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 Posted: Mon Nov 18, 2013 12:01 pm
Prompt 5: Laundry Day Prompt 5: Laundry day ] It is the infamous laundry day, or well basically, the laundry machines are up and working - but as you get there of course, they miraculously break down. Now you have to do all your laundry by hand, and by hand, since the water faucets are also down, it means go to the beach, use your accumulated soap, and scrub away, while making sure mermaids don't run away with your clothes. Good luck...
For now, he was in a slightly too-small shirt with the words "If you believe in telekinesis, raise my hand" printed on the front and a pair of very worn-out brown pants with some crude patching done over the a**, between the thighs, and over both knees. The shirt wasn't his, originally. The pants, he'd had for a very long time, and with no one to help him fix them and no money to buy new ones he'd worked at keeping them together. Hence the kevlar thread. Harland smiled to himself as he scooped water up with a cup, filling a small basin, and then another small basin. He'd have to wash his laundry thoroughly with cold water, but honestly this was pretty much what he'd been doing since he arrived here.
He had never figured out where the damn laundry machines were; he always seemed to get turned around. Harland whistled to himself cheerfully as he scrubbed, his calloused hands impervious to the water and the soap, though he wished it was hot water. In fact, he kind of wished he had a shower running, just about now. It would help him think.
☆≼Don't even think about it, I was enjoying the sunlight and the peace,≽ Coyote hissed at Harland, mentally.
"Think about what, showerin'? I can't say I see where the horror is in that; you've been stuck in me since I got ye, can't imagine it's become so much more've a trial since then," Harland replied, something between amusement and befuddlement adorning his warm features.
Coyote was, however, simply voicing his displeasure with the company that had arrived.
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Posted: Mon Nov 18, 2013 9:12 pm
Ian had spent the past ten minutes arguing with Naomi.
{ You've been ignoring me. }
I have not.
{ That was not an argument, that was a statement; a fact. }
"You're overreacting," said Ian aloud, absently sifting through a rather large pile of what apparently was dirty laundry sitting on top of his bed. At some point in time, earlier that morning, he'd gone to the laundry room (finally) only to discover that it was currently broken. And, swearing profusely, Ian had stomped back to his room with his arms full of clothes and promptly heaped them on his bed.
"I haven't been ignoring you, I've been busy. There is, in fact, a difference."
He dumped a pair of dirty socks into the pile, rolling his eyes at Naomi's gasp of indignation that was currently resounding in his ears. Then he reached for a bag, stuffed as many clothes as possible into it (and nearly breaking it in the process) before exiting his room and heading down towards the beach.
{ You're missing the point. }
Honey, there is no point, other than you're annoyed, and I'd rather not deal with your disapproval yet again.
She didn't answer him, merely huffed into silence, and Ian stuck his free hand into the pocket of his well worn jeans, making his way across the quad towards the ocean. Which, as he soon discovered, was occupied by a familiar cowboy. Ian slowed his steps, approaching quietly and just in time to hear the tail end of Harland's conversation.
"Something wrong with showering, cowboy?" Ian asked lightly, stopping behind him.
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Posted: Wed Nov 20, 2013 5:58 am
Harland stood, startled, knocking his shin into the basin of water and biting on the inside of his cheek so he wouldn't curse. His face grew bright red. "Dia duit, a dhiabhal," Harland said, "Afternoon to ye, Ian, an' there's nothin inherently wrong with showerin--" Harland mentally squinted at himself. "What I mean to say's I really like it. I was just arguin with Coyote again," Harland admitted. Smooth.
☆≼I am going to sleep. Wake me when you are done being charming.≽
I don't think ye actually sleep, Harland said, skeptical of Coyote. Also kind of indifferent.
"Here to do your laundry?" Harland asked. "Oh, before I forget, made this and it's yours 'n all," Harland said, turning his back on Ian for a moment. His scarred and calloused fingers undoing the clasp of the bracelet so that he could hold it out in one fist, turning and offering to drop whatever it was into Ian's palm.
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Posted: Wed Nov 20, 2013 10:01 pm
Ian said nothing throughout all of Harland's stammered explanations, merely watched him be flustered with an amused look on his face, clearly highly entertained by everything. He gave a small nod and grinned, reaching out to pat Harland's shoulder in a consoling, of course, of course sort of manner.
"Good to see you know the basics of hygiene," he said conversationally, and leaned back on his heels, the grin widening into a smirk. He gestured towards his own stuffed full bag and said lightly, "I was gonna do it in the laundry room, but apparently that's out of the question today. Wasn't expecting company, though," he added, tilting his head in Harland's direction.
Ian winked. "Good to know I won't have to suffer alone in my chores."
He dropped the bag of laundry down at his feet and then gave Harland - or rather, his back - a questioning sort of look, brows furrowing together. Automatically he reached out a hand to accept the "something," though it took him a moment to grasp just what it was. Ian lifted his hand up, his eyes flickering towards the bracelet with a sort of surprised silence.
"...well," he said, and then looked up at Harland, smiling. "This certainly is a surprise. This is great."
He fiddled with the bracelet, and twisted it around his own wrist, right beside the other he wore, tugging it into place and looking at it with a sort of satisfaction before his gaze moved back to Harland. There was a strange sort of pleasure on his face.
"Thanks, cowboy."
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Posted: Fri Nov 22, 2013 12:05 pm
Harland nodded. "Mhmm, it's not much fun to do unpleasant work alone," he said, "and I always love company." Harland beamed at Ian, and reached up to tip his cowboy hat to the man.
"Don't mention it-- I kept findin' all those shells 'n I thought what a nice bracelet it'd make-- not the most impressively testosterone-laden of my thoughts, admittedly," Harland said, his voice growing more and more mumbled as he reached the end of his sentence. "Anyhow, do ye know know to do laundry this way? Try not t' get soap in the water source," he cautioned. It was a pet peeve of his that anyone would allow their dirty soapy water to rejoin the wildlife habitat.
Harland set back to cleaning his things. "Ian, a dhiabhal, I'm not much for keepin' secrets and I'm a pretty simple man-- I haven't seen ye around lately, so I just wanted to say... that night, I was all myself, I remember it and I'll likely never forget."
He didn't look up, or stop cleaning; he didn't get emotional, or betray himself with an expression beyond neutral interest in his laundry. "What it amounts to is I wanted t' relieve ye of that one promise, when ye said maybe the valentine thing'd work out. Wouldn't be honourable if I reminded ye in any other way, so I'm sayin' now that I'm not interested in bein' your valentine any more, ye ken?"
☆≼Cowboy, aren't you being a little rash? Assuming things, even?≽
Had to be done, Coyote.
"Now, no offense Ian, but do ye think ye're even domestic enough to clean that yerself? That's quite a collection ye've got there, if you don't mind me sayin' so," Harland did look at Ian now, and tipped his hat, winking. He was smiling widely. "I'm not one to tell my friends when they're startin' t' smell funny, so I'd rather n** this one in the bud-- and n**, it does," he added, teasing.
☆≼Hey, sheriff. I'm sorry about that,≽ Coyote said. ☆≼I can feel how it felt to work it out, I know what that's like-- I wasn't always heartless.≽
Harland tried not to let his expression change, and he gripped his buoyant personality firmly. It's just a small thing, Coyote. No need to let it get us down. An' it's not like we'll ever have to cover this again, now-- laid to rest, settled, let go. Is there anythin' quite so beautiful?
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Posted: Fri Nov 22, 2013 9:12 pm
Ian was still fiddling with the bracelet, reaching to tug at it and make sure it was secure. A small, barking laugh escaped his throat, his eyes flickering back to Harland as Ian said, "Ain't nothing wrong with thinking that way. Anyways," He waved a hand. "I always thought that the whole gender stereotype thing was a load of crap. If you wanna make a bracelet, you damn well make a bracelet if you want to. I see absolutely nothing wrong with that, or think it's less testosterone filled."
But he didn't miss the shift in languages, the phrase that was starting to become a familiar moniker to him. Ian's hand stilled on the bracelet and he lifted his head up to study Harland - or rather, his back, his broad shoulders. Something flickered across Ian's gaze - something a little darker, a little unclear, half shadowed - but it soon passed, hardly noticeable except for the presence already inside of his head.
One brow rose. "You're 'relieving me?'" Ian repeated, rolling the words over on his tongue contemplatively. "Huh. What a strange turn of phrase, cowboy."
He had the strange sensation that he was being dumped without ever having dated, which was simultaneously annoying and amusing all at once. Ian shifted from one foot to the other, absently tugging at both of his bracelets now as he mulled over what had just been said. A part of him was suddenly panicked that someone had spilled the beans about him and Shiloh, which would have been very bad, but perhaps Harland was just assuming without knowing.
Which was actually rather sad. Ian's expression softened a little.
Taking a step towards Harland, Ian squatted down beside him, leaning to look at him. "Why do I get the feeling you just told me I stink?" he asked with a small laugh, but then his face straightened, Ian smiling. "Listen, cowboy - for what it's worth, you're sweet and you're fun and you're pretty hot, so I hope you find someone willing to be your Valentine pretty fast, okay?"
He reached out a hand and patted Harland's shoulder before leaning back, plunking down in the sand and dragging his bag of laundry towards him. "Seriously, dude. I wanna know all the dirty details when you find yourself a pretty little cowgirl to play rodeo with. Or a pretty little cowboy," he added with a thoughtful smirk, carelessly tossing a shirt over his shoulder.
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Posted: Sun Nov 24, 2013 6:16 am
Sure, someone, somewhere might consider Harland Leander Belle to be smart, but in this moment he wasn't exactly a shining testament to those people. In fact, he'd essentially gone on assumptions alone; of course he couldn't know anything about Shiloh, or if he was even right. In this particular case, his conclusion was more a leap of faith than anything else. And a hope for the future; he was looking forward to days where he didn't wish for things to work out. He would go back to studying. Mainly he was burning the bridge that had sneakily built itself inside him before he tried to cross it. It wasn't terribly brave of him.
"Because I did, probably," he admitted, soberly, when Ian suggested Harland'd just told him he did not smell terribly good. He winked at Ian, pretending to man-preen, "A dhiabhal, I am the best date I could hope for," he said, "now I've jost got to print all that on a business card 'n hand it out: Harland Leander Belle; sweet, fun, pretty hot. Call Ian for references."
Harland tipped his hat at the man, and smiled at him when he patted his shoulder. Harland was taking everything in stride. He'd have to take a long shower after this, though. He didn't even know what had possessed him to say so much; for weeks he'd just wanted to give Ian the bracelet, never finding a chance. He supposed that time had given doubt a chance to roost in his heart.
"Two things, a dhiabhal; three, maybe: I don't much like women, as far as I've noticed-- and I don't kiss 'n tell; if I did, I'm sure it'd be enough to make even you blush. Ye don't know what you're missin'," he suggested, flexing. He laughed at himself.
☆≼You'd better find someone to be your valentine, because I am not going to volunteer. For the record.≽
Duly noted. Harland replied, as he took a brief laundry break to stretch and survey Ian's laundry prowess. Or lack thereof.
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Posted: Sun Nov 24, 2013 12:58 pm
Ian shoved aside several pieces of clothing, digging around to find his more well worn shirts to wash first. He made a face. "You're totally not nice, then, telling me I stink," he complained, but it was good natured, Ian tossing a red shirt into the same pile as a blue one. "But I can definitely vouch for you, cowboy, whether you need it or not."
He'd already been under the impression of the first admission from Harland. It wasn't like it was obvious, or Harland went around acting a certain way - but his reactions to Ian's initial flirtations and the way he carried himself had given Ian suspicion that they were more similar in some regards than others. It didn't surprise him that he swung that way, but it did surprise him a little at the open admission, Ian raising an eyebrow.
"Well, you're certainly no fun," he said with a mock pout, reaching for the soap. "And dude, believe me, it's hard to make me blush," he added with a wink. "I've heard it all, I've done half of it, so whatever you do won't make me blush, cowboy."
He crossed his legs beneath him, scrubbing at a particularly hard stain. "We'll just have to find you someone fun, then, someone you can call your own cowboy."
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Posted: Sun Nov 24, 2013 7:44 pm
"My apologies, a dhiabhal. I didn't tell you that you stink, for the record. I believe I merely suggested it," Harland said, brightly. "Still, where've my manners gone."
If Ian had seen him around women, maybe he'd have been fooled a little better; Harland liked to be a gentleman, he liked to be one to just about anyone. It hardly meant he was attracted, though, and it'd gotten him in trouble more than once. He'd definitely had several glasses of various beverages splashed in his face before. So long as it wasn't a hot drink, he was more or less accustomed to it.
Besides, Harland didn't think Ian'd be that shocked in the first place, or he wouldn't have told him. "Now who's not nice? I'm loads of fun," Harland said. Pretty much a lie, actually. Harland was actually quite reasonable in most aspects, and really did spend most of his time researching.
He set all his lovely clean clothing on a metal rack he'd brought with him and set up to dry, letting it drip water onto the sand.He then leaned over Ian to watch the man scrub at a stain, grinning broadly as he watched. "Don't want anyone, a dhiabhal. I'm in love, so why bother?" he asked, with a lopsided smile.
And then he paused for a moment.
He thought about how he had phrased it.
He came to certain conclusions. And then he blurted out:
"Not with you! Not that you're not lovable, I just meant--" Harland was, of course, bright red again. "Someone a long time ago-- please let the lord strike me down here," he added, shutting his eyes and squinting up at the sun, dramatically raising his arms to the sky.
"Or fairies. Or an egyptian curse. Whatever ye believe is most likely t' strike me down," he muttered.
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Posted: Mon Nov 25, 2013 3:07 pm
Ian had been following Harland quite well for the most part, at least until the I'm in love part of his sentence. And then he had stopped what he was doing because, his hands freezing in motion, because if that meant what he thought it meant, if that statement was directed towards himself, then he was going to have to do what he always did in these situations, which was cut off all ties.
It was easier to push people out then let them in, after all.
But then Harland backtracked rapidly and Ian just watched him, an eyebrow raised as he tried to fight the amusement that was growing on his face, adopting a curious and oh, really? expression. He turned a shirt over in his hands and gave a little nod, looking past Harland at the ocean that waved back and forth, side to side.
"Well, you dodged a bullet there, my friend," Ian said, after a moment, and turned back, grinning at Harland. "I'm a pretty terrible person, and I've taken myself off the market currently, seeing as how I'm not worth all of the trouble I come with."
He tossed another shirt aside. "You gonna tell me about this past love of yours, or what?"
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Posted: Tue Nov 26, 2013 4:02 pm
Obviously, it hadn't gone unnoticed that Ian had tensed up. Harland really hadn't meant to startle him; it hadn't even occurred to him at first that it could be misconstrued that way. He'd barely spent any time with the man; how could he be in love already? Though he supposed sometimes people did say and do that.
"I'm sure you should have more faith in yourself than that," Harland replied, smiling widely. "I'll keep ye out of trouble, a dhiabhal," he half-promised: a promise, because he meant it, but only half because he doubted he could keep someone he fondly called devil from getting in trouble. "Ye know, if there's a bar fight 'n all, I'll get your back," he said, with a wink at Ian's general direction.
Harland leaned back in the sand; he'd long since laid out his meager collection of clean clothing to dry. He only owned something like two shirts and three pairs of pants, after all. "Nothin' much to tell, I figure," he said, shading his eyes with his hat. "Auberon. Saw what I did, wasn't so lucky; he got committed. That's where he..." Harland trailed off, suddenly puzzled. He saw Auberon's hand slipping out of his reach, and at the last second he caught it. But if he caught it, where were the memories of Auberon after that day?
Harland pushed the doubt away. "Must've lost touch," he said. "His eyes always made him look bewitched,"
Harland added, "unearthly. The colour, and how he looked hunted."
"Maybe there'll be room in my heart some day, but I'm not interested much now," he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up.
I might have considered you, he thought silently, amused by the fact that once in the recent past he really would have. He was pretty content, now, though. It was as if he'd been set free.
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Posted: Wed Nov 27, 2013 8:10 am
Ian smirked. "I don't get into trouble, trouble seems to have a habit of finding me, cowboy," he said breezily, waving a hand in a sort of noncommittal way. "But I do appreciate your willingness to stand beside me in a bar fight," he added, the smirk widening. "Though that would mean we'd have to find a bar to get into a fight at."
He sorted through his pile again, frowning slightly - there were too many clothes for his liking - and shoved several off of his lap and into the sand, not particularly caring if they got even dirtier that way. His head was slightly slanted towards Harland, and Ian said lightly, "Auberon, eh? so you fell in love with the king of the fairylands? How ironic."
The teasing was gentle, not mocking, and Ian slanted a curious gaze towards the other. "A strange definition," he said, and then shrugged, Patrick's face flashing in front of his vision unbidden. Patrick had had haunted eyes too, dark and sad even when the rest of his expression had been pleasant. "But not a bad one."
Ian tossed another shirt aside. "Maybe that's a good thing," he said grandly. "Your heart is a thing to be kept safe, so it's not worth the trouble anyway."
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Posted: Sat Dec 07, 2013 1:46 pm
"If only there was a bar on th' island," Harland lamented, with a lopsided smile. "Or I had more whiskey. Damn those portals-- excuse my language," he added, quickly, with a tip of his hat.
Harland was busy relaxing, and didn't really look up until he heard the sound of Ian's clothing hitting sand? He kept himself from telling Ian how to wash the clothing more efficiently, and silently supposed Ian would get rashes from folded sand at some point. Oh well. Nothing for it. Who'd apply the balm, he wondered? Harland smiled to himself. Someone not-him. "He was a poor thing, wish I coulda saved 'im," Harland said, his smile turning cold.
Harland laughed and shook his head, sitting up, putting his hat on his head. He was about to reply to Ian, when he turned to face him suddenly, a ridiculous huge grin across his face. Very seriously, he said, "I believe... in a thing called love."
He reached one hand up and placed it against his chest. "Just listen to the rhythm of my heart. There's a chance we could make it now..." he started to sing, almost as though he was at a bar, raising an invisible pint. "We'll be rockin' till the sun goes down," he finished. He got quiet, and just sat there, smiling at Ian, unabashedly.
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Posted: Mon Dec 09, 2013 2:29 pm
“Sadly,” said Ian, with a sideways glance at Harland and a noncommittal wave of his hand. “There is, demonstrably, no such thing as a bar on this ridiculous place, which means we get to just suffer soberly, which is pretty annoying. And,” he added, the grin widening to a full-on smirk, “I don’t really give a ******** about language, cowboy. You might be a nice, handsome gentleman and all, but unfortunately I’m a pretty terrible b*****d.”
His hands, however, stilled a little at Harland’s words, flashes of Patrick’s face appearing in Ian’s mind. “Yeah, man,” he said, and continued working, though he had looked away from Harland now, some of the edge gone from his smirk. “We all just wanna save those people, but whether or not we do is another story, isn’t it?”
He wasn’t about to start acting maudlin over this now, so Ian shuffled his clothes a bit more and was about to change the subject when he saw the look on Harland’s face. “What,” Ian said, slightly bemused, but then Harland began singing, and Ian’s face turned from suspicious to exasperated. He rolled his eyes, balled up a shirt, and tossed it at Harland’s face.
“You’re a terrible singer,” he said exaggeratedly, which wasn’t true, but that was beside the point. “Sing that to your next boyfriend, I’m sure he’ll love it.”
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Posted: Wed Dec 11, 2013 8:57 pm
Harland still wasn't about to swear. Or anything close to it. "Well, if it's all the same a dhiabhal, it does me good not t' say anythin' so crude if I can help it," Harland replied, shrugging one shoulder and smiling. "... But thank ye for the compliment." Harland winked. Harland liked winking at Ian. It felt like it was forbidden or something, which was in the end very unfortunately exciting.
"'s mine now!" Harland said, whooping as he grabbed hold of the shirt that had been lobbed at his face, and ran off with it down the beach.
Leaving all his laundry where it had been drying; as he ran away, he yelled: "Ye can't make me date anyone, a dhiabhal! I am free as a bird! I'll sing t' whoever I please!" He was also laughing pretty hard.
He didn't actually look like he had any intention of stopping. Or returning.
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