maskormenacelogs | things just happen so much don't they

[if either of them were smart, Rip would be in front, using his gangly tallness to keep crowds from doing crowd things. oh well.]

From what I've seen, yes. I mean, there's still a lot of similarities? But I've perused De Chima, Maurtia Falls, and Heropa's downtown libraries and found there still to be quite a variety. It's actually one of the few good things about this world -- the selection. It may not be perfect, but then, what is?

[they do not have a single braincell.]

What's lacking?

Well, all the books...they don't feel as satisfying to touch. I mean, the pages do? The pages are...actually really nice! Some are even weirdly silky? But others still have that good, toothy texture that makes it easy to turn the pages and-- [hi Cecelia this is your self-awareness: you're rambling. wrap it up.

hastily:] The book covers just don't have the same feeling and look as back home, is all.

Sorry. I can't relate to that at all. The don't even have books, really. It's all on datapads.

[...]

Toothy? Like... mouths?

What? [she makes a face. wait--] Oh--! No. No, no, like-- Errhh...hang on, here--

[she stops, sidestepping out of the way of foot traffic to open up one of the books, gliding her finger across. then another, and the third, and...]

Okay, here. Feel. This one first. It's really smooth, right? Like almost kinda slippery. [glossy picture book pages!] And then compare to this, [the more standard book.] feel. It's different, right? Like your finger catches a little instead of sliding? It's called having teeth.

[riptide gangles awkwardly as he follows, sticking his finger out to do so. looks at his finger.]

It's not the finger print is it...

It's just how the different papers are made! Apparently there are different processes for diff...different...dif-different...things...

[Cecelia.exe has encountered an unexpected error! her hold on the book slacks and it starts to slide out of her fingers as her gaze goes past him, gazing across the street.

oh, gods. it's him again. that tall, dark, brooding man with the piercing, burning eyes and somber expression and...and cup of yogurt with a chaotic amount of sprinkles.

her ear twitches the very second eye contact is made, her face going sheet white.]

Wuh oh. [riptide yelps a little, reaching out to grab the books before they're soiled by the pavement.] Cece? Was-- was it the paper?

[he snaps the book shut, then pitches it into a nearby bin.]

FOUL MANUSCRIPT!

[because that won't make kylo look over, or anything.]

AH!! [the sound of a book getting dunked startles her.] AHHH?! [the sight of the book in the trash startles her more.]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH! [the sight of being seen by a smoldering-eyed spooky man while being startled by a book being dunked in the trash startles her more.]

NO NOT AGAIN STOP IT!!

[she makes a grab for the trash-book, misses, and just gives up and bolts toward next crossing, banking the turn hard and running like there's a tiger chasing her.]

[riptide isn't a fast runner, but... he has long legs. that helps.]

WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!

Ohgodsohgodsohgodsohgodsoh--YAA! [she squeaks, catching herself on a bus stop sign before she nearly crashes into a stroller. she does a wretched Singing in the Rain impression as she spins around on it, slumping to her knees and looking like a terrified animal.

panting:] He's--I saw him! He's...! Still haunting my steps! Gods damn him!

CEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECE!

[here he comes. riptide skids and thuds HEAD FIRST into the pole, dropping to the ground quite spectacularly and bouncing a time. he pops right back up, no damage done. cept a small gash on his forehead.]

WHO! WHO IS HURTING YOU?! I'LL KILL HIM!

[between the hustle and the loud bonk of an idiot's skull to a pole, Rip's yelling gets her yelling, which gets the stroller-child yelling, which gets others yelling, and there's just lots of yelling! and also a declaration of murder?!]

STOP! YELLING! AAA?! [she clamps her hands over her ears first, but then her mouth, because duh she's part of the problem, and nearly as much shame overtakes her as there is fright as she sees dozens of eyes glaring her way.

she grabs at his sleeve, giving a hissed, desperate whisper:] We just need to get out of here now please!

Whu--what?

[he ignores the yelling child, dusting himself off and looking around a little panicked. when she grabs his sleeve, he nods a little awkwardly and follows.]

I don't understand! [riptide... helps... by roughly shoving people out the way...]

Please, pleasepleaseplease just--! [she squeaks, drowned out by the noise of Riptide just straight up bullying people out of the way. clamping her hands over her ears again, she scurries behind, eyes shut half the time to avoid looking at anyone out of shame.

by the time they've cleared general downtown traffic, her hands are over her face as she whimpers, bumping him in the back when it's time to stop. but the muffled noises don't stop! they are small and squeaky and rather unintelligible. so, you know. Cece.]

Alright! Alright--

[riptide skids to a halt when they're actually away from the main throng of people, looking around a little awkwardly. sighs.

ugh. he has to. doesn't he.

very awkwardly, riptide puts his big long noodle arms around cece and draws her into a gentle hug.

mostly gentle because he would really rather not be doing this. he really hates touch.]

[how great for Riptide that the slightest bit of comfort triggers a response to cling tightly and sob into his shirt!!! it's wonderful isn't it!

endure it just a minute so she can push away and scrub her face.] Sorry! I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorryyyyy...[hic. sniff.] Oh. Oh, I hate this! I want to go home!

[ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh he just pats her back awkwardly, saying little awkward there theres...]

It's fine, it's fine... come on, let's get back. You wanna come back to my place for a bit? He won't know where that is. No chance of him popping up.

[sniffling:] O-okay. I guess. Sorry. I'm the worst ever, I know. But I hate it too, you know!

Cece, you are far from the worst person I've ever met in my life. You know I know a guy that likes to shoot fire because he thinks it looks at him funny?

[he shakes his head.]

Come on.

[she resigns herself to following along, clutching the back bottom of his shirt like some dejected child, which is exactly what she feels like, so she's just going with the feeling.

grimly:] If he does...show up around your place...you better step on him, Riptide...

I'll stomp on him and grind him into paste.

[...]

What does he look like?

[o boy here we go:]

He's, um...he's tall. Like, almost as tall as you now, and...and he has dark hair to here. And a really strong, kind of...kind of regal-like profile? Like, his nose is very distinct. And it balances his brooding expression and sunken eyes really well. Like, like really well. His brow is soft, except to about here...and his whole complexion is quite pale? Like, I don't get it, down here? With the sun being all, erngh? But, whatever. Dark, pale. Tall. Piercing eyes. Kind of a, a square body silhouette, mostly? I think it depends. On the outfit, I don't know. Some of the pictures, are, like...it varies. He's probably more lean than he looks? Like, an imposing sense, but...

Okay. Don't show me a picture on your comm, or anything.

...

[...]

Y...You could've asked me to look for one! You didn't say, hey, Cecelia, do you have a picture? So! Y'know!! Gods!

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knaval - 2019-04-20 18:12 (UTC) - Expand

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adamantlyardent - 2019-04-20 20:48 (UTC) - Expand