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- dead anime dad 11 yrs ago
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cats are smart enough to sin.
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Bio
i've been rping online for as long as i can remember. used to do it on gaia; don't so much anymore. feel free to call me pan, or regret, or reg, or isaac, or dad, or literally anything as long as i know you're talking to me.
i'm a big fan of monsters. a big fan of urban fantasy. a big fan of queer shit. a big fan of the fuck word-- which bears warning people about, i've been told. let me just apologize for that in advance. i vastly prefer quality over quantity-- so you'll probably see a lot of me in the casual & free forums? threads? whatever they're called.
if you wanna send me a pm for whatever reason go right for it. imagine a witty riff on the not biting cliche here, thank u.
i'm a big fan of monsters. a big fan of urban fantasy. a big fan of queer shit. a big fan of the fuck word-- which bears warning people about, i've been told. let me just apologize for that in advance. i vastly prefer quality over quantity-- so you'll probably see a lot of me in the casual & free forums? threads? whatever they're called.
if you wanna send me a pm for whatever reason go right for it. imagine a witty riff on the not biting cliche here, thank u.
Most Recent Posts
pcs.
active
(Gryffindor) Hero Hallcrest-Wyrm ✫ dead anime dad
(Ravenclaw) Andrew Worth ✫ dead anime dad
(Ravenclaw) Kina Listig ✫ Mivuli
(Hufflepuff) Isabella Williams ✫ WhiteStar19
(Ravenclaw) Morgan Pryde ✫ McHaggis
(Slytherin) Rory Fisher ✫ Sparkwell
(Hufflepuff) Iorweth Caradog ✫ DeadBeatWalking
(Slytherin) "Minnie" Dejardin ✫ dead anime mom
(Ravenclaw) "Nia" Vaswani ✫ howlingvoid
(Hufflepuff) Ishwarya Singh ✫ Strawberry425
(Gryffindor) Hero Hallcrest-Wyrm ✫ dead anime dad
(Ravenclaw) Andrew Worth ✫ dead anime dad
(Ravenclaw) Kina Listig ✫ Mivuli
(Hufflepuff) Isabella Williams ✫ WhiteStar19
(Ravenclaw) Morgan Pryde ✫ McHaggis
(Slytherin) Rory Fisher ✫ Sparkwell
(Hufflepuff) Iorweth Caradog ✫ DeadBeatWalking
(Slytherin) "Minnie" Dejardin ✫ dead anime mom
(Ravenclaw) "Nia" Vaswani ✫ howlingvoid
(Hufflepuff) Ishwarya Singh ✫ Strawberry425
inactive
npcs.
synopsis.
On September 1st, 2017, Hogwarts once again opens its doors. This time however, there are no scaffolds branching crumbling spires. No leaning columns propped up by magic.
For the fist time in almost two decades, as the Hogwarts Express pulls into the station and throngs of aspiring wixen funnel into the waiting boats, Hogwarts Castle stands quietly on the other side of the lake.
The newly erected Quidditch pitch hidden from sight by the glowing Great Hall: 2017 marks the official end of reconstruction and renovation following the battle of Howgarts, and too as stated by the newly instated Headmistress, Kallistos Ourania, the beginning of a new generation's education. A generation already once removed from the War.
It's in the midst of this "brave new year" that a group of first years form a "study group," and fall face-first into mischief – as is all but customary of Hogwarts students.
For the fist time in almost two decades, as the Hogwarts Express pulls into the station and throngs of aspiring wixen funnel into the waiting boats, Hogwarts Castle stands quietly on the other side of the lake.
The newly erected Quidditch pitch hidden from sight by the glowing Great Hall: 2017 marks the official end of reconstruction and renovation following the battle of Howgarts, and too as stated by the newly instated Headmistress, Kallistos Ourania, the beginning of a new generation's education. A generation already once removed from the War.
It's in the midst of this "brave new year" that a group of first years form a "study group," and fall face-first into mischief – as is all but customary of Hogwarts students.
setting & universe info.
So beside the obvious, we're a HP RP set 30 seconds in the future, thing? There are a few things to know about the universe as it stands.
Neville Longbottom is now a professor. He teaches Herbology in the wake of Professor Sprout's retirement. Sprout's retirement also left a gap where Hufflepuff's head of house used to exist; Rubeus Hagrid, Professor of Care of Magical Creatures, volunteered to head the house he'd only recently graduated from. These days, you'll be hard pressed to catch him without some Hufflepuff or another stepping into his hut for tea during your visit.
Kallistos Ourania spent both 2013 and 2014 either on or about the castle grounds, teaching Astronomy alongside Professor Sinistra, and serving as Minerva McGonagall's Deputy Headmistress. After McGonagall's retirement, Ourania championed the role of Headmistress.
Despite being at Hogwarts for half a decade, the student body knows very little about her, save that she's... interesting to look at. Some of the older students have taken to whispering about her having worked as an Unspeakable, or as a novelist, or as a zookeeper in Taiwan.
While we aren't 100% dedicated to sticking with the novels, Vampire Potter isn't going to show up, and we sure as heck aren't gonna see him masticate. Enoby is a lovely girl, but she can't stay here. The emphasis isn't on being true to what the books say, but to the feeling of the universe. The wonder of it all, or whatever.
So said, the houses you know & love aren't entirely different. General house overviews, usual traits, & introductions are under the cut.
Neville Longbottom is now a professor. He teaches Herbology in the wake of Professor Sprout's retirement. Sprout's retirement also left a gap where Hufflepuff's head of house used to exist; Rubeus Hagrid, Professor of Care of Magical Creatures, volunteered to head the house he'd only recently graduated from. These days, you'll be hard pressed to catch him without some Hufflepuff or another stepping into his hut for tea during your visit.
Kallistos Ourania spent both 2013 and 2014 either on or about the castle grounds, teaching Astronomy alongside Professor Sinistra, and serving as Minerva McGonagall's Deputy Headmistress. After McGonagall's retirement, Ourania championed the role of Headmistress.
Despite being at Hogwarts for half a decade, the student body knows very little about her, save that she's... interesting to look at. Some of the older students have taken to whispering about her having worked as an Unspeakable, or as a novelist, or as a zookeeper in Taiwan.
While we aren't 100% dedicated to sticking with the novels, Vampire Potter isn't going to show up, and we sure as heck aren't gonna see him masticate. Enoby is a lovely girl, but she can't stay here. The emphasis isn't on being true to what the books say, but to the feeling of the universe. The wonder of it all, or whatever.
So said, the houses you know & love aren't entirely different. General house overviews, usual traits, & introductions are under the cut.
GRYFFINDOR
HUFFLEPUFF
RAVENCLAW
SLYTHERINrules.
1. Don't be a dick.
2. Post at least once a week, per character
3. Don't post your character sheets in the character section until they've been mod-approved.
4. Your character can die; be careful.
5. Don't be a dick.
6. Double or more-ing is allowed; mind rule #2.
7. Don't be a dick.
If you have any questions, shoot one of the GMs a PM. The GMs are:
@DeadbeatWalking @dead anime dad & @dead anime mom.
2. Post at least once a week, per character
3. Don't post your character sheets in the character section until they've been mod-approved.
4. Your character can die; be careful.
5. Don't be a dick.
6. Double or more-ing is allowed; mind rule #2.
7. Don't be a dick.
If you have any questions, shoot one of the GMs a PM. The GMs are:
@DeadbeatWalking @dead anime dad & @dead anime mom.
character & npc creation.
Here's the good stuff. We'll be starting around the sorting ceremony, so remember: first years.
You might notice there's no house section up there. The mods will sort your character. If there's a piece of information you think would drastically effect your character's sorting, but don't want to give away a twist, PM @DeadbeatWalking, @dead anime dad, or @dead anime mom. We promise not to tell.
character skeleton
[center][img]optional image (real person face claim only; teenagers preferred)[/img][sup][h1][sub][i]oc "name" here[/i][/sub][/h1][/sup][/center]
[indent][sup][sup][h2][i][b][color=CHARACOLOR]blood status[/color][/b]:[/i][/h2][/sup][/sup][indent][indent]Pureblood, Halfblood, or Muggle-Born. [/indent][/indent]
[sup][sup][h2][i][b][color=CHARACOLOR]age[/color][/b]:[/i][/h2][/sup][/sup][indent][indent]11-12.[/indent][/indent]
[sup][sup][h2][i][b][color=CHARACOLOR]gender[/color][/b]:[/i][/h2][/sup][/sup][indent][indent]Identity, not bits.[/indent][/indent]
[sup][sup][h2][i][b][color=CHARACOLOR]personality[/color][/b]:[/i][/h2][/sup][/sup][indent][indent]Think of this as a place to put whatever's informed your character's personality, rather than just a place to list traits.[/indent][/indent]
[sup][sup][h2][i][b][color=CHARACOLOR]appearance[/color][/b]:[/i][/h2][/sup][/sup][indent][indent]Although the picture is optional, this isn't.[/indent][/indent]
[sup][sup][h2][i][b][color=CHARACOLOR]wand material[/color][/b]:[/i][/h2][/sup][/sup][indent][indent]Wood, Core, Length, Flexability.[/indent][/indent]
[sup][sup][h2][i][b][color=CHARACOLOR]boggart[/color][/b]:[/i][/h2][/sup][/sup][indent][indent]Your character's worst fear./indent][/indent]
[sup][sup][h2][i][b][color=CHARACOLOR]other[/color][/b]:[/i][/h2][/sup][/sup][indent][indent]Anything else[/indent][/indent][/indent]
You might notice there's no house section up there. The mods will sort your character. If there's a piece of information you think would drastically effect your character's sorting, but don't want to give away a twist, PM @DeadbeatWalking, @dead anime dad, or @dead anime mom. We promise not to tell.
NPC skeletons
STUDENT SKELETON
>
[h1][sub][sub][sup][color=NPC color]Name [b][color=white] ✫ [/color][/b] Age [b][color=white] ✫ [/color][/b] School-Year [b][color=white] ✫ [/color][/b] [color=House color]House[/color] [b][color=white] ✫ [/color][/b] Blood-Status [b][color=white] ✫ [/color][/b] Traits [b][color=white] ✫ [/color][/b] #hex [/color][/sup][/sub][/sub][/h1][indent][indent][indent]Brief character shit here, if so desired.
[/indent][/indent][/indent]
PROFESSOR SKELETON
>
[h1][sub][sub][sup][color=NPC color]Name [b][color=white] ✫ [/color][/b] Age [b][color=white] ✫ [/color][/b] Subject Taught [b][color=white] ✫ [/color][/b] [color=House color]House[/color] [b][color=white] ✫ [/color][/b] Blood-Status [b][color=white] ✫ [/color][/b] Traits [b][color=white] ✫ [/color][/b] #hex [/color][/sup][/sub][/sub][/h1][indent][indent][indent]Brief character shit here, if so desired.
[/indent][/indent][/indent]
progress IS slowly but surely being made! for example, our banner:
pretty swaggie, if i do say so myself.
but in all seriousness: i've got a date for ya'll!
we'll be ready & open by 9/9 (tomorrow) or 9/10 (thursday). so keep your eyes peeled. :)
pretty swaggie, if i do say so myself.
but in all seriousness: i've got a date for ya'll!
we'll be ready & open by 9/9 (tomorrow) or 9/10 (thursday). so keep your eyes peeled. :)
IF I CAN'T RIP AN ELEVEN YEAR OLD APART EMOTIONALLY WHAT THE FUCK AM I EVEN HERE FOR?? which is to say: i'm in agreement with the majority abt starting as a wee thing, and pulling ourselves & them thru 7 years at the school.
re: multicolored text-- I desperately need it. not bright, or anything-- but definitely colored. it helps me sort what my character can hear and know, as well as actually??? keeping the post straight in my head.
otherwise???? i'm down for everyone being from the same house. i'm imagining an army of slytherin children, advancing down the halls-- putting house stereotypes to shame, or whatever.
&! i'd be interested in talking about being a professor, but i probably fire off a pm about that, @DeadBeatWalking.
re: multicolored text-- I desperately need it. not bright, or anything-- but definitely colored. it helps me sort what my character can hear and know, as well as actually??? keeping the post straight in my head.
otherwise???? i'm down for everyone being from the same house. i'm imagining an army of slytherin children, advancing down the halls-- putting house stereotypes to shame, or whatever.
&! i'd be interested in talking about being a professor, but i probably fire off a pm about that, @DeadBeatWalking.
Maybe a giant monster or something.i'll have to check my mom's schedule but she should be available.
nah but on a more serious note, i like the sound of that, with the larger group's professors having subplots that are separated from the mail group. all kinds of fun little web weaving behind the scenes to be done, there. assuming we have enough people.. there's a point in not wanting to get too caught up in our own webs.
hp rp: arc 2. simba's pride.
darker and edgier!
not sure what i'm trying to accomplish here. the joke was half baked. just kind of imagine me chanting "dark turn, dark turn, dark turn"??
dude is there even a question? count me in. it's nice to see a hp-style rp where the emphasis isn't on perfectly understanding the books. i'm in love with the idea of the universe, and it's nuances & shit? but, eh. i just haven't ever really particularly been interested in the books. i think it's like a foreign language???? you've gotta start that shit young for it to really hit home.
im up for subplotting with professors. gotta have dark, twisty shit going on behind the scenes-- gotta have obstacles for our Ragtag Band of Children to face, right? What better way to make those than by taking sorts they're supposed to trust with the educations that'll shape the rest of their lives, and totally corrupting it? none. not that i can think of so generally, anyway.
i LOVE kids who start out bright & chipper & wind up hollowed, vacant-eyed warriors. maybe come up with some smaller threat to begin with, like some magical community burning down, but in the background have magic going wonky, or have some Dark Force(tm) starting to make waves-- that'd be the bigger, world-ending-y kind of thing. visible, but only in glances. only thru a vale, or some shit.
i'm stoked btw. v vv v v v v v vvvvv v vv stoked.
im up for subplotting with professors. gotta have dark, twisty shit going on behind the scenes-- gotta have obstacles for our Ragtag Band of Children to face, right? What better way to make those than by taking sorts they're supposed to trust with the educations that'll shape the rest of their lives, and totally corrupting it? none. not that i can think of so generally, anyway.
i LOVE kids who start out bright & chipper & wind up hollowed, vacant-eyed warriors. maybe come up with some smaller threat to begin with, like some magical community burning down, but in the background have magic going wonky, or have some Dark Force(tm) starting to make waves-- that'd be the bigger, world-ending-y kind of thing. visible, but only in glances. only thru a vale, or some shit.
i'm stoked btw. v vv v v v v v vvvvv v vv stoked.
"So, you don't think the bandanna was overkill?"
"We're two teenagers going to our... friend's apartment," Kimmy sighed. Gili flounced up the stairs behind the mechanic. They stuffed their hands in the pockets of their over-sized blue varsity jacket as they breached the second floor landing.
Kimmy glanced back over her shoulder in time to see Gili quirk a brow at her. "What?"
"I didn't say a thing."
Kimmy rolled her eyes. She folded her arms, looking back at the open-air hallway. "We are not robbing a bank."
"But," Gili implored, gesturing at the paint-stained neon green bandanna tied around their neck, "is it overkill?"
"Yes." Gili puffed out their cheeks, indignant. Kimmy ignored them."The apartment number is 269. Do you..." the mechanic trailed off, tilting her head. "Why are you laughing?"
"I--" Gili swallowed down a giggle behind their sleeve. They swiped their hand over their forehead, brushing back the stray pink hairs that'd wrestled their way free of their ponytail. Took a deep breath, steadying their voice. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Bee." They pointed at a door on the left of the hall. "Anyway? I think our destination lies beyond that door."
The door Gili had pointed to was plain, save for a brown welcome mat. As Kimmy stepped closer to examine the stoop, she caught an unmistakable sparkling. The smattering of luster divulging the presence of her long-standing nemesis: glitter glue. The mat read: Go away.
"This is it." Kimmy sounded drained, as if the single flight of stairs had already exhausted both her and her patience. "269."
Behind her, Gili snorted. Kimmy shot them a glare from the corner of her eye. Gili rose their hands under her gaze-- mimed zipping their lips and tossing the key behind their back.
"I already told you, I don't want any girlscout cookies. Fuck off!" Keira yelled from her couch. Netflix had been consuming her attention for most of the night since arriving home. She had... needed to distract herself from things and allow herself to live in her own little fantasy world that was 'The Flash'. But as the night progressed into morning she changed over to the basic channels her shitty cable box provided in between short conversations with her alien room-mate or whatever the alien equivalent was. Something something news. Something something about fundraising. Something something about small she-demons going door to door asking for money and giving out addictive cookies in trade.
Keira had, at one time, been kicked out of girl scouts. She had hated them ever since.
"Who doesn't like thin mints?" The voice behind door sounded wounded. Then grunted, as if that were actually the case. There was a huffing sound, the ruffling of fabric. Someone-- a second voice-- cleared their throat.
"Crowell, it's..." the second voice paused. Eventually settled on: "Us."
"Oh! Uh, yeah, come in."
The two of them walked into Keira's apartment, shivering off the last bit of the morning chill. Glad we could all make it. First order of business, we should dec--"
What do you mean all, where's Clay?
He'll be here in a few. We should start early."
"You can't know when he'll be here."
"Then you'll have to summarize our meeting for him when he decides to show up," Josh shrugged. "I'm sure I don't have to explain the situation to you. We don't have an overabundance of time, Ms. Kim."
Kimmy looked at him, her head tilted slightly and squinting. Almost as if Josh talking back confused her, like it wasn't within the realm of possibility. Her furrowed brow and clenched jaw meant that this expression wasn't solely surprise.
"Our first order of business is deciding where to put the cube. What'd you call it again?" He asked, turning to Naliele.
<It is the Escafil Device,> the alien said. She would have sounded bored, if not for the irritation. <I shall keep it.> Naliele added, a slight bite to her words.<I am the only one who has any right to its possession.>
"See, all this time I thought Escafil was a place in France." Zasha pondered, putting a hand to his chin.
<Are many humans this insufferable,> she inquired, <or is this one merely defective? >
Kimmy snorted; she quickly swallowed the sound. "Most are, sure," the mechanic breezed, leaning against the back of Keria's couch, "but Vasiliev is... special."
"Awww, that's sweet." Zasha cooed, as if receiving a compliment.
She took a moment, performing the mental equivalent of clearing her throat- which sounded like the sound of the letter 'N' through an air duct- before continuing.
<The Escafil device,> she repeated, emphasizing the words rather forcefully, a half-conjured image appearing to get the point across, <is perhaps the most powerful piece of technology that has ever been invented. There is no greater power in the known galaxy. However, it is imperative that you do not remain in morph for a period exceeding two of your earth "hours". To do so would render you a nothlit.>
"We can't lift?"
The Andalite's thick tail swiftly raised, knocking the bone like blade's dull base (relatively) lightly against Zasha's forehead. Zasha blinked a few times, but seemed otherwise undeterred.
<A nothlit,> corrected the warrior, shifting her head in a similar posture to one raising their finger in correction following her restrained Torf.<You would be stuck in your morphed state forever, and the power would leave you. Such is the way of the Escafil device. To morph is a great privilege. A... responsibility.> The irritation on the Andalite's face fell; something quiet, almost grim taking it's place, her tone was almost hollow. <It is... It is beyond me, why War Prince Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul trusted you with it.>
She straightened. <But it is not my duty to understand the reasons behind his orders. Only to uphold them.> There was a silence from the alien's mind, what must have been the thought-version of clearing a throat. <The Device.>
Silence. Naliele tilted her head. <The Escafil Device,> she repeated.
"Who had it last?" Kimmy asked. The group stayed quiet.
"Uh, hi," Gili offered the group a tiny wave. "My name's Gili. Thanks for having me. Great, uh, apartment. Digging the glitter paint. Very chique." They swallowed.
"Thank you!" Keira smiled at the compliment, apparently aglow at the prospect of decorative vindication. She titled her head at the quasi-stranger in her living room. "He?"
Gili shook their head. "They."
"They get my genius."
Gili snorted. Relaxed into the soles of their Converse, the ones that were red, underneath all the paint. "How could I not? I... uh... what if this Escalator--"
Naliele shot the shorter human the most powerful deathglare that could be mustered in her four yellow eyes.
"...What if this device." Gili could have sworn they saw the alien's eye twitch. "What if it's... yanno?" Gili dropped their voice, leaned forward, conspiratorially. "What if it's lost?"
<That is impossible. Firstly: The safety of that device is paramount. Should it fall into the hands of the Yeerk Empire, the entire galaxy would be unable to withstand the repercussions. Secondly, I have taken the liberty of--> the alien's thoughts were abruptly cut off by the rest of the room.
In the chaotic uproar of the group arguing over who took the device, the front door quietly opened, with a very confused young Finnegan walking into the apartment in silence.
He looked over to the group of teens shouting around the couch, and squinted harder than he already was. Maybe I should grab some snackage before I jump in.
"I swear, the last person I saw it with was Kimmy!"
"And I handed it to Gili to tie my shoe, I already sayed that"!
"Oh, here we go again with the shoe story!"
"You saw me!"
Clay took off his dull olive-green trenchcoat, and hung it on a coat hook, brushing a few bits of ash off of his white t-shirt. He sniffed the front of his shirt for a moment, He carried a black bookbag, slung over his shoulder, and wore the same jeans and shirt from the night before. His eyes were pink and tired, and there was a fluidity in his motions that were rarely seen in the boy.
"I gave it to Babe Ruth over here after you!"
"Babe Ruth was a baseball player! I play football! It was Zasha you gave it to, anyway!"
"Zasha gave it to me, and I gave it to Naleel, and she gave it t-"
<My name is Naliele-Antrothir-Entuinal, human. I am a Warrior. It would behoove you to remember that. And I did not give it to any one of you. I intended to keep it in my possession indefinitely. It must have been taken. I am not yet accustomed to your earth nights, nor your undexterous, forceful human-arms.>
"I've heard cooler names, I gotta say."
"I gave it to Naleel" Kimmy huffed, shoulders squared, eyes pinned on the alien. Four yellow eyes shot back a similar glare, "and she gave--"
"Mmm. Peaches." Clay had opened up a yogurt container in Keira's refrigerator, and began spooning bits out with two of his fingers. The kitchen, as small as it was, was on the opposite end of the apartment, away from the chaos of the arguing. For Clay, this was probably better.
"Why's that cinderblock named The Truth?"
"5th grade science fair project."
"We're getting off topic!"
"We're getting off topic!"
"Why's there so much yogurt in here?" Clay's voice rose above the din.
Kimmy threw her head back and hissed something in Korean before falling back onto Keira's couch. Clay plucked a yogurt container from the fridge and held it above his head, as if to emphasize the question. Silence stretched before the group, who each stared at him before looking back to each other, each more confused than the last. It was Keira who finally spoke up.
"I don't come into your house when you're harboring an illegal alien, and start questioning your shit!
"How much do you poop?!" Clay exclaimed, rifling through her refrigerator. "Everything you eat is, like, milk-based or soda!"
"Hard and fast enough to reach terminal velocity in 1.3 seconds!"
"Clay, how freaking long were you just standing there?"
Clay shrugged. "I got distracted."
"Okay, someone needs to enlighten everyone else as to where the weird glowing alien cube got to!" The thought of it having been left somewhere made the pink-haired teen nauseous.
<Escafil. Device,> the alien corrected tiredly.
"Oh! My bag. Hold on." Clay wiped his yogurt-covered hand off on a nearby shirt hanging off a chair, and reached into his bag. He pulled out the glowing cube, and walked over to the group. "Tada!" He gently placed it on the table, before sitting down on the couch as if he were in slow motion.
"We're two teenagers going to our... friend's apartment," Kimmy sighed. Gili flounced up the stairs behind the mechanic. They stuffed their hands in the pockets of their over-sized blue varsity jacket as they breached the second floor landing.
Kimmy glanced back over her shoulder in time to see Gili quirk a brow at her. "What?"
"I didn't say a thing."
Kimmy rolled her eyes. She folded her arms, looking back at the open-air hallway. "We are not robbing a bank."
"But," Gili implored, gesturing at the paint-stained neon green bandanna tied around their neck, "is it overkill?"
"Yes." Gili puffed out their cheeks, indignant. Kimmy ignored them."The apartment number is 269. Do you..." the mechanic trailed off, tilting her head. "Why are you laughing?"
"I--" Gili swallowed down a giggle behind their sleeve. They swiped their hand over their forehead, brushing back the stray pink hairs that'd wrestled their way free of their ponytail. Took a deep breath, steadying their voice. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Bee." They pointed at a door on the left of the hall. "Anyway? I think our destination lies beyond that door."
The door Gili had pointed to was plain, save for a brown welcome mat. As Kimmy stepped closer to examine the stoop, she caught an unmistakable sparkling. The smattering of luster divulging the presence of her long-standing nemesis: glitter glue. The mat read: Go away.
"This is it." Kimmy sounded drained, as if the single flight of stairs had already exhausted both her and her patience. "269."
Behind her, Gili snorted. Kimmy shot them a glare from the corner of her eye. Gili rose their hands under her gaze-- mimed zipping their lips and tossing the key behind their back.
"I already told you, I don't want any girlscout cookies. Fuck off!" Keira yelled from her couch. Netflix had been consuming her attention for most of the night since arriving home. She had... needed to distract herself from things and allow herself to live in her own little fantasy world that was 'The Flash'. But as the night progressed into morning she changed over to the basic channels her shitty cable box provided in between short conversations with her alien room-mate or whatever the alien equivalent was. Something something news. Something something about fundraising. Something something about small she-demons going door to door asking for money and giving out addictive cookies in trade.
Keira had, at one time, been kicked out of girl scouts. She had hated them ever since.
"Who doesn't like thin mints?" The voice behind door sounded wounded. Then grunted, as if that were actually the case. There was a huffing sound, the ruffling of fabric. Someone-- a second voice-- cleared their throat.
"Crowell, it's..." the second voice paused. Eventually settled on: "Us."
"Oh! Uh, yeah, come in."
The two of them walked into Keira's apartment, shivering off the last bit of the morning chill. Glad we could all make it. First order of business, we should dec--"
What do you mean all, where's Clay?
He'll be here in a few. We should start early."
"You can't know when he'll be here."
"Then you'll have to summarize our meeting for him when he decides to show up," Josh shrugged. "I'm sure I don't have to explain the situation to you. We don't have an overabundance of time, Ms. Kim."
Kimmy looked at him, her head tilted slightly and squinting. Almost as if Josh talking back confused her, like it wasn't within the realm of possibility. Her furrowed brow and clenched jaw meant that this expression wasn't solely surprise.
"Our first order of business is deciding where to put the cube. What'd you call it again?" He asked, turning to Naliele.
<It is the Escafil Device,> the alien said. She would have sounded bored, if not for the irritation. <I shall keep it.> Naliele added, a slight bite to her words.<I am the only one who has any right to its possession.>
"See, all this time I thought Escafil was a place in France." Zasha pondered, putting a hand to his chin.
<Are many humans this insufferable,> she inquired, <or is this one merely defective? >
Kimmy snorted; she quickly swallowed the sound. "Most are, sure," the mechanic breezed, leaning against the back of Keria's couch, "but Vasiliev is... special."
"Awww, that's sweet." Zasha cooed, as if receiving a compliment.
She took a moment, performing the mental equivalent of clearing her throat- which sounded like the sound of the letter 'N' through an air duct- before continuing.
<The Escafil device,> she repeated, emphasizing the words rather forcefully, a half-conjured image appearing to get the point across, <is perhaps the most powerful piece of technology that has ever been invented. There is no greater power in the known galaxy. However, it is imperative that you do not remain in morph for a period exceeding two of your earth "hours". To do so would render you a nothlit.>
"We can't lift?"
The Andalite's thick tail swiftly raised, knocking the bone like blade's dull base (relatively) lightly against Zasha's forehead. Zasha blinked a few times, but seemed otherwise undeterred.
<A nothlit,> corrected the warrior, shifting her head in a similar posture to one raising their finger in correction following her restrained Torf.<You would be stuck in your morphed state forever, and the power would leave you. Such is the way of the Escafil device. To morph is a great privilege. A... responsibility.> The irritation on the Andalite's face fell; something quiet, almost grim taking it's place, her tone was almost hollow. <It is... It is beyond me, why War Prince Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul trusted you with it.>
She straightened. <But it is not my duty to understand the reasons behind his orders. Only to uphold them.> There was a silence from the alien's mind, what must have been the thought-version of clearing a throat. <The Device.>
Silence. Naliele tilted her head. <The Escafil Device,> she repeated.
"Who had it last?" Kimmy asked. The group stayed quiet.
"Uh, hi," Gili offered the group a tiny wave. "My name's Gili. Thanks for having me. Great, uh, apartment. Digging the glitter paint. Very chique." They swallowed.
"Thank you!" Keira smiled at the compliment, apparently aglow at the prospect of decorative vindication. She titled her head at the quasi-stranger in her living room. "He?"
Gili shook their head. "They."
"They get my genius."
Gili snorted. Relaxed into the soles of their Converse, the ones that were red, underneath all the paint. "How could I not? I... uh... what if this Escalator--"
Naliele shot the shorter human the most powerful deathglare that could be mustered in her four yellow eyes.
"...What if this device." Gili could have sworn they saw the alien's eye twitch. "What if it's... yanno?" Gili dropped their voice, leaned forward, conspiratorially. "What if it's lost?"
<That is impossible. Firstly: The safety of that device is paramount. Should it fall into the hands of the Yeerk Empire, the entire galaxy would be unable to withstand the repercussions. Secondly, I have taken the liberty of--> the alien's thoughts were abruptly cut off by the rest of the room.
In the chaotic uproar of the group arguing over who took the device, the front door quietly opened, with a very confused young Finnegan walking into the apartment in silence.
He looked over to the group of teens shouting around the couch, and squinted harder than he already was. Maybe I should grab some snackage before I jump in.
"I swear, the last person I saw it with was Kimmy!"
"And I handed it to Gili to tie my shoe, I already sayed that"!
"Oh, here we go again with the shoe story!"
"You saw me!"
Clay took off his dull olive-green trenchcoat, and hung it on a coat hook, brushing a few bits of ash off of his white t-shirt. He sniffed the front of his shirt for a moment, He carried a black bookbag, slung over his shoulder, and wore the same jeans and shirt from the night before. His eyes were pink and tired, and there was a fluidity in his motions that were rarely seen in the boy.
"I gave it to Babe Ruth over here after you!"
"Babe Ruth was a baseball player! I play football! It was Zasha you gave it to, anyway!"
"Zasha gave it to me, and I gave it to Naleel, and she gave it t-"
<My name is Naliele-Antrothir-Entuinal, human. I am a Warrior. It would behoove you to remember that. And I did not give it to any one of you. I intended to keep it in my possession indefinitely. It must have been taken. I am not yet accustomed to your earth nights, nor your undexterous, forceful human-arms.>
"I've heard cooler names, I gotta say."
"I gave it to Naleel" Kimmy huffed, shoulders squared, eyes pinned on the alien. Four yellow eyes shot back a similar glare, "and she gave--"
"Mmm. Peaches." Clay had opened up a yogurt container in Keira's refrigerator, and began spooning bits out with two of his fingers. The kitchen, as small as it was, was on the opposite end of the apartment, away from the chaos of the arguing. For Clay, this was probably better.
"Why's that cinderblock named The Truth?"
"5th grade science fair project."
"We're getting off topic!"
"We're getting off topic!"
"Why's there so much yogurt in here?" Clay's voice rose above the din.
Kimmy threw her head back and hissed something in Korean before falling back onto Keira's couch. Clay plucked a yogurt container from the fridge and held it above his head, as if to emphasize the question. Silence stretched before the group, who each stared at him before looking back to each other, each more confused than the last. It was Keira who finally spoke up.
"I don't come into your house when you're harboring an illegal alien, and start questioning your shit!
"How much do you poop?!" Clay exclaimed, rifling through her refrigerator. "Everything you eat is, like, milk-based or soda!"
"Hard and fast enough to reach terminal velocity in 1.3 seconds!"
"Clay, how freaking long were you just standing there?"
Clay shrugged. "I got distracted."
"Okay, someone needs to enlighten everyone else as to where the weird glowing alien cube got to!" The thought of it having been left somewhere made the pink-haired teen nauseous.
<Escafil. Device,> the alien corrected tiredly.
"Oh! My bag. Hold on." Clay wiped his yogurt-covered hand off on a nearby shirt hanging off a chair, and reached into his bag. He pulled out the glowing cube, and walked over to the group. "Tada!" He gently placed it on the table, before sitting down on the couch as if he were in slow motion.
"Whatcha mean empty?"
"As in, empty. Zilch. Nada. Zero. We have negative fuel. All your fuel are belong to us."
Southside, and most of South Erie for that matter, was enveloped in a thin sheet of fog. That afternoon's drizzling had subsided, but the air was still cool and wet. The cracks in the sidewalk were packed with dirt that had now turned into mud, draining the last bits of rainwater into the street. There were less clumps of dried leaves on the ground, as Southside had the fewest trees of any district in Erie -- However, what the area lacked in piles of leaves, it made up for in dirty plastic bags.
Clay leaned on a streetlight, with a lit cigarette hanging lamely out of the corner of his mouth. "Great. Stuck in southside with you nerds." The streetlights, as dim as they were, at least provided a comforting orange glow.
"Wow. Nerds. Innovating."
"He has a way with words, doesn't he?"
"Yes. Very economic." Kimmy jabbed Zasha's side with her free elbow. "Some of us could learn from him."
"True enough! You can be a little wordy." Zasha nods, rubbing his side where Kimmy elbowed him. He could take a punch to the ribs just fine, but he swore the girl had daggers for elbows.
"Hey, I know a shortcut to Perry Square, and that's where most of us live." Josh said, hoping to talk over the group. "Shouldn't take us too long to get there, probably a couple of minutes. I mean, unless any of you have the cash to buy some gas, 'cause I'm out." Josh had been around that part of the city with some friends before, so he knew his way around the area pretty well. To his left, there was a poorly lit path that would take them right where they needed to go. If he remembered correctly, they'd have to walk for about a mile.
"This is a terrible idea. You see my feet moving? I am not agreeing to this. This is just happening. We're going to end up in Pennsylvania Chainsaw Massacre, or finding a dead guy, or finding an alien. I don't know." Keira said, stuffing her hands in her pockets, looking genuinely pissed off about having to go through physical activity.
"You know what else was a terrible idea?" Kimmy chirped, tone all sunshine and God's good will. "Not filling your vehicle with gas when the fuel gauge hit the big white 'E'."
"Now now, it's barely a walk at all." Zasha attempted to cheer up Keira, hardly bothered by the idea of the distance. Boxing did often call for a lot of jogging as an exercise, helps keep you in shape and good at moving around. He titled his head to the side after a pause, adding. "Although really, how do you run out of gas? Did you just get back from a road trip or something?"
Josh walked at the front of the group, with Zasha by his side. Behind them, Kimmy and Clay spoke in hushed whispers. Keira was in the caboose, because the she knew that the guy leading the charge was always the first to go.
"It's just probably a crackhead or something."
"No, we're being followed for sure. Who else would be in this part of town this late except someone following defenseless children?"
"My cousin Smacky lives in southside."
"You can't just say crackhead twice and act like it's a new sugges-- isn't that the one with the jerky-leg necklace?"
"Smacky's... Different."
"...Jerky-leg necklace."
"You two remind me why god doesn't love some of us."
"Because he is dead," Kimmy tossed back to Keira with a nod. "Your me-mes killed him."
"Did you just call is a 'me-me'? I'm literally pronouncing it for you. How do you even manage to mess that up."
"A poor teacher always blames her studen--" Josh cut Kimmy off by coming to an abrupt hault in front of her.
"So, if none of you are too scared about the spookiness of this unfinished construction yard," Josh announced with a toothy grin. He gestured toward a fence. Although most of the top was covered in barbed wire, there was a very large gap where it had been pulled down, and was dangling off the edge of the fence. "We can cut through it. It would save us a lot of time and trouble. But I should warn you, according to some people, this place is haunted by the ghost of one of its former workers."
Josh led the group, quickly straddling the fence and scrambling up. One by one, the five teenagers made their up and over the fence, behind him. Clay boosted Kimmy over the edge.
On the other side, Zasha scratched his chin. He cocked a brow at Kimmy. "Huh."
Kimmy looked up from unruffling her dress. "What?"
"Oh, nothing." Zasha lazily picked a piece of fence-dirt from under his nails. "I was just thinking that, if I'd of been the one to boost you over the fence, you'd of stepped on my face."
"Duh doy."
"Guys," Josh called, gesturing toward the construction site in front of them. "We should really be getting a move on. Unless you're afraid of the ghosts."
Clay set his jaw. "I ain't afraid 'a no goats."
The construction yard was covered in a thin layer of dust, everywhere it could've possibly settled. Aside from the garden of weeds and dandelions that sprung up in thin patches, the ground was mostly covered in layers of dead leaves accrued over what must've been years, and a small landfill worth of trash. Empty paint cans, plastic bags, and a miriad of cardboard boxes and broken bottles were sprinkled across the ground, covered in grime and decay, strewn with several leaf crusted lawn chairs which had seen more than their fair share of seatings.
Although the site was mostly filled with construction materials, there was one major building -- Or at least, the frame for one. It looked like the school it was designed to look like had been through two major wars. Although walls and most of the frame were put up, half of the roof was missing, and the steel frame of the building was exposed through missing chunks of concrete. Years of rain and snow had weathered the building significantly, and in the night fog it looked more menacing than usual.
Ivy clutched the grimy pillars and unpainted walls, and the ground surrounding the building was covered in layers of dead leaves, garbage, and broken glass. As the group walked, the only sound that could be heard were their footsteps on the ground, and the husks of ageold leaves that clung to the occasional stray shoe lace.
The closer they got to the building, the more an oddly sweet smell pervaded the air. Strident, heady-- something between plastic and fuel.
Kimmy stuck her tongue out at the smell-- raised one of the flannel sleeves tied around her waist to cover her mouth before she had to regret the expression. "Why does it smell like Huffer Park... like Smacky's last girlfriend?"
"You leave Smacklemore out of this." Clay said, spitting the smoldering remains of his cigarette onto the ground. "Besides, it's just spraypaint. Probably some kids 'round here before we came."
"The fuck kind of name is Smacklemore?" Zasha mused aloud, in genuine bewilderment.
"The fuck kind of a name is Zasha?" Clay shot back, glaring at him through the fog.
There were times where they'd figured that getting a watch would definitely be a good use of their hard-earned cash... But then of course there was also the nagging thought that gee, they could really use a new shade of cobalt. With an elongated sigh, Gili took a moment to survey their multi-colored work that seemed as though a good portion was dripping down the side. It had rained today-- of course it had rained, it was just their dumb luck. Half of this had been sprayed just the other day so it had dried nicely, but it looked like just hoping that working on a wet canvas would be fine, was nothing but a flicker of optimism.
The other half which had originally depicted the bent barrel of a pistol now dripped a silverish-gray down the side of the drab building. Mumbling a quick curse under their breath Gili threw their hands up in frustration, letting the spray-can they had just been clutching fly from their hands and clatter onto the concrete. They had spent too much time here already and they hardly even had anything to show for it... What a waste. Now they were going to have to sneak back home and pray to whatever god sat in the currently dreary sky that their parents were still caught up in whatever sit-com stroked their fancy.
Deciding to call it a night, they reached down to untie their overly large sweatshirt from their waist. Honestly, by now it looked raggedy as hell and they would get the occasional comment about getting it from the nearby thrift store by the more asshole-ish passerbys, but was still one of their favorite bits of clothing. Comfortable, easy to move and paint in, kind of perfect for whatever it was they were up to. After scooping up the rest of their supplies into a rather gaudy backpack and making sure to stow away the bandanna they used as a makeshift face mask. Hoisting the pack up onto their shoulders, Gili ran a hand through their disheveled hair before prepping to set off back home.
... Damn it had gotten dark.
Whistling a somewhat tone-deaf tune, Gili had ignored how easily this place could be construed as creepy. They had spent so much time in the abandoned construction site that they felt more... At home there. Of course that didn't mean that they wouldn't necessarily have their guard up at night.
Gradually, they became aware of the sound of footsteps and paused for a moment to try and squint through the fog. People hanging around here at this time of night could either be one of two things; cops coming to check out a prime tagging spot or (even more unpleasant than option one) it could be a group of murderers come to dispatch their latest kill-of-the-day. Since neither one of those seemed very appealing, Gili took a step backwards and discovered that the night could continue to get even worse.
"What..."
Gili lost their footing, hit the ground, and a loud 'fuckshit!' floated eloquently on the night breeze. They didn't bother moving after that. If they were going to die, they'd rather do it on the ground... At least until the world stopped spinning.
Gili felt something round and metallic bounce harmlessly against their ankle. "To think, death by..." Without looking away from the sky above them, they reached over to wrap their fingers around the can and bring it to eye level, "...Coral Blue #5."
"...Gili?"
"Nevermind. Not a hobo."
"I wouldn't go that far."
Clay led the small search party of three -- Kimmy, Zasha, and himself. He handed Kimmy her mom's phone, which he had been using as a flashlight. "Me and Tovarisch over here'll wait outside." He dropped the pipe he held in his other hand, and trudged towards the doorway.
"Ha! And people say you're uncultured." Zasha chuckled, but nodded his agreement to the plan.
"And people say chivalry is dead." Kimmy accepted her mother's borrowed phone from Clay. She turned the light Gili-ward. "If I'm not out in a few minute," she glanced at Clay under her bangs-- tried to pin her words directly on him, as if a steely glance could communicate no lead pipe vigilantism, "call the police."
"Since when were you guys axe-murderers?" Finally deciding to pick themselves up off of the ground, Gili cast a crooked smirk up at the unexpected group. Really, these were the last bunch of kids they thought they'd be running into in this sort of a place.
"There was a class at the learning annex last month," Kimmy breezed, rolling the phone-turned-flashlight in her hand. The construction site didn't make her nervous or anything. Who wasn't totally psyched to get hobo-murdered? Her hands always... sweated this much. It was a balmy August. "We had a coupon for the group rate."
"I'd have preferred chainsaws but, alas, they only offered the axe course." Zasha chimed in.
"And I wasn't invited?" Leaning to one side, Gili turned their gaze on Clay's retreating silhouette and made it a point to not address him. A majority of their interactions fell upon a mutual unspoken pact that unless one of them poked the metaphorically sleeping bear, everyone would be a-okay.
... Of course, Gili often enjoyed taking a stab at it anyway. "Well hello to you too mister teapot." They had an entire menagerie of nicknames that poked fun at the boy's name-- mister teapot was one of their personal favorites. Another one was 'pot' when they felt the need to be more curt. It was too far to hear, but Clay muttered under his breath at the remark.
"If it was anyone else, I would almost be offended." Redirecting their attention back onto Kimmy, they made a move to stand up and dust themself off.
"And if that were coming from anyone else, I'd almost care." Kimmy folded her arms, knitted her brows. "What are you doing here at night? You know it's dangerous. Even putting newly licensed learning annex axe-murderers aside..." She blinked at the paint-streaked kid in front of her-- tilted her head. Said, slowly: "Do your parents even know you're out?"
For a moment, Gili splayed a hand across their chest in feigned-hurt before cracking into one of their signature grins. They had learned years ago not to take much of what the girl said seriously-- she was one of those rough around the edges types.
"Star-gazing. Slapping a bit of color here and there-- Tryin' to make this place a little less boring, you know?" It wasn't as much of a question as they made it sound, idly scratching some of the dried paint off of their dark shirt. And then Kimmy asked about their parents... just like her to check up on them. Confusing but a little bit endearing.
Gili flashed the mechanic another easy smile. "A'course they do! Do you really think my parents would let me outta the house without knowing where I was?" They took an uneven step forward, their body swaying to one side before rounding back to wrap their arms around Kimmy's torso in a quick and tight embrace.
"So you doooooo caaaare," they sung, letting go nearly as fast. Sure, personal space was a blurry concept for them, but they knew the repercussions of keeping their hands on Kimmy for too long. "I may have stayed out a little longer than intended, but, no harm no foul."
The mechanic shrugged her arms above her head, pointed elbows practically cresting above her head. "Gili--" the rest of Kimmy's threat fell away from her mouth, forgotten, when the building shuddered.
"As in, empty. Zilch. Nada. Zero. We have negative fuel. All your fuel are belong to us."
Southside, and most of South Erie for that matter, was enveloped in a thin sheet of fog. That afternoon's drizzling had subsided, but the air was still cool and wet. The cracks in the sidewalk were packed with dirt that had now turned into mud, draining the last bits of rainwater into the street. There were less clumps of dried leaves on the ground, as Southside had the fewest trees of any district in Erie -- However, what the area lacked in piles of leaves, it made up for in dirty plastic bags.
Clay leaned on a streetlight, with a lit cigarette hanging lamely out of the corner of his mouth. "Great. Stuck in southside with you nerds." The streetlights, as dim as they were, at least provided a comforting orange glow.
"Wow. Nerds. Innovating."
"He has a way with words, doesn't he?"
"Yes. Very economic." Kimmy jabbed Zasha's side with her free elbow. "Some of us could learn from him."
"True enough! You can be a little wordy." Zasha nods, rubbing his side where Kimmy elbowed him. He could take a punch to the ribs just fine, but he swore the girl had daggers for elbows.
"Hey, I know a shortcut to Perry Square, and that's where most of us live." Josh said, hoping to talk over the group. "Shouldn't take us too long to get there, probably a couple of minutes. I mean, unless any of you have the cash to buy some gas, 'cause I'm out." Josh had been around that part of the city with some friends before, so he knew his way around the area pretty well. To his left, there was a poorly lit path that would take them right where they needed to go. If he remembered correctly, they'd have to walk for about a mile.
"This is a terrible idea. You see my feet moving? I am not agreeing to this. This is just happening. We're going to end up in Pennsylvania Chainsaw Massacre, or finding a dead guy, or finding an alien. I don't know." Keira said, stuffing her hands in her pockets, looking genuinely pissed off about having to go through physical activity.
"You know what else was a terrible idea?" Kimmy chirped, tone all sunshine and God's good will. "Not filling your vehicle with gas when the fuel gauge hit the big white 'E'."
"Now now, it's barely a walk at all." Zasha attempted to cheer up Keira, hardly bothered by the idea of the distance. Boxing did often call for a lot of jogging as an exercise, helps keep you in shape and good at moving around. He titled his head to the side after a pause, adding. "Although really, how do you run out of gas? Did you just get back from a road trip or something?"
Josh walked at the front of the group, with Zasha by his side. Behind them, Kimmy and Clay spoke in hushed whispers. Keira was in the caboose, because the she knew that the guy leading the charge was always the first to go.
"It's just probably a crackhead or something."
"No, we're being followed for sure. Who else would be in this part of town this late except someone following defenseless children?"
"My cousin Smacky lives in southside."
"You can't just say crackhead twice and act like it's a new sugges-- isn't that the one with the jerky-leg necklace?"
"Smacky's... Different."
"...Jerky-leg necklace."
"You two remind me why god doesn't love some of us."
"Because he is dead," Kimmy tossed back to Keira with a nod. "Your me-mes killed him."
"Did you just call is a 'me-me'? I'm literally pronouncing it for you. How do you even manage to mess that up."
"A poor teacher always blames her studen--" Josh cut Kimmy off by coming to an abrupt hault in front of her.
"So, if none of you are too scared about the spookiness of this unfinished construction yard," Josh announced with a toothy grin. He gestured toward a fence. Although most of the top was covered in barbed wire, there was a very large gap where it had been pulled down, and was dangling off the edge of the fence. "We can cut through it. It would save us a lot of time and trouble. But I should warn you, according to some people, this place is haunted by the ghost of one of its former workers."
Josh led the group, quickly straddling the fence and scrambling up. One by one, the five teenagers made their up and over the fence, behind him. Clay boosted Kimmy over the edge.
On the other side, Zasha scratched his chin. He cocked a brow at Kimmy. "Huh."
Kimmy looked up from unruffling her dress. "What?"
"Oh, nothing." Zasha lazily picked a piece of fence-dirt from under his nails. "I was just thinking that, if I'd of been the one to boost you over the fence, you'd of stepped on my face."
"Duh doy."
"Guys," Josh called, gesturing toward the construction site in front of them. "We should really be getting a move on. Unless you're afraid of the ghosts."
Clay set his jaw. "I ain't afraid 'a no goats."
The construction yard was covered in a thin layer of dust, everywhere it could've possibly settled. Aside from the garden of weeds and dandelions that sprung up in thin patches, the ground was mostly covered in layers of dead leaves accrued over what must've been years, and a small landfill worth of trash. Empty paint cans, plastic bags, and a miriad of cardboard boxes and broken bottles were sprinkled across the ground, covered in grime and decay, strewn with several leaf crusted lawn chairs which had seen more than their fair share of seatings.
Although the site was mostly filled with construction materials, there was one major building -- Or at least, the frame for one. It looked like the school it was designed to look like had been through two major wars. Although walls and most of the frame were put up, half of the roof was missing, and the steel frame of the building was exposed through missing chunks of concrete. Years of rain and snow had weathered the building significantly, and in the night fog it looked more menacing than usual.
Ivy clutched the grimy pillars and unpainted walls, and the ground surrounding the building was covered in layers of dead leaves, garbage, and broken glass. As the group walked, the only sound that could be heard were their footsteps on the ground, and the husks of ageold leaves that clung to the occasional stray shoe lace.
The closer they got to the building, the more an oddly sweet smell pervaded the air. Strident, heady-- something between plastic and fuel.
Kimmy stuck her tongue out at the smell-- raised one of the flannel sleeves tied around her waist to cover her mouth before she had to regret the expression. "Why does it smell like Huffer Park... like Smacky's last girlfriend?"
"You leave Smacklemore out of this." Clay said, spitting the smoldering remains of his cigarette onto the ground. "Besides, it's just spraypaint. Probably some kids 'round here before we came."
"The fuck kind of name is Smacklemore?" Zasha mused aloud, in genuine bewilderment.
"The fuck kind of a name is Zasha?" Clay shot back, glaring at him through the fog.
There were times where they'd figured that getting a watch would definitely be a good use of their hard-earned cash... But then of course there was also the nagging thought that gee, they could really use a new shade of cobalt. With an elongated sigh, Gili took a moment to survey their multi-colored work that seemed as though a good portion was dripping down the side. It had rained today-- of course it had rained, it was just their dumb luck. Half of this had been sprayed just the other day so it had dried nicely, but it looked like just hoping that working on a wet canvas would be fine, was nothing but a flicker of optimism.
The other half which had originally depicted the bent barrel of a pistol now dripped a silverish-gray down the side of the drab building. Mumbling a quick curse under their breath Gili threw their hands up in frustration, letting the spray-can they had just been clutching fly from their hands and clatter onto the concrete. They had spent too much time here already and they hardly even had anything to show for it... What a waste. Now they were going to have to sneak back home and pray to whatever god sat in the currently dreary sky that their parents were still caught up in whatever sit-com stroked their fancy.
Deciding to call it a night, they reached down to untie their overly large sweatshirt from their waist. Honestly, by now it looked raggedy as hell and they would get the occasional comment about getting it from the nearby thrift store by the more asshole-ish passerbys, but was still one of their favorite bits of clothing. Comfortable, easy to move and paint in, kind of perfect for whatever it was they were up to. After scooping up the rest of their supplies into a rather gaudy backpack and making sure to stow away the bandanna they used as a makeshift face mask. Hoisting the pack up onto their shoulders, Gili ran a hand through their disheveled hair before prepping to set off back home.
... Damn it had gotten dark.
Whistling a somewhat tone-deaf tune, Gili had ignored how easily this place could be construed as creepy. They had spent so much time in the abandoned construction site that they felt more... At home there. Of course that didn't mean that they wouldn't necessarily have their guard up at night.
Gradually, they became aware of the sound of footsteps and paused for a moment to try and squint through the fog. People hanging around here at this time of night could either be one of two things; cops coming to check out a prime tagging spot or (even more unpleasant than option one) it could be a group of murderers come to dispatch their latest kill-of-the-day. Since neither one of those seemed very appealing, Gili took a step backwards and discovered that the night could continue to get even worse.
"What..."
Gili lost their footing, hit the ground, and a loud 'fuckshit!' floated eloquently on the night breeze. They didn't bother moving after that. If they were going to die, they'd rather do it on the ground... At least until the world stopped spinning.
Gili felt something round and metallic bounce harmlessly against their ankle. "To think, death by..." Without looking away from the sky above them, they reached over to wrap their fingers around the can and bring it to eye level, "...Coral Blue #5."
"...Gili?"
"Nevermind. Not a hobo."
"I wouldn't go that far."
Clay led the small search party of three -- Kimmy, Zasha, and himself. He handed Kimmy her mom's phone, which he had been using as a flashlight. "Me and Tovarisch over here'll wait outside." He dropped the pipe he held in his other hand, and trudged towards the doorway.
"Ha! And people say you're uncultured." Zasha chuckled, but nodded his agreement to the plan.
"And people say chivalry is dead." Kimmy accepted her mother's borrowed phone from Clay. She turned the light Gili-ward. "If I'm not out in a few minute," she glanced at Clay under her bangs-- tried to pin her words directly on him, as if a steely glance could communicate no lead pipe vigilantism, "call the police."
"Since when were you guys axe-murderers?" Finally deciding to pick themselves up off of the ground, Gili cast a crooked smirk up at the unexpected group. Really, these were the last bunch of kids they thought they'd be running into in this sort of a place.
"There was a class at the learning annex last month," Kimmy breezed, rolling the phone-turned-flashlight in her hand. The construction site didn't make her nervous or anything. Who wasn't totally psyched to get hobo-murdered? Her hands always... sweated this much. It was a balmy August. "We had a coupon for the group rate."
"I'd have preferred chainsaws but, alas, they only offered the axe course." Zasha chimed in.
"And I wasn't invited?" Leaning to one side, Gili turned their gaze on Clay's retreating silhouette and made it a point to not address him. A majority of their interactions fell upon a mutual unspoken pact that unless one of them poked the metaphorically sleeping bear, everyone would be a-okay.
... Of course, Gili often enjoyed taking a stab at it anyway. "Well hello to you too mister teapot." They had an entire menagerie of nicknames that poked fun at the boy's name-- mister teapot was one of their personal favorites. Another one was 'pot' when they felt the need to be more curt. It was too far to hear, but Clay muttered under his breath at the remark.
"If it was anyone else, I would almost be offended." Redirecting their attention back onto Kimmy, they made a move to stand up and dust themself off.
"And if that were coming from anyone else, I'd almost care." Kimmy folded her arms, knitted her brows. "What are you doing here at night? You know it's dangerous. Even putting newly licensed learning annex axe-murderers aside..." She blinked at the paint-streaked kid in front of her-- tilted her head. Said, slowly: "Do your parents even know you're out?"
For a moment, Gili splayed a hand across their chest in feigned-hurt before cracking into one of their signature grins. They had learned years ago not to take much of what the girl said seriously-- she was one of those rough around the edges types.
"Star-gazing. Slapping a bit of color here and there-- Tryin' to make this place a little less boring, you know?" It wasn't as much of a question as they made it sound, idly scratching some of the dried paint off of their dark shirt. And then Kimmy asked about their parents... just like her to check up on them. Confusing but a little bit endearing.
Gili flashed the mechanic another easy smile. "A'course they do! Do you really think my parents would let me outta the house without knowing where I was?" They took an uneven step forward, their body swaying to one side before rounding back to wrap their arms around Kimmy's torso in a quick and tight embrace.
"So you doooooo caaaare," they sung, letting go nearly as fast. Sure, personal space was a blurry concept for them, but they knew the repercussions of keeping their hands on Kimmy for too long. "I may have stayed out a little longer than intended, but, no harm no foul."
The mechanic shrugged her arms above her head, pointed elbows practically cresting above her head. "Gili--" the rest of Kimmy's threat fell away from her mouth, forgotten, when the building shuddered.
Sch-THMP!
"Hi, Zasha." Clay said dryly. His disdain for the ponytailed boy wasn't as strong as his voice let on, but he wasn't impassioned about the idea of being his friend. There was something oddly wholesome about Zasha that rubbed him the wrong way, regardless of their past.
Clay nodded, pulling half of a cigarette he had saved in his pocket and hanging it from the corner of his mouth. He leaned back onto the table Zasha sat at, pulling out a matchbox.
A sitcom. Of course that's the reference Zasha would pull; shame on Kimmy for expecting something less mundane to fall out of his mouth.
"And where do you feature, Vasiliev?" she asked, tiliting her head-- cocking a brow: the picture of mock-curiosity.
"Wait, let me guess. You're the endearingly, bumblingly useless, nosy sitcom neighbor? Or maybe the obnoxious mother in law?" She glanced at Clay-- smiled at him. Smug. Tipped her head toward the boy who'd taken a seat at the table despite being perfectly univited. "He is the spitting image Grandma Ethyl."
"Zasha can be the main guy bad stuff happens to." He nodded at one of the girls passing by, trying to give one of them his best pouty lips. "Like, uh. Richie Cunningham. I'll be the cool guy with the catchphrases." He stood up from his spot and flipped his collar up, giving Kimmy a thumbs up. "Like The Fonz."
"Aww, Main Character billing? That's sweet, Clay. Don't sell yourself short though, you'd make a pretty good chump-protagonist yourself."
Zasha returned fire with a smile on his face, inclining his head towards Kimmy next. "I like to think I'm the quirky side character that shows up once an episode to be weird. That guy always seems like he's having the most fun of anybody, doesn't he? For you though, I'd have to say..."
Zasha stops for a moment to make a show of thinking, putting his hand to his chin and making a loud humming sound. After a suitably long moment he removes his hand from his chin with a snap of his fingers. "Like a tiny asian Mimi Bobeck. Plenty of sass to go around. Just need the eyeliner to match the lip gloss."
"You know, that does fit." Kimmy nods, "I've always thought Mimi had a spunk. Long as we're sharing? I always get a Kramer vibe from you-- only thing stops the perfect match is his hair, I think. His makes more sense than yours." She tapped her chin-- hummed a quiet, thinking sound.
"So does his wardrobe actually." Kimmy glanced down-- barely bit back a sneer at the technicolor frog splashed across the kid's shirt. "And he's got a bit more of a head on his shoulders..." She shrugged, conceding the failings of the parallel. "But similar, sure."
Zasha gives a loud chuckle at that, failing to keep his composure in the face of such a good counter. He waved his hands in defeat towards Kimmy, a big grin on his face and an entertained twinkle in his eyes.. "Aaah, that's good stuff, Kimmy. Truly the sass-master. Hell, you could probably give Mimi a run for her money."
He turned to Clay, nodding in Kimmy's direction. "You want to be the catch-phrase guy, you should definitely learn a thing or two from her."
When Josh realized Zasha wasn’t by his side anymore. He experienced a quick panic attack. His excuse for being there was Zasha, he was hanging out with Zasha. But if he was to be seen all alone, well, then everybody would know that he was just trying to fit in with the top guys. And then everybody would think that he’s just a moron.
He turned around desperately looking for Zasha. When he saw him he couldn’t help but curse.
“Oh, shit,” he said in a low voice. He saw his friend sitting to a table at the other side of the table section. “Fuck, Zasha, fuck,” He was talking to Clay and Kimmy (and by the looks of it, kimmy was kicking his ass) and as it seemed, he wasn’t having the greatest time ever. All wrapped up in a I-don’t-fucking-want-to-go-talk-to-these-two mood, he started walking towards the table where his friend and the other two were chatting.
"Hey man, I completely lost track of you" he said to Zasha. "What do you say if we get going. It's getting kind of late. Plus the mall is about to close up, I think."
Zasha blinks, looking over to the suddenly arriving Josh. After a moment he shrugged, gesturing towards Clay and Kimmy. "Yeah, I was just chattin while you were doing your thing. It's that late already though? Guess time flies and all that." He stood up, pushing the chair back into place. Zasha nodded towards Kimmy and Clay, then towards the vague direction of the mall exit. "Feel like heading out together? Pretty sure we're all going the same way."
"We're going the same way, all the way to the only exit on this side of the mall? So we should walk together?" Kimmy chirped, clapping her hands. "Golly gee, isn't that a plan!"
She let a measure of spite curl around the thin veneer of glee she'd plated her voice with-- leveled a glance Zasha's way. "Here I was going to suggest that Clay and I left here, while you and yours took a hike." She rolled her eyes. Adjusted her backpack. "Thank God we have your big brain around."
Clay was less... enthusiastic with his response to Zasha's idea. "Mhm." He pulled his beaten up green phone out of his jacket pocket, and began trying to unlock it. "Want me to call a ride, Kimmy?" He said, tapping a few buttons.
"Sounds good to me, but Kimmy's the girl over there, remember?" Zasha interjected before Kimmy had a chance to respond.
Clay stared at Zasha for a moment, with an expression somewhere between insult and surprise; Kimmy glared at him mostly with the former. "Call Keira." He said into his phone, still keeping his eyes focused on Zasha, who was still smiling at his own joke. That Kimmy wound up stomping on one of Zasha's toes as she jumped up from the table was totally accidental-- not at all a pointed effort to wipe that grin off his face. That would be rude.
"So tell me," Keira said, switching her phone to her other shoulder, bending her neck as to pin the small but imported iPhone to keep it from falling and to let her opposite shoulder relax. With one hand she cradled a pumpkin spice coffee and her keys. In her other she stabilized her backpack. "What do we have? I heard it was a Tyrannosaur but no one was telling me anything besides that."
"Well, I'm looking at it now. We haven't broken it out of the boxes yet but it's labeled 'Lythronax'. Latin for 'Gore King'."
Keira's initial reaction was to stop. Tyrannosaurs, like any red blooded american, were her favorite large genus of carnivore and she was getting the oppertunity to work on one very special species.
"No fuckin' way!", Keira said a little too loud, causing a small family walking across the street to give her dirty looks. With the small child asking what the word 'fuck' meant. She smiled sheepishly and continued walking. "So tell me, what's her name? What do we have of her?"
"Well, we have the back, head, a pretty good portion of the ribs and tail, and the legs are a complete set. We're looking at 65-75% completion here. Hard to get a size estimate but we could be looking at eight to nine meters. One of the best finds around. We wont be the only ones on the cleaning job but..."
Her phone beeped. She was getting another call. She was popular today.
"Shit, sorry Mike, I'm getting another call. I'll call you back about this later tonight."
"Yeah, that works. See you."
She shouldered her backpack and took her phone into her free hand to end the call and switch to the other line. A call from Clay. She didn't get those often. At least not anymore.
"Yeah-- hey. Sorry for the wait, what's the deal, Clay?"
"Hey. Can you pick me and Kimmy up from the mall? It's b--"
"And Zasha and Josha!"
"Just Zasha's corpse."
"What fuck?"
"Not Zasha and Josh."
"You have the stealth of a retarded bull made of megaphones in a fine china shop."
"The fuck's a retardable made of megaphones? Anyway, can you swing me a ride?
"Yeah same. I'll be there in a few."
"Thanks, butt stallion."
"I'm going to kill you while you sleep."
"Heh, sounds like a sitcom don't it?"
Clay nodded, pulling half of a cigarette he had saved in his pocket and hanging it from the corner of his mouth. He leaned back onto the table Zasha sat at, pulling out a matchbox.
A sitcom. Of course that's the reference Zasha would pull; shame on Kimmy for expecting something less mundane to fall out of his mouth.
"And where do you feature, Vasiliev?" she asked, tiliting her head-- cocking a brow: the picture of mock-curiosity.
"Wait, let me guess. You're the endearingly, bumblingly useless, nosy sitcom neighbor? Or maybe the obnoxious mother in law?" She glanced at Clay-- smiled at him. Smug. Tipped her head toward the boy who'd taken a seat at the table despite being perfectly univited. "He is the spitting image Grandma Ethyl."
"Zasha can be the main guy bad stuff happens to." He nodded at one of the girls passing by, trying to give one of them his best pouty lips. "Like, uh. Richie Cunningham. I'll be the cool guy with the catchphrases." He stood up from his spot and flipped his collar up, giving Kimmy a thumbs up. "Like The Fonz."
"Aww, Main Character billing? That's sweet, Clay. Don't sell yourself short though, you'd make a pretty good chump-protagonist yourself."
Zasha returned fire with a smile on his face, inclining his head towards Kimmy next. "I like to think I'm the quirky side character that shows up once an episode to be weird. That guy always seems like he's having the most fun of anybody, doesn't he? For you though, I'd have to say..."
Zasha stops for a moment to make a show of thinking, putting his hand to his chin and making a loud humming sound. After a suitably long moment he removes his hand from his chin with a snap of his fingers. "Like a tiny asian Mimi Bobeck. Plenty of sass to go around. Just need the eyeliner to match the lip gloss."
"You know, that does fit." Kimmy nods, "I've always thought Mimi had a spunk. Long as we're sharing? I always get a Kramer vibe from you-- only thing stops the perfect match is his hair, I think. His makes more sense than yours." She tapped her chin-- hummed a quiet, thinking sound.
"So does his wardrobe actually." Kimmy glanced down-- barely bit back a sneer at the technicolor frog splashed across the kid's shirt. "And he's got a bit more of a head on his shoulders..." She shrugged, conceding the failings of the parallel. "But similar, sure."
Zasha gives a loud chuckle at that, failing to keep his composure in the face of such a good counter. He waved his hands in defeat towards Kimmy, a big grin on his face and an entertained twinkle in his eyes.. "Aaah, that's good stuff, Kimmy. Truly the sass-master. Hell, you could probably give Mimi a run for her money."
He turned to Clay, nodding in Kimmy's direction. "You want to be the catch-phrase guy, you should definitely learn a thing or two from her."
When Josh realized Zasha wasn’t by his side anymore. He experienced a quick panic attack. His excuse for being there was Zasha, he was hanging out with Zasha. But if he was to be seen all alone, well, then everybody would know that he was just trying to fit in with the top guys. And then everybody would think that he’s just a moron.
He turned around desperately looking for Zasha. When he saw him he couldn’t help but curse.
“Oh, shit,” he said in a low voice. He saw his friend sitting to a table at the other side of the table section. “Fuck, Zasha, fuck,” He was talking to Clay and Kimmy (and by the looks of it, kimmy was kicking his ass) and as it seemed, he wasn’t having the greatest time ever. All wrapped up in a I-don’t-fucking-want-to-go-talk-to-these-two mood, he started walking towards the table where his friend and the other two were chatting.
"Hey man, I completely lost track of you" he said to Zasha. "What do you say if we get going. It's getting kind of late. Plus the mall is about to close up, I think."
Zasha blinks, looking over to the suddenly arriving Josh. After a moment he shrugged, gesturing towards Clay and Kimmy. "Yeah, I was just chattin while you were doing your thing. It's that late already though? Guess time flies and all that." He stood up, pushing the chair back into place. Zasha nodded towards Kimmy and Clay, then towards the vague direction of the mall exit. "Feel like heading out together? Pretty sure we're all going the same way."
"We're going the same way, all the way to the only exit on this side of the mall? So we should walk together?" Kimmy chirped, clapping her hands. "Golly gee, isn't that a plan!"
She let a measure of spite curl around the thin veneer of glee she'd plated her voice with-- leveled a glance Zasha's way. "Here I was going to suggest that Clay and I left here, while you and yours took a hike." She rolled her eyes. Adjusted her backpack. "Thank God we have your big brain around."
Clay was less... enthusiastic with his response to Zasha's idea. "Mhm." He pulled his beaten up green phone out of his jacket pocket, and began trying to unlock it. "Want me to call a ride, Kimmy?" He said, tapping a few buttons.
"Sounds good to me, but Kimmy's the girl over there, remember?" Zasha interjected before Kimmy had a chance to respond.
Clay stared at Zasha for a moment, with an expression somewhere between insult and surprise; Kimmy glared at him mostly with the former. "Call Keira." He said into his phone, still keeping his eyes focused on Zasha, who was still smiling at his own joke. That Kimmy wound up stomping on one of Zasha's toes as she jumped up from the table was totally accidental-- not at all a pointed effort to wipe that grin off his face. That would be rude.
"So tell me," Keira said, switching her phone to her other shoulder, bending her neck as to pin the small but imported iPhone to keep it from falling and to let her opposite shoulder relax. With one hand she cradled a pumpkin spice coffee and her keys. In her other she stabilized her backpack. "What do we have? I heard it was a Tyrannosaur but no one was telling me anything besides that."
"Well, I'm looking at it now. We haven't broken it out of the boxes yet but it's labeled 'Lythronax'. Latin for 'Gore King'."
Keira's initial reaction was to stop. Tyrannosaurs, like any red blooded american, were her favorite large genus of carnivore and she was getting the oppertunity to work on one very special species.
"No fuckin' way!", Keira said a little too loud, causing a small family walking across the street to give her dirty looks. With the small child asking what the word 'fuck' meant. She smiled sheepishly and continued walking. "So tell me, what's her name? What do we have of her?"
"Well, we have the back, head, a pretty good portion of the ribs and tail, and the legs are a complete set. We're looking at 65-75% completion here. Hard to get a size estimate but we could be looking at eight to nine meters. One of the best finds around. We wont be the only ones on the cleaning job but..."
Her phone beeped. She was getting another call. She was popular today.
"Shit, sorry Mike, I'm getting another call. I'll call you back about this later tonight."
"Yeah, that works. See you."
She shouldered her backpack and took her phone into her free hand to end the call and switch to the other line. A call from Clay. She didn't get those often. At least not anymore.
"Yeah-- hey. Sorry for the wait, what's the deal, Clay?"
"Hey. Can you pick me and Kimmy up from the mall? It's b--"
"And Zasha and Josha!"
"Just Zasha's corpse."
"What fuck?"
"Not Zasha and Josh."
"You have the stealth of a retarded bull made of megaphones in a fine china shop."
"The fuck's a retardable made of megaphones? Anyway, can you swing me a ride?
"Yeah same. I'll be there in a few."
"Thanks, butt stallion."
"I'm going to kill you while you sleep."
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