Don't own nuthin' so sue if you want my air, but that really wouldn't be much fun after garlic soup would it? Basic unoriginal plot of death (not really, but everything has to end in death when you write a sentence). The gist of it is that modern American girl gets transported, not by a pillar of light, by what is reminiscent of hell opening under her feet when ever anyone tells her to go to hell, that, I think may, be, in some remote part of this universe, unique. I could be wrong because I often am. That and I'm easily confused by things. Read and Review, because when you do you help me help you...or something, but seriously it is nice and makes you a nice person 'cause mean people suck...no offense to any mean people that may read this. *smile*
The Insanity One Can Cause
Eryn Michail hummed softly while tapping her foot to the beat of her own tune. In her elegant hands was clasped the latest issue of Seventeen which her amber eyes pored over intently. To right rested a nondescript lamp upon a table stand and to her left sat her three little brothers, all of which were currently gagged and tied to their chairs. She ignored the muffled shouts and continued to thumb through the pages. She had warned them about annoying her while she watched them for her parents, but they hadn't listened...
"Mmph oomph ooh!" cried Max, the oldest of the three hellions. She glanced at him, one eyebrow raised inquiringly. He repeated his muffled phrase and she pretended to misunderstand his meaning.
"You want me to read this issue's latest quiz questions?" she asked innocently. When the three shook their heads vehemently she smiled sweetly and proceeded to read the questions.
"One. You've just been on a killer date, but he drops you off an hour later than your curfew. Do your parents a..." she continued through the whole thing as they screamed impotently. She then moved on to the question and answer section, which featured a girl who was having problems with her menstrual cycle. By the time her parents arrived her brothers were unable to talk and left her room in a state of utter despondency.
"I warned you," she sang sweetly as Max left. He turned and glared angrily at her, his green-gold eyes promising retribution.
"Go to hell, Eryn," he hissed, which is precisely what she did at that moment...
"...hell, Eryn."
With a curse she landed on her butt in a place that was close enough to hell for her. Tanned, bald men were running around like crazed ants and large mecha-like things were restraining another, even larger, mecha-like thing with strange hooks. If this was some sort of sick cosmic joke she wasn't laughing. Well, actually she was, but that was because she was on the verge of a mental break down. Fortunately no one seemed to notice the black-haired, with indigo streaks, girl laughing hysterically in a corner.
"Dammit, Max, where have you sent me?" she demanded softly. Her amber eyes scanned the area for any sign of familiarity. Suddenly, from the corner of her eye, she noticed a limping figure slip into the waiting darkness of a doorway. If her mental capacity hadn't been damaged too severely, she would guess that that person was trying not to be seen just like she should be doing. Why wasn't she? She had to think for a second about that one. With a resigned shrug she quickly followed suit.
"...escape when I'm wounded?" demanded a frustrated voice. She stood in the doorway looking at a rather more than just attractive guy with dark brown hair and gray eyes. He seemed to be wearing some sort of heavy black and blue armor that had apparently seen better days. With an inward cringe she noticed the blood seeping from a deep wound in his leg.
"Who the hell are you?" he demanded noticing her for the first. He tried to unsheathe the sword by his side, but was in too much pain. Before she could answer or assist him a pair of pale white hands appeared behind him.
"Behind you!" she screamed in warning. He instinctively followed her command and spun around to face his attacker.
"Damn you, girl," hissed the owner of the hands. The black retreated to reveal the freakiest looking thing she had never wished to see. The creature had translucent, pale flesh with tiger stripe tattoos, at least that was what they looked like to her, odd hair that was braided yet resembled tentacles almost. Despite the fact that this being was completely androgynous, lacking gender identifiable genitalia, the most disturbing aspect was the brilliant, almost glowing, green eyes.
"Zongi, what the hell were you going to do?" the injured boy demanded angrily. This time he had successfully withdrawn his sword.
"I can't let them know about me," the being, apparently named Zongi, replied. It became immediately obvious that he was unable to speak with a hiss in his scratchy voice.
"Deceptants, you're all the same," the boy spat in contempt.
"And is this the girl you spoke of earlier?" Zongi demanded pointing a claw-like appendage at her. She edged uneasily away from it, disgust and revulsion plain on her face.
The boy looked her up and down brashly and shrugged his shoulders, "No, she's not, but she certainly dresses funny." Eryn's cheeks bloomed red and an angry flame burned in her amber eyes.
"The latter is true," the deceptant, or whatever the guy called it, remarked with a sneer.
"I wouldn't be talking, freak!" she exclaimed, fury evident in her voice, "And you...you, injured idiot, I think after saving you butt you'd be a little more appreciative!" The two before her exchanged a look of understanding that only served to raise her ire.
"Girls," the boy remarked as if by that simple word the reasons for her outburst were completely revealed. Her eyes narrowed dangerously and, with a devious idea in her mind, she realized she still possessed her magazine. Unobtrusively she quickly rolled it up and took a deep cleansing breath.
The two before her had no warning as she swiftly whacked them both across the head with the rolled up magazine. They were too stunned for a moment by her vicious attack to do anything to prevent her onslaught.
"What the hell?" the boy demanded. Despite his injury he managed to wrest the weapon away from her angry hands.
"I think the wisest course of action would be to kill her," the freak commented angrily. The boy gave her a glance that seemed to say that he would like nothing better than to follow the freak's advice.
"Don't even think of it," she warned them, trying to grab back her magazine.
"I'll take care of it," the boy said with a sigh.
"The hell you will!" Eryn shrieked. Whatever the hell was going on in the courtyard with the giant metal things was better than what was currently occurring here. With that in mind she made a run for it, but didn't get more than a few steps. A pair of vise-like hands grabbed her arms and wrenched them painfully back. She struggled impotently for a few moments before conceding defeat and relaxing, but that didn't mean she quit cursing vividly and imaginatively.
"Shut up! Do you want them to find us?" a voice hissed in her ear. Apparently the boy had overcome his pain in order to prevent her escape.
"Well, what did you really expect?" she demanded hotly, "I mean, first that freak says I should be killed then you said, all mobster like, 'I'll take care of it'!"
"You misunderstood me," the boy informed her with exasperation.
"I did?" she asked sarcastically.
"What I meant was that I'd handle you in my own way," he replied harshly.
"So now I'm an object, am I? An 'it'?" she raged. He was unable to dodge the blow that followed.
"I plan on escaping now; you can either shut up and come with me or stay here as a corpse," he told her coldly as he released her, obviously at the end of his patience.
"Now that sounded like a threat," she retorted sardonically. She frowned angrily when he made no reply, amber eyes flashing feral gold. For the briefest of moments she considered telling him to screw himself because she wasn't going anywhere. Then common sense reasserted itself before she did something stupid. With a sigh of resignation she raised her hands in defeat.
"Fine, whatever," she pouted, grabbing back her magazine from his unresisting hand.
"If you two do not leave immediately and cease arguing I will kill you!" the freaky dude declared through clenched teeth.
"So, what's your name?" she asked the boy politely.
"Miguel Lavariel," he replied curtly to her query. "Now let's go!" With that he grabbed her arm painfully and began to drag her off.
"Ow! Let go!" Eryn cried smacking him with the magazine. He growled obscenities under his breath.
Now be a good reader and review, or many nasty and unpleasant things that I am not at liberty to discuss shall happen and you won't like them...well...you might, but then you're just weird. *smile*
The Insanity One Can Cause
Eryn Michail hummed softly while tapping her foot to the beat of her own tune. In her elegant hands was clasped the latest issue of Seventeen which her amber eyes pored over intently. To right rested a nondescript lamp upon a table stand and to her left sat her three little brothers, all of which were currently gagged and tied to their chairs. She ignored the muffled shouts and continued to thumb through the pages. She had warned them about annoying her while she watched them for her parents, but they hadn't listened...
"Mmph oomph ooh!" cried Max, the oldest of the three hellions. She glanced at him, one eyebrow raised inquiringly. He repeated his muffled phrase and she pretended to misunderstand his meaning.
"You want me to read this issue's latest quiz questions?" she asked innocently. When the three shook their heads vehemently she smiled sweetly and proceeded to read the questions.
"One. You've just been on a killer date, but he drops you off an hour later than your curfew. Do your parents a..." she continued through the whole thing as they screamed impotently. She then moved on to the question and answer section, which featured a girl who was having problems with her menstrual cycle. By the time her parents arrived her brothers were unable to talk and left her room in a state of utter despondency.
"I warned you," she sang sweetly as Max left. He turned and glared angrily at her, his green-gold eyes promising retribution.
"Go to hell, Eryn," he hissed, which is precisely what she did at that moment...
"...hell, Eryn."
With a curse she landed on her butt in a place that was close enough to hell for her. Tanned, bald men were running around like crazed ants and large mecha-like things were restraining another, even larger, mecha-like thing with strange hooks. If this was some sort of sick cosmic joke she wasn't laughing. Well, actually she was, but that was because she was on the verge of a mental break down. Fortunately no one seemed to notice the black-haired, with indigo streaks, girl laughing hysterically in a corner.
"Dammit, Max, where have you sent me?" she demanded softly. Her amber eyes scanned the area for any sign of familiarity. Suddenly, from the corner of her eye, she noticed a limping figure slip into the waiting darkness of a doorway. If her mental capacity hadn't been damaged too severely, she would guess that that person was trying not to be seen just like she should be doing. Why wasn't she? She had to think for a second about that one. With a resigned shrug she quickly followed suit.
"...escape when I'm wounded?" demanded a frustrated voice. She stood in the doorway looking at a rather more than just attractive guy with dark brown hair and gray eyes. He seemed to be wearing some sort of heavy black and blue armor that had apparently seen better days. With an inward cringe she noticed the blood seeping from a deep wound in his leg.
"Who the hell are you?" he demanded noticing her for the first. He tried to unsheathe the sword by his side, but was in too much pain. Before she could answer or assist him a pair of pale white hands appeared behind him.
"Behind you!" she screamed in warning. He instinctively followed her command and spun around to face his attacker.
"Damn you, girl," hissed the owner of the hands. The black retreated to reveal the freakiest looking thing she had never wished to see. The creature had translucent, pale flesh with tiger stripe tattoos, at least that was what they looked like to her, odd hair that was braided yet resembled tentacles almost. Despite the fact that this being was completely androgynous, lacking gender identifiable genitalia, the most disturbing aspect was the brilliant, almost glowing, green eyes.
"Zongi, what the hell were you going to do?" the injured boy demanded angrily. This time he had successfully withdrawn his sword.
"I can't let them know about me," the being, apparently named Zongi, replied. It became immediately obvious that he was unable to speak with a hiss in his scratchy voice.
"Deceptants, you're all the same," the boy spat in contempt.
"And is this the girl you spoke of earlier?" Zongi demanded pointing a claw-like appendage at her. She edged uneasily away from it, disgust and revulsion plain on her face.
The boy looked her up and down brashly and shrugged his shoulders, "No, she's not, but she certainly dresses funny." Eryn's cheeks bloomed red and an angry flame burned in her amber eyes.
"The latter is true," the deceptant, or whatever the guy called it, remarked with a sneer.
"I wouldn't be talking, freak!" she exclaimed, fury evident in her voice, "And you...you, injured idiot, I think after saving you butt you'd be a little more appreciative!" The two before her exchanged a look of understanding that only served to raise her ire.
"Girls," the boy remarked as if by that simple word the reasons for her outburst were completely revealed. Her eyes narrowed dangerously and, with a devious idea in her mind, she realized she still possessed her magazine. Unobtrusively she quickly rolled it up and took a deep cleansing breath.
The two before her had no warning as she swiftly whacked them both across the head with the rolled up magazine. They were too stunned for a moment by her vicious attack to do anything to prevent her onslaught.
"What the hell?" the boy demanded. Despite his injury he managed to wrest the weapon away from her angry hands.
"I think the wisest course of action would be to kill her," the freak commented angrily. The boy gave her a glance that seemed to say that he would like nothing better than to follow the freak's advice.
"Don't even think of it," she warned them, trying to grab back her magazine.
"I'll take care of it," the boy said with a sigh.
"The hell you will!" Eryn shrieked. Whatever the hell was going on in the courtyard with the giant metal things was better than what was currently occurring here. With that in mind she made a run for it, but didn't get more than a few steps. A pair of vise-like hands grabbed her arms and wrenched them painfully back. She struggled impotently for a few moments before conceding defeat and relaxing, but that didn't mean she quit cursing vividly and imaginatively.
"Shut up! Do you want them to find us?" a voice hissed in her ear. Apparently the boy had overcome his pain in order to prevent her escape.
"Well, what did you really expect?" she demanded hotly, "I mean, first that freak says I should be killed then you said, all mobster like, 'I'll take care of it'!"
"You misunderstood me," the boy informed her with exasperation.
"I did?" she asked sarcastically.
"What I meant was that I'd handle you in my own way," he replied harshly.
"So now I'm an object, am I? An 'it'?" she raged. He was unable to dodge the blow that followed.
"I plan on escaping now; you can either shut up and come with me or stay here as a corpse," he told her coldly as he released her, obviously at the end of his patience.
"Now that sounded like a threat," she retorted sardonically. She frowned angrily when he made no reply, amber eyes flashing feral gold. For the briefest of moments she considered telling him to screw himself because she wasn't going anywhere. Then common sense reasserted itself before she did something stupid. With a sigh of resignation she raised her hands in defeat.
"Fine, whatever," she pouted, grabbing back her magazine from his unresisting hand.
"If you two do not leave immediately and cease arguing I will kill you!" the freaky dude declared through clenched teeth.
"So, what's your name?" she asked the boy politely.
"Miguel Lavariel," he replied curtly to her query. "Now let's go!" With that he grabbed her arm painfully and began to drag her off.
"Ow! Let go!" Eryn cried smacking him with the magazine. He growled obscenities under his breath.
Now be a good reader and review, or many nasty and unpleasant things that I am not at liberty to discuss shall happen and you won't like them...well...you might, but then you're just weird. *smile*