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Post by Laurette Beaumont on Aug 13, 2011 22:23:29 GMT -5
“Oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh...”
Laurette fidgeted uncomfortably as she watched people file in and out of the train. She had watched two go by just now, and this was the third one. She was so excited despite being incredibly intimidated by this. She was experiencing what these people experienced every day, just like the middle class! It was fascinating. So many people were scrabbling to get in and out, it really was just like how it is in the movies. Thing was, in the movies the main characters usually did not have as much trouble as this girl seemed to be having. The moment she had first seen the train come speeding into the station, she had freaked out a bit. It had just come so fast! She knew it was on a track, but an inner part of her panicked, convinced that at those speeds, it was coming after her and was about to hit her. As a result, she ended up jumping back and making a little fool out of herself. She had to get onto this next one, she had to! She should not let this next one go by without her on it. Oh how Daddy will be proud of her if she could actually pull this off.
“You can do it, Laurette!” the little Nyaromon in the young girl's arms cheered softly. “It's just some smelly train, you can't let that get the best of you!”
The blonde girl huffed and nodded, cheeks puffing out slightly as she worked up more and more courage. Finally, she grit her teeth just as the doors opened and darted her way inside. Or rather, she tried to. A large group of people started their way out first, leaving her to be shoved back. After she managed to recover herself, she pushed her way into the train once more. She gripped tight to a nearby pole and watched the doors slide shut. She nearly fell over when the train started moving, but was already holding onto something so managed to survive without the floor of the train scuffing up her dress. She let out a short, sharp giggle that earned her a few confused/irritated/whatever looks. She grinned down at her digimon.
“I deed eet! I am on dze trhain!”
She was used to going through the city but going into the subway and trying to get to where she wanted to go was a different story. This was gritty. Dirty. Hot as well. Personal drivers were the way to go, really, but she did not have that at the moment. What she had was an old subway train. Leroy, her personal driver, was not able to come with her from France. For one reason or another, he was not allowed to leave the country. Her father did not give her any details as to why, and neither did her driver. This however, he had stated to her, was a wonderful opportunity for her to learn some independence. Lots of people got around without someone else driving them for them all around wherever they wanted to go. She was so terribly not used to this, but still so incredibly fascinated by the way this all worked!
Her digimon peered up at her, wiggling a bit. “Do you remember where it is we were supposed to stop at?”
Laurette froze up, grip tightening slightly on the pole. “U-Um...” She could not even check her phone for the answer at the moment. It was being wonky.
Nyaromon sighed and smiled a little. “It's okay, I remember! I think.... we'll just listen for the voices!” She was not worried. Laurette was with her! If she was there then there was no need to worry. Everything would be fine.
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Post by molls on Aug 14, 2011 14:23:59 GMT -5
"Stop movin', why doncha?!" Molly O'Daae, who had been a frequent rider on the subway over the past few weeks (ever since she had made the genius discovery that jumping the turnstiles whenever the guard's back was turned meant she could essentially ride anywhere for free) was doing her best to be inconspicuous. Which was hard, when you appeared to be holding a conversation with a red canvas knapsack that had been in use roughly since her first day of school in 9th grade. A suited man had the audacity to turn and glare at the foreigner, but shied back when he noticed that the bag appeared to be writhing as well. At the next stop, he got up and left altogether - figuring perhaps he'd walk the next block to his office building rather than stay any longer next to a woman who kept some sort of animal on the public transit.
He probably wouldn't have liked to witness what happened next, anyways. "I dun like it!" Pipped up the tiny, strident voice of a three year old ready to burst into tears at any second and through the mother of all tantrums. "I dun like it, mum, it's itchy!"
"If'ya sa' still, it wouldn'a bother ya - an' doncha call me tha'!" She snapped back. Honestly, some of the time she had wished that the remainder of cash she'd gotten from her parents hadn't gone towards the hefty purchase of such a trouble-intensive little beast. Especially not when it constantly tried to make their relationship into some sort of queer inter-species adoption plan. Molly was not made out for real motherhood, and during the 'bad times' (which mostly seemed to outweigh the good in the long run) - she often contemplated packing Pagumon up in a cardboard box, duct-taping it shut and sending it back to those bigwigs at that A.I.R. company with it's little machine and a letter demanding her money back. She had asked for a companion, not a little kid. Who in their right mind would trust her with a kid?
"CannI come sit we you?" He begged, wriggling around on the woolen sweater lump she had put in there to try and muffle some of his movements and make it more comfortable. He peered at her from somewhere upside down - just mouth and eyes peeking out from where he'd - somehow - managed to entangle himself in the too-long arms of the garment.
"'n how'd ya suspec' I'can 'splain ya 'way? 'Ah, sure 'tis a ickle, monster, officer - bu's real friendly! Lives offa Twizzlers.' They'd hall me off for a loony'n no time - and you'd be back inna cage. j'you wan' tha'?"
"Nonononono!" Pagumon began his wriggling in earnest again, although his eyes had grown even wider. "Nev'mind, mum, I be good! No cage!"
"S'alright...so long s'we understan' each other." As the train slowed to a stop and the newest station, she pat the bag in what could have been construed as an attempt at a calming gesture, before riffling in a side pocket for the earphones and power switch to an ancient no-name music player. Tinny, too-loud music began to blare from the tiny ear-pieces - some tuneless rock ballad - but rather than slipping them into her ears she slid the entire played, still on - into the bag. "Jus' try'n enjoy t'ride - an' stop callin' me mum!"
There - that settled, Molly relaxed and leaned against the uncomfortable plastic seat as the train sped into motion again. More people had gotten off at the last stop, leaving a little more room than there had been previously. She shifted the bag protectively closer to her chest, and chanced a look around at some of the other passengers - and the few new faces. Social graces having never been one of her strong suits, she hardly had a problem listening in to other people's private conversations - and with Pagumon having some personal sleep-time with her music player, it was the only source of entertainment at her current disposal. Let's see...there's a business woman yelling at either her husband or her honey on the side about money issues...ooh, that'd be nasty....some boys - honestly, is that all they think about and...well, isn't that interesting.
She was pretty sure she knew the actual meaning of the prissy little girl's comment, but she just couldn't help interpreting it in the way it COULD be said. It wasn't her fault - blame it on a slow day and an even slower week, but before any little voice in her head could stop her from butting in on a private conversation apparently between a younger kid and her stuffed animal, she piped in "S' no' usually a good idea ta' be listen t'voices, ya'know. People'll tend ta ge' t'wrong conclusion." Sure, she wasn't exactly the picture of mental health herself, as far as some of the other passengers were sure to be concerned - talking to a bag. But that was moot point.
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Post by Laurette Beaumont on Aug 14, 2011 19:58:52 GMT -5
Laurette blinked. Someone spoke. They had spoken... right? No that was not speaking. She turned and stared at the person sitting in the seat. The first thing that she thought to herself was FRIZZ FRIZZY HAIR NEED HOT WATER TREATMENT PLEASE MUST GET FIXED or something along those lines. She touched at her own hair a bit, but through her glove she could not feel her reassuringly silky hair, so instead she smoothed the motion out with scratching lightly at Nyaromon.
No, this person had not spoken, though, now that she had gotten her mind back on track about this. This FRIZZ FRIZZ OH NO PLEASE person had sung to her. Her eyes widened and she gripped a little tighter at the pole with her free hand. Now a rapid thought process was going on trying to identify this person as male or female. At first glance she had simply assumed that that was a guy, but the voice seemed off and looking closer revealed somewhat feminine features. But wait, they had said...
"Whrong concluzion?" she finally responded tentatively. Despite the lovely singing, the accent catching her off-guard like that was difficult to understand at first. "But does dze voeece not help us to decide whezehr ohr not we should be getteeng off at ouhr stops? What idea am I geeveeng off dzat eez whrong?"
She yelped and nearly fell over as the train lurched on its tracks, letting out an uncomfortable squeal. She clung tightly to the pole, digging her shoes against the flooring. A female's voice chirped up from above, letting the passenger's know the next stop's name. She gave herself a moment to translate it in her head. Thanks to her pen pal, she knew Japanese though mostly the written language, she had not had much experience with the spoken until now. She glanced at Nyaromon, who stared back at Laurette for a moment before shaking her head, confirming that she should keep her hold on the pole. This was not her stop.
Laurette glanced back toward the other person, really trying to figure out their gender and feeling a bit awkward.
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Post by molls on Aug 14, 2011 22:38:33 GMT -5
Molly's smirk, which flashed a great deal of teeth and could have been considered somewhat predatory crawled lazily across her face, as her teasing of the stranger seemed to get the desired effect - confusion. Sure, it was an odd way to get a laugh - but there were distinctly worse was to entertain oneself. It was a lark - particularly when she took the time to actually focus in on the kid. Honestly - people actually looked like that? She hardly hung out with the 'princess' crowd at her school, but she had always marveled that someone would, and could actually desire to dress up like a life-sized imitation of Barbie. It made her wonder where the cellophane box she'd escaped from had gone.
But as much as she enjoyed the rise to 'bait', she couldn't help the tiny thought from rising in her self conscious that something wasn't right. Not quite, at least. And as much as she tried to continue on and shrug it off, it continued to nag at her, trying to place the abnormality. "'lax, Blondie - 'm jus' yankin' yer chain. Havin' a go. Hones'ly, though? Bes' not'be talkin' 'bout hearin' voices anywhere else - or someone's bound t'mistake ya for a dafty."
The train lurched to a stop - and unlike her conversation partner, Molly had enough sense to brace herself and her bag so that they didn't pitch forward. Seeing the blonde had had no such luck, she snickered, but made no offer to try and help her regain a semblance of balance. That'd be no fun at all. The loudspeaker crackled to life, but Molly didn't pay it any attention - she wasn't exactly interested in a particular destination anyways. By the time the message had finished though, something had clicked in her memory - and she waited only seconds until the announcer switched off before blurting out a question.
"Hell dija do tha'?" She asked. "Wit' yer voice? Ya sound comple'ly diffren'" The first time, when she'd overheard her, sounded like an entirely new person compared to how she'd answered her. Her eyes narrowed dangerous, as one explanation popped into her head. "Yer not tryin' ta make funner me, are ya?" She was under no illusion that she and her mates, as the literal fish out of water while they crashed in Odaiba, had a bit of a different sound than the home-born citizens did - and for the first couple of months, there had been many people who were all ready to point that out. Mostly by trying to attempt the lilt right back at them. It was incredibly insulting when some foreign guy made fun of the way you talked - and Molly's primary way of dealing with mockers those first few months was turning to talk with her fists.
It could have been a complete mistake - but Molly defensive shield shot up anyways. The girl sounded ridiculous - though nowhere near what some people tried to pull when taking a crack at her. And she'd heard worse botched attempts. For someone who was so keen on 'havin' a laugh' at a stranger's expense, she didn't like the idea of the tables being turned - even in theory.
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Post by Laurette Beaumont on Aug 15, 2011 1:31:41 GMT -5
Did she miss something? Laurette glanced to the side a bit, then back at the other person. She curled her lips back to smile back at her a bit, though hers looked more painful and incredibly, stupidly confused. She had no idea why they were smiling, but smiling was a good thing, right? Her smile became more real, though, as the other sang again. Oh this was so fun to hear, an Irish accent! It was warm and familiar and made her happy.
"A dafty... you mean crhazy, yes?" She giggled, pretty much hugging the pole at this point as she leaned her head slightly against it. "Well of couhrs we would not menshon heahreeng voeeces elswhehre, at least not een places dzat dzehre eez no speakehr. Dzat was what she-"
She stammered to a halt, however, when the redhead became quite suddenly aggressive. She lifted her head from the pole and shifted so that it was between her and the other. Not that that was much of a barrier. Not even a little bit of one. Literally no protection whatsoever.
"Do what, what do you mean?" Her grip tightened. "I am not makeeng fun of you, I do not know what eet eez dzat you mean."
She could feel Nyaromon's tail tighten around her neck a little bit and she glanced to the side at her. The digimon was rested on her so that her body sat on the girl's shoulder while the tail curled around her neck for balance. As a result, Laurette could very easily feel her partner tensing. Her already large eyes were wide.
"I assuhre you, my eentention weess deesaghreeng weeth you was not someseeng pehrsonal..."
((OOC: little funfact I thought I'd toss in, Laurette is actually half Irish on her mom's side =D YAY FUNFACTS slkdfjg))
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Post by molls on Aug 16, 2011 14:16:58 GMT -5
She wasn't buying the innocent act - not a bit. Once Molly had gotten something into her head, nothing would get it out. Pigheadedness - her mother had called it. Everyone else just referred to it as being an ass.
"Sure - so you jus' sud'ly develop n'accen'? 'hole new voice an' crap? I'm sorry, but ya lil' act isn't really funny. N'fact it's insultin'!" Her one arm was still curved around her bag, but the other which was free was slowly curling itself into a fist, clenching and un clenching as Molly debated whether to rectify the situation the way she would most others - and risk getting found out for train hopping - or at the very least being kicked off.
"'I d'no' khnow wha' 't eeeeeeeeeeez da' ya meeeeeeeeean!'" She mimicked the girl's own attempt at mocking her, drawing out the sounds even more and sounding utterly ridiculous. "Bull! Wha' excuse d'ya think ya can pull nex'? Ya gonna blame i' all on tha' lil' suff doll ya have? Did it spring magically ta' life and star' talkin'?"
((Woo! Random fun facts FTW!))
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Post by Laurette Beaumont on Aug 18, 2011 10:55:49 GMT -5
Laurette could not even respond at this point. This was terrible. She had felt so happy with herself, getting onto the train like everyone else without someone there to hold her hand. Independent! Like her father! So proud! But now she really really REALLY doubted that she would ever want to do this again. Were people always this angry in the transit system? She doubted she could handle someone yelling at her every time she got on the train or on a bus.
At this point, though, future transport planning was not on her mind. Her mind was a fluttery panic of half-formed words. And her throat was not doing her much good. In fact it was clenching up, causing her stammering voice to be pitched up much higher than normal.
And there came the waterworks as well.
Tears quickly blurred her vision and slid down to her lips. Crying in the middle of the subway system while hugging a pole like it was a comforting figure. How grown up.
Was it because of her accent? Did they really hate her accent this much? What trick was she playing? She never changed the way she spoke, not once. She did raise her voice slightly so the other person could hear her over the windy roar of movement around them, but that was it.
This is about when the little stuffed doll decided to indeed spring magically to life.
"Knock it off!" Nyaromon hopped a bit on Laurette's shoulder, fur bristling wildly as she moved to the other one so she could be closer to the other. Her owner was crying! This woman was to blame! Her eyes were narrowed and she kept her lips pulled back and mouth open, trying to expose teeth and seem as intimidating as possible. "Stop making her cry or I will eat you!" Which was, of course, an empty threat, but she would at least give it her damnest. She hopped up and down a bit, really having to keep herself back from flinging herself at the woman right this very minute. She really hated to see Laurette cry.
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Post by molls on Aug 19, 2011 11:49:43 GMT -5
Molly hated it whenever someone cried. Hated it. When you grew up with four brothers, you didn't cry. If you did, you got punched, or taunted - and therefore you learned never to do it again. Crying was a waste of water - it solved nothing and just made you out to be a big, blubbering waste of time and energy.
Which is why she should has suspected the girl to promptly burst into tears the moment she was faced with any sort of confrontation. She looked like a crier - don't ask her why or how she deduced it. But it didn't serve her much to make Molly feel any remorse towards her. In fact, it had almost the opposite effect. Grabbing hold of the pole so that she wouldn't go flying, Molly rose to her own meager height, swinging the back containing a slightly shaken Pagumon (although as far as she knew the little monster was by now long asleep with music blaring in the dark confines of her bag) and continued on her rant.
"Oh, s'now yer gonna cry - go 'head! See if i' helps, Miss Priss! Bu' if y'insis' n'playin' dumb, then yer still gonna have ta face th- holy shit!"
Now it was her turn to stumble, throwing one arm around the pole to keep standing while the bag jostled wildly in the other one (giving off an imperceptible giggle, followed by an equally giddy 'weee' that went unnoticed by the luggage's owner). Out of all the possible outcomes for this situation - the idea that she would be facing a talking cat-head-thing hadn't even sunk down on her radar for strange activities for the day. The fact that it would be an extremely pissed head farther still.
Not good. The little, very quite voice of reason pipped up in the back of Molly's head. Not good. Say something.
"I' was - an' i' can - i's alive - oh my go' - i' was - Holy Shit!" She repeated uselessly, staring into the angry feline eyes of the formerly lifeless stuffed animal. It seemed to be the only other thought in the forefront of her mind - pushing back any other option such as running, getting rid of whatever it was, and the actual moral high-road answer of appologizing to the weeping girl whom it was currently trying to protect.
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Post by Laurette Beaumont on Aug 19, 2011 18:40:11 GMT -5
Nyaromon puffed herself up even more, not only out of angry excitement, but pride that she had apparently startled the woman so harshly as well. Mouth still wide, she grinned slightly. "Face what?" She could feel energy tingling behind her eyes. "Bullies aren't so tough when someone actually stands up to them. Leave her alone." She let out a hiss for good measure, feeling like a big ol' toughy despite being not.
She glanced back at Laurette, who had turned away when the digimon had moved to that shoulder. Her jaw was clenched tightly and she was hiccuping softly, trying her damnest to stop crying like she was. The hiccups kept coming, though, and the tears kept brimming. No makeup was being smeared, however, as she did not wear any.
Luarette inwardly cursed the train for not stopping. They seemed to be caught in one of those longer stretches between stations. She wanted off right now. She didn't need this crap, she didn't want to argue with some random angry psycho.
She took a breath. She was a Beaumont. She was strong-hearted and did not let people step on her like this. Her father would not approve. Not at all. She lifted her head, trying to look more serious, though that was difficult since tears and hiccups still shook her, along with the reddened eyes and cheeks.
"I am not goeeng to apologize, I have done nozheeng whrong!" This was about as far as she got. Mostly because she had been about to spew out pathetic little apologies before she managed to compose herself a little. At the end of her little sentence, her voice cracked up high again and she had to stop, which was fine because she completely blanked on how to continue. Her anger quickly dissipated once more and she had to swallow the urge to apologize anyway and kill her own statement.
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Post by molls on Aug 22, 2011 21:28:40 GMT -5
So this is what a nervous breakdown is like. Molly wondered. Ha, no wonder those executive bigwig types snap and have to go on some mind-control meds - this is trippy. as. hell. Never mind why she would be having a nervous breakdown in the first place - or the fact that she hardly lead a quote unquote 'stressful life'. She was being yelled at by a stuffed animal - this was hardly a normal occurance, even for her. Seeing as whatever she did last night, even at her standards, would hardly effect her now - she was going down the list of possibilities and landed on that as the most logical explanation.
She didn't agree with the stuffed toy, though - and she was torn by answering it either with a counter-debate on how bullies, in her experience, could do whatever the hell they wanted so long as they had the guts to back it up - and screaming for all her lungs worth. Did the girl know that her toy could talk? Seeing as she was crying - and her jaw hadn't hit the floor like Molly's felt hers had - the answer was probably yes. Intelligent speech continued to evade her, but she did manage to pop out a slightly more subdued answer after swallowing air. "You...you'ra talkin' ca'...a talkin' freakin' ca'!"
And to top it all off...although it was the last thing to struggle to the forefront of her conscious when faced with a legless talking cat...she realized belatedly that the girl probably had been telling the truth. She HADN'T been making fun of her - and that ridiculous accent was...crap...probably genuine. Well, 'open mouth, insert foot' - too bad she had this little problem with apologizing.
"Oh...um...okay...yeah....soo....you're talkin' toy...um...bi' er'a mistake, tha'..." Suddenly interested more in looking in fascination at her own shoes (although part of her told her she may want to keep an eye on that bloody alien cat) she subconsciously drew the bag closer to her body as she struggled with the attempt to cover her butt. The wind drawn totally from her previously eager anger-fueled sails, she didn't even think of the possible connects between the freaky legless pet of the doll-up girl and the creature she was inclined to hold some sort of responsibility for. The one that had become newly interested in what his 'guardian' was doing with all this sudden movement.
"Mum?" It peeped questioningly, the high-pitched voice drawn out as if in the middle of a sleepy yawn. Molly's face drained of what little color had been left in it, as she slapped a hand over the 'air hole' opening of her zipper before the little grey-blue being could pop out and try to see things for itself.
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Post by Laurette Beaumont on Aug 26, 2011 22:47:52 GMT -5
If it was possible, Nyaromon seemed to puff up even bigger at this point, her ego being stroked quite a bit. She was so incredibly proud of herself for scaring this person so much, or at least knocking her so amazingly speachless without even having to really do anything. She did her best to keep herself in check, however. The human was no longer being threataning, and as much as she would love to punish her, she knew that she was not strong enough to do so at the moment. She let her mouth close to hide her teeth again but kept her eyes wide and her ears perked. She tried not to shake a little. The adrenaline had rushed to her and left her tiny body so fast.
Laurette was feeling a bit better, but not by much. She felt a vindictive happiness that the other person was so forcibly more subdued than moments ago. But with that came the ugly pang of guilt for being the cause of it.
The both of them blinks, however, when they heard a little voice, both of their thoughts came to a halt and both of their eyes slid to the bag at the woman's side.
...
Laurette let out a high-pitched noise of disbelief, immediately tensing up once more. "You keep youhr shild een a bag???"
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Post by molls on Aug 27, 2011 13:33:36 GMT -5
Karma - it truly was a bitch. Molly would question why exactly it decided to single her out - but let's face it; she knew why. Still, it couldn't have chosen a more convenient time to put her through the wringer? She really was sorry - kinda. But apparently that wasn't enough. No, she clearly needed a bigger problem to stew over - and like most problems recently, it would stem from her newfound duty to the toddler digimon.
"No, no - o'course it's no' a kid! I'm no' like tha' !" No, she would never keep an actual child in her bag - she'd leave it at home - but that was completely beside the point! "It's moruva -" Pain in the ass "- pet."
"Mum? Wassa pet?" Queered the sleepy little voice. Molly had the semblance of mind to clap her hand over the zipper opening just as she felt it press a velvety-furred head against the opening, trying to wriggle out. It didn't deter the now-awake digimon, who wriggled beneath her palm, it's voice muffled further by fabric and skin. "Mum? Issit cool? Are you meeting a pet? I wanna see it! Are you making friends, mummy!? I wanna make friend too!"
"Well train'd, righ'?" She continued to lie, struggling against the remarkably not-so-meager force of the exuberant training digimon. "Jus' like yer special to - " Wait a second...exactly like. Maybe that's what digimon all looked like when they were small - legless balls of fur. She hadn't exactly seen many other that those up for offer with the Company Pagumon came from. Christ, why hadn't she thought of it before.
"Tha' thing inna toy, issit..." [/size]
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Post by Laurette Beaumont on Aug 29, 2011 17:05:09 GMT -5
Laurette kept her hand pressed against her mouth in horror, the idea that there was a child in that bag unable to leave her mind despite the other's protests. After all, she was struggling to keep the little voice inside the bag while it piped up and called her 'mum' and 'mummy'.
"D-Dzees eez awful!" she squeaked, her voice pitched up high once more. "Stop, let dzem out!"
Nyaromon's eyes were wide, but she was not as horrified. Possibly annoyed, but mostly just surprised. She had thought she could sense something odd nearby, that was another digimon! She hopped off of Laurette's shoulder, landing on the woman's bag. She tried to (non-violently, there was no need for that anymore) push her way inside, or at least push her way into a peak at what was inside.
"It's not a kid, it's another digimon! She's like you, Laurette!" she exclaimed, gigging a bit. She was still a bit wary of the other, but now she was willing to forgive more. After all, they were kindred spirits, right? Or maybe not. But anyone with a digimon could not have been all that bad at least, right? She was, of course, unaware that digimon were being captured and purchased elsewhere.
Laurette stumbled forward, letting go of the pole despite her unsteady feet on the moving train, and tried to grab at Nyaromon. "No, Nyahro eez not a toy, she eez my companion..." Nyaromon was surprised when the girl picked her up off of the bag and was hugged against her chest. "A deegeemon? You 'ave a deegeemon like I do?"
She reached out to grab the pole once more when the train decided to jerk into one of those annoying-but-temporary mid-tunnel stops. The pole jerked away from her - at least from her perspective, it was actually her who jerked away from the pole - and she stumbled to the side. She ended up falling right against the other woman in an unfortunate way. Now she was very aware that the other person was indeed a she, if this softness against her cheek was any indication.
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Post by molls on Sept 2, 2011 20:54:30 GMT -5
"I's no'a kid!" Molly continued to insist, although if she were really to think about it - she didn't know exactly how OLD Pagumon was. Did digimon age? She hadn't exactly thought to ask for a manual about the creature when she'd purchased it on a lark a month ago. She wanted a pet - more interesting than a dog or cat or gerbil, and gotten - this. For all she knew, he was an infant - a highly intelligent, incredibly dangerous and increasingly ugly infant. But she insisted to herself that he was simply stupid. Because while many would claim that Molly HAD no conscious, she did...and it too happened to draw the line a keeping kids in bags, and DEFINITELY buying children from shady government officials that kept them locked in cages.
So busy in keeping up her denials, she didn't realize that the thing that felt vaguely like an extra-furry tennis ball brushing against the side of her hand as it pounced on her bag was the other girl's digimon until she heard the zipper give way a little more under the added weight.
"Oy - t' hell'er ya doin', gerroff me - ge' yer thing off me!"
Pagumon's itchy little hide-hole suddenly got a little brighter, and the small grey digimon found himself abruptly starring up into the keen eyes of another digimon, this one yellow green with interesting patterns that he though must have been racing stripes - that probably made it, like, super fast or something. His orange eyes opened about as wide as they could go as he rolled slightly to the side - as if taking the stranger in from an entirely different angle would help him understand the situation any better.
"Hi!" He greeted jovially, putting a great amount of spirit and energy into that short-syllable greeting. "You've come to play, right? Mum said that maybe I could play later but if you're here I can play now, right? I got toooones?!" He babbled happily, looking up from his partially sideways position, completely oblivious that this wasn't some bizarre play date set up by his mother-figure.
Who was about second away from grabbing the cat thing by the tail and handing it right back to it's owner. For God's sake, didn't the other girl see that it was attacking her?! And Pagumon?! "Don'cha touch him! Don'cha dare!" She snapped, the start of panic seeping back into her voice. "I don' really care a'th momen' tha we both have digimon's, but would'ya mind tryin' ta control yours a tou -" She was cut off abruptly as the train jerked to a hiccupy stop, and the girl - useless as she was at controlling the basic laws of travelling on a subway - made a fantastic fall directly on top of her.
"Ouch!" She shrieked, followed by a string of curses that was sure to make even some of her male band mates blush. She hadn't been expecting that - and her bottom lip had made abrupt connection with her upper teeth seconds after her and barbie's body had done the same thing. "Hold on t'the flippin' pole!" She spat, hand shooting to her mouth to stem the droplets of welling blood where she had bitten through the skin, while the other one groped blindly for the bag, which had been knocked from her grasp and onto the floor, before it - and Pagumon (and, she supposed, the other girl's creature) could go sliding across the slick floor to the opposite end of the car.
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Post by Laurette Beaumont on Sept 6, 2011 5:31:40 GMT -5
"I am sorry! I was seemply hretrheeveeng my Nyahro!" Laurette exclaimed into one of the soft lumps as she shifted her hands to push against the seat. Fighting the weakening but still strong inertia. When she finally pulled herself away from the other woman her face was beat red. Her hands flailed behind herself and missed the pole several times. Instead she ended up smacking her hip into it and nearly falling again, making a complete fool of herself. She finally grabbed onto the pole.
Nyaromon, in the meantime ended up sliding tail over ears. One moment she had been lifted by her partner, the next the world was tumbling rapidly around and around. She stopped suddenly underneath someone else's seat, the feet of a child kicking dangerously. "Laurette!" she meowed loudly. This place was unfamiliar, she did not want to be alone.
She found herself staring into the eyes of another human, one she did not recognize. It was the child who's feet had nearly cracked her on her journey to the underside of her seat. The girl had leaned forward far enough so that her head was upside-down now, staring at the also upside-down digimon. "Mommy!" the girl yelped and reached into the underside of the seat, grabbing at her prize. "Lookit, look what I found, I want!"
((If you want Pagumon to be being grabbed by the kid too it's up to you, I left it open to either or cuz I don't want to end up controlling your chars for you <XD;;; ... also I'm sorry, this is not one of my better posts orz))
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