withoutverona: (all stubbly and grrrr)
Romeo's nineteenth birthday started with a package from his father containing a collection of Lord Byron's works, a dagger that was about twice as elaborate as anything Romeo had any business carrying, and a letter that suggested -- in a polite, backhanded, and elaborate way -- that Romeo was missed and should make it his business to visit Verona sooner rather than later.

There was also a large box of chocolates. They were good. Romeo ate the caramels as his breakfast. He should have been reading about the equilibrium point in supply and demand, but that kept turning into perusal of the poetry. Really, the poetry struck him as more relevant.

[OOC: For the girlfriend, or for birthday emails/calls/texts/homing pigeons.]
withoutverona: (writing)
Romeo was done putting together his bag for his trip to Verona, and now he was sitting on his bed, frowning at the rest of his room a bit.

He was seeing it clearly, now; the room was all but brimming with sixteen months worth of books and papers and clothes and the odd bit of rubbish that had never quite made it into a bin. When Teyla lived there, he'd been neater about his things, but now that she didn't he only had to be tidy enough that Dojima wouldn't flee screaming when she visited.

And, soon enough, it would all need to be boxed up and discarded, sent home to Verona, or shipped off to Tokyo.

He thought about doing some of the organizing tonight, but, ultimately, settled in with his journal. There were things on his mind.

[OOC: Open door -- I just felt like posting him]
withoutverona: (reading)
Romeo had promised to run the Superbowl betting pool for KKG.

Romeo had no real idea how a betting pool worked, other than that he normally lost money to them. So he was online, clicking through sites on bookmaking and trying to decide how it should be arranged. Super Bowl Squares seemed nice and easy, and with less math involved than any other option.

He wasn't thinking about the mess with Dojima -- was rather pointedly not thinking about it -- but he did have an anime playing on his TV in hopes he'd improve his Japanese through immersion. He glanced up at it when the fights got more interesting.

[OOC; Open door, open post.]
withoutverona: (oh happy dagger)
A duel, then. )

[OOC: NFI, for broadcast, OOC = love. Preplayed with [livejournal.com profile] raspberryturk, [livejournal.com profile] the_merriest and [livejournal.com profile] dojima_hime, who get all the pie. Violence warning.]
withoutverona: (battles over)
Note duly passed and ghost presumably defeated, Romeo quickly left hunting class and waited in the hall for Yurika.

He was still confused -- confused, with anger flashing under the surface like lava. But he'd talked to other people so much it felt like it was time to give Yurika herself a turn.

And so, he waited, and hoped she wouldn't hurry past.
withoutverona: (all stubbly and grrrr)
Romeo lay on his bunk, staring at the ceiling as he contemplated what had happened the day before.

It was sudden, and probably Yurika and Rikku were right that it was a bad idea. But he could not deny he had meant what he had asked, even as some tiny part of him was grateful to be turned down. He just hoped it would not come at the cost of Yurika's life, or what freedom she had.

He was not, however, grateful the whole mess had made radio, and hoped Yurika had forgotten to listen.

[OOC: For one then two, please. And is this icon not crazy hot, even if he is too old in it?]
withoutverona: (laughing)
Romeo fidgeted slightly with his jacket as he waited at the causeway. It was a cool day, but he hoped the sunny weather would hold as they headed to the mainland and to Fécamp for shopping.

[OOC: For a few, everything after the first thread NFB due to distance. And yes, I am OCDing this for, like, three characters. I may be insane.]
withoutverona: (most sensitive boy)
Romeo probably should have been sleeping in. After all, he didn't have to go to detention this week (and the king-quest-newt thing was still weird, no matter how he thought about it).

But for no particular reason he was up early, reflecting on his week as he flipped through a certain notebook. He'd spent some quality time with Yurika, helped dress Rikku twice (in a not-dirty way), gotten killed at paintball, discussed ladies and tigers in ethics class, and encountered (and mocked, and danced with) girls-who-were-boys.

He was glad, too, that things seemed to be going better for certain friends.

Most of the vocabulary in the notebook, like that in the book he'd found at the library, struck Romeo as useful but boring, but he smiled when he found one phrase and read it aloud slowly. "Kimite hontoni kirei dane."

Starting with compliments never hurt.

[OOC: Mostly linkdrop but door closed, post open.]
withoutverona: (weetiny eyes closed)
Romeo was very pleased with himself as he dressed in his jammies and climbed into bed. After arguing over the pillow with Yurika, the weekend had been AWESOME. Saturday, he had played good guys and bad guys with Sky, Brooke and Ino, gotten cereal from Peter Petrelli, gone to a slumber party before sneaking out and having pizza with a superhero, and talked about evil food with Mel.

And then Sunday he had met Mr. Tennant in town (and the play he was putting on sounded COOL) and played Legos and heard a dirty joke in Host club. Then Master Skywalker helped him FLY.

He had to ask Father to become a Jedi.

Also to buy him another gun to give Reno for good. Reno was the BEST.

[OOC: Just a linkdrop.]
withoutverona: (blue boy)
Romeo had washed his face all but raw, but there remained a blue coating over the pink flesh. Finally giving up, he tossed his washcloth to moulder in the pile of laundry and took a seat on his bed, absently sipping from a mug of coffee (no tea, thanks, possibly ever) as he thought over his wonderful-horrible last week.

Linkdrop sez what? )

[OOC: Door cracked and knockable, and of course open to Teyla.]
withoutverona: (X marks the spot)
Romeo spent the hours around lunch fighting with the washing machines. Rather proud of himself for only turning half the whites gray -- and for having the patience to keep from tugging the sodden clothes out of the dryer too early -- he carried the laundry bag of clean clothes up to his room, dumped it at the foot of his bed, and called it good before turning on his laptop.

And then he wrote an email home (that, not so coincidentally, looked much like a linkdrop) )

The door was open.

[OOC: Oooooopen.]
withoutverona: (shh they're sleeping)
Romeo Montague was having the oddest dream. Andrew tried to sell him a potion to take away strange bloating and moodiness. "'Twill taste like peanut-butter brownies!," he promised, while a girl astride a dragon nodded her agreement. Romeo took a brownie and wandered off, to be met by a statue of Apollo, who handed him a chisel and begged him to make the unkindest cut of all. Gobsmacked by this even in a dream, Romeo stood there ... and the floor melted into a Slip-n-Slide covered in chocolate. Rikku waved goodbye, a little sadly, as he sped toward a distant wall.

And as he slid, Friar Laurence grabbed at him, hauling him off his path. "So this is how you mourn?" he asked, with eyes clear and angry. "This is how you mourn."

He woke up gasping for breath.

[OOC: Closed unless Teyla wants to comment.]

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Romeo Montague

August 2012

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