Post by Samira on Apr 4, 2012 21:18:31 GMT -5
[dohtml]<center><div style="background-color: #d2626f; width: 400px; padding-bottom: 4px;"></div>
<img src="http://i.imgur.com/kSbn1.png">
<br><div style="background-color: #d2626f; width:400px; font-family:dorsa; font-size: 30px; letter-spacing: 10px; color: #ffffff; text-transform: uppercase; ">CASSANDRA MARIE EDWARDS</div>
<div style="background-color: #92c8c8; width:400px; font-family:georgia; font-size: 8px; letter-spacing: 5px; color: #000; text-transform: uppercase; ">SIXTEEN - SIXTH/STUDENT - HALF-BLOOD - OC</div>
<div style="width: 400px; font-family: georgia; text-align: justify; font-size: 6.5pt; padding: 3px;"><b>FULL NAME:</b>
<div style="background-color: #d2626f; width: 400px; padding-bottom: 2px;"></div>
<div style="width: 400px; font-family: georgia; text-align: justify; font-size: 6.5pt; padding: 3px;"><b>EYES:</b>
<div style="background-color: #d2626f; width: 400px; padding-bottom: 2px;"></div>
<div style="width: 400px; font-family: georgia; text-align: justify; font-size: 6.5pt; padding: 3px;"><b>PATRONUS:</b>
Breaks rules without compunction
Makes split-second judgments
[/ul]<br><b>PERSONALITY:</b>
<div style="background-color: #d2626f; width: 400px; padding-bottom: 2px;"></div>
<div style="width: 400px; font-family: georgia; text-align: justify; font-size: 6.5pt; padding: 3px;"><b>PARENTS:</b>
<div style="background-color: #d2626f; width: 400px; padding-bottom: 2px;"></div>
<div style="width: 400px; font-family: georgia; text-align: justify; font-size: 6.5pt; padding: 3px;">The scent of dust and rotting wood clogged his nostrils as Prophet entered the house – or what was left of it, anyway. Shafts of sunlight pried between the boards over the west windows, and dust motes danced languidly where the golden light lay. The door behind him creaked ominously in the soft breeze from outside, and he stepped forward slowly, silently, gun extended in front of him. Everything in this place looked as if it hadn’t been disturbed in years. The dust hung like a shroud over broken furniture – a sofa long since gutted by mice, a few chairs with broken legs and backs, a rocker with the woven seat hanging in shreds and one rocker cracked. A fly buzzed in one corner, and in the emptiness of the apparently abandoned house it sounded loud and crass. He heard Mick entering behind him as he rounded the doorway into the kitchen.
“Clear.” His voice died in the soft shadows of the empty room and he looked around in vain for more doorways before returning to the entryway. There wasn’t even the ticking of a clock to break the silence, as there had been in the last house. Usually that would have pleased him, but there was something uncanny about the dead air in here. They had to have the right place; it fit the profile exactly, and they’d found Bryson’s sedan parked off to one side. We’re finding this creep and taking him in. There was no back door – or at least, there wasn’t anymore. Whoever had owned this place last had bricked it over. Bryson had to be in here, somewhere.
The stairs curved up from the corner of the living-room. Some of the spokes on the handrail were broken. It reminded him of the spine of some long neglected skeleton, rising eerily from the dim room and disappearing into shadows up above. The first stair was silent under his feet, but the second let out a groan that sounded almost human. He ignored the cold shudder that crept down his spine and continued, eyes darting around the dusty shadows on the second level. He tested each step gingerly, warily – this place could come crashing down around them at any minute, from the looks of it. The first doorway was an empty linen closet, with termite damage on all the shelves. The second was a bedroom. What had once been curtains hung like tattered ghosts over boarded-up windows. The closet door was missing. His flashlight beam showed it gaping empty, except for the hanger rod, which rested at an angle with one end on the floor and the other still in its socket on the wall. He swept his beam cursorily under the bed, revealing nothing but dust and mouse-nests.
In the dark he almost missed the door in the corner. It was sagging on its hinges, partway open. It squeaked as he nudged it open with his foot and spun into the room, gun first as always. A bathroom, he realized. The mirror was so dulled it barely reflected the flashlight’s beam. The toilet was ancient, cracked porcelain, and probably dry. The bathtub looked as if it hadn’t been used in years; it was coated with dust and old hard-water stains and the knob on the left had been broken off entirely. And in the corner – What the …? It looked like a corpse, but … He prodded it with his gun and it swung around, the rope creaking with its weight. He shuddered.
“We’re clear, guys; I found Bryson.”
</div>
<div style="background-color: #d2626f; width: 400px; padding-bottom: 2px;"></div>
<div style="background-color: #92c8c8; width:400px; font-family:georgia; font-size: 8px; letter-spacing: 2px; color: #000; text-transform: uppercase; ">Sami - text 434-485-5942 - six years - 19 - NORAH JONES - Female</div>
<div style="background-color: #d2626f; width: 400px; padding-bottom: 2px;"></div>
<div style="background-color: #dcd698; width:400px; font-family:dorsa; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 15px; color: #ffffff; text-transform: uppercase; ">PANDAYU @ CAUTION 2.0</div></center>[/dohtml]
<img src="http://i.imgur.com/kSbn1.png">
<br><div style="background-color: #d2626f; width:400px; font-family:dorsa; font-size: 30px; letter-spacing: 10px; color: #ffffff; text-transform: uppercase; ">CASSANDRA MARIE EDWARDS</div>
<div style="background-color: #92c8c8; width:400px; font-family:georgia; font-size: 8px; letter-spacing: 5px; color: #000; text-transform: uppercase; ">SIXTEEN - SIXTH/STUDENT - HALF-BLOOD - OC</div>
<div style="width: 400px; font-family: georgia; text-align: justify; font-size: 6.5pt; padding: 3px;"><b>FULL NAME:</b>
<div style="background-color: #d2626f; width: 400px; padding-bottom: 2px;"></div>
<div style="width: 400px; font-family: georgia; text-align: justify; font-size: 6.5pt; padding: 3px;"><b>EYES:</b>
<div style="background-color: #d2626f; width: 400px; padding-bottom: 2px;"></div>
<div style="width: 400px; font-family: georgia; text-align: justify; font-size: 6.5pt; padding: 3px;"><b>PATRONUS:</b>
Breaks rules without compunction
Makes split-second judgments
[/ul]<br><b>PERSONALITY:</b>
<div style="background-color: #d2626f; width: 400px; padding-bottom: 2px;"></div>
<div style="width: 400px; font-family: georgia; text-align: justify; font-size: 6.5pt; padding: 3px;"><b>PARENTS:</b>
<div style="background-color: #d2626f; width: 400px; padding-bottom: 2px;"></div>
<div style="width: 400px; font-family: georgia; text-align: justify; font-size: 6.5pt; padding: 3px;">The scent of dust and rotting wood clogged his nostrils as Prophet entered the house – or what was left of it, anyway. Shafts of sunlight pried between the boards over the west windows, and dust motes danced languidly where the golden light lay. The door behind him creaked ominously in the soft breeze from outside, and he stepped forward slowly, silently, gun extended in front of him. Everything in this place looked as if it hadn’t been disturbed in years. The dust hung like a shroud over broken furniture – a sofa long since gutted by mice, a few chairs with broken legs and backs, a rocker with the woven seat hanging in shreds and one rocker cracked. A fly buzzed in one corner, and in the emptiness of the apparently abandoned house it sounded loud and crass. He heard Mick entering behind him as he rounded the doorway into the kitchen.
“Clear.” His voice died in the soft shadows of the empty room and he looked around in vain for more doorways before returning to the entryway. There wasn’t even the ticking of a clock to break the silence, as there had been in the last house. Usually that would have pleased him, but there was something uncanny about the dead air in here. They had to have the right place; it fit the profile exactly, and they’d found Bryson’s sedan parked off to one side. We’re finding this creep and taking him in. There was no back door – or at least, there wasn’t anymore. Whoever had owned this place last had bricked it over. Bryson had to be in here, somewhere.
The stairs curved up from the corner of the living-room. Some of the spokes on the handrail were broken. It reminded him of the spine of some long neglected skeleton, rising eerily from the dim room and disappearing into shadows up above. The first stair was silent under his feet, but the second let out a groan that sounded almost human. He ignored the cold shudder that crept down his spine and continued, eyes darting around the dusty shadows on the second level. He tested each step gingerly, warily – this place could come crashing down around them at any minute, from the looks of it. The first doorway was an empty linen closet, with termite damage on all the shelves. The second was a bedroom. What had once been curtains hung like tattered ghosts over boarded-up windows. The closet door was missing. His flashlight beam showed it gaping empty, except for the hanger rod, which rested at an angle with one end on the floor and the other still in its socket on the wall. He swept his beam cursorily under the bed, revealing nothing but dust and mouse-nests.
In the dark he almost missed the door in the corner. It was sagging on its hinges, partway open. It squeaked as he nudged it open with his foot and spun into the room, gun first as always. A bathroom, he realized. The mirror was so dulled it barely reflected the flashlight’s beam. The toilet was ancient, cracked porcelain, and probably dry. The bathtub looked as if it hadn’t been used in years; it was coated with dust and old hard-water stains and the knob on the left had been broken off entirely. And in the corner – What the …? It looked like a corpse, but … He prodded it with his gun and it swung around, the rope creaking with its weight. He shuddered.
“We’re clear, guys; I found Bryson.”
</div>
<div style="background-color: #d2626f; width: 400px; padding-bottom: 2px;"></div>
<div style="background-color: #92c8c8; width:400px; font-family:georgia; font-size: 8px; letter-spacing: 2px; color: #000; text-transform: uppercase; ">Sami - text 434-485-5942 - six years - 19 - NORAH JONES - Female</div>
<div style="background-color: #d2626f; width: 400px; padding-bottom: 2px;"></div>
<div style="background-color: #dcd698; width:400px; font-family:dorsa; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 15px; color: #ffffff; text-transform: uppercase; ">PANDAYU @ CAUTION 2.0</div></center>[/dohtml]
