- Invitation Status
- Not accepting invites at this time
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Writing Levels
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Nonbinary
- Transgender
- No Preferences
- Genres
- Fantasy (High, Low, Modern, Any), Romance, Supernatural Creatures, Fairytale Retellings, Mythological, Heroes' Journeys, Fandom (Bioware Games). Open to Trying Different Genres.
The rhythmic sounds of cicadas humming mixed with the distant rumble of diesel engines and the high-pitched whine of electric lines hung in the air, occasionally broken up by the urgent blare of a car horn. A hot breeze blew through the city and up into the sky, dragging with it the unpleasant odor of the town. The scent of rotting garage and sickly sweet gasoline clung to Nike's wine red tank top and loose denim jeans. She lay on her back atop a crumbling office building ten stories high. She dozed off and on, her arm thrown over her eyes to block out the occasional light when sun managed to break through the heavy cloud cover. Her prized black hoodie lay beneath her head, haphazardly folded into a pillow. Just another lazy afternoon.
She shifted positions, looking up at the aging sun in the sky. It would be dinner time soon. She glanced to her side where the remnants of her lunch lay, a grease-stained take-away box and half-empty juice pouch, her stomach turning when she considered a second course. Dinner at home sounded more appealing. She sat up, examining herself. Her arms had several patches of yellow skin, healing bruises from the previous night. Easy enough to hide so long as she wore her jacket in the house. She pulled out her ancient phone, turned on the camera function and looked within. Her split lip had healed, but that she'd expected. Her eyes went to the taped down bandage on her forehead, watching her fingers gingerly probed to find the edge and tore it off. Beneath she found stiches from the previous night, lacing together what now appeared to be a long scratched on her forehead. She frowned, remembering the wash of blood from last night when she'd been knocked into a post and cut on loose nail. The people from the emergency clinic had said she'd need a least a week to before the stitches could come out, perhaps even more than that. She removed the stitching, deciding the mostly healed cut looked better than walking in with a bandage on her forehead.
She dropped the remains into the pile next to her, staring at her phone. Her body had been quick to recover these past few weeks, far too quick to normal. Common sense told her it shouldn't be possible to heal from a head wound like that in a night, but she didn't know what to do about it. Telling Xander would be too awkward, or get her a one way ticket to the nearest laboratory. "Then again, maybe he'd say it's just another one of my quirks," she mused, laughing dryly, "I have a lot quirks."
She glanced at her phone screen again before clicking it off and standing up. She swept her jacket up off the ground and zipped it up with a smile. "No use worrying about it now. We need to get back before dinner."
Retrieving her trash piled, she stuffed it into her pockets and approached the edge of the building. Without a moment's hesitation, she gripped the ledge and swing down, stretching her leg to find a foothold. She began a precarious dance down the side of the ruined building, sliding from hand hold to hand hold with little more than a glance with each shift.
She came to the sixth floor, her foot finding the window sill of a spider infested office. Just a few more minutes and she'd be on the ground. She shifted weight to her foot, preparing to move her hand down, when the bricks beneath her crumbled. Her hands slipped and she plummeted down. A shot of adrenaline ran through her veins, sharpening her senses. She made a swipe at the wall but found nothing to grip. Her feet tried as well, doing little more than damaging her worn tennis shoes. She tried again with her hands, grabbing the next ledge that jutted out beneath her, stopped just above the second floor window. She swung into the ruin. The beating of her heart began to slow, stabilizing her vision. She breathed deeply to calm her shaking limbs. Her violet eyes slipped closed, finding her center to bring her mind back to the present. She tested her arms, noting a few more scratches but no serious damage. She sat down with a thud, looking out the window and laughing. "I suppose I'm more durable than I realize." Her long, dark braid had come undone, but she left ignored it. The loose hair helped to hide her cut.
After calming herself, she stood and made jumped from the window to the street, biting back a groan when her feet slapped hard against the concrete of the sidewalk. Thankfully few people came to this end of town and the inhabitance rarely came out during the day. It had been the subject of an "incident" a few years back and after deemed unlivable. Some believed that the demons lived among the ruins, but most knew the government was just too cheap to fix it. The homeless lived among the decrepit buildings now along with those who chose a life away from polite society. Nike straightened up, stretching to relieve her aching muscles. She paused, feeling her pulse increasing again. She glanced over her shoulder, frowning when she found an empty window there. "Weird," she whispered, taking a few steps away from the building. For just a second, she could have sworn something had been standing there. Watching her.
She dug in her pockets and produced a pair of wireless ear buds. She slipped them in and tapped the outer button to resume her music. With sound of traditional piano accompanied by an operatic voice there to drown out the city, she started back toward the center of town, using her usual series of back streets to navigate around the heavy traffic areas. Her route took her through the back alleys, but most days they felt safer to her than the main roads. Fewer people to offend. A down a few alleys, she swore she could feel the eyes on her back again, but nothing ever appeared behind her when she looked. All the same, she picked up her pace. When she came to a crossing point at the main street that ran through the city, she walked over to a trash bin and cleaned out her pockets. Oddly enough, the bandage was nowhere to be seen. "Must have fallen out," she muttered under her breath, turning to cross the street with the crowd that had begun to walk.
Another fifteen minutes of walking brought her to the quiet neighborhood where she lived with her sister and Xander. While not the wealthiest area, few could complain about their lot in life. The homes, mostly recently painted, were packed together in an orderly fashion, each with a small yard hidden behind a tall wooden fence. Some even boasted a two car garage. Nike slowed her pace as she approached their street, peering round the corner cautiously to be sure Xander had no one watching for her return. She preferred to arrive when he was away, and then sneak up into her room before he could catch her to talk. While her staying away for extended periods had become common place, Xander always had some lecture prepared once she returned, usually on the dangers of a young person alone on the street. She crept to their front gate, noting the absence of Xander's rusty blue car from the curb. A promising sign. She tested the front gate and found it open. A bad sign. She slipped inside, glancing around, but found it just as empty as the street. She made her way to the front door and walked inside the house. No one came rushing to meet her. She glanced toward the shoe stand by the door, noting that Xander's weathered brown shoes were missing. Either he was desperate to catch her this time or he was actually out. Either way, she stopped her creeping and made a beeline for the kitchen, calling out for her twin, "Diana? You home?"
She shifted positions, looking up at the aging sun in the sky. It would be dinner time soon. She glanced to her side where the remnants of her lunch lay, a grease-stained take-away box and half-empty juice pouch, her stomach turning when she considered a second course. Dinner at home sounded more appealing. She sat up, examining herself. Her arms had several patches of yellow skin, healing bruises from the previous night. Easy enough to hide so long as she wore her jacket in the house. She pulled out her ancient phone, turned on the camera function and looked within. Her split lip had healed, but that she'd expected. Her eyes went to the taped down bandage on her forehead, watching her fingers gingerly probed to find the edge and tore it off. Beneath she found stiches from the previous night, lacing together what now appeared to be a long scratched on her forehead. She frowned, remembering the wash of blood from last night when she'd been knocked into a post and cut on loose nail. The people from the emergency clinic had said she'd need a least a week to before the stitches could come out, perhaps even more than that. She removed the stitching, deciding the mostly healed cut looked better than walking in with a bandage on her forehead.
She dropped the remains into the pile next to her, staring at her phone. Her body had been quick to recover these past few weeks, far too quick to normal. Common sense told her it shouldn't be possible to heal from a head wound like that in a night, but she didn't know what to do about it. Telling Xander would be too awkward, or get her a one way ticket to the nearest laboratory. "Then again, maybe he'd say it's just another one of my quirks," she mused, laughing dryly, "I have a lot quirks."
She glanced at her phone screen again before clicking it off and standing up. She swept her jacket up off the ground and zipped it up with a smile. "No use worrying about it now. We need to get back before dinner."
Retrieving her trash piled, she stuffed it into her pockets and approached the edge of the building. Without a moment's hesitation, she gripped the ledge and swing down, stretching her leg to find a foothold. She began a precarious dance down the side of the ruined building, sliding from hand hold to hand hold with little more than a glance with each shift.
She came to the sixth floor, her foot finding the window sill of a spider infested office. Just a few more minutes and she'd be on the ground. She shifted weight to her foot, preparing to move her hand down, when the bricks beneath her crumbled. Her hands slipped and she plummeted down. A shot of adrenaline ran through her veins, sharpening her senses. She made a swipe at the wall but found nothing to grip. Her feet tried as well, doing little more than damaging her worn tennis shoes. She tried again with her hands, grabbing the next ledge that jutted out beneath her, stopped just above the second floor window. She swung into the ruin. The beating of her heart began to slow, stabilizing her vision. She breathed deeply to calm her shaking limbs. Her violet eyes slipped closed, finding her center to bring her mind back to the present. She tested her arms, noting a few more scratches but no serious damage. She sat down with a thud, looking out the window and laughing. "I suppose I'm more durable than I realize." Her long, dark braid had come undone, but she left ignored it. The loose hair helped to hide her cut.
After calming herself, she stood and made jumped from the window to the street, biting back a groan when her feet slapped hard against the concrete of the sidewalk. Thankfully few people came to this end of town and the inhabitance rarely came out during the day. It had been the subject of an "incident" a few years back and after deemed unlivable. Some believed that the demons lived among the ruins, but most knew the government was just too cheap to fix it. The homeless lived among the decrepit buildings now along with those who chose a life away from polite society. Nike straightened up, stretching to relieve her aching muscles. She paused, feeling her pulse increasing again. She glanced over her shoulder, frowning when she found an empty window there. "Weird," she whispered, taking a few steps away from the building. For just a second, she could have sworn something had been standing there. Watching her.
She dug in her pockets and produced a pair of wireless ear buds. She slipped them in and tapped the outer button to resume her music. With sound of traditional piano accompanied by an operatic voice there to drown out the city, she started back toward the center of town, using her usual series of back streets to navigate around the heavy traffic areas. Her route took her through the back alleys, but most days they felt safer to her than the main roads. Fewer people to offend. A down a few alleys, she swore she could feel the eyes on her back again, but nothing ever appeared behind her when she looked. All the same, she picked up her pace. When she came to a crossing point at the main street that ran through the city, she walked over to a trash bin and cleaned out her pockets. Oddly enough, the bandage was nowhere to be seen. "Must have fallen out," she muttered under her breath, turning to cross the street with the crowd that had begun to walk.
Another fifteen minutes of walking brought her to the quiet neighborhood where she lived with her sister and Xander. While not the wealthiest area, few could complain about their lot in life. The homes, mostly recently painted, were packed together in an orderly fashion, each with a small yard hidden behind a tall wooden fence. Some even boasted a two car garage. Nike slowed her pace as she approached their street, peering round the corner cautiously to be sure Xander had no one watching for her return. She preferred to arrive when he was away, and then sneak up into her room before he could catch her to talk. While her staying away for extended periods had become common place, Xander always had some lecture prepared once she returned, usually on the dangers of a young person alone on the street. She crept to their front gate, noting the absence of Xander's rusty blue car from the curb. A promising sign. She tested the front gate and found it open. A bad sign. She slipped inside, glancing around, but found it just as empty as the street. She made her way to the front door and walked inside the house. No one came rushing to meet her. She glanced toward the shoe stand by the door, noting that Xander's weathered brown shoes were missing. Either he was desperate to catch her this time or he was actually out. Either way, she stopped her creeping and made a beeline for the kitchen, calling out for her twin, "Diana? You home?"