withoutverona: (emo on the beach)
Romeo had, it was true, said several times yesterday that he wouldn't go looking for a fight.

And he wasn't. Honest. But it was a rainy day, and there was a particular and rather inaccessible corner of the beach that he liked especially well when he was trying to write. He couldn't imagine many zombies would be out yet; if they were, he was armed.

Sitting on a rock, he stared moodily into the ocean and thought about death that was not death.

[OOC: For two zombies in particular and then someone else. Thanks!]
withoutverona: (emo on the beach)
The nice thing about living on the ocean was there was a lot of beach to mope on, and Romeo was prepared to take full advantage of it.

He might just dive into the water and not come back up. That was seeming the attractive option, then.

And someone approached. )

[OOC: ALL DONE! Preplayed with the fantastic [livejournal.com profile] dojima_hime. Follows this, this, this and this. NFB, NFI, OOC OK.]
withoutverona: (emo on the beach)
As he spread out his blanket, Romeo was grateful that habit compelled him to often take his thoughts to the beach. It meant he'd easily remembered this quiet nook, a perfect place for a picnic.

He took a seat and glanced down the beach, smoothing his hair into place again and trying not to fidget. He knew Yurika would be along soon.
withoutverona: (B+W serious)
It wasn't as good as the beaches in Mexico, but there was sand and rocks and water, so there was a Romeo.

Who was very surprised that, when he meant to pick up a pen and write in his journal, he started to sing instead.

So I never knew love until I crossed the line of grace
And I never felt wanted till someone slapped my face
So I never felt alive until I'd almost thrown it away

I had to win - I couldn't just walk
Had to prove I wasn't all talk
My flying colours - My family tree
And all I knew of our history

Please, please, please )


A little baffled by the outburst, he hunched his shoulders against the wind and continued on his walk, pausing briefly to make a call on his cell phone.

The journal was almost forgotten.
[OOC: Apologies to U2. And, yes, open if anyone's on the beach.]
withoutverona: (smoking so beautiful)
It was a cold day, and quiet on the beach, but anyone out for a walk might notice a blond seated on a rock, hugging himself as he stared at the water. A pen and notepad were by his side, but he wasn't actually writing anything.

The last few days couldn't be real. Him, a con man named Frank? It must be some kind of delusion caused by drinking too much during I Never, the foul game. (Which reminded him, he might do well to talk to Inara again.)

And if it wasn't real, it mean he hadn't emptied his bank account and gotten his wallet stolen, and he feared what his father would have to say about that. And he certainly hadn't called Master Skywalker "Pal" or Teyla "sweetie", flirted with two cute sisters (though he had a hard time regretting that one too much, despite his dead wife), gotten drunk with someone from a ship that sank 90 years before, learned way too much about the entertainment industry, or rambled on to Amber about it being 1966.

And no way, no way, had he gotten his life threatened over a mere $300, let alone been enough of a coward to turn and run.

Of course, if it wasn't real, that didn't explain the pilot's cap that had been in his coat pocket that morning. With a final glance at the waves and the sad realization he was past due at work, Romeo stood and walked back to town.

[OOC: Open if you're on the beach, I guess.]

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Romeo Montague

August 2012

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