Wonder. [Ft. Thalès]

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Le peintre fou
Le peintre fou
a tracé,
le Dim 28 Fév - 0:43
Cyantists. Those damned creatures in white blouses... They were all he couldn't stand, and the only thing in this world he was ready to erase with all his might. He knew he shouldn't have come here, not only was it dangerous, but it was also predictable, and he hated being predictable. His unpredictability was, after his gift for painting, the thing he liked most about himself, and possibly his most powerful weapon. That is why he hated himself for coming back here. He also hated himself for giving in so easily in his impulses.
He knew he shouldn't have come, and the Draft seemed to mean the same when it sent those objects that attacked him just a while ago. Turner had left two dismantled object behind him when he resumed his path. He was now injured, though, and he seemed angry when he looked at the wound on his shoulder, shallow but painful.
And suddenly, one of Them was standing right here. Right in his way. Glancing at him with a furious look, Turner quickly drew near him. Even he didn't know yet what he'd do when in front of him. But he was in such a dark mood he could have killed anyone without the slightest hesitation.
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Turner peint en #4a4da6.


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Le médecin
Le médecin
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le Sam 12 Mar - 22:38
He wondered…

Currently Thales was standing in a place which wasn't neither the City, nor any building or any location you could have qualified "secure".
But neither the Cyantists, nor himself was secure.

He was here, wondering...

Wasn't he the White lady ? Wan, cold, waiting for someone. Waiting for escaping or for healing. Waiting for some knowledge about where he was, or for what he had to do.

He knew that he couldn't do anything more…

A second man was also here. One-eyed, almost as singular as Thales was. But he was… Oh.. You know, he was a patient. Injuries ? Nothing strange, because you know, you are there in this place where the word "secure" does not exist.

" Can I… help you ? " he said, trying to be - wrongly  - sweet.

He carefully put his so white but so red hand on the unlucky shoulder. Yes you know he could help that. Probably nothing serious. Maybe this man was strong, because it could have been worse. Yes… Maybe…

" I am doctor… you know… you shouldn't keep this gash, especially… here... "

He was wondering about the way he could kill someone like that. The leg, you think.. ?
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Thalès est flippant en #939393 (anciennement #eeeeee).

Aucun sens.
Autres comptes : Eelis, Ambros Hummer, Al, Iris Listz et Trenca
Rôle : Vagabond
Situation : Se planque quelque part en Ville.
Particularités : La voix errailée, faible, la gorge serrée. Et une peau parfaitement blanche.
Messages : 160
Date d'inscription : 26/06/2014
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Le peintre fou
Le peintre fou
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le Sam 12 Mar - 22:52
"Help me ?"

Help him ? HELP HIM ? How dared he. Turner smiled. Not gently. Not sweetly. Not even sarcastically. It was a furious smile, the smile of a mad dog, baring his fangs, ready to bite. And to kill, maybe.
The painter shuddered when the other man's hand touched his shoulder.

"You are a doctor, are you ? I was right, then, you are one of those... Cyantists. »

This last word wasn't spoken but spit, almost hissed out of anger. It felt like a swear in Turner's mouth. Well, after all, it was a swear, for him. "Cyantist", this world was insulting in his voice.
Turner grasped the Cyantist's wrist and tightened his grip to the point it was probably painful. How dared he touch him ?
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Turner peint en #4a4da6.


Ce qui compte, c'est trouver.
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Le médecin
Le médecin
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le Sam 12 Mar - 23:33
Thales wasn't worrying at all.
Always have a pleasant smile - here is the first rule, isn't it ? First, he just had to gain the trust of this poor man. Just had… to…

Just let me touch it.
Just let me heal it.
Just let me help you.


" Yes... I am.. But it doesn't really… matter… "

He didn't move back. He didn't explain. His hand stayed in place. Or maybe was quite moving… Like a sweet stroke. Like if he was only calming a nervous horse. Sugar. Because, you know, you really have to be serene. You really need to help him. Cyance wasn't the topic.

" For if you meet... them… "

Truly, this man has to be careful.
One-eyed, if we subtract one…
It doesn't equal to eyed.
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Thalès est flippant en #939393 (anciennement #eeeeee).

Aucun sens.
Autres comptes : Eelis, Ambros Hummer, Al, Iris Listz et Trenca
Rôle : Vagabond
Situation : Se planque quelque part en Ville.
Particularités : La voix errailée, faible, la gorge serrée. Et une peau parfaitement blanche.
Messages : 160
Date d'inscription : 26/06/2014
Toasts : 63
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Le peintre fou
Le peintre fou
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le Dim 13 Mar - 0:26
Of course it mattered. Turner didn't know why exactly, but he felt like it mattered. For him, at least. He couldn't exactly tell why he hated Them so much. Do you need a reason to hate someone ? Probably not. He didn't.
With his valid eye, he coldly glanced right in the other man's eyes. He was dangerous. Turner could feel it deep inside. No, he was not dangerous. He was deadly. He was a poison, embodied in a human form.

"Don't touch me."

He put in his voice every inch of hate he could gather from his heart. He hated Them. He hated him. He didn't need a reason to hate ; he didn't need one to kill either. He took a knife out of his pocket. A tiny, pointy knife. He didn't need more to kill. If he had had to, he could have done it with his bare hands. But why only have skin when you can have blood ?
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Turner peint en #4a4da6.


Ce qui compte, c'est trouver.
Autres comptes : Striky/Ervin/Mark
Rôle : Explorateur
Situation : Aucune
Particularités : Oeil droit crevé, cheveux mi-longs ondulés, grande sacoche
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Le médecin
Le médecin
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le Mer 13 Avr - 23:44
Thales didn't intend to answer that frightening eye. Wasn't his patient going to kill him ? Oh, you know, and he knew also, death is sometimes the best way to heal someone.

He was wondering about a way he could have avoided that situation. He was looking at the knife, this cute and short knife, in the man's hand. Oh, well, what are you doing ? You only have to let me… And I'll

" You should put it … away… "

Very far away. Because you are only the patient. Without a doubt, the cyantist softly placed the tip of its right hand on the blade.

" It can be dangerous. " he informed, smiley.

Dangerous like that.
Like a situation where the two men doesn't have any reason to run away.
They were not two passers-by.
They were even not human at this moment.


The left hand was also holding a knife.
And Thales was sooooo smiley.
He wondered about the time since he didn't feel any danger...
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Thalès est flippant en #939393 (anciennement #eeeeee).

Aucun sens.
Autres comptes : Eelis, Ambros Hummer, Al, Iris Listz et Trenca
Rôle : Vagabond
Situation : Se planque quelque part en Ville.
Particularités : La voix errailée, faible, la gorge serrée. Et une peau parfaitement blanche.
Messages : 160
Date d'inscription : 26/06/2014
Toasts : 63
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Le peintre fou
Le peintre fou
a tracé,
le Dim 17 Avr - 1:57
"You should put it … away…"

Really ?

"It can be dangerous."

Oh, really ?
Was it his way of interacting with people ? Enunciating obvious things in a ominous way, in a pathetic attempt to scare him away ? Did he really think it would work ?
No. Now that Turner had caught the fish, he wasn't going to let it go so easily... Not so easily.
And since they were telling obvious things...

"It is meant to be dangerous. Oh, no, sorry, it is meant to kill you."

Turner could feel his anger growing inside of him, burning cold. Reason wasn't in control anymore. Destruction was. Yes, he wanted to destroy this man in front of him, tear him to pieces, drink his blood and break his soul.
And if the other had a knife too... There was no problem, was there ? It wasn't a sentence to death, but a loyal and honest fight between two men. But were they still men ?

Turner ignored the other's knife and threw himself toward his opponent with his own blade in hand. Was this man his opponent or his prey ? Soon, he would know...
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Turner peint en #4a4da6.


Ce qui compte, c'est trouver.
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Le médecin
Le médecin
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le Lun 18 Avr - 0:09
Cute.

Since they decided to break all the walls between them, they weren't - of course - men anymore. Just two creatures, even not monsters, playing with some pointy toys. This guy wanted to kill Thales for no reason - and Thales desired the same.
For no reason ?
Was it a reason to fight ?
Of course there was not.
Because you know, reason was lost.

He didn't manage to avoid the first hit - or maybe didn't expect to avoid any thing - and awkwardly achieved to stab this man is the thigh.
Some blood drops on the ground...
Thales quickly moved back and took a defensive posture, arms crossed in front of himself.
But he was also bleeding..

and it
was
you
know
very

« Cold.. »

and
very

red




He felt like he was

fainting

but he

was

also





smiling
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Thalès est flippant en #939393 (anciennement #eeeeee).

Aucun sens.
Autres comptes : Eelis, Ambros Hummer, Al, Iris Listz et Trenca
Rôle : Vagabond
Situation : Se planque quelque part en Ville.
Particularités : La voix errailée, faible, la gorge serrée. Et une peau parfaitement blanche.
Messages : 160
Date d'inscription : 26/06/2014
Toasts : 63
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Le peintre fou
Le peintre fou
a tracé,
le Lun 18 Avr - 0:39
Turner felt his knife enter the other's flesh. He then felt the coldness of metal tearing his own flesh. Instinct took over and made him step back quickly. He glanced at the Cyantist. Crossing arms in front of him, putting his weapon between them, as the last and only rampart, his shoulder bleeding... He looked so weak... But he was smiling. Standing still.
Turner laughed, much more calm, now. He felt almost serene, as if seeing the red of the blood refrained him from seeing red. His thigh was painful, but he didn't care. He could care later. Once this was over.
He slowly closed the distance between them. Out of curiosity, would his opponent attack or retreat ? Would he bite, or just fly away, the tail between the legs ?
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Turner peint en #4a4da6.


Ce qui compte, c'est trouver.
Autres comptes : Striky/Ervin/Mark
Rôle : Explorateur
Situation : Aucune
Particularités : Oeil droit crevé, cheveux mi-longs ondulés, grande sacoche
Messages : 58
Date d'inscription : 10/12/2015
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Le médecin
Le médecin
a tracé,
le Lun 9 Mai - 21:07
He hasn't got any reason to flee.
Like he hasn't got any to fight.
Like he hasn't got…

So - who care ? -, the easiest thing to do was… obviously..

Keep going. Who cares ?
Him ?
You don't know him.
Maybe one day…
You don't know him.
Thales was now wondering about a thing he could have forgotten.
Look at the man.

He looked at the man. Closier this one-eyed madman was, more inevitable was the outcome. Dead end, like that ? So lo-ve-ly, dude.
He didn't move at first. They weren't puppies playing with a ball - oh, they were more patient. Far more patient.

« Hey… »

Thales - who was much more Thales since some minutes, how dreadful ! - then started to count wordlessly. Using three fingers, until the determining zero..

Three seconds during which he said, also wordlessly…
Who cares ?
Good bye…
I'll forget but you won't forgive, will you ?


And finally he joined again this ballet of red and white.



Spoiler:

Pardon pour le retard et le manque d'action. Je me fais pardonner avec un Carlos:




(j'ai failli le balancer au milieu du RP mais je me suis dit que quand même..
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Thalès est flippant en #939393 (anciennement #eeeeee).

Aucun sens.
Autres comptes : Eelis, Ambros Hummer, Al, Iris Listz et Trenca
Rôle : Vagabond
Situation : Se planque quelque part en Ville.
Particularités : La voix errailée, faible, la gorge serrée. Et une peau parfaitement blanche.
Messages : 160
Date d'inscription : 26/06/2014
Toasts : 63
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