Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by catalyst, Nov 26, 2014.

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  1. ".... Well I'm glad you made it safely," an older, melodic voice rang from the other line on the cellphone. Ryleigh smiled. "I'll let you get back to your unpacking. Check in later, won't you?"

    "Yes, Grandma. Thanks for everything. Love you."

    "Love you, too, sweetie."

    Click. Ending the phone call, the brunette set her cellphone on the counter and turned back towards her living room, looking at all the boxes she still had left to unpack. Her first day in Paris and she'd be spending it unpacking until she at least had all that was necessary set out. Her first day in Paris.... incredible.

    Three years ago she never thought she'd end up here. Not that she was planning to live in France for the rest of her life, but still. It was just... it was incredible. She had acted on impulse and now she was over 4000 miles away from all her family and friends. Away from her home.

    But Ryleigh was determined but find something more in life, something she knew - or desperately hoped - was here in the city of love.

    Starving and jet-lagged like no other, the young woman could really go for some kosher Paris treats. Were people in Paris nice like those neighbors you saw on American television shows that came over to the newcomers with gift baskets and other such treats?

    Ryleigh wouldn't count on it, so instead she decided to unpack a few more things before she'd gather her wallet and head out.
  2. The Troublesome Twins, red

    Jake and Jacob plane had just touched down and they were in the line, waiting to get their bags. Once they did, they headed outside and looked around for a cab. "Man, why don't we just walk to the apartments and enjoy the scenery?" Jake muttered towards Jacob, who rolled his eyes. "In these shoes? I don't think so." Jacob commented then pointed his index finger outward. "See, there is a cab right there." They started to walk towards the cab but was cut off by a women, who was speaking rapidly in French. Jake laughed while Jacob was trying to calm her down.

    With the shake of his head, Jake placed the palm of his hand onto Jacob's shoulder and spoke. "So, shall we take that walk now?" Jacob tugged himself from Jake's grasp then turned heel and walked in the opposite direction. Jake followed behind him, checking out many men along the way. "Oh, I am so glad we decided to come here." He whispered towards Jacob then heard his iPhone 6 ring. "Hello. Oh, hey dad." Jacob's cell phone rung next and it was their mother.

    Jake and Jacob nodded their heads at their parents words about being safe, sticking together and staying out of trouble, which they both just looked at each other and smirked at. "Alright. Bye." They both said and hung up their phones simultaneously. As they reached their apartment destination, they got their room number and headed up.

    Jake had accidentally bumped into a girl as he snapped his fingers. "Damn. Watch where you are going, Sistah." Jacob looked at Jake then the female. "He's sorry for bumping into you." Jacob whispered then looked at Jake. "Aren't you, Jake?" Jake sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now, leave her and come on so we can unpack." Jake said while rushing upstairs, going to the apartment room number they were given. "Sorry again." Jacob said with the nod of his head and rushed up the stairs as well.

    "I cannot believe you." Jacob said as he entered the room. Jake looked at him. "Spare me the save the citizen lecture, okay?" Jacob shook his head while placing his bags onto the opposite bed then turned back to Jake. "Look, we came here to prove to Mom and Dad that we can make it on our own. Can we at least try not to fight?" Jake heard those words and teared up then laughed. "Awe, your words get to me sometimes." Jacob shook his head with sigh and started unpacking his bags.

    As soon they were done unpacking, they walked down the stairs and outside, sniffing the air. "Hey, I'm going to the museum." Jacob said. "Really? You don't want to get something to eat first?" Jake said in a concerned tone as Jacob shrugged his shoulders. "Sure. Why not." They both smiled and wrap an arm on each other shoulders as they went to the nearest cafe.
  3. The apartment needed furniture. It was unavoidable. Right now, there were just three rooms: an open kitchen, with room enough for something of a dining and living area to be created; and then, out of it, a small hallway that had a small room on one side- no door- and a bathroom on the other side. Currently, there was just a mattress in the secluded room, with a duffel bag full of Rhonwen's things. She hadn't brought much with her, just the clothes that she had in college. There hadn't been much, but it would make do, at least until she could secure a job.

    The young woman stepped out of the shower and dried herself. She put her wet hair in a braid, and dressed simply; jeans, white shirt, green sweater, short black boots. Then she leaned against the wall and looked at her new apartment. It needed furniture.

    Rhonwen had arrived the previous night. She had no furniture of her own to send over, and no money to buy any with. The mattress had been enough of a blow to her savings as it was; except for food, Rhonwen hoped to avoid spending any more money until she had at least some sort of a job.

    The blonde turned around and looked out the window of her new home. The view was nice, she had to admit; the city of Paris looked golden in the light. It was perfect for an artist like herself. That would be the first thing that she'd do, once she was truly settled, Rhonwen decided; she would buy a sketchbook and some pencils, and draw this. A sardonic smile shaped Rhonwen's features; maybe she could do commissions and sell some art for a while, too. Nothing like the life of a starving artist in Paris, right?

    But that would take some time, and Rhonwen would need to eat before she could be cashing in on her art. So she took her phone and her wallet and her keys, and left the building. The young woman thought she remembered seeing a 'help wanted' sign in a restaurant window; she could at least start there.
  4. Jean viewed their apartments with a level of distaste, they had been her for a week or so at this point and he still hadn't grown used to it. He had been down right furious when he first saw the place his sister, Tabitha, had picked for the two of them.

    It was a small apartment with what you could call, well, and open floor plan. When you came in through the front door you were instantly in the main room of the place. On the wall there was hooks for you coats, and below it was a rack for ones shoes. The room itself wasn't to big or small. It'd be a huge living room, in fact, if it wasn't for the fact that the kitchen was also crammed into the area. If you looked to the right he saw a island counter which served as a separator between the rest of the room and the wall lined with a fridge, counters, sink, and oven.

    If you looked to the left you would see a beat up white coffee table that didn't match the wood cabinets of the kitchen or the hard wood of the floor at all. Under the coffee table at a plush purple rug Tabitha had purchased one day, claiming her feet got to cold in the morning for the not to how a rug. Against one wall sat a beat up futon which served as Jean's bed, and to the further most left wall there was a glass door with cheep lace curtains that the last owner had left for obvious reasons(they were an eye sore). Just through the glass doors there was a small terrace, which was fenced off by slightly rusted metal bars. A small law chair was placed out there for the siblings viewing pleasure of paris.

    On the wall furthest from the door there was a short hallways, less of a hallway and more of an indent, which held two doors. One leadings to Tabitha's bedroom, and the other to the only bathroom in the house. These doors were already littered with paint as they were the first thing Tabitha decided she couldn't stand being white any longer. The doors themselves, Jean now had to admit to himself, looks little little masterpieces one would find in a museum. His sister, after all, was quite talented at what she did.

    All in all, their apartment was quite bare. Tabitha had never been one to think things through, and Jean had been stupid enough to make the mistake of trusting she knew what she was doing. He really couldn't be all to mad, however. He had quickly come to love paris. It inspired him like nothing ever had before. He was now over flowing with ideals and new melodies, where at home he was starting to run dry. So maybe, just maybe, Tabitha knew what she was talking about.

    Just as he was getting Really lost in thought Tabitha burst out of her room and rushed towards him with an excited look, "Do you want to go to the little cafe just down the street, Jeanie-Weanie?"

    He had to step back so she didn't crash into him and hurt them both, "What?"

    "The Cafe! Oh, please say yes!"


    Before he really knew what was going on Tabitha let out a loud shirk of joy and snatched him up into a hug, before promptly pushing him away to fetch her shoes. Jean followed behind at a slower, mildly dazed, pace.
  5. Jason sat on the special floor of his apartment, donned in a light gray sweater and jeans, comfortably seated in a bean bag by the wall. His apartment was one of the first ones, as well as being the most expensive, rather nice and spacious just for him. The first floor, starting from the door, was just open space. To the left was the small kitchen and dining room, while the right didn't really serve as much, as it wasn't a pop-out kind of space like the dining area. Straight ahead, underneath a balcony made of metal spanning from the corner of the kitchen to the other side of the apartment. A bed was placed directly ahead underneath the small second floor, a dresser in the corner as well as miscellaneous other things. Half of the wall was open by the kitchen and was covered in books; the wall was just one giant bookshelf that stopped halfway before continuing, a spiral staircase leading up.

    The second floor was shorter in height. The rest of the wall was a bookshelf and everything else was white and wood, a balcony on the far end near the top of his bed overlooking the back of Paris, while a bathroom was above the front entrance. Books, books, and more books. Comfortable chairs and bean bags were sprawled on the floor, numerous rugs scattering the surface. The owner of the apartment flipped through one classic Shakespeare book in French, the gentle swaying sound of classical music playing in the background up above, a light breeze blowing his curtains and causing a fresh smell to enter.

    A bakery was just across the street and the smell of freshly prepared bread wafted inside on warm days, sometimes even flowers when a flower vendor stood outside the bakery trying to sell roses or other beautiful flowers.

    Jason was generally quiet, offering everyone in the apartment complex a warm smile. He knew a few of the neighbors, though the managers had said there would be a great influx arriving soon. More neighbors meant more noise, but more neighbors also meant escaping lonely nights on his laptop or phone. He hummed along to the classical music as he kept reading his book, thoughts swimming through his mind.
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  6. "....James didn't want to let go, but he knew he had to. He thought that surely, he either looked like an idiot, or a needy person who likes to cling to others and annoy them. He let go of Brian's sleeve with a very slow hand, like he wasn't sure if he would completely let go, but he did. When he was asked about his skin again, He looked up at Brian, at his face. ".....I... should see..." He said sparingly, and headed towards the bathroom. Once inside, he looked at himself in the mirror and frowned a little. He was indeed pale, and skinnier than he remembered. "...." he felt like he was too. His face was pale, and his eye sockets dark. James didn't like this, and took a step back from his reflection, like it might jump out and hurt him.

    James had looked at his face with a sort of disdain, and he suddenly remembered why he hated it. It was the face of pain, of anger, hate and sadness. The look of guilt. That's what it was, that missing feature, guilt. He was guilty, no doubt about it, and he hated himself so much that he didn't even want to look at himself. He covered his face with his hands, almost clawing at it like he wanted to get it off and away from him, but he knew he couldn't. He could feel the skin under his fingertips, the beating of his pulse on his wrist, which was increasing more and more, and the hatred crawling its way back up his throat, choking him. He became frightened. Frightened and scared. Of who? Himself. He was afraid of himself, and in that moment, he peeked through he fingers that covered his face and saw someone terrifying looking back at him. James yelled, and took another step back, tripping on the ledge and falling into the still-wet tub with a loud "thud". He hit his head on the back tile harshly, but not hard enough to knock himself unconscious. His breaths were fast and short, like he was afraid and had seen a ghost, but it was only his reflection...."

    Jude's shaky breath filled the quiet space around him, and he closed the book slowly. The story was quickly moving him to tears, and he needed to stop soon so that he didn't start crying right then and there. It was incredible, the power of a book. Immersing you in a world you never thought you could imagine. Sometimes, it almost felt too real, and that's when Jude knew he had to stop. He was getting too emotionally attached to this character, because he saw himself in James. Funny, only a minute ago he was frowning at the subtle rain that poured against James's window.

    With a few controlled huffs, Jude closed his eyes and calmed down. He held the book close to his chest before putting it back in it's place, right next to the other spines of romance novels. He made a note to himself never to pick that book back up, but knew damn well that he would be back shortly, begging himself to continue on where he left off. He needed to know what would happen, even if it made him cry. He needed to know the end, be it good or bad. It was refreshing in a way, forgetting his own feelings and picking up anothers. He loved it, loved saddening himself by feeling others emotions. He was addicted to this pain, in a sad, masochistic way that made him happy. Even if nobody understood, Jude would always (somewhat) understand himself, and seek out this pain.

    Right now was not the time to read romance novels though. Sure, he didn't have any courses today, but he still had things he needed to do. A list of grocery shopping, laundry and finishing unpacking weighed in over his head. They may have seemed unimportant to him at the moment though, because all he could do was wander over to his small window and peer out at the street below. He was a naturally curious boy who followed what his heart said.

    'Today is a new day. I can finally be on my own.. take care of myself without depending on others..' The small hint of a smile tugged at his reddish lips, and he watched the people pass by. '....I can do whatever I want....' His glee caused the smile to spread, and he quickly pulled on his long black overcoat. He was free to do what he wanted now, which in the spur of the moment meant going outside. On his way he grabbed his wallet and phone, then headed out the door.

    That sudden spark of inspiration was stifled though when his key wouldn't turn in the doorway. No matter what he tried, it just wouldn't turn, and if it wouldn't turn then Jude couldn't lock his door. It wasn't like he was afraid of someone breaking in but... he was afraid of someone breaking in. He just moved in, he didn't need a robbery to send him back to poverty and moving from roommate to roommate. Now, not only did the key not turn, but it wouldn't come out of the socket! He kept pulling and turning, hoping to at least get if free from the old lock mechanism inside. After several minutes of trying, he exhaled a heavy sigh and slumped against the door. His back leaned against the white wood and he frowned, not knowing what to do. This was quite the predicament. Perhaps he could look up a solution on his phone, or if worse came to worse, ask the landlord for help.

    The mere thought of it made him shiver, as the landlord didn't quite like him. Jude barely scraped by, which meant that he was constantly being kept an eye on. He was innocent, but apparently there was something suspicious about his "comings and goings." It was simply nothing more than the fact that he was a college student. The landlord would just have to deal with him, and keep collecting payments each month until he could move out again.

    Those thoughts did nothing but make him more despaired though, and Jude huffed in defeat. A little silver key kept him from running out into the somewhat nice streets of Paris, from the lovely smell of fresh-baked bread and acid-rain-washed old buildings. If was humiliating in a way, that an object so small defeated him in the simplest of tasks. Still, he would rather it be stuck than gone altogether. Now that would be bad.

    "Coincé dans un trou de serrure... coincé dans un trou de serrure..." He repeated, stating his dilemma. The hushed lonely hallway of the long corridor was filled with sunlight, and Jude sighed once more, mind drawing a blank on what to do. He just sat there, frowning and sighing and trying to imagine what the landlord would say to him if they found out. Bad things, probably.

    He would figure something out.
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  7. Meric

    Watching his cell phone vibrate with its flashy digital lights displaying the same unwanted number for the umpteenth time was driving Meric up the wall. The serene ambiance of the immaculate Bibliothèque de la Sorbonne, with their breathtaking archway architecture and elaborate medical section, couldn't keep his focus away from Malcomn's constant calls. It's only been a week since his sudden eureka moment, when he just up and packed his apartment in Manchester, dropped all of his medical courses, signed his pink slip from the Fine Arts Conservatory, and waved the good old U.S. of A. goodbye for good. It was sudden, he understood that, and a lot of his friends and family were - in light of better words - stunned and confused about his actions. Well, all except for one - Malcom knew exactly what he had done and why, and he was furious about it. Meric knew that just from the 82 phone calls and the 26 voice messages he refuse to listen to. His haunting nightmares were trying to become reality....

    "No," Meric mumbled to himself as he shut off his cell, planning on stopping by Bouygues Telecom on the way home to change cell service provider and gain a new number. Pushing away his old world for the better one he's found is proving to be harder than he thought, but Meric had found paradise - there's no way he was going to give that up now!

    After checking out a few new books to satisfy his cravings for medicine and poetry, purchasing a new French style cell phone with all the bells and whistles, and grabbing some Champignon Portabella aux Quatre Fromages and a Gelato for lunch, Meric returned to his flat. He honestly didn't do that much today. There were several University hospitals with laboratories specializing in BioRobotics that he was interested in. Visiting the few on his list landed him several interview schedules, which pleased him greatly. He figured if he is able to fully settle down, find a good job in his field, and hopefully a University with similar studies, then he can finally claim this golden city as his own and seek out more enjoyable ways to manage his time. His studies and livelihood were important, but Meric wouldn't be all fun and games if he didn't have a bit of magic in his life.

    "Ah, my dear love, job before hobbies," he whistled to himself as he marched up the two flights of stairs and headed down the hallway to his abode. Humming some adorable French Pop song he caught on the radio during his commute, Meric fumbled with his messenger bag filled with books to find his keys while balancing the take-out lunch plate and his covered cup of gelato while he walked. His eyes glanced up for just a moment before double-taking again towards a guy sitting on the floor before one of the hallway doors. Room 209 it was... Now, Meric's had a chance, a time or two, to politely converse with a few people who shares a flat on the same floor with him, but never has he truly gotten to know their stories; their names, at least, would of been wise to collect with first impressions. All he could recall from the younger man was that he was rather hand's on - very personal in a sense; almost as if he held a trait in slight-of-hand, or as his father likes to call it, pick-pocketing. Regardless, the look of the guy's face told Meric that there was something wrong about this situation.

    Why was he sitting outside of his flat?

    "Bonjour voisin,Belle journée, n'est pas?" His heavy Scandinavian accent sounded posh with a French tongue, but his pronunciation needed work. "Unless...you've been sitting here all day." Meric knew they weren't really neighbors, per se, since his flat was seven doors down, but it was a polite way to break the ice. Besides, he was somewhat curious about this situation and didn't want to sound rude about his presence in the hallway. Stepping before him, he settled his things in his arms and extended his hand. "The names Meric - from 215, if you don't recall. Seems like you're having a bit of trouble. Is there any way I can assist you?"
    #7 Phi Chisym, Dec 21, 2014
    Last edited: Dec 21, 2014
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  8. Jude looked up at the stranger and took his hand gently, allowing himself to be pulled up to standing position with ease. He shook that larger hand out of common politeness, then disparagingly looked down at his doorknob. "Well you see... it's stuck. My key went in, but it won't come out, which simply ruined my plans.." He said softly, letting go. "I mean, it wasn't anything important, but it's still a problem." His frowning features didn't suit him as he leaned reached over to tug at it again. "I don't understand, it was working just fine earlier..."

    Jude dropped his hand back to his side in defeat, as he was already previously done with trying. It just wasn't going to budge for him, which was a problem. A huff of confusion was followed by slender fingers pushing his hair out of his eyes. "Maybe I need butter or something...." His eyes glanced up at the taller of the two, and Jude recognized the considerable height difference. 'He's a lot bigger than me..." He noted, stepping back a little bit from the close proximity. They just met, and yet he was staring!

    He stuttered and looked away quickly, flushing a little from embarrassment. "S-sorry, my name is Jude..." His fingers tugged at his coat, and he tried not to be awkward, but the smaller male definitely doing just that.
  9. Meric

    Quickly seeing how nervous the young man was as he explained the problem he was having with his key, Meric nodded politely and stepped towards his door; leaning over to inspect it himself to find it as he said. "This is very peculiar, indeed," he responded with a rub of his chin. Standing up taller, Meric happily nodded, "But you have the right idea... Give me... a second..."

    With his clumsy quick step, Meric rushed down the hall as fast as possible, finally finding his keys to open his door. Dropping his lunch on the kitchen counter, and his bag at the bar, he rushed into his bedroom where, in the walk-in closet where most of his unpacked items were stored, he fumbled through them to find a fugitive from America he knew he could never do without.

    Strutting back with a blue and yellow can of WD-40 proudly held in his hand, Meric returned to Jude's door with a big grin. "I knew packing certain commodities from home would be spot on. Happy to say I have several cans of this stuff stored away; can't get quality anywhere else but America, when it comes to solutions for strange problems, I say." Taking the small red straw from its side, he inserted it into the spraying nozzle and pointed it into a space between the key and the keyhole. Giving Jude a glance, he nodded, "Might want to step back a bit, it might spray out forcefully. It's a wonder-work, but it stinks like a Redneck mechanic from Texas."

    Giving the keyhole two spits did indeed cause the lubricant to spurt out, but not too far. It landed on his hand, which made Meric grimace, but it didn't matter. The deed is done. Giving the key a few little jerks to help the oil to spread, he gave it a few hard twist. The key slipped right out, covered slightly with the WD-40. He sprayed a little more into the hole, then placed the key inside again to wiggle it once more before turning it. The lock clicked. Then, with another turn of the wrist, it unlocked as if there was nothing wrong.

    "Ah! Here you go - just needs a cleaning, but it's free." He handed the key to Jude with a confident grin. "Sorry about the mess though, but that should work for the time being. You should still get it checked by the landlord, if possible."
  10. By the time Ryleigh finally decided to leave her apartment, most of the kitchen was filled with necessities. Spices, mixes, canned goods, and medications were all set up in the cupboards. She also put bathroom necessities away, and made her bed before her stomach was growling in its defense for her to take some action and finally get some food.

    Sighing in the feeling of small accomplishment, the young female straightened her simple white t-shirt and faded skinny jeans. She put on a pair of black booties and shrugged a black blazer on before grabbing her keys and wallet. Then, the brunette left her apartment, closing the door and locking it behind her. It was only after she did this that she spotted a couple of men outside one of the doors. Oh! Neighbors, perhaps? At least one of them was.

    It seemed they were busy, though, and since she was headed the opposite way from then, they didn't spot her. Maybe some other time.
  11. Jude watched his neighbor unlock the door with the mystery-American spray, and was a little impressed. He seemed to have the perfect lubricant for this situation (which was a little concerning) and the lock began to work. The doorknob's locking mechanism seemed almost new with the ease that Meric was using to turn it. This new neighbor was very polite. Where Jude's from, people never went out of their way to help, so it was a surprise that left a smile on his face.

    He took the key and felt the slippery substance rub on his fingertips. "Thank you very much..." His smile only widened, and some hair fell in front of his right eye. "If there is anything I can do to repay you, please let me know." The friendly tone was inviting, as he was an easy person to please. The simple intricacies of his mind were twists and turns which led from happiness from simple "thank you's" to tears of a romance novel. There really wasn't a way to tell just what he felt, because even he didn't know himself. Right now though, it was obvious he was happy.

    "You can come by anytime, kay?" He told Meric, hoping that maybe he would be taken up on that offer. Jude didn't have anyone to talk to anymore really, so he didn't have any friends. Meric seemed like a nice individual up front, and he thought that it might be nice to get to know him better.
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  12. "You're most certainly welcome," Meric responded with a tilt of his head. He was satisfied in this moment - meeting someone at the apartments for once, rather than just noticing them from a distance. It wasn't so hard, getting to know a new set of faces with names and emotions and histories attached to them. He's never met a stranger, for sure there, but Meric's fears meeting an enemy or a false friends. That's something he dreads might happen again, but regardless of this, Meric is always going to be friendly... Everything else, he's got to work on a bit more.

    "If there is anything I can do to repay you, please let me know." Jude's happiness created a bubbly sensation in Meric's spirit, similar to when he use to do magic shows for kids' birthdays or children's events at various hospitals. The guys' youthfulness gave Meric that impression, that he'd make another child thrilled beyond belief by pulling some amazing illusion that was far too complicated to explain. But he knew Jude had to be in his early 20's or so, not to be mistaken as a little kid. It was, however, rather hard to with that babyface of his.

    Creating joy was Meric's specialty through magic, but this was a first for him - making someone happy with a simple household remedy for old locks. "Ah, that won't be necessary. It's just a neighborly jester; it would of been rude of me otherwise."

    "You can come by anytime, kay?" And this was another first. Meric gaining an invite. His eyes widened, for he's never had anyone consider him worth their time to get to know. In America, to have all the 'right stuff' was nothing if you bored the life out of people. He can make friends easily enough, but as soon as he opens his mouth to speak about all the things that interest him, like science, medicine, robotics, literature, magic and dance... Well, it didn't help much.

    Now, Meric was showing signs of nervousness, rubbing the back of his neck and shifting his weight from one foot to the other as if he had to rush off somewhere. But, a soft smile lingered across his lips as he realized the bare facts presence before him. He was, in a new country, and Jude here did invite him. No one knew him here to be the 'Gorgeous Geek', as they use to call him in college. Besides, as Meric calmed himself and gave Jude another glance, he sensed that perhaps his neighbor fell into the same category as he did.

    "Alright, that would be nice. I don't know a lot of people here - just moved in last week and still getting the hang of La Paris." He raised his hand towards Jude for another friendly handshake. "And the invite echos to you as well. It's no fun hanging about a new country without a friend or two." Stepping towards his side of the hall, Meric gave him another nod, "Well, I must be going; lunch is getting cold and I'm determined to land a job by the end of the week. So, there's more searching to be done. Good day, Jude."

    Just as Meric turned to leave, he spotted a form moving down the hall, going the opposite direction. It looked to be a female with rather long dark hair. He's never seen her before, and wondered which apartment she stepped out of. It was a mystery, it seems, living in a new flat with countless doors down the hall you share, all full of interesting people...some good, other's not so much. It made stepping out of his cave a unique adventure.

    Giving Jude a wave, Meric entered his apartment once more, and with a deep sigh, he washed his hands and settled down for a well deserved lunch.
    #12 Phi Chisym, Dec 22, 2014
    Last edited: Dec 22, 2014
  13. Ice-cold water trickling down his neck, Lance pressed the leaking icepack on the top right side of his head, not minding the way the water soaked what used to be his crisp, white, button-up shirt. He looked like a walking carcrash victim -- as far as his somewhat self-conscious ego could describe.. Or probably it was just because he couldn't maintain a pulled-together look from the wind welcomed by the top-down, blue Bentley his best friend drove. Resting his right elbow on the window, he leaned to glance at his reflection at the side mirror, only to look away in discreet disgust. His eyes were calm - borderline emotionless, even, and his lips were pursed shut to hold back any emotion from leaking through.

    "What did you do this time?" His friend inquired, head bowing down a little to glance at his companion through his eyeglasses. The male with the icepack chose not to respond. "Look, I can't help you if you won't -"

    "I don't need help." He cut through firmly, shooting a blank glance at his friend who ultimately understood the threat behind what seemed to be his empty gaze. The friend decided to change the subject right away. "Right.. Sooo anywaaay.. Why didn't you bring your bike?" The roaring wind answered for him for a few seconds, and as he was about to say something again, Lance cut him off for the second time.

    "The kids shot paintballs at it last month. Had to go through an expensive paintjob after that. Not letting it happen again."

    Assuming that he was in a terrible mood, Aldrich decided not to probe any further. He wouldn't want to deal with a stingy Lance this early - not that he had seen him become hotheaded ever, it's just that he had never really seen him snap. And you know what they say, those who choose to keep it in tend to explode really bad when the right opportunity comes. Much to his worries however, Lance was far from angry. He was just deep in thought. What did he do wrong this time? He was just on his way out from his father's house after spending a couple of days there when his devious half brother managed to convince his little cousins to pull a prank on him. Having a hardbound encyclopaedia land on his head from the third floor wasn't exactly pleasant. But he did all he could to be nice even after all that..

    "Head still hurts. 'Need a drink."
    "This early? You know, there is this awesome invention called aspirin..."
    "- ayt, shutting up now.."

    Upon arriving at the front of the apartment building, Lance grabbed his red duffel bag and jumped off the vehicle, ignoring Aldrich's protest to keep the car scratch-free. As he stood before the door, he turned around to face his friend.

    "Thanks." He said, eyes a little widened that displaced innocent appreciation. His friend totally read through that, and nodded in return. Heaving a sigh of relief upon seeing his friend smile next, he thought it was a good sign that he wasn't annoyed to begin with. "Anytime, bud."

    Making his entrance in the apartment building, he hurried off to the stairs, skidding to a stop when a female tenant came across his way. She didn't look familiar at all - probably a newcomer he assumed, but then again he never had the time to mingle with his neighbors. Dismissing the thought, he stepped aside to give way and nodded at Ryleigh with a soft apology. His eyes lingered on her for a few seconds before looking away though, using that short time to memorize her features. He might see her again anytime in this building, so why ignore her?
    But then again, the realization that he looked like a soaked mess dawned on him and he immediately proceeded to climb the stairs to his room. He wouldn't want to chat with a female while looking like that, right? Maybe next time.
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  14. With a simple disregard of the nervous actions, Jude parted his ways with Meric. The key was tucked back into the black cotton pocket, and Jude could finally go among his business, which was now to fill his growling stomach. Soup sounded nice, as well as perhaps a la cafe.

    He smiled to himself in a silly manor and walked down the hallway with nice thoughts in tow. Meric lingered there, suspended in the vast catacombs of Jude's thoughts. He kept the happy thoughts as his subconscious racked him for nervous ticks, moods, actions. It was a habit, decoding people, one which Jude wished he could ignore. But life simply wasn't that easy. In fact, it wasn't easy at all, which is why he was here in this apartment today.

    It was a nice, somewhat old one though. One with personality, which made Jude appreciate architecture. Sometimes seeing beautiful old buildings would remind him of a place in his mind, his favorite place. It was almost ironic that his apartment complex looked similar to the one in his mind. Perhaps it was something he saw in the past, a subconscious thing that affected his dreams. Or maybe it was just filling in what he could never remember. He didn't remember, which neither proved the theory correct or incorrect.

    Jude passed by someone, politely bowing his head in a nod accompanied by, "Bonne journée." He caught a glance at the others face, towering higher than his own by much. It seemed that he was the shortest person he's seen today, how troubling. Jude shook his head and pushed his hair out of his eyes once more to take the first few steps down the stairs. The hunger was mostly driving him now, filling up his thoughts with different types of french foods, and oh... the parfaits....
  15. Jason decided to finally exit his apartment, though he definitely needed to bring his book with. His boyfriend liked to read stories with him and buy him books, this one being part of a list he had written before he was taken off life support. There was still enough room in his apartment to actually put away more books and keep buying more, and usually he would go do that, but this time he just wanted to spend enough money on food and maybe some nice flowers to put in his small kitchen.

    He stood up from his spot and tucked the book underneath his arm, letting the music continue, walking back down to the first floor. Jason kept his book close before walking to his front door and exiting, knowing the apartment would be safe while he was gone, but he managed to lock it anyways. He could hear people above and below him moving in. Would this place be full soon?

    Jason stuffed the apartment key back into his pocket before flipping open his book and walking slowly down the hallway, eyes glued to the book as he walked, hand trailing across the banister as he did so, seeing someone pass him easily and apologize to someone or something. He was too glued into his book to realize that he too bumped into the person, surprising himself as the book slipped out of his pale hands and hit the floor.

    "Sorry," he apologized in English, reaching down to pick up the book, swooping down and plucking it from the floor. Jason looked up to see a young man and he bowed his head. This man had gotten run into about two times and he just had to do it again.

  16. Apparently, Rhonwen had picked the wrong time to leave her room- there was something of a commotion in the hallways. She paused outside of her door- wasn't it neighborly to offer help? But after a moment, it seemed that the boy three doors down was getting help with.. Whatever was the problem, she she turned and locked her door, and turned away. Maybe, if she had been walking their way.... Well, no. Even then, she would have ignored the plight. But now she could justify it.

    The elevator, and the stairs, were on the opposite end of the hall, and Rhonwen thought she had spotted another neighbor walking down that way. Perhaps she could still be neighborly after all, she thought as she started down the stairs. But rather than the lady she expected to find, Rhonwen passed a man, who was soaking wet, coming up the stairs. She paused when she saw him, gave a nod of acknowledgement, then decided she would be neighborly. Maybe she'd get something back, at any rate.

    "Do you need a towel or something?" Damn. Her french needed significant work, still.
  17. Lance continued his way through the stairs, eventually encountering what seems to look like a young lad. He had seen this guy before - only a few times actually, and this is the first time he had seen him up close. He does look quite young, but he thought he is probably older than he looks. Lance didn't mean to generalize or stereotype a race, but he always end up guessing wrong when it comes to trying to find out one's year of birth. It took him about three seconds before uttering a quick thanks while bidding him the same and he went on his way, eventually bumping on someone as he made a swift turn toward the second flight of stairs. Noticing the book the other guy held that dropped to the ground, he was relieved he didn't drop the icepack he was holding. Thank you, Spidey reflexes.

    "Sorry," the guy said - and in English too. Lance was a little relieved to have encountered another English speaker (as he is still struggling to be fluent in French, thanks to his accent) but at the same time, he felt a little annoyed at the collision - mostly because of the other man's carelessness.

    "Watch where you're going." Lance said firmly in English as well. But as he realized how snobbish he sounded (and appeared, thanks to his piercing eyes), he followed up in an attempt at comfort as a way to display concern.. "Safety first." He nodded toward the direction of the stairs. Although he knew he didn't really elaborate, it shouldn't take a rocket scientist to get what he meant. He thought it would be fine if he didn't say much.

    Hearing a female voice ahead, he lifted his eyes to look for the owner. It was one of his neighbors and seeing how she looked at him, he only came to realize that she was asking him something. Of course, with him still being a little new to the language, he was only able to understand some parts of what she said. It was an inquiry from the way it sounded, and he understood "towel." Could it be that she was offering him a towel? Most likely, since the icepack he was holding already leaked half of its contents on his clothes. Lance responded with a "no, thank you" in French, his British accent weighing heavily on his O's and R's which sounded weird.

    He had already encountered two chicks today in less then ten minutes. Why does he have to look like a mess right now?
  18. Jude made his way outside and smiled. He inhaled the fresh air that seemed sweet compared to the damp smell in his apartment. It was a beautiful day, the sun was out, people were busy on the street and Jude was free as a bird. The lovely french cobblestone street reminded him of his previous residence downtown, but he dismissed it and crossed the road with others.

    'What should I get at the shop?' He thought to himself, 'I guess I'll just have to see what there is available, and afterwards I'll go to the bookstore down the street.' His smile softened as he entered the cafe, and sat down at a table next to the window. The atmosphere of the place was nice and calm, a friendly overall theme. Jude ordered some simple items and was promptly given them, and he ate there, looking out at the people passing by. It wasn't particularly exciting, but Jude enjoyed the little, simple things. When he was done he thanked the waitress and paid for his meal, then exited swiftly. The idea of a new book became more and more exciting to him, and he walked with purpose all the way there. That was the problem with Jude, he had a strong attachment to books. He loved to pretend, or believe in something that wasn't real as an escape from reality. He had spend a large portion of his life hiding, ignoring things that made him depressed or unhappy. Jude refused to let himself become broken again, so the only alternative he could find was stories, writing. They kept his mind busy, kept him distracted from the real world. He didn't want to remember.

    The bookstore was larger than he thought, but that only made his smile widen. He began to peruse the shelves, unconsciously moving to the romance section of the store. He loved romance, but sadly could never think of himself being in love. It wasn't that he didn't want it, because he most certainly did, but his mind made him think that nobody would every even look at him. So earlier when his neighbor helped him, Jude was extremely happy and nervous. It was nice to be noticed, nice to be thought of. Made him feel warm inside.
  19. Marietta

    "Are you sure you're not in need of anything else, Miss? I can carry your bags upstairs..."

    "Oh, no. I'll be fine - they're not so heavy. And the rest of my things will be arriving soon...I hope. Thank you."

    She knew how dangerous it was to allow anyone to learn where you live, especially when you a young, foreign woman alone in a new country and you don't speak the language. Marietta handed the cab driver his fee before turning to grace her eyes upon her new home. It wasn't what she expected, but the French ambiance and architecture made it priceless. She was safe, and therefore, she will be happy with whatever came her way. Besides, this Dulviar-Kiepersol Rosewood wasn't accustom to all that refine living all the time. Marrose knew how to manage with nothing but three bags of luggage, her laptop, camera, her Girl Scouts no-how...and the unlimited European credit card her Grandfather sent to her.

    "This...isn't so bad," she thought with a huff, removing her sun hat and scarf as she walked to the door. It was better than being in a college dorm, and ten-times better than having to listen to her father's attempts to sway her to bless his 'good intentions'... Good intentions, my ass! Her mind wavered as she headed to the front office to gain her key and to learn that her rent for the year was already paid by her Grandparents. Figures, they're Dulviers... She wanted her independence back, but with certain problems lingering over her, it gave them some sort of Grandparent privilege to do everything for her she wished to manage herself. It was annoying, but she's come to understand her Italian bloodline well enough to know this was their way to show her their love. At least, they don't take things overboard.

    She was kindly escorted to her apartment on the second floor, one of the few that were semi-furnished. Marietta and the Manager, a rather eccentric woman in her 50's who dressed as if she was still 22, set her heavy bags down before the door. The Manager unlocked it for her, opening it wide on squeaky hinges with a Voila! Marietta wasn't paying attention to the unveiling of her room. The creaking hinges caused her to cringed. That's the first thing I'm going to change in this place. Wonder if I have something that can help with that...

    "Voici votre chambre et votre clé. Si vous avez besoin de quoi que ce soit, veuillez communiquer avec moi, Madame Sora, je serai heureux de vous aider."

    She spoke so fast, Marietta could barely keep up with the few words she understood. Politely, she frowned with a shake of her head, "I'm sorry, I don't speak French very well... Just Italian and English."

    Mrs. Sora, with her bright face heavily covered in makeup, smiled sweetly at her, "It's fine, but learn quickly, for my English not so good." She placed the keys in her hand. "If you need... help, call downstairs. Ah, je m'appelle, Madame Sora." she patted her chest to indicate herself.

    With a relieved grin, Marietta returned her politeness, "Je m'appelle, Marietta Dulvier - Marrose, for short. It's...tre bon...di conoscerti..." She shook her head - no matter how hard she tired, she kept mixing up the two languages, creating a train wreck of words.

    The twisted statement was confusing to Mrs. Sora, but understood. She patted her on the arm, "Ah, bon, good try. Try more, you'll find it soon. Bonjour!" the older woman said as she departed. Marietta sighed as she watched the older woman walk down the hallway. She wondered exactly how old she really was - it was difficult to tell with all the makeup, cluster jewelry, and extra support in all the right places.

    Standing at her door, Marrose stared into the room at the simple floral couch and coffee table lit by the light coming from the open window. Leaving her bags at the door, she stepped into the small foyer and peeked in further, finding the living room to be larger than initially thought, a very nice size kitchen, and two rooms - just like she requested. She wanted to convert one into a poor man's dark room, if possible. "Well, this won't be so bad once my furniture arrives. I might be able to spruce the place up a bit with a few throw rugs and pictures... At least, they gave the walls a fresh coat of paint."

    Ideas of a renovation party excited her to no end. Marietta grabbed her phone and began to quickly jot down a few notes on what she'll need to pick up to turn her apartment into a glorious French flat she can enjoy living in. "Might be able to pull most of this off before my furniture arrives," she mumbled to herself. "And if mother was right about her good friends here, if I get a chance to meet them soon, they might be able to help me shop. That'll be a wonderful way to get to know them..."

    Moving about the place, Marrietta finally remembered her bags. "Oh dear! I can't believe I left them in the hall!"
    #19 Phi Chisym, Dec 30, 2014
    Last edited: Jan 20, 2015
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  20. Ryleigh was almost halfway down the stairs when a figure moving in front of her caught her eye. Having been watching the steps, she looked up to see a man who... was just about soaking wet. She slowed in her steps, offering a polite smile to this man who appeared to be having a tough morning. A large majority of herself at that moment wanted to offer him some sort of help, or at least ask if he was okay, but she couldn't get the words out. And just when she thought she could, the stranger was hurrying up the stairs. Hmm... maybe she'd see him again? Maybe he was a resident of the building, too.

    Once outside, the sun welcomed her with its signature radiant warmth and she smiled to herself before looking both directions. She had spotted a little cafe a block or two away when she was on her way to the apartment building. And it looked appealing enough for her to exercise her sense of direction, albeit it was already pretty keen. Thank God for that, right?

    It was barely a five minute walk before she was in front of the cafe. A few people were outside on the patio, which Ryleigh guessed was due to the fantastic weather. Maybe she'd hone in on their decision and do the same...

    Once inside, she had to wait for a couple of people already in line to order their food before she could order her own. Since it was Paris, she decided to live a little - ha ha - and get a green apple juice (which she had never even heard of before) and a dürüm Kurdish sandwich. Both of them looked fantastic once she received them, and she couldn't wait to eat once she was sitting outside at a small table.
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