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Post by EVAN JAXON LOVATO-CRANE on Dec 10, 2011 2:58:35 GMT -5
[/STYLE][STYLE=BACKGROUND-IMAGE: url(http://i.imgur.com/IyEuo.png); BORDER-TOP: SOLID #b9b9b9 15PX; BORDER-LEFT: SOLID #b9b9b9 15PX; BORDER-RIGHT: SOLID #b9b9b9 15PX; BORDER-BOTTOM: SOLID #b9b9b9 15PX; WIDTH: 400PX; HEIGHT: 200PX;] she wants a riot, she wants a riot Click. Click. Click. Click. “Excuse me miss, but you can’t have that in here,” the secretary advised in a sickly sweet voice. “Excuse me, but mind your own fuckin’ business Granny Smith,” [/color] she snapped in return. She blew the secretary a kiss with her free hand, the lighter staying in the other. Evan kept opening the closing the lid of the lighter, watching the little flame reappear every few seconds. “Miss, you need to put that away,” the old woman repeated cautiously. After all, in a school like this there was no telling what the students could do. “Can you suck my dick?”[/color] Hey, she was already going to get some hardcore detention, she might as well make it worth every second and make her Papacita proud. The flame of the lighter got bigger by nearly two inches when she spoke her vulgar words, patience never having been a virtue she possessed. She was actually pretty sure she didn’t have any virtues at all. Ever. Though her daddy would disagree and call her a little angel. Hah. The flame on the lighter died down to its usual amount and Evan returned to flicking it. Her feet rested onto the chair parallel of her despite the staff and students alike who needed to walk past her legs. She didn’t care. They could step over her. One foot rested on top of her other and kicked along to the music she had blasting in her iPod. Loosely tied converse with a few inked bats poking out from under the high tops. That wasn’t the only ink that was visible either, half of the film reel on her left thigh able to be seen under the short shorts she had on. Her tank top was ripped and her jacket sliding down one of her shoulders. The jacket was about eight sizes too big for her, belonging to one of her fathers while the fake glasses she wore belonged to the other. The jacket smelled like Xavier and Kahlua and she honestly could just sit there with her nose in it forever. Every now and then, when she was sure no one was paying attention, she snuck a sniff. But why was she even there in the first place? Because she had nearly set fire to the school during her SAC. And it hadn’t been an accident either. Evan had fully intended to hurt someone. She hadn’t been having a good day. Just one of those days when a bunch of little things kept going wrong until eventually she snapped. And now she was waiting for the principal to be finished with a meeting. She’d already been there nearly half an hour and her legs had proved as a burden for about ten minutes now with no plan on moving them. The door of the offices swung open and she side glanced to see who it was, her face contorting into extreme displeasure the instant she saw who it was. “Hey love, I missed you. What took you to long?”[/color] Every single syllable she spoke was laced with sardony. [/div] tag: oriana. words: 515 wearing: this. notes: none. [/center]
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Post by ORIANA VIOLA BASILE on Dec 12, 2011 20:45:10 GMT -5
[/style][style= background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/IyEuo.png); border: solid #b9b9b9 15px; width: 400px; height: 200px;] they’ve called the doctors, today’s the day; i’ve lost it, finally, and they’re putting me away The day had started out any other. There were the same annoying people that Oriana dealt with everyday- people who had messed up her kitchen, people who had sought to prove what a bitch she was, yadda yadda yadda. Oriana was used to it. It was a daily routine by now, and more or less, it was comfortable (unlike the rather high but extremely blue and cute heels Oriana was wearing).
Despite how normal the day had begun and continued to proceed, somewhere around second period, Oriana remembered that today was the anniversary of the day they had met. She used to always celebrate the day she had met any of her friends. She celebrated life constantly, throwing parties or having fun over the littlest things. She was funny like that.
The memories left Oriana even more tense and snappy than normal. Her insults were nastier, her control throughout the day worse, and her whole body and mindset even more... off. She just wanted to get through the last of the day and be off, dammit, to go explode somewhere in the middle of the forest. Why'd she have to remember? Oriana hadn't even reacted this badly on her birthday. No, the day they had become friends just struck a worse chord on her.
It also meant it had been one year, nine months, and twelve days since she had died.
One year, nine months, and eleven days since Oriana had completely lost control.
By the end of the day, Oriana's hands were visibly shaking. She was grateful it was the last period of the day, and the easiest- Oriana was a student aide for the front office. She spent the entire period walking around and delivering slips of paper to teachers, calling up students for various notices. It was mindless, and it let Oriana know the campus quite well.
After about forty-five minutes of wandering around, summoning students to the front office, and doing other small things, Oriana was headed back, mindless exploring for teachers' rooms over. She opened the door, hugging her cardigan around her a little bit tighter, as the warm air of the office didn't quite reach her frigid arms yet. The motion also helped her hide the shaking.
“Hey love, I missed you. What took you so long?”
This was not what Ori needed to hear. Really, she'd rather deal with any other person. The little blond who yelled at her in the abandoned house. The clueless invisible boy who sought to dig into Oriana's past. The soup burner. Any of them but the wretched fire girl.
"Hello, little firebird. I thought the took out the trash today, but I suppose they must have forgotten you." Oriana's nostrils flared as she exhaled deeply. As long as she kept calm, focused on bending the ring on her finger into shapes instead of shooting through the girl, she would be okay. She would be okay.
evaaaan | 488 | OUTFIT | BETCH.
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Post by EVAN JAXON LOVATO-CRANE on Dec 20, 2011 10:03:32 GMT -5
[/STYLE][STYLE=BACKGROUND-IMAGE: url(http://i.imgur.com/IyEuo.png); BORDER-TOP: SOLID #b9b9b9 15PX; BORDER-LEFT: SOLID #b9b9b9 15PX; BORDER-RIGHT: SOLID #b9b9b9 15PX; BORDER-BOTTOM: SOLID #b9b9b9 15PX; WIDTH: 400PX; HEIGHT: 200PX;] she wants a riot, she wants a riot Evan had never really been good with people, which she never understood. The difference been nature and nurture couldn’t be that strong, could it? Could whatever genetics her birth parents have instilled into her override her dads’ attempts at raising a well-mannered and lovely little lady? Whatever the reason behind Evan’s fire was, she wasn’t always sure if she liked it. Under her unpredictable fire were predictable insecurities. While Evan didn’t think she was ugly or unattractive, she just wished she could look a little different. Look a little more unique. Don’t get her wrong, she loved her very faint freckles, alabaster skin, long legs and flaming red hair, but Brandyn was just so beautiful. Her mocha skin and dense curls and the obvious blend of ethnicities her sister had. She was so exotic and physically flawless.
Evan was homesick and insecure and that put her in a bad mood. She had strong plans to kidnap Genie and make sure they smoked a joint somewhere secluded. Not that she would give too many shits if they got caught. She needed her girl, her lesbian lover-sister hybrid of a best friend. She needed the principal to stop whatever the fuck he was doing so he could cater to her already. She decided she was going to wait ten more minutes before she walked out. Evan had better shit to do than sit here and waste time. She could be attending the classes he kept bugging her about skipping.
She hated waiting. She hated sitting. She was as impatient as she was vulgar and even more of a nuisance than she was impatient. Her long and thin legs blocking the entrance and her lighter threatening the current occupants of the office, not to mention the sharp tongue and her temper. There was bound to be some charred bits of office by the time Evan left, especially if “Granny Smith” kept bugging her. And then Oriana walked in. Evan couldn’t decide if this made her day better or worse. It would all depend on how badly their bickering went this time. Putting these two in a room together was like putting two feral bears in a tiny cage together. It was not going to end well. Not even close to well.
Oh, and judging by the look on Oriana’s face her day was going just as well as the ginger’s. This would make it even more worth the Canadian’s while. Really? Firebird? Was that supposed to hurt her? “Sorry love, I’m not that easy to get rid of,” [/color] she remarked, continuing to flick the lighter open and closed. Click. Click. Click. With each new opening of the lighter the flame grew a tiny bit bigger. “Kind of like your bad skin. Hide us all you want but we will still be here to ridicule you.”[/color] Nothing short of confidence in her words, smirking up at Oriana from her chairs. [/div] tag: oriana. words: 490 wearing: this. notes: none. [/center]
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Post by ORIANA VIOLA BASILE on Dec 21, 2011 4:39:25 GMT -5
[/style][style= background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/IyEuo.png); border: solid #b9b9b9 15px; width: 400px; height: 200px;] they’ve called the doctors, today’s the day; i’ve lost it, finally, and they’re putting me away No. She would not be okay. For once, Oriana didn't want to be okay. She wanted to explode at someone; she wanted to lose control and to have that be okay. But mostly, she wanted to punch that ridiculous Evan in her face. Oriana briefly glared at the secretary in the office, the older woman who was in fact glaring at Evan's lighter. The clink, clink, clink of the metal was driving Oriana nuts, but she figured she'd solve the problem soon enough. With a twitch of her mind, Ori beckoned the metal lighter. The metal was warm from the flame that had been flickering on and off. Oriana concentrated for a moment, holding the lighter tightly. "Copper, zinc, and silver, then? So... this cheap thing is made out of brass, then merely covered in a silver plating. Lovely. I' will be keeping this, then." The secretary gave Oriana a look, but it flew over Ori's head. Screw her. She's the secretary, and while in real life the presence of a Zippo and mouthing off to an adult would have some very negative consequences, this is fiction, where we get to pretend we're in charge.
“Sorry love, I’m not that easy to get rid of.”
"And what a shame that is. After all, I am quite sure your parents must have asked you to run away more than once." Oriana lifted her feet up high to step over Evan, never making eye contact. The stiletto heel on Ori's fantastically blue shoes caught on something as Ori set her foot down. She didn't lose her composure, but Ori very much hoped that the heels left some kind of scratch, or possibly a nice bruise. She wanted to hurt Evan, even in little, petty ways such as a scrape. "After all, Evie, darling, every girl has the right to be ugly... You just seem to abuse the privilege." Ori allowed her voice to ring, the fire behind her words beginning to truly emerge. Ori's temper was slipping, and fast. Class had six more minutes. Six minutes, and she could go find that little clearing in the woods and... mine. She could take apart this wretched lighter piece by piece and maybe even separate the different atoms of copper, zinc, and silver, should she have the energy left.
Was Ori going to get her little respite that she desperately wished for? The chances are unlikely, I must say. After all, how can anyone resist the temptation of a catfight?
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Post by EVAN JAXON LOVATO-CRANE on Jan 5, 2012 20:01:45 GMT -5
[/STYLE][STYLE=BACKGROUND-IMAGE: url(http://i.imgur.com/IyEuo.png); BORDER-TOP: SOLID #b9b9b9 15PX; BORDER-LEFT: SOLID #b9b9b9 15PX; BORDER-RIGHT: SOLID #b9b9b9 15PX; BORDER-BOTTOM: SOLID #b9b9b9 15PX; WIDTH: 400PX; HEIGHT: 200PX;] she wants a riot, she wants a riot Evan was well aware that her lighter had been taken from her. The precious Zippo she had stolen off of Brandyn’s first boyfriend after kicking his ass, and had one of her two father’s refilling with lighter fluid for her. She didn’t know how he did it, but she didn’t care so long as she got it back. Having no lighter wouldn’t stop her from setting Oriana’s smug little stupid face on fire. She had matches, and all she needed was one tiny spark. Even if the match didn’t light the tiny little spark it would make would be enough. “Consider it a gift,” [/color] the redhead swooned, pursing her lips into a small “kissy face”. Though she was going find a way to get that lighter back eventually; probably asking Tony to go invisible and raid her room. That kid seemed to be able to know everything so might as well use that to her advantage. It wouldn’t be that hard to get him to do it either, just threaten the safety of what sat between his legs. Oriana’s next words lit a fire within Evan. Her temper all of a sudden exploded, her comment relating back to the fact that Evan was adopted. Her birth parents hadn’t wanted her, and while for the most part she didn’t care about that every now and then it bothered her. She was a teenage girl. She wanted a mother. She wanted to find out who she was. She loved her dads and she loved that Babe took the time to given Evan motherly advice, but there was every so often when Evan wanted to know her birth mother. Despite trying to keep her cool her eyes narrowed to start forming that dangerous glare of hers and her lips were thin lines. “No actually, because my parents elected to have me. Unlike your parents they didn’t have a hideous bitch forced on them.”[/color] She spat out her words, not caring about the ugly comment in the slightest. She wasn’t exotic like Brandyn was but she wasn’t unattractive either. “Says the girl that looks like she got run over by a steam roller. I’d ask if you’ve looked in a mirror lately but they all shatter when you come too close.”[/color] Queue eye roll. [/div] tag: oriana. words: idk wearing: this. notes: none. [/center]
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