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Post by Pierre Antoine Giroux on May 29, 2011 15:40:15 GMT -5
I’m told that people like to call us dreamers
Because we won’t ever stop until we’ve done all we can do
There are so many things I haven’t seen
So I’ll look ’till I just can’t look no more
The hell is that? Pierre wondered, eyes widening as he sees the black and purple portal- yes, it was a portal, he saw some of the kids in his transport class make those before- growing outward from his hand. This is new, this is unexpected, how in the world? Some kids, he knew, had more than one power, but they had all found their second one at least by junior year. He hadn't, so he had assumed that was all he was going to get-
but here he was, shoving his step-brother down a portal and being dragged in with him.
They fell into the dark, falling and falling. Pierre didn't know where they were going, when they would stop, and he reached out blindly like Alice in the rabbit hole, looking for something to stop the fall. He hand began glowing again, this time with the pastels of a landscape, this new circle engulfing both him and Olivier, and they fell through, landing in a bale of hay. Pierre groaned, rolling onto his back. This was absolutely wonderful.
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Post by Olivier Adrien du Bois on May 30, 2011 9:18:51 GMT -5
OLIVIER DU BOIS
But oh no, it's alright
Mr. Maker, he'll be fine
It's alright, it's okay
Because of the love he gave away
The colors swirl round and round, blue and purple and flashes of silver… Oh, god make it stop, make it stop, make it stop, make it stop! Pierre’s hand falls from his grasp, his hands curling around his head.
Sudden light flares behind his eyes, bright, pink. His eyelids fly open, hands spreading out as if he is sky-diving. Oh god, the ground, it’s right there! Pleasepleaseplease don’t let me die.
The air is knocked out of him as he smashes into the corner of a bale of hay, face-first. He coughs, desperately trying to suck in air. He tumbles off of the bale, landing on his back a few feet below Pierre. Olivier sits straight up, wrapping his arms around his ribcage.
“You bastard.” he snarls.
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Post by Pierre Antoine Giroux on Jun 7, 2011 9:19:01 GMT -5
I’m told that people like to call us dreamers
Because we won’t ever stop until we’ve done all we can do
There are so many things I haven’t seen
So I’ll look ’till I just can’t look no more
"Good morning to you too, sunshine," Pierre snaps, trying the paw the stars out of his vision. It wasn't working. He groaned again, biting back several four letter words in English and their French equivalents. And there was freaking straw down his shirt. Hell.
He sits up gingerly, staring at his fingers, still glowing a bit, but less every second. How the hell did that happen? He turns it over, half expecting a glowing birthmark or some cheesy shit like that. Still normal on that side, thank God. He slaps both hands to his face, just to check and see if there was any more of that portal left. The answer was no, and he had no idea how to get home.
"Where the hell are we?" he mutters, slowly rising to his feet. Farm. At least, it looked like a farm. There was a barn and there was hay and everything. Um.
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Post by Olivier Adrien du Bois on Jun 10, 2011 17:52:57 GMT -5
OLIVIER DU BOIS
But oh no, it's alright
Mr. Maker, he'll be fine
It's alright, it's okay
Because of the love he gave away
Olivier drags a hand down his face, rubbing away the falling straw particles that had landed there. He watches as his stepbrother gets to his feet. And asks where they are. Perfect.
“Great. You mean you don’t know. That’s just effing perfect, Giroux. I didn’t think I could hate you any more, but it seems I can.” He links his hands behind his head, dropping down with a muffled sound onto his back. If Pierre thinks that Olivier is going to help him in the slightest, he’s got something coming to him.
A tiny whirlwind appears above Olivier’s upturned face.
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