What Ren was doing could not be called looming. They did not know how it felt to be capable of causing fear in others. Now they did, but they did not yet know that--truly, they were no thoughts, head empty, though it would probably be more true to say that they were many thoughts, head empty, wholly unknowing of what they had caused in spite of being Ren (little, old). Their mind was elsewhere. It was
The sound of something being unzipped split the air, and Ren's stomach plunged. Their body jerked; they recoiled, stumbled; almost dropping the gun, before finally, wildly, pulling it around to point at something they couldn't even see yet. Their nerves were jolting aimlessly--unsure of what to do but recalling that they needed to do something, finger on the trigger, twitching, screaming at Ren. What were they waiting for. What were they waiting for?
Then their eyes caught up, alighted on the boy, the boy, he was, they knew him, he was--
"Christ on a popsicle stick, Timothy!" they yelped. "I could've killed you! Wait! Um! Stop! Don't move!"
in the pines
this was definitely always the title (open!)
Timothy stared back with widened eyes at the figure that popped into view. His right hand was packed into the bag; he tried to pull it out, but the hole wasn't big enough, and he kept getting caught on the zipper before finally forcing his hand out.
He carefully lifted that hand a bit up, facing towards them open-palmed.
"Uh, hi! Nice jacket." He mumbled, baring his teeth in an attempt at a smile. At least until he saw the gun pointed at him.
Why does it figure they'd give something like that to one of the tiny ones in class?
"Whoa, come on, uh, Ren! What the fuck am I gonna do?"
He carefully lifted that hand a bit up, facing towards them open-palmed.
"Uh, hi! Nice jacket." He mumbled, baring his teeth in an attempt at a smile. At least until he saw the gun pointed at him.
Why does it figure they'd give something like that to one of the tiny ones in class?
"Whoa, come on, uh, Ren! What the fuck am I gonna do?"
The boy's hands turned up, empty; Ren jerked the point of the gun away, breathed, and beheld their first human.
REN VU: START
His name was Timothy, and for a first man, he was exactly middle of the road. Not a friend, not an enemy, and he was showing Ren his palms. They would gladly settle for him if they had a choice in the matter (they did not). Nice jacket, he said, with a courtesy of a smile. And, What the fuck am I gonna do? What was it about punks and complimenting jackets?
"You too. The jacket, I mean."
Ren did have a nice jacket, after all; it was layered under the other jacket they were currently wearing, which perhaps was also nice.
Or perhaps he was just joking, and Ren was in on the joke, and anyways why should Ren care?
Why should Timothy care?
"I could've killed you," they repeated, and seeing that their hands were trembling something bad, they sighed, and they lowered the gun all the way. The safety was on, they realized, and felt a grateful numbness. The twitches of Ren's incoherent trigger finger probably wouldn't have been enough to pull the trigger even had the safety been off, mind, but Ren's brain didn't trust itself with the word probably. They were supposed to count their blessings; someone had taught them that, though they couldn't remember who.
"The safety was on. Lucky. I could have killed you. What the fuck are you gonna do?"
REN VU: START
His name was Timothy, and for a first man, he was exactly middle of the road. Not a friend, not an enemy, and he was showing Ren his palms. They would gladly settle for him if they had a choice in the matter (they did not). Nice jacket, he said, with a courtesy of a smile. And, What the fuck am I gonna do? What was it about punks and complimenting jackets?
"You too. The jacket, I mean."
Ren did have a nice jacket, after all; it was layered under the other jacket they were currently wearing, which perhaps was also nice.
Or perhaps he was just joking, and Ren was in on the joke, and anyways why should Ren care?
Why should Timothy care?
"I could've killed you," they repeated, and seeing that their hands were trembling something bad, they sighed, and they lowered the gun all the way. The safety was on, they realized, and felt a grateful numbness. The twitches of Ren's incoherent trigger finger probably wouldn't have been enough to pull the trigger even had the safety been off, mind, but Ren's brain didn't trust itself with the word probably. They were supposed to count their blessings; someone had taught them that, though they couldn't remember who.
"The safety was on. Lucky. I could have killed you. What the fuck are you gonna do?"
Timothy kept his hands up. His palms showed both surrender and a lack of weapons they could not shoot cause of that, if they were sensible, it was a bit of a crapshoot to guess, considering they probably were the ones that fired a bit ago, but what the hell was he supposed to do? He couldn't drag out whatever he had in the bag in time, and if he pulled anything now they were free to shoot.
"Thanks," He muttered; it was the best idea to be on the good side of a person with a gun. Ren might be tiny, but they could blow his head off any minute now, especially with the shit they were saying.
Talking about killing him and how lucky he was? That the safety was on? Have they already lost it?
Lucky was the word they were using, but Timothy could not agree on that. If he was lucky, he might have had, I'unno, a machine gun or something like that, maybe not been bailed on by the first person that he had met. Maybe he wouldn't have been dumped out into the cold like a sack of potatoes. You know, shit like that.
"Uh, I don't know? Run? Like, I don't want to be shot or anything! I got nothing!" His back was against the tree; he was seated towards the ground, legs fumbling against snow for a bit as he kept his hands up.
"Look, can I, y'know, at least stand or something?"
"Thanks," He muttered; it was the best idea to be on the good side of a person with a gun. Ren might be tiny, but they could blow his head off any minute now, especially with the shit they were saying.
Talking about killing him and how lucky he was? That the safety was on? Have they already lost it?
Lucky was the word they were using, but Timothy could not agree on that. If he was lucky, he might have had, I'unno, a machine gun or something like that, maybe not been bailed on by the first person that he had met. Maybe he wouldn't have been dumped out into the cold like a sack of potatoes. You know, shit like that.
"Uh, I don't know? Run? Like, I don't want to be shot or anything! I got nothing!" His back was against the tree; he was seated towards the ground, legs fumbling against snow for a bit as he kept his hands up.
"Look, can I, y'know, at least stand or something?"
Their mom! Mom had taught them that; of course. Ren shook their head; they couldn't afford distractions, and mom wasn't here. She probably didn't know what had happened to her daughter-shaped child yet, and she couldn't have known then; Ren could hardly hold the thought against her now, though they kinda ached to.
Another minor blessing was that Timothy was taking this seriously; it felt important to Ren, who did not want him to die, and who wanted very badly to impress upon him that he could have, already. Of course, they hadn't realized that they were currently threatening, though they probably should have.
Instinct told them they should blink several times in Timothy's direction, here. They did so.
"I'm sorry. Yes, you can," they said; they nodded, a sharp jerk of the chin. "Please don't open your bag."
Ren didn't want to think about what would've happened had he pulled a gun on them. They were doing the same, of course.
"I don't want to shoot you," they said, except this too was threatening, so they added a quick "by the way."
Which probably helped.
Another minor blessing was that Timothy was taking this seriously; it felt important to Ren, who did not want him to die, and who wanted very badly to impress upon him that he could have, already. Of course, they hadn't realized that they were currently threatening, though they probably should have.
Instinct told them they should blink several times in Timothy's direction, here. They did so.
"I'm sorry. Yes, you can," they said; they nodded, a sharp jerk of the chin. "Please don't open your bag."
Ren didn't want to think about what would've happened had he pulled a gun on them. They were doing the same, of course.
"I don't want to shoot you," they said, except this too was threatening, so they added a quick "by the way."
Which probably helped.
"...Thanks?" He said in response, keeping his hands up as he stared at Ren: who was now blinking repeatedly at him. He did not know what the deal with that was if they were trying anything, had something in their eye, or if they suddenly knew morse code. What Timothy knew was that they had a gun; sure, it was pointed at the ground now, but it was pointed straight at him just a bit ago, and there was nothing he could do about it.
"Just to be clear, I ain't pulling anything!" He answered quickly, wiggling his hands to show they were there to stay.
Ren said they did not want to shoot him, but could he believe that? Did they not fire earlier, or was that someone else wandering around? Were there more people with guns around here? Did they see them?
"Uh, that shot earlier... was that you?"
"Just to be clear, I ain't pulling anything!" He answered quickly, wiggling his hands to show they were there to stay.
Ren said they did not want to shoot him, but could he believe that? Did they not fire earlier, or was that someone else wandering around? Were there more people with guns around here? Did they see them?
"Uh, that shot earlier... was that you?"
Oh! He had been scared because he had--ah. Ren should've figured that out earlier.
They furrowed their brow. To lie would be--but what did it matter?--dreadful to have to think so hard about every decision, when a single wrong turn could send them walking to their death. Dreadful to have so many decisions to make in such a short period of time.
Perhaps their final moments would be spent making yet more decisions, Ren thought, and cried internally.
"Yes. That was me. I don't know if you'll believe me, but I was simply testing the gun. How it would feel in my hands. How my ears would react, and then, my brain."
They turned that feeling in their head, and said, "It feels. Weird. Practicing in case I'll ever need to--you know. If you were wondering. And it's really loud. Sorry to have scared you. If you're still scared," here it seemed their trachea attempted to rebel against their next words, but was promptly quashed, "would you like to leave? Won't shoot. Promise. If I wanted to shoot I already would have."
They furrowed their brow. To lie would be--but what did it matter?--dreadful to have to think so hard about every decision, when a single wrong turn could send them walking to their death. Dreadful to have so many decisions to make in such a short period of time.
Perhaps their final moments would be spent making yet more decisions, Ren thought, and cried internally.
"Yes. That was me. I don't know if you'll believe me, but I was simply testing the gun. How it would feel in my hands. How my ears would react, and then, my brain."
They turned that feeling in their head, and said, "It feels. Weird. Practicing in case I'll ever need to--you know. If you were wondering. And it's really loud. Sorry to have scared you. If you're still scared," here it seemed their trachea attempted to rebel against their next words, but was promptly quashed, "would you like to leave? Won't shoot. Promise. If I wanted to shoot I already would have."
Timothy's fears were confirmed when they admitted they shot the gun. To test it, they said. And not just testing it, but this weird thing about how it feels, how it would sound, how it would... impact their brain? Some spooky shit, to be honest.
Timothy would get it if they wanted to see how it was as a gun, but this was some fucked up stuff. He liked it less and less that they had a gun.
They said it felt weird, which they both could agree on. Some more mumbo jumbo from them concerning shit and some apparent giving a damn about other people before they said the magic words.
He could leave.
He shuffled slightly to the right. His arms were still held up.
"I can go? For real?"
More shuffling ensued away from the tree; they both held eye contact with each other before Timothy burst into a sprint in a random direction.
"Thanks!" He shouted out loud. He retreated past the trees till his form was gone from sight.
He had no idea where he was going, and frankly, he did not care as long as it was not here.
((Timothy Adams continued in Iron Lotus))
Timothy would get it if they wanted to see how it was as a gun, but this was some fucked up stuff. He liked it less and less that they had a gun.
They said it felt weird, which they both could agree on. Some more mumbo jumbo from them concerning shit and some apparent giving a damn about other people before they said the magic words.
He could leave.
He shuffled slightly to the right. His arms were still held up.
"I can go? For real?"
More shuffling ensued away from the tree; they both held eye contact with each other before Timothy burst into a sprint in a random direction.
"Thanks!" He shouted out loud. He retreated past the trees till his form was gone from sight.
He had no idea where he was going, and frankly, he did not care as long as it was not here.
((Timothy Adams continued in Iron Lotus))
Last edited by Jilly on Fri Dec 02, 2022 10:03 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Reason: just linking threads since timothy is under my care now
Reason: just linking threads since timothy is under my care now
He ran from Ren as soon as he had the chance, which they didn’t mind. Plenty had ran from them before, or backed away slowly, or found convenient excuses to wander off. It had hurt, and now it did not—or, they couldn’t allow it to, and if there was a difference, who cared?
Besides, life and death matters had a way of making everything impersonal.
Correction: not everything, but nearly. Ren couldn't live on nothing, after all.
[Ren Vu continued in Fragment 24d]
Besides, life and death matters had a way of making everything impersonal.
Correction: not everything, but nearly. Ren couldn't live on nothing, after all.
[Ren Vu continued in Fragment 24d]