R
redlemonaide
Guest
Original poster
[fieldbox="Amaranthe, #FF0080"]
The soldier took his backpack from the smiling blonde lady. "There you go, sweetie," she cooed. He nodded once in polite regard, then turned and threw it over one shoulder, wobbling off after 'daddy' Blue. The electrician was so tall and broad, he was the only one who could pull-off a parental cover, with some dated clothing, that is. Once there, Amaranthe slung the second strap over his other shoulder and leaned against the teenager like the tired boy he was, his head curled half into his own chest. His outer shoulder was used to prop Blue's arm around him in a fatherly way.
Before the bespectacled kid could say anything, the quarter-sized scrub spoke-up, knowing his earbud was already on, "It's bad enough we've arrived on the same plane and will all be heading to the same hotel. If the airport's being watched for agents, a ragtag group of misfit kids is going to look seriously suspicious, so our covers start now." He wiped his fist across his nose, eliciting a terrible sucking sound, that he used to turn off his mic, keeping the earbud on so he could listen to their commentary, obedient or complainant; it was important to know who was going to take this mission seriously and who would endanger it. He certainly didn't fall into the category of the latter, so he was prepared to work. Even as his eyelids drooped shut. Blue was a lot more comfortable than he'd given credit, and it was way past his bedtime.
His yawn was perfectly natural. Amaranthe justified that it made his persona much more authentic, gave him credibility that, if he were honest with himself, he wouldn't have under other circumstances. Being a child simply wasn't his strong point. Tomorrow would be a struggle, but there was always room for improvement, and this would measure his. He believed he could pull it off, as long as he didn't have a bunch more flight attendants telling him how "cute" they thought he was with his round cheeks and blonde hair - there was only so much attention a young boy could take, 8, 80, or otherwise! Even when he got grumpy they found him "adorable". Blegh, being a kid sucked. Why couldn't his power be something chameleon-like, or metamorphosis, to just disappear or appear older or something where he didn't have to deal with... with all the disrespect. He was a soldier, damnit. Sure, FARBE had to stay a secret, and he could live without the honor and glory or parades and statues of himself, but this. A shiver cuddled him further into Blue's side at the memory of the check-pinching.
When they got back to the hotel, the boy in the pink shirt would be asleep on his feet, barely accomplishing a zombie shuffle. If they gave him a bed of his own, shared it with him, tucked him on the couch, or let him drop to the floor, he really wouldn't have noticed or cared - kids need their sleep, man. He might wake up in a better or worse mood one way or the other, but an 8-year-old without sleep? One did not know the definition of grumpy. His eyes fluttered through dreams, sounds emitted like weak laughter, maybe whimpers, who could tell. By the time he woke up, Amaranthe couldn't. However, he always started with the usual routine: swim, shower, then breakfast. Would anyone question a child wandering the hotel by himself? Norms, probably, but the silver bracelet steadfast to wrist gave no other reason for mistrust with his team. In fact, he may have been back before any of them awoke to the smell of bacon and eggs - it was the most important meal of the day, wasn't it? Especially since he knew Yellow and Black had their work cut out for them - they had to keep up appearances all day at the restaurant as they actually kept-up menial tasks like the norms. Orange was the unfortunate one in his mind, having to sit in the back while her "cousin" checked in on her occasionally, but sitting around a bunch of other people expecting her to be the happy-go-lucky kid of her age. If anyone could pull it off, though, she would. They all needed their energy and protein to be sure this mission stayed solid for the entire day, since no one really knew what time the attack was supposed to happen.
"Morning, soldiers."
[/fieldbox]
The soldier took his backpack from the smiling blonde lady. "There you go, sweetie," she cooed. He nodded once in polite regard, then turned and threw it over one shoulder, wobbling off after 'daddy' Blue. The electrician was so tall and broad, he was the only one who could pull-off a parental cover, with some dated clothing, that is. Once there, Amaranthe slung the second strap over his other shoulder and leaned against the teenager like the tired boy he was, his head curled half into his own chest. His outer shoulder was used to prop Blue's arm around him in a fatherly way.
Before the bespectacled kid could say anything, the quarter-sized scrub spoke-up, knowing his earbud was already on, "It's bad enough we've arrived on the same plane and will all be heading to the same hotel. If the airport's being watched for agents, a ragtag group of misfit kids is going to look seriously suspicious, so our covers start now." He wiped his fist across his nose, eliciting a terrible sucking sound, that he used to turn off his mic, keeping the earbud on so he could listen to their commentary, obedient or complainant; it was important to know who was going to take this mission seriously and who would endanger it. He certainly didn't fall into the category of the latter, so he was prepared to work. Even as his eyelids drooped shut. Blue was a lot more comfortable than he'd given credit, and it was way past his bedtime.
His yawn was perfectly natural. Amaranthe justified that it made his persona much more authentic, gave him credibility that, if he were honest with himself, he wouldn't have under other circumstances. Being a child simply wasn't his strong point. Tomorrow would be a struggle, but there was always room for improvement, and this would measure his. He believed he could pull it off, as long as he didn't have a bunch more flight attendants telling him how "cute" they thought he was with his round cheeks and blonde hair - there was only so much attention a young boy could take, 8, 80, or otherwise! Even when he got grumpy they found him "adorable". Blegh, being a kid sucked. Why couldn't his power be something chameleon-like, or metamorphosis, to just disappear or appear older or something where he didn't have to deal with... with all the disrespect. He was a soldier, damnit. Sure, FARBE had to stay a secret, and he could live without the honor and glory or parades and statues of himself, but this. A shiver cuddled him further into Blue's side at the memory of the check-pinching.
When they got back to the hotel, the boy in the pink shirt would be asleep on his feet, barely accomplishing a zombie shuffle. If they gave him a bed of his own, shared it with him, tucked him on the couch, or let him drop to the floor, he really wouldn't have noticed or cared - kids need their sleep, man. He might wake up in a better or worse mood one way or the other, but an 8-year-old without sleep? One did not know the definition of grumpy. His eyes fluttered through dreams, sounds emitted like weak laughter, maybe whimpers, who could tell. By the time he woke up, Amaranthe couldn't. However, he always started with the usual routine: swim, shower, then breakfast. Would anyone question a child wandering the hotel by himself? Norms, probably, but the silver bracelet steadfast to wrist gave no other reason for mistrust with his team. In fact, he may have been back before any of them awoke to the smell of bacon and eggs - it was the most important meal of the day, wasn't it? Especially since he knew Yellow and Black had their work cut out for them - they had to keep up appearances all day at the restaurant as they actually kept-up menial tasks like the norms. Orange was the unfortunate one in his mind, having to sit in the back while her "cousin" checked in on her occasionally, but sitting around a bunch of other people expecting her to be the happy-go-lucky kid of her age. If anyone could pull it off, though, she would. They all needed their energy and protein to be sure this mission stayed solid for the entire day, since no one really knew what time the attack was supposed to happen.
"Morning, soldiers."
[/fieldbox]