#joseph 01

com @d4rkwater

A altura das ondas poderia assustar muitos dos campistas, mas não James que adorava se enfiar numa furada chamando de aventura. E, certamente, não assustaria um filho de Poseidon. E foi pensando nisso que, depois de procurar por dias, ele encontrou o melhor amigo, isolado como nunca havia visto antes. O sorriso largo por tê-lo encontrado murchou, dando espaço para um semblante confuso. Por que Joseph parecia tão distante e quieto nos últimos dias? Sabia que algo havia acontecido, mas ele não era a pessoa mais sensível para conversar a respeito. No entanto, como um bom amigo, deveria se fazer presente, e caminhou com cuidado até próximo ao mar. Ficou o mais perto que conseguia, sem ser carregado pelas ondas, e precisou falar um pouco mais alto para ser ouvido. — Seria meio irônico se um filho de Poseidon se afogasse, não acha? — Brincou, forçando um riso. — Eu não quero arriscar morrer, então se você puder, sai de perto da água e chega aqui para a gente conversar? Não se preocupe que o Otto não está aqui para ouvir. — Mencionou seu outro melhor amigo, o gato, que costumava estar sempre com ele, ouvir as histórias, e comentar com James depois.

An alleyway

@preholocene​

After the amount of drinks her ‘date’ had consumed on their evening together, it’d taken very, very little to convince him to ‘take the shortcut through the back’ to get back to where the pair had left his car. Even less to get him to boast about his abilities to ‘protect them both’ in case of any muggers lurking in the alley’s shadows. Sela had a specific vision in mind for her newest piece, and that meant that this poor excuse of a man needed to be in the mood to strike some very specific poses. This too, wasn’t proving to be a problem. 

“...You’re like a regular Hercules.”  A strychnine smile, and the man lifted both arms in a Herculean pose. Unfortunately, he dropped it with a laugh, almost as soon as he’d stricken it. Sela laughed, a flirtatious little sound, and a gloved hand stopped the man, silently turning his attentions to her. The pair stopped- the man’s shoe coming into contact with a stray bottle crate, the sound of the empty bottles rattling masking any other sounds of the alley. “Do that again,” Sela playfully demanded, one gloved hand beginning to slide the other glove off. 

The man grinned like a fratboy who thought his kegstand chug was impressive, and brought his arms up once more. At Sela’s encouragement, he held the pose longer this time, that stupid grin somehow growing even wider. For her part, Sela smiled approvingly and allowed her eyes to wonder- until her hand was finally freed from it’s prison. Now-bare fingers reached up to caress the man’s alabaster cheek, and for a moment, she felt the warmth of the alcohol induced flush across his cheeks. But only for a moment. 

The shift in his expression was almost instant, despite his slowed reaction time, as the skin beneath her fingers turned into a gray stone that quickly spread to cover his face and the rest of his body beneath his expensive suit. Within seconds, the man was gone- replaced by a terrified stone copy. 

WHAT IS THE POINT of exerting several years of blood, sweat, and tears into her and her father’s beloved creation only to discard of it and proceed to invent something new? Something functional? The very last thing that Tracy could have anticipated with the whirlwind of events she’d encountered recently (which, let’s face it, were already quite the common place for the mechanic up until now) was that her automaton creation would be shrunk down to the size of a literal doll for her to tug around like a child with reckless abandon. Even trying her hand at tinkering with it proved to be a fruitless effort. But to create a new robot was to deny both a significant piece of her life, and her father. While she was all for starting on the next big thing the concept of this was out of question. Down on her luck, yet determined to not give up on Milo being returned to his prior state, she decided to keep him close on her person by placing him into her jumpsuit pocket. In her eyes, it was a sturdy enough spot to make sure she didn’t lose him. 

She wanders through the streets of some place - god knows where, she’s still unused to any place that wasn’t the dark of the manor - mind clouded with the what - ifs - hows - and whys of the current predicament. A frown pressed firmly on her pale features as each step she took was with the weight of a imaginary ball and chain around her ankles, slowing her down. Her eyes are glued to the floor as she’s far too nervous to meet the indiscernible looks of complete strangers, nor does she wish to burden them by asking for guidance on what to do from here. Seems as if she was hunching a little too low as the shrunken automaton topples directly out of her pocket and down onto the ground. 

“Augh-! No, you can’t do that Milo!” The blonde’s voice spikes up in sudden alertness. Her speed is swift and reflexive as she immediately crouches down to pick him up. A pair of shoes other than her own come into her field of vision and she’s already mentally chiding herself for her sudden impulse to poor manners and awareness to those around her. If this were a match, she’d surely had been terrorshocked right now! “I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean to just stop like that,” Tracy cries, raising her head to authenticate the sincerity behind her words. Brows furrow over her eyes as she looks directly into cerulean scleras, confounded by her bundle of nerves before clarity strikes like lightning and she’s even more frazzled than the second prior.

“If you’re going to be leaving my shop, I suggest you put that item you have in your pocket back where it belongs.”

While facing away from the only individual in his store, Watanuki reached high to place some books back onto a shelf; seemingly busy with keeping his wares in order, not noticing his surroundings. But the shop keeper could sense every item that was held here; when it was traded with something else, he knew exactly why and where it was going.. if something was unbalanced, or being stolen from him, it didn’t matter where his eyes were looking.

Though now, as the man crept only inches from escape, Watanuki turned to face him; keeping his composure, aside from the slight annoyance that was hidden behind his words.

Crouched low, he was busying himself with petting a cat in front of him. It was such a sweet thing. Long white fur adorned it’s body, and it was rather well fed it seemed too---maybe a tad too much, but he could care less about that. It was perfect the way it was. Carefully, he reached forward to pick it up and cradle it in his arms. Thankfully, it was very receptive of the notion. What a gentle creature.

Staying crouched where he was, he was blocking the path on the sidewalk for others---not that he cared. However this meant that if someone were not paying attention, as they were, they would bump into him.

Which is exactly what happened.

Rocking a bit on his feet from the motion, he kept himself from falling over. Frowning, he righted himself before standing up, cat in his arms. Turning to the human, he made sure to make eye contact with them.

He’d been staring at the young man for a good twenty minutes at the least by now, eyes never leaving him. It was clearly rude to do such a thing like stare, but he quite frankly did not care. The man had a vague sense of familiarity around him, and he couldn’t quite place what from. It was bugging him. Who the hell was this guy, and why was it irritating him so much that he seemed so familiar.

Actually, he was pretty sure this irritation was familiar too.

He thought about using Heaven’s Door for a moment before deciding that no, it wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t in any immediate danger, so he may as well learn about the familiar man the more inconvenient way. Walking over, he realized he was...much shorter than him as well, almost having to crane his neck upward to even look at him.

Was this even worth it?

“Normally, I wouldn’t bother trying to deal with learning anything about strangers...”