#soundofmirror

[rossalbas]

I THOGUHT U ALEREAYD HAD PERSONal

SCREW MY PERSONA L IT HAS TOO MANY FOLLOWERS

[choirtunedsailor]

..a new page has turned..~ [soundofmirror]

The weight of the air-- it's tangible, he's so very sure of this much. Enough to place stress on his mind and give him the inability to sing correctly, there's wonderment in every little mistake he makes. Because he has to pause, always has to pause and ponder just why that happened. Was it because he thought about home? Or how much he hated his managers? Did his scar sting a bit? Or was he just not focusing?

Each one is troublesome. Each one is amazing, it deepens his will to perfect the music but at the same time, crushes him. Yet for now, he has to set his microphone down. Cut off recording studio equipment.

Out of time for today. Oh, how much he dreads the cutoff, as much as he has come to enjoy it as well.

An agitated sigh and the boy throws the recording studio door open, having thrown caution to the wind. Yet a noise of shock on the other end of the slab of metal scares the hell out of him; and he jumps, about shrieks himself before checking who he had assaulted with the door and...

"..Oh- Oh my God! Are you o-okay?!"

[youngappleprincess]

(((Yeah you two this is a good point. Who would kidnap Yuki and trap her in a castle filled with classic Hollywood deathtraps?)))

[youngappleprincess]

(((My phone is being difficult but I'll be home soon. But really, I leave for two hours and Yuki gets kidnapped? Who did the thing?!)))

[yangire-rin]

soundofmirror has entered the garden

"Welcome and please enjoy your stay~!"

[neuroticsynth]

                 Innocence is but a fragile state of bliss                                 not meant for those who fall into an abyss.                  He who wears the same face as himself is no man at all                                 but a man of many faces, a man of different phases.                      "Yo....thanks for visiting," he would greet,                                                                                monotone pressing his tongue.                                            One wonders why his eyes empty from their oceanic stars. The boy only raises a hand out to his similar, a supposed gesture built for greeting, however the formality in his movement is too stiff for his liking.                                                            One may grow weary of drowning                                                                                              in an endless sea of yellow.