Forums » Sci-Fi Roleplay » Project ZUMA #1

Zuma lays on an unpadded bed in a dark room, in the same coma that he had been in for a year. He remained very still, shallow breathing through a respirator. Scientists in white lab coats were running about destroying armfuls of papers but did not bother to check on him. Suddenly, his eyes fly open and he pants heavily. His eyes, once brown but now bright blue, scan the poorly lit room as he takes in a year's worth of information...

A confused Zuma walks over a large gas station. There were only two cars there since a majority of cars were either hydrogen fuel cell or electric cars. His bodysuit that he wore at the lab was replaced by his favorite outfit, a traditional Mexican outfit with two blue feathers in his ear and two stripes of face paint on eh'll each cheek. Zuma couldn't quite remember why he enjoyed this look, but he did very much. He walks into the convenience store and stares at the different snacks, only recognizing a few from 3 years ago. His strange look started to attract attention ...

Shafer trudged down the side of the highway, not even bothering to walk near the ditch or the patches of unlit forest or any of that. He wasn't hiding from his parents or his brother or anyone they bothered to send looking for him, he wanted to be found. He wanted to be scolded. He wanted his mother to sob uncontrollably and drag him into a bone-crushing hug while she made him promise to never do that again.
But god knows how long it'd take for her to even notice he was gone in the first place. Hilarious. Pathetic tears welled up in the native's eyes as he huffed and folded his arms across his chest in an attempt to keep them warm. It really was getting quite frigid outside. He dragged his nails up and down his forearms and made a beeline for the gas station as soon as it came into view.
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The small teen made a fair bit of noise as he shoved the door open and thrust himself into the warm space as quickly as he could, a loud grumble of discomfort falling from his lips, as if he really wanted the people in there to know just how fricking cold it was outside. Dark eyes swept over every single person in the establishment until they settled on a particularly odd looking one as he gathered his mane of black hair over one shoulder and sorted out the buttons on his jacket. He made his way over to the boy with the excuse of wanting a snack. "What are you wearing?"

Zuma turns and looks at the boy that asked him a question. His white hair with his dark skin, his blue eyes, his strange clothes. He really was a strange guy to look at. He kept staring at the boy for a while, then replies in Spanish, "I am wearing a traditional Mexican outfit. I used to wear this all the time back at home. Why do you ask?" He couldn't help but feel out of place in this American place. He had never been in the United States before, since he had spent all of his life in Mexico.

Shafer looked the boy over and leaned a bit closer, manicured eyebrow raised. He rose up onto his toes and stepped around him, looking him over from absolutely all angles. "Mexican? Hm. Makes sense. You have a nice skin colour, it's like mine. Don't see many like us where I live." He smiled brightly and leaned forward to brush his fingers along the other boy's neck. "I like it a lot. I like you. Do you have a car?"

Zuma watched the boy very carefully, staying very cautious of him He let the boy touch his neck and nodded as he spoke. The problem was that he was slowly remembering his English. He could hear and interpret English, but he couldn't respond in English yet. So, he answered yet again, "<A car? No, I have traveled on foot. I prefer it that way, better for 'Madre Tierra'. Excuse me, where exactly am I? This does not seem anything like Mexico.>"

Shafer tilted his head to the side and flattened his freezing palm against the boy's neck, making a pleased noise at how warm the skin was there. He really had no sense of personal space. Or concentration, obviously, had he'd apparently forgotten about all his problems now that he had a new toy to play with. "I know madre means mother so I'm just gonna assume you mean nature. You're in the US. Kinda close to Canada as well." He brushed off the question, as if it were pretty normal to not know where you are. "Are you going to Mexico? Can you take me with you?"

Zuma was slowly remembering how to speak English, so he spoke a mixture of English and Spanish in replying to the strange figure. He took a step back, raising an eyebrow at the smaller person with cold hands. "I guess so. <You said US? As in America?> This is America... My <guardian> told me about this place. He was in love with America. Or she. I don't remember."