Oh my, Itu. I am sooooo going to comemnt and read your Story everytime. I'm looking forward to it. It has gruesome violence and Blood. Blood is always good. ;D
Keep the work up~

I've not even posted it yet. x3

But I'm uber happy that I've already got a supporter! =3 I hope that my writing and story live up to your expectations.

Knew that paragraph seemed familiar. Masque of Red Death eh? Good choice to go with the title.

Indeed! I thought about it for a grand while... and then I remembered reading that little story about a year or two ago. And so I looked it up, scanned through it from end to beginning, and decided on that excerpt. I think it shall go well indeed. We'll see as my tale grows~

Yes, Itu, but I'm waiting for you to post it!~
The time is coming near, I know it is. ><

Powder like snow. You can tell what dribbled from the ceiling was not the cosmetics that filtered so dainty through the air, suffocation miraculously avoided. Actress, actress! Ever this title had avoided so delicate the wisps of florescent poisons.

“Black my mistress, she walked amongst the sane. She steps upon glass, a gown gentle at her ankles, a face without eyes, but for—”

The line incomplete, a scene pregnant with solemn meaning so easily unraveling. Screams to render the ceiling meaningless, as fountains the blood would burst, the arms grasping to the heavens shadowing such reddened gusto. Dull thud of a body otherwise light sent deep a report through the theater, hushed and betrayed echoes of other such figures adorned in silken robes of white. Angelic choir—Heavenly Host!—could not touch upon such majesty as the notes as were played so swift, sure, final piece performed for so scanty an audience!

Empty the theaters, and—

“Che, how the hell do you start off in the limelight like this?”

Jaded remark from the gal without a lock of hair to ordain her scalp, its shine defiantly gleaming through whatever left of it was visible. The hissing cracks that traced down the shattered skull bubbling on occasion, a fresh gurgling and spurt of something unusually akin to her menstrual period. A flattering scuff of easy knife against leather holster, a shift of lips to form a perturbed scowl, blood tracing dark a line against paler than usual the mocha skin, of ruddy a feminine face throwing a glare over such profoundly adorned shoulders.

A shift of boots, a hearty bout of laughter, a fist so easily crashed into her backside—should she not have released a sudden “Humph!” and split her legs to catch one booted foot about the thick ankles of the other, heavy-set, a male. Undoubtedly the proper response would have been the roar of a drop when the bald’s foot threw so gargantuan a man off his feet. Instead the metal clad boot scathed up the thick leg, she lunging forward, legs first, powerful arms pressing her from the glossed wood of floorboards.

With the other leg hooked about the back of the male’s unmarred leg, a key pressure point just below the knee, her other foot now a swift rush of thigh crushed viciously into the groin of the man, he was sent back and into the ground. Should it not have been so intimately entwined a position—a quick thrust of the knife, a gargled choke and shudder, a bitter smile on the face of the pierced.

“Shitfaced… Glory.”

A deeper hiss of breath, an audible snap as so easily a rib was splintered, a faint hum from the woman through furiously clenched teeth, eyes shattered as something from within the brain detonated with a corrugated click the only whisper of its existence. A face already soiled by such simple means as Life was further splattered with the device that existed as the origin of Thought. Such a mess, to paint her face in repulsive shades t’would never fit her own hue of skin.

“Shitfaced indeed,” came the bitter response, a hand slathered over her face to throw off the more gruesome of such internal organs that curled and stung.

A sudden cry of mingled loathing and frustration was traced in the hollow air in the raised and deserted theater. She heavily tore and dragged the extravagant and long blade, still wrenched cruelly in the spluttering chest, through the suicidal man. Hiss of cloth that made weaker people shake and shriek echoed her wordless sentiments.

Wrenching away from the heat and stench that could only be caught up from the air when prey had been audaciously frayed by the teeth of the meticulous hunter, she reeled for a moment. It was overwhelming and a ragged cough, strangled choking was soon distilled as she staggered away drunkenly, so suddenly her legs finding themselves and leaping down to good earth. For though the stage was raised and of fine timber, the audience settled upon endless rows of benches, all tall and dug halfway in the deep brown of the earth. Immersed so soundly, such crafts of metal sat so reverently merely for those whose tainted essences of makeup and stale clothing now mingled with that of a solemn lifeblood, chilling so promptly as to make a fool of the easy term “Pronto” they themselves so oft used.



//Marring the Masquerade… Volume One//



“You’re a fucking asshole Saccharine and I do—.”

“Shut the hell up Ritch and explain to me why you felt tha—.”

“And I don’t need you,” the bald reiterated, raising her voice to overcome that of her comrade. “To give me this BULLSHIT about how I keep killing them off!”

A scoff from the other female, her arms crossed defiantly, though Ritch knew it to be a defensive movement and was soon up in the slighter female’s face, her words more a snarl than the rudimentary English.

“Vlad was DIRTY. And you fuckin’ tell me I shouldn’t kill the bastard when he had every intention of doing—THIS!” Her far-from amiable fingers encircled the neck of the stringy woman with fraught brutality and she crushed Saccharine into the wall, her own eyes bloodshot and inhumanly wide. The crude sound of a gargled breath and whimpering only intensified the already unstable rage Ritch had so easily fallen prey to.

“Should fucking kill you too for supporting the basta—a.” The sudden feel of cool metal, one long shaft sliding greedily against her pelvis, raking down the faint patch of skin that showed just above her pants, and the other pressed firmly between her lips, the hollow and grating note of bone against gun sending a violent shiver through her.

“Let her go, Ritch.” Voice like gravel, a blind eye turned white, salt and pepper hair longer than any man should ever have been able to grow it. This callous man with skin like faintly bruising peaches was the only person she had ever answered to. His nameless gun was what had been so casually lodged between her words and the comrade she would have destroyed had their suggestions gone any further.

The weapon pushed painfully against her teeth now, the faint second that had passed since his words shattered her fit enough to encourage the swift wince and simultaneous release of the woman so steadily being ground into the wall. With Saccharine’s heartfelt relief composed in a gasp and an easy fall to her feet from the foot above ground she’d been held at by the taller assaulter, the male removed his weapon.

A scowl from Ritch and she spit viciously on the frigid concrete, the second shudder within so short a time hidden by the motion as Saccharine withdrew her own weapon from the pants of her comrade. A faint snarl after the lighter woman, and Ritch twisted away from the two, bent on escaping the questions that wanted to come.

“R—.”

“Shut the fuck up, Saccharine,” Ritch called over her shoulder, not bothering to see if the woman would follow her through the dank walls. Their underground seemed like some grand three dimensional puzzle put together by someone with too much time on their hands. The way every stone never truly matched another, and yet how they fit so perfectly into one another had always irked her. She couldn’t stand them her first week here, but after the inhabitants slowly began showing themselves, the make of the place became her last concern.

Hollow reports of guns ever ghosted the maze of a hideout, skitters of various rodents and such other beasts had fallen into the routinely backdrop of life here. The occasional flood above ground would bring months when the walls that kept them sheltered and safe would weep endlessly. Thus another sound added to the incessant orchestra.

And to trundle down the pathways, ignoring the chatter of those she’d grown too used to, was no longer a desperate and chary ordeal. The sensuous pleasure of wooden anything was nonexistent. Her room, like many of the others’, was merely an ordeal of stone and untarnished metals.

Already shrugging off the weight of musty leather, the extravagant sleeves made of enough layers, so curiously adorned atop her shoulders as to make their broad and sloping form all the more imposing, swiftly she caught the piece in one hand. The grand weight dropping into so expectant and deft a couple of fingers would have snapped them had it been anyone else. And with the quick motion of a step through the door-less arch just tall enough for her, she blinked slowly, head turned to the reverberating floor.

A rustle of sound. In the moment her eyes had shut.

Snapping them open it was with a swift twist, ballet at its worst no doubt, that she missed the swift slathering of herself into the wall. A styled laugh from an overly languid someone the only thing to greet her as the large arch of metal softly suctioned itself to the wall. There was a gluttonous kissing between the long knives that curved a foot long from the metal strip, curving in a way similar to that of a bow pulled back and awaiting release. So in the same manner this weapon worked. But for the long double knives that seemed to grow longer each passing year, curling to form curious stakes and having a dangerous, feral quality. These would impale, then, using the very heat of their prey, begin to twist and melt and peel open by some means, ripping apart what was inside, tearing through the back, shredding their opponent slowly at first, until at last they very well exploded in a last vicious twist. Upon exposure to the cool air, the blades would hiss softly as they returned to their previous state.

“Ri’ch! I’d a feelin’ you’d come back without nothin’ but you’self. Loo’s like ya had you’self a gran’ old time! Brought me anythin’?” Faintly grey eyes twinkled wickedly, the culprit reposing languidly upon her bed, not a care that his slick and muddied boots were staining the only source of warmth in this little cavern of hers.

“Friggin’ confident grin for someone who just threw away their weapon,” she growled in return. “Get the hell off my bed, Scrouch. Or I’ll twist you apart more painfully than your Lacey over there.”

The look of utter shock that donned his fair face was merely a clever act, though she knew it only by the swift placement of his hands, clapped so extravagantly over his heart. With an odd shift of weight forwards, he slid off the bed, standing just tall enough to nearly brush the ceiling and smirking defiantly. A simple step brought him to her, emphasizing just how small her room was, along with how tall Scrouch himself was.

“Be a goo’ bug an’ jus’ hush, now, would ya, Ri’ch? Glad’a see you back, an’ tha’s all that really matters,” he said, leaning down swiftly to duck beneath the low doorway, and patting her bared shoulder as he went. His other hand had grasped his weapon and it almost instinctively released from the wall it could not dig into. “I’ll seeya ’roun’ Ri’ch. An’ try an’ not give Sachie so hard a time, would ya?”

She turned in time to catch the flash of a grin on his lips and scoffed before violently slashing her jacket at the wall, careless of the noise. The sleeveless shirt beneath was dragged over her head without a care of getting it filthy with the still faintly streaming blood. That was thrown to the foot of her bed, where a large and shallow basin held a collection of other such soiled clothes. Next with a faint clawing at her back the latch of so fitting a bra was undone, though she had no time to remove it, caught in the midst of stepping to her bed, fingering the buckles of her belt.

“Explain.”

A grim expression to greet her eyes, and she immediately regretted glancing back to look, caught helpless in the gaze of so unsure a man as this shorter, elegant form was. A silent snarl, her lips pulled back and eyes flickering low, she shook slightly, furious that she’d been once again taken up so easily by his captivating eyes. The one that yet could see was shaded a murky hazel, like pond water still for far too long.

“Explain what,” she finally bit off bitterly, her own corrugated voice enough to break the entrancement this older man had cast over her. “Vlad was dirty. And from the sounds of it, people here knew something about it.”

She suddenly wrenched around again, a bitter cry echoing like the deranged clattering of so many spoons to the floor, one after the other, a tap undying. The flowing hair that slithered over his meek shoulders fluttered slightly as the dagger she’d thrown hissed past his head. He blinked in that instant and her own shoulders sank, she soon turning around wearily and throwing herself roughly upon her bed.

“How the hell are we all gonna survive if our numbers keep turning on us? How the hell are they getting those damn machines in their heads? And how the hell are you able to be so God-damned calm all the God-damned time, Dew?” She turned a repulsed glare at the man, turning over and sitting up on the edge of her bed. “You don’t have one of the Weapons like us. You never even God-damn eat or sleep yet you’re fit as a fiddle for all your looks. And why the hell don’t we ever find you crawling into someone’s bed moaning for a cure like the rest of us?”

Silence greeted her many queries and she scoffed, expecting it, and grabbed at and pulled off one heavy boot, placing it tidily at the edge of her bed.

“Didn’t think you’d say anything, ya God-damned asshole,” she murmured and grabbed for her other boot, tugging it off and putting it with the other.

“It wouldn’t hurt to share some answers with the rest of us, you know?” She raised her voice, leaning back to have better access to her own grandeur of a gangling of belts. “Always asking questions, questions, questions. And once you’re satisfied you’ll just shuffle off silent as ever.”

She arched up and shucked down her pants, maneuvering about to slide them off and cast them into the awaiting basin, careless the various clicks and clattering of the metal odds and ends that adorned her wardrobe. Glancing at last over to the doorway, a deep frown settling on her lips.

“YOU ASSHOLE, DEW. YOU COULD HAVE AT LEAST LEFT WHEN I WAS LOOKING!”

You live up to your standards..or, you live up to what you promise.
So much Violence, it makes me dance. xD
Do you ever plan to publish your works? I'll promise I'll be the first person to buy it, when it reaches here. XD

It has so much detail, it's hard to know what's going on, but come on, detail is good, no?

Keep up the wicked work, Itu~ ;D

I'll so be looking forward to more of your stories.

=o

My detail is confuzzling? OH DRAT. It does figure though.

But I'm glad you like it! x3 I'll let you know about updates when I start to write out some more.

Cant wait~! Oh the tension, I have to endure! *Waits patiently*

I'll work on updating this perhaps later on tonight. >> Been long enough since I left this story all on it's lonesome.

Wow Itu your writting is very advanced and so sophisticated as I've said before. Sometimes it is a little puzzling to figure out what's happening in the story only because you used such advanced words but that could be a good thing right? Besides I'm slow so you shouldn't even count my opinion xD. Though I'd have to say I loved the ending. Once I grasped the way you wrote I began understanding what you were saying. ^^. You remind me somewhat of Shakespeare (except female of course). With both you magnificent writers I must read into every detail and understand the full message. And can't just skim over it or I lose its full meaning. You're so awesome Itu. .

Heh, my thanks, Magic.

Every opinion counts, and I know that my writing is... puzzling, to say the least. It\'s so thick, so dense, I admit that though I take into consideration the fact that readers will have to struggle to get through it, I put that aside and wrote as I felt I wanted to, instead of giving much thought to how it would be from your point of view.

And every opinion matters, regardless what you think. Don\'t undermine yourself, Magic m\'dear. People do that enough for you, as it is. You know how humanity is. *Smiles after a moment.*

=3 Yay~ I\'m glad that you\'re learning to understand my... garish, it\'s so overly fashioned, style of writing.

>> Yes, every detail is important, I write like that, and I think like that, so, consequently, I am like that. *Chuckles* I\'m as easy to read as a book, ne? =3

In any case, I\'m working on an update a little more today. I\'ve had thoughts about this story, and I\'ve an idea for a few twists I can add, as time goes on. For now, I\'m going back to my writing and other work now.

Nice to see you enjoyed it, though. =3 I\'ll post updates on the story as I go along. The update is about a page long now. Should reach that soon enough. =3

Great I'm looking forward to the update. .

...\'cause, y\'know... it figures that the day after I begin to actually get a feel for where I left off on this story, that I have computer problems. And then the days following, my parental units feel I\'ve spent too much time on the internet, so they relinquish me from the computer\'s hold on my time and effort. And in the days that follow, I clean the house and muse over this story endlessly.

x3

Ahh, the power of cheese. As far as updates go, I\'m brain-storming silently, attempting to put something more than this display of personality into this tale. It was started mindlessly, as a way of venting, and now I\'m doing my best to create something with a lot of meat on it, to go with all the hot air I\'ve been blowing. =/

We\'ll see how it turns out in the coming week. I\'ll have plenty of time to think in the computer-less evenings.

I know it always turns out that right when you have the need to fufill something your always side-tracked with other occurences. And when you finally have the opportunity to accomplish what it was you intended you no longer have the Oompf to do it. . The story of my life let me tell ya.
^^

An Update!

This has become my latest NaNo project! The first post has been editted accordingly. And there you shall receive the information you need.

I am not yet sure how often I will update this. But you can check in on the word count up top every so often to see how I'm progressing.

Enjoy~!!

No way?!
You did Nanowrimo too?!

I reached my goal and did 51,158 words!
It was the awesomest and I won writting the most words for my school!!!
I was so way super siked! @0@