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Private rp; Remy, Kaja, and Rai

Remy was tired. Not the form of tired where you wanted to go to sleep; no, that would have been too easy to deal with, considering he was up in his room. Heck, he was SITTING on his bed, which by association meant that if he wanted to take a nap, it'd be easy. Except that wasn't the sort of tired he was.

No, he was bored tired. The sort of tired that tends to kick in a few weeks into summer vacation, when the excitement of not having to go to school has been replaced with a constant feeling of 'well now what?' And wondering what to do next was a puzzler.

Kaja was basically no help. His older sister was almost never around these days, too preoccupied with exploring the local swamps with her turtles. Remy supposed that he could accompany her if he REALLY wanted, but Kaja was kinda weird when she was out there. And she talked to the turtles all the time, which was even weirder. Especially since it wasn't in the good way he talked to their pet felis; no, Kaja seemed to think that the turtles would talk back.

And even if he WASN'T a bit put off by the whole turtle-talking thing, Remy hated the swamps. They were slimy and gross and stank, and while he loved getting dirty as much as the next kid, he's stick with good, honest dirt and keep out of the grime.

Sighing, he rolled over onto his back, staring very moodily up at the ceiling. It was an interesting enough ceiling, since his mother had painted a neat map up there for him to stare at and imagine about; normally, he loved to look up and ponder what things the inhabitants of said ceiling world were up to. But he'd already done that today, and the allure of the ceiling world was gone.

"So bored..." Sighing, he blew aside the red forelock that crossed one eye, then smiled wryly as he decided that that action was the most interesting thing he'd done all day.

He douldn't ask his mother for input as to what he should do; declaring that you were bored or didn't know what to do meant that you were BEGGING to do chores, and he didn't feel like dusting today. Or ever, in fact, as dusting was a pointless exercise, since the dust always came back. He'd have to come up with something to do on his own, and that was the trouble.

Sitting up, he ran his hand through his hair in abject exasperation, frowning slightly as his fingers encountered a small lump. He STILL had that lump? Man, it had been what, two weeks since he'd first noticed that lump? If anything, it was getting bigger!

Well, that was life for you. He must have hit his head or something, though how he'd not noticed doing that was a mystery. Even if he hadn't hurt, he'd still have felt the touch, or heard the sound, or SOMETHING. He must have hit it on the headboard of his bed in his sleep, or something like that. Lumps didn't just crop up on their own, right?

Shrugging, he pulled his hand away from his head and flopped over again, staring out the window this time. Maybe he'd go to the park...

One of the problems with playgrounds was the fact that they were utterly random. Not random in the sense that you didn't know what you'd find; no, as a rule playgrounds were pretty constant. The one Remy liked to play at had the basic playground components; swings, jungle gym, slides, monkey bars, and all those other relevent elements of childhood pleasure (and pain, metaphorically speaking).

The randomness came into play when one was talking about WHO they met. All too often it seemed like there was no one else there, or only really little kids with their parents, or those older teens who liked to lean up against the jungle gym and not really do anything but stand. Actually finding someone FUN was the hard part.

Still, Remy had never needed to have company to have fun. He'd always liked the monkey bars, and they weren't really something you could use with lots of other people anyway; more people just meant that you had to wait a long time for a turn to use them, and waiting for your turn was really boring.

Today was shaping up to be one of those days when Remy got to contemplate isolation. Knees draped over the bar of the monkey bars, Remy dangled upside down with his hands behind his head. Hanging upside down was always neat, because it gave you a weird tingly feeling in your head that apparently came from having all the blood run there from the rest of your body; he supposed that was also why people's faces tended to turn red when they were upside-down for a long time.

He was probably pretty red himself right now, which meant that his hair probably looked oranger than ever. Crossing his eys, Remy stared at one particularly close bit of hair that hung over his face, uncrossing his arms to physically hold the hair close enough to look at. HE thought it was reddish, but Kaja liked to call him a pumpkin head on account of his hair was 'orangish.' Of course, Kaja's hair was RED, really dark red, even redder than blood, so she had some sort of weird complex about HIS hair.

He couldn't see how it mattered, really, nor did he care. Well, that was what he told his sister, at least, but ever since she's first called him pumpkin head he'd been extra paranoid, always trying to look at his hair and see what was 'orange' about it.

Today seemed like any other day though, all things considered; his hair was the same color it always was. Kaja was just silly, really.

Nodding (upsidedown) in agreement with him, Remy went back to crossing his arms, but not before gingerly feeling that one spot on his head again. Still a lump, but at least it wasn't soft; he KNEW it wasn't soft because he'd poked it, and it was a solid lump. That was a good thing, right? Having soft spots on your head meant your skull had to have gotten mushy or something, and then it would be easy for your brains to spill out if you got hit on the head. Or something like that.

Still, it probably wouldn't hurt to talk to his mother about the lump, and maybe have her look at it. A few weeks was a really long time to have one bump, after all, and it might be something extra bad. He didn't want to have to go to the clinic any more times than were absolutely necessary, thanks much!

His legs folded cross-legged beneath him, Remington sat in the small stand of trees behind their house with an expression of quiet thoughtfulness.

It was so peaceful back here, especially on days like today. Though traces of summer still lingered on in the green of the grass and the warmth of the sunshine, there was a certain bite to the breeze that told Remy that fall was just aroun the corner...if not already arrived.

Tilting his head back, he stared up into the multihued foliage of the canopy above him, the faded greens of late summer blending seamlessly with the golds and oranges and reds of fall.

As he sat there looking, one leaf detached itself from the tree and floated down to land on Remy's knee, a burnt orange leaf almost the exact same color as his hair. After looking at it for a moment, he picked it up and twirled it around between his thumb and forefinger, the thoughtful look never leaving his face.

Another fall, another set of raining leaves, another school year; life went on in the same sort of rotation it always employed. Funny how things could change so much and still be the same...

Sighing, he let the breeze catch the burnt leaf and swirl it away, pulling his denim jacket tighter around himself and leaning against the tree. It was nice here, here alone with his thoughts. Much better than being in school.

Good thing he'd decided to skip today.

Scratching absently at her head with the eraser end of a pencil, Caj walked across the downstairs hallway from the living room to the kitchen without seeming to take any notice of her surroundings. Like a person in a dream, she picked her way through the backpacks, shoes, coats, schoolbooks, and other leavings of her two children without lifting her eyes from the sheaf of papers in her hand OR tripping over any of the many obstacles in her way. Not too bad, if she did say so herself; or rather, not bad if she were actually paying attention.

Making her way to the table, she dropped into a chair, then deposited the sheaf of papers in a neat stack in front of her. Twirling the pencil between thumb and index finger, she ran her gaze down the neat columns of numbers that covered the topmost paper, then made a face. Accouting. How she hated accounting. Always with numbers that ALMOST, but didn't QUITE, balance....

Peeking around the kitchen doorway, Remington watched his mother for a moment in total silence. He'd been waiting for her to get home from work a lot longer than he'd thought he'd have to, and as a result was more than a little bit impatient. However, he knew better than to just barge in with demands when his mother had 'the face.' Ever since he was very small, he had held 'the face' in no small amount of awe. Granted, his older sister Kaja had been the one to explain The Face's significance to him, and older sisters were not always entirely upfront when explaining serious matters to younger siblings...But even knowing that, he still had a healthy respect for "The Face". It meant that his mother was thinking; thinking very hard, without getting any enjoyment out of it. Not good.

So he gave her a few minutes more, waiting and watching from the doorway like a mouse. A tall, redheaded mouse.

But a few minutes was all that he could manage before he gave up and strode loudly into the kitchen. "Mom, do you have any idea what time it is?" A polite way of saying, 'geez you're late!"

Glancing up from her numbers with the slightly glazed expression of one whose attention hasn't been wholly diverted from its previous occupation, Cajmera glanced at her son in absent confusion. "Nine-thirty, isn't it?"

Coming to a halt beside the table, Remington crossed his arms over his chest and gave the answer a solemn nod. "Yes, it's nine-thirty. Mom, you said you'd be home from work over two hours ago. Remember, we were going to go out to dinner tonight?"