Aleksandr Novak (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pathfinding) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2015-08-31 05:47 am
pathfinding) wrote in undergrounds2015-08-31 05:47 am
Entry tags:
germans are annoying text it
[A; Bookstore]
It is an enjoyable morning where you're trying to enjoy your silence with books and maybe a sub-par latte. Instead, you have to deal with some jerk two tables away blasting some techno neo-classical dubstep monstrosity, made worse by that tinny static that overtakes anything heard second-hand through cheap headphones.
After the token glare at the jerk's direction, there is a hand dismissively waved at you. They don't even bother looking up from their book. "I know I know, final warning afore you throw me out, I'm almost done. Shoo now."
---
[B; Redbright]
Books are useless. Next idea on the list, go try the stupid famous school to help weirdos get a better handle of their powers. Fast forward an hour and an obscenely short interview, only to walk out with a rejection slip because humans are unwelcome here, chains forged of paranoia by entwin it's a normal school and he's normal. Well.
Ain't that hilarious.
Legal ways are out then. Time for being sketchy. Enjoy having your space invaded in any fashion of your choice at any time you let your guard down: sliding up against your shoulder, leaning over the back of your park bench, suddenly sitting next to you in the lunch room and eating your fries. Usual totally normal college exchange student stuff, not suspicious at all, obvs.
"Heeeeeey, so what are you? And how much do you pay a year, that's more important."
---
[C; Hobos kind of smell like shame - Closed to Kate]
The message is left at just before six, rambling and tripping over itself like what usually happens in those subtle fits of panic. Most of it is just obtuse nonsense - again, not new - but parts stand out. Left the wallet somewhere. Or it got stolen? Shrugs??? Also he's detained, no big. The spare house key is under the left bleeding heart this weekend. There's also a cat stuck on the fridge.
Maybe somewhere in there is a 'please don't leave me here' but really. Totally obtuse nonsense. She's just hearing things from the stupidity overdose.
When she actually turns up, the idiot in question is still in a holding cell, sitting cross-legged on a bench and staring vacantly into space. There is also a drunken scruffy dude sleeping on his shoulder. These two things are obviously not related. "Your sunglasses look stupid."
It is an enjoyable morning where you're trying to enjoy your silence with books and maybe a sub-par latte. Instead, you have to deal with some jerk two tables away blasting some techno neo-classical dubstep monstrosity, made worse by that tinny static that overtakes anything heard second-hand through cheap headphones.
After the token glare at the jerk's direction, there is a hand dismissively waved at you. They don't even bother looking up from their book. "I know I know, final warning afore you throw me out, I'm almost done. Shoo now."
---
[B; Redbright]
Books are useless. Next idea on the list, go try the stupid famous school to help weirdos get a better handle of their powers. Fast forward an hour and an obscenely short interview, only to walk out with a rejection slip because humans are unwelcome here, chains forged of paranoia by entwin it's a normal school and he's normal. Well.
Ain't that hilarious.
Legal ways are out then. Time for being sketchy. Enjoy having your space invaded in any fashion of your choice at any time you let your guard down: sliding up against your shoulder, leaning over the back of your park bench, suddenly sitting next to you in the lunch room and eating your fries. Usual totally normal college exchange student stuff, not suspicious at all, obvs.
"Heeeeeey, so what are you? And how much do you pay a year, that's more important."
---
[C; Hobos kind of smell like shame - Closed to Kate]
The message is left at just before six, rambling and tripping over itself like what usually happens in those subtle fits of panic. Most of it is just obtuse nonsense - again, not new - but parts stand out. Left the wallet somewhere. Or it got stolen? Shrugs??? Also he's detained, no big. The spare house key is under the left bleeding heart this weekend. There's also a cat stuck on the fridge.
Maybe somewhere in there is a 'please don't leave me here' but really. Totally obtuse nonsense. She's just hearing things from the stupidity overdose.
When she actually turns up, the idiot in question is still in a holding cell, sitting cross-legged on a bench and staring vacantly into space. There is also a drunken scruffy dude sleeping on his shoulder. These two things are obviously not related. "Your sunglasses look stupid."
no subject
[He placidly accept the braiding, having learned by now nothing pisses Aleks off like being denied access to his hair. What might be surprising, though, is the knife he pulls out of his pocket, handing it handle-first to Aleks.
It thrums with that edge. A concept knife. Where did he even get this?]
Try to at least keep that on you.
no subject
[Which, quietly, rings with a hollow victory, because it's known that it's inevitable no, wrong, it's stupid.
The braiding is infinitely more distracted than usual until it's not the knife that pings him, but the presence. A sheer reflex of get away from that NOW that jerks him back. After that is when Liam gets the most judgmental look in the universe.]
I can't fight, moron.
no subject
[Can't fight? That concept really does boggle his mind. He flips the knife a couple times in his hand, thinking, considering.]
I can't protect you always. And your Sight has blind spots...you're fragile, even for a human. To not try...something to keep you protected when I'm not around would be stupid of me, and a piss-poor way to repay my debt, too.
So in my situation, if you can't fight, what would you do, 'Sasha'?
no subject
Fine. He's played the game before, much as he loathes it. The reflex is natural, if a bit embarrassed. the game is old but explaining the moves is new, the shame of peeling off layers in front of strangers-] I'm not stupid. I'm 'fragile'. Even if I did know how to fight, I'm useless against other humans, let alone leeches or batteries or mutts. My best method is stopping problems before they start with underhanded means. Usually using others as a trigger, as you've experienced personally.
In addition, you all have some stilted honor code or you're fond of fist fights. They always come with knives or fists, with monologues and delusions. And then I shoot them in the head until they stop moving.
[Pragmatic and extremely dirty, but admittedly a successful method. There's something dumb in that sentence anyway and it comes out with a sigh.] If you want to teach me to stab things, fine, but you don't owe me a life debt and I'm going to suck at it, so why bother?
no subject
A gun would work better, but can you get one? Find a supply of bullets--get some silver, and some iron, while you're at it. Hillingdon probably has the connections, and they may help you if they don't realize who you're friends with. I've got the money to pay for it, if you don't want to charge your father for it.
[He considers the knife for a moment longer.] I'll teach you anyway. Options are useful to have. Especially around things like me.
[That's the crux of it--Liam assumes everything is as ruthless and violent when cornered as he is. The world is a dangerous place, if that's true.]
no subject
Yet, the very thought is too horrifying to even continue the conversation. A heart skitters past two beats and the entire idea is shoved into a pit.] Yeah, I understand, I'll go make nice with Hillingdon. Could probably get it for free if I take up a side job.
[do not let him make friends with the hunters that is the worst idea]
Got it. I'll tr-[ies so hard to make up for near losses taken by the waves under the s]ust. Trust you with it. Just don't kick me off the roof or something.