what a s i g h t - * [Etta&Open]

[Sieffre De Sauveterre]

Why he had decided to come to the Cafe, of all places, was a bit of a blank for him. It wasn't because he particularly enjoyed coffee, or wanted to meet people, but once he'd come to the Island it was where he had ended up. For once he didn't have his head phones clamped over his ears but rather they were around his neck, quiet, as instead he listened to the sounds of people talking in the cafe it's self. Curled up in one of the arm chairs of the place, he kept his feet off of the cushions, one arm curled under a thick book of blank paper. The other swishing a mechanical pencil around absently, not doing anything in particular, while Sieffre spaced out in the chair. Trying to think of something to write, or draw for that matter, rather than just sitting there with his mostly untouched drink of who-knew-what-exactly.

He looked up from his hazy staring at the blank page in front of him to the people around, oddly things were pretty quiet just after the morning rush for coffee, ghosting over the faces of a couple people he vaguely knew before listlessly turning back to the paper. Still blank and mocking him slightly. For the last couple days he had felt off, almost groundless, barely able to concentrate on anything yet alone really achieve much. Some how he doubted he had done his homework properly while he'd been working on it. But once his restlessness had burned off he could always sit down and try again, and hopefully feel like he had achieved something.

Sighing softly he reached over the arm of the chair and grabbed his drink and took a sip of the now close to being cold tea. Swallowing the liquid he settled back in to the chair and glanced around the place again. He shifted in the seat, balancing on his knees to pull at the edge of his shirt and get more comfortable again. He had nothing better to do, really, so might as well just waste time pretending to get something done because he obviously wasn't going to actually be getting anything achieved.

Closing his eyes he tilted his head back against the back of the chair. Half wondering if anyone would notice some random person taking a nap in one of the chairs there. Some how he doubted anyone would really care.

[Zoe Aves]

Zoe Aves

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She enjoyed coming over to the island. It was nice to get away from the high school drama as newbies showed up and tried to grasp what the heck was happening to them. Zoe had just been given her class schedule and new room. So far, she didn't have any roomies to chat with, so she had taken the chance to hitch a ride out to the Island. Filled with humans. Mostly. It was hard to tell if that random person on the street was just another normal teenager, or a unique shifter like her. The Island was bustling with kids of all ages, the sun drawing them to the outdoors like moths to a lightbulb. Zoe wished she could just morph into her eagle and fly straight toward the warm ball of fire that spread its calming rays along her body.

She dodged a group of pubescent, gangling boys by turning into the nearest door. She had no patience to hang around and try to slip out of a very boring conversation about their many sexual escapades with girls who may or may not have HIVs or STDs. She was surprised to find that the metal handle on the glass door was cool to the touch, expecting a searing heat to flash through her palms because of the sun. "Air conditioning!" she muttered, excited, now. The June air was almost too much, but she was sort of used to too-high temperatures--she'd grown up in southern California, after all.

As she pushed the door open, Zoe noticed that the cafe was just as busy as the boardwalk outside. Stepping into line--six or seven people long, at least--she tried to see past the multitude of heads to the board above the counter. She was craving something cold with tons of chocolate. Her blue eyes locked on an item that said: "Double chocolate Mint Chip Frappuccino". "Yes!" she cheered, elated to find her favorite drink on the overhead menu. By the time she was up to the counter, she was feeling a little impatient, eager to suck down the cold beverage. The lady behind the counter paused and studied her, like she was trying to prolong getting her desired drink.

"Hi!" Zoe chirped, all smiles. "I'd like a Double Choco-Mint Frappe," she hesitated, then added, "with whipped cream." The woman chuckled to herself, maybe sensing her craving for something sweet and filled with sugar. But Zoe didn't care what she thought, or anyone else for that matter. Not right now. She just wanted her (hoover) damn frappuccino. The time seemed to drag as she watched the worker throw ice in the blender, add a crap-ton of chocolate, mint chips, powder, and liquid from a box whose name she couldn't decipher. All she could see was the contents of that blender being mixed together into one delicious concoction.

When the server finally turned around and presented her with her frappe, Zoe couldn't hardly keep still. She fumbled with her clutch, pulled out three bucks, and grabbed the ice-cold plastic cup, filled with heaven and topped with chocolate-drizzled bliss. She lifted the frappe to her lips and found out that, for all her anticipation, it wasn't what she ordered. It was close enough to the frappe she was able to buy at her hometown Starbucks, but not the same. Although, it was chocolate. She put on a smile, still a little excited. She wouldn't let a tiny disappointment ruin her day. And the longer she drank it, the better it tasted.

Her eyes roamed the cafe, both inside, then out, looking for a free seat. There were a few by the window, and one outside. She didn't want to present herself to those crazies out there and give them a chance to make fools out of themselves, so... window seat it is. Her mind's eye noticed the sleeping figure on her left once she sat in a booth, but wrote him off quickly as one who didn't want to be disturbed. He was sleeping for crying out loud! It is bad luck to wake someone who is sleeping, best to let them wake on their own.

She sat down and took another sip of her drink, grabbing for the case at her side. From it, she took out her portable laptop, setting it on the table a fair distance away from the potentially disastrous cup of coffee. The machine buzzed when she pushed the power button and wiggled the mousepad, waking it from Hibernation mode. It was easier to leave it on, as it didn't take as long for it to load than if she would have had to put it to sleep every time, then turn it on again and wait for every program and anti-spyware thing to load. Opening a document, she began to type the essay due in her English III class. Four out of a required six pages were left to do, but she had all day.

Outfit!

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[Sieffre De Sauveterre]

He wasn't sleeping, not exactly, nor was he awake either in a few moments he had drifted to that half in and half out place of sleep. There was no way that he would well and truly pass out in the middle of a crowded place, not unless he was sick or had another damn good reason to do so, his fear usually made him far to twitchy to manage sleeping in his own dorm yet alone with a bunch of strangers around. A heavy breath escaped him. While the almost sleep did wonders for the head ache that happened to be pounding at his temples. His mood was still on the sour side and he still felt less than well but maybe if he kept faking sleep it would start to change... Probably not. Which meant he should have stayed in his dorm room and slept off whatever was bothering him rather than coming to the 'Other Island' where the humans lived for some time away from the School and his two much younger dorm companions. Not that the Cafe was really doing much for his mood either.

He felt someone slide passed him and in to one of the two open seats that had been by him. The slightest of breezes on what little skin that happened to be exposed, which was basically his face, neck, and hands. His black vinyl jacket thrown over a white shirt with almost arrow-like designs on it and of course just regular black jeans and shoes. His hand twitched slightly, the one that happened to be hidden between his body and the chair, otherwise just waiting to see what this person would do. If they would leave him alone or not.

After a moment Sieffre heard the sound of someone typing, assume-ably the one who had passed by him, and for a moment he contented himself with listening to this person type. You could tell a good deal about a person based on how they typed. On if the tapping of the keys was fluid or plagued with stops. The very distinctive sound of how often the backspace button and how hard they happened to hit the keys as they typed up whatever it was. It was almost like a personal song for each person. A beat that people didn't even know was in their lives and therefore ignored the simple beauty of it. It was also sad that most of the time people didn't realize that they had a beat all of their own. Their own creation of sorts.

With another sigh he opened his eyes only to squint at the light and shift back and forth trying to get comfortable. Shifting forward he freed his trapped hand to reach out for the tea that he had. Draining what little was left of the almost disgustingly cold liquid he got up, leaving the sketch book on the seat, heading back to the counter with out so much as a glance to whoever it had been that had been typing so close to him.

Quietly as ever, and apparently engrossed in the counter while he ordered, he returned a short while later with another hot drink but this time not tea. Rather White Hot Chocolate with out whipped creme on the top. Carefully holding the cup he shifted his drawing book and settled back down. Half wondering what the chances were that his new drink would make him feel worse rather than better. But he shrugged it off and took a small sip, mentally wincing at the sweetness of the drink, before he set it down and clasping his hands in his lap. Sieffre's eyes closed for a long moment as he listened to the typing again.

He turned slightly to look at her, a bit hard when he could basically only see out of one eye, but he watched her for a moment. While Sieffre didn't know her exactly he did remember seeing her before, probably in the halls or something, but after a moment he looked away again just listening to her type again. "You... Are, ah, very rhythmic."

Sieffre didn't bother to add anything to that instead curling up on the chair and staring out the window for a long while. The hot cup of hot chocolate in his hands once more, not drinking it, but using the heat from the drink to warm up his freezing hands. Absently wondering just how crazy that statement sounded to someone who didn't know exactly which why his thoughts flowed exactly. He shifted slightly balancing the cup in one hand to fiddle with one of the longer strands of hair that served to cover most of his face. After commenting on her typing, sort of, he really had nothing else to say.

[Zoe Aves]

Zoe Aves

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Her fingers beat a tattoo on the laptop's keyboard, pausing every now and then to think, or fix a sentence that just didn't seem right. By the time she got half-way down the fifth page, Zoe was running out of B.S. to pour into it. Normally, she wouldn't have any trouble describing anything she wrote, but the paper didn't want to come too easily. She sighed, noticing the sleeping figure had stirred. Rubbing her temples to ease the headache that came from staring too long at the bright computer screen, she looked over to see him stand and walk over to the counter. He'd left an array of things behind, so she knew that he wasn't planning on leaving. A sketchbook lay on the guy's seat, but whether anything was drawn on it, she couldn't tell.

She reached out to grab her mint-chocolate frappuccino and took a small sip. The bitter coffee taste was masked by skim milk, mint chips, and the ever-delicious chocolate syrup, which made for a very enjoyable drink. Returning to her work, she meticulously finished the rest of the fifth page and began on the final one. All that was needed was her last component, and the paragraph that restated her thesis, the many components, and (yes!) the closing sentence. Then she wouldn't have to stare at the Word document for another couple days before the English teacher threw out an even longer assignment. Some days she wished she were out of the school, a wild eagle in its homeland. She didn't want to work on papers or scribble down notebooks-full of useless information. She wanted to be free from the stress, from the secrets. To disappear from the map and live like a golden eagle, defending her kills and territory.

But she couldn't become a forensic anthropologist by running away. She could always dream, and maybe take a vacation or two. She would excell in her field of work, and love every minute of it. She huffed, smiling, thinking about what her parents would say if they knew how much it would cost to put her through so many years of college in order to attain her desired job. Zoe was already taking many of the classes here, at SA, that colleges required to get graduation credits. She hoped to get her AA degree before moving off the Pacific island. Some were offered at the school, others were taken online. This girl had great abitions, and she wasn't about to let a little teenage crisis or shifting stop her from achieveing her goals. Another year at the Academy, four at a finishing college, and she'd be in the dirt, or in a lab, studying bones.

"You... Are, ah, very rhythmic."

[/s] The words made her jump. They were quiet, but unexpected, especially because of the unsociable character from which they were issued. For the most part, both had essentially ignored the other. She intent on completing her school-work, and he...well, relaxing. Zoe paused in her typing, not knowing what to say. Instead she looked at him, at his face. The cheek bones were high, almost feminine in their arches and angles. The lips rounded, but more masculine, more fitting for a male. Just in the way they were shaped, though, hinted at something less-than-manly. From what she could tell, he was thin. The brown hair on his head fell over one eye, tousled, perhaps uncombed. But the fashion right now was unkept--the just-rolled-out-of-bed-look--so he might've been keepin' with the times.

She could see no difference between his dark jeans, dark shirt, dark jacket or dark shoes. They were all a mass of black. In all, he seemed to be very young. Zoe guessed fifteen or sixteen, but rethought once she remembered his voice. It was not the timid waver of the adolescent boy, but more sure of itself, like he knew exaclty who he was. She did not remember him in her grade, nor the one below, which left only the upper in which to place him. A shadow of mascara tugged at the rim of his eyelids, hidden next to the black lashes--or was it something else? Zoe couldn't be sure, he was a little far away to tell exactly.

A whole expanse of table separated them, along with a few feet of empty walkway. "Umm, thank you?" she replied, hesitant, raising the last syllable of "you" to imply her uncertainty. "I'm almost finished if it's bothering you." He didn't look like he was about to start up a conversation. Even though the way he was positioned intended to convey the idea of how comfortable he felt, the Senior was unbelievably stiff, like he couldn't bring himself to fully relax. Was he nervous? There was nothing to be wary of, unless he was in some sort of trouble and didn't want to be found. But then he wouldn't have talked to her. Talking brought him attention, and she wouldn't have bothered him unless he'd started first.

She fingered her earring, feeling the round diamond on her tips, and the pointed gem just above it. She wore casual clothes: a navy Aeropostale tee, destroyed boot-cut jeans, and platform flip-flops. Hers weren't as has as some liked to wear, only two or three inches thick at the heal and tapering down to one-and-a-half at the toe. Zoe had seen some platform flippy-floppies that were at least four, maybe five inches tall, and straight. They didn't conform to the foot, nor did they give it arch support. She liked her style best, both for the comfort, and the added height it gave to her normal five-six. And, hidden behind the tee, was her dangling ruby belly ring. If one looked hard enough, they might be able to see the outline of it against her shirt. The Aeropostale one she wore today was skin tight on her upper body, but a little more baggy towards the waist, which, for all intents and purposes, hid the ring in the folds and creases of the material.

Word Count: 1,064

Outfit!

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