<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class=ooc><tr><td>Timestamp: Mia (Winter), 81379</td></tr></table> <span style='color:#7a8088'> Sketch sat alone on the wooden park bench. She examined an indistiguishable profanity carved into the seat, and decided she didn't want her juice box. She was in her mid twenties, what the hell was she doing drinking juice from a box anyhow. In a fit of anger, she threw it to the ground and stepped on it, watching the orange fluid spray quite some distance. Why did crap like that satisfy her? She had a mopey day. It was around midnight and she had dragged herself around from place to place picking through her dull, wasteful life. What was she doing here? Honestly. She already had a bachelor of science degree, but knew she was higher qualified. But still, she wasnt happy. Just because parents force you into a subject doesnt mean you're going to like it. So hanging her head, less in self pity and more in frusteration, she headed home to her tiny apartment. Tossing her keys and coat onto a large wicker chair, she collapsed onto her boxspring, cringing as a spring drove itself into her back. It'd been bothering her for days now. She should really get a new mattress. So she stood up and grabbing the red pack from a the top right drawer in her desk lit a cigarette. She perched upon the desk and opened the window, allowing her to stick her head, hand, and most of her shoulders out. Same as every night. Out of the blue, her line of sight clouded over, replaced by a brilliant image. A stage, illuminated by piercing blue lights, dry ice drifting over the floor. She sat in the audience, and clapped violently for the group onstage. She couldnt see her faces, but one. It was her, center stage screaming into a microphone as the crowd went wild. Paradise? In a flash, it was gone as she leaned out the dreary window, overlooking a suburban street, dead, as usual. But she had an idea. Often her good ideas turned out to be terrible ones, but she had a good feeling this time, which was somewhat unusual. She had always loved to sing, and knew that she was good at it. She just naturally was. Tossing the cigarette butt to the ground outside, she ducked back into her room and crawled off of the desk, securing the window tightly. It was cold inside. The heater had been on the blink for about a week now, but for now the temperature did not bother her. With a genuinely happy smile she opened the second drawer of her desk and removed a stack of blank green paper. She turned on the overhead light and grabbed a black marker from the floor, then settled herself on her boxspring, and began writing furiously. After an hour or so, she put the marker down and admired the stack of flyers she'd made. Then flicking off the light, she wrapped herself in a wooly blanket and went to sleep. The next day she awoke ready for a changing day. Pulling on the first pair of jeans she located from her closet and a black t-shirt with a silkscreened eagle, which she just so happened to make herself at an art class a couple years back. It seemed she never gained weight. She could wear her clothes from when she was sixteen, still. She quiclky and mindlessly threw on some black eyeliner to complete her appearance and headed for the door, snatching her keys and coat. Stepping outside she realized that she didnt really need a coat at all. Most of the snow had melted, and the sun was shining with a brilliant warmth. 'What a happy day' she thought. Her smile did not leave her face for a second as she walked down to the acadamy and inside the first building untill she came face to face with the great bulliten board, the single most important source of information ever to exist in the school. Here she posted the first of her flyers. She stood back and admired it. It read: Musical Artists Wanted! Be part of the first Ramathian band today. Needed: Guitarist, Bassist, and Drummer. If you can sing as well, that would be marvelous. Tryouts are tomorrow at 6:00pm at 49 Martina St. apartment #19. Be there or be boring."</span>
She had spent her first few days aimlessly wandering around the city. Taking in all the sights n sounds. She had got her self settled in to a niceÂ…well it was good enough for now. For weeks she had just been exploring, learning how to interact and live civilized. One night after not being able to sleep Rommi sat up and bed thinking. There has to be more then this, there has to be some way I can contribute. Feeling useless Rommi flops back down in her bed with a sight falling back to sleep. Her body didnÂ’t stir till around 9 oÂ’clock the next morning, from the sounds of a new SUV almost running in to the back of a dumpster. Rommi threw herself out of bed landing on the floor, mumbling about the noises of the city. Making her was groggily to the bathroom where she proceeded to get herself ready for the day. After a nice long hot shower, Rommi grabbed a faded black top from the floor beside her dresser. She sniffed it a few times before deciding it was clean enough to wear. It was nothing great, she had purchased it at a second hand shop, it had once been owned by some one who worked at TedÂ’s Cycles and More which was advertised across the back. After finding a shirt she moved to her lower half, she found a nice mid knee length denim skirt with random scribbles on it. Another second hand store find. Things were expensive in the real world but it was nice to own something that fit properly. After grabbing a few jeweled bracelets and putting on minimal make up Rommi was ready to face a new day. Grabbing her old black torn coat fixed with thick red yarn where it need, she closed the door behind her and set out. The first time some one tastes coffee they usually make a face but then addiction sets in and they canÂ’t live with out it. This was not the case for Rommi, she had loved it from the first time she even smelled it, the attendant felt sorry for the girl so she gave her a free sample. It hit her like a brick wall but she couldnÂ’t live with out it now. Some times it took her three large cups in one morning just o get going. So after getting her latest fix Rommi decided to explore once more before she would go figure out to do with her life. Having a severe case of a.d.d Rommi always began paying attention to the world around her and not that of the world directly in front of her. Normally she would just usually run in to a guy on a bike, or a mailbox but today was different. Have you seen those movies where a character gets a life changing sign and there is all the dramatic music and they set out to make that ever their sign tells them happen? Well today was RommiÂ’s day, not paying enough attention Rommi tried to move around a pole. The pole was much more cleaver then Rommi today and managed to snag a hold of her arm making her spill coffee all over herself. Letting out a large shriek of disgust Rommi looked down her out fit now soaked with coffee then up at the pole that had caused it with a glare. It mocked her, didnÂ’t apologize or anything. It just stood there laughing, then she noticed something plastered on its face. She grabbed it ripping it down hoping to inflict the pain that might be able to compete with hot coffee but it just stood there as always. With further inspection of the flyer it seemed normal, they usually were about a lost pet or a sofa for sale but this one was different. It mesmerized her; she couldnÂ’t take her eyes off it. A band, never heard about those before, Guitar Bass or Drums. She had never heard of the other two but bass stuck out in her brain. It was an extinct fish from many many years ago. She wanted to know what this bass could be doing in this thing called a Band, but she wanted to learn out. Shoving the flyer in her pocket Rommi went back to the store to get a new coffee then back to her place to change for this 6:00 meeting. OCC ok so she is an air head, but soooo cute!!!
Nekhalla smiled as she read the sign. <span style='color:purple'>A band needing drums? I'm so there</span> She thought with a smirk on her face. She pushed a strand of brown hair out of her face and cracked her knuckles. The drums were something she rocked at, she always loved the noise and the beat so she was perfectly happy to try out for this. It might be something else she's good at too. She could keep a beat and could do plenty of cool things with a pair of drum sticks. She reached into her bag and pulled out a slightly worn pair of rainbow colored sticks. These were her favorite pair and one of her most prized possesions as they were just the right size for her. She spun one of the sticks between her fingers as she read the rest of it. Making a mental note of time and place she nodded. <span style='color:purple'>This should be rather easy...</span> Nekhalla, always sure of herself. Never backing down from anything. Once she has something in her head she always goes for it no matter what. The jacket she wore today was of her own design, It was a white trenchcoat with buttons down the front and then blood red fabric at the bottom to make it look like blood had seeped into the bottom of it. The whole thing was rather pretty to look at, though rather morbid at the same time.
<font color=silver>Reveri was just about to step outside for a smoke when he spotted the flyer. It was barely still there, as it would appear that someone had tried to rip it off, then either rethought it or failed. He blinked, staring at the vague line that kept it attached, then shrugged and decided to read with the paper actually had to say. When he was finished reading, the student was slightly more interested and his fingers flitted across the words, making sure that it was correct, he had read that they needed a guitarist. What the heck, why not? He had the time to waste and even if they didn't pick him up, meeting some other musicians wouldn't be a bad idea. Admittedly, he wasn't the hottest guitarist ever, but he was learning. And, eventually, he hoped to be quite good at it. Sighing and tucking his pack of cigarettes back into his leg pocket, the twenty-four-year-old jogged back to his Academy room. He quickly grabbed his guitar case and - with it slung across his back - the male walked to this designated meeting place. Wondering if he would have competition for getting into the band. Or if, indeed, he was good enough. Time would tell.
Sketch paced her garage. Over the past twenty four hours she had miraculously transformed the tiny room into a makeshift recording studio. Two large amplifiers stood stacked atop one another in the far right corner. Next to them stood a drumset, an old gift from her ex-boyfriend. She had dumped him before he taught her how to play. It happens. But now, it seemed it would pay off, as she looked upon them gleaming in the dim dusty light, smooth black plastic still un-dented. Although she knew nothing about drums, she was well aware that this was one of the nicest sets available in the area. Across the room stood four speakers, stacked in two towers of two. Off to the left stood a microphone stand. The actual microphone lay across the room on a desk, Probably the only cordless piece of equiptment in the room, minus the drums. Scanning the floor, Sketch soon realized if her future band was not carefull they would all end up tripping, falling, getting electocuted and dying. Perhaps she'd invest in a carpet to put overtop. Is that a fire hazard? But beyone the chaotic studio construction and nervous anticipation of meeting three complete strangers and trying to come together, she couldnt help but smile. There are days in all of our lives where we feel hopeless and lost and cant help but ask some greater being: "why me?". But the great thing about those days is that they are always balanced with good ones that will inevitably follow when your least expecting them. Today, Sketch knew that this was exactly where she was supposed to be, and her life had unfolded exactly how it had just for this moment. As she walked to the microphone and lifted it from the antique-looking desk. As her skin touched the cool metal handle, she felt an immediate bond with it. She loved the mic. It had kept her company on many lonely nights, singing herself to sleep. Sketch supposed that was why she was such a good singer... evolved to pefect tone from years of practice. She dared not tell anyone of their affair, though. It was just between the two of them. With a deep breath she opened her mouth and began the slow eerie tune of an old song, name long forgotton. However, each note and lyric were still clear as day in her mind. "I have come curiously close to the edge though... beneath my self indulgent pitiful hole. Defeated.... conceited.... move closer I may find comfort here I may find peace withing the emptiness how pitifull.... Its calling me....." As she sang, she felt a chill down her own spine. She tried not to be concieted about it, as the song itself spoke against, but she knew she was good. However, there was noone for her to consider bragging too, so she smiled and continued, waiting for her future to arrive.
<span style='color:purple'>Nice voice you got there.</span> Nekhalla had made it over to said spot and a smile was on her face. She was quite the sneaky one. She still had her sticks out. Her hat today was the OMG once again. A smirk came across her face as she slipped into the garage, careful not to trip. <span style='color:purple'>Names Nekhalla, I'm here to try out for the band...as a drummer, I double as a costume designer too though. Sewing is fun for me</span> She pushed some stray strands of hair out of her face. She always seemed to be getting hair in her face, but refused to put it up. Her coat sort of billowed out behind her. She was wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of cameo pants. She held out her right hand, as was the standard thing. <span style='color:purple'>Just a sidenote, I don't sing...I can scream my ass off though. You must be the lead vocalist, I think I've met you before though...Don't remember your name though...</span> She thought for a few seconds to see if maybe it was somewhere in her brain. The wheels were turning but it just wasn't there... <span style='color:purple'>Yeah I'm coming up blank...Sorry...</span> Nekhalla spied the drumset. Her eyes lit up. <span style='color:purple'>SWEET TANASTLASEI!!! Is that what I think it is?</span> Her ADD had offically kicked in, She ran over, almost tripping a few times. She ran her fingers over the metal finishings and looked at everything about the set. This happened to be the set that she had been eyeing for the longest time...but couldn't get because she couldn't make the money or get something to trade worth it, except maybe her Menlo card...she would never trade that though. She put her drumsticks on the top of one of the smaller drums and eyed the whole thing over. It was like new, undented and a beautiful sight to her eyes. <span style='color:purple'>Dude...I'm offically impressed...Can I?</span> Lets just say she would try not to drool...
Oh shit. Sketch felt her eyes widen as they settled upon the dragoness in her garage, for she knew that Nekhalla was no stranger at all. She could remember that face. She was the one who helped that one fellow a while back in the middle of the courtyard. Sketch had made an ass of herself, being high as a kite. However, there was nothing she could do about it by now. She was already seen. All she could do was hope that Nekhalla would not recognize her with regular sized pupils. Nevertheless, she shook her hand and smiled warmly. She had no problem with Nekhalla herself. She actually liked her attitude. Confident, but not cocky. Punky but not frightening. This could work. "Hey, I'm Sketch. Welcome to my humble abode." She didnt mean to sound quite so sarcastic, but the trashy ambiance of the garage made it impossible to hide. Her anxiety declined as her guest took her eyes off of Sketch to be intrigued in the drumset. She looked like a small child on christmas morning discovering a pony beneath their christmas tree. She touched the set with infinate delicacy that Sketch knew she could never posess herself. She motioned for Nekhalla to take a seat. "Well, let's see what you've got. Give me your all, and if your decent at all, their all yours. " And so she took a seat upon the old wooden desk. She would have to get some furniture in here soon. Maybe a futon. But she did not focus on the rooms decor right now for she watched the drummer do what she was born to do. /this better be good/ she thought to herself, but inside did not doubt the dragoness for a moment.
Nekhalla looked up like the little kid who just found out she could actually RIDE the pony. She took a seat cracked her knuckles, and picked up her rainbow colored sticks. She started with the bass drum with the foot peddle. 1, 2, 3, 4...She went straight into an all too familuar tune for her. It was an Earth song she had carefully memorized. You could just hear the rest of the band that went with it, "The Story of My Old Man" by a band whos name was now lost. She played for a good five or six minutes. Never missing a beat or a note. She was definatly in the zone, she hit the last note and smiled like the kid who had just got off the pony. <span style='color:purple'>Damn...Thats one WICKED set of drums...</span> She pushed back the hair that had gotten in her face from the fact, in true rocker style, she was head banging along with the beat. She shook her head and let out one big... <span style='color:purple'>Good on paper...even better in person</span> Nekhalla was a hard one to impress too, things usually just slid right over her head. Though something new and interesting might come along that she might just jump at. When she did jump though it was an awesome thing. She loved the drums...She could let out her anger or just let out her creativity on them. Usually when she was not frustrated with the sewing machine or her pens or the world in general. Yeah Nekhalla in a nutshell...shes a bit of a goth with a bit of everything else. <span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class=ooc><tr><td>Dun shoot me! *hides* I like Good Charlotte even though I'm not an emo! I really liked the pony metaphor too XD</td></tr></table>
After a quick pick me up coffee, and a change of outfit Rommi was on her way again. Now dressed in long dark denim pants with holes in various parts with red and purple-stripped tights on underneath. For a top she wore a dark gray tank top under a longer sleeved argyle sweater with a yellow white and pink design on the front. Hair had been curled and tied back with a long black ribbon. This girl had done her research and was carrying a brand new bass guitar in a shiny silver case over her shoulder; she had picked up pretty fast but was still learning everyday. She pushed her sunglasses up her nose a bit as she looked at flyer she had grabbed from the vicious pole. This was her first time really being on campus, she knew that it was a school and there were students but other then that it was a large mystery to her. Adjusting the shoulder strap she looked up at an address, she had always had trouble navigating in the city and this was the third building she had found today with this address, hopefully this would be her final destination. She figured she had finally made it when she heard the constant beat of what she had learned was called a drum. She began walking closer to the noise hearing voices along with the beat, one she had never heard before but one sounded familiar. Rommi peered in a window to see a crowed room, mostly equipment of some sort with two figures. She recognized the one right away, it was the girl she had meet in the woods that one day before she had found civilization, the other was just some one sitting behind a drum kit. She watches for a bit before deciding to knock.
<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class=ooc><tr><td>I'm a part time sound tech, so if any of you have questions about gear, I might be able to help you out. I don't actually play any of said instruments myself, but I might be able to offer some pointers in that area too. PM me if ya like, and rock on.</td></tr></table>
For a moment, Sketch was positive she was paralyzed. She stared at Nekhalla in utter amazement. She was fantastic. Sketch had never really realized that the drums were more than just tools to keep the beat of a song, but were in fact a vital element of music, like your lungs are to your body. If she knew that when she'd gotten the set, maybe she would have been motivated to practice. But she hadnt, but was now thrilled that somebody did. Still in shock she managed to find her balance and walk to her new drummist. Placing a hand around her shoulders and grinning she said: "Welcome to the band. The set is yours." As the words left her mouth she sensed a strange sort of prescence. The kind of feeling you get when a cat stares at you from a distance. You see it, but do not conciously acknowledge the feline. Sketch spun around to find a familliar face. An albino dragoness' stood in the doorway looking thrilled to be alive as usual. "Oh, hey! It's you. Rom, right? What's up?" Her eyes stopped upon the silver bass case that was casually slung upon Rom's shoulder. It gleamed like a diamond in the dusty light, so beautiful Sketch was tempted to reach out and touch the shiny surface, but quickly and thankfully decided otherwise. "Rom, meet Nekhalla, the future band's star drummer. Nekhalla, meet Rom, a friend of mine, and maybe-future bassist. After you two are aquainted, lets hear what you've got." She returned to her perch upon the sawdust covered desk, gazing thoughtfully at her future unfolding. She liked the two dragons. Nekhalla was an excellent drummer, no doubt about it. At first she had gotten a bit of a cocky vibe from her, but she was now beginning to grow on her. Punky but respectable. Firey but cool. A contradiction. But behind her eyes she could see there were many stories to be told. She had seen her share of life at its best and worst, but knew that such stories were locked far away. Sketch knew that she'd work on her, as she glanced over to the Rom, now setting up her bass. She did not know if Rom could play her instrument whatsoever, but already loved her. Some people are just easy to get along with. They may not be the smartest or prettiest or most up-to-date or stylish, but their positive attitude is rampantly contagious. Rom was one of them. She had grown up mostly alone and secluded so escaped most of the corruption that occurs in early childhood. Some may call her a black sheep, but to Sketch she was a rare and valuable personality to have around. And all of this before 2 o'clock. Sketch smiled. Maybe she'd have a chance at something after all. You never knew where you'll be or what you'll be doing tomorrow.
Nekhalla had a grin on her face that was so big it seemed ill-logical. A drumset, she was so happy she could die. This band thing would be a fun new experiance for her, so was so used to just being alone practicing that now this seemed like the coolest thing on the face of the planet. For her the drums were an extension of herself, it was like another arm of her creativity. She would have to bring Dos sometime he would enjoy it too. He always loved new people and just being around Nekhalla and her friends. He was a good companion, a good Cucu. Not to mention he could help with set up. Nekhalla was still grinning when Rom walked in. Her sticks were in her right hand she touched them to her head and took them off in kinda a drummer's sault. <span style='color:purple'>Nice to meet you. Nice bass.</span> Once again...shinyness causes the ADD to kick in. She stared at it for a few seconds and then back at Rom, Nekhalla decided she may need a slight update in wardrobe but besides that was pretty cool. Wardrobes were easy to fix...usually a day or two on a sewing machine for her could give you enough pieces to feel like a new person. She liked the tights though. The tights were cool. Some signiture pieces were needed and the pants needed to be changed, but she knew it could be done.
Rom kneeled down on the floor not carrying about the sawdust; she unlatched the locks and pulled out her bass. It was totally black with a pink swirl looking thing on the back, in the middle all the different smudges formed in to a perfect rose. Standing up and placing her petite bottom on the top of a stool she placed the instrument on her knee. She had just begun playing but it came naturally to her, after a few minuets of just messing up to get it out of her system Rom beacon to play a low eerie bass riff like something from a remote jungle but it was just what Rom was hearing in her head at the moment. An artist has the ability to make a drawing or model perfectly just as they see it in their heads; Rom had this gift with her bass. From the first second they had been together Rom knew they had a connection. After just a few short minutes of playing which had felt like hours with the pace she had set Rom looked up a cheery smile on her face. I know I am not that great yet because I am still learning. I figure if I get all my mistakes out before I play it helps a bit. Just realizing it was her fist time playing in front of an audience Rom suddenly learned what it was like to feel embarrassed. She quickly got off the stool and stooped down again placing Petunia back in her case. She began mumbling how she was sorry she felt bad for wasting their time and that she never should have even came to this thing. She made her way to the garage door when suddenly an angry wire tripping her attacked her. Not wanting her precious cargo to be damaged she kind of flopped back wards so her bass landed on her instead of the other way around. She sat up and looked in the case, all was safe and sound. She began to get up she felt her back getting kind of drafty. She turned her head to look and see the back of her shirt torn to pieces. Just the perfect way to make a bad day turn worse.
Sketch made her way over to where Rom had toppled, and was now sitting in an akward sort of twisted positon that made reminded Sketch of the annorexic cheerleaders from her school who's parents had forced them into gymnastics competitions and low-carb diets from the age of 3. However, she knew Roms story was much different. Thats what she liked about her. Her reactions to seemingly normal situations were always spontaneous and original... perhaps even amusing. Not to say she was laughing at her. Well maybe she was. But not out loud. Definately not. Inside... maybe. Not to be mean, but because she thought Rommie was adorable. Like a puppy chasing its tail. She extended her arm to the bassist now whimpering and prodding at the tear in her shirt. Sketch decided not to mention that there was two rips. A small one... the one that Rom had felt... and another one that curved all the way up her back. She'd see it soon enough. <span style='color:gray'> "You alright there Rom? Whats wrong? I was hoping you would be part of our band. Dont leave yet."</span> She smiled warmly and pulled Rom to her feet. Holding up a finger to connote suggest "I'll be right back" she sort of speed-walked into her apartment to find another shirt that Rom could borrow. Flinging open her closet door, she gazed upon the massive heap of tangled clothing, old school notes, doodles, pens, markers, post-it-notes, and a coconut. Did coconuts get moldy? She'd had this one for at least five years. She and a friend had drawn eyes and whiskers on it and vowed to keep it forever. Somewhere around year two it smelled kind of rotton, but by now, although she could not see inside save for a tiny black hole, she assumed its contents had decomposed, now leaving her with an empty coconut shell in her closet. Sometimes she questioned her ease of amusement. Oh right. Shirt. Closing the frightening closet, she moved on to her dresser drawer. She had far too many compartments in this room for they were all full of little collections and mementos shed compiled for every special occasion. But from the chaos she located a single folded black long-sleeved shirt. On the front it displayed a tattoo-style decal of a rocket, decorated with the words "ANOTHER NAME FOR TRAGEDY". It was given to her by the same ex-boyfriend who'd given her the drums. Another name for tragedy was his band, who'd sadly broken up not but a week or two ago. Well sad for them. Sketch didnt personally care. They weren't that good anyway. However the shirt was cool. She had designed it for them. Shirt in hand, she recalled that she had visetors and loitering about her room for half an hour was not an option. As she turned to leave out of the corner of her eye she caught the image of a familliar logo. A pack of cigarettes sat oh her desk lying open and calling her name. She'd been looking for those this morning. As she reached for them she suddenly hesitated. An image of her standing center stage and coughing madly as a crowd of thousands murmered and whispered amongst themselves made her stomach shift. Grabbing the pack she pulled out the remaining smokes and snapped them in half, tossing the remanants in the garbage. She didnt need them. She'd started a new life today. Head high, she returned to the garage where Nekhalla and Rom were silently admiring the platinum silver bass case. They were both so perfect.
Nekhalla smiled...Rips were no problem for her, she could save almost anything, and if she couldn't she could make a new one. She wasn't that way with friendships though. These ones looked promising though. <span style='color:purple'>Hey no worries about the rip, thats easy enough to fix. For that matter, I could make you a new one anyway you want. Oh and don't worry about messing up put it this way, as long as you get it out of your system before you get on stage your fine. Standard, even the best did it. For that matter, even the Humans did it.</span> Ah yes the infamous human bands that Nekhalla knew so well. She had her favorites that her grandpa had given to her before he died in the war. She had cds upon cds of music from Earth, she knew everylast one of them too. She even had some sheet music from some of the bands. Her cds were in her room next to the sewing machine in boxes there were about three of them. Each was labeled carefully. Oh how she loved music, it was part of her life like drawing and drumming. That was the one thing in her opinion the humans got right, was music.
Rom looked at sketch astonished for several moments. They actually wanted her in the band this was amazing. Rom watched Sketch doodle off to go to something or other and turned to Nekhalla who had begun to speak. And smiled. I donÂ’t figure itÂ’s even worth fixing. Its so old n worn might as well just throw it out now. She smiled and took the shirt Sketch had offered her she threw it on over her white undershirt. It fit her a bit big but she didnÂ’t mind it was better then nothing. She looked down at the design on the front admiring it for a few moments then turning to the other two. Her band mates, her new family. She had done her research on bands of the past, they were able to bond like no other people can, and she had never known what it was like to belong to something. A large feeling of fulfillment had made residence in her state of mind. <span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class=ooc><tr><td>sorry shitty post feel like crap tonight</td></tr></table>
So here they were. Her dream was coming to pass all in the course of a less than twenty four hours. However, they were still short a guitarist, a vital element of a band. 'Thats alright' she thought. 'Still lots of time.' She gazed upon her two new bandmates, perfect misfits. All at once she was eager to get started, filled with a new childish excitement. <span style='color:gray'>"Alright guys... what kind of music do you like? I'm pretty flexable. By trade, I'm a hard-rock girl, but I'm a fan of any quality music. I'm also a big fan of ancient earth music. I've got a bunch of old cd's and a cd player inside. Pink Floyd, Tool, System of a Down just to start. What do you guys like?"</span> Although she could already partially predict their answer, she still had to know. Even if they all didnt completely agree on band favoritism, she was sure they could come to a compromise and develop their own original style to give to the world. After all, they were not on earth and should by no means mimic the ancient style, despite its remarkable quality.
Rommi looks at Sketch and thinks for a moment. Favorite type of music she had loved all of it she heard, it was true she hadn’t heard all that much to make a clear opinion. It all sounded the same to her beautiful. Some she found easier to listen to then other and was prone to listening to those bands with more of a masculine and darker tone but she still loved it all. “I don’t believe I have an actual favorite type, I find all of it very beautiful. Mind you I haven’t hear much other then from this little box in the shower that sings to me, I believe it’s called a radio. I try to sing along with it but I am not to good at it. I think I shall just stick to my bass if you don’t mind please, we suit each other. It some times feels like it is a part of my body and I never want to part from it." Rommi kind of spaced off for a few moments looking to her bass as if it was calling to her telling her valuable secrets and she began to hum to her self. Suddenly she snapped back to reality to see the two staring at her. She tried to act as if nothing had happened as she shifted her weight back on her leg and waited for Nekhalla to reply. Every few seconds her glanced back down at her instrument making sure it had not decided to grow legs and walk away.
<span style='color:purple'>Favorite tunes eh? Rock in general is my favorite. Anything hard, soft, alternitive. Though it does seem my collection has just a few more alternitives then anything else</span> When she said a few more it was literally two or three. It wasn't that many. She decided to lean back on the stool and promptly fell over backwards. With her feet still sticking up in the air, she pointed accusingly at the ceiling (even though it didn't do anything) <span style='color:purple'>Nobody saw that!</span> She carefully picked herself back up and said something in a language no one in the room would understand. She sat the stool back up and decided that it was not a good idea to lean back. So she was content with doing stick tricks and watching the light play off the shinyness of the sticks. She did have a very interesting watch on, it was pink. Once again, it was a reminant from Earth. It was digital and if you pressed the light button it flashed three different colors and a pink fishy swam across where the day on the watch was. It also had fifteen earth times programed into it. On the back of it, etched was the brand name 'Fossil' it was the only watch she owned. It had a bit of wear and tear on it but it was still in pretty good condition, it reflected its owner, pretty beat up but still ticking.
Running through lists and lists of old songs, Sketch wracked her brain trying to think of one that both girls would know as well as be a good song. A classic. Hmm. "Surely you guys know Chop Suey. From the first system of a down cd." It had been her favorite song for the longest time, but was also overplayed. Ridiculously overplayed. But given an adequate rest, it could live again. She had not heard it on the radio for a year or two now. It seemed everyone else had put it to rest as well. Was it rested? Maybe.
