Numbuh five: angst?
Jysella: eh, well I'm bored, what can I say?
Numbuh four: how about finishing nameless
Jysella: writers block
All KND: ::fall anime style::
Jysella: it's a valid excuse
Numbuh five: but, angst?
Jysella: cool it or I'll make it a song fic too, delusions take it away
Audience of delusions: Jysella owns nothing and is merely writing this to avoid a lab
Jysella: so don't-
Numbuh five: angst?
Jysella: that's it; it's a song fic
Audience of delusions: as already mentioned Jysella owns nothing-
Jysella: but she would like to, as her birthday is a week away
Numbuh four: stop begging
Audience of delusion: -so don't sue
Every time
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*
He opened his eyes, blinking back the light he had left on the previous night, and sat up, automatically brushing a hand through his shaggy hair. Beside him, on a rickety wooden table, his alarm screamed profanities in his ear; a valiant attempt to wake him up. Groggily he turned bright green orbs towards the singular source of noise in his Spartan room, the demonic device that had shaken a dream he'd have liked to keep, and checked the time.
"Shit"
He screamed aloud, hoarse voice echoing about the empty expanse of space, which he called his room. The device had, apparently, failed its purpose, screaming its song an hour later than the boy had wanted to awaken. He rose to his feet, subconsciously adjusting boxers, and left the pillow upon which he slept; a mere buffer between him and the floor. It toughened him up, so he told his teammates, made him stronger
~~~Angry boy, a bit to insane~~~
Grabbing a towel, threadbare from overuse, he walked towards the bathroom in hopes of a shower; at the very least his clothes were there. At the very least he could dress, as per usual, in the baggy jeans and orange hoodie that set him apart from his team.
~~~Icing over a secret pain~~
He groaned when his bare feet hit the bathrooms cool tiles, the echo reverberating around the shallow room, raising a symphony of pain in his mind. He dropped his towel over a cold metallic bar in front of the shower, its gleaming surface taunting him, mocking his lack of purpose. They all had strong points, the five of them, all but him. He was nothing, he the tough guy.
~~~You know you don't belong~~~
The cold-water ran down his forehead in icy rivulets, creating dirty puddles at his feet. He grit his teeth in face of the temperature, hands forming fists to fight it, but he didn't change it. No, learning to deal made him stronger, so he told his friends, indulgence bred weakness. He grabbed a bar of soap, one that was not recommended for those with sensitive skin or children, and scrubbed his body, squinting against the sting, ignoring the pain for sake of strength.
~You're the first to fight~~
He rinsed himself quickly, left the shower and, failing to notice the cool temperature of the tiles that had previously caused him discomfort, reached a shivering arm towards a towel that would provide no help. Its fibers scratched his frozen skin, enough to draw blood in several areas but he didn't care. After all if he couldn't abide his own blood what good was he in a fight? What good was he anywhere else?
~~You're way too loud~~
He dressed silently in the clothes he wore everyday without fail and left the tiled prison to return to his spacious one. He glanced furtively at the clock before beginning a rigorous routine he had created. One punch, kick, dodge, roll, it was a rhythm he knew far to well, much like his days, much like his life. Pain builds up endurance; he them when they asked, pain only provides distraction.
~~You're the flash of light on a burial shroud~~
Down the hall from his, a short distance a way, a young girl awoke in a room filled with the toys of one much younger than she. She ran a hand through her long, tangled, raven hair and sat up, listening to the rhythmic pounding from her neighbor's room. Of course she knew he'd be doing that, practicing, he did that every morning before any of the others were awake, preferring the early morning to a shared practice.
~~And I, I know something's wrong~~
Done with his warm up routine he began punching a course, sand filled, burlap bag. His knuckles rubbed raw from the performance but he never stopped, couldn't stop. If his purpose was only to fight then he wouldn't let them down.
~Everyone has to face down the demons, maybe today, you can put the past away~
The girl looked at a small clock beside her bed and yawned. It was time to wake up, and she had only just fallen asleep. She reached to the table beside her bed, a wooden object highlighted in green, and knocked over a smooth pill bottle that rattled to the floor.
"Damn" she cursed silently, leaving the comfort of her bed to retrieve it.
She dug under her bed in search of the small bottle, after dressing in a large green sweatshirt and black pants, coughing back dust she displaced in her search. Upon finding it she emptied two pills into her palm and, without pausing to contemplate the strange ritual, left her room with a glass of water from her table.
"Numbuh four," she called down the hall, "they'll be up soon."
Ceasing his punching the boy crossed his room to open the door; his raw knuckles drawing bloody streaks across the simple frame.
"Thanks Numbuh three" he stated hoarsely taking the pills and water from her. She smiled and returned to her room.
"Every time Numbuh four, every time" she stated lightly, and the blonde went back to his work out.
~~~I wish you would step back from that ledge my friend. You could, cut ties with all the lies that you've been living in. And, if you do not want to see me again I would understand. I would understand. I would understand~~
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Jysella: well that was it. I'm done.
Numbuh five: that was angsty,
Jysella: and it was a song fic, my first
Numbuh four: but why'd it have to be about me
Jysella: because you have a cool accent
Numbuh four: oh
Jysella: at any rate tall me what you think, if anyone can name the song and the band I'll.
Numbuh four: you'll what?
Jysella: I'm thinking
Numbuh one: she'll dedicate a chapter of nameless to you
Jysella: I will?
Numbuh one: yes
Jysella: oh, and if you really like this I'll write another chapter, maybe, I guess,
Numbuh three: yay! More writing!
Jysella: ah audience takes it away
Audience of delusions: read and review please!
Jysella: eh, well I'm bored, what can I say?
Numbuh four: how about finishing nameless
Jysella: writers block
All KND: ::fall anime style::
Jysella: it's a valid excuse
Numbuh five: but, angst?
Jysella: cool it or I'll make it a song fic too, delusions take it away
Audience of delusions: Jysella owns nothing and is merely writing this to avoid a lab
Jysella: so don't-
Numbuh five: angst?
Jysella: that's it; it's a song fic
Audience of delusions: as already mentioned Jysella owns nothing-
Jysella: but she would like to, as her birthday is a week away
Numbuh four: stop begging
Audience of delusion: -so don't sue
Every time
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*
He opened his eyes, blinking back the light he had left on the previous night, and sat up, automatically brushing a hand through his shaggy hair. Beside him, on a rickety wooden table, his alarm screamed profanities in his ear; a valiant attempt to wake him up. Groggily he turned bright green orbs towards the singular source of noise in his Spartan room, the demonic device that had shaken a dream he'd have liked to keep, and checked the time.
"Shit"
He screamed aloud, hoarse voice echoing about the empty expanse of space, which he called his room. The device had, apparently, failed its purpose, screaming its song an hour later than the boy had wanted to awaken. He rose to his feet, subconsciously adjusting boxers, and left the pillow upon which he slept; a mere buffer between him and the floor. It toughened him up, so he told his teammates, made him stronger
~~~Angry boy, a bit to insane~~~
Grabbing a towel, threadbare from overuse, he walked towards the bathroom in hopes of a shower; at the very least his clothes were there. At the very least he could dress, as per usual, in the baggy jeans and orange hoodie that set him apart from his team.
~~~Icing over a secret pain~~
He groaned when his bare feet hit the bathrooms cool tiles, the echo reverberating around the shallow room, raising a symphony of pain in his mind. He dropped his towel over a cold metallic bar in front of the shower, its gleaming surface taunting him, mocking his lack of purpose. They all had strong points, the five of them, all but him. He was nothing, he the tough guy.
~~~You know you don't belong~~~
The cold-water ran down his forehead in icy rivulets, creating dirty puddles at his feet. He grit his teeth in face of the temperature, hands forming fists to fight it, but he didn't change it. No, learning to deal made him stronger, so he told his friends, indulgence bred weakness. He grabbed a bar of soap, one that was not recommended for those with sensitive skin or children, and scrubbed his body, squinting against the sting, ignoring the pain for sake of strength.
~You're the first to fight~~
He rinsed himself quickly, left the shower and, failing to notice the cool temperature of the tiles that had previously caused him discomfort, reached a shivering arm towards a towel that would provide no help. Its fibers scratched his frozen skin, enough to draw blood in several areas but he didn't care. After all if he couldn't abide his own blood what good was he in a fight? What good was he anywhere else?
~~You're way too loud~~
He dressed silently in the clothes he wore everyday without fail and left the tiled prison to return to his spacious one. He glanced furtively at the clock before beginning a rigorous routine he had created. One punch, kick, dodge, roll, it was a rhythm he knew far to well, much like his days, much like his life. Pain builds up endurance; he them when they asked, pain only provides distraction.
~~You're the flash of light on a burial shroud~~
Down the hall from his, a short distance a way, a young girl awoke in a room filled with the toys of one much younger than she. She ran a hand through her long, tangled, raven hair and sat up, listening to the rhythmic pounding from her neighbor's room. Of course she knew he'd be doing that, practicing, he did that every morning before any of the others were awake, preferring the early morning to a shared practice.
~~And I, I know something's wrong~~
Done with his warm up routine he began punching a course, sand filled, burlap bag. His knuckles rubbed raw from the performance but he never stopped, couldn't stop. If his purpose was only to fight then he wouldn't let them down.
~Everyone has to face down the demons, maybe today, you can put the past away~
The girl looked at a small clock beside her bed and yawned. It was time to wake up, and she had only just fallen asleep. She reached to the table beside her bed, a wooden object highlighted in green, and knocked over a smooth pill bottle that rattled to the floor.
"Damn" she cursed silently, leaving the comfort of her bed to retrieve it.
She dug under her bed in search of the small bottle, after dressing in a large green sweatshirt and black pants, coughing back dust she displaced in her search. Upon finding it she emptied two pills into her palm and, without pausing to contemplate the strange ritual, left her room with a glass of water from her table.
"Numbuh four," she called down the hall, "they'll be up soon."
Ceasing his punching the boy crossed his room to open the door; his raw knuckles drawing bloody streaks across the simple frame.
"Thanks Numbuh three" he stated hoarsely taking the pills and water from her. She smiled and returned to her room.
"Every time Numbuh four, every time" she stated lightly, and the blonde went back to his work out.
~~~I wish you would step back from that ledge my friend. You could, cut ties with all the lies that you've been living in. And, if you do not want to see me again I would understand. I would understand. I would understand~~
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Jysella: well that was it. I'm done.
Numbuh five: that was angsty,
Jysella: and it was a song fic, my first
Numbuh four: but why'd it have to be about me
Jysella: because you have a cool accent
Numbuh four: oh
Jysella: at any rate tall me what you think, if anyone can name the song and the band I'll.
Numbuh four: you'll what?
Jysella: I'm thinking
Numbuh one: she'll dedicate a chapter of nameless to you
Jysella: I will?
Numbuh one: yes
Jysella: oh, and if you really like this I'll write another chapter, maybe, I guess,
Numbuh three: yay! More writing!
Jysella: ah audience takes it away
Audience of delusions: read and review please!