*shoves Nath at Smith's direction, shoves Nath at smith's diraction, shoves-"
"Wow wow, easy darlin' " Nathaniel said. He had returned to Smith's small hospice room. The flowers he brought last time were wilted and their now sour aroma lingered heavily in the air. Nathaniel showed the poor miss a careful smile. Only the lips. No teeth. He had practice all morning to get his polite and gentle smile just right for her. Why? He didn't know. Even Nathaniel knew there was nothing to gain here, nothing to rescue. "It's just me," he said.
Nathaniel carefully placed a tray with two cups of tea. The tea was lukewarm, as the nurses were scared Smith could accidentally hurt herself with the boiling stuff. "Its with a cloud of milk. Like you ordered."
Nathaniel set down on his familiar small chair. He took his cup of tea in his big hands. A laughable display, if the other party still knéw how to laugh. "I'm sorry that I didn't write you," he told her. Nathaniel's nose wrinkeled softly. "I'm, not..Good in writing," he slowly admitted. Something he wouldn't say out loud outside the hospice room. Something he wouldn't dare to say to another living person but knowing Smith.. And her condition. Knowing that she wasn't visit very often and rarely talked with strangers, he could tell her everything. The watered down version of course. Nathaniel spared her the details of his poor father that couldn't afford a scholarship for his bastard son. Or the mess he made in his daily life. Telling her that he couldn't write well, was enough. For now. "You look lovely today misses Smith," he said. Again with the smile. "Did they cut your hair?" He asked her, knowing that nobody dared close to her with a pair of scissors. Nathaniel nodded, while he stared outside the small window. "I should get a haircut too," he told her. Quasi laughing. "It's getting a bit much innit?" he asked her rubbing his own bewildered hair.
I've seen a few of these out there, but most of them are out of character threads. So, this is an in character thread to spread the love about people's characters! Say what you like about the character above you - their personality, appearance, anything! Just make sure to do it from the point of view of your own character~
RULES
Only basic things, but please take a look:
- Don't skip anyone! Everyone deserves a reply
- Wait 3 turns until going again, even if you're using a different character. This means everyone gets a fair shot
- Only one bump per hour per person
- Don't use insults, slurs, etc even if it's in character! This is a thread for positivity
- If you think your reply will be long, claim! It stops someone from sweeping in and replying while you're typing
- Please write a decent amount. At least two sentences for each reply
Housing the darkness was something Roy was still getting used to. Have you ever had a thought that your brain already had a response to before you could actually think it out? That's what he felt, but multiplied by MILLIONS. He couldn't tell if it was his own thoughts, if Lan was talking to him, or if he was simply going crazy! On the bright side, if he figured out how to do it and focused enough, he could look through the shadows like a book and get some intel on people. Like Nathaniel!
And... uh... oh.
"You know," Roy offered with a half-smile. "I can kinda understand the feeling of being cursed and blessed. You know, getting massive powers but being scared of it? I get it. Sometimes it feels like I have the worst migraine in the world because of all these things I'm seeing or hearing at once. But I think you got yours for a reason. You had a tough life and still managed to get things in your favor. It takes a lot of skill and adaptability to do that. So, uh, good on you!" he praised with an awkward thumbs-up.
Down came Shrike. At long last. And, she got right into the compliments, speaking in her high-pitched tone and wearing a cheery grin.
"So handsome! So beautiful!" She crowed a bit obnoxiously, slinking a finger closer to boop the tip of Roy's nose. "You look a bit like me, but a man, and more rugged, and more hot, and I do not think I look that bad. I mean, just look at us-- we should get a mirror, huh? We must! We must find a nice mirror to look into, because-- you are! You are my spitting image, and yet! So! Much! More! Wonderful!" She paused to puff out an exhausted breath, losing her smile for just a second, feeling as though she had, in that very moment, awoken from a terribly long comatose. Oh, a comatose in which... she woke up hungover! Did that make any sense?
The woman stood there for a second, trying to recompose herself. Her pale eyes were blank as they burned into Roy's soul, but then, with a sharp inhale, she continued on, as peppy and annoying as she was before.
"I am not a fan of the pepperoni hot pockets." said Shrike, "But, I do like some other ones. Lean pockets, especially! I love the spicy chicken jalapeno ones! And the ones with the pretzel crust and the bacon. Very satisfying. And you-- you are very satisfying. You must have excellent taste in food, no matter if it is fancy or not, yes? No matter if you are a king! ..I have never met a king before, I think..."
FINALLY A FOLLOW-UP.
Shrike wouldn't fit a dancer from a television show as much as she would fit a dancer from... something else. But! That was not important. What was more important was this handsome, absolute stud of a geezer, flattering her so much that she took a strand of her silver hair in her fingers and twirled it around with her trademark smile, nodding along proudly. As much as she appreciated the commentary, she was relieved not to have a crazed fan club, if Incrediboy was anything to go off of, and assuming she had a fan club in the first place. She didn't work too hard on her nickname, though. It was a simple name. The reasoning behind it was simple, too.
Her grin grew wider once he commented on it, despite it being chimp-like.
"Well, you are too nice to me!" she responded, "For the record, though, I get along with not-friendly people all the time, so! Maybe! Just maybe! Nothing wrong with being friendly either. The world needs nicer people." She loved making new friends! Although she certainly preferred old ladies to chat up. Speaking of...
"Oh, that lady is your friend, yes? Very interesting, she is-- and very pretty!" Shrike remarked with a nod, crossing her arms as she spoke to him. She almost felt a little smug thinking about the woman. Half Life wasn't as nice to her. Half Life kicked her ass. Shrike preferred murderers to eco-terrorists. "She was lovely, however, very lovely. I can see why she is your friend, yes?"
She leaned towards Johnson, nodding once again. "I do my very best, I can promise you that!" she said, "Private affairs... public affairs... Both are what I am good at, I think. I think I am very good at things, personally."
Johnson carefully placed a hand under his chin, as he eyed the flamboyant young woman preening herself before him. He personally thought she could fit as one of those dancers from... Like... A television show? Okay then, old geezer. He coughed into his sleeve as he sat himself up in such a rigid manner that one might think he was going to morph into a literal stick, before yawning and finally speaking:
"You know, miss... I heard about you before. I think my friend pointed out your existence once, I think? And she told me from there, but... Even ignoring that, you have fame - in a way. Of course, most people wouldn't recognize you as your everyday self, but when you're in that flashy outfit - cape, feathers, and all - you really are what they call 'Shrike.' And that's rather admirable. You don't even need a fancy name. Just one moniker, and people already recognize you. I'm surprised you haven't been swarmed by admirers on your way here."
He coughed into his sleeve, if only out of a need to repress an emerging sense of envy... Sort of? Sure, Johnson had a nickname himself, but the problem was that it was a little too complicated; hell, even he sometimes forgot that it existed, and it was pretty humiliating for someone whose arsenal literally consisted of creatures that could read minds. Of course, however, he left that unsaid as he raised a brow at the woman's perpetual smile, another feature that his friend had remarked upon when she discussed this "Shrike" individual.
"Normally, I would consider a grin like yours just a little threatening," he grunted, "like a chimpanzee baring its fangs and ready to bite." Weird simile, but okay. Johnson took the time to run his fingers through his hair before sighing and gently rubbing the crook of his elbow with one of his hands. "But you... You seem genuinely friendly, maybe overly so, but... Friendly, nonetheless. If I weren't so... Icy, Perhaps I'd get along with you quite well." At that moment, he leaned in slightly, a small sneer on his face as he proceeded to shift the topic elsewhere.
"Which... Reminds me, miss... How was that talk with my friend. Interesting? A wolf and a bird... What an interesting combination. She always has her way with birds. Must be because of the one she has at home, but even then.... Don't you think it's just a little peculiar?"
With a sniff, Johnson leaned back further into his seat before humming, "Not in a bad way, of course. But it's noteworthy, at the very least, just... On a private level. Whatever you do out there is more commendable than - say - being able to tame a wolf. I already know she's past redemption anyway." He laughed hollowly - like a tall bitch - before finally allowing both of his hands to support the back of his head.
"You, on the other hand... You're at least committed to productive endeavors, right? I can commend you on that, and sincerely too, to say the least."
hell yea it's.... time for a follow-up.... Johnson and young people never mesh together well- uwu
Now, an appointment was never really... Expected for poor Johnson, but then again, he didn't really have a reason to gripe as he preened himself in front of the other party. Rude? Besides, he seemed disinterested, as if he didn't even want to be going through this particular process.
The young man, in Johnson's eyes, seemed so naive, so... Quiet. If he weren't so naive, maybe Johnson would've appreciated the quiet aspect of the individual, but as far as he was concerned at the moment, all the older man wanted to do was call his parents over and force them to take themselves - and their son - out of the premises, lest he call the guards on them and have them arrested for trespassing. It was this idea that danced in his head at this very moment as he finally acknowledged the other party through a sideways look.
Even then, though, this look was... Lazy. Oh goodness.
"You'd be talking about me," grunted the aristocrat, "You don't need to refer to me in third-person, though I'm glad you respect me enough to continually refer to my name in such a formal manner. But..." He sat himself up, hands clenched together as he coughed into the wooden desk below his face. "... It's just not proper talking, to be honest." A pause, then another cough. Apathy still outweighed everything else as the man now unfurled one hand and decided to use the other to pick at the grime in the former's nails. Ew.
"Physics?" the man asked with a raised brow. He could understand philosophy, but... Goodness, did anything beyond the concept of gravity scramble his mind. The thought of quantum mechanics - even - was about to make his brain explode, and for a moment, he really did sit there all stunned. One more second, and maybe his brain actually would've exploded in on itself... He shook his head before continuing to listen.
"That's... Inspiring, I suppose," sighed a clearly agitated Johnson, not because of the other party's existence. Rather, he was starting to get the feeling that this was a filibuster set up by his friend to waste time, and... Honestly, even if she had every right to do so, he'd still personally think it was too far. He groaned under his breath before sweeping some dust off his desk. "I'm no... Physicist, or whatever those damn specialists are called, but... I can have some tea. Mind if your parents quiet down, though? This type of talk drones after a bit, and I need to hear my own words so I don't fall asleep in the process." Ouch.
He did, however, freeze for a second. His friend also told him that inspiration is one of the more formidable methods of power, right? Johnson sat there again, blinking for a few seconds, before... A small smile edged its way onto his face.
Maybe, he assured himself, maybe this fellow could be of use to me...
"O-ok" (she seems a bit nervous, standing there shivering a bit) "ok, you can do this 7R..."
"Bryson seems to be a very kind being if you know him more." (she realised Bryson is standing right next to her) "IEEK! I-I mean- You seem cool, and it's no problem you are tired and sleep a lot! Sl-sleep is healthy and important, so getting enough of it is very veeeery important and- you also look nice-" (she turns away blushing. She's too shy for that kinda stuff but she tried her best. She seems to like Brysons cold attitude and wants to support him)
"ahh! you look like such a nice and cute pers- uh- android,sorry,sorry! I shouldnt be so direct haha"
she smiles softly,trying to calm her down
"you know is ok to be afraid sometimes,and i really think you are doing such a great job! i dont know much about what you go trough but... if its as hard as it sounds,i could never judge you for reacting that way,i dont know how I would react... so i really can't fault you for being scared! you are really cute too,come on,i know you will be able to do it,you seem so sweet too!"
"Oh my. I often say darling, but my gods, I truly mean it this time," Remnio remarked, seeming... genuinely surprised, whether at his own words, or at how well it fit the woman before him. "You've got wonderfully bright eyes, my dear. The same blue as my wife's- and I married her."
He placed his scarred cheek in his hand, perhaps a bit conscious of it now before this sweet young woman. "My, you do remind me of myself. I think it is incredibly admirable to be devoted to your loved ones like you are. And that your ability to be so positive moreso. I do my best to stay upbeat, but I have the feeling that it comes very naturally to you, my dear."
Remnio chuckled quietly, though. "I also admire a mischievous streak. Call it a guilty pleasure of mine, if you must, but I've always loved stirring a bit of trouble, with or without my magic. Terrible, terrible fun it is, right? And that makes me believe you're the type of person who can humbly take a joke like that. And my- a bit of an actress are we? Playing innocent... my dear, I would love to see you in action one day. Let's see what kind of fun that lovely head of yours can come up with.
"Also, your coordination of clothing colours is even more becoming. Pink isn't a colour I see too often on people around here."
"I can't say that I don't feel a little sorry for you..." Taffy picks at her lip for a second before catching herself, immediately going to fiddle with her bangs instead. "I mean- Not for any weird reason or anything! It's just that... It's a bit odd, y'know, that people would look on someone of royal blood so lowly... But you've flourished despite it! It's, uh... It's really cool of you. That's a bit of an understatement, really, but..." She coughs into a closed fist, staring silently at the ground for a second.
"Especially on the social front! You always hear about people in your situation getting, like... Bitter? Resentful, even? But you're just-" She gestures at Remnio widely, palms open and eyes wide with excitement. "- Out here! Doing people things! Like, with people! It's... It's really... You can't let things break you. You're hardy. I mean, it's worth it getting your head out there, but I wish I had the guts to step out of my comfort zone more than once a year."
GOD i love the thing they have going on so much. makes me go uwu uwu...
"Oh, no, no, it was fine, really... I think the experience was probably, like... Good for me, in a way? I mean, social events aren't... They're not my cup of tea, if you catch my drift! I'm just glad you were willing to invite me, of all people..." Taffy chuckles nervously, combing through her bangs with her fingers. She's almost pointedly refusing to look Fitzgerald in the eye- she's still not quite confident in her presentation, no matter how hard she tries. "It was really sweet, though, seeing how well-received everything I'd made was. I think I might be willing to come back just for that. I mean- You're right! That's pretty much the entire reason I even cook in the first place. If it's just me in the house, I'll usually just head straight to bed, but as soon as someone comes over... You already know."
"But I'm not- I'm not going to throw myself into a freeway or anything! That seems, like... Dangerous." Her eyes narrow, staring at her hands as she knits her fingers together. "Unless that's an expression. In which case my answer is still no, but I appreciate your concern. I mean, I've barely gotten out there myself, I'm no public speaker or anything... I'm just kind of trying to, like, fix up my reputation. Just a bit. It's weird, having so many people you've never met hate you."
She winces for a second, but Fitzgerald's proposal almost immediately brings the spark back to her eyes. She brushes her bangs out of her face just for a second, if only to make her sudden bewilderment more obvious. "That'd- that'd actually be really nice! I totally wouldn't mind- I mean, it's great that you think so highly of me, I'm really not all that interesting of a person, but... Whatever you want, I'd be happy to do alongside you! I think it'd be worth the time."
- fhrjgrtfhsjyrgv honestly same??? it's such an unlikely dynamic, since it's basically an alien chef befriending a prissy rich bitch, but... it works for both of them.... and honestly that's pretty valid tbh- :")))c
"At least we're not at a party anymore," hummed Fitzgerald as he eyed the mignyan with a surprisingly genuine smile - though even then, it retained that signature smugness that was more than a little subtle at times. He twirled an unlit cigarette in his hand but had no intention in lighting it anytime soon; he just wanted to look cool, for whatever reason. "I do apologize for bringing you there, even if it was for catering. Like I said before, I won't do it again if it makes you uncomfortable."
He stood up out of his seat so that he could place the cigarette aside on a nearby desk, before continuing to gaze at the other party, albeit more sparingly in order to break up whatever awkward eye contact may occur during the conversation.
With a raised brow, he then added, "But you did mention at the party that you like cooking for others to make them happy, right?" He chuckled coyly before waving a hand, as his smile softened considerably. "That's quite commendable, really. Normally chefs just blab about how much they like cooking, as if the craft is just for making themselves happy and not - say - other people." Gee, look who's talking! Fitzgerald spoke as if he had plenty of authority when it came to the subject of generosity, though in reality, he was one of the most selfish bitches pretty much anyone had the misfortune of coming across. Irony abounded here for sure.
Fitzgerald glanced over at the other party, trying to read her expression beyond her bangs and the eyes that dotted her horns. It was... A bit difficult, and though the youth was used to putting up a similar display, it didn't make the drawn out silences that interrupted each monologue any less tense.
Whoops.
"Even outside of a party, though," opined Fitzgerald as the youth paced around the little salon they were in, "you're quite the kind individual. I know social situations are hard for you, and... Trust me, I know where you're coming from. But you so at least try to put yourself out there. Like that whole party thing, but..." He sighed, then rubbed the back of his neck. "Maybe we should take that one step at a time. Don't throw you into a freeway when you've barely learned how to drive, if that makes sense." After a pause, he wrung his hands together and bit down on his lip, as he turned his head around to give the other a good look.
"But if you don't want to do that, we can just... Talk. Maybe you can teach me to cook, even? I like your company, miss, and I do hope it's reciprocated. You seem like a genuinely interesting individual, and I wouldn't mind myself getting to know you better, considering all the time's we've met before."
here's.... a follow-up...... Fitzgerald is nice for once, but only because of a sweet-
but also! rip for the mans most likely.... :"))))))
Fitzgerald's eyes almost sparkled as the youth gazed at the donut so tantalizingly presented in front of him. The only factor keeping him from snatching the sweet like some greedy child was the fact that he was a rich man who was speaking with someone whom he still considered inferior, so... He straightened himself up and coughed into his sleeve, all while trying too hard to appear aloof to the offer.
"Thank you for the suggestion, but no," he hummed with a hint of regret in his voice, though there was also that coy energy that did want to lead the other man on... Reverse psychology at work, maybe? It wasn't like Fitzgerald was that educated in psychology, but all those cursory glances at the pastry sure seemed to imply that.
Besides, the fact that he was being offered a donut was likely the only reason why he wasn't so pissed at being called "Gerald," because he fucking hated that name. He personally thought it was a stupid thing to be called, unfitting for an aristocrat - and a proper one too, not some fucking nouveau riche who recently just plucked themselves off the streets! He much rather preferred to be called "Fitz," though he didn't seem too overt with his discomfort as he shifted his feet and exchanged a glance at the other man.
With a wry laugh, Fitzgerald waved those words aside before replying, "Sometimes chats are better done at parties, because there's so much going on that nobody will focus in on our conversation. But you're right. Sometimes a party is just too stiff, and you need something more informal, like now." And accordingly, the man extended a hand out to allow for both parties to reckon the ocean view that was just below their balcony.
Leaning against the marble railing, the youth glanced over to look at the tower that poked itself through the horizon. He tilted his head as the older man recounted his anecdote about a career deferred, which almost seemed... Prophetic, in a way? Fitzgerald frowned as he faced the other man once more.
"And what does that imply?" he hissed with a raised brow, "That I'm not meant to be a researcher?" The man stood himself up and brushed some dust off his coat, ready to storm off - but he couldn't do the latter before further clarification was provided. Oh! He stood himself up further while offering the man a small smile, his feet no longer pointed away from him.
"Well, I'd rather be a researcher than whatever the hell my parents are, that's for sure," he proclaimed with far too much pomp for someone of his physique, "It sounds boring anyway. I mean... What my parents are doing. Research sounds... Genuinely interesting for me, and..." A pause, so that Fitzgerald could gaze back over the balcony and at the tower. "... Though it may not be for you, that's what I'm meant to be, as far as I know. I've been thinking about it ever since I was a young boy, and I had to escape in order to-" The man clasped a hand over his mouth, but for him, it was already too late.
Almost frantically, Fitzgerald faced the other man as the latter presented his badge. Shit...
So much for remaining covert, then!
"You must be smart to be able to become a tutor." Maribelle commented to Seung-Cheol. She hovered over her plants as she spoke to the man, her fingers brushing against the rubbery surface of its stalks, and then shoving one of said fingers into the pot. "No one here is smart enough, I don't think. They're too stupid or too intelligent to be. Either way, no one will teach me. Or, at least, not in academics." She could tell him the best way not to die in the canyons, but she couldn't tell him what six multiplied by ten was. She probably didn't even know that, really. "Raphael teaches me how to get what I want, and that might be better than mathematics."
She still couldn't deny that the idea of school appealed to her. Not the social aspect, she wouldn't know what to do there, but having realized how behind she was in comparison to a few of her fellow soldiers...
"Not to mention, they also make a lot of money, I think." she then remarked, "Tutors teach the noble children, so of course they would be given something worthwhile. It would make sense for you to be fairly rich, too, and so it's easier for you to-- you know, easier to get what you want, as well..."
She went quiet as she continued to study her plants. The soil in the pot was dry. With a glance to the old watering can, she considered going to fetch more water. She hadn't collected enough the night before. The anthurium was easy to care for when compared to the succulents. She couldn't always remember when to the water the latter. For a moment, she considered her visitor better at caring for them than she was, though she hadn't seen him interact with them much if at all.
"I mean, not that I wasn't educated. My father always made sure I had the best instructors." she then added, "He just stopped once I turned thirteen. Raphael would want the same for me, surely. I find it better that it's-- it's you, you know..." She then curled her lip. "You're more of a gentleman than the people who walk the halls."
FOLLOW-UP TIME AAAAAAAAAAAAAA
The wind whipped against her face, crisp air pouring into her mouth as she breathed it in. She hadn't seen a storm of this caliber before, hurricanes being less heard of for her as compared to the earthquakes that sometimes shook the mountainous West Province. But, here was different-- not as dark, nor as rocky. Instead, in the distance, little lights flared. There must have been millions of them, but of course, she wasn't able to actually keep count of them. She hadn't seen this many lights before, either, just as she had also never come into contact with hurricanes. It was, in all honesty, mesmerizing. So much so that she almost didn't see the man about to jump to his death.
When she turned to face him, she immediately recognized him. And she flinched. After their last meeting, she was certain she was going to end up crying again, so she shied away. She didn't respond to his first few comments, thinking that it was best not to give him any attention. She played with her hands, with her sleeves.
She continued to observe the city lights, before staring off towards the storm clouds as they rolled into the scene. Maybe she should start heading back inside. It wouldn't be smart to sit outside in the rain, especially as she now felt the wind begin to worsen. She didn't respond to him for a few moments. Not verbally, anyway. The most she offered to his question was a brief, silent nod, so fleeting that it might as well be unnoticeable. Seemed she liked the weather, then.
And dating. Huh. No. She sure hoped no one liked her.
"I don't know." she grunted, "And I mean, I don't care that much. Just... you know, um..." She fell silent for a moment, before shrugging and muttering, "I'm not old yet."
One foot places itself diligently in front of the other as he slowly inches across a beam laid out between two buildings. Both of his arms are outstretched on either side of him and he uses them to balance his weight throughout his body. There's little expression to be seen as he comes closer, but as he hops down from the ending and makes a land onto the rooftop Maribelle sits upon, the snidest smile known to mankind surfaces. "Did you see that? I thought I was going to fall and plummet to my death. Wouldn't that have been hilarious?" Despite the gruesome and gloomy conversation, he remains chipper, amused. "You would've been the last person to see me alive. And then you would've had a bounty for your head, since there's a line of people waiting for that position already. But enough about me-"
His back leans onto a nearby railing, cropped shirt rippling in a large gust of hectic wind. It wasn't always this bad at the altitude they shared, but there was a storm on the horizon growing closer with every hour. Massachusetts didn't often see hurricanes, but this year was an exception as Ginnovive clawed her way through the oceans with her eye target-set on Boston. He couldn't say he hated it; things like this were exciting. Who knew what would come from the landing. Maybe some rain, maybe devastating floods, maybe several tornadoes, or maybe the more boring result: nothing.
"Let's talk about you. Do you like this weather? It fits your personality. No offense, I mean that in the best way possible. Ahhh-" Turning slowly, he places his elbows on surface of the railing and leans into them. His attention searches out to the city lights in the distance, flickering and twinkling. "I always wanted to be the quiet, secluded and depressed teenager. It was the cooler thing to do. Be moody, get attention. Everyone wants to date you. Do you have that problem? Maybe not. But still, it's cool that you like being broody. It makes a statement. Think you'll keep it as an adult?"
[a really like backhand compliment gdsoaghadsg]
"Woah! That's a cool coat!"
Matcha exclaimed, raising his paws up to clasp them together. Matcha then ran up to Mequssuk to catch up to him.
"Look, sir, I'm on my break, so I cannot speak for long...but I would like to say that your coat is amazing. Where'd you buy it? How much did it cost?" Upon realizing how much he was barraging the man with questions, Matcha shook his head.
"Oh, I'm sorry! How rude of me, I never got to introduce myself. Uh, heh, I'm Matcha. Look, I'm sorry, off topic, but beautiful day, isn't it? I work at the café downtown; I'm so stoked for rush hour. You must think I'm crazy for saying that, but—but, well, I like it when it's less busy, but come on, you have to be anticipating something! So, what do you do?"