|
Beneath_a_Blood_Red_Moon
|
read my profile
sign my guestbook
Name: Jade
Location: Oxford, United Kingdom
Birthday: 3/17/1927
Gender: Female
Interests: killing, dancing, singing, mischief, mayhem, and a bunch of other stuff
Expertise: all of the above....
Occupation: Other
Industry: Other
Message: message me
Member Since:
1/13/2006
|
|
| i picked one! i'm so happy, it suits her better. enjoy the rest of you day!
| | |
| ok so i'm sitting her bored out of my mind, so i say to myself, "Self..."
"Yes self?"
"Jade's picture kinda sucks...."
"Well, self, I know, but I can't find a better one...."
"Then make one!"
"Oh dang! I could do that!"
" Then go do it self!" and i did!
But i really am having problem deciding which one is better, I had to
redo the eye featured in both, so no I didn't create the whole
thing.... it's sad really. But if you could all vote on
which one is better, it will be posted here and on my own person
xanga... this one??? or....
 this one?
to vote for the first one, start your post with the word Knife, for the second one start with the word Lips. Thank you!
| | |
| I have decided that if someone wants to read about Jade's history
conologically, then they'll just have to wait until it's written!
until then the profile pic is an almost to-scale drawing of Aran, Jade
Shamaros, and Anna Koen (in order of height). Aran should be
taller. I hope that no one minds the fact that they don't have
faces (can't draw them well... and would rather not ruin the
picture). I also hope that everyone likes it.
| | |
| Cyrus stormed into the barn looking for the absent stableboy. After he had checked the loft he started searching the stalls. By the sixteenth and final stall smoke was pouring from hie enormous Persian ears. Looking in he saw a bulky lad curled into a ball. Enraged Cyrus lashed out with a kick to the negligent boy's stomach. He thought of how fat the kid looked, but was shocked when the body flew up and into the stall's wall knocking the boy's hat off. This revealed long brown hair surrounding an angel's face. For a few moments Cyrus just stared at the beautiful girl he had just killed. His face paled as he realized he could have just killed one of the most beautiful people he had ever seen. He quickly went down on his knees to check her vitals. A pulse beat slowly and Cyrus allowed himself to hope that he had not killed another innocent. He looked for external wounds; he found a large bump on the back of her skull. He then checked for broken bones, finding none he remembered to make himself breathe.
Picking up the body he knew that she was malnourished, but muscled, like she was accustomed to hard labor. Cyrus left the horses standing inside the stable knowing that they would not wander off. Just to be extra safe, due to his luck in the past few moments, he shut the door and barred it. He shifted the waif in his arms and made for the inn shielding the girl from the pouring rain.
Cyrus made it through the inn's backdoor with out soaking the slight load cradled in his arms. A few of the workers crossed themselves when they saw the bundle in his arms, one woman even shrieked while running out of the kitchen.
As the warn kitchen was left behind, the girl huddled closer to his chest as if seeking comfort. If only the girl knew that she was cuddling with one of the devil's own. He took the stairs two at a time trying to reach his friend, his Lord's, suite of rooms. | | |
| There are so many things that she needs to say and so little tim ein which to say them. Well then, she shall begin. Her story won't take too long to tell, but it will take as long as it needs.
It all started around the beginning of the 10th century, so 924c.e.. Back then she was known as Lilly the pauper. Believe her when she says that being a pauper most of her human life grants her the ability to say that money might not buy hapiness, but it sure as hell makes life easier.
Now on with the tale of Jade.
It was one of those warmer days in December, you know, the ones when you could walk outside and only your nose and buggers would freeze. There were nights like tonight when there was room in the loft or a stall of the tavern's stable and so she would get to sleep there in exchange for brushing down the six perminently stabled horses there.
The truth is that she loves horses, even though she had not ridden for a very, very long itme. She could still remember the feel of being free and wild with her hari loose and streaming behind her like a banner of freedom. Her trip through her past was cut short by a sharp kick to her ribs that lifted her off the ground and slammed her into the wall of the stall she had been laying in . Outraged she thought she had shot straight up to confront her attacker, but the pain had been so great that she had slipped into oblivion.
yup that's all you get, for now... I'll try to post daily for her, but no promises.
| | |
|
