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Post by Laurel Catre on Dec 8, 2009 20:23:34 GMT -5
[green]Laurel walked away from Madam Weaver's, her veins now pulsing with the Christmas spirit. Christmas was always her favorite time of year, it always brought pretty decorations, cute little kids and ,of course, presents. Her arms now contained several long peices of fabric, one green, one red and one a silvery white color. She planned on decorating her dull room and this was the only thing she could think to do. Back home Christmas was always completely over-done. Her parents would pay top dollar for interior decorators to come in and fill their house with an endless stream of garland, tinsle, lights and let's not forget the 25 foot Christmas tree that stood in the foyer. Of all these ornate decorations her favorite was always the small nativity scene that sat on her fathers desk. It was really crappy, considering how the rest of the house looked but it was beautiful in it's simplicity. she remembered the baby Jesus and how she used to wonder how someone so tiny could've done what he did.[/green]
[red]She walked more briskly now letting herself get excited. This is the first time outside of her cell in three weeks. She'd been trying to get her power straight and hadn't realized how long it had been until she looked at the calander and noticed how close to Christmas it actually was. She looked up at the sky and sighed.[/red]
[green]"I wish it would snow" she said aloud[/green]
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Post by Sulley on Dec 18, 2009 20:52:45 GMT -5
Sulley hugged his jacket closer to his frame to keep the warmth from seeping out. You would think that with simulated skies and weather that the place would always be warm and sunny. But no.
"It had better not snow." He growled as he made his way towards Madam Weaver's. He'd have her make him a nice thick winter coat immediately. If she would, that is. The woman seemed as unpredictable as a cat. He didn't much like her, but they got along well enough.
A girl was walking his way. He hadn't passed a mutant since he'd left the market. Sulley bristled subconsciously, letting his arms drop to the sides. He sharpened them, just in case. You never know.
In passing, the wind picked up. An icy breeze caught the edges of the woman's fabric and lifted them playfully, causing it to wave into...Sulley's hand. About a foot of the green fabric, now separated from it's larger half, felt gently to the ground.
Sulley stopped walking, his eyes on the victim which rested so peacefully, contrasting with the brown surface upon which it lay. Then he looked up at Laurel expectantly.
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Post by Laurel Catre on Dec 18, 2009 22:24:29 GMT -5
Laurel stood in horror as she watched the pretty fabric flutter to the cold ground, the green one had been her favorite. She remembered how she stood in the shop for hours looking at each of the bolts of fabric individually to pick out the right shade. Her body burned with frustration as she watched all those hours laying lifelessly on the ground. Wasted.
She looked up preparing to lash out at whomever had ruined her Christmas spirit and quickly cowered at the sight of who was standing before her. Sulley Trace. This was the one they told her to stay away from. This was the kind of mutant she'd been fearing all this time. She would dodge out of his way whenever she saw him and would only make eye- contact if absoloutely nessecary but now it seemed almost unavoidable.
Laurel bolted toward the fabric and picked it up quickly. She hated the way he was staring at her. It was all she could do to keep from running in the other direction but she stayed and tried to plan an escape with a little more poise.
"I'm sorry" she muttered as she angled her head downward.
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Post by Sulley on Dec 18, 2009 22:39:08 GMT -5
She was uncomfortable. So was he. She was passive. He wasn't. She didn't want to fight. Sulley wouldn't mind.
He might have picked the fabric up for her, but she got it before he'd decided whether or not he'd take the time.
Apologizing never fixed the problem. He never understood why people did it. It seemed a useless act only for the benefit of the person saying it. So they could feel less guilty or something. He kept his eyes on her, appearing as if he hadn't heard.
Since there was nothing to say, Sulley growled a warning, jerking his head away from the girl as if looking at her for as long as he had was painful. Though it wasn't, mind you. The women of Freakopolis were pleasant.
And then he continued on his way to Madam Weaver, not bothering to glance back.
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Post by Laurel Catre on Dec 18, 2009 22:59:37 GMT -5
It was awkward the way he stared at her in his stoic and unflinching manner. She was relived whe he finally walked back towards Madame Weavers. The second he turned his back Laurel sank to her knees and began to cry. She hated it here! The second she got into a fun and happy mood something always had to come around and steal it away, even something as simple as some cheerful decorating.
Laurel picked up the dirty fabric and looked it over. She wished that she could take it back to Madame Weaver to get it fixed, but the last thing she wanted to do was run into Sulley again. She got up and dusted herself off.
" I guess I can still use the other one's" she said to herself.
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