11-27-2019, 07:50 PM
[align=center][div style="width: 350px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 7pt; letter-spacing: 1.2px; word-spacing: 0px; line-height: 12px; color: #000"] Ian hadn't always been so alone.
Once, life began with two parents and a sister - it had actually seemed relatively normal at first. Too normal, actually. With a nagging mother and an emotionally absent father, it was no wonder both children grew up... strange. But, that was the consequence of a strange upbringing staged by two parents who did not know how to be parents.
When dad left, the family found themselves jumping from group to group, reaping the benefits and then leaving when people began to get impatient with them. But, Ian was turbulent; such a small frame bubbling with such anger. He was so angry, yet bottled it up so well. As if he was not troubled. It was no wonder his mother and sister wanted him to leave - and so, he did.
Sure, he spent some time alone for a while; the silence had been comfortable actually, as opposed to the constant bickering he'd once endured with his mother. He just wanted to be the perfect son. Upon meeting Rae in one of the groups he'd stopped by, he realized that he never actually wanted to hear the silence again.
Her bickering was annoying, but he loved her for it. And so, when she died, Ian felt his compassion and love leave with her (not that there was much, or any, to begin with). In the time between her death to the present, the silence had never felt so loud. But, he supposed that he shouldn't feel special. Many people felt lonely nowadays, even whilst they may not have been alone in a room. The room could be bustling with people, but sometimes it was hard to not feel vacant and invisible to the world.
Ian wanted something to make him feel alive.
Eyes were cautious as he noted figures on the outskirts of the city, and perhaps he would've kept more to himself if it wasn't for the very fact that one figure was quite bizarrely masked. He blinked - what were they wearing? If he could not answer that from where he stood, he'd then shuffle on ahead to figure out for himself. Upon nearing the group, he was baffled to see a rabbit mask affixed to the currently ❛faceless❜ figure, adorned in thick clothing and a handful of weapons.
Was this a prank?
He stopped nearby, a visibly moody slouch on his lips as he otherwise stared impassively towards the figure. Jerome finished speaking, and a second of silence filled the space before Ian gestured towards the rabbit mask and mumbled, ❝ Your mask is pretty shit. ❞ That was the best welcome one would receive from Ian Edevane.
Welcome to Los Santos, he then contemplated internally. He hoped that this mysterious figure felt as daunted as everybody else seemed with them.
// ic opinions ofc !
Once, life began with two parents and a sister - it had actually seemed relatively normal at first. Too normal, actually. With a nagging mother and an emotionally absent father, it was no wonder both children grew up... strange. But, that was the consequence of a strange upbringing staged by two parents who did not know how to be parents.
When dad left, the family found themselves jumping from group to group, reaping the benefits and then leaving when people began to get impatient with them. But, Ian was turbulent; such a small frame bubbling with such anger. He was so angry, yet bottled it up so well. As if he was not troubled. It was no wonder his mother and sister wanted him to leave - and so, he did.
Sure, he spent some time alone for a while; the silence had been comfortable actually, as opposed to the constant bickering he'd once endured with his mother. He just wanted to be the perfect son. Upon meeting Rae in one of the groups he'd stopped by, he realized that he never actually wanted to hear the silence again.
Her bickering was annoying, but he loved her for it. And so, when she died, Ian felt his compassion and love leave with her (not that there was much, or any, to begin with). In the time between her death to the present, the silence had never felt so loud. But, he supposed that he shouldn't feel special. Many people felt lonely nowadays, even whilst they may not have been alone in a room. The room could be bustling with people, but sometimes it was hard to not feel vacant and invisible to the world.
Ian wanted something to make him feel alive.
Eyes were cautious as he noted figures on the outskirts of the city, and perhaps he would've kept more to himself if it wasn't for the very fact that one figure was quite bizarrely masked. He blinked - what were they wearing? If he could not answer that from where he stood, he'd then shuffle on ahead to figure out for himself. Upon nearing the group, he was baffled to see a rabbit mask affixed to the currently ❛faceless❜ figure, adorned in thick clothing and a handful of weapons.
Was this a prank?
He stopped nearby, a visibly moody slouch on his lips as he otherwise stared impassively towards the figure. Jerome finished speaking, and a second of silence filled the space before Ian gestured towards the rabbit mask and mumbled, ❝ Your mask is pretty shit. ❞ That was the best welcome one would receive from Ian Edevane.
Welcome to Los Santos, he then contemplated internally. He hoped that this mysterious figure felt as daunted as everybody else seemed with them.
// ic opinions ofc !
[align=center]
I'M BURNING BRIDGES, I DESTROY THE MIRAGE
[div style="width: 400px; font-family: georgia; text-align: center; font-size: 5pt; line-height: 1; letter-spacing: 2.6px; word-spacing: 1.9px; margin-bottom: 5px;"]ALL VISIONS OF COLLISIONS, FUCKING BON VOYAGE — truce.#1303
《 WRITING &. PINTEREST &. SPOTIFY 》
[div style="width: 400px; font-family: georgia; text-align: center; font-size: 5pt; line-height: 1; letter-spacing: 2.6px; word-spacing: 1.9px; margin-bottom: 5px;"]ALL VISIONS OF COLLISIONS, FUCKING BON VOYAGE — truce.#1303
《 WRITING &. PINTEREST &. SPOTIFY 》