please please please let me get what i want

[Emma Lark Rosenburg]

Emma’s eyes lay fixated on the piece of pale, sweaty meat dangling precariously from the corner of a classmate’s mouth. The tension in small things like that bothered her, and as much as watching a slight, pimply girl eating a bologna sandwich repulsed her, she just couldn’t look away. Emma gripped her copy of Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer, which everyone knew was scandalous, probably why she was reading it in public. She loved the satisfying crinkling sound of the cellophane-wrapped library hard-cover books, once of the many reasons she spent a lot of her time here.

Finally, the girl across the room took another bite of her sandwich, a glob of mayo leaching on to her chin. Jesus Christ, Emma thought to herself, and although she wasn’t the hugest fan of Jesus, he was a Jew like her, and they needed to stick together. She was confused by the listlessness of her own thoughts, and even more confused by how that girl got into this school. Maybe she was a townie and just came to use the library? Or maybe she just had money. Usually people with money were the products of good breeding, but not always. Maybe she was new money. Emma shuddered at the thought. She extracted her Chanel Mystic lipstick from her chocolate-brown faux-leather messenger bag, mindlessly reapplying into the quasi-reflective surface of her sleeping iPhone.

I look like hell, she thought to herself, absentmindedly fingering the frayed collar of her Clash t-shirt. As the girl across the room took another bite of her sandwich, lip-smacking gloriously, Emma took that as all the proof she needed that the universe wanted her to take a break. She pulled a package of Parliament lights and a spring-green plastic Bic out of the small periwinkle clutch she kept in her bag and stuffed them in the pockets of her soft, olive cardigan.

Adjusting the black silk ribbon she wore around her hair as a headband, Emma traipsed past the luxurious black oak bookshelves, old world tapestries, and ionic pillars that were the visual landmarks of the gorgeous building she loved so much. Why? Emma wasn’t much of a nerd, although she was intelligent. But libraries were quiet, which meant people talked less, which meant people said less stupid things, particularly words that Emma didn’t particularly appreciate being thrown around. Crossing from the teak floor to the tan ceramic tile of the small atrium, and once again to the sun-baked pavement, Emma found herself outside, the heavy glass door swinging shut behind her. This school was nice, but she missed Bard. A lot.

Emma regarded a small group of students walking out of the library, holding up her hand for a weak wave. She pulled one of the Parliaments out of the packet, clutching it between her lips as she lit and took a long drag. ”I quit, actually,” she said to no one in particular. ”But you know, no one ever really quits.” She smiled and exhaled, checking her iPhone for any new messages as to not look that embarrassing lonely, but to no avail.

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_{tagged !} open

[/sub][/i]
_{word count !} 516[/sub][/i]
_{notes !} sorry loves, i'm a bit rusty[/sub][/i]
[/blockquote][/size]

[Jordan Dredd]

WITH MY FATE, MY THOUGHTS ERASE
MY HEADS A BLUR, THE PICTURE FADES

• • • • • • •

Librarys. Jordan’s worst enemy. There were just so many rows and shelves and carts and stacks of books and they were way too old and dusty and it was just a pain to sort through them to find the books that you needed. That was however long and done, Jordan had been in the library since the early morning, so he had all ready gathered all the books that he needed and was now at the task of actually reading the books and highlighting the useful information. Which was a task all in itself, he didn’t have any cash on him so he actually had to hand write all of the important information, instead of photocopying the pages he needed and then highlighting it from there; his normal approach to any project that demanded book sources. That was the problem, Jordan thought, now everyone wanted a freaking book source because the internet was ‘too easy’ or ‘too unreliable’. Bullshit. Teachers and parents were just pissed that google wasn’t around while they were in school, so they figure why the hell should my kid have it easy? He should have to tough it out like I did, like having to walk to school in fifty feet of snow, uphill both ways, type of thing. Or at least that’s what Jordan had managed to convince himself over the past couple of years, seeing as he wasn’t really a fan of parental units. Especially his own mother, but that was a whole other topic he would rather not get into at any point in time.

Jordan shook his head, letting out a small aggravated sigh as he looked up from the book on the romantic era. Now he was just getting off track, he was reading the words but he was not absorbing any of the information; so there really was not any point in continuing his work right now. He rubbed his eyes and looked around the library, noticing quite a few people that looked out of place in this pretentious library. He himself, he noted, looked out of place. It seemed that everyone here looked very prim and proper, except, wait, one girl who was mowing down a sandwich of some sort. Jordan wrinkled his nose in disgust as he watched her devour the morsel of food before her like she was a starving African child; she may as well just have shoved the whole thing in her mouth at once. Repulsive.

He flicked his gaze away from the girl to his phone, noting that it was way later than he had thought and he had been sitting in that library for way too many hours reading about the stupid romantic era artists. It was time for yet another time consuming paper that was due in his history class and naturally he got stuck with the romantic era, probably one of the most popular and over done eras. “Fuckin’ romantics.” He muttered while shutting the book and shoving it into his bag, along with the three others he had picked up as he decided that it was now time to go home.

Jordan stood up and stretched his muscles, instantly feeling his tense muscles loosen up and sigh with relief. He glanced around, shuddering lightly at how quiet this place actually was; even with hushed murmurs. Packing up the rest of his things he began to exit the lavish library, squinting as the bright sun attacked his sensitive eyes as he stepped through the glass door. His hazel gaze instantly fell to a solitary girl that was apparently talking to herself, or at least he thought that’s what she was doing. There was no one around her and he didn’t see a phone to her ear, yet there she was talking about quitting, rather never actually quitting. With a raised eyebrow he walked around to face the girl, a small interested smile on his lips. “What exactly did you quit?” he asked, just as his eyes landed on the cigarette dangling from her lips. “Oh.” His lips turned up into a small smile. “I’m Jordan, by the way.” He added on, figuring it would be rude of him to not introduce himself.

EYES, THEY KEEP ON SHUTTING DOWN
CAN'T SEE WHY YOU WONT FIGURE ME OUT

• • • • • • •

• Word Count:701
  
• Status: Complete!
  
• Tag: EMMA!
  
• Notes: I thought your post was quite well written actually (:
  
• Music:
  
• Clothes

[Emma Lark Rosenburg]

SHE KNOWS WHICH BIRDS ARE SINGING
AND THE NAMES OF THE TREES WHERE THEY'RE PERFORMING
IN THE MORNING

Emma plucked the cigarette from her lips with the thumb and index finger of her right hand. She regarded the pale, shimmering blotch of lipstick tainting her Parliament’s rigid white filter. Emma loved Parliaments more than Pall Malls (she’d had a brief stint smoking the blue package of PMs because that’s what her literary hero, Kurt Vonnegut, smoked, but Emma had eventually realized that absolutely shit cigarettes were certainly not worth the association, especially when she wasn’t even going to be a writer…it was just a little pathetic), especially because of how crisp the tobacco looked folded into the clean, uniformly white paper tube with the recessed filter that not even the most slobbery of smokers managed to wet. As she rubbed her eye with the back of her left hand, careful not to smudge her impeccably applied eye makeup, and at the same time noticing with the slight pull of her round cheeks that she was a tad sunburned, she overheard a distinctly male voice distinctly talking to her.

She whipped around, the longest strands of her dark ponytail grazing the back of her neck and tickling her ever so slightly. Emma was horribly ticklish, but never told anyone because once they found out they wouldn’t stop touching her. Emma absolutely detested being touched; it was as if every unwanted stroke of a finger resurfaced painful memories tenfold. She shuddered at the thought, gazing into the boy’s hazel eyes listlessly because the business camp her father had sent her to when she was younger for “summer enrichment” had taught her to do so when meeting someone new. But, like at the camp and the rest of her life, Emma half-assed nearly everything. Fully-assing something would never be cool, and besides, it meant she would have to actually care about something, which would be terrifying.

“I quit smoking, sort of, obviously,” she said, regarding the boy with her cigarette. As soon as she said it, she felt stupid and redundant. She continued to gaze forward, but she let her gaze drop to the ground somewhat gracelessly. Had she been someone else, she might have used a phrase as horrible as “screwed the pooch” to describe the interaction, but Emma was not someone else, and did not find such a phrase as crass and linguistically ugly as that appropriate for any situation, let alone this one. As the boy introduced himself as Jordan, Emma extended her arm for a handshake, at this point realizing that her iPhone, lighter, and Parliament packet were in one hand and the burning embers of a cigarette were clutched in the other. In one swift motion that still managed to be painfully awkward, she brought her arm back to her in a circular motion, deposited the Parliament between her lips, and offered her now empty, milky-white hand to the boy.

Emma never really understood handshakes; they were things that happened on TV and at business dinners but never in real life until college, when they seemed to happen all the time for no particular reason. Maybe just at Richie-fucking-rich colleges, like the one she attended. Either way, she had already committed to the polite gesture and intended to go through with it, no matter how ungrounded her feelings really were. “Emma,” she replied, giving a slight nod. “Rosenburg. Emma Rosenburg.” She said this last bit, feeling like a socially inept James Bond. Emma wasn’t socially inept, really, things were just a bit odd after the previous year’s experience. She busied herself with removing her cardigan and expertly tying her long, dark hair into a messy bun, all with the cigarette perched between her lips. Emma had odd rituals and guidelines for herself when it came to smoking and smelling like smoke, her hands with their chipped mermaid-colored polish and shirt were okay, but she couldn’t stand it if her hair or cardigan reeked. Emma listlessly blew her shaggy blunt-cut bangs out of her face. This would be difficult to keep her hair “clean”; she definitely needed a haircut. She brushed her bangs to the side, tucking what she could behind her ear and the rest inside her black ribbon headband, just for now. At least she didn’t have to screw the pooch on everything.

[/sub][/justify]

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_{tagged !} j to the ordan

[/sub]
_{word count ! seven-oh-eight
notes ! sorry i took so long to reply}
[/blockquote][/size]

[Jordan Dredd]

WITH MY FATE, MY THOUGHTS ERASE
MY HEADS A BLUR, THE PICTURE FADES

• • • • • • •

Jordan arched an eyebrow as the girl practically whipped around to meet his gaze directly; it was almost intimidating as much as it was strange. He did not know many people, let alone girls that were confident enough to hold his gaze for more than a few moments. More often than not they would hold his gaze for only a few seconds before averting their eyes quickly to something in the vicinity before allowing them to drift back every so often, only to quickly avert them once again. It was something the boy had grown accustomed to, so that whenever he did come across a person that was not afraid to hold his gaze he often found himself averting his gaze first to become one of the many who were seemingly timid by nature. The boy was far from being timid, quite the opposite actually, he was the sort that would jump at the chance to meet a new person. He was always the child in the sandbox that would share all of his toys, not expecting anyone to give him anything in return but a bright smile and a new friendship. Of course, not everyone was like that, so he respected it, but was glad when he found someone who appeared to be similar in nature to him.

He nodded, a small smile curving his lips up. “Obviously.” He commented, his gaze dropping to the cigarette dangling from the girls mouth. He personally did not smoke, but that did not mean he did not have his own vices to contend with, so he knew something about quitting, well sort of. It was easier said than done, to quite something that is, so when someone was quitting smoking or not going to drink anymore for the betterment of their lives, Jordan did not get upset when there was a relapse. There was no sense in getting upset, it just made things worse. In the end things usually worked themselves out, or at least he had come to find that, which is why he generally let things just run out until some sort of conclusion was formed without too much external pressure. He returned his gaze to the girls face, an amused smile playing on the corner of his lip at her extend hand that contained a variety of things, even though it was no doubt intended for a handshake. He chuckled slightly when she seemed to realize her error and then tried to correct it as smoothly as possible, though it still seemed to be an awkward exchange of items. Jordan slid his own tattooed hand into her blank hand, a charming smile on his lips through the brief shake of hands before he dropped his hand and slid it into his jeans pocket.

It was rare that someone, unless they were an adult or a perspective employer, offered him a hand to shake in greeting. It was almost too respectful, he thought, most kids just greeted each other with a nod of acknowledgement and an exchange of firsts names. Though, this was Luxford so he should have assumed that he would eventually come across a student with manners to match the money that accompanied their name. Jordan’s lips twitched upward in amusement as he was offered her name a la James Bond ”It’s a pleasure to meet you Emma Rosenburg.” He stated, his signature charming grin, a death trap to almost any female within a five meter radius, surfaced briefly before fading away. “So, you’re a James Bond fan?” he inquired, intending to strike up some sort of conversation before it lulled into an awkward silence. That was the trouble with meeting someone new, if there was no immediate sign of a shared interest then he found that most of the time the conversation would turn awkward, with both parties searching for a way to end the conversation gracefully. With an arched eyebrow Jordan watched as she suddenly tied her hair up into a bun before blowing her bags out of her eyes, as if it were a nuisance of sorts. “Time for a hair cut eh?” he observed, regarding the girl curiously. Jordan found something strange about this girl, she was not exactly stuck up like the Luxford stereotype had often seen, but she didn’t exactly project friendliness. He could not quite put his finger on the adjective he would use to describe the girl, but it was almost as if she was very…precise and calculating in her movements and choices of words; like an OCD thing. While he was the opposite, he stood at ease with one knee bent slightly; backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder with one hand in his pocket and the other hanging down at his side.

EYES, THEY KEEP ON SHUTTING DOWN
CAN'T SEE WHY YOU WONT FIGURE ME OUT

• • • • • • •

• Word Count:793
  
• Status: Complete!
  
• Tag: EMMA!
  
• Notes:
  
• Music:no worries, people get busy, it happens.
  
• Clothes

[Emma Lark Rosenburg]

to die by your side would be a heavenly place to die

<sub>Emma pursed her lips as the tiniest hint of a blush made itself present on her apple-like cheeks. With such a round face that so easily turned a dusty pink, Emma usually took great caution to not look like a cherub. Or some Sistine Chapel shit. Michaelangelo was kind of an ass anyway, but Emma wasn’t an art or art history student so this scarcely bothered her. The reason she blushed was the embarrassment creeping in the bushes and threatening to pounce at any moment. She wasn’t awkward, per say, but new social situations were always uncomfortable. Jordan seemed like a nice, friendly guy. So what was the problem? Well, a lot of people seemed like nice, friendly guys…like the nice, friendly guy in her French class at Bard who ruined her life. But a lot of people were decent. But maybe just as many weren’t…

Rousing herself from her thoughts, Emma produced a slightly dimpled smile. “Yeah, Bond. He’s brilliant.” She wanted to smack herself. It was like she couldn’t speak English. Maybe she was being too critical, but it was hard to be confident sometimes (read: ever). “I mean, I like Sean Connery. Actually, they’re all alright,” she mumbled somewhat stupidly. Emma rubbed her eye, feeling it tear from the smoke but resisting the urge to cry out in pain. Now that would be embarrassing. She fluffed her bangs a bit more, stopping abruptly at the mention of needing a haircut. “I suppose it is that time of year again, yes,” she smiled, feeling a bit more secure. “That was a joke,” she added quickly, losing a significant amount of her newly-gained fire. “Although I do suppose it’s necessary to clarify. This is college, after all. I don’t think everyone cuts their hair regularly.” she said finally, then proceeded to notice Jordan’s shaggy hair. “But it’s a great look,” she added quickly, resisting the urge to smack herself across the face.

As the tendrils of smoke from the Parliament began to thin and the embers nearly touched the filter, Emma tossed the cigarette to the ground, stubbing it out with her lemon-yellow patent-leather heels. She toed the butt into the grass, hoping Jordan wouldn’t think she was some spoiled rich kid who felt entitled to litter. She just did things like that sometime. Being rich didn’t make you immune to odd human urges. But he would understand. He had to. He was another Luxford student, after all.

“Do you want to get out of here? I don’t think I can take any more Henry Miller for today,” she found herself saying, then realized that it was odd and he didn’t even know her and she was some total creep, just like all the people she detested. “Or whatever.” Emma added this weakly, then further post-scripted it, “I mean, we can continue this conversation wherever we want. Nobody’s stopping us, right? But I guess I don’t know you to well, care to fill me in a bit?” Emma allowed herself to continue on this odd, completely genuine trail of curiosity. Although Luxford was small, the town of Outlier wasn’t, and she could disappear forever if things went south. Which they probably would. But Emma was tired of being afraid of everything and everyone, so why not take a chance?</sub>

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_{tagged !} jordan
word count ! 550
notes ! sorry if my wc is decreasing, just usually means more dialogue aka more fun :P

[/sub][/blockquote][/size]

[Jordan Dredd]

WITH MY FATE, MY THOUGHTS ERASE
MY HEADS A BLUR, THE PICTURE FADES

• • • • • • •

Jordan momentarily allowed his gaze to drift from the girl the building from which they both left; it was certainly beautiful, and very prestigious, which left him feeling out of place. He did not exactly feel like the type to be wandering around the Luxford campus, he felt more in place over at Balston, where had become close with many people, probably even more so than the people at his own school. He drew his gaze back to Emma, she seemed the type to be wandering the Luxford campus, even if she was almost socially awkward. As he regarded her, he couldn’t help but notice the slightest tint of pink surface, brining a small grin to his own lips. Often, not that he was being conceded or anything, he found himself in the presence of blushing girls. Now whether or not he was the cause was a different story, he liked to think he was mr.charming who could get a girl to blush with a mere glance; but that was just his ego talking. In this instance it was more than likely that she had found the conversation turning awkward, much like he previously had. Either way he didn’t pay too much mind to it, seeing as they were back to talking about Bond.

“Agreed. I think Sean Connery was the best bond.” He stated, nodding his head in accordance with her statement, completely oblivious to the change in confidence. “Well in my humble opinion anyway.” Jordan added as an afterthought, his lips pursed in a small smile. Jordan had the tendency to over look subtle changes in people’s emotions at times, he found it was the best thing to do, just carry on like nothing had changed. While some people were thankful for it, others seemed to comment on it and call him emotionally stunted, which in all likely hood was true; the boy stuck to a few prominent emotions. He did not like to deal with anything too heavy, he liked the lighter emotions like happiness, joy, shit like that, anything heavier and he just became awkward and usually ended up making the situation worse. Jordan cracked a small smile at her comment, as she seemed more at ease. He opened his mouth to comment but was stopped as she quickly added that it was a joke, which he had understood, but apparently she had suddenly felt the need to explain the whole thing. Jordan chuckled lightly, brushing his hand through his hair as she mentioned that the not cut hair look, looks great. “Mhm, yeah, there seems to be a lot of shaggy haired kids running around that are in serious need of a haircut.” He joked, a playful smile on his lips. “I think I wear it pretty well though, don’t you?” he asked jokingly while fluffing up his hair lightly, trying to lighten up the situation.

The boy barely even noticed as the girl snubbed out the cigarette and kicked it into the grass, he had many friends that smoked so he barely even noticed their lack of regard for not littering. He used to comment on it, but he soon realized people were going to do whatever they wanted, and annoying comments from him would not change that. Jordan shrugged his shoulders, adjusting his bag as he lifted his gaze back to the girl as she spoke. He smiled at her offer. “sure.” He answered casually, entirely certain that she would feel the need to explain further. He bit back a small chuckle as she did elaborate, though he did allow a warm smile to turn his lips up in hopes that it would reassure her that he did not think of her as a creep or anything absurd. “Yeah, sure.” He began looking at her, before turning his gaze back to a path and gesturing for them to walk that way. “Well, you know my name, Jordan, I’m a sophomore here, majoring in business, minoring in art history.” He explained, pursing his lips lightly, trying to think of what to tell her. “I like cats, I think they’re cool, I have a half brother and I probably have more friends at Balston University than I do here at Luxford.” He added through a small laugh, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes. “Oh and I’m kinda weird, if you couldn’t all ready tell.” He concluded, shaking his head lightly. “What about you? Are you as strange as I am?” he teased lightly, a silly grin on his lips.

EYES, THEY KEEP ON SHUTTING DOWN
CAN'T SEE WHY YOU WONT FIGURE ME OUT

• • • • • • •

• Word Count:757
  
• Status: Complete!
  
• Tag: EMMA!
  
• Notes:aha no worries, sounds good to me xD
  
• Music:Billy Talent
  
• Clothes

[Emma Lark Rosenburg]

I know you know just what you like
And I am really not your thing

<sub>Emma yanked on the simple black band holding the dark force that was her dark hair hostage on the back of her head. As her slightly waved locks came tumbling down her back, she turned again to Jordan. “The shaggy look, right,” she said, smiling and regarding her own numerous split ends. ”It is the best look, after all.” She started to feel a little bit better, but then realized that she’d forgotten most of her stuff inside only after suggesting they stretch their legs a bit. How blatantly uncool. “Um,” she mumbled, “I need to go grab something inside quick. Wait here, or come, or whatever,” she said quickly, turning on the heel of her bright yellow oxford before even waiting for the boy’s response.

What the hell am I doing? she thought to herself, speeding through the sprawling, elegant shelves of the Luxford library. I don’t trust people. I especially don’t trust men. What is this fucking “making friends” business anyway? As her thoughts raced, so did Emma, until she finally returned to her favorite study table tucked away in the history section. While she was a bit reluctant, it was also incredibly rude to make the boy wait. He seemed nice enough, anyway. She grabbed her chocolate brown messenger bag from its perch on the chair next to her, dropped her cigarettes, lighter, and iPhone into a smaller pocket, and then in one sweeping motion, shoved her pens, planner, and Henry Miller novel into the main pocket of the bag, whipping it around her body and bringing it to rest atop her right shoulder. Before leaving the library, she gave the room a quick scan, her eyes falling again atop the girl who was eating the sweaty sandwich earlier. She had since moved on to greasy potato chips in a flimsy zip-lock bag and sour neon gummy worms. Emma furrowed her brow, giving the girl the most hateful look she could possibly conjure on a moment’s notice, and stormed out of the library, wondering the whole time if Jordan would have left while she was gone.

Alas, he had not. After the last of her long strides, Emma stopped next to him, her feet “sticking it” in an almost military way, leftover from her days of high school cheerleading. She felt a bit out of place at Luxford in only her study clothes, a faded Clash t-shirt and charcoal Gap 1969 jeggings (although she could afford a better brand name, nothing beat the fit and feel of Gap 1969. Some good denim was just good denim, no matter the source). Besides, nothing looked more out of place than Jordan, who clearly belonged at Balston (at least by choice). Or, that was what he said. ”Now what were you saying? she asked, smiling warmly with her mouth closed. Emma listened to Jordan’s brief introduction, surprisingly engrossed. He did actually seem like a really cool guy. She smiled when asked to introduce herself properly. He was actually very polite. “I’m Emma, as I already said,” she said again, beginning to take steps on the path he had gestured to. “I’m also a sophomore here, and I’m majoring in economics and minoring or double-majoring, if I have the time, in political science. I was sort of hoping there’d be a public policy program here. Maybe I can start one,” she thought aloud, then continued, “I also like cats, I would love to have one when I move off-campus. I have a really silly older brother and sister, um, I’m from Wisconsin,” she continued, trying not to be too boring. “And I don’t really have any friends anywhere, here or Balston. I just transferred this year from Bard and only moved to Outlier about a month ago. Not yet used to the hot weather,” she commented, demonstrating this by stuffing the olive cardigan that had previously been being strangled by her left hand into her messenger bag. She reached for another Parliament and the lighter, but before lighting, asked, “Do you mind? I like to smoke and talk. And as far as my weirdness, I suppose that’s up to you to decide,” she smiled and then made a face. Maybe this would be okay.</sub>

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_{tagged !} jordan
word count ! 703
notes ! should we plot them?
lyrics ! diamond rings

[/sub][/blockquote][/size]

[Jordan Dredd]

WITH MY FATE, MY THOUGHTS ERASE
MY HEADS A BLUR, THE PICTURE FADES

• • • • • • •

Jordan could not help but allow his smile turn the corner up his lips up just a bit more as Emma took out the hair band that was keeping her hair up, demonstrating her own shaggy look. Personally he thought that she looked good with her hair slightly shaggy, as she so aptly put it. “You wear the look well.” he complimented, a charming smile on his face. It would have been against his nature to not comment on her hair being down, especially since he always loved when a girl wore her hair down. Jordan raised an eyebrow at her quick change of demeanor, she had gone from smiling to mumbling in no time. At her explanation he found himself nodding, showing that he was actually paying attention, but realized that she had all ready turned on her heels and probably not seen his acknowledgment. “I’ll wait!” he called after her as he watched her disappear into the building, not sure that she even heard him.

It was not a big deal that she had left her stuff in the building and was now going to retrieve it before they began their little walk, he didn’t really care that he had to wait, it was just that he was not sure if she was actually going to come back or not. If she didn’t it would not have been the first time that a girl had made up some excuse to cease talking to him and it probably would not be the last either; sometimes he had that effect on people. Jordan briefly passed his hand over the silver owl hanging from his neck, a small bit of reassurance surfaced and he dropped his hand back to his pocket. Jordan was pretty sure that Emma was going to return with her things and not leave him standing there like some sort of dumbass because that would be entirely rude and he just didn’t get that vibe from Emma. So far she seemed nice enough, maybe a little guarded but he supposed she had a right to be, there were some pretty weird people running around this campus and he looked out of the ordinary so he understood that there was probably some hesitance on wanting to hang out with him.

Kicking absently at the ground he found himself whistling a small tune as he watched a bit of dust kick up, entertaining him just enough so that he wasn’t too bored while waiting for the girl to return. A pair of bright yellow shoes entered his downcast vision, causing him to look up, his eyes landing on Emma. A smile returned to his lips, he had worried himself for no reason, he felt slightly silly now that the girl was standing in front of him. He should learn to trust what people say more, though that was easier said then done. He had been hurt more than once by allowing himself to believe over and over that someone was going to do what they said; not everyone was as good as their word. As Emma asked for him to continue with what he was saying he did, almost not remembering the question in the first place; he had a bit of a short memory at times. Once finished he looked at her a small closed mouth smile on his lips, curious to see how she would introduce herself to him, probably in a similar fashion. Jordan nodded along, making sure to show that he was paying attention, because he had a tendency to stare off when he was listening to someone speak, making it look like he was disinterested. Which in this case, was far from the truth, the girl actually seemed like someone he would find in his circle of friends. “By my guest.” he commented, answering her question about her smoking, he didn’t really mind. “It’s a good thing you like cats, I don’t know that we could be friends if you didn’t.” he joked, a playful smile on his face as he glanced at her, his mind all ready onto the next thing. “Is Wisconsin the place with the building made out of cheese? Or am I getting that confused for something that I saw in a t.v show?” he thought out loud, directing his gaze to the path in front of them. Jordan was a strange boy, going from one thing to another, and then back again, he had a some what sporadic train of thought, but to him it made sense, “Wait, Bard, I thought that was like an arts school in New York or something?” he mused out loud, looking at Emma curiously, expecting her to answer his sporadic ramblings.

EYES, THEY KEEP ON SHUTTING DOWN
CAN'T SEE WHY YOU WONT FIGURE ME OUT

• • • • • • •

• Word Count:798
  
• Status: Complete!
  
• Tag: EMMA!
  
• Notes:gosh, sorry for the wait. things have been...troubleseome. But yes, lets plot them. Did you have anything in mind? Oh and feel free to PM me, I'll respond faster there xD
  
• Music:
  
• Clothes

[Emma Lark Rosenburg]

I wanna have friends that I can trust

[/color][/i]
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<sub>Emma was definitely used to sporadic bits of conversation, and she smiled warmly as it reminded her of her friends back home. They’d had this theory that there were “linear thinkers” and “non-linear thinkers”: linear thinkers were those who went through a conversation like driving down a one-lane country road – what’s more linear than that? – and didn’t understand when other people could easily revisit past topics and flit between thoughts seamlessly like a bee collecting nectar. Emma fancied herself a more non-linear thinker, and, glad to have a friend who thought like her, followed Jordan’s conversation logic just fine.

She held the Parliament delicately between her index and middle fingers, feeling a bit like an old film star, minus her outfit, the surroundings, her companion, and her cheap plastic lighter – okay, so maybe she wasn’t quite an old film star. Her lighter said “D.A.R.E.” on it, with the subtitle “Dare to resist the war on drugs”. She’d gotten it at her old school’s Students for a Sensible Drug Policy. She tossed the lighter and crumpled packet back into her bag, and asked “Hey, is there an SSDP here? I was part of one at Bard and it was totally the best,” she went on, not really realizing she hadn’t answered any of his questions until it was too late. “But Bard, yeah. Uh, Wisconsin is stereotyped for some stuff about cheese, I don’t pay too much attention. I’m from Madison, which is a total college town, and that’s nice, because I feel pretty at home here – minus everything being all ‘California’, of course,”, she added, only somewhat bitterly. “It was nice to get away,” she added wistfully, before jumping right back into the conversation. “But right, Bard is this liberal arts college in rural New York. I always really wanted a small school and a liberal arts education, and while Bard isn’t Ivy League, it was totally perfect. But yeah, I only lasted a year,” she added quickly, upon realizing that she didn’t want to get into the reasons she left with her new friend quite so quickly.

“I decided to come to a big school to be anonymous, and I couldn’t be one of those people that came home after a year, even though University of Wisconsin is a great school. I figured moving away out here would be the quickest way to get as far as possible, and it’s been treating me alright so far.” She finished talking, taking a long drag on her Parliament and turning to Jordan. The combination of smoking and walking always made her talk fast and say things she sometimes didn’t want to. ”So where are you really from?” she asked coyly, trying to distract attention from herself.</sub>

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that love me for the man I've become, not the man that I was

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_{Tagged: Jordan!
Word Count: 455
Outfit: Here!
Lyrics: The Perfect Space - The Avett Brothers
Notes: Starting to go back to shorter with more dialogue, that way we can move this along more? Sound okay?}

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