Post by Hikaru Hitachiin on Oct 7, 2011 4:31:35 GMT -5
OOC Name: Lizzieh
Character's Name: Hikaru Hitachiin
Character's Age: 16
Gender: Male
Role-play Sample:
The silence hissed in his ears as his vision was faintly distorted-his hands in his lap appeared unusually large and at the same time remote, as though viewed across an immense distance. He raised one hand and flexed its fingers and wondered, as he had sometimes before, how this thing, this machine for gripping, this fleshy spider on the end of his arm, came to be his, entirely at his command. Or did it have a life of its own? He bent his finger and straightened it. The mystery was in the instant before it moved, the dividing moment between not moving and moving, when his intention took effect. It was like a wave breaking. If he could only find himself at that crest, he thought, he might find the secret to himself, that part of him that was really, truly alive.
He brought his forefinger closer to his face and stared at it, urging it to move. It remained still because he was pretending, he was not entirely serious, and because willing it to move, or being about to move it, was not that same as actually moving it. And when he did crook it finally, the action seemed to start in the finger itself, not in some part of his mind. When did it know to move, when did he know to move it? There was no catching himself out. It was either-or. There was no stitching, no seam, and yet he knew that behind that smooth continuous fabric was the real self-was it his soul? -Which took the decision to cease pretending, and gave the final command.
These thoughts were as familiar to him, and as comforting, as the precise configuration of his knees, their matching but competing, symmetrical and reversible, look. A second thought always followed the first, one mystery bred another. Was everyone else really as alive as he was? For example, did his brother really matter to himself; was he as valuable to himself as Hikaru was? Was being Kaoru just as vivid an affair as being Hikaru? Did his brother also have a real self-concealed behind a breaking wave, and did he spend time thinking about it, with a finger held up to his face? Did everybody, including his father, mother, and friends?
If the answer was yes, then the world, the social world, was unbearable complicated, with two billion voices, and everyone's thoughts striving in equal importance and everyone's claim on life as intense, and everyone thinking they were unique, when no one really was. One could drown in irrelevance.
But if the answer was in fact no, then Hikaru was surrounded by machines, intelligent and pleasant enough on the outside, but lacking the bright and private inside feeling he had. This was a sinister and lonely, as well as unlikely, for, though it offended his sense of order, he knew it was overwhelmingly probable that everyone else had thoughts like his. He knew this, but only in a rather arid way; he didn't really feel it.
Hikaru was shocked out of his thoughts by a noise off in the distance, which he only assumed to be a bird. He had been drifting in and out of consciousness lately, and he was not sure why. Everything was always as it had been; nothing had changed lately. The academy was the same, the club was running smoothly, and his relationship with his brother seemed fine at the moment. Hikaru sighed, kicking his feet in the dirt and running his hand through his overly messy hair. He looked down at his watch, only to notice he had broken it sometime between his last class and coming down here to the rose maze. Funny thing, the watch had stopped on 12:12, even his expensive watch loved the idea of doubles. Laughing to himself and making a promise to get a new one, he put his broken time-piece into his pocket and walked back towards the main building in search of the proper time.
Secret Code: Daruma Doll Fell Over
Character's Name: Hikaru Hitachiin
Character's Age: 16
Gender: Male
Role-play Sample:
The silence hissed in his ears as his vision was faintly distorted-his hands in his lap appeared unusually large and at the same time remote, as though viewed across an immense distance. He raised one hand and flexed its fingers and wondered, as he had sometimes before, how this thing, this machine for gripping, this fleshy spider on the end of his arm, came to be his, entirely at his command. Or did it have a life of its own? He bent his finger and straightened it. The mystery was in the instant before it moved, the dividing moment between not moving and moving, when his intention took effect. It was like a wave breaking. If he could only find himself at that crest, he thought, he might find the secret to himself, that part of him that was really, truly alive.
He brought his forefinger closer to his face and stared at it, urging it to move. It remained still because he was pretending, he was not entirely serious, and because willing it to move, or being about to move it, was not that same as actually moving it. And when he did crook it finally, the action seemed to start in the finger itself, not in some part of his mind. When did it know to move, when did he know to move it? There was no catching himself out. It was either-or. There was no stitching, no seam, and yet he knew that behind that smooth continuous fabric was the real self-was it his soul? -Which took the decision to cease pretending, and gave the final command.
These thoughts were as familiar to him, and as comforting, as the precise configuration of his knees, their matching but competing, symmetrical and reversible, look. A second thought always followed the first, one mystery bred another. Was everyone else really as alive as he was? For example, did his brother really matter to himself; was he as valuable to himself as Hikaru was? Was being Kaoru just as vivid an affair as being Hikaru? Did his brother also have a real self-concealed behind a breaking wave, and did he spend time thinking about it, with a finger held up to his face? Did everybody, including his father, mother, and friends?
If the answer was yes, then the world, the social world, was unbearable complicated, with two billion voices, and everyone's thoughts striving in equal importance and everyone's claim on life as intense, and everyone thinking they were unique, when no one really was. One could drown in irrelevance.
But if the answer was in fact no, then Hikaru was surrounded by machines, intelligent and pleasant enough on the outside, but lacking the bright and private inside feeling he had. This was a sinister and lonely, as well as unlikely, for, though it offended his sense of order, he knew it was overwhelmingly probable that everyone else had thoughts like his. He knew this, but only in a rather arid way; he didn't really feel it.
Hikaru was shocked out of his thoughts by a noise off in the distance, which he only assumed to be a bird. He had been drifting in and out of consciousness lately, and he was not sure why. Everything was always as it had been; nothing had changed lately. The academy was the same, the club was running smoothly, and his relationship with his brother seemed fine at the moment. Hikaru sighed, kicking his feet in the dirt and running his hand through his overly messy hair. He looked down at his watch, only to notice he had broken it sometime between his last class and coming down here to the rose maze. Funny thing, the watch had stopped on 12:12, even his expensive watch loved the idea of doubles. Laughing to himself and making a promise to get a new one, he put his broken time-piece into his pocket and walked back towards the main building in search of the proper time.
Secret Code: Daruma Doll Fell Over
