Lucy Furr, Prince of Lite Brites (iwillreign) wrote in monte_rpg, @ 2012-05-13 17:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | [event], [minilog], belphegor, halphas, lucifer, odin |
[It was safe to say that Lysander cared very little for the occasion and didn't intend on saying or doing anything. His intent was to sleep in, finish up some studying and possibly wander about aimlessly as a means of collecting his thoughts. He had been filled to the brim with emotions lately; vile, wretched and completely human emotions. But, despite his own aversion to the mere concept of feeling anything outside of his appointed sin, he could not say that he particularly hated the emotions. They were just...unsettling at best. Though he'd never admit to this out loud.
Nevertheless, as he rolled out of bed and shuffled about in a still-very-sleepy daze, he had reached up to finger-comb his hair and found, intertwined amongst all of the blond a smattering of flowers.
Anyone within a fifty foot radius probably heard his screaming, and his shouting and the slew of vulgar curses he shrieked at the top of his lungs.
Then his mother called. She demanded to know why he had not said nor done anything for her on this special occasion. He wanted nothing to do with her, but she was unrelenting. At least his grandmother was smart enough not to expect anything from him, and she had done far more for Lysander than his mother had ever managed. More shouting would have been heard as he stomped about his room in both a panicked frenzy and an furious frustration. All plans had been foiled. He was not relaxed any longer, had not been able to lazily start his day and certainly was not going to get any studying or wandering into his schedule.
And, oh, did he have plenty of rage brewing up inside of him. All of it simply begging to be let free.]
Fuck today. Fuck mothers. Fuck this stupid bullshit about having to do anything.
AND WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?My hair. My arms.
I think I'm going to go burn down an art studio or store break something.