Metro Station

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

OoC: So Late. I'm so sorry. School really kicked my butt. But here you go! An unceremoniously short post! BiC:

Kenneth Dahl

Amid the flying books and Kenneth’s apologetic mumbles, a train rattled past, his pages rustling further until he could no longer decipher his place. No matter, he thought. It’s a short play. I’ll find my place again. But losing the fingerprint traces of Beckett’s black ink words was the least of his worries.

The man before him didn’t apologise. He just scribbled away on his little board. Probably an artist, absorbed in his vision. It was fine, really. Kenneth apologized too much, anyway, and didn’t know why he expected the same from other people. A knot of bitter resentment for the audacity of others clenched around his heart, muting the fervid lubs and dubs that resounded there.

But then the man turned the board around and Kenneth felt the colour drain from his face, pooling somewhere in his loafers. The man had inscribed his thoughts on a whiteboard and with an overly jubilant tone, the anonymously British voice in his head read I'm just starting Rockaby! Is it as good as it's made out to be? Sorry for running into you. I'm Alton by the way.

Maybe the man couldn’t talk. Suddenly, Kenneth felt awful for being even remotely embittered by his perceived rudeness. A smile broke onto his thin lips. “Hi, Alton!” he said, extending a hand, feeling his cheek glow red hot with fluster. “I’m Kenneth. Don’t worry about running into me. It’s rush hour on the metro. It’s going to happen. Rockaby is fantastic, really. Confusing, but you know… It’s Beckett. I’d expect nothing less!” He offered a half-hearted laugh. Then, biting into his lower lip nervously until he tasted the metallic tang of blood, “I didn’t hurt you, did I? When I ran into you just now?”

[Myssi]

OOC: I'm afraid I'm a bit late on the reply scale too, dearest. Apologies! First sick, then swamped with horse training. O__o
BiC:

Alton Stokholm

That was one of the problems of not being able to speak. As he was writing out his apology, Alton noticed the look of - disgust? - cross Kenneth's face, and it panged him that he would be misconceived as rude, for he tried to be the farthest from such a character trait. However, such a nonexistant trait was to be perceived when one expects someone to speak up and instead they are scribbling away on a whiteboard. Alton had never grown used to it, but now he wasn't as heartbroken over being judged by the persona he first put out as he used to be back when he was a teenager.

Kenneth. Alton had never met a Kenneth before, or at least not to his knowledge. Sometimes he had trouble keeping track of people, for his mind was jumpy and excited and faces blurred together and names raced away from his memory. He also extended a hand, which was fitted with fingerless gloves, and shook Kenneth's hand enthusiastically. He pulled the headphones down around his neck completely, so that he might listen better to the red-headed boy. Experience had taught him how difficult it could be to carry a conversation when one participate can only write, and that person misses something they are expected to respond to. Not only does it cause unneeded awkwardness but the ensuing repetition of words or the question can cause embarrassment for the one writing. He;d been there far too many times to count, but he remembered almost every time it had happened.

Ah, well, some of the best books are confusing, right? He wrote, the cheery grin never quite leaving his face. I like to think of The Hobbit as a fantastic example of that fact. And don't worry, I'm pretty sure all parts of me are intact... Are my eyebrows in their proper place? And are you hurt? He cocked his head at Kenneth a bit, worried that he could have hurt the other man in his foolishness.

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

OoC: Finally posted for you!! <3 BiC:

Kenneth Dahl

There was no answer from his speechless companion, and Kenneth’s heart raced. What if the man was bleeding internally from his run in with Kenneth? What if Alton no longer wanted to talk to him because he though Kenneth rude? What if Kenneth was over thinking it? That was the problem, he assumed, with only reading words. There was no inflection, no hidden semantics within the verbally italicized words, within the puns and plays on words. It was actually the only drawback to reading that Kenneth could think of. What if when the author was writing, they read the words differently than the reader is? What is lost? What is gained?

Ah, well, some of the best books are confusing, right? Alton finally wrote back, and Kenneth figured he was right. Kenneth found himself blissfully lost in the intricate words and letters of the complicated books he owned. I like to think of The Hobbit as a fantastic example of that fact. Kenneth shrugged. He had been meaning to finish that series. In fact, he had been meaning to start. He wondered if this mute man often got into in-depth debates about literature and how easily those were facilitated. And don't worry, I'm pretty sure all parts of me are intact... Are my eyebrows in their proper place? And are you hurt?

Kenneth chuckled. “I’m fine. Completely fine.” He looked at the man’s trimmed, nice eyebrows. “You’re eyebrows are fine… very fine, in fact. Nice job.” He sighed, shoving his numb hands into his pockets, book tucked snuggly under his arm. “So where are you off to, Alton? Are you giving these books a nice home?”