&.&.let's get LOST !

[oliver luke wolf]

come on & run, come get lost with me
SLIP AWAY DISCREETLY.

[/b][/center][/font]

• • •

The boy looked up at the sun, shading his eyes with his hand. The afternoon light bathed the whole park in a warm glow making his skin tingle and his muscles subconsciously relax. There was something so wonderful about this time of day. It seemed like nothing could ruin this perfect moment. There were few people in the park, and most of them were old and half asleep. Oliver had never been here before, but he felt like today was unlike many of the days previous. Today was a day of opportunity, of excitement and adventure; or at least that's what his daily horoscope had said. He shrugged and walked around the little path encircling the pond, glancing every now and then at the ducks that swam and squawked in the water.

"Bread crumbs, bread crumbs. Get your bread crumbs for the ducks!" A frail old voice called out in the perfect silence. The sound practically made him jump as the whole park had been silent a minute ago, save the faint rustling of the trees. For some reason, he found his feet leading him over to the old woman. She was hunched over and smiling crookedly; for some reason, it caused him to smile politely back. He asked the price for a bag in broken french and was soon handed a paper bag rustling with the hidden treasure inside. He walked to the edge of the pond, crouching in the shade of a tree. For several minutes, he sat silently in the grass, studying the small, squirming creatures with interest. In a short while, he had already discovered the ducks he liked best. The smallest and shyest he dubbed Tiny T, and the most magnificent he named Sir Walton Benedict. All of this seemed quite normal to him.

He tossed a couple crumbs into the water and watched the chaos ensue. Fifteen or so ducks began splashing and fluttering at once, crying out with alarm and excitement over a mere handful of breadcrumbs. He couldn't help laughing at the sight, and began to cheer for 'his birds'. Things like,"You can do it, T man!" and "I believe in you, Walt!" escaped his lips as he leaned over the pond, cupping his hands around his mouth. He became so engrossed in the 'game' that he didn't even notice the odd looks several people flung his way. But Oliver was too into the drama of action packed pond life to notice. The struggles and adversity of Tiny T were much more important than the opinions of the people in the park. How could he even try to be concerned for his social image when the ducks he was rooting for were putting everything they had ever worked for at stake? The answer was simple: he couldn't.

And so, for a half an hour more, he immersed himself into this lively world of birds and breadcrumbs, laughing and yelling and howling. He finally realized that he was the sole source of noise in the whole entire park and immediately quieted down with a few chuckles to spare.

But the excitement soon faded and he was left with a dull boredom. How easily he tired of one thing and moved on to another, as if he were a five year old debating between playing with blocks or legos. He still sat there, every now and then tossing a few crumbs into the air and watching them fall noiselessly into the water, sending ducks flying in every which way. He leaned against the tree trunk, looking up at the branches and leaves forming an elaborate canopy above him. Beams of light shone through and burned odd patterns into his eyes, leaving him blinking and rubbing his eyes vigorously. "Dear me. Someone call a doctor, I think I'm seeing blue spots."

• • •

This shrimpy post is for anyone who can write. Mr. Wolf is wearing clothes and this post issix-hundred thirty-seven words. Thank you Patrick Wolf for writing your wonderful song, Get Lost, this was made by me and I just want to let you know that: THIS IS A REALLY SHRIMPY POST AND KIND OF BADLY WRITTEN, SORRY

[/b].
[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

[Jacqueline Chaffee]

Bright, intruding rays forced blood-shot eyes to squint shut. From a pocket out of the obnoxiously yellow coat emerged a pair of sunglasses, rather large and darkly tinted. The sun, she couldn’t bare it at this moment. A night of binge drinking, chain smoking among other things filled her memories to the brim. Most of them were blurry, and she could almost recall blacking out at one point. The woman’s fingers shook as a cigarette was placed between them, however, reaching into the same yellow pocket, no lighter could be found. As the red-headed woman walked she continued searching the few pockets on her coat, but alas, no lighter or pack of matches emerged. A heavy sigh, the cigarette was not placed back into the pack but lingered between her fingers. Jacqueline continued on walking, letting her now protected eyes enjoy what she could of the pond and the surrounding park. It had been a few days since the woman had left her house, let alone visit such a popular area such as a park.


Her attire, normally quite fashionable seemed somewhat lazy, no high heels adorned her feet and she hadn’t bothered to grab a purse and coordinate the outfit. Thinking back to that now, it would probably have been a good idea, since a lighter was bound to be in her purse of all places. Rather than smoking the much needed cigarette, Jacqui watched the people in the park. In the distance she could hear the voice of an older woman calling, selling breadcrumbs. As far as Jacqueline knew, this woman came to the park almost every day, selling the breadcrumbs to people from the same exact spot. However, she didn’t exactly visit the park everyday so this could be an exaggeration. The old woman came into sight as she walked along, for once not having to cope with the clicking of her heels against the ground. It was a relatively beautiful day, especially nice to be in the park. She found it was a rare occasion to indulge in the recreations her town and was starting to find them quite lovely.


As always, the Polaroid camera clanked lightly at her side. Though she was hung-over, and in no condition to be operating a camera, she had brought it along with her anyway. You never knew when inspiration was going to hit and she wanted to make sure to capture it. Low music played from the one ear bud in the woman’s ear. She always found it more enjoyable to have life to a soundtrack. Though, most of the artists she listened to were in English. Luckily for Jacqui, she had learned English throughout childhood and could still speak and understand the language fairly well, though she had very little chances to do so, now that she had lost her job. Lingering on the thought of the past few moments, Jacqui sighed, twirling the cigarette between her fingers as she gazed around, perhaps she could find someone with a lighter?


Her eyes wandered, searching for someone who looked relatively polite or generally easy to talk to. Her eyes continued to wander until she spotted a male, sitting under a tree not too far away. Jacquie bit her lip lightly; he couldn’t possibly see her looking at him through the darkened lenses of her sunglasses. Debating, she began walking towards him, though he seemed slightly distracted admiring the leaves. Jacqueline put on the best smile she could muster up as she waved her hand lightly. “Excusez-moi? Parlez-vous français? ” The female questioned as she drew rather close, almost up the tree, unsure how to approach the situation.

*~~~~~~~*

Woo, lets get this started. By the way Jacqueline is wearing www.polyvore.com/lazy_day/set?id=14956204 x.x Don't know how to make it a hyperlink within text xD Im old.

[oliver luke wolf]

come on & run, come get lost with me
SLIP AWAY DISCREETLY.

[/b][/center][/font]

• • •

Oliver jumped at the sound of a woman's voice; not old and faltering, but young and strong. He looked up, not bothering to stand, and shaded his eyes. A young woman stood in front of him, unlighted cigarette in hand, looking a little tired, but brightly dressed. Even her hair was a vibrant shade of red. He smiled politely and tried his hardest to come up with even a few meager French words or phrases he had picked up in his travel guide, but all his attempts were in vain. Instead, he gave up and crossed his fingers, hoping she knew some English. "Um, no, sorry, as you will have noticed by now, I kinda suck." He had heard tell of the dreaded French who detested Americans and their 'undignified' ways, and was hoping this girl wasn't one of them. "I'm actually an American, and although I have no knowledge at all of French, I'm flattered that you think I know even one word of your beautiful language. But chances are, you have no clue what I'm saying either." He laughed in a hopeless way. She probably knew as much English as he knew French, so what was the point? "I'm just hanging out here with my duck friends. Believe it or not, they make great companions although they are a tad loud." He ended with a shrug and a toss of more breadcrumbs into the gently rippling water at his feet.

He watched the birds for a moment, although his thoughts were somewhere else entirely. He was surprisingly absent-minded today, which was quite unusual for him especially. He almost forgot about the girl standing there silently, red hair waving in the wind, dark sunglasses shading her eyes. It almost made her look mysterious, those glasses. It was impossible to tell where she was looking or what she was thinking. Eyes are very expressive, and it always seemed odd to Oliver when they weren't visible. For all he knew, she might be glaring at him right now, giving him a death stare. Or she could be silently laughing at him. Whatever it was that she was doing, he'd never know. But then, maybe it was better he didn't.

It was often this way with people. They would really rather not know those terrible thoughts other people secretly nurtured in the darkest depths of their minds. Or at least it was this way with Oliver. He had never been the scholarly type, and through his whole twenty-five years on Earth, he had only picked up one phrase that really stayed with him: Ignorance is bliss.

He stood up now, brushing himself off and combing back his hair with his fingers. From the mysterious depths of his pockets, he withdrew a pack of cigarettes and lit one, raising it to his lips. A cigarette was always a good way for him to relax, especially in a place like this park. There was nothing to excite him or anger him, only peaceful calm. Leaning against the tree, he stared long and hard at the girl, sizing her up in every way imaginable. He often bragged about his "special skills", when it came to first impressions. How he could quite skillfully determine someone's personality; their quirks, what they liked and disliked, what music they listened to in a mere glance. Although he never admitted it, it was just his own semi-accurate formula based on simple variables such as clothes, first words, and the like. "Well, I'm Oliver." he said with finality, extending a hand out to her in a friendly gesture. He hoped she would accept. "And judging by your unused cigarette, it looks like you need a light."

Holding the lighter in one hand, and his cigarette in the other, he managed to flip the lighter around with his thumb so its butt end was facing her. He guessed he'd done it so many times for passing strangers, it had become second nature to him. "By all means, take it. I'm very well known for my generosity. He grinned. It was obvious that he was lying.

• • •

This shrimpy post is FOR ANYONE WHO CAN WRITE

[/color]. mr. wolf is wearing CLOTHES and this post is SIX-HUNDRED-EIGHTY-THREE WORDS. Thank you PATRICK WOLF for writing your wonderful song, GET LOST, this was made by ME and I just want to let you know that: JUST PUT IT IN URL TAGS. ;)[/b].
[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

[Jacqueline Chaffee]

Jacqueline noticed his surprise, and smiled the friendliest smile she could muster up. She could see that he was nervous or perhaps just genuinely surprised. She looked the male up and down from behind her glasses, knowing very well he could see the eyes taking shelter behind them. A frown crossed her lips as she heard his answer in English, shaking her head lightly. She found, finding American tourists on the street and trying to approach them to normally be difficult. It was a task in itself to find an American that could speak French well. As he continued speaking, rather than interrupt him she let him babble on, actually finding his banter quite amusing. Being French herself, she lacked the ability to believe her language was more beautiful than any other. Who was she to say that French was more beautiful than Italian or Spanish? Her head turned, noticing the ducks as he mentioned them. The music continued to stream from her mp3 player, developing into a rather relaxing and pretty scene.
The Polaroid came to her eye level, however, before she could capture anything she remembered to remove the sunglasses from her eyes, placing them on her head for the moment. The shutter clicked, the mechanics in the camera whined, a picture cranked out. She placed the Camera back at her side, looking towards the American male for a moment before placing her glasses back on as well, shaking the Polaroid film in her hand until the image of ducks on a pond, munching on their bread crumb goodies appeared. Jacqui never quite considered herself to have a mysterious personality, but then again she never considered much about her personality. Rather than focus on herself, she preferred to enjoy the world around her and that meant knowing the people of the world especially.
In his moment of silence was where Jacqueline decided to speak. “Oui, I can see you are an American. I am..how you say…” She paused for a moment, thinking of the English word. “..flattered you think my language is beautiful.” She answered him finally, finding it difficult to formulate these foreign words after such a long period of time. Once the picture was developed, Jacquie found herself handing the film over to the now standing male. “Son pour vous.” She told him with a smile, holding the Polaroid out in front of her. And, realizing the language barrier, said it again in English. “It’s for you.”
If one was to base their first impressions on appearance alone, today would not be the day Jacqueline would want anyone to meet her for the first time. She was not dressed to her best to say the least. Upon waking up, she had found it quite difficult to concoct an outfit with a migraine. Also, it was safe to say she hadn’t planned on meeting anyone new toady. So, rather than pull her body into some slinky, classy number with heels and the works she decided that sweatpants and a few other casuals would suffice. Jacquie found herself wishing she had adorned the heels.
She watched as he stood and lit his cigarette, realizing now why she had walked over to him to begin with. As he introduced himself she straightened u and nodded slightly. “Oui, Oliver. Enchanté.” She laughed lightly, realizing the expressions must sound different to Americans. “Nice to meet you, Oliver. I am Jacqueline. “Her eyebrow rose as she held the cigarette between her lips now, gladly accepting the offer of the lighter and lighting it, putting the flame to the end and letting out a large plume of white smoke. “ Forgive me; it is difficult to put aside my French. I do not get to speak English often, almost never with an American.”
For a moment, she held the lighter in her hand but soon placed it into her pocket. “Ah! Merci, Oliver! You’ve saved me.” She exclaimed, happy to know she would have a lighter on her person for the rest of the day. “Ah, S'il vous plait, take a few. I insist. “ Jacquie told her new-found American acquaintance, digging into her pocket and taking out her own pack of cigarettes. They were French of course, and rather feminine but she saw no issue with this fact and offered them anyway.

[oliver luke wolf]

come on & run, come get lost with me
SLIP AWAY DISCREETLY.

[/b][/center][/font]

• • •

He was completely caught off guard when the woman began to speak English. If it weren't for the fact that he was usually embarrassed on a daily basis, he would have blushed. Instead, all he did was shrug and take another drag on his cigarette. While he stood there against the thick trunk of the tree, she lifted her camera and took a picture, handing it to him. This girl just got stranger and stranger (in a good way, of course). He laughed and happily accepted the picture; a scene of the pond and the ducks feasting on stale bread crumbs. "Wow, thanks. Great photo by the way."

[/color] It wasn't every day that someone gave you their photographs for no discernible reason.

He looked her over again, trying to understand her character. Her attire was, to say the least, unusual. But then, he was no fashionista, and he was kind of glad he wasn't. He also had to take in the fact that she looked tired, maybe a little sick. And to add the fact that she had a polaroid camera around her neck and freely handed pictures out to strangers. So all in all, he guessed her as smart, generous, and slightly quirky girl who didn't mind either staying up late or drinking a lot... or maybe even both. He shrugged again. She seemed like a nice enough person to him.

"So, Jacqueline... what are you doing out here?"[/color] He motioned around the park with his cigarette holding hand. "I mean, you just don't look the type to be wandering aimlessly around here every day."[/color] He realized that he could totally be wrong, but he was just trying to start some conversation between him and this French stranger. He wondered how much they had in common, two strangers from across the world.

"But then, I guess I'm not the park-going type either."[/color] He chuckled and grinned. Why he had come here was still a mystery to him. He had needed a place to relax, he guessed. Anyone who knew him would know that he'd usually never be found hanging out around here, and yet, here he was, feeding ducks and talking to strangers. For some reason, the park in the afternoon was something he couldn't resist. It was quiet, peaceful, warm and sunny. It was why he had come abroad in the first place: to live in some type of care-free paradise if one could be found. And for now, he had found one.

• • •

This shrimpy post is FOR ANYONE WHO CAN WRITE[/color]. mr. wolf is wearing CLOTHES and this post is FOUR-HUNDRED-SOMETHING WORDS (SORRY). Thank you PATRICK WOLF for writing your wonderful song, GET LOST, this was made by ME and I just want to let you know that: THIS IS NOW COMPLETE!![/b].
[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]