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Post by Henri Klemmensen on Jan 16, 2012 19:49:02 GMT -5
• • • • • • •[/color]   ([/color] it never is, i tell myself i can take this)[/color] WAITING FOR SOMETHING I COULD NEVER FIND
TO COME KNOCKING DOWN MY DOOR
BUT WAITING'S SUCH A WASTE OF TIME
[/color][/center] It'd been as simple as any other day would have been. Sure, the strawberry fields weren't the best place to be wandering around, but Henri was. In a seemingly stereotypical airheadedness, it seemed. It was something considered so stereotypical, so normal for somebody who was an Aphrodite kid. A lot of people thought of them as the people who really didn't have minds. Sure, most of the time, they were more vain and more... appreciative of beauty, but not all of them were stupid. Sure, they had their fair share of idiots, and the type of people who could care less about people and more about themselves. But still. Not everybody was those stereotypical people. Because stereotypical behavior was something that Henri did not attend to. Regardless of being a son of the goddess of beauty, Henri kind of didn't fit the mold. Sure, he was a hopeless romantic just as they all were, but still. He wasn't the stereotypical person you'd expect his parentage to be.
So he sighed, wandering through the said strawberry patch. His shoes scraped the edges of the dirt and he wondered what the hell was wrong with his own negative behavior at that moment. He wasn't going to be negative. He really needed to be happier. It was something he encouraged, and as he sighed, he looked up and tried to think of a way to be more positive. Because positive behavior was going to make him happy, and he decided to try to be more happy with his life. Because life was pretty good. Sure, he wasn't the most free, but in fact, who was when you were a demi-god, and sure, he really never knew his Mother. But it was something he could consider fortunate. There was somebody out there that actually wasn't dead. Nor was his father, but still.... His father kind of scared him. Whatever. Positive attitudes were going to be happy. He sighed and looked at the sky, wondering why it wasn't satisfied. It ate away at him and he really didn't understand why it was.
Sighing, he rolled his eyes and looked at the strawberry patches that were underneath his shoes. Sighing, he just picked something out of his mind and turned around, smiling like a freaking idiot. A song. Sure, he wasn't the biggest singer, but he did like his fair share of music. With a reluctant smile, he decided that maybe singing something would help. Sure, it probably wouldn't, but positive energy came from music, he presumed. It was something he'd always lived by on a moral. Despite the fact that he was raised in some cabin in the middle of Colorado, he'd grown up with music. His father loved older music, like the Rolling Stones and had said "Sure, the Beatle's are important to music and all that, but really. It's not like they were original" He had said and then went on his way. His step mother (Well, kind of, since she'd pretty much raised him, but you know, technically wasn't his biological mother because of the whole demi-god thing....) had been an Abba fanatic and now his ears suffered whenever he heard that since she would constantly karaoke around the house. It'd been a pretty interesting experience, and even his step-half-sister had been into music. Of course, it'd have been some outrageous pop-punk band (Was it Panic! at the something?) and basically, he'd grown up with music. Despite the homeschooled status, he'd even liked his fair share of music, and the whole thing was pretty interesting. His love of music had only more recently resurfaced. He'd started to sketchily listen to more, and he'd even found the nerve to write a few lyrics of his own mind on the palm of his hand.
So with an insecure little action, he tugged at his shirt and just smiled and thought about it for a second. Improv a song? Was that even possible? He presumed it was. So he did so. Improvisation would be something simple enough... But he didn't have enough pent up emotion to do something... deep. Every thing that usually came to mind wasn't emotional... At all. Mostly because he was a little bit of the person who'd never had experiences that would make for him to have emotions about anything. Sure, he was emotional and all that, but really. He was socially awkward. He wasn't going to write long, elaborate songs about things. And he didn't have the attention span for those things... Shaking his head, he finally just sucked it up and started to pick up on a note. It wasn't the best note, and the voice that came out of his throat wasn't called "classic" by any means. It wasn't the choir type of pretty, but it was even and the type of thing that a lot of people would consider... Unique. And perceptive. And it was said by Kurt Cobain that anybody with emotion could sing, and that seemed to ring true. If he was feeling a little bit pitiful, that was indeed emotion. [/blockquote][/justify] • • • • • • •[/color] W O R D S 846
W E A R I N G CLICK
N O T E S I don't even know. He's weird.
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Post by Emilia Ventura on Jan 17, 2012 20:43:44 GMT -5
 -----------------------------------TELL ME, DID THE WIND SWEEP YOU OFF YOUR FEET
did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day
[/size][/i] AND HEAD BACK TOWARD THE MILKY WAY
----------------------------------[/size] [/center][/font]
Any other day, Emmie would be sleeping. It was still somewhat early, probably around noon, and that was definitely too early. Yet she found herself unable to lay in bed any longer. Finally, she forced herself out of her warm bed. Glancing around, she realized she was probably right about the time. There was absolutely no one in the large cabin. After picking out a simple outfit, Emmie made her way to the showers. She hummed a song--she couldn't remember what--and was out of the shower as quickly as she got in.
Back in the cabin, Emmie brushed her hair and placed a white knit hat on her head. It was really just for accessory; the girl couldn't go anywhere without the perfect hair. Her outfit, she could care less. But Emmie was pretty obsessed about her hair...and she loved hats. If she could, she'd buy all the hats in the world--too bad she wouldn't have enough time to wear them. Her head hurt just thinking about how many there were...
Pushing herself to her feet, Emmie began to walk down a path, letting her feet lead. She didn't care where she went. Emmie was sure she had some sort of chore or something to do, but at the moment, she could care less. Why would she have to do that, when it was such a beautiful wintery day? The sun warmed her face, even though the air around her was cold. She enjoyed the contrast. A childish laugh came from behind her, and she turned. Two younger campers, probably twelve or possibly younger, were playing together. Emmie grinned, finding them quite adorable. She was sure they'd make the perfect couple--'Emmie, stop it! You're no matchmaker.' She told herself, giggling. Ah, how she loved to laugh. And think; that was especially calming.
Her eyes slid back to the ground, watching as her brown boot-clad feet kicked up dust. She actually began to hum, once again not knowing the name of the song. So often this happened, Emmie had given up on trying to remember them. Usually they sounded the same, so she figured it was one particular band that kept slipping her mind. Oh well; she was already pretty forgetful.
Her mind began to drift towards home. Not her New York City home, the one back in Italy. She could barely remember it anymore, and she felt as though even the language was slipping away from her. It was such a terrible feeling, but Emmie promised herself she wouldn't let go of either. Honestly, she wanted to go back one day. She loved how close everyone was, how friendly her little town had been--unfortunately, Emmie hadn't visited in over four years. She sighed, figuring being in Camp Half-Blood was for the best. Apparently being away from here, as a demigod, was dangerous. But Emmie hadn't had any trouble before.
It was then, at that particular thought, a voice interrupted Emmie's train of thought. It definitely wasn't someone talking. It sounded like singing. A curious smile spread across the girl's face, and she became determined to find the singer. Increasing her pace to a soft jog, Emmie was at the strawberry fields in less than a minute. Peering around a tree, she discovered person singing was... She had to think for a moment; the name was just at the tip of her tongue.
Henri! That was his name. Son of Aphrodite, she remembered that two. The two had spoken a couple times before, of that Emmie was sure. She remembered his face and the way he walked. It was little things Emmie found herself noticing most. Not wanting to interrupt him, she stayed back, but still within a good hearing and talking range. She definitely wanted to talk to him when he was finished with whatever song he was singing. What song was it, anyways? She definitely didn't recognize it. Emmie plopped to the ground, placing her chin in her hands as she listened to Henri sing.
TAGGED: henri/lissa! c:
OUTFIT: idek. she's nekkid, brah.
WORDS: 675
NOTES: lol. um, so she's a creepy listener, and she's sort of all over the place. she might be on drugs. she's not, but there's no other explanation
LYRICS: drops of jupiter by train.
CREDIT: mrs. robert downey jr of cv2
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Post by Henri Klemmensen on Jan 17, 2012 22:10:18 GMT -5
• • • • • • •[/color] ( [/color] it never is, i tell myself i can take this)[/color] WAITING FOR SOMETHING I COULD NEVER FIND
TO COME KNOCKING DOWN MY DOOR
BUT WAITING'S SUCH A WASTE OF TIME
[/color][/center] There were very few things in the world that irritated Henri. One of them were stereotypes and the other was never being taken seriously. Mostly because of the said stereotypes, but at the same time just because he was generally outrageous and all that. Sure, he wasn't an idiot who jumped off of buildings but he wasn't the type of person who would sit down and have casual conversations in bow ties and tophats about the molecular structure of the carbon atom. Or something. He didn't know much about what people with actual lives and who were the type of people who actually owned tophats did. Were they Ryan Ross? Were they? But in all generalization, the stereotyping and not being seriously taken was irritating to him. Sure, being poked fun of wasn't horrible, but when he was intentionally rationalized and purposefully tricked into doing things, he wanted to say that he wasn't an idiot and he did know what was going on... Vaguely. But still, his naivety was not to be tussled with. Because dammit, that naive behavior was going to get him somewhere in life, he thought. If he was going to be called clueless, he would regard it as something that was a simple fact and would go on with his life. Quietly, but he would and it'd be just hunky-dory.
Which is why he stopped singing for a second, pondering why he was even out here. It was cold, he was alone and he didn't even know what he was doing. Turning around a little bit, he caught out of the corner of his eye... Somebody. A girl. Oh, great. He'd probably been off-key and she'd of been laughing hysterically. In fact, he was so sure of this fact that he sighed, nodded a singular nod, with his awkward facial expression pretty much expressing embarrassment. It was a simple fact that he got embarrassed pretty easily. He was probably singing off-key in a strawberry field and all while he was standing there alone. He had a right to have his cheeks flush pink, and it was pretty embarrasing to be even caught singing... Sighing, he looked at his shoes and turned around more, looking at the girl with an awkward smile.
Oh, it wasn't just some random person. It was this one girl he'd had a conversation with earlier in the week. Emmie, he thought. Was that her name? Was that how she said it? He thought that was it.... He would recognize the dark hair and round features anywhere... Or at least he thought. Henri remembered she was one of the daughters of some god that wasn't in the highest of ranks... Was it Hypnos? He pondered this for a second before deciding on the fact that she was probably the daughter of Hypnos, because she wasn't scary-weird like one of Hecate's kids or something. And she seemed like somebody who would fit the description of Hypnos. But while the person wasn't somebody he was terribly close to, he still felt a little bit embarrassed by the fact that you know... He was pretty much singing without anybody really caring, perhaps, but it was still something to be a little bit taken back by. With an awkward smile on his face, Henri smile "Yeah, I think I'm a little off key... I mean... Yeah. I was off-key. I'm 90% sure. I think. I'm sorry. I must have hurt your ear drums. Yeah. Sorry..." He said, taking a few steps closer so he could hold some conversational manner and not appear to be some socially insane person. Shifting on his heels awkwardly, he nodded.
"And why were you watching anyway?" He asked, naive to answers or anything. He wasn't being mean, it was more of a pondering question, one that could be interpreted in a few different ways. Of course, it could be taken in the way that he didn't want to look people in the eyes, but at the same time it could be interpreted in the way that he was acting like a stereotypical Aphrodite kid. Everybody assumed they were airheads and spacey, and this behavior could indeed be interpreted as so. He could be seen as stupid, if people really wanted to take it that way, just because of the way he had asked the question to the air, and not directly. "But yeah. I'm not very good and sorry about that eardrum torture... Unless I've said that before... If so, I'm terribly sorry...." He shifted on his shoes again, wondering why he was being so skittish. Oh yeah, that's right, he was acting like a total idiot in a strawberry field. Explanation. Game, set, match. His strange behavior was an aftershock of his choice to take a risk. Oh, did he love that. [/blockquote][/justify] • • • • • • •[/color] W O R D S 801
W E A R I N G CLICK.
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Post by Emilia Ventura on Jan 18, 2012 17:20:48 GMT -5
-----------------------------------TELL ME, DID THE WIND SWEEP YOU OFF YOUR FEET
did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day
[/size][/i] AND HEAD BACK TOWARD THE MILKY WAY
----------------------------------[/size] [/center][/font]
One thing Emmie missed was music. In the moment her mother rushed her out of the house to get to Camp Half-Blood, she'd forgotten her mp3 player. It hadn't occurred to her she could probably get it back or borrow someone else's, but that's a different story. Simply put, she missed the sound of people singing. Henri was far from being the best, but she really appreciated his voice. Gosh, it was so hard for her to even explain to herself why she was here. It was kind of creepy, wasn't it? Here Emmie was, sitting on the ground, watching someone sing--and they had no idea. Emmie herself wouldn't mind, but she didn't know this boy enough to know if he did.
Emmie found herself daydreaming about being back in her room--the one she shared with no one, overlooking New York City. Putting her stereo on full-blast would be perfect right now. She imagined herself dancing along to the music in a warm sweater and fuzzy hat, then tripping and laughing to herself. Such freedom--something she wished she still had. Sure, she was basically independent now, but she couldn't even leave the camp without permission. At least, that's how Emmie thought it worked. That's another thing--Emmie always seemed to be out of the loop, never knowing anything. No one seemed to care about the child of a minor god. Well, it wasn't something she could change, and she wasn't going to dwell on the thought.
Just as Emmie had begun to think about her room again, Henri turned around. Startled, she blinked. He wasn't going to shout at her, was he? She quickly realized he wasn't, and jumped to her feet. With a kind smile, Emmie strode towards Henri, leaving just a couple feet of space between them. At least she had a vague idea of personal space. Emmie giggled and shook her head as he stumbled over his words, trying to apologize. But for what? He certainly didn't have a reason to; he'd done nothing wrong...right? "Why're you apologizing?" She asked, voicing her thoughts.
Emmie lifted a hand and adjusted her hat. She found herself getting nervous as she attempted to explain herself. Her hands were clasped together behind her back and she rocked on her heels before answering his question. Why was Emmie here anyways? Well...she was walking...and then what?
"I...I was taking a walk when I heard you singing. And it sounded really pretty, so I wanted to see who it was, y'know? Wouldn't you do the same thing?" Emmie told him. "So of course I sat right down and listened. Sorry if that make you uncomfortable! I didn't really think about that..."
Then she grinned, rather suddenly. "Oh, please sing again! I really enjoyed it. Please, Henri? For me?" She pouted, knowing her words probably wouldn't do much. But she so desperately hoped he would sing again. And it would be just amazing if he actually did, and when she asked. Sing sing sing sing sing, Emmie actually started chanting in her mind. Okay Emmie, calm down--he might not sing, and you don't want to get your hopes up.
TAGGED: henri/lissa! c:
OUTFIT: --
WORDS: 534 D:
NOTES: um, i'm having trouble figuring out if there's something wrong with emmie's mind.
LYRICS: drops of jupiter by train.
CREDIT: mrs. robert downey jr of cv2
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Post by Henri Klemmensen on Jan 18, 2012 19:13:56 GMT -5
• • • • • • •[/color] ( [/color] it never is, i tell myself i can take this)[/color] WAITING FOR SOMETHING I COULD NEVER FIND
TO COME KNOCKING DOWN MY DOOR
BUT WAITING'S SUCH A WASTE OF TIME
[/color][/center] Well, it hadn't occurred to Henri really that he was probably damaging the strawberry plants. Sighing, he looked at his shoes. Well, he liked food, didn't he? And he wasn't going to damage the very items of strawberries that usually made him a strawberry smoothie when he was at home, would he? Or when he has been at home. His Father, the very person who'd fallen for some goddess (like, literally) when he was in college and about a year later ended up with a small child on his lap... Yeah, it wasn't the best ideal situation. But his father had become pratical once he moved into the cabin in the middle of the mountains, and had somehow gotten a strawberry patch to grow there. It had been a neat little strawberry patch, in which he attended to its needs every single morning and then during the summer months would go outside and slave over it, clipping the small strawberries from the green leaves and with a brisk hand, had dropped them into a basket. And once Henri had been old enough to, he'd gone out and assisted his father. The whole thing was so very odd, and so composed and poised that the memory felt like all the pieces weren't in their place. Everything had been so simple. And it was probably the most simple fantasy that some would come up with, but it'd actually happened. Simpler times with less on someones mind. He quickly stepped off of the strawberries, standing on the rows apposed to the actual plants. Because it was ruining that and thus, ruining childhood memories. Or at least in his mind...
"Why're you apologizing? The word hung in the air for a second before Henri clenched his teeth together and tried to think of a way to say something without sounding like he was being demeaning. Because he hated making himself feel bad about stuff... He really didn't like doing that because it was negative, and when you were negative, you usually made other people feel bad about stuff and that was against Henri's moral and all that. He sighed and looked around, before finally saying quietly "I have issues with my voice, I guess. I don't like it, perhaps?" He said, wondering if that was something that sounded self-respecting enough... Or positive enough. Perhaps. Perhaps. He nodded, assuring himself that that was indeed the right thing to say when it came to a situation as this one was. With a reluctant smile, he continued on "Yep. That's why. And also because I know it's probably off-key and it's that the fact that I'm standing in a strawberry patch like the moron I am." Oh, god. Negativity. Don't let that go into your speech he thought, Negativity makes everything go downhill..." And he was going to ramble people to death and he just nodded.
"I...I was taking a walk when I heard you singing. And it sounded really pretty, so I wanted to see who it was, y'know? Wouldn't you do the same thing?" He pondered this for a second, wondering if he would. He probably would've done it, mostly because of the curiosity that killed the cat theory that he usually used. Because honestly, Henri was one of the most curious people in the world. He always thought that if you delved deeper into something, it'd make more sense, be more rational and much more understanding. Kind of like people. He felt like he looked farther into how his Mother acted, maybe he could understand why she acted so... outrageous, almost? She was Aphroditie. Obviously, she had her reasons for rebelling and doing things, but Henri wondered why in the hell he had such abandonment issues. Twiddling his thumbs, he finally just decided to suck it up and just say something along the lines of "I understand." "Oh, it's fine. I just don't like my voice and I'm like.... really not happy with it. I must have been off-key or something and all that. But yeah. I'm weird. Dunno." "So of course I sat right now and listened. Sorry if that make you uncomfortable! I didn't really think about that..." Which Henri thought about for a second. It really wasn't uncomfortable as he made it out to be. He'd kind of exaggerated the whole thing and made it into something in which he was being stingy and mean and all that. He thought about it before blinking and smiling "Yeah, it's not that big of a deal that you listened, I guess. I just thought I was horrible or something."
The cold air stung his cheeks and then was followed by words that his ears registered "Oh, please sing again! I really enjoyed it. Please, Henri? For me?" With reluctance, he finally just sighed. He could, he assumed... To make people happy? He guessed? Maybe... Nodding, he smiled at Emmie and returned to two feet after shifting uncomfortably. "....Well, I assume." before resuming the little tune. And while it wasn't horrid, it wasn't awkward as before. Oh whatever it may have been.
[/blockquote][/justify] • • • • • • •[/color] W O R D S 846
W E A R I N G CLICK.
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Post by Emilia Ventura on Jan 21, 2012 12:09:18 GMT -5
-----------------------------------TELL ME, DID THE WIND SWEEP YOU OFF YOUR FEET
did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day
[/size][/i] AND HEAD BACK TOWARD THE MILKY WAY
----------------------------------[/size] [/center][/font]
"Oh, it's fine. I just don't like my voice and I'm like.... really not happy with it. I must have been off-key or something and all that. But yeah. I'm weird. Dunno."
Emmie put a hand over her mouth and giggled. She found hilarious that he kept saying he "must have been" off-key when he obviously wasn't. He wasn't very optimistic, was he? Certainly not like Emmie. Honesly, she found that...oh, what's the word? Cute? Maybe. "Gosh, stop saying that! Your voice is fine, alright? So, uh...stop saying you're...off-key." She said, shaking her head.
There wasn't a lot of things in the world that Emmie didn't like. Swimming was a big no-no. Spiders made her freeze or scream, like most girls would do. But negativity? That was the worst. She didn't like when people said they weren't good at something, especially when she thought they were. But it was kind of inevitable for humans to think that way. Even Emmie did it sometimes, as much as she tried not to. It was...it was like a world-wide disease, she supposed. Maybe that wasn't right. Instinct maybe? Some people didn't have that instinct to think negative, and oh goodness--just what was she thinking about now? I make no sense! Emmie whined to herself.
"....Well, I assume."
Emmie clapped her hands over her mouth and grinned. Quite a girly thing to do, wasn't it? Well, she was absolutely delighted that Henri was actually going to sing again, and for her! And just the thought of him doing that brought her to the past. Her best friend's brother, to whom she actually had a close relationship with, never would have agreed to singing if she'd ask. He was a great singer; the lead of a band, actually. But when she'd asked, he always said things like "I'm not here for your entertainment, Emilia" or "Go listen to your own music." But whatever he said, he always used her full name--and that was another think she disliked. Her friends calling her by her formal name. Pushing away her thoughts again, Emmie grinned. Henri had started to sing again, and it was simply...delightful. She was really enjoying that word today. Perhaps she would try to use a new word every day, as much as she could. So today's word was...delightful. I'm sure thinking...randomly today. She told herself, silently snickering. Usually her mind wasn't this...active.
Emmie looked up at Henri. He was singing, and he actually seemed somewhat comfortable doing so. It was different from how he'd been acting a moment ago. She thought he had seemed...a bit nervous, if anything. His voice, Emmie thought, was kind of soothing. Why did she think that? It was probably impossible for Emmie to say why. Explaining things was one of the hardest things for Emmie to do. So she didn't even try anymore.
Once he'd stopped, Emmie grinned. She strode over to him and hugged him. But once she realized what she done--hugged someone she didn't even know that well--Emmie stepped backwards and bit her lip rather nervously. "Um...sorry, I just...I don't know. Thanks for singing, I really...enjoyed it." Emmie told him, her cheeks burning.
"Do you sing a lot?" Emmie asked him, trying to put the attention back on Henri, not her randomly hugging him.
TAGGED: henri/lissa! c:
OUTFIT: --
WORDS: five sixty eight.
NOTES: Hope it was okay to assume he stopped. I didn't know how to keep Emmie going without interrupting him. xDD
LYRICS: drops of jupiter by train.
CREDIT: mrs. robert downey jr of cv2
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Post by Henri Klemmensen on Jan 21, 2012 22:34:07 GMT -5
[shadow=gray,left,300]• • • • • • •[/shadow][/color] ( [/color] it never is, i tell myself i can take this)[/color] WAITING FOR SOMETHING I COULD NEVER FIND
TO COME KNOCKING DOWN MY DOOR
BUT WAITING'S SUCH A WASTE OF TIME
[/color][/center] Sure, the world wasn't perfect. Henri knew that. In a perfect world, he'd probably be in Colorado still, most likely actually going to a school in which he was able to live in quiet. His step-mother would be his real mother, his father wouldn't of been such a big coward and obviously, he'd be home with his sister, who, while annoying and somewhat of a moron, was one of the best friends that Henri could have had growing up. All in all, the perfect world did not exist, as he was seventeen years old, in a camp with a mother who had talked to him... What, twice or three times in his life? And probably viewed him as a failure. In fact, most of the people in the world who knew that he was the son of the goddess of love probably viewed him as a failure. First off, you could say that Henri didn't know the first thing about sex. Yeah, that was pretty much the primary failure. Sure, he had some traits of an Aphrodite kid. Like his hopeless romantic approach to everything, or y'know. But still. Every single thing that he did probably did disappoint somebody in some point in time and made something agitated. It wasn't the finest life you could orchestrate, that was for sure. At least he wasn't like... straight up dumb. While he wasn't the brightest candle on the table, or the sharpest knife in the drawer, he was more naive than lacking of wits. If you were to give him a scale of intelligence and have him rated overall, he'd probably be a B-. Just above average, right where it was a good way to think.
Which was exactly why when he stopped singing, he wondered why he was even doing things like that at that second in the day. Pondering it for a good amount of time, he closed his eyes and finally just decided that the words that had come out of his mind were kind of obscure. He had a pretty good vocabulary, he had to admit that. Somehow, he was fairly good at figuring out how to make words fit together into sentences and memorizing words until their meanings were engraved into his mind. It was probably one of the benefits of being homeschooled as a child. He had more time for independent ideas, and using more memorizing than just having something be garbage in- garbage out. The information he learned had been worth it int he long run. To put it simply, it was a talent that a lot of people would probably think of being ridiculous and frivolous, but it was something he enjoyed immensely... Just because he could. And if you were like him, and felt you were good at something, you'd be a proud childlike citizen of the world if you found you were talented at something. It was the simple reality that he lived in. When talent struck you on the door, you admitted you had it. And it made him... Happy to feel like someone else thought he was talented at something that wasn't putting words into puzzle-piece like fashion.
And it was really weird when somebody up and just hugged him. It wasn't like he wasn't a physical contact person and was against people touching him in any way, he wasn't cold and icy like that could be considered, but he just wasn't used to being... Touched, he assumed. Most people just thought he was a strange creature and all but avoided him. Sure, sometime's he'd get a pat on the back from the cabin head or someone would make a joke and throw their arm around his shoulder, but rarely would anybody all out hug him. And honestly.... It wasn't horrible. Like, it was actually pretty nice. It was cold outside, naturally, because it was December and cold. And it made him warmer, he presumed. He hadn't had the forethought to actually zip up his jacket, and thus made him colder than usual. You know. Typical, ignorant little Henri and his typical ignorant little things that he forgot to do. Always.
Which was why when he heard a compliment, he just smiled like an idiot. "Um...sorry, I just...I don't know. Thanks for singing, I really...enjoyed it." With a quirky smile, he looked at his shoes and pressed his lips together. It was something that... He just grinned his little heart out, before promptly replying with a childlike expression something or another. "Oh... Thanks. I guess I've never heard that before. Well, I feel special now. I mean, not in the way that I've never felt special before, it's just now I feel like it's a really really big accomplishment that somebody actually likes something that I like... Or I phrased that wrong. That somebody thinks that I can do something well that I didn't think I could do well? Better way, I think..."
And that was when Henri just sat there with an inquisitive thought and looked at his shoes again. He did indeed like singing... "Yeah, I sometimes do. Mostly in the shower. Otherwise, not really. To myself. But mostly in the shower." [/blockquote][/justify] • • • • • • •[/color] W O R D S 800?
W E A R I N G CLICK
N O T E S I don't even know. He's weird.
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Post by Emilia Ventura on Jan 22, 2012 19:17:26 GMT -5
-----------------------------------TELL ME, DID THE WIND SWEEP YOU OFF YOUR FEET
did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day
[/size][/i] AND HEAD BACK TOWARD THE MILKY WAY
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Emmie grinned in relief. He hadn't freaked out when she hugged him; she had hugged a stranger randomly one time and that didn't turn out well... Any way, she was just glad Henri didn't seem put off by that. Emmie, simply put, was a hugger. Her normal greeting was a hug, whether that person was male or female, young or old. Handshakes were so formal, and a simple greeting wasn't enough. Though, she hadn't hugged Henri as a greeting, had she? Nope, it was a...a thank you. Actions spoke louder than words, anyways. Her mother had always told her that. One time, she'd made Emmie bake cookies for a young girl that Emmie had upset. That action was better than saying thank you. And that girl had become her best friend; too bad she was back in Italy.
She couldn't help it; she giggled again as Henri kept elaborating on how he 'felt special'. Sometimes Emmie thought she might actually laugh, or giggle, too much. But then she remembered all the sayings she lived by; sayings like laughter is the best medicine and a day without laughter is a day waster. Because laughing made people happy and brought them together, right? That's what Emmie had observed in her sixteen years of life, anyways. "I'm glad I made you feel special!" She told him, her eyes showing a teasing glint.
"Yeah, I sometimes do. Mostly in the shower. Otherwise, not really. To myself. But mostly in the shower."
With a light smile, Emmie nodded. She did that too, didn't she? Not all the time, but she enjoyed quietly singing to herself, especially with music in the background. Sometimes she even imagined herself standing on a stage, singing to a crowd of people. That would be a wonderful experience, though it was no way related to singing in the shower. Despite that wish, Emmie didn't actually want to be a singer, or in a band. Honestly? She didn't even want to work. That might seem lazy, but she wanted to be a...a stay-home mother, the one who stayed home and loved their kids. Obviously. And if not, something artistic would do. She'd die if she had to sit in one of those...cubicles, were they called?
Rather randomly, Emmie dropped to the ground, adjusting herself so she was sitting cross legged. Lightly, she traced swirls into the rather sandy (though maybe crumbly or broken was a better adjective, Emmie thought) dirt. "I sing in the shower, too. I like the way my voice echoes." She said absent-mindlessly; Emmie was actually thinking about something else. Or rather, how to say it.
"Why do you keep trying to...to explain yourself?" Emmie asked him, glancing up at Henri. "It's not like anyone's going to think you're weird for saying something. Actually, you know what, that's actually possible. But I bet people think I'm weird for some of the things I say. It doesn't matter though, really..." Emmie started to trail off, realizing she really wasn't making sense. Not only that, but she'd basically criticized him. Emmie smiled uneasily; she felt rather bad for saying that. What if he took it the wrong way? She hoped he didn't; she didn't mean any harm. Emmie couldn't hurt anyone, really. Maybe that's why she couldn't aim a simple arrow. Maybe her subconscious didn't want Emmie to be able to, because then she could hurt someone. She didn't know. It was her subconscious, for goodness sakes. Who knew what crazy things went on up there? No one could see what went on in their subconscious, right? That was something she wanted to look up. Maybe she should look up subconscious too; she probably was using it the wrong way. Emmie used a lot of words the wrong way. Just the other day, she thought "aristocrat" was those cats from that one movie. Then she'd learned the movie was called Aristocats and an aristocrat was some sort of government official. A member of aristocracy, whatever that was. It was also 'something believed to be the best of its kind', directly from the dictionary. The dictionary might as well be her best friend, from how much she had to use it.
TAGGED: henri/lissa! c:
OUTFIT: --
WORDS: seven hundred five
NOTES: I have nothing to put hurrr.
LYRICS: drops of jupiter by train.
CREDIT: mrs. robert downey jr of cv2
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Post by Henri Klemmensen on Jan 22, 2012 21:20:47 GMT -5
[shadow=gray,left,300]• • • • • • •[/shadow][/color] ( [/color] it never is, i tell myself i can take this)[/color] WAITING FOR SOMETHING I COULD NEVER FIND
TO COME KNOCKING DOWN MY DOOR
BUT WAITING'S SUCH A WASTE OF TIME
[/color][/center] Hopeless. It was a word that had been described to Henri. Hopeless at grasping the concepts of algebra, hopeless when it came to little things that most people could do by themselves, a hopeless romantic, hopeless at small things. The word hung on his tongue every time he heard it and brought back little things he'd remembered people saying about him. Sure, his family was really nice and all that... But even then, when Henri was a small child and slipped up, his scientist of a father... Yes, his Father. A scientist. Who, in the full story of his life, had basically gone to some Ivy League to get a degree in something that was known as Molecular Biology. The year before he graduated, he took a trip to England. And then, somehow, he'd ended up with Henri.... Which basically made the whole thing even more topple-the-world worthy. In fact, his father was just totally freaked out. Almost to the point of agitation, but no, not James Klemmensen. No, never. He'd picked himself up, denied everything to his parents and said that... He'd adopted Henri. And then married a high school friend and lived in a cabin in the middle of the mountains. Just like the Panic at the disco song, yes. Except for the fact that it wasn't a bunch of guys in their twenties... And it was permanent. But by the time that Henri had gotten to age... Seven, he'd had the basic idea that his biological Mother had died in a car crash and basically had nothing left. All in all, his father, despite mistakes he had made, had pulled himself together in a pretty good way. He seemed to be one of the more collected people and always was on his toes. And while he sometimes had been disappointed with his son and his little childish antics (like, really. He worked with atoms that were found in a pine tree. He couldn't be that odd, but he kind of was.) he'd just shoot him the "Stop being hopeless at helping, Henri. I love you, but go outside and play. We don't pay a mortgage on a quarter of a mile of land just so you can lurk over my work." In which Henri would then scamper off and just sit there, wondering why that word had been used to describe him once again.
"I'm glad I made you feel special! Henri smiled. Well, that was something that made him feel... Even more special? Well, he wasn't quite sure if that was even a term that could be interpreted as something else. Was being more special than something else possible unless you were like... Henri really didn't know. He was spacing out and that could never be the best thing that he could think about. He didn't even know. Which was why he just stood there in a quiet little awkward silence, something that he was the master of. Like, seriously. He could hold an awkward silence to a higher standard than if there were parental issues between gods and their children. Like the sad, pathetic little sigh that a lot of the time he got from his Mother just because you know, he was Henri. It was obviously something that he brought with him everywhere he went. Because awkward silences made the best of ideas and all that. Well, to some people, they probably thought that Henri lived off of them. I mean, really. A lot of the time, people told him that he must live and breathe off of awkward silences because he created them so often. Not on purpose, mind you. Henri just equaled awkward human being, and awkward human beings equaled awkward silences. It was simple math that wasn't always ready to be comprehended and all that, but it was there.
So when he looked up from his awkward little haze of wondering why in the world caterpillars didn't just turn themselves into butterflies and why they needed a metamorphosis. He had pondered this for a while, and until he heard the voice of Emmie yet again, probably trying to break the awkward silence that flitted in the air between the two. "I sing in the shower, too. I like the way my voice echoes." In which he took into consideration. "And echoing always makes something sound more... deep. I guess? It always adds drama and really interesting elements to a sound, and that's always something that everybody wants when they sing...." He trailed off, wondering why he wasn't yammering off about nothing like he usually did. Probably because his nonresistant sentences were never composed to make sense, unless he was putting too much effort into his words, in which then he'd sound like his father. Or something.
Why do you keep trying to...to explain yourself? It's not like anyone's going to think you're weird for saying something. Actually, you know what, that's actually possible. But I bet people think I'm weird for some of the things I say. It doesn't matter though, really." In which Henri had to think about for a second. It was honestly one of those things that you did have to think about. And he did for a good few seconds, before trying to answer it with some witty tongue in cheek thing that he knew his cabin-mates were supposed to say. And while he was never good at those things, he tried to think of some way to sound at least more sophisticated because he was trying to do that so he wouldn't need to be infiltrated by his Mother and complained about among the cabin because he was "So. Freaking. Weird." In which he replied with the most genuine answer he could muster "Well, if you think about it... I don't fit in well enough, so if I feel I said something wrong, I have to back it up or whatever. I guess it's just a defense instinct from myself saying stupid things..." [/blockquote][/justify] • • • • • • •[/color] W O R D S 800?
W E A R I N G CLICK
N O T E S I don't even know. He's weird.
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