These Streets (Carter/Open)

[Michelle Belmont]

One would think that someone who was afraid of touch would avoid the marketplace, especially since it contained only stalls at which good could be purchased. It was a good thing, anyway, because if there were any actual stores, they probably would have been robbed. That was not to say, of course, that pickpockets and thieves did not lurk at the market; there were probably plenty of people willing to charm someone out of their wallet or purse. Nevertheless, the young woman steeled her nerves and walked down the street, her hips and long, pink hair swaying simultaneously as she strolled along. Despite the stifling heat of the day, she wore her long-sleeved green jacket over her white, button up blouse. The bottom half of her was probably a little cooler, since she was wearing a tan checkered skirt around her waist, ankle socks and tan loafers on her feet. In all honestly, she looked like she should have been wandering around in a high school, not a market. She barely looked her actual age of nineteen; the only thing that did not get her confused for a high schooler was her curvy shape. If she had not been so reserved, her body surely would have gotten her some unwanted attention, but, thankfully, no one in this town seemed to mind her as she wandered around aimlessly, despite the fact that she had a rectangular object poking out from under her right arm and a small pencil perched on her left ear.

She tried to keep away from the people crowded at the front of stalls. She looked a little embarrassed; it seemed to be a rather busy day that particular day, and she kept running into people. She was able to avoid knocking people over, but every time she felt something brush against her, she nearly jumped out of her skin and dropped her belongings as well as her bearings. The smile stretched across her face was quite strained as she approached an empty stall full of weaponry. Guns, bullets, and all kinds of knives lined the stall’s counter. Her sea foam green eyes settled on a Swiss Army Knife,which was bright red in color. That will teach people to stay away, she thought, scratching her cheek. She looked up to see a hand reaching out to shake hers and she let out a quiet yelp as she scurried away. She cursed herself internally for being so skittish, but she could not help herself; everything she had been through caused her to avoid physical contact with other people. The thought made her shudder and she quickened her pace, feeling beads of sweat slip down the back of her neck and gather on her forehead, due to wearing a jacket in the noon sun. She managed to find a bench in a less crowded area of the market and sat down. She moved her right arm a little and dropped the sketchpad into her lap. She reached up with her left hand and plucked the tiny pencil from behind her ear and placed it aside, opening the yellowed pages of the sketchbook.

A shudder ran through her, but she tried not to show the nervousness she was feeling internally on her face as she looked around. Many of the people standing in front of her had their back to her, which was not really ideal for her purposes. After glancing around with shy, sea foam green eyes for several minutes, she finally found a few possible subjects. There were two people standing beside a stall, one examining the merchandise and the other talking with the salesman, who looked mildly irritated. She smiled a little; the person was probably trying to haggle the price of a piece of merchandise, though she could not be sure. Regardless, the way the man’s jaw was set was a perfect subject to sketch for anger. She tried to keep steady timing between looking up at the people surrounding the least crowded stand that she could see, and the yellowed paper that she sketched on. She tried to keep her lines exactly where she had left off, and she was successful for the most part. The strained smile on her face became a small, genuine one as she swooped her pencil lightly across the page to begin sketching the woman’s hair, a piece of which hung freely right over the counter she was bending over to examine. Despite the fact that she was basically curtained by her long, straight, pink locks, she noticed a shadow fall over her page, though she did not hear footsteps to accompany a person. Maybe the market was too loud for her to hear someone approaching? Thoughts of feet aside, she looked up at the person and shrunk back a little, grimacing a little and placing her pencil down.

“U-um, may I h-help you?”

[Carter Roth]

This girl's wierd....The Lycan girl thought, trailing her through the market. It was a slow day for her, originally what led her to start following her when she noticed she was wearing a jacket of all things in this heat. Who does that? Sure, she looked preppy but even preppy people had enough common sense to not where jackets when it's so godawful hot. Carter herself was dressed in as little clothing as possible and still be considered proper: a tank top and shorts. Comfy, and most importantly, cool. It was still hot but at least her pale skin could breathe. She tilted her head when the girl yelped and ran when the vender stuck out his hand for a shake. Jumpy thing. She wasn't judging because she was wary too, but she wasn't as skittish as the other one seemed to be. Poor thing's scared of her own shadow.

But alas, her interest was piqued and so she kept tailing her. It was pretty easy, she was the only one in the market with pink hair and a jacket.  She knew she wasn't exactly hard to spot either, her own hair a pastel blue sort of color. But hey, at least it wasn't pink. When the girl sat down and started sketching, that's when she decided to make her move. She approached silently, wanting to make her jump just a little bit. She wasn't mean she was just....mischievous? Yeah that sounded right.

"I just wanted to see what you were drawing." She smiled, actually pretty friendly looking. She tried her hardest to be friendly to people until they gave her a reason not to be, even though she was a Lycan. She didn't want to be. She tried to be as human as possible. Humans had friends, and she liked making friends before she was turned. She almost tried to forget what she was times, sometimes she was able to fool herself even. But then the full moon came and it all came rushing back.

"I'm Carter, by the way." She might be more likely to talk if she knew her name, right?

[Michelle Belmont]

The young woman knew that walking around unaccompanied in a crowded place was probably not the wisest decision. It's better than walking around in the middle of the night, she thought to herself, feeling her hand twitch a little. She figured she would invest in a new knife; maybe one made of iron to ward off whatever had tried to scare the ever-loving hell out of her a few nights ago. The very thought made her shiver a little and walk faster, seeming to be more wary all of a sudden. She heard footsteps behind her, but she thought nothing of it; simply chalking it up to someone who was looking at merchandise behind her. She was too focused on trying to keep her sketchbook under her arm; she did not want to lose it, after all. It was one of the only things that had escaped that God-forsaken house without a spatter of blood. She could not say about the same about some of her clothes, sadly, but she had discarded them as quickly as she could. Thankfully, the outfit she was wearing was spotless, though it did seem inappropriate for the weather. She was not fond of letting her scars show, which was why she almost always wore long sleeves.

She became more suspicious as she heard footsteps behind her, even after she sat down. A voice coming from behind her made her yelp loudly and jump, which scattered her drawing supplies. The pencil skidded across the ground and the sketch pad landed with a loud, papery "smack" against the ground. Several people paused to stare at the pink-haired young woman before continuing on with business as usual. She scrambled off the bench to pick up her belongings and apologized profusely to the people who were walking by as she tried to grab her pencil, which was rolling away from her. She was finally able to catch it and rolled out of the way of a young couple, who had nearly stepped on her despite the brightness of her hair color. She collected her sketchbook from the ground and sat back on the bench, turning around to face the blue-haired person who had scared the crap out of her. "J-jeez! Is everyone trying to scare me here...?" she asked, letting out an exasperated sigh.

She would have been less surprised if the voice had come from in front of her, where she saw a slight shadow. She nodded politely to Carter before sighing. The couple that had nearly trampled her were her subjects. A mildly irritated expression crossed her face before she took a calming breath. She picked who she assumed to be a vendor owner. He had not moved for some time, despite people coming and going by the stand. She started by sketching his short, plump frame and eventually finished the outline before deciding that she wanted to shade a few things. She turned her pencil and started to move it faster against the paper, muttering as she did so. "Michelle. Why are you so interested in my art? It's not that great..."