| Cassandra Blake
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You know, the weather really was amazing sometimes.
Every weather forecast on every news program says to expect clear skies and seventy degree weather all day long. So, naturally, what happens when Cassandra Blake goes out for her midafternoon jog around the park?
Rain. Lots and lots of rain.
It was like the sky had just burst open like a giant water balloon and unleashed a torrential downpour the likes of which Cassandra had barely believed possible. As things were, she was glad that she was a strong swimmer, because it was looking like she was going to have to either swim home or hitch on a ride on a stray boat.
It was entirely possible that she was shamelessly exaggerating.
But regardless, now she was soaked—and getting wetter by the second. Her black mane, pulled back in a long ponytail flopped heavily onto her back. Her shorts, black mesh, would at least dry quickly when she finally made her way back home, but her green tank top had absorbed the water like a giant sponge—as had her socks. She wouldn’t be surprised if her cell phone, nestled away in a pocket with her keys, acted up on her as well.
Cassandra had just moved to this quaint London suburb a couple of weeks ago and, having mainly kept to herself in her apartment, didn’t know many people yet. Her mother, back home in Massachusetts, suggested that she find herself a nice roommate, but Cassandra had always been one to enjoy her solitude. She just hoped that her mother, meddlesome as she was, wasn’t too determined to see her daughter living with someone, else she might stop the steady flow of money that Cass took from her trust fund—a product of old money in the family and her father’s business success. One of the main reasons for coming to England was getting away from her meddlesome parents and the drama-filled social life she’d lived back in Boston.
As things were, though, Cassandra kept on with her run, figuring that the rain couldn’t possibly do her any more damage than it already had. Maybe someone would take pity on her.
Was that thunder she just heard?
You don't have to write as much as me, but I'd appreciate no one-liners, maybe a paragraph or two. Looking for love, friendship, anything really. She's a new character I'd like to work on.
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Rawr
Anonymous
St. Mungo's - 4th FloorHealer
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« 25 May 2011, 12:44:21 »
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“I really hate you, you know that?”Vance muttered in an undertone. The question was directed at his Norfolk Terrier puppy, Pretzel, but even the puppy knew that wasn’t true and he ignored his disgruntled owner, his tail wagging excitedly as he tugged Vance in the direction of the park.
Truth was, Vance adored Pretzel to pieces or else he wouldn’t have been outside, in the pouring rain taking him on a walk.
For reasons beyond Vance, the puppy seemed to adore being outside in the rain. As soon as Pretzel could sense the rumbling of an oncoming storm, he’d jump to his feet, tugging at the cuff of Vance’s jeans until he obliged. And if he didn’t? Pretzel would whine and stare up at him with his adorable, big, brown puppy eyes till Vance succumbed.
And he ended up regretting it every time.
And could you blame him? Who would want to be outside in the pouring pain. Although, the sight of Pretzel barking happily and running around, splashing in puddles and rolling around in the wet grass did sort of make him feel better about it. So Vance sighed, allowing his dog to pull him across the street to the park where he unhooked the leash and let Pretzel have his fun. He pulled his light jacket closer around him with one hand, the other gripping onto an umbrella which had proved to be sort of useless considering the rain was falling in big diagonal slates, soaking Vance.
He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it up and turned on the spot, as usual, the park was empty –no one in their right minds would be out in this type of weather. Except that it wasn’t empty. Vance squinted trying to see between the steady rain and sure enough, there seemed to be a very determined jogger -albeit running halfheartedly- she was still running. Not to mention, she was soaking wet.
“You’re going to get sick!” He found himself calling out to her before he could stop himself because as a healer, it was sort of his job to help people, no?
Hope it's not too late to reply to this.
« Last Edit: 26 May 2011, 03:52:14 » |
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| Cassandra Blake
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Not at all.
If she wanted to be completely honest, Cassandra told herself patiently, she didn’t mind the rain that much. They got plenty of snow back where she was from, and she was pretty sure that she wouldn’t been a lot more irritable if it had suddenly started snowing while she was out on her daily (ideally daily) run. She knew how terrible blizzards could be, and, so far at least, this thunderstorm had nothing on any of the snowstorms she’d experienced.
Besides, it wasn’t like a little water could hurt her. Though it was raining quietly heavily, Cassandra doubted that it was about to turn into Noah’s infamous flood. And frankly, it was nice to not feel all sweaty. The rain actually felt nice, even if it was a bit heavier than she would have preferred on her perfect day. After all, a little bit of water had never really hurt anyone, except for the Wicked Witch of the West.
Of course, she was a witch.
Turning a corner, she tried not to think about that.
It wasn’t long before she heard a dog barking in the park, and about a second after that she saw the small animal responsible for the high-pitched, yippy sounds.
Cassandra had a dog back home, a beautiful black lab named Apollo. She’d been a little girl, probably around six or seven, when they’d first gotten him as a puppy, and Cassandra had insisted on being able to name him herself. Having been told the story of Cassandra of Troy, after whom she’d been named, she’d insisted on naming the dog after her namesake’s patron god. It was funny, she thought to herself now, how the smaller dogs always made more noise than their larger counterparts. They also happened to be more annoying.
Then a human voice drew her attention to the young man who had to be the dog’s owner. As she kept running in his direction, she tried to figure out whether or not he’d been speaking to her. Since there was no one else in the park, he had to have been. There was no one else for him to talk to—except the dog, but he was looking at her.
Without even thinking about it, she sped up until she came to a stop right in front of him. “And who are you to be so concerned for the health of a stranger?” she asked, looking up at him with a curious, challenging smile. “A little water never hurt anyone.”
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Rawr
Anonymous
St. Mungo's - 4th FloorHealer
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« 26 May 2011, 16:50:39 »
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Vance didn’t mind the rain that much either. You couldn’t possibly live in London and hate the rain it would be like knowing you were allergic to peanuts but eating them anyway. London and rain came together, it rained more often than not. So even if you didn’t like the rain, you’d have to learn to at least tolerate it. And Vance had. It wasn’t so bad most of the times, in fact, sometimes it was almost soothing. Especially when he was warm and indoors with the rain as background noise, it was nice.
But of course when he had a dog that absolutely insisted on getting wet and dirty and muddy almost every time it rained, it got sort of annoying. Naturally, Vance could clean his dog up rather quickly with his wand but still, he didn’t want to have to do it that often.
Whatever, he’d grow Pretzel out of it eventually. For now, he sort of stood there in the pouring rain, watching his dog chase his own tail and roll around in the grass.
Until he noticed that the young woman was running towards him now.
For a second Vance had to wonder if she was going to tackle him. He hadn’t intended to be rude, he had been pointing out a –supposedly- common fact.
As it turns out, she didn’t tackle him, instead she stopped right in front of him and Vance remembered another reason he liked rain; he wasn’t a pervert or anything but even he noticed that her clothes were absolutely clinging to her body which just happened to be rather attractive. Must have been all the running she did.
“Don’t flatter yourself, I was merely pointing out a fact. No concern intended.” He said, grinning slightly. He was joking of course. He wasn’t worrying over it or anything but he was still slightly concerned for her health. Any good healer would have been. Not to mention that Vance’s mother was a muggle doctor who hadn’t missed an opportunity to point out the harmful from the healthy his whole life.
There was a flash of lightning, a deep rumbling burst of thunder, and a fresh wave of water pounded down on them. Vance took a step closer holding his umbrella higher so that it would cover most of the both of them though the weight of the rain had caused it to go slightly limp, deeming it pointless.
“I’d also like to take this as an opportunity to point out that this is more than ‘a little water’ and could very well hurt the both of us, not to mention Pretzel over there.”
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| Cassandra Blake
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Cassandra smiled wryly. “Ah. I see,” she observed.
He was kidding, of course. She could tell by that grin of his, the way that he seemed to be mocking her but not all at the same time. He was trying to make her feel silly for saying anything about it at all, to downplay it and appear like he didn’t care much at all.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked at him with a knowing grin of her own, tilting her head curiously. He wasn’t very tall as far as man went, only a little bit taller than her—though she was on the taller side as far as girls went. Similarly, he was probably not very much older than she was if he was any older at all. And wasn’t it a bit odd that he was warning her about the dangers of being outside in the rain when he was outside in the rain himself? With his dog? Wasn’t that a bit hypocritical?
She glanced up at the sky when thunder boomed and lightning flashed, and her entire face seemed to light up with their surroundings. Truth be told, she loved thunderstorms much, much more than regular rainstorms. There was something so… exhilarating… about being outside during a thunderstorm. There literally was electricity in the air, and there was something so humbling about witnessing such a raw display of nature’s power. You felt so helpless and small, especially when you remembered how much worse and more terrible nature could really.
Then her attention was drawn to his umbrella, and she stepped a little closer to him when he moved it to try and cover the both of them. It was true that it was kind of… weathered… but she figured that it was probably better than nothing. She didn’t think that she could possibly get any more soaked, but things could always be worse.
“Why are you out here then?” she asked when he pointed out that the water certainly could cause them harm. She looked over at the dog—Pretzel—when he mentioned him.
Geeze, a little thing like that was likely to drown in a puddle if it was too large. Not to mention how easily the wind could probably pick it up, or how it could easily be swept away by the small rivulets that tended to run along the sides of streets. She shook her head with a small laugh, picturing Pretzel being carried down a drain and into the sewer. Poor dog.
It was clear, however, that the pooch was having quite a fun time in the rain, even after the thunder and lightning. She had to give the little thing credit for being more fearless than old Apollo, who hated both rain and snow.
“If I’m going to get sick, won’t you?” she asked, turning her attention back to Pretzel’s owner.
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Rawr
Anonymous
St. Mungo's - 4th FloorHealer
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« 02 June 2011, 06:06:46 »
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“Ah. I see,”
Based on that sly grin, the knowing look in her eye, her tilted head and crossed arms, the young woman knew exactly what he was up to.
Not that he had a problem. It wasn't like he was ashamed or anything, he had done it to get the ball rolling, strike a conversation, add some humor to the situation. Vance had no problem looking out for strangers, after all, it was how he had gotten a family, wasn't it? If it wasn't for the extreme kindness of a stranger he would have been dead long, long ago. And while Vance wasn't exactly going to take her to the hospital or buy her chicken soup, he could at least issue out a warning.
Judging by her face though, she seemed to really love thunderstorms and he doubted his warning left any impact on her.
“Why are you out here then?”
Oh ho. A smart ass. It would have been hypocritical of him had he had a choice, had he been out here simply because he wanted to, then he wouldn't have any right to warn her of getting sick. Except he wasn't here out of sheer will, quite the contrary actually, he had been practically forced her. Vance was sure that if Pretzel was any bigger, he would have dragged Vance out. He grinned down at her as she moved closer, she was rather tall, it was unnerving.
"I had absolutely no choice. Have you seen that little ball of fluff?" Vance asked, smiling crookedly at her and pointing his thumb at Pretzel now attempting to climb a tree. "Bursting at the seam with energy, I didn't stand a chance." A lot of people would argue that of course he had a choice, that Vance was the owner, he should be in charge. Those people had never seen the Pretzel's puppy dog eyes.
"This happens way too often, I rarely ever gets sick anymore."
He explained. And even if he did get sick maybe, just maybe, Pretzel would take some pity on him and leave him the hell alone.
"You're not from around here, are you?"
Sorry for the delay!
Also, can I assume she has an American accent?
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| Cassandra Blake
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Yes, you may assume that.
Now, Cassandra had a hard time believing that a little animal like Pretzel could physically force a grown human being to do anything, let alone come out in the middle of a thunderstorm for a little outing to the local park. Perhaps if the dog were a bit larger, or maybe even a bit meaner, she would have been able to believe it. Her old dog, for example, had been able to drag her around like a ragdoll on a string. But Pretzel? Come on…
And still, she found herself wondering why it was that little dogs not only yapped and squealed much more frequently than their larger counterparts, but why it was that they also seemed to possess oodles and oodles of energy where they lacked strength. While it was true that larger dogs could and did get excited (oftentimes, whenever someone walked down the street) they didn’t have the energy for the almost spastic movements of this little terrier as pawed fruitlessly at the base of a nearby tree trunk.
“You expect me to believe,” she began incredulously, eyebrows raised skeptically, “that that ‘little ball of fluff’ is able to drag around a big strong man like yourself?” Smirking, she paused playfully. “Either that means he’s a compact little Hercules or you’ve got the strength of a five-year-old. He weighs what… like two pounds?”
But she smiled good naturedly just so that it was clear that she was only kidding and joking around with him, though she thought he’d get that just fine from her tone. She didn’t want to come off as unkind.
And she nodded when he made the correct observation that she wasn’t from around these parts. Good Lord, she thought to herself, was it that obvious? Of course it was, though. She’d gotten so used to hearing people speak with an English accent that it had ceased to sound funny or odd, which led her to forget about the fact that she didn’t talk like that. Not only was she an American, but she was also from Boston, and while her accent wasn’t as bad as some of her friends, she knew that it would stand out like a red alert to any native Brit.
“I moved here a couple weeks ago from Boston to get away from my parents,” she offered. “They were suffocating—constantly warning her about what I should and shouldn’t do… I’ve been told that I’ll catch a cold playing in the rain many times. But still, they aren’t all bad; they still send me money, so I can’t complain too much."
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