literature

RolePlay w/ Muffin post one

Deviation Actions

Published: Aug 5, 2015

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Literature Text

_{Muffin wrote:
The ground was hard, Archer reflected, laying with his face planted in the dirt. He was lucky the thing hadn't chosen the pavement to dump him on though, because that would have been much more painful then it already was.

"Aww, not again," A familiar voice droned somewhere in front of him. Mathew. He was always ahead, in the lead.

Archer picked himself up, kneeling beside the upturned skateboard. There were bit of gravely soil in his mouth from his fall, but he was used to that by then, and only spat out the little he could.

"Come on, just try one more time?" His friends voice was turning into more of a plea now, almost as if he felt bad for making Archer do it, but still not wanting to accept reality.

"Sorry, I can't. I've got home work, and... other stuff to do at home," Archer himself felt a little guilty for making obvious excuses to get away, but it was true. He did have things he had to get done, and it wasn't his fault he kept falling off the stupid board his friend insisted he give a go at riding every time after school. Archer had 'given it a go' willingly at first, if only to make Mathew happy and stop pestering him about it. But after the last three or four days, he was really starting to get over the whole idea. He just couldn't seem to balance properly, and no matter how much encouragement he had received from his skate enthusiast pal, it wasn't working. He must have ended up sprawled onto his face at least ten times by now.

"What, like hanging out the washing?" Mathew teased from his position with one foot rested on his own board.

"Something like that," Archer again unsuccessfully tried to dodge any straight out questions, glancing away when a shops door bell rang across the street.

"Ok, fine. Tomorrow then?" Mathew admitted defeat with a sigh, as if he knew what the answer would be.

Another pang of regret caused Archer to hesitate. He hated letting people down, having been disappointed enough in his own life. "Maybe. I'll see you tomorrow, anyway." He knew that was as good as a 'no', but he couldn't bring himself to say it so bluntly.

" 'Kay, see ya!" Mathew gave him a salute, then turned and started zooming off in the direction of his own place.

Archer returned the favour with a small smile, and stayed in his kneeling stance for a moment longer before rising properly to his feet. Upon a brief examination, he found himself to only have some mud staining his shirt, grazed hands, and a smear of dirt on his face. It wouldn't all come off when he tried rubbing it with his palm though- which was feeling rather stiff by this point-, so he left it. A cloth would do the job when he got home.

Speaking of which, he was running late by this stage, and would have to hurry up if he were to get back any time soon.
Archer glanced at his old, worn skateboard, and decided then and there to leave it. There was a perfect bush a few feet away for it to live in until someone else found it, and at least tomorrow he could say he no longer had the thing. That way he'd save his poor body from any more bruises and scratches that he knew he was sure to acquire if he continued on this way.

Before carefully placing it under the shrubbery, the boy glanced back. Good, no one was looking. That could be awkward. Then he tucked it under, end poking out slightly, and started a brisk pace in the opposite direction his friend had gone in.
____

I wrote:
9:00 am. Another night spent in a hotel room. Another night away from home. Another night away from her best friend. Sure, emancipation was her best bet for escaping the life she lived, but Norah missed going to school every day and seeing the people who cared about her. Born in San Diego, Norah was most definitely a California girl with her long legs, slightly tanned skin, and love for surfing. However, San Diego was far away at this point.
At this point in time, Norah found herself in the middle of Seattle, a beautiful city that lit up at night with bright, vibrant lights. Her trek to Seattle was a mixture of pleasant and unpleasant for a few reasons that pushed her back a few hours each time, whether it had been a flat tire or being pulled over by a state cop. The worst of them, however, was avoiding traveling hunters.
As she let herself out of her hotel room, she looked around the parking lot. There weren’t many people around, so it was probably safe – however, you could never be too sure in an unknown place. Her thin form shuffled into the alley beside the older building, crouching beside a green dumpster. She removed her clothing, carefully folding it up underneath a wooden stand. When she emerged, she was no longer in her clumsier human form, but rather in the form of a malinois. The area was unknown to the brunette, so she decided to do a quick run through.
As she trotted around, people stuck out their hands for her to sniff. Dirty fingers landed on her back and head, giving her the feeling of greasy hair, or even sand in the hair. To her, it was completely uncomfortable, but how would they know? They were just lousy, good for nothing humans. Then again, who was she to judge? After all, she had a human form, which was close enough, right?
The brunette had always been a skinwalker. From birth, she could turn into the brown-eyed, dark-furred dog. Both of her forms, human and canine, grew older. From infant to toddler, from puppy to dog, each form grew hand in hand. Her parents kept her home schooled for most of her life to avoid an accidental shift in public. Though, being a skinwalker could not keep the girl from going out in public. To keep herself from accidentally shifting, she wore a bracelet with a small, silver charm in the shape of a paw print on her left wrist. The silver kept her ability to shift under lockdown, allowing her to go out and interact with the other children on her block.
Life at home for Norah was always a bit difficult. Her father, Sean, was a raging alcoholic who showed no mercy on his children. He’d come home after a long day at work and sit on the couch with a couple of six packs. Amelia, Norah’s mother, died while giving birth to her. Norah was primarily the target for all of Sean’s anger and energy, as she was to blame for her mother’s death. At least that’s how it was in her father’s eyes.
Lydia and Emmerson, her two older siblings, usually got out of the house before their father arrived at home. They’d either go for long walks, or sit out in the tree house until their dad had gone to sleep. They did little to nothing to help their younger sister, fueling the hatred Norah felt for her family.
After about an hour of exploring, Norah trotted back to the small space behind the dumpster and shifted back into the brown eyed girl once more and covered her bare skin with the clothes she had put aside. Once inside, she slid her phone and room key into her pocket, then exited the room again. This time around, Norah wanted to explore the area on two feet, see the place in color.
As she walked down the sidewalk of a smaller neighborhood, she felt her phone buzz. It was a text from her best friend, questioning her current whereabouts.
Maisie:
Where r u at? I miss u, loser! Call me later, bby.
Norah:
Right now I’m in Seattle. It’s beautiful here, M. Miss you too, and you’ll have to come visit me sometime. Xo
As she slid the device back into her pocket, her thin frame collided with another’s. A soft grunt escaped the brunette’s parted lips as her head ran into the figure’s chest. She took in a deep breath through her nose, and all of her internal warning signals went off. She looked up at the figure, her gaze skimming over his face. He smelled like danger. Bad, stay away. Run. Attack. He was bad, and she should stay away.
Sometimes, Norah was lucky to have the strong sense of smell. She appreciated the ability, especially since the internal warning came with it. “S-sorry,” she muttered, lowering her chocolate brown gaze.
Why wasn't she running?}