Perpetrating like i'm the hardest (Lucy) [Warning]
Dec 23, 2012 1:35:33 GMT -5
Post by Jocelyn Delancey on Dec 23, 2012 1:35:33 GMT -5
[ooc: The following posts may include graphic/vulgar language and themes that may be uncomfortable for some users to read. Given that you've been warned as promised.]
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After the whole incident in the cafeteria Jocelyn needed to vent anger, frustration, and pin back that urge to break into files to find out where the hell ulrich was housed in that school so that he could get his revenge. No he had to make sure to get deep under that kid's skin. He'd figure out the best way to do that in time.
It was sometime in the evening, he should have been at training, but he refused to go today. Unless they found him and planned to drag him there by an ear he was simply not going. Instead he'd taken his supplies and gone straight for an empty club room. Well, mostly empty anyway, beyond the usual furnishings that is.
The loud echo of an easel setting up echoed through the room, then the canvas being placed and the materials being laid out neatly, almost obsessively in a certain order. That's the way they had to be or he'd completely go mad until it was just right.
Through the room the sound of scraping would echo, the brush strokes upon the canvas, the smooth flow of the paint to the surface. However, the sounds that normally were music to his ears, did nothing to ease the anger he felt as he sighed. A painful sting within his throat reminding him why he'd been pissed in the first place.
His rage caused him to do something that normally would have killed him inside to see happen. He slung his hands to the side, knocking off his materials and the canvas rather suddenly, sending the paint and brushes into the air and the glass jar of water shattering upon the floor.
Paint splattered over the furniture, the floor, his open white button-up shirt, his pants, his shoes, and it seemed he would regret that act only a moment later. His paint covered hand gripping at his own hair a bit, "Fouchking Faggot I'll destroy tha'fouchking fouchk!" his accented voice would ring out into the halls.
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After the whole incident in the cafeteria Jocelyn needed to vent anger, frustration, and pin back that urge to break into files to find out where the hell ulrich was housed in that school so that he could get his revenge. No he had to make sure to get deep under that kid's skin. He'd figure out the best way to do that in time.
It was sometime in the evening, he should have been at training, but he refused to go today. Unless they found him and planned to drag him there by an ear he was simply not going. Instead he'd taken his supplies and gone straight for an empty club room. Well, mostly empty anyway, beyond the usual furnishings that is.
The loud echo of an easel setting up echoed through the room, then the canvas being placed and the materials being laid out neatly, almost obsessively in a certain order. That's the way they had to be or he'd completely go mad until it was just right.
Through the room the sound of scraping would echo, the brush strokes upon the canvas, the smooth flow of the paint to the surface. However, the sounds that normally were music to his ears, did nothing to ease the anger he felt as he sighed. A painful sting within his throat reminding him why he'd been pissed in the first place.
His rage caused him to do something that normally would have killed him inside to see happen. He slung his hands to the side, knocking off his materials and the canvas rather suddenly, sending the paint and brushes into the air and the glass jar of water shattering upon the floor.
Paint splattered over the furniture, the floor, his open white button-up shirt, his pants, his shoes, and it seemed he would regret that act only a moment later. His paint covered hand gripping at his own hair a bit, "Fouchking Faggot I'll destroy tha'fouchking fouchk!" his accented voice would ring out into the halls.