Chris Lang
Well-Known Member
Gummi Bunnies - Apr 4, 2015 at 8:56 PM
Lola said:"Like everything I say is gospel. #LolaRules. Don't you follow me on Twitter @LolaGurrl? I've got like a million followers." Lola got a cheerful disposition after having said that. She did matter and the people she hanged with was the top of partying and good times. Didn't matter what Melody said. "And like I'm just going to lay down call Marissa, use the tanning booth cause seriously, color is love, and just hang cause I have the place all to myself cause daddy's on a business trip again. It's just like, really awesome."
She'd turn her head towards Melody with a goofy grin on her face. "Like I know you're like a tweener or whatever, but you could like just come over to my place and hang or whatever after your thing. Like it's Christmas and everything so it's kind of a bummer to not spend it with people, you know?" A possible olivebranch? Or just Lola's way to hopefully get someone to her place that wouldn't burn down the house if they used the stove.
A smile curled up on the teen's face, well... it might be a bit better than to distance her crazy-ass family. Sure, they gave her all that she wanted, but maybe that could wait for some time. While her dad was a no-show of an alcoholic, Melody always found her mom to be too much of a deal to handle. To the point where her Mom had branded some roman numeral of "four" on her forehead (forcing her to grow long bangs to cover that embarrassing birthmark) since apparently she was like possibly the fourth child that her mom had, and the only child to not die as a stillborn. But then again, her mom was a practical idiot anyways, so yeah, definitely sounded better to spend Christmas somewhere else for once.Krieg said:
Prologue: He Whom Slumbers
The ghastly white of snow encircled a small, humble wooden cottage settled snugly in the advancing grasps of an extensive yet dormant woodlands. Upon the front porch of the cottage, a middle-aged man sat, dressed in a formal, Cold-War era business suit. Oddly, the capitalist entrepreneur's face was unnaturally cloaked, only the faint silhouette of his scruffy, tanned lower jaw visible. In the aging man's hands, an even older, single-action revolver pistol rested in his hands. The firearm was but a relic of an era long ago, and as the infamous man twirled the cylinder, hearing the metal twist and churn, he could not recall the last time he had actually shot it. Pulling the hammer of the pistol back, the old man pointed the firearm off into the woodlands surrounding his cottage, squinting his eyes underneath his shadowy cloak as a soft sound hit his eardrums...I forever dream within a dream
Click
Empty, just as the entrepreneur recalled. Arising, Mr. Richard, a prominent yet mysterious business leader of the local region began to quietly leave his humble abode. Holstering the ancient pistol into the flaps of his thick overcoat, the businessman tucked his bare hands into the pockets of his ebony overcoat. Walking solemnly down his driveway, Mr. Richard felt the snow crunching against his leather boots as his unknown gaze caught the bright neon lights of fanatical Christmas joy. Pausing, looking at his visible breath as the snow gathered, the aging enigma kept along his afternoon stroll about the streets of this petite town.
Keeping his head low, the elder passed by two young ladies, speaking of "hashtags" and "followers" of a deluded generation blinded by the false hopes of social interaction. Mr. Richard was no such stranger to it, and had even considered getting a Twitter at one point, but preferred personally the company of himself. Ensuring he was not being rude and walked around the two young women, a soft tune emitted from his lips, which oddly sounded alluringly good. Mr. Richard had once pursued a career in singing, and strangely, he didn't sound like an awkward grandfather reliving the nostalgia of old military hymns. Yet, a bit disturbingly, is tone held a more Gothic approach, rather than the joys of the Christmas melodies filling the atmosphere. Heading towards the Town Hall slowly, Mr. Richard's dark tone followed closely behind him, like a shadow following a shadow.
Sitting by the lonesome stream.
A raven cawing, a moon shinin'
Waiting for a ray of benign till
Nevermore.
Though, for a brief moment, she did notice that the usually reclusive man, Mr. Richard, happened to pass by them, making his way to the town hall. Then again, she didn't have much business to do with him and the town hall, so she didn't seem to care about that at all.
"You know, makes me wonder why I haven't gotten your Snapchat yet. Like, we need to get that shit together pronto. Besides, my family is crazy shits when it comes to Christmas or holidays in general, so might as well avoid that shitstorm this time around," Melody agreed to hanging out with Lola for the rest of the day. However, she did catch a glimpse of the whole incident of someone almost being run over by a car. While she didn't get a good look on whoever it was, she just thought of them being bloody idiots to be in that situation in the first place.