The rattling of a machine followed a constant tempo, the craftsman pushing down on a lever and causing it to vibrate. He pushed two pieces of fabrics into the machine's opening, binding them together with string. The fabric was of the finest quality, glitter atop white as it shimmered and sparkled when hit at the right angle of the lightbulb within the machine. The rest of the room's lights were off, surrounding the man in darkness while he worked.
As he stopped his peddling to review his work, he was unexpectedly met with the revving sound of a car, along with the loud blasting of music from his neighbors. Such was city life, although he'd hoped to have silence instead. The clamor no longer bothered his work, however it certainly left him with an annoyed expression.
Standing up for the first time in hours, he sluggishly made his way over to his upstairs balcony, sliding open the door outside and making his way over to lean against the railing. Cars zoomed by as people went on about their way; ordinary life that somehow felt different than the life he was used to. Slightly pulling out his phone from his pocket, he checked the time and for any missed calls. 10:34 a.m., 16 missed calls.
"That's great."
He mumbled, stuffing his phone back into his pocket once again. With an elbow on the railing, he leaned forward, watching the many others down below.
"Oh my goodness," Cruncher sighed, nearly stumbling out of the rear service entrance of the bakery. Today's morning rush had swept through the newly-baked products even faster than anticipated, leaving her and the other staff to rock with even more sheetpans and rolls than they usually did; at this point however, she felt silly for expecting today's shift here to be anything easier than other days. At last free to take her only break, Cruncher slumped and leaned against the brick wall of the bakery's adjacent alley. The white baker cap on her head practically melted away from her colorful hair as she removed the close-fitting hat; sweltering heat from the walls of appliances had made sure her beads of sweat were sweating, making the cool breeze outside that much more welcome.
An extra copy of her Clinical Neuroscience course notes stuck out of a pocket in her apron; the sheet of paper had gotten stranded there as she'd been, around four of five in the morning, reviewing anatomical terms before the head chef walked in unexpectedly, asking for more dough to be brought in from the back. Luckily, the professor had extended the deadline of the individual class project, to account for the inadvertently massive annotated bibliographies that the students had been required to do as a part of their presentation research. Today's work was, for Cruncher, complete in about twenty-six minutes exactly, ending with her shift; coursework and reports for tomorrow could be worried about later. Stacking her break just a bit before her part-time shift ended was a particular talent of hers and she enjoyed maximizing her leisure time spent in the brisk alley. Condos and apartments dotted the large street that the bakery sat on, leaving a curious Cruncher wondering how clear the view from up there might be. A bus hissed to a stop just ahead; later, she herself would likely take that same bus route home or to class or to bother her pal. Actually, that sounded pretty good about now.
Rescuing her phone from her apron, and taking care not to let the translucent orange sun charm strap snag on the edge of the pocket, she unlocked the device in a hurry to pull up her most recent text conversation, conveniently and coincidentally with the same person she aimed to bother. "Let's see, let's see..." Cruncher's style of typing was horrendously efficient, despite being of the 'hunt-and-peck' variety-- a fun fact that earned her lighthearted ridicule at times. 'just finished work wanna go hang out???' was the finished product, sent hurtling towards Xyan's phone with the excited press of a button. Cruncher scowled, noticing how much flour she'd let spread all over her phone screen, and quickly tried to clean it off.
"Damn..." Etoah muttered as the nearest taxi missed his wave and drove by.
The city was loud and smothering. It smelled like smoke and gasoline and never stopped rumbling with machinery. He hated it here, but this was where the kids were. The teens he counselled at the shelter. He had seen new bruises on Jared this morning at the meeting, and if his phone wasn't dead he would have called CPS by now.
Overwhelmed, the man took a few steps back and sat on the dirty sidewalk, leaning against the rough concrete wall behind him. Despite all that disgusted him with the city, he could smell the bakery nearby and it made him smile- if only just. Making bread. What a beautiful thing to do with your life. He thought to himself. Etoah took a long breath in, and a longer breath out.
He could just see the rear door opening in the alley across the street as Cruncher exited. Pulling his scuffed, black jean knees up to his chin, he watched her. It was relaxing, to watch the stranger tiredly remove her baker's cap and take out her phone. Etoah wondered what her life was like. Was she happy? Was she safe? Who was she texting? Maybe a friend. Maybe her father she hadn't seen since he'd abandoned her. Maybe she was looking for the nearest Chinese place for lunch. Endless possibilities.
He sighed and looked away, his ghostly eyes following another stranger nearby.
She laughs good-naturedly, taking on a reassuring tone. "If he doesn't want to come with us, we can't force him." Mai explained to a panicked wife regarding her husband, a heavy set older gentleman, who sat on a bench holding his wrist. Her partner loaded the jump kit back into the ambulance as she talked to them. "There's no angulation to it, and he has feeling and blood flow to his hand there as far as we can tell. His vitals are all normal. Of course, we recommend getting that checked out at a hospital, since you've got pinpoint pain. But I won't lie to you, a private vehicle would be a lot less expensive."
After it was all said and done and she had eased the panic, Mai watched wife drive husband off. She looked up and down the street, sort of putting off doing the paperwork for that one. She was sort of hungry. Maybe she would run into the bakery quickly to grab lunch. A nice thing about this versus the military was that she could easily grab food while on duty. Junk food, too.
Mai opened the passenger side door and tipped her partner to where she was going, before shutting the door and going to cross the street. She made eye contact for a second with someone she recognized. A man she had seen before while on duty actually. At the youth shelter on xx street and xx, pretty close to here. She smiled at him and waved, before directing her attention ahead of her almost bumping into a stranger on the crosswalk.
"Oh! Sorry!" She flashed an apologetic grin, nodded, and kept on her way, undoing the collar button of her uniform shirt. It was a warm day.
[attr="class","textie"] It was too early in the morning for this. Denji halfheartly paced down the street ringing her phone once again. [break][break]
"Doo, doo, doo. You have reached the voicemail box of, The Great Ninja. Please leave a-" *beep* [break][break]
Denji sighed as he flicked a cigarette from his jean pockets into his mouth with his other hand as he looked into the windows of the nearby stores. Engineering and Mechanic Bros. No one there. The nearby bar, Mystical Holes. Oh god, he hoped she wasn't in there. The breakfast join, Sengoku Arising. No dice. [break][break]
It wasn't until he crossed the road (and my god, that one car was driving a little too fast as he crossed! Denji tapped the hood and flicked off the driver before continuing his pace) that he saw a young girl being pushed out of Infernal Pan's front door by, was that Vo at the door? [break][break]
"Come onnn, let me have just *hic* one more mimosa, lady." Arisa slurred, wobbling back and forth. [break][break]
All he could do is put a thumb to his head in an attempt to suppress his embarrassment. Denji hurried over to the two beginning to reach for Arisa's hand. " 'Scuse me, Vo." He bit his tongue biting his pride. Yet he could not bring himself to face Vo's eyes. "Hope business is okay this morning." [break][break]
He couldn't bring himself to say a word to Arisa as he moved to support her body. Gently, he grabbed her arm to sling it over his back. Denji attempted to continue moving as fast as possible down the road before Vo could stop them for a lecture or something of the like. [break][break]
[attr="class","burnt"]"Allora che stai facendo? Non so quello che stai facendo," sighed a beleaguered Võ before shooing away her colleague to roll the pasta, or dough, herself. A full tray of pasta balls later, Võ accepted the apology of her co-worker, gesturing 'no harm, no foul'; freed from dough duty, she returned to working the wood-fired oven as was her station. Part of how invaluable Võ was to the kitchen here had to do with how little the heat bothered her. By the estimation of her colleagues, she only ever took breaks to hydrate and maybe munch on an energy bar or two; otherwise, Võ never ceased toiling until the last-last-last order was out, and never a second before. Spearing fresh pizzas out of the oven with the help of a palino was decidedly not what she felt her calling to be, but it so happened to be something she picked up very naturally. Hardly expecting to stay on for more than a few months, Võ found herself occasionally spiritedly discussing the percentage of sea salt in wheat flour for optimal dough strength with anyone daring to suggest that pizza was better as a fast food. There was something to be said for passions picking people, as opposed to the other way around perhaps.
She delicately delivered a ricotta and provolone onto a plate as a commotion arose, calling the attention of her colleagues away from the items they were meant to be preparing. "...Take over, will you? If I'm right, then I'll only be gone a few minutes, okay?" Võ pat her trusted sous chef Quilliam on the back as if she were tagging out; in the interest of looking presentable, she fished out her red uniform ascot from an apron pocket and tied it loosely before exiting the kitchen. The origin of the commotion became clear immediately, leaving a newly disappointed frown on Võ's face. Bottomless mimosas were a welcome addition to the early lunch menu by all, save for the staff; recently, few customers had enjoyed too-too many drinks but no days are guaranteed-- something she impressed upon her co-workers early on. "Okay, step away, step away, allow me," Võ motioned to the wait staff. Identifying this particular customer was easy, be it the color of their hair or the same quizzical combination order that, really, should have tipped Võ off as soon as the kitchen received it. "Arisa, let's get you home before it gets dark this time, shall we?" she asked with a weary but sincere concern.
Stepping out of the Infernal Pan pizzeria premises with Arisa in tow, Võ hoped to flag down a taxi-- though at this time of day, it could prove difficult. Residing in a heated kitchen all day stoking firewood to make delicacies had almost let Võ forget how busy the city street was, at nearly any given moment; not that it was a particular positive. Across the street, an ambulance was parked; a crisis averted perhaps, Võ sighed in relief to herself. A downward nodding tugged at her side, informing Võ of her charge's drowsiness. "Don't fall asleep, Arisa; that is how you get to Hangover City in one fell swoo-" Before she could finish her point, Arisa's relative swooped by, scooping up the lighthearted drunkard-- Võ used her now-free hands to place them on her hips, and for good reason. Denji Amane had practically blitzed through what he felt could pass as a conversation; simply not so!
Võ sighed and watched briefly as he tried carrying Arisa away while also maintaining a semblance of speed; again, not so. Catching up with little more than a brisk walk, the chef leaned in to rest her head on Denji's unoccupied shoulder for a moment. "Conversations usually let the other participant get a word in, you know," chuckled Võ. She kept in lockstep with him, passing by two others at the crosswalk-- both people had definitely stopped by the Infernal Pan before, at least once or twice; M-something and E-something were her best guesses as to their names. "If you're interested in helping business be more okay, you could, after getting Arisa home, stop by the restaurant; have you had anything to eat today? You seem busy, sorta rushed," Võ noted, with a hint of poking fun in her tone. She continued walking with him, until he'd stop and talk to her properly; it was certainly one of the more amusing ways to spend her break.
[attr="class","icf"]“You better cut the pizza in four pieces because I’m not hungry enough to eat six.”
[attr=class,whocan]Karlsson idly pawed at the apple-shaped cologne bottle resting on the table nearby; the photographers and the marketing people had gathered in a corner to discuss the ad campaign's 'vision'-- or something like that. Though the light setup had been powered off, Karlsson still grimaced whenever his gaze even passed over one of the oversized bulb fixtures; modelling for luxury goods and sports drinks had its perks, but being under hot lights and sitting (or standing) motionless for half-hours on end tended to, in the moment, distract from the benefits. At least the suit he had on was real this time, instead of the velcro or clipped ones from other photoshoots-- Sharps stood up and stretched, thinking he'd enjoy a stroll or something before the photographers or anyone else realized his absence. The location being an empty alleyway at least gave the shoot some natural airflow, kept things cool. Ahead of him was the main street, bustling as one would expect it to; behind him was a row of smaller, more tucked-in shops and stores. Not wanting to be recognized so quickly, Karlsson turned and headed in the direction of the little cafes and bistros. On his way out of the alley and, subsequently, photoshoot, he dropped his suit jacket for a cat eared zipper hoodie, left unattended and draped over the back of a producer's chair; the garment's pastel pink fabric and taiyaki-shaped drawstring pulls made for a unique, to say the least, contrast with the rest of his black suit ensemble; it mattered little if he could use the hood, cat ears and all, to remain a little more incognito than he would without it.
As soon as he turned the corner out of the alley and into the small avenue, his eyes caught a reminder of why he'd made a prescient choice in borrowing the hoodie. A vintage electronics store displayed in its window several older television models, each playing today's sports news broadcast which, of course, had Sharps as the topic of discussion. The talking heads debated if Sharps's playstyle negatively impacted the team, despite his undisputed place as the most efficient producer on the roster. "Well, with Karlsson, you're guaranteed at least a goal or an assist each night but I think what is really concerning is his confusing reluctance to play what the Windcats really need. And that's defense," posited one of the analysts. "You know, I have to agree. I think it's fantastic that we've seen his game on the offensive end blossom and really step up over the last season but it seems to be coming at the cost of what made him a star for this city's team in the first place. Let's take a look at what Karlsson had to say at last night's postgame press conference after a 5-6 loss in overtime to the Mystics."
Sharps shook his head and hastily put on a pair of sunglasses before walking off; he'd gone on a somewhat memorable and humorous rant in last night's presser, mostly owing to the media's fixation on his individual performance as opposed to his teammates' good efforts on the ice. On second thought, earbuds were produced from his pants pocket and equipped as well-- being recognized was one thing, talking another entirely. He was almost certain that today's practice being called off had had to do with the team wanting everyone to cool their jets before the next game, the first of an away road trip, began in a few days. However, cooling jets had taken a backseat to modelling work, at the urging of his agent; it was better to get it done now than do it after the road trip, was the reasoning. In trying to keep a low profile while walking, Sharps nearly collided with a fellow pedestrian, causing him to apologize rapid-fire when he'd realized his inattentiveness.
His sunglasses came off to allow him to rub his eyes in the hopes that his light fatigue would figure itself out that way; practice was always a preferable way to spend the day but now even more so, he sighed to himself. Looking up to see where his stroll had led him, Sharps recognized the themed café he'd stopped in front of. The earbuds were removed, little snippets of a recent pop song still leaking out, so that he could focus all of his senses on remembering just how this franchise was familiar to him. "Huh. Is that right," he chuckled to himself, "I didn't know this place was even still around." The café franchise had sponsored some team events in the past, making for an amusing association between it and himself. There wasn't any way he was that hungry to where he'd actually enter one though, Sharps bet to himself facetiously.
"Oh I recycle, for sure." The woman said confidently to the tall man handing out flyers.
"Recycling is good, absolutely. But what they don't tell you is that there is so much recycled plastic being made, there isn't always a place to use it and so it gets thrown into landfills. The best thing to do is reuse." Hakon urged in a friendly way, only to have the woman scoff at him and continue on her way. It was a hot, busy day on the city streets with the Our Dying Mother organization for him this afternoon. He was charged with handing out flyers while the rest of his group sat at a booth nearby and offered refreshing, free drinks to everyone who passed (in biodegradable cups of course). Hakon knew why he was always put on flyer duty- being extremely tall, well built and with a deep growling voice he, at the very least, attracted many flirting women. His tight black jeans and loose black tank top helped too. At least they get to learn about the environment today. He would think to himself when they'd stare way up into his eyes as he'd tell them how animals in zoos suffer psychologically.
They were set up outside of the cafe today, heavy traffic. Hakon returned to the booth to take a breather, placing his hands on the table and sighing at the girls in their seats.
"How's it going over here?" He asked, "I'm dead already." They laughed. "Ah you're doing great. Could you go grab us some donuts though?" One of them asked, reaching a few dollars out to him with a pout.
"Get one for yourself too. C'mon, pleeeeeease Hakoooon. We're freakin' hungry and we forgot to pack lunches." He gave them an annoyed smile, snatching the money up. "I guess." He said in a dramatic, stupid voice before turning and slinking carefully past Sharps to get to the door. "'Scuuuse me, sorry-"
The cafe doors jingled as he stepped in and took a huge breath of delight at the air-conditioning bathing him in instant relief. One of the barista's waved him over, "Hey Hake, what can we do you for?"
[attr="class","sheng4"]Säure rubbed her eyes and stopped herself from yawning too loudly; before her was a dark door and around her were dim little bulbs of light; some strange sort of cell perhaps, she wondered. The edges of the small room boasted quite a few coats and different assortments of what looked to be little cases of powder; and a large, well-lit mirror sat in front of Säure, confusing her even further. Wherever she'd woken up certainly pampered its captives in providing them with strange options of clothing as well as whatever 'cosmetics' were. Examining herself, she found her outfit to be what she was used to wearing-- though she couldn't imagine going to sleep without changing out of it. Säure stood up and looked at herself in the mirror, accomplished by leaning quite far forward so as to fit within the mirror's reflection; remaining seated to view herself hadn't occurred to her yet. By all accounts, she looked to be herself, though her hair seemed somewhat shorter than before-- more waist-length than beyond-floor-length. Strange, she mumbled to herself. A dinging sound emanating from around her left hip startled her and she leapt into action to try and find out the culprit. Tucked into her pocket was an unfamiliar black tile, no larger than a worn whetstone, that boasted a shiny reflective surface on one side and a matte metal sheen on the other. When it dinged again, she nearly dropped it out of shock. Where the dark mirror side had been, a picture of herself and someone else appeared on the front, along with what looked to be the time; Säure briefly whipped her head around, making sure no one was around her as she was not yet convinced that this wasn't just a strange mirror reflecting her surroundings-- though she noted the blue sky and green grass in the background of the picture, both far cries from the plush and dim locale of this little room she found herself in. Who is this other person, Säure blinked nervously to herself; some foe or enemy, surely-- but then why the shared smiles? Not wanting to frazzle herself anymore than present circumstances already necessitated, the warrior looked to cut right to the point and gingerly touched the picture with her index finger. Though the black tile seemed to react slightly upon contact, she found herself unable to probe its secrets further, both perplexed and egged on by the words 'Swipe to unlock' glistening towards the bottom of the picture. Säure reached for her sword, intent on cleaving any sort of magic stored within the object-- only, her weapon was nowhere to be found. In its place, she seemed to have gripped a strange wood-and-metal contraption, shaped like an odd gourd almost and laden with several strings running from its center to its very edge. Completely unsuitable as a weapon, Säure thought nervously, what is this thing good for?[break][break]
Looking closer at the items on the floor, she discovered a small case, seemingly shaped to hold only this strange oblong object-- and a thin rod, made of wood and with a taut string running along it; whoever made this must never have seen a functional bow before, Säure thought, how would one even loose an arrow with the bowstring this rigid and close? Believing these peculiar non-weapons, little black tile included, to be of some significance, she collected them up and moved towards the dark door at last, intent on escaping back to her clan.[break][break]
Several futile pushes of the door saw Säure prepare to kick it down, until the little metal claw-like object near the edge of the door rotated downwards and a creaking sound groaned out from the door's hinges. "Säure, are you okay? What are you hitting the door for? Take it easy, alright?" An unfamiliar girl looked at Säure with concerned eyes but, perhaps most curiously, was the odd headwear she had on; thin and black, it seemed to cover one of her ears while extending a small rigid vine near her mouth. "Säure, Earth to Säure. The rest of the orchestra is grabbing brunch, you should get something too; I haven't seen you do anything but practice since you got off your flight. Your violin rehearsal isn't for a few more hours and you're not on piano until much later so take some time for yourself; see the city a bit. The concept of taking leisure time's sorta foreign for you, I know but you've earned it, relax! If I leave you in here, it seems like you'll go hitting doors and I don't think anyone wants that, trust me. You good? Go get something to eat, okay? Here, I'll take your violin and out it near the rest of your stuff on stage so you don't have to carry it around." The girl waited for a look of acknowledgement or agreement but seemed satisfied with a nod and thus hurried off down the gray corridor outside the room. Säure's nod came more from utter shock than it did understanding but knowing this locale wasn't hostile, at least not immediately so, was a relief. Being disarmed, even of a ostensibly useless weapon, was an uncomfortable feeling but, curiously, the girl had left Säure with possession of the little black tile. [break][break]
Navigating out of the long gray hall led her to a pair of metal doors that, like the one before, seemed to open with the slightest application of pressure to the claw-like protrusion near their center. Sunlight, wind, and sound all rushed to hit her senses at once but the sounds she heard once outside the structure were the most foreign. Honking, unlike any gaggle of geese she'd ever heard, seemed prevalent, though distant. Rectangle buildings nearly as tall as elder trees stretched across her whole field of view while smaller mobile structures of different colors seemed to move slowly, one after another, in designated trails. Curious to see what sort of structure she'd just exited, Säure turned around to behold a building made up of glass and wood, both deployed in ways she had never seen before. 'Hall' was the word she recognized from a large sign nearby but she wasn't sure what a 'Concert' was, much less a 'Pavane'. True enough to what the girl from before had suggested, Säure felt her stomach grumble and began thinking how to procure food-- after all, hunting without a weapon was difficult enough and, in an unfamiliar environment, it might as well have been a moot point. She weighed the pros and cons of looking for the girl, whose name appeared to emblazoned on her jacket as 'Quilliam', again but decided exploring this strange place room immediate priority-- perhaps she'd find someone she recognized, or the person the black tile seemed to depict her with...
Scrolling through his phone's endless feed of content, Xyan found an unusual amount of time to himself. Waking before a hint of sun was his norm, as was resting his eyes well after the sun had set. Research was essential, and familiarizing himself to his client's cases was a duty he undertook with urgency.
Yet, he found himself dully paused in time after having dropped off his foster child to school. Other than the light tap to his screen, he listened to silence: an echo of soundless ringing. Welcome, then, was the buzz of a notification atop his screen's banner. Pausing from mindless scrolls, the edges of his mouth curved ever-so slightly upwards as he read the short message.
'sure. Where would you like to go this time? Ill pick you up'
Hitting the enter key sent away the chat space, his screen returning to its idle home menu. He left the device at his bedside as he glided over to his sizable closet, the door already slightly ajar. While it was mostly filled with suits for his profession, there were a couple shirts and the like for more casual wear. Ones chosen by the careful eye of a friend.
Only when the attorney was fully assembled and seated in his Lexus did he finally check his notifications again. He had to check that Cruncher was still around the bakery, after all.
The rattling of a machine followed a constant tempo, the craftsman pushing down on a lever and causing it to vibrate. He pushed two pieces of fabrics into the machine's opening, binding them together with string. The fabric was of the finest quality, glitter atop white as it shimmered and sparkled when hit at the right angle of the lightbulb within the machine. The rest of the room's lights were off, surrounding the man in darkness while he worked.
“You better cut the pizza in four pieces because I’m not hungry enough to eat six.”
