Have A Nice Trip ( Sopho! )

[Anonymous]

There was a reason for coming down to Teinar. He knew it. He knew it. Sera remembered it somewhere floating around in his alcohol sloshed brain, he spent at least a good chunk of money on this stuff that sloshed his brains around. Made his eyes blury, made him feel his horns. Sera brushed a finger tip along the side of his horn and gave a giggle. It felt fuzzy.

He eyed the woman across from him as he wandered along, could see the way she leered at him, he waved a hand and continued to stumble down the street before coming across what looked like a really old abandoned car. Looked like a safe place to lose his cookies. Sera swallowed a few times before he lowered himself to his hands and knees and stared at the dirt covered ground, staring at his bare arms, hoping he’d left his jacket inside of Ai.

No losing cookies. That was good.

Sera pushed himself up and went backwards, his butt firmly planted on the ground beside the old car by the scraps of metal and other things. He really did need to remember what he came here for, something to do with Ai, something to do with metal. Maybe he’d remember when his eyeballs weren’t covered in a thin layer of alcohol.

For now though, he’d lean against this pokey thing and try to sleep off the booze. The dimness of the lights over head probably meant it was supposed to be sunset - or sunrise - and that meant it was past sleeping time or he had been drinking for a full night.

Oh right, Ai needed re—

Sera snuggled up against the size of the car, his head at an odd angle because of his horns, his legs sticking out onto the pathway sure to trip someone if they decided to not see the strange man sleeping in the junkyard.

[Anonymous]

It was noon. Tellatyia was combing the junkyard for, well, junk. She wanted metal, or maybe PVC piping, but anything she didn't have her heart set on it. She would find something, she was sure--junk just spoke to her, sometimes. Which made her sound crazy but she was a florist, damnit, she was badass enough to be crazy if she--

Tella's train of thought and search for cool stuff other people didn't want was cut off because she tripped over... some guy's legs? What the fuck?

It wasn't a hobo, as she had first thought, nor a dead body, as she had feared. it was a well-dressed man, passed out against an old car. This was definitelly an odd occurence. The man was not only dressed well, he was dressed... not strangely, but not how a local would dress. Tellatyia looked at this man for a moment, and then prodded him with her foot.

Prod.

Prod.

Prod.

"I know you're not dead," Tella said dryly, "Wake the hell up, you stupid lump, and be glad it was me that found you, and not someone of questionable character."

Prod.

[Anonymous]

With a loud groan, which made him groan a little more quietly and hold his hand to his head, he sat up and sat awkwardly. His feet together and his legs bent outward with his hands pressed against the ground, one hand gloved, the other not, the odd black halter top, his hair stuck up at odd angles and there was a hand print on his forehead.

Pressing his thumb and forefinger to his eyes, he yawned and wiped the sleep out of them before he stared and let the words said a few momoments ago sink it. Questionable character. Sera looked up, stretching and pushing his hair to the side, not wanting it to get tangled up in his horns. He stood up, his 6'2" making him much taller than he was sitting.

Giving a large yawn, he ran his hands down his front and cracked his neck before licking his lips and eyeing the woman. “ I’m one of them Questionable Characters, Sweetheart.” He gave a gentle smile before he blinked and moved to gain his balance back, turning a little green. “Eugh, the alcohol down here is pretty good.” Another pause.

“I’m Sera, Sugar, Who’er you?” he’d have to go hide somewhere if her name was Sugar. “What are you doing in a junk yard?”

[Anonymous]

Watching Sera stand and then turn green with no small amount on trepidation, Tella had two thoughts cross her mind. The first, “I’m glad he can stand because I certainly can’t carry him.” was perhaps not the nicest thing she could think, but it was more charitable than the second, “If that drunk bastard throws up on me I am going to rip his junk off and leave him to get mugged.” In fact, assaulting him was starting to look like a better and better option as he called her “sugar” and “sweetheart”. She scowled at him.

“My name is Tellatyia, you bozo, and I didn’t give you permission to call me anything else, so you’d best quit it,” Tella said, not aware of the sight she made, in old worn tight jeans and an equally well-worn tee, standing in a junk yard lecturing a drunk man… It was pretty par for course for her, though. “I’m getting material for my next bouquet, if you must know, I’m a florist.”

Actually, technically speaking, Tella was the florist. There wasn’t another florist in Teinar, due to the lack of flowers on Teinar’s part and a lack of imagination on the people’s part. Maybe she was a bit of an alternative florist, what with the metal and canvas flowers. And also the plactice ones, and the paper ones, and the Styrofoam ones and… Well. Her medium was a little strange, but no matter.

Her flowers were pretty, and that was what mattered.