— BRING THE RAIN [o]

[arlynn alabaster]

AN EVIL FLOWER BLOOMED ELEGANTLY,
AS IT GREW TO BE ETERNALLY LOVED!
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Ngh... The bright light of the sun's rays gleamed in through the window, emitting a warm, comforting feel to a rather not so comforting atmosphere. Groaning softly, the female adult turned over onto her side in bed and remained in her vulnerable state. Tangled in a mess of long, pink hair she laid there motionless -- as if she had not made that small inaudible sound just now. Her eyes opened only slightly, miniscule slits made of her eyelids as she could just see the bare minimum of what was the dull and boring wall. She closed her eyes for just another moment, taking in as much of this sleepy moment as she could before blinking and opening her eyes once again, now fully seeing that bare colored wall that belonged to her room. Slowly, Arylnn rotated her body a one hundred eighty degrees, her feet meeting the cold wooden floor. The feeling of that floor was a natural feeling, though it was at times too cold to really want to walk on, this was the floor that she walked on for the last twenty-one years of her life. The floor in this room -- plain, dull, almost lifeless -- was the one she had been growing up in for the past twenty one years. Time flys when you're having fun, as they said.

But this fun was not the kind of fun one would expect when dealing with a gang leader and an asylum. No one expected the same kind of fun that happens when you're a person who's lived in the outside world and have had the fun that she ever wished for. There was no cheerful laughing nor happy moments at all; just the resonating screams and the everlasting streak of bloodshed. In this bloody hell, there was no way you could escape that -- in this bloody hell, there was no way she could escape it. It was this small truth that made her cringe at the slightest mention of it, whether it be from surrounding persons or even just herself thinking. She was such a pessimist and probably the only person who could admit to such a trait. With a tentative step, Arlynn removed herself from the bed and walked over to the body mirror that stood at an angle against the opposite wall.

Clad in a simple pair of shorts and a t-shirt that was too big for her, she examined her reflection absentmindedly. Her hair, thought usually tame and straight was a slight mess, slightly ruffled and although she could hardly see them, a few misplaced locks of hair. She raised a hand, her finger lacing a long strand of this hair around her finger and twirled it as if it were so natural to her. Tiredly, she let out a soft sigh and frowned at herself, her lips curling downward slightly. She gave another long look at herself on the mirror, eyes glancing at her appearance before turning to grab the clothes she would usually wear for the day. It was still early, so no one was particularly occupying the bathrooms on the second floor, nor was anyone really awake at this time of day. She was a natural morning bird, waking at the slightest hint of sunlight. Though she did lazy on about in bed for a good while, she was usually awake just a few seconds after opening her eyes; basking in the warmth that the sun rays gave off through the window that was parallel to the bed she slept on. It gave off a very nice feeling, to be bathed in the light of the sun and feel relaxed by it. Honestly, relaxation and comfort were the least of her worries at this stage in life.

Arlynn took a considerable amount of breath as she inhaled deeply, inclining her head up as she craned her neck towards the window. The sun light she had experienced earlier was now faded, light grey clouds now forming outside as a natural spring rain was starting to fall from the sky. She, to be completely honest with herself, was almost looking forward to the morning sun's gleam, though now it would no longer be there until the sky cleared up. And when it would stop, this rain, she had no idea; of course not. It was not as if she were some sort of god who could control trivial things like weather. The rain began at a moderately light drizzle, seemingly growing in only a matter of moments. Again she sighed deeply, for it was a habit of hers that she couldn't let go and turned to exit her room. She closed the door behind her softly, as to not disturb those who were sleeping still and walked down the stairs silently. They creaked now and then, and as much as they irked her, the possibility of them being fixed of their noisiness was hardly anything to really believe in.

The last step creaked louder than the rest as she stepped off it carefully, trying hard not to make the commotion worse than what it already was. Arlynn, unimpressed with the sounds, made a mental note for something to be done about the stairs that led upstairs. The third floor, belonging to the sworn enemy, was practically renovated and seemed nothing like the second floor where she and her fellow gang members resided in. So was it wise to do a bit and perhaps get these stairs fixed? After all, she was certain that no one would have liked being woken up by the sound of stairs that creaked so loud they could be heard from outside of the house. Others aside; Arlynn was positive (though it was rare for her to be so) that she herself would prefer not to be woken up from sleep in such a way. She nodded to herself quietly, before proceeding into what was the common room of The Alabaster House.

It was littered with chairs and several tables, but Arlynn paid no mind to them. Instead, she motioned over to the window in the corner of which she had a rather nice view of the outside. Through the window's glass she could spy the field where all brawls and fights took place -- a place of bloodshed. She was not new to the thought of the blood and the fighting, the words spoken there with such malice and such loathe for the opponent; it was nothing new. In fact, it was a normal situation. It was something that perhaps, if she was stuck here for the rest of her life, that she would see perpetually everyday. Fighting and killing, they went hand in hand and were inescapable if you ended up in a place like this.

The fighting and killing didn't bother her -- it was the thought of her dying and being killed that did it. Dying was typically not on a list of 'to-do's' for a person nor was it really anything that anyone wanted. At least, that she knew of. Arlynn could admit that she was no coward about fighting and killing herself, but she was in denial in the truth of which she could not hope to communicate to others. Being afraid of death... It was natural (and she really did not like the way she was repeating the word so many times already this morning) for a human being.

Arlynn's lip curled up into what was a light smirk, that frown gone and she was amused with her current thought process. Human being... The term itself sounded amusing.

Was anyone even human anymore in this mad asylum?

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made by rea @ festival of asylum. do not steal, please! :]
the top lyrics belong to nightmare's the world!
this post is tagged for anyone who wants to join!
this post was written with rea's character arlynn!
right now reaaa is listening to naturally by selena gomez!
the amount of words in this post is one-two-six-nine!
ohmygod. so much rambling, cheezes. uhhh. sorry for such a bad post with extra rambling and fail. D: maybe i have a thing for characters like arlynn, pffft. anyone can join, boy or girl, holics, anti or staff~ if you're confused on a certain part of the post just ask =_=

[rook nightingale]

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ROOK NIGHTINGALE
OH, I'LL BRING THE RAIN, ALL RIGHT

He had a penchant for waking up at exactly seven thirty in the mornings, despite how late he had slept the night - or morning. Perhaps it was a good sign that his biological clock was functioning well? Nah, that couldn't be. Rook didn't want to be normal - being normal was abnormal here, and he didn't want to be classified as some useless, normal twit when there's so much trippy sensations that can be experienced when you're stoned and psychotically so. And so here he was, lying in the middle of his beat-up mattress that was lacking an actual bed frame with a few straggly cashmere blankets thrown over his body. Making some sort of effort to sit up, he tilted his head towards the windows, where the half-broken blinds attempted to blot out the sunlight. Irregular slits of light dotted the dirty floor panels, and he stretched with a large yawn; throwing the covers off, he hopped off, feet hitting the sensation of an ice cooler. Not really caring for the sudden intrusion of the cold impact on his bare soles, Rook grabbed a towel and a pair of pants from the rack in his dingy closet and exited his room, quietly walking through the quiet corridors.

Passing by a few of his mates' bedrooms, he could hear the sounds of people still fast asleep in their beds. Grinning to himself, he took in a bit of pleasure of listening to them while he walked, finding a bit more of a spring in his steps. Scratching the side of his rump and boxers, he continued his way down the hallway until he reached the guy's shower rooms. His feet transferred from wood to tile now, although they were so numb from the cold that it didn't really matter much. Throwing his towel over a shower panel door, he stripped down, and proceeded to enter the cubicle, closing the door behind. Hands wrenching around more cold metal, a splash of water came trickling out before blasting him with cold water.

"Blasted showers...!" He cursed loudly, smacking the shower head and the large drizzle of water sprayed at the side of the cubicle walls. Standing stark naked and shivering in the cold, Rook frowned bitterly and waited until he saw the steam rise, before smacking it back into place, dunking his head beneath the warm torrent. Pressing his palm against the shampoo container, Rook let the now-scorching water run down his back, before allowing a dab of shampoo into his palms and worked it through his hair. After coating his hair with the fruity-smelling soap, he proceed to dunk his hair back under the deluge once more, washing away the foam and suds, watching them wash away down the drain that was sitting squarely between his feet. Raking through his hair a little more with his fingers, he then immersed himself beneath the water for a few more minutes before shutting off.

Drying himself off, he slipped into his clothes quickly, securing the pair of baggy, dark beige cargo pants over his lower half. Picking up his wife-beater, he stared at it with a small curl of disappointment on his lips. It was time to take this baby to the wash today, uh huh. Guess he'll have to do topless for now. Throwing the towel over his shoulders, he tossed his shirt into the laundry chute that was placed conveniently right outside of the showers, and was walking back through the hallways once more. The sounds of rain hitting the roof eaves and windows could be heard everywhere, but what really captured Rook's interest was the sounds of someone's shuffling footsteps descending down to the lower grounds, since there was that noticeable creak on the last step that always sounded whenever someone stepped on it. Grinning, he decided to follow, his interest held at a large scale at what would come to follow if he decided to... pursue.

Sliding down the banisters like a five-year-old, he hopped off neatly at the end to avoid banging his manhood against the tapering post that nailed the last step down on the ground. Landing neatly upon the floors, he made little noise as his bare feet made contact with the ground, and Rook proceeded to tip-toe quietly on the main floor, ears perking at the slightest sounds. Seeing a flash of pink sway past his eyes in a split second, Rook watch it disappear into the common room of the Alabaster House. Smiling wryly, he shoved his hands into his pocket and continued on with his prowl, the grin that was once as faint as a ghost, growing larger by the passing minute. Slipping against the frame of the common room's entrance, he watched the figure make her way over to the window at the other end of the room, curving around the up-turned chairs and tables that lay strewn across the floor from potentially last night's turn of events of crazy thrashing by his other inmates. Rook licked his lips, and entered the room.

Arlynn Alabaster seemed to be quite pensive about something, he noted silently to himself. 'She's spending way too much alone time for her own good. Maybe she needs a bit of a cheer up from her mate, eh?' He thought brightly, nearly skipping his way towards her in the prospect of the surprise she was going to receive. "Ahoy there, Miss Arlynn!" He then exclaimed pompously, sidling over behind and leaned over her shoulder, hands still in his pocket. He proceeded to stare outside of the window, watching the rain beat itself against the glass panes. "Don't tell me you woke up early to watch rain fall, m'lady." He affectionately replied brow twitching upwards with some sort of confused glee at the strangeness Arlynn was presenting to him. Confusion, to him at least. Rook wasn't really the one to be all poetic-like and think about things in front of passing rain. Not at all.

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TAGGED -- arlynn, open
WORDS -- 991
MUSIC -- give him up, faber drive
STATUS -- complete
NOTES -- not as rambling-y as yours, but it'll do. >3
THIS TEMPLATE WAS MADE BY STORM of FESTIVAL OF ASYLUM!
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[victor riddle]

i must confess

[/i][/b][/size][/font]
i’m in love with my own sins ![/i][/b][/size][/font]

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"Hear that, Jasmine? I'm not the only early bird this morning..." The low, rough purr of a lone inmate shifted through the gentle light of dawn that peered through the line between his curtains. The predator was quiet and calm as he sat in the dark, crouched over a knife that was cradled like a child in his hands. Slender fingers caressed the blade with the tenderness one would bestow upon a lover, careful so as not to get nicked by the edge as he stroked it gently. The man did not need bright light to tend to the chore he had taken up at this hour; his skill with knives was sure enough to keep him completely in control as he finished polishing the weapon he'd been addressing in such a soft, affectionate tone. But Victor Riddle wasn't going to spend the rest of the morning lavishing attention on his beloved murderer's tool. Now that he could hear someone stirring in the hallway, he figured he could amuse himself in other ways. He held the knife up to allow some of the light to catch in the metal, a grin spreading along his lips in approval as he stood and tucked the blade somewhere safe. Most of Victor's belongings were hidden well throughout his room. He didn't trust anyone and he never had. Besides, it was only logical when one lived in an asylum housing some of the most dangerous minds in existence. Yes, it was probably best to keep his valuables well hidden, then. His prizes... his trophies... his treasures. Such were not for the soiled, unworthy hand to touch.

With a groan, the man stretched with arms over his head, back curving in a lovely arch as he smirked and closed his eyes. He was so fond of himself; of his body and how it worked. Even the slight tingling that ran through his shoulders and down his spine... oh, it felt good. As lazy as he could be, he enjoyed the alert sensation that prickled along the back of his neck now and then; the sick anticipation for things he couldn't even predict. He was so very much like a cat -- languid and aloof, but with claws and teeth poised beneath the surface eager to trap a mouse should he find one. This wasn't to suggest that Victor was an early bird, though. No, no, he actually didn't sleep much at all. He preferred to take several naps throughout the day rather than lie asleep and vulnerable for a set amount of hours. In some respects, he was extremely paranoid and had adjusted his lifestyle to accommodate this. Either that or he was just being sensible. The Alabaster House did not contain harmless, affectionate creatures in its bloodied walls. Honestly, sleep had never appealed to Vic. He did not dwell on dreams or in a state where he wasn't conscious and aware. He thrived best in reality, even if his views on it were warped, twisted, and decayed beyond recognition.

He was dressed in casual clothing. Despite his fondness for expensive garments and well-pressed suits, he was perfectly content in a pair of gray pants and a white shirt. He grabbed his long, black jacket from the foot of his bed and put in on without any rush or hurry in his long, agile limbs. One of his hands raked fingers through his long, white hair, causing the strands to dance along the back of his jacket in a sway of his head. He didn't want to lose his prey, though, so he didn't spend more time on preening. Besides, he knew he looked good all the time. He didn't need to constantly fuss over perfection. Victor opened his door slowly, slipping through it and peering down the hall with his dark eyes tracing each detail of the walls and floor. His feet weren't bare so he didn't feel the cool tingle through his soles; only the subtle draft that was known to linger in the halls. Closing the door behind him, he traced the outline of the pendant he wore as a necklace from where it hung from his neck. It was an absent-minded gesture he often did without thinking. A habit, if you will. But he could smell traces of a distant, but familiar aroma and sought to pursue it. As human and flawed as Victor certainly was (despite all he'd assure you of his demi-god status), he was probably more an animal than he was a man. So often did he rely on his basic senses like a wild beast; a predator on the prowl always stalking a beating heart. His sly grin broadened and he tucked his hands into the pocket of his jacket, walking smoothly towards the stairs to follow his hunch. Yes, Victor was certain that a certain rosette-haired girl lingered somewhere nearby. And she wasn't alone, from what he'd deduced.

Aware of the bottom step's obnoxious creak, he simply skipped it in a small leap, landing quietly on his feet before resuming his hunt. Despite the way he would nag on others for their flaws and ugly habits, his posture was neither elegant nor poised as he went along his way towards the common room. His shoulders were hunched slightly and his head bowed a little, dark devil's eyes lit always with wicked intent as he proceeded into the room. He straightened up as he noticed the two inhabitants, however; head high and proud atop his neck as he approached on languid strides. Oh, the alley cat had found his prey... his prey and his allies in this fray he did not waste valuable thought on trying to figure out. He'd arrived just in time to hear Rook comment on the rain. Figured Rook had taken interest in Arlynn's habit of keeping to herself and, in some small way, Victor was almost disappointed the other male had found the girl first. But he didn't care enough to fuss over it. Neither Rook nor Arlynn had become interesting enough to him for his interest to latch on like a leech. They were still unique enough to prod at his curiosity whenever he took note of them, however, so he did not turn to leave. The day was just beginning, after all. Amusement could easily be found anywhere, particularly for a sociopath like Vic, who eyed them with a hunger he hid beneath a small smile.

"Rain... Both melancholy and uplifting. Depends on the perspective of its admirers, I suppose." He chuckled and sat in a high-backed chair nearby, crossing his legs with eyes never leaving the two HOLiC gangsters. "Heard you cursing in the showers, Rook," he added after a moment, eyes fixed on the young man in question. "I hope you didn't hurt yourself. What a tragedy that would be." Oh, another grin - another flash lit briefly in his nearly-crimson eyes. And then he went back to glancing at Arlynn, head tilted just slightly as he observed her through a calm, but ever-calculating stare. "One does wonder, though. Why does the HOLiC queen wake so early just to look through a window to see the same wonderful view? Does it ever change? Hm." That grin. It just never seemed to slip from his lips. Curiouser and curiouser...

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THIS THREAD IS finished.
AND IT’S FOR arlynn, rook, & anyone else.
AS FOR WORDS, WE HAVE 1214.
THE LYRICS ARE FROM america’s suitehearts by fall out boy.
MUSE IS THANKS TO twisted transistor by korn.
ANY LAST THOUGHTS? rambly... and stuff. idk. hope this is all right for now.
THANKS FOR THE HARD WORK template (c) - bethasaur ftw . of CAUTION 2.0

[arlynn alabaster]

AN EVIL FLOWER BLOOMED ELEGANTLY,
AS IT GREW TO BE ETERNALLY LOVED!
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Not in the last was she very pleased with the rain that poured onto the surroundings of The Alabaster House, Arlynn raised her hand and delicately placed the palm of it against the glass. The pads of her fingertips pressed against the smooth, cold surface, able to feel the soft beating of the rain from her hand. Though calming as it was, it was not what she was really looking for. Instead of a beautiful rising sun, her morning was greeted with a downpour of rain, and it did not look like it would go away soon. The worst thing happening was that it would rain for a few days at the most, and prevent her from ever seeing that morning star pop out from the far away horizon. It did irk her to an extent, since it was a daily routine to rise with the sun. Somehow, standing in the warmthness that it gave off from the rays made her feel a bit better about her day, though she did not know exactly to feel better about. There were many things to consider that could be better, though nothing in particular to think about.

She watched carefully with half closed eyes, her eyelids lowered half way. She was unaware of the day's growing liveliness happening elsewhere in the house. Had she actually expected others to be waking at this hour, she might have thought about remaining in the premises of her own room. If she was focused enough, which took little effort, her ears could pick up the sounds of feet pattering against the floor, movement taking place upstairs. So people were up at this time of day, probably maids or servants that were bustling about, or assistants to that mysterious man known as her father making runs to do things for him, or just because they were like her; people who woke up early and could not stay asleep for any longer. What she did not figure was that it seemed like someone was heading her way, not the kithchen. Which was the first and most obvious thing to think when you associate it with the morning and people waking up -- they would head into the kitchen to find food, breakfast, and then go on with their days, right?

Arlynn was unamused as she heard the sound of foot steps coming her way and she inwardly groaned. She continued to stare forward into the window, her hand still against the glass and it's counterpart relaxed by her side. She paid little attention to this person who made their way over to her side, aware that a conversation would strike up and she was just sincerely hoping it wasn't the enemy out to attack her first thing in the morning. "Ahoy there, Miss Arlynn! Don't tell me you woke up early to watch rain fall, m'lady." Luckily, and she was somewhat pleased with the God's for not having her deal with trouble in the morning, it was not as bad as she had thought it would turn out to be. Fellow follower Rook stood off to the side a bit, behind her. She turned her head slightly, gazing at him with a blatantly unamused expression.

"You're shirtless," was the perhaps the most obvious statement she could have made that morning. She took this little fact about his appearance and kept it in the back of her head -- one of the many things she'd have to remind him about (or rather in other words, nag) at a later time. His laziness, she predicted, would be the death of him. "You'll catch a cold if you remain like that any longer, Rook, or are you still too lazy to get yourself another shirt?" Arlynn raised an eyebrow slightly, her lips curling down to a small degree as they made a slight frown on her face. Though she was about to go on further with her so-called nagging, another voice had interrupted her train of thought and thus caused for her to voice a very soft groan. More people meant more conversation, which may have eventually lead to trouble in some way. It was mostly the case of conversations in the household and quite the unavoidable occurence.

She looked over her shoulder and watched as a rather interesting man stepped forward and made his way in the common room to a chair nearby. Wary, she hid her displeasure of having to deal with company so early and bit the inside of her cheek to restrain herself. "Good morning, Victor," greeting him with a slight nod of her head. Arlynn was careful not to create too much of a conversation to drag herself into a terrible situation, though she could not restrain herself from speaking in a calm tone, though still wary of the two men present in the room with her. "Morning people like me tend to like watching the outside in the morning; the way everything appears first thing when the sun rises." And this was true; Arlynn very much liked the appearance of the outside world when the sun popped up from over the horizon. She sighed a bit, looking back to the window and the seemingly everlasting rain outside. "Today, to my dismay, I saw no sun rise but the start of a downpour. Such a shame," she ended up throwing in a bit of her sincere disappointment into her voice. Had her followers known she had such the habit or was this something new to them? She kept the thoughts creeping in this last moment to the back in her mind as she heard nothing but breathing, the faint noises upstairs and the rain on the other side of the mirror.

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made by rea @ festival of asylum. do not steal, please! :]
the top lyrics belong to nightmare's the world!
this post is tagged for member who plays character!
this post was written with rea's character arlynn!
right now reaaa is listening to phantom of the opera by kagamine len and rin!
the amount of words in this post is nine-five-two!
a bit shorter, sorry for ramble. =_= and baw, i wish i could have made a 969 word post. D;