exsiliumlogs | short people got no business

Entry tags:

short people got no business

Date & Time: Days after Uruguay, business hours
Location: A SHOP!!!
Characters: Adra, Jericho
Summary: Tale as old as time strangers bumping into each other AND THEN THINGS HAPPEN
Warnings: ??/

[he needs another box of pencils. overflow stock is kept at the very top of the shelves in that store, just out of reach of grasping, straining fingers. Jericho's, anyway – he still has a great deal of growing to do, shelving or no. still, it's right there...frustratingly there.

with a little huff he steps back, head craned to stare at the box, mouth tugged with a doubtful frown.

well, he can ask for help...but. he needs the pencil to write down the request, otherwise spend an embarrassing amount of time trying to gesture help over and make his wants clear. maybe he should go all the way back to the apartment to get his communicator?

no, he'll...he'll just stretch again and reach. just one more time!]

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[Adrasteius finds himself in fairly regular need of pens and paper--he's already filled one journal since arriving in Exsilium, and he's in the market for another. He's frowning at the thin selection when, ears twitching, he notices the boy struggling to get at a box of pencils.

Adrasteius doesn't have much reach, himself, but he does have magic. With a little sigh, he walks over to the boy, glances from him to the shelf, and then animates the pencils to come down of their own accord.]

There you are, son.

[he starts at the sound of a body approaching, settling on flat feet to turn and stare, and stare more intently because hey – hey, it's one of those elfy-looking guys! not Vanadi, though, some other elfy-guy.

he's too busy acknowledging elfitude to realize there's a box of pencils floating down from on high, so he does give a silent gasp and react when they fall into his line of sight. in startling that way, his arm that's got his sketchbook tucked under it jerks and sends everything falling to the ground, notes and sketches and all. what a mess.

suddenly surrounded in a tiny swirl of chaos, Jericho's hands lift, deciding to fix physics first and grab the box of pencils before dropping down to tend to the pages that had broken from the binding...and those that hadn't, but were now bent under the weight. oh, no. :( all those doodles of pigeons and sewer rats and people on benches...]

[Goddamn, that didn't go as well as he'd hoped. Alarmed, Adrasteius kneels down to help with gathering everything together again, his mind spinning quickly as he takes in the boy before him. He hasn't said a word yet, and it doesn't make sense that he wouldn't outright ask for help--unless he was incapable of doing so.]

Sorry about that. I forget that most of this world isn't accustomed to magic.

[Because it sucks. His face turns temporarily irritated as he meditates on that truth, but then he notices the drawings. Hmm. Picking up a random sketch like he's entitled to it, Adrasteius examines the paper carefully, appraising.]

These are quite good, you know.

[Jericho's face fills in some of the gaps his lack of voice leaves behind, shifting between that near-frantic grimace, trying to smooth out the bends in some of the pages, and an embarrassed, flustered smile for Adra, who is only trying to help.

not much magic? his head tilts to the side a little with a nod. yeah, that's true...but there's a bunch of folks who can rock the magic side, right? Jericho's seen a little, here and there. heck, his own teammate's powers seem more like magic than anything else! the smile gets a little empathetic at that note of distaste: it's gotta be hard to not have many people with magic in common, right? he can...sort of understand that, in his own ways.

but his head lifts up and he blinks at the sudden critique. huh? what–? oh...OH. Jericho's face flushed rather quickly, seeing his work on display there.

HOW TAKE PRAISE..........

he's just gonna duck his head and try to quickly gather up those that haven't been seen by ~~human~~elfy eyes yet. RUSTLE RUSTLE. SHIFT SHUFFLE.]

[Adra returns everything he's picked up, and he even refrains from riffling through it. It's clear that his remark left the boy flustered, and while Adra might ferociously pursue that reaction in any number of other people, he's not going to prod at a mute child.]

Got it all?

[He stands up slowly, dusting off his robes. His muscles, such as they are, ache. He's been walking around for too much of the day already.]

[well, everything's all out of order and in less-than-pristine condition, but...Jericho nods, still cataloging. yes, everything seems to be there. he does tilt and shoot a quick glance at the base of the shelving, just in case something's slipped underneath. no? no. good.

he looks up, smiling shyly. with everything set on his knees for the moment, he has a hand free to lift and sign the thank you he mouths. he tucks everything up and slowly stands, letting out a light sigh. crisis averted? crisis averted.

but he's not forgotten good manners. he arranges everything to hold on one arm, extending his free hand. hello.]

[Adrasteius takes the boy's hand; his own is curiously, unnaturally warm.]

Nice to meet you, kiddo. My name's Adrasteius. How about yours?

[he ducks his head, smiling, a pretty quick handshaker himself, with good reason; gotta free up that hand to speak.

and he has "j" on his pinky finger before realizing, with a flash of self-consciousness, that sign...sign might not work? he can never be sure, and it's as awkward for the "listener" as it was for him, more often than not.

so...so the pinky goes down, the index goes up in that (as far as he knows) universal one moment kind of way, before pointing at his goods, the counter...

he's gotta pay up for those pencils before he can put them to some use!

his expression is wincing, shy. he doesn't want to be perceived rude.]

[Adrasteius understands the situation quickly--ah. The boy needs the pencils. Although Adra's capable of speaking a number of languages from his own world, signs are not among them. He steps aside with a nod, to allow the boy to finish his business.]

Right. Take your time.

[he flashes a quick, relieved smile before nodding, hastening to get this whole paying-for-things-like-a-good-citizen thing out of the way. he does have to raise a hand to his ear to inquire the price a second time, the cashier having mumbled it a bit too low and him a bit too distracted to have caught it all. but other than that, nothing to extraordinary. kid paying for pencils.

Jericho lingers at the far end of the cashier's counter to flip open his sketchbook – careful to not jostle the pages broken off the spiral binding too much – to a fresh page, quickly scrawling down what he needed to say before seeking Adra back out.

he holds the book up, his expression halved: mouth and nose hidden behind the pages. still, his eyebrows do the questioning:]

Thank you for helping me out!! :)
I'm Jericho.
How do you spell your name?

[Adra gestures to the pad and pencil.]

May I?

[with only a slight, habitual hesitation, Jericho nods, tilting both – pencil pressed flat against the page – to Adra.]

[Back in Azeroth, Adrasteius makes a living as a scribe--someone who puts together enchanted paper, essentially. As a result, his penmanship is flowing and calligraphic. He writes 'Adrasteius' in this script across the bottom half of the page.]

Like that.

[huh...

when he gets it back, Jericho lifts and tilts the sketchbook slightly, surveying the name twice-over: first, obviously, to get the letter order right. second to admire the cleanliness of the curls.

he gives a couple quick glances up to the writer and back to the letters as he considers this, his mouth quirking on one side. it...suits! he thinks. something flowy and neat like that coming from someone looking like this.

he looks up and smiles, nodding his approval. nice!]

[WHAT A SWEET CHILD. Skinny child, too ... ]

Well! Now that we've been introduced ... [he pauses, thinking.] I don't suppose you had any big plans for your lunch?

[he blinks. it doesn't take much thought, but...

well, no! he shakes his head, his shoulders shrugging up quickly. he supposes he doesn't. his eyebrows quirk, pointing between them. is it going to be lunch for two?]

You can come along, then, if you'd like. I was about to start cooking.

[he gestures for Jericho to follow as he starts out of the store. It's at this point that a number of bags, heretofore seated placidly near the shop's entrance, suddenly become animated. They lift into the air and float along behind Adra as he walks. Groceries peek out from their tops--eggs, lettuce, that sort of thing.]

[the bag train makes him hesitate, gaping for a moment. man, Raven can do stuff like that, but it's still strange to see!

Jericho trails along beside it, hugging his own stuff to his chest so he can lean forward a little and peer about, just...y'know. just checking for strings or whatnot. what do magicians use? mirrors or something?

but there's none of that here, so he quickly trots ahead to match step with Adra, kind of grinning sheepishly. sorry, it's fascinating! magic stuff, that is.]

[No strings at all; just pure arcane energy! Adra doesn't seem to mind, and he doesn't walk very quickly as it stands; he has the gait of someone much older than he appears.

Once they reach the apartments, Adra shows Jericho in.]

You can sit out in the common room or come into the kitchen if you like. I was thinking about vegetable soup and some pasta--you know, the kind coated in cheese. Something hearty, for the cold weather.

[it feels a little less imposing, returning to the apartments. in fact, it makes Jericho think of it being just a big house everyone shares. he's a bit more relaxed now, ducking his head as he steps in – pardon the intrusion! – and looks about.

he only gets a fleeting glimpse of the place before darting his gaze back to Adra for a listen. he smiles, nodding at the suggestion. it's been a while since he's had a good soup...

oh, but! he lifts a hand to wave him to wait a second, pulling his pencil out of the notepad again:]

Should I do anything to help?

[Adra waves his hand dismissively.]

No, child; I've got it under control. Just sit somewhere and get warmed up.

[He's pulling things from the bags as he speaks--the vegetables, the beef, and so on. Very soon, the air is filled with the sound of several animated knives dicing up all of these ingredients, as well as the buttery scent of seasoned, boiling water.]

[sitting. he can do that.

Jericho sits.

...and fidgets, hands folding and unfolding in his lap. twisting his toes into the carpet. looking around...

he leans forward, peering toward the kitchen, big eyes gawking.]

[Ordinarily, the silence would unnerve Adra, but Jericho is so expressive with his face and body language that he's not bothered. He finishes his preparations quickly--thanks, magic--and pretty soon a tray of food is floating into the room. The tray, set with several bowls of steaming vegetable soup and creamy mac'n'cheese, sets itself down on the coffee table. Adrasteius follows after it, his forehead beaded with sweat.]

There you are. Dig in.

[Adrasteius collapses into the nearest chair. Doesn't seem like he plans to eat much himself.]

[between Raven's telekinesis and this guy's magic, man...Jericho's a bit jealous of all these cool powers! and cool looks; he managed to sneak a few glances (he hopes so; it's rude to stare!) at the tattoos–

oh, but. food. right! he sits up at attention, setting his things aside and scooting to the edge of the seat to lean and peer down at the veritable feast before him. made for him, even?

'wow' is on his lips and in his expression, lingering as he looks up, startling a little at Adra's posture. and the look on his face...

Jericho's expression crinkles with concern. are you alright?]

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