→♪sαςѓэđ♫←
♥↑вαιłэү↑♥
✖Anything....
I could act as mad as I did for quite a while... my parents, openly ditching me? All to favor my gay brother? Was it because I was different? Certainly not, I figured. Rounding a corner, my throat ran to a dry halt and my mouth failed to produce any rations for it, so I mustered up my mind to try and figure out a blasted place to stay that wouldn't rob one for a drink. Hell, even my own blood would suffice, but I would never dare to fall to cannibalism, let alone being a "vampire." Thus, I searched that god-forsaken crowded street to find me either a new place to tingle the curious mind or a place I knew was at least poor man's cheap. As if the gods themselves heard me -- oh praise you, Zeus, you mighty man! -- I saw a cafe that advertised low prices for drinks that melted my muscles to even think about. I waltz in slowly, my eyes looking about. Thanks to my blasted mother, my hair wasn't curly, so I certainly didn't look Greek. I shrugged my little petty complaint away with a mental flyswatter and look a quick glance towards the menu they had blaring out like sirens for the eyes above the counter, on the low overhang from the roof. Squinting, since I dare not trod forward -- I could swear to you my body felt like Sisyphus', what with going back and forth between decisions instead of a blasted rock -- and I dared myself to risk eyesight over one damned drink. Oh, foolish Bailey, I cursed myself out, why must you be such a pest to yourself? I had on a simple white shirt a bit unbuttoned, black slacks, and black shoes -- common as I was, curse me to Hades -- with my hand in my hair to try and reverse my adoptive mother's retarded-amazing skills with a brush. Damn her.
I was broken from this daydream when a customer walked past and nearly took a shoulder with him. a sense of rage washed over my already-torn mind, but I only clutched my teeth and gritted them a bit. "κάθαρμα* ..." I muttered lowly in my native tongue, knowing most people here would stare at me as though I bore two heads and was called a bird. The sheer ice in my tone surpassed what I had done before, so I swallowed my temper and made my way through the cafe to stare up at the sign. Finally! I gleefully thought as I felt the molded strands of hair loosening and waving about as they usually would, had my adoptive mother not have taken that comb to it. Quick to make my judgment, I shuffled my pockets and finally managed to fish out enough of this currency to pay for their so-called "famous" green-tea milkshakes. Honestly, how can *tea* and *milkshakes* go together? That's like mixing chocolate and pitas, and calling it a "Choco-Pita." Trust me, those two are a horrible combination. I would hold a finger up and attempt, in cursing vain, to get a server's attention but they all seemed reoccupied with one thing or another, petty as they may be. I tapped my foot and sighed, looking to the ground in sheer disgust but managed to withhold an outburst. However, anger stole away my tongue, and forced me to spout out "Γιατί δεν μπορώ να πάρετε μια βοηθός!?**" as fury stole me over into a slight haze. When I realized what I spouted was not English, but Latin, my face turned a very light shade of pink and I could only stare at the ground once more. Oddball moment aside, I was assured they find the owner of that sudden unknown language cry. I pray to Zeus no one here knew Latin.
For a few minutes, things hazed and set me into my own reality of dreams when I was still able to afford what I wished, when I wished it. I remember fondly me, and my brother, swinging with mother's lap as our seat and her arms the ropes. Father sat on a chair, rocking himself back and forth idle as he awaited his beloved to return with his prideful kin in tow. His gaunt, scarred face was thanks to a slight war that Argos has faced, and his toga sashed over his muscular body like a royal king. That's what he was to me, anyways. Mother, kind and strong, cared for us with a passion... It hurt to be suddenly tossed out to be raised in a spit-poor place.
Ah, but my mind wanders. I looked up again from the grounds to see if anyone had noticed my plight. If my throat could brandish a weapon and wage war on my innards, it would start with it's brother Stomach, and work it's way through until it's bleated war cry rang my ears and it cut my brain open. To put it in layman's terms, it was as dry as a desert.
To make you smile✖
* = b*****d...
** = Why can I not get a helper!?
[OOC: Thanks to the retardedly long posts I make, please, for Pete's sake, be a little patient with me. xDD;;; I'm not a speed demon -- mebbey in SSBM -- but be glad I'm no snail either. > >;; 'Cause if I was, we'd all have problems. Yes, this be his opening post... xDD;;; And yes, he complains about his mother. IN FIRST PERSON. I *LOVE* FP perspective, because you can get their feelings or thoughts out onto the table and eat it too. <3
... Shutting up now. xD I has to go to bed now anyways... Curse California. xD {::END OF OOC::} ]
