One Small Mistake [OPEN]

[Emil Steilsson]

It was a rookie accident, it was an embarrassing accident. He had made a turn too fast on his motorcycle and slammed his shoulder into the solid side of a stone wall. It could have gone MUCH worse; really, but it was still irritatingly humiliating. The only saving grace was that it was better that it was his arm that broke and not his beloved bike or the precious cargo in his school messenger bag. Though, with the fuss the 'precious cargo' made. And the bribery Emil had to use to make it be silent as to not get found? It wasn't so precious to him when he had to fight with the ambulance people and the ER people to stay the hell out of his bag.

He rolled his eyes as the nurse tried to convince him that he HAD to wait for his mother to come get him. The boy didn't slow down at all. The second the ER was done with him and they had his information and had been paid; he was making his way for the exit. The nurse didn't want to grab onto him and risk hurting him more, but she didn't want to let him leave until his mother came to pick him up as he was still technically in her care.

Unfortunate for her, Emil was as stubborn as he was moody. Incredibly so. The nurse threw up her hands in frustration as Emil left through the front doors. He wasn't going to call his mother and leave his bike here. Yet, here came an issue... He could not actually drive his bike the way his arm was. A reflexive, irritated twitch came to his eye as he twirled his keys in his good hand.

Emil glanced around and leaned against the bike; a muffled grumble came from his messenger bag, "I'm trying, shut up."

Was Emi's hushed response. He shoved the keys into his pocket and dragged out his phone, considering caving and calling his mom. However, the stubborn refusal remained. He replaced the phone back in the pocket, pulling out the keys. He stumbled to get one leg over the bike. He would make this work. 

[Ivan M. Braginsky]

Ivan M. Braginsky Tired and worn from a life made of wallow and pain   Of what will be made is all that remains at the core TAG Emil Steilsson WORDS 600 NOTES emi are you okay... are you okay emi??? Ivan's not sure whether to be concerned or to think "wtf are you doing kiddo"

The library was finally closed. Ivan had stayed until the very last minute, despite the fact that his volunteer shift had technically ended five hours ago. If he was going to be allowed to work, he would drain them of every moment they had to spare for him. No one had the gall to complain about free help, right? It would temporary, anyway. Just until he buckled down and got a job. It was still difficult to keep on track when navigating the city. Ivan had memorised the route to and from the library back to his apartment. But he was constantly sidetracked. There were many new places, little shops nestled into the corners of neighbourhoods, and new sights to see...  As always, this evening, he ended up completely lost. ... well, maybe not completely lost. He caught sight of the hospital; that was an area he knew. He had passed this place before, and knew the way to the library from here. If he just got back to the library, he could... "... hm?" He slowed, then stopped in his path, at the edge of the narrow intersection. There was a white motorbike parked in front of the hospital. Clearly custom-made—it didn't have the fine sheen and molded precision of the machine-made models that Ivan knew well. A figure emerged from the front doors of the hospital, and Ivan instinctively stepped back into the shadows of the nearest building's doorstep. The man—boy? definitely a boy, with that build, clothing choice, and baby skin—looked agitated. Ivan watched his movements, stiff and tight with tension, as he stepped before the bike and paused. The boy had one arm slung into a cast, and a messenger bag on his shoulder... a student? Could be. The student considered his phone for a moment, then glanced back at his motorcycle. '... no.' He couldn't really be considering—with his arm like that? ... Ivan usually was not one to approach strangers. Especially during early evening, when darkness was settling around the corner and danger could be lurking anywhere. He didn't even know this kid.  But Ivan could not watch the boy with his one arm wrapped in a cast, try to climb onto his motorcycle and drive off alone. Ivan stared in suspended disbelief as the boy managed, after a bit of difficulty, to bring one leg up and to the other side of the motorbike. '... Maybe he won't do it.' Surely not. That would be completely idiotic. No one in their right mind with an injury like that would risk themselves further. And the boy couldn't expect, even if he could get onto the motorcycle, to simply cram the keys into the ignition and drive off— The student settled down and yanked his keys back out of his pocket. 'Dolboyob*!' * "Idiot" in Russian That boy was going to get himself killed. Ivan wasn't going to let him drive off and crash, hurting himself even more than he already had. Ivan swallowed. He stepped out of the doorway he had been standing in and walked, slowly, across the street and towards the student. Christ, his heart was pounding—he did not even know this boy, what was he doing? .... He was doing a good thing here. That's what he was doing. Preventing certain (and stupidity-induced) death took priority over his paranoia. Common sense screamed at Ivan to start walking faster, or at least to get the kid's attention, before he had time to take off. "Excuse me!" Ivan called out, picking up his pace to a slight jog as he approached the boy. "Young man! You, with the bag... hold on a moment!"

MADE BY VEL OF GS, WW + ADOX 2.0

[Emil Steilsson]

He was finally getting settled and prepared to start the engine. He was readily determined to take off like a bat out of hell. However, his surroundings would prove to stop him. It wasn't anything like the buildings that loomed over head. It wasn't even throngs of people as it was rather quite for being in front of a hospital. It was a singular entity. Some... Giant weirdo was coming toward him. 

Stranger danger, creeper alert, weirdo warning. So many negative things flashed through Emil's mind. However, despite the strong urge to take off for the simple fact the dork was trying to grab his attention... Emil did not start the bike. The other man had pale coloured hair, similar -though not quite the same- as his. That alone, was slightly endearing. For the time being it would be anyways. Whether it would still be after would largely depend on what inane thing the man wished to speak with him about.

Emil sighed and leaned back. To properly eye the other man; raising his 'brow in a quizical fashion. Obviously the taller man had a very short amount of time to finish walking over and explaining himself before the young Nordic's patience and focus was lost to him. Emil smacked a hand over his messanger bag, to shut something up inside. As descreetly as he could. He really should stop taking the Puffin with him; but, it was a momento of his brother. He would die before he'd let anyone take it; it comforted him to have it with him. 

Emil's gaze fell to the cement. Words would probably be a proper way to respond to the man rather than just staring like the man should hurry up and explain himself. But with Emil, words often weren't better. He had a bit of a saucy temperment with the way his words came out. Like a bristling cat. Still, he would try, "What?"

So much for not being a bundle of hissing. His word came out dry, unamused, and downright monotonous. As if he felt it was bothersome to even have to be having a discussion with a stranger. Which in all honesty, he found it quite bothersome. He wasn't exactly the most sociable of brats. Which was an unfortunate trait for such a teenager who already had weird aesthetic features to deal with.

[Ivan M. Braginsky]

Ivan M. Braginsky Tired and worn from a life made of wallow and pain   Of what will be made is all that remains at the core TAG Emil Steilsson WORDS 472 NOTES Short reply this time because I suck, RIP me

The frosty response he got was startling at first, but Ivan could not blame him. What had he expected? It was late evening, nearing complete nighttime, and anyone with their wits about them would be wary. This boy, particularly, was extremely guarded. Ivan probably should have remembered that he was horrible with words before jumping in and trying to act the good Samaritan. He should have also considered, he realised as he stood before the glowering boy, that he had forgotten he was a complete stranger. What sort of message must this send--a grown man, showing up out of nowhere and starting up a conversation? Not to mention that Ivan was about a head taller than the kid, and that he cut a far more intimidating figure. Possibilities ran through his head of just how many ways he could come off the wrong manner. He shook them off quickly. Doubt was not his friend here. ... he should just play it off lightly. Approach calmly, so that the boy had no reason to doubt his good intentions. Ivan straightened, and regarded the younger boy coolly. Keeping his gaze steady, he said, pleasantly: "Were you planning to ride that bike home? As much as I admire your courage, I do doubt the legitimacy of the idea. And the safety, as well." He had been tempted to mention straight off just how stupid that plan was and to berate the boy for even thinking of it, but he wasn't in the mood for dealing with an unpleasant teenager. He liked children, yes, but he liked younger kids. Those were, in general, more amiable and willing to take suggestions. Their attitudes always seemed to be the worst when they'd grown out of prepubescence, and this one's aggressive response did not bode well for further conversation. Kids like this, especially, had the tendency to take everything as an insult. They got defensive easily, and if he didn't tread carefully here, his response could be received with indignation and anger. Who knew what the kid would do next if Ivan accidentally pushed him too much. The one thing he knew, though, was that Ivan was not going to let him on that motorcycle again. That was just a horrible accident waiting to happen. He did notice the constant attention that the student was giving his messenger bag. His eyes did not stay on Ivan's, instead wandering to the bag and back every so often. Once, he even struck the bag, in an obvious effort to calm down whatever was inside it. Ivan could not help but wonder, and he was curious to ask just was in there. No. That wasn't a good idea at all. The only thing it would help him with was coming off even more as a prospective kidnapper. And wasn't that a happy thought.

MADE BY VEL OF GS, WW + ADOX 2.0