[Records of an RP. Not for others to jump into.]
Me:-= Raindrops splattered upon the ground, landing at Noah's bare feet. It was as if the weather itself played a song; drip, drop, drip, drop.. Moisture landed upon Noah's bare skin, rolling across the smooth skin of tightened muscles; the bead of liquid slid across the fine orbs, manifestation of a disciplined body, then -- evaporated. Bestowed with a prowess known as pyrokinesis from his <c>
Me: father's side of the family, Noah could influence forces of which manipulated heat. Precisely using coercion to evaporate the tiny beads of rain that striked his being, they were evaporated to steam. A faint atmosphere encircled Noah's broad, fine figure, adding a sense of enigma. Wide optics, the hue of a light brown, stared off into the welcoming darkness. Exhaustion dragged at Noah's flesh <c>
Me: and he blinked -- the motion itself causing moisture to drip from his thick eyelashes. Running elegant fingers through tendrils of silky rich chocolate hair, Noah tilted his head back -- looking up until his apperception landed upon the canopy of the trees of the surrounding forests; a hand brushed downwards, lingering upon the edge of the denims that hugged at his hips. More than just the <c>
Me: wetness of the weather tugged at his flesh; something chilly, like an icy arrow, pierced his heart, and his arcane mind worked rapidly. The most subtle stirrings adjacent to Noah seemed like a pandemonium, and chaos reigned his mind. <e>
Tara: Chrisme closed her eyes, willing her mind to stop thinking of her family. She had left them. She was done with them. It was then that Chrisme felt raindrops begin landing on her pale face. She lifted her head from the ground, peering up at the sky with a hopeless expression on her face. How much she wished she could go home no one would ever know. Tough. She told herself, that's life <C>
Tara: She hugged her knees closer to her chest, hoping that the rain stopped soon even though the sky was a deep grey that suggested it wouldn't. Chrisme's head throbbed at the effort to stay awake. Her naturally crystal blue eyes were now a faded navy due to many sleepless nights. <C>
Tara: It was then that she saw him. A hazzy figure moving slowly through the forest. He looked strong, but something about him made Chrisme feel like she wanted to protect him. No, she must be crazy. Here's a little seventeen year old girl who ran away from home, who sees a man wandering in the woods, and wants to protect him. She tells herself she should be a little more concerned with protecting <C>
Tara: herself rather than strange men. She stood up silently, twisting herself so she was out of sight just in case the man was danjerous. But again, something told her that he wasn't. She jumped noiselessly from tree to tree, following him. Even if it was the only thing Chrisme knew how to do, she could be stealthy. All her life Chrisme had been "The quiet girl" so moving without making noise came <C>
Tara: naturally to her. She continued following him, scrutinizing his facial expression, not quite sure what sh was looking for, but she was deffinately looking for something. As she backed away slightly from the tree she was hiding behind, ready to hop behind another, a dead branch lying on the ground snagged her foot, and she toppled over, landing with a loud crash on her back. She tried to <C>
Tara: scramble to her feet, to avoid being seen, but it was too late. He was starring right at her.<E>
Me: -= Noah's astute oculusues flickered about, like a radar of some sort, then thick brows creased at a sensation that came into existent. A minuscule bag was slung over his wide-shoulder, and a sly movement brought the bag to his side, long digits curling firmly upon the strap. But it was proven unnecessary, due to the fact that the clumsy female landed before him. Perception closed in upon the <c>
Me: personage, and he trudged closer meticulously. Stern facial features wore a blank composure as he surveyed the female in silence, then crouched. Noah's free hand slid outwards, landing upon the female's shoulder. "Do you..." brows furrowed, mien solemn, "like the rain?" Noah, the weird one amongst his siblings, could be considered socially-awkward. The more anxious he becomes, all the more <c>
Me: bizarre his spoken words, of which increases the stress level, and the cycle flows on mercilessly. Unlike his brother, Felix, the social-butterfly and charmer of the family, Noah's shy and reserved, an utter mystery to most people, often misunderstood by those who judge hastily. A bead of moisture slid downwards, across the bridge of Noah's tall nose, landing upon lush, fine lips. "You're in <c>
Me: good shape." The pointless uttering of detail and useless facts, is perhaps Noah's defect from his genetics. He asserted the previous statement by looking at the shape of her figure, and it seems.. she's not so damaged from her fall. To be able to make it out in such decent conditions, indeed, she would either be extremely lucky, or possesses aspiring stamina. Most likely the latter, <c>
Me: for it is ultimately more logical. <e>
Tara: Chrisme watched him warily as he approached her. She trusted him for some unexplainable reason, but it was still her instinct to be cautious. As soon as she heard him speak, she knew he wouldn't harm her. Even though his words seemed awkward, and not exactly what she'd expected, she liked the way he said them. "No.." She answered, "Not really." Infact, Chrisme had never really thought about how<C>
Tara: much she disliked the rain. Or water in general for that matter. She just starred up at his face like an idiot, trying to pinpoint exactly what it was that she was looking for. At his words, she tore her gaze from his face to inspect her ankle, moving it slowly as to make sure it wasn't broken. She was extremely relieve to find that it responded perfectly, showing no signs of injury.<C>
Tara: Chrisme stood, brushing off her plain, dark clothes. She realized that it was now pouring, and her hair was completely soaked, hanging down infront of her face. She brushed it away lightly with her hand, half annoyed that she hadn't tied it up when it was still dry, and half thankfull that it provided some cover. Being a shy girl, Chrisme liked to have something to hide behind, especially <C>
Tara: with strangers around. She looked over her shoulder at the noise of wings fluttering, and she saw a bird fly into a tree near a dark cave mouth. She pointed towards the cave saying, "Over there. It looks pretty dry." then without waiting for a reply, she tripped lightly over to the cave, sitting inside enough to that she was dry, but not far enough to be enveloped in the darkness. Chrisme would<C>
Tara: never admit it to anyone, but she was deathly afraid of the dark. Afraid something would reach out and grab her. That the darkness itself would wrap around her, and drag her into that horrible nothingness that darkness seemed to linger in<E>
Me: -= Noah with his innately incredible perception, sensed wariness, yet ease. Perhaps a war is being waged inside the female, one of wanting to hastily trust, and the other to be wary. He released her shoulder for the sake of subtracting the tension from the equation of their interaction; head cocked backwards until liquid splattered upon his face once more, some of which slid down his <c>
Me: strong jaw. Similar in some aspects to some sort of heat machine, warmth emitted from Noah; moisture evaporated cleanly off of him, evoking the arcanic fog once more. It seemed like a battle, with Noah heating up to minus the rain from his physique, then the weather rebelled by producing more liquid. Enigmatic mind siphoned through wandering thoughts, Noah shifted towards the dry location <c>
Me: spotted by the female. Settling himself down quietly beside her, a hand swung out spontaneously; slender digits of his strong appendage grasped her hand, shaking it irregularly, "Noah Mayllen." It must be a strange self-introduction, and a part of him felt his hand-shake was incorrect, violating some sort of invisible rule of courteousy. "Too dark to hike." Noah's words were proven to be <c>
Me: vague, by the ratio lacking pleasing equilibrium, manifesting others' lack of acceptance. Noah is rather difficult to be understood, for he surely isn't one to be able to be read, like some sort of pitiful, naive book. Heat manipulated by Noah caused his clothing to dry, and a hand slid outwards once more; brushing strands of her wet hair aside, brown eyes blinked intelligently at her. Noah's <c>
Me: pools, a light tinge of brown, could be described as radiating with melancholy, a steady calm, compassion, and virtuous honesty. "Clouds should roll back soon." <e>
Subject: Rainfall 
Sat May 31, 2008 5:29 am