[IC] some of them want to abuse you « Thread Started on Mar 1, 2009, 7:42pm »
ooc; Mmkay. So, Robby and I are doing the main Sideways plot. If you want in, talk to Robby or myself. Everyone is aloud in; however, random jump-ins could confuse stuff. Just a warning: this roleplay is going to be pg-13+. If you cannot deal with violence, profanity and the possibility of mild, sexual content, I do not suggest this roleplay for you.
ic; The couch was bloated with residue of family life. Wedged between the slightly crusty and stained cervices formed by the cushions, lurked stale Cheerios, M & Ms, Barbies and a few discarded hair clips. Syllvan ran his fingers across the middle cushion. Butting between the plush-like cleft – Syll located the television remote.
He held it limply in his hand and instinctually flicked the “on” button. From behind the glass slant of the TV, stared Dora the Explorer. Her brown eyes seemed more vivid than the surrounding reality. Before Dora could form another word with her animated lips, Syllvan lazily flipped to channel 11.
A week had passed and still, no Amber Alert. The news simply spewed the typical drivel which seemed (at least to Syllvan) to belong to another world: far, far away from his own (an unattended baby had baked to death in a car; someone new was running for mayor; a fire had destroyed three homes in another city)…
It all drifted past him in a spongy haze, like a song in an alien language. Syllvan slumped into the couch. The smell of it was comforting: an aromatic mixture of the scents of his lover and child. Burying his face in the folds of the fabric – Syllvan submerged into a deep, deep sleep.
***
A cool, abusive wind ripped through Syllvan’s hair. Strange, that the air would be so chilly at this time of year. He felt several, repetitive, cold stings against his skin. Rain, it seemed. But why rain? Still drowsy, Syllvan opened his eyes. Asphalt lingered below his nose. The scents of Klaa and Somi were missing.
Syllvan hoisted his torso up instantly. He found himself on the shoulder of a highway – the only thing separating him from fate as road kill was a strict, white line which marked the boundaries of the street. Nausea crept to the back of his throat.
“What the hell?” He breathed, fear trembling in his lungs. This was not his home. This was not a place he knew. The highway was not a place for sleeping.
Syllvan drew a breath in his lungs and held it there for a good 7 seconds. The air felt lighter, more lively than usual. Almost pure. The highway at his left, too, seemed far more tangible than the roadways of his home. Rain in this place registered on his skin with a vibrant freshness he’d never quite felt. Everything here was, undoubtedly, real. Realer than his usual reality, anyway.
The highway spiraled into the inky-blue darkness of what may be night here. Syllvan could see endless waves and curves in the road ahead. Walking was out of the question – even if it was safe, he had no idea where he would be heading. Perhaps toward the pinkish green light, pressing its luminescent fingers into the horizon.
Joined: Jan 2009 Gender: Female Posts: 17 Karma: 0
Re: [IC] some of them want to be abused « Reply #1 on Mar 6, 2009, 8:16pm »
Rolling down the highway was a sleek midnight blue 1975 Pontiac Firebird Formula, it’s 400 engine roaring with pride extreme pride as it’s driver pressed hard on the gas petal. Windows had been rolled down to let the loud heavy metal 80’s rock pour out from the eight track that was set under the drivers seat. The owner of this beast was a dark brown furred male who rested one hand on the steering wheel and his elbow stick out of the window. A grin was plastered on his maw. His lips began mouthing to the lyrics of Photograph by Def Leopard, which was blaring his speakers at the time.
This was his dream car and only in Sideways was he able to experience the feeling of driving it.
Next to him in the passenger seat sat a gray furred female wearing skintight clothing. White sunglasses covered her multicolored eyes. Behind them her brows arched inward in confusion as she looked about. She then turned towards the male, shifting her weight on the black interior, “Dirk honey? Why are we in your Pontiac?” She went unheard for she was being drowned out by the music. Leaning in a bit she reached for the knob for the volume and turned to it to the left. Def Leopard was now a mere whisper. Dirk, for a split second, snapped his eyes from the road and looked at her. “Kirochka, what?” he spoke, slightly irritated that she had the nerve to turn down what was his second favorite type of music.
“I had asked you: why are we in your Pontiac?” she questioned him again.
Dirk’s eyes fixed back on to the road, “There is someone we have to pick up. Who, I don’t know.”
Kirochka’s face pinched into confusion again, why hadn’t he told her this before? “What? You don’t know this person but you persist to pick this stranger up?”
He shrugged, “You ask too many questions. I’ll explain later.” Not giving her a chance to speak again, Dirk pointed into the direction where a lone figure stood at the side of the highway. “I suppose that’s him.”
He was coming up fast so he took his foot off the gas petal and slowly hit the breaks. The Pontiac came to a perfect stop next to Syllvan. He flipped on the emergency lights so that the other vehicles would avoid him. Then he looked at him and said, “Looks likes you need a lift buddy.”
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