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Log Title: Voodoo Ahab
Log setting: Bourbon Street, early evening
Log Cast:
Tiens
Trace
Jason
Mikaela
Joseph
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Tiens slips uptown, lazy-like. Cigarette dangles on lip. Thoughtful expression.
Trace is huddled up in the grime of lower Bourbon, his back to a cool brick wall. The blue shock of hair for once does not stand out so starkly, framed by the colorful grafitti. He sucks at a milkshake with lackluster, one arm curled around his filthy jeans..
Tiens slows a bit, tilting his head to the side. Clickety-clack, his eyes glance over you. Lately people have been sprouting bruises and he's just taking inventory on folks he knows. "Hey," he drawls, after a bit.
Trace doesn't look up or notice you until you speaks. His fingers around the shake are caked with colored chalk, and it's been smeared on the cup he holds. The straw is pulled away and he twitches a smile. No bruises. In truth, the boy has a look of returning health, his cheeks just a bit less gaunt, and the circles disappearing from beneath his eyes. "Tiens," he greets quietly, and holds up the shake in offering.
Tiens blows a smoke ring, slightly angular and barely holding its own for more than a few inches, but what the Hell, it's a cigarette, not a damn pipe or nothin'. "How you been?" he asks, mind slipping back faintly to pumpkin conversations, winter winds. His eyes flicker to follow a man slipping along the other side of the street. Five o'clock shadow and beat up jeans do nothing to disguise the tell-tale gait of an undercover cop. But not interested in two two-bit punks.
The cop, while recognized, doesn't even draw a glance from Trace. They don't got nothin' on him. He pulls back his drink and pulls on the straw again, since you didn't reach when it was offered, and rolls his shoulders in a shrug. "Back onna street. S'okay, though. Me'n Jason's out on our own right now, but we're doing okay." He looks up at you, and pauses for a considering moment before saying softly, "You don't... gotta keep an' eye out for Bat no more. He's in California, anyway, and, well. I dunno. Just don't got anything to say t'him right now." He tries to hide the scowl he aims towards the concrete, keeping his lips carefully neutral, but the transparant boy gives it away as his brows pull together slightly, a tenseness held between the eyes. "What you been up to? Still onna' run?"
Tiens considers that. "Well, yeah, but leashed a bit," he finally ventures. His lips twist in an irony-laced smile. "You know anything about the book Moby Dick?" he asks, a chuckle sliding out of his lips, honey sweet and sunset colored. His amusement is somehow MORE honest laced with tension...or just appears so, the 'edge' taken off his preternatural calm.
"Herman Melville," Trace nods a little. "I only read the good parts, with the chasin', and stabbin' it and stuff. And the funny stuff in the beginning, when he hadda share beds with that guy and was all freaked." He takes the straw with his fingers and stirs the drink as best he can. It tears at the little cross-cut straw opening on the plastic lid, ripping it wider. "Dunno. There was lots I hadda skip. He jest went on and on 'bout boring stuff 'bout whaling. Knot tying and cleaning and shit." His hazel eyes center on yours. "So why?" A quirked grin. "Gotta whale you chasin'?"
Tiens laughs, a little -- his eyes shift off a bit and slowly he's moved so that he's occupying another section of the multicolored wall, not too terribly far from your own spot. "Almost," he says. "Or a whale chasin' me --" He shrugs. "Like jus' somethin' so damn' important for reasons ya don' even know for shoah." Thoughts behind his words push them deeper into his southern drawl. He chuckles, dryly. "Ah doan' know _WHAT_ the hell ah mean," he says, finally, just smoking a bit.
"Yeah.." Trace nods thoughtfully, and points out, "Yeah, y'do. I mean, sometimes maybe ya get that feelin' somethin's doggin' ya. And yer usually right. Ain't the kinda gut feelin' what pops up without good reason." A tentative grin. "Less ya gone and smoked y'self paranoid." He leans back, skull resting against the painted brick once more. "Anyway, from what I seen could be a real person afta ya, or even jest somethin' in life finally catchin' up..." He sets his shake down and drapes both his arms across his knees. "If yer countin' all that, I figger I spend most my time runnin'. So's I kin' sympathize."
Tiens nods to this, the rattle of beads against the wall thoughtful and reticent, thinking through that. "What's so fuckin' wierd is that I done nothin' but run _towards_ shit for as long as I can remember." His lips twist again, half amused, half annoyed. He taps ash off the cigarette, using the motion as a gesture towards some...thing, some goal, some damn whale. "An' the minute I get my feet _near_ it," he shakes his head. "Ah'm runnin' in the opposite direction." He licks his lips. "Or feel like ah _should_ be runnin'. But don't know wheah to." The chuckle from his lips is drawn thin, but bright -- like the trail of a sparkler on a spring night -- "Ah'm MUCH bettah at dealin' with othah' folks' problems."
"Wish I could say the same..." Trace mumbles, fingers tapping against his knee restlessly. "I think if I could jest fix the problems'a everyone I love best, then that'd pretty much be the end of mosta my worries." He purses his lips moodily, but finally breaks his gaze away from the spot of concrete he'd been eying and lifts his eyes to you. "So you ever gonna be able to 'splain better what it is nippin' at ya heels, or ya bound to be alla time mysterious an' vague bout it?" He smiles a little, though with hesitance, as though unconsciously afraid to be whapped on the nose for pushing into matters that aren't his business.
Jason comes down Bourbon from downtown.
Tiens chuckles, lightly -- it's a self-mocking sort of thing, not as if he wasn't aware before that he was bein' vague: more like he's just surprised that you even got into it. Most people here seem to be too busy with their own dramas, which for the most part, suits Tiens anyhow. "It _is_ mysterious, thoah," he drawls, sensibly. "How much you know bout Voodoo?" he asks, testingly, maybe -- teasingly. He's propped up against the wall not too far from where Trace is propped up against it. He tilts his head towards Jason when another 'person of consequence' enters the periphery. Don't ask how or why, but Tiens' flickers his attention towards the other boy unerringly. One sign he's on edge, though otherwise he's the coolest cat in town. Or close to.
"Voodoo?" Trace blinks, caught offguard. Perhaps he should have expected something abnormal, but a statement like that would throw just about anyone. He picks up his milkshake and sucks at the straw thoughtfully, considering what he can tell that won't sound terribly foolish. Pink creeps up the length of the straw, then falls down again as he draws his lips away to speak carefully. "I... knew a girl, a long time ago. Almost a year ago, really. And 'round Mardi Gras she took me and... and a friend out into the woods. She gave us this gross stuff to chew on and spit out, and there was shroom bits in it. And red stuff. And it tasted awful bad, but it made us see stuff real bright and vivid. And Sydney, she wore a weird gown, and there was this alter, and she kilt' a chicken!" His eyes are widened now, and full of childish awe. "She cut his head off and licked its drippin' blood! There was a fire... Then we started seein' more stuff, but I really don't remember much. Me an' my friend woke up in her store, and I don't even know how we got there. Musta passed out.."
Depending on what you're looking for, Jason can either blend in or not. Most people notice the hair, though. it's a big ol' beacon as to his arrival for those who know what to look for. He comes padding up the sidewalk, slipping through the few vague knots of pedestrians and tourists (seems Mardi Gras is as much hailed by buildup of the hordes of frat kids as anything else nowadays). He's distracted himself, but that's not big surprise. He's /not/ been known for having a cool head the past few months anyway. It's some sort of vague irritation going on there. But it's shoved to the back when the redhead sees blue braids down the street. With.. Mr. Mysterio. Heh. The kid comes trotting up, giving the both of the wall-loungers a faint smile. "Hey Trace, Tiens." Just 'cuz he doesn't know the older one personally doesn't mean he's lived in a box. Reps is reps. "'Sup?"
Tiens listens to the story, nonplussed, for the most part. He nods, faintly. Well, yeah, that is voodoo. "Yeah," he drawls, just makin' sound to agree with the end of your telling. He shifts his position a bit, taking a drag off the cigarette. Mr. Mysterio indeed. "Jason," he says. See, look -- we know each other's names. Tiens might just be a bit player or a sideline story to the sagas that flow through relationships and friendships and all these kids: but true to style, he knows all the major players. He quirks his lips into a wry blend of sunset smile. "Trace is tryin' to figure out how to help me with what's been hasslin' me lately," he drawls, tracing a faint arc through the air with the lit end of his cigarette. "and me, Ah'm tryin' to figga how to _explain_ the sit'ation t'him."
"Yup," Trace nods his agreement, and then looks up to give Jason an infinitely fond smile when he approaches, holding up the half a strawberry milkshake for the redhead to sip at should he like. "So far all I know is he's got voodoo Ahabs chasin' him. But anyway, s'all good. I'm patient. I got Jason fer a friend, so I'm useta people not splainin' nothin' straight 'n simple."
Jason ehs? and gives Trace a confused little questioning glance. Huh? Whashetalkin'bout? But the confusion evaporates back into that faint smile he had - though now infused with gratefulness. Mm, shake. He takes the shake and tries to suck some out the straw while cocking his head back to Tiens. Whew, good thing it's turning to strawberry soup there. Suction headaches suck. He wipes his lips with his sleeve and lets Trace have the shake back when he's done. "Hey, I 'splain things fine," he protests to Trace. But then back to Tiens, "Whassa voodoo Ahab? Like them nasty, um..." Brows furrow as he searches for the word. "Uh, bokors?"
Tiens slit-glints his eyes with a bright smile, nodding to Jason. "Somethin' like that," he drawls, with his beads echoing the motion in counterpoint. "Since it stahted with me tryin' to find one, is part about me tryin' to figah out if ah can Trust one," he takes a final drag out of his cigarette, killing it. "And that's gonna have somethin' to do with how it ends." He wrinkles his lips. "But ah doan' see that clear 'nuff."
Mikaela and Joseph come down Bourbon from uptown.
Mikaela smirks at Joseph, "S'my goal." She drawls to him, giving him another shove, "Back alleys are always good for a good beat down."
Joseph looks over at Mikaela with a good natured sneer. Is there really such a thing? Apparently. "Don't tempt me .." he chuckles as he walks along with her.
Whoops. That's right, it's tough making literary referances around Jason. Trace looks to the redhaired boy and smiles, "You do *so* splain' stuff weird. I mean, it's awesome though... Even if I don't understand it sometimes. But like when you talked about gold in the streets, or how I was like...." His brow furrows a little. What was that about? But he lets the words fall off his tongue anyway, and hopes no one asks him to explain, "Like snow flakes." He looks away. Anyway. A quiet slurp on the milkshake, listening to Tiens now. Uhh... A glance is cast to Jason to see if his friend understood that any better than he did. After all, he knew what a bokor was, and Trace is still clueless about that. "Um." He gropes for some helpful-shaped words.
Wall, shove. Wall, shove. Well. Kae decides Joseph needs a good shove towards a wall so she tries to give it to him, "I like temptin' ya though." She says, putting her whole 5' 6" tall form into her shove. Heave ho.
Jason's red brows draw together again as he tries to figure out what the hell Tiens just said. The words came together and hinted at something, but just what is way beyond Jason's scope right now. "Um, how what ends? Summ'un tell yer future 'r sumthin?" Green eyes swim a bit in confusion as he looks back to Trace. Clarify anything? Eh, hmm. He scratches his head a little, then shrugs and murmurs, "Usedta stay in this guy's attic couple years 'go..." Brows furrow again, but this time the confused glance goes inward. Couple years ago? Oh well, that's about how long it feels. "Anyhow, he was like a, um... hougan? Dunno. He knew lotsa stuff. Mebbe he could help ya? If he still 'round, 'mean. Cuz..." Again, the confused look. "Been while or sumthin'." He goes silent for a few long moments, thinking. And then he suddenly gives Trace a weird look, head tilted. "Gold in the streets?" he asks tentatively. He certainly doesn't remember that. "Um..." He smirks slightly, one corner of his lips tilting up. "Was I high?"
As if he never got that little trick in the army .. Joseph lets her shove him at the wall, not that he's going to hit it. He turns as he gets a few feet from it, turning a bit to let her push right past him if she really wants to. "Careful Mik, that wall doesn't look as forgiving as me." He smirks, catching her wrist to keep her from hitting the wall, damn fool girl sometimes, you know?
How humiliating. Kae just smirks, tugging at her wrist. Let go, no holding unless something fun's going to come out of it. Maybe it's time to skip to the third date because even while tugging at her wrist, she moves in a bit, aiming for a knee in the groin. What a happy couple.
Tiens parts his lips, trying to even explain for himself his own crypticisms. Cocoa eyes drift ahead of his voice down the street a bit as he reaches out one foot to twist a cigarette dead and gone. His mood and manner changes almost instantly when his eyes focus on some..one? something? The steady flow of passersby makes it difficult to say just _what_ provoked Tiens' change of mood. He drawls, as loose and easy as before, "Sorry to say, answer's gonnah have ta' wait -- " He slips his satchel of his shoulder. "There's my cue to scram." He flashes a smile, fractionally larger, more genuine, to the two boys near the wall. "Good seein' ya," he says...and with that, he slips off into the crowd. He dodges through a group of frat boys, slappin' one a high-five as if old friends. Then he's lost in the shifting groups of pedestrians.
Tiens heads uptown.
Well, the knee does connect, but it's not hard, more like a nudge, "Nah. Louis'll give up a good unopened bottle." She drawls, moving for the pool hall. Kae really is a rather violent sort, but she does know when to pick and choose her battles.
Mikaela pulls open the door to Bob's Billards and slips inside. As the door closes on its own a cloud of smoke billows out from the building.
Mikaela has left.
Joseph jumps back at first nudged contact .. oh no way was he going to stay close to that knee. "What was that, you skipping ahead of your program here?" He straightens out his jacket as he starts towards the pool hall, "Careful or I'll take all my toys home with me."
Joseph pulls open the door to Bob's Billards and slips inside. As the door closes on its own a cloud of smoke billows out from the building.
Joseph has left.
Trace watches Tiens go with no small amount of puzzlement. His initial, somewhat irrational distrust for the beaded one has pretty much disapated, leaving only the itch of curiousity. He takes a drink from the shake and then looks back to Jason, shaking his head a little. "Naw, you weren't high." He shrugs lightly. "You was just sad at the time.. kinda freaked out. Don't worry 'bout it; ain't too surprising if ya don't 'member it, I guess." He smiles a little and pats at the concrete beside him. "I had an idea. We oughta fix up the apartment, make it liveable. I was talkin' to Ali 'bout it yestahday. She said she'd help, an' gived me some good ideas. Anyway, it'd be somethin' t'pass the time. And when it's fixed up, we won't be so..." He blushes a little and shrugs. "Well, dunno bout you, but it's kinda... dunno, sleepin' there's not.... y'know?" He concludes lamely, with a wave of his hands.
Jason blinks after Tiens as well. Hmm. That was more than a little on the odd side there. He brushes some of that ever-present hair back over his shoulder and scratches at the back of his neck as he watches the older kid go, then shrugs and looks back to you. "Sad? Huh... I dunno. Things been so weird lately." He smirks a little, as if what he's saying's stupid or something. "Jus' like, was in a fog 'n I didn' know it 'til I stepped out or sumthin'." You know, That Night. He leans against the wall and slides down it to sit on the sidewalk beside you. "Dunno 'bout the... I dunno. I mean, what if Bat comes back?" It's clear he doesn't want to be around when that happens. Big problem? No problem. Run away. Anyhow, it's also clear by that that he shares your feelings in sleeping there. "'Sides... reminds me of bein' in the hospital in there now, y'know? Like..." Well, you do know. He glances over at you and smirks faintly. "Dove don' even like it in there."
"When Bat comes back..." Because it IS a when. The blue-haired boy shakes his head a little. God, who knows. Trace sets the shake down and pulls his legs closer to his chest. "I jest thought... Maybe if we put up, like... Christmas lights on the ceiling, and find some tye-dye strips to hang down like curtains, and paint on the walls, it might jest feel a little better in there..." He finally blows out a sigh. "Y'could be right though. Might always have its ghosts. S'pose that's my fault. Coz s'too bad..." A little smile. "The apartment was 'poseta be Utopia, 'member? S'what I called it for awhile. But yer right... Even Dove don't like it." He looks up. "Ali said we could crash with her, and she wouldn't even tell the others. Just if we needed."
Jason makes a little face and stays quiet, hands tangling with each other on his folded legs. "Dunno," he repeats, shaking his head finally. "Mean, mebbe... mebbe that'd cover it up, but..." He looks over to you. "Does Ali have that stuff? Cuz... s'kinda 'spensive, I think. Should save that hundred fer like, 'mergency stuff. Food 'n weed 'n stuff." He quirks a little grin. The weed part was just a joke by the way. Though... hmm, would be nice. He shakes his head a little and blows out a sigh. "It ain' yer fault anyway. Prolly mine. I'm the one that... I mean..." He shakes his head. "I threw him out 'n he the one that cheated on me 'n... Ya kinda jus' got caught up in it all." He makes a face, some awful taste in his mouth. "I'm sorry, Trace," he murmurs softly, not able to look back over at you.
"No, no.." Trace shakes his head, braids swaying gently. "That's what Triangles is about, y'know? I was poseta be caught up in it. Wouldn't'a had it no other way." With the back of his head to the painted brick behind him, he looks over at you, arms uncurling from his knees to clasp together skittishly. "Jason? I won't never... betray you, or leave you. Okay?" He shifts one foot to press the toe of his sneaker against one of your boots gently. "Not ever."
Jason makes that face again. Or, rather, it stays in place for a few moments longer after your words. "Yeah, well, what kinda triangle is it now?" He tosses a ball of string that he was unravelling from a small hole in the knee of his jeans and sighs softly, shaking his head. Bitterness, that's the taste in his mouth. But your promise makes him look up to you. He bites his lip hard, eyes glittering from hints of wetness. He nods once and whispers back, "Me too. I... I don' think I could." He shakes his head, then looks away and wipes at his eye with a fist balled up in his sleeve, taking a breath he seems to have forgotten. "I was jus' stupid, I guess. I mean, used to pull the same shit, but..." He shakes his head. "Learned my lesson," he murmurs softly. And then, with a little snort of self-laughter. "Guess I had ta learn that not everyone learns, ya know?"
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