Nonsense and Metaphors

[Lilam]

As the title suggests, this will be the new dump site for my brain scribbles. Some of will be old stuff I'm just now getting around to posting and some will be new. And some of it will be random metaphors just for funzies.

Link to my old thread: The Lilam Zone

[Lilam]

**Something I wrote for Bloodeye's Souleater RP that I never had a chance to post because it died to death. I really enjoyed this character though... maybe a little too much.**

After a perilous, ridiculously long trek through the treacherous desert in which nothing of importance actually happened and absolutely nothing worth mentioning occurred, our directionally challenged heroes found themselves lost, once again, in the heart of Death City.

All a-twitter with possibly illegal amounts of excitement and curiosity, Mauly raced about the cobbled streets in dizzying circles, breaking every road rule known to man in the process.

“Oooo look, May-May!” she waved at Mason as she smooshed her face into shop windows now all fogged up with Mauly breath. “A toy store!”

Face and glass nearly melded into one as Mauly pressed against the window harder, the glass cracking under the pressure while she tried to get a closer look inside the tiny gun and knife shop. “They have knife sets, just like the ones I had as a kid! We used to play knife-tag for hours… well, until someone got hurt and went home crying. It’s only fun until someone nicks a major artery--”

Her eyes suddenly doubled in size, her pointer finger tapping the glass with the force of a metal baseball bat. “Awwww, look at that one, May-May! Its so shiiiiiny and shaaaaarp and serraaaaaated. I bet you could castrate a fly with that thing!”

Peeling her face off the glass, she swung her head in Mason’s direction, looking up at him like a lovesick puppy.

“Can we go ask the nice creepy knife man if we can have that super cute knife so I can castrate a fly with it? I would so very much like to castrate a fly with it, I really really really would, indeed I would so very much!”

--Awkward Transition!--

“I like Death City. It’s a lot bigger than my village and has so many more interesting people and things to do! They’re just so many bright and shiny things it makes my brain want to explode! What should we do first, May-May? Quick! Don’t let the shiny-brighties explode my brain!”

With the imminent threat of spontaneous cerebral combustion looming over her, Mauly did not see the metal street lamp in her path until it was practically embedded in her skull. Her face bounced off the pole with a metallic ping, leaving her cross-eyed and reeling backwards. She reached out and grabbed the lamp for balance, staring at it a long moment while her eyes straightened back to normal.

Then, the purple-haired warrior announced with a dramatic flailing of arms, “I know what I want to do now! When I high-fived this metal candle with my face, I remembered the first thing you should do when you arrive in a new area. Mark your territory! As our first free act of heroism here in Death City, with no charge necessary, we shall protect the good people of this city with our Golden Warrior Streams of Might!”

She began tugging at her battleskirt and trying to shimmy out of her woolies. Suddenly, something small, furry, and fast darted in and out of her vision, taking precedence over everything.

“Oooo, wassat over there? Let’s hit it until it bleeds with red happiness!”

Before her companion could get in a word edgewise, she was already sprinting off, chasing after the fuzzy thing that needed the tender, heartwarming love only her balled up fist could provide. Mauly followed the creature into an alleyway, blindly turning the corner and careening into a solid wall of torsos. She windmilled and stumbled back before catching herself, only then realizing she had nearly mowed over a group of guys loitering about menacingly in the alley.

“Hey, girlie, what do ya' think you’re doin’?” one of the men asked, smoothing his leather jacket of Mauly’s face imprint.

Mauly tilted her head to get a better view down the length of the alley, watching forlornly as the cat scampered out of sight.

“I was trying to catch that cat so I could play with it. I like how they crunch when you pet them! So could you please move out of my way just a little?”

Leather jacket guy threw his boys a look before curling his lips into a jagged scowl. “What makes you think that you can just walk into our alley and start bossin’ us around, huh?”

Mauly’s face scrunched up in puzzlement. “This is your alley?”

“You blind or somethin’? Can’t you read graffiti?” the hoodlum sneered, pointing to the spray painted alley walls.

After a silent assessment of said graffiti, Mauly snorted with inappropriate laughter and covered her mouth with one hand to try to muffle her snickering.

“That’s how you mark your territory? That’s just so… stupid! You’re doing it wrong. Lemme’ show you how to do it the right way that isn’t stupid,” she chided, already fumbling with her battleskirt again.

[Lilam]

**I wrote this for something Bloodeye and I work working on. This was the very rough draft of a darker, alternative version of Korra's storyline from the Avatar the Last Airbender series. Didn't get very far before I ran out of creative juice.**

Three words inflicted a swift and merciless holocaust to the very quintessence of Korra’s existence, rendering her unable to escape the crushing gravity of her soul collapsing into ruin.

“I’m sorry, Korra,” Katara repeated, reaching out to offer strength and warmth to the Avatar who was withering before her eyes. Mindlessly, Korra took a step back. The sharp crunch of snow underfoot slammed her back to reality headfirst, everything suddenly blindingly white and out of focus. She took another step away from her mentor and hesitated on the ball of her foot, tethered in place by sharp eyes that had been whetted by age and experience. But there was a terrible lie lurking in that blue gaze and something in Korra viscerally wanted to get away.

Like a spooked animal, she turned and ran, putting as much distance as possible between her and the woman shouting her name. Korra ran deliriously and heedlessly until her legs felt like wooden blocks and her lungs smoldered with every breath. Her feet led her to the door of the hut she shared with her parents. It was blocked by two White Lotus sentries.

“Move,” gasped Korra.

She staggered forward but the two sentries remained rooted in place. The pair exchanged looks of unease before one spoke up.

“We were told not to let anyone pass until Katara—”

The man’s mouth was moving but his words were maggots trying to force their way into Korra’s ears.

“I said MOVE!” she roared, thrusting her foot into the ground and separating the two sentries with a wall of permafrost. Then, with far more force than finesse, the Avatar split the wall lengthwise, trapped each sentry in a cylinder pipe of frozen soil and with a violent shove, sent the duo steamrolling in opposite directions.

Free of obstacles, Korra moved closer and placed her palm on the hut’s door. The cold instantly bit her flesh, circulating its gelid poison into her veins. The fire pit, which kept the home warm and welcoming, had gone out. Korra pinched her eyes closed as her breathing began to accelerate. She gave the door a quick, firm knock. There were no sounds of scuffling feet, no sounds of any movement at all and no response.

Korra hit the door again, and again, and again, each time more frantic and more violent. Her chest was caving in from the suffocating pressure she wouldn’t release, wouldn’t acknowledge. Korra’s fist burst through the door in an eruption of wooden pieces and her foot followed seconds after, ripping the entire thing off its hinges. Taking the briefest of moments to disengage herself from the door and to heave it aside, the Avatar stepped into the hut.

They were beside the frozen fire pit, hollow husks in a room where everything was now cold and lifeless.
Korra’s legs crumbled and she was jerked to the ground. Her entire world capsized around her and with it came a loss of comprehension of things like colors, sounds, and sensations. She took dying guppy breaths as she continued to spiral and sink...

[Lilam]

**Some random metaphors I was planning on using for a story that I probably will never write.**

---

She fell like a dying sunset crashing into midnight. A brush stroke of burning heaven streaking across a plane of black glass.

**Couldn't decide which of the next three versions of the same line that I liked best (or rather disliked the least), so I included all of them, just 'cause.**

She was an eclipse; her beauty, detrimental.

OR

She eclipsed his senses; the detrimental effect of her beauty ruining his eyes and his world the longer his gaze remained her hostage.


OR

She was an eclipse; her beauty all the more detrimental the longer he refused to look away.

[Lilam]

**A little something I wrote for my "Death"/fallen angel character who I write about when the mood strikes.**

Death was his dominion, yet never his to claim. Sam had realized that far too late. Perhaps he had not wanted to believe, dared not to. Deep down, he was all too aware of the consequences of that admittance. The truth was supposed to set him free, yet all it did was bind him in shackles.

He wanted. He desired. Freedom. Paradise. Ana. Painful things, earthly things. They hurt far more than the chains that bound him. Far more than the swords that severed his wings. Those beautiful beings of light banished him to darkness, trapped him in a cold plane of emptiness. They wanted him to forget, to let go and find his way back to the light. But he held on to those wants and desires, holding fast to something very old and very fragile that he could repress but never truly forget. He sank into that darkness in slow degrees, oblivion anchoring him down to depths with no beginning or end. On his knees with hands outstretched, pleading for Hell and finding only himself.

Dying once simply wasn’t enough.