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FALLING ROSES.

kosaju·.

“I know! They’re weird, aren’t they? I just see them around like this. I hope it wasn’t painful.” She gave the cat’s radio head a thoughtful look-over. Despite her small insensitivities, she didn’t want to see animals hurt. A scratch or two would make her curiosity over the radio pass.

Referring to the spikes, she added, “I wondered what that was. Is there a trigger button somewhere? They have to catch the attention of a few potential fans! Although, I can’t tell if you’re a band member or a model…” He had the face for a model, at least. She couldn’t imagine he was less than those two! If he wasn’t, it was possible she could get him to consider GANG☆STAR…

Karen’s fingers traveled back to the radio’s knobs, drawing the frequency over to his request. She succeeded, but holding the cat in one arm worked against her as expected. The cat hopped down lightly onto its feet.

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“Um… is that the right station?” she asked nervously, only half-ready to gear herself up for another chase.

                   Model ??  It’s a common question he’d get back then, coming around.     Band member but the cattle think I do some modelin’ too. Crazy world outta there buuut I wouldn’t mind doin’ some work like that. I mean it promotes my band, right ??     Well, his logic isn’t all too flawed there, but the work was insane. Writing songs and going on tour was already more than enough of an insane schedule. Exhausted every night after another LIVE– as much as he loved the attention, even his beautiful face needed to rest.

                    Crow chooses to ignore the questions and the weird looks he gained from everyone regarding his spikes. He likes to believe he was normal.     Tell ya what, since I have nothin’ else to do… I might consider doin’ it for the time being.     Although his wardrobe was the biggest mess, his style was admittingly not as terrible as his sense of “having clean room” and his oh so flustering name for his fans– cattle.

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                   For now the familiar music of rival bangs echoes in his ears, hearing the radio cat play his own music just a few minutes afterwards.     Yeah…  ”   Hearing the familiar chorus part he wrote… good times. His bandmates must be having fun on the other side of wherever they are. He hums along, sings along. His voice was as powerful as ever, this was his real talent after all.     I kinda miss playin’ with Red Tomahawk. Her melodies were the strongest and strumming her felt like a war cry. Me and my bandmates were crimson soldiers in the on-going apocalypse