{[When There Are //Clouds\\ in the Sky]} [P&G]

Clouds slightly obscure the sun's bright rays, emitting the feel of depression, or something close. Gravel finding its way into high-heeled shoes, you grimace in pain for the up-teenth time, and bend over, fingers searching desperately for the loose bit of earth. Fingers finally closing over it, you hastily pull it out, anger forcing your arm back, and, with a quick jab, you throw the rock, where its landing goes unnoticed among grasses growing over a foot high. And, even though you try and force them back, the tears spill over anyway, reducing the scenery around you into nothing but a blurred haze.

All-in-all it had been a terribly emotional afternoon, starting with your employer's agressive sexual assualts in your own workplace, ending with the damned pebble. And soon, your face had been redced to a mascara-smeared mess, and you have sunk to your knees, your shoulders racked with heavy sobs, your voice thick as you shout curses at the sky, at whatever Higher Being must be living up there.

Almost as if on cue, your head has been filled with illegible whispers and rantings, as if being spoken in a foreign tongue. And, though your uncertainty spoke leagues of its own, you know It will show itself all in due time, in which it will present you with either a whimsical riddle or an equally-confusing premonition, either or explaining a small occurance in the future. A sense of tingling starts in your nervous system, and quickly overcomes your entire body. It isn't long before it reaches your brain, in which it stops, and roots itself. You can feel It taking over your own body, as if you have become a physical host to some alien intruder, which, in some ways, is true. Your mouth is wrenched open, and a voice that is not yours glides from your rolling tongue like a mystic ballet.

"A mother, a woman as barren as the ground of the desert, seduced by the promise of provocative fantasies. Whispered words of encouragement from the man she had always seen as a father. Infertile from the beginning, yet blessed with childbirth.

A young girl, wild as a pond is tame, is birthed into the world, and taken out a minute later. Yet, by some miracle, she has been ressurected. And, though her heart remains weak, she is allowed to live, along with the highest-ranking. She, alone, can save the world from the evils overcoming it.

Both women walk along the fringe of society, both struggling with life's many issues. Both are yet to receive an ill surprise."

It isn't until moments later you feel the Being has made its way from your body, your mind finally under the control of you and you only. And, though you have gone through this a numerous amount of times, your breath comes fast, your chest rising and falling faster than usual. And it isn't the fact that you have just been taken over by something you cannot define, though this is unsettling, it's what the Thing had said.

"A mother, a woman as a barren as the ground of the desert,..." This line could have matched any other infertile woman in the country, though it was the second fragment that sent chills through your bones. "...seduced by the promise of provocative fantasies. Whispered words of encouragement from the man she had always seen as a father." The phrase stirs your memories, and faintly you remember a conversation with your mother, a woman six years dead.

She had come home to find you and the boy you had called the love of your life in a romantic entanglement on your bed, and only after physically seperating you, she had ordered the man from her house, leaving you alone on the matress, pulse racing and hormones raging. Sitting beside you, she had gently explained the value of virginity, hinting heavily at a monumental happening in her own childhood. When asking, she had looked at you with such greif in her eyes you had been unsure wether or not you had said the right thing. But, after a breif hesitation, she had delved into the tragic story of a girl, only sixteen years, who had been taken under the arm of a good-natured stranger. When finishing, you had been reduced to tears, swearing up and down you would never find love in the form of a man's body.

Rape, is what she had called it.

Having been too involved in your own musings, you hadn't noticed the sound of footsteps, the shadow of an approaching figure. And, even where you crouched in the dirt, you could tell this stranger held you in a sense of curiousity, of interest. Or, at least it looked this way. Again, feeling fear coil tight in your chest, or stomach, of wherever the hell else you felt such strong emotions, you once again flash back to that conversation with your mother, in which you had learned the woman's deepest and darkest secrets. Men were not to be trusted. The one standing before you could very well be the one who had taken advantage of your mother. The very one who had caused her such pain.

Rage overpowering common sense, you jump to your feet, adrenaline pushing you forward, closer and closer to the figure. Stopping, you quickly raise a leg, jerking the shoe from your right foot. Raising the newfound weapon above your head, you swing hard. Or, as hard as your current condition allows.

{[Attacks Nathaniel [Pika]]}
Heel (Knife): [dice=200+2000]
Stabbed in Thigh; 8.5

The heel buries itself into his leg, as a normal knife would. You feel immense gratitude toward fashionable footwear, and you feel the first pull of insanity as a frantic giggling erupts from your mouth, followed by a quiet, yet audible, "Suck it, bitch."


Rules:
--Set in a barren land, gravel, sands, hard-packed dirts. No weapons to be found except casual things you would find on a normal person.
--HP is 40
--Turn Delay will be used
--Stick to posting order
--Every post must be at least 300 words ;)
--Have fun!