Post by Devilkiller on May 10, 2014 23:27:20 GMT -5
Devilkiller is in a dark lit room, the red sucked from it, more dark, more sinister now. He stares down with his hood up, his red gloved hands hitched together in front of him.
Devilkiller: So, it comes to this, eh?
He leans back now, staring straight ahead, his red face paint reflecting a soft light.
Devilkiller: I gotta face a writer? Really?
Devilkiller pulls out a cigarette from his pocket and lights it up, the orange tip illuminating his face.
Devilkiller: It couldn't be someone like, a bar tender, a bouncer, someone with more muscle? I mean for Christ sake I read a lot of books and I have never heard of this quack.
Devilkiller takes another long drag, letting the smoke linger, before blowing it out through his nose.
Devilkiller: Listen, Brazil right? Close enough. Brazil, you're good at writing, atleast that's what you claim, so please tell me, can this get accepted?
Devilkiller opens up a journal, with the words "Mental Health" scribbled in black sharpie on the front. Devilkiller flips the cover back and shows the camera the first page, covered in black ink. He flips the next page to show both pages covered as well, and he keeps flipping, showing more and more filled to the brim pages.
Devilkiller: Will that get accepted? Because by god that is one hell of a roller coaster story. I even paced it right.
Devilkiller puffs away at the cigarette, wasting time really.
Devilkiller: Brazil, you seem promising in this life, you seem like you have some kind of person. I see the fire, the determination, the vigor, it's in your eyes and I can see it in bloom. Don't lose that, because when you lose that you've already lost the battle, and for you that's all you have left. In this lifetime, you won't be on the winning end. In this lifetime you won't be able to be on the winning end because no one will be. Life doesn't give a damn about us.
With that being said Devilkiller slowly inhales on his cigarette, making it bright orange again, before putting the tip to the corner of his journal and igniting it, holding the opposite corner.
Devilkiller: Ever heard of snipe hunting?
Devilkiller laughs a sick laugh, trying to control himself. He takes a deep breath, the flame now showing his whole face. He looks troubled, he looks like he's 20 years older then he really is. He takes yet another hit of the cigarette before throwing it in the sink.
Devilkiller: Brazil, you are no match for me. I have nothing left to lose, absolutely nothing.
Devilkiller contorts his face in a weird smile, before putting the burning journal to his face, not taking all of it out but most, before peeling it away and tossing it into the sink, breathing heavily. His face is now a bright pink, there are some white flakes where some of the skin burned, and it looks as if he is literally smoking. Through this whole process he never lost the smile. He props his leg up before taking a deep breath.
Devilkiller: Tonight, "Basil", I won't play games or jokes like I did earlier. I'll be as serious as I just was, as sick, as demented, as twisted. I'll make sure you don't walk away tonight because I don't want to win, no, that's mainstream mate. I want to make you hurt. I want to be the one that breaks your leg right in f*cking half!
And with that Devilkiller stands up and walks sternly out of the tiny room.
-----
OOC: I didn't get inspiration until 11:00, and I had no time to make a full RP, so here's this. Next will be beautiful I promise.
Devilkiller: So, it comes to this, eh?
He leans back now, staring straight ahead, his red face paint reflecting a soft light.
Devilkiller: I gotta face a writer? Really?
Devilkiller pulls out a cigarette from his pocket and lights it up, the orange tip illuminating his face.
Devilkiller: It couldn't be someone like, a bar tender, a bouncer, someone with more muscle? I mean for Christ sake I read a lot of books and I have never heard of this quack.
Devilkiller takes another long drag, letting the smoke linger, before blowing it out through his nose.
Devilkiller: Listen, Brazil right? Close enough. Brazil, you're good at writing, atleast that's what you claim, so please tell me, can this get accepted?
Devilkiller opens up a journal, with the words "Mental Health" scribbled in black sharpie on the front. Devilkiller flips the cover back and shows the camera the first page, covered in black ink. He flips the next page to show both pages covered as well, and he keeps flipping, showing more and more filled to the brim pages.
Devilkiller: Will that get accepted? Because by god that is one hell of a roller coaster story. I even paced it right.
Devilkiller puffs away at the cigarette, wasting time really.
Devilkiller: Brazil, you seem promising in this life, you seem like you have some kind of person. I see the fire, the determination, the vigor, it's in your eyes and I can see it in bloom. Don't lose that, because when you lose that you've already lost the battle, and for you that's all you have left. In this lifetime, you won't be on the winning end. In this lifetime you won't be able to be on the winning end because no one will be. Life doesn't give a damn about us.
With that being said Devilkiller slowly inhales on his cigarette, making it bright orange again, before putting the tip to the corner of his journal and igniting it, holding the opposite corner.
Devilkiller: Ever heard of snipe hunting?
Devilkiller laughs a sick laugh, trying to control himself. He takes a deep breath, the flame now showing his whole face. He looks troubled, he looks like he's 20 years older then he really is. He takes yet another hit of the cigarette before throwing it in the sink.
Devilkiller: Brazil, you are no match for me. I have nothing left to lose, absolutely nothing.
Devilkiller contorts his face in a weird smile, before putting the burning journal to his face, not taking all of it out but most, before peeling it away and tossing it into the sink, breathing heavily. His face is now a bright pink, there are some white flakes where some of the skin burned, and it looks as if he is literally smoking. Through this whole process he never lost the smile. He props his leg up before taking a deep breath.
Devilkiller: Tonight, "Basil", I won't play games or jokes like I did earlier. I'll be as serious as I just was, as sick, as demented, as twisted. I'll make sure you don't walk away tonight because I don't want to win, no, that's mainstream mate. I want to make you hurt. I want to be the one that breaks your leg right in f*cking half!
And with that Devilkiller stands up and walks sternly out of the tiny room.
-----
OOC: I didn't get inspiration until 11:00, and I had no time to make a full RP, so here's this. Next will be beautiful I promise.
I dont know good luck 
