Dirty Paws [Hero]

[Raeoki]

The mouth of the black dragon stood stiff and yawning in the waning but marvelous light of the sun that gave its life for night. A few men, the dragon’s underlings, stood with their scissor-bodies black and unmarvelous in the dying light and the bruised twilight. They stood facing each other, their voices drifting in mumbles, their words measured in silence. They turned their chins upward, eventually, and their eyes met the stars, just as the stars began to open their eyes to the inked world.

A rattle was heard within the throat of the dragon. The underlings turned their faces to the mouth of the black dragon; no longer did they speak. They were watching the black stained bees arrive from the toil of their coaled mine; they did not greet them as they emerged from their lift, they did not console them as they slithered between the wooden teeth of the great scaled beast.

The bees scattered and departed to take refuge in their drooped flowers; one remained, a little longer than all its compatriots. That bee found himself staring into the sky, until his eyes became the stars.

Such a bee had a name, unlike all the other bees. It was Cole Anstice. Of all the bees, he was drenched in the most black: it slept in the creases of his clothes; it shuddered from his hair like an over-pour of inked dandruff from his long and unruly hair; it had slapped his cheeks, it had held his hands, it had hugged his torso, his legs, his neck, with its staining arms. He reached upward, for his face; ink-stained fingers touched ink-stained cheek, and ink-blinded eyes looked down, and saw the ink-stained fingers. An ink-rouged nose wrinkled, and the ink-stained pad of the ink-stained thumb tried to scrape away the ink of coal. All the scraping did was mix together one’s ink with another’s.

A tool stood in Cole’s ink-stained hand. It was brushed in ink itself, but perhaps not as much as its master. It was stiff with work. It made his hand ache. But he felt no ache.

There was nothing in Cole Anstice’s body but lean, slender muscle, and in each of those lean, slender muscles, there was a pain. But he felt no pain. He refused to feel pain. Pain was to be hated, not embraced. He swallowed the ache in his bones, in his skin, in the meat that shuddered in-between – and he began to walk, sore step by not sore step, to his own little flower. As he did so, he gave one glance back at the dragon with the black hives in its belly; and he snarled at it, his muscles and face retracting with the pain of hatred, and he wished it to burn.

He paused, once, when he saw a disfigured figure waddle not far; going in his direction, in fact. He stopped to watch it, his ink-blazed eyes bearing a new softness. He waited for the figure to disappear into the darkness. Then he continued; as he walked, he looked down at his ink-stained fingers. A new pain, this time not of rage, but of something very deep, very personal, very within him, tore into his face and body, and it pushed his shoulders forward – but he forced them up almost immediately, and he threw his hand down, and he continued walking with the tool leaning against his shoulder, and his hand a firm and aching ring around it.

He didn’t notice the girl approach, nor did he want to. He trotted onward, unmolested by her approaching presence, not caring of anything, but the home that sighed for him – or did he sigh for it?

(ooc: Okay, so, there are two reasons for why this post is so short: firstly, I didn't have enough time to write a super-long post. Secondly, I want to try a more objective style with Cole. It seems more Cole-ish. So, I didn't really dive into the whole "What's he thinkin'?" thing that usually makes my posts so lengthy. So, yeah! Everyone say "hi" to Cole!!!! ))) )

[Hero]

Vanessa trotted along the path she knew all to well. The path to the mines. Everyone knew what happened to her father. Some people refused to let her forget. But yet she made the journey every year on the anniversary of his death to collect the same payment she was promised until she turned 30. 6 more years, she thought, then I won't have to remember.

As the wind whistled around her, she pulled her jacket closely around her. In her 'District 12' attire per say, she got a few weird stares from everyone. A Victor of their district (for starters) walking around here looking just like the rest of us. Looking the part of the Victor wasn't something Vanessa wanted to do. She really only wanted to when she had to.

Whenever she reached the mine, her search for Mark Hatfield had began. She checked his office. Nada. She checked to see if he was on shift. Nope. If he wasn't anywhere, then where was he? Before she could think, she found herself staring at a slightly familiar face. She had seen this guy around before. Being a rather large pain to everyone he could. Yet, he interested her. He was a challenge and by gosh did she like challenges.

But even without talking to him before, she knew he probably wouldn't even acknowledge her. But she gave it a shot nonetheless. She slowly approached him, tapping his shoulder to get his attention. "Sorry to bother you, but do you know where Mark might be? I just need to talk to him."

[Raeoki]

(Ooc: Sorry for the wait!!! Life made me sad. )

BIC: The girl touched him; immediately, instinctively his molested shoulder bucked sharply upward, throwing her hand - with the fingers now stained with transmitted black - away from him. He did this as his feet carried him forward; his feet were unstoppable: even as she cried out for a Mark Hatfield, his feet had neither the courage nor tenderness to stop.

Though an ear did stop to think for a moment; a slight crease was atop his face, as her speech, her pitches, her sound questioned the silence of his world. Then the crease smoothed; his face was austere.

"Find him yourself." That was the grunt given to her. The bear-like growl; the intelligent beast snarking his way through life. There was no apology in his steps as he trotted onward, nor was their forgiveness in his back as he kept it turned to her. For Cole Anstice was faceless to this victor, to this celebrity, who wore the clothes of her district in a world that refused her district. There was no regret to be seen on his facelessness; only the retreat into cold-hearted austerity.

(Ooc: Gawd, I feel so lazy when I write Cole...But I'm not!! It's actually a little difficult to write him because of his own little style, because I'm so used to sinking into the thoughts of the character, so this actually takes a lot of self-control...and descriptions and metaphors. -_-

But in terms of time, IT IS SO BLOODY EASY TO WRITE THIS CHARACTER. JUST. I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW THIS IS POSSIBLE. GAWD.)

[Hero]

Vanessa looked slightly taken aback at this guy's coldness. She had no idea what she could've possibly done in the mere 10 seconds she had even spoken to him, and all she did was ask him a simple question. "Well, it'd just be a lot easier for me if you told me where he is. I really don't wanna go on a wild goose chase. I have other things to do."

She stepped back and assessed him one last time. While admitting to herself that he was quite attractive, she realized that he was a bit of a prick. And she didn't deal with people like that. "But because I seem to inconvenience you, I'll go find someone who won't waste my time." She then stepped back and turned and began walking off.

((OOC: it's fine. And I can write a bit of a rage post. Currently watching the UK and Louisville game for the NCAA. Like ugh.))

[Raeoki]

(Ooc: What happened that made you go "ugh"? o.o)

BIC: Irony and pleas followed in a marching rhythm. Apparently, her time was of much consequence, enough to aim some amount of stress or strain into her, which was enough for her to chop the head off the victim. The victim showed nor felt any amount of pain as the came down on his neck, for his ears had hardly heard it. Hardly - which was enough for him; enough for his wandering feet to stop and his wandering mouth to make comment over his shoulder: "Then there's really no point in trying."

He was just saying. He made sure to reinforce that fact verbally, and give a tiny shrug as he did so.

Then he was off again; in the night of the departure hours, his body shrunk from her - the streets of District 12 grew nearer. In his array of coal, his body was becoming a shadow unto her, and most rapidly.

[Hero]

((OOC: it was just the game had some calls in it that I just didn't like. That was all.))

Vanessa sighed internally before looking around. She thought if she could find someone else around, then she could ask them. With her luck, he was the not one for probably miles. "Listen, I'm probably the last person you want to be talking to. But all I asked was a simple question that requires a simple answer."

She paused before walking a few steps closer to him, hoping she had his attention now. "Or is it because I exist and am a Vic-, you know." She walked a couple more steps, slowly closing the distance between the two of them. "Because quite frankly, I don't want people thinking of me as stuck up. And more importantly, I don't want you thinking of me that way."

She put her weight on one foot. She then put a hand on her hip and waited for his response.

[Raeoki]

(ooc: Ah, sorry. :/

...BUT AT LEAST I'M NOT IN SCHOOL ANYMORE... :DDDDDDDD )

BIC: Her voice called out for him: definitely, this seeker was persistent; perhaps even impenetrable. A woman of steel? Of iron? Perhaps. Her words were; they had him trapped now - a bundle of steel traps that had caught his feet and his body, that had turned his body around, that had set his eyes on her face. Solely her face. He was still a creature of the black; half-silhouette in the cold curtain of night and in the body-suit of coal dust that he had coated himself in, and half a man. A tired man with a vague sense of interest in his cool, sore eyes.

No. Not a woman of steel. Too soft around the face; like a child, almost. Her body wouldn't fit the title of "impenetrable", either - simply...not slender enough. No, she was not rounded; nor was she an airy princess, nor was she a starving peasant girl. She was a strong, lean girl, fed well and trained well. Simply - she didn't have any of the edges. The sharpness of cold, rigid steel, nor the coarseness. His eyelids drooped, as if he realized this; as if he thought this fact a pity.

"Or is it because I exist and am a Vic-, you know. Because quite frankly, I don't want people thinking of me as stuck up. And more importantly, I don't want you thinking of me that way." This interested him. This very clearly intrigued him. He didn't hide this fact - for it was not a good intrigue. It was the sort of intrigue that comes when you find an ideal you hate, but it makes you think. It makes you sharpen your opinion; it makes you realize that there is more evil in the world that you had dared to imagine. Or perhaps you had imagined, and you just didn't want to recall it. It was the sort of intrigue that makes a person's face darken around the brow, around the eye, just as it did for Cole; that made one's face sharpen, as if one had discovered an enemy - or a victim of evil.

Her pose became akimbo - as if she had defied something. Or perhaps she wanted to - or perhaps...Or perhaps she was merely impatient. Or expectant. Either way, whatever reason for her pose clearly did not stir the words on his tongue. Rather, his reply was brought forth by the product which her pose accidentally spawned. It was seen in his eyes - faintly! Ever so faintly! But it was there. A soft glow. Fainter than a star behind a wispy cloud - but there.

I think he saw potential in that stance. Don't ask me why. But I think he did.

"You shouldn't care about what people think," he reminded her, his tone only slightly condescending, only slightly caring, and more than a little aloof.

[Hero]

((OOC: I'm out of school as well. my level of happiness is through the roof. ))

BIC: She watched as he stopped and seemingly got lost in his thoughts. She slightly picked at a nail on her left hand. She knew everybody saw it as a sign of annoyance but she never did. It was always a nervous tick of sorts. Everybody's different. She caught on to him looking her over. She evened her weight back out and just looked around. Back in the distance, she heard the toll of bells giving out that it was 6 in the evening.

Returning her attention to him, she evaluated him, for lack of a better word. His eyes intrigued her. She wondered what he could be hiding, if anything at all. His hair was a little longer than most. Most men of the District had short cut hair while his was a little but longer. He was more lanky than anything. She assumed that he might've been one of the lanky, awkward kids while in school. Takes one to know one. The coal dust wasn't anything knew. Pretty much everyone in the District was coated in it. That didn't come as a huge surprise to her.

The wind whipped once again. She pulled her shirt down, as it was riding up a bit and pulled her jacket around her. She slightly adjusted her foot in her boot. And is ply stood there. The silence wasn't exactly awkward. Tense was more the word. Before she knew it, she heard the bell to the office open. She heard it slightly tink as someone came back out. Behind her, she had a gruff voice. "Vanessa, there you are. Come in to my office and we'll get started." Without turning her gaze from the man in front of her, she yelled back, "Yeah, I'll be there in a second." She shifted back not her heels before beginning to slowly trudged towards him. In a second, she turned and faced the coal-dust-covered man. "I don't care what most people think. You aren't most people. You're a prick. But I kinda like you."

She smirked to herself before going to her usual room in the office. As she waited for Mark, she went ahead and removed her jacket and shoes, and thanking God that she was wearing a shirt she really didn't care about, as it would be torn to shreds in moments. She then heard the stomp of his boots. Before she knew it, she felt his hand connect with her cheek. She yelped in surprise at the unexpected act. She held her cheek and looked up at him. "What the hell?" She stood up only to be pushed back into the nearby chair. "Who were you talking to put there?"

"Some guy. I don't even know his name."[[/b][/i]

[Raeoki]

(ooc: BREH I SUCK. SO HARD.

Your post is scareh, by the bye.)

BIC: And then the world was interrupted. A gong-gong of a bell banged brassily, announcing to all of District 12 that Cole Anstice was late for a date with a few sketches and no dinner (he never took dinner). His eyes glanced to the sky, then, in a flinch-like movement, his eyes hurried back to her. A wind slunk by like a thief, dragging particles of black in its curling arms, letting the particle defy gravity, which was a common sight in the district of coal. His eyes wandered to that, then back to Vanessa. She had shifted. The akimbo pose was no more. The corners of his mouth twisted a little.

The tinkle of a fairy-like bell murmured sharply at them. A voice of a goblin followed it. Cole looked away at the little office building – the “control room”, if one dared call it, of the mine – from whose doorway the goblin called out to the victor. Cole’s eyebrows peeped upward a little, and he blinked, but he made nothing of it.

Vanessa was even about the caller. Her face showed nothing, her voice was transparently innocent. She shifted; started towards the beckoner. Then, as if in after-thought, she turned, and remembered Cole. She said to him: "I don't care what most people think. You aren't most people. You're a prick. But I kinda like you."

He didn’t move; his face was a blank canvas. He merely watched her. Then she disappeared into the office. Finally, a smirk cracked on his face. It approved. His eyes looked down at his blackened shoes.

There was the turn of the body. Then, like acceptance, he lifted his eyes, and put the light of the smirk. He rediscovered his quest for the little drooping flower that wasn’t so far away. He was only a few steps into it when a high-pitched yelp slapped his ears. He turned suddenly; his eyebrows clenched tightly together. The office windows shined like panels of sun. The next to clench was his jaw.

There was the turn of the body; a slow, mechanical, almost pained motion. His steps were slower now, less enthusiastic, less lively, and less brisk. There was a movement like a jerk, like a convulsion, then a stop. His black-bear hand held his tool so tightly it shook. A step that was more of a drag. A long, dim silence.

The tool dropped. He felt the pockets of his night-like overalls as if a contingent of ants had charged into them. His lips parted a little, then clenched.

There was the turn of the body. His feet hurried. The tightness of his spine suggested impatience, whether within him or beyond him, or both, no bit of his body admitted.

He didn’t barge through the door to the office. He knocked lightly; a mess of coal fingerprints stained the shimmery brass. His eyes ducked to the left, then to the right. No bodies. He entered; left the door open. He craned his neck, then ducked his head, his eyes scanning the shelving, the counters, the table, the floor.

A door glanced at him. He heard a murmur that managed intelligence, which managed words. Bodies were behind that door. Cole blinked. With movements that were too quick for him to have thought about it, he straddled up, and yanked open the door. He ambled in, as if he was entering some sort of cocktail party.

Within, he was silenced. There was the girl who cared about a few people’s opinions (including his own), in a chair. Her shoulders were being clamped by a pair of hands. It was almost impossible to guess how long he stared at her. Eventually, his eyes clawed up the hairy arms, up to the goblin’s face. He stared at him awhile, too.

Finally, he grunted, voice gruff but even, almost to the point of dim-wittedness: “Has anyone seen my notebook?”

(ooc: Yaaaaay! The gallant knight has come to save her! Not really, lulz.)