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Post by AIDEN GRANT LITTLE on Apr 27, 2012 12:04:01 GMT -5
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[style=text-align: center]  AN ACHE I STILL REMEMBER [/style][style=font-size: 10px; line-height: 10px; padding: 25px; margin-top: -10px; color: CCCCCC;]
Aiidddennn..
For some creepy reason, the voices in the boys head always seemed to show up even when he didn't expect them. He had been innocently wandering the grounds, exploring his new school, minding his own business. They also seemed to turn up when he least wanted them to. Which, he never did, but when he hoped and prayed they would miraculously disappear, they always seemed to be just around the corner.
You will soon join us. You must face the inevitable.
With an obviously sick look, the boy plopped down on a little bench, and tried desperately to calm himself. He told himself over and over that he was fine, nothing was wrong with him, he was normal. And everything would go away, right?
Aiden quickly pulled himself together, creating a pretty awesome facade of normalcy, whatever that was. He looked like the typical teenager, slightly interested in his surroundings. Which, he realized, he had forgotten to observe, seeing as he was a bit... distracted. Looking around, he came to the conclusion that this was like a soccer field. The grassy place was dotted with a couple kids messing around with a soccer ball, some excellent, some not-so-good. Nevertheless, Aiden found this site extremely boring. He wasn't an athletic person, see. He was more of the holeupinhisroomandpaint kinda guy.
He was perched on the edge of the bench, leaning his cheek on one fist, resting his elbow from that same arm on his leg. The trademark teenager pose of boredness. He was watching some guy do a couple pretty awesome trips with the black-and-white checkered ball, though, he didn't look as if he was particularly interested in it. Which he wasn't.
Instead, he was thinking about this school. The grounds were, undeniably, pretty. The people seemed nice enough, even if he hadn't met too many yet. They all seemed to like partying, and, while Aiden himself didn't mind it, he would much rather be causing mischief, or sketching.
Liiightbulb. With the ghost of a smile, the boy reached into his back pocket and pulled out a very small, slightly-worn-looking spiral notepad. Flipping to the nearest blank page (it was filled with different drawings), he pulled a pencil from the rings that held the pad together. He examined the soccer player for a while, observing his torso, which was quite difficult when the guy kept moving around. Did you expect anything different from an athlete, Aiden?
And then the pencil began flying across the small page, capturing rough action shots of a soccer player in action. They were quite good, though he had always been an awful critique of his work. He was a perfectionist, I guess you could say. Once he had the sketch of the guy, he began filling in lights and darks where he deemed necessary. So lost was this boy in his own little art world, he wouldn't have noticed anyone else even if they started to breathe down his neck.
tagged; dare. words; 495. outfit; here
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Post by DARIUS ABEL CARTER on Apr 28, 2012 14:32:37 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i141.photobucket.com/albums/r71/maggiesrpstuff/BACKGROUNDS/fk5qwnjpg.png); width: 457px; padding-top: 30; padding-bottom: 30; -moz-border-radius: 35 35 35 35; -webkit-border-radius: 35 35 35 35;]hi ยป FIRE IT UP When he had first arrived on Grace Island, Dare had made it a point to scope out the basketball courts. They were with all of the other sports 'fields,' fairly close to the soccer fields as well as the tennis courts and anything else that required concrete. They weren't exactly great -there was exactly one court, with faded paint and hoops lacking entire nets- but they were there. Dare was one of the regulars out there shooting hoops, sometimes with other kids, sometimes solo. It was one of the few things on the island he purely enjoyed, and it was Dare's respite. Plus, should he decide to ditch the gloves, the memories on the basketball court weren't too bad, really. Mostly, there was happiness there.
Today had been a day where he needed to blow off some steam. There had been some bullshit in class, and it had just left a sour taste in Dare's mouth. He decided to skip on over to the courts immediately after school, and after several hours of awesome shirtless playing, he was satisfied and pacified. He was heading on back to his dorm to shower and change and continue on with life when he happened to notice a kid just... sitting there on the bench. He blinked. It was pretty unusual for guys to go and sit out there and watch the players with such a disinterested look on their face. Most kids either jumped up to join or avoided the fields completely. Dare's curiosity was peaked.
He sauntered over to the boy, hoping he wasn't too grossly sweaty, and said a polite hello. Before he offered a hand to shake, Dare mentally double checked that his gloves were on. It was just rude to get a glimpse of someone's past before meeting them, after all. "Hi there. My name's Darius. What are you doing out here, all by yourself like this?"Dare's voice was polite and dripping with Southern. It wasn't until he was standing there with his arm extended like a dope that Dare noticed the guy's sketchpad and pencil flying. Oh. So that was why he was out there. Life examples and all that. Huh. Well this was awkward now. Dare was still standing with his hand out; he couldn't just... unextend it. That was rude.
click for outfit. Dare is a dope. |
[/td][/tr][/table] THIS TEMPLATE WAS MADE BY WILMETTA OF CAUTION. [/center] |
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Post by AIDEN GRANT LITTLE on Apr 29, 2012 19:18:36 GMT -5
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[style=text-align: center] AN ACHE I STILL REMEMBER [/style][style=font-size: 10px; line-height: 10px; padding: 25px; margin-top: -10px; color: CCCCCC;]
On any normal day, the boy would have probably been holed up in his dorm, working on his latest project. He hadn't yet gotten a place to dedicate as his art shop, so his poor roommate had to deal with all of this guys crazy for the time being. He swore to himself he would find a place to call 'home' and lug his supplies and all his crap out there. But for now, that would have to do.
Today wasn't a normal day, though. Aiden had had a bad day to begin with. First of all, he stayed up way to late working on whateverthehell he was working on. He didn't even know what it was yet. One thing led another, and he never actually went to sleep. If you didn't count dozing in class, that is. So, as you can probably imagine, he was basically like a walking zombie. Poor guy.
Considering, he didn't have the energy to anything but sit. And that was saying something for Aiden. Usually, he was a little bundle of energy, expressing it fervently on whatever he found. Like a teacher's chalkboard. Pfft, chalkboards. Who had them, now-a-days? This school seemed too not care enough to install a simple dry-erase board. Their loss.
The half-asleep boy was so wrapped up in his artwork that he actually jumped a bit when he heard a voice. At first, he figured the guy wasn't talking to him. But when he raised his head, he noticed the outstretched hand, and the look of expectancy-turned-awkwardness. Aiden couldn't for the life of him figure out why the guy - Darius, was his name - was looking awkward. See, he didn't have a very good awkward meter. Like, ever. Nothing was awkward in the slightly off-kilter eyes of Aiden Little. No, sir.
Aiden stared at the boy, slightly confused for a second. He appeared as though Darius had just woken him up from sleep-walking, which wasn't too far from the truth. Then he blinked and a small smile graced his face. Well, he wasn't in the best of moods, but he would always jump at the chance to make friends, even if he wasn't very good at it. "I'm Aiden," his own voice was blanketed with a thick Irish accent. "And I'm just enjoying the day..." He faltered for a second, staring at the clouds that had begun to form out of freaking nowhere. Earlier, it had been a nice day. Sunny, a slight cool breeze, the works. Oh, dear. Who was making Jane angry, now?
tagged; dare. words; 426. outfit; here
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