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| Sat, May 16 2026, 3:00pm PDT | [ Login ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: 1, 2, [3], 4, 5, 6, 7 ] |
| Everything I know about breaking hearts, I learned from you - I've never done it with the style and grace you have, but I've made loads of plans, based on these mistakes.. The young man made his way in - as inconspiciously as he could. His long days and overtime on 'the beat' were wearing him out and making him weary of seeing other people. Running a calloused hand through his dark hair, he let a sigh and dropped the messenger bag he carried inside the door, heading for the kitchen in search of something cold and stiff. He was dressed in plainclothes, but they did nothing to hide the obviously well worked form beneath - a floppy navy hoodie and a pair of black track pants, you know the kind, with the white stripe and snaps down the side - he was a right slob, but he didn't much care - he was enjoying a couple of days off. As was becoming the norm when he had time off, Dekker trailed along at his heels, distracting himself here and there by things that really had no great importance except to the dog himself. --------------------- Name Me: Nikolai Jakob Oliveri.
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darkening street corners beckoned a lonely, mournful tune, and the population of the metro was asleep, dancing in their dreams, trapped in their nightmares. but here she was, distinctly alone in the uncalled for sojourn that contravened the decrepit fringe and bled into the quietest places. the picture of innocence; toussled array of dull platinum tresses drive flaxen remains across a somber countenance, the ivory planes of a distinct and jaded lineage. she was so complicated, so beyond saving. so rigid and tense. so battered and yet so strong. she looked so vulnerable, resting atop the low wall surrounding the area, an irresistable aura surrounding her seemingly somber entirity. platinun locks are in disarray, a tangled and wind-tousled halo atop the brujas delicate facade. pale digits pull the peds towards her chest and dial is lowered, the vintage alabaster dress she had chose to adorn this evening failing to provide a supple heart source in the chilly night. her icy oids fixate upon scuffed Converse, her petite ribcage expanding with the intake of breath expelled slowly as she clutched her appendages tighter to her bust. her deficient condition was beginning to reflect in her elctric blue cores, the rogue visibly shivering now, struggling to remain comfortable as the chilling tendrils of the wind engulfed the slender and coatless wraith. cadee chose to stay outside of the lodge for unknown reasons. wait, she knew the reasons. failure to be accepted. Eyes of a tragedy | ||
Beautiful disaster Back story Cadee Johnson was born to a prostitute and a cocaine addict in New York City, living an unhappy existance for the first seven years of her life in which she was abused and broken. She was a malnoutrished, and her parents would sell for her body in exchange for drugs or a place to spend the night. This hell continued until she was rescued by child services and lived in 'The House' as called by its juvinelle residents; the supposed makeshift home until services find you a foster home. There she took up a love for art and artwork, spending hour upon hour sketching portrait after portrait of her peers. It wasn't until Cadee was nine that she was adopted by a young couple in San Francisco unable to have children of their own. They offered her open arms, but Cadee was beyond saving at that point, plunging headfirst in the drug and party scene. Her many encounters with ODs and intoxications made her vunerable to rape, which she endured several times. Cadee ran away with who she thought was 'the one' on her 18th birthday, but the boy soon left her for another, leaving Cadee lost and alone in Los Angeles. Enter stage left Cadee is slim from malnourishment and quite petite, but she doesn't always look it. Flaxen locks grace the cranium of the dove, a broken halo atop the head of a fallen angel. Her orbis are a startling ice blue with flecks of silver, the gray more prominent in different lighting. She is often seen in old or tattered clothing, but her attire is rarely dirty. Playing the part Cadee is a former cocaine addict and is susceptible to take up other drugs as well. She longs to be seen and aspires to be an actress, and where better to make it than LA? Cadee is very niave and the picture of innocence; she wears her heart on her sleeve. Cadee is very introverted and keeps to herself most of the time. She loves the arts and has a paticular fondness for painting. She is, simply put, a modern-day damsel in distress. Flyin' down the street again | ||
She was bored. She'd been here a couple of days, and hadn't yet met anyone interesting, or found anything to do. She looked down at her guitar case, and smiled slightly, taking it out and resting it in her lap, playing a few cords, humming a tune.She paused, looking around to see that no one was watching her, and began to sing, words filling her mind like a river. Know me as Trinity. I've walked this Earth 18 restless years. Bless me to live and love as a female. Paint my locks brown, dyed blonde. Paint my eyes Emrald No one holds my heart. Skittles @ Prophecy Island |
A triangle trying to squeeze through a circle
| He'd decided to take a lazy day out - he was not on call, and so he'd wandered out, a massive brindle boxer in tow. He'd discovered long ago that living in a big bachelor pad on his own was far too lonely and Dekker had come from a nearby shelter - he'd been his most faithful companion besides Lupe for the last two years. The young man flopped down onto the front steps, rubbing his sweater against his stubble-roughened cheeks to get some feeling in and some chill out of them, the dog flopping with just as much grace beside him. A large hand reached over to maul the adoring companion playfully, the two of them wiped out from a jog in the park. ----------------------------- Name Me: Nikolai Jakob Oliveri.
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