Don't Be Afraid {U/C} {Non-KH Related. c:}

Don't Be Afraid {Open + Accepting!} {Non-KH Related. c:}

Take a chance, take a breath... never be afraid.​

Honestly, you would have thought we would know better.
Countless magazine articles, warnings from scientists, experts, everything imaginable; we still didn't listen. We've destroyed our Earth, and the battered remains are not happy.
Floods, volcanoes, earthquakes, tornadoes-all ravage our world. Isolated encampments, surrounded by sky-high concrete levies are a temporary fortress until scientists can discover exactly how to recover.
They never will, of course. Humanity, like an unruly brat, is always sorry after it misbehaved.

During a particularly horrible storm in Lousiana, where the characters live, a levy displays a hairline fracture, unseen by all. That fracture slowly grows, unbeknownst to the populace, and triggers an alarm only after the crack has grown to devastating proportions. Ten teenagers are swept up in the oncoming flood. Those that survived the flood were airlifted away to a different encampment, though among the bloated bodies in the water, the teenagers were never found, and presumed dead.​

Wrong.​

In a sense, of course. Who exactly knows where they are? Greeted by a rotting skull impaled upon a crude spear, perhaps the teenagers are in a twisted Wonderland, or a hell, surrounded by creatures that both entice and disgust, boggle the mind. Perhaps they're in a dream; either way, they're in trouble.

The adolescents come to in a dark valley, black rock surrounding them on all sides but one. Confused, befuddled, and rather damp, the teenagers are shoved into a mission to save the world that they came from, turn back time. Five of the teenagers, ordained to become the weapons of the other five, each wield an element. The weapons were humans in the human world; they have adopted a weapon form in this world. They can shift between human and weapon form at any time. Clumsy and awkward, the pairs must learn to work together, harmonise as fire and ice in order to overcome the terror that stands in their way.

They most certainly can't stay where they are. The group feels already the pangs of hunger, thirst not far behind. You feel pain in this world, it's only logical that you can die in it, too. Perhaps that's the only piece of logic in the place, besides gravity. Wait, that's messed up in some places, too. Whoops.
Good luck, you're going to need it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

Each weapon must have a master; each master must have a weapon. Together they stand, divided they fall.
The scythe, the musket, the axe, the broadsword and the rapier; each destructive, each abstractly beautiful.
The elements must, likewise, be in coordination for surviving.
Fire, water, air, earth. The four elements, the basics of what all else comes from; light and dark, sound and illusion, life and chaos; these ethreal elements govern the universe in perfect synchrosity with the elements; as such, they must be in harmony to allow the survival of our little characters.​

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

I am getting ahead of myself, however.
There are rules to this Wonderland, and you must abide by them.
1) No Godmodding.
2) No two of the same element. There are ten for a reason; any two may be paired. (Fire and light, for an example)
3) I'd like romance, but it's not mandatory. Don't force yourself on someone.
4) PG-16 with romance, PG-18 with other things. I like detail~
5) Message me if you want the profile skeleton.
6) If you are not paired with anyone, tell me your preferred element and weapon of your partner, if applicable.
7) At least two paragraphs per post. Sometimes, it gets droll and dialogue, and then it's okay. But try and at least do eight sentances.
8) No insta-skill! You all are going to be sword-swinging idiots when you begin; improvements will happen over a period of time.
9) Collaborate with your partner to find interesting and unique skills.
10) You may have a rudimentary understanding of your element, but you cannot use it for battle until a certain point in the story. Once again, this ties to rule eight.
11) Have fun! <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

People without a partner:
Scott Grey: Seeking, preferably, a broadsword, with the element of dark.
People partnered already:
Sam (sound) + Saya ( Dark scythe)
Parker (fire) + Gwen (illusion rapier)
Master slots taken: 3/5
Weapon slots taken: 2/5
Weapons taken: Rapier, scythe
Elements taken: Sound, fire, illusion, light, dark
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Profiles:
http://www.kh-vids.net/showthread.php?105336-Don-t-be-afraid.-OOC-Profiles&p=3274474#post3274474


WE ARE STARTING,
though we cannot have the flood happen till we have six or more people~.​

 

♥ S a y a ~ R i v e r s ♥
​

_______________________________

The smell of musty books, peppermint air freshener, and candle smoke wafted amongst the rows and shelves of the little shop. The atmosphere of the room was quiet and sincere. A faint melody of a classical piece played in the background, creating a quiet setting for costumers. If there were to be any today.

Only a single soul was within this solace, and she was soaking up the moment of having the shop all to herself. I do need a silent sanctuary every now and again in this busy, bothersome world.

There was a couch, set up in the corner of the shop and tucked away in the shadows. Dark lavender curtains draped around the couch, blocking out the searing morning sunlight. Although it was nearly gray outside due to some clouds. An elegant lamp was placed right by the couch, dimly lit for the eyes but just right so one wouldn't strain what they use to see with. Saya was curled up on the corner of the couch, her legs resting on the sofa as she sat on her side. Her brilliant eyes moved as she consumed the book at her finger tips, early reading it. She would take advantage of her alone time, and this was one of the ways she chose to spend it.

The lone girl's keen eyes suddenly froze, no longer reading any more passages within the book. Then her eyes droop with a sense of boredom, and she sighed. "Another cliff hanger..." The book was shut with disappointment, and Saya gently set it aside. "Oh well, the author must know what they're doing." Her legs lazily swiveled around until Saya was sitting up right, her arms stretching above her head to relieve some tension within her shoulders. Done with her ten second stretch, Saya let her arms flop by her side as she scanned the shop in front of her. "Another slow day. Another day where humans are consumed in their own lives through Facebook and texting." Saya's hands clasped together on her lap as she continued to muse. "Another day where monsters await in a virtual world, and posts are to be made in forums." Her eyes fell on the book next to her, and for a brief moment, sadness played across them. "Another day where these books will sit and rot, waiting for a rare hero to come and snatch them away from their miserable lives." Saya laid her head back against the couch as she closed her eyes, churning what she just said in her mind. A smile appeared on her lips as she chuckled. "Silly Saya, you're thinking too deeply again."

________________________________________________​

"I'm not afraid,
I'm not ashamed,
I'm not to blame"​

Welcome to the Masquerade​

"I'm not ashamed,
I'm not afraid,
I'm not okay"​

 

"Good for nothing sun," the freshman college student grumbled as he walked out of his last class. He dropped the book bag he was carrying as the sun blasted him in the face. Almost as if acting by its own accord, his right hand went up immediately to shield his face. Feeling the crowd move past him, and a few bump into him, the student decided it was time to move. After his eyes adjusted to the sun, he moved his hand upwards, sweeping it through his messy, black hair. "Another damn day in this dying, desolate, doomed world. What's the point?" Parker Murdock asked himself as reached into his pocket.

At first glance, Parker was rather attractive. He wasn't tall, but he was taller than average, giving him a lean appearance. He had unkempt black hair that reached past his eyes, the kind of unkempt that made shallow girls swoon at first sight. He was heterochromic, his eyes were a dark, yet clear brown with bright green around the edges. He was well dressed in a white business shirt with a brown vest over it. His pants and tie matched the vest and his sleeves were folded on the end. However, upon closer inspection, one could see the signs of his past and current habits: he was slightly skinnier than he should be, his clothes hanging a bit from his body. His eyes had dark circles under them and were bloodshot. He had faint wrinkles on his face. His clothes were much more wrinkled than his face. In fact, those were the signs of the night before, spent studying and snorting certain substances. Whatever it takes to stay on top, right?

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and opened it. He groaned at the sight of a single white stick staring back at him. Making a mental note to buy a new pack later, he popped his last cigarette into the space between his lips. He reached for his lighter with one hand, and knelt down to pick up his bag with the other. He let its single strap rest on his shoulder as he walked away from the doors, dropping the empty box into a trash can. He closed his eyes before raising both hands to his mouth. He sucked in, taking in the sweet burn of lit cigarette. He opened his eyes and raised the lighter to them. It still had the same amount of fuel it did a week ago. He noticed he was using less fuel without smoking less and wondered how that worked. He held in his breath for a few more seconds and then exhaled. A thick cloud of smoke poured from his nostrils and as another cloud escape his lips. He could feel the burn, but, to him, it was the greatest feeling ever.
​

 

​

• • • • • 
          “Damn it to bloody hell!”
          
          A second hadn’t even passed before all eyes were locked on the noisy redhead, conversations ceasing and a cell phone accompanied by a single pen clambering to the floor. A series of piercing green glares returned things back to normal, if not for a bit sluggish with tension. Gwen turned her gaze back to the mirror, frowning at the image before her. Scarlet strands of hair were pulled back into a high ponytail, braids undone and leaving her front side bangs cascading down her cheeks in gentle waves. It wasn’t as though the dress didn’t fit her right, or that it wasn’t the right color or height. It was simply the fact that it was a dress. All of this preparation was, bluntly, freaking her out. Crude as it may have been to exclaim such “vulgarity” in the middle of a clothing store, poor Gwen felt it a necessary exclamation. She couldn’t remember the last time she wore a dress, much less a strapless one with lovely floral print.
          
          She always wished looks could kill, or at least fracture a mirror. Maybe then she’d fine some kind of motivation behind the glassy cracks. She turned away from the furniture, flustered and releasing a high shriek-like groan of exasperation as she clicked and clacked her way back into the dressing room, heels scraping against the tile floor and digging into the carpet to follow. She hastily pulled the plastic band out of her hair, locks tumbling down her back and draping over her shoulder lazily and she unzipped and tugged the cloth from her body.
          
          “I don’t have freaking time for this!” She moaned to no one in particular, though she was positive there were people listening in on her ranting. She quickly got changed back into her regular outfit for the day (a pair of black skinny jeans and a blue shirt with the grunge print ‘EX-TAZY’—her favorite band— plastered over the stomach), lifting her legs one by one to remove the heels and striding completely barefoot and frazzled to the nearest check-out stand. After maneuvering right in front an ever-growing line of shoppers and stepping in front of the next customer in line, she curled and snapped her hair band around her wrist like a bracelet and ran her fingers through her hair with a huff.
          
          The customer behind her politely tapped her shoulder as to say something and she just held up her hand and rolled her eyes, making her way over to a cashier and slamming the dress down on the counter. The cashier blinked at you incredulously, tilting her head curiously towards the line of people behind Gwen.
          
          “Um…” Gwen glanced behind her shoulder, ever-piercing eyes narrowing and lips pressing together before she turned her attention back the cashier. “Something up?”
          
          A continuous buzzing on her right thigh made her jump and shudder, a hand instinctively digging through her pocket until grasping the light blue flip phone and using her thumb to flip it open, scowl leaving her lips.
          
          “Lillian. Update, now.” With this, she nodded towards the cashier like nothing was wrong, who reluctantly started to scan and bag her dress.
          
          “He’s there! I told you, I told you, I told you! Now all you have to do is hurry up! …Where are you? ARE YOU STILL AT THE MALL?” A shrill voice shouted from the other side of the phone. Clearly this woman was just as shameless as Gwendolyn.
          
          “Shh, Lily. You’re stressing me out, I’m almost there! Stall him for me!”
          
          “My pleasure, Gwenny.” A flirtatious giggle followed.
          
          “…Oh, shut up.”
          
          With a few more friendly words and a cash exchange, Gwen was out the door and through the mall exit, running barefoot to her car and unlocking it with her free hand, the phone still clasped tightly in place by her jaw and shoulder. She threw the dress into the backseat before climbing there with it and stripping down again as she had in the dressing room. A cry of frustration left her as she struggled to zip the back of the dress up. It would have hugged her curves perfectly…if she had had any for it to hug. Unfortunately for her, her body type was skinny and skinnier. Not that she didn’t like being skinny, but it didn’t leave much room for feminine growth. Maybe that’s why she didn’t find strapless knee-high dresses like this one to be all too worth it.
          
          “But if he likes them…”
          
          “What?”
          
          A soft blush caused her otherwise pale cheeks to glow pink, eyes cast down to the heels she was currently strapping on. “Nothing…”
          
          “Alright, well…I’m going to go stall. Love you, Gwenny.”
          
          “Love you, Lily.”
          
          Once the phone went silent, Gwen tossed it and climbed back into the front seat, her heart pounding and thoughts racing. As she was pulling out of the parking lot and heading to her destination, she was almost positive she was about to have a heart attack. She mentally checked herself for all of the signs while paying mind to all of the road’s rules and stoplights. Her finger tapped nervously against the steering wheel.
          
          I suppose I should tell you exactly what poor Gwen was off to do, if you haven’t figured it out by now. This is how most tragedies (and chick flicks) start off, actually. ‘So, there’s this guy…’ Not something you haven’t heard before, right? Exactly. And no matter how many stories and movies and poems and songs start off with this fact and end in heartbreak, the same fools keep falling for it. Though she’s a clever, independent and determined girl, dear Gwendolyn had fallen for the same cliché. There was a guy. Not just any guy, oh no, Gwen had standards. This guy was hot. Movie start hot. Teen drama hot. Not only was he drop dead gorgeous and much too perfect for her, but he was a gentleman. Edward Cullen gentleman. Yup. Oh Gwen, the poor fool. Hook, line and sinker. You would think someone like her would know better.
          
          Well you’re wrong. Here she was, dressed up and dazzling for this hot teen hunk whose name is surprisingly not Brad or Jake, but rather Alejandro. She was hoping to catch him at the park taking his afternoon jog, like usual, and maybe convince him to grab lunch with her; all according to her perfect plan. They were classmates. Not close classmates even, just classmates.
          As painful as this may be for those who know better, pay careful attention because here comes the tragedy. As soon as Gwen had parked and hit redial seven or eight times on her cell phone to reach her dear friend Lillian, she realized something was wrong. First, Lily-darling hadn’t answered. She always answered. The second thing that was wrong didn’t even matter at this point, for this was tragic enough. Was she dead?
          
          With a deep breath Gwen cut the engine, wiped her eyes and made sure those blasted heels were fastened tight and properly. She slipped out of the car, smoothing the dress down in the back and slamming the door shut. It was an average enough looking day at the park. Children ran around so wildly that you wondered where on earth the parents were, bums were littered across the green meadows like giant smelly mushrooms, the scent of mountain water mixed and joined with that of the scent of sea salt, and teenagers were placed awkwardly on benches—lips connected in a heated and primal passion, arms locked around each other. Lovely sight, really. Well, actually, only two teenagers were tangled in each other’s arms swapping spit and possibly mononucleosis at the moment. Two oddly familiar teenagers.
          
          Gwen’s head cocked to the side like some kind of broken machinery, heels sinking into the plush green beneath her as her eyes locked onto the scene. Her lips parted, eyebrows pushing together in confusion and breath catching on the growing lump in her throat. There was only one comprehensible word flowing and repeating in her brain, her arms lip at the sides of the stupid dress she wore. So, she spoke it.
          
          “You…You…You b[COLOR="palegreen3"]itch!”
          
          Lillian flinched in Alejandro’s mega-buff, tan, bare arms.
          
          And there you have it. Tragedy.

[/color]

//OOC: *Pants and ices fingers*

​

 

Sam Corinx​

“You’re my guitar hero; you’re my guitar hero…” A young male quietly murmured to himself as he walked down the sidewalk of the town, a black headphone resting in one of his ears and quietly playing Amanda Palmer. The boy had always been possessed with a certain affinity to music, evident through that headphone that was nearly always spewing the musical talents of Emilie Autumn, Amanda Palmer, or some related artist. Sam felt a smile spread across his face as he spied the tall ceiling of a bookstore in the distance, feeling what only could be described as relief flood through his body. What was waiting in that bookstore made living his life of crappy apartment buildings, mediocre paintings and piano pieces and dreadfully annoying education remotely tolerable. Not that the boy was considering suicide, or anything. That was silly.

People around him each had their own song to sing, and they would if they could. The man with a trail of cigarette smoke emanated acrid and dry rock; a woman, crying for some reason reminded Sam of a serenade to some lost love. Sam’s 6’5” frame walked indifferently beside both, offering neither a word of salutation nor one of condolence. The ballads of other people’s broken lives and loves weren’t his problem. Passing by, the lanky male raised one of his muscular arms to brush a lock of reddish black hair out of his black eyes. The things had a strange sense of hidden emotion within them, enough to make one want to befriend the man just for the sole purpose of figuring out the secrets that they held. Not that being Sam Corinx’s friend was an easy task; at the moment, a single individual fit the bill.

The tall male solemnly crossed the hot asphalt road, looking lazily from side to side that his death wasn’t speeding at 67 miles per hour straight at him. The city could be beautiful, perhaps, Sam thought. It was rebuilding itself, albeit slowly, and everything seemed rather calm. Nice, though heavy, black clouds had begun to surround and cover the sunny city. The rain would be a nice reprieve from the masses of sunshine that they’d been barraged with. Rainstorms were common in these parts, though little did everyone know that the levies that kept them safe would soon be breaking. Still, though; that wasn’t even in the minds of the townsfolk as they went about their business. Sam pulled open the door to the bookstore once he had reached it, closing it behind him and adjusting his thin, gray, v-necked t-shirt as he walked in, a rare smile cracking his face to reveal white teeth. Only a few were shown before it turned into a lip smile, the male shedding a light jacket and draping it over the back of a chair lazily, nudging the thing underneath the table with one of his sharp hips. His figure was wiry and lanky, though evidence of hard muscle was everywhere, albeit hidden by his nearly always baggy clothing.

“Saya!” He called, his very bass voice echoing gently through the amazing acoustics of the bookstore. He had, on more than one occasion, heard different people sing within the store, and the curved and arched ceilings always made for interesting and beautiful sounds and echoes. “If have brought something to make your day at least eighty times better. Probably at least a hundred, though that’s probably overestimating my abilities.” He murmured, walking to the seated female. As she was about to get up, as he knew that he would, he gently pushed her back to the couch with a small shake of his head. Sam reached into the brown paper bag that he was holding, fishing about for a moment before he carefully brought out a large cup, placing it down onto the table, the thing’s circular bottom making a small sound as it touched a wooden coaster. Pulling out the stopper, chocolate-scented steam floated gently from the hole. “Hot chocolate!” He announced with happiness, looking to see her reaction. “But that’s not all!” He said dramatically, reaching into the bag with a flourish, slowly pulling out a plastic, zip-lock bag filled with Oreos. “Yes, this is real. You are not in heaven; I brought you hot chocolate and Oreos.” He said, laughing. “Nice, right? And if you don’t want to make yourself diabetic with all the sugar that’s on the table right now, I have three turkey sandwiches in the bag, too.” He added, nudging the three bags towards the seated female before lying back on the sofa, his arms going behind his head and a real smile spreading across his features.

“Been a slow day, I guess? Well, I hope these make it bearable. Too bad people don’t read anymore. It’s kinda depressing. Screw Facebook, got any good recommendations for books to read?” He asked earnestly, reaching into the bag and pulling out a plastic-wrapped turkey sandwich. He unwrapped it slowly, waiting for her response as he slowly peeled off the plastic, occasionally throwing a ripped piece into the trash can next to him. He thought for a moment how strange he was acting; if anyone knew him outside of the bookstore, outside of Saya’s influence, a few words to describe him would probably have been ‘reserved’, ‘quiet’, ‘introverted.’ All were true, to a certain extent, though the friendly female had always had a certain knack for pulling him out of his shell.

Not that they were romantically involved or anything, far from it. Sam reminisced back to his memory, a classical violin song floating through his brain before he looked at the ceiling, thinking for a moment. Yes, perhaps the town wasn’t too bad. Perhaps the rain flooded up to people’s ankles, perhaps hail pounded on jackets and jeans and Sam’s boots, perhaps ice sometimes caused car accidents and people to fall and break their bones. Yet, through all of this, the gently tanned teenager liked the town that he lived in. He was fortunate; others had been carried away in the massive floods or destroyed by global warming; the creators of this place had avoided that. He loved the part of town he was in, specifically the bookstore, and even more specifically, the person that that he was with. He was content in sitting here in the bookstore with Saya, chatting about idiots and books and anime and forums and everything imaginable and unimaginable, and contentment is rare to find.

 

​

• • • • • 
          â€
          
          
          “And in the midst of it all,
          We’re born just to fall..
          You promised me, you promised me.
          Gave you my heart and then the key.â€​
          
          
          This was one of the few songs on EX-TAZY’s album that wasn’t screamo, but by the way Gwen was belting it out, you wouldn’t even recognize the difference. Instead of viciously attacking Lily at the park and violently ripping her from the sexy arms of the infamous Alejandro, Gwendolyn had decided a little lyric belting went a long way. She wasn’t particularly sure where she was going to go now. Her hands were trembling against the steering wheel and her bright emerald eyes kept blurring with tears. The last place she wanted to go was her parent’s house; that was a definite. They would no doubt drive her to committing suicide, especially her sisters. But she didn’t necessarily want to go home either. The small, but nice apartment she had gotten for herself when she moved out didn’t sound appealing at all, being that she lived alone.
          
          It was at this moment that Gwen began to feel something that was rare for her to feel. It was a sensation often described in the media, a term often whispered between intimate friends, and a phenomenon glorified in superhero films. Gwendolyn Pierce was lonely. It was something unfathomable. She realized that she wasn’t particularly good at making friends, even in high school but she had been fine with the few that she did have. She had been fine being surrounded by people, even ones who didn’t really know her. But today it was different. Today she wasn’t fine. She needed someone and the only person she really had was too busy chewing off Alejandro’s tongue.
          
          With this feeling of loneliness came an almost unbearable feeling of shame.
          
          “Since when did I become so pathetic?†She choked out through a whimper, eyes locked on the road and mascara tears sliding down her red, damp cheeks.
          
          
          “I wish you would hold me,
          don’t leave me feeling lonely.â€​
          
          

//OOC:

​

 

♥ S a y a ~ R i v e r s ♥
​

_______________________________

As soon as Sam strolled into the store, it was as though he brought in an intoxicating vibe with him into this deary place. On the days she had this store all to herself, she was in danger of brooding and reminiscing different things in her life. Maybe about what happened in her past (which she's been trying hard to forget about), or maybe just how human she was compared to everyone else. This girl had impossible of dreams of fighting off some human qualities and when found herself submitting to them, it was a strange new experience all over again. Most of them weren't always pleasant. If she was a fairy she would be the kind to pull the rose petals back over her body and shut herself in the bud forever, never to bloom for anyone or to show herself to the world. But every single time Sam stopped by, all of that melted away and all her troubles disappeared. It was as though he was radiating with sunlight and that sunlight was so bright and inviting that Saya didn't have any choice but to open little by little for this one human being. She knew that he had his struggles as well as she had hers; all human beings had issues and problems in their lives. Somehow they fought past the rain clouds and thunderstorms and focused more on the rainbows and how beautiful the lightning was. 'Oh metaphors and symbols, you have to love them.' Saya listened to Sam's voice, and smiled slightly. He never believed her when she told him on several occasions that he had a fantastic singing voice and that always made her frustrated in a way. Although she never actually had the chance to hear him sing, she knew that he was good at it by just hearing his voice. He had the right tone, the right pitch... Oh what a dream come true it would be if he suddenly burst out into song in front of her. Patience was a virtue though, and so she waited thus so patiently. 'Screw patience... it can go die,' she joked with herself. Since she started hanging out with Sam, new vocabulary words were starting to drift into her conversation. That was good though. He was helping her be more like a human than a mindless robot she once was. To think, Saya use to not care so much about herself or the others around her she briefly came in contact with. She was so much more focused on herself before, but all of that changed. Over a few short weeks in her life, she changed. But only one person could understand why this was important. Saya lifted her head to see Sam walking over to her, and she smiled a little more.

Sam understood Saya more than sometimes she understood herself.

When Saya was "invited" to sit back down she sat down causing the sofa to make a piffing sound. She probably just killed the couch by knocking the wind out of it, if it was alive that was. Saya couldn't help but to chuckle at the thought before shushing herself and focused on Sam. She wasn't heavy, she was actually pretty light-weighted. Probably a little too light for her own good. When people looked on Saya, they saw her as a fragile porcelain doll that would break if they even touched her with one finger. Well, she was pale than most and her voice was quiet, but she wasn't completely weak. She had her strengths, people just don't see them because Saya is the kind of book you have to read twice to fully understand. Focusing back on the presence, Saya watched Sam with interest as he pulled out a brown paper bag and held it up for her to see. Then when he produced the contents in the bag and placed them on the table in front of her, Saya finally grinned.

"Ah ha, the magician still has his magic touch," Saya stated in a light tone, raising her eyebrows to emphasize her point. She rested her elbow light on the couch and propped her head on her knuckles so that her fingers were curling inwardly to her palm. Her eyes skimmed over the sandwiches, the cup of hot cocoa, and the Oreos and suddenly she felt a rumbling in her tummy. Saya laughed softly and shook her head. "Oh Sam, you've outdone yourself this time. If I didn't know any better, I would say you're trying your best to make sure I'm fully fed. Maybe gain a little weight?" A smirk played across her lips as she gave Sam a sly look. "I think you're trying to get me fat so I have to waddle around the store all the time like a duck, maybe even a penguin, or even an obsess cat who can barely stand on his stubby legs. You'd get amusement out of that, wouldn't you." Saya let the silence fall in between them for a brief moment, letting her words hang in the air. Feeling a fit of giggles threatening to come out, Saya covered her mouth and stifled it before it could be heard. "I'm kidding, this looks nice. Really. I'm truly flattered. You picked my favorite things in the world. Nothing beats being with a friend than to share hot chocolate and Oreos. You actually read my mind... I was thinking about asking you if you wanted hot chocolate or herbal tea when you stepped in, but you beat me to it this time." Saya was beaming now, fully out of her shell for Sam's sake. To prove herself, Saya grabbed one of the sandwiches and unwrapped it gradually. Seeing that her guest was still standing, the girl set her sandwich on her lap and gestured for Sam to sit in the lounge chair that was set close to the couch. "Have a seat. So, you heard my bitty spat then about technology. Never mind the best books in the world, they're boring company when a real human is here to tell you stories. So tell me Sam, how have you been? How's your life?"

Simple questions, maybe with simple answers. Some times she coaxed paragraphs out of Sam, sometimes she only received one sentence. It was fine with her, but she liked to see how open Sam was that day. It would tell her what kind of mood he was in, so she could carefully choose her topic of choice. It was strange how Sam dealt with her in the first place, she thought. She brought things up in an interesting way, and she always... had to find something odd to say. It was like she was the Mad Hatter half of the time, buzzing with thoughts and ideas. She never could stay on one subject very long. It was her own form of ADD, and curiosity was her addiction. Sometimes she could bridle her mind so that it stayed on one track if it was required of her, but other times her mind raced here and there in many places in many different times. Saya was hungry for friends, hungry for a kind of connection with someone since she wasn't so privileged to choose or have any friends of her own in her childhood. And here was Sam, ready and just as eager to be her friend as well. That's all she wanted in this world. Nothing more, nothing less.
________________________________________________​

"I'm not afraid,
I'm not ashamed,
I'm not to blame"​

Welcome to the Masquerade​

"I'm not ashamed,
I'm not afraid,
I'm not okay"​

 

Another fog escaped from Parker's mouth, drying it as it moved through. He didn't bother removing the cigarette from his lips, letting the cloud envelop and then leave it behind. He reached his left hand to tie, pulling it down in order to loosen it as he turned a corner. Taking another long drag from his cigarette, reducing it to half of its original length, he closed his eyes and grabbed his collar. It only took a single second for him to push the button through its corresponding hole and loosen his shirt's hold on his neck, but he kept walking, his eyelids removing the entire world from his reality. Well, all of it but its noise. Car horns, car screeches, chatter on cell phones, chatter in person, music, bicycle bells, ringing from opening store doors, all of these hit his ears as a single blaring annoyance. Well, the individual noises. Parker loved the way all these noises combined and lost himself in the noise, it was his music. It was only when he could make out the individual noises that he became annoyed. One such noise being the harsh profanity muttered at him when he had bumped into somebody. Paying the crude bystander no mind, nor apologizing for bumping into him, Parker kept on walking with his eyes sealed underneath their lids. He had memorized the way home long ago. He had even memorized how long it took him to walk each street. The most astounding fact is how he memorized the times the streetlights changed. All of this allowed him to walk from his last class to his dorm room without seeing anything, despite bumping into a few people, as long as he was on time, as he was now.

The cigarette soon reached its filter; it tasted differently to Parker with the final hit. He spit it out and it landed a yard away. Failing to step on it, Parker simply kept walking. He was nearing the street now. His right hand reached into his back pocket, feeling for his wallet. It was still there. He felt his eyelid twitch and was glad he would be able to buy more cigarettes later. As he walked, one could hear a jangling in his pocket. It wasn't his keys, the jangling was too soft for that. It was a container of prescribed pills. The pills weren't prescribed to him, mind you, but they would help give him his fix. He would sell them later, saving a few for himself, and then buy something stronger, something to keep him awake during the weekends.

"Almost there," he whispered as he stepped off the curb, reaching the street. He was the only person crossing, but it didn't matter. The light was red, just like it should have been. ...12, 13, 14... He counted his steps, reaching the halfway mark on the crosswalk. Suddenly, he heard the sound of car. He stopped, slightly curious as the light should have been red still. He opened his eyes, revealing them to the world as he cocked his head to the side. "Well, then," The sight of Gwendolyn's car moving towards him, not slowing down for the light, didn't phase him. But he stayed standing there, still as ever, and stared it down with his bone-dry, blood-shot eyes.
​

 

​

• • • • • 
          ”
          
          “I can do better than him anyways, right? I mean, it’s not like the boy was God or anything. Hah, he wasn’t even all that attractive. I mean, me with a Latin guy? And how cliché is the name Alejandro these days anyways? This isn’t a Lady Gaga song, people. I mean, seriously, you know?”
          
          “…Actually, I don’t.”
          
          “And who makes out in the park? That’s so…so…trashy! That’s the word. It’s pure trash. Doesn’t anyone have self respect anymore?”
          
          “I suppose not.”
          
          “SLUT!”
          
          “…I respect your opinion, but I hardly think—.”
          
          “Oh, no, not you. I was thinking about Lillian. That traitor. Why would she do this to me? To ME of all people? I’ve been so good to her…I’ve bought her lattes when she was having a down morning, I’ve hooked her up with friends and the first time I’m interested in a guy she goes and stabs me in the bloody back. A slut, that’s what she is. S-L-U--.”
          
          “Look…This conversation has been lovely and all, but I have to get back to work.”
          
          “—T. …Understood. Um…What’s your name again?”
          
          “Jennifer.”
          
          “Ah, yes. Jennifer. I’ll see you in class on Monday. Um. I was wondering, actually. Would you like to maybe hang out at the mall or something this weekend?”
          
          “No.”
          
          “Yeah, you’re right. You’re probably…busy.”
          
          “…Yeah.”
          
          “Catch you later, Jenny. Aha.”
          
          CLICK.
          
          I believe we can all safely assume that Gwen is an average teenage girl trying to find her place in the world. Not quite perfect, not quite special. Just somewhere in the middle, in that awkward phase that people are expected to be over after eighteen, even though scientifically speaking, they have about another four or five years to go, and some people never make it out. Gwen was average, she was human, and she was just a tad superficial sometimes. In her mind, she kept replaying what she truly wanted to do at the park while Lily-traitor and Ale-jerkface were eating each other’s faces off. (Notice how this making out just keeps getting more and more violent in Gwen’s head.) Not only would there have been some serious violence involved and targeted at the all-but-innocent Lillian, but she would probably have become a registered sex-offender. You can thank Alejandro’s muscles and Gwendolyn’s hormones for that.
          
          Jennifer was the opposite. She was goal-oriented, knew what she wanted to do (and was doing), and was 28 and married with a child on the way. Not to mention how reserved a person she could be in public. She was just a girl in one of Gwen’s college classes. They had exchanged numbers for a project. Needless to say, the day at the mall was a very bad idea. Gwen wasn’t used to this aloneness. She was used to calling up Lily in situations like these and going to get a pedicure. She wasn’t used to heartbreak. Even if it had been her own fault that she had ended up here.
          So caught up in this self-pity and loneliness, Gwen continued to speed on, using the gas pedal as a sort of continuous drum kick to the bass of the next EX-TAZY song blaring. She closed her eyes and tapped on the steering wheel, letting the music flow through her veins, like a drug. Like a poison. She was so caught up in this that she barely noticed the red light in front of her, and it took her a moment to register the fact that she was about to kill someone. When she finally did, however, her foot slammed down on the brake and her forehead bumped into the steering wheel.
          
          “OH, JESUS TAKE THE WHEEL.”
          
          In her mind, she had just spun out of control and hit the man. The man had splattered all over her windshield and her car had flipped over eight or ten times into a gasoline truck that exploded on impact. People were running around on fire screaming bloody murder…In reality, the bumper of the car probably just brushed against the man’s leg, if any contact was made at all.
          
          Her eyes were clenched shut and she could feel herself trembling, adrenaline pumping through her veins.
          
          “I’m dead. I’ve died. It’s over for me. Pasta lava-stah. Or, whatever.”
          
          Upon hearing her voice, it occurred to her that she was, in fact, not dead. (She would have known the phrase if she were in Heaven, duh.)
          
          So, she peeled herself from the wheel, got out of the car trembling and everything and approached the man.
          
          “I am SO sorry! Are you okay? You’re not dead, are you? OH MY GOD. THIS ISN’T HAPPENING. We’re spirits, aren’t we? No one else can see us but each other, and the—where are our corpses? WHY AM I STILL WEARING THIS STUPID DRESS?”
          
          
          

//OOC:

​

 

A woman's terrified yell. A dog's warning bark. A man's loud warning. A child's curious "look!" All of these accompanied the ear-splitting screech as the distance between the car and Parker diminished quicker than he could react. Not that he would have. The distance between them was like a metaphorical representation of his own life force...and it was disappearing before he could usher a breath. You're going to kill me, aren't you? He thought to whatever higher being was in control of the car as it reached him. Or maybe there was no higher being. Maybe the universe itself orchestrated these "coincidences" to build up to this moment, ridding itself of the stain on Earth known as Parker Murdock. There was no life flashing before his eyes, no bright light, no angel of death waiting to greet him. The only thing there was Parker's unwavering eye, accompanied by his whisper, "Kill me."

A gust of wind and several exclaims later, Parker realized the car had stopped. Not just that, but the driver, a girl with no curves whatsoever wearing a very unnecessary dress was yelling at him. He looked down to see the space between his body and the car's bumper: a mere centimeter or so. So that was all that was left of his life force? A centimeter? What the girl was yelling finally registered as he raised his face to look at her. He noticed that she had green eyes, the same shade as the outer ring of his own.

"If anyone would be dead here, it would be me, you idiot," it was a harsh statement, but it was true. "And no, it isn't happening, can't you see?" His tone harshened as he spoke, almost as if he was disappointed that the car didn't make contact with his worthless body. "I'm alive," his eyes narrowed and his face gestured towards the car, "If you were going to kill me, you would have hit me, but you didn't, did you?" His face seemed angry, whether it was at the fact that he didn't die or that he almost did seemed unclear. "Next time, if you're going to run over someone over your own tragedy," he said, noting her teary eyes, "finish the job." He eyed her up and down. "And what the hell are you talking about? It's a beautiful dress," and with that, he turned and resumed walking across the sidewalk.
​

 

Sam Corinx​

"I'm a magician now? No one told me. Ah, it's all good. I'm magical, anyway~." He said with a little laugh, raising an eyebrow as he heard some kind of commotion outside the window. Some kind of car squealing. Sam didn't pay any attention to it; it was probably some idiot driving badly. What else was new? Sam let out a small, musical hum as he heard the classical music in the background, letting out a good-natured grin as he leaned back in the sofa. It really was a good day. He couldn't complain even if he wanted to. Here he was with his great friend, and then something even better started. A light rain began to drizzle down over the city, clouds overtaking the sun and giving everything a grayish blue wash. The heat of the sun immediately began to seep out of the asphalt and out of the air itself, it seemed. It was like God had turned on the air conditioner up there or something. Sam let out a small chuckle at the thought, shrugging and watching as Says took the stuff and made it into a joke. "An obese cat? A penguin? While those are all fun to watch, I'd rather you not be a giant, waddling thing. I just got the as a gift~ But I would get amusement out of you waddling. I'm not going to lie." Sam chuckled happily as she tried not to giggle, tempted to reach over and jab his finger into her ribs to get those giggles to come out. "Kidding. Right. Your favorite things in the world, eh? Oreos? Eh, I guess simple minds are pleased by simple things." He teased right back, smiling.

"Herbal tea? Agh, that sounds like a hippie drink. Not that I mind hippies or anything. They're cool. And yes. Didn't you say I was a magician? That means I can read minds. I predicted that you'd offer me poisoned herbal tea and I brought this hot chocolate to save my own life. That's right." He murmured happily, continuing to eat his sandwich. He lounged back in the chair that she offered him, flopping onto it with a tired groan. He laid on it sideways, his legs draping over the armrest farthest from the couch and nearly touching the ground. He curled up a little in the cushiony material, closing his eyes for just a moment and letting out an elongated sigh. "Hm...Life." He murmured quietly, trying to think about what to say. "I'm...I'm actually doing pretty well, y'know. I'm kinda surprised. It almost feels like things shouldn't be going this well, I shouldn't be happy, but I am. I have a new motto, you know. Get good, get better. I repeat that to myself every day to remind myself of it. I'm using it with my art. I think I'm going to start a webcomic. Maybe just one that has jokes every week, no real recurring plotline. I was inspired by an artist online. The artist of three webcomics, attending college. I thought, 'Hey, Sam. If he can do all of that and actually draw with such quality, you can do your art, which is a quarter of the quality as his, and be able to keep up with one comic, yeah?'" He paused to think for a moment and get some more air. Today was one of those days where he just felt like...talking. He felt like talking to her. No one else would even listen, and here she was, not interrupting him as he ranted on about himself.
"Yeah. So. I've also been doing a lot of writing, trying to get better at that. When I get done I think I may publish it. It's not as good as yours, though. I've been trying to practice more piano, but I'm pretty busy...but I've still been practicing, and that's what counts, right? Get good, get better! Hehheh...Yeah. Been holding up, I guess. Still going to college for education, I'm pretty sure I'm going to pursue high school education. That's about it. I'm so sorry, I really didn't mean to ramble on like an idiot. I probably bored you to death." He murmured apologetically, burying his face into a soft pillow. "So, Saya! Tell me about you!" He retaliated with a happy grin, wanting to hear about what had been going on with her. Sometimes she gave him a sentence response, but he could normally coax more out of her. No one's life could be summarized a single sentence; he always tried to get the real story, the real issues from the girl. He didn't want to be the friend that seemed like he didn't care, because he did.

 

♥ S a y a ~ R i v e r s ♥
​

_______________________________

A smile crossed Saya's lips as she listened to Sam ramble on and on about his life. It got her mind off of her own pathetic world for at least a few moments. Hearing someone tell almost all of their highlights to her made her feel special; made her feel like she was trusted enough with these desires and dreams of this heart. Of course, she had no one else to relate it to besides the books, but she would never tell anything about Sam unless he told her to. If not, she kept her lips sewn shut and carried on with her normal way of living. The sandwich on her lap was forgotten as she lost herself in Sam's ambiguous life. He had so many dreams right in his reach, so many things to hope for, it almost made her jealous. Saya was still indecisive of what she was going to do with her own life. She was only in high school for two years, since she was taught since birth to be a well rounded student. However, she didn't want to pursue college because she wasn't sure what she was going to do with herself once she got there. Her boss told her she could go to college to study violin and piano more, but it was something she liked to do on her free time... Not a full time job.

Hearing Sam finally finishing his talking rampage (although it was enjoyable for Saya), she looked up at him trying to figure out what to say to him. Saya then looked at the sandwich and started to pick at the crust. "Hm, you of all people deserve happiness," she said plainly. "And stop saying you will never match up with me, because you're already better at most things than me. You have talents I will never be able to match up to, because you are special in your own way." Not feeling at all hungry, Saya set the sandwich on the coffee table. She hoped that Sam wouldn't be offended that she didn't touch the food. She didn't want to take one bite from it and then waste it completely. "Tell you about me..."

Saya stood from the couch and walked to the front window of the store. She heard tires of a car screeching earlier and was curious to see what it was. Saya pulled the Gothic lace curtains back and looked to the outside world. There was a girl standing outside of her car, apparently upset about something. It seemed like she was yelling at a man that almost matched her age, but it wasn't in anger. More like horror. The man, on the other hand, looked upset and kept silent as the lady freaked out. When the lady was done, she saw the man spoke to the lady and then walked off away from her. The poor man was probably almost hit by the female, Saya assumed. Her eyes drew away from the scene and looked elsewhere on the neighborhood before her. A light rain had began to fall, and Saya couldn't help but to smile a little. 'Rain...'

The curtains fell back in place as Saya drew her fingers away from them. "Tell you about me..." Saya repeated. "Well, there's nothing much to say today. The shop has been completely desolate almost all day. That is it and nothing more." Catching a book out of place with the corner of her eye, Saya moved away from the window and picked up the stray book. It was a copy of Charles Dickson's Oliver Twist. The only time the shop had been busy for Saya was when the English teachers assigned book reports and the children needed books. As soon as they found what they were looking for, they never came back to visit again. Saya turned her back on Sam, placing the book on the shelf next to the other classics. She wasn't sure what to say to Sam now. He didn't hurt her feelings in any way... Not at all. She was just having one of those days where she was switching from one mask to another, not sure how to portray her emotions.
________________________________________________​

"I'm not afraid,
I'm not ashamed,
I'm not to blame"​

Welcome to the Masquerade​

"I'm not ashamed,
I'm not afraid,
I'm not okay"​

 

​

• • • • • 
          ”
          
          Betrayal. Humiliation. First, she had been deceived by her best friend in the entire world and her soul mate. Then, she had been turned down by some chick from college. THEN, she gets into a violent car accident in which the victim scolds her for not having killed him. No. Hell no. This is not how the day was supposed to have gone. She was supposed to have met up with Alejandro, gone from a jog, maybe touched a muscle or two, had a romantic kiss and then ridden off into the sunset… in his Lamborghini Revention. It would have been perfect. If there was one thing that was going to go right was this accident. Maybe she was just desperate for company, maybe she was mildly attracted to crude narcissism, but whatever it was, she wasn’t going to let this guy be an addition to the awfulness she had experienced that day.
          
          A loud, aggravating blare interrupted her train of thought and sent her flinching. She glared jade daggers at the source and scowled at a very annoyed looking middle-aged man sitting in his seat.
          
          He was the only one out of the few cars driving down this road who didn’t go around her car. His eyes were staring right back into hers behind silver-rimmed glasses, her finger tapping on the steering wheel and his classical music roaring from the speakers. She was definitely not in the mood to deal with this, so she stomped (yes, in her heels) back to her car, climbing into the drivers seat and making herself comfortable, taking her time adjusting everything before slamming her foot down on the gas and turning in the direction the man had started to walk in. Skilled in the ways of a creeper, she slowed down just slightly and continued to drive beside him, calling out to him.
          
          “Hey!”
          
          …No response.
          
          “HEY!” She honked her horn, obnoxiously until she knew he had heard her. Continuing with her antics she snarled and rolled her eyes. “I’M REALLY SORRY I ALMOST KILLED YOU—ER…DIDN’T KILL YOU TODAY. BUT HEY. LET ME MAKE IT UP TO YOU.”
          
          This was, of course, not really a polite request from it a stranger. It was a demand from a psychotic teenager. There was a smile on her face, but a glare in her eyes, like, seriously, if he didn’t get into the car she was going to follow him home and stand outside of his house screaming glare. But other than that, this was totally normal.
          
          
          

//OOC:

​

 

Sam Corinx​

Sam looked over at Saya as she spoke, raising an eyebrow and snorting. “Ha. Yeah right, not even.” He murmured quietly, closing his eyes. It was something that managed to offput him about Saya. She seemed so nice and kind all the time, yet there was a trace, something nearly indistinguishable that was just…He didn’t know how to describe it. He put it out of his mind for the moment as he lay in the chair, not saying anything. He wasn’t sure what to say, exactly, but he knew that it was fine with Saya to just sit there in silence, enjoying each other’s company even if they didn’t talk.
Sam sat up, opening his lips to say something when, instead, a surprised grunt came from his vocal cords. A peal of lightning had startled the boy and he forgot the statement he was about to utter as a white crack illuminated the blackening, stormy skies. “Oh, my God…When did this happen, it came on so fast!” He exclaimed, standing up from the chair only to take a defensive step backwards as another bolt of lightning leapt across the sky. “Saya, come see!” He called, waving her over. As if to assist in the storm’s intimidation of the town, Sam moved the lace curtains to the side so the storm could be witnessed in its entirety by the pair.
Sure, Sam had seen his share of storms in the town. His house had been flooded numerous times, their garden had been swept away, and he even knew people that died when they fell into the storm drains. Still, those storms paled in comparison to what was happening outside. With a gust of wind that was audible even indoors caused a new sheet of rain to begin falling. Sam stared down incredulously as raindrops the size of peanuts began to appear seemingly from nowhere, the dark, oppressive clouds looming larger and larger as the time ticked by. It made the male begin to feel sort of nervous as the rain made splashes, visible even from feet away on the flooding pavement, the roof creaking and the walls doing the same at the vicious wind. He knew that he shouldn’t be nervous, they had storm drains, they had levies, and they had all these defense mechanisms to make sure that nothing went wrong. Hell, they even had an alarm that went off when stuff got bad, sending a signal throughout the city to override all radio and television stations to broadcast a warning to get to safety, either a bunker or a helicopter to evacuate the city until the flooding was done. With a little shift that displayed is nervousness, the boy stood back so that Saya could inspect the angry Mother Nature for herself.
Meanwhile, around the edges of the town, the large levies that were protecting the town from certain doom were beginning to make sounds of strain and turmoil. The water and debris from the wasteland surrounding was beginning to pile up. The large, central alarm system began to flash red, though it ended when a white bolt of lightning crashed straight into it, as if God himself was ordaining the entire thing to happen. The time had come for the unfolding, the unraveling of the lifestyle of all in the town. Because the alarm system wouldn’t go off-it was now no more than a smoldering rod of metal and glass-, the levies could crack and burst and the city could flood beyond its capacity, yet those inside would never know the difference because no alarm would ever blare, no radio broadcast would ever be sent out. The inhabitants of the town would die in nothing but the sound of their own screams. The levies began to crack, no one taking notice, as waterfalls of blackish brown water, tainted with the grime and oil from outside began to gush into the town, flooding first the rural exterior. The things steadily began to break more and more, allowing for the misconception that the little puddle of water that was growing in the town was the main extent of the flood. No, when the levies burst, a tidal wave of epic proportions was going to be born.

 

Parker kept walking, resuming his path home. It had only been mere seconds since he almost got ran over, but the accident had already left his mind. The boy was once again lost in the sounds of the city, an entangled song of sirens, conversations, barking, and honking...especially honking. It took him only a few moments to realize he was the one being honked at. He stopped walking and snapped back to reality once more. It looked like he wasn't going to savor the last moments of his high as much as he had hoped. It was already fading. Fading because he had been on it all night and morning. Fading because a near-death experience had brought him back to Earth. Fading because this car next to him was obnoxiously honking its horn. Fading because his would-be murderer was yelling at him to make it up to him for almost ending his life. Seriously? Was he still suffering from the effects of all those pills? Or was she really just this strange?

"Make it up to me?" He asked apathetically as he turned his head to her. He walked over to her car, stepping off the curb and into a puddle, not realizing that it hadn't even started raining yet but a puddle was there nonetheless. "How do you plan on doing that?" He asked the second question as he bent over and stuck his head into her passenger window. His eyes were circles of dark brown, each surrounded with a ring of bright green, floating in a pool of red, not white. He stared into her own green eyes, raising an eyebrow. "Would you rather do something more personal than running me over? I'm sure a stab to the heart would be effective."
​