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 Posted: Wed Jun 08, 2011 10:23 am
There were people -- dedicated people, enthusiastic or devoted or determined -- who went out jogging every morning at six AM. These were the people who came dressed in special track wear, or too-short shorts, who had watches and devices to track their pulse and steps fallen, with special running shoes and knee braces. They stretched before they kicked into motion, and sometimes they paused to stretch again after a few laps. They drank constant water.
This was not Warwick.
Warwick came to the park to run for two reasons: the first was because it was a beautiful afternoon, and the idea of staying cooped up back at home, or ever around the tattoo parlor, was mind-numbing and horrible. The second was because he had, in fact, been cooped up too much recently, had been sitting around too much recently, the shockingly-long winter months left him feeling twitchy and on edge.
So he was at the park, not carefully jogging and tracking his movements, counting heartbeats and pacing himself, but taking off full-tilt down paths of people who scowled and glared after him, and Warwick entirely oblivious toward the animosity.
Fifteen minutes, twenty, and he was left sweating from the heat, a little bit breathless, and feeling about a hundred times better. His limbs weren't jelly, at least, he didn't push himself that hard, but he was tired enough that when he tumbled down onto a bench beside an unfamiliar fellow-jogger, it was boneless. And still thoughtlessly graceful.
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Posted: Wed Jun 08, 2011 11:37 am
Huffing out a breath or two, she sat on the bench alone for a little while. She did not do this often, not being hugely fond of being covered in sweat or smelling worse than her aunts dirty sock pile. It was something she did only when she needed to clear her mind, forget everything and only listen to the sound of her heartbeat in her ears and her breath from her lips. Being left alone to think sometimes was her worst enemy, it made her think of things she did not need. Idea's she need not have. She had not been filling her energy quota either....
Leaning back in the wooden bench it creaked under her as she lifted one leg to cross it over the other. She was dressed in sweat pants and a simple sports bra- something that was comfortable to run in. Her hair was pulled back, and always, out of her face. But this time, she also had her bangs tucked behind her ears. Ipod earbuds played music that worked on making her keep going. Catchy little quick tunes. It was not until she actually -felt- someone sit next to her that she jumped out of her 'ignoring the world' state and turned her bright pink eyes his direction. She would never admit her heartbeat might have picked up even more for a split second out of being startled. Looking him up and down once, she scooted a little away to put more space between them. Both for her own personal space issues... and he looked as if he stunk as bad as she was sure she did. She did not need even more.
Looking forward once more... she couldn't help but comment. "....So your a human canvas?" Of course she meant the tattoos, he was covered with them!
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Posted: Wed Jun 08, 2011 11:59 am
"...huh?" A blink, another deep breath drawn in, and then his own eyes settled on her -- mildly curious, as if he hadn't taken note of her before. After a moment, though, he smiled; a creeping smile, guileless and absent, fingers rifling through the mess of wildly colored hair. It was damp, wild, dark from his brief sprinting session.
And then it clicked, his attention drawn to the winding of stars down his arm, palm turned out to show more of the ink. It wasn't that he was unused to people asking about them -- it was just that they were so familiar, many of them so old, that he could forget about them. It was only strangers who suddenly found them fascinating.
Well, not only strangers. But they were usually the only ones who asked.
"Oh, well, yeah." His accent was decisively Australian, the relaxed sound of his vowels marking him as a foreigner. "I guess I am at that. It, uh, it's like a costume that goes everywhere with you."
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Posted: Wed Jun 08, 2011 12:56 pm
"So you are a foreign piece of moving art." She mused, suddenly popping out one of the ear buds from the ear closest to him. When she had called him a walking art piece, she had turned the music down on her headphones in her pocket. If she hadn't, she would have never heard his reply.
Her breathing was still ragged, her heartbeat only calmed down slightly, she gave him a bit of a tired smirk. "So would i call you Picasso or Durer?" She could not really place his accent, partially because when he spoke she still had the earbuds in.
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Posted: Wed Jun 08, 2011 2:39 pm
Warwick opened his mouth to answer, and then snapped it closed again. His immediate reaction was 'Picasso or who?' but he tried not to look like a complete idiot at first meeting, so he'd play along, pretend he knew who the second name was there...
After a moment's rooting and fumbling, a fingertip absently tracing the outlines of the necklace around his wrist, he blinked up at her again. Oddly flustered, in this moment, one-on one, he wiggled his eyebrows and went for clever.
"I didn't draw them or anything, so I guess I'm more like the lady with her eyes on the wrong side and the big nose..." His hands moved as he spoke: traced out the shape of a cubist painting, his face turned. Animated. "Not the artist but the weird-as-shite artwork."
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Posted: Sat Jun 11, 2011 6:22 pm
His reaction had caused her to pause, stare.... and think. Big nose artwork? There was a lot of pictures with the subject having big noses... hell there were a lot of people WITH big noses. For all she knew he was talking about a photograph... His reaction though, all the same? Got a rare reaction out of her from a total stranger- a laugh. While short and sounded more like a cough, she knew it for what it was.
Looking at his face intently before she spoke, her tone was hinting more at amusement than seriousness."I think your about right... you do have a big enough trumpet for it, and if you turned your eyes a liitttlllee further to the side... it might be a perfect match. Though i think you need to add a little color to those tats before you try it." They were afterall, at least the ones she could see, all black and white. peculiar... a lot of the tattoos she had seen had involved color. At least some where.
"... so how many of those battle scars you have warring with a ink pen?" She meant the tattoos of course.
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Posted: Sun Jun 12, 2011 8:36 am
Words that could have been insulting were easily made light of; instead of taking offense, Warwick pulled a face at her comments, as if he was trying to warp his features into one of Picasso's most cubist pieces. An ear over here, a nose over there, his mouth segmented into pieces -- well, it wasn't something that could actually come to light in the real world, but Warwick was good at funny faces.
The question brought him back into focus, blinking more seriously. He hesitated before he replied, eyes flicking around them in a quick circle to make sure that the coast was clear. Didn't want any children watching, not really. Then he rolled up to stand, hiking his shirt up almost to the shoulder to show the ink down his left side -- and tugging down the hem of his shorts just a little to show her there was more under there.
He twisted as he spoke; more down his back, across his shoulder. "I like to think of it as one big piece, but it's been...seven or eight years."
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Posted: Wed Jun 15, 2011 4:35 pm
Toki was not really one to mind seeign a little skin, so when he hiked his shirt up she leaned over and looked curiously at him... "Nice fox." She had not seen that one with his shirt on. Though, once he started to pull the corner of his pants down, she pulled back up with a frown. "I dont mind some skin but please, for formalities sake and my eyes, keep the pants on ok?" She was no two cent whore. Not that she had never seen a man naked, but she would rather not at the given moment.
Changing the subject she signed, and using a backwards momentum lifted herself to her feet once more. "Your left leg there though seems a bit naked, you should put something there maybe to complete it." She paused... thinking it over. For once, maybe she could like some company. He seemed to be someone she could get along with. A smirtk. "Run with me? If you can keep up."
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Posted: Thu Jun 16, 2011 11:04 am
Her reaction made Warwick blink, confusion fading slowly toward horror and chagrin. He hadn't been about to do anything untoward; he was just showing her a bit more of the tattoos. If Toki thought he'd intended more than that, the sudden and surprising blossom of a blush across his cheeks, darkening his ears especially, would wipe that thought right out of her head. Fumbling for a reply, he dropped the hem of his shirt back down, abruptly awkward where he stood instead of comfortable in his own skin.
The subject change was welcome. He made a faint sound, licked his lips, and then went for words instead. "Uh. You're...you're probably smart enough not to sprint, so sure."
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Posted: Mon Aug 01, 2011 11:09 am
She couldn't help it, her own grin blossomed across her face as she caught sight of the blush on his face. Aw, he was shy. She found that adorable, oddly enough. She resisted the urge to tease more... for now.
"Sprinting in this heat? Must be a damn fool to even try such a thing. No... slow pace is good for me." She kept one ear bud in, but made sure to keep the one that had none towards the other guy while they jogged. Her breathing was normal again... but after a little bit she would find her breath becoming laborious.
Still, that hint of competitive nature kept her a step ahead. "... So, why leave one leg bare?"
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Posted: Thu Aug 04, 2011 6:32 am
Warwick jogged easily, now that he wasn't about exploding with pent-up energy. No labored breathing or hard flush, he did this often enough to be comfortable with it, and more importantly, to keep up. The question made him blink, face tipped back toward her, drawing in a careful breath.
"...um. Because tattoos are expensive." It came with a sudden smile. That might have been a joe.
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Posted: Mon Oct 17, 2011 7:25 am
She was silent for some time, even after he spoke. She jogged in silence, her breathing being controlled and yet over time she knew would become labored again. Once she felt comfortable enough to speak again, she looked over to her side briefly before turning back to the sidewalks ahead.
She smiled at the small joke. "Was that sarcasm?" She gave a laugh, putting on a small burst of speed before realizing she had, and slowing back down.
"...So. Real reason was you just did not want to or... were you serious about the no pay no ink deal?"
Maybe he just wanted to be different, she could understand that. "What do you do for a living? School? Job?"
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Posted: Tue Oct 18, 2011 9:31 am
Warwick made a softly amused sound, shoulders hiked in his jog and a familiar answer on the tip of his tongue:
"I perform, and no, doesn't pay well. Mostly the park, now. Dunno where when it gets cold..." He answered this question a lot, and he grinned at her as he braced for more questions, the usual interrogation. What kind of performance? You can do that? The slow realization that he had neither a college nor a completed high school education. In his experience, most people had a hard time wrapping their heads around that kind of nomadic life.
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