Angel with a knife fetish (Fivvy/Open)

[Alexander A Williams]

Click-clank click-clank click-clank. The knife went as it nimbly moved around the young child's fingers. Opening and closing with each flashy trick that the androgynous teen did with the weapon, causing the butterfly knife to create the repetitive noise. Each time just barely avoiding slicing open his fingers with the edge of the blade. Though the red stitches that decorated them were a clear indicator that Addison had not been born this with particular skill set, rather learned through a great deal of trial and error. Click-clank click-clank click-clank. The knife went as students gave Alexander odd looks when they passed by. His large black-and-red hues stared at each and everyone of them with a bored expression. Like a porcelain doll that could stare directly into their souls, and see all of their sins as if they were clearly laid out before him. 

"Just keep walking." "Just don't make eye contact." "What a freak." They said in hush voices as they hurried past the raven-haired teen. Wishing to avoid upsetting another one of the school's crazies. An assumption made from the sudden influx of them that had plagued the island like the Black Death. And they were right. Addison fell right into that category. But unlike his fellow manics, Addison hadn't left a trail of corpses in his wake.... yet.  

Currently, the Little Devil was debating wither, or not he should indulge himself in the fun. With the only thing holding him back being a small little voice in the back of his head telling him not to. It argued that a spree of mindless murders, while potentially a great deal of fun, would be meaningless if a handful of other bat-shit-crazy fruitcakes were already doing it. His actions would just become lost in history. Forever forgotten in the mess of blood and gore. "I don't know what to do!" He whined as he threw his knife high into the air. The blade twirling as it went up, and came back down. Addison's eyes still watching the people walk past him as he caught it and threw it. Causing it to fly directly in-front of another, and get stuck in a tree hilt deep. 

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WEARING *
TAG * 
WORDS *
LYRICS * Breaking Benjamin
NOTES * 
"Your character speaking."
Your character thinking.
CREDITS * ROZZ @ CAUTION!

[Simon Alexandre]

It'd been a while since the boy had felt he'd gotten a proper break. Being a prefect really hadn't been 'all that' for him so far, although he had no intention of quitting. With the mess of all the paperwork and having to clean up after other students, the short, white-haired boy had gotten little to no time to himself. Without a doubt, he still loved the job no matter how hard he had to work, as it gave him the opportunity to help people around him, and it kept his mind from drifting. Regardless, the few moments he was both off-duty and out of class were treasured, and this was one of these times. He was still wearing his uniform with an air of professionalism that was uncommon for such a young adult, although there were black rings under his eyes and he had a certain slouch in his posture that indicated his true fatigue. He'd barely slept properly since he'd gotten on the island, the new environment bringing his nightmares back almost as strong as they'd ever been. His roommate had tried to be sympathetic, but the worry that Simon would say something while asleep that might give away what happened to him was overwhelming.

Now, the original intention of wandering the courtyard was to get himself tired enough to take a nap. He had a couple hours to himself, and he was excited to roll into bed and fall straight asleep once he'd worn himself out. However, because of his mental fatigue, his awareness of his surroundings had decreased significantly. The people passing him were a blur, with him barely registering any of their faces or what they were doing. This was a very rare thing for the young individual, partially because it was such a bad idea for someone as skittish as him. That's why, when the knife barely skimmed the tip of his nose, he nearly had a heart attack.

Jumping awake, Simon whirled around to face the direction where the knife had come from. His knees were bent and he was in a fighting stance, prepared to face the attacker if it came to that. However, instead of the terrifying, tall murderer he expected to see, his eyes fell upon a small...girl? She was shorter than he, and, although she seemed physically strong, she seemed to pose little threat. That is, until he noticed her eyes. They were larger than he was used to, and that would've given her an appearance of innocence had it not been for their colour. They were a mixture of two eerie colours of red and black, creating an almost demonic look for the young girl. His immediate instinct was to tense all of his muscles and prepare to leap away from another attack, but something told him not to. He didn't know who this girl was, and it was not right of him to assume such terrible things of her just from her eyes. He, himself, had discoloured violet eyes and he knew that appearances didn't mean much, so he chastised himself for his own original judgement.

Simon's eyes flickered to where the knife had embed itself in the tree. Curious, he walked over to it and grabbed it by the hilt, yanking it out. It resisted a lot to his effort, but, thanks to gymnastics giving him a strong upper body, he was able to pull it out of the tree with seemingly no effort. The fact that she'd managed to get it in so deeply into the tree from a throw was almost as unnerving as it was impressive. With the knife held unthreateningly in his hand, Simon approached the girl and gave her a calm, relaxed smile. "I think you might've dropped this, by accident," he said quietly, voice sore from overuse. Of course, the throw had been far from a 'drop' or an 'accident', but he hoped his light-hearted comment would keep the girl from feeling uncomfortable.

While returning the knife to the girl, Simon noted the stitches that lined her features. They were oddly red, matching her eyes. His body shivered in response to it, almost instinctively disgusted by the unnaturalness of it, but he pushed that thought away quickly. He refused to allow himself to act unfairly towards the girl. "Be more careful with the thing," the prefect mused, trying to rub the tiredness out of his eyes, "You were very close to hitting me." He was trying to shove his tendencies away, but the more he overanalyzed the situation the more distrusting he grew of the girl. However, he was not about to let that show to her, hence why Simon made the effort to be calm, relaxed, and kind to her.

[Alexander A Williams]

"Mishaps are like knives, that either serve us or cut us, as we grasp them by the blade or the handle."

"I don't know what to do!" Addison sent his plaintive cry into the heavens above, hoping that some religion's deity would  take pity on him, and supply him with some source of entertainment. Then as if his prayers had been heard his attention was caught by the sound of someone jumping in freight. The Little Devil's eyes rolled down from their skyward gaze, and turned toward the platinum haired beauty before him. "Adorable." The raven-haired teen said in an amused tone. With an equally amused smirk forming on his features once he saw that Simon had dropped into a battle stance, ready to take on whatever monster had thrown their knife at him.

And judging by his expression, he didn't expect the person sitting in the bench to be as small as Alexander. A fact that did not go unnoticed by the puppeteer - it took everything the teen had not to burst into a fit of laughter. His lips trembled with the effort as he tried to maintain his smirk, not wanting to scare off a potential toy so soon. Though, unbeknownst to Addison, Simon was already chastising himself for his initial instinct.

Unbeknownst to Addison, the mouse was already luring himself into the trap.  

The odd mixture of black and red followed the silver teenager's gaze to the knife, and watched as he pulled it out from the tree. An impressive feat considering how deeply embedded it was. "....." He remained quiet as the over male walked over, and returned the weapon to him. His eyes dropping to the knife as he mused over the boy's words. Accident? Surely the Prefect was not stupid enough to think Addison had somehow vertically dropped a knife hilt-deep into a tree that was over ten feet away. Click-Clank. A moment later Addison flipped the butterfly knife over his fingers, and back to close it.

"Do you believe in fate?" As the words left his glossy lips, Addison looked back up at the boy. His eyes appearing to glow like neon blood. The power of his mutation flowing through his body to help him give that dramatic effect. "Some people would say you were destine to be almost hit by me." He completely ignore the rest of what Simon had said, and went on with his rambling. "Or maybe it was luck. After all, not many people have such a deadly weapon thrown at their head, and live to tell the tale." He said with a smirk as he hopped up on the bench, and crouched. His rear resting on his heels as his hands rested on his knees. "Either way, can't complain since it brought someone as beautiful as you to me." 

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WEARING *
TAG * 
WORDS *
LYRICS * Breaking Benjamin
NOTES * 
"Your character speaking."
Your character thinking.
CREDITS * ROZZ @ CAUTION!

[Simon Alexandre]

Each and every one of Simon's hairs felt as if they were standing on edge, despite his overwhelming fatigue. It was something he was used to: it happened almost every time he met someone new. The skittish teenager couldn't help but get dominated by pessimistic thoughts about whether or not he'd make it out of each encounter alive. It didn't help that, this time, he was speaking with an individual who'd just happened to throw a knife at his face...and just missed. Taking a slow breath in, he urged himself to relax and he faced the other girl with a steady gaze.

The girl's way of speaking wasn't just odd - it was unnatural. It was slow and precise, drawling on almost as if she was trying to tempt the prefect closer. It might've worked, had it not been...too perfect. Maybe he was just being paranoid, but it was reminiscent of what Simon imagined an angel to sound like. And that tended to be a very bad thing on an island filled with superhuman kids. This flawlessness of her voice gave Simon a hovering suspicion of the girl's true abnormality, although it likely should've done the opposite. The words spoken were far from comforting, too, as she referred to the whole event with the knife as if it was little more than a daily activity. How many times had she actually hit someone? He knew how it felt to be stabbed...he didn't want to deal with it again. All of these thoughts caused a tingle in Simon's lower back, which grew stronger the more she proceeded speaking. It soon evolved into a violent shudder that ran up his spine and sent goosebumps rippling across his skin. His mind was struggling to gain control of itself, as he alternated between remembering the past and existing in the present. However, he managed to snap himself back to reality through a reminder of his position as a prefect. He wasn't just supposed to act calm and presentable for his own sake: it was for the school's too. With this, Simon regained his composure and stood up straight.

"No, ma'am," he started, returning to his attitude of formality out of pure habit, "I believe fate is a ridiculous notion. It's designed to make people feel better about the decisions they make, nothing more. Although, I'll admit that sometimes it's best to believe in things such as that for the sake of one's happiness." He struggled to keep his voice calm, only managing to do so by forcing himself to give off an appearance of vague boredom and fatigue. Perhaps if he tried to create a facade of confidence, the girl wouldn't appear threatening. However, at the reminder that his survival was likely a result of nothing more than luck, Simon's jaw clenched. "Perhaps. I tend to get along well with luck." His response had no true meaning; he wasn't very lucky at all, but he had lost himself in thought. The girl was right: on an island filled with superhuman children he should be much more careful. Maybe his survival thus far had all just been thanks to a bunch of coincidences. 

If Simon had felt confused before, things got much, much worse when the girl 'complimented' him. It was very rare for someone to be so blunt. As he was about to open his mouth to speak, a frown covered his features and interrupted him. Instead, he pursed his lips, struggling to calculate the best method to proceed to ensure that neither him nor the other girl became awkward. "Ah, um, thanks," he responded, although his answer was spoken more like a question than an expression of gratitude. Simon could only hope that his words didn't make the girl uncomfortable, even though it made him feel out-of-place. Maybe he should change subjects.

"You're pretty talented with that thing," Simon gestured towards the now-closed butterfly knife, resisting an internal shudder, "where'd you learn?" Probably self-taught, if those scars mean anything. Simon dragged his eyes back up to look at the girl, but he couldn't resist the crawling of his skin when her discoloured eyes met his. "You might not want to throw it around like you had been. I don't want to lose a nose - I'm not ready to become Voldemort yet," Simon gave a polite smile, hoping that his joke would be understood. "Although, I can't say I know much about knives." Apart from how much they could hurt, but that was irrelevant. Simon was testing fate; he was very lucky his mind hadn't drifted again.

[Alexander A Williams]

Addison kept his eyes glued on the larger boy, carefully watching him as if Simon was a new species that Addison was tasked with observing. Expect the Little Devil wasn't doing this for scientific study. Oh no, he was doing this for his own personal pleasure. The Raven-haired teen desired to know what made the boy tick.  From the goosebumps that lined his skin to the way he tried to calm himself with deep breathes - Addison was going to find his way into the Prefect's head, and slowly take him part piece-by-piece until he was exactly what Addison wanted him to be. And the first step was trying to find the right buttons to push. 

Then in a ironic twist of fate, one of Alexander's few buttons were pushed; Ma'am. The teenager's expression turn into a slight frown as his bangs fell to cover the his eyes. "I see." He said in a soft voice, almost a mutter. His fingers gripping tightly around the closed knife to the point that his knuckles turn bone white. A moment passed as Addison remained silent until finally Addison's shoulders started to shake, and a chuckle escaped his glossy lips. One that started off real low, and then became a uproarious, uncontrollable laughter. "Interesting! How very interesting.!!"

 The Puppet Master brought his head back up - his large blood soaked eyes staring at Simmons through his messy bangs. "So you reject fate. Find it ridiculous, and something that only the weak willed cling too." A pause. "Why I like you more, and more." Alexander said, almost purring as a smirk grew on his doll like features. The boy's black and red orbs glowed with a dramatic flare. "But don't worry, I do as well... However, it's incredibly dangerous to reject one's own fate. You'll become swallowed by tragedy, hatred, and fall into Depravity. All of the happiness you once knew will disappear." Addison left off there. Letting the tension build before he started to speak again. 

"You'll be left with nothing, but a black void in your chest and death all around you...." Another pause. "Or so they say. I guess it only matters if you believe in that type of stuff." And with the explanation over with, Alexander nonchalantly waved his hand and shrugged.  Leaving the message ultimately up to Simon's own beliefs, but not before trying to make the boy second guess himself. Then as if to hammer in the nail, he only responded to the comment about luck with a small knowing nod. His eyes staring the platinum haired boy in the eyes, as if Addison could see through him. His smirk broadening. 

"Oh.. Don't thank me. Thank you parents for such amazing genes. Unless they're dead, which means you've missed your chance." He followed with a playful wink and kiss - if a single compliment was enough to make him this tense, Addison could only wait to see how else he would respond to different methods of flirting.  

Then the conversation took a turn that Addison hadn't exactly been expecting; his skills with a knife. Addison blinked a few times before lowering his hands down to the weapon. It was unusual... People never wanted to know about him. Momma, and the customers... They only ever cared about using his body, money, and keeping him a girl forever. "I-i... taught myself..." He said in a small voice as he looked down at the ground between his legs. "Momma tried her very best to make sure Addison was a good bo-girl." As he spoke, Alexander's fingers traced the red fabric that ran through his left arm. 

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WEARING *
TAG * 
WORDS *
LYRICS * Breaking Benjamin
NOTES * 
"Your character speaking."
Your character thinking.
CREDITS * ROZZ @ CAUTION!

[Simon Alexandre]

The girl had seemed to grow uncomfortable after Simon had spoken. Her shoulders hunched over to allow her bangs to fall in front of her discolored eyes, as if she was closing herself off. Simon opened his mouth to apologize, but soon a maniacal attitude replaced her solemn one. Her response went from a calm, relaxed chuckle to an unhinged and unrestrained laughter that made Simon feel as if he were some show animal that had done some trick to please her. He began to struggle to listen to her words from then on out, as the laughter echoed throughout his mind as if trying to taunt him. Simon didn't know why the girl was so unsettling, but he made an effort to put his instincts aside as, after all, they tended to over-exaggerate. However, he couldn't help but keep his eyes away from making direct eye-contact with hers. The bangs drooping in front of both his and her face became walls of protection.

To him, the girl seemed to be speaking nonsense. Just because he rejected fate did not mean he was doomed to tragedy, and he refused to admit even in the slightest that there was any correlation between the two. Not just that, but he also wasn't flat-out rejecting his 'own' fate as the girl suggested, rather, he was rejecting the idea of fate as a whole. A slight smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and he shook his head once the girl had finished speaking. He would humour her. "On the flip-side, one's fate could be filled with tragedy, hatred, and depravity already. Then, what is there to lose by running?" he returned, violet eyes glinting as he grew more confident. "I think I'd hate to find out that my life is controlled by another: I'd prefer to have my life be terrible but know I made it that way. I have no one else to blame but me." His past was uncontrollable, that much was true, and he would admit when asked that he lacked ability to change what happened to him then. But, at his age, he felt that his statement reigned true. He did what he desired, and every one of the decisions he had made in the past few years had led up to this point. He was proud of that. The idea of having a fate chosen for him before he was born was one that both made no sense to him and upset him.

Soon, Simon's parents were mentioned and he grew uncomfortable. As he pondered his own appearance, the image of his father standing above him flashed in front of his eyes. Although his leg muscles tensed in preparation to move, the only other indicator of this inner panic was a slight twitch of the eyebrow. He was used to talking about his parents to people, and he knew he just had to focus on the thought of his mother instead. The flirting attitude radiating off of the girl was setting him on edge, though, and his eyes flickered to his feet as he tried to think. Despite the unsettling feeling it gave him, he decided not to address that behaviour. "Ah, yes, of course, they're both lovely and I do thank them for who I am. Neither of them are dead: I'm more fortunate than some others on the island." He rubbed the fatigue from his eyes once more, trying to pass off what he said as being a casual everyday thing. However, just saying such a lie about his 'lovely' father stirred disgust in the pit of his stomach, but he focused on ignoring that and, more specifically, ignoring the thought of his dad. He'd done it before: he just had to do it again. Although it may seem counterintuitive, each time he did it felt harder than the last, and he shut his eyes for a split second longer than usual as he tried to push the memories away.

"That is very impressive," Simon pointed out, bouncing back as he opened his eyes and pushed the topic back to her. He wasn't quite sure what she meant by 'a good bo-girl', so he decided not to ask about it and instead question about the knife skills further. It did send prickles of discomfort along the boy's skin, but it was something she must be passionate about and he wanted to learn to overcome his emotions. Plus, talking about himself was starting to make him feel uncomfortable, so focusing on her a bit more wasn't a bad idea. "How long have you been doing it for? I'm very envious of your skill with it. Well, unless you were trying to hit me: then you missed, but not by much." He chuckled. Realizing he had yet to introduce himself, he extended a hand out to the girl. "Simon Alexandre. It's nice to meet you." Kinda.

[Alexander A Williams]

Addison's entire body shook as his unhinged laughter escaped his body. Creating an unsteady sound effect that consumed the entirety of the courtyard with it's insanity. Causing the other students to steer away while any critters that might have ventured out to quickly return to the safety of the forest. And birds hushed their beaks - they were now utterly alone. This island had felt this type of instability before, and unlike the Prefect, it knew to be quiet and hid. The blood-coated-skull shaped torch might have been dropped by The Cannibal, but now... it had been picked up by The Little Devil. 

In this moment. The chaotic legacy of the Blood King had found it's successor. All Addison needed to do was accept his inheritance. 

Although, Addison hadn't know this. He just felt incredibly tempted to do something cruel. As if some shadowy figure had his arms draped over his shoulder, and his hands going into his chest. Fingers of darkness slowly closing around his heart while something whispered into his ear. "I never said fate was fair, but you if work it with it, even if it seems the world is against you, you'll find yourself in a happier place." He retorted. His smile never leaving his face, but his eyes seemed to constantly change. Like pools of red and black that slowly moved around in circles.

However, at this point Addison decided keep his mouth shut, and listen to the rest of what Simon had to said. Letting the conversation move on until the Prefect was done. "Thank you. It took a lot of practice." He said with a twisted smile. "And don't worry I wasn't aiming for you~" 

He blinked at the extended hand before looking up at the silver-haired teen. "Oh. That is adorable." He purred before grabbing the back of the bench, and flipping backwards while aiming a kick directly at the boy's chin before flipping into the space a few feet behind the bench. He then held up his hands; revealing that he had six throwing knifes between them while his jacket flew open. Showing that he had dozen more that line the interior. "I do agree with you however. I hate the idea of God, and how that we all have a destiny we must follow." 

"Which is why I cursed my fate. I took my destiny by it's neck and cut open it's throat." As his spoke his mind flashed back the sex house, and his adoptive mother. Memories that the shadow fed off of. Oh god it was so tempting. 
  

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WEARING *
TAG * 
WORDS *
LYRICS * Breaking Benjamin
NOTES * 
"Your character speaking."
Your character thinking.
CREDITS * ROZZ @ CAUTION!

[Simon Alexandre]

Simon had never actually trusted anyone. It was nothing personal: It was just that he didn't want to let anyone to get too close to him. He was scared of what people might do to him if he let them have power over him. He'd felt vulnerable enough times to grow to despise it. Besides, he didn't even know how he would go about trusting someone. It wasn't something that was so easy to change - the fear and paranoia had seeded itself inside of him long ago. But, he had been trying to change. Simon was aware that he had issues trusting people, and so he'd promised himself he'd try to invest more energy into growing more comfortable. After all, the only thing in the world he wanted was to be normal...whatever that was. This meant that meeting this girl had felt like a test to him - a test to see if he could one day trust again. She was a good trial run: Everything about her told Simon not to dare come close to her. From her eyes to her voice to her knives, she was anything but normal. But, he had been trying to push that aside to try and rid himself of the pure fear of everyone around him. He'd almost been successful. However, unfortunately for Simon, he'd picked the wrong person to test.

His first response to the rejection of his extended hand was to wrinkle his nose in disgust. The girl was demeaning to him and he was growing sick of it: Calling him 'adorable' was something one might say to a bunny rabbit. He opened his mouth to respond, when he noticed the sudden movement of her legs. On a normal day, he was always on edge watching for trouble and he likely would've been able to move out of the way. He was very agile, after all. But, today was not quite like that. He was sluggish and tired beyond belief, and all he wanted to do was curl up and have a nap. So, the moment he realized what was going on he leaped backwards, but he didn't completely get out of the way. The girl's foot just reached the tip of his chin, the force sending his neck snapping back. Although Simon expected large amounts of pain, it only felt like a pinch - the worst it did was send a horrendous click through his head and give him a headache. God, he fucking loved his durability sometimes.

In instinct, about thirty coins flung themselves out from his pockets and out of the air to form a hovering grid in front of him. Each piece of metal was about a hands-width away from the next one in the 'grid', which meant that if any knife was flung at him he could shift the coins around that area to deflect it. But, he knew he would be more than a little bit slow. Even just the creation and movement of the coins in front of him sent a pang through his head and he felt a little light-headed, when it would do nothing on the average day. He wasn't even sure if his steel appendages would appear if he asked them to. And, with fatigue, came the appearance of more intrusive memories. He wasn't just tired - he was mentally fucked.

Oh, wow, you must be so proud of yourself. Look at what you got yourself into. You wanted to trust someone like that? Something in his head snarled at him, and he bit his lip. He didn't need this shit right now, but it wouldn't stop. The thoughts never did. People never want to talk to you - they don't want to help you. Why would they? You were a failure then, and you're a failure now. That's why you deserved what you got. You deserved every— "I don't want to fight you," he said to the girl, interrupting his self-destructive thoughts. He knew that he had to watch her hands for any sudden movements: He didn't have time to think. Besides, his defensive grid might fall if his brain shut down, which it was threatening to do with every single thing he thought of. He couldn't break down now.

"If I said anything to offend you, I'm sorry," he continued, but his guard was far from gone. The coins hovering in front of him were prepared to launch into action, whether for offensive or defensive purposes, and his eyes trained themselves on the girl through the grid. His heart seemed to be pounding faster with each second he stared but his muscles prepared to react with any manoeuvre he knew. Giving him the last of his stored energy was his adrenaline, and its job was to help chip away at his stubborn sluggishness. But, the thoughts never left. Of course they didn't: they weren't so easy to be rid of, especially when his mind was as tired as it was. It took everything left in his willpower to prevent the flashbacks from making an appearance.

Every second of it - you deserved it all.

[Alexander A Williams]

Addison, and Simon were standing on opposite ends of the Tension Seesaw atop of Shit's-about-to-go-down Mountain. Creating a delicate sense of balance that the two of them needed to avoid falling off, and would it appeared as if they were managing to support each other's weight. But Addison just couldn't resist the urge to be The Little Devil that he was, and spoke those four magical words. 
 "Oh. That is adorable." And the moment those words were purred, it was as if Addison had jumped as hard as he could down on his end. Trying to send them flying over so that this dull, fake sense of ease would be no more.

The raven haired-teen had even tried to take it a step further - to try, and insure that he would get the entertainment that he so craved. With the back of the bench gripped firmly in his hands, Addison used his small, nimble body to flip backwards, and aimed a kick at the bottom of the boy's jaw. However, it seemed Simon wasn't as zombiefied as Alexander thought he was. Seeing how he managed to move out of the way enough to only get nipped in the chin. However, this didn't discourage the young man. If anything, it only worked to strengthen his resolve to start a fight.

Now a couple of feet back from where he originally was, and with knifes in hand, Addison looked up his soon-to-be puppet. And what he saw was definitely a treat. Simon stood before him with dozens of coins acting like a wall, separating them. "That's interesting." Addison said with a twisted purr as his imagination went to work picturing all the different ways he could use such a puppet.  His body shudder with excitement, his knifes twirling between his fingers, and his eyes stared at other boy with an immeasurable blood lust. He was ready. He wanted this. He craved this!

"I don't want to fight you,"

"W-what?" Addison asked in a stunned tone. His hands falling to his side, and his shoulders slump. "Y-you don't want to fight?" Even when he repeated the words back to Simon, Addison's expression was still in disarray.  He didn't understand... He had done so much to insure that the other boy would be furious, and would retaliate. It didn't make any sense! "Do fuck with me!" He snapped angrily as he swiped his hand through the air.  His eyes becoming mostly red while glowing as energy surged through his body. "I mocked you! I tried to hurt you!" As he screamed, tears started to stream down his face in both frustration and disrepair. 

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WEARING *
TAG * 
WORDS *
LYRICS * Breaking Benjamin
NOTES * 
"Your character speaking."
Your character thinking.
CREDITS * ROZZ @ CAUTION!

[Simon Alexandre]

As a result of his throbbing muscles' whines, Simon's movements were rigid and almost unsteady. Even after voicing his desire to avoid a fight, he was bouncing on his toes in preparation. Though, it was slower than it likely should've been, as each movement ate away at anything that remained of his depleted energy. He didn't know what he was waiting for, nor what he would do if she made a move, but his narrowed eyes did not waver. Every detail of her face was surveyed a million times with scrutiny, from the tip of her delicate chin to the mess of black that threatened to droop in front of her gaze. The constant movements of the knives flipping around her fingers did not go unnoticed, either. Simon fancied that he could hear the light taps as each knife wove around her delicate fingers. But, perhaps it was his imagination, for every sense of his was electrified to the point of malfunction. Even the subtle breeze slipping past him was reminiscent of brushing against people's shoulders in a busy hallway. There was never anyone in his peripheral vision, though, so he already knew his senses weren't accurate. But, how could he blame the nerves? When one is faced with the possibility of death, it's rare for anything to act as it should.

Her thick, mocking words that pertained to her interest in him were not missed, but the boy gave no sign of hearing it. His gaze did not shift, nor did his muscles loosen. Simon's distrusting frown did little to change despite the inner turmoil that was ripping him apart. Each second lasted a lifetime as he fought the everlasting war against himself; against his mind. His hopes of winning were never strong, though, knowing that he lost every other battle. Almost as if on cue, he was back in his old room. Maybe it was only for a split second, but it decimated all hopes for calmness Simon had been striving to gather. He couldn't stop picturing what happened, and he knew that meant he might go back. He could feel it beginning to happen. Although he couldn't see the wooden floorboards of his room anymore, there was a familiar, musty smell. It only grew stronger, flooding through his nose and mouth as if to try to drown him. As it seeped into his mind, his expression of distrust flickered, very briefly, to one of horror. Dread rose up in his stomach and dug into his throat with a violence only Simon knew. The scent was so pungent - it must be clinging to his clothes, to the ground, to everything around him. It didn't make sense, but there was no other explanation.

The girl was forgotten as the coins threatened to drop, growing heavier and heavier as they drooped downwards. They, however, never quite fell which was fortunate for Simon. But, memories flashed around him with a relentless force. He couldn't breath as the taste of iron drenched his tongue, and it felt as if his ribs betrayed him and had shoved inwards to puncture his lungs. All hope was lost for him, although he was only in this flashback state for a few seconds. Then, a voice echoed through his head with an absurd clarity, and he managed to recognize it - it was the girl again. Her volume increased, and Simon clung to each word with utter desperation. Each time she uttered a sound, the pressure on his chest lessened and he could start to see around him. Then, she screamed her last words. Everything clicked in his mind and he jumped, the coins flickering back into position with little to no hesitation. At the same time, he took a sweet gasp for air and, like a computer, his thoughts restarted. His eyes widened and every part of his body trembled, but he was never more thankful for the girl's existence than in that moment. The whole situation was rather odd, though, as yelling tended to shut his mind down. It always reminded him of the verbal abuse that his father used to scream at him. But, that day, the shouting had been the thing to wake him up from his trance. In a way, she saved him from himself. Ironic, because it was likely she would try to kill him soon.

Her screamed words echoed through his muddled mind, and Simon took a moment to register their meaning. He wasn't sure what to say, but his scrutinizing gaze never relaxed. Her eyes had been corrupted with a pure red that resembled blood, and Simon prepared for an attack. But, it didn't come. Instead, Simon found himself watching the girl with narrowed eyes as a stream of tears erupted from her now-red orbs. He felt no sympathy, only a primal instinct that dominated his thoughts: All he wanted was to stay safe. He had beaten his mind, if one didn't count his incurable insecurities, and that left Simon with a dim glow of hope. That small glimmer was what gave him the strength he needed to speak. "Look," he paused, "of course I don't want to fight. I have absolutely nothing against you and, even if I did, I would never want to hurt you," he declared, eyeing her through the grid of his coins. Goosebumps still protruded from his skin, but he paid no attention to them. He couldn't trust the girl enough to even look away for a second. "All I ask is that you relax, and we can have a more civil discussion about this." Simon was walking on thin ice, and he knew it.

[Alexander A Williams]

"Don't fuck with me!" "I mocked you! I tried to hurt you!"

The words left Addison's mouth in a horrified scream that stemmed from both his confusion and frustration. Red hot tears rolled down the frame of his doll-like face, and his fingers clenched tightly around the knives between them. Then a violent shudder begun to cause his body to shake. Addison just didn't understand! How could he remain so calm!? How could he not give into his anger!? He had gone as far to make clear that Simon was only alive by sheer luck, and Alexander's own twisted sense mercy! So why!? Why was he refusing to fight him!? The same questions kept repeating over and over again in Addison's mind. Causing his despair, and frustration to keep growing until Addison couldn't contain it anymore!

He opened his mouth to shout something at the silver-haired bitch when he was cut off by the other boy. 

"Look, of course I don't want to fight. I have absolutely nothing against you and, even if I did, I would never want to hurt you,"

The moment those words reached his ears - Addison let out another blood curdling scream. This time causing all of the crows that rested in the trees to fly away. Their black feathers falling around the two boys as Addison brought his hands to the side of his head. His nails digging into his flesh before he steadily brought them down the side of his face. Cutting open his flesh, and allowing blood to pour down the side of his head. "I said don't fuck with me!!" He screamed again. Memories of his childhood coming back like a vivid nightmare. Images of his adoptive-mother beating him, and selling his body for sex haunting him.

And when that happened - Addison finally just broke down. The knives fell from his fingers, and he fell to his knees. "Addison is a good girl.... I promise mama... Addison is a good girl..." He muttered under his breath as his hair switched from raven-black to snow-white. Along with his complexion becoming slightly more fair and soft. 

Then soon after. The young man started to hit himself on the side of the head with his fist. Hard. As tears streamed down the side of his face. Creating a contrast between the large grin on his face, and the broken look in his eyes. "That's right... Mama has to give Addison good boy points..." A pause. "4.... 5.... 6... 7..." Counting in unison with each blow. "How many points do I get today mama...?" Another pause. "Two hundred? That's alot... thank you mama..."

"13... 14... 15... 16... 17... 18... 19......."

[/blockquote][/font][/quote][/blockquote]

WEARING *
TAG * 
WORDS *
LYRICS * Breaking Benjamin
NOTES * 
"Your character speaking."
Your character thinking.
CREDITS * ROZZ @ CAUTION!

[Simon Alexandre]

Simon prepared to speak again as tears streamed down the girl’s face, ready to beg her to calm down. He opened his mouth, when she screamed again to interrupt him. It worked. His stomach clenched and he shrunk into himself, his violet orbs widening and his knees tensing. The sound of flapping wings registered in his mind, and his eyes flickered towards them in case that was part of the other’s powers. However, the crows didn’t move towards him and they soon flew away. Simon was envious of their ability to escape so easily. The prefect dragged his gaze back to the girl, but he soon regretted it. His heart stopped as thick red liquid ran down the sides of her face, without a doubt from her blood-coated nails. The silver-haired prefect took a step back, and the hair at the back of his neck prickled.

She was on the ground at that point, muttering things under her breath. Knives clanged against the cement, but the silver-haired prefect didn’t move. He was too occupied with the fact that her appearance had changed. Her hair had flickered to a pure white and her skin had grown paler with it. Simon guessed that the lighter skin might be from blood loss, but the sudden shift in hair colour seemed unexplainable. He didn’t spend much time thinking about it, though, dismissing it as just part of the mutations from her powers. Besides, his attention was soon drawn to the wild grin that stretched across her face, and he shrunk back just at the sight of the surfacing insanity. Her salty tears mixed with the blood running down the sides of her face and she started hitting herself again and again, the muttering growing incessant. It was like a scene from some movie, but Simon wasn’t a fan.

Speaking of which, if Simon were a main character in a movie he could guess what a writer would make him do. The silver-haired prefect would have been made to walk over to the girl and comfort her, risking his own safety to help someone in need. Maybe he’d even make her feel better, and then he could leave the scene content with his actions. The whole audience would love him, even if it didn’t work out and she attacked him again. If she did, well, he’d have at least tried. That's how the fantasy hero is portrayed: selfless, courageous, and charismatic. However, Simon was no hero, nor was he in a movie. He wasn’t a white knight and he wasn’t a fearless warrior. He wasn't even at all daring or brave. No, he was a scared shitless kid in the real world, and that meant that his only concern was himself. At this moment, he only needed to ensure his own safety before anything else. So, his eyes held no sympathy as they settled once again on the scratches running down the sides of her face, and he never even thought about shifting towards her.

Simon’s mind was made up: He couldn’t give her the opportunity to stand up and attack him again. The silver-haired prefect had already guessed that she wasn't stable, but he didn't want to continue to test that theory by sticking around. In other words, she wasn’t trying to kill him now and he was getting the hell out of there before she changed her mind. So, with the coin grid still hovering in front of him, Simon began to back away from the bleeding mess towards the dorm buildings. His eyes never left her until he could no longer see the wild grin and he finally felt sure that he was out of range of her knives. When he did, the silver-haired prefect turned his back to the girl without a second glance and trudged back to the dorms. At this point, though, he wasn't sure if he could ever erase the memory of her twisted laugh, let alone get some well-deserved rest.