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Date Posted: 18:29:00 05/06/02 Mon
Author: arcane
Author Host/IP: pcp01722813pcs.union01.nj.comcast.net / 68.39.237.138
Subject: ±. the unknown
In reply to: Sphinx 's message, "·¨·. life's like that .·¨·" on 17:37:57 05/06/02 Mon



± virile takes a brief swing of his drink and broad shoulders move up and down. her exotic gaze was rather curious, and he wondered what she could be thinking right now

± is that a question?

± he was always one for cocky or snide remarks until he got to know that person a bit better, yet rarely used his terms harshly or crudely. he was more of a snigger rather than a scowl, at least, until better aquantices [ sp? ] were made. slight smirk draws 'pon visage, watching the female intently. he was quite unexpectant of company this long... he had scarely been able to stand other's presense since he had moved. since... the accident

± the reason he was a musician was because of the death of his parents. his father and mother had worked together - his father, a producer, his mother, a singer - to become one of the top singers in the world. it had always been contant money and excess cash... always money, money. money seemed to make the world go `round. he just couldn't understand how little copper coins and green bills could be exchanged for such fabulous things. he had always been like that. while the other 6 year olds climbed trees, he wondered what bark was made of. it was quite uncanny, almost, since his attitude to the world was completly unlike that of his parents. then, then came the accident

± he had been walking home from school one day, his 7th year in this world. there was an ambulance in front of the house... were they shooting another music video? no, people were getting into it. and there were police men too... what was wrong? something was, obviously. he knew it even before he rounded the corner to his street. a cop held him back as he reached for his mother. so many flashing lights, so many noises... and so much pain. later he learned his parents had died of a car crash. the odd thing about it, though, was they died right in their own driveway. a drunk driver came speeding around the corner and crashed smack dab in the middle of their limo pulling out. he had lived in five foster homes, always pulling the `bad boy` attitude to be removed. finally, he couldn't take it anymore and ran away. with every $123 and 42 cents he had. and the guitar he had found in the last of his parent's things. from then on, he taught himself how to play. he played to take away the pain. he played for money on the streets. he played because it was what came naturally, and he felt that was what he was meant to do

± recallation was his past was unnerving, and virile shifts again, but remains in the same basic poise against the edifice. emerald orbs flick up to female, awaiting her response

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