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Post by rhett osanne. on Feb 14, 2010 13:07:05 GMT -5
- - - - - Rhett was utterly, totally bored out of his mind. Through it all, he did manage to entertain himself as long as Dolores was working and happy, but right now he couldn't handle it. Even reading didn't turn him off the yearning to get off his ass and go do something. So it had been with this in mind that he'd gone to the building, using the id card he'd made at home on photoshop, using Dolores's as a model to get in, climbing seven flights of stairs to get all the way to the top of the building and then finally sitting down, energy evaporated with no intention of coming back to him any time soon. Work was a lost thought, given no chance to facilitate and inhabit his mind because frankly, he could take time off whenever the fuck he wanted and it wouldn't matter. Nothing mattered to him except the fact that Dolores was happy, however corny and retarded that sounded. He was totally, one hundred percent whipped and he knew it, so he didn't try to deny it. It was with careful ignorance that he skirted around the subject and managed to usually avoid it. But the roof was bringing back a series of memories. They'd fucked on nearly every surface it had to provide, and he still kept coming back, mostly when it was nighttime and he didn't know where else to go to ease his mind. Rhett couldn't call his mother like most spawn did when they were curious, he couldn't ask his brothers or his sister, because he didn't trust them enough with his thoughts. His father would think he was stupid for behaving in the same way he had, and then setting down instead of getting married for convenience and continuing on with his work patterns. There was no one he ever spoke to besides Dolores, and the problem was.... well, Dolores.
- - - - - He didn't know if what he was doing was right. Relationships were never his forte, despite the fact that he'd been paid to conjure them for those who were otherwise incapable in a previous life. Rhett was lost on a path of no return and he knew it, but how did he stop himself from sliding too far down that road? What if he hurt her in any way? He didn't want to, but the one other time he'd ever dated someone he'd run around on her, and then she'd nearly taken her own life. Which was bad. He didn't think Doli would.. but still. The only way out of traumatizing her for life would be to leave, but he didn't want to do that either because he knew it was the worst idea he'd ever had, he knew as soon as he did he might as well be dead and that she'd want him dead.. he couldn't take that. So it was with these thoughts swirling in his pretty head that he climbed to the top of the roof again, and it was these thoughts that, two and a half hours into the night, kept him sitting there. He was perched on the ledge, wide enough for him to lay back, his slender legs dangling off the side as one shoe slowly began to slip off of his socked foot. And that was when he heard the door open, and unfamiliar footsteps moving towards him, some recognition obviously present. Turning slightly, he let his blue eyes fall on them, his line set in a firm line. “It's rude to interrupt people in a pensive state,”
[/color][/i] he stated dully, uninterested in whatever it was this person had to offer. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - words: 610. [/i][/b] [/center] [/blockquote][/font][/size][/blockquote] |
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Post by ray valence-meyer. on Feb 15, 2010 10:41:49 GMT -5
 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/size] CORRUPTED BLOOD RUNS THROUGH MY VEINS
I GAVE UP EVERYTHING FOR FAME
I GOT WHAT YOU WANT IT'S JUST DON'T STOP- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/size][/center] Feh. At least Ray had an excuse to be in this building -- he had an article to write. Hopefully an article that would bump him up a few pegs in the journalists' dog-eat-dog world. Then again, the dog-eat-dog world didn't belong to just writers. It seemed that more and more drama was slowly making itself known in Paris. Companies merging seemed to do that to any city. A gorgeous place like France seemed to be no exception. He strode slowly up the staircase, his left hand gripping at the handrail. Black combat boots clunked noisily with each step, shattering the otherwise peaceful silence of the night. If anyone was startled that someone opened the door to the roof at this point, they were obviously deaf. Ray didn't care if he made a lot of noise, though. Attention normally didn't bother him. Honestly, he would have been a model if he had the patience for imbeciles. But, unfortunately, he didn't. And he figured that going into a writing profession would lessen his chances of butting heads with a total idiot.
He wasn't quite sure why he wanted to go to the roof. There wasn't anything to do there, obviously. The moon was shining brightly over the city, a giant pearl in a sea of blue velvet. Stars were scattered haphazardly throughout the sky like glitter. It could have been the perfect image, if it weren't for the stench of industry floating through the air. It could have been the perfect image, if it weren't for the pillars of smoke that would surely start to turn the navy sky to gray. The smoke would kill the stars, too, no doubt. Maybe even the moon. And the almighty sun after that. Humans were slowly destroying themselves. It was a disgusting way to kill things off. Kill through muck and scum. Who needs wars when industry will be our undoing? the man thought vaguely to himself as he slowly walked towards the ledge. His naked fingers stroked over the side of the brick wall pensively. There was someone else up here, he could see their silhouette. He'd give it a few minutes, then maybe he'd go over and talk to him. He inhaled through his nose, mascara-coated lashes fluttering over his silvery blue eyes. This may be the only place left on earth where the smell was still slightly pure.
Looking back over to the darkened figure, he blinked, recognizing the frame. He remembered him. Of course, his name escaped him. There was some connection between him and that model that Ray had interviewed about three weeks ago. He wet his lips and smirked a little to himself. He looked like he was deep in thought about something. Ray wasn't one to actually interrupt anyone. He'd just stand quietly in the distance until he was noticed, then he'd make more of a scene. Besides, he didn't really care if he was "welcome" or not. Private moments should be spent in a private place, like the home. At least go somewhere where you knew nobody would bother you... but he was getting ahead of himself. He put down his defensive barrier before it closed him off completely and strode over to where the man stood. He sat down next to him, his leather jacket stretching over his back, the steady moon's glow making it shine. His arms dangled over his knees as they curled upward. His head tilted to the side as he studied the man next to him a little more closely. Yes, he was very deep in thought.
Blue eyes met silver, and the man spoke. Ray scoffed a little, a smirk lighting up his mouth. "Tch. Who said I was interrupting?"
[/color] He leaned back a little, letting his legs fold out to dangle over the edge. "I'm just enjoying the evening, like you are."the word count 640 out of character hope you don't mind me butting in xD [/blockquote][/size][/blockquote][/font] |
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Post by rhett osanne. on Feb 15, 2010 13:13:24 GMT -5
- - - - - Rhett was moody, grumpy.. Usually lost in some sort of thought that no one else could ever understand and he didn’t care to explain. Overall, if you were trying to socialize he was probably the worst person to do it with, because the most you were going to be met with was a disapproving expression and a string of dismissing words. The only people who got more were those who persisted, and honestly those were few. Usually they gave up after he said his first phrase. If he was feeling particularly aggressive, he’d pursue them and make sure they knew what he thought.. But usually he just sort of ignored them until they went away, just as he did with his problems and a variety of other things he really didn’t want to delve too deeply into. The slightly insane-looking man who’d come onto the roof with him seemed vaguely familiar, perhaps they’d met over Dolores’s span of time at the agency but he doubted it was much of an interaction if he didn’t remember; Rhett had a brain for faces and names. Sighing heavily, he let his eyes glance over the figure once more and noticed with a bit of both apprehension and annoyance that he appeared to be coming towards him. No, this was his quiet spot to think and he really wasn’t in the mood (when was he ever) to have someone interrupt it with a series of comments and questions. That was all a conversation was, wasn’t it? Horribly disregardful, forward inquiries and sentences and he’d had about enough of them.
- - - - - The look he gave the other male was something of exasperation, although he liked to imagine it held enough energy to force him to fall off the side of the building. “Well, if you weren’t before you are now.” something about the way he spoke may have made him seem like he was entitled to be there, but realistically he had no right to even be within the confines of that building, let alone on top of it. He didn’t work for the agency or the magazine, he shouldn’t even know where the building was, let alone have a card to get in that was photoshopped and exquisitely illegal. We’ll just ignore that teensy little fact for his benefit. Averting his eyes, he stared out at the street, his mind wandering back to it’s previous location as he attempted to ignore the male and his strange, all-black clothes. His eyes, however, were something continued making Rhett want to stare; eyeliner was not usually meant for males, and it was a bit of an insult. But he ignored it, and the peculiar boy as well, prone to doing so without provocation and here he was given loads of it. Dragging on his cigarette, he blew the smoke out in rings and flopped back, the motion making his shoe fall off, and down to the dark abyss that was otherwise known as the ground, roughly seven stories away. Fuck. He decided to express this out loud, with a verbal.. “Shit.” as he sat up, watching the loafer fall to the ground and listening for the sound of it’s landing. “Shit…” he repeated, rubbing his temple in a frustrated manner with one hand and bringing the cigarette up to his lips for something of a calming drag. Two hundred dollar loafers, probably in some slush or whatever else happened to be on the streets at that time.. Brilliant.
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words: 610.
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Post by ray valence-meyer. on Feb 15, 2010 13:59:48 GMT -5
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/size] CORRUPTED BLOOD RUNS THROUGH MY VEINS
I GAVE UP EVERYTHING FOR FAME
I GOT WHAT YOU WANT IT'S JUST DON'T STOP- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/size][/center] It was strange, how Ray all of a sudden wanted to be up here. He was a stubborn man, and what he wanted, he got. That showed through mostly during sex. He was always dominant, no matter what. Submission meant weakness, meant... trust. That wasn't something Ray was going to give up easily, if at all. He hated opening himself up to others. He was perfectly content with his mask of indifference. That was what people wanted to see in him, so that was what he made obvious. People acted like they wanted the real him, the person underneath all of the makeup and campy clothing, but they didn't. Ray knew better. They were seeing only what they wanted to see. If they really wanted his true personality to shine like they all said that they did, they would see it easily. People always strolled into his life, claiming they could fix him, and it irritated the fuck out of him. There was nothing to fix. This persona he had got him what he needed. In the cannibalistic world of journalism, he needed to be cocky and self-assured.
Of course, that cocky and self-assured exterior only hid what he truly was -- insecure and introverted. Some days, he hated what he had become, what Joe had turned him into. Most of the time, now, however, he was okay with what he had become. He didn't miss his old, sweet personality. Not in the work he was in. Chewing on his inner cheek, he stared down at the abyss below, watching people scurry around like busy little ants. That's all they were, just ants. Nobody was worth a hill of beans in this town anymore. The only people that mattered were the beautiful ones. It was disgusting, and even more vomit-inducing because Ray was a part of that world, the world of the plastics. He vaguely wondered how he even got to this point sometimes, but the thoughts would always be pushed out of his cluttered mind immediately. He had better things to worry about than shit like that. Who cares who he was before? He had a charade to fill, a reputation to keep. He had to keep clamoring up the ladder, no matter what it took.
His naked fingers entwined, the fingerless gloves wrinkling as he held them in his lap. His feet continued to dangle. He didn't swing them or kick them, though. It showed that he was comfortable. Movement on Ray's part normally showed apprehension, unease. He didn't really seem phased by the man sitting next to him yet. Wetting his lips again, he vaguely considered flirting with him. It was a win-win situation -- either he'd get totally grossed out and leave so nobody would be bothered, or Ray would score another lay. But then he figured that either way, he might not get anywhere. The guy just might get mildly irritated and still sit. Who knows, he could be just as stubborn as Ray was.
The man spoke, making Ray scoff again. "Hey, you're the one making an issue out of it." He kept his retaliations to a minimum. It wasn't that he was afraid of starting a conflict. He normally loved them, actually. He loved the rush, the feeling of getting all fired up. "I can be as quiet as a mouse when I want to be. You're not helping your case."
[/b] Already, he was beginning to dislike the guy... Idly, he looked at his black nail polish, his lips pursing as he picked away at the paint for another few moments. Maybe, if he got lucky, the guy would just up and leave. Sudden movement made Ray look down, only to see a shoe falling quickly down into the darkness below. Blinking for a moment, he tried his hardest to control the sudden urge to laugh. Biting down hard on his inner cheek, he looked over to the man he was sitting next to, his dark eyebrow raised elegantly as he stared at the shoeless foot. That image... was just too hilarious. He shook his head, a wobbly smirk growing on his pale face in spite of himself. Oh, just wait. The guy next to him would get all mad and bark at him with his smoky breath... ugh, smoke. He fucking hated smoke. His lip curled a little at the mere stench that followed as the man next to him took a drag. If he wasn't so stubborn, he'd be long gone by now... the word count 788 out of character lololol i'm still laughing cuz his shoe fell off xD [/blockquote][/size][/blockquote][/font] |
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Post by rhett osanne. on Feb 16, 2010 16:06:23 GMT -5
- - - - - For the boy, it was more of having been groomed to be the way he was, it was paying attention to the small details instead of the big ones and getting the larger concepts too. It was taking everything at once and ultimately, he spent a good deal of time pondering the meaning of things.. And how he should have done something or other, or why he did this that way. He was a very quiet person, unless he was upset… that was the only time something like what was happening to him would bother him. Brushing his fingers through his hand, he refused in a small stand to speak to the other male, going back to spending his time in his own world. He didn’t particularly appreciate the retort, but it wasn’t like he really was going to push him off the building. Rhett was all talk, and deep down inside he knew that if the boy wanted to sit there, there wasn’t much he could do about it. Stubbing out the cigarette on the side of the building, he watched the smoldering embers drop down into the darkness, the color disappearing and his lips curling in a slightly satisfied smile. Things were so fragile… and delicate. One second you could be holding a shoe, for instance, and in the next it would be on the ground more than a hundred feet away from where you dropped it. Nothing was ever the same, nothing was ever consistent. And sometimes, he hated it. But for the most part Rhett knew it was how life was and he was happy, he was satisfied in knowing that things would be forever turning around. He rested assured in that environment and rolled around in it like a pig in shit, that was.. Until he decided he was less confrontational than he’d like to think, and actually ignored someone instead of being ignored. Passivity was never something he really accomplished and this was a rare, frightening state for him. He was a tad lost on what he was supposed to do with his life from here, a total reform from his previous whore way.. And where before he could confide in whomever he wanted, now things were a little different.
- - - - - Now his shoe was on the ground and he was too far away to reach. Literally. And those had been from Italy… because he only owned one pair of loafers, classic black leather ones with special soles to keep his fucked up gait smooth. Nobody really knew it about Rhett, but he’d been a bit pigeon-toed when he was little and it had led, ultimately, to spending a lot of his time training so he could walk straight. When he finally figured out how to do it at age six, he’d been too late to really reform it… and at that point his parents had settled with jaunty over spine problems. And so he’d been a bit bouncy, going through various inserts for his shoes to see which would fit the best and he’d come up with these special ones, on a trip for his sixteenth birthday to Italy… and he’d had them ever since, in the best of shape because every time they got even remotely close to scuffed or distasteful, he took them to a cobbler and had them refitted, resoled.. Whatever they needed done. It was like a metaphor for his life, always adapting to the situation and having planned everything.. Until something busted, and then he went into a panic trying to fix it, found someone who knew what they were doing. It’d happened twice. Twice in his whole life… and he was so transfixed this time that he wondered if it was ever going to happen again. “Yeah, fucking hilarious.” he muttered, rolling his eyes as he fell back again, kicking off his other shoe so it was at least even. He didn’t intend to go after it until he was damn good and ready, and that obviously wasn’t going to be for a while. So until then, he’d just… talk. Even if he didn’t really want to. “Working late, then, I assume?” he questioned, laying back slowly and yearning to pull out another cigarette, even if he wouldn’t. Too much effort. And if he asked, he’d pull out the badge and let him have it, take out all of his frustration on the obviously either confused or misinterpreted young man by his side. At least if he committed murder he’d have a reason to go to therapy, other than the stereotypical poor little rich boy routine. Rhett really could only take that for so long before he wanted to cram his fist down someone’s throat and really let them have it.
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words: 610.
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