Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Scout, Jun 25, 2015.

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  1. Thick fingers combed through unkempt hair, slightly greasy from days of being kept unwashed; traveling through the hair to settle on the back of his neck. Yeah, he definitely needed a trim. His hair was too long and his face was too scruffy. At the thought his hand traversed the curve of his jaw, running along the pleasantly rough stubble – a day of grooming would do him good, although some might say they enjoyed the ‘wild man’ look.

    Ronan let out a deep sigh. It was late, or rather it was early. So early the bar he was sat at had only three customers. The atmosphere was lonely; quiet, which was something he liked. It’s been like that the last few hours as all the sensible people with jobs left to catch whatever small of a night’s sleep they could. But even then, Ronan didn’t mind the patrons. They weren’t necessarily old, though it was obvious some were, and they were all seasoned adults with their wits about them – save for that one guy that got a little two rowdy with Jessica, the waitress. Ronan had to take care of him; he couldn’t tolerate such belligerence, and it scored him a few drinks on the house. Like the rest, Jessica left hours ago, leaving the bar in the hands of Michael, an older man in his early fifties who enjoyed his liquor just as much as Ronan. The two got along well in the past five nights Ronan has been going to the bar, but it wouldn’t be long until Ronan left that city.

    Always a traveler. After his many years of life, Ronan had come to discover that it was easier being alone than finding a place with people. Letting them get close and growing attached only ended in pain when he watched them grow old and die. The memories created when they were alive become unbearable when they’re gone. There is no way to erase the image of the face of the woman you loved so much with a noose tied around her broken neck; or the glazed over, dead look in the eyes that once held so much life and light in them.

    Ronan shook his head as if it would shake the images from his brain. Another gruff sigh and the glass of whiskey was brought up to his lips for a long drink, the ember liquid gone when he sat the cup back on the wooden bar. It wasn’t three seconds later that Michael filled it back up from his spot behind the bar.

    “Thanks,” A voice just as worn and tired as he looked called out, earning a nod of acknowledgement from the older man. Aside from their occasional back-and-forth, neither Ronan nor Michael talked. That’s how it was from the first night Ronan sat at the bar. It was in the silence the two communicated. In all actuality, they knew very little about each other, yet managed to understand the other completely. They were kindred spirits; they grasped an understanding of just how cruel life could be and accepted that fact with their whole being. It was a unique bond that would end soon. Ronan was due to leave the city in the next day.​
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  2. Anastasia fell into place, that day...literally.
  3. A
    soft wind blew gently across from the east, blowing strands of long brunette hair. The dark skies had twinkling stars that shined down upon her. The night was over and the early morning rose slowly from its nights sleep. It slowly grew colder as the winds began to become more belligerent. The cold brought her ivory cheeks to color, a bright red prominent; she was always one to get cold easily. Ebony walked down the streets with her hands shoved into her pockets. She found herself looking behind her constantly, there was something about the night that made her anxious. The street lights continued turning colors, red, yellow, green, but there were no cars in sight. People usually slept at this time except for Ebony. She first started wandering around her University, had her ears listen to the frat parties obnoxious music. The library was closed, so escaping into tranquility was not an option. Instead, she walked around town in a simple black trench coat. There was a strange intuition that brought her into town. A compelling force gravitated her to the small empty town.

    A skeptic like herself would deter herself from these anomalies of instincts. Yet, there was something that she couldn't bring herself to ignore. Her feet led her to somewhere she would least expect it. She grew to be vaguely intrigued to where her intuitions may lead her. Throughout her years she had denied all of her primal instincts and stuck to her facts -- this was a rarity. Her gray eyes looked up at the sky, her sight caught the crescent moon, twinkling stars, and city lights that stood tall over her lighting up the sidewalk.

    Her instincts abruptly grew stronger, her feet began to lead her somewhere. She became anxious yet excited to see where her feet would take her. There was a moment when she yearned to run towards the location. At that moment she listened to what she wanted, her speed began to pick up. Her feet ran instead of walking. She would run down the sidewalk, passing by closed shops and cafes she would often visit. Never have she ever ran nor did she pass the places she would often go. This night was special, there was something pulling her closer, grabbing her. Eventually, her feet stopped in front of a run down pub There were stains of the once pristine white walls. Ebony was discouraged and disappointed to where her feet have taken her. However, the strong emotional feeling emitted off strong here. There was something special in the pub. She looked up at the neon sign, "Open..." Her voice was soft and clear. Before entering she rolled her shoulders back inhaled and exhaled the fresh crisp air.

    Without overthinking she pushed the door open. A bell made a sound as the door opened announcing her arrival. She jumped at the sound but didn't make her surprise noticeable to the empty pub. Her eyes scanned the room. It was dirty, the tables were wiped, but there were still evident marks, the chairs stood tall still sturdy from all its past customers, and the behind the bar was an array of lined up alcohol in a variety of different colors. The bar only had two people -- an old man and a strange looking man. Ebony couldn't find her steel grey eyes to stop staring at the man's back. His dirty hair that a thin layer of oil, his clothes was as dark as the night. That strange feeling in her gut grew stronger. She walked towards the bar, finding a seat away from the man, but not too far. She kept close enough distance to where she could catch a glance of the strangers face.

    The old man behind the bar walked towards her, "What can I get you?" His voice was gruff and deep. "Oh..." Her's soft and timid. She looked in the back in search of something weak. "Just a beer." Her voice was clear and loud for the man to hear. He nodded softly and walked away in search of her drink. While waiting for the man, she looked over at the man. Her heartbeat raced faster than anything. Her fingers touched a birthmark that coiled around her neck. Ebony stared at the man, studying is unkept apparel.

    She asked herself more than once, "Why am I staring at him?" She thought to herself. The question continued to repeat, again and again. She made no contact with the man. Ebony decided she felt content to just stare at him. Her mouth opened slightly to catch his attention but instead it closed in fear of vocal communication. Ebony wasn't one to start communication nor speak to strangers but, the night was special.​
  4. The chime of the bell signaled the arrival of another customer; honestly, who would be wandering in this early in the morning? Ronan shook his head at the thought. No, the bell signaled the departure of another customer who gathered their wits enough to realize it was a horrible decision to stay at the bar all night. Maybe they had an epiphany; maybe they finally decided to stop wasting their life away with alcohol and to get a job and make a family. The thought made Ronan smile. Oh, how foolish they were to cherish such idiotic ideals. The truths of life couldn’t be romanticized. People grow old and people die. Everything that happens in between was a waste of time.

    Thick fingers grasped the glass around the rim, gently swirling around the small amount of liquid in the bottom for a lack of better thing to do. Anything was better than getting lost in his thoughts – which he found himself doing more now that the bar lacked patrons that preferred to talk than nurse their drinks silently.

    A stool creaked and Michael left Ronan soon after. It was then that it occurred to him that another person arrived rather than left – another person realized just how shitty life was. Or at least that was what he thought, but his thoughts were soon engulfed with the feeling of being watched. The eyes were burning holes into the side of his face, searing into his strong jawline and stubble-covered face. Ronan found himself growing irritated.

    His fierce eyes snapped up, connecting with the ones watching him, and instantly widened in recognition. A brief moment of weakness that he covered up as quickly as possible, narrowing his eyes once more. The woman, whoever she was, looked familiar. Extremely familiar. And he was staring, albeit with a gaze filled with disinterest, but he was still unable to take his eyes off of her. Once he caught himself he brought his glass up to his lips and downed the whiskey, setting the glass down with a rather loud ‘tink’ on the bar. All the while his eyes were locked with hers, studying the orbs that reminded him so much of her’s. But that couldn’t be. She was dead, and always will be.

    Ronan tilted his head to the side mockingly, raising a thick brow. “What’re you looking at?” He asked calmly in a voice tinged with a slight accent, tone mildly condescending. “Is there something on my face?”​
    #4 Scout, Jun 29, 2015
    Last edited: Jul 1, 2015
  5. Hazel orbs widened to their surprise. The mysterious man's eyes latched onto her's, intense dark eyes that monopolized her. Unable to avoid eye contact her fingernails dug into her thighs. There was an unbreakable inkling about this man, something that kept her eyes glued onto his. She watched as the shot glass rose up, the contents disappeared into his mouth then settling down the glass loud enough to make her jump. The abrupt action gave her chance to look away, but his eyes kept her's stuck onto his. When words were spoken she managed to look away for a brief second then returning her attention back to the man. His tone was curt than she expected.

    Instead of returning the same condescending tone she brushed off the man's remark. "Nothing, you just looked familiar." She said in a monotonous tone. She looked over at the bottles rather than the man. Her eyes would casually catch a glance of the man, unable to keep her eyes off him. He appeared as a man in her past, but, never have she a met a wild looking man like him.

    Shortly, the old bartender returned with a cold glass bottle of beer. She smiled, "Thank you." She opened the beer and took a sip. Before she knew it once the liquid was consumed, it had a terrible taste that made her cough a bit. There was a burning feeling of embarrassment inside her stomach. The unsettling feeling kept her unaware of her surroundings. The beer bottle was settled on the counter, she refused to take another sip. Ebony was reluctant to leave the bar -- the man's presence kept her inside. The strange instinctive feelings fed her strive to find the answers to all the enigma's that are conjured up in her brain.​
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