Hopes and Fears

[Patrick O'Connor]

A few days after his recovery from being shot Daniel had found his way back to his old stomping grounds, the roof on top of the school. He loved it up here, though he'd never admit it to that extent. Daniel liked to watch the urban sprawl laid out before him and to listen to the close but yet distant buzz of the city. Having lived in a city his whole life he felt quite at home here. The noise was white that allowed him to slip into his thoughts quite easily, though it was debatable on whether this was a good thing or not as his thoughts haunted him day and night.

It had been awhile since Daniel had been to school in any sort of regularity. There had been a whole myriad of shit that had kept him away. Jail for one, inciting the SLF riot had locked him away for a few weeks. That had led him to disappear into a fit of binge drinking and drug abuse as jail had kept him living in his nightmares. That had consumed some more time and then fresh out of his binge drinking he brought a gun to school after discovering one of his torture victims attendance at 259. He had her shoot him so he could pay for what he had done. That had taken a few more days. And so that had found him here with a bottle of whiskey in hand, not even trying to hide the fact that he was a drinker, regardless of if Daniel heart was not. But things were more upbeat then usual.

Daniel wore a pair of old blue jeans with a shirt was a grey t shirt that read "Whiskey Militia" with the logo plastered at his chest level. His hair was a medium length black that was ruffled up and somewhat unkempt but was still able to wave with the slight breeze that came out of the school. His eyes were a deep blue that seemed to flow with the natural climate of this place, the natural hope. The only other marks of significance were the few scars on his left forearm and the one scar that ran down from his right eyebrow down past his nose.

Daniel took a sip from his bottle of whiskey. It kept the thoughts blurred and that helped, though he wasn't doing too bad today. A few days ago he had been given a second chance. That was why he assumed that he was still alive. He assumed it had something to do with getting his shot for redemption. But then again the weight of his crimes always weighed down upon his shoulders...

[Jamys Durand]

Jakobi had been the first to welcome Jamys out of the hospital since his fight with the giant angry guy, yup pretty much each day since then had been a walking nightmare striding in small motions completely filled with pain. Vicodin just didn't do it for him any more. A pill here a pill there he'd gone through just a bit over three doses of them since getting out of the hospital just a few days earlier. That wasn't good. Then again Jakobi gave him a bit of the stuff that worked. It was called Morphine.
With the metallic cross hung around his neck and the powder stocked inside Jamys approached today with a wild eyed grin, the world blurring and melting happily to the way he'd liked it to be. All those angry disturbing faces last he'd been in school were transformed into smiles and rainbows, hell people rode in to school on unicorns. This dreams faggotry was off the radar.
Dressed all in black, nail polish included, would make up Jamy's attire looking somewhat like a girl with the extended emo do going on, but the masculine "Stein" wrapped around his torso would spell otherwise.

"Twang"

Stein would coo to the masses from the roof overhead unawares that he'd had a visitor behind him inebriated in his own musk of awesome. PEWPEWPEW

"CHAOWOW!!!!!"

[Patrick O'Connor]

Daniel stood there drinking looking out at the city when he heard someone else on the roof. Not just someone else but someone playing a guitar. It was fairly common that you seemed to find people that could play guitar to some degree but whoever was playing now was actually good. And that was fairly uncommon, so instead of turning towards the guitarist annoyed Daniel turned towards him interested. Looking at the, guy, for the first time his dress was interesting. He looked like your typical hardcore emo/scene kid type, but the guitar. The guitar was an oddity, sticking out with masculinity as opposed to the kid's more feminine outfit.

As the kid would finish Daniel would walk towards him, taking a drink of whiskey after which he would say, "Nice playing."

After a moment he would continue, "The name's Daniel Heart."

Daniel would wait for the seemingly obvious reply that would come in the form of the kid greeting him and then returning with his own name. What Daniel wouldn't know though, was that the kid was not entirely there, hopped up on morphine. That would likely be and interesting experience...

[Jamys Durand]

"Nice playing."

The little pony would say from behind him in that jeering neigh sort of disposition. Large bold eyes would squiggle around from his seated position on the ledge. His left hand nestling the neck going so far as to caress it in a near perverbial fashion while his right hand would release from the strings. The scarred tips of his fingers would peel upwards to his lips slightly chewing on the tips before retreating to his nails and picking them unconsciously even nervously so.

"The name's Daniel Heart."

The pony would be there on the grassy field of the roof quickly plopping its heavy hooves across the top of the building, he was trippin'.

"Woah dude, how do you do that?" Jamys reveled in a wasted grin his torso top heavy from the guitar and slowly slanting forward towards the pony. A wavering right hand would come up into his hairline slowly parting it over to the right side of his head in a flop fashion.

'Get a grip...'

The recesses of Jamys' mind would come out to play quickly erecting his body into an upward position, back straight shoulders defined. He was the bony sort of character, well defined if only by that measure.

"Jamys'"

He'd shrug with a lazy shoulder not wanting to talk much seeing as he was already in a giggly sort of mood, whether or not this guy was a squealer could define his residency at this school.