MEANT FOR THE FLIES [o]

[JESSE]

With the sun set low in the sky, lapped up by the ocean, Jesse could only hope to be brave wandering alone in the miserable trek of a land called Thriller Bark. Jesse wasn't typically faced with cowardice, he only ever briefly fought with his picks of location, but Thriller Bark had quite the track record --- assault, thievery, murder, vandalism, the whole shebang. And in all the wanders' travels he had yet to every truly bring himself to descend along this land of the forsaken, for the sake of self preservation, but he was running low on survival instincts today. Or this week. It had actually decayed the Friday before last on the salty shores of some unnamed island, where he decided he finally wanted to make something out of his life. And the only natural way to begin that was to face his fears, a.k.a walk into the ghetto, a.k.a walk into Thriller Bark, a.k.a walk into Hell. There was a putrid stench in the air that made his nose twitch every few seconds, and he was pretty sure it was rotted human flesh.

He teetered around in an attempt to escape the scent, but it seemed to be rolling in from every nook and cranny, he was beginning to second guess his being here, but couldn't turn back due to a faint clanking noise that started up in the direction of his retreat. He could only charge forward, against his better judgment, he figured if he was already in deep shit might as well plunge further. With his finger curled tightly around the knife in his jacket pocket.

For a man terrified out of his wits he handled himself well though, he had kept himself drifting along at a natural if not relaxed pace with a vacant expression dulling his face, like this was no big, like it was an everyday stroll to him. Even if he was telling himself a thousand times per step he was 'so fucked'. His natural paranoia took effect in such situations, and typically went off like a siren set on code red. His only hope was he could get the hell out of there soon enough, even if soon enough was at least several days from now. "Fuck", he muttered, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he trudged around town, plagued by concerns.

[MELLO]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 345px; height: 100; border-bottom: 3px solid #FFC125, btable][STYLE=font-family: georgia; color: #FFC125; font-size:25px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 2px #c0c0c0; letter-spacing: 1px;]ONE DROP OF HONEY[/style][STYLE=border:3px solid #FFC125; width:100px; float:right; margin-left: 2px;][/style][STYLE=height: 300px; overflow: auto; font: 10px verdana; padding-right: 3px; text-align: justify; color: #FFFFFF; text-indent: 3px;]Damn did it smell. It was downright rank. The putrid stench of desiccated corpses that seemed to exude from the very air of Thriller Bark. Even if there were no dead bodies around the smell of corpses would waft from miles away, carried on by the savage winds. Crow's slender digits clutched a jet black guitar as he aimlessly wandered down a barren deserted street. His fingers strummed a delicate tune on the acoustic instrument, the somber melody flowing throughout the dank streets of Thriller Bark. Whether or not he had been born or raised here was completely unknown to the black suit wearing musician; all he could remember was waking up bloody and beaten in a Thriller Bark alley at age eighteen. Ever since waking up in that alley the man who had come to be known as Crow spent his days playing away on his guitar, slaying whoever dare cross his path. A low curse slipped out from somewhere near to Crow. The enigma of a musician delicately tipped his coal colored fedora down to cover his eyes, making sure to keep his face glued to the ground. It was best this way. Or at least this was the best way to stay alive in Thriller Bark since eye contact basically meant death. On he continued to walk, Crow's digits sliding over the metal strings as smoothly as a knife through butter. Sluggishly his eyes rose from the ground, his playing coming to a quiet halt as he looked up and upon a dark haired young man that stood before him. Crow simply stared, his eyes soulless. His stare cold. There was no doubt about it...Crow had definitely seen this guy before. [/style]

[style=font-family: Courier New; font-size: 10px;]template by BRITZ☆ (aka KETSUE) of LS and BTN[/style]

[ZOMIE BASTELLIA]

I THINK YOU'RE FREAKY.
AND I LIKE YOU A LOT.

ah, thriller bark! it really was a thrill, right? the trees were all pretty much dead, so the bark was a bit of a mystery. but it was a thriller, for sure. so much fun! eh, it kinda smelled, but not too bad. zomie didn't mind anyway. it wasn't anything she wasn't used to, you know? in a way, it was sorta invigorating. reviving. energizing. it made her sweets taste foul, though, which was pretty lame. the putrid air was the reason she didn't actually bring any of them onto the island. no way, no way. the vile stench enough was enough to turn the vanilla icing on her pastries dingy green. bleh. no good, no good.

"get back here, you fucking bitch!"
"you think you can do that to our boss and get away with it?!
"we're gonna fucking kill you!"

oh, that's right! zomie was on the run, you see. some guys had tried to hit on her shortly after she arrived on the island. she was a bit tipsy, so she played along. but when she got bored with them, she just got up and left. well, they were all pretty...er, bothered at that point, which didn't interest zomie at all. they were boring. oh, and ugly. very, very ugly. zomie didn't like them, so yeah she left. b u t apparently the men weren't interested in being teased like that. the biggest one, the boss she supposed, grabbed her and tried to pull her onto his lap. and zomie was like, "hell no, ugly!

so she staked one of her super-pointy crayons into his junk, kicked him in the face, and darted out of that smelly bar toot sweet. the asshole's lackies weren't happy about that...and they probably weren't too happy at her laughing the whole time, either...oops! so now like, what - nine, ten fat, ugly pirates were chasing after her or something? yeah, that looked about right. ha! it was like a game of tag, you know? and zomie loved a good game of tag.

"dahahaaa! dahahahaha! catch me if you can, losers~! ♥"

quickly, quickly, quickly she ran - turning down that alley, jumping over that trash heap, the usual. ah, too fun! oh, and they were getting a little closer now, too! but they wouldn't catch her. well, they probably wouldn't...except for the carefree little imp wasn't really paying attention where she was going and...WHAM! she ran into some dude with his hands in his pockets. oops!

"ow ow ow!" she shouted childishly, lifting herself off of the ground by using the poor street-walker as a pushing board. she lightly dusted off her elbows and knees, swinging her pink hair out of her face before turning to face her pursuers, who had managed to finally catch up with her, knives and swords drawn. "oh man, oh man. end of the line, i guess. looks like it, huh. er, hm. well, oh well~" pulling out two red crayons from the small pouch on her waist, a huge smile spread across the wild child's face; she was excited!

"oh, yeah, i almost forgot!" spinning back around to face the victim of her absent-mindedness, as well as some guitar-playing hippie in a suit, zomie spoke again, just as childishly as before, "hey hey, you two. zomie's playing tag, okay? and you guys are it with me and we gotta get those assholes out, 'kay? help me out and i'll buy you some drinks ♥"

[JESSE]

The whole point of being on end was that Jesse could avoid being had, he had been periodically glancing around whenever he believed nobody was looking and always listened intently on his surroundings. Were those steps to close? How long has that person been on my trail? It had lead to a subsequently complex flurry of spins and turns that ultimately lead him nowhere. He would be hard-pressed to have someone sneak up on him so early in his story though, no cool guy ever got cool from getting jumped in some horror theme park. Among other things. He took a deep breathe of the stagnant night air to cool his nerves, but it only riled him up more, what gave with that damned odor?

He imagined a pile rotting corpses, lying off somewhere the distance just exuding this rank stench, fertilizing the air with their death. He let out a slight tremor in response to such intense imagery, poor souls of the dead, and he was breathing in their smoke. He chanced a moment to clear his mind, taking in small baby breathes as he crossed his fingers in his pockets, the way he always did when he wanted something to go away, but with every token breathe he'd flash back to a new pile of corpses wasting away on some death hill. And that's when it hit him, full force into his side, and he dropped, dropped fast.

The first thing he felt was dizziness, and then a sharp pain in his elbow, the right one to be specific. He didn't even feel the girl using him like a stool, just bewilderment and pain. "Who the hell", he hissed as he shifted to his other, uninjured, elbow. "What the hell are going on about?" He had taken the time to pull himself off the ground before spitting out the question, as he began swatting the dust off his pants. He was too lost to be genuinely angry at the girl. Though the crowd following her was swaying his opinion. He quickly scrambled for the knife in his pocket, readying it in his grip, but still hidden in the pocket. "Oh fucking beautiful, what the hell did you do to them?" She probably just said no to one of their sick requests, but he figured it was good to get that simple question out of the way. At least he should know the reason he might die.

As for the other man she regarded to, he hadn't the gall to take his eyes away from the armed fiends.

[MELLO]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 345px; height: 100; border-bottom: 3px solid #FFC125, btable][STYLE=font-family: georgia; color: #FFC125; font-size:25px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 2px #c0c0c0; letter-spacing: 1px;]ONE DROP OF HONEY[/style][STYLE=border:3px solid #FFC125; width:100px; float:right; margin-left: 2px;][/style][STYLE=height: 300px; overflow: auto; font: 10px verdana; padding-right: 3px; text-align: justify; color: #FFFFFF; text-indent: 3px;]Crow's hard glaze of a stare never once moved from the black haired male. The two had come to a standstill and it was uncertain who would do what. Crow himself wasn't even completely sure what he was going to do. Simply looking on, Crow couldn't help but feel a slight tingle in the back of his temple. A sort of growing warm sensation began to ripple throughout his spine and all of a sudden he dropped to a knee. Using his guitar as a cane Crow's long slender right hand clutched his face as if it was about to fall, his eyes widening in horror as he hadn't a clue what this raging feeling was that was overtaking him. Visions and clips and pictures and images rushed into his psyche all at once, but he couldn't properly tell anything apart. It was like a bomb had gone off in Crow's head, but he had no idea why. When the images stopped, everything was a blur and the dark haired man was on the floor. Had Crow done this in his moment of blacking out? Sluggishly he rose from his knee, the black material of his suit not even scuffed by the hard ground. Noise? Lots of men. At least ten of the bastards. Gripping the guitar even harder Crow gave a quick glance around the crowd, beads of sweat dancing from his brow. The ordeal had left him quite exhausted, but he had no clue what had happened, all Crow understood was that he was surrounded by a gang of men with weapons in Thriller Bark. The usual. Two hands slid over the neck of the jet black guitar, Crow holding the instrument downward like a bat, when all at once he sprung forward like a bat out of hell and cracked the guitar across one brutes face. Whipping around, the suit wearing musician swiped another man off his feet using a horizontal swipe to the legs with his guitar, then ended the man with a raging guitar smash to the face. He peered up, eyes full of subtle rage as he looked on to what this pink haired girl and familiar man would do. [/style]

[style=font-family: Courier New; font-size: 10px;]template by BRITZ☆ (aka KETSUE) of LS and BTN[/style]

[ZOMIE BASTELLIA]

I THINK YOU'RE FREAKY.
AND I LIKE YOU A LOT.

"zomie didn't do anything~" sang the pink-haired bandit with a grin and a giggle. well, she didn't do much. really, it was her pursuers who were in the wrong, right? picking on a poor, helpless little girl like her. yeah yeah, it was completely their fault! okay okay, maybe she wasn't really poor...or helpless. but that wasn't important right now, you know? for now, she would regard the incident as a simple misunderstanding; a mis-communication between two parties with very different ideas about life.

black hat was already getting into it, bastellia had noticed, watching him as he took out two of the raggedy perverts. ah ah! she couldn't wait any longer, she wanted to have fun, too! giving the crayons a quick grip, she brought the tips to her tongue, poking it ever so slightly with the sharpened points; a small droplet of blood soon began to mix in with her saliva. ready! set! go! "zomie is going to kill you guys now, 'kay? ♥"

without another second of hesitation, the pirate captain darted at two of the men, who at the same time had gone to charge her. they both attempted to shank her in the sides with their daggers, but she effortlessly flipped above them, landing softly behind them. in one swift movement, both of her crayons disappeared into the sides of the men's heads - buried deep in their temples. they fell to the ground instantly, blood pouring from their wounds.

"dahahaahahahahaha! oh man, oh man. that's two for zomie. two for black hat. come on, you, fight fight fight!" another man had now come to confront zomie, swinging at her with his sword, which she avoided by backhand-springing backwards, the blade just narrowly missing her with each movement. "and you're gonna have to do better than that, dumbass. ♥"

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