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- Solace 13 yrs ago
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Marlowe,
Fetzen,
Scrawl Banditta,
flat lovenote
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Recent Statuses
8 yrs ago
Current
I love sixteen hour flights
9 yrs ago
Birthday, officially twenty years old today! yikes
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10 yrs ago
Happy Holidays, everyone! Enjoy the time with your families, and stay safe on your travels!
4
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10 yrs ago
It's my birthday! Another year towards twenty, woooooo
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10 yrs ago
For whoever comes to read this, continue being awesome. I'm rooting for you.
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Bio
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Most Recent Posts
I'll have one up either during this / next block, or after school.
I'll check out those character sheets tomorrow. I'm exhausted.
Yeah, that's about right. Not all of us should be together just yet
Yeah, that's about right. Not all of us should be together just yet
I don't think it is. I think it's unfair to not give others a chance to participate.
Yeah, give people a chance. :l
The sky was raining fire.
Arrows of scarlet haze rippled through the twilight horizon illuminated orange. Ash and charcoal scorched the suffocated atmosphere of virulent smog, unchallenged by the west wind. Corpses of men and women, all ages alike, lined the bloodied debris of ruins from what once stood as an outpost for justice.
Among the murdered and the children, a disheveled Zaino crawled. He cried and cried of the trauma and shock, unable to bring himself to utter a single syllable as he weakly reached out for his blade. He couldn't go on any longer. He was prepared to give up.
Wandering out of his memories, the crimson-stained swordsman trudged beyond the sands of mirage and into a mountainous region. A week, was it? Or was it two? Zaino was too weakened to care. He was starving, thirsty, exhausted, and wounded, all in a single package of ailments exclusively for him. His mouth ran arid as the desert he had traversed, and his cut-up apparel was no more than mere patches of clothing barely kept together by strings that distinguished him from clothed to naked.
"Guh," Zaino wretched, refusing to submit to the comfort of crumpling to the ground. His expressionless, grimy face carried on the weight of suffering as his eyelids covered his violet eyes halfway. He groaned and desired to salivate simply to rid of the dryness in his mouth, yet his body did not contain enough traces of fluids to even sweat. He dragged his feet along and in his fugue state, walked straight into the bark of a tree. He simply grunted once and forcefully shifted his body adjacently, resuming his zombie-like pace.
*Crash!*
Splotches of dry blood scattered along the blade and blemished its gleam in the sunlight as Zaino's right hand removed the sword from his scabbard, turning to the source of the sound. "Kill..." he cried more than spoke, closing his drooping mouth and gritting his teeth as his broken legs picked up in their steps. He trailed beyond the foliage and revealed a red-haired woman, cringing as the sight of another soul gripped his aggression. "Die!" he winced, raising the sword barely over the height of his shoulder. He released the temporary strength in his arm, allowing the sword to lead it down towards the woman.
Arrows of scarlet haze rippled through the twilight horizon illuminated orange. Ash and charcoal scorched the suffocated atmosphere of virulent smog, unchallenged by the west wind. Corpses of men and women, all ages alike, lined the bloodied debris of ruins from what once stood as an outpost for justice.
Among the murdered and the children, a disheveled Zaino crawled. He cried and cried of the trauma and shock, unable to bring himself to utter a single syllable as he weakly reached out for his blade. He couldn't go on any longer. He was prepared to give up.
Wandering out of his memories, the crimson-stained swordsman trudged beyond the sands of mirage and into a mountainous region. A week, was it? Or was it two? Zaino was too weakened to care. He was starving, thirsty, exhausted, and wounded, all in a single package of ailments exclusively for him. His mouth ran arid as the desert he had traversed, and his cut-up apparel was no more than mere patches of clothing barely kept together by strings that distinguished him from clothed to naked.
"Guh," Zaino wretched, refusing to submit to the comfort of crumpling to the ground. His expressionless, grimy face carried on the weight of suffering as his eyelids covered his violet eyes halfway. He groaned and desired to salivate simply to rid of the dryness in his mouth, yet his body did not contain enough traces of fluids to even sweat. He dragged his feet along and in his fugue state, walked straight into the bark of a tree. He simply grunted once and forcefully shifted his body adjacently, resuming his zombie-like pace.
*Crash!*
Splotches of dry blood scattered along the blade and blemished its gleam in the sunlight as Zaino's right hand removed the sword from his scabbard, turning to the source of the sound. "Kill..." he cried more than spoke, closing his drooping mouth and gritting his teeth as his broken legs picked up in their steps. He trailed beyond the foliage and revealed a red-haired woman, cringing as the sight of another soul gripped his aggression. "Die!" he winced, raising the sword barely over the height of his shoulder. He released the temporary strength in his arm, allowing the sword to lead it down towards the woman.
BUMP~
And boom, I posted.
Have fun. XD
Have fun. XD
Eh, we're not doing stats or anything here, so Dancers are kind of like... eye candy. XD
Miss Ottavio's eyes scanned Cyril, almost as if she had analyzed the boy completely and saw right through him. She blinked and broke the brief silence with another warm smile of hers, nodding to him. "That's good to hear," she said, placing a hand on her hip. Her sheen, black hair fell neatly past her shoulders and at the front, a few strands created curtain-like formations that covered her electric green eyes. Despite the fact that she would be entering her forties the coming year, she had often surprised suitors who believed her to be younger through this. Visibly troubled, she sighed. "I do hope his father returns soon... the boy hasn't had real parents in his life at all."
"GUPYAA!" Daisuke shouted as he came tumbling down the stairs, barely keeping to his feet. Both of his hands clung to the railing in a death grip as he reached the bottom, breathing heavily as he brought one up to scratch the back of his head. Seeing that Cyril had completed his objective of obtaining eggs, he laughed. "Woo! Mission accomplished! Back to home base for you!" he cheered, throwing his hands up. He was now in his typical attire which consisted of a basic pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. He wasn't one who could afford to buy flashy clothing and such, so he stuck to the basics. "But we've got one more side quest to do before we continue the main one, friend!"
Miss Ottavio rose a hand to her face and shook her head as Daisuke continued. "Off to the festival!" And with that, the Japanese boy brushed past Cyril with a hand forward as he surged through the streets.
"Like I said, he hasn't had real parents in his life at all..." Miss Ottavio cringed.
"A lot of people, you say?" Vector repeated in a question, tilting his head in false curiosity. Perfect, he thought. Time to start the show, then.
Vector coughed a few times before patting Fionn on the shoulder, smiling as he bowed respectfully. "Thank you for your guidance, young sport," he rose from his gesture, tipping his fedora in accordance. He began to walk away and a corner of his lips rose in a smug grin, raising his hand to wave as his back turned to Fionn and he walked in the opposite direction. "I will someday return to remit your kindness."
MOMENTS LATER
So, Fionn Breckenridge was correct.
Vector stood still in the middle of the roaring crowd full of festivity, already annoyed by how loud everything was. He looked around before settling on an alleyway near the central marketplace, digging into the inside pocket of his suit and revealing a box. His ring emitted a strong charge of electrical current as he pressed it into the opening in the box, causing it to open. Followed by powerful Lightning Flames, the outline of a rapier materializing within the grip of his right hand followed shortly after.
Raising the sword into the air and over his head, Vector shouted, "Thunder, set!" Despite it still being a nice and sunny, summer day, a large arc of lightning bolted from the sky and struck the tip of the rapier, coating his entire body in stronger Lightning Flames as the blade acted like a lightning rod. He effortlessly channeled the current from the tip and redirected it down the alley, striking one of the unoccupied stalls and setting it aflame.
"Hmm," Vector grumbled as he channeled another bolt of lightning to a second stall, also setting it aflame. Soon enough, the fire itself continued to grow and grow, almost as if the entire marketplace was completely suffocated in smoke while the townspeople fled. The rapier returned to his box as the Lightning Flames dissipated, and Vector slipped out of the alley.
Daisuke hadn't even noticed that there was a fire going on in the festival.
He had been too preoccupied attempting to throw miniature hoops around a bowling pin to win a goldfish, and he had thought of the rising temperature and sweat on his forehead as a sign of extreme focus. Must.. win... goldfish... he thought as he proceeded to throw the third hoop, cut abruptly as the tent he was in came crashing down in flames.
"What-" Daisuke cried as he felt the flames singe the clothing around his shoulder, completely in a panic. He ran through the dismantled tent and, still unknown to the layout of Trespiano, lost himself in the maze-like marketplace that was on fire. He was quick to remember the one important lesson that America had taught him from Smokey the Bear. "STOP... DROP... AND ROLL...!"
"GUPYAA!" Daisuke shouted as he came tumbling down the stairs, barely keeping to his feet. Both of his hands clung to the railing in a death grip as he reached the bottom, breathing heavily as he brought one up to scratch the back of his head. Seeing that Cyril had completed his objective of obtaining eggs, he laughed. "Woo! Mission accomplished! Back to home base for you!" he cheered, throwing his hands up. He was now in his typical attire which consisted of a basic pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. He wasn't one who could afford to buy flashy clothing and such, so he stuck to the basics. "But we've got one more side quest to do before we continue the main one, friend!"
Miss Ottavio rose a hand to her face and shook her head as Daisuke continued. "Off to the festival!" And with that, the Japanese boy brushed past Cyril with a hand forward as he surged through the streets.
"Like I said, he hasn't had real parents in his life at all..." Miss Ottavio cringed.
"A lot of people, you say?" Vector repeated in a question, tilting his head in false curiosity. Perfect, he thought. Time to start the show, then.
Vector coughed a few times before patting Fionn on the shoulder, smiling as he bowed respectfully. "Thank you for your guidance, young sport," he rose from his gesture, tipping his fedora in accordance. He began to walk away and a corner of his lips rose in a smug grin, raising his hand to wave as his back turned to Fionn and he walked in the opposite direction. "I will someday return to remit your kindness."
So, Fionn Breckenridge was correct.
Vector stood still in the middle of the roaring crowd full of festivity, already annoyed by how loud everything was. He looked around before settling on an alleyway near the central marketplace, digging into the inside pocket of his suit and revealing a box. His ring emitted a strong charge of electrical current as he pressed it into the opening in the box, causing it to open. Followed by powerful Lightning Flames, the outline of a rapier materializing within the grip of his right hand followed shortly after.
Raising the sword into the air and over his head, Vector shouted, "Thunder, set!" Despite it still being a nice and sunny, summer day, a large arc of lightning bolted from the sky and struck the tip of the rapier, coating his entire body in stronger Lightning Flames as the blade acted like a lightning rod. He effortlessly channeled the current from the tip and redirected it down the alley, striking one of the unoccupied stalls and setting it aflame.
"Hmm," Vector grumbled as he channeled another bolt of lightning to a second stall, also setting it aflame. Soon enough, the fire itself continued to grow and grow, almost as if the entire marketplace was completely suffocated in smoke while the townspeople fled. The rapier returned to his box as the Lightning Flames dissipated, and Vector slipped out of the alley.
Daisuke hadn't even noticed that there was a fire going on in the festival.
He had been too preoccupied attempting to throw miniature hoops around a bowling pin to win a goldfish, and he had thought of the rising temperature and sweat on his forehead as a sign of extreme focus. Must.. win... goldfish... he thought as he proceeded to throw the third hoop, cut abruptly as the tent he was in came crashing down in flames.
"What-" Daisuke cried as he felt the flames singe the clothing around his shoulder, completely in a panic. He ran through the dismantled tent and, still unknown to the layout of Trespiano, lost himself in the maze-like marketplace that was on fire. He was quick to remember the one important lesson that America had taught him from Smokey the Bear. "STOP... DROP... AND ROLL...!"
I was busy playing video games being useful somewhere else.
i'll start working on it now or something, yo
i'll start working on it now or something, yo
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