Post by kiwii ღ on Oct 9, 2012 15:23:49 GMT -5
idk what i'm doing here gais. idk idk.
| [atrb=border,0,true] [atrb=width,400,bTable] [/style][style=float: right; margin-top: -8px; border: 4px solid #2E1B0F; height: 68px; width: 70px; border-radius: 3px; background-image: url(http://i417.photobucket.com/albums/pp256/doggydude24/South%20Italy%20icons/icon3.png);] {{ AND I'VE LEARNED TO LIVE – HALF- ALIVE. [STYLE=margin-left: 0px; padding-left: 13px; padding-top: 40px; padding-bottom: 3px; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 10px; line-height: 12px; color: #171007; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: -1px; border-left: 15px solid #2E1B0F; margin-top: 40px; margin-right: 0px; text-indent: 10px;]█ Ichiro's offered friendship had been sincere from the beginning, she knew, but not only that; it was also what made him distinct, made him special. He was the first - the one and the only - to have ever truly gone out of his way to disregard all flaws in her attempts at communicating, and to try befriending her nonetheless. Fuyumi could hear - to this day - his lively tone of voice declaring to her, for the millionth time, just how appreciative he was of their friendship (or, rather, of what potential they had at forming one mutually between one another, which still did not realistically amount to anything). Just as well, she could sense the genuinity which seeped through his words, through his tone and through his overall attitude, making all his enthusiasm and eagerness towards getting on her good side so much different from all other instances, where her peers were thought to have revealed to her the same - it was 'different,' as in real. But she herself couldn't feel a thing. Death itself had been apparent in the fumes which radiated from the motionless carcass of Nakamura Haru, Fuyumi recalled. She could smell fresh, open wounds as well as the thick, red liquid that still continued to pour from them, even when they'd come to stand over his body perhaps many minutes after he'd been murdered. The stench was almost overwhelming, but not in the horrific sense; simply because it smelled that badly by the time she had arrived to view the resulting casualty up close. She could also see it - death - in his eyes, as they stared blankly ahead at nothing, either orb no longer possessing the same liveliness it may have had before the male had gone perminently limp by way of the gunshot, which still visibly pierced his chest from where Fuyumi had been standing. With the sight of one deceased man stretched across the tile flooring in the middle of the school hallway, one would - perhaps after going into shock or being thrown into a panic of some sort - be drawn to the curiosity of 'just how many others could possibly be dead by this point'. The suspicion had surfaced within Fuyumi's clear mind only once, upon encountering Haru's carcass, after which she was quick to turn her attention away from it entirely, and move on towards what she viewed as far more important: getting her own self to safety. The tragic scene that'd been lying right there before her eyes; she hadn't thought anything of it. Sin's arms were strong, and they'd reeled her in from dangerous, precarious standpoints plenty of times. They'd protected her, proven worthy of acting as a safe haven for the Mochizuki girl (on the rare occasion that Sin did his job correctly), for if and whenever she decided that she needed it. She'd always hear that deep voice of his cooing at her from whatever angle they'd been standing at, executing the same sort of 'playboy charm' on her like he did with just about any other girl. He'd try it for a second, but then he'd give up, because apparently, she was just wasn't worth all of that. If Fuyumi was "any other girl", she figured she'd have probably fallen for it by now. If she was "any other girl", she'd have gotten weak at the knees with a single passing glance, each and every time he walked by, because that was all that she'd ever really observed from either of the Tsukami's little 'followers'. Although, if Fuyumi was "any other girl", Sin would have also probably not hated her so ridiculously much, too, because if Fuyumi really was just "any other girl", she wouldn't be the same emotionless, unsympathetic, 'robotic' excuse of a person that got on his nerves all the damn time with her stiffness. But seeing as that was not the case, she meant absolutely nothing to him. And he to her, or so the pattern predicts. And she shouldn't, wouldn't, couldn't feel a thing at all for that. Nothing at all... -- "Robot." That was what everyone she knew had described her as, which was a term that would, simply put, more commonly refer to an emotionless, lifeless being, whose only purpose was to feed off of its own supply of knowledge, and/or to expand upon it in every possible way. Fuyumi, of course, knew the actual textbook description practically by heart, because it just so happened that her biggest strong suit had everything to do with knowledge. Sometimes it did seem like it was the only thing she was good for, and that everything else she had to offer was either not good enough, or not necessary. And if not either of those, then it simply was not given proper acknowledgement, which didn't surprise her, given the lack of comprehension skills possessed by most students in Ouran. Although, even if they had displayed the appropriate sense of appreciation towards her efforts, Fuyumi wasn't even sure if it'd make much of a difference. She still wouldn't care, and soon enough, they would misplace all concern they had for it once again as well. All judgment they had regarding her would fall steadily back into place, in correspondence to the nickname she'd been dubbed with all along. "Robot." And she fit it so well, so perfectly well. However, it was the knowledge that emotions of any kind seemed almost forbidden to her nature, and that even if she wanted to, she couldn't bring herself to care about anything other than maintaining superiority - that alone was what bound her to this same routine, and kept her from being at all aware of what things there were to look forward to outside of academic achievement. It'd gotten to the point that human bonds were almost frightening to her. Because it was the one thing she couldn't do perfectly, just like she did in practically everything else. And she felt that; it even stung just a little bit.[/style] |
— made by kiwii!
