Crayola RP - The first on the boards.

Ahem. Joiners.

COLOR:

APPEARANCE:

DID IT BREAK:

DOES IT STILL HAVE THE PAPER WRAPPING IT:

RELATIONSHIP STATUS:

Ahem. Roleplayers:

Twint - Royal Purple.

Kimberly - Mahogany

Elmer - Torch Red

Tld - Lime Green

Blixii - Screamin' green

Lunch - Black

Hazard (Illustrator) - Rose dust

COLOR: Royal purple

APPEARANCE:

tle="Royal Purple" />

DID IT BREAK:

Yep. It's chipped at the top.

DOES IT STILL HAVE THE PAPER WRAPPING IT:

Yep.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS:

None.

No, it's just me and Elmer's. xD I'll create the wolf one in a sec.

EDIT: And everyone else involved.

Joinage. B|

COLOR:  Torch Red. 8U That's right, Torch.

APPEARANCE:

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/8/82/Crayola_crayon_torch_red.jpg

DID IT BREAK: Yes, almost in half. It's holding itself together by sheer force of will. 

DOES IT STILL HAVE THE PAPER WRAPPING IT: Of course. Be a tad indecent if it didn't.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: None yet. Got a thing for greens though.

Rose Dust

Though his snappy pale red blazer may be worn from the times and veiled with dust from disuse, Rose Dust matches his namesake with fashionable taste. This wrapping may be frayed at the edges, put his tip is still sharp as his wit. At the moment, this playboy remains as amorously single as ever, with all the colorful ladies and lads his heart could handle just a box shake away~

[Someone should start LOL. -doubles over laughing-]

The party was thriving, even at the late hour. To be fair, the real fun had only started, with sunfall approaching, muting out the flamboyance of the varied attendees to a bearable point. With so much beauty packed into an enclosed box, the eyes could become strained. No, dim lamp lights and chandeliers better lit the individual flair of passerby. As a Color slipped by the fire, the flames might flicker accross his or her vibrant features, giving each soul a hauntingly appealing glamour, bringing out their colors in a more personal setting.

Rose Dust was young for his middle-aged semblance, maybe just over a couple decades out of the box, yet his wax still shone like any newly cast Crayon. As did his enthusiasm for life and its riches. To either side of him sat a lovely lass, a pair of deep marroons, elegant and suave as he, but lacking any true conversational character. No, he sought meaningful discourse this night. He reached for his glass of turpentine and washed it down the gullet in one go. One of the girls rose and walked away, and the other soon followed.

 "Well. That was...intriguing," he muttered. His eyes scanned the crowd for a new chat mark.

Torch Red, who had been peacefully enjoying a lovely nap to some Mozart, was rudely awakened by the thunderous noise coming from the 'get together' next door. With an agitated growl, he hoisted himself up off his recliner, grabbed his knobbly cane, and limped out onto his yard.

Poor Torch was the crayon version of a war veteran. He'd seen a few too many Kindergarten classes in his day, and had the scars to prove it. He'd suffered a near-fatal fracture a few years back, one that forever ended his military career. But, fortunately, not his life. Whether he was just too stubborn, or too lucky, to die, no one knew. Torch Red was still very much part of the world of the living, and he was determined to stay such. 

And no bunch of loud-mouthed youngsters were going to make it harder for him. 

"You god-darned whipperschnappers!" the old man shouted, whistling at every 's' sound. "I thought I told you, keep the darned racket down! You hear me?"

As if in response (in all probability, it was), the music grew a few decibals louder. Torch leaned on his cane and waved angrily at the window, hoping to catch the attention of whoever was responsible for this...abomination of sound. He was left sputtering in anger. 

"Well...buh....gah...Fine!" he growled, hobbling back to the comfort of his home. "Have it that way. Good fer nothing bunch of... Thinking they're all primary colours... I oughta..."

Royal Purple chipped herself again. She slammed against a table, leaving purple marks over the smooth white plastic. "Hey!" She heard a voice scream, but ignored it. Perhaps she could dodge responsibility.

She saw that the dust from herself fall onto the floor. She picked up the dust and hid it in a couch , hoping to destroy evidence. But alas, this must have been too obvious, for she heard footsteps behind her.