mccnbright

[mccnbright]

“Dammit.” Searching his pockets, he could have sworn he had grabbed the aspirin before leaving the house. But feeling nothing, he felt his mood dropping as the migraine throbbed worse with his building temper. Turning, he looked around to where he was, finding that a convenience store wasn't too far away from him. Thankfully, growing up in this hellhole of bright neon lights was easily navigated by him by now.

Taking off in a jog, he made it in about ten minutes. Hurriedly, he rushed inside the building as if he were running out of time. He only stopped rushing when he was turning a corner, only for someone to bump into him in the following moment after, “Hey?!-” Stumbling from the force of the bump, he glared, only to find a familiar face, “-Oh…It's you- Hey, Adonis-” Looking away quickly, he moved away, hurrying down the aisle, he reached out and grabbed one of the last bottles he was looking for.

“Yes!” Ira hissed under his breath before twisting and opening the bottle. A moment later, he was taking a few and putting the lid back on. Now the miserable minutes of waiting before it kicked in. Taking the bottle, he turned and moved back toward Adonis, “Just get done at that jazz club place?” He asked, rubbing one of his temples.

when: late night, sometime in june

where: downtown, not far from kitty's jazz club

with his guitar hanging from his back, he makes his way down the streets of downtown vegas. he's just gotten off his shift at the club, and he's just not ready to return home, not yet at least. he lights up a cigarette as he continues to walk, admiring the various neon lights all over the place. it's one of those things that never gets old to him. definitely makes him look like a tourist, but he doesn't mind too much.

he makes his way into a nearby convenience store, in search of some snacks and maybe another carton of smokes. he is running low, after all. stepping backwards after grabbing a bag of twizzlers, he ends up bumping into someone by accident and nearly knocks them on their ass while he's at it. shit.

"fuck, my bad!" he exclaims as he goes to steady them. "i can be oblivious sometimes, sorry about that."

@boneyardstarters

[mccnbright]

Considering her words for a moment, he smiled and looked back at her, “He did it for love. I think? It was pretty creepy though, yeah?” Baring his teeth a bit, he half-cringed at the thought. It was not the best way to present your love. But people were always weird, like that. Perhaps it could have even been called an obsession. But regardless, in the mind of a madman, the act made perfect sense to him. Even if there was no sense in it.

“Body mutilation has always been a part of our history, though. Human history is full of a lot of dark shit. Much of it in the name of love of something.” Ira didn't mind when things got dark. It was to him still worthy of artistic representation. Especially the dark parts, “I personally wouldn't do it though, ya know. I like my ears where they are. Plus, like, no one's going to kidnap my lover and make me trek across oceans to reclaim them, or somethin'.” Laughing lightly, he shrugged.

Following her look down toward her notepad, he nodded, “Well-” He thought about what he might ask. But had nothing in return, he wasn't much of an interviewer. So he just went about other questions, “You like pools? My twin and I are planning a pool party.” Pausing, he was quiet for a time. “You read the comics in the newspapers around here?”

Another giggled slipped past her mouth, hand covering the sound as she closed her eyes- Jasmine rarely these days found herself able to move past the pain and suffering that was the product of both finding out her brother was alive and that he didn't really care how much it seemed to hurt them that he just up and left. Ira was easy to talk to- this topic even more so her brain being soothed at the conversation in an almost weird way.

"I think if artist were still having to go around cutting off their ears we would have a problem." she made a face for a moment, the thought crossing her mind and the very idea making her whole body go stiff for a moment; she was soft, never much liking the idea of of pain or hurt or other's hurting themselves ( even though she would do it when she was over-stimulated )

Looking back down at her note-book seeing it filled to the brim with all the word she had gotten from the younger man, Jazz shook her head and gently shut the book before them- slipping it into a purse matching her dress all too well. "Nope! Thank you for letting me babble at you, I've really enjoyed it and even though I don't have anymore questions I don't have for you is there anything you wanna ask me? I don't wanna just poke and prod at you without it being fair game."

[mccnbright]

Ira stood patiently to one side, watching Romi with her card. He let his thoughts wander off once again. Thinking about the rivalry between their families. How it was all manufactured that way, by their own fathers. Thankfully, he could just cut ties, or, more likely the case with Augustu, walk away without the other even remotely batting a single eye in his direction. But here he stood, with a Weiss, no issue. Doing something normal. Actually, since seeing her sister earlier, he could say that it all chalked up to their fathers having tiny bits of penis envy toward one another. The kids were just pawns trapped in the middle of their will-they-won't-they love story. This thought has him almost laughing.

Turning his head, he cleared his throat and squinted his eyes into the distance, stopping the laugh from escaping. Rocking back and forth, Ira quickly looked over when she seemed to decline again. Blinking, he looked from the card to her, then toward the machine, “Ahh. Sure…” Reaching out, he takes the card from her, lifting his other hand up, thankful to having just eaten a snack bag of chips, he slides the fingers on that hand over the black strip. Then, quickly slides the card through the card reader. Only to get an error message, too, “Shit-You sure it's not just shut off?” Holding it back out to Romi he supposed it wasn't worth stealing if it was already closed off. If he were going to do that kind of thing.

Turning a little, he looked back at the car itself, “Well, depends on how far ya gotta go. See, gas guzzlers probably gonna give you maybe 'bout, a mile, maybe between that and three, depending on route, if yer just a little off from the empty.” He sighed then, looking back at her, wincing under the bright sunlight shining down on them, “You sure you can't just pay at the register?” Did the Weiss's not carry loose change, he wondered absently.

While Romi wasn't usually one to ask for help from a total stranger, she silently appreciated the guy's willingness to help her. She be nice to him. She watched as he blue into the card reader, hopefully clearing out whatever may be in there. Stepping back up to the pump, she swiped the card again, quickly, yet still, she was receiving the 'ERROR' message. Ugh. "What the fuck is wrong with this thing?" she huffed, more irritated now than she had been before. Handing over the card almost instantly, she said "Can you try the to run your finger over it? Do you mind?" She wasn't sure if this was a bad idea or not but really...did she have any other options? "I mean, like... Relatively speaking, how low can my gas tank be before...things stop working?..." Maybe she would just have to call it a day and try tomorrow--and preferably at a better gas station. She definitely felt a little helpless and she probably looked dumb as hell to this guy. But what else was she supposed to do?

[mccnbright]

When was the last time you were happy? What caused it?

“This afternoon, actually. My twin and I were just at a pool party. -Okay! It was our pool party.” He smiled and glanced away with a playful roll of his eyes, and tossed his head. “All our favorite people showed up.” Dropping his head, he tapped a pencil to his sketchpad, “We played some pool games. Stuff like that.” Lifting his other hand, he blocked his eyes from the sun as he lifted his head back up and shrugged, “Didn't really need that much of a reason. It's summer. It's hot. Pool time!”

[mccnbright]

Looking at Kenny, then toward her flicking, he puffed his face up for a moment, “You guess? Here I am. Helpin' ya choose a snack, and this is my thanks.” Ira continued playfully. Though he frowned at the questioning, glancing at that cochlear before sighing, “Unfortunately not. Well, there's Orbitz. And the old stuff.” But extra snacks worked too, “You sure? Pretty hot, at least get some water.” He opened the door and walked in, holding it for Kenny before moving on toward the snacks, “Sooo, what's your plans today?” Scanning the shelves, he grabbed some skittles off a shelf. “It's almost too hot today to do much of anything- might head back home and swim in the pool the rest of the day.”

amused with ira's initial reaction, kenny stifled laughter that gathered in the back of her throat. instead, she chose to roll her eyes and brush him off with a swift flick of her wrist. "yeah, yeah, you're alright, i guess." she could hardly conceal a grin threatening to curl in the corner of her mouth, rocking back and forth on her heels as she felt pulses of energy begin summoning her toward the freezers. "wait, what? they're out?" her brown eyes widened in horror at the revelation, reaching up and experimentally tapping her cochlear. "my processor isn't bugging, right? i can't stand tab." she huffed, a bratty glint in her gaze as she crossed her arms in frustration and tried inspiring thirst for something that wouldn't have been half as heavenly as her beloved surge. no luck. "well, i'm getting extra snacks now, so. sour and chocolate." she paused, clearing her throat. "and fruity. i get hungry when i'm mad."

[mccnbright]

[mccnbright]

When was the last time you were angry? What were you angry about? Did you get violent or pent it up? 

Thinking back, it had been a while, a couple of years to be honest. He couldn't remember it much at all. “I was mad at someone who did something stupid. But I took care of it.” Ira paused, thinking more on the subject, “Didn't have the time to get violent, though. So I'd say it's pent-up.” Shrugging, he supposed it would either fester inside of him forever, or come out in its own time, “It's been so long, I don't even care at the moment. I got other things going on.”

[mccnbright]

[mccnbright]

𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 : a roadside chapel, while the bell is broken, it tolls once at midnight. ( for dusty )

Ira frowned a little, glancing from one side to the other as he was out alone with them, at midnight. At a church. The sky at least looked nice tonight, he found himself noticing. Looking up, he watched the sky as they approached the building. Then pointed the flashlight at the bell, “Wonder what did that…” Moving over, he dropped down, taking out a small sketchbook from his pocket and a pencil, and began to draw. Looking back toward Dusty before the bell went off. Backing away, he hissed a bit as his ears rang, “Still works! In case you were wondering!” Rubbing his right ear, he cursed a bit under his breath, “Only once? Aren't they supposed to ring more than that?”

[mccnbright]

At what age do you feel that you stopped being a child and “grew up”?

“Maybe-” Ira paused, thinking about it. That was a good one. He had to grow up, at some point. No one was really paying him much mind otherwise. He grins, “I guess a while ago? Can't really say. What's the big deal with growing up, anyway? What's anyone even know 'bout being grown up? So you, like, pay taxes now and can eat ice cream whenever you want? You don't have anyone telling you it's bedtime. How's that grown-up? I didn't have anyone telling me when to go to bed when I was a kid. I got to eat icecream all the time. No one really told me what to do, either. Sooo- I guess I've been grown up this whole time!”

[mccnbright]

In what ways had someone hurt you? Who?

Frowning, there were plenty of easy targets, especially the kid who cut his ear back in grade school. He glanced up, considering a few other moments. Realizing he has never actually been hurt by others. No one really cared all that much about the quiet guy who draws. At least, almost everyone. But because he took the blame for someone else's doings, he became a target in their place. Ira blinked as his mind recalled the moment. His breathing picked up a bit as unresolved feelings rushed him. But no memories, at least no distinct memories of what happened that night, “I uh, guess someone once hit me with a car. But that's- not even that big of a deal.” Running his fingers along his scarred ear, he laughed off his unsettled feelings. As for who hurt him, he wasn't going to say.

[mccnbright]

if you've been drawing for several hours and the piece doesn't turn into anything, you didn't waste that time. you still drew. art is art, not a product

[mccnbright]

Ira just waited for her response, glancing around them before finding a discarded candy wrapper rolling by to focus on. He thought it was symbolic in a way. Then, as Romi spoke, he looked to her and gave a few nods of his head. It was not like he had just seen the older Weiss sister earlier. But a thought wormed its way into his head, making him wonder if he was that forgettable as a Vitelli. Which he wasn't going to say was a bad thing, “Yeah! No problem. I wasn't doing anything, anyway.”

At her confident response about the card not declining, he wondered if she even had money of her own, “Right, so- Sand, it gets everywhere. Sometimes it blows up into the little slot.” Ira explained/repeated as he moved toward the pump she had come from. Though he stopped and turned to watch her with her card. At her question, he grins, nodding his head quickly, “Yeah! Yeah. Just like that.” He made the motion himself, not sure if natural oils were enough to fill any minor scratches on the black strip. Waving her over, he eyed the card reader. Then blows on it, as hard as you would blow out birthday candles. Stepping away, he gestured over toward the slot, “Okay, now try? Maybe swipe fast?”

Some of the gas stations around here are shitty. Behind her dark sunglasses, she rolled her eyes and tried her best to fight the urge to say 'Obviously.' Would it kill you to be nice for fucking once? she scolded herself silently. Instead, she cleared her throat and said "Uh... Sorry to bother you but I'd really appreciate if you could help me out..." Stuck at a gas station, having to rely on a stranger was probably not the best position to be in--but she really had no choice. She'd practically run her tank down to empty--again.

When he asked if the card was getting rejected, she shook her head and said "No, I think the reader's fucked up--there's no way the card is declining." It couldn't be. It was connected to an account that had an exorbitant amount of money on it. When he suggested running her finger across it, she gave him a look of confusion. And yet, maybe it couldn't hurt... Her hands certainly weren't dirty but like anyone else, her fingertips most likely had some sort of oil on them. Shrugging, she said "Oh, what the hell?" Flipping the card over, she pointed to the strip at the top. "Run my finger over this part?" She did as he suggested, taking her thumb and swiping it over the strip twice.

[mccnbright]

Doctor Who 5x10 - Vincent and the Doctor Cunk on Life (2025)

[mccnbright]

Giving a delighted, cute little tooth-filled smile at Jasmine's giggling at his comment, he sighed, “That's the life of most artists, though, isn't it? We can pour our hearts into something. All our passion, and still be overlooked. Still be dismissed. The beauty of one's art is almost always appreciated, more after the artist is dead. It's pretty sad.” He frowned. It was even more awful when it was performative, and something that could not so lovingly be replicated in the hands of another. Only mimicked. It would never be the same as an original, just like counterfeit paintings.

Ira looked toward Jasmine, “Thankfully, we are moving passed our ear cutting off phases, more or less.” He joked playfully. Though that was true, he supposed. Most were just finding other ways to destroy themselves for their art. Secretly, or surrounded by people who just didn't notice. He was in total agreement, however, “Most of them are jealous, and want everyone to be just as miserable as they are.” Moving the pad closer, he sketched some in a blank space, some rudimentary, looking more like a stick figure than anything detailed.

“They need to find a hobby. But you can't go 'round tellin' them that.” Looking over to her again, he shrugged, “Best just to ignore 'em. Not get sucked into their black holes of joylessness and misery. For me, I like to draw caricatures of them, it's what they deserve. Mocked, ridiculed, taken down pegs. That's probably why my works are so popular, everyone hates these people, but are too scared to speak up about it. My comic strip is a bit of freedom from that restraint.” He pointed at her with his pencil, then, “All out of questions?”

Her eyes followed his for a moment, eyes following the woman's form for just a moment as she jotted down what she was wearing- commenting on the beading and feathers. How much work must have gone into sewing each piece, putting colors together and making sure it would look seem-less on stage. Looking back towards Ira, glancing down at his sketch pad for a single moment 'another form of art that people should realize is art' she pondered for another moment.

Giving a slight giggle at his comment Jasmine understood his thought process totally and completely, if she wasn't able to write the stories that she wanted too she honestly would wilt like a flower cut from its stems and left without water. She needed to write to get out her feelings about people and about this town- trying to show some good. "I understand that feeling utterly."

"Most of them are- they don't have a hobby or a talent or something they truly love so they take their bottled up rage and then take it our on everyone and everything that they possible can."