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Post by Mustapha on Feb 24, 2009 0:46:57 GMT -5
Mustapha hid in a corner, trying to make sense of what she had just seen. It had to be hers. It was in her clothing in her room.
She shook the previous memories and slid down the wall into a ball. "No... no, it's not supposed to be like that!" She sobbed quietly, glad the darkness of the corner would hide any oncoming tears.
She was crying so loudly she didn't hear the cowboy boots coming her way.
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Post by Scaramouche on Feb 24, 2009 10:20:57 GMT -5
Scaramouche hummed slightly as she walked down the long tunnel that was lined with the many bedrooms occupied by the Bohemians. She was headed towards her room to pick up her guitar and try to play a new rift that she had just thought up when she heard the sound of sobbing, very familiar sobbing.
" Mustapha?" she asked quietly as she peered down the adjoining hallway and she spotted the young bass played curled up in a ball in a dark corner, with her face burried in her gloved hands and her tiny shoulders shaking with sobs.
Scaramouche quiclky shuffled down the hall, towards Mustapha. She coutched down next to her and nudged her lightly. " Phapha?" she asked.
No reponse.
Scaramouche narrowed her eyes and grabbed the pink haired girl's face between her hands and forced her to look up and face her.
"Mustapha." she growled firmly. " Stop wailing like a baby and tell me what's wrong."
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Post by Mustapha on Feb 25, 2009 0:18:58 GMT -5
Mustapha felt her face jerk up and her vision cleared as her tears ran from her eyes down her cheeks. The purple hair and green eyes became quite clear and she was about to smile. Then she remembered why she had been crying.
" Stop wailing like a baby and tell me what's wrong."
She smacked Scaramouche's hands off and pulled herself further into the corner.
"Oh like you don't already know!" She snapped back and let her nostrils flare slightly before looking back into her lap
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Post by Scaramouche on Feb 25, 2009 10:25:51 GMT -5
Scaramouche let out a tiny hiss of anger and shock when Mustapha slapped her hands away and pressed herself even more into the corner.
"Oh like you don't already know!"
She frowned and stood up, crossing her skinny arms over her chest.
"No, I don't know!" she snarled back. "And I wouln't mind if you told me what's bothering you but, you seem to be too busy acting like little miss whiny bitch to explain!"
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Post by Mustapha on Feb 26, 2009 1:24:53 GMT -5
Mustapha glared at Scaramouche, "Oh you really don't know huh?!" She growled before standing up and grabbing Scaramouche's hand from it's folded position and dragging her to her's and Gaz's bedroom. She pushed Scaramouche in, not even bothering to be nice now and slammed the door shut.
"so... if I'm a whiny bitch... what does THIS make you?!" She snarled aggressively before pulling out a needle from a pile of her clothing. "Tell me 'Miss Mouche', what does that make you?!" She said, holding back her tears for anger and throwing the glass instrument on the floor.
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Post by Scaramouche on Feb 26, 2009 7:31:42 GMT -5
( Quick question. I'm guessing this is just a random rp you thought up. because it just popped up while we we're getting the plot started)
Scaramouche gapped open mouth like a goldfish for a few moments, staring down at the syringe with wide eyes. That little glass object wasn't hers, she wouldn't be stupid enough to even think about doing drugs. But it was in her's and Gaz room, so it could only mean one thing...
"How..." she paused and took a deep breath "How did you find this?" she asked in a weak voice, seating herself on the edge of the bed.
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Post by Mustapha on Feb 26, 2009 14:23:27 GMT -5
(ahaha yeah I just thought it up, probably should've explained that ) Mustapha scowled. "I was looking for an extra string for my bass, I left it in here ealier..." She said hatefully, she knews what needles could do if they weren't sterilised. Whoever used them would end up just like Freddie.
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Post by Scaramouche on Feb 26, 2009 17:37:13 GMT -5
Scaramouche blinked, her eyes still focused on the syringe lying on the floor. That single tiny object explained so much, opened her eyes to the truth. All those times, she thought numbly. He was so secretive lately, barely talking to me, oh God Gazza why?
If those needles he was using weren't properly sterilized, he could get very sick... and she could too.
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Post by Mustapha on Feb 27, 2009 0:18:48 GMT -5
Mustapha's face melted from a hateful glare into a sad, confused face she so often wore. "Scaramouche..." She waited for the girl to lift her head. "It isn't yours?" She asked softly. She was so sure, it was in her cloithing after all...had she just made things worse?
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Post by Scaramouche on Feb 27, 2009 18:54:29 GMT -5
Scaramouche faintly heard Mustapha whimper out a question, asking once again if the syringe was hers.
" Not it's not." she mumbled faintly, still staring blankly at the floor. " It's not..."
She was beginning to all of her shock beginning and fade away, and quickly getting replaced by anger. Rage towards the young man she loved deeply and desperately.
" That idiot!" she suddenly screeched, slamming her fist down on the bed. She jumped up and angrily kicked the wall, the door, the bed, anything she could reach.
" He knows!" she screamed, partially to herself, ignoring the throbbing pain in her foot. " He knows that he could get sick and-"
Her furious screams where suddenly chocked off by and strangled, gasping, sob and she sank slowly to the floor. She brought her knees up to her chest and cried, dry, tearless sobs.
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Post by Mustapha on Feb 27, 2009 21:47:58 GMT -5
Mustapha watched Scaramouche's rant in fear and silence, keeping perfectly still, hoping she would somehow camoflage into the wall. Just then Scaramouche dropped to the floor in a burst of tears. Mustapha's jaw dropped and she snapped it shut and thought on her feet of what Scaramouche did when she was sad.
She stepped over silently and wrapped two arms around the huddled figure, humming softly.
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Post by Scaramouche on Feb 28, 2009 17:25:18 GMT -5
Scaramouche jumped slightly when she felt Mustapha rap her arms around her and glanced up at her young friend.
" Wow." she muttered in a broken voice " It looks like the tables have turned. I'm usually the one hugging you."
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Post by Mustapha on Feb 28, 2009 18:22:07 GMT -5
Mustapha smiled weakly but her mind was too troubled to laugh or really achknowlege the little dig. "What're you gonna do?" she asked quietly, seating herself next to Scaramouche cross legged and fiddling with a stray string on Scaramouche's arm thingies (as she liked to call them)
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Post by Scaramouche on Feb 28, 2009 19:01:15 GMT -5
Scaramouche let out a sigh and sat up straight, running a hand through her hair.
" Well, what else can I do other than talk to him?" she said." I just have to understand why he would even think about doing this."
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Post by Mustapha on Feb 28, 2009 19:11:32 GMT -5
Mustapha nodded and stayed seated, looking up at Scaramouche for once instead of eye to eye. She chewed her lip for a moment before saskign quietly if she could come too.
"I want to be there... I really do..." She added on looking at her feet.
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