The slums are a rundown, old heap of a town tucked deep in the jungles, with townsfolk consisting mostly of poachers, black marketeers, thieves, and fugitives. While the ideal tourist spot, some travel to the Slums to make use of the black markets. (+2 Defense, +2 Speed)

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The Pot Calls the Kettle Black [Self; E]

Postby zapdragon555 » 01/24/2015 7:02 PM

[This RP is mainly for character development on both characters' behalves, but it's sort of already turning into a plot on its own. I don't know where it's gonna go yet so an E tag is safe. Definitely warnings for language, violence, and possibly sexual themes, as well as obvious racial tension. The characters in this story natively speak Spanish, but because of language barrier rules on the site, all Spanish dialogue will be in small caps. I hope you enjoy! Feedback would be wonderful, as with all of my stories.]

The feeling of concrete slamming and skidding against skin was something of an awakening to Sue Iglesias' cold, bloodless fingers. The blood that immediately welled in the raw, torn skin ran hot against his elbows and palms and the back of his head, his mouth wrenching open in a thin cry of pain. Once the white noise ring had faded from his ears, he heard the sound of the crowd that had gathered roaring with shouts of ridicule pounding against his ear drums, muted every half second by his thudding heartbeat pumping more and more blood to the wounds that almost steamed in the freezing air. A heavy handed fist balled up in his shirt and began to drag him upwards again. Gravity shifted and with it Sue felt a bitter taste rise up in the back of his throat, nausea sweeping over him as he hung like a limp doll in the other boy's grasp.

Shit, he couldn't move. Why couldn't he move?

Winter had always been Sue's least favorite season. His family had come to America from Mexico, more specifically a place that had been blessed with low elevation and mild, warm winters months. Granted, summer had apparently been swelteringly humid all the time, but Sue hadn't been around long enough to see a Mexican Summer. And he supposed he was thankful for that, that the image of his birth country had never been tainted past anything but a paradise of warm wind and gentle sunlight on his young, pudgy infant face.

That had been seventeen years ago, and since then things had changed a little bit. Sue, unnamed at the time of their emigration, had been completely oblivious to the long and grueling process of entering the country through legal means. Partially because he had been a baby, and mostly because it never happened. Sue had never learned the details in full, but what he did know was that his mom had a cruddy job at a food packaging plant and his dad had gotten it into his head to name his first born son Sue and skip out on his mom to run off and chase his own goals. Sue. Despite having never actually known the man, Sue was fairly sure he wanted to kill him just for naming him something like that, and then punch his corpse for all the shit he'd caused for Sue's mother.



But there will come a time
You'll see, with no more tears
And love will not break your heart
But dismiss your fears
Get over your hill and see
What you find there
With grace in your heart
And flowers in your hair



"Tomorrow will be a good day."


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Re: The Pot Calls the Kettle Black [Self; E]

Postby zapdragon555 » 01/24/2015 7:59 PM

Speaking of punching, that was happening right now. Sue was hardly prepared for the meaty fist that slammed into his cheekbone, sending a rush of the taste of blood over his tongue. For a moment he panicked, his heart hammering in his chest to think that he'd bitten his own tongue off, but a quick probe around his aching mouth with his tongue told him it was still in perfect working order. His jaw barely closed, his teeth closing down on something hard and barely square, and he spat out a mouthful of blood and a tooth, one of his molars. Damn, he thought hazily, staring at the ground as his hanging feet grew a little blurred with dizziness. He needed that.

Another hard punch to the head made his vision go white and black and every pastel color in between, and he heard something about a, "Don't you ever think about hitting me again, shithead," in a rough, gravely voice from the guy still holding him up like a ragdoll. The crowd was a conglomerate of cheers and shrieks of horror, and Sue could barely make out a girl's high voice rise above the crowd before fading out again, "Brendan, stop, you'll fucking kill him! Stop it!"

Before Sue knew it he was thrown on the ground, in a heap, the concrete smacking into the side of his head and making his vision prickle at the edges. He was glad to have landed on his side, so that the blood welling in his mouth didn't choke him, but rather dripped on the light grey concrete of the ball court behind the school. At some point his legs must have started working again, because Sue was suddenly staggering to his feet and running for the back of the receding linebacker that always seemed to rub him the wrong way. A furious kick was delivered to the back of Brendan's knees, and the wide-shouldered boy cried out in surprise and caught himself on his hands, concrete skidding the skin off his palms as Sue suddenly leapt on his back and started pulling hair and punching whatever he could connect his fists to, a seething rage deafening the sounds around him.



But there will come a time
You'll see, with no more tears
And love will not break your heart
But dismiss your fears
Get over your hill and see
What you find there
With grace in your heart
And flowers in your hair



"Tomorrow will be a good day."


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Re: The Pot Calls the Kettle Black [Self; E]

Postby zapdragon555 » 01/24/2015 8:38 PM

It wasn't until a strong arm was hooked roughly around Sue's torso and yanked backwards that Sue woke up from his dazed brawling, but on instinct he brought a fist back in an attempt to retaliate whoever was interrupting his beating. Knuckles hit and cracked nose, and Sue was promptly dropped to his feet, the crowd gasping in surprise and immediately going very silent. Sue's eyes focused on his fist for a moment, which now sported quite a bit of blood running between his fingers, and his gaze shifted to Brendan lying on the concrete curled up on his knees, groaning.

Before Sue could react he was roughly spun around by his shoulder to stare up into the red face of the gym teacher, colored both from blood and from pure anger, tears beading in the corners of his eyes. Make no mistake; Mr. Becker was very much in pain, considering the cartilage in his nose had likely been broken in about two places, but as an ex-marine, he handled pain quite well. However, Sue could tell that the man was holding back a tidal wave of blue streak cussing as his fingers dug into Sue's shoulder, and promptly shoved him away. "Get your act together, Iglesias," he growled, his voice coming out just a bit nasally from the gore fest on his face. Sue stared dumbly at him, dark eyes flickering and lips barely parted, a trickle of blood sliding down his throat and suddenly making him very, very nauseous. He'd just hit a teacher. A teacher. "You're gonna go straight to the nurse's office, and immediately after you get yourself under control you're going to meet me in the principal's office. We're gonna talk about this with her, alright? Just you and me."

"Y-yes sir," Sue's voice came out shaky as he nodded, honestly scared out of his mind. He swallowed, his ears ringing as he watched Mr. Becker get a kid, some tall wimp boy named Bleaker who honestly wouldn't hurt a fly, to escort Sue to the nurse's office. Under normal circumstances Sue would be irritated at that. But after a hard glare from the gym teacher and a nervous frown from Bleaker, Sue decided arguing would be the worst thing at that moment.

"And someone help Ackerman there, too," Mr. Becker barked, pulling his black shirt collar up to dab at his nose, glancing at the damage that leaked onto his shirt with a grimace. He glanced down at Brendan, who had sat up looking somewhat dazed, but not in much worse shape than Sue was. "Ackerman. You here with us?"

Once Brendan had been mentally revived and Sue metaphorically shackled to Bleaker, the crowd outside was promptly broken up by Mr. Becker lecturing them all about encouraging fights on school grounds. As much as he knew and respected that sometimes words can't solve everything, fights at school were strictly prohibited by the school board. That was the last thing Sue heard Mr. Becker say before the doors swung closed and the air conditioning felt like a sauna in comparison to the freezing outside air. "H-hey," Bleaker stammered as Sue suddenly changed course, stalking towards the bathroom. "Wait, uhhh... nurse is upstairs... that way, oh..."

Bleaker trailed off as Sue gave him a sharp look, a bruise slowly and steadily beginning to darken his right cheek just at the corner of his eye. Bleaker swallowed, adam's apple jerking as he did, and Sue sighed, his voice coming out in a mutter. "I just... wanna see how bad it is." Bleaker blinked at that, straightening up as Sue talked, looking more attentive. "Like... I dunno, man, how bad did he mess me up? My face?"

Bleaker blinked owlishly at him, then shrugged in a somewhat overkill fashion, his shoulders almost touching his earlobes. "Uhh. I mean... looks like it hurts. You look pretty banged up, um... Sue." Sue's mouth twitched at the tentative sounding out of his own name, and he scowled.

"I ain't gonna go see the nurse," Sue muttered, moving towards the bathroom with a sour expression on his face. "You wanna help me out? Just go get some bandages and gauze and shit from the nurse and bring 'em down here." Bleaker stared at Sue's back as the shorter boy went into the boy's restroom, and after a beat of stunned silence he darted up the stairs, skipping two at a time with lanky legs as he dashed towards the nurse's office. He wasn't about to argue with that.



But there will come a time
You'll see, with no more tears
And love will not break your heart
But dismiss your fears
Get over your hill and see
What you find there
With grace in your heart
And flowers in your hair



"Tomorrow will be a good day."


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Re: The Pot Calls the Kettle Black [Self; E]

Postby zapdragon555 » 02/15/2015 4:53 PM

After a series of events that felt very much like a blur, Sue found himself sitting in a plush chair in front of the principal's desk, staring at a pink sheet of paper that read SUSPENSION NOTICE in large, black letters at the top. Below a good chunk of jargon was a long checklist titled with Cause for Discipline that read words such as Destruction of School Property, Possession of Illegal Drugs, Physical Assault On a Peer, and Physical Assault On a Teacher. Those last two were checked with marker that looked like it had seen better days, the tip obviously frayed from the scattered black checkmark on each space. And finally, below that, there were three lines for signatures. One had already been covered in the principal's scrawling, illegible signature. The next one was for Sue's 'parental guardian.' And finally, there was one for Sue himself. These people expected him to sign for his own suspension, which was baffling to him enough without the thought of having to show this to his mom.

"Alright Sue, just sign that line right there with your name," the principal's chipper voice grated on his ears as he snatched up the pen on the table and began to sign. She talked to him like she was talking to a damn kindergartner. Then again, it was a fine contrast to the deadpan, dark lecture he'd just received from the same mouth about the consequences of hurting a teacher and all of the things that could happen to Sue and his family, such as charges being pressed. When the gym teacher standing beside Sue's chair had been prompted to decide whether or not this would be the case, he simply shrugged and said something along the lines of, 'depends on what the damage is. I'll get it checked out.'

That was what scared Sue the worst. He'd heard about kids getting sent to juvie, heard about the shit that happened there. From what he'd heard, it sounded downright terrifying, but he wasn't sure that having to pay for Mr. Becker's medical bills would be any more pleasant. He dotted the i on his last name and slid the paper away, tossing the pen on the desk as well. It landed with a clattering sound, and the principal smiled an emotionless smile as she picked up the paper and separated it from the yellow carbon copy beneath. "You take this copy, okay? Make sure you show it to your parents, and have either one of them sign it," she said, handing the yellow sheet to Sue, who took it with a grimace. Sue grunted as Mr. Becker lightly smacked his arm with the back of his hand, and Sue nodded slowly at the principal.

"Yes, ma'am," he mumbled, his brown eyes flicking over the flimsy slip of paper, and his own signature scrawled across the bottom. He might as well have just signed his death warrant.

"I hope I don't have to see you in here anytime soon, Sue!" the principal chirped, her blond hair tied back in a bun that made her pale, angular face all the more terrifying to look at. "You may go now. Have a nice rest of the day!"

Yeah, sure. No fucking problem.



But there will come a time
You'll see, with no more tears
And love will not break your heart
But dismiss your fears
Get over your hill and see
What you find there
With grace in your heart
And flowers in your hair



"Tomorrow will be a good day."


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Re: The Pot Calls the Kettle Black [Self; E]

Postby zapdragon555 » 03/01/2015 3:25 AM

Sue walked down the sidewalk at a plodding pace, his worn out sneakers making dull noises on the freezing sidewalk. His breath clouded in the air as he tried to curl his fists in his pockets to chase out the cold from his fingers, but the gauzy bandages and split knuckles were making that a difficult task. Even so... he liked the way the bandages felt on his hands, the stiff edges of the tape barely digging into the folds of his curled palm. And admittedly... the rush of showing Ackerman what he was made of still clung to him, and even brought a smirk to his face. It had been awhile since he'd gotten into a real all-out fight like that.

The smile slowly dropped off his face as Sue felt a strange prickling sensation on the back of his neck, as if he was acutely aware of someone watching him. Sue spun around suddenly, backpack slinging with his weight as he stared at the sidewalk he'd been walking down. All was quiet in the slummish neighborhood, save for the faint occasional sounds of horns honking and people shouting raucously. This was some Big Brother shit, he thought to himself as he slowly turned back around, rubbing at the back of his neck to try to scratch off the odd feeling. Sue wasn't exactly superstitious--okay, yeah, he was--but the idea of some kinda vengeful apparition thing following him around did not appeal to him in the slightest. Maybe it was the ghost of Mr. Becker's nose. Heh, yeah.

Sue had been so lost in his own thoughts--something he rarely did, since daydreaming was for sissies--that he'd nearly missed his own house. He supposed it wasn't that hard to miss; a little one-story deal with drab, brown walls and a peeling roof that didn't seem to want to hold any heat was fairly easy to overlook. Sue walked up to the door and bent down to retrieve the key from under the mat--the lock was kind of broken anyway, so it wasn't like the key was completely vital, but it gave Sue's mother a sense of ownership anyway. In a short time he'd unlocked the door, frowning at the hinges' groan of protest, slapped the suspension notice on their tiny dining room table, and run to the relative safety of his room. He had the run of the house until about ten at night, when his mother would come home, and he thanked God he had a few hours to mentally prepare himself for the horrors that awaited him.



But there will come a time
You'll see, with no more tears
And love will not break your heart
But dismiss your fears
Get over your hill and see
What you find there
With grace in your heart
And flowers in your hair



"Tomorrow will be a good day."


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Re: The Pot Calls the Kettle Black [Self; E]

Postby zapdragon555 » 03/02/2015 1:36 PM

The weight of the day must have finally caught up to Sue, because before he knew it his bleary eyes were snapping open to stare at the discolored ceiling as the sound of his mother's rapid-fire shouting smacked his eardrums. "Ughhh... fuck," Sue breathed, rolling over onto his stomach and pressing his face to the pillow. Sue's mother could not speak English, but she certainly knew what suspension meant, or at the very least what an official school document looked like. And usually with Sue, if it was a school document, it was a bad one. She'd signed enough detention notices to know that much.

"Sue Iglesias, get in here right now!" Sue scowled at his mother's grating words, and he flipped over onto his side and shoved himself into a sitting position, wincing as the bruises on his jaw and face and head throbbed. The one in his ribs was giving him some trouble, too. "Do you hear me?! Iglesias! Now! What did you do this time?!"

Before he could really stop it, Sue's anger reached a peak and he grit his teeth, shouting at the closed door. "I didn't do shit! Just sign the damn thing!" Sue immediately trailed off in realization as he realized what he'd just said, and not a moment later his mom was barging into his room and grabbing him by the shirt, shaking him back and forth.

"What did you say to me?! You talk to your mother like that? I'll give you another black eye to match that one!" Of course, she didn't mean it; Sue's mother had a friendly relationship with her wooden spoon and would often use it to smack Sue's hands as punishment as a child, but never had she truly hit him. His mother was a good, hardworking woman, but at that moment, he couldn't help the twisted scowl on his face. There were a few seconds of silence, before she whipped out the piece of paper, holding it pinched between two fingers as she pushed it into his face. "What is this? What does it mean? What did you do?"



But there will come a time
You'll see, with no more tears
And love will not break your heart
But dismiss your fears
Get over your hill and see
What you find there
With grace in your heart
And flowers in your hair



"Tomorrow will be a good day."


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Re: The Pot Calls the Kettle Black [Self; E]

Postby zapdragon555 » 03/15/2015 7:36 PM

Sue was silent for a long enough time that his mother finally released her grip on his shirt, and with a heavy sigh he attempted to explain what had happened in as few words as possible, leaving out the obvious glaring detail that he had been the one to start the fight. The look that spread across his mother's face as he admitted to breaking his gym teacher's nose looked like she'd seen a ghost, and that scared Sue far more than any amount of anger could.

He explained very quickly that they didn't necessarily have to pay for Mr. Becker's injuries--teachers had insurance, right? Right, he tried to console her--if he didn't press charges, and worse case scenario, they might send Sue to juvie. And after a quick explanation of what juvie was and what that entailed, Sue was left sitting on his bed listening to the fading echoes of his mother murmuring strings of 'We can't afford that,' and 'God help us.' Needless to say, Sue felt like a pile of shit, as he heard his mother's panicked sobs coming in from the kitchen. And comforting her would do nothing, for a number of reasons. One, Sue had never seen her like this, and thus didn't know a thing about how to fix it. Two, Sue was downright terrible at the whole comforting thing.

Sue lied down on his back, staring at the dark ceiling of his room with a blank expression. For the first time in awhile, things looked truly hopeless. Not the kind of hopeless he always complained about, but really hopeless. And so, Sue did something he hadn't done since he was nine years old; he closed his eyes, let out a breath, and began to pray. Any other time Sue might've smacked himself for getting so desperate, but if it meant him getting out of juvie and his mom getting out of paying for Sue's mistakes, then he figured he'd do just about anything.



But there will come a time
You'll see, with no more tears
And love will not break your heart
But dismiss your fears
Get over your hill and see
What you find there
With grace in your heart
And flowers in your hair



"Tomorrow will be a good day."


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Re: The Pot Calls the Kettle Black [Self; E]

Postby zapdragon555 » 03/24/2015 8:57 PM

Whatever Sue had prayed for, whether it was a sudden influx of money or the mercy of the school board or an angel from heaven or just a sunny day for his mom to walk to the bus stop in, it didn't look like it was going to follow through any time soon. Sue had woken up in a haze the next morning to the sound of rain and sleet hissing against the sides of his house, and everything smelled like damp mold. Sue sat up and immediately regretted it, as a draft of cold air seemed to worm through every opening of his shirt and snake up his spine.

God, he hated winter.

Sue stumbled into the kitchen, every part of his bruised body seeming to ache in time with each throb of his head. The house was empty and dark, and just about as depressing as Sue could stand. He'd forgotten why he went to school anymore, truancy laws be damned--it was because he couldn't stand being in that house alone for that long. It occurred to Sue, after a moment of wandering around the tiny diningroom table, that their supply of food was considerably low, and what was there was reserved for dinner. Usually he ate breakfast and lunch at the school, since they provided it for free, but today...

Well, one day without eating wouldn't kill him. Sue muttered something to himself and knocked his fist on the fridge as he passed it, walking through the living room and flopping back down on his bed. These hours would prove to crawl on very, very slowly, Sue thought, gathering blankets around himself and trying to trap in heat, just to stop his damn jaw and face and everything from hurting so bad.

He must have fallen back asleep at some point, because when he opened his eyes again, the sun had broken through the clouds and begun the slow process of drying the drenched, freezing city, and as he squinted and grunted against the sunrays draped across his eyes, he heard a knocking at the glass of his window.



But there will come a time
You'll see, with no more tears
And love will not break your heart
But dismiss your fears
Get over your hill and see
What you find there
With grace in your heart
And flowers in your hair



"Tomorrow will be a good day."


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zapdragon555
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Status: I love you, and... and you don't pay me."

Re: The Pot Calls the Kettle Black [Self; E]

Postby zapdragon555 » 03/25/2015 1:58 AM

Sue's initial reaction to the sound was, as much as he hated to admit it, fear. The strange sort of time-warp-like daze that the sudden change in weather had put him in was clouding his brain. Surely this was some sort of burglar, who wanted to break in and steal whatever it was Sue had that was worth stealing. Which was nothing. Maybe it would be a kidnapping instead. Sue almost laughed at the thought, then got up on all fours, then sat down on his bed and stared at the headboard.

At least he really hoped it wasn't a kidnapper. He blinked as the sound repeated itself with just the same amount of purpose, and he frowned, slowly sliding off his bed and walking over to the window. He wasn't sure what time it was, but he felt a bit weak from lack of food, so he imagined he'd slept for quite awhile, and when he better pulled back the curtains to see who in the hell was waking him up at this ungodly time, he was immediately blinded by sunlight.

"Agh, shit!" Sue recoiled, rubbing a knuckle into his eye to try to tame the sudden blast of pain from somewhere behind his eyes, and when he finally was able to squint into the outside world at the face staring back at him, he immediately wished he hadn't.

"Fucking shit, what happened to you?" Sue blurted out without really meaning to, staring at the boy standing before him. He looked to be about Sue's age, with dark eyes and a loose smile interrupted with a diagonal scar that cut so deep into the lips, Sue had to stare at it for a moment to really figure out if the boy wasn't dying. Nope, not dying, but instead smiling back at Sue with a friendly expression.

"How's suspension going?" the boy asked. His mouth seemed to work just fine, Sue observed, slowly coming back down from his initial fright. So he spoke Spanish. And knew Sue did, too. Alright. "You tore up Mr. Becker's face pretty nicely."

"Hey, fuck you," Sue scowled at that. This boy's tone was rubbing Sue the wrong way something fierce. So apparently he was a student at the school... "Do I know you?" Sue asked, not really knowing where to look on the boy; the scar was both painful and anxiety-inducing to stare at for very long, and those eyes looked just about as dead as a fish's. Finally his eyes settled on the boy's hair, which looked like it hadn't been cut properly in years, unkempt flyaway locks curling every which way. "Because I'm pretty sure I don't, and you're trespassing." God, what a weak insult.



But there will come a time
You'll see, with no more tears
And love will not break your heart
But dismiss your fears
Get over your hill and see
What you find there
With grace in your heart
And flowers in your hair



"Tomorrow will be a good day."


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Status: I love you, and... and you don't pay me."

Re: The Pot Calls the Kettle Black [Self; E]

Postby zapdragon555 » 03/26/2015 2:17 AM

The boy raised a hand to stop Sue's onslaught of words and scowls, his eyes lidding in a kind of placid, loose smirk. "You don't have to know me. You're a little bit famous around school, anyway, with how many kids' teeth you've kicked in. And how many teeth you've had kicked in, too," the boy said, then suddenly leaned forward, resting his elbows on Sue's windowsill and tilting his head up at him. "I came to give something back to you that's yours."

Sue's mouth twitched slightly, lips parting to counter, then closed them, a flicker of curiosity in his brown eyes. "Something of mine?" he echoed him, then flinched--literally, flinched, what the hell was wrong with him--when the raggedy boy stuck out a fist and opened it, palm up. Sue frowned and peered into the boy's hand, and his blood ran cold for a moment to see the molar he'd lost in the fight sitting cleaned of whatever blood had coated it when he... spat it out on the sidewalk.

Right.

...what?

"I found this on the sidewalk once the fight cleared up. Cleaned it off for you; do you want it back?" he asked, in a voice Sue would expect someone to talk to someone else about a pencil they'd borrowed and were giving back. Not a tooth. Considerably unsettled, Sue took a step away from the boy's fingers, which curled slightly with an unsure look. "No?"

"What... Christ, what time is it? Who... who are you?" Sue groaned, rubbing a hand over his face to try to clear the feeling of his skin crawling everywhere. He couldn't look at the boy, at the tooth, and anything, he felt like he would break out in a cold sweat if the boy said one more word in that velvety, offbeat voice that sent his spine shuddering with a feeling that Sue could only describe as utterly and completely weirded out. "Get that--get that thing out of here. The tooth. I don't want it--why the fuck would I want that?"

Quick as a flash, the tooth was pocketed in the boy's ragged pants, and he flashed Sue a slow-growing grin, the scar on his lips shifting painfully. Or it looked that way to Sue; it was both grotesque and in a way, he supposed, fascinating. Like the skin had grown inward and made a sort of canyon in the boy's lips, instead of properly smoothing over what Sue was fairly sure was a knife scar, or something worse. "Just thought you might. It's a pretty little one." The hand reappeared, reaching over Sue's windowsill to offer a handshake. "Maria Espinoza. Hello."

There was a silence that followed the boy's--Maria's?--introduction, where Sue had to process both things that Maria had said with equal confusion and slack-jawed bewilderment. Various questions of who and why buzzed around Sue's head, and he kept his hands to himself, leaning away from the outstretched hand. "...Maria?" Sue asked, squinting at the boy slightly. "Wait--okay, first... how did you find my house?"

"Followed you home, yesterday. Came back after school today--it's around three-thirty, now," Maria murmured, taking his hand back and leaning a cheek into it, putting all his weight on his elbow as he jutted a hip out--god, what a skinny kid. Sue was fairly sure he'd get blown over in the wind. In truth, Sue hadn't expected such a clean, quick, and frankly earnest answer. It was unsettling. Everything about this boy--Maria, again, the name struck Sue as terribly odd for a boy, but then, who was he to talk in that field--could only be described as unsettling, right down to that lopsided smile on his face that only seemed to properly curve upwards on the less scarred side. Sue probably should've felt bad for the kid, but in all honesty, he just wanted him to go away.



But there will come a time
You'll see, with no more tears
And love will not break your heart
But dismiss your fears
Get over your hill and see
What you find there
With grace in your heart
And flowers in your hair



"Tomorrow will be a good day."


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zapdragon555
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Re: The Pot Calls the Kettle Black [Self; E]

Postby zapdragon555 » 04/07/2015 8:04 PM

"So what's your name? I heard Mr. Becker shouting 'Iglesias,' so I know that much. You don't look like an Iglesias; that's your last name, right?" Maria chattered on, rocking his hips slightly as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. Sue frowned at that, bristling with defensiveness.

"What do you mean I don't look like an Iglesias?" he snapped. "You don't get to know my name. I don't know you." Get off my property, he wanted to say, but something stopped him. There was something about the boy's inky dark brown eyes that stopped the words in Sue's throat against his will. Sue fidgeted slightly, then grit his teeth and scowled, drawing himself up. "Why's your name Maria? That's a girl's name."

Maria's dark eyebrows quirked slightly, his smile turning a little bemused, a little incredulous. "Maria is my name," he said softly in response, as if talking to a child, pointing to his own chest with a finger. "And my aunt's name, as well. It's my middle name, so I like to go by that because of her."

Sue blinked, his mouth twitching slightly. That made sense, he guessed. Kind of. But why choose a name like that...? "Then what's your first name?" he asked, the sour expression seemingly a permanent fixture on his face.

"You don't get to know my name," Maria murmured, his lips peeling back to flash slightly crooked teeth at Sue. "I don't know you." Maria's smile softened to a coy look, and he tilted his head at Sue, looking up at him imploringly as he stuck out a hand for the other boy in greeting. Sue stared at the hand as if it were a snake that would bite him, then finally sighed and reached out to clap his hand to Maria's and shake it firmly. He let go almost immediately, some stuck up part of him wasn't inclined to touching what looked like a street urchin's hand.

Later, he might be disgusted at himself for being so uppity, for how different was he, really? As poor as he and his mother were. But this kid looked like he hadn't bathed in weeks. "Sue," Sue finally muttered, squinting his eyes at Maria. "My name's Sue Iglesias."

Maria stared at Sue for a moment, the smile falling off his face to a contemplative look, before a small giggle suddenly burst out of him, a strange, bubbling hyena-like laugh. Sue wanted to punch him. He nearly did, but Maria opened his eyes, which shone up at Sue with such a genuine amusement that Sue couldn't quite bring himself to smack it off his face. "Is your father a fan of Johnny Cash?" he asked, leaning his elbows on Sue's windowsill, his head so perfectly level with Sue's punching range that the kid was just asking for it.

"My dad's a fucker who skipped out on mom when I was a baby. So I don't give jack shit if he was a fan of... of that," Sue snapped, eyes blazing at Maria's laughter-filled words, and at how close the other boy was to climbing through his window. A part of him wanted to slam the window closed, right onto the boy's arms. But that could get nasty, and again, something held him back. He wasn't sure what. Maybe it was the lack of food making him weak and wussy.



But there will come a time
You'll see, with no more tears
And love will not break your heart
But dismiss your fears
Get over your hill and see
What you find there
With grace in your heart
And flowers in your hair



"Tomorrow will be a good day."


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zapdragon555
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Status: I love you, and... and you don't pay me."

Re: The Pot Calls the Kettle Black [Self; E]

Postby zapdragon555 » 04/07/2015 11:01 PM

"Hey, hey now," Maria murmured, holding his hands up slightly, his lidded expression growing a little solemn. "I didn't mean anything by it. Just a little jab. It's a good name," he offered, tilting his head and smiling, folding his arms and resting them on Sue's windowsill.

"No, it's a shitty name," Sue retorted, his biting words not holding much fire to them. God, he was getting tired... he felt like every pulse from his heart was rocking through his whole skull.

Maria's lips curved back into a smile, slowly, a small chuckle escaping him. "Alright," he murmured. "It's a shitty name." Sue blinked, and there was a small silence that hung in the air. For a moment he allowed himself to look Maria over. He was painfully skinny, his tan skin peppered with freckles around his face and arms. His stained white shirt hung loose on his thin frame, and his hair curled around his face, completely devouring his ears and the back of his neck with dark, thick locks. And then there was that scar. For the first time, Sue let himself take a long look at it, and he itched with curiosity about where the kid had gotten it.

All of Sue's thoughts were interrupted, however, when his stomach growled loudly. Sue flinched, staring at Maria, then glanced down at his own stomach, then back at Maria, almost expecting the loose smile spreading over the boy's face. "Let's go get something to eat," he said, patting the windowsill and straightening up, twisting around slightly to pop his back. "Come on. You can walk alright, right? Brendan didn't bang you up too badly, did he?"

Sue scoffed, then stared at Maria skeptically. The sound of food made his stomach ache with want. But he had no money, and he highly doubted Maria did either, by the looks of things. "I don't want any food," he said, reaching up to shut his window. He pulled it downwards with a grunt, a bit laboriously with his busted hands, then gasped roughly as Maria's hand was suddenly in the way. He caught the window before it could fall, and he shot a look at Maria. "Dumbass!" he snarled at the smiling boy. "Wanna get your fingers chopped off?"

"I can pay for you," Maria said, keeping his hand in place, his fingertips lightly brushing the window. He seemed unfazed by the fact that if Sue hadn't reacted, he might've really lost his fingers, or at least hurt them. "McDonald's sound good? Don't look so grumpy. Consider it thanks for the tooth," he chuckled, finally removing his hand. Sue's fingers twitched. He would pay for him? Somehow, Sue doubted that.

But he wasn't about to turn down free food when it felt like his stomach was eating itself. He supposed he would trust Maria for now, at least with the task of buying him a burger.

Sue slammed the window shut and held up a finger to Maria, signaling for him to wait. In a few minutes he'd gotten dressed, pulled a hoodie over his head, and combed through his short hair with his fingers as he went out the front door. He glanced around, then went around to the back to find Maria leaning against the window, staring up at the clouds. Sue cleared his throat, jerking his head slightly in the direction of the city, and Maria brightened, loping over to Sue and waving for him to follow. "So you never answered. Is McDonald's good?"

Sue followed after him, not quite sure what to make of Maria's demeanor. It wasn't sunny, by any means. He couldn't quite figure it out. He sighed, picking up his pace a little bit to catch up with Maria, managing a small smirk. "Yeah, McDonald's is fine."



But there will come a time
You'll see, with no more tears
And love will not break your heart
But dismiss your fears
Get over your hill and see
What you find there
With grace in your heart
And flowers in your hair



"Tomorrow will be a good day."


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zapdragon555
Will Draw For Food
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Status: I love you, and... and you don't pay me."

Re: The Pot Calls the Kettle Black [Self; E]

Postby zapdragon555 » 06/18/2015 1:21 AM

Sue was a little surprised at the large tray that was set in front of him, shifting in his booth seat to peer at it better. A hefty selection of burgers and chicken nuggets, and about four large-sizes worth of french fries were scattered haphazardly on the tray, and Sue looked up as Maria plopped down in the booth across from him. "Damn," Sue commented, sounding impressed. "How much money did you steal, huh?" he joked, reaching to pick up a burger box and opening it. He tucked into the food, not noticing the strange look on Maria's face until the other boy spoke.

"Why do you only speak English in here?" Maria asked, reaching for a french fry and nibbling on the tip, making his way down the fry in small bites. "It's like a switch. Just turned it off."

Sue glanced up at Maria in mid-bite, then lowered the sandwich, his jaw closing in a scowl. "I dunno, I--" He frowned, glancing around, then dropped his voice. "People around here look at you funny, y'know? Call you names and shit. In case you didn't pick that up, I'm not too keen on being called names." He took a bite of his burger to punctuate his point, straightening back up before glancing at Maria with knitted brows. Maybe the kid could only understand Spanish. Sue hadn't seen Maria around school much at all, anyway...

"Hmm,"Maria hummed in thought, picking up a few more fries and biting them all at once, chewing thoughtfully and licking the salt off his lips. Sue wondered inwardly if salt hurt the scar or not. It didn't look like it did, anyway, since Maria was wearing as calm a face as one could in a raucously loud grease trap like that. "I like your Spanish better." Sue wasn't sure just how to respond to that.

Perturbed, Sue returned his attention and energies to eating, and thankfully, Maria didn't seem to want to talk either. Within a course of about fifteen minutes they'd reduced the tray of food to empty fry containers and a sandwich box full of discarded pickles, and Sue sat back with a satisfied huff, the food putting his spirits more at ease. He looked over at Maria as the smaller boy sucked at his soda, and Sue raised an eyebrow in thought. "So why'd you keep my tooth?" he asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer. And it might have been just as well, as he was met with silence from Maria, who seemed to be staring vacantly out the window. Sue cleared his throat with an intentionally high volume, and tried again in Spanish. "So why did you keep my tooth, Maria?"

Maria's slack posture didn't change--the only thing that did was a loose, slow blink, dark eyelashes fluttering over darker eyes as he took his lips off the straw. "I know better than to waste a perfectly good tooth," he answered lightly. Vaguely--but not as though he was hiding something. Even so, Sue almost felt violated--that was his tooth, after all.

"Well... I want it back," Sue said on a whim. Maria's gaze suddenly flicked to Sue's face, and he set the cup down, a loose smile spreading over his face.

"In that case, I'll need you to pay me back for all this food. Like I said, it was thanks for the tooth," Maria said with a chuckle in his voice, and Sue scowled, scoffing.

"Fine, keep the damn tooth. That's fucking creepy--do you just go around picking up teeth?"

"Yep. Mostly from dead dogs."

Oh. Well. Sue blinked at the honest admission, a chill tickling the back of his neck. "What--seriously?" he asked, not sure whether to lean forward or lean away. The latter seemed like a better option. "Who? Why--where? Why. Answer that one first," he snapped, the sudden coldness around his neck making him jumpy. Suddenly that food wasn't sitting so well.

Maria was quiet for a long moment, the smile softening on his face to a contemplative look as he settled back in the booth. The large seat made him look even smaller, Sue thought offhandedly, and clung to that thought, because it was a hell of a lot more pleasant then the thought of Maria ripping teeth out of dead dogs' skulls. "I think... it's because of my grandfather," he murmured in thought, tilting his head up to stare at the ceiling, almost avoiding Sue's gaze. Sue waited for more, but Maria was silent, and Sue frowned, kicking his shoe out to gently tap Maria's foot. All at once Maria came to life, and he stood up, picking up the tray. "Come on--we should walk. It's a nice day out."



But there will come a time
You'll see, with no more tears
And love will not break your heart
But dismiss your fears
Get over your hill and see
What you find there
With grace in your heart
And flowers in your hair



"Tomorrow will be a good day."


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User avatar
zapdragon555
Will Draw For Food
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Keystones: 485
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Joined: 02/24/2009 11:10 PM
Location: "I mean... for me, I could love someone even if I, you know, wasn't paid for it...
Status: I love you, and... and you don't pay me."


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