- - - OR I'LL BEAT YOU

[leila]

AND I DON'T WANT YOU
and i don't need you, don't bother to resist

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

Leila was greatly considering removing her shoes and walking around the filthy basement in her bear feet, the clicking her heels making proving to be quite the distraction from her plans on trouble making. Her flats were a creamy color with black accents, rather old fashioned but suiting her tastes quite nicely. Unable to bring herself to wearing pants, Leila had on a short bubble dress, white in color with pastel accents to the top. The straps were thin and barely noticeable against her pale skin, the fabric flowing out around her small frame quite nicely. To avoid wardrobe malfunctions she had put on dark brown leggings that went to only her knees; she wouldn’t care if anyone saw anything but the school probably would. A finely decorated necklace rested on her front and her long hair fell in its usual loose curls, a little tangled from having to sneak down to the basement. Leila cared about her appearance, yes, but she wasn’t one of those girls to fret over getting a little dirty or having a few out of place hairs. The girls who made it seem like the end of the world to have one little speck out of place made Leila want to beat their skulls in with a blunt object.

On a happier note, she was actually in a pretty decent mood today. There was no bloodthirsty need for violence and gore, no build up of anger and irritation. She was actually quite content and feeling totally up for some mischief making. Or at least exploring the places of the school students weren’t necessarily allowed to be in. Leila was above most of the rules Riverdale had, or at least that’s how she felt. In her eyes rules were made to be broken, not to be followed like an obedient little sheep. Tossing her hair over her shoulders and onto her back, she continued to creep down the halls of the basement. She didn’t bother turning on any lights, loving the eerie feeling she got from having it so dark and musty. All she could smell was dust, though she wasn’t really paying attention to what the place smelled like. She was too busy squinting in what little light there was down there. With the echo of her shoes filling the hallway she finally decided to take them off, holding them with just two fingers and letting her feet walk on the floor. Lord knew what was on that floor, but it was nothing a shower couldn’t fix. In a past life she had covered her body in worse substances, so she could live with whatever was down here.

While Leila played on being innocent and kind hearted, she was actually very proud of her past self. The only thing she would change is that Elizabeth got caught. If she continued on with her past self’s legend, which she desperately wanted to do, she wasn’t going to make the same mistakes again. She felt that she was reincarnated to prove that she could be a great serial killer, and that was exactly what she wanted to do. After all, she had yet to be caught killing the neighbourhood animals, and she had been doing that for quite some time. If Leila had her way, which she always got as far as she was concerned, no one would suspect her of being anything less than a sweet girl. Though there was a small matter of the other reincarnations knowing who she was, but it wasn’t like they could tell authorities that she was Elizabeth Bathory reincarnate. That would make them seem insane or like they were exaggerating. Not even bothering to be careful, Leila pushed open one of the slightly ajar doors, surprised to see a boy standing inside of the room.

words: 635
outfit: clicky!
lyrics: marilyn manson, the beautiful people
notes: - - -

[Errol Thom Murdock]

Errol wasn't quite sure what he was doing down here. All he knew was that he'd gone on down here on a whim. And to get away from his roommate, who for some reason or another, thought the was some retarded action hero. It had gotten too far onto his nerves today, so he was now in the basement, kicking up dust and examining bottles of industrial cleaners.

The basement was both very good and bad, in the regard that there was very little "extra" stimulus going on. None of the bright colors of sounds or tastes of upstairs in the school. Dark and quiet - a literal black hole. He was left with what people typically had, which made thing a little dull. But it put his brain on cool down, which was nice every now and then. Maybe there was something down here that he could use...like wire. Or a basket, or something that could hold lots of sheet music. Binders could only do so much, and eventually one needed something to hold binders. He wandered the deserted hall, wondering if this place was ever meant to have students in it, if the layout was at all friendly to classrooms. The janitor's stuff was here, but some of the rooms were larger, almost like the basement had once been part of the school. What they keep down here? The special kids? Better than putting them all in the attic. Though, to be fair, some of the special kids were nice enough. Take Chess, for example. Odd, but nice.

Dust piled up on his brown running shoes, but he didn't much care. They were old, anyways. He wandered down the hall, resisting the urge to hum to himself for only a little while. It was just too strong. He pulled a notebook out of his jeans pocket, a pen out of his other one, and began to scribble. He'd have to make do without the actual paper he wrote music on, but whatever. This place inspired him for a spooky piece. Something very slow, and sad. And haunting.

The music was practically playing out in his mind as he sat down in who knew what filth was in, writing in note after note. It was then he saw it. Little blue dots that faded n the ends, and heard it. Click. Click. Click. Shoes? Here? Either that or anything that clicked, but it had been deathly silent until a moment ago. He got back up, dusted himself off and peeked out into the hall. Nothing that he saw. Maybe some other student was down here. He caught sight of a shadow on the wall, and for whatever reason that may have possessed him, darted into another room, the door slightly ajar, and began to write again. Maybe she (it was most probably a she, considering most men's shoes didn't click like that) would peek into the room he'd just left, and he could jump out and scare her. Then again, in may not be wise. The cheery, innocent sort did not randomly go into the basement.

People who might be able to hold an interesting conversation might, though. He wrote again, ignoring the muddy blue dots with the faded edges. He'd gotten used to the more mundane thing about life - like those dots. He heard the door creak open, and looked over, seeing a slightly surprised, small girl peeking in at him. "No flammables or explosives in here, madam." He stated, looking at bare shelves and dust. "I think that," He pointed to a single, decrepit plastic bottle, "Holds some long forgotten cleaning product. Possibly acidic, if that's what you're looking for." The girl in the dark. Hmmm...gave him ideas for a symphony. A girl in a dark maze...only she wasn't lost. She was at home here. It didn't fit with the girl in front of him, but lets be frank. Little innocent kids did not get lost in basements. They went in on dares. They did stupid things. But they always had a reason. He should know, he'd only just grown out of the stupid-kid role.

-------------
words| 724
tagged| Leila / Dee
notes| Nothin'.

[leila]

AND I DON'T WANT YOU
and i don't need you, don't bother to resist

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

The deeper into the basement Leila wandered the more she pictured it being the castle she once lived in. She held cold memories of the ancient building, now in ruins much to her pleasure. The castle she had been imprisoned in in her past life was not a fond place for her to remember. In fact, it still frightened her a bit, as much as she hated having to admit that to herself. Proud of the strong woman she was, she hated that there was something that bothered her. She had to stop walking to shake her head the more she thought about that horrible place, finding herself feeling caged and locked up. That was one of her deepest fears, to be imprisoned once again. It was her main motivation for never ever getting caught doing the horrible things she did. Limited to animals for now, Leila knew she would be doing much worse acts in her future. When she was a bit older she could focus on that, which gave her more than enough time to focus on planning for when she did decide to finish what she had started. This was her second chance at staying young and she wasn’t going to give that up.

Leila couldn’t help but wonder why a school has a basement in the first place. Didn’t they usually just have boiler rooms or something? It looked like a good place to film a horror movie. She couldn’t help but picture a scene from Nightmare on Elm Street, the version with young Johnny Depp’s first acting career. It brought a smile to her face and distracted her from her caged feelings, her need to explore overriding everything else. Who knows, maybe she would find the perfect opportunity to start her future career as a serial killer. What a great dream for a girl to have. “What do you want to be when you grow up?” “I want to be a murderer!” Yeah, that would have gone over well. Thank God she had been smart enough to give another answer, which had usually alternated between something to do with astronomy, biology or chemistry. That was only half right; she wouldn’t mind using one of those as a cover job. For now she would stick to exploring basements, since she had nothing better to do right now.

She was surprised to see someone down here, but then again she was down here too. She let the surprise show on her face, playing along with the sweet and innocent act she had for school. He looked familiar but she knew she had never talked to him before; probably just passed him in the halls a few times. “I’m not looking for explosives,”

[/color] she answered in a rather toneless voice, tucking her hair behind her ears with one hand, and dropping her shoes to the floor with the other. She stepped back into them, figuring that now that someone knew she was down here she didn’t have to sneak. “I was just exploring,”[/color] she explained with a small smile. Though she idea of finding something flammable of explosive was quite tempting, she would have to pass on that for now. “What are you writing?”[/color] she couldn’t help but inquire, walking farther into the room.[/justify][/blockquote]words: 550
outfit: clicky!
lyrics: marilyn manson, the beautiful people
notes: so short D= [/blockquote]

[Errol Thom Murdock]

Darkness sometimes quite attracted Errol. In a thunderstorm, he was seeking out darkness, a space away from all sound, light, devoid or everything. But the basement was different. It was inspiration, with its spooky and dark. So unlike the basement of his home, which was some sort of rec room for his father to hang out with his friends in. Which was really weird and smelled like vinegar from some reason, but really not at all akin to the school basement.

Here was solitude and a good atmosphere to write music, which he could well have gone on doing all night (he'd probably end up locked in the basement until the morning, but he wouldn't have cared) until he had his good music or his pencil snapped and he didn't find anything moderately sharp to make it usable again. That is, he would have. If this tiny, innocent looking girl had not shown up. "Just exploring, huh? No reason?" Errol raised an eyebrow. "Because I think you look like an arsonist or something." There was a tone of joking in his voice. Errol, of course, didn't know that there was some irony to his words. And how could he, after all? She walked further into the room, and he scribbled down a couple more notes. Movies could tell a story, but music could tell the story so much better than any picture ever could.

"Music. Classical, this piece." He told her, showing her the hastily scribbled notes. "This place gives me the idea for a symphony, truth be told. Came down here to get away from the music of up there, got the right tunage down here." Errol explained, looking back up at her again. He'd seen her before, in passing. "Why would you be exploring down here, anyways, kiddie? It's not exactly in the rules." This in itself reinforced Errol's idea that the innocent look was probably just a look. Somewhat, anyhow. He didn't think this girl was anything evil, but she definitely was a girl that probably wasn't afraid to do the every-so-often demonic thing. Ohho...that was gave ideas. he scribbled down more notes, humming a ghostly tune to himself as he did so. Numbered Days. That's what he would call it.

"Numbered days." He told her with a nod. "That's what I'm going to call it. Not that you care." Classical music didn't seem to be popular with most of his peers. "But you gave me the idea for a bit of it. So...what are you really looking for, down here, O explorer girl?" Errol was in a social, even borderline friendly mood today. This place, for all its darkness, seemed to have a positive effect on him. Maybe he'd make a point of going down here more often, if this was the case. It'd stop him being whacked by Chess, at any rate.

---------
words| 543
tagged| Leila / Dee
notes| Our muses will revive. I know they will!

[leila]

AND I DON'T WANT YOU
and i don't need you, don't bother to resist

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

It was weird; Leila both loved and hated dark places like the basement. She hated when they reminded her of the castle she had been imprisoned in, but she loved when they reminded her of the dungeons and torture chambers she had once had. With the basement it really depended on the hallway she was in. Right now she wasn’t particularly reminded of either of them, standing in a room with a strange boy. He looked normal enough. She certainly didn’t recognize him from the meeting she was forced to attend being a reincarnate. She figured she had just passed him in a hall a few times and recognized him that way. Either way she didn’t have a name to put to the face. As she looked him over she didn’t see him as much at all. He wasn’t a threat by any means, so she barely even registered him in her mind. She had to remind herself that she was playing innocent still, which kept a smile on her heart shaped face. Outer Leila needed to make some friends, while inner Leila simply needed allies. Her smile almost turned into a smirk when he stated that she looked like an arsonist “or something”. Oh, if he only knew how right he was. “No arsonist,”

[/color] she reassured him with a gentle shake of her head.

She gave a little nod when he explained why he was down there, understanding the need to be alone. She wasn’t much of a musician but she could respect the work that went into creating it. “Oh, cool,”[/color] she stated honestly, truly taking interest in what he was doing. “It’s going to be quite the symphony,”[/color] she thought out loud, taking a moment to look around the room. “I’m simply curious about what’s down here,”[/color] she repeated, tucking hair behind her ears. “I want to know why we aren’t allowed,”[/color] she shrugged, letting him have a tiny glimpse of her true self. Leila didn’t care much for rules and authority, but she had a role to play. She listened to his ghostly humming and found it oddly soothing, now determined to hear the piece when he was finished. “When you’re done can I hear what you wrote?”[/color] she asked in a gentle tone, still trying to keep up her innocent mask.

She gasped in mock insult. “I do care, thank you very much!”[/color] she informed him. “Otherwise I wouldn’t ask to hear it,”[/color] she pointed out. A tiny bit of her ego inflated when he said she gave him an idea for some of it, always a sucker for flattery. She hadn’t even minded when he called her “kiddie”, since eternal youth was her life goal. “It hurts that you don’t believe me,”[/color] she pouted, though she was obviously making a mockery of the typical girl. “I am exploring. That is it. I was bored and thought I would come see what’s so dangerous about the basement,”[/color] she explained casually. “I don’t see what’s so bad about it, there are no serial killers lurking about,”[/color] she thought out loud, chuckling quietly to herself. No serial killers indeed.[/justify][/blockquote]words: 522
outfit: clicky!
lyrics: marilyn manson, the beautiful people
notes: even short but hey, it's a post! [/blockquote]

[Errol Thom Murdock]

Well, at least it was nice to know this kid wasn't an arsonist. Maybe that was why they weren't allowed down here, come to think on it. It would be oh-so-easy to set a fire, or mess with chemicals, or God knew what if they weren't caught. He came down for peaceful reasons, that wasn't to say everyone had the same intentions. "You sure about that, now?" Errol asked with amusement. If she was an arsonist, she'd deny it anyhow. Lose-lose. And so long as he didn't die, he didn't care that much. Okay. Maybe he did. He'd hate to see his music in his dorm go up in smoke, but as for the rest of the school? He was good with that.

And funnily enough, this girl seemed to be good with classical music. Her response garnered an almost suspicious look from the older boy, solely on the fact that most girls her age were into crap like the Jonas brothers. But he didn't mind, either, and that was evident in a smile. Someone who knew the true music was great. It wasn't to say any other music was crap, it was just to say that classical was a higher form of the stuff. "It will be, with any skill at all." Errol informed the girl. "It's what I do." The tune came without outside stimulus, he was let it flow from his fingers as he wrote notes, even while he spoke. Some people would call it rude. He'd call it seizing the moment. Something born of silence...hm, yes, he could use that in this eerie symphony as well. It wouldn't be the sort that would get your blood going (not nearly the whole time) but it would be something to freeze it. That was harder to do, he had to admit. It was easy to get people's heart racing, but not so easy to scare them though music.

"In addition to the fact all sorts of dangerous crap is probably kept down here?" Errol asked, in response to her saying she just wanted to know why students weren't allowed down. "Probably just 'cause 'they can't supervise us' or whatever stuff they can thing of." Errol told her with a shrug. He knew his parents made up stupid reasons for "don't do this" or "don't do that" when the real reasons was they just didn't want him to. Which wasn't all that valid, at the end of the day. She interrupted his humming, asking to hear it when he was done. Errol shrugged. Really, he was thrilled to have anyone hear what he had to play; it was just better if they were willing. "Yeah, sure no problem. I'd like to have a chance to play it for someone." He didn't exactly have an orchestra on hand, but he did have his violin and keyboard. The violin would probably be better for this one. They keyboard, while he loved the fact he could change it's sound, was just not fitting for this puppy.

Her mock insult amused him, as did her stupid little pout. The fact she was obviously playing on what another kid would do was something worth noting, to him. Meant she had a couple braincells. That was good to know. Liked classical music, had two braincells to rub together, didn't hold full regards to the rules...decent kid to talk to. "Yeah, well, that makes two of us who like classical...I'm so sorry to hurt your fweelings." The last kid was a play on her own mockery, but his next words lost that some of that edge. "Yea, sure, exploring for something, I don't doubt. But I don't really care, either, so whatever. And you never know these things. They might be keeping some lunatic locked up down here, in some old room. " He joked, as he walked to the wall and leant back against it, scribbling some more notes.

"What...I'd - really - like - to -know,"
Errol said, rather methodically and rhythmically as he wrote, "Is why they ever bothered with a basement."

----------
words| 775
tagged| Leila / Dee
notes| Muse ish back. =D

[leila]

AND I DON'T WANT YOU
and i don't need you, don't bother to resist

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

Leila might not be above killing, but she was certainly above arson. It just seemed so petty to her. “Oh look I can light a match” was pretty much how she saw it. It was so trivial to her. It was like being a playground bully; a joke. She was all for a good fire, don’t get her wrong, but there was nothing special about being an arsonist. Murder a few dozen people and then get back to her on being badass. No, she definitely wasn’t an arsonist. She was something much, much worse. “I’m pretty sure,”

[/color] she nodded with an amused smile. “I’m too good to be an arsonist,”[/color] she admitted, laughing silently to herself at the hidden meaning to her remark. She assumed he would simply see it as she was too good of a person, which was her intention, but her superiority complex was hidden in that sentence.

Slowly Leila was inching closer to the boy, taking small steps as they walked. She was curious about him and his music, but didn’t want tin invade. That felt weird for her, for the record. She was actually caring about someone’s personal space. She actually might have some sort of morsel of respect for this guy. Leila, someone who only wanted to kill, was concerned about getting into someone’s personal space. What was wrong with her!? This had to be fixed, but after their conversation. She wasn’t minding the guy, so why not keep it going? She had made her way to only a few feet away from him by now, able to see the paper he was still scribbling on. That didn’t bother her at all, to be honest. Usually the fact that he was writing while talking to her would bother her, because it was rude, but since it was music she didn’t mind. Just because she was a psychopath didn’t mean she didn’t respect a good musician. Her taste in music was considerably different than most girls her age. She would rather see the Jonas Brothers being used as human paint rollers than have to listen to them attempt to sing. From what she gathered this guy wasn’t that bad. He had the confidence and the dedication, that much was obvious.

“If they don’t want us down here then they should do a better job of locking the entrances,”[/color] she stated, a hint of her real self reflected in her words. She didn’t understand why it was such a big deal, especially if there were so many easy ways to come down here. If it was such a bad place there would be a bunch of chains and padlocks on the doors. She understood what he meant though, her parents tried to do that too. They made silly excused about why they didn’t want her doing certain things, but she never ever listened to them. In the long run, her parents didn’t mean anything to her. They merely helped to recreate her, but they were idiots in her eyes. They couldn’t see that their own daughter was a monster, no matter how obvious it was in the privacy of their own home. How many times had she snapped on them for silly little reasons? How possessive was she of her bedroom not being walked into by either of them? Laundry had to be left outside of her door rather than being brought inside and they always had to knock first. She had the only key to the door too. They assumed it was typical teenage girl behaviour. “You’ll have to come find me when you’re finished,”[/color] she nodded, actually kind of looking forward to hearing what he was writing. “Which means you should probably know my name, I’m Leila Washman,”[/color] she introduced, as always having to force herself not to say Elizabeth.

“You should be sorry!”[/color] she accused with mild laughter, finding the mockery to be refreshing. Yes, she definitely liked this guy. “A pet lunatic? That’s different,”[/color] she laughed at his suggestion. It most certainly sounded like something she would do, or be for that matter. The idea of being locked up in a room as a pet lunatic made her shiver in fear, something she couldn’t hide no matter how hard she tried. She stayed where she was as he leaned against a wall, her hands swinging at her sides. “To make you ask questions,”[/color] she replied without skipping a beat. [/justify][/blockquote]words: 740
outfit: clicky!
lyrics: marilyn manson, the beautiful people
notes: - - - [/blockquote]