Post by Vincente Caro on Jul 24, 2012 15:03:51 GMT -6
((I have no idea who you'd prefer to play XD. And yumi looked not as busy as the other guys. >_> If you don't want to play him or can't or somethin', I am completely ok with whoever else! :3 let your imagination soar~))
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=width,420,true] [STYLE=float: left; width: 90px; height: 90px; background-image: url(http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b329/xmadrigalx/silvia2.jpg); border-radius: 15px; border: #D13434 solid 3px; margin-left: 20px;] [/style] [STYLE=float: left; width: 50px; height: 60px; background-image: url(http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b329/xmadrigalx/silvia2.jpg); border-radius: 10px; border: #D13434 solid 3px; margin-left: 6px;] [/style] [STYLE=float: left; background-color: #D13434; color: #fff; font-size: 30px; font-family: arial; text-shadow: #fff 1px 1px 1px; padding: 5px; margin-left: 10px;] A [/style][STYLE=float: left; color: #222; font-size: 30px; font-family: arial; letter-spacing: -3px; padding: 4px; 2px 4px 0px;]IN'T A SCENE *[/style][STYLE=background: url(http://i.imgur.com/45860.gif); width: 450px; height: 80px; border-bottom: #D13434 6px solid; border-radius: 14px 14px 0px 0px; -moz-border-radius-topright: 14px; -moz-border-radius-topleft: 14px; margin-top: -40px;] [/style] [STYLE=float: right; color: #222; font-size: 9px; font-family: arial; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 1px; padding: 4px; margin-top: -19px; margin-right: 8px;] IT'S A GODDAMN ARMS RACE [/style][STYLE=background-color: #1d1d1d; text-align: justify; color: #c2c2c2; font-size: 9px; font-family: arial; line-height: 10px; padding: 1px; padding-left: 122px;] ❚ WORDS 490 ❚ TAGS yumi, GRIM ;.;❚ NOTES trap, train, trepidation[/style][STYLE=background-color: #1d1d1d; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9px; color: #c2c2c2; text-align: justify; line-height: 11px; padding: 0px 30px 10px 30px;] The mall was getting old. Vincente had all he needed. He had just changed his brushes last week, he had bought new wedges, he had thrown out the expired and dirty... He needed something new to do. And so, naturally, he sought out something to do. On a whim, he took the train to the north, deciding to go enjoy himself doing something absolutely random. That absolutely random thing ended up being him giving a lecture to a total stranger in Gothic Lolita style about properly applying white face paint and how to make it look natural and then going to the nightclub with her... He kept himself sober, though, so he wouldn't do anything he would later regret. Hours later, he was sleeping in a soft hotel bed. The perfect day! And he needed it. And now, completely refreshed and ready to return home, Vincente was humming a little song to himself as the night train began approaching the city he knew and loved. He heard the PA loudly, the conductor's voice, "Now approaching the station. We're sorry for the delay. Please gather all your belongings and prepare to leave at the nearest exit. Departure on south route in T minus thirty minutes. Thank you." Still humming some cheerful little song, Vincente did just as he was told and grabbed his purse and his little suitcase and filed out of the train with the rest of the cattle. At some point, he waved good bye to his seat partner at the time, a nice little old lady, before he skipped off. He was dressed well, casual and looking like any other nightcrawler around. He had on a woman's black trench coat, belt and all, over his spaghetti-strapped scarlet red dress. His only accessories today were his red headband and gold hoop earrings. As he was getting away from the crowd and into the street, his heels and the wheels of his carry-on suitcase echoed on the pavement a bit eerily. He was headed home, but the way there at this hour was like walking through a ghost town. There were a couple people here and there, drifting in and out of the shadows. But most people were either downtown or headed on home. Vincente had done it before, so he wasn't at all scared as he cheerfully skipped down the street near the train station. He only stopped once on the road home, checking his face in the window of a nearby abandoned warehouse. He went immediately back to humming his song, which some might recognize as pieces and bits of "Country Road," an old song from hundreds of years ago. It was a classic he sang every time he walked home alone like this. Perhaps he was being too trusting of the night? Perhaps he would run into a friend, an enemy, or maybe just some weirdo stranger? Only time would tell, and Vincente wouldn't be the wiser. [/style][STYLE=background-color: #1d1d1d; color: #434343; font-family: verdana; font-size: 8px; text-align: right; padding: 0px 10px 5px 0px;]made by ayu of btn [/style] |
