colourexplosion (colourexplosion) wrote,
@ 2008-06-12 02:05:00

Comment on this entry with a character and three prompts - a noun, an adjective, and a verb - and I'll write a little drabble about it.

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	lemonadeandgin 2008-06-13 01:38 am UTC (link)
	Napoleon: Ramses, desirable, arguing Daphne: bird, crimson, running Rex: Roswel, unstoppable, partying (Reply to this)(Thread)

	colourexplosion 2008-06-13 06:59 pm UTC (link)
	Daphne A crimson flash in the sky and Daphne screams. Followed by a blue, then a black. A scream accompanies each one. Her parents laugh, and Daphne thinks they must have known taking her to the Bird Conservatory would be a bad idea. (Reply to this)(Parent)

colourexplosion
2008-06-14 07:35 am UTC (link)

Napoleon

"Look, Ramses, I'm sure you're looking for her, but she's not here." Napoleon makes a face at the wall, glad he answered his own phone for once.

"No. I promise. She's not. Try her cellphone. Yes. Okay. Goodbye." He sighs and hangs up the telephone, tapping his pen on the desk. It certainly is desirable, Ramses' methods of wrangling women. Not that women are cows or something that need to be wrangled. Napoleon sighs to himself and rests his head in his hands.

"Mr. Bonaparte?" Ana says, coming into his office, once again forgetting to knock.

"Yeah?"

"The copier's jammed. Can you do that thing where you're like...nice to it or whatever?"

"Yeah, sure." Napoleon gets up from his desk and as he brushes by her, whispers in her ear, "Your boyfriend called. He wants to talk to you."

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colourexplosion
2008-06-15 08:31 pm UTC (link)

Rex

It's another Thebes party. Another. They're constant. Unstoppable. Roswel's here, Rex can see his bright hair through the slews of people. He shakes his head, wondering if he should kick him out. He's still considering it as he walks over to Roswel, a cup in his hand.

"Roswel." It's all he says. It's all he has to. He stares at Roswel for a few moments, still debating in his mind.

"Rex?" the other boy answers uncertainly.

Rex raises an eyebrow. "Have a good time," he says, and then walks away, pushing his way back to Regan through slews of people.

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	dreamandawake 2008-06-13 01:43 am UTC (link)
	Wendy: granola, shopping, orange Juliet: Tyler, running, scared (Reply to this)(Thread)

colourexplosion
2008-06-14 03:18 am UTC (link)

Juliet

Running, Juliet thought as she bolted towards the pile of crushed metal, is an odd sort of reaction to have. The Fight or Flight Response. She'd learned about it, of course, in her psychology classes, but she never thought she'd be faced with it. She never thought she'd be scared enough to need it.

But then again, when she'd heard the crunch of steel on steel and turned to see Tyler's black sedan nearly flattened, she'd screamed and started running. But not running away. Running towards it, screaming his name, tears streaming down her face. Not that she knew where they'd come from. Somewhere in her mind she wondered what category her response would fall under. Flight or Fight?

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colourexplosion
2008-06-15 08:39 pm UTC (link)

Wendy

Wendy hates shopping. Actually, she really likes shopping, but only grocery shopping. She's not grocery shopping right now. She's clothes shopping in the mall. People people people everywhere. She hates it. Hates them. There's an abundance of orange today and it's searing Wendy's eyes, her brain. She puts a hand to her forehead momentarily and sits on a bench.

She digs through her purse for a granola bar. Those always help. Always. It'll help the searing just behind her eyes from the orange and maybe maybe maybe she'll be able to buy Nathaniel a graduation present. Maybe.

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	owllight 2008-06-13 07:57 am UTC (link)
	Johann: lace, smooth, curling (Reply to this)(Thread)

colourexplosion
2008-06-13 06:35 pm UTC (link)

Lace had never felt so smooth, Johann thought as his fingers curled into it. It was an odd thought, for lace to be smooth. It was usually rougher, scratchier. It would leave faint red marks on Johann's skin whenever he brushed against it. That's why he didn't like it. But this- this lace was extraordinary. Smooth. Johann laughed faintly to himself as if he couldn't believe it.

"Smooth lace," he murmured as he turned to the man beside him, holding a piece up. "Smooth." The man smiled at Johann, and took a hold on his wrist. "Johann," he said, sliding his hand up to uncurl the lace from Johann's fingers. "You'll crease it."

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