01-10-2018, 11:14 PM
The faint sound of laughter could be heard, a gang of people walking around and having a good time, unknown to them were the sorrows of the two primes they were headed to. Since they were still very near the fast food joint it could only be assumed that's where this group was headed.
However, what stood out was after the laughter died down again there was a beat. It's rhythm steady and practiced, its volume growing not only because the distance shortened, but also to amplify its power. It was simple, of course, but it sounded strangely human.
It must have been because of the air that escaped with each push through his lips, or the fact that his voice could be heard in the beat, but this was of course not just a stereo on someone's shoulder. While the beatboxer was probably talented enough to make multiple sounds of his own, a second voice appeared, higher in pitch, making alien sounds that one imagined only a switchboard could produce after a million other things were done to it.
"Ayy." A female's voice cried out with glee, approving of the mix. "Uhn... Uhn.." She clearly was getting into the beat.
Around the corner several people in various layers of clothing walked, seven in total. The trailing three were apparently the one's they had heard, the marching four looking back with grins and nodding to the beat. Apparently they were expecting a good show, at least most of them. Koal could sense pride in the group, a gathering of everyone's feelings for the girl, lust mixing among the emotions but mostly all were there for a good time. It was like the warmth of a familiar hand, for what it was worth.
“On a shootin' star, with light so bright,
Though wish you may, for great might,
You just ain't evah gonna win this fight,”
The rapper was a petite little thing with a big personality and bigger dreams. Her long brown hair was in a single ponytail threaded through the back of her cap, a black baseball hat with gold cogs printed randomly in the fabric. Her eyes were covered by thick shades that reflected the city back at itself with hints of purples and teals in the black mirrors. On her cheek a heart with a cog in the middle, a temporary tattoo perhaps? In her ears were large gold hoops which bounced with every flick of her head. A tin black choker clung to her neck.
“They like to call me 'hunny-bunny',
They think they bein' real, real funny,
But they just jealous, 'cos of all my money,”
She waved her hands about, dotting her I’s and crossing her T’s with the imaginary pen in her hand that wrote her lyrics in her mind. She caught sight of the two under the lamplight and pointed them out as she continued with her rhyme.
She approached, boldly. Her outfit consisted of a tank top that was far too tight and probably too small, but was covered roughly by a zip-up hoodie that was much too big and was worn off her shoulders. She was a small girl of possibly older than 18. Her pants were skin tight, but dark in color and thick enough to tuck into the black and bronze converse shoes she wore. It all was all black and bronze and gold.
The two primes seemed utterly unphased by her approach, while her friends were mixed between fear and humor at how bold this young girl was. The beatboxer was even silenced. But she was not.
“Yeah. Just look at 'em smirk,
When they see me, doin' my work,
But all the bitches, they love this quirk.”
She finalized, looking as cheeky as ever, closer to Koal than Jacket, if only because she had approached them on his opposite side. She left it off with a cocky grin, waiting for them to say something.
However, what stood out was after the laughter died down again there was a beat. It's rhythm steady and practiced, its volume growing not only because the distance shortened, but also to amplify its power. It was simple, of course, but it sounded strangely human.
It must have been because of the air that escaped with each push through his lips, or the fact that his voice could be heard in the beat, but this was of course not just a stereo on someone's shoulder. While the beatboxer was probably talented enough to make multiple sounds of his own, a second voice appeared, higher in pitch, making alien sounds that one imagined only a switchboard could produce after a million other things were done to it.
"Ayy." A female's voice cried out with glee, approving of the mix. "Uhn... Uhn.." She clearly was getting into the beat.
Around the corner several people in various layers of clothing walked, seven in total. The trailing three were apparently the one's they had heard, the marching four looking back with grins and nodding to the beat. Apparently they were expecting a good show, at least most of them. Koal could sense pride in the group, a gathering of everyone's feelings for the girl, lust mixing among the emotions but mostly all were there for a good time. It was like the warmth of a familiar hand, for what it was worth.
“On a shootin' star, with light so bright,
Though wish you may, for great might,
You just ain't evah gonna win this fight,”
The rapper was a petite little thing with a big personality and bigger dreams. Her long brown hair was in a single ponytail threaded through the back of her cap, a black baseball hat with gold cogs printed randomly in the fabric. Her eyes were covered by thick shades that reflected the city back at itself with hints of purples and teals in the black mirrors. On her cheek a heart with a cog in the middle, a temporary tattoo perhaps? In her ears were large gold hoops which bounced with every flick of her head. A tin black choker clung to her neck.
“They like to call me 'hunny-bunny',
They think they bein' real, real funny,
But they just jealous, 'cos of all my money,”
She waved her hands about, dotting her I’s and crossing her T’s with the imaginary pen in her hand that wrote her lyrics in her mind. She caught sight of the two under the lamplight and pointed them out as she continued with her rhyme.
She approached, boldly. Her outfit consisted of a tank top that was far too tight and probably too small, but was covered roughly by a zip-up hoodie that was much too big and was worn off her shoulders. She was a small girl of possibly older than 18. Her pants were skin tight, but dark in color and thick enough to tuck into the black and bronze converse shoes she wore. It all was all black and bronze and gold.
The two primes seemed utterly unphased by her approach, while her friends were mixed between fear and humor at how bold this young girl was. The beatboxer was even silenced. But she was not.
“Yeah. Just look at 'em smirk,
When they see me, doin' my work,
But all the bitches, they love this quirk.”
She finalized, looking as cheeky as ever, closer to Koal than Jacket, if only because she had approached them on his opposite side. She left it off with a cocky grin, waiting for them to say something.
![[Image: tumblr_maolcpnQS61qakj1do1_500.gif]](https://78.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_maolcpnQS61qakj1do1_500.gif)
Warning: Anything that involves Ash should be rated M. Possibly higher.
Erik Vrell : Ash has a 'love' fourth dimensional shape
Erik Vrell : As in its wide and unfathomable for us mere mortals