Calling all Demigods! discussion
Character Diaries
>
Aby-gails (FREGY!!!!)
date
newest »
newest »
message 1:
by
Shayla
(new)
Oct 11, 2010 06:13PM
Sebf? Nice
reply
|
flag
Mod
Mod
Mood: Heart-broken
Post:
I’m writing this as I tend to my sisters, my sick, sick sisters. I’m sitting on a stool, since our beds are full. I joined so shortly ago, it feels like just..."
This is actually good, sis.
*pledge, not pledges.
:)
Mod
I go to bed at 10/. I have skool tomorrow.
Phoebe: That'll take a lot of screwdrivers! Um, I mean viva revolution!!
OMFG ~LOVE~ HAI TANJA!! RP IN ZEUS?!!
THIS IS MY BLURB.
Hi. I’m Vonne Benedettoo. I am eighteen years old, and I live in Sudbury, England. My father is Samuel Benedettoo, a shop owner for fabrics. My mother is Eris, the goddess of spite. I suppose one could say that I take after her, but that’s only when I lose that temper of mine. Otherwise, it’s complete rubbish. Anyway, during the summer, I go to a summer camp, called Camp Half-Blood in America, Long Island for demigods, like me.
The week before I was due to go to camp, a police car pulls up. I am in our little house, washing the dishes. I sigh as I finish the dish I was working on, and I wipe my hands on the nearby mustard yellow dish-towel.
I can see the officer climb up the uneven stone stairs. He knocks on the door smartly with his knuckles on to the door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I run to answer the door, and I ignore the creak of the red door. I am standing face to face with a fairly large and plump man with a busy French moustache. How amusing, I think, A French moustache in England. I ignore the facial hair and I stare at his black eyes, wondering what to make out of him. “Good morning, Officer,” I say as I brush a stray golden lock behind my ear.
“Good morning, Miss Benedettoo,” he responds. “Dear me, I do hope that you are Miss Benedettoo—your father is a William Benedettoo? I smile faintly as I see the moustache move as he talks, but I try to ignore it.
“Yes sir, Vonne Benedetto. Would you like to come in?” I step aside so he can enter, but he simply shakes his head, “No thank you. Do you have a mother?”
I stiffen immediately, but I don’t lose my head. I choose my choice of words carefully, wording them out in side of my skull. “Sir, I believe that everyone does, but my own is separated. After I was born, sir, she left and my father has neither spoken to her, or even about her to her since.”
The officer pauses. “Well then, Miss, follow me.”
I sigh, but I grab my jacket, purse (it includes my phone, my plane ticket, money, and my car keys), the house keys and my back-pack which turns into a killer black boomerang when opened.
I step out of the house and I close the door behind us and sat down in the front passenger sear of the cop-car.
“Your father was drunk driving.”
I sigh again and I close my eyes, which I believe are blue. “Is he alright?” My gaze drops over to him, daring him to look at me and feel my sorrow, my anger.
He is unable to look at me. I am secretly amused, but I don’t show anything. However, after a moment’s of silence, he is forced to answer. He gives me one bloody word. “Yes.”
Thanks for nothing, Officer.
Despite of what I was thinking, I inhale deeply. “Are we going to visit him?”
“Yes.” Great. Another one-word reply. “Also, are you capable of staying alone?”
I scoff slightly at the thought that I would be unable to take care of myself. I could do better than that. So, I nod immediately. “But in a week, I’m going to a camp, in America. I have my ticket, and everything.”
The officer raises a busy eyebrow, and he pulls into the jail parking.
I climb out of the car, and I walk towards the entrance, my high-heeled boots clicking against the hard concrete floor.
He leads the way, showing others his licence. I snigger each time he does so. License to Kill.
We finally stop at a large cell, with my father sitting on the bed.
“Father?”
He looks up at once and runs towards the gates, a wide smile on his face. “Vonne,” he whispers.
I look at him, my eyes full of sorrow. However, I felt myself get slightly angry. I’m not going to let any loving or smoochy words get past him. In order to avoid those, I go straight to the point.
“I’m going to stay alone for a week, then go to camp,” I respond, grasping his hand tightly through the bars. “I’ll try to keep you posted,” I vow, looking probably the most solemn that I have ever been.
Then the smooch and the all yucky and love thing cam by.
I’m sorry I failed in my mission.
“Good luck! I love you!”
I look back at him, unable to cry. I don’t cry. I usually don’t have that kind of emotion. The officer puts a firm hand on my shoulder and takes me towards the car, my head still towards my father.
“Come on,” the officer grunts at me. My eyes flash dangerously.
“Let go of me,” I hiss, and I throw off his hand. “Go away!” The officer lets go of my shoulder, and I feel the bottle of temper that I usually have a cap on crack open. Next thing I know it, my boomerang is at his throat and the officer is on the ground, stuttering.
I come to my senses, and I fold the boomerang, back on to its original form. Without saying a thing, I march past him, all eyes on me.
I catch the bus and go home.
Then again, the only real home I’ve ever had was camp.
~***~***~
I’m in the airport, ready to catch the next taxi to get to camp. I shoulder my belongings, which consist of only a bag full of clothes; my purse; my money; my car keys; my house keys; my armour; a couple of photos and my backpack.
I thank the driver and give him cash before climbing out of the cab and running past a pine tree, which are the camps boundaries.
I smile at the others as they yell out greeting to me, but they flinch when I open my mouth to speak to them.
I shiver as I feel a prick climbs up my back. I try to shake it away, but it seems to simply stay in the back of my head. I walk into my cabin, and climb into my top bunk.
I had a feeling that I was going to betray all of my friends. What am I talking about? I don’t have any.
Bloody spite.
I close my eyes, still thinking about my betrayal. Great. Now I’ve got yet another bloody thing to think about.
Hi. I’m Vonne Benedettoo. I am eighteen years old, and I live in Sudbury, England. My father is Samuel Benedettoo, a shop owner for fabrics. My mother is Eris, the goddess of spite. I suppose one could say that I take after her, but that’s only when I lose that temper of mine. Otherwise, it’s complete rubbish. Anyway, during the summer, I go to a summer camp, called Camp Half-Blood in America, Long Island for demigods, like me.
The week before I was due to go to camp, a police car pulls up. I am in our little house, washing the dishes. I sigh as I finish the dish I was working on, and I wipe my hands on the nearby mustard yellow dish-towel.
I can see the officer climb up the uneven stone stairs. He knocks on the door smartly with his knuckles on to the door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I run to answer the door, and I ignore the creak of the red door. I am standing face to face with a fairly large and plump man with a busy French moustache. How amusing, I think, A French moustache in England. I ignore the facial hair and I stare at his black eyes, wondering what to make out of him. “Good morning, Officer,” I say as I brush a stray golden lock behind my ear.
“Good morning, Miss Benedettoo,” he responds. “Dear me, I do hope that you are Miss Benedettoo—your father is a William Benedettoo? I smile faintly as I see the moustache move as he talks, but I try to ignore it.
“Yes sir, Vonne Benedetto. Would you like to come in?” I step aside so he can enter, but he simply shakes his head, “No thank you. Do you have a mother?”
I stiffen immediately, but I don’t lose my head. I choose my choice of words carefully, wording them out in side of my skull. “Sir, I believe that everyone does, but my own is separated. After I was born, sir, she left and my father has neither spoken to her, or even about her to her since.”
The officer pauses. “Well then, Miss, follow me.”
I sigh, but I grab my jacket, purse (it includes my phone, my plane ticket, money, and my car keys), the house keys and my back-pack which turns into a killer black boomerang when opened.
I step out of the house and I close the door behind us and sat down in the front passenger sear of the cop-car.
“Your father was drunk driving.”
I sigh again and I close my eyes, which I believe are blue. “Is he alright?” My gaze drops over to him, daring him to look at me and feel my sorrow, my anger.
He is unable to look at me. I am secretly amused, but I don’t show anything. However, after a moment’s of silence, he is forced to answer. He gives me one bloody word. “Yes.”
Thanks for nothing, Officer.
Despite of what I was thinking, I inhale deeply. “Are we going to visit him?”
“Yes.” Great. Another one-word reply. “Also, are you capable of staying alone?”
I scoff slightly at the thought that I would be unable to take care of myself. I could do better than that. So, I nod immediately. “But in a week, I’m going to a camp, in America. I have my ticket, and everything.”
The officer raises a busy eyebrow, and he pulls into the jail parking.
I climb out of the car, and I walk towards the entrance, my high-heeled boots clicking against the hard concrete floor.
He leads the way, showing others his licence. I snigger each time he does so. License to Kill.
We finally stop at a large cell, with my father sitting on the bed.
“Father?”
He looks up at once and runs towards the gates, a wide smile on his face. “Vonne,” he whispers.
I look at him, my eyes full of sorrow. However, I felt myself get slightly angry. I’m not going to let any loving or smoochy words get past him. In order to avoid those, I go straight to the point.
“I’m going to stay alone for a week, then go to camp,” I respond, grasping his hand tightly through the bars. “I’ll try to keep you posted,” I vow, looking probably the most solemn that I have ever been.
Then the smooch and the all yucky and love thing cam by.
I’m sorry I failed in my mission.
“Good luck! I love you!”
I look back at him, unable to cry. I don’t cry. I usually don’t have that kind of emotion. The officer puts a firm hand on my shoulder and takes me towards the car, my head still towards my father.
“Come on,” the officer grunts at me. My eyes flash dangerously.
“Let go of me,” I hiss, and I throw off his hand. “Go away!” The officer lets go of my shoulder, and I feel the bottle of temper that I usually have a cap on crack open. Next thing I know it, my boomerang is at his throat and the officer is on the ground, stuttering.
I come to my senses, and I fold the boomerang, back on to its original form. Without saying a thing, I march past him, all eyes on me.
I catch the bus and go home.
Then again, the only real home I’ve ever had was camp.
~***~***~
I’m in the airport, ready to catch the next taxi to get to camp. I shoulder my belongings, which consist of only a bag full of clothes; my purse; my money; my car keys; my house keys; my armour; a couple of photos and my backpack.
I thank the driver and give him cash before climbing out of the cab and running past a pine tree, which are the camps boundaries.
I smile at the others as they yell out greeting to me, but they flinch when I open my mouth to speak to them.
I shiver as I feel a prick climbs up my back. I try to shake it away, but it seems to simply stay in the back of my head. I walk into my cabin, and climb into my top bunk.
I had a feeling that I was going to betray all of my friends. What am I talking about? I don’t have any.
Bloody spite.
I close my eyes, still thinking about my betrayal. Great. Now I’ve got yet another bloody thing to think about.
XD Love it!!!!
As a friend.
Mod
