Remnants of the Earth
EDANITH => Megacities => Tynova => Topic started by: Rhi-Rhi on April 22, 2012, 09:14:46 pm
-
Yazuri entered the training field with her head down and feet dragging.
She so did not want to be here doing this old song and dance again. When would Mikko just accept that she was a sucky mage? True, her mom was talented, but Yazuri hadn't inherited any of that--she'd gotten the ability, sure, but not the skill or drive and all she did was screw up and hurt people.
Like Mikko.
Who'd suffered the brunt of her epic mess-ups.
The training field was large and open with high walls and no ceiling--and also nothing that could be burned, exploded, or otherwise destroyed. Which made sense, considering it was used by mages to practice their skills, or lack of, in Yazuri's case.
Heaving a loud sigh (which was wasted, since she currently had no audience), Yazuri trudged over to the nearest wall, leaned against it, and slid down until she was sitting on the hard ground with her knees pressed to her chest. Her long black hair was out of its usual style of half-down-half-topknot and instead piled high on her head in a tight bun, and instead of her usual soft, flowing robes she wore a form-fitting track-suit. All the better to keep from catching on fire!
Hopefully.
This is gonna suck so hard.
-
“Quit your sighing and get your skinny meat-seat off the ground.”
A gruff and very familiar voice carried easily within the walled-off space, along with the sound of heavy footsteps and…water sloshing against metal. Mikko made his grand entrance with both hands carrying a metal pail full of water - one for him, and one for the mageling he was about to put to work. After all, they’d both caught on fire enough times to warrant this particular precaution.
Dropping them into a corner with a harsh clatter, Mikko stood up and ran his calloused hand through his dark hair, the gray at his temples all the more obvious in the morning sunlight. All this stress was probably aging him prematurely, he was really showing his years even though the average Edani lifespan was far beyond his 45 years. He was dressed in his usual attire - form fitting pants tucked into high black boots, with a shirt sporting a wide square neckline and short sleeves hugging his wide shoulders and well maintained muscles. It was all in navy blue, as a matter of course.
Turning on his young student, Mikko strode right up to her and easily towered above her with his large frame blocking the light. His arms were crossed and his face sported his usual frown, and all together he made the perfect picture of intimidation. However, as Yazuri would have found out a couple years back when they first began working together, Mikko was a surprisingly good guy. Rough around the edges, sure, but he genuinely wanted to help others and even if his methods were rather unrefined, he tended to get results in whatever his endeavor.
“Your attitude sucks Yaz.” He grunted by way of greeting (another bad habit).
“Roll up your sleeves so you don’t catch your fool self on fire. We’re gonna start with the basic conjuring or whatever you wanna call it. I just wanna see some fire out of you. And before you start whining that you can’t, I have the scars to prove that you can.”
-
Yazuri's shoulders jerked when she heard that familiar voice and, slowly, she lifted her head to look up at the shadow looming over her.
Heeere we go again.
Back when she'd first met him, she had been terrified of the man. He was big, muscular, and in a state of perpetual crankiness, and she had answered all his questions and demands with a squeak and a "yes sir!" or a "no sir!" and the occasional "please don't hurt me, sir." As time passed by, it became clear that her original perception of him was...off. He was gruff and rough and no nonsense, sure, but he wasn't actually that scary. Actually, he was pretty nice. In his own way. And he'd never hurt her.
On the contrary, she'd hurt him.
Another sigh escaped her before she could help it, though it was more of a frustrated huff. Slowly, reluctantly, she pushed up off the ground and stood, though she still kept her back to the wall.
"I know I can, I just also know I'm no good at it," Yazuri mumbled under her breath before she decided to try another tactic. She looked up at him, yellow eyes wide and pleading, and gave him her best imploring smile. Ignoring the sleeve request for now, she clasped her hands in front of her.
"C'mon, Mikko, do I have to? We both know how this is gonna end: with fire. And yelling. And probably a lot of cursing which I really shouldn't be hearing. We could do something else! Like...um...like you could do that thing! You know, where you shoot stuff out of the air? That's so cool!"
-
“Like I said, your attitude sucks.” He replied, just as gruff as before. Moon’s ass! This girl was always such a pain to work with. It was worse than trying to get a skittish horse to go over a bridge - at least horses didn’t have the ability to talk back. This process was like pulling teeth, and it generally ended about as well. But he was nothing of not persistent, and he’d be razor whipped before he admitted defeat in this case. She was still young, and she had a lot left to learn - unfortunately she seemed to be having trouble with that whole ‘learn’ part.
“Never in forty-five years have puppy dog eyes ever worked on me, and I’m not about to start now. Whiney students don’t get to see gun tricks.”
He was as immovable as the wall he tended to look like. Without warning, he reached over and bonked her sharply on her bun.
“You’re about to hear enough cursing to make your ears burn if you don’t hurry up and roll up those sleeves.”
As he spoke, he reached up to his neck, where a single necklace was slung. It had the odd ‘key’ that fit into the temple port on all mages. This was the part he’d never gotten used to - sticking this thing into someone else’s brain. Placing a large hand on top of her head, which was basically a clear sign of what he was about to do, he stuck the key into the port quickly but with as much painstaking care and gentleness as he possibly could (he couldn’t even imagine what this felt like, but the less uncomfortable he could make it, the better). One turn later and access to Yazuri’s magic was granted to them both, though Mikko had never been particularly good at figuring out what to do with the weird sensation of feeling someone else’s energy. He’d much rather let the mages do their thing, while he did his.
“Now quit your bitching and let’s get started. Anybody catches on fire, we’ve got water. Scars are nothing little lady, I’ve got more than you could count. As far as I care, they’re just a roadmap to the interesting bits of my life. Your scars will one day be a reminder of you being too pig headed to just stop worrying and do what you do - you think too damn much.”
-
Yazuri's shoulders slumped and her head dropped as she visibly wilted with disappointment and defeat. "Awww, but--ow! Hey! Don't bonk me!"
Reaching up, she rubbed at her bun and scowled up at Mikko. It wasn't like it actually hurt, but she liked to play up the wounded puppy act. She opened her mouth to speak, to protest and make up more excuses, but then Mikko placed a hand on her head and she knew what was coming.
It was...a strange sensation, to be sure. It didn't hurt, and she'd had the ports for as far back as she could remember, but it was a little uncomfortable--if only because she wasn't as used to it as other mages who used their power more frequently. The key turned, and with it came that odd rush of warmth and power and energy, like a dam unblocked, and it sent a small shiver through her. It felt...right, like a missing piece finally returned to make her whole, but it also felt foreign.
And a little scary, because she knew what it could do.
She rubbed at her arms as soon as it was done, drawing her attention away from the strange rush and back to Mikko.
"Better to think too much than too little, right?" Yazuri said with a wry grin and slowly, reluctantly, started to push up her sleeves. "I need to worry, anyway. Scars are gross. I mean, yours are fine! You're a guy! But they're not...pretty." She frowned down at her hands, which still bore patches of pink, shiny skin. "They always look cool on guys."
-
Mikko had already moved away, pulling something from his pocket as he approached the far wall. Equipped with a wax pen, he drew a huge X on the cement - this would be her target. All he wanted was for her to blast the damn thing with fire - how hard could that possibly be?? Why’d she have to analyze what was second nature to her??
Honestly she was just making unnecessary problems for the both of them.
Turning around to face her once more, he crossed his arms over his chest, the frown still stuck on his face as per usual. Though at her words, one dark eyebrow rose sharply over a stormy blue-grey eye.
“Tell you what Yaz - anybody you like has the gall to tell you they don’t think you’re pretty because of your scars, you just go ahead and direct me to them. I’ll knock them into next week. I don’t know what this squeaky clean society’s been pumping into your head, but your worth as a person has nothing to do with how many scars you got, or the color of your hair, or the size of your damn shoe. Anybody who’s only looking at your skin to decide if they like you isn’t worth your time - after all, one day we’re all going to end up a saggy sack of wrinkles.”
He jabbed a thumb at the X on the wall and grunted.
“Hit this with some fire. Don’t think about how you’re going to do it, just do it. You’re a damned mage Yaz, your body already knows how to do this. It’s your squishy pink head-organ that keeps messing things up.”
-
That at least dragged a laugh out of Yazuri and she hid her giggle behind a scarred hand. "Eww, thanks for that visual!"
Saggy sack of wrinkles? As much as his more...colorful words made her ears burn, she loved all his different turns of phrase--even the ones she shouldn't be hearing and wouldn't dare repeat. In fact, she just liked that he didn't talk down to her and didn't tip-toe around her being a mage and everything, like some of the city folk did. It got lonely that way, even if you did have everything, and she liked his frankness, scandalous as it often was. Though she supposed that was what made it all the more thrilling.
And it just made her feel normal.
She finished rolling up her other sleeve. "And, uhm, thanks for the advice. Not that there's anyone, but if there is...I'll remember that. Hookay, so...fire." Her eyes landed on the X, which looked so impossibly far away, and she let out another long sigh.
"Hit the wall. Gosh, you make it sound so easy when you put it that way. So, just...hit the wall." Yazuri took a deep breath, hands starting to grow a little shaky, heart starting to beat a bit faster. Maybe it was what she was born to do, but this was the part that always scared her--because she associated it with pain and unpleasantness and burning, and that fear had not only created a mental block, but it also made it more difficult to control the fire. Fire required force, power, and magic required focus, drive, and control. None of those things were easy to achieve when you kept flinching away from it, expecting the worst.
And Yazuri expected the worst. But she also knew she wasn't getting off the hook until she did this, so the sooner she did...
She exhaled slowly, her breath steaming in the air, hotter than it should naturally be. Just hit the X. Hit the X. Hit the...
She extended her hands out toward the target, not because she needed to, but for the sake of having a visual aid, and imagined herself pushing fire out through her palms, imagined it sailing through the air, imagined it striking the mark, and then she grasped hold of that store of power that was just waiting to bubble out and pulled it up to the surface, pushed it out, set it to follow the path she'd outlined and--
"A-ah! Ow! OW!"
--And she'd panicked.
She'd felt it rise up within her and start to come out and she'd panicked as soon as she'd felt it start to manifest because she expected the burning--and in doing so, she fulfilled her own prophecy. The fire had just started to leave her hands when she'd stopped--and the result was that she'd ended up "dropping" the fire and catching it on her fingers instead.
Thankfully, it hadn't been a very big fire.
Yelping, she shook out her hand and then popped the burned fingers into her mouth, wincing. "Augh! There! I made fire! See? I told you it'd go all wrong!"
-
“That’s because it IS easy - if you’d stop thinking about it so much.”
Sighing he crossed his arms and made sure to stand a fair distance away. Experience had proven how dangerous hanging out around unstable fire mages could be - he too had the scars to prove it.
Most mages had a rough spot at least once during their training, but they all generally worked through it and gained the confidence necessary to use their ability freely.
This girl though was something else. She was still struggling when she should have already mastered the basics if nothing else.
Honestly that brain of hers was going to be her undoing.
Unsurprisingly, she panicked and ‘dropped’ her own fire back onto her fingers. At least it wasn’t anything more serious - he didn’t even have to get the bucket for that one.
Frowning more deeply, Mikko marched back over to her side and bopped her on the bun once again.
“You are your own worst damn enemy Yaz. I’m running out of ideas here.”
He snorted, annoyed at the whole situation, but not at her. If anything, his own inability to figure out how to get her to succeed was the most frustration part - what else could he try to get her brain to shut up??
…hmmm. Well, one way to get the brain to shut up was exhaustion. Of course depriving her of sleep could only result in problems, but there was another way. Continued physical exertion would eventually break down complicated thoughts and simplify things overall - forcing her to rely a bit more on instincts.
“Alright Yaz, time for a change of scenery. Let’s go.”
Turning around, he marched out of their little cement room and into the hallway. It didn’t take long for him to reach the larger room that housed a track and various exercising equipment. It wasn’t really used all that often - after all mages didn’t generally need to work out to use their powers. But it was nice for those who wanted to keep in shape - and it would serve his purpose nicely.
“Start running.”
-
"Oof!" Yazuri ducked her head and rubbed at her bun, then pouted at Mikko. She'd just burned herself and he bopped her when he should be offering up sympathy! Of course, it wasn't like either had injured her, but it was the principle of the matter!
She opened her mouth to apologize, to insist that she'd tried but it wasn't her fault, it was just that there was probably something broken inside her, but Mikko spoke first.
Change in scenery...?
This did not bode well. Past experience told her that it wasn't over yet. It was never that easy.
Yazuri followed Mikko cautiously with a sinking feeling growing in her gut, a sinking feeling which threatened to eat a hole in her insides when they got to the exercise room.
Then Mikko said the dreaded words.
"Whaaaat?" Yazuri gaped at him, mouth hanging open and yellow eyes wide. She did not do running! She hated it! Hated it almost as much as she hated casting magic, because those were two things she sucked at. "Why? What's that have to do with fire?"
-
Mikko turned his intense, stormy gaze on Yaz with all the weight of a father’s disapproving glare. Just by his very stature, arms crossed firmly over his broad chest, it was rather clear he was not about to entertain any arguments.
“I told you to run. Now get to it.”
Explaining things would only be compounding this problem - he wanted her to think LESS, not more. She could grumble and growl to herself about the reasons while she ran.
Eventually exhaustion would weed out unnecessary thoughts, and he would be able to hopefully get her to use fire magic more instinctively.
Hmm, speaking of that…he didn’t want there to be much of a pause between her running to exhaustion and her using fire magic. It would have to be sudden, abrupt, force her to act before thinking.
Looking around, he spotted something that might be useful - a basket full of whicker balls.
Perhaps having something flying at her face would be enough to illicit a reaction.
Or a lot of something, if he had his way.
-
"But--!" Yazuri cut off when she saw the look on Mikko's face and she instantly deflated. She knew that look. There was no arguing with that look.
Her shoulders slumped and she heaved a sigh, loud and huffy to show her displeasure. "Fiiiiiiine."
With a final glower Mikko's way, she turned and started to head for the track, then stopped short and turned back toward him. "Wait, how long do I have to run?"
Yeah, she was totally stalling.
-
Mikko had officially begun to reach a level of anger, which meant his manner of speech was going to start degrading - rapidly.
“If ye don’t get yer butt in gear, I’m gonna put a wallop on that rump o yers to get ye movin’ girl.”
Frighteningly enough, he happened to have a bat in his hands as he spoke - he’d been digging through a box full of random training and sports gear.
“Hows that fer an answer??"
-
"Erk!"
Yazuri didn't need to be told twice; Mikko never said things he didn't mean and with the addition of that bat? It was enough to make her eyes widen and her pulse leap.
With a small squeak and a breathless, "Yessir!" Yazuri was on her way, whirling on her heel and bolting onto the track. She took off at as fast of a run as her legs would manage because when Mikko said run, she wasn't about to jog.
-
Glancing down at his own hand, he realized what he’d been ‘brandishing’ at the girl that’d made her squeeze out of there so fast. A gruff chuckle escaped him as he whirled the bat around a few times - he hadn’t even realized, but it had worked out for the best.
Hrm, considering how adept Yazuri was at making excuses, it might even be best to keep the bat around for when she thought it a good idea to slow down…
The thought put a dry grin on his face as he continued setting up.
Any time Yazuri opened her mouth to ask a question, he glared and raised the bat.
Any time Yazuri attempted to complain, he glared and raised the bat.
Any time Yazuri attempted to stop, he glared and raised the bat.
A few times he’d even begun marching toward her with a look of furious determination - even if he wasn’t actually going to beat her to within an inch of his life, he wanted her to think he really might.
Luckily he was a master of looking unpleasant.
In the meantime, he’d dug out a small mechanical contraption - basically, you put round things in the top, and those round things came shooting out of the tube in the front. It was now aimed at one of the two turns on the oval track, and loaded with those whicker balls he’d found earlier.
“Heads up!”
That was her only warning, and then she was the target of a barrage of whicker balls that whistled through the air and stung a fair bit when they bounced off of body parts.
They were also pretty flimsy and flammable, and he hoped her natural defensive instincts would start incinerating them mid-air.
-
Yazuri didn't know how long she'd be able to keep this up, her sides on fire and her breath was coming in quick bursts. Not to mention she was sweaty all over now, the back of her shirt and armpits and under her small boobs all...soaked. Grossgrossgrossgros s! She was completely and utterly miserable but she didn't dare stop or slow, either, because the few times she had, Mikko had raised that bat or walked toward her and--
--And, well, she didn't think he'd actually use it on her. She didn't think. Maybe. Point was, she still didn't want to take that chance! Just in case.
Panting, focused entirely on the ground in front of her because she was growing exhausted and on the verge of face-planting and this required every bit of concentration from her. She had just started to round a bend when Mikko called out to her.
No sooner had she turned her head and started to utter, "Huh?" when something fast and stinging struck her in the shoulder and made her gasp. Another one hit, then another, and then one flew inches before her nose and she saw it--a wiffle ball?
Throwing up her hands to shield herself, she looked toward Mikko and then gaped in horror.
He was shooting them at her! On purpose!
"Mikko!" She had to duck down to avoid another as it whizzed over her head and then another got her in the belly and another in the leg. It didn't hurt badly, but it did sting--and when there were that many coming at her, more than she could dodge or knock away, it all added up. Without meaning to she'd slowed to a stop, unable to really run with all those things flying at her but unable to get away, too. All she could really do was cover her head and curl down--so that her arms, legs, and sides got the brunt of it. "Mikko, stop it!"
Why was he doing that?! He wanted her to run and so she'd run and now he was doing this to her? All because she was a crappy mage? Now he was punishing her for it and making fun of her? Tears of frustration sprang to her eyes unbidden even as anger started to boil within her, fighting with the humiliation. He was supposed to help her! Not bully and mock her! How could he?!
The stinging wasn't bad when it was just one or two hits, but the balls started to hit areas that had already been struck and that only added to everything else, to the hurt and sense of helplessness--because she was a failure, useless--and an odd sense of betrayal that he'd do something like this.
It soon became too much. A ball struck her in the thigh and something within her snapped.
"STOP IT!" she yelled and thrust out her hands to defend herself, fire following her hands in a great swirling arc that consumed the little wiffle balls and turned them to a mess of melted plastic.
-
The pillar of flame, caught up in her intense anger, ate up the remaining balls that had been whistling through the air. They partially incinerated, the rest plopping into molten puddles on the track.
And then Mikko had to get the hell out of dodge. He kicked over the machine to keep it from being engulfed, and then quickly dove to the ground with his arms over his head to keep his charcoal black hair from BECOMING charcoal thanks to the flames.
Hm, good thing he’d started wearing flame-retardant clothes when working with Yazuri…
There was an uncomfortable blistering hot blanket of air over him for a few moments, but eventually the magic was bound to die off at the end of the arc she had created with her hand movement. Grunting, he was finally able to stand, and he brushed off the front of his outfit with little care.
Wiping the sheen of sweat that had beaded on his forehead, he began walking toward the welted mage without even the slightest fear hitching his step, despite his close call.
“Bout time you stopped thinkin’ and just DID it.”
He was gruff as always, but there was a slight tinge of happiness in his voice. Progress had been made, even if in a very unconventional way. Of course, he was well aware of how angry and hurt she’d likely be at his methods.
“Before you start screamin’ at me or cryin', are you alright? Let’s see those welts.”
-
Yazuri stood there for a moment in stunned silence, chest rising and falling with quick, panicked breaths and hands curled into fists. Had...had she done that? Was Mikko okay? She hadn't meant to send it at him! She just didn't want to be pummeled anymore!
But then he was approaching her, clearly unharmed, and as the shock and worry died down, the hurt and anger came roaring back--helped along by the throbbing sting of the worst of her welts.
And, of course, someone telling her not to cry was a good way to achieve the exact opposite.
Staring up at Mikko, eyes wet and red, she glowered at him and looked away, crossing her arms over her thin chest. "No," she answered as the tears came pouring out. Stupid dumb Mikko, telling her not to cry! Of course that was just going to make her cry more! She wiped furiously at her eyes, caught in that weird place between wanting to tell him to go away and just wanting a good hug.
Still, after a pause, she reached up to the collar of her shirt and tugged at it, pulling it down and to the side just enough so she could expose her left shoulder and the darkening mark on it. "See?"
There were more, of course, but most were in places she didn't want to flash.
-
He wasn’t entirely surprised to hear her say ‘no’ to his question. Of course she was going to cry and feel sorry for herself…it was more a ‘boy’ thing to just suck it up and put on a brave face, anyway. Just a few welts were worth so much crying…it would be somewhere along the lines of pathetic and hysterical to watch Yazuri try and scratch out a living on the Frontier. Sometimes he forgot how soft the city folk were…especially the mages, pampered and protected as they were. Walking batteries, heh.
He preferred to treat them the same as any other person.
Or, as in this case, like a person he actually liked.
He glanced down at the welt before rolling his grey-blue eyes up toward the sky momentarily. Oh, honestly…
Abruptly a gruff hand came down on the back of Yazuri’s head, and then…she was being pulled against his solid frame. It wasn’t quite a full hug, with just that one hand and it’s reassuring pressure against her skull, but it was more than like…anybody…had ever really gotten before. At least, for so long as Yazuri would have known him.
It was a surprisingly gentle, warm gesture from the blunt man.
“You’ll get yer pamperin, as a reward for a job well done. I’d let you take one good swing at me, but yeh almost caught my hair on fire so I suppose we’re even.”
-
As soon as she felt that hand on the back of her head, all the anger melted out of her. She wrapped her arms as far around his waist as they could go and hugged him back tightly, face buried against him and shoulders shaking with the last of her tears. The gesture disarmed her, reassured her; the man was like a father to her, more so than even her own father who was still alive and well. But he was busy, usually sent off on important missions and the like, same as her mother. She didn't see them much.
But she did have Mikko.
And sometimes, that sort of tough love he had was hard and confusing!
Finally, when she was all cried out, she pulled back and wiped her face off on the hem of her shirt. She peered up at him. "Pampering?"
That got her interest.
-
His calloused hand stroked the back of Yazuri’s head as she got all her tears out, the gruff man not minding even as the front of his dark blue shirt became even darker with salty water and probably a fair bit of snot. Crying was messy business in it’s own way.
Mikko was not a family man in any sense - he hadn’t seen his own family since he was tiny, and he had no children of his own, nor anything resembling a girlfriend. Married to his work, you could say.
But sometimes even work could give you little‘uns to look after.
Finally she seemed to have gotten it all out, and she pulled back some, wiping the remnants of that ‘messy business’ from her face with her own shirt this time. Odd as it was, he found that pretty adorable - just a normal kid reaction, wipin’ snot on your sleeve…
He snorted at her hopeful question, crossing his arms over his broad chest once again.
“Yeah, pamperin’. I know you lady folk like a good bit a that sort. Least I can do, as you managed a great blast of magic there. Only question now is, what sort a pamperin’ you want?”
-
Yazuri's puffy red eyes widened, all the earlier trauma forgotten and only a tear-stained face and stuffy nose remaining to show for it. "I get to pick?"
Those were the magic words. They opened up so many possibilities! So many options! It was almost overwhelming, in fact! They could go to a restaurant, or go to a spa! She could get a facial or get her nails done or soak in one of those crazy mud baths that were supposed to be really good for your skin! So many things! So many things she'd always wanted to do, but didn't normally get to do because she was too chicken to go alone and didn't know anyone who was interested.
Her face broke out into a bright smile and she clasped her hands together.
"Can we go to the spa? And a fancy restaurant? Like one that has steak and huge desserts and stuff? OH! Maybe one that has a performance! Do you know of any?"
-
What was that saying… “Like opening a can of worms?”
With his arms crossed over his chest, and a sniffling youngin’ looking all bright eyed up at him, he could do little more than sigh.
“Yeah, ye get ta choose.”
What a horrible decision that was. How many things did the cheeky girl need?? Dinner, show, and a spa?? Bloody red earth what had he gotten himself into…
Sure this was a ‘congratulations on not sucking’ gift after a rather long history of sucking…but he wasn’t sure he wanted to make a habit out of this sort of a money-drop.
“Awright awright, slow yerself down Yazuri. I’ll see what I can find fer you. Go get yourself all washed up and proper, and I’ll meet ya outside your place.”
Well, hopefully this wouldn’t turn out to be too much of a mistake…she was way too eager to tell her ‘no’ now anyway. Bah, what a pushover he’d become…
-
It was an effort not to squeal in happiness and clap her hands--oh, who was she kidding? It was too much of an effort and she did, in fact, let out a happy squeal, though instead of clapping, she threw her arms around Mikko's neck and gave him a tight squeeze.
"Thank you, thank you! Okay! I'll be ready real quick! Like twenty minutes! Thank you!"
With that said, she let go, turned, and raced out of the practice area. So excited was she, that she even forgot her gym bag and didn't even realize she'd left it until she got home. Oh well! She could pick it up later! She'd be in that nasty gym again soon enough, she was sure! But for now, she had to get ready for an awesome night out!
It didn't take her too long before she was dressed up in a pale green sun-dress that came to just above her knees, black hair (still damp from her shower) piled up onto her head and held in place with decorative pins. She paced in her living room as she waited--not her own home, really; her parents lived there technically, they were just never in Tynova.
Her eyes kept flicking anxiously to the clock on the wall. Ahhh! Where was Mikko? Granted, he still had five minutes, but those five minutes were taking forever!
-
A grunt accompanied the hug, as he struggled to maintain his usually gruff and immovable persona. Honestly, what had this girl done to him? What on this red earth was he becoming…sigh. He watched her back as she dashed out of there like her rump was on fire, biting back a chuckle before he calmly walked over and retrieved her bag. That little idiot…ah well, he was probably mostly to blame in the end.
That five minutes may have taken forever, but Mikko was a rather punctual person believe it or not. The sharp knock hit the door almost dead on the second.
On the other side of the door, the large Mordecai had at least made his own attempt at cleaning up and looking a bit more presentable. Not that he wasn’t usually, just…well, fancy places and all that.
Still dressed in blue, it was a darker tone now, coloring the turtleneck style shirt he was wearing. Though it had long sleeves, the fabric itself was relatively thin and soft, so as not to be all that warm or uncomfortable on a mild day like today. Not really certain what was even fashionable these days, he’d just defaulted to sleek black slacks - hard to go wrong on that one. He was still wearing calf-hugging boots, but they were not his usual beat up pair - dark brown and actually polished for once.
For an old guy, he didn’t look half bad!
-
As soon as that knock sounded, Yazuri lunged for the door and swung it open.
"Hi!"
And then she froze, blinking up at him in surprise as she actually got a good look at him.
She wasn't really used to seeing him in normal clothes. Well, okay, scratch 'normal'--the correct word was nice. Fancy. Dress-up clothes. She didn't think she'd ever seen him in a turtleneck or slacks and she'd never expected to, either. Boy, he really was getting into this!
Yazuri stared a little longer, head slightly tilted and mouth partially open, then gave herself a shake when she realized she was being rude. "Oh. Whoa...ah! Hey! You brought my bag!" she said, abruptly switching gears. "Thanks! Haha, I totally spaced and forgot it. Here, you can just toss it inside, I'm all ready!"
She moved aside to make room and, grinning, did a quick spin. "How do I look?"
-
A dark eyebrow slowly arched at her belated reaction. What was with all the staring??
“Close yer mouth, ‘fore you drool. An’ if there’s somethin’ wrong with what I’m wearin’, you better speak up now.”
With a grunt he nodded at the next bit, lightly tossing her bag into the foyer without actually stepping foot inside himself. Hey, he’d not been invited, wasn’t polite. He straightened in time for her little pirouette, and a mild snort left him as he crossed his arms in a very normal Mikko stance.
“Lookin’ good kid. Nice color.”
As always, he wasn’t one for mincing words. But he was being honest, she looked nice. He just…didn’t know how else to say it really, other than to just say it.
Hey, he never claimed to be particularly good with the womenfolk.
“Alright, so what’s it gonna be first? Dinner or that spa thing?”
-
Yazuri closed her mouth and, to be on the safe side, she discreetly wiped the corner of her lips. Pah! She did not drool! His compliment, however, made up for that comment and sparse though it was, she took it to heart--because it was a feat and a half to get that much out of him! And Mikko didn't waste words; if he said it, he meant it.
At his question regarding where to start, Yazuri tapped a finger to her lips and tilted her head in thought. It didn't take long to reach a decision for though Yazuri was a lot of things, indecisive was not one of them. She knew what she wanted! "Hmm. How about dinner, since we're all dressed up?"
After all, once they got to the spa they wouldn't be wearing these clothes anyway, but special robes, and she'd have to wear her hair differently so it stayed out of the way and didn't get mud or whatever in it. May as well get dinner while they were still dressed nicely rather than after they'd messed up their clothes and hair!
Not that Mikko had that much hair to muss, or worried about that in the first place.
She grinned up at him. "Then we can really wind down and relax at the spa! Just don't get too full that you'll fall asleep! Wouldn't be good to drown in a mud bath or anything," she added, wrinkling her nose at the thought.
What a way to go.
-
Mikko made a rather interesting face at that.
“No, I’d rather not drown in mud.”
He’d survived gunfights and knife wounds and all sorts of dangerous things out on the frontier. To die in a fancy pants spa thing where people willingly sit in mud was not how he anticipated going out.
He let out a bit of a sigh and rubbed the back of his head mildly.
“Dinner it is.”
He stepped back from the door, and then paused momentarily. It was odd trying to shift his brain into a gear it hadn’t used in a long, long time. But this was supposed to be a night out for her, so he ought to at least be on his best behavior.
With that thought, he offered her his arm.
“Place’s close. We’ll just walk, if thas’ alright.”
-
Yazuri blinked at Mikko's offered arm for a beat, and then her face broke into a wide grin. It was so strange seeing Mikko like this; prior to now, she hadn't figured he had a gentlemanly bone in his body. Look who was getting proven wrong in all sorts of ways tonight!
Still smiling, she hooked her arm in his.
"Whoa, how chivalrous!" she said with a laugh. This was pretty awesome, she and a Mordecai, all dolled up and going off on a da--wow where the hell had her mind just gone? Wrong word! Uh, outing. Yes, an outing. Point was, this was nifty, and the closest she'd ever gotten to being wined and dined! Not that she planned on wining, but the point still stood.
"That's fine by me! Guess we could use the exercise before a big meal, huh? Not that you need it, mister muscles."
-
He could tell that she was finding this very entertaining. Granted, the surly guy was definitely doing something of a 180, but it wasn’t as if he had no sense of proper behavior.
He just tended not to use it most of the time.
Bah, she had better be grateful under all that grinning - he was really going out of his way here. Man, the things he did for his mages sometimes…
He was beginning to feel increasingly whipped these days.
Mikko snorted at her exclamation, easily leading their walk by mental map alone.
“Yea’ yea’.” Chivalrous his ass. Oh well, he supposed it was worth it, given how happy she seemed. Wouldn’t be much of a ‘reward’ if she wasn’t grinning through most of it.
A grunt met her little quip, and he tensed those muscles a bit against her arm as if for good measure.
“It’s called ‘hard work’, and it ain’t somethin’ most mages know about. Calloused hands and chiseled muscles are just some of the perks.”
It was hard to tell, but he was joking right back at her - if you didn’t know him, you’d likely miss the tiny half smirk tilting one side of his mouth.
-
"Whoa!" Yazuri let out a startled laugh when his muscles moved under her hand, and she gave his arm a little squeeze in return. "Haha, goodness! You're like a rock. Buuut I don't know that callused hands are much of a perk, Mikko!"
She flexed the fingers of her free hand. "I kind of like my hands all soft. And after today, yours will be soft, too. They're gonna file those calluses down and soak them in lotion and then you'll have lady hands!"
Yazuri grinned broadly at that, the thought of Mikko with 'lady hands' pretty hilarious to her. "And you'll smell all nice and flowery with pretty nails and everything. I wonder if they give pedicures there..." She nudged him. "You'd get a pedicure with me, right?"
-
“I know a few who might disagree.”
He mused, but didn’t elaborate on just what exactly he meant. It was probably better he not attempt to explain, as it was something of an…off color joke. Better to let that one go over her head.
Another snort left him at the thought of losing his rough hands, and he shifted a bit as they walked down the crowded streets toward the restaurant of choice.
“They’ll have ta’ fight me for em.” He muttered, but there was still that sense of humor lurking if one knew where to look. Though really, he wasn’t going to let them do too much damage to his hands - it was a hell of a thing to build them up, and they protected him from all the rough tasks out on the frontier.
Yazuri was clearly not content to leave it at that, and he finally turned his head to stare down at her, one eyebrow arched high.
“You tryin’ to make me regret this? None o’ that sounds the least bit pleasant.”
Still, as the rounded a corner and headed up to the front entrance of a rather well to do establishment, he opened the door with a sigh.
“Ain’t nobody gonna want to get that close to my feet, I promise ya that. Now git yer rump in here and let’s eat.”
-
And over her head it went. Yazuri gave Mikko a strange look but didn't press the issue, though she couldn't wrap around her head around why he liked them so much or why he'd fight to keep them. He was an odd one, that was for sure!
"Oh, don't knock it until you try it!" she said, heading through the door as he held it open for her. "You just gotta keep an open mind! You might find out you like it! Besides," she said with a frown, deciding to lay on the guilt a little, "it's not like it's torture. Not like getting pelted with balls."
Flashing a grin to show she was kidding--sort of--she skirted on ahead of him and let the hostess know they'd need a table for two. The lady fetched some menus, then did a double-take when she saw Mikko. But, gracefully, she recovered and motioned them both to their booth.
It was real fancy, a little lit candelabra on the table and everything, and the booth felt all private. Yazuri took her seat and flipped open the menu. "Thank you, by the way. This place is really nice!"
-
Oh a guilt trip was it? Thanks, but he’d already been guilted into dropping quite a bit of his money. He just gave her an arched eyebrow for her troubles, though their bantering air continued. Striding in behind her, and no longer having her on his arm, he hooked his thumbs into his pockets. The double-take didn’t much get a reaction from him - he was used to that sort of thing in the city. Normally he stuck out a bit, still looking as though he belonged on the frontier. He just hoped he was ‘dressed up’ enough for the likes of this place, if only for Yazuri’s sake.
Sliding into the booth across from his young charge, he flipped open the menu himself.
“Bah, don’t fret over it. Ya earned a treat, after all. Now, what sorta meat they got on this fancy pants menu.”
-
"Steak!" came Yazuri's enthusiastic reply. She spun her menu around and pointed out the 16 ounce steak, which came with a baked potato and mixed vegetables.
"Lots of steak! And chicken and pork, too, and I think I saw duck? But I want the steak. That one." She tapped her finger on the menu. Of course, she had no idea how big that steak was, but it sounded big and awesome and she wanted it!
Because she was hungry as heck after all that running!
She flipped to the beverage section, but saw only a lot of fancy wine and alcohol. "Think they have pop here?"
-
Both eyebrows arched in amusement as the lil’ girly across from him pointed out the biggest steak meal she could find the menu. Woman after his own heart eh? Nothing like a nice cut of beef to hit the spot.
“Good eye kid.”
He didn’t bother mentioning how curious he was to see how much of that she could actually fit into her stomach. Following her lead, he too flipped over the menu to purvey the drink selection. Were he not technically working, he might have indulged in some spirits. He was used to shitty frontier booze, but some of the options at these fancy places weren’t half bad.
“Mayhaps not, pretty swanky gig n all. Water won’t harm us none.”
Soon after he had placed their orders, as it was a rather simple ‘same for the both of us’ situation. He then settled back to relax and await their food. The atmosphere was somewhat dimly lit, to create what he supposed was supposed to be a more quiet ambiance or some such. The only sound other than the chattering of fellow diners was the soft music floating from somewhere slightly further down than their table - what would turn out to be a dance floor style area, with various pairs already swirling and swaying to the classy music.