Role Playing - Players 8 | but it's your heart, not mine, that's scarred - Page 3

xKatx · 08-14-2006, 09:50 AM

OOC: Sorry Sarah! I'm slow!

Maya

I quirked my eyebrow at him slightly, a suspicious smile playing on my lips. "Please tell me that isn't some sort of euphemism for..." I trailed off, leaving it to him to make whatever assumptions he wishes. All I'm saying is that when a guy says that he's enjoying the 'pleasure of his own company' a girl has a right to let her mind wander to possibly dirty places. Nevertheless, I wasn't going to be the one to vocalize such thoughts, I was - of course - a lady. I peered into the direction of his hands, hoping to see what he may be holding, and knowing Max it could've been a number of things, all of which I was sure to enjoy.

"Care to share or are we being stingy tonight?" I asked, smirking at him, knowing that my requests were rarely denied. I looked him up and down very quickly, noting that his appearance this evening was severly lacking when it came to the costume department. Granted, I wasn't exactly one to judge, considering my black flared jeans and Sex Pistols tshirt hardly passes for a costume. But I was armed and ready with a defense should anyone question me. Was Max as prepared as I was? "And what the hell are you supposed to be?" I questioned, making it clear that I had no idea.

he is the zissou · 08-14-2006, 10:27 AM

Anna.
Yes. She was childish enough, vindictive enough, and recklessly competitive to such a degree that she was fully willing to risk having someone she barely knew outside of sporadic sexual intercourse rip her head off with his bare hands. She would have been dead, maybe, but she would have made damn sure her point was good and proven before she died. Oh, and proven it had been. Anna watched with detached amusement and endless satisfaction as Nolan lost all traces of any sort of the annoying composure he had possessed in such great quantity when confronting her earlier at the bar. Calling him angry would have been an understatement, but, even though he'd thrown her to the side quite violently before standing up, Anna could not be bothered with feeling an immediate threat. "Don't be such a pansy, Nolan, it was only a scratch," she stated calmly over his psychopathic ranting, casually picking out the tatters of his skin that had accumulated beneath her fingernails.

Sick, demented, cunt-faced bitch. Hm. She had been called sick, demented, a cunt, and (many times) a bitch, but never all at once. Bravo, McAllister! Bravo! He had probably not intended it to be humorous, but Anna could not stop the laughter that bubbled inside of her at what she viewed as the absolute absurdity of the big tantrum he was throwing over a little scratch. Anna briefly considered telling her howling male counterpart to suck it up and take it like a man, but she bit her tongue. She had already called him a pansy and it was hardly the time to repeatedly question his masculinity, she reasoned. Anna was insane, not masochistic.

Still laughing, she snatched up his discarded tequila and sat back to enjoy the show while taking steady sips from the bottle. He looked like he wanted to do a few very not nice things to her. "Truce!" She yelled, rising to stand and holding out the alcohol as if to make a peace offering. The glower he hurled her way stopped Anna in her tracks, paused mid-step with a delighted expression on her face. An angry man was an insanely tempting man and it was a damn shame they'd already exhausted themselves, because, boy, was he was livid. She must have scratched a little harder than she had realized. "Come on, Nolan. Don't be such a girl about it, let's kiss and make-up." Or not. If looks could kill... actually, no. It popped into Anna's head that it didn't matter if looks could kill because men could and Nolan looked a mere two seconds away from exercising full use of that ability. Time to, uh, defuse the situation. "Okay, I apologize! Look, I mean it! I'll prove it, even. Whatever you want, name it. It's yours."

x*Brooke*x · 08-14-2006, 11:18 AM

Keston

Keston wasn't exactly sure whether Chloe would follow him or not, but he was sort of hoping she didn't. So Keston could continue to hobble along for a little ways, until he simply gave up and phoned his mother to pick him up. Although he couldn't execute his plan since he heard someone behind him, who didn't have too far to catch up, and he let out probably the millionth sigh that evening. "I didn't just forget it. If you havn't noticed i can't exactly walk and carry books in the process. I'm not priveledged to do so."

He smirked, a little bitterly as he pushed the black binder back towards Chloe as he raised an eyebrow. "Unless you want to follow me while carrying the binder? That way it won't be tossed into the bushes the moment you turn your back. Because that thought is very tempting right now." Keston shook his head slightly as he stared back at her and started limping away, and just before he decided to turn around he called back to Chloe over his shoulder. "Are you coming with me or not? Decisions, Decisions.." He clicked his tongue at the roof of his mouth as he made his way down the sidewalk, with something in him hoping that she was following. "We can even go back to the park if you'd like!"

Leila

Leila kept a smirk on her lips as she watched Ridley carefully and she would have announced that the whole careless thing was starting to get a little old. But instead, Leila thought of taking a different approach to the whole situation, and she was also curious to see how far she could push Ridley. She was used to testing Ridley's other half, but as shown in some situations you could only push Kasey so far before he was going to break. And Leila knew how to push Kasey's buttons, while she wasn't quite sure about Ridleys. Edging closer to Ridley she placed her free hand on the thin fabric that covered his chest.

"C'mon baby, don't do this to me." Her voice was anything but sad, and with a hint of torment she took another slow sip of vodka as she eyed Ridley mischeviously. As much as Leila loved what she couldn't have, which was part of her reason why Ridley was so appealing, she had a short attention span. So Leila was trying to get a reaction, something that she could work with, anything. But even as Ridley sqiurmed under her touch, as her hand was slowly going lower along his shirt, she hoped it had something to do with touching. The effect that Leila usually got from her joints wanted her to go into temptation, but she needed some co-operation. "Kasey doesn't matter, its not like your fucking him on the side."

fleur captives · 08-14-2006, 11:46 AM

Reagan
She located her jacket just as Meg opened her mouth to speak, and after retrieving it from the back of the of a nearby armchair, Reagan was ready to go. One cursory check in her pocket for keys, identification, and cell phone later and she was joined by Tristan who placed a chaste kiss on her cheek before reaching for her hand. Making their way toward the front door, she barely heard Meg's assertion that Andrew was up to no good whilst awaiting their arrival, something she didn't doubt in the least. Her mention seemed to bring to mind that he was Hook to their Peter, Wendy, and Tinkerbell which was more amusing than the two of them could have possibly known.

She made a mental note to remind him of previous conversations whenever his girlfriend and her boyfriend were not around to hear her call him Pegleg lest he decide to murder her on the spot for mentioning it in front of the two of them. Thinking of Andrew brought another, more recent conversation to mind and Reagan felt her knees give an involuntary shake at the memory of what she had confessed to him. She had kept putting it off, finding more and more reasons not to tell him, and trusted in her best friend's boyfriend's belief that it would come out of her mouth at the right moment. Glancing to Tristan as the three of them approached the car, she gave him an odd smile just in case he had witnessed her moment of discomfort, and shot an even wider grin toward her best friend. She decided not to give it another thought for the rest of the evening and let things come as they came. "Shotgun!" she announced, reaching for the front side passenger's door handle and opening the door, the grin on her still directed toward Meg. "I deserve it after listening to Islene. You know I do."

*Sarahrooie* · 08-14-2006, 12:07 PM

Max

Max raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing over his lips. Maya didn't exactly have to say what she was thinking, Max knew here well enough to know exactly what that trailed off sentence was referring to. "Yes Maya, I was sitting in parking lot masturbating. On Halloween. It seemed like the best way to spent my time." He attempted to stay that line as seriously as he could, but found that slightly difficult. It was maybe Maya's face, or maybe the drugs he had already consumed. Either that or it was the word masturbate. That was always a funny word.

"Will I share with you?" In reality Max had already answered that question. He always knew the answer to that question. But Maya didn't have to know that. And so Max frowned, in an attempt to feign deep thought, his hand on his chin, a position that always showed great contemplation. "Hm.. will I share with you?" Max pondered once again, before looking up at Maya. The look on her face let him know that she knew that there would be no way that he would turn her down. Max sighed. "Okay, just this once," he smirked.

And then she enquired towards his costume, he knew that his 'plague victim' idea would have some purpose. But actually as he opened his mouth to reply to her question he came up with a much better idea. "I've come as the Homecoming prince. Obviously."

**In Fair Verona** · 08-14-2006, 12:31 PM

Peyton

"Yay, beer." Peyton exclaimed with a lack of enthusiasm, barely raising her hands in the air while chanting under her breath, "b-e-e-r, beer!" and then letting her arms fall to the side. When Kasey returned with three drinks in hand, Peyton relieved him of one while Austin took the other and she stared at it reluctantly before taking a sip. Er, gulp. Men take gulps. Upon hearing her name, Peyton was relieved to have her suspicions confirmed that Kasey knew who she was all along, though really it would have been more embarassing for him than her if he hadn't. Though, upon realizing this, Peyton suddenly considered her proximity to Austin - Halloween aside, there were still some things a manly man such as herself wouldn't do and clinging to Austin Hobbes was probably one of them. Though, if anyone called her out on it, Peyton would simply attempt to spin the situation in her favor by proclaming that she was so secure in her masculinity that hanging out with a great friend like Austin didn't bother her at all. Yes, that was the way to play it. With that decided she glanced back at Kasey, nearly spitting out her drink (oh wait, that was on purpose...) upon hearing his words.

"Oh, yeah, well..." Peyton stammered, searching for a comeback. Except, she really couldn't, because that had been quite an embarassing position, more on her part than anybody else's. Except perhaps poor Ridley. "Maybe you should learn to... lock doors, Kasey." YEAH. That's right. LOCK DOORS. She said it. "Or just not keep them nearly as open as your women." Peyton added nonchalantly under her breath, folding her arms and taking another drink. "I mean, not that I don't mind open women." She added gruffly, "But if you can't handle them..." Now she really had no idea what she was saying, but rambling always seemed to work out fine for her in the end.

The Fifth Element · 08-14-2006, 01:10 PM

Micah

Micah was having a hard time understanding the course this conversation was about to take. Audrey had five minutes of his time to make some kind of a dent in the armor he'd constructed for himself as a result of getting treated so unkindly, and she wanted to talk about...going to a party? What? Hi hello it's me Audrey, I'm going to make you fall for me, then I'm going to flatten your heart with a mallet, then I'm going to keep calling you afterwards out of pseudo-concern, come over to make a grand gesture with nothing to back it up and oh guess what we should go to a party? Somewhere in the distance, faint though it was, Micah could hear strains of the Twilight Zone theme song, threatening to overtake his sanity.

Feeling the tension building in his neck, he tried to massage it away and focus on not getting irreconcilably angry with her. Even if she was the token villain in this tragic story they'd built with each other, she was making an effort to set things right. She just happened to be doing a champion job of botching it up at the moment. And what with every fiber of his body screaming to just take her in his arms and kiss her senseless, he found himself in a classic versus battle -- doing what he wanted to do vs. doing what he needed to do. He wanted to tell her to go to hell and leave him the fuck alone because she'd hurt him too damn much and he didn't want to ever have to go through what he was at present going through ever again...he needed her. He needed to be with her. It was frustrating as all get-out, but there was nothing to be done. His fate was sealed.

Still, battle or no, he stood by his irritation, perhaps even curiosity, at her prior offer and stepped away from the couch to invade her personal space. She smelled nice too. Shut up. "Why do you want me to come with you to a party, Audrey?"

Nolan

Was this psychotic little demon seed really attempting pleasantries with him after what she'd just done? Not only had she scarred him beyond all sense of reason, she'd then proceeded to call him a pansy and a girl and other such flowery insulting names because of his reaction. Now he knew she was possessed. She probably thought Nolan was glaring at her so intently because he didn't like the idea of making nice with a viprous she-devil, which was of course 99.9% true. However, the remaining measely 0.01%, he decided, would be used for squinting to see if she did indeed swear the mark of the beast on her forehead. If she just turned...toward the light...mmm. Migraine impending. Focusing not possible. Blind hatred...only option...

Whatever you want, name it. It's yours.

THAT got him good and incensed, never mind the meaningless apology preceeding. What did he want? He wanted to not be in so much debilitating pain. He wanted to enjoy mind-blowing sex every now and then without every encounter erupting into some catastrophic occurrence bound to give him a stroke. He wanted some more Tequila. Too many options, not enough self-control. So he snapped. "Wh...what do I want? I WANNA CHOP YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF!...FUCK!" Though highly explosive, it only served to make her more amused, and his energy was officially expended. He just didn't have anything else in him. He could still glare with the best of them, but it was more to ward off the encroaching headache he felt throbbing menancingly right between his eyes. Anna was too exhausting. That was just...it. The last straw, the final answer, whatever. He couldn't fight her and crazy wiles anymore. Not tonight anyway. She didn't make sense as a human being, and that was the way it was going to be.

Nolan walked over and snatched the tequila bottle out of her tiny hand then moved back to his side of the room, slumping into a sitting position against the wall and taking sip after languid sip. If he couldn't hack her to bits with a freshly sharpened machete, he could still settle for a good drink. And she'd better not try any of that 'kiss and make up' nonsense, or he'd...pinch her. He'd pinch her really hard. And he'd give her a menacing look too. Yes.

**In Fair Verona** · 08-14-2006, 01:22 PM

OOC: Team short posts!

Jericho

What he was expecting, what he had been used to, would have been something more along the lines of, "OH MY GOD, HOW DARE YOU!?" or "DIE, IMBECILE WITH LACK OF COORDINATION!". The estatic exclamation of his costume name followed by somewhat maniacal laughing would have been his third guess, naturally. "Uh, yeah, that would, that would be me. My costume." He replied awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. Well, at the very least he was somewhat thankful that she cared more about his costume and less about his little spill. That was, until she mentioned that there at least four other V dopplegangers running around, which only served to distract him as well from the task at hand. "No, really?" He repeated dejectedly. Damn you, Wachowski brothers! How many of those other Vs had heard about the other caped crusade before the major motion picture release, huh? HUH!?

"Well, a little special." Jericho reasoned, "But I think it might help if I just killed off the other four." He added nonchalantly, before arching an eyebrow and looking at her seriously. "That isn't too weird to hear from someone you just met, is it? If so, I was just kidding. Really." He nodded, holding up his gloved hands defensively. "But... man, I memorized his speech and everything." He groaned. Though, the duplicates may have been useful in accordance to the story's ending, so long as they all acknowledged that there could only one, true, V. Which was him, naturally.

Travis

“Oh, I’m just not a very good dancer.”

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I can't dance without arrows." He offered, wondering if she would even understand the reference, as it flew over the heads of most others who weren't video-game-savvy. The fact was, most of the attractive girls weren't. He raised both eyebrows in surprise when she explained that she knew who he was, particularly since he didn't know who she was and that was a crime against humanity. Or, at the very least, against his sexual drive. "So my reputation preceeds me." He said concisely, "Though it seems as though you've only heard the half of it." The boring half, the honor-student, pre-med potential, varsity tennis state champion half. He leaned in close, lowering his voice to a whisper against her ear, "Otherwise you probably would have been throwing yourself at me by now." He pulled away, replacing his smug smile with a charming one and cocking his head to the side. "So, basically you think I'm just a big nerd which is why you're really less than enthused to dance with me." He reasoned nonchalantly, "That will change."

Her little comment about his 'excitement' was enough to confirm the fact that this "Katie" was definitely full of surprises; hot one minute, cold the next. He still wondered at how he couldn't have known her, clearly she went to his school - unless his reputation was just that widespread, though even Travis wasn't so cocky as to really believe that. He figured that she must have been an underclassmen, but the question was just - just how much 'under' was she? "So, Katie, before I do anything that would get me charged with statutory, what grade are you in?" What? You could never tell with asian chicks.

FAIT_Accompli · 08-14-2006, 02:01 PM

Natalie

Johnny Cash. That’s who it was. The desire to defend her presumed ignorance about the music never came, though she couldn’t quite claim the same apathy towards the little moniker he had selected for her. Irritation temporarily interrupted her tranquil high, but it was fleeting, and the effects of the drug she had taken triumphed over any negative feelings she might have been nursing. Silently, she thanked Leila for her earlier intervention, as the Oxyc-whateveritwas was certainly hitting the spot. For a few moments, she allowed her eyes to roll back behind her eyelids. He spoke up again, and his words blended curiously with the music that came from inside his car. The voice, now that it was recognized, started reminding her of her father as the little exposure she had to Mr. Cash came mostly thanks to his appreciation for the tragic country star. Such a memory might have made her sad earlier, and although she had asked Leila to make all the memories go away, she couldn’t condemn her for coming through only half-way. She was no longer burdened by the sadness from earlier that now seemed foreign to her.

“It sounds so sad.” But sad music wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, and although the original version of the song might have elicited the swaying she performed in time to the subdued guitar more appropriately, she felt overcome by the music nevertheless. Feeling unknown and you’re all alone, flesh and bone by the telephone, lift up the receiver, I’ll make you a believer. And oh, Mr. Cash, how Natalie wanted to believe in that moment. To believe in what, she had no idea, but to believe in something. Something bigger than her and the shitty world she was determined to forget about for a couple of hours. “I would like to.” She confessed, her voice sounding distance in her ear as she turned to glance back at Thatcher. “Who did the original?”

Lauren

Lauren refrained from assuring him that he was only bad luck to her if he decided to answer any of his chain mail and forward it on to her, which meant she was relatively safe in his company as she could trust him not to contribute to her little … er, problem. But he had already started on his own personal kryptonite, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what, or rather, who he was talking about. Lauren smiled at Jeremy sympathetically, knowing there was very little in the way of advice she could offer when she didn’t exactly have the best experience with “the unattainable” herself. Still, there was something in the way he said Girls that aren’t nearly as great once you get to know them that had her watching him with keen interest. Had he finally come around to seeing that the pretty ones often put so much effort into beautifying their outsides, that they neglected their inner character?

Apparently not.

“I’m not sure if wanting something you know isn’t necessarily something that’s good for you makes you a romantic …” She paused thoughtfully, reconsidering it. “Hah. No, I guess that does make you a romantic. Or an incurable sentimentalist.” The hard rocker, he never had a chance you know, incurable romantics never do … she thought idly to herself, before following Jeremy inside the house and stepping aside before Caroline could careen into her on her way to the kitchen where Lauren assumed she was going to start separating her candy. “Hey! Remember! Someone has to check the candy before you can eat it!” The false precaution was more a scapegoat to get the little girl dressed and ready for bed, and possibly to open a window of opportunity for them to steal more candy.

fleur captives · 08-14-2006, 02:24 PM

Sadie
Using the napkins he had handed her, she went to work cleaning the soft drink that had spilled all over her costume, less concerned about actual damage as she was with the cold feeling that was sliding over her legs. It didn't even occur to her that her reaction might have been not only unexpected, but enough to stun him into silence, and she was surprised when he voiced his dismay at having not been the only V in Weston tonight. Sadie might have spent most of the film too high to focus on the screen, but leaving the theatre, she had gotten the feeling that he was going to become a popular figure in culture. To her surprise, or lack thereof, her prediction had come true and was being proven at that very moment by the person that she was talking to.

"So I exaggerated. I've only seen three so far," she told him with a playful grin. Three might have been a lesser number than four but Sadie figured she didn't have to inform him of how many vampires, witches, and angels she had seen that evening. He should be grateful there were but a handful of doppelgangers running amuck when there were could have been enough persons wearing the same costume to populate all of Boston and perhaps even New York. Then again, recalling a certain scene in which the costume he wore was donned by multiple people, she figured he could use that fact to his advantage if he ever ran into one of his compatriots in V. "That's one less body you would have to hide unless, you know, you use them to your advantage."

MissAndieWitter · 08-14-2006, 02:42 PM

OOC: Uhm. So I have both Lilliana and Peter open and nothing to do with them.

fleur captives · 08-14-2006, 02:52 PM

I feel like I should note that Scarlet picked out the song between my icon and my signature.

Thatcher
Unaware that the girl seated beside him was thinking depressing thoughts of her own, he awaited the next line of the song before opening his mouth to answer her, debating with some seriousness in his mind whether or not he should come off his moral high horse and join her. Thatcher, though slightly envious of the peaceful look on her face, couldn't reconcile the thought of using drugs to avoid his problems. Nothing would be different when he came back down from the high, and on occasion, the situation might be even worse for it. No, he would leave that particular coping mechanism to his mother, to Leila Morgan, and to the girl sitting next to him and settle for being an unbearable prick from time to time; it hadn't failed him yet, not like his mother had or his aunt and uncle. Take second best, put me to the test. Things on your chest you need to confess; I will deliver, you know I'm a forgiver.

"Depeche Mode. British band. Their front man that was legally dead for six minutes after overdosing on heroin," he had thrown in that last bit of information in an attempt to appeal to the rational side of her whose existence she didn't doubt, but judging by the serene expression on her face, Thatcher knew he was too late to make much of an impact on her and was unsure why he cared so much He listened to the song, remembering how his uncle Martin had been the one to introduce him to what he called the "classics" as a child, and went silent on account of the sudden sadness that had filled him as he realized how he missed being apart of a family. Grace was his mother, yes, but outside of inquiring whether or not he could get his hands on an eightball, she took no interest in what he did.

Reach out and touch faith. "It is sad," he agreed in a voice so small he would be surprised if she heard him.

xKatx · 08-14-2006, 03:26 PM

Maya

I almost wanted to roll my eyes at him when he started playing as though he weren't going to share with me, but I refrained, not wanting to push my luck. I was one of his best customers - using the term very loosely - and I knew that even with our friendship, I would not be denied. Nevertheless, I waited patiently, allowing him to briefly play the cat and mouse game until he finally relented and held out his joint to me. I reached out for it, taking a couple quick drags before returning it to him. "I don't think that'll fly." I said through a strained voice, as I tried to hold the smoke in my lungs for as long as I could whilst I spoke to him.

"Don't you get some kind of crown, or even a sash, with Homecoming Prince?" I asked him once I had let out my last breath of 'toxic' air. I proceeded to pull down on my tshirt as much as I could, feeling cool air whip at the small of my back. I can't help it if shit rolls up like that. "I mean, if you were really going for that, you could've at least brought a sword or something. Princes get swords right? And then you'd have an excuse to poke people with it for the whole night... except me." I added pointedly. No one's anything was going to be poking me unless I specifically asked for it. And as much as I loved Max, I just wasn't interested. If I were, it'd be this weird, incestous Flowers in the Attic scenario that even thinking about now led me to believe I was getting higher by the second. Awesome.

tableofhearts · 08-14-2006, 03:53 PM

Kaede
Kaede hadn’t realised how funny Travis was until this moments. She chuckled at his gaming reference, because she actually remembered the day Travis played DDR with her and she had whipped his bottom. “I never saw you as someone was into DDR.” Kaede was feeling a little more comfortable and she found herself feeling more comfortable in his arms, Seeing she was now certain he didn’t know who she was.

“Maybe it’s your other reputation that stops me from jumping all over you.” She arched an eyebrow, as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I mean from what I have heard, you don’t have that much to offer.” Kaede teased, she really knew nothing and had heard nothing. “So, I’ll need a lot more convincing.”

The subject soon changed to her year level at high school. “What exactly were you planning to do that would be considered illegal if it involved a fifteen year old?” Kaede laughed. “I’m actually a Junior and seventeen.” She lied, she was a senior and had Travis paid more attention to her in the past he would have realised that.

*Sarahrooie* · 08-14-2006, 03:58 PM

Hmm, I see another recruit for Team Short Posts. In my defense, it is midnight here.

Max

Handing over the joint to Maya made him feel like a good person. Because he did always feel slightly selfish as he did his best to hoard his drugs, refusing the part with them for anything but money. Unless you were Maya. Max could never turn down Maya. Mainly because that's what friends were for, right? Smoking together was a top social event in Max's book, which possibly explained why he didn't have that many friends.

"I left my crown at home," Max answered quickly, as Maya handed back the joint. (which he now mentally referred to with the definite object instead of as 'his joint'.) "I didn't want it to get dirty. Us princes save our crowns for important events like ... " Max trailed off, mainly because he was thinking about the sword that Maya had decided that he needed to have. And that when she said poke, she didn't mean it in the well ... poking sort of way. She meant it in the other way, which took Max's slightly addled brain a few minutes to process. When he finally did he cracked a smile. "I have my honor! I'm royalty," he exclaimed, in mock shock. "I can't just go around poking people!"