midnight recollections [pierre]

[jeydon alexandre lansing;]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 380px; border-left: 20px solid #7a9aa9; background-image:url(http://i583.photobucket.com/albums/ss279/legendskseeker/fk5qwnjpg.png); padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom: 20px;] Senseless Denial, We spun like birds on fire right down towards the residence and i I took all that I desired even crooks have to pay the rent We swam like rats on fire right, right down the reservoir We took all that we could carry but we tried to carry more He wouldn't lie. It was probably a dicky move to be snapping pictures of a couple of whom he didn't know, and they responded with a glare, and a grumble, before sticking their tongues down each other's throats once more, happily sucking out their own internal organs. It was just a perfect image though. They soon parted ways, and Jeydon was once more left alone pacing the stage area, probably sometime after twelve at night. It wasn't that he couldn't sleep, he just loved the night time. The cool breeze relaxed him, and he just loved the appearance of the sky. His eyes slid shut as he leaned against the temporary stage, head lolling back. His hand slyly slid to the pack of cigarettes placed deep into his back pocket, but he decided against lighting up one of the deadly cancer sticks. He wasn't in any stress or anything, so why did he need to smoke right now? Maybe a craving for the chemicals that tainted his air every time he breathed in, but he shoved the need aside, happily laying out like nothing could happen. It was so quiet- so serene- he didn't want to ruin it. He doubted anyone else could. It allowed him to be alone with his thoughts for a bit, although he didn't mind. He was usually pressed up to a stage, taking pictures of the bands that were up there, listening to the screams of hundreds of fan girls, wishing they could be up on that stage. He liked the moments where a pin drop could be heard. The stage was so much different when it wasn't mobbed. It was actually nice. He snapped a picture of one of the rows of lights above him, honestly just wasting film as he thought. Maybe he'd catch something different for once. His body shifted up and jolted when he heard footsteps, leaping up and looking around, gritting his teeth. Oh great, another person with the same idea. Jey really wasn't in a dealing-with-people kind of mood, and his icey eyes showed that. They were filled with a certain harshness that read as, “I want to be left alone right now.” He knew he wasn't going to be that fortunate, but how he wished on the lucky stars above him that he could just sit back, relax, and maybe smoke a bit before heading back to the buses. God knew that wasn't going to happen. 407 words, tagged for pierre, i apologize for the fail

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TEMPLATE BY KHRISTIAN OF CAUTION 2.0, LYRICS BY MODEST MOUSE[/center]

[pierre cyrille de lamarliere;]

Pierre was a little tipsy, he knew that the all the drinks were spiked but he never thought the food would be too. Of course, even after figured it out he still ate it and started to shamelessly flirt with random girls. It was easy with a charming smile and persuasive words. Though he was tipsy, he wasn't full blown drunk, just enough to unwind and relax. The paparazzi were everywhere and he had to bust his ass just to make sure nothing scandalous would be on the front cover of some tabloid.

With a slight yawn he shuffled through the curtain and into the backstage. Pierre honestly had no idea why he was there nor the reason he was brought there by his feet. All he wanted was a bit of quiet, loud music still rang in his ears. After all, everyone should have went out or something it was midnight after all. The bus was filled with noisy girls, and it made him appreciate the fact that he was an only child growing up. They were loud go say the least, either having a girls night or coming back drunk and noisy. He just wanted peace and maybe a nap on the dirty floor but that was optional. Seeing a guy there already he was going to turn tail and run, the aura coming off the guy screamed, 'Don't fuck with me unless you value you your life'. Pierre, with his gigantic ego, came to the conclusion he would be an exception with him being Pierre and all. So, he flopped onto a rusted foldable chair and rested his head onto the table next to it. Fuck obeying people's privacy and the fact the guy had a camera.  He was going to sit here and wait the haziness out or faint from exhaustion whichever came first.

That was when Pierre realized that the man was smoking a cancer stick. His nose wrinkled as the smoke traveled into his breathing space, he was never a fan of the smell. All he could muster was a feeble glare at the cigarette and wished he didn't eat the food that was served. The man's attitude/aura still freaked the shit out of him. 

-TAG- JEYYYYYY
-WORDCOUNT- Shit, I don't know but it was pretty short ._.
-NOTES- Forgive my post? I have no clue where this is gonna go btw.
-MUSE- I think I have it xD actually yeah I do

[jeydon alexandre lansing;]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 380px; border-left: 20px solid #7a9aa9; background-image:url(http://i583.photobucket.com/albums/ss279/legendskseeker/fk5qwnjpg.png); padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom: 20px;] Senseless Denial, We spun like birds on fire right down towards the residence and i I took all that I desired even crooks have to pay the rent We swam like rats on fire right, right down the reservoir We took all that we could carry but we tried to carry more He heard the rusty clang of one of the extra chairs being set up and he muttered under his breath, glancing back and taking the appearance of the guy in. He seemed tired, and kind of sloppy. Trying to sober up before going back to the buses? He took another long drag, narrowing his eyes a bit, blowing the smoke in his direction when he noticed his face was a bit screwed up. Maybe that would get him away. Slowly he turned around, and pulled himself up onto the stage, raising an eyebrow to the man. “What, can you not sleep or something?” His deep voice rumbled in his chest, and he rose both eyebrows now, hoping he'd manage to get the man to go away. He took another drag of the cigarette, ashing the extra burnt material off the tip. He took the guy in again, now closer. He was a looker, probably had girls swooning over him all night. Then why the hell wasn't he in some girl's bedroom, or his own bunk right now enjoying his time? Most of the people on the tour were complete self-center whores; but that was show biz, right? At least for the most part. Backstabbers, assholes, people got paid to be arrogant. It made the fluids in his stomach bubble in pure disgust. There were times where he completely envied those self-centered dickwads, making oodles of money and being praised for every right and wrong thing they did... but truly all he felt was pity. And the twinge of alcohol that the guy gave off made the pity grow stronger. Was that what he needed for a good time? A few shots and a few girls? He really shouldn't have been making assumptions like he was, but that was his nature. He simply looked at a person and judged them, simply because that's what most did to him when they heard about his scary background story. Jey held out a hand, deciding to be a bit civil with the tipsy man in front of him. “I'm Jeydon, Photographer for Lips Like Morphine.” His head tilted, and he looked at the man with question, “You are?” 364 words, tagged for pierre, 0oh my god, this is the worst post i've ever written, im so sorry D:

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TEMPLATE BY KHRISTIAN OF CAUTION 2.0, LYRICS BY MODEST MOUSE[/center]

[pierre cyrille de lamarliere;]

Pierre debated weather or not he should just ignore the man and pretend to sleep. The dreaded, disgusting smoke glided into his personal bubble. Instead of a verbal response, he simply shook his head. It wasn't if he couldn't just spend some time with a pretty girl from the party, it was the fact that his mother just chewed him out on how he should stop sleeping around just hours ago. He was a manwhore in self-denial and it was going to stay that way.

He completely threw away the gentlemanly layer of him and kept to being rude by not verbally responding to the man, nor was he actually truly paying attention him. He burrowed his head down into his arms and let out a slight groan. He started to curse at the food, a mixture of his beloved French and English coming out of his mouth. Pierre's head was in a slight blur, he knew what he was saying but he didn't know in which language exactly. He was luckily able to hold his alcohol well enough, but he hated how it fogged his mind. He rather enjoyed being able to think clearly.

Even if the man seemed to one of those irritable people who liked to push and irk people, he played nice though. He wasn't one to be quick to judge though, and so he pushed it off the idea that the he was a complete a-hole. Maybe he's actually friendly, Pierre thought, holding on to the childish idea that everyone was good on the inside. ”Pierre, Matchwork,” he stated, peeking slightly up and grabbed Jeydon's hand. He was only slightly tipsy, it wasn't like his hand-eye coordination was off yet. He was far to 'awesome' for that. ”Why are you here?” If Jeydon was going to be civil with him, he might as well be civil back. By civil he meant avoiding awkward silence by making a conversation, which was also code for: no I'm not leaving anytime soon, now why don't we avoid trying to kill each other by talking.

-Notes I just noticed how much huge ass font makes me OCD...
-'Noter Note My post is worse xD Though I'm sure I written worse when I was younger
-WC Short -shot-
-Tag aunt Jeydon
-Muse Dun know but I'm hyper with these ridiculously long end notes
-Random Fact Did you know the smoking age in France is 18? and in Japan 20?

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