#stu-tow

[beck-tow]

stu-tow replied to your post:stu-tow replied to your post:is rico finally here...

excuse u whippersnapper

calm down grandpa

[vektor-tow]

There was a flicker of something close to inhuman in Stu's eyes, then. Not quite a changing of positions like gears behind the face of a clock, but similar--then nothing but mortified averting of eyes and a mutilated clearing of his throat. "I m-meant no offense," he muttered, neck flaming. "A-and I'm not dead." Shaky hands patted a narrow chest. "Last I ch-checked." His voice softened, and he stepped back, hands raised. "O-only to help. That's all I w-wanted. But you seem to h-have it covered."

The gunman with the sour face took a small step back, averting his gaze from the glint of inhuman quality. Whether by chance or by sheer stubborn will, Vektor was quite unaware of anything supernatural occurrence in that very moment or in the boy before him. He did not want to see it, despite a healthy knowledge of both possibility and fact. “People don’t do that,” the grumpy man stated plainly. “Not where I come from.” Exhaling an ounce of hot breath from his nose, Vektor’s shoulders drooped. 

“’sides, don’t think anyone can help at this point.”  

[vektor-tow]

Stu regarded the man with a look of wryly perplexed disdain usually reserved for someone making a scene at a family reunion. Or at least, that's the expression Stu granted the Angry Man's general direction. Rubbing his neck, the runaway shrugged, then sighed deeply. Perhaps one last nudge was all Vektor needed. He took a cautious step back nonetheless, however, before speaking. "That'd be a b-bit stupid," Stu pointed out, speaking to the primroses at his feet, "unless I walked on my hands."

Vektor’s ears reddened at his own word vomit and the stuttered sass that it was met with. “Yeah, well, you seem a bit stupid. I don’t know your fucking life, Stuart Little.” The man looked away, releasing his gun momentarily. “--or if you even are alive, damn.” His hand returned to his jacket seeking the steel in some sick source of comfort. He was loosing every ounce of the edge his prickly defense depended on. “What do you really want from me anyway?” 

[vektor-tow]

Something about Vektor's gruffness wasn't intimidating, but somehow--endearing. In the way a barking dog could be endearing once you got past how the sound made your ears feel. Rubbing his arms nervously, the runaway swallowed and lifted his brows, attempting friendliness in one last-ditch effort, his voice soft and cautious. "Then p-perhaps I c-could help you get to where y-you need to go?" He might not have been fairly local, but he'd been around.

Endearing was not a word Vektor had ever heard, nor sought in relation to his gruff exterior or his gruffer interior. He had never been charming, even when his temper had been controlled--or rather, suppressed would have been a better word for it. Who even knows. he wasn’t a dictionary. Despite all that, the kid hadn’t yet run for the hills, which meant either the kid was dumb or....no, it was definitely that. 

“What, are you gonna help me get away from this shithole with your own spindly arms?” The words came with a layer of bitterness and an ounce of regret for the phrasing, but like his anger, they lashed out with a unstable vengeance. The target of revenge being himself.

[vektor-tow]

"Or even S-Stu if you're so inclined," Stuart offered feebly, poking his two index fingers together after settling his satchel over one shoulder. His bright eyes flickered inquisitively across Vektor's stern features, then dropped to the ground. Inhaling, the artist took a careful step back and shrugged bony shoulders, lips twitching. "D-do you need d-directions or would you p-prefer to skip into the 'goodbyes' category?" He offered with just a hint of cheek, squinting back up at Vektor subtly.

Vektor’s scowl deepened as much as that was possible. His hands twitched with compressed nerves as the exhaustion and irritation settled another layer into his bones. “I’m not looking for either and I know where I’m fucking going, Stu,” he quipped, placing an unnecessary emphasis on the syllable. He paused then, chancing a look over his shoulder at his surroundings. He didn’t. 

“Mostly” This place had rattled his brain and now he’d lost the last bit of his goddamn mind. 

[vektor-tow]

Looking mildly surprised in the way a fish was surprised to have leapt from the water, Stuart Rodgers back-pedaled a bit and looked at Vektor with a rounded stare. Opening his mouth and closing it (again, not unlike a fish), the young man clutched his satchel to himself before lifting a hand in apology. "Please," said Stu, as gently as he could, "j-just--Stuart. I d-didn't mean to startle you, I just th-thought I--I'd say hello." The man was nervous. Yellow was the color that came to Stu then.

Eyes narrowed, Vektor only marginally relaxed the grip on his gun. “Yeah okay, whatever, just Stuart.” An unfortunate name, spindly looks, and a stutter to boot. The kid registered about a negative five on the threat level list, but that didn’t mean he could let his guard down. This island wouldn’t allow him to relax, then again he’d never been one for that anyway. He sighed, a hand instinctively going to his temple. “I’m not in the mood for hellos.” 

[vektor-tow]

The man with the funny nose looked upset. Stu was having trouble placing the 'why', though. He seemed--perhaps not upset, but irritated. Angry. Stu had seen him on the outskirts of the early-late night crowds that moved through Olympia's streets with the fluidity of a multicolored rain. He was different. Desaturated, somehow. Drained. Perhaps that's why the typically-meek runaway chose to sidle closer to the man with the look of consternation, and ask, "are you lost, sir?" He looked it, anyhow.

The man called Vektor had closed himself off, kept to the edge of it all. The time not on duty at Binary’s side was spent idle, wandering aimlessly till exhaustion took hold. It always did eventually. This evening was no different. Dark eyes shadowed further by knitted brows and a constant look of displeasure plastered across his face. His demeanor as sullen as he could muster with all the apathy he attempted to force upon it. So focused on his discontent, that the quiet question nearly sent him reaching for the gun hidden in his jacket. “Jesus Fuck.”

Vektor leaned away from the boy, blinking at him suspiciously. “Who wants to know?”

[annarper-tow]

May Flowers

Twitchy fingers drummed almost in time to the way the rain hit the stones around and behind them. His digits danced absently over the strap of his satchel, the artist flickering a look around the two of them to ensure no one in particular was listening in.

He jolted back to the moment after drifting away enough to follow a horned woman’s movements down the street, looking back up at his cloven-hoofed friend with another dreamy expression. Focused in his own way. “You think so? I would’ve f-found it more fitting t-to be born in June,” he murmured, expression tinged with wry irony. The Gemini complex would’ve suited him much more, surely.

“Oh–Late J-January, if it doesn’t offend,” Stu offered lightly, perking back up. “Like–the 30th. A-an Aquarius, I’d w-wager. In accordance with c-certain things. Then a-again I’m s-still–getting to know you. And I know quite little o-other than paint, and–pointless zodiac factoids,” he added with a sheepish grin.

Taniel followed his friend’s gaze with the mild attentiveness of a man well-used to friends with quirks.  Stu’s drifting awareness felt slippery to him, almost like his own.  He got the sense that unless the artists made a concerted effort, Stu’s consciousness went foggy.  Tan lent him a helping hand by shaking accumulated rain from the umbrella in a light shower of droplets on the sidewalk.

“There’s all that lore about May flowers, right?  That’s you May babies.”  Taniel chuckled and tipped his head curiously to meet Stu’s eyes with his own brown ones.  “I thought June was more for weddings in this part of the world, but it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gotten my folklore confused.”

“Aquarius!  You got it spot on, Stu.  I think of myself as one even if it’s not an accurate date.  It’s so funny to think that the same constellations have been in use for so long.  They didn’t always mean the same things, though.  Anyway, I’m an easy man to get to know, so long as you’ve got the map,” said Tan, chuckling at some private joke.  He and Stu shared an appreciation for irony, among other things.