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Post by KREET YRIO on Aug 25, 2011 19:36:35 GMT -5
There was no denying it, she was tired.
Tired as sin.
Staring out the window of the bus, she felt her mind beguine to drift, and her eyelids grow heavier. Trees and mailboxes and other town-ee looking things flew past the window, she didn't notice any of them. She was far too lost in her own mind, the world behind her eyes, the one where she found so many amusing little nuances. For now she was picturing herself on her motor bike, tossing in and out of traffic as she was known to do. She knew it was stupid, hell, even riding a bike in the first place was stupid, but she couldn't help it. Just like the cigs she smoke, just like the life she'd lived until then, it gave her a high. The faster she went, the greater the high, the more the adrenaline hammered in her veins.
In and out of cars, between cars, between an eighteen wheeler and a bus, onto the shoulder. Stopping never once crossed her mind. She was going fast, why would she stop? She was utterly untouchable, stopping would just mean... well... stopping. Suddenly she found herself on an abandoned road, wide open space before her. Yeah, a few rocks littered the road, threatening to tip her balance, but who cared? She was going fast enough, she'd just fly over them. Twisting her wrist, she shifted gears, opening the throttle the entire way, the bleak scenery around her passing in a blur. She didn't know her crappy second hand Yamaha had this kind of power to it, but clearly it did, and she was going to take all advantages of it. Alas, her joy at this speed was short lived as suddenly the road was gone from beneath her, and she was falling. She didn't even have a chance to scream, the ground hit her that fast.
With a gasp and a jolt, she woke back up, her head slamming painfully against the widow. "Son of a bitch, you mother..." Rubbing her head, she finally recalled where she was. Glancing around she saw people looking at her. A grimace crossed her face, and she returned her eyes meekly to looking out the window, a slight pink tint filling her cheeks. Good going, good going, your a real smooth one, aintchya kree kree?. In the reflection of the filthy window, she could see the image of the couple in the seats across from her lean in their heads to each other, and throw her dirty looks. Now she was tired and humiliated. Wonderful. Feeling the bus slow, she glanced up, and took a gander at where they were. It wasn't quite her stop, but it'd do, it'd do very well.
Hopping up, she took her large laundry bag out of the overhead compartment, and quickly exited the bus. Now that she was standing, she felt slightly less likely to fall asleep on the spot. It also helped that the day was one of those that felt more like fall than summer. Closing her eyes she took a quick breath of the air (inhaling a good amount of bus exhaust), and started off in the direction of her destination. Keeping her head down, she watched her sneakered feet as they nimbly avoided the sidewalk cracks. Even though her mother was long gone, and she was all of a year away from exiting what was officially considered childhood, she couldn't help but play the old game. Not only was it superstition, but it was something to keep her entertained for the three blocks until her destination.
The walk took longer than she expected, especially with the heavy bag of laundry slung over her shoulder. About twenty minutes after leaving the bus, she made it to her destination. If it weren't for the coolish weather, she'd of probably been sweating. Talk about out of shape... yeesh. Pushing through the door, she grabbed a few generic baskets, and went to an open washer. Flopping the bag onto the ground she opened the draw string and fished through the mass of fabric, finally locating her soap and massive bag of change (she never, ever spent quarters, and every chance she got, she exchanged a dollar for some). Plopping a few quarters into the washing macheine, she chucked the majority of the bag into the wash, along with some soap, and shut the lid.
As the thing began to whirr, she went back into the bag, and grabbed a book. Scooting her stuff out of the aisle way, she hopped up atop the machine adjacent to her own, leaning back against the wall and closing her eyes for a second. This, was infact a terrible terrible idea. A second turned into a few minutes, and a few minutes into however long until she was disturbed.
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Post by BOSTON THOMAS SULLIVAN on Aug 25, 2011 21:38:36 GMT -5
Boston readjusted the basket from one hip to another. His load was light. Living on the road had taught him to become resourceful, so he had only kept what he needed. And as the sun's rays warmed his face, he felt a little better about having to go do his laundry. It was so typical Boston to forget to do laundry until he ran out of clothes. He literally was wearing what he was wearing yesterday, and it was embarrassing.
When he reached the town's laundry mat, he wasn't surprised to see it pretty full and most of the machines already taken. Sighing, he dumped his clothes into his regular washer, which was usually never taken. Conveniently, all of his clothes fit in the machine. He didn't really care if they mixed colors; it make his clothes more unique. Looking around, he didn't bring any soap. Of course I forgot soap! he shouted at himself. Assertively, he strutted to the soap dispenser and bought a cup full for his load. After carelessly dumping his soap and running the washer, he took a deep breathe and leaned on the washer so his back was facing the wall.
Across from him, he can see a girl sitting on top of an empty washer, looking rather stressed out. Putting the palm of his hands on the washer, he spoke up, "Are you okay? You don't look so good..." Hopefully he didn't sound too rude. He was just curious why she was so ... not happy. It was a nice day out and the Fosters had given them a good lunch... nothing really to complain about.
Sighing, he heard his machine buckle a little. Turning around momentarily, he shoved his machine up against the wall, to re-align the machine. It had always done this; it was really annoying. Boston refaced the girl, leaning on the machine and crossing his legs and arms. He watched the girl intently.
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Post by KREET YRIO on Aug 25, 2011 22:36:29 GMT -5
She was dreaming again...
Luckily, this time, it wasn't so obtrusive a vision. This time it didn't feel like she was there, but as if she were sitting down watching a tv screen. On the screen, pretty colors glitzed and glided, her eyes following them pleasantly. In it's deep REM state, her brain wasn't quite sure what it was seeing, all it knew was that it was enjoying the vista. Dance and swirl and glitz and glan, it went round and round, the colors behind her lid playing out a lovely little show for her as she slept. Somewhere within her peaceful revere, a small disturbance stirred...
the feeling of a presence...
the hearing of a voice...
Slowly, her eyes flickered open, and she blinked multiple times. It took her a moment to register that she was staring down at her own lap, and her neck was starting to hurt a helluva lot. Drawing in a sharp breath as consciousness completely hit her, she sat bolt upright, her book falling on the floor with the drowned out sound of paper on linoleum. Her sudden movement drew a groan from her as her back gave an evil twinge of stiffness. Automatically, one of her hands raised up to rub at an offending spot of her left shoulder as her eyes finally caught up to their bearings and she saw the reason for her awakening. "Oh god, I've fallen asleep and woken up in Hipster-hell." The words were barely mumbled, and she was blissfully un-aware of the fact she spoke them at all.
Giving up the attempt at loosing the knot from her back at that time, she settled for rolling her neck and hopping off the machine she sat on. In a voice that she hoped was pleasant, but sounded more than slightly sleep addled, "I'm just fine, thank you sir." As he seemed to of forgotten about her in the throes of his washing machine, she turned to her own wash, and saw it had stopped already. 'I must of been out for a while.' Sparing a moment to run her hands over her eyes and wipe away any running eyeliner (more a habit than anything, she'd not applied makeup that morning), before opening the washer and hauling the wads of wet cloth out to toss in the dryer. After filling this machine and starting it, she turned back to her near-depleted sack-o-cloths.
Normally, she wouldn't have as much laundry to do (as with the guy, it was her entire wardrobe), but as of late, moving meant she had little to no access to appliances. Appliances she would want to use anyways... The last town she had traveled through had a laundry mat, and the place was the kind you couldn't move a foot without hearing a roach crunch. That had been about a month ago, and since she had gotten here not too long ago, this was her first opportunity to actually clean her laundry. Before that day, she'd just been tossing baby powder and baking soda on the armpits and hoping she didn't smell too badly. Scented lotions were her best friend. Currently, she was waring a baggy grey shirt with the neck line cut out so it fell over one should, jeans, and a pair of run-down sneakers. The kind of clothing that one wore for these kinds of tasks.
Picking up her back, she dumped the rest of it's content into the washer, and started it. Discarding the bag atop the machine, she saw the guy was looking over at her. Whilst most would find his continued observation 'flattering' or would chalk it up to him 'being worried about her', she found it irksome. Though she had spent time as a stripper with men's eyes ogling her every angle, she found people looking at her un-nerving. Perhaps it was her thinking they would figure out something about her, or perhaps it was because of the afore mentioned ogling.. either way, she was never a fan of it. Unconsciously, she reached up to once again rub at her sore neck. In a tone that was very thinly veild as pleasant, she said "Can I help you?"
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Post by BOSTON THOMAS SULLIVAN on Aug 29, 2011 23:11:35 GMT -5
He was a little worried that he had upset the girl. She was grumpy and mumbling things when she woke up. Oops, shouldn't have woken the baby. he joked to himself. "I'm fine, thank you, sir." she added. His theory was proven. Boston propped himself up unto the washing machine he was leaning on and watched as the girl loaded up her laundry. Her attitude was certainly snappy... but he couldn't blame her. With the Fosters around, there were several locals that had gone over their edge with all of their control.
Although he wasn't sure if the girl had been in the community long, he couldn't help but recognize her from somewhere. After a moment or two, he had traveled to a trans-like state while he thought about the Fosters and their recent posting of the General Announcements... he was to meet a girl to live with. Now if he could only remember their name. Did it start with a C? Or may be it was K? He remembered that it sounded something like Creek. Kreet? he questioned in his mind. It was an odd name to him... but then again, his name was Boston.
"Can I help you?" her voice interrupted his train of thought. Boston realized he was staring off blankly into space in her general direction. Oh how embarrassing.... he thought to himself as he snapped himself back into reality. Perhaps this girl new about Kreet? "Actually yeah. Do you know a Kreet? I read the Fosters' General Announcements and I'm supposed to be moving in with her." His voice trailed off and he awaited her answer. Hopefully she would be of some help since lately she had been a little cranky.
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Post by KREET YRIO on Sept 5, 2011 16:29:42 GMT -5
'A little on the edge about the fosters control' was putting it mildly. On the one hand, having some sort of structure to her life was a welcomed change, but on the other... She was about to loose her mind. She would give ANYTHING for a larger meal than what they were providing. Granted, the meal sizes where that of what most people ate (when on a diet), but she was far from 'most people'. In fact she was probably the skinniest fat person someone could ever meet. Though she was used to meager meals when her bank account called for it, she wasn't currently hurting for money, and so she was forced to just stare jealously at the extra cash that could be turning itself into two Micky-D Double Macs, and a giant fries.
This food addiction of hers was part of the reason she had so few possessions, and the majority of her worldly possessions could fit within one giant sack... Just like jolly Ol' St. Nick. Pausing for a moment in her neck kneading, she had to struggle to keep her face strait. Her brain was a terribly terribly weird place that day. Forcing her self comparisons to santa clause from her mind, she returned to the presence and to this... interesting character that had randomly popped into her world. Even though she had asked the guy what he was looking at, she was only partially listening to him as he began to speak, and instead had her mind on returning to her perch atop the washer.
As luck would have it, she did finally catch on to what he was saying. 'Do you know a Kreet? I read the Fosters' General Announcements and I'm supposed to be moving in with her.' This... this... hipster was Boston? This was who she was going to be moving in with? Sharing a house with? She would of continued the thought longer, and turned the thought into an out loud rant, if she had not suddenly become aware of the fact she was mid motion at the time. In one of the slow motion 'oh shit' kind of ways, she felt her hand slip out from under her. "Son of a b.." With those galliant words, her hand completely slipped off the machine and she fell, hitting her head against it hard enough to knock her out.
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Post by BOSTON THOMAS SULLIVAN on Sept 5, 2011 22:49:02 GMT -5
Boston had jumped when he heard her head hit the machine. It was so loud, he was actually scared and shouted, "Oh shit!" Un-crossing his legs and arms, he scurried his way over to her. She was lying still on the ground. "Oh my God, oh my God..." he began to ramble. His hands hovered over her body, not sure what to do. If he picked her up, she'll probably punch his lights out. Cocking his head up, he saw that a few other people had noticed her fall.
"Don't just stand there!" he yelled at them, but they didn't do anything. They just stood there and stared. What the hell? Are they high?! he thought to himself. Shaking his head, he focused his attention on the girl. "Oh jeez... what am I supposed to do when someone is unconscious?" he muttered to himself. By now, he was rocking back and forth on he knees. Boston was desperately trying to think back to when he attended a first aid class a few years ago. He then remembered to tap the person gently on the shoulders and speak loudly to them. With a little hesitance, he tapped the girl's shoulders with some force and shouted to her, "Hello! Can you hear me? Are you awake?"
With no response, he had to think of something else to do... The medical center isn't far from here... he thought to himself. He put on a brave face, scooped his arms underneath her and got up. With his feet marching, he addressed the Laundry Mat owner on his way out. "I'm going to take this girl to the Medical Center, since you were too lazy to call them. In the meantime, make sure no one steals our laundry."
The girl was heavy, considering the fact that Boston wasn't strong. Jesus, this girl can certainly pack on the pounds... he thought to himself. In a few seconds he was already doing a weird limp walk to get to the hospital quickly.
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