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Date Posted: 17:43:55 05/07/02 Tue
Author: Pandora Fallon
Subject: It is my sacrament and duty to myself
In reply to:
Carmela Atroci
's message, "Why would You want To?" on 17:50:04 05/06/02 Mon
A compliment? Emphatically far from such! Was this dimly witted, if at all witted, harlott dense enough to egocentrically presume that the sarcastically and caustically snarked quipps were meant as an adulating glorification of some sort, instead of their true intent as derogatory, disdainful spurnings? It never ceased to astonishingly extract the breath out of the scournful, savvy intellect's lithely rising and falling lungs that one could be so narcissistically self absorbed, autocratically conceited and ostentatiously vaingloroius as the mentally thick, prime example before her. Perhaps the smallish but pugnaciously independent and fiercely spirited fire youth's opponent [Carmela] did have a meager grain of intelligence in her brain, but she had yet to exhibit it. She was genuinely amazard at the girl's impractically lofty opinion of herself, a wry smile demonstrating such; blatant beguilement distinctly discernable as it tugged at the corners of her mauve, full lips, in a callous and wanton fashion. What had regaled her intrinsically about the airheaded ninny was the fact that she seemed to think she was some provocative sex goddess while in reality, contrasting to her frozen image of herself, no one was foaming at the mouth, looking rabid with pulsing, cartoon hearts, in a would-be undiluted sign of lusty desire towards her. And yet, outrageously, her idea of herself was insolently above even the most renowned clique, so to speak, of Celeste, Natalia, and their other naive acquaintances... while in reality, she showed little prospect more than to end up as a wash-up for a few adult films. From what the nonpareilly blueblooded, gracile one, Pandora, who strangely ironically seemed to be dead but awake, had heard, the bromdide blonde was a bit of a liberally smutty, risque broad at frequent times, and the refinedly raised, self venerated will-be despot chose not to mingle with that specified sort of obtuse, depraved and less sophisticated sort. However, she didn't see all she saw, or hear all she heard, so to speak. However... reputations were golden, and once tarnished, they were ornerous to restore celebacy in.
With the cavalier polish of a veritable aristocrat, the feeble and slight frame ascended with balletic poise in an adroit and practiced manner. Her slender, dainty digits facilely grasped her sketchpad and charcoal art pencils and as if she had all the lazy leisure in the cosmos. Then, not abruptly, but gradually, she approached the egression area, footfalls harmonious and gait upright with exquisite, statuesque yet softly fluid dexterity; her strides possessing the paragon flow comparable to liquid. She was grace, personified and embodied, and she seemed untouchable; far too delicate, as if she were a porcelain doll... it seemed that the most meager of touches produced might break her, sunder her bones into a painful schism, but as the cliche goes, a semblance has potence of. A la beau monde, when she reached the exodous area of the plutonian incinerator that seemed to be the place of social congregations, (no place for her, of course, as she was antisocial... how had she even traversed there in the first place? It baffled her now.) her ethereally recherche, expressionless contenance angled backward over her frailly constructed, feminine shoulder and an unpredictable smirk, a galvanizing one that would give a third degree burn if it were tangible, made a ghost of a capricious apparition upon her royally chiseled, elevatedly sculpted visage. The lazuline, piercingly percolating leer of malice betided her most unfortunate victim, and the ambrosial voice was extant once more as silkily suave and frigidly algid... if it were tangible... it couldn't be melted by the scintillating, wretched grin she was donning. "I'll leave you to your clientele." This insinuating drastically, of course, if not merely pointed the obvious finger, that the golden tressed female was quite the strumpet. What fun was someone who didn't give a verbally sagacious retort of gumption, as if they were another drone that had conformed to ominous society's trite whims? Especially one who couldn't dechiper the intensely gargantuan difference between cajolement and flattery and undiluted condemnations? She wasn't loitering around for idle lip service. Oh... why so cold, Pandora, why so cold? After her viperous comment full of dripping venom, the facade of hateful enthrallment fell and she had retroverted back to her unconcerned, insouciantly inimical and eternally imperturbable state, wandering bleakly through life without hope of utmost contentment... but ambitions. Oh yes, she had ambitions, and as transcient time progressed... everyone would not surprisingly imbibe just where her true loyalties resided. By this epoch, she had long abandoned the petty altercation she had instigated, as she had subjects of more imperial magnitude to address. Machinations were close at hand to her, and she was the master behind them all. Perhaps she would drink her own poison, eventually... but even the brief tyrannical power she anticipated would befall her would satiate her appetite. Jaundice surged through her, and yet, she would contribute to it later. Perhaps this is the way the world had distorted her mind the most.
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and it is mine to be eternally the role that i play. -- Julian Emberson, 20:41:56 05/08/02 Wed
Over his shoulder, verdant orbs gleamed in detest at the entering student. He pivoted, cold grace embodying him as his arms folded like icicles in front of his navy Theory tank, glare like a charged flamethrower to the direction of the ultimate histrionic bitch. Her vanity surpassed his own, so much love for such a body tainted with perfect atrocity. Which, of course, helped with his handy nickname for her. Many of the guys have called him fag over the fact that he couldn't find the hormones to drool over her. But then again, most of the guys were jerkoff morons who only talked to him because they didn't want to become his victims of his verbal torture. Carmela Atroci should feel privilege in being his prey today. Personal experience with true nature (hers was riddled with egotism) made him adore fucking with her type.
A callous sneer became apparent and seething on his face. He tossed his hair back, a usual habit, ignoring their fall as his words slipped from his tongue. "Ooh, now she's too grandiose for words. Did staring in the mirror in amour propre overwhelm your already lack of intelligence into silence? Did your dirty talk during your reflection-fucking run your heavenly voice down? I'm in wonder for what's next, Miss Priggy." He smiled malignantly, even giving a friendly (yet no so) little wave.
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To be Surrounded.. -- Carmela Atroci, 21:52:55 05/08/02 Wed
Luminaries rest momentarily, listlessly, over the male attempting to dent her self esteem or whatever anyone regarding it as. Mentality swims with thoughts.. "Oh, let them think you're dumb, Carmela.. It seems to bestow upon them a certain jovial pleasure. Besides, dear, what do they know? They are not within your mind, knowing your true intelligence or weaknesses."
Her eyes are given a good roll at her mind's tellings, blood-shaded lips pulled back in a snarl above enamels, not bothering to look at Julian for the moment being. Finally, a crescendo of a sigh is exhaled and she replies calmly, "Lack of intelligance? I don't recall being a lack-wit, like you, Mr. Emberson, so I would hold my tongue if I were thee. And as you can see, my 'heavenly' voice is perfectly fine for I wasn't 'mirror-fucking' or whatever you are proposing that I do in my spare time. Go fuck yourself, Mr. Emberson because you are wasting your time mumbling to yourself or whatever you're doing now." Visage is turned away from him, expecting maybe a snarl or so back, but who knows with people like him.
Ranges of students suggested in their heads what she did or did not do. That was for them to do in their own time, for hearing about it was quite dull after so many times hearing the same tone and the same story. Nothing ever differed here..
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To be astounded. -- Julian Emberson, 22:56:04 05/08/02 Wed
He laughed outwardly, unafraid of whatever intimidation she thought she held over him. "Why, with wit like that I sure do look dim!" He excitedly ran to her side, bowing ever so gallantly. With jesterly movements he moved to her opposite side. His smirked and swooned before her, action mocking. "O proper stuff! This is the very painting of your fear," Julian recited, pointedly symbolizing himself in the words. "O, these flaws and starts (imposters to true fear!) would well become a woman's story at a winter's fire, authorized by her grandam. Shame itself!" He wagged his finger in front of her face, 'tsk'-ing and reprimandingly looking at her. "Why do you make such faces? When all's done, you look but on a stool." Her response was awaited, obviously said to mock but would appreciatively understand if she could not comprehend. "Thou art at a lack of advantage when it is I that you speak with, madam. Your... wit... astounds me. I certainly would have dismissed those previous words as simple-minded, but with you, Carmela Atrocious, it's just brilliant!" He walked away amused. "If you hadn't noticed, you don't own what you think you do. Letting me get a taste of that 'wit' of yours was the first step to your demise. You're not as smart as you tried to make me think you are just now."
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some say that silence can be golden.. -- sean terris, 14:41:02 05/09/02 Thu
lips grow stiff in a sullen sign in the direction of the individuals before him, scrutinizing their oral beating toward the undeserving Carmela Atroci, as he had performed witness the entire time when they enticed her into the confrontation at present. why was it that his age group perpetually preferred to select another from the horde and provoke him/her? slightly dumbfounded that Hero and Julian would uncover sport in this incident he shakes his skull in revulsion, for once concluding to discontinue what civilization considers incorrect and defend the defenseless. he travels onward with the elegance of a well-practiced entertainer, his frontage discloses no emotion, but his eyes deceive an agitation that gradually inflates to ferocity. “leave her alone, you guys. she hasn’t done anything to you today.” his pitch is calm and impassive, most likely the one object that was definite to imprison their concentration…the murmur is so much dissimilar to him.
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Re: ...But I Say Silver Is Just As Good... -- Celeste Riceburg, 16:59:45 05/09/02 Thu
>
>color=hotpink>Julian: Just for the record this is pre-library, so now she is just kind of contemplating.
...How exciting some days could be. How awful and uneventful others could turn out to be. It was still in between, Celeste felt just as silly as she did upset, was it really worth it? And in the middle of thinking whom should she run into but Julian, and who should see from Carmela (who seemed to think herself important), as well as the other bystanders. Sighing she resisded in the group just in time to see Julian smart-off, and Sean suggest they leave her alone. Celeste smiled meekly, "Somebody tell me I'm not the only one who heard adress ihm as mister...?" she said questioned. "Honestly, is his name that terrifying? Because personally I think it's nice. Other than that Sean's right leave her alone until she does something..." she said but looked at Carmela and shook her head. She was just...well she was as Julian had confirmed. "Never mind..." she sighed. "I suppose strutting in here was enough, for the likes of her anyway" Celeste said...
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just a tiny annotaton
-- haley, 18:18:04 05/09/02 Thu
ooc: pandora would be momentarily happy with the fiasco she started if she was still there. damn it, why did i make her leave? oh yeah, because she was going to go write her plans for power. oh well. sorry for the ooc interruption but i have become bored because my inner resources have diminished to the point of being not there.
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when the music stops, there is no fun. -- Julian Emberson, 18:33:51 05/09/02 Thu
"You might as well crucify me, Terris," He said coldly, hands clutching loosely at his dolce-painted hips. Fingers tapped as he watched the three of them, no awful response preparing to be released. As he regarded them as good people, he wouldn't say a word of harm. His face, though, dropped to an ungodly frown at his fun being ruined. "Hasn't everybody learned that by now, I just don't stop?" He sighed in detest, rolling his eyes and dropping his arms. He stalked to the door, a bitter smile gracing his lips, the upper pinning the bottom down. "But there. It's all done and bandaged. The next time either of you decide to be unbiased, please warn me. Because then, I can tell myself it's human nature before thinking nasty thoughts about either of you." And off Julian went, irony in the fleeting footsteps. Well, whatever. Fuck them. He shrugged aloofly and trodded over to his favorite place.
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Re: ...I Refuse To Let You Stop My Music... -- Celeste Riceburg, 19:02:37 05/09/02 Thu
...Celeste looked at Julian. Julian mad. "Did I miss something?" she asked Sean. "What could she have possibly done to make Julian lose his cool? What's going on with him? He's just been...weird. First he yells at me, and now he goes ona mad fit of rage when I was under the impression that you and I-" she began looking at Sean, clear she had ignored Carmela, "Were his friends"...
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-- , 20:43:52 05/09/02 Thu
he provides the inkling that the brutal words of julian do not trouble him and he shrugs indolently at Celeste. “we stood up to him, i suppose…that’s what happens when you stand up to the rest of humanity…you always get shot down. g’bye, Celeste.” he saunters away, as though surviving in a delusion, his face still washed spotless of feeling and his eyes now only announcing a self-irritation. ah, yes…that was smart of you, Sean. made a scene…wonderful job. bravo…you really should have just left her to her own devices…she can handle. emotionally shrugging off the sentiment he recoils to the security of his dorm…not chiefly feeling social.
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