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Hatred is gained as much by good works as by evil. -Niccolo Machiavelli[A1i:3] |
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Post by Gabriel Seran on Oct 1, 2008 20:14:15 GMT -8
The light shimmering off of the lakeside illuminated the newly formed scar over Gabriel's right eye, it drove itself from less than an inch above his brow and caressed it's way to the center of his check without grazing the serene Emerald glimpse of his eye. He sat there staring off into the reflection of the lake wondering, "How can it all be so chaotic and yet so peaceful at the same time?"
His stance changed as he sat against a ledge overhanging the cerulean pools that held his tormented expression. Gabriel let out a loud sigh before tossing a small rock across the surface, giving it a skip or two before plummeting into the depths. This festival was the only peace he'd found in some time, after coming to PHS #259 he'd gotten into far to much trouble and now this was his time to sit back, take a break, hopefully meet some one new, some one who'd accept his mangled spirit.
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Post by "Tuvlan" on Oct 2, 2008 0:29:44 GMT -8
Smashless The boy had been walking for a while, having long left the Zen garden. There seemed to be a general peace around him. He would not say what happened there, and with (if any) who, but then, he was simply monosyllabic. Or perhaps more accurately, he was of a "monoword". Right?
This was how he was though. Long red hair. Black eye-patch over his right-eye. Army camoflogue t-shirt, aviator jacket, standard blue jeans, belt, white socks, military combat boots. Stolen, stolen, stolen, stolen, stolen, stolen, all stolen, 'save the eye-patch, given to him during one of his many visits to the nurse, back at his old, old, old school.
Upon his walk though, he found a boy, possibly of similar age or so, sitting by the edge of the lake. He couldn't tell from where he was, but perhaps the boy was dipping his feet in the water. There was a subtle movement, followed by a *Splish* *Splash* *Sploosh* that seemed to echo for miles away. Lonely.
Somehow, the boy found himself walking across the grass to join Splunker. Before he outright sat next to him, though, he bent down, loosening up his boots, and letting out a terrible reek from his feet. Putting that to the left side, the boy went and sat in far enough to let his feet get a taste of the crystal water, the dirt slowly being washed away from those wrinkles of scarred up skin on his feet, seeming to purify it, as opposed to the boy just spreading his filth. Leaning back, he placed both his hands behind him to provide some seeming sense of relaxation as he put his back under a slow, but consistent stretch. He looked to the side without a sound, having sat down a foot and a half away from Splunk, and offered a toothless smile. Though, it was important to note that he was a consistent eye-smiler, meaning his single eye shined a lot more brightly than the average verbal 'hello'.
Which, in his own odd, quiet way, was exactly what the boy was doing.
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Hatred is gained as much by good works as by evil. -Niccolo Machiavelli[A1i:3] |
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Post by Gabriel Seran on Oct 5, 2008 13:12:16 GMT -8
(OOC: sorry for the delay; busy weekend...)
IC: The smell caught his attention before anything else as his face shifted scrutinizing the waft of air that ruffled the brisk afternoon air, turning to look about he was caught by an abrupt motion and that smile, which caused him in sorts to fall over, catching himself as to not appear completely surprised by the newcomer whom crashed his solace. Gabriel recovered and gave his intruder a quick look-over, as it would seem the character had gotten fairly comfortable with himself in the time Gabriel was muddled in his own thoughts. Arms back, stretched out, scarred feet sloshing in the pool beside him. Gabriel didn't quite know how to react the the newcomer's presence just yet, emotions swathed his mind struggling to form any sentence that wouldn't come off filled with rage. "You mind!" was all Gabriel could accomplish to say His intruder's gaze made him feel uncomfortable, neither comforting nor prying; it seemed almost innocent.
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Post by "Tuvlan" on Oct 6, 2008 0:59:09 GMT -8
OOC: No worries! You got yourself caught up in the end. And besides, it's always better having fun out there then around here, neh?
"You mind!"
"Smash?"
=D?
Yes. Splunk had found himself talking to the mentally retarded transfer. The boy recognized the anger... or at least what appeared to be frustration, and only continued to smile. It was something he was used to when he "played" with others. But, this didn't really seem like an appropriate place to "play".
Something shining caught the boy's eye. Quickly looking forward, bringing his entire back forward, he nearly fell in, before he scooted himself back again. More tentatively, he leaned forward, looking into the reflection of the lake, reflecting the stars. A thought in the boy's head occurred in the boy's head, and suddenly he scooped both of his two big hands into the water. The reflection was marred by the color of his skin, but the water had enough life and characteristic to it to still reflect a few of the stars.
Grinning excitedly, he looked over at Splunk, already comfortable with Splunk's presence, as he held out both of his hands, as he continued sitting forward, leaning in an awkward way, looking at the water leaking out of his hands and then looking up with that same amount of childish enthusiasm, looking at Splunk too with a big eye, as if to say, "Look! I caught the stars!"---
---'Til he realized that all the water had drained away.
The smile dropped for a moment, but quickly returned, although perhaps not as exuberant. After all... even if he didn't know what it was, he knew there was something wrong with him. But that was the boy, that was his life, and this was the only way that he could be happy. Returning into a normal sitting position as his toes played lightly, but quietly against the surface of the water's surface, he looked forward for a moment before slowly looking at Splunk again, nodding politely. Though obviously the boy wasn't known for his social graces, this much was understandable: "Talk?"
Honestly, the boy had nothing to do right now, and it was a pain to try and convey what he meant. And after his encounter with Icky-Air, his interest in other people had changed up a bit, aside from purely fighting.
'Be nice to listen to someone else for once.
To hear their story.
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There is no route to knowledge more perfect than observation. |
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Post by Alexander Dvoryanstvo on Oct 6, 2008 19:49:05 GMT -8
Alex regarded his toes. He had walked around the circumference of the temple three times, and his feet were starting to hurt (ill-protected as they were by his thin brown flip-flops). Away from the crowds and lanterns, the chill air drew the heat from Alex's body and scattered it into the night. He could barely replay his previous conversation with Eric in his mind's eye. "You mind!" The sound was like a slap in the face, couched within the silence of the night. It sounded like a fight was brewing. The rules within the temple were clear, but here it was secluded, secret, safe--if one knew how to act quietly. Alex did, and he prayed the others did not. Bowed at the waist, he approached the direction of the voice. And then--the sounds of water, barely a whisper. Alex could see the reflection of the heavens disturbed upon the face of the lake, and soon, beneath the starlight, the silhouettes of two figures came into view. He was close enough to overhear. Alex slowly lowered himself down into the brush, and waited.
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Hatred is gained as much by good works as by evil. -Niccolo Machiavelli[A1i:3] |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Gabriel Seran on Oct 7, 2008 15:03:32 GMT -8
The Character proved to not understand that Gabriel preferred his solace, but his childlike demeanor proved to combat Gabriel's quick nerves. "Smash huh?" Its far too peaceful here to smash...Gabriel's eyes would glaze over in the evening breeze focusing on the figures cupped handle hold on all but the world, oh how Gabriel dreamed of being to those far off worlds and hoped that some day the world might be as perfect as those heavenly bodies. Gabriel returned to meet the smile, feeling assured that he wasn't the only one who dreamed of such impossible things, that we sculpt our fates beyond any higher power.
"Sorry, not quite used to people just yet..." Gabriel would say all too sympathetic
his hand came down at the pool to retrieve a scoop of mirrored power and looked significantly toward it expecting as if all the answers would just fall freely from their locked up states.
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Post by "Tuvlan" on Oct 8, 2008 1:18:19 GMT -8
Roles To Play, Roles To Break "Smash huh?" Yes.
Smash.
But the boy just carried on as he would."Sorry, not quite used to people just yet..." The boy just shrugged at this, still smiling his slightly quieter smile. In a manner of speaking, he wasn't exactly used to people---in this way---himself. But that was fine. In turn, the boy would tuck his knees in, more towards his chest, his arms wrapping about them, as he'd peer on over. Apparently Splunk had gone and made his way to look at the water's reflection himself. Or a backwards view of the stars. But answers never came so easily, no matter how overwhelmingly amazing something may be. More for the fact that its generally more anticlimactic.
Questions to answers.
"Why can't I say anything else?"
"Why the orphanage?"
"When did I stop caring?"
No, instead, the boy would only scoot himself over slightly, still keeping himself in that odd sitting position, before he'd loose his right hand, and point at the water mirror Splunk made for himself, staring at it expectantly, as if he'd understand too. But he didn't. Of course he didn't. To each their own, for each had their own set of questions, for their own set of answers. For the fact, he kept pointing at it, and slowly looked at Splunk with his one eye, until he'd eventually catch Splunk's attention. Or get outright ignored, which was fine for him too. But people have this sense of knowing when they're being looked at, like eyes seeking out each other. A strange phenomena that happens on a daily basis.
If he did look back, though, the boy would then emphasis his point at the water mirror, and then back at Splunk, raising a brow. Which could raise any number of potential questions that the boy might want to ask. With this, though, he hoped that out of the many questions he asked with his simple gesture that Splunk would at least be able to give the answer to the question he wanted asked of himself.
...As for the man who was watching them, over in the bushes?
The boy was completely and absolutely oblivious, as his ability to react properly tended to be just as bad as his ability to read his opponent's moves. After all, he was just a mentally retarded kid. And that's how he would remain. What could he possibly know, right?
Right?
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Hatred is gained as much by good works as by evil. -Niccolo Machiavelli[A1i:3] |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Gabriel Seran on Oct 18, 2008 15:05:48 GMT -8
Gabriel at this point had returned to his own seclusion ignoring the world and all its inhabitants and began to mumble on wards to himself. "Le monde est-il à petit ou l'est juste que mes rêves sont trop grand, je suis signifié pour changer ce monde ?"
His flawless accent burned the words into the evening as the clouds overhead drifted by. Gabriel resumed his speech from the flat of his back staring dreamily into a mass of purple-pink fluff, lined with a navy blue ring, overhead.
"Il semble juste comme si tout ne fait pas juste le sens plus. ... "
*Sigh* he breathed deeply as his eyes fluttered, before looking over to his companion to ask
"Do you understand my friend...?"
"Bien sûr ne vous faites pas, même si je parlais dans l'anglais, Si seulement je pourrais être aussi simple que vous, les choses seraient-ils meilleures je me demande ?"
His gaze drifted back to his orange sun painting the sky with its beauty beckoning him to ascend reality and drift into the beyond...
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Post by "Tuvlan" on Oct 27, 2008 23:29:23 GMT -8
Another Way Of Knowing "Le monde est-il à petit ou l'est juste que mes rêves sont trop grand, je suis signifié pour changer ce monde ?"Raising his head lightly, the boy looked about to Splunk."Il semble juste comme si tout ne fait pas juste le sens plus. ... " As for the boy... he just..."Do you understand my friend...?" Smile. Of course not. Yet at the same time, he looked at Splunk. The body gestures. The rise and fall of the voice. Starting low in a mumble, growing into a burning ramble, and then the dramatic idealistic sigh befitting that of a story teller. However... the boy shook his head. Showing he understood enough to portray that he did not understand this foreign language. But he was already playing the words, phrases, accents... everything about this new verbal treat, over and over again in his head. Something else to commit to memory, to think over."Bien sûr ne vous faites pas, même si je parlais dans l'anglais, Si seulement je pourrais être aussi simple que vous, les choses seraient-ils meilleures je me demande ?" Saddened little words. The boy sat up enough to look at Splunk, before moving himself forward a bit, and moving up his legs into a crouch. He knelt over Splunk, nodding quietly for a moment---but more as a form of seeking acknowledgment of some sort, while simultaneously giving it back. A frown played on the boy's face as his freed up right hand, laying on his right thigh, went up to Splunk's shoulder. There was a light squeeze---that threw harder, as he bent over, bending over to look Splunk in the face.
Grimacing.
"Smash."
:/
'Why so serious?'
Suddenly turning his face into a smile, he gave a few harsh pats on the shoulder, before standing up, to look away, opposite from Splunk.
Red hair trailing after him, as he looked off... not into the sun, but into the empty sky that was still barely illuminated. For that was all that was left to him. He could not portray, nor understand the feelings of envy he had for Splunk. Story-weaver, foreign-language speaker, a man who could speak and paint emotions with words, and display in a physical form the understanding of these thoughts and feelings.
Frustration.
When no anger can be expressed, nor sadness, nor true joy or happiness... when a person is limited to one single word, it leads to the emotion a newborn child feels. Frustration. There was no way to teach the boy, only to attain it through more and more experiences, harsh or otherwise.
*Blink*
Looking down... he realized that his hands were in fists. In fact, he had drawn blood from himself.---*Rustle*---The boy had the sudden urge to leave. From the sounds of it, more people were heading this way. Pivoting himself, he extended out his right bloody hand. An offer for a handshake.
"Smash...?" raising his eyebrows lightly as he offered a gentle smile. The blood dripping lightly from the tips of his fingers.
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Hatred is gained as much by good works as by evil. -Niccolo Machiavelli[A1i:3] |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Gabriel Seran on Oct 28, 2008 13:13:30 GMT -8
"Smash." Gabriel turned to see the boy beside him, smiling as ever We’ll that’s for the best rather be smiling and naïve, then brooding and pensive. That brought a smile to his face as he thought of the humor in it. "Smash...?" The ‘little smasher’ as Gabriel would put it extended a hand, a hand of friendship. Gabriel returned the favor clasping the wet, crimson hand of the boy.
“The names Gabriel, nice to meet you.” He smiled later realizing he had a fistful of blood.
Being no stranger to it washed it away in the pool beneath his feet.
*sigh* Gazing in the reflection Gabriel found little solace in his actions.
“Beautiful evening isn’t it.” He spoke outward whether or not the ‘little smasher’ had gone or not.
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Post by "Unfettered" on Nov 10, 2008 16:06:50 GMT -8
Gut Nacht, Mein Freund “Beautiful evening isn’t it.”"Ja... ven zer are no mentally retarded transferz to filth zings up..." a calm voice recollected, as a shoving sound was made soon after. It was indiscernible to see what went on between "Tuvlan" and "Unfettered" at that angle, but no further noises were made. Instead, the German simply strode on out of the shadows, unaccompanied, the boy with long red hair gone."Gut nacht, mein freund. Vat bringz you here, oye?" the familiar voice said, standing over his comrade. Hands holding each other, sleeves over each other, as they hid his arms. A blue yukata, and sandals. Hair knotted back into a pony-tail. He nodded, as he stood by the edge of the lake, a tired smile on his face---but whether it was ominous or as plain as it looked was yet to be found.
Why?
Something about the German's eye---though, after the Correctional Facility incident... well...
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Hatred is gained as much by good works as by evil. -Niccolo Machiavelli[A1i:3] |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Gabriel Seran on Nov 11, 2008 0:06:30 GMT -8
He would’ve almost drifted off into a daze if he hadn’t heard the voice of Unfettered over the cloud of thoughts shouting in his head.
"Ja... ven zer are no mentally retarded transferz to filth zings up..."
Gabriel had missed what’d happened but the other kid that was here earlier had disappeared, whatever happened to him he couldn’t tell.
"Gut nacht, mein freund. Vat bringz you here, oye?" The German would reply
Before returning his sights on the bountiful sea of color before him Gabriel eyed up the eyepatch of his benevolent leader, wondering to himself subconsciously how he’d gotten such an injury.
“Oh, me….,” Gabriel paused to think over how exactly he’d come to be there, “Well I just heard there was a bit of action going on up here, but as you can see I got a little distracted.”
Gabriel peered off into the mellow foreground searching the endless night light up with fire.
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Post by "Unfettered" on Nov 15, 2008 18:49:49 GMT -8
The Distance Versus The Here “Oh, me…” his compatriot said, pausing over that thought for a while. “Well I just heard there was a bit of action going on up here, but as you can see I got a little distracted.”Distracted?
Raising an eyebrow, the German looked on into the distance. Night time too, with very few clouds. Definitely a nice change... How deceitful, in symbolism. Quietly sitting himself down next to Gabriel, keeping his hands to themselves, as he continued to cover the entirety of his arms, legs crossed Indian-style, he looked on. Of course."...Vell," the German began slowly, never looking away from the view, "vat doez a scene like zis mean to you?"
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