Post by Deleted on Jan 25, 2015 19:17:31 GMT -5
OOC: post will "bounce off" the lyrics of People Like Us by Kelly Clarkson (MetroLyrics). Thread is open to everyone
IC:
Warren had gone for a flight in the cool morning San Francisco air, but his path took him to a place he really wished like hell he'd avoided. He'd been going back and forth between his more angelic state and the blue-hued Horseman of Death that everyone would have loved to see disappear once more.
But looking up at the Sentinel that was part of the Mutant Kitsch art exhibit in downtown San Francisco made him realize that the demon might be more necessary in days ahead than the gentle soul.
((I can't believe this is happening here)) he thought as he pulled out his ear buds and tucked his iPhone back in his pocket. His blonde hair and playboy good looks were on display at the moment, but that could all turn on a dime. His wings, of course, were there for everyone to see.
As he picked up one of the programs for the exhibit, Warren heard a young woman outside the gallery strumming a guitar and singing a song he'd heard the students playing in the rec room one night.
Oh woah oh oh woah oh
We are all misfits living in a world on fire
Oh woah oh oh woah oh
Sing it for the people like us, the people like us
Hey, this is not a funeral
It's a revolution, after all your tears have turned to rage
Just wait, everything will be okay
Even when you're feeling like it's going down in flames
Ohh
As he dug in his pocket and pulled out a 20 for the singer, he thought on the lyrics. "People like us indeed," he said as the young woman looked up and smiled at him. She was most definitely a mutant, but no one seemed to be all that stunned by her exotic appearance. "Please, keep playing."
The young woman brushed her hair back and started to strum her guitar once more.
People like us we've gotta stick together
Keep your head up nothing lasts forever
Here's to the damned, to the lost and forgotten
It's hard to get high when you're living on the bottom
Oh woah oh oh woah oh
We are all misfits living in a world on fire
Oh woah oh oh woah oh
Sing it for the people like us, the people like us
((I guess I better go in and see this exhibit)) Warren thought as he dropped a donation in the box at the door and made his way inside.
IC:
Warren had gone for a flight in the cool morning San Francisco air, but his path took him to a place he really wished like hell he'd avoided. He'd been going back and forth between his more angelic state and the blue-hued Horseman of Death that everyone would have loved to see disappear once more.
But looking up at the Sentinel that was part of the Mutant Kitsch art exhibit in downtown San Francisco made him realize that the demon might be more necessary in days ahead than the gentle soul.
((I can't believe this is happening here)) he thought as he pulled out his ear buds and tucked his iPhone back in his pocket. His blonde hair and playboy good looks were on display at the moment, but that could all turn on a dime. His wings, of course, were there for everyone to see.
As he picked up one of the programs for the exhibit, Warren heard a young woman outside the gallery strumming a guitar and singing a song he'd heard the students playing in the rec room one night.
Oh woah oh oh woah oh
We are all misfits living in a world on fire
Oh woah oh oh woah oh
Sing it for the people like us, the people like us
Hey, this is not a funeral
It's a revolution, after all your tears have turned to rage
Just wait, everything will be okay
Even when you're feeling like it's going down in flames
Ohh
As he dug in his pocket and pulled out a 20 for the singer, he thought on the lyrics. "People like us indeed," he said as the young woman looked up and smiled at him. She was most definitely a mutant, but no one seemed to be all that stunned by her exotic appearance. "Please, keep playing."
The young woman brushed her hair back and started to strum her guitar once more.
People like us we've gotta stick together
Keep your head up nothing lasts forever
Here's to the damned, to the lost and forgotten
It's hard to get high when you're living on the bottom
Oh woah oh oh woah oh
We are all misfits living in a world on fire
Oh woah oh oh woah oh
Sing it for the people like us, the people like us
((I guess I better go in and see this exhibit)) Warren thought as he dropped a donation in the box at the door and made his way inside.