InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Use your noodle!"

Teritus "Wesley Drakon" Venizelos (tattooed_skin) wrote in halcyon_halls,
@ 2008-10-02 11:39:00

Entry tags:

kat, wes

Week Nineteen: Wednesday
Who: Kat, and Wes
When: Wednesday early evening
Where: The garage, then who knows
What: Lessons in being a biker

The weather had put a slight damper on the plans they had originally made. A first time rider would have a hard enough time, without having to deal with slick roads, mud, and rain clouded the shield on their helmet. Thankfully, the following day seemed to provide more appropriate weather for the lessons. It was still humid as hell, which explained why his unruly hair seemed to have taken on a life of it's own. Even with his old fashioned helmet, it was still bushing out to the point of being ridiculous. Not that he cared, people were used to him looking like a wild, hairy, beast of a guy. Most thought he didn't bathe... which bothered him to some point. You could be unkempt, and still into hygiene, thanks very much. Having lived during a time in history, when sanitation wasn't wide spread, having been exposed to the stench, you came to appreciate a bar of soap. Plumbing, and toilets as well. Fuck, people didn't know how lucky they were this day, and age.

They had agreed to meet in the schools garage, which is where he had headed, after grading a few projects for his class. There were still quite a few that he needed to sort through, but there would be time for those later. He never liked to rush grading. You had to get inside the artist head a bit, try to see where their point of view was going from. If there was true effort, you had to look more deeply into it. Of course, there were those few who simply didn't give a damn, didn't try, and they usually received the same grade. No reward for the lazy. Wes sat on the hood of one of the few cars that littered the garage. Who it belonged it, he had no clue. Not that he cared at the moment, it was some place to plant his ass while he waited for her to join him.

His old helmet rested half way on the hood, half way on the black, and white fabric colored knee of his. Actually, the knees were the only part of his legs not covered in the strange looking trousers. They were cut rather wide open, fared, and ragged. The strange didn't end there, as he paired the pants with a bright yellow t-shirt, with a faded graphic of Bruce Lee on the front. His normal chucks had been traded for a pair of boots though. It had been long enough since he last rode, that he couldn't trust his feet in anything that wouldn't provide a bit of protection. Granted, he would heal if anything happened, but fuck, it would still hurt.

The bike.... yeah, he didn't know what to think. Dull eyes kept sweeping back to the machine every few moments. It wasn't cheap, he knew that. The fact that it was from that kid didn't help either. Why the hell was she fucking around with him? Unless he was magically nicer to her, than anyone else, he didn't get it. Then again, some people were completely different behind closed doors. Nah, that dickhead couldn't be that deep.

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castledown
2008-10-03 03:36 pm UTC (link)

While Kat normally didn't mind the rain and wouldn't have backed down from something because of it, the idea of possibly going sliding off of a cliff wasn't all that appealing. So when it came down to rescheduling, she didn't put up much of a fight. Besides, her bike had been keeping its spot in the garage now for a few days already so what was one more? It also gave her some more time to get her hands on a helmet. Er, find the one she already had. Riiight.

Even though Wes had offered to take her shopping for one, she wasn't about to push this bonding thing anymore than either of them could stand. Instead, she headed into the city before work and arranged to have one painted electric blue with some skulls placed all over it. She couldn't go and clash with her bike now could she? Pfft!

Even though the temptation to show up in some shorts and flip-flops just to make his head explode was there, she opted for some jeans and her Doc Marten steel-toed boots instead. However it was hot as fuck and so he was just going to deal with the Mr. Bubbles t-shirt she was rocking. Who needed arms anyway, right? Heh.

Helmet in hand, she made her way down to the garage when it was time and pulled a face when she saw his pants. Did he go shopping in the dumpster or what? Christ. "Ready?" she asked as she pulled the key out of her pocket. She was all about turning it on but beyond that, she had nothing.

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tattooed_skin
2008-10-03 09:15 pm UTC (link)

Riding in the rain was no big deal, if you knew how to handle yourself with the bike. For learning, it wasn't the best idea, otherwise, he wouldn't have cared. It wasn't like he needed to worry about his make-up running, or a set of nice clothes getting ruined. Ha, nice clothes, and Wes. They just didn't go together, at all. He'd done the monkey suits, back when they were the style for everyone. Hell, he'd even worn a corset when it was fashionable for men to have small waist as well. It was having to live through four hundred years of clothing trends, that made him who he was today. Granted, he hadn't evolved much since the seventies, but who cared? You could still get by with the same shit.

Kat hadn't needed to admit to not having a helmet, for Wes to gather the truth. Yeah, he would have bought her one. He didn't so much see it as bonding, but more so as giving a shit. He'd seen too many people fuck themselves up on bikes, to ever allow one of his kids on one, without taking precautions. Their demon blood would likely mean they would walk away from any gnarly wreck, but he would rather not test that theory. Now, if she hadn't had one when she showed up to the garage.... he would have likely made her wear his, and their first stop would have been that place in the mall. Bit hypocritical, but he had a hard head.

Up top, he didn't care what she wore, so long as the bottom was taken care of. Would he have stopped her, had she shown up not dressed in the way he'd previously advised? Eh, probably not. He would have let the first bit of flying grave on the road way teach her that lesson. You could tell people some things till you were blue in the face, but it wouldn't do as much good, as witnessing first hand would. Their arms would be fine. He hadn't ridden in a while, but he'd keep them up right. After all, he wasn't looking forward to having to fix any tattoos that might get fucked over in the scarring caused by a slide.

"What? Hoped I wouldn't show?" What was that face about? Okay, so he saw it quite often in the shop, but it was usually directed at annoying customers. Hey, the pants weren't that bad. Yeah, so he had, had them for about a decade, and they had been originally purchased in a thrift store, but what was wrong with that? Truth was, these pants usually caused a few eyebrows to raise. You couldn't wear something that looked like it came from the Tim Burton Spring collection, and not. "Yeah. No reason to sit around here any longer. I doubt the owner appreciates the ass imprint I'm leaving behind." He stood, hopping down from the hood of the car, and approaching her. "Nice helmet." He commented, a hit of a smirk on his lips.