played by
pie
POSTS
54
awards
|
Revolutionist
call me mo
he/they
25 YEARS OLD
March
27
aries
LA, california
bisexual
enforcer
TAG WITH @morgan
MORGAN WOLF
we have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven
[nospaces] [attr="class","lucyskydlt"] [attr="class","lucymoondlt"]441 words / for EMILIO OTA / what a wreck | [attr="class","lucywhisperdlt"]whisper |
[attr="class","lucystarsdlt"]It was a little strange. He should have felt saddened, the type of crushing despair that one felt when they discovered whatever they wanted was unattainable. Impossible. It was not a stranger to him, yet now, it remained elusive. Was he to be grateful for that? There it was, lingering at the back of his mind, dark clouds looming on the horizon, heralding a storm. A fog that muted the colours of a rich land, turning coppery fields the shade of rotten dead leaves. But assurance after assurance left his lips, nothing more than sotto voce, and oddly enough, they were heartfelt and sincere. [break][break]
"Emilio." An anchor, he tried again in as soothing a tone as he could manage, anything to help quell the other's panic. Better, the words not quite tripping over each other in their haste, a little step away from the verge of hysteria. One step at a time. "Give yourself some credit, you've come this far." Cue a wan smile, perhaps one more felt than seen. "I can teach you." Even less of a whisper, simply mouthing the words silently with a breath. Words for the benefit of none other than himself, it seemed. A quick squeeze of the shoulder, another feeble attempt at reassurance as if to help prove a point. It did seem to be working. Somewhat.[break][break]
He wondered how everything had culminated in such a situation, two distressed, idealistic wrecks who wanted to help revolutionize a city yet could barely handle their own emotions. A wry smile threatened to surface, accompanying the hesitant words of someone who did not quite know whether they were helping or simply shoving them further downhill, aggravating the situation. Though, unless one of them decided to make the drastic decision of jumping out of a moving vehicle at full speed, his imagination was unable to fathom any other way this situation could get worst (not that he was an optimist, but his brain had, at this point, refused to come up with anything else more painful). [break][break]
"You know how I see colours, right?" Again, low and quiet, though uncertainty had since threaded into his voice almost imperceptibly, yet he didn't quite sound sad. "Yours is a really nice colour, did you know? Purple-ish? Like lilacs and orchids." A slight pause, as if collecting thoughts, and when he spoke again it was definite, unfaltering. "Sometimes there are others, red, yellow and whatever, but your colour is always there. It can be a little hidden sometimes, but it's always there." His hand twitched, a minuscule gesture to punctuate his words on reflex, the enforcer falling silent and letting the words hang. [attr="class","lucysundlt"]  [attr="class","lucyspacedlt"] [attr="class","lucywcreditlt"]MADE BY LUCY OF WW[newclass=.lucyskydlt]background-color: #fefefe; width: 350px; padding: 15px; border-top: 4px solid #777777;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucymoondlt]font-family: arial; font-weight: 700; font-size: 7px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: center; line-height: 100%; width: 350px; letter-spacing: 2px; color: #777777; position: relative; margin-top: 5px; background: #fefefe; padding: 5px;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucymoondlt a]font-family: arial; font-weight: 700; font-size: 7px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 2px;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucywhisperdlt]font-family: arial; font-weight: 700; font-size: 70px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: center; line-height: 100%; width: 350px; letter-spacing: -5px; color: #F15465; margin-left: -180px;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucystarsdlt]overflow: auto; height: 170px; text-align: justify; padding: 10px 10px 0px 10px; color: #777777; font-size: 11px; font-family: calibri; line-height: 13px; text-transform: lowercase;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucystarsdlt::-webkit-scrollbar]background-color: #e7e7e7; width: 9px; height: 9px; border: 4px solid #fefefe;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucystarsdlt::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background-color: #777777; border: 3px solid #fefefe;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucysundlt]width: 80px; height: 80px; border-radius: 100%; margin-bottom: -50px; margin-right: 30px;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucysundlt img]width: 80px; height: 80px; border-radius: 100%; border: 15px solid #F15465;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucyspacedlt]background-color: #F15465; width: 380px; height: 25px;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucywcreditlt]font-size: 9px; font-family: calibri; opacity: 0.6; text-align: right; width: 380px;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucywcreditlt a]font-size: 9px; font-family: calibri;[/newclass]
|
|
played by
★Deimos
POSTS
154
awards
|
Revolutionist
call me Em/Emmy
Male
28 YEARS OLD
September
21
Virgo
New York
Bisexual (polyamorous)
Spy
TAG WITH @emilio
EMILIO OTA
So, collect your scars and wear 'em well: Your blood's as good an ink as any
[attr="class","post_box"] [attr="class","tetbox"] [attr="class","intext"]"]I can teach you." Emilio gave a single, sharp laugh, the sound bitter and cynical. As if emotions could be so easily taught. He'd been alive almost thirty years. If he hadn't felt them yet, what made Morgan think he was any sort of capable of feeling them? Ah, but the words were oddly comforting. They soothed in a way that burned, that grabbed at his throat and dug in tight. Too good, too kind, it didn't seem right. It irritated Emilio.
Emilio listened quietly as Morgan spoke, looking intently at the floor of the car. A purple that was always there? Was he trying to say there was an "Emilio" underneath it all? How was it that Morgan could see it, but he couldn't? What made Morgan think he knew him better than he knew himself? What gave him the right? It twisted Emilio's insides up in the worst of ways. How was he supposed to react this? He felt angry, irritated, but the feelings didn't make sense. It was like he wanted Morgan to leave, because that was what he'd prepared himself for, that was what he'd expected. As if he was angry at Morgan for not following the script of this scene, even if he was doing what Emilio really wanted him to. Emilio didn't understand it. He didn't understand the anger he felt or why he wanted to lash out at him, hurt him and chase him off. Was it that he'd accepted Morgan leaving as inevitable? That this kindness, this offer to teach was just delaying the pain that would only hurt more at the end of it all? He didn't know what to do anymore, but remaining silent, he knew, wasn't really a valid option. The expected reply would be something like "teach me", but he felt like he couldn't say that, like he wasn't allowed. Morgan had thrown away the script, but Emilio still couldn't let go of his, couldn't let go of the initial plot of the scene.
"I don't know what to do." He buried his face in his hands. He was frustrated and confused and for once he had no idea what to do next. |
[attr="class","image_box"] [attr="class","image_box_2"] [attr="class","tagyou"]I'LL RUIN YOU |
[googlefont=Oswald]
[newclass=.post_box]width:300px;height:458px;background:transparent;border:1px solid #bbb;color:333;[/newclass]
[newclass=.image_box]width:200px;height:450px;overflow:hidden;border:double #bbb;padding:2px;margin-top:-14px;[/newclass]
[newclass=.image_box_2]z-index:-1;width:200px;height:450px;background:url(http://s20.postimg.org/a65f37vvh/emilio_pside.png)[/newclass]
[newclass=.tetbox]width:270px;height:429px;overflow:auto;padding:10px;background:transparent;font-family:tahoma;font-size:9.5px;line-height:1.3em;text-align:justify;margin-top:5px;[/newclass]
[newclass=.intext]width:265px;height:429px;overflow:auto;padding-right:8px;[/newclass]
[newclass=.intext b]color:#bd3939;[/newclass]
[newclass=.tagyou]z-index:5;width:197px;padding:2px;background:#121212;transition:ease-in-out 1s;transition-delay:0.5s;margin-top:5px[/newclass]
[newclass=.tagyou2]z-index:5;width:196px;padding:2px;background:#121212;transition:ease-in-out 1s;transition-delay:0.5s;margin-top:277px[/newclass]
[newclass=.image_box:hover .tagyou]margin-top:-359px;transition:all ease-in-out 0.8s;[/newclass]
[newclass=.image_box:hover .tagyou2]opacity:1; [/newclass]
[newclass=.cred]width:300px;margin-top:5px;[/newclass]
[newclass=.cred a]color:#333!important;font-family:arial!important;font-size:8.5px!important;[/newclass]
[newclass=.intext::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 3px; background: #f9f9f9;[/newclass]
[newclass=.intext::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]width: 0px; background: #bd3939;[/newclass]
|
|
played by
pie
POSTS
54
awards
|
Revolutionist
call me mo
he/they
25 YEARS OLD
March
27
aries
LA, california
bisexual
enforcer
TAG WITH @morgan
MORGAN WOLF
we have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven
[nospaces] [attr="class","lucyskydlt"] [attr="class","lucymoondlt"]441 words / for EMILIO OTA / another trainwreck of a post | [attr="class","lucywhisperdlt"]whisper |
[attr="class","lucystarsdlt"]A single laugh, a flash of dark, ugly yellow. Stab. Twist. He didn't flinch, though, instead only huffing out a breath that could have passed for exasperation, or amusement, or both. Did Emilio catch that? Had he spoken aloud? The spy had sharp hearing, nonetheless. But the offer still stood, like a lone warrior who had absolutely no chance of winning against the army that bore down upon them, clinging stubbornly to a fraying thread of hope. Did they not all have hope, however little? Hope that perhaps the revolution would change things, for the better or for the worse; hope that they would not get discovered, not get caught or killed; hope that they would survive this round of russian roulette, that they would gamble their lives and win. [break][break]
Or perhaps he was just being stupid. There was always that, of course. [break][break]
(Again, the little voice at the back of his mind agreed vehemently.)[break][break]
The silence continued for a bit before he felt the narrow frame of the other twitch and tense in his arms. Instinctively he braced himself for a verbal tirade, perhaps a slap or punch for how dare he, he did not have the right-[break][break]
"I don't know what to do."[break][break]
His breath caught in his throat, confusion at the general series of events verbalising itself in something remarkably similar to a strangled squeak. And all of a sudden, he found himself chuckling, a breathy, broken rhythm that somehow escaped his lips and he was, once again, asking himself the same very question that had supplanted every logical string of thought in his mind the moment he agreed to this assignment. What was he doing?[break][break]
"That's okay, that's perfectly okay. Nothing out of the ordinary." Words as a flimsy support, almost a crutch because how was he supposed to comfort Emilio when he, too, had little idea what to do? He often had the unfortunate habit of playing by ear, so to speak, every decision spun off the top of his head, impulsive, instinctual, going for whatever felt right. Sometimes, such would turn out to be good choices, when his version of honesty was not to tell the truth but choose with truths to tell, when his instinct was to protect the organisation he had sold himself into and the people within. But when it came to something like this, where he balanced precariously on a tightrope with a canyon yawning on either side of him and nothing but thin air to catch him when he fell, 'winging it', to lay himself out in all honesty, was a dangerous choice. And yet it was his only option. [attr="class","lucysundlt"] [attr="class","lucyspacedlt"] [attr="class","lucywcreditlt"]MADE BY LUCY OF WW[newclass=.lucyskydlt]background-color: #fefefe; width: 350px; padding: 15px; border-top: 4px solid #777777;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucymoondlt]font-family: arial; font-weight: 700; font-size: 7px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: center; line-height: 100%; width: 350px; letter-spacing: 2px; color: #777777; position: relative; margin-top: 5px; background: #fefefe; padding: 5px;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucymoondlt a]font-family: arial; font-weight: 700; font-size: 7px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 2px;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucywhisperdlt]font-family: arial; font-weight: 700; font-size: 70px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: center; line-height: 100%; width: 350px; letter-spacing: -5px; color: #F15465; margin-left: -180px;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucystarsdlt]overflow: auto; height: 170px; text-align: justify; padding: 10px 10px 0px 10px; color: #777777; font-size: 11px; font-family: calibri; line-height: 13px; text-transform: lowercase;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucystarsdlt::-webkit-scrollbar]background-color: #e7e7e7; width: 9px; height: 9px; border: 4px solid #fefefe;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucystarsdlt::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background-color: #777777; border: 3px solid #fefefe;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucysundlt]width: 80px; height: 80px; border-radius: 100%; margin-bottom: -50px; margin-right: 30px;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucysundlt img]width: 80px; height: 80px; border-radius: 100%; border: 15px solid #F15465;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucyspacedlt]background-color: #F15465; width: 380px; height: 25px;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucywcreditlt]font-size: 9px; font-family: calibri; opacity: 0.6; text-align: right; width: 380px;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucywcreditlt a]font-size: 9px; font-family: calibri;[/newclass]
|
|
played by
★Deimos
POSTS
154
awards
|
Revolutionist
call me Em/Emmy
Male
28 YEARS OLD
September
21
Virgo
New York
Bisexual (polyamorous)
Spy
TAG WITH @emilio
EMILIO OTA
So, collect your scars and wear 'em well: Your blood's as good an ink as any
[attr="class","post_box"] [attr="class","tetbox"] [attr="class","intext"]Emilio thought that Morgan's laughter should've pissed him off, that he should've lashed out, been offended. This wasn't a joke, after all, and if it, against the odds was, it was a sick one. He wasn't angry, though, or bitter about it or anything. The sound was nice, comforting. It was something familiar that cut through the tension, brought him back to the ground and kept him there. Somehow it made his thin words of comfort more meaningful, made his words, his voice, the hum of the car all less aggravating and more calming. For a few minutes, Emilio just listened to the sound of the car's engine, of tires on asphalt, of Morgan's breathing.
"I don't think an emotion like that is something that be taught." Emilio spoke softer now, weariness hitting him like a train now that he was calming down, "Not this late in my life, at least." He was almost thirty now, made bitter and jaded by an unforgiving world. Love was maybe something you could teach to a young child. To teach it to someone as old and cynical as he was, though? He doubted it. How did you teach someone to love, anyway. People just fell in love, didn't they? Isn't that what dating was about? Showing someone you loved them while deciding if you loved them enough for marriage? Morgan's efforts would just be a waste of time, would all just delay the inevitable hurt. He'd leave with a sour taste in his mouth that Emilio left there, because he couldn't learn, because something like that couldn't be taught to someone like him. He'd leave and there would be no salvaging things. There would be no possibility of them being friends after that. They wouldn't be able to look at each other in the halls of the apartment building without something twisting in their gut. Emilio didn't want Morgan to leave, but he also didn't want to bother. He didn't want him to stick around a little longer only to get frustrated with Emilio and leave. |
[attr="class","image_box"] [attr="class","image_box_2"] [attr="class","tagyou"]I'LL RUIN YOU [attr="class","tagyou2"]@ |
[googlefont=Oswald]
[newclass=.post_box]width:300px;height:458px;background:transparent;border:1px solid #bbb;color:333;[/newclass]
[newclass=.image_box]width:200px;height:450px;overflow:hidden;border:double #bbb;padding:2px;margin-top:-14px;[/newclass]
[newclass=.image_box_2]z-index:-1;width:200px;height:450px;background:url(http://s20.postimg.org/a65f37vvh/emilio_pside.png)[/newclass]
[newclass=.tetbox]width:270px;height:429px;overflow:auto;padding:10px;background:transparent;font-family:tahoma;font-size:9.5px;line-height:1.3em;text-align:justify;margin-top:5px;[/newclass]
[newclass=.intext]width:265px;height:429px;overflow:auto;padding-right:8px;[/newclass]
[newclass=.intext b]color:#bd3939;[/newclass]
[newclass=.tagyou]z-index:5;width:197px;padding:2px;background:#121212;transition:ease-in-out 1s;transition-delay:0.5s;margin-top:5px[/newclass]
[newclass=.tagyou2]z-index:5;width:196px;padding:2px;background:#121212;transition:ease-in-out 1s;transition-delay:0.5s;margin-top:277px[/newclass]
[newclass=.image_box:hover .tagyou]margin-top:-359px;transition:all ease-in-out 0.8s;[/newclass]
[newclass=.image_box:hover .tagyou2]opacity:1; [/newclass]
[newclass=.cred]width:300px;margin-top:5px;[/newclass]
[newclass=.cred a]color:#333!important;font-family:arial!important;font-size:8.5px!important;[/newclass]
[newclass=.intext::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 3px; background: #f9f9f9;[/newclass]
[newclass=.intext::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]width: 0px; background: #bd3939;[/newclass]
|
|
played by
pie
POSTS
54
awards
|
Revolutionist
call me mo
he/they
25 YEARS OLD
March
27
aries
LA, california
bisexual
enforcer
TAG WITH @morgan
MORGAN WOLF
we have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven
[nospaces] [attr="class","lucyskydlt"] [attr="class","lucymoondlt"]381 words / for EMILIO OTA / hello darkness my old friend | [attr="class","lucywhisperdlt"]whisper |
[attr="class","lucystarsdlt"]Here he was, blundering around. If there had been a script to follow, he had long crushed it and tossed it to the wind. Or lost it under piles of other work, most likely. [break][break]
(You are terrible at this, came his father's disembodied voice. Is this how you deal with people? Cue a disgusted look. I taught you better. Morgan pushed the memory away with no little amount of annoyance.)[break][break]
"Don't know 'till you try, right?" The seat seemed very comfortable all of a sudden, despite the fact that it was no particularly fancy car. Or was it? The enforcer took a moment to squint at its darkened interior, but his cursory examination yielded no conclusive results. Instead, he returned his attention to Emilio, offering a smile that came to his lips with surprising ease. "You're not that old!" Almost indignant now, albeit with a certain degree of tiredness that arose from both the events of their evening, and the sheer strength of the emotions that tossed and turned in cacophonous chaos within him. "Besides, old doesn't mean dead. If you're still breathing, there's plenty of possibilities, right?" Optimism was something Morgan considered himself to be lacking, and by quite a bit, too. Yet now, here he was, grasping at thin threads of hope. He spared himself a silent internal chuckle at the thought.[break][break]
And now his hand moved awkwardly to pat the smaller on the shoulder, a series of graceless staccato movements whose only charm lay in the sincere intention to comfort. An apology for how terrible he was at this seemed almost apt, but every word that left his mouth never quite seemed to receive a stamp of approval from his mind, and thus felt as if he was throwing out whatever he could latch onto, a gesture so painfully honest (now that he thought about it) that it gave him pause. Just a moment, a split-second, then the thought dissipated. He decided to forgo the apology nonetheless, holding it off until his brain caught up with an impatient mouth. Instead, Morgan settled for a lapse into silence on his part unless the other prompted a response, offering a tacit sort of comfort that would probably, or so he assumed, work better than anything he might have to say. [attr="class","lucysundlt"] [attr="class","lucyspacedlt"] [attr="class","lucywcreditlt"]MADE BY LUCY OF WW[newclass=.lucyskydlt]background-color: #fefefe; width: 350px; padding: 15px; border-top: 4px solid #777777;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucymoondlt]font-family: arial; font-weight: 700; font-size: 7px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: center; line-height: 100%; width: 350px; letter-spacing: 2px; color: #777777; position: relative; margin-top: 5px; background: #fefefe; padding: 5px;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucymoondlt a]font-family: arial; font-weight: 700; font-size: 7px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 2px;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucywhisperdlt]font-family: arial; font-weight: 700; font-size: 70px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: center; line-height: 100%; width: 350px; letter-spacing: -5px; color: #F15465; margin-left: -180px;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucystarsdlt]overflow: auto; height: 170px; text-align: justify; padding: 10px 10px 0px 10px; color: #777777; font-size: 11px; font-family: calibri; line-height: 13px; text-transform: lowercase;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucystarsdlt::-webkit-scrollbar]background-color: #e7e7e7; width: 9px; height: 9px; border: 4px solid #fefefe;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucystarsdlt::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background-color: #777777; border: 3px solid #fefefe;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucysundlt]width: 80px; height: 80px; border-radius: 100%; margin-bottom: -50px; margin-right: 30px;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucysundlt img]width: 80px; height: 80px; border-radius: 100%; border: 15px solid #F15465;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucyspacedlt]background-color: #F15465; width: 380px; height: 25px;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucywcreditlt]font-size: 9px; font-family: calibri; opacity: 0.6; text-align: right; width: 380px;[/newclass] [newclass=.lucywcreditlt a]font-size: 9px; font-family: calibri;[/newclass]
|
|
