?Good night Sven, feel free to drop by anytime you want,? Carolina said standing up and locking the door behind him. ?I should probably go see how Dillon is doing. Nah. He?s probably sleeping and I wouldn?t want to wake him.? With that, she went off to her room, looking at her bag in dismay. She still hadn?t unpacked but figured she?d get to it tomorrow. She changed into some sweats and a tank top before grabbing her latest book out of her bag. She sat down on the window, opening it up to let the cool air in, and started getting lost into the pages as she had done multiple times before. She felt her eyes drooping and finally gave into the fact that she needed to sleep. Unwillingly she pulled out her alarm clock and slipped into bed, leaving the window open so that she could feel the breeze coming in. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was asleep.
Sven made his way back to his own room and opened the door as quietly as he could, not knowing whether Rochelle was still awake or not. He saw she was not only awake, but not alone.
Rochelle looked up as Sven entered. "Oh... hey, Sven." I guess I'll talk to Jon about this whole memory alteration thing later, she thought.
She turned her attention back to Jon. "We'll talk another time, kay?" she said, checking her watch; a small silver piece. "Wow, it's gotten late; I didn't notice." She got up, moved over to a closet and found a small foldable room divider inside it, which she dragged out and placed next to her bed.
"Me? A roommate?" the faun asked surprisedly, right before he stood up, throwing the bags onto his shoulders. "Of course, I'd be delighted," he continued, now a wide smile on his face, and his voice full of new confidence.
"Great, let's roll." Rhoda said, stashing her guitar away once again.
She looked out the window and noticed that it had gotten rather late.
She grabbed her things and set off alongside Sander.
"Any idea yet which room's yours?" she asked.
Dillon dried his eyes and stood up. There was no point in spending the night crying - he needed to be rested for classes tomorrow. He pulled off his t-shirt and jeans and slipped in under the bedcovers, curling up to combat the cold. There was a draught coming from somewhere - like an open window or something. It felt cool and fresh against his skin. From where he was lying, he could see out of the large window. The night was clear and bright, the stars twinkling brightly against the black sky. He watched them for a while, his eyelids drooping every now and again. Finally he fell asleep, the light of the moon illuminating his pale face.
I may have to drop out of this RP,I have made little contribution and can barely keep up,I was excited but it seems to have slipped from my grasp,sorry
"Yeah, wait for a sec," the faun responded, grabbing his left arm with his right palm and vice versa, shivering for a short moment. He was wearing a t-shirt, and he only now noticed how cold it had gotten.
"Heh, time sure flew fast, eh?" he continued, pulling out a dark-brown pullover with a pattern comprised of squares on the chest area only onto the short-sleeved light-blue collared shirt he wore before, and put on a pair of sunglasses. After the equipping of the optical darkeners, he looked back at Rhoda and smiled. He had no idea why he put them on, but he liked to be random at times.
After he reached the staircase, he quickly ran up. It was a habit of his. No stairs left unconquered, he often ran up stairs even if he didn't have to, and did it fast. It was his kink. This time, though, he really meant to and had to go up the stairs.
Turning around and reaching the floor of the second storey, he turned to the left.
"This way, Rhoda!" he said playfully, raising his voice as Rhoda seemed to be falling more behind. He waited for her, and then pointed at a door on the right wall, very near to them.
"That one."
Likewise, Rhoda put her sunglasses back on and followed suit.
She was a little slower at getting up the stairs but in her defense, she had a lot more stuff to carry than Sander.
Arriving at their destination, she noted the number on the door, 257.
"After you."
She lay awake, insomnia making her first night an awful experience, and her stomach rumbling. Not from hunger... Just... pains. She suspected the disgusting soup water she had drunken earlier was making her digestive system twist into knots.
So she sat in bed, thinking about how easy it had all once been, coiling up to press her tail into her stomach in an attempt to lessen the pain. She thought about the times when she could be sat at the table, sharing an unassuming breakfast, and the incredible moments that had followed. (And these were some pretty incredible moments, if she did say so herself.) And she remembered Valentine's Day with Archi, where he had cooked her a feast fit for a queen, and the 'moment' they shared upon the rose-strewn bed that day. And their first Christmas, he gave her the bracelet with a scale she had shed from their first date.
A bit stalker-ish, he admitted afterwards, but she loved him for it all the same. She smiled at the memories, letting herself relax slightly.
Do they go back to Heaven? Do we get to meet them there?
Her thoughts took a dark turn, leading her down the worse times in the relationship. The times when Archi could not be there... And the times when she would not be there for him, out of selfishness, lack of will or fear... But then the worst of all, a nightmarish reel showing her basest instinctual self, repeated endlessly in the background...
Her jaw unlocking, her tail crushing, her eyes filling and her love slipping away into darkness...
I would like it if we did... I have so much to apologise for. He deserved so much better than I.
Tears began to form in her eyes and she buried her head in her pillow, her only positive was that no-one was here to witness her torment.
The pain came back, sickness manifest again as her throat started to spasm.
...
She was going to throw up! She spun out of the bed as fast as she could, knocking a small ornament from the bedside table as she did so, and buried her head in her sink, vomiting violently into the porcelain bowl.
She gasped for air and wiped her mouth of the sickening substance, her eyes were filling up again. As she lifted her head away she glanced down into the horrid mess, clasping her hands to her mouth the stop herself from vomiting again. She turned away, unable to look at the sink for a moment longer.
Sitting in the sink, contorted and twisted in a shape of unimaginable pain, was Archi Balat's deformed hand.[hr]
I can't let them see... I can't throw it all away... They can never be allowed to know.
She grasped the hand and put it into a large rubbish bag, piling a few bottles in with the hand to ensure that she didn't draw attention to herself.
Then, hesitantly, she left the room and slithered down the stairs, hoping that she was the only one who had been unable to sleep.
lycanthrope321 said:
I may have to drop out of this RP,I have made little contribution and can barely keep up,I was excited but it seems to have slipped from my grasp,sorry
"Hmph, okay, fine," Sander said disappointedly, but still with a tone that hinted at his good mood. He wanted to this girl enter before him, as he always did, but if she wanted him to go first, he wouldn't start objecting either.
His hand touching the cold, metal knob of the door, he pushed the door to see if it was open. Surprisingly, it was. Upon opening the door, the smell wasn't musty and damp at all. The room was well-ventilated, and there were bed sheets already on the beds.
"By this one, I of course meant the room I was in last year. I don't know if they mea-what?" he said, suddenly letting out a gasp of surprisement, noticing a paper on one of the beds, with a name on it.
The boy quickly picked it up, noticing the name was his own.
"Well, I guess they already decided who's going to be staying in this room," he said, turning to Rhoda, and handing her the piece of paper.
"You can just throw that on to the table, I'll throw it away later," he said, noticing the lack of a recycle bin, as he jumped onto the bed he found the paper from, which he already picked out to be his.
"Well, first thing to do in the morning - get a recycle bin," he said, letting out a short burst of laugh. He sat up on the edge of his bed, and started pulling different items out of his pack, putting his guitar at the foot of his bed.
Nathan sat on the edge of one of the steps leading downstairs, looking up to see Lilith making her way down, his skull looking all the more menacing in the dim moonlight.
He was still wearing his black hoodie and grey camouflage pants, his wand out and twirling between his fingers
"N-no..." She stopped and wiped her eyes, hoping to make the tears from her earlier shock unnoticeable. "I th-thought you'd be... asleep." Or at least not here... She couldn't exactly keep going downstairs now. He was in the way and he could get curious if she was acting suspicious.
"I-... Good night... Nathan." She feigned a smile and slithered past, keeping the bag on the other side of her to keep his gaze away from it and her eyes solidly downwards, never wishing to look a different way until he was gone.
It was a little after one o'clock when Max awoke, bleary eyed and itching for a hit of the shrew. He scratched the stubble the lightly spackled his chin and rose up with a groan. He looked outside and saw moonlight had bathed the forest in a glroious shimmering pale light, a dead silence hanging still in the nightair. He opened the window to feel the breeze and let out a sigh as he reached into his leather satchel. Realising this would be the last time he could pull on his pipe, he groaned slightly. Growing another batch would take at least two days, the longest he'd been without it since he started, and he had no idea how he would react to withdrawl.
No sense worrying about that now he thought as he sucked deep on the pipe. Bile green smoke lifted lazily through the air, a sure sign that it was the very last dregs of the branch. He opened the window wider and noticed there was a concrete ledge beneath it, large enough to accoamdate his size. Smiling, he picked up his lute and vaulted over the window, landing on the ledge with a clip-clop as hoof met stone. Smiling, he curled up to himself and gazed at the moon, thumbing out a menlancholic blues strum with his free hands.
Humming slightly at first, he eventualy began to sing to himself.
"The green demon sits and laughs on my shoulder
As I suck a lie through a hole and spit out the truth
I thought I'd get wiser as I got older
But the truth is as clear as the black on my tooth
Smoke covers me from the fact I hide from
That I'd spend a lifetime in another persons shoes
This herb is a cruth I'm forced to rely on
Yeah I'm suffering bad from the Shrewgrass blues..."
His voice, loud and grave, echoed throughout the campus. It was beautiful. It was heartbreaking.
Sorry if that seemed OTT, been itching to write something like that haha!
Stealing a quick glance at Sander's guitar, Rhoda instantly recognised the model.
It was a Fender GA-45 SCE. A good solid model, and one that Rhoda had briefly considered buying before finding her beloved Ibanez.
She pulled off her red hoodie, exposing her rarely seen vanilla tube-top and took off her sunglasses.
Her suitcase she stuffed under her bed, her backpack she flung into a corner and her guitar she gently placed next to her bed.
She then grabbed her large bag and began to pull random items out of it:
An alarm-clock, a small black notebook, a small wooden box, a Swiss army-knife, a large sketchpad, a TV-sized flat box covered in scribbles and various other odds and ends.
She then finally flung the bag (which at this point was still at least 3-quarters full) on top of her backpack.
She briefly went over her schedule for tomorrow, before grabbing her sketchpad and pulling a piece of charcoal out one of the many many pockets on her trousers.
She began sketching the room, and Sander sorting out his things.
This site uses cookies to help personalise content, tailor your experience and to keep you logged in if you register.
By continuing to use this site, you are consenting to our use of cookies.
