My Oc
Ridiculous. There was no word more fitting for the situation that was unfolding in front of him than that one.
On his left was his coworker, helping a customer out who was trying to buy a new computer. Trying, because no matter what his coworker was suggesting wasn't good enough. At first they claimed to be a gamer even though they didn't seem like the type that would spend hours grinding resources for their brand new game. Then, they claimed to be into graphic design. The bottom line seemed to be that they wanted the best of the best even though he was sure the customer would probably only use the computer to answer his business e-mails. It wasn't that one had to dress a specific way to actually be an artist or a gamer, it was just that after 5 years of working in the store he had gained quite a lot of people knowledge.
People watching, it had become a hobby in and outside of work. Something his coworker approved of, unlike the person who was standing on his right.
"I really wish you would hide your disapproval a little more. Have you truly forgotten everything I taught you?" The brunette asked. Lindsey's deep hazel eyes searched his face for an answer but they couldn't find one. Even though she was his supervisor, she was still two years younger and a playful grin tugged on the corners of his lips.
"How could I?" He asked, his southern sounding question laced with irony. No, not irony... it was almost sarcasm even though the tone was innocent at first glance.
"Right... of course." She replied, pressing a white envelope in his hands. "Overtime," she added and before she could finish her sentence, he looked up at the clock and gave her a grateful nod.
"Thank you. See you tomorrow." He interrupted before he proceeded to take long strides towards the store's exit. It's not that getting his overtime paid in cash was enough to make his financial worries disappear, but at least they'd cover the hospital bills for another month. Life truly was unfair wasn't it? And on top of that the cost of life was about the same as the computer that ended up in the costumer's bag: enough to be 3 times his paycheck.
Turning right twice and left once, he soon found himself standing in front of a small grocery store next to the exit of the mall itself. The store had gotten old, older than most of the stores and he knew it would soon disappear. Soon but not yet... and with that thought he allowed for his fingertips to touch the petals of a single rose in the 5 dollar bouquet up front of a display.
Daisy
Light steps had drifted carefully around the store for hours that day. Even as others came and went with heavy feet, her steps remained light as if she walked on air. Though petite in size, and meek looking - the woman certainly carried her weight in work. Her specialties were cleaning, organizing, and being a friendly face to each passing person. A task that her coworkers easily let her take charge of. While not every customer was a friendly one, something about her seemed to pull the best out of people. Maybe it was the darling dimple in her cheeks, or the way her smile brought a wave of warmth. Frequently people stopped to enjoy a chat with her, or even seemed to openly share all sorts of personal information with her. Information she held dear as she saw each life as precious and exuberant.
While her day had been a long one, her friendly air never faltered. Soon the day would be done and she would do it again tomorrow without complaint. While the day was growing quiet, Daisy took the chance to hang in her favourite part of the ageing store. The flowers. There weren’t many, but there was enough for her and she seemed to be the only one who cared for them at all. Most people saw a cheap solution to a bad argument or a quick gift when one was forgotten - but Daisy thought the world of those little flowers. Quite often she took home the wilting ones to live their final days with her. Just because it was dying, it didn’t mean it had any less beauty to offer.
“They say touching the petals makes them wilt faster……” she had quietly slid up next to a gentleman who had caught her eye. While the store itself was old and tired looking, the smile Daisy gave him lit it up with a new light. “I say, if you think they have less value when they have given you all they have and wilt, then you shouldn’t have flowers……someone special in mind for that?” She spoke with adorable curiosity, her blonde bob curling up near her cheeks to frame her small features. Those doe, light brown eyes carefully took in his tender touch, delighted by such thoughtfulness….or maybe he was just deep in thought.
Ragna
Raul’s Hard-Shoppe had delivered once again. Fully stocked in a variety of alloyed metals and wire spools; Perfect for Damascus and curved bladed-tures. The brothers of tempered alloy were slipped into a double zippered ADIDAS bag of blue and white. Smudges of soot and small rounded rips decorated the beautiful sky blue larger sections, whilst the white had fallen victim to a multitude of stains and stitches. More than blatantly..a well used bag. The owner? A smithing scholar from the bundles of Flam,Norway. Ragna Knotson.
The Scandinavian lad stood at six foot and six inches with a well broadened structure from his years of smithing and labor work. It was safe to assume the fellow stood out with his head of waist-long fiery curly tresses held back in a lazy bun. Stray strands of fire complimenting his ivory skin and brilliant Castleton eyes. Hardened marbles that swished and scanned across the every inch of the first floor as he passed shop after shop; None of which caught his interest until they landed on a smaller store. Almost out of place with its outdated presence, but yet still standing with a pride that just screamed ‘I’m still here and have much to offer’. Perhaps that was where he could find the wood he was looking for.
Ragna could have searched the city for a wood shop, of course, but he had other business to attend to here at the Mall. He was in need of a few sets of disposable workwear, most preferably genes, thigh chaps, a tool belt, and steel toed boots. Working with sharp edges, red hot steel, and heavy chunks of metal called for all the protection he could lay his hands on.
“Pardon me”. The thick Norwegian studded accent rolled from his chest like a soft thunder, chiming up in his approach to two conversating figures. Both strangers, and he had caught the last snippet of the female’s inquiry. Maybe she worked here? He was rather standoffish and brood the sense of ‘leave me the fuck alone’, but he was not harsh enough to interrupt an existing conversation. So would therefore lower his tone and park a bit away as to not intrude on their space.
Ragna hulked at a healthy 270 pounds and still managed to sway many that he was nothing but a gentle giant. One with complete capability to shut off his emotions and catch a felony in possession of a deadly weapon, assault, and robbery. The lad moved his eyes elsewhere and pouched his hands into the pockets of his much better maintained zip-up hoodie. Black with red strings and a design along the zipper that gave the image of snarling daggerish pearly fangs. And his shirt below with a simple black tank that did nothing to conceal the deep saturated black tentacles writhing from just below the collar of the tank and stretched up in tangles over his neck and spread out once more just under his jaw;
A few subtly creeping up towards the very lower edges on each side of his jaw. Hidden on the underside of his jaw was the Elder Futhark rune alphabet of Nordic runes stretching like a collar from one side to the other in red ink. Hanging in a silver dangle over his chest was Thor’s hammer, Mjolnir, on a silver chain. His rolled up sleeves revealed the Nordic knots along his forearms, the twin wolves(one on each arm) devouring the ripped knots. Their fur black and grey, but one’s eyes were a burning fire, and the other were just as vibrant green as his own. His lower half stalked with black cargos, decked in pockets and buckled straps. Six pockets and eight straps.
My oc
He was getting further lost in thought and there by the flowers in the early evening, life seemed to have come to a halt. The sound of the people walking around him, the mess of their voices being combined into a cloud of word fog. The lights and the signs, the smells... it all disappeared and soon it was him and the flowers in an empty room.
"She would choose you..." He said, the words clear to himself in his thoughts but just a mumble to anyone that would be close enough to even hear him say anything at all.
Interrupted by her voice, he seemed to awaken from a deep slumber. For a moment, he even looked at her in a near-drowsy manner while he tried to process her words. The interruption had been gentle, much like the way a boyfriend or girlfriend would nudge their partner awake if they'd worked overtime and came home to find them sleeping on the couch. Even though it had been ages for him, he was still capable of making that comparison.
"Ah..." He said, retracting his hand as if he got burned by the petal and giving her a thoughtful nod. What could he say to that? Did he have to apologize? He was going to buy them anyways so that would be his problem, wouldn't it?
"She wouldn't know how long they've be-.... oh." He spoke, completely having missed his turn by overthinking his response and now talking through her sentence in a less than respectful manner. He let her finish hers and cleared his throat, his thumb rubbing over his other hand out of mild discomfort.
"I'm sorry... and yes, she is very special." he said with a small smile. The smile didn't quite reach his ears but his gaze had since travelled from the flowers to her, briefly lingering on those brown eyes she had.
He was grateful when an unknown third added himself to their interaction, although not because he found her boring or because he didn't want to talk to her. It was merely a welcomed distraction and a good excuse to pry his attention away from her eyes... as well as the foot out of his mouth for that matter.
As the dark haired man spoke excuses for his interruption and moved on, he saw his potential lifeline walking away from them and his eyes shot up in light alert. Taking the bouquet he had touched, he proceeded to take two steps away from the flower stand in order to put some distance between himself and the unfolding situation.
"You're fine, I didn't mean to keep the entire stand to myself." He said to the other, who was clearly stronger and taller than he would ever be. His voice was rather loud, louder than expected in hopes of being able to reach the man even if he had placed himself away from them. If he failed to or hell, even if it worked... the chance were that he'd look as ridiculous as his customer had looked earlier.
Ridiculous. There was no word more fitting for the situation that was unfolding in front of him than that one.
On his left was his coworker, helping a customer out who was trying to buy a new computer. Trying, because no matter what his coworker was suggesting wasn't good enough. At first they claimed to be a gamer even though they didn't seem like the type that would spend hours grinding resources for their brand new game. Then, they claimed to be into graphic design. The bottom line seemed to be that they wanted the best of the best even though he was sure the customer would probably only use the computer to answer his business e-mails. It wasn't that one had to dress a specific way to actually be an artist or a gamer, it was just that after 5 years of working in the store he had gained quite a lot of people knowledge.
People watching, it had become a hobby in and outside of work. Something his coworker approved of, unlike the person who was standing on his right.
"I really wish you would hide your disapproval a little more. Have you truly forgotten everything I taught you?" The brunette asked. Lindsey's deep hazel eyes searched his face for an answer but they couldn't find one. Even though she was his supervisor, she was still two years younger and a playful grin tugged on the corners of his lips.
"How could I?" He asked, his southern sounding question laced with irony. No, not irony... it was almost sarcasm even though the tone was innocent at first glance.
"Right... of course." She replied, pressing a white envelope in his hands. "Overtime," she added and before she could finish her sentence, he looked up at the clock and gave her a grateful nod.
"Thank you. See you tomorrow." He interrupted before he proceeded to take long strides towards the store's exit. It's not that getting his overtime paid in cash was enough to make his financial worries disappear, but at least they'd cover the hospital bills for another month. Life truly was unfair wasn't it? And on top of that the cost of life was about the same as the computer that ended up in the costumer's bag: enough to be 3 times his paycheck.
Turning right twice and left once, he soon found himself standing in front of a small grocery store next to the exit of the mall itself. The store had gotten old, older than most of the stores and he knew it would soon disappear. Soon but not yet... and with that thought he allowed for his fingertips to touch the petals of a single rose in the 5 dollar bouquet up front of a display.
Daisy
Light steps had drifted carefully around the store for hours that day. Even as others came and went with heavy feet, her steps remained light as if she walked on air. Though petite in size, and meek looking - the woman certainly carried her weight in work. Her specialties were cleaning, organizing, and being a friendly face to each passing person. A task that her coworkers easily let her take charge of. While not every customer was a friendly one, something about her seemed to pull the best out of people. Maybe it was the darling dimple in her cheeks, or the way her smile brought a wave of warmth. Frequently people stopped to enjoy a chat with her, or even seemed to openly share all sorts of personal information with her. Information she held dear as she saw each life as precious and exuberant.
While her day had been a long one, her friendly air never faltered. Soon the day would be done and she would do it again tomorrow without complaint. While the day was growing quiet, Daisy took the chance to hang in her favourite part of the ageing store. The flowers. There weren’t many, but there was enough for her and she seemed to be the only one who cared for them at all. Most people saw a cheap solution to a bad argument or a quick gift when one was forgotten - but Daisy thought the world of those little flowers. Quite often she took home the wilting ones to live their final days with her. Just because it was dying, it didn’t mean it had any less beauty to offer.
“They say touching the petals makes them wilt faster……” she had quietly slid up next to a gentleman who had caught her eye. While the store itself was old and tired looking, the smile Daisy gave him lit it up with a new light. “I say, if you think they have less value when they have given you all they have and wilt, then you shouldn’t have flowers……someone special in mind for that?” She spoke with adorable curiosity, her blonde bob curling up near her cheeks to frame her small features. Those doe, light brown eyes carefully took in his tender touch, delighted by such thoughtfulness….or maybe he was just deep in thought.
Ragna
Raul’s Hard-Shoppe had delivered once again. Fully stocked in a variety of alloyed metals and wire spools; Perfect for Damascus and curved bladed-tures. The brothers of tempered alloy were slipped into a double zippered ADIDAS bag of blue and white. Smudges of soot and small rounded rips decorated the beautiful sky blue larger sections, whilst the white had fallen victim to a multitude of stains and stitches. More than blatantly..a well used bag. The owner? A smithing scholar from the bundles of Flam,Norway. Ragna Knotson.
The Scandinavian lad stood at six foot and six inches with a well broadened structure from his years of smithing and labor work. It was safe to assume the fellow stood out with his head of waist-long fiery curly tresses held back in a lazy bun. Stray strands of fire complimenting his ivory skin and brilliant Castleton eyes. Hardened marbles that swished and scanned across the every inch of the first floor as he passed shop after shop; None of which caught his interest until they landed on a smaller store. Almost out of place with its outdated presence, but yet still standing with a pride that just screamed ‘I’m still here and have much to offer’. Perhaps that was where he could find the wood he was looking for.
Ragna could have searched the city for a wood shop, of course, but he had other business to attend to here at the Mall. He was in need of a few sets of disposable workwear, most preferably genes, thigh chaps, a tool belt, and steel toed boots. Working with sharp edges, red hot steel, and heavy chunks of metal called for all the protection he could lay his hands on.
“Pardon me”. The thick Norwegian studded accent rolled from his chest like a soft thunder, chiming up in his approach to two conversating figures. Both strangers, and he had caught the last snippet of the female’s inquiry. Maybe she worked here? He was rather standoffish and brood the sense of ‘leave me the fuck alone’, but he was not harsh enough to interrupt an existing conversation. So would therefore lower his tone and park a bit away as to not intrude on their space.
Ragna hulked at a healthy 270 pounds and still managed to sway many that he was nothing but a gentle giant. One with complete capability to shut off his emotions and catch a felony in possession of a deadly weapon, assault, and robbery. The lad moved his eyes elsewhere and pouched his hands into the pockets of his much better maintained zip-up hoodie. Black with red strings and a design along the zipper that gave the image of snarling daggerish pearly fangs. And his shirt below with a simple black tank that did nothing to conceal the deep saturated black tentacles writhing from just below the collar of the tank and stretched up in tangles over his neck and spread out once more just under his jaw;
A few subtly creeping up towards the very lower edges on each side of his jaw. Hidden on the underside of his jaw was the Elder Futhark rune alphabet of Nordic runes stretching like a collar from one side to the other in red ink. Hanging in a silver dangle over his chest was Thor’s hammer, Mjolnir, on a silver chain. His rolled up sleeves revealed the Nordic knots along his forearms, the twin wolves(one on each arm) devouring the ripped knots. Their fur black and grey, but one’s eyes were a burning fire, and the other were just as vibrant green as his own. His lower half stalked with black cargos, decked in pockets and buckled straps. Six pockets and eight straps.
My oc
He was getting further lost in thought and there by the flowers in the early evening, life seemed to have come to a halt. The sound of the people walking around him, the mess of their voices being combined into a cloud of word fog. The lights and the signs, the smells... it all disappeared and soon it was him and the flowers in an empty room.
"She would choose you..." He said, the words clear to himself in his thoughts but just a mumble to anyone that would be close enough to even hear him say anything at all.
Interrupted by her voice, he seemed to awaken from a deep slumber. For a moment, he even looked at her in a near-drowsy manner while he tried to process her words. The interruption had been gentle, much like the way a boyfriend or girlfriend would nudge their partner awake if they'd worked overtime and came home to find them sleeping on the couch. Even though it had been ages for him, he was still capable of making that comparison.
"Ah..." He said, retracting his hand as if he got burned by the petal and giving her a thoughtful nod. What could he say to that? Did he have to apologize? He was going to buy them anyways so that would be his problem, wouldn't it?
"She wouldn't know how long they've be-.... oh." He spoke, completely having missed his turn by overthinking his response and now talking through her sentence in a less than respectful manner. He let her finish hers and cleared his throat, his thumb rubbing over his other hand out of mild discomfort.
"I'm sorry... and yes, she is very special." he said with a small smile. The smile didn't quite reach his ears but his gaze had since travelled from the flowers to her, briefly lingering on those brown eyes she had.
He was grateful when an unknown third added himself to their interaction, although not because he found her boring or because he didn't want to talk to her. It was merely a welcomed distraction and a good excuse to pry his attention away from her eyes... as well as the foot out of his mouth for that matter.
As the dark haired man spoke excuses for his interruption and moved on, he saw his potential lifeline walking away from them and his eyes shot up in light alert. Taking the bouquet he had touched, he proceeded to take two steps away from the flower stand in order to put some distance between himself and the unfolding situation.
"You're fine, I didn't mean to keep the entire stand to myself." He said to the other, who was clearly stronger and taller than he would ever be. His voice was rather loud, louder than expected in hopes of being able to reach the man even if he had placed himself away from them. If he failed to or hell, even if it worked... the chance were that he'd look as ridiculous as his customer had looked earlier.
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