rolling in the deep;; [PIERRE]

[katja dione dietrich;]

there's a fire starting in my heart

reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i53.tinypic.com/wb98wn.jpg');,true] ROLLING IN THE DEEP ! Katja shoved her slender hands into the pockets of her simplistic grey jacket. It was just past noon in the day and after spending most of the morning fidgeting with her bass guitar she'd decided it was time to take a bit of a break. Hence the idea of a walk in the local park had come to mind. Before coming to the U.S a few years ago Katja had spent many hours in parks in her beloved Berlin, Germany. In Kat's opinion, nothing could beat the exquisite parks that were nestled in the city. For all her European culture that she'd embraced, nature was perhaps the biggest. Drawing in a breath she moved slowly through the parks' entrance, her soft hues taking in the serenity the park was offering. It was in places like these that the German girl was able to fully appreciate the little things in her life. Since going on tour so much had changed for her, and now her band and her were finally being noticed while at the same time attempting to have a semi-normal senior year. Grinning Katja selected a plain bench to set herself on. For once she'd left her trusty iPod behind her, choosing instead to really pay attention to her surroundings. The air wasn't as terribly chilly as it had been that morning. Katja leaned back against the bench, long black locks spread about her shoulders and a soft smile caressing her face as she closed her eyes. It had been a late night the night before and she honestly hadn't slept so well. Instead she'd tossed and turned in her bed before giving up and deciding to just get up. A noise caught Kat's attention from her state of relaxation. Opening her heavy lids once more the dark haired girl let out a yelp along with a string of German curses. "Scheisse! Geh kacken!" The words flew from her rosen lips as she first used the normal term of 'shit' and then 'get lost' as the dog that had jumped upon the bench and stuck his face near hers eyed her soulfully. Jumping from her seat on the bench she put her hands on her lean hips, attempting to glare yet ending up smiling at the rueful dog. "Get going now eh'! I'm sure yer owner is missin' ya!" Her low vocals left her lips, her deep German accent sneaking it's way into her English. Katja stood, staring/smiling at the dog who merely wagged his tail seemingly happy about the fact that he was the object of her annoyance. 429 WORDS , PIERRE , SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO GET THIS UP!

table by california dreaming @ caution 2.0

[pierre cyrille de lamarliere;]

Pierre missed these things, the things being foliage. Yes, America had plenty of them but their cities lacked the green he was used to seeing at every angle. Though Paris was a city he swore they had more trees then some of the places he had been to America. He missed the buildings, the food, the familiar aura it gave off, one thing he didn't expect to happen while exploring America was homesickness. He spent most of his life in France, why would he miss it? When he was younger he spent hours on end yearning to see the world outside his country. Pierre now missed every bit of his country, the food here would never be able to match true French food and never found a chance to talk in his proper tongue to anyone. He was a foreigner here and he found that he despised it. They easily pinpointed him as one with his accent that no matter how hard he tried he could never hide it fully and his habits.

One moment Pierre was walking out to meet the beautiful warmth of the sunlight the next he had grass stains and the wind knocked out of him. "Merde!" He shouted praying to the sky that his voice didn't sound like a little girl. He was face to face with a dog, a very big dog that seemed to be entertained with liking his face off. Shutting his eyes he silently pushed the dog off and grabbed it's leash. His face was coated with saliva. He didn't dislike animals exactly appreciated it when they decided to bounce onto him sixty pounds and all. Determined to find the owner he got up and brushed himself off. He started to mutter a few not kid-friendly words under his breath as he started to walk making the dog walk else it would get choked and dragged.

Pierre saw a girl and a dog a few feet away from her. Maybe this one is hers as well? He thought to himself, praying that it was so he could run away. "Is this your dog madam?" He asked holding the blue leash up as emphasis and a pointer pointing to the dog who was having fun drooling on the floor in puddles. All this was happening while his face was shiny from drool and a stick and a few leaves were stuck in his hair.

-TAG- KATJA
-WORDS- Around 4oo?
-NOTES- Sorry this took so long and it's kind bleh x.x! D:
-MUSE- I FOUND IT...SORTA

[katja dione dietrich;]

there's a fire starting in my heart

reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i53.tinypic.com/wb98wn.jpg');,true] ROLLING IN THE DEEP ! The dog continued to grin at Katja, obviously begging for her affection. She'd never owned a dog before, and found them to be a nuisance though the scraggy mutt grinning at her now was slightly endearing. Offering a slight smile towards the dog Katja quickly rose from her seat on the bench as the dog moved to jump at her. Huffing and tossing a quick glance around the park filled with many other people Katja spotted a man heading towards her with another scraggy mutt, this one at least had a collar and least. When he came close enough and began speaking Katja offered a large grin, her white teeth clearly viewable as she guessed they were in the same position with the mutts. His vocals were different then most Americans, it was easy for her to tell that he was certainly not American. His tones were lighter, his words slightly rolled in an endearing manner. Given the fact that Katja had spent fifteen years of her life in Germany and was a citizen there, she could easy spot a French accent as the country bordered hers and trips to the City of Lights had been numerous. "Hallo. An' nein. Neither of these mutts being ta me." As she spoke in her deep, husky vocals she motioned to the two dogs, a bemused smile coating her pale pink lips. Katja let out a laugh at the sight of the male now that she'd had time to study him. Twigs and bits of grass were stuck in his hair and he was covered in grass stains. It was easy for her to surmise that the mutt was the cause of his appearance. "Here, let me help ye." Katja's accent pulled at her lyrics, deepened her vocals and caused her lyrics to be slurred. Moving to reach up to help rid him of the twigs and grass without a second though Katja felt comfort in the presence of another European. Often times she'd felt a little upset at how American's seemed to shy away from having a stranger near them and their ridiculous need for 'bubble' space. She'd spent three years in the country and still felt confused about this custom. "I'm Katja Dietrich, from Germany if ye hadn't guessed. An' ye? I can tell yer from France eh?" 385 WORDS , PIERRE , HAHA IT'S ALRIGHT, I <3'D YOUR POST!

table by california dreaming @ caution 2.0

[pierre cyrille de lamarliere;]

Pierre looked back at the huge dog and said, "Sit," his voice firm yet gentle which brought out his accent. He had two dogs at home, though he was never exactly on best friend terms with them. They were more his mother's then anything, the way she coddled and spoiled them. He, on the other hand stuck to tending with cats but had experience with the dogs when forced to walk them (well actually they tugged on the leash and Pierre had to break out to a sprint to avoid faceplanting the cement and being dragged, but that's besides the point) and knew a few tricks.

The dog responded by sitting down at his feet, mud-coloured eyes looked up at him waiting for a reward. He silently reached down and patted the dog's black fur before returning back to the girl. "Well, that's unfortunate. Maybe they have the same owners? I suggest we stick together until someone claims them else it may be a hassle to look for two separate people," he replied not exactly wanting to leave the poor dog alone with its puppy dog face and all. As the girl began to take twigs and leaves out of his hair, he shot her a grin and gave a quick thanks.

Pierre pinpointed that the girl was a European and her introduction just proved his point. He was happy that he wasn't the only one in this new country. "Hey, I'm Pierre. Nice to meet you, Katja! Ah, I am French and you're German, it's an interesting place, I've been there a couple times, it's nice to get away from Parisian life. If it's not rude to ask, why did you come to America?" He was honestly curious, and loved to hear the reasons why people came here, though some were tragic others were inspiring and heart-warming. He remembered Germany quite well since he visited the country not that long ago. After all he was't just confined to Paris, he traveled all around Europe just never really across the ocean.

Reaching back down, he gave the dog a quick pat on the head again and gripped the leash tighter. He really didn't want to embarrass himself if the dog decided to run and drag him with him (though he would think he was simply too awesome for that) and stain his clothes some more. Remembering the slime that covered his face, he quickly the sleeve of his jacket and wiped it down. He could still feel the remnants of it and his noise sightly wrinkled in distaste. Looking at the two dogs and back to the girl, he guessed it wouldn't be that bad if the owners took awhile. He at least had a person to talk too. Walking towards the bench, dog trailing after him, and motioned with his arm to the girl as if to say, want to sit and talk? Pierre also learned that he was not a dog person.

-TAG- KATJA
-WORD COUNT-490 something? I think...
-NOTES- Sorry if this comes out ranty, my hands have a life of their own I swear. xD
-MUSE-ITS JUMPY <3

[katja dione dietrich;]

there's a fire starting in my heart

reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i53.tinypic.com/wb98wn.jpg');,true] ROLLING IN THE DEEP ! Katja dropped her hands back to her side after assisting him with ridding his hair of bits and pieces of things as best she could. As expected once he spoke again, this time first addressing the dog, his French accent pulled at his words in a charming way. Katja had always enjoyed listening to the French speak, they had the ability to make a language sound beautiful whereas her beloved German and deep tones could though others off with her husky voice. Turning her head slightly Katja's dark hues met those of the dog who'd decided it would be entertaining to attempt to get affection from her by nearly scaring her out of her wits by joining her on the bench. Since she'd ignored the dog so far in favor of talking to the male the dog had joined her by her side, rubbing his side along her legs, causing bits of dirt from the dogs fur to catch on her jeans. "Apparently yer not the only one ta go unscathed from dis adventure 'eh?" Katja grinned slightly, he'd replied to her makeshift introduction with the best of manners and she wondered slightly if Pierre ever found himself in uncomfortable situations. Grinning once more as he referred to himself as both French and German she nodded when he motioned for them to set on the bench she went willingly, setting her slender form on the bench as the dog who'd bothered her before on the bench sat beside her. Grinning down at the mutt she softly patted his head, finding it humorous the beast chose to behave now. Glancing back up at Pierre, Katja decided she'd finally answer his question. "Was not my choice to come 'ere. My vater an' my mutter made the decision ta come for business opportunities. But, I guess I'm growing ta like America. An' you? This is certainly different from Paris yes?" Her tones were low, Katja kept her gaze firmly upon him. Her time in Germany had been something that was hard for her to leave behind, especially when she came to American three years ago. "It appears that yer adjusting well to things 'ere eh? I'll be honest I've been 'ere fer three years and I still have issues ordering from menu's! Grinning once more she distractedly patted the dog on the head, who was without a leash unlike the mutt who'd found Pierre. "Oy. Yer in a band yes? Pierre de Lamarliere. Matchwork right? I'm in All That's Love. Bassist to be more exact." Suprisingly enough Katja had yet to meet many members of other bands but she had at least taken the time to familarize herself with the others in the other bands on tour with them. Smiling gently at him she ran a hand through her dark locks, fully involved in the conversation now that she'd realized who he was. 479 WORDS , PIERRE , BAH. MY POST STINKS. BUT I'M STARTING TO LIKE THEM TOGETHER :d!

table by california dreaming @ caution 2.0

[pierre cyrille de lamarliere;]

Pierre smiled at her remark. The dogs were certainly affectionate to say the least. " At least I don't have to suffer alone then," he said, his tone hinting at his amusement. Pierre opened his mouth to answer but the dog on the leash jumped up to meet the other dog in bench. Sadly, the dog jumped with more strength and he wasn't exactly heavy and in the end his face met dog fur and his knee banged into the bench. The world or the dog must have really disliked him for something he did to cause him this much pain. He made a slight wince as he picked himself up, the fur luckily did not get in his mouth but he was sure as hell that there would be a bruise on his knee. The dog looked at his as if to ask be forgiven, Pierre wasn't one to be cruel and promptly forgave it and patted its head.

Sitting down on the corner of the bench, at least the barely noticeable that was left for him thanks to the dog, and turned his head to face Katja. "Ah, America is supposed to be the land of opportunity though, is it not? My mother and father are still in France, after all it was my decision alone to come here. After all Europe is only so big and when visiting I found something that could entertain me. I like it though, I guess. I miss Paris and it's familiar streets and food but we have to keep moving forward even if there's change in our lives, right?"

He wasn't planning to stay in America so long, yet he couldn't even think of leaving his band. The occasional trip to France settled his homesickness well enough he guessed. "I've been adjusting, still adjusting though. It seems that whenever I go back and then come here I lose all the adjustments I made to fit into America. I'm to use to my French lifestyle. It still takes me awhile to get use to calculating height and all here. Everything seems so different! Pierre only had his parents to thank that he could get along in America without being scammed or anything of that sorts. His teacher taught him English and the society as a whole, and also how to read their letters.

The dog with mud-eyes once again shot a glance at Pierre before lolling his tongue out in a 'cute' fashion, the drummer responded with a roll of his eyes and a quick pat to satisfy the dog. "I thought your name was familiar, you have to excuse me for not ever introducing myself before. I'm the drummer for Matchworks, and that must be fun, playing the bass that is," he answered, grin still plastered on his face. "So how is touring life going for you?" He didn't exactly know much about the other bands, only really his. He wasn't a loner or anything he partied as much as his bandmates, it was just that he found himself rarely talking to other bands these days.

Pierre was content for now. He had two dogs that seemed to be attention-whores and a new girl to become friends with. Boredom wouldn't settled in until a long time, new people were always interesting to the socialite who enjoyed talking and most of all making friends.

-TAG- KATJA
-WORD COUNT- 500, well around it, these UBBC's always mess up my counting tool
-NOTES- Aww :3 i like it! Yeah I do too c: It's going pretty well.
-MUSE- IT LIVESSSSS

[katja dione dietrich;]

there's a fire starting in my heart

reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i53.tinypic.com/wb98wn.jpg');,true] ROLLING IN THE DEEP ! Katja allowed Pierre time to reply, she was never one to rush others. Somehow it didn't seem right to push others into things as Katja herself preferred to take things in her own pace. She was at least thankful that the weather was holding up, the sun was out and few clouds scattered the sky. While the wind may push one to wear a light jacket it certainly wasn't eskimo weather as Katja's band mates called it. She winced for Pierre when the dog crashed into him, not missing how his knee met with the bench. That impact alone would've been enough to pull some less-then-fine words from her lips. If anything though, Katja had always resorted to cursing in her own language. Luckily enough for her she could get away with such unpleasant words due to the fact that most Americans weren't educated enough in her beloved language to understand what she was saying. Katja had had a rather upscale education, but it mostly was based around numerals, never around letters of different languages. Hence her embarassing struggle with the American-English alphabet. Katja knew she was lucky that her parents had thought to see to her education in other languages, believing that she too one day would follow their steps into the business world. "American food certainly is different isn't it?" Katja grinned. The cuisine was certainly different in most countries but Katja was still attempting to grasp their need for fast food. Meals were meant to be savored with friends, right? Grinning as her musings brought out her humor she listened to him speak, enjoying the accent that pulled at his words as much as hers pulled at hers. "Change is a good thing, I guess it helps ta mold us into who we are. An' oh my. Don't even get me started on attempting to make sense of their measurements." Katja grinned, at least she wasn't the only one. She had the hardest time attempting to keep her grades up in her American school because of her inability to fully grasp the concept. "Aye. Everything is so different, I still hate it when I merely sit next ta someone on the bus and they look like I'm going ta rob them." Coming from such a populated place like Berlin sitting next to someone was the thing to do, sure there were pickpockets all over but it was rude to leave a seat between like Americans were fond of. Katja had asked plenty of times and the only answers she'd received involved them needing 'space'. "It's nice getting ta travel around so much, how're ye liking it?" Grinning at Pierre who appeared to be as easy at conversation as she was Katja leaned forwards, petting the dogs head who sat on the ground beside her, whining at the other dog who remained perched on the bench, clearly now jealous he was stuck to the ground. She watched as the dog shifted, and settled on his haunches preparing to jump up and attempt to fit in the zero space available on the bench. "Nein! No! Non! Hund don't --" Katja spoke in three languages and still her point hadn't gotten across as the mutt leap up, his weigh smashing into her lap and moving partially towards Pierre. Horrified as the dog attempted to touch noses with the other Katja felt the breath leave her lungs as he settled on her. 569 WORDS , PIERRE , GOTTA LOVE DOGS!

table by california dreaming @ caution 2.0

[pierre cyrille de lamarliere;]

Pierre turned to stare in front of him. It was a beautiful day and the gentle breeze was a bonus. Rubbing his knee that was forming a bruise he turned to the dog, rubbing it's head teasingly and saying, ”It's gonna be all your fault that I won't be able to walk tomorrow .” It was said teasingly as he patted the dog on more time. He liked talking to Katja, she shared the same experience as him. He certainty could not vent to one of his American friends about how he felt, they wouldn't understand. They were still in their country even if they didn't live with their parents, at least they wouldn't have to hop on a plane and travel across the ocean just to see them in person. He thanked the heavens that he didn't struggle with the language, though he spoke in a polite way most of the time. America's slang felt weird coming out of his mouth and he favored to continue using the colourful language of his own country.

”Interesting is an understatement. They have so many cultures bashed into just one culture. I can get any kind I want here even if it would never be up to par with the actual country. Even if I can't say their French food is the best at least I can get a little taste of home, you know?” It was perfectly true too, Pierre would devour his French food whenever he felt homesick. It comforted him and gave him motivation. ”Of course, it also shapes our future. I mean if I didn't come here right now we wouldn't have this conversation and I wouldn't have met you right? Ah, the measurements how I dread them. I don't know why America wants to stand out like that, it just makes it more difficult to communicate in my opinion,” Pierre said shooting her a wide-toothed grin.

”The people here can come off as...rude,” he said nodding in agreement. Of course it may have been sightly biased with the environment he was born and raised in. Manners came naturally to him and he expected people would at least know the mere basics of it because of it. He silently recalled one instance with a door and a man. Pierre expected the man to hold the door. The man did not, and it was also Pierre's fault for not paying attention and walking into the door and falling onto his butt. Of course the snickers did not get him as his impenetrable ego waved it off and made the females that were snickering at him swoon with a charming grin. ”They seem to like having their personal space though, I had someone slowly scoot away and placing her purse to her other side,” Pierre contributed. The one seat space 'rule' was ridiculous in his opinion. Sure, people ran the risk of getting their belongings stolen when people are near them but it's no excuse to be rude. He didn't appreciate bring accused as a pick-pocket, and yes there were pick-pockets in France but you just kept your belongings near you and in check. They usually aimed for tourists though, locals knew their ways and it wasn't exactly easy to rob from them.

Pierre was kicked out of his silent musings but a weight on his hand and injured knee and the smell of a dog. Silently turning, he was met with a dog's nose and unpleasant smell of dog food. ”Merde! Descendez! Aller en bas! Non,mauvais chien!” His voice slipped back to how it was in France as his his free hand tried to nudge the dog down. He was not disturbed by the dog's smell nor the fact it was going to lick him but it was certainly making his knee worse. He had no clue why his bruise was hurting this badly just from a dog, but he ignored the thought for the favor of pushing the dog off of and Katja.

-TAG- KATJA
-WORD COUNT- 666
-NOTES- Ignore my broken french? I always wanted to learn it but I'm forced to take Spanish ;A; I like it too thoughxD
-MUSE- PFF DO YOU SEE THIS RANT?

[katja dione dietrich;]

there's a fire starting in my heart

reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i53.tinypic.com/wb98wn.jpg');,true] ROLLING IN THE DEEP ! Drawing in a large breath she allowed the air to once more fill her lungs, while settling a dark glare on the mutt partially in her lap and Pierre's. His French words drew her attention as he'd also attempted to stop the dog and failed. Katja had always appreciated the French language, and found it quite beautiful to listen to in comparison to her deep German that often times could sound like you were choking. Pierre's French words were...attractive. Stunned slightly by the acknowledgment of at least how she was attracted to his tones Katja pulled herself back to reality, setting a stern look at the dog and giving the mutt instructions. "Come now ye oaf. Git off of us now eh?" With her husky tones the dog looked up at her, his large brown eyes begging to be allowed to remain in their laps. Nodding towards the ground the dog moved off of them, allowing Katja to finally begin to breath normally. Offering the dog a pat on the head and a murmur of thanks as a reward she grinned at Pierre. "It's apparent we both stink at being a dog master." Laughter dropped from her rosen lips, her soft eyes resting upon Pierre momentarily before glancing back to the dog. "Bah. Paranoid, that's what they are. 'nd certainly rude, fast ta accuse!" The conversation was light, easy and rather relaxing. Katja couldn't really recall the last time she'd joked around with someone who wasn't in her band. It was strangely refreshing. Katja had felt empowered by his words about change shaping their future. She would be the first to admit that when she first moved to the United States she'd been less then enthusiastic about the new country, yet once she'd managed to begin to understand things she'd embraced the change. And had ended up here today, in a band that though they had their struggles, always had each others backs. And Katja now had the very appealing opportunity to get to know Pierre better. "Are yer band mates as amazing as mine?" Katja shifted the subject, attempting to actually hold a conversation based on more then just polite exchanges. If there was one thing Katja had learned it was that once you met someone and you wanted to get to know them better, you had to take full advantage of the situation immediately. In her case, this was the perfect opportunity to start getting to know him, seeing as how the dogs' owners had yet to make an appearance. Katja silently wondered if he'd even stick around with her if the owners' did come. Offering a kind smile, she ran a free hand through her long black locks that lay about her shoulders, a nervous habit that not many had picked up on outside of her band. "An' you've gotta tell me 'bout drumming. I've never attempted ta play the drums, it looks so appealing though!" Once more her husky tones left her rosen lips, a smile playing at the corners as she spoke. They both had common ground, music. And Katja planned on exploiting that. Something had provoked her to continue speaking to him, his lulling accent warmed her senses along with his obvious kind nature. Considering he'd hardly seemed angered at the fact that he'd not only been practically mauled over by a dog but also jumped on, she guessed it was was easy to surmise he was rather easy-going in that sense. "I should warn ye, I'm going ta demand French lessons. I took a course in Germany but well, it's been a few years and I could use a brush-up on my skills!" Katja's English was choppy at best, so she fully imagined that Pierre would certainly have a grand time attempting to help her with French. With deep vocals and being used to practically choking up words instead of speaking in a rhythmic, lulling manner it was bound to be entertaining. 658 WORDS , PIERRE , IM SOOO SORRY I TOOK SO LONG TO REPLY!

table by california dreaming @ caution 2.0

[pierre cyrille de lamarliere;]

Pierre thought the dogs had it out for him, he swore the dog was just pressing on the developing bruise just to irk him. It was working as well, but he wouldn't allow a dog that simple satisfaction. "Ça fait mal vous savez,＂ he said, before realising he switched languages.pp The dog would have to be very intellectual to be bilingual. Could it even understand proper English anyways? Pierre calmed down, whenever his emotions got the best of him it seemed that he slipped back into his beloved language. Pushing back the accent till it was barely noticeable he repeated, "That hurts now will you get off?"

In return the dog just stared at him defiantly. Honestly, what was he thinking asking a dog? He wasn't cruel though, so he didn't have the heart to push the dog off his leg and look into its eyes and see a dejected look-that was meant for Katja and not him-and hear it whimper. The dog got off, albeit with reluctance  but nonetheless off when she spoke. "Eh, its probably me. I mean it would probably follow your every whim," Pierre said, pointing at the dog for emphases and smiled at hearing her laugh. 

He liked hearing her speak English though. Yes, girls fawn over his accent but he never noticed anything different about it. There was a saying that went that you never knew you had an accent until you're put of your country. It proved true to him when people asked him to repeat certain words when he found it a bit strange. It seemed to attract girls but he didn't doubt that his looks alone could do that as well. He liked Katja's voice as it seemed to comfort him from Americans and their many different accents. Some were music to his ears while others made him twitch with their high-pitched voice. America seemed to be mixed with accents that he could never pinpoint exactly where each came from. People called the German language gruff or deep but to Pierre it sounded perfectly fine. He had a German friend and the way she sang simply enchanted him. The way the words blended and depth of the German work well. He was always fascinated with accents and languages, though some seemed to be shrill and sharp.   

Change. It wasn't something bad, or anything difficult. To Pierre it was part of his life, described his life. He was on the constant move; vacations, schooling, business, and moving to America. They were changes, some drastic and some easily forgotten, but still important. "My bandmates are...delightful. Somehow I ended up being the only male and I resent the fact that they seem to forget that they have a male on the bus. Do you like yours?" He went with the flow, the parties his mother forced him to attend force him to. He developed the etiquette of speaking and could follow ever-changing conversations. 

"It's fun. It helps keep the beat and I like it," Pierre said with a quirk of his lips. He could easily rant on about music, having been exposed to classical music when he was younger. Yes, he didn't live and breathe music but it was a part of him. His father still expected him to be a business major and take on him company. It didn't bother him though, he would enjoy the life of a musician till then. "Ah, how is playing bass?"

He grinned at the thought of teaching her French. Why not? It would be fun and he certainly wouldn't mind. After all, it seemed that his language was popularly offered in American schools, it being one of the five romance languages and all. "Sure! I'll teach you it if you teach me German in return. My friend taught me a lot but it seems learning to languages isn't the best idea," Pierre said. It was true, he tried learning German and  English at once and confused the two constanly. He could only speak phrases in German but luckily his mother practically forced him to perfect his English. Though it did help when he travelled to Britian and later on America.

tags and stuff shall come later 
I don't have the code with me
At this very moment :3

[katja dione dietrich;]

there's a fire starting in my heart

reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i53.tinypic.com/wb98wn.jpg');,true] ROLLING IN THE DEEP ! Katja managed a grin as she petted the dogs' head. In the half-hour she'd experienced what dog owners experienced everyday,and she acknowledged the fact she was no longer envious of them. As Pierre spoke of the dog following her every whim she grinned at him, humor dancing across her face. "Aye. It's just 'cause he has yet ta figure out I've no dog treats in ma pockets!" Katja laughed lightly, her deep vocals husky and low. Often times she was at a stand still when it came to debating if she liked her voice or not. In Germany her tone was natural, yet in the States she'd quickly learned that females had a higher pitch, and certainly not a husky sound to their voices. Katja was fairly certain why so many people in her life adored her accent, because it was different and certainly wasn't as beautiful as Pierre's French accent. German was a rough language, but one she loved. "Yikes! I'll have ta keep that in mind, seeing as we have a male in our band of females. An' I liebe, love, them. We're a pretty tight-knit group as tha Americans' say eh? We were all forced into makin' ah band by our parents, but it worked out in the end." Fame and fortune was something the groups' parents had been after, and something they'd fairly succeeded in. Katja's parents had decided to use their daughters talents with instruments to play up their own interests. Needless to say her parents supported her musical talents as long as the spotlight remained on the band. And that she didn't fail her senior year of highschool. "Technically we're all seniors this year, and tha school year's not over yet. So while playin' these shows, we're also stuck with mounds of homework." A slight blush swept across her cheeks. Katja was the slowest when it came to her homework, merely because she was forced to fight through making sense of the English letters. Sometimes she was lucky enough to persuade a bandmate into helping her with it. "I'm verra greatful for them. Is it terrible that I have a rough time ordering off of menus?" If there was one thing the dark haired girl didn't enjoy it was being inept. Yet so far most Americans had given her a pity filled glance and attempted to help her, some going as far as hitting on her and saying she owed them a date for their help. "Aye! Tha' sounds fantastic! If I sound more French perhaps it will endear more people to me eh?" Katja laughed once more, her husky tones flowing melodically out. For her conversation with another was easy, she never had to attempt to put much thought or effort into maintaining it. And she was drawn to him, to his words. The original reason why they were both seated on the bench seemed null in her mind. Running slender fingers through her dark locks she dropped her hand to lightly pet the dog. "Ye'd think their owners woulda notice their missin' dogs by now eh?" too lazy WORDS , PIERRE , Awww!

table by california dreaming @ caution 2.0

[pierre cyrille de lamarliere;]

"I'm sure he's just attracted to you, with you being pretty. You sure have good taste don't you boy?" Pierre stated, patting the said dog's head and giving it a wink.  Accents were accents and when you were stuck hearing the same words spoke the same way, and then hear a foreigner speak of course you would be intrigued. Well, it seemed to fit for Americans at least. Whenever Pierre hears his poor beloved language mauled by accents it makes him grimace with pain. He was proud of his language and takes it as something not to be abused. 

"Ah, I feel for that man then. It certainly isn't fun most of the time, though I do see them as dear friends. At least it turned out for the better right?" Pierre lived with his parents never directly forcing him to do anything, it was more indirectly. They usually liked giving him options as it widens his future into not just one solid path but a vast land with different paths littered throughout. Though one thing was set in stone since his birth and that was to take over his father's business. He didn't mind, he rather liked the sort of work and it came easy. "I'm overjoyed that I'm finished and past highschool. It seemed to make me stuck in a rut going to school, learning, going home, and doing homework everyday. I'm in my second year of college. Though if I ever failed anything there I'm pretty sure my mother would have my head," he said giving her a grin. Luckily the online college he was taking was a college from France and thus, he understood everything better. "Not really, I still have trouble with some strange words. Their slang is quite odd to me also and it always ends up with me having to ask someone what it means," he responded. Remembering some of their horrid meanings. Yes, France certainly had its slang but America was horrid at how they could say it so outlandishly and branding the words as if they were commonly use. Worse was when people tell him the definition in public and it catches everyones attention-he would say it was from his looks-and then the faces on the elders with the descriptions. 

"I'm sure people like you even now, if you knew French people would just swarm you. I would have to help keep those unworthy suitors away now wouldn't I?" He softly chuckled at her joke, it certainly was true that she was amazing now. Her personality was attracting to say the least as he was stuck with rudeness most of the time here. 

"TANGOOO," a male shouted waving his arms around. The dog on the seat reacted as it jumped off and onto its owner instead. 

[katja dione dietrich;]

there's a fire starting in my heart

reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i53.tinypic.com/wb98wn.jpg');,true] ROLLING IN THE DEEP ! It was relaxing, the sunlight pouring over them and the scenery in the park a nice lift to the dreary city. Katja had found little relaxation time inbetween merch booth browsing and shows and practice. She also found it tiresome of consistently worrying if she'd paper cut her finger or something ridiculous like that. Katja had loathed paper cuts more the perhaps the average person, it always stung when she played her bass guitar with one. It was an experience she'd repeated over the years, but the appeal of it was always low. As Pierre spoke Katja let out a low, husky laugh. "That may jus' be the case! An' the hund does ha' gut taste since he's so fond of you!" A light blush spread across pale cheeks at her words, suprising herself. Katja had always been straightforward. Even if she was into a guy she'd always been upfront, never one to beat around a bush. But Pierre was different. "Aye, plus he's not dramatic." Katja grinned, reaching out to pet the dogs' head. "Must be nice eh? Not ha'in ta worry 'bout high school. I was amazed when I came 'ere and saw how what's the word? Oh yes. 'Clicky' the school system is. I guess I was spoiled by the fact that yer looks matter not ta much in Deutschland." Appearance was something that was natural to Germans, it wasn't mean't to be altered. While Katja believed in good hygiene, she was amazed at how much make-up American teenagers pasted on to their faces just to look 'decent' in their opinions. It was a European thing that had become endearing to her, the constant feel that one was beautiful without pounds of make-up. "At least I can be thankful I wasna taught that I had to look orange to be beautiful!" The joke fell from rosen lips with ease, humor lighting up her dark hues. She appreciated the fact that at least Pierre would understand her, where she was coming from. Yet at the same time he was male. Perhaps males found orange females attractive? "Eh! Me too. Like 'brah' and 'dude'. I've 'ad real issues with those slang words. I mean, why would someone call another person a bra?" She grinned once more, her attention fully riveted on him as he spoke to her. "That's easy. Tell me ta speak German ta them. Then they'll most certainly think I'm attempting to spit on them eh?" Another blush coated her cheeks at his words and her reply. The idea of any suitors being interested in her was enough to make Katja go stiff. She'd only dated a little in her past, nothing worth mentioning. And someone like Pierre was bound to have an amazing background in dating. "As fer you. I'm gunna have to invest in a broom 'cause American females seem to be into the whole 'I speak different languages' thing. Plus you're French. That immediately makes you appealing to the female gender. What with Paris and all." Katja purposely pronounced Paris Paarreeh for Pierre's benefit, drawing out the sounds and making the silent 'e' in the French pronounciation clear. The sound of a males voice yelling out caused Katja to jump slightly, the sudden onslaught of a yelling voice shocking her out of the world she'd built around the conversation. The dog beside them was gone, and the next disappeared within seconds as yet another voice called out, this one female. "BUUUUDDDDDDDYYYYYYY!!!!!" Again Katja jerked, her form landing lightly against Pierre's side as the woman waved her arms at the dog beside Katja. Immediately, Buddy as his name was, took off and nearly tackled the woman who began laughing. Katja grinned, taking a moment to enjoy the warmth at the closeness of Pierre's form before shifting away. "I was beginning ta worry we'd 'ave ta sneak two hund's into our buses." The couple, the man and woman, approached them with grateful smiles on their faces. "Thank you so much! We were beginning to think we'd lost them. What a wonderful couple you are, watching after Tango and Buddy while we were attempting to track them down. Have a nice day now!" It was the woman who spoke to them, and Katja felt heat creep into her cheeks as the woman clearly thought they were a couple couple. Nodding her head as the couple left Katja turned back to Pierre. "Can't say I've e'er 'ad a trip ta the park such as this one." She grinned once more but felt anxious. Pierre now had no reason to stay beside her, much less talk to her more. too lazy WORDS , PIERRE , sorry it took sooo long

table by california dreaming @ caution 2.0

[pierre cyrille de lamarliere;]

It was a nice day; bright sun, fluffy clouds that looked like animals, and all that jazz. Pierre would say, as cheesy as it sounded, that the day seemed nicer sitting and chatting with Katja. The day always pulled one over him as it breezed past him without letting him enjoy it. "I would say that he wanted to torture me more then anything, but truly I would say it was because he was attracted and wanted to woo you. Can't have competition," he said, grinning. The compliment was nice, though he couldn't say rarely got them. He had compliments tossed at him left and right, but it felt nice that she would compliment him.

"It would seem so. They tend to stick to you by what you wear. I think they never really bother to actually know who you are." Pierre never truly had his fair share of experience in American high schools, but he had live with people clingy onto him for his status in wealth.

He chuckled at her joke, the fake tans were hilarious to him. He never really minded tan skin in general, just the faux kind. It was if they thought it was actually attractive. It just seemed fake to him, so utterly fake. "Why don't they just go and spend some time out in the sun if they want to be tan so badly? It sorta scares me, almost as if they think orange can be a natural skin colour or something," he said adding him own musings. Of course, he never got tan as it was more that he burned then anything, but still he never judged a girl's looks by just skin colour.

"Someone tried to give me directions, but they used the slang terms cause I'm sure that I can't just 'turn at ghetto neighborhood' or whatever," Pierre said, remembering how lost he got because of it. "Oh, I'm sure it'll make them swoon instead." He dated, he could easily flirt with girls but for the most part all the compliments he gave while flirting are true and Katja's were all honest opinions. He smiled at her articulation of Paris it was a while since someone said it that way to him. "Throw a Brit at them and I'm sure they would get over me," he answered. Of course, he did have times were he could get a girl by just speaking French, but when speaking English, the British could beat him any day.

Pierre watched the dogs run off with their owners after calling them a couple. He didn't feel uncomfortable with having the label on him even if he was rarely in any serious relationships. "Imagine that, I would think my bandmates would be all over him. Certainly interesting indeed. Here I thought I would be just wasting my time wandering, but instead I meet a charming girl and some hyperactive dogs. I think my day went pretty darn well," he said, looking at Katja and seeing her blush. It was rather cute if said so himself, but of course he seen a lot of cute things and have been called cute himself. It was a funny reaction to them being called a couple, but he bit his tongue as he didn't want to insult her or make her feel awkward with him.

Suddenly, he remembered something. He only went to the park to past time until band practice, which he would be late for. Quickly he took his phone from his back pocket and glanced at the time. He let out a string of curses as he saw that he would be more then late when he got there. Pierre then looked back at Katja, he certainly wanted to chat with her again. "I'm sorry, I have to go!, I have band practice. It was nice chatting with you and I want to do it sometime again so can I have your number?" he asked smiling at her, phone ready in hand.

[katja dione dietrich;]

there's a fire starting in my heart

reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i53.tinypic.com/wb98wn.jpg');,true] ROLLING IN THE DEEP ! Katja grinned at Pierre. Her dark hues completely focused on him, her body angled towards him. It was perhaps a more European thing, dedicating one's mind and body fully to the conversation. Shrugging in a full-bodied way that made her stand out as a European she grinned at Pierre, forcing back another blush as he commented about wooing. Of course Kat had had dates in the past, had at least attempted dating but she was far from being experienced and devoted to a relationship. American's were set on looks from what she'd seen, not that she'd blame them, but Katja was rather focused on a persons' attitude and personality. "Bah. It's verrah over-rated as they say!" Katja agreed completely with his statements on fake tans and slang terms. Sure each language had their own slang, but it seemed to her that the American version of English was twisted and possibly one of the most complicated languages to learn. So many ridiculous rules. But at the same time, since she'd been able to roughly learn English, she had high hopes in getting a firmer grasp on Pierre's native language. Katja once more let out a husky laugh at his mention of the British. Of course she'd met many Brits in her lifetime seeing as they all highly enjoyed traveling the world. "Oy. Bloody 'ell!" She attempted a British accent, grinning the whole time as her deep lyrics came out as smooth as possible. "Ta be honest, I think tha Brit's ha'e it ta easy." Kat grinned once more, her humor clearly shown upon her face. "Bah. Me charming? Why danke kind sir." Kat grinned once more, her white teeth shown from behind rosen lips. "An' 'ere I thought tha' I'd be spending tha day bored out o' ma mind. Yet I met a handsome Frenchman." She smiled once more, her dark hues locked on Pierre's face. A slight frown crossed her face when he began searching in his pockets and withdrew a cellphone. The string of curses however, that flew out of his mouth had her grinning and remarking. "I knew there was some German in you!" His question however, managed to throw her off. Feeling her heart-beat speed up in anticipation she nodded dumbly before managing to speak. "Oh, sure! 'Ere. You put yours in mine and I'll do tha same." She reached into her own pocket and pulled out her slim iPhone. Offering it to Pierre she used her spare hand to reach out for his phone. "Ta be honest, I'm probably being hunted down meself." 427 WORDS , PIERRE ,

table by california dreaming @ caution 2.0