catch a star {open}

[Vital Larkane Sage]

september 3rd, 2013 - 03:45pm

i don't need your arms to hold me

Cause misery is waiting on me. I am not alone, Not beaten down just yet. I am not afraid Of the voices in my head. Down the darkest road, Something follows me. I am not alone, Cause misery loves my company. Misery loves my company. Leave me in the cold, You better run away. I'm gonna dig a hole, And bury all the memories we've made. I don't need your condescending Words about me looking lonely.

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[style=width: 300px; font-family: arial narrow; font-size:10px; line-height:91%; text-align:justify; overflow: auto; margin-bottom: 5px; padding-bottom: 5px; height: 320px; padding-top: 5px; margin-right: 5px;margin-top: 10px; color: #ffffff; background-color: #000000;]School had just been let out not that long ago, but Vital had not been in his last class of the day. He had been dragged out for a "therapy" session with his counselor, the idiot. Doctor Salizar Snighrig was one of those people at the school who grated on Vi's last nerve. Then again, there were not many people that the feminine boy did not like. One of the ones high on his list was his roommate, Alexander. The little shit was probably the safest person in the school, however. It would look to suspicious on him if his roommate suddenly showed up injured or dead. Vi was not ready to be found out of his less than savory actions since arriving at the school. In due time, they could know. However, they would not know until Vital was ready. It was as simple as that. He smirked as he spotted little Issac Steel wandering quietly through the hall, gaze to his feet as always. Vital lifted a hand to run through the thin teen's hair as he passed, making Izzy stumble and look at him with widened eyes. Vital simply smiled and continued on his way. "Have a great day, Izzy," he stated in his perfected feminine voice, nearly gritting his teeth in order to get the words out. Vi was not exactly sure it was about his little sunshine that he hated so much. There was just something about Izzy Steel that made him clench his fists, wanting nothing more than to drag the quiet teen somewhere that no one could hear him scream. Oh, Vital bet that Izzy screamed quite prettily. One day, he would get to find out first hand. He promised himself as he made his way out of the school, a smirk twisting up on his features. Until then, Vital needed someone else to play with. He needed someone to twist and mold and be his humble little servant. Like he wanted to have to go out to get his own coffee from Starbucks each morning. That was such a waste of his time and energy.

The blond boy hummed a little to himself as he made his way away from the campus. He was not exactly sure where he was going to go, just that being away from the school was his top priority. He needed to find someone to pull into his games and soon, someone who did not fear him. As fun as it would be to break little Izzy Steel, that little star of his was too meek to turn into someone he could use. Issac was already scared of him, and that just would not do. No, he needed someone who did not fear him at first, someone who simply thought he was this sweet, innocent person that they would enjoy helping. Of course, when they found out the truth, it would be much too late. Flicking his wavy hair out of his eyes, Vital only paid attention to where he was going once he almost ran into a headstone. The cemetery. Vi was not exactly sure how he had gotten there, but he could not complain to much. He sighed and climbed up to sit on the top of a stone tomb, crossing his legs at his ankles as he picked at the leaves of some vine that was growing on the rock. He was so bored but it was something he was rather used to. Downtime between having fun was always so boring. He idly tapped his feet against the stone and sang softly to himself, waiting and hoping that someone else would make their way to the cemetery that evening. "Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, save it for a rainy day...

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tag: open word count: 0633 outfit: link
notes: ohai.

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[style=color:#555; font-size: 8px; font-family: arial; text-align: center; width: 300px; margin-top: 5px; margin-bottom: 10px; line-height: 34%;]TILLIE AT CAUTION <3

MODIFIED BY ALICE FOR PB.

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[Aleksandr Ilyich Morozov]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb= style, background-color: 6B9591; width: 420px; padding: 5 5 5 5px; border: 10px solid #EDE290;] two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl tagged for: Vital - 1391 - outfit - wish you were here by pink floyd The meeting had gone swimmingly: there were only four casualties. Aleksandr liked working with the Russian Mafia. They were always so respectful, and sympathetic to his cause. Beyond that, these were recent inductees, more easily swayed in their allegiance. They could be useful for information. Too bad Vdovushkin couldn't keep his damn mouth shut. Aleksandr had liked Vdovushkin. He seemed like a good kid, with sort of a good head on his shoulders except for the loose lips. The friendlies had not shared his fondness for Vdovushkin, however, and so Aleksandr did not regret his decision to 'let him go'. His hands had stayed clean, in any case. The only ones who had ever needed to so much as touch Vdovushkin had been his own brothers of the great cause. Dasvidaniya, Vdovushkin. And after Vdovushkin there was the matter of Bischof. Bischof was a bitter disappointment. His mistake had not been one of malicious intent, but rather the result of carelessness. Careless mistakes concerned Aleksandr even more than betrayal. Aleksandr was not hoping for company. He expected company, yes, as one in his position must expect the worst case scenario. He'd come armed for just such an occasion. Ever prepared, was the son of Ilya Morozov. Indeed, he had even prepared to bury the result of his afternoon's efforts without the help of his underlings. Three men in a cemetery would have been far too suspicious. One boy alone, and dressed for a funeral to boot, that would turn no heads. And so he moved the cold earth with his own sweat. It was a pity, really. Aleks had always valued the fiery Bischof's contributions to the discussion. But, Bischof had failed him and to fail Aleks was to fail all of his brothers. There was only one penalty for that--- and Bischof had paid it. Paid it begging for mercy on his knees like a coward. Such a disappointment, Aleks thought. Still as the man displeased him with his cowardice, Aleks carried out his sentence with a heavy heart. Bischof had once been a brother. But, it was no matter. Bischof had been a large man and it had been a struggle to carry his body even with the help of a companion. Aleks helped with the digging, but in his suit he was the look out and commander. When the companion, Tretiakov was a burly fellow with a horribly scarred face, a recent immigrant from Czechoslovakia. The quiet giant had not complained when Aleks contributed little to the physical effort and said nothing when Aleks sent him away once the body had been buried under the fresh turned earth on top of a recently interred grandmother. Burying bodies with the freshly buried always gave Aleks an ecological satisfaction. He saw no reason to waste more materials to build another coffin when there were so many just laying around. Alone now, he inspected the work that he and Tretiakov had done together. It was beautiful--- even the bouquet of roses was re-arranged to its previous perfection. Alex inhaled the scent of damp earth from his gloves. All was well. He only regretted not being able to give Vdovushkin a proper send off. Vdovushkin's death was quick and violent, and his interment was of a similarly undignified nature. They'd simply dumped his body into the quarry. If time had not been a concern, Aleksandr would surely have devised a more appropriate end for the boy. Greeting new Anarchist brothers personally was one task that Aleksandr honestly never tired of. He loved to see the new flames in their eyes--- that revolutionary spark that burned so brightly inside of him. "Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, save it for a rainy day..." Aleks stiffened, but did not turn around. He was not alone. It was the voice of a girl or perhaps a young boy. The voice was exceedingly pretty and youthful, but if he had been witnessed it would not matter. It was different from when Aleks was on his own--- then he might have risked discovery rather than harm an innocent, but now the fate of an entire organization, the fate of his brothers rested upon his narrow shoulders. But, the voice was familiar. Vital. His mind supplied. Ah, yes. Sweet Vital, why are you all alone? Don't you know that there are monsters about? There was something about Vital that he'd found himself attracted to in a strange, twisted way since that first day of school, when they'd been partnered up for a project in Creative Writing. Two days had not given him time to get to know Vital. The wraith-like boy seemed different, even among the strange characters that Aleks had observed since coming to St. Helena's. Vital seemed... empty. But, the void was an intelligent one. Aleks saw how the other students feared this feminine wisp of a boy, and this inspired in Aleks a sort of begrudging respect. He did not normally begrudge his fellow man his respect, but Aleks knew that he was among serpents and wolves. Wolves, though dangerous, could be trusted to act in the best interest of the pack. Serpents, however, struck less predictably and without tethering themselves to any cause other than their own well being. Aleks could appreciate the beauty of a serpent from afar. "For love may come and tap you on the shoulder...Some starless night..." Aleks finished the verse for Vital. His voice was rougher than the blonde's own voice, but it was no unpleasant. And then, Aleks graced the other boy with a cultivated smile. It was the smile he reserved for a jury--- the sort that spoke of innocence, frailty, and guilelessness. It was the smile of a child. Not one capable of the barbarous deeds that circumstances had forced Aleks to commit. Circumstances were to blame, when convenient. Aleks had killed men for inconveniencing him less than Vital did now with his mere presence. But, Aleks did not kill them in cold blood. To the contrary, his blood was at its warmest when he was spilling the blood of an enemy. And anyone who was a threat to his cause was by definition an enemy. Bischof had been a brother once, would have given his life for Aleksandr and the cause once. But, he'd failed Aleks. He'd given away vital information, albeit unintentionally. But, such carelessness could cost lives. He had to be made an example of. Bischof had fallen to his knees heavily, his great shoulders heaving with sobs. He'd begged for the sake of his family, the little girl he had waiting back home. "The brotherhood is your family. You have failed your brothers." Aleks was not cruel. He'd strangled the man so that he might make a presentable corpse, and then he'd given him an almost proper burial. If Aleks gained any pleasure from wrapping the silk tie around the bigger man's neck, seeing the desperation and the terror as he struggled, and then finally watching the light go out of his bloodshot eyes--- none of the brothers dared make a mention of it. "What brings you to such a gloomy place, little star?" Aleks said. Pretty little star. It would be a shame to extinguish you. But, he was feeling quite charitable. Had Aleks any reason to believe that Vital had witnessed the burial, he would not have hesitated to dispatch the boy. But, Aleks had been pretending to mourn for over an hour while waiting for the phone call that would for confirmation that Marić and Glazkov had reached their pick up point. After that he hoped to relax, at least as much as one with a war within his heart could relax. Vital did not help to quiet the rumbling of the cannons, of the gunfire. He was a distraction. Aleks could not afford distractions. Unimpeded by base human desires, it was a constructive sort of chaos that raged on inside of Aleksandr. He wanted to watch the world burn, but not for the sake of destruction, as entertaining as that could be. No, he wanted it to burn because only then could human kind, wretched and broken, rise from the ashes like a phoenix. And, if they didn't rise again... that was just as well. Perhaps they didn't deserve to live after all. oh how we found the same old fears TEMPLATE BY BROOKE~

[Vital Larkane Sage]

i don't need your arms to hold me

Cause misery is waiting on me. I am not alone, Not beaten down just yet. I am not afraid Of the voices in my head. Down the darkest road, Something follows me. I am not alone, Cause misery loves my company. Misery loves my company. Leave me in the cold, You better run away. I'm gonna dig a hole, And bury all the memories we've made. I don't need your condescending Words about me looking lonely.

[/style][style= width: 402px; height: 200px; background: url(http://i50.tinypic.com/16gwjtc.jpg);]

[/style][style= width:402px; height: 390px; background-color: #000000;]
[style=width: 300px; font-family: arial narrow; font-size:10px; line-height:91%; text-align:justify; overflow: auto; margin-bottom: 5px; padding-bottom: 5px; height: 320px; padding-top: 5px; margin-right: 5px;margin-top: 10px; color: #ffffff; background-color: #000000;]Vital stiffened visibly at the sound of another voice following his own. His initial instinct was to reach into the top of his left boot and pull Rainbow Brite out from where the leather kept it pinned against his shin. Of course, after a moment, where he looked to the person singing, Vital relaxed a little again. His partner from the Creative Writing class, Aleksandr. He had intrigued Vital in the short time they were required to work together, but not to the point that Vi had sought him out afterward. A small smirk tugged up on the corner of his lips at the fact that the other man was actually aware of the song that he was singing. Not many people really knew it. "What brings you to such a gloomy place, little star?" Vital hummed a little at the question, stilling his legs as he uncrossed them, sitting in a slightly less feminine position. Aleks was one of the people who knew him to be a boy despite others believing otherwise. There was no reason to completely keep up the facade. Though Vi rarely stopped throwing his voice. Even when he was not purposely pitching his voice, his vocal chords had grown so used to that manner of speaking, that when he spoke normally, it was still more feminine than most would anticipate. It was a little more hoarse and less airy, but beyond that, still very similar. It made things easier on days in which Vi did not feel like trying so hard. Flicking his hair out of his eyes, Vital tipped his head slightly to one side, studying the other teen for a moment before speaking. "I am not sure we are in the same place, sir," Vital replied with a slight shake of his head, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair back behind his ear. "There is nothing gloomy about a cemetery." Vital found them to be some of the most relaxing places. "They're beautiful, dancing." Most people, Vital knew, found cemeteries to be sad places, but Vi was not one of them. He still found them to be full of life. You could see where a person was lain to rest, whether or not they were well remembered by tokens left on graves, or whether they were forgotten or the family gone. You could picture a bit of their lives from what was written on the headstones, or what was not. There was an entire lifetime in which you could mold; and, Vital's favorite part was trying to picture which way thy died, whether it was warm and safe in their beds from health issues, or bloody and violent from someone like him. Vital smiled at the thought, letting his eyes lift up to the darkening sky above them for a long few moments. "I wanted to see the stars."

Vital's statement held two sides to it; both the literal and the figurative. He had wanted to see the stars once it got dark enough, but at the same time, Vital tended to call those people he played with his stars. After all, they either faded slowly like one, or went out with a bang. They were either bright, or dim; near, or far. They were pretty to look at, and fun to destroy. "And what about you? Why would someone such as yourself be here and alone?" Vital had been completely unaware that there had been anyone else at the cemetery until Aleks had started to sing as well. It had startled him, but that was in the past. He could think of many a reason that Aleksandr would be out there by himself. Some of the reasons were purely innocent; others, not so much. "Have you ever tried to name the stars?" Vital questioned after a moment, letting his gaze lift to the still-light sky once again. It was way too early in the day to actually see the stars, but nightfall would soon come, and then he could see the stars dance in the trees.

tag: open/aleks word count: 0680 outfit: link
notes: ohai.

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[style=color:#555; font-size: 8px; font-family: arial; text-align: center; width: 300px; margin-top: 5px; margin-bottom: 10px; line-height: 34%;]TILLIE AT CAUTION <3

MODIFIED BY ALICE FOR PB.

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[Aleksandr Ilyich Morozov]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb= style, background-color: 6B9591; width: 420px; padding: 5 5 5 5px; border: 10px solid #EDE290;] two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl tagged for: Vital - 583 - outfit - wish you were here by pink floyd "They're beautiful, dancing." "I did not think anyone else thought so. You are full of surprises." Aleksandr chuckled. It was a compliment, and not one he would usually give. Most people were perfectly dull. Few had the power to surprise him any longer. And when they did surprise him, it was usually because they disappointed him. Human beings had a habit of being terrible disappointments. "Gloomy can be beautiful. There is beauty to be found in many things once you filter all of the... all of the filth that permeates so much of the world. But, death has its own sort of beauty doesn't it? It feels cleaner than living, and certainly cleaner than birth. Death is an equalizer." He very much appreciated Vital's creativity. He could use creative people for the cause. Yes, the cause was the only thing that made him feel a smile twitching at the corners of his lips whenever he saw Vital. He'd taken note of Vital. Perhaps that was a better way to put it. He watched, yes, he kept tabs on the boy but only out of curiosity. He liked to know things about people. And, he knew things. He knew that Vital liked to drink raspberry Smirnoff and always took particular care with his appearance, and that he had a special sort of smile reserved for people he must have hated. It was a sweet smile, almost painfully so. It was a killer's smile. Aleksandr had learnt to recognize such smiles while he was learning not to get killed in prison. There was an elegance to Vital that captivated Aleksandr, and captivated other, less jaded people as well. Aleksandr had watched, in passing, just to keep his mind occupied. He'd watched as girls and boys alike were drawn to pretty Vital like so many mindless moths flying into the violet light of a bug zapper, or the tantalizing flickering of some flame, only to be killed by the brilliance. It was dark out: under this sky it could have been noon or midnight. Aleksandr always felt more comfortable under the cover of night. There were fewer prying eyes. Everything reminded him of poetry. Of the poems his mother had read when he was a child. While Aleksandr was too busy learning to be a young revolutionary, he had missed out on many of the teachings the poor beleaguered woman had to offer him. He regretted that sometimes, when his mind was not otherwise occupied by big plans. Those quiet moments were the ones when the words came back to him. In the dark now, he was reminded of a poem by Fyodor Tyutchev. There is an hour, at night, of cosmic silence. And at that hour of miracles and visions The vital chariot of the universe Flies through the vault of heaven with abandon. Then, like chaos, o'er the waters night doth thicken; Forgetfulness, like Atlas, presses on the land; And naught but god-sent vatic dreams Disturb the muse's virgin soul. "Why would someone such as yourself be here and alone?" "When is someone like myself not alone?" Aleksandr said, though there was no a hint of sadness in his voice--- only something that sounded like simple truth. Loneliness was a fact of life. Even surrounded by his brothers, he was always alone. His mind operated on an entirely different plane than theirs. He did not blame them any more than one could blame a dog for thinking of nothing more than chasing sticks and begging for table scraps. They were simply different species. It could not be helped. oh how we found the same old fears TEMPLATE BY BROOKE~

[Vital Larkane Sage]

i don't need your arms to hold me

Cause misery is waiting on me. I am not alone, Not beaten down just yet. I am not afraid Of the voices in my head. Down the darkest road, Something follows me. I am not alone, Cause misery loves my company. Misery loves my company. Leave me in the cold, You better run away. I'm gonna dig a hole, And bury all the memories we've made. I don't need your condescending Words about me looking lonely.

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[style=width: 300px; font-family: arial narrow; font-size:10px; line-height:91%; text-align:justify; overflow: auto; margin-bottom: 5px; padding-bottom: 5px; height: 320px; padding-top: 5px; margin-right: 5px;margin-top: 10px; color: #ffffff; background-color: #000000;]Vital hummed softly at what he assumed was meant to be a compliment from the other teen. It made no difference to him what Aleks thought about him, however. Aleksandr had not made enough of an impression on Vital yet to have his opinion matter toward anything. No, that would be a sign of respect; and, respect was not something that he handed out freely. Respect had to be earned, and this guy had done nothing to try to earn it. He continued to disagree that the cemetery could be considered gloomy. Yes, gloomy could be beautiful. There were many artworks out there that proved such a point. However, Vi would never believe a cemetery would fall under "gloomy". There was nothing gloomy about death. It was a simple aspect of life. It was hand-in-hand, and in Vital's opinion, so much more beautiful than life. It almost made him restless to be there. That itch he had to take another's life, to see that light leave their eyes, to watch his pretty little star fade to nothing... it all built the longer he stayed in the cemetery. It made him wish a target would present itself. "The only thing beautiful about life is being able to watch death," Vital stated simply, believing each word that he said. He had yet to find anything in life that he found to be beautiful beyond those last moments, that light in their eyes, that fear that all but seeps out of their skin. It nearly made Vi shudder just thinking about it, but instead he simply smirked while watching Aleks. "What would you consider to be beautiful?" Vital was curious, wanting to know more about the way this man's mind worked. What exactly was it that motivated him, that drove him to do whatever it was that caused him to be put into St. Helena's. Vital did not even know what he had done. He never asked. He did not expect an honest answer, even if he did ask. Most people would lie. Vital usually just smiled when he was asked. Unless it was one of those days where the fact that his father was still out there was bugging him. Then he would just leave and find some pretty star to take it out on. If only that idiotic, sad excuse for a man had been able to keep it in his pants for one night, Vital would have been able to frame him effectively. Sadly, that had not been the case.

Vital hummed a little once again at Aleks response to his comment about being there alone, tipping his head just slightly to the side while studying the other male. "Well, you are not alone, now." Something that with someone else, would probably be safe. However, Vital was fairly confident in the knowledge that both of them had reasons to be cautious of the other. Vi might have let his guard down some, enough to drop the charade around the other guy; but, that did not mean he was going to become stupid. Vi reached up, then, to unzip his jacket, taking it off to rest it beside him. "I've counted the stars, and named them," he continued, as if Aleks had not unanswered his previous question about naming the stars. "I gave them all the same name, and they don't seem to like it." Vi was still studying the other teen, tring to piece together a reason that Aleks would be there. He guessed it did not really matter, but Vi was curious and he did not like not knowing things. "My favorite part about the stars... people talk about how beautiful and inspiring they are, constant and true. They speak of them as signs of hope and faith. But when you see them, they're already dead." It was, in fact, the greatest part about the stars, the part that had intrigued Vital the most when he was young and had learned that fact. By the time he could see those dancing stars above them, they were already long since dead. It was one of the most twisted and morbid things the universe could throw at people, and nobody seemed to care. Hope and life signified in something that is dead. It was one of Vital's favorite things.

tag: open/aleks word count: 0728 outfit: link
notes: ohai.

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[style=color:#555; font-size: 8px; font-family: arial; text-align: center; width: 300px; margin-top: 5px; margin-bottom: 10px; line-height: 34%;]TILLIE AT CAUTION <3

MODIFIED BY ALICE FOR PB.

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[Aleksandr Ilyich Morozov]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb= style, background-color: 6B9591; width: 420px; padding: 5 5 5 5px; border: 10px solid #EDE290;] two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl tagged for: Vital - 534 - outfit - wish you were here by pink floyd "What would you consider to be beautiful?" "There are a good many things that I consider to be beautiful."Aleksandr replied mildly, knowing that any other answer would reveal too much. I find freedom beautiful, and the way blood from an arterial wound mimics rain on the ground, the way smeared lipstick looks after a kiss, the glint of a sharpened blade, the smell of leather, and scars that have healed badly. True freedom could only be found through bloody revolution. Blood that was spilled for a cause could purify the earth. You could not have freedom if you didn't have death. And, in many ways death was freeing. He remembered the day when his vocal chords had been severed by another boy in prison. The attack had been unprovoked. Almost a surprise, really. But, it wasn't a complete surprise. You learned never to let anything surprise you in prison, to be ready to fight or flee when the need arose. The attacker was a large boy, muscular, with a swastika tattooed on his left hand. He'd seen the tattoo up close when the concealed shank had flashed before his eyes as the boy slit his throat. Aleksandr had been certain that he was dead then, as he lay there choking on his own blood. There had been a sea of faces around him. He was on the cement floor, gasping painfully for air. Someone had called for help. Some snitch, but a snitch that Aleksandr would always be indebted to from then on. They'd taken him to the infirmary and saved his life. He'd felt everything until he finally lost consciousness from the blood loss. When he awoke he'd been unable to speak. His throat had been on fire, and when he tried to make a sound it hurt so badly that he'd nearly cried. But, time would heal his throat. Time in the hospital was time he had to think without distraction. His thoughts of vengeance were not interrupted by thoughts about survival. The near scrape with death had given Aleksandr a new way of looking at his life. He could die at any time, but he was no longer so afraid because he saw that his death would pave the way for others to follow. He would die a martyr and ten more boys just like him, who shared his vision, would come to take his place. His own blood had been spilled, and it had freed him. "But when you see them, they're already dead." "You asked me what it is I found beautiful... well, there it is: half of the stars in the sky could be dead and we wouldn't know it for years. We look up at night and see so many ghosts of stars that have died. The brightest lights in the sky are mere death rattles. I find that to be beautiful." Aleksandr said. "But, there is nothing more brilliant than a falling star." He was always drawn to destruction. From the un-doing of things he found the sort of delight that most people found in witnessing creation---- the death of an oppressor was like the birth of a baby. Both death and birth involved blood and screaming. He found peace in the violence. oh how we found the same old fears TEMPLATE BY BROOKE~