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 Posted: Mon Jun 09, 2014 3:11 pm
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Posted: Mon Jun 09, 2014 3:14 pm
open || Welcoming the New Trainees
+ [ORP] - Welcoming the New Trainees - Martino is filled with excitement when he attends the orientation to Military School.
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Posted: Thu Jul 17, 2014 7:02 am
open || Gear Tinkering
+ [ORP] - Gear Tinkering - Martino attends a class to learn how to properly fix damaged 3DMG.
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Posted: Tue Jul 29, 2014 10:38 am
solo || Dalliance
Julio reclined lazily; a satisfied grin scrawled on his face. The man was a lush at heart and, considering it was his rest day from tilling fields under a shower of yells and reprimands from the lead. He felt himself slowly drifting into a comatose state from the alcohol still swishing around in his stomach, but he was suddenly pulled forth back to the realm of the living by a rhythmic knock on his door.
"Aghh, qué tal?" the groaned as he stumbled from his spot on the sofa. Worst than bothering the man when he was sleeping was when he was about to enter dreamland. Stomping to the door, he slapped a hand on the knob, but his fingers slid clumsily from it. Grabbing at it again, he twisted it open, and pulled it back when such strength he clocked himself straight on the forehead.
Moaning lightly in pain, he opened his winced eyes at the figure before him, and a sudden smile spread out over his lips. "Ah, Martino!" he suddenly cried in glee.
"Julioooo!" the man replied.
Julio suddenly grabbed the man and pulled him forward in a crushing hug, slapping him heartily on the back as he chuckled in mirth. Martino returned the sentiment, using the strength in both of his arms to withdraw his person from his friend. He was positive his old companion would crush him to death if he stayed in his arms any longer. Julio eyed him up and down in awe when he noticed the man to be in a military uniform.
"Aye, aye, Martino, qué es esto? Did you commit a crime or something to get drafted, amigo?"
Martino scratched the back of his head. "It's sort of a long tale, Julio..." the man replied. "Can I come in?"
The man thinned his lips at Martino's suddenly dour expression. "Ah, sure, sure," he replied as he slid out of the way of the doorway and allowed his only friend passage. Fixing himself on the opposite couch to Julio's, Martino worked out his thoughts into a linear sequence, and then spilled everything of the last few months to him -- about his lack of inspiration, descent into depression, his joining of the military to hopefully rework his muse, and most of all, his separation from Mwanajuma. Julio sat there, stunned -- especially at Martino's last revealing. He spread out his hands before him and drew his mouth to a small O before he clamped it shut.
Then, he spouted, "Wow, I didn't... I didn't think Mama had it in her. She was all over you, amigo. Loved you to bits. But to leave you, ay Dios mio..."
"Yea, y'know? She was my heart, but now... Now..."
Julio watched as the man crumpled in on himself and sobbed into the crook of his arm. His finger twitched and, in compulsion, he jumped to his feet with a jolt and pumped a fist into the air.
"Revolución!" he suddenly shouted, rolling the R thickly with a slur. "Revolución!"
Martino rose his face and quirked a brow at his friend. "Oi, Julio-" he began, trying to question what in the world his drunken friend was saying and doing, but he was cut off by another, "Revolución!"
"What do you mean by "revolución"?" he finally managed to inquire about when Julio quieted and flashed him a gleaming pair of pearly whites.
"Celebrate, my friend!" Julio announced as he began to prance about his home. "Forget Mama! Forget the world! You are now free to pursue as you please! Revolución!"
"Julio... Ah-!"
Julio suddenly grabbed Martino's arms and hauled him to his feet. He swung him around in a dance full of laughter on his end before he hooked an arm about the artist's shoulder.
"You must drink to celebrate, amigo. Come, come, my stores are always wet."
"Ah, no, Julio..." Martino croaked. "I-I couldn't... I have to return to the campgrounds later and returning drunk would- Dio, Julio, are you even listening?"
"Come now, guapooo," Julio slurred as he reached a hand across and twinned a bottle of red wine between his free hand. He slug from it like it was water, then offered the neck to Martino. "Drinkkk."
"Siento, Julio, I couldn't- Mmph!"
The taste of alchohol met his lips, but they weren't from the bottle itself. Julio suddenly threw himself on the artist, his lips to his. The crushing smooch was so sudden Martino froze like a deer at the sound of danger. When it ended, Julio hung his head onto the artist's chest as he, in turn, fixed his tussled locks and crooked glasses.
"I'm s-sorry..." Julio suddenly muttered, biting his bottom lip, "Just, hearing you and Mama split... I-I was overcome with glee... Martino, siempre te he amado... Since our first, when I modeled for you... Since then."
"Julio..."
"Hey, guapo..." Martino's friend suddenly dragged his hand down the artist's chest before stopping at the waistline of his uniform's pants. Slipping two fingers into the hem, he tugged teasingly, and looked up to the teal-haired artist when his hips bucked a smidge. "Let's do it," he muttered, "Tocame, besame, as me el amor... One more time."
Martino hovered above him, as if contemplating this all too good offer, but he pushed Julio away when his friend leaned in on him again. He thinned his lips and shook his head.
"No, Julio, I can't. I'm sorry, I still... I still love her."
Julio cast his eyes off to the side and stepped away from the artist. "I... see," he replied. "Then, why'd you come, Martino? If not for that, then what?"
"I wanted to reconcile in you, as a friend," he admitted.
"As a friend... Is that all you see me as? Even then?"
Martino nodded his head slowly. This blossomed a silence from Julio's end as he bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. Turning from him, he descended to his liquor cabinet, and frowned.
"Go, leave me be," he commanded. "Just... go."
Martino pursed his lips and nodded, though his gesture was not seen. He left and took to the road to head back to the campgrounds.
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