S
Sarre
Guest
Original poster
@Yiyel @Salsacookies @Katrina Iceheart @Shade_XY @Penultimate Pi @Cheeki Breeki @AAB @Cambridge Hazard
Here's what we have so far, everyone!
I fixed a few grammar quirks and typoes, and formatted it as best I could, but besides that everything is unchanged and in it's original order.
Definitely helps to look at it in a chunk. Reminds us that we're collaborating, not only rping. ^_^
~~~~
The walls of the coffee shop are filled with prints and plaques and mounted heads, but they don't cover all the old bullet holes. Then again - that's part of the charm, having a restaurant so clinically known for hosting such high-profile guests. Yeah, Scarface, Al Capone... they show that we have a reputation, character, ya know?
In the grey hours of the morning the energy of the place is depleted, save for a dreary leftover nursing a mug of lavender tea and three mealy pancakes. Some days the dreary person just came it and sat with the food, not laying a finger on it, and other times they even left the condiment jars on the table empty. Tips are always welcomed by the waiters and waitresses. But there was always one constant - he HAD to order lavender tea, and it HAD to have a sip of it left when he was done. A strange quirk, some might say; many other folk, who without coincidence drank coffee in the morning, would object to say it was perfectly reasonable, especially considering his supposed status.
They say he was a Deposed prince, or a rich entrepreneur. It was all speculation. Some others though, think him delusional. Lost in his own world. But no one ever wanted to talk to this guy, who they thought was extremely odd, to find out what he actually was. But if they had actually gotten to know him, they might have become great friends. On the other hand, however, is There really enough time to "get to know" someone like him? Doubtful, I think. Sure, he kept coming back to that place - but who knows where he was before that, or goes afterwards. Maybe he was just a fiction of everyone in the bar's imagination.
Maybe, maybe...but hello, who's this? That has just entered the bar.
It was any other day, a modest crowd of people producing a quiet storm of clashing silver- and glass-ware; each person was passive and yet eager, unwilling to break the ice but awaiting the one who would. A teenager with long, blue hair was the first to speak up, in a loud, yet unsure and nervous voice.
"Free drinks for everyone!" he cheered.
From the corner of the room, the regular stood abruptly and strided deliberately for the door, his hands in his pockets and his face pointing downwards. "Idiots, idiots, idiots, all of you idiots," he said softly as he walked.
"Excuse me?" questioned a brown hair man with thick stubble to the man in the corner, clearly offended. "Who are you calling stupid?"
A waitress moving among the tables watched the two carefully, ready to call the manager if something went awry.
A man took hold of his concealed revolver, to take care of any funny stuff if necessary. "I see not idiots, only the merry, and their merry juices."
And to that, a drunkard added: "C'mon, we might be idiots but at least we're living you goddamn mindless tool!"
"Stop that, stop it, stop stop stop put away the gun please stop it stop stop all of you STOP please," the man wailed as he crumpled to the ground, shaking, with his hands clamped onto the sides of his head.
The guy with the blue hair laughed at the guy quaking on the ground, saying to him "hey, dude, calm yourself, it's not like he'd shoot."
Seeing the man in the corner slumped on the floor, the man with the thick stubble did as any normal man would do, that is pretend he didn't see and continued to sip his drink.
Muttering something under her breath, the waitress moved around the counter and stuck her head into a back room. "Pa, he's doing it again," she said in a harsh whisper.
One dark-haired girl put aside her once-precious food and took to kneeling beside the distressed man, voiceless save for a dangerous glare down the barrel of the revealed pistol.
I place my pistol back up. "Silly man, come here and drink with me now!"
With a sweep of his arm, the fallen man flailed at the people hovering around him, then lunged for the door. "Get away from me," he cried, dislodging any followers with frantic arms, "get away and remember Jimmy Garret Flett, the man who warned you!"
The blue haired guy laughed as the man attempted to leave the building and yelled, "Where are you going old man?"
The drunkard laughed manically, mumbling something about wondering what sort of warning that was.
I blocked the scared man's way, and casually punched a stein of ale into his chest. "Calm yourself, madman, be merry!"
With nary a muscle put into her steps, the dark-haired girl already had a hand on the gunman's arm in a matter of seconds. "That's enough. What is wrong with you people?"
I took a look at the small girl, and pushed her out of the door. "Leave here, you are innocent, so don't worry yourself in these matters."
She moved in a flash, his arm barely skimming a shoulder, her hand to catch the man behind the elbow. "In a few seconds, not anymore - that's up to you."
I backed off, ensuring I would not be embarrassed by a little child. I took a few steps away, and gave them a deadly glare, and thinking not to kindly thoughts.
The blue haired man in the back snickered at the thought of a man looking to a tiny girl, and spilt some of his drink on himself.
"Out the back," the wheelchair-bound man said hastily, "watch him as he goes!" She nodded and stepped through, shutting the "employees only" door behind her.
"Bring back some extra ale - rounds' on me today, and double-dose for the morose man in the corner!"
~~~~
@Salsacookies Ah, I hate to be strict on this but could you stop with the first person? Being the only one writing in first person throws things off. >.< It definitely shows here.
For everyone else: It's getting messy. Really messy. Anyone have any suggestions as to how to structure this better? Because I have no idea~ xD
Also, if anyone has suggestions to rules and guidelines that should be implemented, discuss that too! This is only the first trial. ^_^
Here's what we have so far, everyone!
I fixed a few grammar quirks and typoes, and formatted it as best I could, but besides that everything is unchanged and in it's original order.
Definitely helps to look at it in a chunk. Reminds us that we're collaborating, not only rping. ^_^
~~~~
The walls of the coffee shop are filled with prints and plaques and mounted heads, but they don't cover all the old bullet holes. Then again - that's part of the charm, having a restaurant so clinically known for hosting such high-profile guests. Yeah, Scarface, Al Capone... they show that we have a reputation, character, ya know?
In the grey hours of the morning the energy of the place is depleted, save for a dreary leftover nursing a mug of lavender tea and three mealy pancakes. Some days the dreary person just came it and sat with the food, not laying a finger on it, and other times they even left the condiment jars on the table empty. Tips are always welcomed by the waiters and waitresses. But there was always one constant - he HAD to order lavender tea, and it HAD to have a sip of it left when he was done. A strange quirk, some might say; many other folk, who without coincidence drank coffee in the morning, would object to say it was perfectly reasonable, especially considering his supposed status.
They say he was a Deposed prince, or a rich entrepreneur. It was all speculation. Some others though, think him delusional. Lost in his own world. But no one ever wanted to talk to this guy, who they thought was extremely odd, to find out what he actually was. But if they had actually gotten to know him, they might have become great friends. On the other hand, however, is There really enough time to "get to know" someone like him? Doubtful, I think. Sure, he kept coming back to that place - but who knows where he was before that, or goes afterwards. Maybe he was just a fiction of everyone in the bar's imagination.
Maybe, maybe...but hello, who's this? That has just entered the bar.
It was any other day, a modest crowd of people producing a quiet storm of clashing silver- and glass-ware; each person was passive and yet eager, unwilling to break the ice but awaiting the one who would. A teenager with long, blue hair was the first to speak up, in a loud, yet unsure and nervous voice.
"Free drinks for everyone!" he cheered.
From the corner of the room, the regular stood abruptly and strided deliberately for the door, his hands in his pockets and his face pointing downwards. "Idiots, idiots, idiots, all of you idiots," he said softly as he walked.
"Excuse me?" questioned a brown hair man with thick stubble to the man in the corner, clearly offended. "Who are you calling stupid?"
A waitress moving among the tables watched the two carefully, ready to call the manager if something went awry.
A man took hold of his concealed revolver, to take care of any funny stuff if necessary. "I see not idiots, only the merry, and their merry juices."
And to that, a drunkard added: "C'mon, we might be idiots but at least we're living you goddamn mindless tool!"
"Stop that, stop it, stop stop stop put away the gun please stop it stop stop all of you STOP please," the man wailed as he crumpled to the ground, shaking, with his hands clamped onto the sides of his head.
The guy with the blue hair laughed at the guy quaking on the ground, saying to him "hey, dude, calm yourself, it's not like he'd shoot."
Seeing the man in the corner slumped on the floor, the man with the thick stubble did as any normal man would do, that is pretend he didn't see and continued to sip his drink.
Muttering something under her breath, the waitress moved around the counter and stuck her head into a back room. "Pa, he's doing it again," she said in a harsh whisper.
One dark-haired girl put aside her once-precious food and took to kneeling beside the distressed man, voiceless save for a dangerous glare down the barrel of the revealed pistol.
I place my pistol back up. "Silly man, come here and drink with me now!"
With a sweep of his arm, the fallen man flailed at the people hovering around him, then lunged for the door. "Get away from me," he cried, dislodging any followers with frantic arms, "get away and remember Jimmy Garret Flett, the man who warned you!"
The blue haired guy laughed as the man attempted to leave the building and yelled, "Where are you going old man?"
The drunkard laughed manically, mumbling something about wondering what sort of warning that was.
I blocked the scared man's way, and casually punched a stein of ale into his chest. "Calm yourself, madman, be merry!"
With nary a muscle put into her steps, the dark-haired girl already had a hand on the gunman's arm in a matter of seconds. "That's enough. What is wrong with you people?"
I took a look at the small girl, and pushed her out of the door. "Leave here, you are innocent, so don't worry yourself in these matters."
She moved in a flash, his arm barely skimming a shoulder, her hand to catch the man behind the elbow. "In a few seconds, not anymore - that's up to you."
I backed off, ensuring I would not be embarrassed by a little child. I took a few steps away, and gave them a deadly glare, and thinking not to kindly thoughts.
The blue haired man in the back snickered at the thought of a man looking to a tiny girl, and spilt some of his drink on himself.
"Out the back," the wheelchair-bound man said hastily, "watch him as he goes!" She nodded and stepped through, shutting the "employees only" door behind her.
"Bring back some extra ale - rounds' on me today, and double-dose for the morose man in the corner!"
~~~~
@Salsacookies Ah, I hate to be strict on this but could you stop with the first person? Being the only one writing in first person throws things off. >.< It definitely shows here.
For everyone else: It's getting messy. Really messy. Anyone have any suggestions as to how to structure this better? Because I have no idea~ xD
Also, if anyone has suggestions to rules and guidelines that should be implemented, discuss that too! This is only the first trial. ^_^
