daydreamer (open)

[GENE AMELIA LAFE]

CAN'T YOU FEEL SOMETHING REALLY GOOD IN YOUR
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[/font][/size] WORLD!?[/center]Gene couldn’t sleep so she came to the arts and crafts room. This was a place where she always count on when her world turned dark. This was one of those times. There was nothing wrong back at home or at school but she couldn’t shake off this uneasiness which lingered in her heart. She felt confused and frustrated. Why was she feeling this way? Then again she always had mood swings. Her mood was like the tide. You could be having a pleasant conversation but then out of nowhere it could turn ugly. Gene was an unpredictable individual. You had to think twice before you spent your time with her. However if you were someone she held of importance she may not snap at you, unless you get on her nerves of course.

Tonight she had an awful dream. A dream which had made her wake up in the middle of the night gasping for air. It was horrible. Gene fell asleep early because she had exams to do the next day. Too bad her efforts had failed. It would have been nice if this female got some needed rest. With the dream she just had who could sleep.

The short haired brunette walked slowly out of her dorm and into the classroom. She stumbled a few times because she wasn’t fully awake. She didn’t give herself enough time to assess the dream she had earlier. Gene was too afraid to. Her mind needed to be elsewhere so art or music seemed the best way to do it. She carefully carried her art supplies under her arm. She wondered if she would be able to draw anything after what had happened. It was better than staying in her room worrying. Gene didn’t change at all. Still in her white and blue pajamas. She only wore a robe to keep her warm. Gene was lucky to have remembered to bring along her slippers.

Her eyes wondered from left to right to see if anyone was around. After she checked to see that no one was around she slowly went inside. Gene slowly closed the door behind her so that she wouldn’t make a sound. She didn’t even bother to turning the lights on. The other students were probably asleep anyway. As for the professors she wondered if they have noticed her. She hoped they hadn’t, though in the back of her mind she picked a teacher with a ruler in their hand. Their face expression wasn’t pleasing at all. In fact, their eyes just looked at her in disappointment. Who knows what they would have done if they found Gene.

Gene yawned and stretched before taking a seat. Standing perfectly still she opened her bag and took out a pencil. Her notepad which contained all of her work by far was in front of her. She was supposed to finish her art homework but decided to draw what she saw in her dream. Without much thought she began sketching. She started off slow but her pace picked up after a while.

On the piece of paper was a circular glass which had a person inside. It was her. The gal was curled up in the form of a ball. She wore a white short sleeve dress. On both of her wrists were white slender bows. In the background was nothing. It was pitch black. Well, except for a few broken shards that was around the circular object which held Gene captive. The dream she had was so real she couldn’t help but feel a little helpless.

[/color]THE VOICE!? - eh, i could have done better. >___<;
[/li][li][/color]THE SONG WHICH SPOKE TO ME!? - mellow dream = kawamura yumi
[/li][li][/color]WHERE'S THE MUSE!? - 80% 8U
[/li][li][/color]RP BUDDY!? - no one in particular, it's open for all
[/li][li][/color]THE CREATIVITY MASTER!? - rp template made by yours truly, me of course![/li][/ul][/blockquote][/size]

[guy]

High C.

A solitary finger slid down the white keys, traipsing patiently, until reaching the ebony white key, a miniature and dulled variation of the same finger clearly visible within the shiny surface the two hands rested lightly upon.

Rested, of course, is a poor choice of words. It insinuates a peaceful sense of relaxation, a mood and tempo best suiting the artistic talents of Mssr. Yankee Doodle. Not that the man wasn't half bad at the music righting business in his own right. It simply wasn't to Abele's tastes was all.

That small little pinky hesitated over the key it had finally decided upon. Not in the same way a groundhog would find it's bodily appendages limp at the sight of it's own fading shadow. Nor did it stop in distraught, torn between the possibility of itching up for C sharp.

The hesitancy that gripped Abele Fulvia's hand was no small amount of fear.

Fear. A lively little emotion. It had an age-old way about messing with a person's very fiber of being, bringing weathered testaments to fall before it's bored breath, and permanently taking a soul and retrofitting the person as it saw fit.

Fear of the tempest. Fear of the dark. Fear of the unknown.

Fear of the calm before a storm. Fear of the scathing light la polizia have sitting upon their desks. Fear of the inevitable.

But what was most strange was it's place here.

Abele was never afraid. Never. Never ever. Never ever in ever's ever for all of ever so long as ever exists and has ever existed.

Confidence was his name, for most all intents and purposes. It positively oozed from his every pore, from the sharp black locks that sat upon his hair to the equally black sole of his Sunday Best shoes. For so long as he could remember back-- which is no mean feat when you can go back upwards of fifteen years-- every time his gray eyes flitted about a room, his regrettably average body never once hesitated. His body-- the foundation upon all his words and actions rested-- was supposed to be at his beck and call at any given time. A basic fortitude to value.

Sound, his reasoning may very well be. Regardless, it did absolutely nothing to move that little finger.

Abele allowed a small sigh to escape past his lips as he pulled the pinky from the array of the piano's tools, closing his eyes all the while. In doing so, he wouldn't have to see the dissipating of a small white gasp of smoky air-- a breath, chilled by the night air.

Mrhhg. So he decided not to turn the AC on. He didn't want it's hum to let anyone know he was there, so...

What he would give for a night brighter than the past day...

It was then that an emotional sway overtook his fearful inhibitions. His eyes, now lit with the blaze of an inner fire, opened in response to his hands sliding up through the air, from the warm refuge of his lap to the cold and barren white of the keyboard. His shoulders taut, his wrist raised, the fingers came down.

And as the glissando stretched across the grand piano's wooden fibers, a small part of Abele noted that his pinky was firmly situated on C sharp.

Though not one to linger, a small stretch of grin creased the faint edges of his mouth, forming a slight smile across the face of this young man.

His hand flew down to make a G chord, flowing into the somber tune of his song.

His caution would serve him little, though. Despite taking such extravagant measures to avoid detection-- from only bringing a pocket flashlight, leaving the air conditioning as is, to packing lightly-- though he wasn't adverse to a comfortable sweater that wasn't exactly up to butler standards... Abele's broad tune was ill matched for the environment he currently found himself in.

For as the umpteenth grace note did grace the piano, an undignified C sharp... though some faded, of course... could be heard from within the neighboring Arts and Crafts Room.

His presence would not go unnoticed, as he had feared, after all.

<sup>musique pour la tristesse de xion


sheet music for a piano solo, glow-in-the-dark silly putty, miniature flashlight, a mechanical pencil with plenty of 0.7 mm lead, a picture in a frame


Not as detailed as I'd hoped for. I'm not usually one for grand exposition, but I am trying to improve at this whole "writing" thing. Note to self: expand on surroundings, describe Abele in more detail.


705</sup>

[GENE AMELIA LAFE]

I CAN SEE YOU LOST IN A MELLOW DREAM
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[/font][/size] . . .!?[/center]For a couple of hours she sketched until an hour more and she fell asleep. Her head was gently placed on top of her drawing. Her mind had wandered off into the dream as if to continue what was stopped. Like a video cassette that was put on pause. Gene was drawn back into the dream which terrified her. She was held captive in the circular glass prison. All around her were broken shards of glass and everything was pitch dark. Finally the peaceful sleeping girl awoke and gasped. Her hands pounded on the window. None of her attempts to break the glass had worked. She sat back and pouted. Gene tried to speak but no word fell out of mouth. She tried again and again but nothing seemed to escape her lips. Frustrated she gave up. Gene winced. There was something unsettling in the air. She could feel it. The pressure in the air changed all of the sudden. Just breathing seemed to hurt. Gene stayed still and looked up. A spotlight of light shinned above her. It was so bright she had to close her eyes and adjust her eyes to this bright light.

After a while she opened them fully and looked ahead. The spotlight now shinned elsewhere. It went ahead, not too far away from where she stood. Then out of nowhere she heard a sound. It was light and mesmerizing. It had this soft tune which was catchy. Like a moth to a flame Gene wondered what it was. She was curious as to who played this wonderful tune. As stubborn as she was Gene was determined to get out of this prison which held her captive. Using both of her hands she pounded on the window with all of her might. Finally it shattered into a million of pieces. She had to admit she was afraid of falling because it appeared that there was nothing that could hold her up. Despite everything that showered in darkness there was still a ground which held her weight. She smiled and ran towards the light. Just as she was this close in escaping she fell downwards. Slowly but surely she finally reached the bottom.

Before Gene could finish her odd yet intriguing dream she was woken up by a sound. It was more like someone playing on the piano. They must have messed up because of the loud and horrid sound which escaped the instrument. The teenager started to worry if one of the staff had found out that she was inside the school. No was allowed here at night. Maybe they saw her and decided to make that loud sound to make her get up. She probably deserved it but couldn’t they just tap her shoulder. Then again she was a deep sleeper that almost nothing can wake up unless woken up by something loud.

Who was that now? Is it a teacher or student? Maybe they too couldn’t sleep. Maybe they too had a bad dream? Gene looked back down and noticed she did in fact finish her drawing. She sighed and closed her notepad. She slowly got up and put everything back in her bag. She was not afraid this time to find out who made that sound. Whether it was a student or professor it didn’t matter now. The curiosity would kill her if she didn’t go and find out. Her hand covered her face as she felt a little sluggish. "Ugh..I should be careful next time. I can’t just get up too quickly. For some reason it gives me a head and the room starts to spin. It’s no wonder my mother advised me to take things slow when you just woke up." Gene walked to the room which she thought she heard the sound from. "I’ll have to follow her advice next time." She whispered to herself.

When she finally entered the room there was someone by the piano. A teenager like her was there. "I see that I’m not alone." Gene said as she walked over. "Couldn’t sleep?"

[/color]THE VOICE!? - thanks for joining this thread. :3
[/li][li][/color]MY INSPIRATION!? - the cross = within temptation & what if = amilie autumn
[/li][li][/color]THE SONG WHICH SPOKE TO ME!? - mellow dream = kawamura yumi
[/li][li][/color]WHERE'S THE MUSE!? - 80%
[/li][li][/color]THE CREATIVITY MASTER!? - rp template made by yours truly, me of course![/li][/ul][/blockquote][/size]

[guy]

Abele's hands jerked away from the piano's keys midstroke, the sides of the fingers playing many an accidental as the black haired boy's body attempted to stand and twist to face the newcomer in the same motion, a breathless mutter of "Che fortuna marcio--" hidden as wood screamed against wood as the piano's bench seat slid harshly against the finely waxed boards of the music room's floor. Arms covered in the black cotton polymer of pyjamas went flailing as the piano bench did the same, the butler-in-training leaping out to grasp the falling bench before it could be done any damage.

He did not want to know how much it cost.

A hand caught the soft seat's edge, his fingernails meeting wood, his palm meeting plush. Or something far more luxurious, but equaly far beyond Abele's meager knowledge. The trademark sigh of relief escaped his chapped lips. One, two motions of the arms, and the seat was put back in it's rightful place.

The bag-- a commoner's item at first glace, made of what seemed to be denim (well due a shudder) beside the bench remained as it was, impassive and indifferent to the bench's woes.

Curious, grey eyes looked upwards, through dark hair and dark night, at the newcomer to the Music Room. They met a dim sight, the light of the room coming soley from a flashlight seated atop the piano in an upwards fashion. Through the murky veil, however, Abele was able to determine a few certainties...

• The newcomer was not a teacher.
  
• The newcomer was not dressed especially fine.
  
• The newcomer's voice clearly identified her as being... well, a her.
  

A Lady.

"U-uh..." seemed the most the Butler's mouth, made difficult to operate due to the cold, could handle.

Well. This was awkward. But this was also as much time as he had to think. Abele moved instantly to the first option his mind raised.

Abele straightened. His spine grew straight as a rod, his arms fell to his sides, but his shoulders remained loose. His face took on a professional appearance to boot.

His first inclination was to avoid any kind of trouble. Though not a teacher, the Lady was unknown-- in the best interest of avoiding any more problems today, it was best to go with the safest route at all times.

And a Butler is subservient to a Lady at all times.

A quick grunt of a cough followed this line of thought. One cleared throat later, Abele was ready for the Lady.

Not strictly speaking true. But it was simple. Expected.

Besides-- being found playing piano at the dead of night in your pyjamas was embarrising enough for one day.

<sup>piccolo resto


sheet music for a piano solo, glow-in-the-dark silly putty, miniature flashlight, a mechanical pencil with plenty of 0.7 mm lead, a picture in a frame


hey, don't thank me yet. awkward moment, anyone? xD
( lol Abele's afraid Gene's a snitch. XD )


454</sup>

[GENE AMELIA LAFE]

JUST PLAIN WORDS ALIGNED IN SPACE
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[/font][/size] . . .!?
HOPE TO GRASP A LIGHT GOING THROUGH THE MIND[/center]Both of her eyebrows rose as her eyes widened. Surprised at what just happened. It was unfortunate that the music floor was damaged in the process. She felt like it was her fault that this occurred. This was her second favorite location when she needed to think. She was after all a violinist. Gene had many talents. However the two most precious and most noticeable was being an artist and violinist. Gene will now always have this as a burden memory if ever she was to look down at the floor. Then again the principal will pay for a new one to be installed or fix it with ease. The male in front of her didn’t have to worry about her being a tattletale. She was in no way a snitch. Her motto was that snitches get stitches. She was that cruel and very vengeful, so be careful. She wouldn’t get mad, she’ll just ignore it in your face, but afterwards Gene will keep an eye on her foe. Her father once told her that, "don’t get mad get even." Gene would then plan ways to get back at you. Gene might publicly humiliate you, take something you hold so precious in your heart, or break you. And it didn’t mean physically but mentally. This lady was a force to be reckoned with. Hell hath no fury for a woman’s scorn. If you told on her or did something to drive her to the edge, you’ll get an angry wolf on your hands, though if you were prepared for the consequences you could perhaps have it in you to tattle. You could say that the famous quote, "an eye for an eye" fit Gene very well.

If it was necessary and if someone did found out that the two were here outside the curfew hours, Gene would graciously bow down in blaming herself. And no, it wouldn’t be for this person, but because music was something very important to her. As a child the only way to gain her parents attention (well mainly her father’s attention) was through her music, her violin. Among with catching her father’s attention through music, she could also catch his attention through her works of art. Those were the only things which made Gene valuable in her father’s eyes. Was it because she was female that he avoided all contact from his only daughter? In some ways yes it was. Her father wanted a male to be born but she was the only one who ventured out her mom’s belly. He needed a male heir to gain possession of the family business. So far in all of her years being alive her father has never asked if she was willing to take such a responsibility. It broke her heart many times. Gene felt like a lost wandering butterfly. She might have been beautiful in appearance but her beauty, talent, whatever you wish to call it never gained the one person’s attention. The poor gal suffered many times because of this.

It was as if someone drove a knife in her heart and left it there. This terrible feeling made Gene sometimes bitter towards other males. It was somewhat personal. She tried to reason with herself that it wasn’t the others fault but was she wrong? Did she have any right to blame anyone? In her mind, heart, and soul she thought she did. She would blame everyone if she needed to. Gene would do anything to drive the despair away from her saddened heart. Even if she had fallen from grace she would do it to keep her from going mad.

Gene concluded that the male before her was indeed a butler and not something else. After how he acted she was sure of her findings. She shook her head. Gene disliked being called that. She understood that this school had a system that made others call people a certain way, but she sort of hated it. The whole butler and lady theme wasn’t her cup of tea. She sort of enjoyed being off on her own, why couldn’t she remain that way. It was foolish of her parents to take her here. She felt like an odd and uneven puzzle piece which didn’t fit in with the other neat pieces. "You can call me Gene um uh…" Her right hand rose slightly as if telling the other to respond back with his name. Gene looked at the damaged floor. "Eh…you don’t have to worry about what had just occurred. I won’t tell a soul. Besides…I would also get into trouble if they had found out I was here. It’s past my curfew so I would rather not cause any trouble if at all possible." She bluntly said.

[/color]THE VOICE!? - *gasps* D8 never! gene isn't a tattletale. as my high school pals used to say, "snitches get stitches!!!!" omg! *is drowned by sorrow* i'm becoming a gangsta!? what? ahhhh!!!
[/li][li][/color]MY INSPIRATION!? - high and mighty color = good bye, d'espairsray = kohaku & ellegarden = space sonic
[/li][li][/color]THE SONG WHICH SPOKE TO ME!? - mellow dream = kawamura yumi
[/li][li][/color]WHERE'S THE MUSE!? - 80-90% *___* yes! inspirational music come to me. X3
[/li][li][/color]THE CREATIVITY MASTER!? - rp template made by yours truly, me of course![/li][/ul][/blockquote][/size]