i'm not your knight in shining armor

[WREN SEBASTIAN ZEIGER]

I - C A N ' T - G R A N T - Y O U R - E V E R Y - W I S H
i'm not your knight in shining armor , so i'll just leave you with this kiss

i ' m not your boyfriend baby , i ' m not your cute little sex toy
I ' M - N O T - Y O U R - L I O N - O R - Y O U R - T I G E R

The world had fallen into the hands of mystery. Everything seemed to have a hidden conspiracy, or detail that confined itself ever so cleverly that no one could trace its mystic, but it was still there. Secrets lay within each whisper, dying with the person last kept with, in hopes that it could never be found again. So many words, promises, actions were hidden in the faded blackness. Why were these things hidden? Was everything so jaded that the sun could not reach the corners of the room anymore? Each person seemed too confined to the world of mystery, as if there was something glamorous about it. People found themselves digging into novels with passages full of hidden messages and encrypted text. But what was all this for? Was it some sort of fantasy of the mind? Maybe there was something so completely appealing to it like the sensual attitude portrayed by anyone with the mysterious, lurking qualities. More and more novels with strange characters are popping up in the romance section at the local book store. Everything had been coming some mixed up, twisted sense of magic and lustre. But it was at that point that Wren realized that the world had been like that for years, after all he was the one that had found himself drawn into the mysterious, Whispering Woods.

Lately Wren had been feeling some mystery in his life. Coming to the afterlife made everything see more eerie and mysterious. He had been the one that had been so interested in the theory of death that he ended up testing it till he found himself here. His visions of mystery were almost more inclined than any regular book. The people around him always seemed fascinated with his mysterious ways, how secretive his domestic life was and how his inner emotions weren’t expressed through many grievances or form of sorrow. But Wren was never too particular in making himself seem mysterious. Never had his life been laid out by him purposefully, he was too unpredictable for that sort of thing. There was just a calling for Wren, as if the world was revolving him into a fascination or mystery. The whispering woods seemed to be the particular calling that Wren was following that day. Maybe the trees had actually whispered out to Wren; each was cooing his name sweetly through the wind, waiting for him to venture among the branches and borrows. Some branches hung dead, and others stood strong. No tree stood the same as the last, but each tree was lost with foliage and a magical gleam that reflected from the streaming sun. If it was not for the high risen sun, the world in the woods would be completely lost, and maybe even more mystical and dangerously appealing, but at that moment, there was a light simplicity to the woods that still held up a mysterious barrier, while holding the simplest beauty that nature called for.

He hadn’t ventured off too deep in the woods, but enough for the sounds of Empress to be hidden. It was a Sunday so many of the farmers from out of town were coming in for church and the monthly banquet that occurred. Maybe Wren should have gone passed the church to look around at all the lively faces, maybe scare a few people with some floating food, but at that moment Wren felt too mellow to really want to do anything. It was his mood that made him feel scientific, where he was just interested in laying back and observing the world around him in a precious way. After finding a place that seemed a little more open in the woods, Wren paused, closing his eyes and tried to enhance all his other senses to feel the earth around him. He opened his eyes feeling completely in line with himself, as if the world had opened up and any dense mystery had dropped its curtain and presented an honest show to him. He smiled for the first time in a while, and dropped himself down on a log, resting his head against another tree. He knew that there were random ants and creepy-crawling bugs around but he didn’t care because at that moment be felt like he understood these little insects. Once again he allowed his eyes to close and focused his mind on nothing but the world around him, in all its magnificent glory. Everything was in complete serenity, that was, until he heard a quiet step in the woods. It could’ve been anything. An animal may have been lounging about in the woods, especially deer since they seemed to populate these areas so well, but it didn’t sound like anything natural, it sounded like a man or woman creeping about in the woods. He let his eyes stay closed as the rest of the world still seemed to move about, but this time his mind search for only that crackling sound of the underbrush that gave way to a human dimension.

---

TAGGED: open !
LYRICS: I'm Not Your Boyfriend , 3OH!3
COUNT: 837
TUNES: double vision , 3OH!3
NOTES: i just really want to post with everyone >>"

[MARY JUNE HOLMES]

It was a beautiful day. More than that, it was a lovely morning. Of all parts that the twenty-four hour period held, the early one was most likely the most pleasant, the most simple and the kindest of all. It didn’t hold any metaphysics in its gentle hands, any dark or hidden meanings; it didn’t make one delve into any complicated conundrums of the mind - at least not her. The darkest hours were more prone to the sensitive investigation of the recondite places of her mind and heart that she so little decided to intrude, with the characteristic disdain for idealistic wandering that is so common in the minds of children. Even though bodily one could hardly consider her a child, it was true that mentally she was as uncomplicated and impulsive as one, not yet having discovered the perks of having an active brain conducting her actions, instead of that sheer spontaneity that later in life one finds to be very similar to idiocy.

Anywho. Birds were happily cheeping all over the place, butterflies raised their delicate wings and “butterflied” around in that silly and slightly drunk motion that makes them so endearing. We are talking about that sort of morning, where the yellowish sunlight beams into your room at an absurd early hour, yet you aren’t mad about waking up. The sort that made you stretch and thank God that you’re alive… or not, in Mary’s case. That wonderful kind of morning when all you want to do is go out there and just breathe the air. Drag anyone you find on the way downstairs and force them to dance a nifty improvised hummed waltz with you. Inhale the smell of fresh pancakes. Have cereal, damnit!, all those legal things you want to do in that kind of morning.

Just a teeny problem. Mary was dead.

It wasn’t like she could go haunt the breakfast table - something told her it might frighten her family to death if she started eating pancakes, pouring honey and whatnot over them in front of the saintly eyes of her ancestors. Not that she would mind the company in the afterlife and all, but she wouldn’t want to spoil the natural flow of things. It occurred to her that her parents might not find it very amusing to know that their second eldest child, who was supposed to be ten feet cold under the grown, being eaten by bugs - and whatever insects ate corpses - was actually haunting the house, stuck to whatever she was stuck to until the end of times.

Therefore, instead of rushing into the kitchen and making her mother have a stroke, Mary decided to follow a much kinder approach - namely discreetly stealing some yogurt from the fridge when someone opened it and snagging a random spoon from the table before making herself scarce and just getting out, sadly remembering the hearty kisses she would have gotten from everyone if she were alive. She nonchalantly opened the yogurt - foul thing, with tons of color additives and god knew what else - and stuck the spoon into it, taking a spoonful into her mouth. She instantly made a face, throwing her tongue out with disgust and rolled her eyes. Were her parents determined to assassin the rest of their progeny?! Yuck. It seemed like it.

Spoonful after spoonful, random step after randomly directed step, Mary found herself delving closer and closer to the forest. It was an unwilling route, of course, since she was literally paying zero attention to where she was going apart from avoiding trees and other significant obstacles. Somehow, unconsciously, she might have been dragged here. It had become one of her favourite places shortly after she’d become a ghost, away from everything and everyone. She didn’t want to see those many familiar faces, busily going on with their lives while she was stuck in this limbo. It made her unhappy, and she wasn’t a masochist by nature. She didn’t sulk; she refused to sulk. Therefore, she sought refuge in the most secluded areas of the small town, in hope she would get by until she accepted and got used to her situation.

Crunch, crunch, crunch. Leaves and branches crushed under her feet, making that odd noise that would once have made her nervous, had she been wandering about the woods unattended. Now, it was merely a comforting and highly diverting sound, that brought a half smile to her face as she half stepped half danced around the place. The yogurt had long been disposed of, hated and dismissed as a necessary and unpleasant meal, and there was a glow on her cheeks that would have been healthily rosy weren’t it for the fact that she was dead. The usual smile was present on her lips, her wide eyes bright with cheeriness as she absently hummed a tune that had stuck on her mind.

Up a rock, down the rock. Going around a tree in a silly way, much like Mary did in that “The Sound of Music” movie. Overall just having simple fun in a simple way. Very June, very Mary. In small doses, the bubbly untainted energy came streaming out as she calmly glided about the place. She shutdown the world around her, conscious only in a very superficial degree of what surrounded her further than three feet away. The tree, the leaves, that lovely flower, the croaking frog, the laying boy…

Eesh.

Out of the comfortable trance she came back to reality. He looked ok, she supposed. A closer, suspicious look, result of her recent dealings with a certain ghost gave her the answer she needed - that the person lying there could also see her. She tilted her head to the side, the merry smile returning to her eyes as she breezily approached the boy - whom it never occurred to her might be asleep. Nope. Not at all. “Oh. Hello there.” she saluted conversationally, as if it were perfectly normal to go around interrupting strange people's sleep. “Lovely day. How are you doing?”

N O T E S & & Eeeer... *slaps forehead*
W O R D & C O U N T & & 1000 exactly O.O
T A G & & wren // brandynn

[WREN SEBASTIAN ZEIGER]

I - C A N ' T - G R A N T - Y O U R - E V E R Y - W I S H
i'm not your knight in shining armor , so i'll just leave you with this kiss

i ' m not your boyfriend baby , i ' m not your cute little sex toy
I ' M - N O T - Y O U R - L I O N - O R - Y O U R - T I G E R

There was nothing else in the world quite like this. Everything seemed so nostalgic and comforting like sitting down and watching Bambi with the family – except the part where the mom died. But just like when Bambi lost someone so endearing to him, the world would lose some sense of greatness at this time in the morning. Of course there was something so perfect about it, so relaxing and heart warming, but there was also the lingering sense that there was something else going on in the background of it all. Behind all that angelic light there was something that was dimming it all. Much of this related to the Whispering Woods. The shadow that they had cast in the earliest of the morning had an eerie creep of it all. The wind brushed carefully creating a whooshing sound in between the branches. The forest was actually whispering a tune, somewhat beautiful in its nature and somewhat horrifying. Somewhere in those woods there was a mystery waiting to be unfolded.

So much had happened in the forest that revolved around Wren’s life. Many times he would take girls for walks around the forest, especially at night to get them scared and he would carefully wrap his body around them. He was sweet by nature, but at the same time he was the devil, since so many girls had that similar experience in the woods with him. In the morning, Wren always liked to take runs to stay in shape, and he would find his way into the forest, exploring the different knots made in the trees. As a ghost he felt no need of staying in shape, or oddly sweating, so he only found his way in the forest as a lay attempt to be rid himself from the rest of the world and take a little... quiet... nap.

But Wren could not nap. There were so many noises carrying on about him. He was sure of the rabbits chasing after each other, pounding their feet, but he was so well aware of the human form approaching. He wanted his mind to go blank. Maybe it was an actual person and they would just disappear not even being able to tell that Wren was sitting there. That was what Wren particularly wanted at that point. The sweet scent of the clean air would return to him and he would be able to forget about any of the people wandering about in the woods, but no, he wouldn’t be able to get his way so easily.

He opened his eyes ever so slightly, making sure they were barely slits and that whoever was prancing about wouldn’t take note that he was looking at them. It was difficult to look for the person with such a small size of vision, and with his limp body working every which-way. Finally he was able to somewhat focus on a bright-eyed girl, who seemed to be beaming in the early day. From the way the sun reflected down on her, it was obvious that she was dead much like him, and get bubbly, unlike him. He shifted slightly, ignoring her greeting and then rubbed his eyes. Such a bother some people could be at times, and yet he wasn’t in the mood really bitch someone out, he was too tired for anything that required all that energy.

He looked up at the sky for a moment watching the sun beam through all the branches and seeing the slight beams. It was interesting how the light seemed to work, almost looking bent within the entire forest. After that simple moment to himself, Wren smiled looked back at the girl and wrapped both of his hands at his knees. He clenched at them tightly, creating a hearty look, but off setting it with a slight smile on his face. “Yes, it is quite the day, I suppose I am doing alright, though my sleep would never say the same...” He raised his eyebrow slightly as if to accuse this girl of stealing something from him, but then he quickly changed face, “But anyways, now who are you?”
Wren’s eyes gazed the girl up and down unsure of what he was doing with himself. He had a tendency to be night to everyone he met, at least for the shortest while, but his fuse only lasted so long. He sighed and ruffled his own hair before he spoke at the girl again, “Want to share my log or something?”

---

TAGGED: mary !
LYRICS: I'm Not Your Boyfriend , 3OH!3
COUNT: 751
TUNES: my cats running like mad... cats.
NOTES: such pretty words you use ^^

[MARY JUNE HOLMES]

It did brieftly cross her mind that she might be interrupting something private - but then again Mary was just plain invasive, with little to zero notion of what the concept of “personal space” was. She had never really felt the need to be alone, or to have her own things. She dreaded silence and solitude, and she would much rather share than have something all to herself. If one was unfortunate enough to admire something of hers outloud, odds were she’d just present it to them as a gift on the spur of the moment. Rarely would she regret such actions, and even more rarely would she actually remember them, her memory compartments being more than unusually small. Therefore, the idea that she might be barging into a private moment was dismissed as absurd. (The boy was alone in the woods, poor thing! He obviously needed company. D-uh.) She stared down at him from the slight elevation of soil and shifted slightly to her side so he wasn’t forced to cramp his neck while looking at her, leaning against a tree that was right next to her. It’s trunk had a small enough diameter that she could wrap an arm around it while bending over it, her fingers lightly tracing the rough wooden surface.

The smile on her face faded lightly at his words, her attentive eyes scanning his face more carefully. He did look very tired, for a ghost, but she couldn’t be quite sure he was bordering exhaustion. She narrowed her eyes for a second with apprehension, as the notion that she had indeed woken him from his sleep finally daunted her. “I’m Mary, though some people call me June. It’s my middle name, you see...?” she explained sheepishly, shrugging her shoulders. It tended to vary on her mood - when she was feeling as blissfully happy as she did that day, she was Mary. When she was in a horrid disposition, she was June. She circled the trunk and stole a quick look at him from the other side of the log, tilting her head to the side before returning to her previous position. “You…?”

She couldn’t help beaming with good-humoured interest at him, the corner of her lip curling up in a lopsided grin. The grin only grew - if that was even possible, given the amount of radiance it already held - at his next words. “Why, certainly.” she replied, giving a small chuckle. The happy look grew slightly fainter as she stared at him, grabbing his knees with a distinguishably weary look. Hell, he had dark circles under his eyes. “Only if I’m not disturbing, of course.” she replied, giving him a tentative smile while trying to discern if she wasn’t truly unwanted. She could live with unwanted, just not truly unwanted.

The boy seemed nice enough, though. Much nicer than a lot of people she’d met so far. As she waited for a response, she slowly started to descend the slight elevation where she’d been standing. However, instead of minding her feet, like any sensible girl would, Mary just managed to make a muddle out of things and trip. On what, she’d never know. And honestly, as she found herself being violently flung forth, that wasn’t in the list of her priorities.

Thump, Mary on the floor.

”Ouch.”

Thankfully, it had occurred to her in the middle of her fall to protect her face, else it might have hurt a lot more than it did. Her hands, that had basically been the most bruised and had most roughly met the soil, were starting to burn a little, she found, as she pulled herself slightly upwards and brushed the dirt from either gently with the side of her finger. “I’m…”, she pulled herself even more upwards, “… fine!” She said it more in an informative way than anything else, in a meek and slightly muffled voice, as she plopped herself onto a more dignified sitting position and examined her bruised knees that were, in fact, a jolly mess. But that was basically Mary for you - incapable of walking decently in the flattest of surfaces and plain catastrophic in anything that was even if slightly uneven. The smile had been very swiftly wiped from her cheery countenance, being replaced by a half frown.

N O T E S & & Will get better, promiseeeee! I'm just tired.
W O R D & C O U N T & & 720 made of something yucky!
T A G & & wren // brandynn

[WREN SEBASTIAN ZEIGER]

I - C A N ' T - G R A N T - Y O U R - E V E R Y - W I S H
i'm not your knight in shining armor , so i'll just leave you with this kiss

i ' m not your boyfriend baby , i ' m not your cute little sex toy
I ' M - N O T - Y O U R - L I O N - O R - Y O U R - T I G E R

So many times Wren had found himself alone, and isolated from the rest of the world. It was nothing of the sort that people didn’t like him; there was a fairly decent balance of people that liked him and people that hated him. There just was never a bother of being alone, when in fact it was quite peaceful and lead him to think of things that were intelligent or else random and out there. He enjoyed his personal time equal to his time he spent with other people. He did feel slightly off with people that were more out there and outgoing than he was, mostly because he was quiet except when he felt the need to talk. His words were usually something that surprised some people because he always was able to think quickly and come up with something that didn’t sound completely stupid. It was a talent of wits that he was able to come up with and it was rare that he could find someone with words to match his.

He felt odd at first sitting while this girl was standing. He usually liked looking down at other people, having an advantage of height. It was something that was imposing, as he had learned in media studies, but it was also something that was more personal to him. To have that advantage of height made him feel strength; this certain strength just made him feel more like himself. God forbid for these short few moments it was some girl he had just been introduced to that seemed taller than him just from his perspective of sitting down. He knew it was odd to have such emotions for such a thing, but he did. His dead spine curled slightly at the thought of it all and he quickly turned his head away for a moment looking into the trees of the beyond lands.

Wrens expression was different from the usual facade he would paste on, he was actually quite surprised. His jaw dropped slightly with her words, mostly because he was expecting a simple, plain answer, such as her first name. Most people seem to be so concealed trying to hide something from the rest of the world and contain a touch of mystery. Many middle names were the key to something like this because so many people thought of them as embarrassing, or else just something they wanted to keep personal. Wren had always been familiar with the idea of only knowing a person’s first name, and if he was in their class he would know their last name. He allowed himself to grow a smile on his face again. This Mary-June character was actually quite interesting to him, not someone he met on a typical day. “Very interesting miss Mary, or June... which would you prefer that I address you by?” His smile still seemed to be stuck on his face. There was something about the way that this girl spoke that made him quite content. So many times girls just spoke in the most annoying voices and he would need to stop himself from screaming. “My name is Wren, I’ve never been called anything but that, though.”

It was true that Wren felt slightly uncomfortable with someone else in the woods with him because there were so many memories of this place. Part of him was actually surprised that there still were people that came out here... or were even legally allowed to be out here since it was once a crime scene. He supposed that it had been years since everything had happened and the case had been long closed. He should’ve felt slightly more imposed by it all since he hadn’t had much of a sleep in a long time, but he was actually quite content with the fact that this girl was coming to join him, but this was probably only because she was refreshing. “I don’t mind in the least, find yourself a seat here.”

Finally he wouldn’t have her looking down at him.

His eyes watched her carefully as she found her place next to him and then suddenly falling. Wren’s eyes grew big in surprise. He watched her fall in an almost slow motion movement, but couldn’t find the energy to lift himself up to save her from the fall. Then there she was on the forest floor. Her response to the fall was somewhat amusing, but not in the least reassuring. Wren smiled slightly as she seemed to gather herself together. “Would you like some assistance onto the log?” He laughed a little seeing the sad expression on her face, and then following her gaze to the little scrapes on her knees. Finally, he lifted his lazy, dead, body from the log and kneeled down next to Mary, gently touching her knee, and then looking up at her. “Good thing those cuts can’t be infected in this world.” He joked, hoping to lighten her mood again. She had been such a jubilant girl a moment ago, he was sure that she must also be a resilient one.

---

TAGGED: mary !
LYRICS: I'm Not Your Boyfriend , 3OH!3
COUNT: 850
TUNES: to be scared by an owl, alesana
NOTES: don’t under estimate yourself, I enjoy your posts! Sorry for my lame responses though, ugh.