Lachlan grinned at the nickname, and sat down. "Nessie, eh? That's a new one, don't get me wrong, I ain't complaining, it's not Moon-Moon after all." He paused. "How are you?" He asked politely.
«We Could Be Legends»
- Thread starter Fanci Feathers Marans
- Start date
Brisa sat and watched everyone enter the cafe, trying to see if she recognized anyone. She only recognized two, a boy and a girl in her grade, but she didn't know their names. She was regretting sitting by the window, as the cold was seeping in, but she didn't want to cause any commotion by moving. She took another sip of her hot chocolate and wished that she wasn't shy. Maybe the chocolate chip pancakes will warm me up...
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Toby woke up to Alpha pawing his chest, and let out a small groan. He sat up, and got out of bed & walked to the kitchen, followed closely by Alpha. Alpha grabbed his food bowl and carried it over to Toby, which he took & filled up & sat it on the ground, and walked back to his room, stopping briefly to see if Jessi was asleep. He took a quick shower & harnessed up Alpha. He grabbed a backpack & his keys & walked outside. It's raining. I like rain. He thought, staring up at the sky. He looked at Alpha, who did not seem to share the opinion. "Hey! Wait up!" Jessi said as she ran out to the parking lot. Toby turned around "I thought you were still sleeping. I'm hungry. I have a strange craving for pancakes, which is weird, I haven't had pancakes in years." He said. They walked to the pancake house, & Jessi used her wings to keep off the rain. By the time the walked inside, Toby was wet & shivering. Jessi smirked at him, as she lowered her wings. "Makes you wish you had wings, huh?" She said jokingly. "Don't tease me like that." He mumbled as they walked to an empty table. "Under. Down." Toby commanded, and Alpha crawled under the table & layer down. They both sat down, & picked up the menus.
- Thread starter
- #14
I roll my eyes at the idea of Moon-Moon. I never did understand Dad's pet name for Mom.
"I'm awake," I admit, taking a sip of coffee, "which isn't good, but it is what it is. Nessie makes sense, though, doesn't it? Short for Loch Ness Monster? And you're names Lachlashhh whatever."
Then I noticed the lonely girl was still watching me. I don't think she noticed my gaze this time, though. She was pretty, blaze red hair and freckles. Wait... freckles. It was then that I remembered I had forgotten to put my makeup on this morning, and my face was still unwashed and greasy. I pulled up the hood of my fuzzy-bunny housecoat, doing my best to hide my face behind it.
The morning rush was starting, and as more and more people, Dad flitted from table to table, and it was apparent that his coffee was starting to kick in. That stupid smile grows wider and wider as he addresses the different people. I sigh. Sometimes he can be so embarrassing.
Taylor chuckled softly, looking away. But something still nagged at her, clawing at her without stopping. That girl had to be like her. Somehow. The redhead glanced at her from time to time, but was more annoyed now, the boy that had come in was repeatedly snapping at a waitress.
- Thread starter
- #16
'Death by pancakes,' eh? I thought to myself. Sounded fitting as far as this morning was going. Unfortunately, Dad was too busy with the other customers to worry about bringing her and Zion's pankakes, so she would have to settle for 'Death by Boisionberry Syrup' for now.
- Thread starter
- #17
Then I heard some angry tones. Uh-oh. Sounds like one of those customers. I noticed the boy in another section, trying to get the attention of a waitress that I recognized as Christine. I clenched my jaw. She had her hands full with five orders on her tray, and a full drink chassie in her other hand.
I sigh, then reach under the table for my prosthetic and my shoe. I might as well help out. It's not like taking one order is going to kill anyone.
Cold and raining, of course. Yay.
Camilla grabbed her rain jacket, and slipped it on. "I'm going out." She called, in response she got a "Where?" from her father, but the only response he got was a shut door.
She jogged down the sidewalk, and a silver streak rushed by her, she stumbled, catching herself from falling though. "Hey, watch it, Lachlan!" She snarled after him, but he was too far ahead to hear. Will he ever stop doing that? She wondered dryly.
As she came to the 'Pancake House' she paused and walked in.
Glancing around, she noticed a girl with red hair like her own looking as though she was looking out the window, though she noticed she was really looking at another girl, who Cam realized was Delilah, talking to Lachlan. Grace and her brother sat behind them, and behind them sat another girl, she looked familiar to her, but she couldn't place her.
As she walked by Lachlan and Delilah she flicked Lachlan on the shoulder. "Thanks a lot for splashing mud on me, Moon-Moon." She said sarcastically to her cousin, and nodded a hello to Delilah, then continued walking, sitting at a table to the side and picking up the menu.
Camilla grabbed her rain jacket, and slipped it on. "I'm going out." She called, in response she got a "Where?" from her father, but the only response he got was a shut door.
She jogged down the sidewalk, and a silver streak rushed by her, she stumbled, catching herself from falling though. "Hey, watch it, Lachlan!" She snarled after him, but he was too far ahead to hear. Will he ever stop doing that? She wondered dryly.
As she came to the 'Pancake House' she paused and walked in.
Glancing around, she noticed a girl with red hair like her own looking as though she was looking out the window, though she noticed she was really looking at another girl, who Cam realized was Delilah, talking to Lachlan. Grace and her brother sat behind them, and behind them sat another girl, she looked familiar to her, but she couldn't place her.
As she walked by Lachlan and Delilah she flicked Lachlan on the shoulder. "Thanks a lot for splashing mud on me, Moon-Moon." She said sarcastically to her cousin, and nodded a hello to Delilah, then continued walking, sitting at a table to the side and picking up the menu.
Bleddyn leaned over the pile of various shoes that had clustered by the front door and sifted through them. She picked up a decomposing sneaker and, for some unknown reason, took a whiff.
She gagged and pitched it across the porch. It landed with a cabinet-rattling thud at the mouth of the kitchen. That had to be one of Dad's. Not only were his the most odiferous and worn, but neither she or Mom had feet that big.
Technically, no one in the neighborhood had a shoe size near comparable to Connor Asfaw's. Her father being a wolfman, she guessed that was excusable.
But that didn't mean he was exempt from the constant teasing.
She resumed her sorting, mindlessly picking through the foot clothing like she picked her regular clothing- not having a selection in mind because she didn't intend to deviate from her daily norm in the first place.
"Give it up, Dyn. We know all too well you're not going to put anything on your feet."
Bleddyn sighed and forcefully flung a rogue flip-flop to oblivion. "Morning to you too, D a d." Without turning around, she sang a hypothesis. "Betcha Mom's right behind you, poking the perk out of your hair because, 'for the millionth time, her name's not Dyn!', amiright?" Her father's name for his daughter wasn't exactly appreciated by Ash, and it'd become quite the eternal feud between them- without, you know, actual fighting in any form.
Connor barked one of his impossibly deep guffaws and swept his daughter up in a spinning hug. Ever reflexive, Bleddyn's fist promptly freed itself from his embrace and lightly connected with his cheek.
Bleddyn was instantly dropped and left to neatly barrel roll back to a defiant posture. She slouched against the black quartz counter, a glare of nonplussed boredom smudged across her face in an attempt at regaining dignity. "I said no suffocating hugs, Dad."
Ash's muffled hilarity at her husband's inept adolescent handling skills had Bleddyn fighting giggles of her own. Fleeing the sappy exchange she knew came next, Bleddyn snatched a wordless teal ballcap and skipped out onto the porch. "Guarantee some of the crew's at the pancake house and I'm going. Try not to kill Mom with your hugs while I'm gone, D a d." A protest might've been voiced, but it meant nothing to her once she was enfolded by the welcoming wind.
After cutting through their dew-heavy side lawn, Bleddyn reached the sidewalk and hopped onto her constantly toted skateboard. It was only then she realized today might not have been the most opportune day to forget her sweatshirt.
She quickly weighed her choices- be cold, or subject herself to a possible fate by embrace- and ultimately decided a little chill never hurt anyone.
Besides, depressive drizzling- since when was that not the perfect day?
She dove for her phone as it popped from her back pocket. She tapped it to life, but was greeted with the despised icon of signal inexistence. Who needs it, and onto the sheltered porch cushions it was adroitly flung, a good five yards.
Already blissfully drenched, Bleddyn contentedly sailed down the road.
She gagged and pitched it across the porch. It landed with a cabinet-rattling thud at the mouth of the kitchen. That had to be one of Dad's. Not only were his the most odiferous and worn, but neither she or Mom had feet that big.
Technically, no one in the neighborhood had a shoe size near comparable to Connor Asfaw's. Her father being a wolfman, she guessed that was excusable.
But that didn't mean he was exempt from the constant teasing.
She resumed her sorting, mindlessly picking through the foot clothing like she picked her regular clothing- not having a selection in mind because she didn't intend to deviate from her daily norm in the first place.
"Give it up, Dyn. We know all too well you're not going to put anything on your feet."
Bleddyn sighed and forcefully flung a rogue flip-flop to oblivion. "Morning to you too, D a d." Without turning around, she sang a hypothesis. "Betcha Mom's right behind you, poking the perk out of your hair because, 'for the millionth time, her name's not Dyn!', amiright?" Her father's name for his daughter wasn't exactly appreciated by Ash, and it'd become quite the eternal feud between them- without, you know, actual fighting in any form.
Connor barked one of his impossibly deep guffaws and swept his daughter up in a spinning hug. Ever reflexive, Bleddyn's fist promptly freed itself from his embrace and lightly connected with his cheek.
Bleddyn was instantly dropped and left to neatly barrel roll back to a defiant posture. She slouched against the black quartz counter, a glare of nonplussed boredom smudged across her face in an attempt at regaining dignity. "I said no suffocating hugs, Dad."
Ash's muffled hilarity at her husband's inept adolescent handling skills had Bleddyn fighting giggles of her own. Fleeing the sappy exchange she knew came next, Bleddyn snatched a wordless teal ballcap and skipped out onto the porch. "Guarantee some of the crew's at the pancake house and I'm going. Try not to kill Mom with your hugs while I'm gone, D a d." A protest might've been voiced, but it meant nothing to her once she was enfolded by the welcoming wind.
After cutting through their dew-heavy side lawn, Bleddyn reached the sidewalk and hopped onto her constantly toted skateboard. It was only then she realized today might not have been the most opportune day to forget her sweatshirt.
She quickly weighed her choices- be cold, or subject herself to a possible fate by embrace- and ultimately decided a little chill never hurt anyone.
Besides, depressive drizzling- since when was that not the perfect day?
She dove for her phone as it popped from her back pocket. She tapped it to life, but was greeted with the despised icon of signal inexistence. Who needs it, and onto the sheltered porch cushions it was adroitly flung, a good five yards.
Already blissfully drenched, Bleddyn contentedly sailed down the road.
HoodedHuntress
Songster
(If anyone wants to hop in with any of these, just quote and start it off)
Virio entered the petite pancake house, looking rather estranged, as if he didn't know where he was,faded in some alternate reality which the surrounding people didn't have to endure. He glanced around, noticing some people he had seen before, but not deciding to head up to any of them in his current state, still dazed after transporting himself through multiple walls running away from the policeman. What he had done, he had almost forgotten, but it was certainly something...his mind was a whirlwind of doubt, only now settling down some. His tall frame, clad in a dark brown rainproof track suit, sauntered up to the bar, taking a seat on one of the stools, his legs dangling beneath him lazily as he glanced over the menu. Quite an oxymoron, was it? He already knew what he wanted.
_________________________
Yris wrapped her scarf around herself more tightly, constricting her formerly exposed neck while she jogged the last steps to the pancake house. Already she saw people she recognized inside, wondering whether she would force herself upon one of their tables or whether they would invite her openly. Her train of thought was rudely interrupted a gust of wind which threatened to disrobe her scarf, which she held on to tightly as she entered the building, trying to discretely dry off her tail.
Virio entered the petite pancake house, looking rather estranged, as if he didn't know where he was,faded in some alternate reality which the surrounding people didn't have to endure. He glanced around, noticing some people he had seen before, but not deciding to head up to any of them in his current state, still dazed after transporting himself through multiple walls running away from the policeman. What he had done, he had almost forgotten, but it was certainly something...his mind was a whirlwind of doubt, only now settling down some. His tall frame, clad in a dark brown rainproof track suit, sauntered up to the bar, taking a seat on one of the stools, his legs dangling beneath him lazily as he glanced over the menu. Quite an oxymoron, was it? He already knew what he wanted.
_________________________
Yris wrapped her scarf around herself more tightly, constricting her formerly exposed neck while she jogged the last steps to the pancake house. Already she saw people she recognized inside, wondering whether she would force herself upon one of their tables or whether they would invite her openly. Her train of thought was rudely interrupted a gust of wind which threatened to disrobe her scarf, which she held on to tightly as she entered the building, trying to discretely dry off her tail.
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