Brown
Today is a joyous day. Today was a day just for him. Today was a time to be happy. His dainty feet feel the oaken floor, and his ears hear the planks squeal faintly from the strain as he stands upon them, slight noise or no. The room is dim, but the curtains show the distinct shade of midday light; he can't help but appreciate the little gesture, the boy usually doesn't wake up this late, but just for today he was allowed to sleep in. "C'mon, c'mon- perfect!" Slipping on a loose gray shirt and a pair of shorts- for comfort and ease of wear, of course- young Bruno left his room to celebrate the rest of the day, a special day, his day.
Squeak went the floorboards of the second floor as his steps tread on them rapidly, quickly approaching the stairs for the delicious meal that was certainly waiting for him if what he was smelling was any indication. "Sweet, my favorite!" A simple soup of cream and mushroom paired with fried chicken and gravy; simple on paper, but given love in its creation, that smell was unmistakable alongside the various meals that awaited him. He was a growing lad, he needed his food and food he'd get, that's what his dad had told him many times before.
"Son, get over here! I can hear you, you know!" He hears his father call out as he treads the stairs, and at the sound of that warmth and welcoming, his steady tread turns into a swift rush downwards. The silly boy even trips a few times here and there, but he nevertheless succeeds in getting down. It's so close, they're so close. That… Warmth!
He runs, but he feels that dread in his heart. All around him he feels it, the growing height of the walls, the sluggishness in his step, that gleaming doorway at the end of the hall growing ever and ever so distant as the halls themselves seemed to grow longer, and longer. And the light grows darker and darker. And everything feels… Duller, and duller…
Hazel eyes open to plain ceilings and walls veiled in the dimness caused by the thick curtains. The AC turned off a long time ago, and it seems that he's woken up sweating like a pig as a result. The air beneath his blanket is disconcertingly humid, and he gasps and gasps in dry breath, smacking his parched lips as saliva slowly returned to his mouth. "Damn, still a mouthbreather while sleeping eh?" The wolf faunus can't help but remark as he rises up from his lying form, the cooler ambient air dispelling the humid warmth that he was wrapped in with his now discarded blanket.
"Need some light in here…" He stands from his bed, quickly noticing the time on his clock,"Ah crap, afternoon already, oh well." Bruno pulls open the curtains like pulling off duct-tape from hairy skin, needless to say, he flinches and groans from the sudden onslaught of afternoon light.
He can't help but swear a little, "FUCK!" At least there was lighting here now, none of that depressing fluorescent lighting that buzzed you into boredom and lethargy, right here was primo sunlight to start the day right with, no matter how late.
"Mmm, smells like dog in there." He sniffs his clothes, they're drenched from his sweat and other such odors, "Right, shower first before we get shit done." His are brisk, cold things that ensured he was clean and properly groomed for the rest of the day, a routine of less than ten minutes.
He slips on a loose gray shirt and a pair of shorts. Today was one of those boring days he'd need to fill up with things to do and to occupy himself with, "Might as well do it comfortably." Brown eyes stare into a mirror, and he sees his form, staring right back at him, "Hmm."
He prepares to leave but notices something by the doorway, a small sheet of paper seemingly slipped under his door. "Gone to do stuff, be back by 11PM, love mom." The impromptu letter reads, and Bruno can't help but let a small and earnest smile show on his face; perhaps this day wouldn't be that boring after all, he could enjoy it without an aggravating presence.
"No nagging, yelling, and over-repeating, today is a day of wonders it seems." He muses quietly with a nod; he breathes in deeply, and then lets it all out, "LET'S FUCKING GO!"
The distraught yell of a distant neighbor and something breaking in the distance is but another little happening to bring a bigger smile to his face, "Can you Rutherfords keep it down?!" The disgruntled expletives he can hear with his lupine ears bring him over the tipping point, and he's beset with a wave of childish giggling.
Ah, the absurdity of reality; one of the many coping mechanisms Bruno employs to keep the edge away and to retain himself in his true form, a blunt bubbly bastard. "Highly successful, if I do say so myself!" He leaves his room with a chuckle, this day has gone well early on it seems, "Bad twists inbound, life has lemons aplenty but that just gives me material for my lemonade megacorporation. Rutherford Lemon Company, has a nice zing and zazz to it."
The fact that there was indeed, lemonade in the fridge as he would find out later in the day would bring him to yet another round of raucous laughter. But now was the time for breakfast, or brunch, "But if I'm eating in a time between lunch and dinner, wouldn't it be 'linner' or 'dunch'?" His mind often wondered about the great mysteries of the universe, "Dunch rolls off the tongue better, dunch it is." He also prided himself in solving some of them; each one was a very, very important question regarding life and the universe, of course.
"Hmm, dunch rolls… I wonder if that's a thing." VERY important questions needing answers.
The door opens and his eyes are greeted with the sight of a moderately lit hallway, with all of the lights off, there was nothing but sunlight filtering in from the windows, revealing motes of dust flying about as he moved by them. Each step caused the floorboards to creak, his acute hearing ensuring he heard each and every consequence of his steps. Each one sounded unique, each one had times where their sounds were a repeat of what came before when he stepped on them over again, and each one sounded rich and firm.
This house was old. "It's remarkable how unremarkable this old house is, though." No small wonder then, that his parents were able to purchase it in the first place, without going through too many hoops as a faunus in those times he had lived in, "And then there's that whole mess about being an interracial couple, blegh."
It was remarkable, how difficult it was and still is.
The rest of his "pre-doing literally anything" routine was a blur, but it consisted of gorging on a combination of bacon and eggs mixed with last night's leftovers and parching himself some more with the lemonade in the fridge right after. Nutrition, played straight…
Time blurred again into indistinct events as he moved about, doing work in the house to pass as much time as possible; to get from "scorching afternoon" to "not so scorching afternoon" without becoming sleepy from the boredom of doing nothing.
The sun was less oppressive by now, with the ambient light now slowly edging towards a bright yellow than a searing white, and would soon be orange as the sun set further and further in the sky. A perfect time as any to sweat oneself to a stupor in beating the shit out of Bob; warm but not too warm as to suffer a heatstroke, cool but not cool enough to chill oneself into leaving. Perfect training hours, so to speak.
"Alright Bob, here's the deal." Bruno was going to burn a patch into the grass with all the pacing he was doing, muttering to someone all the while, "I hit your everything, you take it all like a champ, and I patch you up right afterwards for free, any questions or violent reactions?"
The shoddily carved face on the training dummy gave him a crooked- if permanently so- smile, but was silent all the while.
"Oh come on, you know how important consent is and all!" The wolf faunus practically bayed in frustration with a shaken and pointed hand aimed at the dummy, "I can't make heads or tails if you're saying yes or no Bob! Come on, give me something!"
The dummy swayed slightly with the passing of an afternoon wind, the nail-carved smile on it unchanged as always.
"I'll take that as a yes… HUAH!" Fist connects squarely with huntsman-grade material, earth-rooted dummy bends back, and then the springs kick in, causing it to surge forward with slightly less- but still formidable- force, "Haah!"
Distinct brown light briefly flashes as he Parries the dummy's counterattack, and it abruptly stands still as its kinetic energy is absorbed. Bruno doesn't even flinch once before he returns with another punch, then a Parry, then a right hook followed into a knee from the left leg, Parry, and Parry.
A thousand hits, ten thousand, ten times ten thousand, all with growing aplomb and ferocity to bring about that burning feeling in his muscles, the tired stupor that he seeks. Hit and Parry, hit and Parry, hit and Parry, until it all becomes dulled, until conscious action seeps into his muscle deep enough to become unconscious, until two hits can be fit into the timespan of one, then three into two, then three into one. And so on, and so on…
Each blow lands with a resounding crack, like a muffled gunshot going off, and sweat flies as his arms and legs work their wonders upon the dummy; he's turned from a quick kickboxer into a veritable blur of punches and kicks, all with every Parry. The shadows lengthen as yellow light fades away into oranges and eventually reds, and soon enough as he lands one more blow, there is naught but the dim blue light of the early evening.
His final blow is a feint as he pours in all of his semblance into one final punch, only for it to end merely a few centimeters from the training dummy's face. An audible gust of wind is the result, more akin to the crack of a whip with thunderous tones rather than the gentle gusts of the afternoon from earlier.
With sweat-laced forehead and sore muscles, the young faunus unceremoniously lays back on the grass, his eyes now pointed at the darkening sky above; already were a few stars coming out with the growing dimness of it all.
He raises himself from the ground with a chuckle, contentedness evident in his relaxed mannerisms. "Well would you look at that? This day was actually great!" He remarked with a nod, "Great job by the way Bob, you really held your ground like a champ there." He gives the dummy a pat on the head, and receives the usual unchanging smile from its haphazardly carved face.
The growling of his stomach quickly pulls him out of his reverie, and with a wordless agreement with his gut, he leaves without a peep of noise for the kitchens.
"Right, time to cook something." He had, unfortunately, eaten all of the leftovers from last night during dunch. Dinner would be something unique today, like a bowl of powdered mushroom soup mixed with a variety of meats. Nothing too fancy but at least it was going to something.
Bruno spent the rest of the day watching the latest humorous images on his scroll, and would've continued until he was bored enough to be tired if not for the sound of knocking on his door.
"I'm home! Bruno open the damn door!"
"Welp, all good things must come to an end." Bruno remarked to himself in an ironically blithe manner, "Such is the way of things…"
A/N: Trying out new formats with these Author's Notes, and I'm thinking bolded italics will do perfectly. Sorry for the long wait by the way, Bruno Rutherford proved to be difficult to write about, but with a bit of thinking I managed to write it down. This chapter oddly enough, is also currently one the deviating when it comes to the original outline that I wrote up.
Review and stuff, next chapter might either be on Sunday or next Saturday (exam week coming up). As a certain Fabstodes says, no promises are made. See you lads and lassies, I'm going to wrack my head through studying now.