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Post by Milo Ventimiglia on Feb 9, 2011 9:22:30 GMT -5
A whole week passed by before I saw Tara again. I quickly found out the next day that she had been suspended, or something like it. Mauve had asked me a few times about Tara, and I had, in a monosyllabic manner, said that I had made a friend and ‘who cared’. I had gone to bed early in a bad mood knowing that mentally, I was starting to behave and think like a teenager, a fact which bothered me immensely. Of course I cared about Tara. I just didn’t want to tell Mauve about it. My time at school did not improve much for the first few days. I didn’t really see Annie and her friends the day after meeting Tara, because they were on some kind of field trip for the cheerleader squad and the football team. Go figure. The next day, however, they were on my back. I came to school and went to my locker. It was my third day here and I was starting to understand the technology behind unlocking the stupid thing. Feeling a bit triumphant about it, I smiled to myself as it unlocked.
“Hey, whore-lover,” someone breathed down my neck. Before I could move, a shoulder came out of nowhere, shoving me into my half opened locker. I hit the edge of the door, which slammed shut, then sort of bounced back a bit. “She give you any STDs?” Annie giggled from behind the jerk who had pushed me. I scowled, turning around, my heart racing. You’re being bullied. This is just pathetic, ignore it, I told myself. I wasn’t a kid. This was unbelievable. I turned and... “Fuck off,” I snarled, ignoring my own inner advice. “Asshole.”
The jock grabbed me by the collar. They were all pretty much bigger than me. I had shrunk upon growing younger, which sucked, especially since I wasn’t tall as an adult and now I was barely pushing 5’7. He had a cave-man expression, so I figured I would rather be small than thick-headed. At least I was smart. “You just swore at me?” he said, gaping at me and lifting me up a whole foot. He slammed me against the lockers, knocking my breath out of my lungs. I recovered quickly. “Yeah, big deal,” I told him. “You realise that with your attitude, you’ll get nowhere in life. Forget being a slave to the government. You’re a slave to the media, to this country’s ideologies, to popularity; I feel so sorry for you.” He cocked an eyebrow, confused. “Oh my god, like, what the hell is ‘ideology’,” Annie bitched as the bell rang. “Let him go, we’ll get him later.” I was promptly dropped. Red faced, I collected my books and ignored the jeers and sympathetic looks of the other kids, too embarrassed to do anything but flee the scene quickly and quietly.
The whole day sucked. I got beaten up after school; I was told to walk home because Gerard and Mauve were going to be home late. I was no match for them. I remained silent through the entire thing, refusing to run away or throw a punch. I had heard at the end of the day what had happened to Tara. Her master had hit her. People had gossiped about it; she had been beaten by her master for hitting Annie. It had taken every bit of self control not to hit back, but I didn’t want to share her fate if someone saw and reported us. Feeling very sorry for myself, I limped home and locked myself in my room, my situation starting to really sink in. Nobody would help me. I was just a slave, a freak, someone to be feared and controlled. I was lucky that by the time my foster parents got home, the wounds had healed. It was the first time that I realised I healed abnormally fast. It made me feel at least a little bit better.
I went to see the counsellor the next morning. I had seen him every day since coming here, but I had said very little the past few days and had basically sat there quietly. Mr. Edwards was patient and persistent, I found. “How are you doing today, Milo?” He always started with this, but he looked more concerned than usual today. I was feeling very depressed, and I suppose he had picked up on it quickly. I shrugged. He leaned back in his chair. “I’ve heard what’s going on. You don’t need to hide it from me. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Why don’t you tell me about it?” He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “For such a smart, attractive boy with such a vibrant charisma, you don’t strike me as the sort to be a victim to bullying.”
I was looking at the desk, but I glared briefly at him before looking back down. I felt my face growing hot. If I hadn’t been so angry, I might have made a joke or two about his comment. “I just stood up for her. I don’t understand teenagers. What the fuck do they want from me?” I said sullenly. Mr. Edwards must have secretly jumped inside that I was finally opening up a bit, but he tactfully didn’t really show it. He nodded. I continued, “There was this girl. Tara.” I saw his carefully neutral face change slightly. I read people well. He knew her. “They were being really rude about her. I just think that’s childish I guess. Tara’s really genuine. And I stood up for her. Yesterday, they beat me up after school. I never got beaten up where I came from, in my world. Sometimes I got teased, every kid does. But beaten up? Not me. I couldn’t do shit. I had to take it. I heard what happened to Tara...we’re worth shit here, I have no status, why do people even bother?” I looked up at him, my eyes blazing with anger. “This place is like something from another time. I did nothing to anybody. Why should I be forced to live like this? Why should Tara? Or even Annie and her bitchy friends? Why should I have to fear fighting back because my master might beat me the way Tara’s did?”
Mr. Edwards listened. A patient man. I could respect him, even though I felt embarrassed about my outburst. “You showed integrity. I can’t really answer all your questions about the world, Milo...but I can say that you can feel much better about yourself for having stood up for someone you barely knew. It shows that you have a rare personality and a maturity not often seen from people your age.” I didn’t reply. I looked down again, playing with my watch uncomfortably. He let me go shortly after.
When the miserable week was finally over and the weekend arrived, I waited to see whether my generally good behaviour in my temporary home would result in my reward; freedom to roam as long as I didn’t run away and stuck to my curfew. I had helped Mauve around the house, and I hadn’t engaged in any arguments with Gerard, which was difficult since he was an aggressive asshole sometimes. He had complimented me on doing so well in my first English test, which was a bit surprising.
It was time to finally see Tara. I was a little nervous; I hadn’t seen her all week, did she want to see me still? I pulled out my skateboard and locked the house up before I left. It was a little cold outside, and I was glad I had worn my black jacket. I loved fall. The way green gave way to a fiery mix of red, brown, orange and gold; the mist which came from my mouth every time I breathed out; the crisp, clear scent of the air. It was cold at this time of year. In California, winter was cold, sure, and people whinged about it, but it was basically summer compared to what winter would be like here. Californian winters were quite mild. It was a novelty to see snow somewhere other than on the distant mountains. A huge novelty. I couldn’t wait for the first snows, so naive was I about blizzards and wind chills.
It was early yet for snow, but even a Californian like me could smell it on the wind. Perhaps it was because of what I was; not human, that is. I set out on my skateboard, ignoring people on the sidewalk and keeping to myself, scattering leaves as I flew by. I relished the facade of freedom I had been given, but more than anything, I yearned to see Tara again. I was infatuated. This realisation had hit me during the week. She was always on my mind. Her scent stayed with me. I felt guilty because I was older, but also because she was older than me. I was confused. During the week, I had asked Mauve to take me to a doctor. Again I had been told the same thing; I was a healthy sixteen-year-old both physically and somewhat emotionally. Sure, I had been alive for thirty-three years and I had retained my intelligence and whatever world knowledge I had gained, but I was a victim of teenage hormones and petty little mood swings. Was this ‘crush’ unreasonable? Should I worry?
Nonetheless, I couldn’t bring myself to never see her again. Besides, she wouldn’t feel the same way about me. I was three years younger than her. When I reached Tara’s house, I immediately felt a bit horrified. It was definitely a shit shack; she hadn’t exaggerated. People argued somewhere on the top floor. A cat bit viciously into a small dog’s ear before chasing it, claws splayed as it jumped onto its back and began gnawing away at its shoulder bone. I carried my skateboard to the door and went inside, looking for the room. The smells and sounds of sex made me want to leave. Something was so... off... about this place. I found the door and hesitated, then lifted a hand and knocked gently. “Tara? It’s me, Milo. Hope this is okay...”
((OOC: I usually follow what season it currently is but felt like making it autumn. Sorry not my best post, so tired! It’s an apartment, right? God I’m passing out, sorry if it sucks, I need sleep.))
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Post by tessa on Feb 9, 2011 23:10:21 GMT -5
'That Tara girl', the other people in her building called her.
They all knew her by name because she was the one who lived there without taking on any ‘clients’. Sometimes the sounds that leaked through her walls disturbed her. But she had gotten used to them.
About 99% of the people who lived in her building dealt in sex trade, although they were not cheap or even, if it was possible, trashy. Just the building was. The men and women who lived there with her were good at protecting her from the scores of people who came through. Lots of men, and a few women, saw she was young and pretty and said they would pay a lot more money if she would sleep with them, but they always refused to even ask. ‘She’s not one of us, so no.’ Said one of them, ‘and if you bother her I’m calling the boys.’ There were a few men and women as well (though it was more menacing to call them ‘the boys’) who lived in the building and worked for the ‘mistress’, that were used solely for security and they were damned effective too. They also adored Tara, and sometimes the group would get together and watch sports or drink or play cards.
When Tara came home beaten and exhausted after that first day back at school, everyone in the building knew about it. Her security friends stopped by once or twice with food for Tara and with ice packs and pain killers (although with those someone monitored how much she got), and someone had stayed with her through the first night. Tara didn’t need all that but she appreciated the sentiment behind it and accepted the help regardless. Despite what anyone said, she enjoyed her life here well enough to feel safe and protected. But she knew, one day she would have to leave. This wasn’t the kind of life she was working towards anyway.
Tara looked around her apartment once more, in case there was something else she could think of to tidy it up. Everything was neatly and carefully stacked in their places, in drawers and on shelves that weren’t broken. Some cupboard doors in the kitchen still hung precariously off their hinges, dangling above the counter, but that couldn’t be helped. Neither could the dust encrusted carpets, or the walls nor roof that had been stained from neglect and smoke damage. She dusted off everything she could and tried to right the cupboards that had become loose in their hinges but it was no use. By the time she had managed to brush her hair and wash up, he knocked at her door.
“Oh! Come on in, sorry!” she ran for the door and pulled it open, smiling a bit nervously at her new friend. Before she hadn’t thought much about where she lived. She would gladly invite a human to see it. She wanted people to see the inhuman ways in which people with very human mentalities, with the same wants and needs as a human, was living. Before she had said, ‘fuck them and what they think of me and of how I live because they put me here’ but now she wondered if there was any way she could live better, for embarrassment more than the betterment of her condition. She blushed as she invited Milo in. “Sorry, my apartment is a shitshack I know, I’m sorry.” Why was she apologising? She had become much more nervous over the past week, and the less she had spoken to Milo the more worried she became as to why he showed any interest in her at all. He said he liked her, and not just because he wanted to fuck her, but then why else? Because she was interesting?
She didn’t feel too interesting, but there was someone out there for everyone wasn’t there? But the longer she spent not talking to him the more her brain had to wander and make up wild stories. She began to imagine that he might have been corrupted by Annie while Tara was off school. That he was laughing and jeering at her for where she lived and for being in such a desperate situation. She wasn’t even owned by a powerful or rich master. So there was cause for additional mocking. But now he was here, and she had never felt so nervous in her lifetime. So like anyone, she started off with meatless small talk.
“Um…” she started unintelligently, “so… yeah. How was school? Did I miss anything important?”
((OOC: no your post was just fine. I thought Tara deserved some pro's in her life. Figured maybe the 'whores' actually viewed themselves more as professional entertainers and let Tara live with them with no obligations while she goes to school, as long as she pays rent and everything. :3 I thought 'wow her life sucks. happiness!!' lol its not the longest post, but I hope its okay... any plot ideas? let me know in the Chat box or whatever. ^^ ))
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Post by Milo Ventimiglia on Feb 10, 2011 2:29:14 GMT -5
My face lit up as Tara opened the door. After a week without seeing her, I was worried that she might have forgotten about me. I had made an effort with my hair today, but it looked as punkish as usual, which I guess was just my style. Mauve had made me comb my tail out. “You’re not a cat, so I suspect you aren’t going to want to use your tongue and teeth to groom it,” she chided. “You also can’t go over to Tara’s place with fur out of place. You’re a civilised person; use a brush. All animals groom themselves. And brush your hair.” She tried to be a mother to me. Mauve and Gerard had fostered teenagers for brief periods of time before. None under the age of eleven. She was patient with me, and never raised her voice. The mature part of me appreciated what she was trying to do, but the rebellious, sixteen-year-old in me scowled and sulked about it, though I had the sense not to show it in front of her. They had talked about fostering another teenager, so I might have a brother or sister for a time. When I was eighteen, I would be allowed to move out, though I was also allowed to stay with them. I would be free to get a job and live my life, provided I came over on the weekends to help out as both of them worked a lot. It sounded fair considering my position.
Tara, it seemed, lived away from home. She wasn’t a minor anymore and her master was a jerk; I had heard about the beating, and it made me sick. As she let me inside, I mused that it was lucky she lived out of home. Despite the rundown look of the apartment building, she was far safer away from that abusive dick. I was suddenly nervous. I scratched my neck bashfully. “Hey,” I said monosyllabically. Come on, you can do better than that, I thought. “It’s fine,” I added. “Seriously, I don’t think it’s a shit shack, it’s your home, so it’s special.” Wow, corny much?
My first view of the apartment made me cringe a little inside. Luckily, I was an actor by trade, and I put my hands in my pockets and walked inside, looking around as though I didn’t feel some concern about her surroundings. I didn’t want to insult her, and I was a fantastic liar when I wanted to be, because lying is partly acting. I had grown up in a middle-class environment for most of my life. My parents, when Jackie and I were small, hadn’t had much money, but we had never noticed it. They had gone without to provide for us. They were young and making it on their own in the world. Not that their parents wouldn’t have helped out, but dad’s had moved back to Sicily just after I was born and mom didn’t like asking her mother for any kind of help. Her father, Mactíre, had disappeared when I was five. Anyway, I digress. Bad habit. Point was, my parents had worked hard and by the time we were old enough to notice, we were fairly middle class. When I was finishing high school, my parents were very comfortable. Not rich by any means, but they had a very decent income and while some years we had to budget, we never really went without the necessities and some holidays each year, usually road trips. So when I saw Tara’s apartment, I wasn’t really used to it. Even when my parents hadn’t had much money, properties were cheaper back in the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s; we had always had a solid roof over our heads and a clean house without broken things in it, plus furniture, even if it was second hand. My young parents had done pretty well for themselves even when scraping for cash to pay bills. The fact Tara was living in this shit hole was proof that our kind were second-rate citizens here. Dirty carpet which she probably couldn’t afford to have cleaned by a professional; broken cupboards, cracks in the walls, a musty smell that perhaps a human may have totally missed, but I could easily smell. It was certainly clean; she knew how to be hygienic, which is a serious plus for someone her age. Maybe I would offer to help fix some things around here. Little did I know that I had an older twin on this world who had done the same thing for his girlfriend.
“Not much,” I said, turning back to her after a very...and I mean very brief look at the room I was in. I didn’t want her to think I was assessing her place or anything. That would be totally rude. “An English test, but there were like, five people away that day, and the teacher said they can do a make-up test next week during recess. Sucks, right?” I shrugged. “I did really well. I can give you whatever answers you want, if you’re into cheating a bit. To be honest, I don’t really care, I’ve already got a high school diploma in my world.” I didn’t mention that I had been bullied during the week. It embarrassed me for a start, and I didn’t want Tara thinking she was causing trouble for me. There was no need to make her feel guilty, even though it wasn’t her fault; it was totally my own fault, because I was the one who had made the decision and I would stand by that decision always. “Hey, um, can I lean my skateboard by the door?” I asked politely.
((OOC: Plots...hmm. Well, conflict-wise, we have Annie and co. We could say they went out for an ice cream or some fast food or something and the bullies are nearby? Milo could shape-shift for the first time. He doesn’t even know he can. Or maybe leave that til later, I dunno. He doesn’t know any of his powers. Or he could see Tara shift.))
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Post by tessa on Feb 13, 2011 14:29:35 GMT -5
It’s your home so it’s special? Tara tried not to laugh at the poor boy. He was cute---very cute. She smiled instead of laughing and nodded. “Oh…well thanks then. I guess it’s not too bad.” She looked around however and grimaced inwardly. Yeah… it was pretty much bad. But he was trying to be nice about it so she didn’t argue for once. She heard some of the sounds stop and the silence in the apartment was odd…tense even. She listened and then heard raised voices, then shouting, then one of the ‘guards’ bursting in to the next apartment and threatening the person for payment. Tara walked over to the kitchen counter and flicked on an old radio. It was no wonder people thought she was whore, living where she did. She didn’t really blame them, and being a true adult now she tried to be patient. But when they all got together on her like they do and humiliate her for the sake of humiliating her… she can’t help but feel like a kid again. Secretly she hated school and if she had the time she would graduate early. However her master was actually paying for half of her schooling, and Tara was paying for the rest, by her masters sister’s urgings. Her masters sister, Danika, was a strong abnormal rights activist and Tara grinned every time she remembered the first time she saw Tara tied up to the bar counter on a lead just long enough to make it around the tables and back to the dish pit. Danika had made such a stink about it people actually got up and left without paying their bills, and others just sat there uncomfortably. Eventually he closed the store for the night, and managed to talk her down. Danika’s husband was no help to either of them. He didn’t like the idea of slavery but in a world where you had the choice to either have a slave and keep it, or have a slave and free it, was a personal choice and he wasn’t about to go and make a big deal about it. Eventually Tara’s master, Joey, agreed to a few terms. One was that he wouldn’t beat Tara. Number one had been broken a few times already (she still had the bruises from the most recent beating), as had number two; providing her with a nice, clean apartment. Number three had already gone out the window; Joey was not to use Tara for ‘entertainment’ at his bar. So naturally, Tara was both surprised and hesitantly delighted when he had adhered to the education portion of his deal. Danika had known Tara was trying to work up enough money to go, but there was no way she would have enough to start before she was twenty two, so she said ‘At least give her an education, everyone deserves that’. Tara suspected he might want her to do something more in the way of finances for the bar. She would demand higher pay. Or… at least a better house. “Not much. An English test, but there were like, five people away that day, and the teacher said they can do a make-up test next week during recess. Sucks, right?” Tara brushed a hand through her hair, which was naturally straight, and scratched the skin under her collar. “Right, the English test.” She said, having almost forgotten. Of all her subjects, English was possibly the worse. She could read and write okay, but just okay, and she was barely passing. But she would never tell Milo that. That she had to spend four of the five afternoons a week with their English teacher. It was not as if her father hadn’t begun to teach her to read or wright. But when he died, she just stopped reading and had no reason to wright and her masters never bothered to teach her. Every other moment that she wasn’t working or at school, she was reading or writing. Her teacher suggested she keep a journal to help her writing skills. There were at least five books hidden in her bedroom. She frowned as he mentioned giving her the answers. “No-- thanks. I can do it on my own.” She said coldly. She may have been bad at English, but she didn't need to cheat, and for a second seemed almost offended he'd offer. Even if he was being nice. She walked into the kitchen and looked for some pop’s or juices but all she could see was alcohol and coffee. He was underage but then people didn’t really care what abnormals did. In fact they made it all the easier for abnormals to participate in delinquency because it just reinforced the idea that abnormals were irresponsible and unintelligent, and would be lost if they didn’t have masters to guide them. It was all just paternalism all over again. What was this, the old south? Tara sneered. Her father had learned the true history of the world and of the United States and passed that knowledge on to Tara when she was young. Everything they taught abnormals and humans in school was modified to reinforce behaviours and methods of thought the government needed to keep the slave industry alive and well. So much had become dependent on slaves, if the slaves decided not to be slaves anymore the economy would collapse, worse even than it had during the first Civil war. The thing was, so many abnormals could barely speak English, they didn’t know any better. It was so easy to keep them ignorant and feed them lies. It made Tara sick. She pulled her head out of the fridge and smiled apologetically towards Milo. “I have beer and wine…and coffee. I’m sure I have tea here somewhere if you want some…I wouldn’t trust the water. It comes out this odd…yellow-ish colour…” she wrinkled her nose. How could she not have anything to offer him? No food either. She chided herself inwardly. Perhaps they could go out or something? “And yeah, go ahead and lean your board up on the door there... I used to ride once.” She mused, but that was so long ago. Tara decided against alcohol just yet, having carefully stayed away from it. She felt oddly exposed and wished for a second that she had chosen a more public place to meet. School Tara and home Tara were almost two completely different people. At home Tara was calm and quiet, almost shy. She wished she could uphold her school self but then she had had a long think about this earlier. She knew her school self was crude and unpleasant, and she really wanted to keep Milo around so chasing him off because she was too uncomfortable with her true self was a bad idea. Also, she would have been a terrible host if she had come off cussing the poor guy out right out of the gate. So she shook herself inwardly, knowing she would have to go out of her comfort zone for this one. Tara still looked like she had. She was still tired looking; her smiles were still underlined with something close to misery. But when she smiled at Milo at least it was an honest one. When he mentioned his diploma, she cocked an eyebrow. Interesting… because Tara had always pegged him as being a bit older than everyone else… “So…you have your diploma from your old world? How old were you back then? Like… were you some sort of mini genius?” OOC: Okay sounds good. Hope the post was alright. It’s a bit long… ^_^;
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Post by Milo Ventimiglia on Feb 14, 2011 21:41:54 GMT -5
My offer to give Tara the answers to the English test backfired on me. I grimaced inwardly at her cold reply, and I blushed, looking away from her for a moment, feeling kind of embarrassed. “Well I’m not saying I’m a cheat...it’s just...well I was just...never mind. I wasn’t meaning you were stupid or anything. I barely know you.” I said all this kind of quietly, so I didn’t know if she had heard me from the fridge. I looked around again a little more freely while she had her back to me. Even when I was trying my hardest not to think about it, our situation kept smacking me right in the face at the slightest reminder. Usually it was my collar rubbing against my neck; I had been told it would take time to get used to it. Or, it was Gerard being an asshole, or waking up in a strange bed with Mauve knocking on the door and asking what I wanted for breakfast before school. Tonight, it was the shithole that Tara lived in. I wrinkled my nose a little, wondering how the fuck someone could expect a young girl to live in such an unhealthy environment. I flinched at the sounds I could hear. Having such sharp hearing wasn’t exactly a good thing for me at times. People fucked next door and argued upstairs.
Luckily, I hadn’t been facing Tara when my facial expressions had revealed what I really thought about her home. I would have been mortified; to insult the place where someone lived and expressed themselves through even the smallest amount of décor was unthinkable to me. I turned back at the sound of her voice, welcoming the word ‘beer’. “Beer’s great,” I said, totally forgetting I was five years underage. I was very hungry, but she hadn’t offered any food and I wasn’t gonna ask for any, even if I was pretty starving.
I walked towards the door and leaned my skateboard against the door, then just put it down on the ground instead. Nobody was going to trip over it either way. I smiled at her comment, feeling even more attracted to her, and not just because she had once had a similar interest to me. The sharp-tongued girl seemed a little quieter here and less abrasive. I wondered how long it would take her to explode at something. I could be fairly short tempered, especially since coming here, but Tara had come off as completely hostile on our first few meetings. Did this mean she trusted me, or liked me, or was genuinely making an effort?
Her next question made me frown. I shrugged at her, noting the look on her face and wishing I hadn’t just opened my big fucking mouth. “Uh...well I did get a lot of high grades,” I admitted. I had been pretty smart in school, except in some subjects where I had been lazy and too busy doing other things outside school to do homework or study hard at all. I changed the subject quickly, evading her other questions. “Hey, not that I’m bagging your place or anything, but did you wanna go and get something to eat after? Mauve gave me some pocket money.” I rolled my eyes. “Since you invited me here in the first place, let me shout you an ice cream or like, I dunno, something else you like?” That explanation seemed like the easiest way to offer her something without insulting her pride. She was a slave and living in this crappy apartment, so I didn’t expect her to have a lot of money. I didn’t either; my credit card of course didn’t work here and I had only had a bit of cash in my wallet. The money Mauve had given me made the grand total of my finances around $100. I was otherwise completely broke and dependent on my ‘owners’. If Mauve gave me pocket money every month, then I could afford to buy a couple of things, though I intended to save the rest, get a part-time job as soon as possible and use the money to get the fuck out of this stupid place.
More shouting started up suddenly. I had tried not to react before, but it was hard not to look somewhat startled, especially when my tail fur rose slightly. I could hear someone walking through the hall, maybe unrelated to the screaming above, but I was so focused on the yelling that I didn’t actually expect Tara’s door to open. It smashed open, and a human (I assumed because he had no collar and smelled human) came storming in. He eyed us off, and I glared at him.
“Where’s the bitch?!” he thundered. “Where is she?!? Are you two hidin’ her?!” “What are you talking about?” I narrowed my eyes. “Geez, you can’t come busting into a woman’s apartment...” “Get the fuck out of my face, you little brat,” he snarled. “Or I’ll make you sorry.” The guy wasn’t much bigger than me. I felt I could take him. I wasn’t sure what Tara would think if I got into a fight...but of course, that thought barely crossed my mind through all the aggression building up in me. I stepped forward, my stance aggressive and my tail fur puffed up completely. The man promptly took out a knife and began to circle me. God fucking damn, how the hell could Tara’s master put her in a place like this?!
“You really wanna scrap with me, kid?” he smirked. “You’ve obviously got the wrong apartment,” I snapped. “Get out or I’ll make you get out.” I wasn’t even the kind of guy to get into fights, not even as a teenager. But now it seemed as though I was desperate to throw a punch. “Seems I have, she sure ain’t the bitch who gave me fucking Chlamydia." He jerked his head in Tara's direction. "I heard the girls here were meant to be clean bitches, scrubbed n’ STD-free, paid fuckin' good money!” “Maybe you got it elsewhere,” I suggested. “Since you couldn’t get a fuck looking like that from anyone unless you paid them!” Not my wittiest comment, but scathing enough. He lunged at me, and I felt a moment’s panic as he rushed forward.
Then I saw red, and I lost myself.
I grabbed his wrist behind his knife-wielding hand as he collided with me, then swung him into the floor. The knife fell to the side. I could hear his heart racing as he managed to get up. He came at me again, one hand grabbing the front of my shirt. I punched him in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him. Later, I would wonder why I hadn’t lost control while being punched and pushed around at school, and why I had with this man. “Going to kill you, freak,” the man panted. “Then your bitch. Fucking ****.” Filled with a blind rage, I slammed the man into the wall by his neck, my own heart racing. I could smell his fear and anger, hear the blood racing through him. It made me dizzy, and sweat beaded down my forehead.
Suddenly, I sort of came back to myself. I closed my eyes for a moment, aware that the man was cussing at me, but I couldn’t hear him properly. My heart thudded painfully loud in my ears as I dropped him and backed off. It took a few moments to regain my breath; I must have started to hyperventilate or something. “You should get out,” I told him. “Don’t think you’ve heard the end of this,” the man hissed. He exited the room, and I heard someone gruffly demand what he was doing in such a dishevelled state. An argument ensued. I listened as the man was hauled away, apparently to be kicked from the building and ‘blacklisted’.
I leaned against the wall I had damaged, an apologetic and confused look on my face. “S...sorry. I definitely owe you an ice cream now. I’m just...I don’t know what happened. I’m not usually that violent, I swear.” I looked at the ground. I had just acted like a sixteen-year-old with serious issues. It was so embarrassing. “But what a douche. Asshole can’t just burst in here, this is your house.” I wanted to ask about the locks and security on her door, but decided that would be tactless. “I’ll pay for the damage on the wall. Or better yet, I’ll come and fix it for you. Just needs some plastering, by the looks of it. And I’ll vacuum up the dust all over the floor.” I hoped she would agree and come and get ice cream with me. I didn’t know what I would do if she told me to fuck off. She had every right to. I had just acted like a complete antisocial jerk. I dared to look up at her, folding my arms across my chest and biting my lip.
((OOC: Meh not my best writing sorry, I’m hell distracted. Hope you don’t mind that I said the door was unlocked. I read up and it didn’t say that Tara had locked it again, so didn’t think you’d mind, well I hoped not. And yes Milo is more aggressive from being younger, but it’s also because he hasn’t transformed yet and has a lot of energy pent up. Even if he and Max are not at all killers and would probably fall apart if they hurt someone, they are still wild animals in a way and if threatened could lose control. Milo more so because he has never changed and hence will be unstable for a while as he grows used to shape shifting. Max grew up learning how to change forms anyway. Though I bet if anyone threatened Xara or his kid, especially while Xara is pregnant, Max would lose control as well. Also, figured the guy got the STD elsewhere and was blaming whoever he could. The pig!))
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Post by tessa on Feb 15, 2011 23:06:09 GMT -5
“Beer’s great,” She heard him say from the living room. Even though Tara had decided perhaps beer wasn’t the greatest idea... well, considering she hadn’t much else to offer him...
She went back into the fridge and grabbed a beer for him. No one really cared if abnormal drank anyway, she told herself. She didn’t get one for herself however. Tara lifted her hand to run her fingers through her bangs as she reached up into the cupboard for a glass, and then remembered that the beer came in a glass bottle that was specifically designed so you didn’t have to use a glass. Idiot, she thought, shaking her head gently.
Milo just... infatuated her. It was a damn near miracle someone had already gotten close enough to her that she would invite into her home. No one came into her home. Not even her master. Her home was her safe place, the only one she had, and even someone as dim and emotionally blunt as her master granted her at least that one freedom; the freedom to live without fear.... at least in one place on the planet.
“Hey, not that I’m bagging your place or anything, but did you wanna go and get something to eat after? Mauve gave me some pocket money.”
Why was he ignoring her questions? Tara wondered suspiciously. Who was this Milo person? Why did he already have a diploma, and act older than he was? Tara felt almost childish next to him sometimes, and then again sometimes she felt very much so the nineteen year old woman she was in comparison to a sixteen year old boy. Perhaps Milo was just an old soul, she thought.
Tara smiled at his kindness. She knew he must be thinking her house was a dump. She knew he could probably smell the mould and the dust. The old blood stains from before she moved in and some other...questionable scents. She placed his beer down on the coffee table with a smile.
“Sure I like ice cream, and its a nice day out today anyway...” For a moment Tara seemed happy. She felt happy. She was about to sit down on the couch and let her new friend finish the beer before they left, when her door burst open, sending her jumping backward.
She felt fear and desperate terror for a moment and could feel her heart thrumming wildly against her ribcage. She walked farther and farther back into the corner, eyes wild. What was Milo doing? No slave stands up to a human. Not unless they want to get beaten. Tara’s face turned crimson at the mention of the man’s disease and why he was freaking out on her. She just wanted to die. Wasn’t there enough of those kinds of accusations about her having STD’s at school? She noticed, shamefully, that her entire body shook.
She wished she was stronger. She wished she was braver, cooler. Anything other than a slave living in this slum of an apartment, struggling with the simplest of school tasks such as reading. She wished she was prettier, and that she still had her family. She wished she was somewhere else, anywhere other than here. She wished she had never brought Milo into this.
Tara blushed even further under her pale expression of horror and fear for Milo as he attacked the other man. Some underlying feeling of security and gratitude lingered and grew as he did, but she was worried the man might lash back with more fury.
“Going to kill you, freak, then your bitch. Fucking ****.” Tara was terrified.
“Milo.” She whispered, “stop, stop.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “stop.”
And he did. Tara opened her eyes, which were now red for some reason even though she hadn’t been crying. She watched, stunned and amazed the man just left. When he was gone, Milo looked a bit upset with himself. And so he should be, Tara thought. It took a while for her to get enough courage to move again and walked towards Milo. An odd silence hung between them. She forced herself to breath.
“Milo.” She said with a forced calmness. “I know you’re not from here. But do you know how fucking stupid that was?” she was quivering and clutched the back of the couch for support. But her anger came more from fear that he might get hurt next time. “You do NOT fucking ever do that to a human. Understood? They will kill you Milo. You can be terminated, put down without another thought and no one would care, Milo, don’t you get it? We’re slaves!” She threw her hands up into the air, realizing she sounded like she was giving up. But he needed to know. She needed to tell him. She wanted him safe. “And as long as you live here you have to realize that. You have to control yourself. Swallow your pride and just...” she sighed and looked down at her hands. “take it.”
((OOC: no problem! mines kind of bad too DX))
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Post by Milo Ventimiglia on Feb 16, 2011 1:21:45 GMT -5
I must have done something pretty wrong. Tara’s face was a picture of discomfort, no matter how calm she sounded. I stopped leaning against the wall straightened up, bits of plaster falling at the movement. The sound of a strong breeze outside filled the silence; even the apartment building seemed quiet. Is she gonna say something? I thought uncomfortably. Something clattered around the streets outside. A soda can, my mind envisioned. Flung around on the streets by a greater power, unable to do anything but ride along with it.
When Tara did speak, her level tone put me in mind of my mom when she was trying to be calm and not yell at me. Not that ‘calm’ ever lasted long; my family had a habit of being extremely loud when ‘discussing’ things. I flinched as she started to lay into me, and ran a stressed hand through my hair. I wanted to argue, but I stayed silent, my mind working furiously to come up with a comprehensive response. She’s wrong. The stubborn thought went repeatedly through my mind. Tara is wrong. She’s a fatalist. I’m going home, I’ll get home.
Everything about Tara’s body language scared me. She was angry, but she was afraid. I could...this sounds weird...but I could smell it on her. I tilted my head very slightly, the way a dog does when he is listening to his master or showing curiosity, but my movement wasn’t quite so pronounced. My eyes narrowed very slightly and my jaw tightened stubbornly.
“This isn’t about pride,” I said, knowing that was partially a lie. It upset me constantly to have to wear a collar like a pet or be treated with such contempt because I was different; it was true racism in all its abhorrent glory. “It’s about principle.” I stepped forward, using my hands to accentuate my words. “I’m not a fucking slave. I don’t care what the legal system in this fake world says. I’m not a slave, and I’ll get this stupid thing off my neck if it’s the last fucking thing I do.” I snarled the words out, my heart beginning to race again. “I’ll never give up. I won’t be told repeatedly that I’m worthless, and have fake fucking history shoved down my throat, and get told that...that I’m a freak of nature, that the ‘Devil’ created me and ‘God’s’ men must control me to keep peace. That by law, the man who thinks he owns me is allowed to strike me and zap me and fucking abuse and humiliate me without restraint.”
If Tara’s eyes were red, mine were worse. My eyes glittered with tears, mostly out of frustration. “I’m not saying my world was perfect. My world...it has all the gleaming, glorious possibilities for becoming a world just like this one.” My voice shook a little. “This experience has taught me that I’m not human and I never was. It makes sense to me now, and my parents have some explaining to do. And it has, above everything else, shown me that we can never show ourselves to the public. That we are hidden for a reason and we have been hidden for all this time for this very reason. I’ve studied those history books in detail, Tara. Not because I want to pass history, fuck school; but because I wanted to know what the hell happened. This isn’t my reality, or even my future. I don’t exist here. But it’s not far from it. In my world, in 2001, the twin towers were attacked just the same. Terrorism is a big thing. But nobody retaliated in that way.”
I paced back and forth as I spoke, my head hurting from a tension headache more so than having been punched and hit by the jerk who had just left. “Something changed history. And there is this reality and then there is mine.” I was standing a little closer to Tara now, but not too close. I felt tired. “I’m not from this reality. In my mind, I will never be a slave. If I ever learn to ‘swallow my pride’ and become humble and obedient, it will all be an act. It will be me buying time. I will free myself and then I will free you, and we will go back to my world, and I’ll spend time just...fucking making sure nothing like this happens.”
It was clear to me that there was no way in hell I could go home and resume my life as normal. I would pretend to. I had a career and I had bills to pay. I wasn’t rich like a lot of Hollywood actors. I still had money issues and unless I kept working, I would quickly spend my savings and fall into trouble, even though I didn’t spend ridiculous amounts of money and had a good saving ethic. My sister had recently fallen into trouble. I had to take care of Jackie; her husband had cheated on her and I knew he had been beating on her. We had been in the middle of court cases when I had come here, and it would only be a matter of time before I found the son of a bitch and broke his jaw for what he had done.
But, ‘normal’ as life would seem on the outside, filled with life’s dramas and monetary control, it wouldn’t be that way. I wasn’t human, after all. I had a tail which I would have to hide somehow. I could have it removed, but I had the feeling it would just come back. At that point in time, I had no idea that I had other powers, that I could change forms and control energy. I would have to make sure, along with helping Tara to fit in (provided she came with me and wanted my help) that what had happened in this world did not happen in mine. I mean, shit, if I existed, then surely others like me, or different species, existed in my world, too, hidden from the majority of the human race. And they were hidden for a reason.
I didn’t mention all of this to Tara. I kept these thoughts in my mind. Thoughts of mutiny against the government and social constrictions, and serious considerations for escape. She would not take me seriously, but I would do it someday, because fucked if I was gonna stay in this world and get spat on every time I forgot where I was and smiled at a human or scowled at when I went to buy something from the shops. Not all people were assholes, given, but a lot of them were. Too many for my liking. As long as I lived here, I would come to realise that they lived constantly in terrible envy of us. We weren’t like them. We had abilities they could only dream of. Their envy had turned into fear and jealousy, and now here we were, subjugated and powerless. I suppose having worked on shows like Heroes, I wasn’t entirely new to the concept of people with powers and how society might react. I was also smart and imaginative, and I would use that to get away.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. I kind of hung my head as well, lowering my eyes and scratching my arm as if I had just been told off. “I was an actor on my world, that’s what I did as a career. I have no excuse; I can pull the humble slave thing off. I just...I’ll admit, it’s a pride thing too, and a principle thing. It’s one thing to play a character on TV or in a movie; that’s scripted. This is real life. I guess I’m having a hard time accepting that this place is real and I’m not in a coma somewhere.” My voice and eyes softened as I looked back up at her. “But I want you to be real,” I admitted. I was silent for a moment, then continued, “But other than you, I’m going to pretend this is just a film. Easier said than done, but for you, I’ll make the effort. I don’t give a shit if they beat me, but I don’t wanna get you like, busted or something so...I’ll make an effort, alright?” I forced a smile, though part of me was up for a challenge. If I could treat this just like a challenge, a game, a test of my ability to act and also a test for my intelligence when I worked on escaping, it might be more bearable. And if I had Tara with me, then maybe again it would be bearable.
“Let’s go for ice cream,” I suggested very suddenly. Before she could respond, I picked up my skateboard and went out the door. If she wanted to follow me, she could.
Outside, the scent of snow was stronger. It wasn’t set to snow for another week, but it was definitely on the wind and in the distant clouds, which hung almost threateningly to the south-west. They hadn’t been there before. Nonetheless, the day was sunny. Not that I wasn’t sick and tired of the sun. This was great weather for ice cream anyway. I carried my skateboard and didn’t use it, because I wanted to walk with Tara. Maybe she was totally pissed off at me. But at least she came. It was a start. I didn’t feel smug about it; rather, I felt as though I should try to suck up to her, because I had probably been a real jerk just before. I wasn’t sure if I had or not; I didn’t really know her that well. “Over there,” I said sort of hesitantly, almost expecting to be scowled at.
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Post by tessa on Feb 18, 2011 21:47:05 GMT -5
“This isn’t about pride,”
Sure it wasn't, I thought. How could it not be about pride, just a little bit? Was my pride not smashed into the wall every chance a human, or abnormal who was higher in status, got? Of course it was. But we were slaves. That was all we were and we needed to be slaves or else suffer the consequences and quite honestly I would rather suffer through a lifetime of mild servitude or even death than what I knew the humans would do with Milo and I if we resisted.
Not that I had never thought about resisting. I just couldn't start a revolution, let alone one on my own. For something like this you need to surround yourself with followers. Who would possibly follow me? I'm just a bitch to them. I'm the human's bitch, thats all. And other abnormals have better reason than I to fear the consequences. Just the word itself is terrified abnormals half to death, mostly because of the vagueness of the term. It leaves too much to the imagination, and in this kind of situation where terrible things have happened and are already happening, its not hard to imagine what could happen.
I admired his spunk, though. That kind of asinine determination was the kind that my parents once had. I remember that. I know I had given up, but it seemed liked everyone else I knew had given up worse than I had. There was no use in beating a dead horse.
But I didn't get the feeling Milo was bullshitting himself the way I had. I had once been determined to escape but I gave up, mostly because there came a point in my life when I realized I was never getting out of this.
But Milo...
“I’m not from this reality. In my mind, I will never be a slave. If I ever learn to ‘swallow my pride’ and become humble and obedient, it will all be an act. It will be me buying time. I will free myself and then I will free you, and we will go back to my world, and I’ll spend time just...fucking making sure nothing like this happens.”
Milo said that. He actually said that. Wow. I was completely floored. I only stood there and stared at him. I had nothing to say that wouldn't sound completely idiotic.
Though I wanted to know what he was thinking. What does an overly hormonal, rebellious, adolescent, social-suicidal like Milo have to think about, I wondered for a moment. But the thing was...maybe he wasn't that stupid after all. I had always thought he was a little slow...a little dull in the head. But no. The things he said just then gave me something that I imagine hope might feel like. Sounds cheesy I know, but still its true.
“I was an actor on my world, that’s what I did as a career. I have no excuse; I can pull the humble slave thing off..."
An actor? He was sweet and all but he wasn't telling me everything. Dishonest people were trouble. People who were too honest were trouble to themselves. Fact of life. It sucked. I had suspicions about him but he was, despite all my fucking whining, a really nice guy and-- god help me---I trusted him.
I followed him out of the apartment and onto the street for some ice cream. After that little episode, Ice cream seemed a bit out of the blue... anti climactic.
"Milo," I said after he directed me to the ice cream shop, "Really. I understand where you're coming from." I reached out and placed my hand on his shoulder to reinforce my sentiment. He was willing to take me back to his home and pretend to be a slave, all for me. I hadn't expected that in the least, and I'll admit, he had my heart ready to melt. "But please understand where I am coming from. You have to watch yourself. You have to play their game. They don't always win."
That last statement came out whimpier than I intended, mostly because I only half believed it.
"You can escape one day, or buy yourself out." I assured him, "but not if you get in trouble with picking fights with humans."
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Post by Milo Ventimiglia on Feb 20, 2011 7:04:42 GMT -5
Tara had clearly given up. The way she spoke, it sounded as though she was merely humouring me. I stopped walking when she put her hand on my shoulder, cocking my head to the side slightly with an intense look in my eyes. I would have folded my arms if I wasn’t holding my skateboard, but I figured I was being defensive enough. I studied her for a moment, then offered her a half smile, even though I didn’t really buy what she was saying. Later? There would be no later. The only reason I wasn’t running away now was because I had no plan, no resources and well, duh, no way to get the fuck back through the portal which had unceremoniously dumped my ass here. No shit!
“Huh well, I’m an impatient sort when it comes to games,” I said offhandedly. I started walking again, looking around at the myriad of colours represented by the near onset of winter. Fall was my favourite season. Well, okay; I thought every season had something to offer. But fall was magical. We had a lot of evergreen plants back home, but we didn’t lack for seasonal forests, and I loved to see the various shades of green in amongst a fiery mix of gold, orange and brownish red. My sister and I had always been given the duty of raking leaves up in the yard, and we had spent way too much time chasing leaves and pushing each other into the clumsily formed pile of dead leaves. For a moment, I was almost happy, and more than a little disoriented. I shook the feeling of dread and loneliness away forcefully. It wouldn’t do me any good right now.
The ice cream place was a large store set between a hair salon and a Chinese takeout place. The little strip mall stood in front of the same lake that lapped the south edge of River Birch High School. It was a pretty place; trees, grassed areas, shaded benches and a walkway. People walked their dogs, kids played, a couple bickered heatedly. It seemed so normal. A façade. I frowned a little, shoving my free hand into my pocket. I fished my wallet out and walked with Tara to Hawkeye’s Ice Cream Parlour, entering and standing in the queue behind a bunch of raucous kids. “Fuck face,” a young teenager spat at his friend, who gave him the finger. They both laughed, and a girl with them rolled her eyes. “Asshole.” “Abnormal!” “Eww, that’s way worse!” The girl screwed up her face. “You guys are like, so retarded.” “Your vagina is a retard,” one of the boys snickered. It was my turn to roll my eyes.
The guy who owned the ice cream place leaned over the counter, one eyebrow rising. He had shaggy greying hair which was slightly curly and reached just past his ears, and a pair of thick eyebrows. It was hard to tell how old Hawkeye was; I had the feeling his hair had always been that odd mottled grey-brown colour, like a bird’s plumage. Despite his apron which depicted a happy kid eating ice cream, he was a formidable sort. He also had a collar on. I had been here a few times; I felt comfortable coming in, because he didn’t look down at me or spit at me.
Hawkeye curled his lip back slightly in a snarl. “You kids,” he said gruffly. “Clear off.” “Err, freak, you can’t tell us what to do!” “This is my store, I own it. Clear off!” His voice came out harsh and irritable. His eyes, which were golden, seemed to grow lighter and more feral for a few seconds, and his strong scent wafted towards me. Like Tara, he had the most interesting scent. “Now!” “Fuck, I’m never coming here again,” a kid scowled. He stormed past us, followed by his buddies. “Yeah, lost business,” the other boy said vindictively. When they were gone, Hawkeye growled under his breath. “Yeah yeah, like a bunch of little social conformists are gonna lose me any money,” he grumbled. His eyes suddenly rose to stare at us. “Well, you want an ice cream or not?” “How are you doing?” I asked him, approaching the counter. We had only met a few times, but I liked him. He had been a bit scary at first, but he was genuine and seemed normal compared to everyone else. “Good good. Listen, kid. You ever want a part time job, you come and see me. I could do with some help around here.” “If my guardian lets me,” I said, delighted by the offer. “I’ll be sure to ask. Hey, thanks man. That’d be fantastic.” “Yeah yeah.” He nodded his head up and down. I could see he was pleased, even if he didn’t really want to admit it. “Wanna try some flavours?”
We picked our ice creams, and I paid for it with the little money I had. Of course, I didn’t want Tara to know I was poor, so I said nothing and paid without grimacing or complaint. I felt as though I owed her the ice cream anyway. Hawkeye gave us two scoops for the price of one, which helped. With Hawkeye distracted by new customers, we went outside to sit on one of the benches near the river. I ate my ice cream in silence, looking out over the river, my shoulders hunched a little. With Tara so close beside me, I began to think some more. I really, really liked this girl. So much that I would do anything to impress her or please her. This was wrong. She’s too young for me, I thought, wanting to close my eyes and shake my head, but I didn’t. Had she been in her twenties, it might have been different. But she was nineteen. I was over thirty, and quite frankly, I was pretty sure I would go back to my normal age once I got home. Of course, I hadn’t even thought about this properly. I half figured I’d be human again and just wake up from some coma. Maybe I had fallen off my skateboard and hit my head. Damn, this whole situation was fucked up.
I stood up with my ice cream and sort of paced back and forth in front of the bench. “So what do you think of ol’ Hawkeye? Well, I think he’s probably only around thirty or so, but he just seems so gruff. I know he’s a softy, though.” I shook my head. “I can’t figure out his age. He’s pretty awesome; I bought you there because he’s just refreshing, y’know, not an asshole. The dude needs a haircut, like me.” I was trying to make light of things. I ran a hand through my hair. It looked okay for a teenager of course, but I felt like a real dork. I was beginning to smile some more when the couple who I had seen arguing before came striding past. One of them was holding a bright red leash, and on the end of that leash was a little yapping terrier dog of some sort. “My path!” The dog snapped its jaws at me, then growled. “I bite! Move!”
Did the dog just talk to me?!
Looking down at the dog in surprise, I couldn’t really think of a reply, other than: “Wh...what?” “Hey, loser,” the man holding the leash said harshly. “Leave my fucking dog alone. Freak. Weirdo.” “The dog just spoke to me,” I said, still surprised. I would consider it a bit later, and suddenly, all those voices I could hear all the time would make sense to me. Animals; they talked, I could hear them, and they were everywhere. Squirrels, birds, dogs, cats, racoons, deer! “Let’s go,” his wife or girlfriend or whatever said sourly. “Come on Richard, seriously, we need to get home and sort this out.” “When freak boy gets out of my way,” he said, hostile. The woman sighed. Richard stepped towards me. I could do one of two things. I could hit him in the face, because he was maybe my size and probably a total coward. Or, I could back off.
I chose to back off. After the conversation I had just had with Tara, and the promise I had made to her, I had to swallow an immense amount of pride. I had seen slaves act subordinately. It wasn’t in my nature at all except when it came to my dad or a respected teacher or something, but what was the point of acting if one can’t act? I muttered an apology, lowered my eyes, a thing that I had noticed seemed really important around here, and sat back on the bench. The dog moved to sniff at my feet, and the man jerked the poor animal away roughly. I nearly got up and wrapped the leash around the human ****’s neck, but I restrained myself and chewed at my waffle cone, feeling very agitated. “Hah, look at that, must have been well trained,” the man jeered. “Think we can teach our kids to behave like that?” They moved away. “Hey, I oughta find out who his master is and send our brats to them, ‘cause I’m not dealing with their tantrums...” “I’m sick of always being the bad guy! You need to take some responsibility!” the woman snapped. Another argument followed.
My face was bright red. I was almost too afraid to look at Tara, so I kept eating my cone. I was thoroughly embarrassed and didn’t want to make a big deal of it. It was the first time I had ever bowed down to a human here. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to do that for very long. I was too stubborn. I finished my cone, savouring the chunk of chocolate right at the bottom, then looked up, trying to think of something to say to Tara that wasn’t related to what had just happened. A familiar scent came to me all of a sudden. I tensed up. The assholes who had been pushing me around and taunting me at school were heading right towards us. “Great,” I hissed under my breath. “The cock squad.” They were, of course, headed by Anna. The little whore had spotted us. Fan-fucking-tastic. I wasn’t in the mood for this shit right now. “Should we just leave?” I asked Tara. I hoped she didn’t detect the anxiety in my voice. I really, really didn’t want her to know that they had been giving me a hard time in school over her. It would just prove that she was right and might even show how I felt for her.
Anna paused in front of us, putting her hands on her hips and posing like a stereotypical teenage bitch queen. She blew a bubble and it popped almost angrily. Wow, the stereotype lived and breathed through her, right down to her belt...whoops, that was a skirt...and her face, heavily caked in makeup. “Omigosh. Who have we got here?” Anna smirked. The guy who usually shoved me leered at me and made a punching motion with his fist. I didn’t flinch, which was probably what he wanted, and he blinked stupidly. Wonderful. This day was just getting more and more colourful.
((OOC: I kinda figure Milo won’t go back to ‘normal’ if he goes back home. Nope, he just has to grow up all over again no matter where he is. Might have to have him go home for a short amount of time just to demonstrate the fact that he won’t go back to his real age and that it’s not a dream, or he may never feel comfortable being with Tara. Figure the collar on his neck would sadly drag him back into Tara’s dimension after a short time. Could make an interesting RP. Hawkeye, despite his name, transforms into an owl, and quite a large one at that. He might have a pair of wings he keeps hidden under glamour too. Not sure yet. He looks fairly young despite his greyish hair, which is actually like bird feathers. Very soft and downy if touched. But very messy! I think I’ll have Milo go and work for him for a part time job. That way he will have a bit more cash to throw around. Not a lot, but something for him to save. And do things with Tara too.))
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Post by tessa on Feb 21, 2011 6:01:49 GMT -5
I don't think I have ever been so disappointed in myself as when Milo spoke to me. I knew then that he must have thought I was some sort of--of a loser. You know; pathetic. I lowered my eyes to the concrete beneath my feet and looked down at my toes and sighed gently. How was there any way I could convince him I wasn't? Because I was a loser. I was a slave who had given into being a slave. What was the point in resisting? I mean honestly, what was the point? There wasn't a point, there was only slaves and masters, and was the bitch at the end of the leash. They owned my life. How could I possibly resist that? Milo was such a greenhorn in that way, and one day he would become a loser just like me. Just like every other poor bastard who had given up, like me.
Though another part of me argued that he might have a better chance than I ever had. I didn't wan't him to become a loser like me, or a slave like me. I wanted him to try to escape, and I wanted him to succeed. What I didn't want was for him to get killed or horrifically maimed, like I feared he might.
Luckily he didn't seem to think too badly of me, anyway. He still wanted to go on our ice cream date. I wouldn't call it a date outloud, but yeah, it was one. The fall was always my least favorite of the seasons. But the colours were fantastic. All of the trees greens, yellows and oranges. The flowers which were almost dieing, but still full of colour in pinks, and blues. I could tell that winter was coming soon. I'd lived here long enough to know the sky was too crisp a blue colour to be innocent.
The wind was too brisk.
So why were we having ice cream? Because its fucking yummy.
I got a flavour of vanilla-coffee mixed in with some sort of chocolate candy bar. The cones were fantastic. This guy owned a great shop. I managed to ignore the idiots who were there when we arrived. The shop owner was badass too. I eyed him up and he gave me an unimpressed look. But there was something about us shifters that made us connect. He shrugged it off, but I knew he was a good enough guy already. Sounds rediculous, but I don't only shapeshift. I can 'see' aura. Yeah it sounds silly. This guys was the classic avian-shifter starlight, like mine. Milo's was an earthy colour; brown with green, and his scent was damn near irresistable, from what I could smell.
Aura's vary from person to person. We all view them differently I guess. It was never really explained to me. Maybe no one else knows?
After the ice cream, I started to relax. I was having a relatively good time. The river was nice to look at and the sun was warm on my face. I think I caught myself smiling shyly in Milo's direction a few times. He was only three years younger than me. I guess it would be okay...I mean, its not like anyone could possibly look down on me anymore than they do. Seriously. Three years wasn't much. It was much between a 19 and a 16 year old but in three years, when he was 20 and I 23, it would be nothing.
Right?
I liked my lips and nodded with a smile at Milo's question about the shop owner. "He's cool." I said simply, smiling at him. I saw the humans coming as I answered and thought they were going to clear off. I tensed and wondered if Milo was going to cause them trouble. But he didn't, which made me grin even wider.
I placed my hand on his knee. "There. I know it sucks, but you can't go through your entire life here fighting all of the humans. You just need to go for the life sucking fucking bastards who matter."
"Great, the cock squad."
I turned my head to see who he was looking at. Anna.
I shared his distaste for them, and I shook my head when he suggested we turn back. Perhaps I was trying to be less of a loser.
I reached Anna and cocked my head to one side.
"Omigosh!" I sneered, and Anna snorted with a roll of her eyes. I lowered my voice, "Back the fuck off, twink."
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