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@freelancerde-blog
omina-vincit:
freelancerde:
Hawaii’s a sketchy place, man. The ocean is right there, y’know, shit happens.
What, were you attacked by the Kraken as a kid or something?
I’ve been attacked by jellyfish which are similar but that hardly seems relevant. I’m just saying- lots of ways to die when everyone’s poor as shit and local government is no thing. And when you’re on a tiny island surrounded by countless miles of ocean... lots of corpse space.
omina-vincit:
See- that first one was true for me on /my/ first day of school, I don’t know about the rest of you.
….The fuck did you go to school, the setting of some awful comicbook about an anti-hero?
Hawaii’s a sketchy place, man. The ocean is right there, y’know, shit happens.
Foxtrot tells me you're teaching him how to fight. What methods are you using?
The good ol’ fashioned ‘kill them with anything you can find no matter how weird it gets’.
...and Jiu Jitsu. And some Judo.
foxtrot035:
[tiny, sad laugh] No…not exactly….uhm but anyway she’s really easy to take care of just…i left a bunch of her much and stuff so just mist her twice a day and make sure her sun lamp doesn’t burn out and dump her mulch out every two weeks… I usually do it when I feed her…there’s this lil plastic tub I put her in so she doesn’t go into feed mode in her tank and after she’ll want to cuddle a bit so if you could just let her wrap around her arm that’d be awesome because she really actually likes to be affectionate she just gets edgy when she’s hungry and uhm, sometimes when you sleep she’ll try and get out and curl up in the bed with you and [why is he starting to tear up. why of all the things he could tear up about is he tearing up over his snake] I should go..
[patient listening, then wide eyed blinking] Francis- are you crying? What the fuck? [he takes the snake tank and puts it down on a table, then yanks Francis down to sit with him on the edge of the bed. It’s evident how much concerned and confused squinting there is, because he wasn’t planning on leaving his room today and actually didn’t have his armor on for once.] What the shit is going on with you. Talk.
foxtrot035:
-
I think you do alright…I’m sure you will with her. She likes you…thank you for doing this for me Del…I’m glad it got to be you…Can I uh, come in?
[mildly concerned squinting, but he moves over to let Francis in] Uh- alright. You’re acting kind of weird, though. You planning on killing me? [laughs the slightest bit] You can be honest! I won’t tell anybody, I swear.
[knocks on del's door holding his snake tank]
[opens the door, stares at him] …What the fuck is this?
foxtrot035:
It’s uhm…it’s Pretzel. I need you to take care of her for awhile if that’s okay? I don’t want her going hungry while I’m gone and I just uh…got orders for this uhm…this long mission…she’s easy to take care of just feed and stuff I’ve got a lot of food saved up and she’s very low maitenance. I was wondering if you could…uhm…do it…for me…as a favor…take care of her.
[looks down at the snake for a long while in silence] ...I’m really not known for my abilities to take care of small fragile things. Are you sure I’m the person you want to give her to?
[knocks on del's door holding his snake tank]
[opens the door, stares at him] ...What the fuck is this?
“Usually people eat cake if they like it, they don’t just stab at it.” Francis said softly, watching Del pick at his food. “You know Octavia?” /do you only like her for the food as well? Do you let her see you like this too?/ He swallowed back the burning…jealousy? Why was he jealous? Why did he care? Del was never his to be jealous about and now more than ever he shouldn’t /want/ him. “I uhm…let me know when.” He said, part of him wishing he could leave and go curl up in his bed where it was dark and quiet and safe. But if this was the last chance he had to be with del like this…even if he wasn’t supposed to want it, even if it hurt…he wanted it to last.
Del glanced back up at Francis with almost playful defensiveness. “You’re not supposed to chew while you’re talking. I wasn’t raised in a barn.” He gave a little laugh when asked about Octavia, cocking an eyebrow up to give a very clear look of, ‘Are you kidding?’. “Hah? Fuck no. I have no idea who you’re talking about.”
There were a few moments of silence, as Del kept staring at his cake without eating it, and eventually he just pushed it away. “I’m out of my armor,” he said, “That doesn’t happen every day. Let’s do it now.”
“ Ballroom…dance…” Francis said slowly, staring at Del across the table. “You want to learn to dance.” Nothing in the world could keep the soft smile from spreading across his face. Something about knowing that, getting to watch Del look shyly at the table, it made his chest feel warm and loose in a way it hadn’t in long time. “What kind?” He asked before he could stop himself, feeling almost giddy at the idea of getting to dance with Del. “There’s a lot of different variants of ballroom. I know the waltz and, and the foxtrot, uh, a little tango, and swing a-” He paused, suddenly unable to look up from the table himself.
/Not yours. You won’t be staying long enough to teach him all of them anyway./
“I uhm, can teach you the basics of a few.” He said honestly, eyes on dels barely eaten cake. “How do you like it?” He asked, looking for a way to change the subject and distract himself from the cold, sinking feeling in his gut. “Octavia made it for my-for me.” He said, hoping del wouldn’t notice how he’d cut himself off.
“I..” Del blinked, in awe of both how many types of ballroom dancing there apparently were, and at the sight of Francis smiling again. “I didn’t know there was more than one kind.”
He closed his mouth, glancing back down at the cake. Shit. He’d kind of forgotten that was there. “Oh- uh, it’s great,” he said, kind of stabbing it with the fork without even taking a bite. Shit. He didn’t fucking know who Octavia was. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “Uh- yeah, Octavia is.. a really good baker.” Jesus christ, he couldn’t possibly be fucking bothered to think about cake right now. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest like a goddamn schoolgirl with a crush; It was the greatest and most terrible thing he’d felt in months.
Francis couldn’t help but stare just a little. He tried hard not to but it was rare that he got to see Del out of armor, and he figured he wouldn’t get too many chances after this. He blinked, sliding the cake across the table. “Octavia made it. Help yourself.” He hoped he didn’t notice the many sidelong glances at him, his face, mouth, collarbone. /not yours./ He swallowed thickly, gazing down at the table. “I uhm…thank you…for agreeing to help me. It means a lot. If there’s anything I can do-i know I don’t have a lot of useful skills…yet, but let me know.”
Del swallowed down the ache of already missing Francis’ old demeanor and buried it as far as it would go. “Thanks,” he muttered, picking up the little fork beside the cake slice and taking a tentative bite. “Uh- don’t mention it, but- there was one thing, actually, that I think you might be able to pay me back with...” He took a deep breath, propping his elbow on the table so he could rest his head on it, run his fingers through his hair nervously. “Listen. You’re- into that fancy dance shit, right? Well, this is stupid. but when I was younger I’d always wanted to learn how to ballroom dance, and I never got around to it. Pretty fuckin’ obviously. I- Maybe... maybe...” He flicked his gaze up back at Francis for no more than a second, quickly returning them to the cake, which he was now too embarrassed to eat.
[Txt] Well you don’t have to feel responsible for me anymore. [txt, unsent] you don’t have to feel anything for me anymore. [txt] you can come meet me in the kitchen or the training room. [txt, a few minutes later] do you like cake?
[Text, unsent] It’s hard to just turn it off.
[Text] Kitchen. I do like cake.
Del visited the locker room before the kitchen, deciding to stay true to his word when he said ‘face to face’. It was a surreal experience to take all of his armor off and replace it with actual normal clothes that didn’t weigh him down nor cling to his skin so much, and though he supposed it should have felt like freedom, he couldn’t say he ever really felt freedom anymore. Accurately, it just felt strange. Nonetheless, he took one last glance in the mirror, at his scarred and rather scruffy face, took in a last breath, and forced his feet to take him out of the locker room, through the halls of the Mother, and into the kitchen, where he walked in wordlessly. He had a feeling Francis would know he was there, and exactly who he was, without needlessly announcing his arrival. It seemed inappropriate to break the melancholy silence so suddenly.
[txt] It’s not right to have everyone else get blood on their hands just so mine can stay clean. [txt] I realize that now and I’m sorry I made you or anyone else feel responsible for me. I don’t want to do that any more and I won’t.
[Text] We made ourselves feel responsible for you.
[Text] But if you really want my help
[Text] We should be talking about this in person
[Text] Face to face.
[Text] No.
[Text] If you want someone dead I’ll do it for you.
[txt] I don’t want you to do it for me. [txt] I don’t want you or anyone else getting hurt trying to look after me. [txt] For once I want to be the one to hit back.
[Text, after a few minutes] Are you sure?
[Text] Blood on your hands will never really wash off, Francis.
[draft txt] It’s kind of funny how yesterday I would have been over the moon to know that you care about me and today I’d give just about anything to know that you don’t. [draft txt] Maybe that’s just sad? It’s hard to tell which is which. [draft deleted] [draft txt] Thank you for trying to save me again. I’m sorry that you can’t this time. I’m sorry that even if you could I wouldn’t let you. I’m sorrysorrysorrysorrysor [draft deleted] [draft txt] I hope someone happens to you the same way you happened to me. I hope they make you happy. I wish- [draft deleted] [txt] Show me how to kill someone.
[Text] No.
[Text] If you want someone dead I’ll do it for you.
Francis blinked, looking down at the crushed up cardboard box on the floor. “That’s a box silly, that’s not a friend! I’llll be your friend!” He snickered, crowding into the other’s space. “I really need friends! And I can make out better than a juice box!” He smiled up at them, letting himself slump with his arms around their neck for support. “And I make lemonade! I can make you lemonade in the kitchen cause there’s like 18 lemons for the drinks but they only need like 5 and stuff. But first we should dance so your thirsty!” He laughed, tugging the other weakly towards the dance floor. “C’mon this is my jaaaam I wanna dance with you! Cause you’re nice looking and I killed your juice friend.”
Oh. Oh jesus fuck no no no no no. This guy might be kind of cute but RO wasn’t fucking with any drunks tonight, that was a promise he’d made to himself. And to his beloved juice box. Rest in peace, sweet prince. You were a precious rarity among the infinite garbage that was both the attendants and the refreshment options of this godawful party. “No- No, let’s fucking, not do that. Yeah. No making out,” he recommended, squirming under the arms of the kid trying to escape. “Oh my god- Listen, I need time to mourn my friend and plan the funeral and shit. If you want to dance, go ahead, but I’m just gonna stay here... you.” Oh, balls. He’d done that out of force of habit and now the guy was gonna think he wanted to know his name. RO knew how this shit panned out- next it was gonna be his whole goddamn life story. No. No no no no no. Abort.
Francis giggled as he drained his cup, letting his tongue run along the plastic rim before he tossed it into what he hoped was the bag of recyclables. Did people have recycle bags at parties. People should totally have recycle bins at parties for mother earth and stuff. He hummed happily at the idea, swaying back and forth to the music blaring from the next room and giggling a lil as he wandered towards it. Man he wanted to dance. Dance and then make out. Lots of making out. God he was gonna make out so much. Make out with all the people ever ever. As he stumbled his way towards the main room he accidentally bumped someone, giggling a lil as he turned. “Sorry!” He managed to slur at them, waving and smiling. “I’m so drunk ‘m not straight….no wait…no I’m not straight like aaaall the time. I can’t see straight cause I’m drunk that’s the one.”
RO could absolutely not believe he’d let himself get dragged to such a fucking awful party. He was certain at this point in the night that the juice box he’d brought with him was the only beverage left that was not spiked, and that he was the only person left who was not drunk out of their mind. And then, the fateful moment came, when some drunk little bitch took that from him too. He actually yelled, “No!” as his poor fucking juice box fell to the ground and was immediately pummeled by dancing partyers, it just wasn’t audible over the music. Good lord what a brutal crime. He snapped his head up, hissing in frustration at his apparently not straight assailant.
“You fuck! That thing was my only friend at this fucking party!”
[txt] Dude for sure. You an Nel were like family. [txt] If it’s somethin for Nel I’m your man.
[Text] Good.
[Text] Now never fucking call me Roro in public ever again
