Vampires and Lycans. A whole new world to the human eye.Prt2

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(We left off at Morganne staying home from school.)


Prt2:

Idate had left his sister to do what she wanted. After all, it was her day off.
Morganne thought about it, and finally decided on what she wanted to do - But that was when she looked down at herself. She wasn't going to do anything until she had her shower.
Walking into the bathroom, she removed her hairy clothing, and stepped into the bath tub. After about, fifteen minutes, she was back in her room wrapped in a towel.

Clothes... Clothes, Morganne desperately thought. Her closet was empty, and her drawers had nothing but tank-tops and shorts, which weren't suitable for the cold October weather. Scrunching her nose in frustration, she flung open her closet and started digging through boxes. Living here for half her life, and still not fully unpacked. You could tell in an instant that Morganne isn't a very trustful person.
Morganne flung clothes in the direction of her bed. Some missed and ended up on her checkered bedroom floor. Others made it, and lay limp on her multi-coloured bet set. Finally satisfied with the bundle of clothes piled on the floor and bed, she closed her closet doors with a triumphant thud.

Marching over to the pile that lay at her feet, she kneeled to get a better look at her choices. The pile consisted mostly of shirts, bras and socks. "That means..." She looked up to the pile on her bed. It was practically all pants. She smiled. Good aim She praised happily.
Holding her towel with one hand, Morganne furiously rummaged through the clothes - arranging them out of their semi neat little pile.

The clothes she wanted were thrown out onto the other side of her floor. So far, the clothing she had chose to wear was quite eccentric; A polka-dot bra with little animated bunnies scattered throughout the design, knee high socks that were every colour of the rainbow, and a shirt that read 'Honk if you love me' lettering bold the colour orange and the shirt a light blue. Standing up, carelessly shoving her feet into the other clothes, Morganne began her search for pants in the bed pile.

After deciding on a pair of pants - blue jeans with ripped knee holes - she dropped her towel and dressed. She didn't bother to lock the door, knowing no one entered without knocking.. Well, that is, almost everyone knocked. Mell was the only one who entered on a whim, but he was at school so there were no worries.

Soon Morganne was fully dressed, and looking in the mirror. She stood straight for a minute, looking at herself. Thin, small muscles bulging from her feminine arms. Her hair was cut slightly shorter, and was now close to her shoulders - though it still hung gracefully over her left eye. Her nails were retracted to look as if she had bitten them off. A pair of button lips, and a line of freckles seemed to lighten her up a little.
Morgan played with the little symbols - gecko's, smileys and rings - that lined her right ear for about a minute. When she stopped, she turned from the mirror and started to the door. It was time to put her plan into action.

When Morganne reached the bottom of the stairs, she looked up. The mansion had several flights of stairs, all leading to different parts of the house. When Morganne was little, she would constantly get lost, or faint from too much exercise. Though, overtime, she just got used to it.
Looking away from the stairs, she walked through the kitchen to the coat rack, only to meet up with her twin brother's Malik and Denny. They were mesmerized by the T.V, eating cheerios.
When Morganne went to go grab her coat, almost on cue, both brother's heads turned to give her a blank look. "What?" She growled, knowing there might be a whole slur of questions.
"Aren't you..." Denny began.
"Supposed to be at school?" Malik finished.
"Uh, didn't you get the message? I'm staying home today, says Dai." She stuck out her tongue, and they both synced together in an exaggerated eye roll.
"What..." It was Malik beginning this time.
"Ever.." Denny finally finished after swallowing his mouthful of cheerios.
They resumed to watching the television, and Morganne snuck away with her coat.

Her coat was ripped slightly, and had several patched areas. It was too big for her, and reminded her of the old Baseball jerseys her brother's used to wear.
Morganne ran to the front door, slipping on her pair of already tied, worn-out sneakers.
She looked around the rest of the house for any more sign of brother activity. Nothing.
Just in case though, she cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled out, "I'll be back later! Don't wait up!" With that, she was gone out into the morning sun, hands in pockets head in the ground.
Last edited by evil_kookies on Fri Feb 06, 2009 11:36 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Poem Sig:
Flower that blooms on a cloudy day, please don't take the rain away.
Its all I have for the tears I've shed, All I've gained for the blood I've bled.




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Hello again, evil_kookies!

Hmmm... you still need to complete three more reviews of others' work to stick to the 2:1 ratio. ^_^

But that was when she looked down at herself.


Use description. Maybe Morganne knows what she looks like, but we, the readers, do not!

hairy clothing


This makes no sense. Why is her clothing hairy? Don't assume I know, tell me!

After about, fifteen minutes, she was back in her room wrapped in a towel.


Remove the comma before fifteen minutes.

You could tell in an instant that Morganne isn't a very trustful person.


Uhm, no. Not unpacking boxes tells me she's lazy. How does that make her unworthy of trust?

"Trustful" is not a word. Trustworthy is what you want.

Good aim She praised happily.


Comma after aim. De-capitalize she.

It would flow better as,

"She praised herself happily."

Thin, small muscles bulging from her feminine arms


Feminine arms bulging with muscles seems like a contradiction.

or faint from too much exercise


Uhm, is the mansion like one thousand miles long? This seems like a huge exaggeration.

Overall

Like I told you last time, give us some description!

Also, when does her being a Hybrid come in? Ever?

PM me if you have any questions and I hope this helped,

~~~Sakura~~~
Odi et amo. quare id faciam, fortasse requiris?
nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.
-Catullus, Carmen 85




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your story is good, there are some mistakes here and there, but i think our good friend above me has pointed them out. So now, all there's left for me to do is to tell you how wondeful and discriptive your story is.
I can just hear you narrating this story. It just sounds SO much like you.
the twin brothers reming me of Karou and Hikaru off of OHSHC
its funny. Keep up the good work Evil_Kookies ! :)




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haha loved it just as much as the first one. keep it up. again not an in deapth review, but Haruno Sakura did a good job, and its late. PM me when part three is up, if it isn't already.
Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them. ~Nathaniel Hawthorne




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Dear Marshmellow-Warrior,
Why the F*ck won't you answer any of the Msg's I send you?
T___T

And 'Lawl' I bet you can picture me narrating this.
I narrate things like this often(I have a lewd sense of humour don't I?)

Woah. Nuh Uh. >___< Karou and Hikaru don't talk like that. Their too busy feeling eachother up! They'd be all like; "Darlin', are you not supposed to be at school?" -says in a really squeaky chick voice-
See.
I'm more manly then them... And I'm the girl who cowwers at the sight of 'Sour Cream&Onion' potato chips.
U___U

Anyways. Thanks for the comments on this(That goes to all)
Its really making me happy. And is helping(Somewhat) too.

Well... TTYAL!
Woah, almost forgot.
MARSHMELLOW-WARRIOR! AWNSER MY MSG'S... And let me comment your story again<33

Love, 'The Kookster'.
Poem Sig:
Flower that blooms on a cloudy day, please don't take the rain away.
Its all I have for the tears I've shed, All I've gained for the blood I've bled.



The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.
— Marcel Proust