Muchas Gracias to Remnants-2011. I saw that I had reviews and I yelped
while I was at work, bringing some of my co-workers to stare at me funny.
Cookies and Wild Cherry Coke for you.
The offer still stands. But maybe I'll change it from cookies to cake? How does that sound?
I wanted to wait to post but my muse attacked me and so here I am, posting again some 12 hours later.
Yet again, I own nothing. So don't sue me. Though I do own Lippoli and Ronin. But you don't know them yet. Hang tight, they're coming.
As always, R&R, B&B, and the sort.
Enjoy! -Tigereyes *^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ *^*^*^*^*^*^*
At the same time in Tucson, a boy the same age was sitting on the edge of a cliff overlooking a small river in the valley below. It wasn't a tall cliff, more of a steep ravine. He enjoyed sitting there and watching the water, make it change directions, and make little figures out of it. He brushed a lock of his red hair out of his face. His hair had a life of its own, it was mostly spiky and unruly. The red dust clung to his baggy jeans and his evergreen T-shirt was damp with sweat and streaked with dust and mud.
He sat back, resting his weight on his hands behind him. His mind wandered through his memories. A lone tear fell from his left eye, making the warm violet color magnified and the deep facets of amber shine. His foster family disowned him when they found that he was a mutant.
Get out Lippoli! I never want to see your accursed face in this town again. If you ever come again, I won't hesitate to kill you. This I swear on your dead parents' graves.
The words that his foster father spoke still hurt. After that fateful day, he vowed to forget them, vowed to remain emotionless, to be cold hearted. He failed to notice that the water below was boiling. His emotions that he refused to show were mirrored in the way the water acted. It wasn't until he felt the steam of the drying riverbed on his bare feet that he noticed the way the water was acting. He took a deep breath and calmed himself. He rose and slipped on his worn black Etnies. He was still angry and stormed angrily past some wiry skeletons of trees. The still held their spines and a few dead leaves. Unknowing or uncaring that they scratched his face, two long intersecting cuts formed a crooked cross, similar to the boy in the Bronx.
Lippoli cursed and wiped the blood from his face. He yelled and kicked the tree down. The memories of his foster family wouldn't leave him and he beat the poor tree into toothpicks. He couldn't get the image out of his mind of his foster mother, whom he loved very much, crying and his foster father, whom he shared the love of ancient samurai ways with, hit him and drive him away.
His rage grew unchecked. The warm purple of his eyes faded and the yellow facets began to grow and glow. He continued to walk, now with a decided direction and purpose. It wasn't a long walk until he came to an overhang that shielded a small town below from the harsh winds that sometimes blew in from the desert.
Sensing around him, he called upon every source of water for miles around. At first, it came as a small puddle but it steadily grew until a massive wave towered behind him. He stood emotionless above the town as the inhabitants came out to see the spectacle. No one recognized him, but fear grew in each of the town's inhabitants as the wave stopped growing but parted around Lippoli.
With a smile and a twitch of an eyebrow, the ginormous wave barreled down the overhang and into the town, wiping out everything in its path. Lippoli watched the devastation with no emotion on his face and his eyes hard like topaz gems.
"Serves them right," he muttered under his breath as the last house was knocked from its foundations and carried away with the current.
Lippoli turned and walked the opposite direction. His eyes still had the hard amber look in them and he walked determinedly east. He had no rhyme or reason for it but he felt an invisible force calling him east. So he followed its beckon call, stealing a motorcycle from a gas station along the way.
He sped 120 miles an hour down the practically deserted highway through every weather imaginable. Sleet stung his face and rain pelted him. None of it affected his pace. His resolve was hardened as he drew farther east. Small towns and large towns alike of New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Tennessee, Kentucky, West Virginia, and Pennsylvania flew past him. It was all a blur to him. He rode the bike into the ground. When the first ran out of gas, he stole a new one. And so it came to pass that he was a wanted felon in several states. He didn't stop for anything. He lost count of the accidents he caused blowing through stoplights and stop signs.
The strange thing was, Ronin, the boy in the Bronx, was moving from his stomping grounds into West Chester by the same force.
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^**^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^* ^*^*^*^*^*^*^
Oh! They're going to West Chester. Who do you think is there? Oh my little felons, I love you!
REVIEW! Remember- there's cake and yummy things involved. Ronin: You liar. Lippoli: Yeah, where's our cookies and Pepsi? We're in this stupid thing. Tigereyes: heh heh heh. Well guys, you have to do more for you to get anything.
The offer still stands. But maybe I'll change it from cookies to cake? How does that sound?
I wanted to wait to post but my muse attacked me and so here I am, posting again some 12 hours later.
Yet again, I own nothing. So don't sue me. Though I do own Lippoli and Ronin. But you don't know them yet. Hang tight, they're coming.
As always, R&R, B&B, and the sort.
Enjoy! -Tigereyes *^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^ *^*^*^*^*^*^*
At the same time in Tucson, a boy the same age was sitting on the edge of a cliff overlooking a small river in the valley below. It wasn't a tall cliff, more of a steep ravine. He enjoyed sitting there and watching the water, make it change directions, and make little figures out of it. He brushed a lock of his red hair out of his face. His hair had a life of its own, it was mostly spiky and unruly. The red dust clung to his baggy jeans and his evergreen T-shirt was damp with sweat and streaked with dust and mud.
He sat back, resting his weight on his hands behind him. His mind wandered through his memories. A lone tear fell from his left eye, making the warm violet color magnified and the deep facets of amber shine. His foster family disowned him when they found that he was a mutant.
Get out Lippoli! I never want to see your accursed face in this town again. If you ever come again, I won't hesitate to kill you. This I swear on your dead parents' graves.
The words that his foster father spoke still hurt. After that fateful day, he vowed to forget them, vowed to remain emotionless, to be cold hearted. He failed to notice that the water below was boiling. His emotions that he refused to show were mirrored in the way the water acted. It wasn't until he felt the steam of the drying riverbed on his bare feet that he noticed the way the water was acting. He took a deep breath and calmed himself. He rose and slipped on his worn black Etnies. He was still angry and stormed angrily past some wiry skeletons of trees. The still held their spines and a few dead leaves. Unknowing or uncaring that they scratched his face, two long intersecting cuts formed a crooked cross, similar to the boy in the Bronx.
Lippoli cursed and wiped the blood from his face. He yelled and kicked the tree down. The memories of his foster family wouldn't leave him and he beat the poor tree into toothpicks. He couldn't get the image out of his mind of his foster mother, whom he loved very much, crying and his foster father, whom he shared the love of ancient samurai ways with, hit him and drive him away.
His rage grew unchecked. The warm purple of his eyes faded and the yellow facets began to grow and glow. He continued to walk, now with a decided direction and purpose. It wasn't a long walk until he came to an overhang that shielded a small town below from the harsh winds that sometimes blew in from the desert.
Sensing around him, he called upon every source of water for miles around. At first, it came as a small puddle but it steadily grew until a massive wave towered behind him. He stood emotionless above the town as the inhabitants came out to see the spectacle. No one recognized him, but fear grew in each of the town's inhabitants as the wave stopped growing but parted around Lippoli.
With a smile and a twitch of an eyebrow, the ginormous wave barreled down the overhang and into the town, wiping out everything in its path. Lippoli watched the devastation with no emotion on his face and his eyes hard like topaz gems.
"Serves them right," he muttered under his breath as the last house was knocked from its foundations and carried away with the current.
Lippoli turned and walked the opposite direction. His eyes still had the hard amber look in them and he walked determinedly east. He had no rhyme or reason for it but he felt an invisible force calling him east. So he followed its beckon call, stealing a motorcycle from a gas station along the way.
He sped 120 miles an hour down the practically deserted highway through every weather imaginable. Sleet stung his face and rain pelted him. None of it affected his pace. His resolve was hardened as he drew farther east. Small towns and large towns alike of New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Tennessee, Kentucky, West Virginia, and Pennsylvania flew past him. It was all a blur to him. He rode the bike into the ground. When the first ran out of gas, he stole a new one. And so it came to pass that he was a wanted felon in several states. He didn't stop for anything. He lost count of the accidents he caused blowing through stoplights and stop signs.
The strange thing was, Ronin, the boy in the Bronx, was moving from his stomping grounds into West Chester by the same force.
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^**^**^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^* ^*^*^*^*^*^*^
Oh! They're going to West Chester. Who do you think is there? Oh my little felons, I love you!
REVIEW! Remember- there's cake and yummy things involved. Ronin: You liar. Lippoli: Yeah, where's our cookies and Pepsi? We're in this stupid thing. Tigereyes: heh heh heh. Well guys, you have to do more for you to get anything.