| Subject: THIS ONE IS IN A LEGIBLE FONT...*grr*. |
Author:
Juniper Breeze
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Date Posted: 18:30:41 08/26/02 Mon
*EEP! I KNOW, I KNOW! Before you scan it and roar in earsplitting screeches.......JUST READ IT DAMNIT! PLEASE dont just skip over it and POST! I worked HARD on this, if it isnt obvious.....it DESERVES The respect of being read PRETTY PLEASE!!!! I talk about a couple people in here......so DONT just SCAN to the bottom! Or I will beat you to a sensless pulp with a cucumber!*
As the pheonix, we rise from the ashes.......
Our world, perhaps, is a mind alurring situation, known fully only to those of the brazen heart and flawless demeanor. Death and life....such fickle, meaningless words, but such a demuring depth buried beneath each. Anything can understand life, in its meer meaning. But it isnt seen as it is, an auiferous spiritual awakening, blasting trumpets of bold reverie and verberations of vividness. Life. It seems that way, doesnt it? How we take it for granted...do we ever pause to be thankful? Every day, does a bold harpsicord echo brilliantly across a verdant cheronese, praising the heavens, and the genus that amazingly graces its Realm? Do we? Or do we damn those in spite, in hatred more often, forgetting the importance until it is too late to realize.
You know the answer.
A sickning reality to be brought to, indeed. But Death. Ah, Death. It seems lain, doesnt it? Such a native word, and again embedded with meanings. The abrupt drawing short of something to be rejoiced. It can loom, over the ill, as a prowess, awaiting a moment to strike. But any and all can be sudden. The lucky few, perhaps as Juniper, can relive what was lost to them, giving an immortality few will ever concieve. But even the immortal shall dim; the luster diminishing from a translucent monument.
And Juniper's time has come.
Immortality has its boundries, no doubt as seen with the flawless perfection of the feminine. Senses lost....something grieved about its absence. Life cannot be; how can one grieve if one has no soul to mourn with? This is the difference from the dead and the spiritual worlds. Is it better to live without love, without touch, without an emotion that truely belongs to you, than to live at all?
Decide yourself.
Without the love she so deeply grieved, so deeply yearned for, what was a spirit? Indeed, the brazen mare could be called so.....had she no love, had she no spirit. The pellucid fatale raises a refined jowl, cursing the sky, hatred burning in a once pure soul. Damning all, damning the ones who came and went, leaving her on a lingering whim to unrealistically await their return. Damn them all. Its time for her to go.
She could not leave with a hatred burning inside the depths of the plyable physique. She did not truely hate any....she couldnt. Light was too pure in the regal genus of the faerie. Forgiven she shall remain; in hope. Hope that one day, Andy shall forgive. The the blunt brutality of her deepest emotions.....she prayed he shall forgive.
A Light, with suck darness, as the darkness which passed over the orbs of the ghost fatale. A plyable bodice sinks to the frigid plantation, an esse surging over a pair of glazed orbs like a sharp slap. She was scared, yes. But wouldnt any be? The first death was quick; though not painless. But it was an unexpectant supressing; there was no time for self pity in a time as such. But the second? Nay, she knew. It had been looming...slowly, ever so slowly, the fluid-like physique became ever more opaque; a rapid aging happening upon the once-youthful character. A truely disturbing happening, to be aware of your own death. It was something deep, with a weary body she knew it would come. Without love, without support, without friendship, without recognitience; it was an ultimate decision which she added to the embers which grew. Engulphing the remaining vividness of what was.
And as all good things come to an end, her life had truely ended long ago. When her loved ones were lost. Lost, indeed, if that was only it. Ignored. Ignored by the only one whom had a signifigance was the last remaining flicker which brought the mares downfall. Andy? A murderer? Such a spotlight now put on the situaiton. But two sides tell the tales and hardships of all. Had he not lead her, came so close and tempting to the refined maw of the mare, then raptly dissapearing as the wind blows, favoring himself. Dear, dear selfish Andy. We shall now see how it is to loose a loved one. If she was ever loved by thee.
But, in the echoing of the chizeled mare came a message, not telepathic, but a cryptic knowing. As the deepest feelings which you know. Ignore them all you can, but they will remain. And Andy's were uprooted, and told by the voice of Juniper.
*Andy.....do not bring an end to your life yet again. I know, as well as you do, that being reborn once into the world of the living is a gift; a privledge of immortality. But nothing is immortal. We all must die. Do me this one last gift, Andy....just one thing I have ever asked of you. Do not kill yourself again; remain in a bold reverie as those with the luster of life do. Grow old with Flower. Regain your old roots before I met thee. Rebirth once is a miracle in itself. You know, as I, that death with intentions again will be the downfall of whatever spirit may still be alight inside thee. Andy, my Boy, another. Leave my ashes be; the deja vu of my being meerely deserves the respect I never earned for my own. Farewell, Andy. I loved you. I will.*
A death with a Shakespearean attire beings the drought of a dramatic and longing death, drawn to the very last, hoarse reverie that could possibly emurge from prim labyrums. In a fleeting departure, the alumna turns to adress her truest, tride kinship. Stone. A scraping, deathly whisper barely escapes in a hollow whisper; it would be her last speech.
*Stone.....Stone. I was emurged into this lands with little more than a bare minimum of expectations. Through my life, struggles, deaths, and reborn. You have always been. And always will be. I wish you my best with Calamity; you deserve each other, and I pray it that the passion between you shall never diminish. Be my last wish to you my friend: take care of my youth; my being. My only wish to you, My dear Stone Lightning. Goodbye...*
A dramatic death for a passionate female. The plyable bodice that once was cringed, a hoarse choke in a last, desperate attempt to intake the air which upholds and supports the lives of us all. And see, now, do you? Life is not fickle given. It is a privelage, and shall be used with the utmost.
The curtain call.
A rigid body lay helplessy upon its still barrel, a figure hardly recognizable to even the clostest to the feeble being. A whisper shivers its way throug the snow covered branches, rustling up the spines of each; that would be a given. But suddenly, the form began to diminish. Did you expect a spirit? Something with no feeling, to meerely return itself to the soil? That, my friends, is no more possible than the containment of a column of light, or a quick, whisper of wind. It will remain; never captured, ever free. The physique of the mare diminished, dissaperating away as......ashes. As ashes, indeed. The grains drifted ino the heavens, dissinigrating against a cerulean zenith.
The predecessor.
Beneath the fibers that whipped across the crystalline sheet, lay an amazing thing. As the pheonix, we all rise from the ashes.......and lay before us all the hatching born anew. A nimble, steel coloured foal lay at the feet of the ashen plantation, the towering elders a thermatic barrier from the harsh conditions which loomed amungst the frigid terrain. The rounded refine lead to a midst of thoughts, uncanny disposition a stealth-like reformative of arabic heritage, brazen, azure orbs flicker cunningly, brave defiance; a cunning pride that could be her matriarchal calling, or her downfall. With a distraught coutnanace plastered on the youths fac, the pewter nares flutter slightly; the fist breath of a predecessing life.
Ashes to ashes, dusk to dusk.
And so, the death of Juniper shall come to pass.
And the youth shall rise from the ashes, ever youthful; ever immortal.
But from her death,comes life.
Meet Juniper Breeze's predecessor...
.M A S Q U E R A D E.
[ the untouched chasm ]
*EEPNESS! I cant BELIEVE I just MURDERED my VERY FIRST RP character EVER in my HISTORY! I have been playing her for 2 WHOLE YEARS HERE! *cries* Ah, but everyone ignored her.....she was past her prime. *snickers* Ah.....hope no one hear plays a dragon....Er.....look familiar? *Vaspyra cough cough* Don play her though....thats Quinney.....she will be TOOOO proud of me im sure.....WOW I got carried away and a LITTLE redundant.....but oh well. EVERYONE WELCOME......*drumroll* MASQUERADE!!!!! YAAAAAY! *grins* Ha ha, happy posting!
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