Smexyful testing - do not click, do not post.

[Bifflestick]

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

it must be death
because it's stolen my life

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

Dorian phased long before a plan formulated in his head. He was far enough from the others now that they'd not be able to catch him, and now they didn't know where he was it was even easier. He roughly pulled his shorts from the band around his ankle and pulled them on. He rarely wore a shirt anymore - he didn't need to, with the temperature he was always running - though he was actually incredibly insecure about his body. But around the rest of the pack, it didn't matter. Nudity was something they just had to get used to. It was a part of their life now. Unavoidable. Not particularly great, seeing each other naked after they phased, but unavoidable. He heard howls behind him, his pack calling him back, but he ignored them. Kyle would fill the void left by him. As second in command, it was his job to take over when the Alpha decided he didn't want to deal. Knowing Kyle as he did, Dorian knew they'd go back to La Push, and then he'd just meet them there later. And Dorian knew Kyle very well - having such an intimate view into someone's head created that. He loped slowly through the trees, knowing where he was heading but not admiting it to himself. He went there every single day, without fail. Always. It was sad and pathetic, but Dorian always had been a big softie under it all. He followed and unfamiliar path to the very familar place, allowing his mind to wander and land where it always landed - Ella.

It hurt. Just thinking her name hurt. It hurt so much that Dorian wished he was dead just to end it. Something was keeping him around, though, and it wasn't Ella. She was dead. He knew that. So what was it? Losing the girl he'd imprinted on...shouldn't it have torn him into pieces? Kyle should be leading Jamie and Mike now. Dorian should have ran away or killed himself or something. Too bad that it was so bloody difficult to kill a werewolf, or Dorian was sure he actually would have ended it by now. It was torture, being around without her. Pure torture. It felt like his heart was being slowly ripped apart, though it kept beating. He often didn't sleep at night, because everytime he closed his eyes it was her face that he saw. He couldn't take dreaming about her, too. It would be too much. He felt bad for the rest of the pack. Between them, him and Jamie must be driving them stark raving bonkers. Dorian with his constant depression and Jamie with his love sick happiness. Mike rarely complain - kid was so damn happy all the time Dorian figured he probably didn't even notice that their leader was so depressed - and Kyle tried not to, but found it hard. It just came out sometimes. It was easier when their minds were not linked, when they couldn't hear every thought, half thought and maybe thought that each other had. Mike kept everyone's spirits up - happy little freak - and Dorian brought them down. It kind of evened out that way, though Dorian knew Kyle and Jamie wished Dorian could just be happy. But how could he be? Ella was dead. Jamie had Laura, Mike was just too damn happy all the time and was yet to get really interested in girls, and Kyle was perfectly content having flings and one night stands - it was all he really wanted. He didn't like the idea of imprinting, of having his will taken away, so he was enjoying his freedom while he could. He was always inviting Dorian out, but the blonde always refused, much to Kyle's disappointment. Aparently, the ladies loved a blonde. Not that Dorian would know - he hadn't paid any attention to girls since Ella.

He arrived there then. Their meadow. The place that Dorian and Ella had made their own. Large and rougly circular, with a tree about in the centre which Dorian had hung a tyre swing off for her. It was empty now, desolate, and the grass needed cutting pretty badly - it came up to Dorian's knees. Not that he cared. Every day he came here and sat. Or stood. Or swung, sometimes, and just thought. Thought about Ella, about losing her, about living without her. About leading the pack, about how Mike was coming along well. Kid was a fast learner, Dorian had to give him that. Dorian and Mike ran rounds together, though he preferred to do so with Kyle. Mike talked constantly and Jamie was just too in love to bear. At least Kyle was relatively quiet. But Mike was still learning, and so he had to go out with the Alpha. Pack rules, as made by Dorian. Stupid pack rules. He wished he hadn't made them. But he'd trained Kyle, and he'd trained Jamie, and they had turned out very well. He had to train Mike too, to give him the same training that he gave the others. As the first to go through all this out of all of them, Dorian was the best one to go to. He knew everything there was to know about their limitations, what they could do and what just shouldn't be attempted under any circumstances. When it had happened to him, Dorian had made sure to test every limit he could think of, just to see what he was capable of. He knew what hurt, how fast things healed, and several ways of commiting suicide that simply did not work for them. They were too tough, and healed too fast. It just wasn't possible. There was probably some way, but it would involve far too much pain to be worth it. They might heal fast, but they still felt pain clear as day.

There was a light movement behind him, but Dorian ignored it. Probably a squirrel or something - they were always walking across the meadow. He stood staring at the trees, his thoughts on Ella, when he heard someone start humming. Jumping about a foot in the air, his heart pounding violently against his ribcage, Dorian spun around, sky blue eyes wide. Sitting on Ella's swing - sitting on her damn swing - sat someone so beautiful she could only be a vampire. A fraction of a second later the smell hit and Dorian pulled a face. Eugh. But something about her was...familiar. He frowned, tilting his head. Her hair...looked like Ella's. But her eyes were flat black. Dorian knew that meant she needed to feed. He glowered at her, hating her invading his space, resenting the fact that she was sitting on the swing that he had made specially for Ella. Not for some stinking vampire! Shudders began to roll through him, followed by waves of heat. His hands were trembling uncontrolably, and though he tried to stop it, before he knew what was happening he'd phased, not even noticing the ripping sound that was his shorts being torn into oblivion. He snarled viciously at her, anger still roiling in him. She. Was. On. Ella's. Swing. If she knew what was good for her, she'd get off the swing before Dorian forcibly removed her, and then relieved her of some of her limbs. And then burnt her and watched the cloying, horrid purple smoke curl up into the sky. If she knew what was good for, as she clearly didn't, as she was still sitting there.

His gaze, for whatever reason, drifted to her hands. On the thumb of one of them was a silver ring with a red gem set in it. Dorian's growls suddenly stopped as he stared, gobsmacked, at the ring. It was the ring that he'd bought Ella. Suddenly, a new desire ripped through him, not to kill but to understand. Then to kill. Without a second thought, Dorian pushed his anger aside and phased back to his human form, eyes cold but burning angrily at her. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?!" he roared, going over to her and grabbing her by the shoulders, shaking her hard, ignoring the freezing temperature of her sking, and how rock hard it was. He shoved her away disgustedly, pacing back a few steps. "What did you do to her, you murderous leech? I loved her! I LOVED HER! AND YOU...YOU KILLED HER!" he yelled. It hadn't occured to him that she wouldn't have any idea what the hell he was talking about, but he didn't care. He glowered at her, anger and disgust plain on his face. Slowly, he began to notice where he gaze was directed, and that his shorts had been ripped. Blood rushed to colour his face and neck a bright, unflattering shade of scarlet as he realised he was standing fully naked in front of this vampire chick who was wearing Ella's ring, screaming at her about the girl she'd killed while she had no idea what he was on about. The blush paralysied him, and he stood there, mortified and awkward, wanting to run but unable to do anything but stare at her, be extremely red and mentally curse himself for being such an idiot.

[Bifflestick]

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

lets get lost
i know the way
i've been there before

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

Darius raised an eyebrow slowly as he watched James Hannigan lick his lips. Now, wasn't that just darling? Darius couldn't help but smirk to himself, something sparking in the depths of his eyes, so dark that you had to be insanely close to see where the irises ended and the pupils began, and even then it was hard to tell the difference. Someone had punched his charge, and Darius was willing to bet most everything he had that it had been Charles. His brother didn't do dirty work - he left that to his volatile and impulsive best friend. James might be a stupid drug addict, but he was sneaky and manipulative and he knew exactly how to get Charles - not the brightest bulb in the box - to do what he wanted. He'd been doing it for years, after all. But now here was this rather attractive young man sitting there all tied up and licking his lips, and Darius couldn't help but allow his imagination run a little wild. Oh, he'd never try anything. He may be the King of the One Night Stand, but he wasn't about to try anything on poor little James Hannigan, who had already been beat up by an idiot with a death wish and tied up by a drug addict with no morals. What a great way to start the day. If it had been Darius tied up in that chair, he wasn't sure he'd be quite so calm. He may be more even tempered than his brother - though it wasn't hard to be more even tempered than James - but Darius didn't like to be messed with. Then again, he wasn't the most imposing of physical specimins. He was tall, and more muscular than his lean frame gave away, but that didn't mean he was very strong. His brother often over powered him, actually, despite being a good seven inches shorter. No, Darius wasn't a fighter. Not really.

Darius snorted when James asked if he was related to Charles. "Hardly. If I were related to Charles, I may actually be forced to take drastic action. No, my brother is James Donovan. Knowing my brother as I do, his plan probably wasn't that sophisticated, so I am guessing he was driving. I sincerely hope that you laid a good one on Charles. I really do. Especially considering what he did to your pretty face," Darius commented, moving over to James and running a finger gently over his jaw, then brushing the blood off his fingers and backing off again. He barely even noticed when he flirted anymore - it was practicaly second nature to him. He listened absently while James explained why his brother had kidnapped him, nodding absently. In all honesty, Darius wasn't actually that interested. He was just interested as to why his brother would bother with this guy. He had to be someone pretty damn important for James to bother with him, and from what he'd said, James Hannigan was important. Or, at least, his father was, and he'd pay a nice amount to see his pretty son released. "And you don't think daddy dearest would pay a pretty penny to see you free again? Because evidently, those two prats do," Darius said, giving James a slow smile. Damnit, why was he flirting with this guy? Andy would steal some crap and bail out James and Charles and then they'd be back here and Darius could flee to some far flung corner of the planet and hide out there for a while. That was how he dealt with crap - he ran and hid. Not the most mature of tactics, sure, but it had always worked well for him so Darius had no plans to change it anytime soon. And besides, he liked going and finding some place new to hide, someplace he'd never been to before, a place with new people and new sights and smells. A place with people who didn't know him, who were responsive to flirting and charm and that slow, sexy smile that Darius unwittingly laid on everyone he met, because it was just how he was. He didn't realise he was doing it, and he didn't realise the effect it had on people. And he never would, no matter how many times he did it and how many times that smile worked it's magic.

Darius simply raised his eyebrows, looking at his charge curiously as he stood, having got out of his restraints. He smirked when James told him not to piss himself. James didn't know Darius, so he didn't know that Darius didn't piss himself about anything. He was pretty much worry free. Laid back until you really got him going, Darius had barely a care in the world. A good job, a nice flat, a new person to sleep with every night, enough money in the bank to keep him going for the rest of his life if he wanted. But he worked regardless, wanting to do something, anything, to keep himself occupied. Most people were incredibly surprised to discover that Darius Donovan was actually Doctor Darius Donovan. Mostly because he never let on, least of all to the people he slept with. Well, he was almost a doctor, anyway. In his last years of medical school, he was soon to be a doctor. His job now was good, and paid well, if it wasn't perfect. He'd be a doctor soon, and that was all that mattered. He wanted to make a difference, and to Darius, being a doctor was worth it. If he could save just one life, then it would all be worth it. The years of school, the hard work, all of it. It was a good job he wasn't at school at the moment, or James would have been screwed. There was no way Darius would miss any of his education for some ridiculous plot his brother had cooked up. Despite coming over as a flirty manwhore, Darius was intelligent and empathetic...he just rarely showed it. Because when all you wanted from people was sex, what did it matter? In the grand scheme of things? It didn't. So they didn't know he was training to be a doctor, or that he wasn't some callous manwhore with no feelings. Most people didn't. Darius was a strange character, it was true, but he got by just fine, and rarely had a night where he felt lonely, if he was alone or with someone else.

Darius watched absently as James rummaged through the medical kit to find something to hold against his still dripping nose. He sighed when the other male asked him what he was supposed to do here, and watched as he pulled out a mobile. Oh, that wasn't a good thing. He almost laughed when James said his brother would be angry with him. Right! If he called the police, and they actually came, Darius would be long gone by the time they arrived. He'd leave the country, and by the time he got back James would either still be in jail and would have forgotten about it, or he'd be out and would have forgotten about it. Either way, his brother wouldn't really remember - he had the memory of a goldfish, except not quite a clear. He watched as James Hannigan actually did dial 911, and he sighed heavily, bending down to lift an old slingshot from the side of the sofa. He couldn't believe they were still there. He loaded it with a marble - he couldn't believe they were still their, either - and aimed. He let go casually, the marble flying through the air and smacking into the phone, and the fingers holding it. Darius tucked the slingshot into the waistband of his jeans and sauntered over to where James was. "Never do that when the person taking care of you has perfect aim," Darius said softly, before bringing the heel of his left foot down hard on to the phone, cracking it, then lifting it and throwing it against the wall, smashing it into pieces. He raised his eyebrows at the other male, smirking lightly. "Now then, eye candy, let's make some ground rules. I am here because my brother asked me to be. Basically, I told my mother I'd take care of the idiot, and I am nothing if not a man of my word. So here I am, taking care of you while he is in jail waiting to get bailed out. He'd never think to ask me to bail him out, would he? With the money in our bank, he'd be out tomorrow. But no, he's too dumb for that. Anyway, rules," Darius said, licking his lips slowly, staring at the other male. But damn, this was too much fun.

In a slow, deliberate movement, Darius removed the key - that had a piece of string attatched - from his pocket and moved to lock the door to the warehouse, before slipping the string around his neck and tucking the key down his shirt. With another one of those sultry smile - that he really had to work on not giving to every person he ever met - he ambled back over to his charge. "Firstly, unlike my brother, I don't make empty threats, so if I say shut up or you'll be bound and gagged again, you should shut up or I will bind and gag you again. And don't think I am afraid to use this slingshot, though a gun would be a far more effective weapon. Fortunately for you, my brother doesn't like guns and so there won't be any around here. Secondly, I am not here for the fun of it. I'm here because, as I said, I made a promise to my mother. So what we are going to do is this - you are going to try not to annoy me too much, and we will humour each other. Got a question? Don't be afraid to ask. If I don't feel like telling you I won't, trust me. If I have a question, I'll ask, and if you don't feel like telling me you don't have to either. Not too hard, right? Thirdly, don't even bother trying to get this key off me. I'm a light sleeper, and I won't go down without a fight. So, eye candy, keep your eyes off. Don't try to escape - I wake to anything, trust me, which is why I often look like the walking dead, living with my brother as I do. If I think of any more rules, I'll tell you, but for now, let's leave it at that. How's that for you, eye candy?" he asked, moving closer with each rule until his face was directly in front of the other male's. With a smirk, he dropped a kiss to his forehead, the sauntered back to the sofa, settling himself down into the worn leather and watching James with bright, curious eyes. On second thoughts, Darius was actually starting to throughly enjoy this. Maybe his brother deserved more credit than Darius gave him. Now he had a new friend, and there was plenty of fun to be had with him. With an amused smile, Darius leant back, never taking his eyes of James, letting them linger on his face and just below his waist longer than they lingered anywhere else. This wasn't as bad as he'd originally thought. Nowhere near as bad.

[Bifflestick]

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

it must be death
because it's stolen my life

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

When she spoke to him, this vampire girl, Dorian snarled at her, partly forgetting his mortification. How dare she talk to him like that? Eugh. Stupid, stinking bloodsucker. Maybe he'd meant to phase! Maybe that's what he'd wanted! Okay, even Dorian had to admit that this - standing naked in a field in front of a vampire - was the last thing he'd ever wanted. It made him feel exposed and vulnerable and he really, really did not like it. If only he'd stopped to think before phasing. But he'd wanted - needed - to talk to her, to find out why. Why was she wearing Ella's ring?! Did she have any idea?! How many times he'd pressed a kiss to that ring, how many times his eyes had then flicked to hers, the look in them clearly screaming "mine"? How many times he'd told her he loved her? Did this vampire had any idea how much he'd loved her? How much it hurt, seeing her ring on this vampire's perfect, stone cold hand? Of course she didn't. Because if there was one thing that Dorian had become sure of since he'd become a werewolf, it was that vampires had no feelings. They were cold blooded murderers. The so called veggie vamps, the ones who fed on animal blood, were only slightly better. They didn't murder humans, but they were still cold. Rocks. Dead. Emotionless. They weren't human anymore. Technically Dorian wasn't either, but he was alive. His heart still beat, he could still cry, he could still feel. Especially hurt. Hurt was the worst emotion. Worse than pain, worse than grief - you could overcome those. But Dorian felt hurt. He'd betrayed Ella that night by not driving her home. And then the vampires had taken her. That hurt more than anything else. It hurt deep, right down to the very core of who and what Dorian was. And it was that very hurt that it was so hard to get rid of.

She spoke again, and Dorian listened. The words hit him like a knife to the heart, and a harsh snarl ripped past his teeth. How did she know his name? How did she know Ella's name? He gave her a disgusted look. "It wasn't her fault. It was mine. I let her go alone when I shouldn't have. I was stupid. I lost her. I lost her! And you...you..." Dorian trailed off, unable to finish. Why was it still so raw? Why did it still hurt so much? It had been three years. But...it was Ella. Beautiful, caring Ella, with her soft voice and even softer touch. A shiver ran through him as he closed his eyes, remembering Ella's fingers trailing across his skin, leaving fire where they touched. And now this leech was wearing her ring. Dorian's eyes snapped open again. They were blazing, anger burning away everything else. His hands started to tremble, but he managed to hold it together - just. It took every ounce of his carefully built up self control, but he managed it. He was not as ruled by his temper as a normal werewolf, but he still found it hard not to just phase when he got that angry. "You killed her. You murdered her!" he yelled, completely beyond reasoning. In the back of his head, he knew he was wrong. This vampire, this so called veggie vamp, wouldn't have killed her. But it felt good to blame someone other than himself. Really, really good. For too long - three years too long - Dorian had been blaming himself for what happened to Ella. A part of him knew it wasn't his fault - not entirely his fault, anyway - but he had still blamed himself. Pushing that blame onto someone else, even someone entirely blameless like this veggie vamp, felt good.

Her mannerisms were reminding him of Ella, bringing everything back to the surface. There wasn't a day that went by - hell, there was barely a moment that went by - when Dorian wasn't thinking about Ella, but this was different. Looking at this vampire that had Ella's hair and her ring and her mannerisms...that was more painful than anything. It brought back all the happiest memories, the good times, the best times. Dorian stared at her, expressive blue eyes wide. Usually so kind hearted, Dorian had been rather nasty to her. Despite his anger, he did start to feel sorry for that. He felt bad. For being mean to a vampire. He was going mad. He'd lost it. The last of his rapidly dwindling sanity had finally escaped him. Flown off to wherever it was sanity went to when you'd finally lost it. Werewolves didn't feel bad about being rude to vampires! Even vampires that reminded them of the girl they'd imprinted on. Even veggie vamps. It went against everything in Dorian's nature, feeling bad for it. But he couldn't help it. Truly, Dorian was just too nice to not feel bad for being so rude to her. But...Ella. She reminded him so much of Ella.

Tears welled up, causing his golden lashes to stick together. Ella. Sweet Ella. "You...you seem to know about it. T...tell me what happened to her. Why did you kill her? She was innocent. I loved her. I still love her," he whispered, knowing she would hear him. Tears rolled slowly down his cheeks, but he made no move to wipe them away. He hadn't cried in a long time, now. Not since Ella's funeral. He'd refused to let himself. Crying felt...good. Cleansing. Dorian felt more vulnerable than ever, naked and crying in front of this vampire, but it still felt...good. Strange, but good. Insanity was better than Dorian had ever thought it would be. A little emotional, sure, but much better than he'd expected. Mind, the rest of the pack already thought he was insane, and since they had such an intimate view into his head, maybe they were right. Who knew? A choking sob fell through Dorian's teeth and he fell to his knees, leaning forward to burying his damp cheeks in his hands. His entire frame shuddered as the heartbreaking sobs continued. The last time he'd cried like this was when he'd given up looking for her. It all seemed so long ago now. Much longer than he remembered. The tears at her funeral had been so much quieter. Silent tears. She wouldn't have wanted him to cry like this - she wouldn't want it now, either. But seeing this vampire with her ring had finally cracked Dorian's superior control, and the sobs and the tears just wouldn't stop coming.

He raised his head, looking sadly at the vampire. His eyes were suddenly so much older than his face. His face was nineteen, and his eyes were eternities older, the pain in them was so great. He was quiet again, though the tears kept waterfalling slowly down his cheeks. Looking in his eyes was like looking desolation in the face. There was a reason Dorian was so emotionally strong, and that was because he had caught sight of his relfection shortly after getting back from chasing Ella's scent. He'd seen that look on his face and known no one else could ever be allowed to see it, because it could quite possibly tear them apart. Especially his family - if they had known how much he was suffering, who knew what they'd do. "Why? Can you just tell me that. Why? Why did you kill her? Why do you have her ring? Why did you take her? There was no body at the funeral, you know. Just an empty coffin. You didn't see her parents. They were devastated. I was devasted. There was no body! Why?" he asked, his voice rough and raw with emotion. The questions he'd held back for so long were finally being asked, and he'd finally have some answers.

[Bifflestick]

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

lets get lost
i know the way
i've been there before

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

Darius gave James a smirky, lopsided grin when he wiped the spot on his forehead where he'd kissed him. He simply was just too cute. Darius tilted his head when James asked him what he'd have to do to be let go, then he chuckled. "To be perfectly honest with you, eye candy, you really don't want to know what you'd have to do to get yourself freed. I don't think you'd like it much," he grinned. Jamie moved forward and straddled his lap, and Darius looked up at him and raised his eyebrows questioningly. Well now, this was an unexpected turn. He'd never expected his charge to flirt back - not that he was complaining. Far from it, actually - Jamie's weight on his lap felt quite nice. Darius treated Jamie to another of those slow, sexy, trademark smiles of his, and was just thinking up a flirty response when there was a pounding at the door. The police. Clearly, they had traced Jamie's call, and since this was an area known for drug dealing, they has responded. The sultry smile vanished off his face, and he turned his suddenly flaming eyes to his charge. He stood and roughly shoved Jamie into the wardrobe. "Keep quiet, or else," he hissed, shutting the door. He quickly swept the remains of the mobile under the sofa, and cleaned up any evidence that he was not alone, thinking up a story as he did so. Once happy that they wouldn't know he wasn't there alone unless Jamie had a death wish and gave himself away, Darius went over to the door. He arranged his expression to a politely inquisitive and confused one, then unlocked the door and opened it.

"Hello there, officers. May I be of assistance?" Darius asked, making sure to pour more of his Irish accent into his words than normal. He has discovered long ago that the accent often won people over. He also carefully kept his expression curious and bemused and he let the police in, though they stopped just inside the door, casting their gazes around, lingering on the sofa and the book Darius had left open there as a last minute prop. Might as well make his story believable. "We received a call that we traced to this warehouse some time ago. The caller hung up, and we wanted to see what was going off. Make sure nothing was wrong," said Bobbyman Number One, the taller of the two. Blonde, blue eyed. Tall, lean, muscular. Good looking, but probably straight - most policemen were, much to Darius' disappointment. Darius gave them another bemused smile, glad that years of looking after his brother had made him into a good actor. "I come here alone. I don't bring a phone. I am training to be a doctor, you see, and it's very stressful, as you can imagine. Sometimes I just like to get away. I bring a good book, let my friends and family know where I am going and just escape here. It's nice to be alone sometimes, with just the characters in a book for company. I am sure you understand, what with having such stressful jobs yourself. Maybe the phone call came from the roof?" Darius said. The two policemen nodded, looking around and seeing nothing odd. Darius had made sure of that. It had been quick but he'd made sure - he was good at doing that now, too. His brother got him in all sorts of less than desirable situations. "Okay. Sorry to disturb you, sir. Keep safe," the other policeman said. Shorter, red headed. Freckly. Clearly new on the beat, since he had been brought here. Darius gave them another smile and assured them he would, then saw them out and locked the door behind him.

Looking murderous, Darius strode back over to the wardrobe and flung the doors open, glowering openly at the young man in there. "Bad eye candy. See what you did? I had to lie to the police. Now, how d'you suppose you will make it up to me?" Darius asked, allowing himself to be pushed aside and smirking at Jamie's answer. He outright laughed when he was called a mean a*****e. It certainly wasn't the first time that had happened, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. "That's what you think. But okay, eye candy, we can leave it. I'll get my pay back when you least expect it," he quiped, deciding not to reply to the comment about him being an a*****e. Jamie simply rolled his eyes and sat down, and suddenly Darius realised it was stupid to wait here. Really, really stupid. The police could come back at any moment. It wasn't safe. Darius started muttering things to himself out loud, the way he always did when agitated, and went over to Jamie, yanking him to his feet by his elbow. "We are going to mine. No questions," he instructed, pulling Jamie along roughly. He shoved him into his flat and locked up again, before grabbing his hand and taking him on a grand tour of his flat, showing him every room for at least five minutes. Darius wasn't sure why he was doing it, exactly, he just felt that he should. At least Jamie would know his way around, and could find the bathroom without having to ask him. That was something Darius hated. They finally arrived at the most important room of the house, where Darius slept. Jamie seemed unimpressed, and Darius just raised his eyebrows. "This is my bedroom. If you are cold at night, you could join me and we could share body heat," Darius smirked. Jamie just told him he didn't think so and Darius chuckled, letting him go and settle into the sofa, deciding not to tell just him what, exactly, his brother and his "fiends" got up to on there on a regular basis. Darius was about to settle himself down at the piano - his preferred place to sit - when there was a knock at the door. Fantastic. He went to open it to see a dark haired, leering idiot standing there. Charles. Of course.

Before Darius had a chance to say anything, Charles had pushed him aside and had strode over to Jamie and was getting in his face. Jamie shoved him harshly away - which Darius had to admit made him smile - and then was hiding. Charles rounded on Darius. "What are you keepin' him here for? Let me have him," Charles said. Darius glowered at his brother's friend. He had always hated Charles, and right now he hated him more than ever. "No, Charles. You can't have him. I am looking after him for my brother, not for you. I will not release him to you. Get out of my flat," Darius said, his voice cold and very, very angry, though it was level. It took every ounce of his self control not to beat Charles into a bloody pulp. He'd always wanted to do it, and now that the b*****d was in his flat without permission and was scaring his guest, Darius felt that he had more right to than ever before. But the blood would stain the carpet, and that would be awful to get out, so Darius held back. "Let me have him, Darius!! What, d'you fancy the little runt or something?" Charles asked. Darius lost it at that point, and his fist suddenly made contact with Charles' nose. Cartilidge made a very satisfying crunch beneath his knuckles, and blood dripped on the carpet as Charles ran, yelling over his shoulder that he'd be back. Darius shook his hand and wiped the few drops of blood off. Idiot. He wouldn't be back, not before James got out at least. Darius started looking for Jamie, wanting to make sure he was okay. And still actually here. "Jamie, come on out, please. The bad, bad man is gone, I sent him away. It's safe to come out, I promise," he called. Jamie suddenly lunged forward. He was smaller but stronger than Darius, and he soon found himself sprawled on the floor. Darius scrambled quickly to his feet and followed Jamie, proving to be faster than him as his arms locked around his waist and bought him down this time.

Jamie's thigh rammed against the wall, and Darius could see he was in pain. Darius gently prodded it, wanted to see if it was broken. He doubted it, but it was always best to make sure. Jamie pushed his hand away, informing Darius that he didn't need his help. Darius got to his feet and watched Jamie as he stumbled, automatically grabbing him around the waist and holding him up. "I think you do," Darius said. He lifted his legs out from under him and carried him, bride over the threshold style, to his bedroom, gently laying him down on the bed. He was being careful, not wanting to hurt Jamie's leg anymore. "No running away, eye candy," Darius purred. He watched absently as Jamie bent his knee, trying to see what the damage was. Darius was horrified, and slapped his hands away. "Don't move it, or touch it," Darius murmured. He was going into Doctor Mode, and he hurried from the room. He rushed around, gathering the things he needed. Water, painkillers, ice, a heat pad. He went back into the bedroom, sitting gently down next to Jamie. The other boy looked at him blearily, and Darius smiled encouragingly at him, in full Doctor Mode now. "Take your trousers off, and let me get a good look at you," Darius said. Okay, so a smirk slipped out at that one - he couldn't help it. He hid it away and watched Jamie blush. But damn, he was cute when he blushed. Darius never blushed - it wasn't how he was wired up. Darius looked at the bruise that was already on Jamie's thigh, knowing it would only get worse. Much, much worse. He sighed and handed him the painkillers and water. "Leave the rest to me. I'm a doctor. Well, in training," Darius said. He smiled at Jamie when he said that didn't sound promising, and he placed the ice pack on the brusie, ignoring Jamie's shiver. Ice always did that.

"Alternate between the ice and heating pad once an hour," Darius told him, leaning over to hand him the heating pad and suddenly finding his face very close to Jamie's. Darius couldn't help noticing how very cute Jamie looked. He looked embarrassed and awkward, not keen on wearing no trousers in front of him. "Alternate between the ice and heating pad once an hour," he said as he handed Jamie the heating pad and looked down at his lap, as he continued, "And...when...uh...the heat patch...is...uhm...not...hot...uh...ask...for....uhhh...a new one," Darius stammered. What was happening? He never stammered. Jamie looked at him briefly then looked down again, and Darius found his hand reaching out and lifting his chin, then he leant foward and pressed their lips together. He moved so he was on top of Jamie, breaking away for a moment. "Kissing is good for pain. Better than pain killers," Darius said, before kissing Jamie again. The kiss deepened and Jamie's tongue found its way into the space behind Darius' teeth. The kiss was broken only for a moment and Darius removed Jamie's shirt, his hands running across his chest and down towards the waistband of his boxers. Soon Darius was shirtless too, and his hand slipped gently under the waistband of Jamie's underwear, their tongues dancing and fighting for dominance. Jamie broke the kiss to inform Darius that his hand was cold, and suddenly Darius realised what he was doing. And that it was very, very stupid. He removed his hand, stood, grabbed his shirt and left, shutting the door behind him. He pulled his shirt on and went to the kitchen, leaning against the side and staring at the floor. What?! What?! He knew he was attracted to Jamie, but what had posessed him to do that?! He sighed and sat at the dining table, resting his head on the cool, smooth wooden surface. Something was very wrong, and Darius decided the best thing to do now was stay away from Jamie except to give him food, water and whatever medical attention he may need.

[Bifflestick]

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

she's the kinda girl
that doesn't say much
but when she does
it means a lot

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

Text goes herr.

[Bifflestick]

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

she's the kinda girl
that doesn't say much
but when she does
it means a lot

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

Mint green walls made the room look lighter and larger than it was. A wardrobe and chest of drawers were pressed against one wall, a writing desk inbetween them. On one corner of the writing desk there was a beautiful pink hibiscus, a single flower open wide and pointing towards the bed, watching. On the bed sat the owner of the room, an eighteen year old girl. Her red hair clashed with the walls, her eyes nearly the same colour as her hair. She was sat crossed legged, surrounded by books and paper. Most of the paper was covered in her own soft, spidery scrawl. The books were all on languages with a different alphabet to English - Greek, Arabic, Chinese, Japanese. There was also a very old looking book on her lap. The pages were all varying degrees of yellow. She was turning the pages very carefully, as if scared that they would turn to dust if she wasn't that careful. The runes on the pages were in a language that she had yet to figure out. It seemed related to Greek and Arabic, and in some places even Chinese, but she had no idea where it actually came from. She'd written out some of the letters, comparing them to the other languages but getting nowhere. She pushed from hair from her eyes. Most of it was tied back in a high, messy ponytail, just to keep it out the way. She was wearing her favourite black silk PJs. A frown was creasing her pretty, even features as she stared at the book, trying to figure it out. She wore no make up, but she never did so that wasn't unusual. A sigh fell through her lips, causing the hair that escaped from her ponytail to flutter gently. This was getting really annoying. Everyone else had simple items - why was it her that had the awkward one? Then again, she had picked it up first. Maybe Amilynn would have more luck with it, but then she'd be so impossible if she actually figured it out. At least she would keep quiet, happy just to know that she had done it. She wouldn't go showing off about it - that wasn't her style. But she did wish she could figure it out, though she'd never ask for help. Well, not from her friends.

"Fwyni, is it really that important? I mean, it's just some old book. Does it really matter?" a voice asked. Addfwyn Saeth Jones, better known to most and Fwyni, looked up towards the laptop that was perched on the bedside table. On the screen there was a guy that facially looked a lot like her, though his hair and eyes were both brown. Her older brother, Gethin. They were very close, and he was trying to help her figure out what the book was trying to tell her. He was the only person Addfwyn would ever go to for help with something like this. "In the grand scheme of things, Geth, no, it isn't that important. But it is important to me. What if the book is trying to tell me what is in the egg?" she asked him. Her voice had a distinct Welsh lilt to it, picked up from her parents and other family members. The egg she spoke of sat next to her, and she gently lifted it and held it towards the web came sat on top of her laptop so Gethin could see it. It was tawny in colour, with darker flecks all over it. Addfwyn had yet to figure out just what, exactly, the egg held inside. She was thinking that maybe the book would be able to let her know what was going to hatch from it. A few of the books were about bird eggs, and reptile eggs. Most of them had been discarded when Addfwyn hadn't been able to find the egg in any of them. Gethin sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He was in his second year at Yale now, studying mathematics. Logical and precise, Gethin was the best person Addfwyn knew to help her with this. "Okay, Fwyni. But I don't understand it, either. I've never seen a language like it, and it looks nothing like anything else I've ever seen, either. I don't think that I'll be much help. Why don't you ask that friend of yours? The smart one. The really annoying one. Y'know? The one with the ego so big it should have it's own postcode. Her name escapes me," Gethin said. Fwyni giggled at his description of Amilynn. He was spot on, as usual. Gethin knew people, too.

"Her name is Amilynn, Gethin. And I don't want to ask her. I want to ask you. I want your help, not hers. She'll try to take over and then if she does figure it out I will never hear the end of it. Please, Geth. Just try. You've only been here an hour!" Addfwyn pleaded. They often had long video phone conversations, since they didn't get to see each other much anymore. Addfwyn, too, wanted to go to Yale, but to study literature, since she loved reading so much. Gethin looked at his younger sister, her messy hair style, her large, pleading eyes. She looked helpless and lost, and he knew it was his job to help her out. He was the big brother - it was what he did. He was glad she was coming to Yale where he could keep an eye on her - she was so quiet and shy she'd be terrified, which was why she'd decided to go somewhere she at least knew one person, even if he was older than she was. "Fwyni. I love you, but I don't think I can be much help here. I want to help you out, really I do, but I'm doing maths, not linguistics. I mean, I have a friend in linguistics if you want to ask her?" he suggested, grasping at strings to try and help Addfwyn out. The knowing smile on her face made him blush lightly, and he knew she'd figured out who his "friend" in linguistics was. Lily, his girlfriend. Addfwyn had met her over a video phone conversation a little while ago, when she had walked in without realising that was what was going on. She was pretty and nice and seemed genuinly keen on Geth, and Addfwyn liked her. Gethin was going to bring Lily to meet the rest of the family soon, and Addfwyn was looking forward to meeting Lily in person. "Maybe. Ask Lily if she'd be willing first, don't just drop her in it. I really want to figure it out, and find out what is in this egg," Addfwyn said, trailing her fingers over the shell and looking at the egg longingly. Gethin sighed and ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up all madly. Addfwyn giggled, and he gave her an odd look. She just shook her head and smiled at him, not wanting him to sort it out - he looked funny like that. He just shook his head at her - whatever it was that was making her laugh, he clearly wasn't allowed to be let in on it.

"I will ask Lily later, when I see her. I'm sure she will be more than happy to help - she likes you. Thinks you are cute. I think adorable was the word she used, actually," Gethin said, and Addfwyn felt some blood rush to her cheeks, colouring her face a light pink colour. Her emotions always showed to clearly on her face, and embarrassment was the worst one. Blushing was awful, and always had people asking questions that Addfwyn didn't want to answer. "But...Geth...what is the egg is something bad? What if it kills me? What if it's something really rare and never seen before?" Addfwyn asked, eyes becoming wide again. Gethin just laughed. He often said that Addfwyn had the most defined sense of the irrational out of anyone he'd ever met, and he was right. How her mind made these links was a total mystery to him. Sensible and quiet, but so irrational it was unreal. Addfwyn saw the practical reasons why people shouldn't do stupid things, but also saw reasons that no one else would ever consider. She always had everything she could ever possibly need on her, from spare clothes to pepper spray. It was always better to be prepared, in her opinion, and so she always made a point to be prepared. "I don't think it is something bad, and I don't think it will kill you. It's too large to be anything poisonous, and it's an egg - whatever hatches from it will be a baby and therefore not dangerous. Okay? You'll be fine, Fwyni. Don't worry," Geth said, chuckling lightly. Addfwyn gave him a small smile in return, still clearly worrying. Her irrational side made her rather paranoid, too. It was a part of her that Gethin often disliked, but it was the same part that made him so protective of her - her weird ideas of what might happen causing him to worry it might happen too. "Anyway, isn't there a party or something happening tonight? You should go out, Fwyni. Have fun with your friends because you all scatter across the country. You shouldn't be sitting here surrounded by books and papers chatting away to your brother when you could be having fun," Gethin informed her.

Addfwyn gave her brother a very sarcastic look and he laughed. Addfwyn was so shy around everyone but him. With him, she was sarcastic and even witty at times. But that was because he was her brother - he made her be sarcastic. "I don't like parties, Geth. You know that. I can't stand large crowds," she said softly, pushing hair from her eyes. Naula was having a party. She was part of their group, which was already too large for Addfwyn's liking, and as such she was expected to put in an appearance. However, Addfwyn knew that no one would be surprised or disappointed if she didn't. The quietest, shyest member of the group, Addfwyn was mostly just along for the ride. It was Elea, her closest friend, who kept Addfwyn along. Why, the red head had yet to figute out. Elea had Halver, her best friend, but she still kept Addfwyn close. It wasn't as if Addfwyn was a great help to the group or anything. Sure, she cleaned up after one of their camping trips, and she'd play her guitar and sing around the campfire. But she cleaned up because she hated leaving the field in a mess, and she played and sang because her friends asked her to and she was incapable of saying no. It actually terrified her whenever they asked her to sing - she was too shy for those things. But they were her friends, and it made them happy, and Addfwyn would do anything to make them happy. "I'm sure Elea will be here soon to force you to go, anyway. Then I'll be happy that you are at least having a life," Gethin said. Addfwyn looked back at him, knowing her was right. When Elea got going, there was no stopping her. And Addfwyn was too meek to say no. She would end up going to this party if Elea decided that she was, which knowing her she would. Addfwyn sighed. "You are right, of course. I don't give her long before she is here," her voice betrayed her disappointment.

Gethin laughed again. He was very different o his sister. Confident, outspoken. And he loved parties. "Good. Go have fun, Fwyni. Really. Go dance and go wild. Okay, okay, I know you won't, but it makes me better to think that maybe, just maybe, you are doing," Gethin told her, and Addfwyn gave him a warm smile. It was impossible for her to stay mad at Gethin for long. She hoped, though she knew it was futile, that Elea decided this was on party Addfwyn could afford to miss. She highly doubted it, but it made her feel better to think that if Elea did decide that, Addfwyn would be free to sit there late into the night with her notes and her egg, and talk to her brother. And there was very little right now that Addfwyn wanted more than that.

[Bifflestick]

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

oh, wait a minute
do i mean fun or do i mean carnage?
i get them confused

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

text goes herr

[Bifflestick]

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

oh, wait a minute
do i mean fun or do i mean carnage?
i get them confused

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

The room was long and dimly lit by a candles. There were lightbulbs, but the candles made it more atmospheric. Some found that annoying, but their leader didn't care - he liked the candles, and he got his way. He was powerful and short tempered - of course he got his way. You simply did not mess with him. Not unless you wanted to come out unscathed. Only one person ever dared mess with him, and she got away with it because her own powers allowed it and because he wanted to keep her close. Losing her would be a bad idea - she was very, very useful. Annoying as hell, of course, but useful nonetheless. The only problem one, she had long since figured that out, and that made her even more annoying. The eighteen year old ran his hand through his midnight hair, his chocolate coloured eyes bored. He was alone at the moment, waiting for someone. Their secret headquaters. Even the teachers weren't aware of it. He'd started it way back just a few days after he'd had started at Fluter's Academy for Gifted Youngsters. He was in the library, looking for something, when he'd got bored and distracted and decided to see what was in the back corner of the place. He'd ambled over and found a rather old, uninteresting looking book, and for reasons he still didn't know he'd pulled it out. The bookcase had slid back revealing this very room. What it had been used for before escaped him, but now it was the base of the Dark Knights. They were the elite, the most powerful people around. He was leader, partly because he'd discovered it but mostly because no one dared challenge him. Well, except maybe one person, but so far she'd been content not to. Just to drive him to the edge of insanity.

Clarke Johnson was strong. He knew it, everyone else knew it. The teachers knew it. Everyone was in awe of him, and it had certainly gone to his head - he was about as arrogant as it is possible for someone to be. Fluter's wasn't just a normal school, nor was it a school for the amazingly intelligent. It was, in fact, a school for those with superpowers. And Clarke had some pretty spectacular superpowers. He had control of electricity and water. He could create it, absorb it, manipulate it. He'd even recently learnt how to create both together, which was a pretty much deadly combination. Another reason he preferred to have candles in here was because when he got angry - which was often, since he was very short tempered - the lights tended to blow. He'd never admit that to anyone, but it was true. And replacing light bulbs would just be annoying. So he had candles everywhere, since they didn't have a fire controller. Yet. Because if he had heard right, there was a new kid appearing who certainly did have control of fire, and Clarke was rather interested in that. He only ever let people in who had powers that interested him. Everyone else had no idea that the Dark Knights existed. They met in secret and practised their powers. Only the most powerful, the ones with the most interesting powers were even considered. Clarke sent people - usually the annoying ones - out to check them out. That's who he was waiting for now. An annoying person, that is, but the most useful person in his army.

Her name was Remington MacDonald. She knew exactly where all of Clarke's buttons were, and what's more she liked to press every single one of them every chance she got. However, much as she annoyed Clarke, she was amazingly powerful and useful. For a start, she could manipulate probabilty. She was the reason no one outside of the Dark Knights knew about it. She made it so ridiculously improbable that anyone would ever find the book that it was near impossible. No one had found it yet, either, so it was clearly working. Her second power was unlocking. She could unlock anything with just her mind, from locks to computers that had passwords on. Everything and anything, and Clarke liked that one. It meant he could find anything he wanted about anyone in the school. Admitedly, that meant he had to spend time with the infruiating Remington, but it was worth it. She could also get him into any room in the entire school he fancied going into. Annoying, yes, but extraordinarily useful, and so he kept her close despite how damn annoying he found her. She enjoyed winding him up, which was the worst part. Clarke knew that if he didn't react quite so badly she'd get bored, but he always did react. Because she knew how to annoy him better than anyone else. A scowl crossed his features. She was sure to be annoying today, too. She always way.

The far wall moved back and she walzed in, grinning madly at him. "Well hell there, Clarkey boy! How are you today?" she trilled in her lightly Scottish accented voice, dancing her way down the room. Clarke had to admit that she was very attractive, but he'd never make a move on her. She wasn't his type, for a start, being far too annoying and rebellious for his taste. She was the only person who ever got away with disobeying him, purely because of what she could do. She knew it, and that made her do it all the more. "My name is Clarke, Remington, not Clarkey boy. And I'm fine. I have a mission for you," he informed her, and Remington became a little more serious. She liked missions. Missions, to her, were fun. They were the best part of this whole business. When she'd first been recruited, not long after Clarke had discovered this room and decided it's use, she'd been flattered and a little bemused, but she's soon fallen into the role of Clarke's sometimes second in command. Sometimes because she often decided she didn't want that role and disappeared for a while, not coming to meetings or anything. Then she'd reappear again and just take over her role again as if she'd never have left. Clarke didn't like unpredictable people, which was just another in the ever growing list of reasons he didn't like Remington. "There is a new guy. Derek. Pryo and aerokinesis. Also, that girl Zusa McFlee...she's showing signs of a new power. Check her out, and chat to this Derek person. I want him recruited, and fast," Clarke told her.

Remington smiled a smile that to anyone else would have been charming. And it did made her look beautiful, he had to admit, but he just glowered in response, which made Remington giggle. "Whatever you say, Clarkey boy. I'll go flirt with him, see what he's like, and report back to you later. I'm sure with me on the case it won't take long to get him interested," Remington purred, before dancing over and kissing him on the cheek, then leaving, intent on her mission. Clarke glared after her, wiping the place on his cheek where she'd kissed. Eugh. He did so dislike her. But she had her uses, her powers being one, and her ability to flirt with any guy and get him interested being another. He didn't know what it was about her. It didn't seem to work on Clarke. He imagined that if she didn't enjoy annoying him so much, it would do. She'd been charming to him and he'd fall for it hook, line and sinker. But she didn't try too hard for him - she just wound him up. Which she was unsually good at. It was almost like having a sister, really, except more annoying and Clarke didn't feel the need to protect her. He shoved the girl from his mind and focused on the fact that soon enough he'd have a fire controller in his ranks. The thought made him smile.

[Bifflestick]

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

with a dashing hero like me
on the case, how can we fail?

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

text herr.

[Bifflestick]

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

oh, wait a minute
do i mean fun or do i mean carnage?
i get them confused

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

Well, wasn't this just dandy. A small scowl passed across his face at the thought. No, it wasn't. It was very, very far from dandy. So far from dandy, in fact, that it boarded on the downright depressing. What was even the point? Was this meant to teach them something? Because if it was, he has serious doubts about it. His teachers had finally lost it. He'd been wondering about their mental health, or lack thereof, for years. And now it looked as though the last of it had finally fled, hiding away in the darkness recesses of their head so that they came up with crazy, stupid ideas like this one. He ran a hand through his midnight hair, his chocolate coloured eyes for once not warm, and without the crinkle lines at the edges. The reason that there were no crinkle lines was simple - right now, he wasn't smiling, and the crinkle lines only appeared when he smiled. He was currently annoyed, and the small scowls he keep flashing at his teacher clearly confirmed that fact. To him, this was stupid and pointless. What did this show them about his intelligence? How was writing to some random guy out in the country tell them anything about him? This was why he didn't like this class. Maths, science - things with definate answers - those he liked. But English? There was no incorrect answer in English, and he hated that. He liked things to be simple, to have an answer he could work towards. Logical. He liked to work things out, and get an answer he could check against things. With English, that was impossible. And he hated that. Sighing heavily, a lifted his pen and started to write before the teacher came and told him to start again.

Dear Ethan,
xoxoxoxoxoSo. This is our project. We get to write to each other. Isn't that just awesome? Please note that question was endlessly sarcastic and I really don't give a crap about this lesson, because English is pointless. There are no correct answers, after all, so I can't be wrong. Therefore, I can say whatever the damn hell I want and no one can tell me I am wrong. Unfortunately, I hate that. How can I improve if I never make mistakes? These are the reasons I hate English, and therefore this project.
xoxoHowever, since I am being forced into it, I shall go willingly enough. After all, what else am I meant to do? I could just doodle on the page, I suppose, and slip it into the envelope. They are giving us freedom, you see, and not reading our letters before we send them out. Amazing, I know. They aren't checking to make sure we are using appropriate language or anything. I could say anything. I could send to an innuendo riddled, swear word filled piece of bollocks and they genuinly wouldn't know any difference. This is the first time they have ever given us this freedom, and as I sit here and look around I can see the girl's writing their life stories and the guy's just not giving a damn, much like myself. Guys are all the same, really, after all. And now I am going to tell you a little about yours truly, just for your enjoyment.
xoxoMy name is Clarke Johnson. They told me not to tell you my full name, but whatever. Johnson is fairly common, though I don't know about Clarke. Probably not as common - I don't think there are that many Clarke Johnsons in Kettering, Ohio. My life so far has been remarkably unremarkable. I was born in Wellington eighteen years ago. Wellington? Yeah, that's in New Zealand. I'm a Kiwi. Got the accent and everything. Great, ain't it? Just freakin' fantasmagorical, that's what it is. I have a younger sister called Amelia, and I'm very protective of her, 'cause she's my baby sis, and she's incredibly trusting and naïve and so often needs someone to step in and punch some git in the face before he takes advantage of her. We moved over here when I was ten and Amelia was seven, so about eight years ago now. Do I miss New Zealand? I guess. I miss blending in, not having an accent that turns heads and makes everyone suddenly pay attention, but it's not so bad here, I guess. My dad is a lawyer and my mother a journalist. I want to go on to do maths or science or some other subject that has very definate answers that I can work towards, and I can be wrong at. I like being wrong sometimes. I know what I'm not good at then, and I can work to get good at it.
xoxoI have never found a girl attractive in my life, and I don't intend to start any time soon. Yes, I find guys attractive - build a bridge and get over it. Don't start with the gay jokes or "don't start fancying me you fairy", because trust me I have heard every single one of them and then some. I don't care what you think about my sexuality, I just thought I should throw it in here since it is actually a pretty important part of who I am. I'll never have kids. Well, I could, technically, but since little kids are about as annoying as English class I highly doubt it. Maybe I'll adopt them at teenagers - I think I could just about handle that one.
xoxoI'm tall - six five - and have black hair and brown eyes. Yay for description. I just thought I should throw that in there, although I think we are meant to be supplying a photo with out next letter. Whatever, you've got a nice little visual description there. I'm a right blunt, sarcastic b*****d when I want to be, especially when I am in English class since I hate it so damn much. I like maths and mushrooms and aardvarks. I don't like English lessons, mornings or people calling me Clarkey boy. I get rather annoyed when people do, actually, and since I can be a right short tempered git I advise you not to call me Clarkey boy. I prefer classical music to anything that has lyrics, since lyrics annoy me and, like literature and poetry, can be taken so many ways that there is never a wrong way to interpret them. So I prefer to listen to music without lyrics, and classical music is relaxing. I guess I can be honest when I am bored senseless and doing something just to keep my teacher off my back, since I've sure been honest here. I guess that's it for now. You can ask my questions, if you like. I guess I should ask you some, but in all honesty I don't see the point. Just tell me some stuff about yourself and we'll both pass this ridiculous assignment.


Whatever the hell the correct thing is, sincerly or faithfully, I truly do not care,
Clarke.


He looked at his letter happily. Just the right amount of arrogance, sarcasm and utter boredom. Perfect. He folded it slowly and slid it into the envelope. He saw that the teacher was looking and made a great show of licking the envelope and sticking it down. He heard some guy nearby say that he was probably flirting with his penpal, so for good measure Clarke pressed a kiss to the back of the envelope. He scribbled the name and address of his penpal down in his spidery scrawl, then stood and lazily ambled to the desk. The teacher looked at him. "Done, Clarke?" she asked. He just nodded and she took the letter from him and added it to the pile. He wasn't the first to finish, but he was still early. He went back to his desk and fell into the chair, lifting his pen and doodling on a black page of his notepad. People gave him strange looks, but he was used to that. He'd been here ten years now, and yet still people thought he was a freak. Besides Amelia, he only had one true friend, Jason. Said friend caught his eye and winked. Clarke gave the blonde a smile in return, and Jason bent his fair head to start writing again. Jason was straight, but had no issue with the fact that Clarke wasn't, and they were close regardless. Jason was a bit of a prat, often getting drunk and stoned, but he was a lot of fun and was the only person who had given Clarke the time of day when he'd first arrived, confused and lost with a funny accent and his outspoken ways. Clarke said things as he saw them. He didn't beat around the bush, and his favourite saying was "call a spade a spade and not a manually operated earth moving device". He hated English lessons with a passsion because they did beat around the bush, and we symbolic and filled with all the illogical rubbish that Clarke hated so much.

Finally - finally - it was all over. Clarke shoved his things haphazardly into his bag, slung it over his shoulders and got the hell out of there. At least it was his last lesson and he could go home now. He waited outside for Jason, since it was Clarke's turn to drive, and then they were to their lockers, where they'd wait for Amelia before heading on to Clarke's red Jeep Wrangler. "So. That was fun, huh?" Jason asked, and a look at his friend's face told Clarke that he actually meant it. The great sap. Jason, unlike Clarke, loved English. He also loved kids and mornings and music with lyrics, so they were pretty different. "That was my own personal hell on Earth. I hated it, as you well know, because I hate every stupid English lesson we are ever forced to sit through. What the hell is writing to some hick out in the country going to tell them about out intelligence? Totally pointless, my friend," Clarke said, his Kiwi twang earning him looks from all sides. Jason just laughed, more than used to his friends outspoken nature and way of saying exactly what was on his mind. It got him into no end of trouble, but at least you knew where you stood. "Well, I think it'll be fun. You are just a spoilsport," Jason informed him, and Clarke just rolled his eyes. Eye rolling was his thing, and he was a pretty damn good eye roller, if he did say so himself - and he did. They arrived at their lockers and sorted there stuff out, and when Clarke shut his locker there was Amelia, standing and looking adorable as always. Dark haired and eyed like Clarke, except her eyes were often dancing with the excitement that was often missing from Clarke's. "Omg, isn't the project awesome?! I can't wait to get a letter back!! It's gonna be soooooooo cool!" Amelia giggled. Clarke groaned and knocked his forehead against his locker.

"Not you too, Ammy! God, everyone is so bloody excited. It's crap, don't you see?! Eugh, c'mon. Let's get you guys home," Clarke sighed dramatically and they all ambled to the car, Jason and Amelia talking happily about the project and Clarke just rolling his eyes and getting involved only when they asked him a direct question. He drove in silence, playing classical music though it annoyed both Jason and Amelia. He didn't care - it was his car, so he got to chose the music. Jason chose the music they listened to in his car, and Amelia complained that she never got to chose, to which both boys just laughed and said it was because she didn't drive, and then they allowed that they'd let her chose the music on her birthday, which made her happy. Clarke dropped Jason off first and then drove home, hopping down and waiting for Amelia to get out too. She smiled at him and went off inside, leaving Clarke to lock up the car and then follow her. He said the obligatory hell to his parents and answered the inevitable questions about his day, then went upstairs. He turned his laptop on immediately, only wanting one thing. To e-mail Elijah, which was the highlight of his day. He used a fake name, John Smith, though told Elijah to call him Johnny. His friends back in New Zealand had called him Johnny, since his last name was Johnson, so it wasn't that unusual. And John Smith was the most generic name ever, so it couldn't be traced easily. Unlike Elijah's, which was weird. But Clarke hadn't tried to trace him, mostly because he didn't see the point. He was a friend, and they chatted, but that was the extent of it.

to : elijah vebergen
from : john smith

Howdy, partner!
Blimey, I thought today would never end. I have a stupid new project in English where I have to write to some hick in the back end of nowhere. As if that tells my teacher anything about how intelligent I am!! It's completely pointless, but there is just not talking to them. Honestly.
Of course, my friend and sister are stupidly excited about it, because they are saps. I love them and all, but sometimes I worry about their sanity - or lack thereof. Amazing as they are, they are serious mental. It is not fun, it is stupid. But aprently, I am the only one to see this and so I am once again forced to be the voice of reason, the logic. Not that I mind. In fact, I like the role - it suits me well.
So, yes, I am being forced to write to some backward kid in God knows where for my English project. The joy is killing me. So how if you day going, my little Hobbit?

Guy love,
Clarke.

[Bifflestick]

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

oh, wait a minute
do i mean fun or do i mean carnage?
i get them confused

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

Clarke was doing his calculus homework happily. Maths made sense to him. He was good at it - he always had been. Maths and science. He could work out ridiculous equations in his head, and could name more numbers in pi than his teacher, and could also rattle off many of the square root of pi. He had a good head for numbers, and he liked them. They were logical, they always worked. There was no way that they could maybe mean something else - they were what they were, and you got to the answers using you brain and by working it out. He had been asked to be a tutor many times, and had tried it once. He'd quickly discovered that he didn't have the patience for it, however, and so had given up and dismissed the idea of ever becoming a teacher. You need patience and a level head, whereas Clarke had little patience and was short tempered as hell to boot. Teaching was not for him, which he had suspected beforehand but now knew. It was always good to know things. People often accused him of being stupid because he didn't do well in English, but he wasn't. He knew a lot more than people gave him credit for, he just didn't put much effort into his English classes because he really didn't see the point. It was English that was bringing his GPA down, but he never put anymore effort in. He hated it. He was about half way through his homework - which was not as challenging as he'd been hoping - when his laptop beeped, letting him know he had a new e-mail.

With a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling, he shoved his paperwork aside and went over to his laptop, which was sitting open on his desk. He always left it open and went to do his homework, waiting for Elijah to e-mail him back. There was nothing else he ever really did on his laptop, unless he needed it for homework or wanted to talk to Jason and his friend had once again forgotten to charge his mobile, which happened far too often. He nudged the mouse - he had a hatred for the mouse pad - and the screen came back on. He clicked onto the new e-mail and read through it, laughing to himself. Alone, Clarke was much more carefree than when he was around other people. He wasn't antisocial, he just generally preferred his own company to that of others, because other people tended to get on his nerves too much. Even Jason did, but Clarke liked Jason because when he wanted to be he was actually incredibly witty and made amazingly dry, cynical observations about the world around him that Clarke usually agreed with. Elijah, on the other had, often made Clarke smile and laugh, just through his e-mails. It was a different kind of friendship that they shared, very different to that he had with Jason. Different, but nice on its own level. After a few more moments of reflection, Clarke hit the reply button.

to : elijah vebergen
from : john smith
subject : why my day sucked

Well, maybe I was implying something. I am glad you enjoyed my little implication there. Actually, I wasn't implying anything - it was just a greeting. But, hey, if you saw an implication there, you go with it.
Yes, an English project. It is not exciting. I am not on the edge of my seat, just waiting for a reply from whatever his name was, unlike my sister who is about soiling herself with excitement. It's stupid and pointless and did I mention stupid? We read a lot, too. I don't mind reading, what I hate is the fact that teachers always say there is no wrong way to take what has been written. That is annoying, but whatever. I am forced to take English, so I do, but I am not forced to enjoy it, so I don't.
I could have told you that high school sucked. I've know that for years. It's crappy and stupid and boring and bitchy and pretty much everyone is fake and pathetic and doesn't have two brain cells to rub together. Or maybe that's just my school.
I hate corn.
Well, on its own. It's gross. And comes out whole from the other end, which is just disgusting. It really is. Also, potatoes are awesome. And don't come out whole. It'd be a b***h if they did, though. It'd hurt like hell.
Your brother sounds like fun. Well, actually, he doesn't. But I am sure he'd fit right in at my school, where every other person is a whore. He could have sex with half the school and no one would bat an eyelid, since many of them have done it already. Ain't life grand?
Awww. Ickle virginal Elijah. Don't worry, honey, 'cause no one dies a virgin - life screws us all.
And duh! Elijah Wood played Frodo, who was a hobbit. Blimey. I thought it was obvious!

Your amazingly witty friend,
Johnny.

With another eye crinkling grin, Clarke hit send and watched as the little envelope flew off on it's way to his friend. After a few moments, he ambled back over to his bed and his calculus homework. After that he had chemistry homework, then some free time. He'd probably relax and listen to music and see if Elijah would reply. He glanced at his CD collection, which was made up almost exclusively of classical music. There was a little jazz here and there, but it was mostly classical, his preferred style of music. It seemed a little odd that he'd listen to classical, but he hadn't been lying to his penpal when he has said that lyrics annoyed him - they did. And so he listened to music without lyrics. Beethoven, Mozart - he loved the greats, but also had many lesser known artists there too. He could also play piano, not that he would ever admit it to anyone. Only his family and Jason knew, and Jason only knew because he had once turned up when he'd been playing some Mozart and had surprised him. He was good at it, and could read music or play by ear. If you gave him a piece of music, he'd be able to play it. He just never told anyone that he could do. It was one thing about Clarke Johnson that didn't quite fit, and so he kept it to himself. It made it more special that way. It was his thing. With a faint smile, he turned his attention back to his calculus. It needed doing, after all.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Their penpals soon wrote back, much to Clarke's disappointment. He was half hoping that his penpal wouldn't write back, so he wouldn't have to carry on with this stupid project. No such luck, however, and so he tore into his letter and read it. Then read it again. Then smirked to himself, stifling laughter. Wow, this guy was...wow. He quickly picked his pen up and started on a reply, already planning what he was going to say. Maybe this would be more fun than he'd ever imagined.

Dear Ethan,
xoxoxoxoxoI know what a penpal is. I am not an idiot, despite what you might think. And I hate everything that we do in English, because it's crap. And I actually meant English lessons, not the language. What teaching me about some dead guy's books and plays is gonna do, I don't know. Not a lot, s'far as I can tell. Also, I can never be wrong with what I say about it. I hate it. I want to be wrong, damnit. I can't improve if I am never wrong! Ugh.
xoxoAnd I am fully aware of spelling and grammatical errors, and you are fully aware of what I was talking about. You are just being awkward for the sake of being awkward.
xoxoThis is more freedom that they've ever given us before. Here, they check everything. They even have bag checks in registration. Admitedly, it's because one time Billy bought in a knife. But no one else would ever be that stupid! Honestly. So yes, we have very little freedom. And I shall remember that you said you like inyourendos, and I shall try and throw a few in for your enjoyment. You may have to squint sometimes, as they may not always be obvious, but they will be there. Trust me.
xoxoI'm a Kiwi - half my family are farmers. Admitedly my parents aren't, but that is because they hated that life and got away as soon as they could. I've visited my family on their farms many times, and I quite enjoy it. Yes, I helped out. I'm not that lazy. So no, I won't make fun of you for living on a farm. Also, you should travel. Broaden your horizons and all that. As soon as I am able, I'm going travelling. Don't know where I'll end up - that's half the fun, y'know? I'll just go everywhere and anywhere, wherever the fancy takes me. Settle down wherever I like most. To me, that sounds fun. Trot the globe, guy in every port, that kind of thing. Perfect existence. Well, for me.
xoxoHuh. Well, that right there is interesting. My first kiss was with my best friend back in New Zealand, Adam. We were what...six? We wanted to try it, so we did. He hated it, I loved it, and the rest, as they say, is history. Well, actually, we were six - we both hated it. But whatever. I kissed a girl for the first time when I was fourteen and came to the conclusion that all girls are gross, crap kissers and unattractive. Which was maybe a little harsh, but at the time it made sense. Adam and I are still friends now, surprisingly, and he still isn't attracted to guys, mores the pity - he's some damn fine eye candy, let me tell you. On that note, I sent a picture of me. See? That's me. You can't tell how tall I am, though. But it's me. Don't ask about the angle - my sister is being all arty at the moment. I told her to take the damn thing straight.
xoxoFive five? Blimey. Hey, everyone seems short compared to me. Trust me, I'm not a fan - towering over everyone gets annoying fast, let me tell you. Everyone looks up to me, only that's in the literal and not metaphorical sense. I don't think anyone looks up to me metaphorically - I'm not exactly the best role model in the world. Too bad, how sad. Like I care. They can lecture me on being a role model as much as they like, but that won't make me a better one. Also, don't call me Clarkey boy or I will come up with a ridiculous nickname for you, and then you'll be sorry.
xoxoWhat happened to make me mean? That was very rude, you know. Well, I grew up with parents who were too busy to look after their two kids. If you are gonna have kids and then basically ignore them, why not get a hamster and ignore that? At least it won't complain. I had to pretty much raise my sister since my parents weren't around much. They hired out baby sitters and whatever to take care of us. I can cook, I can clean, I can change nappies - ew - and I can do all sorts of other, baby related things, which are probably the reason why I despise babies so much. My sister was a good baby, actually, but I still hate kids. I got bullied because I was gay, and then when I moved over here I got bullied because I was gay and I had a funny accent. I'm a freakin' Kiwi - what do you expect?! The funny accent bit, I mean. People were always cruel to me, and I guess it made me cynical. I say things as I see them, what can I say. Call me mean if you want - trust me, I've been called worse things in my life time.
xoxoHuh. Not many innuendos in there, are there? Too bad. I'll try harder for you next time.

Up yours, dipshit,
Clarke.

PS. Wait...wait...was that an innuendo right there? Well, maybe if you squint. You are welcome.

Clarke folded the letter and slipped into the envelope, sealing it. It was a good job they weren't reading the letters. They might take offence to him calling his penpal a dipshit. And saying up yours, though probably more to the name calling. He handed it to his teacher and went back to his desk to doodle away the rest of the lesson, before he went to wait for Amelia. It was Jason's turn to drive, and Jason was chatting merrily away about his penpal, James. "And James lives on an ostrich farm! How cool is that? He says the eggs are really tasty, though they take forever to cook. He says he'll have to send me one sometime, which would be awesome. Hey! Ammy! How's your penpal?" Jason asked as Amelia suddenly appeared. From the joyous look on her face, her penpal was great and not calling her annoying names and asking why she was so mean. Jason and his sister loved this kind of thing, though. Maybe if they'd been rude and sarcastic in their letters, their penpals would be so damn friendly. "She's great! I can't wait to meet her! They are setting up an exchange soon! Won't that be awesome?!" Amelia cried, jumping up and down. Clarke looked up so sharply from his inspection of the scuffed toes of his worn, black Converse All Star high tops that he neck cracked. Did he just hear that?! Amelia and Jason were talking excitedly, and Clarke just stared at them for a long time. "Exchange? Are you shitting me?" he groaned. No. Way. He'd be forced to go stay with the Amazing Hick?! No! The git would call him Clarkey boy! And then he'd have to bring him home?! Oh, it just got better.

"No, Clarke, I am not "shitting you". I think an exchange will be fun! I can't wait to go stay with Emily. She's so cool!" Amelia said. Clarke just groaned again, running a hand through his midnight hair, messing it up. No. Freaking. Way. What was wrong with his school?! Why were they so sadistic? Because that was the only reason Clarke could think for them setting up this exchange - they were sadists. They wanted to see their students suffer. "Guys, can we go home? I need to go mourn the time I'm gonna waste on this exchange," Clarke said, and his friend and sister started telling him off, but did as he wanted, chatted excitedly about the exchange while Clarke wore an expression of pure, unadulterated dread at the thought.

[Bifflestick]

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

wanna feel reckless
i wanna live it up
just because

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

text herr.

remmy is currently arriving just in time for band practice

[Bifflestick]

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

wanna feel reckless
i wanna live it up
just because

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

Ugh, mornings. They sucked. Always. Mornings were boring, and simply there to fill the time until the afternoon, which was always lovely and filled with music. Well, part of it was - and then she could go home and make more music, so the afternoons were far better than the mornings. It was lunch right now, and she had band practice, and so she was a whirlwind of russet hair and black and white clothing as she grabbed some food, scarfed it down and headed off to the music hall. Remington Daisy-Mae MacDonald - known more commonly as Rem or Remmy - preferred to spend her time in the music room - she refused to call it a hall because it wasn't one. She didn't, however, going to all her other classes like a good girl, even though she hated most of them. But her parents were always upset with her when they caught her cheating, and she hated making them upset, so she begrudgingly went along with it, attending all her classes. They knew of Rem's intense love of music, if they couldn't quite comprehend it. It was the kind of passion that only a fellow musician can understand, a deep and abiding love to music and everything that went with it. But her friends understood, and that was enough. Rem grinned at the thought. Her fellow musicians - she was their leader. Strange that it had happened, but it had. She'd been booted out of the foreigners because of her love for music, and she'd happily found her place amoung her fellow musicians, and she'd slowly made her way to leader. She slotted in quite nicely there, being the outgoing and outspoken type. With a grin, she adjusted her hat and continued on her hurried way to the music room.

People watched as she passed. Rem was known around school for being rather loud, in both pesonality and her ways. Her clothing, for instance. Today she was wearing white jeans, a black button down shirt, a white silk tie, white Doc Martens with black stars on and a black trilby with a white ribbon tied around it. Not that she cared what anyone thought, because she loved her outfit. Rem didn't care what anyone thought about her - as long as she liked who she was, it didn't matter. And she had her friends and family - she didn't need anyone else. Especially not the fake, bitchy girls who were at the top of the ladder in this place. That was the last thing she needed, actually. They'd fully get in the way of her music. Music was her life, the air she breathed, her everything. Without it there would be silence - Rem found music and melody in everything, from laughter to the sounds of the cafeteria. She was talented, too, and no one could deny it. They all were, all of the musicians. Talent was just one of the things they shared. If they weren't talented, they didn't get in - it was simple as that. Rem impatiently brushed some more hair from her eyes - a rather disconcertingly bright green - and bounced a little as she neared her favourite room at the school.

She flung the door open and flashed a brilliant smile at Mrs. Hellen, Beau, Melody and Brayli. "Hello! How are you today?" she trilled in her Scottish accent, dancing her way to a seat. She noticed that Melody had a stain on her shirt and a frown creased her features. "Melody...what happened?" she asked softly, indicating with a tilt of her head the stain on her shirt. Melody was the clumsy type. Rem wasn't all that clumsy, really. She seemed to have inherited her mother's grace, though elegance came fairly easy to her - she didn't have that much to coordinate, since she was only five two. Rem had an odd feeling that if she was taller, she'd have a harder time of it. She dropped her bag to her feet and sat back, looking around the room. She loved band practice, lived for it. It got her through the day, just having that bit of music thrown in there. She had a piano solo in the upcoming performance. Mrs. Hellen had asked her, and of course Rem had been unable to refuse - she adored playing piano. She was also hoping that there'd be a possibilty for singing. For such a tiny little thing, Rem had a belter of a voice, and she liked to use it.

She watched as Beau moved next to Melody, and after a moment Rem rose from her seat and went over to the piano, taking the seat and starting to play a soft melody. She could quite happily do that for hours, losing herself in the keys and the music and everything it gave her. After a few moments she stopped and turned her gaze to the others, giving them a slightly sheepish little smile. They understood, of course. She watched Beau, a small smirk on her face. Most people were scared of him, but he was totally harmless. Then again, Rem was renowned for being pretty much fearless, and Beau was unlikely to scare her anyway. He might look a little creepy, and he certainly acted creepy, but that didn't matter. He was a fellow musical genius, and as such Rem accepted him as he was. Melody had a ukelele, and it was that which Beau seemed interested in. Rem had to admit she was rather interested herself, but she stayed back, happy to sit by the piano. She adored the piano - it was the very first intsrument she had learnt to play. Her mother had taught her, and they had brought their grand piano over from Scotland. It had been a long way, and Rem was ridiculously attached to the huge, mahogony instrument. It was an attachment that no one in her family understood, but the piano had always been around, and Rem had said her first words sat at it.

After a few more moments of contemplation, Rem focused her eyes on the group in front of her once more. They weren't really doing much at the moment. Sure, the whole group wasn't here yet, but so what? "So, when do we get this show on the road?" she asked, flashing a grin and pushing some hair from her eyes, adjusting her hat slightly at the same time.

remmy is currently arriving just in time for band practice

[Bifflestick]

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

oh, wait a minute
do i mean fun or do i mean carnage?
i get them confused

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

text herr.

[Bifflestick]

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

oh, wait a minute
do i mean fun or do i mean carnage?
i get them confused

☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰☰

"What you don't know,
Is that I lie awake,
Wishing you were here tonight,
What you don't know,
Is that I loved you long before we were alive,
Cause how would you know, how could you know,
So now I'm gonna tell you everything.
What you don't know."

The small, russet haired girled finished the song to applause and stood from the piano and bowed, before making her exit. Her shift was over - someone else could take over now. She'd actually quite happily cover their shift as well, but they would never allow that and besides, she'd never deny someone the chance to make music. The piano was the only instrument she could play, but she played it well, and she sang incredibly well too. "You were marvellous, Remmy love," Crystal, the girl going on after her, told her. The red head smiled and nodded, wishing the blonde girl good luck before vanishing, hurrying back to her room to shower and change. Currently she was wearing a simple black dress and black stillettos, but that wouldn't last long. She wasn't a huge fan of dresses, but she usually had to wear them when she performed. But everything faded away when she performed. There was only her and the piano. The backing band - if there was one - the audience...she barely noticed. She noticed the appluase, acknowledged it, and it made her feel good to know that people enjoyed her singing and playing. But that wasn't why she did it. She did it because she felt alive when she played. Music meant a lot to her - it was what she had always wanted to do. And, okay, maybe being a singer on a cruise ship wasn't quite how she had always imagined her life going, but it wasn't all that bad. She had some good friends, after all. And a good job. And she got to see some beautiful places, and got to sing beautiful songs, and got to paly beautiful things on a truly amazing piano. It wasn't a bad way to live, really.

As her thoughts were ambling along of their own accord, spiking off in random directions that she didn't tell them to spike off in, her black Blackberry Curve buzzed, alerting her to a text message. She constantly had it on vibrate, because she had discovered long ago that the text and ring tones just served to annoy her. And when it was on vibrate she still knew it was going off, after all. With a grin, she shoved her hand into her bag and dug around for the phone, finally finding it with a triumphant grin. Remington Daisy-Mae MacDonald - more commonly known as Rem, or sometimes Remmy or Mac - pressed a few buttons - she was still getting used to her new phone - and found the message. Etta. Of course. With another smile, Rem replied.

To ;; Etta-Betta
From ;; Rem-bo
You know it, sis-tah!
I'll be there once I smell nice and am wearing something awesome.
Remmy <3

She hit send and shoved her phone back into her bag. Or were they called Blackberries? Was a Blackberry classed as a phone? A frown creased Rem's features, then she shook her head. She used it as a mobile, and therefore that is what it was. There, that was decided. With a grin and a bounce in her step - which soon fell away because it was hard to be bouncy in stilettos - she carried on towards her room. Once there, she opened the door and flung it open flamboyantly, kicking her shoes off as soon as she was through the door and dropping back down to her rather impressive height of five feet two inches. She flung her bag onto her bed and wriggled out of her clothes, grabbing a towel and heading for the bathroom for a shower. She sang while she cleaned herself, washing her skin and hair, not needing to shave because she'd done it that morning. Two showers a day - but then, she kind of needed it after spending all that time under those damn lights. She grinned to herself. Plus, she wanted to look her best for Max. At that thought, a soft, longing sigh fell through her lips, her rather disconcertingly bright emerald eyes sparkling like the gems themselves. Max. The daytime bartender, and the object of her affections - not that he had any idea, of course. Rem might be fearless and rebellious and daring, but when it came to matters of the heart she kept it close to her chest. She was too nervous to do or say anything to show Max how she felt, so for now she could only daydream. With another sigh, she stepped from the shower and dried herself, before wrapping herself up in a fluffy dressing gown and heading back into her bedroom.

She went to her wardrobe, opened the doors and peering intently at the contents. Rem wasn't known for dressing in style, she just wore whatever the hell she wanted and damn what anyone thought. After a few moments of contemplation, she selected a new outfit. White slim fit jeans, a black button down shirt, a white silk tie and a black trilby hat with a length of white ribbon just about the rim. She dressed slowly, and then grabbed a pair of plain black Converse All Star high tops. Her hair was still damp and starting to wave lightly, as it did when she allowed it to dry naturally. She ran a brush through it, put on the bare minimum of make up and grabbed her bag. It was black, so it worked, and she checked her phone again before leaving her room and heading for the lift, before having to dart back to her room because she had forgotten to lock the door. Since this was typical Rem behaviour, it never fazed anyone, though it did mean she had to wait for the lift. She waited patiently, tapping her foot slightly, her thoughts on her friends and, of course, Max. Damnit, why wouldn't he go away? Rem sighed and pushed some hair from her eyes, dancing into the lift when it arrived and hitting the button she wanted, smiling warmly at her lift mates. They gave her outfit an odd look, and Rem just grinned in response. She was more than used to weird looks for her fashion choices, and it didn't bother her anymore. She thought she looked good, and she felt comfortable, and that was all that mattered. Hey, at the weekend she would fully wear something totally casual to slob about in, see what they said to that. She giggled as she lift got to her floor, and she bounded out of it, all grace now that she was in flat shoes again.

She headed for the bar, and was only slightly disappointed to see that Max had knocked off and Ethan was on. Max would surely be back soon - they always hung out like this. She spotted Etta and Rae and bounced over, jumping onto a stool next to her friends. "Evenin' guys! How are you? Had a fun day?" she asked, Scottish accent getting looks as it always did - on the Beautiful Maria, her Scottish accent was nothing short of exotic, which Rem found endlessly amusing. Ethan asked what he could get her and Rem pondered for a few moments. She always liked to try something different, but after a few moments she gave up. "Knock me up a cocaine martini, Ethan," she grinned, opting for her very favourite drink, though they never lasted long enough for her taste. Once she had her drink and was settled, Rem turned those bright eyes on her friends expenctantly, sipping her drink. Yum. Ethan made good drinks. Not as good as Max...or maybe that was her crush on him. Rem pushed the thought aside, locking it away for a later time, and smiled at her friends. Nothing like a night with your friends to wind down after a long week at work.