Aimless Wanderings [Open]

[joseph]

[OOC: Whoever intends on joining, please note: This thread is going to explore Joseph’s more inner character and his feelings, both harsh and sentimental. However, I don’t really have anything particular planned out, so no need to be shy! I know you’re bored too!]

Joseph had been walking around in the city almost every night now, and he would have thought that after each night spent out on the streets that he would have found something to do. Only, there didn’t seem to be a thing. Tonight he’d been in a suburb on the outskirts of the city kicking pumpkins off of people’s front porches. A few people had scolded him after catching him in the act of smashing a couple of them, but they were easily enough ignored. He would never understand why people got so distressed over a smashed orange gourd after Halloween. After all, it was past the holiday and rotting already anyway.

Now he was back in the city, walking the streets again. The annoying holiday season was coming up, or was apparently already upon us according to the decorated lamp posts. Wreathes hung from each one in a supposedly festive way, but he loathed them, and he hated this time of year. This time of year meant presents and love and sharing and all those things that he despised, or to be truthful, had never had. It wasn’t exactly his fault either, for the way he turned out was more how he was raised.

His bitterness and anger were most likely ingrained in his personality forever, though he was fairly good at concealing his emotions when he felt like it. The majority of the time Joseph didn’t want to talk to anyone, so it was easy to stay away from others and also easy to avoid a whole lot of confrontation. Which wasn’t to say that there wasn’t any. On the contrary, he clashed with nearly every person he met.

And now he had eternity, so long as he didn’t do anything completely stupid. It was still difficult to wrap his mind around that, even though it had seemed like nothing at the time. Had he not been so incredibly out of it when he had made the choice to be turned, perhaps he would have favored the death that had been so very near at the time. It was a constant train of thought swirling around in his head, maybe fueling the fire of self-hatred in him, though he would never admit that to anyone.

The loud blaring of a horn woke him from his drifting thoughts as he narrowly avoided walking straight into an oncoming traffic lane. The loud honking of the horn seemed very far away to him at first, and now he understood the purpose of it as he jumped back out of the road. A few people gave him odd looks as they waited to cross the street, but he remained totally oblivious to their stares and mutterings. This was how Joseph usually was; withdrawn and indifferent to the world around him.

Many people asked him if he had planned to live his life like this forever, and he had always replied, ‘why not?’. Joseph was best at observing, not interacting. Whenever he interacted he screwed things up, and in all honesty, he didn’t know how to interact. Growing up he had been around negative influences, therefore he was more prone to follow their examples and become a negative person. He was morally wrong with many of the things he chose to do, and generally he was lost to the world.

The sign across the street blinked from orange to white and Joseph moved almost mechanically, walking with the others across the street, unaware of his destination. Some people veered left, and some veered right, but he followed those who walked left, staring blankly at the blinking lights, oblivious to them in most ways.

Deciding he’d had enough of walking aimlessly, he took the next door he came to and opened it. A blast of rock music came streaming out as he walked in, carded at the door. Joseph wasn’t 21. In fact, he was only 19, but he had made himself a decent fake ID, and it seemed to pass every test out there. A few teenagers were dancing to the music being performed in the back corner by three men. Besides the small crowd of people listening to the band, he was the only one in there. So he walked up to the bar and took a seat at one of the stools, waving off the bartender.

One girl, a particularly drunk one with a low cut tee wobbled over to him, what she hoped was a seductive smile was plastered to her pink lips. Joseph didn’t really know what it was, but there had never been a girl who had caught his fancy in his lifetime. Every single one of his friends had had a girl they’d been crazy over, excluding him. It certainly wasn’t because he wasn’t interested in girls. He thought perhaps it was more that he was afraid of them. They reminded him of big traps to fall into, or a huge spider web to get tangled up in. Not all the ‘love’ in the world could undo the hurt you would feel if you fell into a woman’s ensnarement. So this might be why he avoided the topic of ever wanting a love interest.

The girl got about two feet from him, and he was thankful the only person who could see his expression of shock was the bartender. Joseph might as well have been shocked by an electric wire as the girl spun his stool around and snaked her arms into his jacket so she could wrap them around his torso. He blanched, nearly falling off his stool as he tried to scramble back and away from the drunken girl. “Get off girl,” he muttered, trying to somehow shake her off without actually touching her.

Her grip was like a zombie woman’s, her brown eyes staring up at him all glazed over. He must have looked like an idiot trying to wriggle free of her when he could just grab her hands and squeeze and viola, no more hands! Joseph had no idea why he was her target suddenly. She wasn’t super pretty, but she wasn’t unattractive, so he couldn’t understand why she couldn’t find another guy to harass, maybe someone she actually knew!

This was why women terrified him.

[Charles]

There were many people within the world as a whole who had gotten off easy with life. They were born and given unconditional love. They were accepted and optimism was around them the entirety of their life with patient family members and friends. Life was easy for them with having the necessities to learn, grow and survive out there within the wild world. Then there were those like him.

There were only so few people who understood what life was under the burden of pessimism and negative light. It's truly nothing easy to undertake or trudge through to say the least. Even decades later Charles lingers with the effects of what his father had poured unto him. Violence can change a man but even moreso a boy within his more impressionable years. Mayhap he should thank his father? He could. It had given him that steadfast demeanor of his and that fearless way of being out within the Theatre of War. He had been the golden boy for the British army; an S.A.S. soldier - an elite.

Then there were things he could damn that bastard for such as the quaking feeling that overtakes him at night. He could still hear that hoarse voice bearing down upon the sense of his ear and the hand upon his shoulder. He could still feel being crushed by darkness all around him when being shoved within a closet and soon after clinging to the door. He could hear nothing but his own heartbeat then and feel how slick his cheeks have gotten with tears as his face would press against the door.

Only six then. Only but only a boy within the throes of childhood. If even that.

Maybe that's why Charles frequented these bars. Maybe that coupled with the fact of losing the only thing he had ever been good out. He could thank that domestic violence that still echoes within the deepest recesses of his mind. He could thank Rhodry Ethan MacTavish for all of this now. With his hand upon a glass and his tongue feeling like leather from drinking so heavily. There were young men and women all around him, and Charles was the odd one out.

He was old when compared to the others. With crow's feet sprouting from the corners of his eyes and laugh lines visible at the edges of his mouth. His beard and dark hair are peppered with the ravages of time and age. That's not even making mention of his even six-foot-four height and weight. He's nigh a giant when compared to most men and women. Yet, Charles seems to hold his own amongst that crowd with his ribald demeanor as men and women bump about here or there.

Then the commotion; athough, truth be told, such was anything but that. It wasn't exactly a commotion per say with the way the lad was being quiet about the moment. Still, Charles' heightened sense of hearing had clung to the note of nigh distress upon the lad's tone of voice. He wanted her off of him. As for her? She obviously seemed eager to cling; in fact, that's what Charles saw when looking over.

His blue eyes widen a slight and he has to struggle not to laugh. There were some men who'd benefit over this and take advantage. She was obviously drunk, no? There were others who'd take her home, or even take her to less savory places for her use. Charles wouldn't go that far. He liked his women active. Maybe this boy was the same. Either way, whether or not the lad wanted her, this would be a sure fire way to get himself kicked out if he were to do much of anything. Maybe that's what drew Charles toward them. Maybe that's why he was reaching out and pinching the woman's elbow to assist with unwrapping her from the other. All the while she's muttering incoherently.

"Bugger off, lass. Find some other to bother," Charlie grunts and pulls her away none-too-gently from the other. She nearly stumbles but Charlie's girp still lingers enough to keep her upon her feet. All the while he has that one drink within his hand, and he's holding such above and away. Oh, yes, his drink is definitely far more important! Forbid that such would spill. He narrows his eyes for the moment before looking to the lad who she had been assailing.

He looks young to say the least. Charlie wouldn't have doubted that he was far too young to be here.

"They won't break, you know. You could grab them and pull them off, and they won't break," he says simply. "Unless you want them to," he adds with an amused glint to his warm eyes; drunk, yes, but only a slight to say the least. He leans away from him with a shake of his head.

"Afraid of women?"