12-08-2015, 08:57 PM
Jade pursues the dirty rotten planet stealer around the widespread assembly of seats, mindful of the others in the audience who are still viewing the ballet performance on-stage. The surface of the moon beyond the arrangement of seats is pock-marked with craters steeped in gritty shadow, and a faint glimmer of moon dust kicks up under her feet as she races after the fellow who has so deftly pilfered her most prized of possessions.
With quick, measured footsteps that have all the prowl and lankiness to them as an ink-stippled leopard, the figure running ahead of her disappears backstage behind the velvety plume of an overhanging curtain. Jade ducks behind the curtain as well, into the stuffy and dimly-lit private wing of the lunar auditorium. Her snowy white dog ears graze the satin-smooth fabric as it ripples back into place, the briefly disturbed gloss of midnight black drapery smoothing over once more.
Pausing to catch her breath with huddled shoulders and a sense of rising panic scintillating in her breast, Jade turns her chin upwards to see that the thief has stopped only a few paces away, the satchel that bears her planets clutched firmly in his grasp. He glances over his shoulder at the Frogon performers, indecisively shuffling away from the enraged Witch but not exactly favoring the alternative.
Jade advances on him, sparking all over with green-yellow sizzle-pops of energy, the electrical charge causing her hair to rise as the ruffled nape of a wolf might when it is about to lock jaws with some other fearsome beast.
She wags a finger at him, teeth bared and her ruby red slippers striking severely against the floor. “You sneak! Give me my planets back right now, pal, and maybe I’ll reconsider kicking your ass!”
The thief before her assumes a sullen, arrogant expression, standing both passive and rigid, head tilting exactly in ratio to the speed of Jade’s footsteps. He knows that he will not be easily caught. Ah, but you will have to catch me first!
As Jade barrels forward, intending to gain momentum one step at a time, he is suddenly gone— quicker than thought, faster than any plans of escape which might have appeared in her mind in the very next instant.
A chain slithers around her ankle and in a single, swift movement sends Jade crashing into the ground with a startled bark. Whirling around violently, similar to a spitting wild cat wrapped up in the coils of a snake like in one of her grandfather’s old hunting yarns, her fist swings out in a glancing blow that just barely scrapes against the side of his jaw. The unshaven stubble there scratches against her knuckles like razor wire, but he is thumped backwards by the hit.
The chain loosens and Jade regains ground, scrabbling to her feet against the smooth, marbled floor that is just a touch cold. She hisses as her ankle smarts against throbbing quivers of pain.
Her opponent has disappeared once again. The young Witch panics, whirling around with her lips twisted and eyes glistening from the fiery hot eddy of thwarted fury stinging around their edges, and then with a sudden, impulsive jolt, she comes to a halt. Jade’s eyes widen, looking much like twin springtide green moons behind the large lenses of her glasses.
Oh, the impudence of this scoundrel! Out across the stage, which is wide and flat and gleams with the reflective light of a thousand kaleidoscopically interwoven stars, five quartets of dancers effortlessly sweep into smooth dips and bows, subtle and chaste flicks of their wrists heightening their movements as their arched feet skim across the cosmically resplendent platform.
The Frogons, as unsavory in appearance and character as they are with their prickly, amphibious faces and squashed noses, have accentuated their costumes flawlessly, and it is almost a dream to look upon them as the curled ribbons affixed at their waists glisten languorously with each dizzying twirl. They dance, wholly oblivious to the impostor dodging expertly around their fluctuating bodies that glisten with sweat and muscled exertion.
This thief moves like a dancer, gracefully placing his feet so as to give the impression of a swan’s elegantly curving neck. His coat is dark, dabbed here and there with shiny sparks of cool silver that glints in the low stage lighting. Against the dark backdrop of the lunar surface, he appears almost as some strange ephemeral vision. A building crescendo of flight marks every pirouette that he faultlessly executes, and Jade cannot ignore its call.
Now, Jade is not exactly one for grace, and she has never quite developed an appreciation for the gentle pluck of harp strings or that sudden, thunderous raindrop of ivory keys being struck. She is all jazzy swings, ecstatic be-bops, randy whistles, zazzle-zangs, and the enthusiastic movements of a besotted red-breasted robin in the springtime— she delights in spontaneity, the joy of being alive; whoops, ho-hums and echoes resounding all throughout the radiant and rosy harmonic countryside. She cannot hope to match this level of finesse, this impeccable sense of style and blue-tinted passion rising to fever pitch.
Still, she wastes no time in leaping into the fray with an energetic bound, the dark plumes of her dress flowing about her grey and white-striped stockings as burgeoning water does around rocks in a stream. Her red-slippered feet kick out instinctively as she drifts off the gleaming floor, hands thrown out to catch herself against empty air, but she recovers quickly enough to sway out of bounds of a dancer who whirls past in a silent gust. Which is totally silly, because the moon doesn’t even have wind!
With a buoyant flounce of her starry skirts, Jade swoops across the stage towards the thief, her movements mirrored by the murky silhouette swimming across the floor beneath her. Once her feet touch gently upon the ground again she is within just a few strides of him, just a little closer now—
With quick, measured footsteps that have all the prowl and lankiness to them as an ink-stippled leopard, the figure running ahead of her disappears backstage behind the velvety plume of an overhanging curtain. Jade ducks behind the curtain as well, into the stuffy and dimly-lit private wing of the lunar auditorium. Her snowy white dog ears graze the satin-smooth fabric as it ripples back into place, the briefly disturbed gloss of midnight black drapery smoothing over once more.
Pausing to catch her breath with huddled shoulders and a sense of rising panic scintillating in her breast, Jade turns her chin upwards to see that the thief has stopped only a few paces away, the satchel that bears her planets clutched firmly in his grasp. He glances over his shoulder at the Frogon performers, indecisively shuffling away from the enraged Witch but not exactly favoring the alternative.
Jade advances on him, sparking all over with green-yellow sizzle-pops of energy, the electrical charge causing her hair to rise as the ruffled nape of a wolf might when it is about to lock jaws with some other fearsome beast.
She wags a finger at him, teeth bared and her ruby red slippers striking severely against the floor. “You sneak! Give me my planets back right now, pal, and maybe I’ll reconsider kicking your ass!”
The thief before her assumes a sullen, arrogant expression, standing both passive and rigid, head tilting exactly in ratio to the speed of Jade’s footsteps. He knows that he will not be easily caught. Ah, but you will have to catch me first!
As Jade barrels forward, intending to gain momentum one step at a time, he is suddenly gone— quicker than thought, faster than any plans of escape which might have appeared in her mind in the very next instant.
A chain slithers around her ankle and in a single, swift movement sends Jade crashing into the ground with a startled bark. Whirling around violently, similar to a spitting wild cat wrapped up in the coils of a snake like in one of her grandfather’s old hunting yarns, her fist swings out in a glancing blow that just barely scrapes against the side of his jaw. The unshaven stubble there scratches against her knuckles like razor wire, but he is thumped backwards by the hit.
The chain loosens and Jade regains ground, scrabbling to her feet against the smooth, marbled floor that is just a touch cold. She hisses as her ankle smarts against throbbing quivers of pain.
Her opponent has disappeared once again. The young Witch panics, whirling around with her lips twisted and eyes glistening from the fiery hot eddy of thwarted fury stinging around their edges, and then with a sudden, impulsive jolt, she comes to a halt. Jade’s eyes widen, looking much like twin springtide green moons behind the large lenses of her glasses.
Oh, the impudence of this scoundrel! Out across the stage, which is wide and flat and gleams with the reflective light of a thousand kaleidoscopically interwoven stars, five quartets of dancers effortlessly sweep into smooth dips and bows, subtle and chaste flicks of their wrists heightening their movements as their arched feet skim across the cosmically resplendent platform.
The Frogons, as unsavory in appearance and character as they are with their prickly, amphibious faces and squashed noses, have accentuated their costumes flawlessly, and it is almost a dream to look upon them as the curled ribbons affixed at their waists glisten languorously with each dizzying twirl. They dance, wholly oblivious to the impostor dodging expertly around their fluctuating bodies that glisten with sweat and muscled exertion.
This thief moves like a dancer, gracefully placing his feet so as to give the impression of a swan’s elegantly curving neck. His coat is dark, dabbed here and there with shiny sparks of cool silver that glints in the low stage lighting. Against the dark backdrop of the lunar surface, he appears almost as some strange ephemeral vision. A building crescendo of flight marks every pirouette that he faultlessly executes, and Jade cannot ignore its call.
Now, Jade is not exactly one for grace, and she has never quite developed an appreciation for the gentle pluck of harp strings or that sudden, thunderous raindrop of ivory keys being struck. She is all jazzy swings, ecstatic be-bops, randy whistles, zazzle-zangs, and the enthusiastic movements of a besotted red-breasted robin in the springtime— she delights in spontaneity, the joy of being alive; whoops, ho-hums and echoes resounding all throughout the radiant and rosy harmonic countryside. She cannot hope to match this level of finesse, this impeccable sense of style and blue-tinted passion rising to fever pitch.
Still, she wastes no time in leaping into the fray with an energetic bound, the dark plumes of her dress flowing about her grey and white-striped stockings as burgeoning water does around rocks in a stream. Her red-slippered feet kick out instinctively as she drifts off the gleaming floor, hands thrown out to catch herself against empty air, but she recovers quickly enough to sway out of bounds of a dancer who whirls past in a silent gust. Which is totally silly, because the moon doesn’t even have wind!
With a buoyant flounce of her starry skirts, Jade swoops across the stage towards the thief, her movements mirrored by the murky silhouette swimming across the floor beneath her. Once her feet touch gently upon the ground again she is within just a few strides of him, just a little closer now—
Quote:1000 words exactly on wordcounter.net
Jade basically used her Physical Strength to punch Demetri.
Demetri used his Chains to trip Jade up. Yeep.
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Gamzee Makara Wrote:S’aight. After all, dogs have a tendency to motherfuckin’ bite.