cassel sharpe (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ex_gloves423) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2014-07-11 08:31 am
ex_gloves423) wrote in maskormenacelogs2014-07-11 08:31 am
open.
WHO: cassel sharpe and you.
WHERE: heropa, florida. (including residence #035).
WHEN: 6/11.
WHAT: cassel getting his broody teenage introspection on around town.
WARNINGS: soooo many spoilers for black cat.
[ florida is the last place cassel wants to be. the last place he expected to find himself, when he sped away from new jersey in his flashy sportscar, to lie low with lila until the furor over the dead fbi agent and governor patton's speech died down. the heat, as barron used to say, is on. but that didn't mean they had to slum it. lila's family had more money than cassel has ever spent in a lifetime, and that includes his wallingford prepatory fees. but instead of living in penthouse suites on his girlfriend's father's dime, here he is in sweltering heropa. ]
[ the town reminds him a little of carney, where he'd spent his summers growing up. that had been a quiet town, a place for old curse workers to retire, an elephant graveyard. heropa has more youth, more vitality — well, just plain less old people. but it's still sleepy, smaller than the cities cassel is used to. but in one way, it's so far from carney that it's laughable: no-one wears gloves. ]
[ it had shocked cassel when he first saw it. he'd shied away from the hands of the woman as she gave him a form, with everything he already knew about himself printed neatly inside it. (it's as though they want to tell him that they know, that they know he's a criminal already, that he's hyperbathygammic. they want to know that he knows.) later, he'd been uncomfortable in the crowd with the others, his posture tense as he eyed all their ungloved hands. it was obscene, like waking up in a world where no-one bothered wearing clothes. he'd kept to himself, made a concerted effort to exert his own personal space, but he hadn't been able to stop staring at the blue-veined wrists of the girl across the aisle from him, the freckle on the back of her left hand. ]
[ even now, as he walks through the sunshine, straining for a hint of breeze on his sweat-damp skin, he's unnerved by the sight of an older woman walking her dog bare-handed. it's weirder now that he knows how many people are workers here. people aren't just limited to one type, either: he's seen people talking about things like strength and flight, about mind control from afar and lighting fires and changing into animals. but he guesses it makes sense: with cursework that never needs to touch you, gloves aren't any sort of shield at all. ]
[ cassel keeps his on anyway, sunk deep in his pockets as he walks, trying to work out how he feels. he'd left wallingford without saying goodbye to his friends, or to grandpa or barron, or even telling the dean. at the time it had been an impulsive, easy choice. but now that he can't even call them, let alone go back, cassel wishes he'd let them know something. it's hard for him to admit, but they're going to be worried. ]
[ at the same time, there's a sense of total relief at being here, in this place where no-one knows who he is (except the overbearing government presence, but after a year double-crossing the fbi, he's more than used to that.) even being away from lila feels good. he doesn't have to love anyone, or consider if they'll get hurt because of his actions. he doesn't have to listen to their ideas of what he should do with his life, how he should use the powers he's been gifted. he doesn't have to spend every day around people who seem to like him waiting for the catch, for the debt to be called in. he doesn't have to be a singer, or a sharpe, an agent or one of zacharov's guys. he can just be cassel. ]
[ the problem is, he's still not sure who that is. ]
the library
[ he's at the small library every second day. he isn't going to go back to school when school returns, but he wants to learn a little more about the differences in a world without curseworkers. so he's a regular feature in the history section — or leaning up against a shelf reading about many worlds theory, thinking about a universe made entirely of shrimp. ]
the used car lot
[ he could be doing so much better. he could have this town in a snap. he's a transformation worker, a mob assassin, he's meant for the big leagues. but once again another opportunity to be normal has presented itself, and cassel has leapt upon it. and once again, he's unable to resist running some small-time cons while he settles in, even though he knows that's not what people do at all. ]
[ he's basically working for a buy here, pay here company. as far as he can tell, his job is to talk people with bad credit (or unregistered imports with no credit) into buying a used car with a downpayments and interest scheme they can't afford, on a contract that allows instant repossession if they later default. ]
[ maybe he's talked you into stopping by. ]
import residence #035
[ speaking of normal, cassel is a pretty good housemate. dorm living has taught him to do well sharing close quarters with others, and trained him out of the messy hoarding his family had practiced in his childhood. he keeps things clean and quiet, but he never, ever goes anywhere near anyone with bare hands. ]
[ right now he's wearing yellow rubber gloves — instead of his usual elbow-length black — and whistling some pop tune lila liked while he washes all the dishes. come help dry? ]
WHERE: heropa, florida. (including residence #035).
WHEN: 6/11.
WHAT: cassel getting his broody teenage introspection on around town.
WARNINGS: soooo many spoilers for black cat.
[ florida is the last place cassel wants to be. the last place he expected to find himself, when he sped away from new jersey in his flashy sportscar, to lie low with lila until the furor over the dead fbi agent and governor patton's speech died down. the heat, as barron used to say, is on. but that didn't mean they had to slum it. lila's family had more money than cassel has ever spent in a lifetime, and that includes his wallingford prepatory fees. but instead of living in penthouse suites on his girlfriend's father's dime, here he is in sweltering heropa. ]
[ the town reminds him a little of carney, where he'd spent his summers growing up. that had been a quiet town, a place for old curse workers to retire, an elephant graveyard. heropa has more youth, more vitality — well, just plain less old people. but it's still sleepy, smaller than the cities cassel is used to. but in one way, it's so far from carney that it's laughable: no-one wears gloves. ]
[ it had shocked cassel when he first saw it. he'd shied away from the hands of the woman as she gave him a form, with everything he already knew about himself printed neatly inside it. (it's as though they want to tell him that they know, that they know he's a criminal already, that he's hyperbathygammic. they want to know that he knows.) later, he'd been uncomfortable in the crowd with the others, his posture tense as he eyed all their ungloved hands. it was obscene, like waking up in a world where no-one bothered wearing clothes. he'd kept to himself, made a concerted effort to exert his own personal space, but he hadn't been able to stop staring at the blue-veined wrists of the girl across the aisle from him, the freckle on the back of her left hand. ]
[ even now, as he walks through the sunshine, straining for a hint of breeze on his sweat-damp skin, he's unnerved by the sight of an older woman walking her dog bare-handed. it's weirder now that he knows how many people are workers here. people aren't just limited to one type, either: he's seen people talking about things like strength and flight, about mind control from afar and lighting fires and changing into animals. but he guesses it makes sense: with cursework that never needs to touch you, gloves aren't any sort of shield at all. ]
[ cassel keeps his on anyway, sunk deep in his pockets as he walks, trying to work out how he feels. he'd left wallingford without saying goodbye to his friends, or to grandpa or barron, or even telling the dean. at the time it had been an impulsive, easy choice. but now that he can't even call them, let alone go back, cassel wishes he'd let them know something. it's hard for him to admit, but they're going to be worried. ]
[ at the same time, there's a sense of total relief at being here, in this place where no-one knows who he is (except the overbearing government presence, but after a year double-crossing the fbi, he's more than used to that.) even being away from lila feels good. he doesn't have to love anyone, or consider if they'll get hurt because of his actions. he doesn't have to listen to their ideas of what he should do with his life, how he should use the powers he's been gifted. he doesn't have to spend every day around people who seem to like him waiting for the catch, for the debt to be called in. he doesn't have to be a singer, or a sharpe, an agent or one of zacharov's guys. he can just be cassel. ]
[ the problem is, he's still not sure who that is. ]
the library
[ he's at the small library every second day. he isn't going to go back to school when school returns, but he wants to learn a little more about the differences in a world without curseworkers. so he's a regular feature in the history section — or leaning up against a shelf reading about many worlds theory, thinking about a universe made entirely of shrimp. ]
the used car lot
[ he could be doing so much better. he could have this town in a snap. he's a transformation worker, a mob assassin, he's meant for the big leagues. but once again another opportunity to be normal has presented itself, and cassel has leapt upon it. and once again, he's unable to resist running some small-time cons while he settles in, even though he knows that's not what people do at all. ]
[ he's basically working for a buy here, pay here company. as far as he can tell, his job is to talk people with bad credit (or unregistered imports with no credit) into buying a used car with a downpayments and interest scheme they can't afford, on a contract that allows instant repossession if they later default. ]
[ maybe he's talked you into stopping by. ]
import residence #035
[ speaking of normal, cassel is a pretty good housemate. dorm living has taught him to do well sharing close quarters with others, and trained him out of the messy hoarding his family had practiced in his childhood. he keeps things clean and quiet, but he never, ever goes anywhere near anyone with bare hands. ]
[ right now he's wearing yellow rubber gloves — instead of his usual elbow-length black — and whistling some pop tune lila liked while he washes all the dishes. come help dry? ]
Residence...hi, roomie!
Oh, hi! Do you want some help?
no subject
Sure. Thanks. I think there's a dishcloth next to the fridge.
no subject
Great! Do you want me to wash or dry?
no subject
[ he wants to keep his gloves on, even if they're rubber, so he opts for door number two. ]
Dry.
[ he takes the measure of her while he dunks the next plate, trying to decide if the friendliness is a facade or not. ]
no subject
[Winry holds out her hand for the dishcloth, since he wants to dry.]
But it's nice, too!
residence!
You don't have to do that.
no subject
[ he gives a self-deprecating shrug, looking down. ]
Habit, I guess. I swear I'm not a neat freak.
[ the corner of his mouth pulls up in a private joke: he lived in what was affectionately known as "the garbage house" through his whole childhood, the product of both his parents being hoarders. ]
no subject
Let me. [ america's rolled up her sleeves and moved to stand beside him. ] They were my dishes, after all.
no subject
I uh. Sure.
[ he's blushing, trying to get it together before he says something stupid about her hands. but he can't seem to stop staring. ]
no subject
Something wrong?
no subject
[ there's a ragged, hesitant edge to it, which isn't like cassel at all, and he immediately pulls it together. ]
Not wrong, exactly. I guess I'm just not used to people exposing their hands like that.
Roomie but let's be different and say library
Al's shifts his helmet to look at the boy and points to a book on the other side of him.]
Excuse me. Could you hand me that book? [There isn't a lot of room down the aisles and he's learned that his hulking suit of armor doesn't do well trying to get around people.]
no subject
[ it had really only caught his attention out of the corner of his eye, as an odd library decoration. finding out it's animate... well, he doesn't know what to do. is this normal? he looks surreptitiously around, trying to judge a) how other people were reacting and b) if they were reacting at all. but surely he'd know if he'd gone crazy? ]
[ he definitely doesn't pass it a book. ]
no subject
But for some reason this guy isn't just staring. Instead he's looking around at other people who are pretty much used to Alphonse at this point. He does spend a lot of time in the library.]
Are you okay?
no subject
Can anyone else — is anyone else seeing this??
[ he sounds a little worried. ]
no subject
I'm not a hallucination. Everyone else is mostly used to me since I come here every day.
HAVING FUN ISN'T HARD WHEN YOU'VE GOT A LIBRARY CARD
Pardon me, [ she says, smoothly maneuvering past the boy, as she already thinks of him and, no doubt, will continue to think of him for the foreseeable future. it's not as if he's standing in front of anything -- just near enough to hamper matters. once cassel is no longer an imminent obstacle, her focus shifts from him entirely. though she's still in his personal space, technically speaking, and continues to speak, she scans the line of bindings as if he weren't there at all. ] I hope you don't mind [ she doesn't care in the slightest ], but--
[ lust has a high-necked, long-sleeved (well, medium-sleeved. she has to make some concession to the humidity.) blouse on, as she usually does. where the fabric comes to an end, just above her elbows, there's nothing but the black and red material of her gloves, reaching out to grip the spine of a book. the most immediately noticeable word on said spine is genocide! absolutely nobody's surprised. ]