In All the Wrong Places
Ahahahahah. Hello everyone. This is a small 'lil intro to something I just wrote up. I'll probably be continuing it more when I have time (a.k.a. during the moments of boredness)--which basically guarantees that I will continue this. So enjoy. I'm not sure myself where this story's going, either. I plan for this to be... uniquely-comedic. Yeah. So here we are:
It’s not every day you meet a girl like Justine. Oh, definitely not. Actually, it’d have to be a pretty damn-right strange day when you meet her. Strange, odd, unusual—whatever dictionary word you wanna use that’s a synonym for “weird”, that word’ll apply for the day you meet Justine.
She looks like any ordinary Night Elf girl at the first glance—well, she is an adventurer, so her quiver of arrows and bow are the first things that stand out. Her facial markings are a deep-purple color, which makes it look like she’s wearing a veil over her eyes—except, her eyes are glowing bright silver. She wears a cape that trails behind her wherever she’s headed. And she runs. She runs like a crazed idiot—no, that’s an exaggeration, sorry.
The way she runs can be described like this: you can instantly tell she doesn’t take anything seriously. She runs with arms extended straight out from her sides, and pretends as though she were flying through the sky. Like a damn bird. And she makes the most obnoxious mortar/engine-type sound while she’s doing it. It makes you wanna shut her mouth up, right when she does it. But you get used to it, I guess. Maybe what I said wasn’t an exaggeration earlier?
It’s not that she’s an idiot. She’s just different. It’s not that she’s mentally handicapped either, or hit-in-the-head-by-a-rock-when-she-was-a-young-child. It’s just… like I said. She was different. She has white hair that reaches to her shoulders—I make fun of her and call her an old lady like that. Natural white hair isn’t… natural, right? Well, maybe it is for Night Elves. But really, she’s quite the opposite. She’s young and active.
She’s a lot more innocent and silly, rather than stupid and annoying. It’s just—she’s very child-like. She doesn’t seem to want to grow up. She’s happy—and sometimes upset—with the smallest things in life, not so much the large. She doesn’t have a business face—and when she tries to do just that, she just ends up bursting in laughter.
But that’s okay.
I guess I’m a lot stranger, though, y’know. I really shouldn’t be talking. I am her best friend—and she’s mine too, after all. So I got used to it. Her personality’s really great—puts a splosh of bright colors into my much darker world. Justine takes a high interest in me. She’s constantly calling me “cute”—even though I’m, clearly, of green-skinned complexion and of Orcish, male build. How in the world could we ever have met and befriended? I can barely imagine it. But it did happen.
All I am is just an Edgar Wulfshire, “searching for love in all the wrong places”, as Justine puts it. Funny, isn’t it? I don’t really consider me being in the wrong place, or anything. I just consider myself insanely and impossibly against the odds. I mean, come on: how sad of an Orc can I be to be best friends with a Night Elf—specifically speaking, Justine? And on top of that, I have real, unbreakable doubts that there’s another Orc out there who’s nice, funny—and, apparently, well… gay.
But Justine believes in me. So this is it: an unlikely friend Justine and me, Edgar—on a journey to find me true love.
I never knew what one hell-of-a-journey this was gonna be.