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#Post#: 603--------------------------------------------------
Re: Splitting the Rent
By: Snowflake Date: January 15, 2014, 4:40 pm
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"Nev'r go' much in'na sports?!" Snow exclaimed suddenly, seeming
to just get over her shock at what he said, "Did'ja no' play as
a colt there, love? 'Ell, in Trottin'am, Oi cawn' walk down
th'street withou' runnin' in'na some kids playin' hoofball. Oi
mean, s'awl roigh' t'enjoy readin' them books, but come oooon,
now Oi'm gonna 'ave a 'ard toime believin' ya." She shook her
head with a goofy grin before standing up and walking over to
the kitchen, sticking her head in the cabinet before coming back
out holding a kettle in her mouth. Taking it to the sink, she
filled it with water before setting it on the stove, setting the
burner to high before walking back over to the couches. Of all
the things that she couldn't mess up on a regular basis, it had
to be in making tea. Maybe she'll consider opening up a pack of
biscuits afterwards.
"Did'ja want some tea, love? Dun' 'ave much else t'drink 'soides
wat'r an' beer, an Oi'm sure i's still too early for drinkin'."
After he responded, she sat back down in the recliner, though
she didn't recline quite yet. Instead, she looked him square in
the eyes, scratching at her cheek as she considered what
Schwambart had to say. He was definitely much different from the
other stallions that came before him; he was somewhat
respectful, seemed to be a chill enough kind of guy, had a
promising career ahead of him to support himself, and who knows,
maybe it will be fun to show him around some places. If there
was one thing she enjoyed doing, it was putting ponies out of
their element, whether that be taking the egghead out partying,
or the not physically inclined ones out to the mountains with
her. Heck, she could easily see him as being a nice friend for
now.
The consideration didn't take too long, and pretty soon, Snow
was standing back up, saying with a cheery tone, "Well, Oi go'
no doub' in moi moind tha' Oi loike ya a lot, defini'ly th'best
candida'e t'be moi flatmate 'f awll th'ponies who show'd up fo'
in'naviews, an' hay, you're a noice guy, an' tha's somethin' Oi
could get wi' easy. So, Cappy," Snow walked over to the
stallion, taking his hoof and giving it a shake before pulling
him in to throw her other leg around his shoulder in a friendly
hug, not unlike one she would give her other friends on the
mountains, "Oi'd loike t'welcome ya t'th'flat." Giving him a few
seconds to let that sink in, she let him go before saying, in a
rather excited tone, "Come on, Oi'll show ya 'round th'place."
"Firs' things firs', 'ere's the kitchen." They didn't have to go
far before getting here, since it could be seen from the living
room, still, she pointed out everything for him in a rapid-fire
fashion, "'Fridge, stove, oven, draw'rs... Oi usually keep
th'rule tha' if stuff ain' marked t'be saved, i's free game.
E'ry so of'en Oi run ou' t'th'marke' t'stock up on foodstuffs.
Oi usually ge' only the necess'ties an' whatev'r Oi want, so if
ya wan' somethin' in particula', ya gonna 'ave t'come wi' me.
Oh, an' feel free t'cook whenev'r an' whatev'r ya want, there's
pots an' pans there fo' a reason, an' Oi'm no good with 'em."
Quickly eyeing the kettle, she turned around and led him back
through the living room, past the front entrance, and into
another smaller hallway with three doors.
"Roigh," she said, stopping at the first door on the right side
and opening it, revealing a room that looked very much lived in.
The bed set against the wall on the opposite side of the door
and under a window was very much unmade, its thick, heavy quilt
looking incredibly comfortable and inviting, especially with the
large, fluffy pillows. Beside the bed was a dresser with a few
small drawers, and sitting upon that was an alarm clock as well
as a lamp. A few magazines and some jackets were sprawled out on
the floor, but so far, this moderate disorganization was
probably the messiest room in the flat, probably for an
excusable reason, since this was a bedroom and not usually open
to the public eye. There was also a closet whose door was
closed, most likely a small wardrobe or storage closet. Stepping
inside so that he could get a good look at the organized mess,
she said, "This's moi room, dun' moind th'mess, Oi act'ally troi
t'keep things clean 'round 'ere. Now, ya said ya 'ad sissas
b'fore, so ya prolly know not t'come in 'ere withou' due
p'mission. Ya can do tha', an Oi'll keep outta your room too.
Oh, an' fer the love'a Celestia, please knock first b'fore ya
enter. We dun' need no embarassin' inciden's now do we, eh?"
She elbowed him in the ribs in a friendly manner as she walked
back past him, giving him a mischievous wink before going to the
door opposite of her room. Opening this one, Snow ushered
Schwambart in first so that he could get a look at this one.
This room was pretty similar to Snow's room with the exception
that it was bare and empty, save for the bed and dresser. The
bed was made, though clearly with some spare sheets and nothing
too special, "This'll be your room 'ere. Go nuts with i', Oi
dun' care what ya do in 'ere as long as i' dun' spill ou' in'na
the rest'a th'flat. Oth'awoise, this's yer space, an' Oi'm no'
gonna be goin' anywhere near i' unless ya wan' me too."
"Foinally," she added, turning to the last door at the end of
the hallway, pushing it open to reveal a very clean bathroom,
complete with a shower and other such necessities as well as a
medicine cabinet. There was also a small cupboard beside the
sink that, when opened, would reveal many towels like the one
that Snow gave Schwambart earlier. On the counter by the sink
was a small cup in which a toothbrush stood upright next to a
tube of toothpaste. Other than that, it was a very unremarkable
space, and it reflected in Snow's more flat tone, "th'bawthroom.
Knock firs', dun' hog awll th'hot wat'r when ya shower, basic
stuff. This's th'only bawthroom in our flat, so keep i'
spo'less." After that, she closed the door and turned to face
Schwambart and asked with a friendly smile, "So, any questions?
Ya said ya 'ad ya stuff in a wagon roigh', so we dun' 'ave t'go
through tha' nonsense of gettin' th'movers in 'ere yeah? Need
any 'elp with'at?"
#Post#: 607--------------------------------------------------
Re: Splitting the Rent
By: Schwambart Date: January 15, 2014, 7:08 pm
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Schwambart has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep back a
snippy reply to Snow's apparent outburst at his lack of sports
enthusiasm, and his smile becomes slightly forced. Of course he
didn't get into them. He guesses she was never the last one
picked. The odd pony out. It wasn't that he wasn't interested
at first. In fact, he grew up with a healthy dose of excitement
for the physical activities, but it got beaten out of him.
Sports are, by and large, social events. And guess what kind of
events he didn't excel in? If you guessed intellectual ones,
your guess is bad and you should feel bad.
He cuts that train of thought off with the offer of something to
drink. "Tea should be fine, thank you, or water would be good
as well. Mayhap some Q, or I heard S is a pretty good drink."
Hm, tea and beer. He makes a mental note that he would probalby
want to expand the selection if he's accepted, because variety.
He sure does enjoy his flavored drinks, and that's likely going
to consume a fair bit of his excess income, depending on just
how much he's able to start making.
He listens attentively as she stands up, seeming to have come to
a decision. It sounds like she's saying some positive things
about it, so...is he in? And then she's shaking his hoof and
putting the other around his shoulder, welcoming him. Well,
that wasn't quite what he was expecting. He returns the hug a
little less comfortably with a very light blush coloring his
cheeks, not really a big hugger outside of his family.
He follows her to the kitchen, taking a look around. Seems
pretty self-explanatory. Ooh, free rein to use the pots and
pans? Sweet. He's always wanted to get into cooking, and if
she's not going to be using them why not? Should be pretty easy
to understand the kitchen, so he doesn't spare it too much
thought as she leads him down to the hall. So, that's her room.
His room is probalby on the other side of the hall, based on
the basic layout of the place. He almost laughs out loud at her
semi-apology for the mess, and can't fully suppress a slight
chuckle. "Mess? I see no mess. Yours is small potatoes next
to the ones I had to deal with myself on a regular basis. No, I
don't mind the mess." Not that he intends to spend much time
looking or being in there, but he still nods at her admonishment
not to enter without permission, and the nudge and wink set his
cheeks aflame and he has to avert his eyes. "Ahem. Right, I'll
keep that in mind."
He enters his room and walks into the center of it, giving it a
good look around. Not that big, but practically palatial in
size compared with what he was used to because of his previous
living arrangements. He quickly runs through his brought
furniture. Yes, this could be pretty nice. He could put in his
desk, bring in his bedding, a chair...heck, if he stayed here
long enough he could have his drum set shipped in from home and
maybe actually use it for once. In fact, he could probalby use
this room as a proper art studio when he wasn't sleeping. Yeah,
that could work. He's never had a room just for drawing before.
His grin just grows bigger and bigger as he considers the
possibilities. His own space, to do with what he wants. "Go
nuts? Don't mind if I do," he replies with a laugh before
saying more quietly, "I just might."
The last room in the tour is the bathroom, and he's already in
awe of how clean it is. His bathrooms had gotten that clean
occasionally, but they always reverted to filthy pretty quickly.
He'll not need to work that hard to keep it clean, since it's
his natural inclination to do so anyway, but he should still
probalby make it a conscious effort rather than a passive task.
"Got it. Can do," he replies with a faux-salute.
"Eh," he responds with a shrug. He walks over to the window.
"Most of my stuff is pretty easy to unload and the stuff that
isn't would probalby be a little much for this place, since I
brought it planning on furnishing my own house with it. And I
don't know about you, but I really don't want to go back out
into that rain right now." He peers upwards to see if it shows
any sign of letting up. "Not only that, but a lot of it would
likely be worse for being in the rain. But do you have an
umbrella? There are a couple of things out there that I should
probalby get inside before too long."
#Post#: 611--------------------------------------------------
Re: Splitting the Rent
By: Snowflake Date: January 15, 2014, 9:16 pm
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After the tour, Snowflake breathed a sigh of relief, making
ready to head back towards the couch and perhaps resume her nap.
Finally she was able to get a flatmate in this place, and be
able to coast her way through the summer without going over
budget and without needing to take a summer job. That alone was
reason enough for her to celebrate, maybe later she will have a
few of those beers that sat chilling in the refrigerator. Before
she could unceremoniously flop down onto the couch again though,
Schwambart had walked over to the window, looking out at the
rain and mentioning that some of his stuff would probably be
better inside than out right now, and asking her if she had an
umbrella. "A 'brella? Aww yeah, sho' love. Jus' in'th'closet boi
th'fron' door on'na top shelf 'ere..."
She walked over and pushed the closet door open, rearing up on
her back two legs and balancing against the door frame, grunting
in exertion as she hooked her free foreleg up onto the top shelf
to feel around for and pull the umbrella down. It was a standard
grey umbrella, very much unused, but big enough for two ponies
to fit under it if they got close enough. Snow didn't mind that;
if she could comfortably hug a pony for a minute or two and not
feel weird about it, she could stand beside somepony under an
umbrella for an extended period of time with no problem.
Glancing back to Schwambart, she waved the umbrella towards the
door before balancing it against her shoulder, "If ya need stuff
pull'd from ya wagon, we should ge' i' insoide then. Come on,
Oi'll 'elp ya, make i' in one 'r two trips 'ere. Oi'll 'old
th'brella fo' ya, an' you can git'cha things."
Snow stepped outside after that, making sure she still had the
key to the flat before opening the umbrella under the awning. As
she got a good grip on it, she looked out at the weather, at the
sheets of water that literally pouring from the sky. Trottingham
may have been able to rain frequently, but very few times did it
actually seem like a monsoon on some days. Shuddering a little
at the chilling spray that came from the water splashing up from
the puddles on the ground, and the general humidity, Snow turned
around and looked in the door, waiting for Schwambart to come
outside so that they could save his things, "There's a saddlebag
on'th'bo'om 'f th'closet too if ya think ya need i'. Oi dunno
abou' you, bu' Oi really dun' wanna stay ou' 'ere too long.
Catchin' a cold is no' fun." With space under the umbrella
barely enough for two ponies, it would be a little close, but
not once did it cross her mind the possibility of any
discomfort. She was okay with it, so he must be, right?
#Post#: 614--------------------------------------------------
Re: Splitting the Rent
By: Schwambart Date: January 15, 2014, 10:38 pm
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"Alright. That should work." Schwambart looks in the closet
after the offer to let him use the saddlebag, but shakes his
head. It should be fine. Just a couple of things, one of which
didn't really need any attention to carry. "Naw, I don't have
any saddles to carry," he jokes as he steps out after her.
"Shouldn't need a bag just for carrying them. Eh...hm," he
finishes quietly. That umbrella is a pretty good size...for a
single pony. Two ponies is a bit of a stretch, and would
require them to be...pretty close. Um. Uh.
...Okay, fine. "Alrighty," he says quietly, stepping under the
umbrella with her while closing the door behind him. "Let's
go." As they step out from under the awning, he finds that he's
not completely covered, his shoulder getting wet quickly, so he
steps in closer to avoid it, keeping his eyes averted from her
as a blush begins creeping onto his face. He fights between his
aversion to getting rained on and his awkwardness in being this
close to somepony he doesn't even really know, ending up walking
in such a way that he would occasionally get wet but he
wasn't...overly close to her. Most of the time. His blush
grows slightly brighter every time they brush together, the
bottom of the stairs seeing him about half the blush he had in
the bedroom.
It drops a little bit when they reach the wagon and he gets to
busy his hooves. "Okay, I'll make this as quick as I can. Just
hold that there, and I'll..." He flips up part of the tarp and
uses it for cover as he reaches into the bowels of the wagon.
Where is it, where is- There it is. From under a chair he
pulls a messenger bag, thick with its contents. It's plain
black, like his vest, and has several zippers and pockets all
over. "One down, one to go," he says as he puts the strap over
his neck and leaves it leaning against his side. The other
thing isn't far, under his desk. Out from under it is dragged a
violin case, navy blue with a zipped opening. That one he
straps to his foreleg opposite his bag. "Alright, that's it.
I'm good to go back up now."
On the way back up he walks closer to her, blush creeping back
onto his face as he tries to keep his cargo dry, and he actually
pulls his bag up onto his back so it isn't between them, as that
was going to leave his violin case drenched if it stayed out as
far as it was. He breathes a big sigh of relief when they get
back up to the awning. "Right, thanks so much again, for
letting me in and for helping me get my stuff," he says as he
steps up to the door, opening it and letting her through before
stepping in himself and closing the door behind him. "Most of
my stuff is pretty expendable, but these two are pretty
important. I couldn't stand it if they were stolen." He steps
over to where he left the towel on the couch, then runs it over
his newly-wet portions and the damp violin case before heading
over to his room and depositing his violin case just inside the
doorway.
#Post#: 626--------------------------------------------------
Re: Splitting the Rent
By: Snowflake Date: January 16, 2014, 4:37 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Snow very much kept to herself as they descended the stairs in
the rain, not seeming to notice as much as Schwambart the fact
that they were in pretty close proximity to each other. She
didn't try to move out of the way whenever he brushed up next to
her, since she was the one holding the umbrella and he was just
trying to stay dry. Of anything, she took notice of just how
much distance he tried to keep, sacrificing the dryness of one
of his shoulders a few times in order to keep a bit of distance
between them. Perhaps he was just being polite? Usually the only
ponies that would walk this close to each other were really
close friends or maybe even lovers. One of the few times he did
accidentally brush up against her side, she gave him a slight
glance out of the corner of her eyes, and as she looked, she
came to a bit of a realization from what she seen.
He was just shy. How adorable. Looking for long enough, it
wasn't that hard to make out that his cheeks had flushed from
their usual light green to a little more tender pink colour, and
he seemed to be trying as hard as he could to not look at her.
She thought about the chance of him simply being nervous because
he may already have a marefriend, but given the circumstances,
he probably would have gone to live with her, or at least
brought her along if he did, so he must not have one. This was
going to turn out to be quite the interesting relationship as
flatmates after all; she who did not seem to understand the
concept of personal space and what it means to be in it, and he
who was shy, bashful, and nervous around other mares around his
age. Working with him around the house to try to break him out
of such a shell was going to be fun.
All of this she contemplated as he rummaged through his wagon,
pulling all of two important looking pieces of luggage from it
as she stood there, shielding him as best as she could from the
rain with her umbrella. The first looked like a standard duffel
bag, which she would have guessed had carried important things
like his clothes and other personal hygiene things; the basic
necessities for any travelling pony. The second bit of luggage
she wasn't as certain about, since it had a bit of a weird shape
to it. The best she could guess was that it was some kind of
music instrument, since that would probably be the best thing to
put in these oddly shaped containers. The question was though,
what kind of instrument was it?
He didn't seem to have as many reservations coming back up the
stairs with her, though this time, his skittishness most likely
taking a backseat to keeping his things dry this time around,
though that didn't seem to stop his cheeks from flaring back up
in their pinkish red colour. This walk must have been so
unsettling for him, and Snow was getting a kick out of it this
entire time. As soon as they reached the awning in front of her
flat, he stepped out from under the umbrella quite quickly, and
as she closed it up and shook the water drops off of it, he
opened the door, letting her go in first. Giving him a smile,
she quiped in a rather smooth tone, "Aren' you jus' th'roigh'
prop'r gen'lecolt?" a little throaty giggle followed that as she
passed him, looking him in the eye for a second as she added,
"Thank ya love."
After she stepped inside, she heard a shrill whistling that that
was already going pretty strong. Her eyes widened a little as
she trotted back into the kitchen to find the kettle spouting
steam in a constant plume as it called to be removed from the
burner. How did she forget that she had water on the stove here?
She turned off the oven and pushed the kettle away from the hot
burner, grabbing two cups from the cupboard and setting them on
the counter, one for herself and the other for Schwambart. In
the same cabinet, there were several boxes of teabags of varying
flavours, as well as both white and brown sugar. Being from
Trottingham, Snow took her tea more seriously than most. After
selecting a flavour to steep in her hot water, she wandered to a
stool at the counter, calling out, "Oy, Cappy, th'wat'r's done
boilin', come get'cha tea."
When he would come to get his tea, she would ask, "So ya gonna
be able t'tell tha' mare who let'cha stay with 'er tha' ya got
ya'self some livin' arrangemen's, yeah? Should prolly le' 'er
know pre'y quick so she dun' 'ave t'expect ya." She trailed off
after that before asking with a rather curious smile, maybe a
little out of the blue, but given Schwambart's earlier
behaviour, she was rather curious, "So d'ya 'ave a marefriend
there, Cappy? Ya seem loike a noice enuff koind'a guy."
#Post#: 628--------------------------------------------------
Re: Splitting the Rent
By: Schwambart Date: January 16, 2014, 7:58 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
If Snow's objective is to get a reaction out of him, it's a
success. The pink on his face, which had been receding when he
broke off from her, returns slightly at her posit of his
gentlecoltliness, accompanied by a smile. He'd always tried to
be one, and his mother and father had trained him well. He'd
had plenty of practice on his sisters, as well. "I try," he
says modestly before she meets his eye and says her next words.
His blush intensifies again with her last one, and he averts his
eyes again. "Er, y-you're welcome," he stammers out. He knows
(or at least is pretty sure) that she doesn't mean anything by
it, judging by how casually she'd been throwing it around
earlier, but it's not exactly normal conversational fare for
him. He wouldn't say anything, though, because that's just how
she talks and he doesn't want to seem like he's antagonizing her
or anything. Especially not this early in his stay here.
His most valuable cargo stowed away in his room, he comes to the
call of tea, taking his cup with a bright "Thanks," having had
enough time to deal with some of the flame in his cheeks. Hm,
flavor. Choices choices. He ends up just taking a bag at
random to steep in his cup, not really a tea connoisseur and
really just appreciating a flavor for his drink. He steps over
to the other stool, following her lead because he really doesn't
know how tea is made. He knows the concept of course, but just
how long does it need to steep? "Yeah, I'll be able to get the
info to her, but I'm pretty sure she's not expecting me back
anytime soon. We just woke up not too long ago, and she's a
night kind of pony. On the night shift of the weather team,
actually, so I wouldn't be surprised if she's off to work now or
soon. Maybe they'll let the rain up overnight so I can tell her
without getting soaked again." He looks out the window again.
"I wish I'd remembered my own umbrella."
He almost does a double-take at the question. In fact, if the
tea had been cool enough to drink then he probably would have
done a spit-take. As it is, it does cause him to cough once or
twice, blushing and clearing his throat, before he can answer.
"N-no, no marefriend." Never did have one, really, but she
doesn't need to know that yet. All of a sudden, his previous
and new living arrangements are beginning to strike a slightly
different tone with him. He was moving from the house of a mare
near his age to the flat of a mare who was also near his age.
And he'd never had a marefriend. Well. Um.
#Post#: 629--------------------------------------------------
Re: Splitting the Rent
By: Snowflake Date: January 16, 2014, 8:47 pm
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At the mention of the word 'marefriend', Schwambart seemed to
have a bit of a sudden reaction, coughing to himself and
clearing his throat. That blush also returned in force once
more, making Snow wonder just how shy Schwambart actually was.
She hasn't met a pony before who had taken this kind of subject
so squeamishly, but then again, she wasn't one of the mares who
would hang around with the groups that spent most of their time
getting into arts, musics, or other relatively pop cultural
things. She was much more of a partier, and after a few of those
and some alcohol in your blood, one seems to lose their
sensitivity to such delicate topics as marefriends and
coltfriends, but with Schwambart, honestly, he was grade-school
colt shy.
A few more thoughts ran through her head as a somewhat awkward
silence fell between them, and she sipped her tea a little
louder than usual as she focused intently on him, trying to
figure him out. So he doesn't have a marefriend right now, so
that brought up the question of if he even had a marefriend at
one point. How old was he? She tried to think about how many
different relationships she had for being only twenty-five, but
stopped that thought immediately. Schwambart didn't seem to be
the kind of pony who had a lot of experience being social,
unlike her, and probably would have been friends more with other
colts rather than taking a chance talking to other fillies,
especially not with this kind of reaction he was getting.
Figuring that the air had hung between them long enough for it
to become awkward, Snow decided to speak up again, this time
switching the subject, "... well, dun' le' tha' get'cha down,
love. Hey, wot was tha' ins'ramen' ya carried in'na th'flat? No'
e'ry day ya ge' t'see a musician, bu' Oi cawn' say Oi really go
outta moi way t'lis'en t'mos' of i'." That was the
understatement of the century; if she was forced to go to a
classical music recital, she would have probably ended up
falling asleep in the chairs. "Oi'm more'f a dawnce music koinda
pony. Ya know, drum 'n bass, house, dubstep, ya name i' yeah?
Yer family in'na much'a th'music scene? 'Cause Oi imagine wi'
all yer brothas an' sissas ya must'a been playin' togeth'r wi'
one'a 'em."
#Post#: 632--------------------------------------------------
Re: Splitting the Rent
By: Schwambart Date: January 16, 2014, 9:53 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Schwambart's mood perks up considerably, along with his ears, at
the new subject. This is something he can talk about. Family
and music, two of his favorites. "That one? That's a violin.
I started playing that in the fourth grade, kept right with it
until tenth. Then I got into the choir and couldn't do both,
and well...I was just better at singing. In fact," he says,
giving a slap to his cutie mark, a staff with a short note
progression ending in a 3-note chord, and turning it towards
her, "it turned out to be my talent. Boy was it a relief when I
finally earned it, too. I've never heard of anypony getting one
as late as me." Heck, that might have been part of his social
problems, though he'd at least like to think that he was at
least among peers who chose not to befriend him because they
were incompatible rather than just his simple lack of an
apparent talent. "I don't really play it much anymore and
aren't as good as I used to be, and it may not be a
Saddlevarius, but it's still probalby one of my more valuable
possessions. One of the first things that was really mine."
Which was big, coming from a family as big as his where most
everything was practically community property.
"Still, though," he continues, resetting himself in his seat and
taking a sip from his tea, "I fit in pretty well with my family.
Beyond the violin, I also know a bit of piano and can play the
guitar semi-convincingly. I even have a drum set back home.
Everypony does some music. My mom's talent is the piano, my
oldest brother plays the trumpet and Prench horn, my older
brother plays the guitar and trombone, my twin brother plays the
viola, my oldest sister is learning the piano, another sister
can play the guitar a little, the third plays trombone, my
fourth sister plays just about anything she can get her hooves
on..." He trails off a little bit, eyes distant. "I wish I
could have as easy a time with it as..." He shakes his head and
returns to the present, smile wide. "Anyway, most of us play
instruments, but that's not our family trademark. We *all*
sing, and we're all pretty good. Even dad, who wasn't born into
the family, isn't even a slouch in it. I'm the only one who
ended up with a Talent for it, though. We've been told by
plenty of ponies that if we sold music they'd definitely buy
it."
"Not that we're all restricted to Classical music either,
really," he continues after taking another couple of sips from
his tea. "It sounds to me like my second-oldest brother and
second-oldest sister would be pretty in line with your musical
tastes. Me, I try to take songs by their individual merits, not
their genres, but I never really got into the more 'dance'
music, probalby because..." He clears his throat and forces
himself not to look away. "Well, I don't really think I need to
finish that thought, do I? B-but the bottom line is I listen to
something if I find it pleasant to listen to. In fact, I
ironically tend to listen to more instrumental music than vocal.
Kinda strange, I thought."
#Post#: 635--------------------------------------------------
Re: Splitting the Rent
By: Snowflake Date: January 16, 2014, 11:29 pm
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So his family, a rather large family at that, was also into a
whole load of music as well. Not just into the music, but
playing it as well. She could only imagine what an entire house
of ponies trying to practice different instruments at the same
time would sound like, but she could probably guess that the
parents must have been incredibly patient with them. "Cor, yer
entoir fawm'ly in'na music? Tha's go'a ge' pre'y crazy 'round
th'olidays wi' th'fawm'ly reunions an' wotnot. Prolly dun' sound
too bad wi' th'lot of ya, which would be pre'y damn sick. Oi
din' grow up wi' any brothas or sissas, was an only choild
moiself, an' really, all Oi 'ad t'keep me en'natain'd was
jus'... things Oi guess. Oi never really took notice of
th'things, awll Oi wanted t'do was go see moi friends and 'ave a
good toime wi' that lot."
As she continued to listen to him, she pulled over a small jar
of brown sugar, scooping two heaping teaspoons into her tea and
mixing it around. She always liked her tea to be particularly
strong, which explained why she left it in there for so long,
and the hot water was now a slight blue colour for the blueberry
tea that she chose. After mixing in the sugar, she scooped the
teabag out of the water, waiting until it stopped dripping
before dropping it on a little plate on the table that had been
stained by the water of previous teas. Afterwards, she lifted
the cup to her mouth, testing it once with the tip of her tongue
and flinching when she realized it was still a little too hot.
So instead, she set it back down and began pushing the spoon
about in the cup as she listened to Schwambart discuss why he
doesn't listen to 'dance' genres.
"Don' lis'en t'dawnce 'cause wot? Ya jus' dun' loike i'? Or's i'
jus' 'cause ya dun' really dawnce when ya lis'en to i'." She
leaned forward on her elbows, and said with a grin, "Troof be
told, love, Oi dun' usually dawnce much eith'r when Oi lis'en to
i', bu' then again, nopony really dawnces to i'." Leaning back
after she said that, she asked, "Ya ev'a been to a noigh'club?
S'loike a place tha' only plays dawnce music, an' a whoooole lo'
of ponies 'dawnce' to i', bu' if ya jus' watch for'a bi', awll
i' is is ponies jumpin' up an' down an' flailin' their heads an'
legs 'owever feels rythm'ic an' roigh'. Sho', ya see th'
'cassional mare groindin' agains' a stallion, bu' tha's jus'
anoth'a way t'dawnce, moind you if ya troi anythin' loike tha',
ya'd get funny looks." Snow's eyes lit up as she finished that
thought, and an idea jumped into her head, "Ya know wot? One'a
these weekends, Oi'll take ya t'one'a these clubs 'ere in
Ponyville, jus' a li'l somethin' t'ge' ou' an' loosen up, ya
feel me? Trus' me, Oi think yer gonna 'ave a grea' toime!"
#Post#: 636--------------------------------------------------
Re: Splitting the Rent
By: Schwambart Date: January 17, 2014, 12:29 am
---------------------------------------------------------
Schwambart follows Snow's lead on the tea, minus the adding of
the brown sugar. Hm, red. Maybe strawberry or cherry.
Raspberry? Maybe he should have paid more attention when he was
picking it out. Not that it really matters that much to him.
The bag goes on the plate with Snow's, but he doesn't try
drinking it yet. The last thing he needs is a burned tongue.
Well, not the very last thing, but not something he wants,
surely. "No, I never have been to a nightclub. Sounds
dangerous, like a large block of wood that's used nocturnally.
Or something. It never really seemed like the kind of place I
would..." He trails off as he looks outside. It's not raining
anymore. "Neat, the downpour's over." He stands and stretches,
leaving his tea where it is for now. "I've got to go get my
room set up. Shouldn't take but a moment, just a few boxes and
a desk." He sets off to the door and exits, excited to be
finally setting himself up. What a day.
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Four days later, Schwambart is pulling a pot of spaghetti off
the burner. He'd taken to cooking pretty easily, though the
times he did it were a bit erratic. Hooves covered, he brings
the pot over to the sink with the waiting colander to drain it
before putting it back into the pot and adding in the sauce. He
uses the store-bought noodles, not really up to trying to make
his own yet, but at least the sauce is his own creation. A
little bland next to the kinds purchasable for pretty cheap, but
he's been getting better about it. He's just getting acquainted
with the use of the various spices he's been buying, that's all.
He leaves the pot on the stovetop to cool while he opens the
fridge. He has, true to his intentions, stocked up on a few
different drinks, probably spending more than he should have on
them. A fruit punch is his choice for today, and he pours some
into a glass on the counter before returning it to its place.
From there he returns to a cabinet and grabs out a plate and a
fork out of a drawer, then scoops up a healthy serving of the
pasta onto the plate for himself. Before eating, though, he
sets about making sure all the leavings from his preparations
are cleaned up, his spice jars on the rack, dishes in the sink
and ready for rinsing, and that tomato he'd dropped on the floor
swept up and disposed of.
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