[Log] Alturo, Pesshe
Title: Pie To The Crotch -- Funny, Right?
Characters: Alturo (luminamon), Pesshe (shiroisasori)
Timeline: September 9, 2006
Rating: PG
Summary: Pesshe has pie, Alturo has crotch; it's a match made in meringue.
Pesshe carefully stashed the rest of his books into his locker, somehow managing to stuff all of them in there. (Surprisingly enough, there was still room to fit himself inside, too, even with all his books crowding the locker--Pesshe knew this from firsthand experience.) It was finally lunchtime!
He'd been waiting all morning for this, even getting antsy (haha!) in his favourite class--Entomology of course--as he thought of the lunch his mother had packed him today. All through English and Advanced Algebra, all he could think about was the fresh-baked French roll stuffed full of salami and tomato and avocado, the crisp potato chips, and best of all... the just-baked-this-morning slice of lemon meringue pie. Pesshe's mouth watered at just the thought of it. Really, it was a good thing his metabolism was so high; with the sheer quantity of food the stick-thin boy could put away it was a wonder he wasn't larger.
Pesshe held his lunch sack to his chest, eagerly rushing through the halls and into the open quad area--he'd find Nell and Dondo and enjoy his lunch with them on some sunny patch of grass. Once outside, Pesshe couldn't hold his patience any longer and opened his sack, just for a sniff of that lemon pie before he got to savour it. Unfortunately, all that met his senses was the strong scent of salami overpowering everything else. If Pesshe wanted to savour the lemon freshness, he'd have to take it out...
Just as he was doing that, paying absolutely no attention to where he was headed or what might be in his path, Pesshe tripped right over a random book bag lying on the lawn he was scurrying over-- needless to say, he went flying.
Directly into another student.
Pesshe looked dazedly up, raising himself onto his knees. His lunch was scattered everywhere. Sandwich dashed on the ground, chips spilled everywhere, and his pie--
Horror filled Pesshe's dark eyes--a bright, gooey streak of lemon filling and fluffy meringue was smeared down the crotch of the guy he'd run into. And not just ANY guy. A PRIVERON.
Privaron prided themselves -- they needed all the pride they could get when so few others held them for it -- on their prowess in strength and reflex, but neither had come into play when the little runt had tripped and half thrown the home baked pie at him. Alturo had jumped back enough that it missed his chest, but when it impacted at his crotch instead...
At a loss for words, he glanced down and made a cursory brush at the mess of meringue and lemon. Fresh as it was, little of it came free at his touch, clinging stubbornly to the dark plaid of his uniform -- the only one he had on hand at the moment.
Had it been an Espada to make the mistake, Alturo would have reacted rather than stood in that half startled state at the development. Had it been Espada, though, he would have known it to be malicious, whereas now he was trying to comprehend what kind of inelegance or low intelligence could have had the lack of wit to do that on purpose.
Dumbfounded as he was, Alturo said nothing, pale eyes moving to glance at the stick-like youth that had been the cause of the accident, expression no doubt dark and terrifying to the eyes of others. He stood and waiting, for some reaction or response that could somehow (impossibly) justify the fact that white and yellow dripped from his crotch.
"AH! UM. I'm sorry!" Pesshe stuttered, scooting backwards on the lawn as he stared up into the cold eyes of the Privaron he'd defiled with his pie. "I guess I didn't see you there; I tripped and--my PIE. My pie..."
Pesshe's large, dark eyes, well, the one that wasn't covered by the white patch of gauze, went a little sad as he realized he wouldn't get to taste it after all. Not unless he wanted to wipe what was left off the guy's crotch, or scoop up what was on the ground. And he'd been waiting ALL DAY for it, too.
The first, second, third, and every attempt to wipe or lick off the mess that had been made would be met with pain, and a great deal of it. Alturo established that when he noticed just how much the toothpick student stared at where the pie had splattered across his pants. The look of desperation did it, heightening precise awareness of what lengths one might go to in order to salvage lemon meringue pie.
"Your pie.... don't even think about it," Alturo warned, leaning over to wipe away the disgusting mess himself.
Pesshe finally looked up at the blue-haired Privaron's face, blushing as he realized he'd been pretty much staring at the guy's crotch. And--how'd he know what Pesshe had been thinking?! Was he drooling or something? Pesshe reached up a hand and swiped at his chin. Nope. Phew!
Still, it was so sad that his whole piece of pie had gone to waste... and then an idea popped into Pesshe's head. Something he could do to possibly make up for the mess he'd made!
"I'm sorry, Mr. Privaron!" Pesshe said again, hopping to his feet again. "Tomorrow I'll bring you a whole pie to make up for all this! What's your favourite kind?"
"No!" Alturo straightened and stared down at Pesshe, shaking his head to match his sharp rejection. "No pie, ever." At this, he leaned down to look him in the eye. "Ever," he reiterated firmly, reaching out to clamp his hand on the kid's shoulder.
What splattered across his pants was but one piece of pie. And now this kid was talking about bringing a whole pie? Alturo twitched at the thought of that mess and what inventive ways that could be smeared on him in an act of clumsiness. If that had been an act of clumsiness -- Alturo glanced to the side to see if there were fools enough to laugh and perhaps incriminate themselves in some sort of taunt-the-Privaron plot.
"Okay, okay! Don't need to tell me twice!" Pesshe said nervously, holding his hands up in front of him and flinching a little as his shoulder was grabbed.
Maybe the guy didn't like pie? It was a possibility, though Pesshe couldn't fathom it--who would turn down a whole entire fresh lemon meringue, or apple, or strawberry, or even blueberry pie? Well, maybe he just preferred some other type of pastry instead? Pesshe would find out, and then he'd make sure the guy got as much as he wanted.
"Do you like cakes better? Maybe cookies? What about éclairs or tortes? My mom makes the best crème brulee, too! Just name anything at all, and it's yours!"
The delirious rambles helped nothing as Alturo continued to wipe away the mess, pale eyes flickering from it to Pesshe with no slight irritation, and occasionally to the other students suspiciously. This kid apologised quite exorbitantly and his haste in offering compensation made him wary.
"Nothing!" Alturo shook his head and focused his attention on Pesshe, leaning closer as he held tight to the slight teen. Suspicions refused to be placated, so he decided to ask straight out what idiot had orchestrated this. "Listen for a minute: Who put you up to this?"
"P-put me up to this?" Pesshe asked, sensing an imminent pounding. This Privaron guy looked mad, and the way he was holding Pesshe's shoulder so tightly just did not bode well. Even Infinite Slick wouldn't help him now...
"Nobody put me up to this! Really, I just--I just tripped! I wasn't looking where I was going, I guess, I was so glad it was finally lunchtime and... I'm sorry!" Pesshe babbled, the situation looking worse and worse by the second. "I swear! It was all my fault!"
He turned his head away, hiding the side of his face with the eye patch. If he was going to be punched, he really didn't need it to be in his bad eye.
Alturo was tempted to do what Pesshe feared, his fingers went so far as being tightened into a fist. This was an affront to Privaron, no matter what the kid babbled in defence, but beating him would not get him any answers. Instead, his forced his hand to relax, grabbing instead for the kid's collar to haul him close.
"Lying to me is worse than what they'd do if you told the truth," he warned.
"I-I-what? Who?" Pesshe stammered, wincing visibly as he was pulled up even closer to the aqua-haired teen. Who was going to do worse things to Pesshe? Could it be the other Privarons? Maybe this guy was going to call his whole club on Pesshe, just for getting pie all over his pants.
"Please don't have your friends beat me up, too! I'm not lying, I swear!" He gave the Privaron a nervous grin, trying to be brave enough to look him in the eye so he'd know Pesshe was telling the truth.
Alturo hated it when people lied to him. The blatant sign of disrespect, thrown oft against the Privaron, added insult to the pride injury of having lemon meringue splattered across his crotch. And lies it had to be that Pesshe spouted, too defensive that he was about it being the fault of he alone.
"I have no need to call other Privaron," he replied, disgusted at the thought of needing assistance with such a small fry. "One of me is enough for an Espada gopher."
"Espada gopher?" Pesshe asked, sort of stunned. The Privaron still thought he was lying?! Oh, things just kept going from bad to worse to IMMINENT DEATH.
"I'm a Numeros!" Pesshe protested, holding both his hands up by his head in a gesture of protest and submission. He kept his head turned so his good eye faced the Privaron's angry glare, his good eye wide and scared. "Really! The Espada pick on me all the time; why would I do anything for them?!"
"One does things of idiocy to win reprieve," Alturo noted, dragging Pesshe closer as his grip tightened noticeably on the shirt he held him by. "What does a Numeros care about Privaron if the task gains them a week free of torment?"
The problem with that narrowed down to the fact that one week of freedom from Espada would earn him months of rejection from Privaron. No student could be fool enough to wish that upon themselves, as logic pointed out to Alturo.
But the pie seemed too conveniently splattered for it to be a mistake.
Alturo scowled and shoved the Espada-sympathizer away, allowing him his neck for today. "If I ever see you with pie again, you will not get away so easy," he warned.
Characters: Alturo (luminamon), Pesshe (shiroisasori)
Timeline: September 9, 2006
Rating: PG
Summary: Pesshe has pie, Alturo has crotch; it's a match made in meringue.
Pesshe carefully stashed the rest of his books into his locker, somehow managing to stuff all of them in there. (Surprisingly enough, there was still room to fit himself inside, too, even with all his books crowding the locker--Pesshe knew this from firsthand experience.) It was finally lunchtime!
He'd been waiting all morning for this, even getting antsy (haha!) in his favourite class--Entomology of course--as he thought of the lunch his mother had packed him today. All through English and Advanced Algebra, all he could think about was the fresh-baked French roll stuffed full of salami and tomato and avocado, the crisp potato chips, and best of all... the just-baked-this-morning slice of lemon meringue pie. Pesshe's mouth watered at just the thought of it. Really, it was a good thing his metabolism was so high; with the sheer quantity of food the stick-thin boy could put away it was a wonder he wasn't larger.
Pesshe held his lunch sack to his chest, eagerly rushing through the halls and into the open quad area--he'd find Nell and Dondo and enjoy his lunch with them on some sunny patch of grass. Once outside, Pesshe couldn't hold his patience any longer and opened his sack, just for a sniff of that lemon pie before he got to savour it. Unfortunately, all that met his senses was the strong scent of salami overpowering everything else. If Pesshe wanted to savour the lemon freshness, he'd have to take it out...
Just as he was doing that, paying absolutely no attention to where he was headed or what might be in his path, Pesshe tripped right over a random book bag lying on the lawn he was scurrying over-- needless to say, he went flying.
Directly into another student.
Pesshe looked dazedly up, raising himself onto his knees. His lunch was scattered everywhere. Sandwich dashed on the ground, chips spilled everywhere, and his pie--
Horror filled Pesshe's dark eyes--a bright, gooey streak of lemon filling and fluffy meringue was smeared down the crotch of the guy he'd run into. And not just ANY guy. A PRIVERON.
Privaron prided themselves -- they needed all the pride they could get when so few others held them for it -- on their prowess in strength and reflex, but neither had come into play when the little runt had tripped and half thrown the home baked pie at him. Alturo had jumped back enough that it missed his chest, but when it impacted at his crotch instead...
At a loss for words, he glanced down and made a cursory brush at the mess of meringue and lemon. Fresh as it was, little of it came free at his touch, clinging stubbornly to the dark plaid of his uniform -- the only one he had on hand at the moment.
Had it been an Espada to make the mistake, Alturo would have reacted rather than stood in that half startled state at the development. Had it been Espada, though, he would have known it to be malicious, whereas now he was trying to comprehend what kind of inelegance or low intelligence could have had the lack of wit to do that on purpose.
Dumbfounded as he was, Alturo said nothing, pale eyes moving to glance at the stick-like youth that had been the cause of the accident, expression no doubt dark and terrifying to the eyes of others. He stood and waiting, for some reaction or response that could somehow (impossibly) justify the fact that white and yellow dripped from his crotch.
"AH! UM. I'm sorry!" Pesshe stuttered, scooting backwards on the lawn as he stared up into the cold eyes of the Privaron he'd defiled with his pie. "I guess I didn't see you there; I tripped and--my PIE. My pie..."
Pesshe's large, dark eyes, well, the one that wasn't covered by the white patch of gauze, went a little sad as he realized he wouldn't get to taste it after all. Not unless he wanted to wipe what was left off the guy's crotch, or scoop up what was on the ground. And he'd been waiting ALL DAY for it, too.
The first, second, third, and every attempt to wipe or lick off the mess that had been made would be met with pain, and a great deal of it. Alturo established that when he noticed just how much the toothpick student stared at where the pie had splattered across his pants. The look of desperation did it, heightening precise awareness of what lengths one might go to in order to salvage lemon meringue pie.
"Your pie.... don't even think about it," Alturo warned, leaning over to wipe away the disgusting mess himself.
Pesshe finally looked up at the blue-haired Privaron's face, blushing as he realized he'd been pretty much staring at the guy's crotch. And--how'd he know what Pesshe had been thinking?! Was he drooling or something? Pesshe reached up a hand and swiped at his chin. Nope. Phew!
Still, it was so sad that his whole piece of pie had gone to waste... and then an idea popped into Pesshe's head. Something he could do to possibly make up for the mess he'd made!
"I'm sorry, Mr. Privaron!" Pesshe said again, hopping to his feet again. "Tomorrow I'll bring you a whole pie to make up for all this! What's your favourite kind?"
"No!" Alturo straightened and stared down at Pesshe, shaking his head to match his sharp rejection. "No pie, ever." At this, he leaned down to look him in the eye. "Ever," he reiterated firmly, reaching out to clamp his hand on the kid's shoulder.
What splattered across his pants was but one piece of pie. And now this kid was talking about bringing a whole pie? Alturo twitched at the thought of that mess and what inventive ways that could be smeared on him in an act of clumsiness. If that had been an act of clumsiness -- Alturo glanced to the side to see if there were fools enough to laugh and perhaps incriminate themselves in some sort of taunt-the-Privaron plot.
"Okay, okay! Don't need to tell me twice!" Pesshe said nervously, holding his hands up in front of him and flinching a little as his shoulder was grabbed.
Maybe the guy didn't like pie? It was a possibility, though Pesshe couldn't fathom it--who would turn down a whole entire fresh lemon meringue, or apple, or strawberry, or even blueberry pie? Well, maybe he just preferred some other type of pastry instead? Pesshe would find out, and then he'd make sure the guy got as much as he wanted.
"Do you like cakes better? Maybe cookies? What about éclairs or tortes? My mom makes the best crème brulee, too! Just name anything at all, and it's yours!"
The delirious rambles helped nothing as Alturo continued to wipe away the mess, pale eyes flickering from it to Pesshe with no slight irritation, and occasionally to the other students suspiciously. This kid apologised quite exorbitantly and his haste in offering compensation made him wary.
"Nothing!" Alturo shook his head and focused his attention on Pesshe, leaning closer as he held tight to the slight teen. Suspicions refused to be placated, so he decided to ask straight out what idiot had orchestrated this. "Listen for a minute: Who put you up to this?"
"P-put me up to this?" Pesshe asked, sensing an imminent pounding. This Privaron guy looked mad, and the way he was holding Pesshe's shoulder so tightly just did not bode well. Even Infinite Slick wouldn't help him now...
"Nobody put me up to this! Really, I just--I just tripped! I wasn't looking where I was going, I guess, I was so glad it was finally lunchtime and... I'm sorry!" Pesshe babbled, the situation looking worse and worse by the second. "I swear! It was all my fault!"
He turned his head away, hiding the side of his face with the eye patch. If he was going to be punched, he really didn't need it to be in his bad eye.
Alturo was tempted to do what Pesshe feared, his fingers went so far as being tightened into a fist. This was an affront to Privaron, no matter what the kid babbled in defence, but beating him would not get him any answers. Instead, his forced his hand to relax, grabbing instead for the kid's collar to haul him close.
"Lying to me is worse than what they'd do if you told the truth," he warned.
"I-I-what? Who?" Pesshe stammered, wincing visibly as he was pulled up even closer to the aqua-haired teen. Who was going to do worse things to Pesshe? Could it be the other Privarons? Maybe this guy was going to call his whole club on Pesshe, just for getting pie all over his pants.
"Please don't have your friends beat me up, too! I'm not lying, I swear!" He gave the Privaron a nervous grin, trying to be brave enough to look him in the eye so he'd know Pesshe was telling the truth.
Alturo hated it when people lied to him. The blatant sign of disrespect, thrown oft against the Privaron, added insult to the pride injury of having lemon meringue splattered across his crotch. And lies it had to be that Pesshe spouted, too defensive that he was about it being the fault of he alone.
"I have no need to call other Privaron," he replied, disgusted at the thought of needing assistance with such a small fry. "One of me is enough for an Espada gopher."
"Espada gopher?" Pesshe asked, sort of stunned. The Privaron still thought he was lying?! Oh, things just kept going from bad to worse to IMMINENT DEATH.
"I'm a Numeros!" Pesshe protested, holding both his hands up by his head in a gesture of protest and submission. He kept his head turned so his good eye faced the Privaron's angry glare, his good eye wide and scared. "Really! The Espada pick on me all the time; why would I do anything for them?!"
"One does things of idiocy to win reprieve," Alturo noted, dragging Pesshe closer as his grip tightened noticeably on the shirt he held him by. "What does a Numeros care about Privaron if the task gains them a week free of torment?"
The problem with that narrowed down to the fact that one week of freedom from Espada would earn him months of rejection from Privaron. No student could be fool enough to wish that upon themselves, as logic pointed out to Alturo.
But the pie seemed too conveniently splattered for it to be a mistake.
Alturo scowled and shoved the Espada-sympathizer away, allowing him his neck for today. "If I ever see you with pie again, you will not get away so easy," he warned.