[ t r a p p e d ] orphange, powers r.p. -- closed

[light.]

[we can start c: but zoker, I need your character to belong to the orphans, since there aren't any resistance slots left]

[Zoker]

[ok I will edit the form ]

[passion.]

Great! We're starting. But I have to go. I'll make my first post tomorrow!

[astrocompass]

Should we wait for Danger to start or has she given us free reign to begin without her?

[light.]

[yes, you can start. I'll try to post today or tomorrow]

[Yuki.]

There Grace laid, kept from the world on her bed. The sheets were ripped and smelled of death. It bothered her even though she was used to it. Her room was simple and any average person would die if they spent the amount of time she does in it. A simple bed rested in the corner, a plain redwood dresser beside it and a door leading to a toilet was on the left wall. Grace was 17, but yet acted like a child. She pulled her dresser out and slammed it to the ground. She pulled out a small knife from her sock. She had stolen it from the dinner table, and almost got caught. In front of her eyes lays a medium size hole big enough for someone her size to fit through. She had been working on it for months; she couldn't stay in this place, not any longer.

She crawled through, knowing that on the other side was the hallway that led to the exit. The walls were thick, which made Grace curious why. She knew that there were others, she would see one every now and then, but did they have powers to? What use to the owners to have someone who could talk to the dead? Thats not even a power, but more like a curse. Grace raised an arm and dug it into the wall, clipping out a small piece of the wall.

"Grace"

The name echoed through her head. It was almost like a hiss that sent a chill down your spine. But deep inside the voice was soft and peaceful.

"Someones coming! They are at the door. You won't make it out!"

The hiss came again, but yet still the same.


Grace cursed then crawled out right when the door slammed open. A tall broad man came in, angry enough to kill someone. He said no words, but just stared at what laid in front of him. He walked over to her, each step pounded on the ground. His fist held her hair tight, dragging her away from the corner. He pounded his fist against her face, ignoring her screams of pain. He continued to punch her until blood stained his knuckles. He looked down on her with a devilish smile, then left the scene.

Grace laid on the ground, her arms crossed her chest. Her nose was broken and covered her face with blood. Tears fell down her cheeks, washing away some blood. This is why she wanted to escape. This is why she spends her days in her room. This is why Grace is Grace.

{Ill add a pic next post}

[light.]

{Do you know what's worth fighting for? Do you know what's worth dying for?
- Green Day}

|{Daenerys Black}|

··Mood··
Calm
··Where··
Room
··With··
Alone

Every shadow was different from the ones around it, but still, they were all beautiful and marvellous. They moved in the corners of the bedroom, on the ceiling, following an enchanted rhytm, a magical dance, where only them knew how to dance. The rythm was. by the trees outside the window, moving against the sunlight with the cold morning breeze. The room was quiet and peacefull, nothing bothered the shadows, no hint of direct sunlight yet, storming throught the windows, making the shadows flee.
Daenerys lay asleep between the sheets of her bed, in the room, where the shadows didn't hunt her, they were her friends, playing around her face and her body. One of her arms was out of the bed, hanging from the bed, and one leg was out of the sheets, but she smiled peacefully in the middle of the messy chaos of her bedroom, where everything was around the floor, thrown on a chair, out of the wardrobe...But Daenerys wasn't in the mood for cleaning all her room, what made the mess be more messy each day, with more clothes, more papers, ect.
The first sunlight came into her room, finding her face looking straight at the window, and the ember beam reflected on her face, finding it's way through the shadows of the morning, but the light was always there. Daenerys smile faded as she realised the light pointing at her, and opened her eyes, lazy. Why couldn't the light wait a few more minutes, maybe a few more hours of darkness each day, to sleep and have fun during the night? Even if that was impossible, the thought made her smile appear again in the light, and step out of the bed slowly, stretching her arms around her, looking out of the window, where the sun was rising from the horizont, filled with trees of deep green. Maybe the only thing she liked about the orphange was that, being alone, in touch with the nature, the trees, the lake and the animals, the soft essence of fresh flowers coming through her window.Dany stood up, and yawned while she closed her eyes, coming inside the bathroom to have a shower.

[passion.]

м o o d Content
a c т ι o n Just waking up
r e l a т ι o n ѕ н ι p Single
c l o т н e ѕ this

Shay woke up to the rasping lick of her black kitten, Tilly, on her cheek. She opened her eyes to meet a squeaking meow. Shay laughed and swooped her kitten into the air. Tilly let out a startled mewl and started to squirm. Shay gently set her down on the ground.
"You're feisty today, tiger!" she laughed, rubbing Tilly's back. Tilly purred and scampered away into the cluttered house. Shay sighed and swung herself out of bed. She strolled over to the window and flung the curtains aside.
"Ah! Such a beautiful day!" she said bubbly, talking to herself mostly. She smiled and made her way into the bathroom. After inspecting her bed-head hair, she decided to take a shower. After the steaming hot water and a thorough wash, she was ready to get dressed. She slipped on a light pink, ruffle dress and set her hair to be long, straight, and flowy down her back. She alpplied some mascara, a few dabs of blush, and a coat of Cotton Candy flavored lip gloss. After smacking her lips a few times, she was ready.

She grabbed her glittery handbag and whisked out the door, but not before sending a air kiss to Tilly, who sat obediently in the doorway. Shay sent a sweet, and mesmerizing smile, and Tilly stared back. Shay cocked her head, then looked around the apartment. What it would be like to have her own house. Privacy, and no other teenagers running amok the halls at night. She sighed, frustration coming and arresting the bubbly mood.

[astrocompass]

"Up. Up. Down. Down. Left. Right. Left. Right. B. A. Select. Start.
I'm here with a new proclamation
To rid the world of evil and super spies
And new hero for an apathetic nation
Like a Tranformer, more to me than meets the eye"
Mood: Tired Where: Dorm Intetions: Going to get breakfast

He could feel them, always. From the springs in the bed to the nails in the floorboards, everything with an atomic density high enough to be considered a metal was picked up by him. It was like he was sending out sonar, always aware of things but never able to actually do anything about it.

Jesse stared up at the ceiling, his vision fuzzy enough to let his thoughts wander away from counting the tiles in the ceiling as the crisp morning light slid across the room in slowly moving bars. His mind roved over subjects, thinking of what the others here might be doing, if he would be late to breakfast again, comic books, wondering what time it was, how much he had actually slept through the night, comic books. Sometimes he would do this for hours, just lying there searching for all the metal in the room and how far he could reach out with his mind to touch the materials he found or simply thinking over mundane things not ever quite willing to leave the enveloping warmth of his sheets. It was at this point when the sun reached the right peak to cascade into the room stinging his poor eyes with it's light, and he could either a: pull the sheets over his head and wait there for someone to come and drag him out of bed by his ankles or b: actually muster the willpower to get out from the security of his bed-sheets.

Jesse breathed out deeply from his nose, and turned over on his side the old frame groaning as he moved a pale and lightly freckled hand scrabbling across the surface of the nightstand beside the bed for the familiar rounded frame of his glasses. Blindly pressing them onto his face, the brunette sat up propping himself up against the pillows his hands splayed out for balance as he blinked to the sudden increase in sight the lenses had given him. Finally as the boy's eyes aligned, the room around him could be seen in perfect clarity. The floor was wood, with the feet of those who had stayed in the room before him worn into the grain. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a moment, looking at the wrinkled folds of the tee-shirt and boxers he had fallen asleep in the night before. He tried ran his hand through the absolute curly mess that sat atop his head, but stopped when he fingers became knotted in the thick hair. Jesse smirked half-heartedly in spite of himself, figuring he looked awful anyway right about now and it wouldn't be any use with his hair clumped in odd places, his Marvel shirt two sizes too big and slumping off is lanky frame, and his mouth having that distinct unpleasant taste of not having been brushed for a couple hours.

He slid off the side of the bed, the cold feel of the floor sending a shiver up his spine and jolting him awake. Jess plodded over to his dresser, intending to pull on a decent looking set of clothes before trooping off downstairs to the wide kitchen in which the other orphans would gather with him to inhale their breakfast before heading out. "Looks like it's just going to be another day" he mused quietly to himself, over the cloudless sky outside. Not a spot of adventure in sight.

[tide.]

[Walk this world alone try to stay on my feet
Sometimes crawl, fall, but I stand up cause I'm afraid to sleep
And open my eyes to a new day, with all new problems and all new pain

with; no one
where; in bed and around the orphanage
doing; thinking;;walking around

We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.
- martin luther king, jr.

Echo's eyes flew open, blinking a little in the light of dawn. She had been dreaming violently, and failing to sleep very well the whole night through. When was the last time she'd slept well? Possibly never. Very possibly never. Echo sat up and extended her wings---as much as she could in this tiny, sad excuse for a room. Even though the sun shed a golden light outside, it was filtered through the window as grey and brown.
Echo hated it here. To be perfectly truthful, she really, really hated it here. She couldn't help but be on the orphan's side, though; how could she be on the side of the resistance if she didn't even know what they did? Echo nonchalantly brushed a soft ringlet of hazelnut brown hair out of her eyes, and she blinked a little. She stretched her arms and yawned, standing up slowly but still getting a head rush. Echo was a little dizzy, but she picked up the grubby hoodie she'd had since she came here a few years ago and pulled it on, instantly feeling a little warmer. She poked her wings through the little slits she'd cut in the back for them, knowing that it would kill her to not be able to fly away at any chance she got, to just snap out her wings and fly away into the open blue sky, never coming back again... but as if. Really, she'd like to have the slits there just so that she could stretch her wings if she wanted to, although mainly she kept them folded neatly against her back. Why would she even try to fly? Where was there to go?
Hopeless, that's what she was. When she first got here, she thought that eventually they'd break out. That was what she'd die remembering. You couldn't get out of here. Every single one of these freaks was just as trapped as she was. Yawning slightly again and walking downstairs to get some sort of food, Echo sighed. It was the same thing every day. Some people say that about their lives, but here, there really was no option. You couldn't go anywhere. You're around the same people every day. You don't even go to school. Despite that, though, Echo loved to write. Writing was an escape, a constant dream world of running and dreams coming true and peace, a combination of things that she'd never have if she continued on living here.

All the faces are filled with so much anger
Losing our dignity and hope from fear of danger, After all the wars, after settling the scores, at the break of dawn we will be deaf to the answers ~]