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"In that case, I'll dump all my excess on you and Stella can deal with it," said Kael, with a catlike grin. "Sure as fuck ain't letting Hana keep it all, 'cause one, she doesn't need all that sugar and two, she's just gonna forget about it and, five months now, I'll be the one raking old sweets out from under her bed." As much as he liked to complain, Kael was often grateful for the extra work afforded to him by parenthood. He'd never been able to sit still doing nothing for very long and, although he'd been accused of biting off more than he could chew and running himself ragged, he'd rather work himself to death than be left to his own devices. As a youth, he'd had a strict sense of schedule effectively beaten into him, to the extent that he'd never once considered himself someone who might struggle with the concept of time, but as soon as he secured a life of freedom for himself, the train careened right off the rails, crashing and burning in the coarsing waves of the river below.
"Girls or boys, makes no difference to me, I'm pretty convinced Hana would be the same either way," Kael sighed. Maybe that was just because she reminded him of himself at that age...or, maybe, she reminded him of the version of himself he'd only seen through stolen memories; he wasn't sure if it provided much comfort that even a version of him raised outside of the cruel facilities of the Scarlet Nightmare struggled to understand his place in everything. Kael had heard stories of miroirs who resembled their originals in looks alone, their personalities worlds apart from anything recognisable, but he'd gotten the impression he had an awful lot in common with poor old Hyunjin Kang. "Actually, maybe you've got a point. I don't think I was ever, like, a standard boy growing up so that's way out of my realm of expertise.
Worth it in the end, innit? Kael's only response was to lift his right hand, left hand gripping his wrist, and flex it a few times, as though working out a crack in his joints. A silent way of saying, 'that shit just about gave me carpal tunnel syndrome'. This was, of course, an exaggeration and, besides, if he was going to get wrist issues from anything, it was from playing the fucking bass. "Eric Draven? Well, the theme's cartoons and I've never read the comic. Wouldn't want to be a poser." What comics did he read? He'd been working through a shit ton of Junji Ito lately. He could probably pull off a pretty decent Intersection Bishounen without trying too hard, even if willingly choosing a costume with 'pretty boy' in the name felt like too bold a choice.
Cyrek's question went unanswered, tossed aside by Kael's desperate attempts to change the subject and get him out of here. Sure, it was Kael's sincere hope that, if Cyrek found anyone hot, it was the exact person Kael had been looking at BUT there was no fucking time for that. "Quit it with the googoo eyes, loverboy," said Kael, impatiently, as he tugged Cyrek away from Stella's line of sight. This may have seemed like something of a rash move but, as a matter of fact, the fact Kael hadn't just yanked Cyrek away was a sign of great self-restraint, thank you very much. "And it smells of hay. Not my fault if your nose is fucked up," he added, having now clearly used up the last of that same self-restraint and having jump straight from making vague excuses to lying outright. Although he didn't make a great habit of it, Kael was a good liar and often convincing enough that even his stupidest, weakest lies had helped him to wriggle out of trouble.
As they passed the bonfire, his eyes washed over the group of kids for a moment, just long enough to make sure they weren't doing anything stupid in the face of open flames. (Somehow, the weight of this responsibility was the one thing snubbing out his own urge to whip out a cigarette and see if he could light it off the bonfire without burning his own fingers.) "I ain't saying trick-or-treat first or last," said Kael, narrowly avoiding having tripped over his own feet from the surprise of Cyrek clapping his shoulder, "Because I ain't saying it." And then, he raised his hands up as if in defeat. "I'll take the equipment but you better provide the vehicle. All I've got is the bike."
He made no effort to mask the grimace sparked by the mention of the Bastards burning money. Kael often thought that he must have joined the gang at the worst possible time and that, maybe, he'd been afflicted with some sort of strange curse where nothing was ever meant to go easily for him, possibly as a trade-off for the fact he hadn't been taken out by some Shadow. Maybe it was the punishment he got for surviving the hit that killed his old friend, for allowing him to take a bullet to the throat that was supposed to have blown Kael's brains out. He'd been pulled in by Cyrek right as the gang had fallen victim to their own ranks funneling money (something about which he was still pretty furious and ultimately the thing that pushed him to get another job, just in case) and getting implicated in crimes they didn't commit. A total fucking mess, by any measurements. At least now, it seemed as though things had calmed down somewhat.
"Works for me," he said, with a shrug. "Gotta check with work first but it's Dabin so all I've really got to do is tell him I'll leave his sorry arse behind next time he fucks up on a ride. Fair deal, innit?" He paused for a moment, letting out a shallow sigh. The kids were still bounding on ahead and Kael was grateful for that. Kept him looking back over his shoulder all the time. And he hated doing that, made him feel like he was being pursued. Fuck knew he'd had enough of that for one lifetime. "Y'know, I've never been to Canada," he said, wistfully. "Least I don't think I have. Not just as a regular person before, anyway." Cyrek knew what that meant, it didn't need elaborated upon out loud. "I think I need a break from this plac...but, still, make sure you book us enough dates. Me and free time don't mesh all that well." Another pause, he fought the urge to start fidgeting with...his hair, his earrings, anything. "Think we're gonna have to find a new place to practice? The mansion feels a little unappealing after...y'know."
"That makes two of us," Cyrek's lopsided grin made an appearance, though he'd taken up enough time in Alaska that he was more customary to the differences, "Not that into chocolates. Stell will probably inhale this shite and call it the parent tax, though." Considering the haul was fortuitously overflowing past the halfway mark of all their buckets, his three older girls would have an excess of it to go around and enough for a stomach ache by the end of the evening. He and Kael seemed to gravitate to being on the same wavelength, even if he arguably met the former mercenary through his ex-partner; their largest disparity was that the frontperson was practically incapable of obfuscating his big emotions. In a punk band, Kael's aplomb ( even if he was not so inwardly ) balanced out any probable strife. ( They were, perhaps, less of a good influence on one another outside said setting, if the incorrigible partner-in-crime duo their kids had espoused was any indication. )
Speaking of kids, no surprises that theirs were lacking self-awareness. Raising an eyebrow at his best friend when they turned back to one another's company, mismatched eyes keeping tabs on the girls out of his peripheral, he shook his head and remarked, "Girls. Still think it'd be worse if I had boys." And he hoped to fucking God that any he produced with Stella weren't sons, still. Call him a bit of a sap for his bias, as each of the four had him wrapped around their little fingers, but he wasn't sure he could adapt after only raising one of them — and at childhood, Astarion was as malleable as his siblings, no streaks of incalcitrant nature or an abyssal well of energy that he'd never see the bottom of. He'd probably watched their lead guitarist's son run circles on his little legs around the stage making airplane noises about a dozen or more times before he told Crash to give it a rest. Soomi's only problem at two years old was eating everything around her, including inedible displays ( which did persist through year four, and earned him a couple awkward emergency room visits with Stella. )
"Hey, Mojo Jojo seems dead pleased with her costume, at least. Worth it in the end, innit?" Cyrek's ribbing was harmless, evidenced by the smile sloping to a knowing smirk. In their financial position, quibbles were a greyed-out option; the vicious cycle he'd been penned into his entire life earned him the skills of mending clothes and attentively following his avo's instruction to fashion his own. "I think you could've pulled somethin' out of the closet and spun the wheel on any weepy goth character and said that's you. Kids believe anythin'. Eric Draven? She probably don't know what The Crow is yet." A hand flicked out, creating a vague gesticulation over Kael's current attire, once he had the pink cat in his arms. The pull of his mouth to one side as he scrutinized his bassist holding onto it was evanescent. "Good enough. Hey, what are you lookin' at? Is there someone hot over there?"
The punk's head turned, his right side facing the crowded photobooth now as his eyes scanned the patrons in line. It was a fruitless endeavor. Sure, he could objectively descry attractive people out of a crowd, but he'd found he had no interest of any kind once he'd started kissing Stella in a way that was less than platonic and brimming with covert affections. Plenty of relationships kept their wandering eyes, and once he'd had her, he couldn't understand the point. Inevitably, his eyes plucked her out among her friends, and he swayed to one side, trying to capture the attention of her eyes long enough to wink at her — there was frustration etched into her expression and disappointingly, she didn't notice him. He could've waved an arm to expend extra effort to flag her down, but in the nick of time, Kael's voice oozed into his reverie and he looked back, blinking innocuously.
"Right," he agreed coolly, the tone of voice carrying no shame even though it would have gotten him in a lick of trouble on several occasions for being a stricken fool, and he groaned at the thought of wrangling four already hyperactive girls into sitting still for a confection that was chocolate-on-chocolate, "S'probably gonna be a while yet, you think?" There was still a beastly crowd surrounding the poor attendant when he glanced to the Witch's Brew, sniffling and wrinkling his nose then. "Hay? I don't smell anythin'." Okay, the point could be made that he rarely smelled anything, as it were. If the scent were overpowering, it wasn't cutting through the layers of dead nerves in his brain to process it. The punk vocalist's posture deflated mildly, before brightening seconds later with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Okay, but last one to say trick-or-treat's gotta drive our equipment up t' the gig in Fairbanks next week." An outstretched hand smacked against the bassist's shoulder, falling into step with him and trailing toward the bonfire. "I think I'm gonna angle for a couple gigs in Canada next year. You good with it? The album's on the cuttin' floor, it'll be done soon. Think we can go a couple tours now that the Bastards aren't about to burn all our money."
#« 𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥 » / 「 replies. 」#« 𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥 » / 「 & cyrek. 」#i'm so sorry....this ended up being 1.1k words even after i cut it down#PLEASE skip any part you need to#death tw#violence tw#gore tw#(only a vague reference in one line but it was worded kind of explicitly i guess)
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"Yeah, alright, whatever," said Kael, running his fingers through his hair, nails scratching at the back of his head. This seemed to be his body's natural response to frustration most of the time, even in spite of the fact he was usually quite meticulous about how he kept his hair. The reply itself was as dismissive as intended. A piss poor job at keeping his shit together wasn't exactly the kind of accusation with which he could argue with but, because there was little use in fighting simple reality, the words bounced right off his shoulders as he shrugged them. Having an argument about tacos was not on the list of shit he had time for today.
Kael frowned down at the tacos once more, eyes narrowing. If this had been a more amicable encounter, he might have even find the humour in her parroting his own words back at him but, for now, he was mostly just focused on figuring out to wriggle his way out of paying for anything. "Look, I'd love to chip in but I don't actually have any money on me," Kael said, lying. "Lost my wallet. Lost all my papers. Having a horrible day all around so cut me some slack." Something about telling outright lies felt a little low, even for Kael, but sometimes the cheapest tricks were the ones that worked. (Whether or not that'd be true today was a different question.)
Of course, Saylor was made aware of the fact that those existed whom spited her for something that she couldn't prevent—her abundant wealth. She knew she was in the minority, the 'one percent,' as most deemed it, however, she couldn't intervene in her parents' finances in her previous life, nor could she simply deny the privileges bestowed upon her by her current employers that kept her adequately fed and housed. One could argue that it was her unpleasant disposition that set others off, but could she be blamed? She had endured a full work day, only complaining in between rushes of customers, likely the same as the stranger whose papers sullied her hard-earned meal. Still, she acknowledged the fact that he likely would not afford her the grace most people would give to those with whom they shared a cramped social class.
"You made it your problem when you did a piss poor job at keeping your shit together," the red head was quick at a rebuttal, her words dripping in thick strings of venom. Besides, it only landed on one of 'em. Oh, her blood was lit aflame, and she could feel each individual vein sear underneath her normally thick-grown skin. In lieu of such a exhausting day, though? She was more unpredictable than normal. "Won't kill you either to shill out a couple bucks to compensate me. 'A few sheets of paper ain't gonna kill you.'" she echoed his earlier statement, mimicking the smile he wore with the same expression that offered no warmth.
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"Mostly been those piddly little funsize bars so far but there's been a few good pulls here and there," said Kael, who admittedly hadn't been paying all that much attention to these details. All the colourful packaging of different chocolate bars and candy packets tended to blur together at some point and he still hadn't bothered his arse to learn most of the American brands he didn't recognise. "But take what you want, I sure as fuck ain't eating any of it." In the first place, Kael didn't have much of a sweet tooth at all and American candy was way too sweet. British candy was near enough the same, even if the chocolate generally tasted a little more pleasant. He still disliked it. For a guy who could comfortably stomach food spicy enough to burn most people's esophogasuses, Kael had surprisingly particular tastes.
He whipped his head around to where the gaggle of girls was milling about, surprised by Cyrek's sudden whistling. "Oi, Hana?" he said, waiting for Cyrek to finish before adding his own commentary. "What'd we talk about before? Being aware of our suroundings, yeah?" He clicked his fingers twice and pointed to the ground in front of her. "Pay. Attention." He'd to say this not only because Hana hadn't noticed the threat of a chocolate-wiping but also because, as she immediately realised once she'd started listening, that she'd been about to walk straight into a huge muddy puddle. That one was tricky to navigate because he'd been the same way as a kid but it had quickly been beaten out of him and traded out for a hypervigilance he knew he'd never shake. In some ways, it was a blessing that Hana could be so distractible.
He'd seen the costume remarks coming a mile away. Honestly, he couldn't even really blame Cyrek for it and he probably would have a similar enough reaction if this had happened the other way around. "Yeah, yeah, Hana's already given me shit about it all afternoon," said Kael, rubbing awkwardly at his nape. "But between work and organising this birthday shit and, uh, having to actually make Hana's costume, I didn't have any fucking time." Why Hana had been so insistent that she absolutely had to go as Mojo Jojo, Kael would never know, but making that damn headpiece out of papier mâché had kept him up all night. He'd taken the stuff pink cat into arms and had even been about to argue with Cyrek's suggestion, fully equipped with a dialogue about how the Pink Panther was a free spirit with no keeper, only some useless detective, but he was interrupted by a very loud and very abrupt exclamation, coming from the photobooth queue.
He immediately recognised the voice as belong to Mio, one of the workers at the daycare, but the real problem was the words she was saying. It took him all of split second to realise what 'HE HAS TO SAY YES' meant, especially when paired with the look on Stella's face. At first, all he could feel was the pang of second-hand disappointment in the face of a ruined surprise but glancing back at Cyrek, who was faced away from the queue now, Kael couldn't see any signs of a reaction. A short, sharp sigh of relief escaped Kael; thank fuck the queue wasn't stood on the same side as his good ear. Still, he didn't trust the rest of Stella's group not to abrupt into something much louder and Kael was sure they'd only get lucky once. The clock was ticking.
"Shit, sorry, zoned out again," said Kael, suddenly. It wasn't true now but it had been true many times before and, as an explanation for why he'd just stopped speaking, it worked. "But, y'know what? They're gonna start getting impatient waiting for this cake, yeah?" he went on, jerking his chin towards the gaggle of kids (and, more importantly, away from the photobooth's queue). It went without saying that letting them go bug Stella when she was done was out of the question. "I told Hana we could still do some trick-or-treating and, honestly, I need a break from...the smell of hay." That last part was a poor improvisation. "But. I'm dragging you with me because I ain't doing that shit alone."
@rebelscaped near witches brew, around 5:30pm
"How's my girls?" Cyrek cooed as he bent to put his hands on his knees and level his lanky posture with the trick-or-treating baskets in hand for the quartet Kael was currently stuck with — Ju-mi's glow-in-the-dark facepaint was residual to his fingertips, Soomi had chocolate smears on her face, and Amaris was picking through the candy she didn't want to stuff into Hana's basket instead. "Joey, I dunno how we're gonna get that off you later. Why don't you take everyone to roast some of those marshmallows and then we'll bring you the cake from the big, bad witch?" The overworked attendant in question was vexed with their request to come up with a molten lava cake an hour and a half ago, and told them to fuck off and come back around when the initial crowd bulldozing over everyone for free food and drink died down. "Anybody give out those king-sized candy bars? 'Cause I'm bettin' it'll be me and Stella that eat through that the next week and they'll forget all about it," he guessed as the four young girls giggled and dashed off toward the bonfire, the warm glow emanating from it a sufficient vantage where they could both keep an eye out, "HEY, don't you wipe that chocolate on Hana's jacket!" A thumb and forefinger cupped to his full tiers, whistling until Soomi dropped her hand away from Hana's clothes. Cyrek rolled his eyes, facing his best friend. The grin didn't leave his face, in spite of how infuriating the lot could be when they were all together. "The night's just gettin' started for them. They'll probably bug Stella next after she takes her photo with the gals." He could see the six-person entourage in his peripheral, but all sound from his left side was null and void. Mismatched eyes gave Kael a once-over, chiding, "You couldn't half-ass a costume for 'em? That's kinda lame. Why don't you take Milkshakes?" Which wasn't a real cat, to Cyrek's disappointment, after he suggested putting one of their two felines — their newest addition was inducted into their household after Stella picked up a black cat out of the back alley behind the Milk Bar when the clinic had a curious case of escapee animals — into the pink outfit AJ had worn for trunk-or-treating. ( His second suggestion, after she shot down the idea of him taking AJ in the outfit for the less kid-friendly outing. When she declined the idea of putting Kid Vicious into the pink costume, he protested, they eat all the want, shit in our bathroom, and don't pay any bills but we can't dress him up like a cartoon? ) Slipping the straps of the stuffed cat off his shoulders, he held it out to Kael. It was a little wet after he'd slipped on black ice in the parking lot and eaten shit in front of Stella, the brunette laughing at him obnoxiously while holding out her hand to pull him up, leading him to stubbornly lay on the ground in defeat. "You can say you're uh, Pink Panther's keeper. Or somethin'. What's that called? Zookeeper?"
#« 𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥 » / 「 replies. 」#« 𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥 » / 「 & cyrek. 」#as always <3 no pressure to match length bc...to be honest!! i just got a little carried away :sob:#ANYWAY HOPEFULLY THIS WORKS FOR WHAT WE DISCUSSED HEHEH#you can correct me if i missed smth discord was being slow
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“I typically prefer the benches that aren't occupied, actually,” said Kael, withholding just enough of his frustration to crack what should have sounded more like a joke but came out as more of a sarcastic retort. He probably should have apologised for his tone, and he really would have been apologetic if he had done, but he was too focused on trying to rescue his stray sheets of rubbish and escape potential humiliation (or, at the very least, embarrassment, which was not a feeling around which he really knew his way, even if he was good at pretending not to give a shit) to really dwell on the details. He was initially confused, and maybe a little taken aback, by the way she snatched the dumplings to her chest. For a moment, he almost wondered if the comment about them being like gold was intended as a mockery – and he might have even been relieved if it were, it would have made him feel a little better about having spoken so brusquely himself – but it was with furrowed brows that he realised that this might well have been a sincere reaction. Although he was not one to pass judgement on anybody for the harmless act of caring about things, he had to blink his way through the thought process, finally settling on a sigh of laughter and a shake of the head. “You could get ink poisoning,” said Kael, with the lackadaisical shrug of a person who knew he was lying, knew anybody else listening knew he was lying because it was not a remotely convincing lie (nor was it meant to be), but was having fun with it anyway. “Or maybe all that writing's just curses and shit. Up to you if you feel like risking all that, ain't no skin off my nose.”
IT DIDN'T NEED EXPLAINING WHY EXACTLY Farah preferred to take her lunch breaks from work outside when the weather permitted. There was a break room at the Gothland Mausoleum, with a refrigerator that she found a bit disgusting, not due to its close to proximity to deceased bodies and displays of caskets but only because someone had previously spilled some kind of saucy food that now left all of the shelves sticky and wafting a strange scent. Clearly, the mortician assistant wasn't thrown off by what was showcased in horror movies, but eating food in an unsanitary environment did get to her. With two chopsticks poised in her fingers, as even though she had brought a sandwich to eat, The Yumpling was calling to her, her attention was mostly taken up by two crows that were picking over the remnants of a meal someone was too lazy to throw out. Mentally, she was making up a little storyline between the two of them, amusing herself effortlessly before she needed to return to the scent of embalming fluid. Because of this, the fact that the papers had flown right onto the picnic table she was sitting at went entirely unnoticed, happily chewing through a fresh dumplings with little concern for anything outside of the crow she had affectionately nicknamed Dwight was explaining why he rightfully deserved the last cold french fry. When someone approached her, a pierced eyebrow raised with suspicion. "Are you always trying to climb under benches being used?" Regardless of her less than friendly question, she stood, about to reach for the container of dumplings to hold to her chest as if they were a defenseless creature that needed protecting when the were instead covered in paper. "Oh, no, I hope they aren't ruined! These things are like gold!" Her hand only stopped inches from ripping the papers off of it after his given warning, and Farah turned her head with question. "Why not? Is it poisoned?"
#« 𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥 » / 「 replies. 」#« 𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥 » / 「 & farah. 」#SORRY IF THIS IS a little rambling at parts lmaooo (like sentence structure wise not length wise hehe)#anyway. kael. very annoying. :|
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Kael is, at least in this very moment, oblivious to anything the two might, or may have once had, in common; a scenario wherein a hitperson and a former disgraced mercenary coming to heads over loose paper and spoiled tacos should have been a comical one, provided everyone involved was willing to ignore the horror that would have gripped Kael by the throat if he were to ever catch wind of his past potentially catching up to him. (The voice of a handler echoed in his ears, telling him that scars he would sustain were a mark of pride, evidence that he was good enough and skilled enough to survive where others might have fallen, but he'd only ever seen them as a source of ugly shame, branding him like cattle, and had covered them with ink at the first opportunity.) Perhaps it was because Kael had come from the very same roots that he failed to notice the other's hypervigilence, the way they snapped to attention at the very first sign of disturbance. It was easy to forget that this was not the norm when, at some point, it had been all you had ever known.
"I try not to attach too much importance to shit that's easy to lose," said Kael, with a disinterest that was as practiced as it was genuinely casual, the words of someone who didn't care but only because he'd taught himself not to. If something were to happen with these pages and they were to be lost forever, Kael would be somewhat upset. A loss was a loss, no matter how inconsequential. But it would not be enough to shake anything out of him beyond frustration. He'd be losing a lot of hard work but life was full of fleeting things, it never did well to cling to things."So, no, not that important. Not that that matters either."
Kael almost winced as they took the paper between their fingers but was instead relieved to see that the sauce and grease had soaked through the paper just enough that the words written there were largely illegible, the ink bleeding across the page in ugly ways. He didn't even have to resent the fact he hadn't blessed with awful handwriting. "Cheers for the tip, mate," he said, swiping the sodden paper from the others grasp, and immediately regretting the newfound sensation of sauce on his fingers. "But I think a notebook would probably do the job just fine. Office supplies don't really agree with me, y'know, as a matter of basic principle."
Hasun decided to skip out on gracing the shop with their presence today, opting to enjoy the moments where they aren't surrounded by people. Closely, at least. Passersby mind their business. Laughing together, angrily speaking into a speaker or headset - nobody looks towards them. Unassuming and quietly glancing around the alley without much interest. Simple observation, a habit they've formed over the years of affiliation. It's easy for them to get lost within this habit ; almost hawk-like in their perch, but they seem to snap out of it. He remembers the food order resting against the bench table. Street tacos that're still warm and entirely untouched.
With interest shifted, he twists in his perch to open the styrofoam container— The moment the top is flipped paper scatters with the wind and beneath the bench. Hasun's brows furrow, following the papers collecting underneath him. Even begins to move to grab them and inspect out of curiosity, but abruptly stops at the voice. Eyes snap up almost immediately, training on the person who'd spoke. He hasn't followed the order framed as a request yet and has remained perfectly still. "Ah?" They cock their head to the side with the noise, slowly glances towards the container they'd open and back. "Something important then?"
Eye contact breaks and they reach for the paper beginning to stain from the grease. They aren't looking, but they're also not honoring the frantic statement. "If it's important, you might want to start bringing a damn binder... clipboard, even. They're made to keep shit like this from happening, y'know?" They dangle the scrap paper between two fingers and shake it between the both of them.
#« 𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥 » / 「 replies. 」#« 𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥 » / 「 & hasun. 」#HONESTLY....i feel like they both cancel each other out so it's all good :sob:
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This was, for the record, Kael's own personal idea of a worst case scenario. One of the only things more unbearable to Kael than having his personal thoughts aired out, quite literally, for any old stranger to read was having to deal with the moneyed. Often, it was not about how a person looked, especially if they'd come from the sort of wealth that made one believe they were owed respect without having to show off, but simply the way they carried themselves. (It was true, however, that Kael might have just been hypersensitive to these things or that he was filling in gaps and jumping to conclusions.) Ordinarily, her tone of voice would have rubbed him the wrong way but a second glance revealed she was probably pretty young and fuck knows he was pain in the neck at that age.
That still didn't mean he was about to cough up a single dollar. "Act of God," he said, throwing his hands up, before reaching forward to quickly swipe up the now slightly greasy sheet of paper. Just his fucking luck that one had just been a regular sheet of paper. The glossy leaflets he'd also used would likely have fared better. "In other words, not my fucking problem." He had a child he needed to feed, he didn't have money to throw at rich kids who could buy their own damn lunches. (And suddenly, the realisation that he'd wasted his money on his own lunch flagged up in the back of his head but he was determined to ignore that.) "Besides, it only landed on one of 'em," he said, with an insincere smile. "The other two are still fine. A sheet of paper ain't gonna kill you."
Saylor capitalized on the grimy Y2K aesthetic, but otherwise she reveled in luxury and privilege—minus the mandatory hours she spent at Top Pot, cleaning out fryers and flipping doughnuts. Which is precisely why she'd opted to forgo the haunting stench of the food trucks and chart a path for the Ivy, painfully craving a bowl that runneth over with creamy alfredo pasta, sprinkled in the richest shrimp harvested from the northern Pacific. That, paired with a Napa Valley chardonnay, and Saylor physically could not complain. However, her travel was delayed by the sudden influx of customers that held her up at work for an additional thirty minutes, rendering her dinner reservation null and void by the time she'd finished perfecting her eyeliner in the bathroom mirror on the way out the door. So, unfortunately, she was left stranded in Food Truck Alley, starved and lonely as her chocolate-hued eyes flitted from vendor to vendor. None of it smelled particularly appetizing, though she was far beyond the point of caring as she stumbled upon a selection of tacos and placed her order with a watering mouth.
After her birrias were plated, Saylor drifted throughout the stretch of vendors until she located a bench table and gave a fitful sigh. Dramatically, she dropped onto it and rested her food ahead of her, people watching and exercising her human right to judge those who passed in abysmal outfits. As she slowly devoured her meal, she felt a small gush of wind, prompting for confusion to paint her features as she examined the paper that was covering her food. "What the fuck?" was her initial reaction, sharpened nails extending so she could pluck it off of her tacos and resume eating—until someone impeded on the thought. "Okay, well, you touch it and get it off my tacos so I can have a full fucking meal and not just doughnut holes for once." Manicured brows lifted at the stranger. "Or you can just buy me a new plate. It's only $14 for three." Was the price substantial to Saylor? Not really. Still, she felt the need to impress upon them that she thought so, if it meant she'd be given some reparations.
#« 𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥 » / 「 replies. 」#« 𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥 » / 「 & saylor. 」#kael making a lot of assumptions here but his beef with the upper classes always wins out 😭
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food truck alley, midday, current time (no specific date) / @anchoragestarters
The remainding few pieces of xiaolongbao he'd ordered had been sat neglected on the bench table long enough that it had started to go cold, the soup having seeped out of one and into the polystyrene tray that held them. Although Kael had never been known for his appetite, it was not because he was not hungry that his lunch had gone ignored but rather that he was much too focused on other things; in particular, inspiration had hit and the most inconvenient moment and he was now stuck scrawling away on a pieces of scrap paper he'd found in his bag. The one he was on right now had been a flyer for something at some point, he hadn't bothered to flip over to check. Songwriting wasn't something with which Kael troubled himself quite as often these days; since he'd joined the band, those duties had fallen into hands besides his own. He harbored no ambitions of going solo but it felt nice to cling to old passions. Besides, the lyrics he penned were often personal and more occasionally, they were too vulnerable to be seen by anybody but Kael. He was fine with this. He might have even considered it a cheaper alternative to therapy. (Or was it more like keeping a diary?)
Of course it came as a shock, then, that a strong gust of wind came in just at that moment and whisked the papers right from under his pen. All Kael could muster as a response was a quiet grunt of surprise. The wind had calmed as quickly as it had picked up, as was the way of Anchorage's unpredictable weather. (He supposed he ought to have been used to that, given how much time he'd spent in London.) Most of the paper had gathered at the legs of another bench. Another occipied bench. Mostly under the bench. "Oh, fuck me sideways," he hissed under his breath, as he pulled himself to his feet and marched over, the gravel crunching noisily under the weight of his heavy New Rocks.
"Ey, if you don't mind moving for a bit, I need under here," said Kael, brusquely. Usually, he'd more polite than this. He wasn't a naturally rude person, but in times as frantic as these, he had a way of forgetting to filter himself. His gaze dropped to the bench table and his eyes widened as he finally noticed that a few sheets had landed squarely in this person's food. (He was so not reimbursing them for this.) Slowly but surely, eye contact was made. "Don't touch that."
#« 𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥 » / 「 replies. 」#anchoragestarters#there is NO pressure to match length!! i just don't know how to set a scene in a snappy way <3#anyway this feels like such a dumb premise for an open i'm SORRY but i need more threads for kael hehe#and my brain was blanking on good ideas so...please accept this :pensive: my very best attempt in my time of uselessness#(my open for karam for the lottery will come later btw!)
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kael's home, early evening ( @hevrtbrexkqueen )
The walls of the small trailer always began to feel oppressive whenever Kael got into one of these moods. It was as though the more his skull filled with questions and tangential ramblings, the more those walls closed in around him and he would get crushed under the weight of his own obsessive fixations. He'd been hunched over, using the corner of his coffee table in lieu of a real seat, and staring into dead space. If Pixie was speaking to him, it wasn't reaching him. Then, abruptly and without announcement, Kael stood up and said, “You were at that fashion show a while back, right?” Thankfully, Hana was already busy off pestering Cy's kids. These weren't conversations he felt like getting into with her around, even if only because it'd only encourage a barrage of questions, all with answer an eight year old wasn't really supposed to hear. “I've got questions about that.” He hadn't attended the fashion show himself, for various reasons-- not least of which was his contempt for the very idea of a missing person's benefit sponsored by a corporate entity. Tragedy as an advertising opportunity, death as a fucking billboard. (Was there nothing on this Earth too sacred for the capitalist machine not to suck dry?) Kael fell back onto the low couch, crossing one long leg over the other. He always supposed he looked as awkward sitting here as he felt, a tangle of skinny limbs and belt chains.
“Anybody have anything to say about the actual victim?” asked Kael, brow furrowed and lips pursed, as they always did when he was concentrating hard on something. “Or was an obviously staged escape really enough to distract people from the real issue?" How convenient it was that none of these incidents ever came to anything. No culprits. No solutions. It was enough to make a person believe that somebody out there didn't want these cases solved at all. Whether or not it was by design, it was clear that the fire had distracted the town from the Adisorn case. The fires themselves had started out in Rabbit Creek, one of the known sighting spots for those creatures that had been so quickly compared to the Bastards. He'd found those rumours about as credible as any cryptid-centric hoax but the simple fact that same spot had gone up in flames struck him as...odd.
"I want know how that went," he said, seriously. Like Kael, Pixie was a relative outsider to town and neither of them seemed to be much good at ingratiating themselves to others. A lack of trust in strangers and a lack of bias towards the people of this town were things they had in common. This was why Kael was asking Pixie these questions; he needed to hear it all from someone who wouldn't sugarcoat shit. "I'll pay you the extra time this takes if I have to."
#« 𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥 » / 「 replies. 」#« 𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥 » / 「 & pixie. 」#OKAY I TRIED TO FIX THIS AND UPDATE IT SO IT'S MORE RELEVANT#AFTER I FORGOT I WROTE IT.......#anyway i'm not 100% sure this still definitely works for what we discussed so please lmk if this needs fixed in any way hehe
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It was likely just the signs of potential protest that had caught Kael's attention, for he liked just about any excuse to rally against the various injustices of authority abused; it seemed a homemade picket was to Kael as a flame was to a moth. He must have lingered just a moment too long and so given the owner of that selfsame picket a perfect window to approach. For a moment, Kael said nothing. If he wanted to leave, he could have easily shrugged them off and been on his way, not another moment spared, and yet he stayed put, blinking in muted confusion as he took in their explanation. "That's just stupid," said Kael, finally. "They're punishing people for being accused of crimes now? What's the point in the fucking trial then?" The banning of a roller derby team might not have seemed a huge issue on its own, not in a town that had seen multiple bizarre murders and injuries in the past year alone, but to Kael, it set an unfortunate precedent. Once you started banning people for false accusations, where did it end? Banning everyone who seemed even somewhat 'unsavoury'? Kael was good at thinking in terms of worst case scenarios.
As for the trial itself, Kael had only vaguely kept up to date, having been preoccupied with his own responsibilities, but he'd certainly heard about the last minute submission by an anonymous party. The note provided along with it had been a little cryptic but, somehow, Kael assumed the supposed threat (which was how the court had chosen to take it) which lay under everyone's noses was not a roller derby team.
He accepted the petition form, and the hardback book onto which it had been attached, and signed his name with loud, emphatic strokes. It didn't look to him as though they'd had much success with this just yet. "Are you sure this will work?" he said, rapping the form with the back of the pen, "Is it enough? I feel like you should be making more of a scene."
where : outside wonderland skating when : august 15th @anchoragestarters
FIGURATIVELY STANDING TALL, EVEN IF SHE ONLY REACHED five foot three on a good day, Bambi's back was straight and she refused to leave her spot from outside the rollerskating rink she had become familiar with over the last few months. For the past three days, when she wasn't working or sleeping, the pink-haired roller skater could be found camped out in front of the doors that lead into the establishment, the homemade sign stuck to a crudely broken piece of wood that served well enough as a handle now propped up against the outer wall of the building. Instead their hands held a piece of paper that had been taped to an old hardcover books they easily got their hands on, or at least easier than they could acquire a clipboard. Failing to dissuade someone from patronizing the exact place they were protesting, their determination hadn't dwindled, and instead, their eyes fell upon the next person to pester who had just been innocently passing by. "Did y'know the roller derby team has been kicked out from practicin' and competin' at Wonderland Skating based off charges that were dropped and unfounded in a court of law? They have no good reason, and we're still banned." The last word was spoken louder than necessary, as if speaking it louder would somehow make her point of the unfairness more convincing. "Would ya consider signing this petition to support us bein' able to get back in there?"
#« 𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥 » / 「 replies. 」#« 𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥 » / 「 & bambi. 」#kael rallying for unpeaceful protest any chance he gets. nothing new here.
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“I'm a distractable person,” said Kael, by way of explanation, offering little more than a shrug as he spoke. “I wouldn't worry too much about it. But trust me, there was no mountain, no sign I was about to drive into it. Anything'll splatter and cause a mess if you barrel into it too quickly.” He was not a humourless person, in any case, and he might have been more willing to play around with exaggeration and less set on getting the facts straight were a headache not threatening to blossom in the sides of his skull, sharp and irritating. “Not sure the comparison helps unless you're an Aussie,” he said, with a short laugh into his cigarette that was neither mocking nor unkind, “Worst you'll get in London is the swans. Matter of fact, I'd sooner face a pissed-off swan than half the people in London.” A life, childhood and adolescence and beyond, spent trapped under the heavy fist of the Scarlet Nightmare had hardly done much to instil in him much trust in others. Not that anybody else needed to know about that.
“Oh, er...I guess I've never thought about it in terms of fun, or not fun.” said Kael, blinking as he turned to face them again. “It's just something you need to do. But it's not like I was ever prepared to be a parent. I didn't even know she was my kid until her mother left on my doorstep and ran off.” A wistful smile came to him then, it was a strange story and he knew it. “Still, I'd do anything for her. Yeah, I wonder, from time to time, if she'd be better off if she had a different father but losing her would also ruin my life so...” This was puncutated with another shrug, a silent 'well, you know how it is.' He took another, perhaps too long, drag of the cigarette and let out an uneven breath of smoke. If forced to be completely honest, he'd admit that raising Hana had come to feel like a justification for his own sordid existance. But Kael didn't do raw honesty so he kept that thought buried down in the pit of his gut. “So that's what it's like for me. As you said, it's different for everyone.” Kael hung his head to one side, casual, an eyebrow quirked. "Why? You fantasising about playing happy families?"
"Just japes, mate, just japes." With an impassive wave of their hand, Taka leaned up against the side of their car once more. Just fucking with you. "Mountain is, I guess, relative, 'cause I feel like they drop bloody mountains. Regardless..." They took a long inhale off their cigarette, then sighed out the smoke. "Sounds like you're distracted." It wasn't an open invitation—if Kael wanted to elaborate, he could, but Taka wasn't expecting it nor requiring it, simply an acknowledgment of the other's circumstances, of the bassist's current state of being, a nonverbal allowance. "Roos are the obvious comparison, right? The burbs keep gettin' closer to their land, like humans are just waltzing in on the place like they own it, so 'course roos are gonna be there. They like to keep to themselves, unless you fuck with 'em, which I think goes without sayin' for most wildlife." Another drag of her cigarette. "Roos, though, I think they're a lot bigger in real life than most people think. And get bloody mean when provoked. Nobody winning in a fight against one, can tell you that much. One gets in your garden, you just leave 'er be, that's her garden now."
Microexpressions were a staple when it came to interacting with Taka, evident by the glint in his dark eyes, one of interest; even when he looked away, he was listening. "Mess kinda comes with the territory of bein' in a gang, though, no? Kinda par for the course. I agree, though, shit's been kinda more out of sorts. Off the rails and such." Groomed brows twitched ever so slightly; she didn't know jack shit about child rearing, other than what she picked up from being auncle to her friends' kids. "Think that's also part of having a kid, right? Fuck if I know, got nothin' there." They leaned their head back, taking in the sky, and pulled off their cigarette once more, slowly pushing the smoke out between their pursed lips in a thin thread. "Is it fun? Bein' a parent, I mean. Obvi it's different for everyone, but what about for you?"
#« 𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥 » / 「 replies. 」#« 𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥 » / 「 & taka. 」#i've been to zoos with open spaces for wallabies but i have to imagine they're MUCH less threatening#also...not to play down the visciousness of geese...not to be messed with AHFHJKKK
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Kael let out a short, sharp exhale of a laugh. He'd been taken a little off-guard by the pivot to her own childhood behaviours and he had to shove his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket to keep from fidgeting. “You lost it, huh? You seem alright now,” said Kael, shoulders hunched in an incomplete shrug. “I don't think an unkind person would bother answering all my questions about recommendations.” At the very least, he could say she appeared to have far more patience for customer service than he had ever done. “I was a pain in the neck,” Kael admitted. “Or, at least I was as a teenager.” He shook his head. The truth was actually far more complicated than all that. How could he say he'd been good to his parents when he'd never had any, when nothing about his childhood had been remotely ordinary. (Could he even call it a real childhood? He'd been more a weapon in progress than a child.) Sure, he could have been honest about that and just let her assume he'd been some sorry orphan but Kael was not in the business of talking about his own history. “I argued with authority figures, got into fights, cause problems--- actually, I don't think I've changed all that much.”
"Oh for sure, I can just picture them wondering where everybody is going and just sees a whole line of people outside of the bakery." She replied, letting a small chuckle fall from her lips at the thought of doing that. It probably wouldn't be good and she herself would have to be the taste tester, so it was put in the back of her mind for now. "I'm sure that you are a really good influence on her, don't sell yourself short. Yeah it really is isn't it, I always wondered if I was like that when I was younger and just lost it as I got older."
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“Ugh, don't make it sound like you're hitting on me,” Kael groaned, rolling his eyes. For the most part, it had just been intended as another verbal jab. He didn't pick fights unnecessarily and he certainly wasn't looking for one now but, even so, Kael had never been one to sugar coat or play nice. “And I wasn't talking about the way you look, I don't care about that either” A hand propped up on his hip, he craned his head past the other man to get a glimpse of how close his bike was to being done – no luck, it was all behind closed walls. Then, eyes wide and brow furrowed, Kael turned his gaze to him once more. “Your abilities?” he said. “It's sex, not a fucking sport.” A pause and he shrugged, the sarcasm still laid on thick. “S'just a little impersonal, don't you think?”
The grin was, and this should come as a surprise to approximately nobody, not reciprocated. In fact, all Kael offered in return was a bland, tired look, not even enough energy behind it to be a glare. His body was begging for sleep but he didn't have time for that shit, there was too much on his plate. “What makes you think I'm stressed?” Kael asked, frowning. It was true but he hadn't said any of that out loud. Kael was good at hiding his emotions. It was a skill that had been practised over years and he'd practically made an art of repression. This had come from a place of necessity, a means of survival in a cut-throat world, and now it had become second nature, as natural as breathing. To have a stranger act like he knew what was going in Kael's head irked him, like a spotlight shone right in his eyes. “But you're right, I don't need anything from you,” said Kael, calmly, although the setting of his jaw might just have betrayed his irritation. I don't need anything from you or from anyone, I'm fine as I am.
“For the record, you never offered me the other stuff, just said I couldn't have it. Right now, you asked me if I wanted it, so that is help offered.” The fact he didn't want the help was irrelevant. Kael finally crouched down to collect his cigarettes from where they lay discarded, and now dampened and dirtied beyond use by the snow, and stuffed them into his jacket pocket. He'd throw them away later. Without standing up, he looked back over his shoulder and said, “Before, you said you enjoyed watching me trip, so why are you trying to help me now? Make up your damn mind.”
Benny shrugged. He tried to ignore the chaos, but was unsuccessful. Being nice cost too much energy so he decided to save it for the later job of vacuuming his car. The other seemed incredibly stressed, and he thought against attempting to make it better or make it worse, not his problem. Wouldn’t probably not even do a good job at it. Even if he offered the wipes, he was sure he’d be able to fuck it up.
Benny chuckled. “Eh, don’t judge a book by its cover, might not look the part but I have experience.” He winked at the other. “And good reviews, could call you up a few if you’d like, sure those will tell you what you’re missing out on.” He couldn’t remember who, but someone had suggested to him that maybe he’d do better becoming a porn star. Didn’t sound like anything he’d like, but he figured it meant his skills were good enough to be considered. He did like a good fuck, and he did aim to be one. “Wouldn’t call it bragging, just being confident in my abilities. Need a stress ball then? Got one in the car for when I’m in traffic. Or wait, that’s help that’s not being offered right.” He grinned. “You wouldn’t accept it.”
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“Ey, I say you go for it,” said Kael, with an eager grin, a mischievous glint in those devious eyes, “Add it to the drinks menu. Caffeine-boosted milkshakes, give the diner some good competition.” He wondered, just for the briefest moment, if there was even room enough in this town for multiple weird milk-based offerings, after the Milk Bar had been set up? That said, even putting aside his loyalty to his fellow Bastards, he'd probably still sooner buy a drink from the bar. “All the manners she has, sure,” Kael sighed, “Don't know if I'm the best influence but I have to try, right?” He'd definitely taken for granted how impressionable kids could be. “Heh, cute. Crazy what we think they don't pick up on, but she was probably working away at that thing and hoping the whole time it'd help you.”
"Oh yeah there are some places I have been to that have been so sweet that I couldn't finish it." She admitted with a small shudder. "Honestly that doesn't sound like a bad idea if I'm being honest with you, maybe a strawberry milk or something, might have to test how good that is." She pondered looking at him with a little smile. "Really?Well that's good to hear, I bet you taught her all the manners she has." While she didn't have children herself, she had a niece that she looked after quite a bit so knew that it was like to clean after the messes of children. "I think so too, they are very empathetic, I remember my niece giving me a daisy chain when she noticed how down I was one time. I thought that was very sweet."
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KAEL EDITS ( #03 )
#« 𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥 » / 「 visuals. 」#feeling really normal abt this look not going insane AT ALL#anyway this is kinda kael coded thank u <3
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“They make some really sweet ones in some places though, eh?” he said, scratching at his temple with one finger. “The ones that are more flavour syrup than coffee. Though at that point, I think you're better off drinking flavoured milk with some caffeine powder thrown in.” He certainly wasn't getting hired as a coffee ambassador any time soon, that was for sure. “Actually, she's pretty good about mess. Not perfect but she tries,” said Kael, with a satisfied grin. Hana was a handful in her own way, sure enough, but not badly raised. He had to hope some of this was his own doing and his kid's good behaviour wasn't solely the work of her mysteriously vanished mother. “Although maybe she just feels bad for me, having to clean up for her all the time. Kids are pretty smart, I think they know deep down when their parents are stressed out.”
"Yeah, it's kind of starting to taste like that to me now too." She couldn't help but let a small chuckle fall from her lips. She was staring to take her coffee in different ways, like in her cakes, in a way she preferred it that way. However tea was becoming her new favourite thing and was even trying to come up with some recipes that involved tea. "A Coke, coming right up."She replied with a gentle smile. "Ah don't you worry about it, I'm sure that it will be enjoyed, I don't think kids care about the mess that they make. Not a tall order at all, I will get all of those ready for you now, should be ten dollars when you are ready."
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"I'm not the type to go abusing my supposed power to make others do my job," said Kael, with the quirk of an eyebrow. "I get paid for all that, you know, and I happen to think getting paid for someone else's work is a little pathetic." Sure, the gang was something of a ragtag little found family but, all the same, a job was a job and Kael took the matter of worker's rights seriously. Perhaps more seriously than needed for the gang, all things considered. Still, in an attempt to assure Taka it was all in good humour, he flashed a quick, if somewhat half-hearted, grin – acting chipper when you feel as though you're one minor inconvenience away from smacking your head off the nearest wall is no easy feat. “I wouldn't call it a mountain,” Kael frowned, although he excepted the cigarette, and the lighter, with a grateful nod and made quick work of lighting up. “Maybe it wasn't that obvious, maybe my head's not screwed on right today and I just missed it. Hard to say.” For someone who spent so much of his life on the back of a bike, and for someone who often sped over the limit all in the search of pure adrenaline, he was (perhaps even to a point of concern) prone to distraction. “Poor deer,” he added, taking a drag of his cigarette, one that felt well-needed. “I'm used to avoiding 'em, mind you. It's moose that scare the shit out of me.” He doubted there was any wild animal living in the British isles that came anything close to matching them in size.
With another drag and a low shake of the head, Kael waved the question off. “I ain't got anything to complain about that isn't tangled up in a hundred of other complicated shit.” Kael had never been one to spill his guts, to verbalise his emotions in any meaningful or digestible manner. He'd built his walls up high, always having found the pressure of holding it all in less daunting than anything resembling vulnerability. It wasn't like fate had done much him much to convince him otherwise either. Trust did not come easily to him and it was nothing personal; he had nothing against Taka, he probably even thought decently well of her. “To keep it brief, the gang's been a mess since I got here, I ain't sleeping right and, on top of all that, I've got a kid who--" Really takes after her father? Maybe even a little too much? "Eh, she's kind of a troublemaker. Y'know, just the usual problems on my end."
"Well, far be it beyond me to assume there's some spare minions runnin' about who could help—or do it all for ya." Disgust contorted perfectly carved features at the calamitous reveal. "Soz, but how in hell do you not see a mountain of shit before driving into it? The hell was going on?" Straightening up from the casual lean against their car, Taka popped open the door to reach inside, grabbing their lighter and pack of cigarettes out of the cup holder. "Back during uni, living in North Carolina, I ran into a couple of deer with my car." They offered a fresh cigarette to Kael. "In my defense, though, it was always dark, and those fuckers are quick and kinda hard to dodge. Left a real nasty dent in the hood of my car. It was like a rite a passage to living 'round there, they told me." Taking a cigarette for himself, he perched it between his lips and lit it before offering the lighter to his companion. "Excrement the only thing fuckin' up the day, or you got a list of complaints on top of it?" She didn't mind listening, acting better as a sounding board rather than a good fount of helpful advice—bitching always made her feel better.
#« 𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥 » / 「 replies. 」#« 𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥 » / 「 & taka. 」#anyone: hey kael what's wrong kael (grimacing): well rn it's the fact u ASKED me what's wrong
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Ah, fuck. As if it trying to hack through the permafrost with only a shitty collection of tools, half of which he'd swiped from his own garage and were not intended for any purpose outside of repairing broken motorbikes, hadn't been enough of a headache, they'd been caught in the act. Just their fucking luck that, after scouting out the cemetery for hours to ensure nobody was around, someone would show up right as the pair got to work. “Stop shining that fucking thing in my eyes,” Kael groaned half-heartedly, tossing aside the shovel he'd been gripping and leaving it to make a loud and unpleasant clanging sound as it hit the ice. It was only once his eyes had adjusted to glare from the torch that he finally placed the intruder's identity. “Oh, hey Marisol,” is what he chose to say instead, opting for a cheery greeting that clashed quite terribly with both the look of horror written across Marisol's face and the creeping sense of dread crawling up from the pits of his own gut. Somehow, he doubted the fact he was friends with her brother wasn't enough to help him save face here. “I know this looks...strange but we're just, uh...defrosting something, honest.” Technically speaking, this was not untrue. He nudged Bastian in the side with his elbow. “Ain't that right?”
( @nosilhovette )
anchorage graveyard, february 29th @rebelscaped
If Marisol could be counted upon for anything, it was following through with her promises. When Cyrek had tumbled in through her front door and she nursed him back to a state where he could return in better health to his spouse and children, she knew what she needed to do — no matter how many warnings need be heeded, she was going to sniff out the culprit and see that they remained in binds for the rest of their days. It's what such a lowlife deserved for tormenting her family, who had all done questionable things, yes, but none of whom deserved that kind of disrespect and brutal upheaval of grief. She equipped a bulky flashlight, steadying it like a camera on her shoulder as she crept through the woods so that she could approach her brother's gravesite. When she crossed the threshold through the tree line, she found herself stuck in place as the blinding light of her torch caught on two figures hacking at the permafrost serving as a barrier to a grave. "What the fuck are you doing?" she spoke up loudly, her voice echoing throughout the cemetery as wide eyes looked upon them, horrorstruck. While it hadn't been her own brother's grave they were defacing, it was someone's, and that hadn't been permissible in her book.
#« 𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥 » / 「 replies. 」#« 𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥 » / 「 & marisol. 」#« 𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥 » / 「 & bastian. 」#hopefully it's not weird kael knows who marisol is since he IS good friends with cyrek hehe#also hopefully this is works! i didn't wanna delve into the actual plot TOO fast so everyone got a chance to set up <3
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