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Post by • Jinx on Sept 9, 2009 18:22:32 GMT -5
Gently, gently, the wind caressed his cheeks and tangled within his silver locks like a child plays with a doll's hair. He gave a soft sigh, a sound that matched the noise of the breeze-- one of the few things that he felt were actually kind to him; the winds, for him, were always quiet and soft, never tugging and hurting him like everyone else. Another sigh escaped him, and he twisted around to look at the people who were milling about and through the cobblestone street. It wasn't like he could actually name it, anyway-- the street was of no importance to him, had nothing but a faceless appearance that was decided by those that had shaped it. The seamless amount of life that throbbed through the streets were all that defined it. And, he just hadn't taken the time to read the post with the sign that explained what the name was.
It was probably something foreign, anyway. Something he couldn't read. He could only read Russian, and he knew he was far from that place. Hell, he didn't know how far he'd even wandered since he'd started out from home. How far he'd gone also proved to be no importance-- because although his feet would take him where he was going, he wasn't so sure as to where he was going in the first place, except for far away from his mother. Not to be mistaken as he hated his mother; he'd dropped that bitterness long ago, in a place that he only distantly remembered, because he quickly forgot the places he'd been once he left them. This new town, this bustling city with Victorian houses, powdered ladies in their frilly dresses, and sniffy gentlemen with their silk top hats, was now completely imprinted in his mind-- and as soon as he stepped out of the city, it would begin to fade away.
He reasoned that this was only natural, since he'd gotten so used to forgetting these things, like when mother threatened him, or hit him, or did anything else mean. He forgot about it so that he could forgive her, just as Papa had done. And he had been proud of himself.
The damp sidewalk was beginning to seep through his clothes as clouds flitted across the wet, dark sky. He twisted a strand of silver hair around his finger and then tucked it behind his ear. In a single movement, he twisted his sleeve between his fingers, and then played with his pierced ear, and then shifted in his spot. He felt so out of place, just like he always did. Was it really that good of him to be wandering away from home? Even there, he felt out of place, but at least it was somewhere that he knew someone loved him. He sighed quietly, ignoring the glances he got as he rested his head on his knees; rain fell from the heavens like someone was crying, and he felt a veil of desolation fall over him. He was beginning to really regret leaving. At least, since it was raining, it was hard to tell there were tears on his face.
x x x
BUT THE REAL BOMBSHELLS HAVE ALREADY SUNK
( primadonnas of the gutter )
icons © herinia @ livejournal! |
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Post by Serend!pity on Sept 11, 2009 19:40:51 GMT -5
Luka shivered, wishing that he could have avoided the thunderstorm looming over his head. He didn't bother rushing, as most of the people scattering about and jumping whenever they heard a rumble of thunder, or clacking of lightning that was too cose for comfort. Not even the rain would make him rush things, make him change his pace. Besides, rain wasn't so bad with an umbrella over your head. The red head softly smiled, sticking a hand out of his small sheild against the water overhead. His shoes and bottom of his dark colored jeans were soaked, and just by the way the rain was beginning to come in sheets told signs of this not stopping for quite some time.
It looked more night than day as Luka tredged to his little makeshift home. The little smile at the chaos of it all staying all the while. He loved storms, the sounds, the winds, the fresh feeling of clean that it gave to the air directly afterward. There was nothing better than a good storm. Especially one to end a six day week. His day off tomorrow would be one that he treasured every week; not to say that he didn't enjoy his job, but he was on his feet almost all day; making that sunday off more than worth it's while. The boy's smile got wider for a moment, but soon his face took a swift turn. With a blink, Luka's expression was one of confusion... what was he doing out here? He was hard to miss, and it was a wonder that one of the rushing figures infront and or behind him hadn't gotten to him first. It was like he was barely there, his lone figure only visible between the breaks of the anxious crowd.
It was almost as if when the next person passed, he was vanish with them. But he didn't, he was there, and... he was soaked. Luka was soon there, standing behind the pale stranger, an umbrella looming over both of their heads.
"Are you waiting for someone? He asked, though most of his voice was taken by the crack of thunder overhead. He repeated himself a bit louder, hoping that he was heard that time. It was obvious that he had been there a while; he looked soaked to the bone. If this someone didn't show soon, then this stranger should probably head home. |
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Post by • Jinx on Sept 12, 2009 11:10:24 GMT -5
Piper exhaled softly, pushing strands of his silvery hair away from his face as the rain continued to fall; just as the hair was out of his face, the water pushed it back in, sticking the tendrils of hair to his cheeks and eyes. Another visible puff of breath escaped him, caused by the cold, frigid air, and he found some sort of amusement in thinking it funny that he could make his breath visible. He smiled softly, held his hand out in front of him, and puffed outward again, watching the tendrils of fluffy white curl around his fingers and then disappear. He didn't notice very much how wet outside it was at the moment, just how cold it was, and he continued to smile softly.
It was when he heard a voice that he jumped, utterly startled. The voice was so different than the monotonous noises that came from the faceless down, from the same plop of watery shoes hitting the cobblestone sidewalks. He blinked, realizing that the reason he no longer noticed it was wet was because the boy behind him was holding an umbrella over them both. Piper stood, fidgeting slightly, trying to see if he could recall what the boy had said to startle him so. He blinked, feeling discombobulated, and then clasped his hands behind his back nervously, fidgeting again.
"Ah..." Piper mumbled, looking at the ground, trying to convince himself to talk. This person meant no harm-- so far. What would be the danger in explaining everything? Piper shifted, continually looking at the ground. "I-I'm not waiting for anyone," he continued, scuffling his toe on the sidewalk. "I was just sitting," he added quickly, looking up at the boy with wide, maroon eyes. "Really, I'm fine." He seemed to be neglectful of noticing his soaked clothes, sticking to his frail, slender body, and the white pallor of his skin. Self-conciously, he chewed his bottom lip. "I'm not in trouble, are I?" he asked after a moment, clearly concerned.
x x x
BUT THE REAL BOMBSHELLS HAVE ALREADY SUNK
( primadonnas of the gutter )
icons © herinia @ livejournal! |
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Post by paulaugust123 on Jan 21, 2016 1:56:52 GMT -5
Thank you jinx for giving this beautiful information thank you once again..
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Post by williamjohn01 on Feb 5, 2016 0:56:25 GMT -5
Information you have shared is good.
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