Post by Razz Shivanov on Oct 25, 2007 14:21:08 GMT -5
[[Mk. I know, I know. I'm annoying with these things~. Good grammar, please. And decent sized posts. In the proper RP world, the first poster sets an example in a post, and you try to live up to that length. God no, I'm not saying always, just not four/five lines to a piece like this, yes? Oh. And, closed to the next one/two people. We'll see.]]
Razz bowed his head, making the black hair fall into his eyes delicately, a little white piece of paper clutched in his hand, various almost un-readable scribbles written vertically on it. He already knew what it said. It'd been a note from his father, to pick up his suits from the dry-cleaners. The brunette was used to such tasks, as he did them often, his father too busy a man to do them himself.
A whisper reached his ears as he passed an old couple, a comment from the woman, about his appearance. He liked his clothing. So did his father, unfortunately. His father controlled a lot of what he did, what he had, and who he was, and he made sure Razz knew it. He closed his eyes for a second, the long mascara eyelashes brushing over and laying on his cheekbones for a fraction of time, almost touching the red cross on his face. He'd gotten it in a moment of defiance, induced by his mother's speeches, and dearly payed for it, later that evening, the blood which had dripped during the tattooing staining the cross in a red a little brighter than the ink. He didn't mind much anymore. He knew, if he'd thought about it, before, he would've known the consequences for getting it.
The pale fingers unwrapped themselves, dropping the paper on the floor, the words already memorized after the first ten times he'd read it, he turned, seating himself on the back of a bench in the busy street, staring at the paper from under his lashes, barely making out a few numbers, giving him a time. A time, half an hour from his current moment. He'd left a little early, in the want to be away from the business colleagues that were over, for the next few weeks. They knew. Every last one of them. And they were just like him.
He winced, mentally, running a hand over his face. He had to stay out over the next few weeks. Had to. He just didn't know how he could, spending almost all his free time inside. He sighed and pulled a pack of chewinggum from pocket, the Bubblicious kind, with each packed individually. He pulled out the four, tossing the wrapper onto the floor with the previous note, the wrappers of three of the sweet candies soon following it, the last one slipping back into his pocket, chewing on it quietly,blowing a few bubbles with it.
[[>[ Bad Razz. *Smack.* Throwing things on the floor. >__>; Oh. <3; And the title's from this greaaaat song.]]
Razz bowed his head, making the black hair fall into his eyes delicately, a little white piece of paper clutched in his hand, various almost un-readable scribbles written vertically on it. He already knew what it said. It'd been a note from his father, to pick up his suits from the dry-cleaners. The brunette was used to such tasks, as he did them often, his father too busy a man to do them himself.
A whisper reached his ears as he passed an old couple, a comment from the woman, about his appearance. He liked his clothing. So did his father, unfortunately. His father controlled a lot of what he did, what he had, and who he was, and he made sure Razz knew it. He closed his eyes for a second, the long mascara eyelashes brushing over and laying on his cheekbones for a fraction of time, almost touching the red cross on his face. He'd gotten it in a moment of defiance, induced by his mother's speeches, and dearly payed for it, later that evening, the blood which had dripped during the tattooing staining the cross in a red a little brighter than the ink. He didn't mind much anymore. He knew, if he'd thought about it, before, he would've known the consequences for getting it.
The pale fingers unwrapped themselves, dropping the paper on the floor, the words already memorized after the first ten times he'd read it, he turned, seating himself on the back of a bench in the busy street, staring at the paper from under his lashes, barely making out a few numbers, giving him a time. A time, half an hour from his current moment. He'd left a little early, in the want to be away from the business colleagues that were over, for the next few weeks. They knew. Every last one of them. And they were just like him.
He winced, mentally, running a hand over his face. He had to stay out over the next few weeks. Had to. He just didn't know how he could, spending almost all his free time inside. He sighed and pulled a pack of chewinggum from pocket, the Bubblicious kind, with each packed individually. He pulled out the four, tossing the wrapper onto the floor with the previous note, the wrappers of three of the sweet candies soon following it, the last one slipping back into his pocket, chewing on it quietly,blowing a few bubbles with it.
[[>[ Bad Razz. *Smack.* Throwing things on the floor. >__>; Oh. <3; And the title's from this greaaaat song.]]
