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Post by Angelo Elden Reese on Jun 1, 2011 19:42:22 GMT -7
i've made choices i don't regret,
i've got problems i don't get... [/b][/color]  ANGELO REESE[/size][/b] ====================================[/center][/color] Angelo’s eyes roamed over the pages of his doodle pad, which was proving to be a little too full. Though he had a stick of charcoal out and ready it appeared he was out of paper. To be honest, Angelo rarely left the school. He hated going out and he hated being forced to go anywhere that a crowd could be found. So having to go shopping for a few new doodle pads (cause more meant less trips to the outside world) was like the end of the world…or at least it was a very big annoyance.
As Angelo wandered out of his dorm, he sighed irritably as he zipped up his jacket. All of his clothes, as per usual, were coated in a thick layer of art supplies from paint to clay, from marker to marble dust, from pastels to pencil smudges. Angelo was an artist first and his clothes displayed as much. It was something to do with his past and the fact that clothes were just material possessions that are not worth crap to him. Even his coat was covered and his hands were permanently stained at this point.
Wandering down the halls and out the door he forced himself to suck up his irritated and upset feelings. It didn’t work too well though as he found himself scowling all the way down the street. He went directly toward the art store with no distraction. Before long he found himself in the art store. Now even with the people who also could be found in the store, Angelo loved the art store. He also knew he had a few things to pick up, so he found himself walking about with a basket.
Placing object after object into the basket he moved through the store with the same scowl on his face. His basket now containing a block of Terra Cotta Clay, Water Colour Paints, Black and Red Acrylics, Canvases of different sizes, three brown paper sketch pads, two sketch pads intended for pencils, a 2b and a 5b pencil, Water Colour Pencils, an inking pen with nibs, and two small containers of red and black ink.
Okay, so he was long overdue for a trip to the art store. But to be honest, he put it off as long as humanly possible. In fact, half the stuff he got his mother to order and send to him. That was how the large blocks of marble turned up in the RSOR room all the time. Of course, not many people have managed to work out just how wealthy Angelo’s family was. In fact, no one had really asked questions as of yet. But when it came down to it, Angelo didn’t spend his parents’ wealth often and it was all spend mostly on art supplies. After all, he couldn’t care less about fancy clothes or shoes. He wore what he had till they were totally shot and then replaced it. And even then, replacing it meant calling his mother.
Angelo made his way over to the sculpting tools, his eyes skimming for the wooden point tools and the wire tools he needed to cut and handle the clay. He also needed a new rolling pin. His current one was cracked and causing a horrible crack to appear when he wheeled out the clay. His eyes skimmed the shelves as he started pulling what he needed and dropping it into the basket.
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•• Words • 573 ••
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•• Lyrics • "Buying Time" by Great Big Sea ••
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Post by Marcus Gabriel Durand on Jul 25, 2011 16:42:05 GMT -7
This was his first time at this particular art store. Call him snobbish, but he preferred to buy his supplies from his home country of France and have it shipped to him. The paints, in his opinion, were finer, more vibrant, smelled better and just were far more superior than this American garbage. Besides...those were the paints his mother used to use. The smell often reminded him of her. Using her preferred brand of paints helped keep her memory alive, in a strange way.
But Marcus was in the middle of creating another masterpiece when he ran out of cream-colored and olive green paint. He searched the house frantically for another tube, but alas! He was completely out of those colors. Now, he could have ordered more paints online and just waited...but he was so close to being finished. All of the creative juices were flowing through him and he couldn't stop now. So, he had to swallow his pride (and there was a lot to swallow...yes, that's also what she said) and head out to the...local store.
He tried to blend in. Honestly. He tried to look like a regular to the store and just get in and get out. But, Marcus stuck out like a sore thumb. Perhaps it was his dressy clothes — though by his standards, this was dressing down. If he was dressed up, he would be in a jacket and his hair would be slicked back rather than tousled as it was now. But then again, compared to the other people in this store in their disgusting jeans and paint-splattered shirts, he supposed he did look very...high class. Yes. High class. That was the word he was looking for. High. Class. Perhaps that was why he stood out.
Or...y'know...it could also be the sneer on his face as he looked at the supplies here in this store. His disapproving look could also be part of the problem. Maybe. Or perhaps it was both. There was a really good chance it was both.
He kept his basket in the crook of his arm and wandered around the store, not really sure where he should look to find these paints he required. And he couldn't just ask. No. He was too proud. He had to look like he knew what he was doing...when he really had no fucking clue. He knew he was in the wrong place when his blue eyes scanned over the sculpting tools. He was a far better painter than he was sculptor but he had rather missed working with clay. He hadn't worked with clay since...well the renaissance. Or, at least...that's what it felt like. He shook his head. Ugh. He was being ridiculous. Since the renaissance. He wasn't even alive then...was he?
He pushed that thought aside. Besides, he could recall a time with play dough when he was six or so. That counts, right? He reached for the tools needed to sculpt and worked his way down the aisle without looking, putting what he needed in his basket.
He should have been more attentive, though. As a result of his inattentiveness, Marcus ran into another boy in the aisle. "Oh!" He said on impact. He looked at the boy he just ran into. Oh great. Just like the other shoppers here. Dirty. You know, being an artist does not mean always being covered in dust or paint or charcoal. That's what SMOCKS were for. Good lord, didn't anyone know anything? Gross, dirty American.
He brushed off his clothes the moment he saw the other boy, automatically trying to get dust and charcoal off his clothes...even know he didn't really get anything on him. "Pardon me," He said, his French accent making him seem more snobbish than he already was.
What a lovely first impression, no?
WORD COUNT: 646
OUTFIT: voila!
LISTENING TO: venice rooftops - jesper kyd
COMMENTS: nah. |
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Post by Angelo Elden Reese on Jul 28, 2011 11:28:15 GMT -7
i've made choices i don't regret,
i've got problems i don't get... [/b][/color] ANGELO REESE[/size][/b] ====================================[/center][/color] Angelo hadn’t even noticed the rich snob who had entered the shop. You would think he would notice but part of it was his disinterest in people and the other part was he was used to seeing rich snobs. It came with coming from a rich family, though most were unaware of Angelo’s family’s wealth. In fact, no one in RSOR had hinted at it or even asked about it, except one Sylent Logan who apparently knew enough to keep his business to herself.
He had been pampered as a child, much to his irritation and as a result he didn’t really find a person in dressy clothes that out of place. No matter where he was at home there was a person in a suit hovering around him, so what was one person overdressed for the art store? Of course, he didn’t care to take notice because of his disdain for the rich snobby types but also that hatred for human contact. No…not hatred.
Angelo was working on his social skills. And it was very slow progress too. Then again, over ninety years of solitary living would do that to a guy. And it was solitary by choice too. He knew that in this world he was more alone than ever because at least previously he could travel about and would still speak to people to get commissions and have apprentices to create works with. Now, no one was really aware he was Michelangelo and that he was from the renaissance. This world was a little alien to him still, but he was getting better and he was doing it by being somewhat social.
But when the rich snob ran into Angelo, he had to notice him. He made a small ”Oof”
[/b] noise when the boy’s body rammed his. Okay, he didn’t ‘ram’ him persay, but Angelo tended to be harder on the rich pompous brats than anyone else. He turned to look at the fancy clothes and the way the kid was pretty much brushing air off his clothes. Most of the dust and crap on Angelo’s clothes was pretty permanent by now, mostly because he didn’t care. Then again, Angelo was the king of not caring. Angelo’s expression remained impassive as he took in the outfit and found he as usual, just didn’t care what the guy was wearing or even about the guy. But he forced himself to say something to the pardon me, seeing as it made him come across as quite the snob…oh and in the name of his trying to be more ‘social’. ”Yes, Pardon you.”[/b] Angelo retorted with a slight hint or irritation and annoyance in his voice. He hadn’t expected himself to be so nasty about it but he just didn’t like this guy. He didn’t know why….he just…didn’t! ”Hope you got all the air off your clothes just fine…”[/b] He added under his breath but loud enough for the stranger to hear him. It wasn’t like he was at all offended by the kid dusting his clothes off. Angelo got that a lot; People dusting their clothes off, or dusting their hands off, or even washing their hands after contact with him. So what if he didn’t care to change every time he stopped working on something. Angelo was always working on something else so it was pointless to change his clothes all the time. Hell, he’d been much worse in the Renaissance. So it turned out, the reason he was antagonizing was simply that he instinctively didn’t like this stranger and more importantly, something was familiar about him. And Angelo was pretty sure it wasn’t the dressy clothes, the stuck up nose of the snobby tone. Nope! He had seen all those before in many people…it was something else. Something he couldn’t pin point. And what better way to try to work it out, than to talk to the person. Talking…not such a great idea when you felt instinctive hatred for someone and lack to social finesse to hide it… First impressions are important…Too bad both had just blown their’s.[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/color] ==================================== [/color] •• Tag • Marcus Durand ••
•• Words • 681 ••
•• Outfit • CLICK ••
•• Lyrics • "Buying Time" by Great Big Sea ••
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Post by Marcus Gabriel Durand on Jul 30, 2011 9:56:43 GMT -7
Was he being snobby, or was there something...unlikeable about this boy? Well, okay, he was ALWAYS kind of uppity, but...that's not the point. Marcus gave the boy another look. There was...something about him that made him go...grr. Not literally of course, but...something about this other boy just...pissed him off. It wasn't the dirty clothes, though that helped. It odd, this instant fire in him, this odd spark of loathing. Marcus wasn't new to hating people, but he was new to hating people he hardly knew. He arched an eyebrow at the other boy's sudden rudeness, ”Yes, Pardon you.”
"Excuse me," Marcus said with a fake polite laugh. Yes, he heard the other boy just fine...but he wanted to double check or see if the boy had the balls to be rude to him twice.
...Or thrice, really as he continued, ”Hope you got all the air off your clothes just fine…”
How dare he!? Marcus frowned at this other boy, furrowing his brow. What the hell was wrong with this guy? Such rudeness and all for what? Because Marcus had bumped into him? He looked the other boy over again. Maybe he had a social disorder that would excuse his behavior and earn Marcus's pity. Or perhaps this other boy saw Marcus's fine clothes and good looks and was jealous. Well, what wasn't there to be jealous of? Marcus could understand, but he preferred that his admirers shower him with compliments and other forms of flattery rather than passive aggressiveness. He turned and faced this boy full on. Two can play at this game of rudeness if that's the way it was going to be. Marcus had already harbored an automatic dislike for this guy...but it was intensifying with every moment he held eye contact with him.
"I certainly hope so, too," He said, his voice smooth and even, "But I'll no doubt need it..." His blue eyes slid up and down his enemy's form. He took in his long disgusting hair and his soiled clothes and the longer he looked, the more his lip pulled back into a cruel sneer, "...disinfected."
He crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows at the other boy, "Though, I must inquire as to why you are acting so barbaric. I did apologize after all. It was a simple mistake, sir."
Honestly. What was wrong with people now a days? They were all so rude and brash. Marcus thanked God everyday that he was far more sophisticated than his peers (whether it was from his upbringing in France or possibly a different life, he didn't know. What was important was that he was better than everyone else. And he was. So, there.). He almost wished he could go back to a time when such rudeness was practically unheard of. Yes, that would be quite nice. Everyone was cordial and civilized. And people kept their clothes nice. How lovely it would be to go back to that time period.
WORD COUNT: five-oh-five .... T__________T
LISTENING TO: flogging molly.
COMMENTS: hear that? that's the sound of this post SUCKING T___T |
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Post by Angelo Elden Reese on Aug 9, 2011 10:59:17 GMT -7
i've made choices i don't regret,
i've got problems i don't get... [/b][/color] ANGELO REESE[/size][/b] ====================================[/center][/color] Angelo didn’t really feel hatful feelings. He was indifferent to almost everyone. He disliked and he liked, or he was indifferent. This boy brought up feelings he hadn’t felt in a long time. Naturally, Angelo tried not to think too hard on it so he could manoeuvre this encounter, but to be honest he wasn’t Oliver or Isa. He knew nothing about controlling his emotions or manipulation in a social situation. Then again, he wasn’t sure if Oliver or Isa knew anything like that, all he did know was that socially they had him beat. And badly. Generally he didn’t care, but it was at this moment he was really hoping he had more social skills.
Angelo tried to keep his smirk impassive but some of his hatred peeked through his eyes. He didn’t respond to the excuse me, as he apparently didn’t need to. The boy had caught the next comment just fine, which was perfect for Angelo. The little laugh the boy had done had grinded on Angelo’s nerves though. And he so badly wanted to say more to offended the other person.
The sad part was, Angelo was sure that this boy was familiar. Perhaps from school? Angelo didn’t pay much mind to people at school but he felt he would have noticed a rich snob before. He might have just passed him on his occasional trips out into the city. Yeah, that must be it. There was no way this kid could be at Riverdale High. Then again, what other high school could the kid go too…?
Seeing the frown Angelo felt a slightly amused smirk creep onto his face. Oh he was into it already, why not keep going. It’s not like Angelo conserved his negative feelings. If he was irritated or wanted you to bug off you knew that much. Even the people Angelo saw as friends had felt that from time to time. He just knew when he wanted his space and some people couldn’t take a hint. This time, he just sort of wanted to tick this guy off. Which in itself was confusing and amusing to Angelo.
Angelo smiled as the boy turned to face him more fully. Angelo didn’t falter at all, and in fact felt no concern or fear for the other kid. The rich snob had nothing on Angelo. Angelo’s apathy actually prevented people from harming him even if they wanted to. He had nothing to destroy, nothing to harm that he couldn’t just replace. Or call his mother and ask her to replace…which was probably the only thing Angelo did that played on his parent’s finances. And yet no one asked where the giant slabs of marble in the RSOR room came from…
Angelo smiled deviously, a new expression for the current high school senior. ”Disinfect away. When you put it back on the filth will return just the same…”
[/b] Angelo retorted, giving a somewhat snooty look over at the other kid. Angelo didn’t have rich kid tendencies but he had been in a respected societal position in his first life, so he was used to dealing with the occasional rotten apprentice or mistake from an apprentice. And Angelo had minimal tolerance for mistakes where his work was concerned. He was treating this kid much like he would a pathetic apprentice. ”You’re mistake was walking in here and thinking yourself superior to anyone else…This was more a waste of my time than a mistake.”[/b] Angelo stated, giving the boy a look of disgust and disappointment. Angelo wasn’t usually arrogant or felt superior feelings but he was having them right now. He really didn’t like this kid. At all! Angelo pondered over the boys use of the term barbaric. ”And I do believe if I was being barbaric I would have hit you by now…so be thankful.”[/b] Angelo added, pulling another tool from the shelf and dropping it into his basket next to the ridiculously large slab of clay. He turned back to see the boy still there, Still here? I was hoping you would just disappear…”[/b] Angelo sneered. Something was really off with Angelo today. He didn’t usually act like this. He was going to be sure to talk to Oliver about it later. Oliver knew more about socializing and hopefully could shed light on the situation. Though he was sure Oliver would say Angelo had handled it poorly. Oh well…he’d still tell Oliver and see what Oliver had to say. At least he respected Oliver’s opinion….god, when had that happened?[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/color] ==================================== [/color] •• Tag • Marcus Durand ••
•• Words • 754 ••
•• Outfit • CLICK ••
•• Lyrics • "Buying Time" by Great Big Sea ••
[/color] ==================================== [/color] |
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Post by Marcus Gabriel Durand on Aug 17, 2011 12:24:11 GMT -7
The nerve of some people! Were all Americans this rude? Was it custom for people to just...be rude to each other without knowing each other? Well, feelings to easily be returned. Marcus loathed the look of this boy. Everything about him was repulsive...his hair, his idiotic smirk, the stupid look in his eyes. Everything was just...UGH! And this hatred Marcus held for this boy...it wasn't just the kind where you look at someone or happen to meet a douche bag and you go "I...do not like you". No, this hate ran much deeper, though he could not explain why. He narrowed his eyes at the dirty boy. It seemed his hate for him spanned over years. But...that was impossible. He'd just met this tool. Yet why was it that he hated everything about this kid from his appearance to the way that he breathed?
Perhaps if love at first sight exists, so does hate at first sight.
”Disinfect away. When you put it back on the filth will return just the same…”
The snooty look over was something Marcus was not used to at all. He'd dished out many of them in his lifetime, but he was never before at the receiving end. After all, he always presented himself very well. He was always very clean and dressed very nicely. He wasn't quite a fan of being at the receiving end. Nope. He did not like it at all. He frowned and arched an eyebrow at his rival. Was he really going to push him. Was this newfound enemy really going to test his patience?
”You’re mistake was walking in here and thinking yourself superior to anyone else…This was more a waste of my time than a mistake.”
Ohhh. He really wasn't liking the looks he was getting from this prick. "I do not think myself superior to anyone else," He said rather defensively, "I only think myself superior to dirty, greasy, arrogant little assholes who treat a minuscule mistake such as bumping into someone and treating it as if I attacked you and took you down."
But...let's be honest. He was and still is better than everyone else.
”And I do believe if I was being barbaric I would have hit you by now…so be thankful.”
"Thankful!?" He exclaimed. Thankful!? Thankful that he didn't get hit!? Is that how people treated each other? They got into brawls and stupid battles over bumping into each other at an art store? He didn't think so. Marcus could not believe the gall of this fellow. Normally, if a situation arose, Marcus would demand an apology. And this time, while he still wanted his owed apology, he also wanted to humiliate this rude hooligan (it went hand in hand with hating his guts, he supposed). Perhaps that would teach him, not only manners, but to never cross Marcus Gabriel Durand again!
"Are you implying that it is normally in your nature to hit someone over an issue so little? And thus I should be thankful you have restrained yourself so far? Well, praise the Lord for an ounce of civilness from you. And here I thought such manners were beyond Americans." Marcus spat, his accent getting thicker with his anger.
And in response, there was a sneer. "Still here? I was hoping you would just disappear…” Said the rude boy as he continued with his shopping.
"What is the matter with you?" Marcus snapped, his eyes flashing as he fought to keep his voice down in a low growl rather than raise all hell and yell. "Have you no social etiquette? Did your brainless, whore of a mother fail to teach you manners? I have apologized for simply bumping into you on complete accident and you have done nothing but insult me in return. Now, I believe you owe me an apology for all that you have so rudely done and I demand to receive it."
He refused to be slighted any longer. This boy's attitude was inexcusable. He really ought to be ashamed of himself and his anti-social behavior. He would never receive friends at this rate. Perhaps this boy just needed to get laid or something...
And, yes, Marcus was completely blind to his own rude behavior and wrong doings. In his mind, he was completely in the right. He had just come to this store to pick up some damn paints and go back home and finish his work. With how things were going, he was beginning to think that simply ordering them online and having them shipped from France was a hell of a lot easier than this. Honestly, he'd rather have his painting wait until he could start again than deal with people such as this unpleasant fellow.
WORD COUNT: 808
LISTENING TO: nothing
COMMENTS: isleepy |
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Post by Angelo Elden Reese on Aug 24, 2011 13:52:08 GMT -7
i've made choices i don't regret,
i've got problems i don't get... [/b][/color] ANGELO REESE[/size][/b] ====================================[/center][/color] It was entertaining in a sense, for Angelo to think this boy was seeing him as a filthy, average, and someone snarky teenager who was not worth his time. Especially considering Angelo came from money in this life and was far from what this boy was seeing him as. Of course to Angelo everyone was the same, money didn’t matter and it was all about the hard work and skill that went into achieving and bringing in your own finances and connections. To him, this kid, though he was clearly well off and arrogant, was far from worthy of feeling that way. Angelo knew what it meant to work for your quarter and he saw this boy as filth as a result…well that and the underlying feeling that he should hate this kid and always had. Angelo was beginning to wonder if maybe the boy was more than just some average rich bitch’s son.
Angelo it turned out was just as capable of coming across as angry, irritated rich boy as this kid was. He was almost ashamed of his behaviour but having the kid in front of him the shame vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. This kid deserved to be treated this way. And it felt right to treat him poorly. He deserved it! And if Angelo felt he deserved it, so be it. Weren’t first impressions a bitch?
Angelo gave him a disbelieving look that said he believed otherwise and that kid was certainly thinking himself superior. ”The words of a rich boy who has the world handed to him on a silver platter. I know what that’s like to sit on that horse and I’ve dealt with your kind before. Everyone is a dirty and greasy asshole to your kind. The only ones worthy of you is your fellow rich bitches.”
[/b] Angelo retorted, saying worthy in a mocking tone. Angelo listened to the boy’s retort on his barbaric comment, and laughed at the response. ”Not at all. You implied it was my nature to be barbaric. But what you perceive as barbaric is merely a rebuke to your rotten personality. In this situation usually I walk away, but your arrogance leaks from you…it’s disgusting!”[/b] Angelo said, his nose wrinkling in disgust. ”Get off the high horse your parents purchased for you...”[/b] Angleo added. The real irony was that Angelo often had his mother send him art supplies. But he didn’t care for any of the other materials she tried to lather on him. He didn’t care for the nice clothes, the fancy gadgets or the rich tastes he was forced to suffer when he was at his mother’s home. Hell, she was hardly his mother when it was considered that he was Michelangelo and now Angelo Reese. Angelo caught himself as he was about to insist that he wasn’t an American. In this life he was, and he had to remind himself of that. He still saw himself as an Italian, as he was in his first life. It was hard for him to keep his mouth shut when he had a chance to spit more spite back at this rich snob. ”Social Etiquette? Can’t say I care for any form of Etiquette…And my supposed brainless, whore of a mother did all in her power to instil upon me the rich etiquettes of someone in my financial bracket, I just couldn’t care less for the social politics of the wealthy community,”[/b] He spat at the other. ”Can’t say the same for you…”[/b] He added with open disapproval. He hadn’t really thought much about the comment of his parent’s wealth, seeing as he hadn’t been really hiding it so much as no one at Riverdale had realized it. Angelo met the boys eyes directly, a grin of pure amusement on his face. ”An Apology? As if I’d apologize to high class trash like you...If you insist on waiting for an apology you will find yourself sorely disappointed.”[/b] Angelo added, his grin remaining firmly on his face. The idea of an apology was almost laughable to Angelo.[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/color] ==================================== [/color] •• Tag • Marcus Durand ••
•• Words • 680 ••
•• Outfit • CLICK ••
•• Lyrics • "Buying Time" by Great Big Sea ••
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Post by Marcus Gabriel Durand on Sept 17, 2011 13:42:48 GMT -7
”The words of a rich boy who has the world handed to him on a silver platter. I know what that’s like to sit on that horse and I’ve dealt with your kind before. Everyone is a dirty and greasy asshole to your kind. The only ones worthy of you is your fellow rich bitches.”
Sigh. Why did people hate Marcus? Why? Was it because he was better than everyone else? He was truly beginning to believe that was so. Other people were just jealous of him and his looks and talent. And his tight ass. He had a really tight ass.
And if that insult wasn't enough, the boy was not done. Marcus was beginning to sense some hypocrisy from the person he had bumped. This was getting ridiculous. Such hate simply from BUMPING each other!?
”Not at all. You implied it was my nature to be barbaric. But what you perceive as barbaric is merely a rebuke to your rotten personality. In this situation usually I walk away, but your arrogance leaks from you…it’s disgusting!” Angelo said, his nose wrinkling in disgust. ”Get off the high horse your parents purchased for you...”
Marcus arched his eyebrow and puffed out his chest a bit; it was simply a reflex to make himself look taller (not that he wasn't tall enough) and perhaps a bit more intimidating, not unlike a cat arching it's back and standing it's fur on end to make him appear bigger. "It's funny," He said bitterly, "How you claim arrogance leaks from me when you don't even know me. Such an accusation might even be considered, not to sound redundant or anything but,arrogant." He looked at the other boy with distain, "Here you are, making accusations about my personality, behaviors and the company I keep when all I have done is bumped you, which I apologized for. Who do you think you are to speak to me in this rude manner? What qualifies you to sit here and judge me when you do not even know me past 'that-guy-who-bumped-me-at-the-art-store'?"
And, please. Marcus was not on a high horse that his parents bought for him. He didn't even have a horse, not have any interest in horses. Why would his father buy him a horse if Marcus would care very little for it. Sigh. Such wordplay was stupid.
”Social Etiquette? Can’t say I care for any form of Etiquette"
"Clearly," Marcus spat.
"…And my supposed brainless, whore of a mother did all in her power to instil upon me the rich etiquettes of someone in my financial bracket"
Marcus raised his eyebrows and looked the boy over. He came from a rich background? He came from a rich background? Well...his mother must be thoroughly disappointed with the slob of a son she had produced. He truly was a disgrace if he came from first class background.
"I just couldn’t care less for the social politics of the wealthy community,” He spat at the other. ”Can’t say the same for you…”
"Is that supposed to be an insult?" Marcus asked with a slight chuckle, "Am I supposed to be offended that I care about how I look or how to interact with other people?" Maybe this guy was nasty and antisocial, but Marcus, on the other hand, loved people. He loved getting to know them and what made them tick and then manipulating them.
But really, this was getting old and Marcus was getting more angry with this boy by the second. That stupid grin on the other boy's face and what he said finally did it, though. ”An Apology? As if I’d apologize to high class trash like you...If you insist on waiting for an apology you will find yourself sorely disappointed.”
Trash!? Marcus Gabriel Durand was anything BUT trash! That did it. That was the final straw. That was it. Marcus, who was not quick to violence lest he get blood on his shirt, didn't know what came over him, but the next thing he knew, his fist flew into the other boys nose. Perhaps the boys mother had failed to teach him manners, but Marcus would not.
You don't fuck with Leonardo Da Vinci.
...Bitch.
WORD COUNT: 715
LISTENING TO: let's kill tonight and hurricane by panic! at the disco.
COMMENTS: NOW...OVER A MONTH LATER, I'M DONE. I WOULD LIKE TO APOLOGIZE FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK. THAT WAS RIDICULOUS OF ME |
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Post by Angelo Elden Reese on Oct 4, 2011 7:54:05 GMT -7
i've made choices i don't regret,
i've got problems i don't get... [/b][/color] ANGELO REESE[/size][/b] ====================================[/center][/color] Angelo couldn’t deny that despite the boy’s rotten attitude, physically he was quite attractive. Angelo was mostly trying to ignore that fact for the time being. It was distracting to think about considering he was currently having a bit of an out of character moment, even for him. He was ticked at some kid he didn’t know. Angelo generally kept to himself and didn’t care enough to voice an opinion but something about this kid riled him up. It was confusing and infuriating in its own right to feel something so thoroughly enough to express it, and to a stranger. Angelo had a hard time with social interactions and here he felt so compelled to speak up and say something that it felt unnatural to him to do so.
Angelo pulled his mind away from the boy’s physical appearance and tried to remind himself that to this other boy he was just someone around the same age. Yet Angelo had the mind of an older man, seeing as he had lived to 89 years the first time around. He had to remind himself that this kid didn’t realize who he was speaking to and tried to keep that fact in the forefront of his mind for now.
It was a bit hard, and Angelo almost wanted to laugh at the boy’s postured response to Angelo’s words. It probably didn’t help that Angelo was 6 feet himself so the other boy didn’t look that large or intimidating to him. Reactions from some people were easy, and getting rise from anyone in this world wasn’t hard. It was so much more of a social game when Angelo lived the first time around. Treating someone badly could get you killed or imprisoned for no apparent reason other than a powerful person disliking you. Angelo had live cautiously the first time and he was struggling to shift back to that now, so that he didn’t shove this too far. Though, the damage might already be done, and his furious feelings were not helping.
Angelo smirked, ”Arrogance is evident without knowing you. Some traits can be seen in posture and facial reactions…It’s the same reason a skilled painter or sculptor can give a personality to their subject while not requiring verbal cues or previous knowledge of the subject.”
[/b] Angelo retorted. ”I never denied that I think highly of myself, so if that was intended as an insult, it is a failed one. There is a difference between thinking highly of yourself and shoving it in everyone’s face.”[/b] Angelo added, the smirk appearing more amused now. As the boy spat out the words clearly about Angelo’s views on etiquette, Angelo gave a ‘what-can-you-do’ shrug. He didn’t care about this boy’s opinion of him. Hell, he didn’t care about anyone’s opinion of him. And that was why no matter where this spat went, Angelo would come out the winner. This boy cared what a stranger thought of him and that was enough to get a rise from him. Apathy really was the best answer sometimes. Angelo’s smile was a dark one and definitely not meant to be pleasant. ”I guess if you enjoy snobs, manipulation, social boredom, fake positive feelings and social detachment in social situations then upper class appearances are a great place to spend your time. I’d much rather stick with brutal honesty, personal space and a different, more secluded form of social detachment,”[/b] Angelo responded, his opinion of rich social events not likely to change in the future. He had enough of social politics the first time. He was definitely going to avoid them as much as possible this time around. The next thing Angelo knew, his face forced his head backward with the fist that hit it. It hurt like a bitch, but Angelo schooled his expression and touched a few charcoal stained fingers to his nose and pulled them away with a small dab of blood, which caused him to raise an eyebrow irritably. He felt his anger raise up in him and only over a life time of emotional control forced down. Considering he had let the anger run his reactions till now made that all the more difficult. ”Whose barbaric now?”[/b] Angelo sneered, his expression one of utmost disgust, knowing that would boil the other boy’s blood more than hitting him back, even if Angelo wanted to hit him. If the boy struck again, then it would definitely become a brawl, seeing as Angelo was certain that he wouldn’t keep himself in check long enough for that surge of anger to pass. ”If we really must go this path, then let’s deal with this outside of the store. I’d hate for the supplies to be damage by something so juvenile.”[/b] Angelo added. Michelangelo was more than willing to fuck with Da Vinci! Bitch![/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/color] ==================================== [/color] •• Tag • Marcus Durand ••
•• Words • 803 ••
•• Outfit • CLICK ••
•• Lyrics • "Buying Time" by Great Big Sea ••
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