YOU'RE STILL LIVING LIFE IN THE DARK — OPEN, JOINER

[font=century gothic][b][font=georgia]AND I KNEW THAT SOMEHOW I WOULD FIND MY WAY BACK
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-bottom: 0px; width: 480px; margin-top: -10px; font-family: verdana; line-height:85%; font-size: 9pt; text-align: justify;]Now, in her opinion, this one looked quite interesting.

Quietly slipping in and remaining along the fringes of the scene, the ghostly femme would narrow her lavender-hued gaze as she studied the unfamiliar male, a look of intrigue flitting over her timeless features. He didn't look interesting in the sense that he'd be fun to engage in a physical fight—on the contrary, his build suggested to her that his fighting skills would be mediocre at best when pitted against those who had a multitude of powers and abilities at their disposal, such as herself. However, that cleverly-veiled intelligence that she had managed to fish out from within the depths of his seemingly noncommittal gaze, coupled with the vague malice that she could just barely detect emanating from his figure...that certainly had to be an implication that there was more to him than the eyes could see. Perhaps his mental fortitude was higher than most, though at this point in time, there was no way for her to ascertain such a thing. So, for the time being, she would simply keep an eye on him and refrain from making any concrete judgments until she could get to know his character a little better.

However, then again, she wasn't sure if it would be wise of her to desire to know more about such things. Especially in this day and age, where she'd found that far too often an innocent face concealed a much more sinister nature. These days, it was almost as if insanity had become something that those around her seemed to crave; whether it was for attention or otherwise she didn't know, but it was quite unsettling, to say the least. As an individual who'd had such accusations flung at her on multiple occasions (though she had taken some fairly drastic measures in the past to achieve her goals, so she couldn't really consider their claims to be entirely baseless), Mako couldn't say she completely understood what it was like to be a 'normal' creature (did the word 'normal' even have any meaning or significance anymore?) in a sea of those whose brains were addled and tormented by dark thoughts, pasts, and intentions. So, perhaps some thought it to be odd for someone such as herself to fear insanity, to fear those whose hearts weren't made of gold. But you see...evil masterminds tended not to like those who possessed personalities too similar to their own. Rarely were there any exceptions to that, as far as she'd seen in the past couple centuries. And going by that...well, that was exactly why this boy's presence made her feel a bit uneasy. He reminded her of herself, and as much as she loved her own character...she knew she definitely wouldn't want to cross paths with someone with a persona identical to hers on any given occasion.
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oh my god the sinnamon roll is here to fuck senpai up isn't he ;A;
as soon as shit gets real im going to fuckign rUN cAN HARUNA CUT HIM I, ,,

"I smell trash," came the airy, lilting drawl of a certain, midnight-cloaked female, as she materialized out of the shadows and picked her way over to stand at her twin's side. A blank yet manic smile adorned her delicate lips as she trained her feverish gaze on the male that had just arrived to grace them with his revolting presence, which still to her seemed oddly refreshing in the simple sense that he came across to her as different. Despite the fact that he'd said and done virtually nothing as of yet, she'd found that she had taken a liking to him—not as an individual but as a character, if that made any sense. To have piqued her interest so quickly was quite the statement, honestly. Nowadays, she saw the vast majority of those around her in a boring light—especially those proclanners, ugh. Seriously, it was so irritating, to have to listen to them blab about all their stupid psychological problems and make such a huge deal out of the smallest things—like, anyone would've thought the world was ending. On the other side of the spectrum, a good number of those that resided in the exilers were quite the piece of work—they killed and killed and killed and killed...where the hell did it end? Violence was fun—one certainly wasn't to mistake her for just another one of those annoying do-gooders—but violence in excess just erased the excitement of it. If one were to commit acts of savagery twenty-four/seven, then that would become 'normal' for them, and once that happened then that became no fun. As much as she hated that Orihara Izaya fellow, his words were correct; that the only way to truly escape the mundane was for one to constantly be evolving. This world was one in which stagnancy equaled discontent and boredom. Truly, it seemed as though the world was really out to make them work hard for their happiness and run around until the day they all died, without allowing them so much as a single second to stop and rest. At that thought, the girl allowed herself the softest of chuckles, amusement ghosting across the surface of her unnervingly intense gaze. 'How very cruel, this reality is~!'

"W͎̿ī̩ē͉l̡̎d̦̒ ̯͗m̳̌e̱͛;̪̓ ̭̍ì͔f̙̎ ͓̂y̯̋o̤̍ṳ͑ ͍̕ȟ̦a̱͘v̥̾ẽ̘ ̧͗d̜̽ę̐c̱͝ĭ̯d̩̂e̼̽ḏ̋ ͇̒t̰̚o̺̾ ̯͑h̜͠a̩͂t͓̕e͍͂ ̤̀h͇̾i͚̎m̻̉,̦̐ ͛ͅt͕̀h̗͘e̺̒ǹ͔ ̭͠I̼̕ ̂ͅș͐ḫ̀ǎ̭l̜͠l̖͒ ̯̾l͙͌ỏ̼v̮́e͍͑ ̨͂h̳̏i͈̊m̊͜ ̝̄i̝̋ń͇ ̡̐y͉͝ǫ̿u̢̾r̨͝ ͂͜s̞͐ṫ̞e̻͘a̖͛ḋ̫.̖͊.̙͌.̝̇!̺̅"

As the familiar voice filled her ears and invaded her head once again, the femme would simply continue to smile that eerily empty smile of hers, allowing no one any indication of the fact that anything was wrong with her. No...there was nothing wrong. After all, Saika was hers—hers to use, hers to exploit, hers to control—not the other way around. Haha, as if that would ever come to pass, anyway! She was a Baskerville, for goodness' sake—she was a Chain, one of the most powerful ones in existence, one of the firstborns of Lacie Baskerville. As if she'd allow some random demon she'd picked up on the side of a road to possess her fully; what a joke, what a laugh.

'Ah, perhaps I shall consider it,' Haruna mused, idly swishing her tail back and forth along the frost-coated ground as she momentarily assumed a thoughtful expression. 'Not today, but perhaps tomorrow, or the day after that~!' She liked him, and she wasn't one to deny such a thing. He was interesting, and she wanted him; she wanted him, she wanted him for herself—all of him, his body, his thoughts, his secrets—e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g. Of course, at this moment in time, little did she know that her feverish, irrational thoughts were the result of her mind and body trying to cope with harbouring both the fragment of a demon of love and one of the more volatile and dangerous Eye Stigmas known to the Baskerville race. For now...as far as she was concerned, she was the one in control, and all her thoughts were still her own. Never before had she been denied anything she wanted, and she was not about to let there be an exception now.

jesus christ im having too much fun with this gomen
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