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Post by KittsMitts on Aug 16, 2024 19:25:55 GMT
They called it one of the "Loneliest Roads in America." Well, that suited someone on the run just fine. Clink. Hsssss.
"Oh, crap."
Well, apparently he hadn't waited long enough before cracking into the orange soda. Hastily, one hand left on the wheel, he tried to save what he could of the carbonation, sputtering into it and somehow saving his car seats with the sacrifice of the excess spilling on his shirt instead. That'd probably be easier to clean anyways. Ah, who cared. He was the only one on the road for miles, and if the internet had been right at the last stop about 20 miles back, it was likely to stay that way for another hour. He sped up past 70 mph and set the drink back in the cupholder, catching a pack of cashews as it tried to slide off the dash. If his parents could see how he was treating the old-new van now, he'd get an earful for sure. Not like that was gonna happen anytime soon. This was the life. Nothing and no one to answer to, carving his own path. Sure, he was down to his last bits of change, should've spent that on drinking water instead of a the snack stockpile, and he'd definitely have to busk in the next town for a place to stay - Hey, what was that? A tall bird? No, definitely a shorter person. Oh man, was that a kid? At the risk of looking creepy... He decided there might be worse things than a random van coming up to a kid stranded in the desert between Cheyenne and Omaha... Only one way to find out. |
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Post by theownleewoncanoebee on Aug 16, 2024 20:51:10 GMT
The Boy is alone. That in itself is nothing new, he has been alone for most of his relatively short life, and is used to it, but after he began his journey towards New Jersey, he had at least been near people most of the time, they were everywhere: on the streets, inside buildings, in vehicles. But not now. He had been alone for 5 days now, though it could technically be lowered to 2 if you counted the car that drove past him. The Boy didn’t, but he did consider it.
5 days ago, he had had company in the form of a truck driver named Jim who had offered him a ride near Denver, and said he could take him as far as Des Moines, which was in Iowa, and therefore closer to New Jersey than he was before. They had traveled together for 2 days before the Boy had had to remind Jim that the two of them had not entered an agreement of exchanging services, and therefore the Boy didn’t owe Jim any payment for the ride he was receiving. This had displeased Jim, and he had been ordered out of the truck 47 minutes past Sterling, Colorado.
He has yet to run out of food, having been prepared for a long journey on foot with no guaranteed rides, but his water supply is non existing and it’s only his meta-human abilities keeping him going past thirst. He has only just decided that he is going to take the next exit to go to a city to replenish his supplies, when the car he thought was going to pass him, doesn’t.
It stops.
The Boy doesn’t.
At least not until the car begins rolling again to follow him slowly, and the Boy feels compelled to turn around to see why that would be. His expression is blank as he stares through the windshield at the driver.
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Post by KittsMitts on Aug 18, 2024 8:14:53 GMT
There's a vague silhouette of a young man Respawn can see, looking at him. It's hard to make out details through the windshield in the glare of the bright sun, but there's clear movement inside. Soon enough a window is hand-rolled down and a head of sun-lightened sandy brown hair pokes out. He looks around at the vast nothing and no one nearby, then blue eyes and a smile find the boy. "Hey! Kid! Are you okay?"
He talks as loudly and looks genuinely curious on the surface. Barely under that: concerned. "Did you get stranded? Car break down? There aren't any stops for miles..." he continues on at a babbling pace, not acknowledging the kid doesn't look old enough to be out on his own, much less have a car. He lets the van roll forward a bit as he dangles straight out of the window, at least one foot apparently still balanced on the brake instead of putting it in park. "Could you use a ride?" he finally gets to the point, stopping directly next to him and folding his arms over the window to rest his chin on them as he waits for an answer. |
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Post by theownleewoncanoebee on Aug 18, 2024 17:41:27 GMT
The Boy considers the questions quietly, taking stock of his own well-being and his situation. He’s quiet for a few seconds longer than you might expect after asking a question, but finally he opens his mouth and drones: “I am in perfect health, I don’t understand the second question, I am not in possession of a vehicle, and yes.” He begins approaching the passenger side of the door, but comes to a halt to look at the young man again.
“I am not interested in exchanging services. If being a passenger in your vehicle requires ‘favors’ to be fulfilled, I do not accept your offer. I am capable of compensating you in monetary form, however.”
The Boy reaches for the handle of the van, before adding: “Though I am not in possession of much money, and therefore attempting to divest me of my funds against my will would not only be ill-advised because of the low gain of that action, but also because I would be forced to defend myself, and I have yet to lose such an encounter.”
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Post by KittsMitts on Aug 20, 2024 8:58:18 GMT
Blink. Blink blink.
Feeling out the energy of this conversation, the young man nods seriously and takes the direct answers and explanations in stride. He holds up three fingers with one hand, and the other comes up to hold them one by one as he counts off his statements.
"I don't need or want favors or money from you. I can get by myself easy enough, so you keep what you've got, okay? I'm also not interested in any encounters or stealing from anybody. Maybe like, a pack of gum or a donut from a Walmart. I mean... I guess I'm technically a drifter, but that kinda stuff's not me. I just wanna help."
Without using the third finger up, Frankie grins and leans over to get the door open for the kid. Once he does, he boisterously bounces back into the driver's seat. He reaches to clear the passenger seat of a couple wrappers and the bag from the last station, cans clinking and bags crinkling together as he lifts and lowers it in between the seats. Once the kid is inside, the older boy holds out a now free hand for a handshake. "I'm Frankie! What's your name?" he introduces himself with a somehow more beaming smile than before.
Finally, he remembers the third point he had earlier, his mouth forming a perfect O of recollection. "Oh! And 'stranded' would mean you got stuck out here with walking as your only option. But you don't have a car. How long have you been walking? You got food and water?" he asks, curious again. As he talks, he slowly lets his foot off the gas, getting them rolling the way they were both headed.
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Post by theownleewoncanoebee on Aug 23, 2024 0:25:29 GMT
The Boy doesn’t move immediately. He lets the young man, Frankie, clear the passenger seat first, and then climbs inside the vehicle, taking his backpack off in the process, putting it on his lap, jostling the contents against each other, producing a clanking sound of different metals and plastics hitting each other. He looks to Frankie’s hand unblinkingly. He doesn’t understand the gesture, but doesn’t offer this fact up. Instead he answers the question:“Walad.”Boy.
He knows that names are used to differentiate people, to signify personality, family, culture .. But he doesn’t exactly know what that means entirely. Before he was- .. Before he was by himself, the Boy only knew one name. He initially thought he knew five, but after learning English, and asking anyone he came across, he learned that one of them was only a title, two of them were aliases, and the last one, just a description. Of him. It was all he had ever been called, and he didn’t know what else to answer. It was the only name he had been given. He takes those complicated thoughts and packs them away again, taking a very long breath to get his thoughts back on track, and ignore the strange tightness in his chest. “Then I was stranded, and now I am not. 5 days. Yes and no.”
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Post by KittsMitts on Sept 1, 2024 0:16:01 GMT
Not one for handshakes, then. Frankie's hand falters down awkwardly before he lifts it to run it through his hair, not pushing it. What little bother there was passes quickly, and Frankie tries to place if he's heard the name before. It and the perfect accent it comes with escape him. "Nice to meet you, Walad," he feels out the name in his mouth and nods, finding it satisfactorily easy even if a California accent doesn't quite meet the brief. "I've never heard that name before. Where's it from?" he asks, unperturbed. Well, until the kid answers some of his rapidfire questions.
So he had been stranded. If he was honest, the kid – Walad – looked a little worse for wear. But that was mostly the dirt and stuff. He had mentioned having to defend himself, and - wait, five days? "Five days?" Frankie echoes his thoughts the second they process, not hiding the shock. "Well, I need to get some more water at the next stop, but I've got some sodas still. They're in the bag underneath your feet, help yourself to what you want. You've gotta be thirsty by now, it's hot as balls out."
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Post by theownleewoncanoebee on Nov 15, 2024 7:30:56 GMT
The Boy thinks about it. Where is his name from? Does this man mean who named him, or the physical location in which he was given it? He considers the most likely meaning behind his ride’s question as he bends down to retrieve the bag next to his feet. Opening it, he is faced with a conundrum, in the shape of many different shapes and colors of cans and bottles, three of which he recognizes from various signs he’s passed on his journey so far, but the rest he doesn’t. He chooses a “Coca Cola”, having seen a dilapidated billboard a few days ago proclaiming this brand to be the “official soft drink of summer”. He stares at the can for a few seconds, before turning it around, then upside down. He’s unsure how to access the official soft drink of summer.
“Elaborate: ‘Where is it from?’”
He turns the can over again, staring at the pin at the top, realizing that it must have something to do with- ah. There is a seam, which will be broken by the pressure of the tab being manipulated. The boy tries this method, which only a little difficulty stemming from getting a finger under the tab so begin with, but the can is now open, and there’s a strange warm feeling in his chest as he peers into the now open can, hearing little popping bubbling noises. He looks to Frankie so see if he is alarmed by the bubbling of the beverage, notes that he isn’t, and then takes a drink. He initially struggles to keep the liquid in his mouth, his first reaction being to spit it out, but he swallows it, and lowers the can to rest between his thighs. What a strange experience.
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