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An Imposing Storm (Saria × Tiberius)

Tiberius

Tiberius

Super-Earth
Joined
Jan 27, 2012
(OOC: Content - m × m (trap). So you know if uninterested in this sort of thing.)

The end of rainy season for the rainy northwest. Nowadays -- in fact, every day, every year the weather seemed to be getting worse. 10, 15 years ago the sun would be shining pure and naked through the heavens in this time of year, with sweet-smelling blossoms painting the land with bright, impressionistic hues. But now, the green grew black as floods started to kill the indigenous life.

Today was not going to be a good day. At least, not for those caught out in the rain or relegated to the lowest levels of society - water flows downward, after all.

A youth dressed primarily in reds stepped out of a vehicle that pulled into the neighborhood up in the hills. After blowing a kiss, the car drove off, heading up and away from the storm imposing itself over the cityscape far in the background.

«So... what now?»

It didn't take long for her - or at least it appeared as such - to get completely soaked, and thoroughly so. The soft-faced youth stretched, squeezing just a drop of the torrential downpour from the long, thin cotton hoody she was wearing. Beneath the figure almost appeared to be nothing save some striped socks that ran up to her thigh, or at least it appeared that way due to the hoody.


The figure walked. The neighborhood seemed almost upper class, all in all. Political posters had fallen away, children's toys were filling with water, all the lawns were green and well trimmed albeit flooded. It wasn't hostile by any means, but for what it was, it struck the figure that none of these people ever lived like she, or still perhaps he, did.

«That should work. It even smells right.»

The figure marched himself up to the door of one of the neighbors. The house come upon almost looked abandoned; the lights were off, the windows were blocked so one couldn't see in. The lawn even was a little more unkempt than the others in the neighborhood. Perhaps the home of a lazy bachelor, perhaps the home of someone who lost electricity with the storm.

Standing underneath the porch, the figure knocked on the door, standing idly by as if she were waiting for a friend to get up and answer.
 
Jake cursed softly in aggravation as the power went out. Again. How his house was the only one on the block that lost power at the slightest provocation from the heavens was beyond him, though the power company swore up and down there was nothing wrong with the breakers and the electricians promised everything was fine inside his home. It was as though he were cursed. He sighed and set his book aside, finding the grill lighter he'd made a habit of keeping nearby and setting to work lighting a few candles.

The sound of someone at the door gave him pause. He wasn't expecting anyone and the neighbors generally left him to himself. He took a candle to the window to peer out, though the rain was too thick and the sky getting too dark to see much of anything other than a hooded figure. Something warned him against answering, though he couldn't very well leave someone out in that kind of weather in good conscience.

He lit another candle and picked it up, nearly tripping over the tear in the carpet on his way to the door. He flipped the locks and tugged the door open enough to glance out, squinting at the figure. "Can I help you?"
 
The figure wordlessly pushed through the door and under Jake's arm. There wasn't any force behind it, the person took advantage more of the time between processing and reaction.


Standing in the center of the room, the person pulled off the hoodie, which clung to the shirt, before tossing it on the floor. The person underneath was as red as the outside, with the socks ending just before what seemed to be a pair of daisy dukes. Skin was smooth, almost creamy pure too. The shirt was an extra large tee, a certain scarlet or vermillion colored rag. Very lithe, rather petit - that was the person. Perhaps unfortunately for Jake, the top didn't pull high enough to show him any more than the person's flat belly, but it appeared that if the person even had breasts they were of the smallest size that could be in a bra.

"Fyanks... thanks, I myean. You do not mindt, if I styay here for fis stor'm, no?"
"Thanks... thanks, I mean. You don't mind if I wait out the storm here, do you?"



Every word was soft and a little broken, rather disjointed all around. But it was still coherent, enough to get around. The person's voice was almost the same; high-pitched with a lisp, but perhaps pushing the lower boundaries of an alto. It was somewhat whispered as well; strained, but thoughtful.


"Ya Sasha, by the way."
"I'm Sasha, by the way."



The person held out a hand to shake. It was cold and wet from the rain, but it was soft, and fairly limp. The position gave Jake a better look, too - long, red hair; thick, luscious lips; cerulean eyes surrounded with just a smidge of eyeliner. A thin face with a strong bridge but nothing very masculine, fox like eyes, and so on. A blush as well, which may have been natural in that rain.
 
Jake blinked as the person waltzed in without being invited. "Hey!" He narrowed his eyes in confusion and aggravation. Damn entitled kids these days. "Don't go throwing stuff around another person's home," he muttered, eyeing the hoodie. He sighed softly as the wind picked up outside, quickly shutting the door as the rain started to be blown inside. "Looks like I don't have a choice..." He watched the...female? a moment before stepping closer. "Stay here, I'll get you a towel..."

He headed down the hall in the dark with his candle, retrieving a couple towels before returning. He handed one over and picked up the hoodie off the floor, hanging it on a hook by the door. "Sasha, was it...? What were you doing out in this storm?"
 
She was utterly still, and didn't even react to his critique. Nonetheless, she took the towel and immediately took to drying the long hair.

"Yes... Basically, my ride stopped. I can not go by auto no more... And, fanks"
"Yes... basically, my ride stopped. I can't travel by car anymore. And, thanks."


Despite the gratitude, her words were aloof. She dried off her arms, before letting out something of a yawn. And with that, her mode suddenly became sharp, almost annoyed.

"Turn around."
 
Jake moved the candle a bit as he used the other towel to mop up the floor with his foot, glancing up at the strange order. "Excuse me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Something was... definitely off about that story. He didn't remember seeing a car outside when she'd come to the door.
 
Sasha seemed not to react to Jake's incredulity, instead immeadiately acting as she -- or so it seemed -- intended.

She lifted off her shirt, showing nothing but a b-cup bra that seemed a little disjointed from what would be expected of the natural flow of her body. Casting it down, she did the same with the leggings. She turned around, walking towards where Jake pulled the towel, taking it with her.

"Down here -- your shower? My clowts hopeless, unbathed too. If you have some of your own to spare it would be most appreciated."
Note - more translation than de-accenting: "Is back here where your shower is? My clothes are hopelessly wet. Haven't showered in a bit either. Could you bring me some of yours?"


Sasha took a moment, dropping the dukes in place as well. Still not nude, angle, at least, would give Jake an optional look at a round, full ass covered only by a pair of form-fitting, soaked panties.

"Fyank you so very much!"
"Thank you, really!!!


Around the corner Sasha disappeared, with the panties being thrown back, followed shortly by the bra, and the sound of the door shutting and locking.
 
Jake blinked and a strangled sound of protest stuck in his throat as clothes started coming off, hastily turning around and pressing a hand to his face. Oh gods he was going to hell for even wanting to look. He pinched the bridge of his nose and risked a glance back at the question. "Uh... yeah, that way, but I haven't put-" he started, twitching in mild annoyance as she disappeared around the corner. Well, she could just bathe in the dark then. He sighed and eyed the clothes on the floor, scooting the towel with his foot and shoving them all into a pile in the corner.

That done, he went to the kitchen for the large flashlight he kept for just such emergencies and found his jacket. "I'm going out to see if the generator will work," he called before heading out to brave the storm. The wind was picking up and the rain stung against his face as he made his way to said generator, praying this was one of its good days and he wouldn't have to fight with it an hour to get it to work. Somehow he got lucky and it only took two tries before it hummed to life. He hurried back inside and grabbed his own towel on his way to his bedroom to change into dry clothes.
 
Sasha managed the shower just fine, bathing someone quickly before stepping out. With the lights on, he studied himself in the mirror until his gracious host brought him some clothes. It was his time to be him, but it ended abruptly.


Sasha took them without opening the door wide enough for Jake to see. Only moments passed before the figure stepped out, refreshed, wearing her much too large clothes.

It was still not enough. Her chest was still ambiguous; her hair still long, her face still smooth and androgynous.


"I vill cook for you dinner. Fyank you really so much, dyear. You should ought bate di rain away too, no?"

"I'll cook you dinner. Thanks so much, really. You probably should wash the rain away too."


Sasha then, still without any feedback from Jake, walked off, quickly finding his kitchen without direction.
 
Jake handed over a pair of old sweats and t-shirt, rubbing a towel over his damp hair, eyeing her curiously and with the same annoyance as she walked around the place like she owned it. Damn brat. He followed her to the kitchen where she'd likely be disappointed with his available ingredients for cooking. He usually ordered in or picked up frozen meals when he went grocery shopping. The only things in his fridge were milk with a questionable smell, eggs, yogurt, and a few cartons of leftovers ranging from Chinese to pizza.

"If you're hungry, fine, but I already ate," he said.
 
Sasha, hands on hips, began scrummaging around the room, to no avail.

"Blyeen... Here I vwas going to cook you good food. Ya. Pierogies polskii with a side of plov and soup."
"Damn... Here I was gonna cook you something good. Yeah... Polish pierogies (think Slavic potstickers), soup, and a side of plov (Kyrgyz/Uzbekistani rice pilaf)."


She turned around, dropping her arms.

"What to do?"
"What do you want to do?"
 
Jake raised an eyebrow, not even sure what that was and unable to decide if it sounded good or not. Wasn't pierogies a breed of dog?

He sighed and headed to the cupboards. He was sure he had some instant oatmeal and some peanut butter somewhere. He even had a loaf of bread that wasn't molded. He set various items on the counter. "I haven't been shopping lately and I certainly wasn't expecting company. This is all I have." He glanced towards the window with a sigh. "And with this storm, no one is going to deliver right now."
 
Sasha echoed the sigh.

"Ah.. It's fine. I'm not hungry, I just wanted you happy. Umm... Any idyeas?"

"Ah.. It's fine. I'm not really hungry, I just wanted you to be happy. So... Any ideas on what to do?"

She folded her arms together, shaking her head at the shame.
 
Jake raised an eyebrow and turned to look at her, leaning against the counter. Make him happy? Who said things like that to a stranger? "Do you want some hot tea?" he asked, pulling out the box of black tea he kept. "And do you have anyone you can call to pick you up?" He pulled the tea pot out and filled it up with water before plugging it in.
 
"Umm..."

Sasha thought for some time.

"No, sorry. Thank you."

Sasha made her way to chair, sitting.

"My... my friend, who dropped me off, is now gone, and I do not have number. She... she not know of this storm."


Sasha cracked her knuckles.

"Sorry... I will be gone first thing when storm passes. And you can search me too - no worries, I am no scoundrel. Sorry."
 
Jake frowned and fixed himself a cup of tea, adding a spoonful of honey to it before sitting across from her. "Parents?" he asked, almost afraid to ask if she was one of those who had been smuggled into the country, though the likelihood of someone like that showing up on his doorstep was slim to none, right?
 
Sasha was taken aback, blushing quite a bit before calming down, as if she had not realized the nature of the question.

"Yes. They moved here when Putin came to power. But they are no longer in my life."

Sasha pushed up the shirt a bit, struggling to readjust the way the shirt held up what little there was of the breasts without drawing too much attention.

"You?"
 
You have got to be kidding me... something like this only happens in chick flicks and porn... he thought, flushing briefly at that thought and taking a large sip of tea, eyes watering as it burned his mouth. "Me?" he asked. "My parents live in Boston... I'm more concerned about you - do you not have anywhere to stay?"
 
"Mir yis my dome, but Mr. Rain frows orgyy - eh... party... house, yes."

"The world is my dome [cognate to house] but Mr. Rain is throwing an orgy [poor word choice].

The embarrassment seemed to come back. Sasha was growing uneasy around him it seemed, as she broke eye contact.
 
Orgy? She did just say orgy, didn't she? Oh gods, was she really one of those girls brought over for the sex trade?

"I...see..." Jake stared at his tea and wondered what he should do. He couldn't very well call the police, he knew how the system worked and that she'd only end up being deported. She couldn't stay here either though... He glanced up as the lights flickered, but stayed on, sighing and scratching at his chin. "You can stay here the night. We can figure something out in the morning..."
 
Sasha fell back in her chair, a look of surprise in her eyes.

"Morningk? If it is not raining, then I will lyeave.

Is simple. I indyeed enjoy my life, sank you, nah yit is just my friend lyast night, she was not able to keep me hyidden to-night."

"Morning? If it's not raining, I'll go.

It's simple. I really enjoy my life [how it is], thanks, but it's just that my host the previous night couldn't keep me hidden tonight.


She began playing with her hair a bit, twirling it around her finger.

"I mean... really... thanks for help. Baht I yam good, really. Simply really want to know how it is I can replay you your work, since food -- no do."

"I mean... really... thanks for the help. But I'm good, really. I just really want to know how to repay you, since cooking you dinner didn't work out."
 
Jake sighed softly and rubbed the back of his head. "If you don't have anywhere to go, I don't feel right about sending you out before morning..." he murmured. His eyes flicked to her finger in her hair, absently wondering if it was as soft as it looked before quickly shoving those thoughts away. Gods, he needed to get laid. Bad. And not... with someone who had a good chance of being a prostitute.

"Ah... no, you don't have to thank me. Really."
 
"Hmm... Vhat now, den? Dyo you maybe hyave a piano? Or somefing?"


Sasha put her chin on hand, elbow on the table. Now it seemed clear she was in fact bored.

"Somefingk, I fink, should be done."
 
Jake blinked at the question. "Ah, no, sorry... All I have are books and the TV... You're welcome to either." He bit his tongue to keep from asking if she were interested in something...else as his eyes flicked over what he could see of her. He cleared his throat and looked away, taking another gulp of his tea.
 
"Hmm..."

She stood up, spinning around to grab the back of her chair.

"Ya znayu kto -- I kood sveep, mop, et cetera for you. Seemple."
"I know wha --- I could sweep, mop, and so on for you. Simple."


She had a look of almost fierce determination - why, it was probable that even she didn't know.

"Only odder fingk I cahn fink off - we and you just' talk on te couche."

"The only other thing I can think of -- you and I just talk on the couche."
 
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