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Post by Arashiyama Kiyoshi on Jul 7, 2009 22:00:39 GMT -5
Setting off alone, perched carefully on the railing of an arched bridge, a foot braced against it and his sketchpad resting on the incline of his thigh as he worked. He was alone, oddly, and had wanted to be alone for once. Each time he brought his pencil to paper, long lines pulled into a startlingly detailed rendition of the hillside he faced towards. His expression as he did so was distant, neutral, lips quirked just ever so slightly as he seemed to look through what he was working on.
There wouldn't be much time left, would there?
He watched a particular young woman as she sat on a grassy knoll, clearly just enjoying the fair weather. There was nothing interesting about her, not a single thing, even if she was rather pretty. She made him sick, with her cute heart-shaped face upturned to the sun as she smiled.
Soon, everything was going to end.
When he glanced back at sketch, he realized that what he'd put to paper wasn't a thing like he'd hoped it would be. The twist of the trees, even the bend of the grass, everything was just wrong. It looked just like the scene before him, really, but what was he doing wasting his time on something like this.
It would be nothing but another dream.
"My my..." Kiyoshi murmured to himself as he continued to work, the soft half-smile on his lips never once giving him away to the world. "You don't understand it at all, do you?"
Just like everyone else, there and gone again.
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Post by Ikidomari Michi on Jul 7, 2009 22:14:12 GMT -5
It was a terrible shame.
That was what was passing through her mind as she headed through the park. Things would have been much easier if Kyoutei hadn't managed to find herself a boyfriend. Ah, well, that was life, and she could work with this. In fact, she thought, as she smiled to herself, this might actually make things just that more interesting.
She made her way to one of the arched bridges overlooking the park and paused, seeing that someone was already there. He didn't seem to notice her, so Michi came to a stop and took a moment to look at him. In the back of her mind, she noted with mild annoyance that this guy actually managed to look more feminine than she did.
And that made her want to bother him.
Glancing down at his drawing, she arched an eyebrow. "You know, it's not the pencil that's at fault for the fact that you can't draw."
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Post by Arashiyama Kiyoshi on Jul 7, 2009 22:45:16 GMT -5
Cold blue eyes cut to the side as an unfamiliar voice spoke up, but his anger--sudden, violent fury, more like--at the rude interruption didn't reach his delicate features. That faint not-quite-smile widened slightly as he took the other in, apparently a young man his own age. What a bother, the uncultured and likely unwashed masses were about and in his personal space.
An amused sound rose in his throat as he tapped the pencil against the paper lightly.
"Hmmm, but isn't that an awful shame," he replied just a little too calmly in his customary Kyoto-ben, though an almost saccharine note rang false. "You poor dear, it just must be so hard on you--not being able to see clearly and all."
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Post by Ikidomari Michi on Jul 8, 2009 18:02:11 GMT -5
"No thanks." Michi raised her hand with a slight smirk, glad to see that it seemed she had bothered him somewhat. Even if he didn't really show it, she could still tell, it was just barely hinted to in his voice.
"I think I'm fine with not seeing the world twisted the way you do. It must be awful for you, rather." Taking a seat next to him, it seemed as if she didn't intend to go anywhere for quite some time. This seemed an amusing way to kill some time, after all, and who was she to pass such a chance up?
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Post by Arashiyama Kiyoshi on Jul 9, 2009 2:30:26 GMT -5
Just who did this guy think he was, really?
Kiyoshi might have bristled just a little bit, particularly when the other took a seat closer than he would have liked. Naturally, closer meant something along the lines of within fifty meters, but nonetheless it was bothersome. He wasn't going to give ground, oh no, and he certainly wouldn't let this plebeian fool run him off like that.
It was a challenge, a subtle push, and the blond found being stubborn about it the only way he could push back without being crass.
"Mmm?" he hummed noncommitally as he looked back at his paper. With a casual nonchalance, he flipped the page to a fresh one. Bringing the lead down, he glanced at the young man and began to sketch. Something about him was troubling, likely just the fact that Kiyoshi never could take having a critic speak to him easily. "Oh, do go on. Now you've made me curious."
Hideous, really, but it certainly wasn't for a lack of talent that it was. Twisted? Call his art twisted, would he? It wasn't him, it was the subject's fault. Always their fault, but this sketch came to him far easier than the other.
How very odd.
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Post by Ikidomari Michi on Jul 14, 2009 8:21:00 GMT -5
"Hm?" Michi arched an eyebrow, glancing over toward the boy, taking note of the fact that his subject of drawing had changed. Well now, was he going to try and draw her? That would be interesting. She had to admit that she was mildly curious how she looked through this boy's eyes. "Ah, you aren't trying to draw me by any chance?"
Shrugging her shoulders, she gave an amused look at him. "Ah, well now. Twisted indeed is your artwork. It shows in your pencil strokes, how you move it across the paper." She laughed a bit then. "Then again, what do I know about art? I admit that I'm not a critic of any kind. Perhaps it is I who am twisted, not you."
"Then again, perhaps it might be both of us."
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Post by Arashiyama Kiyoshi on Jul 15, 2009 0:35:42 GMT -5
Twisted, twisted, twisted...
It stopped being infuriating about the same time he realized it was rather ludicrous. Like a switch had been flipped, his unwarranted rage was dissipating and quickly being replaced with nothing more than irritation at the inconvenience.
Kiyoshi was starting to wonder if this was a person, or a pull string doll with a very limited vocabulary. A little bit of that fixed smile slipped by small measures as he listened to the other prattle on in a faux philosophical matter about the nature of what or who might be twisted. He tossed his hair with his free hand in a decidedly flippant gesture. What would he even care about all this nonsense?
That's all it was really.
Unfortunately, it seemed he'd brought these low-class pretentious rambling on himself. Some incredibly childish part of himself was egging him on to just keep on retaliating in passive-aggressive ways as his sketch took form. One of those little sailor-suits that haunted his dreams, that'd be just a fabulous addition to this buffoon's image, wouldn't it?
Oh, that was something he couldn't go resisting in the least. A swirl of the pencil, a dash, a twist had a little collar imposed over the young man that was his current subject. It was turning out to be quite the exacting likeness, the ridiculous addition of decidedly feminine garments aside.
"Oh, honey," he drawled, glancing over at his unwanted companion with what might have seemed like curiosity, managing only by a feat of what had to be superhuman effort not to let a giggle escape him. "Playing the philosopher... that sort of thing only attracts girls, you know."
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Post by Ikidomari Michi on Jul 21, 2009 19:25:38 GMT -5
"Oh, then pardon me!" Michi laughed, a wicked smile on her face. "I mistook you for a girl, silly me. I guess I just haven't met enough incredibly flamboyant pretty boys in my life to know the difference." She paused, seeming to consider something for a long moment.
"You know, provided you're not just in denial of your own gender? Then again, maybe you're just as amazingly gay as you look. It would explain a lot." She looked unbothered by the man's um, interesting choice of clothing for the image- after all, at the end of the day, she was a girl, even if you could barely tell.
She was a bit put off by the fact that he had chosen a senshi fuku, but she decided it was nothing. After all, the Sailor Senshi of old were still well known and idolized, it wasn't that unusual that one of their outfits should pop up when trying to reach for something feminine.
"I mean, you do seem to have a thing for crossdressing."
The irony, of course, did not escape her.
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Post by Administration on Jul 21, 2009 21:21:40 GMT -5
Raising both of her arms towards the sky in a stretching manner, Okibi groaned lightly as her blue eyes moved across Ueno Park. It was a nice day, much too nice to spend it sitting inside in front of a television or at a computer desk. Once she had finished her stretch, Okibi lowered both of her hands and ran them lightly through her short dark hair. The sixteen year old teenager had just gotten her hair cut and she was very pleased with the sassy outcome. After a few moments, the girl lowered her hands and shoved them into the pockets of her blue jeans as she came up on a bridge in which two people were standing.
As the redhead came closer, she realized after a bit of eavesdropping, that they were arguing with each other. Well, it wasn't so much arguing as it was taking turnings attempting to insult each other. A small smirk tugged at the corners of her glossed lips as she paused at the foot of the bridge, listening to their exchanged words. Okibi raised her eyebrow as she listened to the one with the dark hair pretty much insult the blonde's beauty.
Okibi stepped forward, placing her hands on the edge of the bridge as her blue eyes flickered between the two of them. She took a moment to glance at the blonde's drawing, and then grinned up to him. "Oh honey, you're just sour because you don't look as drop dead gorgeous as he does. Look at you, with those disgusting green pony tail.. things, if you can even call them that. You look washed out, frumpy, and caught in the middle of an extremely large dilemma that's called insecurity with your own self so you have to approach random strangers and try to make them look stupid to make yourself feel better." Okibi placed her hands on her hips now.
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Post by Arashiyama Kiyoshi on Jul 21, 2009 22:13:07 GMT -5
There was a faint creak of wood as Kiyoshi gripped his pencil almost tight enough to crack it when the fool opened his mouth again Just who did this guy think he was? And why would this idiot think he was gay? It was ridiculous, but certainly not even close to enough to push him into slipping up too badly. That feigned civility, admittedly passive aggressive in its nature, remained in place despite the fact that the tide of his temper was slowly starting to creep back in. It was, however, slowed by the fact that this was a scenario once could only consider positively surreal.
Not that he wouldn't wish fondly for a chance to make a very firm point. People with no manners, well, they had no place in this city. His musings were all that allowed a young woman to come upon them without his noticing until she rested her hands on the bridge railing. He blinked in surprise, glancing up to meet her gaze as she started in on the most amusing tirade.
Really, he couldn't have said it better himself!
It earned a laugh from the artist, at least, the blond bringing a hand up to cover his lips in a false gesture as if it had just managed to slip past him before dropping it back to steady his sketchpad. His nails, attractively done in a stormy blue french manicure, drummed once on the paper before he'd gathered himself enough to insert a smooth comment.
"Come now, cutie. It isn't as if we could all understand haute couture," he murmured with a sudden devilish little smirk to the newcomer. It was gone as soon as it had come, leaving question as to whether it had been just a trick of the light that he'd reacted. Instead, as if he wasn't drawing his obnoxious companion in drag, he queried, "But I must agree a bit. Why, whatever could be inspiring all this malice? We're not even acquainted."
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