I'm back from HELL. ...okay...so maybe not Hell, but something like it I guess. Anyway. I've missed a heck of a lot, and I'm not even entirely sure if everyone's alive now, but I'm here again.

And thank you for the complimentary post on good_rpers_rock, Dru! If you're still alive and kickin' it, that is.

Post a comment, and I'll let you in on what Sherry thinks of your character.

Contribute to the failing of my first block final tomorrow, please, 'cause I'm really supposed to be studying for it right now. No one said Math had to be interesting.

So, I looked at my profile a couple'a minutes ago. Holy smokes.

I have a paid account! =D

My email's not workin', so I don't know who got it. But thank you, whoever you are! ^^

Sherry keeps Eileen's number behind the picture of her mother and father, which stands, framed, to the left of her alarm clock on her nightstand. She sits by her own cellphone, just in case, and paces to and fro a lot, so you can say she's kind of worried about Claire. Kind of paranoid, too, for whatever reason.

As of now? She's sitting cross-legged on the floor, near the dresser, the Molly, and her cellphone, drinking a glass of orange juice. She's also reading a thick novel by Edith Pattou, which is another futile attempt to clear her mind. She reaches over and pets Molly every once in a while, who obliges by licking happily at the palm of her hand.

Yep. Everything's cool here.

Things've been pretty hectic. By the look of things, they are going be even more hectic.

Considering I live through the tornado threat we've been hit with this afternoon, I've got some school work to catch up on this weekend. Then I'll be gone the majority of next week because of the competition I've got.

So, yeah. Woo-hoo.

EDIT: I'm alive. The worst part is over, all is well. :)

"Hold still."

This is Sherry, talking to Molly with the same frustrated tone she used the last forty times she moved. They are both sitting out on the 5th floor hallway: Sherry off and to the side with her art material near, and Molly, tongue hanging out, wagging her tail happily in the very center. Sherry almost embraces the sketchpad she's holding to add more finer details to the puppy's sketch; it's starting to look quite lifelike. But alas, it's hard to draw a moving target...and since Molly keeps shaking her head and doing other puppy things, she's having trouble drawing her cute facial expression.

Molly moves, Sherry scorns. Molly moves again, Sherry glares. Molly moves again...Sherry thinks "screw it" and does nothing physically.

Fine. Fine. If she wants to look like a deformed hooligan, well, that's her decision.

((Open thread.))

Your Birthdate: August 12

You're a dynamic, charismatic person who's possibly headed for fame. You tend to charm strangers easily. And you usually can get what you want from them. Verbally talented, you tend to persuade people with your speaking and writing. You are affectionate and loving, but it's hard for you to commit to any one relationship. Your strength: Your charm Your weakness: Your extreme manipulation tactics Your power color: Indigo Your power symbol: Four leaf clover Your power month: December

Um. Okay.

...yeah. So I got into a fight with my mother yesterday and got grounded. I hate not being 18.

If we're going to do this whole Sherry thing, it'll probably have to be Nexus LOL'd big time, or when I'm in school.

Sorry, guys.

The ceiling must be pretty darn interesting; she's been staring at it intently for about an hour and a half, now.

The Oh-So Adorable Demon, formerly known as Molly, is in her room. She's been whining and yipping and growling her disapproval throughout the entire time, but Sherry obviously does not care. Her mind's too far gone into the trenches of God-knows-where, for a reason well-known.

Oh, the joys of contemplation.

Okay. So Claire suddenly got ridiculously paranoid and applied iron bars to her windows, as well as a new deadbolt lock to the entranceway and a burglar alarm.

Did something happen?

Sherry decides to ask her whenever she comes back from walking Molly.

You've got it lots of times before, but guess what? You're gettin' it again!

Happy Valentine's Day, mother truckers.

Ever since she and Claire returned from their little tour, situations had sort of quickly evolved into what they were at current. And if they continued down the route they were traveling, she was probably going to die of something like dehydration.

Sherry was in her bed, drifting in and out of consciousness every so often, with a considerable fever that appeared out of nowhere at all. She had already thrown up 3 times today -- that same dark brown liquid mixed with whatever she ate -- but by the look of her peaceful form as she slept, she was finally experiencing a moment's peace.

It would last. Hopefully.

She woke up with this feeling, what felt a lot like anxiety with a tinch of...Okay, so it was mostly unexplainable. But Sherry was absolutely, positively, certainly, and unquestionably sure something was not right. And these feelings of hers were true a lot of the time, considering past events.

Likewise, she had searched for this mystery source -- had she thrown something away on accident? had she forgotten to hide her diary? had she lost anything of sentimental value? -- and came up with absolutely nothing at all, save for an elevated dose of these sensations.

It was...off to say the very least, but maybe it was just her imagination.