Post by bell1127 on Dec 24, 2010 23:16:13 GMT -5
I usually dont write this well or long, but this was my best post. I am hanna, i'm 18, and i love me some roleplaying 
Noise.
It bustled through the atomosphere like a toxin to what was once beautiful. Busy mothers hustling crying childern and men talking about sports. What was once sky blue burned deep red as the sun receeded through the tall grey buildings that seemed to slip and attach themselves to the dull pavement of the same shade. Cracks that Burnt icily into stepping patterns of the people surrounding him. He; who walked slowly and steathfully like a panther. Amusement flew out of full, almost feminine lips that parted and revealed a smooth medium toned voice. Pale peach skin that pulled apart slowly, like the inside of the most forbidden fruit in the garden of Eden. To take one bite would be death, and thus the same for a man that seemed one in a million. Addicting, burning... Yet it was owned by someone so looked down on...No one could resist one look. Black hair swayed lazily like the blackest star-deprived night. Like a moon resisting a suns charms in the lightless eclipse. Ice, he was irresistable both cold and skin scorching hot.
People do as People do; they followed the idiotic path life seemed to lay out for them, circling around the fools in white silk of malicious tease. A suicide here, a child being born there. His Van covered feet stepped lightly between the people that cried out sells, of humans and vampires alike hustling and chatting eachother up as they both pleased. Moronic kind of way to live, in a lie. The boys pace quickened drastically as something cut through the usual type of racket. Screams, a womans. They were panicked and rushed against casual tones of baritone men and soft voiced girls. His stride grew even and calm as crimson eyes burnt a new tune. It was the tune of a hero, something that could only be tattoed into your heart by a set of morals that surpassed even the best in some ways, and died in others.
Noise.
Ripping through eardrums, it could not be muffled. A crying woman that had apparently lost her seven year old boy. The air suddenly burned his throat as Sin let scents attach themselves to his palate. Rising softly, returning to an initial position as different things drug to the crimson mouth. Blonde boy at 2'o'clock. Being dragged into the ally by two familar looking demons. Yeah...Once again. Idiots. Those two were the ones that had attacked Selene that year or so again. Another chuckle erupted. Fine. If they wanted to play badguys, let the childern play. All results of foolishness would be pain. He allowed himself to fall into a halfcrouch and slip into the ally seemingly unnoticed. Two backs covered by rough looking clothes hauled a crying child into the deeper depths of a black and slate. Screams slipped as two wide blue eyes gazed upon Sin. They were saying help me.
Simply put, thats what he was planning on doing. Saving the day and being the hero and such. It was time to close the gap between the three men, and a simple sweep of the legs was all it took. Approximity three strides, one car length. Five feet. Half of ten. Two arms... Grabbed. Sin turned one of the laughing demons around and threw a punch. That was when the real commontion began and as the first fell to the ground, the second turned in a type of shock that was more fear then anything. Blackrose was a name not to be trifled with, everyone worth a militaries respect would know that. Tyrone Blackrose, Armond Blackrose, and Finally the son of the legend. Sin. Somewhere deep in the Crimson sespools did memories of bloody wars and betrayel did tall men stand proudly in shades of army green and military black. These were what made up every stride and movement of arms. This was what made him punch and bite until the two let go. He was one of those proud fighters, and damn it showed.
"Your Alright now."
Annoyance flickered when the young boy arrogantly kicked his shin and turned away. Okay. Maybe this punk wanst worth saving.
Silence.
To walk out of the ally was a nerve wracking thing. Nothing can quite compare to the bloody faced boy holding a injured child in equally crimson covered arms. They were the same shade of the eyes that blinked painfully through a somewhat swolen exporsure. The selfless act weighed more then what a bodily fluid could loose. Somebody, in this case a young man, was safe. Thats all that mattered when the final bell tolled and the world ended. He got to live a few more years, like intended. A woman was left shaking in the middle of the crowd as her son was carried out by a ruffian like himself. It was a disguisting thing to have to pay thanks to such an ally cat of a teenager. With wide eyes like a horrified bystander, she ran and picked up her child. Throwing Sin a look.
" Get off him, your messing up his clothing."
To this the bloodied up young man just shrugged. This kind of treatment was very often in the mutt's life. It always ended up into some kind of scold instead of an act of apperciation. This is what made a hero, This is what made a dark knight. Cold and isolated to the world and surrounded by bitter looks. They stared at him as he walked away quietly, holding a slashed stoumach calmly.
" SUCKS TO BE YOU"
cried out the boy, laughing...
Damn. He was right.
Noise.
It bustled through the atomosphere like a toxin to what was once beautiful. Busy mothers hustling crying childern and men talking about sports. What was once sky blue burned deep red as the sun receeded through the tall grey buildings that seemed to slip and attach themselves to the dull pavement of the same shade. Cracks that Burnt icily into stepping patterns of the people surrounding him. He; who walked slowly and steathfully like a panther. Amusement flew out of full, almost feminine lips that parted and revealed a smooth medium toned voice. Pale peach skin that pulled apart slowly, like the inside of the most forbidden fruit in the garden of Eden. To take one bite would be death, and thus the same for a man that seemed one in a million. Addicting, burning... Yet it was owned by someone so looked down on...No one could resist one look. Black hair swayed lazily like the blackest star-deprived night. Like a moon resisting a suns charms in the lightless eclipse. Ice, he was irresistable both cold and skin scorching hot.
People do as People do; they followed the idiotic path life seemed to lay out for them, circling around the fools in white silk of malicious tease. A suicide here, a child being born there. His Van covered feet stepped lightly between the people that cried out sells, of humans and vampires alike hustling and chatting eachother up as they both pleased. Moronic kind of way to live, in a lie. The boys pace quickened drastically as something cut through the usual type of racket. Screams, a womans. They were panicked and rushed against casual tones of baritone men and soft voiced girls. His stride grew even and calm as crimson eyes burnt a new tune. It was the tune of a hero, something that could only be tattoed into your heart by a set of morals that surpassed even the best in some ways, and died in others.
Noise.
Ripping through eardrums, it could not be muffled. A crying woman that had apparently lost her seven year old boy. The air suddenly burned his throat as Sin let scents attach themselves to his palate. Rising softly, returning to an initial position as different things drug to the crimson mouth. Blonde boy at 2'o'clock. Being dragged into the ally by two familar looking demons. Yeah...Once again. Idiots. Those two were the ones that had attacked Selene that year or so again. Another chuckle erupted. Fine. If they wanted to play badguys, let the childern play. All results of foolishness would be pain. He allowed himself to fall into a halfcrouch and slip into the ally seemingly unnoticed. Two backs covered by rough looking clothes hauled a crying child into the deeper depths of a black and slate. Screams slipped as two wide blue eyes gazed upon Sin. They were saying help me.
Simply put, thats what he was planning on doing. Saving the day and being the hero and such. It was time to close the gap between the three men, and a simple sweep of the legs was all it took. Approximity three strides, one car length. Five feet. Half of ten. Two arms... Grabbed. Sin turned one of the laughing demons around and threw a punch. That was when the real commontion began and as the first fell to the ground, the second turned in a type of shock that was more fear then anything. Blackrose was a name not to be trifled with, everyone worth a militaries respect would know that. Tyrone Blackrose, Armond Blackrose, and Finally the son of the legend. Sin. Somewhere deep in the Crimson sespools did memories of bloody wars and betrayel did tall men stand proudly in shades of army green and military black. These were what made up every stride and movement of arms. This was what made him punch and bite until the two let go. He was one of those proud fighters, and damn it showed.
"Your Alright now."
Annoyance flickered when the young boy arrogantly kicked his shin and turned away. Okay. Maybe this punk wanst worth saving.
Silence.
To walk out of the ally was a nerve wracking thing. Nothing can quite compare to the bloody faced boy holding a injured child in equally crimson covered arms. They were the same shade of the eyes that blinked painfully through a somewhat swolen exporsure. The selfless act weighed more then what a bodily fluid could loose. Somebody, in this case a young man, was safe. Thats all that mattered when the final bell tolled and the world ended. He got to live a few more years, like intended. A woman was left shaking in the middle of the crowd as her son was carried out by a ruffian like himself. It was a disguisting thing to have to pay thanks to such an ally cat of a teenager. With wide eyes like a horrified bystander, she ran and picked up her child. Throwing Sin a look.
" Get off him, your messing up his clothing."
To this the bloodied up young man just shrugged. This kind of treatment was very often in the mutt's life. It always ended up into some kind of scold instead of an act of apperciation. This is what made a hero, This is what made a dark knight. Cold and isolated to the world and surrounded by bitter looks. They stared at him as he walked away quietly, holding a slashed stoumach calmly.
" SUCKS TO BE YOU"
cried out the boy, laughing...
Damn. He was right.
