forum In Fair Verona // Modern Romeo and Juliet // Private RP - CLOSED
Started by @blue_topaz
tune

people_alt 44 followers

Deleted user

(I have it sitting in my room! It’s on my list so no spoilers!)

@blue_topaz

(aFSDHGJKLKHMXNGZFDHSGDJHTFYJGUKHLJH,GFMDJSHRETDJYFKUGLHKIJOKJ,HMGNFDBSEFHDJGFKJGLUHJK;.JHG THAT FREAKING BOOK OH MY GOD I LOVE IT SO MUCH)

Deleted user

(Everyone says it’s so good! I’m so excited to read it, but I’m in the middle of two other books rn!)

@blue_topaz

(gasps my heart, how could you do this?
but yeah, lol
I should probably start typing up a starter, XD
how do you want to start this off?)

@blue_topaz

(right, I keep forgetting that the children of mafia bosses still have to do school lmao
Around the beginning of the year, say, mid-September? Maybe a fight could break out between a large group of people?)

@blue_topaz

I'd always preferred heat over everything else.

The sensation of fire rippling through my insides, the burning trail running down my throat after a mouthful of both strong words and strong alcohol, the blazing power that a wildfire of rage could bring to my fingertips.

"Ragazza di fuoco," they called me at home. Girl of fire. They all told me that sparks flew when I became angry, candleflames swelled to become bonfires. And I liked the title, enjoyed the sound of it, rolling off of others' tongues. It was perhaps the thing that suited me the most about my lifestyle; the fire, the heat.

"You have eyes like burning coals," someone had once informed me—a praise or something else entirely, I would never know. But I took definite pleasure at the sensation of flames blazing across my bruised knuckles, hot blood rushing through my veins.

Coincidentally, one of the best ways to achieve this feeling was by getting into a fight. Fists flying, globs of blood spat out to the side, bodies left bruised and scraped by the end, adrenaline pumping through the fighter that clawed their way to the top—namely, me.
But I couldn't exactly explain this to my high school principal… Not that getting into trouble bothered me, only gave me a reason to be cautious, even now, on a sweltering September morning behind the bunker at my forsaken high school.

Punches were thrown, kicks were delivered, and mostly by me. At the end of the first few minutes, I'd left several burly football players sprawled out on the ground. An exhilarated laugh escaped my lips as a thrilled raced through me. Ducking under someone's fist—what were we all fighting about this time? I couldn't remember, nor did I care— I grinned like the Cheshire Cat and swung again.

Deleted user

Adrenaline pumping, spit flying, bloody noses and broken bones. This was officially the best school day ever. Record scratch, freeze frame. Let the camera pan in and focus on the Italian teenager getting wrecked to the ground. Is that me? Pan out a little. See the dashing model with a razor sharp jawline? That’s me.

I walked into school from the lot after parking my motorcycle. Morning sun giving me an angelic halo. This school is my school. Romeo Montague, starting quarterback for fall football, starting center for winter ice hockey, and of course, starting center for spring soccer. Try not to swoon, ladies. I get around, you can count on that.

Crack! I grinned as Tybalt Capulet came crashing to the ground after I decked him. He’s one of the most insufferable losers this prison has to offer. For some reason, he seems to think he can get away with ragging on my family. The shank in my pocket said otherwise, but when it came to Tybalt there wasn’t any real danger.

“Bro! Nice one!” I wiped the blood off my face with the back of my hand, high fiving my best friend and partner in crime, Mercutio. We grinned at each other one last time before diving back into the fray. Why? Cause it’s fun!

((I gave him a basic movie intro to really give you an idea of how awful he’s going to be lmao))

@blue_topaz

Another loud, freeing laugh escaped from my bloodied lips like an uncaged bird as I grabbed hold of another girl’s wrist and shoved her to the ground, successfully blocking her failure of a punch. The blue emblem on the back of her vest, now soiled with dirt and blood, only added to my glee—nothing was better than seeing a Montague get beaten to the ground.

And I was flying again, dark hair coming undone from its tight bun and tumbling down my shoulders. The sun danced on my skin just as I danced around each fighter, twisting arms, shoving bodies against walls, driving elbows and knees into stomachs and crotches. This was what it felt like to be alive—pure electricity shooting through my veins, my heart ready to burst, red static hovering in the air. Screw gunshots and bullet trajectories, screw mafia strategy and arson. This? This was perfect.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tybalt go down. Everyone had to defend their own honour, claw their own way to the top, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to fight his battles for him, but the one thing that was most definitely going to happen was the weak, pitiful Montague brat getting beaten into the dirt. Romeo. His name turned my stomach.

I didn’t hesitate a second, only darted forward, grabbed him by the back of his collar, and slammed him face-first into the brick wall only a foot away.