Shades of the Pure

Shades of the Pure

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Welcome to 2100. This is a time of logic. This is a time; where the world must be saved. They strip us or our identity. They make us try to ave the world. When we were little girls. This can only end one way. We can save it, or we can end it.

254 readers have visited Shades of the Pure since unicornlover2121 created it.

Introduction

It was never meant to be this way. I'm sure of it. Why would any person want to make a little girl do his freaking bidding? I didn't even know what bidding was back then. I probably would have thought of the auctions that mother used to take me to, before she sent me here. Just because she thought I was not pure. I apparently needed to be part of this whole block of madness. They paid her, but I just was... There. The place mom had always raved about.

To become a part of this new ‘System’ thing. The thing I never understood and still don't understand. That thing where they make the strong girls out in the wilderness, and the weak ones into the dark. The darkness they had to climb out of, slowly. Once they had gained strength.. I'm not talking about that process.

I grew up, thinking life was mine. I would smile and laugh along with my cronies, making fun of those little girls with glasses or crutches and all of that stuff. When I was freaking seven. But the little girls didn't care. They didn't know that I meant hurt to the girls. All that they knew is that I'd convinced them they were powerful. And in our generation, it's all about power. Nothing matters more

' For power is everything when you have nothing. ' That's what mother would say, before she threw me into hell. I don't have power anymore. My long locks were chopped off, leaving an uneven wedge. Then they dyed it. All black. Only black. They dressed me in black leather. I didn't even know what they were doing, chopping my hair with a knife. But I followed along.
I was beautiful, before then. My hair was a stunning gold, it reaching down in waves to my back. My figure had been small, dainty. Not anymore. My hair is now black with dye, the golden roots looking odd on the black background, even if they are taking over the head. It’s also shorter then before, and very much so. My figure had changed as I grew older, and worked harder and harder to survive.
Mom was never very mean. She gave me what I wanted if it was reasonable, smiled sweetly at me. But then, I did it. I sKilled father. It was a accident, of course. Nothing I meant to do. But when mom caught me with the chandelier draped over his bleeding head and a wicked grin on my face, she guessed. It was simply fun and games! He made a joke about falling chandeliers, and I threw something at it. I was just a little kid, not knowing it would fall. It's not my fault!

But it was bad. Mom sent me away the first chance she could.

I'd heard allot about the system. It was a evil man who ran it, that went by the name of ''Savior,'' who clearly wasn't here to save us. He took little girls, only little girls, and classified them. He ran them through a series of trails the others didn't know about. But I was soon to find out.

They sent me away about a week after the accident, and I could see mom counting the bills from the window of the old breaking down bus. The day was more hot then usual, even though there is no such thing as cold, anymore. The man got into the bus shortly after, and started to drive away. At this time, my hair was still blonde. My hands and feet were not stiff with sores.

The path was long, and bumpy. We seemed to be going through the world's thickest fog. It was blackish in color, more like smoke. We rode for a long time, stuffing about fifty kids onto the bus. Everyone sat it in deadly silence, not uttering a word. It was the scariest moment of out lives, or at least so far.

The building they lead us to was grand, a mansion, almost. It had no windows, and looked old. Very old. The bus skidded to a sudden halt, almost giving me a heart attack. The man stood up, and muttered a ''Follow,'' with a cold look in his eyes. I followed, my eyes wide with fear as I tried to stay near the end of the group. I saw a few girls striding, like they were proud to be here. Most of us hung back, however.

After awhile of walking, we reached a room, that's walls were pure black. They straightened us into a untidy line, and took the first girl, into a different room. I heard her muffled cries, meaning they were doing something the future unsuccessful white didn't like. I heard the sound of footsteps, then more. They took the next girl over. It went on like this, taking the next girl, then the next. I stood nearer to the back, shivering. I didn't want to be strong. I knew I had to be.

They took me in, the men dressed in all black. The men seemed odd in the room of girls, like a black spot on a white sea. They took me in, their glares making me shiver. They tore at my clothing, making it drop to the floor. They replaced it with a black leather shirt that reached my rib cage, and short shorts that were much too short.
Taking a knife, they took away any sign that my hair was ever long, cutting it as close to the scalp as they could, with a single movement of the knife. They covered my hair in some sort of black goo, that the rain would wash away later to leave my hair pitch black. They stuffed me into another room, where I saw other girls. Some had a white chalky substance on their hair, slowly eating away at the color. Others were the same as me. The ones with the white still has the same length of hair, while the blacks were like me, short. Everyone of the same category was dressed the same, white in a long, white silk dress with a open back, and the others like me.

Everyone but a few had looks of pure terror on their faces. I, as I found myself in a mirror, saw the nonchalant look on my face. But it was tearing at me on the inside, scaring me like well. It was everything I had hoped wouldn’t happen.

Once every last girl had been stuffed into the room, the men came in. They took whips that were on the floor in the corners, and opened a door. In front of the doors, stood girls with checkered suits. Every one of them had looks of hatred on their faces. They looked like sergeants from a movie about war.

''OK, Listen up little girlies. You are to follow me. You are to not make a sound. You are to do whatever I tell you to. Understand? I simply nodded a yes. They started to lead me through a complex set of hallways, the men surrounding us. We bumped into each other at least a million times. It took a long time, turning left, then right, then right again. By the time we reached the room, a few of us had fainted.

The room we reached was like a dome, and gigantic. The checker women arranged us into two groups, white, and black. We sat in lines, like we were crawling. They then pushed on our backs until we knew to flatten. The men had sick grins on their faces, like they were about to do something they enjoyed.

The men took their whips, and walked over to the end of the lines. Then they slashed them. It was scary, watching them. We were all confused. The girl was crying, on the white side. On the black, she was holding back her tears. Nothing was right, here. Wrong filled the air.

They moved on to the next girls. I saw the checkered women writing notes in their notepads, studying everyone. Only three whites managed to keep their eyes dry, and didn’t scream. Most of the blacks did, some of them even looking up in annoyance. This just gave them a slash to the face.

Time seemed to be moving like a snail. I wanted to scream. I wanted it over with. Well, what I really wanted was to be back home. Even the stern and hateful glares from my mother would be better then this. I wonder how much they paid her. I thought, bitterly. My thoughts were constantly changing, but all stayed on the dilemma– I was here. I was where the place where mother sent me. And I hated her now.

Finally it came. The footsteps that were coming towards me were like cannons being blasted into my ears. As they reached me, the first strike came. A simple tingle, a slash on the back that would leave a scar. It was odd, how we were constructed. Our skin had turned to iron over the ages. The slashes got harder. Harder. Harder. I eventually got enough of the pain to snap. “Stop! You minuscule men, stop! If your trying to hurt us, good job, because you ARE. And I will NOT let you keep on doing it.” I said, kicking the man in the shin. He growled as I got up, and started running to the nearest hallway. But a checkered woman caught me by the arm. She growled, but then her face calmed. ''Congratulations. You have been chosen. Follow me.'' I tried to struggle, but her grip was iron. So I finally gave in, and followed her. She never one let go of my arm. I saw others in the same predicament.

They lead me to a room that had pure white walls, fed me, let me sleep, tended to the whip wounds… for about three days. It was paradise. We were being pampered, and the air condition was actually working. I left nothing but bliss.

But the next day we found ourselves in a new room. A glass dome, stretching for what we couldn’t see the end of. There was no escape. We were all sat in a circle, all eyes wide awake. None of them were filled with fear.

We, were all the Shades of the Pure. From the most evil to the world’s nicest. And we, we would be victorious.

Other things-
You may play as a white or a black. Blacks have black hair; whites have white.
No god modding. You know the drill.
Don’t expect everything to bend to your own will.
No inexperienced roleplayers, please.
Limited to ten people. Four white, six black. No exceptions.
We start in the forest.
No romance. Obviously.
Minor to major violence is allowed.
Grammar is mandatory
Blacks have short hair. Whites can have whatever.
They all start in the forest in a circle.
White are not strong: weak in battle, stronger in mind. They think things through carefully. They never however speak their opinions.
Black are stronger in battle, but can be balanced. Some of them speak their opinion.
White are always, always, ALWAYS scared of (almost) EVERYTHING. Keep this in mind before you choose.
This plot is just for the beginning, not for farther on. I have many things planned for this, but they will come in time.

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