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 Posted: Sun Jan 09, 2011 1:21 pm
The sun was setting on Destiny City, heralding the end to a long workday and signaling the coming of nightfall. Light filtered through the buildings, throwing an orange glow along patches of dirtied snow that still lingered here and there. The blistering cold weather that had led to the horrors of Christmas Eve could have been forgotten -- would have been if such a feat of memory were possible.
Normally, Paris would have made the most of such an afternoon, put off his school work in favor or greater things, but after a recent turn of events in his life, his interest in such things had been notably affected. He had no school work because he had since failed to attend class, thus there was nothing to put off. He spent all of his time away from the Hillworth campus, and most of his time away from home, wandering around searching for a distraction, for something fun, for something or someone worth the effort.
So far, he was sorely disappointed.
Paris ripped his arm out of the grip of a domineering hand, narrowing his eyes into a glare. During this evening’s jaunt around town, he’d had the misfortune of running into an old fling -- not one of his favorites, if he were to be honest, not because the man had been bad but because he was so foul. He must have sunk low that night, he thought, or been the victim of a rather thick pair of beer goggles.
“I said ‘no,’” Paris told him, not bothering to lower his voice and keep their altercation private. Let other people see. His companion surely wouldn't want any witnesses, but Paris was beyond the point of caring. He simply wanted to leave and either find someone else or return home alone.
“Come on, don’t play hard to get,” his antagonist replied. He wasn’t attractive -- all lank, greasy hair and yellowing teeth. He tried to reach out as if to grab him again, but Paris evaded him.
There was a brief altercation. Paris continued his refusals, adding a few insults into the mix that certainly didn’t help the situation at all, but in his current mood he was unable to control the impulse to speak his mind. Tempers flared and Paris found himself on the receiving end of a stinging slap. Momentarily stunned, Paris was slow to retaliate, but eventually did so in the form of a punch to the face, successfully forcing the other young man away from him. Paris noted blood leaking from his opponent’s nose and turned to flee before the necessary payback could be given.
He frowned as he went, hearing enraged shouting behind him but not bothering to look. He didn’t hear the guy running after him anyway, and as long as he wasn’t followed he’d be alright. It wasn’t as if certain people hadn’t gotten especially grabby with him before. He could have done without the slap, though, and lifted a hand to rub at his stinging cheek as he hastened his way down the sidewalk and as far away from the scene as he could get.
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Posted: Mon Jan 17, 2011 12:41 pm
In winter, when the sun disappeared long before its due, Anthy especially treasured sunsets. If he could manage it, rather than lingering at school, he would race home the quickest way possible so he could cast off his school books and bag and wander about in the last few rays of sun, letting it gild the edges of his face, his hair, his patched-at-the-elbows coat. This evening he followed it as it gracefully eluded him between buildings as he went westward down the hill, ever onward towards his unreachable goal. Simply the sight of it made him feel warmer, more at home.
Shouting, some of it rather uncouth, jolted him out of this rather poetic train of thought. Rather a ways in front of him, where the hill finally ended, some kind of trouble was brewing--either an unusually slim young woman or an unusually epicene young man had just been slapped by a much larger man in an athletic jacket. Anthy winced internally--after what he'd seen at his aunt and uncle's house, domestic violence wasn't something he could really bear to watch. Not sure what to do--the man Anthy had concluded was the "aggressor" was quite a bit larger than he was, as well--Anthy slowed down a bit, unable to take his eyes off the scene. He was glad to see the victim-as-it-were punch the larger man viciously hard and take off up the hill, towards him.
He kept his eyes on the man in the athletic jacket, hoping he wouldn't follow his victim (he didn't); thus distracted, Anthy didn't notice when he was nearly run into by what he realized was most likely a young man. "Ack!" he said, jumping backwards, and when he didn't get a response, he followed the other boy on impulse. "Hey, you okay?"
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Posted: Mon Jan 17, 2011 4:46 pm
Paris hardly realized he'd even run into anyone. He was so intent to storming away as fast as possible that he hadn't noticed another young man in his path, nor did he really register the presence of another person as he brushed by him, to filled with anger and annoyance to do much more than grumble about people always standing in his way.
The voice brought him to a halt, only because he could tell it was he that it was speaking to. He swung back around to see who it was, taking a moment to decide whether he knew the other boy or not. He couldn't be sure. He never was when people approached him. He thought he should pay more attention to the people he allowed in his company, and then maybe such hesitation wouldn't occur the next time he saw them, but the fact of the matter was he had very little interest in others aside from what they could do for him, and so his memories of them were often vague and centered, more or less, on himself.
"Yes, what do you want?" he responded quickly, a bit harsher than necessary, but he wasn't exactly in the right frame of mind to be polite. "I'm not in the mood for games, so if you're thinking of having some fun, forget it. Go find someone else to help you get your rocks off."
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