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Post by Not A Wizard on Jun 19, 2015 8:01:09 GMT
Thud.
Pat pat.
The soft noises of Rohan dropping the inflated Futon onto the floor were only accompanied by the following pat of his hands afterwards, more to congratulate himself than pat any dust off. He had done a fair bit of work, he'd say. Moving an inflated mattress by oneself wasn't exactly an easy task: One that would have been made a lot simpler had he had the foresight to move the mattress before he inflated it. This of course however only occurred to him after he had gone through the effort of inflating the damn thing in the wrong room. To say Rohan could be a bit air headed at times would be an understatement, a sad truth that he was reminded of every now and again in situations like this. Still, by the time it was inflated it seemed like much more a hassle to deflate and re-inflate the damn thing then just move it. It had taken only a few minutes to move it through the few rooms between it's location and it's destination, and now it was sat in the midst of the room, just in time by his reckoning.
Just in time for what you might ask? His new house guest, of-course.
Right, that probably didn't explain much.
Let us turn back the clock a few days, toward quite possibly the most unexpected encounter in Rohan's life. He'd just been minding his own business, teaching a class of upper-middle class white people how to pretend they knew Yoga, when in rolled a woman he'd soon come to know was called Padma. And to top it off, she was looking for his dad.
Well obviously that was a bit of a problem given his father's current location was six feet under the ground.
However, brief discussion revealed it was more of what his father taught than his father himself she was looking for. Turns out, she was half-rakshasi, and was having some issues controlling her, well, mystic nature. Rohan frankly would have felt irresponsible if he had turned her away, so one thing led to another and now she was his student-to-be of sorts. Which was incredibly odd given he himself was just a student, but teaching her what little he knew was better than nothing. Of course, it also turned out she was homeless, and to make matters worse, fleeing from the Church. This complicated matters somewhat, so to make sure she was not being followed, and partially to keep an eye on her, he had offered she stay in his home.
He winced a little every time he thought about it. An Indian Ki Artist, inviting a Rakshasi into his home? The unfortunate implications were fairly obvious, to those whom knew to look for them. But it was frankly unacceptable to turn her away; Partly because a tiny part of him was worried she might in fact do some harm to another outside his watch. Mostly because he was familiar with how the church handled things, and if she wound up dead in a ditch somewhere he didn't think he'd be able to look himself in the mirror. Awkward scenarios be damned.
It wasn't a large home, a tiny house that he rented from it's wealthy owners whom didn't even seem to live in the State. As such, there was only bedroom in the house. And he certainly wasn't going to sleep in the same bed as her. Hence, the futon. Whether he was sleeping on it or she was, he hadn't decided yet. It was chivalrous to give the lady the comfortable bed, but chivalry be damned Rohan had just gotten the damn thing. He wasn't exactly rolling in money either. A quick look around his tiny home would quickly reveal this, as it was severly lacking in furniture. Only a few chairs adorned all the rooms combined, with the only tables having been provided by the home owners themselves.
Content with the half baked job he'd done preparing the futon, with a single comforter laid across it and the only pillow he felt comfortable sparing from the bed, he went to work cleaning up the mess he'd made moving it. Across the floor were littered countless baubles, worthless trinkets that you'd probably see adoring the walls of a Dollar Store or something of the like. All vaguely Indian, or at least Asian in origin, they were basically the only form of decoration he could afford at this point. Still, he'd grown a certain fondness for them, and he carefully placed each back on whatever shelf or wall it had fallen off of before resigning himself back to the main room. He sat himself there, cross legged with his palms upwards from his knees, the first yogic stance his grandfather had ever taught him. As the seconds ticked by, he closed his eyes.
Now there was nothing to do but wait.
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Sept 10, 2015 4:04:45 GMT
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Post by Petrosinella on Jun 21, 2015 4:09:16 GMT
Padma’s Rakshasi heritage had given her a number of gifts, one of which seemed to be her uncanny ability to ruin tranquility wherever she encountered it. Not that she intended to. In fact, she had an odd respect for naturally tranquil folks, and yoga enthusiasts, and really anybody who had the kind of control over their emotions that she wanted for herself. It was just that, whether she wanted to be or not, she was a bit of a bull in a china shop. Vivi really didn’t help.
This current Vivi was badly in need of a repair. The last time he’d gotten one they’d been in New York and she’d had quite a bit more money to play around with. Perhaps now that she’d be settling here for a bit she could begin working on him again, but until then he was a lot louder than he needed to be. The clanging, sputtering sounds that he made as they pulled up to Rohan’s house might have woken the entire street up had it been morning.
She could never have handled the morning. The afternoon was bad enough even with her makeshift sun suit. When she’d first come across it, it had seemed sort of…badass? Something like that. When she wore it she certainly looked like the sort of person that spent most of her time zipping around on a motorcycle, but did the helmet really need those cat ears?
She supposed that she had bigger problems, though.
This Rohan guy was a lot nicer than she’d expected a yoga teacher to be. Anybody who teaches people to twist themselves into pretzels for money has to have some kind of deep seated psychological issues, or so she’d thought. And yet, he was letter her stay with him despite her heritage, not to mention her somewhat shady employment history. She was admittedly a bit skeptical about the whole training thing purely because he was only a student himself, but even if all she got out of this was a place to stay for a couple of weeks, it would be worth it.
Padma went to the door and knocked louder than was necessary. “Hey Rohan?” She shouted. “It’s Padma. Open up!”
Gesturing to the small cooler attached to the back of her motorcycle as if he could see it from inside the house, she added; “I brought some Kool Aid.”
He probably didn’t drink. That was the next best thing.
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Post by Not A Wizard on Jun 21, 2015 15:35:59 GMT
It was almost humorous how absurdly little time seemed to have passed since Rohan had closed his eyes and when Padma rolled onto his street. Kind of like when you close your eyes to fall asleep, and then suddenly your alarm clock is ringing in your ear? You might have actually been out for minutes or hours, but it felt like barely more than a moment. His eyes shot open as the noise invaded his senses, standing himself upright and feeling a sudden stiffness in his limbs as he did so. One of his legs even seemed asleep, as a sharp fuzzy feeling ran up it as he stood on it, almost knocking him over. He hadn't had his legs fall asleep on him in years-- Not since his first attempts at holding yogic positions.
Maybe I was sitting longer than I thought.
A roll of the shoulders and shaking of the limbs quickly got most of the dull sensation out of his limbs, before he heard Padma knock on his front door, rather loudly. A soft sigh escaped him before a response did.
Neighbors probably didn't appreciate that one.
"Coming, Coming."
A quiet response, barely audible from beyond the door as he made his way towards it before opening it.
"Padma, glad you made it. Please, come in."
A momentary pause.
"Bring the Kool-Aid."
Rohan wasn't one to pass up free snacks, or drinks, after all. He stepped back out of the door way, gesturing for her to come inside as he did so. Turning on a heel, he walked through the small abode ahead of her, leading her to the kitchen: Basically the only place in the house with any sort of refrigeration. Like the rest of the rooms in the house it was fairly small, with only meager furniture to adorn the place. A tiny table in the center, barely large enough to accommodate four people if the need demanded. Such a situation still had yet to arise, so it was all more than enough for Rohan to get by.
"You can put it in the Fridge. Should be plenty of space, I think."
Furniture was not the only thing Rohan's house was clearly lacking. The fridge was sparsely packed, with little variety to the foods within. Noodles and rice made up most of it: He'd only recently gotten enough money to afford any more then that, and he hadn't hit a grocery store in a while. Thoughts of food turned towards his guest: It was rude not to offer food to a guest, right? But then, he didn't have much to offer her in terms of food at the moment. She'd told him somewhat about her eating habits and somehow he doubted old ramen would suffice for her. Not enough meat, he thought. Although then again he was still very fuzzy on the actual specifics of her dietary requirements. Oh well, they could just go get food if needed, it was still polite to offer.
"Have you eaten already?"
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Post by Petrosinella on Jun 24, 2015 3:27:27 GMT
It was moments like these when Padma was forced to acknowledge the fact that she honestly had no idea how normal folks handled things like niceties and greetings and whatnot. He seemed like a pretty well-rounded guy, granted she didn’t know that much about him. And then there was her whole “yoga means deep seated psychological issues” thing. But so far he was being really sweet – way sweeter than he was obligated to be given the situation.
Once upon a time she’d heard somebody say something about how you’re supposed to bring your host some kind of gift to show that you really do appreciate their sticking their neck out for you. Maybe that was just for parties, or formal stuff. Still, she felt like she should do something, and if normally the gift is something like wine or champagne – liquor, basically – then Kool Aid was a decent enough cheap-o Hindu equivalent. Provided he was Hindu. Maybe she was being racist.
Anyway, it doubled as an excuse to go right to his fridge. Of course she couldn’t expect him to be able to accommodate her appetite, but wow – it was just about empty. But then, so was the house. Still, the fact that he had a house at all was kind of mindboggling. They looked to be around the same age. Padma sure as hell wasn’t anywhere close to being able to afford a house.
“Kinda.” She said, shrugging. She was, for all intents and purposes, in a constant state of ‘food’. “I’m gonna go grab some pizza in a bit. You can come if you want. I work there, so I get free stuff.”
Along with the Kool Aid she’d carried a little black backpack inside that held what few possessions she did like to carry with her. It was just the basics – toiletries, perfume, things like that. Vivi was the only large possession worth lugging around from place to place, and that was mostly because he was her main mode of transportation.
Unsure of where she ought to put it, Padma wound up just setting the backpack down on the floor beside her for now.
“But yeah, uh, thanks for having me. It shouldn’t be too long – I’ll looking for another place. Money’s just kind of tight right now.” She continued. “I bet your folks are thrilled about this.”
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Post by Not A Wizard on Jun 24, 2015 8:49:18 GMT
"...Free Pizza?"
Eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store. Of all the things Rohan was, he was still quite poor in the grand scheme of things: Renting a house on his meager pay basically consumed the vast majority of his income, which wasn't exactly stable. He couldn't even remember the last time he had pizza: Before he went to India, probably. But damn, who didn't love Pizza? It was like waving a steak in front of a starving animal: For someone whose diet consisted of what was basically rice and ramen, just the thought of getting pizza for free was enough to give him pause. Truthfully he'd eaten only a little while before she got here, but he'd leap at the chance for free pizza.
"Erm, I mean, I'll probably take you up on that."
Well that hadn't exactly worked out how he thought it would. He was about to continue, but lost his chance as she managed to before he had a chance to form the words. Thanking him for letting her stay and what not. He wished it didn't make him feel a bit guilty, that some small part of why he invited her to stay was to better keep track of her. It was wrong, it was judgemental, and he had no right to be, but a small part of him was still wrapping itself around the fact she wasn't going to try and eat him in the middle of the night, like the Rakshasa from the stories do. But here she stood, a person, one whom had come looking for help so that she wouldn't kill other people. It was more dedication than Rohan had ever had the chance to show, and he owed it to her to be open minded. Hence the current situation.
"Don't worry about it. I think you've gathered that I'm no stranger to being strapped for cash."
He gestured around him to the surrounding area, with only cheap furniture and cheaper baubles and decorations to adorn it.
"You can stay as long as you like. I have a spare mattress that the owners left set up in the other room, ."
A single thumb pointed over his shoulder, indicating the room on the other side of the wall, just through a nearby door: The one he had set up before she had arrived and had just been meditating within.
"As for my folks... Well the only one really around to tell is my grandfather..."
Both parents deceased, Rohan really hadn't considered what his "folks" might think in a long while: While he loved his grandfather and those within the temple dearly, he wondered if he ever really considered them "close." They were family to him he supposed, but not close, like that of a parent and their child. They were like relatives, but not true family, if that made any sense. Which is probably why it had somehow slipped his mind to mention to them at all what was happening. He'd even talked on the phone to his grandfather just the other day, and somehow had completely spaced that this might be an important thing to answer the "So what have you been up to?" question with.
"...I suppose I should tell him, huh...?"
One hand scratched the back of his head sheepishly, as he gave Padma a kind of nervous laugh. It really had just slipped his mind, but now that he thought about it he really was not looking forward to explaining this whole thing to his Grandfather. One that he had invited a Rakshasi into his house which would make his Grandfather positively froth at the mouth at the assumed indecency of it [Rohan would swear he got all his judgemental stereotypes from his grandfather, the way he raved about them], but that he was teaching her even some small fraction of their arts. Grandfather hadn't wanted to teach Rohan anything about the art, until he had little to no other heirs remaining. That's how closely he regarded the secrets of their family. The fact that Rohan was teaching it, even though for very good reason, to Padma would quite possibly make him about have an ulcer. Not that it would change Rohan's mind in the slightest, but it was sure to be an interesting conversation nonetheless.
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Post by Petrosinella on Jun 25, 2015 3:11:15 GMT
In a way offering pizza had been a secret test of character. Anybody who turned down free pizza was either a sociopath or a cyborg. Probably a cyborg in Rohan’s case. Not that there was anything wrong with that. As nice as he was, he had one of the blankest faces that Padma had ever encountered in her life. But he’d seemed so elated at the idea of going out to get a pie that she decided – for now – that he probably was just as human as he seemed. Or at least, like, mostly flesh.
She nodded and wandered off into the room that he’d indicated to inspect what was to be her bed. She might have been a bit embarrassed if she’d realized how widely she was smiling as she looked at it. It wasn’t anything special, sure, but it was nice and clean. It had been ages since she’d slept someplace as put together as this. Decorations be damned – it was the basic stuff that mattered. Running water, a reasonable amount of people for the space, no roaches, all that stuff. People always took that for granted.
Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned his family. She’d come into this knowing that his father was dead, but he’d never mentioned the mother. By the sound of it, she was just as…gone. Tough break.
Padma wondered if maybe there was something in her DNA that set her on alert whenever elderly Indian men were so much as brought up in conversation. It was always the old guys that made the most trouble for her. They were the traditionalists – the ones that knew how bad people like Mother were.
“I mean, you don’t have to. It’s not like he’s gonna find out if you don’t. Plus it’s a little easier for me if you don’t because then I can just eat you without having to worry about anybody connecting me to it.” She said. And then, realizing that maybe they weren’t at the point in their friendship where they could make cannibal jokes, she added;
“Kidding.”
There was a somewhat awkward pause.
“Naw, but really, you should probably tell him."
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Post by Not A Wizard on Jun 25, 2015 7:48:30 GMT
Sometimes Rohan thought he just lived in a constant state of befuddlement. His parents had liked to call it contemplation, but someone who wasn't confused by things wouldn't need to "comtemplate" so much, would they? After following Padma into the room, he carefully observed her reaction to the tiny bed space, as discretely as he could while pretending to simply stroll in behind her. He'd expected some hints of disappointment or reluctance; Basically what his reaction had been when he'd first moved to a temple and found that the only place his grandfather had for him to sleep was essentially some blankets on the floor. Ofcourse the geezer got a nice large bed all to himself... If it was bad enough, he was prepared to simply cut in and let her use the actual bed, much to his own reluctance. Instead she smiled, and for the life of him he could barely understand why.
Did it strike her as funny? Was she just a fan of the blanket arrangements? It caused him to furrow his brow slightly as he turned away from her, mulling it over while doing his best not to let her see. Maybe she was just thankful? It was the obvious answer, but how bad would her living arrangements have had to been that a spare futon seemed like getting a puppy for Christmas? Bad like whatever you can get while being hunted by rabid fanatics, probably. Maybe that was it then. He couldn't help but pity her: Not that she seemed to need it or ask for it. She seemed more the type to hit him upside the head if she thought someone was pitying her, so keeping his mouth shut seemed the best option.
That said, you could practically hear his the bones in his neck snapping around from whiplash at his double take when she joked about eating him. It was obviously a joke: The logical side of Rohan said so from the get go. But you could say at least a part of him was on edge about the subject enough to warrant him snapping his head around to look at her when she said it, his body tensing up almost immediately. It loosened immensely when she added the "kidding" afterwards, as he let out nervous laugh.
"Oh. Haha..."
A soft thud accompanied his plopping down into the sofa-chair behind him, letting out a soft sigh as he closed his eyes in somewhat overdone relief.
"Please don't do that. I don't think it's good for my heart."
Eyes shifted away from her and up towards nothing in particular as his train of thought shifted to the eventual conversation he'd have to have with his grandfather. He did make note to gesture openly at the few other chairs in the room, inviting her to sit if she so felt like it.
"I'm sure I'll tell him... eventually. "
He looked to the side guiltily as he added the last bit. Realistically he should tell his grandfather as soon as possible, but surely his grandfather would believe he'd forgotten a bit longer right? Procrastination was not a healthy habit, but in this case Rohan saw some merit to it. After all, if he proved she was neither dangerous nor trying to seduce him before he told his grandfather, he could dismantle his argument before it even got into that territory. Granted that might only make him angrier, but you can't win'em all.
"He's a very traditional sort of person, and I don't think he'd quite see things the way I see them."
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Post by Petrosinella on Jun 28, 2015 4:35:14 GMT
Well she hadn’t expected him to whip around that fast. Jeez. Though she supposed that maybe she should have taken it as a compliment. If it wasn’t for the way that she carried herself she wouldn’t have been half as intimidating as she liked to think that she was these days. His reacting as if he really did think that she, despite being something like 5’3’’, could just jump on him and eat him whole right here and now was a lovely confidence booster.
But that had admittedly been a dick move on her part. She thought about apologizing, but at that point he was already past it. Whatever – she could make it up to him with the pizza. She could not, however, promise that she’d never do that again. So few people could actually appreciate that kind of humor. If you said “Rakshasi” to half these white San Franciscans they’d think you were talking about some kind of weird sushi dish.
She plopped herself down onto one of the chairs, which felt incredible after four hours on a motorcycle. Not that she didn’t love Vivi, but shit, he needed better seats.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. My mom’s the same way.”
Sort of. Mother was traditional, sure, but a different kind of traditional. In fact, she was willing to wager that she and Rohan’s grandfather were on opposite sides of the traditional spectrum. From the very little that she knew about him, he was one of those really serious Ki warriors – a real master of Varma Kalai. Just the kind of person that Mother loved to hunt. And, come to think of it, they might have been sort of similar in age provided Mother wasn’t older. She’d gained notoriety starting something like sixty years ago, but you can never tell with Rakshasi.
“Hey, wouldn’t it be weird if they knew each other?” She said. And then, thinking more on it… “…Actually I really hope they don’t.”
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Post by Not A Wizard on Jun 30, 2015 6:16:45 GMT
"...Hopefully not. "
Traditionally speaking, there were two ways the "Warrior meets Rakshasi" story plays out. Way one: They fight to the death, with only one surviving. Either the Rakshasi wound up dead or the Warrior wound up eaten. That was the more straight forward resolution. The other way was the unfortunately more common way, if the warrior was strong enough to slay the demoness: They found fighting too much a hassle and just wound up banging instead. The most notorious case of this was the famous hero Bhima, whom probably was the most traditional example in his siring of the half-Rakshasa Ghatotkacha. However, Rohan had always sort of thought that was the kind of event which only happened in stories, but Padma's existence kind of disproved that notion.
Considering both Rohan's grandfather and Padma's mother were both still alive, and what he knew about both, that would have only left one possibility if they had known each other.
Rohan wanted to gag at the thought, but managed to keep his face straight.
"For everyone's sake, really."
The diversion in the conversation did lead him to another point he'd meant to ask her about, but hadn't really been sure how to bring up. It was regarding her family, and how she had separated from them: He didn't imagine they were terribly pleased about that. He knew the Church had been on her tail and was pretty sure he could keep an eye out for them and make sure she'd lost them for good, but if Rakshasa could possibly start showing up, he needed to know about it. Not that he might be able to do much to a full fledged Rakshasi and her hybrid offspring, but it was better than being blindsided.
"Speaking of your Mother, I never asked earlier. When you, well, left, I can't imagine they were terribly thrilled. Do I need to worry about angry siblings knocking the door in?"
He tried to spin it as a joke but Rohan was the master of absolutely butchering any attempts at comedy, so it came out as quite monotonous. Sarcasm had been a specialty of his (Like most teenagers) before Grandfather happened, and he'd kindly been broken of the teenage habit of dipping every other word in sarcasm. Lost the ability to do it entirely after not doing it for so long, as if his poor sarcasm muscle had withered up and rotted in his extended leave from the Americas.
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