take me after noon (open)

[JUPITER MICHAELS]

[atrb=background, i55.tinypic.com/dpk5yx.png][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width, 400,true][atrb=style,border-radius:1em; -moz-border-radius:1em;][atrb=cellpadding,20px,true] HEART, HEART, HEAVY HEART When she attended public school - before she dropped out due to poor attendance, that is - she often whizzed by Stockton in her older brother's car. Abner drove her and made sure she went inside the campus building: her "parents" didn't trust her to drive herself to school when she often skipped out anyways. More than once she stared out the car window and watched as the shiny music school went by in a blur. She asked him once, "Hey, Brofake, just what do they do in that place?" All she knew about it was that kids went there to pursue music lessons. Turned out it was mostly for rich kids. Several weeks later, her time slots understandably freed from all classes, Jupiter Michaels stood by the intersection and stared at Stockton School of the Arts. The streets downtown bored her today: no one around for her to people-watch or annoy the crap out of. And lately, she had turned an idea around and around in her head until it hatched into a pleasant plan. Stockton, all new and pretty, shiny silver roof and sealed-shut practice rooms. Half of the time rich kids, all dolled up to practice their stupid violins with some prideful mentor. Ever since she noticed the school rolling past her window, she felt the inherent need to see all the shiny stuff crumple into a million dirty pieces. Maybe she didn't have the actual firepower to see a building fall in on itself, but other options existed. This morning, while eating her sausage taquito from Whataburger, an option formulated in front of her. She loved that the scientists bore her out of snake DNA: if SHIFT had bestowed her with something as pussy as a rabbit, she would never get to do this kind of stuff. The crosswalk light turned green. Still smirking after her train of thought, Jupiter crossed the intersection. While she walked from the asphalt onto the other side of the street, she reached into the front pocket of her hoodie. She wrestled out a small pouch with a string, similar to a passport holder, and checked the zippers to make sure she still had her extra set of gym clothes in it. On the sidewalk next to the Stockton campus, she tied the pouch around her neck and continued on to the grounds. A row of tall, trimmed berry bushes lined the outside of a hallway to several practice rooms. Walking backwards, glancing in all directions to make sure no one saw her, she saddled behind the bushes. In the cold shade she shed every article of clothing and, as always, breathed in relief that garments no longer constrained her body. Hoodie, jeans, and panties pooled at her feet, Jupiter edged out a quiet, eerie giggle. Then, quicker than she had shed her clothes, she shed her human skin for a Mojave rattlesnake. As she slithered out from between the bushes and through the open doorway, the pouch tied to her neck held along her scaly back, her tongue tasted the air for a human presence. At first, she slid unawares down the cool tile floor, inching toward the back of the hallway. Her tongue picked up the unmistakable scent particles of humans, and only a few feet away her eyes perceived tall two-legged figures. She rattled her tail; as expected, the humans gave a collective gasp and then satisfying screams. The relative silence of the hall soon turned into a tense and fearful hub. But to stay out in the open part of the school wouldn't do: she needed to truly terrify others, to watch as they squirmed with absolute shock and fright. It came naturally to her to follow her smell, so she slithered with a sense of almost whimsy through the half-opened door of a practice room. A boy and girl sat close to each other, the girl playing a strain of vibrations through the air using a guitar. The rattlesnake climbed up a tilted bass case and onto the keyboard of the piano, her belly barely making noise against the white keys. Near where the boy rested his violin she started to rattle violently. YOU'RE A MIGHTY LION tagged: julius, kumo words: 682 notes: C-C-C-COMBO BREAKER! credits to minty

[JULIUS BISHOP]

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One minute I held the key next the walls had closed on me Julius wouldn’t deny, in the privacy of his own mind of course, that Kumo played fairly well. Stiff, uncomfortable and under the pressure from a peer he’d been hoping she’d resort to the debasingly novice level pieces that toddlers could play without sheet music. Something like ‘twinkle, twinkle’ or any other foolish nursery rhyme she might have remembered in her frazzled moments of pulling out her instrument and plucking away at the shining strings as deftly as any unpracticed, unschooled musician. Indeed Kumo had surprised the eye-patch wearing teen, masking his discontent with contrived awe and rapt attention his own instrument elapsed from memory. All the more interesting that Kumo hadn’t succumbed to her anxieties was the fact that the piece she was presently filling the room with was not one he recognized. Not to say that Julius was a big follower of the music industry or its artists but he did make a minor effort to at least be relatively up to date in the modern groups so he had something to talk about. His knowledge was shallower than a kiddie pool but enough so that he would appear to have the gist of it. However, this artist he didn’t know so he wasn’t about to be foolishly prideful and attempt to play along the melody, riding the coattails of her notes. It was almost irritating. But even more frustrating than the unknown song, was the budding partiality he was building for it. Again, never having been the kid who hopped the musical bandwagon, checking popularity ratings or updating a playlist with almost religious devotion, but he grudgingly had to admit that he liked how the melody played. Now, because he was a nasty little bugger the young dark-haired Frenchman wouldn’t stoop so low as to ask what it was. He’d sooner go without than give a hint to his enjoyment to the girl and damn it all if it wasn’t going to haunt him for weeks until he discovered it. Hopefully Kumo would become the talkative type sometime soon and would give the name without his having to prompt her to do so. But considering she’d been shaking in her pretty little shoes in just meeting him he wasn’t going to get his hopes up. It was somewhere toward the end of Kumo’s solo – or he assumed so since the melody had started winding down – when an untimely rattling drew his attention from the violet-eyed musician. For a second Julius wasn’t sure what he was looking at, it was just this mass of shuddering brownish orange coils and his eyes knew what it was but it was taking his brain a few seconds to catch up. The fuck is a rattlesnake doing in an art school!? Did the visual artists lose their model? Frozen for a second as the rattling reptile, tasting the air in short intervals, Julius did the first thing that came to mind: grabbed his violin and swung.

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[Kumo Perry]

She had lost herself for the short few minutes of playing the song, her eyes closed slightly, head bent down and her attention completely drawn tot the guitar- though there was that little part of her that knew she was being watched and she was still incrediably nervous, she just wasn't as nervous. The song slowed until it eventually stopped, Kumo expecting to look up and then be exceptionally nervous again but came across something that scared her senseless.

Kumo hadn’t known what could have been scarier than performing in front of her until she laid eyes upon the rattle snake. Her initial reaction was to simple stare at the snake, its tail rattling in a menacing way. She might have even like the creature- had it been locked up and safe to be around. But no. This was a wild and angry looking snake. Kumo’s heart leapt, her skin crawling as she forced herself to be still. Her face must have drained of any colour by now, sweat forming on her brow.

Fear had already taken over by the time Julius grabbed him violin and lashed out at the rattle snake, Kumo jumped to her feet and in a matter of seconds she was further away from the piano than she thought she would have managed. Even at a distance her heart was pounding, her small hands clutching desperately onto her guitar, holding it out in front of her as if it were a shield. She could feel herself shaking and did her best to stop and take a step forwards. “Is that- How did- Did you-?” She couldn’t bring herself to form the whole sentence, her eyes not daring to look to where the snake was. Now was the perfect moment to leave..

[JUPITER MICHAELS]

[atrb=background, i55.tinypic.com/dpk5yx.png][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width, 400,true][atrb=style,border-radius:1em; -moz-border-radius:1em;][atrb=cellpadding,20px,true] HEART, HEART, HEAVY HEART She found their reactions just delightful, each one like a little surge of tickling warmth through her coils. How easily the peaceful practice session shattered. For a split second, perhaps right as the music simmered out, they stood numbed with shock, frozen mid-scene. Then, she watched intently as fear washed over their faces like shadow - the girl's especially. For what felt like minutes she absorbed every detail of the scene, like a museum visitor looking on a diorama. The amount of dark-eyed terror she witnessed would satisfy her for a lifetime - or a week, at least. Of course, would it be wrong to snake past their feet and explore the rest of the hall? Or perhaps she ought to shift - right here, right now - and shock them with the sight of a rattlesnake changing into a naked sixteen-year-old girl? It might shock the little boy just to see someone naked of the opposite sex - think of that shock compounded three times! She honestly couldn't question her own thinking: who wouldn't consider the possibilities when afflicting other people's emotions was just too spectacular? Of course, all of this rather confident thinking instantly broke when the little, innocent boy grabbed the violin beside her and raised it over his shoulder. She had about a split second's time to recognize the attack and react to it before the violin connected. She just barely skirted away, practically launching her body back onto the piano's keys, when the violin slammed in the spot she once occupied. Close call. Unfortunately, as she unraveled and began to assess the damage, she came across one flaw in her escape: her pouch with extra clothes was wedged underneath his violin. Needless to say, the cord was still wrapped twice around her body below her arrow-shaped head, and she was trapped. Okay, she knew people's fear manifested in all kinds, and certainly people have reacted with violence before, but most people are smart enough not to attack a venomous snake. Somewhere off in the distance, a feminine voice stuttered out words, and closer by, another set of breath gave a single pant. Jupiter began to do the only thing she could think of in this situation, which was to wriggle around and try to slip her head underneath the cord of the pouch. Her surprise was quickly replaced by a string of expletives: God-damn it, shit shit shit fucked I am so fucked. It was harder than she thought. She concentrated and contracted her glands as much as possible, trying to make her head narrower, but her head only squeezed through the cord in segments. She would never escape before turning into snake hide. She did not want to become a shitting purse for this brat to parade around with on Nordstorm avenue, or wherever the hell pompous rich kids shopped these days. Still rattling futilely, hoping to at least frighten the boy enough to buy her some time, Jupiter wrestled with the cord, often smacking against the piano keys to create misplaced sounds. She almost had it. If she could just yank her head back through one more loop... YOU'RE A MIGHTY LION tagged: julius, kumo. words: 529 notes: woah, you guys post faster than anybody I've ever roleplayed with. Sorry for the delay. xD;; credits to minty

[JULIUS BISHOP]

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One minute I held the key next the walls had closed on me The violin had become an incomprehensible blur of speed and movement and not a split second later was the sound of the polished instrument announced its death as it came down on the piano top. The snake had moved, narrowly escaping being cleaved in two but having only just escaped the first of the violinist’s’ attacks. He’d totaled his inopportune weapon sadly, the beautiful item that had become his avenging blade turned out to be the only casualty. Julius’ rigid stance was unchanged; breathing faint and shallow, staring at the splintered violin whose bottom half lolled over the side of the piano by the few strings that had refused to snap. Splinters littered the floor and were strewn over the jet-black surface of the piano, its hollowed insides visible and sharpened edges skewering the pouch attached to the snake. Shifter. His mind kept repeating it but it was several seconds of watching the vile creature writhing on the other end of the drawstring before he processed the thought. His blue eye danced with a cold fury, expression unmoved and brows knotted and lips in a tight line as he spoke in monotone, “It’s a Shifter.” The words came in clipped notes. Why’d and how he’d come to this conclusion was beyond a doubt simpler than playing one of Stravinsky’s musical medleys. Firstly there was absolutely no rational purpose for a snake to be in the school, even had it been some unwise model for a class of art students someone would have alerted the rest of the populace on its escape. Secondly, the thing didn’t exactly act like your typical dumb beast. A regular venomous snake would have tried to strike him when he’d lashed out. And last, the pouch that it was tied to wasn’t exactly a standard accessory for a reptile. “Kumo, could you pass me my bow please? I’m going to whack it a couple of times and see if it changes.” There wasn’t as shred of emotion or hesitance in his speech, fully intending to skin the serpent alive until it started to do something far more interesting than the average rattlesnake. Attacking probably hadn’t been his greatest idea to date but it certainly wasn’t the worst he’d had.

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