|
Post by Lorenzo da Firenze (Vargas) on Jan 23, 2012 12:02:58 GMT -5
Thanks.
|
|
|
Post by Angelica Vargas-Jones on Jan 23, 2012 12:03:07 GMT -5
O.o creppy, yet awesome. I'll have to re-read it when I get home so I can listen to it with the music
|
|
|
Post by Lorenzo da Firenze (Vargas) on Jan 23, 2012 12:03:49 GMT -5
=D
|
|
|
Post by Lorenzo da Firenze (Vargas) on Jan 23, 2012 22:12:51 GMT -5
Unknown-2012
“You have to wake up now,” a voice demanded calmly. The man’s brown eyes flicked open, his pupils dilating in the bright white room he was in.
“Who’s there?” the man called, standing, he knew exactly who the man was. It had been almost sixteen hundred years since he saw him last.
“You know exactly who I am, Lorenzo,” the voice chuckled, it’s body seeming to melt out of the light.
Lorenzo gnawed his lip, feeling a nervous tingle run down his spine. The “voice” did not lie. “I am sorry, father,” he said, not meting the eye of the Roman who stood before him. Instead the Florentine focused on the man’s sandaled feet.
“For what…” man began, rolling his hand for Lorenzo to finish.
Lorenzo growled slightly, dead men should be dead. Why his father- no, the Roman Empire was up and walking in this light world was mysterious. “Am I dead?” he asked, trying to avoid the question.
“No, you’re just in limbo,” Rome explained, his eyes narrowing at Lorenzo’s question ”It’s the place in between life and death. It’s where your body rejects you because it’s in an extreme, or is physically unable to survive,”
“So I’m in a coma,” the Florentine said, nodding slightly, his head still down.
“Look up at me boy, I’m speaking to you.”
Lorenzo looked up, to be met with a slap, he staggered back, “W-what the hell was that for?!” he barked, placing a hand on the red mark across his face.
“For disobeying me,” Rome growled, “I trusted you.”
“I said sorry, dammit!” Lorenzo felt the burning sense of something in his eyes. He blinked, a few times. “Rome- he,”
“What are you blaming Rome for?!” The Roman Empire snorted, “I placed their responsibility in your hands and you raized them to be cowards,”
“They weren’t your sons-“ Florence felt anger boiling in his veins, how dare his father claim right to the three.
“They were as much mine as yours, no matter how incompetent you were raizing them.”
Lorenzo growled snapping his head up to meet the amber eyes of his father “You’re supposed to be dead! Why are you here?!”
“Don’t get angry with me boy, you’re the one who put me here.” The man replied coldly, “don’t forget that.”
Something interrupted their meeting, as if a thousand mirrors were breaking one at a time- slowly coming closer and closer to the two arguing men.
“….I don’t want to die, I have to help them,” Lorenzo felt as if he was shaking like a leaf, his vision became blurred turning to look back at his father he mouthed a silent goodbye, before the floor broke under his feet and he decended into darkness.
"Memento mori," he heard his father call back.
His vision slowly swam back into focus, a dark tunnel clouding a view of his kitchen tiles. He felt the coolness of a wall against his back, along with the unforgettable warmth of crimson. Picking himself off the ground he coughed, tasting copper in his mouth from where his teeth connected with the tip of his tongue when he hit the ground. He felt where something had connected with the back of his head. He lurched forward- groaning as pain shot through his chest. Reaching up a shaking hand he felt where his collarbone protruded from his chest- with a deep breath and a pained wince he re-broke the bone, pushing it back to where it should be. Memory slowly came back to him- of an unknown entity grabbing him by the slight indent where the bone was and slamming him into the wall, successfully giving him that head injury which brought him here: back to the present.
Lorenzo stood. Watching as small specks of blood ran off his fingertips and onto the floor. The fracture still ate away at him as he walked over to the sink, washing off the excess blood he cleaned the compound fracture and rinsed out his mouth. It was more likely that he was targeted rather than simply mugged considering the fact that he had noticed the person following him for sometime. Studying the bloodstains on the floor he frowned at an unusual black scorch mark on the floor- as if someone had an explosive or lit a fire. But neither was possible without drawing the attention of authorities or neighbors. He traced the already healing wound on his chest- the skin starting to graph itself back together. It reminded him of spider’s web as it knit itself across the opening. Any physical wound on a personification would heal the same way- it might hurt them but they wouldn’t take much damage. After a while, possibly a few days at most they’d get up and start walking again. Unlike a wound to the landscape or economy of Florence he would be fine.
But even with healing beginning to set his mind at ease the thought still haunted him- what if this... thing that had attacked him not been human. What if it had been another country? It had to be relatively strong to take Lorenzo down, even if he was getting older, the thing had taken him by surprise. Scanning his house he found nothing stolen, not a single thing damaged. His attacker didn’t want to scare him; it wanted to scare the nations. If it could take down Florence then it could take down many others.
“Cazzo,” he growled, walking over to the door- opening the door he was immediately blinded by a bright light. He shielded his eyes as he stood, trying to identify these new people.
“Place your hands behind your head,” someone ordered.
“Who are you?” Lorenzo barked in reply, showing no intentions of placing his hands anywhere.
“You don’t have the right to know, now place your hands behind your head.”
Lorenzo cursed under his breath, seeing as arguing wouldn’t help he placed his hands behind his head. Armed men in soldier uniform marched up to him and placed him in handcuffs. He jerked slightly, spooking one of the guards; he smirked as he was led to a large armored van. Two of the soldiers came to help him up- “Don’t touch me.” Lorenzo growled in warning at the two who backed up. He might have been old but he was fine by himself. Sitting in the darkness as the van doors were shut and he was submerged in darkness.
Okay, so what I've done is gone back through, and with each chapter assigned a piece of music to it, so if you want to go back through and re-read the chapters with the music I'd like to hear your response on the music.
here's today's music:
|
|
|
Post by Angelica Vargas-Jones on Jan 23, 2012 22:30:27 GMT -5
Wait....Rome yelled at Renny for the way he raised Romano, Vene, and Sicily?
Oh, taken away by mysterious people....Now I really want to know what that boy is....
|
|
|
Post by Lorenzo da Firenze (Vargas) on Jan 23, 2012 22:31:29 GMT -5
MUAHAHAHA And the plot thickens....
|
|
|
Post by Angelica Vargas-Jones on Jan 23, 2012 22:38:02 GMT -5
That it does....*really wants to know*
|
|
|
Post by Lorenzo da Firenze (Vargas) on Jan 23, 2012 22:47:59 GMT -5
Chee hee hee~ You'll have to wait a little longer chica. *pat head*
|
|
|
Post by Angelica Vargas-Jones on Jan 23, 2012 23:01:58 GMT -5
*pouts* but I don't want to....*sighs* I guess i can wait...
|
|
|
Post by Lorenzo da Firenze (Vargas) on Jan 23, 2012 23:03:38 GMT -5
It'll be out soon.
|
|
|
Post by Carina Jones on Jan 23, 2012 23:19:01 GMT -5
^-^ Well written. I'll go back and listen with music probably tomorrow morning. Currently too lazy to go looking for headphones and people are going to bed.
|
|
|
Post by Lorenzo da Firenze (Vargas) on Jan 23, 2012 23:21:51 GMT -5
I see. ^-^ Gracias~
|
|
|
Post by Lorenzo da Firenze (Vargas) on Jan 24, 2012 1:35:02 GMT -5
A/N: ONWARD!
Sicily- 2012
“Something’s here.. and it wants out,” Vinci mumbled, hugging his knees to his chest as he sat on the kitchen chair, his brown eyes wide and paranoid with fear. One hand extended, he worked on the charcoal drawing of some partially visible creature with three white slit eyes and tentacles. Some Greek written at the bottom.
Sicily watched as the man drew, “Vinci,” she began, studying the inscription “that means ‘let me out’ in Ancient Greek.” She said, taking another bite out of an orange Spain had picked for her earlier that day.
Vinci simply stared at the beast he was drawing. Dropping the charcoal he hugged his knees. “It was horrific, I don’t think any war I’ve fought was worse then what had happened then.”
“You were hallucinating, it’s a side-effect of the anti-depressants you take,” The Sicilian read off of the bottle of pills “It wasn’t real,”
“How do you know that?!” Vinci snapped, glaring at the surprised girl, “….sorry, I’m not feeling like myself,” he apologized, his amber-brown eyes softening as he looked back down at the almost unnaturally lifelike drawing. Sicily sighed looking away from her older brother who sat forelornly staring at the drawing. She closed her eyes, listening to the sound of birds outside she could hear Leonardo muttering something to himself. She frowned, he was always talking to himself. “Sicily…..” Vinci grabbed his sister’s sleeve, giving it a slight tug he nodded towards the picture.
Sicily growled, rolling her eyes she looked at her brother “what.” She said flatly.
“Picture…” he stuttered, “look.” Sicily looked at the piece of paper on the table, she stumbled back-
“What the hell is that?!” she screamed, pointing at the writhing black picture. The thing looked bipedal with a long pointed tail and a long neck and head, it’s almost shapless black body convulsing as black bubbles of what looked like tar rose and popped before receding back into the creature. The thing staggered around before falling over and twitching on the page. She heard Vinci scream, looking over to her for help, his eyes were black- the glasses' lenses broken, the glass stuck in the black holes where his eyes would have been. Black blood or some unknown substance dribbled through the gapping holes in his eye sockets. His bottom jaw was missing- exposing an open throat and bloodstained teeth.
Sicily felt numb, her vision became blurred as she sunk to her knees. Why couldn’t she stand? Her heart felt like it would jump out of her chest as she closed her eyes- maybe this was what death was like. Maybe she would see Lorenzo.
No one noticed the boy standing behind them. His face an emotionless void.
I myself am not religious, but the country of Italy is very, so if I make any mistakes with religion blame me. Sorry. Here's the music:
|
|
|
Post by Carina Jones on Jan 24, 2012 9:57:54 GMT -5
O.o *glomps weaver and hides under blanket*
Music does make some of it more interesting/ creepy, but as I believe I've mentioned I think it's really good without it as well. Really well written and freaky.
|
|
|
Post by Lorenzo da Firenze (Vargas) on Jan 24, 2012 10:00:13 GMT -5
Scared yet? > Thank you so much! I love your reviews, they've been really helpful.
|
|