for the first time {raseri}

for the first time {raseri} Jun 10, 2012 22:19:08 GMT -5

Post by layla on Jun 10, 2012 22:19:08 GMT -5

main: 406791 - speech: 5482B3 - thoughts: 9AB9DB
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The sound of footsteps echoed around square, voices mingling in along with it. The Square was one of the busier parts of the district, with most of the shops being there. Morphling addicts roam around, yellowed skin sagging. Meanwhile, I sit on a bench in the midst of it all, pen scraping against paper as I sketch out a blueprint for one of my many inventions. Not that my inventions ever get finished, though. Procrastination is not a good thing. My eyebrows furrow in concentration as line after line is added to the paper, attempting to make the perfect invention.

A high-tech, super enhanced... Potato gun. Sure, they'd already been invented, but not one of this caliber. This could and would be my big break. Everybody in District Three would be buying my potato gun...

A frustrated grunt escapes my lips as I realize how likely that is. Who in the world would buy a potato gun? With one swift movement I tear out the sheet of paper and throw it in the overfilled garbage can next to me before slamming the notebook shut and leaning back against the bench. I'd probably never invent anything of use. Instead I waste my time away drawing blueprints for potato guns and other trivial things.

And now, here I sit, wallowing in my own self pity over the horrors of an inventor's block. Is that a real thing? I guess it is now. I stand up and pace around the square, attracting a few weird looks from passing pedestrians. What others think of me isn't something I really care about, though.

A few more paces and I'm back at the bench, plopping down on my butt and pulling out my notebook once more. I scrawl a few random sketches of inventions in it. But somehow none of them seemed good enough. In one corner a sketch of a robot sits, looking short and stout and somehow cute. I decide to go with that one and flip to another page, starting a blueprint that I know I'll probably never finish. It's good practice anyways, though.

Soon enough I'm halfway done, squiggling lines indicating where wires would be on the small form of the robot. It would be a small robot, one that could speed around the district and deliver messages. You know, since phones are too mainstream.

It's a lost cause soon enough, though, and the notebook is snapped shut. I decide to save the blueprint instead of trashing it, though. It is something that might catch people's interest, something that might be my big break.

I'm lying back on the bench now, eyes closed as I tap out a beat with my fingers. Ideas race through my mind, none of them interesting enough to stick. It all just seems to be a blur, no fantastic ideas that would reinvent the way society thinks pop up. Soon enough I'm lost in thought, mind wandering as I lie back on the bench.

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for the first time {raseri} Jul 18, 2012 18:42:37 GMT -5

Post by Raseri on Jul 18, 2012 18:42:37 GMT -5

((I have permission from nessarose to powerplay if necessary, and she has my permission as well.))

A bell jingles when I exit the small coffee shop, signaling to the workers that a customer is leaving. I never actually drink coffee, of course; I think it tastes disgusting and it always makes me feel terrible. But on Saturdays, I always stop at this little coffee shop that I’ve taken the liberty of naming “The Hole in the Wall” (you’d miss it if you blinked), because their muffins are delicious. Holding a paper bag in one hand and a polystyrene cup in the other, I make my way to the Square.

As is the norm for a Saturday, the Square is buzzing with the sounds of the district. Mothers hurry their children along on the street while a few morphling addicts roamy the allies. Shop doors open and close as a few pidgeons flutter away from their pursuer, a squealing four-year old.

I take a sip from my cup and then spit it out quickly as the hot chocolate scalds my tongue. What the heck? I always end up doing that. Every. Freaking. Saturday. I suck in air and it makes my tongue feel a little better.

A bench catches my eye, and I see someone about my age sitting on it, doodling something in a notebook with blue paper. I have a notebook with blue paper, but I don't usually fill it with anything besides blueprints and construction plans.

I really don't know why I have this sudden urge to be social, but I find myself walking towards the bench. Usually, I don't make much of an effort to make new friends; I generally keep to myself (or maybe other people just keep away from me). It's not really that I'm all that shy, it's just that I never feel a really terrible need for friends. For some reason, though, I want to say something to this stranger who is now leaning back on the bench with his eyes closed.

I soon find myself quietly sitting down to the left of the boy, and I greet him with a simple "Hey." My paper bag and hot chocolate are momentarily forgotten as I place them on the bench to my left. I study his face quickly, taking in as many details as I can without looking like I'm staring. I tend to do that a lot. He has dark brown hair that's kind of messy, sort of like mine but not as curly-looking. His fair skin kind of accentuates his eyes, which I notice after he opens them are grey. I love grey eyes, I think they're a lot more interesting than the normal eye colors, like brown and blue and green. They look intelligent, even more so since this boy's eyes are framed by large square glasses. I detect a bit of shyness in them, though, something that used to show in my eyes until about a year ago, when I finally manned up and ignored peoples' constant taunting. The boy's not bad looking, all in all. Cute, even.

O. M. G.
This boy is wearing suspenders.
Where the hell has he been all my life?

I stop staring and ask a question. "What's that you're working on?" I inquire encouragingly, nodding my head toward his closed notebook. "If you don't mind me asking, I mean."

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