Post by Kero on Apr 12, 2009 12:15:03 GMT -5
{{hoping Zen might come to this one *casts a line with bait* XDD}}
The first sound was a click.
Music was a many-faceted gem. What one person liked soft, another could only feel the true power of hard and loud. In that way, it was a bit like love, and no matter what, one could always find meaning in music. Even as the soft notes drifted through the abandoned boathouse and the shore beyond, as quiet as they were to anyone not listening, they had a power in them. Perhaps accented by the mindset of the one who had his hand on the stereo, the sounds pulsed, and his orange eyes focused with a distant sort of intensity that could only be attained through deep thought as he waited for the perfect moment with a tenseness much like the string of an instrument before the violinist put the bow to it.
He’d chosen this spot because it was deserted in the mornings. There was never anyone in the boathouse but a creepy old man, and even he had to sleep sometime. Orien had kept a lookout to see when, and planned accordingly without even thinking much on the subject until he was already here. So now, he had the beach and the lake to himself, and a beautiful morning besides. He had snuck in so secretly that even the two tomcats he loved had been left back at his ‘home’ for the moment, left guarding a doctor’s office that was unlikely to have anything taken from it in the first place.
The reason why he wanted to be alone, though, that was the item of interest that had sparked such an effort to be certain of his solitude. It was the flash of a single second before the perfect moment had come and passed, and he was spurred into motion. Years of lessons, started first as an effort by his aunt to get him to bond with his cousins and later continued simply because he enjoyed it, showed while the man moved in strangely rhythmic ways, and as he got into the music, he began to forget the fact that he was sneaking in a dance at a campground full of psychic kids, finding the freedom to simply enjoy himself and what he was doing as his shame at it began to melt away.
Only a scant few people knew that Orien could dance. Those that did were only the most trusted or formally trusted of his life, or the ones that had made him do it in the first place. He didn’t like to risk the knowledge getting out and had been nervous about attempting anything like this for a long time. It no longer mattered, though, as he moved and twisted to a beat that was half in the air and half in his soul. The only thing that was missing was something that he dreaded getting.
The stereo switched to a new song as the first ended, and rather than stop at the risk of being discovered, the white-haired man showed no signs of stopping. There was no telling if he would ever get this chance again, and he didn’t want to waste it by stopping at just one song.
The first sound was a click.
Music was a many-faceted gem. What one person liked soft, another could only feel the true power of hard and loud. In that way, it was a bit like love, and no matter what, one could always find meaning in music. Even as the soft notes drifted through the abandoned boathouse and the shore beyond, as quiet as they were to anyone not listening, they had a power in them. Perhaps accented by the mindset of the one who had his hand on the stereo, the sounds pulsed, and his orange eyes focused with a distant sort of intensity that could only be attained through deep thought as he waited for the perfect moment with a tenseness much like the string of an instrument before the violinist put the bow to it.
He’d chosen this spot because it was deserted in the mornings. There was never anyone in the boathouse but a creepy old man, and even he had to sleep sometime. Orien had kept a lookout to see when, and planned accordingly without even thinking much on the subject until he was already here. So now, he had the beach and the lake to himself, and a beautiful morning besides. He had snuck in so secretly that even the two tomcats he loved had been left back at his ‘home’ for the moment, left guarding a doctor’s office that was unlikely to have anything taken from it in the first place.
The reason why he wanted to be alone, though, that was the item of interest that had sparked such an effort to be certain of his solitude. It was the flash of a single second before the perfect moment had come and passed, and he was spurred into motion. Years of lessons, started first as an effort by his aunt to get him to bond with his cousins and later continued simply because he enjoyed it, showed while the man moved in strangely rhythmic ways, and as he got into the music, he began to forget the fact that he was sneaking in a dance at a campground full of psychic kids, finding the freedom to simply enjoy himself and what he was doing as his shame at it began to melt away.
Only a scant few people knew that Orien could dance. Those that did were only the most trusted or formally trusted of his life, or the ones that had made him do it in the first place. He didn’t like to risk the knowledge getting out and had been nervous about attempting anything like this for a long time. It no longer mattered, though, as he moved and twisted to a beat that was half in the air and half in his soul. The only thing that was missing was something that he dreaded getting.
The stereo switched to a new song as the first ended, and rather than stop at the risk of being discovered, the white-haired man showed no signs of stopping. There was no telling if he would ever get this chance again, and he didn’t want to waste it by stopping at just one song.
