Coffins and Diapers (Private RP: Kotoya and Slight)

[SlightPhobia]

The worst decision of Aaron's short life had been coming between a demon and its prey. He couldn't help it though. He was a stupid boy, but he also had some noble callings. When he'd seen the 'horned whatsit in hooker boots,' as Aaron so gracefully would have phrased it, he acted without thinking. The demon was hurting a young woman and it wasn't in his character to stand by and let it happen-- even if it meant an untimely death. The creature hadn't appreciated having its meal disturbed. Knocked for a loop, the demon had sent the persistent teen back a skip-track of decades to a time where sneakers and ATM machines weren't a way of life.
It'd taken the brat, from the heart of Chicago, to get used to his surroundings. He'd spent his first day running around like a nutter-- trying to convince the 'historical refractors' to stop fucking with him and tell him how to get back to Chicago. The English of the time had a hard time understanding his thick accent and dropped words. They had an even harder time fathoming why a boy would trapse about town in a sleeveless shirt that was two sizes too big and a pair of ratty jeans barely held up by a sloppy looking belt. Aaron didn't fit the landscape-- not at all. He was tall and gangly, perhaps viewed as an adult escaped from bedlam. On the inside though-- he was very much a frightened child. He had no friends here-- he didn't even have a trampy mother to return to now. He had only the filthy alleys and people who smelled just as badly as he did. Being homeless was not unfamiliar to Aaron... but being friendless--that was unforgivably difficult for the boy to endure.
Enter day two. Forty-eight hours had passed, and the world around him had not changed. He hadn't eaten or slept much since then. What he had eaten had nearly landed him in jail! He'd managed to pocket a tiny penny bun from a bakery before being chased out and shouted at. At the conclusion of the day, he'd made a solid decision: he needed to eat on the sly. To do such a thing, he would have to break into a shop, and hope there was something to eat. What shop had he cased? None other than the Undertaker's of course. It was creepy, to be sure... but there were few people who came and went-- and he hadn't seen the owner at all! Maybe it was a building left for summer? With this in mind, he adeptly picked the cellar lock-- if there even was one, and showed himself into the funeral parlour from the back. It was very late now-- a few minutes passed midnight, I'd say! If the racket of him breaking the lock hadn't alerted the gaunt reaper, the bustling in his kitchen soon would. Rifling around, the skinny teen peeked in jars and jugs, shoving his hand into the first canister he could find! Tea bags was what he came up with. After jawing on one, he tossed it aside, deciding it was not edible. Being able to read would have made the process easier... surely there were food-stuffs with labels. A second jar produced a handful of flour. Not being terribly discriminating, he stuffed a little bit into his mouth; the powdery fluff sticking to the edges of his mouth as he grunted and began to eat the raw flour. Anything was better than nothing, really. Dusty little fingerprints were soon everywhere! There were valuables here and there, to be sure-- maybe even silver and jewels... but they boy was not interested in really robbing anyone. He was a thief-- but he only stole what he had to to stay alive. What would the boy do if he was caught? Even he didn't know for now!

[Kotoya]

Of course, all the noise that Aaron was making hadn't go unnoticed. Undertaker lurked out of the coffin that he was in. He observed the surroundings to see what was making all the noise. Looking deep in, he found that someone was searching for something in his kitchen. Most likely food. Undertaker creeped into the kitchen, seeing that there was a tall, gangly looking boy in there. He looked as if he was in his late teens. He saw that he was eating flour, Undertaker did that creepy laugh he always did. He crept up behind that boy, leaned near to his ear without him noticing him, "Now what kind of a meal is that boy? Guhehehe." He back away slowly from making sure that his presence was noticed now. He thought that this boy, seemed kind of amusing to him. If he wanted he could have end him right now. But no, he picked Undertaker's interests. He is making sure that he stays alive.

[SlightPhobia]

Kids generally tended to avoid the Undertaker's place, didn't they? It was sort of a sad thing, truth be told. What had he ever done to deserve the shunning of children? They thought he was a nutter-- they thought he ate children. Children thought many awful things-- and they were awfully rude about spreading the lies. Aaron might not have been any more noble. He probably would have tried to herd little kids away from the shop had he heard the rumors... but people were making the same sorts of rumors up about him at present. Everyone said he was a loon-- a nutter.... a murderer. As the gaunt man strolled up behind him, the boy was too busy shoving a handful of flour into his mouth to notice. He only froze when he heard the eerie laugh of the strange man from behind him. "UAaah!" He shouted, twisting so quickly, the jar of flour went rolling across the kitchen floor, scattering white bits of powder everywhere. Instinctively, the boy hid his hand behind his back and winced slightly, blurting the only thing he knew to blurt: "I didn't take nothin'!" Double negatives... it was a sure sign that he was an uneducated peasant. Slowly, he relaxed, lowering his forearm away from his face so he could gaze the shopkeeper that'd caught him red-handed...er-- white-handed. There was adorable bits of flour smeared on his cheeks... even on his shirt. He looked very much like a naughty toddler who'd gotten into his mummy's makeup-- or the sugar box. "Wha.... Who?" he grunted, staring at the unearthly figure before him. Long silver hair-- it was an unusual sight for him to take in. The unusual clothes the man wore-- the long, lean build of his cloak-hidden frame. "U- Uh... I--uh," he choked, swallowing hard. All that flour had dried out his mouth. His eyes shimmered for a moment-- perhaps with guilt as he tried to squirm backwards, perhaps toward the door. "...I- I can pay you back, gran'mum? It was just a little... I was hungry... and I got no where.... Please don't call no one," he pleaded in a cracked tone. Fear was all about the boy.

[Kotoya]

The boy stuttered with every word he boy. He wasn't very intelligent, Undertaker was able to see that, by the way he spoke and the Undertaker looked to the side seeing all the things that were dropped on the floor and the ones that were tasted. There bottles of inedible on the floor. Surely he didn't know who to read either since on the bottle it said not to eat. Undertaker looked at the teen, he seemed pretty interesting. With his eerie laugh, "So you're hungry huh?" He said in his low, creepy voice. Just then, Undertaker walked out of the room then came back in rather quickly with a jar. A jar? I guess he might offer something to the hungry teen. He slowly opened the jar then showed it the the teen. "Take some," he said. In that jar were bone-shaped cookies. Well. They were possibly cookies. Seeing how it was Undertaker it was hard to tell if they were actually cookies and not dog treats. Undertaker pulled one of the bone-shaped treats out of the jar and started to eat it. "See," he started, "They're edible and much a better meal then flour. Guehehehe." Seeing how he actually ate one, they were most likely to be cookies.

[SlightPhobia]

"Mh--" The boy grunted, pressing his thin, pink lips together as the gentleman did not react with violent anger. How many shopkeepers would have boxed his ears until they bled or done far worse? So many on the streets of London would have beaten the boy to a bloody pulp and handed him over to the police for another round. The fact that this one did not forced a guilty lump into the boy's throat. Was he hungry? The question came, but like a little mouse backed into a corner, he could only stare back with wide eyes. "N- No please!" He whimpered as the man skulked away to retrieve something. "Don't call no one! Please! I'll work it off! Really!" He offered in a fear-cracked tone.
He was very surprised to see the man return with a jar of biscuits--even if they were bone shaped-- rather than some sort of weapon. Swallowing hard, he quivered as the man simply offered him the cookies and compared them to straight flour. The crazy man took one and ate it... and so Aaron did understand they weren't full of rat poisoning... or any other such dastardly thing. "B...but.... I can't... I don't got no money," he mumbled. Eventually, the hunger won out though. Leaning forward, he stood and dug his filthy hand into the jar, yanking out a pair of cookies. Shoving the biscuit into his mouth-- whole-- he practically choked on it for his lack of manners. Crumbs littered his face, joining the flour smears. He truly looked the role of a child. "Um...." He grunted, having finished the pair of biscuits. His eyes sank to the floor and glistened for a minute. "...sorry...." he mumbled. His voice wasn't particularly high-- and it wasn't particularly low. It was a mid-ranged pitch gravelled by a nasal sort of accent. "...I know I shouldn't break into people's houses but... Everybody thinks I'm crazy," he confessed. Looking up toward him, he wondered if, perhaps this one was as well. "I didn't think no one was home here.... so I didn't think it'd hurt nothin'... ...sorry," he mumbled. "I'll....do somethin' for you okay? Like... I can move shit... and I dunno... I could beat someone up if you wanted," he offered. It was doubtful Aaron could have beat up any of the Undertaker's enemies though. He was a human boy; no match for a reaper! Reaching up, he wiped his eyes quietly. He didn't want to cry. He was a tough-guy! But... everything was so overwhelming.
"....I just wanna go back home.... I'm from Chicago and... no one will listen to me! I was there two days ago until that stupid... horny guy with hooker boots!" he snivelled. Well-- THAT just sounded wrong. A little silly, really. "--He was tryin' to hurt the lady so I tried to make 'im stop... and... it was awful! I just remember falling and then I was here! And I don't understand-- Hgk!" He choked, repressing snivels as he covered his face with his forearm and turned away from the reaper. It was embarrassing to cry-- much less in front of a complete stranger he'd just tried to steal from!

[Kotoya]

Undertaker heard the boy's pleading. A demon? He wondered if it was that one demon that was with the young Earl. It couldn't be. The young Earl wouldn't allow that. He watch the boy as he ate the cookies he afford, "So you're not from around here." There wasn't really a point in asking really. Undertaker knew a lot of things. There wasn't a thing that he didn't know actually. But still, he ask the young boy. "You don't look like your from around here, so I would't say you're lying." He started to walk around the gangly looking teen, "So, you don't have anywhere to go? Guehehehe." He scoped out the teen, and he then looked at his kitchen. Oh what a mess had that teen made. So of course, the Undertaker wasn't going to let a chance like this pass him. He did need an assistance, and this boy would be perfect. The Undertaker walked closer to the teen, leaning near to his ear and then said, "So, if you're need in a place to stay, why not here? I could use the help and it would be much better then being homeless." He stepped back from the boy, still giving off that eerie laugh of his. "That is, only until you are able to go back home child."

||You are really good at this, I hope I'm doing a good job. If not, I'll try harder!!||

[SlightPhobia]

The Undertaker certainly wasn't acting like a shopkeeper who'd just been robbed-- well, sort of robbed. He was entirely too forgiving-- eerily so. Perhaps the man simply wasn't petty or perhaps he was a nutter as the people had said. Regardless, the boy stared up at him as he commented and giggled. He didn't mean to-- really he didn't, but he couldn't help but blurt: "...Are you really old?" What kind of a question was that?! "Yer... hair is grey," he continued, mumbling dumbly. "I... just seen'it now...." The boy's grammar was atrocious! What sort of an attendant would he make if he couldn't speak properly-- much less add or read and write?
Slowly, the boy got to his feet, grunting lightly as he saw the royal mess he'd made. "Um... I'll do whatever you want, I guess.... --uh... well maybe. It depends on what you do, right? 'cuz I ain't gonna do no hooker shit," he cussed and slewed. His mouth would also have to be cleaned up a tad if he was going to be a reliable, decent worker for a shopkeeper! "I mean... It ain't like I got lotsa choices, but... I ain't doin' that... and I ain't gonna kill no one neither... I been homeless a while-- so it ain't nothin' new..." --And it wasn't anything he was very good at either! Aaron didn't bother mentioning that. Nibbling his lower lip, he looked down at the floor-- studying the gentleman's unusual high-heeled boots. Was this ... a woman or a man?! "...you ain't mad, are you? I mean...." He didn't WANT to call attention to the things he'd messed up... but he also didn't want to be caught off guard by a sudden rage.

[.\\\\. Thank you! If you feel like you struggle with your posts, read them out loud. It's the easiest way to catch grammatical mistakes. If you can't read it out loud, re-read it from the beginning to end, slowly to see if it flows. You're doing fine. Undertaker is difficult to play with any amount of depth. You'll get the hang of it~ I'll try to coax it out. I just hope this is fun for you! <3]

[Kotoya]

That boy's grammar was horrid. Undertaker was surprised that he could even talk let along understand what he was trying to say in the least. "Tell me boy," Undertaker began as he slowly walked toward him, "You're not very bright are you?" Well that could have gotten out better. He didn't mean to sound very negative, though he did. Undertaker scoped out the room and found one of the jars he dropped on the ground. It looked as if someone attempted to eat it. Which was strange since on it said, "non-edible." He went and gently picked it up from the ground. "Do me a favor boy," he stated as he gave the jar to the boy, "read the title on the jar." The Undertaker wasn't trying to insult the boy or anything, he just wanted to see if he really was not that bright.

||Sorry for taking so long with these replies!! >n<
I'm trying to get creative with them, it kind of takes me awhile to write back long replies.||

[SlightPhobia]

[D|| I was sure I had posted my reply to this... and here it turns out I haven't! I'm so sorry! I really thought I had! -tackle, hug-]

The man had neglected to answer so many of his questions. He hadn't commented whether he was young or old-- hadn't even commented about whether or not he was mad. The man was either dodging questions, or he was selectively listening to him. The boy folded his arms and frowned mildly as the gent caused him of being dim. "Yeah? Well yer kinda ugly for a lady," he fired back, looking away from him. He waited for a moment, grinding his teeth in frustration. "...But I ain't gonna look a gift horse in the mouth... So I guess it's okay that yer kinda ugly." Whether or not he really found Undertaker ugly was anyone's guess. The scars might have been the cause of such a branding-- or the silver hair. No matter the accusation; if Undertaker was ugly, Aaron must have been hideous. Ugly was an insult he could endure. He had eyes that were a little shifty-looking and a slightly up-turned nose that was rather cute for a youthful face... but not very handsome or adult-like. Stupid, however-- that was something he could not endure. He knew he was dumb... and he was ashamed of it. It was only natural for him to bristle at such a remark.
The undertaker asked a favour and handed the illiterate young man the jar. Frowning, he gawked down at it. "What?" He asked, twitching as the man asked him to read. "What? Read yer own d*mn jars! I ain't here to f***in' read sh*t to you!" The way he snapped at the man communicated his illiteracy. It couldn't be expected that he would gracefully decline and confess. Aaron was a boy of very little brain. In an instant, he tossed the jar to the ground. If it was metal, it banged loudly... if it was glass? It probably shattered. The boy didn't seem to care during his act of frustration... but after he'd heard the jar rattle--or shatter, he slowly glanced down to his feet and blanched awkwardly. His temper... needed improvement. "Uh.... I can.... clean that up...." He half choked.