maskormenacelogs | girl, you're such a backstabber

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girl, you're such a backstabber

WHO: Edgar Nolastname & YOU
WHERE: Heropa, FL
WHEN: October 7th, throughout the day.
WHAT: Meet Edgar, your newest war-torn dystopian orphan!
WARNINGS: Blood (dried), J-walking.

a. FORK IN THE ROAD.

[Edgar looks like shit.]

[This cannot be emphasized enough. Tired, pale, and covered in grime at the best of times, Edgar's now added a rainbow of dried blood to his repertoire. Most of it is on the front of him, as though he was recently fighting a bleeding enemy, but there's a sticky puddle formed around his back, and a hole torn the fabric of his jacket, right in the center of the stain.]

[Edgar doesn't seem bothered by any of that, though. Edgar is standing completely still, a look of total, awe-struck wonderment on his face. He's staring straight up at the clear, blue sky, and the sun shining through the clouds, as though it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.]

[He's also standing right in the middle of the road. It's not a very busy road, so he hasn't gotten hit by a car yet, but... well, yet.]

b. READING RAINBOW.

[Do you have a house in Heropa?]

[If you've got an outdoor mailbox, someone is going through it. Someone named Edgar. Looking down the street, he's done this to the last few mailboxes down the way. He's pulling the mail out, opening it, and reading it before tossing it aside on the front lawn and moving over to the next.]

[Edgar's face is scrunched up in quiet concentration as he goes over each word, sounding them out slowly. He reads each aloud, stumbling over the bigger words. Hope you weren't getting any private correspondence!]

c. WHAT WOULD YOU DO FOR A KLONDIKE BAR?
(As this would clearly only happen once, this prompt is only open to the first person who replies to it. First come first serve!)

[Edgar is having a staring contest with the barrel of someone else's gun.]

[Well, let's start at the beginning. Do you know how great Hostess Snacks are? And do you know how many of them are in the average convenience store?]

[Edgar had wandered into a gas station Kwik-E-Mart and discovered the essential goodness of zebra cakes, though he's yet to have the rules of commerce revealed to him. When he started opening boxes of food at the back of the store, he got in trouble with the man running the front counter. When he laughed it off, he only got further in trouble. Words got heated when he tried to walk out of the store with hands full of food. Eventually, the shopkeeper threatened to call the cops, and Edgar threatened bodily harm. Hoping to defend himself, the shopkeeper pulled out the gun underneath the counter.]

[And then you walked in the door.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ It's a few hours before April gets home from work and is greeted by a series of odd (but barely noted, everything as odd here) events. Like the fact the mail has been taped back shut and possibly ironed by the raccoons in an attempt to make it look fresh again. Which. Whatever. she just goes past the table...

And beholds other raccoons washing apparently every piece of Tupperware they have. She stops in the kitchen, considering this for a moment. Before finally pointing at one of them.]

Take me to the culprit.

[One of the raccoons invariably leads April to the perpatrator: an eighteen year old boy, covered in soot and blood and grime, sprawled out asleep on her sofa. If the raccoons are in a cleaning mood (who can tell?) they're probably trying to clean the tracks of soot and god-knows-what-else Edgar has smeared across the house. He's sitting in a grimy circle of muck like Pigpen from Peanuts.]

[He sleeps through all of this, wheezing slightly from a time that his nose was broken when he was younger. He's muttering something in his sleep, his leg twitching like a dog's, but otherwise, he's out cold.]

[ And there was a new filthy kid in her house. It probably says something about her life that April has doesn't immediately know who was to blame for him being there. There's Grey and his train nightmare land he could have come from, or Thomas and his hippie children of the corn as another option. Baltimore and it's...Baltimore could be to blame. Or it was possible Will might have just thought he looked enough like a stray dog to pick him up and bring him in. Possibly the guy just broke in and ate all the food and everyone else assumed someone else had brought him.

All of these were possible, and April absolutely did not care which one was right. What she did care about was that he was on the gaming couch and she was finally done with work for the day. She wanted that couch, therefore actions were needed. Lucky for her, in a house of animals there is never a room where a water spray bottle is hard to find. She picks up the nearest one and aims for his face-

Then shows some small amount of good judgement (much as she considered them family, those train and corn kids tended to carry knives, better not to maybe shock one that badly) and aims for his shoulder before squirting the bottle at him like the kid were a misbehaving cat.]

Muh- [Edgar mutters something incomprihensible, and tries to roll over and away from the water.]

[Unlucky for him, he rolls right onto a raccoon trying to clean up his muck. The thing smacks him in the face, and he screeches and falls off the couch.] Oof, would you keep it to yourself, you-...

[He looks up at April, then back at the raccoon.] That yours?

Mmhm.

[ She's keeping the water bottle on hand, just in case. Of something, she didn't know. But calling the raccoons mean names seemed like a good thing to train a guy out of. ]

Whose are you?

[What is it with these people and animals?]

[Edgar blinks at her a little dumbly.] Mine. [That's a point of pride, but-] What about you, eh?

[ Still could be anything from random hobo to Tommy's long long husband. Fine. Whatever.]

Yanni's. But that's a dark deal outside of the point. You're grossing up my couch. And if you're an independent contractor, you're the one that's gotta fix that.

[Oh, what the hell.]

What's in it for me, then? [He's smiling like he's entirely too pleased with himself.]

Not being on the naughty list.

[ It's entirely deadpan, no anger or sarcasm to be heard. But the arms are getting crossed over her chest. So help her, she will hose him down in the house if needed. ]

[Edgar pretends to consider this.]

Think I'm already on that.

[He's not sure what he's being stubborn about, or why, but he's sure he's gonna win it.]

Not mine. Yet.

[ And good idea or bad, that spray bottle is coming back up to be aimed at him again. It's a squirt to the face, or him reacting before she can pull the trigger. ]

[Edgar lets himself get sprayed, because, really, is that so terrible? Is this supposed to be some kind of punishment? The water's warm and cleaner than Edgar. He closes his eyes and tries not to let it get up his nose, but remains otherwise unfazed.]

Right, then. What about now? [He's just being annoying for the sake of it, now.]

[ April frowns for a second. Doing things wasn't fun if it doesn't get a reaction. But at the end of the day, it's a kind of stoic she can respect. Or something like respect. So she drops the spray bottle, letting a nearby raccoon catch it and return it to it's proper place. ]

Now you can get the full size spraying. You. Grossman. Shower. Go.

[And then Edgar asked the most stereotypical question that someone of his hygienic standard could possibly ask:]

Uh. Shower of what?

[ What is her life. ]

Sanity. C'mon. I'll show you. If you're not too scared.

[Whoever this lady is, she clearly knows how teenagers work. Edgar leaps to his feet.] Reckon I can handle it right better than you could. [Lead the way, raccoon queen.]

Please. I was born to fight coconut scented lather.

[ She has lived in this house too long. That is what it came down to. Too many rebel teens to not know what to say (and the whole her being a huge brat herself thing. Not that she'd accept that one). But she leads him to the bath on the second floor (just incase sane people visit and don't want to hear the screaming) and points that tub/shower combo. ]

In.

[ No stripping. The clothing needs to be cleansed, too. Though a fire might be the only thing that fixes that problem. ]

[It's so... white and shiny. It doesn't look real. Edgar goes to inspect, running his fingers over the porcelain and plastic. For the first time, he notices the smears his soot-covered hands make. He forgets that with his back turned, his companion could easily see the bloody hole in his jacket where he was stabbed.]

[He's bathed before, of course, but the water was shared between several, in a metal tub. What's he supposed to do with this? He looks back at her skeptically.] You having a laugh?

Not yet.

[ Not thinking about things too hard was April's bread and butter for survival, so the bloody hole is noted...and pretty much just moved past. There would be time when he didn't smell like death on a summer day in bacteria beach to think about it.

Now? Now she just turns the shower head on full blast and steps back. It's set for medium warm temperature, but enjoy those moments it takes to actually warm up to that.]

[As predicted, Edgar flips his shit. That... may be an understatement. Edgar howls and reacts on pure instinct-- cold is death-- and flings his jacket off in one swift, panicked movement. It flies through the air, wet, bloody and disgusting, heading straight for April.]

[Edgar then dives out of the shower, smearing grime and soot everywhere along with him. That's where he stays, panting and hugging the tiled floor.]

[She is now covered in dirty jacket. Awesome. But rather than Dealing with that, or the boy in the floor, she picks option 3. She drops the jacket onto the ground and, now that the water is warmer, steps into the shower herself to rinse off the grim from her shirt. And, you know. Just get soaking in the process.

...maybe she went a little too far with this one.]

Look- just. It's cool. Okay?

[Well, that was embarrassing.]

[It was the shock, really. Edgar's been cold, far colder, than that before, but he wasn't expecting it and made a mess of things. Only in being in such a clean place does he realize how dirty he makes everything.]

[Luckily, Edgar doesn't really have time for shame or embarrassment. Well, not too much of it, anyway, not right now. Maybe later. He folds the emotion up and sticks it in his metaphorical pocket, to be examined at a later date. For now, he's got to make sure he doesn't let this woman show him up. He stands, still faintly damp, and manages to only slip once on his walk back to the shower. Smiling awkwardly,] Ah, sorry about that. Weren't expecting it. Let's see here... [He reaches out, and the water's warmer, much warmer. His smile is more assured, and he wanders more fully into the shower's spray.]

[Now that they're both standing fully clothed in a shower, it seems the time to ask.] Who're you, then? You live here?

[ Well, she's here. No need to go running off. Not when there's a part two to this process. She holds out her hand to him, ready to shake as if this is normal instead of two 'adults' standing soaking wet under a shower head while fully dressed. ]

April.

[As far as Edgar's aware, this behavior is completely normal in whatever strange, Trainless world from which she hails. He's trying to keep an open mind.]

[They shake hands.] Oh, yeah. You're the one with all the- [He tries to remember the word.] The raccoons. Grey told me. Uh- Edgar. [He points to himself, still a little unsure how, precisely, normal introductions work.]

Oh. So train nightmare.

[ It's almost a question, but not quite. He could still just be some random guy Grey brought home, but that wasn't usually his style. So...

Well. Whatever the case, April's shirt is more or less clean now, so she steps out of the shower to drip on the floor. Then turns to grab a towel so she's not actually facing him. The whole 'privacy' thing more for his sake than hers, what with the cold water prank and not getting stabbed for it.]

You need to strip now.

over the reading rainbow (after Grey drags him in the house and food is everywhere)

the picture of raccoons ironing mail will stay with me forever

:3 they do everything

what good raccoons............

by the power of ~magic~

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