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Realistic or Modern Lull of the Void

AzaleaWonderland

~☆The Wonderful☆~
Roleplay Type(s)
  1. One on One
  2. Group
  3. Dice
  4. Off-site

FROM THE VOID -- DAY ONE -- APRIL 19, 2024


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​



Academy; Midday; 1:15 PM


The school bell rang ... then it rang again. And again. And again.... on a loop. After about ten minutes of this, it finally stopped, a meek announcement coming out shortly after the ringing ended, "A.. Apologies for the malfunction in our bell. Please enjoy the rest of your day."

Lockhaven Academy stood three stories tall with several facilities: the left wing was dedicated to high school education, and the right was for advanced education. The main building's gothic-inspired architecture contrasted heavily with its huge modern-styled ring-shaped laboratory and the recently renovated dorms that accompanied it. Recently, because of the importance of their research, only permitted individuals are allowed to go near the faculty labs.

~~~(The school is a location you can RP in now. Play them how you imagine their average day is like)


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Min Park; Midday; 12:05 PM


The camp admission attendant watched as people moved around Min Park a few hundred feet ahead of them while they worked on filling out the paperwork they were assigned to compile. The humidity and high sun had them sweltering, forcing them to switch on the tiny fan within the admission booth. The sound of its blades swinging in their box was accompanied by a gust of pure cool bliss that had the poor receptionist sighing in relief. As the fan swiveled, the breeze began blowing some of the papers off the counter. The attendant, slow to act, snatched as many as they could before they flew out of the windows. They peered over the counter to see the ones that got away, drifting down into the nearby creek. They groaned; they'll get an earful for that later.

The park had plots of soil for gardening, different pamphlets for hiking or bike trails, and several decorations to make it a cozy place to hang out. About 1000 feet out in one direction was a public campground, and in the other direction was a day camp. Several tables stood out in the open, and fairy lights were weaved through the branches of nearby trees for nighttime light.

~~~(The park is an Area available for you to RP characters in, just play them as you imagine their average day and interactions go)


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  • The bar district was just getting set up as they began to prepare for their busiest hour, like a vessel preparing for an oncoming storm. For now, it was quiet, but that would not last long.

    These bars and restaurants often included heavy gimmicks to stand out from their competition: a burlesque carnival, spy style, and a video game-inspired, one to name a few.

    ~~~(The bar district is open, feel free to describe whichever bar you're in when you post)



██████; ██████; 5:45 ██



 
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Virgilius stone
Your Song


The bar he chose to frequent was a testament to the town. Probably the only one that actually let people bear their hearts out and practice in this backwater small town. He’d heard act after act hearing the younger ones of the tone belt out passion without any finesse.

Perhaps if he had made a bigger name for himself he’d have the stones to call out and ask some to join him, but as it stood now a week home made him long for the call of the band again. He took another big swig of his cuba libre before pushing off the bar top making his way to the raised platform.

The club had its own instruments to play around with but considering he hadn’t had many friends left in town much less in the club he’d have to limit himself to songs he could do a solo on. With a quick check of its tuning he gave the scheduler a nod.

“Hey guys! Hope you’re enjoying your evening. I might take up some recommendations after this one but for now here an old time classic.”

His fingers hit the cords with an ease of familiarity that anyone used to his music wouldn’t have expected from the usual hard rocker. Yet everyone started somewhere and this would be a lil throw back to his middle school days.

“It’s a little bit funny… this feeling inside”

The words meant little to him other than the vessel of approval from the one adult who ever gave him more than a moment of attention. He wondered just how the rest of his friends from back then were doing. It might not have been the best follow up for the crowd but he’d win them back.

He could only hope he’d keep winning them back.

”I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind, that I put down in wordsssss. How wonderful life is while you’re in the world!”
 
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L E V I A T H A N
ORSON MENDEL


location: a bar, some table against the wall
status: enjoying the show
tags: BriiAngelic BriiAngelic

He’d usually never grace the bar scene before the stars found the sky, a pinch too paranoid of recognition. Yet there he sat at the corner of the island, a glass of iced whiskey between dampened fingertips. He chose a seat that favored the shadows and deepened the ones he arrived with. The brim of his cap masked his eyes, which fixed onto the clinking ice within his drink.

The impassioned performances of the patrons were temporary nicotine. Scoffingly bad or enticingly amateurish, all bearing an exciting charm. It wasn’t the quality of their acts that compelled Orson, but their emotion. After smothering his own feelings like a damp towel to flame all morning, he needed someone else’s burning as a reminder. He’d usually find that burning at Sushki’s burlesque but needed something more innocent tonight. Personal.

He noticed the spray painter moments ago, though it had taken him longer to recognize him than he cared to admit. Orson was sitting a few feet behind him while the two faced the stage, so it was safe to assume he hadn’t been noticed yet. Thus, the inch of surprise that raised Orson’s brows went unseen as the painter rose onto the stage to share another of his talents.

His eyes closed so his ears might savor the sound better, exchanging one sense for another. The bass was deep and reverberating, harmonizing with the painter’s honeyed voice. A juxtaposition to the edge of his appearance. Halfway through the song, Orson ambled towards the tables along the center of the floor and sat an empty one discreetly positioned against the back wall. He had a better view of the stage there. Whiskey scathes down his chest as he takes a sip, watching the show over the rim of the glass.

“How wonderful life is while you’re in the world!” The spray painter sang. Orson’s lips smirk with a contradiction, but he has only himself to share it with so he quietly enjoys the show; then sets down his glass to clap when it’s done.


 
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Oeillet
Jae-Seong "Jason" Min

The Funhouse, Bar District

Working remote certainly had its privileges for someone of Jae-Seong's stature; no need to commute to the office, no need to constantly wear a suit, no need to deal with traffic or with annoying rabble in the streets. However, the stress remained all the same considering he had to run a company and maintain its margins - to the pleasure of the Board - in exchange for his sanity. He felt that every day was becoming more of a blur than the last, considering he was stuck wiling away at charts, presentations, meetings, calls, more meetings, more damn calls... it was all so draining. His life had become numbers on a graph, but at least it made him rich. Rich enough to buy his happiness for a time as he entered the familiar vista of the Funhouse, immediately making way to the main office at the back.

Away from the prying eyes of those whose existence he barely acknowledged, it was there that he could find a regular supply of one of his go-to vices that, while addicting, ultimately kept him sane, alert, and at peak performance. Unfixing the gold pins at his shirt cuffs, he took a seat at the couch that had seen more than enough nights with him while also prepping a bag of nose candy for his leisure. His in-law knew best where to source the stuff, and he simply paid less-than-street price for it considering their relationship. Unfixing the tie at the top, he poured out a few grams before putting a bit on his pinkie to taste.

The white powder tasted... sweet? It made Jason squint his eyes in mild disappointment. "Damn, I bet most of this stuff is powdered sugar." he said, "I bet you're getting ripped off."

Nobody Special Nobody Special
 

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Sushki Volkov
Location: The Funhouse
Status: Focused
Interacting: joshuadim joshuadim miki miki

________________________________________________________________________________

Check, check!

The warm, familiar timbre that could only be attributed to The Funhouse’s Ringmaster’s voice sounded throughout the dimly lit mahogany interior of the club, followed by an expected percussion of thunderous microphone taps as he meticulously ensured that his primary tool for the night was fully functional. That was one of the main reasons she made the decision to hire him; not only was he handsome with an inviting tone, he was also painstakingly assiduous when it came to his work, no matter what it was that he was doing.

Looks like my mic is all clear... Get those costumes on, people! We’re due in fifteen!

It was almost as if she could leave all the work to him.

The Ringmaster’s ramblings would not be heard in Sushki’s office– Or, rather, they would simply not be acknowledged. Though his voice faintly beat against the door, it was easily drowned out by the instrumental music from her record player and a loud snrrrt.

Following the immediate head rush, she quickly lifted her head from the metal tray that sat on her oak desk, one of the five neatly arranged white lines having vanished into the darkness of the cylindrical banknote, never to be seen again. She raised a hand to her face, gently rubbing the bridge of her nose and shielding her expression from the others in the room as the substance invaded her system.

...Buy from somebody else, then.” A terse statement. The thought of being swindled by her so-called ‘friends’ both worried and angered her– but she wouldn’t let her brother-in-law’s statement soil her high, and she wasn't cross with him in the slightest. Ignorance is bliss.

She scooted the tray in the direction of her ‘favorite’ before lifting herself from her desk chair. She wasn’t one to bar her employees from having their fun– so long as it didn’t hinder their performances on the grand stage. Though, her favorite performer would likely be hesitant now, following Jae-Seong’s comment.

Up to you. You don’t perform ‘till later tonight.

She slipped a button on her shirt out of its hole to make her cleavage more presentable, grabbing her blazer from over her chair and throwing it on. It was almost time to open.​
 
BERITH

Brandon Woodard


Min Park
A twig broke with a satisfying snap under the weight of Brandon's sneaker, leaving behind a footprint on the slightly moist dirt. The young man smiled with little care for the droplets of sweat trailing down his freckled face. Nothing made a man feel alive like the chirping of the birds, the gentle breeze grazing the leaves on the treetops, or the sharing of glances between fellow hikers, bonded by their satisfaction. You would think that after a very physically taxing five day work week, mixing cement and placing bricks under the scorching summer sun, the first thing in Brandon's schedule would be to chill out in bed, seeking escape from the ever present heat with the gentle kiss of the his pedestal fan. But gifted with vigorous youth (arguably higher than most of his end-of-second-decade peers), there was no better way to spend the last few hours of the morning trecking through the woods! Too bad that Chloe had turned down his invitation once again, surely one day she will cave, though!

A familiar silhouette of grey and light brown came into his view, masterfully dashing down the a tree trunk, minuscule claws dancing through the bark. Brandon couldn't help but be captivated by the little critter, even if this was around the fourth squirrel he had spotted today. He reached for his fanny pack, pulling out a small sealed bag containing a variety of nuts and dried fruits. Squatting down, he extended his hand towards the animal, a piece of walnust resting on his work-weathered palm. Unfortunately, the creature seemed far from the type to trust humans to that degree, so he opted for merely tossing the treat nearby. The instant it hit the ground, the squirrel made a beeline for it, comically bulging one of its cheeks with it before disappearing into the foliage.

Spotting a nearby bench, Brandon chose to take a break, possibly the last one before making his way back home. His feet began to pulse painfuly shortly after placing his derriere on the wooden planks. His hands then worked in coordination, his left wiping the plentiful sweat on his forehead and cheekbones with a towel, and the other carrying his water bottle to his lips. His
mind drifted away into thinking how to spend the rest of his weekend, planning ahead was never his forte, anyways.
 

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Lola Kiss
Location: The Funhouse
Interacting: Nobody Special Nobody Special joshuadim joshuadim



Lola tapped the heel of her crossed legs against the front of the desk. Despite her own performance coming much further in the night, she was already all decorated: hair neatly tousled, makeup painted, and costumed fitted to her skin. She sat perched like a doll, content to hum a little tune and fiddle with the colorful ribbons on her collar.

“♫⋆。 ♪ ₊˚♬.♫⋆。♪ ₊˚♬ ゚.”

She blinked to life at the glint of silver. Her eyes flickered at the tray before her. A grin grew across her face. It was far from a typical act of courtesy, but perhaps that was why she liked her boss so much: anything but conventional.

She pressed her thumbs into her cheek, pushing into her cheekbones to stretch the smile. “Ah? For lil’ ole’ me?”

She hooked one of her pale taupe locks into her finger, twirling it methodically. With a pouting bottom lip, she gazed up and away as if consulting an unseen advisor.

Lola hopped down from the desk and bent over to gaze at the powder. Crystalline, granular, glinting like glitter in the fluorescent light. She could only assume it was cut with some kind of sugar, from what the drugs guy said. There was no frame of reference for her, though.

“...Sure!”

And she attempted to snort the drug. Emphasis on attempted: Her hands flew to the bridge of her nose, the burn insidious through her sinuses.

“OW!! What the fuck!?”

And after a moment, a gaggle of laughter spilled from her lips. Her heart pounded from each rush. She tossed her head back and cackled at the ceiling.

“HA! That’s crazy.” She shivered quickly before jumping up. She rested an elbow on Sushki’s shoulder, leaning most of her weight onto her. “Easy.”

A quick grin, bones flash of white.

©miki
 
  • verrier.png
    Interacting With/Mentions:
    Orson ( Klown Klown )
    ~ Bar, 5pm ~
    Eat Your Heart


    The sound of clapping started as the last bar of the song was brought to an end. He knew it was time to step down, there were others waiting for their fifteen minutes of fame. At least now he’d marketed himself carving a place in this little wayside bar. While he wanted nothing more than to find some decent talent to scope out for a full accompaniment he took it as fate finally giving him a goddamn break when he spotted a new but familiar face as one of the first to clap.

    “Don’t get too used to the chill vibes! If anyone’s down I’ll be comin’ back with a bang on the next! Let’s see who’s gonna try to follow up the act.”

    Cocky, for sure but he shot a smirk and salute to the party coming up next making it clear the words were meant to wake up the crowd more than as an insult. The next newcomers were young and nervous reminding him of his own little posse’s start. Maybe that was why he felt the need to stir them up. There was a damn good reason opening acts existed. If you didn’t mix new blood with headliners no one would know who to keep their eyes on. Worse yet a headliner without rivalry died in obscurity never feeling the drive to get better, to top every last act.

    “Kill it out there kiddos.”

    His trip down let him grab a quick drink from the bar before making his way to the one familiar face in the crowd. With a Blue Hawaiian in hand he took a seat by the man he’d been embarrassed to say he couldn’t remember the name of. Actually, had he ever introduced himself that night? If it was a mistake he’d already decided to go the full mile.

    “Hey fancy seeing you again. Sorry if you mentioned it before ‘cause my mind’s drawing a damn blank on your name. You like the music?”

 
Kayoko Yumekawa
Academy


Why am I even here?

The morons can't even run a school properly. Malfunctioning bell my ass.

He should be free. He shouldn't be rotting in a prison cell. He should be out there, fixing all of this! Society is broken. Our heroes are locked up for
nothing.

Drystan should be here. He knows what's wrong with this place. I know exactly who he'd kill. If only...


Such thoughts ran rampant as Kayoko finished sketching what must've been her hundredth drawing of the serial killer, Drystan Wright—notoriously known as The Red Eyed Monster after leaving a painted red eye insignia at his crime scenes. Even though he was no such monster, the groundless media can't help it with their labels. How could someone the same age as her, and as handsome as that, ever be a monster? She smiled a watery smile at her sketch.

It all played out in her head: Drystan (a dramatically romanticized image, at least) and her in a tight embrace. His bloodied hands staining her clothes, tugging at her collar as the warm fluid drips down her smooth back. And his eyes. A devilish red. Boring into her as he bites her lip. Then she cried. For the only person who could ever love her was behind bars, and she would never feel his gentle caress, nor his buttery lips.

Not unless she lands in the same prison as him.

Kayoko had no idea if her fan mail ever reached Drystan. Apparently she wasn't the only one writing to him. When asked about the "influx of fan mail", he smiled and thanked everyone for seeing the truth. The way he looked at the camera—at her. It made her heart tremble, her eyes water, every fiber of her being aflame with love. She should have felt jealous that her words were probably lost in the pile, but how could she? He thanked her. That was more than enough.

Class had ended a while ago, and it seemed it was just her who remained in her seat. It wasn't like anyone cared about her. Nobody was like Drystan. Nobody saw her the way he would have. As tears formed in her eyes, she flipped another page in her notebook, starting another sketch. At least until the rest of the study group arrived. An unnecessary thing, she thought. Nobody saw her admiration in a positive light.

Nonetheless, she saw it fit to call them here. With how society worked, doing well in class contributed to your future, and she was not exempt of that.
 
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fontcall fontcall fontcall
Verrine
Identity
Jean Tepes
location
Min Park
interactions
Roda the Red Roda the Red
A lone figure traipsed along the creek side, an arm raised over their head dancing in the comfort of warm rays of sunlight that prickled at their skin. The creek water glimmered emerald green in the sun as the shadow of a trout danced along the bed.
Jean's eyes followed a collection of loose papers drifting by slowly until they alighted softly on the surface of the water, chasing away the trout that had been swimming downstream with her.
They could easily have grabbed the papers as they fluttered by, passing within inches of their already outstretched hand, but opted only to observe with large, satellite dish eyes as the water made quick work of the papers.
“It’s funny,” Jean pondered aloud, “that people put important information on something fragile like paper”
Taking a nearby stick they prodded at the soggy mass causing it to separate, whatever had been on the papers before lost to the murky green waters of the creek. “People do funny things” they reaffirmed as they tossed the stick into the water and sent the remaining scraps swirling into the depths along with any more fish that may have been remaining nearby.
They continued to travel alongside the creek a ways until they spotted a familiar individual sat on a bench along the path proper. It was unmistakable who he was with his long, fiery orange hair that made him stick out easily wherever he went. Bounding over silently, they leaned over the backrest of the bench to come face to face with Brandon- a regular at the gas station.
“Hello carrot” they greeted, large eyes boring into him with their usual intensity. “You look… moist” they observed, blinking in a manner that seemed exaggerated.
Jean planted both of their hands firmly on the back of the bench and swung themselves onto the seat beside him, not breaking eye contact as they performed the maneuver. With the exception of their purposeful and exaggerated blinking at his sweaty state, Jean’s eyes bore an almost unblinking stare into the soul of whatever unfortunate subject they came across- like two enormous saucers trying to abduct you with their focus.
“Are you trying to become carrot stew? Should I fetch a cauldron?”
 

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L E V I A T H A N
ORSON MENDEL
______________________________________________________

location: a bar, some table against the wall
status: friendly? flirty? shrug.
tags: BriiAngelic BriiAngelic

His energy zapped the crowd, their relaxed demeanor sparked by an anticipating current. Eyes followed him off the stage brimming with enticed curiosity. There’s suspense to the awe-struck crowd as they wondered which seat the singer might occupy, if they’d have a chance to steal his attention.

Orson glimpsed two women who leaned close to exchange conspiratorial whispers over the artist’s enchanting voice and handsome appearance. Compelled by noncommittal curiosity, Orson’s gaze languidly glided across the room to find the spray painter—and singer—being handed a drink at the bar. He saw the appeal. He looked like the type one might rebel against their parents with. The type to intimately lay with recklessness and sweetly tempt bad decisions. As he approached, Orson considered how reckless he felt like being.

He lifted his glass in greeting as the man claimed the chair across from him, then took a sip of his whiskey, the small round table between them leaving a mere courtesy of distance.

“Yeah, the music was good.” He set the glass on the table; the back of his fingers discreetly touched the other’s. “A talented painter and musician. You’re full of surprises.” Orson tilted his head, a roguish smirk pulling tired lips.

“You left one of your paint cans behind when you left, by the way, Cinderella.” It’d somehow managed to roll into a nearby bush. Orson discovered it by sheer luck after he revisited the site a night or two ago, curious about the painting’s condition. “I have it, if you want it back. I’d love to know what other surprises you’re hiding. And your name, if you're feeling generous.” His voice is a husky drawl, smooth and unrushed as his movements. He leaned back in the chair, foot lightly bumping against the artist’s. A gesture easily masked by his shift in position.
 
Anthony Moretti - Olivier
Location: Academy

Aaaagh! Damn- Darn it. Anthony held his hands up to his ears as the ringing continued. The entire class had been put to a halt for the past several minutes, and that was not what he needed right now. Not only did he actually like this class - the professor being one of the only ones that hadn't yet fallen victim to the leftist agenda - but he needed to absorb every piece of information before the big exam. He couldn't take any hits to his grades, which were decent despite the amount of conflict he'd had with various students and teachers.

Finally, the sound stopped, and class could resume, and Anthony straightened up in his seat. No more distractions, thank goodness.

"Well," the professor looked at his watch. "That's all for today. I recommend you read..."

Anthony's classmates already started shoving stationary and laptops into their bags, and he followed them out. What a waste of time... Normally it would be the end of the schoolday for him, but he had made arrangements. "Excuse me." Anthony pushed past a group loitering in the hallways, arms full of textbooks and papers - today's revision material. Coming up to an almost-empty classroom, he peeked through the window before entering.

"Hello Kayoko. Are you ready to study? Is the tutor coming?"

He dumped the pile of papers onto an adjacent table. "Are these your notes?" Anthony peered over to glance at her sketchbook, frowning. He decided not to ask any questions, sitting down.
 
Cameron Burns
Astaroth

Lost. She was lost. She was never really good with directions. She had asked about six people now where the meeting place was. That was six people too many. She could feel their eyes on her, the disgust, the hatred of her presence. Too weird, too odd-looking. The bags under her eyes, the sullen gaze, things she couldn't fix. A tragic combination of needing to ask for directions and unimpressive appearances. The judgement of those she talked to weighed heavy on her back. Every classroom she peered into, she was replied with the withering gaze of others. Couldn't they have done this over Zoom or Discord or something? She already missed the comfort of her own room and the seduction of her bed and pillows.

After what seemed to be hours of trekking the halls, head bowed and back hunched, she finally caught sight of the destitute form of her student. Ugh. Just looking at her face irritated Cameron. She pushed open the door, then stepped back immediately, waiting for something, anything, to fall where she had been a second ago. Carefully, she stepped over the threshold, and approached Kayoko and her friend. She dragged over a chair noisily and brushed the seat down for pins and staples twisted into tiny, sharp implements, before dropping herself onto the chair. She leaned back onto her seat lazily. "Cool your jets, Specs. I'm here. In spite of the directions given." She looked over to Kayoko.

How irritating. She looked like she had been crying about something.

"Hell's wrong with you?" she remarked sharply. She wasn't sure what she was trying to come off as. Was she asking just to be nice? Was she just annoyed at the sight of someone sobbing? Perhaps a mix of both.

AriAriAbabwa AriAriAbabwa WhiskeyMarten WhiskeyMarten
 
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    Interacting With/Mentions:
    Orson ( Klown Klown )
    ~ Bar, 5pm ~
    The Kintsugi Kid (Ten Years)


    Cinderella was a new one. He snorted at just the wrong time causing some of his drink to fall down the wrong pipe. He tried to cover his cough and the red of his face as he made a picture-perfect fool of himself. With an impish grin, he tried to pick the conversation back up in his favor. He stood and took the chair at the other’s side.

    “Cinderella huh, guess that’d make you prince Charmin’ then? My name’s… Well, the name’s Vergilius but damn if that ain’t a mouthful. People usually just settle for V or Gill. What about you though? Do I get a name to put to the pretty face?”

    He pushed his chair back moving his whole posture to face the other. He wondered if he’d been interpreting the signals wrong, especially with the evasion of a name, but he was never hesitant to keep listening. With clear intentionality, he brought the top of his foot up to nudge the other’s ankle. He placed one elbow on the table resting his face in his hand giving the other his almost full attention. Despite that, he couldn’t help but notice the increasingly loud patrons at the bar behind the other.

    He did his best to keep his annoyance at the random fools at the bar under wraps. Still, it was clear enough that the scene was concerning him as he kept an eye out for if the scene would escalate. Considering he thought he might have a shot here he’d hate to have to go clean up some drunk’s mess but he saw the volatile idiots getting way too close to people obviously trying to steer clear of the fools. It’d be nice if he didn’t keep up a Cinderella trend of ditching his potential date before he got a name.

 
Kayoko Yumekawa
Academy

simj26 simj26 WhiskeyMarten WhiskeyMarten


Kayoko didn't even bat an eye when Anthony, then Cameron, arrived. She wanted to add a few more lines in her sketch before continuing. But their remarks did not go unnoticed.

"No, that's Drystan Wright," she answered flatly to Anthony. Still scribbling, her expression never changing once, she said to Cameron in a rambling manner, "And nothing is wrong with me. I was so overcome with emotion by his recent interview. He sees what's wrong with people, and he knows what to do to fix it. He's a hero. He shouldn't be in prison. He's too handsome to deserve this. I don't understand why people are ruining his life. I cry every time I think about what they did to him. Why should someone so handsome be punished for doing the right thing? I don't get what's wrong with this world."

Kayoko finished her sketch, slamming the book shut. "Okay. I am ready to submit myself to society's broken, monotonous machine." She fished her actual notebook from her bag, but upon opening it, doodles of that serial killer plagued this one, too. The only difference was that there were some class-related notes jotted on the page. "I am still struggling with my math..."
 
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BERITH

Brandon Woodard

Min Park

Midway through wiping the sweat off his forehead, Brandon simply allowed the cool towel to drape over his face, closed eyes finding relaxation in the dim light seeping through the thick white fabric. A long minute of meditative trance passed before he was jolted back to reality through a familiar voice summoning a familiar nickname. Swiftly removing the veil with a pinching grasp, the young man smiled at the eccentric gas station employee. "Hey Jean! Didn't expect to meet you here." He responded to his friend, who now sat beside him. "Hmm, I think a carrot cake would be more fun than a stew!"

Wiping away the sweat acummulating under his chin, the towel was finally tucked away. "I don't know if I told you before, but I to go on hiking trips whenever I can, this park happens to be the closest place I can do so around so I come here more often than not...could really do without all the heat, though, already had to recharge my bottle once." He leaned the uncapped container towards Jean, the crystaline contents reflecting the sunlight in ripples. "Want some? We all gotta stay hydrated."

Interacting: Verrine IDKnuggets IDKnuggets
 

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