Posts by Devereaux

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  • ωє ωєяє ѕυρρσѕє∂ тσ мαкє ιт.. {ѕιgи υρѕ, ѕємι ℓιт}

    Hmmm, I'm actually starting to have second thoughts about takings the adventurous... Could i reserve the bad boy instead? Aldo, would I be allowed to change the face claim? (With your approval, of course. Sorry I'm asking so many questions xD)


    Crap. You kinda mentioned the face claim thing on the front page, didn't you...
    Well I was thinking of using Jim Sturgess as a FC, if you could approve of that or not?

  • ωє ωєяє ѕυρρσѕє∂ тσ мαкє ιт.. {ѕιgи υρѕ, ѕємι ℓιт}

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  • yes, space pirates -- private c:



    I have always been a very methodical man. Organization, structure, and plans. Plans are my life. And on this particularly uninspiring evening (or maybe it was afternoon. you can never quite tell the time of day when you have nothing but the cosmos to consult), I had managed to work myself all the way down to Plan G. Plan G was by far not one of my most favorited strategies for situations like this, but seeing as how the guard to my lowly little prison cell was not some foolish youth nor woman to seduce, but a fat, old half-drunken mass of a man, I was left with limited options. Plus, it had been a while since I'd worked on my vocals.


    "...I can't remember if I cried
    When I read about his widowed bride..,
    But something touched me- deep inside..."


    I rest my fist on my chest and shake my head at the sullen words as they roll over my lips. I'm not quite sure where this whole depressing pretense I'm sporting came from, nor where in the universe I'd once heard this ridiculous tune, but I embrace it, nonetheless. I decide then to close my eyes for effect, as well. If I wasn't singing, I would have considered slipping in a melancholy sigh.


    "...The day......"


    I turn and look up at the starry sky through what I can only assume must be a window; a pathetic little hole bore into the wall. I toss a woeful gesture up to it.


    "The music... died........"


    I drop my hand, and like the past twelve choruses, I holler this one out with an obnoxious wail.


    "So bye-bye, Miss American Pie! Drove my-"


    The can is hurled at the side of the cage with a violent clang before I can finish the chorus. And at the same time, the loathsome old lump of a guard roars for me to 'shut up, you bloody sh*t-licker!' I gratefully stop singing and try to hide my subtle satisfaction. My gray-green eyes flash at the old fart and pierce through every pathetic little inch of space and matter he isn't worth. I strike him with my best smirk; coy, confident, and with years of hard practice behind it. I can only imagine how unsettling I must look to him-- A mangy boy, no older than nineteen or so, who has been locked up and treated like a rat for nearly a week, (i won't deny it, though. this was all probably pretty well-deserved by me in the long run, especially after my little stunt i pulled. but that's a whole other story...), given meager food, murky water, practically sitting in his own sh*t, and yet still has enough dazzling spirit left to slap him with a 'f*ck you' glare.


    I almost feel inclined to laugh.
    He must think I'm insane.
    It wouldn't be the first time...


    "Almost there" I encourage cheerfully in response to the man's crude grumble which sounds like it would fit better belonging to a dying whale than a human. "You gotta make it a little more throaty, you know? To hit those E notes you've really got to come from down low..." I rub the base of my neck and force a look of concentration before letting let loose a chain of randomly sung notes as if I was some sort of musical master, keen on passing my enlightened sense onto my good apprentice.


    Well my student didn't appreciate this very much, and it wasn't even a second after commencing my hysterics did the man jump up from his seat and lunge for my cage.


    Yes.... Finally...


    The keys that dangle from the brutes's massive belt clang together as he rushes up toward me. I don't want to make it obvious of my intentions, so instead of the keys, I lock my gaze on those dull brown eyes. Big mistake. The oaf is thick, but he's not completely stupid. He must have seen some trace of overconfidence in my expression, for he froze himself, slipped a wry smile of contempt, and with a superior chuckle, lumbered back down to sitting on his little wooden stool.


    Damn.


    I replay the scene again in my mind after it unfolds before me-- the lazy lug returns back to his ruminating state with the glass spirit in his grasp as the ship carrying us both (what was it? the isabela?) sails on-- and amidst it all I am stifled by an odd feeling. What just happened there? At first I'm perplexed by myself for my own inability. Did I just make a mistake? Did I let my emotions slip? I should have known better. I am better. I frantically search the old brutes's lumpy face for answers to my questions, but not at all to my surprise, receive none. Both my hands are gripping the cold bars of the cage now, and I sense their coolness flood through me, only to be boiled down like everything else. I can hear my blood pulsing, which is new, and feel my face grow hot with- ... Anger? No. Not anger. I don't get angry. At least I would never consider myself to be in an infuriated sort of state. This is more so...... inspired.


    I quickly scan the shanty little room around me in search for some means to escape. Maybe my newfound 'inspiration' will help me. Or maybe I just need to get my head on straight and finally find a way to get to of this hell-hole. That's it. That's what I'm looking for. My Plan H.



    [size=9pt]ooc: i think i've just created a psychopath...[/size]

  • yes, space pirates -- private c:

    [align=center]


    As if her spoken words were the tip of a needle jabbing into my side, I spin my head and flash my eyes accusingly at the source of the voice. Ah, yes, I wasn't alone in here after all... Adjacent from me, in a cage just as dreary and scummy as my own, dwelled a skinny little female. Without hesitation, I stare the scrawny blonde down as a lion would a field mouse, because that is all she's really worth to me. I haven't a choice but to wait impatiently for her to stop her speaking. Her voice irritates me. It's dripping with a coy, confident guile, which is undoubtedly an attempt for persuasion. Persuading that I might join her in some grand escape. An ally- That's it. That's what she wanted of me. That's probably what she expected.


    It's almost cute, I think to myself, how she so proudly assumes that our similar circumstances must automatically make us on the same side of battle. The enemy of my enemy is supposed to be my friend, right? Wrong. My little inmate will soon find out that I'm not looking for a partnership. I don't want it. Friends? I don't make friends. Hell, I don't even make enemies. People make an enemy of me. I am the enemy.


    By the time the dame has stopped her short jabber, (all the while, I've sized her up and established a pretty well-thought out opinion) I have enough of a chance to slip on my own wry grin to mirror hers. Two can play at this game; Then again, this probably isn't much of a game to her. Everything's a game for me, and boy was I ready to play.


    "I think you're crazy" I tell her.


    Oh, the irony.


    I send her a short glance of sympathy, making it like I've already tried everything in my power to be freed; which isn't entirely true. In fact, there are a number of ways to escape. However, crippling myself isn't the most favorable of options, and neither is leaving behind another dead body in my tracks. Thus, I stay put and wait for my easy way out; indulging in the daily 'pig-slop specials', chatting it up with the local scum, and maybe singing a petty little tune or two along the way. Living the high life.


    Looking through the wrought metal bars at my conversing companion, I let my confidence and incorrigible boredom get the better of me. I melodically added, "...And anyway, say you and I did manage to escape somehow, I would be the last person you would want to be caught with on this old ship. My relations with the crew and captain aren't the most agreeable...", I roll out with a certain charm, keeping my subtle smirk. I don't draw my eyes from the girl, slightly interested in what her response might be. It's almost fun playing with people.



    ooc: i was thinking that maybe they could escape when the ships go to battle. maybe the other ship could bust through the wall or something?

  • Home.....(somewhat advanced..but not really)

    ((I'm not sure how advanced you want. My first posts are always kind of long...))



    My cold, scrawny legs tremble more and more with each step I take. No matter how hard I try, I can't stop them from shaking as I step carefully along the barren ground. I'm weak. So tired, and very weak. I can hardly remember a time when I wasn't left starving and scavenging for food, or when I could sit peacefully by a fire. A warm fire flickering in the night, the slow-roasting smell of wood and ashes, the soft crackling of embers....


    ...Wait a minute...


    I wasn't jut imagining a campfire now, I could actually smell one. I could hear it. There was one nearby.


    In my desperate and near delusional state, it didn't occur to me that where there was a fire, there was also a person. Possibly a dangerous person. But I didn't think of that, and so I scrambled onward through the darkness with a faint green glow emitting from the left side of my face as I went. My left eye is blind. It had been that way for some time now. A deep gash cuts through from my eye to my cheek, which gives off a peculiar green glow. Radioactivity, I assume. I suppose it could kill me at any moment. In the poor condition I'm in now, I can only hope that it brings my death quickly and without much pain.


    After a short burst through the darkness, I make it to the source of the fire. I am in shock when I see the small pile of embers being guarded by a dark figure with knives and weapons all at his disposal. I let out a sharp gasp and step back. If the radioactivity doesn't kill me, this man surely will.

  • Home.....(somewhat advanced..but not really)

    Ooc: Ok, good... And hehe, actually my character's a girl xD
    And Im on my phone now too


    I cross my arms over my chest as I feel the night around ne grow colder. I don't take my gaze off the man or boy, I can't tell. "I-I'm sorry..." I utter, afraid that I might have interrupted him. What was he mumbling? Something felt terribly wrong about this whole situation. The person didn't respond. Maybe he didn't hear me. Suddenly his face turned toward me and I nearly shrieked out loud. He wore what looked like a mask, which was frozen into a chilling smile. I took a step back and ducked my head down, causing my dark red hair to fall over my face. I didn't want to see what would happen to me next. Anything could happen, especially in times like this. I hope my death would be quick. Then again, things haven't exactly gone in my favor lately.

  • Home.....(somewhat advanced..but not really)

    The small red-haired girl was about to respond when she heard the faintest sound of careful footsteps. Crouching down to the ground, the girl sat motionless. Both eyes wide with alertness, although she could only see out of one. Realizing that the fierce green scar on her face emitted a glow that could have given away her presence, the girl covered it gingerly with her hands. Letting her gaze wander to her masked companion, she unknowingly placed her trust in him. Of course the girl had hardly any idea who he was or where he came from or even what his motives were, but something about him made her let her guard down. The wounds he was burdened with were similar to those she had. In a way, the two of them were the same. She didn't need to run from him.

  • Home.....(somewhat advanced..but not really)

    ooc: Garder is blue, Blue is blue, Leah is green


    The girl jumped when the fire re-ignited at the boy's knife. A chill ran through her body and she pulled her arms close to her, but she wasn't afraid. Looking up at the masked man, she could tell that his concern for her was genuine. With a shaky sigh, she replied, "I'm just a little shaken up, I think."


    That was a lie, and the small red-head girl knew it. Despite hunger clawing at her stomach and the cold biting at her bones, she was on the run from a ragtag group of bandits and thugs who didn't much appreciate her stealing supplies from their camp. The girl knew better than to slip her troubles onto the masked-man, though. Her problems were her problems. And she couldn't stay in one place long without risking the lives of anymore people. Despite this, she still felt obliged to be the least bit friendly. "I'm Leah, by the way."

  • Home.....(somewhat advanced..but not really)

    Leah took the biscuit with wide and grateful eyes. Her mouth watered, and as much as she wanted to dig into its rich substance, the man's question stopped her. "I-... I never said I was hiding from anybody..." she replied weakly. Leah was a terrible liar and she knew it. With the mask of her mysterious savior removed, Leah had the chance to look into his eyes for the first time. She could see the ragged blue scars that plagued his face; the scars that without a doubt brought reason for his mask. In effort to change the subject, Leah questioned him quietly. "...How did it happen to you?" she asked, implying the radiation scars. Looking up at the new girl, Leah could see that she had been harmed by the blue glow as well; probably similarly to the masked-man.

  • Home.....(somewhat advanced..but not really)

    A heavy silence hung in the darkness. Not a sound could be heard but the light whisper of a ghostly breeze. "It was grenade shrapnel, for me" Leah's small voice said suddenly. She remained cross-legged on the ground and as small as ever, but her face was emotionless and her gaze aimed into emptiness. The small biscuit rested lightly in her hand, and her words were spoken with a strange sense of detachment, as if what she was saying didn't bother her in the least. "A couple of good-for-nothing's had me chased halfway across the state before I could find a decent place to board up. Some musty abandoned bunker. There wasn't much there, but we didn't need much. It was almost dawn on the second day when we heard them start shooting that little field full of holes with everything from radioactive bullets to RPGs..." Leah turned the biscuit over her hands. For a moment she looked almost sad, but then she brought the biscuit to her mouth and bit into it with a bite that bordered on fierceness. She gripped it tightly and her stormy gaze was locked aggressively foreword.