It was only five pm, but already the town was covered in a veil of darkness. That was typical enough in the cold winter, when days died young and nights came early, but it was even worse now. Not too far away from the Southern California town, there had been a rather large fire, consuming everything in its path. Although the last embers had been stamped out, the clouds of smoke still covered the sky. Even most of the night people clutched handkerchiefs to their mouths, to protect their lungs against the smoke, as they went about their business. Mostly, their business seemed to consist of milling about and trying to get any last minute Christmas shopping finished with.
Empty crisp packets, forgotten candy wrappers, and Styrofoam cups from the nearby café whirled in the winter wind like dead leaves. Luckier wind got to whisk through peaceful valleys, or wind through forests, or even just roar across tundras. The city did horrible things to wind. This particular wind idled through a dark street and probably either got into some kind of tourist trap or wandered into an alleyway where it was mugged and beaten. On its way to be mugged and beaten, it idled past a particular cafe… Actually, it looked like the café to end all cafes. It was pink. In fact, it was extremely pink.
There probably were other distinguishing features about it, but they weren’t easy to notice. The sheer pinkosity and sparklotry of the café dominated any other aspect of it. The little tables outside even had tiny little doilies on it, which no doubt contributed to the forgotten street trash in the area. In short, it was the type of place that no one would want to go to ever, except, perhaps for desperate teenage girls who were attempting to break their boyfriend’s spirits. This was actually a large part of its attraction to one person in particular, who didn’t much care for other people at all. Kail Uí Ciardha, once a Slayer and destroyer of all manner of otherworldly creatures, pushed the door open; the little bells made a merry tune, which he contrived to ignore, as it rather ruined the image that he went through so much trouble to create.
That image was, of course, one that was very easy to forget. Admittedly, he did dress with a certain amount of style, but his clothes were decidedly normal and not at all the sort you’d expect to see on someone who had once been a Slayer. That had been years ago, though… and Kail did his best to forget all about it. Clad in simple jeans, a shirt, and one of those long swishy-trenchcoats----yes, that was stereotypical, but he liked his swooshy coat---he crossed the café with a certain amount of elegance that would have had girls swooning, if there had been any to see. As it was, the only person on duty was a man, and therefore slightly less inclined to swoon than a lovely lady. But, he did smile at the sight of the Slayer.
“Hey, Kail. Your usual, right? Your chair outside is all ready for you. Oh, and I thought you might like to see this…” the one employee slid a newspaper across the counter to the other man.
“Yeah, just the usual. Hot chocolate with whipped cream,” Kail agreed easily, his voice lightly laced with the lilt of his homeland, Ireland. He gave the paper a bemused glance, but accepted it without really thinking about it. Ah well… might as well do the crossword or something. Once his drink was done and paid for, he exited the café with the same practiced elegance that any Slayer had. Ah… and there was his table, right there. Admittedly, there was a doily on it, but that was easily disposed of in a conveniently located trashcan. Sitting down, Kail finally took a sip of his hot chocolate and looked at the newspaper.
…
Alright, maybe he didn’t do everything elegantly, but the spit-take was pretty hilarious as he sprayed hot chocolate all over the nice new newspaper. It was quite a nice picture of him, actually. The headline, in bold letters, read, “IN THE ASHES OF TRAGEDY, A HERO EMERGES”. Apparently, people loved that stuff. In the aftermath of the wildfires of South California, everyone was desperate for some sort of hero. The picture under the headlines showed a young man with another thrown over his shoulders, marching from a burning house. From the looks of him, he had the sort of slender body with smooth muscles right under the skin. A short height---maybe five foot six or around there--- furthered the heroic image that people adored so much. Black wavy hair ended just below his earlobes, accenting his pale skin and delicate features. But, it was his eyes that demanded the most attention of all. A haunting, tantalizing emerald, vaguely slanted yet wide, mysterious in their changing hues, rimmed with long, thick black lashes and set beneath dark brows that perfectly followed their slight upward tilt. Those eyes perfectly reflected the flames, showing very little fear in the face of the fires all around.
Kail stared for several moments in desperation, praying that the picture would change. The only thing that changed was that it became soggier as the hot chocolate soaked into the cheap paper. With a growl, he threw the paper down and pulled out his cell phone instead, wondering why people went through such an effort to ruin his life. Yes, he remembered saving the man’s life. He also distinctly recalled wishing to remain anonymous, just to prevent this sort of thing from happening. The last thing he wanted was to become some sort of an icon, something that people could gather around. All he wanted to do was live quietly.
At least, that’s what he told himself…
The number was easy to find, as it was nicely listed within the papers. Any complaints? Call ‘em. And he had one helluva complaint… “What the ******** is my picture doing in the paper?!” he demanded, attracting the stares of passersby. Grumbling to himself, he covered his face, trying hard not to look like himself. This wasn’t very easy, because being himself was one of those things that he was damned good at.
The editor on the other line was more bemused than anything else.
“We’ve sold more of this edition than any other!” The voice on the other end of the phone exclaimed happily, clearly confused why someone wouldn’t want to be famous. “There’s even talk of having your picture around the country, Mr. Uí Ciardha…”
Kail winced, both at the idea of having his picture slathered across the country and at the mispronunciation of his name. He focused on the more important of the two. National pride could come later. “You don’t understand, Mr. Brown… I can’t have my picture taken. No, it’s not a religious thing. I’m atheist…”
“Atheist? Are you aware that the man you saved was a preacher?” Now Mr. Brown was even more excited. Readers of liberal California loved this even more than heroics.
That simply brought a sigh to Kail’s lips and he reached for his hot chocolate, suddenly getting the feeling that this would be a long day. “No, I wasn’t. That doesn’t matter. I would’ve saved him anyway, because someone had to do it.”
“Would you consider giving an interview? I know you refused to give one earlier, but maybe… you wouldn’t even let us print your name. The readers loved that, by the way, even if everyone recognized you…”
The ex-Slayer jumped on that, saying, “That’s just the problem. Everyone recognized me. See, I’m…”
“Just a small town music teacher, I know, I know. Don’t worry! You’ll be more known soon. You know, I managed to track down some of your old CDs! Really very impressive… do you still play?”
“FOR THE LOVE OF ********, MAN!! Listen to me!!” Kail’s temper broke and he yelled into the phone, no doubt scaring the poor editor out of his wits. Oh, and attracting the attention of just about everyone. “I am part of a witness protection program,” he said desperately. Well, it wasn’t a complete lie. It was pretty close to the truth. “And you’ve endangered my life by putting that picture into your paper. The… the person who is after me wants me dead.”
The editor on the other end was amazed. He had never imagined such a thing happening in his home town, where he had been born and raised. Also, he mentally took a few points away from Kail for the language. Kids should NEVER listen to such things. “I-I had no idea! I’m very sorry… if you had only just mentioned this when the pi…”
Kail cut him off with a snarl. “I would have mentioned it, but, if you’ll remember, I was a little busy saving someone’s life! I couldn’t be bothered with pretty pictures! Stop printing them NOW and maybe everything will be ok…” he poked his cell phone a good deal more violently than necessary and fumed silently at the state of the world, where people would rather take pictures of him instead of saving someone’s life. It wasn’t long before his glare was turned on anyone who had stopped to stare at him and, for a few brief moments, the most commonly heard phrase was, ‘come on, sweetie, don’t look at him…’ or something along those lines.
No longer having the appetite for his usual hot chocolate, he disposed of the rest of it in the conveniently-located trashcan and continued on his way, wondering what he should do. It had been a long time since he’d been a Slayer… several years, ever since he had shattered his wrist. He flexed his fingers now, testing them. A bit stiff, but they could shoot a gun, if he had to. And he never went anywhere without a gun. Except school, obviously, but that hardly counted. It was during the daytime.
And it was nighttime now.
Ooc| This is an introduction for Ashes, Ashes type role play. <3 It was randomly selected to give you an idea of what my introductions are like.
200
200
200
