|
|
Post by evan anthony marino on Jan 30, 2010 22:32:17 GMT -5
it was way too early to be up. the sun was just about to rise and evan had not slept at all last night. he was so sick of staring at his wall, trying to sleep, when it was obvious his body just refused to do so. so after hours of counting sheep and watching the cosby show re-runs on tv, evan had finally decided to give up and go for a walk. he hadn't seen the sun rise in so long and who knows, maybe he'd get some inspiration. he could have been amused all night with playing guitar, but he wasn't going to be an ass and wake up his entire house. it just wasn't very nice and evan's mother would probably come in and smash his guitar against the wall. the woman was only about 5'2, but she was scary. not even evan would mess with that.
he slipped on a hoodie and jeans, not bothering to look make his hair look nice. who was going to be up at sunset? he grabbed his dean acoustic and slowly walked down the stairs, careful to not wake anyone up. though he did wake up one house member, his dog, nanook. as evan's hand reached for the front door knob, the dog whined in protest, wanting to come with him. evan made a "shh" sound and exited outside. normally he would have, but nanook would have freaked out and started making a racket, excited at the fact that he was going to be going for a walk.
the best thing about living in santa monica, was the fact that even lived about two seconds from the beach. evan soon found his way onto the warm sand and settled himself close to the water, but far enough away so that he wouldn't get soaked. evan felt oddly calm, sitting on the beach watching the sun rise, guitar resting on his knees. who could be mad at a mild bout of insomnia, when you were looking at something so serene. he plucked at the acoustics strings, not really doing much of anything. he was too distracted at the moment. but who knows, maybe inspiration would hit soon.
|
|
|
|
Post by abigale charis williams on Jan 31, 2010 0:28:03 GMT -5
  *---it sounds tacky, but i'm hopeful;T H E R E ' S A REASON THAT THE WORLD TURNS R O U N D ,.--------------------------------------------------[/size] Insomnia. It had never been a problem before, but now it woke Abigale Williams at impossible hours, refusing to let her out of its clutches and back into peaceful sleep. Abby had lay for hours, staring at the white ceilings of her dorm, unable to fall back asleep, until the moment when she could no longer stand her memories. It was still dark when Abby's bare feet touched the cold surface of the floor, a slight shiver running up the young woman's spine as her toes recoiled at the change in temperature.
It was better than being trapped in her memories, her mind replaying the many mistakes over and over again; sorting through all the things she could have done to fix the situation with a simple word or an action. It was like torture. No, it was torture. Abby would escape it the way she normally did: by pulling on a quick outfit tying her hair into a messy bun and making sure that the eyeliner she had left on from the night before didn't look too crappy. Her destination was to be the beach, where she found that watching the waves always seemed would calm her down, distracting her from the torture of memories; making her body feel as if it was getting the rest it deserved--provided it was able to receive coffee in return for the service it was given.
Abigale departed the building, iPod in hand as the first light broke through the starry night sky, breaking indigo with a shot of pink, shunning the moon. It was early, much too early, Abigale decided before drowning out the few sounds of the morning with the sound of The Spill Canvas. It felt like no time before the blonde found herself at the beach, stopping the song mid-stream in favour of the music of pounding waves.
There was no one on the beach. It at least an hour too early for the best of the joggers, and the dog walkers wouldn't arrive until the joggers were finished with their energizing morning runs. Abigale was left to herself, choosing to walk on the hard sand closest to the waterline, avoiding the tide as much as possible. She would walk down the beach to her favourite log--the one moulded perfectly for her back--where she would be able to observe the morning routines of the early wakers and watch the pounding of the pacific ocean.
Breathing the salty air, hands in the pockets of her almost useless short sleeved hoodie, Abby continued to walk down the beach absently, taking as much concentration as possible in order to avoid thinking about anything. That was probably why she only noticed the man sitting by the water with a guitar lying unused on his knees. She vaguely recognized him as she approached, aware that he went to Concord. She had known his name before, but she had forgotten it by now, likely from avoidance. The truth was that he scared her, what with his darker sense of style and his intimidating demure.
Abigale nodded to the half-stranger, an awkward "good morning" escaping from her lips before she could stop it. Abby was about to continue to walk along before she noticed that her log was lay about three meters away from the man. Swearing under her breath, Abby cursed the guitar player, trying to think of a situation in which she could settle down on it. She didn't want to continue to walk down the beach, lack of sleep and caffeine preventing the notion from occurring, no matter how refreshing it might feel later. Abby let out an audible sigh and looked around before finally choosing to settle down cross legged beside her log stealer, removing her shoes with ease and letting the cold sand run between her toes. "You must go to Concord--I've seen you around the halls. I'm Abigale." Abby's tone was not questioning as it might have been, but elegant and almost formal. It was what she used to draw attention to herself, remaining proud despite audible weariness.
Abigale never introduced herself as Abby. It was a name reserved only for close friends. This situation was much too awkward (not to mention random) for her to use such a nickname. Besides, the man she sat beside quite frankly scared her. The only reason she was sitting beside him now was because if she pestered him enough, he might leave. --------------------------------------------------
TAG: EVAN; WORDS: 739; OUTFIT: <3; NOTE: ugh, such a long post. i couldn't get anything done in something shorter! x]; LYRICS: DARK ON FIRE by TURIN BRAKES; TEMPLATE CREDIT: ZOMG ! ITS RORA ! @ CAUTION !
[/size][/blockquote] |
|
|
|
Post by evan anthony marino on Jan 31, 2010 15:43:40 GMT -5
evan continued to pick at his strings, the sounds of iron and wine coming from his acoustic. he loved iron and wine. it was the perfect music for an early morning sunset. the lead singers voice could melt evan and his guitar playing was perfect. evan soon found himself slipping into a "guitar" coma, losing himself to his surroundings. he had perfected the tapping to the song a long time ago and he didn't need to look at the strings to be able to play. he had his guitar, a perfect view of the sunset and life seemed to be wonderful, for the moment at least. evan was so lost in his music, he didn't hear the sound of someone coming up behind him. it wasn't until the girl physically sat down next to him, that evan stopped playing guitar abruptly. what was she doing here? didn't she need her beauty sleep?
he was slightly suspicious when the girl said good morning. the girl was very familiar and he had heard about her on numerous occasions. [people can be so loud in class.] but her name was beyond evan. anna? alex? something with an a. "good morning?", evan greeted, still a bit sceptical. this girl had never associated with evan in her life and he was very far down on the popularity list. she was probably just being "friendly", though she didn't look too happy to be near evan in the first place. oh well, if she wanted to be alone, she could easily move herself down the beach, away from evan. he was not going to move. not even an inch.
"yes, sadly i attend concord." ahh. it was abigale. he was sort of kind of close. not really, but he at least had the "a" part correct. "i've seen you before", he said, in a very flat tone. evan was pretty sure he had her in at least two of his classes, but thankfully he sat all the way in the right, back corner. no one noticed him. "i'm evan." he continued with the song, but barely hit the strings so that it played very soft in the background. "do you play?" evan casually asked, using his head to motion to his guitar. maybe if he kept talking to her, she'd run away.
|
|
|
|
Post by abigale charis williams on Jan 31, 2010 22:27:20 GMT -5
*---it sounds tacky, but i'm hopeful;T H E R E ' S A REASON THAT THE WORLD TURNS R O U N D ,.-------------------------------------------------- [/size] Evan. It sounded familiar enough. Abigale shrugged it off, she wouldn't be surprised if she forgot the name once again. If all went according to plan, Abby could have this space to herself and could watch the waves in peace. She needed the log first, however. The log was all a part of the ritual to lull the young woman back into her restful state.
The waves were still grey from lack of full sunlight, and they would likely stay that colour for the better part of the morning. Their white crests crashed onto the shoreline and made Abby's footsteps disappear, as if she had never walked here at all. The soft music of an unfamiliar tune accompanied the sound of the ocean perfectly, but Abby was too distracted by Evan's presence to be able to fully engage her attention to the sea and the sky.
She didn't respond to her companion's comments, preferring to stare into space. She doubted she had any classes with Evan, and it was unlikely that she would have anyway. Abby had her own friends, and their talk took too much attention to listen to--Abby didn't have time to pay attention to losers who scared her.
"Do you play?" Abby shook herself out of her light thoughts, tearing her eyes from the hypnotic ocean. By now, the sky was completely pink, shot through with a bright orange; sky reflecting the far away and still unseen sun. Evan had motioned to his guitar, as if he thought that she was too stupid--or blonde--to understand what he was talking about. All the more reason to try to drive him away.
Abigale undid her messy bun and flipped her hair back, playing on her stereotype. "No, I don't play," she giggled half-heartedly, not enough energy to do much more, "indie puts me to sleep. I prefer it when it's mixed with rock, and for that, one needs much more than a guitar. Besides, I would need to have a talent in playing music; which is most definitely not in my parents' gene pool." Abby imagined her mother singing as she cooked, wincing slightly. It had been more like screeching. Her father had gone through a harmonica stage on the front porch when she was thirteen, forever tainting the memories of that summer. No, music had never run through the family; and thankfully enough, they mostly let their ancient cassette player do the work for them. --------------------------------------------------
TAG: EVAN; WORDS: 410; OUTFIT: <3; NOTE: -- ; LYRICS: DARK ON FIRE by TURIN BRAKES; TEMPLATE CREDIT: ZOMG ! ITS RORA ! @ CAUTION !
[/size][/blockquote] |
|
