Post by Jamie on Jul 29, 2005 16:37:26 GMT -5
// This is simply a Student / Tutor roleplay. Im looking for a literate / advanced roleplayer to take the place of a more Dominant, Flirt tutor. Danchu.
-Prods Leland with a stick- Har! //
'Let them say were crazy
I don't care about that
Put Your Hand In My Hand Baby
Don't Ever Look Back
At The World Around Us
Just fall apart
Maybe we can make it if were heart to heart '
Vacant expression stared out the bay windows at the far top of the house. The attic room, the most treasured room in the house for the boy who's fingers grasped the windowledge, staring through the crack between the black curtains. Windowsill littered with plushie toys in all shapes and ages, some tattered and torn, others smiling, brand new.
The one object that stood out with a box of mahogany, shiny and shimmering when it caught the light. The small music box played a very well known melody, Moonlight Sonata played softly on days when he was bored, and he'd watch the ballarina twirls round and round with her elegance and grace.
A sigh left his lips, leaving the windowsill and trailing over to his bed, were he sat slowly, leaning back into the black cotton sheets.
It was a normal room, posters lined the walls, along with picture frames filled with smiling faces and beautiful people with their seperate smiles with different meanings. The original dark pink shade hidden, with only spots and cracks free between the posters.
The only items that clearly stood out was the Music Box, the pink silken sheet draped at the bottom of his bed and the guitar balanced in the corner.
It was clearly new, either that or the boy never used it. It was a shiny black, with hot pink crosses over it with swirly writing with the well known line 'Im Not Okay' sprawled down the side and the neat swirly name of 'Violet' placed in the corner.
It was a very treasured piece, hardly ever played, but when it was it was played properly, handled delicately, like a national treasure.
What was the boy waiting for?
He was failing dreadfully in Chemistry, Atons hated him, Periodic Tables confused him and overall he genereally disliked the subject. Yet there was an unknown form of beauty in all those F's and E's he had written in thick red sharpie across his work, and those crosses that jeered at him to do better. So he was assigned a tutor.
He was assured that it didn't mean he was stupid, he was also assured that it would help him drastically, he wasn't bothered, he knew he needed the help, he just was too, shy, or stubborn to ask for it.
Violet never found making friends easy, and the friends he did have he always managed to loose, there was something wrong with him, compared to the Violet in the pictures splashed around the room, clinging onto pretty boys with heavy eyeliner and girls with smile on their painted red lips, he didn't seem to smile anymore, and the smiles he did do were fake.
He found that his temper contributed to the fact he had no friends, he'd flip easily, get annoyed if he couldn't do things. He was taking tablets after tablets promising 'A Calmer, heathier Lifestyle!' and ' A StressFree Day!' Yet they didn't work.
He was now taking only four tablets, a little pink one to keep him calm, a white cylinder shaped one to keep depression away, an orange one when he felt angry and a green one for his headaches.
He wasn't addicted, and he didn't really need them, over the past few years his anger had subsided dramatically, causing him less headaches and a nicer person to be around. He only got angry when he had a good reason to be.
Slender fingers slid over his face, rubbing softly, trying to keep himself away before he sat up again.
Now all readers like to understande a characters history, but they also settle on apperence first.
Graced with milky white skin and a clear complextion Violet was a very pretty, no, beautiful boy.
His hair was always soft and a delight to run your fingers through it, which always caused a good reaction from him, since he liked his hair, he prided himself on his hair. It hung in his eyes, and around his head, all different lengths, styled and straight with aid of the straightners which were still carelessly left on and perched ontop of his bookshelf.
Eyes were a dark brown, contrasting against his light skin, always outlined in a band of black with occasional swipes of colour across his eyelides. Today he'd settled on just simple black eyeliner to define his eyes.
Lips were thin and slightly chapped, ridged from the amount of chewing he did, whenever he was nervous it delighted him to chew and bite on his lip, drawing blood which filled his mouth with a raw metallic taste.
Teeth were white, straight thanks to the braces he wore as a child, cheekbones high, nose small yet pointed with small ears to match.
The stretchers in his ears were black, roughly a size 8, the only piercing on his person.
His body was lithe and feminine, a thin boy which sharp jutting bones which stuck out from his skin. Hands contained boney fingers, wrists were also boney and his arms thin, with a light covering of dark hair, not too much, no too less. Ribs stuck out, meeting the hollows of his hips which jutted out dangerously, showing just how thin he was. Legs were thin, ankles boney to match his wrists with dainty feet.
Clothes todaycontained a tee, with a set of dancing penguins on an orange background, tight against his body, outlining the bones only his skin usually did.
Feminine styled jeans hugged every curve, every muscle of the boys legs, until they reached his knees, were they fanned out of feet clad in black socks, toes wriggling inside their confinement.
The music playing was soft, and was once his treasured Starting Line CD had now changed to Taking Back Sunday, a wise choice for the 'Emo Boy' who swung his legs off the side of the bed before sitting up.
He was suddenly faced with a moral dillema. He was told his tutor would be male, yet what would happen if said male was one of those science geeks, not to be harsh but the images flashing in the boys mind contained huge glasses and large amounts of acne.
On the other hand, what would happen if say he happened to be very Beautiful? Wouldn't that just distract Violet more by drooling over the boy, not the work?
No, Violet must not think.
Thinking was too hard and thinking was causing him a headache.
He'd wait now, until his mother shouted that somebody was at the door and he'd be forced to go great whomever it was, science geek or beautiful boy, he seemed partially ready.
