welcome to Eldritch Academy
In a world of myths and mysteries, the pinnacle of the magical academies exists. Eldritch Academy offers education to all ages and species but specializes in the study and training of one's innate mystical capabilities, often called Eldritch Energies, Powers, or Unknowns, but more formally known as their Talent. However, tensions run high with the nations only holding a fragile peace as the Talents that rival the epitomes of technology change the balance of power.
With the more recent uprising of evil Shades and introduction of combat-oriented programs into Talent-focused schools, nations grow more aggressive towards one another. The demand for resources grows, and skirmishes at the border of Arka and Mistere become more frequent. Monsters run into the nations from the Wildes, terrorizing villages and cities. The need for trained or in-training Hunters and Guardians has never been more urgent.
Of Myths and Mysteries
eldritch academy The Tea Team
Blueprint is a premade Proboards v5 theme designed and built by punki of Adoxography and Pixel Perfect. Eldritch Academy is the work of the mind(s) of The Tea Team. All characters and content are copyright their creators, and may not be replicated without their creators' permission. All images belong to their original owners.
updates
FEBRUARY 20, 2019
Community Update 2.5 is out! We would like to introduce you to Student Dorm Assistants, a newly organized staff list, and best of all, an updated Academy Guide!
DATE HERE
Community Update #2 is out! We bring you a Fame/Infamy system, an organized Event/PvP system, a new Academy Guide featuring new roles and colorgroups to replace our dorm colors, along with monsters, quests, teams, shards, and more!
Eun Ha Park
Traveler
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Frozen Voice
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Succubus/Okami
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Nano
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Jan 20, 2019 20:11:50 GMT -6
Post by Eun Ha Park on Jan 20, 2019 20:11:50 GMT -6
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[attr=class,punkisavelight] [attr=class,punkisavelightimage] [attr=class,punkisavelightlyrics] [attr=class,punkisavelighttopslant] lets pretend the words[break] we never said hurt us[attr=class,punkisavelightbottomslant] [attr=class,punkisavelightseparator]
boopity
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I'm sorry.[break][break]
There's nothing left to say (nothing left to regret, it's been four months since the incident), there is nothing left to do. There is nothing but silence (the mellow air, stagnant and dry; she feels like she's going to suffocate on it) save for the snow that crunches underneath the soles of her boots. Past the near rusted metal gates of an otherwise well kept graveyard laid numerous tomes and plaques that were scattered about in a relatively organized manner. By no means was there a cathedral or a church too far from the fields, the bodies - the people - resting beneath and within the earth (they had returned; but returned to where is a question she still ponders and wants an answer to). Their bodies, their memories, their voice, their identity, and their memories have been buried and laid to rest, never to be brought back no matter the situation; no matter the circumstances dire as they may be. Perhaps she should have left this place at peace - leave him in peace - after all; she hadn't a reason (the right) to tread across this sacred ground. [break][break]
Yet she has the gall to walk across the ground (the sins weigh heavy on her shoulders, it's an insult to the lingering spirits who wish for nothing but rest) with her shoes crunching agains the snow. Her breath forms a small puff of crystallized air before her before she snuggly tucks her chin back into the wool scarf. It was plush, it maintained the heat fairly well - made of something similar to baby blankets, some sort of plush yarn - that's soft, strawberry scent put her to ease (a pause on her mind because the thoughts were beginning to destroy her). Deep blue eyes (contacts to hide her face, no one is to see into her soul again) narrow as she begins to follow the rows and rows of tombstones. Deeper into the gravesite she went, and she could hear the silent screams of those whom were passing. A child who lost a mother, a parent who lost a child, a sibling losing another, the death of a friend - they all had something in common (pure of heart, visited for the sake of crying to entertain questions like "why" and "what if"). It doesn't matter how much she tries to defend herself (she can't be anything other than evil; black ink to her ugly core) and thus it's easier off not to say a word. [break][break]
A visit to his grave won't hurt her (her heart's dying, she doesn't know if the hurtful pounding in her chest means she's alive or already dying), and so she presses on until she arrives as a new grave (fresh in print, a name has and date has been sprawled across neatly in a bright red font). There is a moment of silence as she silently gazes upon it, only to crouch down from the side to brush excess snow that might have stuck to the name plate. The name was difficult to read, blurred out and unsaturated by the snow itself. Brush away the frosted rain and the name was clear as day, easily readable-- So why is it that it was still blurry? [break][break]
A bead trickles down the side of her face, from the corner of her eyes to her chin. The woman stays kneeled there, appearing to be in a trance or daze of sorts, before she peels off one of her gloves to have her finger gently dap upon the now freezing trail left by her. Perhaps it was sweat, from running up to the grave as quickly as her feet could have taken her. It had to be when she was running and nearly slipped on the ice on her way here (a hopeless contradiction). [break][break]
Another bead trickles down her face; then another, another, and another following suit. The warm droplets fall from the tip of her chin and onto the ground, barely melting the few flakes and making their indent before freezing up another layer over them. Perhaps she had run too much, perhaps she was in too much--[break][break]
She can't even recognize her own tears as she kneels in front of his grave. [break][break]
The grave reading RYAN ARCKEN.
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Ryan Arcken
Faculty
GRADE •
C- (70)
VITALITY •
2
STRENGTH •
2
SPEED •
3
RESILIENCE •
2
STAMINA •
3
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Bloodlust
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Fallen Angel
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Liekos
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Jan 20, 2019 21:24:22 GMT -6
Post by Ryan Arcken on Jan 20, 2019 21:24:22 GMT -6
[attr="class","trying"] [attr="class","we1"] [attr="class","lost1"]Who am I? [attr="class","rise"] [attr="class","dying1"] [attr="class","mouths1"]Fallen from grace in more within more than one measure.
A beaten soul, tried and true.
As broken as the man that he had once been, yet one would dare say that he - within his current state and mentality - had been much farther gone, and much worse, in comparison to the prior stature that he had been kept within, regardless of whether or not he had been legitimately capable of remembering such matters as of late. His steps had proven to be light, swift, and soft while he trekked through the entry bars amidst the fields of the site, altogether; a vague symphony of a gentle, repetitive pitter patter that may as well have been almost symbolic in lieu of the heart that he possessed, and the heart that very well should have not held the rhythm that it held while he - in the flesh - walked upon the very earth for yet another time. Breathing. Reactive. Alive. Alive, and dwelling within the storm that had been his thoughts and mind from the moment that he had found himself conscious once more. Alive, and very much frustrated with where he had been within his life at that very moment in time.
Alive, and fully knowing of that fact while he took care to stick to his own prescription.
Although his homecoming had been rather odd and difficult to rectify legally within the beginning, he - with the help of few other acquaintances and ‘friends’, as they had introduced themselves as upon vague recognition of him - had managed to undo whatever discrepancies that had surfaced within the midst of his resurrection. Legality, he had soon discovered, was a complex matter of those that shared his specimen by sole virtue of being declared deceased, yet finding themselves upon the earth once more with breath and thought, alike. Documents were required to be reorganized; mentalities and physicalities assessed, reassessed, and reassessed again following resurrection- and it had been through these aforementioned assessments that he - similar to many others who had ‘descended from grace’ - had been given recommendations. Prescriptions. ...Alternatives to deal with the negativity and his own; a means of consumption in attempt to regulate his demeanor, and a means of consumption that he had taken following his entry upon the grounds itself.
The action in itself had become routine, yet every time that he took care to follow through with it, he had always felt a sense of familiarity and nostalgia, as if he had done it long ago. ...It was a sense of nostalgia that he could have very well done without.
The same could have been applied in regards to his constant ventures to the sacred grounds displayed before him. Merely setting foot upon the area felt as if he had visited even prior to procuring the routine of visitation, though each and every time that he had taken care to drive by in between work and leisure - however faint the latter may have been, as a result of the constant battle that he had been locked within with his own mind and seemingly unreasonable, yet instinctive emotions - he concluded the feeling of dread and guilt, overall, to be prominent. For what reason, he had been unable to properly discover, though one thing had remained certain, to him.
He hated the feeling.
He hated it, yet he had no choice to continue dwelling within said feeling until his inevitable departure or remembrance. He knew that it would end with one or the other, and - as a result of his own wishes to remain within the realm of the living that time around - he remained vigilante within his attempts of the latter. Regardless of what he may have thought within his initial carnation, he declared days following his ability to draw breath once more, he would give the entirety of his lost soul to recover what he could in hopes of starting anew.
No matter the pain along the way.
No matter the discomfort along the way.
...No matter the combination of the given attributes, and no matter the additional descriptions of negativity that could have been byproducts of his choices.
She had been knelt upon the very destination that he sought out for time and time again, and - much to his disdain - he felt a collection of differing emotions upon seeing her, despite having never seen her before. ...In contrast to the others, however, this one in particular seemed to spark numerous feelings - both good and bad, alike - and this fact in itself proved unsettling. Stride ceasing briefly, he found himself still within his movements while gazing upon her; taking note of most things that she could have displayed within those short moments prior to his official arrival. Her posture, reserved and shielded. The outline of her form, a light blue.
Light blue.
Grief.
For sake of ensuring that he had not ventured towards the wrong site, he gazed upon the neighboring plaques and stones; crimson voids shifting between the names prior to internally and silently confirming that he had, in fact, come to the correct location. Grief. Grief of an individual. A feeling that one would likely feel within the face of mass tragedy, or within the midst of one that had found a tragedy of his or her own.
’...So she knew me, too.’
The conclusion was drawn swiftly, yet he still found little more than the surging emotions as evidence of such, and had been thinking upon pure instinct and vague contexts- much like how he had done for a while, by then. From afar, he continued to gaze upon her for a few moments, though eventually, he finally took care to make a slow approach towards her. Her tears mattered little to her, once he came close enough to notice them; nor did her anguish, sensitivity, or whatever else she may have been experiencing as of that moment. He simply had one question as his brief walk stopped once more, this time by her flank, as his voice rang out to her.
”...What’re you doing here? ulla [newclass=.we1]background-image:url(https://i.imgur.com/wOdQYsu.jpg?1);height:380px;width:400px;padding-top:120px;overflow:hidden;[/newclass][newclass=.avatar]background-color:#363636;width:50%;padding:10px;opacity:.9;transition:1s;border:#666 1px solid;padding-top:30px;padding-bottom:30px;transition-delay:2.5s;[/newclass][newclass=.lost1]font-size:12px;font-family:Alegreya Sans SC;color:#fff;letter-spacing:2px;padding:10px;background-color:#363636;opacity:.9;border:#666 1px solid;width:50%;transition:1s;margin-top:10px;margin-bottom:10px;transition-delay:2.5s;[/newclass][newclass=.trying:hover .lost1]opacity:0;transition:1s;[/newclass][newclass=.trying:hover .avatar]opacity:0;transition:1s;[/newclass][newclass=.rise]padding-top:25px;height:475px;width:400px;background-color:#272727;opacity:.8;margin-top:200px;transition:2s;transition-delay:1s;[/newclass][newclass=.trying:hover .rise]margin-top:-360px;transition:1.5s;transition-delay:1s;[/newclass][newclass=.dying1]width:80%;padding:10px;background-color:#1a1a1a;border:#444 1px solid;opacity:0;transition:1s;[/newclass][newclass=.mouths1]color:#eee;font-size:10px;text-align:justify;height:370px;overflow:auto;padding:5px;[/newclass][newclass=.lying1]width:80%;padding:3px;background-color:#1a1a1a;color:#777;font-size:10px;text-align:left;border:#444 1px solid;margin-top:10px;padding-left:10px;padding-right:10px;opacity:0;transition:1s;[/newclass][newclass=.trying:hover .dying1]opacity:1;transition:1s;transition-delay:2.5s;[/newclass][newclass=.trying:hover .lying1]opacity:1;transition:1s;transition-delay:2.5s;[/newclass][newclass=.trying ::-webkit-scrollbar]width:7px;[/newclass][newclass=.trying ::-webkit-scrollbar-track-piece]background:#444;border-left:3px solid #1a1a1a;border-right:3px solid #1a1a1a;[/newclass][newclass=.trying ::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background:#000;border:#444 1px solid;[/newclass][newclass=.dying1 b]color:#508ACC[/newclass][googlefont=Alegreya Sans SC] |
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Eun Ha Park
Traveler
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Frozen Voice
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Succubus/Okami
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Nano
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Jan 20, 2019 22:12:37 GMT -6
Post by Eun Ha Park on Jan 20, 2019 22:12:37 GMT -6
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[attr=class,punkisavelight] [attr=class,punkisavelightimage] [attr=class,punkisavelightlyrics] [attr=class,punkisavelighttopslant] lets pretend the words[break] we never said hurt us[attr=class,punkisavelightbottomslant] [attr=class,punkisavelightseparator]
badabingbadaboom
[attr=class,punkisavelighttext]
The silence was deafening. [break][break]
Yet she dared not to make a sound. She knows that if she makes a sound, it'll be over. The weight on her back - pressing against her shoulders, threatening to crush her under the force - will push down in one fell swoop. She'll be buried, she will be ground to whatever dust she might have wished to be in the wind in the snap of a finger. She couldn't make a sound, she knows that she shouldn't, even with the tears streaming down her cheeks as her other gloved hand presses up against her eyes. The warm tears fell cold as it hit the frigid, winter air; her attempts to ward them off was futile. Whatever warmth that could have comforted her so quickly turned to something cold, freezing (a sad reminder of what she once was; alive and warm), empty. Or perhaps it was grief, anguish? She didn't have a right to those feelings; the killer should never feel that way, because their actions lead to the end result (she can't even wish him to be at peace; she knows he won't hear her anyways). [break][break]
He was gone. Gone where? She didn't know. She so badly wanted to know where he was, what he was doing, what he was thinking (pill bottle in hand, slumped back into his chair as she was crying with words that couldn't be heard). Why? Why? It doesn't matter how many times she asks this anymore, because the answer will always be the same. If not her thoughts haunting her (destroying what little mind she had left) then it be the blissful silence to sweep her away (that too, was deadly. She never realized until the people around her left, never looking back to see an outstretched hand). [break][break]
He's gone. [break][break]
She knows that he is, so what is heat welling up within her? No, he couldn't have been dead. He could have still been in the hospital; he wasn't going to die. Wisping around like the fleeting ghost and soul of a woman she was, blue eyes on his person and watching over him hadn't led to this. He had only taken his medication, taken a rest and had gone to the hospital. He didn't try to hurt himself, she didn't try to stop living-- he didn't try to die. What does she tell herself, after watching his very soul be carried off? How does she justify it to herself? How does she talk to herself, knowing that she'll only speak the words of an idealistic fool (he's no longer here, she's no longer denying). [break][break]
So then what had she been feeling? In these four months since his passing, she knows that she has moved on from the denial (lies, a part of her refuses to believe that he left all the same she had, and yet why was she the one who returned?) and perhaps onto anger. Anger? Anger at herself, anger at others-- The frustration that poured within her at the death of a friend. Her friend. A man who was her friend-- A man she assumed whom hated her to the core even in her last moments. To be frank, she didn't know what or how to feel with the bottled up tension (the frustration; she couldn't do anything when she was floating right there). What could have gone differently? What could she have done? She can't answer these, and there's no point even if she asked (the hypocrite in her is clawing for an answer, caring not for the tears and metaphorical blood she'd have to shed) because if she had known, then he wouldn't have died in the first place. She wouldn't be here, mourning nor grieving. She wouldn't be here, belittling herself with every second she stayed kneeling there. She wouldn't be--[break][break]
Footsteps. [break][break]
They're behind her, she knows. Or perhaps from the side? The front, somewhere. They approached her (she shouldn't flatter herself; they were more likely the cousins or the other family and friends of this person. She already feels like she might insult them by her presence if they laid eyes on her) but said nothing. There was another bout of silence before words, the crunching o the snow in between either from her own boots or their's-- It didn't matter. The young woman has her gloved hand gently press up against her eyes, pushing down the slightly pinkish and puffed eyelids from the crying while also taking a moment and deep breath. She's about to get up, to get away from the grave with the intention to leave and naught return until she was certain that she was alone. Yet there said nothing; no voice nor a greeting. It was silence; it was deafening silence. From her, that is. [break][break]
A voice rung out, low in tone. Chipper wasn't something she'd describe it as, but it resonated with her. The tone was foreign, one she had never come across before. It wasn't something that held curiosity, in spite of the words, nor did they hold malice. No soft greeting, no unique chime. Yet there was something so familiar about it - something that pricked at her mind (she doesn't realize that this "mind" is her heart, preparing itself for what was to come). She pauses. If not to compose herself, it was to analyze the voice. It was so familiar, so.. So anticipated. Like she were waiting to hear it again, for a long, long time. [break][break]
Azure orbs glance upwards to finally check, lips forcefully curled into a weak smile while her other hand gently tilted up the knitted beanie resting on her head. Yet that motion comes to a sudden stop as his features reflect off her eyes. His figure, height, physique in general was familiar. It was more than familiar. [break][break]
It was of the body of the man who should have been buried at her feet. [break][break]
She knows that she was asked a question. She knows it's rude not to answer, yet the man whom should have been dead was there. He was living, breathing, reacting, thinking, talking-- He was alive.[break][break]
"You're--.. Y-You're alive.." Her lips part only to mumble softly, the verbal cue as to ensure she weren't dreaming. Yet it was weak, it was soft, like she hadn't used it in a long, long while. This wasn't a crude prank, this wasn't one of her own dreams; he was there. He was standing in front of her (she doesn't yet know that she knows nothing of this man here, or even less than what she knew of the man before). The tears had ceased, yet the expression of subtle shock was eminent. He was staring down at her and-- [break][break]
He was alive.
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Ryan Arcken
Faculty
GRADE •
C- (70)
VITALITY •
2
STRENGTH •
2
SPEED •
3
RESILIENCE •
2
STAMINA •
3
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Bloodlust
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Fallen Angel
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Liekos
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Jan 20, 2019 23:48:46 GMT -6
Post by Ryan Arcken on Jan 20, 2019 23:48:46 GMT -6
[attr="class","trying"] [attr="class","we1"] [attr="class","lost1"]Who am I? [attr="class","rise"] [attr="class","dying1"] [attr="class","mouths1"]That confirmation served as more than enough evidence in regards to his assumptions.
Her expression. Her stammer. The tears upon her face, as well as that very same posture that she had taken upon his grave - or, what he had been told was his grave, at the very least - had all been telltale signs, regardless of the fact that he truthfully had no other way to tell truth from falsity, and right from wrong, and had only been guided thus far by instinct and intuition alone, with little aid from those few that he had become reacquainted with throughout his time upon the lands once more. Crimson voids of his narrowed soon after taking into the aforementioned factors into account; casting themselves upon her expression, and allowing it to settle within his mind before he quirked his lip within a faint degree. His arms crossed during his analysis. ”...So you did know me…” he murmured under his breath; his tone continuously neutral, though quipped with a borderline sound of annoyance that merely seemed to be a default to his being. The wings that he bore upon his back fluttered softly and slightly within his midst; their deepened feathers of ebony swaying gently within the air with the motions prior to settling soon afterwards in accordance to their eventual cease in movement. ”...And your reply doesn’t answer my question…”
For a short while, he trailed off into a silence that had been as dead as he should have been; arms lingering within their crossed hold, and his wings gradually beginning to curl the faintest bit more around his form within an absentminded matter. All the while, the halo above his head continuously shone within its dimmed radiance a short distance above his head; its glow constant within its seemingly dark light, though proving to waver in due time as his gaze settled upon her for extensive durations. Within an instinctive manner, he what he felt seemed to amplify within his mind and body; favoring the grief that he himself had been feeling, as well, in addition to the vaguely riddled guilt, and - as a result of these sensations - subtle annoyance, by sole virtue of knowing naught of the reason, aside from the fact that, in some way, shape, or form, he resonated with this girl for whatever reason, and that she had undoubtedly been the cause for these rampant emotions of his, in particular. Given that a reasonable while had passed, his lips would have curled into a light, pensive scowl from the agitation gnawing at him within that particular span of time- and his state of mind could have been taken into account and perceived into account in the event that one had been keen with aura research and colors, as that very same halo had begun to transition from its default dimness into a duality of hues that constantly, yet gradually transitioned to and fro between violet and red; a crossroad between instinctive sadness, as well as vague annoyance and frustration from this very same sorrow.
”...You knew me, then… There’s no getting around that…” he mused lowly, briefly shifting his attention towards the gravestone - his gravestone - and glaring upon it for several moments. His eyes narrowed ever more before shifting back to her, altogether. ”Who are you…? Who were you to me?” ulla [newclass=.we1]background-image:url(https://i.imgur.com/wOdQYsu.jpg?1);height:380px;width:400px;padding-top:120px;overflow:hidden;[/newclass][newclass=.avatar]background-color:#363636;width:50%;padding:10px;opacity:.9;transition:1s;border:#666 1px solid;padding-top:30px;padding-bottom:30px;transition-delay:2.5s;[/newclass][newclass=.lost1]font-size:12px;font-family:Alegreya Sans SC;color:#fff;letter-spacing:2px;padding:10px;background-color:#363636;opacity:.9;border:#666 1px solid;width:50%;transition:1s;margin-top:10px;margin-bottom:10px;transition-delay:2.5s;[/newclass][newclass=.trying:hover .lost1]opacity:0;transition:1s;[/newclass][newclass=.trying:hover .avatar]opacity:0;transition:1s;[/newclass][newclass=.rise]padding-top:25px;height:475px;width:400px;background-color:#272727;opacity:.8;margin-top:200px;transition:2s;transition-delay:1s;[/newclass][newclass=.trying:hover .rise]margin-top:-360px;transition:1.5s;transition-delay:1s;[/newclass][newclass=.dying1]width:80%;padding:10px;background-color:#1a1a1a;border:#444 1px solid;opacity:0;transition:1s;[/newclass][newclass=.mouths1]color:#eee;font-size:10px;text-align:justify;height:370px;overflow:auto;padding:5px;[/newclass][newclass=.lying1]width:80%;padding:3px;background-color:#1a1a1a;color:#777;font-size:10px;text-align:left;border:#444 1px solid;margin-top:10px;padding-left:10px;padding-right:10px;opacity:0;transition:1s;[/newclass][newclass=.trying:hover .dying1]opacity:1;transition:1s;transition-delay:2.5s;[/newclass][newclass=.trying:hover .lying1]opacity:1;transition:1s;transition-delay:2.5s;[/newclass][newclass=.trying ::-webkit-scrollbar]width:7px;[/newclass][newclass=.trying ::-webkit-scrollbar-track-piece]background:#444;border-left:3px solid #1a1a1a;border-right:3px solid #1a1a1a;[/newclass][newclass=.trying ::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background:#000;border:#444 1px solid;[/newclass][newclass=.dying1 b]color:#508ACC[/newclass][googlefont=Alegreya Sans SC] |
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Eun Ha Park
Traveler
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Frozen Voice
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Succubus/Okami
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Nano
|
|
Jan 21, 2019 0:34:00 GMT -6
Post by Eun Ha Park on Jan 21, 2019 0:34:00 GMT -6
[nospaces] [newclass=".punkisavelighttags"]display: inline-block; float: left; margin-left: -200px; margin-top: 145px; width: 120px; height: 30px; background: #ffffff; transition: 0.5s; text-align: right; font-family: 'Niramit'; font-size: 11px; color: #989EB3; text-transform: uppercase; line-height: 30px;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelighttags a"]font-size: inherit !important; font-family: inherit !important; transition: 0.3s;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelighttags a:hover"]color: #8D92A6 !important;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelighttags div"]width: 80px; height: 30px; float: right; background: linear-gradient(to right,#ffffff,transparent); margin-right: -80px; margin-left: -50px;[/newclass]
[attr=class,punkisavelight] [attr=class,punkisavelightimage] [attr=class,punkisavelightlyrics] [attr=class,punkisavelighttopslant] lets pretend the words[break] we never said hurt us[attr=class,punkisavelightbottomslant] [attr=class,punkisavelightseparator]
o shit he ain't dead
[attr=class,punkisavelighttext]
Wolf-like ears twitched at his voice-- his voice.[break][break]
It had only been four months; barely half and year and yet his voice no matter how dulled (how empty, dead on the inside) it may have been, was little more than a dream in the world she lived in. Him standing in front of her was reality; if she reached her hand out to him, she wouldn't phase through. If she were to speak to him now, he'd be able to hear her. If she were to listen, she'd be able to hear everything. There were many questions she's wanted to ask, boggled up in her mind to crowd, shove, and bumble all the same. Yet her words were crowding too much, struggling to come out in their jumble and resulted in nothing being said at all (a lump in her throat; but does she feel joy, or anger?). It was difficult, seeing him stand in front of her. In the flesh-- She still couldn't believe her eyes. Why now? Why now, after four months? She had thought him to be dead as she climbed through those five stages of guilt, and here she was now-- [break][break]
Plummeting back to the first at such an alarming rate. [break][break]
Granted, it was her mind tricking her (a sweet illusion, where her mind is control in keeping her heart in control) into thinking that everything was alright. She was composed, the tears were wiped away after being put on hold to save face. The young woman maintains her gaze up to him (no matter how much it hurt, needles pricking at her heart, veins and arteries in all different directions) as her foot shifts to the side, pushing herself to stand up properly and give him that eye contact. From this closer view, she could see his features in a significantly clearer light. But as she looked closer, amidst the differences and drastic changes in appearance, there were the few similarities. The differences were large, but the resemblance was still uncanny -- She tells herself, but she's unsure whether or not this is a genuine analysis or another, foolish attempt to convince herself 'he isn't dead'. [break][break]
Shut off your emotions, so you don't have to deal with feeling anything. That was her solution to the problem at hand, and that's exactly what she had been trying to do. But the pricking didn't stop; every moment that passed with their eye contact made her feel uneasy. This should have felt right. This should have felt so right. This should have been when he recognized her-- He certainly must have, yes? That's why he approached her. Perhaps Ryan did recognize her and called her out, or this was all in her head; she fell asleep in front of his grave and is now living through a fantastical dream where she can actually see and speak to him. Maybe this was another person entirely, and she was projecting her delusions and denial to manifest onto the person before her. [break][break]
If it were the former two, she wishes that this wouldn't end. [break][break]
For the first time in four months, the woman's lips curl into a small, weak, yet still very genuine and nearly relieved smile whilst maintaining her gaze. ".. R-Right.. Sorry~" She starts off, voice still soft from the lack of speech she's done for the past long while. Now, it would have been best to take things slowly, explain herself. Explain why she did what she did, ask why he did what he did. Continue with that give and take relationship they had; where she could confide with him as he did her. It would be like old days. [break][break]
Just like the old days. [break][break]
Thump.[break][break]
That was the sound of her heart being pricked. That was the sound of her heart gradually oozing out, wriggling in pain as she so desperately maintained her composure. Everything would be alright, she thought to herself. Everything will be perfectly fine. She was strong, she could handle whatever was thrown at her (then the dreaded question was uttered, and she never broke and crumbled sooner). "... Huh?" Was all she could let out with the impending shock intended to smack her full force. The woman points to herself, her smile was frozen (how she coped, assume he's joking and laugh it off) as her hand seemed to tremble the slightest bit from the pent up emotions, begging to be released. "You.. You don't remember me?" No, that couldn't be. It coudln't have been--[break][break]
Maybe it was better this way. [break][break]
Swallow your sadness. Swallow the pain, the grief, the sting and the cracks. Swallow it down, put on the smirk and shrug your shoulders. With the flick of her wrist she pulls out her phone, tapping down letters in a note with the intention to shove it in his face to have him read (as quickly as she can; her clammy hands and trembling fingers are only so accurate). [break][break]
'I'm a friend of yours, that you probably hate.'
[attr=class,punkisavelightsecondarylyrics] [attr=class,punkisavelighttopslant] hug me until the pain goes away [attr=class,punkisavelightcredit]template by punki[googlefont=Niramit:400,400i,700][googlefont=Dosis:300] [newclass=".punkisavelight"]background: #ffffff; width: 450px; margin: auto; border-right: 40px solid #DBDCE6;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelightimage"]background: url('https://i.imgur.com/rvYMr1x.jpg'); height: 200px; background-position: center; background-size: cover; overflow: hidden;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelightlyrics"]height: 40px; padding: 15px 0; text-align: center; background: #A3A9C0; font-family: 'Dosis'; color: #ffffff; text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 20px; line-height: 20px; font-weight: 300; letter-spacing: 1px;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelighttopslant"]float: left; width: 0; height: 0; border-top: 3px solid transparent; border-left: 450px solid #A3A9C0; margin-top: -18px;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelightbottomslant"]width: 0; height: 0; float: right; border-bottom: 3px solid transparent; border-right: 450px solid #A3A9C0; margin-top: 15px;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelightsecondarylyrics"]height: 30px; line-height: 30px; background: #A3A9C0; text-align: center; color: #ffffff; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 12px; font-family: 'Niramit';[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelight:hover .punkisavelighttags"]margin-left: 0px;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelightseparator"]margin: 25px 15px; margin-bottom: 0px; height: 1px; background: linear-gradient(to right,transparent,#CFD4E6,transparent); text-align: center; line-height: 1px;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelightseparator div"]display: inline-block; padding: 0 10px; background: #ffffff; line-height: 10px; height: 10px; font-size: 10px; font-family: calibri; letter-spacing: 1px; color: #989EB3; text-transform: uppercase; position: relative; top: -5px;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelighttext"]padding: 25px; padding-top: 10px; font-size: 10px; line-height: 16px; font-family: verdana; color: #83889A; text-align: justify; height:300px; overflow:auto;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelighttext b"]color: #7D87A6; font-family: 'Niramit'; font-size: 12px;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelighttext i"]color: #989EB3; font-family: 'Niramit'; font-size: 12px;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelightcredit"]width: 490px; text-align: right; line-height: 15px; font-size: 12px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 1px; color: #6e6e6e; font-family: 'Niramit'; margin: auto;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelightcredit a"]font-weight: bold; color: #7D87A6; transition: 0.3s; font-family: inherit;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelightcredit a:hover"]color: #989EB3;[/newclass] |
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Ryan Arcken
Faculty
GRADE •
C- (70)
VITALITY •
2
STRENGTH •
2
SPEED •
3
RESILIENCE •
2
STAMINA •
3
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Bloodlust
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Fallen Angel
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Liekos
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Jan 21, 2019 3:38:14 GMT -6
Post by Ryan Arcken on Jan 21, 2019 3:38:14 GMT -6
[attr="class","trying"] [attr="class","we1"] [attr="class","lost1"]Who am I? [attr="class","rise"] [attr="class","dying1"] [attr="class","mouths1"]To some extent, he completely understood. After all, he - as far as he had been told, and as far as he was concerned - had been little more than a dead man walking by that point; a being that - by any and all, logical reasons - should not have been alive and breathing - had found himself alive and well, and meeting those of his past throughout his secondary chance, in addition. Similar to the rest, he found that she, too, inherited the same mantle of brief and sheer dumbfoundedness as the others had; the identical type that had even transitioned into the sense of bittersweetness and the like that the others had soon taken upon themselves,a s well. He understood, yet it still proved tiresome- especially with the stupid looks on their faces when they took it upon themselves to inquire further as if in denial. On some level, he dared to even state and consider the possibility of the disbelief causing him some form of guilt- though that in itself had been questionable, as he himself couldn’t even maintain a proper grasp of his own emotions in general, as of late. He thought he felt guilty, though the unclarity of it all caused these short lived feelings to transition into annoyance, and - soon afterwards - frustration.
A constant and tiring cycle.
Thus, he narrowed his eyes upon catching wind of her tone and expression; be it from the stutter within her tone, to the smile that she feigned throughout that time. He clicked his tongue in disapproval. ”If I remembered who the Hell you were, I wouldn’t have asked, to begin with,” he nearly spat; his tone borderline toxic, and his glare matching, as well. On instinct, he grasped his biceps a faint bit more while his arms remained within their cross; a sign of intensity, and one that had been amplified through the halo atop his head as it transitioned into a somewhat deeper - and slightly more constant - hue within the crimson end of the color spectrum. While she burned within an azure grief before his eyes alone, the halo above burned within shades as cardinal as his eyes while he examined her, about to say a tad more, though briefly refraining from doing so upon taking note of her own movements. Instinctively, his gaze trailed towards her hands as she reached into her pocket in favor of reeling her phone out; watching with little amusement by then as she vigorously tapped across the glass, and almost lashing out within a shroud of impatience. Before he could, however, he found himself peering upon the screen soon after finishing whatever thoughts that she had to convey.
A swift scan had been all it took for him to conclude the textual projection, and - with an immediate connection within his mind - he gave a more prominent scowl while immediately casting an intensified glare her way. ”...Liar,” had been the first and immediate response that he had to give. The grasp upon either of his arms tightened a faint bit more as he clicked his tongue, tilting his head within a skeptical manner. ”You’re lying. I feel a lot of things when looking at you, but hate-... Hate’s not one of those things.” [attr="class","lying1"]✎ Eun Ha Park , here goes the rigidness rip ulla [newclass=.we1]background-image:url(https://i.imgur.com/wOdQYsu.jpg?1);height:380px;width:400px;padding-top:120px;overflow:hidden;[/newclass][newclass=.avatar]background-color:#363636;width:50%;padding:10px;opacity:.9;transition:1s;border:#666 1px solid;padding-top:30px;padding-bottom:30px;transition-delay:2.5s;[/newclass][newclass=.lost1]font-size:12px;font-family:Alegreya Sans SC;color:#fff;letter-spacing:2px;padding:10px;background-color:#363636;opacity:.9;border:#666 1px solid;width:50%;transition:1s;margin-top:10px;margin-bottom:10px;transition-delay:2.5s;[/newclass][newclass=.trying:hover .lost1]opacity:0;transition:1s;[/newclass][newclass=.trying:hover .avatar]opacity:0;transition:1s;[/newclass][newclass=.rise]padding-top:25px;height:475px;width:400px;background-color:#272727;opacity:.8;margin-top:200px;transition:2s;transition-delay:1s;[/newclass][newclass=.trying:hover .rise]margin-top:-360px;transition:1.5s;transition-delay:1s;[/newclass][newclass=.dying1]width:80%;padding:10px;background-color:#1a1a1a;border:#444 1px solid;opacity:0;transition:1s;[/newclass][newclass=.mouths1]color:#eee;font-size:10px;text-align:justify;height:370px;overflow:auto;padding:5px;[/newclass][newclass=.lying1]width:80%;padding:3px;background-color:#1a1a1a;color:#777;font-size:10px;text-align:left;border:#444 1px solid;margin-top:10px;padding-left:10px;padding-right:10px;opacity:0;transition:1s;[/newclass][newclass=.trying:hover .dying1]opacity:1;transition:1s;transition-delay:2.5s;[/newclass][newclass=.trying:hover .lying1]opacity:1;transition:1s;transition-delay:2.5s;[/newclass][newclass=.trying ::-webkit-scrollbar]width:7px;[/newclass][newclass=.trying ::-webkit-scrollbar-track-piece]background:#444;border-left:3px solid #1a1a1a;border-right:3px solid #1a1a1a;[/newclass][newclass=.trying ::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background:#000;border:#444 1px solid;[/newclass][newclass=.dying1 b]color:#508ACC[/newclass][googlefont=Alegreya Sans SC] |
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Eun Ha Park
Traveler
|
Frozen Voice
|
Succubus/Okami
|
Nano
|
|
Jan 21, 2019 16:10:56 GMT -6
Post by Eun Ha Park on Jan 21, 2019 16:10:56 GMT -6
[nospaces] [newclass=".punkisavelighttags"]display: inline-block; float: left; margin-left: -200px; margin-top: 145px; width: 120px; height: 30px; background: #ffffff; transition: 0.5s; text-align: right; font-family: 'Niramit'; font-size: 11px; color: #989EB3; text-transform: uppercase; line-height: 30px;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelighttags a"]font-size: inherit !important; font-family: inherit !important; transition: 0.3s;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelighttags a:hover"]color: #8D92A6 !important;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelighttags div"]width: 80px; height: 30px; float: right; background: linear-gradient(to right,#ffffff,transparent); margin-right: -80px; margin-left: -50px;[/newclass]
[attr=class,punkisavelight] [attr=class,punkisavelightimage] [attr=class,punkisavelightlyrics] [attr=class,punkisavelighttopslant] lets pretend the words[break] we never said hurt us[attr=class,punkisavelightbottomslant] [attr=class,punkisavelightseparator]
you know it's throwing her off
[attr=class,punkisavelighttext]
It was better this way. [break][break]
She repeats it, time and time again. It's a broken record, sped up - the more she lies to herself like this, she's bound to believe it sooner or later - until the record crashes. Her fingers tremble around the edges of her phone, her emotions had been gradually filling her bottle to the brim (the grief, the agony; just standing in front of him was painful) and threatening to burst out in a blaze of glory. She tells himself that she knows him, only to flip the other way like a two-faced coin; this was confusing her. Perhaps she had wanted him to be the same man she knew before, or perhaps she just wanted him dead (with the intention to follow suit; what right does she have to be alive after taking the life of another?) because watching him breathe, speak, see was painful on all accounts. At this moment, Eun Ha was at a loss - where did her emotions stand? Where had she, a woman of little words and easily read expressions, standing in terms of her emotions? What should she be expressing? Anger? Frustration? Anguish? Regret? Guilt? She wants to voice it out. She wanted to scream, to cry, to-- [break][break]
She smiles at his words.[break][break]
This was someone else, she tells herself (an attempt to gloss over her delusion, fragile as it was knowing it be shattered long ago). The fact that he felt something towards her - something, she wasn't told what nor was she in the state where she could assume - means that there was some sense of familiarity. There was no way of getting around it; they were familiar. She could lie; she could tell him they didn't know each other - or rather, they cut ties long ago - and smile, speak through her teeth and clutch at her heart later on. Yet she didn't. Rather, the woman only maintains her smile before crossing her free arm under her bust, resting under the elbow that eventually curled back to rest against her side. There is a pause as her eyes glaze over the screen, holding the delete button on the touch screen before tapping in a hastened manner.[break][break]
No, it wasn't the cold that made it difficult to type; but she played it off as such. Eun raises the phone to him once again, yet her eyes wander elsewhere. The crimson of his halo and the darkened feathers of his wings-- A fallen angel, perhaps. She knew little about this particular race (if not because of her lack of knowledge in general, it is the lack of intent to learn) so the amnesia part is new to her. Nor did she know about the light glowing around his halo - the deeper crimson that burned; the light reflecting off her grief-ridden blue felt oppressing. It was going to devour her alive - it continued to glow, glare over her. 'Whatever. That's not important~' the first line of text read. She maintains her smile throughout, resisting the urge to pull back her phone and scream out the words threatening to break through the lump in her throat and butterflies in her stomach. [break][break]
'I'm not important. What I wanna know is why you're here. How long have you been here ouo?'
[attr=class,punkisavelightsecondarylyrics] [attr=class,punkisavelighttopslant] hug me until the pain goes away [attr=class,punkisavelightcredit]template by punki[googlefont=Niramit:400,400i,700][googlefont=Dosis:300] [newclass=".punkisavelight"]background: #ffffff; width: 450px; margin: auto; border-right: 40px solid #DBDCE6;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelightimage"]background: url('https://i.imgur.com/rvYMr1x.jpg'); height: 200px; background-position: center; background-size: cover; overflow: hidden;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelightlyrics"]height: 40px; padding: 15px 0; text-align: center; background: #A3A9C0; font-family: 'Dosis'; color: #ffffff; text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 20px; line-height: 20px; font-weight: 300; letter-spacing: 1px;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelighttopslant"]float: left; width: 0; height: 0; border-top: 3px solid transparent; border-left: 450px solid #A3A9C0; margin-top: -18px;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelightbottomslant"]width: 0; height: 0; float: right; border-bottom: 3px solid transparent; border-right: 450px solid #A3A9C0; margin-top: 15px;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelightsecondarylyrics"]height: 30px; line-height: 30px; background: #A3A9C0; text-align: center; color: #ffffff; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 12px; font-family: 'Niramit';[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelight:hover .punkisavelighttags"]margin-left: 0px;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelightseparator"]margin: 25px 15px; margin-bottom: 0px; height: 1px; background: linear-gradient(to right,transparent,#CFD4E6,transparent); text-align: center; line-height: 1px;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelightseparator div"]display: inline-block; padding: 0 10px; background: #ffffff; line-height: 10px; height: 10px; font-size: 10px; font-family: calibri; letter-spacing: 1px; color: #989EB3; text-transform: uppercase; position: relative; top: -5px;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelighttext"]padding: 25px; padding-top: 10px; font-size: 10px; line-height: 16px; font-family: verdana; color: #83889A; text-align: justify; height:300px; overflow:auto;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelighttext b"]color: #7D87A6; font-family: 'Niramit'; font-size: 12px;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelighttext i"]color: #989EB3; font-family: 'Niramit'; font-size: 12px;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelightcredit"]width: 490px; text-align: right; line-height: 15px; font-size: 12px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 1px; color: #6e6e6e; font-family: 'Niramit'; margin: auto;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelightcredit a"]font-weight: bold; color: #7D87A6; transition: 0.3s; font-family: inherit;[/newclass] [newclass=".punkisavelightcredit a:hover"]color: #989EB3;[/newclass] |
|
Ryan Arcken
Faculty
GRADE •
C- (70)
VITALITY •
2
STRENGTH •
2
SPEED •
3
RESILIENCE •
2
STAMINA •
3
|
Bloodlust
|
Fallen Angel
|
Liekos
|
|
Jan 21, 2019 22:37:28 GMT -6
Post by Ryan Arcken on Jan 21, 2019 22:37:28 GMT -6
[attr="class","trying"] [attr="class","we1"] [attr="class","lost1"]Who am I? [attr="class","rise"] [attr="class","dying1"] [attr="class","mouths1"]Why did she stop talking?
Why did everything she do seem so forced?
’...Who the Hell are you…?’
Needless to say, he found himself vastly unsatisfied by her in general; be it from her lack of direct speech within those most recent moments, or perhaps even the manner in which she - despite his general lack of legitimate evidence - had been sputtering falsities within his midst. She was lying. She was definitely lying, and despite the fact that he held no way of telling for sure, he was positive of that fact. Something about her… It was all too familiar. Too familiar for her to be someone that he couldn’t have possibly not known in the past. Too familiar for her to be unimportant, like she had been claiming, and too familiar for his liking, overall.
He knew her.
And he knew she was lying.
After all, there were too many things that he could feel just with the sight of her. Of course, there was the constant guilt and regret, but there had, in addition, also been...positivity. Happiness. Relief. All of it bittersweet for reasons that he found little solace in not knowing, though the fact of the matter had still been that he felt some form of connection with her. He preferred not to be driven strictly by instinct, and to follow his heart blindly; being more willing to move himself forward with at least some form of logic and proof to solidify his assumptions, though - much to his chagrin - instincts had been the very thing that had brought him thus far. ...None of it, he found, had been for naught, thus far. Connections were prominent, connections were everywhere, and connections were what allowed him to gain access to reintroductions to the people that he had known and loved prior, even if his entire remembrance of them still remained fractured.
She was no outlier, compared to them.
And just the implication of her unimportance irked him for two different reasons; the more obvious one being the attempt to brush his inquiries off and away, though another being instinctive, once more, as he immediately rejected the thought within the back of his mind before he even realized it within his entirety. ”...You have no right to tell me who I thought was important…” he murmured lowly; his gaze continuously narrowed within its piercing, crimson glow. ”You were important to me… I know you were…” he went on, clicking his tongue soon afterwards.
He took her latter words into account with a keenness, though immediately met it with a brief and vague scoff of what only appeared to be annoyance and impatience; two traits that - as she would know - would be drastically differing in comparison to his original demeanor. ”...I’m pretty sure you know why I’m here.” With that progressive statement, he finally found it within himself to trail his gaze from her form in favor of gazing upon the stone beside her. He eyed it idly before his gaze - ever so slightly - lightened within intensity, though in favor of inheriting a slightly more tired look within an absentminded manner. ”...I’m here to visit my grave,” he went on, ”and judging by the look on your face, I know that I was at least important enough to you on some level for you to bother visiting, yourself.” From the corner of his eye, he peered upon her once more; his gaze and expression unreadable for the most part, though clearly pensive. ”...But if you mean how long I’ve been alive, it’s been maybe a month, or so. If you mean here, then I just got here. I come here periodically, but I normally don’t even see anyone dropping by. ...They’re all doing their own things.” [attr="class","lying1"]✎ Eun Ha Park , throw her off even more ulla [newclass=.we1]background-image:url(https://i.imgur.com/wOdQYsu.jpg?1);height:380px;width:400px;padding-top:120px;overflow:hidden;[/newclass][newclass=.avatar]background-color:#363636;width:50%;padding:10px;opacity:.9;transition:1s;border:#666 1px solid;padding-top:30px;padding-bottom:30px;transition-delay:2.5s;[/newclass][newclass=.lost1]font-size:12px;font-family:Alegreya Sans SC;color:#fff;letter-spacing:2px;padding:10px;background-color:#363636;opacity:.9;border:#666 1px solid;width:50%;transition:1s;margin-top:10px;margin-bottom:10px;transition-delay:2.5s;[/newclass][newclass=.trying:hover .lost1]opacity:0;transition:1s;[/newclass][newclass=.trying:hover .avatar]opacity:0;transition:1s;[/newclass][newclass=.rise]padding-top:25px;height:475px;width:400px;background-color:#272727;opacity:.8;margin-top:200px;transition:2s;transition-delay:1s;[/newclass][newclass=.trying:hover .rise]margin-top:-360px;transition:1.5s;transition-delay:1s;[/newclass][newclass=.dying1]width:80%;padding:10px;background-color:#1a1a1a;border:#444 1px solid;opacity:0;transition:1s;[/newclass][newclass=.mouths1]color:#eee;font-size:10px;text-align:justify;height:370px;overflow:auto;padding:5px;[/newclass][newclass=.lying1]width:80%;padding:3px;background-color:#1a1a1a;color:#777;font-size:10px;text-align:left;border:#444 1px solid;margin-top:10px;padding-left:10px;padding-right:10px;opacity:0;transition:1s;[/newclass][newclass=.trying:hover .dying1]opacity:1;transition:1s;transition-delay:2.5s;[/newclass][newclass=.trying:hover .lying1]opacity:1;transition:1s;transition-delay:2.5s;[/newclass][newclass=.trying ::-webkit-scrollbar]width:7px;[/newclass][newclass=.trying ::-webkit-scrollbar-track-piece]background:#444;border-left:3px solid #1a1a1a;border-right:3px solid #1a1a1a;[/newclass][newclass=.trying ::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background:#000;border:#444 1px solid;[/newclass][newclass=.dying1 b]color:#508ACC[/newclass][googlefont=Alegreya Sans SC] |
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Eun Ha Park
Traveler
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Frozen Voice
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Succubus/Okami
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Nano
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Jan 22, 2019 15:27:04 GMT -6
Post by Eun Ha Park on Jan 22, 2019 15:27:04 GMT -6
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[attr=class,punkisavelight] [attr=class,punkisavelightimage] [attr=class,punkisavelightlyrics] [attr=class,punkisavelighttopslant] lets pretend the words[break] we never said hurt us[attr=class,punkisavelightbottomslant] [attr=class,punkisavelightseparator]
fwoosh
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He knew her.[break][break]
It was a fact she couldn't deny - not for much longer, that is. There was no point in trying to tell a lie that you couldn't get away with, but there was no harm in twisting a white lie, if anything else. Yet like him (though the sight hurt; he was both a reminder of her crime and the remnants of her mistake), she was relieved. She was overjoyed, in fact, to see him alive. She could see another day where he was walking, talking, alive. Alive. She still can't get over the fact that he is still here, in front of her. Still with that same glare, still with those dead eyes, yet with that hint and spark of what was left of his former self - a hue of red. Red fury, anger, frustration, pain (he was confused; he was lost. She should know that better than anyone). If she were to be the outline of azure regret, grief, anguish and melancholy-- Then the figure standing before her was burning. Dead as he looked - as he may have well been - he was burning. [break][break]
He was burning red with determination. He was burning red with life; like a flame that was eager to burn everything down should he not be contained (and this thought - this sight - scared her. When he burns out, he will be gone once again). It was a dark crimson, similar to the lighter pink hue she's once donned in her eyes and the other half of her hair (like two sides of the same coin, she thought that things would stay the same as they always were; how foolish of her). [break][break]
His glare pierces right through her (transparent, like a clear glass), hitting a weak spot she forgotten she had. Though buried deep for the past few months from the grief and the pain, she was taken aback with how easily it cut through - like a hot knife to butter. It was astonishing, surprising, unforeseen-- Painful. She can't forget that look, the glare of "why didn't you tell me" or "how could you" (it's so familiar that it scares her). In response, the young woman takes a slight step back into the snow, careful not to hinder the path of his grave nor the coffin that was buried under the ground. He said things the way they were, and he spoke the truth. She had no right to tell him who she was to him, nor how he felt about her towards him at the time of her death. Yet the flashes of that glare - the tone of his voice - are similar (they're too alike) to the same gaze he gave her just a couple months back. [break][break]
It was terrifying. [break][break]
But nothing comes out of her mouth, no matter how much she'd want to say it. 'I'm sorry'. 'You were a close friend of mine', 'we used to date each other', 'I loved you'. [break][break]
'I still love you.'[break][break]
How is she supposed to tell him that? A man with no memories and only instinct to guide him; the red outline of him spoke it all, filling the gaps of silence that would have otherwise made it unbearable. Yet as he went on, this made it easier for her. The change in topic helped her regain her composure, no matter how rigid he may have seemed. She intently listens to his story however little it may have been, and how generalized it was. Visiting his own grave was a given; anyone who has died would, to some degree, want to see the truth behind it. Their name, sprawled in red across the stone forever engraved in history. Potentially, ideally. Yet a month since he's been brought back, she hasn't heard a word from anyone (it would have been better that way, otherwise she'll tear herself apart). She purses her lips and out came an audible, low hum of both interest and curiosity alike. The woman slowly shrugs her shoulders before gently raising her hand to poke at his arm shamelessly, with zero regard to the current feel and air. [break][break]
It was suffocating. [break][break]
'Aw, you almost seemed a bit down, there~.' The smirk speaks volumes of her playful demeanour and whether or not that was genuine was up in the air.
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