Post by SEVEN on Jan 8, 2013 13:26:54 GMT -6
| [atrb=width, 50%][atrb=border, 0, true][atrb=cellspacing, 0, true][atrb=cellpadding, 0, true][atrb=width, 400px, btable][atrb=align, center, btable][atrb=style, background: #36393b; padding: 60px 20px 0 20px; border-bottom: 10px solid #45484b;] |
| [atrb=style, background: #f6f6f6; border-bottom: 10px white solid;][classy=posting]To say Seven is nervous would be an understatement--in all honesty, he's either on the verge of breaking down or on the verge of, well, something that he won't really be proud of. Though more often than not he's got the mindset of an adult, talking about things like the economy and political decay without a skipped beat, in the end he's still a child; besides all that, he's a child who didn't have a childhood. He stares at his screen and the words Dawn typed: it's a date, she said, and how the hell is Seven supposed to react to that? Do people do that? Is it normal to have dates with someone you met on the Internet? Is it normal to receive dates after doing nothing but whine about technology? He pulls at his hair a little and hates himself quietly. He lets out a soft exhalation, though, and tells himself to relax. He's spoken to people before, made appointments and appeared there on the dot without much effort, and so there can't really be anything too bad about this one. So what if Dawn apparently saw it as a date? Seven wasn't interested in her romantically, and hence impressing her wasn't a big priority of his. At least, not impressing her in the sense that he'd make a good boyfriend-- --Christ, just thinking the word 'boyfriend' has shivers crawling up his spine. He tries to see himself giving large, heart-shaped chocolates or bouquets of flowers, and automatically regrets even allowing himself to stoop to such lows. He fiddles with his bangs, and then heads towards his cabinet to pull out some clothes. Typically, people don't go out in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles-print pajama pants and oversized Superman t-shirts. Pulling the latter over his head and replacing it with a typical, plain button-down, Seven reaches for a pair of jeans and replaces his pajamas with those. Then he pulls on socks, slips his feet into a pair of sneakers without tying the laces, and runs his fingers through his hair once. He considers bringing a notepad with him, but decides not to. Instead, he detaches his keyboard (after much effort; it took quite a bit for Seven to determine how to pull the cord out of his CPU without breaking it) and tucks it neatly under his arm. Shoving his wallet into his pocket, he sighs and steps out of the house towards the lake. He was the one who suggested it, so he should be blaming himself for the long walk, but instead Seven decides to quietly hate the natural occurrence that is location. It takes a couple of minutes before he finally gets there, and Seven stands with his free hand in his pocket and his keyboard still wedged between his torso and his arm. Green eyes watching the surface of the lake, which is oddly still, he supposes, for being such an important part of the population, he counts in his head, awaiting the appearance of the mystery girl. He realizes he probably should've asked for a picture of her--a one-hundred by one-hundred pixel icon doesn't really work for the imagination, does it?--but then takes consolation in the fact that he can probably deduce who she is, instead. it's what he does best, after all. The walking is done, and now his sneakers are slowly sinking into the sand. Seven, however, doesn't move; if he stays still enough, there's no proof that he truly exists, and nothing is better than that. Or, at least, that's what the Family says, and as far as Seven's concerned, they're always right. for dawn • some words • all the pretty girls - fun. [/style]oh boy i don't know what i've posted khsdjsdf i'm so tired i'm sorry by rinne of gangnam style. |
