Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
Add Reply
Cherokee [solomon]
Topic Started: Jun 30 2013, 06:51 PM (53 Views)
Lynn
Newborn
ooc; la la la this took me stupidly long to write im sorry

Somehow, by the very grace of God himself, it seemed that things would calm down in Blackwater—at least for a little while. It had been a good handful of days since any kind of drama had gone down and the doctor can’t help but be thankful. In the last four years she had learned very quickly to expect the unexpected upon entry into the house. No one could predict when there would be sudden magic wreaking destruction of the cabin, or whether there would have been a wolf fight on the property, or worse yet, inside. The quiet has become much appreciated by Evelynn, and she hopes to return to the cabin for more peace and quiet now that she has the opportunity to leave the hospital.

Dr. Black makes her walk brisk through the emergency room—a familiar routine where she used every method that she knew to avoid being asked any more questions or to help any more nurses. When one student nurse gets an expression that seems hopeful enough to gain attention, Lynn quickly shuts her down with the shake of her head. She had already worked three hours past her shift—enough is enough. It feels like paradise when she’s finally able to swipe her badge and punch out of work, and even better when she sees her car waiting for her in the lounge parking lot. “Going home, baby.” she mutters to herself, sweeping her fingertips along the hood of the car. After a long thirteen hour shift, it’s already hitting 6:00 PM and Lynn knows that if she wants to check up on everyone at the cabin, she’ll have to get moving.

The drive home seems as normal as it ever could have been, The sky darkens with the passing time and Lynn finds herself yawning every few minutes or so… That is, until her car starts to slow down against her will. Slower, slower, slower, and soon to a complete stop at the ride of the road. “God damn it. Because this is not how she intended for her night to go. The new Cadillac had never let her down before, and it seems to be a shame that it would decide to do so now. The first and most reasonable option is to call Sabra.

Except there’s no service, and when Lynn tries to call, she only hears beeping.

So the doctor gives up. She had seen many women on the side of the road before, looking under the hoods of their cars as if they had a clue what was happening—and 90% of the time, they didn’t—but Lynn knows better than to even waste her time with it. But she does have something else she can do: Read. She could do that very well.

There’s a cardiology book that rests nearly untouched in the back seat, and Lynn reaches in the back to collect it before she opens the door, slams it shut in irritation, and lifts herself to sit on the hood of the car and read. It’s not necessarily helpful and it would not get her anywhere any time soon, but it’s better than doing nothing. She could think of a better solution later.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Solomon
Member Avatar
Newborn
These are the days that aren't nice on any working soul.

Fingers darkened from days and years of having oil, grease, and every other fluid a car can take had worked endlessly on a farm pickup: a blue GMC that had seen better days and was caked with mud, manure and everything else you could find on the farm. The truck had come in only requiring a slight tweaking, a bit of tune up. Mondays though tend to never go as planned and right before his steel eyes he was forced to watch the truck practically fall to scrap metal in his fingers. Something would be fixed and another two things would break or he would find something new broken. Integrity is a valued sentiment so charging a man triple what he had gone in for had been tough to do. A call that was a tough one ended with cursing but an okay along with Solomon left with a challenge. The piece of shit gleamed like a good farm pickup but fell apart like cheap rusted trash.

Monday had been spent underneath a pickup. Hours had drained by with hands hurting, shoulders throbbing. They had done their best. Time had been sucked up and at this point he was wondering if he should quit, tell the small farm owner it was time to start looking at the shiny chrome in the car lot. Something had kept him going, an endless drive to succeed that pushed past pain and defeat. Solomon has always seemed chill but never laid claims on not feeling annoyance. It throbs in his soul, a defiant frustration. As sweat runs down his face and collects in a black beard the face goes red. It bothers him to a point and alone, without prying, judging eyes he is free to release some of that emotion.

He punches a wall of his garage before the man clocks out early. He is too wrapped up in the dying truck's last calls that the shifter was aware he was going nowhere fast. Another hour, another minute spent in that garage would throw him into a blind fury which isn't worth it. Life's too short to be hitting walls over trucks. The mechanic can't let the news go unheard and plans to call the owner once he has managed to get home when his temper has cooled to the temperature of ice.

Driving was a quick way to escape. The large bodied man had pries himself into his pickup, dirty head to toe in grease. Booking it down the highway on the trip home has been rushed but nerves fritter out and fingers slowly loosen their grip on the wheel. Large, calloused fingers crank up the radio to a familiar channel that plays strings in his heart. Kansas blares over the radio singing about carrying on. Putting him back into ease is easy. Solomon is a man who must abandon a situation and approach it after a night of fresh sleep. Anger has long since past when that old pickup truck drives along the road, barely slowing down in time at a fancy car in the middle of the road.

A narrow miss is made by a quick shift into the next lane for a speedy pass. He's angry at himself for not paying closer attention, just like he's angry at himself for letting the truck go to hell. But that doesn't disguise that someone is stopped in the middle of a highway, a small highway that is not very busy but a highway nonetheless. He blazes by, going a few miles over the speed limit like any fool itching to get home but he slows down as much as he can without slamming the brakes, eyes catching a fancy car and a woman- and it's gone. Eyes flicker back to the road as a puzzled expression pulls on his face.

No, he didn't see a woman in the middle of the road on the hood of her car. He couldn't have possibly seen a woman in the middle of the road. But the lion is sure he has. It isn't a few minutes before he's making an illegal U-turn out of worry. Sitting in the middle of the road in any street was dangerous much less for a lady who looks rather small. He is a beast in form but a chivalrous man at heart. Broken down cars are his specialty and a person in need tends to always tug at his soul. Finally he drives up next to the woman, his windows already down from the lack of air conditioning.

An arm is hanging out the window as he looks at her. There's an awkward pause as the dirty face stares at her, trying to pick the correct words. Dirty lips finally pull what they want to speak as he slowly, methodically starts, "Ma'm, you need help?" Solomon realizes just how dirty he is as he tries to wipe off some the dirt from his face to show he is actually human… somewhat. "I'm a mechanic," he adds on slowly using as little words as possible. He almost seems dumb, slow in the mind but he is far from it. The car lover plays the brute without brains well though there is some logic there. Smells from the oil and grease block out most of the odor but up close and personal he is having second doubts.


Werewolves are too common here.

Hard to smell it, but it is definitely there. Being small-bodied hides it well in an unexpected way but there is no denying it. Solomon has no problems fixing the cars of the not quite human but the werewolves tend to here have their crazy ordeals and he doesn't usually get involved. They've never bothered the shifter and his left well-to-do repair shop alone so he hasn't been quick to jump. He lives the lifestyle which he won't bite unless forced, and even with a few bites and scratches he's not always prone to pounce. Messing with werewolves is something a lion would rather avoid but leaving a stranded woman, hell the smallest woman he's ever seen, alone in the middle of the highway is something he can't bring himself to do.

A name is important too .

"I'm Solomon," he offers. Eyes drift to his mirror and though he can't see a car coming, he's nervous sitting in the middle of the road. Thick fingers come over to adjust the side mirror of the truck closest to him before gray eyes drift back to Lynn. "Ma'm, we should getcha off the the road."

Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
ZetaBoards - Free Forum Hosting
Create a free forum in seconds.
Learn More · Register Now
« Previous Topic · Blackwater · Next Topic »
Add Reply