I Want Your Everything {Verronica

Yet another house, though larger than the ones she was used to receiving accommodations in. This one was dreary though, the colors drab grays and blacks. Verronica hoped her room would perhaps, if she was lucky, be a bit more vibrantly colored. Neon colors would be preferable, but a nice bright red would work too. She could picture it in her head, a small, cozy room with painted walls of every color. Maybe she could stay here a while longer and finish it up before they got tired of her this time. Then again, it was up to them. Verronica slung her one bag over her right shoulder, feeling the can in which she collected coins clang against her back. A constant reminder that she needed these people.

The damp sidewalk under her feet was cold, and she could feel it through her worn down shoes. It was somewhat pleasant, the feeling, though one she could ignore easily. And ignore Verronica did, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. The house got bigger with every step, still as colorless as it had been a few feet ago. She was still lost in dreams of endless days spent making her assumable temporary room a home for her. Would it be easy to do on her own? Normally, when she moved, there was someone who stayed with her constantly, making sure that she ate, took care of her. At this new home there would be no one but herself to look after her.

A loud, rather irritated voice broke through her day dreaming. Who was that? She cast her gaze upwards, expecting to find an old man tapping his feet to hasten her. What she saw instead was a tall, tanned young man that seemed to be about her age. What was it that he said? She couldn't...Quite remember. It probably wasn't important anyways, if he hadn't repeated it. His hands were clenched in tight fists, and his nails digging into his hands. Poor things, Verronica sympathized absent mindedly. Something about him told her that he didn't really want to see her, that he just wanted her to go away. And she would, the first chance that she got.

His body language told Verronica that he was trying to be less stand offish than before, as he loosened his fists while trying to appear like nothing had happened. She had seen it though, the look that she got when a reluctant person had to come fetch her. It was their own fault though, she didn't really care as long as they were willing to listen. He seemed to be the quiet type, so Verronica bet that he would. His type, and this was only based on looks, tended to keep silent, and seethe until they exploded when she wasn't around. She liked his kind of guy.

She stood there, waiting for him to say something, completely drenched. It was a combination of humidity and sweat that weighed down her clothes. Today they consisted of a simple (for her) yellow T-shirt and jeans. Of course, the T-shirt also had a right purple monkey saying something along the lines of, 'You drive me oranges!' Verronica had never seen a real monkey, or really much of any animal other than cows. The shirt didn't make much sense to her because of it's requirement for knowledge of the animal it had on it. Verronica was doubtful such a creature even existed, since it had such a disproportional head, almost twice the size of it's body. It's color was dirt brown, almost chocolaty. Maybe it lived somewhere very wet, and lived in the muck like a fish. Then the camoflague would work.

With that little equation worked out in her head, Verronica looked up to see the youth still there. Was he waiting for her to say something? She doubted it- nobody really expected anything of her. She went where she wanted, and did what she wanted as long as nobody got hurt. Except for her. His intense eyes burned into her, and he stiffened as if he had just realized something. The only thing that was off about him was the dust that was settled in a thin dusting on his skin. Everyone that worked had that. Perhaps it was something mental? Without meaning to, Verronica felt herself drifting away from him a little. Maybe he was crazy. Something about the way he held himself implied that there was more going on in his mind then it appeared on his face. Then again, it could just be her mind wandering again.

[/size]"Need help with your stuff?"

[/size]The words sounded slightly forced, but the offer was kind enough. Verronica hesitated for a moment, lost in a faraway world of flying words and thoughts and that held shape. Slowly, almost painfully, the tall teenager nodded. Her eyes misted over as she paced. Four steps one way, turn. Four steps the other way. Turn. It was a habit she had picked up from one of her old houses, from where she had small room. She could walk no more than four steps, then the wall would come to her. It was just another quirk that made up who she was, and a rather annoying habit to others. She could never seem to stand still, even if it was just twitching her fingers, or flicking her eyes back and forth in what most people thought of as a nervous manner.

"Yes, go right ahead."

[/size]
The words sounded foreign to her, as if they came out of another's mouth. But no, to be sure, she put her hand to her throat as is vibrated. Certainly her words. She continued pacing as her feet made an empty tap-tap-tap on the cobbled streets. The thin soles of her running shoes slapped the stone feebly, like they were wanna be drums, attempting to beat. Verronica held out her small bag, filled with every one of her earthly belongings. An almost empty tin can that was dulled with age. The label on it once advertised canned peaches, but those were long gone down her hungry throat. Other than that, she had an odd bauble or two, and a souvenir from every place that she lived. It could be as small as a shard of colored class (Home number six) Or as trivial as a sky blue ribbon that she people told her brought out her eyes. It didn't really matter as long as it held some value to her. And almost everything did. [/blockquote]

While Verronica continued to let her mind wander as he stood there, rather stupidly in her opinion. She felt the thin hairs raise on the back of her neck, and a familiar tingling in the same place. So, he was watching her. Everyone did, like she was a time bomb, about to explode. He was wary of the way she acted, like she was insane. Perhaps she was, just not in the way most people expected. It was obvious my the way he held himself that he thought he was going to be like many of the others she had seen come there. On her way there she had seen sunken eyes, worn faces of people who had no hope. Along with them, were children who must have run away from their fate at home. Angry red welts raised across their faces, presumably from slaps or punches. Verronica knew what was to be expected of her. The real question was, did she care? She knew the answer to that well enough, and perhaps he would too someday.

No.

Verronica kept her face placid, not happy, nor sad. She halted in her tracks quite suddenly, which was the opposite of what he was doing. Even when the strange boy blinked, there was a calm slowness about him that made her think that he was scared. Scared of Verronica- who would have thought? People were worried about her, hated her sometimes, but never were scared. The very idea of her actually physically hurting him put a slight, almost unnoticeable smile on her lips, rejoicing in a small, joke, privy to her thoughts. He seemed to hesitate a second, as if considering if her disconnected words were even a real sentence. Of course they were. Why would she say them otherwise? Then again, some things that were considered sentences to her might not be to others. So many contradictions were making her head hurt. Verronica would ask to get some fresh air, but they were already outside. What did she need? There was a pang in her stomach too, but she didn't know what to call it, or how to fix it.

He walked towards her- if you could call it a walk. Each step was calculated, smooth, as if he was approaching a wild animal. Some of the children she had seen before were like that, so perhaps it had some sense invested in it. Still, it was unnerving the way his intense eyes bored into her, as if deep in thought. If only she could hear other people's thoughts, Verronica might know why people avoided her, walked to the other side of the street when the saw her coming. Could it be the way she was dressed? The shirt was admittedly worn down, but not as thread bare as some of the people dressed in her district- the 3rd poorest. Somehow there was never enough food for most people. Ah! That' what it was. Hunger. It was an empty word to her, one that was not to be associated with the feeling she had in her stomach.

His eyes continued to stare at her, though with less power than before. Her eyes seemed dim by comparison, though people had often told her they were her best feature. His definitely were. They had a quiet way about them that made her feel like he could see right through her. Wouldn't that be convenient ? To be able to see through others when they blocked your path, would be a power that she wouldn't mind at all. She wished she could do so right then, to see past the board like figure before her and into the house where she would probably be spending much of her time. Or in another world, but her earthly body would remain there.

The hand stretched out had become just another limb for Verronica, dull and unreachable. As he reached out to take it from her, she felt his rough skin come into contact with hers. He was warm, like the air around her but rough. Perhaps that was the perfect way to describe him- rough, ragged around the edges. Still, under it she could sense a muted softness in his demeanor that made her feel like he thought she was different somehow. Since when had she cared what other people thought though? Something was up with this place, and it was messing with her head. Was it him though, too?

The bag sagged around his elbow slightly, forming an upside down 'U'. It was odd how, if you looked, there was so much more to the meaningless rambles of the world around her, especially when she was actually paying attention to it. Funny how much attention she'd been attributing to her surroundings as of late. His dark, tanned skin stuck out against the other colors, and he stood tall. Like a tree anchoring her down to the world of other mortals, where most roamed. They would live their drab lifes, where everything was the same day to day, while she lived her...More eccentric life filled with other worldly pleasures. This teenager seemed like a cross between the lifes, a bridge.

[/size]"I'm Mace. I work here, and I grew up in the home. There's no rooms for girls in the house at the moment, not sure if Ma told you, but we've converted some of the barn's attic. If it doesn't suit after a night or two, we can try something else."

[/size]He sounded slightly rushed at the end, like he wanted to make sure she understood that they had no choice. A whole attic? No way. She'd normally been given corners of rooms, shared a moth-eaten mattress. Having a whole attic to herself was something Verronica hadn't even dreamed of. Plus, the corners always makes excellent painting. She could see it, an aquatic scene spread across her ceiling like the great blue sky above. The light would filter down through a small oblong window and illuminate the depths of her painted ocean, and it's miraculously bright colored inhabitants there within. A small school of silver fish flashing by under the gleaming light. It would be perfect.

"Why, that'd be most suiting, thank you."

[/size] Verronica had to struggle to keep from giggling under her breath. She was never this formal. Could he tell she was secretly making fun of him? So serious, it seemed. The kid needed to lighten up! They had a while yet until they were officially adults, and her needed to enjoy it. Little pranks like this one were the love of her life, and often the bane of others. Their loss is my gain, she thought mischievously, her eyes averted from him as to not give off her game. They were sparkling and bright, different from their normal far away glazed look they took on while she was thinking. And Verronica was, but differently. Not daydreaming, just thoughts rushing through her mind like any other human being.

"You got a name?"

[/size]The boy sounded so much more like...Well, a boy. Awkward, but casual in his own way. So this was the real him. Verronica was totally going to keep the charade going, maybe freak him out a little. From the way he was acting, he was already half convinced she was moony. Around the bend. A few pennies short. Whatever you want to call it, he thought she was absolutely mad. Time to reinforce that. This was one of the most classic tricks in the book for her, one that had been performed countless times to countless people on the streets. This one was so easy to convince. He needed to lighten up- and this was the way to do it.

"Oh. I don't really have a name. I go by Scar though in most places- 'cause I have so many. You wanna see some?"

[/size]She started rolling up her jeans, feeling the rough denim scrap against her smooth, overly long legs. She got to her knee when she stopped, and pointed to a random spot on it. She nodded for him to look.

[/color][/blockquote]

Verronica waited patiently for him to examine her make believe scar, while her eyes made swift contact with his. They were dark, intense, and yet there was something missing from them. Although they were his most striking feature by far, they seemed lifeless, in a way. Without the light of those who enjoyed life. What had he seen to make his outlook that way? Or, was it just natural, and Verronica was just over thinking things? No. They were dead eyes, and something was definitely up with them. The very idea of what could have killed his spirit made her want to shudder, but she was putting on the tough act. No shuddering there.

He moved his head to the side, like he couldn't quite believe the name he had been given. She wouldn't either- she'd seen how she looked. Soft skin, long dark hair, not a trace of abuse on her at all. Maybe she hadn't been convincing enough. He stared at Verronica for a second, and then his face twisted as if he was feeling something unpleasant. He was totally going to guess what she had just said was a lie. And he's be angry. She could see his face darkening, a thunderstorm of hate instantly. He would hate her. The one person she had wanted to like her, would despise her soul until she left.

Why did no one understan- Verronica's thoughts were cut off by his blunt voice chopping through the air that would be arid, if it were not so humid. Black would be gray if it were not so dark, but it is, and so was the day. Many things would not be what they were if they had one little thing changed. If a sheep did not have wool, would it still be a sheep? A sheep's purpose is to create wool, was it not? If something had no purpose, could it exist without one? Perhaps she would ask him later. He seemed easily irritated though, so it'd be taking a chance Verronica wasn't sure she should, or could make with him.

[/size]"Scar?"

[/size]He asked, his voice blank. How plain. Thinking back, he hadn't really said anything exciting for their full, albeit short conversation. This guy needed some zest- flavor to his sentences. Maybe that could be something she could teach him if she stayed for a while. His eyes locked with hers, as she taught him how to imagine things greater than himself. Honestly, she had no sense of his personality so far, unless he was one of those wet rags who knew absolutely nothing about socialization. Most teenage boys would have opened up to her by now- usually it only took a few odd sentences for them to either freak out and run away, or want to get to know her better. Through his mask of indifference, she just couldn't tell.

This was her chance to win him over. He was unsure, a child that needed guidance. She would herd him to the darkside. And give him cookies. There, he might believe anything, or almost anything she said. So, so perfect for her, and so cruelly consuming for him. Just the way Verronica liked it. It occurred to her that she might be taking that too far, but she brushed it aside like an annoying strand of hair. Speaking of such, one of her unstylable hair strands had fallen into her eye, and she used her unoccupied hand to put the rowdy piece behind her rounded, porcelain colored ear. The other of course, was used holding up her jean.

Quickly, and rather surprisingly, a warm, and slightly sticky hand covered hers as she clutched the denim loosely between her fingers. Instinctively, she tightened her grip- this wasn't what she had expected. She had never felt a hand like his before. It was rough, and blister covered blister on his hand to form callouses. It was hot, more than the air around them, and clung to her hand with moisture both from sweat and humidity. Yet, behind the hard feel of them, there was a soft way about the way he touched her hand, like she was breakable. China. The last time someone had touched her like that...Verronica couldn't remember the last time. And it was nice, wasn't it? A feeling, impossible for anyone to really describe in all reality, spread through her chest like a flame, flickering at her heart.

"That's far enough."

[/size]His voice was stern, hard like steel, and as cold as ice. She knew it was meant only to chastise, but it bit her like the frost in his tone was real. She drew back, insulted, and noticed that he did the same. The kid was back to the same still board-likeness from before. Verronica had to keep in the sigh that was building up within her, even though she was not one to mask her emotions. Why was he so angry at her? She hadn't done anything. Not really. Stupid uptight jerk.

"Hmph. Fine then. Be like that! See if I care."

[/size]She was in a foul mood now, and Verronica expected him to know it. People generally steered clear of her when she got like this, and he was soon to learn it, if she had her way. He was acting all high and mighty like he was innocent and she was freakin' guilty all of a sudden. She'd show him. Hopefully though, this wouldn't get her kicked out of the home. Maybe she wouldn't attack him, she thought sizing him up. He was a formidable opponent to say the least- his well built body encased in muscle earned through hard work in the fields, tending the animals. His strong, wiry arms could pin her down in half a second. Plus, he was even bigger than her. No, she'd just pick on him.


OOC: Sorry for the short post.[/blockquote][/size][/color]

Verronica stared at him, her lower lip jutted out as a sign of her fit. True, it was somewhat immature to get mad at him for being mean to her, but he was mean to her! The stupid jerk. What made her ever think that he wanted to be her friend? Stupid boy. He was just like the others, she thought as she tug her nails deep into soft-skinned hand. When she couldn't take the pain of that anymore, she resorted to chewing on her lip. It was one of those weird quirks that people did when they were nervous, like an eyebrow twitching, or playing with their hair. For her, it also served as something she did when she was angry. Though that may not be the correct term of what she was feeling. Verronica was having something more commonly known as a 'temper tantrum.' Not that she'd admit it. Her anger towards Mace was more like a flickering candle, that would burn itself out in mere minutes. Real rage was more like an all-consuming inferno that set others alight in it's attempt at driving the thing that kindled that fire in the first place. Verronica had never experienced that, and she didn't plan to, if she had a voice in things.

Though she normally didn't.

Thoughts like this were running through her head, thoughts that sustained the weak blaze that still remained of her hate. Soon it would be gone, leaving a smoldering, embarrassed ember in it's wake. That ember would be Verronica, quite obviously. All of her thoughts seemed simple to her, but whenever she tried to tell someone of some radical theory she had concocted, she was shooed. They said they got a headache just from hearing the her talk, never mind the complicated structure that her thoughts followed. It was sad, that no one seemed to understand what she was trying to get across. So Verronica had started to just drop off in mid sentence and see if people were following- at least when she was calm. When she still had a head on her shoulders, she minded that people's attention didn't wander.

Like hers was now. Verronica tore her vision from the ground, where it had probably appeared that she was studying the gravely sidewalk, to look at the source of her annoyance. Mace the antagonist. That sounded about right, didn't it? Surpisingly, or rather not so, the words went together. Flowing like silver off the tongue, though she didn't dare to say it out loud. Verronica could see him enveloped in the great fury that she had just wished she could never be a part of. In fact, if he burst into flames right now, it wouldn't surprise her. What was that called? Spontaneous combustion? That seemed about right- it was nothing Verronica had ever seen, but it sounded likely enough that Mace could do that. His brooding expression seemed like it could be hiding anything, perhaps a plot to kill her, perhaps just regular thoughts. He had an excellent poker face, that was for sure.

[/size]"It's not a game,"

[/size]He snapped at her, obviously losing as much control as Verronica was of her temper. The difference was, his wrath would be much more devastating than hers, which would abate over the course of a few minutes. Already, it was almost done ebbing, so that her expression softened momentarily. Then, almost strictly, she reprimanded herself. She was supposed to be angry! Not sympathetic! Why does she have to be the one who can't hold a grudge? She had seen it enough, people unable to forgive and forget, with scars deeper than their skins. And that was just at home- she hadn't really seen the street as she was never focused on who was in it, just her mind. The only things that really mattered was her mind, which people often disregarded as fanciful. To her, it was the real world. Life was just a bad idea that people should leave, and habitat a place where there was no one to get mad at, just a loving family that you've made to your specifications. Then, no one would be depressed, or scared.

"I'm in charge here, whatever your name is, Scar."

[/size]Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed, didn't he? His voice had a lower, less controlled tone to it that made her think of a tiger. Yes, he was peaceful, guarded, but dangerous. So very dangerous. But did he seriously think that he was in charge of her? He'd learn, like they all did. Verronica would tame the beast, and show him that she could not be put in a cage- not by him, not by anybody! She was shocked at her own passion for what seemed like almost an empty cause to most people. Why not let some one else guide you? Because the one thing that she actually enjoyed in this world revolved around being free to act as she wanted without anyone prohibiting her. The idea of being holed up in a house all day...Despicable. There was a whole world out there, and you want to sit around all day? What a waste. Verronica couldn't stand those kind of people.

No. She had to keep her thoughts in check, and try to keep her expression blank. Reigning them in, she refocused her eyes on his, which were glaring with unmasked, raw violence barely hidden beneath a thin layer of control. He was obviously used to people getting angry at him, not the other way around. This guy needed to shake life up! It was time for him to emerge from his little shell. Obviously, he struck out whenever his little bubble of protection and used his muscles to keep his world the same. Verronica had to keep herself from rolling her eyes at his estimated stupidity. So freakin' boring. No wonder he was angry- that kind of stuff got to you. Though, maybe it wasn't true, it was what she had off her first impression, and she had learned to trust herself.

Mace paced away, his steps much larger than her. With a smug look of satisfaction, she watched him glance at the softly bristled weeds that peeked up shyly between the cracks. They were delicate, the kind of plant that she would nurture and take care of, even if other people thought that it was unorthodox- that was exactly why she was doing it! Weeds need love too you know. He had a disgusted look on his face, like they needed to go. Trust him to think that. Again, she had to fight the urge to roll her eyes at his bluntness. She supposed that other people might view them as unneeded, and an annoyance, but that was no reason not to like them! There was a reason for everything- even if it was just to live. What was a humans purpose? To destroy the planet? If it was, they were doing a damn good job. Maybe people should just exterminate each other if they thought they were ugly, or unneeded. That was essentially what happened with weeds, wasn't it? Nobody liked them for no reason.

Suddenly, he stopped. Thinking. Perhaps his body stopped when his brain started? That would explain the erratic actions from earlier, and how freely he moved when he was angry. Rage was without thoughts. Verronica was perfectly calm, even analytical now, looking at him with narrowed eyes. He still had her bag, she realized, with a start. It had everything in it that was important to her, her heart would break if he so much as dropped it. But for some odd reason, Verronica knew that he wouldn't. Although he quite obviously disliked her, he wouldn't physically harm something unless it deserved it. She cast her eyes upwards- the sky was lighting up with the muted oranges and dazzling pinks of sunset. It was getting late, and most people would be getting inside soon. She might well do the same.

Stepping unevenly on the badly paved pathway, she made her way down to where he stood, straight as a board, and awkward as a turtle. It was amusing seeing him struggle with everyday things, like simple conversation. He was just a normal teenage boy underneath it all, after all. He might try to act all big and tough, but really? Verronica bet that there was something soft somewhere in him. Somewhere. She could see him ducking his chin down, the universal body-language for shame. What had he to be ashamed of? A short outburst? Tch- everyone got angry. At least he was somewhat calm now. He blinked once, as did Verronica. She matched each breath with his, letting Mace think he was dominant. Though neither of them really knew it, this was an ancient submissive gesture, though it was so well etched into their minds that it was simply instinct.

"Sorry."
[/size]
The word was short, curt and forced, but there was something about the almost pleading air he emitted, but she knew he meant it.

"Do over? Mace Emberstatt."
[/size]
He held out a hand for Verronica to shake, reintroducing himself. A fresh start. It sounded good to Verronica.

"Verronica Pacifica. Pleased to meet you!"

[/size]She flashed a bright smile, transparently happy. It seemed she had forgotten her anger a mere moment before- actually she had. The last few minutes were a bit of a blur in her head, large patches just glossed over. In fact, she was starting to forget why he was so stiff. She herself was perfectly relaxed, taking his hand and warmly shaking it like old friends. Why not? After all, it was up to her to put the best foot forward- he wouldn't ever do anything social without being prompted. She slowly released his hand, feeling a slight pang when his warm, rough skin stopped contacting hers. It was so...solid. Unlike Verronica, he was a tree, rooted where he was, so that not even nature itself can move him. She was more like a whisper of wind, flitting over the meadows, just outside of everyone's reach.

Suddenly, on a simple impulse, Verronica grabbed his wrist and started tugging on it. Her eyes lit up as she looked towards the house. It was so bleak, but had a certain cozy feel to it. She wanted to go inside, look at her room. Her own room! She felt dizzy with anticipation just thinking about it. It's walls would slant, and there would be a window, and...Her thought trailed off as she shook her head.

"Come on!"

[/size]She called, turning her head towards Mace. She couldn't read his expression, but she could only hope he would agree.

[/blockquote][/color]

OOC: Longest post yet. :3 behold my ramblings put down into her.