Rain Stick [Open!]
Mar 5, 2016 23:06:19 GMT -5
Post by rotmouth on Mar 5, 2016 23:06:19 GMT -5
((open to anybody! i haven't done this in So Long please be gentle with my tender ass
i hope it's okay to make an open board in this section I'm Sorry))
Inevitably, she was closing up tonight.
Though not Inana's first choice in terms of favorable duties, it wasn't an unusual one for a slow Saturday evening. They'd restock and people watch and scrub grubby fingerprints out of cloth for the length of their ten hour weekend shifts, and then the two of them (always two, never work alone) would maneuver stubborn clothing racks carrying equally weary cargo to the far sides of the room, allowing them just enough space to finish cleaning while lowering the risk of a misplaced elbow rearranging the other's face. And, eventually, when the bulk of the mess was eliminated or fumbled with until out of sight, they'd try their damnedest to shut the shop door that was definitely not meant to fit on that frame before pulling a huge chicken wire covered panel from the neighboring half-foot wide "alley" and locking it into place in front of the store's entrance. On nights like this, when artificial rain pelted their knotted shoulders and bit icy bolts through their work outfits, they'd even pull down the end of the tarp that gave their nameless storefront a somewhat distinguishing awning, fashioning a quick and dirty tented four-foot clearing for any passerby in need of a dry(ish) place to crash (and their boss would bark in the morning that it was an unsafe business practice, but would hardly make a secret of the fact that they did the same damn thing when they thought no-one was looking.)
So, in the end, she'd anticipated that she'd be battling the rain-slick ring of keys on her waist more or less as she was now.
What Inana hadn't expected was that she'd be closing up on her own.
A frustrated grunt stuck in her throat as she exasperatedly let the keyring fall slack and clang against its attachment to her belt. That must've been the third time she'd gone through the whole set, it seemed, and somehow the usually conspicuous fit to their makeshift security grate's rather old fashioned padlock was evading her fingers. She was wet and tired and too damn cold, she figured, to even tell her elbow from her asshole at this point. Rubbing her hands in an attempt to jolt their nerves back to alertness, she pulled close to the wall and sought a moment's reprieve beneath the violently shaking, luckily very much waterproof, fabric overhead. Emergencies, those she understood, and she'd readily agreed to wrap up the night's work when her shift partner finished with what seemed like a rather jarring holocall. Do something beneficial, she'd thought, be a good employee, look reliable. His appreciative smile and absentminded pat to her back made her stomach churn with something unsettling but maybe not entirely unpleasant, and she'd considered it payment from him enough when he finally left and allowed the feeling to fade. But she'd been distracted just enough to forget the first rule of the establishment:
Never work alone.
Inana huffed a hard breath into her palms and watched the resulting cloud of moisture as it hovered briefly before being swallowed by the winds beating around her frame. Standing about wouldn't get her in bed any faster. She took a moment to pat her hands dry on a tiny patch of only-vaguely-damp shirt before attacking the jingling menace affixed to her hip. This would've been a lot easier if she hadn't locked her glasses inside on accident. Not doing that was probably somewhere on the rules list, too, and yet here she was. Hell if she was going to muck around with two locks, though, so inside they'd stay until her next shift.
i hope it's okay to make an open board in this section I'm Sorry))
Inevitably, she was closing up tonight.
Though not Inana's first choice in terms of favorable duties, it wasn't an unusual one for a slow Saturday evening. They'd restock and people watch and scrub grubby fingerprints out of cloth for the length of their ten hour weekend shifts, and then the two of them (always two, never work alone) would maneuver stubborn clothing racks carrying equally weary cargo to the far sides of the room, allowing them just enough space to finish cleaning while lowering the risk of a misplaced elbow rearranging the other's face. And, eventually, when the bulk of the mess was eliminated or fumbled with until out of sight, they'd try their damnedest to shut the shop door that was definitely not meant to fit on that frame before pulling a huge chicken wire covered panel from the neighboring half-foot wide "alley" and locking it into place in front of the store's entrance. On nights like this, when artificial rain pelted their knotted shoulders and bit icy bolts through their work outfits, they'd even pull down the end of the tarp that gave their nameless storefront a somewhat distinguishing awning, fashioning a quick and dirty tented four-foot clearing for any passerby in need of a dry(ish) place to crash (and their boss would bark in the morning that it was an unsafe business practice, but would hardly make a secret of the fact that they did the same damn thing when they thought no-one was looking.)
So, in the end, she'd anticipated that she'd be battling the rain-slick ring of keys on her waist more or less as she was now.
What Inana hadn't expected was that she'd be closing up on her own.
A frustrated grunt stuck in her throat as she exasperatedly let the keyring fall slack and clang against its attachment to her belt. That must've been the third time she'd gone through the whole set, it seemed, and somehow the usually conspicuous fit to their makeshift security grate's rather old fashioned padlock was evading her fingers. She was wet and tired and too damn cold, she figured, to even tell her elbow from her asshole at this point. Rubbing her hands in an attempt to jolt their nerves back to alertness, she pulled close to the wall and sought a moment's reprieve beneath the violently shaking, luckily very much waterproof, fabric overhead. Emergencies, those she understood, and she'd readily agreed to wrap up the night's work when her shift partner finished with what seemed like a rather jarring holocall. Do something beneficial, she'd thought, be a good employee, look reliable. His appreciative smile and absentminded pat to her back made her stomach churn with something unsettling but maybe not entirely unpleasant, and she'd considered it payment from him enough when he finally left and allowed the feeling to fade. But she'd been distracted just enough to forget the first rule of the establishment:
Never work alone.
Inana huffed a hard breath into her palms and watched the resulting cloud of moisture as it hovered briefly before being swallowed by the winds beating around her frame. Standing about wouldn't get her in bed any faster. She took a moment to pat her hands dry on a tiny patch of only-vaguely-damp shirt before attacking the jingling menace affixed to her hip. This would've been a lot easier if she hadn't locked her glasses inside on accident. Not doing that was probably somewhere on the rules list, too, and yet here she was. Hell if she was going to muck around with two locks, though, so inside they'd stay until her next shift.
