Build A Boat || OPEN

[melissaclark]

[atrb=valign, top, true][atrb=cellpadding, 5, true][atrb=valign, top][atrb=cellspacing, 0, true][atrb=width, 400, true][atrb=border, 0, true] [style=border: 7px solid #191919; width: 80px; height: 80px; margin-top: -5px; -moz-border-radius: 5px 5px 5px 5px;][/style] [style=border: 7px solid #191919; width: 80px; height: 80px; margin-top: -7px; -moz-border-radius: 5px 5px 5px 5px][/style] [style=border: 7px solid #191919; width: 80px; height: 80px; margin-top: -7px; -moz-border-radius: 5px 5px 5px 5px][/style]

[atrb=style, text-align: justify; background: #191919; color: #787883; padding: 10px; border-radius: 0px 0px 20px 0px; -moz-border-radius: 10px 10px 10px 10px;][style=height: 302px; overflow: auto; padding: 4px;]Some days Melissa would convince herself that she wasn't dead, and was simply in a coma waiting to be woken up. There were so many things that she wished could have come true, but she just knew that it wasn't going to be happening. There was a primal instinct inside her that told her to give up foolish hope like that. And she supposed that that was exactly what she had done. But with that thought in mind she needed some light hearted enjoyment in her afterlife, regardless of how hopeless the days seemed. The twenty two year old woman ventured to a nearby park, following signs she didn't recognise. The leaves were green and the grass was healthy. The blonde woman strode past a bench, foot steps slow and relaxed as she moved forward. She found herself wandering about the park for hours, wasting away the hours of the day. By the time she came to a stop, it was only midday. Death had eliminated the need for sleep, and she had been in the park since dawn. She hadn't found any joy in nature since becoming dead those months ago, and she hadn't found any joy in nature when she was alive either. But the park held promise for enjoyment, something she was seeking today. Eventually, the blue eyed woman came across a playground. A small area filled with children under normal circumstances. A fitting metaphor was to call it a ghost town. She sat down on a swing, and upon grasping it successfully and not falling through (she had been having some trouble with not falling through things, after the discovery of being able to walk through walls) began to move it. Sometimes she wondered how this was possible, but as it began to shift under her weight, she breathed out and found herself luxuriating in the simpleness of the outdoor activity.[/style]

[LEO ANGEL HOLBROOK]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 420px; padding: 0px; border-top: 20px solid #151515;][bg=2e4461] [style=background-color: 8e8855;position: relative; padding: 2px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 19px; color: #000000; text-align: center; letter-spacing: -2px; opacity: 0.8]then i'd be another memory Eight years of being dead, and not much had changed. The outside world was different, the living people were changing, times were moving quicker. It was interesting to watch, and if you weren't careful about it, you could loose track of yourself if you didn't pay attention to the mortal world. As far as being dead was, though, things stayed pretty steady. Once Leo got over the jitters of the fact that he was indeed dead – though the explosion and consequent pain and uselessness of his left ear could tell him that much – things were simple. Being dead, you lived the existence you wanted to live. Leo could easily touch things or not touch things, could sleep or even attempt at eating, if he really wanted to. His mind, which somehow worked just as well in his ethereal form, imported the information he would usually receive by sense. Most likely to keep him sane. He could still smell, though that was more of a torture than anything. Eight years and the smell of meat still made him violently sick. Being dead, Leo could almost do anything, but yet he found himself living nearly the same existence from day to day. That was the problem with immortality – for however long he was stuck in this limbo – it got boring. Suddenly knowing he could do anything he wanted to didn't mean that Leo was viable to try it. The option was there and that was enough for him. He didn't know what city he was, what country, what world. There were people here who were alive, and dead. Leo hadn't seen his father, or his home town, since before he left for his last station at war. He hadn't wanted to, though, and perhaps that’s why he ended up here. Or maybe all ghosts just ended up in this random city, floating around until their unfinished business was finished. Problem was, Leo didn't know what unfinished business he had. So he spent his days wandering the city, watching the living, coming up with his own existence. Leo lived like he was alive, often bunkering down in a hotel or alley for the night, although he found it harder to sleep with each passing day. To brighten the daylight hours, he exercised, tiring his body out. Or, his spirit. Leo didn't know how it worked. He jogged, and he wanted that to make him tired and out of breath, and so it did. He never broke a sweat however, and he was sure his physique would not dither if he stopped. It was the routine of it, that was the only reason. So everyday, Leo would find himself jogging, often in separate parts of the city at separate times, if only to avoid falling into the scheduled regime pounded into him by the military. Leo did not know the park he was in, but he hardly took stock of the city around him. Sometimes it seemed to change, with new sights to see everyday, and other parts he could recognize. He didn't have to worry about getting lost, or ending up in a bad area of town. Even alive, Leo could protect himself. Though, he avoided violence in retrospect of the fact that he could kill a man, and had in the past. It was relatively quiet though, even if the sun was high in the sky. Leo kept moving, his body well tuned to the exertion. Sometimes he wondered just how long he could keep moving for, if he would ever collapse, ever grow sick of it. He was rounding the bend near a small playground after what felt like an hour when he stopped, his strides slowing to a walk, and he could swear he could feel his heart beating blood through his veins again. Leo ran a hand through his hair, looking up at the park, and it would be impossible not to see the girl sitting on the swing there. If there was one thing about being dead that he didn't have a handle on, it was telling if other people were dead. To him, they all looked the same. Some were still in the clothing they died in, but Leo had luckily figured out that little parlour trick, or he'd be stuck in his heavy fatigues. The only thing he had from death was his waking nightmares and damage to his left ear, making it so that if he had lived, he would have been classified as deaf in that ear. Regardless of his questioning, he approached the playground, noting the way it did seem a lovely place to sit. Leo never was one to haunt the living, but sometimes he liked to pretend he had company, a friend, anything. “Aren't you a little old to be playing on a swing set?” he called out, staying a few feet from the swing set, his tone friendly. He always felt slightly off around living people especially talking, worried that they might hear him, or something of him. Even if they couldn't see him, Leo was sure that he shared some connection with mortals still, and they could connect with his spirit in some way. He didn't want to frighten this girl if she was living, he never wanted to harm anyone. [/style] WORDS - 886 - NOTES - i did not try to make this so long i swear x.x - TAG - melissa! [/style]

table credited to madame marianna @ caution 2.0

[melissaclark]

[atrb=valign, top, true][atrb=cellpadding, 5, true][atrb=valign, top][atrb=cellspacing, 0, true][atrb=width, 400, true][atrb=border, 0, true] [style=border: 7px solid #191919; width: 80px; height: 80px; margin-top: -5px; -moz-border-radius: 5px 5px 5px 5px;][/style] [style=border: 7px solid #191919; width: 80px; height: 80px; margin-top: -7px; -moz-border-radius: 5px 5px 5px 5px][/style] [style=border: 7px solid #191919; width: 80px; height: 80px; margin-top: -7px; -moz-border-radius: 5px 5px 5px 5px][/style]

[atrb=style, text-align: justify; background: #191919; color: #787883; padding: 10px; border-radius: 0px 0px 20px 0px; -moz-border-radius: 10px 10px 10px 10px;][style=height: 302px; overflow: auto; padding: 4px;]Melissa was quite happily enjoying herself. Her eyes were hooded and her lips were in an indifferent smirk as she viewed the world. Even the gentle breeze that blew across the grass seemed as dead as she was. Tenderly, as she swung on her seat, legs tossing to and fro, five slender fingers came down to the blonde woman's rib cage. She touched at the red stain in her jacket and her shirt and wondered if she'd ever be able to change that outfit, or at least mask the horrid stain at some point. The wound wasn't visible now that she was dead, but it felt like the aftermath was still very present. Sometimes, upon concentrating very deeply she concentrated the ability to walk through physical matter to her hand, and she would then touch at the mess inside her body. She could definitely feel the puncture wound in her lung, or she at least convinced herself that she could. After some time Melissa's hand returned to the chain that kept the plastic seat of the swing above the ground. Melissa was easing back and forth, her feet keeping her at a controllable and comfortable pace. Her eyes were open, and didn't blink. That was the thing about being dead. Necessary things that happened when you were alive didn't seem to make an appearance any more. Still, her eyes appeared to be wet enough. She shrugged it off, and was tilting her head back, letting a waterfall of pale blonde hair fall down her back. It wouldn't grow, so she didn't think she was ever going to cut it. She didn't think she could, as a matter of fact. Had Mel been alive, she might have snapped her neck with how quickly it sprang up at the sound of a voice nearby. Thankfully, she was not alive, and mimicked a breath of relief. She was about to speak, forever content with being the first to speak in conversations like this, but she was beaten to it by this newcomer. Two warm, blue eyes glittered and two thin shoulders jolted upwards in a tight shrug. A smile was playing on her face, however, kissing at her light lips. "Probably. But I'm not gonna age again, I gather. So I might as well revisit this sort of stuff!" Melissa's voice was light, and after a moment of hesitation she hoped would go unnoticed, she stood slowly from the swing set. Perhaps if Melissa was still living she would have approached the situation with more caution, but what was he going to do that could affect her? With leisurely steps she meandered over, and though he was close, she wanted to get closer. Once some of the distance was closed, a cocky, lopsided smile appeared on her face. "You always talk to strangers?"[/style]