Entry tags:
contemplating re-entering
amatomnes.
Well, well. Can't seem to get enough of me, can you? Using me for your amusement—I ought to punish you severely. Yet, I could admit your offer is enticing... Flesh to cut. Bones to break. Faces to step on.
As long as the character count doesn't dwindle by the time you bring me back around, I would comply.
No slacking; give purpose to your holiday weekend.
—And as for you, fellow actors, are you sure you're ready to take me on? I'm no stray dog.
As long as the character count doesn't dwindle by the time you bring me back around, I would comply.
No slacking; give purpose to your holiday weekend.
—And as for you, fellow actors, are you sure you're ready to take me on? I'm no stray dog.

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There's enough maniacs here as it is.
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I'm the most sensible one of the bunch and that's the problem.
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If you're anything like your brother, then I would accept the statement—unless you wish to prove me wrong.
[ that'd be entertaining for sure. ]
I am super-shy excuse me for any fail o////o
[Mixed feelings. Caught somewhere between mild assurance at the sight of a familiar face (someone from home) and deepest distaste. He may feel lost cut adrift unanchored but he's uncertain that he wants this particular albatross dumped around his neck]
Miss Frühling. I doubt that this is the place for you.
the ic response would be you're gio you're born to fail but
2/2 i'm nicer than früh. /strokes
not entirely, anyway.but heh. look at him warning her. cute. by which she means gross. ]Now what makes you say that, little dog? I've been there before. [ except when she goes back, she won't remember... ]
that answer amused me more than it should <3
[Hahaha well. Already her response has a little of that assurance fading, dispersing. Hands curl into impotent fists at his sides, there's the barest hint of teeth in his voice and yet his tone is measured enough. Polite enough. Just.
No need to tell her that the idea of her in such a place, with such requirements leaves him feeling vaguely disgusted]
Is that so. I wouldn't have thought it would be to your taste.
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imperfect pretend, and she can't stand imperfections.
in contrast, her voice is like a blade being pulled from its sheath, sharp, glinting, boasting strength, yet all the more suave. this is how you do it. ]
I never said it was to my taste, but you die if you do not adapt.
[ now, critical, mocking: ] So, are you still having relationships with yourself or paying for necessary warmth? Old habits just can't be changed, especially when it comes to you.
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[Irritation flares whitehot in him, the familiar itch in fingers and palms that speaks of gathering violence (though it'll remain internal, silent. He knows better than that). It has his brow tightening jaw hardening teeth clenching, a flickerflash of bone-deep hate as thick and black as tar.
She's hit the mark directly, cut right down to the core of things but there's no surprise in that. Soft susurrations of embarrassment, a creeping heat along his neck (beneath the collars, both of them) but he keeps it to himself.
When he answers, he endeavors to keep his feelings from bleeding over into his voice]
I fail to see how that's any business of yours.
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It isn't. Even if my mundane plans to exclude my memories when she drops be back upon that wretched island, I will still know. You think you're a puzzle, but you're no simpler than a pawn. Always moving forward by a single step.
Don't take it personally, though. Some people are just born bad at being bad. [ deeper, more loathing: ] If anyone is to blame…
[ she lets some silence sink in, thought she's really just taking some time to observe her shoes. there's some dirt on them. ]
Anyway, unless you have anything else to say, say it now.
sorry this is so late, I'm slow with non-game tags >.>
[words like a slap in the face, that have all his inadequacies and shake rising up in him, attempting to swallow him whole. dark heartbeat, his bitterness tangling there inside his chest like barbed wire snagsnarling at flesh and bones and blood alike. there are things he could say, words he could spit out at her like so much venom but they would only slide from her skin like they're nothing, he knows.
he doesn't move forward at all. there is no forward for him, only the past like whispering ghosts that cleave to his skin and drag him down and keep him in the depths. there is nothing else.
So he just laughs and it's hard and it's brittle as splintered bones]
The last thing I'd want to do is keep you from more important things.
[he shouldn't have answered her at all]
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This time I'll cut you down
you little bi—. Nurse your blood. I'd vivid red for my canvas.no subject
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