Alaeha

Heh... Probably shouldn't be reviving this... but I hate to leave it unfinished. Wanted those who liked this poem to know that when I was sharing it with some friends who hadn't read it, I redid the controversial line. The final stanza reads:

Heh... If I may quote Ayshela, here... I give this in reference to Gwaihir's post... *Smug look* I'm a firm believer in what one might call "Poetic Justice." *Rehugs* *Recongratulates*

*Laughs* I love it... The first one goes well with your signature, as well.

*Hugs* Welcome back!

I think I meant the latter of those... though it may've been a bit of both. *Laughs* Our mistress of links here.... you beat me to it!

Reminds me of a poem I wrote once. Back in... february, I think it was. May've been March. Will have to dig that up when I've got a bit more time, and stick a link in here. This is an interesting topic to deal with.

*Hugs* Congratulations!

Alaeha darted into the Cabaret room on receiving notice that people had been discussing her Quill Quest, and quickly skimmed over the conversations. She laughed, and jotted down a relatively short reply. "No worries... I understand entirely too well how crippling a busy schedule can be. Just trying to keep on top of my daily work at school as well as writing the required essays for my English class and finding time to sleep and maintain some semblance of a social life are combining to leave me with almost no time for anything even resembling creative writing... that's why my quest was a full week late in starting. "And... for the sake of clarity, the songs don't have to be relevant to the character. They just have to strike enough of a chord with you that you can write something based on them... relevance to the character is just a nice bonus if you can pull it off. " Hoping that she had helped to clear up any confusion, she stuck the note in place and dashed from the room with such speed that only a blur of color and a gust of wind were left behind for a moment to show that she had been there seconds before... save for a wry comment: "Now... back to writing about Impressionism..."

Hmm... I guess this one comes down to how you define getting "away" with something... If it implies being free from guilt or penalties for the act committed that's entirely different from merely not getting caught and punished/stigmatized. If you mean the former... there are a few I think the world would be better off without... though the odds are that most of them will die of some nasty disease within the next ten to twenty years anyway... it's amazing how much damage they can do in even a month, let alone ten years. Or perhaps stealing massive amounts of money... that would, really, be better from a purely practical perspective... Otherwise... the worst I could let myself get away with would be stealing the full versions of some shareware file or some such.

Alaeha stood on the center stage, suddenly dizzied by the size of her audience. She shook her head slightly, almost unnoticeably, to clear it, and looked out to the audience. Finding Ayshela again, she smiled and, after making eye contact, winked at her friend. She addressed the crowd, speaking loudly. "Well... My story is finished, for now. My thanks for your patience and restraint. "I'm now pleased to introduce one of the many QuillBearers of the Pen Keep, (though she may not remain such for long...) and the Hostess of the Fall Ball. The Lady Ayshela Whisperwind has agreed to read a short story she wrote based on the song "Darkest Days" by Stabbing Westward." As Ayshela ascended the stage, Alaeha walked slowly toward the side. She gave her friend a quick hug and murmured encouragement when they met, and slipped quietly offstage and into the audience to watch the performance.

Jirah ran, terrified. This was entirely too much for his tastes... Undead, necromancers that refused to die, and horrendous demons... And a conscience. Crap. He had promised himself that he would try to help the lady with her undead problems... Well... there was nothing for it but to go see what he could do. Fortunate that Nilani and her orb were well shielded in his pouch. The undead would've come to him like iron filings to a lodestone, otherwise. He slipped through the ranks of the undead, invisible to them. It was times like these that he truly appreciated his wards. Undead saw through magic, and magical detection was deflected around him... so he was safe. The door to the Hostel was open, so he invited himself in, and tried to get his bearings... He'd seen a sketch of this place once... so he set off at a sprint. This could take a while. As he crept through the halls, he found himself slipping into his old thought patterns... and struggling to keep his hands still as he hid in the shadows and allowed others to pass him unknowing, and undisturbed. As he was beginning to despair of ever finding the right room, he heard voices from behind a door. "Well, that was unexpectedly difficult." "Yes. Yes, it was. And I think it's left us with an even bigger mystery than the one we started with, Yui." After a moment of contemplation, he cracked the door open and found a young-looking woman lying on the floor, held by a gray haired old man in outrageous looking armour. As he fully opened the door, he saw a woman standing near the two. She would be "Yui". Then his gaze found the woman that man was holding, once again. Something in the back of his mind twitched, and memories flooded forth... "Aria..." No... It wasn't her. It couldn't be. He'd seen her killed himself. But... she looked just like her... With an ice cold gaze fixed on the man holding her, he stepped fully into the room. "What did you do to her?" He demanded. The words flowed from his mouth like liquid flame.

Erin lay sprawled on her bed, hand clutching a faded, worn sheet of paper. From the other room, she heard Steve laughing. It would be at some stupid show, or a joke, or something. It always fascinated her to realize how much she could figure out without leaving her room, just by listening... and it always helped to distract her, as well. Until she realized that she was distracting herself. As she glanced back at her paper, it flooded back to her. “He won’t understand...” She whispered to herself. “He can’t understand... He knows something’s wrong, but he... “I can’t even understand it myself. Why should I expect him to? I could never tell him, anyway... When push comes to shove, I just can’t do it.” It had seemed such a good idea, at first. She had always been able to put her thoughts into words best when she wrote them down... But when she had finished, it didn’t seem to make any sense after the first reading. “I don’t know how to say this... and I’m sorry that it’s necessary.” She read. “I promised myself once... almost a year ago, now... that I would never hurt you. “It would appear that I lied... I know this will hurt you. There’s just no other way. “I loved you, once. You could have ripped my stomach out and fed it to your cats... and I would have forgiven you. It doesn’t matter, anymore... You ripped my heart out instead, and you ground it into the asphalt. It’s never been the same. “I thought that given a few weeks, or at most a few months, I could get back to being a friend... no more. But... I haven’t. For what you’ve done to me, I’ve forgiven you. I forgave you that long ago. “I just can’t bring myself to forgive you for what you’ve done to Jenny... Or for what you’re doing to yourself. I can’t be around you anymore.” She sighed. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t afford not to... but she just couldn’t do it. She didn’t have it in her. With a sigh, she flipped the paper over and began to sketch out patterns on the back. Nothing would come. “There truly are no flowers...” She whispered. “Not this time.” “Hey! What’s up?” She looked up to see Steve standing in the door to her room. “Nothing... Just doodling.” She forced an indifferent expression. “Oh. Mind setting that aside for a minute? Phone for you.” “Sure... Who is it?” “It’s Kevin.” Steve passed her the phone and disappeared. “Lovely...” She muttered. Then, with the phone to her mouth, more loudly: “Hello?” “Hey! Are you busy this Saturday?” Kevin’s voice replied. “Umm... Not so far as I know... Why?” “I’m having a party out here that night. Can you make it?” “I’ll do what I can. But I’ve got to go...” “Ok. I’ll see you then.” Kevin’s laugh was cut short by a beep as she hung up. Quietly, slowly, she folded and tore, refolded and tore yet again, the letter she had written. Finally, weeping in frustration, she dropped the fragments into the bag she hung from her door. Even she couldn’t the words that were whispered softly... They were more thoughts than speech. “I’d share with you, could I only speak, just how much this hurts me.”

(OOC Note: Please don't post in this thread unless you've been introduced... Commentary is welcome in the OOC Thread) Alaeha stepped out of her seclusion in the corner, looking for Ayshela. Where had she gotten to? Her gaze found the entrance, and she laughed. The guards had finally overstepped their bounds, it appeared. "Ayshela..." She said as she came within hearing range of her friend. "I'm sorry that I'm late with this... I think it's about time that I start my show up." "Your show..." Ayshela thought for a moment. "Oh! That! I'll have the Band take a break at the end of this number." "That'll be great." Alaeha smiled, and walked toward the stage. The song seemed to stretch on into eternity, and she grew nervous. She had performed countless times before... but never before people whose opinions she truly cared about. It was a whole new gamble... and she feared that she was going to fail miserably. Finally, the music faded out, the stagehands gathered the Band's chairs and stands, and the musicians walked offstage. She took a deep breath, laughed softly as she let it out, and ascended the stage with a smile. "Excuse me!" She called out into the murmuring crowd. "The Band is taking a break for a time, and I've arranged for entertainment of a sort to fill the time. I have a list of performers who will be reading tales that they've written for this occasion, and I'll be introducing them as they come. "First, though, I'll be starting this off with a piece of my own. "A little about myself... I'm a Spellsinger, half-elven (half=human), raised by a guild of Bards. (They had a different definition of Bard) The piece I'm about to read for you is called "These Stark Words". It was written based on AFI's song "This Time Imperfect". Alaeha looked down for a moment, emptied her lungs of all air, inhaled deeply, and looked up as she began her short tale...

Gah! Sorry... Was just trying to make it perfectly clear as to what the reaction to each type of post was. You get evil evil looks if you post in the show thread without being introduced. If you've been introduced, you get happy looks. :woot: Sorry... apart from that, I think you're pretty much right.

Ok... So I'm about a week or so late with this... Sorry about that. Real life struck me hard with a History Exam. My brain is just about finished recovering from that, so I'll be getting this started now. This thread will now be open for any further questions and any OOC commentary people have on the main thread. This is presumably occuring during the Fall Ball, but the events in the Fall Ball thread should go on without more than passing reference to the show... Don't really want to screw up anybody's interaction. And I'll be stressing this a lot... but that's because it's important. Please do not post on the Show's main thread without being introduced. Introduced posts = :woot: Unintroduced posts = *Hugs*

Yes... absolute Yayness. *Hugs*

Walking at a leisurely pace to the door of the Hostel, Jirah moved soundlessly through the night. As he neared the place, his gaze swept over the building. It fit the description he'd found in the Baron's files. His lips quirked at the memory of the former Baron. He'd been a rather fat man... a pompous old fool, really. His people would be better off without him. That was why Jirah had taken the job... Ever since Nilani, he hadn't been able to kill those who were honestly good... not like that. As he neared the door, he felt his wrist grow warm, and he snapped his attention back to the present. There was magic here. He'd have a time of it sneaking in, then... his bracelet would protect him from unfocused magical detection... but if they looked for him specifically, he might be in trouble. He smiled as he looked at the door. The wizardess had probably left a spell on it... the papers had said she was paranoid. Granted, he admitted, they also said she wasn't human, and that she had made secret pacts with some of the darker powers... but then, with wizards, who knew? It was a simple matter to circle the building and find an unoccupied room. He stood for a moment on the ledge outside the window, then launched himself for the roof. With a firm grip on the edge, he pulled himself onto the top. "Elves don't have a monopoly on dexterity and grace." He mouthed, not really putting any breath into it. The courtyard would be near the center of this place, if the layout was at all normal... so he travelled lightly to the nearest opening in the roof, and crept toward it silently. He was rewarded with a momentary glance at a woman reading, by candle light. Fortunately, she had her back to him, but he backed up quickly. He wasn't here with a living target... but this would certainly make things more interesting. He'd hate to have to kill someone because he was so clumsy as to be seen. Further inspection showed the next opening to be the proper place. Fortunately, no one appeared to be in the courtyard. In the center of the courtyard was his target. The jewel encrusted fountain written of in the Baron's papers. How a wizardess could possibly have afforded such a thing was unfathomable... but it didn't matter. Just one of those jewels, the scribes had said, was worth more than some poor traders made in their lives. There was a tree a few feet from the roof, and a quick stepping leap landed him comfortably in its branches without too much noise. Seconds later, he was beside the fountain, appraising the various jewels. Finally, he found one that he suspected wouldn't be missed quickly. He reached into his sleeves and withdrew a cheap knife he'd collected on the way in. His good knives had to stay sharp, of course... As he set the tip of the knife to the edge of the jewel, he heard a faint scratching sound, followed by a hiss, come from behind him. Just a rat... or a cat. Or a cat stalking a rat. He turned to look, and leaped aside as a nauseating monstrosity came flying toward him. It landed on the fountain and hissed again, before attempting once more to pounce him. This time it met his knife, which he promptly planted in the ground at his feet. "Curious creature." He muttered. "It looks like it is... or was... a rat. But it doesn't seem to be bleeding... and it doesn't seem to be terribly fazed by being impaled. Fortunate that I'm wearing gloves." Judging the distance between the courtyard and the outside of the Hostel, he quickly snapped the creature's neck (which, he noticed, seemed to affect its motion more than his dagger had) and hurled it over the roof into the grounds outside. He looked back at the fountain, at the jewel, and at his knife. With a shake of his head, he decided to leave the fountain as it was for the night. As he left the Hostel, he decided that he would have to try to find some way to inform its owner of her rat problem.

... *Laughs* This is hilariously funny... The bridge probably was overkill... But that's ok.

Alaeha stopped herself just around the corner from the ballroom to take a brief inventory of herself. Her dress fit properly... and through some miracle didn't manage to restrict her movements as much as she had expected. The loose fabric still hid the dagger behind her sash. Everything was as it had been when she left her room, clear down to the butterflies in her stomach. With a laugh and a softly sung melody, she banished the butterflies, sending them to join their kin with Annael. Having regained her confidence, she walked the remaining distance to the ballroom quickly, though she retained the grace her mentors had helped her to perfect. As a SpellSinger and a diplomat, she wasn't allowed the luxury of imperfection. As she neared the door, she forced a smile and drew the invitation from within her sleeves. "My apologies for my tardiness..." She said. "I trust I'm still allowed in?" The Guards looked from the blonde half-elf before them to the invitation in her hand, to eachother, back to the woman, and opened the doors with matching shrugs. She smiled warmly, flattered at receiving two looks, and entered. A quick scan of the crowd showed Ayshela to be busy, so she found Salinye admiring the decorations. Smiling to herself, this time, Alaeha snuck up behind Salinye with a mischievous look to her face. "It's lovely." She commented from behind the Wizardess. "The entire room is, really. Laughing at her friend's surprise, she swept her into an embrace. "So how has the ball been thus far? Did I miss anything?" She asked, slipping into the festive mood of the occasion.

Acrostic poems can be great fun... or exceptionally depressing. It all depends on what they're written for. This one was just plain cute.

I love it... A masterfully written pompous speech. Good luck, Annael.

It's quite well done, I think... though I have one spot that did kind of bug me... The end of the first section changes from past to present tense for no apparent reason. simply changing puts to put, and begins to began (as well as are to were") would be sufficient to put it into past tense, and would (in my own opinion) help that part of it a great deal. To be perfectly honest... I'm not sure I can really sympathize with the character, myself. Her view is rather distorted... generally, the sorts of people who worry that they aren't good enough for their friends are fine, from my observations. (I may be mistaken here, though... I don't have much to base it on. Just the fact that Alishon has an attitude much like my Mom's, and she's quite a good parent) *Hugs* As I said... it's quite well done. And it certainly strikes chords.

*Hugs* Happy Birthday! *Hugs again*

For myself, I like to burn bridges when I come to them (courtesy of my Dad). I also like to spill my milk under the drawbridge.

Having your sons entering the ball on their own? Or the show? Or something else altogether? If you mean the ball... then certainly, it would be better to ask Ayshela. For myself, I'd imagine that it would be fine to have your sons enter in a separate post. As for handling the multiple personae... I have no idea. If you mean the show, then so long as you made it clear in the PM you sent me that it was one of them that would be presenting the piece, then you could have either of them or even one of your bodyguards deliver it, if you can convince them that you'll be safe with just the one.. And you can present more than one piece... I fully intend to present more than one myself, if I can find the time to write them.