Few Are Angels [Cedric]

[isiskinlan]

Isis slouched, a rather tattered sneaker braced on the railroad ties. The once-black threads having frayed and feathered out, were now a dull gray in color. His right arm was bent at a sharp and awkward angle--elbow thrust out, his wrist bent back with his palm facing upwards. A black leather jacket was thrown carelessly over his shoulder, dangling limply from his two crooked fingers. The heated metal blurred, wavered in the distance, and he had to narrow his eyes against the glare. He cut an odd figure, needless to say. The weight of an equally worn strap was a solid presence across his chest. It was a scavenged messenger bag, bleached by the sun and partially filled with sand, when he'd found it. And while the other members of his ring would have found such an item useless, Isis had been absolutely delighted.

A few safety pins here, a few iron-on patches there, and it would be good as new! He shook himself out of his delusions a second later. He didn't have access to any of those things here--a fact that left him more disappointed than it should have. But just because he was unable to decorate it as he liked didn't make it useless. Far from it. Now he had something to transport his more delicate supplies in--and that had brightened his mood considerably. His plan for the day was simple enough--he would follow the tracks to the border of the Fallen--in search of medicinal plants. Aloe vera, perhaps--Jojoba, if he was lucky.

He'd need to stock up on them soon, before winter withered them. Aloe vera thrived in the winter, but Jojoba nuts wouldn't last long when the nights turned colder. As cold as it ever truly was in the desert, at least. That had been the greatest culture shock for Isis, truthfully--more so than the melding of foreign accents and the lack of electricity, and any of the modern conveniences that came with it. But, for the most part, Isis was...adjusting. As much as he could hope to, at least. He feared he'd never truly feel at home.

But his thoughts faltered to a halt, and he ran a finger absently under the strap of the bag, stretching the worn elastic before resettling it more comfortably onto his chest. He had just begun to start off, when the faintest of rustles behind him caused him to draw up short, casting a scowl over his shoulder.

"You've got to be sodding kidding me," he muttered to himself. "I know we're a horse, mate, but that doesn't mean you need to hike your petticoats over some lizards having a laugh." If only Isis knew the half of it.

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[atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,true][bg=2d2d2e] Cedric was feeling a tiny bit ashamed of himself, but only a tiny bit. Sneaking around after the new Medic wasn't exactly a pastime he currently wanted to admit to having but come on, he was British and there was an extremely scary looking man with a Mohawk designed like the Union Jack, how could he expected not to be curious about it? There was also the fact that the Medic was good looking and he wouldn’t mind a fling or two with a cute Fallen guy, of course first he had to work up the nerve to talk to the other shifter. So that’s way he was currently hiding behind a desert shrub bush thingy, not because he was a creepy stalker but because he was a normal bloke who just wanted someone to talk to. It was just this someone intimidated him greatly which kind of complicated things. He watched as he subject of observation just stood there against the tracks, looking even more tough and likely to beat his little duck brains in if he dared venture into attacking range and Cedric cringed. He was torn between revealing himself and acting like a normal sane human being or just hiding away like a coward, a very safe and well fed coward. With a tiny adjustment of position, he decided to be a living chicken rather than a dead duck, not caring exactly how stupid that phrase sounded in his head. However fate was not on his side and that small shift of movement caused a rather loud rustle. Freezing in place, Cedric’s eyes widened in horror, he was bound to get caught and then his dashing good looks would be ruined and Shiro would never feed him again. No one wants an ugly duck after all. Deciding that it would be best to just give up now and beg for mercy, Cedric slowly stepped out of the bush or tried to, because in the end he just managed to fall over onto his knees. Raising his hands in surrender, he quickly lowered them as his brain processed the words that had had been uttered by the other man as Cedric fell. He had been caught, oh no it was much worse, he’d just simply ended revealing himself. “Bloody hell! Ah, pretend you didnay see that mate? An’ all be on my merry way!” Ooc: I FINALLY FOUND MY DUCKY TABLE!

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[isiskinlan]

Isis's expression went from one of wry self-deprecation to one of astonishment. For a moment, the medic said nothing, his confused state taking a moment to clear as he tried to process the sight before him. His eyes locked onto Cedric, sprawled in the sand, limbs akimbo and with the most ridiculously sheepish expression on his face. Letting out a breath, Isis relaxed marginally. He supposed it was habit--all those years of taking crooked, unsteady steps down the alley, and the crowded public transit systems had taught him well. The slightest noise was the mugger tipping their hand. You just had to be faster. But Cedric hardly looked like a threat, and judging by his frustrated sounding babble, he was praying that Isis wasn't one.

Which was laughable, really. It was clear that the man was a medic--or at least, he hoped it was clear. Which meant that he wasn't in the business of cracking heads. Repairing them, perhaps, and whatever other fool thing the member of the Fallen had done to themselves--or each other. But there was something...grating, about this man. Isis's eyes narrowed. He couldn't quite place it, and frankly, he was surprised at himself. He normally didn't make it a habit to judge others before he'd even had a chance to speak with them--ah. That was it.

That clear East London accent. There was something about it that set Isis's teeth on edge. "Sorry, wot?" he asked, brows furrowing. He wasn't saying it just to be an ass. Or, at least, not entirely. He truly had a hard time understanding the accent. "Bit of a spill, then? You alright, mate?" If nothing else, he'd resolved, even if he couldn't precisely understand Cedric, it was his duty to make sure that he hadn't hurt himself. Even if he was privately of the opinion that it would take a special brand of idiot to manage to hurt themselves on sand.

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[atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,true][bg=2d2d2e] It seemed the Medic hadn’t heard him or just didn’t understand his accent, which was fine with Cedric, it just made weaseling his way out of this just that much easier though he’d been trying to work on drowning out his accent lately and it was a bit of a disappointment to know that he’d failed. “Nothin’, just on my way somewhere else! Cheerio?” He managed to squeak out, as he resettled into a sitting position. Contrary to his statement, Cedric wasn’t exactly moving much expect to frantically brush off the sand sticking to his skin and clothes. It was the reason he hated the desert, too much of that bloody sand in all the wrong places! It made him cringe to even think about it and of course his cringing did nothing to help with the now yellowing bruise on his cheek. It was still left over from his embarrassing spill in Shiro’s boxcar and Cedric was staring to think it was going to permanently stay just to mock him. Staring blankly at the mohawk sporting man for a few moments, still absently dusting off the sand, Cedric was surprised at how not hostile he was being. Sure the man still looked scary as all hell but he wasn’t acting in any way that should warrant fear. It almost made Cedric feel bad for judging him. “Wot? Oh, ah yeah, I’m alright. Just took a small tumble, I do that quite a lot.” With that he got to his feet, a bit unsteady by nature but far more graceful then he’d been coming out from behind that bush. He took a few tentative steps towards the Medic and extended a slender hand. "I'm Cedric by the way." “So in an effort to not look completely daft and or barmy, do you want any help with….” He glanced around blankly, trying to figure out what exactly the man had been doing, other than just standing there. But he came up with no logical answer and so settled with just hoping that he wasn’t getting into anything too unsavory. “…With whatever it was you were doing?” Ooc: I....But you are dumb and crazy, Ducky.

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[isiskinlan]

The more Cedric babbled on, the greater risk for Isis's eyebrows disappearing into what little hairline he had increased. Part of him wanted to quietly slip away from the strange man that had come tumbling out of the weeds, fellow Brit or not. But there was something utterly baffling about the daft way he carried on. It had parallels with sunstroke--he was as roughly incoherent as a victim who suffered from it, at least--and yet, on the other hand, Isis had a sinking suspicion that Cedric was, quite honestly, always like this. "Oh, belt up," he sighed after a moment, a smirk curving his lips. The medic had gone from wary to needing a moment to think-something that the duck's shifter constant, nervous chatter wasn't conducive to.

Isis stared back, one eyebrow raising pointedly. The universal and quiet demand of What? Though, truthfully, he'd seen the exact same reaction so many times before in years passed that he'd grown resigned. "Alright, mate, you've got your bleeding eyeful. Now shouldn't you be 'cheerio-ing...'" He stretched out a hand and waved it in some vague direction over both their heads. "...Somewhere?" he suggested with a sweet tone. But the man had spoken up sometime during their staring match, and he sighed, his gaze falling on the faint, sickly yellow mark on the boy's cheek.

"...Git," he sighed, though not unkindly. "Let's have a look at it, then." Without giving Cedric the chance to decline the offer or back away, he took a single, purposeful stride forward, coming to a stop in front of Cedric. He reached out a hand, thin fingers catching hold of his chin and turning this way and that, brushing over the bruise slightly. After a second, he stepped back with a scowl. "You'll live." At Cedric's offer, however, he paused, and again his eyebrows attempted to repeat their vanishing trick.

"If you'd like," he said after a second of hesitation, sounding rather pleased in spite of himself. "I was going to have a walkabout, see if any of the medical plants were still in season."




Ooc: ...Isis, be nice. <3 And this will not end well. >>

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[atrb=width,400,true][atrb=border,0,true][bg=2d2d2e] As unexpected as the other’s agreement was, Cedric couldn’t help but regret offering his help. He didn’t exactly know anything about plants, expect maybe that they were green and needed sunlight? He also knew that as a child he’d ended up killing every potted plant he touched. In his defense most of the time he’d tripped and sent the decorative mini-flowering trees down the stairs rather than killing them through neglect. Still the prospect of working with plants made him cringe. However Cedric was not done with this other British man! Rather the duck shifter was intent of learning a bit more about the Medic and of course he might sneak in a little time to ogle the man as well. Cedric was always one who liked interesting people, the more tattoos or piercing or odd hairstyles the better to him! Shiro was a prime example of that. Finally remembering that he owed other man an answer, Cedric gave his cheek a sullen rub. “You still havenay told me your name, mate but I’ll help anyways! Shall just have to call you….” He trailed off for a second, trying to think of something silly but not too mean. The Mohawk sporting man still made quite the imposing figure after all. Then with a grin it came to him and first making sure to put a bit of distantence between the Medic and him, Cedric continued gleefully. “…Poppet!” Darting a bit further ahead, Cedric was distracted from his slight fear of the newly named “Poppet” by a spiky green plant. It was a cactus or at least that’s what it seemed to be and the sight of the single pink flower growing among the catus’s spines gave the duck shifter an idea. It wasn’t an idea he would readily admit to thinking but it was an idea none the less and so against his better judgment, Cedric shifted his hand closer to the plant. “Shiro would think this is just ace, I bet! Or at least he would be amused that I brought him a flower.” He muttered under his breath before reaching out carefully for the blossom. Cedric wasn’t careful enough however and when a movement in the sand caught his eye, distracting him for but a second, disaster struck. A needle pierced through his skin, quickly followed by a few more before Cedric registered the pain and quickly drew back his hand with a loud howl. “Bloody hell! Bloody hell! Bloody hell!” Hissing, he cradled his hand to his chest and fixed the cactus with a glare. Someday he would come back for the plant and smash it into tiny cactus bits! “I’ll get you! You an’ your little flower too!” Ooc: Isis I pity you. So much.

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[isiskinlan]

The look Isis fixed Cedric with was one of both incredulity and narrowed-eyed annoyance. Poppet. Isis had been called a lot of things in his life time--some fitting, others not--but never had anyone had the audacity to call him poppet. And to his face, no less! It was insulting. He had half a mind to tell the alarmingly cheerful duck shifter just where he could stuff his inaccurate pet names, when the distressed cries of the cheeky young man reached his ears. The scowl dropped from his expression, melding into a short huff of exasperation. "Alright, alright. Don't get yourself in a paddy," he grumbled, trotting the short distance it took him to reach the floundering shifter.

"Hold still," he commanded, reaching out to steady Cedric by his shoulders. Only once he was sure that the boy was still did he step back himself, releasing a quiet grunt of satisfaction. The fact that he refrained from rolling his eyes--but only just--was testament to his patience. Once he was sure that Cedric was settled, he moved to take his hand, lifting it up to his face. Frowning slightly, he turned it first one way, and then another. But the needles of the cactus were fine, and impossible to see by the naked eye. "Bet you won't be doing that again, eh, mate?"he said cheerfully, his lips twitching slightly in amusement. "Cacti tend to take none of your gruff."

Bracing himself for his next move, he lifted Cedric's hand just slightly closer to his face, gently uncurling the man's fingers. Ever so slowly, he eased them into his mouth, his tongue brushing along their pads and joints in a slow, meticulous manner. He could feel the spines of the cactus needles as his tongue brushed over them. Allowing himself a mental 'aha!' of triumph, he closed his teeth around the first, tugging gently. He was completely unaware of how, in his concentration, his eyes had locked with Cedric's.