flesh. While his helmet hid it, his eyes narrowed as he watched the procession between the Chozo and the soldiers. Yes, that's right...he had heard some rumors about somekind of Phazon incident, but he didn't pay them any heed. That is, until today. He couldn't help but let a low growl escape his lips as he kept his eyes on the unarmored avian, wondering both what brought him here and why he was still alive. 'And here I thought I was the last...' Z'Gato thought to himself. |
Marching to the Black Gates...
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| ~DJChilllyPhil~ | May 11 2010, 03:31 PM Post #9 |
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Too bad@$$ to have a FACE?! Maybe...
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*Kalos continued to wander slowly through the station, trying to shrug off the feeling of more than a couple of eyes on him.* "...Hurmph..." *Then again, he should have expected something like this, especially after what had happened. He continued to move slowly as he looked around for a store or some place where he could pick up a few supplies for his ship.* "...What?" *It a moment later when he froze in his tracks as he had seen a particular figure within the groups of people. Said figure was wearing what looked to be Chozo Power Armor of all things. Looks like this trip was going to be a bit more interesting than he first thought.* "Well, well... What do we have here?..." *Kalos couldn't help but let a smile creep onto his face...* |
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"Listen well! I'll stand on top of all living things! I am now a new creature that cuts open the future!" "Weakling, Weakling!" "It's useless useless USELESS!" "WRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!" | |
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| ~beflexor~ | May 12 2010, 11:49 AM Post #10 |
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I just _____ in the _____.
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While most xenos in the area were noticed because of their physical oddity, these were because of their unusual clothing and attitude. There were five in all, dressed in brown, natural leathers and simple cloth, a capped tube strapped to their backs rattled when they moved, sounding strange. Each were looked limber, with tight muscles hidden beneath skin that looked tanned, a rarity for most off-planet travelers. With the exception of the metal box each of them carried, few had any technological equipment on them but one in particular. And all had hair so dark green it was nearly black. They all seemed to have a restless, uncomfortable feeling to them that was overlaying their excitement. The one with the technology, clearly the leader of this excursion, elbowed another one, noticing that their ride was late, he snickered. Few would think to tie them with the recent string of bio-attacks on large ships. The attacks were always non-lethal, usually the air ducts becoming plagued with a fast-growing mold that made the entire ship smell earthy. Though lately they had become braver, harsher, finding ways to make metal rust and people aboard the ship sick, forcing important people to leave the ship, halting progress. Where once they were a simple nuisance, they had become a full-blown danger, the Federation finally finding them enough of a threat to try and take them down. Little did they know, their reason was standing just a few feet away from Alana, the single one that seemed to accept having the hum of machines and artificial lights around him. Nick watched as one of the others stretched, rubbing his neck and seeming to try and grab Alana's attention, he elbowed him again. "What are you doing?" he hissed. "She's not one of us." "Are you sure? You can never know. Let me try again." Nick grabbed his comrade by the wrist, talking even lower than before. "Enough, she's only exasperated by having to wait, nothing else. Now, we split up here. You take ships 38-R, 36-D, 67-J, and 54-Y. Remember, don't hurt anyone unless you absolutely have to. I'll be taking this one." "Sabotage time. Be careful Trisha doesn't interrupt on this run," he said, reaching over and tapping a small glass cylinder that hung from Nick's neck. Nick grasped his talisman and snarled loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. The last time he had nearly lost the small trinket that held Trisha's ashes, the only thing left behind by her. It had taken considerable lengths to reenter the ship and get it back, especially once he had been discovered. He'd compromised the entire team, and nearly their mission. He would always come back for Trisha though, always. He would leave his home and his people for her. Even if she was nothing more than ashes now. ~ The computers whispered. Query: Why do the most unusual of people come together without circumstance? Hypothesis: A relation to the Soulspark, that immeasurable something that gives sentience. The Soulspark, which can be both given and taken away so easily. Query: Is the Soulspark actually the soul? Thought: No. The Soulspark is merely a fragment of something that no one has seen fit to study. Nor would anyone even be capable to do so. Its existence is not even considered among any circle, even the GI. Assumption: Then the soul does not have sentience. Retort: Yes it does, yes it does, yes it does you piece of shit! Why, why must I be this way? Why did I have to find it? That time by myself. Idle hands. Idle minds. Discovering is not always a good thing. I buried it. I dropped it down, down, down. Deep into the darkness where perhaps I would forget about it. It frightened me. That little shimmer that spun as it went down, catching the light that did not truly exist. Later. Later I would remember it was there. Later when I was worried, more terrified of losing my friend than losing myself. Ironic that I would lose everything anyway, lose everything but the single thing I had tried to keep away from myself in the first place. Response: You were scared. Answer: Of course I was scared. I was lonely. I was a little girl. I was frustrated. I didn't think. I had to be close. I jumped. I changed. Query: Pinocchio? Answer: Not even close. Memory: Idle hands. Idle minds. "Idle hands," Squirt murmured. "Idle minds. Not even close. A fragment of something. Together without circumstance. Soulsparks." The computers whispered, but she was talking to herself. |
| Someone made the mistake of letting me publish a book, check Dusted Here! | |
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2:55 PM Jul 11