Tweak

InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "The lad's a genius."

Username: 
Password:    
Remember Me
  • Create Account
  • IJ Login
  • OpenID Login
Search by : 
  • View
    • Create Account
    • IJ Login
    • OpenID Login
  • Journal
    • Post
    • Edit Entries
    • Customize Journal
    • Comment Settings
    • Recent Comments
    • Manage Tags
  • Account
    • Manage Account
    • Viewing Options
    • Manage Profile
    • Manage Notifications
    • Manage Pictures
    • Manage Schools
    • Account Status
  • Friends
    • Edit Friends
    • Edit Custom Groups
    • Friends Filter
    • Nudge Friends
    • Invite
    • Create RSS Feed
  • Asylums
    • Post
    • Asylum Invitations
    • Manage Asylums
    • Create Asylum
  • Site
    • Support
    • Upgrade Account
    • FAQs
    • Search By Location
    • Search By Interest
    • Search Randomly

Keisuke Uesugi ([info]catchyourshadow) wrote in [info]haunted_roads,
@ 2008-03-05 13:13:00

Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry
Entry tags:keisuke, sophie

Week 3: Monday
Who: Keisuke and Open
Where: Walking back towards the Towers
When: Monday Night
Rating: TBA

Keisuke had finally finished giving his assistant all the paperwork that he'd finished with in the last two weeks. Translation of the latest journals that the publishing company he was currently signed up with had been easy, if a little boring. He'd resisted the urge to correct some of the grammer and terminology in the original, disappointed and amused at the same time that Japanese had changed so much through the centuries. Honorifics, titles, even the ending of phrases changed. Sometimes he felt he had to work just as hard with his mother tongue as he did with learning English, just so he didn't sound awkwardly anachronistic, with formal speech that had long fallen out of use.

The girl he'd met with had pretty eyes hidden behind thick ugly black plastic glasses. She'd been snuffling continuously and had apologized profusely that she'd caught a cold and she hope she wouldn't give it to him. He'd made no response, merely continuing to let her know which documents needed to be mailed to Los Angeles, which needed to be edited and sent back.  He did not enjoy dealing with postal services, even UPS, FED-EX, AIR, or any of the companies. Something about mail and mailing things seemed like such an annoyance, a rushed way of doing things. "We'll have it there by midnight!" No. He'd leave all of the messy paperwork detail to the book-keeping assistant that the local publishing sister company had. She didn't seem to mind and in fact had mentioned once that she enjoyed starting her work later because of his later "hours of inspiration". She and his publisher both knew that Keisuke did his work best when uninterrupted during the evening and sleeping through the day. Being an eccentric artist had its benefits.

Wrapping the loosened scarf he had on more tightly around the neck of his dress shirt, he paused for a brief moment as he walked down the darkened streets of Seattle, sporadic cars whizzing by in their hurry to be where they needed to. He was running low on gauche and he'd been thinking of finishing up the watercolor work he'd been fiddling with since last week. He remember there to be an arts and crafts shop somewhere nearby but given his lack of explorations thus far, he couldn't pinpoint exactly where it was in his fuzzy memory. Seeing not many people on the street, he wondered if he'd be luckier braving a stranger for directions or wandering into a nearby cafe or store to ask for the way.

Standing there, slightly tousled black hair falling over his eyes a little, black dress shirt paired with a thin grey and white scarf over loose slacks, he had a look of blank uncertainty even as he touched his finger to his lips in thought. The black handkerchief he'd tied in the morning, shifted downwards a little, but remained tight, paired with the black leather gloves he wore to cover his sun scarred hands. Finally deciding, he turned a little, looking around to see who looked like they wouldn't mind being bothered for directions.

(Post a new comment)


[info]felonious_punk
2008-03-07 08:12 am UTC (link)
Monday night. School night. Not like Sophie gave a damn. Anyway, it was barely even nine o’clock, and though social mores might dictate otherwise, Sophie knew herself to be too old for such imposed restrictions on her liberties. Besides, Maggie was out with that Irish punkass “business man”. Sure it was import/export. A fancy word for smuggling. She had a feeling semantics were a very large part of all his business transactions.

Soon as Maggie was gone Sophie was out the door behind her. She had shit to do too, thank you very much. Mostly it involved scoring a dimebag and meeting up with her bandmates. They were scheduled for a gig on Thursday, and everyone was anxious to ensure everything was perfect. They hadn’t been playing together long so not like these gigs were commonplace. Yet. They would be soon, eventually, hopefully. That was why it was important to get this shit right. Tonight was still a little up in the air however, astwo of the three others had to work until late.

Sophie wasn’t really the kind anyone would bother for directions. She didn’t exactly have ‘approachable’ written across her forehead. Not that she was really as rude as she might appear, but out on the streets Sophie did not carry herself as a victim. Not ever. That was lesson one in knowing how to survive. And a girl left withot a father at a young age didn’t have the luxury of imagining bad things could never happen to her.

She saw him though, and when she did, when she was close enough that is, and recognized him, Sophie smirked faintly. She’d almost forgotten about the bracelet, but she hadn’t at all forgotten the meeting. He was really a bit too interesting to forget. Clearly he'd been around the world, or at least to Japan. Sophie envied him for all of his opportunities, for all he’d seen and done. Granted, she had no knowledge of any of it, just a bit of an imagination, and assumptions based on the little bit she did know. He was Japanese, he was sophisticated, and he was educated.

And yet, he didn’t leave her feeling like she wanted to gauge his eyes out, ala Daren the devil.

“Confused?” she started, a teasing smile on her face. “Home is that way,” she motioned with her head back in the direction she’d just come from. “The big gloomy looking building behind me.”

(Reply to this) (Thread)


[info]catchyourshadow
2008-03-07 08:27 am UTC (link)
He heard her steps a few seconds before he sensed her stepping towards him. The girl had a familiar scent, something artificial, a cleanser or something she handled during the day perhaps. He could not place the smell but instantly recognized it as belonging to the girl from the other day. The supposed owner of the silver bracelet he'd chanced upon. He'd been dubious then, but ready to leave for an appointment with his new assistant and decided that better to have her deal with the jewelry than to have to hold onto it until who knows when. He noted at first glance that her wrists, which though were not bare, were also not bearing the bracelet. Pawned perhaps, he thought, watching her faintly hungry eyes. She seemed the type, likely to hit thrift shops or pawn stores for treasures perhaps.

Her smile was teasing as she looked him over, eying his worn and worse for wear converses.

"Home is that way."

He gave her a small, ghostly smile that barely touched his face.

"I was wondering where the nearest arts store is. I remembered passing one by in the taxi when I first arrived here." His voice was not very loud, but yet it carried a graceful firmness, a way of speaking carried over from his Japanese childhood. Uesugi had told him, speak with the grace and flow of a river, but carry within yourself the strength of a double-edged sword. His words slurred a little on the more unfamiliar consonant sounds, the R turning almost into a double L.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)


[info]felonious_punk
2008-03-07 11:19 pm UTC (link)
Suave probably. Or something equally as guilty. Another area Sophie and Maggie just flat out disagreed. When Sophie bought she went for something anti-establishment, fair-trade, and made with earth friendly ingredients. But Maggie was a lot more conformist then that, the kind to think if it was okay for the masses it was okay for her. If the government was ok with it, then it couldn’t possibly be bad. Right?

Exactly.

Cleansers weren’t the only thing they disagreed on of course. Maggie was a woman of the highest, if not often misguided, integrity. Honest always. She would never lie nor would she ever steal. Sophie did both whenever and wherever she was so inclined. As long as she saw an opportunity to get away with it. And sometimes even when she knew she’d be caught. Now that was a bit of a rush.

Like when she acquired the silver bracelet from Cowboy BeBop here.

Yes, Sophie’s knowledge of Japanese pop culture was pretty limited. Not her fault most of the slash crazed anime freaks had really turned her off. There had to be something more. She knew there was. Like the Japanese affinity for beauty and practicality in the every day. Most anarchists were considered to have a love of chaos, and maybe Sophie did, but only in the sense that pummeled against the wall of conformity. This did not preclude an appreciation for culture. Others, and even her own.

So when she did hit up thrift shops, the reasons were threefold. Cheap, recycled, and untypical. Sophie tended toward unusual pieces from other cultures.

“Arts store? You mean like Michaels?” Sophie tilted her head, questioning him in a tone as vacuous as so many other girls her age. The kind she held in contempt for their eagerness to wallow in the mundane. She didn’t really believe he meant Michaels, as that was an art supply store. More likely, what he wanted was an art gallery. Like the one around the corner.

“Or do you mean Chroma?” God she hoped so. Far more interesting than any old bourgeois Michaels.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)


[info]catchyourshadow
2008-03-07 11:50 pm UTC (link)
Keisuke watched the girl stare at him curiously, as if trying to put a price, a story to him. He was not the type of man to worry about his looks past polite consideration for social etiquette, and comfort. His clothes were bought at small boutiques or stores he found along the side streets of cities, a random shirt here, a pair of slacks there. He almost never bother getting a fitted sized outfit either. Pants that were loose were more comfortable to walk or crouch in, something he had to do often while painting...or hunting. Shirts he liked to layer, and though they often followed the general contour of his body, they almost always hung loose on his shoulders and draped past his palms or fingers. In a far-stretched way, the looseness reminded him of the clothes he'd worn in another time, long ago, layered cotton and silk fabrics that brushed against your skin as you walked.

He pulled out the hand he'd stuck in his left pocket and rubbed his chin.

"Not Michaels. I'm not sure what the name was. It had a small entrance, with a heavy old-fashioned door?"

He had not been paying much attention that night, the flight tiresome and noisy, the baggage claim taking much too long, and even the taxi driver had seemed to bear some invisible grudge towards him. In fact, the only reason he remembered the store was the splash of color and canvases dimly visible in the light reflected window.

Keisuke didn't care much for Michaels; the supplies were varied and the large chain-stores convenient, but many things there were sub-quality, cheap and generic, stuff whored out to the masses. Another inconvenience was that what supplies were of quality was often out of stock or to be dug out from a low unwanted corner due to the fact that less people bought the higher-quality, and more expensive supplies. He'd gone to a Michael's once or twice while in LA, but he'd much preferred scouting out smaller art stores, especially ones that double as art galleries or exhibit halls for local artist. It was much more interesting to see paintings used the actual paints actually sold in the same store.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)


[info]felonious_punk
2008-03-08 06:20 am UTC (link)
That part was pretty hot actually. How none of his pieces looked like they were put together in some cookie cutter factory. Most people thought there options were A: Dress like every other person of your approximate age and size, or B: Spend a years allowance on one shirt that establishes how big the stick lodged in your ass is. Sophie hated both options.

There was beauty in that they weren’t perfectly symmetrical. It was more artistic to have some imperfection. What was our greatest example of beauty after all, but nature? And nature was filled with imperfections. Imperfect pieces that came together perfectly.

What did Sophie wear? Whatever the girls her age were not wearing. Mostly she scavenged thrift shops for old concert tee’s than hacked those up to make her own t-shirt designs. Yes, Sophie was a DIY kind of girl. Mom was likely actually proud of that fact. And in truth, Sophie was glad she’d taught her to sew and to knit and crochet and the like. She was actually pretty good at it. When she wanted to be.

Whatever she had on tonight however was hidden beneath an oversized and ancient pea coat that had once belonged to her father. Sometimes sentimental, the coat was a prime example. Sometimes she imagine she could still smell him in the jacket. Beneath it was a homemade hoodie, skinny jeans, circa 1985, Sophie’s favorite Vans, and several layers of tee’s. Hey, it gets fucking cold in Seattle in February.

Sophie thought about it and really wasn’t sure, this was after all, the oldest part of town… a lot of the doors were old fashioned, and several had small entrances. Of course, not all of them were art stores. “I don’t know if it’s what you’re looking for, but there is a cool shop nearby called A&C, Artist and Craftsman Supply. Lame name, I know, but they have great shit. Not a paint by numbers or sun catcher kit or fucking Shrinky Dink to be found. Right next to an all night coffee shop.” She shrugged. “I could use a coffee, come on I’ll walk with you if you want to check it out.”

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)


[info]catchyourshadow
2008-03-08 07:47 am UTC (link)
The girl looked thoughtful for a second, the unconscious way she glanced to the side and forgot to keep a tough exterior type expression on her face suddenly accenting her youth. She was pretty when she wasn't trying to act tough, her face framed with dark hair, her bone structure well formed but not delicate. The large coat she had on hid all signs of a womanly figure. He noted the skinny jeans. He never really understood that fashion. Why would you accentuate the thinness and frailty of your legs? He mentally shook his head. This was a part of being young that he never experienced apparently.

The temperature had fallen more, the sun long gone and the heat that had been sucked up by the pavement during the day had long since dissipated. The air was getting the chilliness of a coastal feel and he glanced up to check if the skies were clear. He did not particularly enjoy the idea of being caught like a wet dog, out in the rain.

He nodded at her. He had all the time in the world really, and from the way she talked, she was curious about him it seemed. It would be nice to get a general feel of the area through a local, and children were much more likely to share their private thoughts than more reserved adults.

"I'll buy you a cup." The offer seemed polite enough to be legitimate, personal enough to entice the other, and yet drawing the other into a position of slight loss of power. His fledgling sister had drilled into Keisuke the skills of establishing relations with humans centuries ago. Although he would never be as skilled as her, milking presents and favors from left and right, nor did he want to, her lessons taught him the ability to survive in a world that required him to hide his existence.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)


[info]felonious_punk
2008-03-08 09:56 pm UTC (link)
Sophie was pretty. She knew this, having eyes and a brain. She did however prescribe to “the established standards” of this society, and in fact, rejected them. This did not mean that she kept herself hidden beneath some heavy blanket of cosmetics, nor did it mean she eschewed them altogether. She did after all have an appreciation for aesthetics. Nothing at all wrong with accenting your strengths. Anyway, to shun every aspect of any given society was to conform diametrically. Sophie didn’t rebel for the sake of rebellion, she did so because she truly was opposed to some things. To revolt against everything indiscriminately would come across as nothing more than a cacophonous, childish conniption. She knew a lot of those. They weren’t going to affect any change in the world and they really didn’t want to. Most didn’t know what they wanted, just knew it wasn’t what they had.

That loss of power only worked with those who allowed it. Women typically. “Polite” people. Sophie’s politeness only went so far as she allowed it. Not a sociology or psychology expert by any stretch, still she knew enough to know how some were users and some were victims, and that she had no intention ever of falling into that latter category. So what did that mean exactly? Was she somewhere in the middle? Perhaps. Though in general, Sophie had a problem with the middle of the road. All the sheep standing in the middle of the road were the ones to get run over.

Of course, Sophie had yet to experience those of higher powers truly exerting them over her. Not that she believed in the supernatural. Ghosts? Maybe. Vampires? Suuure. If you're into hallucinogens, or just plain crazy.

“Cool,” came her almost bouncy response. What? She could be bubbly. It was called youth. And Sophie was not to be labeled. She was no more emo, dark, or goth, than she was a prep. Okay, so her leanings were more toward the dark, but those were just leaning. Anyway, she really did like the idea of a quad venti soy latte right about now.

“This way,” she gestured, a long slender digit poking out from beneath the too long sleeves of the pea coat. The even longer sleeve of the hoodie beneath was revealed, with her thumb poking out a purposely placed hole. “You smoke?” She asked as she began walking in the appointed direction, not really caring one way or the other. Her right hand disappeared into her front coat pocket to retrieve a cigarette case and lighter. Opening it, she offered one in his direction as she retrieved one for herself.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)


[info]catchyourshadow
2008-03-10 06:45 pm UTC (link)
Keisuke was born into a time of superstitions and religion but he never was quite influenced by either. That was one of the handful of things that his Uesugi-sama had never been able to persuade him to change views on. Although his master was quite religious, praying, making offerings, taking long trips to shrines and holy mountains and temples, Keisuke merely served him and followed him. His bows and hours spent in kiza were merely part of his dedication to his master and not out of any religious affinity to pour out his soul for a god carved of stone. The only person he ever considered worthy of the dedication of his soul was Uesugi.

Years, decades, centuries later, he still did not care for the belief of religions, of the people dedicated to their fervor for an unseen power, an answer in the night. He knew the only answer that came was enshrouded in darkness-the unseen shadows in the night were those of demons and not angels. Hell was a place to house people like him. It was a fact that he'd known years ago, one that he'd accepted with the same matter-of-fact attitude that he'd accepted the other decisions in his life.

He shook his head a little as the girl offered out her half open pack of cigarettes. He smoked on occasion, usually more out of the need for social interaction, but he was not fond of the musty smell that clung to his clothes afterwards, his heightened senses causing him to note the scent for weeks on time.

"No. I'm fine." Their footsteps were not very loud, muffled by the pounding rushed sounds of the city's nightlife. His hands went into his pocket, what little of the soft leather gloves left showing was covered by his long sleeved dress shirt.

"You are a student?" He asked, slightly hooded eyes looking over to the girl smoking.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)


[info]felonious_punk
2008-03-11 04:55 am UTC (link)
Sophie wasn’t influenced by religion. But she didn’t discount it either. A lot of people she knew did, especially those in the Anarcho movement. Some were downright anti-religion. And maybe she should have been, maybe in a way she was. But she actually disagreed with most of them about it being something to get so worked up about. She couldn’t discount spirituality after all, and a lot of people were actually helped by their faith. Far be it for her to say whether their faith was misplaced or not. Freedom to her mean freedom for all… not just the ones that thought and believed the same as she did. No, she had no desire to topple steeples the way many of her contemporaries did.

There had once been a sweet little girl, baptized in the same church her mother had been and later, received her first communion in the same church. These things were important, even if Maggie had not put much stock in them. Today Sophie didn’t get her mother playing games she didn’t really believe in, or maybe she just felt like Sophie, that she wasn’t really sure one way or the other. Regardless, there were times when Sophie pined for simpler times, for gentler days when her heart was not so weary. Those days always involved her family, but at times also involved that church, the nuns, the prayers, and spirituality. She missed those days, such easy days. Relatively. But life went on, didn’t it. People grew, and hearts hardened.

Sophie shrugged, not caring one way or another. Her own smoke was lit and coils of it drifted outward with each breath before disappearing into the heavy air. “You could call it that.” She replied truthfully. “I do like to learn.” She added, with equal honesty. “Usually I find the offerings woefully lacking, you know? So… I’ve had to seek out my own knowledge a lot of the time.” Sophie spent a lot of time in detention.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)


[info]catchyourshadow
2008-03-12 06:39 am UTC (link)
"Seek out your own knowledge?" Keisuke asked politely as he tilted his head a little to look at her from the side. He liked talking with children much more than he did adults. Most adults he found were jaded, hardened either from stupidity and the monotony that came with living short brief lives, or too fearful of change or differences to adjust their way of thinking to new ideas. Keisuke liked hearing the younger generations with their thoughts of change and making a difference, even if it was only in their own lives. Keisuke no longer had the option to change even if he wanted to. The only end that awaited him was a painful death one day. But he did not dwell on this.

"What do you like to learn about?" Keisuke did not have any real long term goals for being in the United States. A change of pace, a change of environment, a chance to try and get out from a world stained in blood, death and old memories had been the driving force to push him away from Japan. And America was a nice change. It had different people, none that he built bonds with, different clans, none that he'd formally sought out, and a chance to forget the faces of dead companions he'd collected and lost over the years.

Akito had given him a long once over when he'd finally taken his leave of the ageless sire, the older vampire as cold and haughtily handsome as the day he'd introduced himself to Keisuke in the Imperial Court and sealed the young page's fate. "Carry on there then. Make sure to stay in contact. After all, if I need you, you will return." He'd said, almost mockingly reminding him of his ties both in spoken promises and shed blood. The thinner and younger vampire childe knew though, what tied him to the land of the rising sun would never be the vampire that turned him. No, what haunted the edges of his thoughts and forever would cause him to feel the need to return was the memories of the man, the human he would always call master.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)


[info]felonious_punk
2008-03-20 04:20 am UTC (link)
Whatever it was that caused adults to become so apathetic as they aged, Sophie hoped it never happened to her. It seemed like death really, such mindless conformity. Maybe in a way it was death, to be beaten down so much that all one can do is just shrug and give up, give in, and go shop at Walmart… all the while hating themselves for it.

Sophie now shrugged, but not in blind acceptance, merely a gesture for the moment and the question, not for a life wasted. “Everything really. Other cultures, their histories, their people, their philosophy, their art and literature, their music. The things that matter. Sophie had no interest in reading People Magazine or any book written by Barbara Cartland. Crap like that was the reason so many people were as stupid as they were. And it was like they fucking reveled in it. Sophie just didn’t get it/ She’d rather read something that actually tested her brain, rather than placed it in a state of atrophy.

“What about you?” She asked, already in essence, going after gaining her own bit of knowledge off of him. “What kind of things do you like to learn about?” She took a slow drag as she watched him for the answer.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)


[info]catchyourshadow
2008-03-20 07:03 am UTC (link)
Keisuke had been only a young child, big eyes and a soft voice, when he'd been sighted by his Lord Uesugi. The older man had noted his eye for words, the formal and graceful way he recited his books and words, and taken the boy from his current master as his own. Life would have been very different if he had not been chosen to be Uesugi's personal page. In fact, he probably would never have met his sire, never have been turned, never be living in a living death the way he was. But he also would have never been taught the power of words, to learn about religions, strategies, battle tactics and classics. The warlord had made sure that Keisuke understood that true power lay in the mind just as much, if not more, than in the body. Uesugi had been a powerful fighter, his prowl on the battlefields as famous as his cultured personality.

All of this he passed onto Keisuke, though the vampire was never as physically able as his master. Keisuke learned words and books, read and studied everything from Chinese classics to imperial decrees though. His studies made Uesugi proud, his knowledge made him special to the lord, one of the few things he felt he could excel at in those days.

Now, centuries later, Keisuke survived as much on that knowledge as he had then. His occasional jobs translating classics were filled with reading in a language and dialect he had been ingrained with as a child. Every time he completed another book, finished another paper, he would touch the tattoo on his wrist in memory and thanks to the man that had taught him to appreciate knowledge. The girl's words stirred his memories of his childhood days and a smile lightly graced his lips.

"Ah...I study Japanese classics and art. I get to know a little of everything in the arts, I suppose."

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)


[info]felonious_punk
2008-03-22 01:30 am UTC (link)
“Oh,” Sophie found his answer a little lacking. Not that learning the arts and literature of only one culture was all that odd, especially when it was his own. But that he would be living a world away to do so… that was what she found to be strange. Of course, it was possible that his work brought him here. But Sopjie believed that where one’s heart was, that was what they learned. From that, she’d guess his heart to be in Japan.

Why people would take work for something that dragged them so far away from their hearts, she did not get. No amount of money could compensate for that loss.

“Is that all?” She asked, knowing as she did, that most in his culture would find such line of questioning to be rude. But they weren’t in his country, now were they? No, they were right here in the good ol’ US of A, where people weren’t always expected to be so hung up on manners. Sophie at least, thought they were at times, overrated.

“I mean, wouldn’t it be easier to find all that in Japan rather than Seattle, Washington?

“Here we are.” She said suddenly, coming to a stop in front of the coffee house.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)


[info]catchyourshadow
2008-03-22 04:42 am UTC (link)
The disappointment she tried to hide from her voice made Keisuke smile a little. You could always tell when you were speaking to someone who was still young. Their dreams and hopes were still something to aspire towards, not to remember with fondness. Keisuke looked out into the street with its rushing cars and lighted sidewalks. Yes, it really was quite disappointing, being here, away from his homeland.

"It would indeed. But I currently work as a translator for a company in United States. And art I can create anywhere...Seattle offers a nice place for inspiration."

He pushed the door open to the coffee house she'd guided them to, the colors and smells both gourmet and unique. It was a good choice, different and much better than the Starbucks that speckled the streets of the urban city.

"I came to experience something different from back home, I suppose."

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)


[info]felonious_punk
2008-03-22 06:36 am UTC (link)
“Eh, I guess. Depends on what you’re painting I guess.” If you liked rain, there was plenty of inspiration. She shrugged, then nodded. “Yeah.” Given a little thought it was true her hometown did have a lot to offer. And though the Starbucks enterprise was one of those offerings, it was not a favorite of Sophie’s. Fucking corporate monster had shut down half of the city’s more beatnik, mom and pop type coffee houses, and was poised to send the rest to the same fate. Like the corporate, heartless monster Starbucks was they swallowed those esthetic shops whole and spit out dilettante counterfeits in their place.

“And have you?” She asked, in response to his words on experiencing something new. He had the door open, Sophie dropped her cigarette on the ground and smashed it beneath her toes. Fucking Smoking Ban.

A moment later they were standing inside the quaint shop. All around were groups of people deep in discussion, though there would be a larger crowd on the roof, since that was the only place smoking was allowed. Coffee and cigarettes, a stimulus to deep discussion. Though some were smoking more than cigarettes, and that too was fine by Sophie.

A simple choice for Sophie when they reached the counter. In fact, the barista knew it by heart and spoke it aloud before Sophie opened her mouth. “Double soy latte, 2 raw sugars, for here.” He winked. Sophie grinned back. She looked at her escort “Name your poison.”

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)


[info]catchyourshadow
2008-03-22 07:03 am UTC (link)
"It makes for wonderful gloomy pictures," Keisuke replied to comment on the rain, almost teasing except for the straight face. The surrounding skies were almost perpetually cloud covered, the nights shadowed in smoky skies, the stars a rare sighting, teasing in its scattered decorating of the night. The strong smell of smoke, coffee, and warm human breath met his nose as they entered. His eyes caught the many faces, some bent in discussion, others with their drinks in hand. He noticed at least two notebook computers, their owners bent over, coffee on one side of the lit screens. Technology had swallowed the human race. It did make it simpler for vampires as well, he had to admit.

"A little. Everything is still new here." He dipped his head down a little, out of deference to the barista as he glanced at the menu.

"Cappuccino please. For here."

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)


[info]felonious_punk
2008-03-22 07:24 pm UTC (link)
“Ah, I see… emo boy, are you? Got it.” She replied just as teasingly, and just as straight faced. “Got to be good for something. I mean, aside from the lush green foliage. Seattle does have some beautiful greenery. Did you know, at one time Seattle was a forest, home to some of the tallest trees on earth?” She arched her brows, proud, sad, and angry all at once. “That didn’t last long though, Not once Denny and his boys showed up. Hell, If I’d been Chief Sealth, or Seattle as the white men called him, I’d have systematically cut down a white man for each of those trees they dropped.” She looked skyward then and off to the perimeter of the city, not that anyone could see much past the bright city lights into the gloom around it. “See? No sign of the trees anywhere. Down to the very last one, they took them all.

“And they wondered why everything started flooding when they built on it. Brilliant brainiacs they were they had no understanding of the ecosystem. Most don’t, ya know? Even today. Just cut, take, destroy… all for the almighty dollar.”

She sighed and turned to him with a sort of amused smile. Another arch of her brows. “Talk about gloomy, eh?”

It might sound, from Sophie’s bitterness in this, that she was against progressions, technology. No. She was against ignorance and chosen paths of irresponsibility. The world wide web was a boon to lovers of knowledge and the best way of combating ignorance among the masses. One still had to be careful however, in sifting through crap to get to the truth, and many used the internet as nothing more than a time waster, mind duller, and 24 hr portal to porn. Fucking idiots.

Sophie caught the slight gesture and smiled. Sad that such courtesies were so lacking in this country. But then, not like Sophie would be too eager to show such respect to most of the people she met. Even if some days she believed she ought to, whether they deserved it or not. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Most people earned her disrespect before she gave it to them.

“Oh? How long have you been here? Your English is really good. I’m sure you’ve been speaking it for a while, seeing as it’s in your line of work but, it’s not like you sound like you just stepped off the boat, ya know?”

When they picked up their drinks, Sophie nodded skyward. “Roof okay with you?” It was covered in case of rain, and had a big heater set up. It was the only place they, meaning she, could smoke.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)


[info]catchyourshadow
2008-03-23 04:52 am UTC (link)
Keisuke was almost always polite, even if it was an action and not a sincere thought, his manners and deference was ingrained into him. As a child, his mother had taught him the caste system of the world he'd been born into. Peasants were peasants, samurai were samurai, lords were lords. One must always show respect to those they met, lest they be some high ranking noble traveling under guise. Keisuke had asked her once, if this was so, why did they have to show the same respect to the peasants that they lived near as well? His mother had taken a needle from her sewing basket and pricked his finger. Wincing from the pain, he'd listened to her explain. Everyone bleeds the same, whether they were noble or slave. If you show respect to one, you should show respect to all.

Keisuke could not even remember his mother's face, nor the scent of her hair, but he would always remember the pain of that needle piercing his skin. If his mother knew how he'd lived, surviving on the blood of humans, feeding on a caste system more complex than the one of feudal Japan...well, at least he still maintained the grace and respectful manners she'd taught him since he was old enough to bow.

"Ah, my English? I studied for many years in Tokyo and while working. Still not enough to take away the accent, I am afraid." He let her lead the way to the rooftop, through a narrow staircase, decorated with dark wood framed pictures. The wind on the roof was stronger but the nearby heater gave off warmth to the people milling around, many who had lit up cigarettes.

"You have lived here long?" He asked, long fingers holding the coffee cup, enjoying the warmth of the drink.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)


[info]felonious_punk
2008-03-23 09:27 pm UTC (link)
Ah the caste system. Even where it didn’t truly exist many found way to make it so. Take the High School Hierarchy. You had the jocks and cheerleaders, the clowns, the officers and academic types, the goths, the nerds, the outcasts. And much like any other ingrained caste system one could become tainted by associating with the wrong caste. For as much as things change in the world, so much stayed the same. Looking at it from a historical, anthropological perspective. Quite possibly it would look decidedly different to one who had lived through all those years, actually experiencing those changes.

How sad if those changes involved losing cherished memories. A mother’s face, the first sight, most often, glimpsed by a person after opening their eyes. The first eyes committed to memory, the first scent, the first everything. How much was gain and lost in all those years? Sophie would want to hold it all as long as she lived.

“No, but the accents nice. And anyway, there should always be differences between people, don’t you think? I mean, variety is as important as similarity. And thre should be a little of each in everyone.”

Once seated, Sophie set down her glass and lit another smoke. “All my life.” She replied, her lips around the cigarette as she breathed out. Likely he could guess for himself how many decades that had been, meaning less than two. Funny, she knew more about Seattle than many that had lived their twice as long as her. Lots of people just didn’t care.

(Reply to this) (Parent)

Home | Site Map | Manage Account | TOS | Privacy | Support | FAQs