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Post by valekin on May 24, 2007 13:46:53 GMT -8
Today could not have been worse. For one, it was bright and sunny, and warm. What a mess. Nothing like Valekin liked at all. He liked it wet, dreary, dark, cloudy, and cold. This was the exact opposite. The weatherman lied to him. He showed up at the beach, expecting not a single sane soul to be there. Everyone and their cousin was there.
"Shit."
How could anything get done today, with so many people hanging around? It could not have been any worse. The hot sand was heating up the metal on his boots. Waves of thermal energy could be seen coming off of the Serb. And he was pissed. He trudged through the sand, and plopped a few meters ahead of one asian woman in a green camo bikini. Taking off his trench coat revealed the horrible scars on his back, and the intricate tattoos as well.
Some scars were like spiderwebs, others little punctures, some long slashes. But wherever there was room, there was some ink. Making his body a work of art. From pain, and ink. He sat on the sand indian style, and closed his eyes. Listening to the sounds of the beach. This is where he came to fend off his demons. From the pregeneration point of life. The Ocean.
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Post by valekin on May 27, 2007 17:12:37 GMT -8
At first Valekin did not believe the Asian woman was addressing him. Then when he realized it. He was shocked. She wanted him to do what? Couldn't she clearly see that he was trying to fight off Klaus' mood swings? Didn't she know that her sunblock would just have to wait until he was... ya know.. SANE?! Of course not. She wasn't in his head, no one was in his head. Who'd want to be?
"You want me to do what?"
He said in the rare voice of disbelief. This was odd behavior for Valekin to exhibit, or witness anyone else exhibit. Why would a complete stranger, ask another complete stranger to rub sunscreen on their back and possibly grope them? That is just... odd. That's dangerous. Considering she could see his knife and it's sheathe on his back.
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Post by valekin on May 27, 2007 17:39:12 GMT -8
"My people do not get sunstroke. But the your offer was generous. I'll help you out."
He swore to himself. Wishing he was back in Serbia. No beaches in Serbia. Just mountain tops that he could isolate himself on. Beaches by nature were crowded, all the time. And he hated crowds. More than he hated American television. Such horrible taste. No shame at all. If he knew where they were all located, he'd start killing all the heads of television corporations, just like the weatherman.
"Give me the bottle."
He couldn't believe he was doing this. He had gotten up, and held a hand out for the bottle of lotion. Touching people, especially women, was not something he was very comfortable with. Killing people was something totally different. So was cannibalism. They were dead then.
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Post by valekin on May 27, 2007 18:57:15 GMT -8
"Art? Oh. It's all over me. You can look when I'm done."
The maniac said as he sat behind her. Putting a glob of suntan lotion on his clawed hands, and rubbing them together. He'd then proceed to massage the woman's back. So that the lotion would do it's job. Rather than char her to a crisp like it could do. This made him extremely uncomfortable however. He was groping some woman's bare back.
.............
Awkward...
He felt so completely awkward. He had no memory of lessons in the social aspect. All of his lessons were military, and etiquette. That was all. Nothing about boys and girls. Nothing about mingling. It was all Black Ops.. Swords, guns, and covert operations. He was a killing machine. Not a masseuse![/color]
"I did the tattoos on me myself."
The tattoos on his back were intricate, yes. But the ones on his chest, and arms, were absolutely arabesque. So elegant, and so artistic. What painstaking hours of work he had slaved over in insanity to produce it.
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Post by valekin on May 27, 2007 19:51:30 GMT -8
"Actually I feel quite odd. I'm not... a social person."
That was the truth. He wasn't a social person. He rubbed her pink skin, not too rough. For his claws would cut her open. It was like a light back scratch. Those claws had flayed so many people, so easily. And he was being gentle. With maddening thoughts running through his head.
Kill her...
No.. not in front of all these people...
Kill her Valekin...
I told you no.
KILL HER![/color][/size]
An eye flashed purple for an instant.
I want to taste her flesh. Her soft succulent flesh!
I said no....
[/i]
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Post by valekin on May 28, 2007 12:54:21 GMT -8
"You're welcome."
The Maniac said as he got up from behind her to go sit back where he had been sitting. Of course she decided to make conversation with the craziest fuck on the beach. Someone needs to give her better people radar. That's obvious.
"I have no idea how I did it. I was in a... trance. I suppose."
That much was true, he didn't remember how he did it. Whether it was in a mirror, contorted, or using a machine. He did it himself, all of it. Not a single drop of ink in his skin was not put there by himself. If he ever became a sane person. He'd be a very good tattoo artist.
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Post by valekin on May 30, 2007 12:45:51 GMT -8
The Maniac snorted at her camel comment. He wasn't a camel, but he had alot of tolerance. And didn't become dehydrated or burned easily. Vale was a little enigmatic. And until she started to talk about herself, he didn't really pay much attention to her. He was there to fight his demons. Maybe this would be more distracting?
"Hmph. Usually people take a look at me and shudder in fear. I know what it's like to be shunned. SO why do you talk to me?"
He more or less ignored her comment on him being a professional tattoo artist. He had thought about it. But it wasn't a priority. What did he need money for? It's not like he didn't own a few restaurants and a factory, as well as a Barony in Serbia. Vale was loaded. Crazy, but loaded. A career here would only be there to provide him with something to do, and maybe some joy.
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Post by valekin on Jun 2, 2007 7:33:25 GMT -8
"Hmmm. You have a point, though I can't answer your question without.. divulging certain information about myself. Thus ending strangerhood, and creating acquaintancehood. And I'm not sure it's in your best interest to form a relationship with one such as I."
She looks edible....
They all look edible to you...
You won't let me have the young ones....
Because that's not fair to them....
So?
"I'm not exactly a model citizen."
Valekin laughed at that. Himself, a model citizen? That would never happen. Model citizens can't shell out firebombs and shrapnel bombs by the dozen in their own homes. They don't have boxes full of those kinds of explosives just waiting to be taken advantage of behind locked doors. They don't have armored plated cars.
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Post by valekin on Jun 2, 2007 9:57:09 GMT -8
"Heh, I don't attend school. I graduated from college at... fourteen I think. I have a degree in field medicine and demolition. Though when I came to America, your laws forced me into school until I was eighteen. Which I abided by."
A little jog down memory lane. That's what this really was. Maybe it'd be a little helpful for him? Who knows. Getting him to remember the times before he was crazy is usually a good thing.
"It's unusual, I know, but I was forced into the Serbian military since I could hold a weapon. So they turned me into a soldier. A well qualified, and smart, soldier."
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Post by valekin on Jun 2, 2007 11:21:27 GMT -8
"HA! Exciting his hardly the word for it. Imagine your in a city much like this one. Where the chance of you stepping on a butterfly mine is infinitely higher. A random shelling could take out the building your in, or the street. Something could collapse and crush you for what appears to be no reason. You could walk into a rebel ambush on your way to the mall. Every day was an adventure."
He looked out at the waves. There were no waves in Serbia. Just... fire, Ash, snow, and smoke.
"I miss some things that came with that lifestyle though. The comrades. The smoke rising after a battle. Driving a Tijger tank right into the heart of the enemy base. I sometimes watch the kids around here play their little games of war. They don't really know what it's like."
He was opening up about his war-torn past! Good for him. One step closer to the road to recovery.
"I can't feel a thing in my left arm. Hollow point round struck my shoulder, disconnecting the primary sensory nerve to that arm. Most of my scars are from that era of my life... I heal quickly, and scar horribly. I've been shot, stabbed, slashed, and bombed. I'm quite convinced that I'm immortal."
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Post by valekin on Jun 3, 2007 11:57:37 GMT -8
"It can be. But like Leprosy, it can be a curse. I wouldn't know if I've been shot in my arm, or if it had been accidentally cut off. So there are it's pros and cons, as there are with anything."
He shifted himself, turning away from the waves, and looking back at her. Those elliptical eyes were swirling pools of... many things. Hunger, bloodlust, anger, self-loathing. Many many things.
"What about yourself?"
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Post by valekin on Jun 6, 2007 13:10:27 GMT -8
"Gain an addiction to Morphine?"
Despite his belief, schools do not use morphine. It's too powerful for the kiddies, and makes them see things and gives them strange reactions. Sure, he led an exciting and interesting life. But it was along the lines of "Look a bomb!" exciting, rather than "Get the ping pong ball in the cup!". Two different kinds of exciting, both bad!
"Could be worse, could be raining."
Usually when he says raining, he means a bombardment. A bombardment would always be worse. It would blow things up, and the random shell could kill them all! Wouldn't that be something.
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Post by valekin on Jun 16, 2007 17:52:23 GMT -8
"I wonder.. have you had students with slash and piercing wounds? Morphine would be good for them. T'would knock them out, and take the pain completely off them. Though, there is the risk of hallucinations, and cardiac arrest in some cases."
He had a degree in field medicine.
"I've treated battle wounds before. Pulling shrapnel from a soldiers groin is not the most fulfilling of past jobs I've ever had."
The first thing he said in the previous round of conversation had no double meaning. But the second sentence, always has a double meaning. The fact that rain just makes everything worse usually. And then there was the metaphorical aspect of it; which meant that Oki could have a worse reputation, rather than scary nurse.
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Post by valekin on Jun 17, 2007 11:25:06 GMT -8
"That's the best case scenario in your field. Returning someone back to health so that they could carry out their life as normal. In the field I used to be in, the best case scenario would be saving the soldiers life so he could take someone else's away. It's... quite the opposite don't you think?"
Blasted sun. Though he wouldn't burn, he'd have to be careful of getting basal skin carcinoma, or melanoma. Skin cancer was a bitch. Burning was one thing, getting a high dose of UVB waves was something totally different.
"I'd actually prefer it if it was raining right now. Then I'd have the beach mostly to myself."
He mumbled underneath his breath.
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