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Post by asher on Apr 19, 2011 20:30:56 GMT -8
Crumbling, aged stones sat upright, the engravings barely visible in the dark. There came a soft tinkling sound, like tiny bells, as a shadow loped awkwardly from stone to stone. 156 moved in a bouncing gait, covering more ground than average as he darted to a hiding place.
As always, the whispers drew him.
No, he couldn't truly hear them. That would be beyond strange. Even if 156 were capable of hearing such dead noises, he wouldn't tell. Those he had met thought him a bit of an oddity anyway. Eyes shifted rapidly from side to side as he moved, running slightly bent over. It was silly, really, for every stone here stood at least five or six inches taller than he did.
Still.
156 carried a badly-wrapped bundle in his arms, cloak draped hazardously over his shoulders. At times he paused, jerking his shoulders as if to better adjust the cloth, before moving on again. Where he was going was anyone's guess, for his movements were erratic and chaotic, moving in no particular direction. The ragdoll felt the bundle slip, and he nearly fell flat on his face when his foot caught on it.
The object tinkled loudly, and fear jolting through him, 156 ducked to hide behind a battered, in-ill-repair tombstone. It had been a silly trinket, strange symbols interlocking to form a sort of chain. He had supposed it to be a bracelet, but at some point in the past the clutch had been broken off, leaving it useless.
He shuttered his eyes, resisting the urge to pull his cloak over his head and sink to the ground. Too much noise, he would surely attract attention, and even if it be 'good', 156 couldn't stand attention. The doll mumbled quietly to himself, inaudible, random words with no meaning to anyone but himself.
Had he been heard?
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Post by brokenbox on Apr 20, 2011 8:58:22 GMT -8
(Hi, I hope you don't mind me jumping in!)
With each step, he felt the ground bend beneath his feet. With each step, he would sink in just a little bit. With each step, he was becoming annoyed. It wasn't the muddy ground that got to the Racketeer. It was the fact that he had left the Clocktower for a stroll. This isn't a stroll, he brooded, this is exploring.
Since when was he so adventurous? Until recent, he never really cared for exploring, but now, look at him; he left the Clocktower, and he's not looking for material he could use for making clothing. Something isn't right with this.
Running a hand through his messy, long black hair, June sighted. He had pulled it back into a bun, for it would only get in the was of his line of vision if he would be attacked or any of the sort. But his hair was being stubborn and refused to stay pinned up. And wearing bright clothing in such a dull environment meant that the was a chance that he would be seen. Though, June had always been fond of his red robe. Why, it was the first clothing he had ever made!
Whilst he was musing, June almost failed to notice a faint tinkly noise. The faint sound caused the tall and slender doll to stop. A confused yet alert look appeared on his feminine face. He stood there is silence, trying to pin-point the source of the sound. What was that? Was it an un-friendly rogue? Or a traitor perhaps? Oh Creator, please don't let it be a machine!
The stitchpunk wrapped his arms around himself, trying to relieve some of the uneasiness that had built up in side him. His bottom lip quivered as a chill ran up his spine. Hesitant at first, he opened his mouth and called out;
"H-... Hello?"
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Post by asher on Apr 20, 2011 13:52:45 GMT -8
A slightly shaky voice reached 156. With a small sigh of relief, 156 actually slid down the stone to the ground, loosening his death-grip on the bundle a bit. Beasts didn't talk, or at least not like with shaky voices, and wouldn't an enemy have come looking for him already? Still, 156 had his slight suspicion. It wasn't like a lot of rags visited the cemetery. This was a place of mourning, for most.
They certainly didn't visit this late at night. But then, 156 reasoned, he was here. So it made sense that others might wander in now and then.
Making a little bit of noise as he got up, 156 scooped up his things and leaned around the edge of his tombstone. A long-fingered hand snaked out and grabbed the end of the bracelet. Clicking noises of frustration emitted from his throat as it snagged on a small, dead root. His brow furrowed, and he scowled, giving another hard jerk.
The momentary panic passed, 156 didn't give a spark how much noise he made. Once he had retrieved the bracelet, 156 disappeared from sight before circling around to the other side. He peered at the other rag doll from the dark, brows lifted. Frankly, 156 didn't have many friends, or acquaintances even - he usually kept to himself. He didn't avoid company, per say, he just didn't seek it out either.
Once he was sure he stood in sight, 156 gave an awkward, shy wave before clutching back at the bundle he held, shuffling his feet as he moved forward. Then he stopped again, unsure. Eyes on the ground. 156 didn't like making eye contact, he felt as if he were putting others on the spot when he did so - and he hated being put on the spot.
No words left his mouth. He felt a little bold, but not that bold. A shy smile formed on his face. It was rather nice to see another rag again.
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Post by brokenbox on Apr 20, 2011 18:56:58 GMT -8
There was a moment of silence. Sighing, June inserted his fingers into his bundled up hair and pushed it up a little. He began to question his sanity. I knew that Traitor isn't good for my health, he concluded.
With a spin of his heel, June decided that he should head back to the Clocktower. It was starting to get a bit late anyways. The rag doll didn't like to be outside when it was dark, especially in an unfamiliar environment. Though, a clicking sound caused him to stop. He stood there, arms by his side, listening. He peered over his shoulder to the general direction of the sound.
Clicking? As far as the Racketeer knew, only Machines clicked. He slowly stuffed his hand into his kimono and produced a small blade, though, he didn't pull it out all the way, just only so that the hilt could be seen. Normally he used it to cut fabric and thread, but June knew other uses for it.
"Who's the-...?!" he was stopped mid-sentence when he saw something move.
A figure. It waved awkwardly, though June only returned a frosty gaze. The doll clutched the bundle that they were carrying and shuffled a bit more before stopping. No eye contact was made between the two, which caused June to lower his guard.
Letting go of the blade which fell back into the pocket in his robe, June turned around fully to face the doll. If it wasn't for his masculine voice, anyone would've mistaken him for a female.
"Hello," he said after a while, keeping his tone soft and polite.
How shy, he thought to himself as he cataloged the other stitchpunk. He crossed his arms across his chest and shifted his weight to one leg.
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Post by asher on Apr 21, 2011 6:24:06 GMT -8
156 watched the other ragdoll begin to leave, and for a moment, felt sinking disappointment. It had been awhile since he'd had any company.
However, when he spotted the rag holding something, he shrank in on himself. A weapon? He looked away again, nervously. What if it was a traitor pretending .... ?
A small, called out greeting in a soft voice. 156 felt a pang of puzzlement, having been half sure the other was a girl, but that didn't sound quite right. He took a couple of steps and then stopped, staring at his feet over the bundle. The bracelet dragged on the ground a bit, more of an annoyance than something noticeable.
Frankly, it was too dark for efficient signing. So, still not looking up, 156 made a decision. To speak.
"Um." A pause, as if he had forgotten the words to the common greeting. "Hello."
A small intake of breath. Should he push it? He was already being rather out of his own personality by just approaching the other rag. 156 looked around, as if expecting others, then back to the doll. "What, um, you doing ... here?" The last word was tacked on like some form of an afterthought.
156 was resisting the urge to throw his cape over his head and hide. It would have looked rather comical, but it would have made him nearly invisible in the dark. Instead, he forced himself to sit still and wait.
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Post by brokenbox on Apr 21, 2011 9:42:02 GMT -8
"Um."
There was a pause.
"Hello."
The doll inhaled and another short moment of silence followed. June watched as the ragdoll looked around, as if expecting something, before facing June again. The long haired doll shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He placed his hand on his mouth to hide a smirk. So, it speaks, he thought to himself humorously.
"What, um, you doing ... here?"
Dropping his hand to his side, June took a step forward, a bit closer to the doll, though not close enough to invade his personal space. That would just simply be rude. And June didn't do rude.
"I'm here on a..." June paused for a moment to choose the proper words, "I'm here on a stroll."
Mentally slapping himself, a scowl appeared on his feminine face, but was quickly replaced with a friendly smile. You nut head, he thought to himself, who takes strolls in the Cemetery? Dropping the subject on strolling and cemeteries, June took a long good look at the rather nervous doll. After a few seconds of cataloging, the Tailor decided that the nervous ragdoll was around his height. His skin was made out of what seemed like burlap. But alas, it was nearly impossible to tell in this lighting.
"Now," June began slowly, "what are you doing here?"
He shifted his weight so that it was equal on both of his legs. He sauntered over to a small slab of rock that looked like a piece of a tombstone, and sat down. He tossed one leg over the other and rested his elbow on his knee while propped his head on the palm of his had.
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