Just a Diary

~✏-- "...My name is Oliver. Appreciate your interest."

[音楽] — Perhaps a proper introduction is appropriate in this situation; Miku can practically taste his irritation against the stale, midnight air. She knows all too well that even if his words say he forgives her—whoever she is—that his mind is probably screaming the opposite.

~✏-- "Quite fine-- where is my place to get mad?"

[音楽] — “Ah—ah!” she squealed, cheeks reddening from the embarrassment of being caught. No longer was the calm aura of one a.m. air filled with the creamy melodies from the boys mouth; now all she could hear were passing cars and the subtle ticking of walk-lights. "I’m sorry!" she exclaimed, overwhelmed with remorse. Ah, good going, Miku. 

~✏-- "Mm..?"

         Oliver, in a feature of contrast, hadn’t exactly the best hearing. While he could sharpen it on the flow of his own speaking, stringing out into the smallest song, it didn’t work for much else. If things were to break suddenly, he would catch it. Be it glass on marble, or even his voice itself. But never would he pick up the smallest commotion behind him, creaks in metal and shuffling against shingles.

[音楽] — She heeded extra caution with her stride; disturbing the young boy’s (or girl’s?) song being the last thing she wanted. They way their creamy voice hit every note perfectly, Miku couldn’t help but hum along, her eyes glancing up to the crystal, clear, midnight sky. What a beautiful mixture.

~✏--  "Watashi wa, hitori ga kiii--"

new folder>captain-of-dink

And he could have sworn he knew this face. Silver hair, mismatched eyes... Piko? Maybe? As far as he was concerned, he would not have met this guy again. But it looks like that may have been wrong..

Cream turned her head towards Oliver as he spoke, “Is that so?” She placed her hand into the water and began tracing patterns that would quickly fade away. A light sloshing sound was heard from it. “…You’re right…” She looked up at Oliver with a soft gaze on her face.

He slowly made his way over to her, cutting through the water below the surface. It made a very light sound and was cool to move through, easily sending him forward. Then he paused, watching her hand. Seemed she had never really been around these parts, so how could she have so surely come through the forest, following a path blurred out by trees?

Cream silently watched Oliver move closer, listening to the sounds of the stream. She looked at him as he gazed at her hand. Her hand was slowly pulled out of the water. The nice forest had caught her eyes, following the sounds of the stream led her to the secluded area.

"Ehh?" He stopped talking immediately, slipping his single eye upwards. So she completely missed what he had said— the meaning of it, anyway. His little screw up. "Ah-! Um, yes, I apologize anyway- but uh.."

What was he apologizing for?? “I-It’s ok?” Cream blinked a couple times, listening the the boy’s words once again. 

    With a smile showing up again, he shook his head. "Don't worry about it." So she was truly unaware of the problems with his statement. The world did need a few more people like that, people who didn't pick out every little issue and make the largest deals out of them, huh?

RP with voiceofthefuture

[音楽] — A voice. Miku had ears like no other—she could pick out any tune no matter how loud the chatter around her was, hit perfectly on key at any given moment. And when she hear someone singing—she was determined to find the source. That wasn’t something that Miku would ever let slip away. And maybe, Miku had had such trouble finding the melodic voice because she was looking in the wrong spot. Closing her eyes and letting her ears twitch along with the tune, she realized it was coming from—above? Ah, above. She laughed to herself, glancing up towards the night sky, sparkling stars brimming the surface and twirling around the moonlight—and, in the corner of her eye, a person, perched on the edge of a roof. How long had they been up there? How had they gotten up there?

       Oliver, in a feature of contrast, hadn't exactly the best hearing. While he could sharpen it on the flow of his own speaking, stringing out into the smallest song, it didn't work for much else. If things were to break suddenly, he would catch it. Be it glass on marble, or even his voice itself. But never would he pick up the smallest commotion behind him, creaks in metal and shuffling against shingles.