Daniela absolutely loves to watch Gabriel practice shooting his bow -- she gets bored easily but could sit for hours in silence staring at him shooting arrows.
When Gabriel seems off or upset, Dani can almost sense it and her mood will immediately change. Especially in a group of people. She will stay close to him like a lioness.
If she has any struggle with anything (even opening a jar) she has Gabe on speed dial and never hesitates to call him even if it’s three am and she can’t get her necklaces off because she is drunk.
Daniela doesn’t like Gabriel’s father at all. She feels that he is way too hard on him and is always shooting the Italian man dirty looks when he isn’t looking.
Have you seen TERENCE LICHT around campus? She/He/They're TWENTY-THREEyears old and the GARDENER on campus. I’ve heard that she/he/they started working here because HE DISCOVERED HIS FAMILY WAS PART OF AN EXTREMIST NEO-NAZI GROUP, when in reality it’s probably rumor. If you look at them closely they kinda resemble LUCAS TILL, but maybe my eyes are just playing tricks on me. (boo!)
Welcome to Plath Academy for Troubled Teens, Terence Licht! Lucas Till is now taken. You have twenty-four hours to send your account in!
meme drabbles - accepting !! // “stop looking at me like that, it’s your fault anyway.”
How did you get here? Grimy, concrete jungle that smells a lot like your home. But the smoke is thicker and the sky is darker. The skyscrapers are like d a r k tentacles reaching from the body of a forlorn beast. No color. Silent. Like an Italian noir film. This is not the New York that you called home.
Gabriel D’ Angelo. Tsk tsk. Gabriel D’Angelo of all people, here in the tattered vignette of her dreams. They are both decked in the ominous monochrome of her subconscious, walking around the darker, grimier New York of her sleep. She leads the way. The time of day is indecipherable, as if the whole world was trapped in eternal nighttime. Maybe it is around midnight or before dawn? It’s hard to tell. She leads him to a familiar skyscraper, the neon signage signaling her connection to this hard, unforgiving monster of a building. Broken elevator, the sign reads. They climb up the stairs. Funny, she has never recalled the stairs going in spirals. Why does it feel as if they are falling down instead of climbing up?
They have been quiet until now. “I take that you’ve done this before?” She addresses him, slight apprehension in her tone. “Ah only about 40 or so times.” He shrugs, a shadow of a smirk grazing his lips. He swings a heavy piece of metal in one hand, the dark finish glints against the white fluorescent bulb of the stairwell.
The last step leads to a sliding door. The sliding door leads to a wide room. In the wide room stands a man. She enters first. She knows this room well. But in the murky plain of her subconscious, it is both strange and familiar to her. The man is looking at New York through his glass-paneled wall, back facing them. Gabriel wastes no time, utters no words. He takes his bow and with the seasoned hand of a master archer, aims it at the wall. The glass breaks into a million pieces. A warning shot. The man steps back in shock, looks towards them. An arrow finds it way to his side. They come forward. The man writhes in pain, clutches the side of his desk as he collapses to the floor. Why isn’t there any blood on the floor?
“Still breathing,” Cupid whispers to her. She knows what this means. she’s to deliver the coup de grâce. Although at this moment, more vengeful than merciful. He hands her the gun. She does not flinch. Does not falter. Arms straight, she fires the shot towards the man’s temple, in that space between his eyes, just above the bridge of his nose. Now, the blood flows–rich and red, a contrast in that dark monochrome world. She stares, terrified of what she did. Guilt is a void that is rapidly consuming what’s left of her heart. She looks at him, devastated. Gabriel offers no comfort and merely shrugs, “Stop looking at me like that, it’s your fault anyway.” He was right. Her father’s blood is on her hands.
In the final moment of desperation, she aims the gun at her accomplice–unflinching. She wakes up to the sound of her phone alarm.
Veronica has learned to handle Gabriel D’Angelo in the sphere outside her nightmares. In real life, she sometimes forgets that he is a serial killer. Aside from the shady emo kid front, he seems to be slowly developing into what might be deemed, a normal teenager. Although, the fear will always be there. No matter how much she quips about him killing her father, the fear still remains. She happened to sit next to him in one of her classes the morning after she was plagued by that vivid nightmare. “I dreamed we killed my dad, by the way. Then I aimed the gun at you. It was terrible,” she mentioned to him in passing, as if she was only commenting about the state of the weather. He seemed shocked, slightly intrigued. “Don’t be so shocked. It’s your fault I get these horrible nightmares anyway. Fucking psycho,” She joked. Was it really a joke?
[ELYON "ELI" LAURENS] is [23], [HETEROSEXUAL] and [CISMALE]. HE was born on [OCTOBER 26th]. HE lives in [THE BRONX]. HE is from [SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA]. HE is a/an [FLORIST] for a living, and often get told HE looks like [ANSEL ELGORT]. We wish them the best of luck in the city that never sleeps! [Lis!]
Welcome to the Big City, Lis (again)! Please make sure everything on the checklist is in order before sending in your account for Eli in the next 24 hours. We’re so excited to have you here with us!
