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“W-Well, then— then I’m leavin’! And I’m never gonna come back!”
“Oh, yeah? Then go ahead, young m— lady! Go and survive in the real world.”
“I-I will!” Marjorine stomped her foot, glaring up at her dad. “‘Nd I’ll do just fine!”
“Fine!”
“Fine!”
She huffed, storming out of the house with a backpack slung over each shoulder. She looked at hed house, seething, like it’d been the reason for all of this, taking one step, two, three steps away from the house.
Four steps.
Five steps.
Six steps, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, going too fast that she couldn’t track every time her foot hit the frozen-over sidewalk. She shivered, watching the cold rain still melt through the snow, making little holes all around, dampening her clothes and hair and face where she couldn’t tell if she was sweating, crying, or just getting rained on. She went until it hurt to breathe — although, it didn’t take that long; she was never the most athletic. She escaped to the forest, trying to look for the specific tree she’d always sat by. At least she’d be able to have some shelter there.
Sniffling, hiccuping, she kept trying to dry her face as she walked around in the slush, unable to find where the tree was. Did she go too far?
“What’re you doing out here, man?”
She shrieked, jumping backwards and stumbling into the snow, falling on her rear, dampening her dress further. She looked around, trying to delay a confrontation, taking a few deep breaths as she eventually stared up at the man the voice had come from. Black, messy hair with bleached tips, tan skin and hazel eyes. He looked down at her with narrow eyes and furrowed eyebrows, leaning closer and taking a small sniff. “Weren’t you here earlier? I told you to keep quiet, dude!”
She whimpered, scooting back, whole body quivering. “I didn’ tell, promise! ‘S not— I didn’t—“ Her breath came in short gasps and pants, time moving too fast for her. “Please, please, I didn’t tell a’yone,” she pleaded, crying messily as she kept wiping her tears with a wet hand.
He just stared. He didn’t say anything, nothing at all. Neither did she, her mouth frozen in a slight O. It would’ve been silent, save for Marjorine’s shaky breaths and the rain falling against the now mushy snow. She didn’t know if she wanted him to care for her, or berate her, she just knew that simply staring, ignoring her, felt so much worse. “‘S not— you—“ She doesn’t even know what she was planning on saying. She just wants him to go away.
No she doesn’t.
Her chest heaves as she grips onto something, something fuzzy. It nips at her hand, like the cold, but it’s a rather soothing texture as her fingers cling onto it tightly.
He winces, gripping onto her wrist and trying to detach her grip. “No, dude, fuck—“ his nose scrunches in slight pain, her hands letting go and scrambling to hold onto something else. She looks up at him, teary-eyed, cheeks and nose a rosy flush.
He’s got ears — but not normal ones. They’re gray and pointed, sticking closer to the top of his head rather than the side. There’s little brown marks running down his nose, his face having a round, almost friendly look, while being sharp and firm. It’s full of contrasts that mesh well, if Marjorine could actually really comprehend what she was doing right now. His hair is jet-black, with blond tips at the end and split ends, clearly unkept and unbrushed. “..You alright?”
“Puppy,” is all she says, a quiet murmur as she stares at him, full of wonder. She reaches a hand out for his nose, two fingers tracing down the bridge.
“Not puppy,” he mutters, chuckling slightly. “Uh. Can you say, uhh. Stan?”
She grumbles, yawning. He sighs, thinking for a second before scooping her up, walking her to somewhere.
“You don’t have some place to stay?”
She looked up at him blearily with the slightest shake of her head, nuzzling close to him, feeling his warmth, hearing his heartbeat, smelling the oddly comforting scent of dirt and snow and something else she couldn’t really identify.
“Gonna take that as a no, okay. So you’re staying with me, or—?”
Marjorine made a small, sleepy murmur, her brain feeling like mush, slipping into what was hopefully slumber as her shoulders slumped and she went limp in his hold, her face tear-stained but weirdly content.
“Alright, then. Doesn’t help, but, alright.”
Stan sighed. He was beyond freezing, too, but it wasn’t like he was passed out or anything.
“G’night, I guess.” It wasn’t like it was really that dark out or anything, but he wouldn’t be surprised if she stayed out for the rest of the night. It was whatever, though.
They’d have more time to talk later, anyway.