Shy's quaint country cottage

[ShyMystica]

Anti-Hancock Idea

Name: Pandora Doe (previous name Elysia)
Age: 27-28 (actual age: immortal)
Notable features: Brilliant blue-green eyes, large scar on the back of head (causing retrograde amnesia - long term amnesia), night terrors/flashbacks
Other Details:
Pandora was a name she gave herself. The myths surrounding Pandora spoke to her deeply, and as such gave the name to herself...preferring the name over Jane Doe. She has spent the last 3-4 years in therapy trying to recover her memory after she was admitted to hospital with life-threatening injuries.

She is half a being...half a soul, half a mind, half a spirit. As such, she acts on intuition, constantly in search of something, someone, some unknown thing in hopes to complete herself. Her dreams and nightmares always consist of one man - the dream man.

At the time of the story she is working as a librarian, preferring the worlds within books to the reality. She watches the world; observing in silence, but quick to help. She is drawn to those in trouble, but often gets herself in danger's way in attempts to help. Yet, she also walks around with a constant sense of paranoia. Not voices or the like; but the sixth sense that she is constantly being watched, hunted, in danger. Her inner thoughts remain hidden, choosing to deliberately withhold them from her psychiatrist, since there is no point attempting to explain it.

Unbeknownst to her, she is an immortal. She was made as a pair thousands of years ago. Her immortal abilities rise when she is with her pair; her match, her partner. While apart, however, she is mortal; she is vulnerable to illness/injury, ages, etc. Her paranoia is legitimate; she is being hunted (by who, I don't know yet. Will work it out). Her and her pair are the last of their kind; all the others were killed.

Her dream man? Well...that is her pair. I am leaving this open as it isn't really my role to work out. The main thing is that he is looking for her, and finds her, just as all the fun action and bad guys come in.

Will work more on this later.

 

[ShyMystica]

 

[yeishia]

Looks up longingly at the picture above.

Shy can I please have this?

 

[ShyMystica]

Looks up longingly at the picture above.

Shy can I please have this?

Of course you can have it...it isn't mine to keep. I was just looking at Renaissance statues for homework, and this one caught my eye.

 

[yeishia]

Of course you can have it...it isn't mine to keep. I was just looking at Renaissance statues for homework, and this one caught my eye.

Thank you so very much *sneaks out blushing with it tucked under her arm.*

They really must stop reprinting statues of my dark angel and I in books without our permission. That particular one was crafted so very long ago.

'Immortal Love,' such a wonderful representation don't you think? *sighs*

Smiles happily taking it home where it belongs blowing a kiss to her beloved friend.

 

[ShyMystica]

*laughs softly at her dear friend...she was so cute with him, really.

With a final little chuckle, she makes her way to the kitchen. Hopping onto the marble bench-top, she picks a Reese's buttercup from the small bowl, and suckles on it slowly. The effects are instantaneous, a growling sigh leaving her lips as she falls to her back. Laying upon the bench-top, her mind drifts to the wicked things she could do with one of the heavenly candies...*

 

[Last_Rider]

You know, I might be interested in your anti-Hancock idea. It seems fun, plus you chose a pic of Elizabeth Banks, which is always a plus.

 

[ShyMystica]

You know, I might be interested in your anti-Hancock idea. It seems fun, plus you chose a pic of Elizabeth Banks, which is always a plus.

Oh? You want to write it with Yeishia? It screams you two...

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

Drive by hug for a sweet shy one...

 

[ShyMystica]

Random Inspiration Pics

 

[ShyMystica]

Drive by hug for a sweet shy one...

*envelopes the dear wolf in a sweet embrace, a shy kiss to her cheek*

Thank you sweet Luna.

 

[Light Ice]

He's here. In the cottage. A shadow in the corner, drink in hand, lingering at the table. Patience blending with intent. Less gentlemanly than most. Unyielding and unforgiving; save the solitary rose laid across the seat beside him.

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

*envelopes the dear wolf in a sweet embrace, a shy kiss to her cheek*

Thank you sweet Luna.

Anytime, sweetness...

Have a good night.

A nod to a shadow and gone...slipping out....

 

[ShyMystica]

*a soft, delicate smile and a shy wave as the wolf leaves. Yet she still felt a presence.

Emerald eyes scan around the cottage, eyebrow perked in curiousness...strangely enough the picture she just found seems fitting for the situation...

"Little, lost Alice jumping down the rabbit hole"

With a tentative step, she follows the soft clink of ice in a glass...*

 

[Light Ice]

He heard her.

Slight. Soft. There was something in the way she moved. Songlike. Dreamlike. IT was enough to provoke him to press from her table, draw up to his full height, and round as she came into the room. Space was precious here, quaint and comfortable sometimes could be considered cramped if a man came to mind it. He didn't. Instead, he reached for her and let his strong fingers slide across the soft of her hip.

Words always abandoned him in these moments. Looking at her, like this, they failed him again. She was beautiful. Softly-featured. Her eyes bright, expressive, mysterious. The contrast between them couldn't be any more distinct, any easier to see. He had never been a traditionally handsome man. She was classically stunning. A looker. And the warmth of her under his fingers inspired feelings that words would never be able to color.

 

[Last_Rider]

Under many circumstances I would do this with Yeishia, but she and I have two threads going already. I was wondering if you would care to write with me.

 

[ShyMystica]

*a strong, determined touch at her hip had her spinning on her heels, her eyes scanning him in slight surprise...she hadn't expected many people to pass through these walls, and he was one...a pleasant surprise none-the-less.

A shy smile creeps to her lips, cheeks blushing softly, a cautionary hand falling to rest on his chest as she studies him intriguingly/ He had always caught her interest; his demeanor a curious mystery she had often sat back and pondered. He seemed to be an open man of many secrets; an alluring contradiction if she openly admitted it...

Finally her eyes dart away, spotting the rose upon the chair. Her eyes find his once more, playful mirth twinkling in her orbs...*

And what, may I ask, have I done to deserve your presence?

 

[Light Ice]

"Deserve."

She'd said. He repeated it now. Smiling, unable to help himself, because it humored him to think of it that way. From what he knew of the woman named Shy, she deserved many things. A rose was a reasonable gift. There'd been many things he'd considered himself but a gift, something to be earned, had never been one of them. He happened to people. Like a storm. Like a bad day. He wasn't earned. He just happened.

He happened to himself everyday.

Still, her fingers spread across his chest and warmed him. They were thin, delicate, but surely capable. The heat they brought spread quickly, surged through him, provoked his own fingers to glide their way across the arch of her rounded hip and across the hollow at the small of her back. He hardened in the dim light, ached in the heat of the space between them.

Deserve, she'd said. He leaned into her, closed the distance, until the hard line of his body began to lean into the soft curve of hers. Breasts, pillowing low on his chest. She was shorter. Softer. Smaller. Feminine, slight, beautiful. A thousand words that didn't capture the moment or matter once they touched, once sparks of sensation began their damning arch across his rugged frame. He leaned into her. Close. Until the stubble of his jawline brushed her cheek, his nose dragging against her soft skin. He didn't deserve the kiss he bent to steal.

But it happened.

 

[ShyMystica]

*his boldness brought an impressed smile to her lips. The warmth of his body closing the distance seemingly made him move in slow-motion, the electricity almost tangible as his jaw grazed against the soft skin of her cheek.

Eyes drifting shut, her breath quickening against the hardness of his chest, her every sense absorbed on him as he boldly took her lips, stealing a kiss she seemed willingly to give.

Her reaction surprised her, her body softening into his, her fingertips curling to grip his shirt as she returned the kiss softly, timidly, shyly. She wasn't one naturally give such intimate things away so freely...

She didn't bother to finish the thought, instead pulling away, her eyes fluttering open to gaze into his as if seeking his soul...

"The ways of the mysterious dark man..."

She thought to herself...*

 

[ShyMystica]

Under many circumstances I would do this with Yeishia, but she and I have two threads going already. I was wondering if you would care to write with me.

Oh Rider, that is more than a gracious invitation. But the idea I have reserved for a dear friend of mine who seems willing and perhaps silly enough to help me get over my writer's block. I'm sorry...once I get some confidence back, do you mind if I PM you with an invitation to write another story?

 

[Light Ice]

Focused. Intent. These were things he understood of himself. He expressed them as his hand spread hot across the small of her back, fingers drawing her further into him amidst the dim light of the cottage kitchen. It had always been a sensual place for him. The heart of a home. A place where people shed the finery and circumstance of their lives and paid it back in conversation and feeling. He held her there, close to him, let her eyes walk the hard lines of his face. The wolfish angles. The dark stubble.

He kissed her again. Unable, unwilling, to restrain himself. The taste of her lips coming as his other hand lifted, slid up the outside of a sleek thigh until the gorgeous arch of it gave way to the swell of her rounded backside. Pressure. Time. They'd sharpened him into the ghost of a man he was now. Moving like an echo, he pressed her back until the counter touched her. Trapping her there.

And he kissed her. Again. And again. The soft crush of lips - the sweet tangle of tongues, coming together as he fell into the warmth of her and gathered it against him. They spread warmth, growing, in the crisp country air. They melded together against the pressure of his intentions. But always there existed a contrast. Her breasts pillowing against his chest through the fabric that bound them. The shape of her backside's cheek beneath his fingers. Feminine. The heat of his prick, trapped between them through coarse denim, hard and unyielding. A brick against her flat belly. Aching.

 

[Last_Rider]

Not at all Shy, you are always welcome to PM me

 

[yeishia]

Shy your writing is simply divine

 

[ShyMystica]

*He harboured a man’s strength. Powerful, unyielding, undeniable. Even in the slightest touches upon the dip of lower-back, his power radiated with his intent as he pulled her closer. She was a mere wisp compared to him; his hardened body towering her slight frame. But it wasn’t this that caused a thrill to resonate deep in her core. No. It was the focused, purposeful, determined glint to his gaze...a hunter’s gaze. And she? Prey? Game? Open territory to claim? She would never know; but the thrill that bolted through her as he captured her willing body between him and the countertop behind her, it was enough to awaken a suppressed darkness she had often neglected, and only the rare few had ever seen...the true nature of a woman.

Again his lips seized hers, her trembling hands cupping his jaw and pulling him deeper. And again her reaction shocked her; her soft hips rolling gently into his as the darkened flames of her need began to ignite within her. She was acting on instinct, primal and carnal. How he brought it out within her, she wouldn’t waste the time to ponder it. A slender, toned thigh brushed up against his side, curling around his muscled leg. She was nothing but a reaction to his cause, his own intent.

A lust-filled gasp was lost to his hungry kiss, her lips tearing away as she gulped breathlessly for air. Her eyes fluttered open, yet there was nothing left of the shy, timid woman that first greeted him in this room. Her emerald gaze burning deeply into his own as her fingertips fell from his jaw to pull at the hem of his shirt.

A game...yes, it was a game man and woman had fought since the beginning of time. The game of power, the game of lust... a soft glint within her orbs challenged him. If he wanted to play, then let it begin...*

 

[ShyMystica]

An exercise in reverse roles...anti-hitcock idea.

He violently awoke and frantically gasped for air, his body trembled as excruciating bolts of pain agonizingly ripped through his body. The memory of her eyes burned into his sight…her sea-emerald eyes pleading, begging…filled with so much pain.

Her voice echoed through his head.

“Please? Hear me…please?”

Her desperate whisper rang in his ears. The piercing plea rendered him paralyzed, tearing the last pieces of his soul in a direction he couldn’t recognize. The pain filled his powerful body yet he was unable to move. It absorbed him, his mind screamed in torture unable to hide from her plea. In that instant her eyes were gone, the pain resolving to numbness. Jerking to sit upright he gazed wearily, his mind tried to comprehend his surroundings.

A delicate wind blew open a silk curtain, revealing the twilight horizon of the city. Moonbeams highlighted the room; an old bookcase stood in the corner as ancient books overflowed onto the wingback leather chair beside it. An antique wood chest stood adjacent, adorned with newly lit candles and a wash basin steaming with warm water. Satin sheets canopied over him, tied gracefully to the tops of the four-post bed in which he sat. His body slowly regained its feeling, his long pale fingers grasping at the dark satin sheets below him. Laying back he slowly regained his breath, his composure slowly restored as he realised he was in his own chamber.

Again she haunted his dreams. Just as every night since their parting, her soul visited him, the same message repeating itself, the pain intensifying as each full moon passed. Images of their last time he held her plastered his mind. The pleading eyes as they captured her, the blood pooling from her lips as they slammed the silver baton to the back of her head; her pain-filled whispers… Even in his waking hours he could hear it humming in the back of his mind, a voice he could never forget even if he tried.