just a little walk... *open*

[&&.andrew marshall.]

andrew marshall.

'Cause I don't wanna be like this
I've been runnin' these streets for too long now
I've got nothin' that's true but this song now
But the further I go
I wanna go home...

My hand still hurt slightly.
I'd just gotten my third tattoo, loads of butterflies on my left hand, about an hour ago. I'd grabbed something to eat, and then gone to the park.
I liked it at the park; it was often quiet, and there was lots of trees, practically a little woodland. It was where I headed now, since there would probably be no-one there and I preferred to be under trees.

I was wearing pale denim jeans and my favourite hoodie, a black one with grey patterns all over it. It was a style that was closed up about two thirds of the way, with a black T-shirt underneath, the tattoo on my neck clearly visible. The hood on my hoodie was up, with a hat underneath it. And, of course, my mask.

The only time I took the mask off was during lessons - if I had to - and when I slept. It was special to me, and it pissed me off to no end when people asked me to take it off. Especially teachers. Before they started telling me what to look like, they should look at themselves, really.

Thinking about my mask made me instinctively lift a hand to touch it. I traced the big three on it, thinking about my mother. She was one crazy lady, I knew that, but I'd never get rid of the mask. Maybe it was because she gave it to me, I dunno.

In about the center of the wood, I stopped, and walked to a tree. Sitting down on the ground, I leant against the trunk, just relaxing for a while. I glanced down at my new tattoo, wincing slightly as it throbbed, and hoped that nobody came across this little place. I barely ever wanted to talk to anyone, and today was no different.

WORD COUNT;; { three hundred and eight }
OPEN TO;; { anyone }
MUSE;; { great }
LISTENING TO;; { mister brightside, acoustic version, by the killers }
COMMENTS;; { ... }[/size]

[jullian maxwell crowley]

Click, click, tap, tap. Tap, tap, click, click. Tap, click, tap, click. Tap, click, click, sigh. Jude was so sad, leaving his darling Maria in Itally. His first love, his joy, his happiness. He had started carrying a gun around, actually, incase any time he just wanted to blow himself away. He sighed, tapping his fingers on his jeans. He looked up, finding himself in a forest. He looked down, clicking through the camera. That was the noise he made other than hushed steps. Click, click, tap, tap.

Jude walked through the forest, gazing at his foreign beauty. She was dark-haired, and modelish. On a beach, in Itally. So pretty. A small tear ran down his eye, gazing at a picture that his friends had taken or Jude kissing Maria's cheek. He walked into a clearing, and, startled, he whiped his eyes. "Uhm... Hey." His Detroit accent shown through more than normal.

[&&.andrew marshall.]

andrew MARSHALL.

I sighed inwardly, trying not to make any actual noise, but I heard myself a small huff come from me. I looked up at them, the glare not visible through the mask. I didn't care what they thought of the mask, really.

Not moving from where I was leaning against the trunk, I raised one eyebrow, light brown eyes narrowed slightly. My expression to them, however, would be blank, because of the blue mask. I traced the butterfly tattoo on my hand absentmindedly before answering.

"Hello," I said, voice gruff and unwelcoming. Hopefully, whoever this guy was would sense that I did not want company. Though, that rarely ever happened, unfortunately.
I studied him carefully. He was younger than me by a few years, and - had he been crying as he'd come into view? I couldn't be sure.

Well, no need to be rude, I thought. I asked, "Who are you?" I wasn't really paying attention all that much, eyes on my hands, making sure that the new tattoo didn't rub against anything that would infect it. Then I was scanning the surrounding area, and I half thought that I'd missed his answer. Turning back to the boy, I waited for him to answer, fiddling with the necklace around my neck.

WORD COUNT;; { two hundred and twelve }
MUSE;; { good }
LISTENING TO;; { california, by hollywood undead }
COMMENTS;; { don't actually make him leave xD }[/i]

[jullian maxwell crowley]

Jullian could feel tears building up on his lower eyelids. In a bad attempt to blink them back, they fell down and rolled down his cheeks. He whiped them away, not too fast. "I'm a photographer and a drummer from Detroit." He awnsered, not quite wanting to say his own name. He wondered if this masked boy was an art fan. If he was, he would probably reconize Jullian's name. His photographs were in musems all over the North Border, East Coast, and parts of Canada.

"If you wanted to know my name, it's Jude." He said, gazing down at the boy's tattoo. He looked so out of place, with the blue mask and tattoos. Just like Jullian was out of place in the country, in the wild. Jude felt inside his pocket - house keys, cell phone, other things - until he found his camera. He clicked it on when it was still in his pocket, keeping the flash off, and pulling it out of his pocket, he positioned it quickly - he was getting rather good at it - and snapped a quick picture. He looked down at the camera, seeing the picture come up. Eh, not as good as the one of Keith, from last year. He pushed his thumb onto the camera and put it into the same catigory, though.