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Amoeba sat on the old stone wall, her legs crossed, the wind tugging at his long brown hair. She sighed and crossed her arms, pale blue eyes staring out at a sea of long green grass.

Richard walked on the stone wall, looking down at her. He held in his hands a staff, which he used to balance himself on the old stone structure. "Hey Miss" he said , "Why are you down there so sad! It's a great day to be alive!" His long black hair waved in the wind, his bright green eyes shining from the sun's gentle touch.

I walk up to the both of u "oh srry but am I interupting something my car broke down..." I look away for a minute then I look at the girl "have i seen u from some where?" then I sat next to her

His name was Actinium, or at least that was what he somehow ended up being called, and since he couldn't remember his actual name he went along with it. He didn't really care what anyone decided his name was -- names weren't important. Doing something was important. Keeping moving, staying alive, surviving. That was all important stuff. It was a compulsion in his tainted blood, and when he was forced to sit still his blood felt like it was boiling in his body, so he kept on the run. Actinium wore a blue shirt and jeans, grass-stained, with a streak of ancient dirty oil on the left, and the seams split and the knee torn on the right. They were supposedly held in place by the thin brown belt buckled on, but the belt was kept at a notch too big to actually keep his pants up, so it was a good thing his pants were stylishly tight. He had a rough black beard, from keeping on the move all the time. Living where and how you could left little time of shaving, or combing the rest of his once-short greasy blond hair for that matter. He never could figure out why his facial hair didn't match.

Now he saw three people up ahead, or smelled three and saw two next to a wall. His hazel eyes widened with interest, and he debated whether to turn away to continue his solitary roaming or take a break and "meet" them. Instinct won out, and the boy strode jauntily over to the little gathering. He flashed a huge grin, showing off abnormally big and clean white human teeth. "Hello, all." He looked at them each expectantly.

"And hello to you, as well!", a high-pitched, yet not shrill voice called. In a few seconds a person had come running to this random congregation of four people, and had jumped on the stone wall, now crouching. His name? Technically, his name would be Asphexelion, or Asphex for short, but lots of people called him White-Hair, on account of his distinctive white hair and grey eyes. Most people weren't sure if he was ADHD or just plain insane, and many of them seemed more partial to the latter thought. He really didn't care about how people thought of him, or at least, that's what so many people hypothesized. Either way, it sure explained his clothing- it was rather nondescript, save for random blotches of oil and a rip here and there in the fabric. The oil came from the times he used to study mechanics. He was dissecting cars and putting them back together, and one time, he accidentally ruptured the gas tank, causing it to spill on him. Wait, why am I thinking about this, anyway? Shaking his head, he waited for someone to speak.

"sir aren't u the man....never mind I am Roxas" I held my hand out to shake his hand but then puts it down
"you don't remeber me do you?......... *sigh* this is hope less....."

looks down at the ground in pain "you don't remeber anything...."