Scarlett O'Harpy

Finnius was my dinnius If ever there was a husband worth his salt twas Finnius - and worth his pepper too. Some may have labelled my actions assault, but what's a girl with appetites to do? I offered to return the ring (of course) and never claimed my dues from his estate. But shares went up in ketchup and brown sauce and how I loved the scrape of knife on plate... Lashings of lipstick and widowly wonderful wishes from the red one.

Scarlett's humours were never modest. Right now if she could lay her hands on whoever or whatever had sealed her smacker shut, she'd rip them limb-from-limb then roast them slowly on a maple spit before gnawing the charred flesh from their bones with relish. Scarlett tried to lick her lips, but only managed to tickle her teeth which were deliciously pointy and ready. She took out her compact and grimaced at the dishevelled image. Trying to smooth her hair and wrinkles, she started as footsteps drew close. 'You're not catching me out twice' she thought, scowling at the memory of how she'd been silenced. Scarlett drew herself back into the shadows, and when Mardrax passed her, she decided to follow from a safe distance.

And not just any old foot. A size 6 right foot within a crimson high-heeled shoe. The left shoe, although also crimson-ish, was scuffed and stumpy - lending Harpy a lumbering lop-sided gait that was in turns alarming and comical. Scarlett floundered into Kikuyu, windmilled her arms, waggled her nose and finally in defeat, dumped herself into an untidy pile on the floor. 'Mmm-mm-mmm' the red lips were straining, but nothing coherent was coming out. Harpy flexed her kisser, pouted vainly, but the mouth stayed absolutely shut. Scarlett's eyes (perhaps to compensate) were insanely wide open as if to communicate something of vital national importance. She punctuated each 'Mmmm' with a flourish of her detached six-inch spiked heel, which she clutched with the fervour of one who means to get even. Concluding that no amount of facial distortion was going to get her point across, Harpy jabbed her heel furiously down into the floor, scoring a deep line into the tile in the process. Her eyes locked onto the line and within seconds she had added further wild scratches to her message: -- Find Cerulean! edited for spelling

Diminuendo I'll sing you a song where the thrills of the world, combine with the chills as new ills are unfurled. Soft trills from their tongues belie reddening spills - resounding with top-notes of fingers in tills. _____________________________ Originally posted in the Banquet Room here

Scarlett sniffs greedily at the delicious scent of coffee nearby, but is distracted into peals of laughter by the spectacle of Wyvern approaching. She is tempted to bait him with some barb about her warm-heartedness, but decides not to tempt fate, this time. With a wink and a clink she goes back to frisking the sleeping dwarves.

Scarlett, ears ever tuned to the sound of abandoned geld, or morals, sidles up to Wyvern's bribe bin. A quick shufty in several directions assures her that everyone's preoccupied with the judging. Loki's bag of lovelies nestles snugly against her cleavage as she cackles her way back to the bar.

HA HA! 'The incorrigibly plural' comes out as: 'The incorrigibly plurale' *puts on her irony hat and waggles a cigar*

Finn - lol - gotta love those Emirati gazelles. Remind me sometime to tell you the tale of the onion riots here, loss of life, cutlery and sanity ensued. 1. A Pen member - Matt the toupé 2. Animal (plural) - Hares 3. Verb that signifies moving - Slithering 4. A Pen member - Cyril Darkcloud 5. Animal - Vole 6. Verb - Elongate 7. Place - The Taj Mahal 8. An event - The first wind tunnel test 9. Verb - Grind 10. Verb - Shatter 11. Noun - Eyelash 12. Verb - Blossom 13. Adjective - Unearthly 14. Noun - Earplug

Scarlett has been there since the crack of late morning, hoping to eye up the best vantage point for eyeing up the talent. She's examining the gathering with a gaze that slips through clothing like a fin through water. Raising her drink to toast herself and the evening's events, she chuckles inwardly, that is until she notices that her glass is suddenly, magically and unaccountably empty.

Organ donor Harpy shrieks and Harpy rages, (It's a skill she's had for ages.) Marches to a random suitor And thumps him smartly on the hooter. 'Enslave me would you?' spat with malice, I'll be Queen and you play Alice... Turning to her sword of red She cruelly screams 'Off with his head!' The sword, obedient ~ does as bidden, Harpy can't keep her grin hidden, Gazing at the pool of gore, She extracts organs ~ as of yore. And as she works, a chant is twined, To aid his poor befuddled mind, So he knows once and for all clear, The name of what this girl holds dear. 'The thing I love is mined and plundered!' (Victim trembled, Harpy thundered.) 'Without it friendships soon get old I’m after diamonds, silver, gold~ It's power sets my heart aflame; So please just stop your foolish game, And now you must relinquish claim, Cos friend... you'll never get this dame!' It seems that Harpy's work's complete, She feasts on liver - what a treat! If only she had upped the ante, To some fava beans - and a nice Chianti.

Olé Scarlett makes a thumbs up gesture. Did they think a bull could wrest her from her plans? They didn't know it ~ she was armed and primed to throw it... Through the air her cleaver whistled, The crowd froze and yon bull bristled, just as it advanced, horns gleaming ~ blade struck meat and bull stopped dreaming! Harpy hopped with manic fever, licked the bloodstains off her cleaver. Viewers turned away, disheartened, as the beast was sliced apart and gobbled up ~ a frenzied floor show ~ first the hooves and next the torso. Scarlett beamed, proud of her cull, announcing 'Now I'm full of bull'. * Cerulean studies Scarlett, she's half cannibal, half harlot. Peeping through her fingers, wincing, Cery sees the ground-beef-mincing. 'Well at least she's making progress, Usually she's like an ogress ~ last time something bit the dust and got devoured, it was her husband!'

Apuckerlips Now Something whizzes through the water, marks onlookers down for slaughter, champs its teeth and gnashes sharply, it's the shark known as O'Harpy. Circling fast upon the fishes, Scarlett extracts forks and dishes from her Pouch of Handy Items. (No girl would be seen without 'em.) Finding that the fish are tiny and the seawater too briney up she climbs onto the beaching with a grin that's so far-reaching ~ every adult male's teeth chatter anticipating their spleen's shatter. 'Well' says Scarlett looking round her. 'All I caught today were flounder, Where's the job to task my senses? Give my ardour recompenses?' (Close-up of her mad-cap plotting, tooth picks ready, mouthwash clotting.) 'Tell me when the earth needs saving, I'll deal with that while guys are shaving. Show me where the crisis is, I'll don my lipstick, do the bizz, but aliens, mermaids, quests and plunder, batons that are tossed asunder, represent no serious plight. Present me with a list tonight. For now I'll say it's great being back.' (Observers hear her jaw-bone crack.) She bares her teeth and then waves brightly, bound for Mr 'Ten Times Nightly'.

Ottava Rima for Scarlett O'Harpy Ms Scarlett isn’t ethical or chaste, no culture-vulture, brain-box, nor aesthete. Her sensibilities are interlaced with baser drives: to rut, to slay, to eat! Although romantic Cery’s often phased by Harpy’s actions, she withstands the heat. For method shapes this maddening virago - what could Othello be - without Iago?

A weak pulse and a buoyant portfolio. Oh darn, that's two things.

I'll sing you a song where the thrills of the world, combine with the chills as new ills are unfurled. Soft trills from their tongues belie reddening spills - resounding with top-notes of fingers in tills. Gratis, Harpy.

Something that can't buy you money.

Harpy's hot-tailed it to the bash with the ambition of a Sprite in a pre-arma power-up. Swaying and tottering under the weight of her make-up and concentrating fervently so's not to fall off her shoes, Scarlett has a quick shufty at the female opposition and spies a purring broad taking her limelight centre stage. Muscling in on the panting Ms Monroe, she elbows the bombshell into a well, makeshift bombshell, actually - slams shut the steel doors, lights the touchpaper and retires. Swiftly tiring of retirement, she hops up and back to the party. Lights are flickering, cheerleaders cheering, a gaggle of Wyvern's floosies are doing the CanCan in honour of the Birthday boy, just because they can, can, and all seems as it should be. Happy Birthday Zoolio, with much love and best wishes from the Red one and the Blue one.

I thought I'd better have a go at writing a poem for my own challenge lol - so here it is: Ottava Rima for Scarlett O'Harpy Ms Scarlett isn’t ethical or chaste, no culture-vulture, brain-box, nor aesthete. Her sensibilities are interlaced with baser drives: to rut, to slay, to eat! Although romantic Cery’s often phased by Harpy’s actions, she withstands the heat. For method shapes this maddening virago - what could Othello be - without Iago?

I'm not sure if this little quiz has surfaced at The Pen before, but I thought it might be fun to check out which type of poem your personality (or your character's personality) lends itself to. For those who'd like an extra challenge - your mission is to compose a poem in your designated form. :woot: Scarlett's poetic form was: *drumroll* Ottava rima? Me? That can't be right! Too frivolous? But tut, there's no such thing! Let others ponder thoughts of wrong and right, Or sit and think how much they love the spring; I'd rather spend my time in gleeful spite, Or maybe laugh, or maybe sit and sing. Besides, it might be fun to be inspiring - But surely it would get so very tiring. What Poetry Form Are You?

Scarlett grinned at Ethics' gesture. Did he think a bull could wrest her from her task? He didn't know it - she was armed and primed to throw it... Through the air her cleaver whistled, Ethics froze and the bull bristled, just as it advanced, horns gleaming - blade struck meat and bull stopped dreaming! Harpy hopped with manic fever, licked the bloodstains off her cleaver. Ethics turned away, disheartened, as the beast was sliced apart and gobbled up - a frenzied floor show - first the hooves and next the torso. Scarlett beamed, proud of her cull, announcing 'Now I'm full of bull'.

A confounding parasitic species Consumed by vanity's caprices! Thanks for the interesting read whynotsin - and the first half of the couplet Archaneus. I don't think my view of humanity is quite so bleak, although I haven't read the newspaper headlines yet today. Expect me back later, with a vigorous nod of agreement lol. Harpy.

Hi Tralla, I think you did a great job here of presenting your subject in an effective way. I'm fascinated by colours, hues, the nuances of half-shades... so this was going to have me hooked from the beginning. I think the first stanza is definitely the strongest. Maybe the last stanza would benefit from some metrical re-jigging, but overall I think it's a lovely pice of work. Thank you for posting, Harpy.

Hi Vlad, I just wanted to note my appreciation of this. I particularly liked the idea of thoughts being laced with a powerful emotion. I think that's a great word-choice; it works well on a number of levels. Thanks for posting, Harpy.

Thanks for posting this Justin - I enjoyed the read. It was also good to see how it evolved from your explanations in the WW. My favourite lines are: When I walked wisely, With shoes of silence, And a coat against the wind. I like that little section a great deal. I think it conveys much, with understatement and economy. Food for thought. Harpy.

It's another busy day at Scarlett's Burger Lounge. The thudding pulse of bass from the juke-box has the customers merrily tapping a claw as they wait patiently for the owner to flip a McHarpy Whopper their way. The gentle rhythm of Scarlett's compact opening and closing punctuates the yelps from her clients as they compete to seize the next charred lump of meat she hurls out of the pan. Scarlett eyes their balletic leaps to capture the McHarpies between two be-pickled bun halves with ill-concealed amusement - and counts the cash. Just as she's wheedling another sizzling mound out of the frying pan, Harpy's knocked flying by a thunderous explosion which catapults her upwards and backwards with alarming force. Picking herself up with an anger so palapable it could ignite ice-cubes, she stalks out of the kitchen, deftly reapplying lipstick with her left and yanking up a cleaver with her right. Two paces outside of what was formerly Scarlett's Burger Lounge, she spies a stranger dusting himself off and looking around cheerfully. Apoplectic with rage and hopping madly, Harpy gestures soundlessly to her crumbling business premises and her chipped nail polish. 'Ah hello there' calls the stranger, 'I'm Ethics.' Scarlett draws herself up to her full height and charges forward brandishing her weapon. 'I'm Scarlett' she yodels like a battle-cry, 'And Ethics never stopped me doing anything!' OOC - Welcome, welcome, welcome! Don't mind my silliness, it's almost time for Harpy's medication, in any case! It's a lot of fun around here, enjoy yourself! *waves and smiles*