❜BEHIND* the─ ↗doors♔: layouts◥ ↓

[words for glory]

xxxxxxxxxxxx
alkdjflkajslfks
xxx♔: I CAN HEAR THE DRUMMING ♔ I CAN HEAR IT COMING —
═════════════════════════════════════════════════
everything ~

its so(x♔◟ behind every⋮door ⇣ is a fall.x)
▇x ▇x ▇x ▇xxx▇x ▇x ▇x ▇ xxx▇x ▇x ▇x ▇ xxx▇x ▇x ▇x ▇
the radio won't play
xxxxxxNO ONE'S HERE TO SLEEPxxxxxNO ONE'S HERE TO SLEEPxxxxxNO ONE'S HERE TO SLEEPxxxxxNO ONE'S HERE TO SLEEP


please don't post. testing for reload my soul only ~

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
xxxx
»; █ ◟HERE'S THE PRIDE ↙ BEFORE THE FALL ◟♔◝
one two three
xxxxxxx⇨xxxOHxxxYOURxxxEYESxxxTHEYxxxTELLxxxITxxxALLxxxxxOHxxxYOURxxxEYESxxxTHEYxxxTELLxxxITxxxALLxxxxxOHxxxYOURxxxEYESxxxTHEY

[words for glory]

xxxxxxxxxxxx
alkdjflkajslfks
xxx♔: I CAN HEAR THE DRUMMING ♔ I CAN HEAR IT COMING —
═════════════════════════════════════════════════
everything ~

its so(x♔◟ behind every⋮door ⇣ is a fall.x)
▇x ▇x ▇x ▇xxx▇x ▇x ▇x ▇ xxx▇x ▇x ▇x ▇ xxx▇x ▇x ▇x ▇
the radio won't play
xxxxxxNO ONE'S HERE TO SLEEPxxxxxNO ONE'S HERE TO SLEEPxxxxxNO ONE'S HERE TO SLEEPxxxxxNO ONE'S HERE TO SLEEP


⒈ █░ : ♔ ( ⇣ANIME MUSES. )
one two three
xxxxxx⋮& █| ❛kana kassiah deangelo

onetwothreeSTATUS:xxxBARELY ACTIVE. PG #1

xxxxxx⋮& █| ❛ryo

onetwothreeSTATUS:xxxDEAD. PG #2

xxxxxx⋮& █| ❛eliade

onetwothreeSTATUS:xxxDEAD. PG #2

xxxxxx⋮& █| ❛ryder bastille

onetwothreeSTATUS:xxxDEAD. PG #2

xxxxxx⋮& █| ❛nasir

onetwothreeSTATUS:xxxDEAD. PG #2


⒉ █░ : ♔ ( ⇣RL MUSES. )
one two three
xxxxxx⋮& █| ❛thalia ione banos

onetwothreeSTATUS:xxxDEAD. PG #1

xxxxxx⋮& █| ❛stefan

onetwothreeSTATUS:xxxDEAD. PG #1

xxxxxx⋮& █| ❛atlanta

onetwothreeSTATUS:xxxDEAD. PG #1

xxxxxx⋮& █| ❛kiera saunders

onetwothreeSTATUS:xxxNOT ACTIVE. PG #1

xxxxxx⋮& █| ❛gabriel

onetwothreeSTATUS:xxxNOT ACTIVE. PG #1

xxxxxx⋮& █| ❛nikolette "nika"

onetwothreeSTATUS:xxxDEAD. PG #1

xxxxxx⋮& █| ❛alaric

onetwothreeSTATUS:xxxDEAD. PG #1

xxxxxx⋮& █| ❛leviathan

onetwothreeSTATUS:xxxNOT ACTIVE. PG #1

xxxxxx⋮& █| ❛avondale black

onetwothreeSTATUS:xxxNOT ACTIVE. PG #2

xxxxxx⋮& █| ❛rafael

onetwothreeSTATUS:xxxNOT ACTIVE. PG #2

xxxxxx⋮& █| ❛shaun thomas seville

onetwothreeSTATUS:xxxNOT ACTIVE. PG #2

xxxxxx⋮& █| ❛hadrian "hercules"

onetwothreeSTATUS:xxxNOT ACTIVE. PG #2

xxxxxx⋮& █| ❛thane "john smith"

onetwothreeSTATUS:xxxNOT ACTIVE. PG #2

xxxxxx⋮& █| ❛tahvo "tavi" santerri

onetwothreeSTATUS:xxxREVAMPED & NOT ACTIVE. PG #2

xxxxxx⋮& █| ❛caden "kay"

onetwothreeSTATUS:xxxDEAD. PG #2

xxxxxx⋮& █| ❛leviticus "levit" ketch

onetwothreeSTATUS:xxxACTIVE. PG #2

xxxxxx⋮& █| ❛stefanos "stefan" barlos

onetwothreeSTATUS:xxxNOT ACTIVE. PG #2

xxxxxx⋮& █| ❛thanos rathbone

onetwothreeSTATUS:xxxNOT ACTIVE - ALMOST DEAD. PG #2

xxxxxx⋮& █| ❛blair iain maccallan

onetwothreeSTATUS:xxxACTIVE. PG #2

xxxxxx⋮& █| ❛shane beckett

onetwothreeSTATUS:xxxACTIVE. PG #3

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
xxxx
»; █ ◟HERE'S THE PRIDE ↙ BEFORE THE FALL ◟♔◝
one two three
xxxxxxx⇨xxxOHxxxYOURxxxEYESxxxTHEYxxxTELLxxxITxxxALLxxxxxOHxxxYOURxxxEYESxxxTHEYxxxTELLxxxITxxxALLxxxxxOHxxxYOURxxxEYESxxxTHEY

[words for glory]

xxxxxxxxxxxx
alkdjflkajslfks
xxx♔: I CAN HEAR THE DRUMMING ♔ I CAN HEAR IT COMING —
═════════════════════════════════════════════════
everything ~

its so(x♔◟ behind every⋮door ⇣ is a fall.x)
▇x ▇x ▇x ▇xxx▇x ▇x ▇x ▇ xxx▇x ▇x ▇x ▇ xxx▇x ▇x ▇x ▇
the radio won't play
xxxxxxNO ONE'S HERE TO SLEEPxxxxxNO ONE'S HERE TO SLEEPxxxxxNO ONE'S HERE TO SLEEPxxxxxNO ONE'S HERE TO SLEEP




α ɑ ɒ α Ȁ Ȃ Ȧ Ӓ Ӑ Ά Α Λ Ѧ Д ᾈ ᾉ ᾊ ᾋ ᾌ ᾍ ᾎ ᾏ ȁ ȃ ɑ ɒ ɐ ȧ α ά Δ д ӓ ӑ ᾀ ᾁ ᾂ ᾃ ᾄ ᾅ ᾆ ᾇ ᾰ ᾱ ᾲ ᾳ ᾴ ᾶ ᾷ ą α Ā ā Ǎ ǎ Ã ã Ä ä Â â À à Á á Ά ά А Ă ă Ą ą Α α Д д ą α Á á À à Â â Ä ä Ã ã Ǎ ǎ Ā ā Ă ă Ą ą Å å Ά ά Α α А а Д д

в Ҍ ʙ ɓ β Ѣ Ђ Ъ Ь ъ ь Ϧ ɓ ʙ ϐ ѣ б в Ҍ ҍ в ß β Ь ß Ь ß Β β Б б В в Ђ Ъ ъ Ы ы Ь ь

¢ ₡ ɔ ɕ ʗ Ҁ Ҫ ɔ ς ϲ ѽ ҁ ҫ c c c Ć ć Ĉ ĉ Ç ç Č č Ċ ċ ς С с

∂ Đ ɖ ɗ Đ ɖ ɗ ʠ δ ∂ δ Ð đ ∂ đ ∂ Đ đ Ď ď Ð δ

є € Ҽ ξ ɘ ə ɚ ɛ ɜ ɝ ɞ Ȅ Ȇ Ӗ Ѐ Ȩ Ȝ Έ Ё Ε Ξ Σ ξ Є Э Ӭ З Ѯ Ҿ Ҽ Ӛ Ә Ӟ Ҙ ә ə ε έ з є э е ϵ ϶ ȅ ɘ ȇ ȩ ѐ ё ѯ ҿ ҽ ӛ ӟ ҙ ӗ ӭ є ε є э é ε є é É é È è Ê ê Ë ë Ẽ ẽ Ě ě Ē ē Ĕ ĕ Ė ė Ę ę Ə ə Έ έ Ε ε Ξ ξ Σ Е е Ё ё Є є З з Э э ə

ƒ ₣ ɟ Ϝ Ғ ϝ ɟ ʄ ғ Ғ ғ ╒ ƒ Ғ ғ ╒ ƒ

g ɠ ɡ ɢ ʛ Ѡ Ѿ ɠ ɡ ʛ ɢ ɞ ʚ ɕ ɢ ġ g Ĝ ĝ Ģ ģ Ğ ğ Ġ ġ

н Ҥ Ҕ ɥ ɦ ɧ Ȟ Ή Η Ң Ҥ Һ Ӈ Ӊ Ҕ ᾘ ᾙ ᾚ ᾛ ᾜ ᾝ ᾞ ᾟ ʜ ɦ ћ ɧ ȟ ɥ ђ Ћ н ӈ ӊ ң ҕ ҥ н Ħ ħ н Ħ ħ н Ĥ ĥ Ħ ħ Ή Η ђ Н н Ћ ћ

ι ɨ ɩ ɪ Ȉ Ȋ Ί Ϊ Ῐ Ῑ Ὶ Ί ȉ ɨ ɩ ɪ ȋ ϊ ΐ ῐ ῑ ῒ ΐ ῖ ῗ ι ι į ї ι Í í Ì ì Î î Ï ï Ĩ ĩ Ǐ ǐ Ī ī Ĭ ĭ İ ı Į į Ί ί Ι ι І і Ї ї

נʝ Ј ʝ ϳ נ J J Ĵ ĵ Ј ј

к ₭ Ҝ ɮ Ќ Қ Ҟ Ҝ Ҟ Ӄ ʞ ɮ κ ќ қ ҝ ҟ ҡ ӄ к k k Ķ ķ Κ κ К к Ќ ќ

ℓ ₤ ζ ɫ ɬ ɭ ζ ʟ ɫ ɬ ʅ ɭ ʃ ʄ ʆ ℓ ℓ ℓ Ĺ ĺ Ļ ļ Ľ ľ Ł ł Ŀ ŀ

м ₥ ɯ ɰ ɱ Ӎ ɯ ɰ ɱ ӎ м м м Μ М м

η ₦ Ϟ ɲ ɳ ɴ ɴ Ƞ Ν Π Ѝ Ҋ Ӣ Ӥ Ώ Ω Л Й ɲ ɳ ɴ ή π η и й ѝ л ҋ ӣ ӥ ᾐ ᾑ ᾒ ᾓ ᾔ ᾕ ᾖ ᾗ ὴ ή ὴ ή и η η Ń ń Ñ ñ Ņ ņ Ň ň ή η Ν Π π И и Й й Л л П п ŋ ⁿ

σ Ȍ Ӧ Ȏ Ȭ Ȫ Ȯ Ȱ ʘ Ό θ Ѻ ϴ Ӫ Θ Ѳ Ю ф Ὸ Ό ȫ ȭ ȍ ȏ ȯ ȱ ɵ ɸ σ ϕ ό Φ ѻ ѳ ӧ ӫ σ ø σ ø σ Ó ó Ò ò Ô ô Ö ö Õ õ Ǒ ǒ Ō ō Ŏ ŏ Ő ő Ø ø Ό ό Θ θ Ο ο σ Φ О о Ф ф

ρ ₱ Ρ Ҏ Ῥ ρ φ ҏ ῤ ῥ ρ φ p p Ρ ρ Р р

q Ϙ ϙ Ϥ ϥ ϱ q q q

я ʀ ʁ Ȑ Ȓ Я Г Ѓ Ґ я ɹ ɺ ɻ ɼ ɽ ɾ ɿ ȑ ȓ ʀ ʁ г ѓ ґ я я ѓ я Ŕ ŕ Ŗ ŗ Ř ř Γ Г г Ґ ґ Ѓ ѓ Я я

ѕ ʂ Ș Ϩ ϩ Ϛ ϛ ɛ ɜ ɝ ʂ ș s § Ş § Ś ś Ŝ ŝ Ş ş Š š Ѕ ѕ

т ₮ Ϯ ʈ Ț Ҭ τ Ϯ ϯ ʇ ʈ ț т ҭ т τ † τ Ţ ţ Ť ť Τ τ Т т

υ ʉ ʊ Ȕ Ȗ Ώ Ω ц ȕ ȗ ʉ ʊ υ μ ϑ ϋ ύ ΰ υ ů u Ú ú Ù ù Û û Ü ü Ũ ũ Ů ů Ǔ ǔ Ū ū ǖ ǘ ǚ ǜ Ŭ ŭ Ų ų Ű ű ύ μ υ Ц ц

ν Ѵ ʋ ʌ Ѵ Ѷ ɣ ʋ ʌ ѵ ѷ ῠ ῡ ῢ ΰ ῦ ῧ v v v Λ ν

ω ₩ ʍ Ϣ Ш Щ ϣ ш щ ѿ ѡ ʍ ώ ψ Ψ ω ϖ ᾠ ᾡ ᾢ ᾣ ᾤ ᾥ ᾦ ᾧ ῲ ῳ ῴ ῶ ῷ ὼ ώ ω ω ω Ŵ ŵ ώ ω Ш ш Щ щ

χ Ϫ Ж Җ χ Ҳ Ӂ Ӝ ж ϰ ϗ ҳ ӂ ӝ җ x x x Χ χ Ж ж Х х

у ɣ ɤ ʎ Ȳ ϒ ϓ ϔ Ύ Ϋ Υ Ў У ц Ѱ Ӱ Ӯ Ӳ Ӵ Ҷ Ҹ Ӌ Ῠ Ῡ Ὺ Ύ Ч џ ў ү ұ ɣ ȳ ʎ ʏ ɤ Ϟ λ ϫ ӯ ӱ ӳ ӵ ҷ ҹ ӌ φ ץ ч y y Ý ý Ŷ ŷ Ÿ ÿ Ỹ ỹ Ύ γ λ Υ φ Ψ ψ У у Ў ў Ч ч Џ џ

z ʐ ʑ Ȥ ʐ ʑ ȥ ʒ ʓ ȝ z z z Ź ź Ž ž Ż ż Ζ ζ

α в c ∂ є ғ ɢ н ι נ к ʟ м и σ ρ q я s т υ v ω x ч z

⒜ ⒝ ⒞ ⒟ ⒠ ⒡ ⒢ ⒣ ⒤ ⒥ ⒦ ⒧ ⒨ ⒩ ⒪ ⒫ ⒬ ⒭ ⒮ ⒯ ⒰ ⒱ ⒲ ⒳ ⒴ ⒵

Ⓐ Ⓑ Ⓒ Ⓓ Ⓔ Ⓕ Ⓖ Ⓗ Ⓘ Ⓙ Ⓚ Ⓛ Ⓜ Ⓝ Ⓞ Ⓟ Ⓠ Ⓡ Ⓢ Ⓣ Ⓤ Ⓥ Ⓦ Ⓧ Ⓨ Ⓩ

ⓐ ⓑ ⓒ ⓓ ⓔ ⓕ ⓖ ⓗ ⓘ ⓙ ⓚ ⓛ ⓜ ⓝ ⓞ ⓟ ⓠ ⓡ ⓢ ⓣ ⓤ ⓥ ⓦ ⓧ ⓨ ⓩ

ａｂｃｄｅｆｇｈｉｊｋｌｍｎｏｐｑｒｓｔｕｖｗｘｙｚ

ＡＢＣＤＥＦＧＨＩＪＫＬＭＮＯＰＱＲＳＴＵＶＷＸＹＺ

----------------------------------

Ȁ Ȃ Ȧ Ӓ Ӑ Ʌ Ⱥ Ά Α Λ Ѧ Д ᾈ ᾉ ᾊ ᾋ ᾌ ᾍ ᾎ ᾏ • ȁ ȃ ɑ ɒ ɐ ȧ α ά Δ д ӓ ӑ ᾀ ᾁ ᾂ ᾃ ᾄ ᾅ ᾆ ᾇ ᾰ ᾱ ᾲ ᾳ ᾴ ᾶ ᾷ
Ƀ β Ѣ • Ђ Ъ Ь ъ ь Ϧ ɓ ʙ ϐ ѣ б в Ҍ ҍ
Ȼ ʗ Ͻ Ͼ Ͽ Ϲ Ѽ Ҁ Ҫ • ɔ ȼ ς ϲ ѽ ҁ ҫ
Ð • ɖ ɗ ȡ ʠ δ
Ȅ Ȇ Ӗ Ɇ Ѐ Ȩ Ȝ Έ Ё Ε Ξ Σ ξ Є Э Ӭ З Ѯ Ҿ Ҽ Ӛ Ә Ӟ Ҙ ә • ə ε έ з є э е ϵ ϶ ȅ ɘ ȇ ɇ ȩ ѐ ё ѯ ҿ ҽ ӛ ӟ ҙ ӗ ӭ
Ϝ Ғ Ӻ • ϝ ɟ ʄ ӻ ғ
Ѡ Ѿ • ɠ ɡ ʛ ɢ ɞ ʚ ɕ
Ȟ Ή Η Ң Ҥ Һ Ӈ Ӊ Ҕ ᾘ ᾙ ᾚ ᾛ ᾜ ᾝ ᾞ ᾟ • ʜ ɦ ћ ʮ ʯ ɧ ȟ ɥ ђ Ћ н ӈ ӊ ң ҕ ҥ
Ȉ Ȋ Ί Ϊ Ῐ Ῑ Ὶ Ί • ȉ ɨ ɩ ɪ ȋ ϊ ΐ ῐ ῑ ῒ ΐ ῖ ῗ
Ɉ Ј • ɉ ȷ ʝ ϳ
Ќ Қ Ҟ Ҝ Ҟ Ӄ • ʞ ɮ κ ќ қ ҝ ҟ ҡ ӄ
Ƚ ζ • ʟ ɫ ɬ ʅ ɭ ȴ ʃ ʄ ʆ
Ϻ Ӎ • ɯ ɰ ɱ ϻ ӎ
Ƞ Ν Π Ѝ Ҋ Ӣ Ӥ Ώ Ω Л Й • ȵ ɲ ɳ ɴ ή π η и й ѝ л ҋ ӣ ӥ ᾐ ᾑ ᾒ ᾓ ᾔ ᾕ ᾖ ᾗ ὴ ή ὴ ή
Ȍ Ӧ Ȏ Ȭ Ȫ Ȯ Ȱ ʘ Ό θ Ѻ ϴ Ӫ Θ Ѳ Ю ф Ὸ Ό • ȫ ȭ ȍ ȏ ȯ ȱ ɵ ɸ σ ϕ ό Φ ѻ ѳ ӧ ӫ
Ρ Ҏ Ῥ • ρ ϼ Ϸ ϸ φ ҏ ῤ ῥ
Ɋ Ϙ • ϙ ɋ Ϥ ϥ ϱ
Ȑ Ȓ Ɍ Я Г Ѓ Ӷ Ґ • я ɹ ɺ ɻ ɼ ɽ ɾ ɿ ȑ ȓ ɍ ʀ ʁ г ѓ ґ ӷ
Ș Ϩ ϩ Ϛ • ϛ ɛ ɜ ɝ ʂ ȿ ș
Ț Ⱦ Ҭ • τ Ϯ ϯ ȶ ʇ ʈ ț т ҭ
Ȕ Ʉ Ȗ Ώ Ω ц • ȕ ȗ ʮ ʯ ʉ ʊ υ μ ϑ ϋ ύ ΰ
Ʌ Ѵ Ѷ • ɣ ʋ ʌ ѵ ѷ ῠ ῡ ῢ ΰ ῦ ῧ
Ϣ Ш Щ • ϣ ш щ ѿ ѡ ʍ ώ ψ Ψ ω ϖ ᾠ ᾡ ᾢ ᾣ ᾤ ᾥ ᾦ ᾧ ῲ ῳ ῴ ῶ ῷ ὼ ώ
Ϫ Ж Җ χ Ӽ Ҳ Ӿ Ӂ Ӝ • ж ϰ ϗ ӽ ӿ ҳ ӂ ӝ җ
Ȳ Ɏ ϒ ϓ ϔ Ύ Ϋ Υ Ў У ц Ѱ Ӱ Ӯ Ӳ Ӵ Ҷ Ҹ Ӌ Ῠ Ῡ Ὺ Ύ • Ч џ ў ү ұ ɣ ɏ ȳ ʎ ʏ ɤ Ϟ λ ϫ ӯ ӱ ӳ ӵ ҷ ҹ ӌ
Ȥ • ɀ ʐ ʑ ȥ ʒ ʓ ȝ

? Ɂ ɂ ʡ ʢ ʔ ʕ ʖ ˀ ˁ
Ȣ ȣ ȸ ȹ ʣ ʤ ʥ ʦ ʧ ʨ ʩ ɶ ы ʪ ʫ Ӹ ӹ
љ њ Ѹ ѹ Ѫ Ѭ Ѥ ѥ ѧ Ѩ ѩ ѫ ѭ ѱ
҈ ҉
҈ ҉
ʬ ʭ ɚ ɷ ҂ ҃ ҄ ҅ ҆
ʰ ʱʲ ʳ ʴ ʵ ʶ ʷ ʸ ͤ ͥ ͦ ͧ ͨ ͩ ͪ ͫ ͬ ͭ ͮ ͯ ʹ ʺ ʻ ʼ ʽ ʾ ʿ ˌ ˎ ˏ ˑ ˒ ˓ ˔ ˕ ˖ ˗
˂ ˃ ˄ ˅ ˆ ː ˇ ˈ ˉ ˊ ˋ ˘ ˙ ˚ ˛ ˜ ˝ ˞ ˟ ˍˍ

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
xxxx
»; █ ◟HERE'S THE PRIDE ↙ BEFORE THE FALL ◟♔◝
one two three
xxxxxxx⇨xxxOHxxxYOURxxxEYESxxxTHEYxxxTELLxxxITxxxALLxxxxxOHxxxYOURxxxEYESxxxTHEYxxxTELLxxxITxxxALLxxxxxOHxxxYOURxxxEYESxxxTHEY

[words for glory]

xxxxxxxxxxxx
alkdjflkajslfks
xxx♔: I CAN HEAR THE DRUMMING ♔ I CAN HEAR IT COMING —
═════════════════════════════════════════════════
everything ~

its so(x♔◟ behind every⋮door ⇣ is a fall.x)
▇x ▇x ▇x ▇xxx▇x ▇x ▇x ▇ xxx▇x ▇x ▇x ▇ xxx▇x ▇x ▇x ▇
the radio won't play
xxxxxxNO ONE'S HERE TO SLEEPxxxxxNO ONE'S HERE TO SLEEPxxxxxNO ONE'S HERE TO SLEEPxxxxxNO ONE'S HERE TO SLEEP



① ② ③ ④ ⑤ ⑥ ⑦ ⑧ ⑨ ⑩ ⑪ ⑫ ⑬ ⑭ ⑮ ⑯ ⑰ ⑱ ⑲ ⑳

⑴ ⑵ ⑶ ⑷ ⑸ ⑹ ⑺ ⑻ ⑼ ⑽ ⑾ ⑿ ⒀ ⒁ ⒂ ⒃ ⒄ ⒅ ⒆ ⒇

⒈ ⒉ ⒊ ⒋ ⒌ ⒍ ⒎ ⒏ ⒐ ⒑ ⒒ ⒓ ⒔ ⒕ ⒖ ⒗ ⒘ ⒙ ⒚ ⒛

❶ ❷ ❸ ❹ ❺ ❻ ❼ ❽ ❾ ❿ ⓫ ⓬ ⓭ ⓮ ⓯ ⓰ ⓱ ⓲ ⓳ ⓴

⓵ ⓶ ⓷ ⓸ ⓹ ⓺ ⓻ ⓼ ⓽ ⓾
¹ ² ³
₀₁ ₀₂ ₀₃

Ⅰ Ⅱ Ⅲ Ⅳ Ⅴ Ⅵ Ⅶ Ⅷ Ⅸ Ⅹ Ⅺ Ⅻ Ⅼ Ⅽ Ⅾ Ⅿ

ⅰ ⅱ ⅲ ⅳ ⅴ ⅵ ⅶ ⅷ ⅸ ⅹ ⅺ ⅻ ⅼ ⅽ ⅾ ⅿ

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← → ↑ ↓ ↔ ↕ ↖ ↗ ↘ ↙ ↚ ↛ ↜ ↝ ↞ ↟
↠ ↡ ↢ ↣ ↤ ↥ ↦ ↧ ↨ ↩ ↪ ↫ ↬ ↭ ↮ ↯ ↰ ↱ ↲ ↳ ↴ ↵ ↶ ↷ ↸ ↹ ↺ ↻ ↼ ↽ ↾ ↿
⇀ ⇁ ⇂ ⇃ ⇄ ⇅ ⇆ ⇇ ⇈ ⇉ ⇊ ⇋ ⇌ ⇍ ⇎ ⇏ ⇐ ⇑ ⇒ ⇓ ⇔ ⇕ ⇖ ⇗ ⇘ ⇙ ⇚ ⇛ ⇜ ⇝ ⇞ ⇟
⇠ ⇡ ⇢ ⇣ ⇤ ⇥ ⇦ ⇧ ⇨ ⇩ ⇪

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℀ ℁ ℂ ℃ ℄ ℅ ℆ ℇ ℈ ℉ ℊ ℋ ℌ ℍ ℎ ℏ ℐ ℑ ℒ ℓ ℔ ℕ № ℗ ℘ ℙ ℚ ℛ ℜ ℝ ℞ ℟
℠ ℡ ™ ℣ ℤ ℥ Ω ℧ ℨ ℩ K Å ℬ ℭ ℮ ℯ ℰ ℱ Ⅎ ℳ ℴ ℵ ℶ ℷ ℸ ℻ ⅍ ⅎ ⅓ ⅔ ⅕ ⅖ ⅗ ⅘ ⅙ ⅚ ⅛ ⅜ ⅝ ⅞ ⅟

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㊊㊋㊌㊍㊎㊏
㊐㊑㊒㊓㊔㊕㊖㊗㊘㊜㊝㊞㊟㊠㊡㊢
㊣㊤㊥㊦㊧㊨㊩㊪㊫㊬㊭㊮㊯㊰


☽☾✗✘✓ ✔ ☐ ☑ ☒ ✕ ✖✚✪✣✤✥
✱ ✲ ✳ ❃ ❂ ❁ ❀ ✿ ✾ ✽ ✼ ✻ ✺ ✹
✸ ✷ ✶ ✵ ✴ ❄ ❅ ❆ ❇ ❈ ❉ ❊ ❋ ❖
☀ ☂ ☁ ❣ ✚ ✪ ✣ ✤ ✥ ✦ ❉ ❥ ❦ ❧
❃ ❂ ❁ ❀ ✄ ☪ ➸ ♨ ☢ ☠ ☭ ♈ ☮ ☯
♋ ☡ ☢ ☣ ☤ ☥ ☦ ☧ ☨ ☩ ☪ ☫ ☬ ☭
۩ ۞
♔ ♕ ♛ ♚
♠ ♡ ♢ ♣ ♤ ♥ ♦ ♧ ✦✧✩✫✬✭✮✯✰ ☼ ❣
♲ ♳ ♴ ♵ ♶ ♷ ♸ ♹ ♺ ♻ ♼ ♽♯♩♪♫♬♭
☰ ☱ ☲ ☳ ☴ ☵ ☶ ☷ ☚ ☛ ☜ ☝ ☞ ☟
☿ ♀ ♁ ♂ ♃ ♄ ♅ ♆ ♇ ♈ ♉ ♊ ♌ ♍
△ ▲ ☆ ★ ◇ ◆ ■ □ ▽ ▼ ❤❥♎ ♏ ✐✌
๑
♡ ღ☻ ☺ ❂ ◕ ⊕ ☉ Θ o O ♋ ☯ ㊝ ⊙ ◎
◑ ◐ ۰ • ● ▪ ▫ ๑

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ಠ_ಠ ◕ ◡ ◕ °__° ಥ__ಥ
(-`ω´- ) (●ゝω)ノヽ(∀＜●) >_<
⊙▂⊙ ⊙o⊙ ⊙︿⊙　 ⊙ω⊙　⊙△⊙　 ⊙▽⊙
(◡_◡) (◕-◕) (◕o◕) (∩_∩)

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┄ ┅ ┆ ┇ ┈ ┉ ┊ ┋ ⋮ ⋯ ⋰ ⋱
─ ━ │ ┃┌ ┐ ┍ ┑ ┎ ┒ ┏ ┓ └ ┘ ┕ ┙ ┖ ┚ ┗ ┛
┞ ┟ ┢ ┡ ┦ ┧ ┩ ┪
┣ ┫┝ ┥┠ ┨├ ┤
┬ ┭ ┮ ┯ ┰ ┱ ┲ ┳ ┴ ┵ ┶ ┷ ┸ ┹ ┺ ┻ ┼ ┽ ┾ ┿
╀ ╁ ╂ ╃ ╄ ╅ ╆ ╇ ╈ ╉ ╊ ╋ ╌ ╍ ╎ ╏
═ ║ ╒ ╓ ╔ ╕ ╖ ╗ ╘ ╙ ╚ ╛ ╜ ╝ ╞ ╟
╠ ╡ ╢ ╣ ╤ ╥ ╦ ╧ ╨ ╩ ╪ ╫ ╬
╭ ╮ ╯ ╰ ╱ ╲ ╳ ╴ ╵ ╶ ╷ ╸ ╹ ╺ ╻
≡ ≢ ≣ ≤ ≥ ≦ ≧ ≨ ≩ ≪ ≫ ≭ ≮ ≯ ≰ ≱ ≲ ≳ ≴ ≵ ≶ ≷ ≸ ≹ ≺ ≻ ≼ ≽ ≾ ≿
⊀ ⊁ ⊂ ⊃ ⊄ ⊅ ⊆ ⊇ ⊈ ⊉ ⊊ ⊋ ⊏ ⊐ ⊑ ⊒
⊕ ⊖ ⊗ ⊘ ⊙ ⊚ ⊛ ⊜ ⊝ ⊞ ⊟
⊠ ⊡ ⊢ ⊣ ⊤ ⊥ ⊦ ⊧ ⊨ ⊩ ⊪ ⊫ ⊬ ⊭ ⊮ ⊯
⊰ ⊱ ⊲ ⊳ ⊴ ⊵ ⊶ ⊷ ⊸ ⊹ ⊺ ⊻ ⊼ ⊽ ⊾ ⊿
⋀ ⋁ ⋂ ⋃ ⋄ ⋅ ⋆ ⋇ ⋈ ⋉ ⋊ ⋋ ⋌ ⋍
⋎ ⋏ ⋐ ⋑ ⋒ ⋓ ⋔ ⋖ ⋗ ⋘ ⋙ ⋚ ⋛ ⋜ ⋝ ⋞ ⋟
⋠ ⋡ ⋢ ⋣ ⋤ ⋥ ⋦ ⋧ ⋨ ⋩ ⋪ ⋫ ⋬ ⋭

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❛❜❝❞【】〖〗►◄﹃﹄『』◢ ◣◥ ◤
≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎
==== ☠ ====
☆═━┈┈━═☆
± : . : ± : . : ± : . : ±
▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄
╔══════════════╗

╚══════════════╝
┏━━━━━━━━━┓

┗━━━━━━━━━┛
Oº°‘¨ ¨‘°ºO
•°o.O O.o°•
¨°o.O O.o°¨
—¤÷(`[¤* *¤]´)÷¤—
•·.·´¯`·.·• •·.·´¯`·.·•´
`·.(`·.¸ ¸.·´).·´
`·» »-(¯`v´¯)-»
`•.¸¸.•´¯`•.¸¸.•´
`•.¸¸.••´´¯``•• .¸¸.•´
`•.•●•۰• ••.•´
׺°”˜`”°º× ׺°”˜`”°º×
ண
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

_______________________________ . † . † . † . † . † .

. || . || . || |||| |||||| |||||||| ||||||||||

▌▌│║█│║█║

» . » . » . » . » . » . » . » . » . » . » . » . » . » . » . » . » . » . » . » . » . » . » . » . » . » . » . » . » . » . » . » . » . » . » .

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

{☆ ○ ○ ○ ☆}

『 ☆ ☆ ☆ 』

➽➽➽

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

░▓░▒░▓░▒░▓░▒░▓░▒░▓░▒░▓

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▀ ▁ ▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ ▉ ▊ ▋ ▌ ▍ ▎ ▏ ▐
░ ▒ ▓▕ ▖■ □ ▢ ▣ ▤ ▥ ▦ ▧ ▨ ▩ ▪ ▫
▬ ▭ ▮ ▯ ▰ ▱ ▲ △ ▴ ▵ ▶ ▷ ▸ ▹ ► ▻ ▼ ▽ ▾ ▿
◀ ◁ ◂ ◃ ◄ ◅ ◆ ◇ ◈ ◉ ◊
○ ◌ ◍ ◎ ● ◐ ◑ ◒ ◓ ◔ ◕
◖ ◗ ◘ ◙ ◚ ◛ ◜ ◝ ◞ ◟
◠ ◡ ◢ ◣ ◤ ◥ ◦ ◧ ◨ ◩ ◪ ◫ ◬ ◭ ◮ ◯

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¡ † ‡ ↔ ↑ ↓ •«» ¤₯ ƒ ₴ ₥ ₦ № ₧ ₰ £ ៛ ₨ ₪ ৳ ₮ ₩ ¥

– — … ° ≈ ≠ ≤ ≥ ± − × ÷ ← → · §

๑☺ ☻ ☼♣ ♥ ♦·۰•●○●ஐﻬ↔ ↕ ▪ ▫ ▬♦ ◊ ◦♫ ♪ ღˇ √ « » ™ ♂♀ ©№® ◦º°×°º◦ ´¯`·»ºØ´ ׺°”˜`”°º×»- ஆ ௰ Þ ௫

๑•ิ.•ั๑ ๑۩۞۩๑ ✿.｡.: ☂☃ ☄ ★ ☆ ☇ ☈ ☉ ☊ ☋ ☌ ☍ ☑ ☒☢ ☸ ☹ ☺ ☻ ☼ ☽ ☾ ♠ 　 ♡ ♢ ♣ ♤ ♥ ♦ ♧ ♨ ♩ ✙✈ ✉ ✌ ✁ ✎ ✐ ❀ ✰ ❁ ❤ ❥ ❦❧ ➳ ➽ εїз℡❣·۰•●○●

ゃōゃ ♡๑۩ﺴ ☜ ☞ ☎ ☏♡ ⊙◎ ☺ ☻✖╄ஐﻬ ► ◄ ▧ ▨ ♨ ◐ ◑ ↔ ↕ ▪ ▫ ☼ ♦ ▀ ▄ █▌ ▐░ ▒ ▬♦ ◊ ◦ ☼ ♠♣ ▣ ▤ ▥ ▦ ▩ ◘ ◙ ◈ ♫ ♬ ♪ ♩ ♭ ♪ の ☆ → あ ぃ ￡ ❤ ｡◕‿◕｡

＃ ＠ ＆ ＊ ￥☸ ❁ ❀ ✿ ✾ ❃ ✺ ❇ ❈ ❊ ❉ ✱ ✲ ✩ ✫ ✬ ✭ ✮ ✰ ☆ ★ ✪ ¤ ☼ ☀ ☽ ☾ ❤ ♡ ღ☻ ☺ ❂ ◕ ⊕ ☉ Θ o O ♋ ☯ ㊝ ⊙ ◎ ◑ ◐ ۰ • ● ▪ ▫ ｡ ﾟ ๑ ☜ ☞ ☂ ♨ ☎ ☏

︻ ︼ ︽ ︾ 〈 〉 ︿ ﹀ ∩ ∪ ﹁ ﹂ ﹃ ﹄﹝ ﹞ ＜ ＞ ≦ ≧ ﹤ ﹥ 「 」 ︵ ︶ ︷ ︸ ︹ ︺〔 〕 【 】 《 》 （ ） ｛ ｝ ﹙ ﹚ 『 』 ﹛ ﹜╳ ＋ － ﹢ × ÷ ＝ ≠ ≒ ∞ ˇ ± √ ⊥ ∠ ∟ ⊿ ㏒

▶ ▷ ◀ ◁ ☀ ☁ ☂ ☃ ☄ ★ ☆ ☇ ☈ ☉ ☊ ☋ ☌ ☍ ☑ ☒☢ ☸ ☹ ☺ ☻ ☼ ☽ ☾ ♠ 　 ♡ ♢ ♣ ♤ ♥ ♦ ♧ ♨ ♩ ✙ ✈ ✉ ✌ ✁ ✎ ✐ ❀ ✰ ❁ ❤ ❥ ❦❧ ➳ ➽ 〠 〄 ㍿ ♝ ♞

♯♩♪♫♬♭♮ ☎ ☏ ☪ ♈ ♨ ºº ₪ ¤ 큐 « » ™ ♂✿ ♥ の ↑ ↓ ← → ↖ ↗ ↙ ↘ ㊣ ◎ ○ ● ⊕ ⊙ ○　 △ ▲ ☆ ★ ◇ ◆ ■ □ ▽ ▼ § ￥ 〒 ￠ ￡ ※ ♀ ♂ © ® ⁂ ℡ ↂ░ ▣ ▤ ▥ ▦ ▧

✐✌✍✡✓✔✕✖ ♂ ♀ ♥ ♡ ☜ ☞ ☎ ☏ ⊙ ◎ ☺ ☻ ► ◄ ▧ ▨ ♨ ◐ ◑ ↔ ↕ ♥ ♡ ▪ ▫ ☼ ♦ ▀ ▄ █ ▌ ▐ ░ ▒ ▬ ♦ ◊ ◘ ◙ ◦ ☼ ♠ ♣ ▣ ▤ ▥ ▦ ▩ ◘ ◙ ◈ ♫ ♬ ♪ ♩ ♭ ♪ ✄☪☣☢☠

㊊㊋㊌㊍㊎㊏ ㊐㊑㊒㊓㊔㊕㊖㊗㊘㊜㊝㊞㊟㊠㊡㊢ ㊣㊤㊥㊦㊧㊨㊩㊪㊫㊬㊭㊮㊯㊰

✗✘✚✪✣✤✥✦✧✩✫✬✭✮✯✰ ✱✲✳❃❂❁❀✿✾✽✼✻✺✹✸✷ ✶✵✴❄❅❆❇❈❉❊❋❖☀☂☁【】┱ ┲ ❣ ✚ ✪ ✣ ✤ ✥ ✦ ❉ ❥ ❦ ❧ ❃ ❂ ❁ ❀ ✄ ☪ ☣ ☢ ☠ ☭ ♈ ➸ ✓ ✔ ✕ ✖ *.:｡✿*ﾟ‘ﾟ･✿.｡.:

【】〖〗＠﹕﹗/ " _ < > `,·。≈{}~ ～() _ -『』√ $ @ * & # ※ 々∞Ψ ∪∩∈∏ の ℡ ぁ §∮〝〞ミ灬ξ№∑⌒ξζω＊ㄨ ≮≯ ＋－×÷﹢﹣±／＝∫∮∝ ∞ ∧∨ ∑ ∏ ∥∠ ≌ ∽ ≦ ≧ ≒﹤﹥じ☆

■♀『』◆◣◥▲Ψ ※◤ ◥ →№←㊣∑⌒〖〗＠ξζω□∮〓※∴ぷ▂▃▅▆█ ∏【】△√ ∩¤々♀♂∞①ㄨ≡↘↙▂▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █┗┛╰☆╮ ≠ ▂ ▃ ▄ ▅┢┦aΡｐy .......♧♧ ☜♥☞.︻︼─一　▄︻┻┳═一

﹏◢ ◣ ◥ ◤ ▽ ▧ ▨ ▣ ▤ ▥ ▦ ▩ ◘ ◙ ▓ ▒ ░ Café № ＠ ㊣ ™ ℡ 凸 の ๑۞๑ ๑۩ﺴ ﺴ۩๑ o(‧'''‧)o ❆ べò⊹⊱⋛⋋ ⋌⋚⊰⊹ ⓛⓞⓥⓔ べ ☀ ☼ ☜ ☞ ⊙® ◈ ♦ ◊ ◦ ◇ ◆ εїз

☆·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸¸.¤ ~♡のⓛⓞⓥⓔ♡~☃⊹⊱⋛⋌⋚⊰⊹✗/(*w*) ≡[。。]≡※◦º°×°º◦εїз´¯`·»｡｡♀♡╭☆╯ºØغøº¤ø,¸¸,ºº¤øøºﷲﷲ°º¤ø,¸¸,

げこごさざしじすぜそぞただちぢっつづてでとどなにぬねのはば ♪♫╭♥ ๑•ิ.•ัﻬஐ ✎ぱひびぴふぶぷへべぺほぼぽまみむめも

❃❂❁❀✿✾✽✼✻✺✹✸✷ ✶✵✴❄❅❆❇❈❉❊❋❖❤❥❦❧ ☀ o O ＃♡ ┽┊﹎.εїз︷✿‧:﹎｡❤‧:❉:‧ .｡.:*･❀●•♪.。‧:❉:‧ °º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø*.:｡✿*ﾟ‘ﾟ･✿.｡.:*.:｡✿*ﾟ’ﾟ･✿.｡✎*εїз

↔ ↕ ▪ → ︷╅╊✿ ❤`•.¸¸.•´´¯`•• .¸¸.•´¯`•.•●•۰• ••.•´¯`•.•• ••.•´¯`•.••—¤÷(`[¤* *¤]´)÷¤——(•·÷[ ]÷·•)—

〓 ☆ ★┣┓┏┫×╰ノ◢ ◣ ◥ ◤ Ω ж ф юЮ ━╃ ╄━ ┛┗ ┓┏ ◇ ◆ ※ .'. ☂.'.❤ ♥ 『』 〖〗▓ ► ◄ ▒ ░ ▓ ╮╭ ╯╰ ァ ┱ ┲☃ ☎ ☏ ☺ ☻ ▧ ▨ ♨ ◘ ◙ ♠ ♧ ♣ ▣▤ ▥ ▦ ▩ ⊕

׺°”˜`”°º× ׺°”˜`”°º×»-(¯`v´¯)-» ×÷·.·´¯`·)» «(·´¯`·.·÷×*∩_∩* ⓛⓞⓥⓔ ╬ ╠ ╣∷ ღ ☃ ❆ ￡ ∆ ? Õ Ő ő ∞ © ‡ † ? ஜ ஒ ண இ ஆ ௰

♪♪♫▫—(•·÷[ ]÷·•)— ·÷±‡±±‡±÷· Oº°‘¨ ¨‘°ºO •°o.O O.o°• ¨°o.O O.o°¨—¤÷(`[¤* *¤]´)÷¤—•·.·´¯`·.·• •·.·´¯`·.·•´`·.(`·.¸ ¸.·´).·´`·»

»-(¯`v´¯)-»█┗┛↘↙╰☆╮ ≠ ☜♥☞ ︻︼─一　▄︻┻┳═一 -─═┳︻　∝╬══→　::======>>　☆═━┈　┣▇▇▇═─ ■◆◣◥▲◤ ◥〓∴ぷ▂▃▅▆█ 【】

๑۞๑ ๑۩ﺴ ﺴ۩๑๑۩۞۩...¤¸¸.·´¯`·.¸·..>>--» «--<<..·.¸¸·´¯`·.¸¸¤... .•:´¨•☆ •.¸¸.•´´¯`•´❤

℠ ℡ ™ ¶ ₧ № ™ ℅ µ Æ æ Ǽ ǽ IJ ij Œ œ

¼ ½ ¾

✠❖☸☠ ✠

Δ - ▹ - ◆ - ◇ - ◈ - ◉ - ◊ - ○ - ◌ - ◍ - ◎ - ● - ◐ - ◑ - ◒ -◓ - ◔ - ◕ - ☮ - ☯
✓ - ✔ - √
✕ - ✖ - ✗ - ✘
✙ - ✚ - ✛ - ✜
✩ - ✿ - ❀ - ❁ - ❄ - ❅ - ❆ - ❇ - ❤
♪ - ♫ - ♬ - ♭ - ♮ - ♯
✫ - ✬ - ✭ - ✮ - ✯ - ✰ - ✱ - ✲ - ✳ - ✴ - ✵ - ⋆
✈ - ✁ - ✂
♀ - ♂
↖ - ↗ - ↘ - ↙- ↚ - ↛ - ↜ - ↝ - ↩ - ↪ - ↫ - ↬ - ⇒ - ⇦- - ⇧- ⇨ - ⇩ - ➔
↭ - ↮ - ∿
∮ - ∭ - ∯ - ∰ - ∱ - ∲ - ∳
∴ - ∵ - ⋮ - ⋯ - ⋰ - ⋱
⊕ - ⊖ - ⊗ - ⊘ - ⊙ - ⊚ - ⊜ - ⊛ - ⊝ - ○ - ☼
⊞ - ⊟ - ⊠ - ⊡
⋎ - ⋏
⋐ - ⋑ - ⋒ - ⋓
⌘ - ⌠ - ⌡
℥ - Ω - ℧ - ℨ - ℩

¦ º · • ← ↑ → ↓ ↔ ↕

× ÷ − ± π ⁄ ∆ ∏ ∕ ∙ √ ∞ ≈ ≠ ≡ ≤ ≥
☺ ☻ ☼ ♀ ♂ ♠ ♣ ♥ ♦ ♪ ♫
▀ ▄ █ ▌ ▐ ░ ▒ ▓ ■ □ ▪ ▫ ▬ ▲ ► ▼ ◄ ◊ ○ ● ◘ ◙ ◦ Ξ ◕
§ ¬ ⌐ ‰ ′ ″ Ω ⌂
¤ ₪
¨ ¯ ´ ¸ ˆ ˇ ˉ ˘ ˙ ˚ ˛ ˜ ˝ ̀ ́ ̃ ̉ ̣
‼ ¡ ¿ ‽ “ ” „ ‘ ’ ‚ ‛ « » ‹ › … – — ― ‗ ‾ ‌ ‍


☼☽

ღ ♪ ♫ ♥ ♣ ♠ ♦ ● → ⇒ ► ◄ « » ☼ ☆ ☽ ☾ □ ▽ ↘↙╰╮ ¤ ю ◡

`•.¸¸.•´´¯`••.¸¸.•´´¯`•´

ツマシンなバスタドのメデるれはしないだろうりてたもですフクスイワダラテグー。

ィォッァ じ


Г г Ґ ґ Ѓ ѓ ─ ╫╓ ╗ ╚ ╩ ╔ ╬ ╟ ╣ ├ ┤ ╘ ┴ ↔ ↓ ↑ ± Θ

①②③④⑤⑥⑦⑧⑨⑩ ⑪⑫⑬⑭⑮⑯⑰⑱⑲⑳ ⒶⒷⒸⒹⒺⒻ ⒼⒽⒾⒿⓀⓁ ⓂⓃⓄⓅⓆⓇ ⓈⓉⓊⓋⓌⓍ ⓎⓏ ⓐⓑⓒⓓⓔⓕ ⓖⓗⓘⓙⓚⓛ ⓜⓝⓞⓟⓠⓡ ⓢⓣⓤⓥⓦⓧ ⓨⓩ

﹤ - ﹥ - ∝ - ∧ - ∨ - ∥ - ∠ - ≌ - ∽ - ≦ - ≧ - ≒ - ~ - ～ - ※ - ＊ -  - ≮ - ≯ - ＋ - － - × - ÷ - ﹢ - ± - ／ - ＝ - ⊹ - ⊱ - ⋛ - ⋋ - ⋌ - ⋚ - ⊰ - ⊹ - 彡 - ❝ - ❞ - ° - ﹌ - ﹎ - ╱ - ╲ - ☁ - Þ - ௫ - べ - ☪ - ∷ - ≈


ა ბ გ დ ე ვ ზ ჱ თ ი კ ლ მ ნ ჲ ო პ ჟ რ ს ტ ჳ უ ფ ქ ღ ყ შ ჩ ც ძ წ ჭ ხ ჴ ჯ ჰ ჵ ჶ ჷ ჸ


▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
xxxx
»; █ ◟HERE'S THE PRIDE ↙ BEFORE THE FALL ◟♔◝
one two three
xxxxxxx⇨xxxOHxxxYOURxxxEYESxxxTHEYxxxTELLxxxITxxxALLxxxxxOHxxxYOURxxxEYESxxxTHEYxxxTELLxxxITxxxALLxxxxxOHxxxYOURxxxEYESxxxTHEY

[words for glory]

xxxxxxxxxxxx
alkdjflkajslfks
xxx♔: I CAN HEAR THE DRUMMING ♔ I CAN HEAR IT COMING —
═════════════════════════════════════════════════
everything ~

its so(x♔◟ behind every⋮door ⇣ is a fall.x)
▇x ▇x ▇x ▇xxx▇x ▇x ▇x ▇ xxx▇x ▇x ▇x ▇ xxx▇x ▇x ▇x ▇
the radio won't play
xxxxxxNO ONE'S HERE TO SLEEPxxxxxNO ONE'S HERE TO SLEEPxxxxxNO ONE'S HERE TO SLEEPxxxxxNO ONE'S HERE TO SLEEP


please don't post. testing for reload my soul only ~

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
xxxx
»; █ ◟HERE'S THE PRIDE ↙ BEFORE THE FALL ◟♔◝
one two three
xxxxxxx⇨xxxOHxxxYOURxxxEYESxxxTHEYxxxTELLxxxITxxxALLxxxxxOHxxxYOURxxxEYESxxxTHEYxxxTELLxxxITxxxALLxxxxxOHxxxYOURxxxEYESxxxTHEY

[words for glory]

⇨xOHonetwoNOonetwoHEREonetwoWEonetwoGOonetwoONCEonetwoAGAIN
▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰ ▰

SXOXXXRX↷XUXNXXXBXAXBXYXXXRXUXNX❤
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx☂.one of ; thesedays I'll end* up trackingyou ↶ down

SHEEEEE RAAAAA

There were very few things in the world that Kana DeAngelo hated and winter was definitely the top three on the list. Bundled up in a red and white overcoat (because honestly, with her flaming red hair, she wasn’t going to be overlooked in a snow bank), a white long-sleeved shirt over a red tank-top, red gloves with a fuzzy outline, jeans, knee-high socks and fuzzy socks all tucked into some snow boots. Her fiery red hair was partially then hidden by a hat. All but the two braids that fell along her shoulders. Honestly, she probably looked like she was ready for the apocalypse. She would’ve frozen to death otherwise though. With all the accidents she’d survived at home, it wasn’t a huge surprise that her and snow didn’t exactly work out. “I almost wish I had one of Mom’s charms…or Khail’s. Definitely not Cain’s.” Both her mother and two of her brothers—the twins—were masters in the art of fire. On more than one occasions one of the three had gotten angry and the house had burnt down. She was becoming a master in moving and replacing her things. If she’d been thinking about it, she’d have asked her mother to send her a small charm to keep her warm. Maybe ask her brother Khail too, he was the more reasonable of the two…he could probably make a charm that wouldn’t backhand slap her. The main reason she didn’t trust her brother Cain. He poured too much magic into things…because he liked a little mischief.

Kana roamed around a little around the giant snow castle one of her teachers had made for them to hide into for the event. How, she had no idea. “Guess that’s why he’s the teacher and I’m only a student.” Not that she could make something that beautiful and detailed anyway, she could only summon things. For now, the summoner was surveying her surroundings. Periodically, she flinched or ducked out of instinct…just in case someone thought about throwing a snowball at her from behind her back. But that’d be cowardly. At least face me head on if you’re going to try and tackle me. How did she even manage to get herself into this…? She hadn’t been at the school that long and snow wasn’t her favorite friend…but honestly, it sounded like fun. She’d never been in a snow ball fight, her brothers tended to throw fire…and Isaak was too much of a lazy goof to actually throw anything. So she came out to the middle of nowhere and then somehow managed to get herself on a team. Where were her teammates?

She crouched down next to the snow castle scooping up a ball of snow and packing it into a ball. Eye on the prize… she thought to herself. Armed and ready to go, she took note of a few people poking their noses around their fort. That wasn’t going to do. But then again…their teacher had made an absolutely huge fort…for everyone to see. “Was that really necessary…? I don’t’ know if I want to defend this thing.” She remarked sheepishly. But she was on this team, now she was going to fight for it. All she had to do now was attack. But who? One of the other teachers was getting awfully close. But she hadn’t noticed her yet. Was it suicidal to attack a teacher? “I probably shouldn’t let her get this close to the castle…that just makes us look bad.” But attacking her from behind the castle…probably wasn’t a good vantage point.

Glancing around, she noticed one of her teammates, Ialo, hiding behind a nearby snowbank. That might work. But then she’d be putting Ialo in the way too…but then again, he was less easy to spot. With her hair, there wasn’t any hiding. “All right, then, it’s settled.” And off she went. She had to be quick about it. Dropping the previous snowball, and with an attempt to be sneaky, she ran around the castle and slid behind the snow bank. “Ah…uh, hey there! Ialo, right? Uh, nice to meet you, mind if I borrow this? I’m going to try and take out that teacher. Maybe lessen the competition…so yeah. That’s the plan here. Uh, did I say nice to meet you? I think I did.” Well, if I didn’t sound like a bumbling idiot, I don’t know who else could’ve. She thought with a grimace as she rolled up another snowball, aimed, and threw it.

She bit her lip. I’m lucky, it’ll hit her side. If I’m not…well, I guess I should expect counter-fire.


❤XHITPOINTS:: ▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰xxxxx❤XLOCATION:: hiding behind a snow bankxxxxx❤XPARTY:: with Ialoxxxxx❤XACTION:: I think I just threw a snow ball at Ms. Lineweaver...

[words for glory]

reload my soul ~ reload reload!
I WANNA CHASE THIS BUBBLY? ;oI'M UNS-T-O-P-PABLE!XX♚XXI'M UNS-T-O-P-PABLE!
sans p***s mon cheri just a woman, I'm only a little woman Hera, the queen~SO TALK ALL YOU WANT JUST TALK----TALK TALK TALK-----SO TALK ALL YOU WANT JUST TALK-----TALK TALK TALK-----TALK TALK TALK-----SO TALK ALL YOU WANT-----TALK! THAT'S ALL YOU ARE-----TALK ALL YOU WANT ALL YOU WANT
pon poni poni poemi dash? what the ********]: you see? nothing is going to stop me
pon poni poni poemi dash? what the ********]&: you see? nothing is going to stop me
pon poni poni poemi dash? what the ********]&: you see? nothing is going to stop me

May 21st.

The sun was dying around her, blinding her eyes—even behind her sunglasses. Shades of red blended gold, melted kings and queens of the horizon clothing them in royal dye. Flashes of gold from here and there made it hard for her to see, especially the beams that reflected from the band around her wrist. She tried to keep her gaze on the white bones of the Heraion—the burned scars of Hera’s temple—but the dying light prevented her as she stared at the dead dust.

Would you be angry if I chose not to?

The trickle of tourists continued to ebb as the minutes wore on, their numbers fading farther with the light. Greece—any part of her—was a dangerous lady after dusk as any local or traveler knew. Like the rest of the herd, she would have—no, she should return soon, though she found her feet unwilling to move. Two days ago, she’d received a letter—one she never expected to get. Your presence is requested, the letter began, as a recent graduate of the camp. As of late, we’ve discovered that others, like us, have been chosen to fight against the Titans. Like you before, these new chosen are unable to control their powers—as a graduate, your presence is requested to train them. For their sake and the sake of the world, please return to The Camp on May 31st.

She snorted at the embedded memory. There was no author but whoever had penned it, knew her well enough; it had been penned formally, trying to persuade her—appealing to her sense of duty despite her obvious unwillingness when she left the first time. “Και είναι εργάσιμη.” (And it’s working) She muttered bitterly, her nails gripping her elbow. She disliked the power persuasion had over her, America and all its “finery” was not a welcome place to her. Even with a “war” like this—one she wasn't sure she wanted a part of, even from the moment she stepped foot there the first time. She’d wanted no part of it the first time…and even though that outlook had changed from disdain to curiosity, she still had no desire to fight from a foreign home-front. She’d done a vast amount of research over the gods and goddesses of the past, and the more she read, the more questions she had…questions that were left unanswered.

Will it dishonor us both?

Footsteps echoed behind her in the dirt. “Αχ! Εκεί είναι. Εδώ και πάλι? Πάντα είχε μια γοητεία με αυτό το μέρος.” (Ah! There you are. Here again? You always did have a fascination with this place.) She turned slightly as Clio tucked her hair behind one ear. “Δεν μπορώ να το εξηγήσω. Κάτι κρατά καλώντας μου. Ή κάποιος.” (I can't explain it. Something keeps calling me. Or someone.) She didn’t need to look to know the raised brow Clio was sporting at her. “Η αδελφή, είσαι καλά? Έχετε αποφασίσει παράξενο ποτέ μετά την επιστροφή σας από την εν λόγω στρατόπεδο.” (Sister, are you well? You've acted strange ever since your return from that camp.) A pause. She continued to stare at the Heraion. “Δεν είναι τίποτα. Πηγαίνοντας στην Αμερική με έκανε να συνειδητοποιήσω πόσο σημαντική είναι η ιστορία μας, αυτό είναι όλο. Το Ηραίον είναι κοντά.” (It's nothing. Going to America made me realize how important our history is, that's all. The Heraion is close.) She shrugged, glancing at her sister. Clio raised a brow in disbelief. “Μια τέτοια νέα χώρα που δίδαξε αυτό;” (Such a new country taught you that?) Thalia returned with a shrug. “Αμερικανοί πατριώτες.” (Americans are patriotic.) She earned a new shifty-eyed look from her sister; Thalia shrugged again.

“Πιστεύεις στους θεούς, Κλειώ?” (Do you believe in gods, Clio?) “Θα έπρεπε, Θάλεια?” (Should I, Thalia?) She shrugged. “Δεν είναι η θέση μου να το πω σε κανέναν τι πρέπει να πιστεύουν.” (It’s not my place to tell anyone what they should believe.) A frown wormed over her sister’s face. “Θα πρέπει να πάει στο σπίτι. Δεν είναι ασφαλή μετά από το σκοτάδι.” (We should go home. It's not safe after dark.) Clio grabbed her hand…as though afraid Thalia would not follow otherwise.

May 31st.

The camp site was alight with business now. Where she had failed to acknowledge it before, it was painfully obvious to her now as she stepped farther away from her cabin, but not too far. From her recollection of the camp schedule, she was to be rooming with a charge; by default that gave her the burden of sticking close to her assigned room--though she was more than eager to reacquaint herself with the American surroundings again. It would to do if an attack came in the night and she could not find her way. It was easiest this way.

But now, that she glanced over it, she was not alone in her endeavors. Others mingled about, as though old friends, her thoughts drifted slightly. Though she could not be sure, the voices vibrating about sounded...odd, different from her own, was she alone the representative of her gods? It was a wonder to think--an honor even. She smiled as she noted several faces, no names, simply faces. It was a shame she could not sense the nature of powers, that would be useful indeed. At least, she could sense the faint web of power spiraling around her. There was no doubt about it then. But those thoughts were for another time.

She tilted her head at a shallow greeting, consonants running harsh against each other. Not a native speaker, indeed, but she was able to distinguish the words. A Germanic descendant, perhaps? She inclined her head towards him--the greeting itself was directed four-fold it seemed, though she noted that though they were within earshot, all seemed preoccupied with other affairs. She gave a small shrug. "I hardly think introductions were occurring. If they were, perhaps then I missed them as well." Her own command of the language was...easier on the ears perhaps but a distinct accent was laced within her words. Though she had been studying English for years alongside her beloved Greek, such was natural to her now.

Taking in the sight of the newcomer, she had to recoil slightly in her mind. Had he walked all the way here? It seemed he had, at least, spent the evening in the woods from the load and the lack of a nice shave. She had to scold herself--she had no desire to spend any night alone in any wooded area, of course but it was a brilliant idea. What better way to grasp the nature of the landscape? She would...have to consider it herself. "Did you...spend the night out here?" She raised a brow. Best not to give credit if it was not due.

"Ah. My apologies, if you had missed introductions, it seems I am no better." She could hear Clio chirping niceties in her ear. If there was nothing her cordial sister was, it was polite. She learned manners and etiquette far above Thalia, sometimes, though their parents considered Clio's love of theater as an economic...flop, to be kind. But that was besides any and all points. "Thalia Baros."

[words for glory]

│║█ ♠INDENT│║█ ♣INDENT│║█ ♥INDENT│║█ ♦INDENT
xx→XXXONE LAST TRY; I'LL GET THIS ENDING RIGHT
I STILL NEED YOUXXXXI DON'T MEAN TO TEASE YOUXXXXI STILL NEED YOUXXXXI DON'T MEAN TO TEASE YOU
follow you down
LIKE A SOLDIER LIKE A SOLDIER LIKE A SOLDIER↘.xfollowing you like a toy soldier
don't you want to?

( Ｉ　ＭＵＳＴ　ＩＮＳＩＳＴ　ＴＨＡＴ　ＹＯＵ　ＨＡＶＥＮ’Ｔ　ＨＡＤ　ＥＮＯＵＧＨ )
－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－


Well, there sure as hell wasn’t any sleeping going on in this car. Not with Stefan driving—sleeping was a death sentence. If you could even get to sleep; it’d be hard considering the vast amount of screeching tires and short-timed stops—mostly because he’d been drifting in and out of the rational world. What, with the fun he’d had last night, it was bound to be that way. That…and his driving was never very…clean, we’ll say. It wasn’t bad per se but that could be because by his standards, as long as he didn’t crash it was perfect. However by normal standards, what with the California stops, the jetting of the gas pedal every so often, the obnoxious swerving into strange lanes...yeah, there was no chance of sleep with Stefan behind the wheel. But let’s back up shall we?

He hadn’t been the one to suggest the situation, the “escape to the blurry white wilderness” but he’d been complacent enough to go along with it anyway. After all, he had a decent life—running into underground gambling links, drinking into hangovers or into people’s beds—it was common knowledge he kept a few contacts for “strict business” purposes—then every so often, working a shift or two at a local restaurant to pay for an apartment it was likely he didn’t recall the address too. It was, again, common knowledge that he didn’t spend much time there, always out and about doing something, it was a wonder he found time for anything else. He always managed to shove aside time for his friends—the little group he’d, more or less, formed around himself, years ago. He wouldn’t admit to it, but he’d never give it up for the world—party or none. It wouldn’t do to drink alone.

Kei had set the date, carved out the vacation; all he had to do was show up and drive. The driving situation had even been picked out in his favor. He was supposed to drive himself and Chase—his one sided distraction—up to some snow front to spend a winter bliss with friends and strangers. Sounded like a party without the buzz. He had no problem meeting new people; he enjoyed it to some point, assuming there were some drunken dealings and some strip poker. Because there was absolutely no way to go wrong with strip poker.

But that was beside the point, wasn’t it? Either way, Stefan had been out drinking the previous evening, crashing on some couch, in someone’s house—even though the headache in the morning cleared up his vision enough to recognize his sister’s place, a very unhappy sister at that. Apparently, somewhere along the way, some drunken texts sent to her by accident, translated into “come get me” in women-speak. He couldn’t quite understand the translation himself but he did help himself to about half a bottle of Advil and her shower.

“You shouldn’t be driving. Let Chase do it.” He remembered her calling as he left her hand delicately on a hip— a sight so frequent, he imagined she burned a handprint image there. “Ah, I can drive with a hangover. Probably better than I can without a hangover. The worst I could do is kill us. Then I've got Chase for the ride down under. I can think of a worse fates.” He’d shrugged and through her rolling eyes, she made him walk back to his car. He hadn’t minded the walk. It let him catch a cigarette on the way. …but it also made him a half hour late to get Chase. Though that shouldn’t have been a surprise, Stefan was, by default, always a half hour late to anything—as though a curse had been placed upon him, because as he was always late, he also always seemed to walk in on the wrong things. That’s a tale for another time.

He’d skidded his tires when he’d stopped to get Chase, one window rolled down with cigarette smoke curling outside—his little iPod nano plugged into the cigarette lighter, playing some upbeat mumbo jumbo. Exactly the same as he was doing now. One window slightly down with a cigarette lit and the nano playing the same song as before to get rid of an awkward silence. There seemed to be a lot of those lately—sort of. It was different when they were a part of their own group; it was different when there were other people around, but together alone? Jesus could’ve come down on a holy beam of light with a chorus of angels and it wouldn’t have ended the tension. Though the imagery left Stefan chuckling. But Stefan rolled with awkwardness—even if Chase didn’t. Or maybe because it was Chase….that he wanted some light of the tension.

He shifted his foot from the gas to the break as a semi shifted into his lane. He cast a casual glance in the mirror and a swerve into the other so he could pass. “Do you think they’ll play strip poker with me?” He rolled the window up a bit as he finished his cigarette. They weren’t too far away now; he was still sure that TB and GG (Teddy Bear and Goo-Goo Eyes respectfully), would’ve gotten there first. “It won’t be as much fun if they don’t. There won’t be anywhere to go out in this snow but the store.” AKA he’d have to find some way to entertain himself.

He pressed on the gas again. Two minutes in counting. Three. Two. One. Screech. The car slid forward even though he’d slammed the brakes on to park at twenty miles per hour and shut it off. As he’d thought, the other two of their party had already arrived. If he squinted through the white reflection, he could make out two little stick men near the cabin. It looked…cozy, enough, he supposed but definitely one of those 'curl up around the fire, kiddo’s and make some smores’ kind of place. Something he hadn’t been familiar with in years. But smore’s sounded absolutely phantasmal, he had to admit. Did he bring any marshmallows? He’d have to check. “Shall we?” He grinned as he gently kicked his car door open.

He only had a few bags, more like one and a half—he was simple and complex all in the same run. He could easily entertain himself with a deck of cards and a slinkie. Or liquor. He loved that too. So mostly, the bag over his shoulder was clothing of assorted sorts. He didn’t bring much by way of food, considering he’d go insane if he stayed inside for the entirety of the trip—meaning he more than accounted for a store-trip or five.

Stefan hardly waited for a complementary answer from Chase. As soon as his ex-lover had grabbed his things was Stefan dragging him to catch up with the others with some energy marked in school-children. The other two had barely gotten through the door. He'd just caught the end tail of a conversation. "Only 'cause CP time dictates that I have to be exactly a half hour behind you. But my driving dictates that I catch up. It's quite the conundrum really." He remarked with a grin in defense of himself. Catching sight of new people, one rough looking blonde and a little puppy of a person, he gave an offhand wave. "Sup, sexy?" A general greeting to, well, everyone within earshot. Because that was a much better greeting than Hello, my name is Stefan."

ooc: click the card suits for extra things. o uo ~

[words for glory]

Tick tock went the clock. Click click against the shadows outside the room. It wasn’t wise to lean out the windowsill but she never claimed to be anything short of a daredevil. There was only one price to freedom after all. “But it’s hard to be free with your feet on the ground~” She hummed to nothing at all save the stars, the lights, the laughing couples below her building. She lived alone in a one room apartment—no pets and a lover that changed every weekend. Just the way things were; movable, changeable. She laughed, shifting her knee to lean it against the window sideways as she checked her balance. She wanted to fly not fall. With the wings of a butterfly ~

She glanced behind her into the shadow crusted apartment, lit only by the street lamps outside—radiant almost, picturesque. She could see the faint white glow from her iHome in the other room and hear the sound of the clock near her head amidst the college noises outside. A few minutes more; she had a few minutes more to spare before it was show time. “It’s beautiful out here, I wish you could see it Kita. If we’re really related at all, you’d really love this.” She giggled, tipping her body slightly outside the window frame to get a better glance of the concrete and asphalt mixture below keeping her grip tight on the frame, nails scratching the stone work. A group of boys passed below, a lit joint in their hands, passed around like licorice with assorted laughs of approval. She really loved college—there was so much life both good and bad.

Speaking of life, she should’ve been spending hers elsewhere now. Indoors was so mainstream now. She laughed as she ducked her head inside, almost banging the sides of her jaw where she leaned in too far. She nimbly leapt away from the window, leaving it open, if anyone had the gall to fly up to the third floor of her apartment complex and dip in through her window, they were welcome to all the food in her fridge. Surprisingly enough, with all the extraordinary people around, her area at least had little to do in the way of crime. At least to her knowledge and that was no small part to her always open window. She couldn’t help it, she enjoyed the breeze that blew through every so often, she enjoyed the air, the smell, the light, everything. It was freedom. And she wanted to be a part of the inter-city puzzle.

She ducked into her room, peeling off the faded multi-colored tee and pants fashionably ripped along the sides and tossing them in the direction of the clothes basket. Whether or not they actually made it there was a topic of philosophical debate. With little regard to the dimness of the room, she pulled out a blue sequin top she discovered some time ago, along with a set of shorts, shoes, and other accessories. Perfect clubbing material. She couldn’t stay inside on such a beautiful evening; she’d have to arrest herself if she did. This would be quite entertaining from every standpoint she had to admit—she would have to try it sometime. Finishing up her ensemble, she groped for her phone, conveniently on the other side of her bed. She flomped and stretched out for it, feet tilted in the air as she scrolled through her contacts. “Nope, nope, nope.” Frankly, she knew an ungodly amount of people; some from her protests, she attended the Queer’s and Allies meetings regularly, but many of them didn’t quite attend the same social circles she did—even if she loved every single one of them. Many of them, except the Allies, refused to enter a straight club; Atlanta didn’t have a problem, she adored straight clubs as much as she adored the gay ones. Straight clubs had simplicity to them; you were there to dance, drink, or laugh. Gay clubs were more homey, everyone was welcome, everyone was open—no pressure, no hiding. And regulars—like herself—were a family. Tonight, she was feeling…wild, peckish almost for a little adventure—the way some girls always did. So it was off to Heaven tonight and she knew exactly who to take with her.

Mason:
Hey! You wanna meet me at Heaven in 20~?

- Ata <3

She sent the message as she rolled over landing her boots on the carpet. She heard the ping of her phone going off but didn’t need to read the message. Mason would’ve have said no, he was her wingman. He’d always go to Heaven with her. Sure enough when she glossed over it, he said he’d escort her if she wanted. She quickly texted back that there wasn’t a need, they could meet halfway and head from there. She’d wait on 23rd and wait for him there. She shoved her phone in her pocket and headed out. Only her boots kept her from scaling out the window, she couldn’t afford to break another pair, leaving her lot with locking the door behind her and blowing a kiss to the forlorn open window.

She trekked down the street, illuminated by streetlight like a glittering disco ball. Every so often she would twirl, take a deep breath, hold her arms out and behind her back as she trekked backwards until the sidewalk ended. She would cross the street, rinse, lather, repeat. People always talked about a country air—she couldn’t remember such a thing but there was a certain tang to the city. As long as it wasn’t completely overrun, she realized. A delicate blend of nature and man. There was a synthetic, erotic essence to that. She held her hands behind her head as she walked, idly glancing from house to house, a light on here, a light on there, until she reached the corner of a busy street. 23rd. She stopped, it was a convenient meeting ground. It wasn’t far from his place and it wasn’t far from hers. Mason was always a gentleman—insisting on taking her home, escorting her here or there if she invited him out. It was sweet, really, a courtly gesture long thought forgotten; she enjoyed it some days, though she insisted on going her own way as always. Nothing tied her back, she preferred that. Until she found her balance, she didn’t want to fall. But fate didn’t always go as planned.

She glanced up; a long tree, twisting and winding, rose over a grated fence, clashing over the sidewalk. Beautiful really. A notion fell over her as she glanced once, this way and that, before skipping until her hands grated on the metal coat and pulled her over the fence with a small hop into a backyard. Fearless. With a sense of pride, she reached up onto the lowest branch, feeling the blisters burn into her skin and the bark grate under her nails. She ground a boot into the side, one then the other until she made enough progress to swing herself onto the branch; she repeated the process until she made a decent ascent into the twilight—just enough for her to see across the street as she awaited her untimely gentleman.


L-LETS G↺ ↓GERONIMO

[words for glory]

*COCKED & READYXX▪▪XSO CROSS THE LINExxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx( FIREHAWK )

▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇
xxxxnever looking never looking back

reload my soul→XX→XX→XXLIKE A MANIAC!


They tell me I’m a danger to myself, now the crazy train is ready to roll~ Walk that walk like you don’t give a ********] “How convenient that I don’t.” A small snicker as the iHome continued to play in the background. I wanna lose my mind like a maniac and cross the line never looking back… Small flip of hair when she turned from the music player to the window again. One leg curled up on the windowpane, the other stretched out to keep her balance—not that she needed it, even if she fell, she wasn’t afraid. Thanagarians have no fear. We fight until the last one standing. A small smirk lit her face as she continued to gaze out the window, humming along with the tune in the background.

The iHome was set as an alarm, kept to prevent her from sleeping all day, though she found the idea absurd and impractical but it was habit. She didn’t sleep much as it was. Hawks never did—because she liked to keep her eye on everything. Because sparring with Kenny wouldn’t always keep her occupied and this city was “a cesspool of morons and criminals” her mother once told her. Maybe that was why she didn’t leave. She could’ve left, she could’ve gone anywhere after walking out on her mother. But she didn’t. She stayed. She and her twin brother stayed in the same old city with its same old crime. Maybe it was the familiarity, it made things easier. Maybe it was the crime, the thrill of a fight…that always kept her going. That tiny little rush she felt when her fist collided with someone’s nose—the little streak of red that followed. There was something satisfying about it. Maybe the familiarity of the place kept her in check. She didn’t know and all the ******** she could’ve given were gone with the wind.

Don’t you dare walk out the door, Kiera. Stay home with your brother. Stay home with your brother! Her eyes flitted around—target to target—a nice perk of being a “Hawk” was the perfect vision. But it wasn’t a benefit if there wasn’t a thing to look at. People bored her, humans bored her. Her mother had taught her how to fight but never how to feel. She knew the thrill of a hunt…and hawks were birds of prey through and through. She knew to never back down from a fight, she knew she could never lose, she knew that strength was absolute. Thanagarians bow to no higher power. A faint memory called causing her smirk to appear yet again. She never bowed. Not to her brother—though they were evenly matched in battle—and certainly not to her mother, whose weaknesses almost embarrassed her now. It was her mother’s weakness that caused her to leave after all, and her mother’s weakness that failed to bring her back.

Neck slightly bent, she ran her fingers through her hair, pulling up and back then letting it fall again as she finally stretched her legs from their former position. It was always annoying when they started to cramp up. “I wanna lose my mind ~” she sat with her back to the open window now, moving her neck in a small circle to work the kinks out. She had a few hours to kill—before her untimely meeting with Yara, her friend and fiery banter-partner. They were going to ‘tear up the town’ again…and if the rust-haired Thanagarian had anything to do with it, it was going to be literally. Another thrilling hunt—disappearing until dawn broke out, maybe with a partner, maybe without, it depended on her mood, but there was always something dangerous in the places they went to. And where there was fear there was the thrill again, always hidden in some music note. Maybe that was the addiction in dancing until dawn.

She jabbed the power button with her finger to turn the music off as she stepped into the other room. The television flickered in the background; someone left it on last night, it seemed. Strange, she couldn’t recall who. She stepped around the futon-couch, ignoring the threat of flashing lights when a loud beep shattered the screen as an alert went up. She flinched. There was nothing more annoying than a high pitched noise…well that and a man with no balls.

“Breaking News: Arkham Asylum break. Ten inmates confirmed to be in Gotham City. All residents are asked to remain indoors. Repeat, escaped inmates, proceed with extreme caution.” The television screeched at her in loud letters. Another smirk. She leaned her arms against the back of the couch as the bulletin flickered across the screen. “Now if only the authorities could tie their own shoes.” She snickered, pushing off away from couch and back to her window.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There was always some danger in the free-fall. Plunging deeper and deeper into the known abyss, always wondering if something would go wrong when she tried to stop. It was its own kind of thrill in a way. She couldn’t ‘fly’ like her mother could. She didn’t have wings. She couldn’t propel herself or balance enough to continue the flight—she could only fall. But she could bend gravity long enough and hard enough to break it, that she was sure of. Though, to be fair, there were very few things Kiera Saunders was not sure of.

The plunge continued, the wind whistling around her, tearing at her feet, her hands, her head. A normal human would have been snapped and dead like a twig by now but she was still hurtling as the ground dove closer into view. With the ground in clear sight, she decided the thrill had been long enough as the force of gravity fell heavy against her…then shattered. Her momentum broke and recoiled against her as she slammed into the ground, concrete pieces rising and falling. The force alone caused her to step back to steady herself, her fingers dislodging pieces that had buried themselves into her legs and hands. Nothing was without casualties; she knew that with the bits of trickling blood and the small sting where her body was attempting to repair itself from the fall.

She tilted her head at the sound of screams in the distance. Were villains always so loud? “I suppose they have a lot to make up for~” A smirk fell against her skin as she pulled her phone out, texting someone she knew would be around here…somewhere.

Don’t be late or there might be nothing left for you to do ~
- Kiera

Sent. She pushed her phone away and took off in a sprint towards the location…or locations of said screams. “Pussies. At least they make nice beacons.” She muttered under the sound of screams and sirens. She was getting close now. She slowed at a sound of a loud thump and the smell of singed scales. And underneath the havoc was a Wonderboy. She tilted her head, arms crossed. “Well, now. Here, I thought Ken Dolls were all plastic, no action. Do you come with a Try Me button?” Her eyebrow raised in an almost amused fashion. Not that it was the time to get distracted, what with sirens and policemen marching all over the place, but a dead gator was at least a halfhearted sign of decent fight. And she knew Wonderboy’s power well enough, who didn’t? Though she’d never found him impressive enough to keep her anything but occupied for a minute or two. She could afford that now, couldn’t she? After all, there were only, what, ten escaped criminals?

“Miss! Please, please, you have to get inside.” She idly turned her head. Ah, the Useless Brigade, Champions of Utter Failure in shining blue. She made a sweeping gesture. She retorted, a bored look falling over her face. But the policeman seemed about as concerned with her as she was with him. “Miss, you really ne--!” Streaks of crimson spurted as her fist collided with his face. She’d held back her punch, but clearly not enough. She’d knocked him off his feet and onto the ground. With luck, she’d broken his jaw. “Whoops. Fist slipped. My bad.” She gave a small shrug, settling one hand on her hip. “Why don’t you do us both a favor, useless little twit.” She smiled, almost like she meant it, almost. “Do your job and run on home. I don’t hold back when people get in my way.”

But she didn’t wait for the aftermath. That little spat pushed her off her good mood, she hated it when people got in her way. Absolutely abhorred it. And the guilty didn’t usually last long. Now she wanted a challenge; a really good challenge. She gave Superboy a sidelong glance. “Maybe we’ll dance later, hm~? You know, if you draw on some parts.” She smirked, turning on her heel, stalking off, pulling her hair back behind her as she walked.


GETTING* |CRAZY xx→LIKE WE'VE GONE CUCKOO

walk that walk like you don’t give a ******** walk that walk like you don’t give a ********
walk that walk like you don’t give a ********] walk that walk like you don’t give a ********
walk that walk like you don’t give a ******** walk that walk like you don’t give a ********]
walk that walk like you don’t give a ******** walk that walk like you don’t give a ******** walk that walk like you don’t give a ******** we don't give a ********]

[words for glory]

[The café was bustling at this point in the midafternoon with sins gallivanting in and out along with their human customers. It only put the angel of charity more on edge and deftly more aware as he glanced from several focus points behind his shades. As much as he cared for his brethren, he didn’t care for their choice of venues. The café was probably one of the easiest places to succumb to a surprise attack, what with the giant window and everything. Not that he expected the sins to be that bright or that tactile but he had taught himself long ago to never underestimate any foe. Especially when some of the major players entered the scene; he noted Wrath’s presence and Pride’s, Greed as well when the door chimed in. Pride and Wrath he would keep his eye on, Greed was only a mid-range opponent but still something to keep in check. So far it seemed their uninvited guests were keeping to the pavement—for now. Though the promise of signing up inadvertently promised disaster to Hadraniel’s event. Didn’t their presence give him more of a reason to stay vigilant from the sidelines, though?

Hadraniel certainly didn’t think so. When Gabriel returned his attention to him he found him in full ‘puppy mode’ with his lip in a soft pout and forced tears in his eyes. It was enough to take him aback in part because Gabriel was generally the most willing to sacrifice anything for a fellow angel. And he was sure Hadraniel knew that well enough to use to his advantage as he went from puppy to an almost begging lecture. “That.” He paused, folding his arms gently over his chest; the pause was the only way to keep his streak and composure. “Doesn’t work on me, Haddy.” Though he preferred using their full names, days of the others using nicknames had worn down on his professionalism. A win in their court, he supposed. A small grimace formed on his lips. “I don’t see the point in changing shirts when it’s easier to go without. I only want to shower once a day, considering how the traffic is.” He shrugged gently, referring to space they shared with the sins. Though it helped his argument, it wasn’t a keystone towards it. He’d still only want to take one shower a day and considering how much he worked, sweating through shirts wasn’t ideal. “Stubborn? I’m a fighter not…whatever you want to call it. ‘Speed-dating’ isn’t on any of my agenda’s. How would that be work? I’d think it’d divide my attention even more, having to focus on a lady in front of me and making sure no one else causes trouble around me.” He took a glance to the window before speaking again. Though Hadraniel had a point in saying he had nothing better to do with his time, besides work or work-out, it was important to note that he could easily fill his time with other things. “I’m capable enough in finding something else to do.” He reminded him, his brow raised and hidden behind the shades covering his eyes. He made no comment on how easy it would be, he couldn’t form a complete argument to the flattery. However, a small smile appeared as Hadraniel promised to bother him for the rest of eternity. “Don’t underestimate my patience.”

His head titled slightly as Pride supposed he’d grace them with his time, noting also how Hadraniel almost shuddered at his presence. “You’re more than welcome to leave, invited even. Though if choose to stay, I’ll extend the same courtesy I granted your friends. Make trouble and it’s a one way trip out the window. If your ego can handle being on its a**.” With luck, that reminder would reassure Hadraniel that he’d let nothing happen to him or anyone. Even if the odds were stacked against him, he’d still try; he’d die first before letting any one of them get hurt. That was simply Gabriel.

Another chime and Machidiel appeared with his bubbling optimism. That was something they needed now, he had to admit. Ever bright, the angel commented on how ‘they could handle them’. “Of course, that was never the worry.” He remarked with an almost cool smirk as Machidel darted off for the kitchen to make something for the menu. Brownies, by the sound of it. He had to admit, though Gabriel had a low sugar craving, Machidiel could make anyone want a brownie simply by being in the kitchen. However, he had no talent with making his own drinks—and severely took advantage of Gabriel’s sleight of hand in the area. Enough times that Machidiel didn’t have to say what he wanted.

Drink making was a strange trick he’d picked up over the years. As time wore on, he’d noticed heavily the humans flocked to places like bars, where drinks were served frequently and where people went, so did Gabriel; places like that made it easy for him to keep an eye on his target. Eventually, it’d seemed logical to learn the trade. So he did. Though he was certainly better at serving liquor, he’d quickly accustomed himself to making coffee and other local favorites. It wasn’t as difficult as it sounded. "One of these days, you’re going to have to learn to make your own coffee, Mac.” He rolled his eyes slightly accompanied by a small shake of his head as he made a motion to join Machidiel behind the counter.

His advance was stopped when another chime announced the presence of Cassiel and Cassiel announced his own presence when he wrapped his arms around his neck when his back was turned. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his head leaning slightly to the left as Cassiel mussled his hair. That earned him a small disapproving look. “So would you.” He commented with a shrug, still not bothering to move him, Cassiel would move of his own accord. “So you can go have fun for the both of us, yeah?”

ooc: > >; post is a post is a post

[words for glory]

▐░✦I wonder, would I give my life
▬▬▬▬Could I make that ✄SACRIFICE
If it came↘↘ down to it. xxxCould I take the bullet, I would
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬Yes I would
You don’t think about right You don’t think about wrong
≫You just do what you gotta do, to defend your own I’d do the same for you
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬Yes I would❣

“Colonel.” The man in front of him saluted.

“Major.” He returned the gesture in kind then went back to scribbling something on the page. A crappy form of a sign-off. Seeing as he spoke, wrote, and understood several languages by this point in time, it wasn’t that much of a stretch to see how they blended together when he put his name on the page. Aviel Sayar. Israeli. Twenty-six. Profiled. After signing so many papers for one day—it took a bit of wonder that he didn’t sign Gabriel instead. They still almost didn’t trust an Israeli commander. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

“Did you need something Major?” He didn’t look up from the second paper but he could tell Major Hewitt was still standing there; almost awkwardly if it wasn’t for the fact that he was a major.

“Permission to leave, sir.” Sir. The formalities here always killed him. He hadn’t quite gotten used to them or the ‘position’, Lieutenant Colonel, Commander of the 2nd battalion. He was more a soldier than an officer anyway, he always had been, from day zero and onward. He’d chosen that. He’d wanted that. Yet here he was, signing papers, curled up behind a desk; not exactly the place he wanted to be but had to be for now. He’d been in and out of the war—the benefits of not exactly being human—something he was good at, until he was recalled here. He’d had to shift gears with the army in order to return from “deployment” and end up in the same place as the rest of them. Although a part of him missed the front lines, there were benefits to coming home too.

“You don’t need my permission to leave, Major. We’re back home now. Get the hell out of here.”

“You outta get out of here too, Colonel. You stay too late around here as it is. Heard from some of the guys you’ve been hanging around Nellis. Wouldn’t want to lose you to some damn flyboys.” Gabriel rolled his eyes a bit. Though considering his status, there was a reason he hadn’t signed up for the Air Force which was more prominent in Nevada than the army; he preferred more hand-to-hand combat. But there weren’t any armed forces outposts out here; the Air Force ruled this area.

“You aren’t losing anyone. Sometimes I go to watch them practice is all.”

Major Hewitt chuckled. “You getting a bit edgy being off the lines too?”

“We get moved from the middle of everything to the middle of nowhere in a second. Of course I am.”

He laughed. “Glad to see I’m not the only one then, sir. See you in the morning.” Gabriel nodded and the door shut behind him.

He leaned back in his chair a bit. It was getting late. The recruiting station closed at five but he tended to stay after hours finishing up paper work—applications mostly, though because of his station, he’d gotten a few notes from the army supply depot out west. It seemed it was a bit fishy for someone of his station and background to be all the way out here working from a recruiting station. Sometimes they wanted him to take extra work—since he was here and all that. The Major would be shipping out tomorrow though. It was the least he could do for him there since obviously he wasn’t going anywhere. He had more important things to do. Like keeping an eye on sins, which was his main mission and the reason he’d pulled himself away from the human war.

He glanced at the clock, it was nearly six thirty; he was almost done with all his ‘human work’. Time to work on the other things. Gabriel grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and headed out.

He left the jacket hanging over his shoulder as he left and locked up the place for the night. While the heat of Nevada couldn’t compare to Iran or Iraq, it wasn’t a picnic either. He still had a few hours to make a few rounds…so that’s what he did. Check all barrier points; let nothing in, nothing out. All the sins were rounded up in one location—though he doubted they quite saw it that way, but it was at least convenient for him—all he needed was the word to get rid of them all. There was a strange silence about it that he couldn’t ask about. In fact, he’d been off Heaven’s radar for more than a few years now while he was ‘playing war games’ with Man. Sometimes he preferred stepping off the grid; over the years he found himself more inclined towards humans than before. It was growing harder and harder to keep up the ‘trained killer’ mentality. Some decisions didn’t make sense no matter how he looked at them.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time again. Nearing seven thirty. Still had time. Nothing seemed terribly out of the ordinary. Why had they all gathered here of all places? It only made it more convenient. What was going to happen next? Another question he wasn’t able to ask. A part of him was getting tired of missions with a few lines of detail but he wasn’t able to question that either. Follow and obey. Those are your ultimate orders, Gabriel. Never forget that.

“Mm, never.” He shrugged slightly. How could he forget that?

He spent the next hour at a local gym with his fist against a punching bag. More and more he was falling into a set routine. The desk work was aggravating. Had he been fighting so long he didn’t know how to behave outside it? He was getting edgy, he could feel it, and he hated himself for it. He wanted a good fight—but didn’t have the orders for it. So he took it out on a punching bag. One, two, three. He had to be careful though. If he didn’t ‘hold back’ some, he’d break the chain on the bag. The benefit of being an angelic attack dog was the super-strength. The downside was that it didn’t take off the edge as much as he wanted to. He managed an hour of sweating it out before he hit the showers and debated how to finish off the evening.

He’d finished zipping up his pants then idly scrolled through the very short list of contacts he kept on his cell phone. There was only one name of importance though. Cassiel. He was living with Cass ever since he “returned” from the frontlines. He probably shouldn’t have but he didn’t regret that. Cass was one of the perks of coming back here. He dialed the number. “Hey, you hungry?”

[words for glory]

FROM STEEL GUITARS AND OTHER s**t

WE'VE ONLY G↺T 4 M»INUTESXXX♫ )xx4 MINUTES TO SAVE THE WORLD

*DON'T WASTE TIMEXX▪▪XARE YOU HESITATING?

It’d been the perfect plan, you know. The messy heartbreak, a clean getaway…she had to be proud of herself for that one; she honestly had been. Not that she had a lack of good ideas, oh no, far from it but this one had some finesse about it that she adored. She found herself pondering it for a moment as her fingers flew across the keyboard in her reworking of Adele’s “Turning Tables”, each note from her piano chiming crystalline until she snagged a wrong chord. She shook her head, tilting it slightly to glance a look at a black and white spotted feline sitting on the edge of her piano seat. “It was a nice attempt, wasn’t it sweetheart?” She smiled softly as she scratched the cat’s ears and left the bench.

She hadn’t had a say in any of it. She’d practically announced it to Delilah’s dismay. They were going on a trip, they were having fun, they were going out. In that she and Paige could agree without words. She was tired of seeing Delilah’s pouting, moping, face. “Ditching his punk a** was the best decision you ever made.” She’d said countless time after the messy breakup—the destruction she not-so-silently approved of. He’d never been right for her or right by her. How many times had she said that? “You have no right to sit in the emo corner over him.” She’d said the day after, when Delilah had practically locked herself in. Not that she’d listened. So Nika had done something to force her to. She’d planned a vacation trip for her in Santa Monica. And like hell was she saying no to that.

“What’s the point in going out if you aren’t going to look nice?” She’d replied as she approved and disapproved of Paige’s choices. It hadn’t been long since they’d arrived, long enough for her to unpack her equipment. The things she never left behind, some clothes, other things. But not long enough before Paige decided she was bored and it was time to ‘hit the town’. Nika couldn’t disagree really—the idea of a bass pulse and the mesh of quarter notes was her idea of a night out. The dancing ritual she could go without, the music was the main show for her.

“Your taste is absolutely ridiculous. She wants to look attractive—without the touch of hooker you know.” She commented idly as Paige thrust a shirt that was a bit too low cut. She tapped her fingers against the bedpost. Poor Delilah looked…well, frustrated. She chuckled. “You’re not getting out of this, so relax.” She shifted, shaking her head at another one of Paige’s recommendations. “Oh to hell with this.” She rolled her eyes and went through the clothing herself. Never trust Paige to come up with a decent attractive outfit. Not for Delilah, who would rather slit her own throat than wear most of the things she was rummaging through her fingers. No, no, no… In her mind’s eyes, she had her own outfit already picked out. A violet top with a sweeping single sleeve and belt, accompanied by a black skirt, black stiletto’s and amethyst jewelry. Sexy enough to show off her curves and keep her hair to her neck, but classy enough to repel most ‘one night stand’ vibes. Sure, it wouldn’t stop the stray drunk but she could handle her own in that department as well. She didn’t come for that, she came to drink and have fun with friends.

“Try this.” She held the outfit out to Paige first for approval. The girl scrunched up her nose at first but accepted the jeans and top. “There, go, go.” She shooed Delilah off into the bathroom to change, sweeping her hair back a bit. She hadn’t quite decided how she wanted to wear it—she’d been a bit too focused on Delilah. Delilah scuttled away with Nika half fearful she would hide in the bathroom all night and try to force them to leave without her. But she hadn’t. And Nika played with her hair, pulling it into loose curls at the ends and a braided ponytail before dubbing her ‘decent’ and sending her off while she changed and put her own make up on.

Their arrival at the club was interesting enough; Paige stole the sweater Delilah had wrapped herself up in. “We didn’t go to all this trouble for you to look like a wallflower.” Nika remarked in her matter-of-fact-attitude. “Now come on.” She’d practically had to shove her at the club’s door, the music bleeding nonchalantly into the night. The sheer noise level was almost a seventh heaven—though it could’ve stood to be slightly less. Some non descriptive beat hummed into her bones as they walked in. She made a mental note to remember the lyrics and find the song later, perhaps she could make a piano mix with it.

For all intents and purposes, Delilah might as well have been a wallflower the way she was sticking to her side like glue—staring at any boy that stared at her. No doubt imagining how she’d skin them if they came close enough. She rolled her eyes. “They aren’t going to eat you, Delia. They just want a one-time ********] She grimaced and turned slightly glancing at her best friend. “We’re not here for them anyway, so they can screw their hands tonight.” Delilah nudged her hip gently almost gesturing to the dance floor. Paige had ditched them, wandering off like a cat, probably looking for her next game. By this point in time, much as she cared for the girl, she didn’t bother to keep tabs with her. This was what they were here for—dancing, not caring about anything either way, fun. Delilah wasn’t the only one that needed that.

She gave a small nod and grabbed her by the hand—leading her so she wouldn’t run away and she wouldn’t get lost amidst the numerous people. She let the music wash over her, drown out her expression, until she was focusing on the notes themselves, how they worked together with the lyrics and the electronic sounds in the background. Subconsciously, she knew she was moving along to it, she recognized that—to her almost astonishment—Delilah had lost a piece of herself as well. But Nika wasn’t as great a dancer as she was a musician—she didn’t care. On the dancefloor, nothing mattered—not the idiot in the corner that would try to buy her a drink later or the boy watching her hips move. She was lost and there was nothing that could br—wait. Was that?

She turned her head as a familiar saunter bled into her vision. Lord God Almighty. Seriously? Seriously? She glanced to Delilah but her friend was gone. She didn’t see a thing. Good. “I’ll be back.” She mouthed as she disappeared into the crowd after a shadow she could have sworn they’d left behind. What in the name of everything was he doing here of all places? Was he stalking her? Because he was going to quit that s**t out real quick if she had anything to say about it. She didn’t drag Delilah here only to have her idiot of an ex draw her back in with that smile of his. It was when he opened his mouth that you realized he was nothing more than a backwashed loser. Handsome as he was. It took every fiber in her not to ball up her fist and ram it into the back of his head. She forced her hand to settle on her hip instead. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here, you two bit b***h? Give me one good reason I shouldn’t drop kick you right here and now. You’ve got twenty seconds.”

ooc: okay this post looks so much better. <3

[words for glory]

GIVE ◞ME TO THE R↺AD: UPON THE *HEART
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

( I HAD SOLD )xxx( I HAD SOLD )xxx( I HAD SOLD )

━━━━━━xxxthere's a devil at your door
━━━━━━xxxthere's a devil& he grows and grows


Well, if he had to glean something from the encounter it was that Hunter had an abnormally charming laugh. It shook most of his entire person causing him to chuckle. The sound of the tide couldn’t compare…and that was truly something considering how often it’d helped him to fall asleep at night. The damp, clammy feel of wet wood where the docks were…he’d often fallen asleep outside, even now he’d take a small trip to the marina back home. The ups and downs were that he knew the local police force very well; though they didn’t take pleasure in finding him out there, “causing a disturbance” to no one in particular; he knew it was only because they were running out of warnings to give him.

The tide crashed behind him; unconsciously he put his hands in his pockets as the water crashed around them. “How’s your foot?” He commented absently. Where are your manners? His sister chimed in his ear suddenly. He’d forgotten them a long time ago really, saving them for people worth the effort. Because really it was too much effort to extend it to a crowd—the class of people he often found himself in. It was never a “single” person but always a “group”, unless it was a date. But…those tended to bore him anyway; most women being shallower than the tide pool Hunter was sitting in.

He watched idly as Hunter made himself comfortable. Wasn’t he cold? It was a bit chilly; surely the water was colder, wasn’t it? But Hunter didn’t seem to notice it at all as he stretched out. He raised a brow slightly. “Yeah, I could see that.” The townies resented them at best, despite their efforts to “help” the town from sinking in on itself. But if the townspeople were concerned about the water and the red gunk at all…then they didn’t show it when he was around. Though he supposed that had to be all bravado anyway. Surely, they weren’t stupid enough to realize it was a good thing.

“If you’re not with them, then who are you with?” That statement was curious in itself and Alaric picked up on it immediately. From what he’d seen so far of the town, the place was a tight-knit community. There wasn’t room for a “third” class. Only those who were “in” and those who were “out”. Was Hunter also not from around here? “You’re pretty confident if you’re swimming around in infested waters without consent.” Hunter merely laughed again.

No one else, hm? Then why are you here? More and more mysteries were approaching and he didn’t have enough answers. The gunk itself was one thing but Hunter had to be some sort of “rebel” within the community. It was the only conclusion he could come up with…he couldn’t be an outsider; he seemed to know a lot about the community. He seemed familiar with them and that was a curious state.

He shrugged, partially playing along as he tried to reason his way through the pieces. “They’re community folk. I don’t think it excuses them but it’s understandable. But if they want their town to continue surviving, they won’t get far by shutting us out. If the fungi continue unchecked, there won’t be any fish left in these waters and then where will your town be?” The question itself was almost rhetorical, if anything, almost a ploy. To see what Hunter would say to it. But there was some part that bothered him about Hunter’s speech. Superstition. “Superstition? What sort of ‘superstition’?”

He shrugged again, averting his gaze for the moment to the water. Dedicated their lives to getting rid of us, hm? I’d love to see them try to get rid of me. “I know they won’t help me; I’ve figured that part out already. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t need too much of their help anyway. Eventually, as long as we continue running tests, one of them will figure out how to cure it.” It wouldn’t be him, he was sure of that, he wasn’t concerned with curing it, he was concerned with finding the source and purging it. The fungi were caused by something, some event and he intended to focus all his attention on that. And if he couldn’t get the local’s help, there was always Google…

He turned back to Hunter. color=#084a62“Then maybe you’ll help me? You don’t seem to care that you’re talking to me.” If Hunter knew enough of the local layout he could run some basic tests of his own… and figure out the likely cause. A bloom? But the strain of fungi wasn’t something they were able to recognize… too bad it was probably impossible to find a subject zero. His best bet was to search as many places as he could and see where the damage was mostly taking effect.

[words for glory]

The pen balanced delicately across his fingers—as he was tempted to mark through nearly this entire document. “Someone has the need for an editor or a tutor.” He murmured not quite annoyed and not quite not but some strange balance in between. But that was simply how the Leviathan was. Not quite this, not quite that—never the expectation, really. If it was there wouldn’t be any need for him to exist—he’d decided some eon ago.

The door creaked open—unsurprising really, the understudy of his position ran throughout her day like clockwork. He’d come to expect such a boring creature about this time every day; he didn’t bother to look up anymore, though he imagined she entered the room—as quietly as something like her could so as to not break the silence of the room, that the hum of a fish tank filter only emphasized—then shivered at the abrupt temperature change that he kept himself wrapped in. The dial read 39 degrees, no lower, no higher. It was a special customization he’d had added into the room, among many really, since he had no desire to be above 39 degrees at any moment in time, the by-product of certain environmental features of his “kingdom” below. Of course, the damnable heat of Las Vegas threatened to match that. It was a simple fact that he tried not to be outside as much as possible.

He underlined another section carefully with his pen as she made her way forward. “It’s certainly cold in here, sir.”

“I haven’t noticed.” He struck another line through the document. “Perhaps you would consider readjusting the hem of your skirt a few inches.” He imagined her face contrasted her hair at that moment but he didn’t look. The conversation was the same was it was nearly every time she entered his office.

“Ah, I will take the suggestion under advisement, sir.”

“You won’t. You’ll forget all about it the moment you leave my office as you do every day.”

“I…uh…”

This conversation was vastly becoming even less interesting than an Ambrose Phillips poem. “What did you need, Ms. Sinclaire.” He remarked, finally glancing up at her having finished looking over the document. He set it at the opposite end of his desk.

“Ah, uh…these.” She placed a few folders together on his desk, taking the finished document in return. “The Director was concerned about the marketing strategies for the new software as well as the new advertisement. He’s requesting that a meeting be set up with the company to discuss some changes.” He snorted. The director was one of the most fickle, “wishy-washy”, spineless creatures, he’d ever seen. Considering the little catshark hiding in the aquarium to his right had no bones for a spine at all—well, that was just a marvelous achievement, wasn’t it? The director of the company had changed the marketing tactic three times in the past week and the product was to be launched in three days. He wondered why he bothered to pretend to human like this at all and cater towards a fragile human like that.

“It will be set up for tomorrow. Anything else?”

“Ah, those documents need your approval and the conference dates have been approved; the station just requires your confirmation now.” She glanced over the document she had taken from him. “I see it didn’t meet your standards, sir. I’ll have a new draft drawn up for tomorrow.”

“Please do.” She nodded and left again. He leaned back slightly in his chair, now left with the hum from the aquarium-wall again. It was demeaning for them all to work with humans like this. But yet how easy they were to manipulate. A few words and the director would go with whatever design he wanted him to. And then to change his mind the next day.

Envy wants the things it cannot have.

He picked up one of the folders, shifting a small bottle no larger than an ink bottle as he did so. This ‘human’ thing never ended, did it?


***


It was almost amazing at how easily he could complete nearly anything in only a few hours. By now it was nearing 8:30, the sky was practically dark, lit up by the restless city below and he was the only here at such a time. It wasn’t quite dedication as it was an avoidance of the abominable heat outside. There was nothing worse than dry heat in his opinion. He set the folder aside, taking up the small bottle and taking a drink from it. There was a shift—like the coils of a snake—in his gut, a sick feeling that he was accustomed to each and every time he immunized himself from a new poison. And then there was nothing. The bottle was empty and the feeling vanished as quickly as it had come.

Then he finally moved after completing the meaningless tasks for his ‘superior’ who was really inferior in more ways than one, likely. He shut the office door, locked it, and proceeded down the numerous elevator floors; the benefit of leaving so late at night was that there less stops on the way down to the parking garage.

What was he doing in this city? What were any of them? A city like this needs no aid in descending. He remembered thinking when he’d arrived in Las Vegas on ‘assignment’ it was called. But when the devil called, sins jumped—it was how that world worked. And they’d done as asked and promised—wormed their way into human lives like snakes. But now they were nothing but idle it seemed. Sure, he had this company sold from the inside out but that hardly seemed necessary in a grand scheme of things—or terribly difficult for a puppeteer like himself. Because that was what he was. A snake. The ice-cold snake of envy.

The elevator dinged at the arrival of the lowest floor in the company and he stepped off, slightly adjusting his tie, working it down as the heat left pinpricks on his skin and he made his way towards his car. The only intention he had after this was finishing out the evening with a novel, perhaps Milton, again, he was so terribly amusing, and drink, perhaps.