Corvin James's Story

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#2012-10-26 01:26:48, as written by Caledonia

Who is Gambit?

She stared up at the sign that hung over the entrance to the bar, her pale, thin brow knit together over a pair of light brown eyes. Sporting a plain grey hoodie and jeans, the young woman thoughtfully frowned as her mind took her to a train of thought most people wouldn't normally focus on. Who was Gambit? Did he come around often? How long had he run this establishment and why did it look so fortified?

She reached to open the door, pushing it inside, and found the place bustling with activity.

These people...how curious.

This doesn't look like the place Xander described. She thought idly as she pushed her way inside, allowing the door to close behind her. Normal. She looked normal.

Aside from the fact that she was bald, but what could you do?

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#2012-10-26 01:33:01, as written by Caledonia

Corvin's attention turned to Sirad.

"Do you normally talk like that to people you don't know?" she questioned, taking a few steps forward and slipping her hands into the pockets of her jeans. She tilted her head curiously to one side, that same, thoughtful furrow coming to her brow.

"You're here, after all. Does that mean you're also retarded?"

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#2012-10-26 01:40:41, as written by Caledonia

She turned to Momiji, looking a little confused, before she turned back to watch Sirad. Her eyes widened, and she took a step back as the other woman promptly appeared, much closer to Corvin than she was just a few seconds ago.

How does she move so fast?

"I'm not sure what wolves have to do with being retarded." she said, her lips pulling into a frown. The conversation confused her more than she liked, and it only occured to her belatedly that the person might be expressing some kind of a euphemism.

"Uh, so.." A hand went to the base of her neck, her smile just a little nervous. "Are those song lyrics? Or..."

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#2012-10-26 01:48:30, as written by Caledonia

"I wouldn't call them retards, per se. More like optimists." She stuck a thumb against her chest. "Like me, but consider me educated now. I'm still missing the reason why you asked me about wolves."

Momiji distracted her again. She was so easily distracted these days. The woman took a step back, to put more space between her and the other, strange character, and shifted to cross her arms over her chest. Didn't people usually come to bars to drink?

She hadn't heard the word 'retard' so many times in one day, much less her life.

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#2012-10-26 01:56:01, as written by Caledonia

She found herself suddenly without company, and, grateful for the reprieve, straightened her jacket and turned to walk out the door.

What a curious first experience, but one could be certain that she'd be back for more, possibly sooner than anyone might expect.

The setting changes from gambits-bar to Wing City Gardens (North)

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#2012-10-26 02:33:28, as written by Caledonia

In the last few days that she'd spent wandering around this city of a horrendously intimidating size, she'd stumbled across a rather iconic location that was more or less in the center of everything. The garden appealed to her not only because it was a place set aside from the regular hustle and bustle, but also, it struck her as an ideal place to set up her easel and work with her pastels. Painting, like so many other Renaissance activities, was a passion of hers, and there was very little that she enjoyed more.

So she sat on a bench, the stand on its lowest setting, as she peered over the top of her canvas towards the topiaries. It was beautiful.

With a grin, she took up her pencil and began to idly sketch.

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#2012-10-26 02:44:08, as written by Caledonia

The mindset she often entered when she painted was one that often ignored outside influence. Her focus was intense, almost obsessive when she really got into the mood. Today, however, with all of the new things that surrounded her, she was as easily distracted as a child who didn't know which toy to play with.

So when her 'zone' was encroached upon by a rather imposing figure in half-soaked fatigues, she couldn't help but lift her head away from her work, looking sideways at the man before she set her pencil down, and placed her hands on her knees.

"Do people normally dress so warmly for exercise around here?" she asked, her honey-brown eyes scrutinizing Patchi. Her tone was not mocking, nor was it intended to come across that way.

"You seem very prepared."

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#2012-10-26 02:52:59, as written by Caledonia

Perhaps Patchi wasn't caught off guard, but Corvin certainly was. Resisting the urge to run her hand over the top of her closely shaved scalp, she glanced back to the idle sketch marks on her canvas, before looking back to Patchi. His rigid stance struck her with the sudden urge to stand herself. She was not a very tall figure, and beneath the loose-fitting clothes, she was of no significant weight either. Sitting down next to him was like kneeling next to a rather large boulder.

So she scooted the easel to the side and did just that, her hands slipping into her pockets.

"I have a hood." she told him with a nod. In the back of her mind, she wondered if he was being genuine about his concern. Probably not, but hey, at least he hadn't insulted her. She could certainly live with being called pretty.

Sticking out her hand, she said, "I'm Corvin."

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#2012-10-26 03:00:50, as written by Caledonia

The handshake felt like more of a flop of the fingers against her hand, but she let it slide, glancing to the canvas before gesturing to it. "I was going to paint. I found this place a little while ago and its been naggling at me ever since." She pursed her lips thoughtfully.

"Are there bears out here?" It wouldn't surprise her. She'd seen some pretty weird stuff back in the bar, and if that was what was allowed to come into public places...

Her eyes slipped down to his hands. To the gloves, specifically.

"Seriously though, what's with all the gear?"

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#2012-10-26 03:08:01, as written by Caledonia

"If you want." She gestured to the lines, the vague imaging that was meant to depict the scene before them. It lacked true shape, because the colors would have to fill in the blank spaces, but for the moment, it hinted at at least a mild creative talent.

"I rode my bike here too." she noted absent-mindedly, critically going over the details of the painting-in-progress as she spoke.

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#2012-10-26 03:15:32, as written by Caledonia

"I have a Huffy!" she replied, crossing her arms over her chest and giving him an amused smirk. She wasn't trying to be clever, either. The only bike she'd ever ridden was one that she pumped with two legs.

"Why was it in the shop in the first place?" She wouldn't be surprised if he'd broken it with the weight of himself. He'd nearly torn the water fountain off of its hinges by simply leaning against it.

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#2012-10-26 03:22:43, as written by Caledonia

"The one and only." she replied with a grin to match his. Of course, she didn't know if he was making fun of her, or genuinely amused at the thought of her riding around on a peddling bike. "Though, the idea that only kids can ride those bikes is ridiculous." She glanced towards the street, where the bike in question was chained to a light pole.

"Very helpful, and I don't have to pay for gas."

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#2012-10-26 03:27:29, as written by Caledonia

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, a stretch of silence filled up the space between them. Then, she laughed, and it was a merry one, at that.

"Oh, hah! Wow. Nobody's ever been that forward about it before." Her eyes glowed with mirth, one hand coming up to rest against the side of her face as she gazed up at Patchi with a fondness that was almost motherly in its warmth.

"I'm bald because chemotherapy is not kind to a full head of hair."

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#2012-10-26 03:32:08, as written by Caledonia

Her head tilted to one side. It was like the man had never seen a cancer patient before.

Knitting her brow, her lips pursed as she pondered just how to answer his question. "Yes. It's working. Not as fast as my doctors hope, but I'll take what I can get." Straightening her posture, she relaxed back into an easy, amiable smile.

"Have you ever known someone to have cancer, Patchi? It's not as uncommon as some people think."

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#2012-10-26 03:37:26, as written by Caledonia

She laughed again. Not at him, of course. Though, his flustered behavior was amusing.

"Don't worry about it. It isn't something I'm ashamed of." She sat down on the bench, and invited him to sit down next to her. "So, are you a soldier? Or do you just wear the fatigues for the sake of getting really sweaty when you go for a jog?"

She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes, pulling her legs up underneath her so she could sit cross-legged.

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#2012-10-26 03:43:34, as written by Caledonia

"Oh."

Thoughtfully, she turned back to the canvas, a soft sigh escaping her as she leaned forward to prop her chin in her hand. How did one become an ex soldier? Was it by choice? Did someone make him leave?

"Did you like being a soldier?" she asked him curiously. She thought about asking why he wasn't one now, but it didn't seem appropriate.

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#2012-10-26 03:48:46, as written by Caledonia

"So why leave?"

It was the flow of the conversation, she told herself. Even if it was prying, even if she wouldn't normally ask someone else the same question, she felt like she wanted to ask Patchi. He'd asked about her baldness, after all. This was nothing if not an abrupt conversation characterized by boldness.

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#2012-10-26 03:52:46, as written by Caledonia

She didn't want to, but she blushed.

"Ah, sure." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder as she lifted her opposite hand to run it over her face. Her shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.

"Want me to pick you up on my Huffy?"

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#2012-10-26 03:59:34, as written by Caledonia

She paused, staring at the ground after he left, before putting her head into her hands and running her fingers back over her scalp. Well, this was certainly a pleasant turn of events, wasn't it?

She laced her fingers together and rested her chin on top of her hands, gazing at the near-empty easel as she waited for Patchi to return. Nice guy, she thought to herself. Better than the odd woman who had gone out of her way to question Corvin's mental stability a little bit earlier.

The setting changes from wing-city-gardens-north to Main Street

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#2012-10-30 05:04:35, as written by Caledonia

It was hard to say just what it was about Main Street that captivated her attention. The contrast of light and shadow, the aged look of some of the buildings, the obvious wear and tear that came from years of use and abuse? Stories were written in the cracks of the sidewalks, the pavement worn away by countless footprints, car tires, horse hooves and carriages...

She blinked, coming back to herself, a different kind of reality that required a different set of eyes. She held her paintbrush oddly in her left hand, her brow furrowing in concentration as she suddenly focussed on the canvas that lay across the top of her leg. The street was there, a replica of the one in front of her, but the colors were different, like a kaleidoscope, and there were people too, people so perfect they could only be found in a painting.

Corvin smiled. She was painting her dreams.

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#2012-10-30 05:16:04, as written by Caledonia

Brown eyes flickered into focus as she returned, once again, from the briefest of introspective trips. The protective slouch of her shoulders corrected itself as she straightened, turning to look up at the man and his companions, the ones who wanted to see her art work.

No, her dreams.

"Not at all." she replied in a voice that was surprisingly melodic and firm. She turned the painting so he could see it, watercolors and pastels blending in a whirlpool of color. Her eyes studied his face unobtrusively as she angled the canvas. A tired man. She knew what it was to be tired.

"You remind me of a book I once read." she noted mildly. "Battered and worn, but it was still an interesting story. I ended up learning something from it after all." Her eyes closed briefly, before opening once more, now looking at the painting.

"Do you enjoy artwork?"

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#2012-10-30 05:24:39, as written by Caledonia

"Ah, it's hard if you don't look at it with the right pair of eyes." she said with a shrug, turning the canvas around and laying it off to one side. "But, if you must know, it's a dream I once had." A recurring dream, one that boggled even her outlandish sense of thinking.

"What's your name?" she asked him. She was just as disinterested in his companion as he was in her. She paid the other no mind.

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#2012-10-30 05:30:42, as written by Caledonia

"Corvin." she replied, smiling pleasantly at him. She turned to put the still-drying canvas into her bookbag, and picked up her paints to cap them and return them to her bag.

"Where are you going, Angel?" She couldn't help the widening of her smile as she said that. It was so strange to address someone that way.

"Perhaps I'm going in the same direction. It's about time I headed away for the time being anyway."

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#2012-10-30 05:43:31, as written by Caledonia

"Really now, that is interesting. What are the similarities?"

She zipped up her bag and slipped it over her shoulder. "Did you also meet her on the street while she was painting?" Or perhaps she, too, was bald. Admittedly, Corvin had never met another who was hairless like she was.

"Or, perhaps, the way we talk?" She began to walk ahead. "I sleep in the gardens! I find it to be much better for my well being than four crowded walls in one of those dank apartment complexes."

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