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Worth joining?

Yuss :D 0.3 30.0% [ 3 ]
Nah, sorry . . . 0 0.0% [ 0 ]
I kill people. 0.4 40.0% [ 4 ]
*plays banjo* 0.3 30.0% [ 3 ]
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Anxious Autobiographer

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But they can't make you leave. They can't.
You won't let them.




~ ~ ~
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Welcome to The Dream Shop. Buy any kind of dream you like to keep you satisfactorily occupied from the moment you close your eyes until, well, until you open them again, of course!
Nevermind that these are blackmarket dealings and stealing dreams is a dangerous process-- you filthy rich insomniacs deserve better!

~ ~ ~


That's right. In the not-so-distant future, dreams have become a commodity. An illicit commodity, but a commodity nonetheless. There are those who are experts at extracting them from people's heads while they sleep, and there are those who are specially trained to stop them.

~ ~ ~


A little child looks up at her window as it glints in the setting sun's glare. The beads and feathers on her dreamcatcher swirl in a light breeze, benevolent but hypnotic, making her sleepy. She feels at ease laying her yawning head on the pillow, for she knows that the protective web dangling above her will be her guard in the night, watching for evil that may attempt to sidle its way into her mind.

~ ~ ~


The Envoys have been trained since a young age to recognize a thief of the mind, as well as how to strategize against them, follow them into dreams, and how to remove them from the dreamer's mind without causing any . . . collateral damage.

→ The Defining Trait of All Thieves is their Pattern of Movement. Slight Felinity in Mobility, Rapid Eye Twitching, and Abnormal Mannerisms of Posture and Gesticulation Combined with A Suspicious Aura.

Yes, that's right, Envoys have been trained to access a part of the human brain that is highly intuitive and recognizes the physical presence of auras.

Also, all Envoys (and Thieves) can use telepathy with eachother. Normal humans can only use it in dreams.

❛❜❝❞【】〖〗►◄﹃﹄『』◢ ◣◥ ◤


ENTER: The Booke family. They are unassuming, unobtrusive, unsuspecting-- but there is one unique thing about them. Their dreams. The underground network of Thieves has caught wind of just how juicily peculiar, exciting, jubilant, explosive and in general just completely off-the-handle-AWESOME this family's dreams always are. It's the jackpot. It's a dream come true, if you'll pardon the pun. (Even though it's not really a pun . . . BUT WHATEVER. ANYWAY.) Suddenly, every good Thief who cares about his or her reputation is plotting to infiltrate the minds of this family in any way they can. The only problem is, the Envoys have also found out about the Bookes, and are keeping a suffocatingly close watch on this suburban clan of super-dreamers.

You know what this means.

ஜLet the games begin.ஜ

Anxious Autobiographer

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*Important: I just realized that this may sound a lot like Inception. Please note that I in no way meant to rip off Christopher Nolan's movie, and that in no way was thinking of it when I thought this up. I made the connection literally right after I'd fleshed out the idea. Lol.

LAWS OF ZE LAND:


☼ I am God. KNEEL BEFORE ME IN FEAR. 3nodding

☼ The Gaia ToS is also God.

☼ PM Profiles to me with the title "Not on my watch" for Envoys, "What a catch" for Thieves, and "La Dee Da Dee Da" for unsuspecting members of the Booke family.

☼ Violence is necessary. Spill entrails at will. However: Do not kill, only maim and seriously injure, unless otherwise agreed upon with the object of your murderousness.

☼ LITERACY IS A MUST, though no Lord of the Rings rewrites, please. I don't want to log on to a novella. No oneliners, twoliners, threeliners, fourliners or fiveliners or I will feed you to my troll.

☼ FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS SANE, NO MARY SUES, CONTROLLING OTHERS' CHARACTERS, OR SPEAKING IN FIRST PERSON. ALSO, THOUGHTS ARE INDICATED WITH ITALICS, PLEASE.

☼ Plot twists are 100% welcome, though major ones should be brought to me, first.

☼ Romance is fine, but PG-13 please, and I don't want to see any love at first sight business. It's annoying as f*ck.

☼ Swearing, as you can tell, is, though not the classiest of habits, MOTHERF*CKING AWESOME AND USEFUL AS SH!T, but try to asterisk it so we don't get banned.

☼ GET OUT THERE ARND HAVE SOME FUN, YA LITTLE BASTARDS! wink




Profile Skeleton:


Puppetmaster: (username)
Name:
Age: (for Envoys, not below 24 unless you have a really good reason)
Height:
Gender:
Special Skills: (may be metaphysical if you're not in the Booke Family)
Personality: (at least five sentences. The more detailed and interesting, the more likely I am to accept you.)
Habits: (little quirks that make you, you)
Bio: (same requirements as personality. For Thieves and Envoys, may contain why you do what you do)
Appearance: (description OR a REAL photograph, no anime please)
What you want most: (something that will ultimately motivate you to do everything you do)
Other: (anything you feel I've missed.)


REMEMBER: Pm these to me and I will post them in the accepted profiles section that is to follow. Thank you!

Anxious Autobiographer

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▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄ Accepted Profiles▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄




⊚ Σnvoys ⊛
`•.•●•۰• ••.•´

Puppetmaster: SuccubusMusic
Name: Annabella "Ice Dog" Lauren Smithson
Age: 18
Height: 5" 8'
Gender: Female
Special Skills: Hydrokinesis, Telepathy, and mild Empathy.
Personality: Anabella is serious, disciplined, and rarely jokes. She can be sarcastic if pushed far enough, and she has a bit of a short fuse. She is mostly quiet and when she is around her superiors she is obedient and respectful. She has a strong sense of "black and white" justice and that drives everything she does. She is cautious and suspicious, almost paranoid. She is obsessively neat, and rather cold to those who she views as undesirable. She listens and obeys almost always. Her personality has earned her the nickname "Ice Dog", which also plays on her special abilities. She only cares about what people above her think about her.
Habits: Obsessively clean and organized, and it drives everyone around her crazy. She also has to eat her food in alphabetical order and it can not touch. Her clothes have to be sorted in order of color.
Bio: Her mother tossed her in a dumpster when she was less than 2 months old. No one knows who she was or why she decided to toss the child, but she was found there by an envoy couple. They raised her and declared her a prodigy. She endured rigorous training from as soon as she could walk. She was trained in combat as well as metaphysical arts. She join the envoys young, driven by her own sense of justice and wish to make her adoptive parents proud.
Appearance: She is lean, with muscle, and built a lot like a runner. She has mismatched eyes, Her right one is blue and the other is a brownish-red. She has a few scars on her body from years of hard training and her skin is tanned from being out in the sun. She has soft black hair that reaches to a little past her waist that she usually ties back to keep out of her way.
What you want most: To make my adoptive parent's proud.
Other: She is a black-belt in most forms of martial arts and she is weapon trained, though she prefers knives to anything.

⊚ ʈhieves ⊚
`•.•●•۰• ••.•´


Puppetmaster: White Water Lilly

Name: Katerina Aves
Age: 14 (almost 15)
Height: 5'3"
Gender: Female

Special Skills: Telekinesis - can move objects with her mind | Can see/read Auras

Personality: Normally a peaceful and sincere girl, Katerina was forced to join into the darker side of business when her mother fell ill. Her father having already walked out on the two of them, Katerina has no one to depend on other than herself. The most difficult about entering the black market was learning to create a pokerface for herself and to never reveal her true intentions to anyone. At first it was difficult, but after several stabs on the back, Katerina knows better than to trust/open up to anyone. Unless alone with her mother in the securities of their one room, run down apartment, Katerina will have a blank look to her face. She's unwilling to show useless emotions and will speak only in a curt tone of voice. She's learned that to get infomation in this kind of business, one had to be sly and have the "goods".

Habits: Since young, Katerina has had this odd habit of needing to twirl her hair in order to focus. When nervous, Katerina would begin fingering her nails. Most would assume she was trying to just get the dirt out but even when clean, she still does it when stressed.

Bio: Katerina grew up in the slums. Her and her mother being forced to move there after Katerina's father ran out on them. Left with a huge debt, Katerina's mother had no choice but to sale the house and move to the sub-urbs. Here she raised Katerina for the next 10 years. The two barely got by but thay managed, that is, until Katerina's mother fell ill during the summer of year XXXX. With her mother bedridden, 13 year old Katerina had no choice but to head out into the back alleyways and learn the ways of survival. Unable to make enough with a regular low paying job, Katerina was forced to join the dark business known as the underground market. With dreams being a high commodity these days, Katerina offered up her own in order to gain the infomation and knowledge required to become a theif of dreams. It was a rough start for the young Katerina and more than once she had been caught and almost sent to prison. Lucky for her, the man she had sold her dream too, had connections and piting the girl, offers shady help every now and then in return for a high quality dream from Katerina. A year later, Katerina has now mastered the way of dream theivery and catching wind of the rumored 'Booke family dreams'. Katerina knew that if she could just capture one, she'll finally have enough to save her mother. Determined, Katerina will do anything in her power to attain one such dream.

Appearance: Petite and slender, Katerina is just making the average height for girls her age, most of which are between 5'3" and 5'5". Long, smooth, silky light black hair cascades down to her hips as her mother had always favored her with long hair. Since bedridden (her mother), Katerina has stopped cutting her hair and left it to grow out - the day her mother gets better will be the day she'll cut her hair back to its usual shoulderlength. A dark indigo headband, left to her by her father, is the only thing Katerina will ever wear on her head making it more easy for others to distinguish her. Her eyes are a pale purple and she dresses in a simple sleeveless purple turtle neck dress and black stockings with purple diamonds along the sides. On her arms are two black arm warmers that reach from her mid arm down to her knuckles. [Outfit inspiration] For shoes, Katerina sticks to simple black, ankle length boots.

What you want most: For her mother to be healthy again (more in bio).

Other: For her own protection, Katerina keeps a small dagger hidden within her dress and tied to her right thigh.

~~~~

Puppetmaster: SuccubusMusic
Name: Zonirae "Flamehead" Streetwalker
Age: 18
Height: 5' 8"
Gender: Female
Special Skills: Pyrokinesis, Empathy, and slight Telepathy.
Personality: Zonirae is cunning and manipulative. She is moody and often destructive. She has a very dark sense of humor and is beyond sarcastic. She has complete disrespect for everyone, no matter if they could beat her to a pulp, and hates obeying. She is suspicious and almost paranoid and will go to any length to acquire power. She is easily bored and loves to fight and cause problems for fun. She is a bit of a thrill seeker. She doesn't really have a big mouth, but she doesn't keep quiet either. She has a very short fuse, one comment can engulf you in flames. She bullies those she can and even sometimes those she can't. She is often lazy when it comes to do things she doesn't want to do, which includes cleaning. Her personality earned her the nickname, and streetname, of "Flamehead" which she is very proud of.
Habits: She loves the smell of smoke, it seems to be the only thing that calms her down when she is really angry. She also has to have a candle with her at all times, even if it isn't lit. She is always smoking, and if she runs out of cigarettes she tends to set everything within reach on fire.
Bio: Zonirae was found in a dumpster by the leader of a gang called the Streetwalkers, and he took her in. She chose the gangs name to be her last name. When she was 11, she got so angry at the gang for refusing to give her something she wanted, she set the whole building on fire, killing everyone. She then went off on her own, developing her skills with the hard street life. She found the thieves when she tried to steal from a member and joined because she thought it would be fun. If it wasn't for her value, they probably would have killed her off long ago.
Appearance: She is muscular but pretty lean. She has mismatched eyes, Her right one is brownish-red and the other is blue. She has a large scar on her back and many more on her body. She has tribal tattoos on her right hip and under her left ribcage that look like black fire that she tends to show off by wearing short shirts and shorts. She has boyish cut black hair that is always messy.
What you want most: To survive.
Other: She is very good with a knife and extremely agile, very catlike.



~~~~


⊚ βookes ⊚
`•.•●•۰• ••.•´


Puppetmaster: TheArtfulJamie
Name: Colin Booke
Age: 39
Height: 5’9”
Gender: MAN.
Special Skills: Storytelling; building random a** awesome stuff from practically nothing; making sandwiches
Personality: A shy man with everyone but his family, Colin cuts no particularly flamboyant figure: Quiet and very polite, he has one of those unassumingly helpful, pleasant-natured dispositions that make it very easy for people to like him without knowing much about him at all. The one thing that people may find off-putting about him is that he is very watchful and intuitive, and tends to scrutinize more than is normal. He is however, sincere but not harsh, and good-humored but not rambunctious. Colin tries hard to find the upsides to everyone’s personality and to consider situations from everyone’s perspective, even if they are being extremely unlikable and frustrating. It’s very hard to get on his extroverted side; he only really shows it around his family. If you do, you’ll see not a different person, but a shockingly more involved, mischievous side that has lots of wonder for the world around him and that looks hard for magic and the unexpected in even the most mundane of things.
-
Habits: Easily made nervous or embarrassed, he tends to rub or hold the back of his neck while putting the other hand in his pocket. When stressed or exasperated he takes off his glasses and fiddles with them—he’s broken many a pair that way—and pinches the bridge of his nose.
-
Bio: As a kid, Colin could not stay away from his notebooks, his pens and the forest behind his house. Perpetually immersed in his own imaginary world that would, inspired by the strange setting around him, unfold on the lined paper, he knew from the beginning that he wanted to be a writer. His father was not happy about this, and since Colin’s mother was not alive, there was no one to side with the boy as his father made him take hard physical jobs in the family construction firm—things more fitting for a man than painting foolish pictures with words. Luckily, Colin was quite adept with his hands, but he preferred to experiment in making things to fit his fancies, such as tree forts and little elven villages in the woods and bridges and boats to use to cross the river. As he got older, he inevitably became more independent and asserted his interests to his father, who relented and let him join a book club and go to lit workshops.

Colin moved out of the state at eighteen to go to college to study writing further, becoming more interested in the theatre and the process of constructing a play. A combination of incorrigibly pretentious and frustrating professors, class mates and colleagues led to Colin’s dropping out halfway through his scholarship-funded stay, and while working with a tiny theatre on an original production met the love of his life, actress and director Marie Mochrie. They dated for a year before marrying, and it was the best decision of his life. Another year later they had identical twin boys, and five years later a little girl—but one day, it all went out the window. When his daughter was ten and his sons were fifteen, his wife disappeared. With no warning. She went to bed with him at night, and when he woke up, she was gone. He had never been more absolutely inconsolably frantic in his life that day, that week, that month, until it all drained out of him. When he had met Marie, he had finally been able to come out of his shell to the point where he could almost make close friends, and after she was gone, all the old insecurities came roaring back. At this point, he can barely keep his family intact, and the only time he is really happy is when he’s back in his dreams, with his wife and his strange fantastical worlds reminiscent of the stories he wrote as a child.
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Appearance: A bit shorter than average height and surprisingly lean in build for a middle-aged guy, Colin has always given the impression of youth. As a teenager he was constantly mistaken to be in grade school, etc. Short, unkemptly curly hair with some telling dabbles of gray falls over an angular, usually mild-but-alert face with wide brown eyes framed by rectangular glasses. His broad shoulders and an open, not-too-relaxed-but-not-slouched posture give off a fatherly vibe that adds to the modest charm.
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What you want most: For his family to be complete, and happy.
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Other: Colin owns a woodworking shop that he runs beneath their apartment, and he also writes short stories for children’s magazines and websites. On a personal note, he wears the engagement ring he gave his wife, Marie, on a chain around his neck. It makes him feel cheesy, but at the same time he wouldn’t feel right without knowing where it was. It’s the one thing he can control, not knowing where Marie herself is.

~~~
Puppetmaster: Mustangs are tuff
Name: Sydney (Syd/Owl) Booke
Age: 12
Height: 4'11''
Gender: female
Special Skills: She's a pretty good drawer and has an excellent imagination
Personality: Sydney's a very mild, soft-spoken girl who tends to keep to herself. She's pretty dark and can be a little rough. She usually keeps her emotions to herself and her dreams and is often quite detached. Her mind often wonders, especially when she's bored like in class or church or something and when that happens she usually draws or daydreams. She has a strange fascination with morbid things and stuff that usually scares people like blood, scary movies, and bugs... oh, and guns. She has a strange thing about guns that no one can quite understand, nor do they try to. She collects them. She likes to freak people out and scare them, and therefore doesn't have many friends. People in school label her as a freak and not a lot of people like talking to her. But that's okay, because she doesn't like talking to them either. Though she is quite mature for her age, even if she doesn't appear it, and most of the few friends she has are teenagers. Though they're not real friends, just emo and scene kids who think she's adorably morbid and are fascinated by her.
Habits: When she talks, which is normally only at home, she has a slight lisp that contradicts her dark, tough disposition, yet compliments her young, childish appearance. Also when she's concentrating, like when drawing (or aiming a gun...) she either sticks her tongue out of the side of her mouth or bites the side of her lower lip.
Bio: Though Sydney isn't a very normal girl, she's lived a pretty normal twelve years of life. She has a very close bond with her father, which is about the only close bond she's ever had with anyone. Although, her mother did go missing. It was strange. She seemed to disappear one night into thin air. They never found her and don't seem to be going anywhere with the case. Sydney never talked about her disappearance with anyone, not even her family, though personally she's given up on finding her.
Appearance: Syd's a short girl. her hair is long and dark and it is almost always pulled up in some way; ponytail, bun, pigtails, anything. But it is rarely down. She's quite small and has big, dark eyes, like an owl. That's where she got her nickname, "Owl". As for attire, she dresses simply. T-shirts, sweatshirts, jeans, shorts, simple stuff. When she's feeling lazy she wears her converse. When she's trying to look bad-a** she wears her combat boots.User Image
What you want most: an actual friend.
Other: She has a simple little stuffed elephant that she can't sleep without. If it ever went missing, she would literally stay awake until it is found and brought back to her. It was given to her by her parents when she was just a baby and the whole family knows how much stress she goes through when it goes missing.

~~~
Puppetmaster: Mustangs are tuff
Name: Mac and Ari Booke. (Or Mac and Cheese but people usually only call them that when referring to both of them...)
Ages: 17
Heights: 5'11''
Genders: male
Special Skills: They're both pretty musically talented. Ari plays guitar and Mac drums. Also, they're both pretty good writers, but no one really knows that except their English teacher. Also they like cooking, but a lot of the time they end up setting whatever they're cooking on fire, simply for the fun of setting s**t on fire.
Personalities: Though obviously they are two different people, a lot of people seem to see them as one. One funny, mischievous guy who likes music and chicks. That's what most people see, since they don't like to take the time to get to know people. Since they are identical twins, people have a hard time telling them apart. But for the people who do know them, it's usually quite obvious who's who. Mac is a little more outgoing than Ari. He'd be the one to start a conversation with someone and Ari usually just follows along. He can be a real flirt sometimes and is the type of guy who would party every night if he could. Though, he is a nice guy and loves to mess around. He'll make friends with just about anyone. Ari is more cool and laid back. He's more of a follower, while Mac is more of a leader. He doesn't talk much when he's not with Mac (which is practically never) and is more like his little sister in those kinds of situations; a bit of a loner. He's not so much flirty, but more romantic. Either way, the two are attached at the hip and do practically everything with each other. They never really fight and when they do it never lasts any longer than a half hour. They're fun-loving and playful and like making people laugh.
Habits: Mac's addicted to coffee and Ari's a smoker... of pretty much anything. Seriously, he's smoked just about anything that you are capable of smoking... even catnip! Pretty much whatever he can get his hands on. That's the biggest difference people can tell between the two. Ari usually has a cigarette or a joint or something in his mouth but Mac doesn't. Also, they are always talking at the same time and finishing each other's sentences.
Bios: Their whole life, the twins have always had a lot of friends. I mean, who wouldn't want to be friends with identical twins? They never had to worry about not having someone to talk to because, not only did they have each other, but someone was always wanting to hang out with them. Yeah, they had it good. Friends, girls, parties, and not a bad home life either. That is, until their mom went missing one day. It was creepy and mysterious, how it happened. She simply vanished. She was there when she went to bed and in the morning she was gone. The case has yet to be solved but the boys never gave up hope. They loved their mom and can't seem to let her go. They're both convinced she's still out there somewhere and one day they are going to find her.
After their mother went missing, the two completely shut down. They didn't talk to anyone for a week. They stuck to themselves and, truthfully, no one even really tried to talk to them. Everyone knew what happened. No one wanted to make things worse by saying something bad to them. And the hurt and anxiousness showed on their faces. Slowly they, of course, began to open up to people again and their friends became more comfortable around them again but it took a good few months. Although, there was a clear change after she was declared missing. They withdrew from the family a lot. They partied more, stayed out later, and pretty much just did everything in their capability to piss their dad off. To this day, they still spend as little time at home as possible. They went from being okay kids who really didn't get themselves in serious trouble, to worse then your average angst-ridden teen who couldn't seem to stay out of trouble.
Appearances:
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What you want most: For their mom to come home.
Other:

Anxious Autobiographer

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ѣʊɱρЄя ʂϮϊʗқЄя blaugh

Sometimes, our dreams are very lovely.

~ ~ ~

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Anxious Autobiographer

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ѣʊɱρЄя ʂϮϊʗқЄя gonk


But sometimes, they're not.

~ ~ ~

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Anxious Autobiographer

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ѣʊɱρЄя ʂϮϊʗқЄя neutral

And sometimes . . . well, sometimes it's a bit difficult to tell what they are.


~ ~ ~


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▄▀▄▀▄ Annabella "Ice Dog" ▄▀▄▀▄



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Anabella woke and got out of bed. Immediately, she made up her bed with the skill that spoke of practice. She turned and scowered the room for even the tiniest dust particles. Once she was satisfied it was clean, she turned to her closet, which was carefully organized. She dressed quickly and folded her pajamas before leaving the room and locking all four locks behind her. She walked off to where she needed to be that morning.

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▀▄▀▄▀ Zonirae "Flamehead" ▀▄▀▄▀



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Zonirae woke up and yawned. She sat up and rubbed her head before carefully stepping down to the junk-covered floor. She threw on a shirt and some shorts that were clean and tossed her pajamas to the dirty clothes pile that almost touched her ceiling. She grabbed two cigarette packs from her dresser and unwrapped one. She pulled one out and put it in her mouth. She formed a flame on her fingertip and lit her cigarette with that. She took a deep drag before leaving the room and locking all three locks she had on her door as well as re-setting the traps. She walked off, not going anywhere in particular.

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Anxious Autobiographer

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cσℓιη вσσкє, ∂α∂

Just about every time he made the perfunctory glance around his apartment after unlocking the door and stepping inside, Mr Colin Booke felt a little reminder needle wheedle its unbidden way back into his stomach, all the way through his heart and up into his throat. There it would lie as he removed his dusty coat, broadening and thickening into some congealed mass of regret and loss. The flat was simply nothing, nothing but space, not a home without his beautiful Marie.

But dwelling would get him nowhere, even if was impossible to forget her because every time he came back into the house, the first thing he saw was that painting on the wall, the painting of a lost little girl watching as her cluster of balloons escaped, unravelling, into the sky. The painting had hung on the set of the play during the production of which Colin had met his future wife, and Marie had loved the painting so much that she had asked the set designer, a talented man who had painted the picture expressly for that production, if she could have it.

Of course, no one could say no to Marie--thus, here the painting hung.

Colin wanted to move it, to put it in a box, something to keep it from tormenting him, but every time he worked himself up to go and move it, he lost his nerve. It was as immovable as the ever-present presence of Marie, and Colin was kidding himself if he thought he could forget about her even if he was brave enough to take the painting down. Regardless, he would be a hypocrite moving the painting with his reason for doing so being to forget when he himself carried Marie's engagement ring with him to remember.

It was all a fantastic tangled pile of relentless ironies that loved to shove themselves down his throat and n** at his intestines.

Lovely metaphor, no?

Anyhow, he removed his coat, and his boots, and went to the kitchen to start dinner. It was still a bit early for that, but he wanted to do something special for once. Openining the fridge with a weary sigh, Colin wondered idly where his twin sons were. They liked cooking, and were pretty decent at it, though if they were ever to help he had to keep a very close watch on them, lest they decide that using a stove the way it's supposed to be used was too boring and give in to their pyromaniacal tendencies.

~It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.~

Shirtless Smoker

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It had been a nice day, clear with blue skies. Apparently the clouds were busy somewhere else today because the sun had shown down bright on the little city that the Booke family resided in. Most people would take pretty little days like this for granted and Sydney was no different. She hadn't thought twice about the weather. The only times she really ever did was when it was doing something decently interesting, like raining or when there was a tornado warning or something. But today was, clearly, not one of those days. She found it boring and paid absolutely no attention to it.
The walk home from school was no different then it normally was. The twins, Mac and Cheese, picked her up from her middle school at 2:30 and they walked home together. The boys were with two cute girls, a brunette and a girl with bright red hair, and they were being their typical, flirty boisterous selves. Mac talked a lot. Ari smoked the whole time. The girls giggled and were clearly quite into the two boys. But Sydney was silent. She stared down at her feet, barely listening to the teenagers. Her mind wandered off to a world created by her vivid little imagination. It was obvious she was barely there consciously. Her hands were shoved in the pockets of her over-sized sweatshirt and her eyes never once wandered from the ground in front of her. It wasn't until they reached the front door of their apartment did she finally come back to reality. She didn't even realize the girls had left until now. She quickly headed upstairs and poked her head in the kitchen to say a quick hi to her father before heading into her bedroom. She threw her bag on the floor, grabbed her sketchbook from her nightstand and her pencil from behind her ear, and flopped herself down on her bed to start sketching all she had thought up on her walk home.
Ari put out his cigarette before heading into the apartment, following close behind Mac. They both immediately smelled food as they walked through the door and headed straight to the kitchen. Dad must be cooking tonight. They walked over to the kitchen and stood in the doorway, Ari standing more behind Mac then next to him. "Need any help?" they asked simultaneously, their voices both calmer and quieter then they had been with the girls. Things at home were very different now that Mom was gone. Being in the apartment simply reminded them of everything and made sad. They acted completely differently at home now. Instead of being their typical, goofy, fun-loving selves, they were quieter and more withdrawn. They spent as little time there as possible.

Anxious Autobiographer

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cσℓιη вσσкє, ∂α∂

Colin's eyes followed his little Owl until she had left the kitchen, and then swept back to the beans and corn he had begun to cook up on the stove. Some semblance of a smile had come to his face with her presence. She reminded him so much of himself when he was her age--and now still, actually-- that it was impossible not to be consistently, bemusedly amused. There were, of course, differences; for instance, he wasn't quite so . . . dark. But that was alright. Some might find her interest unhealthy, and while Colin admitted it wasn't particularly normal, there was certainly nothing psychotic or harmful, self or otherwise, about it. There was nothing wrong with having a different viewpoint on things--and that was not a belief he held merely because she was his daughter. It applied to everyone.

A duet of monotony echoed behind him, drawing him from his reverie. "Need any help?" His boys. He wished they'd perk up. He wish he could perk up himself. It was hard to watch his sons try to distance themselves from him because they didn't want to think about . . . things. Colin was trying, but he was not naturally good at putting cheering people up or putting on a merry show. He felt fake if he tried and useless if he didn't: Damned either way.

So, he'd go for honest.

"Why, your dulcet tones are putting me in a glorious mood," he joked with pleasant sarcasm, turning to the twins. "I sure could use some help, thanks; I'm making burritos but we don't actually have any tortillas. I was thinking, with your insurpassable culinary skills, you could make the best tortillas from here to Mexico." A small chuckle managed to get past Colin's lips as he clapped the two boys on the shoulders. "What do you say? A departure from the usual cold cuts and salad, but what's life without its random adventures, hm?" Clearly, Colin was a tad more comfortable with the whole talking thing if it depended on his family's good mood.

~It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.~

Shirtless Smoker

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The boys glanced at each other and smirked a bit at their father's spontaneous enthusiasm. Well, this was a bit of a change. Not only in the food, but the complete atmosphere of the room seemed to change with their father's cheeriness. Of course, the boys figured, it was all fake, simply to lighten the mood, but it worked. Lately the twins had been used to everything and everyone in this house being so melancholy and drab. No one talked like they used to. Meals together were rare and, when they did happen, short and usually silent. It wasn't abnormal for the boys to show up drunk at night, that is if they showed up at all. This whole family thing was going down the drain and the only one really making an effort, it seemed, was poor old Dad. Sydney was simply indifferent and the twins tried to distance themselves as much as possible. If Mom were still around, this never would have happened.
The two looked back at their father. They were never able to turn down a challenge, especially when put as nicely as their father just had. "Sure," Mac said with a shrug as he headed to the cabinet. "If you can trust us to not blow up the kitchen," Ari said with a smirk as he headed over the counter. He sat up on top of it and kicked off his muddy, old converse. Mac ransacked the cupboards, looking for god knows what, pushing things off the shelves and onto the floor, making his typical mess that usually happens whenever he goes to cook.
Gaia Forums » MISC Forums » Forum & Sticky Archive » Organization/Military Roleplay

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