Sequoia Istas - Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost

[Aveilthé]

OOC: This roleplay is open to all ^-^

The heavy smog seemed almost congealed by its enriched
nebulous City brume. People of the city, either animal or human,
undertook particular functions, employed specifically their dreams
or stressed industrial obligations that worked their noses to
the grindstone. To the mind it may seem the perfect city for
employment, but only a fool would think this. The wise understood
that a job for each individual is what functioned this constricted
city, but if that observant individual remained prisoned in this
place long enough, he would understand completely that this
was not paradise for the fancy-free, only a land of opportunity
for the freelancer. To be one labeled as 'fancy-free' would be
the convicts and outlaws.

The sound of small eight wheels screetched noisily across the
pavement of an allyway, where a young, bantam girl came
into view out from behind a corner. Obviously she was anything
but a freelancer for this 'land of opportunity'. She was coerced to
a light-blue helmet, knee pads, and elbow pads. Strong legs
struck the ground repeatedly as she approached a hill, thus
divulging a pair of extravagant rollerblades easing her feet.
She was quite something in those rollerblades, that skinny
little brat of seventeen, and indeed living up to her trade-mark
nickname of 'bantam-Girl'.

She was an obvious infatuated chick of style, adorning her
toned body with a pair of dark-blue capris. Over her
developed womanhood displayed a mauve tank-top, liberalizing
the word 'Bantam' in curly pink letters across her breast.
Idealized bangles of real silver, bought from her filthy rich
parents that only gave and never love, clinked adequately
from both arms. A silver-chained necklace around her spoiled
neck refined a turquoise pendant, in the shape of a tear.

Hair fluttered from beneath this girl's head, as dark as raven's
wings, and as fine and soft thanks to the most expensive
hair products bought from her good-for-nothing-except-buying-
the-best-things parents. They were cut in layers thanks to the
best solons, but with that blasted helmet on, one couldn't tell
properly.

An unblemished complexion covered her soft carapace. She was
naturally tanned, giving her the 'Native-American' look, that
she undoubtedly was.

It was when she turned that corner, did Sequoia Istas
thrust out her hand-guarded hand to a lightpole to allow
a better acceleration did she skid to a halt. A yard away from her
did a throng of various people stand positioned as if ready
for a heavy skirmish, but not to eachother. Each angry red
eye from man to woman leered, undoubtedly pissed like bulls,
wanting to charge, at Sequoia.

"THERE SHE IS!" yelled one man, spitting as he spoke, pointing
a great filthy sausage-finger in Sequoia's direction.

"Oh craaaap," moaned the girl, swiveling in a dangerous
expidition, nearly toppling over in her haste. Being a pro
on her 'blades, she was uncatchable, let alone undefeatable.
Thus, pumping her legs as quickly as her great metabolism
allowed her, she rollerbladed away from them, though the
angry mob were in a hot pursuit - for reasons still unknown.

A street lay yards away. Sequoia's eyes traveled to the many
hover-cars zipping through the busy highway. She'll have to
make a bet to herself. Not slowing down, the girl spoke to
herself out loud but in an undertone.

"Kay girl, if you make it through, you get double-scoop ice cream,
chocolate, and nuts. Honey would be fine too. If not..."

She turned up the volume of her Ipod-lookalike complete
with headphones, then tightened up her hand-guards.
Sequoia's hair blew all over the place as she raced in a speed
that even Superman himself would die of shock. Thrusting her
fists forward, and her breath becomming more rigid, she
crossed the street in a light blur. She continued on, her
soft brown eyes closed tight, but soon opened them when the
sound of honking hover-cars became something of the past. She
slowed a bit, turning around with ease. The mob were angrily
shouting at her, a few displaying rude hand gestures in her
direction. Lofting her brows, she curtly turned from them,
rollerblading more gently this time. They will never be able
to catch her. "Too smart for 'em," she smirked, tossing her
raven-black hair from her exotic-looking eyes, though her
voice shook a bit.

She had gotten into deep trouble. Her father normally gotten
her out of tight situations before, considering his wealthy status;
he had the money to do that. Wiping off her forehead with the
back of her hand, she continued on, looking her best to not look
quite suspicious lest the city police stopped her and asked for
an inquiry.

[Mama Z]

"Some people say a man is made out of mud
A poor man is made out of muscle and blood
Muscle and blood and skin and bones
A mind that's weak and a back that's strong"

The city was more polluted then he remembered. Even more crowded with people, cars,
buildings and above all garbage. Garbage from both those damn cars and the people
that walked along, carelessly throwing their trash where ever they pleased. Bums seemed
to be every where. Meh, no biggie, just more easy meals. Speaking of easy meals, everyone
here seemed to be on the plump side. Now was the time of day when you could tell the rich from the downright poor. City of dreams, more like a vampires paradise, a humans nightmare.

"You loud sixteen tons,
what do you get?
Another day older and deeper in debt
Saint Peter don't you call me
Cause I can't go,
I owe my soul to the company store"

He moved with ease through the people. Not caring if he bumped into a little old lady here
or a fat man there, he just kept on truckin, singing his song outloud. He didnt care about the
odd stares he got from the turkeys. They wouldnt remember him in a day anyways, unless they were unfortunite meal of his, then they wouldnt have to worry about anything. He had to smirk lightly as he barged through the middle of a teenage, goth make out. They cursed and a few threatened but the thin 25 year old just laughed yelling, 'Watch out she might bite!' As he rounded the corner.

Zilon was a solid 6'1, had been for at least a couple hundered years. His form was thin, and muscles stuck out nicely beneath the rather tight black teeshirt. The teeshirt was tucked neatly into a pair of black jeans. Several belts adorned his hips, one fitting snuggly and a few rested down lower, yes it gave his hips a rather female look but it was a look he had had for years. Underneath the jeans a rather chunky pair of boots rested, mud of some sort caking them like the leather itself. His hair was cut short, something he had recived from a slayer, (It was litterally a close cut!). Covering a tattoo that rested on his left palm was a pair of fingerless, leather and you guessed it, black gloves.

"I was born one mornin' when the sun wouldn't shine
I picked up my shovel and walked to the mine
I loaded sixteen tonesof number nine coal
And my start boss said well son bless my soul'

But what made this rather goth looking man different from the rest was the naturally red eyes that rested in his skull and the seeming long set of fangs that popped out every now and again as he sang. Zilon was no longer of living, but not yet was he with the dead. He was a night walker, a vampire. For at least a year he had disappeared from the city, no longer finding its smogy apperence apeasing. But now he was back for a short while, just to take care of a few.....well few slayers.

The vampire paused at a corner, singing his song without a care in the world when his careful eyes caught sight of something odd. A rather large crowd of people chasing after a girl on wheels. Zilon had no problem bringing out his laughter which earned him a few ugly gestures himself. But once again, who cared? He laughed some more then crossed the street, he knew of a great park near here, it was one of his favorite haunts maybe it hadnt changed that much? In this one horse town..doubtful.

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[Aveilthé]

Sequoia Istas was definitely not a down-to-earth law-abider.
Her philosophy was to be fun and fancy-free, always. Perhaps
her filthy rich parents were to blame. Always complaining
that their little girl was underfoot, they hardly noticed her,
being too preoccupied with the day job. Her mother was
a seller of the world's finest jewelry. The mother was always
vain, and wore an excessive amount of jewelry herself. The
father was a portly man who built hover-cars, and managed
his own company - two companies, for technology and the
aforementioned car-building.

The sound of the girl's course, screeching rollerblades hit
pavement still as she continued on. Now she was singing
a song from her mini-MP3-player. She had an absolutely
gorgeous voice, but having earphones in her ear, she
couldn't hear her own voice, which caused her to miss a
few notes. The song she was listening to was a catchy
pop song. Hearing such music, she couldn't hear the
idiot who laughed at the throng of people that chased
her from before. Besides, she was too far away to hear
them anyway. This girl was in her own little world now,
and nobody could take that away from her.

When she began to dance a bit, though gracefully so, a
person from one of the department stores that
saw her through a window came out cheerfully and waved
at her. Sequoia snapped out of her reverie, and waved at
the young man in return. She obviously knew him, yet, she
did not slow down to talk to him. Thus she passed on by
more stores, and tried her best to avoid the people walking
in her direction.

When she rounded a corner, the city park came into view.
Deciding she needed rest for today, she started to slow as
she neared a park bench. She plopped her hiney right on
the bench as she skidded to a halt. Taking off her helmet,
she swished her hair around a bit. It was rather hot now.
She turned off her MP3-player and popped off her earphones,
and simply laid them upon her lap. Taking off her cute pink small
kitty pack from her back, she unzipped it and rummaged through
it. Soon she took out a blue water-bottle, and guzzled the fresh,
icy cold water from it.

"Ahh, so nice," she said to herself. She tossed her pack aside,
and layed back on the bench, closing her eyes. Taking a deep
breath, she'd let loose a sigh, before pulling her head up again.
She undid her rollerblades, and set those beside her pack.
Musky off-white socks covered her petite feet. Crossing her
legs Indian-style on the bench, she once more leaned over
and rummaged through her kitty-pack and took out a fuzzy
blue flip-phone. She flipped it open, and dialed a number.
She held it up to her ear and waited for the other end
to pick up. Nobody answered. Huffing to herself, she closed
the phone and placed it back in her pack. She just sat there
now, calming herself from the run. Now she was plainly bored.

[khoyote]

slosh. slosh. slosh his feet clicked along the pavement of the
pavewalk in the park. head sort of dropped down as his icey blue
eyes watched his feet. seems he had a reckless night before. yes
he sure has. feet kept moving as he thought mindlessly over what
happened last night and how he tried to remember some parts that
he forgot when he blacked out.


barkbarkbark! yip the small annoying toy dog that closely
resembeled a dead rat. it was one of those paris-hilton-wanna-be
dogs. he sneered slightly. moppy black hair fell into his olive-tan
italian skin. he kind of had the dark skin with bright blue eye look
that all girls would fawn over him. he liked it. why should he
complain. he could get all the ass he wanted because of his looks.
but right now; he just was tired.


clothes were dirty and reaked of alchohol and smoke. he just
wanted a shower. and a cigarette. yes. that would be nice. his
white shirt, which brought out his tan some more, was wrinkled and
on the neck were the mark of some girls lipgloss/lipstick. he doesn't
remember who did that. damn crazy college parties. he black
chords were slightly tighter then what the normal guy would wear.
they hung lowly on his hips exposing those underarmor boxers he
had on.


so the dude looked around the park to find a bench he could sit on.
all of them full except for the one with the girl listening to her mp3
player. he might as well sit on that same bench. to him, she was in
her own world listening to her music doing whatever a teenager
would do. well, he would sort of know. he is to tun twenty soon so
those teenage years are not that far from him.


he plopped himself down on the bench. looked to the girl. gave that
friendly neighbor smile and then went back looking to his hand
which shuffeled through his pockets. he pulled out a pack of
cigarettes. one left. thank god. he gave the carton a small kiss in
gratitude. silly, i know. then he shuffeled some more in pockets to
find a lighter. nope. not there. "[grrr]!" he said horsely.


what to do. go to the nearby convinience store or ask the girl next
to him. like all guys would do when they are lazy. "Hey, do you by
any chance have a lighter?" his voice was very city accented. you
could tell he lived deep in the city.

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[Aveilthé]

The moon poked its soft glowing face out from behind a cloud. It
felt good on Sequoia's eyes. She chewed on her upper lip. It
was then that she felt the wooden bench creaked underneath
her. One of the wooden planks rose up, giving her a good
poke on the butt. She gasped a bit, and looked up and
around to see a young man that had sat next to her.
When he looked at her, he gave her a neighborly wave.
Sequoia, somewhat stunned, gave one arch-motion of her
hand in a greeting. She looked back to her MP3-player,
taking the earphones and placing them back in her ear.

Even through the noise of the music playing, Sequoia heard
the nasty word issued from his throat. She rolled her eyes,
bunching her lips in irritation. His company was a bit
unwelcome, even though he was kind of cute. Him sitting
next to her made her feel a bit uncomfortable. It was hard
for her to trust anybody, but he didn't look dangerous at all.

'Hey, do you by any chance have a lighter?'

She glanced at him, giving him a piercing look. "Do
I look like the kind of girl that smokes?" said she,
but smirked as she fumbled in her kitty-pack again. Slender
fingers pulled out a pink lighter, to which she flipped for him
until a small flame was produced. She held it out for him.
"Hurry up. This thing has a tendancy to burn like the [grrr]ens
when I hold it like this for too long."

[Mama Z]

The vampire had taken refuge on the monkey bars. And when I mean on, I mean on. He was litterally perched ontop of them, balencing tenderly on the side bars while his feet rested up on another crossbar. It wasn't the most comfortable spot in the world, he had been sleeping in a cave for sometime now. Since his knees were bent up, his arms were circled loosely around them hands clasping in a gentle manner in the middle.

Eyes were looking up at the cloud covered sky and when he heard the sound of rollar blades he looked down. A smirk came across his face which brought out a sharp fang, well well, if it wasnt Miss Trouble-Maker-Im-Ruler-Of-The-World-Blader. He chuckled, yeah he'd bitten her type before. They tasted exacly how they acted, spoiled. But his curiousity was further peaked when the young man sat down and glanced at her. Zilon tilted his head, tyring to see if he could hear but he couldnt. He could have only guessed what he asked when she brought out the lighter.

The vampire shifted, watching the small scene, trying to determine if they knew each other or not. From a bystanders point of view, it appeared they did. But hey who knew in this city right?

[/center][/color]

[khoyote]

a smile grew on his face when she showed the lighter and lite it for
him. he promptly put the cigarrette into his mouth and moved
closer to the light. puff.puff.puff sweet jesus the cigarette was
lit and he inhaled deeply taking in a fourth of the cig. he held for a
bit and the exhaled fuming out a huge cloud.


"eh, thanks. i really needed that." he said from his husky, still kind
of drunken voice. "now, do you really smoke or do you walk around
with a lighter all the time?" he made some small talk as he took in
another puff of his cig. he scratched his moppy black hair slightly
before placing it back on the bench. his gorgeous blue eyes looked
over the spoiled seventeen year old girl. she wasn't bad looking
but hooking up with a seventeens year-old is just wierd. but things
happen. haha.


"what you doin' out so late? isn't it like past your bedtime or
something?" he joked slightly as he sort of stretched his legs out
before him revealing his vans checkered slip-on and his ankles
beneath those black cords of his. each time he talked. one could
smell the soft stench of alchohol. it wasn't bad but it was there.


he started looking around the park when he looked at the children's
playground. there was something wrong with the shape of the
place. something looked off. maybe it was his vision that was a bit
scewered from drinking or maybe it was real. he inhaled his
cigarette one more time. "you want a drag?" he said looking over to
the girl extending his hand to her with the smoke. there was
maybe two more drags left.

[Aveilthé]

"Naw. I'm too smart to suck on that crap," she replied haughtily,
sinking herself a little lower on the wooden bench, crossing her
arms. "I really don't owe you or anyone an explanation as to
why I carry a lighter. A lighter can be used for anything, not just
to light a damn cigarette."

When he asked her why she stayed out so late, she snorted
and flipped her soft hair over her shoulder. "You sure are
an inquisitive fool, aren't ya," said she. "My parents don't
give a shit about my wherabouts, they're too damn preoccupied
their money, so I just wander off on my own. I don't need
them, or anybody, I can take care of myself. I have been doing
this for the past nine years, so I know everything there is to
know about livin' the city life... streets and all. And nobody
can catch me." She gave an offensively self-satisfied smile as she
gestured at her rollerblades.

It was at that moment, that she too, had noticed the odd shape
on the monkey bars. Vaguely, near the dark depths of her mind,
she somehow knew that this strange dark apparition was
definitely up to no good.

[Mama Z]

Red eyes watched with little amusement, this place had changed in the short span he was gone. This park used to be full of so many more lifefilled people. Not a drunk and a teenaged drama queen. With a disappointed (and highly exaggerated sigh) he fell backwards. Knees hooking the monkey bars with practiced ease. And so the vampire hung there, much like a bat, waiting for a moment to go and cause some hell on the world around him.