No Better Man (CA - Robin, Uno, Saber, & Tiffany)
Quote from Adriana on November 13, 2019, 9:15 pmA roleplay set years before the main storyline, with many characters featured, namely Robin, Uno, Saber and Tiffany of the Pinerich werewolves.
Robin and Uno (or Val) weren't always aware of the Pinerich werewolves, and at one point mistakenly took up work within their territory. A few chance encounters occur, before Robin and Uno are chased out.
They take a trip to the west coast before eventually returning to find another life elsewhere which brings them to Middlecrest. Uno had set out to privately discover the location of Robin's lost husband, Jodecai, and receives word at the end of the roleplay. This eventually leads to Robin and Uno tracking Jodecai in A Time for Questions and Answers.
There just isn't money in homelessness.
I could join the mob. Kill people for a living, because, that's what society needs right now to accept me, right? Or my people - you know. My people. I'm not talking about being a werewolf - naaaah - man. Being a werewolf is easy. Ain't no different from anything else I been through. Except sometimes you'd think I was constantly wearing fur, with big teeth, ready to eat your grandma.
"ROBIN, DISHES, NOW."
My apron was soaked through to my pants. I could never do dishes fast enough for him, even though I did it four times faster than any of the other dish washers here. Meanwhile he walked around the kitchen with his head high, as if he didn't just put out a cigarette butt in a plate of leftovers. That was lovely. Real refined. I really looked forward to cleaning it up.
I didn't have many friends here. You stop trying when you jump from one part time job to the next within a couple of weeks, maybe a month. Anyway, all of the cooks were pretentious. I know they had rumors about me, but they smiled to my face, and that bothers me something fierce. You got a problem with me, I'm okay with that. You pretend you don't, that's another story.
Then while I'm on the clock, all of the other dishwashers are out back, burning grass... who needs to work when someone does it and you still get paid?
But it put gas in Val's car, and a warm cup of coffee in my hands. So I showed up, did it, went home-whether that be a motel room or across the backseat of the car.
My shift ended at noon, after the breakfast rush had subsided. I'd take my apron off as I did any other day, wash up, then get a cuppa joe and sit at the back booth near the window.
It was a small place just on the edge of Pinerich, called "Jon's Burger Stop". Trying to be a classy little diner, fooling exactly nobody with those ugly white stained tiles on the floor, and red leather in the booths all cracked and worn. It didn't even have character-naw, more like borderline health code violations. The only thing I got from here was the coffee-because I made it fresh every day and made sure we had the cleanest coffee maker in town.
And while I sat, I thought about him, and I thought about her. My thoughts belonged mostly to them. Always, mostly to them. I lifted the hot mug to my mouth, but never brought it up. Just breathed in the smell, let the steam warm my face and watched the world pass by outside.
A roleplay set years before the main storyline, with many characters featured, namely Robin, Uno, Saber and Tiffany of the Pinerich werewolves.
Robin and Uno (or Val) weren't always aware of the Pinerich werewolves, and at one point mistakenly took up work within their territory. A few chance encounters occur, before Robin and Uno are chased out.
They take a trip to the west coast before eventually returning to find another life elsewhere which brings them to Middlecrest. Uno had set out to privately discover the location of Robin's lost husband, Jodecai, and receives word at the end of the roleplay. This eventually leads to Robin and Uno tracking Jodecai in A Time for Questions and Answers.
There just isn't money in homelessness.
I could join the mob. Kill people for a living, because, that's what society needs right now to accept me, right? Or my people - you know. My people. I'm not talking about being a werewolf - naaaah - man. Being a werewolf is easy. Ain't no different from anything else I been through. Except sometimes you'd think I was constantly wearing fur, with big teeth, ready to eat your grandma.
"ROBIN, DISHES, NOW."
My apron was soaked through to my pants. I could never do dishes fast enough for him, even though I did it four times faster than any of the other dish washers here. Meanwhile he walked around the kitchen with his head high, as if he didn't just put out a cigarette butt in a plate of leftovers. That was lovely. Real refined. I really looked forward to cleaning it up.
I didn't have many friends here. You stop trying when you jump from one part time job to the next within a couple of weeks, maybe a month. Anyway, all of the cooks were pretentious. I know they had rumors about me, but they smiled to my face, and that bothers me something fierce. You got a problem with me, I'm okay with that. You pretend you don't, that's another story.
Then while I'm on the clock, all of the other dishwashers are out back, burning grass... who needs to work when someone does it and you still get paid?
But it put gas in Val's car, and a warm cup of coffee in my hands. So I showed up, did it, went home-whether that be a motel room or across the backseat of the car.
My shift ended at noon, after the breakfast rush had subsided. I'd take my apron off as I did any other day, wash up, then get a cuppa joe and sit at the back booth near the window.
It was a small place just on the edge of Pinerich, called "Jon's Burger Stop". Trying to be a classy little diner, fooling exactly nobody with those ugly white stained tiles on the floor, and red leather in the booths all cracked and worn. It didn't even have character-naw, more like borderline health code violations. The only thing I got from here was the coffee-because I made it fresh every day and made sure we had the cleanest coffee maker in town.
And while I sat, I thought about him, and I thought about her. My thoughts belonged mostly to them. Always, mostly to them. I lifted the hot mug to my mouth, but never brought it up. Just breathed in the smell, let the steam warm my face and watched the world pass by outside.
Quote from Indy on November 15, 2019, 7:30 pmPass by the world did. The lunch crowd was percolating through the cracks like a finely brewed coffee. A very finely brewed coffee, with customers few and far between. A young couple walked in, and shortly out as the woman eyed the cracked red leather with disdain. An older woman grabbed a bag to-go, never once confirming the contents; perhaps to her great wisdom. A young, frazzled woman with her two children grabbed a couple burgers as her daughter tugged impatiently at her dress and her young son fussed from her arms. In a skill of great precision and dexterity, she managed to take the tray and coral her infants like sheep to a booth at the apposing end. As each came and went, it was as if it were a fine dance. Or more accureatly, a game of hot-potato; the shorter you stayed, the less you need think about where you were.
Besides Robin, only one other remained a consistency. An older gentleman sat at the booth over. His youth had long fled: his hair was silvered snow, deep wrinkled lines made rail-road tracks over his face, half-moon reading spectacles adorned pale eyes, and a handsome mahogany cane sat besides him. Yet there was something regal to him as well, as if years of past-glory could be seen, like an old lion majestically surveying what had once been his kingdom. For the past hour, he'd nibbled delicately at some toast and jam, a cup of coffee in hand, as he marked a set of pages contained in a thick binder with his pen. Sometimes he made quick glances around the diner as people came and went, but his attention was largely undivided to the binder.
Finally he glanced up, making brief eye contact with Robin. His light eyes narrowed on her curiously, not unlike his expression when he'd looked at his binder. His thin lips twisted into a brief smile, but then it fled. His gaze shied away just as the eye contact may have become uncomfortable. He settled back into his manuscript, as if nothing more had happened.
Still looking intently at his pages, the gentleman said, "You're too pretty to look so sad".
He nodded to himself as he made an intentional mark on the sheet, "Musta been quite the story".
Pass by the world did. The lunch crowd was percolating through the cracks like a finely brewed coffee. A very finely brewed coffee, with customers few and far between. A young couple walked in, and shortly out as the woman eyed the cracked red leather with disdain. An older woman grabbed a bag to-go, never once confirming the contents; perhaps to her great wisdom. A young, frazzled woman with her two children grabbed a couple burgers as her daughter tugged impatiently at her dress and her young son fussed from her arms. In a skill of great precision and dexterity, she managed to take the tray and coral her infants like sheep to a booth at the apposing end. As each came and went, it was as if it were a fine dance. Or more accureatly, a game of hot-potato; the shorter you stayed, the less you need think about where you were.
Besides Robin, only one other remained a consistency. An older gentleman sat at the booth over. His youth had long fled: his hair was silvered snow, deep wrinkled lines made rail-road tracks over his face, half-moon reading spectacles adorned pale eyes, and a handsome mahogany cane sat besides him. Yet there was something regal to him as well, as if years of past-glory could be seen, like an old lion majestically surveying what had once been his kingdom. For the past hour, he'd nibbled delicately at some toast and jam, a cup of coffee in hand, as he marked a set of pages contained in a thick binder with his pen. Sometimes he made quick glances around the diner as people came and went, but his attention was largely undivided to the binder.
Finally he glanced up, making brief eye contact with Robin. His light eyes narrowed on her curiously, not unlike his expression when he'd looked at his binder. His thin lips twisted into a brief smile, but then it fled. His gaze shied away just as the eye contact may have become uncomfortable. He settled back into his manuscript, as if nothing more had happened.
Still looking intently at his pages, the gentleman said, "You're too pretty to look so sad".
He nodded to himself as he made an intentional mark on the sheet, "Musta been quite the story".
Quote from Skyelre on November 16, 2019, 12:54 amOut on the highway that passed by Jon's Burger Stop, off towards the south, was a motorcycle that was coming up in it's direction.
The bike was black, a Kawasaki Ninja ZX-11, the exterior glossy and intentional care clearly given to it's upkeep. The rider, looking almost a tad too small for the bike, was donning a black leather jacket and a black helmet with flames painted on the sides. The rider's dark eyes were intently focused on the road ahead, only glancing at the restaurant for a split second before falling back to watching his path. Just as quick as the motion, a decision was made and the bike slowed down, signaling to turn.
Soon in the parking lot of Jon's Burger Stop, the bike rolled carefully into an empty plot near the building. The rider turned off the bikes engine, slowly pulled off his helmet and released a sigh.
Carefully he got off the bike and winced as he put his weight down and stood. With another soft sigh and gentle movement, he managed to crouch down and inspect the side of his bike. No scratches. Front wheel appeared alright as well. The same couldn't be said however for one of his black boots, which now had shred marks on the side of it's sole.
Slowly he stood back up and gingerly leaned onto the bike for support, the tension which wrapped around his features prior beginning to dissolve.
Saber now closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled; He wasn't there for the diner, but to release adrenaline before continuing.
Out on the highway that passed by Jon's Burger Stop, off towards the south, was a motorcycle that was coming up in it's direction.
The bike was black, a Kawasaki Ninja ZX-11, the exterior glossy and intentional care clearly given to it's upkeep. The rider, looking almost a tad too small for the bike, was donning a black leather jacket and a black helmet with flames painted on the sides. The rider's dark eyes were intently focused on the road ahead, only glancing at the restaurant for a split second before falling back to watching his path. Just as quick as the motion, a decision was made and the bike slowed down, signaling to turn.
Soon in the parking lot of Jon's Burger Stop, the bike rolled carefully into an empty plot near the building. The rider turned off the bikes engine, slowly pulled off his helmet and released a sigh.
Carefully he got off the bike and winced as he put his weight down and stood. With another soft sigh and gentle movement, he managed to crouch down and inspect the side of his bike. No scratches. Front wheel appeared alright as well. The same couldn't be said however for one of his black boots, which now had shred marks on the side of it's sole.
Slowly he stood back up and gingerly leaned onto the bike for support, the tension which wrapped around his features prior beginning to dissolve.
Saber now closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled; He wasn't there for the diner, but to release adrenaline before continuing.
Quote from Adriana on November 16, 2019, 10:59 amI looked up from my coffee cup to meet the gaze of the man at the booth across from me. I didn't recognize him as a regular. It seemed for a moment he was trying to look into my soul, leaving me feeling somewhat exposed.
I wasn't sure how to respond to his question, just let my gaze fall away after a moment. My story wasn't any different from the next woman, who maybe had a deadbeat left her with a kid, and no money, so she had to give her child up to a home or relative. Mine was just a different tale to the same end. But the hurt was universal, always lingering.
"What are you working on over there?" I asked, resting my eyes on his binder briefly. The door opened as another patron came in, and I inhaled habitually, taking in the scents of the outside world to see if it's mood had changed.
I looked up from my coffee cup to meet the gaze of the man at the booth across from me. I didn't recognize him as a regular. It seemed for a moment he was trying to look into my soul, leaving me feeling somewhat exposed.
I wasn't sure how to respond to his question, just let my gaze fall away after a moment. My story wasn't any different from the next woman, who maybe had a deadbeat left her with a kid, and no money, so she had to give her child up to a home or relative. Mine was just a different tale to the same end. But the hurt was universal, always lingering.
"What are you working on over there?" I asked, resting my eyes on his binder briefly. The door opened as another patron came in, and I inhaled habitually, taking in the scents of the outside world to see if it's mood had changed.
Quote from Indy on November 16, 2019, 6:21 pmThe older gentleman didn't seem bothered by the conversation. He brought his pen meaningfully on the sheet, laying down another mark. He chuckled lightly at her question, although waited until he'd finished making his note on a page before responding.
"Oh... just writing stories. It's all I'm any good at, these days," his eyes peered briefly up to hers, but not making the same eye-contact as he had prior. Instead, he only used the opportunity to give her a brief smile, then brought his head down again to his work.
He nodded as the front door jingled for the next unfortunate soul, "You know, writing it all down... it helps, sometimes. Keeps the thoughts organized. Let's you see the mistakes, sure, but with the context of time, gives you the perspective too that maybe it's the best you coulda done".
The older gentleman didn't seem bothered by the conversation. He brought his pen meaningfully on the sheet, laying down another mark. He chuckled lightly at her question, although waited until he'd finished making his note on a page before responding.
"Oh... just writing stories. It's all I'm any good at, these days," his eyes peered briefly up to hers, but not making the same eye-contact as he had prior. Instead, he only used the opportunity to give her a brief smile, then brought his head down again to his work.
He nodded as the front door jingled for the next unfortunate soul, "You know, writing it all down... it helps, sometimes. Keeps the thoughts organized. Let's you see the mistakes, sure, but with the context of time, gives you the perspective too that maybe it's the best you coulda done".
Quote from Adriana on November 16, 2019, 8:02 pm"With all due respect sir," I began, my tone even and voice quiet, "Life has given me quiet enough perspective. Perspective," I said the last word slowly and almost in a whisper, as if each syllable weighed a hundred pounds, "doesn't keep you warm at night." I added, then stood, leaving the coffee. I went out the door, pulling my button up jacket on a little tighter. It was late summer, going into autumn, the first signs of the cold starting to trickle down off the mountains in a cool chill.
My eyes settled on a kid with a bike. He was just a little thing, looked like one of those rebel without a cause types. I wouldn't have paid him much mind, but he seemed just a little unsteady on his feet.
"Hey," I raised my voice just a little. Didn't want him to think I was after that glorified death trap. "Kid, you alright?" I called out, but kept a fair distance.
"With all due respect sir," I began, my tone even and voice quiet, "Life has given me quiet enough perspective. Perspective," I said the last word slowly and almost in a whisper, as if each syllable weighed a hundred pounds, "doesn't keep you warm at night." I added, then stood, leaving the coffee. I went out the door, pulling my button up jacket on a little tighter. It was late summer, going into autumn, the first signs of the cold starting to trickle down off the mountains in a cool chill.
My eyes settled on a kid with a bike. He was just a little thing, looked like one of those rebel without a cause types. I wouldn't have paid him much mind, but he seemed just a little unsteady on his feet.
"Hey," I raised my voice just a little. Didn't want him to think I was after that glorified death trap. "Kid, you alright?" I called out, but kept a fair distance.
Quote from Skyelre on November 16, 2019, 9:55 pmSaber opened his eyes slowly and looked over at Robin. There was a clear hint of annoyance in his eyes from being interupted from his meditation.
" I'm fine." He said evenly.
Saber opened his eyes slowly and looked over at Robin. There was a clear hint of annoyance in his eyes from being interupted from his meditation.
" I'm fine." He said evenly.
Quote from Indy on November 16, 2019, 11:29 pmThe older gentleman nodded to Robin's words, as if she'd merely informed him the weather. His black pen darted across the page. From the top of the half-moon spectacles, he gave her a peaceful sort of glance, as if to say: 'Well. You know best', before pushing his gaze back down to the page.
The older gentleman nodded to Robin's words, as if she'd merely informed him the weather. His black pen darted across the page. From the top of the half-moon spectacles, he gave her a peaceful sort of glance, as if to say: 'Well. You know best', before pushing his gaze back down to the page.
Quote from Adriana on November 18, 2019, 8:56 pmI nodded. Didn't take a step closer. See, I'm genuine. Just checking on you.
"ROBIN!"
I turned my head back over my shoulder; my boss was hanging out the door, coughing up a lung, whilst lighting a cigarette. Never ceased to amaze me.
"Take care kid, be safe out there." I called out before turning on a heel. He probably didn't hear me, probably didn't care if he did. I meant it, anyway. I was his age once. In this world, all it takes is one reckless act.
"Ben called just now, said he's got the flu... can you work a double?" he asked, propping the door open with a hand.
"Ben's been sick three times in the last month. I think he needs an in home nurse, or a new job, he keeps it up." I responded evenly.
"He sounded bad,"
I gave people the benefit of the doubt so long as they didn't stretch it til it broke. Ben was in good with the boss, took him out drinking once or twice, now calls in sick whenever he likes and gets off scotch free. The boss still punches his time card for him.
"I have another job," I began,
"Look, you don't want the hours, forget I asked, but don't expect me to do YOU any favors, you got it? Don't come crying to me for hours if you won't work the ones you're OFFERED."
"Robbie," his name was too close to mine, "If you would let me finish.. I have another job. I cannot stay past four." I added, quietly.
Robbie's knitted brow came unfurled, the tautness of his sweaty bald head loosing somewhat. "Sure, whatever."
I stepped past him and went back into what could only be described as purgatory, moved to the back, put on a waiters apron. Maybe I'd make some tip money. Silver lining.
Now to attend to our customers. All two of them. Stepping up to the table with the older gentleman, I cleared my throat quietly. This was at least a little bit awkward. Our previous interaction, coupled with the fact I'm sure everyone heard Robbie as he had a habit of speaking about ten decibels louder than anyone needed to speak, it was just not one of my shining moments.
"Hello. My name's Robin, and I'll be your waiter. Can I get you more coffee? Some... perspective?" I offered a smile and a small shrug with the last word, trying to make light of our previous conversation, or lack thereof.
I nodded. Didn't take a step closer. See, I'm genuine. Just checking on you.
"ROBIN!"
I turned my head back over my shoulder; my boss was hanging out the door, coughing up a lung, whilst lighting a cigarette. Never ceased to amaze me.
"Take care kid, be safe out there." I called out before turning on a heel. He probably didn't hear me, probably didn't care if he did. I meant it, anyway. I was his age once. In this world, all it takes is one reckless act.
"Ben called just now, said he's got the flu... can you work a double?" he asked, propping the door open with a hand.
"Ben's been sick three times in the last month. I think he needs an in home nurse, or a new job, he keeps it up." I responded evenly.
"He sounded bad,"
I gave people the benefit of the doubt so long as they didn't stretch it til it broke. Ben was in good with the boss, took him out drinking once or twice, now calls in sick whenever he likes and gets off scotch free. The boss still punches his time card for him.
"I have another job," I began,
"Look, you don't want the hours, forget I asked, but don't expect me to do YOU any favors, you got it? Don't come crying to me for hours if you won't work the ones you're OFFERED."
"Robbie," his name was too close to mine, "If you would let me finish.. I have another job. I cannot stay past four." I added, quietly.
Robbie's knitted brow came unfurled, the tautness of his sweaty bald head loosing somewhat. "Sure, whatever."
I stepped past him and went back into what could only be described as purgatory, moved to the back, put on a waiters apron. Maybe I'd make some tip money. Silver lining.
Now to attend to our customers. All two of them. Stepping up to the table with the older gentleman, I cleared my throat quietly. This was at least a little bit awkward. Our previous interaction, coupled with the fact I'm sure everyone heard Robbie as he had a habit of speaking about ten decibels louder than anyone needed to speak, it was just not one of my shining moments.
"Hello. My name's Robin, and I'll be your waiter. Can I get you more coffee? Some... perspective?" I offered a smile and a small shrug with the last word, trying to make light of our previous conversation, or lack thereof.
Quote from Indy on November 18, 2019, 9:08 pmIf the older gentleman noticed the storm raging by, he didn't let on. The older gentleman seemed extremely intent on his pages, munching on his toast, and sipping on his coffee. It seemed there was little room in his mind for much else. When Robin came in her apron, he lifted his head curiously, as if he'd just come out-of-step with the universe and was trying to catch up.
The confusion faded the moment Robbie had marched himself out the door.
"He's a charming one," the old man commented wryly, glancing Robin down once over with some thought, "Can't promise much for perspective, but I'd be betting on karma to catch up to him".
The fellow shrugged simultaneous to jotting something down on his page with intent , "I'm just an old man, don't listen to me. I've clearly gone senile, " he chuckled, "But if you ask me... some people ain't worth the energy, ain't worth the hate. You reap what you sow, put the hate into the world and that's all you'll get back".
The old man glanced at his cup thoughtfully, "Some hot coffee might be nice -- it's the best in town".
If the older gentleman noticed the storm raging by, he didn't let on. The older gentleman seemed extremely intent on his pages, munching on his toast, and sipping on his coffee. It seemed there was little room in his mind for much else. When Robin came in her apron, he lifted his head curiously, as if he'd just come out-of-step with the universe and was trying to catch up.
The confusion faded the moment Robbie had marched himself out the door.
"He's a charming one," the old man commented wryly, glancing Robin down once over with some thought, "Can't promise much for perspective, but I'd be betting on karma to catch up to him".
The fellow shrugged simultaneous to jotting something down on his page with intent , "I'm just an old man, don't listen to me. I've clearly gone senile, " he chuckled, "But if you ask me... some people ain't worth the energy, ain't worth the hate. You reap what you sow, put the hate into the world and that's all you'll get back".
The old man glanced at his cup thoughtfully, "Some hot coffee might be nice -- it's the best in town".
