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Post by Westley Walters-Kirkland on Aug 30, 2015 19:31:29 GMT -8
Wes tensed, heavily gnawed fingernails digging into the cushion of the arm rest as the hairstylist began to snip away at his chestnut locks. He was nervous, oh so nervous that he genuinely wondered if there was a chance he would vomit. At least the drape would keep his clothing somewhat presentable in that case? It certainly was not the silver lining one would want to focus on.
However the man began to work away at his soft curls with an impressive grace, one that he had never experienced before. The blond's slim fingers stroked through his hair, delicate and light against his scalp with a delicate touch. The anticipation that had built up in his stomach started to fade, the terrors that he recalled as a child nothing like the experience he was being offered here in the chair. It was calm, serene, and he allowed his eyes to slip closed, growing visibly relaxed in contrast to mere minutes before. It wasn't like his aunt or his mother's work, cutting off as much as they could reach to keep his hair from growing too long and becoming bothersome. Each snip of the shears from them was hurried, a race to get as much done as they could before he grew too fussy about sitting still. The stylist's work was precise and balanced, a moment's pause before each little snip of the shears.
"I don't like the way scissors sound" Westley confessed, wanting to slump back lazily into the chair now that he had calmed enough to notice it was rather comfortable. He didn't. Even with his new found tranquility the thought of moving too suddenly and having an ear lopped off was terrifying. "They're sharp, hurried, like bees buzzing around my ears and far too high pitched. They're unnerving?" His head slumped over to the side for a moment uncertainly, before the teen caught himself and snapped right back into it's prior position.
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Post by Westley Walters-Kirkland on Aug 30, 2015 19:13:40 GMT -8
It was true, the school had likely notified him immediately that he had been admitted, it was the usual policy places held in such situations. However, Kyle was indeed at work at this time of day and he certainly did not want to drag him away from it for something he considered so petty. It wasn't petty, he knew better, but having his sibling dragged out so often to care for him was slowly starting to churn into guilt. Westley who never felt the slightest bit of discomfort eating someone else's snacks was starting to grow uncomfortable with what he felt was taking advantage of kindness. Kyle hadn't even know that he was in London at first, the Australian had likely not anticipated he would grow to be the Kiwi's primary caregiver.
What had happened to the independent adult he had been these last few years, scraping by with so little and never asking for any real help. As much as he hated to think about it, Wes was certainly beginning to rely on Kyle a little too much. He had gone through this all before, but now even as he knew better than to yearn for his sibling to drop everything for him, he couldn't help but feel unhappy that he hadn't arrived yet.
His eyes drifted back into focus and examined the changed program, the cooking show without a doubt and thankfully more entertaining than the soaps. It was making him hungry though, roast beef and potatoes saturated in fat and butter. He hadn't eaten the sandwich Kyle had made him for lunch had he?
The Kiwi scooted up into an awkward sitting position and glanced at the pretty nurse beside him, casting her a radiant smile. "You wouldn't happen to..." he took a sharp, having started the sentence too strong and neglected to pace himself. "To have juice or water on hand to drink? Am I allowed any? My throat hurts just a bit."
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Post by Westley Walters-Kirkland on Jul 20, 2015 14:36:08 GMT -8
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Post by Westley Walters-Kirkland on Jul 16, 2015 17:18:10 GMT -8
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Post by Westley Walters-Kirkland on Jul 4, 2015 6:35:03 GMT -8
Arthur Kirkland No drinking restraining needed. If you'd like to start it would be quite wonderful.
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Post by Westley Walters-Kirkland on Jun 28, 2015 20:54:31 GMT -8
The teenager gave a slight nod at his words, running his fingers back nervously through his hair as he evaluated the task being given. It hardly seemed to be a tasking ordeal, just a simple delivery to a predetermined point and back to pick up his reward. And it wasn't anything suspicious, just dinner, he could hardly see why the driver saw fit to warn him in such an ominous way. If he had been a more paranoid person he would most certainly be worried sick, but any fears that the Kiwi held were quelled within moments. Westley wanted to get Kyle a marvelous gift, and that yearning trumped any irrational fears brought on by shady truck delivery men.
"Number 15HW84TW" he repeated once, before starting to chant it under his breath every few moments so that he wouldn't forget it. And then, with a cheery incline of his head to the delivery man he stepped off towards the nearby cluster of grim industrial buildings. 15HW84TW..." the Kiwi murmured, pressing his nose into his shoulder for a moment to rub away the feeling of it running like a faucet. He really should have brought a scarf with him, but there was nothing to be done about it now. Heading off home just for a simple piece of clothing was certainly a tremendous waste of time, and the food would be long cold by then. It was a task offered up to him and he would most certainly complete it! For Kyle's sake if not for simply his own satisfaction at having done something significant.
"15HW8...." his eyes scanned the plates on the side of each warehouse he slowly drifted past, nearly ten minutes passing until he started to reach a sequence that started to sound familiar. Ignoring any sounds about him he turned down the alley, the weight of the bag's contents stretching the handles taut over his fingers. "81.....82..."
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Post by Westley Walters-Kirkland on Jun 28, 2015 17:53:59 GMT -8
“Make you tea? Is that all you’ve got to say for yourself? Do you have any idea what I...”
Westley stared at him in momentary confusion, loosening his hold to slip back down into his pillow's comforting embrace. Kyle yelled, sure he did, Westley had a natural talent for driving him to raise his voice to be heard over the endless stubborn streak he harbored. However,this wasn't Kyle's usual yelling, the man's voice hardly raised in the slightest. The only emotion that seasoned it was worn hollow exasperation. His brother sounded utterly defeated, and that was far more frightening than any blasting rage that one could image. It was silent, an icy grip of guilt that clamped around his chest and seemed to restrict his breathing more than usual, more than the more than usual of today.
Then again, outside of the tone he hardly understood why Kyle would behave in such a manner to a simple request of tea. Somehow he received the feeling though that it was his fault, and blindly reacted as such to regain one of the few people he truly cared for's affection.
"Kyle..." he called out into the dim hallway through the half open door, the teen lying on his side with the neutralizer mask digging into the bridge of his nose. "Kyle can I have a painkiller?" It was a simpler request, one that he certainly couldn't see unintentionally harassing Kyle in any which way. Yet, after a few moments of silence he wasn't quite sure if he had been properly heard. The teenager leaned forward, eyes narrowed whilst he focused on listening for any sounds of footsteps on the stairs, or any footsteps at all for that matter. All that met the Kiwi's ears though was utter crushing silence, a rarity in the house like none other between the parrot and the howler monkey.
"Kyle?!" he called again, raising his voice a few decibels to be sure that he was being heard. "Kyle! KYLE!" With each moment of silence Westley grew more and more desperate, raising his voice to such a pitch that it left his throat feeling as if he was swallowing handfuls of crushed glass with someone slapping his lungs with a golf club. Energy wasted he fell back, a whistle and a wheeze to accompany the rise and fall of his chest.
"Kyle..."
He pressed his face into Daffyd's side, taking deep breaths and counting along with the clock to keep himself grounded and measured.
One. Two. In.
Three. Four. Out.
Then repeat.
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Post by Westley Walters-Kirkland on May 31, 2015 13:22:58 GMT -8
So we had an event in my city where all the restaurants come out into little booths and you buy tickets to get cheap little samples of their food.  [Cute little advertisement for a pop up lunch]  Swordfish Skewers  Spicy Tuna Roll & Cucumber Avocado Roll  Super tasty beet soup   |
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Post by Westley Walters-Kirkland on May 23, 2015 18:58:55 GMT -8
It took a while for the shock of the whole incident to even mildly blow over, Kyle still furious in his disappointment at how careless he had been once he returned to the realm of the living. By the time the Kiwi had fully come they had already arrived home, his brother gingerly lifting him up out of the seat to be carried inside as his eyes blurred back into focus. He blinked, ridding himself of the gritty feeling as his mind readjusted itself to accommodate his situation, chest burning as he forced his breathing to stay even. Westley allowed himself to be momentarily babied, not directly addressing Kyle to let him know that he had come to, instead simply pressing his cheek to his chest while he focused on breathing and the familiar presence.
In and out. In and out. Slowly, surely, counting between each movement of his chest to keep it steady. Charlie went forgotten in his mind, as did the unfortunate cake they had abandoned in the store window. His mind was a mirror, aware of what it could see, yet not acknowledging nor processing anything below the surface. He waited until he was set down on his bed to sit up, gripping the headboard with a fist and straining whilst he held his breath and peered around. The back of his head stung, horridly so, and with a little investigation he was surprised to find a rather impressive goose egg nestled snugly behind the fine chestnut hair.
It was Daffyd who eventually alerted Kyle of his waking, letting out a harsh bleat as he rose onto his hind hooves for a moment and nuzzled his side in the usual comforting ovine manner. And it was only then that Wes decided to address him, and quell the worries that were likely spinning in his stomach that he wasn't alright. Well, he wasn't alright, but he wasn't that badly not alright, that sounded better. "Can you make a spot of tea?" the Kiwi rasped out, rather surprised at how raw his throat felt now that he had spoken, he didn't remember yelling. "With honey..."
The manner which he addressed the incident was rather casual, if it could even be called addressing it. Everything prior to what felt like a rather pained sleep had an almost ethereal quality to it, a dream, stuffed with cotton and hardly terrifying. He could remember it now, and falling back had almost felt like he was sinking back into Kyle's bed after a day of terrorizing him endlessly as a child.
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Post by Westley Walters-Kirkland on Feb 25, 2015 22:56:32 GMT -8
Wes gave the two of them the stink eye as he stared at the two conversing in private, obviously attempting to keep him from overhearing. He didn't like the way she leaned in to speak with him so familiarly,and the way she had led him away by his elbow with such ease. It just irritated him so much, Kyle never treated him like some sort of ignorant toddler that was being hidden from the truth of an upcoming injection. It was an instant dislike blossoming in the pit of his stomach, eyes narrowing as he tugged his pursed lips into a gentle smile.
He wanted to be home, warm on the sofa with Kyle and Daffyd on either side of him for the perfect level of family comfort. And that was the only reason he didn't hurry over to overhear, because without a doubt she would drag his cousin off elsewhere and just start again. So he focused on that as he impatiently bounced on his heels and gripped Daffy's fleece, moving with him for Kyle the second that the adults broke apart. He would stick close this time and not leave an opening for her to do such a thing again. That was to be sure.
"I would think if you would have had the time to take a dive off into the river you would have the time to walk" the boy mused innocently as he glanced over at the taxi. It would be easy for Kyle to pick up that Westley was irritated, even if the reason was hard to detect. To be honest he had the least to complain about in this situation, as he was the dry one, dressed in proper clothing, and not feeling as if he had swam a marathon quite yet. Though, with the latter one he was sure that it would come with time, especially with this...woman wanting to press her palms to their backs and rush them along out of nowhere. He would talk along as he usually did, and if she wanted him to hurry she could carry his stubborn self.
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Post by Westley Walters-Kirkland on Feb 18, 2015 21:25:16 GMT -8
Thump. . .
Thump. . .
Thump. . .
Westley's pulse throbbed, the only noise he could decipher through the endless buzzing in his ears. It was almost like he was watching the world from outside himself, through a thick pane of glass that sliced off all sound and left Charlie flapping her lips like a fish. Her eyes were wide and lips suddenly pursed into a tight line of self control, brown globes staring unblinkingly at the Kiwi sprawled back on the pavement with his chest heaving.
He felt strangely heavy for one built so slight, any movement feeling strangely muffled like he was sinking into a giant vat of lard. One would think that it would be warm floating in a pool of such a substance that melted easily with contact of body heat, that the longer he lay there the easier it would be to free himself from it's clutches. Yet with each moment he felt heavier, vision growing fuzzy and slowly turning to static. Something was wrong, he knew it very well but for some reason Westley didn't feel afraid. The cold was calming, enveloping him as he slipped back into it's gentle embrace. He had assumed that it would be frightening to die, but all he could focus on was how comfortable it was to just fade away without the pain he had feared.
His eyes were half lidded, unfocused slits of green peeking through as an unnatural rasping was ground out from his throat. The little scene had certainly caught the attention of those that were idly passing by, one or two getting out their cellulars and hurriedly calling an ambulance as they stood at a distance. It was almost as if people were afraid it was some sort of contagious disease afflicting the fallen Kiwi. In fact that was exactly what was feared, with a pertussis outbreak in the news a few months earlier people still were on edge. After all it had been said that even vaccinated children had been some of the ones infected by it. Who would want to risk their health at catching a possibly mutated deadly disease?
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Post by Westley Walters-Kirkland on Feb 16, 2015 17:35:12 GMT -8
{Museum of Wildthingies}  Owly Ones  More Owly Ones  'murica  More birdies  More 'murica  U WOT M8  It's a wolverineeeeeeeeeeeeeeee  Turkeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey  Disgruntled Beaver  That's a hedgehog bro  Evil little shits of cuteness  Big feet bunny -w-  Creepy Possum Orgy |
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Post by Westley Walters-Kirkland on Feb 11, 2015 10:29:45 GMT -8
Going to toss up my hand and nominate Dreamwidth, which is better a livejournal, and where the majority of LJ communities have migrated to.
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Post by Westley Walters-Kirkland on Dec 17, 2014 18:58:01 GMT -8
Kyle's birthday had been quickly approaching, and the Kiwi was more than positive that the pigheaded oaf had forgotten about it in the recent whirlwind of events. There had been the kidnapping, fighting with his father, Charlie, and worst of all Nessie the irritating woman sticking her nose in where it did not belong. Honestly he hated her, coming around and bothering Kyle with that ugly arse face and smile, it was a good thing that Kyle was occupied with so many other things to keep his mind off of his birthday. If she stuffed herself in between this family event too he wouldn't know how he would be able to contain himself, it was hard enough tolerating her casually.
Yet that wasn't what was important.
Now was the time for elaborate schemes, surprises, and best of all family warmth. He even had his own little Charlie to help him with the preparations, she seemed to have a knack for styles and such that he would never understand, and stepped right along with his plan. Firstly they needed the cake, something wild and ridiculous that would make his brother's eyes bug out in curiosity and the endless temptation of something new to delve into. Then of course came the presents, which was their ultimate goal to be achieved before dinner. It wasn't like they had procrastinated on getting him a gift or anything, it was just that they may had waited a few weeks too long to become productive.
Charlie of course wanted to pick out the cake first, and he wandered about with her past numerous elaborate displays, chatting lightly as they tried to find something that fit both the budget and their needs. Anything chocolate was obviously off the table, the dog that Kyle had temporarily at home would be able to slobber up a slice safely like that. It wasn't like his brother had some profound love for the flavor anyways.
The attack though was gradual this time, a tightness in his chest that he chose to ignore, it seemed just like every other day that passed. But it was the walking that was the end of him, wandering about the city with Charlie far more strenuous than he had originally imagined, the Kiwi straining to keep his breathing even as he rested against the shop window. Charlie wasn't aware of just how sick he was, Kyle made a point never to make mention of it and Wes simply didn't want to speak of it. So he pushed himself, not wanting to frighten her, relying on his willpower to get him home.
Yet it seemed willpower wasn't enough to help if his body failed him, especially with how shallowly he breathed to keep her from noticing anything out of the ordinary. Spots appeared before his eyes as he leaned against the display window, enjoying the chill on his skin that seemed to assist in keeping him alert for Charlie's numerous questions, taking a deep breath to answer her latest.
"It's...uh..." he raised a hand to his mouth as he suddenly started to cough uncontrollably, a vile honk coming from his throat with each one, almost like the chirp of a seal if put through a grinder. The Kiwi's face was painted red as he struggled to regain control, fingers twitching and stiffening as the tips numbed. Everything just seemed to...freeze. His feet fell out from under him and he toppled over, head hitting the pavement directly with the teen far too gone to muster the strength to cushion it with his arms.
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Post by Westley Walters-Kirkland on Dec 7, 2014 23:16:48 GMT -8
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