paandaru
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Post: 41221989_181 created on Sat Nov 07, 2009 7:16 amPosted: Sat Nov 07, 2009 7:16 am
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 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ Ｅｄｉｌａｎｅ Ａｄｅｌｉｎｅ Ｍｅｌｌｖｉｌｌｅ ✖ s т α т υ s ✖
➽ Professional Singer (sings at night) ➽ Stage Name: Hana Le ➽ Undercover spy (her work by day) ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ "Ah ~ ! Finally a day off. Who would have known?" sighed a long haired woman as she stepped off of the car. Not wanting to draw attention, the singer came in one of the most normal cars possible. It wasn't a cheap or expensive kind of brand. It wasn't a limo either. Just a small Camry. Inside, the chauffeur, did his best not to look as proper as possible. It was just like many years ago when she first arrived to the school. This time, however, she was alone. There was no motherly figure with her. Only the old man in the front driving the car that carried them and her small amounts of luggage along with her. The luggage, unlike her hair, was smaller than last time. She didn't expect to stay long. During school, she had been a sort of wall flower that tried to stick to the rules as much as possible. She had troubles with her fake limbs that still needed improving and kept her from making any friends. Only a couple of guys were "close" enough for her to call them acquaintances. Besides them, everyone was no one else. Why she was alone during her final years of school was simple: she was a cyborg. A cross between machine and human. No one wanted to be friends with that right? She had tried to keep it a secret, but like all other secrets it was out. Her "race" became useful as she looked for a job. How she got her current "private" job was a secret. Being an experiment helped her a lot in the science department. When her father finally retired, she stopped being his experimental toy and just his daughter. He had attempted at making a male out of scraps since it was hard to try and make another her without a wounded human being. His attempt failed and the boy-to-be was destroyed. The wires were wrong. It could move, it could talk, but it still wasn't the same. Computer couldn't replace humans. The details of this story would be saved for another day. Over the years, through her double jobs, and double lives, the cyborg began to grow more...character. She became more outgoing and talkative. She wasn't as cold as before. Her eyes were more open and less critical about mistakes. Instead of a robot, she began to act more like a normal human being; although everyone in her unit knew about her "race". That was the main reason why she was recruited. Adel was an information gatherer. With new features that allowed her to change the color aspects of her appearance, (as in her hair color and eye color), she was able to blend in better despite the fact that her strangely natrual hair color was teal. As she got older, her hair seemed to turn darker and a bit closer to black, but it still had that blue green tint to it. While walking on the school grounds with small suitcase in hand, Adel began to wonder if anyone would recognize her. Would they match the familiar hair color with the shortness of length? Her eyes looked down slightly as a small smile creased on her face. Probably not. Adel looked around to find the grounds empty. Where were they supposed to go? She began to feel uncomfortable standing around by herself. Although she felt capable of defending herself, she had gotten used to being with at least one other person most of the time when she wasn't at home. Ah...this is a bit awkward. she thought while rubbing the back of her head. Long strands of teal hair flowed in the wind as she walked up the grounds. A few more people were entering the school building from here and there. Most drove themselves to the reunion and only a few, like here, were brought to the school. Suitcase in hand, Adel walked up to the door. She began to feel a shy timidness as she neared the doors. With a sigh, the cyborg reached over and opened the door. There had to be a map somewhere. Homesickness from a momentary f l a s h b a c k, Is there something in these hands? An u n e n d i n g refrain, Mumbling a recitation password, Elegy, musical performance is a pathos-pod, What is r e f l e c t e d in these eyes? The fake u t o p i a was s h a k e n |
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