The Last Turn of The Seasons

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Arcadia, Jan 5, 2015.

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  1. It was a sunny, warm-yet-cold day. The television that was being viewed flickered, as always. The signals were always suffering from interference, ever since the first solar storm swept across the globe. "-vvt..." stuttered the TV, signals taking a battering as the picture burst into life at a news channel. "Thanks Bob. That was Robert Waterman with the Sport. Now to Tina Nijinsky with the weather." The picture switched from a middle aged, blonde weather woman in a red blazer, papers in hand, to that of a 30s something woman in a sleek, tight black dress. "Thank you Barbara. Folks, today, bring both coats, umbrellas and sunscreen, as all contingencies will be welcomed. Rain and sleet will be coming in from the north east and leaving from the south and west. However, along with it, the sun will bring bouts of 30º heat."

    He turned the television off, and stood up. Bran wasn't surprised at the weather forecast. With the change in solar storm patterns, weather had become more and more erratic. They were just lucky to have avoided a natural disaster, such as a tornado or frequent forest fire. Looking around, he sighed. He really needed to fix p his house. The paint white, lackluster, was peeling. His carpets were awash with dust. With his job, he couldn't be bothered to clan it hen he came home, and hiring a maid just seemed stupid. He needed to go to MIT and check the weather patterns, so off he went, grabbing his coat on the way, a torn overcoat of nylon, and walked out of his house, the sky awash with colours of orange, blue and white. It was just another day. Another erratic day.

    @Dawn
    @Vysivaire
    @Effort
    @HellHoundWoof
    @Pretty Turtle
     
  2. Knuckles stirred from his slumber and sat up in his bed, he ran his hands through his hair. He stretched his arms and hit the wall on his left, the small room he lived in wasnt much but it kept him comfortable at night. Had adjustable heating, and cooling, and was protected from the weather. He lived with a man called Mr.Singer, in exchange for room and board Charles cleaned up the shop downstairs and served to scare off anyone who tried to rob the convenience store. He quickly put on his clothes and tossed the small apron on around his neck, the pieces of cloth meant to tie it were nowhere near long enough to wrap around his large frame. He walked downstairs and closed the cage that led from the shop to the house upstairs, he grabbed his broom from beside it and began sweeping the aisles up and down. Calmly letting his mind focus on his work, he noticed some people come and go. Some people bought things, he saw some people heading to the drink machine and had to watch them carefully. Lately allot of people just stuck their heads under it and pressed the buttons to get a drink, which was obviously stealing. He looked over the aisles at them and one of them made eye contact and warned his buddies, they quickly left the store and Charles had a small smile on his face. He liked when people were afraid of him, that meant he was big, and if he was big he could survive.
     
  3. The lights buzzed and flickered overhead as Aubrey stood in front of her closet. So many clothes... she shook her head as she began to pull a bunch of mismatched fabrics off the hangers. Her better judgement had prevented her from getting rid of most of it, as she thought she may have use for the fabric soon enough. The sight invoked sharp pangs of nostalgia though. Spending hours picking clothes, not for the necessity of having the layers, but instead the desire to look her best, dressed to the nines in any given circumstances.

    With a sigh, Aubrey shook the past out of her head and continued to disrobe hanger after hanger. After loading up on garments, the lights dimmed once again, this time staying off for several seconds before returning. This occurrence was becoming more and more frequent, and also the reason Aubrey only used her television once a day to catch the weather report. Pulling the chain, the bare overhead bulb flicked off, and Aubrey began to layer the clothing onto her body. Tank top, short sleeve shirt, long sleeve tee, sweater, jacket coat, tights, jeans skirt, and all weather boots completed her outfit. The sun shining through the window gave her just enough light to scrutinize her visage in the mirror.

    A soft mew drew her attention to the floor, and Blitz-- a tiny grey kitty, with a judgmental look in its eyes-- gazed up at her from between her feet. Aubrey knelt down and scratched the cat's ears, earning herself a soothing purr. "Don't give me that look, cat," she muttered, affection dripping off her words. Being satisfied with the attention the cat wandered off. Aubrey grabbed a large backpack off the floor next to the door and headed out.
     
  4. The day, for some, had started far sooner than others. Brio Visser was one of those few who found themselves awake at a painful five in the morning. His first task was always to jog while it was still in the "cold" phase of the day. The benefits to jogging outside instead of making use of the City Police's gym were that the weather conditions kept him tough in mind just as much as body and people tended to act more like themselves when there was no uniform around to make them nervous. Observing the early morning citizens without them knowing - well it was part of his job. He would take an hour and a half each day for this run of his, always taking the same route, always stopping at the same corner store. It was a bad habit for a cop to have, but making relations with the locals on his route had proven useful on a number of occasions.

    The bell over the door chimed as he stepped inside the store, pushing back the hood of his rain resistant pullover jacket and wiping moisture from his face with the back of a hand. "Mornin'," he called to the clerk - a stocky young man with an inarguably difficult to approach aura. But if Brio had even been uncomfortable in the presence of this man, he hadn't shown it. Then again, he never really showed any sort of emotion aside from a party-ruining grumpiness that he didn't actually possess. He just had "mean eyes" as his mother had explained it after his fourth unwanted fistfight in high school.

    A bottle of water, a fruit salad, and a bagel were the items he set on the counter top and he even attempted a smile.

    Looked more like a grimace.

    @HellHoundWoof
     
  5. Charles noticed a man walk in, the man had been by the window before and rarely stopped in the shop. Charles noticed him looking at him and saw a fire to his eyes but it didnt bother him, the man was quite smaller than he was. He set the broom aside and walked to the counter, he had to squeeze himself under the doorway and the tight little glass box hardly could keep him inside. He took the items and began scanning them, he took some time trying to find the bar codes but managed well enough in the end. He looked at the register and turned the numbers toward the man. The scanner read six fourteen and Charles decided he would go ahead and say it.

    "S...Six dollars, fourteen cents." The fourteen sounded drawn out and Charles quickly shut his mouth after saying it. He pushed the items back towards the man with his big hands and then held out his palm for the money, he didnt want to seem too impatient so he let his hand rest on the counter.

    @Dawn
     
  6. Chilly this morning....Emilio sat on the roof of the apartment building he worked for. It wasn't too windy for him to work and it was just chilly enough for him to enjoy the morning. He did have a little work space inside, but this morning he decided to be outdoors. Currently he was working on a blender, he fixed it without having to open it up but he did it anyway just to make sure. Turned out the problem was just some dust and juice in near the motor, all it needed was to be cleaned out.

    After putting the blender back together he put some of the other smaller appliances in his work bag and collected his tools. Emilio went back inside, making his way to various apartments, giving people back their assorted electronics and devices. Most of the exchanges were quite brief. He'd return the item to it's owner, he'd try to smile at them, they'd smile nervously and quickly shut the door. There was a girl though where the exchanges were slightly longer.

    She opened the door with a welcoming smile, he smiled back a little and handed her the blender. She never seemed unnerved by him like everyone else was. He didn't realize he was staring at her during his thinking until she turned away, her face seemed a bit red. "So" she said before he could leave "what was wrong with it?" This girl had given him about two appliances almost every week that shared the same defect "It was dirty". He was starting to think she was just trying to give him a hard time.

    Turning away he adjusted the strap on his bag and started toward the stairs. "Um!". Pause. Emilio looked around at the girl "Just a sec" she said and hustled into her apartment. There was some scuffling and then she came back out with another machine. It was an old Game Boy Color. "It stopped working. When I turn it on the screen doesn't come on...". This might actually be something wrong with the device this time, he accepted the device and tucked it into his work bag. The girl smiled at him, the corners of his mouth twitched into an almost smile. She gave him a little wave and Emilio returned the gesture, turning away and talking toward the stairs.

    Jokes on her, he liked tinkering with devices.
     
  7. Bran had decided he needed a coffee and some mints to go with the morning rush, so headed into a shop a few blocks away to do so. He smiled, gazing around at the place, a uniform, white stucco building with shelves going on for a while. Walking past isles filled to the brim with "necessities", Bran departed toward the corner store's delicatessen, in the hope of maybe retrieving coffee, a snack and then his mints when unfortunately, he was in a less obsequious state of mind and improved the smell and taste of his breath. So was the morning routine, when blissful ignorance led to social loss. heading toward the counter, he saw a large man, similar to that of a bouncer at a night club, and gave a courteous smile. "Two shot latté please, with a pain au chocolat, if you may. I'll grab some mints as well." Bran stated matter-of-factly as he grabbed for a random brand of mint gum.

    "The weather's getting more and more bizarre each day, hmm?" He asked of the man, simply because it was in passing with every stranger in the bustling metropolis they all called home. The weather had gotten worse. It was going to. And so to, the spectacle of it, too, would increase.
     
  8. Charles looked at a man behind the man currently in line. He was browsing the aisles, Charles had to keep a good eye on the guy so he didnt steal anything. He looked at the man in front of him, the unpleasantly grumpy man. The new man walked up towards the counter and ordered something, as if this were a restaurant. Charles didnt know most of what the guy was saying but caught the words coffee and chocolate. The man spoke strangely, like he was raised in high bearings.

    "Choc...colate aisle, three." He said proud of himself for managing to get the words out, "Coffee by fountain."

    He said pointing to the corner of the store. Then he remembered something else.

    "Line is important," Charles said nodding to the man in front of him who had not yet paid.
     
  9. "Thank you kind gent." Bran exclaimed sarcastically. "I shall now depart so that I may continue my arduous journey to the coffee machine." Bran exclaimed as he walked off, tutting to himself. He was sure the man would know how to work a pastry delicatessen and get him his pain au chocolat. But it was mainly early morning aggression that was catching him by the coattails. He needed that coffee to awaken and brighten up. No coffee meant angry Bran, and angry Bran would mean unproductive Bran. As was the way of the scientist. Walking past aisles of various items, soaps, utensils, toys, o all sorts, he arrived at what the man said was the "fountain." Seeing the coffee machine, he decided to input his order of a double caffeine shot coffee with one sugar. Bran always had some description of a sweet tooth. As the coffee machine gurgled into life, he decided he would ponder his own existentialism in order to relieve the boredom that always arose with waiting. He was doing well for himself he thought. Although he desperately needed to get to his place of work and find out if the weather patterns were on another shift. He would need to warn people if it came to that. As the coffee spat itself into his cup, he took a lid for the small cups, price tag already embedded on the heat-resistant plastic, and headed to the stocky man again. "I'm here to pay for my coffee. Where are the pastries?"
     
  10. Charles watched that strange man, he still spoke funny. It annoyed Charles a bit but he didnt say anything about it. The guy got his coffee and made his way back to the counter, the other man had already paid and left to continue his route.

    "Pastries and sweet stuffs are aisle 5," Charles said pointing his long arm towards a section of aisle 5.

    The man was in the wrong place, he really thought this was some kind of expensive coffee shop. The convenience store wasnt even in that good of quality, it looked like it had been involved in a hit and run. But still it persisted, the shelves still stood, the fridges still stocked, and the candies still sugar filled.
     
  11. He'd spent probably too much time trying to remember where he'd put his ten, but when he finally fished the bill out of the pocket of his pullover, he made quick work of paying and getting out of the way. A forced grimace-smile was what the other customer received and Brio was still trying to think of something to reply back with when the guy walked away again to go get coffee or something.

    Welp. Let's call that attempt at being social a fail.

    "Bye," he muttered at the store clerk, gathering up his purchase into his pockets and turning tail on the whole uncomfortable situation. He found a bench outside, just a few feet down the sidewalk in fact, and took a seat to eat his breakfast. While he ate, he checked his phone messages and openly frowned at the newest one.

    A passerby gave a wide berth with nervous glances but Brio just took another bite of his bagel and glared at his phone screen. He really hated parties. Wonder if I can fake illness. He'd rather lounge in his underpants on his couch for a night, watching nature documentaries instead of going to a party.
     
  12. After gathering his food and drink items and paying the stocky man money for his services, Ban departed from the store with a grumpy expression plastered across his face. He wasn't odd, was he? He didn't think he was. Still didn't excuse the odd looks the man was giving him, or at least he though the man might have been. Now he had to head to MIT as quickly as possibly, so he could check the readings in the Weather Observatory. Fun day. Walking past the hulking figures of modern skyscraper, devoid of any beauty and solely focused on business, he departed toward MIT, whistling a tune from memory, the song a faded smudge on his memory. He passed by a stream of civilians, coagulating into a single sludge of passer-by's, passing by and coming toward him. The sky was an artists canvas; blue, orange, red and pink splattered like a Pollock enthusiast about the skyline. The global change in weather created these astoundingly bizarre masterpieces, so much so that people often began to stare at the clouds, or took photos of them, as if this oddity would leave at next glance. It never did.

    Passing by the monotonous cobbled roads, he came to the point of passage, the Charon to his Styx, the bridge to MIT. Checking his watch, he stood, sipping his coffee, still having a period of ten minutes at least to get to MIT and check the weather patterns before getting on with typical workplace political nonsense. Biting into his pain au chocolat, he smiled. Nothing was better than coffee and pastries in the morning.
     
  13. The all too familiar sound of the bike chain gliding smoothly around the sprocket of her cruiser was oddly hypnotic. Aubrey pedaled, her mind neither here nor there, through the ever crowded streets. Pedestrians littered the sidewalks so thick that a few even strayed into the bike lanes. A few times she found herself so lost in thought that she almost smashed into them. With a growl of determination, Aubrey changed tactics and moved further into the streets, where people were less likely to venture. She was close enough to MIT-- where she had been attending classes as a professional and perpetual student for the last several years-- that it didn't really matter where she rode.

    Her mind wandered again, this time because of the small wave of heat that washed over her, as she turned onto the bridge separating MIT from the rest of the city. The thought of pulling over to strip a layer of clothing off seemed a bit ridiculous, and somewhat preemptive at this point. She was almost at her destination, after all, and the wave could be a short one, and switch back to cool before she even managed to finish removing the layer. Aubrey had become practical, and the speed she was going on the bike still granted her a slight breeze across her skin.

    Something flashed in her vision, forcing her attention back to the path in front of her. A person meandered across the bridge. A pastry in one hand, and a coffee in the other; clearly headed the same way; as he was walking directly in his path. She was going too fast and he was too close for her to stop. "Watch out!" Aubrey cried as she tried to pull the bike to the side to avoid hitting him.

    The bicycle wobbled with the sudden change of direction, and she skidded off sideways, unsure about whether or not she had managed to avoid a collision. Tossing the bike to the ground, Aubrey hopped up, and rushed over to the man, to make sure. "Oh, goodness! I'm so sorry. Are you okay?!"
     
  14. The breeze. A familiar sound to add to a clearly obsequious day in the climate that was anything but. Pedestrians passed by him, gazing at him as he munched on his food and drank his coffee with a wide eyed suspicion akin to that of typical buskers. Yet he was not settling in for a musical debut. Oh no. He was taking a break so a to gather his wits for another day of weather research and fruitless results. He gazed up at the Pollock-similar sky, trying to attain the muse to not procrastinate the day away. Bran smiled. Although the weather was something out of a child's painting book, he couldn't help but admire the fact it had some form of ethereal essence to it, definitive, almost.

    Now he had to continue his journey, ready to spend his day monitoring global weather patterns telling his assistant to get him coffee, water, papers, more coffee, less water. He had him stressed out with all the orders. But he needed to be filled with fluids. Kept hydrated so as full concentration could be granted to his important work. He could hear a bicycle rattling by in the distance and thought nothing of it. Not as if he was gong to rob the patron of their bicycle and ride on to MIT. He'd never be so uncouth. Would he? No. He dismissed the though almost immediately as the bike could be heard rattling within his close proximity, then...

    "Jesus!" He cried out as the girl and the bike clattered into him in a heap. "Aubrey...what...why?" Bran sputtered out as the girl and he stood up in unison. "Watch where you're going, Aubrey." Bran snapped a little, before softening. "You heading in the direction of MIT? I don't suppose we can walk together, chew the fat?"
     
  15. Satisfied that she hadn't harmed him, Aubrey breathed a sigh of relief. One more time, her gaze swept across Bran looking for any sign of injury. "Chew the fat, Bran? Really? Isn't that turn of phrase a bit dated?" As she spoke she removed the outermost layer of clothes and folded them before stuffing them in her bag. Smoothing her hair, she sighed once more pulling the bike off the ground. She grinned at Bran and motioned down the path. "The company would be appreciated regardless of the antiquated colloquialisms."

    As they began walking, Aubrey fidgeted with her bag, trying to set it comfortably on the remaining layers of her clothes, but failing. "You're a meteorologist... I was wondering if you had the space for a student assistant." The request felt strange to her, especially since she was further on in years than he. This was definitely one of those times she regretted not committing to a degree plan. Still, she wanted to help, and it was pure luck that she had managed to almost run directly into one of the few people with the ability to allow her to do so.
     
  16. Smiling at her relief, he let out his own sigh of relief and then grinned more. "It might be dated, Aubrey, but it's still fairly applicable today in our circumstances." Bran exclaimed as he tore of a section of his pain au chocolat for the woman. "I suppose the fright might have made you hungry?" Bran exclaimed before she moved onto her important topic of conversation. His assistant? He definitely needed the help, but if someone was working with him and they weren't 100 percent dedicated, he would most likely throw her out. "Do I have to display a degree of obsequiousness toward the onward modernising march of colloquial development? Sticking to the classics is still beneficial to our society. How else will the kids know what came before their 'lols' and 'first world problems'?" Bran spoke, finishing his tirade as he finally decided on an option for Aubrey's answer. "I'll let you be my assistant. But you do as I say, when I say it. No excuses. You can give me your input, but don't get in my way." Bran exclaimed, his face now full of a dark seriousness.
     
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