The new law: Women are illegal. What do the women do? They fight back.

Name: Ambrosia
Age:16
Eyes: bright blue with black specks
Hair: long black curly hair
Body: 5'2'', dancer legs, hourglass figure
Personality: She is frail and easily influenced. She is dramatic.
Bio: She was the only child and she ran away from home after witnessing her father brutally murder her mother after the law was put in place
Picture (if you have one):
Other Info: Ambrosia is in love with falling in love and is easily manipulated.

Want me to start? Thanks for joining, love your charrie!

Yes and thanks

Bryanna: The rain is falling in thick sheets tonight.
I'm hunched over in the mud, hiding behind a thick patch of trees. I've been alone for a year now. The last time I saw another girl was when my sister was decapitated in front of me.
The kingdom has shinning silver bricks that pierce light through the dark night. I hustle, my backpack of little food and supplies banging on my back, a silver knife with dried blood in my pocket.
That knife has done a lot of damage.
I see a figure in the bushes near me. I turn my head, and the figure is slim, feminine. It must be a trick, they must have found me.
Panic races in me. I've been caught before, and raped, too, but I've always gotten away in the end, letting the men die in their blood.
I stop dead, staring at the figure.

Ambrosia - I hear movement, then I don't. I look and see a feminine figure. I stay quiet at first but then I hear a man behind me and whisper towards the feminine figure. "Who's there?"

Bryanna: So there is a man.
The need to kill him fires up, and I become a girl with a cool head, and a new goal.
Kill whoever is over there.
I creep silently over. I've mastered this art. Through the trees, weaving in and out, close to the figure.
I jump on it suddenly, the legs trapped in mine, bound by my feet, the arms forced behind a long back, head pushed back by my strong hand over the mouth. My other hand pulls out a knife slowly, the metal reflecting light from the moon.
I get a look at the face.
[iHer][/i] face.

Ambrosia - I gasp quietly. "There is a man behind me, about fifteen feet or so." I whisper.

Bryanna: I put a finger to my lips with the knife hand, showing her to be quiet. Then I motion my hands down, showing her to stay put.
I slowly get off her, not taking time to study her female features, and my eyes lock with the man.
He has no time to scream. I get him in the hold I had the girl, and he frantically tries to escape but fails.
"I'm going to go easy on you, because you didn't hurt me. But you are a guard."
I take the knife and press the tip down on both his eyes. Then I place it, sharp side ready, inches above the throat. I let him squirm for a little with longer, and then press it in deep easily.
Blood gets all over me. I roll off him and wipe away the blood. He's silent and still now.
I walk over to the girl and measure her reaction.

Ambrosia - I breathe deeply and don't look her in the eyes. I hated death, killing, and all the above. I watched the man be still and sighed, "A pity." I frown. It was all the king's fault.

Bryanna: I see she doesn't like my brutal killings. That much is obvious.
"Did the men say that when they slaughtered the whole lot of us? No, they said, 'Good riddance'!" I whisper hiss.
I know I'm being mean, but that's just who I am.
"So, what's your name?"

Ambrosia - I wince at her comment. "Ambrosia." I tell her. "They might have not said that as a whole, but I'm sure some were thinking it."

Bryanna: "Men agree one things, because they're all the same. They're all unforgivable murderers. Enough said. I'm Bryanna."
I liked her gentle, forgiving nature, but it wouldn't get her far in a world like this.
"How have you been surviving?"

Ambrosia - "Good question." I laugh sadly. "I don't even know. I've been lucky."

I think I'll join...just five me a moment or two.

yay!

Name: Molly Ann Curtis
Age: 16
Eyes: Medium brown that looks golden in the light.
Hair: Dyed several different shades of green, curly an just touches her shoulder.
Body: Curvy and a bit top heavy, 5'8"
Personality: She's a bit out there, a southern tech head and gun enthusiast, can be lazy at time's and a tad dramatic. Always has a toothpick in her mouth.
Bio: Grew up in a home with seven older brothers who tried to keep others from finding out about her. But they were caught and she just barely escaped when one of them distracted the police. She's now wanted in the south.
Picture:

nice

One of my favorite characters is about to die in another chat.
She would probably be his southern cousin. Or something...
By the way, not to be a nag but are you coming back to London? I sent a message but you neve replied.

yeah I am. Sorry I'm trying to think of a way to get back in.

I can help get you situated again if you want.
And where can I come in on this?

just be in the woods and run into us.

Molly Ann:
"Son of a bitch!" I yell as my trench coat snags onto another bush. What was this, like the third thing I've gotten caught up in? Mother nature and I need to have a little talk about this. I swear, I pop a few holes in some trees and suddenly she's got it out for me! I put my foot up on a tree and start to wrestle it free. "C'mon, babe, work with me here. I don't have time for this!" Suddenly the branch snaps and I go careening onto my back. Lovely.

Bryanna: Sounds of breaking trees startle me.
"Must be some clumsy fat guy. I'll deal with him," I say with a smile.
I turn around, and slink on the ground slowly, belly rubbing the forest floor. Some figure is below a tree, on their back, and I can hear them curse from over here.
It's a female voice.
I figure I must be wrong. Two girls in one day? Not likely. Probably new technology.
I slink closer, and watch the figure closely, knife ready in my pocket.

Molly Ann:

Ever get that feeling that you're being watched? I move my toothpick around a bit and raise an eyebrow. Great, just when I think I finally got away from those sex crazed junkies. Although maybe I'm just being paranoid again... Definately wouldn't be the first time. I slowly sit up and rub my shoulder. "Hey, perv," I call, wincing a bit. Fuck, that'll definately be a bruise tomorrow. "If you want a date why don't you just come out and ask instead of being a peeping Tom?" My favorite weapon, a high tech machine gun I'd stolen from a soldier, dangles from the strap on my back.