Post by nana on Jan 10, 2009 23:55:27 GMT -5
Nana smirked to herself, there it was again, that beautiful rush she got right before a protest. When she was going over her talking points so much her head swam, when she was nearly shaking with excitement, when she was carefully setting up the venue (as she was now)... those were the times she felt the most alive.
Pushing down her the jitters, Nana continued to prep for the event checking things like the megaphone working properly and her 'in' with the park cops. An advocate of hers had promised that his fellow officers would 'take a break' at noon, when her protest was (unofficially) going to start. So, by the time anything strange would be reported, Nana would be long-gone and far ahead of any noise violations or vandalism charges.
She surveyed the park, a few picnic-ers and joggers and people playing friseebie with their dogs--but there was also a group beginning to collect infront of where she had placed all of her materials. The forming crowd was most likely made up of her fans, perhaps a few passerby curious to her actions also. A pile of spray paint and almost endless stacks of papers (there was the large megaphone she had, too) would to that to someone.
She checked her watch; 12:00. Time to begin...
Nana picked up the first can of red spray paint and shook it as it clacked, then she took one of the papers from the stack; the megaphone held in her hand previously was slug about her chest by it's strap. She eyed the stencil before positioning it carefully on the grass, Nana pushed down on the nozzle of the can. She hoped the face was as recognizable as the date of death she was going to write beneath it.
It was easy and fluid, her swift movements of paint before she removed the stencil and revealed the face: Kurou. The first person Kira killed, the first unexpected heart attack of many. With a grimace at the thought of Kira, Nana continued, beginning the face of the second victim in red spray paint on the grass.
She had decided to finish the quick portraits of the victims before beginning the vocal part of her protest, but she was sure that the loud murmurs behind here were all about her painting. She was sure that with her silent actions, more people would flock curiously to the scene. More people would stare and wait for her to finish so they could see what her megaphone was really for...
Pushing down her the jitters, Nana continued to prep for the event checking things like the megaphone working properly and her 'in' with the park cops. An advocate of hers had promised that his fellow officers would 'take a break' at noon, when her protest was (unofficially) going to start. So, by the time anything strange would be reported, Nana would be long-gone and far ahead of any noise violations or vandalism charges.
She surveyed the park, a few picnic-ers and joggers and people playing friseebie with their dogs--but there was also a group beginning to collect infront of where she had placed all of her materials. The forming crowd was most likely made up of her fans, perhaps a few passerby curious to her actions also. A pile of spray paint and almost endless stacks of papers (there was the large megaphone she had, too) would to that to someone.
She checked her watch; 12:00. Time to begin...
Nana picked up the first can of red spray paint and shook it as it clacked, then she took one of the papers from the stack; the megaphone held in her hand previously was slug about her chest by it's strap. She eyed the stencil before positioning it carefully on the grass, Nana pushed down on the nozzle of the can. She hoped the face was as recognizable as the date of death she was going to write beneath it.
It was easy and fluid, her swift movements of paint before she removed the stencil and revealed the face: Kurou. The first person Kira killed, the first unexpected heart attack of many. With a grimace at the thought of Kira, Nana continued, beginning the face of the second victim in red spray paint on the grass.
She had decided to finish the quick portraits of the victims before beginning the vocal part of her protest, but she was sure that the loud murmurs behind here were all about her painting. She was sure that with her silent actions, more people would flock curiously to the scene. More people would stare and wait for her to finish so they could see what her megaphone was really for...