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Post by Deleted on Jan 19, 2019 14:50:44 GMT -6
The faint aromas of burned sage and beef stew overwhelmed the senses upon first entering the front door. The herb was to be expected, given how it had almost become a signature scent the household over the years. It usually told May either one of two things. Either the folks had just finished another long winded argument, or someone had died. Naturally the notion of either would fail to cross the girl’s mind when she entered, as she nonchalantly tossed the keys to her motorbike into the usual silver tray by the door. Some chatter from the radio could be heard in the kitchen, none of which was distinct enough for May to care. The news that came over the air was usually as bad as the music these days. There wasn’t an inkling of a desire inside of her bones that wished to hear either. Instead she would make a beeline for her bedroom, hoping to escape another evening of feckless parenting. May would shut the door with a nonchalant kick of the foot, tossing her jacket across the room to land on a mountain of laundry, which had effectively overtaken the love-seat couch in the corner. Stretching with a sigh, having effectively survived another boring day at the coffee shop, the teen would seize the nearby remote to her stereo system.
With a click to power on the device, Mayze would strum a few of the opening chords on her air guitar, falling onto her bed with a finalizing plop as the song kicked in. Humming along to the rhythm, she would bob her head as she attempted to escape the needless aggravations of another eventless day. Thoughts would drift casually into a daydream, which mostly consisted of deviated events from her unexpected meeting of a high school crush. There was a rush of adrenaline with how the song perfectly described how she was feeling, how perfectly it tied into the fantasy of turning a warehouse bust into a full blown rock concert. In this fantasy she rocked the lead on stage, the crowd filled with anyone that ever mattered to her in school, whether good or bad. Friends, family and foes alike all dominated the crowd, surrounding the only face that the May in the fantasy would care to acknowledge with eye contact: Terryn Yaki.
The real May continued to bob her head contently, sitting up in the bed as she listened on to the fuel of her daydream. The one in the daydream would pour her heart into her performance, which eventually began to spill from her real counterpart’s lips. The volume went up as the solo came in, as did May whom began to jump around the room as though a guitar player would upon a stage. She pointed and sang to an invisible crowd, as though they were eating up the performance of a lifetime! They certainly were! In her mind this was a sold out show! Everyone was here, and she needed to pour her heart into every note! They had paid a fortune for those tickets, and just look who was staring back at her from the front row! The fantasy May stomped around the stage, singing and pointing to all the fans that had come out to see the band, and her, perform the show of a lifetime.
Then came a loud knock on the door, followed by a timely ”May! Would you turn down the noise!?” It swiftly prompted the daydream to dissolve around the disgruntled girl, whom was left alone inside her bedroom to give a defeated sigh near the end of the track. Typical of Mom to ruin yet another session of stress relief, despite how much protest was given in the name of freedom. It did little good, as May felt the woman barely understood or listened to her at all. Naturally the disturbance of her euphoric musings would warrant a roll of the eyes, followed by several obnoxious faces made at the closed door. With a huff she would exchange pants for pajama bottoms, then fixate her locks with a hair tie before deciding to exit her sanctuary.
Dad was watching old WMT footage on the sports classics channel, while Mom was using the distraction to capitalize on finishing the stew for dinner. May said nothing, but merely plopped on the couch opposite her father as a younger Masked Arcosian would take a suplex from the then reigning champion. She knew well enough by current events that the footage was old, given one of the fighters was now retired, and the date indicated the bout took place years ago. Still from the way her father seemed so nonchalantly glued to it, would tell her that he had seen the fight more than once. It held her interest long enough until commercial, before the girl found herself wandering into the kitchen to find some variety of snack. Though as soon as the fridge was pried open, May felt the hot stare of her mother on the back of her neck. ”What?” she would ask with an exasperated sigh. May wouldn’t turn to meet what she guessed to be an incredulous stare, instead waiting for whatever smitten answer she was sure to receive. Naturally it came like clockwork.
”You’ll ruin your appetite. Stay out of here until dinner’s ready.”
”Ah, right. Well…we wouldn’t want anything else in this house ruined. Would we?”
May would let the fridge door slam with its own weight, spinning on her heel to give her mother a very insincere salute before marching out of the kitchen. Finding little reason to mingle with anyone at home, May would retreat again to her bedroom on the far side of living room, once again shutting the door in her wake. ”Not like that’s hard to manage,” she quipped under her breath, clicking on the television on her dresser. A news report flashed onto the screen, which prompted May to instantly change the channel to something less sincere, and more scripted. Sitcoms were a guilty pleasure when one’s social life, or the weather failed to provide an allowance of escape. It wasn’t as though she had anything better to do this evening, and quite frankly she was not foreseeing that to change.
The funny thing about life though, was that it never adhered to one’s expectations.
Another knock came at the door, as did another roll of the eyes into the back of May’s skull. ”What!?” she would call out, her tone of irritation. There was a pause, which the girl took as a sign that she was probably needed in the other room. Mustering a scoff as she climbed out of bed again, May would trudge across the wood floor to crack the door open, peering through it to meet her mother’s gaze of disinterest in her daughter’s attitude. ”Yes?” asked May with feigned politeness, opening the door another inch.
”Mail is here. Go fetch it before it gets wet.”
”But it’s raining…?”
”That’s why I’m asking. Throw on your boots, and go get it.”
The door would slam with an irritated growl, before May would go about changing her pajama bottoms for the pants she came home with. After she was practically redressed, she would seize the jacket off the edge of her mountain of laundry, then set off on a march through the living room out the front door. A faint ”Thank you!” could be heard on her way out the door, amidst a torrential downpour that could probably drown a sea full of fish. It was hard to see, the water from the sky being so thick it formed a veil of greyed haze everywhere the teen would look. It was only just barely, with a strain of the eyes, that May managed to catch a glimpse of the mailbox at the end of an otherwise average sidewalk.
”Tch- you have got to be kidding me!” she yelled, her voice drowned in the roar of the rain. This was downright ridiculous, no wonder Mom didn’t want to get the package herself! Always stuck with the dirty work. As usual. With a deep breath of aggravated air, May would step from the dry shelter of the front porch, and begin an agonizing run for the mailbox. Two thirds of the way down the concrete path, May would feel her feet slip out from under her, seconds before she would land face first into a puddle. Pushing herself slowly out of the water with a growl under her breath, the girl’s amber eyes would wander upward to glimpse a package sitting at the base of the mailbox. How her mother knew it was here was anyone’s guess. Though from the looks of it, the integrity of the box wasn’t going to hold out much longer.
Tebooleh |
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Post by Tebooleh on Jan 19, 2019 21:04:40 GMT -6
As for Tebooleh... while he wasn't outright thrilled with the pouring rain, he was enjoying it a little bit. His body had weathered far worse in his youth. Raging blizzards in the mountains, monsoons and hurricanes near the coast of his homeland, and the baking heat of the desert sun. Pouring rain was nothing compared to those things. Especially since he didn't need to worry about the main danger of a raging storm, floods. Back home, even a light storm could mean a deluge of mud and water as loose sand became wet and mucky. And dry soil, unused to moisture, refused to absorb a deluge quickly. Such flash flooding was relatively rare in his village, mostly because rain was rare, but he'd seen what it could do to his people's neighbors.
In Satan City, though, they were used to rain. Thirsting plants and animals drank up the water eagerly after it fell, and the city had very little spare dirt or dust to turn into mud. All of the concrete and metal made for little rivers and flows, instead, as the water made its way into sewers set aside just for rain water. He'd heard it mentioned that the pipes took it all to some reservoir or river nearby, with some automated systems that pumped the excess into the aquifer that Satan City used for its water needs. It made for a rather lovely scene, all told. Little puddles that made miniature lakes, flows of water down the street that made tiny rivers. There was also a steady rhythm from the beating rain, though it sometimes shifted as the wind blew a little harder or a little less. There were less people out and about as well, owing to the hour and the storm. So it made the whole city just a tad more manageable for him. He could walk without worrying about being pushed by the crowd of people or attracting stares... Or getting overwhelmed by the constant, strange noise of people talking and playing music and machines running and humming and flyers and starships going overhead and hovercars honking at each other and-...
He shook his head and closed his eyes to knock himself out of that train of thought. After he opened all three of them back up, he shook his head and looked around at where his feet had taken him. He was no longer in an area with the high-rise skyscrapers and chic stores all crammed together. Instead, he appeared to have wandered somewhere just a little bit older. Somewhere where the buildings tended to only be a few stories or dome-shaped. Houses, it appeared. Some had yard space to the sides or in front, where grass covered bubbling muddy soil. Others just had bits of concrete in front of them, while their sides were crammed against the walls of their neighbors. Occasionally there were stores on the corners of intersections, some were attached to fueling and charging stations.
All in all, this area was far less busy than downtown had been. It was also a good distance away. And, despite looking much like where his father's friend lived, he knew it had to be a good distance from there, as well. Just how long had he been walking through the rain? He sniffed his nose, and took a good feel of his sweatshirt. It was completely soaked through. He had zipped it up when he felt the rain falling, and pulled the hood over his face, but... it seemed to have done little good. His pants were utterly soaked, too, at least on the front. Every step forward had pushed into the rain. As he put his gloved hands into the tight pockets of the jeans, he grunted. The travel pack on his back was waterproof, at least. And so his back wasn't covered with too much water. While he still didn't find himself minding too much that he was dripping wet, he knew that others would be unnecessarily concerned. Such as his father's friend. Or his father's friend's wife, who had picked out the clothes for him. Perhaps he could find another coffee store like the place he'd visited on his last trip to Satan City. What had it been called? Bean of the Brew? Yes, that was it. He could find a shop like that, wait out some rain, get dry, then take some of the public transit back to the home of that family friend and his own family. That way he wouldn't cause the man's poor wife to worry when he got there.
Right as soon as he'd come up with this plan for himself, the tri-clops sensed a familiar energy. It was on the other side of the street he had been walking down. He looked to his right, in the direction of what he'd felt. He turned just at the right time to watch a familiar face fall right into a puddle that had pooled where a bit of a concrete walkway had become worn and indented. He didn't quite recognize who it was until he saw the amber eyes rising up from the water to stare at a box near the curb of the road. The girl from the very coffee shop he'd been recalling from his last visit to the city. It appeared that she had slipped while trying to quickly recover a package from the rain. A package that was boxed up in cardboard. He knew that the fragile substance didn't have much time before it was compromised by the rain beating down on it. It might have soon started to break down, exposing its contents to the elements. Perhaps she had been rushing to get to it before it broke down. Either that or she hated the rain far more than he ever could have. A few more moments of being soaked wouldn't kill him, he thought. So he made a decision.
In the blink of an eye, he was across the street. He dragged a bit of wind and rain behind him, but not enough to destroy the package. Or blow it away. He moved far more slowly as he picked up the package. He didn't know if the contents of the box were fragile, so he erred on the side of caution. His hands exited the pockets of his pants, planted themselves near the bottom of the box, then lifted. As soon as it was off the ground, he moved his hands again. This time to the center of the bottom of the box. Hopefully it would keep the item inside from tearing through and falling to the ground. With slow, measured steps... his sneakers came to a stop in front of May's (presumably) still-crouched body. One hand stayed on the bottom of the package that she'd come to retrieve, while another extended down towards her. So she could help pull herself up the rest of the way without shoving further into mud and water. Three eyes stared down at her from beneath the hood, with a flat look to them. A bearded face with olive skin showed no hint of a smile. Despite this, he still said...
"Funny thing, running into you again."
Tebooleh Thread PL: 28,000
@mayze
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Post by Deleted on Jan 20, 2019 19:14:10 GMT -6
The ululations of the rain’s relentless patter of the world beneath would drown the approaching steps of a stranger. It was only until Mayze would let her focus rise, that she would catch the splashes created by well weathered boots, realizing then that a hand had been outstretched for her aid. She caught what the enigma said as a begrudging grasp took Tebooleh’s palm, the slightest of tugs made as the girl used his weight to hoist herself from the soaked walk. Though as she looked up into the drenched hood of this good samaritan, that was when May truly knew what the young man had meant. Passed that scruffy beard was a face rather familiar, even if it took the teen a moment to recall his identity in the torrential downpour. Indeed it was funny to run into a customer like this, yet strange enough that it was out here in her neighborhood of all places. Was he…following her? Hahaha! No way! The idea was almost laughable. He probably knew somebody who lived out this way if anything. A brow would quirk at him, before May would come to realize that he was in possession of the package she had been sent for.
”Yeah, hilarious,” she would quip wryly, before nodding to the damp parcel in his hand. ”That ours?” she would ask rhetorically before snatching it from his grasp. A quick inspection revealed her father’s earthling last name, to which the girl with verde locks nodded with an agreeing hum. ”Mhm, that would be it. Whatever it is.” Tucking the package under her arm, the girl would give the hooded triclops an incredulous one over, studying his outfit from head to toe. There was no doubt about it, those clothes weren’t at all suitable for this weather. If anything he was probably freezing, and yet she couldn’t help but find the humor over a chance opportunity to wait on this former customer again. The girl would give a chuckle and shake her head, almost as though May were making fun of what she saw. That was until she would jab a thumb in the direction of the front door, figuring she could return the favor by lending this guy a hand.
”Looks like you’ve seen more water today than a fish. Come on then,” she would nod in the direction of the porch, taking the lead down the sidewalk. Once May reached the shelter of conditional dryness, she would gesture to a wicker bench at sat nearby as she regarded Tebooleh again. Part of her hoped she wasn’t about to make a huge mistake, but she couldn’t see any harm in giving this guy a place to hide out from the rain for a little while. ”Wait here a second, yeah?” she asked with a nod, wasting no time before she stormed into the house with the package. There was a brief indistinct argument from inside, followed by the roar of a man’s laughter just before May would emerge from indoors once more. The girl would offer the wanderer a sheepish grin, and a nervous laugh that foretold of an impending apology.
Though one would fail to leave her lips, and instead May would toss a dry towel at the trinity of eyes beneath that soaked hood. ”Dry your ass off, and come inside Dude. We were about to start dinner.” The teen would start inside before abruptly pausing, then pointed down at the wayfarer’s shoes. ”No shoes though, Mom just cleaned the carpets a few days ago.” She waited long enough to make sure he understood, then would beckon for him to follow her inside. Were he to do so, Tebooleh would be met with the sight of a cozy living room with multiple couches, and an assortment of antiquities of native earthling tribes. One might never guess the skinny brunette finishing a beer in the nearby recliner was in fact a saiyan, as the house seemingly showed no signs that it was inhabited by any. May gave the room a disappointed mask, knowing fully well just how her grandfather felt about the lack of heritage filling this home. In a way it almost felt embarrassing to show off to guests, only because it still felt empty without the only person who made it feel like home.
"Hey Dad, this is uh..."
Tebooleh |
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Post by Tebooleh on Jan 20, 2019 21:53:41 GMT -6
Tebooleh used some of his own strength to help her rise to her feet. Once she let go, he moved to hold out the package to her. Her hands were faster than his own. May wound up grabbed the box before he could finish handing it over. As soon as she asserted that it was indeed a package for her and her family, he put his hands in the pockets of his pants again. He bowed his head, and prepared to excuse himself.
But first, he had a moment to feel self-conscious as those amber eyes gave him a once over. He raised one of his own brows in response to her appraisal. Subconsciously, he stiffened up a little bit, and straightened back up with a reared head. Why was she eyeing him up? Was a fight about to start? The laugh she gave just made his lips tighten a bit. She was clearly mocking him in her mind. Was he that ridiculous looking? The three eyes perhaps? No... no... Clearly his father's friend and his wife and his children had all lied when they said the outfit he wore was fashionable or appropriate. He must have looked like a fool from the wastelands. He let out an annoyed grunt and made motions to leave. Only for her to extend her offer for him to dry off.
At first, he assumed that she meant for him to wait on the porch until the rain stopped. A small gesture, but one befitting the little help he'd given to her. In his mind, it was an equal exchange. Thankfully, the porch was somewhat dry, as the rain only entered the awning-covered area when the wind picked up or shifted. He took a seat on the wicker bench as asked. He made sure to remove the little cushions and pillows before he did. Once he had cleared a place, he removed his travel pack and put it on the ground in front of the bench. Then, finally, he sat and sighed as he leaned back into the seat. It was nice to take a load off of his feet, even if he'd only been walking for a handful of hours. He only realized May's true intentions after she told him to wait outside for a moment. He wanted to protest that he had done nothing to deserve such a kindness. But she'd closed the door on him before he could do more than open his mouth and raise a hand. He sighed again, this time from exacerbation, then turned away from the door.
He tried to focus on the gentle rhythms of the rain... Yet the sounds of a somewhat heated argument echoed out through the closed door. He groaned aloud as he realized that now his presence was causing friction and problems. He debated just fleeing into the night before she could stop him, pretending he was never there. He could do it if he wanted to. He was more powerful than she was. He could fly faster. He could be gone in a blink of her eye. He stood up to go... right as she opened the door. He turned his head towards her, just in time to catch the towel. It probably would have smacked against the face of an untrained man, but Tebooleh's right hand caught it about a half a foot from his face. Plenty of space to spare. He gave her a quick look with all three of his eyes. His brow was furrowed, but no more than it had been a few minutes ago. And his lips had loosened back to their natural state.
He did as he was bidden, as best as he could. He unzipped and stripped off the soggy hoodie, then he pulled the tank top up and off over his head. Once both of his shirts were removed, he began to wring them out so that they weren't both dripping wet. In order to do so, he rolled each one up, then gripped and squeeeeezed in opposite directions. He did this over and over, up and down the length of cloth that he had. He gave as much power behind wringing as he could give without just tearing the cloth like tissue paper. This necessitated a bit of flexing and bulging of his various muscles on his arms. Finally, he'd gotten the A-shirt/tank-top (he'd heard both terms used for it) to a point where it was only slightly damp. The hooded sweatshirt was a lost cause, he would have to wait for it to dry enough that he didn't get any furniture wet. Once that was done, he toweled off his chest, his arms, his hair and head, and his neck. He ruffled and ran the fabric over enough that he was CERTAIN he'd gotten the water off of himself. He folded the towel over his shoulder after he finished. After May made her request, he knelt down to undo the laces of his sneakers. He didn't step out of them until he was inside, however.
He glanced around for somewhere to put his shoes as soon as he'd gotten out of them. He settled on placing them next to the family's own pairs near the welcome mat. He thought he saw a little rubber pad under them, meaning that hopefully his shoes wouldn't cause the floor to flood as they dried. His hoodie, he hung up on a rung over a little (untarnished) box. The drips would hopefully be contained. Speaking of which, he made sure to roll the hems of his jean legs up so that they were past his ankles. He also grabbed the towel from his shoulder and wrapped it around his waist after he stood back up. His jeans were still soaked, but the barrier of the towel might keep them from getting the furniture wet. He managed to spy a mirror near the entryway and scowled at his reflection. His hair was getting long enough for his curls to reappear, and his beard had gone from elegantly trimmed to scruffy and ill-kept. He could have sworn the hair was growing back on his arms and chest, as well. He had intended to give himself a proper grooming when he got to the house of the family friend, but now he was stuck as a stranger's guest looking like a wild beast. Or so he thought, the hair growing back was only a light, barely noticeable fuzz. The beard was a bit scraggly, but no more than your average nineteen-year-old man's would have been. His dark brown hair did have some luscious curls now that it was growing back in, though.
He realized that May had started wandering into another room and followed after her. He didn't want to be left alone at the entryway without someone to introduce him. He also didn't want to wait for her to call him like some stray dog or toddler. For some reason he felt far more adult slowly catching up to the blue-ish green-ish mane of hair that covered May's back. As he entered, he found a surprisingly cultured living room. Vases, arrowheads, statuettes, and masks decorated the walls. Along with a few paintings and photos. Some of the masks were the same sort he would have found carved and hanging on the wall of his village's little community theater. Most of the others were foreign and fascinating to him. Add in a few comfy couches, nice carpet, and a kicking television and sound system broadcasting the fight of a familiar-looking Arcosian... and Tebooleh found himself in quite the living room. He almost didn't respond when May introduced him, as all three of his eyes were busy drinking in the room.
But his mind caught up with her words, and he turned look towards the skinny, brunette man. He had the distinct feeling he was going to tower over the man, and everyone in this house. What with being around... 200 centimeters or so. Six-foot-five under an old measurement stick.
"Tebooleh, son of Ghanoush."
He spoke evenly and flatly, though a bit quicker than he had during the one sentence he'd given May outside. He bowed at the waist as he introduced himself. He stayed bowed as he gave an extra pair of sentences.
"You have a lovely home. Many thanks for the invitation into it."
When he was commenting on the aesthetic beauty of the home... he spoke with the same tone as he had when sipping the coffee May had once served him. It was a clear and unavoidable fact that it was a nice house. At least according to his tone. He straightened back up and locked all three of his eyes on the man with the beer. Waiting for his response... And May's, since he wasn't sure what she had told the fellow to get Tebooleh invited through the door. His hand kept hold of the towel around his waist.
@mayze
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