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Vanilla Skye; Harmony/Skye Jones 9/8/2007
Topic Started: Feb 7 2008, 06:55 PM (521 Views)
Harmony
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Gogz once fucked a ginger
[ *  *  * ]
The full moon late at night shone brightly through the open bedroom window and reflected off the glass of water on the bedside table, lighting up the room as the gentle summertime breeze drifts through the gap, causing the curtains to softly flutter into the air. The scene looked so calm, so serene, and so innocent until the bed comes into sight, the crimson red linen playing host to evil personified, complete with blonde ringlets and pale skin. A peacefully slumbering Skye Jones looked a far cry from the person she was when awake and walking the earth; selfish, ruthless, twisted and vengeful. Sin incarnate lies there, emitting a gentle snore while she dozes as a flash of reflected moonlight shines across her face, strong enough to be noticed, but weak enough not to wake her, and the presence of another in the room becomes obvious, the gentle scent of Chanel’s Coco Mademoiselle in the air confirming who it could be…

Karma, in human form.

The bright reflection of the celestial body in the crystal clear fluid disappears as a silhouette steps out from the shadows, blocking the beams of light from outside in the night sky. The feminine curves and slender legs of Harmony’s form stands hovering over the bed like a predator over its prey, her expression blank but her eyes full of hate, dressed head to toe in black so as to blend into her surroundings, her normally flowing brown curls scraped tightly back into a bun, and her hands encased in black leather gloves, protecting her digits from the large kitchen knife in her grasp, loosely holding it as she slowly spins it while holding the handle by the end with the point of the blade pressed against her fingertip. Her gaze never leaving the evil in front of her, she softly begins to speak, loud enough to be heard, but quietly enough not to wake the slumbering beast, the tone somewhat haunting yet empty.


Harmony: So this is what it comes down to?

How long Harmony had been there was of no one’s knowledge but her own, and how long she would remain there was a mystery, but one thing was a definite: the impact of her visit would be obvious.

Harmony: My life has never been the same since meeting you. I was quite happy to go about my life without worry or care until YOU came along.

The word “you” is almost spat out as Harmony gentle crouches down next to the bed and fully grasps of the handle of the knife in one hand then takes hold of a thick tress of Skye’s blonde hair and absently twirls it in the gloved fingers of her free hand.

Harmony: Pain, anguish, torment, death … all because of you. Jimmy never could quite understand why something so beautiful can be so nefarious and twisted.

The docile snore continues to escape from Skye’s lips as Harmony takes the tress of hair and separates it away from the rest before flicking the blade of the kitchen knife upwards, slicing through the blonde strands close to the roots, removing it from Skye’s scalp and holding it in her hand, playing with it through her fingers, watching, entranced as the locks intertwined themselves around her fingers until she clamps her fingers down, gripping them tightly in her hand and snapping herself back to reality. She looks down at Skye, who hasn’t stirred since her arrival, up and down her slender body cocooned in the crimson linen before laying the blade of the knife flat on her body at the top of her chest and tracing along the contours of her body with it, around her full breasts and along her toned torso.

Harmony: But I do. Who knows, if you weren’t so cold and dead inside, maybe we could have had something more … intimate.

With her lips curling into a seductive yet macabre smirk, Harmony leans close into Skye’s face, so close she could feel her nemesis’s breath on her face, and reaches up, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face before closing right in and delicately pressing her full lips against Skye’s, soft enough not to wake her but hard enough to leave a lipstick mark there, lingering for a few seconds before pulling away, smiling as she spots the soft pink of her own lipstick imprinted on Skye’s lips.

Harmony: I always have had a soft spot for a pretty face. But then looks are deceiving and you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. I hate using the same old clichés, but if it works, why waste it?

Her eyes still ablaze with hate, Harmony stands up, her face returning to expressionless as she goes back to absently playing with the knife in her hands, the strands of Skye’s hair still wrapped around her digits, but her voice taking a now much harder tone.

Harmony: All the evil in my life can be traced back to you, and what does it stem from? A title belt, an inanimate object of all things! But it runs much deeper now, it’s about more than just a belt, it’s about being better, and you went and made it personal by bringing the innocents into it.

Her expression hardens as she glances to the bedside table and spots a photograph in a silver frame, of a girl not much older that Faith was now, the family resemblance between her and Skye somewhat striking. Harmony knew in the pit of her stomach that must been Lena, Skye’s older sister, and reaching a hand out, she gently lays the photograph flat onto the table.

Harmony: She shouldn’t be witness to this. You made this personal Skye; you brought those I care about most into a battle that’s not theirs to fight. Not only have you hurt me, but you’ve hurt and tormented them too, and what did they ever do to you other than love me? For that sin, there’s the ultimate price to pay. I have to protect them; I have to make the hurt and the anguish stop; I have to avenge them.

Harmony freezes as the snoozing beast stirs, not daring to move as Skye fidgets in the sheets, finally resting laid on her back, one arm to the side and one arm raised up, her hand next to her face on the pillow. Sin itself continued to look harmless and peaceful, in restful slumber she laid there, and the anger began to well up inside Harmony’s stomach, her face slowly starting to fill with hate and rage.

Harmony: And what’s the one way to stop pain? Remove the cause, of course.

She shuffles as close to the bed as she can, and with the lock of Skye’s hair still twisted around her fingers, Harmony wraps both her hands around the handle of the kitchen knife, the blade pointing downwards and her eyes full of resentment and spite, but with an air of placid to her demeanour.

Harmony: I’m the tourniquet to stop the bleeding …

In one steady movement, Harmony lifts the knife up above Skye, the slumbering gargoyle still unaware of her presence.

Harmony: I’m the analgesia to stop the pain.

Her eyes widen and with one sharp thrust, Harmony drives the knife towards towards her nemesis, the glint of intention ever present in her eyes, but she stops the knife millimetres before it plunges into Skye’s chest and heart, gasping for air and her heart pounding as the adrenaline flows through her veins.

Harmony: But then that would make me just like you, and I’ll NEVER be like you.

She raises the knife up and away from Skye, taking deep breaths to calm herself as she does, freezing once more as the blonde Beelzebub stirs in her slumber, rolling onto her side and settling into sleep again, leaving a space at one end of her pillow.

Now calmer and composed, Harmony untwines Skye’s lock of hair from around her fingers and lays it down in the space on the pillow before taking the point of the knife and placing it on the middle of the hair, then applying enough pressure, Harmony pushes the blade through the hair and the pillow, leaving it stood proudly in the pillow, visible to anyone with the power to see.

Leaving the sign of her visit there, Harmony makes her way to Skye’s vanity table, quietly riffling through her make up bag until she finds the lipstick she wants before pulling the lid off and twisting the base, making the colour poke out of the end, and writing on the mirror with it, standing there for a few minutes as she scribes, watching Skye sleep in the reflection of the mirror, blissfully unaware of anything that’s happened.

She takes a step back as she finishes, admiring her work …

[size=6]"He who controls others may be powerful, but he who has mastered himself is mightier still." - Lao Tzu. I could have done, but I didn't. See you at Immortals, bitch.[/size]

Proud of the writing, she takes the lipstick and applies a coating of the ruby red colour to her lips before leaning into the mirror and pressing her lips against it, pulling away and leaving the imprint of her lips against the glass then replacing the lid to the tube, she leaves it standing in the middle of the tidy dresser, out of place enough to realise a presence has been there.

With her actions complete, Harmony quietly makes her way back over to the window and perches on the ledge, swinging one of her long slender legs out of the window before taking a glance back at Skye, still sleeping soundly swathed in her crimson bedsheets.


Harmony: So near, yet so far. See you on Sunday.

Swinging her other leg out of the room, Harmony perches herself on the outside window ledge before grabbing out to the trellis work next to the window and climbing down, leaving the window open as another sign of her visit. With her feet firmly back on terra firma, Harmony makes her way down the side of the house and quietly along the driveway to the road outside, making sure the coast is clear before she crosses the road and climbs into the waiting black hummer on the opposite side of the street, pulling the door closed shut behind her and leaning her head back against the head rest as she stops, taking a deep breath and shutting her eyes, the idea of what she almost did very fresh in her mind.

Kate: So did you spook her?

Harmony’s lips curl into a smile as she turns her head to face Kate in the driver’s seat, glad to see a friendly face.

Harmony: She slept through the whole thing.

??: So there’s hope for y’all as a ninja if wrestlin’ don’t work out?

The girls chuckle as Plus pipes up from the back, his leg up propped up on the seat, still hurting from the Featured Attraction attack at Meltdown. Harmony reaches a hand up and pulls at the elastic holding her hair back, removing it and allowing her curls to drop down over her shoulders once more.

Harmony: I’d say so. Thanks for helping me out you two. I couldn’t have done this on my own.

Plus: No worries, girl.

Kate: You know I’m here for you.

Plus: So what now y’all?

Harmony: Well I don’t know about you, but I could do with a drink.

Kate: Amen to that.

Plus: So what are y’alls waitin’ for? Drive girl!

The 3 of them laugh as Kate puts the Hummer in drive and takes them away from the scene of where murder where was almost committed, leaving a message to the personification of evil, that good would be coming to triumph at Immortals.
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Harmony
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Gogz once fucked a ginger
[ *  *  * ]
After a whirlwind tour through countries, time zones and cultures, Skye Jones had finally come back to the U.S., settling into her cozy Baltimore apartment. It was the first time in two months that she was able to relax and remain in solitude, not having to worry about catching planes or learning key phrases of a language to get around town. The only thing she had planned was to catch up on some much needed rest and make the two hundred mile drive to New York City first thing in the morning.

The time now read 4:02am, leaving her subdued for some six hours. A jolt of warm air brushed up against her cheek as she lay sprawled amongst a king sized bed. It made her wake prematurely, tossing the covers off of her petite frame. She changed positions, now onto her right side, hoping she’d fall right back into the dream she left.

But, of course, it wasn’t that easy. Not only was the room incredibly hot, but the breeze that awoke her kept reentering her room. She brushed it off at first, but even fifteen minutes later, it was still persistent. Irritated, she extends her hand over the vacant side of her bed, reaching for an alarm clock. Her arm feels a rush of pain extending from her wrist down to her forearm, making her jerk back instinctively. She pulls the stinging wound toward her body, trying to look at it through the darkness in the room. It was only a sliver, about two inches long, but it eliminated any chance she ever had of getting back to sleep. Curious as to what may have caused this, she carefully reaches over to the bedside again, this time, turning on a light which lay on the end table. Its illumination painted a much grislier picture than she had hoped. There, lying on the bed next to her was a knife, dug into the pillow which sat beside her. It was a large, but thin blade, almost like a butcher’s knife, with a grip that could withstand any amount of pressure.

Her hands fly up against her chest in horror. Never had she awoke to such a discovery. She wanted to run, to hide, to seek refuge, but fear paralyzed her, and so did the realization that whoever did this still might be lurking in her home. She brings her arms and legs close to her body, as if they could act as a shield to any wrong doing. Rocking back and forth, she breathes heavily, almost in a state of hyperventilation. It is then that she sees the open window staring at her from afar, the curtains dancing against the wind that was pouring inside her home – the same wind she felt touch her face. She never remembered opening up the window the night before, or anytime for that matter. She made it a point to keep all windows, doors and gates locked before she went to bed. This was obviously the intruder’s point of entry.

So desperately she wanted to get up and close the window, not allowing anyone else to invade her private space, but the growing feeling that the person was still here lingered with her. Looking around the room, everything began to take an eerie glow. She wondered where a person would hide in the house, trying to map out an escape route. Obviously no one was in the room with her, as her closet door was visibly empty and the only way out was via the door. The only other option the person had was to hide under the bed, an ghostly reminder of childhood fears.

The anxiety was now crippling her. Her mind told her to get the hell out, but her body would not respond accordingly. Using every amount of bravery her body contained, she reached over and grabbed the knife, and hopped over the edge of the bed, onto the floor. She winced, as the jump was a little louder than she hoped. Holding the knife outward, she scales the room, looking for any signs of movement. There was nothing out of the ordinary, except for a visible yellow stain on her bed. She moves in closer, looking downward, afraid to touch it. With the point of the knife, she moves it around, seeing that it is human hair – her hair. Huge clumps of ash blonde locks were discarded all around, making her touch her scalp in a frenzy. A modest chunk was missing from her scalp, and the length of various strands of hair had obviously been shortened. Even as she weeded through her remaining tresses, her hair fell out of its seams, getting caught between her fingers. A look of horror showed itself on her face, and as much as she wanted to scream, she didn’t. Instead, she buried her head into a pillow, throwing a miniature tantrum on the mattress.

After a moment of tears, rage and fear, she again rose out of the bed, clammy faced. Taking the knife back into her hands, she slowly scales the room once more, this time, more fear driven than ever. Every time a shadow moved on the wall, she’d shutter. If her curtains flapped against the wind, she’d immediately turn in their direction. Whenever she saw her moving reflection against various glass ornaments, her knife would point toward it. She was in a state of utter mental chaos, and it was beginning to take its toll.

Her search continued with a thud, as she slammed her hip into her vanity. She let out a howl, but quickly became silent, noticing something written on the mirror in bright red lipstick:

[size=6]"He who controls others may be powerful, but he who has mastered himself is mightier still." - Lao Tzu. I could have done, but I didn't. See you at Immortals, bitch.[/size]

The knife drops to the ground. She slowly walks backward, now more fearful than ever. It was Harmony, now showing her deadlier side. She had no idea that her foe was capable of this kind of psychological warfare, and the fact that she could have, would have killed her in her sleep drives her mind into more agony.

This was it. This was all she could handle. She rushes down the staircase, not thinking about who could be waiting at the bottom, but how to get out of the situation. Once down the stairs, she grabs her keys from the kitchen counter, and a suitcase she set aside for her trip in the morning.

Darting outside, she gets inside of her black Mercedes Benz, immediately starting it up. She backs out of her driveway and makes it out onto the main road, no longer feeling safe in a place she called home. There were no thoughts of revenge on her part, just a sense of desperation and a grim reminder that the taste of her own medicine was very bitter.
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