Post by SECRET ROSE on Jul 26, 2010 9:30:59 GMT -5
Brooke scowled at his fingernails, they’d been painted black and filed to points for the past three weeks, but he was starting to rethink the filing thing after he’d pierced a few pages of his book. The frustrations were just expanding as he grew older. Brooke snuggled deeper into his trenchcoat, the one that hid his male side so well. Was that really wanted? At least it got guys to look at him twice, but it wasn’t like any of them stuck around once he’d removed the coat. No one in this school was like him. Just because he was a Chamerance kid, they avoided him. Or maybe it was the true rumors going around about ‘the girl in the trenchcoat,’ she’s a murderer, she’s a guy, she’s mentally unstable. Brooke had scoffed when he’d first heard them. And then it had gotten old. Then it got painful. He was just too different. Maybe he could track it back to his last life, blame it on his mother, or her profession. But that would just be running away.
Brooke turned his glare from his fingernails to the world around him, the girls gawking at him from the pathway. He looked away, crimson eyes closed in an apology that was something like ‘no, I can’t be your friend, and if you know I’m a guy and that’s why you’re looking at me…’ Brooke shook his head, wishing he could speak to them, but realizing they were probably scared of him. He kept himself from crying, there would be time for that later.
The violet-haired boy rummaged in his pocket, finding the little black mp3 player and inserting the matching earbuds into his ears. In his ears blared the opening line to a song he hated; ‘Emo is just an excuse for boys to act like girls.’ He skipped it and happily settled down even deeper in his coat. “I am an arms dealer fitting with weapons in the form of words,” the boy sang along, oblivious of the extreme beauty that was in his lightly-accented voice. He’d never listened to himself sing, never knew he had any talent for anything not remotely girly or stabby. Brooke rid himself of the need to sing along, and yawned, stretching upward. The sleeves of his coat came down and those scars pulled his eyes toward them. Scars from endless hours of metal shackles cutting into his skin. Brooke shuddered at the thought and pulled his sleeves up his arms once more.
Augh… the frustration. Anything would help… anything. He fiddled around with his coat pockets. The trenchcoat was freakishly heavy for all the things he carried in it, but Brooke wore it easily for the experience he’d had carrying it. Finally, he found the thing he’d been looking for. The little flask was decorated with a design obviously done by a ponderous person with not much to do besides stair at metal objects and find carving materials.
Brooke opened the flask and tipped it skyward, only to discover it empty. A scowl disgraced his features, as he shook the metal thing. The boy stuffed it back in a pocket, shaking his head again and looking for some sort of distraction… anything at all. Even the music was driving him insane as just another angsty annoyance. He ripped the earbuds out of his ears and growled low in his throat.
Brooke tossed everything into his pockets, standing and whisking away from the path and deeper into the woods. The pair of girls who had been looking at him made as if to follow him, but he shot them an apologetic stare that obviously told them they should stay behind. The taller one nodded, and they both stopped and stilled as Brooke disappeared into the trees. A sigh escaped his lips as he slipped into the cool shade and settled down against a tree. The boy sat under a tree, pulling a copy of ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’ from his pocket and flipping to page ten. He began to read, unaware of any student in the woods around him.
Brooke turned his glare from his fingernails to the world around him, the girls gawking at him from the pathway. He looked away, crimson eyes closed in an apology that was something like ‘no, I can’t be your friend, and if you know I’m a guy and that’s why you’re looking at me…’ Brooke shook his head, wishing he could speak to them, but realizing they were probably scared of him. He kept himself from crying, there would be time for that later.
The violet-haired boy rummaged in his pocket, finding the little black mp3 player and inserting the matching earbuds into his ears. In his ears blared the opening line to a song he hated; ‘Emo is just an excuse for boys to act like girls.’ He skipped it and happily settled down even deeper in his coat. “I am an arms dealer fitting with weapons in the form of words,” the boy sang along, oblivious of the extreme beauty that was in his lightly-accented voice. He’d never listened to himself sing, never knew he had any talent for anything not remotely girly or stabby. Brooke rid himself of the need to sing along, and yawned, stretching upward. The sleeves of his coat came down and those scars pulled his eyes toward them. Scars from endless hours of metal shackles cutting into his skin. Brooke shuddered at the thought and pulled his sleeves up his arms once more.
Augh… the frustration. Anything would help… anything. He fiddled around with his coat pockets. The trenchcoat was freakishly heavy for all the things he carried in it, but Brooke wore it easily for the experience he’d had carrying it. Finally, he found the thing he’d been looking for. The little flask was decorated with a design obviously done by a ponderous person with not much to do besides stair at metal objects and find carving materials.
Brooke opened the flask and tipped it skyward, only to discover it empty. A scowl disgraced his features, as he shook the metal thing. The boy stuffed it back in a pocket, shaking his head again and looking for some sort of distraction… anything at all. Even the music was driving him insane as just another angsty annoyance. He ripped the earbuds out of his ears and growled low in his throat.
Brooke tossed everything into his pockets, standing and whisking away from the path and deeper into the woods. The pair of girls who had been looking at him made as if to follow him, but he shot them an apologetic stare that obviously told them they should stay behind. The taller one nodded, and they both stopped and stilled as Brooke disappeared into the trees. A sigh escaped his lips as he slipped into the cool shade and settled down against a tree. The boy sat under a tree, pulling a copy of ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’ from his pocket and flipping to page ten. He began to read, unaware of any student in the woods around him.
