Vincent Tram
NEUTRAL
Everyone has their own way of seeing. Some see the finer things or they just don't look.
Posts: 44
|
Post by Vincent Tram on Oct 20, 2013 13:56:04 GMT -5
Poking didn't work due to him not being conscious enough to feel it. Screech on the other hand, was a loud sound even if done quietly. It would wake anyone one up and it certainly did for Vincent. He shot up with his hands over his ears, trying to block the sound off. His head was hurting now due to a combination of falling down and the screech being used on him presently.
Roko had laid down on his stomach where he was at with his ears pinned against his head. He didn't like the sound either. Raising his paws, he put them on top of his ears to hold them in place to hopefully drown it out. It wasn't working either. Once the noise stopped, the both of them removed their hands or paws from their ears. Vincent let out a sigh as he rubbed the back of his head due to it hurting a little.
"Sorry...for making a stupid offer like that to you." Vincent said as he looked at Aubre but soon looked at the ground.
He thought the offer was okay to make. She clearly wanted to go into the University again but was just too scared. And Vincent was tired of having that large dorm room to himself and his pokemon. It felt lonely in there for some reason, lonely and empty.
|
|
|
Post by Aubre Ellen McKenna on Oct 26, 2013 0:58:45 GMT -5
(Please do not reply for 48 hours)
Poking did not work.
She waited. Three beats of her heart, exaggerated with anxiety, passed.
Aubre gave it some more time.
The redhead was flustered. She made an idiotic move and went to remove one of her other nonexistent Pokémon. This was dangerous for two main reasons: it revealed to this stranger that she was nearly defenseless and made her look like an idiot. The redhead regretted, even with Lenore breathing down her neck (or staring in mild disapproval), rushing to leave the house.
Ears close to the scalp. Shoulders hunched forward. Fur raised along a sinuous spine in a series of peaks. Whiskers drooped slightly downward to indicate a frown. The order was not something Arthur seemed overly cheerful about. While h enjoyed to chatter, as long as you did not overly frighten him (most people managed to do it), the cat believed himself a civilized animal. He did scream his territory or bellow at others like a deranged buffalo. The only reason he did such a thing, besides the boy seeming to be a lovely chap with a less than sturdy constitution, was Aubre. He would do anything for her.
The noise continued to echo, eerie and high-pitched, for quite a few breaths. A few nearby people, turning to stare at the abashed feline and his trainer, did not seem overly pleased by the noise. The attack, meant to leave opponents off-kilter, staggering, and open for attack, was not included in most people’s idea of a pleasant afternoon. The chubby Persian just wilted for a moment. He murmured an apology to thin air. His trainer, satisfied that the ringing in her ears was not serious, gently rubbed his skull with anxious streaks.
When he rose, like a zombie from the grave, both Aubre and her old cat startled. Their youngest companion loved playing old movies—and Vincent’s revival assembled a lot of attacks. Sand-colored tail wrapped anxiously around a leg that stumbled back. Two pairs of eyes, one black and one deep green, met one another with obvious fear. They swallowed. The shorter, the male, began to lick his paws and pretend nothing had happened. Aubre, ignoring the tingling deep in her back, knelt a bit closer to where Vincent lay. “Are y-you okay? You fell a long way and a fall from human height can break bones—I hope t-that didn’t scare you; that was stupid to say…” Realizing she might be unnerving him, her cheeks flashed crimson. She didn’t want him to pass out—in case the fall was worse this time. He looked to be without any major injuries. Hopefully, beneath his exterior, nothing had been seriously ruptured. Silent killers were the worst.
The girl just shook her head again; she had seen nothing wrong with the offer itself—he was trying to be a decent guy. She felt weird repeating herself; she hoped the Vulpix did not mind: “It’s fine, you were t-trying to do a nice thing—I’m s-sorry we blurted t-that out…” The redhead would regret it when these concerned citizens turned on her; many people hated her uncle and his current policies. Her own relative, perched on the top of this apocalyptic heap, would not appreciate his name being thrown around. She smiled nervously. The cat continued to clean himself and ignore his trainer; he knew he was the one to blame: “I apologize for anything I said earlier, sir. I truly did not mean to scare you. I was just questioning why my little Ducky, with connections, lives as she does…” He gently pawed his way over and offered himself as a banister; hopefully the boy could get up easily.
Aubre offered one scarred hand to the brunette. It shook slightly. “I c-could treat you to lunch, to make up for nearly…” She imagined his head as a giant egg. At least nothing grey, or yellow in her mind, dribbled out from his ears. She just hoped he was not easily angered. Touching strangers frightened her; there was always a second where it seemed like you might burst into flames. She recomposed herself from her own personal nightmare: “For n-nearly giving you a concussion.” For now, with the topic nearly killing Vincent, Aubre decided to leave the talk of college for later. The boy might offer to buy her a house if she didn’t shut her trap.
|
|
Vincent Tram
NEUTRAL
Everyone has their own way of seeing. Some see the finer things or they just don't look.
Posts: 44
|
Post by Vincent Tram on Oct 29, 2013 12:49:44 GMT -5
"I'm okay. It just hurts a little." Vincent answered, still holding a hand to the back of his head.
There was no blood and really it didn't hurt too badly. True, the screech had made his ears hurt a little. But just from the fall, his head was fine.
"Nothing's broken and it's okay. Granted I was startled by the sudden loud noise but, I'm alright." Vincent tried to assure Aubre. "It's mainly Haunt's fault for just appearing out of nowhere like that. Course, he's a ghost and scaring is what he does best. He just choose the wrong time."
"I shall go fetch Spark." Roko said as he stood up and started to look around for the pikachu.
Seeing Aubre's hand stretched out to him, he wondered why she was trembling. It wasn't cold out so...was she afraid of him? Taking her outstretched hand, he stood up but was careful not to grip her hand too tight.
"Sure." Vincent agreed.
|
|
|
Post by Aubre Ellen McKenna on Nov 1, 2013 3:29:30 GMT -5
(Please do not reply for at least 48 hours)
What was a little? The scales that sat on all those counters in doctors’ offices sprang to mind; the slow progression of the otherwise happy faces as some unseen force propelled them toward misery. Many times, during her hospital stay, she had to rate her pain on a scale of one to ten. Evidently, screaming and biting back tears, did not dispel anything below five. Green eyes tried to see any signs of danger in Vincent’s behavior. Was his hand twitching? Did his eyes look unfocused? Being prone to paranoia and anxiety, which was more pronounced after the attack, it was little surprise that she found everything wrong with Vincent. She swallowed and spoke: “If y-you say so, it’s your body—just don’t be afraid to go to the doctor if you start seeing things—unless those things are there. O-otherwise , if you don’t see anything, you would be visually impaired; that w-would likely need a doctor t—“ A gentle jab to the ribs, from a certain feline’s tail, stopped her mouth.
She swallowed. The words forced themselves down, past her esophagus, like swallowing some kind of child’s building block. How had fire burnt away her self-restraint? Was it really getting better—Aubre was worried she was becoming worse. Then again, was she the best judge for improving sanity?
Aubre would watch the boy carefully. The main issue with that, examining him for any signs of injury, was the staring; Aubre would not be rude. The little redhead did not want anyone else hurt on her watch again. Two people killed because of her, very close to her, was far more than enough. “I s-suppose it’s what Haunters are supposed to do.” The sound had left her own ears ringing (even with her fingers nearly puncturing her ear drums. She moved to apologize—pupils widened as they focused on his ears. “---I am s-sorry about the screech. You can hear properly r—that’s a stupid question; s-sorry.” Unless the brunette had cultivated the ability to read lips in the past ten minutes, he was not deaf.
The fingers trembled slightly in the air. Her thoughts tumbled around like damp clothes in the drier; someone , judging by the static and nervous sparking, her neurons had forgotten the dryer sheets. Please don’t let him break it. Please don’t let me fall over. Please don’t pull back—he’s not a monster. He’s just a boy. Just because he’s stronger than you doesn’t mean anything. Instead of breaking her hand, which might be possible, the brunette just pulled himself up to his feet.
The fact that her offering was so easily accepted, after nearly killing him , was met with a blank stare. What was she meant to say now? What kind of food did he eat? Where was the closest—and least expensive—place? Would it all be flooded with university students? Did cheap imply a higher chance of food poisoning? Any selfish thoughts, about what she herself might eat, were quickly shoved to the back of her mind. She wasn’t the one who was an inch or two away from impersonating Humpty Dumpty. He could pick the locale: “Do y-you have a-a-any allergies—what about your P-pokemon? I’m not p-picky. We c-can go wherever y-you want. Just n-nothing with barbecue…” , Vincent?” The smell of burning flesh, no matter what animal it came from, brought up bile. The contents of her wallet were now plain in her mind. Would there even be any moths left in her wallet after this? Her check would come soon. She could survive for a few more days—Lenore would stop her from starving. Turning her head back, looking around the area, she frowned.
Did a ritzy college town even know the meaning of the word ‘cheap’? All she could see, from their little cramped knoll of grass, were restaurants with foreign names. “They have crepes---with whipped cream. Ducky, do you have any idea how delicious that sounds?” The cash register that ate her last few dollars, with a high-pitched ring of a ‘burp’, would certainly get a good mean out of it. Aubre raised her eyes up to meet Vincent’s brown ones. She hoped that his poor half included the stomach.
|
|
Vincent Tram
NEUTRAL
Everyone has their own way of seeing. Some see the finer things or they just don't look.
Posts: 44
|
Post by Vincent Tram on Nov 7, 2013 0:36:21 GMT -5
"I'll go if something weird goes on or if it starts to really hurt." Vincent said. "But as of right now I'm alright."
Vincent shrugged at the comment made about Haunters. There could be some that didn't like to scare others but Haunt was the only haunter he meet. So he really couldn't say much on that subject.
"I'm not allergic to another nor my pokemon." Vincent answered. "Looks like I'm not the only one who doesn't eat barbecue."
The reason he didn't like it was due to the taste of the sauce. The sauce was just horrible and nasty. It killed the original flavor that the food had and replaced it with something that would make ya feel sick. Well to him that is.
"How about you pick a place?" he then suggested. "I really don't care where we go. But it wouldn't be fair to make you go somewhere that made you uncomfortable so, you pick."
OOC: Sorry that this is so late. I was distracted by other sites and I was waiting for so many posts by a lot of people on every site I'm on. I just forgot to check back here.)
|
|
|
Post by Aubre Ellen McKenna on Nov 9, 2013 5:47:24 GMT -5
What sort of weird things could happen? Aubre imagined him wandering out in traffic. She could picture all sorts of pink Donphan appearing in his mind’s eye. The little redhead, not a very forceful person, would not insist he go to the doctor’s office. It would make her a hypocrite. Her back constantly hurt; she refused to go get any kind of treatment. Medication would likely help with her anxiety and PTSD (or cognitive-therapy); nothing, not even a pack of extremely-determined mules, could get her onto the couch of any psychiatrist. Aubre resigned herself to leaving the matter be; he likely wasn’t as pig-headed as her: “If you are ill, at all, please go. Head injuries are serious---not that you n-need to worry.” Her first Pokemon, a little Mantyke, had perished for something easily fixed. The pain under her wing had been brushed off as growing pains. While a bump on the head was rarely fatal, unless it was severe, it could still cause a lot of complications . The scar on her head, which cut through her left eyebrow, had the doctors worried for a while; she should never have tried to walk so quickly.
Had she come across as anti-ghost? Aubre thought over her comments. She had never meant to imply anything bad! She had a little hybrid at home, likely with some Haunter blood in there. She flushed a bit guilty. Remembering she had nearly killed the boy, perhaps making another ghost, she managed to brush it off. Hopefully, now or in the future, Vincent was not angry over her shallow-judgements. “It’s just easier for ghosts to scare people. They can be invisible s-sometimes…” The thing that frightened her was her inability to detect them. There could be a ghost watching right now. One of them might be hanging out when she took a shower (a creature she would feel pity for). When the appeared out of nowhere, like Haunt had with Vincent, Aubre hoped someone had a pillow waiting for her head.
Teeth chewed at her bottom lip. Aubre hated being faced with a decision of any kind. What was even in this area? The café and little fast-food place became obvious in her head. Would she be able to find them on her own? Her sense of direction was horrid. The redhead hoped he did not get the wrong idea; repaying him for nearly ruining his ability to think, with a stick shoved into the wrong cortex, was not any attempt at a date. “I am not either. One of my Pokemon has an issue with n-nuts—mostly peanuts…” She tried to smile at the barbeque comment. Her lips refused to cooperate. It was a serious matter to her. It could, if fire was present, result in the same thing as any dog. The smell made her stomachs turn somersaults. Thankfully, unlike some stereotypical men, Vincent did not seem to enjoy tearing apart a cow carcass with just his teeth.
Oh Arceus. He’s giving me a choice. Her thoughts spit out the aforementioned in frustration. The tiniest sigh escaped her mouth. To be truthful, now that she had mentioned food, her own stomach was begging for something to chew on. At least, out of the park and exposure, she wouldn’t have to worry about the weather. Her laptop, which was still in her aunt’s claws, could be retrieved later. What did she want to eat? Aubre felt greedy. “I was trying to let you pick—I n-nearly shattered your skull…” Her words were full of hesitation. She was the type, if faced with three ways in a wood, to just st up camp until someone else came along.
The feline, obviously a connoisseur and consumer of food, decided he was tired of this. If Ducky had her way, and the boy insisted on being polite, they would die of starvation: “There’s a little café with doughnuts down the way; I quite like doughnuts. Hm?” Aubre frowned. It was a way out of the dreaded questions. Wasn’t the whole point of this walk—besides wasting time—to help the cat ignore his love for baked goods? With a nervous smile, taking a step or two ahead, Aubre walked toward the little café. It was likely a bad sign—for Arthur—that she knew the way there so well.
|
|
Vincent Tram
NEUTRAL
Everyone has their own way of seeing. Some see the finer things or they just don't look.
Posts: 44
|
Post by Vincent Tram on Nov 10, 2013 12:24:21 GMT -5
"I know, trust me I'll go to a doctor if anything starts happening." Vincent said with a smile, trying to reassure Aubre so she wouldn't be worrying over it.
The comment about ghosts hadn't been taken the wrong way. It's just that like people, every ghost was different. Not all of them were scaring machines on purpose. In truth, Vincent felt sorry for them. They were trapped in a world where people could barely understand them because they'd be too busy running away screaming to get to know the ghost. Haunt was a bit hard to get along with but Vincent had observed a few good qualities about the haunter.
Although, Vincent eventually started to wonder if he placed too much on Aubre. To some, it was hard to pick a place. The amount of money one has in their pocket plays a role along with the price of the food in the place you're going too. Maybe he should've thrown manners aside and picked the place huh?
"That sounds good." Vincent agreed on the donuts shop so Aubre could have one less thing on her mind.
As Vincent started to follow, Spark and Roko had reappeared and the two pokemon ran over to him. Spark had jumped in the air and landed on Vincent's shoulder with a smile and twitching ears. Roko on the other hand just walked over to Vincent's side and followed that way.
|
|
|
Post by Aubre Ellen McKenna on Nov 26, 2013 3:44:55 GMT -5
The cycle had to be broken. When something was worrying her, regardless of what it was, it could just take over her entire mind. The fall, with how her brain had emphasized the sounds that followed, was one of these things. Each step would be seen as a potential hazard. Like a mother hen, flapping her wings, Aubre would likely smother Vincent. The boy seemed like a nice young man; the redhead did not want to scare him, chase him off, or make him feel patronized. Finally, forcing herself to count dead leaves as a distraction, Aubre tried her best to let her worrying go: “I will trust you; I’m sorry. There are just a lot of things that can be fixed if a doctor is found soon enough. This isn’t one of them, surely. You’re just a bit unsteady. . .” The vision of a dark blue wing, beneath tiny hands, came to mind. How many times had they joked about that tiny lump when they were little—her and Elouise? Shaking her head, blowing a leaf from her nose, Aubre tried to use the few tips the therapist had given her. While they rarely worked, outside of his controlled office, it seemed to help.
The matter of ghost-types was left to slowly wither away. Aubre felt rather awkward as the conversation topic wafted away like smoke; fortunately, the mometary discomfort prevented her from making a further jack-ass out of herself. In her new paranoid state, where nearly everyone was a threat, the redhead liked to bet safely (and with the numbers). The fact that a ghost would be a likely prankster, something to watch around baggy pants, came to mind. In all truth, as she herself broke a few statistics, she did not believe stereotypes. Make yourself look like a prejudiced-moron, it’s better than bashing people upside the head with tree roots. Sometimes, with a mind like hers, Aubre had no idea why the world needed cruelty, pranks, or enemies.
The matter of the diet was laid to rest; the cat was practically racing ahead of the humans. A tan paw sometimes slipped into the street when the crosswalk blared an ominous crimson. The feline would find himself working with the children tomorrow; most of this involved battling, running, and dodging. That tiny smile on that muzzle ,just because of a doughnut, was too much to take away. Besides, after discovering her own stomach, Aubre found herself wanting a tiny little pastry or two.
The ghost had done little to upset her appetite; sugary and quick was how she enjoyed her nervous snacks. Judging by how her slim frame had gained a bit of fat lately, Aubre spent a lot of her time anxious. Then again, with her scarred-back and intensified schedule, most of the free-hours devoted to personal-health had vanished. The woman’s meals bounced between frequent, rare, and nonexistent; some days she forgot to consume a whole meal and on others spent the entire afternoon consuming whatever was within easy reach. “I hope so; they really do have decent food. The bagels are delicious too—I don’t really like their cream cheese. It’s a bit too runny. It also looks more like ivory than dairy. . .” Swallowing, forcing down her words, Aubre tried to make conversation. Talking about how brunch resembled dead bones likely hindered an appetite.
Nervous fingers, meandering uselessly from place to place, were forced into her pockets. Grasping for a subject, landing upon the same one that had gotten them in this mess to begin with, Aubre quietly inquired: “How long have you been in school at Avarius? I’ve never been. . .” Turning briefly, staring at the signs of the campus in the distance, Aubre felt the slightest sting of desire. The Persian rocketing forward, with a happy exclamation, drew her back to their current destination.
The little sign was visible in the distance; the name was rather dull. A large chalkboard proclaimed daily specials in spidery scrawl. Pulling out her beaten-up wallet, the cartoon-Mantyke was missing an eye, the redhead pulled out a few dollars. “You can pick out what you want—there’s also a sandwich shop across the street…” Terrified her hands might misbehave, decide to give the brunette an obscene gesture, the smaller trainer jerked her head across the street. The place with sandwiches seemed far busier than the tiny doughnut shop. It had lower prices too.
|
|
Vincent Tram
NEUTRAL
Everyone has their own way of seeing. Some see the finer things or they just don't look.
Posts: 44
|
Post by Vincent Tram on Dec 4, 2013 10:10:32 GMT -5
"It's okay. You're just concerned and it's appreciated, I honestly though feel fine." Vincent told her.
While Roko just remained by Vincent's side as they walked, Spark had jumped down at some point. Running about on all fours and sometimes zigzagging with Aubre's persian. It wasn't everyday that they were doing something other than watching Vincent do his homework, go to his classes, or attempting to find a job in some way. So it made Spark rather happy that they were and he was just going to enjoy it while it lasted.
Vincent listened to Aubre talk about the food in the small donuts shop. Putting his finger tips together on each hand to the thumb, making them appear round. He put them to his face over his eyes.
"Ever hold a dounut up in front of yours?" Vincent started. "Kind of makes ya look like you wear glasses, although that's not a bad thing."
Pausing for a moment, he removed his hands and put them his pockets. Okay yeah. That was stupid.
"Sorry. I'm poor at making jokes." Vincent explained, then the subject returned to school. "Not very long, I'm still doing my first year there."
Once arriving at the shop, Vincent went into his pockets and pulled out some money. He wasn't rich and didn't walk around with his pockets budging with cash; his father most likely did. He had enough to get himself something most likely, maybe one extra thing that Roko and Spark would have to share.
|
|
|
Post by Aubre Ellen McKenna on Dec 10, 2013 5:25:20 GMT -5
The smaller adult just gave a brief smile; the emotion did not reach her eyes. It looked like her mouth had forgotten how to pull upward; a drunken man had been put in charge of hoisting the lips to appropriate levels. It’s just that head injuries can---“They could kill you, leave in you a wheelchair, cripple self-esteem, or leave a person infirm for months. “—can be d-dangerous.” They can also make you look like Frankenstein--sometimes. Bony fingers briefly brushed the scar that ran through her misshapen left-eyebrow. While mostly hidden by her bangs, which could sometimes impede her sense of safety, the white-line seemed plain as day at the moment. At least Vincent had a reason; you just fell over because you’re stubborn—almost worse than a donkey— Her mind butted up against that assertion; Aubre made a mental correction. maybe it’s not an almost.
The matter had to be dropped. Vincent was likely growing annoyed with her—was that a wrinkle in his nose or a shadow from his hair. Taking a deep breath, attempting to control the tornado that was her thoughts, the redhead fell silent. Like whenever she was nervous, facing an awkward silence and her own mind for company, the female trainer rarely stayed that way for long. “It’s just because I l-like to worry; I r-really c-can’t tell you why.” He would never speak to her again, if Aubre was honest.”. It’s part of who I a-am—now--you look just fine.” What frightened her more than anything, as she fiddled with her chewed-nails, was her inability to remember what she had been like. Would her old self had fretted over a stranger like this? Then again, growing up in ease, that teenager had never made someone crack their skull open.
The feline was a rather clumsy sort. By the end of the jaunt, constantly pausing to allow the Pikachu an easy escape from his uncertain step, Arthur was a tad irritated. A few times, whiskers and tail stiffening, the chubby-cat had frozen like a statue. “Watch yourself little lamb—Old Arthur is not the most exemplar sampling of grace.” His instincts, which dictated that Spark might have been tasty, likely contributed to his sour mood. Regardless, as the smells of baked goods became sticky in his nostrils, the jovial fellow began to calm. Food could pull him from his darkest mood; judging by his weight, which was a bit concerning, the normal-type had seen some difficult times.
Aubre had little idea how to respond. Green eyes just gave an owlish blink. Finally, not wanting to insult Vincent with forced laughter, the redhead just nodded at first. When he put his hands away, likely feeling left-out by her ill-humor, the McKenna moved to reassure him. “It d-does.” A correction timidly forced its way out between her teeth. While she had never worn glasses, her eyes had no functional issues (besides being too expressive), the redhead saw little wrong with them. The ones Vincent discussed, resembling the bloated corpse of a tire, might draw her eyebrows up.“—though, normal glasses at the very least, are a bit t-thinner.” If frames were that large, an inch or so thick, the person would likely end up two things: hit by a motor vehicle and a hospital bill for a broken nose.
“I’m w-worse than you, promise—you’re really not that bad, though!” He eyes became interested in a distant storefront. Her lies were easier to read than a piece of children’s literature “.At least you try.” The idea of college refused to let go; it had sank its teeth into her skull and refused to let go. In truth, while much of her school-time memories conjured smoke and pain, the redhead had enjoyed her time in Hoenn. Her mind had eagerly soaked up information.
“ I feel like I already asked t-that. “ Sometimes, when being frantic, her anxiety turned her thoughts into a broken record. “I’m sorry—“ She moved to continue the conversation. “--you look older t-than a freshman t-though.” Realizing her insult, opening her mouth to correct it, a cream tail jabbed into her ribs. Arthur had finished his order; he wanted the money to pay for it. Nervous fingers pulled the bills from the wallet; none of them, like green serpents, drew blood from her fingertips.“It’s nothing against you, Vincent. You just seem very mature.” Green eyes stared at her expression in the silvery counter.
I might pass for twelve on a bad day. Aubre had actually been accused of skipping classes before. “I really want to go back one day.” The redhead seemed to be talking to the counter. Sadly, with an expression of bewilderment, the baker frowned.
Emerald gaze flickered upward; the choices left her stunned. “W-whatever he has, p-please.” Scarred fingertips gestured to her feline friend. Otherwise, if left to her own thoughts, the decision could take hours.
|
|