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Post by VIVIAN LEVIA DANIELS on Dec 9, 2010 18:32:40 GMT -5
 Black was not a color or a pigment. Black was a shade.
People didn't understand that and at times, it bothered Vivian tremendously. It was a fairly simple concept. Black.Is.Not.A.Color. So whenever someone asked her what her favorite color was, she told them she didn't have a favorite color but she loved black. Then they would go on to say that black was a color and she would bluntly correct them by saying it was a shade. Blue, red, yellow, green, tickle-me-pink, purple-mountains-majesty, macaroni-orange. Those were colors. White and Black? They were shades. They were not represented on the color wheel. And why did she know this? Because to her, Chemistry could be applied to everything and anything, art included. She knew how to paint but her paintings always came out more morbid than she intended so she stopped painting by the time she was fourteen.
Three years later, at the age of seventeen, she was now applying this to the male before her who was trying his hardest to get in her pants. She was trying a new experiment; putting someone who was socially retarded into a highly stressful and social situation in order to turn said socially retarded person into a social butterfly. So far, the experiment was a bust. She was in the Meatpacking District at a large and lavishing apartment on the top floor of some random building. A rock band was playing and the place was full of a number of colorful people from socialites to skin heads and everything in between. She was normally at the bottom of this food chain, her black shrug stuffed into her tiny clutch as she leaned against the back wall with a cigarette in between her full lips. Her face was makeup free but her dark blue eyes were brighter than usual since her eyelashes looked so dark. Her skin was a golden tan, hair short in dark blond locks and hovering above her knobby shoulders. She was tall, reaching five feet with an added ten inches. Clad in a short sleeve lace turtle neck, long velvet skirt that swept the floor slightly, and doc martens, she looked like a Gothic Barbie minus the pounds of makeup and vampire teeth. An array of earrings were in her ears giving her a slight Victorian-Era feel and she occasionally took a drag from the cancer stick as if to further prove how detached she was to the entire scene taking place before her.
People were moshing in the center of the living room in front of the hardcore metal band playing. She was letting the music fill her ears instead of the sounds protruding from the male's vocal chords before her. He had asked her what her favorite color was and that was why she had a mini rant going off in her head. His was white. Seriously? It was like talking to a wall. That was her problem. This was why she was such a...virgin. Never been kissed or even liked by the opposite sex or even the same sex. She could never find someone who was remotely like her-or even was intelligent enough to hold up a conversation with. Everyone only cared about gossip and themselves. Not like she was much better; all she cared about was becoming a world famous chemist who would break through the medical field in forensics. In other words, she was labeled a freak right down to the smokey gray nail polish on her neat fingernails.
Blowing the cancer stick smoke into the face of the other male, she slipped away from him much to his protest and went on through the crowded hallways. She put the cigarette out on the wall and let it fall into someone's cup as she headed up the stairs. The further she was from the music, the less people were around until eventually, she managed to find an empty bedroom, cozy enough, and sat herself on the edge of the bed, lighting up another cigarette and keeping the light off. The moonlight spilling in made her look eerie but in that whole Nightmare-Before-Christmas sense. She was too busy wrapped up in how much of a failure this experiment was, she slightly jumped at the sound of the door opening, her bright eyes going straight to the person in hopes that once they saw her in there, they would simply leave her alone.
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tagged: open!
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Post by SHANE PIERCE HUDSON on Dec 9, 2010 21:28:10 GMT -5
 He was late. Like extremely late for a date, with some girl. Not a surprise there, because Shane was late for just about everything it seemed like. His band teacher used to tell him that his tardiness would catch up with him one day, but the old man told him a lot of things that he never listened too. He had a way of not listening to his elders, another flaw in his personality. But anyways Shane was late, and at the way he was moving he was not going to get there anytime soon. He was lying on his bed wrapped in a towel after just getting out of the shower. He really didn’t want to go out with this girl. The only reason he was doing it was because his roomate was forcing him too. If it had been anybody else he would have flat out told him no, but Shane owed it to the man, for all that he did for him. That and because the party he was supposed to be meeting her at was supposed to be sick!
Shane finished the last of his pixie stick he was eating before texting his friend that he would be there soon and closing his phone. Pixie sticks were his favorite kind of candy, and he was happy that despite the fact that he had grown up, that small detail hadn’t changed. He set his phone down his next to drum sticks and hopped off the bed. Walking over to his closet he began to gather his clothes for the day. He didn’t have the biggest closet in the world…actually what he had couldn’t really be classified as a closet, but he made do with it anyways. He was still a little sore from the wrestling match he and his roommate had had the night before. It was an epic battle, and they had broken a few things in the room, but it had definitely been fun. He rubbed the spot on his shoulder that got the most abuse. He knew it was going to bruise later. Opening his closet he threw on his a t-shirt, and a pair of blue jeans, before moving to the bathroom.
He was running a comb through his hair when his other roomate and his roomate’s girlfriend of the week walked in. , “Hey dude,” he said, “Don’t you have some place to be…like now?” “Yea…I’ll be out in a second,” he called from the bathroom, “I just gotta find my shoes.” He remembered he had kicked them off when he walked in from his practice yesterday, but he didn’t know where they went. He checked under him bed but didn’t see them there. He checked the closet, but didn’t see them there either. “Where did you go?” He mumbled standing up and letting out a sigh of frustration, before noticing them by the door. He picked them up and headed out the door. Wait…he was forgetting something. Cell phone. “I’m out I swear,” He said grabbing his cell phone, and keys, and walked out the door.
He was out the house and sitting in his car when he realized he had no idea what the hell this chick looked like He felt that was kind of slack on his part, he had known about this date for at least a week and now and still didn’t know the details of it, but in his defense he was he wasn’t a very detail oriented person. It took him 20 minutes to drive to the party, his mind drifting back to the previous night. It had been a wild night if he remembered correctly, lots of drinking going on. He had never been one to get massively hammered. What had happened? He was still slightly hung-over from the night before, and the low hum of his car was totally not helping his headache. He slowed his car down, his mind still on the party last night. Something important had happen, that he wasn’t remembering, and that bothered him a little. ‘Oh well,’ he thought.
He arrived at the party and it was in full swing. People were everywhere. He knew a good many of the people here...having partied with with a few a couple of times in the past. As he walked through he stopped to talk to a few people and waved to a few others, before getting himself a drink. Walking around he decided to check the place out, having never been here before. Shane opened the door, to a bedroom and noticed a girl on the bed. At first glance she didn’t look familiar, but the second glance wiggled a memory loose. Stepping into the room he closed the door behind him, “Um…do I know you?” he asked.
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Post by VIVIAN LEVIA DANIELS on Dec 9, 2010 21:50:12 GMT -5
Did she know him?
She knew people from the east coast, west coast, and southern United States and then she knew people from London. By knew she meant knew of and was generally in their circumference on a daily basis. This person...in the dark she couldn't see who he was. His voice was familiar, but she couldn't entirely put her finger on it. So without a second though, she reached over and turned the lamp on that was next to her on a night stand. Her eyes remained glued to his own and once she got a look at him, she knew exactly who he was.
Was it weird she remembered the face of the first guy who ever talked to her? Well, the first to ever talk to her and give her butterflies in her stomach. Something like that. It was a party in London that she and a few of her 'friends' snuck into because it was a college party and Vivian had only been sixteen at the time. She still dressed the same as back then: all black. Always. But her hair was longer, down her lower back and always up in a pony tail. She'd been in a corner, drunk off the music with a cheep beer in her hand when he'd approached her with a crooked smile and determination in his eyes. Maybe someone told him she was like the Virgin Mary or something. Who knew. But they ended up dancing, laughing, and just talking. She wasn't surprised when he didn't try to kiss her but what did surprise her was when he asked for her number but she never gave it to him. As much fun as she had, she denied herself the guilty pleasure and denied him such a privilege. It was too good to be true.
Now it was like de ja vu, him finding her by herself, dressed in black, completely confused by his first words, "I don't expect you to," her southern accent was thick, something the girls in London used to make fun of her for. She could say so many intelligent things but her damned accent made her come off as stupid. They used to call her the Virgin Mary, Freak, Queer American, Goth Whore. Most of the names didn't make sense, like the last one. She wasn't goth because she wasn't Satanic and she wasn't a whore because it was extremely well known that she was a full on virgin. Well, high school was over and had been for a few months now. She was a college freshman now and that was all that mattered. They didn't call her a Freak anymore. They just ignored her or praised her for her intelligence.
Hesitating a bit, she reached her slender hand out with the large onyx rose ring on her ring finger making her fingers look even thinner and fragile than they already were, "Vivian," she introduced herself. Wasn't that how this thing went? Well, the last time she met him, this was how it went. She awkwardly introduced herself after her asked her some random question to catch her attention. Then he introduced himself...but she couldn't remember his name. She'd have to work on her memory...she should have taken her pills before coming here. Maybe she'd remember his name and not feel so silly for reintroducing herself. Then again it had been a little less than a year ago. There was no way he would be able to remember some insignificant person such as herself. So she let bits of her dark blond locks fall in front of her bright blue eyes as her other hand brought the cigarette up to her full lips to take a drag. If she started over thinking what she was doing, she would really seem like a social retard.
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tagged: shane!
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Post by SHANE PIERCE HUDSON on Dec 11, 2010 22:44:42 GMT -5
The more time Shane spent in the room her, the more he felt like he had met her in a past life. But he couldn’t quite place her, and didn’t know where he could have met her. Specially since he didn’t really know that many people in America, having only been here a for a couple of months. Yet… he couldn’t quite shake the feeling, and then she turned on the light, and the memory came flowing back to him.
She was definitely a ghost from his past. A dream he had long forgotten, or thought he had. He could remember that night more so than any other night he had ever lived, every detail of it. He hadn’t been having the best time. It had been just another party, that his friend thrown. He couldn’t have not shown up, that and well he hadn’t had anything to do that night. He was trying to kill his boredom, by getting himself drunk but it wasn’t working, and that is when he had seen her.
He knew he wanted this girl to be his and he hadn’t even spoken to her yet. As he walked over to her, he tried to be cool, but well, he was slightly nervous. But he was determined to have her. The night had ended up being a complete surprise. They danced, laughed, talked, and had over ally had a good time. She hadn’t been like any girl he had ever met, partly because of that accent of hers, and partly because she was an American. He didn’t meet very many Americans. When it was all over, he kind of surprised himself when he didn’t try to kiss her and then again, he didn’t. He didn’t want her to be just another girl he fucked, and then walked away from. He asked for her number but she said no, and he had shrugged off her rejections figuring that he would see her again later in life, but he hadn’t ever seen her again after that party. Not until now…
Not getting her number remained his greatest mistake in life. Which was saying something; he had made a lot of mistakes in life, from his abuse of drugs, to his drinking problem. He couldn’t seem to win where life was concerned. But it seemed like fate was handing him another chance. He smiled when she spoke, her accent just as he remembered. He watched her move towards her, and took in her appearance. She was cute, in her all black attire. “Vivian…” He repeated taking her hand. She looked like an Vivian he supposed. He often played that game; deciding if someone's name "fit" their face or personality. If it didn't fit, he would run through other alternatives, trying to find a better name. That wouldn't be necessary for this person in particular, though. This Vivian just seemed to be an "Vivian." Her parents should be offered a congratulation. “Shane,” he said softly, “But I think you already knew that.” Her hand felt nice in his. A little small compared to his, and slightly on the fragile side, but it still felt good in his. He was silent for a few seconds, just watching her, before he spoke again. “I never thought I would see you again,” he said softly.
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Post by VIVIAN LEVIA DANIELS on Dec 12, 2010 0:26:30 GMT -5
A slight smile formed on her face when he said her name as if it made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside whenever someone said it...or whenever he said it despite only ever saying it a handful of times from what she could remember. This was the first time ever that she was glad she had that whole perpetual summer tan thing going on or the pink color that formed on her cheeks would have been extremely noticeable like such a color normally was on her older sister, Ruby, "Shane," she nodded, saying his name with him in unison without meaning to and slightly hoping he wouldn't catch that. She thought she didn't know his name but it turned out her memory had yet to fully fail her. Memory: one. Vivian: zero. Noting they were holding hands a bit longer than expected, she let her fingers fall to her side, grabbing a bit on the soft velvet fabric of her long skirt, nodding at his statement that she probably already knew his name. She didn't expect him to remember her.
She wasn't exactly the most memorable person on the planet.
When they'd talked, she'd told him all about her dreams of becoming some crazy scientist because it seemed like the world revolved around all the basic principles of it. She knew she sounded like a nerd but she couldn't help but gush about it because she was still ecstatic that she was so close to becoming everything she'd always wanted to be. Success was practically her life and that was probably because she had a lack of a social one. She didn't get all fan-girl on him and his ambitions, because she knew that would be creepy, but she had adored the fact that he was so artistic in the music realm. Back then, she used to tell herself they were polar opposites. She was concrete while he was flexible. She was mathematical while he was flow. Opposites that complimented each other like red and cyan, blue and yellow, green and magenta.
"The probability was highly unlikely," deep down she wanted to smack herself for sounded like such a gigantic nerd. Of course she had to think of Probability at a time like this! She figured she just didn't want to think about the butterflies in her stomach that were ready to burst with excitement because this time she was so going to give him her number...if he asked for it. She knew what those 'butterflies' meant. She had to write an entire paper on it as her final paper for Advanced Bio Chemistry her last year of schooling in London.The 'butterfly' feeling was caused by the release of epinephrine, or adrenaline, when one is nervous, pulling blood away from the stomach and sending it to the muscles. Thus it is felt during important events and could sometimes be referred to as the 'mating' call, signaling an attraction between two or more people. She liked the chemical explanation better. It kept her head from shutting down and letting her heart and inner unsatisfied temptations take over.
"So you're in America? Why leave London?" They'd talked about their hopes and dreams, about their lives and how they were, where they grew up but not how...Like covering all the basis without entirely covering them. She never told him her age because she thought he wouldn't take her seriously if he did. She didn't tell him about her family and that she was still in high school, just telling him she was a transfer student but never saying which school or what grade she was in. She'd been sixteen. What more could anyone expect of her? She was the tall sixteen year old freak of nature. Plain and simple. The fact he actually bothered to notice her was still a shock and sometimes, when she used to occasionally look back on it, she'd always wonder what on earth compelled him to go straight for the girl with legs way too long for her skinny frame, with hair as long as a hippie but tied up in some ultra neat and nerdy ponytail, who didn't seem to know any other type of attire than some all black gothed up nerdess. What must have ran through his mind? Maybe he thought she was some easy lay or something...It was times like these she wished she could read minds. It would make this so much easier.
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tagged: shane!
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Post by SHANE PIERCE HUDSON on Dec 16, 2010 0:44:01 GMT -5
Her smile, a sight he had often found himself daydreaming about. He had missed seeing it, even if he had only seen for a couple of hours for one night. Still… it was possibly one of his favorite parts about her, and whenever she smiled, Shane found himself smiling in return. His smile grew as she said his name as he said it. He had let out a small chuckle at that. He was glad that she hadn’t forgotten, him, because he sure as hell hadn’t forgotten her. She had forever been ingrained in his memory, and he was almost positive that he would never forget her. He looked down at their still linked hands and his smile changed into a small smirk, but she quickly let go of his hand, even if he was reluctant to do so.
She was definitely unlike any girl he had ever had the pleasure of making acquaintances with, and that wasn’t a bad thing. They were complete and utter opposites, Shane and her. While they both had dreams and ambitions, she had her life a tad bit more put together than she did. If he remembered correctly she wanted to be a scientist of some sort. It wasn’t everyday he found a girl who wanted to be a scientist; actually it wasn’t even every day that you found a girl who even liked science. He was quite intrigued. Female scientists were a rare species in the world, and he had to commend her for that aspiration. Shane was big on equality when it came to men and women; he wasn’t exactly sure where he got it from, simply because his father was a sexist pig, but still. He liked to think that almost anything a man could do, a woman could do it just as well. He actually really like the idea of them being opposites of each other. Partly because as the old saying goes, opposites do attract, and well that was one thing he could not deny he was undeniably attracted to her.
Shane smiled again hearing her response to his statement. She was a smart one, and at times he had found it hard to understand what he was saying. She had to be some sort of genius or something. Just had to be. He could tell she was nervous, and his smile grew a tad bit. She was cute, he observed one more time, his eyes traveling up her body one more time. He definitely liked what he was seeing, and she was just as she had remembered her to be. She had beautiful brown hair, and a smoking body. Not wanting to seem like the pervert some people believed he was, he opened his mouth to speak, “I had hoped it wouldn’t be,” Shane said softly in reply to her statement, and that had been true. A part of himself had convinced himself that their encounter had just been a dream, a long glorious dream. But another part held on to the fact that one day they would meet again. He would find her and and…he didn’t know what he expected to arise from this encounter. He knew that he didn’t want to lose her again…but he didn’t know.
He ran a hand through his hair, “Uh…yeah I’m in America now, have been for the past few months.” He was quiet for a few seconds thinking about the second half of her question. . ‘Why… why… why?’ he muttered quietly to himself. Why had he left London? It’s not like he had a good life there…okay maybe that was a lie, his life was shitty, and going down the drain. If he was really honest with himself, the reason was because if he had stayed in London he’d probably be wouldn’t be trying to have this clean lifestyle, and would be shooting up tonight, and if he was really really honest with himself, he knew that if he had stayed in London any longer he’d probably would have killed himself by now. But he couldn’t very well tell her that now could he? “Oh you know… just had to get away,” He said shrugging his shoulders. He pulled a cigarette out of his back pocket, and began to smoke it. He didn’t smoke often, but began to do it more regularly over the past couple of months since he quit his drug of choice. They were pretty much the only things keeping him sane these days. “What brings you to the grand city of New York?” he asked taking a long drag from his cigarette.
ooc: sorry it took me so long, stupid finals, but i'm done with finals so no more distractions |
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Post by VIVIAN LEVIA DANIELS on Dec 16, 2010 23:08:53 GMT -5
She took another drag from her own cigarette,cracking the window open a bit to keep the air circulating but not enough to make her nipples freeze since it was winter and New York City had a tendency to make them even harsher than they really were meant to be. Listening to his reasoning, she nodded in complete agreement. She knew what that was like, just wanting to get away, to change the surrounding area in hopes that you would change along with it. She thought maybe living in Hollywood was what made her so awkward and anti social so she went to a social place, London, but it only made her worse. She just seemed to draw more within herself because she simply...didn't know how to communicate or completely express herself other than through her grades, her accomplishments, her impeccable resume and portfolio. She measured her life based on her accomplishments which many would find pathetic. Her success was measured monetarily and in knowledge. The more of each, the more successful she was, correct? To others it just made her seem pathetic, hopeless, and awkward and how others viewed her, many times, did make her feel so uncomfortable under their judging eyes. She didn't know why she cared so much, even if it seemed like she didn't care much about anything than herself.
"I was accepted in Columbia with a full scholarship," she took another drag, flicking the ashes into a large red cup filled with unknown liquids sitting on the nightstand. She hesitated for a second, realizing she just might have outed herself on her age. She was suppose to be smart and she was far from forgetful...That was the thing with Shane. She didn't feel like he was totally judging her and like everything was so much easier; like the pressure was lifted from her thin shoulders and she could rest for the next couple hours while in his company. He didn't have to do much and she felt...pretty? Was that even possible? She had a strange urge to go over to the mirror and fix her hair to make sure it didn't look like a hot mess and smooth out her clothing and maybe even try to fix herself up...something.
God, she was such a damn virgin it was so NOTICEABLE. If he didn't know she was a seventeen year old virgin, then he was so damn blind. Everyone knew she was a virgin and they constantly reminded her about her failure in the realm of testosterone and attraction. Mating obviously was not her expertise. She was only nervous because of how she felt around Shane. She'd never felt this way around anyone and with him just looking at her, she felt her cheeks burn a bright tomato red, "London wasn't working for me either," she gave a sheepish grin, unable to admit that she felt so alienated even when she was with so called 'friends'. They were into drugs, sex, partying, boys, and living in the moment and all she could do was have the future on her mind. How would her actions now affect her future? Could the outcome be negative or positive? "Talking to you is becoming increasingly difficult," she scrunched up her nose, knowing honesty probably wasn't the best approach but, well, she wasn't a liar. Never had been and never would be because she never had to lie. The one and only time she did, she got grounded for a week because she said she was in school but she skipped it to take a bus to Hollywood Boulevard to a hotel there for a science and technology convention. She'd been nine at the time...She swore she wouldn't lie again after that. Her punishment had been to go with her brother to a dance or something...and she disliked social gatherings like that.
"Because you make me feel...funny," she glanced over at him and then back down at her cigarette in a nervous wreck, "like I finally understand that whole 'butterflies in your stomach' saying now."
Oh what a stupid, silly girl.
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It's all good! I can be patient! lol :]
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