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Post by ∴♪WolfurChickϗ on Feb 8, 2010 12:45:12 GMT -5
His brush strokes were quick and effortless as they danced along the canvas. His eyes took in every variation of colors, though in the dark, underground city of Nain Taiyou, it was mostly blacks and greys. He did paint the occasional lights, and though Nain Taiyou was well lit because of its complicated hydroelectric power, "Kyle"'s purpose was to paint the city as a loveless, dark place, and it showed well in the beauty of his paintings.
His skin had paled considerably while underground, which had been sped up by a certain medicine to help him adjust more quickly to being in a sunless, underground city, and also to help him blend in. His hair was a suprizingly bright orange, which might have come from the fact that it could not be sun bleached. His eyes were an almost as bright, almost copper orange, though they were only contacts to help him see even in the dimest halls.
His clothes were mixtures of dark and bright, wearing mostly reds, yellows, and blacks. Just like Riku Haru, the residents of Nain Taiyou wore just about anything, so colors and styles did not matter. Kyle gave the brush a quick flick on the canvas, and his painting was finished. It was a gorgous dipiction of Nain Taiyou in its early stages, mostly dark and mysterious, lonely, and yet so full of future promise.
The fact was, that Kyle was actually starting to like Nain Taiyou, despite its dark atmosphere and lack of a proper military system. However, he kept his distance from most people. He knew his job, and he knew that making friends was more than dangerous. Still, his interest in the city grew each day, and so he was constantly watching the people. By now, he almost knew everyone's jobs.
ALMOST. There were still others that evaded his knowledge, and so he watched them a little closer, noting their likes and dilikes, soaking up every ounce of information while he created his painted masterpieces.
As the painting dried, he stuffed it into his arms and scrambled to collect his paints. He had been watching the residents, and most that appealed to his interests revolved around one place, and so he made his way onto one of the futuristic cable cars and rode up to the largest, and oldest building, home to the leader of Nain Taiyou; Clair Avenir.
The upside down buildings of Nain Taiyou continued to amaze Kyle, and the "castle" of Clair Avenir was the most spectacular out of all of them. Not only was it the first building designed to hang from the roots of trees (though now a days, the houses were required to be restabled using steel, which makes it much safer) but it was built with a town square attached, and every home and building around lead to the "castle."
Kyle made his way to this town square, and though he was very high off the cavern floor, he felt completely safe. After glancing around for a perfect place, he finally set up his paints and canvases once more, with the "castle" doors and important businesses in his view.
And then he began to paint. This time, he decided to make the castle his point of focus. However, he continued painting with darkness, his brush strokes swift and smooth, painting with the colors of rock and shadows. This time, a wide variety of people began to stop, and watch. A few of them ooed and ahhed at his ability, and he smiled in response.
Normally, a spy would do his best to keep from being seen, but Kyle's point was obvious. He could see everything, everyone, learn more about them, and at the same time, they thought him nothing more but an artist.
After all, what better place to hide than in plain site?
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ᴍoᴎnster
Newbie
he ate my heart. he a-a-a-ate my heart out.
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Post by ᴍoᴎnster on Feb 10, 2010 8:04:19 GMT -5
Routine. When you look that word up in the dictionary it depicts it as “A set of customary and often mechanically performed procedures or activities” Shizu Tanaka did this after hearing her grandmother let out one of her wise old laughs. “Shizu, after all these years. She has finally fallen into a routine.” Her pale and thin fingers slid from one page to the other for definitions of the word. Shizu was not stupid. She was intelligent. Graceful. A graceful assassin. A graceful ninja. Powerful as well. But when her grandmother told her she had ‘fallen into a routine.’ Her pale expression had turned into a frown.
A. B. C. D. E. F. G.
When she heard the word Routine. Her mind created the vivid image of business men. The people with no powers. Hurrying to work to stress and work their fingers to the bone to fu-fill their family’s needs. They would wake up, brush their teeth, get dressed, eat breakfast, hurry off to work. Work for two hours. Two plus eight that is. Working nine till five. Clearly it was a way to make a living. Then after that red little hand ticked passed and turned five o’clock into one minute past five. They would pack up their stuff and leave for home. Be welcomed by their wife, their children, the couch, a TV, a nice family dinner. Shizu was not like that. So she knew a routine would never be something she’d fall into.
H. I. J. K.
A frustrated sigh left her pale pink lips. So many letters in the alphabet. How long would it take her to get to the letter ‘R’ ? Her bony shoulders hunched up a little, like some sort of owl who ruffles his feathers to scare the cold away. Shizu’s short, soft hair was shaped around her face. And each pale lime stand would rise and fall with each gentle breath. Her silver orbs blinking over each letter in the top right hand corner of the pages she flicked through roughly. “Shhhhhhhhhh!” Even if it was only a ruffle of pages, the old librarians face was crinkled in a frown that had more wrinkles than an elephants as she had seen in text books. Shizu’s head craned in the old women’s direction and offered a sorry smile. Rubbing the page between her fingers until the women went back to her duties. Shizu sighed. Rolling her silver eyes and fighting the urge to call the woman an old hag. The university’s library was always so quiet. And that woman had hearing like a bat. She didn’t want to take the chance.
L. M .N.O. P.
All day her grandmother’s words had stayed with her. ‘She has finally fallen to a routine’ Shizu didn’t concentrate in lectures. Refused to write notes. Only she sat there. A frown on her face. A sour expression. Arms across her chest and her legs crossed under the table. Her ballet pumps tapping againsted the cold floor as she imagined her self doing the routine of a business man. It made her feel sick. She was from the Tanaka clan. A Tanaka wasn’t a business man. A Tanaka was an assassin and ninja. They mite of taken on the appearance of a business man. But they where so much more. Just like Shizu. Being a student was almost like a secret identity. Top of her forensic science class. Once her course was up a scientist she would be. And that’s how she was going to keep it. No one had to know better.
Q. R.
‘R.’ Shizu quickly stopped. Her short search of frustration had paid off and she quickly flipped through to the word ‘Routine.’ “Routine…” She breathed quietly. Her voice like a feather on the wind. “A set of customary and often mechanically performed procedures of activities…” Her voice trailed off again and she brushed a set of fingers though her hair. Shizu’s grandmother had meant she was predictable. Was her daily activates all the same?
That’s the question she was left with when she exited the library. A frown blessing her pale and glowing features. In one arm she held a folder, full of hole punched paper covered in notes and information. The school bag slung over one of her shoulders and stereotyped her as a student fresh out of high school. Her free hand stuffed into the knitted pocket of her knitted black jacket and her cream colored dress ruffled in the wind. Her feet glided her across her home city in small steps, graceful like a true lady. It was now she wondered. What was her routine.
With a still sour expression she decided to unravel it all bit by bit. She would wake early and train. Train. And train some more. It was then she would have her shower and study her notes for class. Then read them again and again till she knew it all word for word. Shizu would then arm herself. Hidden blades that contracted in her vintage but casual appearing arm bracers. A smoke bomb hidden away in her shoulder bag. Poison blades stored away in what appeared to be a small mirror container women would use to check their flawless skin. Unless she had to go on a mission, she would go to school. After her assassination or schooling was done she would come home to their large family house and congregate with the family and would then normally train with them after or spend some quality time with them. She’d then train a little more and study a little more before going to bed to start all over again.
That was a routine. Shizu sighed was realizing. How horrid. Routines where for the normal. She saw her life has being different and better to the rest. To know she had fallen into a routine so simple annoyed her. But deep down Shizu wouldn’t change it for the world. She had to continue her routine now, back to the home she was born and raised in as a Tanaka. A long walk across Nain Taiyou would be nothing for Shizu. She could have taken the cable cars right to her door step, yes, but she also saw walking as keeping her fit. And training.
She’d already reached the town square of that large castle in her short graceful steps without even breaking a sweat. It was in this district a lot of her assassinations took place. A lot of people came here. A lot of corrupt people, or so her family told her. Business man with greedy souls, kept more money to themselves than they should and Shizu helped these people into their graves. For the first time Shizu’s lips twitched into a small smile a she walked. That was one thing in her routine she would never become bored of.
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Post by ∴♪WolfurChickϗ on Feb 10, 2010 22:17:22 GMT -5
The crowd only seemed to grow thicker as Kyle's brush strokes became rapid. The smile on his face spread from cheek to cheek as he watched them carefuly out of the corner of his eyes. Oh how he must have looked odd, wearing such a bright smile wilst he painted such depressing pictures. And then of course there was the fact that he was a painter. Kyle realized that being a free spirit was not common in Nain Taiyou. Infact, he noticed that art was very rare in the city, which only made him prouder to have been born with such a talent. He may have been a spy, but today, he was an artist.
Kyle glanced occasionally at the faces of those in the crowd and the rest of the town square. He recognized most of them from earlier watches; a poor lady trying to make a living working in the water works, a gate guard who only came around on important trips, a child who was sent to the pharmacy every day to get medicine for his dying mother. Everyone who walked into that square came because they did it everyday, or once every week, or once every few days. They had the same schedule, everyday. Work, work, work. It was great that everyone worked so hard, because it created progress, and was the one reason that Nain Taiyou was so advanced.
Unfortunately, this also meant that Nain Taiyou was more of a threat. That was what he was here for, to spy on the village, to be the first one to know if they were doing anything that would threaten his own village; Kagirinai Arashi.
Kyle decided to switch the meaning of the painting, being inspired by these robotic people. Instead of making it dark and prehistoric, he began painting the entire city as it was; lit well and bright. He put a lot more colors into his painting than usual, but he blurred things to make it look more sped up. It gave the painting the desired effect, one of... routine.
As he finished the buildings, the colors, and the blurs, he realized that there was still something missing, something to give the painting a stronger look of routine. Then right on schedule, it came walking into the town square: the final element. He watched her footsteps like clockwork. He had seen her before, every day infact. He admired the fact that she was always walking, never using the cable cars, but it also gave her an aura of mysteriousness.
Every day he watched her in her routine, and yet he was no closer to figuring her out. Quickly, his wrist twitched as he moved his brush along the canvas, creating her image. Her dark clothing contrasted perfectly into the background. Every one around him gasped in awe as he finished. He quietly set his brush down, and the crowd applauded. Then slowly, they parted, to continue with their schedules.
Kyle however remained still, his head lifted as his eyes followed the mysterious girl. His fascination of her grew. "Who are you?" He mumbled quietly to himself.
He glanced down at his painting and smiled. It truly was his masterpiece, though this city would never know it. His smile grew at the sight of the slightly blurred young woman, the lights in the background giving her amazing highlights. He couldn't take his eyes off the painting. To Kyle, it was truly spectucular... It was perfect.
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ᴍoᴎnster
Newbie
he ate my heart. he a-a-a-ate my heart out.
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Post by ᴍoᴎnster on Feb 12, 2010 10:10:42 GMT -5
Time square’s voices all hummed into one and peoples footsteps scuffed along in time. Creating an chamber coir of routine. Routine, routine, routine. This word could not escape her head. It was like a wild bird suddenly caged away in a small, round, vintage brass cage. Once with no trouble in the world. Now trapped and having to adapt. It had to learn to not stretch its wings wide or they would be damaged. White and beautiful free feathers, dulled by rust and the claustrophobic feeling of isolation.
This was the image Shizu held in her mind. She could see herself as this graceful bird. Trying hopelessly to escape this realization brought to her with one single word. “Routine.”
The assassin craned her head in every direction. Every face was the same, stored away in the memory bank she now named ‘routine.’ Their faces had become a small fragment of her routine just as she had become a fragment of theirs. That same worn out business man, that same old lady, that same little boy, that seemed to have to carry the world upon his shoulders and showed it in his worn out eyes. That same cluster of people, huddled around that same orange haired artist. They would awe with wide eyes over his master pieces Shizu would never glance at. Never had she. It had become routine.
Routine, routine, routine. There it was again. It was becoming a bad taste in her mouth. A bad taste she would use mouth wash on when she returned home and wake the next day, putting that bad taste and bad word in the area under the panels of wood that made the floor of her bedroom. This time Shizu watched the painter for a while. His broad smile, bright copper eyes that matched his bright hair. Such a clash of bright and warm colors in a place so dark that had no sun to tell when day really begun or when it really ended. She gently frowned. How you dress is also a routine.
Shizu knew her routine… but it made her wonder about others. Her routine was unlike the cliché idea she had thought of. This meant it was the same for others. Maybe he woke up surrounded by his painting and it caused a smile to reach his face and then maybe he would move to that spot he sat in right then. Where people would crowd around and be in awe of his work until he packed up and shooed them away. Maybe he returned to his home and would place it with the others, Shizu wondered what they looked like. By the way he grinned broadly at his art work it must have been good. She could of just spun on her heels and cured her curiosity by looking. But never, not ever, would Shizu draw attention to herself. Her job was to blend in with the crowd. Not to draw attention to herself so she stuck out like a sore thumb. Shizu was a wanted criminal. Like the other assassins in her family, but Shizu and her family where always able to keep their identity hidden. She didn’t want to be the one to get the Tanaka clan flushed out into the open.
Shizu’s head was with the graceful bird in the clouds of her mind. The word routine circling her thoughts like a hungry shark of hurricane. Silver orbs watching the orange haired artist with the slightest of curiosity to what could be so important about it. Her in sync step fell out of place as her ballet pump caught on itself and with and gentle un required nudge of a passerby she stumbled forward. Her body tilting forward till it seemed as if she would fall. But the next thing she had rocked back on her stable heel, finding her footing again, her un natural quick reflexes always worked to her favor. Never had she embarrassed herself with a face plant yet. Although the Tanaka girl couldn’t say the same for the loose papers she had stuffed into her folder. For the first time since she had started walking, she stopped. Quickly glancing around to see if any one had seen her embarrassing stumble, quick recovery or the ordeal of having to pick up the few white pieces of paper scattered around her. Shizu’s lime hair falling over her eyes as she crouched down and collected the papers into their pile. A frown across her soft features. This was time consuming. She wanted to be on her way home, not collecting papers. It was disturbing her routine. That thought made her frown even more.
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Post by ∴♪WolfurChickϗ on Feb 12, 2010 18:31:25 GMT -5
Even as the crowd disapeared completly, today, Kyle stayed in his place, his eyes never leaving the painting. It was almost as if he hadn't painted it at all, but he was proud that he did. As it dried, he ran his fingers across the ridges. His mind was filled with different thoughts. Some were of pride of his newest masterpiece, some were of worry, knowing that he was supposed to be a spy first, and a painter second, and others were of fear. Fear that if he ever painted again, he would paint a picture better than this one.
Normally, the artist's objective is to out paint, or out draw, themselves. They want to get better, but Kyle was afraid to paint a better picture. Not really because it would attract too much attention to him, no, because even if it did, "kyle" was REALLY good at disapearing. No, it was more because he didn't want to lose the love he felt for this painting. The final element... that was what made the painting great. It was the first time he painted a person, and it gave life to his paintings. He didn't want to take the life away from this one... but he knew his orders.
And then he thought of an idea. What if he switched his focus point from the city itself, to the people in it? Or even better, the final element. The final element was so mysterious, so full of routine, yet so different from all the others. What made her different? A large smile crossed his face. He could find out, and no one would suspect a thing. He could follow the final element. He could follow her, and paint her.
In all honesty, he didn't want to know more about her, all though that would be his excuse if his boss asked him. No, It would make the paintings lose their mysteriousness. No, in reality, he just wanted to paint her. She was the final element, and soon, she would be the only element.
His gaze travelled off the canvas and back into the people in the square. By now, he was sure the element would be gone, she usually was by now. However, luckily, she was still in the square, stalled from dropping her papers. Kyle smiled. It was fate, it must of been. She was still here. Every day, she walked on by, but today, the one day Kyle was thinking of painting her, she dropped her papers, and she was still here.
Kyle slipped the painting under his arms with the others, carrying his paints in one hand, his easel in the other, and his brushes clentched between his teeth. He picked up his feet and began walking the long way around the square, glancing at the element every now and then. He was soaking everything up; the way her hair soaked up light, the way her eyes seemed almost frantic when she seemed to make a mistake, the way her light skin helped her to fit in with the other near albinos in the village. He watched her feet, her hands, the way she walked, the way she breathed... In order to be the element, he needed to know as much about her as possible, without learning anything about her. To most, that would make no sense, but to Kyle, it was life.
And so he set off to watch her, to follow her, but to never learn her job, to never learn her name. He would be disobeying orders, but no one would know. Right now, he wanted to paint. And he wanted to paint the element.
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ᴍoᴎnster
Newbie
he ate my heart. he a-a-a-ate my heart out.
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Post by ᴍoᴎnster on Feb 12, 2010 19:23:42 GMT -5
Quickly the assassin clamped her pale fingers around the neat pile of papers she had formed on the ground. Eyes flipping across the papers and causing her to frown again. Sigh in dismay. They where out of order. This made her skin crawl. Like any one who suffered the disorder like her, this would just not do. Quickly she rested the folder beside her on the ground and began to arrange the papers from page one to page six. Obsessive-compulsive disorder had affected Shizu ever since she was young, and still now a crooked painting would make her frown in disgust. With the sound of rustling papers between her fingers stopped when all pages where in their right order. Making sure she put her papers in a plastic sleeve this time before hugging the folder to her chest and coming back to her short but full height.
Maybe this would become habit too. A routine. Shizu frowned again then. Her grandmother would shake her head to see her grand daughter like this. She would bring her self up from her chair, press her wrinkled fingers againsted the corner of Shizu’s lips and force them up into a smile. “No frowns Shizu, I do not want Yuichi’s only daughter to be frowning when the wind blows.” Shizu shook her head. Relaxing the sour face at the thought of her farther. No, he would not of liked her worrying about the simple thought of falling into routine. It would get in the way of Shizu’s happyness, and her work. An assassin with other things on her mind was not a very good assassin. And therefore; a clumsy one.
Before the student began her walking, she shifted her heard towards where the crowd use to stand around the painter who was now gone too. Imagining him going home and putting the artwork with the rest of his master pieces with a smile on his face. Shizu would go home to train, study and listen to her family bond. With a neutral look in her eyes or a frown on her face. With the roll of her bony shoulder, positioning her book bag again and reaching a set of her fingers up to brush her hair away from her eyes. She began to walk again in her small steps and found her normal routine was put into play again as she crossed the times square, still full of pale faces like hers. Unknown that she was being followed in this sea of Nain Taiyou residents.
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Post by ∴♪WolfurChickϗ on Feb 12, 2010 20:31:18 GMT -5
His footsteps were swift, silent, smooth, much like his brush strokes. To any one else, he would appear to be walking further away from his element which he so beautifully painted, but he knew her route. Infact, he knew the city of Nain Taiyou more than most people. He had to. As a spy, he needed to know every exit, every entrance, every nook and cranny. And so this time, he took the opposite route than the element. However, at any moment, he could turn his head and see her.
Ofcourse, this meant that at any moment, she could turn her head and see him. Usually, at least as his alias Kyle, he wanted to be seen. People suspected you less the more you are seen. However, if everytime you looked over, you saw the same guy staring back at you, it wouldn't look good. So Kyle has to try hard not to be spotted by her, or atleast, not to look like he was following her. So far, he was doing really good at it, the same he had been for years.
But life is just silly some times. At one moment, you can be great at something, and the next, someone comes and is better than you. At one moment, you can be a coordinated killer, and the next, dropping your papers all over the place. At one moment, you could be a spy, blending in perfectly with a crowd, avoiding the eyes of the one you are following, then...
"HEY!" Kyle's angered voice shouted out into the crowd of people rushing onto a nearby cable car, the load in his arms lighter by one painting. "NO! GET BACK HERE!" He screamed, dropping all of his paints, his previous paintings, everything onto the "streets" while confused onlookers halted their busy schedules to see what was going on.
Kyle chased the thief passed the cable cars, and passed the library. All he could see was dark clothing and odd, though very expensive looking shoes. He kept after the thief. Who ever this thief was, he was fast, but he had no idea who Kyle really was, and Kyle was catching up. He avoided pushing anyone by, unlike the thief, but he jumped and glided over every obsticle. He was just feet away from grabbing the guy, when a familiar ringing buzzed in his ear.
"Nayk! We have recorded readings that your heart rate is up. Are you in combat?" said an almost inaudable voice in his ear. "No." He whipsered, nearly running out of breath, but not slowing down. "Running. Chasing." He heard a grunt respond in his ear. "Chasing? You are supposed to let us know about this stuff! Are they dangerous? Do you need back up?" Kyle rolled his eyes at the voice. "Negative. Just some jerk who stole my painting!"
If he had seen the face behind the voice, he would have seen a teeth clentching, very angry face. "Nayk! Fall back!" Kyle frowned. He wanted to argue, but how could he? This was his boss he was talking to, Macht Hongerig, second in command of Kagirinai Arashi himself. Sadly, painfully, his footsteps slowed, and he watched in horror as the man got away with his beloved masterpiece.
"No...." He sighed, feeling a painful headache coming on. "Nayk, are you insane?!" The voice rasped. "A painting?! Chasing some guy for a stupid painting?!" Kyle cringed at the words. "Just... trying to keep my alias."Kyle lied. He could hear the voice spit, and was a little grossed out by how close it sounded in his ear. "No painter would chase after one of his paintings! Now leave it be and get back to your job!" The voice disapeared, and Kyle grunted. "What do you know about what an artist would do for their art?" He argued with the voice, knowing that it could no longer hear him. He looked down at his hands, as if they were useless tools. "He was this close...."
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ᴍoᴎnster
Newbie
he ate my heart. he a-a-a-ate my heart out.
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Post by ᴍoᴎnster on Feb 12, 2010 23:53:55 GMT -5
Each step Shizu took there was that feeling eyes where on her, not just out of coincidence. But on her for a reason. Her body slowly grew a little stiffer than before and she could feel the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She had to look around and find him. Shizu would then know what she was up againsted and know if she was under a threat. Or if her family was. For a moment she put the fear of routine to the back of her mind and put her safety first.
But before she could really prepare herself to search. She heard raised voices, and like other pale faces. She turned her head in the voices direction and realized who it was. It was the artist. The artist and his brightly colored hair and outfits. Shizu realized what had happened in only a few moments. Someone had stolen one of his paintings. And by his reaction, it had been the one he grinned at so lovingly when she first saw him. But what really caught Shizu off guard was the thief. His tall body, black outfit, pale skin, those expensive shoes. That made the assassin frown, stop steady in her tracks. She remembered those shoes, and she remembered the face to go with them.
Yoichi, her brother, owned that pare of shoes. Just like all the other fashionable shoes you could poke a stick at. Her brother was an assassin, like herself. A rather ruthless one at that. Also her life time rival. But it left her with a questioned to be answered. Why was he stealing a artists masterpiece. One he cared for and loved. Shizu’s clan killed and defeated the twisted. Not stole from the normal person. From what Shizu knew, he didn’t even like art. This made it even more confusing.
Now Shizu frowned even more. Watching as her brother escaped and the artist was now one master piece short. Slowly she began to walk again. And the feeling of being stalked left her and the threat was eliminated. But she still frowned. Next time she saw her older brother she would scold him and force him to hand that painting back to her. Then she would return the smile to that painters face and have the excuse to see his mater piece.
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Post by ∴♪WolfurChickϗ on Feb 13, 2010 0:34:49 GMT -5
Kyle frowned as his painting got away. His masterpiece... He tried to shake his mind off of the fact, but his boss has been right about one thing. He needed to focus on his job. Who knows, the leader of Nain Taiyou could have declaired war by the time he got his brain back where it needed to be. He glanced around to make sure nobody was staring.
They were.
Kyle needed to disapear. He decided to go back and grab his paints. Luckily, they were still there. It seemed nobody in Nain Taiyou really cared about a few colors and canvases. He picked up his paints, and his paintings, useless to him now, and decided to disapear into the crowd climbing into the cable cars. As Kyle entered through the doors of the cable cars, a thought popped into his mind. A thought of hope.
The element. He squeezed over to the doors, peeking out before they could close. His smile of hope faded as the doors shut before, the element out of sight. He glanced down sadly at his paints. There was always routine... there was always tomarrow....
****
The thief turned his head, glad that the painter had finally stopped following him. 'Yeesh, for a painter, he sure can keep up... I thought for sure he almost had me.' He thought to himself. 'Not that he could have been a match for me, but a public assassination wouldn't have been too smart...' He kept on the move, his footstep quick as he took an alternative route, down near some old buildings that weren't livable anymore, for the fact that their supports hadn't been rebuilt, so they were still hanging quite literally from the tree roots above ground. Nobody took that road anymore, except for the occasional joggers, which usually jogged in the morning, despite there being a sunrise.
He lifted the painting so that he could see it properlly. He looked at it with discust. "Art... why? It is such a stupid thing. You waste money on buying paints and paper... waste time on actually painting the darn things. That money and man power could go towards fixing up these houses so that people could live in them!" He said quietly, though out loud, as he usually did while walking this street. He looked over the final element in the painting and shook his head. "Way to go sis."
Finally, he bounded down towards a most familiar place, and on the way, he saw a familar face. He knew she would be headed that way, and he aimed to meet her on the way. Finally, he jogged up to her. "Shizu." He hissed, being careful not to drag his expensive shoes on the road, though side stepping next to her. "Long time no see." His voice was serious as he looked around, only half hiding the painting under his arm.
"We need to talk."
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ᴍoᴎnster
Newbie
he ate my heart. he a-a-a-ate my heart out.
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Post by ᴍoᴎnster on Feb 13, 2010 1:25:44 GMT -5
Shizu was now far from Times Square. And the family home was out of her reach, but if she kept up her pace she would soon be home and welcomed by the warm embrace of her Tanaka clan. That is if she kept her pace. Yoichi’s voice hissed in her ear, and her sour face grew even more sour. But she kept up the pace so he would have to keep up. Aiming for Yoichi to finally ruin one of those pairs of shoes he would love more than a baby. “Yoichi. It has been a long time, brother.” She sighed to his greeting. Reaching up and gently rubbing the bridge of her nose as Shizu listened to the serious tone in her brothers voice.
With his words ‘we need to talk’ Shizu slowed down. Looking up at her brother now, her silver eyes falling to look at the painting under his arm for a second then back to Yoichi. “I think we do need to talk.” She agreed. Holding her folder againsted her chest in a way to cross her arms. “I am sure art theft isn’t apart of our code, Yoichi.” Shizu pointed out with a frown still on her face. The code she was speaking of was the way of the assassin and ninja. Shizu lived by the guide lines straight to the fine line. Specially since their farther had been killed in action.
Shizu breathed out a gentle sigh, letting her orbs fall down to the painting again. “The artist really seemed to like that painting.” She added. “You know, I could take it back to him tomorrow and let you off the hook without telling the family.” She proposed, reaching out her index finger to tap at the corner of the canvas. Her curiosity was getting too her now and the sooner she saw the picture the better. But she didn’t want to show that to Yoichi. Curiosity wasn’t Shizu’s normal emotion.
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Post by ∴♪WolfurChickϗ on Feb 13, 2010 1:51:33 GMT -5
Yoichi grunted at his sister's carelessness. He grabbed her by the arm and yanked her to a complete stop. "Tell the family. Stealing someone's art is alot better than getting the entire clan disovered." In all honesty, he wanted to make sure she was paying attention. He glanced down to make sure there were no scuffs on his shoes, then decided to break the ice. "You think I took this art because I wanted to? Because I thought it was pretty? You know me better than that. Art is a complete waste. And you!" He said, poking her gently in the nose. "Need to pay more attention! How could you have somebody watching you without even realizing it?"
Realizing that she was probably very confused, he decided to show her the painting. He shoved the useless art into her hands with the side that was painted on in front of her face. "Isn't it lovely? What did you do, pose for it?" He turned away and grunted again, aggrivated, as usual. "Do you know how many people flock to see that stupid artist paint his pictures? " but before she could answer, he answered for her. "On average, thirty two people when he paints in the town square. That is thirty two people who saw YOUR face on a painting. Do you know how much attention this could draw to the family?"
He shook his head in disbelief. Though he acted like he was angry at her for having to fix her mistake, he was actually glad she made the mistake. He wanted to feel like the one people needed to run to help for. He loved feeling needed. But most of all, he loved black mail. "So go ahead, tell the family about me stealing that painting. I'm sure they'll make me head of the clan!" He looked back at her, crossing his arms without wrinkling his favorite pintriped shirt. "I didn't even have time to change out of my good clothes before I had to take that away from him! You have GOT to pay more attention to things!"
Finally, he was out of breath, and decided to stop lecturing her. This was his favorite greeting towards Shizu. He hardly ever saw her anymore, and when he did, it was to tell her that she had made a big mistake, or to make her feel like she wasn't worth a dime. It wasn't that he liked to make others feel crappy, it was that he liked to make himself feel better than everyone else. He had this problem since his father died.
You see, Yoichi had loved his father. When he was young, he thought his father was fearless and powerful. He thought he was invincible. Never in a million years could he have thought that his father could even get hurt. And then he returned home in a body bag. It changed his perspective, and while it may have made his sister afraid, it made Yoichi angry at his father. He had let him down. And so Yoichi decided that he would do his very best to show everyone that he was nothing like his weak father. He wanted to prove to everyone, but mostly himself, that he was strong.
Yoichi was a kind hearted child. The death of his father really hurt him, though he was afraid to show it. It turned him cold hearted. Though the person who was affected by it the hardest was his sister, Shizu. It was all he knew anymore, was being stronger than anyone else.
And his shoes. Oh he loved his shoes. But he hadn't always loved them. The day before his father died, he decided to have the talk with his son. No, not about the birds and the bees. The talk about some day having to kill a man. Yoichi was fascinated by it, and he knew that he would be doing a good thing some day by taking out an evil man. And that day, his father gave him some odd advice.
"But let me tell you son, watch what you wear on your feet. Because some day, your target may be stronger than you. If that is the case, he will beat you. You must always remember to train hard, and to never give up, but you must never forget that every day you work, your life is on the line. And if you ever get killed, you'll want your feet to look the best. Because when they pull the white sheet over your lifeless body, your feet will be all they see."
That day, it had been a joke. But the next day, Yoichi's father never came home. Most said that was the day that Yoichi became a dark person, caring nothing about being stronger than everyone who loved him, but he remembered his father's words, and they did make him afraid. So he always remembered to dress his feet well, because some day, just like his father said;
They may be the last thing anyone ever sees.
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ᴍoᴎnster
Newbie
he ate my heart. he a-a-a-ate my heart out.
Posts: 36
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Post by ᴍoᴎnster on Feb 13, 2010 2:44:03 GMT -5
Shizu growled in irritation when her brother both latched onto her arm and poked her nose gently. Both full of confusion and annoyance at her brother’s actions, if he wasn’t of her blood and clan she would of loved to jab a poisoned dagger into his side, watch the poison slowly drive him staggering across the road and collapsing in a twitching heap a few meters away. She had come to despise her brother after all the years since their father’s death. His cold heart was at the temperature where you grab that chunk of ice and you can’t let go even if you wanted to. You scream in pain because the ice is actually burning your skin and it leaves your skin red and blistery and numb. That’s all Yoichi could do to Shizu now. Her older brother’s words always burnt some sort of horrid mark into her mind. Other family members told her not to take his words seriously, but it was sibling rivalry over board. She refused to even think that her brother would take head status in the clan.
But when the painting was pushed into her hands and her silver gaze finally was able to look at the artists master piece her stomach seemed to get that feeling of being dropped. Amounted the beautiful blurred, speed up colors of the painting she could see herself. Painted perfectly in contrast with the scenery as if Shizu was apart of the city foundation itself. It was… simply perfect. She let her hands trail across the dried paint. A sour expression on her face as she listened to Yoichi rant on.
Inside her stomach turned a little with the realization her brother was right. That she had allowed herself to be caught and burnt into thirty two peoples memories from this artists beautiful painting. She tried not to show Yoichi he was right and kept her gaze on the painting. But quickly her head snapped up at hearing him say they would make him head of the clean. She frowned at him, trying to suppress a growl. As he /finally/ silenced himself, Shizu looked back down to the canvas. Sighing gently as she shifted the painting under one arm with her folder and looking up at Yoichi. “Some times its good to be seen, Yoichi.” She protested, trying to keep calm as she did.
“I’m sure more people saw you when you stole the painting then people saw me being painted. YOU are the one who should be paying more attention. You’re get away was just as poor.” Waving her index finger at the assassin. “You call yourself an Assassin, a Ninja. But blackmailing me isn’t what any of those do. Its what cowards to, Yoichi.” She added, her calm expression gaining a small frown then. Shizu shook her head then, biting her tongue when it wanted to roll off comments about their father to Yoichi. That would be too cruel on him. As well as herself. The death of their father both affected them greatly. But both in very different ways. From Shizu’s point of view on their farther would never ever change. He would always be her Papa. Nothing would change that. “Don’t worry, Yoichi. I don’t need you to baby sit me anymore, I’m not five.” She said, using that tone that would tell Yoichi this conversation was over. “I’ll keep the painting for safe keeping. No one is going to think twice about it after the painter makes a better work of art.” Shizu explained as she began to walk with small steps past her brother. “Now are we done, Yoichi?”
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Post by ∴♪WolfurChickϗ on Feb 13, 2010 3:01:24 GMT -5
Yoichi glared at his sister. "My getta way was not sloppy!" He just wouldnt let things go. "Nobody saw my face. And even if they did, atleast it isn't painted on some stupid paper!" He clentched his teeth, forming a fist out of anger, though he would secretly never throw one at his sister. "That painting is hideous anyway. Art is such a waste of time." He mumbled one last time before turning and beginning to walk away.
He was headed towards the same place, but he wanted to leave first, so that they didnt have to walk together. He HAD been planning on keeping the painting, and black mailing her, but after their little conversation, he just found her too annoying to deal with, so he let her keep it. She had a much higher appreciation for art than himself anyway. All he would have done with it was burn it.
He glanced around, making sure no one had been watching, that no one had been following them. Then, when he was sure that the coast was clear, he disapeared into the family home, walking past his family members straight to his own little room, which hadn't changed since he was born, unlike most everyone else, who had been given a bigger room. They always told him that he hadn't quite grown up yet, so they refused to give him a grown up room, or even a bed at that. He layed down on the old, sunken in mattress, his legs hanging down with no room on top.
"Stupid painting." He started mumbling, much like a disapointed teenager. "Stupid Shizu." He sat up and carefully took his shoes off, then placed them carefully under his bed. When he layed back down, he turned his head to stare at the wall. In the wood of the wall was a rather large cracked dent, where he had punched the wall after learning news of his dead father. He growled and rolled away from it, staring into the rest of his dark and lonely room.
"Stupid Yuichi."
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ᴍoᴎnster
Newbie
he ate my heart. he a-a-a-ate my heart out.
Posts: 36
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Post by ᴍoᴎnster on Feb 13, 2010 3:45:07 GMT -5
day two of routine Weather. There wasn’t such a thing in Nain Taiyou. There fore, no need for a weather channel. There was no cloudy with a chance of rain. Or bright sunny days for a week. Every day was the same. Sometimes a little bit colder or a little bit warm and sometimes pipes leaked and created the effects of rain. Yes. But the village never changed. That was its routine.
Shizu’s routine was the same. She had woken up, trained, trained and trained some more. Gotten dressed with her vintage wardrobe, prepared weapons just incase and studied her notes until she would speak them off by heart. But this time she gave her self some time. Leaning againsted the chest full of weapons and her assassination cloths and watching the painting she had temporarily placed at the foot of her bed. Looking over the blending of the blurred colors and the reflection the artist had portrayed her as with a small twitch of a smile on her pink lips. The assassin was glad she had stolen it from her brothers grasp who had stolen it from the artist's. Not only because it hid her mistake, but because it was a work of art. And she was apart of it. But her routine caught up with her, she slid it underneath her bed and out of site. Quickly swooping up her bag and school items before leaving her room and locking it behind her.
Shizu’s day was full of knowledge and note taking. Learning all there was to learn about the world above and the world that hid under the skin of each pale person in the lecture room. Shizu kept her position as top of the class, in the front row. Her hand never got hand cramps, so her hand always held a pen. Always writing notes. Numbering each page at the right corner. Always making sure her desk was tidy. And from time to time arranging the messy cluster of pens on the other students desk beside her. Obsessive-compulsive disorder was a monster.
Her routine still continued, and she found a book all about weather and natural disasters in the library. The old lady’s face wrinkling once again when Shizu shut a book too loud. That lady should turn her hearing aide down. Normally if Shizu began to read a book, she would borrow it. Read it. And learn it off by heart. It was routine. But this time she returned her book on the weather above ground. And stole away books of artists. Wondering if it would give her a better understanding of the artists routine or how he painted works like the one he had made of her.
It didn’t really program into Shizu’s mind that she was walking right into times square and the artist would be there. She couldn’t help but feel guilty to know she had one of his beloved paintings. But he wouldn’t know she was there today. She would blend in. Sneak around his gaze and the other thirty two who watched. She couldn’t risk more attention, Yoichi was right. Even if Shizu didn’t want to admit it.
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Post by ∴♪WolfurChickϗ on Feb 13, 2010 4:13:30 GMT -5
Today, Kyle wanted to try out his new element. He waited in the town square, but not with his easle. Today, he was sitting on a bench, hidden under a red hoodie, even his bright oranger hair invisable from the others. In his hand, he held a notepad with canvas paper. It wasn't as big as his regular canvas, but if he wanted to truly follow this girl, he had to be able to pic up his easle and move it, and so he brought with him his note pad.
It was bigger than most people's notepads, but atleast it wasn't an easle. Today, there were no crowds watching him paint. There was no bright haired painter in the square. Today, it appeared as though there was just a hodded guy taking notes on a bench. He kept his eyes intense on the crowd, picking through people. Every now and then he would see a bit of black clothes and think "That must be her!" But it would turn out to be some man in a suit, or a child playing with a new costume for a birthday party. He even noticed a few people standing in the middle of the square, confused, and unknowing what to do next. Without a painter to watch, their routines were broken and dazed.
And then he spotted her. It was much more difficult to spot her this time. She seemed to almost be hiding in the crowd, books in hand. Kyle smiled as he pulled out a very small paint brush and a tiny travel pallet of colored paints. Quickly, without hesitation, he began to paint her, his brush defying logic as it seemed to move with almost a mind of its own. It would dip into the light green paint to highlight her hair, and then he would wipe it off quickly with his hand and some spit. Then he would dip it into the grey to give her clothes more of a tone, and then he would wipe it off, and then he would dip it into the silver to draw out her eyes.
But she was moving too quickly with the crowd. If he wasn't careful, he would lose her. He had to follow her. And so he stood from his seat, following the crowd from a distance as he continued painting.
He painted the crowd. All people in a hurry, wearing different clothes, of different heights, some men, some women, but he painted all their faces blank. Then he painted the element in the middle of the painting. A dark shadow in a crowd of yellow duckies. A beautiful, perfectly painted shadow. He smeared some of the paint around the edges of the people to give them a look that time has stopped, but he kept the element untouched. It was as if she could turn and look at him at any time.
He smiled as the painting was coming along, and then he weaved into the crowd to try to get a sense of how it felt to be squeezed among them, and he added that feeling into the painting. He put all of his heart into it.
Then a voice behind him. "Wow, that is quite good sonny. Wait.. are you the painter from the square?" An old man asked him. Kyle brought the pad to his chest, being careful not to smudge the paint on his shirt. The man spoke quietly, but it was enough to bring a little attention to him.
"The painter from the square? I... I only doodle." He tried to assure the man, hoping he would just leave him be. "Oh that was no doodle young man! You have pure talent!"
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ᴍoᴎnster
Newbie
he ate my heart. he a-a-a-ate my heart out.
Posts: 36
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Post by ᴍoᴎnster on Feb 13, 2010 5:06:20 GMT -5
Shizu had only stopped for mere seconds as she reached the times square. Silver gaze falling to where the artist had his small crowd of fans the day before. But he wasn’t there. His routine was ruined now. It made Shizu frown. Now she could not sneak past and look at this art. She pictured the art work under her bed and wanted to see more. She could see she wasn’t the only one who was confused with his whereabouts. But if they saw her, they would be reminded of the amazing picture he had drawn the day before. So she began to walk again. Slipping quietly through the crowd, not wanting the artists absence to disturbed her routine like it did with his fans.
But something else stirred her routine, she could feel eyes on her once more. Feel the hair on the back of her neck rise and tickle her soft lime hair. Maybe this was the person from the day before. Why did they follow her. Watch her? Was she an intense part of their routine like hiding in the crowd was for her. Shizu craned her neck a little to the left, then a little to the right. Searching for this un known source of stalking eyes. Searching for the reason she was rubbing the hairs on the back of her neck. Her hair gently swishing from side to side when she turned her head one way than the other, with the movement around other people who got in the way of her constant walking pace of small little delicate steps. Maybe if she upped her pace a little she would loose this stalker in the mist of pale faces. Maybe if the weather showed in Nain Taiyou she would have the advantage of vanishing in the rain or disappearing in large swarms of people under a sunny sky.
But when the faint notion of someone calling attention to the painter, her pace slowed a little. So he was here. But he was hiding. She was also hiding. But she had a real excuse. What was his to hide from the people that loved his art that he loved. Her small steps had become smaller and she only took one from time to time as she glanced towards the bright haired artist over her shoulder. The thought came to her that maybe, maybe he was the one following her. Maybe he wanted to paint more of her. Shizu wished he could. But Yoichi’s words from the day before echoed softly in her mind. She could never let herself be noticed. She wanted to be head of the clan. And would do anything to get that position.
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Post by ∴♪WolfurChickϗ on Feb 13, 2010 5:22:53 GMT -5
Mumurs in the crowd. People started to stop and look, but Kyle could not stop. He tried to get out of their grasp, finally able to see her again. His took a few more strokes with his brush as he was almost finished with his painting. He had finished her face, and everything else but the smudge on the faceless other people in the crowd. Then he looked up and sat her eyes. Her appearingly silver eyes, perfectly contrasted, just like in his painting.
Panik rose in his mind. Here he was, in more trouble than before. He let his painting get ahead of his job, and now the element was staring at him. He was supposed to be keeping a secret, but how could he now? She looked as if she didnt want anyone following her, but how could he not follow her? He would die if he couldnt paint her.
Before she had a chance to run off, he pulled down his hood, revieling his bright orange hair. "Wait, please!" he called out to her, hoping she wouldn't run off. "If now isn't good, meet me on the dead end street. Please." He quietly begged her. Dead end street, ofcourse, being the road that the unliveable houseswere on. The rest of the crowd was too busy asking to see his new painting to hear or awknowledge what he was saying.
He began consumed by the crowd, but he would not let them get a glance at the painting. Not until it was finished... he needed to finish it... it still needed more emotion. And so just as it dried, he pushed it up against his chest and pushed some of the people away. "I have nothing for you today!" He called out to the crowd. "I am in a bit of a slump! Besides, don't you all have jobs to do?!"
With silent protests and a few grunts, the crowd left him and continued on their normal way. But Kyle waited. He couldnt let the element get away, and so he waited for her answer.
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ᴍoᴎnster
Newbie
he ate my heart. he a-a-a-ate my heart out.
Posts: 36
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Post by ᴍoᴎnster on Feb 13, 2010 6:16:52 GMT -5
The panic of his eyes reflected in the reflection of her silver eyes. And it was the dead give away that her hypothesis was right. How he was following her with paint brush in hand. If it wasn’t something that would lead to the clans discovery and maybe her death, she would be flattered to the end of the earth and beyond that this orange haired artist wanted to paint her so bad. But still, to let him so close would be a nightmare if Yoichi discovered. He would black mail her till the end of time with this and would surely become head of the Tanaka clan.
She went to take a few large, un even, steps to escape this artist. But he called out and it stopped Shizu in her tracks. She should of just kept walking. Yet there was this feeling she couldn’t help but bare for the artist. Respect. The assassin respected him for his talents. Like an assassin would respect another assassin for their skills. His quiet begging took Shizu to surprise, never had she been begged to. Apart from the horrid people who she was sent to kill. Who got down on their knees and prayed for you not to kill them like pigs going to slaughter. But Shizu wasn’t going to kill this person for his begging, or for anything else.
The ninja’s lips never opened to speak as she watched the crowd of his fans beg just as he had. Beg to see his new piece of art. The piece of art that was probably of me. I could only imagine how beautiful this one was. Shizu wished he’d pull it away from his chest so she could see it for herself. But then again. She prayed he didn’t. Then another crowd of people would know her face. If it kept up the whole village would know her.
When the crowds backed away at the orange haired artists rejection to see his art(which in that time she could of probably snuck away if not distracted), Shizu realized he was waiting for her answer. She didn’t even known the answer. This was so off routine! This had never happened before. And when she finally discovered she had her own routine. It was being messed up, it messed up her concentration too. It took her a while to find her voice with messed up concentration. If she spoke now, she would risk people learning her face. She never stayed still enough for people to soak in her expressions, eyes, lips, full appearance. Doing that would be worse than being painted. “Dead end street.” Shizu gently nodded her head as she finally spoke. Maybe that was suppose to come out differently. Like; “I’ll see you on dead end street.” But there was the gist of it so you understood what she meant.
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Post by ∴♪WolfurChickϗ on Feb 13, 2010 6:35:36 GMT -5
Kyle found himself smiling. The crowd completly died off, and not a one had seen his painting, except for the old man, who had not really gotten a complete look at it before. It was the first time he ever care that someone saw his painting before it was finished. It was as if he felt that he HAD to perfect it before showing it to anyone, as if people just wouldnt understand it until it was done. But now, with the people gone, he pulled it away from his chest and lifted his brush once more.
With quick, careful strokes, he added a gleam in her eyes, and teeny tiny creases to the sides of her mouth. It was hardly any detail, but at last, it was done, and it was just as beautiful as the last, if not more. The element in his painting became a person. That person had a face, a past, a present, and a future. Just one look at his painting showed just that. It was as if, out of the whole crowd, all of Nain Taiyou and its residents, only that one girl was important. And Kyle smiled.
Her words echoed in his ears. Never had he thought that those lips could part and that sound could come out of them. Before, she was nothing but a painting, an element, an interesting piece... now, she was a human. One girl in all the world, and Kyle had her all to himself. No one else could paint her. The thought was so uplifting in fact, that Kyle forgot about his job. He stopped watching people. He quit worrying. There was one thing on his mind at this time... he needed to paint.
***
Kyle stood on dead end street, his notebook in hand and a brush tucked away on his ear for safe keeping. He kept his eyes on his newest painting. As artists do often, he looked for anything to critique, something to note that needed fixing, but there was nothing. He could only admire. Admire, and wait.
He would be breaking all the rules. He would be talking to somebody one on one. He would be leaving his job behind temporarily and he would forget who he really was. Right now, he needed to meet her. He still didn't want to know too much about her... but he had to meet her, had to see her face up close. He needed to see her eyes sparkle and her lip quiver. He needed to see just how her hair rested against her ear, or how her eyebrows complimented the rest of her face. He had to soak her all up, so that he may never forget her. He was an artist, and he had found his canvas.
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ᴍoᴎnster
Newbie
he ate my heart. he a-a-a-ate my heart out.
Posts: 36
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Post by ᴍoᴎnster on Feb 13, 2010 7:13:33 GMT -5
Her routine caught up with her quickly as he allowed her to vanish. Although her routine had a twist of lemon. Going home would still occur, but only for few seconds. She came through the door of her home in her routine fashion. Informing one of the youngest of her cousins she had forgotten to return a book to the library if any of the older Tanaka’s questioned her absence. The little boy didn’t question his role model and smiled with rosy cheeks up at Shizu who playfully pinched them to make him grow a sour face. For her protection she kept her poison daggers with her as she dropped her folder and book bag on her old oak work table in her room. Glancing to the art work under her bed, just to make sure it was still there and Yoichi hadn’t snuck past her locked door to find his item for black mailing.
Like her brother, she knew Nain Taiyou like it was the face of their farther. Something that was burnt into her mind and was there everything the blinked for long enough. When her body slipped back out the family home she took the shortest route to Dead end street. Her short steps became longer, and turned into bounding leaps. Like how a little female deer would run. Or like that graceful and free white bird who was finding it a little bit easier to move in its cage of Routine. Shizu slipped around corners, climbed or jumped over broken walls of old buildings. It made her ponder on when her family house would be rubble. It was old enough as it was. Soon it would fall. And they would have to find somewhere else nice and quiet to live where no one would stick their nose into Tanaka business.
Yoichi would be enraged at her, grandmother would be enraged at her, mother would be enraged at her. Maybe even her little cousin, who knew by now not to be so foolish and allow the family to come after curiosity or some emotion close to that. But the painter didn’t need to know. He could know she was a student of forensic science, a high ranking, top of the class student who lived in a very traditional family house hold. Shizu’s breath came out in a whoosh of air when she stopped, her ballet pumps making her feet hurt a little. She was not use to running in such shoes. Wishing she’d changed into her other shoes, so comfy and built for the routine of running after assassinations. She came out from a side ally down dead end street. Wondering what this street would of looked like if it was pelting down with rain or engulfed in warm sun light. Maybe the weathers routine would some how change in Nain Taiyou like her routine had and there would be sun for the pale citizens.
Her silver eyes gazed around the dim and rather grim road with its poor neglected buildings. Shizu’s black leggings and cream rag doll loose dress making her melt with the neutral colors of the street. This made it easy to find the artist, his bright orange hair gave him away. The assassin blew out another whoosh of air as her head fell. Scuffing her ballet shoes towards his direction. Shizu didn’t even understand why she was here. But she was, and there was this feeling of nerves, both uneasy and excited, turning her stomach to see this artist once more.
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