Wow, this is such a sharp contrast to Vulpix.ck's post. o.o Oh, and my character says to j00: "Thank you for helping me find romance and true love! I've never been so happy! But...the pain of distance! ;_;"
As per regulatio, I must use Laguna:
Name: Laguna Riviera
Race: human
Gender: female
Age: 16
Appearance: She is a little short for her age, standing at about 5’4”. Her skin is slightly tanned, naturally. Her black hair is braided into two braids that go all the way down her back. Her eyes are a very deep and rich blue, like the depth of the ocean. Laguna's face is sharp and her features are chiseled, but her youth is given away in her cheeks. Her figure is supple and she does not look to be very athletic, but her legs are long in proportion to the rest of her body, making her agile and flexible. There is a very small black butterfly tattoo are the outside of her right ankle with 記憶 (kioku) very small under the butterfly (will be explained in history). Her whole body is somewhat bony, especially her arms and long fingers.
Clothing and Gear: Laguna wears an Asian style shirt with cap sleeves. It is black with flowers and dragons embroidered on it with red thread. The fabric crosses over from the shoulder, with black buttons. The collar comes up a little, and all the edges on the shirt are lined with black silk binding. She has black pants that stop a little bit past her knees. They taper near the knees and then bell out. A red strip goes down the side of each leg. She often carries her lute with her in a large, black canvas case, with a thick strap that crosses over her right shoulder. The design in the case is a silver crescent moon with an Egyptian-esque eye in the crook. The case itself looks like a rounded square in shape, and though it may look like a burden, it hardly feels like a weight on her back. She wears brown, leather sandals with softer, tanned straps that criss-cross like a lattice on her legs and then are tied in a bow on her shin.
Personality: Laguna is carefree and independent for the most part. She has learned that worrying about things too much in life will only make them worse. Although she is agile and quick-witted in the face of danger, she would prefer not to fight and only defend herself it that is what’s necessary. She is friendly to everyone, but she doesn’t have that many friends because she has been betrayed by them in the past, and she doesn’t want any new ones to do the same. She rather greet everything as it comes with a smiling face and hope for the best. Despite her relaxed and simple nature, she can be serious when the time calls for it. Although she may seem simpleminded, Laguna can play almost any musical instrument decently. She usually keeps her playing and singing on a private basis because she thinks people will not like her music. She is not really afraid of anything and will stand up in against a fatal threat if someone is by her side. Going along with her “no-worries” doctrine, she rarely gets angry, especially over trivial incidents. She dreams of teaching the world happiness, but she has no idea as to how to go about this, and therefore she tries to help individuals when she can.
History: Miss Riviera grew up in New York City with music in her life. At a young age, she learned to play the lute, being taught by her older sister Kaede. She became very proficient, and now that is her favourite instrument and her “specialty.” Kaede also taught her flute and the cello. Her mother was very musical as well, and taught Laguna and her sister piano, violin(/viola). Her father tried to indulge in playing the guitar and percussion, but he was always very busy at his job and almost never saw his family. When she was in kindergarten, Laguna brought her lute for show and tell, and all of the children were touching it and plucking the strings and not seeming to have any kind of respect, like Laguna didn’t really mean anything. Since that incident, she has kept her music limited to her house and private chambers as much as possible. Still, Laguna loved Kaede and her mother. When she was only ten, the two were involved in a head-on car crash. Her father took her to the scene of the accident; she saw white cloths cover them, and they were wheeled away on stretchers...and she never saw then again. She lived in grief for almost the next two years. In spite of losing half his family, her father still worked as long of hours as always, forcing Laguna into a more independent life. She lived in grief for nearly two years, until one day someone on the street handed her a pendant that looked like two wings rising from an open box. She never saw the person’s face or heard their voice, but she felt that they were a part of her. She dreamed she that was with them, but whenever she awoke, she could never remember what they looked like or what she did with them; all she had was the reassuring feeling that lingered. That prompted her to live life a different way, for what she is now, not those who passed. When Laguna was twelve, four years after Kaede and her mother had died, she passed a car accident on her way home from school. That aroused the sadness in her, but she decided it wouldn’t control her life again. Instead, she got a tattoo of a butterfly labeled with 記憶 as an everlasting memory of Kaede and her mother. She had become more familiar with New York City, Manhattan in particular, and she basically did what she wanted whenever she wanted...she was free, yet in confined at the same time.
Talents: (Musical talents mentioned above). In the original RPG, the characters had the power of words. Her word was Malaak, meaning faith. Using its power, Laguna could create a shield or levitate herself and those touching her (for a reasonable period of time, namely to protect herself and others from harm plaguing the ground).
Other: Hmm…I don’t think that this is necessary for this character.
RPG Title: Kotoba Masters//Light in the Darkness (created and mastered by me)
Also, in Mire, there are supposed to be living souls who are the deceased loved ones of characters; it’s neither heaven nor hell nor purgatory, but rather than ghosts that held regret in their life and therefore cannot move on, there are people who are still alive who cannot let go of them. (Or something like that…even though I made the plot, we didn’t get that far in the game, and I don’t remember. ^^
Featuring: SuperSonicMewtwo's Justin Bailey! Modifications for better plausibility:
Age: Now 18
Minor history alteration: He still grew up in a rural town, but when he hit his teenage years, his family moved to NYC. He often travelled around the state, however, to chase storms.
(You're lucky I'm not using Nikita, or he'd so be dead. XD)
Name: Justin Bailey
Gender: Male
Age: 22 Earth Years
Appearance: Justin is nearly six and a half feet tall, and is built like a football player. His eyes are a deep brown, and he has short, black hair, spiked up with gel. He usually has a smile on his face, so he does not appear intimidating. Sometimes wears goggles (for when riding a motorcycle in the wind).
Clothing and Gear: A sleeveless orange shirt and khaki pants make up Justin's main clothing. He wears a necklace of shark teeth, and has many different pairs of sneakers (they usually get destroyed, so he needs many). Justin always carries retractable metal staves, as well as a large quantity of weather equipment. He rides around on a motorcycle with a trailer attached to the back, used to transport a large amount of weather predicting equipment, ranging from barometers to advanced radar. Justin also has a cell phone, for its most basic purpose, communication.
Personality: Justin is carefree and loyal. He always tries to help any friend in any way he can. His attitude, and one he assumes his friends have (even though he may be wrong) is that one should never give up; if they continue to push for a goal, they WILL make it. Justin may get himself into a situation he believe he can push through, when in reality he cannot, or, a friend of his may be in a situation where Justin assumes they will do fine because they can push through the problem, and the friend does not need his help, when really, it's Justin’s help they need most of all. Justin only loses his happy disposition if he becomes aware that a friend is truly in trouble (where Justin then puts forth all effort into helping), or if his flexibility is brought up as a conversation topic.
History: Justin was raised in a rural community. His hometown was often on the receiving end of extreme thunderstorms, many with tornados. Justin developed a fascination with the natural cyclone, and has focused his life on it, up through higher education. Justin wanted to become a weatherman as his career, but at the moment he is a freelance storm chaser (not that he is complaining). One time as a child, Justin saw the result of a tornado sending an ordinary stick through a block of concrete, and the awesome power exhibited convinced him to begin training in the martial arts of wielding a long staff (of which he now holds major skill). It was during Justin's training that he discovered his gift of extreme flexibility. However, Justin found great displeasure in the ways he could stretch and contort his body, which he related to female gymnasts, and wishes to avoid. While Justin instinctively uses his flexibility while fighting, if someone mentions notice of this, Justin will become insecure and begin relying only on his brute strength, which often makes the fight all the more tougher. This applies to any normal activity as well; Justin will become distracted and not perform as well on anything if he is busy trying to make sure that he doesn't use his flexibility. Justin now travels around to different cities, offering his expertise as a tornado chaser and storm watcher to different weather agencies.
Talents: Justin is extremely skilled with the prediction and observation of weather, most especially thunderstorms and tornados. He can estimate humidity simply by the feel of the wind, predict the direction of a tornado or storm that appears unpredictable, and can produce solid answers once he starts breaking out his weather equipment. Justin is extremely fit, and likes to fight with a metal staff, of which Justin is quite good with. Justin's fitness extends to his possession of extreme flexibility. He is self-conscious about this trait, and often wishes no one would notice, or that he never had it.
Other: While his flexibility makes Justin feel feminine for he compares it to women’s’ gymnastics, Justin is not sexist and has nothing against girls (he's straight, so yeah, he likes them); he just doesn't want to be that much like them. Justin also goes through a large quantity of tennis shoes, for he often ends up in the middle of a rainy and muddy storm that destroys the shoes he had currently been wearing.
Elements
1. Large Amount of Gear - Weather Equipment
2. Tragic Personality Flaw - Never-give-up attitude, always push on through, no matter what.
3. Desirable Trait Character Deplores - Extreme flexibility.
Note that I don't know NYC very well; I've only been there once for a couple of days, so much of the stuff regarding the city I made up. ^^;
*_Laguna Riviera_* These Same Faces
I do not refute that at times, I do feel very lonesome. It is a part of me, just as it is a part of everyone else. I suppose that for me, I am occupied enough that I can evade dwelling in loneliness. Nevertheless, I am rather secure in being alone.
I didn't want to go. Ever since the third grade, I never wanted to go to music class anymore. It wasn't music at all, but just a bunch of children singing songs that made them sound cute and banging on simplistic percussion instruments. While my classmates squeaked false tones out of flute-o-phones, I sat in the fetal position. I didn't want to, but I started to cry again. I was good at hiding it, though.
My best friend, Sarah, called to me. "C'mon, Laguna! Come play Hot Cross Buns with us!"
I remained sessile and declined quietly. Sarah stole a peek at my face; her expression scared me a little. It looked like she was scrutinizing an insect. "What? Don't tell me you're crying again. We can never have fun anymore. Jeez, I know your sister died and all, but you need to get over it already. Come back when you get some backbone."
Another girl whispered to her, "You know, her mother was killed, too." The two of them turned their backs and returned to the cacophony.
~~~~
It had been such a cold day; the wind swirled the snowflakes around wildly, pelting my eyeballs like tiny daggers of ice. A bit of snot dripped from my left nostril. I was really, really cold, so I hugged my best friend, Stephie, as we walked home school. Stephie was different; she could hear some things that I never could, such as the alleged laughter of our peers. That day, in the cold, I found out what it was like to be frozen inside:
"Eww, stop. Why do you hug me all the time, anyways?" she asked. It was 'anyway.' I paused, thinking of what I could say that would make sense to her. "Hello, I asked you a question."
"I never know when I'll see you again."
"Yes, you do. You see at school every day, for crying out loud. I can understand if friends hug each other when it's their birthday or if they're going away for a while, but not all the time. I see your other friend, that KK, hanging on you all the time, and you enjoy it. What are you, a fucking lesbian, or something? I told you before that I can't be your friend if you're a lesbian."
"I'm not," I said meagerly in my defense.
"Yes, you are, seriously. Go away. And stop wearing such stupid hats."
Silently, I watched three years of friendship, like the snowflakes, blown to the ground without an inkling of remorse.
~~~~
My best friend, KK, she didn’t mind. We would hug and hold hands all the time, and it was okay because we were close friends. She treasured our friendship. I mean, she was really happy to have me as a friend. For a little while, she restored my faith in people my own age.
We shared everything together. Often, her mother would take us to Massachusetts or New Jersey, and we would go to a beach or a huge arcade. For the first time, I understood what a "best friend" really was. As long as we had each other, nothing else mattered.
KK was brilliant; she had political genius, was a wonderful cook, and dutifully studied winemaking. She used to show me the stories she wrote as a little kid. They were silly, entirely far-fetched murder mysteries, with the main character being an obvious alter ego to her. When she was tired sometimes, perhaps on a car drive home, she'd lay her head on my shoulder and fall asleep. I was so touched; I was happy that I could at least be a pillow for her. A lot of people were interested in her, but she chose me to be her friend, the oddest one of all. That's why abandonment by her hurt so much more.
All of our promises had mattered to her, except for one. "We'll never let a boy come between us." I admit, the wording was indeed ambiguous, but it shouldn't've mattered. She really loved Cody, though; he could be so much more for her than I could. Back then, I had picked up the shattered fragments of that promise and hid them somewhere. I can't remember where that place was now.
"Guess what!" she'd exclaim excitedly. I hadn't heard that much enthusiasm from her since I had first agreed, reluctantly, to be her friend, all that time ago. "Cody and I stayed up til two last night on the phone. He said the cutest things to me! Wow, I'm so happy he came into my life."
"But KK…we have always spent Friday nights talking together in the phone into the wee hours. I was getting worried when you didn't call."
"Oh, sorry. Don't worry about it. Things change, so we can move it to Saturday night, k?"
Gradually, she stopped hugging me, and when I hugged her, she'd break away earnestly. I saw a lot less of her, until it become nothing at all:
"KK, let's go to the mall and play DDR tonight."
"Sorry, I'm busy. You don't need to ask me to make plans all the time. I'll let you know when I'm open."
"But, we always used to do things together, all the time! Don't you miss being with friends? Don't you feel lonely?" Had I been emulating myself in that question? Either way, it was the first time I had really pushed forth an effort to keep one of my friends.
"Well, it's okay. I have Cody now, so I don't need you."
I know she didn't mean it that way, but it penetrated me so deeply. Even after they broke up, she didn't need me to help her through it. She was in her own world of grief, and my calls could not reach her there.
To me, loneliness seems like the much better option.
-----------
"Please enjoy!" I said with a cordial smile as I handed a bowl of soup I had just ladled to a little girl dressed in rags. Seeing homeless people is sad, but you learn to accept it and do you best to help them. Yesterday, I had been busy at the soup kitchen, packing bags of nonperishable Thanksgiving meals in preparation for the holiday. Today, clad in my olive drab bandana, I had been assigned a ladler again.
While I was stirring the broth, waiting for the line to advance, a young man walked in. He was carrying a bunch of unwieldy equipment, but it didn't seem to burden him any. Nonchalantly, he took snapshots of everything in sight it seemed. "Smile!" he said to me, and I gave the best picture smile I knew how. Then he said to Helen, the chairperson of the kitchen, "This is a really nice operation you have here." He departed before the 'thank you' had even left her lips.
Then she called to us, "We're going to close up soon, everyone!" We dished soup for the few remaining people and then stored the leftovers. I took the pots and ladles to the sink area and began to wash them. Helen appeared at my shoulder and said, "Good job today, as always. You go on home; I'll take over here." I thanked her and began to walk home.
Outside the soup kitchen, the guy with the equipment was arranging it in a trailer that was hitched to a motorcycle. I was surprised that he found a spot to park that thing. As I passed by, he said to me, "Hey there. I'm Justin Bailey. It's very nice to meet you."
Surprised by this sudden introduction, I responded, "Hi, I'm Laguna. It's nice to meet you…too…" Past that, though, I didn't think anything of it.
When I arrived home, I was quite hungry, but I knew that I had to clean up the kitchen first. Mom always liked coming home to an uncluttered apartment. I suppose the habit had been instilled in me since I was a little kid. Unless messes were a pet peeve of mine, it didn't really matter. Yesterday morning, Dad had boarded a plane…to Milan. It was for business, and he would be gone for a month…a whole month. I was used to it, though. He had left $1000 for me to support myself during his leave. The excess was in case the toilet broke and I needed to call a plumber or something like that, or if I wanted to take a cab somewhere out of the city, or I wanted to go to a café for lunch. I didn't have a job of my own, as I preferred to spend my labour hours volunteering, and Dad made plenty of money. Of course, his career was the chief sacrifice of his time.
I scrubbed the sink and put away all of the dishes. I often imagined myself as a maid for someone I loved, some faceless person. I wish I had one of those cute little black and white outfits to wear, but I was content with what I had. When I had finally finished the tidying of the kitchen, I put in a frozen dinner; I was really too tired to prepare anything real. It was fettuccini Alfredo, my favourite. This was the cheap kind, though. I think it's a trait that I inherited from my mother, but I've always been frugal, despite the surplus of money in our family. While the pasta was in the microwave, I put the newspaper back together. Then suddenly, I remembered that I had to straighten up the coffee table in the living room. As I rushed to stack the papers, I then recalled that I didn't have to. The microwave beeped, so I took out the carton and stirred its contents methodically, like a witch and her cauldron of radiation-green potion. This sort of fettuccini needed more sauce, and it didn't have enough moisture. I guess that's what you get for buying the cheap kind.
-----
The next day, I was walking to school, PS 47. It was a pretty nice school. I mean, the school was, but not the people. I thought about my contemporaries a lot. I wondered what went through their heads, about their goals and dreams, and if they thought about the same thing. As simplistic as they are, they're wicked difficult to understand.
It was a brisk day, but not too cold. The breeze felt good, like a cool washcloth after a bout of exercise. After I passed 33rd Street, I noticed that the Justin I had met the was behind me. He was very conspicuous with the clanking of his equipment, which sounded like the weak triumph of distant thunder. I decided to pretend to be oblivious for the time being; New York was a busy city, and it was quite possible that he had business along the same route.
When I reached the grimy steps of PS 47, I turned and looked at him. In a taciturn voice, I asked, "Why did you follow me here?"
"Don't worry, I just wanted to walk you to school." I thought it to be a highly unusual response. Nevertheless, I gave a carefree smile. I thought maybe it would scare him, as it's scared my classmates in the past.
After that time before school, I didn't see much of him for a week or so. (However, that doesn't mean that he didn't see me.) Soon, though, I felt like I was seeing him everywhere. It would be just a quick glance out of the corner of my eye, as if he would be a fleeting bird. I never looked back, though, but the sound of his gear would always give him away. It was really silly to carry that stuff around all the time, I though.
Eventually, I happened upon Justin again, face-to-face. He was smiling, but I said sternly, "Why are you always following me?"
He answered, "Who says I'm following you?" With those words, a cloud of gloom descended upon me. If he said anything more, I did not hear it, for I was storming away. In my mind, I congratulated myself for attracting a stalker.
The same routine of noticing Justin's presence—but not acknowledging it—continued for the next couple of weeks or so. I tried to ignore it; I was usually good at that kind of thing, but his stalking seemed to evade my defenses against unhappiness, or perhaps just hid behind them.
On an unseasonably balmy Saturday, I spent a large slice of time reading in Central Park. Many of the leaves had fallen, but the tree I was sitting under appeared to be ablaze. The fallen foliage blanketed the rustic bench upon which I was sitting. At first, it was very relaxing, but the story of Catcher in the Rye soon became mere words on a page. The surrounding air felt so unsettling that I could nearly taste its unpalatable molecules.
Without averting my gaze, I said, "Justin, I know you're there."
He came out from behind the tree trunk and replied, "Ah, I know you have a good ear. You found me."
"No, you found me. I don't understand, but leave alone, please." I almost hated to sound so curt.
"What? It's okay…I'm not hurting anyone."
I bolted to my feet, spun around, and shouted, "Please, just leave me alone! I don't even know what you want! Go away and leave me alone!" I was so scared that I just kept running with my head down. I wanted to be invisible so that he wouldn't follow me anymore. Even more, I wanted to be an illusion, just a figment of his imagination that would dissipate when he got too close.
I got home and cried. Although I was in my bed, I felt so lost.
-------
The day after the Central Park incident, I went to the soup kitchen like I did every Sunday. When I arrived, Helen and a few of the other regular volunteers were conversing. I hung my jacket and lute case on the wooden peg and sighed; I just didn't feel like myself. Upon seeing my arrival, Helen said to me, "So, we heard about your little 'secret admirer.'" Her voice sounded like an awkward attempt to tease me.
"It's more than that," I said heavily. "I'm thinking of filing a restraining order."
"You know it's not that easy, honey," she replied. "If you're under 18, you have to have a parent file it in your name."
The frightening feeling was like a wave about to crash, and I was the immobile beach. Dad wouldn't be home for at least another week, and I had submitted to living in fear. I hated how smiling had become something that took effort.
I didn't need for him to be waiting outside my building when I got home. He was either really persistent or a poor listener. I tried to ignore him, but he spoke to me: "I want to talk with you. Please—"
"No! I told you to leave me alone!"
"Just a little bit of time—"
"NO! I told you no! I said to leave me alone and go away, so please do!"
"Please, in Kaede's name, give me a chance."
I felt like I had just been struck by a wall of water and then fell back into the eye of the storm, and I had been thoroughly drenched, deep into my soul. "Okay," I murmured.
"Here's my address. Meet me tomorrow afternoon at whenever is convenient for you. I have a lot of little brothers and sisters, and I'm a lousy babysitter, so there's always someone around." I understood.
There were so many questions circuiting through my mind—How did Justin know Kaede? Why had he not he not mentioned her sooner? What was all the equipment he always had? Why had I not given him a chance sooner?—but I did not ask a single one.
------
He lived in the north side of town. It always seemed colder up there, less inhabited. The buildings were so stark that they seemed to me to radiate iciness. The day, too, was rather cold and blistery, and I was afraid that my nose might bleed.
He answered the intercom and then answered the door after my ascent in the elevator. Two young children were chasing each other, one with a teddy bear, when I walked in. He led me to his room, and we exchanged no words.
I was amazed by a room full of dimension and life, despite its tiny size. Half of it seemed to be filled with the same equipment he always carried. Notes and scraps of paper were scattered on a desk, as if they were blessings that had rained down from heaven. On the wall nearest his bed, there was a collage composed of photos of me. There I was, in the park reading, walking to school, sitting in a café, entering my building, shopping at the drugstore. All of the pictures were from weird angles, and I was never looking directly at the camera, except for one. Right in the center was the picture of me at the soup kitchen, clad in my olive drab bandana, with an eye-closed smile. It was rudimentarily framed with violet construction paper, offsetting it from the others. Had I not known myself, I would've thought that girl with the little braids was so happy just to be alive.
I knew that Justin was a stalker, but one could say that I was dumbfounded. The photos sparked memories of my everyday life and gave me a better idea of who I really was: a girl who smiled for the sake of smiling.
As I reveled, I thought that he could've known that I had a deceased sister named Kaede from information he had obtained through stalking. Yet, I had not heard Kaede's name spoken for so long. After she died, she faded and merely became 'your sister.'
He finally spoke, saying, "You look so much like her, you know."
"Ka…Kaede?"
"Yes. Apparently, you never knew me, but I was a student of hers for a short time, less than a year, probably. I was one those kids forced to take piano lessons by their mother. I kicked and screamed, but after I met her, my mindset changed."
I was listening, but I started to play with the seam on the bottom of my shirt. The black stitches, even in size and perfectly in row, reminded me of a line of black ants, but they looked strange. Someone had eroded them with the fierceness of contempt, and they had been uniformly disfigured.
He continued, "Foremost, her playing was inspirational. You thought to yourself, 'I'd give anything to move people's hearts the way she moves mine.' And then, when she taught you how to play, she guided your hands with hers. Her hands…were so soft, and her fingers were long and bony, but so graceful. Not only was she young, but she could speak to you in so many ways, often not with words."
I felt like I was going to cry. He described my sister so perfectly, that I could feel her hand in mine as we crossed the street together, or when she helped me up after I fell and skinned my knees, tears like waterfalls. You could feel the power of her heart when you were in pain or suffering, no matter how much it burdened her. I suppose I don't have any regrets, but one thing still remains: she didn't deserve to die.
"I'm sorry…am I making you sad?" he asked with a look of concern.
"No, I'm fine," I replied with a smile.
"Well, I hope that you will truly accept my apologies. I didn't mean to scare you or make you uncomfortable. When I saw you that day when you were walking into the soup kitchen, I thought it was Kaede's ghost. It didn't seem possible, but I was entranced nonetheless. Then I found out that you were her younger sister, and I remembered that she had once told me she had a little sister, and she taught you everything she knew. I really am sorry. Will you forgive me?"
"Yeah." I realized something else. I felt like crying because I had been so impatient and insensitive to someone to whom I was connected. My hasty conclusions hurt someone so unnecessarily. I then blindly broached a non sequitur: "What is all this stuff?"
"Oh, I'm a storm chaser," he answered. "It's equipment for tracking weather and measuring intensity and so on." I nodded in acknowledgement. "Ah, um, do you know who gave you that necklace?"
I figured that pendant around my neck; it looked like wings ascending from an open box. "No, I don't. A stranger gave it to me a number of years ago. I never even saw their face."
Slowly, he pulled out a silver chain that was largely hidden by his sleeveless shirt and dropped it beside his shark tooth band. Blinking, I literally couldn't believe my eyes. It was a necklace identical to mine.
"My older sister had given it to me that morning," he explained. "She had said, 'Give it to a girl so she won't cry. Keep the other to remember her by.' I saw you in the park that afternoon, curled up and crying. You must've been wearing a silly hat or something, because I obviously didn't think you looked like Kaede. I just didn't want you to cry anymore."
"Yeah, I had a thing for silly hats when I was younger." It was such a stupid thing to say.
"It may be too much to ask, but could you play a song for me on your lute?"
"Sure."
I unpacked my precious instrument carefully and tuned it quietly. This song wasn't meant for the lute; a mandolin would've been better. Yet, it seemed to have a sense of nostalgic finality, and that's why I chose it.
[color=skyblue]"I have continued searching for you,
though I know not your name
because I wanted to share
this feeling with you.
Time envelops both love and pain,
until they fade away.
But I still remember them
and always will….
Though I cannot remember when,
A whisper began echoing
Deep within my heart,
Fainter than drops of evening dew.
May this prayer I spin
Weave through the darkness of my frozen stars
And reach the skies above you,
So far away."
Guidelines: main focus on #1, with bits of #3 and #4.
Song credit: The song's actually an excerpt from the english version Radical Dreamers from Chrono Cross by Yasunori Mitsuda. I was going to make up my own thing, but...no. XD
Yeah, and I suck at undetailed time passage, but oh well. And if I'm forgetting something, my apologies...my mom's a nazi and a half.
Re: The RPG Tournament of 2006 Commences
*renames half the states and floods Indiana*
lol
Originally Posted by Roy Karrde
