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Post by Aubre Ellen McKenna on Jan 22, 2014 6:30:33 GMT -5
The departure from her home had left her slack-jawed. The earth seemed to be covered in a blanket of snow. In truth, as this had taken a lot of preparation and she walked past this park every day, it should not have come as a surprise. Absorbed in her own thoughts, as she always was, the redhead had not noticed. It made her a bit worried. The noises of the ice Pokemon working through the night had been forgotten. In her neighborhood, which was nearly always busy, it was hard to distinguish one noise from another. The second something clattered against her window, which might be the steps of expensive shoes, the redhead shot up. The influence of her nightmares reached over seven-stories high. It seemed her ears were lacking in some self-preservation instincts.
Work was less than an hour away. The trainer had little time to marvel at the sudden change in weather. She had to go! If she didn’t, and was tardy again, she might end up unemployed! Then she would end up homeless. Her Pokemon might starve. Why had no one ever reminded her how much powdered snow looked like ash? The jacket around her shoulders was pulled tighter; . Aubre felt rather odd, with snow upon the ground, to walk out in just a sweat shirt. Would her nose freeze off? Was the thermometercorrect? Her chest swelled as she held her breath. It was not too cold outside. Her body still repressed a shiver.
A Mudkip and Helioptile, right on her heels, followed closely behind their diminutive little trainer. The younger Pokemon resisted her urges to play in the snow. Her mother had promised they would do it later! Serena was ready! She was patient. The ebony eyes seemed to glow with future mirth.
Aubre as going to be late! Where had all these people come from? Everyone insisted on getting in her way. Her manners allowed her to be swept away by people. Somehow, pushing herself and her ever-aching back, she stumbled in fifteen minutes before her clock-in time. “Sorry—“, the red-head felt pushed to apologize. The boss, used to the odd apologies, waved the girl away with a grunt.
She went to work.
Less than two hours later, Aubre was heading back towards home. No pink slip lay between her scarred fingertips. Tears did not spill down freckled cheeks. “Why couldn’t he have just called and told me to pick up lunch—doesn’t he realize I don’t have a car? ” Fingertips disappeared into her over-sized sleeves. The wind had kicked up a bit; the temperature seemed to have cooled. The only sign of the winter-wonderland, surrounded by greenery, was a Pravus-colored banner swinging above the street. Emerald eyes focused on it for just a single second. The sign was rather pointless. The snow, already turning to slush at the edges o the park, was just a few feet ahead.
It felt strange to walk through snow again—it made Remoor feel like a foreign land. The last time she had seen it was over three years ago. She had been walking between classes during the holiday season in Hoenn. Someone threw a snowball at her head. Her lips pulled up in the tiniest of smiles at the memory. For a moment, dark green eyes sparkled. Had she laughed at surprises back then? Crunch. The worn old tennis shoes, nearly sending their owner spilling onto her sensitive back, were not made for slippery weather. Backpedaling, her arms turning like a fan, the young trainer stopped herself from spilling onto her side. “Shi—“ She bit her tongue. A child was nearby. Recovering, staggering on the ice, Aubre continued. If she broke a bone here, by being clumsy, her boss would fire her for it—the man would say it was her fault.
“Come on Serena---“ The Mudkip frowned reluctantly. Bounding away from the snow, with the saddest expression, the water-type followed. The Helioptile was still asleep upon the counter at the store. Aubre wished he had come along. This place, with its cold edges and hidden ice-types, was beginning to make Aubre nervous. She took a tight left toward a series of tiny shops and restaurants. These establishments were old. This place was familiar.
“3214 Marigold….” Standing before the restaurant, a small little thing, she pushed inside. Adjusting her hoody, tugging at the tag scratching incessantly at her neck, Aubre moved toward the counter. The person behind it looked scary. Forcing her legs forward, knowing her miser of a boss was waiting, the McKenna girl timidly stepped toward the register.
Her voice was quiet. This place was busy. She did not want to interrupt anyone. The man seemed busy. “Hello---my boss sent me here for his order. It should be under Dougal. T-there’s really no rush. It’s a long walk back.” Realizing she might give an air of flippancy, Aubre quickly amended herself. “I’m just tired—that’s all. “ Looking around the restaurant, noting its features, Aubre attempted to create goodwill. “You have a very nice establishment here—sir. “ The smile felt forced.
A fin waved below the counter. “Hello! Hello! Can I have a free sample! Everybody else is giving them out—everyone.” The Mudkip was hungry. Seconds later, scooped up by her ‘mother’, the water-type was overwhelmed by the smell of shampoo and deodorant. Pulling a face, taking a deep breath, the tiny thing calmed herself. The mischievous eyes lifted. Serena grinned.
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Post by Hugh Wells on Feb 3, 2014 15:42:46 GMT -5
AND I SAID HELLO, AUBRE THE BUSINESS WAS FLOURISHING, yet where success came in, hard work also came along with it. Hugh was the manager of the bustling restaurant that was similar in offers to Lesterfield's Lounge which was located on the other side of the city. When he wasn't in the cramped windowless office cramping his fingers with small pens and elaborate signatures, and counting bills.
No, today he was playing the role of cook and waiter, for what else would he do with his free time when the business was open and he was caught up with his manager duties? A fiery chicken could also be seen bustling about the restaurant with trays in his claws, a unique red and black orb hanging around his neck fashioned as a necklace. Hugh passed a note with neatly written orders to the head cook behind the counter and set to work wiping the counter with a dish that smelled of bleach and lemon.
The man of roughly twenty five stopped behind the counter and looked at the quiet, young woman that looked as though she was ready to say something. A friendly smile graced the man's features, "Hello, how can I help you?" He asked before listening to the woman's request. Her boss had sent her out here and according to the woman, it had been a long walk. The lady's boss could have at least offered him his car, or the fee for a taxi cab. "Under Dougal? Okay I'll bring that right out for you, feel free to have a seat. Would you like anything to drink? Hot cocoa, coffee? It'll be on the house." Although unsuccessful with the ladies, Hugh would never hesitate to offer a helping hand to a woman.
Hearing the light voice Hugh looked down at the small blue creature with the likable smile. "A free sample for a little guy like you? I'll see what I can do." He spoke and he would try to find something suitable for the creature to munch on. Before the man turned around to see if the cook had finished the order for 'Dougal', Hugh noticed something familiar about the woman, or rather the garment she was wearing as a hoodie. Huh. The man paused as he studied the worn jacket that adorned the woman's body. Tracey, the man's Blaziken walked over to the counter, his claws clasped to his hips as if he possessed some form of authority. "Hey, Tracey, do me a favor and check with Frankie to see if the order for Dougal is ready for pick up." The Blaziken nodded before disappearing through the door that led to the kitchen.
Hugh stood behind the counter, his expression contorting into one of confusion. "If you don't mind me asking, where did you find that hoodie?" His brown eyes could see the fading initials 'HGW', now unless that was the logo of some foreign brand of vehicle, there was no doubt in his mind that those initials stood for 'Herald Gerald Wells.' The only time that the man had given one of his own beloved hoodies, (as he had a fondness for hoodies, especially when he got them specially made with his initials), was to a young girl whom he had stumbled upon during an apartment fire, the poor girl body had been badly burned. The last he had seen of that girl was watching the back of an ambulance disappear down the street, racing towards the nearest hospital.
"I'm almost one hundred percent sure that the hoodie you are wearing used to belong to me."
He stated as he heard Tracey returned with a large plastic bag that held Dougal's order and set it down on the counter. "Something wrong Hugh?" The Blaziken asked as he observed the woman and the little Mudkip, Tracey reached under the counter and offered a cookie that smelled of peanut butter to the mudkip before looking back to the woman that wore his friend's hoodie.
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Post by Aubre Ellen McKenna on Feb 8, 2014 5:59:34 GMT -5
HUGH XX AUBS From one bustling locale and into another; it was like finding the shallow shore and an immediate drop in a lake. A lake filled with monsters. The lake was likely filled with piranha—not the vegetarian kind, either. Hungry Carvanha. Luckily for her, as this was just a metaphor, no one looked like carnivorous fish. It just didn’t help her nerves to dive into a group of strangers. In fact, racing around town and battling with crowds, was not much of her break. A pink slip made a strong muzzle.
This restroom did not immediately terrify her; none of these patrons seemed to pay her much mind—she was just a bit plain. A face in the crowd. Then again, considering her normal level of anxiety, she might have been about to bolt. Staring out at the windows, watching the wet snow melt into a barrier between winter and tropical, Aubre just frowned. This sudden change in climate was difficult to wrap her mind around. Was it even snow if it didn’t fall from the sky? Precipitation had to fall first, right? Shaking her head at herself, not watching her little blue companion, Aubre scolded herself. This was meant to be a wonder! Why couldn’t she just enjoy it—instead of comparing it to dandruff or bleached bones?
Turning slightly, hearing the sound of claw on tile, Aubre watched the Blaziken walk by. Her eyes widened—it was not because he was a fire-type. “A m-mega stone—“ Some of the Kalosian students in her class, there were a few, had talked about the rocks. They were extremely rare. What did it feel like? Why wouldn’t it activate now? Did it hurt? Tempted to sate her curiosity for a moment, feet sliding forward, she finally noticed the species of the Pokemon. Blaziken were fire-types. They were dangerous. Watching the ‘waitress’ move from table to table, only made it harder to resist. “Don’t pester people.” The words were just a mutter. It’s a bad idea—if they were in the mob, they might kill you..” Satisfied with that, aside from the occasional side-long glance, she returned her attention to Hugh.
In truth, when he spoke, she had nearly left her skin and jacket crumpled upon the floor. Shock rippled across her face in apparent waves. Where had he come from? Did he have her order finished? What had he said? “J-just ask…” Taking a deep breath, staying out of reach of the giant, she just nodded. “It’s under Dougal, y-yes. “ Her cheeks flushed. She was just ungrateful; the man had offered her a job, out of the kindness of his heart, and she whined about him to strangers. “O-oh, really? There’s no need. It’s very kind of you--” Was Serena trying to make her into a beggar? Coffee would leave her bouncing off the walls. Hot cocoa, which she always burned her tongue on, seemed out of place—the snow was across the street. “N-no, thank you, it’s alright—thank you—because I said ‘no’ and just—thank you.“ Another tiny smile. Fingertips gently picked at a frayed thread.
Her throat was dry. A water fountain was just down the street! She wasn’t a beggar! Why would he offer ? Would he even be in business if kept this up? Aubre wouldn’t contribute to unemployment.
Green eyes began to roam for a seat. Strangers crowded many of them. Legs were stretched out, like spider tendrils, between chairs and floor. The open seats would require a battle into the center of the room. The chairs didn’t look comfortable. She didn’t want anyone to move on her account. Her throat was oddly dry. Was there poor humidity in this restaurant? Fingertips pulled the front of her jacket open slightly. It was a bit hot. “I’ll stay here—it shouldn’t take long…” A pause. “Or it might—I don’t really cook! Don’t rush for me, please.” Shoving this citizens aside, like an angry bull, was beyond rude. Aubre would wait.
Aubre was watching a family in the corner. The little girl had said something. The redhead had stared. It wasn’t because it was bad, the words were familiar. That kind of inquiry had been her modus operandi when she was little. It drew up a sense of nostalgia. Scarred fingertips began to trace the jagged edges of the hoody—it truly felt nothing like what she wanted: the hand of a family member. It would just have to do, for now. The tag, in the shifting, had flopped onto its back like an upturned turtle. Jumping just a bit, realizing he was speaking to her, Aubreturned to him with a suspicious frown. “I know it’s not really very pretty anymore—and it’s a bit bi—“ Her eyes widened. What did he mean? This was hers. Fingertips tightened in the comforting cotton.
The letters had just become a code-name for the hoody. When her initial searches had not turned up her good Samaritan, “Almost a hundred percent- “ Realizing her bitterness was ridiculous, it was just a piece of cloth, Aubre flushed.
“Some gave it to me—a while ago.” Her fingers folded in her lap. Her back wilted a bit. She liked to try and pretend that night had never happened. It was all a nightmare. Maybe, like she deserved, Aubre slept in an asylum. It was better than facing the truth. Just like wearing this tattered thing was better than being honest—with others. “So..it’s..yours…? “ Flushing a deeper color, finally realizing who this man was, Aubre murmured quietly, “I guess you don’t want it back--?”. The old thing looked like road kill. She tried to laugh. Tears lay at the corner of her eyes.
She remembered his shoes. His shadow. Had he said anything ? Her mind, while the ambulance approached, had been repeating something: ”It will be alright.”
Liar.
Dark eyes stared down at the Mudkip. The little amphibian just continued to smile. Long-lashed eyelids gave a slow blink. Her mouth split into a wide grin. “See! Free things!” Watching the man dig, with an expectant grin, her face soon fell. “Oh, maybe later—you have to be patient, Serena. Like a zombie..” Turning slightly, watching the kitchen in wonder, the water-type found herself enthralled. Those cooks were really fast!
Paying no attention to anything else, being totally engrossed in her cookie, Serena completely missed the seen behind her. She loved peanut butter! It was delicious!
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Post by Hugh Wells on Feb 17, 2014 14:09:50 GMT -5
AND I SAID HELLO, AUBRE THE GIRL WAS NERVOUS, that much the man could tell. Had he said something to frighten her? Did he look frightening? Why, he couldn't help it the way Arceus had set his genes! Puzzled, the man stood behind the counter, curious towards the identity of the mystery girl who wore his hoodie.
He had not given his hoodies away to any one else in his lifetime expect for the girl who had been brutally burned by the apartment fire. "Positively certain then." He stated when saying almost one hundred percent wasn't enough to satisfy the customer. A nod was given to answer the woman's question that the hoodie had belonged to him at some point in time. Chocolate brown eyes observed the state of the hoodie, tattered and patched in different places. It looked as though it had been to hell and back.
"No, no you can keep it."
Hugh wasn't the kind of person to give someone something as a gift and then asked for it back years later. "But..." He began as he gave the hoodie another once over. "You seem pretty attached to it. Would you..would you want me to give you another one?" He asked out of pure generosity. "I have tons of hoodies, some that may even be more comfortable than that one." He couldn't imagine why the girl would want to wear the old tattered thing around in such a manner. He knew that the hoodie probably held memories but would it hurt to get it fixed up a little bit, refurbish it maybe?
The Blaziken shifted behind the counter looking at the female customer and her pokemon who seem to be delighted by the peanut butter flavored cookie. The fire-type had remembered his trainer speaking of the girl he had helped all those years ago, occasionally wondering with his trainer about what had become of the young woman. "So, uh the food's here. It's getting cold, so if you guys need me to heat it up at all, let me know?" The rooster spoke before offering another cookie to the mudkip before making his rounds around the restaurant.
Hugh had not been able to forget the day he had managed to help someone in need. When no one else had bothered to dial three simple digits, he had done just that. He did not know the woman's history, nor did he know how she had ended up in such a predicament. All he knew was that she needed help and he was the only person around to give her that help.
"So, what's your name? I'm Hugh."
The man introduced himself for their had not been time to introduce himself all those years ago. He saw himself as a friend to the young woman even though she looked at him with wary eyes and spoke with uncertain words.
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Post by Aubre Ellen McKenna on Feb 19, 2014 15:47:11 GMT -5
Aubre was nervous the majority of time. Her heart was rarely at resting level; being unable to hear its beat in her ears, a sign that she was both alive and prepared, likely made its rate increase. The only times she was not nervous were the following: at home, teaching her class, and wrapped up in training. Even in sleep, which she avoided when she could, her mind took her down dark and meandering paths. This restaurant, with this strange man looking at her, did little to put her at ease. A dog could walk in at any moment. It was public. It was exposed. His appearance didn’t scare her; it was more of what someone that large could do to her.
The area had been clear of debris and smoke. It had only been her corpse, lying in a puddle of oil and muddy water, that smelled of char. It didn’t fit in peaceful setting. She felt like that right now, out of place. Peering nervously at Hugh, tightening her grip on her sleeves, the redhead shivered. A single tear rolled down her face. What did he think of her? He knew. She tried to hide it, that night, but he knew. He had seen her like that: a desperate and frightened animal. “I s—see…” The hoody was hers. With it htough came the fact that he was there. Why wasn’t she happy? Why couldn’t she, instead of being an ungrateful wretch, just show him how thankful she was? It was the same words, quieter and a bit defeated. “I s-see.” A weak smile followed. “It’s b-better than being negatively certain, I guess.” The jacket was a bit embarrassing. It was the sort of thing the old AUbre, who had never lost much of importance, would have thrown away. She would have given it to a Pokemon to line a nest. This one, like it was a life raft in a stormy sea, clung to its tattered edges desperately.
It had outlasted the flames. Fingers gently massaged the old thing; bits of black and fuzz came off in her fingertips. When he said she could keep it, her fingertips reemerged. The rapid tambourine of her heart slowed down. It was less frantic. “T-thank you.” She had no idea what she would do without the old jacket. Her head refused to move to meet Hugh’s dark eyes. It felt violating somehow. His offer drew her eyes up. “It’s just not the same—“ She laughed a bit. It was wet. “It h-has memories—not only the bad ones.” A little protesting shrug. “It’s a very kind offer, though, sir..”
Had anyone else passed? Aubre could vaguely remember sounds in the alleyway. Had someone paused to watch, like a vulture, as she struggled for air? Had a predator, or stray Pokemon, waited for the death of a meal? She truly remembered little bit the brush of soft cotton and the indistinguishable muttering of a deep baritone voice. ”It will be alright.” She hated anyone who might have said that to her; they were dreadful liars—worse than she was. Her name was whispered between nervous movements. The food was forgotten. “ Aubre…” Hugh. Was that the name of a hero? It wasn’t the kind she had imagined. It was strange seeing her imagined hero, which looked nothing like the waiter, standing before her. “My name is Aubre McKenna.” He seemed so at ease. Why didn’t he feel like she did? Nervous. Angry. Exposed. “Thank you, for what you did, that night.” Some part of her felt there was little to be thankful for, just more misery.
Friends? Aubre would have used a different words. He was a savior. He was a hero. She just could never choose the word friend. Green eyes, fighting with various emotions, met his briefly. He had saved her. He had damned her. She would be dead if he hadn’t saved her. Her parents wouldn’t be. “It’s very nice to meet you.” Hollowed words from a somewhat hollowed soul.
She had forgotten her task. It offered an excuse to leave—to avoid all of this nostalgia. “O-oh! The food is done. I do need to get back to work..” A chair beside her screeched across the floor. Little feet thudded into her lap. Something slid across the tabletop. Aubre nearly jumped out of her skin. “S-serena! Get down, please. ”
The Mudkip continued to eat the cookie. The adult words were far over her head. The second cookie though, hearing words of gratitude, was scooped into the water-type’s mouth. She clambered onto the table, with a lot of clatter, distracting Aubre. Standing upon the table, dropping the little round of peanut butter, the Pokemon smiled. “Thank you, Mister!” She nudged the cookie towards Hugh. Turning towards Aubre, raising an eyebrow, she shook her head. Didn't her trainer know any manners?
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Post by Hugh Wells on Feb 23, 2014 11:18:19 GMT -5
AND I SAID HELLO, HELLO Why wasn't he bothered with meeting up with the woman who had once been knocking at death's door? Perhaps he was simply trying to do his duty as a honest Samaritan. Or perhaps maybe he was a fool.
The man had not known how the woman had ended up in her predicament all those years ago, nor did he wish to ask her what happened (as some nosy people may have done). He only nodded simply when the woman voiced that the hoody, although tattered, brought memories. He could only imagine. Yet, he wasn't one to cling to the past like it was a final lifeline. "I'm sure it does." He responded with the slightest of frowns.
It had really dawned on him that he had saved this girl's life. If he had not stopped that day, would she be six feet under somewhere with a faded tombstone lying on top of her grave? Would she not be standing before him today, doing something as simple as picking up a lunch order for her boss? He had done this for the woman, but unlike some people, he did not ask nor want anything in return.
That night had been silent except for the occasional bark of a canine Pokemon in the distance. "Aubre." He paused. So that was the name of the form damsel in distress. "It's a very pretty name." He smiled kindly to the girl. It sounded like the name of someone that a cruel person would take advantage of, and little did Hugh know, he couldn't be more right. He didn't connect the dots with her last name being McKenna, a surname that could so easily be connected with the president of the government.
The young woman was thanking him for that night that had happened so long ago. "No, you don't have to thank me." He responded quickly. "It is what any good hearted person would do." It was true. Any other good person could have came by and helped the woman. Hugh had took no note of her burns then or the state she was in, he had simply called for the ambulance and had told the woman that it would be alright.
Had he been wrong? No. Not quite.
The man smiled still, "It's very nice to meet you again as well." The conversation was cut short when the woman reminded him about the reason she had stopped in the establishment in the first place. "Oh, sorry about that." He turned around looking for the plastic bag that held the plastic trays of food only for it to be handed to him by Tracey. "I kept it warm." The bird responded before heading back into the outer part of the restaurant.
Hugh set the bag on the counter. "If that'll be all..." He spoke before looking to the water pokemon as she scrambled on top of the counter. A soft chuckled rumbled from the man. "Why thank you little one." He reached down and pet the pokemon on the head, "but this cookie was meant for you, so why not take it home as a snack for later?" He suggested as he nudged the round of cookie gently back with a finger towards the pokemon.
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Post by Aubre Ellen McKenna on Feb 24, 2014 5:58:23 GMT -5
In truth, aside from her parents, Hugh had been the only entity stopping her from becoming a permanent hermit. Then again, if not for this dark-haired man, she would be dead—probably. It had been past curfew. The campus had been a place of ghosts and criminals, and luckily for Aubre, this law student. Just as he refused to ask her about what had happened, likely assuming she was some sort of delinquent, the redhead would refrained from asking why he had been out so late.
While he reassured her that he understood, comprehended her reasons for clinging to a tattered piece of black cotton, Aubre’s mind detected disappointment. Was he looking down on her for what had happened? The school had circulated so many rumors after that attack. “It wasn’t my fault—I was just, well, maybe it was. Just a bit--” Hands drew across old burns on her arms. The somewhat fatty limbs had been jammed into the mouth of a dog that night. “Someone attacked me, a friend. I was just walking home...” He had not asked. She just felt compelled to say something. “T-thank you sir, for the offer. I just hope, once this fades away, that my time for it will be over—though it is a very lovely jacket. I am c-certain the others are t-too.“ Time supposedly healed all wounds, right?
It had done a shitty job thus far; she would just never insult Dialga or Celebi by saying so aloud. Time had done as much damage to her as hope. It just seemed to make her parent’s loss more acute. The ache of her back more severe. Her inability to move on more debilitating. ”It’s stupid, I know. It's a coat.”
As tears continued to fall, seeming to drag her down with them, she became more torn. Some part of her wanted to hate her savior. Would she not, if he had just walked by like all the others, be at peace? Would her back not hurt? Would her mother and father be happily attending some silly party? Would they still care if she wasn’t there? These were the questions that haunted her nights to come.
She stared at him for a moment. It was certainly, not likely at least, a pretty person he saw. Charred, ruined, torn asunder, and abandoned were likely far more apparent than her names. No matter how she scrubbed, Aubre could still fancy that her body smelled vaguely of smoke. “T-thank you, sir. Yours t—“ Shaking her head at that, clumsy words for a clumsy person, she hastily corrected herself. “I like your name as well.” Hers was not creative in the least; it had just referenced the locks given to nearly everyone in her family in the past hundred years. Maybe they should have found a word that meant ‘blind’. A person who looked in the mirror and saw only their worst faults, such as the monstrosities on her back, could rarely see the truth in the most simple of kindnesses. Compliments made her bitter The lack of recognition, or mention of her last name, was also gratifying. The mutant truly disliked being connected to Ethan as well; her uncle was not a cruel man—he just made it hard for her to fade into obscurity. What had she done to deserve people’s spit and ire?
In her mind? Anything was possible.
Would she have done it? Aubre knew her mother and father would not have hesitated. Hands dripping in blood, as they held the poor battered corpse. Was she too cowardly? The old her would have called the ambulance and likely rode to the hospital. She may have even crafted a bouquet. This broken thing would likely vomit, clumsily dial the dispatch, and end up quivering in a bed. “I wish it was, truly.” Many people would have put their own welfare first. “I would have been too afraid—“ Tap tap tap. She had thought those footsteps those of the angel of death, returning. “I truly mean it, thank you.” Even if she herself was bitter, as she had destroyed her second chance with vengeance, the girl knew he deserved gratitude. “Even if I came out worse for the experience.” Whoever said pain made you stronger was either an idiot or truly sheltered.
Bangs that were far too long, she had not trimmed them in months, flopped into her eyes. He shouldn’t apologize! “It is quite alright; I feel bad for interrupting you.” This conversation was awkard. Smoldering flesh and cheeks laid out for the world to see—again. “At least it is under better circumstances this time.” Would the bag burst into flames? Hesitating for a moment, staring at it warily, the girl pulled the plastic from the man. “I am relieved it is under better circumstances.” Her own stomach grumbled with hunger.
The bag was large. Why on Earth did her boss need four boxes of food for lunch? Aubre knew none of it was for her, it never was. Nodding her thanks to the Blaziken, reminding herself that fire did not necessarily equate hell-bound demon, the redhead awkwardly remained.
It was not as if she could meet this man and just depart. Was she not supposed to kiss his feet? Hug him? What was proper payment for the person who had saved and destroyed your life? “T-that’s it—“ The ending was hesitant. Her eyes distant as she tried to remember something else.
The Mudkip , frowning a bit, took the cookie. “..’cause momma said thank you and it was meant to be a gift—but snoozer’s losers…” The crumbs scattered across the table like ashes.
Aubre just continued to wrestle with bigger questions. Why had this meeting happened? What did it mean? Why did her boss want four servings of white rice? “He said he paid for it already….” Was that what he wanted?
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Post by Hugh Wells on Feb 26, 2014 15:33:53 GMT -5
AND I SAID HELLO, HELLO The man had not asked why the young woman had ended up in such a predicament for it was none of his business. Yet, for some reason Aubre felt compelled to at least a ounce of her troubles. However, hearing the reason caused surprise in the man which was evident by the way his eyebrows arched and his chocolate eyes widened. "A friend attacked you?" He echoed. Well now, that wasn't much of a friend now was it? Although Hugh barely knew Aubre, he probably would have done something to the friend that had dared to harm a poor young girl like Aubre. Yet now, years in the future, there wasn't much he could do about it unless Aubre ever needed a lawyer in court or something of that sort.
Hugh smiled gently at the woman. "No, it's not stupid." He assured Aubre, hoping that she actually believed his words. She seemed like a nervous woman, and he was sure that she had good reasons to be the way that she was. "We all have things we cling to for support, so don't worry." He spoke as he looked down at the girl.
It was the first time that the man had experienced nostalgia it was an interesting experience. Where the past tangled with the present and reminded you of the things you had once been a part of at one point in time. As he looked at the bag, filled with full meals (he hoped it wasn't all just feeding one man), he thought of something. "Before you go..one second." The man said and he moved away from the counter, hoping that the woman wouldn't scurry out the door with his back turned.
For some reason he had a feeling that nothing in that bag was meant for Aubre, and she seemed like the type that would rather starve then ask for something to eat. So, the man had sent in a word to the chef to make another full plate with a slice of cake and even a few extra peanut butter cookies for the little Mudkip. The man would place the plate neatly in another plastic bag and bring it out to the woman. "It's on the house. Don't try to return it to me, or say that's okay. It's the least I can do." He spoke as he sat the separate bag down on the counter.
A smile was given to the little Mudkip, an energetic and happy little creature. Why couldn't the water type's owner learn to be like her? Carefree and jolly? Hugh shook his head at the thought and looked back to Aubre. "Feel free to stop by anytime. I'm always here." He assured the woman. He wanted her to know that he wasn't an enemy. He wasn't something that would come up and about in the night threatening to slit her throat. No.
He was a friend.
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Post by Aubre Ellen McKenna on Mar 1, 2014 5:33:57 GMT -5
The word attacked sounded so harsh. It failed to convey the truth of the matter. It was too gentle to those who adored Aubre. It was far too cruel to those on Leon’s side. The villain had his reasons—though the man had never confessed. The ice blue eyes had twisted into fiery rage due to some sort of provocation. The redhead preferred to think it was something that left her at fault. She could prevent that. Her own behaviors were easily changed. It was difficult to prevent an action without any foreseeable cause.
The redhead instantly regretted her admissions. “Well, yes, though many would n-no longer call him a friend. I wouldn’t—though I bear him no ill will. It was just a mistake..“ It was difficult to equate Leon, who had sat in her classes, offered polite laughter to her jokes, with the one who had turned her to cinders. The monster in that alley, a demon in the guise of another, was no more her friend, than this woman believed herself to be Aubre. “I think I angered him—or his mind snapped. Something he might not have been able to help. Maybe.” Justifying it makes you feel better, doesn’t it? Less lonely? Idiot. Her thoughts were ignored. “I just, I didn’t want you to –t-think it was anything illegal happening—on my end..” Aubre did not want to give him a poor impression—just in case he had a chance to save another unfortunate girl.
The hoody was nearly dismantled on a weekly basis. Little needle sharp teeth, from the Helioptile, tugged at it stray threads. The fish threatened to end its misery with a blast from a toxic attack. The majority of her Pokemon, who knew little of what had happened, thought the hoody hindered her growth; the two loud-mouths, Alister and the Dragalge, thought it was just funny. Aubre did not necessarily believe Hugh. The redhead would not be rude, however. “T-thank you.” His words left her with questions. What did a strong man like this cling to? Was he just attempting to soothe her? Aubre had lost her parents. Her own spine, once rigid like the rest of her family, had begun to waver in the slightest breeze. “I think, in truth, we all do—or at least I do—maybe I’ll remember how to stand for myself again, figuratively—I can obviously stand.” The rough cotton, dark grey and warm, left black cotton upon her fingertips. It was just fabric. It still helped.
How a single person could devour this food was beyond the redhead. Her appetite, at best, was that of a bird. One evening she half-expected to return from her lunch to find her supervisor, stomach distended beyond comprehension, a pile of rebellious and overworked intestines. Awkward in her patience, shifting her feet beneath the table, Aubre watched the dark-haired man depart. “Yessir…” Curious emerald eyes followed his distorted reflection through the pots and pans. “I wonder what he’s doing..” Had he forgotten parts of the order? If it would not insult his competence, the redhead may have unfurled the pyramid of Styrofoam. When she was out of sight, in the snowy embrace of the park, she would likely double-check the order.
With her luck, it would splatter all upon the concrete.
The trainer would rather starve, than acknowledge a need for food. If cooking would not take minutes, which she no longer had, Aubre may have placed a tiny order—certainly not for cake. It smelled heavenly in here—the charred meat could stand to depart. Her eyes showed confusion as another bag was thrust towards her. “I can’t take th—“ Hugh had seemingly surrounded her thoughts. The dark eyes turned sad for a moment. “You’ve done far more than the minimum—“ Her words could not convey the twisted, knotted, leaden ball in the pit of her stomach. “Thank you.” Two little words that sounded meaningless. Hollow. Empty. What could she do to repay him for this supposed debt? The moths flying from her wallet would likely do little.
Her boss might not like the additional package; it went against the rules. Could she manage to eat the cake before arriving at the store? How much time did she have? Little doubt, if she brought the cake home, the man would ask for half of the food. It was like paying the Gogoat paying a tarrif to the troll beneath the bridge. The hoody disguised the hands nervously wringing the tired plastic bag. Clutching her gift to her chest, Aube was relieved it was truly impossible to form the same attachment with a piece of carrot cake. “You really are t-too kind of a man...” Such an open and trusting heartw would get him hurt—or killed. It was far simpler to jab a blade into the unsuspecting than the wary.
Where had Serena gotten her character? The little amphibian had learned from another Aubre—the rare one that came out to play on special occasions. The tiny smile did not reach the woman’s emerald eyes.“I will try..” These emotions were overwhelming. Lingering for her a moment, staring at the restaurant, the redhead ducked outside.
The Mudkip, humming the song of some new show, followed faithfully.
Ting, ching, ting! Would it be wrong to believe, for just a moment, that the noise was a good omen? It sounded like a happy bell.
(This thread, by my accounts, is finished! It was fun, Rende! We will have her find a way to pay him back!)
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