Longest Roleplay Post

This is the longest post I ever made... ever. It will likely remain as such for a long time to come. Seeing as it is longer than any paper that I ever did school, including in my AP classes, there is something to be said about it. If there are any subjects that confuse you... well, it can't really be helped. It is taken out of it's original context, which is a reply to several other posts that were already made. It's like cutting out random paragraphs from a story, I guess. Anyways, I won't distract you any longer. Here it is:

How utterably, terrifyingly, amazingly confusing this hatching was. Everything so chaotic, so noisy, so busy. Almost too much for the little Harutan to handle. He was beginning to feel very dizzy from all of the commotion combined with the unrelenting heat of the sands. Even though he wore sandals, unlike the stubborn Radek (who he was standing as far away from as he was allowed to), he could feel those unwanted heat-induced blisters already forming on his feet. Inwardly he winced as he shifted his position slightly to try to find a less painful way to stand. He was certainly going to make a bee-line for the Infirmary or the nearest stash of that cooling salve that his blisters already needed as soon as the hatching ended - whether or not he had a dragonet trailing along behind him. He sincerely hoped he would. Every time one of the eggs began showing signs of hatching, his heart leapt up somewhere near his through, and his stomach accomplished amazing acrobatic feats in the gaping space left vacant by the risen heart. Inexplicable emotions and feelings washed over him every time a dragon hatched, and wobbled (or valiantly attempted to stride) across the sands towards their bonded. He couldn't possibly know that it was wonder and hope that filled him each time his eyes swept across the form of one of the newest additions to the weyr. The onslaught of busy noises and emotions put the small boy in sort of floaty daze. A slightly terrified daze, but a floaty sort of daze none-the-less.
Despite the sheer sense of unidentified wonder that filled him every time a dragon passed along the line of boys, he couldn't help but fear the larger of the dragons that passed him. He was slightly grateful when many of them didn't even spare the little healer boy a second glance, although a strange pang yanked at his heartstrings every time they passed him up. He wished it was stop doing that. Emotions could be awfully taxing.
Most of the hatching was passing the fazed candidate in a swift blur of events. Receiving the exciting news that the eggs were hatching, just as he was putting down his new volume of healing techniques for the night; donning overlarge, unfamiliar robes and sandals; the darkness of the autumn night as the candidates were quickly ushered towards many of their destinies; the dry heat of the sands that enveloped them upon their rushed arrival; the hatching of the Spiritoso bronze accompanied by the frenzied applause, shouts, and whistles. The clapping of hands still confused Harutan, even after the Spiritoso bronze, his Leggiero green sister, the Secco blue, the Col Legno brown (who impressed someone he actually recognized), and the Sospirando brown had all chosen. Every time their eyes had turned a vibrant rainbow of swirling colors, and their apparent chosen exposed their dragons' name, the stands arrupted in a loud, harsh noise that sounded almost like large drops of rain falling on cold stone during a storm. The first time they began making that fear provoking noise, Harutan couldn't help but nearly jump out of his pale skin. The second time caught him almost as nearly by surprise. But the third time... the third time, Harutan made sure to discover the source of that frightening noise. Certainly there was a reason for it... He had glanced over at the stands, and noticed that nearly everyone was hitting their hands together at various speeds and intensities. Could that possibly be it? He watched as the ceased their clapping, and when the hands stopped moving, the sound stopped coming. Feeling rather proud of himself for discovering the source of the unsettling noise, he returned his eager attentions to the newest of the rocking eggs; the Appassionato. He faintly wondered if anyone else was puzzled about the clapping as he had previously been, but soon dismissed the idea as he watched the hatching egg with greater intensity. Even though it was at the very back of the clutch, only Mancando being further away, the hysterical tossing and pitching of the cracking egg made it hard for the movement-orientated paranoia that belonged to Harutan to allow the boy to miss it. Just when it seemed to reach it most passionate rocking, the egg fell over, and out spilling the most vibrant green that Harutan had every seen in his brief experience with dragons. His eyes widened slightly as he watched the dragon curiously. The vibrant green was simply sitting there. Staring. Staring at her sibling's egg. Not rushing towards the candidates or making a slow, careful patrol as many of the others had done. No, this one was patiently cheering on her younger sibling, who seemed to be having trouble hatching. Once again, pangs of an unfamiliar sense, almost akin to fear, pulled at his heart, trying to simultaneously yank it upwards and downwards. Just when he thought it would burst as the egg slowed down its rocking, it too fell over, spilling its previous occupant onto the sands. The Appassionato dragonet seemed relieved to finally have her muddy green sister on the sands with her, yet still worried over the smaller one's welfare. However, the pitiful little green managed to stand, and walk across the remains of the clutch towards the remains of the candidates. He thought he saw the Appassionato green part with her sister to examine the female candidates, but it was only a glimpse, for suddenly his attention was focused solely on the Mancando green. She was stumbling... her exhausted limbs were wobbling pitifully, and the poor hatchling was crying piteously. But why? With so many people out there, around him and in the stands, couldn't she find her bonded? Couldn't her bonded help her out of her predicament?
A sudden calm spread over him, and he felt as if he was curled up in his favorite corner, watching Daerin patching up some wound or another on one of their more frequent visitors; a young, rambunctious weyrbrat. He felt utterly at peace. So at peace, that he almost missed the swirling rainbow hues that began consuming the more pained tones of the Mancando green's eyes.
And then it hit him. His stomach quickly ceased its acrobatic stunts, and came crashing back down into reality. It felt empty; so, very, horribly, unbearably empty. Almost as if a very tall, very scary person suddenly snuck up behind him and put his hands on his shoulders. However, it was hunger instead of fear that made him feel as if he would rather like to double over and curl up into a little ball. However, the calm feeling from before still lingered at the edges of his mind, promising better times to come.
Jerrerin-mine... mewled a pitiful yet loving voice in his mind, following up her (certainly it sounded feminine...) previous pleading.
She was talking to him... and by she, he was certain it was the green Mancando! His lovely Mandorrath had chosen him! He was thrilled, but at the same time very hungry and very worried for his new life mate’s welfare.
"I am coming, Mandorrath..." Harutan said quietly, yet soothingly, as he quickly covered the few feet that still lay between him and his dear Mandorrath. The small boy couldn't help but caress his dragonet's head for a moment before realizing what he had to do next. He had to help his Mandorrath to the feeding tables. However, even if his green was the smallest of the clutch, she was still huge compared to the small boy. He wouldn't be able to lend her any strength physically, for he had none himself... but maybe he would be able to give her the mental support to get her to the tables.
"The feeding tables are not that far off, Mandorrath-mine... you only need to walk a little further...” Harutan coaxed, letting his green lean against him as much as she needed to, as he helped her make her way towards the tables. The short journey was hard for the both of them, however. Mandorrath's wobbly, weak limbs nearly gave out on her completely many a time before they got to the tables, and they had to stop fairly often for either one or the other to catch their breath. Even is Mandorrath was tiny for a dragon, she still weighed a whole lot more than a sack of firestone did, as Harutan soon found out.
However, once they came within sight of the tables, Mandorrath perked up quite a bit.
Look, Jerrerin-mine! It is Syndrath and hers! Mandorrath exclaimed, putting extra emphasis on Syndrath's name.
"Who...?" Harutan wondered briefly, but when he looked in the direction that his dragonet was looking, he immediately noticed the Appassionato green. She was a hard one to miss.
Let's go over there, Jerrerin-mine! Mandorrath said with as much excitement as an utterly exhausted and terribly hungry dragon could muster. Despite being very puzzled by his dragon's attachment, he was willing to brave being around new people if it meant his lovely Mandorrath was happy.
With their destination now firmly set, the pair continued on their still rather slow way towards the food tables, and Syndrath. Upon reaching the tables, Harutan could not help but heave a sigh of relief. He and his Mandorrath had made it. It had probably taken a good deal of time, because when he looked back over his shoulder at the clutch, it had seemed that 9 more dragons had either hatched or impressed by the time they had made it to the tables. Why, even the gold was out and on the sands before the candidates now.
Syndrath! Jerrerin-mine and I have made it! Mandorrath announced to her beloved sister happily, glad to be by the slightly older green's side again at last. Meanwhile, Harutan was feeling very shy, and was avoiding looking at the nearby Syndrath and her unknown rider as he looked for a suitable bowl of meat to feed his Mandorrath. His stomach churned slightly at the chopped up raw meat, but no more so than when he was watching Daerin set a particularly nasty broken arm. Finding one that seemed to contain particularly well-marbled meat, he picked it up gingerly, and then set it down carefully in front of his green.
Without a word said by either dragonling or weyrling, although a pulse of gratefulness was sent from the draconic half of the bond to the human side, the green dug in voraciously. Harutan watched his dragon, still utterly fascinated by the creature that decided to spend her entire life with him. For the moment, nothing else except his Mandorrath existed to the boy, not even the nearby bigger dragonets and weyrlings that still sent instinctive shivers up his spine.

Reflection

Ha! I finished this assignment before we even started it in class! w007! Life is good. I must say that this assignment had its shares of difficulties and easy spots, just as any other assignment would.
What could probably be considered the hardest part was modifying the template to my liking. I'm not very experienced with html, and what little experience I've had with it took place a couple of years ago. However, the template is not made in html, and maybe not even css. I'm not quite sure what it is. All I know is that I found it very helpfull that I had taken Computer Programming last year. The template seems to work very similarly to the way a C++ program runs. In any case, after a couple hours' worth of messing around and expiramenting, I managed to turn the dark minima into what it is now. The picture on the header I found on google and chopped up until I got what I wanted. It turned out pretty well, I think.
The easiest part was copying and pasting the assignments onto the blog. Spellchecking and such was pretty easy, too. Typing up the journals was also very easy. And filling out the profile. That was very, very easy.
However, I found it quite difficult to refrain from spouting profanities in the random question box. I don't even want to know how drugged up the person who made those questions was. I mean, seriously. 'If dirt and water make mud, what is clay?' What kind of question is that? As a joke, I was going to quote a geology page that I googled that had a nice, long detailed explaination, but the site told me that I had to have 150 words or less. That sucks. I shuffled through the questions for a while, and then just gave up on it. If they're going to give me a random question, they might as well give me a good funny one that makes sense. Random does not necessarily mean 'spoutings and inquirees of a drugee'. There's enough of that in school without having to get it from some blog site.
Well, I reflected, ranted, raved... and remembered that I have some AP language & composition and AP psychology homework to do. That's all... for now.

Journal XIX - September 29th, 2005

I am not a big, purple, hairy, green-blue-whiter-striped, winged, tailed, toothy, evil, webbed-toed, 6-foot-long-fingered, scaled, bad-tempered, msichevious, snouted, flowing yellow-eyed, porpose-tailed, fish eating, berry eating, elephant eating, fire breathing, water breathing, clawed, five-stomached, hairy-chested, head chopping, bone gnashing, hand chewing, motherless, fatherless, mindless, uncaring, ingenius, ingamous, bright-plumaged, foul-breathed, tarred and feathred, plotting, planning, procrastinating, jeering, leering, impolite, immaculate, gerbil eating, scum sucking, loud sneezing, rhaspy breathing, phlegm coughing, choking, wheezing, whooping, hacking, unimaginative, unintelligent, football catching, football kicking, chocolate milk drinking, deep-fat-fried, extra crispy, original, herb spiced, char-broiled, baked, shaken, stiffed, stir crazy, stir fried, refried untried, unproven, argumentative, stubborn, cruel, sadistic, masochistic, torturing, insane, inhumane, murdering, suicidal, sniveling, drooling, unschooled, risk taking, egg-laying, crowing, mowing, mooing, quacking, growling, snarling, screaming, yelling, shouting, timid, weak, unsocial, unbehooving, unbenevolent, malevolent, cheating, gambling, alcohol-breathed, onion-breathed, bean-breathed, hoarse-voiced, horse-voiced, gravely voiced, unknown, unheard of, secretive, back-stabbing, candy-stealing, cat burgling, gang-leading, cow hearding, cowboy eating, hat wearing, snotty nosed, dirt tracking, mud eating, hedge trimming, crossdressing, fish selling giraffe, and a bag of chips. Or at least, I wasn't the last time that I checked.

Journal XXXI - October 18, 2005

I couldn't help but wonder where I went wrong. Why the hell did that solution explode? Yes, I know I used unstable chemicals that when added together make an even more unstable chemical. Yes, I know I had to use extremely precise measurements. I used the most advanced technology available in my field of expertise. And yet, I still find myself here with half of my face and a hand mysteriously missing. What the hell?
I've done more complicated experiments than this successfully before. What made this one any different? Seriously. 10 years of school, a bachelor's degree, a master's degree, and a PhD... All down the drain, all for naught. I repeat, what the hell?
The pain of my missing hand and upper left face is starting to sink in now. It's pretty painful. I should probably dial 9-1-1. I wonder if I can do that with one hand and half of a mouth. I wonder if hospitals can receive text messages. Most likely not. They probably can't read chat speak anyways.
A flash of white swirls past on the edge of my vision, and lands in front of me. It's the beginnings of my former colleague's notes on the experiment that I was carrying out. Poor ol' Steve had had a heart attack last Tuesday, and I had decided to take over for him. I thought that I could handle it. Apparently not.
My remaining eye scans the page quickly, trying to pick out my mistake from among the ingredients and procedures.
Hey-- wait a minute! Was that a tablespoon or a teaspoon?

Journal XXXIII - October 25th, 2005

I told you so. I really hate to say it, but... I told you so. I told you that parachuting is dangerous. And now here I am with an arm full of flowers that you know fully well that I'm allergic to, and here you are stone cold and six feet under in a suit of the same wool that I know gives you hives. Your parents wouldn't have it any other way. I thought it'd be funny if you were buried wrapped in a parachute, but you're parents just don't have my kind of humor, I guess. Your parents and I never really did see eye to eye.
Then again, neither did we. And now there are several feet of dirt and clay, a lacquered wooden casket, some padding, and one of those miniature toy army parachuters between your eyes and mine. Yeah, I did manage to throw that in before it was too late. I suppose I had the last laugh after all. I usually do.
You should've listened to me, y'know. Jumping out of an airplane thousands of feet above the ground... what was going through your mind? I wonder. I suppose it must have been thrilling at first, exciting and amazing. Maybe it even felt like you were flying instead of hurtling towards your death. I wonder. And how did it feel when you tugged on the string and no parachute came out? I wonder. Terrifying and indescribably horrible, I suppose. But now I have allergies and you have hives and are six feet under. I guess I'll never know.