The Hidden Door-A Role Play (AKA The Most Dangerous Coffee Shop II)

Aella leaned back slightly when he spoke, his gentle voice still seeming far too loud for her. Part of her had a retort on her tongue, a lie instantaneously forming. A laugh would be forced and they'd fall back into silence and she wouldn't have to answer a question she hated.


No one asked her how she was, and when they did she didn't know how to answer. The strange predicament she found, was that when people ask how you are, they don't really care. Normally it was asked carelessly, like they had to ask but silently wished you would stay silent and say you were fine.


Most of the time people didn't care.


In the light of the flames, her face twitched, her nose scrunching slightly as she thought. Realizing that the silence had been drawing on uncomfortably long, she drew in a heavy breath. She finally drew her gaze away from the fire to settle on Ciro's. It was nearly impossible to admit, and she thought about looking away and not uttering another word to him, but she forced herself to keep eye contact and speak.


"I've...I've been better."
Ciro nodded. Judging by the silence, it'd taken a lot for her to admit that. No one liked admitting they weren't okay.
Especially not those who were used to only looking to themselves for help.
Meeting her gaze, he found that it was forced, and looked away for her.
"It's hard to fix."
He left the slot for the direct object, the receiver of the fixing, wide open. They had to fix others, they had to fix themselves, and now they had to fix the world.

It was hard to do it all.

"There's a man back home," Ciro began suddenly, surprising himself probably more than she was. "Señor Serrano. He had a good life, good job, great family. But he sure loved his drink. Then he lost everything good until all he had left was his alcohol. His wife gave him the option to drop the drinking or be kicked out."
Why was he telling her this? It wasn't even entirely relevant; certainly Hana and the others weren't irredeemable alcoholics. But he got the distinct notion Aella didn't want to talk about herself. So Ciro the storyteller was going to fill the lull.
"He got kicked out. Now he roams the streets with never more than a dozen pesos in his pockets, a headlamp around his neck, and always, always, that wretched bottle not far from his lips. In the rare event he's sober, h-he calls me…” Unexpectedly, Ciro teared up. It was the first time in a whole few days that he’d lost it over the life the vortex had taken him from. And, weirdly enough, it was Señor Serrano that got him crying. “…he calls me his son. But, the thing is, he could have his own sons back- and his daughters. All he has to do is drop the bottle in his fist. But he won’t. He will not, and what he also will not do is admit he’s going about anything wrong. He’s got his pride.” He shook his head, but he kept his eyes open and let the dim world spin around him. “Pride. People and their pride.”
 
Blair gave a long stretch, still getting used to the strangeness of having four feet and suddenly being colorblind. No matter how many times she turned and stayed in control, she didn't get used to it.
Her muzzle tilted upwards, observing the stars and, once again, noting the lack of moon. She straightened, flicking her tail as an invitation for Take to follow her as she made her way out of the small cove, still heading away from the Rugæ town.
(im so sorry LB I literally cant think of anything to do. we can literally just leave them if you want or like you or Amer can yeet something at them but I am having a very hard time writing creative stuff)
 
The night seemed to pass in a rush of energy and giddiness. Cam was dancing. Dancing with Kipp. When nearly everyone left, she felt a bit dazed and confused, and hungry and exhausted. Her limbs all had a shaky, fluttery feeling. “How long has it been?” she asked. It hadn’t felt very long. Korim was eating, and she asked, “Do you want dinner, because I do,” Cam told Kipp. The meat, hard-crusted bread, and vegetables that Korim was eating looked very inviting.

”Yeah,” Noah muttered. Even Cam was being unusually not-very-viligant and had abandoned him. Now she was dancing with Kipp. Not that Noah was much of a threat. He’d been bored for a while, unable to occupy himself, but now he was just tired and unmotivated to do anything
He slowly sank into the chair and drifted to sleep.

"I have no idea." He said in answer. Following her gaze to Korim who'd found something to eat.
“Do you want dinner, because I do,” Cam asked. Kipp shook his head. He'd thought the soup had been supper, and he'd barely been able to eat that.
"No, I'm not hungry. you go ahead."
 
"I have no idea." He said in answer. Following her gaze to Korim who'd found something to eat.
“Do you want dinner, because I do,” Cam asked. Kipp shook his head. He'd thought the soup had been supper, and he'd barely been able to eat that.
"No, I'm not hungry. you go ahead."
Cam raised her eyebrows. What’s his problem? I’m starved! (No seriously what’s his problem?)
She shrugged and told Korim, “Do you mind if I order the same thing you have? I can pay, I just can’t communicate very well.”
Korim shrugged and ordered what he had and soon Cam sat down with her meal at a separate table. “Are you sure you don’t want any?” She asked, raising her fork to her lips.
Noah pounced at the sight of food and snatched her roll without even asking, looking very defensive as he sat on the floor gnawing on the bread.
Wow, something really changed him down in those mines. We need to change those habits before he gets home.
“You could have just asked,” she called down.
 
Ciro nodded. Judging by the silence, it'd taken a lot for her to admit that. No one liked admitting they weren't okay.
Especially not those who were used to only looking to themselves for help.
Meeting her gaze, he found that it was forced, and looked away for her.
"It's hard to fix."
He left the slot for the direct object, the receiver of the fixing, wide open. They had to fix others, they had to fix themselves, and now they had to fix the world.

It was hard to do it all.

"There's a man back home," Ciro began suddenly, surprising himself probably more than she was. "Señor Serrano. He had a good life, good job, great family. But he sure loved his drink. Then he lost everything good until all he had left was his alcohol. His wife gave him the option to drop the drinking or be kicked out."
Why was he telling her this? It wasn't even entirely relevant; certainly Hana and the others weren't irredeemable alcoholics. But he got the distinct notion Aella didn't want to talk about herself. So Ciro the storyteller was going to fill the lull.
"He got kicked out. Now he roams the streets with never more than a dozen pesos in his pockets, a headlamp around his neck, and always, always, that wretched bottle not far from his lips. In the rare event he's sober, h-he calls me…” Unexpectedly, Ciro teared up. It was the first time in a whole few days that he’d lost it over the life the vortex had taken him from. And, weirdly enough, it was Señor Serrano that got him crying. “…he calls me his son. But, the thing is, he could have his own sons back- and his daughters. All he has to do is drop the bottle in his fist. But he won’t. He will not, and what he also will not do is admit he’s going about anything wrong. He’s got his pride.” He shook his head, but he kept his eyes open and let the dim world spin around him. “Pride. People and their pride.”
Aella wasn't a storyteller. Maybe she could have been at some point— she had enough stories to fill hundreds of pages —yet she had never had anyone to tell such stories. But she could listen.
And listen she did. Almost always silent and still, except for the occasional tilt of her head or narrowing of her eyes when she couldn't quite translate the Spanish he spoke. When his voice cracked, her gaze whipped back around, falling on his face. There was just enough light that she could see the distinct hurt in his face, a violent flash of empathy for him consuming her, entirely unexpected. Or maybe it wasn't as unexpected as she would like to think. She had gotten the feeling Ciro didn't have a father figure present, and as much as she didn't want to admit it, she could empathize with that hurt. It was an all too familiar feeling.
"Pride," she repeated softly, shifting closer to him, but not daring to offer a consoling hand. "Pride can be a wonderful thing. But falling into the possession of the wrong person? It can break so many things. Pride and alcohol, though? It's a near deadly mix if I've ever seen one." Her gaze instantly dropped from his face, back to her handful of sizzling flames. "Some people need it, though. Or they think they do. I guess forgetting is better then facing their unfortunete reality. No matter how many people it hurts in the process." And she stopped there.
Because suddenly she realized there was a concerning lack of air in her lungs, and she drew in a long, shuddering breath, swallowing down the rising tears. She looked back at him, and seeing his expression, she was determined to not look away. "You okay, Ciro?"
 
Cam raised her eyebrows. What’s his problem? I’m starved! (No seriously what’s his problem?)
She shrugged and told Korim, “Do you mind if I order the same thing you have? I can pay, I just can’t communicate very well.”
Korim shrugged and ordered what he had and soon Cam sat down with her meal at a separate table. “Are you sure you don’t want any?” She asked, raising her fork to her lips.
Noah pounced at the sight of food and snatched her roll without even asking, looking very defensive as he sat on the floor gnawing on the bread.
Wow, something really changed him down in those mines. We need to change those habits before he gets home.
“You could have just asked,” she called down.
(Multiple things. Mostly, it's me having a hard time cause I've had a migraine for several days.)

Kipp hesitated at Cam's repeated offer of food. He smiled, not wanting to explain why he wanted to disappear. Dancing had been fun. He didn't want to know why she'd asked him to dance out of the blue, and then told him to forget it before he could answer. He'd rather just be happy, and not wonder why she'd asked him to dance and then changed her mind before he'd said yes.
Food was, something he knew he needed, it might even help with the headache that had decided to settle in behind his eyes. He felt empty, not exactly hungry just hollow. But sitting would mean talking, and talking would mean questions. Questions that he either didn't know the answer to, or that he didn't want to answer. And then he would inevitably screw up, and Cam would be mad at him again. But, maybe he should just get it over with. He sat down next to her with a quiet sigh, picking nervously at his broken fingernails under the edge of the table. Maybe she wouldn't ask anything if he didn't shut up. He could try that.

"...."

If he had anything to say.... The only thing that came to mind was Noah's teasing, saying that she liked him. But he didn't want to bring that up. Then again, it would be distracting enough. Or he could talk about what he'd been up to between September and now. Not that he particularly wanted to talk about that either. He suddenly remembered the thing he had in his pocket, but right now didn't seem like the right time.

He'd been sitting there too long not saying anything. "So, umm, what's your family like?" He asked, falling back on his default getting to know people questions.
 
(Multiple things. Mostly, it's me having a hard time cause I've had a migraine for several days.)

Kipp hesitated at Cam's repeated offer of food. He smiled, not wanting to explain why he wanted to disappear. Dancing had been fun. He didn't want to know why she'd asked him to dance out of the blue, and then told him to forget it before he could answer. He'd rather just be happy, and not wonder why she'd asked him to dance and then changed her mind before he'd said yes.
Food was, something he knew he needed, it might even help with the headache that had decided to settle in behind his eyes. He felt empty, not exactly hungry just hollow. But sitting would mean talking, and talking would mean questions. Questions that he either didn't know the answer to, or that he didn't want to answer. And then he would inevitably screw up, and Cam would be mad at him again. But, maybe he should just get it over with. He sat down next to her with a quiet sigh, picking nervously at his broken fingernails under the edge of the table. Maybe she wouldn't ask anything if he didn't shut up. He could try that.

"...."

If he had anything to say.... The only thing that came to mind was Noah's teasing, saying that she liked him. But he didn't want to bring that up. Then again, it would be distracting enough. Or he could talk about what he'd been up to between September and now. Not that he particularly wanted to talk about that either. He suddenly remembered the thing he had in his pocket, but right now didn't seem like the right time.

He'd been sitting there too long not saying anything. "So, umm, what's your family like?" He asked, falling back on his default getting to know people questions.
“They’re nice. I have a younger brother, and a mom and a dad. My brother and my dad look a lot like me, but mom doesn’t. She’s taller than me and she’s German. We look nothing alike.” Cam grinned. “My Dad’s really fun easy to talk to. And my Mom’s really nice and loving.” She laughed because it sounded like she had to politely describe them for school and she used “nice” and “loving” like everyone else because those were the only adjectives she could come up with.
“Anyways, they’re probably really worried about me. Will they even believe me this time when I tell them what happened to me? It might be better if I never manage to get back.”
 
“They’re nice. I have a younger brother, and a mom and a dad. My brother and my dad look a lot like me, but mom doesn’t. She’s taller than me and she’s German. We look nothing alike.” Cam grinned. “My Dad’s really fun easy to talk to. And my Mom’s really nice and loving.” She laughed because it sounded like she had to politely describe them for school and she used “nice” and “loving” like everyone else because those were the only adjectives she could come up with.
“Anyways, they’re probably really worried about me. Will they even believe me this time when I tell them what happened to me? It might be better if I never manage to get back.”
(Seeeeeee, he should have disappeared. He's too opinionated, and too tired to keep his mouth shut.)

He smiled at her description. She must really miss them. He was going to say something nice, like, 'Don't worry I'm sure we'll get back.' but then she said she didn't want go home.

"What?! Y-you don't wanna go home?" He was shocked she's say something like that. What was so great about this place? He hated his life at home, but he still wanted to go back. As awful as things were, he still cared about his family enough to want them to stop worrying about him. "Who cares if they believe you? At least they'll know you're not dead. You want them to think you're dead somewhere? Or worse not dead, and..." Kipp hissed a breath out shaking his head. He didn't want to think about that. "We're getting back home." He said firmly. "We're not going to be here forever." He couldn't accept that. He'd find a way back or he'd die trying. What ever his family chose to believe about where he'd been didn't matter. He knew the truth, and that was good enough.
 
(Seeeeeee, he should have disappeared. He's too opinionated, and too tired to keep his mouth shut.)

He smiled at her description. She must really miss them. He was going to say something nice, like, 'Don't worry I'm sure we'll get back.' but then she said she didn't want go home.

"What?! Y-you don't wanna go home?" He was shocked she's say something like that. What was so great about this place? He hated his life at home, but he still wanted to go back. As awful as things were, he still cared about his family enough to want them to stop worrying about him. "Who cares if they believe you? At least they'll know you're not dead. You want them to think you're dead somewhere? Or worse not dead, and..." Kipp hissed a breath out shaking his head. He didn't want to think about that. "We're getting back home." He said firmly. "We're not going to be here forever." He couldn't accept that. He'd find a way back or he'd die trying. What ever his family chose to believe about where he'd been didn't matter. He knew the truth, and that was good enough.
Cam violently sliced the mysterious meat and chewed her forkful thoughtfully while he spoke.
“Ya know,” she said. “I want to get home more than anything, but it might not happen. I mean, I sure hope it does, but this isn’t like September anymore. We’re not even on Earth anymore.” She sighed.
 
Cam violently sliced the mysterious meat and chewed her forkful thoughtfully while he spoke.
“Ya know,” she said. “I want to get home more than anything, but it might not happen. I mean, I sure hope it does, but this isn’t like September anymore. We’re not even on Earth anymore.” She sighed.
"You think I don't know that?" He said coldly. "I'm not stupid." He knew he shouldn't have sat down. He really wasn't in the mood for conversation. He knew getting home was near impossible, but he had to have something to cling to. Why did Cam feel the need to take away the only thing he had left to hope for? Kipp sighed, pushing himself up from the table and looking at some random object in the distance. "I'm..." He was going to lie, and say he had to sleep, but he knew despite how tired he was he wouldn't be able to, and he didn't want to have to confine himself to the bedroom upstairs. "I'm gonna go, track down Take or something."
 

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