sample log for Institute
Sep. 15th, 2012 08:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hired_pistol[1: Everybody knows that smoking ain't allowed in school]
Shin's found that perfect little spot to sneak off and smoke. A little alcove, tucked away out of visual range of almost everyone, it's always shaded but looks out on the grounds so you can watch the mutants playing in the sunlight. He lights up, inhales. The smoke floods his lungs, dark, fruity and sweet and on comes the swimminess of nicotine. He looks down at the lighter, still flaming a few seconds. He sees Reira in the flames, flickering, as bright as the sun that's baking the ground three feet away.
Dwelling on these kinds of things is not cool, so he snaps it shut. That's when he notices he's not alone. "Hey." He says around his cherry black stone.
[2: A veritable smorgasboard, orgasboard, after the crowds have gone]
Somewhere in the wee hours, you end up getting pancakes. It's surprisingly busy at the diner for this amount of time and tired and hungry from playing (as part of the opening act) and dancing (to the headliners, though whether you consider pogoing and moshing "dancing" is your personal preference), Shin's stomach growls. He gives the waitress the most pitiful look while she brings you their water and mysteriously your pancakes arrive much sooner than you'd think.
His eyes widen, even larger than they already were. "Whoa, so many..." He snatches one and immediately begins drowning it in butter and syrup.
[3: I wanna rock!]
Your roomie seems to have never developed a sense of when normal people sleep. Right now he's set his mini amp up and his long, black and white fender. Slender fingers dance over it, causing notes to roll out, thumping thumping like balls dropped through a chute. You might or might not recognize Rose.
Shin's found that perfect little spot to sneak off and smoke. A little alcove, tucked away out of visual range of almost everyone, it's always shaded but looks out on the grounds so you can watch the mutants playing in the sunlight. He lights up, inhales. The smoke floods his lungs, dark, fruity and sweet and on comes the swimminess of nicotine. He looks down at the lighter, still flaming a few seconds. He sees Reira in the flames, flickering, as bright as the sun that's baking the ground three feet away.
Dwelling on these kinds of things is not cool, so he snaps it shut. That's when he notices he's not alone. "Hey." He says around his cherry black stone.
[2: A veritable smorgasboard, orgasboard, after the crowds have gone]
Somewhere in the wee hours, you end up getting pancakes. It's surprisingly busy at the diner for this amount of time and tired and hungry from playing (as part of the opening act) and dancing (to the headliners, though whether you consider pogoing and moshing "dancing" is your personal preference), Shin's stomach growls. He gives the waitress the most pitiful look while she brings you their water and mysteriously your pancakes arrive much sooner than you'd think.
His eyes widen, even larger than they already were. "Whoa, so many..." He snatches one and immediately begins drowning it in butter and syrup.
[3: I wanna rock!]
Your roomie seems to have never developed a sense of when normal people sleep. Right now he's set his mini amp up and his long, black and white fender. Slender fingers dance over it, causing notes to roll out, thumping thumping like balls dropped through a chute. You might or might not recognize Rose.
