BlindedForTruth

The first time one of Siren’s children said it, she thought it was a joke, a daydream. The tenth time, she thought it was a fairy tale, a legend. But then an eleventh, and a twelfth claimed it to be true, and the smallest details were the same, and she knew it had to be real-stories didn’t work that way, things always changed with retellings. So by the time the thirteenth had claimed it true, she knew she had to meet this mysterious woman they all spoke of, the one whom all the sharks spoke of when they’d been caught-tagged-released by a particular group in the area. The woman with gentle words and a soothing touch and a sur

Full Name:  Ruby White Pronunciation of their name(first, middle/middle names and last):  Rue-bee White Meaning of their full name:  N/A Why did their parents name them this?:  Currently unknown Why did you, their creator name them this?: Honestly? I rolled for a name in CAS and got Ruby, liked it and made it her name. Title(Mr./Mrs./Lord/Lady/Sir/): Miss Nickname(s): Scars Why they have that as a nickname: Someone said it without thinking at one point, and she found it almost amusing, and let it stick. Do they like their nicknames?:  Yes, if it's said in a friendly manner and not an insulting manner. Sex: Female Rac

She didn't remember arriving at the entrance of the alleyway,how she got there or why, but she remembered stumbling into it, slamming into the wall in such a way that the cry of pain was hidden by the bricks and the sounds of the road, her limp form sliding down to a crumpled mess on the ground. Just before the darkness consumed her sight and her memory, she heard metal against metal, something wooden hitting a wall, a soft muttered sound and a flash of red in a shaft of light. But before any of it could process in her mind as anything more then random sounds and images, she'd blacked out. -- She was vaguely aware of something soft encasing h

Most children have hazy memories of toddling down hallways, tumbling about in the grass. But not Raine. Her earliest memories were of being held up to see the waves below, the rocking of the ship that lulled her to sleep. By the time she was five, her father had begun to joke that she wasn't flesh and blood-not like most. He'd say she was born from the salty air and the harsh waters, the sunlight at dawn and the stars at midnight. He nicknamed her his 'Mischievious Mermaid'', letting her come on almost every trip and teaching her everything she could ever need to know about ships. It wasn't until her tenth birthday that her brother started to

She promised she'd never leave. And when she makes a promise, she always keeps it. No matter what. -- She tried to let him know she was there in little ways. She'd sit on the bed next to him when he was sleeping, brushing her hand across his cheek or his forehead when he seemed to be plagued by a nightmare, leaning down to kiss him lightly when he was sitting alone somewhere, lacing her fingers with his when he walked somewhere. But he never seemed to notice. He never seemed to know that he was right there and she could see how much her death was hurting him and she'd do anything to let him know that she was there with him all the time. It wa

She didn't realize she was dead until after she opened her eyes. But that's the middle of this story, or perhaps it's the end. And with a story of her sort, one should never begin with the end. To be honest,though, she doesn't remember clearly how it began. She remembers a man-or perhaps it was a woman? She feels like it must have been a woman, she's always felt nervous around men (hasn't she?) and wouldn't get into a car with a man she didn't know-offered her a ride,and since she was cold and soaked from the midnight rain that had hit and made her want to hide and wait until it was too late to catch the bus home, claiming that that they wer

She spins. When there's a face at the door, pressed to the iron bars that hold her in, she spins, one foot in front of the other, balancing on her toes and keeping her eyes up, never daring to see the ragged, bloody things that she knows are her feet, the metallic chomping of the shackle that follows her every move, ready to chomp down and hold her here forever if she pauses for even a heartbeat in her spinning, twirling, leaping madness. Three years is a long time to spin without pause. But she knows it's a better life then to be in his prison, shackled down and locked away again, underground and far from all water, trotted out and fro

To be Perfectly Honest, the feeling of being even slightly normal wasn't why she stayed. Instead, it was the swish of the skirts she wore, soft fabric and slippery silks against her bones, the freedom of knee-length dresses that swished and puffed out in the wind-created by twirling or from the weather,it mattered not. It was the man who had the strength and bearing to snap her in half with one hand wrapped around her waist, a gruff voice that could speak so harshly-but instead, he showered her with hugs and laughter, light teasing comments and fingers that danced across her ribs from the moment he realized how much it made her laugh, made