About As Warm As A Sixty Year Old Corpse

IC Time: Afternoon of June 13, 2007
Location: Forks - Rugged Ridge Trail: Stream Shore
Synopsis: Ramona stumbles upon Spencer on the trail. The two talk, but Ramona ends up storming away.
Submitted by: Ramona

Among the twisting and crawling trees, along the depths of roots and muddy earth that features the shallows of the passing creek. Against the moss covered ledges and slit rimmed cliff faces there is a path slowly being beaten, a jeep parked up on the most accessible leaf of land, and a sluggish but definite source of noise floating against the soft Washington summer breeze.
Down a small embankment of flattened, weathered rocks Spencer can be found, lounging back against the rock below him, mutter to himself as he reads. Its true the most rational of people do not talk to themselves, but rationality can be left behind with sanity and moral for the afternoon.
Overhead the weather is fair enough, with a mild overcast to dampen the sunlight, but enough sunlight filtering through the cloud coverage and branches to cast it's glow over the rubbled forest below. It is a comfortable day. One perfect for the outdoors. One perfect for laying about, drinking, and very likely getting so lost..that sitting down and reading is merely the best source of action to take.

A comfortable day for some is the opposite for others. All day Ramona's been dodging the few spurts of sun that have managed to break through the clouds. Luckily, she's dressed for the occasion, in jeans, hiking boots, and a hooded sweatshirt, the stiff hood drawn up around her face and peaked at the back. It's not a very attractive look, but out here in the woods, who is looking?

She stumbles upon the jeep as she makes her way through the woods at a relatively-human-paced run. Her run comes to a halt, and Ramona tilts her head, lifting to inhale and undoubtedly, identify the scents in the area. Aha! Her eyes, a dull rose, brighten as she takes a hand and glides it along the jeep's driver's side as she descends the trail toward the river, her eyes skimming the landscape for the teenaged boy she'd had quite a few run-ins with now. Ramona tries to approach soundlessly, stopping two or three feet short of Spencer, not bothering to breathe. She shifts her hips to the right side, crosses her arms, and smirks. "Spencer! You read?" Her voice cracks, like she hasn't talked in hours.

Spencer is not..the inhumanly sharp hunter he should be. Thank god for small miracles. So Ramona's sudden presence does earn a slow yet clearly spooked shift of Spencer's movements. The book lowers to reveal a slightly paranoid set of blue eyes over its edge before it falls away completely. It leaves him looking up to her from his 'bed'. It also leaves him with a full view to demonstrate that almost taunting foot to head scan he's managed to perfect over the years. When he does speak, its following the wetting of his lips and an almost greedy gaze that settles on her. "Romona!" beat, "You squeak." Clearly he caught the crack in her voice, as well as her current dress. "And you're..what? Robbing a gas station in the next half hour?" after all…only criminals skulk around in hoodies. He should know. Check his passenger side seat for his own.
Regardless with as little strength as he can muster the girls arrival prompts him to sit up and forward, a hand moving to mess his hair before he casts a slow gaze upward toward the sky, then back to the woman. "Yes I can read. I'm destructive, not illiterate." So there.

Ramona scowls, her teeth bared just slightly as her lips pull away. "Shut it." Her arms don't budge, crossed in front of her chest like some sort of matron of a school for misbehaving children. After a moment she does, however, lower her hood, in the absence of any bright sunshine — her short hair is perfectly intact. Must be all that gel. "I'm dressed for the occasion of meeting you, of course. Your checking-out-a-lady method leaves much to be desired."
In a fluid motion, she drops down into a squat and then sits on a large rock. "So you're a bad boy with a passion for literature? I'm shaking in my boots." She says no more about the book: "So, you have a twin sister? Why didn't you tell me?" A real edge of curiosity edges into her voice, no longer cracking, thankfully.

Spencer merely chuckles before giving a loose shrug of his shoulders. "We both know I don't check you out." He teases dryly, "We both know I worship you. So let’s drop that series of insults now. Clearly you come out on top." No sense in beating around the bush there, and since he doesn't seem to interested in expressing if he was joking or not, he grasp the next conversation pieces like a child in a candy store.
"Bad boys give a shit." He corrects her moments later, "I'm more of a flawed product of too much coddling and not enough open space. My parents loved me too much." And according to his email he loves them much less than he should. "I prefer 'troubled individual'. And my reading is neither intended to impress or send fear into the hearts of millions, so I think it's safe to say you boots are correct in their stability." Ever the wordy pain in the ass he does eventually lean back against the rock behind him, giving a faint yawn before he turns his eyes back up over the woman. "I didn't think it mattered to be honest. Charli is an unfortunate byproduct of my existence. But you have me curious now." Clearly he expects her to further explain. "Oh, and it's nice to see you too Ramona."

"It wouldn't surprise me. Many people do," Ramona responds with a smirk tucked in the corner of her pale lips. Some color might be good for the woman. In the absence of it, her veins are nearly visible through her skin. "It comes with my status. Speaking of which, it's been way too long since I actually did something besides annoy the insignificant citizens of Forks. It's probably time for me to leave and record a new album or something. At this point, I'll probably have to go solo. My counterparts are disgustingly unmotivated." There's an arrogant rise to her voice as she goes off on a tangent about her career, stopping short to decide Spencer, in all likelihood, is probably ignoring her.
"What are you curious of?" Ramona asks, reluctant to come back to the other snippet of conversation. "I did some research on you." Suddenly, she smiles: "Does that annoy you?"

Spencer chuckles, and really he's paying attention just fine. Her arrogance is…entertaining. To say the very least about it. He even has an opinion. "They seemed like flakes." At least, one of them did. He's not sought her out again. "You should pick better people." And then, a new subject, one that strikes a soft arch of his brows over a rather blank gaze. It descends back to its blue depths however seconds later. "Should it annoy me?" he asks lowly, "Lots of people seem interested in researching me." Beat, "You're leaving?" See..he totally heard her. "For good?" curious? What? That's not important anymore.

Ramona pulls up her left leg and tucks it underneath her, her hands burrowing into the pocket of her hoodie. "I'm not going to find those people in Forks, Washington," she points out. "You're right. They are flakes; flakes and wannabes. All I really need is a guitarist and a drummer. Could find them in LA in a day." The kid's reaction seems to delight her. Ramona's mouth smiles widely; the cat that swallowed the canary. "Would you miss me?" she asks lowly. There's a pause as her smile falters, remembering the words before. "Who else is interested in researching you?" Inwardly, she curses, jumping to the immediate conclusion that it might have something to do with those 'good' vampires or worse, a wolf. "Nobody's as interested as I am." She winks.

Spencer is far too easy to coo into comfort. He's pitiful. "Well..I have to agree -there-. You won't find anything of effective value in Forks." Never one for self pride after all. "LA..much better. I miss it..why my parents wanted to move back to bum fuck Egypt I'll never fathom." His book is lifted again, if only for his hands to fidget upon as he flips through the pages in a lame attempt to reclaim his spot. "Of course I would miss you." He decides in a manner of seconds that leaves it very clear that he speaks without thinking, "And I would be very pissed. How unfortunate for the people close to me." And for his slowly healing criminal record. As for her final query, it causes his flipping to stop and his eyes to freeze in thought for a moment before he shifts..uncomfortably. "I..dunno really." Lie. "Just..I dunno." Bad lie. He lied to Ramona! Who knew. Not that it's the most believable of actions. Or the safest.

Ramona picks up a leaf the blows lazily in the wind and slowly tears the crisp, green part away from the veins of the leaf, limb by limb. "You should come," she says suddenly, perhaps feeling threatened that some other unnamed source might be entrenching on her 'territory.' "Can't you play guitar or something? You might be remotely useful." She glances over her shoulder. "You got it in your car? You should show me." She can't remember if she was supposed to know about the guitar prowess or if she stumbled upon it in her research of the kid. There's a pause as she finished shredding the leaf. "Damn, I'm being way to nice to you. This is fucked up. Anyway," Ramona scrambles into a stand and then leaps over to where Spencer is, grabbing for his hand, trying to lace her cold fingers through. "Why don't you just tell me, Spencer?" She smiles coldly.

Everything was going for too well. Nice. Calm..creepy. Perfection! "I'm pretty sure you're talking out your ass." He points out drolly at her invite, though her next question prompts him. "I think we covered that any emo in America plays guitar. I do..but not that great." He's decent. He's just lazy, and not exactly /driven/ to plug into the worlds opinion of music, which in his opinion is BAD. "Yes, it's in my jeep..but like I said not really-" he was doing so good, till she pounces and grabs at him, curling chilled fingers around his own which causes a vast set of reactions that are beyond inherit, instinctual reactions. He's on his feet very quickly..hardly quick compared to him but he spares not a second or twitch of his body before he's seeking to stand. And..there is the distinct hesitation and detachment over his features as he tries to think back. Is he high? He can't remember! It's overwhelming at the cold of her skin. His brain is processing…slowly. Oh. Right. "Cause..I dunno. It's complicated."

Ramona knew she was missing some small detail. Oh yeah: it's difficult to use charm when you can move dangerously quickly and you're about as warm as a sixty year old corpse. Her face goes sour and she stands as well, putting one hand on her hip. It was usually fun scaring people, but now, it was just plain inconvenient. "I see," Ramona says coldly, turning her head away and glances into the distance, the classic female 'pissed' pose. "You're right. Why would I want the likes of you hanging around me? You're afraid of me," she taunts. "You're afraid of me touching you, of judging you if I knew. Oh," she sighs. "Here I thought I had found someone above the influence of others' opinions." Funny thing for Ramona to say, who so clearly loves adoration. "See you around, maybe. I'm probably leaving for LA though tonight." She begins to walk away.

Spencer does eventually collect his thoughts. Mostly he realizes he is NOT high. Which is annoying in its own aspect. What is even worse is that in some point in the last 37 seconds he's offended the woman and still can't quite pin down how.
"Jesus. I'd tell you anything." He protests at a pitch dangerously close to a growl. Now he's not freaked. Now he's pissed. "But I. Don't. Fucking. KNOW!" So..he can yell. At Ramona.
Who knew.
"And I'm not /afraid/ of touching you. I'd love to touch your skull with brick right now but I think that's just me being bipolar." And..he can get mad at Ramona. He doesn't like getting strung along by his..he hates being teased.
And..3..2..1.. He's back. "Wait..Ramona..I'm.." meeeehh. "I shouldn't have.." sigh. "Don't leave!"
Apologies are still his weakness. He just can't do it! "I just hate someone thinking they can blackmail me. It gets under my skin." And if all else fails..blame someone else!

Ramona clenches her fists at her sides at the yell. How and why was she letting some kid yell at /her/? The question leaves a heavy weight in her mind, but she does turn around on her heel, quickly and in a most severe motion. Her eyes are narrowed, brows slanted downward, but Ramona does, however, find her composure enough to speak in a steady tone. It helps that she's several feet away now, and also quite well-fed, at the moment. "That's all you had to say. I don't like liars, though." Her arms cross and she ventures to take a step forward. "I'm still thinking of leaving, but you do have me intrigued. Blackmail?" She's confused, for a moment. Was he talking about her? Her plans didn't include blackmail. Somebody else, then. "Why the hell would someone blackmail you? There's not much you give a damn about, obviously."
There is a pause as Ramona shakes her head. "Whatever. You're probably still lying… I'm too busy for this." Unable to contain a fidgety sort of anger and afraid that she might give herself away, the vampire turns around again and runs off.

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