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Post by Rocton on Aug 6, 2011 14:58:41 GMT -5
Just another lazy day for Rocton. The sun was just a little bit more harsh than usual today but that was just perfect for Rocton, who preferred too hot over not hot enough. Here in the forest, the calm sounds of nature ,as wind whistled softly through the air, were the only things Rocton could hear as he relaxed on a low lying branch, strumming his guitar slowly. He was wearing his typical black tux, this time augmented by a nice black cowboy hat he had bought from a local dealer and had it covering his face. The days had gotten longer in Shibusen, at least for Rocton. He'd gone for years trying to catch up on his basics classes but now hit a roadblock of having no weapon partner. Unable to go on missions with everyone else, Rocton spent more days lounging about like this, practicing with his guitar and while it wasn't boring, it wasn't enjoyable either. He'd seen some of the other teams at work, amateurs mostly, inexperienced and unable to cooperate. Seemed like a raw deal, depending on others so much wasn't something Rocton was accustomed to. "Screw it, Relax now. Patience begets fortune after all." Rocton thought to himself as he began to play the guitar.
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Post by ashley on Aug 8, 2011 8:26:45 GMT -5
[style=padding-top: 10px;] [/style] [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #f8f8f8; padding-left: 10px; padding-top: 10px; padding-right: 10px; width: 100px;padding-bottom: 10px;] | [atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #80d0ea; width: 400px;][style=font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; font-size: 77px; z-index: 1; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: -15px; position: relative; margin-top: -10px; color: #ffffff; opacity: .6; alpha:filter(opacity=60%);]double[/style][style=font-family: georgia; font-style: italic; text-transform: lowercase; z-index: 2; font-size: 45px; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 2px; margin-top: -50px; position: relative;]rainbow[/style][style=font-family: century gothic; font-size: 15px; color: #ffffff; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: center;]all the way. what does it mean?[/style] |
[style=margin-top: -65px] [/style] [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #f8f8f8; width: 50px; padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom: 10px;] [style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #b43b3b;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #eaa23c;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #f8fa71;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #47c063;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #6673c4;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #a783ba;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #b43b3b;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #eaa23c;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #f8fa71;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #47c063;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #6673c4;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #a783ba;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #b43b3b;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #eaa23c;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #f8fa71;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #47c063;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #6673c4;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #a783ba;] [/style] | [atrb=width,50,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #f8f8f8; width: 50px; padding-right: 8px; padding-bottom: 10px;] [style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #b43b3b;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #eaa23c;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #f8fa71;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #47c063;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #6673c4;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #a783ba;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #b43b3b;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #eaa23c;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #f8fa71;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #47c063;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #6673c4;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #a783ba;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #b43b3b;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #eaa23c;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #f8fa71;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #47c063;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #6673c4;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #a783ba;] [/style] | [atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #80d0ea; padding: 10px; width: 400px;][style=background-color: #ffffff; opacity: .6; alpha:filter(opacity=60%); font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; color: #000000; width: 250px; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; height: 223px; overflow: auto; margin-bottom: -23px;]Ashley’s day had, up till now, not been a very successful one. Perhaps an almost undeniably horrific day. Ashley was almost crying for the most part, walking through the busy streets of Death City crying out how sorry he was for not giving Locco breakfast. It was an hilariously heartbreaking spectacle. It was mostly funny. Obviously, forgetting to feed Locco was a sin in Ashley‘s book, it was like a trauma and he was almost under reacting, considering his love for the animal. In his panic, he bought three enormous carrots so the big lump of fur didn’t waste away, as if it would, it was absolutely enormous. Ashley had been feeling terrible for the rest of the day, hugging his rabbit close and hoping that Locco wasn’t hungry still, even though three carrots was more than a bowl full of seeds and carrot chunks, so the bundle of saw-dust smelling fur was quite content, even if her owner wasn’t. It was hard to tell that it was happy, seeing that its face was forever stuck in a rather gormless expression, only accentuated by a twitch of the nose every one in a while, unless it discovered a new and exciting smell which it wanted to investigate. Ashley rarely let the bunny investigate, he was always terrified that she’d fall down a hole or get attacked by a dog. All of which was highly inevitable, since Locco could move exceptionally fast, but never had anywhere to show off that speed, and had made Locco incredibly lazy. Ashley was now hyper-emotional, and whenever he glanced the dark, deathly colours of Shibusen, he began to cry, seeing how his synaesthesia was an awfully intense hinder, depending in location.
In his arms he held his bunny, simple and sawdusty, and hanging from his arm -the handle wrapped around like a girl carries her bag- are two shopping bags, one full of chocolate, sweets, noodles and pepsi, and the other full of savoury meat, vegetables and peaches. Throughout the day, he had been walking aimlessly, just avoiding cars, walls and people, only taking right hand turns and some lefts when it seemed appropriate. His common sense metre had dropped. Dramatically. It was not a first time, and would undoubtedly not be the last. His emotions were like that of an eight months pregnant woman, and he didn’t even know what pregnant meant. Ashley decided to sit down, his legs were beginning to hurt. He looked around him, teary eyed, trying to located a decent sitting area. He snuggled Locco who kicked once before Ashley moved the pressure on her body, and she settled, her nose twitched. Ashley decided that the wall was the best place to sit, near the woods. He hoisted himself up, plopping Locco on the grass of the forest. He opened up his bag and took out a thin plastic triangular container, inside were two chicken salad sandwiches, which he had bought along with all his other groceries and sweets. He peeled the lid off, passing Locco a chunk of bread. The rabbit shuffled over to it, sniffing it, then bouncing away, uninterested. Ashley sat, swinging is legs like a school girl, smiling to himself as he ate. He swore he could have hear a guitar, he liked the sound. It wasn’t light blue or white, it was a strange turquoise colour. He smiled, oblivious to that the sound was actually someone playing a guitar, he though it was a tune slipping out of the nearby grocery store. It always played relaxing music. When he was finished, Ashley slid off the wall and -like a good boy- put his rubbish gingerly into the bin. He hummed to himself, rocking from side to side gleefully. He turned to head on back, but her froze. Locco was gone. Ashley let out a terrified squeal, running back to the wall and climbing over onto the grass. He rushed past his bags, calling out to Locco. He was a little useless when it came to treating the rabbit like a rabbit, it wouldn’t fetch or come back to its name. It would hop off looking for a nice blade of grass to it and this particular rabbit was insanely picky with her grass. Truth it, the bunny wasn’t actually looking for grass, but was hunting for the sound of the guitar, hopping sluggishly towards it, nose twitching and ears lopping. Ashley -after checking around a couple of trees and down between the roots of another, got the same bright idea as Locco, and headed towards the music.
~~~~~~~
Locco had found the source of the music; a silver haired man playing guitar. The white speckled bunny sat, still as stone, watching the man. He hadn’t noticed her yet. She was mute, so all she did was twitch her ear from time to time, her beady black eyes peering up in simple animal wonder. This boy was much more imposing than her owner, Ashley. He looked like he could handle himself, Ashley tends to run away. Well, more like run away all the time if he can, if he can’t run away he predominantly tends to sit and bawl his eyes out like a five-year-old child. Locco hadn’t considered what Ashley would think; how could she? She was a Lop Rabbit with less common sense that a human. She was sure that Ashley would find her, he thought like her anyway. Sometimes.
Ashley did find her. He saw her clean white fur through the trees, smiling as he ran to her, still oblivious to the fact he’d left his shopping behind. “Locco!” the boy chimed, scoping the rabbit into his arms. The bunny kicked against his dark white coat, flaring up the inside pink. “Hey, settle down!” Ashley looked up as she settled. A man was playing the guitar. In a tree. Ashley looked, amazed. How could some playing guitar in a tree like that? Wouldn’t it be scary? He moved closer, smiling and smile almost to big for his face. “Hello mister!” he called, “What’cha doing all the way up there!”
Word Count: 1018 [/style]
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[style=font-family: century gothic; font-size: 12px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase;]made by zingara of OTE[/style]
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Post by Rocton on Aug 9, 2011 3:51:28 GMT -5
The sound of the melody whistled through Rocton ears as softly as his fingers glided over the strings. This was his sanctuary and as tune of the guitar slowed to a close and the silence crept back, he could only let out a sigh of relief from under his hat.
The shade of the tree was comforting, Rocton, like the hug of mother nature swaying him towards sleep. It was effective too, as Rocton soon began to loosen his muscles and begin to doze off into a deep sleep under the usual tree. He was so close to his daily nirvana that it was almost expected that the shriek from just a little ways off would stir and shake his mind back into focus.
Could it be a kishin in the area? What could he do? He had no weapon, no ally. He was all alone, a lone meister with only a handgun that wasn't even fully loaded. But this was Death city, surely there was someone else around who could have heard that shriek.
Eventually he rationalized to himself that if he did jump into a fight as unprepared as he was and as relaxed as his muscles were right now, he would cause more harm than good. He cursed himself under his breath wishing only that he could do more and wasn't trapped behind this perpetual need for something that could do more damage to the kishins.
He pulled his left hand off the guitar neck and placed it on his pistol, Sally. So often had he come to rely on it in the past but now she proved to be such a vulnerability.... a vulnerability that held within itself every regret that Rocton ever possessed. As he held the grip of that pistol and for one second considered the usual escape, he could only let his eyes water, but refused to let a single tear drop.
He let it go, for in that memory of his past, he remembered the promise he had made to that elderly woman. His life was now in her servitude, to do whatever he needed to do to destroy as many kishins as he could and with that he put his left hand back on the guitar and played a little bit more "Tears in the Rain."
As he played, he heard a crunching noise, a clear sign of a visitor, and slowed to a halt as naturally as possible. He pulled his hand back towards Sally. This moment of weakness had left him open for attack, how foolish could he be. Whoever it was that stood there under the tree, could kill him as swiftly as they wanted to. The meister was ready though, to put up a fight when he heard that voice ring out "LOCCO!" and run towards whatever was about to strike him dead. "Settle down" quickly followed as shock struck Rocton.
Stunned, Rocton sat there, waiting for a battle against a bunny that he didn't know was there and the boy who just asked him "Whatcha doing up there?"
He had overblown the entire thing and as he regained his senses and moved to secure his guitar on its strap, his hat fell off his face and floated down in front of the small boy under the tree. Rocton didn't seem to pay it much attention though as he moved slowly off his leaning position off the trunk of the tree and sat upright on the branch to respond with his slightly scarred face. "Relaxing. It's a fine day for it don't you think?" He looked down at the boy, who was holding that large bunny so tightly, the meister pondered whether or not he should jump down and and help it.
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Post by ashley on Aug 12, 2011 12:22:51 GMT -5
[style=padding-top: 10px;] [/style] [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #f8f8f8; padding-left: 10px; padding-top: 10px; padding-right: 10px; width: 100px;padding-bottom: 10px;] | [atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #80d0ea; width: 400px;][style=font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; font-size: 77px; z-index: 1; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: -15px; position: relative; margin-top: -10px; color: #ffffff; opacity: .6; alpha:filter(opacity=60%);]double[/style][style=font-family: georgia; font-style: italic; text-transform: lowercase; z-index: 2; font-size: 45px; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 2px; margin-top: -50px; position: relative;]rainbow[/style][style=font-family: century gothic; font-size: 15px; color: #ffffff; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: center;]all the way. what does it mean?[/style] |
[style=margin-top: -65px] [/style] [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #f8f8f8; width: 50px; padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom: 10px;] [style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #b43b3b;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #eaa23c;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #f8fa71;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #47c063;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #6673c4;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #a783ba;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #b43b3b;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #eaa23c;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #f8fa71;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #47c063;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #6673c4;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #a783ba;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #b43b3b;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #eaa23c;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #f8fa71;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #47c063;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #6673c4;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #a783ba;] [/style] | [atrb=width,50,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #f8f8f8; width: 50px; padding-right: 8px; padding-bottom: 10px;] [style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #b43b3b;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #eaa23c;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #f8fa71;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #47c063;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #6673c4;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #a783ba;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #b43b3b;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #eaa23c;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #f8fa71;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #47c063;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #6673c4;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #a783ba;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #b43b3b;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #eaa23c;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #f8fa71;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #47c063;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #6673c4;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #a783ba;] [/style] | [atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #80d0ea; padding: 10px; width: 400px;][style=background-color: #ffffff; opacity: .6; alpha:filter(opacity=60%); font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; color: #000000; width: 250px; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; height: 223px; overflow: auto; margin-bottom: -23px;]Ashley, for some strange, unknown reason, had not expected much of a reaction from the man in the trees. He was expecting some kind of struggle to get his attention, the man so diligently sitting atop a branch. Ashley wasn’t sure if this guy was his age or over, but he wouldn’t be rude and ask. He just cradled Locco, now relaxed and dreary in his arms. Ashley was a little surprised, wide-eyed to the point he looked almost stoned, like he was high on cannabis or ecstasy. The same thought occurred to anyone about him, no matter his introduction style, and this was by far his worst. He was post-panicking from just a moment ago when he had lost Locco, and it wouldn’t be to long before he realized he’s left all his shopping behind, then he’d most likely drag this new person which him and make him carry everything. Ashley wasn’t particularly self observant, and didn’t really like to think about what he looked like. He was small, scrawny and really, really weird holding a rabbit. He wondered if the new man liked rabbits, or if he was a renowned bunny beater? Maybe he was allergic to rabbits? Maybe he had a cat that would try and eat Locco? Ashley tried to stop those thoughts from progressing into his mind; it was unhealthy and not so good for his sensitive demeanour. Any kind of drastic change and it would be felt by everyone within eyesight, which was slightly irritating, because his mood could change like petals in the wind; with some force, but usually no harder that punching grass in the blade.
Ashley smiled still, in his weird, Ashley way. He observed the man’s clothes; a tux. Hu. Odd for a person to be wearing one of those. He much preferred going out with no color coordination himself, because he was Ashley Shaw. Everyone seemed to know him, some way or another. He was the king of cuteness, with his side-kick, the reluctant, if not surprisingly strong, Locco le Lapin. Ashley was no stranger to causing a ruckus and getting himself known or the centre of some kind of attention, but he was highly oblivious to it. Some people found that irritating, others found it cute, others were apathetic or not bothered. He wasn’t a complicated person at first glance, probably about as complicated as Little Bo Peep, although when you threw his synaesthesia onto it, he became as complex and China Mieville’s idea of phasers. Hell, he was probably as complex as any book that was goof that you could find of the shelves, he was very unpredictable if you didn’t know him, and when you knew him, you though you understood, but to hell with that notion, he’s still a little rough around the edges and there ain’t no stopping that.
Ashley noticed that The Man in the Tree with a Guitar had a scar on his face. He couldn’t see it well, but it was there and he wondered how he had got it. Ashley stifled the question, plopping Locco back on the floor. The bunny sniffed around his owner’s feet, nibbling at his shoe slightly, intrigued with the funny material, before lazily hopping once of twice for nibble a patch of grass. Ashley watched her intently, before looking back at the man –well, he thought it was a man, he didn’t know if he was a boy younger than him, either- and glancing at the pistol that revealed itself for a split second. Ashley tried not to think about that. All he had to defend himself with was a fat rabbit that chewed on things, and he couldn’t image lobbing the poor animal at The Man in the Tree. That would just be strange. And Locco wouldn’t agree. The fright alone would stop her moving... and breathing. “Relaxing. It's a fine day for it don't you think?” The Man in the Tree spoke, drawing Ashley’s attention. So, he wasn’t a mute? Wait, why did he even think that? He guessed it was just him, making false assumptions on childlike whims. Typical of him, he found himself doing that a lot in the past, and he thought it had gone. Apparently not.
Ashley puckered himself up. “It’s a nice day... well, weather wise,” Ashley began in his shaky, nervous voice, “I’m not sure I’m having the best of days myself see... I forgot to feed Locco this morning, it was horrible of me, I know, but I don’t forget... actually, this is the first time...” Ashley trailed off, the thought of Locco hungry returned, upsetting him again. He wondered what kind of stupid error could have made him forget. It was like forgetting your mother’s funeral, you simply didn’t do it... unless your mother was a bitch and you never wanted to see her again. Ashley was very keen on his mother, he liked to write her messages and little updates, he did send her emails from time to time, but he never seemed to receive any back. Maybe she didn’t have an email address and he was ending the emails to another person called Isola Shaw... he tried not to think about that. He’d keep sending messages, no matter if she didn’t know how to reply. See, it was the office workers that replied to emails at his mother’s business, she signed the pay checks and kept morale up. His father, well, Ashley didn’t know what he did. He just seemed to ride horses and make golems and count numbers on sheets and smile when he said they’d received a twenty percent profit. Ashley didn’t know what that meant entirely. The word evaded him.
“You are very good at the guitar, sir,” he said formally, “How long have you been playing?” Ashley sat down on the grass, crossing his legs and brining Locco into his lap. The bunny curled up, looking at the person in the tree with unmoving, emotionless button eyes. One would swear that she was planning world domination in her spear time, she probably had all the blueprints rolled up in her hutch somewhere, and that she had a bazillion soldiers waiting for her orders. Then again, she could just be an ordinary rabbit that slept and chewed grass.
Word count: 1048 C63EFF < Ashley's speech color [/style]
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[style=font-family: century gothic; font-size: 12px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase;]made by zingara of OTE[/style]
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Post by Rocton on Aug 19, 2011 3:56:22 GMT -5
Rocton looked intently at the kid, trying his best not to look menacing and evil, as some had often mistaken him as. The scars probably didn't help either. As the kid moved around, Rocton began to analyze him intently, reading every possible aspect his eye could observe so he could understand this newcomer a bit more, as he often did with anyone interesting he met.
Small, childlike, reliant on the bunny to some degree from the looks of things. The bunny itself was larger than any Rocton had ever seen, barring the fact he'd never seen many outside of the textbooks that teachers slapped onto his face or onto the desk when he was taking a perfectly fine and enjoyable nap.
“It’s a nice day... well, weather wise.I’m not sure I’m having the best of days myself see... I forgot to feed Locco this morning, it was horrible of me, I know, but I don’t forget... actually, this is the first time...”
Based on the way he talked, a stammer here and there in his speech, the kiddo seemed to be unaccustomed or in fear of some sort. What of, Rocton had no idea, but it kinda reminded him of some of the fresh recruits in the child army back in the days. So unsure about themselves and scared ****less pretty easily.
The meister couldn't tell his age either. By his appearance, he looked rather young, inexperienced in the dangers of life and as noted before, completely harmless. With these observations in hand, it wasn't hard to assume that this kid was nothing but a local kid.
“You are very good at the guitar, sir, How long have you been playing?”
Slightly stunned, seemed to be happening a lot today, Rocton quickly responded, "A few years I think. I'm bad with keeping time"
It was true. After having spent so much time sleeping and relaxing, time becomes less of a thing to recall and more of a variable that flies by as quickly as possible. He didn't even know what day it was, just that every other student he recognized from classes was wandering around town so he figured today wasn't a class day. It didn't bother him much, one less thing to worry about if you couldn't remember when you were supposed be wherever, but from the barrage of lectures he got, time seemed to be important to a lot of people, mainly cranky teachers.
"Thank you for calling me sir, but I'm a just a student at the DWMA. What are you doing at here kid? I caught something about a bunny being fed but you can't expect me to believe that thing gets that big on diet of grass....or do they? I wouldn't know..."
color code 0011FF
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Post by ashley on Aug 24, 2011 12:33:03 GMT -5
[style=padding-top: 10px;] [/style] [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #f8f8f8; padding-left: 10px; padding-top: 10px; padding-right: 10px; width: 100px;padding-bottom: 10px;] | [atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #80d0ea; width: 400px;][style=font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; font-size: 77px; z-index: 1; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: -15px; position: relative; margin-top: -10px; color: #ffffff; opacity: .6; alpha:filter(opacity=60%);]double[/style][style=font-family: georgia; font-style: italic; text-transform: lowercase; z-index: 2; font-size: 45px; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 2px; margin-top: -50px; position: relative;]rainbow[/style][style=font-family: century gothic; font-size: 15px; color: #ffffff; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: center;]all the way. what does it mean?[/style] |
[style=margin-top: -65px] [/style] [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #f8f8f8; width: 50px; padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom: 10px;] [style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #b43b3b;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #eaa23c;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #f8fa71;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #47c063;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #6673c4;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #a783ba;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #b43b3b;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #eaa23c;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #f8fa71;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #47c063;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #6673c4;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #a783ba;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #b43b3b;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #eaa23c;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #f8fa71;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #47c063;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #6673c4;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #a783ba;] [/style] | [atrb=width,50,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #f8f8f8; width: 50px; padding-right: 8px; padding-bottom: 10px;] [style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #b43b3b;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #eaa23c;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #f8fa71;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #47c063;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #6673c4;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #a783ba;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #b43b3b;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #eaa23c;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #f8fa71;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #47c063;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #6673c4;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #a783ba;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #b43b3b;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #eaa23c;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #f8fa71;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #47c063;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #6673c4;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #a783ba;] [/style] | [atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #80d0ea; padding: 10px; width: 400px;][style=background-color: #ffffff; opacity: .6; alpha:filter(opacity=60%); font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; color: #000000; width: 250px; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; height: 223px; overflow: auto; margin-bottom: -23px;] Ashley stood there with his bunny, wide-eyed in wonder. He listened to the man intently, anticipating every forthcoming word like a birthday present. He hadn’t meant anyone new in ages, and he was excited to see him, even if he did seem much more different than him. Ashley didn’t care, all he did care about was meeting him; getting to know him and finding out more. It was in his nature, really, to want to know more about people, it was like an urge to him, and others found it slightly strange, but the poor boy didn’t know why. Sometimes people would call him a freak, others times they wouldn’t take notice of all the questions; ‘what’s your anem?’, ‘were do you come from?’, ‘how old are you?’ the usual, although in much more detail and fervent excitement. Sometimes, people ended up simply walking away with a wave of their hand. Ashley was inquisitive; there was no question. How inquisitive can he be is the real question, however. Ashley finds people questioning him very frequently, and he never really did understand the question.
Ashley was contempt with sitting all day and his fellow Shibusen student talk; unfortunately, he stopped talking when he asked about rabbits getting fat on grass. It seemed to be a question even Ashley hadn’t asked himself, and he wondered diligently. He looked at Locco, then to the grass. Could it be true? Could Locco be fine on grass alone? No, that wouldn’t work. Locco loves her carrots. Locco couldn’t be without them. That’s what Ashley thought. He knew his rabbit well enough, but thought of her as a human being rather than a rabbit. He nursed her as if she was a toddler, always running after the mischief-making rodent like a mother to an unruly child. He put up with her, however, simply because he loved her. Her fur made him feel happy when he touched, like going to the theatre made him feel safe. His synaesthesia was a strange, curious little anomaly in his brain. The anomaly –to some people’s disappointment- didn’t transport you to another place in time, but to a whole new aspect of human psychology.
This boy, talking to him from the tree, was probably the most interesting person he’d met. November Black was cool, and so was her friend, but this one seemed more unlike the others; less like them, with their wild, erratic and spontaneous responses to him. He wanted to know someone more logical, more perceptive. Someone who didn’t feel the need to scream cross a football pitch to gain the attention of their distant friend (ha, get it? ‘distant’?). It was unarguable that he too was like that. Only, he’d scream across a football pitch to a bunny. In the middle of a match. Ashley liked to think that Locco was dog-trained, which was painfully untrue, and it made people cringe when he called her like a dog. However, people would never get him to listen, and he would never listen either. He remained steadfast to his loyalty, and never stopped believing that Locco could understand him. He didn’t know how foolish he looked, and he never would.
"Thank you for calling me sir, but I'm a just a student at the DWMA. What are you doing at here kid? I caught something about a bunny being fed but you can't expect me to believe that thing gets that big on diet of grass....or do they? I wouldn't know..." The man said, to Ashley’s shock.
He tilted his head. He never would have guessed it himself; he thought this man was a local guy, working the tills or running a bookshop or a garage or something. Ashley didn’t even think to try and guess how this man thought of him. He would never suspect that he thought him a local; not a minigun that he was. In all fairness, Ashley didn’t like his weapon form. It was wild, untamed and much to brutish for his liking, sometimes he’d find himself wishing he were a feather duster or a ribbon or something more elegant. Ashley looked at the man, then to Locco. She was heavy. Very heavy. Could it be true? He didn’t dare find out, it could hurt Loco and he’d never forgive himself if he did. It was the way his simple little mind worked. If it were a clock, it would have two cogs.
“You’re from Shibusen! I am too!” Ashley boasted with a high, happy little melody. Locco was squeezed briefly. “I’m not sure if Locco could get fat from grass… am I feeding her to much?” He looked to the man with a questioning gaze. Was this one a weapon or a meister? He’d have to ask. Did he have a family member here? Did his parents go do Shibusen? Where does he live? What teachers does he have… he stopped thinking to hard. His head hurt. He let Locco hop a little in one direction, nibbling at the grass again. Ashley put a finger to his lips; maybe the man way right.
“I’m Ashley, by the way! What’s your name?” He stopped himself from asking further questions, now wasn’t the best of times. He felt like something was missing, and it stopped him from being ‘normal’, as one would say.
Word Count: 887
C63EFF < Ashley's speech color [/style]
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[style=font-family: century gothic; font-size: 12px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase;]made by zingara of OTE[/style]
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Post by Rocton on Aug 25, 2011 4:04:15 GMT -5
“You’re from Shibusen! I am too!”
The words completely threw Rocton in a loop. It wasn't the first time, albeit still rare, that his initial analysis of a person was wrong but to think that such a fragile kid was expected to take on kishins seemed absurd at best. That really only left the option of the kid being a weapon. What of, Rocton had no clue. He could only assume that it'd be as harmless as his appearance, maybe a demon feather duster?
The kid went on to talk about his bunny again. It seemed a subject he was fond of. Rocton paid little mind to much of the chatter though as he sank back into deep thought. Just a few moments ago, he'd murder , perhaps fatally injure, someone for a demon weapon to make himself useful. And here was possibly a demon weapon that came in the form of little kid who seemed more feminine than the meister imagined any living being with a penis possible. Was it worth being useful if he would have to put up with that? Granted the kid seemed like a good person but he was a farcry from the military types and serious people from the child army.
Yet there in lay the charm of the naive little boy, he was so innocent it'd be hard to deny him anything. Something about him just radiated a kind of goody two shoes feeling. It seemed enough to revive someone's faith in humanity. This simple kid seemed just like that, a kid. An sweet, foolish and inexperienced kid. It was a refreshing view to see, in what Rocton otherwise considered a gloomy world.
Perhaps, if he was a weapon, or even a meister, he didn't seem like he'd last more than half a second in a fight, let alone a full fledged battle against a kishin egg. It'd be a shame, a true guilt of a sin, to let such a person crumble.
Maybe he was just reasoning to himself as to why he should help him out, after all he was bored a lot lately and if the kid turned out a meister well, Rocton would still help him out.
Still he was getting ahead of himself yet again, especially since his primary assumption was incorrect. Shibusen was an elite school after all and if this kid was in it, then there was a reason for it. Maybe under all this exterior of good natured feelings, this kid was the most cold blooded killer to walk the earth. There was rea..
I’m Ashley, by the way! What’s your name?”
Like a shot rang through his head, the meister snapped back to attention from deep though. He'd jumped up so much in suprise he nearly fell of the branch he was sitting in and as he tried to balance himself he finally realized his hat had fallen.
He quickly looked down and noticed it at the base of the tree. Just a quick jump down later, he bent over to pick it up and slowly place it back on his head as he said
"Name's Rocton. People call me Roc. Nice to meet you Ashely. Mind if I ask what you are? Demon or Meister?"
He looked between the bunny and kid as he spoke, starting to wonder if maybe his question had already been answered while he had been distracted.
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Post by ashley on Aug 31, 2011 6:05:40 GMT -5
[style=padding-top: 10px;] [/style] [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #f8f8f8; padding-left: 10px; padding-top: 10px; padding-right: 10px; width: 100px;padding-bottom: 10px;] | [atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #80d0ea; width: 400px;][style=font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold; font-size: 77px; z-index: 1; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: -15px; position: relative; margin-top: -10px; color: #ffffff; opacity: .6; alpha:filter(opacity=60%);]double[/style][style=font-family: georgia; font-style: italic; text-transform: lowercase; z-index: 2; font-size: 45px; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 2px; margin-top: -50px; position: relative;]rainbow[/style][style=font-family: century gothic; font-size: 15px; color: #ffffff; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: center;]all the way. what does it mean?[/style] |
[style=margin-top: -65px] [/style] [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #f8f8f8; width: 50px; padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom: 10px;] [style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #b43b3b;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #eaa23c;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #f8fa71;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #47c063;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #6673c4;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #a783ba;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #b43b3b;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #eaa23c;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #f8fa71;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #47c063;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #6673c4;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #a783ba;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #b43b3b;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #eaa23c;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #f8fa71;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #47c063;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #6673c4;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #a783ba;] [/style] | [atrb=width,50,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #f8f8f8; width: 50px; padding-right: 8px; padding-bottom: 10px;] [style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #b43b3b;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #eaa23c;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #f8fa71;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #47c063;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #6673c4;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #a783ba;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #b43b3b;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #eaa23c;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #f8fa71;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #47c063;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #6673c4;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #a783ba;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #b43b3b;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #eaa23c;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #f8fa71;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #47c063;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #6673c4;] [/style][style=width: 50px; line-height: 100%; background-color: #a783ba;] [/style] | [atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #80d0ea; padding: 10px; width: 400px;][style=background-color: #ffffff; opacity: .6; alpha:filter(opacity=60%); font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; color: #000000; width: 250px; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; height: 223px; overflow: auto; margin-bottom: -23px;] Ashley could tell the boy was deep in thought and assumed that he wasn’t particularly listening to him, but he rambled on anyway. His favourite topic, no less. Seemingly not anybody else’s hobby, and that upset Ashley in a very slight, microscopic proportions, because it didn’t stop him from talking. In fact, it made him eager to talk even more. Who knew, it might make them interested and he could start a bunny sanctuary with somebody and make loads of money from it. However, it was more about the bunnies and less about the money in which his heart truly laid. He loved the big-eared rodents and treated them like a pet dog. There was not one rabbit he didn’t like, and the French made him sad. The idea of eating a bunny was probably the worst nightmare anyone could ever impose of the boy, suggesting what it tasted like is even worse. He might slap you if your not careful, even then it would be like being run into by a fly. He’s not made for fighting with people, more so running away and cowering in a hole until he died. That didn’t swing well with Mother Nature, and so she had decided to make him a minigun demon weapon. It turned out that that didn’t make him the slightest better suited to survival in the rat race of Shibusen. It made him highly desired as a weapon, but it was another question altogether whether he would fight or not. His fight or flight instinct was strong. And it was usually flight. Actually it was always flight, and there wasn’t ever any questions asked about it. Sometimes it was a question of whether to keep him alive and embarrassing himself or letting him die and making sure nothing like this never happened all over again. For once, Mother Nature had failed. This wasn’t going to work.
Ashley watched as the mans hat fell to the floor, and it seemed that he hadn’t notice it. Ashley continued to speak, and had introduced himself when he felt appropriate, which was when he had decided that the man was going to walk away any minute from his rambling on bunnies. When he had said he was from Shibusen, he could see the shock in the mans eyes. It had made Ashley giggle slightly. Of course no-one would ever expect a little boy like him to even be able to survive in the heat of Death City, let alone in a fight against hordes of evil and madness. His mind was weak and he wouldn’t be able to stand up against any kind of Kishin wavelength, no matter the situation. Ashley himself wasn’t sure how people could go about throwing themselves into fights and expect tow in; for him it was a lose/lose situation. There was no such thing as winning to Ashley, only losing. Then again he’d never had a Meister, and maybe he’d be able to actually do some irreparable damage.
The man introduced himself as Rocton, or commonly known as Roc. Ashley smiled. His name reminded him of rock music, and he took an instant liking to him. His synaesthesia kicked in and he saw white and blue and he was happy. He smiled even wider, his eyes shining. He looked like he’d taken a dose of ecstasy. Not that he even knew what that was, and he wouldn’t be able to guess. He knew the word but not the name of said drug. Ashley stepped up to Rocton a little, repeating his name in his head because it made him happy. Rocton. Rock n’ Roll, light rock, Foo Fighters! Then he mentioned demons and Ashley’s face turned to one of horror. Demon? Demon! He wasn’t a demon was he. Last time he checked he didn’t have horns or red skin, and he most certainly not come from hell, or at least he hoped not. If he did then it would shock not only him, but everybody he knew. He was like a little cherub without the bow and arrow and with a lot more clothes.
“I’m not a demon, mister Rocton!” he shrieked, letting Locco got and standing up in some kind of fury. “I’m a weapon! I’m a…” He paused. Perhaps he was a demon? Considering his weapon form was so ghastly and over powered it seemed almost impossible and he didn’t want that. He thought to himself, a finger on is chin, eyes to the sky gently. It was like him to stop and think mid sentence, but he usually picked it up again and wouldn’t shut up. Fortunately for Rocton, he’d given Ashley the perfect self debate, and had also held off the reveal of his demon weapon form, perhaps not in Rocton’s favour. Ashley’s knowledge of demons and hell ran through his head, and he speculated. Was he a demon? It was a few seconds of critical, analysing thinking. He scanned through what he knew about Heaven and Hell, Hindu, Christianity, Aztec, Rastafarian, Shinto, Ashanti, Lugbara, everything. He concluded that -all racial aspects aside- that he wasn’t a demon, and he smiled. He did a small twirl and bent down to kiss Locco, who then proceeded to curl up at the base of Rocton’s tree, nibbling fanatically at the grass around it. It was right to say she was a happy bunny, and that she wasn’t going to move anytime soon.
Ashley looked up at Rocton, looking him in the eyes with a sweet little childlike shine. By the look on Rocton’s face -which was hard to tell- he could be thinking anything while Ashley paused.
Ashley decided he should go ahead and tell him, and he felt much better after he did. The way he said it was not so dramatic or subtle as most other people would put it. Ashley made it straight to the point and like a spear. It shouldn’t really lose it’s meaning, if it did, you’re a retard.
“I’m a weapon! I’m a minigun!”
Word count: 1005
C63EFF-Ashley's speech color [/style]
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[style=font-family: century gothic; font-size: 12px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase;]made by zingara of OTE[/style]
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Post by Rocton on Sept 3, 2011 2:29:35 GMT -5
Like he was being faced by the ghost, the little kid standing in front of Roc grew into a visible panic quite quickly after hearing the word "demon" come from Rocton's mouth. The kids eyes quickly went from that of joy from talking about bunnies to visible stress and worry, akin to that of a mother who just found out she was going to give birth. As Roc began to question his words trying to find out why the word demon would flip such a switch, Ashley's let out a shriek to proclaim as “I'm not a demon, mister Rocton!” and for those brief seconds that this young Shibusen student raised his voice to an ex-child soldier, Rocton feared that he was about to see a gargantuan tank arise from this kid and destroy Death city at an unholy rage caused by thinking he was called a demon.
Then Ashley spoke again, “I'm a weapon! I'm a...” He trailed off, as his mood shifted for what seemed to be the hundredth time in the past two minutes. Rocton just stood there, stunned. Had a random wanderer observed the pair, they would have probably assumed that Rocton was now just a statue stuck in a convoluted facial expression of fear and interest and the little kid was a devilish witch of some sort.
It seemed like forever that Rocton, the newly made statue, stood there waiting. Ashley was in another deep thought and in his face, it could be seen that he was recalling something. Maybe he really was a demon, or a kishin maybe? Then the meister realized, here he was scared immobile by a little kid and his bunny twice in a single day. Here he was, unable to say a word, despite the fact that he was no stranger to death or it's presence. The bunny itself, maybe it was an evil overlord, maybe it knew more about what was gonna happen next.
Like a miracle, the kid moved again, not in rage, but in joy. He twirled around in a blissful joy and he even kissed his bunny, who proceeded to curl up under the tree. It probably knew more of what was going than anyone else at this point. Ashley looked up, straight into the eyes of Rocton, and smiled. Was it a death stare? Was the smile a warning? Rocton could only try to smile back, a weak and unimpressive smile.
At this point, the back of his head was sweating so profusely that after this whole ordeal, to avoid dehydration, a gallon of water needed to be consumed to make up for all the lost fluids. Finally, the answer that had cause Roc so much sacrifice came and the kid spoke again
“I'm a weapon. I'm a minigun”
In that singular second, Roc knew that god must have had a twisted plan for his future and this whole day was probably well deserved karma. That's all it was....a twisted plan... a series of events made to point at Roc and just laugh. So that's what Roc did. After standing still, moving not a single muscle cell, he let out a laugh that shook the leaves of the trees around and he held his stomach as he fell backwards to sit in his joyful moment.
He stopped, looked at Ashley, tears of laughter springing from his eyes, and said “You know Ashley, you're the first person in a long time to make me laugh. Something tells me that whatever brought you here to meet me today, it was for a good reason. That being said....” a hand outstretched, and the key words were spoken.
“Partner?”
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