Ark1002

For someone who's weakness in drawing is hands, and is having his first stab (badum tish) at drawing, I don't think this is half bad. Without further ado... In the future, I A.) Won't be doing hands and B.) Will start earlier then I did. I kinda forgot today.

a lot of threads do that. i call it the underworld. @Ethan_Sedai

I'm an INTP. I'm also an elsecaller, last time I checked

you really wanted those quotes, didn't you? So I have two. The first is: “Don’t try,” Waxillium said. “Logic doesn’t work on Wayne.” “I bought a ward against it off a traveling fortune-teller,” Wayne explained. “It lets me add two ’n’ two and get a pickle.” The second is: “That hat looks ridiculous.” “Fortunately, I can change hats,” Wayne said, “while you, sir, are stuck with that face.”

@Voidus

Joining as Arr. K Thousantoo, returned from the bird fiasco, stranded on Threnody.

you're not tho

that's a fair point. I think of you as somewhere in the fourteen to seventeen range, but I have no real idea

@I think I am here.

I'm feeling rather daring today... so DARE

noooooo Luna You're too young to die

Well, I suppose... I HATH BEEN MENTIONED yes I know this is late shut up

go Chmap!

[one week after the events of All Lights Quenched, 25th of Phantus] Bellatrix Deathstrike, a rejected bastard, the slime that attacked the city, awoke. All she saw was white. White everywhere she looked. A white bed, with a white frame, covered with a white blanket, with a white pillow. White walls, with a softly carpeted white floor. A white ceiling. Everything but the floor smooth, but looked like it could squish. Everything fused to the ground except the pillows and the blanket. No back of the bed except the wall. And it dawned to her. This was a psych ward. She screamed, but nobody came. Nobody cared. ~-~-~-~-~ [three weeks later, 16th of Stinatus] Bella rocked back in forth in the chair. They had come after two hours of her screaming, brought food. They had kept her alive, against a will. She raised her hands, examining them. They had no nails. She'd lost that privilege after the first attempt. She looked at the bed. The blanket was connected to the edges, like a sleeping bag. She'd lost that privilege after the second attempt. She looked down. She wore no clothes. She'd lost that privilege after the third attempt. Bella was good now. Bella would behave, be the nice little girl. Or so they thought. For they did not know something she had discovered three days ago. Her full power. It had been greatly diminished, true, and her fire wouldn't even work for most of a month. But that wasn't it, what she was doing. She had tried hard to learn the names of her captors. Or, as they called themselves, phycologists. She grinned tightly at the woman spooning her food. One more day. ~-~-~-~-~ [one day later, 17th of Stinatus] Bella stood there, over the corpse of the phycologist who had fed her for these weeks. Blood dripped from the woman's neck. A fork stuck from it. Bellatrix kneeled, sliding her eyelids shut. The woman had been kind, in her own way. She grabbed the keys, and tried to open the door. It didn't work. Then she saw the small card the woman had on her chest. It must scan for that. She grabbed it, putting it on, and went through the door. Into the outside world. And that was when she got shot in the chest. ~-~-~-~-~ [one week later] Bellatrix sobbed quitely. She had been doing so off and on for the three days since she awoke. She had killed the poor woman, the one who protected her. Because the city hated her. This psych ward was the only one in the city that would take her. There was a constant riot outside. And they protected her. She sobbed. This time, she would be their good girl. For real. ~-~-~-~-~ [three months into the timeskip, 19th of Kepery] "Freedom." The word felt odd in her mouth. She hadn't talked in three months, but that wasn't the only reason. The concept was odd as well. She had lived in that little box of a room for three months. Her lips cracked as she licked them, stepping out of the ward, wearing the white robes they had provided. She rather liked them. They gave her a bit of familiarity, with the white color. So much color was... overwhelming. She hugged her arms to herself, walking out into the street. They had forgotten about her. And her highlights had faded to the point she must look freakish. White clothes, white hair, very pale skin. The only color on her the Bloodflame tattoo and her violet eyes. She looked at the tattoo, and closed her eyes, trying to wall of the sudden tears. She was trying to heal. That's what the phycologists said she had to do. So she would. She walked down the street, and saw an ad. Help repair buildings lost in the Invasion! Get money! Get friends! Get the satisfaction of helping! She tore down the poster, and began heading for the location it stated. ~-~-~-~-~ [five months into the timeskip, 19th of Diagrama] Bellatrix stood in the clothing shops, watching the man as he measured her every diameter. He would make robes, like the white ones. But these ones would have some new features. Pockets for guns, knives, poisons. It would turn black with the press of a button, her personal favorite trick. And a hood could slide up from the inside, covering her face. It also had two places cut down the back, because she had discovered what those tattoos did. They gave her wings. Wings of black fire. She grinned a small amount. It was time to give back to the city. Time to kill those who continued to wrong the city, despite what it had suffered. She would become a killer, for them. For good. ~-~-~-~-~ [one week later, 26th of Diagrama] Bellatrix dropped from the ceiling. She landed in the middle of the room, a small circle of dust flying up around her. She raised her knives, slashing the throats of the two suprised men beside her. She dropped, stuck out her leg, hitting the three other men nearby, and bringing them to the ground. She impaled two of them through the eyes with her knives, and left them there, running forward to a location in the room where another of the four remaining men stood. This was the last real threat. She grabbed him by the neck, and fire blasted from her hands, burning his face and head terribly. He might survive, but he would likely have brain trauma, and he would never see or hear again. On top of that, his sense of smell would also be terribly damaged. He deserved it. She smirked darkly, pulling out her two short swords, and stabbed the man running at her in the chest. She used him as a shield to block the gunshots at her, and threw the other, hitting the hand of the man she had knocked down, impaling it to the floor. He screamed loudly, and she basked in the sound of a criminal's pain. Pulled the sword out of the mans chest, running forward and stabbing the man who had shot at her. Then she let him drop, sword still in his chest. She turned to the last man, and walked up to him, thrusting her chest forward, moving her hips seductively. She walked up to the terrified man, face pale, and wrapped her leg around his, pulling him close, bringing her face close to his. "Goodbye." Black wings, made of tendrils of fire, burst from her back, wrapping around him. He cried out, and she snapped his neck, letting him fall. She grinned at the man on the ground, with the sword in his hand. "Tell them what you saw." She ripped the sword out of his hand, leaving the other weapons, and flew out into the night. ~-~-~-~-~ [Three days before the end of the timeskip, 15th of Witrosa] Bellatrix cleaned her blade, pulling out a bottle of Rosharan violet. The weakest alcohol she drank these days. She tipped it back, quickly draining it, and wiped her mouth. She threw the blade at the wall, where it joined the other seven identical blades imbedded there. Each time she broke up a syndicate, a drug lord meeting, a gang, she would leave one witness, and all of the blades but one. That blade she would throw there, to mark the attack. Eight. She had done much for the city. They called her The Dark Angel, and one picture of her had even been released, and was circling. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. She pulled out a bottle of horneater white, and took a swig. The strong stuff. She fell with a thump. Good deeds do not make up for bad ones.

I mean, I'm biased, but I have to say the footnotes sold it for me

Crow sighed, extremely loudly. This was not helping her with the Acute's