There are Gods to Throw Away. //Open//

[PROMETHEA IEVAN]

Silence. Silence and warmth.

Promethea huddled under her covers, enveloped in the shadows, a blanket thrown over the window to keep the sun out. She wasn't a vampire; Thea was a pure-bred teenager. Sun was the enemy. Get thee behind me, Satan.
She wasn't sleeping, of course. With sleep came dreams and with dreams came all the dreams of everyone else you were sharing a room with. Not a pleasant experience to know them on that personal of a level. For Promethea distanced herself as far from these normal (ha--that was a stretch) creatures as she was able to. Knowing their personal feelings about anything when they'd never even met--It really got tiring.

Speaking of tiring, Thea figured she should get out of bed before she actually fell asleep, a big no-no. She shifted, the hands tucked away beneath ebony pillows going to cover her pale face. Under her Godzilla breath a groan came, low but annoyed. She turned, and rolled off the mattress.
If she were a water balloon filled with seamen and jelly, she would have gone SPLAT! onomatopoeia all over the floor. Luckily, she was more or less solid, and produced a simple THUNK! as her body impacted.

Other than a freezing cold shower, this was the only way to get her out of bed. Laziness was a monster all itself, and she didn't feel like getting a bit nipply right in the morning, with the sun only hours in the sky.
Taking a deep breath, inhaling the sweet, dank scent of life beneath the covers, she rolled over on her back.
Weather her roommates noticed her or they were out of bed themselves, Promethea didn't bother to check.

Getting up, she heard an array of Snapping, Crackling, and Popping from her joints. Rice Crispies, motherfucka.
Throwing the covers on her bed, yawning, she shook out the early morning by pinwheeling her arms around, standing in her underwear, looking like she might take a bite outta you. Or maybe she was just yawning.

From the floor she picked up an overly large tee shirt and jeans two sizes too small--not intended, really--and smelled them. Clean. Maybe clean.
She shrugged and headed to the bathroom.
Looking in the mirror, Promethea was the definition of wan. Red eyes, pale skin, bed-head ebony, blond, and blue locks. She nodded, pursed her lips, and grabbed her toothbrush.

After the extremely boring task of getting ready in the morning (its much too boring to be described--really!), Promethea slipped out from the bathroom, smelling nice with her face and hair made, and a black bandanna tied Rambo-style over her hair.
She grabbed her skateboard from under her bed like Golem grabbing the One Ring, and slithered from the room, her stomach rumbling.
As she came to the hallways, not too busy with students, since it was the weekend, she set her board down and began riding with cool-as-a-bloody-cucumber skill. There was no one in her neighbor hood who couldn't board, it seemed--that's what happened when there was nothing else to do but board and drugs.

Promethea made her way down to the Dining Hall, avoiding eye-contact with anyone who happened to be in the halls with her. She was a ghost. She was alienated. And that's how she liked her toast, bitches.
Speaking of toast, she found her way to an empty table in the room and kicked up her board, catching it in her left hand, brushing her bangs away with her right. Impressive.

Sliding the board on the seat next to her, as if it were a friend (she was so lacking in that department she might start talking to the thing soon), she laid her head upon the table. The food smelled horrible; toxic. They were trying to poison her. No thank you, Thea doesn't want a dark bubbling mass of "food".
Other than the "nutrition factor", Promethea couldn't be happier with the accommodations here. Quiet. Not many people. Only enough to the point where she could block them out. In the words of Saint Martha, it was just perfect!

That was, of course, until someone else came to rain upon her parade.

Outfit

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[JORDAN BAILEY]

BECAME AS MAD AS RABBITS!
with bushels of bad habits

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A screech echoed in the room as Jordan hit the floor with a soft thud. Of course, it wasn't extremely loud due to the fact that she was about as light as a feather (though not really) and rather small and slender for her age. "Owowow," the girl moaned as details of her dream, the one her falling had ripped her from, slowly slinked away as she forgot it. Luckily for her, however, those roommates still in bed hadn't heard her (damn, they must be heavy sleepers). All the others had already left, surprisingly. It was still rather early in the morning. Well, kudos to them. The fallen angel would still be asleep if it weren't for her falling. Which honestly wasn't surprising. The junior was naturally clumsy, and tended to find herself in danger from something or the other on a normal basis. Plus, she usually fell out of bed at least once a week. But that wasn't the point. Or was it? Oh well, whatever.

Groaning, the small girl picked herself up off the ground, checking to make sure no scratches had appeared on her body during the night. (Hey, it happened, and it annerved her to no end.) Of course, the bruises that were now forming on her skin she couldn't help. Damn limited healing powers for, some odd reason, prevented her from healing the bruises that mottled her skin. And she had at least three every day. It was because of her clumsiness. Well, she was super clumsy. The fallen angel could trip over just air. It had happened before, too. Grabbing some clean clothes, the girl tip toed (or attempted to, seeing as how she tripped halfway) to the bathroom. Hey, she was nice to let her sleeping roommates sleep.

Jay took a quick shower before emerging, hair dry and straightened, pink and blonde extensions in her black hair. She had gone back to her natural black. At least for a bit. Then again, she had the extensions in, so. Yeah. Anyways, the girl was clad in a white shirt that clung to her small curves, bright streaks of pink, yellow, green, and blue crossing the shirt in a square pattern, the streaks similar to that of a paint streak. Legs were dressed in black skinny jeans with fashionable rips in various places. The girl danced over to where she kept her assortment of jewelry and accesories and picked out a sterling silver chain with a blurple (because blurple is a color, shut up.) bird, a chain with a heart at the end falling from its beak. Slender fingers picked out black swirl earrings which soon adorned her ear lobes. Then, finally, two bracelets were around her small wrists. One her left was a blue band with "Open Minded" written in pink. Around her right was a circle of black beads with a black heart. Humming, she grabbed her iPod, keys, and cell phone, placing them in a blue tote bag with a wale on it. (It also said "Make Waves not Waste" in yellow.) She also grabbed her sketchpad and assortment of pens, pencils, crayons, and markers and placed them inside. The girl never knew when inspiration for a drawing would strike, and she would hate to not be prepared for such a moment.

Finally ready, she slipped into her blue and black checkered Vans and hopped out the door, closing it softly behind her as her roommates continued to sleep, despite the loud clatter the girl had made. Whistling (or at least attempting to; she never was good at it), she skipped down the corridor, headed for the dining hall, tripping no less than twelve times on the way. Three of those times, she had completely fallen down before getting back up to heal any torn skin she had found. Hey, I already warned you that she was clumsy.

And then, at long last, she arrived at her destination, the dining hall. The source of many a bladder problem and illnesses. They most definitely didn't have the best food, but she was too lazy to try and find someone in the town that would actually part with their food to a Winterthorne freak. So this was the best she could get. Seeing as how she didn't have some totally awesome power that could make food, wait, scratch that; that could make good food appear. Avoiding the milk products (who knows; it could be spoiled but passed off as good), she grabbed a few of the best food products, mostly fruits and veggies. Meat this early was liable to be spoiled or some such thing. Especially as most of it was leftover from the day before. Or even the day before that.

The normally hyper girl looked around for any familiar faces. Finding none, she looked to see if there was anybody that seemed to need company. Jay was a friendly girl. Extremely friendly, and had no qualms with sitting with a stranger. Or talking with one. Or even hugging one. It was her personality, and it was a pretty crazy one that she had. Spotting an interesting looking head of hair (the person's head was down, so she had no way of telling if it was male or female, though she guessed that it was a girl. Then again, it was Winterthorne, you never knew what oddities you could find here.), the raven haired girl quickly made her way over to the person.

"HELLO!" the fallen angel chirped out brightly as she sat down across from the person. Of course, they still hadn't lifted their head up, but that was okay. As long as the gifted person wasn't dead, she was fine. They would, most likely, be able to hear her, so that was good. "I hope you're all right with me sitting here. You seemed lonely, so I decided to take it upon myself to make you...well, not lonely. I'm Jay. Who are you?" Yeah, she rambled. Just a bit. But she never got embarassed by it. Mostly because it was part of her personality. Get over it.

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WHO ALL IS INVITED?!?

[/font]
promethea (:

HOW MANY WORDS?!?
1,025 (doesn't include coding or extras. just the post itself)

WHAT IS SHE WEARING?!?
clickhurr<3 what her hair looks like is in pic<3

ANY ADDED NOTES?!?
eh, since you said in your away post that you hadn't any posts, i felt bad, so here. (: <3[/center]

[PROMETHEA IEVAN]

It was a wonder Promethea hadn't sensed the person creeping up on her. What with her excessive paranoia (just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not after you) and her ability (curse?) to channel the emotions of those nearest to her coming into play. Empathy was uncontrollable, like two teenagers naked in an empty broom closet.
Consider the fact, though, that the emotions transferred directly onto her. So she probably wouldn't have noticed either way.

She did, however, jump about a foot in the air at the sound (and close proximity) of the girl's voice.
"SON OF A FUCKING COCK SMOKING STREET WHORE!!" She bellowed, jumping up, boner-straight, and losing her balance immediately. She pinwheeled to the floor, slamming the back of her head against the cold floor, her backside following a close second, ass taking the special "Thanks-for-Participating" ribbon. Her legs were caught between the table and the bench, her skateboard leaning precariously over.

Hyperventilating, eyes wide open, staring up at the brightly lit ceiling, black dots arcing across her horizon, Promethea lay. Way to make a scene.
As if things could get anymore obviously comical and irritating, Promethea's skateboard pulled a Homer on her and slid off the bench, the wheels smacking her right in the face.
"What the fuck?" She growled, her head spinning, her lips in a scowl. She reached up to move the board from her face, sending it spinning, sliding away. Expedite that bitch.

Promethea placed her hands upon the floor, around the line of torso, and pulled herself up. Her face was burning. If only her vision wasn't as spotty as a fuckin' dalmatian and blurry like a lo-res pornography, she'd sprint out of her as quickly as she was able.
Her hand slapped the edge of the table, pulling herself back up to the bench. She leaned over and dragged the skateboard back to its original place with he heel of her Converse-clad foot. Barred her teeth and let a death glare sweep over the lowly crowd of early risers, urging them to turn away, stop laughing, go die in a hole. Grr. Rawr.

Finally, her gaze went to rest upon the girl before her. Her expression removed itself from the snarl and glare, and fell into a mask of indifference with a splash of complete dottiness.
Thea barely recognized the girl. Clumsy Junior. Fallen Angel. Probably fell right off the clouds and landed here. In Hell.
And apparently her name way Jay.
"So. . ." Promethea pinched the bride of her nose, squeezing her eyes tightly. "Jay or summat. Does making me "not lonely" include trying to give me a fucking stroke? Because that's either damn imaginative or you're trying to off me. Which, if that's the case, I salute you. Make it messy." She wasn't smiling; her low growl was whimsical, though. If that was possible.

{{OOC: Danke Shen. ;p}}

[/center]

[JORDAN BAILEY]

BECAME AS MAD AS RABBITS!
with bushels of bad habits

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Jordan had a rather...eccentric personality. She was loud, and always, always hyper. The girl was also friendly, too, and she knew many of the students at Winterthorne. Well, not know know them, but knew their names, year, age, and sometimes their race. Plus, she had many a close friend. Sure, there were those that didn't like her, but most people did. She also had those that she thought were her friend, but, in reality, they got annoyed and/or scared of her. And she didn't know it. The junior could be rather naive at times, it was true. Eccentric personalities could scare some people. Especially those not used to such a person.

Thin eyebrows shot up over her eyes as the girl jumped. Lips quirked into a slight smile at other teen's exclamation. It was random, that was for sure. She had to remember to keep it in mind; she might want to use it sometime. "It's nice to meet you too," she replied with a grin, setting her elbows on the table as she watched the female. Damn, that fall had to have hurt, the girl noted to herself as she followed the board falling, smacking the girl in the face. Jay winced as it did so. Yeah, that definitely had to have hurt. If it weren't for the fact it was simple pain, the fallen angel probably could've healed her, but pain wasn't something she worked in. Just cuts and, at most, broken things. It had to be physical. And not too tough for her to heal. Cuts, gashes, minor breaks, she could do. Bruises, pain, major breaks, not so much. But hey, limited healing was better than no healing. Her parents, full blooded angels, hadn't been able to heal, so it was a pretty good thing that she had any healing at all.

Eyes glanced over to the other people that occupied the dining room. Most of them were laughing, giggling. Others were attempting not to. And a few of them, outcasts, were just staring down at their food, picking at it. Jay wasn't laughing. Hell, she'd gotten herself into worse falls than that, and she was sure she'd get into more, so there wasn't a reason to laugh. Not to mention it'd be plain out rude, and rude wasn't something the girl was. Except towards people she didn't like, of which there were few. Just Asher. And Mort. Sometimes Dai. Other than that...there weren't many she could think of. She didn't have many enemies. She was nice, friendly. Not many hated her. (Though there were those like Ada and Xio that were kind of freaked out by her hyper personality, but she didn't know that. To her, they were friends. So they didn't really count.)

Humming softly to herself (when wasn't the musically obsessed girl not humming or doing something that had to do with music?), she waited for the other teen to get back up onto the bench and talk again. Just because she really didn't have anything else to say. Well, she did. She had plenty she could say. Like 'Are you all right?' and such things. But she just didn't say them. Mostly because the girl would answer 'Yeah, I'm fine.' (At least probably. She didn't actually know the girl, so it could be that she's just straight out say that she wasn't all right.. Who knew?) And Jay would know that it probably wasn't so. The clumsy girl knew that it had hurt, and it was doubtful that she'd be all right so soon after getting up. So she wouldn't ask such a dumb question when she already knew the answer. (Well, unless the girl was a) impervious to pain or b) able to heal pain or even c) all of the above. Then again, there might be another solution if she actually as all right. Who knows?)

Then, finally, the girl spoke. Jay blinked rapidly at the teen's reply. She wasn't really expecting that, honestly. Though, it did seem, by the tone of her voice, that she wasn't extremely mad, in any case. Which was a good thing. A very good thing. "Jay. Jordan Bailey is the real name. But Jordan is long, and a bit too boyish, so I go by Jay mostly. Some other nicknames have been made, but they're generally for those closer friends, so. Yeah." Again, she rambled. But again, she had no qualms about it. She wasn't embarassed in the least, because it was just how her personality was. "And damn, you've seen through my ploy." A grin lighted upon the fallen angels lips. Of course, she wasn't actually serious, but that didn't matter. Glancing around the room, she leaned forward towards the girl, her voice growing softer. "You see, it's been my plan for many a year. Find a lonely looking person, creep up on them...and BAM!" she shouted the word with a grin, "Instant stroke and they're goners." Jordan really didn't want to kill people by giving them a stroke. Hell, it was extremely unlikely the cute girl was even able to kill someone. Except maybe a turtle. --Shit, she needed to feed Franklin and Francine soon, now that she remembered. At least if she wanted them to survive the week. The angel was horrible at remembering things. Especially to feed her two pet turtles. One, Franklin, a gift from...well, we'll not say who. The teen had big problems with that person at the moment. And the problems were such a matter that she wouldn't forget them...or forgive the person who caused them. The other, Francine, was a gift from her brother, to override the gift from the other. Her brother. A person that had left Winterthorne, though he was but fifteen years old. The girl didn't know what happened to him.

Sitting back again so that it was a normal stance, the girl picked up an apple, eyes staring at the green fruit (because it was of the Granny Smith variety, her favorite) critically, looking for any bruises or holes that might mar the skin. Finding it to be okay, she took a small bite of it, chewing carefully, savoring the taste, including the slightly sour tinge to it. That was her favorite part of it. She loved sour things. Well, the good type of sour. Sour like the apple she held, and artificial sour things, such as sour candies. That was the kind of sour she enjoyed. Looking over at the black, white, and blue haired girl, Jay regarded her with slight amusement. "And might you have a name? I know it may be presumptuous to ask of it, but I thought I might anyways." Hey, back nearly a year ago, she had sat with someone at the lunch table, told them her name, and they got snappy because of it, thinking that she wanted his name, though she had easily backfired that on him. But still, she liked to know people's names. Especially those she hadn't met before.

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WHO ALL IS INVITED?!?

[/font]
promethea (:

HOW MANY WORDS?!?
1,192 (doesn't include coding or extras. just the post itself)

WHAT IS SHE WEARING?!?
clickhurr<3 what her hair looks like is in pic

ANY ADDED NOTES?!?
you're welcome :3 and sorry it took so long to reply D;[/center]

[PROMETHEA IEVAN]

Promethea raised an eyebrow to the girl. A question, not a salute. Promethea didn't believe she'd met anyone yet in her life who was by far more incredibly joyful and [bouncy[/i] and quite airy is this girl. Mentally, she shrugged. Physically, she turned around in her seat and blithely flipped off all. At least Jay didn't laugh. Funny, Promethea was expecting her to do so. The general public is more than predictable. An individual was the exception.

The girl blinked slowly. She focused on other things as Jay talked, trying not to get too close. Mentally, that would be. She didn't want to share the emotions the girl felt. Promethea didn't think hopping around on crack would be...suitable for her reputation. Scratch that. What reputation?
Rubbing her forehead where the board had betrayed her (was that a bruise forming?), she was silently thankful that the girl hadn't asked if she was all right. Obviously, no she was not. Woe be to the dumbass who asked such things.

She noticed subtle things as Jay talked. They had rather similar tastes in style, even if Promethea didn't look the part today. There was really no point in getting dressed up for breakfast. Or...whatever meal it was. Promethea hadn't a clue about the time.
Also, she noted the corner of a sketchbook poking out from beneath the edges of the tote bag. Crowded around it at the bottom were numerous mediums. Promethea didn't pry unless her curiosity was piqued by a person she found mildly interesting. And despite her jaded and sunken manner, she found many a person interesting.

So Jay was an artist, also. Promethea wondered if she drew city landscapes, buildings, robotic realism as Promethea did. Odds were she didn't.
Promethea hadn't heard much of what Jay had said. Zoning out--it was a trademark state of mind. She looked up from the tote bag and what it concealed to dare herself to watch Jay eat The Apple of Discord. She always imaged such an apple would be jade.
"Is your Ritalin in your bag with your art supplies, or did you forget it at home?" Ouch. Promethea knew it sounded rather nasty. She tried to reform her words. Kindness, a polite manner; something she by no means had experience with.

"You're an artist." Okay, better. Perhaps. She tried to turn the statement up at the end to make it sound like a question, but she thought it just made her sound a little stupid. Fuck it.
She looked away. People skills=Fail. She scratched the back of her head, fluffing her ebony pleated hair. She felt slightly nervous. Distanced. She blinked rapidly, and twitched to the side slightly. Shit. Bad idea. People usually walked away after that.
Then again, maybe being alone would be better than this.
Promethea took a deep breath and turned back to Jay. Her face had slackened into the teenage, jaded, God-The-World-Sucks mask. Easy enough to fake, since you saw it all the time at Winterthorne.



{{{I'm soooooo sorry it took so long to reply. T.T}}}[/size]

[JORDAN BAILEY]

BECAME AS MAD AS RABBITS!
with bushels of bad habits

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It was pretty well known, at least to those that knew Jordan, that she was pretty much the happy-go-lucky kind of person. She only expected the best out of people. She didn't pay attention to gossip (well, she did occasionally, but never about other people if she could help it), and didn't believe someone was downright cruel until she saw it herself. She expected the best in people, and, really, that was probably a good thing. People could be seriously judgemental sometimes. Though, also, it lead to her making stupid mistakes. Like she did with...well, we'll, again, not reveal any names. There was still a deep dislike of that person within her, and stating any names might push her over into a rage. Not that it would be exceptionally bad, anyways. Most people thought her face, reddened by rage, was cute. She didn't. But that wasn't the point. By not being judgemental, by not paying attention to what students gossipped about one another, she could be fooled into thinking the best of another person, when what everyone said about them was bad. That was how she could get screwed over.

Yes, even the happy, joyful, bubbly Jay could get pissed. It wasn't often, and it sure as hell wasn't scary, or even really noticed. She was the cute type. Bubbly, hyper. Anger didn't fit her, but when she was, it was kind of like a cute sort of anger. The kind you chuckled at, and then patted her head about. And she got more annoyed. It wasn't like it was her fault people didn't take her seriously when she was ticked. It was her parents fault; they're the ones whose genes she had inherited. But the point is, even the seemingly eternally happy people, such as Jay, who seemed the epitome of such a person, could get ticked. But right now, she was bubbly and happy. Herself. The world was how it was supposed to be. Well, with the exception that the school was being terrorized with killers. One of whom happened to be her friend. Funny how the world works, huh?

A small smile tugged on her lips as she watched the girl flip the rest of the student body that happened to be in cafeteria off. Okay, yeah, the gesture was rude, but it had a good reason; the other kids were laughing at the misfortune that befell the other girl. So, she hadn't a reason to dislike the girl in front of her for the simple reason that she had made such a gesture when the other students were rude in the first place. Perhaps if Jay wasn't as clumsy as she was (which was really really clumsy, if you forgot that fact) she might've laughed, or perhaps have at least a small smile on her lips, but she was super clumsy, so she knew better. The junior had been laughed at plenty of times herself, and she didn't enjoy it either. Though she didn't flick people off when they laughed. But hey, to each her own. She did feel a bit bad, though, when the other girl rubbed at her forehead. Damn, that probably hurt, and she had sympathy and understanding for the pain she probably felt.

Even as Jay talked, she couldn't help but notice the subtle (or not so subtle) similarities between the two. Sure, the other girl might not necessarily be wearing things similar to her, but there was just something about her that was similar to Jay. Not to mention their hair was quite similar. Big. Poofy. Dyed. With extensions. The traditional emo/scene sort of hair. Though the girl detested labels and didn't like them placed upon her or her friends, but that was the best way she could decribe it. Sure, the two different heads were different. The other girl had blonde, pretty much white, hair interrupted by black coon stripes. And some blue hair too. Might be extensions, but she couldn't be sure. There were some weird hairstyles out there. Not that she could say much with her pitch hair with varying colored streaks in it, depending on the day, and matching extensions. But all in all, they seemed kind of similar. But similar taste in style didn't necissarily mean they'd be friends. Though the bubbly girl kind of hoped that they could be. She loved having new friends. Besides, this girl seemed rather amusing, if nothing else.

Even as Jay spoke, she had a feeling the other girl wasn't completely paying attention. But, hey, it was alright with her. Well, as long as it was because of simple zoning out. She herself did it a lot, honestly. It wasn't intentional, but sometimes she just danced off (except she didn't actually dance. If she tried that, she'd fall) into her own little world on accident, and didn't pay attention to the people and things around her. Even if someone was talking her. It was just something about her. A downfall, if you will. So she couldn't blame the girl if that was what happened. If she was just ignoring Jordan, then, yeah, the junior would be a bit annoyed, but not actually mad. She barely cared how other people treated her. It was how they treated others that mattered to her. Yeah, an odd one she was.

Jordan blinked at the sudden statement. The bubbly girl finished chewing the bite of apple she had just taken (some people say things at just the wrong time, sometimes) before answering. I mean, seriously, who would sit there and talk while chewing? It was a nasty thing, and she was pretty sure the other girl didn't want to see bits of half-chewed apple in her mouth. And if she did...well, then good for her. That was just something the fallen angel didn't do, so tough luck. Finally having finished chewing the bite, she shook her head. Funny. She had hurried to finish that one bite, and the first thing she did was make a motion, and not use her mouth at all. How absolutely crazy. Then again, that was her. "Nah, I don't take Ritalin," she said conversationally, looking at one spot on the green skin critically. She rubbed at it with a frown, then looked back at the other teen, a smile back on her lips. "After I was about ten, I think the doctors were a bit too scared to get near me. Not to mention they thought I was odd even before. So you know, after they got super wary, they just pretty much did the normal stuff and then fleed. Sides, I hate medicine anyways." She scrunched her nose in distaste with a grin.

At the next uttering of the girl, she raised an eyebrow, looking down at her bag where her sketch book peeked out of the top from. "Yeah, just a bit. I'm not that great, but I'm pretty good," she shrugged. A bit of an understatement if you asked her friends. Most of them would say that she was an amazing artist, but she was super modest about her work. And she always saw room for improvement, honestly. Jay watched the other good interestedly. She seemed intriguing, if nothing else, she mused while taking another bite of the green apple. She was...different. She was...--wait, she still didn't know her name. Swallowing the soft bits of Granny Smith Apple, she tilted her head as she looked at the other teen again, watching as the girl twitched. That was odd. But okay. Jordan was used to odd things. Hell, she was pretty damn odd herself. "Do you have a name?" Jay inquired, lifting her eyebrows in question. She kind of liked having a name to put to the face.

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------------------------------------------------------------------------

WHO ALL IS INVITED?!?

[/font]
promethea (:

HOW MANY WORDS?!?
1,306 (doesn't include coding or extras. just the post itself)

WHAT IS SHE WEARING?!?
clickhurr<3 what her hair looks like is in pic

ANY ADDED NOTES?!?
haha, it's no problem. (:
also, won't be back till monday, so reply might take awhile if you reply when i'm gone.[/center]