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Post by Jett Tsar on Dec 6, 2009 19:01:01 GMT -5
[Closed to Demetrio.] Jett smiled wistfully at the passing vendor whose jacket--no doubt proffered by Madame Weaver--was held open in order to display his goods. That is, the necklaces he'd made. They looked as if they would be worth a lot in the real world. No doubt he'd be asking an arm and a leg for any one of them. In Freakopolis, that could be literal. It wasn't the fact that the man expected to sell them that procured Jett's smile. It was what the man was saying. He told great love stories from history that involved tokens of adoration. Apparently every necklace he owned was modeled after one or another from his stories. He insisted on the magical effect behind each, drawing in the young by persuading them they'd gain their interest's attention. Love. Jett's smile grew then, and he sighed as he sunk further against the pillows. He sat under an old woman's tent just to the left of her booth which showed ripe stocks of corn and tomatoes and potatoes and other vegetables she and Jett had gathered from the field. An old man, whose name was Benedict--or Tune--sat to Jett's right. He whittled away at a block of wood, claiming he'd have a flute to add to their roadside band in no time. Resting in Jett's arms, slung across his chest by the support of a leather strap, lay a guitar. It's state was crude, seeing as it had been carved in Freakopolis, but it's sound was clear and dead on. Jett's fingers gently strummed the strings made from wires Tune had stolen from the infirmary. "We're not through yet, boy. Keep on. Here comes a fresh crowd." Tune glanced up from his work to motion towards the next approachers. The mutants had a tendency to flock. Jett shifted his weight to push his straw hat out, further into plain view, and then averted his attention to the guitar. He began a slow melody which cried sad notes and whispered with the hint of a lullaby. " What a strange little place
With strange little people.
Going day to day
With much ado about nothing." He sang, holding his notes with his strong tenor voice. Tune grunted beside him. The old man never liked Jett's songs about Freakopolis. They seemed to hit a sore key within the man who had lived here for the past twenty years. |
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Post by Demetrio on Dec 8, 2009 20:51:16 GMT -5
Demetrio's spirit was high after his long predicament in the infirmary. Having recently received the cure for the retched disease that plagued him, he was free to leave as soon as he was able to move. This he did gladly and emerged from the small hospital with a twinkle in his eye. The new found freedom and bill of health was more than he could have asked for around this season. Christmas was around the corner and the air was crisp with cold as if announcing its anticipation.
As a child he had enjoyed such weather, but not so much anymore. It was the kind of chill that got you deep to the bone and wouldn't go away. Enjoying the Christmas season was important, and he was glad this year he would actually have a place to stay where the only way to keep warm wasn't a fire in a barrel. See, there were upsides to this place; you only had to dig deep to find them. He was determined to have fun this year, whatever it took, and find people to spend it with.
The coat he wore had been specially ordered from Madam Weaver. It kept out the cold and kept in body heat, which kept anyone wearing it nice and cozy. Heaven. Demetrio made his way to the shopping area of Freakopolis, fighting against the wind that sought to find a way through his winter defenses. The wind died down as he neared the shops, almost in a welcoming manner. Some mutant controlling some of the weather to encourage consumers, perhaps? Entirely realistic possibility here.
Shops lined the walkway filled with everything a person could need or want. The continuous growling of his stomach said that it wanted food. It wasn't surprising, considering the amount of weight he'd lost while ill. A once toned runner's body was now emaciated and terribly thin. The coat hid most of the damage from the sight of others, for which Demetrio was glad.
One shop in particular drew his eye with its wonderful selection of vegetables. It was the tent of an older woman and a young man sat next to it with a guitar. The instrument was obviously made inside the compound, but the quality of its sound surprised him as the young one played. The old man next to him seemed downtrodden by the song. This hit a bad note with Demetrio because the older gentleman slightly reminded him of his grandfather. Not able to keep himself away from the old man's sadness, he turned away from the food and toward the man. Nourishment could come after talking to him.
"Mind if I take a seat, sir?" |
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Post by Jett Tsar on Dec 12, 2009 22:51:16 GMT -5
Jett's eyes latched on to the figure which moved toward them. He assumed the man was interested and quickly wished he'd be willing to negotiate something of value. Too many patrons thought offers of a warm bed would be reward enough for brightening up their day with a tune. Benedict was never interested, and the only response such a proposal would get from Jett was flushed cheeks and a polite refusal. It would be a lie to say he wasn't interested. He just wasn't desperate.
"Mind if I take a seat, sir?"
Both Tune and Jett looked up. The woman, Helena, bustled over with a maternal smile.
"Of course, deary." She chimed before Tune had a chance to open his mouth. The man eyes her over a skinny shoulder and then shrugged, muttering something along the lines of 'Maybe he can play an instrument too'. Jett nodded a greeting at the man, giving him a simple friendly smile.
When he finished his song, which was shortly after, he looked to the new arrival.
"Jett's the name. Playing's the game." He patted his palms against the side of the guitar to produce a hollow beat. A bracelet on his wrist--recognizable as Bex's--tapped against the instrument as well. "Any requests?"
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Post by Demetrio on Dec 14, 2009 23:50:31 GMT -5
The sound of any type of music in Freakopolis was refreshing to hear. Among the shops was where the best chances of coming across such things were highest. The young man with the guitar had a decent voice, as well. That bit of talent didn't do much in the way of word choice for the songs, but who was he to judge? Demetrio could neither sing - at least he thought so - nor could he play any sort of instrument. All that aside, he always did enjoy watching and listening to other people display their skills.
As the tune came to a close Demetrio participated in the round of applause other spectators gave. He slid into an empty spot next to the old man and admired the detail he was putting into carving an item that resembled some sort of woodwind instrument. The young man introduced himself as Jett. Always willing to meet new acquaintances, Demetrio extended his hand in greeting to the guitar player.
"Name's Demetrio. And I'm afraid I can't come up with a decent rhyme right now. Rather hungry and am searching for some chow. Apple, banana, pineapple, grape..." His attention turned to the older woman at the shop that said he could sit. "Would you mind feeding this malnourished ape?" Demetrio had no idea what he could offer in return for such a grand kindness, considering he had little to no possessions in this place besides what he now wore.
Whatever the woman wanted in return he was sure he would be likely to come up with from his connections to the Dreamers. Those in the faction were always willing to help one another out and share what they had. He would wait and see what she wanted before he even thought about that, though. Many mutants weren't particularly fond of Dreamers. The fact that he was the leader of said faction wasn't going to help his case any if these people leaned toward the Rebellion's side of things. Rebellion members and Dreamers didn't tend to mix well when it came to many situations. In the mean time, Demetrio gave a general request to Jett.
"How about something lively, that gets the blood pumping?" |
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Post by Jett Tsar on Dec 16, 2009 16:19:59 GMT -5
Jett's eyes followed the man as he took a seat beside Tune. The old guy did little more than glance towards Demetrio and grunt a greeting. He'd started on a decorative section of the flute-to-be and was in no position to pay heed to distractions.
"Decent enough." Jett replied quietly, thinking in his mind--not in a negative way--that the man did somewhat resemble an ape. Not that Jett had been exposed to too many in his lifetime.
Helena cackled a delighted laugh and shook a stubby finger.
"Ah ah ah, I don't give away my hard work for free. See this lad here?" She shoved her toe into Jett's butt, causing him to make an uncomfortable sound in the back of his throat. "He worked to pay off the strawberries he and his girly friend bought from me the other day." She looked down at the bracelet on Jett's arm, considering. "Although she did pay with that first. I should have kept it but the darned thing wouldn't fit my wrist. And you would think I'd have lost weight after being in Freakopolis for so long." Helena shook her head and tutted, going back to her fruit to help another costumer.
Jett rolled his eyes.
"She's actually rather nice...once she has payment, that is." A smile slithered across his face as he looked at Demetrio in the same way Helena had looked at his bracelet. "Blood pumping, eh?" His fingers found their rightful places on the guitar and began moving across the strings, producing a tune that sounded an awful lot like 'Cotton Eyed Joe'.
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Post by Demetrio on Dec 20, 2009 23:08:37 GMT -5
A grin couldn't be stopped from crossing his face at the old woman's words. It was perhaps only the second genuine one he had been able to produce since he woke up along the shore of the lake several weeks ago. His memory briefly flashed back to the first time, when Silva had acted the pirate for him. That little gesture had cheered him up at the time. The song Jett now played had a similar effect. His morale rose as it progressed.
Demetrio tapped his foot to the familiar beat. It was all he really had the energy to do even though he would have rather gotten up from his seat to dance. The upbeat rhythm of the music would have been great to work out to. So he settled for the foot tap and a slow head bob. Pointedly, he ignored the grumble of his stomach. Company of others was wanted more than anything else at the moment. None of the patients in the infirmary had gotten visitors, except friends that were also ill, while the disease had still been spreading. He'd had no visitors and no friends.
As another grumble roared from his stomach the beginnings of a headache could be felt. The effects the song had on him crumbled away with each new fierce throb against his skull. A sigh directed at no one in particular was let out as he reached to pinch the bridge of his nose. Pressure there had always helped in the past. It worked against him this time, however, and caused a large wave of lightheadedness to surge over him. Demetrio became disoriented enough that he slid right out of his spot next to the old gentleman and onto the ground, his stomach growling in victory as he went down. |
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Post by Jett Tsar on Dec 22, 2009 12:29:26 GMT -5
Jett lifted a brow as he peered past his guitar playing and at the man who seemed to be having a hard time. He could hear Demetrio's monster of a stomach roaring over his music. For a brief moment Jett envisioned a hairy mass with teeth ripping forth from the man's shirt and devouring those closest. Subconsciously the man leaned away, keeping the guitar's music steady.
A passing mutant with a kind face placed a pearly shell inside Jett's hat. It puzzled him, really, how some mutants could be so kind and giving when they were in places such as this. It shined a light on the good in the world, and for a moment all the evil and wicked was ruled out by that one kind face.
Helena bobbled over to the hat and stooped to retrieve the donation. Tune's hand caught her.
"Ah ah ah, madame, keep your hands from our goods." The man's wrinkled face twisted into an aged smile. Helena jerked her hand free, rubbing her thick wrist.
"It's the least you could do. I let you loiter under my tent and play your music. Give me that shell and you'll be set for at least three weeks." She seemed to have a deeper purpose for the thing. Jett finished his song, glancing again at Demetrio--who seemed out of it--and said,
"Give him food and it's yours." Tune gaped.
"Jett I could use that for--"
"Look at him." Jett whispered now. "He's about to..."
And that's when Demetrio slipped off of his seat and to the ground. Jett sprang to his feet in alarm, while Tune and Helena looked at the man with bemused smiles. Carefully placing the guitar to the side, Jett stooped to take the man's arm, hoping to help him back into the seat.
"Are you alright? Here. Eat this." Reaching behind him, he snatched a carrot off Helena's stand and thrust it into Demetrio's face, ignoring the old crone's glare as he did so. "Good gog, you must not be eating anything if you're collapsing. Or...do you have that disease?" Jett had come after the outbreak, and luckily hadn't concocted the virus or whatever it was that had mutants dying left and right.
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Post by Demetrio on Dec 23, 2009 20:26:48 GMT -5
Demetrio did not move after he landed on the ground. His lay there with his cheek pressed into the cold earth with his eyes closed. An indeterminate amount of time passed before he felt a hand on his arm. An eye opened lazily to look at the person trying to get him to move. Said person was waved off and he turned over as someone would when trying to resume a disturbed sleep. Hands took a firm grip on his arm and pulled him back into a sitting position as he mumbled a few choice curses under his breath about people being too persistent in attempts to wake him up. Truly he was awake when a carrot appeared in front of his face.
"Good god, you must not be eating anything if you're collapsing. Or...do you have that disease?"
He heard the young man's words, but didn't answer. Practically all of his attention was on the wondrous magnificence of the carrot in front of him. Its orange color was vibrant in his eyes, as if in it were contained all the joys the world contained. He felt his hand move to accept it from Jett, but his mouth beat the hand to the finish line. A bite was taken from the vegetable before the hand even came within an inch of it. As the first bite was chewed Demetrio took the proffered carrot calmly, a smile cracking his lips as if this were the best meal he'd ever had. At the moment, it was. Still Demetrio was silent as he finished off the one carrot, his stomach not happy but at least quieted for now. At last his head shook.
"Had. Had the disease. The cure was given out and I was one of the last to receive it." He motioned to his emaciated figure. "As such, this is the result. It will take weeks before I'll be back to my old self. Much healing to do." The disease seemed to have taken a harder toll on his body more than it did for others, but that was alright. He was alive and soon to be well, eventually. All that could be done was to take one's time because all they had in this place was time. And that was a luxury Demetrio did not often have. He would make use of the best of it while it was his to use.
"Thank you for the help. What can I do for you in return?"
Even though he had only been given one carrot, that was enough to earn his gratitude. Sometimes one bite was the difference between life and starving to death, one lesson he had learned early in his life after he had permanently left home and gone on the run. All it took was a kind stranger to show some generosity. It was gestures like that that kept his faith in humanity alive during many of the darker moments in life. It was also how he had come to acquire many of his more cherished friends. Either he had helped them when in need or they had helped him. Reciprocal relationships were the most satisfying when you knew you could turn to and trust someone in the most trying of times. |
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Post by Jett Tsar on Dec 23, 2009 22:25:42 GMT -5
Jett watched the man eat the carrot, suddenly feeling hungry himself. The way Demetrio devoured it and enjoyed it made it look so much better than he knew carrots really were. They couldn't compare to chicken or mashed potatoes. But after watching Demetrio eat it like that, Jett would have chosen the orange stick over a Thankgiving dinner.
A sly hand snaked out to take one for himself. Helena was faster this time.
Her gnarled hand contacted the rop of Jett's, snapping loudly as skin struck skin. Jett yelped and drew it back to his chest. He shot the woman the stink-eye, squelching the desire to pucker his lip petulantly. He wanted a carrot.
When Demetrio offered his services, Jett leaned in and joked,
"Got an offensive mutation? I was hoping to have the woman offed." He jerked his head towards Helena who had resumed her bobbing about. She heard him anyway and sent him a wrinkled glare. Jett grinned, turning back to Demetrio.
"You are free of debt, my friend. I seek nothing in return. Except, perhaps, your camaraderie." His smile turned earnest.
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Post by Demetrio on Dec 25, 2009 22:17:26 GMT -5
"Got an offensive mutation? I was hoping to have the woman offed."
Demetrio snorted at the idea and took the joke for what it was. He wouldn't divulge the fact that there had been blood on his hands once or twice in his past; he wasn't proud of it. Those instances were some of the skeletons he hoped would stay in the closet forever. The bad memories were pushed to the back of his mind as he replied with a laugh.
"Sorry, but my mutation isn't offensive in nature." And immediately added in a mumble, "Not usually."
"You are free of debt, my friend. I seek nothing in return. Except, perhaps, your camaraderie."
Demetrio blinked. Jett's smile was sincere, he could tell that much. Such a person was rare in Freakopolis. An idea clicked in his head as he stared at Jett. Perhaps this guy would be interested in becoming a Dreamer? He certainly seemed to have the personality that was prevalent among a majority of the members. He leaned forward and rested with his elbows on his knees, wanting some information first. Going a direct route was likely best in this situation.
"Have you ever given thought to joining a faction, Jett?" |
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Post by Jett Tsar on Dec 29, 2009 22:21:42 GMT -5
Hunger aside, this Demetrio fellow was rather intense. Jett eyed the man suspiciously, wondering if he had something up his sleeve. A mutation that isn't offensive...all the time? He hadn't heard of that. Hell, Jett hadn't heard of much. He still didn't know what a Twinkie was.
"Uhm, actually, I have been." Jett looked down at his guitar, studying it absently, pursing his lips. "My friend, Bex, commented that I might fit nicely in with the Dreamers. I'm not so sure though." He sighed and looked up at the sky. Sheesh, they could have been more creative with the cloud shapes. The patterns were starting to get repetitive. Only someone who watched them often would have noticed.
"I think I'm afraid to join something thinking it's one thing, only to find out it's a completely different thing. Take, for instance, the fact that I've never seen or heard rumors of its leader. What kind of shady guy is he? What if he's really evil and malicious and is tricking the good mutants in Freakopolis into slavery? Or just..." he shook his head, clearing his thought train before it got out of control. "I'm just cautious. Don't want to rush into things, you know?"
Jett looked up at Demetrio, searching for understanding in the older man's eyes.
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Post by Demetrio on Jan 3, 2010 12:05:55 GMT -5
An eye was kept on the old woman as she went about her business helping potential customers. While Jett talked, part of his mind was on obtaining more food. He'd have to make his way to the food tents some time today. Coming to the shops had been folly, as he had little to nothing to trade at the moment. His ears perked a little and brought all attention back to Jett at the mention of his second. So this young whipper-snapper had come across Bex?
Demetrio blinked. Since when had he used words such as "whipper-snapper?" Maybe he was getting old.
"I think I'm afraid to join something thinking it's one thing, only to find out it's a completely different thing. Take, for instance, the fact that I've never seen or heard rumors of its leader. What kind of shady guy is he? What if he's really evil and malicious and is tricking the good mutants in Freakopolis into slavery? Or just..." he shook his head, clearing his thought train before it got out of control. "I'm just cautious. Don't want to rush into things, you know?"
He blinked again, this time at Jett's words. It started low, the sound that bubbled up from inside him. It was a deep throaty sound until it finally emerged into a genuinely pleased laugh.
"I wouldn't exactly say he's shady. Perhaps not the best man in the world, but no one's perfect. He does his best." He saw the look on Jett's face that must have been on his own hundreds of times in the past. It would've been lying if he said it didn't affect him in some way. And he wasn't about to be caught with his pants on fire. "I understand what you mean. But not everyone likes to be the center of attention, you know?" Demetrio relaxed his shoulders and wished like hell for a cigarette. "Might want to consider taking Bex up on her suggestion, though. I think you'd be a good fit. A spot is always open for new additions." |
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Post by Jett Tsar on Jan 3, 2010 20:10:32 GMT -5
Jett shrugged his shoulder uncomfortably and to stretch them. Hunching over his guitar for too long hurt his back and the muscles around his shoulder blades. He sympathized with Tune, a much older man who was always hunched over something or other. That took determination. The old fart never even complained.
"You seem to know him. Sorry if I offended you, that wasn't my intention." He focused on his guitar. He didn't really want to play anymore.
Jett's eyes strayed to a passing guard. The man in black strolled as if he were at ease but from the way he held his gun it was obvious he was far from comfortable. The guard didn't scare Jett; he'd done nothing wrong and therefore had no reason to be punished. He hadn't seen what they could do--or did--just yet.
"Yes," Jett returned to his conversation with Demetrio, "I probably will. I'm concerned but I think joining a faction is what I need right now." A friendly smile followed.
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Post by Demetrio on Jan 5, 2010 19:55:40 GMT -5
"I should know myself, shouldn't I?"
Demetrio flashed a small grin Jett's way. His finger raised to his lips in a hushing gesture. No need to let all the people shopping hear their conversation. The only ones within a decent hearing distance would've been the music man and the old female vendor, he supposed, anyway. They seemed trustworthy enough. Even though the fact that he was the Dreamer leader wasn't a secret, it also wasn't in his nature to go around advertising that either. If people knew who he was, good. If not, they could think he was just an ordinary resident. His gaze followed Jett's toward a guard.
"Is it just me or are they showing up more often than usual these days?" |
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Post by Jett Tsar on Jan 5, 2010 21:13:09 GMT -5
Jett choked. Not literally, but his mind did a double-take and he was pretty the saliva running down his throat had turned into a bowling ball. He blinked at Demetrio for a few second of stupidity, and then cleared his throat, dropping his chin to his chest so that his hair would conceal his blushing face.
"Wow...I'm....wow." He wanted to melt. And then have the puddle that was left of him scooped up and taken far away from where he currently was.
Jett was all too grateful when Demetrio brought attention to the guard. He was able to recover from his humiliation. Getting a reply out was hard, but he managed.
"Uh, yeah." To be frank. "They....yeah."
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