Sprinkles & Spoons
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Sprinkles & Spoons
by Mordor 4/17/2010, 12:14 am
Jack Freed
|19|Black hair, blue eyes|Enjoys music, desserts, and reading|
Jack strolled from his apartment door, pulling his car keys out of his black jakcet's pocket. It was days like this, stormy, raining, and depressing that he went to get ice cream. Because ice cream, the very thought of it, brought back happy memories, and thoughts of summer days. He unlocked his car and sighed, starting the engine. The local Ben & Jerry's had the best ice cream around, this being his destination. Once arrived, he muttered of how much he hated rain, and in his thoughts, Jack had forgotten the dark blue umbrella that no doubt was lying by his door. "Wonderful," he mumbled and entered the Ben & Jerry's.
Jack wasn't very particular about seating, however, chose not to sit by the large senior with the erractic poodle. Instead, he slipped into a chair by the window, so he could watch the rain. It was sad in a way, but happy also. It brought crops and trees and what not, though it brought sad thoughts, as if the sky is upset and decided to sob upon then earth. He shook his head, bringing himself out of deep thought and as to what he wanted. Standing up, he reserved his seat by leaving the chair not pushed in and went up to the counter, where, surprisingly, was no line. Jack simply could not understand what made people lock themselves in their houses when it rained. It wasn't acid. He sighed, tapping the counter with his pale, thin fingers, gazing up at the menu board.
"Welcome to Ben & Jerry's!" A small employee exclaimed with mock happiness, shaking Jack out of his thoughts. "What can I get you?" She asked, keeping up the annoying preppy tone.
"Chocolate, in a small cup, hold the sprinkles and a spoon, please," he hated how you had to ask for a spoon; it was a ice cream shop after all. The employee nodded profoundly and flipped her orange hair, walking to the cash register. Hair flipping was completely unsanitary while working in a cafe or such, Jack recognized with distaste. Not to mention hardly anyone wears gloves now days, much less hand sanitizer. And hardly anyone washes their hands. Americans are just too lazy when it comes to serving others. He sighed again, and waiting patiently while the girl struggled with the cash registers. "'K! That'll be 3.79," she said with improper grammar and terrible falseness. Really, he thought, the way people conduct themselves; no one seems to care as to what they appear as to others. He paid with a MasterCard, strangely shiny and used credit. Debit was risky when you weren't rich. Jack took the ice cream and went back to his original table, keeping a eagle eye out for anyone else. Some days watching rain gets boring.
|19|Black hair, blue eyes|Enjoys music, desserts, and reading|
Jack strolled from his apartment door, pulling his car keys out of his black jakcet's pocket. It was days like this, stormy, raining, and depressing that he went to get ice cream. Because ice cream, the very thought of it, brought back happy memories, and thoughts of summer days. He unlocked his car and sighed, starting the engine. The local Ben & Jerry's had the best ice cream around, this being his destination. Once arrived, he muttered of how much he hated rain, and in his thoughts, Jack had forgotten the dark blue umbrella that no doubt was lying by his door. "Wonderful," he mumbled and entered the Ben & Jerry's.
Jack wasn't very particular about seating, however, chose not to sit by the large senior with the erractic poodle. Instead, he slipped into a chair by the window, so he could watch the rain. It was sad in a way, but happy also. It brought crops and trees and what not, though it brought sad thoughts, as if the sky is upset and decided to sob upon then earth. He shook his head, bringing himself out of deep thought and as to what he wanted. Standing up, he reserved his seat by leaving the chair not pushed in and went up to the counter, where, surprisingly, was no line. Jack simply could not understand what made people lock themselves in their houses when it rained. It wasn't acid. He sighed, tapping the counter with his pale, thin fingers, gazing up at the menu board.
"Welcome to Ben & Jerry's!" A small employee exclaimed with mock happiness, shaking Jack out of his thoughts. "What can I get you?" She asked, keeping up the annoying preppy tone.
"Chocolate, in a small cup, hold the sprinkles and a spoon, please," he hated how you had to ask for a spoon; it was a ice cream shop after all. The employee nodded profoundly and flipped her orange hair, walking to the cash register. Hair flipping was completely unsanitary while working in a cafe or such, Jack recognized with distaste. Not to mention hardly anyone wears gloves now days, much less hand sanitizer. And hardly anyone washes their hands. Americans are just too lazy when it comes to serving others. He sighed again, and waiting patiently while the girl struggled with the cash registers. "'K! That'll be 3.79," she said with improper grammar and terrible falseness. Really, he thought, the way people conduct themselves; no one seems to care as to what they appear as to others. He paid with a MasterCard, strangely shiny and used credit. Debit was risky when you weren't rich. Jack took the ice cream and went back to his original table, keeping a eagle eye out for anyone else. Some days watching rain gets boring.
out of character: Is this done well? And, do you want them to know each other or just meet?
words: 466
Mordor- Novel Creator
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Posts : 2069
Join date : 2010-02-23
Re: Sprinkles & Spoons
by Cyn431 4/17/2010, 12:25 pm
Hazel Calister
: 19 | short brunette hair, honey-gold eyes | likes drawing, ice cream, and novels :
Hazel sat down at her little desk, nibbling on the end of her pencil's untouched eraser. She had her eyes fixed on the empty square in front of her. Even with the light pitter-patter of the raindrops against her window, Hazel couldn't think of anything to draw that she hadn't already created. That was something that didn't happen very often,
Eventually Hazel gave up on staring at the paper and directed her gaze to the blue-grey world outside that sheet of glass. Nothing inspirational came through to her, like a bolt of lightning or two creatively adjoined drops (Although that sounds like a good concept, she thought). However, the rain did stab Hazel with temptation. The rain wasn't her favorite time to go out and do what she felt like doing right then... But it was so strangely tempting...
"I need ice cream," she sighed to herself and dropped everything to go to her apartment door.
Soon Hazel found herself zipping up her playful black kitty jacket, buckling up her seat belt, and pulling out of the parking lot to go to Ben & Jerry's, by far the greatest ice cream in town, maybe ever. While driving she thought about what flavor she'd be picking off the menu. Vanilla, chocolate, sherbet... Sometimes Hazel would get a scoop of each if she had the time to eat it all. Or if they had some crazy flavor, she'd probably get that.
It was a bit of a drive, but Hazel thought it was worth it once she pulled into the lot. She pulled her hood up with the small white kitty ears for a short period of time to make sure she didn't get too wet, and quickly shook it off when under the roof. Hoods were not her thing unless she needed it to keep her hair dry.
Hazel stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jacket, thinking she'd need to get comfy, but then noticed the lack of a line. Huh. In other places Hazel had been on rainy days for ice cream, it would take half an hour to finally get a chance to order. Quite frankly this was the first time she came to Ben & Jerry's on a day that it was raining, and it surprised her.
She chose to get her seat at a later time, and went to stand a few feet from the counter, staring up at the menu with a slightly tilted head. There were the usual flavors--but one caught her eye, and in an instant Hazel was up front, waiting for somebody to come for her order.
The employee that came to serve gave the typical greeting and question. "Um, Half Baked, in..." Hazel glanced at the sizes. "a small cup, without sprinkles." She nodded with a smile in confirmation. "And would you like a spoon with that?" the server asked. Hazel blinked and rose an eyebrow. Wasn't that understood, self explanatory? "Um, yeah, that would help," she said, trying to hide the sarcasm in her tone. Hazel occupied herself while waiting by flipping through her wallet for the four dollars she was going to need at any second.
: 19 | short brunette hair, honey-gold eyes | likes drawing, ice cream, and novels :
Hazel sat down at her little desk, nibbling on the end of her pencil's untouched eraser. She had her eyes fixed on the empty square in front of her. Even with the light pitter-patter of the raindrops against her window, Hazel couldn't think of anything to draw that she hadn't already created. That was something that didn't happen very often,
Eventually Hazel gave up on staring at the paper and directed her gaze to the blue-grey world outside that sheet of glass. Nothing inspirational came through to her, like a bolt of lightning or two creatively adjoined drops (Although that sounds like a good concept, she thought). However, the rain did stab Hazel with temptation. The rain wasn't her favorite time to go out and do what she felt like doing right then... But it was so strangely tempting...
"I need ice cream," she sighed to herself and dropped everything to go to her apartment door.
Soon Hazel found herself zipping up her playful black kitty jacket, buckling up her seat belt, and pulling out of the parking lot to go to Ben & Jerry's, by far the greatest ice cream in town, maybe ever. While driving she thought about what flavor she'd be picking off the menu. Vanilla, chocolate, sherbet... Sometimes Hazel would get a scoop of each if she had the time to eat it all. Or if they had some crazy flavor, she'd probably get that.
It was a bit of a drive, but Hazel thought it was worth it once she pulled into the lot. She pulled her hood up with the small white kitty ears for a short period of time to make sure she didn't get too wet, and quickly shook it off when under the roof. Hoods were not her thing unless she needed it to keep her hair dry.
Hazel stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jacket, thinking she'd need to get comfy, but then noticed the lack of a line. Huh. In other places Hazel had been on rainy days for ice cream, it would take half an hour to finally get a chance to order. Quite frankly this was the first time she came to Ben & Jerry's on a day that it was raining, and it surprised her.
She chose to get her seat at a later time, and went to stand a few feet from the counter, staring up at the menu with a slightly tilted head. There were the usual flavors--but one caught her eye, and in an instant Hazel was up front, waiting for somebody to come for her order.
The employee that came to serve gave the typical greeting and question. "Um, Half Baked, in..." Hazel glanced at the sizes. "a small cup, without sprinkles." She nodded with a smile in confirmation. "And would you like a spoon with that?" the server asked. Hazel blinked and rose an eyebrow. Wasn't that understood, self explanatory? "Um, yeah, that would help," she said, trying to hide the sarcasm in her tone. Hazel occupied herself while waiting by flipping through her wallet for the four dollars she was going to need at any second.
ooc: I think it looks great.
And, I think it would be easier if they were first meeting.outfit: Black skinny jeans, dark green converse with cyan shoelaces, pale sky blue t-shirt, cotton black jacket.
word: 526
Last edited by Cyn431 on 4/17/2010, 5:14 pm; edited 1 time in total
Cyn431- Best-Selling Author
- Posts : 5161
Join date : 2009-07-07
Age : 27
Re: Sprinkles & Spoons
by Mordor 4/17/2010, 3:21 pm
Jack Freed
|19|Black hair, blue eyes|Enjoys music, desserts, and reading|
Jack stared at his ice cream as usual, pondering why you had to ask for a spoon. The small white spoon was a piece of junk anyway—plastic or maybe it was lead. That’d be just like a common café; serve poisonous items t innocent customers. Though, perhaps innocent was stretching it. He shook his head slightly, berating himself for sounds like his mother. Then he shrugged to himself and decided to take the sacrifice of dying because of an ice cream spoon, besides, he reflected, it does seem like a worthy cause.
Jack’s tilted head snapped up when he heard the door open. His light blue eyes followed a girl walking in, purposefully to get a dessert. They were blue, however in the lighting, as those in Ben & Jerry’s, his eyes seemed grey. He had always wondered if they changed colors, or it was simply the lighting and what not. Jack rolled his eyes, again—to himself, as he was used to doing everything alone, and then redirected his gaze to the employees. Laziness, as he had known before. Almost all the employees we’re taking up three tables. And there were four people. He sighed, as that only left his seat and the old woman with the poodle that could possibly have rabies.
Which was another thing, Jack frowned, why would an old woman bring her poodle into a food place? Where they serve food? The things you eat. Some things would stay unanswered.
He watched, bored, as the person got their ice cream and paid, etc. He still didn’t understand why some people did not want ice cream on rainy days. Looking down, Jack scooped up some ice cream and savored it. Because it was way over priced you had to savor it. It’s be disappointing is he just inhaled it. And that’d be uncivilized. “This taste weird,” he muttered, disapprovingly shaking his head.
Then his thoughts averted to the girl without a seat, and he decided that he should be polite. Normally, Jack would have chosen to stay alone and not offer a chair. However, since this was Ben & Jerry’s, it was raining, and a girl getting ice cream would have to stand up the whole time, making it not worth the money of the dessert, the same standards didn’t apply.
“Would you like to sit down?” Jack asked quietly, moving the blue chair across from his out a bit with it foot. Perhaps he shouldn’t have said that. This girl could be anyone; a mass murderer in disguise; an accomplice in crime; a robber; a person with a potential criminal record. The possibilities were endless. Then Jack frowned at his thoughts—he sounded like his mother, again. And that was something that worried him a lot. He glared at his ice cream for a few moments, trying not to swipe it off the table with a clenched fist. And that was very uncommon for him; getting angry at his ice cream. Well, technically, Jack was mad at his mother, for abandoning him and his father when Jack was only six years old. It was night he would never forget. But, then again, this stranger wouldn’t know that. Much less understand any of his emotions. Then he pulled his piercing gaze away from the innocent small cup of fat free chocolate happiness and towards the loner, seeing if she had moved or responded yet.
|19|Black hair, blue eyes|Enjoys music, desserts, and reading|
Jack stared at his ice cream as usual, pondering why you had to ask for a spoon. The small white spoon was a piece of junk anyway—plastic or maybe it was lead. That’d be just like a common café; serve poisonous items t innocent customers. Though, perhaps innocent was stretching it. He shook his head slightly, berating himself for sounds like his mother. Then he shrugged to himself and decided to take the sacrifice of dying because of an ice cream spoon, besides, he reflected, it does seem like a worthy cause.
Jack’s tilted head snapped up when he heard the door open. His light blue eyes followed a girl walking in, purposefully to get a dessert. They were blue, however in the lighting, as those in Ben & Jerry’s, his eyes seemed grey. He had always wondered if they changed colors, or it was simply the lighting and what not. Jack rolled his eyes, again—to himself, as he was used to doing everything alone, and then redirected his gaze to the employees. Laziness, as he had known before. Almost all the employees we’re taking up three tables. And there were four people. He sighed, as that only left his seat and the old woman with the poodle that could possibly have rabies.
Which was another thing, Jack frowned, why would an old woman bring her poodle into a food place? Where they serve food? The things you eat. Some things would stay unanswered.
He watched, bored, as the person got their ice cream and paid, etc. He still didn’t understand why some people did not want ice cream on rainy days. Looking down, Jack scooped up some ice cream and savored it. Because it was way over priced you had to savor it. It’s be disappointing is he just inhaled it. And that’d be uncivilized. “This taste weird,” he muttered, disapprovingly shaking his head.
Then his thoughts averted to the girl without a seat, and he decided that he should be polite. Normally, Jack would have chosen to stay alone and not offer a chair. However, since this was Ben & Jerry’s, it was raining, and a girl getting ice cream would have to stand up the whole time, making it not worth the money of the dessert, the same standards didn’t apply.
“Would you like to sit down?” Jack asked quietly, moving the blue chair across from his out a bit with it foot. Perhaps he shouldn’t have said that. This girl could be anyone; a mass murderer in disguise; an accomplice in crime; a robber; a person with a potential criminal record. The possibilities were endless. Then Jack frowned at his thoughts—he sounded like his mother, again. And that was something that worried him a lot. He glared at his ice cream for a few moments, trying not to swipe it off the table with a clenched fist. And that was very uncommon for him; getting angry at his ice cream. Well, technically, Jack was mad at his mother, for abandoning him and his father when Jack was only six years old. It was night he would never forget. But, then again, this stranger wouldn’t know that. Much less understand any of his emotions. Then he pulled his piercing gaze away from the innocent small cup of fat free chocolate happiness and towards the loner, seeing if she had moved or responded yet.
out of character: Okay, cool. I thought her last name was Calister...? xD
words: 569
outfit: (I knew I was missing something) blue jeans, dark green shirt, black jacket, black and red converse
Mordor- Novel Creator
- Posts : 2069
Join date : 2010-02-23
Re: Sprinkles & Spoons
by Cyn431 4/17/2010, 5:56 pm
Hazel Calister
: 19 | short brunette hair, honey-gold eyes | likes drawing, ice cream, and novels :
Quickly Hazel traded her four fraying slips of green for the delectable frosty treat, keeping a polite smile on her face. "Thanks--keep the change," she said to the employee. On a typical day, Hazel would have been a bit more patient and waited for her extra twenty one cents to clink against the counter top. But it seemed like someone was addressing her, and Hazel didn't want to appear rude.
She turned around, curious eyes assessing the scene. Her irises were a golden color, sometimes a bit more melted like honey, otherwise solid like amber, usually depending on her mood. The lights overhead made them too pale to even be considered for either of the two. Hazel observed, and saw nowhere to sit.
Except by someone who was looking up at her.
As a little girl, Hazel had been told many a time not to talk to strangers. That's what her mother always said. Of course, how did you meet anyone if you didn't speak up? That thought alone was what Hazel used in her defense whenever she disobeyed her mother's rule, if "but they're in my class" wasn't enough for one reason or another.
Hazel gave another smile, more kind than polite this time. It wasn't something mischievous or mistrusting. Although the paranoid mind could take it as misleading.
"If you're not waiting for anybody," she replied, walking towards his eating area by the rainy window. Hazel refused to take a chair that was meant for somebody else to pick up, like a different friend or sibling or something. Her statement echoed in her head, and she felt a little stupid. If he was offering the chair, chances were he wasn't intending for anyone else to come. But he could be offering just because he was a nice guy, and I could only stay there until someone he's waiting for came along.
In the end of a brief moment's thought Hazel chose her idiocy over the possibilities and slid into the open chair. "Thanks," Hazel said, her cautious gaze switching from the expensive ice cream to the supposedly generous boy--(No, not boy, Hazel told herself, an old habit. She figured anyone that was her age at this point wasn't a girl or boy, but a lady or gentleman)--and gave her smile again.
From the corner of her eye, whether eating or seeing if the man intended to react, Hazel noted the raindrops and how they fell against the glass, as well as their sound, and their size. She even noticed a few colors, and realized something. "Darn," Hazel muttered really low, intending to be only for her to hear, but if the guy she was sitting with had good ears, he might have been able to catch it. The sketchbook was still lying on her little wooden desk, letting all of the potential images fly by in missed opportunities. Hazel was just going to hope the picture would stay fresh in her mind by the time she saw the familiar toothmarks on her eraser.
: 19 | short brunette hair, honey-gold eyes | likes drawing, ice cream, and novels :
Quickly Hazel traded her four fraying slips of green for the delectable frosty treat, keeping a polite smile on her face. "Thanks--keep the change," she said to the employee. On a typical day, Hazel would have been a bit more patient and waited for her extra twenty one cents to clink against the counter top. But it seemed like someone was addressing her, and Hazel didn't want to appear rude.
She turned around, curious eyes assessing the scene. Her irises were a golden color, sometimes a bit more melted like honey, otherwise solid like amber, usually depending on her mood. The lights overhead made them too pale to even be considered for either of the two. Hazel observed, and saw nowhere to sit.
Except by someone who was looking up at her.
As a little girl, Hazel had been told many a time not to talk to strangers. That's what her mother always said. Of course, how did you meet anyone if you didn't speak up? That thought alone was what Hazel used in her defense whenever she disobeyed her mother's rule, if "but they're in my class" wasn't enough for one reason or another.
Hazel gave another smile, more kind than polite this time. It wasn't something mischievous or mistrusting. Although the paranoid mind could take it as misleading.
"If you're not waiting for anybody," she replied, walking towards his eating area by the rainy window. Hazel refused to take a chair that was meant for somebody else to pick up, like a different friend or sibling or something. Her statement echoed in her head, and she felt a little stupid. If he was offering the chair, chances were he wasn't intending for anyone else to come. But he could be offering just because he was a nice guy, and I could only stay there until someone he's waiting for came along.
In the end of a brief moment's thought Hazel chose her idiocy over the possibilities and slid into the open chair. "Thanks," Hazel said, her cautious gaze switching from the expensive ice cream to the supposedly generous boy--(No, not boy, Hazel told herself, an old habit. She figured anyone that was her age at this point wasn't a girl or boy, but a lady or gentleman)--and gave her smile again.
From the corner of her eye, whether eating or seeing if the man intended to react, Hazel noted the raindrops and how they fell against the glass, as well as their sound, and their size. She even noticed a few colors, and realized something. "Darn," Hazel muttered really low, intending to be only for her to hear, but if the guy she was sitting with had good ears, he might have been able to catch it. The sketchbook was still lying on her little wooden desk, letting all of the potential images fly by in missed opportunities. Hazel was just going to hope the picture would stay fresh in her mind by the time she saw the familiar toothmarks on her eraser.
ooc: Oops. xD I changed it.
word: 507
outfit: Black skinny jeans, dark green converse with cyan shoelaces, pale sky blue t-shirt, cotton black jacket.
Cyn431- Best-Selling Author
- Posts : 5161
Join date : 2009-07-07
Age : 27
Re: Sprinkles & Spoons
by Mordor 4/17/2010, 6:47 pm
Jack Freed
|19|Black hair, blue eyes|Enjoys music, desserts, and reading|
Jack shook his head when she asked her question, “No, it’s just me.”
He never went anywhere with somebody when it was raining. The rain would just mess everything up and could cause accidents. When it rained it was his alone time from the world; go to the Ben & Jerry’s off Fifth Street and to the secluded corner like he was. Though, a bit of company every rainy day now or then didn’t hurt. And since he was always alone on days like this, he thought it might be nice. Besides, this girl seemed polite enough. Unless the polite smile and the innocent demeanor fooled him, of course. But then again, he was a stranger to her, so it was the same for her. But perhaps she wasn’t as paranoid as he. Or maybe she goes around meeting random strangers all the time—as her hobby, he though sarcastically.
Jack felt a half-smile form onto his face when she sat down, and he heard her say ‘darn’. Obviously she had done something utterly stupid and was berating herself or she just loved using the word ‘darn’ for no reason whatsoever. He was pretty sure it was his first suggestion, but you never know. Jack refrained from saying ‘what?’ or something or that sort, and instead pondered whether or not he knew her. She looked kind of familiar, though, he could have simply seen her in here before without giving it another thought, or look for that matter.
He frowned slightly and studied her for a moment. She was different than other girl he had seen. It seemed as if she wasn’t trying to impress anyone, dressing somewhat modestly, and was being polite. It was a fresh change what with today’s economy and all. And she was pretty, naturally, he noted. Not like, put a crap load of make-up on and think you look pretty. He looked down at her hands, she had a small bump on her middle finger of her writing hand—meaning she drew a lot. This girl didn’t look like the writing type; she seemed more artistic and fun, crazy. Since she was being polite and stuff she must’ve been around people more often than himself. As Jack prefer not speaking to somebody if he had a choice in the matter. Usually, he did.
Then he realized that he was staring, and positioned his gaze to the window. Jack didn’t have to worry about his frozen treat sitting on the table melting; they kept this Ben & Jerry’s extremely cold. Almost like winter in spring. And that spoon, well, it was stuck in the right corner of the white Styrofoam circular bowl. Actually it was more oblong than circular, with the rounded edges sort of square like.
Jack sighed in pure boredom and looked back up at the random person across the table from him.
“What’s your name?”
|19|Black hair, blue eyes|Enjoys music, desserts, and reading|
Jack shook his head when she asked her question, “No, it’s just me.”
He never went anywhere with somebody when it was raining. The rain would just mess everything up and could cause accidents. When it rained it was his alone time from the world; go to the Ben & Jerry’s off Fifth Street and to the secluded corner like he was. Though, a bit of company every rainy day now or then didn’t hurt. And since he was always alone on days like this, he thought it might be nice. Besides, this girl seemed polite enough. Unless the polite smile and the innocent demeanor fooled him, of course. But then again, he was a stranger to her, so it was the same for her. But perhaps she wasn’t as paranoid as he. Or maybe she goes around meeting random strangers all the time—as her hobby, he though sarcastically.
Jack felt a half-smile form onto his face when she sat down, and he heard her say ‘darn’. Obviously she had done something utterly stupid and was berating herself or she just loved using the word ‘darn’ for no reason whatsoever. He was pretty sure it was his first suggestion, but you never know. Jack refrained from saying ‘what?’ or something or that sort, and instead pondered whether or not he knew her. She looked kind of familiar, though, he could have simply seen her in here before without giving it another thought, or look for that matter.
He frowned slightly and studied her for a moment. She was different than other girl he had seen. It seemed as if she wasn’t trying to impress anyone, dressing somewhat modestly, and was being polite. It was a fresh change what with today’s economy and all. And she was pretty, naturally, he noted. Not like, put a crap load of make-up on and think you look pretty. He looked down at her hands, she had a small bump on her middle finger of her writing hand—meaning she drew a lot. This girl didn’t look like the writing type; she seemed more artistic and fun, crazy. Since she was being polite and stuff she must’ve been around people more often than himself. As Jack prefer not speaking to somebody if he had a choice in the matter. Usually, he did.
Then he realized that he was staring, and positioned his gaze to the window. Jack didn’t have to worry about his frozen treat sitting on the table melting; they kept this Ben & Jerry’s extremely cold. Almost like winter in spring. And that spoon, well, it was stuck in the right corner of the white Styrofoam circular bowl. Actually it was more oblong than circular, with the rounded edges sort of square like.
Jack sighed in pure boredom and looked back up at the random person across the table from him.
“What’s your name?”
out of character: xD
words: 482
outfit: blue jeans, dark green shirt, black jacket, black and red converse
Mordor- Novel Creator
- Posts : 2069
Join date : 2010-02-23
Re: Sprinkles & Spoons
by Cyn431 4/17/2010, 8:47 pm
Hazel Calister
: 19 | short brunette hair, honey-gold eyes | likes drawing, ice cream, and novels :
Hazel for one was actually eating her ice cream, the chocolate and vanilla hybrid nearly a mouthwatering combination of flavors. It may not have tasted quite like what came out of the tub--oh, she knew too well--but to her Half Baked was always worth anything less than five bucks.
After a bite, her golden rod eyes flicked back up to the guy as he asked his question. Typically Hazel would have introduced herself as Calister, as that was what her landlord addressed her as, following a couple other people she worked at the local Borders at on Sundays. Well, it wasn't exactly local for her, but it was pretty close to the Ben & Jerry's she was sitting in.
But this wasn't business. The spoonful of ice cream quickly slid down her throat. "I'm Hazel," she offered a little introduction, not suggesting anything terribly formal. Of course, if that's what he wanted, she'd tag along. For a few seconds she was silent, and then realized she was almost being rude again. "And what's yours?" Hazel asked in return.
Talking to people and introductions were nothing new to Hazel. At least three times she'd moved to different parts of the continent, and that meant being a good talker to find a way to fit in with some group. The first eight years of her life were spent in Millstadt, Illinois, receiving adequate education and well enough exercise from occasionally helping out the Eckerts orchards. That was something that majorly contributed to her strong yet slender figure. For her secondary school years Hazel found herself a life in Los Angeles, second only to her eighth grade year in Quebec as the worst place ever to live. Let's just say having to learn the French language fluently in about a year wasn't her favorite pass-time. But for these past five years Hazel had stayed here, going through high school and getting into the habit of raising money for herself, eventually moving out. That most recent move was barely anything, just going from a city to a town within fifty miles of each other.
Hazel took another bite out of her ice cream, but looked down at her hands. Independence wasn't the only factor that influenced her move. She remembered that while noting a few pale spots in the center of the back of her hand that never disappeared from under the sink. They weren't from age, but from experience, or perhaps a mixture of both--experience that comes from age. Soon Hazel regretted directing her gaze elsewhere, and returned it to the stranger in front of her. A stranger she was trusting. But hey, who at Ben & Jerry's wasn't trustworthy?
: 19 | short brunette hair, honey-gold eyes | likes drawing, ice cream, and novels :
Hazel for one was actually eating her ice cream, the chocolate and vanilla hybrid nearly a mouthwatering combination of flavors. It may not have tasted quite like what came out of the tub--oh, she knew too well--but to her Half Baked was always worth anything less than five bucks.
After a bite, her golden rod eyes flicked back up to the guy as he asked his question. Typically Hazel would have introduced herself as Calister, as that was what her landlord addressed her as, following a couple other people she worked at the local Borders at on Sundays. Well, it wasn't exactly local for her, but it was pretty close to the Ben & Jerry's she was sitting in.
But this wasn't business. The spoonful of ice cream quickly slid down her throat. "I'm Hazel," she offered a little introduction, not suggesting anything terribly formal. Of course, if that's what he wanted, she'd tag along. For a few seconds she was silent, and then realized she was almost being rude again. "And what's yours?" Hazel asked in return.
Talking to people and introductions were nothing new to Hazel. At least three times she'd moved to different parts of the continent, and that meant being a good talker to find a way to fit in with some group. The first eight years of her life were spent in Millstadt, Illinois, receiving adequate education and well enough exercise from occasionally helping out the Eckerts orchards. That was something that majorly contributed to her strong yet slender figure. For her secondary school years Hazel found herself a life in Los Angeles, second only to her eighth grade year in Quebec as the worst place ever to live. Let's just say having to learn the French language fluently in about a year wasn't her favorite pass-time. But for these past five years Hazel had stayed here, going through high school and getting into the habit of raising money for herself, eventually moving out. That most recent move was barely anything, just going from a city to a town within fifty miles of each other.
Hazel took another bite out of her ice cream, but looked down at her hands. Independence wasn't the only factor that influenced her move. She remembered that while noting a few pale spots in the center of the back of her hand that never disappeared from under the sink. They weren't from age, but from experience, or perhaps a mixture of both--experience that comes from age. Soon Hazel regretted directing her gaze elsewhere, and returned it to the stranger in front of her. A stranger she was trusting. But hey, who at Ben & Jerry's wasn't trustworthy?
ooc: Drawing people get bumps on their fingers?
word: 445 (ahh. fail. D:)
outfit: Black skinny jeans, dark green converse with cyan shoelaces, pale sky blue t-shirt, cotton black jacket.
Cyn431- Best-Selling Author
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Re: Sprinkles & Spoons
by Mordor 4/17/2010, 9:05 pm
Jack Freed
|19|Black hair, blue eyes|Enjoys music, desserts, and reading|
Jack took a spoonful of ice cream, ignoring the fact that he’d soon get a brain freeze and, again, savored the sweet richness of happiness. He heard the girl speak—Hazel. That was an interesting name as he could tell it matched her eyes. He listened silently to her introduction and question, and in turn replied:
“Jack. Nice to meet you, Hazel.” Formal schmormal; he was being polite. Because it was normally not nice to meet anyone, much less ask their name and give his back to them.
Jack fiddled with his plastic spoon that had now taken on the color of brown, for the scoop part, and took another bite. He was completely willing to let their conversation fall into a strangely peaceful and awkward silence. That happened many times when he spoke to people—but, mainly it happened when he spoke to girls. Simply because after the introduction he had nothing else to say. And he usually meet people in the bookstore—where you are typically supposed to be quiet. However, this was different as they were in a Ben & Jerry’s and they we’re actually going to have a conversation. At least, he hope they’d have a conversation since he had gone through all the trouble of giving her the seat and telling her his name.
Then his eyes, still wandering, came upon her hands again, which then gave him and idea for a conversation started. “Do you draw much?” Jack asked politely, taking a large mouthful of ice cream so she would have ample time to answer.
Jack himself loved drawing, paintings; anything done by hand was beautiful to him. Mostly because most American were lazy—as said before, many, many times—and had machines to do everything for them.
He also enjoyed reading, not just books, of course. Reading anything. And art was something you could read. The pictures emotions were the most interesting read.
He looked her in the eyes, as he often did while speaking to people, and waited to here the answer.
|19|Black hair, blue eyes|Enjoys music, desserts, and reading|
Jack took a spoonful of ice cream, ignoring the fact that he’d soon get a brain freeze and, again, savored the sweet richness of happiness. He heard the girl speak—Hazel. That was an interesting name as he could tell it matched her eyes. He listened silently to her introduction and question, and in turn replied:
“Jack. Nice to meet you, Hazel.” Formal schmormal; he was being polite. Because it was normally not nice to meet anyone, much less ask their name and give his back to them.
Jack fiddled with his plastic spoon that had now taken on the color of brown, for the scoop part, and took another bite. He was completely willing to let their conversation fall into a strangely peaceful and awkward silence. That happened many times when he spoke to people—but, mainly it happened when he spoke to girls. Simply because after the introduction he had nothing else to say. And he usually meet people in the bookstore—where you are typically supposed to be quiet. However, this was different as they were in a Ben & Jerry’s and they we’re actually going to have a conversation. At least, he hope they’d have a conversation since he had gone through all the trouble of giving her the seat and telling her his name.
Then his eyes, still wandering, came upon her hands again, which then gave him and idea for a conversation started. “Do you draw much?” Jack asked politely, taking a large mouthful of ice cream so she would have ample time to answer.
Jack himself loved drawing, paintings; anything done by hand was beautiful to him. Mostly because most American were lazy—as said before, many, many times—and had machines to do everything for them.
He also enjoyed reading, not just books, of course. Reading anything. And art was something you could read. The pictures emotions were the most interesting read.
He looked her in the eyes, as he often did while speaking to people, and waited to here the answer.
out of character:
words: 340
outfit jeans, dark green shirt, black jacket, black and red converse
Mordor- Novel Creator
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Join date : 2010-02-23
Re: Sprinkles & Spoons
by Cyn431 4/17/2010, 11:43 pm
Hazel Calister
: 19 | short brunette hair, honey-gold eyes | likes drawing, ice cream and novels :
Hazel kept her gaze on her correspondent the best she could without staring. Earlier she'd been a bit too shy to really lay her eyes on him for more than a few seconds. Now that they at least knew a little of something about each other, Hazel figured it was safe at this point. Even if it was just their names.
"Nice to meet you, too, Jack," Hazel replied politely, and took another bite out of her ice cream. She was surprised she hadn't received a headache yet from a brain freeze that never came. Or maybe she was just really used to ice cream at this point.
Seeing as conversation failed to spark, Hazel placed her attention in separate areas, usually switching from her darkening spoon to the dampening window, back and forth, back and forth. Every once in a while she'd snatch a glance at Jack. There was something about him... What was the word? Awkward?--No, certainly not. Shy? Maybe. Uneasy? As an artist, Hazel wasn't exactly the greatest with words in every situation, but she bet if she'd brought her sketchpad she'd be able to draw her thoughts.
But no. She left it at her apartment. Again, Hazel demoted her intelligence for that.
Eventually Hazel caught her eyes freezing onto him, and did her best to look away. It wasn't good to look foolish--or act foolish, at that matter--when with someone recently acquainted with. Then again, that's practically what she'd been doing the entire time. Hazel hadn't started talking much, she found herself staring at this guy, she forgot her sketchbook... What was up with her and the past half hour?
Then Hazel noted where Jack had placed his eyes--on her fingers? She followed his gaze and probably knew exactly what he was looking at, and her theory was proved by his question. Hazel looked back up at Jack when he spoke, and found herself looking into Jack's eyes--were they grey? Blue? Periwinkle? For Hazel, any of them were fascinating colors. Somehow, they made her smile.
"Mm-hm," she hummed in reply with a nod of confirmation. "If I'm not busy at the cash register at Borders, or restocking shelves, chances are I'm trying to draw something." Hazel thought about what she just said, and where she was sitting right now. "... Or getting a snack. It'd be both--if I'd remembered my pad..." Almost unintentionally her tone lowered to a grumble at the last part. If Jack had a good memory, maybe he'd figure out that was the reason why she'd said "darn" earlier.
ooc: I dunno what to say... xP Uh, cheese?: 19 | short brunette hair, honey-gold eyes | likes drawing, ice cream and novels :
Hazel kept her gaze on her correspondent the best she could without staring. Earlier she'd been a bit too shy to really lay her eyes on him for more than a few seconds. Now that they at least knew a little of something about each other, Hazel figured it was safe at this point. Even if it was just their names.
"Nice to meet you, too, Jack," Hazel replied politely, and took another bite out of her ice cream. She was surprised she hadn't received a headache yet from a brain freeze that never came. Or maybe she was just really used to ice cream at this point.
Seeing as conversation failed to spark, Hazel placed her attention in separate areas, usually switching from her darkening spoon to the dampening window, back and forth, back and forth. Every once in a while she'd snatch a glance at Jack. There was something about him... What was the word? Awkward?--No, certainly not. Shy? Maybe. Uneasy? As an artist, Hazel wasn't exactly the greatest with words in every situation, but she bet if she'd brought her sketchpad she'd be able to draw her thoughts.
But no. She left it at her apartment. Again, Hazel demoted her intelligence for that.
Eventually Hazel caught her eyes freezing onto him, and did her best to look away. It wasn't good to look foolish--or act foolish, at that matter--when with someone recently acquainted with. Then again, that's practically what she'd been doing the entire time. Hazel hadn't started talking much, she found herself staring at this guy, she forgot her sketchbook... What was up with her and the past half hour?
Then Hazel noted where Jack had placed his eyes--on her fingers? She followed his gaze and probably knew exactly what he was looking at, and her theory was proved by his question. Hazel looked back up at Jack when he spoke, and found herself looking into Jack's eyes--were they grey? Blue? Periwinkle? For Hazel, any of them were fascinating colors. Somehow, they made her smile.
"Mm-hm," she hummed in reply with a nod of confirmation. "If I'm not busy at the cash register at Borders, or restocking shelves, chances are I'm trying to draw something." Hazel thought about what she just said, and where she was sitting right now. "... Or getting a snack. It'd be both--if I'd remembered my pad..." Almost unintentionally her tone lowered to a grumble at the last part. If Jack had a good memory, maybe he'd figure out that was the reason why she'd said "darn" earlier.
word: 426
outfit: Black skinny jeans, dark green converse with cyan shoelaces, pale sky blue t-shirt, cotton black jacket.
Cyn431- Best-Selling Author
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Age : 27
Re: Sprinkles & Spoons
by Mordor 4/19/2010, 9:54 pm
Jack Freed
|19|Black hair, blue eyes|Enjoys music, desserts, and reading|
Jack finished his ice cream after all it was a small, and scooted it over to the side of the table. He loved to hear what people thought of their job or hobbies.
Music, line-art, paintings, and things like interior designing were all types of artwork, and that was what he liked to hear most about. Hazel seemed very creative, as he noticed, and not as much talkative as most artist.
He thought about her reply for a few minutes, she did seem friendly. Not likely to become any or be any of the people he thought she could be. Seemingly, though-never underestimate strangers.
Mentally rolling his eyes at his completely ludicrous thoughts, Jack replied after a moment’s hesitation:
“That’s cool; books are neat.” He chuckled and also said, “Oh, that explains it. What, exactly, do you draw? Do you paint also?”
Jack let those questions hang for a bit and wondered if she’d ask him anything. It was definitely possible, but he didn’t give his bio to just anyone. So his answers would probably be short and terse. If he remembered to be, that is. He pondered whether or not he should tell her what he did.
Perhaps not; Jack didn’t do much. Like, as far as work went. His parents had died a few years back in a terrible car cash when they were carpooling some people from work. Jack had decided that he wanted to go peacefully like his father-not screaming like the passengers in his car. Including his mother.
Then he frowned at what he was thinking and shoved those thoughts away.
When his parents had died he was fifteen. Therefore, he had to stay with is aunt. Like in movies-when the aunt is a living nightmare and she’s really old and fat. Jack had ended up moving out on his eighteenth birthday. He had read the deed; he got the ole’ loft a few miles away from the big city in a town over and a whole lot of money. But that was something that he hated. The fact that his parents were dead and he didn’t have to work for all his own junk. Most teenagers, he thought, would be happy.
Coming out of la la land, Jack looked up at Hazel for a moment before taking a sudden interest in his shoes, or the window, or anything but her. And he really, really hoped this wouldn’t fall into a strange silence. As that happened so many times in most of his conversations.
It wasn’t really awkward, like he had thought before, just kind of empty and strange since neither conversation participants could think of anything to say.
|19|Black hair, blue eyes|Enjoys music, desserts, and reading|
Jack finished his ice cream after all it was a small, and scooted it over to the side of the table. He loved to hear what people thought of their job or hobbies.
Music, line-art, paintings, and things like interior designing were all types of artwork, and that was what he liked to hear most about. Hazel seemed very creative, as he noticed, and not as much talkative as most artist.
He thought about her reply for a few minutes, she did seem friendly. Not likely to become any or be any of the people he thought she could be. Seemingly, though-never underestimate strangers.
Mentally rolling his eyes at his completely ludicrous thoughts, Jack replied after a moment’s hesitation:
“That’s cool; books are neat.” He chuckled and also said, “Oh, that explains it. What, exactly, do you draw? Do you paint also?”
Jack let those questions hang for a bit and wondered if she’d ask him anything. It was definitely possible, but he didn’t give his bio to just anyone. So his answers would probably be short and terse. If he remembered to be, that is. He pondered whether or not he should tell her what he did.
Perhaps not; Jack didn’t do much. Like, as far as work went. His parents had died a few years back in a terrible car cash when they were carpooling some people from work. Jack had decided that he wanted to go peacefully like his father-not screaming like the passengers in his car. Including his mother.
Then he frowned at what he was thinking and shoved those thoughts away.
When his parents had died he was fifteen. Therefore, he had to stay with is aunt. Like in movies-when the aunt is a living nightmare and she’s really old and fat. Jack had ended up moving out on his eighteenth birthday. He had read the deed; he got the ole’ loft a few miles away from the big city in a town over and a whole lot of money. But that was something that he hated. The fact that his parents were dead and he didn’t have to work for all his own junk. Most teenagers, he thought, would be happy.
Coming out of la la land, Jack looked up at Hazel for a moment before taking a sudden interest in his shoes, or the window, or anything but her. And he really, really hoped this wouldn’t fall into a strange silence. As that happened so many times in most of his conversations.
It wasn’t really awkward, like he had thought before, just kind of empty and strange since neither conversation participants could think of anything to say.
out of character: xD
words: 444
outfit jeans, dark green shirt, black jacket, black and red converse
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Re: Sprinkles & Spoons
by Cyn431 4/19/2010, 10:26 pm
Hazel Calister
: 19 | short brunette hair, honey-gold eyes | likes drawing, ice cream and novels :
Hazel noted that Jack had finished his ice cream, and time seemed to catch up to her mind. She glanced down at her own little bowl thing, and saw hers too was almost clean. Where had the minutes flown? Oh well, that wouldn't stop conversation... Right? Things seemed like they were just about to get interesting.
When young she'd been told laughter was contagious, and day after day that was proven true. It had been a while since those words had been put into effect, but just a chuckle from Jack seemed to have Hazel following along as well, even if it was only long enough to give her a reason why she didn't quite immediately reply. "I usually draw nature and scenery, sometimes the image itself, or I may add in a little something extra myself in the foreground," Hazel replied, and took another look at the window, coincidentally when Jack had done the same. "But it's a lot more lovely when the magic's right in front of you, so I don't put in extras often," she added. "As for paint..."
Briefly Hazel paused. It had been a long while since she picked up the brush, mainly because she'd yet to remember to stop by the art supplies section of Kmart or something. "I can do it, it's just been a while since I've done it, and I prefer colored pencils anyway," she ended up saying. "That doesn't mean I don't like painting, though."
Hazel smiled to herself. This was more of the say-a-little-too-much self she knew. That curve of the lip almost disappeared when she noticed a change in Jack's expression. Instead it just faded a little while remaining. Another thing Hazel stood by was the title of this one song, Smile Like You Mean It. The band's voices may not have been a miracle, but the lyrics intrigued her for some reason. Maybe it was just the interesting concept to base a song off of, or an interesting way of wording it.
Jack's comment on books came back to her. Neat, he'd called them. Hazel considered that an understatement, but didn't say that. Instead, she once more began to concentrate on Jack. Was he familiar? Certainly if he was interested in books he'd gone to Borders before. Perhaps not on Sundays. Or maybe he browsed and then went to the library. Why anyone would do that, Hazel wasn't sure, so she tossed that theory.
Still, she had to ask. "Hey, you haven't happened to come into Borders any time recently...?" Hazel left the query hanging with its clear tone. She felt like adding an explanation for her question before Jack asked for it, but bit her tongue. Sometimes chatty wasn't the way to go if it began to almost be prominent.
ooc: *whistle*: 19 | short brunette hair, honey-gold eyes | likes drawing, ice cream and novels :
Hazel noted that Jack had finished his ice cream, and time seemed to catch up to her mind. She glanced down at her own little bowl thing, and saw hers too was almost clean. Where had the minutes flown? Oh well, that wouldn't stop conversation... Right? Things seemed like they were just about to get interesting.
When young she'd been told laughter was contagious, and day after day that was proven true. It had been a while since those words had been put into effect, but just a chuckle from Jack seemed to have Hazel following along as well, even if it was only long enough to give her a reason why she didn't quite immediately reply. "I usually draw nature and scenery, sometimes the image itself, or I may add in a little something extra myself in the foreground," Hazel replied, and took another look at the window, coincidentally when Jack had done the same. "But it's a lot more lovely when the magic's right in front of you, so I don't put in extras often," she added. "As for paint..."
Briefly Hazel paused. It had been a long while since she picked up the brush, mainly because she'd yet to remember to stop by the art supplies section of Kmart or something. "I can do it, it's just been a while since I've done it, and I prefer colored pencils anyway," she ended up saying. "That doesn't mean I don't like painting, though."
Hazel smiled to herself. This was more of the say-a-little-too-much self she knew. That curve of the lip almost disappeared when she noticed a change in Jack's expression. Instead it just faded a little while remaining. Another thing Hazel stood by was the title of this one song, Smile Like You Mean It. The band's voices may not have been a miracle, but the lyrics intrigued her for some reason. Maybe it was just the interesting concept to base a song off of, or an interesting way of wording it.
Jack's comment on books came back to her. Neat, he'd called them. Hazel considered that an understatement, but didn't say that. Instead, she once more began to concentrate on Jack. Was he familiar? Certainly if he was interested in books he'd gone to Borders before. Perhaps not on Sundays. Or maybe he browsed and then went to the library. Why anyone would do that, Hazel wasn't sure, so she tossed that theory.
Still, she had to ask. "Hey, you haven't happened to come into Borders any time recently...?" Hazel left the query hanging with its clear tone. She felt like adding an explanation for her question before Jack asked for it, but bit her tongue. Sometimes chatty wasn't the way to go if it began to almost be prominent.
word: 464
outfit: Black skinny jeans, dark green converse with cyan shoelaces, pale sky blue t-shirt, cotton black jacket.
Cyn431- Best-Selling Author
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Age : 27
Re: Sprinkles & Spoons
by Mordor 4/20/2010, 4:33 pm
Jack Freed
|19|Black hair, blue eyes|Enjoys music, desserts, and reading|
Jack’s pale sight passed over Hazel again. Yes, he had definitely seen her somewhere. She had said that she restocked shelves with something somewhere. He had only been half-listening.
It happens quite a lot with him; he can tune people out whenever he feels like it. And he had completely tuned everything else out except himself when he offered her a seat. Therefore he wasn’t listening that much when she said her polite comments and such—he could just really tell she was being polite by her facial expression, they was she conducted herself. Things like that made a difference when one was not hearing, barely, anything another said. Usually, when people start their sentences with his name, his first name; the last doesn’t trigger anything, it gets his attention.
The flickering gaze of his, not directed to Hazel anymore, made no effort anymore to try to be inconspicuous when roaming. Instead, Jack simply let his eye wander about the setting as he had originally done, before he focused in on his shoes.
Then he heard her voice again, which was not annoying like other girls he had met. It wasn’t very preppy, or fake for that matter. His head, which had been tilted down slightly, went up sharply when she said Borders. Why yes, of course he had been to Borders recently—Jack went there every single Sunday.
He found that Sunday was the most peaceful day to go the bookstore. It was almost nearly empty on Sunday mornings as he was not a member of a church like most people around the town.
Libraries, on the other hand, were also very nice, but they were crowded with a bunch of high school and college kids on every weekend. Also, he was not part of a library. Jack being notorious for misplacing things, he just wouldn’t shovel out ten cents a day for a lost book that he’d probably never find again.
And if you lost the book and you knew you lost it for good, he thought, you’d have to pay triple the price for it and a load of fines. Versus the bookstore’s affordable prices, clean and calm atmosphere, and emptiness.
Wait, did she work at Borders? Jack asked himself silently. He recalled her earlier answer and remembered the slightest bit. However he was sure, partly sure anyway, she must have worked at Borders. So that’s why she looked so familiar.
“Yeah, I go to Borders every Sunday…”
|19|Black hair, blue eyes|Enjoys music, desserts, and reading|
Jack’s pale sight passed over Hazel again. Yes, he had definitely seen her somewhere. She had said that she restocked shelves with something somewhere. He had only been half-listening.
It happens quite a lot with him; he can tune people out whenever he feels like it. And he had completely tuned everything else out except himself when he offered her a seat. Therefore he wasn’t listening that much when she said her polite comments and such—he could just really tell she was being polite by her facial expression, they was she conducted herself. Things like that made a difference when one was not hearing, barely, anything another said. Usually, when people start their sentences with his name, his first name; the last doesn’t trigger anything, it gets his attention.
The flickering gaze of his, not directed to Hazel anymore, made no effort anymore to try to be inconspicuous when roaming. Instead, Jack simply let his eye wander about the setting as he had originally done, before he focused in on his shoes.
Then he heard her voice again, which was not annoying like other girls he had met. It wasn’t very preppy, or fake for that matter. His head, which had been tilted down slightly, went up sharply when she said Borders. Why yes, of course he had been to Borders recently—Jack went there every single Sunday.
He found that Sunday was the most peaceful day to go the bookstore. It was almost nearly empty on Sunday mornings as he was not a member of a church like most people around the town.
Libraries, on the other hand, were also very nice, but they were crowded with a bunch of high school and college kids on every weekend. Also, he was not part of a library. Jack being notorious for misplacing things, he just wouldn’t shovel out ten cents a day for a lost book that he’d probably never find again.
And if you lost the book and you knew you lost it for good, he thought, you’d have to pay triple the price for it and a load of fines. Versus the bookstore’s affordable prices, clean and calm atmosphere, and emptiness.
Wait, did she work at Borders? Jack asked himself silently. He recalled her earlier answer and remembered the slightest bit. However he was sure, partly sure anyway, she must have worked at Borders. So that’s why she looked so familiar.
“Yeah, I go to Borders every Sunday…”
out of character:
words: 411
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Re: Sprinkles & Spoons
by Cyn431 4/20/2010, 6:03 pm
Hazel Calister
: 19 | short brunette hair, honey-gold eyes | likes drawing, ice cream and novels :
Hazel could feel the ends of her mouth perk up into a smile once more. Yes, she does live by that song, but people just don't smile when they ask questions, accepting those times when it's comically rhetorical or the sense behind the query is enthusiastic. Otherwise, it just seemed fake, hence disobeying the song's advice.
"I thought I knew you from somewhere!" Hazel said with revelation. Her voice was more excited at this point, raising its pitch just a little, but not enough to make it annoying or peppy, just not neutral. "See--" Then she stopped herself short, barely making a sound with the word. She'd already mentioned she worked at Borders, even if it was a tiny portion of her statement.
Although her eyes had lit up, Hazel's thoughts went into the dark as to what to discuss. She thought about maybe going into music or something, but chose not to, although her mind did began to wander just in case she did end up finding something amongst the notes, ties and subtle vibes.
Hazel wasn't sure exactly how people could listen to that pop stuff--Lady GaGa, Ke$ha or whatever. Sure, the whole techno concept could sometimes be adequate, but their voices aren't worth a crap. Of course, on occasion Hazel will disregard the music itself and go to the words, the roots. In the genre that didn't make a difference because all the songs were about making out and getting drunk all in the trunk of some guy's car anyway. Quite frankly, Hazel didn't think songs should be like that. Instead, they should have meaning--like one of her themes.
Thinking of themes, Hazel thought about her renewal playlist at home, which she'd go and listen to if she felt out of balance. A whole lot of different songs were on there. The Killers, Cascada, Journey, All-American Rejects, Beyonce (Ha, which one of these is not like the other!)... And a couple more artists she couldn't remember. Those and along with drawings usually soothed Hazel.
Suddenly she really wanted to start talking again. Hazel's eyes started to bounce from object to object across the little ice cream shop (which reminded her, the bowl in front of her was now empty as well). Not a whole lot had changed in the past few minutes, or however long she'd been sitting there with Jack. One thing did catch her eye, whether it'd been there earlier or not: a poodle. Hazel could feel her eyes blink rapidly, thinking she must be imagining things. A poodle in an ice cream shop? First off, poodles shouldn't be eating ice cream, and two, why would it be necessary to bring a dog into a place for eating? Why would anyone at all? Hazel rose an eyebrow, questioning the movement.
"Odd," she mumbled without thinking. It wasn't like Hazel to state her jumped-to conclusions aloud. That was something people had a tendency to do. Maybe it was just Americans, she wasn't sure--but then shook off that theory when she remembered her Hispanic... Step-cousin, so to speak, being real snotty towards absurdities. Really, after watching the harsh discipline her cousin got, that was pretty much all the influence Hazel needed to separate herself from her extended family.
ooc: *whistle*: 19 | short brunette hair, honey-gold eyes | likes drawing, ice cream and novels :
Hazel could feel the ends of her mouth perk up into a smile once more. Yes, she does live by that song, but people just don't smile when they ask questions, accepting those times when it's comically rhetorical or the sense behind the query is enthusiastic. Otherwise, it just seemed fake, hence disobeying the song's advice.
"I thought I knew you from somewhere!" Hazel said with revelation. Her voice was more excited at this point, raising its pitch just a little, but not enough to make it annoying or peppy, just not neutral. "See--" Then she stopped herself short, barely making a sound with the word. She'd already mentioned she worked at Borders, even if it was a tiny portion of her statement.
Although her eyes had lit up, Hazel's thoughts went into the dark as to what to discuss. She thought about maybe going into music or something, but chose not to, although her mind did began to wander just in case she did end up finding something amongst the notes, ties and subtle vibes.
Hazel wasn't sure exactly how people could listen to that pop stuff--Lady GaGa, Ke$ha or whatever. Sure, the whole techno concept could sometimes be adequate, but their voices aren't worth a crap. Of course, on occasion Hazel will disregard the music itself and go to the words, the roots. In the genre that didn't make a difference because all the songs were about making out and getting drunk all in the trunk of some guy's car anyway. Quite frankly, Hazel didn't think songs should be like that. Instead, they should have meaning--like one of her themes.
Thinking of themes, Hazel thought about her renewal playlist at home, which she'd go and listen to if she felt out of balance. A whole lot of different songs were on there. The Killers, Cascada, Journey, All-American Rejects, Beyonce (Ha, which one of these is not like the other!)... And a couple more artists she couldn't remember. Those and along with drawings usually soothed Hazel.
Suddenly she really wanted to start talking again. Hazel's eyes started to bounce from object to object across the little ice cream shop (which reminded her, the bowl in front of her was now empty as well). Not a whole lot had changed in the past few minutes, or however long she'd been sitting there with Jack. One thing did catch her eye, whether it'd been there earlier or not: a poodle. Hazel could feel her eyes blink rapidly, thinking she must be imagining things. A poodle in an ice cream shop? First off, poodles shouldn't be eating ice cream, and two, why would it be necessary to bring a dog into a place for eating? Why would anyone at all? Hazel rose an eyebrow, questioning the movement.
"Odd," she mumbled without thinking. It wasn't like Hazel to state her jumped-to conclusions aloud. That was something people had a tendency to do. Maybe it was just Americans, she wasn't sure--but then shook off that theory when she remembered her Hispanic... Step-cousin, so to speak, being real snotty towards absurdities. Really, after watching the harsh discipline her cousin got, that was pretty much all the influence Hazel needed to separate herself from her extended family.
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Re: Sprinkles & Spoons
by Mordor 4/20/2010, 9:05 pm
Jack Freed
|19|Black hair, blue eyes|Enjoys music, desserts, and reading|
Jack felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Oh, right. He always turned his phone on vibrate, if he didn’t want it off, when he was going to Ben & Jerry’s. It seemed right to, besides, who would want to ruin their delicious moments of heaven with texting messaging. Or, ugh—calling, and actually talking to another person on the phone.
Since most people and those people’s voices annoyed him so much he lived by the rule of never under any circumstances call somebody you dislike. Or hate, which in that case was commonly the case. He preferred texting simply because calling was for the twentieth century. And why would you want to put what man has worked so hard to produce to waste? And the use of smiley faces helped to sort out all your emotions and the sound of your voice. So it was much easier to text.
Jack slid the iPhone out of his pocket, “Hang on a sec,” he told Hazel. It was quiet rude to ignore someone and text another body instead, but he politely excused himself for the conversation for a few seconds.
Ah, Jack glided through the long message. It was from iTunes—reminding him to pick up a special gift card and get discounts off Nickleback, Jem, Ke$ha, and other famous artist. He frowned and deleted it. The first two were fine, they had some decent songs, however female artist as the third were inappropriate for his own ears. A sad day when most music is trash, he thought.
Jack quickly put it back in his pocket and nodded to her previous statement. “You work there,” and he smiled dryly, also saying, “I like Borders. It’s better than other bookstores. And I’ve also heard some pretty good music playing in there. Have you ever decided the soundtrack?”
If Hazel did, then she had awesome taste in music. If not, then she must anyway because she works at Borders. Jack looked at her curiously, wondering whether or not she was truly paying attention; he seen her eyes avert to the lady with the poodle.
Again with the poodle, he thought distastefully, in an ice cream place. It simply made no sense whatsoever. And as his friend would say; that lady deserves to be shot in the face with a BB gun twice, and then some. Jack really thought that was a little harsh, however it did fit this situation nicely.
“Oh, her,” Jack said, reading her expression carefully. “She comes in here all the time. Her poodle’s name is Cleopatra, and the poodle has rabies.” He nodded, completely serious; not sign of humor on his face nor hint of it in his voice.
|19|Black hair, blue eyes|Enjoys music, desserts, and reading|
Jack felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Oh, right. He always turned his phone on vibrate, if he didn’t want it off, when he was going to Ben & Jerry’s. It seemed right to, besides, who would want to ruin their delicious moments of heaven with texting messaging. Or, ugh—calling, and actually talking to another person on the phone.
Since most people and those people’s voices annoyed him so much he lived by the rule of never under any circumstances call somebody you dislike. Or hate, which in that case was commonly the case. He preferred texting simply because calling was for the twentieth century. And why would you want to put what man has worked so hard to produce to waste? And the use of smiley faces helped to sort out all your emotions and the sound of your voice. So it was much easier to text.
Jack slid the iPhone out of his pocket, “Hang on a sec,” he told Hazel. It was quiet rude to ignore someone and text another body instead, but he politely excused himself for the conversation for a few seconds.
Ah, Jack glided through the long message. It was from iTunes—reminding him to pick up a special gift card and get discounts off Nickleback, Jem, Ke$ha, and other famous artist. He frowned and deleted it. The first two were fine, they had some decent songs, however female artist as the third were inappropriate for his own ears. A sad day when most music is trash, he thought.
Jack quickly put it back in his pocket and nodded to her previous statement. “You work there,” and he smiled dryly, also saying, “I like Borders. It’s better than other bookstores. And I’ve also heard some pretty good music playing in there. Have you ever decided the soundtrack?”
If Hazel did, then she had awesome taste in music. If not, then she must anyway because she works at Borders. Jack looked at her curiously, wondering whether or not she was truly paying attention; he seen her eyes avert to the lady with the poodle.
Again with the poodle, he thought distastefully, in an ice cream place. It simply made no sense whatsoever. And as his friend would say; that lady deserves to be shot in the face with a BB gun twice, and then some. Jack really thought that was a little harsh, however it did fit this situation nicely.
“Oh, her,” Jack said, reading her expression carefully. “She comes in here all the time. Her poodle’s name is Cleopatra, and the poodle has rabies.” He nodded, completely serious; not sign of humor on his face nor hint of it in his voice.
out of character:
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Re: Sprinkles & Spoons
by Cyn431 4/21/2010, 10:46 pm
Hazel Calister
: 19 | short brunette hair, honey-golden eyes | likes drawing, ice cream and novels :
Hazel noted the phone, and understood the situation completely, so she nodded. It was common these days to be talking to someone when interrupted by a text. Far too common. Unlike most people, Hazel seldom used her cell phone. She figured if someone were just to text her, it wasn't really important. Someone would take the time to call her if it was significant. Even then Hazel did text every now and then.
While trying to scheme reasons for the poodle--blindness, taming--she kept a bit of attention towards Jack. Hazel heard the phrases work there, liking, better, good music and decided. She tried to make good responses. "Yeah, seriously. I've seen some that didn't have anything but dictionaries and a good chance of getting bronchitis." Hazel didn't find that a pleasing memory, like when she had to stay home for a weak after trying to find the word neodymium for a science project. It was the only place nearby her home in Millstadt that had books, other than her house, so it was kind of pathetic.
"The music's tolerable every day but Friday," Hazel replied with a shudder. A younger employee there, about fifteen with a valley girl style, insisted in playing all the trashiest music there was out there. Miley Cyrus, Black Eyed Peas, Britney Spears, Justin Bieber, name it and she's got it. That was not very healthy for Hazel's ears. "But I get the Sundays," she added with a grin, considering Jack's previous comment. So he liked those guys too. Thank goodness she wasn't the only one.
The final comments reached her ears, much clearer and fuller than the previous thoughts. Hazel's eyes widened, in concern and nearing disgust. "Rabies?" she echoed incredulously, averting her uneasy gaze to Jack. Her eyes asked for a bit of reassurance, that the ice cream was safe, and maybe a complaint on how the FDA can be so dumb, or anything of the like.
: 19 | short brunette hair, honey-golden eyes | likes drawing, ice cream and novels :
Hazel noted the phone, and understood the situation completely, so she nodded. It was common these days to be talking to someone when interrupted by a text. Far too common. Unlike most people, Hazel seldom used her cell phone. She figured if someone were just to text her, it wasn't really important. Someone would take the time to call her if it was significant. Even then Hazel did text every now and then.
While trying to scheme reasons for the poodle--blindness, taming--she kept a bit of attention towards Jack. Hazel heard the phrases work there, liking, better, good music and decided. She tried to make good responses. "Yeah, seriously. I've seen some that didn't have anything but dictionaries and a good chance of getting bronchitis." Hazel didn't find that a pleasing memory, like when she had to stay home for a weak after trying to find the word neodymium for a science project. It was the only place nearby her home in Millstadt that had books, other than her house, so it was kind of pathetic.
"The music's tolerable every day but Friday," Hazel replied with a shudder. A younger employee there, about fifteen with a valley girl style, insisted in playing all the trashiest music there was out there. Miley Cyrus, Black Eyed Peas, Britney Spears, Justin Bieber, name it and she's got it. That was not very healthy for Hazel's ears. "But I get the Sundays," she added with a grin, considering Jack's previous comment. So he liked those guys too. Thank goodness she wasn't the only one.
The final comments reached her ears, much clearer and fuller than the previous thoughts. Hazel's eyes widened, in concern and nearing disgust. "Rabies?" she echoed incredulously, averting her uneasy gaze to Jack. Her eyes asked for a bit of reassurance, that the ice cream was safe, and maybe a complaint on how the FDA can be so dumb, or anything of the like.
ooc: Whee...
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Re: Sprinkles & Spoons
by Mordor 4/27/2010, 12:10 am
Jack Freed
|19|Black hair, blue eyes|Enjoys music, desserts, and reading|
Jack snorted at her answer. Not because it was ludicrous or anything, just of how blunt she put it. And how truthful it was. “You’re telling me.”
He swiveled his view to the woman again, her poodle looked asleep now, however, looks can be deceiving. You know, as his psychotic mother always said. Then he realized that the owner of the dog, of . . . was that pink? Yes, the pink toy poodle on a studded gem stone leash could’ve really well been a emergency eye-sight dog. Jack wondered about the name for a few moments before looking at the eyes of the owner. No, she was not blind. Perhaps she was just strange, different.
“And that is why you never see me there on Fridays,” he chuckled. The music was completely terrible. Who the heck wanted to listen to the Jonas Brothers when you have things like Coldplay and an assortment of other bands that didn’t make your ears bleed.
“You bet rabies. And,” Jack continued matter-of-factly, “that pink poodle is approved by the AKC. However the FDA must have over looked that mutt.”
At the word mutt, the freak of a animal snapped up and started a high pitched squealing. Jack figured out that it was bark and grimaced. “I hate that stupid dog.”
|19|Black hair, blue eyes|Enjoys music, desserts, and reading|
Jack snorted at her answer. Not because it was ludicrous or anything, just of how blunt she put it. And how truthful it was. “You’re telling me.”
He swiveled his view to the woman again, her poodle looked asleep now, however, looks can be deceiving. You know, as his psychotic mother always said. Then he realized that the owner of the dog, of . . . was that pink? Yes, the pink toy poodle on a studded gem stone leash could’ve really well been a emergency eye-sight dog. Jack wondered about the name for a few moments before looking at the eyes of the owner. No, she was not blind. Perhaps she was just strange, different.
“And that is why you never see me there on Fridays,” he chuckled. The music was completely terrible. Who the heck wanted to listen to the Jonas Brothers when you have things like Coldplay and an assortment of other bands that didn’t make your ears bleed.
“You bet rabies. And,” Jack continued matter-of-factly, “that pink poodle is approved by the AKC. However the FDA must have over looked that mutt.”
At the word mutt, the freak of a animal snapped up and started a high pitched squealing. Jack figured out that it was bark and grimaced. “I hate that stupid dog.”
out of character: Sorry for this reply and how its so bad; I've been at the beach and what-not all day. And Starbucks xD
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Re: Sprinkles & Spoons
by Cyn431 4/27/2010, 11:03 pm
Hazel Calister
: 19 | short brunette hair, honey-golden eyes | likes drawing, ice cream and novels :
Hazel redirected her gaze to Jack, and curiosity began to glimmer in those honey-gold eyes. That had suggested he'd seen worse than what she'd described, and Hazel wasn't sure such was possible. Was it just bronchitis, then? Or maybe a heart attack? She didn't really want to think of the possibilities, so her mind returned to the poodle.
Thankfully, Jack had commented on the Fridays. Instantly Hazel clung onto that topic of conversation. 'Me either," she agreed, her voice smoother but shaky, like a laugh sent out before it was complete. Still Hazel shook her head, a few stray strands of brunette hair swaying side to side with the move. Somehow that landed one thread right in front of her face; Hazel brushed it away, seeming briefly irritated.
Then she heard two shocking words: approved and AKC. Hazel's disgusted stare glued right onto the toy poodle again. Jack made a comment about the FDA, and a sigh escaped from her lips. "The FDA's hopeless these days," she said. "Exhibit A being the poodle, exhibit B would have to be public schools..." Hazel trailed off. That was pretty much a welcome for Cleopatra to bark, startling the girl. A little yelp of surprise was just about ready to trill from her throat, and for half of a split second it did, but Hazel snapped her mouth shut the moment she heard it.
"How can't you?" she asked rhetorically, this time fully chuckling.
ooc: XD Don't worry, mine sucks too. I was trying to do homework at the same time... And plus it's kind of late and I'm hitting curfew at my house. Hopefully we can pick back up to our usual writing long thing next time we write or somethin'?: 19 | short brunette hair, honey-golden eyes | likes drawing, ice cream and novels :
Hazel redirected her gaze to Jack, and curiosity began to glimmer in those honey-gold eyes. That had suggested he'd seen worse than what she'd described, and Hazel wasn't sure such was possible. Was it just bronchitis, then? Or maybe a heart attack? She didn't really want to think of the possibilities, so her mind returned to the poodle.
Thankfully, Jack had commented on the Fridays. Instantly Hazel clung onto that topic of conversation. 'Me either," she agreed, her voice smoother but shaky, like a laugh sent out before it was complete. Still Hazel shook her head, a few stray strands of brunette hair swaying side to side with the move. Somehow that landed one thread right in front of her face; Hazel brushed it away, seeming briefly irritated.
Then she heard two shocking words: approved and AKC. Hazel's disgusted stare glued right onto the toy poodle again. Jack made a comment about the FDA, and a sigh escaped from her lips. "The FDA's hopeless these days," she said. "Exhibit A being the poodle, exhibit B would have to be public schools..." Hazel trailed off. That was pretty much a welcome for Cleopatra to bark, startling the girl. A little yelp of surprise was just about ready to trill from her throat, and for half of a split second it did, but Hazel snapped her mouth shut the moment she heard it.
"How can't you?" she asked rhetorically, this time fully chuckling.
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Re: Sprinkles & Spoons
by Mordor 5/9/2010, 12:41 am
Jack Freed
|19|Black hair, blue eyes|Enjoys music, desserts, and reading|
“The FDA is terrible,” Jack agreed, smirking. “And public schools? When I went to high school . . . well, let’s just say it was disturbing.” Childhood memories of elementary school and middle school came back to him. Elementary school wasn’t that bad; a relatively new building with decent food. However, unlike the previous place, the junior high he had went to was old, run-down, and the lunches were so disgusting everyone had brought their own. High school was just as bad, if not much, much worse.
“Where did you go to school?” He ignored the incredibly dramatic poodle, slightly tilting is head so he wouldn’t have to look at the pink monster’s terrible reflection in the window. “Like, did you go local or out of town?”
As far as Jack knew, there was one elementary school down the road, across from a huge corn field. About five or six miles from the Ben & Jerry’s there was a middle school and a high school right across from it. Another elementary and a high school were to be found thirty or so miles out of town.
Westing High, obviously the high school he had went to was across from the middle school.
|19|Black hair, blue eyes|Enjoys music, desserts, and reading|
“The FDA is terrible,” Jack agreed, smirking. “And public schools? When I went to high school . . . well, let’s just say it was disturbing.” Childhood memories of elementary school and middle school came back to him. Elementary school wasn’t that bad; a relatively new building with decent food. However, unlike the previous place, the junior high he had went to was old, run-down, and the lunches were so disgusting everyone had brought their own. High school was just as bad, if not much, much worse.
“Where did you go to school?” He ignored the incredibly dramatic poodle, slightly tilting is head so he wouldn’t have to look at the pink monster’s terrible reflection in the window. “Like, did you go local or out of town?”
As far as Jack knew, there was one elementary school down the road, across from a huge corn field. About five or six miles from the Ben & Jerry’s there was a middle school and a high school right across from it. Another elementary and a high school were to be found thirty or so miles out of town.
Westing High, obviously the high school he had went to was across from the middle school.
out of character: Yeah.
Sorry, this too is like, total crap. My dad hates Twig, so I'm not aloud on it anymore. Same thing happened to WI. x_x I'm a terrible daughter! D:
xDD
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Re: Sprinkles & Spoons
by Cyn431 5/9/2010, 5:36 pm
Hazel Calister
: 19 | short brunette hair, honey-golden eyes | likes drawing, ice cream and novels :
Hazel lifted her gaze back up to Jack, and rose an eyebrow with a smile. "Understatement, much?" she assumed based off of previous experiences. Along with the cities themselves, none of her schools as a kid were all that delightful.
All the thoughts she had pretty much answered Jack's question. "It really depended on where I was living at the time," Hazel introduced her explanation, which could potentially become massive. She pulled out her fingers to list off the different towns and cities. "For Millstadt it was out of state, Los Angeles just down the street, Quebec a short bus ride, and my previous home a city or two down the highway had it... Well, somewhat local. The high school second closest to here is nearer to the last city I lived in than here, if that makes sense." Hazel didn't think Jack was ready to hear her life story or anything, so she left it short and sweet unless he chose to ask questions. Then he'd just have to be prepared.
Regardless, she couldn't help thinking about it. By out of state, Hazel meant she had to walk a quarter of a mile down the dirt roads of Millstadt to a bus stop, which went over the Martin Luther King bridge to St. Louis, and then it took another forty-five minutes to get away from the low-quality city schools to the much greater county schools. Sure it was a relief the first few days in Los Angeles, but when Hazel discovered the stupidity of most of the students... Well, it wasn't fun being called a super-nerd. There was great education in Quebec--if you could speak French. Finally Hazel was able to get something worth the seven hours in her last move before the one that had her sitting right there in Ben & Jerry's.
She flipped back through those memories, and began thinking Jack probably wouldn't want to hear about all that whether he knew it or not. So Hazel went ahead to try and save him from annoyance by asking in return, "Did you go to school around here, or were you hopping from place to place like I was?"
ooc: Oh noez! D: Why would your dad hate either of those sites? (Well, I might know why he'd hate WI, but I don't know why he'd think the same way we do. xD) And on the contrary, whether you're a terrible daughter or not, I praise you for being a rebel and getting on here anyway. : 19 | short brunette hair, honey-golden eyes | likes drawing, ice cream and novels :
Hazel lifted her gaze back up to Jack, and rose an eyebrow with a smile. "Understatement, much?" she assumed based off of previous experiences. Along with the cities themselves, none of her schools as a kid were all that delightful.
All the thoughts she had pretty much answered Jack's question. "It really depended on where I was living at the time," Hazel introduced her explanation, which could potentially become massive. She pulled out her fingers to list off the different towns and cities. "For Millstadt it was out of state, Los Angeles just down the street, Quebec a short bus ride, and my previous home a city or two down the highway had it... Well, somewhat local. The high school second closest to here is nearer to the last city I lived in than here, if that makes sense." Hazel didn't think Jack was ready to hear her life story or anything, so she left it short and sweet unless he chose to ask questions. Then he'd just have to be prepared.
Regardless, she couldn't help thinking about it. By out of state, Hazel meant she had to walk a quarter of a mile down the dirt roads of Millstadt to a bus stop, which went over the Martin Luther King bridge to St. Louis, and then it took another forty-five minutes to get away from the low-quality city schools to the much greater county schools. Sure it was a relief the first few days in Los Angeles, but when Hazel discovered the stupidity of most of the students... Well, it wasn't fun being called a super-nerd. There was great education in Quebec--if you could speak French. Finally Hazel was able to get something worth the seven hours in her last move before the one that had her sitting right there in Ben & Jerry's.
She flipped back through those memories, and began thinking Jack probably wouldn't want to hear about all that whether he knew it or not. So Hazel went ahead to try and save him from annoyance by asking in return, "Did you go to school around here, or were you hopping from place to place like I was?"
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Re: Sprinkles & Spoons
by Mordor 5/12/2010, 7:25 pm
Jack Freed
|19|Black hair, blue eyes|Enjoys music, desserts, and reading|
He returned Hazel’s gaze warily, “Quite.” Jack interlaced his fingers, leaning his chin against his propped up hands as he often did when in thought.
She gets around, Jack thought, reflecting all the places he had been. “Local, more or less,” he started to reply, carefully thinking out his statement. “My mother liked to play musical move; we moved around the country when I was little, and she finally relented when I started high school. First it was New York, then Washington D. C., Harrisburg, Richmond, Augusta. She put me in elementary school in every one of those states and through out all the moving I only made it to third grade before we moved back here. I really should’ve been in fourth by then…Anyway, then when I went to sixth grade we went to Miami, Lake Charles, Louisiana, Savannah, Georgia, Santa Fe, back home, Texas. Jeez, you name it we’ve been there. Eventually we ended here and I started Westington.”
He cleared his throat after all that talking, chuckling after he realized he had named nine states; he had lived in twenty, and been to nearly all of them. Except, of course, Hawaii and Alaska and he had never been to Idaho. According to his late mother Idaho was filled with potato farmers, and she hated potatoes.
|19|Black hair, blue eyes|Enjoys music, desserts, and reading|
He returned Hazel’s gaze warily, “Quite.” Jack interlaced his fingers, leaning his chin against his propped up hands as he often did when in thought.
She gets around, Jack thought, reflecting all the places he had been. “Local, more or less,” he started to reply, carefully thinking out his statement. “My mother liked to play musical move; we moved around the country when I was little, and she finally relented when I started high school. First it was New York, then Washington D. C., Harrisburg, Richmond, Augusta. She put me in elementary school in every one of those states and through out all the moving I only made it to third grade before we moved back here. I really should’ve been in fourth by then…Anyway, then when I went to sixth grade we went to Miami, Lake Charles, Louisiana, Savannah, Georgia, Santa Fe, back home, Texas. Jeez, you name it we’ve been there. Eventually we ended here and I started Westington.”
He cleared his throat after all that talking, chuckling after he realized he had named nine states; he had lived in twenty, and been to nearly all of them. Except, of course, Hawaii and Alaska and he had never been to Idaho. According to his late mother Idaho was filled with potato farmers, and she hated potatoes.
out of character: Meh! I dunno why.
Aw, thanks Cyn ^^’ I’ve been ground for getting on Twig thrice already; he’s found me out three times, and it was a close shave last time or it would’ve been a fourth.
That’s why I get on Twig so sporadically…I get on to answer RPs, get off, then I delete the history. xDD
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Re: Sprinkles & Spoons
by Cyn431 5/13/2010, 5:29 pm
Hazel Calister
: 19 | short brunette hair, honey-gold eyes | likes drawing, ice cream and novels :
Musical move, the words repeated back to Hazel in her mind. That seemed witty. She listened intently to the several locations Jack listed off, catching all of those she could locate and forgetting those she couldn't (Lake Charles and Harrisburg). Hazel's eyes lit up as the numbers increased, and by the time she'd finished counting there were somewhere around ten locations, excluding repeats. "And I thought I'd moved around!" Hazel remarked. "That must have been rough, living in about five different states before you were even ten."
For a moment of curiosity she did the math of her own moves. In the past nineteen years she'd gone to six different towns and cities. He'd beaten that before he was twelve. She figured that must have been really tough. It was probably even harder to keep his friends than to keep hers. That is, assuming Jack had the opportunity to make some friends at each move. Hazel didn't really make friends in Quebec or L.A. In addition, although she lived in Millstadt for a little less than half her life, she didn't really interact with anyone there; all of Hazel's friends lived in St. Louis then.
"Out of country, too?" she asked without her mind's approval. He'd said, essentially, "Name it, been there." A second later Hazel came close to regretting her speech. Then she considered her worries about the throat-clearing just a sign of one of her overreactions, and let it slide. Sometimes Hazel had concerns about too many things, most of which would be insignificant to others.
: 19 | short brunette hair, honey-gold eyes | likes drawing, ice cream and novels :
Musical move, the words repeated back to Hazel in her mind. That seemed witty. She listened intently to the several locations Jack listed off, catching all of those she could locate and forgetting those she couldn't (Lake Charles and Harrisburg). Hazel's eyes lit up as the numbers increased, and by the time she'd finished counting there were somewhere around ten locations, excluding repeats. "And I thought I'd moved around!" Hazel remarked. "That must have been rough, living in about five different states before you were even ten."
For a moment of curiosity she did the math of her own moves. In the past nineteen years she'd gone to six different towns and cities. He'd beaten that before he was twelve. She figured that must have been really tough. It was probably even harder to keep his friends than to keep hers. That is, assuming Jack had the opportunity to make some friends at each move. Hazel didn't really make friends in Quebec or L.A. In addition, although she lived in Millstadt for a little less than half her life, she didn't really interact with anyone there; all of Hazel's friends lived in St. Louis then.
"Out of country, too?" she asked without her mind's approval. He'd said, essentially, "Name it, been there." A second later Hazel came close to regretting her speech. Then she considered her worries about the throat-clearing just a sign of one of her overreactions, and let it slide. Sometimes Hazel had concerns about too many things, most of which would be insignificant to others.
ooc: You're quite welcome!
Ouch. o.e Well, deleting your history is a step in the right direction at least. Say, are you doing this stuff on a desktop/computer, iTouch or something else? 'Cause I might be able to add a bit of assistance if you're using a Touch...
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Re: Sprinkles & Spoons
by Mordor 5/16/2010, 9:07 pm
Jack Freed
|19|Black hair, blue eyes|Enjoys music, desserts, and reading|
Jack silently recalled all the horrible memories of Junior High. He had been the farthest thing from ‘popular’. More or less, everyone treated the new kid like toxic waste, even the stupid kids that thought you could get super powers from swimming in toxic waste stayed away from it.
“Yeah,” Jack said, smiling slightly. “My mom dated a guy from London and we moved there, but he hated me so it didn’t last long. She also dragged me to Australia, for a job, and Norway because she said people who live there are thin.”
He counted ten states and four countries, but, he had also lived in Washington, Olympia and Topeka, Kansas. Jack had also lived in Puerto Rico; his mother loved beaches, even though she got sea sick every time she stepped foot on a boat.
|19|Black hair, blue eyes|Enjoys music, desserts, and reading|
Jack silently recalled all the horrible memories of Junior High. He had been the farthest thing from ‘popular’. More or less, everyone treated the new kid like toxic waste, even the stupid kids that thought you could get super powers from swimming in toxic waste stayed away from it.
“Yeah,” Jack said, smiling slightly. “My mom dated a guy from London and we moved there, but he hated me so it didn’t last long. She also dragged me to Australia, for a job, and Norway because she said people who live there are thin.”
He counted ten states and four countries, but, he had also lived in Washington, Olympia and Topeka, Kansas. Jack had also lived in Puerto Rico; his mother loved beaches, even though she got sea sick every time she stepped foot on a boat.
out of character: I'm on a labtop
words: 137
outfit jeans, dark green shirt, black jacket, black and red converse
Mordor- Novel Creator
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Join date : 2010-02-23
Re: Sprinkles & Spoons
by LuvPink 5/17/2010, 6:01 pm
[Wow. I was just looking through the PRP section and I saw your's. This is probably the best writing I've seen here. Both of you are so tremendously talented and I'd just like to let you guys know. I love your format and plot too. Also, the title is very unique. Anyway, keep up the good work, That's just impressive.]
LuvPink- Novella Composer
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Re: Sprinkles & Spoons
by Cyn431 5/17/2010, 10:56 pm
Hazel Calister
: 19 | short brunette hair, honey-gold eyes | likes drawing, ice cream and novels :
When Hazel heard the approval, she became interested, so much in fact she found herself leaning forward a little bit. As he talked, her eyebrow rose in question. Hazel had definitely heard stupider, but when she heard the part about Norway, she knew at that moment she really had heard it all. Really, who out of school was that childish?
"Wow," Hazel exhaled in amazement. "Did you ever get tired of having to move, say, every ten weeks?" she asked, obvious exaggeration in her question which she chuckled upon. "And where'd she hear about Norway, from Wikipedia?" A few childhood memories came back to her about some interesting scenarios involving Wikipedia, particularly things other kids did that got them a slot in jail. It was interesting what a website alone could do.
The first memory had to do with some anime. A few kids thought it would be funny to recreate the subject of the show into reality--a killer notebook--and when names were found written inside, the little group got behind bars. Last she heard, they didn't come back out, or at least as planned. Another memory had to do with Ramadan. A few Muslims went to her school in Quebec, and they thought there was some tradition that Muslims put graffiti on all Christian buildings to show war or something. That led to arrests as well. Although, just a few weeks after, the vice versa occurred. And there were a few other stories she could tell, too, but that was all she remembered.
ooc: Ooh, laptops. Darn, can't help ya much. xP All I can say is you might want to surf through some extra allowed websites to make sure he dun get suspicious. 'Cause every time he sees cleared history, he might get curious.: 19 | short brunette hair, honey-gold eyes | likes drawing, ice cream and novels :
When Hazel heard the approval, she became interested, so much in fact she found herself leaning forward a little bit. As he talked, her eyebrow rose in question. Hazel had definitely heard stupider, but when she heard the part about Norway, she knew at that moment she really had heard it all. Really, who out of school was that childish?
"Wow," Hazel exhaled in amazement. "Did you ever get tired of having to move, say, every ten weeks?" she asked, obvious exaggeration in her question which she chuckled upon. "And where'd she hear about Norway, from Wikipedia?" A few childhood memories came back to her about some interesting scenarios involving Wikipedia, particularly things other kids did that got them a slot in jail. It was interesting what a website alone could do.
The first memory had to do with some anime. A few kids thought it would be funny to recreate the subject of the show into reality--a killer notebook--and when names were found written inside, the little group got behind bars. Last she heard, they didn't come back out, or at least as planned. Another memory had to do with Ramadan. A few Muslims went to her school in Quebec, and they thought there was some tradition that Muslims put graffiti on all Christian buildings to show war or something. That led to arrests as well. Although, just a few weeks after, the vice versa occurred. And there were a few other stories she could tell, too, but that was all she remembered.
And thank you, Ash.
word: 254
outfit: Black skinny jeans, dark green converse with cyan shoelaces, pale sky blue t-shirt, cotton black jacket.
Cyn431- Best-Selling Author
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Age : 27
Re: Sprinkles & Spoons
by Mordor 5/19/2010, 2:07 am
Jack Freed
|19|Black hair, blue eyes|Enjoys music, desserts, and reading|
Jack sighed after he had finished, realizing who extremely ridiculous that had sounded. The truth was absurd sometimes, however, his it wasn’t just the truth in this case, it was his mother’s mindset and, really, in general: her complete brain. He didn’t mean to bash his mother, simply the fact alone that she could have been off her rocker sometimes.
Hazel’s suggestion at Wiki almost made him raise an eyebrow. Almost. “I’ve heard things about Wiki. But, no, she’s lived off rumor and gossip. She thought everything that is on the internet is crap.”
Though, in Jack’s opinion, the internet was a creative masterpiece, that was, as his mother always, always said: the best thing since sliced bread.
|19|Black hair, blue eyes|Enjoys music, desserts, and reading|
Jack sighed after he had finished, realizing who extremely ridiculous that had sounded. The truth was absurd sometimes, however, his it wasn’t just the truth in this case, it was his mother’s mindset and, really, in general: her complete brain. He didn’t mean to bash his mother, simply the fact alone that she could have been off her rocker sometimes.
Hazel’s suggestion at Wiki almost made him raise an eyebrow. Almost. “I’ve heard things about Wiki. But, no, she’s lived off rumor and gossip. She thought everything that is on the internet is crap.”
Though, in Jack’s opinion, the internet was a creative masterpiece, that was, as his mother always, always said: the best thing since sliced bread.
out of character: xP
Yeah, I go to deviantART, and a few pictures makes alotta memory xD
words: 118
outfit jeans, dark green shirt, black jacket, black and red converse
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Re: Sprinkles & Spoons
by Cyn431 5/21/2010, 9:47 pm
Hazel Calister
: 19 | short brunette hair, honey-gold eyes | likes drawing, ice cream and novels :
Hazel listened to what Jack said, and that got her gears working. Something about that just didn't seem right. "The internet's the only source of gossip anymore these days," she said softly, almost in a mumble. She didn't appear to have noticed she'd spoken. Hazel hadn't intended to either. Her voice lowered. "And even if she doesn't get it off the internet, she's getting it from those who made it 'crap'."
This time she was aware, and glanced up from her long neglected spoon to Jack. A bit of worry lingered in her irises. "I didn't mean to say that aloud," Hazel nearly stammered. "I didn't offend you, did I?" She could feel her cheeks warming up from embarrassment. She'd been doing so good at keeping normal; it was about time she screwed up. With that heat, Hazel smiled innocently. Maybe it wasn't quite innocently, actually, but more like she was about to laugh at herself. Sometimes she did that if she'd made a fool of herself. No, not sometimes, almost all the time, just to stow away the scene.
ooc: Ah, deviantART... I don't know a lot about it, other than people put art up there and it's a popular site and stuff. xD: 19 | short brunette hair, honey-gold eyes | likes drawing, ice cream and novels :
Hazel listened to what Jack said, and that got her gears working. Something about that just didn't seem right. "The internet's the only source of gossip anymore these days," she said softly, almost in a mumble. She didn't appear to have noticed she'd spoken. Hazel hadn't intended to either. Her voice lowered. "And even if she doesn't get it off the internet, she's getting it from those who made it 'crap'."
This time she was aware, and glanced up from her long neglected spoon to Jack. A bit of worry lingered in her irises. "I didn't mean to say that aloud," Hazel nearly stammered. "I didn't offend you, did I?" She could feel her cheeks warming up from embarrassment. She'd been doing so good at keeping normal; it was about time she screwed up. With that heat, Hazel smiled innocently. Maybe it wasn't quite innocently, actually, but more like she was about to laugh at herself. Sometimes she did that if she'd made a fool of herself. No, not sometimes, almost all the time, just to stow away the scene.
word: 180
outfit: Black skinny jeans, dark green converse with cyan shoelaces, pale sky blue t-shirt, cotton black jacket.
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Similar topics» RACE AGAINST MACHINES (JUNE SIXTH TWO THOUSAND TEN) --- Spoons?
» dear ave, count me in - dear child, I'm here to inquire about your spoons.
» dear ave, count me in - dear child, I'm here to inquire about your spoons.
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