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http://www.mediafire.com/?v19mjouj4276a97 Lines are present for the chorus!
Since I have two slots of lines out of four left I suppose I shall take: They're out to get you, there's demons closing in on every side. Now is the time for you and I to cuddle close together, yeah.
Bonjour! Parts to claim please: You start to freeze as horror looks you right between the eyes { ♥ } You're paralyzed! 'Cause this is thriller, thriller night [So let me hold you tight and share a...]
Intermission I: The Shamrock and the Thistle The stormy north shores of Orkney were not a proper place for a young boy to inhabit, cold and alone, even if he was the keeper of the only lighthouse this side of Scapa Flow. Feenie "Finny" Flumpfoot, the fish-boy of the Firth, living isolated in the northernmost lighthouse of the Isles. A year ago Shetland dropped contact, back when Finny's father ran the place. That was a year ago, however. A great deal of things had changed since then. He was the only boy of his kind this far north. Heck, he was, perhaps, the only boy this far north period. Ever since his thirteenth birthday, he had not seen but a single soul near this monolithic Ionic column of a lighthouse, save for those surreptitious ships upon the stormstruck seas. He barely considered them, though - all they knew of him was the single, blinding lighthouse beacon, already past its prime and bound to lose its life soon, and all he knew of them was the build of their ships. It was a separative, glass-walled existence. Tonight was like any other night. Finny had thought the nights of the north had lost their magic as he continued to lose the warmth of his being. Living alone for a good year does that to a person, especially a poor boy of his young fourteen years of age. He sat in his usual spot - slumped by the large lighthouse lamp, flickering at times, but continuing to shine its beautiful moonlight beam into the dark and tumultuous seas below. A beacon helping to guide lost seabound souls towards home, run by a lost soul who had only the beacon to call home. Finny's face was mournful, even in the light of the room. His flat cap had almost intentionally evolved upon his head to slope more and more downward, obscuring his constantly tired eyes. The boy was nocturnal - his night time was the time to save lives - but lately the winter skies had been dark enough for his beacon being forced to shine even in the afternoon. His soft, barely expressed frown had almost become a component of his face. His eyes had run out of the tears he would sometimes meet as the only other thing in this lonely lighthouse, but they stopped. Every night, he would always be cold. He would be shivering, huddled up next to the enormous lamp, his knees close to his chest in a veritable effort to gain some warmth from himself. Most nights, however, he fell asleep with the hand of a frost or chill upon his shoulder. He took days of sunshine - rare as they were - with a careful quality, but the nights would always let the cold return. He missed his blanket. He missed the blanket that his father would let him use. That was long gone, now. He missed people in general. Some nights he wondered if he would always be alone in this manner. Never to see a soul again. It scared him and hurt him. He did not want this. He had no choice, though. Living a life of eremitic solitude to keep the job of his father going - that is, to save the lives of innocent people. Sometimes, it was the only thing that kept the poor boy going. Tonight, however - tonight, he was tired. He was tired and struck with a bout of cold worse than usual. He let out a soft sigh, and brought his legs close to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around them as he had done time and time again. He still shivered, struck by the seaside chill. He would always continue to shiver. His eyes dropped to his feet. The same shoes he had worn for a good year now, becoming more and more ruined. He began to drift off to sleep for a quick moment. A snap. However, his eyes quickly lit as he heard the tell tale sound of a ship - a small one - rocking against the tides of the lunar-struck sea. He rushed off to the edge of the window, the open space sans glass that opened up into a long fall towards the sea and rocks below, and peered outward. Even in the light of the beacon, he did not find anything. Yet, his aural sense of shipward sound was impeccable and absolutely perfect. This surely meant he missed a ship come by. He slumped to the ground. He missed a ship. He missed a life - a lost soul upon these seas that could have been and may still be in danger. Whatever could he do, though? He did not hear any prevailing winds that may have sent the ship off into the rocks directly. Neither did he hear the ship steer off course towards the primary concentration of rocks in the first place. A slight bit of relief overcame him. He sighed again. This, however, brought the attention of the coldness to his consciousness again. He let out a shiver and moved back to his position by the beacon. What a way to live a life, especially for such a young boy. He missed hearing the voice of another person, if not just to reassure him everything was going to be okay. Then he heard something he had not heard for a year. It let him lift his head. His eyes lit up again. It was a knock. A clear knock - a knock on the door of the lighthouse, down at the bottom, that reverberated through the entire stone structure. He rushed towards the door. His footfalls were thunderous upon the ancient stone steps and it was as if he flew downwards upon the great, twisting staircase. His legs could not take him any faster. When he reached the door, however, he felt a pang of doubt within his heart. He slowed down. Nobody in their right mind would visit this lighthouse at the end of the world. It was his imagination. Those bangs were simply thunder from the storm. They had to be. But then there was another hard rapping of the large wooden door, and a muffled cry from behind. What in the world? Finny opened the door. With the sudden downpour descending upon the lighthouse only a moment ago and the fog that arrived with it, at first he could barely make out the shape of any person. But as his eyes adjusted he laid his vision upon the form of a young girl, about his age but shorter, with bright green eyes and a three-leaf clover in her long hair. She stood shivering, wet from the rain, and immediately ran inside the building. He was surprised. Extremely surprised. A person. Another human being like him - right next to him. His mouth was agape and his eyes wide. A person. There was another person. A person right here. A person in the lighthouse. A second person. Another person. And - god, what was he doing? He suddenly snapped back to reality as he saw the girl on her knees, huffing and puffing and wrapping her arms around herself in her shivering. The girl did not say a word, but after a while, she looked up at him with a kind and grateful stare. He decided to do the best thing he could - unbuttoning his wool coat, he walked over to the cold girl and draped it around her silently. She blushed for a moment, and brought the coat closer around herself, closing her eyes in the feeling of its warmth. The room was filled only with the noise of the thunder and rainfalls outside, the two remaining silent for a long while. Eventually, the girl turned towards Finny. "T-thank you." She said, softly. A smile appeared on her face. "What's your name, anyway?" Her accent was rather peculiar. Finny had never heard it before. Then again, he had never been anywhere south of Glasgow. "Uh, name's Finny." The girl let out a soft laugh. "Finny! Cute name. I like your accent too, it's grand! I've never heard anything like it before, though." Finny looked down as he blushed at the comment. "Where'd you come from anyway?" The girl closed her eyes for a moment. "Across the sea. My ship landed here due to the weather." "Across the sea?" "Yep. Across the sea. Guess you could say that." "That isn't any help! The sea's all around this bloody place!" The girl stood up and walked over to the boy. She placed her hands on her hips and stuck her face out at him. "Well, at least I'm lucky enough to have found something here, barely! Maybe you can take some hints as to where I hail from later on." Finny looked away back to the door in contemplation while the girl began to move around the room. It was rather drab - filled only with a few pictures of Finny and his father, a large wooden wardrobe, a very small, very antiquated kitchen stove, and a simple, untidy bed. She leaped on top of it and rested her head on the flattened pillow. "Uh, apologies at my little outburst there, miss." Finny continued to look at the door. "Huh?" She turned to him. "What? You're a silly guy! You don't have to be sorry over something that's not even insulting!" Finny turned towards her. "I'm aware, but I - what - what are you doing on my bed?" "It's comfy, isn't it! Really warm and nice from a cold outside. It sort of reminds me of your coat. And anyways, I've gotta know what it'll be like for my sleeping conditions!" "Your sleeping conditions? That's my bed, though! And even - " Finny cut himself off for a moment as he began to realize. This poor young lady had been out on these dangerous and stormy seas for a good while, especially in the horrendously cold weather that shrouded the islands at this time of the year. "Ah, it's okay. You need the bed anyway. I'll take the floor or sleep upstairs or something." "Don't be silly, Finny! I thought you'd know we'd be sharing this bed!" "W-what?" "I'm not letting you sleep on the cold floor in this godforsaken cell of Kelvin. We're sleeping in this bed together." She smiled mischievously. "How - even - what - it's too small, first of all, and - sleeping in the same bed!" "Oh nuts, both of us can fit here, y'know." Finny's face had turned a stark red. He brought the brim of his flat cap down and began stomping towards the stairs. "Right! Okay! You know what, it's still some time until I can actually even get back to sleep! I'm gonna be staying upstairs looking out for a while! Good-bye! Right! Stay in bed!" "You're getting flustered for no reason, lighthouse boy!" The girl called from down below, her voice growing quieter as he continued up the stairs. Finny reached the lamp room of the lighthouse. The rain poured through the open spaces of the windows and the wind was rough. The lamp shook a bit beneath the strain, and the bright moonlight beam flickered. He was used to this. He once again sat next to the lamp, his legs huddled to his chest, as carefully scanned the rough seas. A person. There was a person with him. A person there, here, right in the lighthouse. And - it thus dawned to him - he left her there. He left his only company since forever down in his bed to sleep. She would probably leave the next morning. He did not even get her name! His shoulders suddenly felt heavy and a knot surfaced in his stomach. He could not go down and chat with the lass - lives were at stake. But it was after a year. A year of only himself. There was another person here in the lighthouse - in his home - and he could not even meet her. It hurt him. He was an idiot for even inviting her - for giving himself this false sense of hope and then a constant coaxing of visiting her when he almost physically could not. He felt tears - tears, for the first time in months - roll down his cheeks. He felt like a pathetic boy. He felt pathetic and helpless. And - heck, he could be missing ships - lives at stake! He was dawning on this too much. He ignored the streams of bitter tears now running down his greyed and grim face. The wind grew colder and more violent. He grit his teeth as he huddled himself up into a ball. He did not even have his jacket with him. The wind was biting at his body and his soul. He could barely handle all of this. A loud sniffle of his echoed through the chamber and his breathing grew heavy. A drowsiness associated with overwhelming quality overcame him. He was too tired - oh so tired. Too tired to think or want to think. But he then heard soft echoing footfalls upon the stairs. He did not turn to look. He did not even react. He closed his eyes. Suddenly, however, he felt a surge of feeling - the warmth of a blanket draped over his body. The warmth of that girl suddenly hugging him tightly by his side, resting her head close to his. Her warm embrace seemed to invigorate him - to comfort him on a deeply soulful level - and with such an effort, he simply managed to open his eyes and stare at the equally-wide, bright ones of the blushing-yet-smiling girl latched onto him. "You gave me somewhere warm to stay while I was out here," The girl said. "It's only right for me to save my saviour, isn't it?" Finny was speechless. This girl - the one person he had met after a year - had saved him from another night of despair. Another night of loneliness and harrowing, dismal depression. For the first time on these windy nights, he felt warm. The blanket never helped, neither did the jacket. He was warmed simply by the the tender and gentle presence of the girl next to him - the presence which warmed both his body and his heart, as the two sat very close together, resistant to the cold, in the lamp room of the lighthouse. He only just met her, but it seemed as if they had already been close friends for a long time. He did not want to lose her. The girl giggled. "My boat was able to let off a distress radio signal earlier then. I'm pretty sure a few boats that I passed and bantered with would be able to track us here and get us back home. Both of us." She smiled. "I'm pretty sure the coast guard or the lighthouse administration or what have you don't think it's right for a child to be out alone here. You've done your job and you've done it well! In fact, I think tomorrow morning is when we'll be okay and all rescued." Finny dawned upon this for a moment. The lighthouse was the only home he had, yet it never truly was a home for him. He had always been a lost soul. He loved the idea of living close to people, however. Suddenly, another thought crossed his mind. "You never told me your name," Finny pointed out in a whisper. "Daxa." "Thank you, thank you for everything, Daxa." He smiled. For the rest of the night, the boy and the girl would take turns resting and keeping watch of the seas around the lighthouse, in a final stand-off against the forces of the ocean and the tides. Whenever the storm became more intense, they would huddle up to each other and cuddle each other. Finny loved these moments of being able to hug someone. Daxa always let out her soft giggles that seemed to turn the atmosphere more optimistic. Upon the break of dawn, a handful of fishermen brought the two children to the town of Kirkwall. Finny was amazed at how many people were in this town. Daxa was horrendously happy to be reunited with her parents again. She had taken off on one of her father's boats to assist in his marine research near the west coast of Scotland, but a storm had blown her off course and she had been moving on open sea for many days. If not for the beacon of the lighthouse drawing her boat to the island, she would have missed it completely and would have moved into the cold, open waters of the North Sea, far from any other boats. She, too, had missed the comforting presence of a person. Daxa and her family were to return to Ireland, it turned out. However, Daxa spent a sunny afternoon in a town cafe attempting to convince her parents to take Finny with them. He had no home. Her attempts were successful, and as the sun was setting, Finny had already cleared the old lighthouse of his possessions. The new lighthouse watchman - a gruff, older man who had many direct connections with both the people and the town of Kirkwall itself, and whom was considered to be much more adjusted to such jobs - bid the boy a hearty farewell from the top of the building. His leave was bittersweet. He had spent quite a bit of time in the lighthouse, and had a close connection to it. He was going to miss the lighthouse, and his role him and his father played there. Yet, he also knew the lighthouse for how it trapped his soul like a forgotten gaol on the corner of the world. Solemnly, he reached for his pocket and retrieved a small thistle. Moving towards the placard next to the door, worn and damaged with the wisdom of ages by the sea, he stuck the stem between the wood and the stone, and there the thistle was laid to rest. He lived with Daxa's family in Dublin. He felt it quite odd, being the thistle amongst the field of shamrocks, but he became used to his unique position. Daxa and Finny spent a large amount of time together, and they shared quite a bit of interests, though she could only give him hugs when her parents were not present. Finny would always jokingly refer to her activities and interest in him, along with her love of such actors as Tim Curry, as "stalkerish". It was in these times, however, Finny, would constantly smile more and more. Of course, how could one not smile at least once when they had someone to love and to be loved be? He had been a lost soul guiding souls. Finally had his soul ceased its incessant wandering and searching, guided by another lost soul from an unlikely location. Now he would bloom anew. Whenever he visited these stormy islands, however, he would always return to the lighthouse, if only to reminisce on his role as a saviour of lives thought to be condemned to a life that would never be saved and forever trapped. This lighthouse allowed him to bloom, however - even if the result had been something prickly at first, he would always be softened by his constant interaction with his beloved lucky clover. o o o o o The book closed with a soft thud. Llave's gentle eyes were slightly tearful behind his glasses. What an interesting read. Whenever he had time, he would usually visit the school library and pick out any sort of intriguing story that caught his artistic eye. The peace and quiet of the library, along with its immaculate collection, gave him time to think and reflect - whether it be on his next artistic work, or his own life. Such was the power of fiction. Llave let out a quiet sigh of satisfaction. His tranquillity was then suddenly interrupted as the placid silence of the library was suddenly shattered by the cantankerous and obnoxious sound of his ring tone. He immediately scrambled into his pocket to retrieve his phone, but upon viewing the name of the caller on the screen, his eyes widened in surprise. "Haseo? Why in the world would Haseo be calling me?"
I have a dream that one day my good friends will not be judged by the colour of their usernames but by the content of their character.
Acronyms fighting acronyms over an acronym. It sounds like any political conflict.
Are you all paramilitary organizations ready to fight over the forum or some such. I am terrified.
Whoever wins the hundred dollars will require foundation repair for their storehouse.
The "Misty" is simply an aristocratic staff title, similar to the duchess or marquise. In reality, "Misty" is in fact a conspiracy consisting of a shared account between Chevalier on his bad days, RvR on his good days, both of Tienewman's dogs at the same time, and Amaury in his sleep.
I hope you are not wearing Forsaken. That would make you less a Soviet leader and more a serial killer. Then again, if you are talking Stalin, those terms are interchangeable.
Goodness everyone in this thread this is not how you begin a revolution! What are you, the Russian White Guard? Someone here must be a Lenin and gather the masses to support your revolution! Stand united under a single cause! Show those inept tsar staff folk who is boss! Ah, wait-
Amaury's slaves' milkshakes brings all the Amauries to the yard, and Amaury's like, "it's better than yours."
Ah, let me explain the name change good sir. Green dared myself to change my name in a game of truth or dare. I was able to find a loophole,...
Hello fellow 1%, let us go back to consume our top tier 1% of the highest caviar whilst simultaneously driving our first class cars that are 1% of the luxury car industry and also destroying 1% of the planet for each breath we take.
I hear Mike's nobody is famous for his liberal use of tomatoes, corn-based tortillas, and spices in his cooking.
Yes this is a story for Sumi's birthday! Happy birthday madam! --- CHIAROSCURO CHAPTER I Quite honestly, at this point, she barely put any attention towards even this very event which shook the peace and tranquillity of her small country suburb. It had happened, however, and that was certainly something. But nobody could truly blame her at first for not reacting extravagantly - of course, she barely knew the boy. His death came only as a shock of sympathy for her - the shock of sympathy and sadness all humans have for the death of another, even if not known personally. But, beyond that, it did not affect her too emotionally. She did not know him personally, after all. And indeed, why would she? She was an introverted young lass, most definitely. She was new to this town, despite having lived here for a good year now. Still a newcomer to the nuances and assets. Her shyness and bookishness did not help. A very bright, intelligent girl, but she kept to herself. The manners and kindness of a saint, but she did not let anyone see this. Though indeed, through these layers and bulwarks of multitudinous distance, she held a budding flower of loneliness within the ornate bohemian chambers of her heart. She knew she had little friends here, if at all. The girl was frustrated greatly with this fact, but she tried not to mind it. Even she, this angel of serenity and quiescence, wished for some company. But even then, her distance from her peers kept her from making any direct emotional connections with them. She poured out her emotionally-charged heart straight upon her sleeve in her poetic dramaticisms and beat readings. She cried torrential downpours whenever something bad happened to those which she cared about. Yet through this, to those her age - in her class, in her town - she was as taciturn as a black marble statuette. It was indeed, for this very reason, that this girl, her long and curly auburn hair sailing the harsh breeze, stood for the uncountable time in her usual location of contemplation. She stared at the great empty field - broken up here and there by enormous electrical towers that symbolized the points of civilization in her thoughts - before her through her thick-rimmed glasses, her mind in the midst of a deep ponder. She enjoyed thinking about things. It was to say that her own mind was, and had been, her closest friend for a good while, and this empty field outside her home on the edge of the boondocks provided a vestige of contemplation for herself. Her thoughts were her friends. They had always been and would continue to be. The breeze would always rush by as if an enormous aircraft were by her being, or flying overhead. She was used to it, however. She never minded it. She was not cold. Her long hair would drift in the air as if surfing the levanter. Indeed, this breeze seemed to be the only thing that would calm her and her thoughts. Usually. Sometimes the breeze would be vicious and she would not be able to even stay amongst this blueglass field any further. She thought the day on which this happened was arbitrary. In truth, it was impossible for her to see the proper reason by herself. The sun was high in the sky. It was noon time, and all was silent save for the swift breeze. The young girl sighed and sat herself down upon the soft cushion-like grass. She turned her gaze to the enormous electrical towers off in the distance before her. They were like harsh metal skeletons of cubist trees, imposing and ethereal, grim reminders of the isolation of her country town and the structures that always brought her thoughts back to the ground. Electrical grounding towers, she would muse. She liked them, though. They were stable and always omnipresent - just like the world around her. She bit her lip. Almost like the world around her. These towers did bring forth a memory for her to ponder. The death of the boy. Not that she particularly had any deep-rooted caring, but the circumstances were simply odd. As she shifted her legs into a more comfortable position, her boots moving around the grass, the girl thought of the incident that had happened this morning. Finally, a day where she was awake earlier than usual and would not be late. A day where all of her projects were completed on time, her homework was set, and they would be leaving early. Midway through her morning toast it was that she received a text on her phone from a project partner who had the consideration to tell her that a student had died close to the property and school was cancelled for the day. She had dropped her breakfast in surprise and sympathetic sadness, at first. Later on, the school had called her home. A free day on the one day she was completely and utterly ready. She had found out later that the boy in question, a student in her grade that she barely knew, lost his life the day before, most likely in the midst of the enormous storm that had struck the previous afternoon and all of the damage it caused. What scared her more so, however, was how close the boy had died to her proximity when the girl had been running home before. She had been shaken by both the death and the fact that it happened. But now, she could only contemplate in her usual location. It was fairly peculiar, though. Probably the biggest event that had happened in her country town for a while. It was a true shame that it had to be the death of a youthful young man, however. The girl brought her knees close to her chest and retrieved her phone from her coat pocket. It was a small tablet of an object, simply a fanciful touch-screen which at the moment bore bright and loud letters to signify the time - "12:59 PM". She expected that her mother would be calling her soon. What a punctual lady. She would return straight from work and tell her to get home soon, even more so considering the incident that had happened. The girl let out another sigh as the wind continued to blow her long hair as if a cape before her being. The scene seemed almost magical, but what was instead present was herself deep within the middle of her typical thought processes. What was she to do for the week, then? The school had been shut down for a good seven days. It was a true shame, as well. It was, at least, good however, that she would have time to herself for an entire week. Almost as if she would receive a sort of break or holiday from the stress that bombarded her constantly. Ring. Ring. Ring. The girl, her thoughts shattered and interrupted, picked up her phone and answered the call. "Sumi, are you there, dear?" "Oh, hi there mom. Good to see you're back already." "Yeah, okay. I heard about what happened. Get home right now, please. Lunch is gonna be ready soon anyway and it's already past noon hour." "Right, thanks mom. I'll be there in a jiff." The girl was about to end the call but she was interrupted by her mother saying something else. "And one more thing, sweetie. You've got seven days off, right? I want you to do something instead of just sitting your butt down in front of the computer or in the field some ways from the house. You've gotta start knowing people, right? You can't just live a hermit forever." The girl was silent through this entire ordeal, and instead of replying to her mother's comment, simply cut the line. She raised herself up, the breeze continuing as normal, and turned herself around, her back to her thoughts, her front to the reality of her small country town. Far off in the distance, strides away, were the abandoned train tracks that served as almost a border for her little domain - her own small country of nothing but her ideas she ruled over and the imposing electrical towers - and the inclement yet silent business of her little town. Even further past the train tracks was the small street that bore her home - indeed, this house of hers and her mother was directly on the border of the town. This town, in itself, was almost like an island - surrounded on almost all sides by empty field and connected only to the enormous highways traversing the emptiness of the state through roads in the north. She missed the city so dearly. She ran across the empty field towards the train tracks, the rush of the breeze driving her striding legs further forward and furiously faster. The sun continued to cast forth its bright rays and phalanges across the windy, empty plain, but the first signs of afternoon cloudiness had begun to wake out of their morning hibernations and continue their day in overcast dances. She did not like the afternoon or even evening outside too much - these times seemed to bring out her worry and reality even more, and she was not a fan of it. She stopped at the train tracks, catching her breath. Here, however, she heard a voice call out to her. "Ah! Hey there!" She turned around and saw a boy, sitting on one of the tracks, a sandwich in his hands and a large, silly smile on his face. His bright blue eyes were intently staring at her. She turned around and glanced at him, a bit dumbstruck and nervous to find someone else here. Usually nobody her age wandered around this part of town. In fact, it seemed like she knew this boy from somewhere. Perhaps she had seen him down by the market earlier. "Oh, uh, hello." She said, nervously. "Who- who are you? I've never, uh, seen you 'round these parts." The boy laughed. "Oh! Well, I don't think I need to tell you my name just right now. This is pretty much the first time I've been around here, though. It is really nice. The breeze is a bit too much for me, though. I'm pretty surprised nobody else comes by around these parts, honestly." "Well, it's at the edge of the town, right? I wouldn't think that anyone would like to come to this boring place." "Boring! How can anyone find such beauty boring!" The boy took a bite out of his sandwich. "Not boring enough for me to eat lunch here." The girl smiled. This boy was fun to speak with, something that she had not seen with the other boys in the town whom she was simply nervous over. She seemed more comfortable with him. The boy stood up. "I think it's about time I head off, though. I saw you running like a marathon runner from down further in the field. Are you off somewhere as well?" "Y-yeah," the girl replied. "I have to get home. It isn't that far, though - just down the road there. D-do you live nearby?" The boy placed the last of his sandwich in his mouth, and after a bout of chewing, finally replied. "Uh, sort of, I guess. I mean, I'm from this town - which, haha, I guess should be a given since I'm out here. Hey, my home is down by that way as well - well that is, I need to take this road. Why don't we walk together, then?" "Oh, uh, sure. That's okay." The girl looked down at her shoes in embarrassment. Walking with a random boy. What would her mother say? The boy and the girl walked together towards the girl's home. It was but a very brief walk, and the two were able to exchange brief banter with each other. The girl constantly smiled to herself throughout the entire ordeal. She had not spoken with someone so closely for absolute ages. When they reached the front step of the girl's home, the boy was ready to leave. "Oh, hey! I need to ask you something, though. If that is okay." He asked. "What is it?" "What is your number? We should stay in contact sometime." The girl was surprised. A boy was asking for her number, and on casual terms! This was an absolute first for her. She fumbled with her phone for a quick moment, noting how her contact list was mostly empty save for her mother and a few project partners. She gave the boy her number. "Thanks, uh - what is your name, anyway?" "Oh! S-sorry! My name is Sumi! Are you gonna tell me your name yet?" The boy smiled. "I'll text it to you, along with my number." And with that, he went off the in the opposite direction, towards his home. The girl sat down on her step for a second, glancing between the boy and her phone. She had made a friend. Hopefully. Did she actually make a friend? It almost seemed unreal. In her daze, she heard the sound of a sharp clink on the pavement. Glancing back upwards, the boy had disappeared completely, but what was left was a small object scintillating in the bright sunlight. She leaped off of the step and ran over to the object - a strange necklace of sorts, bearing a solid black stone sphere that was somehow able to reflect the light rather well. She concluded the stone must have fallen out of the boy's pocket when he was walking. Putting it in hers, she decided that the first thing she would do tomorrow would be to give this necklace back to her new friend. Just then, she received the text. It was from the boy, and bore a short statement, simply saying "You know, I love plum sandwiches. I'd be pretty privy to you calling me Plums right now. It's a nickname people give me." The girl smiled.
Happy birthday kawaii sugoi subarashii moe moe chan tan sama desu. Your present shall be up quite soon.
You are implying, however, that it was not one of my favourite television shows when I was but a young one as well!
