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 Posted: Fri Apr 01, 2011 8:55 pm
Beach House 2
Just like the other beach houses, this home is tucked away in the south-eastern corner of Rose Valley, where the owner can enjoy a gorgeous view of the Ardor Sea.
This home is currently occupied by Periclesius Thraxis.
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Posted: Sun Jun 12, 2011 12:50 pm
⋙xxxxxxxxxxם я ε ɑ ɱ ι и ɢ xxx σ ғ xxx ϩ ɔ я ε ɑ ɱ ι и ɢ⊰⋙xxxxxSomeone xxx k i c k xx ɱε _____________ o u t xxx σ ғ xxx m y xxx ɱ ι и ם⊰⋙xxxxxI xx ʜ ɑ т ε xx these xx t h o u g h t s xx I xx can’t xx ם ε и ʏ⊰⋙xxxxxxxxxxם я ε ɑ ɱ ι и ɢ xxx σ ғ xxx ϩ ɔ я ε ɑ ɱ ι и ɢ⊰⋙xxxxxSomeone xxx k i c k xx ɱε ____________ o u t xxx σ ғ xxx m y xxx ɱ ι и ם⊰⋙xxxxxI xx ʜ ɑ т ε xx these xx t h o u g h t s xx I xx can’t xx ם ε -- и ʏ⊰★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆xxxxxxxxxxxxxx P e r i c l e s i u s xx T í b i xx T h r a x i sxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx❝ Σ'αγαπώ Αρι ❞  Sitting up, a half awake glaze hazing over his eye, Thraxis felt his body ache and twinge with pain. It was a normal for him to feel like this. It was a sign he was getting old. Or, at least, older. Holding onto his hip as he stood from his bed, he stretched his body, feeling his old bones pop and crack. Walking over to the dresser, he looked at himself, his only good eye still a striking black against the white sclera. Still his only good eye. Struggling, he opened his other slightly, the pale haze of white over the entirety. He couldn't see out of it, the heavy scarring and the damage leaving him totally blind.
Turning around, he looked at his back in the mirror, seeing more heavy scarring. Rough, raised, torn flesh from his body healed over into pale brown. Sighing, he turned back around, and pulled out a dresser drawer, becoming used to where his things were in the house. Bottom drawer was Ari's things... Middle drawer was their underwear and top drawer was his... Sighing again, he pushed back those thoughts of Ari, those thoughts of one of the singularly most amazing men in his life, and dressed simply, still in all black, still in mourning.
Moving slowly, he prepared coffee, grabbing his cup, the one with “Big Guy” written on it in Ari's less than perfect scrawl. He was used to the feeling of loss... Fifteen minutes seemed to drag on, staring at his cup, then back up to the cup he had made for Ari, saying in perfect Greek “Little Guy” (“Αντράκι” or Antráki). He felt choked up, his body aching with longing... There was no way to bring him back... He had to come to terms with this... He looked up as his coffee was done, pouring him about three cups before he felt energised enough to go through the day.
Moving, he went to his door, slipping shoes on slowly and heading out the door, locking up. He needed to open the library for the day... o u t f i t
Song in my head
Heading to: Road to the library
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