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With a sigh Calder brought the cigarette to his lips, barely taking the smoke in before it drifted from his mouth, wafting into the night air. After almost a year of intermittent smoking the cancer sticks still bothered him a good deal, but they were comforting.

The red neon of his shop’s sign illuminated his back as the man coughed slightly, wiping his mouth and blinking as the sun slowly set.

#open RP #calderink

A return

After a long ass time of not being on tumblr my flame for RP has reignited and Calder’s back in business. It’s been over a year since I last poked this, but I will do my best to bring stuff back to where I left it, with another year of life jading me. I’ve made some changes to Calder’s backstory and abilities, but he remains the same dude as before.

I look forward to meeting new folk, reconnecting with old interactions, and just generally having a good time. Tis good to be back.

#calderink #return #RP

Cemetery.

From the Greek word "κοιμητήριον" or, "sleeping place"

They were said to be places where the dead lay-- Where those whose lives had passed now slept.

It was a place where the living came to frequent in times of mourning, or when they desired to visit those that had moved on from their plane. Often, those left behind spoke and acted as if their loved ones remained beneath the stones that marked their graves... However...

There was nothing there.

"..."

Despite the name etched upon the grave, there was no trace of whomever that person once was... there. There lay nothing within the confines of what supposedly contained them... Nothing upon the red that cushioned the inside, and nothing within the pallid walls of the outer shell that lay still, trapped, beneath the earth. And... It was the same for her.

It was the strangest sensation to watch one's family grieve over them, whilst attempting to hold conversation with a carved rock... With the earth. With... everything that was not her. And despite all the attempts to garner their attention-- to make them look at her, ".. I'm not there, Kenta, " "Mama, look at me." "Papa, Kouta, I'm here."-- it always ended the same way.

The ivory figure would watch her family leave the grave yard, leaving her no choice but to watch them do so. Even if she were to follow them, no amount of speaking, crying, or otherwise would alert them to her presence. ".. This isn't fair."

#open starter!#OTL I tried.. fjksdfsd I really did but it looks like my writing block isn't getting anywhere very fast.#calderink #;; Sorry for the wait! ;;; I hope this is okay. . _ .