Haha, Viv’s right about that, actually. Although I keep thinking in my head that it means 15> because uh, hey I was never much for real media painting LOOK A RON!
Haha. Commence blatant character bastardization. (And bad writing, for which I have no excuse. So deal. :P)
There is a time and place for everything you think. The bustling street with its throng of people and the hot afternoon sun on your back is definitely not the time to get an urge to visit an old riverbank café for an iced latte. Yet here you are, an idiot amongst other idiots, out in the abnormally sweltering heat, walking the streets of a city you haven’t been to in what feels like years.
A flash of red and you stop, a little girl with ribbons in her hair runs past, a dog nearly as big as she is running right beside her. You watch as they crest the river’s edge and fall into the shallow water, her laughter is audible even at this distance.
Your gaze sweeps further up the bank, and maybe you should have been surprised, except you aren’t. There is a time and place for everything you think, and some unreasonable urges are there for a reason.
You leave the pavement for the grassy knoll of the riverbank. The wind has picked up and you welcome the breeze to counter the sun’s heat.
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here.” There are simply some things you do not say. Hello just happens to be one of them.
Cigarette smoke curls lazily into the wind as he looks up. A pause, and then, “Should anything surprise you anymore,” more a statement than a question.
“Curious is probably the word, for why that thing is lying beside you.” A foot prods at the teddy bear lounging in the grass.
“Oi!” It is indignant and familiar, so is the bear that is snatched from underfoot and shoved in your face. “I had him dry-cleaned. Smells good, doesn’t he?”
You make a noise in the back of your throat as you take the bear’s spot on the ground. “That is disgustingly weird, even for you.” You prop the bear down to lean against the other’s back.
“Their latte hasn’t changed.” It is small talk that should have been uncomfortable, but this is the way it’s always been.
“So where’s my glass?” It is impertinent but undemanding, and you think (know that) others have punched him in the face for less.
You tap the glass lightly against his arm. “They don’t carry my brand. What is up with this city?”
He snickers as he digs into his pockets, and throws a pack of cigarettes at your feet. Exactly the type you’ve been looking for.
You hand him the latte, and the first breath is almost a relief after all the knockoffs you’ve had to endure. “I won’t even ask if you have these imported. Damn brat.”
“Does it matter. I just saved your nicotine deprived brain.”
“And I saved your lazy ass the short walk between here and the café. Even.”
His retort is cut off by a coughing fit and he grinds the cigarette into the ground as he waits for it to pass. “This damnable weather,” he grumbles. “Can’t handle cold drinks yet I guess.”
He shoves the glass back at you and you glare at it momentarily before directing it at him.
He meets you stare for stare and is almost innocent when he asks, “What?”
You exhale smoke childishly on his face, sending him into another coughing fit. “Don’t give it back to me when you’ve spread your sickly germs all over it.”
“It’s just the tail end of a flu. It’s not going to kill you.”
You flop down on your back, kicking him lightly with your foot. “Fuck off, Faucon. You owe me a drink when we get out of here.”
[…] Well, apparently, I can’t embed youTube wtf. So watch instead. The story here is by Arc who refuses to write unless bullied. It’s good to have her random brain […]
That’s not Ron!I’m so jealous of you speed painters. Also man, you really do improve every time I see something new from you!
Comment by Red Leader — 3 August 2007 @ 10:43 am
This isn’t a Ron blog! I’m still thinking if I should have one lol
Moo who said this was a speed paint? 30 minutes I think. I kept changing my mind with the colors lol
Comment by Cugami — 3 August 2007 @ 1:51 pm
Well, the general time for a speed paint tends to be 1 hour or half hour increments. :P You know. Technically.
Comment by speedtribes — 4 August 2007 @ 6:22 am
Haha, Viv’s right about that, actually. Although I keep thinking in my head that it means 15> because uh, hey I was never much for real media painting LOOK A RON!
Comment by Red Leader — 4 August 2007 @ 9:37 am
Haha. Commence blatant character bastardization. (And bad writing, for which I have no excuse. So deal. :P)
There is a time and place for everything you think. The bustling street with its throng of people and the hot afternoon sun on your back is definitely not the time to get an urge to visit an old riverbank café for an iced latte. Yet here you are, an idiot amongst other idiots, out in the abnormally sweltering heat, walking the streets of a city you haven’t been to in what feels like years.
A flash of red and you stop, a little girl with ribbons in her hair runs past, a dog nearly as big as she is running right beside her. You watch as they crest the river’s edge and fall into the shallow water, her laughter is audible even at this distance.
Your gaze sweeps further up the bank, and maybe you should have been surprised, except you aren’t. There is a time and place for everything you think, and some unreasonable urges are there for a reason.
You leave the pavement for the grassy knoll of the riverbank. The wind has picked up and you welcome the breeze to counter the sun’s heat.
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here.” There are simply some things you do not say. Hello just happens to be one of them.
Cigarette smoke curls lazily into the wind as he looks up. A pause, and then, “Should anything surprise you anymore,” more a statement than a question.
“Curious is probably the word, for why that thing is lying beside you.” A foot prods at the teddy bear lounging in the grass.
“Oi!” It is indignant and familiar, so is the bear that is snatched from underfoot and shoved in your face. “I had him dry-cleaned. Smells good, doesn’t he?”
You make a noise in the back of your throat as you take the bear’s spot on the ground. “That is disgustingly weird, even for you.” You prop the bear down to lean against the other’s back.
“Their latte hasn’t changed.” It is small talk that should have been uncomfortable, but this is the way it’s always been.
“So where’s my glass?” It is impertinent but undemanding, and you think (know that) others have punched him in the face for less.
You tap the glass lightly against his arm. “They don’t carry my brand. What is up with this city?”
He snickers as he digs into his pockets, and throws a pack of cigarettes at your feet. Exactly the type you’ve been looking for.
You hand him the latte, and the first breath is almost a relief after all the knockoffs you’ve had to endure. “I won’t even ask if you have these imported. Damn brat.”
“Does it matter. I just saved your nicotine deprived brain.”
“And I saved your lazy ass the short walk between here and the café. Even.”
His retort is cut off by a coughing fit and he grinds the cigarette into the ground as he waits for it to pass. “This damnable weather,” he grumbles. “Can’t handle cold drinks yet I guess.”
He shoves the glass back at you and you glare at it momentarily before directing it at him.
He meets you stare for stare and is almost innocent when he asks, “What?”
You exhale smoke childishly on his face, sending him into another coughing fit. “Don’t give it back to me when you’ve spread your sickly germs all over it.”
“It’s just the tail end of a flu. It’s not going to kill you.”
You flop down on your back, kicking him lightly with your foot. “Fuck off, Faucon. You owe me a drink when we get out of here.”
Comment by Arc — 9 August 2007 @ 12:49 am
[…] Well, apparently, I can’t embed youTube wtf. So watch instead. The story here is by Arc who refuses to write unless bullied. It’s good to have her random brain […]
Pingback by Masked Innocence » First! — 9 August 2007 @ 11:57 pm