QUINTON, april elizabeth

[APRIL ELIZABETH QUINTON]

april elizabeth quinton
twenty ,, houston ,, weekend warriors/drummer ,, bisexual ,, free ,, rue diamond
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"hey, my name is april fucking quinton. i go by several different nicknames, like ape and apple. i have quite a colorful vocabulary. anyway, i've been in this band for about a year now, after i became sober from coke. no, not that delicious substance coke-a-cola, i'm still on that shit, i'm talking about straight up cocaine. i still drink, and man, do i drink religiously. before i found weekend warriors, i was quite literally a street warrior. i lived on the streets, fresh out of high school without a home. in high school, i was pretty popular, but the hard thing was staying popular. i did everything i could. i did drugs, i partied, i was a mall rat, and a slut. i did everything to get attention. and then, my two year relationship with this guy elijah ended, and my world was torn in two. i mean, everyone saw it coming. he was straight edge, twenty one, in college, doing great in school, never partied, and he was being cheated on by a seventeen year old with a few boys and girls a night. yeah, i was a bisexual slut. anyway, my sister told me there was something wrong with me after i dropped out and got hooked on coke. she forced me to go to a clinic, where i found the other members.

to be honest, i like being slutty. it makes me feel loved, at least physically. the feeling of someones lips pressed to your body makes you feel like the best person in the world, even if you know they're going to do it to other people. i would describe myself as hyper, and then up a notch. i love dancing and going to parties, just screaming at the top of my lungs and having a good time. i guess that's why i fit so well as a drummer, it takes away a lot of energy. i am always joking around and pulling pranks. it's just me. i can be a total asshole and a hypocrite, so watch out. for a drop out, i'm pretty wise. i mean, i was only pretending to be dumb to stay with the in crowd, which really annoyed my parents.

speaking of parents, they're loaded with cash. they've been rich ever since my father started his guitar company, and i used to feed off of their wealth. starting my freshman year in high school, i would take about one hundred or so buck-a-roos every two weeks for illegal alcohol, drugs, and pills. my older sister wasn't a saint either; she did the same thing, but she was at least passing her classes and sucking up to mom and pop. that's mae quinton, for you. after i dropped out, my parents disowned me. i got hopelessly addicted to cocaine, and my sister took me to the local drug clinic. i met the best and worst people there, and we formed a band. that's what you call turning a headache into a keepsake.

"


^{hey, so i'm sarah. i've been roleplaying for like, seven years?! now. as well as this character, i also play no oneeee. you can reach me by pm or MSN! if you need me for anything. i found NO VACANCY TOUR by oh you know, the sexy admins(; and i'm pretty glad i did. here's an example of mah skillz. (:}

No, no, no, there were no eroding corpses chasing June. Not again, not this reoccurring nightmare featuring the undead. No, this time, she was in the middle of a battlefield, sunlight beating down on her face, her own pale skin drenched in blood, mud, and sweat as she crouched in the the tall grasses. Gunfire shot across the field, barely missing her. The female paused, growing unaware of if she could make it or not. Another gunfire came shooting straight at her, one bullet grazing her arm. She braced herself for the pain that was supposed to follow, but nothing happened. There was yelling after the gunfire, the language unknown by her race. Was it the Iraqi's, just holding down fort? Or was it someone completely different? Was she dealing with a new kind of terrorist?

June woke up, startled by her dream. There was gunfire in the background, coming from the television and the buses XBOX 360. She carefully slid her way out of the sleeping Fang's grip and made her way into the 'loft' area of the bus, slowly but surely, just so she didn't awaken her sleepy boyfriend. One of the roadies was at the television playing Call Of Duty Black Ops noisily. She quickly hushed him by telling him that her boyfriends sleep was more important than a virtual war, then tip-toed over to the shared bathroom. In the full-length mirror, she saw herself wearing Fang's classic Norma Jean shirt and a pair of his black gym shorts rolled up so that they rested mid-thigh. Her hair was thrown up in a lazy bun, something she did often on tour. Remains of black eyeliner that was taken off in a drunken mess smeared under her eyes, barely visible to anyone but herself. She sighed, shaking off the lingering hangover and nausea.

A few days ago, June was a single girl, just like the majority of her life. A few days ago, she was terrified to get too close to her own best friend in fear of either admitting her love or getting physically abused again. A few days ago, she had stayed up until five thirty in the morning just to make sure her own best friend and at the time soon to be boyfriend was alright. A few days ago, she dragged him back to the bus in a half drunken slur while smoking a blunt. She didn't know what she would do without him, even if she had sacrificed a few nights worth of sleep for him. She preferred going out of her way for him five nights a week to not having him at all.

June crawled back up into Fang's bunk slowly, positioning herself on top of him. She knew he had to wake up eventually, and that 'eventually' was going to come sooner than later, much much sooner. Her body bent down over him, her face just inches away from his. "Fang," she cooed, her voice gentle, soft, and low. "Wake up, sleepyhead, today's your off day. You get to spend it with meeeee." She rested her lips upon his, then pulled away. If he didn't wake up, he was having a terrible hangover. She scrunched up her nose, and then proceeded to fall out of the bunk. "Ouch!" she muttered, pulling herself up and rubbing her bottom. "I don't like it when I hurt myself."

June had a sudden craving for food - the rumblies were attacking the pit of her stomach yet again, and her stomach wasn't winning. Her hand stroked her belly, finally feeling the effects of the War On Hunger. She made great ballet skips and strides toward the kitchen area, the rest of the bus still barely phased by her fall. The twenty one year old bent down to get the bacon from the bottom of their fridge, oh their wonderful fridge. It became her haven in her time of need - her time of need for food, that is. It was her favorite article in the bus besides Fang and the television, and it quickly became something she worshiped. "Oh, gracious refrigerator. You give me delicious yum yums to eat, and you keep my bean and cheese tacos fresh and delightful. I love you so much." June giggled, realizing how silly it was for her to talk to an inanimate object like that. She pulled out a pan and watched as the bacon began to sizzle on the heated surface. She had enough to make twenty five pieces, probably just enough for herself and Fang, if she decided to share.

words - 763
notes - none
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