mechalovaniac-blog

[mechalovaniac-blog]

♤ pυzzle ɴo. 001

Just before the stairs on the veranda descend to the garden below sits a solitary man, stool propped up in front of him and three cards placed atop. "Time to raise the stakes. I'm getting a little tired of a simple party," he says, voice dripping with confidence.

"I'll tell you what-- let's pool in five dollars each. Solve my puzzle and you take the pot, but get it wrong and I go home ten dollars richer. What do you say?"

Should you choose to accept the challenge, the young man will present you with the following riddle:

On your travels, you come to an old man on the side of the road holding three cards from a standard deck face down. Trying to make conversation, you ask him what the three cards are. He tells you four statements:

To the left of the queen are one or two jacks.

To the right of the jack are one or two jacks.

To the right of the club are one or two diamonds.

To the left of the diamond are one or two diamonds.

What are the three cards?

[mechalovaniac-blog]

To: Utsutsu From: Clive Dove

I see.

It's his immediate response, the very first thing that's come to his mind to say, so his fingers waste no time in typing it up. Clive realizes that the two singular words don't leave much space to reply to, that I see actually comes off cold, and that's something he's completely fine with. If their recipient really is despondent as they're coming off as, then they should be fine with him ending this conversation.

Almost a shame, too, seeing as he feels as if he can resonate with this person. However, if there's a mutual understanding in the makes, then Clive understands the difficulty in talking to certain people. He doesn't want anything from them, anyway, and he doesn't believe he can get anything out of them right now. 

To: Utsutsu From: Clive Dove

The world isn't a friendly place, and complete trust is no longer an easy find. I suppose I should wish you luck if you embark on the search. You'll need it.

How odd, it seems that massage has been arrived, a thought escaped her mind about how simple her last massage was, a simple question of leaving her be, instead…it seems that it open up a whole new conversation ,  without a single thought finger began tapping words, unsure wither she planned it or not..Anything that could fill up the other’s questions and leave her be.

To: Clive Dove From: Utsutsu

…I..I believe that i not,  Being gloomy is very nature habit for me to do, it is one of my personality traits after all, i attend to hide my trust for other away from  other and myself, Earning types of trust is very hard…And i’m not gifted with it, to say the least..my answer would be no.

After all….It’s what a normal person would do, at the very least…me.

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Oh. 

Oh, he knows what these are. He's seen the kids in school do it, he's seen the other students in his seminars do this right before a final-- and without fail, a picture or two always finds itself online, hashtagged "#GimmeAnF."

Selfies. The final frontier of Clive's photojournalism career. 

He just doesn't understand the concept behind it: if you want a nice picture to commemorate the night with, why don't you just have someone else take it? Someone else is bound to take a better picture than one taken by your own hand. It's useless energy wasted.

But he did tell himself to at least try to enjoy the night. It's with that resolve that his arm is outstretched with the camera in hand, grip only the slightest unstable because he's never done this before and he's not that fast of a learner. For a moment, he glances up at the young lady, eyes critical and brows furrowed. Give him another second, at least, then he'll concede with a sigh.

When the flash goes off, he's quick to step away. His fingers swipe over the buttons until the recent picture is found, and-- almost proudly, almost-- he holds the screen up to his partner.

"Huh," he lets out. "This didn't turn out half as bad as I was expecting it to. My mother will be excited to see this, thank you."

♤ flash tempo.

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♤ loose gears.

"Bloody fantastic," are the sole words that hiss out of his mouth the fifth time his engine refuses to start. It's not that Clive doesn't know how to gauge the issue and fix whatever it is that's making his car fail, but it's cold outside and if it rains like the forecasts say it will, he doesn't want to be the one caught outside. That's what cellphones and mechanics on speed-dial are for.

But let him mope around for a while longer. He's loaded, sure, his mother's more than willing to pay for his schooling expenses and more, but that doesn't mean he wants to bother her. Constance is a nice lady. She deserves at least one day free from fretting over him.

And just as hints of rain start sprinkling on his windshield, Clive leans back with a groan. Mondays are the worst for a reason, and he's sure he's found ten of them. He'll call the mechanic when he's not so angry at the world, face twisted in a way that screams general unfriendliness. 

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♤ flash tempo.

She would be proud, is his first thought. 

After having noticed the inward regression in the man's younger days, his adoptive mother Constance showed instant concern. For a while, Clive is sure, she blamed herself and the way she'd revealed his adoption. Perhaps she thought the boy had blamed her for the troubles in his life, or perhaps she thought he would love her any less.

Despite his constant reassuring, it almost felt that Constance never fully forgave herself for sins never committed. As far as Clive knows, the jolly woman was the only mother he's ever known. He's sure seeing him out and about in the world would bring a smile back to her wrinkled eyes.

So in does he step into the ballroom, camera strap gripped tightly in both hands. The rush of the noise and the clacks of the heels on the floor brings him back to London, to home sweet home, and the reason he's dragged himself out of his room tonight. He's even taken one of the emerald roses provided at the doors-- by no means is Clive a grand dancer, but he thinks he's willing to help a left foot or two.

"Excuse me," he starts, formal and polite, all teeth and smiles. No mask here.

"Would you mind if I took a picture of you? A piece to commemorate the night with."

[mechalovaniac-blog]

by HARU

[mechalovaniac-blog]

/ iiit's only taken me a hella long time but i finally put up clive's au page! check it out ehehe...... 

on that note, if anyone would like to plan a pre-existing relationship or a thread, feel free to hit me up! i just started spring break, so i should have a free week on my hands.

[mechalovaniac-blog]

Send me a (´∇ﾉ｀*)ノ .`-;- if you'd like to make a pre-established relationship with my character!

[mechalovaniac-blog]

He never expected everyone to be absolutely gung-ho when he made the move, but to encounter someone this negative this quickly? Either he must be extremely lucky, or the stars are playing a joke on him. 

After the first barrage of messages, Clive considers stopping the conversation right then and there, but his partner his partner continues on without his prompting. 

To: Utsutsu From: Clive Dove

Perhaps your gloominess stems from your withdrawal. I hope you're not expecting professional advice from me.

To: Clive dove From: Utsutsu

[…It’s dangerously risky.] [Sent] 

[…I trust no one…I fear from trust. ] [Sent]

[…Because i’m afraid to hurt the people that i love.] [massage deleted]

Hands were trembling when the last massage was sent, there were too much personal information of her statue, therefore deleting it would be the best solution for her to offer, Instead of making the her text blank,  a small add to the text was added, and once again, her words weren’t related to the subject at all, but it was all what she could do.

 […I’m gloomy. ] [Sent]

[mechalovaniac-blog]

To: Bilbo From: Clive Dove

Is that what I come off as? I was thinking this more a questionnaire than a favor.

TO: Clive FROM: Bilbo

Acting civil? Yes, because that is common courtesy.

And while I would do my best to save another I do not think asking strangers to take care of you is entirely wise.

[mechalovaniac-blog]

To: ??? From: Clive Dove

Somehow... I don't think that's an answer.

[❤] What is this supposed to mean…

…

…

…Nowi begins to tap back.

To: ???  From: ☆ Nowi! ☆

[photo attached]

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To: Bilbo From: Clive Dove

An expected reaction. So you wouldn’t think me to act civil if we ever met on the street?

    … This was certainly both unexpected and, in most respects, ridiculous.

TO: Clive Dove? FROM: Bilbo

This is impossible to answer seeing as how I do not know you.

[mechalovaniac-blog]

To: — From: Clive Dove

Would you trust me with your life?

But a few moments later, your phone should ring back to life with another message.

That’s a little forward of me to ask, isn’t it?

[mechalovaniac-blog]

On the other hand, to an affluent young man like Clive, this is just another public transit ride on the way to class. But he’ll admit, the line between Paralia and Kairos is one of the most impressive he’s seen— possibly one of his favorites.

Despite his week since his moving into Kairos, he’s still quite the tourist, clicking away at his camera with reckless abandon. Clive doesn’t notice the woman standing before him until she speaks up. "Oh! Of course, just give me a moment," he finally greets, shifting his bags and belongings aside to make room for her. "It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?" Though he’s looking through some pictures instead of out the window as he asks this.

[ Train || frw open

Seven dollars for a train ticket was relatively cheap by normal standards, but on a college students budget, it might as well been a first class plane ticket. Heaving a heavy sigh, Fang handed over the money, grabbing the ticket in return and shoving it into her pocket. Her home town of Paralia was a bore, and that was putting it lightly. 

Hoping Kairos would have a bit more excitement, she boarded the train as it entered the station, her emerald eyes immediately looking for an open seat. The train was more packed than expected, and the only seats were beside faces she didn't recognize. With yet another sigh, she approached one of the strangers giving a grin as she spoke out. "Hey, mind if I sit here?" 

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i’m calling the cops

[mechalovaniac-blog]

"Actually, it's--" A lost cause.

"I used to dapple in a few cello lessons when I was younger. I'm warning you, I'm not band material..."

Ha ha! Ahh, Dive Clove… Don’t worry! Ibuki once played with a guy who had feet for hands. Besides! It’s not how skilled you are at the instrument, it’s how cool you look playing it!

So far it’s just Ibuki and you! So there are lots of instruments for the taking. Which one do you like?

[mechalovaniac-blog]

"A band? The most I can offer you are a few managerial skills. I've two left hands when it comes to instruments, you see." 

"Clive Dove, at your service... Miss Ibuki."

New ‘round these parts, eh? Cool!

Ibuki could use someone like you for her ultra-superior band, y’know…