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Post by Deleted on Jul 2, 2015 15:01:44 GMT -8
The rapier made a beautiful, quiet metallic hiss as Citlal slid the weapon back into its sheath, but not before running a cloth over the length of the blade. Cutting a thread obviously resulted in no blood, but it was compulsive in some ways. A familiar, comforting motion. She tucked the cloth away, as well, and stood, looking down at the man who'd just passed away.
She mentally said a few words of a poem in Nahuatl for him. Even the few minutes she'd had with him had indicated a troubled life, moreso than the others. Maybe his soul would be able to find some peace now--that's all she wished for him, really. And he was released from the influence of his fellow gang members--she cast a look at their bodies with a heavy feeling weighing softly in her chest.
With a sigh, she turned to her reaping companion--Owen, of all people. Normally she would've gone with Albrecht or Iris. And Albrecht always knew how to help after heavy reapings like this. She could almost hear him saying, "I'll make some tea." But her team was needed elsewhere, so Owen had been her companion. She had no way to tell what he was thinking--but she was quite sure he wasn't going to offer her tea.
She stood there, feel awkward and out of place. Her bright hair, her gently wafting, loose dress, her heels, her jewelry, all clashing horrifically with the dirty, grimy alleyways and the bodies of the gang, dressed in dark colors, and further darkness in their faces as they'd met this end. Death was unpleasant, dim--she shuffled uncomfortably between her feet, knowing that her attempts to brighten up her corners of the afterlife would always, inevitably, meet this kind of dimness again. At least she could end their suffering before it went further. At least her rapier, in a gentle hand, was a mercy.
"Owen," she said suddenly, glancing over at him to check his progress. "I, uh--how's it going? Are you done?"
She had to leave the alley. She fidgeted, waiting for him to finish, already planning her escape from the alley.
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Post by quinnquinn on Jul 3, 2015 19:22:58 GMT -8
He took the last red thread in his hand, admiring it like he had the others. Beautiful and lofty - at least it wasn't his own. His pen in the other, he thrust it into it and roughly ripped it apart. The thread split, and the ends faded away. Wherever these people went, perhaps this was the release they had all been waiting for. Perhaps he would cross paths with them again.
The woman with him put her weapon away, as did he. It made quite the satisfying shing as she slipped her rapier away.
"I am done." He replied without looking at her. He went over to nudge one of the bodies with his shoe. Did he look like this when he died too? In a puddle of blood in a grimy dirty place. An alleyway and the asylum didn't seem like such different places in the end. "You are done, isn't it. Done with this place." He looked to her, and took the first step out of the alley. He could see how uncomfortable she looked. This woman's brightness could be dampened, unfortunately. Not that he could relate or see it as unfortunate.
"Let's be done with this place, Citlal." He said, giving her one last glance before he stepped out into the bright street.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 4, 2015 0:14:49 GMT -8
Citlal laughed softly in a strained way, breathing out a careful release. She followed Owen out from the alley, stepping carefully over the fallen gang members, and took in the sight of the street in front of them both. Shake it off. Nechmaca chicahualiztli.
She laughed again. It sounded more natural this time--whether that was because she actually felt better or because she was in Paris and very good at pretending, she wasn't sure.
"I am wholeheartedly behind that plan," she said quietly, sweeping her eyes down the line of buildings. The street was bright and beautiful, a stark contrast to the grim alley behind them. When was the last time she'd been in Paris? Decades, it seemed. The buildings stretched proudly into the sky, brilliant and proud and stunning, and the street felt alive.
"You know what? Additional plan!" She glanced up at the male beside her, one side of her mouth quirking upward. "There is no way on this existential plane of earth that I'm coming to Paris and not taking the chance to refresh my wardrobe and see the sights. This place is so vivid. To just leave is a crime against my entire being." She slung an arm around Owen's shoulders and started to walk up the sidewalk, practically hauling him, though he was larger than she was. "C'mon, love. You're my escort for the day, and we're going shopping."
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Post by quinnquinn on Jul 4, 2015 1:05:43 GMT -8
He stepped out into the sunlight. It was as if they walked into a different place altogether. In comparison to that dingy alleyway, the main road seemed normal. It was as if the alley didn't exist, that gang never fought, and that they were never here.
Well, they were never really here anyway.
He could see the Eiffel Tower in the distant horizon. Other landmarks stood out but he could never remember their names. Or perhaps he just didn't bother as much to remember.
In his absent mindedness Owen felt a yank around his neck. His step faltered and he let out a small 'ah' in response. He turned down to the small woman next to him, who seemed to be beaming about where their job had landed them. "Shopping?" He said. "I'm not good at shopping. I don't go shopping." It was evident enough. His worn vest and oversized shirt seemed to say it all. His pants and shoes were passable most days though.
"Where do we go shopping...?"
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Post by Deleted on Jul 4, 2015 2:08:26 GMT -8
"Stores," Citlal teased lightly, eyes dancing. "Paris is abound in them."
She released him slightly and instead slid her arm through his, still apparently commandeering him as an escort. The sidewalk was full of people, and she navigated around them with ease. It was remarkable to her how similar the city and the jungle were--steel and glass expanses were as intimidating as the landscape of her home, but once you knew your way, you really knew your way, and no one could hold you back. She'd scaled up the rock faces of waterfalls in her early childhood with little to no fear.
"Luckily for you," she said, still smiling, "I am excellent at shopping." She laughed, scanning the stores for something that seemed to have potential. "I have a theory--perhaps you can help me prove it today. That theory is this: there is always clothing out there that helps us feel more like ourselves. The trick is just finding it. When you do--what a wonderful feeling."
Her lips quirked up into a grin again, squeezing his arm. "Want to give it a shot, love? You're with an expert, after all." |
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Post by quinnquinn on Jul 4, 2015 7:24:20 GMT -8
"I know where to do shopping." He told her. "But where do we go shopping..." He glanced around the stores and windows here. They didn't seem to have anything that interested him, save a cheap looking suits store they passed way way back. Perhaps just an old memory in his heart about his own era. It was clear he had never attempted to move on. He didn't mind the modern era - just never tried it enough.
They were truly unseen despite the crowd - just how Owen liked it. People ignored his outdated wear and walked past like it was normal. He just didn't see any need to move on from something closer to home. The boy just let himself be guided (albeit a bit roughly because of the height difference) by Citlal, who only seemed more and more eager as time went on.
He thought about it. It was probably time to change his clothes anyway. They may have been touched by water and other things in HQ but time and wear still applied. Death would still allow them some time here to relax, wouldn't she? And he didn't have a shift with the birds now--
"Show me your expertise then." He said, leaning down to her ear, not moving his eyes from the meandering crowd moving around them.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 7, 2015 0:07:41 GMT -8
"Ah!" Citlal laughed, enjoying her little joke, and pointed up the street. "We have a few options--I was considering the Faubourg Saint-Honoré district, but I think you and I are better suited to l'Avenue Montaigne and l'Avenue des Champs-Elysées. They feature designer names, of course, because it's Paris, but they also have really trendy global chains. We'll have a lot of options."
The French words sounded a little strange in her mouth--even after so long, her words often held a soft Nahuatl accent, giving the French an odd lilt while simultaneously garbling it slightly. She spoke Nahuatl enough enough that her accent hadn't been stamped out yet--while she was usually grateful for that, it did make the names of the streets and districts harder to say.
She tapped her lip, leaving a slight gold shimmer on the fingertip. She was often a little absentminded about her lip paint. "If that doesn't work, there's also the Forum des Halles in the Halles/Beaubourg districts. They have dozens of stores. And two movie theaters."
Nodding decisively, she turned him down another street toward l'Avenue Montaigne.
"What do you like?" she asked, beaming up at him. "Anything specific you want to look for first?"
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Post by quinnquinn on Jul 7, 2015 22:04:56 GMT -8
He thought about those districts in Citlal's modified accent. He'd eventually learned the many sections of France over the years, but as for what occupied those spaces, he had no idea. He'd have to rely on his shopping companion to get around.
"I like suits..." He shrugged. "Suits are old though, isn't it... Shirts are old too, isn't it..." He looked around the stores they were passing. Formal things, casual things... He didn't really know where to start. He wasn't really sure what he was looking for.
They continued to walk on until he spotted a store mannequin sporting a sparsely patterned button up shirt and skinny capris. He stopped, stared at it almost right against the glass, and pointed to it.
"My roommates say I look good in that." He told her. "Do I look good in that?"
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Post by Deleted on Jul 19, 2015 0:04:37 GMT -8
Shaking her head, Citlal clicked her tongue. "Suits are never out of style. A finely-tailored suit is as valuable as the gold I deck myself out in."
She watched his face as they walked subtly, gauging his reactions to various stores that they passed. As soon as he stopped their walking and spoke, she stopped beside him, appraising the outfit before grinning up to the male beside her. "You never really know until you try it on. Here."
The door let out a soft jingle as she pushed into the store, stepping inside. Her gaze swept the store before she beamed. "Take your pick, darling. You can try on anything. It's all about how you feel once you're inside it. If you're happy and confident--well, that's all you really need, isn't it?" Her fingers spread out before him in a gentle beckon for him to either approach the mannequin or browse. She was content to watch, offering any help if needed.
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Post by quinnquinn on Jul 20, 2015 6:00:49 GMT -8
Citlal invited both of them into the store. Owen wasn't entirely familiar with this ritual of things but he just followed her lead. "Feeling good is good..." He smiled with his eyes.
He looked over the racks and racks of clothes, and also looked back to the one on the mannequin facing the window. "Can you help me find the ones in the window?" He voiced aloud for Citlal. "I'll help myself find them too." He was looking in a rack of shirts in similar style to the one on display. He unfortunately was promptly distracted by the sheer amount of choices and comfortable textiles at his fingertips. In a few moments he wasn't even looking for clothes anymore, but admiring then instead.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 22, 2015 12:46:02 GMT -8
"Sure thing, darling," Citlal chirped, giving Owen a calculating look. She felt like she ought to be better at estimating clothing sizes, but to her, everyone was large. She swept over Owen's torso in an attempt to judge his relative size and came up with... less large than other large people. ... Alright. She could work with that.
A patterned button-up and skinny capris. She decided to look for the capris first, since pants were harder to parse through than shirts. There was a wall lined with stacks of pants, and she flipped through them, murmuring to herself. "Pants... pants... boot-cut? Heavens, no. Definitely not ever. Ah--capris." Men's pants went by measurements, not sizes--Citlal's nose wrinkled up as she considered the stack of skinny-legged capris. She doubted that Owen knew his own measurements.
She picked three different sizes and plopped them in one arm before standing to find the shirt. Tapping her lower lip thoughtfully, she approached him, talking out loud while her eyes swept the room. "So, in general terms, you skin tone is going to look great with jewel tones, as well as things like light blue and caramel. You'll look excellent in pastels and most rich colors. I would say away from yellow." Her lips quirked up into a smile. "Very few can pull off yellow."
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Post by quinnquinn on Jul 24, 2015 5:15:16 GMT -8
He was enjoying just feeling the fabrics of the shirts on the rack until Citlal brought him back to their original goals. She was talking about colours and such, trying to get his head around what they were as she listed them off.
"I like those colours..." he smiled with his eyes. "Though I like yellow too..." he seemed to frown ever so slightly. "I can't wear yellow?" well, at least he didn't have any yellow clothes. All good.
He looked at the several sets of pants in her hands. "Do I try those?" he pointed to them, flipping through the legs draped on her arms. "Did you try to guess my size? I have to guess my size." he hardly went shopping and well, Citlal made a good judgement. "The numbers help you guess, right?"
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Post by Deleted on Jul 25, 2015 2:06:47 GMT -8
For a moment, Citlal's eyes softened even further. She'd forgotten who she was talking to for a moment, and she'd forgotten her own vague dislike of the rules. There were many books and internet pages about how to look the best you could, and all of them told her to de-emphasize her hips and "balance out her body." She found that more... aggravating, than anything. And yet her own spouting of the "rules" had done the same thing.
"You know what?" she said, lips quirking into a grin. "That's a pretty pointless rule. If you like yellow, go ahead and wear it, love."
She plopped the pants into his arms and grinned wider. "Correct! The numbers helped me guess. I'm smaller than you, so I'm not as familiar with your size, but I gave it my best shot! If none of them fit, we'll adjust from there. Did you find a shirt you liked? Do you want me to find the one in the window for you?"
She looked briefly around the store, tapping her lower lip, skimming for things Owen might like, though she didn't have much of an idea of his style. "I'm not sure what I should try on..." Her eyes looked back to him and held a spark of adventure. "What do you think? What should I wear?"
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Post by quinnquinn on Jul 28, 2015 15:34:45 GMT -8
Citlal was actually letting him do something. Or at least, someone was throwing out the rules. He was elated. "Y-Yellow..!" He said, mildly excited with a hint of a smile on his lips.
She gave him her findings and he looked at the pairs of pants in his arms. They were definitely all different but didn't look like it. Citlal seemed so confident in her guessing abilities by this stage. It was encouraging.
"S-Shirt..." He stuttered, realising he'd lost focus almost as soon as he started looking. "I didn't find a shirt. Can you find a shirt?"
It was a little bit of a load to process, but Citlal asking him what to wear? He wasn't sure. The more he thought about it the more his mind wandered. It started with Citlal and clothes, and slowly devolved into jumbled thoughts and ideas about colours. Colours... He spotted something bright out the corner of his eye as he did, and he walked towards it. It was a pastel white and yellow striped tee. He pointed to it. "You should wear this." He wasn't knowingly checking whether he'd crossed over into the women's section yet.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 30, 2015 11:47:44 GMT -8
Citlal nodded with a warm smile, squeezing Owen's shoulder with one hand before peering around. "I'll be right back." She trotted over to the display, inspected the shirt, and looked around once more before locating the pattern nearby. Piles of similar shirts were stacked next to it--Citlal frowned at them, tapping her lower lip.
He doesn't really wear much except the straitjacket. I have no idea what he'd like.
His living-world outfit usually involved a red tie of sorts. She plucked up the shirt he'd pointed out in the window--taking a guess at his size once more--and then looked at a red shirt nearby, tentatively placing that one on top. His clothing was... subdued. That might be too bright for him. Frowning, she tapped her lower lip again, and then put another shirt on top--a grey-blue that was subdued but that would match his eyes, which were beautiful.
All of them were button-ups. For good measure, she plucked a t-shirt and a pullover from a rack nearby on her way back, and then beamed at Owen as she returned. "Here you go, love. Several for you to try! You don't need to like them--I'm just getting a feel for what you'd look good in and what you like."
Her eyes turned to the shirt he'd picked out, and she hid a grin. It was a men's shirt, but she didn't want to say anything about that. It would likely be fairly big on her. She pulled it down from the rack and draped it over her arm, grinning at him. "Alright, I'm ready! Shall we go try these on?"
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