moving mountains (sonny)

[echo]

[atrb=border,0,false][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,423,true]

[atrb=background,http://i775.photobucket.com/albums/yy35/BaileeDanielle3/tables/2.png] [scrolly:h(156),w(390),sy] Elbows rested upon the dark table, one hand folded almost unnaturally under the naturally tan-skinned man's chin as he rested his head. The other hand holding a Java Chip Frappuccino close to him, fingers seemingly oblivious to the coldness of the frozen drink. It was almost full still, slowly melting, the texture becoming more of a liquid and less of a slush-type of drink like he preferred. It wasn't as if Slate cared though- it all tasted the same, despite the texture of the drink. The black haired man was hungry, the smell and taste of the drink doing nothing more than fill his empty stomach with supposed lost hopes. It wasn't as if he wasn't eating on purpose or starving himself, he just couldn't muster up any desire to actually go somewhere with actual food to order. This thought of food and eating only inspired the shifter to bring the straw to his lips again, engulfing the round tip of the plastic in his mouth and sucking some of the liquid from the cup. He was used to drinking this enough that he wasn't surprised when the chocolate chips from the drink shot into his mouth and almost down his throat before he had the chance to chew them. Crunching those between his teeth- that was the reason he ordered this Java Chip Frappaccino instead of the Mocha Frappuccino. He liked chewing. Everything. Drinks, yogurt, whatever the hell he ate was always chewed before it was swallowed, even if it wasn't really supposed to be chewed. Why he did this- he didn’t know. But it had become an endless habit, starting from when he was a child, all the way until now. He hated the fact he was so picky like that- after all, what kind of person sat there, chewing so dramatically- not the subtle 'chewing' most people did- while eating a yogurt? Oh yeah, him. It wasn’t as if he cared what other’s thought- he really didn’t. But the thought of chewing something with such a consistency for some off reason seemed to irk him. Which really made no sense, for he did just that. So he irked himself. Confusing, and it didn't really make much sense at all. But that was Slate for you. A confusing individual. Pushing his chair out from behind him, he slid out from the table, and headed out the very door of the coffee shop, not really feeling any desire to remain there with no one to talk to. He slid his chair back beneath the table sending a screeching noise throughout the place. Flinching himself, due to his great hearing, he still caught the glares from the people disturbed, typing away at their laptops and drinking away at their drinks. Taking this as a "you should just leave now," he headed out the door, but remained just outside of it. Taking a sip of his drink once more, chewing on the chocolate chips inside of it, he glanced around, those deep and expressive brown eyes looking for anyone worthy of talking to with his back leaning against the building's wall. ----- Words: Five Hundred Thirty Five I'm terrible at starting so I took a post I did with Slate from another site and edited/added a bunch.. and here we go :'D XD Though I may have made it worse O___O [/scrolly]

[sonny]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[atrb=background,http://i42.tinypic.com/5wk0ft.jpg] IF you took a second to ask Sonny how her day was going, the 5'4" redhead would just give you a sideways look of incredulous disbelief and roll her eyes before hustling away. From the moment she'd woken up, her alarm blaring at her that she was already half an hour late, her day had been abysmal. Her boss had more or less chewed on her like a bulldog with a bone the second she walked through the door but in all honesty that wasn't anything new. Since then she'd been running across town answering calls for strays to be picked up from quiet suburbs and made an intervention at a farm outside of town where three horses were supposedly being neglected. It was a nasty bit of business all around. The owner had been a big man that smelled like stale cigarettes and old alcohol. The horses had been locked in a barn standing nearly knee deep in their own filth and she could count all their ribs. It had been disgusting. When she'd issued the order for the animals to be removed, she'd had to take police back with her to ensure the man didn't shoot her when she had his horses loaded up and taken away. AS soon as she'd gotten back to the humane society, Golden Heart Humane Society, she'd been sent out again to an old warehouse. In the warehouse had been no less than twenty-four kittens and three momma cats all sharing quarters. Now she was thoroughly tired, her uniform pants were dusty from the old warehouse, she had a headache like no other and she was generally exhausted. Don't get her wrong, she was happy she'd done so much good before she clocked out but in all honesty she was bone tired. DRESSED in the dark blue uniform pants and button up shirt of the society, a patch on her right arm with the crest and name of the society, she stood out as she trekked toward her favorite coffee shop. Her hair, normally wavy and falling past her shoulders, was all twisted up in a messy clip at the back of her head, a few strands curling behind her ears. She had a windbreaker on over her uniform shirt with the logo of the Golden Heart Human Society emblazened on the back but otherwise looked just like every other person too tired to go home and change before running errands after work. SLIPPING into the coffee shop past a guy with tattoos all along his arm, Sonny stood in line. A line that was ridiculously slow-moving. She tried to not let it annoy her but she was tired and for once her legendary patience was a tad thin. She crossed her arms and watched someone typing on their laptop, quietly humming a Maroon 5 song while she waited. It eased her nerves and finally she was able to order. It wasn't anything fancy, just a Turtle Latte. If she was going to drive home and do all her chores at home and then go visit Aunt Samantha she'd have to have a shot of caffeine. Tossing her change into the tip jar, Sonny headed toward the glass doors. She was no less than two feet from them when a pack of college-aged kids came barreling in. Right into her. THE cup in her hand exploded when a man the size of a pro football player collided with her. Hot caramel and chocolate flavored coffee went all over and little Sonny was nearly flung to the floor, barely catching herself on a table. 'MISS? Hey are you okay? I'm so sorry!' the guy she'd run into stammered as Sonny straightened up. "I'M fine, really, it's okay," Sonny assured him, biting her lip to keep from making a sound of pain as the coffee soaked through her shirt. It felt way too similar to another burning sensation to be comfortable at all. WAVING him off as he tried to apologize again and again, Sonny snatched some napkins and gave up on the idea of a nice cup of coffee. Everybody was staring at her and it made her blush nearly as red as her hair. Shouldering past the now laughing college punks, Sonny burst out of the coffee shops, shoving the glass doors harder than necessary and plopped down on the first wrought iron chair she saw. Elbows resting on the table, Sonny held her head between her hands, brown paper napkins held in her fists. Letting out a long breath, Sonny closed her brown eyes. This day could not be happening. Raising her head after a moment with a sniff, Sonny dabbed half heartedly at the dark patch on her shirt. Tagged;; Slate Word Count;; 812 Song;; "Bad Day" by Daniel Powter Notes;; poor sonny....

[echo]

[atrb=border,0,false][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,423,true]

[atrb=background,http://i775.photobucket.com/albums/yy35/BaileeDanielle3/tables/2.png] [scrolly:h(156),w(390),sy] For a while, Slate imagined no one interesting would walk by while he waited- quite impatiently. No one worth talking to, no one worth wasting his already 'wasting' time on. One by one, the dull people walked past, going in the coffee shop, or just passing by with a few surprised and bitter glances towards him. Not that he was surprised- he looked a tad like a... what would the old people call them? A hooligan? He was dressed in a black shirt that had some weird band logo on it and hid the tattoo on his chest, with a black leather jacket slid neatly over him. Similarly colored skinny jeans adorned his legs, with brown vans covering those feet of his. Large sunglasses rested upon the bridge of his nose, blocking what little sunlight was peering through the gray clouds covering the blue sky, contrasted with the medusa piercing on his upper lip and the surprising nose piercing. Why he'd decided on these- well he hadn't decided that yet. It felt like forever, waiting for someone he felt might never appear- at least long enough for him to want a smoke. Sliding the paper carton wrapped in plastic from his jacket pocket, he tapped it on the brick wall behind him a few times to settle the tobacco inside, before popping it open with his one hand. He set his drink down on he ground beside him as he pulled the lime green lighter from his pants pocket, cupping his hand over the cigarette as he lit it. The coyote shifter took a drag of the destructive nicotine filled stick, and let out the smoke before bending down to pick up his drink, only pausing to watch someone absolutely gorgeous enter the coffee shop. She was most likely a couple inches shorter than he, with beautiful auburn locks that curled just over her chest. The girl was wearing some sort of uniform with a sort of jacket over it, though he couldn't read the logo on the back of that windbreaker as she went through those doors. And Slate didn't want to look completely creeper-ish by watching her go through the door. So he just waited for her casually, his patience stretched out a tad longer for the red-haired beauty. And it wasn't too long before she left the coffee shop, though she was without a drink- even though she smelled of one, and she looked awfully upset. Taking this as his cue, he awaited for her to take a seat in one of the wrought iron chairs, before throwing the still burning cigarette to the ground and smashing it with his shoe. Walking over slowly- not wanting to seem over eager, Slate took a seat across from her, in the chair opposite to hers. The shifter noted the dark spot on her shirt that she now was seeming trying to clean up, before he spoke. "Hey sunshine, you okay?" ----- Words: Four Hundred Ninety Eight Slate has no idea that that is pretty close to her real name XD [/scrolly]

[sonny]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[atrb=background,http://i42.tinypic.com/5wk0ft.jpg] 'HEY sunshine, you okay?' IF anybody asked later, Sonny would deny 'squeaking' when the guy's voice interrupted her miserably spiraling thoughts. She would also deny nearly jumping out of her skin. Fumbling the napkins she nearly dropped, Sonny's head snapped up to look at the person now sitting across from her. If she had been a lesser person, Sonny probably would have been somewhat intimidated by the guy. He had dark hair and big sunglasses were sitting on the bridge of his nose. A black band shirt of some kind hid under a leather jacket that looked rather expensive or at least well cared for. She couldn't see his pants or shoes with him sitting but she got the impression well enough. He looked like those guys your parents warned you away from dating, the ones rich girls dated anyway just to be 'rebels.' They'd never been Sonny's type. Too many piercings and tattoos and half the time they wore more makeup than she did. FOR a moment though, she sort of forgot that she knew how to talk and stared at him dumbly until her brain kicked itself back into gear. Sitting up a little straighter and subconsciously brushed a stray curl of red hair back behind her ear. After a second she decided she was off the clock so she reached back and pulled out the clip holding most of her flyaway hair in its messy bun at the back of her head. It tumbled down in curls and she shook it out. For some reason her hair had always made her feel more...confident. It was the one thing she really liked about herself, it always looked good or at least passable even after being scrunched up in a hastily put up bun for most of the day. Now it just tumbled down her back and made her feel less like she was on the job and more like she was actually a normal person instead of the 'animal cop' people gawked at on Animal Planet shows. "YEAH, yeah I'm good," Sonny said with a smile, brushing her hair back behind her ear and trying to look less like she'd been about to start crying from frustration and pain. "Just a little hassled I guess." CRUMPLING the napkins in a ball and tossing them into a nearby trashcan, Sonny bit her lip for a second, hesitating. If her parents hadn't already turned over in their graves at their 'baby girl' talking to a guy like this, they would be now because she held out a hand and smiled. It was a tired, shy smile but it was an honest one. "NAME'S Sonny, Sonny Stafford." MAYBE it was weird to introduce yourself to a random guy that plopped down across from you at a coffee shop but Sonny didn't know what else to do. She'd never associated with the 'rocker' guys or the guys that spent their school days smoking behind the gym or plotted how to best sneak out of class to go to a rock concert instead. He'd probably think she was a goodie goodie, which, sadly she was, but hey, at least she was a friendly goodie goodie. He'd probably just grin, get up and leave but at least nobody could say she'd been rude. No matter how bad her day had gone or how many assholes she had to put up with, Sonny was never rude. Even to a guy with a stud in his nose that looked like he'd just strutted out of some underground club. Tagged;; Slate Word Count;; 609 Song;; "Crash and Burn" by Savage Day Notes;; ^^

[echo]

[atrb=border,0,false][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,423,true]

[atrb=background,http://i775.photobucket.com/albums/yy35/BaileeDanielle3/tables/2.png] [scrolly:h(156),w(390),sy] A grin spread across that face of Slate's, his pearly whites showing nicely as a contrast against his slightly tanned skin. Swirling his drink on the table between them, sloshing the chocolatey coffee liquid, he didn't appear phased by the odd scraping noise it made. The ceased movement of the swirling indicated him to take another drink, and he did, sipping at it, now realizing the drink was almost gone. Well, that was a bummer. His four dollar drink almost drained. Poo. And it was only a small. Because he was cheap like that. Slate's attention was re-adverted to the girl in front of him, the reason he'd come over to this table in the first place. She looked dumbstruck for a few moments, as if she'd forgotten how to speak, and she was playing with her hair. Of course- that was something Slate loved about girls. When they played with their hair. It was an almost innocent behavior, as if they were nervous- definitely a turn on in the long list of such for this specific shifter. "Good to hear. What happened? Who's ass do I need to kick?" The coyote shifter held the grin from mere moments ago, the thought of kicking some random guy's ass for a pretty girl sending a thrill through his body. But all the same, he kind of hoped that wasn't the ordeal. Because- why would some asshole do this on purpose to someone like her? Maybe they'd do it to someone ugly, or one of those annoying raging sluts, but someone like this girl here did not seem all too probable for some reason. If anything- you'd wanna impress someone like little miss sunshine here. That very smile, and those words brought more of a smile than a grin to Slate's face, an eager and thoughtful one. That was ironic. Little miss sunshine's name was actually Sonny. That was too weird for words, seeing as he'd never even met her before. But a pretty lucky deduction in his opinion. With one last sip of the drink he'd downed, he tossed the cup in the trash after the napkin she'd been holding. "Nice to meet you, gorgeous." His hand reached out, shaking her's firmly, but not hard. He definitely knew how to shake hands with a lady. Make yourself seem interested- obviously, because you were, but don't seem over eager, don't squeeze, don't pull her hand towards you, keep it even and calm. And maybe pull her hand up to kiss the top of it like you were in a cheesy romance movie. And that's what Slate did, right after he said the word 'gorgeous'. "You can just call me Slate." ----- Words: Four Hundred Sixty Nine C: [/scrolly]

[sonny]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[atrb=background,http://i42.tinypic.com/5wk0ft.jpg] SONNY wasn't a business woman, far from it, but she had shaken a lot of hands in her lifetime. Strangers in church when she used to go, Aunt Samantha, teachers, other students, judges, that kind of thing. This guy had a nice handshake. His hands were rough but not overly so, the fingers strong but not holding hers painfully tight. It felt like a sure hand, one that knew what it was doing. As for the roughness, well, Sonny never really could stand guys with soft hands. It was like they'd never done any work. Even her father whom had been a teacher had had rough hands from doing around the house fixes, catching footballs with her brother and those sorts of things. Guys with soft, weak handshakes just made Sonny feel like they wouldn't be...honest? Something like that. Businessmen and salesmen that cheated and schemed for a living, those were the ones that seemed right for soft weak hands, not people that actually worked. Even her hands had a slightly roughness to them from wrestling strays and life's other hardships. A kiss on her knuckles had her smiling shyly and ducking her head. When was the last time someone had kissed her hand like a gentleman? God, she couldn't even remember. She remembered dating once or twice in high school when she lived with Aunt Samantha and then once in college. They'd been nice guys but not anything to rave about. The one in college had had a weak handshake, she should have known better. "IT was an accident, some kid just ran into me, made me drop my coffee," Sonny assured him, not too sure she wanted a brawl in front of a coffee shop. She'd never be able to come back here again, not that a random stranger would really do something like that. It was amusing though, the thought of it. A random guy just jumping up and beating the hell out of another guy just because he made her drop her coffee. That was almost enough to laugh at but Sonny managed to keep it down. He'd probably think she was crazy or something, laughing at random. GLANCING down at the ruined uniform shirt, Sonny grimaced. She'd have to throw it in the washer when she got home. Shucking off the windbreaker, Sonny unbuttoned the uniform shirt and slid it off. Under it, she wore a plain black t-shirt with a small Golden Heart logo on top left corner. Glancing at her dark uniform pants, Sonny was releaved to find she hadn't gotten much on them so she folded the shirt across her lap and sighed, putting her hands on the table. "IT'S just been one of those days when it doesn't pay to get out of bed," Sonny said with a little smile, peeking at the guy, Slate, through her eyelashes. Taking a breath she leaned back against the back of the chair and run her hands through her hair, the curls unwinding through her fingers only to recurl when she let her hands drop back to the table. "But, bad things happen in threes so I should be done for the day, I think," Sonny said with a brighter smile, her voice more chipper and more optamistic. SHE mentally crossed her fingers and prayed that her mother's old saying was right. So far she'd been late to work, had to chase hordes of sneaky kittesn for hours and had hot coffee dumped on her. She should be done for the day, unless a bus decided to jump the curb and run her down. It was possible but she really hoped mom was right. Anna Stafford, Sonny's mother, had always chided her children whenever they got to thinking one day was just going to be the worst it ever would be. She'd told them to instead count the bad things, the major ones, not the little things that happened everyday like being cut off on your drive to work. Count the waking up late, the freshman hazing or pop test worth twenty percent of your grade in your worst class. Those were big things and once you counted to three, just decide that nothing else would happen that day to make it bad. Sonny had been waiting for her third in all honesty. At least now she could use her mother's technique to feel like at least nothing else big could go wrong between now and being home. Tagged;; Slate Word Count;; 763 Song;; "Renegade" by Daughtry Notes;; ^^

[echo]

[atrb=border,0,false][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,423,true]

[atrb=background,http://i775.photobucket.com/albums/yy35/BaileeDanielle3/tables/2.png] [scrolly:h(156),w(390),sy] That shy smile and that duck of her head had Slate resisting the urge to wiggle in his seat. That look was definitely becoming of her, shy and sweet- and just because he'd kissed her knuckle. He never really ran into girls like her- they usually were kind of disgusted at the kiss on their knuckles, called him cheesy (when in fact he didn't really think he was being cheesy), or just scoffed at his attempt to be... a gentleman? Really though, he was definitely far from being such... maybe not the farthest from a gentleman ever, but definitely down there. Because he wasn't a scumbag- no way. He had some decency and he had seriously-set standards. When he was drunk, he wasn't sure if he followed them or not... but he tried his best. "Oh, well that's good that it was an accident... I was ready to kick someone's ass for real. But I am glad I'll be able to come back to this coffee shop. They have the best java chip frappuccinos." The tattooed man spoke with confidence, and no doubt, figuring she wouldn't have been banned from returning to the coffee shop. After all, Slate would be the one causing the fight and causing all the commotion. But he could see something in her eyes after she said what she did. Maybe amusement? That was amusing all in itself. She probably didn't believe him, did she? But little did she know, he was the kind of guy who'd do practically anything to impress a lady. As long as it didn't cause any embarrassment for him. He had his pride. His fingers curled around his sunglasses, pulling them off to get a brighter look at Sonny, carefully hooking one of the temple pieces in his shirt to allow the pair to hang there safely. Instead of leaning forward like most people, he leaned back into his chair, one leg going up, his right ankle resting on his left knee comfortably. He still looked thoroughly interested as she spoke, just more relaxed in what he thought was a pretty uncomfortable chair. God- the way she looked at him was absolutely gorgeous. "Yeah? Too bad we can't switch places. Because meeting you here has made my day fantastic." A cocky grin was issued at that point, his hand running through his hair with practiced precision. It looked just as great as it did before he ran that hand through it- so he obviously did that to fix his hair. Pretty simple he figured. But her stating bad things in three had him confused. In threes? Well. That'd never been the case with him. To him, bad things happened at random and just screwed you over, really. He didn't think the king or queen of bad luck- whoever controlled the kind of luck you had, counted. Too many people- right? But that was an obnoxiously silly thought- that there was even a king or queen of bad or good luck. "In threes? What'cha mean by that, babe?" ----- Words: Five Hundred Twenty Two ♥ [/scrolly]

[sonny]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[atrb=background,http://i42.tinypic.com/5wk0ft.jpg] THERE was something in Slate's casual manner that Sonny felt was oddly comforting. He might look like one of this scary as hell rocker guys that used to smoke weed in the back alleys or outside the high school of Sonny's hometown but really he wasn't so bad. The piercings, tattoos and overall dark color scheme he followed was a lot less off putting than she would have thought. Normally she expected jokers like him to be high twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week or at least buzzing with a vodka bottle in their hand but this guy seemed sane enough. It was nice to meet somebody that you could just relax around and he seemed like a good guy, not a soft-handed good guy like some Harvard-bound med student but a guy that would really get into a scrap for a girl's sake if given the right motivation. Good to know good guys still existed somewhere, guys that could brighten a girl's considerably shitty day. SONNY chose to ignore being called babe. He probably called anyone that wore a skirt babe, despite the fact that she was wearing uniform pants. She'd been called worse by the people she handled. She may not be a cop but she handled just as many greasy guys just because a neighbor got up the guts to tell someone a dog was starving to death in the back shed or something. A lot of them liked to make passes at Sonny or talk down to her by calling her babe or sweetie or hotstuff. Sonny was used to letting it slide since she would get fired if she punched someone, even if they deserved it. Plus, the day Sonny raised a hand to anybody, well, let's just say the universe would implode, the sky would split down the middle and it would start raining rubber chickens. "MY mom used to get mad when my brother and I acted like the world was coming to an end just because of a bad day at school," Sonny explained, leaning back in her own chair. "So she told us bad things happened in threes, not the little stuff but the big stuff like waking up late or getting hot coffee thrown on you. She said that once three things happened, the universe or whatever was done because you'd gotten your licks for whatever you did wrong. Once three big things happened, you were good. You'd done your time so to speak." SHE could still remember her mom standing in the kitchen, hands on her hips in a scrub top with pink angels wagging her finger at them for acting like the world was coming to an end over one little thing like a failed spelling test. Anna Stafford had been a big believer in the fact that whatever was going wrong in your life, someone else was having a worse time of it so you really had nothing to complain about. Such was the point of view of a very opinionated night shift nurse. Anna had given them the threes philosophy and ever since Sonny had remembered it whenever she failed a big test or woke up late or someone dumped a stack of forms on her desk a mile high. Three bad things and then she was good, time to pay up to karma. For some reason it just made it all the more barable, knowing you just had those three things to endure and then, after all the fuss, even if something else happened it seemed small and insignificant. "MOM was a bit of a believer in everything happening for a reason and being fair and all that," Sonny explained, hoping he wouldn't laugh about it. They may have died fifteen years ago but her parents were still a sensitive subject for Sonny. Their life lessons, the few she had really grasped by the age of eleven, were valuable even if other people didn't understand them. The whole karma, fairness, three bad things rule was something Sonny's mother had taught her kids well before she died even if it didn't make a whole lot of sense. It still brightened Sonny's bad days. Just look at her now, from chasing spry little kittens around a dirty warehouse to talking to a seemingly nice guy outside of a coffee shop. It fit Anna's saying just fine. "IT'S silly but today it was right on. Woke up late, spent most of my day in a warehouse or being threatened, got coffee thrown on me and now look at me, I've got a nice guy for company," Sonny said, gesturing with open hands to Slate when she mentioned him, a smile on her lips. "I think it fits. Three bad things and now everything's okay." Tagged;; Slate Word Count;; 811 Song;; "Pocketful of Sunshine" by Natasha Bedingfield Notes;; ^^

[echo]

[atrb=border,0,false][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,423,true]

[atrb=background,http://i775.photobucket.com/albums/yy35/BaileeDanielle3/tables/2.png] [scrolly:h(156),w(390),sy] Seeing Sonny not respond poorly to him calling her babe... that was definitely a plus, and definitely impressive. It made Slate like her even more than he originally did. For, just like before with the kiss to Sonny's hand, girls tended to get mad when he got sweet with them like that. Ever since he was younger, he had those girls in the palms of his hands. Yet, if he said babe, or got too cheesy- the non-slutty ones would usually tell him to piss off. Maybe he was just the slutty one, and they didn't like that? Ah well, that would be their loss, now wouldn't it? He thought he was pretty damn special. The only problem he ever had with females that wasn't the other's fault (at least he claimed it was never his own fault), was when he had accidentally shifted in front of one. He was home schooled by his father (his father always said he was smarter than any other teacher out there, so Slate would learn more at home), so he never really got to hang around them often or get drunk and party with others until his brother was killed and he ran away from said genius father. And when he got away? He kind of went crazy with the freedom. Parties every night, getting drunk often, sex with many... many girls. He quickly took up smoking as well for the first time, even though he knew every single chemical in the destructive cigarettes. He'd tried weed around that time as well, but never really enjoyed it as much as just getting piss drunk. He avoided shifting for a long time- for his father had made him do it often when he was still with the man. It only brought back bitter memories. But little did he realize, was that the lack of shifting was really doing quite a number on his body. His body had begun to ache, but of course, stubborn as he was, he ignored it to get drunk at a party. He was able to ignore it for the most part, but that pain kept him fairly sober throughout the night- and before he was even able to undress the girl he'd taken into another room, the pain forced him to shift. And it didn't relieve the pain, not at all. The pain was worse than his first shift, and it stuck with him in coyote form. So here he was, a yowling, writing coyote, stuck in the same room as a girl who'd seen him shift. Of course, she screamed, ran out, and tried to tell everyone. They all thought she was crazed, saying maybe her drink was spiked. That was when Slate took his chance to leave. He'd made it, but after that, he'd been extra careful to keep shifting to allow himself some proper time with girls. Well, his thoughts had gotten a bit off-track, but as he returned to the 'real world', he realized he'd just caught her starting to talk- just in time. He listened to all of it, nodding as he did, and not once did he look like he was going to laugh. He didn't think it was quite a laughing matter, but it did bring him an almost sad smile to his face. Her mother sounded great- nice, a perfect mother- though he was unsure if she was just speaking in past tense, or her mother was dead like his... It wasn't something he was comfortable questioning though, and he figured she wouldn't be quite comfortable with it either. He could only imagine that would be how his mother might have been. From what he barely remembered of her, it was everything good, sweet. He knew she had been a wonderful mother- something she'd always wanted- but that had all been ripped from her in a heartbeat. Shaking the thought from his head, he nodded again as she finished. "No, no, I don't think it's silly. I think it sounds pretty probable." Shoving those scientific thoughts from the back of his mind that were threatening to arise and try to prove her wrong, he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "It's a nice way of thinking. I mean, who wants more than three bad things to happen to them?" Another smile, though without the sadness spread across his lips. "I believe everything happens for a reason as well... your mother sounds like a smart woman." Whether those last words were too personal or not- he wasn't sure. But he figured he might be taking a risk by saying it. ----- Words: Seven Hundred Eighty Eight Muse exploded so you got a memory of Slate's! ♥ [/scrolly]

[sonny]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[atrb=background,http://i42.tinypic.com/5wk0ft.jpg] 'IT'S a nice way of thinking. I mean, who wants more than three bad things to happen to them?' WHO indeed. Sonny smiled a little. She could never remember a time when her mother's thinking hadn't been right on the money. Even when...when everything went wrong. That time, Sonny counted the bad things not in a single day but in a series of years. The first bad thing had been her parents dying. That alone was enough to cripple most eleven year olds. Not even two months after she buried her parents and moved in with her brother had Sonny discovered her shifter powers. Oh they had been a blessing and a curse but in this timeline of bad things, she counted the curse. As a dog, Sonny felt things much differently. She didn't know if this was the way it was for all shifters but it was for her. Dog emotions were so much simpler and they had such a short span. She was happy, sad, mad, anything, all in a moment. As soon as it psased, it was forgotten and forgiven. She'd adopted that thinking as a human but had reveled in the simplicity as a grieving preteen. The third bad thing had been... HER brother had put her to bed with cold medicine to fight off a sinus infection. She could remember him clicking off the light in her room as he headed off to night class at the police academy, leaving her to sleep off her illness. She still remembered saying goodnight before drifting off. She'd never suspected that when she woke up her entire hosue would be in flames with fire crawling toward her bed, smoke clogging the air and chunks of the ceiling falling on her. She'd always been a back sleeper. Not anymore. It hurt too much and she had nightmares when she did. Sonny could just barely remember crawling out of her own window and shifting into a dog to try and smother the pain. The next time she'd come around, she was in a kennel in the town vet's office as he clucked his tongue and gossiped with a tech about the 'Stafford Tragedy' as it had been dubbed. THAT'S when she'd found out he brother had not only set their house on fire on purpose but that he'd also shot himself. THANKFULLY for Sonny, Anna's advice had still rung true even from the grave. Three bad things and then it'll all be okay. Sonny had found Aunt Samantha, an elderly woman whom couldn't shift anymore because of her health. She'd taken Sonny under her wing and set up an education for her. That had been the light at the end of Sonny's tunnel in a time when she'd seldom dared to shift out of dog form just because it hurt too much. At least as a dog her saddness was muffled during the times she played with children in the park, posing as a friendly stray. Nobody asked for bad things but they happened anyway and at least she had some way to know that she could expect a silver lining to appear after everything went wrong that could possibly go wrong. 'I believe everything happens for a reason as well... your mother sounds like a smart woman.' "SHE was," Sonny said with a smile. "Hardest working woman I ever knew too. If she knew all I did for a living was chase strays and herd wandering wildlife, she'd probably click her tongue and say I'd gone soft or that I at least should go marry a lawyer." IT probably made her mother sound heartless but that wasn't true. Her dad had been a hardworking man and a good father but he hadn't been much of a hands on type. Fixing leaking sinks, rescreening windows, those little around the house jobs had always fallen to Sonny's mom. The woman couldn't stand to be still for a momet or to have idle hands. She was always baking for fixing something in the house when she wasn't sleeping to recover from a long shift. They'd never been wealthy because her mom was only a nurse and her dad only a fourth grade teacher so Anna had always hoped Sonny would marry a good guy with a sturdy high paying job. That was why they'd practically broken the bank to pay for Sonny and Jacob's education so they could compete with those wealthy guys and girls. "I'M sorry, I'm talking about me too much," Sonny said with a nervous laugh, running a hand through her curly hair again. Putting her elbows on the table and leaning forward, she interlocked her fingers and rested her chin on them. A stray lock of hair brushed her face as it escaped from behind her ear. "Tell me about you, Mr. No Last Name." Tagged;; Slate Word Count;; 838 Song;; "Simon" by Lifehouse Notes;; ^^

[echo]

[atrb=border,0,false][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,423,true]

[atrb=background,http://i775.photobucket.com/albums/yy35/BaileeDanielle3/tables/2.png] [scrolly:h(156),w(390),sy] Slate deducted by the way Sonny said was once again that, indeed, she was without a mother as well. Of course, he couldn't hold in the slight jealousy at the way she spoke about her mother though, though it wasn't visually displayed. She'd known her mother for long enough and well enough for her to speak confidently and fondly about her. She could predict things her mother would have said nowadays if she was still around. While he, had only known her a few short years. He could remember her holding him. She sang him and Tanner songs and lullabies before they fell asleep. She kissed their heads before turning out the lights and leaving the room. He had known she was sad. And he hadn't even thought he had a dad because he was never around. But that day everything went down... he'd learned why his mom was so sad. Why his dad was always gone. And everything was ripped from him in a heartbeat. "Despite that, I think she'd be proud too. I mean, you look like you're doing fairly well. That sounds like a pretty good job to me in all reality. There's a lot of animals out there that need the help. Wild or not." And by those words alone, he figured she could tell that he was an animal lover just like her. Maybe not nearly as much as her... not enough to play around with animals over partying, drinking, and smoking, but enough to truly feel a connection with them (not that he thought that was all she did). But that connection also could be because he was a shifter. Most shifters seemed to hold a connection with animals, mainly whatever animal they were, but also sometimes animals within that same genus- such as Slate- who found he had a stronger connection with canines than felines. That slightly showed as he tilted his head in an almost puppy-like fashion, that long black hair of his draping slightly over his shoulder and hanging down in a silky black waterfall. A curious look filled those brown eyes of his, in sync with that head tilt. "Oh no, no, it's quite alright gorgeous. You can talk about yourself as much as you'd like." The coyote shifter gave Sonny a smile, an honest one, but nodded when she said 'Tell me about you, Mr. No Last Name.' Of course she'd call him Mr. No Last Name. He never gave her one. He was surprised she had even said that though- not many people even mentioned that fact after he said his name. They usually just accepted the fact he didn't say it- not that she seemed like she wasn't accepting it. They just never even acknowledged it. Trying to hold in the chuckle that arose in his throat at the very thought that she did, he leaned back further in his chair so he was only resting on the back two legs of it. "Well, I guess you can say I'm a party animal. I like drinking, singing, all that good stuff, I guess." Slate pondered for a moment on what he would say next about himself, but figured he might as well mention his family somewhat as well. "I have no close family but I used to have a brother- and obviously a mother." He deliberately left out his father. "I live on my own. I'm not very interesting I suppose... I'd much rather hear about you, babe." ----- Words: Five Hundred Ninety Eight C:! [/scrolly]

[sonny]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true]

[atrb=background,http://i42.tinypic.com/5wk0ft.jpg] SONNY let herself smile a little when he admitted to being a party animal. She knew stereotypes were a bad thing, every psychology high school guidance councilor would tell you they were bad. Judging people before you knew them was wrong, blah blah blah. Sometimes though, people made a statement just because they wanted people to know. Slate might not take it that far but Sonny had always been good at reading signals. The good sense of smell didn't hurt either. He didn't stink but she could smell faint alcohol and stronger ciggarette smoke on his clothes. It wasn't enough to be repulsive, not like some of the houses she was forced to go to in order to save neglected animals but it was there. A normal human wouldn't smell it. They'd smell shampoo and whatever aftershave he used. It wasn't one Sonny recognized but that didn't mean much, she didn't exactly hang with the guys a lot. SHE'D been right though, when she'd first looked up and saw him sitting in the chair across he little cafe table. He could walk right into some warehouse turned into a club and party all night long and then some before probably getting lucky with a drunk girl and waking up with a hangover. In a way it was almost sad to be proven right. She'd never liked being drunk, the sensation in her opinion just wasn't one to get crazy about. It wasn't pleasant, it made her feel muddled and confused, too much like being oxygen-starved in her own firelit bedroom while her world tumbled down around her. Oh well. She couldn't tell anyone how to live their life and he didn't seem to be as insane as he could be about drinking. 'I have no close family but I used to have a brother- and obviously a mother.' IF Sonny had been in her retriever form, her neat folded gold ears would have perked up with interest at those words. As a human they just made her sit up just a little straighter. To anyone else it would just look like she was getting a little more comfortable in a decidedly uncomfortable metal chair. 'I used to have a brother.' Used to. Like her. For some reason Sonny's heart felt constricted and her stomach flipped a little like a nervous puppy wriggling in someone's arms. She didn't ask what had happened though. She didn't want to open that particular can of worms with a perfect stranger. She might be an open person but that particular wound...it had scarred. Scarred deep. It might have been her imagination but Sonny would have sworn she felt her scars tingling, as if they knew her train of thought. BEFORE Sonny could reply however, music interrupted her. 'And I’m doing just fine, I’m always landing on my feet in the nic of time and by the skin of my teeth. I ain’t gonna stress, cause the worst ain’t happened yet. Somethings watching over me like Sweet Serendipity, Sweet Serendipity.' Before the chorus could repeat again, Sonny's hands dove into the pocket of her windbreaker which she'd left draped over the back of her chair. Fishing the phone out of the unwilling pocket, Sonny checked the caller ID. Aunt Samantha was blazing from the screen along with the time, nearly 5:30. Crap! "SORRY, I'm running late," Sonny yelped, springing to her feet and hitting the button to answer the phone. "I Aunt Samantha, sorry, I know I'm late. No, I'm fine, really, I just had to run home and change. Yes, I'm on my way, yes I promise." Putting her hand over the mouthpiece as Aunt Samantha prattled on about how her roasted chicken was going to be stone cold by the time she got there, Sonny tried to shrug on her jacket without dropping her uniform shirt. Looking over at the out of place rocker, Sonny blashed. "I'M really sorry, I've gotta run, I'm so late it's not even funny." Balancing the phone between her cheek and her shoulder, Sonny finally wrangled her jacket on. "Yes, I'm on my way. I'll see you in a bit, love you too, bye." Dropping the phone back into her pocket, Sonny tossed her soiled uniform shirt over her arm, blushing almost as red as her hair. "Sorry to just up and run like this but if I don't move, my aunt'll jump out of the phone and come after me with her rolling pin," Sonny explained. Fishing for her keys, Sonny turned and started jogging down the sidewalk. As she pulled out her keys, a small white business card fluttered out, unnoticed by the very late Sonny. IT came to rest innocently not too far from the table. A gold heart was printed on it with the outline of a retriever's profile whited out in the middle. Arching over the heart was the words GOLDEN HEART and under the heart HUMANE SOCIETY. On the back of the card, the name Sonny Stafford. The phone and fax numbers for the society were printed under the name. Scrawled in blue ink in a half cursive woman's handwritting was the word cell with Sonny's cellphone number scrawled under it. It was a card originally intended for the neighbor of the man she'd had to visit this morning but the woman had shook her head and pushed it back. Sonny had tucked in her pocket and forgotten about it. Now it laid quietly not far from the cafe table almost expectant in nature. Tagged;; Slate Word Count;; 965 Song;; "Sweet Serendipity" by Lee Dewyze Notes;; ^^