Without Laughter, Slaughter Would Just Be "S" [ private; RACHIEEEE ]

Adam pranced along the stage, reading out words with accuracy. In his hand was a script, the paper folded back, so that he could see a page not too far into the bundle of sheets. "Angels and ministers of grace, defend us!" he shouted, waving his free hand in a motion like that of a scimitar, slicing through the air. "Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damned, bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell! Be thy intents wicked or charitable thou comest in such a questionable shape that I will speak to thee!" He inhaled deeply, letting himself drop onto one knee, looking to the heavens as if waiting for a savior. "I'll call thee Hamlet, king, father, royal Dane: O, answer me!" With a drop his head, he let the script fall from his hand, and a moment of silence passed. Leaping up, Adam bowed, though the amphitheater was empty. He never liked crowds anyways, and besides, this was only for laughs. Oh, gods know what kind of embarrassment would come with his sub-par acting of Hamlet.

Taking a second glance of the empty seats, he retrieved the script, and rolled it up. Shoving into his pocket so that it partially stuck out, he yawned, letting his arms stretch out in comfort. "I want a lizard," he told himself absently. "I shall name it Steven, and he will munch on carrots. Carrots of doom!" Again, he swung an arm around, as if he was in an invisible sword-fight. Lunging forward, he disarmed his make-believe opponent, and rolled across the ground, slashing upwards with air. Raising his arm in victory, he cheered, and grinned. "Another point for Adam!" Making sure that nobody had entered the scene, Adam brushed a bit hair from his face and said, "I would be such a great scriptwriter."

Dancing bears, painted wings, things I almost remember

Noelle Liddell, Daughter of Khione

Noelle walked silently along the shadows of the amphitheatre, making absolutely sure that she could not be seen. She had been here, all day really. She liked to sing in her free time. But not in front of people, Gods no, not in front of people. People frightened her. She hated being incredibly shy, but growing up in a town where everyone called you a freak because you always wore a wool coat 'because you were cold', it damages a little child. She suddenly heard a voice cry out, making her gasp loudly and duck for cover, even though she was already well hidden. She crept up closer to the stage, silently. The voice became louder and much clearer. It sounded like a man, reciting Hamlet. She never appreciated Hamlet, but she over looked it. He was quite the actor. She smiled to herself, making a seat for herself on the ground, continuing to watch. She was ready to call out to him as he began speaking loudly to himself. She heard carrots of doom and quietly giggled. Then all of a sudden he was getting into a sword fight. "What an imagination' She thought absent-mindedly to herself. "You really would!" She spoke loudly, laughing. Realizing that her voice was currently echoing through the theatre, she quickly clasped her hands over her mouth.

And a song someone sings, Once upon a December

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