tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63758364257994764262024-03-13T09:26:59.536-07:00Mars RisingTrish (Acid)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05157822101535941627noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375836425799476426.post-86413393343145962082014-01-07T08:01:00.003-08:002014-01-07T08:01:42.345-08:00A New Home<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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... I can be found at my new blog</div>
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<a href="http://acids-corner.blogspot.com/">Acid's Sims 3 Corner</a></div>
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Trish (Acid)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05157822101535941627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375836425799476426.post-8856717856205191702013-07-16T04:39:00.000-07:002013-07-16T04:39:08.846-07:00Announcement<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic;">Mars Rising</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px;"> has been cancelled. To be honest, I just lost interest. The plot wasn't really working out and I lost some of my sims and lots when I had to reinstall my games. *uber sigh*</span><br />
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So for now, I'm working on getting my main blog up and running. And maybe a new story that will kind of smoosh 'Is That Blood?' and 'Mars Rising' together. </div>
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<a href="http://acids-corner.blogspot.com/">Main Blog</a></div>
Trish (Acid)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05157822101535941627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375836425799476426.post-62828871623827954322012-11-16T05:01:00.000-08:002012-11-16T05:01:09.008-08:00Insert Witty Title Here<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Hello everyone</b></div>
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So I may be talking to the walls right now; most of you may have left given that I haven't posted since June (or is it May?). I just want to apologise for my centuries-long absence. Several things have happened over the last few months so let's cue the highlight reel<br />
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<b>America: Land of the Free and Home of the Brave</b><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking through NYC... I think this is Times Square during the day</td></tr>
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I was very fortunate enough to be invited to the International Scholar Laureate Programme which took place in June. I got to see Washington and New York (I could definitely see myself living there one day); and little bit of Philadelphia. Needless to say, no laptop and no Sims but the experience was amazing!! and I met so many interesting people.<br />
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<b>My Laptop Hates Me</b><br />
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Or maybe I just hate my laptop... I've been experiencing some difficulties playing Sims 3; the game crashes after like five minutes. I've tried everything and have decided to put it to rest... Well not really. My system no longer meets the minimum requirements to run the game so I'm currently in the market for a new laptop. A desktop isn't an option because of space constraints. I'm hoping to get my new laptop by the end of this month and hopefully have things up and running again by the first week of December.<br />
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<b>I Got Married... To My Books</b><br />
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It's been a rough semester these last few months. Mostly because I've been trying to work my butt off to make the cut-off for our Honours class. And everything that could go wrong did. Cue the tears and sadness... Ok, don't because I'm just being a little dramatic! I've now divorced my books and can't wait to get back to writing and simming and reading all of your wonderful stories (PS: If you have a story and I haven't read it, drop me a line with a link) </div>
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<b>So... What Does This Mean?</b><br />
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Firstly, <i>Mars Rising </i>isn't going anywhere. I really want to continue with this story but it may be a while before I get it going again. With my many attempts to get the game working again I seem to have lost some neighbourhoods, the MR one included. I don't mind. I actually want to start afresh in case I may have had any corrupt CC - I don't want to carry those over to the new game. So once I've got everything set up, I plan to relaunch MR - so the faces may be different and some earlier chapters may be rewritten but the plot will still be the same.<br />
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And secondly, if you're still here reading this: Thank You :) And I hope that you will stick around for what's to come<br />
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<b>Happy Simming,</b><br />
<b>T</b>Trish (Acid)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05157822101535941627noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375836425799476426.post-29512014797092415262012-06-10T11:22:00.000-07:002012-06-10T11:22:11.713-07:00We're back...Hey everyone<br />
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I apologise for having not posted anything in months. Real life just got the better of me.<br />
So Mars Rising will be back. Soon!<br />
I'm off to the USA next week so once I get back I'll be posting some new chapters.<br />
Thanks to everyone who has given this little story a chance :)<br />
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TTrish (Acid)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05157822101535941627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375836425799476426.post-16952764055200364742012-02-22T12:30:00.000-08:002012-02-22T12:30:54.423-08:006. Frustration<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12px; text-align: left;">Hey Everyone</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12px; text-align: left;" /><br style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12px; text-align: left;">So I apologize for not updating in weeks. RL really caught up with me since I got back to Uni. So, with having to balance my RL with my writing I'm going to try to get two posts out a week; more if I can squeeze in extra posts. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12px; text-align: left;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12px; text-align: left;">Once again, thank you to everyone who reads Mars Rising :)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12px; text-align: left;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12px; text-align: left;">xx</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 12px; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Bridgeport, Present Day</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EWxvraIIupc/T0U-VpBiW7I/AAAAAAAAA0A/5jj4vT9Kkhs/s1600/Screenshot-569.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EWxvraIIupc/T0U-VpBiW7I/AAAAAAAAA0A/5jj4vT9Kkhs/s640/Screenshot-569.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">“What the hell?” Kat threw her hands up in frustration before flinging her textbook across the desk. For the past hour all that had sunk in was something about a globalisation paradox that today’s nations were struggling with. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">“Whatever.” She had had enough of globalisation for one night.</div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Urf98fmUhGk/T0U-ecUsl6I/AAAAAAAAA0I/kGZwhbuPceI/s1600/Screenshot-571.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Urf98fmUhGk/T0U-ecUsl6I/AAAAAAAAA0I/kGZwhbuPceI/s640/Screenshot-571.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">She let out a long, exasperated sigh. Three months of vacation had rotted her brain making studying a chore she would have to get back into. She glanced at the alarm clock on her desk. 2 am. She could have been asleep two hours ago but her inability to retain the information kept nagging at her. She took a sip of her coffee – it was cold. No surprise there as she had made it two hours ago.</div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EIYhLWeDrZ0/T0U-pbjEQqI/AAAAAAAAA0Q/F_dnHAqvwKg/s1600/Screenshot-578.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EIYhLWeDrZ0/T0U-pbjEQqI/AAAAAAAAA0Q/F_dnHAqvwKg/s640/Screenshot-578.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><span style="line-height: 150%;">Resigning herself to the reality that she wasn’t going to get anymore work done, Kat slipped into bed to get what little sleep she could before waking up for her 7:45 lecture. Arianne’s diary stared back at her from across the sofa. She hadn’t bothered to read it since that first time, getting caught up in the debacle that was registration and readjusting to early mornings. Kat, curious once again, tip-toed over to the couch; she didn’t want to disturb </span>Jazzy's<span style="line-height: 150%;"> sleep. </span></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qK7FrrfE7B4/T0U-04kTU_I/AAAAAAAAA0Y/TQ2GuHGrepE/s1600/Screenshot-579.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qK7FrrfE7B4/T0U-04kTU_I/AAAAAAAAA0Y/TQ2GuHGrepE/s640/Screenshot-579.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">She picked it up and flipped the pages – she wasn’t really interested about Arianne’s ramblings about her daily routine – she seemed too perky and excitable for Kat’s liking. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">She stopped when the words ‘Mortensen brothers’ popped out in one of the entries.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><i>2 February, 1805<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><i>Dear Diary, <o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><i>It has been a week since the Mortensen brothers arrived at our front door. Sissy and I have not seen them since. Cook has told us that the only time they venture out of their quarters is when it is time to accompany Father to his rooms. I must say that I am deeply disappointed. I heard that Mars is well travelled and I would have liked to discuss his adventures. Perhaps tonight will be the night. But first I must be over with my lessons. I hear Madam Bell’s carriage drawing closer and she will not tolerate any tardiness. <o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br />
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</o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b>Riverview, 1805<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b>Arianne’s Diary<o:p></o:p></b></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PfAt0fuZPWQ/T0U8ueiLWvI/AAAAAAAAAy4/RFGiWmPrYFM/s1600/Screenshot-547.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PfAt0fuZPWQ/T0U8ueiLWvI/AAAAAAAAAy4/RFGiWmPrYFM/s640/Screenshot-547.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“Ileana, be a love and take this to our guests’ quarters.” Hettie laid down a platter of her famous cinnamon buns. Her young aide flinched at having to visit the guest quarters again. She had been making excuses over the past week, forcing Hettie to make the deliveries herself. There was no telling how much longer she could go on like this; her arsenal of excuses was running out. </div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CMyH1jxplUI/T0U83MLjOyI/AAAAAAAAAzA/IKtCq4y_-BU/s1600/Screenshot-548.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CMyH1jxplUI/T0U83MLjOyI/AAAAAAAAAzA/IKtCq4y_-BU/s640/Screenshot-548.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“There’s no need. We’re leaving right away. A young woman has fallen ill over the night and I need to tend to her immediately.” </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">Ileana sighed in relief; the doctor had saved her, just in time, from another episode of being ogled. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“Prepare a spread, Hettie. We will be expecting guests for dinner.” Charles tipped his hat and left the two women to decide on a menu. </div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-abAnNGwtJEo/T0U9D7GvUaI/AAAAAAAAAzI/wmYPgOsI0Bo/s1600/Screenshot-551.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-abAnNGwtJEo/T0U9D7GvUaI/AAAAAAAAAzI/wmYPgOsI0Bo/s640/Screenshot-551.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <span style="line-height: 150%;">Madam Bell paced the great room, her ears pricked as she listened intently for any mistakes in Arianne’s playing. She nodded when Arianne played beautifully but would not hesitate to rap her on the knuckles with the cane if she missed a note. She was a strict old woman and the girls did not fancy her too much. However, Charles had insisted that she was the best governess and so they had to put up with her sharp tongue and militant methods of teaching.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GSzg57Z7k90/T0U9Qr0riSI/AAAAAAAAAzQ/NzTGxfrtbmg/s1600/Screenshot-554.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GSzg57Z7k90/T0U9Qr0riSI/AAAAAAAAAzQ/NzTGxfrtbmg/s640/Screenshot-554.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“Amelia, continue from where Arianne has stopped.” She gave the cue for the sisters to exchange places – it was now Arianne’s turn to practice her painting. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“Yes mum.” Amelia rushed to take her place at the piano; any unnecessary delay or a start at the incorrect verse would prompt a sound verbal lashing from Victoria Bell. </div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wkyQdzKQoOo/T0U9buJG3PI/AAAAAAAAAzY/8xG4xhxStfE/s1600/Screenshot-555.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wkyQdzKQoOo/T0U9buJG3PI/AAAAAAAAAzY/8xG4xhxStfE/s640/Screenshot-555.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <span style="line-height: 150%;">“Gracefully.” The old woman barked. She always took the opportunity to remind them that young ladies from well-to-do homes, like theirs, never rushed anything – poise and decorum must always be at the forefront of any action.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d5DhAuxwk-s/T0U9o3a5wmI/AAAAAAAAAzg/PDSkQhcch5A/s1600/Screenshot-557.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d5DhAuxwk-s/T0U9o3a5wmI/AAAAAAAAAzg/PDSkQhcch5A/s640/Screenshot-557.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OavB0DOz4J4/T0U91luME4I/AAAAAAAAAzo/4BhccX0qwOA/s1600/Screenshot-558.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OavB0DOz4J4/T0U91luME4I/AAAAAAAAAzo/4BhccX0qwOA/s640/Screenshot-558.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <span style="line-height: 150%;">For the rest of the day, until tea time when Madam Bell would finally retreat to her own home, the girls were to alternate between the two arts.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“Tomorrow we shall continue with your readings and penmanship.” </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">Arianne passed her sister an exasperated look: their holiday was definitely over. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a0s9i2oapy0/T0U9-dRKvGI/AAAAAAAAAzw/KpUYlTNzarw/s1600/Screenshot-560.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a0s9i2oapy0/T0U9-dRKvGI/AAAAAAAAAzw/KpUYlTNzarw/s640/Screenshot-560.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">_____</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y6-PE08Jv0Q/T0U_Lie8kuI/AAAAAAAAA0o/O3DNrv7K_ic/s1600/Screenshot-587.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y6-PE08Jv0Q/T0U_Lie8kuI/AAAAAAAAA0o/O3DNrv7K_ic/s640/Screenshot-587.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <span style="line-height: 150%;">“Please, Doctor, do come in.” The woman stood aside to let Charles and the Mortensens in.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“I don’t know what is wrong with her. She’s been screaming and sweating the entire night.” The woman had a rough lower-class accent; her nails were stained with dirt and hard labour. From the bottom of the landing they could hear the pained grunts and incoherent ramblings. Charles made his way to her daughter’s bedroom, ordering the mother to bring hot water and a towel.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fACUBslEGMA/T0U_V-YCBsI/AAAAAAAAA0w/Bg-wtIq4U_w/s1600/Screenshot-591.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fACUBslEGMA/T0U_V-YCBsI/AAAAAAAAA0w/Bg-wtIq4U_w/s640/Screenshot-591.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <span style="line-height: 150%;">They found the young girl dripping in cold sweat, her cheeks stained scarlet from the fever. Dr. Livingston lifted her sleeves to find a spotted rash creeping its way up her arms. He felt her abdomen; it was hard and bloated. “I suspect organ inflammation. The fever is unusually high and I have never seen a more terrible rash.”</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">He heard her mother gasp in horror, fearing that the doctor would not be able to cure her only child. Mars approached the bed, examining her closely. The girl spluttered, spittle running down her chin as incoherent ramblings escaped from her mouth. Nikolai watched from a distance, taking mental notes.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-db8XrL33Nfw/T0U_3azPF2I/AAAAAAAAA1A/8_bxQzELTdc/s1600/Screenshot-600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-db8XrL33Nfw/T0U_3azPF2I/AAAAAAAAA1A/8_bxQzELTdc/s640/Screenshot-600.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">“I believe she has become delirious.” Mars tilted his head in fascination, unfazed by the girl’s behaviour. He moved closer, placing his cool hands over her forehead and whispered something into her ear. The others watched as she suddenly calmed down and her breathing, though still shallow, became more regular. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">“Well, Charles, what do you think it is?” Mars bared his pearly whites, satisfied that he had impressed his new mentor. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">“It is a fever, I can assure you. I will have to speak to the mother to determine a cause and the exact ailment.” </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">In the hall, Charles took the mother aside and instructed her on how to administer the medication. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">“Do not even think about it.” Nikolai warned his brother, knowing all too well that he would be back to put the girl out of her misery.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">“I do not know of what you speak, brother.” Mars batted his eyelids and cast a gaze over to Charles and the mother, in time to catch the end of the conversation.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">“Give me a call in the morning if her condition does not take a turn for the better.”</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QXHcqokAIHc/T0U_eJaACWI/AAAAAAAAA04/ypJ2w8VLFcE/s1600/Screenshot-594.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QXHcqokAIHc/T0U_eJaACWI/AAAAAAAAA04/ypJ2w8VLFcE/s640/Screenshot-594.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">The woman thanked them and shut her door. The brothers heard her slump down on the other side and break into silent sobs.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I9RPjMem3d8/T0U-_m7YuVI/AAAAAAAAA0g/V3qxloCW9FE/s1600/Screenshot-581.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I9RPjMem3d8/T0U-_m7YuVI/AAAAAAAAA0g/V3qxloCW9FE/s640/Screenshot-581.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“I am afraid she will not see it through the night.” Mars tried to veil his excitement at having his first victim with remorse. Charles bought it as he clicked his tongue sympathetically and nodded in agreement.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b>Livingston Manor</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zY4vLUUQINA/T0U-J0mjLqI/AAAAAAAAAz4/8YQOMiq7YO0/s1600/Screenshot-561.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zY4vLUUQINA/T0U-J0mjLqI/AAAAAAAAAz4/8YQOMiq7YO0/s640/Screenshot-561.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"> <i style="line-height: 150%;">Father and our guests have been discussing their latest patient for quite some time now. It seems a rather peculiar case. I fear I shall have to wait until evening to talk to Mars. In the meantime I shall see to my dress and hair for this evening. Lord and Lady Sharpe will be visiting; their son Thomas, and my childhood friend, has returned from his service and Father sees it fit that he should be welcomed back with one of Cook’s glorious feasts.</i></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br />
</div>Trish (Acid)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05157822101535941627noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375836425799476426.post-51034477291395562252012-02-02T02:51:00.000-08:002012-02-02T02:51:02.139-08:005. Awkward Spaces<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b>Bridgeport, Present Day<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><br />
</b></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r9zkglzYPGM/TypcIqw3OUI/AAAAAAAAAwg/qLwpBHPd33c/s1600/Screenshot-494.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r9zkglzYPGM/TypcIqw3OUI/AAAAAAAAAwg/qLwpBHPd33c/s640/Screenshot-494.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <span style="line-height: 150%;">The campus teemed with students – both new and returning. The first day of lectures always set the place abuzz. Frantic first years were trying to make it to every lecture on time and returning students, binging on smuggled booze, were gossiping in the gardens.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7EBnWqKK54I/TypcUvj1pqI/AAAAAAAAAwo/FOqC3OgRBPA/s1600/Screenshot-495.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7EBnWqKK54I/TypcUvj1pqI/AAAAAAAAAwo/FOqC3OgRBPA/s640/Screenshot-495.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <span style="line-height: 150%;">Amy straightened her skirt for the umpteenth time. The grey floors and stone walls of the waiting area mimicked the feeling of foreboding that came with meeting the Dean for anything other than a chat over tea.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Gxbi-2Xr6GQ/Typcd2jzIEI/AAAAAAAAAww/b7pwNZDEXB0/s1600/Screenshot-497.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Gxbi-2Xr6GQ/Typcd2jzIEI/AAAAAAAAAww/b7pwNZDEXB0/s640/Screenshot-497.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <span style="line-height: 150%;">She cradled her head in her hands thinking of the encounter she had just moments before.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FJiNA4uEX1E/TypeHaLKv9I/AAAAAAAAAxw/wcaY_VfgAL8/s1600/Screenshot-523.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FJiNA4uEX1E/TypeHaLKv9I/AAAAAAAAAxw/wcaY_VfgAL8/s640/Screenshot-523.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <span style="line-height: 150%;">“Excuse me.” She gently tapped the girl on her shoulder. When she turned around, Amy stared at her for as long a time as possible before it became rude and a little disturbing.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0SEgYIwa0ig/TypeR6URisI/AAAAAAAAAx4/C1zelYioGsE/s1600/Screenshot-525.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0SEgYIwa0ig/TypeR6URisI/AAAAAAAAAx4/C1zelYioGsE/s640/Screenshot-525.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3c6odi6f64/Typei3vGemI/AAAAAAAAAyA/xHYIKftZ1_0/s1600/Screenshot-528.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J3c6odi6f64/Typei3vGemI/AAAAAAAAAyA/xHYIKftZ1_0/s640/Screenshot-528.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"> <span style="line-height: 24px;">Her lips had formed Arianne’s name but no sound travelled out to accompany it and so it just lingered there awkwardly. “I’m sorry; I thought-” Like Arianne’s name, the rest of the sentence remained incomplete; suspended in mid-air between Kat and Amy.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 24px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">“I’m looking for the Dean’s office.” She finally managed to come out with it. “Dean of Finance and Economics.”</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qwQUXTdEY08/TypeuvoWavI/AAAAAAAAAyI/DnZNtcwy0pY/s1600/Screenshot-530.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qwQUXTdEY08/TypeuvoWavI/AAAAAAAAAyI/DnZNtcwy0pY/s640/Screenshot-530.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DbduHYiqQLU/Typdd7vks5I/AAAAAAAAAxg/72WYPuCqkqw/s1600/Screenshot-510.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DbduHYiqQLU/Typdd7vks5I/AAAAAAAAAxg/72WYPuCqkqw/s640/Screenshot-510.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">Now, as she sat in Block A outside room A012, Amy couldn’t shake the feeling that was twisting around in the pit of her stomach.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"> <span style="line-height: 150%;">The girl had the same sparkling green eyes that slanted upward to give her that dreamy look; her hair was the same shade of auburn with soft curls that hung loosely over her shoulders; and there was no mistaking the high set cheek bones that always made Amy slightly jealous of her sister. She even had the straight, thin Livingston nose. The only significant difference that Amy could point out was the girl’s face shape: it was rounder, fuller than Arianne’s long heart-shaped face that ended perfectly in a dainty chin. If it wasn’t for that, the girl would be a dead ringer for her sister.</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QAeStzDip1I/TypcqIkg3HI/AAAAAAAAAw4/IYsTF3re6H0/s1600/Screenshot-499.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QAeStzDip1I/TypcqIkg3HI/AAAAAAAAAw4/IYsTF3re6H0/s640/Screenshot-499.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">She sighed heavily and shrugged it off. She knew that the girl was definitely not Arianne. Arianne was dead. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“The dean will see you now.”</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KbLLGlWC5tc/Type6g6u-aI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/Q95MUz2Ww6Q/s1600/Screenshot-536.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KbLLGlWC5tc/Type6g6u-aI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/Q95MUz2Ww6Q/s640/Screenshot-536.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <span style="line-height: 150%;">Kat took a long sip of her soda. The cool liquid ran down her throat, chilling her insides and giving her a moment’s relief from the heat. Summer was still persisting; and rather vehemently. Occasionally a slight breeze would waft in through the open windows, but it was as warm and stuffy as the cafeteria. She shifted in her seat, feeling the eyes of the cafe regulars on her; reminding her that this wasn’t her place on campus. The hive of activity and abundance of slackers made her feel uneasy; it was the primary reason she detested the place. She didn’t know why she had chosen it as a meeting spot.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xdpndTcny4E/TypfKIMj7fI/AAAAAAAAAyY/OrUjojGu7Xg/s1600/Screenshot-541.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xdpndTcny4E/TypfKIMj7fI/AAAAAAAAAyY/OrUjojGu7Xg/s640/Screenshot-541.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <span style="line-height: 150%;">She was about to send a text that she’d be elsewhere, when Loryn slipped into the chair opposite her.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“You should have come.” She tossed a knowing look straight at her best friend before helping herself to some of Kat’s soda. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_yULgTSJVLE/TypfVBZvdMI/AAAAAAAAAyg/QRUPA2aioFM/s1600/Screenshot-543.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_yULgTSJVLE/TypfVBZvdMI/AAAAAAAAAyg/QRUPA2aioFM/s640/Screenshot-543.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <span style="line-height: 150%;">“Maybe next weekend.” A meek smile formed on Kat’s face as the white lie tumbled out before she could stop it. She was all for a good party as long as the venue wasn’t infested with other students who couldn’t hold their alcohol. But it was becoming increasingly rare as more high school graduates left their sleepy little towns to attend university in the big city filled with all sorts of vices.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“So what did you end up doing then?” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zJRa34Wzruw/TypfgAztwVI/AAAAAAAAAyo/LSaCXeqIjsY/s1600/Screenshot-545.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zJRa34Wzruw/TypfgAztwVI/AAAAAAAAAyo/LSaCXeqIjsY/s640/Screenshot-545.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“Thought about a movie but I just ended up sleeping.” She shrugged, avoiding Lor’s gaze. Before the sermon about being young and enjoying the parties while their bodies could still keep up, Kat started to explain the appearance of Arianne’s diary among the books. Unlike Amy, she had forgotten about their little encounter a few minutes ago. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“It’s 10:20.” Lor cut in.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“Oh right. Let’s go.”</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br />
“Wait, you were going to tell me something?” Lor reminded her but it wasn’t important. It was just an old diary she had come across. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary; in her eyes at least.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“C’mon or we’ll miss the chance to tell Kotler our favourite sex position and choice of drug.” The two giggled as they gathered their books and bags before heading to their first lecture of the semester with the impious Professor Kotler.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QGBC_OgkzCw/TypcydiaX8I/AAAAAAAAAxA/Q0GqbywtRWc/s1600/Screenshot-504.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QGBC_OgkzCw/TypcydiaX8I/AAAAAAAAAxA/Q0GqbywtRWc/s640/Screenshot-504.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <span style="line-height: 150%;">“You understand that your application is late?” Dr. Reid’s eyes travelled down the bridge of her nose and fell onto the student in front of her.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“I understand but given the circumstances that I was in-” Amy had concocted many stories to serve as an explanation for wanting to pick up her studies in Bridgeport. She had finally settled on one about her mother who had fallen ill in the middle of her third year. “So I had to leave to take care of her.” She watched the dean nod solemnly before continuing. “I didn’t want to pick up mid-year; I don’t mind starting over, in fact.”</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“Why Bridgeport?” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5cwxJw4xDCE/TypdGE-ZDDI/AAAAAAAAAxQ/doC1UVcdSkw/s1600/Screenshot-506.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5cwxJw4xDCE/TypdGE-ZDDI/AAAAAAAAAxQ/doC1UVcdSkw/s640/Screenshot-506.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <span style="line-height: 150%;">“I couldn’t stay in Sunset Valley anymore. The memories...” Her voice trailed off. It would have been easier for her to just compel the dean into accepting her application but she hated the very thing. It was manipulative and dangerous; especially if the compulsion didn’t go as planned. Nick had yet to find out if the city folk were on vervain – an herb that allowed humans to resist compulsion. In their travels they had learned that founding councils of small towns knew more about vampires than they had let on so they had to be as careful, if not more, in the bigger cities.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yBDr2c1TXkw/TypdSJCAOEI/AAAAAAAAAxY/IPkYDh0_L4o/s1600/Screenshot-509.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yBDr2c1TXkw/TypdSJCAOEI/AAAAAAAAAxY/IPkYDh0_L4o/s640/Screenshot-509.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“I assure you, Dr. Reid, that I will be a great asset. I am aware that the university, the faculty of commerce in particular, prides itself on academic excellence. The proof is in my records.” Fortunately she didn’t have to alter the dates on her academic record; it had only been two years since they left Sunset Valley. Things had started getting risky as new vampires had found their way into the suburb and began attacking joggers and other locals who dared to stay out past 11pm – a curfew that had been set after the first attack. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jJqpMvzcdNg/Typc9Q01oII/AAAAAAAAAxI/eXIWDb2ZcRE/s1600/Screenshot-505.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jJqpMvzcdNg/Typc9Q01oII/AAAAAAAAAxI/eXIWDb2ZcRE/s640/Screenshot-505.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"> <span style="line-height: 150%;">A feeling of accomplishment washed over her as Dr. Reid’s lips curled into a smile. “You may start attending lectures.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“Thank you so much.” She shook the dean’s hand and swiftly made her exit. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BxQQu-Cjoak/Typl40-eG4I/AAAAAAAAAyw/0ukJgFUepZI/s1600/Screenshot-519.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BxQQu-Cjoak/Typl40-eG4I/AAAAAAAAAyw/0ukJgFUepZI/s640/Screenshot-519.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">As she stepped out of the administration block and into the blistering heat, she caught a glimpse of the girl. She was heading toward the lecture block. Amy paused for a moment; the crazy idea to follow the girl had just struck her. In the end, she decided against it.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pZfXzhTbOhA/TypdvMXCc8I/AAAAAAAAAxo/Na9_-HUuuDk/s1600/Screenshot-522.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pZfXzhTbOhA/TypdvMXCc8I/AAAAAAAAAxo/Na9_-HUuuDk/s640/Screenshot-522.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"> The campus was small and there’d be more opportunities to run into her – away from the fluorescent lights. ‘<i>Yep, that’s it. It was the lighting</i>.’ </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">________</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-weight: bold; line-height: 150%;">Credit: </span>The university was built by <a href="http://www.thesimsresource.com/members/artemis80/">artemis80</a></div>Trish (Acid)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05157822101535941627noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375836425799476426.post-55994875895759500912012-01-29T11:49:00.000-08:002012-01-29T11:49:15.134-08:004. Bitter<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>Warning:</b></span> Mild adult content and Mars' bad hair day </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">________</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Bridgeport, Same Day</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-o-lPPQc9YKs/TyWc-iEpGJI/AAAAAAAAAvI/aea8wMeW5y4/s1600/Screenshot-421.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-o-lPPQc9YKs/TyWc-iEpGJI/AAAAAAAAAvI/aea8wMeW5y4/s640/Screenshot-421.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"> Kat had fallen asleep with the old diary still in her hand. That night she dreamt of the mysterious Mars Mortensen – what he might look like; putting herself in Arianne’s shoes and feeling the same fascination she had felt upon meeting him.<span style="line-height: 150%;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ABVPPzLb9vc/TyWcsPfY73I/AAAAAAAAAu4/vngm-xd905A/s640/Screenshot-408.jpg" width="640" /></div>On the other side of the city Nick lay in bed, listening to Amy’s light snoring. The launch had gone off well but they hadn’t had much time alone. It was exactly two hundred years since they had met; he was sure she had forgotten in all the commotion to get Hemisphere up and running in time. He wondered, for a moment, what his life would be like if he had convinced his brother not to undertake an internship with Dr. Livingston. He wouldn’t have met Amy; she wouldn’t be a vampire; she would have had a full life, grown old and had children like she had always dreamed of. If ever she blamed him for this kind of life, she never let on. He closed his eyes and recalled the day he arrived in Riverview.<div><br />
</div><div><b><i>Riverview, 1805</i></b></div><div><b><i>Nick's Recollection</i></b></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lRLPFP0IGjQ/TyWdI82OABI/AAAAAAAAAvQ/dEkb4mHt6eI/s1600/Screenshot-469.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lRLPFP0IGjQ/TyWdI82OABI/AAAAAAAAAvQ/dEkb4mHt6eI/s640/Screenshot-469.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">Ileana gave a soft rap on the door before entering. She set the tray of tea down on the coffee table and began arranging the cups and saucers.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bNmKyYsFSVU/TyWdPzPlykI/AAAAAAAAAvY/x9IhAxu7nMo/s1600/Screenshot-470.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bNmKyYsFSVU/TyWdPzPlykI/AAAAAAAAAvY/x9IhAxu7nMo/s640/Screenshot-470.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <span style="line-height: 150%;">Her breasts just peaked over the top of her blouse; a faint golden glow fell over her bosom as the fire cast its shadows around the room. Her chest heaved in rhythm with her quickened breathing as she felt his eyes rove hungrily over her. He judged them to be tender, juicy and untouched by any other man. Closing his eyes, he let out a low growl as he imagined sinking his teeth into her, her soft skin punctured in just the right way so as not to spill the blood.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s1fd6R4Hg58/TyWdd4S62nI/AAAAAAAAAvg/KSTZoI9vvOY/s1600/Screenshot-471.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s1fd6R4Hg58/TyWdd4S62nI/AAAAAAAAAvg/KSTZoI9vvOY/s640/Screenshot-471.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <span style="line-height: 150%;">He felt her body stiffen; her hands trembled as she tried so desperately not to drop the Master’s finest china. He reclined, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V5pATcb0-0Q/TyWdrBes1aI/AAAAAAAAAvo/5JkYGeUxNcc/s1600/Screenshot-473.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V5pATcb0-0Q/TyWdrBes1aI/AAAAAAAAAvo/5JkYGeUxNcc/s640/Screenshot-473.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <span style="line-height: 150%;">“Thank you. You may go.” Nikolai’s voice travelled from the other end of the room, relieving the young woman of further humiliation.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">Mars, dejected, watched her leave their quarters in silence and haste: anger and embarrassment burning furiously on her cheeks. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iry8X6NLM58/TyWeE_-T0dI/AAAAAAAAAv4/StFCNbQagUg/s1600/Screenshot-480.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iry8X6NLM58/TyWeE_-T0dI/AAAAAAAAAv4/StFCNbQagUg/s640/Screenshot-480.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“She doesn’t seem too taken with me.” Mars laughed, disguising his mild disappointment. Women generally fell under his spell quite quickly, but Ileana seemed aware of his little game. He guessed that the only reason she held back on giving him a piece of her mind was because in this house he was the guest and she was the servant. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yFR1Fi1J3E4/TyWd2O32ALI/AAAAAAAAAvw/oMFLSrPEHIk/s1600/Screenshot-475.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yFR1Fi1J3E4/TyWd2O32ALI/AAAAAAAAAvw/oMFLSrPEHIk/s640/Screenshot-475.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <span style="line-height: 150%;">“Perhaps she doesn’t fancy redheads.” Nikolai remarked dryly as he inspected one of the many paintings that hung on the wall.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“You make me laugh.” Mars stood up; a hollow laugh escaped from between his lips. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yvM7SbK_EgU/TyWeZwVcIEI/AAAAAAAAAwI/Tnq3_CZzbaw/s1600/Screenshot-488.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yvM7SbK_EgU/TyWeZwVcIEI/AAAAAAAAAwI/Tnq3_CZzbaw/s640/Screenshot-488.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“What is the matter? I sense that you are not happy here.” His fingers worked deep into the tissues, hitting the pressure spots right on.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6GY1XxE9hFU/TyWePipBghI/AAAAAAAAAwA/i_JvRmVhu3E/s1600/Screenshot-486.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6GY1XxE9hFU/TyWePipBghI/AAAAAAAAAwA/i_JvRmVhu3E/s640/Screenshot-486.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <span style="line-height: 150%;">Nikolai shrugged his brother off. “I have expressed my concerns over this idea of yours. How many more doctors will you compel?”</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“It is not as if I compelled<i> you</i> to accompany me.” </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“Someone has to clean up after you.” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zrUXbyfx_oE/TyWelQRLAMI/AAAAAAAAAwQ/boMVCrFtuuY/s1600/Screenshot-490.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zrUXbyfx_oE/TyWelQRLAMI/AAAAAAAAAwQ/boMVCrFtuuY/s640/Screenshot-490.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <span style="line-height: 150%;">“I am only taking a leaf out of your book, Nikolai.” He paused, more for dramatic effect than to seek to convince his brother that this was a better idea than hunting. “Except, where you feed on the rats, I feed on the dying.” He frowned, taking in the disapproval etched on his brother’s face. “They all die eventually. You should be pleased that I have not fed on a healthy human in months.” </span><span style="line-height: 150%;"> </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-azT2MmX2Z8g/TyWew-rwbrI/AAAAAAAAAwY/i3QlI3jHpAQ/s1600/Screenshot-492.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-azT2MmX2Z8g/TyWew-rwbrI/AAAAAAAAAwY/i3QlI3jHpAQ/s640/Screenshot-492.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">Nikolai cast his brother a cold look before retreating to his bedroom. He was exhausted from it all. He never wanted this for himself and he’d never wish it on anyone – not even his greatest enemy. Mars was to blame. For everything.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dRkU01fdHpo/TyWc1rIN3UI/AAAAAAAAAvA/boFcp0tWlSA/s1600/Screenshot-417.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dRkU01fdHpo/TyWc1rIN3UI/AAAAAAAAAvA/boFcp0tWlSA/s640/Screenshot-417.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">His eyes shot open and fell on Amy, now snuggled up against him. He allowed himself to be selfish; to be thankful for having not convinced Mars otherwise. </div></div>Trish (Acid)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05157822101535941627noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375836425799476426.post-56769508375217099992012-01-27T09:54:00.000-08:002012-01-27T09:54:14.662-08:003. A Perfect Stranger<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b>Note:</b> I don't normally like to write from a first person point of view, so I've alternated between third person and first person, which are snippets from Arianne's diary & will be published in italics. Ok, back to the story!</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">________</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b>Riverview, 1805<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><i>Arianne’s Diary<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><i><br />
</i></b></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UBKAUdaZMto/TyLbpbg4ROI/AAAAAAAAAuo/to1js2vMe5I/s1600/Screenshot-426.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UBKAUdaZMto/TyLbpbg4ROI/AAAAAAAAAuo/to1js2vMe5I/s640/Screenshot-426.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">The rain plummeted to the ground, casting grey skies and threatening clouds over the small farming town of Riverview. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HZ3UCtOscGY/TyLZeDjUxXI/AAAAAAAAAtQ/7TXJ4dX5x2Y/s1600/Screenshot-428.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HZ3UCtOscGY/TyLZeDjUxXI/AAAAAAAAAtQ/7TXJ4dX5x2Y/s640/Screenshot-428.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <span style="line-height: 150%;">Arianne made her way down to the kitchen where the aroma of freshly baked scones and bread teased her senses. Awaiting her at the cluttered breakfast table was a piping hot pot of tea and a plate of Cook’s famous cinnamon buns.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“Afternoon, Miss Livingston.” Ileana, the girl brought in to help Cook with kitchen duty, greeted her before resuming her duties. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">Arianne tossed her a smile and waited for her bookworm sister to join her for tea.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R6vsECJoFz0/TyLZm-1MVaI/AAAAAAAAAtY/h6jD1ggwfs4/s1600/Screenshot-431.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R6vsECJoFz0/TyLZm-1MVaI/AAAAAAAAAtY/h6jD1ggwfs4/s640/Screenshot-431.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <span style="line-height: 150%;">“Well now, Miss Arianne, if I were not mistaken I would say there were a spring in your step.” Hettie Adams, or Cook as she was known around the household, cast her young madam a warm smile, setting aside the vegetables for the evening supper.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aLBLJd0M0fM/TyLZzLrJlfI/AAAAAAAAAtg/wSNVXfXfpOg/s1600/Screenshot-435.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aLBLJd0M0fM/TyLZzLrJlfI/AAAAAAAAAtg/wSNVXfXfpOg/s640/Screenshot-435.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <span style="line-height: 150%;">“Father is due home today. I do hope the rain does not delay his return.”</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“And it shall not.” She poured a cup of tea for herself and Arianne.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“Where is Amelia?” Arianne could never understand her sister’s deep fascination with the written word. She preferred to have the stories told to her; in the same way their mother had told them bedtime stories when they were little girls.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“In the library, I am sure.”</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“Hmm.” She nodded and bit into a scrumptious cinnamon bun. The flavours burst onto her tongue, sending her into euphoria. Hettie really was an amazing cook. And something of a confidante and mother figure ever since Elizabeth Livingston had passed away. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CF3nEJLcP6I/TyLaKlPSt8I/AAAAAAAAAto/d8pARAxKkbA/s1600/Screenshot-441.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CF3nEJLcP6I/TyLaKlPSt8I/AAAAAAAAAto/d8pARAxKkbA/s640/Screenshot-441.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <span style="line-height: 150%;">“Father’s telegram has only reached today.” Amelia announced despondently as she entered the kitchen. She had hoped for some exciting news but all he had mentioned was that everything was fine.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“What did it say? When did he send it? Is he all right?” Arianne jumped up and bombarded her sister with a canon of questions. Her adrenalin levels had sky-rocketed as she immediately thought of the worst.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“He is fine, Annie!” Amelia huffed and helped herself to tea. “He is, however, bringing two guests with him. He has not mentioned anything further. Will you manage, Cook?”</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“Of course, Miss Amelia.” Cook beamed; there was no meal she could not adequately prepare for. “It shall not take me long to make the necessary arrangements.” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Gf0YhqLexe0/TyLaeKJj3DI/AAAAAAAAAtw/FDu7eng9juY/s1600/Screenshot-444.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Gf0YhqLexe0/TyLaeKJj3DI/AAAAAAAAAtw/FDu7eng9juY/s640/Screenshot-444.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <i style="line-height: 150%;">For the rest of the day, Amelia and I occupied ourselves in the library while Cook saw to it that the grandest meal should be prepared. My sister, as usual, had her head buried in a book while I sat for my portrait. I suspect that Pierre was getting rather impatient with me as I could not sit still. I would turn to look out the window when I thought he was not looking. I could not help it, Diary. I needed to hear the clang of hooves and carriage wheels before my turbulent mind could rest. And then it came.</i><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><i><o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ALSD9jM3YU4/TyLbOzszrQI/AAAAAAAAAuY/Q6y7r30fRXs/s1600/Screenshot-464.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ALSD9jM3YU4/TyLbOzszrQI/AAAAAAAAAuY/Q6y7r30fRXs/s640/Screenshot-464.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“Where are my two beautiful daughters?” Charles Livingston bellowed heartily the moment his foot passed over the threshold. He had brought many gifts back with him and he was sure they would be eager to receive them; though he hoped they would be more eager to see him. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2ANfhdCNiT0/TyLaq98dmXI/AAAAAAAAAt4/3wcXkrVQ8y8/s1600/Screenshot-447.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2ANfhdCNiT0/TyLaq98dmXI/AAAAAAAAAt4/3wcXkrVQ8y8/s640/Screenshot-447.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <span style="line-height: 150%;">Arianne, upon hearing her father’s voice, ran out to the hall to greet him. He looked pale and drained from the travelling but she didn’t make any mention of it. She flung her arms around him, hugging him, and taking in his familiar scent of tobacco and musk. Standing behind Dr. Livingston were the two young men he had mentioned in his telegram.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qeNiK3rF-Iw/TyLa9WrrKRI/AAAAAAAAAuI/5dQjvrSTFkE/s1600/Screenshot-456.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qeNiK3rF-Iw/TyLa9WrrKRI/AAAAAAAAAuI/5dQjvrSTFkE/s640/Screenshot-456.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><i>Of the two gentlemen who had accompanied Father back to Riverview, the man with the fiery hair had caught my eye instantly. His hair flowed over his shoulders like molten lava from a volcano; his eyes were a fiery abyss that I would not contest to getting lost in. He had the most perfect skin – porcelain and flawless; if I wasn’t mistaken, Diary, I could have swore I saw a golden aura about him. And his lips... Diary, his lips were full and kissable. I could tell he was a man who knew how to take care of himself. His features, his demeanour, his everything just seemed so perfect to me. I was truly spellbound. <o:p></o:p></i></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DktPXpE14B4/TyLayR6reEI/AAAAAAAAAuA/a9VBmvakZy0/s1600/Screenshot-453.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DktPXpE14B4/TyLayR6reEI/AAAAAAAAAuA/a9VBmvakZy0/s640/Screenshot-453.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><i>“It is rude to stare.” A voice scolded me from inside. <o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><i>When I stared into those beautiful eyes, he was smiling as though he did not mind that I had taken a few moments to appreciate his physique. I swear my cheeks turned a bright scarlet red at that moment because Father was suddenly checking my temperature. </i></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><i><br />
</i></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Fnjhwmteobw/TyLbHX0C-hI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/dIfyfbUrJcI/s1600/Screenshot-460.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Fnjhwmteobw/TyLbHX0C-hI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/dIfyfbUrJcI/s640/Screenshot-460.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <span style="line-height: 150%;">“This is Mars Mortensen and his brother Nikolai. Mars has requested a month’s internship under my guidance.” Charles motioned to the two gentlemen who were lingering outside in the doorway.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">He caught Amelia crinkling her nose at this announcement. His daughters knew well enough that he did not readily take in young interns as he felt them too hungry for knowledge: he had no patience for it. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“I know I don’t grant internships so easily, but Master Mortensen,” He motioned again to Mars, “made a very convincing argument.” He laughed nervously and scratched his head trying to recall that convincing argument. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h05HdS4mzQU/TyLbXyJryII/AAAAAAAAAug/OJPVioxJ1d0/s1600/Screenshot-467.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h05HdS4mzQU/TyLbXyJryII/AAAAAAAAAug/OJPVioxJ1d0/s640/Screenshot-467.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“Oh we are being so rude. Please do come in. There’s no need to linger in the doorway.” Arianne was quick to invite the two brothers in. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">________</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><span style="color: #990000; line-height: 150%;"><b>Credit:</b> </span><span style="line-height: 150%;">The Livingston House (Proper name: Sandford House) was built by</span> <a href="http://www.thesimsresource.com/members/Peachybitz1/">Peachybitz</a> which can be found on TSR. The fencing and the interior have, however, been changed. </div>Trish (Acid)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05157822101535941627noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375836425799476426.post-71729901250999567082012-01-26T08:28:00.000-08:002012-01-26T08:28:48.398-08:002. An Interlude<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b>Bridgeport, Present Day<o:p></o:p></b></div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qvixrhSYHks/TyFy7mTdv6I/AAAAAAAAAro/4v74azdS1l4/s1600/Screenshot-364.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qvixrhSYHks/TyFy7mTdv6I/AAAAAAAAAro/4v74azdS1l4/s640/Screenshot-364.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">The balls of her feet ached; all that Kat could think about was a camp out on the sofa, some sinful junk food and a good movie. Mia had finally agreed to let her move out of residence and into her own apartment: and she had seen to it that Kat experienced every up and down of moving. </div><i>“My mother – the ambassador of tough love.”</i> <div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">As soon as she settled into the sofa, allowing the leather to mould around her body and kicked off her shoes, the phone rang.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XUXuIUan1ys/TyFzLj6G0zI/AAAAAAAAArw/pvA_eMQVYdM/s1600/Screenshot-366.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XUXuIUan1ys/TyFzLj6G0zI/AAAAAAAAArw/pvA_eMQVYdM/s640/Screenshot-366.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><i>“Hey dude! It’s the big launch of Hemisphere tonight.”</i><span style="line-height: 150%;"> Loryn wasted no time in proposing a night out on the town. </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“No can do. I feel so beat that my legs might fall off.”</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><i>“Don’t be a Peter the party pooper.”</i><i style="line-height: 150%;"> </i><span style="line-height: 150%;">Lor begged; no doubt she hadn’t got any partying done back home. If ever there was a prize for the world’s strictest parents, it would go to Mr. And Mrs. Quinn</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“Don’t be a nag.” Kat laughed into the phone. </div><i>“Alright. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”</i> <div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">Kat hung up the phone and filed through her very limited DVD collection.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">________</div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QRcdSGae7Os/TyFz85APd3I/AAAAAAAAAsQ/O9xa0oto664/s1600/Screenshot-382.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QRcdSGae7Os/TyFz85APd3I/AAAAAAAAAsQ/O9xa0oto664/s640/Screenshot-382.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">Nick propped himself up against the bar, taking in his latest venture. Opening his own businesses had become something of a hobby over the last century: restaurants, night clubs, gentlemen’s clubs – anything that seemed appropriate for the time and place. Nick sipped his beer gingerly. Still warm; but he liked it that way. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">He closed his eyes and thought of the days when life was a balancing act between shifts, blood bank raids and hours in the OR. In the same breath, he missed watching patients miraculously recovering from ailments that would otherwise have taken them in days. But, all of that was part of a life he’d grown tired of. Having lived through the centuries it was important for him to keep trying new things; to avoid getting stuck in a rut. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uA8F2Dg1Rw8/TyF0FjvcTMI/AAAAAAAAAsY/Wqrds8OnoKE/s1600/Screenshot-384.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uA8F2Dg1Rw8/TyF0FjvcTMI/AAAAAAAAAsY/Wqrds8OnoKE/s640/Screenshot-384.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“It looks great.” She wrapped her arms tightly around him. His body seemed to fit perfectly with hers. She placed a soft kiss on the back of his neck. He felt a tingle run down the back of his neck. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WDuF3bkY-n0/TyF0N0nFWbI/AAAAAAAAAsg/yN5Or3ER2Ac/s1600/Screenshot-387.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WDuF3bkY-n0/TyF0N0nFWbI/AAAAAAAAAsg/yN5Or3ER2Ac/s640/Screenshot-387.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“All thanks to your great planning.” He pulled her in for a tight embrace. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“I can’t wait to get settled into the new house.” She whispered; tired of picking up and moving every few years. But she already knew the response to the statement: there was no way they could settle permanently, anywhere, with vampires still figures of fiction. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_ZkODHwp9r4/TyF0Z2CD_gI/AAAAAAAAAso/42jVHD885iI/s1600/Screenshot-402.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_ZkODHwp9r4/TyF0Z2CD_gI/AAAAAAAAAso/42jVHD885iI/s640/Screenshot-402.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“Maybe in another city.” He turned and busied himself with inspecting the bar top. Amy meant well. She always did. But even after two hundred years she had still not adapted to the nomadic lifestyle they were forced to lead. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br />
</div>“I’m sorry. I forgot.” She whispered apologetically. It had slipped her mind that Bridgeport was the last city that Nick would have chosen to settle in. There was history here for him: bad history. It was at her behest that he agreed to move to the city so that she could finish a degree in Economics. For as long as they had been together, Nick had done everything to give her the world. She truly loved him for this. <br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-N-9eaGIMvF4/TyF0nIlBS5I/AAAAAAAAAsw/c4pe2BbogOY/s1600/Screenshot-405.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-N-9eaGIMvF4/TyF0nIlBS5I/AAAAAAAAAsw/c4pe2BbogOY/s640/Screenshot-405.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">He squeezed her hand gently before pulling her in for a quick kiss. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“Let’s just enjoy the night, Love.” To him, she was even more beautiful than the first time he had laid his eyes on her. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">________</div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ub9cG_bbACE/TyFzXVwRgMI/AAAAAAAAAr4/cmvPy9_B35I/s1600/Screenshot-368.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ub9cG_bbACE/TyFzXVwRgMI/AAAAAAAAAr4/cmvPy9_B35I/s640/Screenshot-368.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">After running through the box of DVDs she’d brought over from home, Kat had decided to forgo movie night alone. What she really needed was a hot shower and bed rest. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7ayccsmJ2mA/TyFzixUEbHI/AAAAAAAAAsA/ZrDaNxMCd28/s1600/Screenshot-372.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7ayccsmJ2mA/TyFzixUEbHI/AAAAAAAAAsA/ZrDaNxMCd28/s640/Screenshot-372.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">She emptied the box of old books from Nan’s house onto the bed and went through them once more. In the rush to get lunch over with, she didn’t get a chance to go through the titles properly. The old diary she had tossed aside collapsed on top of the pile. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><i>“How did you get in here?”</i> She picked it up and ran through its pages: <i>The Diary of Arianne Livingston</i>. It was covered in leather stained in blue. The edges were frayed and a few pages had tacky dog ears; but other than that it was as neatly kept as it could be for a two hundred year old diary. Mildly curious, she began reading the first entry.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MlL9EQq60rk/TyFzwwuz2uI/AAAAAAAAAsI/sx4q8KykNfk/s1600/Screenshot-376.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MlL9EQq60rk/TyFzwwuz2uI/AAAAAAAAAsI/sx4q8KykNfk/s640/Screenshot-376.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i style="line-height: 150%;">26 January, 1805</i></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><i>Dear Diary<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><i>Today I am truly over the moon, even with the torrential rain. Father will be returning from his visit to Bulgaria. I do envy him so. Travel has always been an interest of mine; ever since Father told of his wonderful adventures through Eastern Europe. He is so fortunate. <o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b>To be continued... <o:p></o:p></b></div>Trish (Acid)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05157822101535941627noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375836425799476426.post-60032371249458244682012-01-21T11:48:00.000-08:002012-01-21T11:48:31.374-08:001. Obligations<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Warnings:</span></b> Lack of flow and terrible poses.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">________</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Riverview, Present Day</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nrUZnSvfYSI/TxsNuE4gGFI/AAAAAAAAAqI/f2TUIn25M5I/s1600/Screenshot-309.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nrUZnSvfYSI/TxsNuE4gGFI/AAAAAAAAAqI/f2TUIn25M5I/s640/Screenshot-309.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">The hour-long drive into Riverview seemed to drag on for an eternity. The space between the two women was punctuated with small talk of the upcoming semester, the drive of the new car and Nan’s slow spiral into senile dementia. The smooth crooning of Sade was swapped for static on the FM Radio as the car left the asphalt and took on the gravel road of Manor side.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nhIv9lVtZ-w/TxsN1RZfpJI/AAAAAAAAAqQ/s7lSv0sZyEg/s1600/Screenshot-308.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nhIv9lVtZ-w/TxsN1RZfpJI/AAAAAAAAAqQ/s7lSv0sZyEg/s640/Screenshot-308.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">Kat felt the leather stick to her bare thighs. Even with the aircon on full blast the humidity had found a way to make the drive as uncomfortable as it possibly could. She blew away a stray lock of hair, thinking of the small stuffy house - with only one aircon in the main bedroom - that awaited them at 27 Rose Road. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“Who’s going to be there?” Finally, the question she’d asked every time they visited Nan had escaped her lips. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“Just us.” Mia Covington cast her daughter a wry a smile. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><i>Just us</i> meant <b>everyone</b>. Kat sank into her seat hoping this lunch would go quickly. This wasn’t what she had in mind for the last Sunday of her vacation but she had familial obligations. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sagi28-CnYo/TxsOFHBvDUI/AAAAAAAAAqY/bnWXTpYG3Vo/s1600/Screenshot-312.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sagi28-CnYo/TxsOFHBvDUI/AAAAAAAAAqY/bnWXTpYG3Vo/s640/Screenshot-312.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div> <span style="line-height: 150%;">As the car pulled into the driveway, old Breezer came bounding down the pathway to welcome them. After a bit of petting, soothing clucks and commands to stop jumping, Kat and Mia had finally found their way into the house.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mwdg8awqZ90/TxsOTplP6sI/AAAAAAAAAqg/IaizMmemHa4/s1600/Screenshot-320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mwdg8awqZ90/TxsOTplP6sI/AAAAAAAAAqg/IaizMmemHa4/s640/Screenshot-320.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">The men, as usual, were parked in front of the TV watching the game; the women were bustling in the cramped kitchen trying to help with finishing touches. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aop0mzNJoQE/TxsOiMjvF5I/AAAAAAAAAqo/g-ZnrYtA2d4/s1600/Screenshot-326.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aop0mzNJoQE/TxsOiMjvF5I/AAAAAAAAAqo/g-ZnrYtA2d4/s640/Screenshot-326.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">After the hugging, kissing and all the other niceties that came with a family gathering, Kat joined her cousins in the awkward silences and stilted conversation that culminated around the dining table. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">“Babes, look what I found.” Nan set an old photo album down on the table. Kat flipped through the leaves. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4qZHXKaAiiE/TxsOmeq-oBI/AAAAAAAAAqw/24juqDlc78A/s1600/collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="378" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4qZHXKaAiiE/TxsOmeq-oBI/AAAAAAAAAqw/24juqDlc78A/s640/collage.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">There were pictures of her first birthday, trips to the beach and visits to the old beach house.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bu-UmD2SxI4/TxsOz3NcaCI/AAAAAAAAAq4/-NoI62VcVpU/s1600/Screenshot-337.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bu-UmD2SxI4/TxsOz3NcaCI/AAAAAAAAAq4/-NoI62VcVpU/s640/Screenshot-337.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">"There’s more in the attic. I want to give everyone their things before I die.”</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">Kat forced a reassuring smile that that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. The old lady had been going on about kicking the bucket ever since Gramps passed on six years ago.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">She excused herself and headed toward the attic.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YT0grlR56-8/TxsO_LYdB2I/AAAAAAAAArA/3pAwFEwc-nM/s1600/Screenshot-353.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YT0grlR56-8/TxsO_LYdB2I/AAAAAAAAArA/3pAwFEwc-nM/s640/Screenshot-353.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">The old attic was clouded in a blanket of dust and the smell of moth balls hung thick in the air. Kat fumbled for the light switch almost tripping over the junk strewn across the floor. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">“I wonder if the old bird has anything valuable in here.” Bridget kicked over a few boxes and what looked like a dead rat as she dived straight for an old chest.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">“Gee Bridge, you could at least pretend to be interested in the worthless stuff.” Kat rolled her eyes and manoeuvred her way through old furniture, toys and other objects passed down through the generations, ignoring her cousin’s snide comment over an old teddy bear. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-35Xfi7JfaWs/TxsPLrxYDeI/AAAAAAAAArI/JEPlEQcbYN0/s1600/Screenshot-358.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-35Xfi7JfaWs/TxsPLrxYDeI/AAAAAAAAArI/JEPlEQcbYN0/s640/Screenshot-358.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">She eventually found the album among a pile of old books that the small bookcase downstairs couldn’t house. Some were first editions of the classics: Great Expectations, To Kill a Mockingbird, and Heart of Darkness. There were also a few works from Shakespeare and some other titles she didn’t recognise. She thumbed through the pages of what looked like an old diary before tossing it aside. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l6DClEtbxXo/TxsPZINsVII/AAAAAAAAArQ/NtrX6nv2sB4/s1600/Screenshot-360.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l6DClEtbxXo/TxsPZINsVII/AAAAAAAAArQ/NtrX6nv2sB4/s640/Screenshot-360.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.5pt; border: none; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;"> <div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; line-height: 150%; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm; text-align: left;">“Girls! Lunch is ready” Nan’s voice came from the bottom of the stairs. Kat gathered the pile of books and albums she wanted before making her way down to another two hours – at least - of torture. </div></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gyX4-MggVzQ/TxsPkDipbdI/AAAAAAAAArY/Euoad_MyP7o/s1600/Screenshot-346.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gyX4-MggVzQ/TxsPkDipbdI/AAAAAAAAArY/Euoad_MyP7o/s640/Screenshot-346.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">Leaving couldn’t have come any sooner. As everyone said their goodbyes – which was really last minute gossip – Kat packed the box of albums and books away in the boot. The food was the only saving grace of this family lunch. She was glad to be free of her Aunt Carmine’s bragging over their holiday in... Wherever it was; and Doctor Dean’s brash comments about anything and everything. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8e8Z9D5aV8M/TxsPsCkZrhI/AAAAAAAAArg/Jjg51gpnB3E/s1600/Screenshot-350.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8e8Z9D5aV8M/TxsPsCkZrhI/AAAAAAAAArg/Jjg51gpnB3E/s640/Screenshot-350.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">“I’m dying for a cigarette.” Mia pulled out of the driveway, just as eager to get away from her prying family. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; mso-add-space: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">________</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">The synopsis has been published. It can be found <b><a href="http://mars-rising.blogspot.com/p/synopsis.html">here</a>.</b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">Also a big thank you to everyone who has taken an interest :) Hopefully I stick this one out to the end.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Trish (Acid)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05157822101535941627noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375836425799476426.post-84314115879553077032012-01-20T07:54:00.000-08:002012-01-20T08:02:25.214-08:00Prologue<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Bridgeport, 1812</i></span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VbFEfm_vfVU/TxmKqQNh9NI/AAAAAAAAAoQ/Y46CPyMeEbU/s1600/Screenshot-267.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VbFEfm_vfVU/TxmKqQNh9NI/AAAAAAAAAoQ/Y46CPyMeEbU/s400/Screenshot-267.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="hps"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;">“cum</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;"> </span></i></span><span class="hps"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;">alica</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;"> </span></i></span><span class="hps"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;">ad</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;"> </span></i></span><span class="hps"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;">hoc</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;"> </span></i></span><span class="hps"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;">sepulcrum</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;"> </span></i></span><span class="hps"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;">imponit</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;"> </span></i></span><span class="hps"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;">i,”</span></i></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The tomb was plunged in darkness.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><i><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“<span class="hps"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">ubi</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"> </span></span><span class="hps"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">erit</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"> </span></span><span class="hps"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">aeterno</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"> </span></span><span class="hps"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">carcere”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"><span class="hps"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A bone-chilling cold crept in. The walls shook violently as the chanting grew louder and more ardent.</span></span></span><br />
<span class="hps"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Volt-A4IUPk/TxmK52oV2NI/AAAAAAAAAoY/oft4F4ECRxI/s1600/Screenshot-212.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Volt-A4IUPk/TxmK52oV2NI/AAAAAAAAAoY/oft4F4ECRxI/s400/Screenshot-212.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="hps"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;">“cum</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;"> </span></i></span><span class="hps"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;">alica</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;"> </span></i></span><span class="hps"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;">ad</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;"> </span></i></span><span class="hps"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;">hoc</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;"> </span></i></span><span class="hps"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;">sepulcrum</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;"> </span></i></span><span class="hps"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;">imponit</span></i></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;"> </span></i></span><span class="hps"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;">i,”</span></i></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 36pt; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The torches burst into flames. Rogue flares escaped to the tomb floor, encircling the weathered coffin.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><i><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“<span class="hps"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">ubi</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"> </span></span><span class="hps"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">erit</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"> </span></span><span class="hps"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">aeterno</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"> </span></span><span class="hps"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">carcere”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"><span class="hps"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She was drunk on the power of a hundred witches. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"><span class="hps"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A shrill cry reverberated off the stone walls...<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 36pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"><span class="hps"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then died with the flames.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-brpupo_v_eU/TxmLQyfUY_I/AAAAAAAAAog/jK0ECkR8Hl4/s1600/Screenshot-270.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-brpupo_v_eU/TxmLQyfUY_I/AAAAAAAAAog/jK0ECkR8Hl4/s400/Screenshot-270.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><span class="hps"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“It is done.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><span class="hps"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ileana stood to the side and watched him survey the tomb, looking for any fault in her work.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><span class="hps"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“My spells never fail.”</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><span class="hps"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She watched some more, her green eyes fixed grudgingly on him as he tried to pry the coffin open. It wouldn’t budge.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><span class="hps"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“One thousand pounds-”<br />
<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><span class="hps"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">“I don’t need your money. When the time comes I will collect for this favour.” She turned on her heal and left.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1SC2euulDkM/TxmLWMmy6SI/AAAAAAAAAoo/UD_wZYXmqPw/s1600/incoffin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1SC2euulDkM/TxmLWMmy6SI/AAAAAAAAAoo/UD_wZYXmqPw/s400/incoffin.jpg" width="250" /></span></a></div><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">With the spell cast, he would lie there for centuries...</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"><span class="hps"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">‘til the day someone would reawaken him. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"><span class="hps"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;"><span class="hps"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">________</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;"><b style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 150%; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"><br />
</b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">Note:</b><span style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"> I'm no Latin expert; so any errors in the grammar are those of Google Translate (^.^)</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"><span class="hps"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: whitesmoke; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></span></div>Trish (Acid)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05157822101535941627noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375836425799476426.post-50734164346752042032012-01-07T07:06:00.000-08:002012-01-07T07:06:37.117-08:00Coming SoonTrish (Acid)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05157822101535941627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375836425799476426.post-43385098411769072902012-01-07T07:00:00.000-08:002012-01-07T07:00:04.077-08:00Nate Hastings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iZe7x9Rl9FU/Twhc2MVNPmI/AAAAAAAAAn4/t1vrwpibWxg/s1600/Screenshot-157.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iZe7x9Rl9FU/Twhc2MVNPmI/AAAAAAAAAn4/t1vrwpibWxg/s400/Screenshot-157.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XaKRjIig_LM/TwhdB9HlknI/AAAAAAAAAoA/--QPu1dZ6uo/s1600/Screenshot-162.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XaKRjIig_LM/TwhdB9HlknI/AAAAAAAAAoA/--QPu1dZ6uo/s400/Screenshot-162.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Iiwp_9ZQrVU/TwhdNuN3rhI/AAAAAAAAAoI/urjnf-wVRFc/s1600/Screenshot-148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Iiwp_9ZQrVU/TwhdNuN3rhI/AAAAAAAAAoI/urjnf-wVRFc/s400/Screenshot-148.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Trish (Acid)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05157822101535941627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375836425799476426.post-9628542659470649852012-01-07T06:53:00.000-08:002012-01-07T06:53:40.988-08:00Nikolai Mortensen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QvmwKsUSXfE/Twhb-7ABwiI/AAAAAAAAAng/g0ifS62ApW4/s1600/Screenshot-166.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QvmwKsUSXfE/Twhb-7ABwiI/AAAAAAAAAng/g0ifS62ApW4/s400/Screenshot-166.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3dQrkAOYIZE/TwhcJxcDk7I/AAAAAAAAAno/rEVuYL0XdQI/s1600/Screenshot-116.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3dQrkAOYIZE/TwhcJxcDk7I/AAAAAAAAAno/rEVuYL0XdQI/s400/Screenshot-116.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dd5CUlpke2U/TwhcQKZi-jI/AAAAAAAAAnw/C59RygBa4p8/s1600/Screenshot-120.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dd5CUlpke2U/TwhcQKZi-jI/AAAAAAAAAnw/C59RygBa4p8/s400/Screenshot-120.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1800's Nikolai</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Trish (Acid)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05157822101535941627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375836425799476426.post-11994429693934511292012-01-07T06:49:00.000-08:002012-01-07T06:54:19.656-08:00Mars Mortensen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Zj02jRZc5fM/TwhaEkT6ztI/AAAAAAAAAnI/XVAn0lUrJ3s/s1600/Screenshot-138+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Zj02jRZc5fM/TwhaEkT6ztI/AAAAAAAAAnI/XVAn0lUrJ3s/s400/Screenshot-138+-+Copy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dd2o9_OwahM/TwhaPTPNb9I/AAAAAAAAAnQ/LShlmLqd-O0/s1600/Screenshot-143+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dd2o9_OwahM/TwhaPTPNb9I/AAAAAAAAAnQ/LShlmLqd-O0/s400/Screenshot-143+-+Copy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SeZbcqTEHrk/Twhaji3sHJI/AAAAAAAAAnY/8O-sqpFjV_c/s1600/Screenshot-136.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SeZbcqTEHrk/Twhaji3sHJI/AAAAAAAAAnY/8O-sqpFjV_c/s400/Screenshot-136.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Trish (Acid)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05157822101535941627noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375836425799476426.post-62203832015954319552012-01-07T06:37:00.002-08:002012-01-07T06:55:30.871-08:00Arianne Livingston<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YM9yTc-o5Bs/TwhX8dT73eI/AAAAAAAAAmw/ncxOEawZNGE/s1600/Screenshot-36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YM9yTc-o5Bs/TwhX8dT73eI/AAAAAAAAAmw/ncxOEawZNGE/s400/Screenshot-36.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y_k3fZnuSsk/TwhYHsUaLyI/AAAAAAAAAm4/2NERxZsbG34/s1600/Screenshot-24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y_k3fZnuSsk/TwhYHsUaLyI/AAAAAAAAAm4/2NERxZsbG34/s400/Screenshot-24.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XvLVvxr0a0U/TwhYQ1XXlmI/AAAAAAAAAnA/-kwicugRmQc/s1600/Screenshot-28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XvLVvxr0a0U/TwhYQ1XXlmI/AAAAAAAAAnA/-kwicugRmQc/s400/Screenshot-28.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Trish (Acid)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05157822101535941627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375836425799476426.post-37925040592143376972012-01-07T06:32:00.000-08:002012-01-07T06:58:00.224-08:00Amelia Livingston<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qGkytOgOeWs/TwhWUK7rV5I/AAAAAAAAAmY/pwfrt3OTrac/s1600/Screenshot-16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qGkytOgOeWs/TwhWUK7rV5I/AAAAAAAAAmY/pwfrt3OTrac/s400/Screenshot-16.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8ilrA8qsX8U/TwhWgHSwh-I/AAAAAAAAAmg/wZBO0wt8LR8/s1600/Screenshot-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8ilrA8qsX8U/TwhWgHSwh-I/AAAAAAAAAmg/wZBO0wt8LR8/s400/Screenshot-5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Zj4tGkaPdIM/TwhWp9pXnyI/AAAAAAAAAmo/wbngzViqu_o/s1600/Screenshot-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Zj4tGkaPdIM/TwhWp9pXnyI/AAAAAAAAAmo/wbngzViqu_o/s400/Screenshot-11.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Trish (Acid)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05157822101535941627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6375836425799476426.post-85737483539894938412012-01-07T06:20:00.000-08:002012-01-20T12:40:33.844-08:00Katherine Covington<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zHyOuGHIiDo/TxnQTFUJs_I/AAAAAAAAAow/YbMrCokIlLI/s1600/Screenshot-287.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zHyOuGHIiDo/TxnQTFUJs_I/AAAAAAAAAow/YbMrCokIlLI/s400/Screenshot-287.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9av_Qgt25H8/TxnQfTL08xI/AAAAAAAAAo4/wmE47CW9HY0/s1600/Screenshot-292.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9av_Qgt25H8/TxnQfTL08xI/AAAAAAAAAo4/wmE47CW9HY0/s400/Screenshot-292.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-INVLtyPvWW4/TxnQtlazxrI/AAAAAAAAApA/4Jenj--sbic/s1600/Screenshot-300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-INVLtyPvWW4/TxnQtlazxrI/AAAAAAAAApA/4Jenj--sbic/s400/Screenshot-300.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Trish (Acid)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05157822101535941627noreply@blogger.com0