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Post by anthony julian farraday on Aug 8, 2012 23:10:51 GMT -6
Could it be?
Anthony quickened his step, stretching his strides to their fullest. He didn't want to run, but a nice little trot would do. Rubbing a hand across the top of his light brown hair he weaved his gaze in and out of the crowd to follow a petite frame as it bounced around a corner. The taller heads amongst the crowd attempted to hide her, but he wouldn't be thwarted as easily. His third day back in town, this was perhaps the first time that he'd actually laid eyes on an old friend. Several familiar faces had crossed his path, but no one that he had to commit to speaking to, thankfully. He'd yet to come across someone that he owed an explanation to, no one to coerce an explanation of his previous whereabouts out of him. And honestly, it was something of a disappointment. It wasn't that he wanted to, but he actually had expected to run into several old faces. He had expected them to give him sideways glances and emit faux chuckles about the good times that shared. More out of the cops than anyone else, which is why he'd even taken this path through downtown, the street coming across the station all but too familiar to him.
This was his hometown after all.
The evening air was brisk despite the season, but that was nothing new to this town. For a Wednesday, there was an unusual amount of people downtown. There were throngs of them, actually, perhaps all flocking to some sort of sale that he was completely unaware of. He shoved the sleeves of his navy blue, zip-up hoodie up to his elbows, sweat collecting on his back as he rushed through the crowds. There were probably more important things that he should be doing at the moment instead of chasing down some girl whose identity he wasn't even sure of. One being trying to locate who killed his father, because he knew full well that the cops would never find out. His father had a problem with drinking and gambling and they found him with a bullet in his head, it was only too obvious what this had to deal with and maybe this pursuit was a way to distract his mind from the obvious.
"Hey," calling out to no one in particular, AJ paused for a moment as he turned the corner. He swore under his breath; he'd lost her. Peering around, he searched every head within thirty feet of him for those blonde tresses. Still walking at a quick pace, he eventually caught sight of them across the street. For some reason it became imperative that this mission be deemed successful. What other chance would he have to see her? Without much thought he stepped into the street and was nearly struck by a taxi. The driver came to a screeching stop and waved his middle finger at him through the dashboard as AJ hit the front of the car with his hands and jogged on. Once across the street, he trained his eye on the figure and finally was within arms' reach. AJ stretched to grab her arm, "Kat," falling off of his tongue as he did so.
This had the potential to be extremely embarrassing.
tagged kat/asia
notes embarrass the shit out of him, ferreal & sorry there isn't fancy coding. i'm too lazy to go find one right now.
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Post by katherine sienna dupuis on Aug 9, 2012 23:02:35 GMT -6
[/size] HIS VOICE WAS muffled, distracted as he attempted to lecture her. katherine sanders dupuis had to respect her brother's attempt. chance sanders was desperate to cement his words into his little sister's head. they went in one ear, got taunted, and flew out the other side, careless. he needed a hammer, perhaps some steel bolts. maybe a drill, electric and stamped with that stupid "holmes approval" thing. the carpenter who had a television show and acted as though he were relevant. she was busy staring at the back of his head, eyebrows raised in grim amusement. he tried, he really did. but he needed to drill a hole in her head and puke up his words, a steaming pile of acid, and close it with cement. expensive cement. from new york. given the fact that it was chance hennessey sanders delivering a commiserable speech, it was difficult to take seriously in the first place. he would need an orange vest and a hardhat in order to make any hope of an impression. which would conclude with her construction metaphors. she narrowed her eyes, attempting to envision him wearing such attire, holding a hammer and pretending he knew what to do with it. maybe she should throw him a clue, offer any sort of direction to how to keep her attention.
oh yeah. he was talking.
she caught several words, ranging from "las vegas", "irresponsible", and something about playboy magazine. the rest was mumbled in a dissatisfied echo. "your manners are astounding, mister sanders. there's leftover salmon." her voice was deadpanned, hovering between amused and exasperation. taking the steps into the tiny kitchen of her rented hotel room, katherine wrapped her arms around her brother's waist, rested her chin on his back and pulled him from out of her empty refrigerator. success. an apple in his possession, chance was easily pulled into the centre of the small room. his words were muffled again, between leaning into the back of his shirt and her brother eating his apple, katherine rolled her eyes before pulling away. "what do you from me, chance? apart from some mouthwash. you smell like smoke and burnt gasoline." her manicured eyebrows raised again, she held a finger up as he opened his mouth. chance sanders liked to explain his adventures. given the unfortunate group of slobs he chose to associate himself with, it was never a good idea to listen. it would involve blowing up beer cans and trying to light a cat on fire with a car. or something. "i want you to come home. i want you to realize what the fuck you're doing. and i want you to my little sister again."[/color] okay well, perhaps he didn't need a hardhat to deliver that. throw in a sibling relationship and you fuck everything up. katherine scowled at him, eyes narrowed in disapproval. "tell that to mommy and daddy." grabbing the apple from his hand, she threw a second keycard to her room on the coffee table. "there you go. keys to one another's place. we're best friends again." her tone was laced with sarcasm as she left, slamming the door behind her. the problem with the "coming home" shit speech was that it was a scratched record. some fuck - her brother, no doubt - placed it on an old record player and refused to stop it. he saved the stupid record and it scratched whenever he moved. and the play was probably from some garage sale. of a dead person. who owned a lot of cats and had putrid taste in music. it was old, repeated to her far too many times. mom begged over the phone. dad sent her a postcard. no one else cared. that was the issue, she mused as she escaped into the streets of valkyrie, california. there had been no objections when katherine sanders moved to las vegas, changed her name and displayed herself for money. half of her old classmates subscribed to her website, anyway. play with yourself in front of a camera and people suddenly approve of you. oh well. whatever worked. chance had been spewing the "fitting in" and acceptance thing for years. congratulations, brother. she wore her scowl as she stumbled into the downtown core. it was remarkably busy for this time of day. did these people have no one to be? her opinion of her hometown had not changed in the years she had been gone. self-important fucks who believed they were entitled to make a dent in the world. like they mattered. this place did nothing but put her in a sour mood. people expected her to live here? like she was back for good. so…the parents. hah. no. she was going home soon. to nevada. she continued to wear her scowl as she strolled, aimless. anything not to suffocate in the same room as her hypocritical schmooze of blood relation. stupid chance. valkyrie allowed for a sour mood; her brother slobbered pushy guilt all over her. huffing a sigh, katherine breathed and she fished her rumbled package of cigarettes from her back pocket. one thing that never changed in their relationship was her liking of thieving from her brother. don't live cancer sticks on the counter, dumbass. clumsily lighting one, swallowing the desire to cough, she breathed a cloud of dark smoke. gross. oh well. maybe if she lowered herself to their - those dirty valkyrie citizens - standards, people would dismiss her. accept the fact that they assumed she would stay. she could stop showering, too. and roll around in the cement chance refused to use on her head. whatever. the image of a valkyrie citizen sinking a puddle of abashment amused her a great deal. which explain her delayed reaction to someone actually touching her. gross. now she would need purell. assuming it was available in this insulting cesspool. hanging the cigarette between her lips, upon hearing her name (people knew it?), she turned lazily, careless. her eyebrows knitted together as she pulled the cancer stick and exhaled smoke right into his stupid face. seriously? his name was anthony julian farraday. and she was unsure of whether to hate him, like him, or pretend to be surprised and thrilled. it was a tossup. how long had it been? given there had been a small window of almost similar mindsets - why did she have to be a stupid little kid? (she would have used adult language. which defeated the purpose. fuck.) hah. oops. - it was an awkward…everything. she had pushed everything about valkyrie from her mind, she had almost forgotten aj and his stupid band of brothers. they were like chance and his ring of morons. valkyrie natives and a gang of boys. fantastic combination. "is this town some sort of dead cat spot? all the coyotes are running back?" everyone was returning. she liked colourful metaphors. her stomach continued to flip, unsure of how to react. forcing her voice to remain deadpanned, almost bored, unsurprised by this turn of events, katherine continued to watch aj through her sunglasses. loosely taking another hit of her cigarette, she pulled her hand from his and stood back to examine him. yeah. stomach flipping, in both stupidly girlish ways and every other way. fuck. "yes, mister faraday?" pushing her sunglasses into her hair, she looked at him again, head titled.[/sub][/size][/font][/blockquote][/blockquote] ----------------------------------------------------------- TAGGED, aj !
LENGTH, 1230 words.
ATTIRE, hurr.
NOTES, woooo.
CREDITS, format and graphics to me.
lyrics to keane - "might as well be strangers"
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Post by anthony julian farraday on Aug 12, 2012 17:17:20 GMT -6
It was her after all. Anthony immediately let out a breathe, suddenly realizing that he'd been holding it in with anticipation. He had been fully prepared to whip around of his heel after offering a rushed, mumbled apology, but not to actually come face to face with the old acquaintance. It was a wonder he took part in such pursuits, always figuring that he was wrong. Generally, he was. A second of silence enveloped them as he studied her features. His sapphire eyes traced the matured curve of her jaw and traveled along the bridge of her nose, transforming the image to that of the girl he used to know. It was a wonder what ten years did. How could she seem so familiar and yet so foreign?
"Dead cat spot?" his left brow piqued and a nervous chuckle followed. No, he didn't quite get the metaphor, but that was besides the point. Vainly attempting to not appear hurt by her lackluster greeting, AJ lifted a hand across his head as if rubbing his unkempt hair was a way of properly gather his thoughts. A moment passed as he pondered on her choice of words yet still, he didn't get it and was entirely prepared to give up. She'd always been cryptic and he was out of practice for trying to dilute her loaded statements for their base value. His tongue lulled in his mouth while he deliberated, his hands found their way into the front pockets of his faded grey jeans. With a shrug, AJ focused his attention on her sunglasses, wishing he could catch a glimpse of her eyes and licked his lips, "Nice to see you too, Katherine. It's only be about ten years - give or take." A wave of relief washed over him as she lifted the lenses. It would be going too far too fast for him to say that he'd missed her, "How've you been? Or maybe that's too much of a space filler question. It's too general and I feel like I have to ask you something of substance or you'll walk right away from me now. That's the kind of attitude you've picked up being in Vegas, right?" Not to compare, but it was the air of a stripper when she found out that her client didn't have any more cash. Admittedly, to his memory Katherine had never been a happy child, but now she was downright cold. That or he was taking a joke the wrong way. He just didn't know and he fidgeted as his mind took him back and forth. AJ swayed slightly with the light breeze that caressed his features and bit his tongue, "You're just so grown up now." The obvious. Really? That's all that he could come up with? He was a grown-ass man and he needed to act like it, not be reverted to his teenage self just because he was back in Valkyrie. At the thought, he dropped his hands from the pockets of his jeans and stood erect.
Several people brushed past them, a few teenagers knocking roughly into his shoulders. He averted his attention from her for a mere moment, only to peer around for a safe place to continue on this conversation. Without thinking, AJ again reached for her arm to pull her aside just as a bicycler was passing them. His grip was tight around her bicep, holding her the way a mother would drag their relentless child out of a candy store.
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