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Snippet #2484101

located in Downtown, a part of White Picket Fences and Apple Pie, one of the many universes on RPG.


Where all the cool people go.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cassius Krause Character Portrait: Willow Grumman Character Portrait: Asmodeus
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C a s s i u s

I nodded sagely, listening to Willow's stuttering and stumbling about grandmother-made food and school worries, no pressures, um, appearances. Yeah. That. At a teenagers' stage of development, they have an imaginary audience that jeers and criticizes their every move, but in all reality it is in fact imaginary. Most teenagers are too worried about their own appearances to pelt other teens with insults. Ah the joys of Psych 101 at community college, giving me logic and labels for adolescent troubles. Okay okay, focus on what the person is saying. Focus.

Oh, she's apologizing again. "Still...I am really sorry... I'm... just a huge clutz.... and I totally didn't mean to like.... tackle you." While she fidgeted and adjusted her glasses, I wondered why she was nervous. It's not as though I was a hulking Godzilla about to swallow her whole. Gross. Cannibalism. Well, it would be cannibalism if I was Godzilla, but still gross.

"Not a problem, dear. I mean I've had my fair share of running into people and walls and a tree one time...Although, I'm pretty sure the tree moved so that doesn't really count does it?" I trailed off, pensively reminiscing. Nature doesn't like me as much as I like it. Probably because I set the lake on fire on accident -- stressing the on accident part -- but none of the lake people seem to want to forgive and forget. Whatever.

", you come to Crabapple's allot?" the teenager inquired looking positively uncomfortable. I had that effect on people, so I shrugged it off mentally.

"I come around once in a while, mostly when my hoard of books run...ah what's the word...dry! Yeah, that," I rambled before sneezing; eyes watered. Ugh, I hated allergies and dust. Especially dust mites, those creepy gross looking microscopic demons. "Plus Mrs. Crabapple gives me twenty percent off on my books. She's a sweetheart," I belatedly added.

A chill ran through me even though I worn my comfortable, cornflower blue sweater. The old store probably had a draft, but no, the chill wasn't from a sudden drop in Fahrenheit. It was a more creeper-alert-be-wary chill. "Ever get that weird feeling you're being watch?" I asked this clichéd phrase, glancing around in paranoia. You can never be too young to be paranoid.