City, Farm, wherever you are, I'm there. (Closed to Juneberry)

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Ursarion, Jan 28, 2013.

  1. {Oh God, sorry about the cheesy title..}

    Sierra was woken up by bright light steaming into her room.
    "What the hell?" She muttered, peeking through one eye.
    Her maid, Kylee, stood in front of her.
    "I'm sorry, miss. But your mother has ordered me to get you up, and to get your things packed."
    Sierra sat up in bed, still groggy. Her head was pounding.
    What had she had to drink last night?
    "Packed for what...?" She asked, her throat was dry and sore, making her voice come out in a whisper.
    "She's sending you off, Miss."
    Sierra jumped up, and ran down the stairs, stumbling a bit.
    "What the fuck mom? Why am I being sent off?" She called out angrily.
    Her mom was at the kitchen table, looking amused.
    "Sierra, watch your language. You're going to live with a friend of your fathers, on a farm. I think it might do you some good."
    She had her arms crossed.
    "But why?"
    "You're out of control. Do you even remember what happened last night?"
    "Um.. I went out to a party with Brit and Tristan.."
    Sierra closed her eyes to think.
    "And I had a few drinks, mom.. And... I came home?" She said hopefully.
    Her mom shook her head.
    "No. You had more than a few drinks. And according to Brit, you snorted some shit too. You went to a back room with some guy and fooled around, then drank some more. You came home, supported by Tristan, and puked all over my cashmere sweater. I put you in bed."
    Sierra looked at the floor.
    "It was just a bit of fun."
    "No, Sierra. You're too late. You're leaving in an hour, so get ready."

    Sierra ran back upstairs angrily, and packed her bags.
    She couldn't argue with her mom when she was like this.
     
  2. Conan groaned as a foal kicked him from getting too close from behind. "Calm down, Hansel! I'm just trying to brush your tail!" A spit to the left as he rubbed his side, shaking the pain off the best he could. As he got the foal to calm down, having taken care of most of the animals already, he began brushing the horsehair with a simple brush before hearing a call from outside the stable.

    "Conan!" His father called. The boy finished his work and was quick to exit, brushing his blond hair out of his face with a lightly battered hand. "We're going to be having a guest starting soon, a young lass near your age."

    "When did this happen?" Conan's word had a poison in them, a surprised glaze falling on his blue eyes. "No one mentioned that to me!"

    "Sorry, Conan...Sophie's been excited about the idea, and we just finished arrangements recently...I tried to tell you yesterday, but you were busy all day with the cows."

    "Of course I was busy with the cows. You were too. Bess just gave birth, remember? It's always busier with a calf."

    "I'm sorry, Conan...Please don't be too angry."

    "Yeah, yeah, whatever." The boy sighed. He'd given up on his family giving him notice a good chunk of the time, but this was a bit over the top even for them. "I'm gonna go wash up and make some breakfast. Any of the crops ready to harvest?"

    "We have some turnips," The man answered.

    "Good. I'll make some turnip stew for the guest when they get here."

    "I can take care of the guest dinner, Conan..."

    "Dad, you don't trust my stew? You and Sophie always whine I don't make it enough."

    "We love your stew," His father mused.

    "Then I'm sure the new girl will too. After all...It's someone you know, right? No one you know has yet to hate my stew." He shook his head, heading to the farm house. ​But most of them don't seem to like me much...Not that I care anyway.
     
  3. In one hour, Sierra was on the plane.
    All her luggage was packed, and she was on her way to the middle of nowhere.
    Her head was still pounding, but she couldn't just not get on the plane.

    Her mother would hire people to find her.
    She sighed, and fell asleep for the rest of the plane ride.

    When they stopped, a stewardess woke her up, and she got off the plane.
    It was cold here, or at least, colder than California.
    Sierra shivered and walked into the airport, where her luggage was already waiting.

    She'd packed five suitcases, two backpacks, and two mini suitcases.
    They were a matching set from Channel.
    She waited immpatiently for the family that was hosting her.

    She flipped her blonde hair back over her shoulder, it was layered, and had white highlights.
    Her nails were fake, covered in Zebra print.
    Skinny jeans with a pink glitter covered halter left little to the imagination.
    Her thong straps were sticking out over her pants.

    She wore platform shoes along with her outfit, and black cat eyeliner, pink eyeshadow, and light lipgloss.
    Her face was covered in foundation and powder.
    Sierra's eyelashes had so much mascara on them, they were stiff as a board.

    Her skin was fake tan from a tanning booth, but it wasn't too dark, it was just sunny.
    She was 100% fake.

    Sierra sat on one of her suitcases to wait, as she tapped away on her iphone.

    Omg. so cold & stupid hr alrdy.. I wnna come home!!
    She sent a text to her best friend, Tristan.

     
  4. The Demetriou trio family left the farm in a hurry, making their way into town an hour or so away to make it to the airport. All of them were simple, Conan being possibly the simplest, despite the most interesting. Their father stood at the edge of the pick up truck, holding his daughter's hand. his daughter wore a pink dress with a white apron dotted all over with strawberries, along with strawberry stains. Her hair, a dirty blonde, was held in pigtails with pink ribbons. She was cute as a button, but her brother merely retorted to her grin, "Stop smiling like an idiot."

    It had been decided that Conan would go in alone to find the strange girl from the city. He walked briskly through the airport, oddly familiar with it despite never having been there. His light blonde hair covered the tops of his cold, blue-grey eyes. He was dressed merely in a white t-shirt, whose only extra was a red stripe going around his abs, and a pair of worn out blue jeans, ripped from hard labor rather than from factory design. As he walked, he could hear the pitter-patter of his simple sneakers, likely an off-brand of nikes or some other simpler, easy to find brand of footwear. He stopped at the gate he was told to, looking around, only seeing one person who screamed 'city' to him. With a grunt, he walked to her, already disgusted by how fake she appeared.

    "Sierra, right? Let's go. Pa and Sophie are waiting at the pick-up." He refused to look at her directly, his head turned to the side while his eyes laid on her slightly. He had his arms crossed over his chest as he took a few bags that seemed stackable, and did just that, putting them together as if playing tetris with them so he could take all of them at once. "I'll take these- this should be most of them. God I hope this all fits in the guest room of the house...Seriously, you pack like you're expecting a nuclear explosion. Dress like it too. Seriously, you need all that crap on your face? It's gotta be bad for your health." Yes, there it was. Conan's renowned sharp tongue, which would bite at anyone and anything. He meant well by his words, but it was the only way he could think to express them. Saying something sly like 'you're ruining nature' wasn't really something he'd do, but he really thought the make-up was too much. "I can understand a little on the lips to protect them from the sun, but you've got so much stuff on you I can't tell what's skin and what's product."
     
  5. A good looking boy walked up to Sierra.
    He called his father pa? She laughed a bit and stood up.
    He took most of the suitcases, and she grabbed the rest, even though she didn't want to.

    This boy insulted her makeup. What the hell?
    "Uh, actually, all my makeup is make naturally. I packed so much because I need all my clothes, and makeup, and bathroom supplies.
    I don't know if you guys have cheap shit here or not. And my outfit is perfectly fine. And who the fuck are you to insult me?"
    She asked, glaring at his back as they walked.

    She already hated it here.
    "You don't need to see my real skin, so it doesn't matter anyway."
    She mumbled.
    She thought she looked great.
     
  6. He tried hard not to laugh. "So what, you trying to hide something?" He looked at her with a mix of concern and coldness as he began walking. "I'm not trying to insult, just being honest. You look like you were manufactured, not like a person. I know Pa said you're a guest and all...But just to remind you, you're gonna be on a farm. It's not a five star hotel with a lot of space, so you won't have as much space as you're thinking. So unless you plan on living out of your bags, you may have over-packed." He took the bags carefully as he moved. When they were outside, he looked up at the sun slightly, smiling. "Also, you won't need to fake getting a tan here. Won't be able to either, but you won't need to. We've been having a heat spell. Just hang out in the fields or something and you'll get plenty tan." He showed her his wrist, which was tanned well and mildly. "This is all from just day to day stuff." As he walked, he was careful to maneuver around a crack in the ground, but looked at her while doing so. "Watch your step. Pot hole over here."

    When they made it to the pick up truck, he began loading the bags into the back carefully. He took the ones she had as well, and while he worked, his father came up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't you think you're taking on too much of a load? You just got injured a couple hours ago, and you haven't gone to the clinic yet."

    "It's nothing," Conan retorted quickly. "Just get her in the car. I'm almost done here." He finished loading the bags while working hard to hide a need to topple over by leaning on the side of the hatch. His side was starting to hurt badly from the early morning kick.

    "Big brother, can I play with Hansel tomorrow too?" His little sister tugged on his shirt as he finished. He pat her head while looking away.

    "We'll talk about that tomorrow. Let's just head home for now. I have to make dinner. Your begging is finally being acknowledged."

    "Yay! Stew!" She jumped into the car quickly, looking at Sierra. "Why's skin so dark? Did you get burnt? Sunburn hurts, doesn't it?"

    "It may be a slight burn, but it's mostly just a darker tan, Sophie. Don't jump to conclusions." Conan responded as he got into the car.

    "So it doesn't hurt then?" The girl looked at the older woman again. "If it does, tell me. I'll ask the lady at the clinic for some burny cream!"
     
  7. Sierra squeezed into the truck, and looked down at the little girl coldy.
    She hated children.
    "Nope. I'm fine." She responded, and then pulled out her iphone to text some more, completly ignoring everyone.

    Her phone rang, it was some screamo song. Which was weird, no one expected her to listen to screamo.
    "Hey! Tristan!"

    "What? No, it's a dinky farm in the middle of nowhere, I'm sure."

    "Oh baby, I'll be back soon. Don't party too much without me, and you better leave some hotties for me!"

    "Oh please, bitch, I can get any man I want."
    She laughed loudly.

    "Yeah.. Alright darling. I'll text you. Love you! Bye!"

    She hung up, a smile now on her lips.
    She really loved Tristan, but he was gay.
     
  8. The small girl tugged on her brother's shirt when they were in the car while they were on the road. "What's a bitch, big brother?"

    "Nothing you should worry about right now, Sophie." He responded, trying not to glare at the older girl in the back. Using such language in front of a young girl was insane, in his opinion, and it generally wasn't considered very lady like. He'd have a word with her about it later.

    "Sierra, you may want to give your friend our land line number. Unlike town, we don't get good cellular reception on the farm." The father mused.

    Conan chortled. "Wouldn't it be better she didn't use our land line anyway? It's old, breaks up a lot, and we pay an arm and a leg for it for minimum service. We get more out of our dial-up than our actual phone. If she needs the phone that bad, I'll drive the truck with 'er myself to town and let her talk while I do errands. She doesn't seem the type to be willing to help with the farm anyway, so it'd be better we didn't have her in the way while we're working, right?"

    "Now, Conan, no need to be so uncertain. I'm sure the animals would love the lass."

    "As long as she don't sneak up on them. I can handle a kick to the gut by a foal, but she doesn't look like she's ready. If she wants to help with animals, let her stick with the chickens. They may peck, but we can at least handle that medical care more than if a calf breaks her bones."
     
  9. Sierra heard them talking about her, but she just sighed and rolled her eyes.
    "I didn't really plan on helping at all." She said, looking at her nails.
    "I mean, I payed hella for these nails, you know."

    Sierra saw a small farm coming into view.
    "Oh my God, is this it?" She asked, sitting up straight.
    It was tiny.
    The whole house was the size of her living room at home.

    She knew this would not be good.
     
  10. "Just to warn you, if you get in our way while we work, you don't eat. We make our food ourselves." Conan responded to her briskly before getting out of the car. "By the way...Why pay for nails if you have 'em? I'm sure yours were fine as they were." He got out of the car and went to the back, getting the bags- or he would have, if his father didn't stop him.

    "Conan, you go ahead and start on the stew. I'll bring the lass and her bags inside. You shouldn't hurt yourself further."

    "I'm fine, Pa...But fine. It takes time to make stew anyway." Conan waltzed inside easily, making his way to the kitchenette nearby. His father began bringing the many bags inside, on his own, while turning to Sierra.

    "This way, lass. You can start unpacking right away. It's not much, but you can use the room we're giving you as you like." He led her to a small room, but it was actually one of the bigger rooms of the house. "We leave the bigger room as the guest room, since guests are special. Thus, you're getting the big room. This used to be my wife's and my room, but...I don't need such a big room now that she's passed." He smiled. "I know Conan's a tough cookie, but he actually means well. Be sure to try to get along with him. He's not good with people...But he does actually care. It was his idea to make a special meal for your arrival, you know." He smiled, leaving her be before adding, "Be careful if you go out at night, though, lass. The dark brings wolves. And I don't mean the metaphorical kind."

    In the kitchen, meanwhile, Conan was carefully chopping turnips and mixing a stew base that was entirely home made. The turnips that he chopped were quickly put in to simmer, while he also baked a few potatoes and began setting up the table. Sophie came in while he was cooking and began setting the table, and soon enough everything was set. While his father began setting the food to serve, Conan knocked on the guest room door. "Food's ready, so it's time to eat. Take a break and have some food."
     
  11. Sierra smiled kindly at the father. He was pretty nice. Maybe she didn't have to be snooty to him.
    "Thank you." She said, and when he left, went to the bathroom to wash her face.
    The plane had made the makeup melt a little, so she decided she'd just wash it all off for now.
    Who cared anyway, in a place like this?

    She took a quick shower, and blow dried her hair.
    Then put it in a pony tail, and changed into a pair of skinny jeans and a regular band t-shirt.
    She took her platforms and put them in the small closet, and put on a pair of flats.

    The room was tiny, but her stuff fit well enough. Yawning, she walked downstairs to join them for supper.
    "What's for dinner?" She asked, sitting down.
    "And can I have some sparkling water?" She asked, looking at her empty glass.
    "Oh, and maybe some creme brulee for dessert?" She smiled.
     
  12. "This is a farm, not a five star restaurant." Conan retorted. "And dinner's turnip stew with baked potato and tossed salad." He watched her walk out, and looked away for a moment as he added, "You look better that way. I can finally tell you're human and not some dress up doll from a toy store, life size." He gave a meek smile before heading to the kitchen table, leading her there. We do have seltzer...That's what sparkling water is, right?" He looked to his dad, who nodded.

    "It's the closest thing. Oh, but what is for dessert, Conan?"

    "Tiramisu. I thought it would be a nice change."

    "Big brother went all out! I knew it!" The small girl cried cheerfully as she took her usual seat. Conan and his father took seats as well, and waited for Sierra to sit down.

    "Take a taste. It may look simple, but home-cooked food is far better than you can guess unless you try it. The simplest dish, when made right, can be the best."
     
  13. Sierra smiled polietly as she sat down and took a small sip of the soup. It was alright.
    "Oh, it's good. But how many calories does it have?" She asked, sipping her water, and making a small salad with nothing on it.
    "I'll have to work out tomorrow, so I need to know." She clarified.

     
  14. "Just eat it. It's not like we know the calories of our own crops and milk." He responded simply. "If you're worried about weight, just do some work tomorrow with us. Farm work is plenty a work-out." He ate quietly after that, enjoying the gentle flavors and textures. He ate his food simply, treating it with care. "Every chore is a work out. They say the best work out is housework, you know."

    "That's why big brother's big right? Because he works a lot."

    "Yep. That's why I'm big and strong...Eat right and work hard, and your body will thank you for it later. That's why I've never gotten sick once."

    "It's true. This kid's never gotten more than a cold, and even then, it was mild." The man laughed.

    As they ate, conversation was minimal but gentle and light. When the food was done, Conan was the first to stand up and start clearing the table. He then set out small cups of a fluffy sweet- it was a small tiramisu, made to a gentle portion. After divvying it out to everyone, he sat down. "Eat up and enjoy." He tasted the light, fluffy sweet easily, enjoying it with gentle manners. The subtle yet well blended flavors danced in his mouth. "Mom's recipe really is the best."
     
  15. "This is like, really good!" Sierra said, smiling as she took a bite.

    "I never have home cooked food, well, not made by mom, anyway. Our cooks make it."
    She laughed.

    "But this is like, amazing!"
     
  16. "Conan is possibly the best cook in the family." The father mused with delight. "I cook moderately, but Conan's cooking is more like his mother's. Gentle and tasty. As they say, you really can see into people through the food they make."

    "Pa, shut up." Conan snapped at his father easily. The man merely laughed it off, already acknowledging that his son's sharp tongue was how it was, and he was seemingly perfectly fine with it. "It's easy enough to make. For all that matters I could teach how to make it. I think the reason it's so good is it's fresh and made from fresh ingredients. Food always tastes better straight from the source."

    "And good company helps," His father added, smiling. Conan merely looked away, eating in silence. "For you there's good news, Sierra. You'll be eating actually home-made food from now on. It's also healthier."
     
  17. Sierra finished off her dessert and smiled brightly.

    "I've never really eaten home made food, to be honest. I always eat take out, or expensive food made by a chef."
    She brushed some crumbs off her shirt.

    "So, did you mom teach you to cook, or did you learn on your own, Conan?" She asked, looking over at him.

     
  18. "Mom taught me a bit before she passed," Conan responded simply. "Dad's done a bit too. But I mostly taught myself."

    "This boy used to spend hours working in the kitchen trying to figure out how to make something that he thought turned out good. He wouldn't let anyone taste it before he felt it was right." His father added.

    "It'd be stupid if I let someone eat my food and get sick from it," The boy retorted. "I'm not an idiot."

    "Yes, yes. But you're also a perfectionist. But that's why your food really is the best."

    "I think the ingredients are what make it so good, dad. You guys really take care of the crops after all. And the animals love you too."

    "Yep! Dad's loved by everyone!" The youngest in the room chimed. "But I think big brother is pretty nice too!" She watched as her brother looked away slightly, clearly embarrassed but trying desperately not to show it. This made her giggle before looking at Sierra. "He just doesn't like to admit it."
     
  19. Sierra listened quietly.
    Silently and secretly wishing her family was like this.
    All the money in the world couldn't fill the hole in her heart.

    She smiled polietly.
    "He seems to be nice when he feels like it."
    She said, teasing him.

    "I'd love to learn how to cook, but I don't really have the time."
    Well, that wasn't true.
    She had the time- but she was usually out partying.
     
  20. "What could you possibly have to do in this town that takes so much time?" Conan inquired with a huff. His eyes returned to look at her, but only for a moment.

    "Says the boy who works until nearly collapsing half the time," His father intervened.

    "Let me reiterate. Besides farm work and the like, what is there to do in this town that takes so much time?" He scoffed off his father's attempts at pointing out his hypocritical statement. "There's not much cellular signal and even the phone's pretty bad in this area. Our internet's slower than a mule...And the closest town with shops is about an hour away driving."

    "True...For a young girl not used to it, this place would be a bit boring..." The father mused. "It'd be wrong of us to put her to work though...Ah! Perhaps you can teach her to cook, since she mentioned she's been interested in learning. You mentioned you'd teach Sophie soon anyway, when she's ready. Maybe it'll get you prepared to teach her."

    "It'd have to be after the animals are taken care of. And it'd take more time than already used to teach, so your work load might increase a bit, Pa."

    "I can help daddy more." Sophie intruded. "Big brother should help the pretty lady. Then the pretty lady can teach me!" Somehow, Conan chuckled at this. So this was his sister's recent thought pattern? It was interesting, no doubt, to Conan.