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Post by TRISTEN HARDING on Mar 15, 2011 13:18:05 GMT -5
What he was witnessing as he walked down the streets with no planned destination was nothing more than a pretence to him. It was an alien feeling, something he himself had never experienced and didn’t really have any reason to or any expectations to feel in the future. Love. The sappy stuff, the stuff most movies seemed to be based around. The stuff that makes everyone stop in the middle of the bloody path so they can drape their damn hands over each other and stick their tongues in the others mouth repeatedly. Right now he really wasn’t in the damn mood to put up with brushing shoulders with everyone who walked past or ahead of him.
Unlike most people he was taking his time, the male walking with his hands casually in his pockets, eyes watching his feet, unblinking for abnormally long periods of time. The weather was miserable, cold and the air damp. Tristen shuddered, even with his jacket down up he was still uncomfortably cold. To the average person is was probably mildly chilly- and they complained about it being cold? Ha!- But to him it was like winter weather. It was days like these that he could just throw himself under his duvet and sleep, curled up and warm.
But, alas, he had had to work today. But now was one of the wandering moments, the time between ending work and getting home that- no matter the weather- he would just walk around. Today his feet had carried him, it appeared, to one of the more busy parts. The museum. Apparently the attraction was quite popular, dead people and animals and ancient trinkets and fossilised samples of mud and old, rotting pieces of clothing of some tribe leader or something... It was creepy, the dead people, the mummies but he carried on walking either way. He was hoping, to all hope possible, that something interesting would crop up.
Being inside now, Tristen unzipped his jacket, a shudder running the length of his spine as he warmed up to a pleasant temperature. That was much better... He had found himself in front of a long glass display cabinet, small fossils decorating the interior, little scrawled notes to accompany them. He leant over eyes narrowing slightly at he read one of the notes. Trilobite apparently. Looked like a plan old bug to him, but according to the information it was some underwater creatures millions of years old. Even not being interested, Tristen sidestepped along, reading all the pieces of information with nothing better to do with his time. Something was bound to be interesting.
Something solid interrupted his progress down the cabinet, he flinched then jumped to the side eyes widening slightly as he noticed it had been a person. Damn. He really should pay more attention to his surroundings. Tristen looked around, no one there except him and this person and it didn’t seem like he had done any damage to their persons. “Sorry.”He muttered, heart hammering nervously against his chest. Just act normal. Act cool. He always put on a confident front, people were more likely to leave you alone if you looked like you could handle yourself, but Tristen was almost certain this person would be able to hear his heart, see the nervous- if not distrustful- look in his eyes. “I didn’t hurt you did I?” It was always best to make sure, ask so as not to offend.
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Post by SARAH RUTHERFORD on Mar 15, 2011 15:52:05 GMT -5
Sarah was knocked back slightly and stumbled, but managed to regain her balance on a piece of the cabinet. She looked up to complain at whoever had barged into her before staring, slack jawed, at one of the most appealing males she had ever seen. It certainly made a difference from the snot nosed brats at the card shop. She blushed slightly, ashamed of herself for thinking these thoughts and comparing the handsome man in front of her to a bunch of children.
“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” she said, her voice managing to stay its usual tone and speed. This was a great challenge to her as she was fighting to internal battle to squeal slightly. She brushed some invisible dust off of her clothing to make herself think she was more presentable, “And it was my fault, I wasn’t really paying attention.” This was true, in fact. She was looking at a shell fossil and sketching it quickly on her pad for part of her art project in school.
She picked her pad up and placed it in her bag, tucking her pencil behind her ear as she usually did, and then looked over the boy more carefully. First impressions aside she could see she was right. His Mahogany hair and blue-black eyes gave him the aura of someone dark and mysterious but the nerves and worry on his face betrayed this. He looked quite bulky but he appeared to be wearing many layers of clothing, it wasn’t that hot was it? Sarah was quite content in her usual Jeans and a t-shirt attire for this weather, maybe this guy was more sensitive to cold?
“I’m Sarah,” she introduced herself, holding out a hand and showing no signs of thinking she was being pushy, “Sarah Rutherford,”
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Post by TRISTEN HARDING on Mar 15, 2011 16:22:33 GMT -5
She was short. A lot shorter than him but he wasn’t really one to complain about someone’s height. She was pretty as well, pink hair and blue eyes matching in a weird sort of way. He was relieved she was fine, it meant less hassle for him and possibly even a quick get away- but she spoke some more. Tristen shifted his weight on different legs a couple of times, coffee gaze sliding across the rest of the room briefly but otherwise showing no other awkward emotion. He had had plenty of practise remaining cool.
He didn’t really know how to reply. Should he say it was his fault really? Or just nod and say ‘yeah you’re right, it was your fault. Now bye.’ Being good in social things would be really handy right about now. He was actually glad when the woman told him her name, it meant he wouldn’t have to reply to the previous thing- names were simple. He could do names.
“Tristen.” Screw the last name. He wasn’t going to be standing there much longer. But then again, would he seem rude? Though Sarah didn’t seem like the kind of person to get mad at something like that. She seemed like someone nice, someone with a pleasant personality. It even crossed his mind that maybe they would end up being friends after their awkward encounter; but those were wild thoughts. Tristen much preferred being alone. He was never good at being around people.
Then the thought occurred to him, like it did most of the time, that maybe she was a SHIFT worker. Maybe she was one of those people that did the experiments or maybe the ones that keep track of all those that were freed? That was nerve racking, but Tristen did his best to push the thought aside. It was stupid. Not everyone worked for SHIFT. Tristen removed his jacket, a plain loose top being revealed underneath. Being under, what felt like, pressure made him feel hot.
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Post by SARAH RUTHERFORD on Mar 15, 2011 16:37:07 GMT -5
Sarah noticed the worry and confusion on the man’s face and smiled, “I know what you’re thinking,” she said with a smile, “I don’t work for SHIFT, I work at a card shop,” She felt relieved now that was out of the way, he had revealed the answer to a question she was too ashamed to ask and also had probably stopped the nervous look, she wasn’t going to hurt him, but then she realised he didn’t know that. “Nor am I Pro-SHIFT, or anti-shifter in any way.
She looked at the boy more, “What brought you to the museum today?” she asked, trying to break the ice and start a conversation with a man whose attention was clearly elsewhere. Breaking the ice was one thing but before long she was sure she’d be trying to impress him or get closer to him in some way. She was just like that sometimes.
Shifting weight from one foot to another like she needed the toilet Sarah waited impatiently for an answer, maybe Tristen was mysterious after all? In the end her impatience grew so much she pulled her sketch pad back out, removed the pencil from behind her ear, and drew a very hasty picture of Tristen on a clean sheet with nothing important on the other side. She ripped it out and handed it him. Oh lord I’m crazy, she thought as she resisted the urge to bolt.
(Üsaine Bolt.)
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Post by TRISTEN HARDING on Mar 15, 2011 16:51:24 GMT -5
He didn’t know why but when Sarah mentioned SHIFT he flinched. What she said probably had the desired effect, he did feel slightly more comfortable- if only slightly. Though he would remain on guard, after all it wasn’t hard for someone to lie. And he wasn’t going to be easily lead. Ever. “That’s... Good.” He managed to say in reply, his voice scarcely above a whisper.
Tristen couldn’t help but feel all the more nervous and self-conscious with the woman looking at him so intently, it made him feel like he looked weird or stupid or that their was a big sign pointing at him reading ‘I'm a snake.’ Rising an eyebrow at her question and resisting the urge to flee he spoke up after a short while. “My feet.” Was the first think he said, not really thinking about his reply before the words escaped his mouth. Ah. When he thought about it that was such a weird thing to say. “I don’t know. Just ended up here.” Better. A much more sensible- not so freakish sounding- answer.
It was funny how she moved how he had when the silence dragged out, though he kept an almost emotionless expression. Though that failed when she whipped out her sketch pad and began drawing. Tristen rose an eyebrow rocking forwards onto the tips of his feet before quickly snapping back without getting much of a look at anything. It didn’t take long before Sarah was handing him the paper. It was a picture of him, and even though the sketch was quick it was good. Much better than anything he could ever, ever, pull off. “T-thanks...?” Was hopefully the right thing to say. “Y-you’re a good drawer.” You couldn’t really go wrong anywhere with a compliment right?
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Post by SARAH RUTHERFORD on Mar 16, 2011 12:21:17 GMT -5
Sarah’s attention was suddenly caught by the fossils they were stood next to. She couldn’t even look at her new acquaintance, let alone speak to him. Instead she hummed under her breath for a minute before realising what he had said. She turned quickly to him and apologised, “I’m sorry I’m acting so weird, I’m not usually like this,” she smiled at the boy and tried to force herself to calm down.
People had started to stare as they walked past now and Sarah tried to ignore them but the gaze from the eyes made her feel as though they were burning into her head, trying to make her more agitated. She glanced at everyone passing her as she hopped from one foot to another and then forced herself to stop, swaying slightly from the momentum. Now was not a good time to seem crazy, not now.
“I’m am really sorry,” she repeated, “Maybe we could meet up again so I can prove it?” She asked this as a test and hoped she would get the reply she desired, a yes. A yes would mean she can prove herself to him and also gives an indication that they were on the right track to be friends. And also she asked this because by what he said about his feet, he was a wanderer and probably wouldn’t want to stay here for much longer, a thought which left her feeling oddly empty.
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Post by TRISTEN HARDING on Mar 17, 2011 11:52:23 GMT -5
It wouldn’t be surprising if a squad of men in white jackets came bursting through to drag Sarah away. She was acting like a crazy woman whose meds were beginning to stop working, half mad half sane. She was obviously in one of those moods and it took quite a bit to stop himself from flat out laughing at her. “Eh. People have their mad days...” He muttered. It wasn’t uncommon really, loads of people that had gone to his school had funny days where they just couldn’t seem to focus. If he ever actually had one himself then it was probably when he had been so pissed off that people literally avoided his aura.
Tristen looked uneasily at the stares the two of them were receiving, the woman before him drawing attention easily with her odd behaviour. He didn’t like people watching him. It made him feel self-conscious and he’d had enough of that for one day already... He was beginning to feel slightly more at ease though. It seemed he wasn’t as much a freak than she appeared to be at the moment... And it occurred to him that they could possibly be friends. Tristen didn’t have- and never really had- friends. But he figured he could handle one or two people that didn’t mind venomous snakes...
Shaking his head he offered a smile; it was rare for him to smile but this seemed to call for it. He didn’t fancy going home. Sarah had peaked his interest. “W-well..” He bucked up his courage, “I'm not really doing anything now. We could-“ Think. What could they do that didn’t involve to much.. “Go grab a drink?” Of anything. Coffee, juice. Alcohol. He like the bite of some alcohol’s and he really fancied one but he’d go for anything. He didn’t want to have to choose..Didn’t want to have to take the lead or anything like that.
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