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Post by [s y r u s] on Apr 22, 2007 11:02:51 GMT -5
With a quick movement of her thumb, the tiny device instantly changed it's melodious call from Avenged Sevenfold to Autumn to Ashes, the young woman's lips silently echoing the words that poured into her ears. They eventually ceased to move as a straw was place between them. Happily drinking in her ice-cold triple-berry slushie, with extra sour apple flavoring, Syrus smiled up at her waitress a bit.
"Thanks Janine." She purred after she'd swallowed. Janine nodded and walked away. She was one of Syrus' friends-because-they-owe-her-for-something. In this particular case, Syrus had taught Janine's boyfriend a thing or two about respecting women. Instead of Janine walking to work with bruises and a bloody nose, Eric had gone to work with his arm in a cast and a broken eye socket.
She swiveled in her counter-seat a little bit as she happily sucked on her drink, pulling out the headphones to her iPod and stuffing the nano into the pocket of her baggy boy's jeans, ripped in several random places. Being careful not to drip any of her treat onto her casual black tee, carelessly splattered with silver and white paint in a fashionable design. The whole outfit was brand new.
It was Saturday, so Syrus had gone off-campus to do a little shopping, and a stop at Jim's was starting to be her favorite part of the whole endeavor. Glancing around, Syrus saw a few other people from Evans, but none of them really close to her. Jim's was a place for more preppy, social people. The ones who float through class because of little seductive glances at the professor.
With a sigh she twisted around again so she was facing the counter again, dropping a five on it so that she could enjoy her drink without interruptions. Swinging her van-covered feet back and forth, she casually reached over and itched a little at the new flower she'd added to the clearly visable mural on her arm just yesterday.
Just another boring day.
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Alexander
New Member
Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom.
Posts: 9
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Post by Alexander on Apr 22, 2007 19:18:09 GMT -5
Saturday. Alexander knew what that meant. Three hour rifle sectional. The section leader was some chick who decided that because she could wax her eyebrows down to nearly nothing, pile on three pounds of make-up everyday, and get away with wearing short-shorts and no underwear meant that she thought she could skim through practice today with a 'screw all of you, I'm on my period and so not in the mood for this' attitude and make the entire rest of the squad suffer.
Alexander made it his job to set her straight. They had screamed at each other for at least a good ten minutes, ending with her running to her car to go complain to her half-wit boyfriend and Alexander running the practice.
It couldn't have gone better. It was like the entire thing was a giant needle injecting happiness into his veins. The squad got more done with him anyway. Mostly because everyone was too afraid to not do anything he said. It amused him at how he could get away with so much. He pulled the same crap during school hours. He'd be out of this school by now if his GPA wasn't so freakishly high. Same with his squad. Alexander was by far the best member of the rifle line, and to lose him would take away what little pizzazz the colorguard had left. The only way he could act the way he did was to be the best.
Which was why he was strolling into the poor excuse for a cafe in his athletic pants and long sleeved t-shirt probably stinking to high heaven. It had been a good day. Everyone had worked hard, and he tried to reward them by not giving them much grief. He was such a generous guy. I mean, really. Alexander carried himself into the place, one hand swinging lazily at his side, the other cradling his only equipment he would ever need to be happy. The rifle that clicked at the strap beat against the side was white as snow and thirty nine inches in length. It turned a few heads as he entered, let me tell you. Alexander had once almost gotten shot at school because some greasy-haired security guard thought he had brought an actual gun to school. Proud day for wishy-washy idiots with a uniform patrolling a university everywhere. Congratulations.
Alexander closed in on the counter and made a quick scan of the staff behind the counter. He looked to his right, and then to his left. He recognized a few faces, none of whom he particularly liked, and he was not greeted with warm stares either. He sat down at the counter, not wanting to submerge himself in the medium crowd that currently was concentrated in the middle of the place. He was mostly by himself, with a girl to his right a few seats away. She looked vaguely familiar, but he didn't know or care to know her name. He looked her up and down. He set his rifle at his feet and gingerly set it up against the paneling of the counter in front of him.
He turned around in his seat like a child would, thoroughly enjoying the spinning chair. After a few minutes, he grew impatient and wanted his damn drink. Too tired to really make a scene, he looked around, hoping for a waitress to magically appear out of nowhere, but alas no fairy princess popped out of nowhere. Testosterone kicking in, he voiced his complaints, not caring if anyone heard him.
"Jesus Christ, what do I have to do to get some service here?" He looked around again. he had never been to this place before, he didn't know what exactly you were supposed to do. But, instead of being a kind gentleman and figuring it out for himself, he found it more fun to just sit back and complain. "I could have shot everyone in this joint with my big scary wooden gun by now, this is ridiculous."
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Post by [s y r u s] on Apr 22, 2007 19:33:42 GMT -5
As the male entered, Syrus glanced over to examine him quickly. She knew him. He was one of the most, in her opinion, annoying and bratty kids in the school. Out of the boys anyway. His breed was far disproportion gender-wise. She carelessly heard his squeaking swivel chair and wondered just long it would take him to break it and go crashing to the floor. Unfortunately, no such event took place, and she was disappointed to say that her blissful afternoon was horrendously interrupted when the boy began spouting off idiotic remarks suitable for a five-year old.
After his last verbal attack, she rolled her eyes and looked over at the staff door, where Janine was just coming out to wash the counter, having not heard the young man's cries for attention. "Hey, Janine." She looked up. "Get the baby a drink so he'll shut his damn mouth already." She voiced, never looking up from the scratch she'd found on her iPod after pulling it out again. Janine hurried over to the disgruntled man and questioned him. "What can I get you?" She asked her her chime-like, flirtatious voice of which most girls used when in the presence of a testosterone-carrying meat sack.
Syrus shook her drink after repairing the dis-figuration, only to find that it was nearly gone and she'd once more have to go out into the cool, autumn drenched streets to finish her shopping day, then head back to campus. Maybe a bit of Archery practice was in order, just to brighten up her weekend a bit. How long had it been, maybe half a week since she last hit a bullseye? She definitely needed to step up her game a bit.
She took another look at the boy next to her, from the corner of her eye of course. His name was... Alexander, right? Yeah, that was it. He was the one with the really stupid white rifle that couldn't keep his mouth shut about a lot of things people didn't usually talk about. Or maybe that was Ryan? She'd lost track, there seemed to be a surplus of talkative boys at the college, she really couldn't keep up with them all.
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Alexander
New Member
Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom.
Posts: 9
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Post by Alexander on Apr 22, 2007 20:16:07 GMT -5
He heard some soft muttering to his right, but before he could turn around a retort, and waitress had situated herself right in his face. The sudden company was a tad depressing, and almost made him wish he had kept his mouth shut. But, then again, not really.
Ah. Waitresses. If those things don't make you depressed, nothing would. What child grew up wanting to wait on other people just because they were too lazy to stay home and make something for themselves. 'No, Daddy, there are too many Doctors, Lawyers, and stuff like that. I need to fulfill my need for attention and different-ness, by being...the publics bitch!'
Hah. Did Alexander really feel sorry for her? Of course not, no one is that crazy.
"Anyway, okay, um..." He looked around for some kind of menu, and found one a few inches away from his left hand, and in a flash he was flipping through it. He didn't like the gritty feeling of the plastic pages, it felt like he was shaking hands with twenty dozen homeless people, all of them sneezing into their hands before greeting him. He looked up at the waitress and pointed to the first item on the menu that wasn't a clever pun or a synonym for some kind of sexual activity and then shooed her away.
After he had ordered, he watched the waitress playfully. He was so glad he had gotten used to the taste of a loogie in his drink, compliments of whatever waitress or waiter that had been serving him that day. If he hadn't, he might have been in trouble. Oh, the sacrifices he had made.
He turned back to the girl who had actually pointed the waitress in his direction. Eh, he had seen her around campus a few times. He remembered her because this chick reminded him of the kind of girl who would hang on to dear life as she rode on the back of a Harley cross country. Her arms were covered in designs, and just the thought of them made him cringe. Not only from the thought of having some guy who dropped out of high school and was probably named Billy-Joe-Green plunge a needle into your skin and then swirl it around while you scream.
But, then again. It's the teenage scene. I want to be different. I want to stand out. Please. That just further showed off your need to be seen by the public eye. So sad.
"So," he turned to her, and placed his elbow on the counter and his face in his hand, eyes dancing behind their purple shields, "I'm a baby, huh?"
So very, very sad.
{XD 'testosterone-carrying meat sack' made me lol. XD}
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Post by [Tristan Greenwood] on Apr 24, 2007 3:42:51 GMT -5
Tristan was a magpie of sorts. The boy liked - no, loved - shiny things. He smiled at the small silver ball in his hand, throwing it and catching it. The rhythm, the simplicity, pleased him. He also saw no issue with taking them if the owner was stupid enough to leave it lying about. His father had hoped that with turning 20, he would grow up. No longer a teenager - real life had to start now, he'd told him. Tristan had watched as Jack had fluttered from his shoulder to his fathers' and began preening his hair. But what was real life? It was almost like talking to Tristan about real life was a joke; albeit a rather cruel one. Talking to a schizophrenic about what was real. Hah. If Tristan hadn't been told otherwise - there was no red parrot that followed him around, that he could feel, see, hear, touch - he'd believe Jack was real. And Tobias, who's words came quickly and smoothly in his ear, told him just how to go about doing something Tobias wanted... You mean there was no tall, brown haired boy by his shoulder? Or the redhead, what about her? Just illusions, they said.
The psycho kid. News spread fast in a small college. But the boy liked the coffee they served at Jim's, and he liked the autumn weather; the gentle nip it brought and the opportunity to wear more clothes. Speaking of, the boy had decided to wear his a thin red ribbon around his head and his favourite sequined hoodie - which also brought stares as he pushed open the door - but not for the same reasons as Alex recieved for his gun. He ignored these glances, and the double takes as he held the door open for a second longer - Tobias was following behind.
He glanced around as he tucked the ball into his pocket, noticing a few people he recognized, but shrugged. He came here for the coffee, not for them. Even though somehow, he seemed to draw attention to himself anyway. He cast a shy smile towards Janine - because really, Tristan was a nice boy. Just had a few screws loose, that's all. He was content to wait, and tilted his head towards Tobias, "Look," Tristan heard him murmur, "they call -you- the one with problems. Down there, see?" he watched Tobias flick an agile wrist in the direction of Alex and Syrus, "One who gets needles jabbed into her regularly for art, and another who carries around a white wooden rifle and God, he sweats..." Tristan snorted quietly. Tobias was such a fucking elitist, he couldn't believe how bad he was sometimes. The boy opened his mouth to reply, a grin on his face, before he stopped. Even though everyone sweats and he himself had a tattoo on his lower back, he had to stop. Madness generally wasn't approved of in small towns.
The dark eyes found there way back to the waitress and away from the boy at his side, muttering quiet curses. It was best to ignore them in public places.
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Post by [rhett .xx.] on Apr 24, 2007 10:45:19 GMT -5
What was the word for such a day? Boring was a easy one yet didn't amuse such a chaotic brain. Stereotyped? Possibly. He continued such a venture into the English language as he executed an unfamiliar path. A metacarpus quickly replaced the emptiness within the sink hole of denim fabric to reluctantly find his iPod missing. He always kept it in his pocket never accumulating else where. Today happened to be one of those days. His music was in simple words his 'life.' Almost caroming into an individual he quickly snapped out of wandering thoughts into a intent study of his surroundings. " Geminii's interurban version. " Rhett muttered to himself. Attention quickly fluttered away from criticism to a small cafe labeled Jim's. On cue the abhorrent sorry excuse of stomach led him to belief he was hungry. He had not been hungry a mere minute ago. Though he had not ate all today, and food sounded good. His stomach, and mind had once again successfully side swiped him into distraction from his priorities.
Socialization. That is what he really craved. Not some greased up 'American style' burger. He merely wanted someone to hate, someone to 'befriend'. Before regaining control he had opened the door. Now he had to walk in.
He looked down to the raggedy pair of converse in search for a second of amusement. This failed. Rhett made his way to the booth and took a seat exactly three seats away from everyone. He didn't make such a craving for socialization arresting. He waited with patience for someone to stir up some drama, or maybe even recognize him. He didn't wish highly on someone recognizing him, and the chances were slim being in another country. All waiters seemed to have their hands full so he didn't even bother at the moment. A glance was stolen from some 'jar-head', and a girl. Immediately Rhett had faint feelings of irretation from the character therefore labeled him on the spot. The female had many tattoos. Artist? Rhett guessed. Another glance theived he noticed the girl had a MP3 player in hand. This reminded him of his stupidity once more for leaving his. Over to the side he managed to realize a boy had sat, and seemed to be accompanied by someone -- though there was no one there. Veiwing the uniformed male once more he noticed his animalistic views on the waiter. He began to speak to the neighboring customer of Jim's. Rhett muttered a mimick of the man in Swedish -- though only for his own entertainment. " jag. jag. jag. jag. "
[.xx. word count; 432]
{{ ooc; Sorry was bored, had to join. Especially after reading two posts of Alexander's persona and the apposing's -- Syrus. }}
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Post by [s y r u s] on Apr 24, 2007 15:00:38 GMT -5
{xD I thought it was funny too... and its no problem, the more the merrier. =D}
"I believe those were my words. Must you be so instupid as to repeat them?" She hissed, rubbing her temples in effort to still the nasty brain-freeze rampaging through her skull. It felt like someone had shot her and instead of death, she was met only with a bullet rattling around within her mind.
Ha, she'd finally found a use for that silly little word. Instupid; Instantly stupid, particularly in feigning inability or lack of knowledge to avoid doing or saying something. She'd looked that up in the dictionary a few days ago. Why is it that mental things like that she could remember, but when it came to the date when the US had it's first major revolution, the simplest of questions, she faltered? She took a small glance over to the boy who just entered. She knew him too, the schitz of the school. Tristan, she remembered it to be. He seemed to hold the door a tad bit longer than a normal person would have before continuing his journey to sit a few chairs down from them.
When another male entered, she tried to resist, but found herself risking a glance over her shoulder at him as well. He... she wasn't sure about him. She knew him by face, but that was it. She'd admit, he looked like the sort of guy she could relate to. At least a bit.
Syrus rolled her shoulders to ease the tense-ness away from her upper-back, which had originated in her attempt to rid herself of the pounding headache she'd received from much to eagerly attempting to finish her drink. She felt a sneeze coming on and, thinking fast, stretched her long body over the counter-top and across the small aisle after that to the far-side, where a rack of napkins had been oh-so-smartly placed. It was probably over there to be refilled, she'd later say, but at the moment she was to disgruntled that the closest other dispenser had been on the other side of Alex, territory she had absolutely no desire to cross through.
Retrieving it and plopping back down in her chair, she put the napkin to her nose and sneezed so hard her whole body shook. It wasn't a normal sneeze either- it was way too high-pitched. She sounded like some little preppy cheerleader who would just die if she had a voice lower than your basic soprano singer.
Well, that was certainly... embarrassing. She heard a few mumbled 'bless yous' from the few closer to her.
"See, I'm allergic to you. How about you get whatever it is you got, to go?" She asked, narrowing her eyes at the rather annoying figure next to her. She didn't know why she was suddenly so irritable. The day had been going so perfectly before this. Maybe it was just the stress of going back to school or something... she didn't know. Whatever it was, she didn't like it.
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Post by [rhett .xx.] on Apr 24, 2007 18:50:42 GMT -5
{{ ooc; o.O Just got ice down the front of my pants. You have no idea how uncomfortable that is. I'm waiting for Alexander, and Tristan too post. }}
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Post by [s y r u s] on Apr 24, 2007 18:56:54 GMT -5
ooc|| xD Brilliant. And thats a good idea. I wish they would get on. Makes me sad. D=
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Post by [rhett .xx.] on Apr 24, 2007 19:02:24 GMT -5
{{ ooc; Ch'yeah. Figured would be only fair to let the others respond. I am spamming the post though. O.o Like Rhettness though? }}
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Post by [Tristan Greenwood] on Apr 24, 2007 19:22:30 GMT -5
The brown eyes widened slightly, scanning around the area. Tristan was aware of eyes on him - a twitch of paranoia flicked through his body and mind. The boy tried to ignore the gentle touch of Tobias' fingers in his hair, tried avoiding looking at him as his face came closer and closer to his own. He hated the taller boy most of the time. No good ever came from him being around. Goddamnit, he knew what he did to him. It was all on purpose - at least Sahara was quiet and didn't try and get his attention in public. Tristan wished she'd hang around with him more, just because he liked her company. Tobias' lips were hovering just by his ear; his hand took on a firmer hold of his head. Tristan felt he was messing up his hair, and instinctively patted it down, his fingers brushing against what he was sure was the pale skin of Tobias hand. The taller boy turned his head toward Syrus, and whispered in his ear. Out of the corner of his eye, Tristan could see a cruel smirk spreading across Tobias' face. "See her? Do you know what she thinks of you?" A quiet sblack person floated into his ear, and he bit his lip softly. What did she think of him? Of course, in reality Syrus could have been thinking nothing - but paranoia always got the best of this weak-minded boy. "And him?" Tobias twisted Tristan's head to look at Rhett. Another one of those sblack persons - crueller, this time - punctured the air in Tristan's head. "If only you knew, Tristan, my love. If only you knew..." "This isn't real..." Tristan whispered to himself, pressing his fingers into his forehead. He tried telling himself that very fact so often; but how could you block out your own reality? To him it wasn't in his mind - it a was almost unfair to tell him such a thing. Groping in his pocket, his hand fell upon a small vial of tablets. They weakened the visions, but the voices wouldn't go, and the side effects... The increased paranoia, the twitching, the violent outbursts got worse... Was it worth taking them? Sometimes, for social interaction, it was. But when he was alone, well... He liked Tobias and Sahara's company, and Jack made him happy. Fishing out one of the capsules, he waved for Janine. "Uh, excuse me... Could I perhaps get a coffee? Long black would be lovely..." Tobias lept from a chair - Tristan watched as he fell through a passing person. He smirked slightly - sometimes revenge was sweet. Tobias liked to think of himself as real - perhaps more real than Tristan himself. Because Tobias wasn't the mad one, was he? But falling through people didn't help his case, especially when they showed no signs of feeling it. "Tristan. There's no way you're taking those." He glared at the pill between his fingers; Tristan's eyes were still on Janine. Giving Tobias the attention he wanted never helped. Still, another whisper slipped from the soft lips in the boyish face. "Just watch me."
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Alexander
New Member
Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom.
Posts: 9
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Post by Alexander on Apr 24, 2007 22:05:17 GMT -5
{What the heck. Six minutes before bed.}
"Oh, there's a twenty-five cent word. Sorry, dear, fresh out of gold stars," he muttered darkly, looking her up and down once more, gracefully accepting the drink that had been put in front of him by a different waitress. He tossed her insults over his shoulder and wrapped his long hands around his drink and loved the cool feel of the chilled glass. He took a sip. Mm. Fruity.
Eh, it was getting a bit crowded in here. Two new faces had entered, one of them wearing a sequin something that had suddenly caught some light and shone some ridiculously bright rays right into his eyes. Thankfully, the boy moved out of the light and took a seat, not that that could stop the shear abrupt upset in the sea of people that the boy caused. He looked... nervous, to put it simply. Oh well, none of Alexander's business.
Then, another entered. Jesus, what was this? The crowd was starting to become a pitfall of mixed pop culture and toxic waste of life. And, to top it all off, the most obnoxious noise erupted from tattoo chick's mouth, a high pitched squeaking noise that he could only assume was caused by her sneeze. Oh God.
"Heh," he snickered at her comment and took another sip of his drink. "Allergic? That can't be possible. Can't have too much of a good thing, doll." He swiveled around in his chair once more, and then stopped so that his front was facing the small crowd of people in the cafe. He was slightly tempted to take her up on her offer and pay the bill and be on his way. But, then again, Alexander didn't have anything else to do today, so he might as well stay and hang out for a while.
{Crap, crap, crap. But hey, what are ya gonna do. :/}
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