Bruises. [open]

[Isidore Van-Houseton]

Isidore walked down the concrete walkway of Rose Park, leaves crunching in his wake. A black book bag crossed from his right shoulder down to his left hip and a casual pair of jeans and navy sweater. His hand gently rubbed at the purple mark on his cheek that he had only gotten a few minutes prior. "Well, it appears I've gotten myself into another talk." Isidore quietly muttered to himself. The tall teen had been chatting with some girls, and it had been going well until one of their boyfriends overreacted to his present and punched him in the jaw. The girls had tried to protect him, but the most that had done was make the punch not nearly as forceful. Now, Isidore was stuck with a decent sized bruise on his cheek that probably looked pretty bad.

His blue eyes drifted towards the playground where a few children happily played some games. The teen stopped, watching the kids played for a few moments. Slowly, his hand left his damaged cheek and a small smile appeared on his face. Seeing kids playing always reminded him of the days before the bruises, slaps, and on rare occasions cuts all from other people. With that, the teen began to move down the walkway, watching the kids happily playing. Unfortunately, fate didn't smile upon Isidore on this day, because a few seconds later he tripped over his own two feet and immediately lost balance. Isidore fell to the ground, just catching himself with his hands, his bag collapsing beside him. Isidore groaned, "luck is not on my side."

[Katastrofea Park]

WORDS:	323
TAGGED:	Isidore Van-Houseton
NOTES:	c:

	Lace-up, knee-high boots of a pitch-black hue swinging underneath the bench she was sitting on, Kata let a sigh fall from her thin lips and leaned backwards. Cyan eyes blinked closed momentarily as the wood pressed against her back, a light breeze tousling her similarly-colored hair, which was pulled up in two high pigtails. She looked more like a senior in high school than a legal adult, but that was kind of the point here. At the moment she didn't want to be recognized as an idol, which meant blending in with the casual atmosphere.  She could hardly believe that it was winter. It felt more like spring, or fall, or anything other than the season of snow. Rose Park was bright and crisp as always. It was a source of muse for many of her nostalgic or upbeat songs, which was why she was here at the moment. She had artist's block, and though her agency wanted her to release a new single soon, the lyrics weren't flowing from her mind. She needed inspiration, Even surrounded by flowers and the laughter of children, though, it seemed she wouldn't be getting it today. Leaning back over the notebook on her lap, she bit the end of her pencil as a boy some years younger than her began walking past. Kata didn't notice him until he suddenly collapsed, hands firmly planting onto the sun-kissed sidewalk.  She couldn't help it; she laughed. Not even bothering to conceal her giggles, Kata leaned towards him and held out her slender hand in an attempt to help him up. "Oh man, are you okay?" she asked, still smiling, though her grin dimmed somewhat as she noticed the bruise on his face. He hadn't faceplanted (though that would have been funny, honestly), so how had he gotten hurt like that? Not that it was her business or anything. "That was glorious."
BY EDWARD OF GS

[Isidore Van-Houseton]

Fortune in this situation was only slight, and that fortune was that Isidore's glasses hadn't fallen onto the treacherous concrete of the sidewalk. There was a small scrape on his hands due to the sudden weight pushing them against the rough walkway. A few leaves had rustled during his fall, and most of them had become the victim to being crushed. The pain was only minor, making it easy to ignore. His bag had long fallen with a loud thud that could only have erupted from the rather large and heavy textbook stored inside. A chorus of laughter began to enter the air, making Isidore realize there was some unexpected company. Isidore's gaze followed the sound, soon finding himself face to face with a cyan haired girl. There was a pause as Isidore's eyes began to look at this cyan haired maiden. It didn't take long to notice the both her eyes and hair were very similar when it came to their colour.

However, the memory of what happened only a hour ago soon rang in, eliminating most thoughts of flirtation. Isidore was maybe a flirt, but the last thing he needed was a second bruise to be lectured about, in other words, hid parents would flip if he managed to get another dark purple mark on his face. Isidore knew that his parents cared a lot about him, but when one was on a pursuit for love, there were going to be bruises. In fact, they probably wouldn't believe that he made a decisions that would sate their worries by the slightest bit. When she spoke, it had taken Isidore a while longer to register what was being said. "Oh, I'm fine, thank-you," Isidore thanked. Rather than taking the hand offered, Isidore pushed himself up, getting back on his feet within a few seconds. Upon rising, his glasses slanted slightly to the right while his bag flopped back to his side. Isidore released a slightly inaudible sigh, reaching a hand up to push his glasses back into place. Next he brushed off the small amount of crumpled leaves that clung to his navy sweater.

Once Isidore saw his sweater was at the very least presentable, he spared a glace at the cyan haired girl. A grin was placed upon her lips, and any intelligent person could tell that she had enjoyed the "show". Even the girl's comment about what had happened proved that she enjoyed his little spill. "Perhaps from your point of view, Miss, but I can tell you from first-hand experience, it isn't too pleasant." Isidore responded, sighing as he found smudges on his glasses. His hands reached up, plucking the spectacles from his face to rub away the smears that had become apparent. Casually, Isidore plunged one hand into his right pocket, retrieving a small, black, felt cloth. Like many times throughout his years having glasses, Isidore places the felt cloth around each lens, one at a time, and did his best to clear the aggravating smudges from the glass surface. Once finished, he shoved the cloth back into his pocket and placed his glasses back onto his face.

At this point, Isidore decided it was best to introduce himself to the cyan haired maiden. "Anyways, I am Isidore Van-Houseton, and who may you be?"