Detective Tyrone Roderick, karate bear of some department with too many rescued pets.

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Read this if you do not want to get arrested.

((Character is back to do silly things. Click my personal website to go to my character's Tumblr, though. I want him to be more active on there.))

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Tamislin Report | 08/18/2014 8:09 am
Tamislin
((Funny news?  Damn.  That's probably not a good reaction.  XD))


Tamislin doesn't know what it was like thirty years ago, the look on his face tells Tyrone. "Oh," he says, apparently taking that information at face value, "I always get asked about the ears or someone makes a comment about them, so I.." He trails off for a moment then shrugs, "So I figured it would be." That doesn't sound like it is what the brunet wanted to say in the first place, but the shrug that accompanied it deems whatever he intended to say first inconsequential.

The tea steeps and the short fellow looks to the side as he thinks about the time before he'd been living in this appartment. It doesn't look like he is consciously aware of moving slightly behind the chair on his side of the table, one hand on top of the backrest, the other on the side but policemen are probably more used to spotting it in those they talk to anyway. "This one is better, I think," he said, his voice quiet. "Not so.. " he bites his lip and thinks about his answer again, his eyes yet to meet the Detective's.

"They have a library, and [i]nobody[/i] ever fights in there. They say Mrs. Marcia," the librarian, presumably, "Is secretly a spy or something so nobody dares." Probably not true, but an apparently effective enough measure. Tamislin certainly seems to approve of a capable warrior protecting knowledge. "And the teachers are a lot less.. " He stops himself from saying what he's thinking, and uses the more tactful version of "They're more friendly," instead.

He likes that they have lockers that actually work and that nobody tries to break them open when you're not there. He likes that he can get out of gym every so often because he's good enough physically not to need it, and he has a permission slip to find some peace and quiet every so often as humans and their surroundings are a lot more noisy than he is used to or would voluntarily expose himself to for such prolonged periods of time. They either didn't think it necessary at the other school or just didn't allow for that sort of thing as a general policy. He likes that the canteen lady lets him be picky about the food here when he doesn't bring any from home. He likes that his homeroom teacher will try to explain things to him in as many ways as he can because "he says my brain's wired differently instead," - .. instead of something not so graceful, probably - and he doesn't want the kid to fall behind.

He doesn't like the homework any better, though. And he doesn't always understand what his classmates mean when they say things, so he doesn't always know if he's being made fun of or not, and sometimes, the other children in his classroom are irritatingly immature, but elves and humans grow differently, and he knows to suffer it for the most part. And he can always talk to the dean, though the word doesn't seem to inspire much trust in the short fellow.

People don't bother him as much in this school, and he likes that, too.

The more he talks about his current school, the less the boy seems to need the physical shield of the chair and table and actually looks at him. Tyrone has probably noticed a tendency for him to edge back behind it whenever he mentions the old school though. Never quite looks at the man when he does either. Sounds like that might have been part of the reason he got relocated, then?

But the tea's ready, then, and Tamislin is a good host as he pours the Detective a fragrant cup of Jasmine tea.

"I'm not supposed to get in trouble with the police," he said, by ways of explanation, apparently not quite sure not seeing them too much reflected badly on him or not, despite the Detective's words. "Who wants to deal with the paperwork?" he asks with a shrug, making it sound like it's something somebody else said often enough for it to have gotten stuck in his idioms and abandons the chair in favour of his own steaming cup of tea, adding some honey to it and stirring it slowly.

"Did y
Tamislin Report | 08/18/2014 7:48 am
Tamislin
((Bwhaha, broke the damn font again. Last sentence that did your profile in..))

"Did you want honey, sugar or milk with that?" He asks, pointing at Tyrone's cup.
Tamislin Report | 08/18/2014 7:46 am
Tamislin
((Funny news?  Damn.  That's probably not a good reaction.  XD))


Tamislin doesn't know what it was like thirty years ago, the look on his face tells Tyrone. "Oh," he says, apparently taking that information at face value, "I always get asked about the ears or someone makes a comment about them, so I.." He trails off for a moment then shrugs, "So I figured it would be." That doesn't sound like it is what the brunet wanted to say in the first place, but the shrug that accompanied it deems whatever he intended to say first inconsequential.

The tea steeps and the short fellow looks to the side as he thinks about the time before he'd been living in this appartment. It doesn't look like he is consciously aware of moving slightly behind the chair on his side of the table, one hand on top of the backrest, the other on the side but policemen are probably more used to spotting it in those they talk to anyway. "This one is better, I think," he said, his voice quiet. "Not so.. " he bites his lip and thinks about his answer again, his eyes yet to meet the Detective's.

"They have a library, and [i]nobody[/i] ever fights in there. They say Mrs. Marcia," the librarian, presumably, "Is secretly a spy or something so nobody dares." Probably not true, but an apparently effective enough measure. Tamislin certainly seems to approve of a capable warrior protecting knowledge. "And the teachers are a lot less.. " He stops himself from saying what he's thinking, and uses the more tactful version of "They're more friendly," instead.

He likes that they have lockers that actually work and that nobody tries to break them open when you're not there. He likes that he can get out of gym every so often because he's good enough physically not to need it, and he has a permission slip to find some peace and quiet every so often as humans and their surroundings are a lot more noisy than he is used to or would voluntarily expose himself to for such prolonged periods of time. They either didn't think it necessary at the other school or just didn't allow for that sort of thing as a general policy. He likes that the canteen lady lets him be picky about the food here when he doesn't bring any from home. He likes that his homeroom teacher will try to explain things to him in as many ways as he can because "he says my brain's wired differently instead," - .. instead of something not so graceful, probably - and he doesn't want the kid to fall behind.

He doesn't like the homework any better, though. And he doesn't always understand what his classmates mean when they say things, so he doesn't always know if he's being made fun of or not, and sometimes, the other children in his classroom are irritatingly immature, but elves and humans grow differently, and he knows to suffer it for the most part. And he can always talk to the dean, though the word doesn't seem to inspire much trust in the short fellow.

People don't bother him as much in this school, and he likes that, too.

The more he talks about his current school, the less the boy seems to need the physical shield of the chair and table and actually looks at him. Tyrone has probably noticed a tendency for him to edge back behind it whenever he mentions the old school though. Never quite looks at the man when he does either. Sounds like that might have been part of the reason he got relocated, then?

But the tea's ready, then, and Tamislin is a good host as he pours the Detective a fragrant cup of Jasmine tea.

"I'm not supposed to get in trouble with the police," he said, by ways of explanation, apparently not quite sure not seeing them too much reflected badly on him or not, despite the Detective's words. "Who wants to deal with the paperwork?" he asks with a shrug, making it sound like it's something somebody else said often enough for it to have gotten stuck in his idioms and abandons the chair in favour of his own steaming cup of tea, adding some honey to it and stirring it slowly.

"Did y
Tamislin Report | 08/03/2014 4:38 pm
Tamislin
"The ears should give that away, I think," Tamislin said, a dry tone to his voice, as he dunked the Jasmine in the hot water, then closed the lid on the teapot to put it on the heat-keeper that he never remembered the name of. He'd already lit the little candle beneath it, though, and let it be. He was obviously confused by the comment about the gunpowder, but guessed the detective meant that, as a cop, there were too many people waving guns around for his liking.

.. yeah, that made sense, didn't it? That was probably it, then. Satisfied with the conclusion he'd drawn, Tamislin sat about answering the man's questions. They seemed harmless enough. Provided he gave the harmless answers, anyway.

"I've been living here.. some nine.. nine months now? Three seasons, at the least," he said. "School was before that, but my placement wasn't, ah.. optimal for my development?" He wasn't sure of the words, it seemed. Like someone had used it in conversation about the topic and he was just repeating it, "So then they contacted some people and I've been living here ever since." Well, that was the extremely short version of it, anyway.

The short fellow didn't seem to know how to answer the question about the police. "I don't see them a lot," he admitted. "Sometimes, there are the cars, but they usually just pass by in a hurry with the loud noises and lights on." He didn't much care for either of those things. Too loud and too bright. The way he figured, the less he saw them, the better.

Uh, present company excluded, of course..

((Those books you have that belong to Tamislin were probably taken from him sometime before he came to live in this apartment. Vague background information is vague. XD But, too tired for more! Enjoy! 8D))
Tamislin Report | 07/17/2014 1:35 pm
Tamislin
Tamislin glanced at the water cooker and waited for it to boil. He made a bit of a sound in response to the human expressing his thoughts on childhood and the fun it should be, but was still uncertain he saw the merit of some of his classmates' idea of 'fun'. Actually, most of the student body had strange ideas about 'fun', yet he continued to fail at seeing the point in singling people out and humiliating them as a bonding experience. He was glad his spellwork had kept him safe from that so far.

The elf glanced back at the human, realising he was being addressed. Unconsciously, he straightened a little, as if the question set him on the defensive. To be honest, it did. He tried to keep contact between the people he interacted with and her to a minimum for a reason, after all.

"We get along okay," he said, "Whenever she's not working, she helps me with homework and 'normal human stuff' that I don't get. It helps that she's been through many of the things I'm going through now while adjusting to life here, so she can easily correct where necessary or pinpoint me in the right direction to fix whatever's bothering me." That sounded like something good guardians did, anyway. He really hoped to avoid the occasion where the Detective actually came face to face with the shade he had adopted as his 'legal guardian'. It had worked well enough to convince the landlord to let them live here, and the few times he'd needed to show up with an adult for school and that one time for the library had gone off mostly without a hitch, too.

But the Detective was a lot more attentive than most humans, the short fellow had already learned.

Thankfully, the water boiler beeped and the brunet could turn his attention towards it and the high tea set that was waiting patiently for the hot water. He used the barstool to get to the cupboard again for the tea. He picked something purple and put everything else back. "You're not allergic to Jasmine, are you?" Tamislin wanted to verify before dunking the teabag.
Tamislin Report | 07/14/2014 2:46 pm
Tamislin
((I don't worry about it because I'm updating you with the delay and the reason behind it. wink

See what I did there? 8D /shot

Thank you, though! Took me quite some time to find it, but I got it for a darn good price - who knew I was this good at bluffing? - so if you ever need someone to go 'I can't afford more money!' at the person who wants to sell you the house, let me know. XD; ))
Tamislin Report | 07/14/2014 2:05 am
Tamislin
((I bought a house, things are hectic so I haven't gotten around to replying yet. I haven't forgotten about you, though!))
Tamislin Report | 06/24/2014 9:17 am
Tamislin
Tamislin let out a tiny snort, before shooting a quick glance at the Detective, giving the impression that he hadn't meant for it to be quite so audible.

"I doubt even this landlord would let minors live on their own," Tamislin clarified as the Detective manhandled the chain lock into position. "Thanks," he said. "Mind, that's probably only because he wouldn't think they'd earn enough money to pay the rent, but still, a bad excuse for a standard is still better than no standard at all, I suppose.." he went on as he headed towards the kitchen and climbed on the stool to reach the top cabinets for a glass, which he filled with water and brought over to the table.

"Feel free to sit," he said, "Or in the living room, I guess," he glanced towards the slight mess he'd left there, trying not to look worried. "Tea's going to take about ten, I think." He had to do things the old fashioned way, after all, as he turned back to the kitchenette and made to fill the water boiler patiently sitting next to the sink.

He let out a depressed sounding sigh, "And yes, I am a minor. I wouldn't spend nearly as much time around my classmates if I wasn't. Or in school, for that matter." He pulled a bit of a face as if the word itself left a sour taste in his mouth. "My maternal parental figure is probably still working. There was only one coat on the rack, and that's her good coat. She has the night shift sometimes. Usually there's a note, though.."

He mumbled something about still needing a note signed for school, as well, before turning to glance up at the Detective to make up his mind or where he wanted to sit and wait for the tea.
Tamislin Report | 05/28/2014 12:04 pm
Tamislin
((Haha, my comment was too long and broke formatting XD

Here is the last paragraph that obviously killed it..))

The kitchen was less cluttered with two chairs that were fitted tightly against the thin table and a barstool, that stood closer to the sink and kitchenette. Tamislin would no doubt go in there to heat some water for tea as soon as he finished standing on tip toe to use the chain lock. Almost.. got it..
Tamislin Report | 05/28/2014 12:03 pm
Tamislin
"Good," Tamislin looked relieved the man was inclined to go for tea.  He'd just put some more plain water on the table as well and things would no doubt sort themselves from there.  And biscuits.  Biscuits with sugar on them tended to help as well.


He took another moment to make sure the human was doing alright with the railings, but those, at least, were sturdy enough on the first couple of floors. It was only past the third floor that they went missing from time to time, and since his appartment was conveniently located on that mysterious floor of many boundaries, he figured they would be alright..

"He seems to prefer long term investors who do not interfere with his business," the short fellow admitted as he led the way, going slowly to accommodate for the Detective's pace, "And overcharging people for the holes in the walls he calls 'plush-sized appartments'." At least, he thought it was 'plush'. Perhaps it was 'plus'? Well, no matter. The human was likely too intoxicated to really notice anyway.

There was little done about decorating the stairways, though the half-cleaned graffitti on the second floor at least gave the impression that [i]someone[/i] tried. There had been a nonsensical message there about Alice and where she'd been, but now all that remained was 'Al' and 'ere' and some undefined stripes. Tamislin did not know of anyone in the building called 'Alice', but it had to be said that he hardly knew everybody. The top floors, especially, tended to cycle through tenants at an express rate.

Tamislin adjusted the shoulderbag and departed the staircase to wander down the hallway of the third floor. He made sure not to hurry too noticeably, but there were wards that he'd set, and he had to check and deactivate some of them to allow passage. With the human taking his time, and being slightly less sober and keen-eyed, it likely made no difference. Besides, the elf told himself, considering the books the detective had confiscated from him, he should know the subject of magic was at least one that [i]interested[/i] him..

He wove his hands in front of the door, his keys in hand, pretending to juggle them one-handedly into revealing the appropriate key for this door only and breathed out a passphrase that would make no sense to most people. All was in order, all was fine, he'd made it back and he and his guest would be safe inside. He put the brass item in the lock and turned it, waiting for the human to show before opening the door and holding it for the Detective.

The small hallway that led into the appartment was dark and disturbingly slim until the short fellow turned on the light and it became a pleasant and welcoming sight of warm browns and muted reds instead. "I'm home," he called softly ahead, then paused to wait for something, before shrugging at the lack of response and turning to take off his bag and putting it down and shrugging out of his coat to hang on the lower of the pair of coat racks. There was a coat on the upper rack, that must belong to someone taller than him, along with a scarf that looked fairly used. Tamislin touched it, apparently out of habit, before pointing the Detective into what was an almost cozy livingroom and kitchen combination.

The left side seemed to comprise mostly of two large if slightly old and obviously used bookcases, standing snugly side to side, stuffed with books in a wide range of topics, and unfinished homework on the low table near a painfully second hand couch full of coffee stains.

There was a pillow on the ground, as well as a book that lay open somewhere in the middle, and appeared to have pictures of plants in them, and a pencil that must have rolled away slightly, discarded on the horribly grass-coloured rug that covered the wooden floor around the table.

The kitchen was less cluttered with two chairs that were fitted tightly against the thin table and a barstool, that stood closer to the sink and kitchenette. Tamislin would
 

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