[html]
--
IC/OOC text separator
 Crash!!! Matrix's ears slicked back and she instinctively lowered to a crouch, ducking behind some random piece of machinery (in this case, a park vehicle). Bits of metal and wood flew everywhere, and rained down on the earth with a cacophony clangs, dinks, and thunks. As if to restore balance to the universe, the next few moments were filled with an unearthly silence. Realising that she had been holding her breath, the girl now exhaled and put her arms back at her sides. Standing up slowly, her head could be seen to appear over the rim of the toppled jeep. Curious eyes peered at the mess that now littered the earth, and she cleared her throat and stood up straight, glancing about as casually as possible.
Who was she kidding? It really didn't matter--if nobody had noticed the strange hybrid before, they certainly would now. Hardly modest or shy, she shrugged and braced her hands against the side (or top) of the jeep and vaulted over it with ease. Her dog-like tail flicked behind her as she regarded the aftermath--for all of it, the destruction was somewhat intentional. She had found one of those "test your strength" booths, although all of the prizes had been pillaged long ago. Stuffed animals were useless to her, anyway. Rummaging through some of the debris, she found what had originally caught her attention: a very thick rope.
Over the years of rain, snow, and sunshine, some of the bolts had weakened considerably. When she had given the rope a good, forceful yank, a low rumbling foretold the structure's collapse. That was when she had gone for cover. Now, though, she had a rope. Rope was one of several things that she would never turn down: lighters, lighter fluid, good knives, and strong ropes had too much utility to be discarded. Matrix began to wrap the rope into a coil about her arm, and as she did this she stepped lightly away from the whole mess and off to the side. It didn't seem there was anything else of use here.
|
|
[/html]
[html]
indentThe noise had not in fact been the original reason Ahren had come into the park. By all accounts, he had no reason for being in the amusement park. Still, there were several things he could find here that were not in the city—tools, mostly. This was not to say that the homes and stores in the ruins weren’t useful, but their selection of tools was limited. Here, though, he could find any number of things.
indent Of course, his initial goal was forgotten at the sound of the crash. While it was startling, his distance from the site meant it did not shock him. Interest peaked, the dreadlock-toting hybrid made his way over to the origin of the noise. What he found was a ruined mass of scrap metal and rotting wood and a young woman with a coil of rope. That explained what had caused the crash, and amused at the sight of another scavenger (after all, the crossbow on his back, the knife and bag on his belt, they had been taken) he spoke. “So you’re the one bringing this place down.”
[/html]
[html]
--
IC/OOC text separator
Matrix was considering her options. She had a massive project under way, and she couldn't progress much further without striking gold. A rope was useful, but she needed so much more. Her thoughts were interrupted as a masculine voice wafted through the air and settled within her ears. Turning to look, her oddly coloured eyes fell upon a rather handsome young man. His statement caused an amused smirk to flash across her face, and she offered a dip of her head and a slight wag of her tail. "Can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs." She spoke the human expression as though it were entirely natural, although if pressed to say where she had heard it before, she would probably draw a blank. Maybe she had read it in a book once when she was still concerned about reading. That was awhile ago, though--the hybrid now had a much greater interest in doing.
"I still haven't found what I really need, though," she explained. She was starting to doubt that she ever would. Rummaging through the old human city had resulted in the discovery of numerous treasures, but a full-blown glass-burning furnace like the one she had used back home was hard to come by. Maybe if her father were here, he would know what to do. Unfortunately, the roguish coyote was nowhere to be found. He was back with her mother raising their most recent litter. Regardless, such an elaborate thing was necessary if she wished to repair the few broken glass panes of her greenhouse. "I'm Matrix Thirteen," she said, utterly unaware that her mother had once resided in a pack over which the canine before her had reigned.
|
|
[/html]
[html]
indent She offered her reasoning, and Ahren smiled. He stepped over one of the pieces of wood, saddle-back traveling with his muscle movement. The girl, a hybrid by her build and face, then introduced herself. The surname gave him a momentary face, a name, but it didn’t mean much at all. A lot of his memories had gone by the wayside with drink and time. “Ahren de le Poer,” he offered, pushing his hair out of his face and looking down at the carnage around them. “So what are you looking for, exactly?”
[/html]
[html]
--
IC/OOC text separator
The girl made no connections between the wolf before her and her clan's leader. Unless there were innumerable glaring similarities between two canines, she could rarely figure out who was related to whom. Although she had a certain knack for reading others' individual moods and feelings, she had never really understood when somebody would say "you have your father's ears!" or "you've got a tail like your mother's." The only exception to this was how she saw her own parents in herself--the unique swirl of colours in her iris was definitely a gift from Twilight, and her slender, lithe build was most certainly from her coyote father.
"Nice to meet you," she offered with another slight dip of her head. Obviously, it was still too soon to say this with much conviction--but so far, Ahren seemed like somebody she could get along with. "A glass blowing furnace, actually," she said with a mysterious little smile. It wasn't often that somebody was looking for something so elaborate or specific, and she knew it. Fishing around in her bag, she produced the small pipe she had made. It was black with trailing and swirling bands of yellow, green, and blue--much like her own eyes. "It's kind of a hobby, but I'm mostly interested in repairing an old greenhouse I found."
|
|
[/html]
[html]
indent Ahren and Gabriel had very little physical characteristics in common. His son’s build was bulkier then his own, due to a lack of abuse (as far as he knew). While this was not to say Ahren was not healthy, he was lithe and short, and while Gabriel and he were around the same height, his son had weight on him. It helped, Ahren supposed, when one lived somewhere more permanent then random cities he could not recall or on the deck of a ship.
indent Her words made the red-eyed man start a little, made suddenly interested by the idea of the strange contraption. Glass blowing was unheard of in this part of the world. At least, in Bleeding Souls. The pipe she produced drew him like a moth to flame, and he studied it curiously. A stint in Amsterdam and other red light districts in the ragged parts of that old world explained what it was. He grinned boyishly. “What, the glass blowing or the smoking?”
[/html]
[html]
--
IC/OOC text separator
There it was. It wasn't repulsion, it wasn't uncertainty, and there was no hesitation. Matrix immediately understood that Ahren knew what the pipe was meant for, and she immediately appreciated it. Although she couldn't understand why anybody would have a moral dilemma when it came to the use of such a common-place and relatively weak drug, she still couldn't help but feel somewhat naughty for introducing the concept or behaviour to the more "innocent" around her.
His question aroused a slight snicker and a glint of mischief danced about in her eyes, and then she produced a small quantity of the leafy vegetable matter that she thought he might enjoy. "Go ahead," she urged. "You have to use it to really appreciate it. It's custom-made for our kind... you should find it less awkward than a human-made piece." A pause. "And perhaps you could help me look around? Maybe we'll find something interesting."
|
|
[/html]
[html]
indent Addicts know, he mused, addicts always know. The smokers and tokers and whiplashed divas gathered together and formed societies of their own. This girl was a part of that subculture, where so many came and went and were greeted with open arms. Snorting a little at her child-like exuberance, he took the pipe and drew his lighter. Snap, crackle, smoke and there it was, that gentle green haze that was less dangerous then the red dragon he chased.
indent He held his breath for a moment before exhaling.
“That does work better,” he said with a grin, offering it to her.
“And sure, there’s always interesting stuff around these parts.”
[/html]
[html]
--
IC/OOC text separator
She could not help but pay attention to the expert flick of the lighter, just as she could not help but wonder if this guy had anything interest to pedal to her young mind and body: crazy stories, crazy drugs, crazy sex. Sometimes she wondered if she had a disease of sorts--she always did find the fucked up ones attractive. Little did she know, Ahren's history was riddled with such nightmares and demons that even she might be hesitant to pursue. That was saying something.
Her smile deepened and found its way to her eyes for a fleeting moment, as she nodded and decided to set off. Flirtation was not exactly her strong suite, and she had no reason to think it would amount in anything. That left them to work on business. Earlier, she had passed a bunch of tents that did not seem to be the typical ride--those great machines were a marvel on their own, but they just weren't what she was looking for. "Sounds good, I think I saw some tents over this way before."
|
|
[/html]
[html]
indent He could have told her about all of those things. He would only offer two. While it was clear he was sexually active (seventeen children, was the current count) he was not the type to kiss and tell. She would have a right to be wary, when a rapist and murderer was her companion. But they were united by the drugs and the outsider appearance, and at least for the time, were comfortable with each others company.
indent She began to move and he followed, walking near her side while still giving enough comfortable space. “So where exactly are you from?”
[/html]
[html]
--
IC/OOC text separator
Matrix knew enough to know that she wasn't from anywhere in particular. Her parents would always have the spirit of nomads, even though they had temporarily settled during her childhood to assist in the war. "I'm from the battlefront," she told him simply. Although she had long grown bitter and cynical, there was a sort of child-like innocence to her statement. She didn't mean to imply anything more than that, although she assumed it did automatically.
"When I was really little I was kept away from the front lines, of course," she said with a grin; ah, would he appreciate the dry sense of humour? "Towards the end there was a lot of guerilla warfare, too; that kept us on the move, regardless." She definitely was from NoPlace in particular. In a strange sort of way, the greenhouse would become the closest thing to a home she'd ever have.
|
|
[/html]
[html]
indent There were signs all around them that explained these little things. The way she held herself and walked, ready subconsciously for any danger, any attack that might come. Ahren’s walk was somewhat similar, but with one major exception—he was all too aware of the ground under him and knew without thinking where they were walking. Neither of them was truly leading, and there was no rush in their expedition. “That sounds rough,” he offered, tone indicating he felt neither positive or negative about the subject.
[/html]
[html]
--
IC/OOC text separator
"I can't really say I've met anybody whose life wasn't," she countered, her tone matter-of-fact and somewhat indifferent. She had her fair share of grotesque memories and mental images to haunt her, but so far it seemed like nearly everybody carried a similar burden. Few seemed to leave happy-go-lucky lives, especially beyond the blissful ignorance of childhood. Where they differed was how they managed to cope with their respective pasts.
Then, her attention was diverted away from the conversation, and she perked up a little. "Hey, check this out," she said. Two lines of colourful tents stood as sentries on either side of the walkway, and the first one already caught her attention. There was nothing very useful here, but there were strange pictures unlike she had ever seen before. They looked like humans, except the proportions were all wrong (especially on the heads). They struck her very queerly, and although she was interested, it was derived from the "inability to look away from a car wreck" effect. Normal humans were odd enough to begin with, and these ones looked... downright disturbing.
|
|
[/html]
[html]
indent A faint and crooked smile was all the response he offered to her comment, knowing she was right. No one had grown up without some trauma, something that had made them change who they were and rethink their lives. He had undergone this process several times, and would do so soon once more. It was a fact of nature; to survive, the species has to adapt. Just because he would have to adapt to his own mind did not mean this was not mutation, or evolution. It was something quite similar, something unavoidable.
indent The tents and their images were peculiar, and he eyed them as one might regard something in a museum. “I’ve never seen pictures of men like this before,” he said, one hand moving up to the picture to trace the shape of the deformed figure.
[/html]
[html]
--
IC/OOC text separator
"Me neither," she mumbled, clearly somewhat bothered by the strange images. They were unnatural and somehow radically more disturbing than the skeletons that littered the park, and this thought alone was bizarre. "Hm," she finally offered, hoping to dismiss the thoughts along with the tent. Now she moved on to the adjacent tent, which possessed a series of wooden carvings. These she studied more closely--the largest looked like a miniature form of something she had seen somewhere else: it was a to-scale replica of one of the park's wooden coasters, and obviously it was not intended for sale. She decided to leave it where it was--it seemed wrong to disturb it.
Further down the walkway the faded and tattered structures seemed to grow in size. Sparing casual glances toward each, she finally noticed something very exciting: the ground was littered with crushed and broken glass. Stooping down to a squat, she carefully picked up one of the larger pieces and held it up to the sun. It was concave and a magnificent shade of red. Most of the glass here was brightly coloured, and this encouraged her. It wasn't the dull brown, green, or transparent glass found in much of the city. No, this looked like a fragment of something hand-crafted. Poking her head into several of the tents, she sought almost desperately to find the source of the broken glass. When neither of the two nearest turned up any positive results, she frowned and glanced back to Ahren. "I wonder where these came from... maybe somewhere further down?"
|
|
[/html]
|
