Sea Salt and Stitches [Open] - Printable Version

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Sea Salt and Stitches [Open] - Leahweird - 11-17-2018

(ooc: I hope I’m doing this right. Leaving this in Miscellaneous because I’m still not 100% certain what genre it will end up being, but it sure is contemporary)



Tahl and Jorah were not welcome in the greasy, edge of the neighborhood diner where they found themselves lingering. The fact that they had ordered only water was only the first of their sins. They fell in the category of “Youths”, probably too old for high school but young enough that they really should have somewhere to be in the middle of the afternoon. They were ragged, pale, and looked like they had recently jumped in a laske (because they had). Most suspiciously, they both had respirator-like masks covering half their faces. Tahl imagined they must seem like gang members. Or drug addicts. Possibly both.

She had to keep pulling her mask away a little to get her straw to her mouth. Jorah has clearly given up on his. He was stretch out to his full (considerable) length, dangling his legs off the edge of the booth so he could lean back and close his eyes. He looked dried out and exhausted already. Tahl would have bet his gills were red under his mask. Things were getting to be harder than she thought they would be.

She dipped a finger in her glass and flicked a droplet of water at him. He just grunted. Not getting the reaction she wanted, she sighed and settled her head in her hands. After a minute of concentration a tiny whirlpool formed in the centre of her glass, the straw spinning wildly.

~Stop That.~ Said her brother’s voice in her head. He still hadn’t moved. ~Someone’s going to notice.~


~We’re already pretty noticeable,~ she retorted, also through the link they shared. There was no point arguing with him aloud.

Jorah shifted in a way that might be taken for a shrug. ~Everything else can be explained. You’re going to get us caught~

Tahl huffed audibly, but let her drink settle again. Instead, she changed tactics.

~I want a hamburger~

~We have to save money.~

~We could split it?~

Jorah finally opened his eyes to give her a quelling look, but she could tell he was smiling behind his mask. Unfortunately, he noticed how many looks they were getting and started to stand.

Tahl mock scowled at him for looming. Most average sized people were taller than her. Jorah towered over her. If he’d been built less like a refrigerator they would look a lot more alike, gender aside. They had the same black hair, green tinged pallor, and sharp features. It was probably for the best that he wasn't shorter. The sameness creeped people out already.

Sighing again, she took her brother’s hand and let him drag her out of the restaurant. As the door swung shut behind them, a sink on the kitchen overflowed.

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RE: Sea Salt and Stitches [Open] - DamnTheTorpedoes - 11-17-2018



Patrol car number fifteen slowly turned off the main drag and onto the quiet, or seemly quiet streets of the seedy Black Chapel district. This jungle of roughly eight city blocks was a neighborhood you'd want to avoid in the daytime, after dark, it was downright dangerous. The two officers in the car were tense, their heads on a swivel. The stale smell of cheap coffee, mixed with onions from their quick fast food dinner and the more acrid smell of Officer Daniels pack a day habit made the atmosphere in the car rather oppressive.

“Why are we on this beat again?” Officer Mayer's grumbled, peering down a dark ally as they drove by, noticing the slight movement at it's end- some of the druggies lost to their high, or some of the working girls trying to catch a moment of rest before finding another john- but nothing worth him getting out of the patrol car for. Officer Daniels glanced over before putting his eyes back on the road,

“Because the department is trying to safe face- budget cuts mean we can't do shit out here. But the captain wants us to at least do a drive through to show concerned citizens that we're at least trying- it's a smoke screen kid. We can't do shit anymore- hell it's gotten so bad out here I heard the local pimp has organized his own neighborhood watch. You know we're on the ropes when the people we're trying to put away are doing our jobs.” there was a strong note of bitterness to his voice, and one couldn't blame him, too many years on a weakening force had sapped Daniels of his enthusiasm. He was simply putting up face to make it look like they could do something about the Black Chapel district, he sighed and turned, heading back towards the main road- time to drive through another broken neighborhood.

As the patrol cars taillights faded, the street seemed to come back to life. Front porch lights on the houses switched back on, the front door to the abandoned house on the corner where the working girls brought Johns cracked open. The owner of the corner store flipped his sign from “closed” to “open and turned back on his harsh florescent lights, and the little neon sign that told the nights lottery jackpot- $235,000,00 to be exact.

“Okay everybody- pigs are gone. You can com out now.” His voice was hoarse as a old crow and his closely cut black hair was tinged with frost. “All clear- either buy your stuff or get out.” He chuckled and headed behind the counter to ring out the few patrons who were caught in the store when the warning came down the block about the patrol car. He looked up when the door's tiny bell jingled, a tall thin man had entered, hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his head to shade his face, but the old store owner knew, and smiled.

“Hey there Luke, I haven't seen you around in weeks, was beginning to think you finally overdosed on those damn gummy bears and died.” Luke's shoulders shook as he made a sound not unlike a flooded car engine struggling to start. “Damn boy was that a laugh? You got a cold or something?” the storekeeper didn't expect much for an answer- the younger man wasn't much for talking. Luke shook his head and headed down one of the store aisles, he was on a mission, the goal of which became clear when he put a packet of Gummy bears and a bottle of water on the counter, The old man laughed and rang him up,

“Hell Luke you're the only brother on the block who's addicted to these gummy things like one of the kids.” Luke shrugged again in a helpless way and put his purchases in his backpack, nestling them amid the seven cans of spray paint that were currently living in there- he had a busy night ahead of him.

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RE: Sea Salt and Stitches [Open] - Leahweird - 11-19-2018



The plan had been to make their way back to that lake they found. Maybe spend the night there. Get a fresh start bright and early the next morning. But they were from out of town. They weren’t from any town. So retracing their steps turned out to be less simple than they thought. Instead they ended up in what was clearly the bad part of town, even to outsiders.

Tahl apparently didn’t care. She kept darting ahead of him to point out some new thing Which was fine, he could catch up pretty easily if he needed to. She was just being very...buoyant. Even though they were both equally tired, equally scared that someone would catch them. He knew she was faking being fine (he couldn’t help that) and part of him wished she wouldn’t bother. But he also knew that she was doing it mostly for his sake, so he didn’t say anything.

~Ooh, fire hydrant,~ she said, looking back at him with a suggestive eyebrow waggle.

~Don’t even think about it. We’d get police or something coming out, ~ He glanced at some of the darkened buildings. ~We’d be better off trying to see if there’s an empty apartment where the plumbing still works.~

Tahl clapped her hands to her face to hide a gasp. A patently silly gesture when no one could see her mouth. ~Jorah! That would be breaking and entering!~

He snorted.

She looked like she might say something more. In fact she definitely would have teased him further, she they heard something. She tilted her head to listen. ~Hissing?~

He glanced down one of the little crevices in between the buildings and gestured. And of course she was darting off to go investigate in a flash.

Shit.

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RE: Sea Salt and Stitches [Open] - DamnTheTorpedoes - 11-22-2018



Ksssssshhhhk, Ksssssshhhhk, Ksssssshhhhk,

The soft hissing of the spray paint bottles broke the almost stillness down the alleyway. There was still the hum of the midnight traffic, the gentle sounds of the nightlife, but back here it was almost silent, almost pitch black except for the one light coming off the back porch of the Grandma Nelson's apartment house- it was a ancient outlier in the city, when the neighborhood wasn't so poor, a big rambling Victorian, it's front porch long gone, it's back porch hanging on at a crazy angle, half of it collapsing into the packed dirt yard between the house and the cinder block wall of the row of stores and houses behind.

It was here in this yard, behind this house, and against this cinder block wall that Luke had set up shop. His backpack sat on the hood of the old Chevy on blocks- when was the last time it had ever driven on the road? Luke had a suspicion One of the Roosevelts were in office then. and across the hood he had laid the rainbow colored cans of spray paint, the water bottle and the now open bag of gummy bears.

Ksssssshhhhk, Ksssssshhhhk, Ksssssshhhhk, with each hiss a new swath of color was added to the wall

“Now Child,” Grandma Nelsons's high wavering voice broke through his focus and he turned to look back- there she was in her frumpy nearly threadbare pink housecoat, loafer slippers and her hair, neatly wound around the pin curlers, that were hidden behind a turban of toilet paper- a trick to perfect curls that Grandma Nelson swore by. “Now Luke baby I want that to be tasteful back there, I have little ones living in the upstairs apartment- the one with the big picture window they can see right into this yard. I don't want you painting something bad back here for the babies to see.” She smiled, clutching her whiskey glass to her chest- her nightcap of the last forty-something years- a couple fingers of Jack Daniels, and exactly three ice cubes. “I hate that ugly old wall... never liked it when the built the row back in the day, I used to have climbing flowers, ivy and sweet peas growing on it, but my knees can't take gardening no more....” She took a sip, “You're a sweet boy for making my wall pretty again. I remember the garden I had back here- My mama had one before me. Big old victory garden during the war you know. Daddy got some big old barrels from the pickle factory he worked in, he sawed them in half and Mama, Daddy, my brother Charles and I all planted a big old garden- it was good eatin.” she sighed again at the memory, that was when the house was a fresh white, not the dirty drab gray, the grass was always neat, the flower boxes never weedy and the windows weren't covered in tinfoil to keep out the drafts. “Those were the good old days....” she mused as she shuffled back into the house, “you have a good night Luke baby-and be safe!”

He waved as she shut the door, and he heard the chink of the lock turning, she switched off the back porch and he was left alone with his paints, the wall, and the darkness. It didn't bother him though, he was used to it, it was comforting- and if one could see in the dark like himself, it didn't bother you much. He turned back to his painting, adjusting the respirator over his nose and mouth, indestructible as he was, his asthma and the fumes from the paint can's were not a good mix, besides he didn't want Miss B. getting mad at him again for damaging his lungs- he already did that once this week, two was pushing his employers good graces.
He added an artistic dash of purple before the sounds of footsteps made him pause- someone was coming down the alley.

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RE: Sea Salt and Stitches [Open] - Leahweird - 11-25-2018


Tahl had never been known for her impulse control. Unless you counted how remarkably bad it was. So when she heard a funny noise, that she could not seem to place in her limited scope of identifiable sounds, she had to go see what it was, bounding into the ally with Jorah silently berating in her head.

She only caught a glimpse of the shadowy figure in the hoodie.. The moment she approached the hissing suddenly stopped. He - she thought it was a boy, but she didn’t think anyone was giving out gold stars for guessing - turned his face towards her for second before disappearing at a run with a clatter of cans.

“Wait!” She called, her voice tinny and muffled from behind her mask. It didn’t do any good of course, the guy in the hoodie was not turning around.

Jorah was practically right behind her. ~What is that stuff on the wall? Paint?~

~Jorah, did you see him? What he was wearing?~

It was highly unlikely that the mask was anything like what they were wearing. Theirs was highly specialized equipment, after all. Unique. But there used to be others like them, and if the twins ended up here by chance, it was possible some assumed gone sibling might have too. It’s not like they could trust anything they were told….

It was enough of a reason to pass the image of what she remembered along to Jorah. He sobered immediately, sobered for him anyway which was barely a shift in expression, but she could tell he understood how significant this was. Could be. Probably wasn’t but hope was a powerful drug.

~He ran from you~ Jorah cautioned.

~Then we’ll have to chase him a bit.~


Jorah sighed, but gestured for her to go ahead, and this time when she ran he was right in step with her.

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RE: Sea Salt and Stitches [Open] - DamnTheTorpedoes - 11-25-2018



Luke took off the moment he realized the woman running down the alley was after him, not running from something. Something about her set his skin crawling. It wasn't the black clothes or hair or makeup, it was the respirator. He'd seen things like that before one upon a time and his memories weren't fond ones. He didn't want to wait around and see what she was after, in case she worked for them, and was after him like the last one was.

He glanced behind, his face still hidden in the dark shadow of his hoodie, she was still there following. How the hell could she run in those outlandish boots of hers? It was like something Phoebe would wear to one of her RAVE dances, not something you walked the street with at night.... He mentally paused, his feet still pounding the pavement as he skirted around the corner store and headed down Leveret Ave.

~Was there a Rave or Dance tonight? No, it was a Tuesday, and Phoebe hadn't mentioned it too him, and she always did....but then again she wasn't as “Gothy” as this woman behind him seemed,~

He glanced back again and felt a pit in his stomach, he wans't losing her she was still on his heels and joined by another.

~Fuck.~

The woman had shouted for him to wait as soon as he took off, but she didn't sound threatening , not like the other one who came for him last week. This woman sounded excited, almost hopeful. He slowed his run slightly- jogging past the mechanics garage.

~Could be lost ones?~

He skittered to a stop and turned to face them, head cocked on one side like a mildly confused golden retriever- studying them as they approached, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, ready to flee if they tried anything.

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RE: Sea Salt and Stitches [Open] - Leahweird - 11-26-2018



Chasing after a mysterious figure that only Tahl had actually seen was maybe not the best plan. Neither of them were really built for running, but Jorah was at least better at it than she was, and he understood the need to at least try to catch whoever it was, no matter how fast the guy was.

They had both been hit hard by the loss of their various siblings, but he wondered sometimes if it had been worse for Tahl. She was better at the psychic shit than he was. So they both had personal pain, but she had a new hole in her thoughts where another person used to be. So she kind of needed to learn that one of them had simply escapes, in a way they both knew was probably impossible. Plus, their masks were only unique on the inside. There design was based on things that there were probably plenty of in the outside world.

Still, she cared about it so deeply, and if he let her she would probably keep chasing until she actually did herself an injury. Either from busting a lung or something from the exertion or falling off her ridiculous shoes.

They swerved around a few corners, and suddenly their target stopped in his tracks and turned to face them. Jorah had to grab the back of Tahl’s shirt to keep her from slamming into him. For a second it was a bit of a faceoff, all of them staring at each other. He was actually only assuming the guy was staring. They couldn’t actually see his face still in the poor light.

The twins must have look pretty weird to him though. They were off looking people to start with, and the first thing they had done after getting both freedom and funds was get new clothes. After all their lives spent in virtual uniforms, they felt it was fair to treat themselves that way. Tahl had gone a little overboard with her look, maybe. Experimenting with makeup was probably a misstep, since it was more often than not a dribbled mess. Jorah was much more comfortable in his jeans and tank tops. Still nice and dark though. He didn’t think he’d ever wear anything sterile and white again.

“Um...Hi there,” Tahl said, and amazed her brother by taking off her mask despite the fact that they were both gasping for breath already. “Sorry to scare you. I’m Tahl. This is Jorah. Who are you?”

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RE: Sea Salt and Stitches [Open] - DamnTheTorpedoes - 12-01-2018


“Um... Hi there, sorry to scare you. I'm Tal. This is Jorah. Who are you?”

The question was simple enough to answer, or it should have been. For almost anyone else it would have been easy- this was the first question one got asked meeting new people ”Who are you” But for Luke this wasn't some simple answer, for sometimes he himself didn't know who he was.

He stood so long in silence just letting his thoughts wander that he started when he came back to reality- he did it again dammit.... he always did that got all damn philosophical at the worst times. He swallow. They both were still waiting for an answer, the girl looked hopeful, the boy? Luke wasn't sure what his facial expression was but neither of them seemed threatening.


Pulling his hands from his pockets he mimed at his mouth and shook his head he hoped they'd get the messege.

quickly he pulled his phone from his pockets and began typing, his jegged bitten off nails making a dull tapping on the peeling screen protector-he really should get a new one... he kept glancing up at the two strangers before him, hoping they'd get what he was doing, and to make sure neither of them were trying anything. Finally done he showed it to them,



Waiting until both had read it before beckoning them to follow him- pointing at a looming dark building. It was the gutted remains of the old catholic church- the black chapel for which the neighborhood had been named. Fire gutted the once bueatiful building almost a hundred years ago, but enough was left it was deemed to expensive to tear it down so it remained- still scorched looming over the few blocks, and it was one place Luke knew they'd be safe- no one ever went there on account of the “Ghost”

He started down the sidewalk, hoping they'd follow. This was turning into a far more eventful night then he had planned when he sneaked out earlier. he was just going to hang around his hood, paint a little, maybe try to cover the gang tags by the clinic and then hit the greasy spoon diner before the breakfast rush, before heading home- now? that plan was shot. its not like he could take these two around the neighborhood- if they were on the run why were they dressed like wannabe edgy Instagram models? He understood wanting to be an individual, he respected personal choice and freedoms- but when you were on the run theirs was not the getup you usually went for.

He pulled out his phone again and began to type, this was something worth reporting back to his employer. Miss B. Would want to know about this, this was potentially big....really big....and really bad.

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RE: Sea Salt and Stitches [Open] - Leahweird - 12-07-2018


Tahl’s heart sank as they waited for him to respond. He didn’t seem to recognize them at all. They didn’t look that different, even if Jorah was a giant now and they has changed their style. There had been “siblings” that couldn't share thoughts with her and others that couldn’t speak at all, but the odds that there was one they hadn’t known who had also escaped but didn’t show any other signs that he was like them...They had chased a complete stranger. His mask wasn’t even very like theirs. She put hers back on to breathe better while he fiddled his phone.

That seemed kind of an odd thing to do, not that she was a great judge of normal behavior. He didn’t seems to be ignoring them all of a sudden. They couldn’t exactly see his face thought, so he might have been. Then it occurred to her that since he apparently couldn’t talk, if she was interpreting his gesture correctly, he needed some other way to communicate. That was cleared up at least when he handed the device to them to read.

Tahl lpeered at the screen, frowning. He was on the run too, but from who? Was Luke’s “Them” the same as theirs? She and Jorah didn't really know how far they needed to go to be out of reach, and that was a real problem. Luke was offering to help, but could they even trust him?

She glanced at Jorah, but he just shrugged, not even bothering to reply with words. She couldn't’ blame him. He was looking much worse after their run, that had probably been a mistake. Now they were running out of time to find some water. And safety if Luke was right and the streets themselves were hazardous. They didn’t really need to discuss it anyway. The risk was obvious. They could be led just about anywhere.

When Luke started walking away, she decided to follow, grabbing Jorah’s arm. If they were led into trouble, all they had to do was stay together.

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