• ElizabethGrey
      • hello Elizabeth Grey
      • Username: ElizabethGrey
      • In response to: "What is the one thing you consistently spill on yourself?" Every liquid I touch. I go with co-ordination like red goes with pink. It's a love-hate relationship.
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    • Things I Love About My Culture
      • At Mizen Head.

        I love how we use the word ye for you plurar. Life would be so much more confusing without it. I sometimes wonder why it's not standard English.

        I love how we tend not to accept compliments, and degrade the item that is admired. Example:
        "I love your dress!"
        "Ha! I bought this in Penneys for a fiver. It's falling apart allready."

        I love how rubbishy our signposting is, with twisted metal signs pointing down wrong roads. It's like we want to kill off one of our biggest trades, tourism.

        I love our language and the way I don't have to practise my accent when I'm speaking it, because it's the same one I use for English. It's also pretty cool when you can't find an apropriate English word, and you have to stick Irish in, or when we twist English grammar until it's a word for word translation of Irish. Also love our phrases, like "out foreign" to describe someone abroad.

        I love how there is always someone who'll give you a lift home from anywhere, and how almost-strangers bring you home to their house because your bus broke down.

        I love how we become more Irish when we're away from home or surrounded by tourists, because we're proud of where we're from.

        One thing I hate is how American actors do Irsih accents. There are so many amazing Irish actors out there, use them instead of failing miserably. Look to "The Wind That Shakes The Barley" to hear real Irish accents from the best bit of Ireland: West Cork, my neck of the woods.

      • answered by ElizabethGrey on 09/16/2011
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    • Ninjas Versus Pirates
      • I dropped the hundred words bit. Not my best writing ever, but what the hell. It was fun! I love pirates.


        Ship Garthsnaid, ca 1920s

        The ship glided around the corner gracefully, the waves gently lapping the tarred planks. It was quiet. To quiet. My corset was laced tightly- I had to look my best. I would, no doubt, be seeing him again. The hilt of the sabre was slippy in my hand- it had been a gift from him, a mark of his trade.
        Their attack was silent and deadly. Black shapes dived from the outcropping above, landing perfectly on our weather-beaten deck. I frowned, and spun around. A shower of fists rained down on me; I blocked each carefully. I swung my sabre in an arc, blocking the dark figure's attack.
        "You aren't supposed to use it like a cutlass... I allready showed you." The voice was smooth, familiar.
        "Do you really want me to stab you?"
        The corners of his eyes crinkled up, betraying the grin that was hidden behind his mask.
        "I suppose not. But you might want to once we've recovered that cargo you so rudely tok from us the last time."
        "I belive that Gold was ours to begin with- we were the ones who took it from the merchant ship."
        "Hmm..." He swung at me again with his sword, the sharp edge glinting in the fading sun. "we then manage to take it off you... should you really be allowed to mind it?" He swung around, gripping my arms behind my back and holding his sabre to my throat. I twisted my head around to look at him.
        "I think you'll recall that I managed to steal it back off you-" He pulled the black fabric off his face, tucking it under his chin. "while you were obliviously kissing me." I was impressed with my own bravado, my voice sounding strong.
        "So I recall. What was that like again?" He ducked his head down to mine and kissed my lips. I felt him take the gun I had slipped from my skirt.
        "That really wasn't nice, was it?" He chuckled as he tied my hands together. I glanced around. The rest of the crew were similarly incapacitated. He spun me around and lined me up against the deck rail with the othe crew memebers, before one of his boy's slid down to the hold and returned with a dull brown chest.
        "You know, ninja, I still do not know your name-"
        "Nor I yours, Pirate." He kissed me again, before his army climbed agilely up the rocks and out of sight, taking the chest with them.
        The crew sat in glum silence for a minute, before I broke the irritated tension.
        "I suppose they took the chest because they didn't realise I had moved the Gold... or perhaps they just wanted a box full of rocks."
        Everyone grinned. So did I. It meant he would be back.

      • answered by ElizabethGrey on 09/30/2010
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    • Leaving
      • Not your typical steamy romantic story... but hopefully an interesting one.


        West Wycombe Park. North Front. Buckinghamshire.

        His hair was dark brown, the short waves framing his face. His forehead was pressed against the windowpane, his hands balled up into a fist above it. I wanted to get from the bed, cross the room, comfort him. I couldn't. I couldn't move. It hurt to breathe, to talk... but I did so anyway.
        "Nicko?" My voice was a rasping whisper, shocking, almost taunting me. A parody of my former self. He turned from the window, quickly wiping his eyes on his turned back cuff. They were stained and no longer stiff with starch. Tired. Like him. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, his face haggard. Still beautiful, but ruffled, wrecked, beaten.
        "It's my fault." His voice too was hoarse, breaking as he spoke. He bit his lip, holding himself back.
        "No." My voice was weak, not strong, forceful, defiant like I wanted - like I needed it to be. He came closer, kneeling beside the bed, taking my hand in his.
        "If I had the money, not just the title... I could get you the medical help you needed... I would disown the estate, sell it all, recind my nobility, if it would make you better." I looked down at my hand, small and pale in his. Perhaps if he had the money... but I did not care. I cared only for him.
        "We just had medical elp. The doctor just came, but ever since he did you've been standing there staring after him..." I gathered all my energy and gestured towards the window, "...refusing to tell me what he told you."
        "Remember when we were going to be married... when we were planning it... it was to be in two weeks time. I was just looking out in the garden at where we were going to have the party."
        "Where we will have the party, when I'm-"
        "Better. yes I know. I heard it over and over!" Nicko's eyes were filled with tears of rage, his jaw clenched. "Stop trying to make me feel better! Keep that energy for yourself. You'll need it, defying death-" he stopped, then got up quickly and sat at the edge of my bed.
        "Defying death?" I swallowed. I had known all along it wasn't just another cold, a passing malady. He gently, timidly, wrapped his arms around me, and buried his face in my hair.
        "I'm sory, I didn't mean to..." His voice trembled. "He says... he says you have consumption. Your symptoms: pale skin, a hacking cough.. the weakness and aching in your bones. He says that it's serious. That..." Again, he stopped. I felt a warm tear fall onto my scalp. "That... you have days... even hours, maybe, to live." He took a breath, pulling himself together, then began again, speaking too quickly, too loudly. "Of course, he's just one doctor- we should get a second opinion. I can sell the horses, leave off a few staff-"
        "No. There's only the maid, the cook and the butle left, and they work for hardly anything anyway. There are only two horses left... and you'll need them, without the carraiges. They're also gone, to pay for the last doctor." My practical, economical side spoke out, sheltering the real me underneath.
        Nicko tightened his embrace and lifted his legs onto the day bed..
        "Youch!" He exclaimed, pulling a hardcovered book from under him.
        "What are you reading now?" He smiled, albeit sadly, opening the red cover.
        "'Romeo and Juliet'. A tad depressing, don't you think. I much prefer 'As You Like It'- everything works out in the end... and it's funny." I smiled.
        "Yes, I do like that too. But, not everything allways works out, does it? And there are some beautiful quotes." He chuckled quietly, happy for a moment. For longer than a moment. The room was pale, beautiful. Ghostly in the cool light. I curled into Nicko's side, reacing towards his face. He frowned, worried at my fraility, but then ginned and ducked his face to mine. Our lips met, his warmth seeping into me. I broke away, grinning also.
        "A good one is, 'Thus with a kiss I die.'" The happiness dissapeared from his face, replace by horror. I grinned and shook my head... it seemed lighter, less painful.
        "I love you," I smiled. He smiled too again.
        "I love you too." He kissed me for the second time that morning. The energy, happiness, light, warmth, joy, beauty and passion radiating from him filled me. I couldn't quite touch his lips, they felt like they were pulling aways from me. His arms felt looser, my body lighter. I sat up, stood up, for the firt time in weeks.
        "Nicko! Look!" I spun around to see his reaction. Tears fell from his eyes as he gazed in wonder at my frail, waif like body cradled in his strong arms. I understood. Moving towards him, I kissed his forehead.
        "I love you," I sighed, and left.

      • answered by ElizabethGrey on 09/16/2010
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