I am dropping my Valanian Character and is editing my human as per request of 'ikiru'
Name: Perseus Wolfe Age: 10 (On special request) Gender: Male Valanians or Humans: Human Power(If in Valen): None Description: A sweet little boy. Average height of 10 year old. A simple guy who don't have home. He picks pockets on the streets of New York. Other info: None Up for love?: Looking for someone who could help him
Will: Water up, water down. I sit at the edge of the well and make the water float up, then drop it with a splash. I wish we would get out of this place. I think. I flip my blond hair out of my eyes and look at the town hall. I grab another handful of water as I wait for my friend.
Danielle sat in her house, looking out the window at the well he was sitting at. She sighed, drawing the curtains as she backed away. She lit her hands on fire, staring at the blue flames. "I'm sick of it here," she whispered to the flames.
"We all have perceptions of ourselves that others may find untrue or inaccurate." -NoirLumiere
I'm pretty sure that Starbucks at four AM is the equivalent of purgatory. So far we've had two customers, one of them drunk and the other one elderly. The latter is still here, gone from nursing an extra dark roast to sleeping. Maybe he's dead. That would be awkward. I'm just sort of waiting it out, waiting for the 5:30 to 9:00 rush of middle-class suits looking for their morning fix on the way to the office or the school or wherever they earn twenty-five dollars an hour and pretend to be happy.
I wonder sometimes if I'm still depressed, or if this is just what living is supposed to feel like. When I get off at noon I'm probably going to smoke a lot, write a lot, eat some ramen noodles, and get drunk until I'm sober enough to come back in for the early shift. And that's just fine.
Who am I kidding? I'm sure that in any world, in any universe, at any time, there are people who are much happier than me. Or at least I'd like to think so.
Molly: I glare at the paper on my desk. I hate Calc. I am ahead in math for my age, but it is just so confusing. PLus my teacher gave us, like, 30 problems to do by tomorrow. It's 1:00 in the morning. I also had to do a Spanish project and an essay for English. I pull out my phone and text my best friend, Arielle.
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I sit up suddenly. I must have fallen asleep. I check my clock. 3:25, I better go to bed. I'm only half way done with my homework, but I'll just do it during my free period.
I've been drawing what I think might be the perfect re-creation, thus far, of Coach Sandler's face when I was five minutes late yesterday, and it's starting to take up more than the paragraph margin between my Calc notes and my notes from Bio II. In another minute I'll have reached the point of no return and I'll have to choose between leaving Coach half-faced or covering up a series of probably-important formulae. The math test tomorrow or this pretty kick-ass sketch.
I'm saved from my indecision by a poke in the back. I turn around to see Connie Demico's butherface and begin the new battle between making eye contact and staring at her rack.
"Are you going to the party at my place this weekend?"
"Uh... probably. I'll at least drop by after the meet."
"Awesomesauce. Are you gonna, like, bring anybody?"
"Probably not."'
She looks really happy, all of a sudden. I turn back around, but not fast enough.
"Arthur. Something you'd like to share with the class?"
"No sir. I'm sorry."
"Then please, return to your doodling and not paying attention."
A couple people laugh. I feel the blood rush to my face.
"Sorry, sir."
I flip through to find my notes for this class. What class is it? Oh God, what period is it? I'm lost, and if I don't make C rule I'm going to fail and then everything will go wrong and I won't go to college and it'll all be my fault and mom and dad will...
I find the notes, remember the class. American Lit.
I sigh to myself and begin frantically copying the board and wishing I had a smoke right about now. Life is a drag.
Molly: I got killed in math. Not literally, but Mr. Rosenburg made a huge deal out of it, saying I should work harder and stuff. I mean, I do try in his class, I have a B. It's not that easy being one of the only 10th graders in Calculus. The other kid in my class is... um... Arthur... I think.
"Okay everyone, here are notes to review for the test tomorrow."
I scribble down what he says, glancing at the other students, most of which look bored, but are somehow doing well in the class.
Damn, what did he just say. I look at the guy who sits next to me's notes. No help.
"That is the important thing on the test!" Mr Rosenburg says.
I had enough money to buy some food. Later, I should pick-pocket some tourists. I went on to the shop, on my way I saw some thugs looting a store. Ah! They had guns and all. Maybe one day I get hands on a gun, then I should hit for something big. Soon the police was at the store and started firing on thugs, my thoughts vanished as soon they had come. May be my life would go on forever like this...
Angel stared down something across the way. As a bus pulled in, she took a drag of her cigarette watching the crowd bustle on into the vehicle. With a screech of it's tires, the monstrous block of metal lurched forward into traffic. She watched high-end accountants rush their way down New York's busy bustling sidewalk traffic, young lovers making their romantic way through the city of lights and culture.
New York City was the ideal living place for the "pop culture unit" as she referred to it as.
Angel hated the city, it was as simple as that. She nearly wanted to strangle half the people, and the other half she could care less about. Flicking the hair off her shoulder, she stands up, grabbing her purse. She wasn't one for all this...Bullshit of high heels and fancy dressing.
Angel began walking down the street towards the central park, and walked towards the bridge, watching the water below her as she took a long, harsh drag of her Newport brand cigarette. Exhaling slowly, the smoke seems to circulate around her and she pushes the air particles away from her, not wanting to wreak of the cigarettes too badly. Not that she cared if others smelled it, just more the fact she had her hands by her face a lot during the day and didn't need smelly Cigg-Fingers.
Her glass-blue eyes flicker upwards towards the sky for a moment then back down towards the river. For a little less than a week, she'd been flying by in this town. She had left everyone of her Valen's behind to escape to New York City and she was already sick of the culture, the atmosphere. It's not like she was really drawing any attention to herself anyway, she looked normal. She just happened to have a very, terrifying secret power.
[ooc - Spoiler
Central Park, New York City.]
Many long for immortality yet don't know what to do on a rainy Sunday afternoon
Will "Hey!" Sam called from the road. I look up and nod, before heading over to where he stands, waiting for the train. "I have something amazing to tell you, but we can't talk here..." He whispers.
Once we get to his house he looks at me. "We can get out of here." "What do you mean?" I ask. "In three days, a group of teenagers are going to get out of Valen. They are going to... um, a city called New York. Do you want to come? I'm going." "Hell yeah! Oh my god, It will be amazing to get out of here."
Spoiler
Animal-- That's great! The Valens are coming, as you can see in my post
