Please note this is being played as humans and originally was on IMs
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Cross stood, his back against his Ford pickup, a rusted knife in his hands. His dark hair had been sun bleached from years in the sun, a dark, crisp tan on every visible part of his skin.. and maybe elsewhere. A dark silver cross hung from one ear, an accent against his russet skin. He shifted, the chain coiled around his waist like a belt clanking together. The dirt and bleach stains on his cuffs were hardly noticeable in the shadows. Cross's eyes seemed distant, clouded, and sad, the emerald color seeming dim and.. not entirely there.
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The strawberry blonde girl hurried from the small mom & pop store, frustrated with the small amount of food she was able to get. The thin, pale skinned girl with soft blue eyes and a tiny nose ducked her head down as she hurried through the parking lot. The night air was crisp and warm on her skin but it did nothing to help her mood. It probably darkened it instead. Her argumentative nature was irritated, ready to snap on the next person to even move the wrong way around her. Sighing, she continued her shuffle away from the tiny market.
The girl slipped into a dark brood, focusing on the streak of luck, or un-luck as it was, that she had since childhood. Her name, from her first set of foster parents, was the worst. They had used their unique sense of humor and titled her Zorn Rache, Fury's Vengeance. Yes she was a mean baby, but that was no reason to take it out on her. And then there was the unfortunate nickname when the school kids had learned the origin of the name. Her Nordic looks and German name gave Rache the opportunity to become acquainted with her "grandfather Hitler."
Stumbling on a small, unseen rock, Rache cursed as she threw out her arms to stop the almost inevitable face plant. The bag of over-ripe apples ripped on the rough asphalt and a few tumbled to the feet of a man just leaning against his truck. Glaring, the blonde reached out to pick up the soft fruit.
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Cross didn't even glance at the girl as he reached over and stuck his knife in the wood that framed the top of his truck. He bent over, his eyes on some distant place, and scooped up an apple, then another, and another, reaching behind him and tugging out a cloth bag from his open drivers side door.
He placed them gently in its center, hung the bag from the door, and knelt over to offer his hand to the girl. His eyes finally sliding to the sprawled out frame on the ground. His hand was extended ever so slightly, his fingers ate up with hard work and scars. The ghosts disappearing from his eyes long enough for Cross to level his gaze at her, waiting.
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Going from her hands and knees to just her knees, Rache looked up. And mistakenly caught his gaze. His hunter green eyes felt as if they were piercing her ocean blue orbs. It was creepy yet, instinct said nothing of fearing him. She slipped her small, only slightly callused hand into his large rough paw. The strawberry blonde was unsure of his intentions, but not enough to not ignore the helping hand.
As she stood up, Zorn tried to discreetly look him over. Lately she had gotten a lot of offers from men she knew. You know, the kind of offers a good girl would only be able to stare slack-jawed at. Always turning them down, but her sharp mind was starting to think of the money she could be making. One thing for sure was that if this man asked, there was little chance of her resisting. For the moment.
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Cross hoisted the petite girl to her feet, reaching behind him to grab the bag of apples. He held her steady with his gaze, no thought crossing his eyes. Releasing her hand, he placed the strap in her thin fingers and curled them around its potato sack straps. He stepped back, tilting his head to the side every so slightly. His hands slid in his pocket as he contemplated things, glancing over her shoulder at the sky.
Shifting, he reached around and grabbed his knife from where it stuck out of his truck and slid it back into its sheath. That was tossed in the open drivers side door, all in one easy fluid movement. "So getting acquainted with the ground didn't go as well as you'd have liked I see." He spoke his voice creamy, with a hint of a Louisiana accent. He shifted his shoulders, sliding his hands back into his pockets and looking at her, "Need a lift?"
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The girl looked at the heavier duty bag that now held her apples. It seemed odd to her that a random stranger would be carrying an empty potato sack, but it worked for her. Rache scowled as he brought up her klutziness. Yes she was well acquainted with the ground, but he didn't need to inform the world of it. Looking to the side as she gripped the burlap straps tightly, Rache thought about accepting the ride.
On one hand, he could just be trying to be a good Samaritan. On the other hand, this large man in front of her could be a rapist or a murderer. He had handled that knife far more comfortably than any person she had seen with a small weapon like that. What made up her mind was the thought of walking the three miles in the cool summer night. She shivered just thinking about it. So many holes and rocks on the dirt paths she had to follow. Looking up at him, but avoiding holding his gaze, Rache nodded her consent.
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Cross turned on his heels slightly and pulled open the drivers side door, leaning over and snatched the knife from where it landed. He made it visible that he was locking it in the tool box that rested two feet from the back window of his truck. He glanced over at the girl, "Are you coming?" He asked, grabbing the door with one hand, ready to hop in.
Cross pushed the hair out of his eyes with the hand not resting on the door, glancing away from her. He hoisted himself into the bench seat easily, picking up a bag and chucking it into the bed. It hit the tool box with a few metal clanks, a wrench tumbling out of the two inch gap left open by the zipper. Digging his keys from his pocket, he leaned on the steering wheel and glanced at her, raising one eye brow, waiting.
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The strawberry blonde girl scampered around the front of the truck, not wanting to be left behind. She hoisted her lithe body up into the passenger seat of the cab. The bag off apples nestled on her lap. The long hair, braided down to the small of her back, rested on her shoulder. Before she shut the door, the light glinted off her upper lip piercing and the elephant in her left ear. The metal sound when she did get the door closed made Rache flinch, even though she was expecting the noise. Manners kicked in now and her thin, quiet voice whispered a thank you. There was no accent to her ears, but when you live in California all your life, you really can't tell what a west coast accent is.
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Cross slowed, thinking about directions before pressing his foot to the gas pedal again. He turned down the road she had pointed to, his eyes ajusting to the darkness. Having someone else in his truck felt strange, though he ignored it and kept his body relaxed. The tires of his truck bumped up and down over the lose road, making the truck shake lightly. Having his window crack made his hair blow around his forhead, though he barely paid any mind to it. Music flowed from his speakers, soft, more or less background noise. Cross relaxed suddenly, the tension leaving his body entierly. No one was going to screw tonight up, no hard emotional jabs or memory flashes for him. Mmmmnope.
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Fury's turn >.>
