new equipment -open-

[Rachel Itzel Black]

*****

Putting her black Jeep Wrangler into park, Rachel cut the engine pulled her keys out of the ignition. Reaching towards the passenger seat, Rachel grabbed her purse and tossed her keys into it before reaching between her legs and grabbing her cell phone. Ever since Rachel's cell phone had slid out of her purse one time when she had had to slam on the brakes, Rachel had began to drive around with her cell phone tucked safely between her thighs. She wasn't sure what had made her think of it but Rachel had decided she never wanted her cell phone to be out of reach in case of an emergency when she was driving so she kept it in the one place it wouldn't move no matter what.

With her cell phone and keys in her bag, Rachel undid her seat belt and pushed her door open before stepping out of her car and dragging her purse out behind her. Slamming her door shut, Rachel looked to the left then to the right to make sure no cars were coming before making her away across the street from her parking space. Once safely on the other side of the street, Rachel made her way to the front store of Newton's Sporting Goods and pushed open the door. She smiled at the soft tinkling of the bell that hung over the door then made her way straight to the shoes section of the store. She need new soccer cleats for the upcoming season and she also needed new running shoes. Her last pair of cleats had lasted awhile but Rachel had to buy new running shoes at least once a year since she was not only on the La Push High soccer team but also on it's track and cross country teams as well.

Making her way towards the running shoes first, Rachel walked slowly down the aisle looking at all the shoes that the shop had to offer. She knew that she could probably find a better selection of shoes up in Port Angeles but she was a firm believer in supporting ones community. The reservation didn't have any real sporting goods store so she always came out to Forks for her athletic needs.

Picking up a pair of black running shoes, Rachel began to look them over and wondered if they would be just what she needed for that season. She heard the sound of the bell tinkling to announce the arrival of another person in the store but she didn't look up since she was pretty much focused on what she was doing. When it came to finding her athletic equipment, Rachel could be fairly serious about it.

outift :: wearing

[Benedict Ace Reed]

if a picture paints a thousand words,
then your touch is worth them all

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<sup>Sport wasn’t exactly something Ace was into, not by a long shot. Of course, originally as a human, he had been bad. Horrible, awful, hang-your-head-in-shame-terrible. His body has always been too lanky, his brain unable to connect his left hand to his right foot.

But now, whatever he did looked incredible. It was like swapping shoes with someone for the day—except in this case, he never had to take them off. That perfect, good-looking and coordinated jock was him. The type who could tell a dumb joke, but the girls would act like it was the most hilarious thing they had heard. That was Ace. Perfect, handsome, somewhat pale, who had six girls under his arms purely from looks and nothing to do with personality. Which was lucky, in Ace’s case. He was never much of a sweet talker. If anything, he was a bit of a jerk, really. But wasn’t that how you got girls these days? Treat them like crap, tell them you never want to see them again, and they came crawling back, completely hopeless and defeated? It was pathetic really, the way girls treated themselves these days. They were toys, they were something pretty to look at, someone to do if you got bored. But hey, Ace wasn’t complaining. It was really just an observation, maybe there was a hint of empathy, a small, “Oh, poor sad you,” but it didn’t affect him all that much. In fact, he was fine with girls throwing themselves at his feet. Really, it didn’t get old.

The bell rang, as Ace stepped inside the rather small building, but no heads turned in his direction. Not that there was very many people there—a girl on til, arguing with some young teenager, whose body was as tense as a deer’s caught in headlights. There was an older looking man, out near the hiking equipment, who was trying to explain the different between two different styles of bags to his three year old son, who was busy trying to pull a sticky old lollipop of the ground. The girl, looking at running shoes, completely ignorant to everyone around her. Agitation, curiosity, guilt, thoughtfulness—they pushed and pulled at each other, working their way into order. Stronger emotions, more vicious emotions, they took first lead. They were louder--drums pounding on his skull, tambourines’ knocking against each other, like an ill-practised marching band. And there were quiet, pitter-patters in the background, small fingers of piano’s, a string stroking a violin. They merged together, came undone, merged together, as his brain connected each emotion to the separate bodies in the shop, like putting a puzzle back together. Like a moth drawn to light, automatically his body twisted slowly, positioning himself towards the girl down the back, eyeing off a pair of black running shoes. Of course, she’d probably never wear them—they were probably more a fashion accessory than anything else. She was too good looking to go running, anyway. Her body seemed naturally thin, but there was enough of her to give her those soft, sexy curves of every girl. Not that the ugly brown jacket was doing much for her—a black, strapless little number would do well on her. Or blue. Deep blue. The corner’s of his mouth lifted at the thought, twitching ever so slightly. No, she wouldn’t look all that bad.

Quietly, without even breathing, he positioned himself beside her, his head tilted slightly to his side, a grin stretching across his face. He stretched his body slightly, one arm resting casually on the shelf, the other hand tucked deeply into his front pocket, fingers strumming gently against his side. Like a dumb, love-struck boy. Star-gazed, love-struck, whatever word suited you the best. ‘Cause for once, quirky boy Ace didn’t have much to say. Not about running shoes. Not about sport’s stores, or miserable Forks or the stupid weather. So he just stood there, stupid and dumb, dangling the bait for her. She’s bite it, too. She wouldn’t be able to resist.

ooc// ahh, sorry it's crap. first post in two years! i hope they'll get better.</sup>

[/sup][/blockquote]

[Rachel Itzel Black]

*****

Holding a pair of black running shoes, Rachel debated on those as her eyes scanned the shelf for any other pair that caught eye. She tended to go with black or white running shoes since they went with her school uniforms and she really wasn't the type of person to wear bright colored shoes like some of her teammates. Rachel had just made the decision to go with the black pair of running shoes and was about to make her way towards the cleats when she felt a presence next to her and somebody watching her. Turning her head slowly to the side, Rachel looked at the guy who was leaning against the shelf watching and her eyebrow raised curiously. It was obvious he was looking at her but since he hadn't said anything, Rachel found herself looking around her to see if maybe he was staring at something, or someone else. With nothing around her but shoes, Rachel turned her attention back to the guy who's gaze had not wavered. Holding on to her shoes but more then ready to throw them at the guys head if he proved to be a danger to her, Rachel asked: "Can I help you with something."

Rachel had never really been the confrontational type but she knew that she couldn't just stand there and let the guy stare at her without saying something. Sure she could have just walked away and pretended nothing had happened but there was nothing to stop this guy from following her around the store if she didn't say anything and Rachel did not feel like having a stalker. True he might turn out to only be a store stalker but Rachel didn't want that either. She wanted to look around Newton's in comfort but even she knew that would be difficult now. As long as the guy was in the store she would be aware of him and her mind would continue to wonder where he was and what he was doing. Was he watching her? If he left, would he be waiting outside to follow her home? Rachel knew the thoughts were those of a paranoid person but with the guy just standing next to her and staring at her, Rachel couldn't help feeling somewhat iffy about him.

outift :: wearing

[Benedict Ace Reed]

- - - -

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Oh shit.

Note to self: no more trying to pick up any die-hard sport girls. They were stuck-up, rude little girls who are practically blind. She didn’t even notice Ace—at least, not like she should have. Any other girl, anyone in their right mind by now would have been begging him to take them home. But most people were excited by the mere sight of him—they had that ‘ohmegeee let me take a photo of you and post it on facebook!’ knee-jerk reaction. They loved him, or at least the sight of him. I mean, sure he was somewhat pale, his facial features a little bit too sharp, his smile not quite reaching his eyes, his eyes an odd colour—but he was beautiful. That strong jaw, those well-defined muscles, that smile that dazzled no matter how fake it looked. Everything about him was disturbing—and at the same time, exhilarating. He was specially adapted to be the perfect predator—handsome, aromatic, hypnotising voice. How could she ignore all of that?!

Maybe she was lesbian. Maybe it’s because she was sporty. Maybe she was into guys with tans and white teeth and muscles, with blue eyes and blonde hair. Where Ace looked like he’d been stuck inside all day playing chess. But this was just insulting. And the worst bit? She was paranoid. ‘I’m about to hit you in the head with this shoe if you talk to me’ paranoid. It was a haunting noise, paranoia. A mechanical sound, with maybe some pianos, that had such an atmosphere that his skin crawled and his body coiled defensively. And a paranoid vampire was something you didn’t want. They already knew that blood-sucking monsters and giant wolves existed, so why couldn’t Ace believe that goblins and fairies and dwarfs did too? It made perfect sense.

By now, Ace had given up. His smile had curled downwards, lips pressed tightly together, his eyes constantly looking over her shoulders, back to her face, over her shoulders. His hand pressed deeply into the shelf, so much that he could feel the metal bend underneath his fingers. He felt sick, physical sick. The piano had increased, as the girl’s eyes crawled across his face, taking in every detail and realising that it wasn’t right. His mouth tasted like blood.
“Can I help you with something?” Frank. Demanding. Where was that small giggle, that annoying swish of the hair that every other girl had in reserve for him? Where was the goggling eyes, the glances over his shoulder to smile mockingly at every other girl in the room who has dying in envy? This was ridiculous. Stuck-up minx.

Ace wasn’t used to being treated like normal. Because he wasn’t. He was spectacular. Not the type of guy you looked at and wondered if he was a creepy stalker. You instantly just knew that he wasn’t, because you understood he could get any girl he wanted. Except this annoying, curly-haired girl, with her tanned face, her curvy body, those grey eyes... And her stupid running shoes that had Ace mind-boggled. Like he knew anything about shoes. Like he needed to run to look this great. He didn’t even need to lift a finger. He didn’t have to wake up early, or get sweaty, or even buy deodorant. So score 1 Ace, none to sport-freak girl. Oh crap, back to the question. His eyes scanned past her, fixing on the notice board. ‘CHARITY RUN.’ The idea kindled in his head, and the curves of a smile touched his face.
“I was wondering if I could ask you a general question. I’m thinking of relaying some troops together, for the charity run. Just some basic training, twice a week. Is it something people of your... age, would be interested in?” Smooth, Ace. Of course, she’d say yes. Otherwise she’d be made to look bad, right? In the middle of a running shoe aisle. It made perfect sense, a general question like that. He had sport-girls down-packed now.

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Rachel Itzel Black]

*****

When Rachel heard the question she glanced back over her shoulder at the poster that she had seen a few moments earlier. Shrugging her shoulders slightly, Rachel turned her attention back to the guy in front of her and offered him an apologetic smile. The idea was appealing to her but something she knew she would never be able to be a part of and she was actually a bit sorry about it. She would love the company during her jogs but she didn't have the time to set aside specifically for another training session. Rachel's jogs got squeezed in in the morning or the afternoon depending on her schedule for the day and depending on whether or not she had practice.

"Generally speaking that's something that I think most athletes around Forks would be interested in but unfortunately it's not something that I would be able to do. One I'm not from Forks and I just don't have the time to drive down from the rez for training sessions. Two I'm on my school's cross country team and we have practices three days a week that generally last at least a couple of hours. And three, with my mother gone I'm the one who makes dinner for my father, brother and sister. Add into that that I still have to make time for homework and I barely have any time to hang out with friends." Rachel said as smiled up at the guy. She had to admit that she was a bit surprised at how busy she really was. She knew that she had a lot of things going on in her life but until she'd said them all out loud like that it hadn't really hit her. It wouldn't ease up either since once the cross country season ended for her high school, she would move right into soccer then after that came track. With another shrug of her shoulders Rachel said: "The idea is a great idea though. Have you tried approaching some of the athletes from Forks High. You could probably get a few of them to agree to train with you."

Rachel knew that she could easily lighten her load if she were to just ask her dad, brother and sister to take care of themselves but in a weird way taking care of her family made her feel closer to her mother. Her mother had always been the one to make their meals and to pick up the house, so now Rachel did that. True she never touched her siblings rooms or her father's rooms, but the public rooms were Rachel's to take care of her. Sure her family helped out and tried to pick up after themselves so that Rachel didn't have as much to do but Rachel could usually be found every other week dusting and really cleaning up.

outift :: wearing

[Benedict Ace Reed]

- - - -

[/color][/center]

She was so... dull.

This was going nowhere. By now, he’d normally have already left with the girl, heading somewhere else, to do things that weren’t so down-right boring. But this girl, ‘whatshername’ wasn’t the slightest bit interested. It was like talking to a brick wall—they were just batting questions back and forth, with no real idea where it would lead them. No, actually, that was a lie. He was batting the questions. She was just talking. A lot. About things that didn’t particularly matter. He’d ask a simple question, a dull, uninteresting question (maybe that was his mistake) and now he was listening to her rant on about her life. About how much it sucked. About how busy and miserable her life was, running from one sport to the next, with no social life, cooking tea for a family of three. All things he didn’t honestly care about. In fact, his ideal conversation went more like this. “Take me home,” “If you insist...” And that was it. Enough talking, time for business.

This girl was completely unaware of the game.

The emotions that came from her were monotonous also. The small ‘buzz’ of violins that projected her surprise as she recollected her life for him. The thump of palms against drums as mental exhaustion climbed through, as she dawned on how much she did. They were customary. Boring, dull, uninteresting, monotonous, droning, repetitive. They were nothing. The idea to leave floated in and out of his head, tempting him into giving up. But she was hot. At least, for a human. Those curls, those grey eyes, that curvy body... Hadn’t he already mentioned all these things? “ The idea is a great idea though. Have you tried approaching some of the athletes from Forks High? You could probably get a few of them to agree to train with you." Blah, blah, blah. As if he cared about running. She droned on, whilst Ace continued to picture her half-naked. She’d probably only be something to look at, really. He couldn’t imagine her actually being exciting. Not if she wore ugly jackets like that.

So it was onto plan B. If he couldn’t charm her into it, he’d trap her into it. Make her feel vulnerable, weak. Like getting with Ace was the only action she would ever get. She would literally crawl for him, beg for him. She’d quit the soccer team, so that she could spend the rest of her time stalking him. Lots of girls did that. Maybe not for Ace, but they did it on movies and TV series. He nodded his head dumbly, in reply to her question, a grimace forming on his face like that was the most stupidest idea ever. Then his eyes travelled across her face, scrunching in disgust. “You have dandruff. That’s kinda... gross. You should probably wear a hat,” His shoulders shrugged, in a ‘poor you’ kind of way. Honestly, she didn’t have dandruff that badly. There were a few dots, so tiny that only Ace’s eyes and a microscope could pick up. But it made no difference. This was just part of a plan. Make her want him. Obviously, it would work.

Relaxed, he leant against the shelf of the store, arms crossing in front of you in the perfect picture of ‘cool’. Burgundy eyes looked down at her from his nose, but the warmth of a smile still lingered on his lips. “You know what? I should probably get your name, as a reference and such. But you said you didn’t really have many friends, didn’t you? Hmph, maybe a few people might know you... I don’t know. But I’ll get your number while I’m at it. Maybe you might decide to show up,”

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Rachel Itzel Black]

*****

Rachel's eyes widened as her jaw dropped and she stared at the guy in front of her. Had he just told her that she had dandruff and it was gross. More out of reflex then actually caring what the guy said, Rachel let her eyes quickly travel to her shoulder before turning her attention back to the male in front of her. There was definitely something wrong with the man and he seemed to be looking for a fight since her glance at her shoulder had told her that she didn't have any white flakes that she could see. She could feel her temper flare up at the insult and as he continued to talk about her not having any friends her anger only grew. She knew she couldn't exactly fight with the guy since that wasn't who she was but she wasn't about to let him get away with insulting her either. Who did he think he was?!

"Now see I might have given you my name and number before had you asked for it but seeing as you seem to find me so gross as you so elegantly, there's no reason to give it to you now." Rachel said with an obviously fake expression of sympathy crossing her features. In a voice that was so sugary sweet and obviously reserved for talking to children, or in this case, somebody she thought was acting like a child Rachel added: "But why don't you try telling some other girl how gross she is then asking her for her name and number. Maybe she'll look past those bags under your eyes that are big enough to carry home groceries for a family of ten and actually fall for that sorry attempt at a pick up line."

Rolling her eyes, Rachel looked up at into the guys eyes again before freezing. Finally noticing what color his eyes were, Rachel's mind flashed to the stories of the cold ones that her people told and for a moment a flash of fear washed over her before she mentally scolded herself. The cold ones were nothing more then stories her people told, just like the stories they told about members of their tribe being able to change into wolves. Like every Native American tribe, the Quileute's had their own stories and that's what Rachel believed they were. Nothing more then stories. There was no way they could be true. She had to be imagining things.

"Now if you'll excuse me. I have some things that I need to get." Rachel said as she tucked the box of running shoes under her arm and turned to head towards the cleats which were a couple aisles over. She probably could have brushed past the stranger but after his insult about her having dandruff then not having any friends, Rachel did not want to touch him. Although she knew it was childish, Rachel didn't even try to stop herself as she walked away and muttered under breath: "Arrogant bastard."

outift :: wearing

[Benedict Ace Reed]

- - - -

[/color][/center]

Now this was something at least.

His weight rocked back onto his heels, body rippling with anticipation. He could feel the surprise, like the high-pitched ring of the triangle, flow through his body. His body grew tight, like trying to contain something so much bigger then himself, as those seductive grey eyes widened in surprise. Her jaw slackened, looking for the words that wouldn’t come. He could also read her thoughts—repeating what he had just said, trying to understood if she had heard him correct. He doubted somebody had ever been so rude, or so frank, to someone like herself (super-model material, that was.). Her head glanced to the side, her eyes failing to connect with any dandruff. And then her temper flew. Then her emotions really begun to mount—through all his defences, in an effort to be less affected by this on-coming mood swing, her anger broke through. His hands curled into fists, safe from her view underneath his arms. His jaw tightened, lips pulling into a stretched line, as her anger grew. Anger, from what he had experienced, tasted like a mixture of blood and bile, depending on the person. It was a drum, a thundering roar, like the final march into war. It was a common emotion that came in different stages—frustration, irritation, rage. He had became quite adapt at finding a name for each tiny shift of music had created chaos in his head. It depended on the tempo, how loud it was and more importantly, how his body reacted to it. It was more a skill then a gift, a weakness more than a blessing. Rarely had it ever come in handy. He was so skilful in picking up tiny shifts in body language that the orchestra in his head was completely and utterly useless.

It didn’t mean the band mister left though.

Her voice was smothered in that motherly voice, as she talked to him like a child. Like he was the stupid one, the less superior. The irony of being teased by his prey caused a grin to cross his face. His eyes were grocery bags? That was a little low. At least she could fix her dandruff. He was stuck like this, for the rest of eternity. But it just looked like he was a bit of a party boy, right? Gave him a bit of a rough-boy edge, that more mysterious look. It grabbed attention, in a good way he reassured himself. Better than having dandruff. Or being human. There was a sudden shift in her emotions, like she has almost read his mind. She was afraid. Her eyes had locked onto his, frozen, and he could see her almost debating over the thought of running. She had noticed something wrong. Maybe his contacts had started to burn through? His eyes perhaps a little bit more ruby red now then brown. He blinked, scratched his elbow a little bit, shifted weight onto his other foot. Anything to appear normal. And it seemed enough to reassure her, for the time being. So she continued with her rant. "Now if you'll excuse me. I have some things that I need to get." So she was sticking around. That’s the first thing he got out of that sentence. It was almost playing cat and mouse—she wanted him to chase her. He grinned, his head nodding, informing her he had received her secret-coded message.

She tucked her box up under her arm, spinning on her heel. He waited a few seconds, trying not to seem to desperate. Not that he was. Oh god no. It was just that... well; she seemed to be proving a bit of an issue. An issue he’d rather not have, but was too deep into now to give up. “Arrogant bastard,” By then, he had already forgotten he was trying to play it low-key. His body moved rapidly, racing down the other aisle and turning back up the one she was heading down, before she had even planted her foot. He walked casually around the corner, a mischievous grin crossing his face. Like a Cheshire cat, toying with a mouse. “Arrogant bastard? I don’t think you’re in the best position to judge me. But tell me, this is a lot more exciting, isn’t it? No more of that boring chit-chat about running.” His voice was warm, friendly almost. Casually, he stepped forward to close the gap between them, a pale hand reaching hold to shake hers. “We’ll start again. The name’s Ace. I’m new to town. I’m from Australia originally, you might have guessed, so I’m not normally this pale,” He chuckled slightly, his head shaking somewhat. “And you are?”


ooc// sorry, muse is dead!

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Rachel Itzel Black]

*****

"I don't know who he thinks he is. Telling me I have dandruff when I know that I don't." Rachel thought as she made her way down the aisle. Part of her wanted to throw something at his head both because he had made that comment about her but also because of the recent thought that had passed through her mind. She had convinced herself that she was just overreacting and that the stories about the cold ones were nothing more then just stories but she still wanted to confirm he was human just to make herself feel better. Then again it wasn't like she could just ask him to let her cut him with a knife or let her do something else to prove he wasn't dead. A normal human being would think that she was nuts and probably call for help. She knew she would if she were approached by a stranger who asked her to let them cut her open to prove she was human.

Stepping into the cleats aisle, Rachel looked up to see the guy already in the aisle making his way towards her. Rolling her eyes slightly in agitation, Rachel wanted to tell the guy to go away. She had already tried to be subtle about the whole thing and had told him she had things she had to do but obviously this guy hadn't taken the hint. He apparently was going to follow her around the since she had rejected him and when he began to speak again she wanted to just tell him to save it. You only got one chance at a first impression and while he had started out ok with his first impression, telling her that she had dandruff and that she was a nobody had completely ruined it. Rachel didn't want anything to do with this guy anymore but she couldn't really tell him flat out that she wanted nothing to do with him. Sure she could be blunt at times as well but it wasn't in her to be rude.

"Actually the boring chit chat about running was far more interesting to me then your later comment." Rachel said before the guy was introducing himself. When he told her his name Rachel internally smirked and wanted to laugh out loud at the revelation. His name was Ace? That only confirmed her suspicion that he had been offended by her turning him down so that was why he had made the comments he had about her. With a name like Ace he probably assumed he was God's gift to women and her brushing him off probably hadn't sat well with him.

"I'm Rachel and I was born and raised out here although I don't live in town." Rachel said as she hoped that this would deter the guy from wanting to meet up with her again or do anything else of the sort. Of course Rachel was not about to tell this guy where she lived since the truth of the matter was she just didn't want to. For all she knew he was a stalker who would follow her home and she really wasn't in the mood for that. She really wanted him to just leave her alone but she didn't have any idea how she was going to accomplish that without coming across as a bitch. While Rachel prided herself on her tact, telling this guy that she had other things to do had been her subtle way of getting rid of him. Obviously, it hadn't worked.

"I hope you like Forks. It's nothing like Australia though so you'll have fun trying to adjust to the clouds and rain." Rachel said. Then again it wasn't like Rachel had ever been to Australia so she had no clue what the weather was like out there. Of course she assumed they probably had their own rain storms from time to time but she didn't think they had the near constant cloud coverage that Forks did.

outift :: wearing
sorry the post sucks. my muse isn't cooperating right now. :: notes

[Benedict Ace Reed]

- - - -

[/color][/center]

This wasn’t getting anywhere. Not even close.

Small waves of irritation rolled off her, accomplished by the small spikes of her bitter amusement, at the mention of his name. She thought it was funny? He couldn’t put a thumb on her, couldn’t work out how she still remained immune to all his charms and good-looks. He was so used to girls’ mouths hanging slack, their heads nodding dumbly, almost in agreement with his name. So why did her eyebrows raise unconsciously, her lips drawing upwards in a vicious smile for the smallest of seconds? Why was he the one trying; well practically throwing himself at her; in order to impress her? This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. It was like a rat devouring a crocodile—it was unnatural. She wasn’t right, he concluded. She was a mutant.

He breathed a sigh of relief, glad that it wasn’t his fault then.

Of course, there was still a small irritation, a buzz in the back of his mind, that wouldn’t accept that she was some freak show. Apart from the fact she seemed to like running, she seemed fine. She looked human, she was as ungraceful as a human, she smelt like human... right? The third one hooked him. He breathed in her scent, nostrils flaring for a split second, before it crumbled in repulsion. That wasn’t normal. There was that normal, sick smell of a human—sickly sweet smell of toothpaste, pungent deodorant, of old socks—but there was also another smell, one that caught in the back of his throat. Almost like... wet dog. But when he inhaled again, it was gone. It had passed. Perhaps someone had just walked a dog past the front store? His head turned, browny-red eyes with bags big enough for the groceries of ten people, searching through the sheets of rains that continued outside. He couldn’t see no dogs. Something unnerved him. Something told him to fight. But his feet stayed rooted, head turning back to her with a charming, friendly smile. She didn’t seem all that suspicious though, and the boring words fell out of her mouth. "I'm Rachel and I was born and raised out here although I don't live in town. I hope you like Forks. It's nothing like Australia though so you'll have fun trying to adjust to the clouds and rain."

At her comment, Ace’s eyes rolled lazily, head tilting sideways to the constant downpour outside. Of course though, it wasn’t that much of a bother to him. The rain seemed almost to rebound off him, in a way that suggest he wasn’t quite as soft as he seemed. Pit-pat, pit-pat, almost like a tin roof. But in saying that, the sun did not affect him either, it did not warm his bones at the slightest. And as much as he loved his home, it was the same. The dry, dusty outback had been replaced with houses, rows after rows. The old worn-down roads had been replaced by shiny new bitumen, where people rushed from one-side to the other. His old home, the old pub, had been demolished, to make way for a petrol station. Everything that he had once called home was gone, and returning to Australia only familiarised him with the absence in his chest, the deep-longing he’d spent centuries trying to forget. No, Forks wasn’t like Australia. And it had nothing to do with the rain.

The edge of his mouth twitched into something that resembled a flat smile. He blinked. He forced his chest to expand, then concave. His weight shifted into his other foot. All these little things, these little acts, were part of some disguise. They felt unnatural, alien. Perhaps it was because he never really had to think about it, not when he was human. But they never managed to feel familiar. The idea that once he had relied on these small actions, that his life had depended on them, seemed absurd. Did that mean he was dead? It was such a strange thought, after all these years. Rachel’s blood pulsed through her neck, he could see her chest flicker, her ribcage expand. How vulnerable, how truly fragile she was. “Rachel,” he said, head nodding, as if condemning it to memory. But he wouldn’t forget, he couldn’t forget. It was such a twisted, ugly world.

The flicker of a smile crossed his lips, like a boy about to do something to get in trouble. His head tilted innocently, as he relaxed his back into the shelf, arms folding against his chest. “I thought there was a huge gang-war between those from the Reservation, and those from Forks?” She’d mentioned before she was from the reservation, or in her words, the ‘rez’. It had finally sunk in what she had meant. “Are you crossing sides, Rachel? Am I going to have to dob you in? It’s fine, I do have those handcuffs in the back of the car...” A grin, more charming then anything. His voice was thick, flirting, but more hypnotising then anything. The smooth roll of his words, the unusual accent—oh god, he was even driving himself crazy. Surely she couldn’t keep fighting against him? Perhaps she was into handcuffs and all those things. There was quite an odd lot of people around these days.

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Rachel Itzel Black]

*****

Damn! Had she told him where she was from?! Thinking back to their earlier conversation Rachel remembered telling him she couldn't meet up because the drive was too long from her house to Forks and as she remembered telling him that she was from the rez she internally sighed in agitation. Damn her luck. She would unintentionally give away where she lived to somebody that she didn't want to know where where she lived. She had to smirk at his comment about the war between Forks and the people on the reservation. What he didn't know was that while there may have been some rivalry between the two schools, the real was wasn't between the people of Forks and the Quileutes. The war was between her people and the cold ones. As far as she knew there were only three people who were alleged to be cold ones in Forks and the Cullen's were a family that her people kept a close eye on. Then again if her fleeting fear were true, the man in front of her could very well be a cold one as well. Pushing the thought out of her mind and telling herself there was not such things as cold ones she looked up at Ace and smirked at his comment.

"Keep your handcuffs to yourself. I prefer to be able to use my hands." Rachel said, her smirk still firmly in place as she knew the double meaning her words could be misunderstood to mean. With the grin on his lips it was obvious what Ace was hinting at what the handcuffs could be used for. Despite her quick comeback, Rachel wondered what Ace would say if he ever found out that despite her quick retort, Rachel had only ever had sex once. Rachel was good at the sexual innuendos but as far as physical sexual relations, Rachel was probably as inexperienced as a virgin. Her first time hadn't been that great in her mind and she had been hesitant about taking on other lovers because of it. Then again Ace had commented on her dandruff and on her lack of popularity. For all she knew, although he may have made a comment that could be taken as being sexual, he may not have been interested in her in that way in the least.

"If you're intent on using those handcuffs thought maybe I can find you a girl or two who don't mind having their hands incapacitated. I'll even be careful to pick girls who don't have dandruff and who are extremely popular." Rachel said her smirk still in place as she intentionally attempted to remind Ace of his earlier comments. She knew that she would more then likely remember those comments he'd made for the rest of her life and while she might eventually get over them if Ace apologized, she knew that she would never forget them. Part of her still wanted to slap him for those comments but while she might be capable of being snippy when she was pushed into it, she had never been capable of getting physically violent with anybody. She may have wanted to slap Ace, but she knew that she would never be able to do it.

Turning to her right, Rachel pulled out a pair of cleats and looked them over. They were simple black which was what she wanted and they were her size. Taking the box she moved over to a nearby stool and removed her right boot before pulling out the right cleat. Pulling it on she found that it fit fine although the opening was a bit loose around her ankles. She smiled as she thought about her shin guards and how they would fit perfectly in the new shoes. Deciding these would be the shoes she took, Rachel pulled off her cleats then pulled on her boot before getting to her feet again.

outift :: wearing
sorry the post sucks. my muse isn't cooperating right now. :: notes

[Benedict Ace Reed]

- - - -

[/color][/center]

Was she... flirting with him?

Maybe if he was still human, the idea would have knocked him off his feet, would have brought him to his knees. Maybe, if he was still human, he would have felt that tightening of anticipation right in the pit of his stomach, the giddiness in his knees from disbelief. Instead, all he had was his imagination, trying to envisage exactly how his body should have reacted. Sometimes, it felt like his mind was the only thing still alive—that all the things he did was purely in his head. He ran fast, because his body was no longer able to tell him ‘no.’ He was able to jump three stories because nobody doubted him. He had no limits, other than the ones he set himself. And as exhilarating as it was, there was a part of him that was still wary. That grew more cautious, every time he came up with another out-of-this-world theory. When did this stop? When did his body stop taking orders from his mind? When did he lose control of everything? Surely something as good as this had a use-by-date.

Rachel was flirting with him. It sunk in again, rippling through his mind, like tiny bubbles breaking through the surface. Why did it surprise him so? He was the undead—what could possibly be sexier than that? Maybe cause he had to actually try—initially, that had been the first surprise. That she had fallen to her knees in one gangly motion had had him back-tracking already. So when she did finally gave, why on earth did it make him feel so alive, like he had finally done something in his life. Because for the first-time, he didn’t get everything he asked for? Was that really all it was? These questions spun themselves around his head, strung together like a spider web, but his face remained as relaxed and carefree as anything. “Keep your handcuffs to yourself. I prefer to use my hands,” That smirk, the tone of her voice... He felt like punching the air with his fist. There you go, that’s what a bit of determination can do for you. It could go a long way, you know... A grin still lined his face, and absent-mindedly, he stepped closer, closing the gap between them. He wouldn’t mind knowing what exactly she was planning on doing with those hands...

"If you're intent on using those handcuffs thought maybe I can find you a girl or two who don't mind having their hands incapacitated. I'll even be careful to pick girls who don't have dandruff and who are extremely popular." Oh. She was trying to back him feel bad, wasn’t she? It passed straight over his head. Like he was going to apologise for that. If he hadn’t taken that step, they’d still be discussing running tactics and the sort. And they would both leave feeling completely unsatisfied and bored shitless. His shoulders shrugged indifferently, his eyes rolling in a way that suggested he was just laughing along with her joke. Once again, he took a step forward, head dipping down to be closer to hers. “I don’t know anymore. I’m curious to see what exactly it is that you want to do with those hands...” His voice was husky, seductive. He wasn’t being shy. Not at all.

Then with one last smirk, she was gone, breaking away from him. She turned to her right, glancing over the available shoe-things, before deciding on a pair. Black, again, just like her running shoes. Wasn’t black underwear supposed to mean that a girl wanted to have sex? What on earth did black shoes mean then? Was this a subtle hint, or was she just blowing him off? He remained standing, arms folding over his chest, his head tilted to the side as he watched her try them on. Perfect? She admired them, a small, satisfied smile breaking across her face, before she pulled her ugly, brown boots back on. He didn’t really like brown. He stepped forward, offering a cold, pale hand to help her upright. Now, only a smile remained on his face, more gentleman then anything. “I’m buying you lunch,”

ooc/ ughh, crappy. soryr about that.

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Rachel Itzel Black]

*****

Although a part of Rachel wanted to blush when Ace said he was curios as to what she could do with her hands, the young Quileuete managed to keep herself composed. Surprised when he offered his hand to get to her feet, Rachel stood in front of him as he told her he was going to buy her lunch. Like she was about to go somewhere with somebody that she not only didn't know, but with somebody who had insulted the way he had. Smirking as she took her hand back, Rachel looked up to lock eyes with the man in front of her. She had always hated turning people down since she knew that rejection wasn't the easiest thing and in most cases it took a lot of courage for a guy to ask a girl out period. However Ace didn't look like he lacked courage of any sort and actually looked as if he expected her to say yes which helped to alleviate some of the guilt she was feeling.

"I've actually got to head to the store and run a few more errands before I head home to start getting things ready for dinner tonight. I suppose if you like you're more then welcome to join me on my errands through town." Rachel said as she adjusted her boxes under her arms. She still didn't trust the man in front of her but like she had done with a couple other guys who had asked her out that she didn't want to go out with, Rachel offered up an alternative. Part of her wondered if Ace had ever been turned down by any girl in his life and as she looked up into his eyes she waited on his reaction. Would he be offended that she hadn't jumped at the chance to go on a date with him. She knew there were a few guys in her school who would get angry if a girl turned them down although none of them got violent. She hoped that Ace wasn't the type of guy who got violent when he didn't get what he wanted.

outift :: wearing
have to start getting ready for work.
sorry it's so short. :: notes

[Benedict Ace Reed]

- - - -

[/color][/center]

Ace wasn’t used to rejection. Perhaps in his human life, it had been common—actually, he had no doubts that he had been—but lately, everything just naturally went his way. Or unnaturally, depending on your point of view. But how long had vampires been around? Were they something that had involved over time, a predator adapting to its environment through evolutionary time; or were they something that had always been there, unseen by books and records? He wondered, aimlessly, if someone had ever bothered to try and find out. Or like he, had all the rest of his type been busy living it up? Had they all remained ignorant to their past, taking only blind stabs in the dark like he was? The idea of looking into it himself passed through his head, swiftly, before being completely removed. Nah. Too much effort.

Rachel’s hand was quickly removed from his, as she found her own feet. She stood her own ground, her eyes locking with his, an impossible, unmoveable structure. She was... stubborn, he realised. She was independent and strong-willed. The sort of person who didn’t seem to have to rely on anyone but herself, who based decisions based on what she thought was best. She had character, a sense of ‘fight.’ Based on the three minutes he had spent talking to her, of course. So it was really no surprise when she turned him down. She hadn’t even said a word yet, and he knew. His head felt thick, foggy, underneath the smoggy waves of her guilt. There was something caught in the back of his throat, something he couldn’t quite swallow, something that wouldn’t sit right. There was a single, low drone of a horn, so deep and disarming it made him dizzy. And then there were her words, her voice still strong against the onslaught of the music in his head. "I've actually got to head to the store and run a few more errands before I head home to start getting things ready for dinner tonight. I suppose if you like you're more than welcome to join me on my errands through town." He didn’t pause. His weight shifted back onto the heels of his feet, pale cold hands returning to his sides. It didn’t affect him, he realised. It didn’t even make him think twice.

His head nodded, small smile still there, in its own way, still begging for her. The idea of giving up hadn’t even surfaced to his head. He wasn’t used to not getting his way, and he wouldn’t settle for the alternative. “Sounds fantastic. Looks like you’re cooking me tea tonight,” The same old traditional grin. His voice was hypnotising, dark brown eyes holding hers in place. She had grey eyes, he realised, somewhat surprised. Very pretty grey eyes.

ooc! short posts are contagious! haha.

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Rachel Itzel Black]

*****

"You drink tea?!" Rachel asked, the surprise evident in her voice as she stared at the guy in front of her. She had never known any guy who drank tea, especially not a guy like Ace. It had been her experience that the well muscled attractive guys drank alcohol of some kind and if by some miracle they didn't then they drank soda or water. She had rarely ever seen a guy drink any juice but even that was something she had seen. A man drinking tea was like something out of a story book and even then it would have been out of a story like Pride and Prejudice or Sense and Sensibility where the setting was in the England of long ago. It made her wonder if present day Englishmen drank tea on a daily basis which brought her back to her present. Staring at Ace in disbelief for a few seconds, Rachel couldn't get past the fact that he drank tea. After a few seconds however she felt guilty about staring and at her uncontrolled outburst so found herself blushing slightly as she quickly added: "And you don't cook tea. You prepare tea, or boil tea but you don't cook it."

Rachel knew it was a random statement but she felt a bit bad about letting her surprise get the better of her. She hadn't had any sudden outbursts like that in a while but rather then let it get to her, Rachel turned and headed towards the counter. She shouldn't have made that outburst and her second comment just made her seem snobby. Like she was trying to prove that she was better then Ace or something which she wasn't. She had just needed something to cover up her outburst and unfortunately her second one hadn't been any better then her first one.

After paying for her shoes, Rachel stepped out of Newton's not really expecting Ace to follow her. Walking towards her car she opened the back door and tossed her shoes into the backseat. Slamming the door shut she turned to find Ace still with her and a small smile formed on her lips. The man hadn't made the best first impression but he was slowly beginning to redeem himself in her eyes. Obviously she would never forget the things he'd said but she knew that she was going to have to move past them. It just wasn't in Rachel to hold a grudge and if he was trying so hard to be her friend then the least she could do would be to give him a second chance.

"So are you going to go to the grocery store with me?" Rachel asked somewhat surprised since she really hadn't expected Ace to take her up on her offer. Not many guys enjoyed shopping, let alone shopping for groceries. They tended to leave that to the women to do. The only men Rachel had ever seen shopping for groceries were single fathers and the occasional single man. It seemed most single men she knew went out to eat or ordered in. She didn't think many went shopping in a grocery store to get the things they needed.

outift :: wearing
evil short posts lol :: notes