- - - YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN

[echo]

LET’S GET PHYSICAL, PHYSICAL
i wanna’ get physical, let me hear your body talk

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• • • • • • • • • • • ERROL MURDOCK ![/font][/color][/font][/size][/center]

Echo was, to say the least, dedicated. Every morning before classes he would run a few laps around the school grounds weather permitted, and usually after classes he made his way to the fitness room for a few hours. On top of that he also managed to fit in time to practice his martial arts for a few hours. How he managed to do it was a good as anyone’s guess, but at the end of the day only two people would know how exhausted he made himself. His two room mates could vouch for Echo’s incredible sleeping habits. If he didn’t set his alarm he could sleep until three in the afternoon, though he was perfectly capable running on only a few hours of sleep. When Echo slept he slept. The second his head hit that pillow he was out like a light, usually ending up in a position similar to a starfish. Poor boy was constantly tiring himself out with how much training he did every day, but sacrifices must be made if he wanted to be the best. Today was no different from the rest. He went for a run before class, came back to his dorm and showered. He spent his lunch in the fitness room working out for a bit, going back to class and then going back to his dorm.

It wasn’t that long after classes had ended, maybe an hour or so, and Echo was in the privacy of his dorm. He had on a pair of dark grey hoboken jeans, which were intended for dancers and very flexible so of course Echo loved them, and a green plaid shirt. With a pair of nunchaku in his hand and a few pieces of furniture moved aside just in case, Echo took his stance, raising the nunchaku above his head and holding them for a second before he started to whip them around with extreme precision. Each time they hit his back or shoulder there was a loud slapping noise, his breaths sharp and his movements extremely controlled. This particular kata wasn’t one you would be able to taught, and you definitely wouldn’t find it in an old martial arts film. Bruce Lee trained in nunchaku, yes, but he didn’t have his own nunchaku kata. This was one Echo was developing on his own, something only a master, like Bruce, could do. Technically speaking Echo wasn’t a master, he was only a first degree, but he was going to quickly get there with all of Bruce Lee’s memories fuelling him.

The traditional martial artist mind set in Echo felt bad about how successful he was with martial arts, feeling like he was cheating for using Bruce Lee’s memories to get ahead. It wasn’t like he could really help it though, he couldn’t turn off what he remembered in his past life. Echo just felt like he wasn’t working as hard as everyone to get each belt, which he really wasn’t. Again though, that wasn’t by choice. If he could he would go through all of the training without Bruce Lee’s knowledge to guide him along, but since time travel was impossible as of yet that wasn’t going to happen. As always when he practiced his martial arts, Echo was completely focused on his movements. Each one was precise, his dark eyes narrowed with intensity. He was at the most dangerous time to sneak up on him, but thankfully he was the first thing anyone walking into the dorm would see. Sneaking up on Echo usually got you attacked, which wasn’t something he intended. It just sort of happened, though he was working on his self control.

words: 612
outfit: clicky!
lyrics: olivia newton john, physical
notes: kata

[Errol Thom Murdock]

Errol lived to play music. And up until very recently, dorm life had been great. And then Mr. Action Hero Short Stuff came onto the scene and it bothered him at times. He admired the physical skill required, but he didn’t care much about the kid. He wanted to write symphonies and play his music without the annoying sounds of his motions or the weird shapes that came form his shouting. Sometimes the music was influenced for the better. Something that sounded formerly Italian now had a distinct Asian flavor to it, which was interesting. Which sometimes was very good, nice, and proper, and he liked it, and he'd go on a roll, and spend half the night writing music, curled up in a corner on on his bunk.

And other times, his action-hero roommate pissed him off to high heaven. Like now. He was seated at his keyboard, trying to ignore the input his cross-wired senses gave him. He didn't want to hear those stupid slapping noises, and unless he shot the kid, there was no way he'd win in a fight. Errol was a mission, not some freaky karate kid. He stared down at his keyboard, feeling the insane urge to use it, but with nothing inside. It was like driving a car that, no matter how hard you pushed on the gas, only went to thirty, and you had to go sixty, you had to, you HAD to, or you felt like you were going to die. That was how badly the brown-haired young man wanted to play music. So, he cranked the volume up on full, got ready for the black globular shapes that were going to come form his music to follow, as a bright yellow 'whap' ended up in the corner of his eyes.

DUN DUN DUN DUNDUNDUDNDUNDUDNDUNDUNNNNNN Errol slammed down on the keys with a vengeance, playing out the angriest, bang-on-the-keys-until-they-snapped sort of tune. Sheer anger, and lots of black globs, which were much more fun than the yellow. He hated yellow. And the letter c, while he was on the subject. But he didn't mind the loud and the endless, mindless slamming on the keys, which, with the press of a button on the keyboard, became an organ, then a tuba, and then, to his own amusement, some alien-sounding electronic noise, which made it emerge into just about the most teed off techno you'd ever hear. Errol turned everything out for a good ten minute,s blasting the sound of those thwacks away, but if he didn't want to pull a Beethoven and end up deaf, he'd have to stop that eventually. It turned into some scales on an organ, and then nothing, as Errol looked up from the corner of the dorm the keyboard was set up in.

The musician watched the athlete for a moment, looking between a wet cat and a somewhat amused teen. He'd never been for action movies and martial arts, to be honest. Thrillers were good, comedies were good, this didn't do it for him. But it was fascinating to watch for a minute or two, he'd give it that. And Echo was a nice enough guy, he'd give that over, too. He probably was not tyring to annoy Errol on purpose, but he was so fucking dedicated it annoyed him. Then again, Errol had to muse, maybe his musical dedication made Echo annoyed.

"Dude, you don't think you could cut it out for a bit? Or I'm going to have a crapload of crap and death metal at this rate. And angry techno. And Italian classical riddled with Japanese. And lots of little yellow bits." He stated simply.

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words| 663
tagged| Echo / Dee
notes| The bits where he got mad felt a lot like writing Anne. o.o I think their muses have exchanged pointers, since I had to tone him down some.

[echo]

LET’S GET PHYSICAL, PHYSICAL
i wanna’ get physical, let me hear your body talk

[/font]
• • • • • • • • • • • ERROL MURDOCK ![/font][/color][/font][/size][/center]

Echo honestly didn’t intend to annoy his two room mates, and it seemed no matter how hard he tried to stay in their good books it only irritated them more. Every time he tried to give Carter space he ended up getting itching powder in his boxers. In Echo’s eyes that was dishonourable and cheap, but he wasn’t going to fight him back on that. Not yet at least, because he had learned to check before putting on all of his clothes. It wasn’t like he was constantly in their faces, so why did they have issues with him? It puzzled him almost entirely, but he didn’t really want to cause any drama. If it really started bothering him he could just request a different dorm to stay in. Echo would much prefer it if they told him what was annoying him though, so he could work on being a more tolerable room mate. If something didn’t get resolved soon he was going to end up fighting back, and Echo was notorious for taunting an opponent. Watch and Bruce Lee movie and you will see just how notorious for taunting he was. In all honesty, Echo kind of liked Errol. He respected him at the very least, and especially respected Errol’s need to write music. While he didn’t do it often, Echo liked to be able to sing. He limited himself to the shower when he knew no one was listening in on him. Echo enjoyed the chances he had to listen to Errol make music. It was very impressive and Echo admired his room mate’s talent. Carter, on the other hand, had nothing admirable about him.

Something tugged at the edge of his focus, causing him to loosen himself and pay attention to the world around him. The usual enjoyable music that came from Errol’s keyboard now sounded more like nails on a chalk board. He faltered one of his stances to cringe for a moment, attempting to go back to his focus. Echo when focused was similar to the scene in the Karate Kid when Mr. Miyagi was meditating and ignoring everything Daniel said. He didn’t hear much and was left with just him and his movements. If he had a weapon, like now, it became an extension of his arms. When he had stabbed himself in the back with kamas he hadn’t even noticed until well after he had finished the kata and sat down, his focus was that intense. He tried to go back to that state of mind and block out the angry sound. Truthfully, Echo had assumed he was alone the entire time he had simply been that into the kata. Dedicated didn’t even begin to describe him.

He let out a soft sigh when his focus was broken again, dropping the nunchaku to his side and standing almost at attention. “Yeah, fine,”

[/color] he gave in in an exasperated tone. He walked to his duffel bag and put the nunchaku away before going back into the middle of the room, figuring it would be alright to do one of his more quiet and calm katas. He chose something more basic and meditative. “This alright?”[/color] he asked as he punched invisible opponents, the only noticeable sound coming from his feet shuffling on the floor. “I always thought yellow would be a good thing with your music, it’s a peaceful color,”[/color] he thought out loud, still not intending to be annoying. He was curious as to how Errol saw the world, was all.[/justify] [/blockquote]words: 580
outfit: clicky!
lyrics: olivia newton john, physical
notes: why so short today? wtf[/blockquote]

[Errol Thom Murdock]

If he wanted to be fair, his roommates were okay enough. He and Carter basically got along; they didn't talk a lot, but they did team up to pick on people, mostly unwitting, deserving, freshmen. And by deserving, it here meant that they just looked like cannon fodder, and good targets for the two older boys. It was funny. And oh so satisfying. Why? He didn't know. He didn't care. It just was. So he did it. Same with the music.
And the same, he supposed, went for Echo. But seriously. There was a point where he'd be driven up the wall, and quite obviously, he couldn't fight the little bugger to get him to shut up. Not unless he had a pistol. Or a shotgun. Yeah. A shotgun. That would do. If Errol knew how to fire one, that was. His only weapon was what he longed to do. Music. Noise. Something to get him to cut it out.

But, typically, all his 'angry techno' didn't work. It was like the kid with that whatsit-weapons was tuning it all out. He probably was. At least the black globs looked cool. They ad more dimension to them than a lot of more mundane things. Oiling black globs. Oddly entertaining. If only they could solidify, and he could throw them at people. It'd be funny to watch some girl flip with a black glob in her face. The mental image was priceless, and Errol grinned as he slammed down on the keys, grin twisting into some sort of sadistic annie boy smile as he played. And when he finished, Errol was even able to make some sort of semi-civil comment about his athletic roommates motions, and said roommate conceded to something else. "Thanks dude." He sighed, relief very clear in his voice. He might be able to write something well and proper now.

Echo stowed away his stuff, and returned to punching the air. It gave him some ribbons, but it wasn't anything Errol couldn't tune out. Figuring he'd won his battle for the time being, Errol nodded. "That'll do fine enough." He stated, than snorted when Echo stated yellow was peaceful.

"The hell you smoking, kiddo?" He asked, jaw dropping a little. "Yellow is the most annoying color in this dimension, let alone all things ever to be and ever to have been. Yellow and the letter 'c', man. They suck. It is the most obnoxious color ever, some 99% of the time." Errol's words were vehement. "Allow me to demo." He got up from his seat, and gave Echo a warning look. "I'm not gonna actually hit you so don't do anything Jackie Chan on me." Errol walked over to his roommate, standing out of arms reach of the much, much shorter boy. Not that that would do much, Echo could cover the distance. Errol hating being outmatched. But he wasn't a physical fighter, so he knew to expect it.

He was going to demo yellow. So he stood still, humming a nice, soothing tune. Almost like a lullaby. Then, out to the blue (or should we say 'out of the yellow') he jumped, waving his hands. "YELLOW!" He shouted, knowing how insane this would look to anyone who might walk in. Then he was quiet again. Then...

"YELLOW YELLOW YELLOW YELLOW, HEY LOOK, IT'S YELLOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! PAY ATTENTION, I'M A YELLOW BAND AND I'M LEAPING ABOUT IN YOUR VISION!" He stopped after a moment, then sat back down as though he'd just done no shouting and flailing like a madman.

"That, Echo, is yellow."

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words| 666
tagged| Echo / Dee
notes| OMG YELLOW = 666?

[echo]

LET’S GET PHYSICAL, PHYSICAL
i wanna’ get physical, let me hear your body talk

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• • • • • • • • • • • ERROL MURDOCK ![/font][/color][/font][/size][/center]

There was no denying that Echo was devoted to what he did, and he liked to think that even if he wasn’t a reincarnate he would still be just as devoted. Sure, martial arts would have been a lot harder to endure if he wasn’t a reincarnate, but he liked to believe he would still be interested in it. After all, it had been a love of his father’s family despite not having a dojo of their own. He remembered being a child in his first life, as Bruce Lee, and eating up all of the lessons his sensei’s taught him. He had devoured the lessons on honour and discipline, applying them to his life as often as he could. He tried to be just as honourable in this life as well, which was why he didn’t mind stopping what he was doing for Errol. He really didn’t like how tense the dorm could get at times between Errol and Carter’s tempers, so Echo just tried to keep away as much as possible. If either of them happened to get mad at him he usually tried to be the bigger man and back off, even if it was a stupid reason to get angry. Yes, Echo was a fighter but he wasn’t going to hit his room mates because they yelled at him for making a little noise.

Echo could respect Errol, and he actually didn’t mind him in the long run, but it was Carter than Echo couldn’t stand. There was nothing honourable about itching powder in someone’s underpants. Nothing! Echo could respect Errol for being able to back down at the times that he did. It made him seem more human rather than just an angry monster who only wanted to play music. Echo couldn’t really explain it any more than that he had some sliver of respect for Errol, while absolutely none existed for Carter. Out of both of his seemingly high strung room mates, Carter was the worst. Echo didn’t want to have to beat up any of his room mates, but he was starting to lose his patience with that boy. He wasn’t too happy about having to lock his clothes away somewhere safe from itching powder. “You’re welcome,”

[/color] he returned with a small bow. “All you have to do is ask; I can’t read your mind,”[/color] he shrugged. He really didn’t mind stopping what he was doing if he was asked to politely.

Echo continued to do the quieter kata while Errol started disagreeing with him, his expression one of focus until Errol continued on with the rant of why yellow was a horrible color. He stopped what he was doing and simply stood with his hands at his sides, listening curiously. Errol’s mind really did intrigue Echo. He was always wondering what the crowded school hallways looked to his sound sensitive room mate. “Please,”[/color] he commented with a roll of his eyes at Errol’s warning. “I influenced Jackie Chan,”[/color] he pointed out with a hint of smugness he was obviously trying to cover up. Reminding himself several times that he wasn’t going to be hit, Echo gave another small nod as a way of saying Errol could do what he pleased; not like it would make much of a difference. He couldn’t help but flinch when Errol suddenly jumped, his arms jerking upward to protect himself. He caught himself and lowered his hands again. He tried to keep a straight face, he really did. He was thinking about sad and horrible things to try and make himself not laugh at how insane Errol looked. Small snorts escaped him in his attempts to not laugh, and thankfully before he was about to burst Errol stopped. “You are all sorts of crazy,”[/color] he joked lightly.[/justify] [/blockquote]words: 630
outfit: clicky!
lyrics: olivia newton john, physical
notes: [/blockquote]