Discussion in 'ONE ON ONES IN CHARACTER' started by The Mood is Write, Jun 10, 2016.

  1. Talking to himself had never been so animated.

    K gesticulated as his mouth moved in silence. The road was empty, and he let his mind wander back to previous conversations enough that he began to say in silence what he thought he should have said.

    "At least I'm not a dick who gets off on tormenting the mentally handicapped!" Yeah, that would have shown them. That would have been satisfying, to show them they were picking on the developmentally delayed. His artificial smugness faded as he spotted something on the road ahead, and he rapidly closed his mouth and forced a neutral expression as he tried to identify what he saw as his arms hung awkwardly at his sides.

    As he came closer, he saw it was a town, and he swallowed past his dry throat. He began to walk faster, ignoring the signs in his body that he was pushing too hard. He ignored the tingling and tight sunburn on his face, and his sandpaper-dry mouth and throat. He'd avoided the last town because he didn't have the energy for interaction, but today, right now, he wanted to beg for a bottle of water and use a real bathroom at least. Maybe eat something.

    Thoughts of sour cream and onion potato chips, of bread, and of apple juice or milk teased at his mind and pulled him along despite rapidly numbing legs.

    He passed a few suburban homes, and as the sun turned the world golden around him, he began to approach a gas station. His hand touched the door, and as a wave of relief flooded him, it pushed his needs to the fore, and in the briefest instant, he lost consciousness all at once.

  2. Long, caloused fingers pressed against the lit cigarette between his lips, plucking it from the dry, chapped flesh, the teen then exhaling a cloud of smoke in a single breath.

    He was bored, as per usual, but this time he'd decided to loiter outside a nearby gas station. For what, he couldn't have possibly been certain, but something in his gut had urged him to this spot on this day.

    Not like anyone would bother him out here, anyway. This place was usually pretty damn deserted.

    A startling, electric blue gaze lifted at some fashion disaster who came stumbling over to the door. Stormy suppressed a scoff at the kid, instead merely lifting one dark eyebrow at the other's sudden collapse.

    He stared longer than any normal person would, ash from his cigarette falling against his black pants. Hurriedly he brushed them away, then flicked the unfinished thing to the sidewalk. After assuring he'd stomped out the miniscule flame with the toe of one of his combat boots, he trudged over to the collapsed kid, hands shoved deep into his black jeans.

    At first, he wasn't sure what to make of whoever it was. Head cocking, Stormy glanced toward the gas station window. Looked as if the cashier hadn't seen anything yet, so he had some time before he was forced into interaction with someone else.

    "Hey." Stormy extended one leg, nudging whoever it was with his foot.

    "You look like shit."
    #2 Aerylei, Jun 10, 2016
    Last edited: Jun 10, 2016
  3. K's body moved freely under the stranger's foot, and his chapped lips parted. Several scabs decorated them where the skin had cracked and bled over the past few days. Dirt and a cigarette butt stuck to his cheek, and his eyes were only partly closed, staring ahead for several moments before his eyes suddenly focused.

    "Fuck." The ground was right up against him, and he could feel something of similar texture to gravel as it dug into his cheek. His voice had a feminine quality, but a male's hoarseness, and a quietness that made it hard to place. He wanted to lift himself, but he didn't want to touch more of the ground than he already had, and just lifting his head made it spin horribly.

    And then there was the crowd in front of him. How many emos? There were at least... three? Five?

    Fuck. He used an elbow to lift himself, shakily at first, until he held himself up with his arms, staring at a fresh bloody spot on the ground. His greasy hair felt wetter than usual as his arms shook, and he reached out toward the nearest thing: one of the emo's doubles, and swiped his hand uselessly through the air a few times before he turned and saw triples of his own hand. "Real one. Help up." He held out a hand, eyes focusing and unfocusing as his ears rang.
  4. Both eyebrows lifted at the- female? male? He decided on male- kid swiping at the air in his general direction.

    Well, whoever he was, he was disoriented as absolute fuck, and teeth pressed down hard against Stormy's lower lip to suppress a snort. The force of bone against the thin flesh bordered on breaking skin.

    "Here." Stormy bent, cold hand grasping the one outstretched, and hefted K to his feet, bright eyes narrowing at the kid.

    "Yo, you seem pretty fucked up. I'm gonna get you inside and get some help, 'kay?" It went against everything he stood for to be helping a random stranger, but hell if this kid didn't obviously need it.

    "Come on, Trainwreck. Still able to walk, yeah?" After waiting a moment, the teen rolled one shoulder, and instead opted to grasp K by the shoulder to begin dragging him forward, through the automatic doors of the rest stop.
  5. "Train wreck?" He slurred as he felt his shirt yank upward and his body follow until his feet hovered a moment above the ground, and then lowered down onto them before the blurry emo dragged through the sliding doors and into a wintry heaven. He groaned as his body trudged along the cool floor and chill air caressed what little skin he had visible. A quiet groan escaped him as the cool air began to work its metaphorical magic, slowly bringing K back from the brink and his eyes stopped seeing triple and double as the helpful triplicate stranger stopped dragging him. "Water?"

    Behind the counter, an indifferent clerk chewed gum and read a magazine, wireless earbuds from the Beets by Dre collection played music that could be heard faintly from even the furthest reaches of the gas station. All uncaring, he turned the page.
  6. "What else am I s'posed to call you with a get-up like that?" There was much more snark than he had initially intended in his voice, but all for the better. It wasn't like his mouth wasn't going to get him in trouble with this kid; better sooner than later.

    Dark eyebrows lifted at the question for water. Water? Oh for the love of-

    He bit back the snappy comment he almost made about Trainwreck being a thirsty fuck and instead rolled his eyes off to the side, muttered an indifferent "Sure, whatever," and shuffled his way to the back of the station, casting a brief sneer at the cashier on his way.

    Not like the dude noticed. Fucker.

    Stormy snatched up a bottle of water and gripped the too-cold plastic between already frigid hands on his way back to the stranger and incompetent clerk. He slammed it unceremoniously down onto the counter, then reached into a back pocket, scavenging up a few wrinkled ones, then threw them beside the water.

    "Here, keep the change or whatever." Before ever giving the cashier a proper chance to respond, the emo was already standing back in front of K, clutching the water and extending his arm out to the stranger, one eyebrow raised.

  7. The clerk grunted and counted out change, then left it on the counter when he saw the weird emo kid wander off. He shrugged and went back to his magazine, already bored again, and not really caring enough about the garish freaks who'd come in to bother greeting them. Not like he enjoyed this job, or like he'd get fired for not smiling at a pair of deviants.

    K reached out for the water bottle. "Thanks." He managed as he missed once before he grabbed on to the bottle. Clearly struggling still, he began to work at the cap, squinting down at it as he tried to figure out how to make his hands work properly, preferably without handing it back for this stranger to put his hands all over the open end. With a crack as the plastic gave in, he put the opening to his mouth and began to drink, forcing himself to sip at first until his thirst overcame his self control, and by the time he lowered the bottle, it had only a few drops in the bottom that refused to come out.

    "Thanks." He panted, eyes closed as his stomach churned, clearly displeased at the speed he drank.
  8. Dark eyebrows raised over vivid electric blue eyes, Stormy suppressed a snort at the kid, biting his tongue to withhold the snip about thirst. Instead he waited, and found he didn't have much time to do so, as the walking fashion disaster drained the bottle in no time.

    "Damn, kid, where's the fire?" Finally barking out a harsh laugh, the emo shoved his long fingers into his hair, ruffling the mess of spikes further.

    "Say- where'd you come from, eh? You look like ya crawled straight outta hell, no joke." He glanced over his shoulder, back at the cashier, then noticed the change sitting on the counter. With a noticeable, embarrassed flush on his cheeks, Stormy ducked his head, then shuffled back over, snatching the coins from the surface with a muttered "Thank you," then was turning back to K, the fingers of one hand disappearing into a front pocket on his skinny jeans.

    Unnerved by their continued presence- not to mention the creepy cashier- Stormy swallowed, his Adam's apple visibly bobbing.

    But he didn't have it in him to ask the kid to head back outside, back into the heat, so he kept his mouth shut, even as anxiety was creeping up his spine.
  9. K stared at Stormy as he asked about a fire, his expression devoid of understanding—or anything else, really. He simply stared as Stormy continued to talk. He watched as Stormy walked away, and then returned again, shuffling and swallowing. K didn't understand, but he did finally speak, voice hoarse and cracking.

    "No fire. Going to hell. From Bremerton." Even that much felt tiring to say. He started to look around the gas station, then found a spot of empty wall to lean against. He wanted to sit, but he didn't want to touch the floor more than he was already. He didn't want his hands on it or his rear end, or even his feet, but at least he had shoes. he tried not to imagine germs climbing up his legs and pants.

    He rubbed his legs together, and the denim scratched, oddly satisfying against the pale flesh inside the clothes.

    Finally, he asked a question of his own. "Where?" He let his eyes roam again before they landed on Stormy, staring into his eyes intensely before he forced his gaze away.
  10. The short, choppy answers from the strange kid had Stormy staring longer than he'd meant, violent blue hues watching the chapped lips move, his brain focused elsewhere. His attention snapped back up at the question. Where? Where what? What the hell was this kid asking?

    The emo worked his jaw as he thought, contemplating for a few seconds, then deciding upon an answer.

    "From Hoenn. But it doesn't matter much." He seemed all too eager to change the subject, the boy changing positions in his spot, letting most of his weight fall to his left leg. He cocked his head at K.

    "Why're you headin' t' hell? Isn't this shithole close enough?" It was a joke, of course. Or at least, kind of. Stormy had grown out of this place in the past few years, and he was more than eager to get someplace new. If hell was where this kid was headed, Stormy felt obligated to follow, though he couldn't place why.

    His anxiety temporarily forgotten, he lifted his head, a glimmer of something in his bright gaze.

    "Y'don't suppose I could tag along? This place is pretty shit, I can't imagine hell is much better."
  11. "Hoenn?" K had never heard of a town with that name before. Was it a joke? Or did this area just have weird names? He jerked away from his thoughts as the weird dark-clothed guy began to talk again, but this time he asked things too quickly for K to feel like answering everything at once. "Guess so." He murmured as he took a step backward, face down as he gripped the water bottle tightly. "Dangerous."

    "Should pack first." He wasn't sure he wanted someone tagging along, but yet he still told Stormy to pack up for the trip. "No car, so... just walking. Long distance."

    He felt lame, letting someone come along for reasons he couldn't even understand. He didn't feel emotions, so why did he want so badly for a person to join him? A person. People were hard to deal with, stupid, and stubborn!
  12. He didn't answer the kid at his question of the place he'd mentioned, figuring it best left untouched. He didn't want to dwell on it. He refused.

    Briefly, as he debated what he would need to take, he thought of his little sister Cynder, but shoved it from his mind with the ferocity of a tiger lunging after prey. No. He had no sister, as far as things were concerned. She was too good for the likes of him, anyhow.

    The emo heaved a chest-rattling sigh and let his eyes slip shut, the boy then rocking back on his heels. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

    "Don' need shit to take. Got the clothes on my back." He cracked an eye at K. "Got enough money to last us a bit, if we need to buy shit like water again." He still had that job to think of, but what the hell? He was certain he'd be fired from it within about a week from now, anyways; there was nothing stable keeping him here.

    Plus, he was always a damned sucker for a taste of adventure. Just the idea...made him crave more.

    A mischievous grin curled his chapped lips upward. "So what's the name? I can't keep callin' you Trainwreck, 'less you like that. Mine's Stormy."
  13. K stared at the stranger for a few moments. "K." He introduced, then sighed. "Should pack. End up like me." He indicated his face, then frowned. "Use your shower?"

    At least he was speaking longer sentences. He gripped the emptied water bottle again and made it crinkle loudly. His mouth still felt too dry. He swallowed, and his own saliva scratched on its way down. "Feed me?" He realized he was being demanding, but if this weirdo wanted to come with him, well, K was going to take advantage and at least rest for a few hours. He felt ready to curl up and accept the coolness of death just for relief from the heat, even in the air-conditioning. He could still feel sweat accumulating.
  14. Dark brows shot up above intense blue eyes, Stormy startled even himself with the bark of a laugh that left his chapped lips. He flashed a mischievous grin and then gave a brief shake of his head.

    "S'pose it's only fair. After all, I'm piggybackin' off of your little adventure, eh?" He wasn't sure if 'adventure' was the right word for it, but he didn't focus on it. Instead, without thinking, the emo reached out to grasp the dirty sleeve of K's shirt, to tug him back outside, back into the dreadful heat.

    It wasn't that much of a trek from the station to the small, one-story place that Stormy called home, but for someone like the weirdo behind him who had clearly been out on the road for far too long, the taller boy could only imagine how awful it must have been.

    Is that sympathy? God, that's gross. Knock it off.

    Once the duo was at the door, Stormy shoved his hand into a gold-painted mailbox off to the side of the door, fishing out a small key moments later with a victorious grin. He thought then of how Cynder would have scolded him for still keeping it there, but she wasn't here. She wouldn't realize he was gone until later that night, when there was hopefully enough space between them for her not to bother.

    The boy unlocked the door before them with a flourish, then swung it open wide, beckoning the kid he'd barely come to know inside.

    "Mi casa es su casa. Well, until we hightail it the fuck outta here." Stormy closed the door behind them once K was inside, then pointed out the kitchen.

    "Help yourself to anything in the fridge. Unless you want to shower first? Bathroom's down the hall on the right, and first door on the left."
  15. By the time they arrived, K looked ready to fall over and die. He stumbled in and let himself fall onto the floor, because it was cooler than the air, and he simply laid there in silence as he closed his eyes.

    The floor felt... nice. He missed as his new companion went on and on about things. All K heard of it was a high-pitched and emo droning.

    He couldn't tell if he was like this because of the heat or exhaustion, but he fell asleep on the floor, uncaring about filth for the first time in a long while.
  16. Stormy had entirely missed his companion's fall to the floor, the emo turning with a lifted arm, brow raised in an unspoken inquiry, but then bright eyes fell on the lump of mismatched fabric on his floor. The question of what K wanted him to pack died on his lips, and instead he moved toward the other.

    "K may be your name, but you're still a damn trainwreck," the boy muttered as he clumsily gathered the passed-out androgyne into his arms, then deposited him on the nearby couch, where the limp boy's slim build sank into the soft cushions. Stormy debated draping a blanket over him, but with a roll of his shoulders, he disappeared toward his room instead.

    While K slept, he packed quietly, shoving clean clothes into an oversized, hastily-emptied backpack. Once he was satisfied with his supply- he knew it probably wasn't enough, but he refused to take just clothes- he started raiding his kitchen, for stuff he was certain would last over long periods of time.

    Granola bars? Check. Beef jerky? Yep. Bottled water? That was probably the most important, so he made sure he packed those in.

    He wasn't completely satisfied, but with such short notice, he supposed it would do. Now, he just had to wait on K...who was still dead to the world.

    The boy sighed. Trainwreck was, indeed, a trainwreck.
  17. K rested for several hours before he pried himself from the puddle under his face and blinked blearily around as a bit of lint stuck to his cheek and his wet eye remained tightly shut. "What?" He croaked as his eye landed on Stormy. Slowly, he wiped the drool from his other eye, then squinted at Stormy.

    "Pervert?," he asked as he stared with confusion at the person he'd met only briefly, who apparently his sleep-starved mind didn't recall. "Back hurts," he huffed as he rolled over and laid back down, only to lift his head and growl at the wetness before he squished himself smaller to avoid it before he laid back down.
  18. This one...was a weird one. He only seemed to get weirder as the minutes passed between them, the longer they stayed near each other, but Stormy was in a bit too far already to even consider backing out. After all, he'd brought a complete stranger into his home and let him sleep on his damn couch.

    No one ever said Stormy had good sense.

    He chewed at the inside of his cheek, then offered the other a scoffing laugh at the question of perversion. "Sure the heat didn't fry something in there?" He tapped his own forehead and gave K a lopsided, lazy grin, before shaking his head.

    "Nah. No perverts here." That was a lie, but K didn't need to know that. He shuffled over and plunked his skinny ass down onto an unoccupied, un-drooly space of couch. "I brought you back to my house because you an' a shower, while I packed shit for a trip to...Hell." He hoped he wouldn't have to explain everything to the kid. He had to have had some memory.

    The boy's electric blue eyes rolled toward a clock mounted on the wall. A slender, skinny jean-clad leg extended to nudge a foot at K's balled-up form. "Unless ya don't have a deadline, I'd get a move on."
  19. The drool slid down and began to dampen Stormy's jeans as K tried to fall back asleep, but failed as Stormy kept talking. He glanced upward, then sighed. "No deadline." He murmured, then yawned. "Turn on shower?" He couldn't use showers himself. They required magic to turn on, and K... had none.

    "Need help with shower." K had no idea it could be misinterpreted as he rose and sighed earily as he looked around, then glanced toward Stormy. "Can do laundry?" He slid his backpack from himself and offered it to Stormy. His spare clothes were all dirty now, to the point they were stiff, but he couldn't work a washer, even when he had quarters.

    He couldn't shower on his own, wash his clothes on his own, and could only cook over a fire on his own. His life felt pathetic.
  20. The pallor of Stormy's cheeks deepened to a soft rose color at the comment about needing help with the shower. It wasn't so much the fact that the emo had any sort of was just weird.

    His mouth opened to say something on the matter, but instead it closed as K handed off his backpack. Laundry. Laundry and a shower. That couldn't be done at once, or at least wasn't the wisest.

    "Uh. Sure," he managed dumbly. He dropped the bag off near his washer and then lead the way to the bathroom, even heading inside, to stand cluelessly beside the tub with confusion marked clear across his face.

    After a long silence, the boy got the shower started, checking to make sure that it wasn't too hot, before stepping to the side. "T...there you go?" Scratching the back of his head, Stormy gave a shrug and started heading back toward the living room.

    "I'll wash your clothes once you're out. Can't be runnin' both at the same time."