Job Details: https://www.fairytail-rp.com/t2821-take-care-of-my-baby
The day was long, my feet were tired, and the road was as bumpy as ever. I had received a job off of the board in Hargeon, which said I would basically be a babysitter. NO, I was to be a baby sitter, though it was my least favorite thing EVER. Children were annoying, rude, and invaded personal space like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. And this one seemed to be no better, (in fact far worse) then other children of their age. It was not an exciting prospect, nor a very enjoyable one for that matter, but it was easier, and far more lucrative in terms of the work, then say, getting along with two strangers in the middle of nowhere, underground, and fighting monsters. I mean, it gave me what basically amounted to a map that also boosted my power for some reason, whilst also gaing a captain's coat that currently sat in the bag on my side, my black messenger bag that acted as a pseudo-dimension for all my... more awkward items. Mostly, it contains parts of items I accrued from my adventures, as aforementioned I had those two lovely bits of interesting treasure, mechanical pieces, bark of strange trees, from Pandora, and more. However, I became less preoccupied with my bag, and more on the impending, and imposing gates of the city of Magnolia. They were tall, though unbarred; made of a stone type material, one that I could not find enough care in the world to actually care about it. I passed through with no issues, nigh surrounded by the mid-morning mob that had gathered along the roadside. They pushed and bodied their way along the smooth, antithetical stone streets that changed so rapidly, a neat divide marking the streets from the antiquated stone pathway. It was difficult, finding Katy's house among the throngs of similar houses sitting next to one another. It took the better part of the morning, the only marking of difference of Katy's house to the rest that stood around it was the... unkempt nature of the exterior of the house. The grass was tall, wild and full of Lion's grass, and the house had cobwebs lining the exterior. I made the mental note, and the audible gulp, that someone who was regretting prior decisions would make. "Well, lets get this over with." I said quietly. I knocked on the door, to a frazzled man, brown hair, tall, and with uneven stubble lining his face. His eyes perked up at the sight of me standing just past the doorway. His gravelly, and exceptionally tired sounding voice spoke up quietly, saying: "Are you... the Babysitter?" I nodded and he motioned me inside. The house itself was a mess, the main room was littered with toys, and the hallway the man and I were stood in was a mess, the walls were colored on, (depicting things a child should not yet know, in my opinion.) mud tracked in footsteps that could only be made by a child. "oh dear..." I whispered. The man's ear twitched slightly and hence, his sigh made absolute sense. He could tell, just by the whisper, that the person he showed through his door, was unprepared for the scene before them. He lead me into the main room, and sat down in a loafer, and gestured towards the coach, to where a glaring, pestulant chiled with horns sat, next to a platinum-blonde haired woman, who's figure made me feel, envious. I kept my thoughts to myself, and sat down in the unoccupied seat next to the assumed mother, and looked expectantly. It was the mother, as I learned with relative haste, who spoke first: "Hi, nice to meet you! I'm Katy, and that's Reginald," she noted, pointing at her husband with a practiced manner. "And, I would just like to say thank you for taking care of this little scamp." She said this with a light tone, but the way she said it gave off a more sinister feel to it, feeling like either aggression or irritation. I waved this aside in my mind while she continued to languishly spew the details: "Erik here, our troublemaker of a little boy, is a dangeer to himself, so you have to keep an eye on the boy. One time, I swear this isn't a fib, he tried to use a knife to cute his cute little fingers off. So, make sure to have him within your line of sight the entire time." She looked at the little boy with what amounted to a very cross look, which he returned with a tongue stuck out. She looked away, and looked back to her husband, who gave her a nod and a sigh, and she finished off speaking with: "Well, we best be getting off now, we need a break, we'll be gone all day, so make sure he's asleep by the time we get back. if he's not, we're not paying you." They then stood up, gave very... curt goodbyes to little Erik, before they sped out the door, leaving me with very little time for questions, and them an even smaller amount to answer, to which they decided not to. I sighed, and got to work. Apparently, so did little Erik. He jumped up off the couch, and ran into one of the rooms, and came back out with a bucket of different painting supplies. he ran around the room, before coming to a stop behind me. I felt a splash of a semi-sticky liquid running down the back of my jacket, and several more as I activated the magic of Anasi, my skin separating at the major muscles, and at the attachement muscles of my head and neck. I turned my head around at the little troglodyte, just in time to see his little face contort into a mixture of amusement and horror, as he came down from the jubilation of messing with people forcefully, as his intended target did in fact become his own personal canvas, but said canvas's head turned 180 degrees right around after many snapping sounds erupted. I turned my arms around to face the young boy, who was, of course, screaming and crying in objective horror, as the suspected normal person he was painting without self control, literally flipped their arms around to grab him from behind their back. I pulled him over my head, his face no longer making noise, though the face still making the most obscenely beautiful expression of terror I'd ever seen. I looked at him, dead in the eyes, and said: "Do you want to hear a story?" his eyes shot from pure terror, to confusion, to elation. He nodded slowly, and I pulled him into his room. The room was an even bigger mess then the rest of the house. I sat him back down onto the floor, and said: "If you want to hear a story, then you will clean your room. Is that clear?" He grumpily looked at me, then began to clean his room, much to my surprise. I turned away, and moved back out into the main room, and began to clean myself. I picked up toys, and put them in a toy chest I spotted earlier. then, I picked up the Bookcase that he had no doubt toppled over, set back up again, and replaced the books, in alphabetical order. After my two hours of cleaning the main room, and the kitchen, bathroom, master bedroom (Which didn't need as much work as I had put into it, but I try sometimes, just for the "screw it, why not?" factor.), and hallway, before the little tyke came back out and said that he'd finished. I looked at him, and then the time, which said 1 O'Clock. I nodded, and followed him in, and; while it was technically clean, the bedmaking was proposterously poor, to the point of near tears of disappointment in my eyes, but the floor was still coated in food pieces, and a nearby closet door groaned menacingly. I looked at him, and in the calmest of tones, said: "Is the room really clean?" He nodded in affirmation, to which he moved in front of me startlingly fast, when I moved over to open the closet door. He shook his head viciously, and then tried to stop me when I moved past him by grabbing onto my still paint-slick jacket. I opened it, and a cavalcade of detritous flowed out. clothes and toys alike, mish-mashed into the small space, giving the illusion of cleanliness, while the mess was still there. I sighed, and after picking up a laundry basket from the living room, began to gather the clothes. He looked at me confused, and then a little guilty at one point, before asking me what I was doing. I told him that the clothes needed to be done, one way or another, so I needed to do them. He shrugged then went off to his room, when I was in the middle of starting the first load. Once in, I started the cycle, and went bck to see the small boy sitting on his bed, playing a handheld game. I ignored him, and cleaned up the rest of the room, putting toys and such away with deft accuracy after finding their appropriate areas. After the laborious task, I checked the time, which had grown to the late 8:30, before I sat next to him with a sigh, and began asking him questions: "Why do you disobey your parents?" to which his answer was a grumble. "Why do you make a mess everywhere?" yet another grumble. This strand of questioning got me no where fast. I said one last thing, before I stood up. "Would you be willing to be a good boy, and wait here while I take a shower? If you do, I'll finally tell you that story." He shrugged, as I scuttled off to the newly-clean bathroom. I shut the door behind me, locking it so as he could not accidently open the door, and stripped. I started the shower, and after a few minutes, I felt the nice, hot water run along my skin. I found myself out of said shower after around 25-30 minutes, then redressed myself, after putting the pin back in my hair. undergarments came first, then a loose-fitting camisole, denim jeans, and comfy boots, ones with what basically amounted to Pseudo-pseudo fur. None the less, i then came out to a still clean house, and an eager child waiting in the living room. I sat down next to him, and began to tell my story, activating the power of Freya. "There was once a small boy who lived as a shepard. His flock were sheep, with their fluffy white wool. The boy himself was happy, but he liked to play tricks on the village." I spent time making the scene unfold before him with surprising accuracy, and a delighted little boy enraptured in the scene quite literally appearing before him magically. "His favorite thing was the play a prank on other shepards and villagers. He would shout: "Wolf! Wolf!" and he, and the other villagers, would race to his flock, to see them unharmed, and unthreatened. They would get mad, and he would make up an excuse, saying things like: "It must've ran away!" or the like. Afterwards, he would laugh. Then, after a few days of repeating this same prank, the people stopped listening to the boy. One day, he was confronted by an actual wolf. He ran and ran, back to the village shouting "Guys! There's an acutal wolf!" however, no one listened. The wolf, very real, had followed the Shepard boy, and ate him after he finished shouting. He died instantly, and the wolf died soon after. The villagers, instead of being sad that the boy had died, said he deserved it. They buried him outside the village, then went about their daily lives." after finishing, I left the image of a peasants' grave up for a few moments from dramatic effect, before letting it vanish and watching the boys' reaction. He looked positively horrified. I pat him on the head, and disappeared down the hall, and just listened when I was out of eyesight. The boy began to quietly sob tears of terror, and that continued until around 10, when I hugged him, and he calmed down. He walked with me to his room, and I told him a much nicer story to put him in the mood to sleep. he drifted off sometime around 11, and after he was asleep, around 10 minutes later, the parents came home. They were completely stunned to come home to a much cleaner house, and a quiet atmosphere. I was sitting on the reclining loafer chair when they came in, and were in shock. They asked what happened throughout the day. I told them what happened, and I apologized for using their shower. They were fine with it, as I had shown them the paint covered jacket, but they wondered whether or not he was asleep, to which I told, and showed them he was, well and truly asleep. They thanked me profusely, and handed me my payment, and I gave a light "you're welcome." I then made a new jacket around me, a windbreaker, for politeness' sake, and left the house, flying away and heading toward Motor City, and my appointment that would get me a vehicle license.
WC: 2260/750
Sorry, went overboard. >.>;
The day was long, my feet were tired, and the road was as bumpy as ever. I had received a job off of the board in Hargeon, which said I would basically be a babysitter. NO, I was to be a baby sitter, though it was my least favorite thing EVER. Children were annoying, rude, and invaded personal space like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. And this one seemed to be no better, (in fact far worse) then other children of their age. It was not an exciting prospect, nor a very enjoyable one for that matter, but it was easier, and far more lucrative in terms of the work, then say, getting along with two strangers in the middle of nowhere, underground, and fighting monsters. I mean, it gave me what basically amounted to a map that also boosted my power for some reason, whilst also gaing a captain's coat that currently sat in the bag on my side, my black messenger bag that acted as a pseudo-dimension for all my... more awkward items. Mostly, it contains parts of items I accrued from my adventures, as aforementioned I had those two lovely bits of interesting treasure, mechanical pieces, bark of strange trees, from Pandora, and more. However, I became less preoccupied with my bag, and more on the impending, and imposing gates of the city of Magnolia. They were tall, though unbarred; made of a stone type material, one that I could not find enough care in the world to actually care about it. I passed through with no issues, nigh surrounded by the mid-morning mob that had gathered along the roadside. They pushed and bodied their way along the smooth, antithetical stone streets that changed so rapidly, a neat divide marking the streets from the antiquated stone pathway. It was difficult, finding Katy's house among the throngs of similar houses sitting next to one another. It took the better part of the morning, the only marking of difference of Katy's house to the rest that stood around it was the... unkempt nature of the exterior of the house. The grass was tall, wild and full of Lion's grass, and the house had cobwebs lining the exterior. I made the mental note, and the audible gulp, that someone who was regretting prior decisions would make. "Well, lets get this over with." I said quietly. I knocked on the door, to a frazzled man, brown hair, tall, and with uneven stubble lining his face. His eyes perked up at the sight of me standing just past the doorway. His gravelly, and exceptionally tired sounding voice spoke up quietly, saying: "Are you... the Babysitter?" I nodded and he motioned me inside. The house itself was a mess, the main room was littered with toys, and the hallway the man and I were stood in was a mess, the walls were colored on, (depicting things a child should not yet know, in my opinion.) mud tracked in footsteps that could only be made by a child. "oh dear..." I whispered. The man's ear twitched slightly and hence, his sigh made absolute sense. He could tell, just by the whisper, that the person he showed through his door, was unprepared for the scene before them. He lead me into the main room, and sat down in a loafer, and gestured towards the coach, to where a glaring, pestulant chiled with horns sat, next to a platinum-blonde haired woman, who's figure made me feel, envious. I kept my thoughts to myself, and sat down in the unoccupied seat next to the assumed mother, and looked expectantly. It was the mother, as I learned with relative haste, who spoke first: "Hi, nice to meet you! I'm Katy, and that's Reginald," she noted, pointing at her husband with a practiced manner. "And, I would just like to say thank you for taking care of this little scamp." She said this with a light tone, but the way she said it gave off a more sinister feel to it, feeling like either aggression or irritation. I waved this aside in my mind while she continued to languishly spew the details: "Erik here, our troublemaker of a little boy, is a dangeer to himself, so you have to keep an eye on the boy. One time, I swear this isn't a fib, he tried to use a knife to cute his cute little fingers off. So, make sure to have him within your line of sight the entire time." She looked at the little boy with what amounted to a very cross look, which he returned with a tongue stuck out. She looked away, and looked back to her husband, who gave her a nod and a sigh, and she finished off speaking with: "Well, we best be getting off now, we need a break, we'll be gone all day, so make sure he's asleep by the time we get back. if he's not, we're not paying you." They then stood up, gave very... curt goodbyes to little Erik, before they sped out the door, leaving me with very little time for questions, and them an even smaller amount to answer, to which they decided not to. I sighed, and got to work. Apparently, so did little Erik. He jumped up off the couch, and ran into one of the rooms, and came back out with a bucket of different painting supplies. he ran around the room, before coming to a stop behind me. I felt a splash of a semi-sticky liquid running down the back of my jacket, and several more as I activated the magic of Anasi, my skin separating at the major muscles, and at the attachement muscles of my head and neck. I turned my head around at the little troglodyte, just in time to see his little face contort into a mixture of amusement and horror, as he came down from the jubilation of messing with people forcefully, as his intended target did in fact become his own personal canvas, but said canvas's head turned 180 degrees right around after many snapping sounds erupted. I turned my arms around to face the young boy, who was, of course, screaming and crying in objective horror, as the suspected normal person he was painting without self control, literally flipped their arms around to grab him from behind their back. I pulled him over my head, his face no longer making noise, though the face still making the most obscenely beautiful expression of terror I'd ever seen. I looked at him, dead in the eyes, and said: "Do you want to hear a story?" his eyes shot from pure terror, to confusion, to elation. He nodded slowly, and I pulled him into his room. The room was an even bigger mess then the rest of the house. I sat him back down onto the floor, and said: "If you want to hear a story, then you will clean your room. Is that clear?" He grumpily looked at me, then began to clean his room, much to my surprise. I turned away, and moved back out into the main room, and began to clean myself. I picked up toys, and put them in a toy chest I spotted earlier. then, I picked up the Bookcase that he had no doubt toppled over, set back up again, and replaced the books, in alphabetical order. After my two hours of cleaning the main room, and the kitchen, bathroom, master bedroom (Which didn't need as much work as I had put into it, but I try sometimes, just for the "screw it, why not?" factor.), and hallway, before the little tyke came back out and said that he'd finished. I looked at him, and then the time, which said 1 O'Clock. I nodded, and followed him in, and; while it was technically clean, the bedmaking was proposterously poor, to the point of near tears of disappointment in my eyes, but the floor was still coated in food pieces, and a nearby closet door groaned menacingly. I looked at him, and in the calmest of tones, said: "Is the room really clean?" He nodded in affirmation, to which he moved in front of me startlingly fast, when I moved over to open the closet door. He shook his head viciously, and then tried to stop me when I moved past him by grabbing onto my still paint-slick jacket. I opened it, and a cavalcade of detritous flowed out. clothes and toys alike, mish-mashed into the small space, giving the illusion of cleanliness, while the mess was still there. I sighed, and after picking up a laundry basket from the living room, began to gather the clothes. He looked at me confused, and then a little guilty at one point, before asking me what I was doing. I told him that the clothes needed to be done, one way or another, so I needed to do them. He shrugged then went off to his room, when I was in the middle of starting the first load. Once in, I started the cycle, and went bck to see the small boy sitting on his bed, playing a handheld game. I ignored him, and cleaned up the rest of the room, putting toys and such away with deft accuracy after finding their appropriate areas. After the laborious task, I checked the time, which had grown to the late 8:30, before I sat next to him with a sigh, and began asking him questions: "Why do you disobey your parents?" to which his answer was a grumble. "Why do you make a mess everywhere?" yet another grumble. This strand of questioning got me no where fast. I said one last thing, before I stood up. "Would you be willing to be a good boy, and wait here while I take a shower? If you do, I'll finally tell you that story." He shrugged, as I scuttled off to the newly-clean bathroom. I shut the door behind me, locking it so as he could not accidently open the door, and stripped. I started the shower, and after a few minutes, I felt the nice, hot water run along my skin. I found myself out of said shower after around 25-30 minutes, then redressed myself, after putting the pin back in my hair. undergarments came first, then a loose-fitting camisole, denim jeans, and comfy boots, ones with what basically amounted to Pseudo-pseudo fur. None the less, i then came out to a still clean house, and an eager child waiting in the living room. I sat down next to him, and began to tell my story, activating the power of Freya. "There was once a small boy who lived as a shepard. His flock were sheep, with their fluffy white wool. The boy himself was happy, but he liked to play tricks on the village." I spent time making the scene unfold before him with surprising accuracy, and a delighted little boy enraptured in the scene quite literally appearing before him magically. "His favorite thing was the play a prank on other shepards and villagers. He would shout: "Wolf! Wolf!" and he, and the other villagers, would race to his flock, to see them unharmed, and unthreatened. They would get mad, and he would make up an excuse, saying things like: "It must've ran away!" or the like. Afterwards, he would laugh. Then, after a few days of repeating this same prank, the people stopped listening to the boy. One day, he was confronted by an actual wolf. He ran and ran, back to the village shouting "Guys! There's an acutal wolf!" however, no one listened. The wolf, very real, had followed the Shepard boy, and ate him after he finished shouting. He died instantly, and the wolf died soon after. The villagers, instead of being sad that the boy had died, said he deserved it. They buried him outside the village, then went about their daily lives." after finishing, I left the image of a peasants' grave up for a few moments from dramatic effect, before letting it vanish and watching the boys' reaction. He looked positively horrified. I pat him on the head, and disappeared down the hall, and just listened when I was out of eyesight. The boy began to quietly sob tears of terror, and that continued until around 10, when I hugged him, and he calmed down. He walked with me to his room, and I told him a much nicer story to put him in the mood to sleep. he drifted off sometime around 11, and after he was asleep, around 10 minutes later, the parents came home. They were completely stunned to come home to a much cleaner house, and a quiet atmosphere. I was sitting on the reclining loafer chair when they came in, and were in shock. They asked what happened throughout the day. I told them what happened, and I apologized for using their shower. They were fine with it, as I had shown them the paint covered jacket, but they wondered whether or not he was asleep, to which I told, and showed them he was, well and truly asleep. They thanked me profusely, and handed me my payment, and I gave a light "you're welcome." I then made a new jacket around me, a windbreaker, for politeness' sake, and left the house, flying away and heading toward Motor City, and my appointment that would get me a vehicle license.
WC: 2260/750
Sorry, went overboard. >.>;
