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 PostPosted: Sun Dec 19, 2010 12:50 am Reply with quote        
Something I wrote today. Supplementary reading, delves into Nephytis' characterization, as well as that of her three agents. This takes place at a Christmas party, held by Malygris on Christmas Eve. Enjoy.
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~December 24, Brostin Towers, 11:47 pm.~


Tonight had been the Christmas party that Malygris had been throwing for a number of years. It was a chance for Malygris and Nephytis to show off their philanthropic sides, and keep up their respective images as ludicrously wealthy citizens. The penthouse suite was now void of most party goers, the last of them trickling steadily out of the door. Malygris was toward the front with his agents, who were helping him send the last of the guests on their way whilst engaging in idle chatter.

Nephytis was in the living room, sitting in the loveseat and chatting with her three agents while idly sipping red wine. Both Nephytis and Malygris had brought their respective agents to the event. Malygris masquerading his as a group of “gifted students” from various schools in the area, that he dedicated his time and money to several hours a week. Nephytis acted as her agents' guardian; caring for children that were formerly doomed to the vicious cycle that is the American foster care system. Nephytis took another small sip oh her drink before setting it on the end table, sitting up and smiling warmly at her three girls. “Well, you ladies look a bit worn out. Did you have a good time tonight? Learn anything about Malygris' agents?”

Martha, who was the eldest at seventeen, combed a wisp of her ashen blond hair back behind her ear with her fingers. She was an, imposing, broad-shouldered girl, with sharp features accompanied by a narrow jaw, with a chin that drew to a near point before rounding out a bit. Her hair was light and short, cut into a pageboy, parted on the left with a decorative diamond-studded clip holding her bangs back. She dressed conservatively: a sleeveless, midnight-blue evening gown, and black dress shoes. Martha had come from a home of a drug addled mother and absent father. She and her grandmother took care of her mother together, until her grandmother passed away. By the time Nephytis had recruited her while out shopping at the grocery, Martha had spent literally the first twelve years of her life taking care of and supporting her mother's habit. Nephytis sensed a quiet rage from the the Martha, who had been her cashier. When Martha's mother attacked her in a drug fueled rage, and Martha killed her in self-defense, it was Nephytis who came to her aid. Stern, mannerly, responsible and ever obedient, Martha kept her partner, Rosa in check, making sure she never shirked her duties. Martha shook her head lightly in response to Nephytis' question. “No Mistress. Nothing of interest anyway. They were all kind of...ummm...quiet.”

“Tch, stuck-up she means.” The fair-skinned, fifteen year old Rosa spoke up, and Martha looked at her, a slightly incredulous look on her face.

“Rosa...that's not...”

“Oh please, don' try n' shuga coat it baby, them's was jus' rude. The skinny boy wouldn' even lookit us, prob'ly too 'pre-ock-yew-pied' with his girl, an' she was jus' as doom n' gloom as he was. Psh, they des-ERVE each other. An' th' hell was dat one other bitch's prob'lem? I'm tryin' to talk ta her, tryin' to start up a conver-goddamn-sation, an' she jus' fuggin' starin' at me, like I'm crazy. Den she get all mad when I call 'er 'man,' like I did som'n wrong when she the one dressin' like a dyke!”

“Rosalind Ann Maveaux, language,” Nephytis said sternly.

Rosa pursed her plump, pink lips out before rolling her light brown eyes to the rug on the floor, jutting her hip out to the side and muttering, “Yes'm.” She folded her arms across her ample bosom, breathing a sigh. Her loose chestnut curls were in an up-do, with a few loose strands hanging on her forehead and around her ears. Her face and nose were wide, and her eyes were large and round, framed by long, dark, curled lashes. Her figure was on the thicker side, a feature she exhibited proudly in her strapless, beige dress with the ampere waist. She wore a pendant with a gold chain and an amber stone that sat low on her chest, with matching earrings and heels. Rosa grew up an aggressive and violent child, specifically toward males, as a result of her mother bringing around various men and going through them like tissue. Rosa didn't know how to interpret it at the time, other than that when a man came around, they took her mother away from her, and they did things to Rosa's mother that made her cry out loudly. As she got older, it became clear to Rosa that her mother was dodging her duties as a parent to have sex with strangers instead of spending time with her daughter. Rosa coped the only way she knew how: by beating up the male peers that she associated with the men that took her mother from her. Nephytis found her at age fourteen, late one night on the playground sitting in a swing and weeping. Her arms and legs bruised and knuckles bloodied after she'd beaten one of her mother's boyfriends after he'd tried to take advantage of her, and her mother, instead of chasing the man out of her house, chased Rosa out instead, calling her a whore who was trying to “get in the way of her and her man.” Nephytis walked the girl home and asked Rosa if she really wanted to live in such a home, where her strength and emotional fortitude went unappreciated and unrewarded in favor of male strangers. Rosa packed her things that night, and was in officially in Nephytis' custody by the end of the month.


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MRGP On The Bound
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 PostPosted: Sun Dec 19, 2010 12:50 am Reply with quote        
After Rosa had stopped speaking, there was an awkward silence, before another younger, smaller girl spoke up in a tiny voice. “Cindi was nice.”

Both Martha and Rosa looked at each other and snickered, with Rosa commenting, “Yeah yeah, Cindi was awright.”

There was another beat, and then Martha spoke up, trying to stifle laughter. “Oh yes, Cindi...sweet as can be. Dumb as a post though, poor girl. Good thing she only spoke to Agnes too, I don't think she would've been able to keep up with anyone else...” As hard as Martha was trying to hold it together, Rosa's giggling did her in, and she began to laugh as well, before covering her mouth up and squeezing her eyes tight.

“Aw, bless 'er heart! ...Ooh boy.” As Rosa's laughter died down, she began to fan herself a bit, and sat down next to Nephytis putting an arm around her and laying her head on her shoulder. Nephytis chuckled lightly at the two girls' amusement, and rose an eyebrow when Rosa sat down next to her, wary of the girl's warm touch.

“Rosalind.”

Rosa rolled her eyes toward her mistress, grinning. “Yes'm?”

“You drank some of the eggnog, did you not?”

Rosa's face contorted in confusion at her mistress' words. “Mmmmm...no?”

Nephytis sighed, and pinched at the girl's chubby wrist, removing her hand from her shoulder and shooing Rosa off of the couch. She directed her attention to the small-voiced girl, Agnes, who was the youngest and newest of the group at ten. “Come sit, dearest.”
Agnes gave a small nod, and timidly approached the Misus woman and sat down next to her, barely making any movement on the cushion of the couch, welcoming the arm around her thin shoulders. Agnes was a quiet, somber child; pale with dark, straight, shoulder-length hair and bangs cut straight across her pronounced forehead. Her large, round glasses framed her two-toned eyes, one a muted, pale blue and the other brown. She wore a ruby red dress that Nephytis bought for her earlier that afternoon. Unlike the other two girls, Agnes had both of her parents: one a former astronomer and the other an occult historian. When the Magical Being phenomenon hit America, Agnes' parents were enraptured by the event, going across the country to study them, and tried to educate and enlighten Agnes of their pursuits when she was old enough. Needless to say, because they moved around so much, Agnes had little time to make any friends, for as soon as she found some, she was packed up and moved somewhere else. Her parents' obsession took precedent over her most of the time, and Agnes was often left in their trailer alone for days on end, without enough food. Agnes remembered more than once how she left the trailer and was brought back by police who found her wandering the surrounding woods alone, looking for her parents. Upon hearing reports about Nephytis “Nicole” Galgus being tied to a Magical event, the couple actively sought out Nephytis to take their daughter under their wing, and teach her of her “cosmic other-worldly wisdom and eons of hindsight.” Nephytis begrudgingly accepted the girl, if only because she was initially going to send the girl to child services. Agnes turned out to be extremely smart, and her natural intelligence would become a valuable asset to the team, when she was a little older. For now, she stayed with Nephytis and the other girls, studying and watching them train, until she was ready.

Nephytis gave the small girl a small squeeze, before looking at Malygris' and taking another sip of wine, her eyes peering above the rim of the glass, fixed upon him. He had just escorted the last of the party guests out to the elevator, and was saying goodbye to his charges whom he was shooing out of the door. Martha followed Nephytis' glance, taking note of where it fell, raising her eyebrows and giving a small “Hm.”

Nephytis' eyes darted back at the sound Martha made, narrowing them. She set the glass on the end-table again, not taking her eyes off of the girl. “What is it?”

“Something to...'discuss' with him Mistress?”

Nephytis blinked and cocked her head at Martha, surprised by the blatancy of her question. She shook her head, her long black ponytail swaying back and forth behind her, before glaring at Martha, her eyes adorned with a violet glow. “I do not entirely appreciate your tone, nor what it implies.”

Martha took in a small sharp breath of air and chills ran down her spine, but she managed to keep her cool, taking a few deep breaths. “...My apologies. We'll be heading back now.”

The glow faded from her eyes and Nephytis leaned into the arm of the seat, taking her glass off of the end-table and finishing off her glass. She then propped her legs up on the couch, eying her girls. “Good. And do be certain to feed the subs upon your return, they are not paying us to starve them.”

Rosa glanced at Martha. “Hm, wha? But we—Actchu'ally, I think Jimmy migh' be...”

“Let's go Rosa. Come along Agnes.” Martha took Agnes' hand and gave Nephytis a small bow and Rosa a small shove toward the door, stopping only to thank their host for a lovely evening. Soon the three were standing in the elevator. Marth stood in the center, eyes straight ahead at the door, while Rosa was slumped to the side near thepanel of buttons, keeping her balance on the railing. Agnes was toward the back of the elevator, her face and hand pressed against the glass, admiring the scenery as the small glass room descended into the lobby.

“Th' hell Marthuh, wha' wazzat for?”

“...I-I don't know. I just...” Martha looked down for the first time she had stepped in, looking up only when the ding alerted their arrival in the lobby. The three stepped out, Rosa and Martha both holding Agnes' hands as they stepped outside, and into the limo Nephytis had provided for them. They all rode in silence for awhile, before Rosa broke it.

“Wha'it, you think they fuggin' right now? Dat whachu thinkin'?”

Agnes' glanced over as soon as the sound waves carrying the word hit her ears, and Martha was too late to cover them. “Rosalind!”

“Wha'it? Jus' a queshion.”

“Language, Rosalind, language!”

“Oh. Righ'. Dat.” Rosa merely shrugged and looked back out the window. When Martha was sure Rosa wouldn't open her mouth again, she uncovered Agnes' ears, stroking her hair back into place. The rest of the ride was quiet, with all of the girls falling asleep on each other; Rosa on Martha's shoulder, and Agnes in her lap.


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MGRP Art Thread.
MRGP On The Bound
MGRP OTB OoC Thread
MGRP SHipping Thread
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 PostPosted: Tue Jun 14, 2011 4:07 am Reply with quote        
((MEET FORSA, SHE IS HORRID.

Wrote this on a whim, because I missed writing these chicks. Forsa is new, and very relevant, so I figured I ought to introduce her in some capacity. Loved writing her. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: As stated before, Forsa is horrid. SHe is foul and unlikeable and will speak as such. If you don't like foul mouth people, steer clear. SHe says some REALLY fucked up shit.))

~Tuesday, January 4th Galgus Mansion, 4:23 p.m.~

“Very good dearest, you’re doing well,” Nephytis cooed into the microphone, her voice creating a muffled echo in the room on the other side of the glass pane, where Agnes was suspended in the center of the room, her body pulsating with ethereal blue sparks. The lights and the room were dimmed, with the glow of Agnes’ body lighting the room with a steady consistent beat. “All right, now let it grow, slowly. Just like we practiced dear.”

The girl behind the glass nodded, and steadily held her arms out to her sides, and spaced her legs shoulder-width apart. The sparks became active, more frequent, and streams of electricity began to shoot across her body, expanding in size. Her hair began to stand on end, creating an odd halo around her head, and her bangs lifted, revealing a blue mark that was normally obscured.

Rosalind and Martha stood in the background, the former with her arms crossed, leaning back against the wall. Her hair was held up loosely by a scrunchie, with loose strands falling about her face. She wore a grey tanktop and denim overalls, with only one of the straps connected. Martha stood straight, quiet, fascinated. Her bangs tucked behind her ears at both sides, her short-sleeved blue jumper ironed. Both were barefoot, despite Nephytis’ explicit instructions to wear rubber soled shoes if they were going to play spectator to Agnes’ training sessions. Rosalind eyed the girl behind the glass, turning her head toward Martha.

“Wha’s dis fo’ again? I thought Agnes wasn’ gonna start her stuff ‘til she turned twel’.” Martha winced just so as Rosa’s speech dripped lazily off of her tongue. Martha, ever exacting, had tried her hardest to get Rosa to speak properly, if not for her own sake, for the sake of Martha and everyone else who had to listen to Rosa speak. Rosa’s every word carried the consistency of condensed milk, bittersweet, thick, and messy, with her every sentence rolling out of her mouth like an old carpet unfurling across the floor. Martha occasionally found it endearing, but more often than not it simply caused an uncomfortable sensation against her ears. Martha kept her eyes on Agnes, turning her head slightly to address Rosa’s concern, whispering.

“Yes, well, I believe Mistress mentioned something about Agnes progressing quicker than she thought, and decided she was ready for it.”

“Y’ thin’ dass true tho’?”

Martha blinked, and glanced at Rosa for a minute, slightly surprised at Rosa’s insinuation. “What do you mean?”

Rosa looked at Martha, turning her head to face the girl completely, her voice quieting. “C’mon now. You n’ I both know Agnes been’ havin’ night troubles dese pass few weeks. Y’ know. Wit’ d’ murders in happenin’ in Kent City n’ shit.”

Martha squeezed her eyes shut at the curse and faced Rosa, almost audibly hissing. “Firstly, Rosa, could you PLEASE not curse? And secondly, I hardly think Mistress would start this training without good re—“

“I CAN hear you girls, I am not deaf.” Nephytis turned slightly, looking just over her shoulder at the two girls, who were now looking away from each other, slightly embarrassed.

“Y-yes Mistress, we apologize.”

“…yeah. Sorry.”

Nephytis sighed, turning back to Agnes, whose body was becoming more and more obscured by the blue glow, which was growing ever larger. Nephytis pressed a button on the console, speaking into the mic again. “Now now dearest, no need to rush. Pace yourself.” The girl, now a mostly glowing blue figure, seemed to nod. Nephytis turned to back to the two girls behind her. “You two have seen enough for today I should think. Martha, go undo Frank’s suspensions and check him out. Rosa, let Jimmy out and check him out as well. If he resists, tell him that this wouldn’t have been an issue if he’d paid his tab. Make sure he is escorted off of the premises. Am I clear?”

The two girls nodded.

“Good. Dismissed.” Rosa nodded, Martha curtsied, and the two made their way out of the room and up the stairs, shutting the door behind them. Nephytis looked back to Agnes, whose blue aura was beginning to shake and wear thin. Nephytis pressed the button and spoke into the mic. “All right my dear, that’s enough. You’ve done well today.” Nephytis was barely halfway through the word enough when the aura and sparks flickered out, and Agnes dropped to the floor. Nephytis sighed, and rose from her chair, turning on all the lights and opening the door to the room.

Agnes lay on the floor, body limp, chest heaving, the mark on her forehead flickering behind her bangs. Her happy faced t-shirt had been burnt in half, and the jeans sizzled to cutoff shorts. Nephytis knelt down to the young girl’s body, resting a hand on her shoulder gently. “I told you to pace yourself dear. Why did you push.”

Anges didn’t answer, and merely rolled onto her back, her bangs spreading across her forehead. “Glass-,” she gasped for the words. “-es. Where,” another gasp, “-are my glasses?” Nephytis hiked an eyebrow and lifted her head, surveying the room, her long ponytail gliding over her shoulder. Her eyes caught side of some rosy frames lying idly in near the corner of the room. She gave a small smile, and held her hand toward them. The frames shook, before sliding across the floor and into Nephytis’ hand, which she then held out to Agnes. Agnes sat up; her breathing slowed, and nodded her thanks before taking her glasses and putting them on.

“Can you stand?” Nephytis asked, rising from her spot. Agnes tried, but her knees shook as she did so, and she stumbled, reflexively grabbing onto Nephytis’ arm. She gave the girl a small chuckle and lifted her into her arms, setting her on her hip and letting the girl rest her head on her shoulder. “And this is why we pace ourselves my dear.” Nephytis tapped the girl’s nose. “Come. An effort likes that deserves a treat methinks.” Nephytis carried the girl up the stairs. They emerged from a panel in the main hall, which lead to the foyer, and the connecting kitchen. From their position in the hall, Nephytis could see Martha and Rosa doing as she’d requested; with Martha at the front desk, and Rosa escorting a slightly emaciated figure that was slumped over her shoulder. What she didn’t expect to see however, was another young, androgynous looking figure, with a skinny frame. Nephytis instinctively flinched, and she stood dead still in the hall.

Nonsense. It couldn’t be…why would…

Nephytis swallowed, and cautiously approached the foyer, just as Frank said goodbye to Martha and exited. Upon entering, Martha approached her, a slight wrinkle in her forehead and ill-concealed worry in her voice.

“Uhm,” she began, “Mistress, she came back again…I told her if she wanted to see you she had to make an appointment in advance, but she insisted she didn’t need one, and then sat on the bench and now she won’t leave--” Nephytis nodded tersely and motioned for Martha to take Agnes.

“Take her to the kitchen, get her a snack. When Rosa comes back, all three of you go to the den upstairs, is that clear?” The girl nodded, and took the smaller girl in her arms, sinking slightly as Agnes’ full weight was in her arms. Martha hiked her up on her hip slightly and gave one last look to the figure on the bench, and went into the kitchen. Nephytis studied the skinny frame slumped indolently on the bench. Closer inspection proved the figure to be female; oily black hair, with a slight tangle, thick neon framed glasses, a red and white afghan scarf, skinny, black, paint-covered cutoff shorts, and flip-flops. In her ears were two white buds, connected to a small flat tablet with silver backing. Her drab olive-green shirt was splayed with bright, fire truck red, handwritten block-lettered font that read “ChristmasParty Hate-Fuck.”

Nephytis opened her mouth to speak when the girl made utterance, not looking up from her tablet. The voice was dry, and bitter, one could almost smell the stench of cheap alcohol, black coffee, and cigarettes from the voice alone. “Yer girl’s intimidated too easy. You’ll fix that when I come around next.”

Nephytis mouth half-shut, and she swallowed. “Yes Forsa.”

The girl looked up from her tablet, revealing a septum piercing. Nephytis hiked an eyebrow. Forsa smirked. “’S new. And before you ask, didn’t hurt. No big. You wish you had one. You oughta get a piercing. For yer clit or something. Bet you’d like that shit, all the other stuff yer into.” Forsa noted Nephytis’ mild discomfort. “No? Tch. Don’t act like you would like it. Make the sex great I hear. But you’d know that better than I, wouldn’t cha?” Forsa smirk faded slightly, and she looked back down at her tablet. “So. Mid-fifties Malygris cock. Heard yer into that now. Enjoyin’ it.” She paused. “How’s he taste?” She glanced up slightly, to see if she’d gotten a rise out of Nephytis, and she had, as the woman’s lips were pursed and she was staring at the floor. “Heh,” she looked back down at her tablet, tapping the screen with her middle, dirty-nailed finger.


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MGRP Art Thread.
MRGP On The Bound
MGRP OTB OoC Thread
MGRP SHipping Thread
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 PostPosted: Tue Jun 14, 2011 4:10 am Reply with quote        
There was a silence that hung in the air for a bit. This was what Forsa did, periodically. She’d come by, belittle and cause discomfort for Nephytis, give her orders, then leave. Usually this lasted about an hour, but sometimes it went on for as long as two.

After about eight solid minutes of silence, Nephytis opened her mouth, only to be preempted by Forsa again, still fiddling with her post-pc device. “Bet his lips like aged scotch.” She poked the screen. “An’ his skin tastes like Wilson leather. His breath like a Sharper Image humidifier. His cock like a cigar. Fancy Cuban shit.” She looked up at Nephytis, her expression blank, her eyes black as pitch, and voice raspy and hollow, though her throat showed no visible strain. “Shits childlike fascination of human ingenuity. Do his farts sound like a harpsichord? Or is it more like a pipe organ?” When she received no answer, only slightly widening eyes, Forsa continued. “His cum tastes like caviar, huh? Salty as fuck I bet.”

She stood, and stepped toward Nephytis, who stepped back in turn, trying to maintain eye contact. Forsa backed her into a wall, pressing against her chest, almost touching her nose. Despite the skinny frame of the skin she wore, Forsa was a great deal more powerful than Nephytis ever was. She was also the oldest of the Misus. Rumored to be the first one to fall during the divide. She had maintained many different personas over the eons, but it seemed with every passing century, and every world visited, she seemed to slip. In her mannerisms, in her ideals, her thought. Some thought that she was in charge only because of seniority. That somewhere along the line, she’d become disillusioned, that she’d lost her way. They said the initial Misus purpose was now lost to her, that she now had her own reasons for doing what she was doing to these worlds all these years. But she remained the supreme authority, for one reason, a reason that, despite her apparently senility, she was keenly aware of: they feared her. Her power was vast, her wrath easily incurred and unpredictable. Anything could, and more often than would, set her off. But she was just as likely to shower one with praise for even the tiniest of deeds, and reward them handsomely even, which she did for Malygris, frequently. Nephytis however, never seemed to catch her on a good day.

Forsa stared directly into her eyes, grinning. “You swallowed, right?” Nephytis’ breath shuddered and she closed her eyes, nodding stiffly. Forsa backed away, chuckling. “Hahahaha. ‘Course ya did. Yer a good lil’ cocksucker.” Forsa reached up pinching Nephytis’ cheek, eyes aglow, voice deepening, but keeping the eerie jeering inflection, as she jerked Nephytis’ cheek with every word. “Who’s a good cocksucker? A diligent dick-eater?” She leaned in, pouting her lips as if speaking to a baby. “Cum-guzzlin’ sperm dumpster? You are! Yes, YOU! YOU ARE!” Forsa released Nephytis with one last jerk before slapping her across the face, the force so hard it sent her to the floor. She towered over the woman, who was scrambling against the wall, nursing her cheek.

Forsa limbs hung loose from her torso, her head fell to the side, like a limp doll, as her aura manifested, almost engulfing the room. Forsa spoke, her reaching a depth that would rattle dishes. “Your skin. It clings.” She leaned down to Nephytis’ face, so they were eye to eye. “It will stiffen if you don’t wash it. Clear?” She nodded vigorously; her eyes welling, only just. Forsa’s face twitched, and the aura dissipated. She narrowed her eyes at the woman, shaking her head and showing her hands in her pockets. “Tch. Yeah. Feel that shit?” She pulled down her lower lid. “Yer skin ain’t designed for that shit. Quit that.” Forsa headed back to the bench, picking up her tablet, and popping the white buds in her ears, and put her hand on the ornate handle of the door. She stopped and turned to Nephytis, she was gathering herself up. “Ah yeah. Could you like, not be a complete whore around Malygris? That whole vitriolic relationship thing is subtle, I bet he sees through that. He’s got better things to do than to pretend to be attracted to that thing you wear.”

A pause, and Forsa looked up, thoughtful, a smile creeping onto her features. "By the way, I'm really into "Yonkers." Tyler the Creator's single? Probably the best short-form video ever. That and Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All. Just that whole collective. They really resonate with me, ya know?" She chuckled. "Free Earl." SHe held up a bony fist.

Forsa opened the door, just as Rosa was about to enter, nearly bumping into her.

“Oh! Heh my bad.” Rosa flashed a good natured smile. Forsa merely sneered.

“Yeah, fuck you too,” and walked out.

Rosa gave her an incredulous look before looking at Nephytis, who was standing, nursing her face. “Th’ fuck she think she—Oh shit, Mis’truss, yer face! You okay? Did that skinny bitch do dis? Wan’ me t’ fuck her up, I’ll fuck her shit six ways from—“

“That’s quite all right, Rosa, but it will not be necessary.” Her voice struggled to be calm. Rosa brow furrowed in worry. She approached Nephytis, gently touching her elbow.

“H-hey, ma’am? You awright?”

Nephytis swatted the girl’s hand away. “I am FINE. Go to the den with the other two, I will SEND for you later in the day.” She spat her words more than she would’ve liked, but she was too distressed to care. Rosa stared at her for a few more moments before making her way up the stairs slowly.

Once Rosa was out of sight, she went into the kitchen, and began to fix
herself a drink. She knew she shouldn’t be doing this, it was probably what was making this skin cling so much, but she didn’t care. She looked in the cupboards for a tumblr and when she couldn’t find one, she simply drank straight from the scotch bottle. The alcohol stung her throat halfway through the bottle, causing her to choke and go into a coughing fit. She glared at the bottle, before her aura flared and she threw it against the wall with a shriek.

Upstairs the girls huddled on the couch together in the den, wincing and flinching at every scream, curse, flip of furniture and shattering of glass. Agnes had her face buried in Martha’s chest, while Martha wrapped her arms around her, and laid her head on Rosa’s shoulder. Rosa was quaking with rage, barely managing to stay put.

“Martha.”

“Yeah?”

“You…you know this ws gon’ happen, th’ FUCK’D you let that cunt in for?!”Rosa voice rose, causing to Agnes to whimper. Martha stroked the girl’s head.

“Shhhhh, shhhh, Rosie’s not mad at you sweetie, shhhh…” She turned her attentions back to Rosa. “I tried, she wouldn’t leave. And Nephytis came up before I could get her to leave.” Rosa cut her eyes to the floor, giving a harsh sigh. After a few minutes, Agnes’ spoke in a shuddering squeak.

“How long are we gonna be in here?” Martha and Rosa looked at each other, hoping the other had the answer. When they realized they were both clueless, Martha looked at Agnes, a helpless expression on her face. She remembered what her grandmother would say to her when her mother went into drunken tantrums, and while it was never an answer she wanted, it was at least something.

“…As long as it takes.”


((For the record, Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill them all is an actual thing. I didn't make that up. If you want some real insight into FOrsa, to give an idea of JUST how fucked up she is, either watch the video for Yonkers by Tyler the Creator, or read about their mixtapes on Pitchfork. I can't make that kinda shit up.))

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MGRP Art Thread.
MRGP On The Bound
MGRP OTB OoC Thread
MGRP SHipping Thread
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