ᏦᏞᎪᏁᎬ (ᏟᎥᏆᎽ ᏒᎾᏞᎬᏢᏞᎪᎽ) discussion

(So sad.
Not the one in New York)

Clarissa was walking around the park frustrated. She was angry with her mother. "Why did she have go and use my money on drugs." She said outloud. She kicked a rock, not caring about the world.

((Do you want to be the robbers or should I?))

((, we can take turns doing it, when your character shows up then I'll be the robbers but, I think you should do it now))

(Kk)

Zen walked through some alley's near the park. He smiled giddily as he walked, then his phone rang. "Jesus.." he grumbled as he shoved his hand in his pocket and dug around for it.

Meanwhile, some suspicious looking figures lurked in the shadows near the park, looking for their next victim.

Clarissa paced, she was nervous about going home. Her father would yell at her for yelling at her mom. It wasn't her fault that she was insane. Her phone buzzed with a text. She took it out and closed her eyes. "No...not now" she whispered.

"What." asked Zen flatly into the phone. "So? All I did was snap his wrist? Jeez" said Zen, rolling his eyes. "I'm in a generally ha- I'll have to call..you back.." Said Zen, tapping the red button to hang up. Two figures in all black snuck in front of him, nearing towards the park.

The two suspicious figures, both male had spotted a target, a girl in the park, pacing.

Clarissa shoved her phone into her purse and put her hands in her pockets. She started to walk to the entrance of the park but, was distracted by the flowers, she stopped and smelled the roses.

One of the men crept up behind the girl and moved swiftly, he put his hands over her mouth. "HEy pretty lady. Mind giving us all your cash..oh wait, that wasn't a question"

Clarissa tried to scream but she couldn't. She tried to grab the switchblade from the back of her jeans. She tried again to yell for help.

The man tightened his grip on her. "C'mon now, don't make a scene" said the man, going to reach for her purse. Suddenly he stopped.

The tip of Zen'a switchblade had pierced the skin on the nape of the man's neck. "I'm going to give you till the count of three. Let go of the girl, Now!" he barked, pressing the blade deeper.

Clarissa heard a voice behind her, she wanted to see who it was but she couldn't. She squeezed her eyes shut. She tried again to reach for her switchblade

The man lowered his hands, blood trickling down the back of his. "Turn around!" Snapped Zen. A sickening crack filled the air as Zen's fist colided with the man's face, he fell to the groups, unconscious.

Clarissa stood up and grabbed the switchblade from the back of her jeans. She flicked it open, she whipped around. She held it up, "Are you with them," she said pointing to the man on the ground.

Zen rolled his eyes. "As if I'd be with one of those sick bastards." He said, even though Black Fang wasn't that much better, although they had a good cause I guess.

Clarissa brought down the switchblade, she closed it and shoved it in her back pocket. "I think I might know you." She said. She picked up her purse and tucked her hair behind her ears.

He arched an eyebrow. "Well. Honestly, everyone knows me. I'm quite famous around these parts!" He said confidently, even though it wasn't that true.

"I know you, your the leader of the Black Fang." She said, "My father is in it." She looked down. "Nice meeting you, I have to get home to deal with my mother"

Zen sighed. "You really don't know how these things work do you. You've witnessed a gang crime." He said, seriously.

"No, i don't, I live with my mentally insane mother and weird smart sisters" She said. She looked away.

"You'll be a future target for that gang! That means they'll come after you, thinking you know intel about us.." he said.

"I don't my dad nevers tells us anything when he comes back." She said.

"By talking to me!" He said as he pouted at himself. "I'm the leader, I know everything.."

"of course you know everything" She said. "um...... I have to get home"

"Oh. Well. Stay safe. If you think anyone's watching you, just try and come by the gang. You know where it's at..right?" Asked Zen

"of course I do, my father used to take me when I was younger, he's expecting me to join." She said, "but....I don't want too"

"Well. Gangs aren't for everyone" he said. "Stay safe" Zen glanced down at the unconscious man.

"I will, goodbye" Clarissa Said. She walked away and went to her car. She got in and pulled away.

"Yeah. Goodbye" he said as he waved. Then Xen spun around on his heel, "accidentally kicking the man in the face and left.

((byeeeee))

Namjoon glanced up from his seat on one of the hard wooden benches. Flipping his page's corner over, he eased the old, fragile book close and smiled at Seokjin. "Hi," he said kindly.

He flushed slightly, realizing his awkward situation. He gave a smile smile and paused, unsure of what to do next. "Ermm... how are you?" Nice job, he thought to himself sarcastically. Now he'll just think I'm weird or a creep.

"I doing well," Namjoon responded. "Nice weather, we're having," he said without a single sarcastic word. "It's beautiful around here at this time of year."

He shook his head. "I don't mind! Please do." Namjoon moved over slightly so there was more room. He grabbed his small stack of old poetry books off the bench and set it down on the ground next to him.

"Yeah... it's a hobby of mine." He leaned over, grabbed a book, and sat straight again. Namjoon flipped open the cover and flipped through the pages absentmindedly. "Do you like to read?"

"Anything really. As of now, I'm mostly just going through classics for my classes." He held up a worn book with an odd illustration of a face on it titled Demian. "I'm currently reading this one. It's quite good."

((peaches and cream sweeter than sweet chocolate cheeks and chocolate wings)) ((oh crap I haven't read it *looking up plot synopsis on wikipedia*))

Namjoon bit his lip, forming a summary. "So... there's a young boy named Emil Sinclair, and his entire existence can be summarized as a struggle between two worlds, illusion and real. I'm not too far into it, but it's really quite inspiring."

((I lyric pranked my friend with that and she got so confused it was hilarious))

Namjoon smiled back. "It really is," he reassured the man. He grabbed his stack of books off the ground and rested them on his legs as he quickly shoved his notes and papers that were wedged between the books into a neat pile.

((*the struggles* I made my friend watch the dance practice I couldn't get her to watch the mv))

"I'm Namjoon," he said happily. "Yeah, I'm a student. Writing school," he explained, then cocked his head to the side. "Are you?"

((my friends don't get confused anymore, they just get scared))

"Nice to meet you too," Namjoon responded, his face contorted in confusion. "Wait, why are going if you don't want to?" he questioned, then flushed. "You don't have to answer that. Sorry!"

((oh dear))

"Oh, I'm sorry," he grimaced at his stupidity. "If you don't mind me asking, what would you do if you had the choice?"

((*hands tissues*))

"That sounds cool," he replied. "I've never been able to cook, but that seems intriguing. Do you cook much?"

"Nice," he said with a kind grin. He could see Seokjin trying to hold in his excitement, and it was refreshing to see someone so enthusiastic over something. "What do you like to cook?"

((he eats a lot.... i just watched 6 minutes of him and kookie eating. Those 6 minutes were not wasted))

Namjoon gave a small laugh. "I've always been an eater... sometimes too much for my own good, but that's besides the point."

((nice. in english i was just watching the Jungkook perfect man focus over and over again while trying to to cry at his beauty))

Namjoon quickly slapped the papers down on his pile of books, careful not to let them fall to the ground. "Sorry," he winced.

((noice))

After all the papers were neatly tucked inside a book, Namjoon let out a sigh of relief. "I honestly don't know why I bring those notes with me anywhere; I don't even really need them anymore!" he exclaimed.

((I was freaking out since I woke up late so I was running around my house to get ready and not miss the bus, and then i couldn't watch it at school so I literally just watched them and started sobbing in pride))

He nodded. "It's so much easier to just carry around a hone or iPad or something, but my professor insists that we keep our notes on paper."

((*the struggles of not knowing Korean*))

He smiled and sighed. "I know, but still..." He scratched the back of his neck. "It can still be a bit of a pain, even if it's one of the main points of the class."

((DID YOU SEE SEVENTEENS NEW MUSIC VIDEO???? *the bias wrecker*))

"Lucky," Namjoon complained. "It's actually a part of our grade that we have tangible notes. My teacher is talented, but quite old-fashioned. I only keep my book catalog on my laptop."

((Its too overwhelming to watch them there's TOO MANY))

"It's not a big part of it," he explained. "It's just my professor is a bit... weird." He smiled back. "But then again, aren't all the greatest artists and writers?"

((Right now I'm stuck between woozi and hoshi help))

He gave a small laugh, "I suppose. I wouldn't exactly call my works great, but you certainly got the weird part right about me."