Post by Akito on Nov 17, 2009 7:05:07 GMT -5
Ever written a prose or post that you, at least, very much liked and feared you wouldn't be able to replicate in future? Let me see them =]
I've had a few times like that myself where I've been struck by such inspiration that, once it's over, I feel like I've lost something important. Sadly, I can't find most of them but there is one audition I made for Marluxia at KHRPF at one point that really stood out for me. It wasn't really that well written, but the premise and heart was there.
The Accomplice
"It's all going as planned, eh Marly-kins?" A yellow haired nymph quite happily pranced into a private room within Castle Oblivion reserved only for the abode's comely master. Only she dared ever call him by that ridiculous alias. Only she.
"No, something is amiss," The Graceful Assassin replied, from where he comfortably sat on a bland, pure white sofa; even with his legs crossed and his arms folded. "That Number VIII..."
"Who? Axel? Don't worry your pretty little head. Someone like him is harmless!" Larxene reassured her accomplice, her hand patting his back hard. She stopped after he rocked his head back and glared at her with those intense eyes. "I invited him to join us; don't you have any faith in me?" She asked with her best attempt at precocious innocence.
"A foolish question," Marluxia replied, "Of course not," His was a harsh tone which should've completely crushed Larxene's feelings had she any. It was natural, an expected reply; the Graceful Assassin trusted nothing but his own abilities. Acting offended, the Savage Nymph flung her arms into the air as if in surrender and collapsed onto the floor, at the foot of the sofa. She leaned against Marluxia's legs and lifted the hem of his cloak; allowing her to play with his exposed toes. What? You expected him to wear shoes all the time?
Whilst Larxene ran her fingers through his toes, Marluxia pondered his situation. Sora was progressing up Castle Oblivion as he had anticipated and yet there was still many unpredictable elements. That Namine girl for one was developing unnecessary hesitation; for a girl with no heart, she certainly had too much of a conscience. Marluxia would not allow her sudden pangs of guilt to derail his plans; he had worked too long, too hard to get this far. The end of his dream was at hand...
"Tell me, what do you think of flowers, Larxene?" He asked suddenly, interrupting his own thoughts when no other had dared to before him. Larxene looked up at him slightly bemused, it was an odd question considering the Assassin's own affiliations. Were she a considerate girl, she might've chosen a wiser answer; but the Savage Nymph had never been known for her delicacy, "Hmm...They're pretty to look at, but otherwise they're just a useless waste of space,"
Marluxia allowed himself a small chuckle before replying, "Maybe you're right,"
*~*~*~*
The Puppet on Strings
"You have behaved very poorly, Namine," Marluxia's words were like poison, choking the very air with a subtle malevolence. The Memory Witch clutched at the fabric of her dress, making balls of them in her small hands as if to brace herself. She sat in her white wooden chair, vulnerable from all sides; her face downcast as if she had just committed the most grave of sins. Even though Axel had given her that chance to escape, she had been brought back so easily. Was it futile then to try and escape this man's grasp?
"Do you truly understand your place?" Marluxia had circled behind her, his venerable presence bearing down like an old oak tree. She dared not turn around for fear of meeting his eyes; there was an unmatched cruelty in those beautiful eyes of his. It is said that every rose had its thorns, but it was Marluxia that truly gave that proverb meaning.
"I-I'm sor-" She couldn't finish her sentence. He had kicked the chair out from under her. Namine dropped to the floor violently; her delicate body bruised easily and having fallen face first, it was her face that suffered the brunt of the force. Her lips bled from where she had bitten it by mistake.
"Your 'hero' could never love a conniving and deceitful witch like you," The Graceful Assassin had knelt down on one knee as Namine sprawled on the floor. She feared were she to get back up, she would just be knocked down again; so she stayed put. A wise decision all in all. Yet, despite this, it was his words that had cut her most deeply. She did not want to admit it, but Marluxia was right; he had always been right.
"Then you have no choice, right? You have to make him love you," He brought out the worse in her. It was wrong, but he made her want to do it so badly. Marluxia's words gave her a nearly absolute despair with a single string of hope, a string which he held firmly. It was worse than if he had given her nothing but misery.
Namine looked up at the pink-haired devil, at the face of a nightmare so beautiful it could surely only exist in dreams. She looked up and nodded meekly in submission. Then, all of the sudden, the nightmare ended and the face of her desirable tormentor eased. A soft smile formed at the edges of his lips and tactfully, Marluxia lifted the fallen Namine into a princess cradle. He held her in his arms and gently, he leaned his head down and licked her bleeding lips tenderly to stop the blood flow. "That's a good girl," He whispered to her and Namine could not help but feel her heart, a heart that should not exist, skip a beat. This was how Marluxia made her feel despite everything, like she was a beloved toy of his; one to be used to its fullest and then discarded. She hated the fact she relied so heavily on this false affection from a loveless being and yet...where was her 'hero' now? If he didn't come quick, she would lose herself entirely to this heartless man...
~*~*~
The Natural Enemy
"Who are you?" A scatter of flowers appeared from behind the red-haired man and from it, Marluxia stepped forward. "You've killed Zexion,"
Axel stopped and stood himself in the white corridor without turning around. He then shrugged his shoulders and callously said, "Nah, it wasn't me. It was that Riku look alike,"
Marluxia regarded Number VIII coldly, he had to congratulate this man for becoming such a thorn in his side. Zexion's death was counter-productive; Marluxia had other uses for those senior members. Even the neophyte of the XIII, in all his strategic genius, could not predict Axel's movements, nor could he discern what the red head wanted. However, all that no longer mattered; it would end here.
"I'm guessing you're here to finish what Sora didn't, Graceful Assassin?" Axel sneered, to which Marluxia replied with a smile more frightening than a thousand deaths; it was a smile Marluxia gave only to those he had sentenced to death. There would be no absolution.
"You should already know that I cannot leave alone those who would stand in my way," Marluxia's words rung true, for the sake of his dream he would crush all obstacles beneath his heel. And why wouldn't he? He was gifted, he was diligent and he had an invincible sense of purpose. Even were his body to return to dust, Marluxia's sheer will would not rest. This was the kind of motivation that drove him. Nothing Axel, Sora or even the Superior himself had could compare.
"Oh man, can't a guy get a break around here?" Axel complained audibly at the inconvenience. Fire spun violently around in the palms of his hands and two chakrams, his signature weapons, took form. Axel spun around and launched himself at Marluxia, who had already raised his scythe.
"Then allow me to put you to rest for the last time," With these parting words, their weapons met in a torrential collision of sparks and steel...
It finally ended. Had they been fighting for minutes or hours? Neither could tell. Blood gushed from multiple wounds on both of them. Axel's left arm had been eaten away by potent acids at many locations whilst burns saturated all of Marluxia's back. They stood at a standstill, neither willing to surrender for both had a strong reason to live on. Then, suddenly, Axel's knees buckled and he collapsed. Axel struggled to get back up yet his body would not listen, it had long past its limit. This was it, the end. Marluxia stood before his fallen foe, standing with proud posture despite his numerous wounds.
"R-Roxas..." Axel meekly raised his remaining left hand, as if to reach for something, or rather someone, who was now lost to him forever. Marluxia stood over the Flurry of Dancing Flames with an expression of neither joy nor sadness; merely content.
"I see now..." It was clear what Axel's purpose had been and in a way, his sheer determination had come close to Marluxia's own. It was a shame not all dreams could be fulfilled; this was where theirs would be different. "It is unfortunate, but you can never meet him again," With that, a pink scythe was swung down; impaling Axel through the chest. As the previous Number VIII evaporated into darkness, Marluxia looked on with apathy.
"You were only a pebble in my path, but you succeeded in making me stumble. For that, I will not forget you," Castle Oblivion's ruler then too vanished in a scattering of petals; he had an appointment to keep with a certain Keyblade master.
I've had a few times like that myself where I've been struck by such inspiration that, once it's over, I feel like I've lost something important. Sadly, I can't find most of them but there is one audition I made for Marluxia at KHRPF at one point that really stood out for me. It wasn't really that well written, but the premise and heart was there.
The Accomplice
"It's all going as planned, eh Marly-kins?" A yellow haired nymph quite happily pranced into a private room within Castle Oblivion reserved only for the abode's comely master. Only she dared ever call him by that ridiculous alias. Only she.
"No, something is amiss," The Graceful Assassin replied, from where he comfortably sat on a bland, pure white sofa; even with his legs crossed and his arms folded. "That Number VIII..."
"Who? Axel? Don't worry your pretty little head. Someone like him is harmless!" Larxene reassured her accomplice, her hand patting his back hard. She stopped after he rocked his head back and glared at her with those intense eyes. "I invited him to join us; don't you have any faith in me?" She asked with her best attempt at precocious innocence.
"A foolish question," Marluxia replied, "Of course not," His was a harsh tone which should've completely crushed Larxene's feelings had she any. It was natural, an expected reply; the Graceful Assassin trusted nothing but his own abilities. Acting offended, the Savage Nymph flung her arms into the air as if in surrender and collapsed onto the floor, at the foot of the sofa. She leaned against Marluxia's legs and lifted the hem of his cloak; allowing her to play with his exposed toes. What? You expected him to wear shoes all the time?
Whilst Larxene ran her fingers through his toes, Marluxia pondered his situation. Sora was progressing up Castle Oblivion as he had anticipated and yet there was still many unpredictable elements. That Namine girl for one was developing unnecessary hesitation; for a girl with no heart, she certainly had too much of a conscience. Marluxia would not allow her sudden pangs of guilt to derail his plans; he had worked too long, too hard to get this far. The end of his dream was at hand...
"Tell me, what do you think of flowers, Larxene?" He asked suddenly, interrupting his own thoughts when no other had dared to before him. Larxene looked up at him slightly bemused, it was an odd question considering the Assassin's own affiliations. Were she a considerate girl, she might've chosen a wiser answer; but the Savage Nymph had never been known for her delicacy, "Hmm...They're pretty to look at, but otherwise they're just a useless waste of space,"
Marluxia allowed himself a small chuckle before replying, "Maybe you're right,"
*~*~*~*
The Puppet on Strings
"You have behaved very poorly, Namine," Marluxia's words were like poison, choking the very air with a subtle malevolence. The Memory Witch clutched at the fabric of her dress, making balls of them in her small hands as if to brace herself. She sat in her white wooden chair, vulnerable from all sides; her face downcast as if she had just committed the most grave of sins. Even though Axel had given her that chance to escape, she had been brought back so easily. Was it futile then to try and escape this man's grasp?
"Do you truly understand your place?" Marluxia had circled behind her, his venerable presence bearing down like an old oak tree. She dared not turn around for fear of meeting his eyes; there was an unmatched cruelty in those beautiful eyes of his. It is said that every rose had its thorns, but it was Marluxia that truly gave that proverb meaning.
"I-I'm sor-" She couldn't finish her sentence. He had kicked the chair out from under her. Namine dropped to the floor violently; her delicate body bruised easily and having fallen face first, it was her face that suffered the brunt of the force. Her lips bled from where she had bitten it by mistake.
"Your 'hero' could never love a conniving and deceitful witch like you," The Graceful Assassin had knelt down on one knee as Namine sprawled on the floor. She feared were she to get back up, she would just be knocked down again; so she stayed put. A wise decision all in all. Yet, despite this, it was his words that had cut her most deeply. She did not want to admit it, but Marluxia was right; he had always been right.
"Then you have no choice, right? You have to make him love you," He brought out the worse in her. It was wrong, but he made her want to do it so badly. Marluxia's words gave her a nearly absolute despair with a single string of hope, a string which he held firmly. It was worse than if he had given her nothing but misery.
Namine looked up at the pink-haired devil, at the face of a nightmare so beautiful it could surely only exist in dreams. She looked up and nodded meekly in submission. Then, all of the sudden, the nightmare ended and the face of her desirable tormentor eased. A soft smile formed at the edges of his lips and tactfully, Marluxia lifted the fallen Namine into a princess cradle. He held her in his arms and gently, he leaned his head down and licked her bleeding lips tenderly to stop the blood flow. "That's a good girl," He whispered to her and Namine could not help but feel her heart, a heart that should not exist, skip a beat. This was how Marluxia made her feel despite everything, like she was a beloved toy of his; one to be used to its fullest and then discarded. She hated the fact she relied so heavily on this false affection from a loveless being and yet...where was her 'hero' now? If he didn't come quick, she would lose herself entirely to this heartless man...
~*~*~
The Natural Enemy
"Who are you?" A scatter of flowers appeared from behind the red-haired man and from it, Marluxia stepped forward. "You've killed Zexion,"
Axel stopped and stood himself in the white corridor without turning around. He then shrugged his shoulders and callously said, "Nah, it wasn't me. It was that Riku look alike,"
Marluxia regarded Number VIII coldly, he had to congratulate this man for becoming such a thorn in his side. Zexion's death was counter-productive; Marluxia had other uses for those senior members. Even the neophyte of the XIII, in all his strategic genius, could not predict Axel's movements, nor could he discern what the red head wanted. However, all that no longer mattered; it would end here.
"I'm guessing you're here to finish what Sora didn't, Graceful Assassin?" Axel sneered, to which Marluxia replied with a smile more frightening than a thousand deaths; it was a smile Marluxia gave only to those he had sentenced to death. There would be no absolution.
"You should already know that I cannot leave alone those who would stand in my way," Marluxia's words rung true, for the sake of his dream he would crush all obstacles beneath his heel. And why wouldn't he? He was gifted, he was diligent and he had an invincible sense of purpose. Even were his body to return to dust, Marluxia's sheer will would not rest. This was the kind of motivation that drove him. Nothing Axel, Sora or even the Superior himself had could compare.
"Oh man, can't a guy get a break around here?" Axel complained audibly at the inconvenience. Fire spun violently around in the palms of his hands and two chakrams, his signature weapons, took form. Axel spun around and launched himself at Marluxia, who had already raised his scythe.
"Then allow me to put you to rest for the last time," With these parting words, their weapons met in a torrential collision of sparks and steel...
It finally ended. Had they been fighting for minutes or hours? Neither could tell. Blood gushed from multiple wounds on both of them. Axel's left arm had been eaten away by potent acids at many locations whilst burns saturated all of Marluxia's back. They stood at a standstill, neither willing to surrender for both had a strong reason to live on. Then, suddenly, Axel's knees buckled and he collapsed. Axel struggled to get back up yet his body would not listen, it had long past its limit. This was it, the end. Marluxia stood before his fallen foe, standing with proud posture despite his numerous wounds.
"R-Roxas..." Axel meekly raised his remaining left hand, as if to reach for something, or rather someone, who was now lost to him forever. Marluxia stood over the Flurry of Dancing Flames with an expression of neither joy nor sadness; merely content.
"I see now..." It was clear what Axel's purpose had been and in a way, his sheer determination had come close to Marluxia's own. It was a shame not all dreams could be fulfilled; this was where theirs would be different. "It is unfortunate, but you can never meet him again," With that, a pink scythe was swung down; impaling Axel through the chest. As the previous Number VIII evaporated into darkness, Marluxia looked on with apathy.
"You were only a pebble in my path, but you succeeded in making me stumble. For that, I will not forget you," Castle Oblivion's ruler then too vanished in a scattering of petals; he had an appointment to keep with a certain Keyblade master.
I did post in shades of grey if anyone even remembers that lmao