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savetheearth2015-02-04 01:36 pm
dead_black_eyes) wrote in savetheearth2015-02-04 01:36 pm
Entry tags:
- !open,
- #action,
- +location: locke city,
- bleach: toushirou hitsugaya,
- death note: l lawliet,
- death note: near,
- devil may cry: dante,
- hatoful boyfriend: yuuya sakazaki,
- middle earth: legolas,
- middle earth: maglor,
- moon child: sho,
- touhou project: flandre scarlet,
- touhou project: remilia scarlet,
- voltasaur sentai kyoryuger: torin
I read the news today, oh boy, about a lucky man who made the grade [February 4, OPEN]
Who: Lazarus Lawliet and open to anyone!
What: A day in the life
Where: Multiple locations around town
When: February 4, Wednesday
Warnings: Mild swearing and suggestive content
A- Willow Ridge Boarding Academy, Morning
With the help of various Numbered individuals, a few discreet contractors and one chameleon-faced custodian, Willow Ridge is coming into its own and turning into a somewhat respectable establishment. By now, it's common knowledge that the teleporter is in the finished basement that Shou has helped to turn into a very comfortable work space, and a clear and efficient path, complete with helpful paper signs, has been established to help anyone who wants to use it get there as quickly and easily as possible. Since he owns and inhabits the building housing the main mode of Numbered travel between echo zones, Lazarus sees some serious traffic, and has gotten used to it. He no longer automatically looks up every time he hears a door and footsteps, but sometimes if he knows that there will be a lot of people coming through, he makes sure that coffee and donuts are available for travelers coming and going.
That's not to say that people don't come to inquire about other matters. L employs Numbered when and where he can, whether they're handy with tools, good with computers, or are just capable enough to learn how to make a good latte. He's easy enough to find, tending to stick to where the teleporter, computers and coffee are located downstairs. That being said, if he's not there and you're looking for a quiet moment to speak with him in private, he's probably upstairs in his room, sitting by the open window and taking a cigarette break.
B- Espresso Yourself, Afternoon
Now that Espresso Yourself is open again, it means picking up slack as the Numbered population worldwide seems to be thinning out. While that makes the remaining Numbered more high profile and curious to the general public, it also means that Lazarus is scooping up shifts and stepping behind the counter on days where he's short-staffed in an effort to keep the business running smoothly. As long as he's making something like a profit, he can put that money into other projects and causes. Espresso Yourself isn't a cash cow, but it takes in with enough to keep up renovations on the school and provide the people working for him with a respectable paycheck. Considering the social climate they're occupying, that's not bad at all, and Lazarus won't complain.
Maybe you're here to sample the vegan offerings on the menu, or for a mid-afternoon smoothie, but if you drop by after school lets out, you might get caught in the middle of some trouble. Four of Locke City High's football players come in wearing varsity jackets, laughing and joking as they order the most needlessly complicated drinks they can. L knows they're trouble the second they start teasing Torin's parrots, but even after he tells them to cut it out, they're talking too loudly at their table, making audible fun of Lazarus, his employees and the hipster clientele. He stares; one of them makes eye contact with him, and grins as he dumps what's left of his latte on the hardwood floor.
"Hey, this coffee sucks!" he says loudly, to the answering laughter of his friends. Lazarus sets his jaw, reaching under the counter for a bucket half full of soapy water and grabbing a mop as he comes out from behind the counter. The offending football player snickers, standing up to allow him access to cleaning up the mess, but Lazarus holds the mop out toward him.
"Uh, I don't work here," he snorts.
"Clean up your mess," Lazarus says softly, pressing the handle into his chest.
Another one of the football players stands up, and the one who dumped his coffee knocks the handle away.
"Look, it was an accident. You're lucky I don't ask for my money back. What are you going to do about it?"
"No accident," Lazarus says, picking up the mop and practically flinging it at the kid. "Clean up your mess, and then get out."
"You taking crazy pills, bro?" the coffee spiller's a big guy, and he's not used to getting this kind of lip from people he could absolutely smear into the pavement.
"Actually, I..." Lazarus eyes widen, then he pinches the bridge of his nose, cringing. "Oh, shit. My prescriptions. I forgot to refill my prescriptions. Uh..." he nudges the bucket toward the jock, who takes a jumpy step back. "Just clean this up, please. I have to make a phone call."
C- Drug Store, Evening
Lazarus avoids eye contact with the old lady in line to pick up her prescription.
"Heart medication," she says sweetly, turning to glance at him. "When you get older, everything just starts falling apart!"
"Yeah... I know," Lazarus answers. "I can see that."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I didn't mean... just that I know it's hard getting older. I'm sorry."
There's a frosty silence for a few moments. "What are you here for, multivitamins? Those look like the jeans my granddaughter wears."
"...yeah, multivitamins."
Lazarus gets his seven different paper bags, dropping them in his basket and ignoring the way the old women watches his back as he walks away. He takes a turn down his favorite aisle; the assorted scents don't make a difference to him, but he takes a few of every color anyway, filling the rest of the basket with disinfectant spray and wipes. As he's putting the last can on the shelf into his basket though, he pauses, placing it carefully back. Lysol Disinfectant Spray, Spring Waterfall Scent. Not today, no room...
He glances up at the signs hanging above the aisles, labeling their content. Isn't there room in his life, now? Taking a quick survey of who is around and who might be watching, he goes several aisles down, staring at a pink, orange, and purple array of boxes. Words are printed on them to evoke pleasure, ecstasy, the promise that they won't be noticed. He reaches for one, selecting it more or less randomly, shoving it into his basket along with the many bottles of Lysol. As an afterthought, he reaches for a bottle of lube, debating whether or not to pocket it or put it back, but feeling strongly that it's a decision he needs to make quickly before anyone sees him.
What: A day in the life
Where: Multiple locations around town
When: February 4, Wednesday
Warnings: Mild swearing and suggestive content
A- Willow Ridge Boarding Academy, Morning
With the help of various Numbered individuals, a few discreet contractors and one chameleon-faced custodian, Willow Ridge is coming into its own and turning into a somewhat respectable establishment. By now, it's common knowledge that the teleporter is in the finished basement that Shou has helped to turn into a very comfortable work space, and a clear and efficient path, complete with helpful paper signs, has been established to help anyone who wants to use it get there as quickly and easily as possible. Since he owns and inhabits the building housing the main mode of Numbered travel between echo zones, Lazarus sees some serious traffic, and has gotten used to it. He no longer automatically looks up every time he hears a door and footsteps, but sometimes if he knows that there will be a lot of people coming through, he makes sure that coffee and donuts are available for travelers coming and going.
That's not to say that people don't come to inquire about other matters. L employs Numbered when and where he can, whether they're handy with tools, good with computers, or are just capable enough to learn how to make a good latte. He's easy enough to find, tending to stick to where the teleporter, computers and coffee are located downstairs. That being said, if he's not there and you're looking for a quiet moment to speak with him in private, he's probably upstairs in his room, sitting by the open window and taking a cigarette break.
B- Espresso Yourself, Afternoon
Now that Espresso Yourself is open again, it means picking up slack as the Numbered population worldwide seems to be thinning out. While that makes the remaining Numbered more high profile and curious to the general public, it also means that Lazarus is scooping up shifts and stepping behind the counter on days where he's short-staffed in an effort to keep the business running smoothly. As long as he's making something like a profit, he can put that money into other projects and causes. Espresso Yourself isn't a cash cow, but it takes in with enough to keep up renovations on the school and provide the people working for him with a respectable paycheck. Considering the social climate they're occupying, that's not bad at all, and Lazarus won't complain.
Maybe you're here to sample the vegan offerings on the menu, or for a mid-afternoon smoothie, but if you drop by after school lets out, you might get caught in the middle of some trouble. Four of Locke City High's football players come in wearing varsity jackets, laughing and joking as they order the most needlessly complicated drinks they can. L knows they're trouble the second they start teasing Torin's parrots, but even after he tells them to cut it out, they're talking too loudly at their table, making audible fun of Lazarus, his employees and the hipster clientele. He stares; one of them makes eye contact with him, and grins as he dumps what's left of his latte on the hardwood floor.
"Hey, this coffee sucks!" he says loudly, to the answering laughter of his friends. Lazarus sets his jaw, reaching under the counter for a bucket half full of soapy water and grabbing a mop as he comes out from behind the counter. The offending football player snickers, standing up to allow him access to cleaning up the mess, but Lazarus holds the mop out toward him.
"Uh, I don't work here," he snorts.
"Clean up your mess," Lazarus says softly, pressing the handle into his chest.
Another one of the football players stands up, and the one who dumped his coffee knocks the handle away.
"Look, it was an accident. You're lucky I don't ask for my money back. What are you going to do about it?"
"No accident," Lazarus says, picking up the mop and practically flinging it at the kid. "Clean up your mess, and then get out."
"You taking crazy pills, bro?" the coffee spiller's a big guy, and he's not used to getting this kind of lip from people he could absolutely smear into the pavement.
"Actually, I..." Lazarus eyes widen, then he pinches the bridge of his nose, cringing. "Oh, shit. My prescriptions. I forgot to refill my prescriptions. Uh..." he nudges the bucket toward the jock, who takes a jumpy step back. "Just clean this up, please. I have to make a phone call."
C- Drug Store, Evening
Lazarus avoids eye contact with the old lady in line to pick up her prescription.
"Heart medication," she says sweetly, turning to glance at him. "When you get older, everything just starts falling apart!"
"Yeah... I know," Lazarus answers. "I can see that."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I didn't mean... just that I know it's hard getting older. I'm sorry."
There's a frosty silence for a few moments. "What are you here for, multivitamins? Those look like the jeans my granddaughter wears."
"...yeah, multivitamins."
Lazarus gets his seven different paper bags, dropping them in his basket and ignoring the way the old women watches his back as he walks away. He takes a turn down his favorite aisle; the assorted scents don't make a difference to him, but he takes a few of every color anyway, filling the rest of the basket with disinfectant spray and wipes. As he's putting the last can on the shelf into his basket though, he pauses, placing it carefully back. Lysol Disinfectant Spray, Spring Waterfall Scent. Not today, no room...
He glances up at the signs hanging above the aisles, labeling their content. Isn't there room in his life, now? Taking a quick survey of who is around and who might be watching, he goes several aisles down, staring at a pink, orange, and purple array of boxes. Words are printed on them to evoke pleasure, ecstasy, the promise that they won't be noticed. He reaches for one, selecting it more or less randomly, shoving it into his basket along with the many bottles of Lysol. As an afterthought, he reaches for a bottle of lube, debating whether or not to pocket it or put it back, but feeling strongly that it's a decision he needs to make quickly before anyone sees him.
no subject
Unfortunately, Toushirou's dead on about the football players' immaturity. There's a loud mutual "OOOOOoooohhhhh," which breaks apart into scattered laughter. "Do you hear the lip on this kid? Pretty big balls for a Numbered runt."
"This could happen to you, or someone you care about. There's no real pattern of prediction to who ends up Numbered," L says. "Don't you realize that?"
"Uh, nope."
no subject
So still no violence. Not yet.
Instead, he moves to breeze right past them like they're not worth his time. He'd had a reputation for being arrogant even before he'd been Numbered; this is actually pretty easy for him. Even easier now, since he knows he can handle them if they decide to get even stupider. He would still have mouthed off at people like this before being Numbered; he can just back it up better now.
Offhanded, but cold: "You have a mess to clean up. Do it and get out."
no subject
Their leader apparent, however, opts for broader posturing, doubling down on his machismo. He is determined not to look cowed in front of his companions, not when a scrawny, crow-like proprietor and short white-haired kid are his opposition. He's the captain of Locke City High's football team. He's tougher than that.
"I'll leave when I want, and I'll leave the people who work here to clean up the mess," he sneers. "I'm not scared of Numbered, no matter how much you guys want me to be."
no subject
Yes, yes. Captain of the high school football team. Good for you. Call him when you're the captain of a division of death gods and maybe he'll be impressed.
He just rolls his eyes at the posturing. That's incredibly pathetic; this guy has got nothing. What, is his size suppoded to be intimidating or something? Toushirou has faced down giant city-destroying monsters, for crying out loud. A normal high-schooler holds no terror.
"Right, the mess you deliberately caused because you think you can get away with it. Here's a newsflash for you; you don't get a free pass to be an asshole just because people don't like us. It's got nothing to do with wanting anybody to be afraid of us."
no subject
"Look kid. What's it even to you, anyway? It's a shitty coffee shop. There's barely ever anyone in here, we're doing this guy a favor by giving him to fucking do."
Sniggering laughter is the answer that gets from his crew.
L moves toward the door, propping it open and holding it with his shoulder. "Last chance," he offers, glancing back at Toushirou.
"Fat chance, cocksucker."
no subject
He catches the glance, and frankly he's done with this whole mess. Oh, he's not going to hurt anyone, but they're leaving now whether they want to or not. He snags hold of the captain's wrists and launches into a shunpo -- a rather slow one, honestly, but it's not like these guys will know that -- out the door. He dumps the guy onto the sidewalk, leaving him to deal with the powerful motion sickness that accompanies doing that for the first time.
Another one takes him back in, looking essentially like teleportation even though for the technique itself it's a crawl. Since the others had minimal sense enough to back down a little before, he'll be generous. In a mostly bored tone: "So you are you guys leaving now, or do I have to drag you, too?"
no subject
Ridiculing disdain has turned, swiftly, into outright fear.