sorry for not having posting any replies / starters in a while, i’m so busy w/ uni. just today i need to attend a wine and cheese party with possible future employers (help meeeee) after my translation class, plus a conference on networking. anyway, just writing in french tires me. t - t
anna, and a stranger — sheltered by the dark blue of her umbrella — wait at the intersection, though at this hour not the throbbing of a single car could be heard. however slight was the breeze, it carried the sound of old water snaking through the city’s puzzle of pipes, and leaves, or waste, softly tumbling in the distance.
overhead a large lamppost is buzzing, that is before the rain begins again. naturally averse to being wet, anna inches closer to the woman: mousy measly steps that she herself does not notice. then the light turns green, anna’s hand grabs the stranger by the elbow, holds her back.
« oh ... hm, a- are you going this way? » she means ahead, where her index points momentarily. « if you are... i think there’s enough space for the both of us, under your umbrella. » anna’s eyes, sweet and dark become apologetic, seeing as she’s obviously startled her. « ... if that’s not too much trouble! » even if her grip weakens as she speaks, her arm stays connected to the other, for emphasis. the girl’s face, whose profile she could only see before this moment, has an air of honesty, her eyes are almost too clear.
starter call | @wasgentle
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there was a lot of noise but lucy can’t pinpoint what it all meant. it was important, she knew, something important, something big happened, but she couldn’t remember what it was. there was crying, shouting, and lots of dust in the air. the noise sounds like it’s coming from underwater, and lucy looks around for…anything, anything that’s familiar, anything that rings a bell ( wasn’t she with eustace? weren’t they meeting peter and ed? ) and soon she spots, not a family member, but a friend.
anna was being dragged away, and lucy can only follow. there was something red upon the girl’s brow and people kept crowding around her — ugh why couldn’t they just go away? “anna what’s going on?” lucy asked, or at least thought she did. she kept close to her friend’s side, following along as they moved away from the dust and distant noise.
it’s all shrillness. and movement. a crowd — so tight and near it feels trapped in her head; the only body part she can get a hold on, and even, barely. too many hands are on her, it’s impossible to deduce how many bodies carry her own. soon the natural yellow of the outside, in an unexpected flash, becomes white, heavy on her eyes. the pain surfaces, then — she gasps — every joint of her cringes. it gets worse with the coughing, she fears that her skull will crack like glass, that her ribs will slowly open in fissures.
through the shuffling, she hears a tone, more so than a voice, a rhythm so particular to lucy that it reaches her, even with her condition. most of her tension disappears, hearing it. her mind remembers the cozy interior of the train, and then...? she can’t think, as she feels herself slouched over a mattress, more poking around, her hair being parted. did something happen on the train?
she is hurt, lucy is fine. but she was fine too, there is nothing to understand. « what’s happening, » anna complains, « what’s happening..? » her shoulders roll left and right, fighting against her limp mind and limbs. she doesn’t realize, but the hurt is not simply in her flesh, it goes deeper, « does my sister know? » she asks, panting, whining like a sick child. anna didn’t think lucy would come, and stay with her, even if she was hurt or ill. they hadn’t really come together. and it makes everything feel odd, that she came, like it’s not real...
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it begins with a few blinks, eyes clouded with confusion as they peer at you – until realization clicks, hard, like the sound of a gun being cocked, and they offer an oh, hey stiles. like it didn’t tear straight through your heart; like it didn’t seize up in your stomach, twisted and unwelcome, eating you from the inside out. THEY’RE FORGETTING YOU, slipping through your trembling fingers, and you can do nothing but watch your own murder. // ©
No, this is ridiculous, you’re just asking for trouble.
The voice of reason echoes in her mind over and over as she studies the woman near her, and she knows this is going to get her into trouble. True, she doesn’t intend to rob her, for even Chel the selfish has a bit of humanity left in her, but she doesn’t want to get involved with someone who might bring her even more complications.
But the woman seems so lost; it reminds Chel of a small little lamb without anything ahead of her to guide her. Perhaps that’s what bothers her the most, for Chel cannot tolerate weak people. Even so…well, if she were a man, the woman wouldn’t even bother looking twice at her, for she’d know there is nothing of interest she can offer, but she still has a…let’s say soft spot for women, as stupid as it might be.
With a heavy sigh, trying to push away the scolding voice that still resounds in her mind, the one that says ‘steal her belongings and run away’ Chel approaches the stranger, eyebrows furrowed and wary steps, “Hey, you need some help?”
it’s needless, that she kneels by the display stand, slouched all over the aisle: that her arms cradle the poor cracker boxes like one would a lover’s injured body, soon to capitulate. but even if she put her whole might in reconstructing the stand, it would not be done until a few hours, and it would not be properly done, anyways.
and though she knows only an ass would leave without noticing an employee, that’s still a bit... a bit embarrassing. oh but then, a woman’s voice that, for a second, sounds as frightening as a roar makes everything she had just accumulated in her arms drop. « oh, » she says, not bothering to turn her head towards the stranger, « would you? i mean. i do need some help but maybe that’s not... oh wait! are you an employee? yes! yes! i’m so sorry, i tripped... and i don’t see very well. i don’t see much at all, so... »
anna makes the effort to stand, dusts off her designer overcoat with her small leather gloves. she dislikes wearing anything to cover her hands, it’s strangely suffocating, but it’s cold out already.
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❛ do you need help with those ? i mean, my hands are free, so i could carry them for you, if you’d like. ❜
« oh.. that’s -- sure, yes. » as she replies, anna catches in extremis one of the ball his voice prompted out of her arms. over ten of them, flashy and pressed against her chest, that was enough of a ‘red’ signal, especially since they kept falling out. bending over to retrieve them meant losing more along the way... she’d just go back later. one day she’ll learn not to do everything all at once; all in one go. just not today. « thank you, » she says, passing the balls, « there’s just so much of them. and these balls are kinda squishy so it’s harder to grab them right... »
wow, anna. way to be weird.
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❅.
“Whoa, whoa,” he’s quick to call out, hand darting out to grab the girl by her wrist. It’s to prevent her from almost running into the pole ( what a hazardous place for a pole, really ). “Might want to mind that pole there.”
« oh, wow. yes. that -- yes. » she can feel her voice bouncing against the dull grey of the pole, colder from metal, an inch, or maybe two, that’s not the question, from her face. anna swiftly moves back, and liberates her wrist while she’s at it. maybe she wouldn’t have minded the grabbing so much had the guy’s haircut been... not this blond mess. « thank you! i’m curious though, ‘you speaking from experience? » it’s not long before she’s recovered from the fright, grinning with a hint of mischief.
« it’s her? » yes, it’s her, the carrot top hans vaguely gestures towards; the other anna who stands near, both arms describing better than words (jumbled she assumes) whatever she’s on about.... her friend’s eyes are just that wide. « this’ll look like a set-up if we just -- »
« well, this is a set-up. you set this up. » hans cuts her, and she knows he’s scoffing because she’s worrying about her first impression, worried that she’ll not find any resemblance -- hans does have some sense, but for kristoff she’s not too sure -- and so what if it’s a set-up, right? she just wants them to meet in a pleasant, controlled atmosphere. with shared friends to save the day. just in case it gets awkward; which, they both agree, is a legitimate concern. « i don’t know. i really don’t see it... she’s definitely shorter than me and i don’t wiggle around that much. come on. »
« ooooh, trust me, you do. besides you haven’t seen her face yet. » « anna is a very common name. very. » anna’s nose is already too close to his. « jesus. all you have to do is say hi. » « fine! but i’m just doing this so i don’t regret. this is a scam. » her index pokes his chest.
when the two of them get into anna #2 and kristoff’s space, the latter is quick to greet them. « seems like you guys were fighting over there, » the other anna finally turns and she stares, feels herself staring, but can’t budge her pupils, or face, or body away. « ahhhhhhhh, no, no, no! » she assures shaking head and hands, eyes still on the vibrant ginger of anna #2′s hair.
« she’s always like that, » hans says too seriously. « ahah, no. he’s just kidding. » « anyway... hi! » and there is no ambiguity to whom anna addresses this charming, flowing ‘hi.’
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She doesn’t understand why she’s still thinking about it. It was nothing much, they told her to cut and she did, she did only what someone e l s e told her, and yet, the ADRENALINE, the excitement doesn’t seem to be leaving her any time soon. ❝ I did that. ❞ It’s weird to speak the words, it doesn’t feel like it was actually her, like her memories are covered in some film that won’t allow her to see them properly, to FEEL them properly. But they’re there. ❝ I did that. I saved someone today. ❞
A smile is on her lips, the kind you can’t shake off no matter how much you try. It’s notpride, it’s not somecalling, her only purpose is to get board certified and then leave to make her own family, her own happily ever. But for a moment, this makes her happy in ways she could n e v e r find the words to describe. And she’s an English graduate.
« What kind of saving? » It must be the eventful kind, with the salience of Sansa’s cheeks and insubordinate smile, but Anna cannot further guess. Was it some sort of heroic leap, budging a passerby from charging headlights? Belated cry from the tires, chest slamming the other to safety, all of this in like, two, or three seconds, she imagines that’s how it went. It must be some sort of reflex, in such a situation, a feeling so shocking it either freezes or pushes you, Sansa the latter. A reflex you never knew you had in the first place. Now Anna looks at her like any child would at 9AM clutching a book as large as her chest, thick with cardboard pages. « I’m sure it’s hard to explain — but try! »
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shiro’s not fully aware of what happened until a weight lands on his thighs and he looks down, sees the fallen carton. it registers then – the shaking of his hands and the empty chair beside him. warmth lingers in that spot, and the smell of something he can’t name, but it has him dropping his food to the table, rising, stepping outside. a thin hoodie with more holes than is practical does little against the rain but shiro pulls his hood up anyways, hands stuffed in the pockets as he makes his slow trek over to the occupied corner.
his senses may be duller than they were in his prime, but this woman’s body language reads like a neon sign. awkward, awkward, awkward. for her sake, he pushes such observations to the back of his mind, stops before her far enough to be polite, yet let his low voice be heard over the rain. he smiles, too, quick and brittle, even though he knows she can’t see. it’s a habit from brighter days, one he clings to. some good parts of himself he won’t lose.
＂ –––– sorry if i startled you. i didn’t mean to. i probably should have said something right away –––––––––– sorry, again, for that. ＂ rain beats down relentlessly on his shoulders. shiro can’t remember when he stopped standing so stall, hunched down instead. ＂ah & my name’s shiro, & well, if you’d like, you can come back inside. i wouldn’t mind the company. i’d really appreciate it, actually. ＂
« shiro... » from the tip of her lips, she mutters his name. giving him, surely, the impression that she’s one mad woman; who tolerates the rain and speaks only loud enough to hear herself. it’s with one long gulp that has her chin raising, black sticky hair dragging on her neck, that she says « if that’s how you feel — then yes, okay. »
company is too big a word, if anything she’s a late-tv partner with no notion of sharing. when the old man was still there, she’d comment on the storyline, nose almost pressed to the screen, and he’d neither agree nor disagree ( she didn’t mind, his voice buried the actors’ ). whenever she asked it of him, he’d describe extravagant clothing and scenes with no care for details. anna couldn’t quite picture the outrageous wealth of many of these characters.
if only she could reach through the screen, curl her hand on the rich protagonist’s chest, just to brush her fingers against the satin of his pocket handkerchief, up to the smooth curve of his jaw and skin. instead, she’d hear the echo of hot tires on cement, drunk friends shambling about the street while she tried to ignore the stink of the parking operator’s breath. ah, it’s all coming back to her now.
once they get back inside, anna sits with her legs pressed tightly together, both arms resting over the crack of her thighs. « thank you, » she says, « i don’t like the rain, » something anna needs to clarify. « well, i don’t like to walk under the rain. since i can’t hear well. » already, she’s smiling, because she’s always been very accommodating, knowing she wouldn’t live as easily if she did not make an effort to be pleasant. « what time is it? » it’s abrupt, her question, as abrupt as the thought that the drama might’ve begun without her.
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Steps taken into Annalise’s humble ( though perhaps PROUD was a more fitting term ) abode. Welcomed by a new face she immediately took as competition, perhaps a new student to possibly replace one of them in the internship. “Who are you?” Letting it slip out more casual than what the momentary panic may induce. The anxiety quickly soothed through a mask of confidence, one of the top students in her grade, riding by scholarship more than anything really, and definitely better prepared than some in the group who seemed to get in through favoritism or their daddy’s position and money. She had earned her spot, and Michaela was not going to let it be ripped away.
the purse is a gift, all gloss leather, elegantly held by a thin strap; one she pinches and stretches like a toy hooked over her stomach. on anna, the antique seems out of place, as if she’d borrowed it from her aunt’s closet. and that’s how she waits here, rather inoffensively, shy looks away from the ground, chapped lips pressed tightly. someone in this room will answer the question. though, finally, the blatant silence points to her, « oh me? i’m anna, i — annalise needed an interpret for this case.. so here i am, » she blinks, « is that why we’re here? ‘cause i’ve no idea, really. » annalise couldn’t share much info over the phone, just that she had to be there by eleven am. « i’ve never done that kind of job before, i hope it’s not too intense, » she laughs, relaxing a bit, « hopefully no good cops and bad cops... and no jigsaw killer types... »
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