Post by RIPLEY "TRAMP" GWYNN on Aug 4, 2011 21:45:00 GMT -5
Iceland was extremely bored. Rose has seemingly disappeared with that stupid Gully boy. And she hadn't run into any reincarnations that were awake enough to play with. She huffed, and continued to walk down Central Park. She gained a few stares, something she was use to. Especially when she dressed the way she did.
A sleeveless sailor lolita number, with a fluffy skirt that went to mid-shin, lace gloves, lace stockings, and a lace parasol sheilding her delicate powder white skin from view. A lace purse was hooked around her elbow, which contained a miniature of a broomstick that she could enlarge to fullsize if something went drastically wrong. But no one ever seemed to mess with the cute, sweet looking dolly girl.
She sat dramatically on a nearby park bench, her body collapsing as though someone had cut the string that kept her right up. She raised a hand to touch her loose curls, and make sure the bow in her hair was perfectly in place, before sitting up again. Idly, she sat and twirled the parasol on her shoulder, looking around with an air of boredom.
"It's rather slow today, isn't it?" Came the echo from the deep recess of her mind.
"It's always slow, Wicked." She murmured under her breath, doing her best not to move her lips while she spoke to her constant companion. Her tone even sounding bored and exasperated with the Wicked Witch she shared a body with.
"But you felt the rumble, the change in the field last night?" Asked Wicked curiously.
Iceland remembered it. It felt like a mental sonic boom. A reincarnate was now gone. Either they completed their mission, or they had died. Iceland had felt the terror that shot through the webs that connected each dtory to each other, and she fed off of the fear like a delicious candy. She smiled wistfully to herself, and crossed one leg over the other; otherwise remaining perfectly still save for the slow spin of the parasol behind her head.
"Of course I did. It was magnificent. I would love to meet someone who caused such a fright. They could be my friend." Iceland said innocently, before suddenly lookng very sad. Her spine seemed to curve down while she slumped over. Friends. She didn't have them. Or, rather, Wicked didn't have them. And she made sure that Iceland would suffer the same fate.
Everything was a game of manipulation. Often, Iceland wondered if she too would die, should they find and kill Dorothy. But she also knew, that killing Dorothy, meant killing the host. And to kill Wicked, they would have to kill her in turn.
And before she ran the risk of death, just once. Once, she would like to have someone to call friend.
Her pretty, perfectly painted face seemed to scrunch up, while tears fell from her eyes. The eyes that rarely blinked, and that flashed occasionally as though someone were flicking a light behind the blue things. For the first time in a long time, Iceland felt very lonely.
Notes: OPEN!
Anyone can join.
Outfit:Purdy doll.
Hair:Only with a beige bow. Icey is so kyoot.
A sleeveless sailor lolita number, with a fluffy skirt that went to mid-shin, lace gloves, lace stockings, and a lace parasol sheilding her delicate powder white skin from view. A lace purse was hooked around her elbow, which contained a miniature of a broomstick that she could enlarge to fullsize if something went drastically wrong. But no one ever seemed to mess with the cute, sweet looking dolly girl.
She sat dramatically on a nearby park bench, her body collapsing as though someone had cut the string that kept her right up. She raised a hand to touch her loose curls, and make sure the bow in her hair was perfectly in place, before sitting up again. Idly, she sat and twirled the parasol on her shoulder, looking around with an air of boredom.
"It's rather slow today, isn't it?" Came the echo from the deep recess of her mind.
"It's always slow, Wicked." She murmured under her breath, doing her best not to move her lips while she spoke to her constant companion. Her tone even sounding bored and exasperated with the Wicked Witch she shared a body with.
"But you felt the rumble, the change in the field last night?" Asked Wicked curiously.
Iceland remembered it. It felt like a mental sonic boom. A reincarnate was now gone. Either they completed their mission, or they had died. Iceland had felt the terror that shot through the webs that connected each dtory to each other, and she fed off of the fear like a delicious candy. She smiled wistfully to herself, and crossed one leg over the other; otherwise remaining perfectly still save for the slow spin of the parasol behind her head.
"Of course I did. It was magnificent. I would love to meet someone who caused such a fright. They could be my friend." Iceland said innocently, before suddenly lookng very sad. Her spine seemed to curve down while she slumped over. Friends. She didn't have them. Or, rather, Wicked didn't have them. And she made sure that Iceland would suffer the same fate.
Everything was a game of manipulation. Often, Iceland wondered if she too would die, should they find and kill Dorothy. But she also knew, that killing Dorothy, meant killing the host. And to kill Wicked, they would have to kill her in turn.
And before she ran the risk of death, just once. Once, she would like to have someone to call friend.
Her pretty, perfectly painted face seemed to scrunch up, while tears fell from her eyes. The eyes that rarely blinked, and that flashed occasionally as though someone were flicking a light behind the blue things. For the first time in a long time, Iceland felt very lonely.
Notes: OPEN!
Anyone can join.Outfit:Purdy doll.
Hair:Only with a beige bow. Icey is so kyoot.
