You'll Go Out In Style

[Ember Thistle Grant]

DON’T LOOK UP JUST LET THEM THINK
THERE’S NO PLACE ELSE YOU’D RATHER BE

[/justify]

AND NOW YOU CAN’T TURN BACK CAUSE

[/color][/font]
THIS ROAD IS ALL YOU’LL EVER HAVE[/size][/color][/font]

It had been a very long week for the twenty three year old hospital mortician. The hospital had been busy and with her ‘mentor’ off on vacation for a week, Ember had felt swamped with the amount of corpses that came her way with the causes of death to be established. Luckily, it was the weekend now and the young woman had a chance to relax and one of Ember’s favourite ways to relax was to take a walk into the centre of the town and check out the vendor stalls around the mall. They always sold lots of cute pieces of jewellery that she simply couldn’t resist buying when she had the spare money for them.
Growing up with nothing meant that Ember often saved her money just in case any emergencies came about. She was the only member of her family who she knew who even had a decent job and had worked hard to get it, no thanks to her indifferent parents who held no interest for her life. She didn’t spare any thoughts for them though anymore.

The tall blonde moved through the bustling crowds with ease. When she was younger she despised her growth spurt that left her towering about most of the people in her class. Even at university she was in league with most of the guys when it came to height. It didn’t make dating easy, not that she really dated much at all back then or even now. However, in crowd situations, her height had its advantages. People could easily find her if they lost her and she was very much noticeable when she needed people to move out of her way. With the addition of boots, Ember easily reached six foot and boots were almost an essential part to every outfit she owned. In fact, the only footwear she owned other than boots were a comfortable pair of sneakers that she wore for kickboxing and other messier pursuits. So yes, one of the things people often asked her about was her height, which was way above average for a female.

After bringing her mind back to earth, she turned to look at the simplistic jewellery that was on sale at the nearest vendor. Each piece was delicate and detailed with an array of colours that would bring almost any outfit to life. She picked up a necklace with a large teardrop shaped stone hanging from the silver chain. She studied it for a few moments, passing it through her hands, allowing the cool stone to warm in her hold. She smiled to no one in particular and handed over the crisp note to pay for the piece before slipping it into her bag. She moved her blonde waves from her dark blue eyes and then moved on, slipping inside the mall for a look around.
More often than not, Ember didn’t buy anything. She simply browsed, noting the differences between the shops inside and the items they sold. Sometimes, she’d treat herself to a nice top or a new pair of boots, but for now, Ember was content with her small, but nice wardrobe. Her job paid her well, but she wasn’t the type of girl who’d blow all her money on clothes. No, she preferred to spend her money on maintaining her bike or her 22. calibre gun. They were the two most precious things in her life and the two things that rarely let her down.

After buying and eating a veggie burger for her lunch, the tall blonde made her way back outside. There was no point in hanging around the mall if she was alone with no plans to meet with anyone else. Besides, there was an interesting medical journal that lay on her coffee table and Ember had yet to start reading it with all the work she had been doing in the past week. The street was unusually warm for this time of year, which suited her well. She had forgotten to pick up her jacket and the warm weather would make the ride to her apartment more bearable. That was the downside to being a biker. There was no protection from the harsh elements and leaving without a jacket was probably one of the stupidest things the young woman could possibly do.

She spotted her bike in the distance and reached down to her bag to fish out her keys, her long golden locks of hair blocking her vision momentarily as she searched past her phone, tissues and other things in her search for the silver keys.
[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

tagged Dexter!
words 797
outfit clicky!
lyrics Fences by Paramore
notes - - -

[DEXTER NELSON WILLOW]

Ah, the weekend. It was just as busy as the week, usually. If his nights were busy working, then he'd set out on the weekend and take pictures for his portfolios. Most ended up in the area of 'bad', and 'blurry' to him, so he tossed them out. Or in the area of 'people's scalps' which wasn't always a great focus for pictures. Birds eye was one thing, but constant birds eye was another.

After a bad incident in the park about a week ago, Dexter decided it would be much safer to take pictures in the mall. He didn't run the risk of anyone jumping onto his head from a tree if he was in the mall, and he still had some minor cuts on the side of his cheek to prove that some madman had decided to try and do away with a witness. No, no, a mall was much safer for the country boy. Around the mall, in the mall, near the mall. Lots of people and no trees. Sounded good to him. He grabbed his camera and put it in the chest pocket of his shirt, where it would be safe from anything he ran into. Not a lot was at chest height. Sometimes heads of taller people. But not a lot else. His wallet went in his pants packet and he was out of the dorm room door, straight for the bus stop. Learning to drive was not something he’d bothered with. Cars were painful, motorcycles miniature. Buses, provided he stood, gave him some space. At seven foot seven and claustrophobic, buses were the best thing possible in transportation that currently existed. Besides, who would care if he didn’t sit down? He’d only jam his knees, legs or limbs, into someone by mistake.

He reached the mall, ducked the door, and entered the air-conditioned center. He pulled out his camera, and began to wander aimlessly. He didn't really look at the stores for what they had, but for interesting situations. Things that provoked thought. Things that would make a worthy photograph; ones that would make him feel worthwhile and help him pass the course. Of course, looking for these things was a little much for Dexter to handle as well as walking most of the time. He banged his shins into kiosks, railing, baby strollers and nearly a small child, looking a bumbling tourist more than a student. He didn't look like a tourist that much, with no bags or anything of the like, messy brown hair and a clear indication that he did know the layout of the mall...albeit not how to avoid bits of it.

Dexter eventually settled himself down on a bench, taking picutres from the eye level of others. He took a picutre of a little boy offering his ice cream (or at least a lick) to his grandmother, a couple chatting as they walked along, the reflection of people from the polished floors and ceilings, a tall girl walking above the crowd. That was a change. Most of the ladies Dexter knew were no more than five foot five; his best friend was only five three. Unusual, but Dexter thought it good. Being tall was a good thing, but being a giant...well, not so much. His back was twinging a bit today, no different from most days where it did so.

He stuck around there for a time, before heaving himself up and taking a lunch break. He decided on some good old fashioned fries and a burger. Maybe not the healthiest, but it filled him up, wasn't expensive, and wasn't Kraft Dinner. Deciding he'd had enough of the mall, he got up and headed outdoors. He'd take pictures in the parking lot, he'd just have to avoid license plates. Not hard to do when you were his size, not hard to do at all. Car roofs glimmered in the sunlight up at him, and he took a few pictures to see what they'd be like. His eyes were squinted in the sun, pictures marred by the glare. Nope, nope, nope. No good. He want on walking, out further where things were less crowded. He could smell people smoking form behind a dumpster. Yuck. It reminded him of the day he'd met Merrick, a tiny drunk on a snowy street he really shouldn't have been on-

Dexter's shins collided with something, and he looked down, leaping up. He looked like a cartoon character, arms splayed, kicking valiantly at the air, then crashing down. He'd managed to jump over the motorbike, but his toe slipped the seat and it crashed down; onto Dexter. Thankfully, the bike hadn't been destroyed. Or damaged, as far as he could tell in his mess of limbs and bike. His camera clattered away, causing him to wince from where he was on the pavement, and then sigh when it came to a halt at someone's feet, presumably the owner of the bike, and incidentally, the tall lady he had seen. "I am so, so,so, so so sorry." He told her in his too-deep voice, looking up from the pavement. "I should probably purchase shin protectors and look down more often."

---------------
words| 904
tagged| Kim / Ember
notes| So much for good first impressions. XD

[Ember Thistle Grant]

DON’T LOOK UP JUST LET THEM THINK
THERE’S NO PLACE ELSE YOU’D RATHER BE

[/justify]

AND NOW YOU CAN’T TURN BACK CAUSE

[/color][/font]
THIS ROAD IS ALL YOU’LL EVER HAVE[/size][/color][/font]

There had been a lot going on in the town recently. Ember didn’t often tune into the news, but it was kind of hard to avoid the gossip on the papers, the televisions and the radios. Some guy was going around attacking a bunch of the locals, mainly the college students. Ember understood the fear that would fill most of the people. No one wanted to be attacked or hurt and she didn’t blame the mothers for calling their children home early or the people who were suddenly investing in pepper spray and other kinds of defensive objects. There were a few stalls in the mall selling such things and if Ember didn’t carry a gun or wasn’t skilled in kickboxing then there was a strong chance she’d react just the same. However, her life hadn’t been an easy one and the first thing she learnt was how to take care of herself. Despite knowing she was well protected against any lunatic, Ember still wasn’t going to roam the streets or play the hero. She wanted to stay as far away as possible from this drama.
She’d fought of the occasional unwanted advances from guys in bars, but she wasn’t at all willing to take on a guy who was making the headlines with his frequent and brutal attacks on the locals.

Ember dealt with enough death on a day to day basis without needing to see it in the news or on the streets. Sure, most of the people she saw had died from medical complications, not murder, but still, a corpse was a corpse. They weren’t pleasant things and to the people who weren’t used to them, they were enough to make lunch revisit you. It never bothered her though. Ember had a surprisingly strong stomach when it came to gore. It was just the thought of her own death that she couldn’t handle very well.

She watched around the mall as she moved about, smiling when children tried to persuade their mothers into buying a new toy or game. Ember never did that as a child, mainly because her mother was usually too drunk to care about what her daughter was doing. Her days were spent in her room, making up stories and games with the few things that she did have.
However, they were days and thoughts that Ember didn’t think about anymore and shook her mind of them, shaking her head to in the process, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders and tickling the exposed skin.

She thought about what else she could do on a peaceful Saturday afternoon as she walked across the concrete parking lot. Her beeper was silent and she hoped it would stay that way. Weekends were her time off, but unfortunately, when it was necessary the little black box on her belt would disturb her rest and relaxation time and drag her down to the hospital mortuary. In the previous week, she had finished her shift, gone home and indulged herself with a hot bubble bath, climbed into bed and closed her eyes only to be forced to return to the cold room of death mere seconds later. Sadly, it was part of her job, but she knew it would pay off eventually. Ember was even considering taking some time off to herself in a few weeks, maybe even driving to San Francisco or some place for a short vacation. Everyone needed them and surely it was time for the tall blonde. The weather was nice there this time of year.

She found the keys to her precious bike right at the bottom of her small bag, and shoved everything else back in, holding the small key ring between her lips as she did, making certain that she didn’t drop anything. She was forever doing things like that and it was such a pain to have to try and find them or replace them. Ember had just about finishing shoving the loose tissues back into her bag when an almighty crash echoed around the lot. At first she thought there might have been an accident and her medical mind was racing to jump to the rescue, but she saw nothing when her blue eyes flicked around the lot. However, her bike wasn’t standing where she had left it.

Ember ran closer, her sharp heels banging against the solid ground as she moved to the space. She saw an extremely tall young man tangled in a mess of things and her bike included. Something clipped the toe of her black boot and she looked down, spying a camera that wasn’t hers. She presumed it belonged to the guy and bent down to pick it up.
The first thing in her mind was sheer anger. No one touched her bike without her standing nearby with her eyes fixed on them. However, before she could demand to know what he was doing with her bike, he began apologising. His voice was so deep that it almost caught her off guard, but Ember had seen and heard so many more bizarre things in her short but filled life.
She wasn’t quite sure how this accident came about, but nevertheless she moved closer and lifted the heavy bike from him. The weight didn’t bother her after almost a year of owning it. Ember was often lifting it or moving it and knew exactly how to now, without hurting herself. Gosh, he was tall. Ember thought she was tall, but this guy made her look petite!
She was still a little annoyed, but cast her blue eyes over the silver bike and saw no damage, so she relaxed and smiled. “It’s fine. It is kind of out of place over here.” It was parked away from everything else, but Ember hadn’t really noticed when she arrived earlier. Her medical eyes glanced over the young man. “Are you alright? Anything broken? Those cuts aren’t from this are they?” Her trained eyes landed on the minor marks on his cheek. They looked fairly healed, but she couldn’t be too sure from the position he was in.
[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

tagged Dexter!
words1066
outfit clicky!
lyrics Fences by Paramore
notes xD Good job the bike was intact...haha!

[DEXTER NELSON WILLOW]

It had been a sunny day, and Dexter should have known that sunny days were, first and foremost, deceptive. It had been a perfect day when Remy had gotten hit by the car, a better day than even this. Nothing had hurt when he woke up, he didn't spill coffee, nothing. Maybe he should begin to take small grievances as good things. If they happened, maybe it was a sign big things wouldn't. Or that days were just going to be worse. Maybe he was just fated to have something go wrong. It had been that way since he'd had a bunch of cans fall on his head, and started an unnatural growth spurt. Not that everything was bad, sometimes good things came from bad issues, but as he was on the pavement, possibly about to be beaten to death for tripping on a motorcycle, of all things, he wasn't all that concerned about the good.

Dexter did his best to sort of his limbs, which wasn't so easy with the motorcycle on top of him. He had no idea how to move the thing, and he was too tangled to do so just now. Oh, wait...there was an arm. He twisted that out from under him, noting a new new scrapes on his over sized palms. Ah well. Just scrapes. He twisted again to look up at the lady, noting she picked up his camera. If that was broke, he was done. His apologising seemed to have some effect, since she didn't beat him with one of the high heels and instead lifted the bike off off him. He untwisted himself and sat up, blinking. His elbow stung a little, no doubt it had gotten a small scrape. At least none of his clothes were ripped, they were a pain to replace! Next, he looked back at the bike. It was a nice bike, not that he looked at it. Very shiny and silvery. Quite nice, aesthetically. He knew about nothing else as far as bikes were concerned.

A glance back at her told Dexter that she was doubtlessly annoyed, but a second later she smiled, and spoke; a sign he was probably not going to be killed. Limbs sorted out, he picked himself up off the concrete as she finished speaking. Stretched very slightly, feeling his back twinge. Typical, it never had anything good to say about most citations. Ah well, that was ignorable too. Considering he'd been having thoughts about being killed via high heel, he was doing fine again.

She sounded downright medical with the last question. Off-duty doctor or something? Her dialogue was rather unusual, just in the way she asked it. He'd known enough doctors to know how they spoke, and she sounded like one. Or perhaps she was a police officer. They asked that too, but not in the same way. More in a 'okay, we need to find out exactly what he did and where he was going' sort of way. It varied, profession to profession, how people asked simple questions. His sister, an elementary school teacher, often asked it slowly, even when speaking to her family, as though they were all sobbing third-graders.

"I should still watch where I'm going." He replied. She didn't seem to be freaking out, so he took it as a sign the bike was good to go. "And yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Those marks are from a nasty incident with someone, never mind 'em." That man needed to be caught. Seriously. How did he escape the police every single time?! Was he a former cop or something himself? Dexter had his ideas, but he didn't care if they were right or wrong, just so long as the guy was gone! Dead, gone, ever to come back again; all of those sounded good. In jail, however, would be the best bit. "I'm so sorry." He said again, eyes straying in the direction of his camera. "I was taking pictures for school, and, well...crash. Could I..." He reached out for his camera, his single most valuable possession. It didn't seem cracked, but he had practically thrown it across pavement. There was a high likelihood it would be scratched. Just so long as it worked, he'd be happy. "I want to see if if I haven't destroyed it..by the way, you don't happen to work in the field of medicine, do you?"

---------
words| 821
tagged| Kim / Ember
notes| Yeah, I didn't want Dex to die. XD And I went off in a tangent in the middle. xP

[Ember Thistle Grant]

DON’T LOOK UP JUST LET THEM THINK
THERE’S NO PLACE ELSE YOU’D RATHER BE

[/justify]

AND NOW YOU CAN’T TURN BACK CAUSE

[/color][/font]
THIS ROAD IS ALL YOU’LL EVER HAVE[/size][/color][/font]

My gosh, the guy was tall indeed. His height when he was standing meant that Ember had to crane his neck to look at his face. This was really unusual for Ember who was breaking six feet in her chosen boots of the day. Normally she was the girl who had to stoop in the photos so as not to block out anyone else or was shoved to the back where she could hardly be seen. Her height would have been perfect if her desired profession was a supermodel or something, but most of the time it was just another aspect of her life that surprised people on a daily basis. The bike that was the catalyst in this encounter was another one of those things. However, this guy hadn’t seen to notice that or anything else of interest yet, which was a pleasant change for the young woman.

Ember noticed his eyes on her bike. He was probably checking for the damage and luckily for him, there was none. If there had been, then he’d be struggling to escape from her wrath. Ember was one of those people with a terrible sense of road rage. If someone parked too close to her bike then she’d explode and if anyone so much as left a visible fingerprint on her bike, then she’d explode too. Fortunately, this guy’s height seemed to have helped cushion her bike’s fall and prevented any scratches or dents in the silver frame of the beautiful vehicle.
Ember was still concerned for his wellbeing though. She hadn’t spent four years at medical school to spend more of her time caring for her bike than humans. Sure, most of the humans she dealt with were stone cold and stiff and had a tendency to keep quiet, no matter how many questions Ember asked them. However, that didn’t mean she didn’t care about the ones who were still breathing. She’d rather not have them on her patient list if she was honest.

The tall blonde didn’t even know how she sounded when she began to ask the questions. Over four years of working with patients as both a student and a certified doctor (although she rarely used that title when she was outside of the hospital) Ember had developed a way of speaking that had once been described as “interrogative”. She meant no harm and she wasn’t really prying, but it was just the nature of speech that her profession required. She could hardly make a song and dance out of it and it was probably frowned upon if she acted too informal with her work. The twenty three year old hoped that people would check to make sure if this guy was okay too, but it would be incredibly terrible of her if she didn’t check his condition seeing as how she was more than qualified to do so.
“Okay, just so long as you’re not hurt. You’ll never guess how quickly infections can spread if you’re not careful.” When it came to cuts and scrapes, Ember developed a form of OCD. She always carried antiseptic wipes and clean bandages in her bags and on her bike. Being a biker meant that she was more likely to get a few scrapes and cuts, especially when it was poor weather. “Are you sure you’re alright? You didn’t hit your head on the concrete? No twisted ankles?” Hell, and this was Ember on a day off. It was probably a good thing that she didn’t work upstairs in the wards with living patients. They’d have enough of her in five seconds.

Ember had completely forgotten about the camera in her hand. She had a habit of doing that at times and she was well known at the hospital for walking up for lunch with a sterilised scalpel in her hand. If she was looking for something that it was most likely in her left hand.
Her right hand would be doing the searching solo.
She smiled and held the camera out to him. “Sorry, I have a habit of holding things and forgetting it.” Ember tucked some of her wavy blonde hair behind her ear. She had wondered for a split second why he had a camera. The first thing in her mind had been that he was a tourist; quite a few of them came to the town and Ember had often been stopped for directions. However, his comment about ‘school’ explained it even more. “It seems intact to me, but I’m no expert.” She smiled and adjusted the bag on her shoulder.

She blinked in surprise. Was it so obvious that she worked in medicine? She cleared her throat which was feeling rather itchy at the moment, and nodded her head. “I work in the hospital.” She kept the details vague because most people seemed disgusted and appalled if she explained that she was a doctor who cut up and toyed with the dead bodies. Of course, she didn’t put it like that, but most people would imagine it that way of course.
[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

tagged Dexter!
words899
outfit clicky!
lyrics Fences by Paramore
notes Tangents are good xD

[DEXTER NELSON WILLOW]

Dexter was quite used to looking down at people. To see them, at any rate. Time and time again around he here proved himself to be somewhat naive, accident-prone country kid. But what the hell...he'd learn eventually. While she was craning her neck up, he was looking almost straight down. However, she didn't say anything about that. That was nice. He'd written a few remarks on some of his T-shirts, such as "I'm not big, you shrunk in the rain" to combat it, but he only wore them from time to time. Even if he wrote his height on a T-shirt, he'd probably still get question. No, he did not play basketball. He could dunk the damn thing but he couldn't dribble. No, he was not wearing stilts. No, his family was not also that tall. Yes, he did often bash his head. Yes, ceiling fans presented a problem but so did they, asking all the time. He wondered if she ever got it with her height, too...but then again, six feet in heels didn't seem that odd.

"I'm fine, really." Dexter assured her again. Cuts scrapes and bruises were nothing to him. Everyday issues, nothing more. Yep. There was no way she wasn't in medicine. The next best guess might be policing, or education, daycare or something, but she didn't look like that. It was something Dexter found rather fun, to guess who did what by their mannerism. He had to wonder what photographers did, then. Other than carry a camera around, which was, of course, the dead giveaway. He wasn't so good at guessing his own mannerism. Big and lumbering didn't fit many profiles, beyond some sort of linebacker. "I just tripped, is all...on a motorbike, of all things, but I still just tripped."

Dexter took the camera back when she held it out, worried once more. Screw his cuts and scrapes, he would heal. Cameras didn't heal, damn them. He said nothing while he held it up, noting it had a slight scrape on one side. He pressed the button for the display to turn on...and audibly sighed with relief when it did. He pointed the camera down at his shoe, focused it, and then tried it again, this time using a distant car. That was in working order. "Yep." He said with a grin. "It lives!" He turned it off and tucked it back in his chest pocket for the moment, figuring it could be safer there. Unless he tripped and fell in his face, at which point he'd just crush it. "It takes more abuse than I think it could take, but it never ceases to amaze me."

When Dexter asked about medicine, he saw her seemed surprised and smiled wryly. He was right! Hah! Concept proven. At least a little more than before. "I had a feeling." He mused. "The trick is in how people speak." People drew conclusions from it. Sometimes good sometimes bad. Sometimes Dexter got painted stupid because of the cartoons and such that had the stupid henchman guy having a deep, slow voice, but he liked to hope he was more observant than that! "I can't nail what part of the hospital, though. I'm guessing it isn't the ICU or maternity ward, though..." In the ICU, people probably weren't going to be speaking a lot, never mind be asked if their ankle was twisted. Well...possibly? He didn't have no med degree to say so. The maternity ward wasn't going to be asking questions about if a lady was okay or not, either. If someone was in labour, well...it was clear enough how they were, wasn't it?

--------
words| 682
tagged| Kim / Ember
notes| My muse deicded not to coperate with this one. >.>