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When We Die

When We Die

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This town has a bad reputation for deaths, ever since a shooting that took place over a hundred years ago. What no one knows, however, is that it has been the same group who loses their lives each time. [dead]

1,013 readers have visited When We Die since Ashes-6695 created it.

Introduction

Image The windows of the shops on the busy town street had shattered from the bullets that had been shot. Blood soaked the pavement. Over a Dozen had died. The shooter had come on what seemed to be a whim, and killed just about everyone in sight. The group of young people had tried to scatter, each grabbing for their friends, their girlfriends, but they couldn't escape in time, having only just exited the small town movie theatre to hear a symphony of gunshots. They were all knocked down by the bullets, and all but one died instantly.

The boy awoke in the hospital room the next day, the wounds in his shoulder and upper thigh taken care of, but the injuries had left him so weak. He kept asking, pleading with the nurses and doctors to tell him something about his friends. They had to have survived, hadn't they? But everyone insisted that they had no information that they could give him. It was a day before his friends' parents visited him, bearing sad smiles and telling him that they were glad he was okay. He begged them to give him information, to tell him that everyone was okay, but his heart had already begun sinking. They gave a long pause, none wanting to bring up the event.

"No," One parent had finally said. A few parents' tears had begun to shed down their faces. A few left the room. "None of them made it."

The boy broke down, putting a hand over his eyes. He'd suspected it. He'd had a feeling. They were his best friends, his girlfriend. They shared classes with him at the university. Their parents had had him over for dinner. And now, because he'd insisted on a day of cutting classes, of hanging out, going to town, they were all gone. They were all gone, and they were never coming back.

When he was released from the hospital, he was on crutches for the leg wound. His wounds would heal, he had been assured, but he'd sunk into a depression. Others tried to be friendly with him and invite him out at the university, but he denied them instantly, shaking his head and telling them he had plans instead. He separated from anyone who tried to connect with him, and started getting into some things that no one would have deemed appropriate for his depression. He'd pulled a book from a sketchy store, one bound in black leather, and spend months translating and going through the curses and black magic, transfixed on the idea that there was nothing his life was good for anymore. They were all dead, and he should have died too.

He found a particular curse, the name translating to resurrection, and figured there was nothing much he had to lose. He gathered an object from each one of his friends' rooms, and traveled to the graveyard where they'd been buried, bringing along the book, a knife, the objects, and a small handgun.

The scene in the morning found a symbol in blood on the ground, some scattered possessions, and a young man with a bullet through his head. The scene was gruesome, and filed immediately as a cult-related suicide. There was nothing much more they could do for the family. It was over, the tragedy could go no further. The pain could finally end.

But unfortunately, the curse had worked, at a terrible cost.

The group would be reborn, and become past aware, even. They rejoiced that they were all together again, despite not knowing what their friend had done for the situation. But the happiness and joy wasn't so long-lived. As the youngest of the group celebrated their 18th birthday, deaths would begin again. And then the cycle would start over. Remembering their own fate was no longer a celebration of realizing they were all together again, it was the horror of knowing what would come for them, and that they had no way to stop it. The boy has been struggling furiously to find the solution, to look for that book, or anything similar, but working by himself has been difficult. He just didn't want anyone to know what had really happened, but the group has begun to notice how he's distanced himself, and are trying to find their own solutions, though they can't quite find something when they don't know the cause. Its senior year, and two months before everyone in the group will be officially 18, but can anything really be done in time to solve the problem?

~тнє яσℓєѕ~


Boy 1~ UNAVAILABLE - taken by Savader.
General outline: Age 18. This boy was the only person of the group to survive the shooting. It's his fault that the cycle started and keeps repeating, and he's trying desperately to stop it. He's naturally a very friendly and kind person, but has become so much more introverted because of the situation. He's kind, but his stress has been causing him to distance even his close friends, and everyone is quite worried about him. Girl 1 was his girlfriend in their original lives, but he's been a little too on-edge for maintaining a relationship.

Girl 1~ RESERVED - LittleMissGeorgia
General Outline: Age 18. A sweet and caring girl, she seems to be constantly worrying about everyone else. It's not that she cares about everyone more than herself, she just has one of those personalities where she's worrying about everyone, and can get a little carried away getting into other people's business. She's almost mothering to others, but she can let loose when she wants to. Despite everything that's happened, she's quite optimistic that a solution can be found, and trying to bring out the positive side in everyone else. In her original life, He boyfriend was Boy 1, but he hasn't been showing too much of an interest lately for anything, especially a relationship, which worries her.

Boy 2~ UNAVAILABLE - taken by Spectrum
General Outline: Age 18. He's best friends with boy 1. More interested in being a wing man or a secondary role, he doesn't really care for himself as much as other people. As arrogant and confident as he can act, he seems to dislike himself a great deal. He has a bad habit of listening to anyone who bothers to start talking to him, and as long as the appropriate response to the person isn't a smile and a "you're such an idiot," he'll normally help out with any one's problems. There seems to be a reoccurring pattern of him being born to poor family situations with abuse or the like, though he keeps to himself about his issues.

Girl 2~ UNAVAILABLE - taken by Gypsy123
General Outline: Age 17. She's best friends with Girl 1. A simple girl with low self esteem. She seems confident that guys don't give her a second look... ever. She has a lot of quirks, and would always be the person to make a snide or humorous comment, despite her seeming self dislike. She's not very outgoing with anyone new, but has one of the most fun, spontaneous personalities. She's skilled in photography, but doesn't acknowledge how good she actually is. She has some small anxieties, but doesn't like to tell people.

Boy 3 ~ UNAVAILABLE - taken by OurStars
General Outline: Age 18. He's a bit of an arrogant asshole. He seems to think that he's the greatest catch a girl/guy could have, and loves to hear things about himself. Other people? Well, not so much. He seems be constantly reborn into well-off families that spoil him rotten, but tend to give him absolutely no attention, and he's fine with that. He loves getting whatever he wants and getting it exactly when he wants it. Despite his outward attitude, he seems to love music, and is very protective of other people. Both aspects of his personality he won't admit though, as if he actually likes being thought of as an asshole.

Girl 3~ UNAVAILABLE - taken by Gypsy123
General Outline: Age 18. She's a quiet girl with a very calm demeanor. She doesn't like to draw attention to herself very often, and rarely opens up about anything that's bothering her. Most people assume that she has to be the most calm, laid back person on earth, but she simply doesn't want other people to think she's just complaining if she brings up anything that bothers her. The stress gets to her sometimes, and it comes out a lot in her paintings. She loves music and art, and often just stays cooped in her garage painting and blasting loud alternative. She tends to conflict with Girl 1's worry-wart personality, but enjoys her company most of the time, and sort of has a crush on her.

Boy 4~ UNAVAILABLE - taken by OrphicTrumpeter
General Outline: Age 17. An artistic and athletic type. He can sit and draw for hours by himself, but doesn't mind being around people as much as others would think, as he does well with team sports. He seems outgoing enough, but rarely deals with people unless it's absolutely necessary. One reoccurring issue he is always born with is an extreme case of dyslexia, often to the point of just plain refusal to read. It's a mystery how he passes his classes, But it's been determined that He's been having Boy 5 do his homework. Boy 5 is his best friend, actually, and he's often stepping in when the guy's being bullied... which happens a lot.

Girl 4~ UNAVAILABLE - taken by confidence
General Outline: Age 17. A delicate-looking girl with a darker personality. She's a bit depressed, and is often born into situations where home life is stressful. She spends a lot of time trying to stay at different people's houses to avoid going home. Even if it means bunking at a guy's house. She's not really the type of girl that gets along with other girls specifically, as she's not really into talking about clothes or boys. She just gets along better and has more to talk about with the guys, so she hangs out with them more often. The only boy who really manages to get on her nerves most of the time is Boy 3, and she conflicts the most with Girl 5.

Boy 5~ UNAVAILABLE - taken by me
General Outline: Age 18. Originally the shy, bookworm type, he's moved onto being a bit of a computer and video game geek in more recent lives. He's shy and quiet, and seems to be the type who wouldn't - and couldn't - hurt a fly. Despite his kind demeanor, he's a bit of a know-it-all, and a bit of a nerd. He does well in school, but he's a little bit on the helpless side. His best friend is Boy 4, and he's got a bit of a deal going about doing his homework, and Boy 4 stops a lot of people from bullying him. He has a bit of a crush on Boy 4, but is fully aware that the other boy doesn't see him in that way at all. Boy 4 is oblivious to his crush, but most other people aren't so fooled.

Girl 5~ UNAVAILABLE - taken by OurStars
General Outline: Age 17. Sporty and outgoing, she is polar opposites with Girl 4, and tends to conflict with her the most. She excels at athletics and is fit, but has trouble from time to time maintaining her grades. She has a lot of friends outside of the circle, but doesn't count them as her "best friends." As kind and friendly as she is, she tends to get into a lot of bad stuff, and has low self esteem and self image. She puts on a smile, and goes for whatever guy/girl she wants, but doesn't really think very highly of herself, which is where other people's image of her is wrong. She normally has a half-way decent family situation, but gets hounded often for her faults by her family.

FREEBIES AVAILABLE UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE
General Outline: These characters are free game, and can have whatever situation their creator pleases. These characters are subject to approval, of course, but can be someone from the original shooting (if i allow it), a relative, or even just a friend of the group. All are plenty necessary.

~тнє ѕкєℓєтση~


Name: {First and last, middle is optional. For ressurected characters It doesn't matter what your name was in previous lives, but you can have a general idea of that, too, if you want}
Age: {should be 16+ and ages will be based also on what the role says}
Gender:
Are you past life aware?: {Ressurect Characters Only: Though plenty of you will just say YES, some characters might not be fully aware, or not aware at all yet. This isn't really something that characters apart from the shooting have anything to do with}
Role: {girl#/boy#/Freebie Character.... Also, and this is optional, if you have a pre-outlined character, you can copy and paste their outline here.}
Personality: {full sentences}
Your Details: {What life for your character is currently like, family, friends, etc. Full sentences}
Likes: {can list}
Dislikes: {can list}
Secrets:
Fears:
Sexual Orientation:
Crush: {you can start with one if its outlined in the role, and you want to keep it.}
Boyfriend/Girlfriend: {don't start with one}
Other: {Anything else you think is necessary}
Height:
Build:
Looks: {Picture, picture and a description, just a description. Anime vs real doesn't matter to me.}

Toggle Rules

1. Please handle the themes and topics with maturity and responsibility. The whole death thing is kinds of... idk, just try not to take it in any kinds of morbid ways or take any of the themes personally? I'm really not sure why i wrote this which such a boohoo theme in mind.
2. Please respect all other members, and don't exclude. If you notice someone is not interacting with any situations, find a way to bring them into the action.
3. When roleplaying sexual scenes, sensor the content before it gets to far and fade to black or something of that sort.
4. Swearing will probably be well used, and although i'm completely the type to write the full word without discretion (without over-use like a lamo) i think it would perhaps be best to star out the vowel or something? If we come to an agreement that it bothers none of us and we can handle the privilege, i guess this rule can be discarded.
5. No god-modding. Please, we are above making our characters dodge every single attack and bugging everyone about what they can and cannot do.
6. No mary-sues. These make for a two-dimensional character that can be quite predictable. Thats no fun, people.
7. No power-playing without permission. Of course. If i find that someone is being terribly inactive, i will decide what will become of their character.
8. Be specific while filling out character skeletons. Everything is subject to my approval, since i want to be sure that that the role play will function well.
9. I understand, SO MUCH READING, but remember to at least keep track of other people's posts, and make sure you're keeping up on announcements and small details of the role play, otherwise, this would become confusing.
10. Please please please let me know if you are dropping out from the role play or will be gone during a certain amount of time. Even if you can't make accommodations for your character, at least this way, i can do so, in order for the role play to continue.
11. Be literate to the best of your ability. Don't go overboard, but don't get by on a minimum either. Try to keep pace with everyone else, but don't attempt to type a certain amount just to post a long bit of nonsense space-filler. I'm more interested in quality, not quantity, and im sure everyone else would feel the same.
12. If you have questions, comments, concerns, or suggestions for the roleplay, just let me know! I won't bite your head off, and i youre suggestion might be helpful~! As well, you might have a question that everyone else has too.
13. Have fun and be creative! We can have a good time, can't we? Idk, maybe sometimes.

The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 6 authors

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Michael Gawain Calvagh
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Gawain pushed firmly on the AV cart, straining against the resistance of the wheels to the slight rise in the floor where the door way to the parking lot was. The door he'd propped up with a rock to keep it out of his way, but the small metal ledge that was possibly just a centimeter above the linoleum floors was proving to be more than enough of a challenge for the cart. He strained one last time, leaning on his side of the cart to try and lift the front wheels over the bump. The cart sped past the area, and would have escaped him had the bump not slowed the back wheels enough to keep his force from following through. Gawain released a small breath of relief, glad that the task had been completed without needing to call someone a little stronger for assistance. After all, having absolutely zero muscle did him no favors with doing anything, even if it was just moving some old computer parts outside to put them in the trunk of his piece-o-crap car.

He pushed the cart down the uneven pavement of the school parking lot, having to struggle more in some areas than others, but essentially having not too much of an issue bringing the equipment the rest of the way to his car. He'd gotten some plans for hacking some pretty heavy duty files, and at the very least, the extra motherboards and backup software from the computers he'd snatched would keep him from slowing down when the firewalls tried to crash his system. It was hardly legal, of course. He was digging into a program that was none of his business, but it was like a bad habit. There wasn't much he could really do, and perhaps it was just that the idea of doing this kind of thing gave him a rush, a thrill. Certainly no reason to stop the only thing he was good at.

Stopping the cart beside his car, he quickly unlocked the trunk and popped it open, leaning halfway inside of the vehicle's backside as he pushed around the disheveled items that lay back there. A couple car essentials he didn't know how to use, an old blanket he used to cover up some of his equipment if he didn't want people to see, some loose change (mostly in pennies) that he simply didn't want to pick up, and a couple wires he still hadn't returned to the AV club after borrowing them and realizing he'd no use for them. Gawain took a deep breath, leaning against the bumper of the car and rubbing his sore wrist. The skin at which, had turned mostly a deep red colour, though at the center boasted a blackish bruise. He'd been grabbed in the locker room again - such an attack he didn't normally repeat to anyone, which tended to be easier since none of his friends shared the class with him - and upon trying to twist out of the much stronger boy's grip, received what seemed to be a combination of an Indian Sunburn and a bruise at the same time. It throbbed with the sting of a sprain, and though he planned to ice it when he got home, he'd all but forgotten about it since it happened, doing nothing but feeling the pain. He hardly concerned himself about it. It was normal, after all.

He pulled his brown Skullcandy Aviators headphones down, letting them sit around his neck to allow him to keep an ear out. Most everyone was gone from the school grounds, aside from club members or sports teams, or maybe just a few students with cars that were taking their sweet time pulling off campus. But even still, he couldn't be too careful, couldn't stop being on edge. Sudden, out-of-the-blue events always tended to be his downfall in the past, and being a little paranoid had just become normal. Normal enough to mask it, anyway. He could look as relaxed as he wanted, but it didn't mean relaxed was how he felt. The soft noise from his headphones mulled with the air, difficult to hear unless you were within a few feet, giving off the tune of Radioactive by Imagine Dragons.

Gawain took a deep breath, rolling up the sleeves of his pale blue plaid flannel over shirt a little higher till they were up above his elbows, and focused his attention back on all his gear. Shit was this going to be heavy. He'd managed to get them onto the cart by pushing them on, but there was going to have to be some lifting to get them into his car. Propping one side of the first piece, he got as good a grip as he could with his bony little fingers, straining with hands shaking slightly as he lifted the machinery upward about half an inch from the cart, leaning it against his chest, and huffing his was over to his trunk to drop it in, just barely managing the task without the drop completely wrecking the equipment. He breathed a sigh of relief, trying to be sure he got in enough air. Looking back over at the cart, however, his hear sank just a little. He still had to go through the strenuous process two more times.

Letting out a small moan at the task, he dug his fingers underneath the second one, biting down on his lower lip as he lifted and attempted the short trip from the cart to his car again. His grip was even shakier this time, and before the task could be completed, the heavy object tumbled from his weak grip to hit the ground with a loud crack of the plastic outer shell, bits and pieces of it scattering and breaking off.

"Fuck," He muttered, panting from the strain on his body and how the object's dropping had startled him. He found himself only more on edge, shoulders hunched and body tense, even as he crouched down and started gathering up as much of the broken bits as he could in one hand, dropping them on the lower level of the AV cart when he'd grabbed all that he could.

The damage wasn't too bad, only the outside had suffered, but dropping something was never a pleasurable experience. He tried to tell himself that the parts from it were still going to be usable, but one could never be totally sure. Who could say how much the inside had gotten jumbled up from the blow? It might not show, but taking it apart later might reveal it's uselessness. Honestly the whole deal was just making him even more depressed than the school day at large had done. It wasn't as if he'd made it through the day with only the wound to his wrist, after all, though the injury definitely wasn't helping with the task he was trying to perform. If it hadn't already been sprained, it probably would be soon. He tried not to dwell on the idea. Thinking about the pain was just what would make it hurt more, and the last thing he wanted to do was show off that he was hurting.

I'm fine, he told himself. I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine.

Grabbing onto the object once again, he propped it up sideways, trying to make the distance upward a little less, before pulling up on it suddenly. The shock the action sent through the injured hand was almost instantaneous, and though he didn't shout out, or moan, or wince, he retracted the hand and held it in close, putting the other hand over the injury as if to protect it and let the computer drop back down to the ground with another crack following its landing.

Bad idea.

Terrible idea.

I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine.

He dropped his arms back to his sides, shaking out the injured wrist as if the action could wave away the pain as he walked in a small anxious circle to try and relieve some of his tenseness. He could go off looking for someone a little stronger and a little less injured to help him out with moving the objects? No, no, he wasn't about to beg someone for help. That only made him look even more pathetic. But Gawain certainly wasn't about to be getting the other two computers into his car, or even back onto the AV cart the rate he was going. He tried to weigh his options, leaning against the bumper of his car again as he pulled his sleeves down again, trying to cover up the injury that way, but knowing any movement would make it visible once again. He could hide the injury, simply play it off that he was too weak to lift it. Perhaps just being generally thought of as weak was a little more dignified that showing that he'd received yet another wound for not being able to defend himself. Or perhaps he could say the injury was from falling, a simple act of clumsiness, and that was why he required the assistance. Neither option really tickled his fancy. He almost just wanted to leave everything where it was and drive away, forget about the whole thing. The dropped computer was useless by now anyway, wasn't it? But he very well knew that he'd pay for the irresponsibility later on. There was just no good way to handle it, really.

Sighing, he got up from his place and shut the trunk, being sure to lock it before beginning a walk away from the scene. If someone grabbed the stuff, then fine, they could have it. If they didn't, then Gawain would attempt the task again with a fresh start. But he needed a break, at the very least. Even if it wasn't to look for help necessarily. If he came across it, he figured asking wouldn't hurt, despite how he absolutely hated the idea. He knew he was absolutely useless, but sometimes a guy just likes to act like he isn't at the very least.

He cornered the school to the back of the building where most of the fields and track were. It was a much busier area at this point in the day, even for people who might not be interested in the sports so much as they were to be smoking underneath the bleachers. Gawain sort of just edged the school, trying not to draw attention to himself and only thinking that looking for help from one of his friends was going to look so pathetic that it wasn't even worth it. He simply played it off like the whole point was just to take a walk, to take a look at things, whatever. Forget the help. He'd do a lap around the school and try again himself. If he still was having trouble, he'd just forget about it. Leave the broken computer on the pavement and push the AV cart inside. He'd go home and ice his wrist for a while, hang around the house and try not to be bothered with anything.

As the song switched from Radioactive to Oblivion by Grimes, he picked up his headphones, placing them back over his ears to block out the number of people in the area. That was the nice thing about headphones, they were a little sign to everyone that someone really just wasn't interested in conversation. The bad thing about them was they left Gawain in particular a little more vulnerable to being snuck up on. He took one more glance around before turning back instead of completing the lap, heading directly back for the parking lot. He was in no mood for seeking assistance. He just felt generally too crappy for that. Maybe someone would come along and notice that he'd had trouble, but he doubted so. Things almost never work out the way one wants them to, after all.

But he could handle it on his own, he told himself. All his wrist needed was a break. He could get the rest of the stuff in his car, no problem. He was absolutely. Positively. One hundred percent. fine.

He repeated the statement again and again in his mind.

If he thought it enough, maybe it would make it a little less untrue.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wasalu Armando Character Portrait: Michael Gawain Calvagh
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Wasalu closed his eyes. He could almost feel the rain he had been wishing for all day. Dante had started a garden and whenever Wasalu went to his brother's home, Dante had him water the plants. His dad was off to something in the city, a book exposition with tons of authors who might fund the library, so Wasalu was living with his brothers at the moment. He disliked having to garden, though. He wished it would rain just for that alone. But then we wouldn't get to play soccer, would we? He thought, smiling to himself.

He had stayed after school because his brothers were both too busy to pick him up today. He could've walked home, but he was too lazy to do that. So instead he had told himself he'd go to soccer practice-- and instead ended up daydreaming under a tree by the field. The coach normally found him slacking off when the team had to jog around the field, but today he'd been held up by his English teacher. It was always annoying to get held up-- he hated having to talk about how he was no good at school things. There were only so many times he could talk about how difficult it was for him to read before he wanted to knock someone out. Some of his teachers still called his home to ask his father about ways to help Wasalu learn to like reading. It made school a pain in the ass. The only upside to having to listen to all of this was that Diego would always get just as upset as Wasalu did, which was especially funny if Diego was the one to come pick Wasalu up while one of the more brave teachers felt the need to approach someone in the Armando family.

The shouts from the field let him know that the soccer team was still practicing. He hadn't gone yet, but he could go still. He needed to attend at least one soccer practice this week. Maybe kick the ball around, joke around with the other guys... But he felt like painting. He didn't always have his easel and canvas-- today being one of the days that Dante had caught him trying to leave the house with his painting supplies and had taken them away so that Wasalu wouldn't ditch class-- and as such, he couldn't just start painting what he saw. He supposed he could sketch, though. When he opened his bag, he found he didn't have his sketch book.

Well, this is slightly annoying. He thought after his search. Zipping up his bag, he sighed and thought, I guess it's in my locker? Getting up, he slung his bookbag over his shoulder and started towards the school.

He hadn't gotten far before he saw someone walking around the school. It kind of seemed as though the person was frustrated with something or... trying to hide from someone? Wasalu frowned slightly. It wasn't just anyone. Gawain! He realized. The way he was walking was far too fast to be a normal romp around school. Is he being bullied again? Wasalu quickly scanned the area. Wait, wait... Gawain's not dumb. He'd come get me if he needed me. And he'd probably be less relaxed if he was being chased. Wasalu thought. Still, he surveyed the area for someone following him. There was no one around looking like they particularly cared about the scrawny boy's current antics. Okay... maybe he managed to lose them? Wasalu thought. But Michael wasn't walking around like he was relaxed and happy... Maybe he was still in trouble. In any case, people normally didn't bother Michael if he was with Wasalu, so he figured he'd help Michael hide for a bit before Diego showed up to pick Wasalu up from soccer practice. So he jogged over to Michael, who looked like he was going to the parking lot.

...Doesn't he have a car...? Wasalu thought. What's Gawain doing wandering around the school if he's got a car? I wouldn't even be in school if I had a car. He paused to think about it, but then assumed he was too stupid to figure out what his genius friend was doing. Michael was too smart, it made Wasalu worry that his friend disliked how absolutely stupid Wasalu could be every now and then. He did, however, note Michael's headphones and decided not to approach Michael from behind. He caught up to Michael easily since the boy really wasn't doing a good job hiding himself.

"Gawain...?" He asked, hoping his friend didn't jump out of his skin. "You busy? Wanna go with me to grab my sketch book?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hope Hathaway Character Portrait: Diana Maroone
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"Do not come back until your grades have improved, Hope Hathaway" yelled Marcus Hathaway as Hope left the house and slammed the door behind her. Hope went straight toward the local riding stable. That's usually where she went after a fight with her parents. "Why can't you be more successful, Like Cherice!" Angela Hathaway-Martin would cry. "Or get honor role like Matthew" Marcus would say. Those words echoed in Hope's head as she walked on the towards the stable. The fight had started with Hope showing her parents the 70% she had gotten on her algebra test. Angela had grabbed it and showed Marcus. Marcus had ripped it up right in front of Hope. "This isn't good enough Hope!" he had yelled. Then Hope had called them rather rude names and went to her room.

She had stayed in there for an hour before her father came knocking. "Pack your bags Hope, I'm sending you to your aunt and uncles. They have a private school where they live" he had told her. "No fucking way!" Hope shouted. She slammed the door in Marcus's face and locked the door. She did pack her bags. After calling Diana and asking if she could stay with her for the rest of the week. "Well well, have you been studying for that English test in a few days?" asked Angela, with her arms full of cooking supplies. "No, I'm going to Diana's" Hope had snarled. "No you are not! that girl never goes to school, and when she does she has her ears full of that damn racket" Marcus told her. "Yes I am. Goodbye" Hope snapped and went for the door.

Once she got to the barn. Hope took out her camera and went to the gelding paddock. There was four horses grazing together. A leopard Appaloosa named Finnigan, a grey welsh pony named Duster, a bay thoroughbred that went by the name of King, and finally Hope's favorite, the palomino quarter horse called Golden Graffiti. Or Graffi for short. After she was done taking pictures, Hope grabbed the halter off the pole and entered the paddock. Instantly, Duster raced off to the far corner of the paddock. Finnigan just watched her apprehensively and King trotted away a little. Graffi stood like a perfect gentleman and his head dropped into her cradled arms. Hope felt better and stroked his head before slipping the halter on. She tied the lead rope to the other side of the halter and swung them over his head. She led him over to the hay holder and stepped onto it. She swung her leg over the left side and hoisted herself up onto him and trotted to the gate. Holding her camera to her neck so it wouldn't get damaged.

She dismounted and opened the gate. Lead Graffi out and back into the barn where she brushed off the access dirt and tacked him up in clean English tack. Just as she was about to lead him out again, her coach. Claudia Mendez stopped her. "How long today?" she asked. "Half an hour. I have fifteen in my bag" she told her. Claudia smiled. "Have fun Hope" and she sauntered her way to the mare field. Hope went into the outdoor arena where three jumps were set up in a small course. Hope trotted Graffi, then cantered him to warm him up first. After she was sure he was okay she began to jump him.

Hope steered him toward the first jump. It was 2,3 diagonal with red and white stripes. They cleared it effortlessly. Graffi tried to cut the corner and speed up a little. Hope forced him into the corner and slowed him down with a series of half-halts. The next jump was a smaller x jump that was plain white with some flowers around it. He stumbled a bit before the jump and Hope almost fell off. She managed to gather him up before the last jump. It was a 2,6 green and blue diagonal. Hope leaned back and put on some extra leg. Graffi sped up and took off to early leaving Hope behind a little but she caught up once they were over it.

Hope cooled him off for a few minutes and dismounted. She had feeling a lot better now. The fight with her parents a mere memory. After releasing him and paying Claudia. Hope went back to town. She passed her street and walked to Diana's. Already she could hear the haunting melody of Evanescence "Sweet Sacrifice" playing in the garage that was basically Diana's cave.

Diana had spent her morning the same as usual. She woke up on the cot in the garage. After deciding she did want to wake up. She sneaked into the house to grab some clothes and serial. Then she had received the call from Hope. She spent the rest of the day clearing the messy garage of it's chocolate wrappers and empty pizza boxes. All through the day her music played. Diana drew some pictures of her friends and was just starting to draw Hope's wheat colored hair when there came a knock on the garage door.

"Hey, come on in" Diana told her. She was resisting the urge not to sing along to the music so she wouldn't look like an idiot. "Why weren't you at school yesterday?" Hope asked, collapsing into the cot. She jumped back up as a crackling sound came from underneath. "Sorry, Coke can" Diana laughed then shrugged. "Well I missed the bus and my parents were to lazy to drive so I figured I should just stay home and...work"

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Character Portrait: Hannah Greene
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The sports' facilities of the school, the track, courts, etc, are all being utilized by various students, or at least have people milling around them for lack of other things to do. Many teams are currently training, ranging from lacrosse to track and field, although others must be included. Of course, there is also conditioning for some fall sports; namely soccer, football and cheerleading, with a few volleyball players going through self-conditioning. The tennis team practices on the courts, and the sound of occasional grunting and the squeak of shoes against the court can be heard once one nears that general area. It is there that one may find an exceptionally athletic young woman, though her academics are not exactly at the same standard. Technically, she should probably be at the soccer conditioning, if only to maintain the standards in the sport that she has kept up over the years, but in Junior year she had joined the tennis team, and plans to continue it for her final year of high school as well. This is by no means a wise decision, for it only stretches the young woman even thinner, but she mentions to no one the fact that she feels any sort of stress at all. Instead, she smiles and laughs, then kicks some ass in a game of one to one basketball. Or, as the case is right now, plays a fairly prolonged match of tennis against one of the better players on the team. Although Hannah had never played competitively before last year, she did take lessons as a child, and continued going to the tennis courts during the summer through middle school. Add that to the fact that she has the stamina and speed from soccer, as well as the power from basketball, and that makes her fairly decent at picking up on this particular sport.

Hannah slams a racket against the incoming tennis ball, her body bracing itself for a millisecond between the contact and the rebound, before the rubber ball is sent back to the other side of the court. This rally has been going on for a few minutes now, and the score is 15-40, with Hannah on the losing end. Of course, the young woman has never been the sort to take defeat lying down, and the glittering in her eye promises a fight and, if she can pull it out, a comeback. Sweat is beading her forehead, but she hasn't time to wipe it away before the ball is smacked back towards her, bouncing powerfully off of the court before flying to the furthest left corner. She springs forward and reaches out, holding the racket with only hand, to miraculously manage to hit the ball back. It doesn't have much momentum as it is sent back to her opponent, but she is content with the fact that she was able to return it in the first place. The ball is sent back, and this time she sees a falter in the opposition- he is standing too far on one edge of the court, doing so because he had to get to the weird location of the last hit. Hannah runs forward and smashes against the ball, sending it to the opposite side of the court. With this, the score goes up to 30-40. This makes the competitive young woman grin, giving the opposition a challenging look before serving the ball. With that, the game goes into full swing.

Approximately fifteen minutes later, the young woman sits on a bench, leaning against the chain-link fence of the tennis court with a wet towel covering her eyes. She finishes off an entire bottle of water in a matter of seconds, tossing it into the waste basket beside her afterwards. "Good match, Hannah," rings the voice of her previous opponent in her ears. She sits up straight, allowing the towel to slip into her lap, and smiles goofily at him.

"Aw, I got lucky," she tells him, picking up the towel and ringing it off to the side, so that no water drips on her athletic shorts. Most of the girls on the team seem to prefer tennis skirts, but Hannah herself just wears the shorts that she uses for basketball and soccer- it's a lot easier than buying a new uniform or something like that, and she simply likes it better than the skirts.

"Yeah, right. Hey- what'd you get on the last Math test?" he asks, no ill-intentions in this question. The guy is in a different math class than she is, and doesn't know that she is struggling to make the cut. However, no sign of this is revealed in her face, no sign of her worries shown, as she makes a silly face and crosses her eyes, as though to express making a stupid but rare blunder.

"Yeah, not so hot. I forgot to study," she admits with a shrug. The young man politely avoids mentioning the fact that he had only asked because he wanted to see whether the test was as easy to everyone else as he thought it was. Actually, it was one of the easiest tests of this semester. But that didn't mean Hannah wouldn't have had to study to pass it- the only reason she's in an advanced math course is because she studies her ass off for every little thing, and even then she can't make the grade her grandparents expect of her.

"Ah, yeah, that one was difficult," he lies, rocking back on his heels with hands clasped behind his back awkwardly. Hannah can feel the lie in his voice, and tries not to frown. After a silent moment, he leaves, practice over. Hannah begins to gather her things, and the math test falls out, covered with angry red marks. She crumples it up in her hand and shoves it as deep into the bag as she can manage. I'll do better next time, she promises, the rush of joy from winning the match fading quickly. It doesn't matter how many victories the young woman has, because each failure is like a knife through her stomach. I'll just shower in the locker room, she decides, ignoring the fact that this decision is made purely to put off going home. Her grandparents always seem to know when she's had a test recently. The young woman slings her back over one shoulder and begins walking back towards the school.

[Jeremy coming soon]

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Character Portrait: Amy Roswell
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    Most people had something to do after school. They were hanging out with their friends, playing a sport, attending a study session, going to a club meeting... they all had an excuse. But the girl with constant rain in her eyes sitting on the bench didn't. She was sitting cross-legged, a black backpack beside her, sitting atop a 2" binder. Her hair curled around her eyes, the shorter locks finding release from a tight ponytail. Her eyes were glazed over, her hands were tightly folded, and she looked lonely above all. Her name was Amy Roswell, and it was clear to anyone who passed her that she had no idea what she was supposed to do. She pulled her jacket closer to her, trying to force its military green to impress upon her skin, leave an imprint. She was bored, and she was alone. It wasn't unusual, for her to be wrapped in her own solitude, but it wasn't a usual day. It was her sister's birthday, and Amy desperately needed someone to distract her from the date. The two were on rocky ground, though Clarice often tried to brush over the awkwardness with a pathetic attempt to pretend things had never happened.

    But things had happened, and Amy had never been one for pretending. Not that kind of pretending, anyway.

    She bent her knees and pulled them to her chest to her chest, hugging them closer and resting her chin in between. The school day had been relatively uneventful. It was the same thing over and over, wasn't it? But she couldn't think herself out of this edge she found herself stuck on, precariously peering over the top to blink at the chaos underneath. She knew that, if she jumped, things couldn't get any better. But now, with nothing around her but flat space and a sinfully tempting sort of danger, it was hard to imagine anything better. Exactly, Amy told herself, things aren't going to get better. You just stay where you are, and that's fine.

    A few years ago, Amy had lost her ambition. She had woken up, and the desire to succeed had evaporated. She slid by in school, keeping a B- average, rarely put her effort in anything... some people called her lackluster. And that was alright with Amy; she wasn't like the others. Had any of them seen their father fucking their daughter? Probably not. God, she hoped not; having it happen to her was bad enough, and she hated to think of others suffering the same way. No, she wasn't planning on going to college. She was planning on buying a one-way ticket to some faraway country and living on her own. Maybe Africa. Maybe Europe. But probably Russia. Something about its history had always fascinated her, for whatever reason.

    "Hey! What are you still doing here?"

    Amy looked up, allowing a flicker of hope to flare. Nope, it wasn't for her. It was for someone else. How pathetic. She watched them anyway, sinking her feet in self-pity, indulging herself. The speaker had been a male, which was why she had assumed it was for her. How many girlfriends did she have? This one was the boy she had seen around before, but hadn't taken the time to notice. He was tall, lanky, with dark hair and striking light eyes. But other than his eyes... he was normal. And normalcy always came with happiness; they just couldn't help it. They were a little shallow, a little superficial, a little lacking in depth and wisdom in the world, and therefore had to be happy. It wasn't something Amy held against them; how could she begrudge anyone for being happy? She just felt a little sorrow for the youth she had lost.

    He embraced a tiny girl, petite and cute and angelic looking. She smiled up at him so impishly Amy blushed just watching them. She was the outsider now, the invader of a private moment. The two stared at each other. No kiss, no words, merely a gaze. It should be disgusting, but Amy couldn't stop the sigh that came from her lips. If only all of that were real. She still hoped it was, inside of her, though she refused to admit it to herself. Maybe one day. The couple had heard her sighing, looked her way, and brought their eyebrows together simultaneously when they saw that she was watching them. The girl took the boy's hand and began pulling him away, but not without glancing over her shoulder to glare at her. Freak, her eyes hissed.

    Oops.

    Maybe the bench wasn't the best place to watch people. Amy grabbed her binder, pulled on her backpack, and began to roam about the school, searching for a familiar face, a familiar voice, a familiar anything. She just didn't want to be called a freak anymore, and she didn't want to wallow in self-pity any longer. Even she knew it was unhealthy, and tried to avoid it. Which actually said something, really.

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Character Portrait: Amy Roswell Character Portrait: Jeremy Royce
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Although the day is far from over, a lowering sun filters light through the dirty window of the unused music room on the second floor of the local high school. The room is known as the sort of place where people eat during lunch when they have no where else to go, or hide away in when they don't want to face anything else. The room is infamous and yet unknown, reputation spread through those that have something to hide, but a mystery to the open-public. It is a well-known fact that the room, though not legally, belongs to the underdogs of the school, and is one territory which will never, ever be taken away from them. It is a pedestal and a safe haven for the downtrodden, the afraid, and the alone. Were one to walk by it at this moment, they would hear a soft strumming of an acoustic guitar, and the gentle sound of a hand hitting its side to the beat of the song, filling in for a missing percussion instrument. Perhaps they would follow such a noise, but more likely than not it would be dismissed as a practicing member of jazz band or someone who takes guitar practicing for a playing test or something. If they knew the precise room which it was in, perhaps they'd expect to find a gathering of unknown musicians of the school, quietly talking and playing their instrument. What one would not expect to see is the hand that moves to write down notes on a sheet of paper every time the music stops for a moment. More specifically, they would not expect to see the person to whom the hand belongs: Jeremy Royce, a young man known for his wealth, charm, and arrogance. The young man with no secrets, because he seems to proudly wear everything on his sleeve.

And yet he is sitting alone in that room, the room of misfits and loners and those with something to hide, playing a guitar the school doesn't know he has, writing the song in a book that only he has ever lain eyes on. Were someone actually to peek into the room, they would be met with a quick excuse and a smirk of sorts as he runs off, frantically hiding his things in any way which he can. The young man comes early and stays late on the days like this, when he wants to play his guitar in that magical and miserable and generous room. After all, what would the great Royce family say if they learned that their son, the person who is supposed to follow in their footsteps and become great and wealthy and practical, not to spend hours in the afternoon strumming away on his guitar, writing silly songs and secretly envisioning a life which surely holds nothing for the wealthy young man. Such a thing would certainly not be approved of by Mr. and Mrs. Royce, regardless of the given explanation. Sure, he can sleep around and get drunk and do whatever else he wants- as long as he doesn't appear to have any ambitions outside of business and politics. Following some sort of Say's Law for parenting, they simply expect him to sort himself out by himself. Of course, he has never lived far enough to do such a thing, so whether he would have remains up only for speculation.

His ears are finely tuned for constant vigilance, and at the sound of footsteps down the hallway, Jeremy is up in a flash, zipping up the guitar and stashing it in the cupboard off to the side, also unzipping his backpack to slip the notebook into it. After all, wouldn't people think him silly for writing songs in a notebook like some slightly angsty girl? Those are the young man's fears, anyway, partially due to a surprisingly narrow world, despite the vastness of his opportunity within it. And thus, his things are stowed away from potentially prying eyes as the young man slings a surprisingly light backpack over his broad shoulders and opens the door. The way he opens it is peculiar for the boy, who normally is the type to throw it open and waltz on in, commanding attention and acting as though he owns the place. But this is a different situation, though not a different boy. Once he is a few feet away from that infamous and yet unknown room, the saunter returns, confidence in the way that he walks and an amused sort of arrogance in the sparkle in his eyes and the smirk across his face. Now safe from the incriminating evidence, the guitar having no easily noticed connection to him, he can return to his normal, arrogant, rude, charming, insufferable self. The wealthy boy who bought up the local teen hotspot just for the hell of it; the one who never seemed to be affected by any insults or glares; the indomitable boy with the world at his fingertips. The world at his fingertips, and the guitar hidden away in the room for the hiding and the lonely. Such an unexpected contradiction, though it does very little to alter his personality.

He could identify the one who made the footstep noises only moments within exiting the unsafe zone, and who would it be besides Amy Roswell, one of the girls in his group of friends who seems to rather loathe him- as well as one of the few who have very little of their memories reclaimed. He rather envies her that, for it seems nice to not have to know about your past mistake, life, and -the worst of all- to remember every single past death, and see it in your dreams. Not thinking about these things at the moment, he gives her the most obnoxiously arrogant smirk he can muster, and quirks his eyebrows up slightly to further enhance the effect.

"Hey there, Roswell. Lurking around the hallways as usual, I see?" although they are not enemies, the two do have some sort of slight tension, though he likes to think of it as unrequited- insults seem to bounce off of him, or at least seem to on the surface. And he has pretty much convinced himself of the lie that he has no emotions or sensitivity to insults. Jeremy leans against the hall in front of her, not actually blocking her way but giving the appearance of doing so.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Hannah Greene Character Portrait: Hope Hathaway Character Portrait: Nathan Hartwell Character Portrait: Amy Roswell Character Portrait: Wasalu Armando Character Portrait: Jeremy Royce Character Portrait: Diana Maroone Character Portrait: Michael Gawain Calvagh
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#, as written by Savader
'Is today the day...?' I kept thinking. Over and over again as I stared at my watch, as I did every new day that came to greet me. 'Is today the day...?' I constantly find myself asking that question... Just hoping that I'm wrong today too, that it's just another day that I can use to my advantage. And while I know that it at least shouldn't be, I also know that things don't always go according to how they're designed... 'Is today the day...?' My small bedroom in my tiny apartment was completely silent at the moment; the only sound that could be heard was the gentle ticking of my pocket watch, which, to me, sounded as though it were as heavy as the Elizabeth Tower's hands. The sound had become so regular for me, it now constantly echoed in my mind, even when I wasn't looking at the watch itself... Some may call this torture, but I look at it as a chance to survive the coming fire...

I was merely laying on my back, in bed, with a hand behind my head, making it seem like I was just relaxing. A typical thing a teenager like myself would be doing for no apparent reason, right? Wrong. I wasn't a typical teenager in the slightest... I've already been down this road several times, and it became old a long ago. But as for now, it's all I know. It was already morning, and I, 'Nathan Hartwell', was currently late for first period. I was debating on whether or not to even GO to school, nevermind making it in time for first period... I let out a sigh as I looked down at my watch, knowing what my friends would say if they knew I was really like this. The only word I could currently think of that would fit my attitude as of yet, would be "emo". It's rather stereotypical, and I don't think I fit all the requirements of the title, but it's likely the closest matching one for someone as hopeless as I am. "No one understands me", "Nothing matters to me", "My dark heart is only outmatched by my dark soul"... Blah. I think nothing of the sort. I'm glad no one understands the real me, and although the only things that matter to me are very few, they still exist, only consisting of my friends, and agenda towards keeping them alive and well... Which never seems to go the way I want. Heh, maybe I should blame my "dark heart and soul" for that, huh?

"Is today the day....." I said out loud this time, now pausing, as if I were waiting for someone to respond. No one did, of course, as I was the only one living here. I left my 'parents' place last year after saving up enough to get this place. Couldn't handle being in a new family for the umpteenth time... After doing so over around 5 times thus far, it gets a little tiring... Oh, you must think I'm an orphan or something. Well, in a sense, I guess that could be true, but not the type you're thinking of. Just take my word for it; you don't wanna know... It'll just complicate things. Trust me.

After getting tired of mindlessly looking at my watch for the past hour or so, I decided to put it back in my pocket, and raise myself up. I was fully dressed, mind you. As I said; I was debating on whether or not to go to school today. Having said that, I already dressed myself for the day. "I guess I might as well... If I don't, 'she' might get on my case..." I said with a sigh. The person I was referring to is a close friend of mine. One of the few who have...such a 'strong' memory, like myself... Yeah, let's put it like that for now... This person is can be quite invading when it comes to her friends, and even more so when it comes to me, which only burdens me more... She of course MEANS well, but all it honestly does is set me back, which is NOT what I need in this life... Either way, if I leave now, I should be able to make it in time for second period, so I suppose I should head out now... This was the start of the first day of what I had hoped to be my first REAL life, as well as my last... Which, as any would guess, is how it is for everyone...right?

After grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder, I stepped up to my front door, and pulled out my pocket watch once more, giving it a check... "Is today the day...we die...?" I said, an obvious melancholic tone in my voice, only propelling the "emo" theory even further for anyone who's reading this, I'm sure. Trust me though, I'm not. I promise. "Well... Time to start it, either way..." I finished, re-pocketing my watch, and setting out for school... This was how most of my days began. Me, waking up, eating some breakfast, getting dressed...and then debating whether or not I should become a friggin' recluse for the rest of eternity...only to end up deciding to go to school in the end. I suppose it was a subconscious thing-- the reason why I always decided to go anyway, I mean... It likely has something to do with the LAST time I cut school... I shudder now even at the thought of it... And so, with that, I'll go ahead and speed up time, so as to meet up with the rest of the world. No, no. This isn't an ability of mine. Just a time skip...


-Several hours later, after school-



Yet another boring day of school. Sure, I got to see some of my friends today, but nothing ever changes. It's all such a waste of time, what with our damn lives being predetermined failures... Okay, THAT sounded pretty emo, I'll admit, but seriously...I'm not.

Of all the things I could be doing right now, I was instead...sitting up in a tree...still at school. I had a good view of the layout from here, and could nearly see everything I needed to. I caught Michael having some trouble with computer monitors before he left in search of help, after failing at it himself, which I had even thought to help the poor guy myself, but figured I'd best stay out of it, knowing that it would only embarrass him if he found out I had seen him so clearly. And what would it look like, having one of your closest friends watching over you like a hawk... I was also able to see Jeremy and Amy having a heated conversation in the school halls. I swear, those two always seem to clash at some point each day... Always have for a long time...like a REALLY long time. After cracking a slight smile, I thought about how Jeremy was still trying his damnedest to hide his little 'secret', which I honestly thought was pretty awesome. Of course, I'd never confront him about it. For obvious reasons. Wasalu was likely hanging out in the soccer field, which was blocked by the school from my position, and couldn't make it out clearly. Only seeing the very far-right side, which stretched out passed the school's main building. But he obviously wasn't participating in today's practice, which he often skipped out on... Another athletic friend of mine, Hannah, was probably kicking some ass on the tennis courts, like usual. She was pretty good, and I honestly felt that I had to commend her for it, even if it was only to myself.

The rest of my friends, I had no positive knowledge of at the moment. They either weren't at school, or were still in classes, which I obviously had no way of knowing from here. Although, Hope liked riding her horse as often as she could, so she was likely out riding at this moment, but she, as well as Diana, were rather unpredictable at times, despite me learning everyone's schedules, hobbies, as well as the way their minds work fairly well...again... They still tend to surprise me quite a bit. Which is what I thought having such good friends was all about. These thoughts made me smile, but I quickly lost it when I thought about how I didn't fit such a category... The whole reason why things are so broken for us in our lives, was because of me, after all... But I could never tell them that... Too afraid of their likely resentment towards me... These friends are the only constant thing in my existence, and if I lose that... "I'll have nothing..." I said out loud to myself in a low tone. But, if one good thing were to come of today, it would be that today wasn't...'the day'... However...it was only 4 in the afternoon, so there was still a lot of time left for this 'day' to play out...

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Character Portrait: Wasalu Armando Character Portrait: Michael Gawain Calvagh
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"Gawain...?"

Gawain flinched slightly at the sudden sight of his friend, pulling his headphones quickly down around his neck just in time to hear the last syllable of his name. The music hit the air just as the tune changed to Baby's on Fire by Die Antwoord. Gawain couldn't help but give a small sigh of relief that it had just been Wasalu and not someone else.

"You busy? Wanna go with me to grab my sketch book?" Wasalu asked.

Gawain gave his friend a faint smile, mainly to keep his friend's attention on his face while he made about tucking his hand on the injured side into his back pocket, out of view, while he still decided what his story was going to be for the injury. While hiding it's existence might have proved difficult, getting Wasalu to believe a tale about injuring it himself could prove easily as difficult. For now, he kept the topic out of the way and unseen. Perhaps he'd come up with a story only if Wasalu pointed out the injury himself.

"Sure, I'll come along," He said, flexing his smile slightly and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He wasn't about to say no. He'd never really end up saying no. Not to Wasalu, anyway. "And um, I was just wondering..." He trailed off in his sentence, though he tried to convince himself there was no reason he should still feel reserved about the occurrence. He didn't have to tell his friend about the injury, and his friend certainly wasn't about to say no to him either. But it was unlikely for anyone to deny Gawain assistance, what with the boy seeming so helpless. He took a moment, taking in deep breath before trying the statement over again, and hoping that he wouldn't stumble on any of the words. "I was just wondering if maybe, um -" there, it was too late to make it through the statement without a fumble. "- uh, if you could help me out? See, I was trying to get some equipment into my car and it was too heavy... I only got one into the car and I dropped another one and it broke."

He sighed, displeased at the butchering of the sentence. Asking for help was something just so difficult, even if he had to do it often. The fact that he was trying to hide part of the story certainly didn't make getting the words out any easier. It was just seen as normal from the perspective of others, of course. Poor little Gawain, not able to do much on his own, too nervous to make a full sentence, too shy to talk to anyone aside from his friends. Any place that was public wasn't exactly a comfort zone, anyway, and it really was only while he was just with his friends when he acted like a confident know-it-all. It wasn't so suspicious. He tried to tell himself that a few times. Nothing about his behavior was going to be seen as suspicious. Wasalu wasn't about to ask about his wrist or why he couldn't lift the equipment himself.

Gawain took a step closer to Wasalu before beginning to head the rest of the way to the parking lot again; whichever activity they did first, the rout would cross through the parking lot anyway.

"So," He began, just making small talk out of curiosity. If he kept the conversation going, there was less chance it would circle back around to something he didn't want to talk about. His hand stayed where he'd put it in his back pocket, away from his friend. "You're not going to soccer practice today? Do you need a ride home cause I could drive you, y'know, if you wanted." He shrugged. He supposed he'd take any excuse to spend more time with his friend, really, though this was easily a suggestion that could be said no to. Gawain's parents were off at their jobs again, as far apart from each other as they could get, and sometimes Gawain could swear he had almost too much downtime. It almost got too quiet without all the screaming, if that were even possible. And after all, now that he finally thought about it, it was going to be a long time before he actually managed to get the computers into his house after he finally got them in the car. Crap, he thought, finally coming to the realization.

No, he told himself. He could handle it by then. His wrist will have had a long break, he could do it. He'd be fine, at least, by then. But it was getting a bit too hard to convince himself of that anymore. But it wouldn't matter if he had to wait a few days or something, at least, eventually he figured he'd be able to handle it on his own.

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Character Portrait: Wasalu Armando Character Portrait: Michael Gawain Calvagh
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Wasalu smiled when Michael responded positively. He was going to ask Michael if he was being bullied again, but his friend seemed like he was doing okay at the time. So I overreacted. He thought. Not the first time. "Great!" He said, cheerily. "I was hoping you'd come along."

Wasalu was going to ask him why he was walking around the school, but Michael spoke up. "And um, I was just wondering..." Michael trailed off in his sentence, shifting his weight back and forth. It was obvious something was on his friend's mind, though Wasalu didn't pretend to know what it was. He always wanted to help Michael, so he was sure that if Michael wanted his help... he'd ask for it. But maybe it was hard for the quiet boy to ask for help? Wasalu had considered that before, but had shrugged it off. Michael knew Wasalu would always respond yes to his requests, most likely. "I was just wondering if maybe, um -- uh, if you could help me out? See, I was trying to get some equipment into my car and it was too heavy... I only got one into the car and I dropped another one and it broke." Then he sighed, seeming slightly... annoyed or displeased. Wasalu tipped his head slightly to one side, frowning when Michael did. Was something else wrong? He gave Michael a quick once over, but wasn't able to find anything right away.

Well... it doesn't matter. I mean, I'll find out eventually if something else is wrong. "Equipment?" Wasalu responded. Considering Michael's area of expertise, was he bringing computers to the car? He was probably taking them from the AV Club. Wait, is he stealing? Wasalu wondered, before a smile spread over his face. That's...adorable. Sometimes Michael did things that were absolutely normal, like stealing-- although considering the frail looking boy was in the AV Club, maybe he was taking defunct equipment-- and Wasalu would see his actions as cute. He supposed it was because Michael gave off the air of a rather well-behaved though meek kind of person, but would sometimes veer off course and do something Wasalu wasn't expecting from him. But to be completely honest, Wasalu thought Michael stealing computers was cute because he was positive all Michael had to do was ask and people would fall over themselves to give him what he wanted. If I had that power, I'd abuse it to no end, Wasalu thought. "Sure. C'mon, let's go get that stuff into your car first. Don't want anyone stealing it, right?" He chuckled. Michael moved closer to him before they started across the parking lot again.

Like normal, Michael started up a conversation. "So, you're not going to soccer practice today? Do you need a ride home cause I could drive you, y'know, if you wanted." He shrugged.

Wasalu frowned. "Nah, I didn't feel like going to practice. I was planning on ditching school today, but... Dante caught me leaving the house with my easel, so I ended up staying all day." With a heavy sigh, he shook his head. He really didn't want to think about school "Today's more of an art day," He decided, before flashing Michael a smile. He supposed any day he didn't feel like talking to most people was an art day. "But if we finish getting your stuff into your car and grabbing my sketch book before Diego reaches, sure, I'd like if you could give me a ride home. You can stay over for a while if you want." He offered. "...Although..." Wasalu paused, realizing that if Michael needed help putting the equipment into the car, he'd probably need help getting it out, too. "Do you need my help moving your stuff into your house? I don't mind giving you a hand if you need it."

They reached Michael's car quicker than Wasalu had expected, but there was a computer tower on the ground and one on a cart. The lower level of the cart had plastic bits on it. The one on the ground had cracks in it's plastic. "Huh. Is it okay, Gawain? I mean-- that computer, can you still use it?" He knelt down to determine how heavy the computer was. With the plastic cracked, it was a bit weird to hold, but he was able to lift it onto the cart next to the other tower. It was a bit heavier than a standard tower was-- his brothers both had desktops that were lighter than this one. "I mean, if you don't want to keep it, we can dump it." He crossed his arms, looking at the two computers. "Or I guess we could swap it for a working one when we go back inside. The outer part is removable, right? You just have to keep the cracked part and we just swap out the insides." Pausing, Wasalu looked at his smaller friend. "What do you think?"

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Character Portrait: Hope Hathaway Character Portrait: Diana Maroone
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Diana went and sat at her desk. She picked up a perfectly sharpened pencil and began to sketch Hope's outline. Hope dug into her packpage and pulled out her laptop and the USB for her camera and loaded the pictures of the horses onto it. Diana moved on to Hope's face. Diana was an extremely perceptive when it came to detail and she took almost ten minutes just to finish both eyes. It took her half an hour just to finish Hope's entire face. Hope studied the pictures and deleted the ones she didn't want. Both girls were quiet as they worked over what they did best.

"Do you have anything to eat?" Hope asked. Diana nodded. "Macaroni, T.V dinners, leftover pizza's and icecream. Take your pick" she said. Hope contemplated for a minute. "I guess pizza works" she replied. Diana stood up and left the garage. She went into her kitchen where her oldest brother; Chriss and his girlfriend Cheyanne sat making out on top of the island. They broke apart as Diana entered. "Hey Lesby" Chriss commented. Cheyanne threw her head back and laughed. "F off" Diana snapped. She opened the fridge and pulled out the pizza. "Thought I heard noises coming from the garage. One of your girlfriends over?" he asked teasingly. "Shut up Chriss!" Diana yelled. Cheyanne laughed again. "Laugh at this bitch" Diana snapped. She grabbed an apple and launched it her head. It hit her right in the jaw.

Diana then ran back to the garage. She wasn't exactly lesbian. Diana liked to think of herself as more bisexual. She preferred boys but happened to think some woman could be attractive too. She hadn't even told Chriss that. He just assumed because Diana never had a boyfriend. She wiped away the tears that had formed before entering the garage. Hope looked up. She had put away her laptop and was lying on her back starring at the ceiling. Diana gave her a slice of pizza and went back to her desk.

"I would have grabbed you a drink but my brother and his girlfriend were being jerks and I just wanted to get out of there" Diana told her. Hope nodded. "I heard what they said, Diana. Just ignore them. They have no idea what they are talking about" She said. Diana shrugged but didn't reply. She went back to her drawing and the two girls because silent again. "We should go find someone to hang out with" Hope chirped. She stood up and pulled Diana toward the garage door. Diana shrugged. "Alright fine. Whatever makes you happy" she replied sarcastically. Together the two girls walked up and down the streets looking for their other friends.

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Character Portrait: Wasalu Armando Character Portrait: Michael Gawain Calvagh
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"Nah, I didn't feel like going to practice. I was planning on ditching school today, but... Dante caught me leaving the house with my easel, so I ended up staying all day. Today's more of an art day," Wasalu had responded to the inquiry about soccer practice. "But if we finish getting your stuff into your car and grabbing my sketch book before Diego reaches, sure, I'd like if you could give me a ride home. You can stay over for a while if you want."

Gawain couldn't help but flex his smile a little wider at Wasalu's response. "Cool, sounds like a plan," He said, not bothering to hide how glad he was to get a little more time with his friend. Though, when he thought about it, the longer he spent around his friend, the sooner Wasalu would see Gawain's injury, and realize he'd been hiding it all this time. It wasn't a good set of circumstances, and Gawain tried his best to look for a place to throw in a made-up story about it before it was too late. After all, people weren't typically pleased when they find out someone was keeping information from them.

"...Although..." Wasalu added in, noticing that if Gawain was having trouble getting the computers into the car, he'd have trouble getting them out, too. "Do you need my help moving your stuff into your house? I don't mind giving you a hand if you need it."

Gawain bit his lip, shrugging. "Well, I don't think it needs to be done right away. It can wait till whenever." He pulled his hand from his pocket, ready to give an explanation that in a few days he'd be well enough to handle it on his own, but he let the moment slide, leaving his arm at his side, and tugging at his sleeve a little to be sure that the nasty wound remained covered instead. He beat himself up a little bit for not saying anything but... he just couldn't bring himself to mention it.

When they approached the car, Gawain split over towards the car while Wasalu went over to inspect the computer tower that Gawain had dropped on the ground.

"Huh. Is it okay, Gawain? I mean-- that computer, can you still use it?" He asked.

Gawain made his way over to driver's side door, unlocking it and popping the trunk so that Wasalu could get the computers into his car with the other one. Shutting the door and trailing over to Wasalu's side, he watched as the other boy lifted the broken computer up off of the ground and placed it on the AV cart with the other one, having no issues easily. Gawain really couldn't help but be jealous of his friend. When did Wasalu ever have to ask for help? Okay, well, reading, for one. And... homework for another. But how the hell should that matter? It wasn't like it was too important. Wasalu could still do plenty of other things, and better yet, he could do them on his own.

"I mean, if you don't want to keep it, we can dump it." Wasalu continued, breaking Gawain's train of thought. "Or I guess we could swap it for a working one when we go back inside. The outer part is removable, right? You just have to keep the cracked part and we just swap out the insides.... What do you think?"

Gawain bit his lip, hesitating a moment before just shrugging.

"It doesn't matter, I think," He said finally, trailing back over to the car and sitting down on the bumper. "Just throw it in here, i guess. I'll just take it as it is. I'm gonna take it apart anyway, y'know? If everything's shit then I guess that's what the other two are for. Who knows, there might still be something useful in there." He shrugged again, giving a small smile for almost no reason at all, other than feeling like it was an obligation to do so every so often. Maybe it would make the injury go away and he wouldn't have to worry about it anymore.

"Though, thinking about how I dropped it twice, I kind of doubt it," Gawain added. "Oh well."

He bit his lip, remembering his wound again. He could throw the information in now, get it out of the way. He took a deep breath, like the entire idea of mentioning it was going to be the most horrible thing in the world. He wasn't even sure how to start the statement, or how to tie it in with what he'd said before, or even explain why he hadn't mentioned it earlier. He supposed he could play it off like he'd ignored it for being no big deal or something.

"The thing is, actually, uh," He let the opening fade, realizing he was already fucking it up. "Well, the main reason i'm having trouble is cause I, uh..." He picked up his wrist and rolled the sleeve back, though he kept the injury mostly covered by his other hand still. Maybe if Wasalu couldn't see it, it would make the lie a little more believable. "I sort of tripped earlier when i was carrying some other equipment, and I... I landed on my wrist funny. So I'm just having even more trouble lifting these things today." He gave an uneasy laugh, almost to just add in I'm okay! It's not a big deal! by force. He really just wanted the topic to be left alone as soon as it was out with. It would be fine, he told himself. Wasalu wouldn't look into it any more. Though, It was difficult to convince himself of that.

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Character Portrait: Nathan Hartwell
1 sightings Nathan Hartwell played by Savader
"Is today the day...?"

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View All » Add Character » 12 Characters to follow in this universe

Character Portrait: Amy Roswell
Character Portrait: Hannah Greene
Character Portrait: Diana Maroone
Character Portrait: Wasalu Armando
Character Portrait: Michael Gawain Calvagh
Character Portrait: Jeremy Royce
Character Portrait: Victor Ansy
Character Portrait: Hope Hathaway

Newest

Character Portrait: Hope Hathaway
Hope Hathaway

Say Cheese!

Character Portrait: Victor Ansy
Victor Ansy

"Nono, I'd much rather hear some more about you, princess."

Character Portrait: Jeremy Royce
Jeremy Royce

"I know I have a big ego- I don't really see why it's such a big deal, though."

Character Portrait: Michael Gawain Calvagh
Michael Gawain Calvagh

"Trust me, I'm fine. I can handle myself sometimes."

Character Portrait: Wasalu Armando
Wasalu Armando

"Let's see...Here's the World, The Fool, The Devil, the Tower... Heh, looks like you'll be reborn."

Character Portrait: Diana Maroone
Diana Maroone

"I always get this weird feeling..'

Character Portrait: Hannah Greene
Hannah Greene

"Pick up your feet!"

Character Portrait: Amy Roswell
Amy Roswell

"Trust me, you do not want to know."

Trending

Character Portrait: Hannah Greene
Hannah Greene

"Pick up your feet!"

Character Portrait: Michael Gawain Calvagh
Michael Gawain Calvagh

"Trust me, I'm fine. I can handle myself sometimes."

Character Portrait: Diana Maroone
Diana Maroone

"I always get this weird feeling..'

Character Portrait: Victor Ansy
Victor Ansy

"Nono, I'd much rather hear some more about you, princess."

Character Portrait: Amy Roswell
Amy Roswell

"Trust me, you do not want to know."

Character Portrait: Jeremy Royce
Jeremy Royce

"I know I have a big ego- I don't really see why it's such a big deal, though."

Character Portrait: Hope Hathaway
Hope Hathaway

Say Cheese!

Character Portrait: Wasalu Armando
Wasalu Armando

"Let's see...Here's the World, The Fool, The Devil, the Tower... Heh, looks like you'll be reborn."

Most Followed

Character Portrait: Victor Ansy
Victor Ansy

"Nono, I'd much rather hear some more about you, princess."

Character Portrait: Michael Gawain Calvagh
Michael Gawain Calvagh

"Trust me, I'm fine. I can handle myself sometimes."

Character Portrait: Diana Maroone
Diana Maroone

"I always get this weird feeling..'

Character Portrait: Jeremy Royce
Jeremy Royce

"I know I have a big ego- I don't really see why it's such a big deal, though."

Character Portrait: Hannah Greene
Hannah Greene

"Pick up your feet!"

Character Portrait: Hope Hathaway
Hope Hathaway

Say Cheese!

Character Portrait: Wasalu Armando
Wasalu Armando

"Let's see...Here's the World, The Fool, The Devil, the Tower... Heh, looks like you'll be reborn."

Character Portrait: Amy Roswell
Amy Roswell

"Trust me, you do not want to know."


Fullscreen Chat » Create Topic » When We Die: Out of Character

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Most recent OOC posts in When We Die

Re: When We Die

yes, i have had some decent results when i place very simple characters slots. Which was what i did with my rp Assassination Game, and placed only code-names for people to choose and create a character that something to do with the name. I sort of got into the whole deal about outlining characters because i needed those kinds for a character balance. I dunno, i kinda tell people that the outlines are mostly a suggestion. And like my new one that didn't even make it out of the starting gate, the slots placed are more of a history. Its sort of a thing I do about my details being vague, but i made it so gender was an option for everyone to pick if they wanted to change it, and disposition can change the overall personality of the character as it was set in the outline.

just putting boy 1 makes it so vague who knows what would have been submitted? I've had such a problem with very detailed rps like this one getting characters that are unlikely to be in a situation... or just repeat types of characters. It depends on the type of storyline i'm writing what I end up putting for roles. Like, i did no set roles for Assassination Game and Borrowed Strength. it mostly depends whether the plot is a close group plot (something more specific) or a wider plot that can branch into sub-plots. sometimes theres a method to the madness, even if the madness doesn't work out, haha

The one I wanted to write was a gang rp. Which meant the only slots would be the coloured gangs and the leaders, and then lower ranking members would fill in the groups, and the rest of the gang members would end up being NPCs. but then the main restriction would be that a specific personality type would probably be related to each gang, because each coloured gang has an affiliated element. So like, fire = hot headed. y'know? I'm just not even sure i should bother with it though... Cause even my role-free rps fail after time v_v personally I absolutely LOVED Assassination Game, but everything i love dies /cry/

Re: When We Die

I honestly loved the sound of When We Die. There wasn't anything wrong with it, in my opinion. But if there was one thing I could think of, that might help your future RPs, Ashes, it would be for you to try not to tie people down with already mapped out characters... That was what LittleMissGeorgia apparently had an issue with. She said that she tried to write her character's sheet over and over again, but kept hitting roadblocks because of the outline you set for her character. It's MUCH easier for people to freely create their character from scratch, without having anything restricting them, and MUCH harder to create one based off of another person's outline.

I checked out that new RP of yours, and as for the ROLES, such as being a King or a Knight, I think that's fine. But determining their traits and their personality kiiiind of takes away the magic of creating a character for yourself... It sort of feels like you're just filling someone else's shoes, in a way. Even I had a little trouble with Nathan's character on this one... I struggled, but still managed to come up with someone as close to how YOU described he should be, as I could. However, if the role had simply been "Boy 1", with no other pre-determined outline for his character, I would have been able to create someone a lot more interesting.

And just so we're clear, I'm not attacking you or anything. I mean, I'm on your side. But if there was anything that I think you should change about how you run your RPs, that's the ONLY thing I can think of that would be an actual problem. If I were you, I'd make character slots very simple. For example, "Knight 1. Is King 1's knight.", period. Let the person who takes the slot, decide on the character's gender and personality, as well as their other traits. Trust me, it's not going to take away anything from the world you created, and the players will feel more like they actually DID something of their own volition. And in terms of relation to other characters, whether by blood or history, should be discussed between one player and another.

Freedom is everything when it comes to writing fiction, and when you take that away from character creation, it makes it hard to come up with something you can work with fluently. Being too restricted just takes a lot of the interest in one's character away, is all. Other than that, I have no clue as to why people wouldn't like your RPs... They're all pretty interesting, and well-written.

Re: When We Die

i dunno, maybe its just my rps or something. I always have this kind of problem and like... seriously? i've got a new rp plot i want to write but im hesitant because my rps keep going under. Maybe it's just me. Do i have an anti-people odor or something? /shrug/

sometimes i really wish my role plays would just be successful for once. but thanks for caring about it, Savader ^u^

Re: When We Die

I'd honestly really just wish people would stop being so fucking rude. It's truly annoying that people can just up and remove themselves from a group commitment like this, without any word on the matter. Pisses me off, actually. I'm still new to the whole group RP thing, but still, I think it's just dumb. Don't start something you're not sure you're gonna see through to the end. Especially when you barely even pick up your feet in the first place. This had a lot of potential towards being a great story, and now it's ruined simply because people don't wanna fucking respond to the host's messages. Honestly, what with all these new features hitting the Gateway, I'd like to see some sort of feedback feature. One that allows us to filter people who often quit on others like this. Because it's seriously messed up.

Anyway, my rant is over. Hope to see the very few people, who were actually committed to this RP, in the future, and I hope I NEVER see any of the ones who just up and gave up on it before it truly started. But I hope you ALL have a nice day. Later...

Re: When We Die

yeah, that happens a lot to me actuallly ;n;

i have another rp tho, not that anyone's interested???

(casually leaves link here in case anyone will see it, because im desperate for members roleplay/heartland-industries)

Re: When We Die

Well, this sure died rather quickly...

Re: When We Die

i've even got my post up /phew~/ so tomorrow im going to try and send out PMs to people who havent checked in and see who i can get to respond.

Re: When We Die

yeah~ gotta agree on that, you used the first person tense really well for the character 0w0

Re: When We Die

Ah, thanks, Gypsy. Happy it was okay. :D

Re: When We Die

Pretty good post Savader :)

Re: When We Die

There. I did the best I could with what I had. Hope it's to everyone's liking~

Re: When We Die

Goody, yeah, no worries~ ill have something up asap~ ^u^

Re: When We Die

xD I need a post from Michael to continue. Otherwise, I'm still here and caring!

Re: When We Die

I still care- I just didn't want to double post, and was waiting on a reply to Jeremy.

Re: When We Die

^^ hopefully we can bring this back before we have to pull the plug~ thnx guys

Re: When We Die

I'll start on a post then! :)

Re: When We Die

i mean, at this point i think the sooner posts get up, the better, regardless of order u_u after that, i'll do a re-tally of who is still going to participate, and see if the rest of the roles can either be filled or split among the people who still care. i'm open for taking at least one more. so... maybe we can get this rolling again :3

Re: When We Die

I honestly still care. Hell, I'm on this site every day, LOL. It really doesn't take much to just open up a tab and check out the sight on the side... Yet many people seem to be acting like it's too much of pain in the ass... *sigh* If this goes on, I'll just post Nathan's intro, and we can just go from there, if you like...

Re: When We Die

(Okay, I would do the innitiative but I don't know what else to post xD. Still here though :)

Re: When We Die

well, i guess its official that all care for this rp has gone flying out the window /cry/