333 Posts
EP
EXP
Total
27 Years
Female
Student-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Charlotte Fujioka on May 14, 2020 23:01:44 GMT -4
need a body cry? THE SHOWER WAS NICE-- Charlotte had no profound “shower thoughts” throughout the whole process, but instead had a monk-like quietness of mind. Which… well, given how the past near-week had been so chaotic, was saying something. The prawn stood facing the relentless stream, chin tipped up as if in prayer, for quite a while—then, when she realized that she was probably wasting her host’s water, she found some body wash and made quick work of soaping-down.
Nearly twenty minutes later, the water was turned-off. Charlotte retrieved the towel, which she had deposited by the door of the shower, and patted herself dry so as not to risk tearing the plush, woven fabric. Once mostly dry, clothes were wriggled back into… and the prawn took a moment to size herself up in the mirror. She cracked a smile at her reflection, her outer maxillae spreading, and she raised a hand at her mirrored-self—no, that seemed too stilted—she folded her arms and nodded—no, too nonchalant. How did people make good first impression on people who didn’t want them there? Whatever… Charlotte pulled a fresh (well, mostly fresh) shirt on over her head, replaced her surgical mask over her mouthparts, and, with dirty clothes and used towel in-arm, wandered back out into the apartment.
Elena greeted the prawn as she emerged. Charlotte went first to her bag, tucking the clothes inside, before zippering it. She then went, with her towel, to the counter where Elena had directed her.
“Thank you, tía,” the prawn said quietly, leaning against a chair without taking a seat, “Wh… what would you like me to do with my towel?”
Whatever direction Elena gave Charlotte, she would follow that, first, before taking a modest helping of rice and egg. Her stomach yowled, insisting that the serving was not enough, but she didn’t want to gorge herself in front of a virtual stranger. It wasn’t polite. She didn’t, however, have her usual timidness about eating—she was famished. The prawn unhooked her mask, carefully taking the chopsticks into her hand, and she began to steadily eat away at the tamagoyaki.
She chose a seat at the far end of the counter, conveniently out of the view of the door. She sat sort-of folded up into her chair, watching Elena worked, listening as she talked.
A familiar warmth was rising behind her eyes as Elena encouraged her to take as much as she want. God, she was just like Alma… the prawn was so lost in the meal before her—her first real meal in days—that she missed the remark about Elena’s “serpiente tonta”. In fact, she was only even half-paying attention as the door to the apartment opened.
Any feelings of warmth or nostalgia quickly swung in the opposite direction when the Boyfriend finally slithered—literally—into the kitchen.
It was none other than Mikhail Orlov.
Charlotte’s blood turned cold in her veins, watching owlishly as Orlov-sensei greeted Elena—what’s he doing here?!—wait, he’s The Boyfriend?! She was a deer in the headlights, waiting for the car to hit her. Mikhail finally glanced her way… experiencing a similar revelation. Student and teacher were now in the same apartment—his apartment—neither one entirely sure of how the other had gotten there.
The prawn, who had been staring at Mikhail like she’d seen a ghost, dropped her gaze, her outer maxillae clenching in her own version of a frown.
Shit.
How would she get out of this one?
Was there any getting-out of this one?
Play it cool, Charlotte. Play it cool.
“H-hey, sensei,” her voice was hoarse, kinda wet. The very opposite of cool, “Strange, uh… strange seeing you here, in uh… your apartment. N-nice place.”
She returned the handshake, but she didn’t meet his eyes—her vision was blurring, and the prawn was currently fighting the impulse to blink. If she blinked, she’d cry—and now her dignity was on the line.
Once the handshake was exchanged, the prawn braced her arms across her chest, rubbing her head with one hand. She did not immediately return to the food—there was a simmering nausea in the pit of her stomach. Mabye… she could just… leave? Pretend like Orlov-sensei had never seen her? Her gaze cut towards the door.
“I…”
Another pause. She cleared her throat. How could a two-meter-tall prawn look so small?
“I had to get out of the house,” she murmured, the confession very small and almost imperceptible, “I was… I was freaking-out, sensei. It was... everything was… too much and I just… I had to go.”
All it took was that admission of guilt for the prawn’s eyes to well-over. She dug the heel of her hand into her forehead, ducking her head further. The panic was rising in her throat.
“E… excuse me, please—“ she turned the chair and slid from it. She had to get out of there.
The prawn crossed the living room towards the foyer, seeking-out her backpack amidst the things by the door.
This was like her worst nightmare, come to life—she’d skirted under the radar for the better part of a decade, bolting whenever things got rough, starting afresh, never having anyone look too close at her. She was supposed to be the strong one. The do-it-yourself mechanic that rose above her lot in life.
Not some panicky, weak teen. Charlotte’s carapace sputtered to life, glowing weakly as she grabbed her bag and reached for the doorknob.
She had to get out of there, now—the last thing she wanted was to breakdown in front of some teacher, particularly in their own house.
| ft. elena strike and mikhail orlov quirk: d-rank durability, range, swimming; f-rank regeneration, eyesight, and dexterity ooc notes: runnn, charlotte, ruuunnn |
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236 Posts
1 EP
EXP
Total
19 Years
Female
"Blue Blitz"
Watchdog-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Elena Strike on May 15, 2020 8:49:29 GMT -4
- REMIND YOURSELF - TO TAKE A MOMENT - AND FIND YOURSELF -
Elena showed Charlie a little hamper by the laundry room door, and then resumed her cooking. It was kind of really nice having more people in the house to enjoy the food she made. Not that she didn't get to experience that well enough at work, where the whole point was making food for people for money, but there was something in how Charlie's eyes lit up while eating that was so, so sweet and made Elena feel all warm (well, warmer) and fuzzy. Being called "Tia" again still made her chest ache, but...
...well, maybe it was time to readjust to the word, rather than hold onto the past.
As Mikhail's voice chimed from the door Elena's grin widened, and she moved from in front of Charlie to right at the end of the counter to meet him even faster. "Bienvenido a casa, mi amor! Ah--" she felt her cheeks tint blue at the produced violet, and with a practiced precision she took it and slid it into the hair above her ear, then stepped in to kiss him gently on the cheek. "There's still plenty for you, tonto."
When she stepped away to let Mikhail and Charlotte meet, Elena didn't make the same immediate connection both of them did. Not until they said each other's names. Elena blinked. What? She wouldn't have been surprised if Charlie was the one to recognize Mikhail--he was both a hero and an ex-idol, so that could have been a given--but he recognized her. He called her by name, even. "You know her?" Elena spoke in a soft, careful, but growing concerned tone. It reached its head when Charlie finally spoke and called him sensei.
Oh. Oh no.
Ella es una estudiante?!
Elena had so many questions all at once, but they took a back seat as she just watched the two interact, however briefly it was. Mikhail didn't look mad, but Charlie looked like she was ready to burst into tears (if she was reading her right, which was a bit hard in everything except for the eyes) all the same. She didn't remember him saying anything about a missing or expelled student, which she knew he would have, so then was he not even aware that she'd been on the streets? Was she supposed to be somewhere else? Why had she been where Elena found her, then?? Wha--oh great she was trying to make a break for it, and Mikhail's tail was in Elena's way.
A la mierda este estante.
"Ohnoyoudon't!" Elena spoke with a quick breath, and grasped the ledge of the counter with both hands before vaulting herself clear over it with way too much aim and practice for somebody who definitely didn't go jumping from rooftop to rooftop. Hopefully Mikhail wouldn't notice. But. Uh. Parkour? With that leap taking up most of the space she'd have to run to catch up to Charlie she managed to get just between her and the door, leaving only the space under her arm for the prawn to try to squeeze through, and as small as she may have felt right now Charlotte was absolutely not small enough to try that. Her hand held strong to the door frame.
Exhaling, she put the other hand on Charlie's shoulder, squeezing down a warm hand on her shell--not hard enough to hurt, but enough that she would have to swat it away to try to move. "No way, nuh-uh, you are not leaving this apartment like this. I don't care if you're a UA kid or not, you're in absolutely no sort of state to be out on your own right now. Mikky," she glanced at him from around Charlie, brow knit tight together with worry, "I had no idea, and I have no idea what's going on? But. Mírala. She needs a safe place right now. Let her explain before you go into teacher mode."
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115 Posts
5 EP
EXP
Total
21 Years
Male
"Serperior"
Rookie-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Mikhail Orlov on May 25, 2020 0:09:34 GMT -4
It really was better if Charlie left.
Mikhail Orlov wore many masks. Hero, teacher, lover, idol--each role lived in a walled-off section of his brain, neatly separated from the man underneath, costumes and tropes, woven from the scraps of the words of better men. All of his charades relied on his audience not peeking behind the curtain, or keeping the careful act balanced so no one saw him playing a different part.
All the same, Mikki felt his heart wrenching in his chest. Maybe if he’d been worse at reading people, he’d have managed to overlook the tears beading in her eyes. Maybe he could have ignored the sound of her choking on her words, the comfort Elena had carefully woven dying. That would have been nice.
All the same, he didn’t move to stop his former student as she turned toward the door.
Elena had different plans.
Mikki was actually shocked by how fast she moved--he knew his lover was athletic, but he’d never seen her jump like that before. People did crazy things when adrenaline was involved, and Elena was passionate. It was one of the things he loved most about her, especially since he often felt so….detached. So by the time he’d recognized the lump forming in his own throat, she’d already stopped Charlie in the door.
“...You’ve never seen me in teacher mode in your life, love.” Mikhail said dryly, looking down at his hand, which was still held out, numb and useless, from the handshake.
Was he a bad teacher? He’d never had training. All he could do is play it by ear, study frantically in off-hours, and try to compensate for Hachi’s unrelenting softness.
He looked up at Charlie, taking a deep breath. Jesus. She was what, seventeen? Two years ago, it had been Mikki sneaking out of the house--not to run as a ragged vagrant, but to get lost in his own way, in sex and drugs and booze, away from cameras, away from his parents, his band, his managers. How many walls had he thrown up to try to make everyone forget that he was only twenty-one, barely older than the student standing in his doorway.
“God. Did you actually think I was going to kick her out?” Mikki said, the spectre of his inaction hanging in the back of his throat, a cold, choking cloud.
Just let her leave. Very different.
“I--” Mikki started, then realized that he didn’t have a persona up. He was still mentally at home. As real, awkward, and directionless as he could get. He had no idea what he wanted or what he needed to say. “Hmm. Let’s….”
All he could do was try to be someone worth trusting. Someone he'd needed a few years ago. Willing to accept her without judgement, or criticism. A fresh start.
Mikki swallowed, and slithered forward, holding his hands, and giving Charlie a polite, respectful bow, as though he’d just met her, right there. They could pretend, couldn’t they?
“Let’s try this again. Hi. I’m Mikhail Orlov. You can call me Mikki-san. It’s nice to meet you.” He said, a smile dancing around his lips. His eyes were sad, but amusement also glittered there. "My home is yours. Try Elena's food, it's amazing. The couch is giant, and the windows hide the paparazzi with cameras outside. I have many spare Yukatas, most of which are long enough to fit several other people! The ferrets do nip, but only when they want to play, and they'll stop if you wiggle them!"
He moved aside, waving at the table, polite and non-threatening. Desperately hoping he could reach past all the defenses she’d suddenly thrown up.
“Some water? Tea? Cider? I’d offer you sake, but I try to avoid inflicting my own teenage mistakes on others.” Mikki shook his head, grinning a bit wider at that. “I’m sorry. I’m actually not used to entertaining guests here at all anymore. But it's good to have you!"
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333 Posts
EP
EXP
Total
27 Years
Female
Student-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Charlotte Fujioka on May 28, 2020 19:40:56 GMT -4
need a body cry? ELENA SAID SOMETHING FROM THE KITCHEN-- it sounded vaguely like a protest, but Charlotte couldn’t really make it out. Not that it mattered. What could the dark-skinned older woman do from her location? The prawn didn’t register the sounds of the other woman moving—didn’t even notice Elena until she was just in front of the prawn.
One moment, Charlotte was reaching for the door’s handle, and the next moment, Elena was in front of her. Elena’s body was the single barricade between the prawn and her only way out. A petite hand planted itself on the prawn’s shoulder. Charlotte straightened her spine slightly, looking Elena in the eye. Tears were dribbling down the seams between her facial scales, her lavender eyes swimming in them at this point.
“Elena, please,” the prawn pleaded gently. As appealing as a warm meal and a safe place to sleep sounded, she didn’t want to sleep in a teacher’s apartment. It was more trouble than it was worth. The clear answer was to just run further next time.
When it was clear that the Latina woman wasn’t so easily swayed, Charlotte would drop her gaze, mopping at her eyes with her alien hands.
She wanted to say that she’d be fine. She wanted to run. The hand on her shoulder felt like it weighed a ton, though. Even if Charlotte could have easily physically shrugged Elena off, emotionally she didn’t have it in her.
And then, Elena was pleading with Orlov-sensei, making an appeal to him to let Charlotte stay—to let Charlotte explain herself—
The prawn glanced back at Elena, shaking her head almost imperceptibly. Charlie had already said too much, she didn’t want to laying everything bare for Tsutsuji-sensei’s former-TA (and now 2-SS teacher) and his girlfriend. Not when she’d so carefully floated beneath the radar for so long.
Orlov-sensei slid into view, and the prawn turned to face him, bracing herself by clasping one arm in her hand once again. He bowed to her—and promptly went somewhere… artificial. Introduced himself, asked to be called Mikki-san. He donned a smiled that disagreed with his eyes.
It was… really weird. Really, really weird. But… well, finding a student randomly in your apartment was probably pretty weird, too. Orlov-sensei was trying his best, rattling-off the various facets of his apartment as if he was trying to sell it. Charlotte closed her eyes, sniffling. She tried to muster a smile, and almost succeeded.
She shrugged-off Elena’s hand, only to bow back to Mikhail, though, “Charlotte Fujioka. Th-Thank you for, erm, having me.”
When she righted herself, Charlotte’s expression was still undeniably sad, though. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Mikhail directly.
“Do I have to call you Mikki-san, sensei?” Charlotte countered, breathing a pitiful almost-laugh. Even in the throes of what probably qualified as a breakdown, Charlotte’s respectfulness wouldn’t let her call a teacher by their first name. And though pretending that this was a first-meeting, that Mikhail was not her teacher but some benevolent stranger, might ease the awkwardness, Charlotte was a pragmatist. It didn’t change the facts—the circumstances—of their meeting.
She could play along with the rest of it—but she couldn’t call him Mikki. Not when his girlfriend was calling him that, too. Definitely too weird.
“Cider would be… really nice,” the prawn hazarded, “Please.”
And the croquettes, too. The scent of food still hung heavily on the air, and made Charlotte’s stomach yowl over the missed opportunity. It’d been so long since she’d eaten something substantial.
She glanced at Elena out of the corner of her eyes, taking her cues from the older woman. There was something contrite in the prawn’s expression—regret, perhaps, over not having been more transparent?
| ft. elena strike and mikhail orlov quirk: d-rank durability, range, swimming; f-rank regeneration, eyesight, and dexterity ooc notes: even when i encountered former high school teachers of mine as a fellow professional, i still couldn't call them by their first names. LOL |
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236 Posts
1 EP
EXP
Total
19 Years
Female
"Blue Blitz"
Watchdog-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Elena Strike on May 29, 2020 15:59:38 GMT -4
- REMIND YOURSELF - TO TAKE A MOMENT - AND FIND YOURSELF -
A less mature, more irritated Elena might have sniffed and reminded Mikhail that he had, on more than one occasion, used his "teacher voice" on her in certain scenarios, but that wasn't something appropriate to bring up in front of a student. As he went silent and started collecting whatever he was about to say her eyes returned to Charlie. The poor poor prawn still looked so sad, sadder than any crustacean Elena had ever seen. And, surprisingly, she had seen a couple this size in her life. Or was Goliath an insect? She kept messing up that one. Actually, were shrimp crustaceans?
Aurgh, animal shows on television hadn't prepared her for this.
"No bajo mi vigilancia, pequeña. No es seguro allá afuera." She spoke in a soft tone, but not in a hush. This was a place Charlie could be comfortable. She wasn't going to let her feel unwelcome. What was taking Mikhail so long to talk to her? This was one of his students. Even though Elena's intentions were good, this was still more of his responsibility than hers. That had never stopped her from meddling before but still.
He finally approached and tried the "introduction" again, and Elena let out a small sigh of relief. It looked like this would work. Charlie's posture had gone from "ready to bolt" to an awkward sort of calm. She wouldn't protest to her arm being moved now. She did, however, snort into her palm at Charlotte being unable to use the casual nickname Mikhail had given her. "What about 'Mikki-sensei'? Does that work?" She moved her hand from the frame of the door and nudged Charlie back towards her seat with little "shoo shoo" motions of her hands. "Siéntate, siéntate. I can hear your belly from here. I'll get the cider." Once she was sure Charlie was in fact sitting down and not waiting for the path to the door to be clear, Elena stepped over Mikhail's tail to get back into the cupboards, though she took a second to peck him on the cheek as she passed. She was happy that he wasn't arguing about her staying, and trying to help--not that she'd doubted he would. "There's a plate for you too, querido amante."
Elena went for the cupboard and procured one simple glass cup and then went to fetch the jug of cider from the fridge. While setting things up she kept half of her attention on the two talking. It was a little weird to think that Charlie was looking at both of them and thinking of them as adults. Elena was only three years older than her, and Mikhail only four. Between them, neither was that much more mature than her. They just looked and acted the part--Mikhail more than she ever did, admittedly.
Aunque si actuamos más maduros, eso nos hace más maduros?
O solo lo está fingiendo?
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115 Posts
5 EP
EXP
Total
21 Years
Male
"Serperior"
Rookie-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Mikhail Orlov on Jun 11, 2020 20:52:45 GMT -4
“No, no--I understand perfectly. ” Mikhail said, hiding his grin under the expression of noble forgiveness. “Young miss Fujioka is simply overwhelmed by the majesty of this apartment. Thus, she can feel free to call me Mikki-dono should it make her more comfortable! Or maybe Orlov-dono? Don-Orochi!”
With a regal wave of his hand, Mikki pre-emptively dismissed any future complaints, and, as requested, slithered back into the kitchen to help Elena get cider. When his back was turned, he grimaced. Fujioka’s hackles were too raised, and he’d missed the mark with his “suggestion” they act like strangers. Elena was really the only thing keeping her grounded.
So prickly. So vulnerable.
Once again, he considered the wisdom of trying to help further. It honestly might be the best he could do to let Elena do her work, and remain uninvolved.
Ow. My teacherly pride. Sidelined in my own house.
That didn’t sit well with him at all.
“Hot cider, or cold?” He called out cheerily, taking a seat at the table across from Charlie, no trace of his internal struggle in his voice. He’d slipped easily into his new role of friendly, slightly smug host, burying the game from earlier. One face to another. His body was a snake, but in truth, he was probably more a chameleon.
Let’s see. Normalcy. Subjects that open the door to talk, but don’t trigger anything. Sadly, my best prior experiences in this situation involve offering alcohol, or weed.
Well, anything I do is an improvement, nearly.
“Elena, I warn you now, I’m going to need noodle therapy tonight. We’re talking about Common Law in class, and...well. The usual.”
It was probably not a great start to complain about other students in front of a former student.
“Hopefully, I can call Tanji-san before tomorrow.” He said, taking a bit of food, pausing his speech to savor the delicious warmth. “My lawyer, and this unit's secret real professor. This is amazing, love. Stop me from talking about work, Elena.”
Mikki grinned sheepishly at Charlie, aware he was straying from his plan a little.
“Save this coniversation. Talk about movies. Ask me about my wall decorations. Compliment the food more--Elena’s a professional chef, but she’ll also cook for praise. Actually--I have a question: You’re from the states, yes? What food do you miss most?"
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333 Posts
EP
EXP
Total
27 Years
Female
Student-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Charlotte Fujioka on Jun 18, 2020 19:38:50 GMT -4
need a body cry? THE PRAWN WAS TRYING... LIKE, really, truly trying to pick herself up. It was safe here. Elena had more-than proved that she was only interested in the prawn’s well-being, and Orlov-sensei was… well, her sensei. If there were any two people that Charlie would be in good hands with, it was a teacher and his girlfriend. She breathed a heavy sigh at Elena’s insistence that Charlie couldn’t leave.
It wasn’t safe, out there. But here was. And “here” was a place away from the Frat House and away from her parents. Charlie inhaled deeply again, then breathed another sigh. It was like the urge to fight—to run—was leaving her with those breaths. She was tired.
It was an awkward sort of calm… but Charlie was no longer trying to make a break for it, which was progress at least.
“S-suuuure, Mikki-sensei works,” Charlotte yielded, “Or…” a snort, a sign of some dimly-flickering humor somewhere in the ball of stress that Charlotte had wound so tightly, “Or Don-Orochi.”
It was still weird to call a teacher by their first name, but… well, the prawn could compromise, she supposed.
Particularly if one name made Orlov-sensei sound like some Italian Mafioso. (How was that for a mental image?)
Charlie allowed herself to be corralled by Elena, padding towards the seats at the counter. Still feeling timid, however, she took the seat in the corner, closest to the wall. The prawn carefully moved the seat back before clambering into it, clasping her hands in her lap.
“Either is fine, thank you,” the prawn said complacently. As an after-thought, Charlotte added, “…don-Orochi.”
She really was trying. Her attention waned a bit as Orlov-sensei began to recount his day. At first, Charlie watched how he ate his croquette, having never eaten one before and personally unsure of how to attack it—before following suit. Charlie lifted her chopsticks, retrieved two croquettes, and began the laborious process of trying to cut them into bite-sized pieces with her chopsticks.
The prawn did not connect the dots about the fact that Orlov-sensei was talking about the classes he was teaching, and vaguely wondered if he was in university? The teachers were so young at U.A., or young-seeming… except Nishimura-sensei…
The croquettes were perfectly divided into bite-sized pieces before the prawn had even removed her surgical mask. Oh, yeah. That. Even in the most familiar situations, she was timid about eating around others. Even in her own house, she wore an “eating mask”. But the mask was in her backpack… would it be rude to get up again?
Charlotte hesitantly undid her surgical mask, folding it neatly before tucking it into her pocket. She’d just be… really careful. So she didn’t make a mess.
To the outside observer, it looked like the prawn was spacing-out… which, honestly, was perfectly accurate.
Then, Orlov-sensei was addressing her, and the prawn looked up guiltily. She’d only just picked-up the first bite of croquette, and it hadn’t even made it to her mouth yet. She wasn’t much of a movie buff, but had been… enjoying streaming some “classics” that she’d never known, she supposed. A confused look towards the wall décor—a confused look towards the food she hadn’t eaten—and again looking back at Orlov-sensei. It would seem that Charlotte was doing her best impression of a deer in the headlights.
“I… uh…” the prawn mentally sorted through the prompts in her mind, organizing them by “easiest to answer honestly”.
“My tia Alma’s tamales, probably,” Charlotte confessed, choosing the only direct question out of all the prompts that Orlov had offered, “She’d invite her family over to Chief’s apartment around Christmastime, and we’d take days to make tamales. It was busy and loud, and it smelled so good. But I was just a kid, then, so I don’t really remember how it’s done.”
The prawn finally took a bite of the croquette, maxillipeds pushing the modest bite back to the mandibles, for chewing. She held a hand to her mouth, safeguarding from any potential crumbs.
“And you? Is there food that reminds you of home?”
Oh, that was really good. It was like her stomach had forgotten what real food tasted like, after days of chips, instant-ramen, and soda. Forgetting a little bit of her shyness, the prawn picked-up a few more pieces of croquette with her chopsticks, taking a second bite that was more zealous than the first.
“These are really good,” the prawn finally remarked, holding her hand in front of her mouth again as she addressed Elena, “Delicious. Thank you.”
| ft. elena strike and mikhail orlov quirk: d-rank durability, range, swimming; f-rank regeneration, eyesight, and dexterity ooc notes: Don-Orochi in a fedora and zoot suit, make it so!! |
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236 Posts
1 EP
EXP
Total
19 Years
Female
"Blue Blitz"
Watchdog-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Elena Strike on Jun 18, 2020 20:15:01 GMT -4
- REMIND YOURSELF - TO TAKE A MOMENT - AND FIND YOURSELF -
"Hmm, I know I prefer it warmed, and it is still kind of brisk outside, so!"
Elena took a second glass from the shelf, because even if he hadn't said anything she wasn't going to let Mikhail go without a drink, and he needed to warm up if he wasn't going to wrap up around her as usual. He probably wouldn't while a student was here. Alas. She understood at least. Pouring a decent amount of cider into each of the glasses--both of which were shaped like normal coffee mugs, but completely transparent--she then picked up both of them and started walking back to the counter.
As she did, her palms, just below each the base of the mugs, began to glow with soft blue light that grew brighter and brighter, and slowly the contents of the mugs began to steam. Just as quickly as the light had appeared it vanished, and she set both of them in front of their respected drinkers. Elena winked coyly at Mikhail. Sure, she didn't have a license for Quirk use, but in the privacy of their own home? He had let her do it before. And she felt a little left out of the party, with both of their Quirks being so visible. She wanted to keep the thought that she was the same in Charlie's head. It might help her a little. And admittedly Elena did like showing off a bit.
Leaning herself besides Mikhail's spot she fell into casually staring at him. It wasn't on purpose. He was just so cute, especially when he was eating her cookign and being all awkward and nervous. Those little breaks in his otherwise carefully crafted masks were what made her notice him in the first place. That hadn't changed in the year they'd been together. When he begged for her help, though, she snorted, and gently patted the back of his hand with her own. "No puedo detenerte cuando eres tan lindo. You're sure that one's going into medicine, not into schooling? Because the way you talk about her it sounds like she'd make a horrifyingly effective teacher."
The ball got passed to Charlotte, who responded as well as a teenager suddenly put on the spot usually would. Especially one who hadn't been super in-tune with the conversation. Whoopsie. Elena's expression softened as she answered, her hand still resting on Mikhail's own. Awww, the sweet little thing. Tamales were a Mesoamerican dish, not something she'd ever cooked or had, but the way she described it and the setting where which she'd have them were more important than that. Maybe she'd give it a look-up sometime? She hadn't really tried to make any Mexican cuisine.
Partially because G kept calling her a Mexican when she bugged him, which was both super annoying and a wee bit racist. But she also called his Hawaiian ass "pale", so...
"De nada, maní! And you, stop bragging on my behalf--I'm perfectly capable of being smug without the added audience participation," she gave Mikki a little raspberry (a most mature and adult-ey gesture) and walked back around the counter so she was in front of Charlie, a finger on her lips. "If I had to name anything, it'd be Torrijas. It's a sweet fried bread, soaked in milk and honey. Kind of like French toast? I'm planning on making a bunch when Lent rolls around, but it's different when you don't have the right bread for it..." She glanced down and toward the stove. Hmm, she should come up with something for a dessert, shouldn't she? Maybe while they were doing their noodle therapy. She should give them a chance to be a little alone, yeah?
Not right now, obviously, but once the mood was better, there was the mystery of why a student would run away from the dorm, and why she hadn't wanted to go home.
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115 Posts
5 EP
EXP
Total
21 Years
Male
"Serperior"
Rookie-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Mikhail Orlov on Jun 29, 2020 22:31:37 GMT -4
Normally, Mikki would have been a little offended at his inability to command Charlie’s attention, but--well, she’d clearly had a rough couple days.She had gone along with his silly name scheme, as well. He could forgive her for not hanging off his every word.
Just for tonight, at least.
Besides, it helped him compose himself so he didn’t stare while Charlie ate. He couldn’t help but be curious about how her mouth worked, mechanically. But that would be impolite, and Mikki was not about to be impolite like that to a fellow mutant. Luckily, it seemed like his ice-breaker had hit a mark--Charlie seemed a little more comfortable talking about home. A relief. Mikki always had troubles talking about his own past.
So naturally, Charlie had to ask about it.
Mikki felt himself smile at that chain of conversation. He’d opened himself right up for that.
Fortunately, Elena bought him time to think by speaking up herself.
She’d been staring at him. Why? Did he have something on his face?
Mikki dabbed at his lips with a napkin, a little worried he might smear his makeup. It wasn’t much--light concealer and gloss, enough to hide the bags that had developed under his eyes.
His girlfriend was picking at something. What did she want?
Mikki felt his stomach get a little tight. Elena was usually so blunt. Maybe he should just ask...but…
--Back to him.
Well, two could play that game!
“That sounds lovely, Elena. And I’ll brag as much as I want, thank you, it just makes me look better by proxy.” He bantered back, batting his eyelashes coquettishly--and infuriatingly.
Mikki cleared his throat, face now utterly innocent, and turned back to Charlie. “Tricky question, Charlie. My family had a chef. Lots of traditional Japanese foods have good memories, but…”
Mikki pondered another moment, wondering if he was about to embarrass himself. “Gyuodon--It’s basically fast food, you can buy it on any street corner, the little beef bowls? That’s what they’re called. It meant it was going to be a quiet evening. No guests. It was the only dish either of my parents would really prepare themselves.”
Oh. That was a little embarrassing.
“Most nights were formal dinners. If I smelled gyuodon, it meant a few things; first, dinner was going to be late, second, everyone was going to be too tired to talk much, and third, we’d get to watch TV or a movie while we ate together.” Mikki proceeded quickly, sounding airy and playful. “Uncommon, as you might imagine, for a child of socialites. Did either of you have any evening rituals before you got here? Or any that stayed, I suppose?”
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333 Posts
EP
EXP
Total
27 Years
Female
Student-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Charlotte Fujioka on Jul 15, 2020 2:07:02 GMT -4
need a body cry? THE PRAWN SMILED AS ELENA HEATED the beverage with her hands, no less fascinated than when the woman had first shown her power on the streets. When Elena surrendered the cider, Charlotte murmured thanks, wrapping her hands around the edges of the warmed mug eagerly. Charlotte slipped comfortably back into listening as Elena talked about torrijas, and then her attention was back on Orlov-sensei again.
Besides which, the croquettes were beckoning. Charlie did her best to remember her best, but man, as soon as food hit her stomach, the prawn realized how hungry she’d been. And knowing that this house was safe, that she wouldn’t have to “earn her meal” by working, that she was with teacher and his girlfriend. She… forgot to be self-conscious about eating by the second croquette.
It made her head a little fuzzy, and made her eyes feel a little damp at the corners. God, pull yourself together.
Charlotte focused back in as Orlov explained his own upbringing, taking delicate bites off of a third croquette. If she took small bites, she could maintain some semblance of modesty, and look at people while she ate.
He had a chef?! One brow ridge leapt. Wow! How rich did your family have to be to afford a chef?! Her antennae twitched, she looked down at the croquette—not even her bio-family had been rich enough for a chef. At least… not that she could recall.
The prawn’s expression settled into something more casually attentive as Orlov continued to explain his early life. It seemed so glamorous compared to the one-room apartment the prawn had known for so many years of her childhood. Dinners with more than just family, prepared by a chef…. Compared to sitting cross-legged on the couch or at the coffee table, usually with one of two adults in the house. It was like two different worlds.
But, in a way, totally alike. Neither Chief nor Alma had been good at cooking—everything was boxed, microwaved, or oven-baked. Or, even more routinely, take-out. There were few things that Charlie’s former “parents” prepared themselves, too. So, in that way, Charlie and Orlov-sensei were kindred spirits.
Nice to know that even socialites could be helpless at times.
Mikhail asked his next question—evening rituals. Like… brushing your teeth? Before you came here?
Before getting adopted?
Charlotte took another contemplative bite, chewing slowly.
“Tia Alma read to me before bed, a lot,” Charlie hazarded, “Even once I got older. She’d read, and I’d braid her hair, and then we’d all go to bed.”
On nights there wasn’t anything to do with Chief, of course. And some nights, Chief would kick Charlie out to the couch, but… most nights she had her bunk in the bedroom. The prawn “heh’d” softly, shrugging her shoulders.
“I don’t really… have anything like that for my current family, yet,” the prawn remarked lamely, “I haven’t been around them enough, being… at U.A. and all.”
Was it in bad taste to speak well of your old found-family, and say nothing about your current, adoptive one? They really were lovely people!! But… Charlie didn’t know them as well as her last family.
| ft. elena + mikhail quirk: d-rank durability, range, swimming; f-rank regeneration, eyesight, and dexterity ooc notes: wherein the prawn relaxes just a little bit |
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236 Posts
1 EP
EXP
Total
19 Years
Female
"Blue Blitz"
Watchdog-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Elena Strike on Jul 19, 2020 22:21:54 GMT -4
- REMIND YOURSELF - TO TAKE A MOMENT - AND FIND YOURSELF -
It wasn't the first time that Elena had heard Mikhail talking about his family. A distant as it seemed he was from them at times, she did know they emailed back and forth, and he told her some stories now and then about them. This was a new one though. She couldn't imagine not living with a family who could cook--so many of her fondest childhood moments were spent with her mother learning how to do what she did. But thinking like that made her chest ache and she didn't want to dwell on it anymore. She was going to have to look up Gyuodon though. Even if he described it as "fast food" she was curious to know if she could make something close to it, to give him a little surprise on a night when he was especially tired. A secret for a rainy day.
He tried to play it off, but it was definitely something precious to him, to some degree.
Sí, definitivamente necesitaré investigar cómo hacerlo.
"You know my bedtime routines, serpiente tonta. Most of them have to do with this," Elena raised her hands to her hair and ran her fingers through the soft, thick curls that made up her afro, "Keeping this style up takes soooo much work. I've got to wrap it, specially wash it, blow dry it...and let's not get into bleaching the damn thing every month to keep my roots from peeking through. I don't do that before bedtime, at least." She hummed and lowered her hands to rest on the kitchen counter. Charlie's own tale was much sweeter than her own, and again it made her chest ache in a way she really would have rathered it didn't. It also made her wonder why a sweet thing like he was in the system--she assumed, just from her words--instead of with these people she spoke about so gently. That felt like a landmine, though.
So she went for a different approach. "What about at UA? I've heard more than a few horror stories about things that have happened in those dorms. Mostly to do with some...what are they called again? The aspiradoras robots? Vacuum cleaners." She snickered into her knuckles before returning slightly sparkling eyes onto Charlie again. "It must be a lot of fun, living with so many friends, even if it's a little crazy."
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