Merelas

Arielle found him quietly, and patted his arm. He sighed, and pushed his glasses back up. It was the only contact they'd ever had, and that they ever would have. And immediately when Rich shows up, she forgets him. He goes back to his assignment, making sure that he had completed every question quite perfectly. He forced thoughts of Arielle and Richard being together out of his mind, and replaced them with the names of carbon bonds, double helixes, and blood cells. When Joe walked in tossed the disc back, Walter offered one of his rare smiles to Joe, and saw him go back to his music quickly. For a moment, he looked at it, before carefully picking up the disc and placing it on his stack of books. He looked back to Arielle and Rich and Tiffany, and then quickly back to his paper. meiosis... mitosis... carbon bonds... deoxy-ribonucleic acid...

Wow... this is impressive. I'm sad that no one had replied to it yet. The sense of hopelessness is palpable in the poem, and the writer displays this very well. The only thing I would suggest changing is some of the rhythm (I probably spelled this word wrong) in the last stanza: The line "Old familiar faces loom," is sort of awkward for me... I don't know why, it just doesn't ring right to my ear. Nonetheless, it is a very excellent poem. I hope I get a chance to read more from you!

Hmm. Well, maybe it was a subconscious thing... and I just made your conscsious realize it Very buddha-licious.

Joins in the festivities CLEAN CUP, CLEAN CUP, MOVE DOWN!

Walter traverses the hallways that are always hell for him silently. The trick, he had found, was to keep your eyes down and not look at anyone. He knew the hallways by the floorboards, by now, and so there was no need to look up. He pushed his glasses back up onto his nose, and kept going. He was always there early, and always left late. It was easier to avoid beiung seen by people who would rather not deal with him anyways. And if they did want to see him, they knew where to find him, in any case. He made the final turn to the hallway that lead to his classroom, eyes still glued to the floor, books still carefully in hand. Safely, he reached the classroom, a good 10 minutes before class was supposed to start. He sat at the same desk he always stayed at, got out his assignment from the previous night, and reviewed it.

Hmm... I like the idea... it's just the execution I'm worried about. However, I'm not sure if I would participate due to everything that's on my plate. Maybe... there's at least a chance. It definitely does sound very intriguing and I would be willing to give it a shot at least. And by the way, I had no idea that you were Rendelle, Katz. Blew my mind In summary, because I said a lot without saying anything at all: I will play, but don't expect a post every hour. I hope this goes through development well.

Bah. Oh well... Let's get this road on the show!

Hmm. I would say that I agree with these comments after reading and then going back, but I didn't immediately notice it. I think it's one of those things that you might not notice, but it would make it sound a whole lot better that way... at least to the casual reader... since that's what I am. I have never read Ender's Game (despite a certain best friend's endless nagging), and I plan on doing it soon, so I don't know if that should be a concern or not. I definitely like this... the awkwardness with the girl, and wondering if this is ok, but accepting it anyway definitely sounds like it could be a dream to me. I agree with and did have the same questions as Katzaniel, but I'm betting that it will be explained in the next post. I definitely want more... I'll be watching this one. -Mere

I think we have enough... and he has to assign roles and stuff like that, and it would be difficult if you have more people come in once people's characters have been established and yeah. I understand your closing deggy.

Looking very good. I have always wondered at those who have a talent for drawing. It amazes me to no end that people can pick up a pencil or pen or brush and make something look like something else on a piece of paper. Because I can't... at all Oh well. Well done!

Hmmm... This reminds me of the last supper, where Jesus declared the bread to be his body... flesh... body... flesh... body... Maybe not. But after Buddha put it in religious context and said all that, And Katz asked that question, it sounded to me as though it was indeed a "last supper." One of the saddest realities of life. People have the right to make their own choices, but when should that right be denied in their own interests? Good poem, good discussion.

Alric shifted uneasily. There were those here who were against each other, and it wasn't his place to save them. "Dream Assassin?" That must have something to do with psionic powers. Quickly, before the man could tamper with his thoughts anymore, he threw up a ward against psychic attack. As an afterthought, he extended the ward to cover Mara the Roc Rider also, and stepped forward. "I am Alric... some would call me an Archmage. I weild magic, but I'm definitely not the most powerful of verdants. I believe I can be of some help to the party. I believe a system where we divide any loot we may find would be the best route to take... Seeing to the fact that there is some dispute about this one," and here he pointed to Xavier, though he did not know his name, "and the level of powers he wields." Edit for a spelling.

Hmm... I'm going to go ahead and say Tanuchan and anyone else... maybe MeThinks? I'm going to be very quiet on the PM front, because my character is someone who would be more of a loner, even with his friends. Sometimes when they're asking for advice, he'll just shrug. Not very many people can get him to open up.

Awww... we lost. I'm sad about that, but well played, wolves! Good luck to all on the next game.

Tanuchan, sounds good. He can be her friends-that-wants-to-be-something-more person, lol. Sounds good, we can share the geek/nerd table at lunch... I'm glad I picked this character.

Nathaniel listens to Markus' defense, and immediately feels a twinge of guilt. But at the word "God," his eyes jerk up from the ground, and he starts to shake subtly. Slowly again, without saying anything, he turns from the campfire and follows Markus. OOC: Sorry all. Change Vote to DeantheAdequate/Blondie

Nathaniel sighs, and looks very uncomfortable. Slowly He looks from Markus to Blondie, and then back again. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he nods his head down, then up, and back to center, and never says a word. OOC:Vote for Degenero Angelus/Markus Black

Happy Birthday To YOU! Happy Birthday To YOU! Happy Birthday Dear Lady Shade HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! May your day be the best you've had in a long time, and warm birthday wishes from all your friends at the pen!

Thanks for all the comments, I appreciate them. I'm taking classes in Spanish but apparently not very good. I'm finding that conversation and writing in Spanish are very different things. Thanks again everyone!

Sure Tanny! I can love you again!

If it's all right, I'll sign up then. I'll be playing Walter Mortonson, your average Nerd in the high shcool. He likes calculus and thinks that the girl in his 3rd period Biology that sits kitty-corner from him is cute... (anyone who wants to play the part is welcome to, but if not then it'll remain an NPC). That's all.

As soon as Amanda finishes bandaging him, Nate turns to her, and speaks. "Amanda... I need to be alone to think for a little while. I think that I'll be out on the prarie... not too far... but please don't come look for me. I'll be back when I'm ready... I just... have some figuring to do." Amanda looks up at him, concerned, but ready to do as he's asked. He bends down, and kisses her forehead, and whispers, "I love you." He rests his forehead against hers for a moment, eyes closed, enjoying the presence of the only woman he would ever love. Then he turns, and walks out of camp, within sight of the wagons, but not hearing distance. Slowly, he sets himself down until he is almost eye-level with the grass. He watches it sway back and forth as the wind ripples it like waves. Waves... he thought. He missed the waves of the ocean. His mind went back to his hometown and the cliff it rested on. He remembered looking out over the cliff and down onto the waves below, crashing onto the rocks and against the cliff, slowly eroding it over time. In that town, he had been so praised. His father had so many aspirations for him--even one day becoming governor. Alan Bluett had been so dissapointed when his son had said he wanted to go west. "Your life is here, Nathaniel! You have commitments and your family to look after! We did not send you to law school so that you could run amuck and go trap beaver for the rest of your life like some... some dirty trapper!" He had said it like it were a bad word, and any longing to stay that had resided in Nathaniel's heart faded then. His father was a bigot, and he would have none of it. It was then that he turned away from his family, and headed west. His father had caught him on the day of their departure and apologized, and all had been forgiven. But in his heart of hearts, Nathaniel knew that he would never truly live up to his father's expectations... the next-eldest son had the prized affection of his father now. And the grass reminded him of all that. It swayed almost like the ocean did especially on a stormy day... almost. His life was just that--memories of his past. He had no place here. He had accused someone. He had finally gone out on a limb and stood up for what he believed in, and he had been wrong. All of the thought he had put into his accusations, all of the belief that they had carried... it was all gone in a flash of light and blood. The man had died because of him, and he had been innocent. "Law is the practice of seeking justice for the crimes of the guilty, while protecting the rights of the innocent." One of his professors at Harvard had said that... and he had not only accused an innocent, but brought about his death. In addition, his actions had lead to the murder of another innocent--Gertrude McAlister. Trudy had been a good woman... a little harsh at times, and accusing of himself, but always a strong, good-hearted woman. And he had caused her death as well because she had seen through the lies and defended someone who was innocent. She would've made a better judge than me, he thought slowly, weepingly. He refused to cry this time. He didn't deserve that much. But he would never accuse another person again. If it came to a vote, he had his doubts, but he would never lead to the suspicion of another member as long as he should live. OOC: No Vote Yet, coming soon

I love this! There are a few grammatical errors, and when I have time I promise I'll come back to them and write 'em out for you (if someone doesn't beat me to it). This is a strange plot that I really want to read more of! Keep on it! gimme MOOOOOOOOORRRRRRREEEEEEE!

OOC: I'm sorry to ask, but could we get a scorecard?

Hmm. I like the rhythm (I always think I spell that word wrong) that you use in this poem a lot. For some reason, the tempo just really fits in my mind. The images that you're trying to portray somehow fit with it... ok so I can't explain it but it does really good for me. The only thing I wish were different were that it were longer. I like it as is, but if there were more... well... as they say, the more the merrier! Nice work, Mira.