i hate the ending myself.

[Kindred Blue]

CHARACTER: BRYONY.
STATUS: OPEN THREAD.
NOTES: lolbrian is craaaaazy and she is well obsessed with denizen C:

---

you're just a sad song with nothing to say

[/right]

In her lifetime, the mare had only seen the Shores once-- back in a sweet, simple age where her biggest entertainment was pulling on her younger sisters' mane, and where her greatest fear was straying too far. But that age had been spoiled. There was one huge tarnish of ink of the page that told Bryony's story, a mark shaped suspiciously like a cigarette.

Bryony had returned to the Shores. She hadn't intended to go there, but after wandering the land aimlessly and finding no sign of her family, it was her last resort. It had been the last place she had seen her darling parents, or more specifically, her darling father, and it seemed logical that she should check there for some sign of him.

Older now, and stronger, she immediately began to sink into the soft and gentle sand as it gave way beneath her bulk. Even as she stood there, slowly sinking deeper, she couldn't quite think of a reason to justify her search-- she still felt thouroughly betrayed. Daddy had never come to rescue his little girls, and Bryony had faced shame in that cave full of foals, faced embarressment and dents to her already deflated pride. She'd sworn that her parents would rescue her, rescue them all, but they had never came.

Nobody did.

Her dark eyes narrowed briefly. There was resentment in her gaze, and anger, emotions spawned from the necessity to survive and the sharpness of love and pain. Love and pain were not compatible with Bryony's heart, a thing that had inherited some of the more famous family traits of anger, need for revenge, and a talent for being quite cruel-- so she had formulated new emotions, powerful ones, to cover the weak ones. Anger had a flame that burned far brighter than that of sorrow and grieving.

Soul and Rose were like ghosts to her now. In that moment, as she silently lifted all her limbs one by one in order to be on the surface again, she realised that she had not been drawn to the seaside to find her parents-- she had drawn to it, because it was hers.

Those eyes narrowed further, and a small twitch of her maw was her version of a triumphant smirk. Her eyes washed over the shore, complacent and watchful, feeding a hungry, intelligent mind. If she was distantly related to Spirit, and Spirit's precious son was not here.. then it was hers. Her land.

Somewhere in her heart she knew it had always belonged to her. In her blood there lied the blood of an age old rivalry, and Bryony, painted like her father with her mind that her grandfather would have been proud of, had finally settled the score. The ghosts of Denizen and Spirit would be screaming from their watery graves: one for joy, and one, in anger and sorrow.

With a loud whinny, Bryony reared back. Her powerful front legs kicked out at the air, her eyes seemed wild, and for a moment, the section of her neck that was missing a mane seemed invisible to any lookers on. She was strong, she was deserving of this land by blood, and she would pummel any foolish enough to challenge her so far into the dirt that they might think they'd always lived there.

The shores, for the first time ever, were being ruled by a lone queen-- Bryony, descendant of Denizen, rival of the Shores.

Hers.

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[corpserotten]

OOC.. I changed my mind. Daemyn sounds better. Plus I need to save muse for Hurt.

You are my sunshine,
My only sunshine.
You make me happy
When skies are grey.
You'll never know, dear,
How much I love you,
Please don't take,
My sunshine away.

[/right]

Nonchalant, feathered hooves walked lazily though the soft sand, skipping slightly with joy. Vocals vibrated softly as he hummed, thick head bobbing back and forth to the tune. Audits were erect, gentle orbs half closed. There was nothing to worry about with a build as large as his, and why worry? He was on the beach, he was happy without a care in the world. Faint dappled flesh rippled with natural muscles, dreads bouncing with his chipper steps. As he moved down the beach, his simple mind wandered to the song. Where had he heard it? Through his travels he'd heard many songs, so it was hard to keep track. Trying to bring back his fuzzy memory, the Boulonnais continued his song.

The other night, dear,
As i lay sleeping,
I drempt I held you in my arms.
When I a'woke, dear,
I was mistaken,
So I hung my head and cried.

Daemyn stopped walking a moment and dropped his head. Both eyes shut tightly, ears flattening with slight frustration as he struggled to recall. A loud snort sounded and he struck the sand with a massive, hard hoof. Ah, yes. His eyes opened and once more his ears relaxed upon his crown, grey lips turning into a smile. It was near London. How could he forget. Once more lightened with the new knowledge, his anchors went into motion, walking to the song.

I'll always love you,
And make you happy,
If you will only say the same.
But if you leave me,
To love another,
You'll regret it all some day.

Ah, London. Well, technically it was some ways outside of London, a small farm who was trying to save his breed. They had him and two mares. Apparently, there was some fuss over his particular blood, and he kept hearing them talk about how horrible it was that Boulonnais were kept for meat, and that they should be worked and shown and appreciated. Daemyn liked those people, they had him work, but never over-did it, or made him work if it was too hot, or too cold or he was sickly. They always fed him plenty and spent time with him. Plus the mares were kind and he granted them each a foal.

You told me once, dear,
You really loved me,
And no one else could come between.
But now you've left me,
And love another.
You have shattered all my dreams.

Then, new people kept coming by, petting him and feeling him down and examining every square inch of his body. Thinking it was only the human's strange way to show appreciation, he let them and nuzzled them and greedily took treats from them. The mares seemed cautious, and wouldn't let the new men around their foals. Daemyn helped protect the children, hating it, but having to bite and push the people away forcefully. If these mares didn't want their children touched, nothing would touch them. Only a few days later Daemyn was taken into a trailer, as he always had been, and he knew what was coming; a new home and family. He said goodbye to his children and mares, then left.

You are my sunshine,
My only sunshine.
You make me happy when skies are grey.
You'll never know, dear,
How much I love you,
Please don't take,
My sunshine away.

Daemyn forced away the rest of the memory with ease. It wasn't pleasant, and this place was so... pretty, he couldn't let those thoughts here. The large draft realized how far he came, looking back to see nothing familiar. Not bothered by his aimless wanderings, he seemed to enjoy it, then looked back and continued his stroll, now keeping an eye out for feed. Rounding a bend, the blue horse seemed a bit shocked to see a mare. Thinking these lands were abandoned, it was a nice surprise. His neck lifted, and his lips formed a smile as he trotted in her direction.

You are my sunshine,
My only sunshine,
You make me happy when skies are grey.
You'll never know, dear,
How much I love you,
Please don't take,
My sunshine away.

[/sup]

[Crow'sia]

CROW’SIA
open the past

She had been back to the Shores a few times, remembering, seeking out Soul and not finding him. The disappointment that weighing on her heart was heavy. The last time, she recalled, she had noticed the gleaming white of a giant skull, and without really knowing, the realization had settled in her heart. It was Denizen. She had kicked it away with disgust, the bone giving a violent crack as it skidded along the sand. She glanced at it once more with a slight longing and then left. Crow’sia’s mind seethed, she hated them. And now, she was returning to them.

She was incredibly old. Her bones creaked sometimes when she walked, her muscles sheltered. But for surviving so long she was still surprisingly strong. The only signs of age in her eyes and sometimes her walk; the light tawny fur of Crow’sia’s pelt was still just as glimmering as it had every been, her fur did not grey. What truly plagued her however, was how quickly she tired. Death, she assumed, was coming for her now. She did not welcome or reject it. Death was simply a part of her life. She only wished she had returned. Denizen’s son, was he? She could hardly recall. A smile slid over her face though, some decedents might still live. And today she had not come to find them, she had come to witness their downfall in the hands of strangers. The feeling warmed her, and she flicked her ears both awkwardly torn, one of her own doing, in excitement and agitation.

And yet if she had known who had just taken up residence, she might have been enraged rather than pleased, revenge still in her mind, hate still claws at her sides. She came for her own reasons aside, one last attempt to seek out the bastard who destroyed her world. Who disbanded them. Each Outlaw, in her mind, was now a traitor, and each she assumed was now long dead. It was not a comforting thought.

In the very near distance she spotted a great horse rise into the air and call. Her eyes narrowed in the light to see. The face was so familiar, and yet seemed more delicate than she remembered. Of course, it had been a long time. She could certainly smell him. The same colouration? Her mind reeled, it took her not but seconds to know.

Soul.

And then, while old, she charged screaming her hate at the animal ahead of her.

OOC; XD Bye bye skull. Hazel mentioned it once in an old topic.
And she does look like Soul, does she not? Anywayss. And obviously she’s smelling Daemyn here.

[Kindred Blue]

you're just a sad song with nothing to say

[/right]

For a few seconds, there was silence. A brief few seconds, during which Bryony surveyed her new home with a careful and observant eye. The ocean lapped at the sand with a greed that it had never had in it before, grabbing at the shore repeatedly as if it understood the call of it's new master, understood that here was a child of the great shire horse it had swallowed in the final reckoning.

There was a bitter look in her eye as the lead stared at the sparkling water: it had stolen a revolution. Bryony could have had the chance to be born into a new world, where her bloodline was royalty, where the very ground she walked on would tremble with the weight of others falling to their knees.

Glory. Bryony yearned it so.

But then the silence was broken, and suddenly Bryony turned, to face two horses speeding her way. The first of them was a large horse, but it did nothing to intimidate her, as he was only as large as her father had been and as large and she would someday be. He was running at a slower pace than the second horse, which was a smaller creature, rickety on it's legs but very speedy. And very.. loud.

Had Bryony not spent such a time alone, she might have lost her dignity and allowed a look of bewilderment to drift across her long face: but being who she was, so trained and so silent, her expression did not change. She made a powerful right-angled turn, digging her back hooves into the sand and facing both oncomers with a solidly intimidating expression of anger, and a powerful, sturdy stance. She did not know who either of these horses were, but she knew that these lands were hers, and she would not lose a challenge for them (typically, she assumed both runners to be challengers, her mind having been accustomed to the idea of war and violence to solve a cause)-- nor would she let them provoke her into anything but battle.

Silently, carefully, and ever watchfully, Bryony awaiting their collision.

---

ooc:
Yesssss. Brian is a spitting image of her papa :)


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[corpserotten]

<sup>Locked in his ignorant world, the blue stallion kept up his easy trot towards the black and white mare, smiling. The sand was churned in his light feathers, legs having to pull up in a sort of lazed prance to keep from stumbling as he sunk easily in the soft earth. With his ears ahead of him, and his attention elsewhere, he didn't hear the mare charging behind him until she passed him.

Daemyn jumped and froze, mouth agape slightly as he watched the golden mare rattle her way down the beach. She didn't look too happy... but maybe she was just playing. Watched the larger mare, closer to his size, turn and look at them menacingly. That's funny... perhaps she hadn't seen his smile? Or maybe she was playing with this other mare...

With nothing left for him to do aside from chatting with them and seeing what this strange game being played was called, the Bollounais moved from his startled stand-still.</sup>

[Crow'sia]

CROW’SIA
open the past

Crow’sia’s voice was nothing short of pitch-black hate, like an animal newly escaped from hell. He pivoted and expected her. Even at the distance she could feel the strength, how calm Soul stood like the sea watching for the storm. She concluded he too must have been dying, for the stallion must have recognized her and surely he was most intelligent to know she was set upon death. She had lived enough so that any injury that returned to her would not matter so long as she fell last.

The pallid mare sank into the sand and stumbled but she managed to jump out of it, throwing her head as she continued to close ground between the two, her cry never breaking. She kept her feet lifted high like a march so that she would not be stuck when weight thrust her down. In her fury she scarcely noticed the great dark mass that flew past her, the scent distinctively male, distinctively forgiven. Yet there was happiness too, sheer bliss swept over her, washing her clean.

Bits of her rage began to become clear as she gathered herself for the collision. “Deserter!” By now she could see Soul’s face, quite perturbed, calling her forward. It appeared to her that this face was much more graceful however, had his looks diminished and become more feminine with age? Pitiful creature. Crow’sia was mere tail lengths away now, and instead of slowly to make a confrontation she pushed her worn muscles to go faster so that she might collide with such force as to knock the great animal down. Only her senses somehow managed to make their way through her wrath and into sight. A number of things were wrong.

The scent behind her was not Soul for surely she would remember that which she had so long thought of, the scent she had caught from afar. The horses ahead was female, and thus lighter, the face only a shadow of Soul, the build so similar. There was something else familiar there too, but what? Crow’sia barely managed to change her course and break painful, skidding just past the mare’s nose, nearly grazing her side. She skipped into the air, halted and whirled, sides heaving.

“Who are you!” came the aged and guttural voice. Anger still flowed from her every pore. What was this trickery! How could she have been so deceived by this impostor! Shame flooded her body. It remained within.

A child, a cruel voice hissed within her mind.

[Kindred Blue]

you're just a sad song with nothing to say

[/right]

The more lively and.. friendly of the two oncoming horses paused for a moment: Bryony could see him from her peripheral vision, and peripherals only, as she focused the entirity of her concentration on the faster, smaller one. He seemed a little bit bewildered, but unphased, still carrying on towards her location slowly. Slower than the other, at least, but this little one really seemed to have a bit of vigour about her.

The cry was louder now, and there was word amongst all the noise, as the two opposites faced one another. One silent, observant, still-- the other shrieking like a flock of harpies and running at full speed. Deserter? Bryony repeated the word in her mind until it echoed and rattled in the vacated place that compassion once tried to blossom. Deserter?

It made little sense to Bryony, even for a mare of her growing intelligence. She, of course, had no idea about her darling daddy's part is the disbanding of the Outlaws: very few horses had been willing to tell her about the fabled and feared group, much less about their leader, and the mare had been forced to assume that without their brave leader, they just faded away into the scenery. In this way she had developed some contempt for all those who had called themselves Outlaws-- they had abandoned their cause. They had abandoned his cause, and in doing so, had abandoned the promise of the greatest revolution in history.

But they were lucky. Bryony would give them another chance. She would bring about the changes that should have happened long before, and now, she even had a base from which to operate. She already had authority. Authority was a dangerous thing, for oone so hungry for power and glory.

Then there was a flicker in the furious eyes of the other, perhaps of confusion or perhaps of realisation. The smaller mare took a sudden and unexpected diversion, but Bryony was ready, and even as she skidded past by a hair the larger shire raised her back hoof, poised and prepared to lash out.

But she paused.

From the outside it might have looked as if it were the words of the other that made her stop, but Bryony, in all her observing, had just spotted something very interesting. A blemish that would have made the other otherwise unworthy, but it was a well known blemish. A blemish, on the ear. This was an Outlaw.

Torn between anger and curiosity, Bryony lowered her deadly hoof back to the ground and stared at the other, boring into her eyes. She allowed a silence to sink in as she gazed at the other, drawing out the tension between them and tasting the situation in her mind. Perhaps this was a case of mistaken identity: the question certainly showed that the mare had been expecting someone different.

Silently she considered complicating the situation further, but the mare seemed rickety and creaky, and Bryony supposed that prolonged waiting would have her keel over and die after such an exhausting run for one so small, and so old. So she reverted to her straight talking self, bypassing answers such as 'That's no way to talk to royalty' and 'The question is, who are you?' for a more straight forward one. "I am Bryony." A pause-- She was fond of silence. "And you, are an Outlaw."

---

ooc: assuming the bit of the ear is still missing C: or at least that there is some sign that it was missing at some point. XD

[/blockquote]

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[corpserotten]

<sup>Daemyn heard the screaming now, and realized, this was no game. Worried a fight would break out, he quickened his pace to a slow canter, hoping he could get there in time before any real damage occurred. Daemyn wasn't fond of fighting and tried harder to avoid it than to win if it was inevitable, and so he'd do his best to keep these mares from ripping each other apart.

As he was a good several horse-lengths from them, he slowed to a walk, seeing there was no fight happening. Again, his mind was wheeling with what these mares wanted with each other... they seemed to have met before, flashing between hatred and confusion and... something else. He could hear them speaking now and his large head twisted to the side slightly, as it often did in regular states of confusion. Outlaws? What? He hadn't heard of such a thing.

The Bolounnais said nothing for a while, watching them talk. He felt a bit intrusive now, and felt his cheeks warm slightly under his blue fur. Gentle brown eyes looked from the larger mare, quite pretty, and the elder. He felt his heart reach out to her weak being. Poor thing, she must feel terrible after that run. Not wanting to hurt her feelings, he didn't ask if she was alright or not, but his eyes did sadden slightly at her figure. Well, he knew the larger mare's name, Bryony. Knowing such information made him feel horribly rude not stating his, and just standing and gawking.

"H-hi." He said quietly. "My name is Daemyn. I'm not interrupting anything... am I?" He asked, glancing back to the larger mare. His ears lay back slightly, and his head lowered slightly.</sup>

[Crow'sia]

CROW’SIA
open the past

Crow’sia was still too bewildered with her mistake to realize she might be in any sort of danger. Up against the mare, who was in fact larger than her, she found herself not feeling small in any sort of way, for Crow’sia was something great; she was someone who should have been worshipped. Yet now her mind was reeling with images and sound, memories that slid by in silver. How could this horse, so familiar, not have been Soul? With a snort of annoyance, she sidestepped out of the path of danger without even realizing she had done so.

Her chest heaved with ragged and tired breaths; it was only her determination, which was driven purely by hatred that kept her standing. Her attention was focused solely on the other mares mouth and throat, anticipating for a response and quite ready to attempt beating one out of her. She knew she would likely be the one who came off worse, for her size and age, yet no longer did it matter. Her ears pricked forward. Crow’sia could hear the heavy patter of feet distantly, briefly remembering the other horse she had left behind. The male whose scent had somehow misled her. She shook with rage and fatigue.

Then, from a face as distraught as her own the answer came. She felt relief wash over her, and disappoint. How useless a name, Bryony! Crow’sia might have spat at it, and herself. Had she only come so much sooner, instead of keeping to her own outside the vast territories. She took a deep and ragged breath, perhaps ready to speak, when the shire-like horse continued.

She was shocked, repulsed, and her rage flared once more. It was directed however not towards the creature in front of her, yet the one who had just arrived, although he kept his dear distance. With a kick, Crow’sia had lunged towards him, banking sharply in the sand, as she sunk to her ankles. So unaccustomed to beach lines. His voice sickened her, meek, somewhat submissive. She hated how he was careful around them, hated how he towered over her. “That would depend,” she growled, the noise tearing so loudly from her throat she was choking and sputtering before she spoke again. Crow’sia lifted her head high, to meet his gaze, all too proud. She bared her teeth to him though, and without considering that the stallion might attempt to take a chunk out of her, had whipped her head at breakneck speeds back to Bryony. And she knew.

“Yes,” came the hiss, dark and shaky, she attempted to gather more of her breath. Crow’sia flicked the original ear which Denizen had torn (well, I think it was him… hrmmm XD), the other was clearly her own doing, and hardly an ear but a mutilated mess. Either this was a child of the Shores, and had heard some sick legends they now passed down in their history, or she was Soul’s child. What harlot would breed with such a traitor? She grimaced at the thought. A sadistic look came into her eyes though, and like rapture she felt her stomach like full of butterflies. Never such happiness, such luck. Kill his line! she thought. Yet what was such a victory without the father to watch the light slip from their own child’s eyes? She would have no solace in this. It had to be Soul. Denizen’s line.

She found her memory stretching back, far back, into the past once again. Had their not been an heir to the Shores? Still quite angry she was now also intrigued by the beast in front of her. Stupid, uneducated animals. Crow’sia who would be neither puppet nor master said nothing more.

OOC; Yes she does indeed. Well, both are actually torn now after her flight from the Shores.

[Meg]

[occ;I want to join!]

B L A C K R O S E.
a rose is so truthful,
look at its withering petals.

Time had not done so well on Rose. She had died on the inside, almost turning into the black, empty hearted mare she had once been so long ago. Ah, so long ago. She was older now, but still as beautiful as she was the day she came to these lands. The red roan shown beautiful as she stepped slowly, her huge talons gripping the sand. Rose had lost everything. First her clan, then she had found love with Soul, but he had soon been lost too, after her children had been stolen from her. It had broken the last of Rose's good heart when Soul hadn't come home when he had been searching for their lost children. Rose had wept many a day, no tears produced from her dark orbs but the heart had cracked.

Rose had slightly cracked as well. After wandering around aimlessly in this damned territory for close to a year; waiting, waiting for Soul to come home with her babies. And they never did. She had left and disappeared for a long while. Keeping to herself and she had lost her tongue. Yes, Rose had given up on speech; it had been well over 2 years since she had last spoken. It was a mystery to even herself why she kept returning here. Maybe she hoped she would come upon her children and lover again. Maybe she was trying to remember what she had lost, whatever it was, she didn't know it anymore. This mare, once corrupted and dark turned good; now had started to slip back down in the darkness and silence of her miserable life.

As she trudged on these damned lands, her auds pricked to hear the distant noise of other equines. One aud flopped uselessly on her skull, a chunk missing. It was like a sign of danger. Her empty orbs took in the land around her and saw in the distance three equines. Picking her step, she trotted slowly towards them. The features of two of the equines cutting sharp into her memory like a carving knife. Soul. Had he finally returned? And the mare near...

Rose stopped, the sand flying around her as she stood a mere few yards from them. Crow'sia. She glanced between the painted equine and the tan mare which she certainly knew as Crow'sia. Had they finally returned to take her home? Was Soul finally home? Did he know where her precious children where? She stared at the two, forgetting about the other equine; he had no importance to her. Only Crow'sia and Soul was in her line of vision. Now she was a big mare, being a shire and it was obvious that she would soon be noticed. She didn't care if she was intruding. She wanted her children back, and damn Soul for leaving her.

Still staring at the two, a giggle formed on Rose's kissers. And it slowly spilled out over her kissers and into the air. She started soft, quiet giggle and it steadly grew louder and louder until she was laughing. Laughing away all the pain that had ever been there. The years of solitude. The silence that pained her so. The lost of her children and her lover. And she laughed; she threw her thick skull back, her tressels dancing on her roan boa, and laughed. Her eyes were dark and empty now. This was not Soul. This was a mere fragment of her imagination. Crow'sia wasn't here. Rose was alone. She will always be alone. Her daughters were long gone along with her lover and Crow'sia. She would never see them again.

Laughing loudly, she picked her talons up and continued to stroll on. Her laughter subsided a little and she chuckled to herself. She walked right between Crow'sia and Soul, chuckling madly as she glanced at the two right in the orbs. Soul first and then Crow'sia. She let another laugh leap from her kissers and tossed her skull back, throughly enjoying herself. Rose had cracked so long ago... Now it was beginning to show. She stopped, and then turned around decided if this was a figment of her imagination then she may as well enjoy it. This is the first time she had ever thought she may be in the presence of Soul. Her heart racked her chest, and sorrow broke over her. The laughter stopped as she looked at them. Just waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting, and waiting. It is what Rose was best at.

so lost and alone.
what happens next?
forever waiting.

[Kindred Blue]

you're just a sad song with nothing to say

[/right]

The blue stallion was closer now, showing off his odd coat, and Bryony shot him a hard glance-- a glance void of emotion, but then even so, it was not cruel. Just empty, perhaps unforgiving, despite the fact there was no place for forgiveness in this meeting. Bryony answered his stuttery question at exactly the same point that the old mare did, though while the smaller said 'that would depend' in a large voice, the larger said "No," in a small voice. With narrowed eyes the shire fixed her gaze on the mare for a moment, then looked back to the stallion, repeating her answer. "No."

On her knees and shaky, the mare was pitiful, pathetic, but it drew no flicker of compassion or marcy from Bryony's painfully incomplete eyes. She had no knowledge of this stranger, though she was intruiged by her-- she was an Outlaw, after all, and few of them were left roaming about nowdays-- and with the lack of knowledge came the lack of a necessity to care. Of course it wouldn't be very good public relations if a mare died on her territory only minutes after she had claimed it (that would be really bad luck) but Bryony had to admit that she wouldn't worry about it. or even do anything about it. Death was nothing but a different channel: a world within a world, and a world fileld with promises so much greater than those in the here and now.

A world where she could be reunited with her loved ones. Past tense not only because of their deaths-- real or supposed-- but also because she had forgotten how to love.

Her jaw opened on it's hinge as if she was going to speak again, though whom she might have addressed, it was not clear: her head was angled and her eyes were staring ahead, her ears suddenly foreward and listening. Laughter. Laughter drawing from the vocal chords of a large mare, familiar but somehow sharper, crueler than the younger shire remembered. And that hinged jaw could not find it's place to close completely, though her eyes remained blank and starless.

If could not be. She could not be. Her mother? Alive, so god damn breathing, with not a mark on her and all she could do for her lost daughter was to laugh?

Anger sparked. A flame that often lay dormant in her well set chest erupted into violence and she took some powerful steps backwards, backing away but not in a manner that showed retreat: more of a manner that showed preparation for a charge. These horses were playing with her mind! This was not the sweet, gentle mother she knew! This was an imposter, a monster: a crazed monster who knew no more about saving her children than her real parents did. And this Outlaw, she was mad too! A screw loose and a wild look in her eye. And to top it off, a blue stallion-- blue for christs sakes!-- who spoke in stutters and looked like he was at the wrong auditions.

"No!" She roared.

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