TESTING STUFFS NO POASTY PLEASE

[sheldor the CONQUEROR]

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[*] [url=LINK]RP SAMPLES[/url]
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profile skelly

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[color=COLOR2][u][color=white]xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx[/color][size=15]BIOGRAPHY [/color][color=white]xxx[/color][/u][/color]
1 paragraph

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[sheldor the CONQUEROR]

இ miss S E L I N A carlisle <<

xx ____ aka K I T T I E

" you may think at first I'm as mad as a hatter
when I tell you a cat must have three different names "

" but I tell you a cat needs a name that's particular
a name that's peculiar, and more dignified
else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular
or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride? "

Selina Carlisle strolled into her house. It was not as grand as her tastes usually ran, but it was more practical than the great manses and townhouses. Located on the outskirts of town, there was not much around but farmland. This manor had two floors, with a large kitchen, formal and informal dining area, three sitting rooms, bathrooms on each floor (and a private bathroom for the master bedroom), 4 guest bedrooms, with a cellar beneath the kitchen and the servants quarters in the attic with a separate staircase leading straight to the kitchen. Selina detested the idea that without servants, one was considered to keep a poor household. The silly habits of the elite socialites, though nothing near as outrageous compared to the Europeans, was troublesome for her. She loved extravagance and lavish displays of wealthy, do not mistake her dislike of servants for modesty, no; she simply disliked the inconvenience of explaining her comings and goings to nosy employees. She had brought with her a retinue of servants when she had relocated to Brisbook, and they were all high-class servants that prided themselves in efficiency and secrecy. She had made it clear that questioning her behavior was tantamount to the worst kind of betrayal, and not was curiosity discouraged and punished, but it was hinted that any suspicion of leak of household and personal information would result in an undesirable situation for all. They did not love her, but they respected her. She paid them well, and ensured their general satisfaction with her as their mistress. They always had good clothing, food, and even days off and bonuses for holidays. No, she was not worried about them turning on her anytime soon.

Still, she didn't get where she was now by trusting people, and she wasn't about to start. She had no illusions that their loyalty was infallible--she more than anyone understood the desire to seek one's own well-being before others. She was always looking out for number one, and as a part of her childhood, had learned that paranoia and a certain level of caution was always beneficial--even if you did everything right, you could still end up getting duped. She snorted at the thought, a rather ungraceful gesture. If anyone's going to be scheming, it'll be me. To her knowledge, only a handful of people had screwed her over since she took control of her life and went the way of the bandit. She had a colorful past, and it was always taboo.

She had grown up in a different culture, full of music, art, and passion. The foundation was rotten, however, and she had lived among it. She had a lot of people to thank for molding her into the well trained burglar she was today. She didn't often think about her past, but sometimes memories rose up unbidden, resurfacing at the cause of subtle cues. She sat, staring into the large mirror at herself. It was still so strange to see a well-fed Selina, surrounded by gilded frames and elaborate drapery. Her attention wavered for a moment, and she thought about her life recently. She had moved to Brisbook six months ago, having purchased this manor before she came to stay. She had no real ties to any one place at a time, but this time she had decided to stay for awhile. Partly because of a certain someone that had proved a bit of an annoyance to all but a marvelous toy to her, but also because she felt comfortable just staying here for now. She had recently been moving from town to town, and it was convenient to stay here. There was a group she had come with, of other "bandits" (though she did not think of herself so much as a bandit any longer) and was content to work with them as she pleased. Her gaze traveled to the array of elegant masquerade masks that hung on the wall, partially for display. Hidden in one full mask was the one she wore on her excursions, a simple black band worn over her eyes to partially obscure her identity. She had an entire outfit (it was rather scandalously fashioned, though quite practical for scaling walls) hidden beneath a floorboard in her closet--just in case anyone came snooping, it was also covered by a rug.

She wore a silk and cotton day dress in vibrant autumn hue, with a large bustle and slight train at the back. The neckline was fringed with tiered lace, similar to the wide bell sleeves, which were fitted before flaring out at the elbow. She wore a beaded shawl draped over her shoulders, and a simple but elegant necklace of rubies set into metallic squares, connected in a chain. It had been lifted one profitable night from a carriage she had ambushed as the driver was not paying attention, stopped to have a drink. Someone had been moving, it seemed, and they were not too careful about watching their goods. A matching pair of earrings dangled down from her ears, covered now by the tumbling thick curls of dark chestnut brown. Her hair fell to the small of her back, having been let down from the elaborate hairstyle it had been set in earlier that day. She was contemplating changing her clothing before she left for the bar--after all, she wasn't sure if she wanted to be seen as Selina going into a saloon. People of her social standing didn't have to go to the saloon, they had their own cache of alcohol and entertainment. The owner, a certain dignified Mr. Dumont had invited everyone, and it would be poor manners to decline, would it not? He was, after all, of similar (or outwardly exceeding) standing to her. Deciding it was best to refrain from being "incognito" for now, she motioned for Mary to come over and fix her hair. Nothing too elaborate, but an impressive display of curls and pins nonetheless.It would be perfect for when she donned her mask, keeping her hair out of the way. Pretty, yet practical. If tonight did not prove to be fascinating, she would be greatly, greatly disappointed. Always ready for a worst-case scenario, she made sure to dismiss Mary from the room before concealing her various weapons on her person. One such weapon was an set of ornamental hair pins that she slid into her hair, concealed by a few well placed curls.

She slid her hands into a pair of black cotton gloves, caught up her small purse, and set off for the saloon, the heels of her lace-up boots clicking on the tiled floor of the hallway. A short carriage ride later found her standing in the road, skirt lifted just enough that as she stepped down, she did not catch the material on the toe of her boots. Nodding to the driver, he set off to wait until she was ready to leave, though he would probably join then inside for the free "refreshments". Lifting her nose slightly, she entered the saloon, Sniffing indignantly, she swept into the room and selected a prominent table and set herself down..

She stared around at the small crowd gathered about, and began pulling off her gloves and stowing them in her purse, pulling the shall down from her shoulders so that it draped about her arms. The material of her skirts pooled out around her, flounces spilling over the sides of the chair. Not too long ago, she would have died to even be able to touch a dress such as this. She had worked hard, and now she was living a life of luxury. Sure, it could be stressful at times, but overall she loved the thrill and danger of it all. So far she had not been caught, and it had gone to her head. She was still careful, but she was confident in her abilities. She had no qualms about stealing from others, especially those that were better off. When she had been the one on the streets, no one had helped her--so she helped herself to their wealth. Until she began to steal jewelry and the such, no one even really knew she had stolen from them. A few coins here, some food there, selling what she didn't want and stealing her own food. She wondered if there would be anyone worth talking to; there were not many people she looked forward to seeing, but she loved watching. She surreptitiously watched the other clients in the saloon, recognizing all of them, for it was not so big a town that there were people you did not see often, even though she was out in the countryside. She absently wondered if she'd be seeing Miss Martin, a particular acquaintance of hers, one of the few people she easily tolerated.

She was waiting for the arrival of some key people, and though to the unwary eye she seemed like any innocent (though colorful) rich young lady, beneath her dress was the costume of a wanted feline. She hadn't expressly chosen a cat as her costumed identity, but the idea of her being a cat had resulted in a spread of her nickname as well. No, she had not been caught, but she had been spotted--made it that much more interesting! The rest of her costume, especially her mask, were also concealed in her purse, ready for quick transformation. She certainly didn't want to be the first person to meet up with the Boss; she wasn't scared of him, per se, but he...unsettled her, and she didn't want to be alone with him. She could handle herself, but she wasn't worried about physical pain. He had a way of twisting things around, like a snake held by the tail that twists upon it's own body and strikes it's captor. She was rather excited about the plan that was about to be set off, though she almost always worked solo, it was nice to share the blame with others. Behind the painted facade, a wicked smile was in place in her thoughts. She declined anything to drink, stating that she was simply awaiting the arrival of an acquaintance. She sat silently, playing the demure woman, while she watched the doorway.

" but above and beyond there's still one name left over
and that is the name that you never will guess
the name that no human research can discover
but the cat himself knows, and will never confess "

---------------------------------------------------------------
JOSEPHINE SELINA KITTIE xx but a lady never tells....

[sheldor the CONQUEROR]

AUUUUGH I HATE GAIA I HAD A BUNCH TYPED UP AND GAIA DELETED IT WHEN I PRESSED SUBMIT D:< D:< D:<
well, because i made you wait so long, bailey, here's a nice long poast for you : D hopefully you don't see it till its all done haha

It wasn't that he was particularly unattractive. Terrence thought he actually was fairly good-looking, compared to some. Maybe he was no Brad Pitt, but he wasn't disfigured either. People liked to act as though everyone was shallow, and that looks were all that mattered. But that wasn't really true; it was really all about confidence. He knew that. It's what all the feel-good movies said. Confidence, that's what you needed. Well, it wasn't something he had an abundance of. No, he didn't dislike himself, but he really was just....awkward. Just awkward. It wasn't as if he'd never had a girlfriend before, but they usually didn't last. He didn't know how he was supposed to act around girls; why was it so different than being around his male friends? He seemed to have trouble making friends of any gender, really, now that he thought about it. The only one that had stuck around him for a long time was Aaron, with whom he had grown up. Was he annoying? Sometimes, even he thought so, but it was always easy to think you were worse than what other people thought. He spent too much time ruminating...yeah, that was one of his problems. He thought too much about every little thing. Not what other people did necessarily; he didn't over-analyze that. It's what he did. It sounds self-centered, and...well, maybe it is, but not in any way that helped. He couldn't help but obsess over everything he did in social settings and what the other person must be thinking, though he didn't often voice his insecurities it always kept him from making a real connection with people. Again, excepting Aaron in this. Perhaps it was growing up with him, or knowing that no matter what he did they would still be friends, even if he was a bit of a clumsy fool once in awhile.

He thought about it vaguely as he took the public bus to the mall. Sure, his family had enough money to buy him a car, which he did have (and had owned since they got it for him in high school). But he had to pay for his own gas and bills now, and honestly; the bus was cheaper. It was fun, in a quirky sense; he liked to people watch. The ride from his neighborhood to downtown was longer than if he had drove, and he didn't even have to worry about parking. It allowed time to think and observe your surroundings, and he liked that. It also required exercise; you had to walk to the bus stop, and it was a nice little walk through downtown to get to the mall, and then repeated on the way back. Years ago he'd had to pay, but now that he was in the university he rode for free with a swipe of his student card, which made it even better. It was annoying to try and get a parking spot on campus, and it was always so far away from classes that you had to ride a bus to get to the main campus anyway. What was the point? None that he could see. So, he rode the bus. That's where he was currently sitting, staring out the window as the houses passed through his field of vision. This section was the expensive part of downtown. It managed to be scenic while abutting a metropolitan city (it only took about ten minutes to walk to downtown from the edge) with all the rolling hills and original Victorian-style houses sprinkled down the roads.

As the bus pulled into the depot, he stepped off the bus and adjusted his large, black square-rimmed glasses. They were real, he actually needed them to aid his sight, but they were almost over-sized frames, the type that were currently...in vogue. Secretly, he felt like Clark Kent. Except he wasn't actually a superhero, much less a super-anything. He was a pretty average guy. He had an average body size, average looks, your standard nerdiness, average grades, and a slightly less than average social life. He was currently wearing a black batman tee that was printed to look like the caped crusader's costume, all in gray with the bat-logo splayed across the chest, and two-dimensional utility belt that wrapped around the waist. He was also wearing a pair of plain black jeans and black high-top converse sneakers with the standard shoelaces replaced by black ones. Ok, so maybe more than just standard nerdiness. His hair stood up not exactly in a stylized fashion. Sure, he had showered and didn't even put any gunk in, but his hair just did it naturally did it. Wiry, he supposed. Wiry and thick. He hadn't shaved, either. He wasn't going for a beard or anything, but he didn't mind looking a bit scruffy.

He finally pushed through the doors to the mall, and drew a deep breath. It was later in the evening, around dinner time. Most of his friends were either at work or had other plans or were just lazing about their house. He couldn't blame them, sometimes he just felt like lounging about the house doing nothing as well. Most notably, however, was the fact that Aaron was unavailable. He knew that he was supposed to be going out on a dinner date with his girlfriend and their childhood...acquaintance, Vivian. Oh, Vivian; she was beautiful. Aaron was, of course, the king of their highschool, so naturally he had won her heart. Terrence had known he never stood a chance, and not just because she had refused to acknowledge his existence on the rare chances he attempted to talk to her. Even now that she was around him much of the time with Aaron, she still mostly tried to ignore him. It didn't matter. He had it bad...and despite how often he had tried to shake off his feelings for her, he couldn't seem to do so. He wasn't sure what it was; she wasn't nice to him, she was beautiful, and she was possessive. Though not completely sure about it, he was rather certain he didn't like jealous and possessive girls. Of course, he never really had much of a chance to find out, but it didn't really sound all that great; sure, a little bit maybe would be endearing, but no one wanted to have someone breathing down their neck about every little thing. He sighed. What am I doing here? he asked himself, trying to recall his reason for coming down here in the first place. Aside from wasting time? Ohh...riiiight. Hello, hotstuff. His eyes caught sight of the videogame store. That's right; that's why he had taken out $50 from his bank account. Eh. I'll go later...maybe wander around a bit so I don't have to carry a bag with me through the whole mall. The light rumble in his stomach reminded him it was just about that time. That lovely time for...consuming food. He directed himself toward the food court, and he had the odd feeling he was looking at someone he knew. His gaze fell on Vivian, and it took him a few minutes to mentally confirm that it was her. What the hell was she doing sitting down on a bench at the mall, much less alone in the food court? It was like something straight out of the Twilight Zone. If she was here with friends, she'd be up and about and chatting...if this was where she was going to wait and meet for Aaron....was that even possible? Her waiting? In a mall? For Aaron? To eat...there?! Taking a deep breath and steeling himself for the probable immediate shootdown he was about to receive, he ambled over to her and grinned.

"Vivian? Hey, I hope I'm not bothering you. Meeting Aaron here?" He voiced his theory aloud, and glanced up at the sign of the place she was sitting in front of. It was your run-of-the mill mall restaurant. You know the type; all the expense of a fancy restaurant with none of the atmosphere, variation of cuisine, nor even quality of cuisine. It was set into a mall, for Picard's sake. Sure, it was nice if you wanted a nicer meal than the fast food offered at the other stands in the mall, and you were hanging out with your friends, but a date? Really? "Huh. I've never eaten here before. You'll have to let me know how it is!" He smiled to her, lying through his teeth. He didn't care about how the food was, it was like any other place. Nothing special. Standard meat dishes, standard pasta, pizza, salads. She seemed to be acknowledging him, which was a step up from her usual reaction, and feeling more confident, his smile broadened. "Do you mind if I sit with you while you wait?" He gestured to the empty space beside her, half expecting to be refused. When she didn't say he couldn't, he was vaguely surprised. A moment later, recovering from it, he sat down beside her. They lapsed into silence, and he tugged on the hem of his shirt, wondering what he ought to say next. They'd never had a real conversation before, and he only knew her on a superficial level; from what he observed, and from what Aaron told him about her. It really wasn't much; Aaron didn't go around talking about his girlfriend all day, after all. It would get a bit awkward for most people...although Terrence liked to hear about her, so it was a little disappointing. He didn't think they had much in common except a relative fondness (romantic or platonic) for Aaron, and that seemed bout it. He was relieved when she spoke up first.

"Shopping? Nah, not really. I was thinking about buying a movie or a video game or something, maybe grabbing something to eat while I was here. I haven't any plans for tonight, obviously, so I thought I'd wander around a bit to kill some time before heading over to Best Buy. I swear, I didn't know you two were eating here and I am not stalking you." He paused, glancing nervously at her, and then offered a hesitant laugh. He hadn't meant to make it sound awkward, he really was trying to just make a joke, but even to his ears it sounded a bit weird. Changing tact, he blurted out what he was thinking, without pause to consider the implications or consequences."I'm surprised Aaron is taking you here, though." He wrinkled his nose. Sure, he believed it, but he felt as though he was doing his friend a wrong by pointing it out, even if it was true. It was almost as if...he was trying to sabotage their relationship. A little part of him wanted to. Okay, a big part of him wanted them to break up and have Vivian fall into his arms. But he didn't want to hurt Aaron like that, abuse their friendship. He was like the brother Terrence never had, and he didn't want to jeopardize that; but he also knew he wasn't going to be able to stop himself. When Terrence went out to eat, it was a special occassion. If he was going to go through the effort of leaving his house to eat, he wasn't going to get something he could just whip up himself in his own kitchen; no, he liked quirky little cafes and small business restaurants, locally run shops and cultural cuisine menus. He wanted the atmosphere, the pretentiousness, the variance and novelty of it all. Most of the time it ended up being even cheaper than run of the mill places like this.

"He ought to take you to eat somewhere downtown, like an actual restaurant. A mall one is kind of cheating a bit, don't you think? I mean, I'm sure it'll be good food and all, but I like the atmosphere of restaurants that aren't actually attached to shopping malls much better. Or maybe I'm just being a snob, eh?" He grinned at her, and his smile faltered as she contradicted him. "I don’t think you’re a snob." He could hear his heart beating, the blood pulsing through his arteries and the veins at his temple. He sucked in a breath of air when he realized he wasn't breathing. "Well." He paused, just looking at her. "Thanks, then. You tried calling Aaron obviously, eh? What time was he supposed to meet you? He always makes me wait, but I always figured you got preferential treatment, being his girlfriend and all." He arched a brow at the incredulous look he gave him. What was so surprising about what he said? He didn't see why she should be so shocked that he thought Aaron shouldn't be making her wait like that, it was true. Didn't people usually get treated better if they had relationship status like that, when compared to someone that was just a friend. Aaron didn't seem like the type to treat someone special just because of it though, now that he thought about it. As much as he loved Aaron, the man was a bit self-centered at times.

"Twenty minutes? Yikes. That's a long time to sit here by yourself. You must've been really bored, eh? You should've wandered around and made him wait instead!" He laughed, feeling another pang of conscience. "Yeah, a game or a movie or something, just to give me summat to do later when I go home. I do have other friends, but they are all busy. I don't mind hanging out by myself either, so it's not so big a deal." He shrugged. "Video game....hm. I dunno. I've got all the systems...." She smiled at him and he responded in kind, taken with the fact that she was smiling...at him. At him! "Probably something with a lengthy plot, you know? I play anything really as long as its fun. RPGs, MMOs, racing, FPS, or...well my favorite type would have to be arcade style fighting games, but they really don't take a long time to play, its fun for just a random game of something. I need to keep myself busy though, ya know?" He laughed somewhat nervously, and it just turned into a sound of complaint as it ran into his next words. "Er, sorry. I sorta rambled on a bit there, huh?" Before he really had a chance to think about it, she responded to his conversation as if his awkward interlude had never occurred.

"I like RPGs, but I completely fail at FPS. I have problems when it comes to aiming." Ok, now, he thought he had more than reasonable excuse to be shocked. He was more than shocked, he was in complete disbelief. His jaw dropped open and he stared at her as if seeing her in a whole new way. In his mind, she had a celestial background lighting as a non-existant breeze ruffled her hair in a divine manner. She was...a goddess. He nearly slipped and said so. "You are--" He was cut off as her gaze flickered behind him, her expression darkening. "Took you long enough." His hear skipped a beat and he shut his mouth, gulping slightly. He turned around, and....yes, there he was. Of course. Coming in at just the right moment to ruin everything. "I know. I’m sorry. I brought you flowers. It’s a big bouquet, but it’s in the car. I thought it might have been embarrassing to bring them here. Hey, Terrence. How’s going?" Terrence offered him a small wave. He felt a recurring pang of guilt at his previous thought. That wasn't very nice, Aaron was his best friend, and here he was consorting with Vivian; if anything Terrence was in the wrong, and boy did he know it.

"So what are you doing here?" Terrence shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "Oh, well....I was bored because I have essentially no social life except the time we hang out together, and so with you busy I figured I'd go to the mall and buy a videogame or something...I didn't realize you were coming here. I j-I saw Vivian sitting here alone and figured I'd offer my company while she waited. Anyway, I guess I'll go and buy those videogames now, ahaha....yeah. You guys, uh, have a great date, ok? Have fun. Um....later. Sorry." he ended awkwardly (no surprise there). As he turned to walk away, he heaved a sigh of relief. At least he didn't sound any less eloquent than usual....

His last thought as he trailed off in the direction he had originally come in is that he really was in trouble now....and he really wanted to offer to help her with the first person shooter games.

[sheldor the CONQUEROR]

❝ TEXTORZ ❞

addy.

[sheldor the CONQUEROR]

SIRIUS BLACK
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coding

Sirius Black stood on a table and kissed a girl. Neither of these events were singularly impressive. Plenty of times in the past had he stood upon the benches of the Gryffindor table in order to better address his peer audience in the Great Hall, most often to their amusement. You could almost always count on something interesting coming from Sirius. As for kissing a girl, it has previously been noted by almost everyone who had ever met him or even heard of him that he was something of a ladies' man; kissing a girl was not out of the ordinary for him, even if it was full on display for the entire Great Hall to see. The situation was certainly novel, but what good would it be if he merely offered the same things over and over again? Certainly, it did not completely please everyone. There were more than just a few jilted females in the crowd that threw a glare in his direction with every hope of frying them both on the spot, most especially the girl. Ah, but the girl....now see, this is where the situation got really exciting. This was not just some random female he had never met, nor was it someone that admired him. Loathed perhaps might be a better word, but either way she was obviously not a fan of Sirius Black and had been extremely open in demonstrating her negative feelings in that sector. Andy Lockhart. A heartbreaker in her own right, though it was most certainly without the intent (unlike, it might be argued, in Sirius' case) she stood defiantly before him to accept her fate. It hadn't really been the fairest of competitions because the terms had been altered so many times, the duration cut short. He had still won, as he knew he would. It wasn't like he couldn't survive without flirting a bit. Certainly, it was a large part of his public personality, but that didn't mean he had to depend on it. Restricting himself to polite conversation had been more than just a little aggravating and intense because he had to actively monitor his words and actions so nothing would slip. Just a passing inconvenience. He wasn't surprised that Andy thought so little of him so as to think that this would be so difficult for him to achieve...and the worst part was, she seemed genuinely surprised. And a little irritated; he wasn't exactly sure why. Well, he supposed she didn't need a reason. Generally his very existence was enough to make her angry, but then there was the other night; perhaps that was a supporting reason for her increased irritation toward him. That and the fact that she lost. Oh ho ho, and now she had to admit it--in front of the entire school, she would have to acquiesce to his demands as winner of the bet.

He saw the brief look of shock cross Andy's features at the suggestion. He arched a brow, wondering if she would go along with it or slap him in the face. She certainly seemed equally inclined to both, which made her even more alluring. He couldn't say that he really loved Andy, but at that moment he adored her. She was so different from anyone he had ever met. Hypocritical in her actions compared to her words but honestly so; she didn't always try to conceal her hypocrisy, which did not seem to be intentional either. She didn't throw herself at him (though he might have accepted that as well, he wasn't incredibly picky when it came to his 'love life' if it could be accurately called that) and she didn't spurn him so completely as to be frigid and uninteresting. She was not passive but fiery, one moment cheerful the next unbelievably annoyed at him, sometimes even managing to observe his presence with indifference. He was not a static man, and she was not a static woman. He couldn't stand monotony (which might partially account for his blatant disregard for the feelings of females in general) and she was impossible to guess. He could never assume what her next action or words would be with infallible accuracy like some people he had met, and that's why he admired her. That was why he had not, excepting the first time a few years back, made any real move on her. If she were like any other girl, he'd have pulled out all the stops to reel her in, but something always held him back. If he didn't know better, he'd have called her one of his best friends, whether she agreed to it or not. It may not have been a very usual friendship, but to him it was the best kind; volatile and unpredictable. At least life was never dull when he was around Andy.

He couldn't really say that he was surprised at the suggestion that they kiss. They were known to be enemies of the highest degree, and although they had to know that it wouldn't really bother Sirius (he was certain most would believe him to be thrilling at another conquest, especially given the situation) but it was really quite aimed at crippling Andy's pride. Even he couldn't think of anything that would give more acute pain to her reputation or ego. She was known as somewhat of a reserved female, described by the more egotistical as being frigid after she had damaged their ego. It annoyed him a bit, actually. They might not actively be cruel or malicious, but this request was quite devious; they wanted to humiliate her, to see her taken down a peg. If they thought they were going to get away with it, boy were they wrong. He couldn't really say that he was surprised at her reaction, either. She wasn't the type to give in to people like that, and if it really bothered her--well, she wouldn't show it. Let them think that everything was cool as ice. He supposed he ought to be used to her surprising him by now, but when he prepared for a demure if public kiss, she cast a mischievous grin on him, similar to last night. The scene replayed in his mind as the crowd around them faded to the background, the sounds of chanting and jeering washing over him. She drew closer to him, and he gazed down into her upturned face, full of spirit and fire. There was the ghost of a smile on his face, for it had quickly faded. He wondered if she was just playing with him. Last night could not possibly have been serious on her part, and right now he was sure she was continuing some scheme to burst his ego-bubble, to take him down a peg, to make him feel like....well, what he supposed she thought the girls he had left behind felt. He wanted to believe that Andy was being her usual brutally honest character, but insecurities cropped up in his mind. His brow furrowed lightly as he regarded her with partial suspicion, cloaking it as he remembered he was standing in front of the entire Great Hall, and he was not about to lose his cool (again) in front of them. The open paranoia that had shone on his face disappeared behind the veneer of a self-indulgent grin. She closed the space between them and slipped her arms around his neck to grasp his thick hair in her fingers, her embrace forceful and her kiss urgent. Despite himself, his body responded to her, drawing her closer as he slipped his hands over her slender waist. He had tried to steel himself against it, to not let himself get caught up in all that she was, but she had snared him; he was a goner, and now he knew it for sure. He couldn't let her know; there was no way she could know that, and he would do all in his power to close himself off. He didn't like being laid bare in front of anyone. There's no way a girl like her could ever love someone like me. I could never endeavor to deserve her... his thoughts trailed off as he pulled away, cast her a broad grin and licked his lips as he turned to address the crowd, very slightly out of breath. He threw his arm over her shoulder and gestured to her with a flourish. "Ladies and gentlemen, Andy Lockhart!" he laughed, then dropped down to the floor and took his place on the bench, grabbed some of his food and excused himself. "Well, now, my grand exit. So long." he grabbed up a roll of bread and exited in as dignified a manner as he could, refraining from running out of the room. He walked outside at a brisk pace, anxious to get away from Andy, at least for the moment.

model ben barnes, graphix by panda, sirius black by jkr

[sheldor the CONQUEROR]

Curled up on the rather pristine but uncomfortable mattress was a tabby cat with beautifully long fur in a rather more reddish hue than orange. All around the trailer were signs of human inhabitance, though despite the early hours of the morning there was no human around, sleeping or otherwise. No human slept in this bed, and never had. Certainly, she lived in the trailer, but it was so unsuitable to any properly sensitive human being that she had quickly figured out a way to get the most from her situation. Luckily, Elia Chikanowsky was no ordinary human; aside from the fact that she lived at and worked at a circus, she had more than just the ability to squeeze herself into odd positions. She could bend her very bones, stretch her muscles, change her appearance, and even her entire shape. The cat sleeping on the bed took up much more space than any normal cat ever could, and that is because it was actually the sleeping form of Elia. A cat could sleep comfortably almost anywhere and in any position, and since she had begun sleeping in that form she had never awoken tired the next day. The larger than average form was out of comfort and convenience. There was a certain loss of biological matter and even more on a molecular level than could possibly be healthy. It all had to go somewhere, and she had finally figured out a way to store it inside of a crystalline pendant that she quite literally always wore; it became a part of her when she shapeshifted, usually resting in the form of similar markings in fur or on skin, etc, if she didn't want to have it around her neck. In this cat form, it took shape as a little droplet dangling off a silver chained collar. Larger forms were easier because of the small effort it took, but the more of her mass that had to be taken away, the harder it was. She had limits; she couldn't take the form of an insect, for example. It was simply too difficult for her to master. Perhaps if she found a more efficient manner of transforming or storing her bio-molecular matter, she might move on to the smaller forms. So far she had not found anyone like her, though she knew they existed. If only she could find a master shapeshifter to teach her what they knew....

With a jaw-breaking yawn that clearly displayed her fangs as well as the back of her throat the cat shifted and rolled over onto her stomach and lifted her large, furry body to stretch, blinking in the sunlight that was streaming through the window. It was wonderful, those first few moments of waking up. Much better than the human experience of waking up, especially since it didn't matter how long she slept; she always woke feeling refreshed in this form, and that transferred over to her human form. She needed her energy, too; if she was to perform at the top of her abilities (expected, undoubtedly, by the circus Master) and still maintain her wits about her and keep from wanting to really just collapse and give up on it all. As it was, no matter how much energy she had at the end of the day it was almost guaranteed that she would feel wiped out. The cat sat up and began the ritual of cleaning herself. She had spent enough time in the cat form and around real cats in her lifetime that she had picked up many of the mannerisms. She usually maintained her personality, but with a change in shape came a change in her physiological make-up and that, by extension, meant her brain and her personality. Sometimes even something a simple as a change in hair color or style could result in a mood swing until she could stabilize her brain chemistry and fix anything that had been altered. When in a different form, such as the cat, she was limited to what fit into the cat's cranium, retaining her self-consciousness as a human paired with that of the cats. She was unable to resist the most basic of instincts. When she finished cleaning her fur and settling it to her tastes, she stretched again; but this time, her form began to change.

She wasn't exactly sure how to explain it. It was something she could do, almost instinctively. She had learned through accident and practice. Somehow with her mind, she could see every particle of her being and so could bend it to her will by touching out with a mental hand and twisting it the way she wanted it to go. It had been painful the first few years of her life when she couldn't control it, but she had long learned to separate herself from pain, and though she was not stupid enough to ignore it to the point that she could injure herself, she ignored the pain long enough to change and fix any damage that had occurred. She found the alien matter of the necklace, a void in the image of her self, and she saw the part of her that was hidden safely in its tiny walls, invisible to the naked human eye, partially obscured by the void of the inorganic material. She wheedled it out of its confinement and felt it pour back into her being, like a wellspring of energy and a rush of excitement, the feeling of being whole again. With a deft twist of a series of networks of her molecules and she opened her eyes to the right height again. She stared down at her hands and her naked human body. She could transform with clothing on, but it was much too difficult to bother with when she was just going to sleep; same with maintaining a proper size for the average household cat. Convenience and comfort, convenience and comfort. She took a few steps forward, crossing the distance of her trailer in less time than she would have liked. She approached a mirror that had recently been cleaned and shined. A familiar face stared back at her, and she smiled. It was a face with smooth features, bright green eyes and pale skin with a splay of freckles crossing from cheek to cheek over the bridge of her nose. Her face was a bit long this time, her previously chubby cheeks given way to defined cheekbones and a slender jawline. She sighed; At least I still look mostly like I usually do. The shock of fiery bright red hair started with the eyebrows and eyelashes and drew the eye to the long locks that tumbled in waves down her back. She had a slim figure, though it was almost unhealthy. A bit on the gangly side, she was tall and skinny and though she sometimes feigned gracefulness (mostly when in the public eye) she could really be quite awkward at times. She didn't get enough nourishment to make up for all the energy she expended, unfortunately.

She crossed to what passed for her wardrobe, and pulled out an outfit. She was a very big fan of fashion, but not just present fashion; she was more interested in older styles, and was currently on a 1950s kick. She had recently acquired a rather extravagant outfit in teal silk, a pencil skirt that fell just to her knees and matching jacket. She pulled them on over a black lacy undershirt and buckled the thick black fabric belt around her waist. Skin-toned stockings clung to her legs, and she slipped her feet into a pair of black stilettos with the pointed toes. Perhaps not practical, but she had finally learned to conquer the terrain with her footwear and to make up for her occasional gracelessness with added concentration. She stared in the mirror and worked on changing her hair, curling it up and styling it without a single spritz. She applied lipstick and eye make-up the way everyone else did. She could have altered pigments in her skin to mimick it, but there really was nothing like the real deal. It just didn't look the same! It did, however, help to keep the appearance that her makeup never smudged or faded, and was used as a background for the actual makeup itself. Her lips ruby red and her eyes lined in tasteful dark lines, eyelashes exaggerated, she smiled at her reflection. The perfect image of a modernized take on a 50s American woman. She picked up a scuplted black hat decorated in tiny black and teal glass beads and fitted it to her head, tugging the black netting down so it brushed against her forehead. Now, she was ready. Catching up a pair of black gloves and a decorative umbrella that was as thin as a stick and when opened thinner than a paper parasol, she clicked down her steps and made her way as carefully as possible over to the main grounds. It was well past sun-up, a luxury she was afforded due to the fact that she did not have to appear regularly for her act. A few hours a day after lunch was when she was scheduled; unlike most, she did not have a tent or any such thing in which she sat all day performing for those who approached her.

She was part of an act, a show given at a set time and place. She was free until then. She worked late, however, so there was that trade off. It meant that she had time to wander about and talk to the circus goers and her peers alike. As a result of how exhausting her show was, she couldn't keep it up continuously, and had an hour break between each of her sets. She wore a different costume each day depending on how she felt, but they were always the same: the same fabric and always skin-tight. She couldn't waste her time transforming with loose clothing. If it was like a second skin it was easier to grab onto and shift. Certainly, with her show she didn't do any great transformation on the outside; no alternate animal forms or even alternate humanoid forms. She changed the structure of her bones, organs, muscle, and skin, stretching here and folding in there, twisting and bending her bones to fit into small and unlikely containers. It was something that people could attempt, but no one could contort their body like she could; unless, of course, they had powers similar to hers (but that went almost without saying). That was what made her act more interesting than those at other circuses. At least, she liked to think so. She could do any challenge presented to her, fit into anything and twist her body into any shape. No one could boast such confidence, but she most certainly could. Even if the normal human body, melted into a puddle of liquid, couldn't actually fit in (say) a vase, she could reduce her mass and squeeze into it nonetheless. It didn't hurt that she was a pretty face with an eccentric personality.

Instead of wandering purposelessly about, she decided to go and watch some of the other shows before hers. She took a seat near the front with the rest of the audience, carefully sitting herself down so that she didn't tear the fabric on her snug skirt, her legs crossed as she sat looking all prim and proper. Shaylee was one of her favorites; the fae was graceful and elegant. She was also one of the only people here that didn't seem cold or anti-social or too reserved all the time. While Elia was not nearly as exuberantly cheerful as Shay, she certainly was boisterous and outgoing and not afraid to show her emotions and was prone to bouts of giddiness and outspoken happiness as any normal person. Sometimes she thought the others took everything too seriously. Even if you're in a bad place, isn't it better to make yourself feel happy? It just sort of doubles the misery of it all if you're in a bad situation and you maintain a bad attitude. She adjusted her hat and stood up, clapping as Shay finished her set. She had come in the last part of it; despite having seen it many times before (different routines perhaps) it was always exciting. She watched Febre for a little while, but left before he was finished with his set. She didn't count it as rude; she had watched his full show before as well, and she had just realized she hadn't said hello to anyone yet. Slipping out of the tent, she made her way to the witch's lair. Spotting Leela hanging out of a window sill, her lips stretched into a broad smile and she waved a gloved hand to catch the woman's attention. "Lee!" she exclaimed as she drew closer. "Good morning. Have you been busy?" she queried, a light smile upon her face.

cat wakes up
shifts into elia
gets ready goes out and wanders
wasting time before she has to perform her show
only performs a few times a day because of what her 'skill' is
cannot maintain the physical exertion continuously
what her skill really is (changes on a molecular level?)
how she came to the circus
doesn't really remember first day, at the time didn't seem important
just food and lodging in return for something natural
thinks about growing up in ireland, family, blah blah sob story w/e
observes the people around the circus; employees & customers
thinks about running from the circus--lost sight of her true self
what would she do after that?

outfit: like on the left
"SPEECH"
THOUGHT
"NPC SPEECH"

[sheldor the CONQUEROR]

well, you got magic in your fingertips

The sound of a person deeply asleep crept even through the closed door as Alex shifted in her bed, snoring loudly. She never claimed elegance, but there was something almost artistic in the way she slept. Her body was curved, head on her pillow, one arm flung up and under her head, the other dangling off to the side, one leg covered in blankets and the knee pulled almost up to her outstretched arm, the other leg hanging off the side of the bed and completely exposed, showing the boxer shorts she was wearing as pajamas. Dawn had not yet broken and everything was still; no one was moving about the house and making noise, the sounds of traffic out in the streets, both vehicular and pedestrian, were muted, the birds only just beginning to stir. There was a comfortable lull to the air in her bedroom, everything cozy and warm and dark. It was perfect, though she was not exactly aware of the fact, currently dreaming about something evidently quite entertaining. The peaceful environment was quickly ripped apart by the monotonous and robotic tone that tore through the air, and yet....the sleeping form merely turned over. As it continued, an incessant aggravation, the fingers of the dangling hand searched for the button and turned it off. In another five minutes, it went off; apparently that was not the off button. The head rotated toward the offending box that read in piercing bright red numbers 5:45 am. In disbelief she woke up more and propped herself up on her elbow to stare at it. You have got to be kidding me!! Who the ******** set it for 5:40 AM?! Her hair standing up on its own, knotted at the back of her head and eyes squinting, she was barely even conscious. She found the snooze button with not just a little bit of trouble, then flopped back on the bed and promptly fell back into a deep sleep. When the alarm went off another five minutes later, in a fit of cranky early-morning rage, Alex seized the box and tore it out of the wall and tossed it off onto the floor, then turned over and went back to bed. Must be Justin's fault.... was the last coherent thought before she fell asleep again.

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

"ALEX! JUST WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING? GET YOUR BUTT OUT OF BED AND INTO THAT SHOWER, YOUNG LADY!!" her mother's voice screeching out above her nearly sent Alex tumbling out of bed, her heart racing as she was so rudely awakened. She thrashed for a moment before righting herself, and shot a powerful glare at her mother. "Don't do that, mom, I nearly died!!" she shouted right back to the woman standing in her bedroom, who merely rolled her eyes. "What are you doing still in bed? It's already well past 7. The bus is coming in about fifteen minutes, so you better be ready." As she left, Alex flopped back with a groan. First day of Junior year and she was already gonna be late. Well, time enough for a shower! She dragged herself out of bed and trudged off to the bathroom. When she accidentally met with her youngest brother, Max, in the hallway, he screamed with a little seriousness at her sudden and disconcerting appearance. Grumbling something at him and making a move as if to attack him, he turned tail and went back into his room.


She showered in five minutes, brushed her hair and rhymed a series of quick spells that instantly clothed her in a pair of skinny jean cut-offs that fell just above her knees, styled her hair, and fixed up her make-up. Her graphic tee was snuggly fitted and black with neon paint splatters all over it, a thin gray hoodie and a pair of plain, ratty black converse hi-tops covered her feet. Now that she had had time to wake up, she was a bit more peppy, but still reluctant to get ready. She hoped no one (namely Justin) had been in the hallway to hear her using magic to get ready. Certainly, no one but her parents would get angry, because they believed in doing things the hard way except when you needed to use the magic, but she was a big believer in using it whenever you felt like it, especially when it was much easier than taking the non-magical route. She dashed into her room and picked up an old red backpack with black trip that had sharpie all over it and a mouse-shaped cat toy sewn onto the side, as if it was climbing up it. It was packed with a bunch of random items to make it seem bulky. She strapped on a watch (digital of course, no analog for this one!) and pulled on a few neon colored plastic bangles. She caught her hair up and last minute decided to put it up in a thick pony tail, her bangs sweeping across her forehead, natural curly waves spilling down her back just past her shoulders. Her ears sported a pair of silver hoops. She slung her backpack over one shoulder and ran downstairs, scooping up the bagel on her mom's plate and ran off with a muffled "good-bye" around the warm bagel she was biting down on to hold as she slipped her other arm through the other strap and opened and slammed the door, running out to the bus stop. In the distance, she saw the looming hulk of the bus and Max following Justin aboard. Just as the doors were about to close, she slipped her hand in and muscled her way through, grinning at the surly bus driver. Ahhh....just in time.

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

While standing in front of her open locker, Alex began pulling all sorts of random objects out of her back and tossed them into her locker for safekeeping. She didn't want to have to haul all that around, anyway. She liked her backpack to look full when she left for school so her parents thought that she was lugging her books around. She stopped when it was empty and picked up a small handful of loose leaf papers. She sorted through them, eyes widening as she shuffled through them frantically. "Oh....s**t....no, where is my homework?" She paused mid-paper flip, and glanced up at the mirror at the back of her locker. Frowning quizzically at herself, she snorted and grinned. "Pfft, that's right, I don't do my homework. Oh well!" Just for good measure she threw the papers back into her backpack, dug out a ratty old looking notebook, the cover completely engulfed in doodles, and stuck a pen behind her ear. Glancing around, she saw that Harper wasn't there yet, and it was almost time for class--maybe she was there already....Alex had taken her time getting here, after all. Slinging the backpack over one shoulder, she slammed her locker shut. When it bounced back open, she slammed it again, and had to repeat the step once more before it would stay shut. Nodding, satisfied that it was closed for good, she turned on heel and went off to her class at a more than leisurely pace, strolling through the hallways with her bag hanging open behind her. Not that she didn't know, she simply didn't care. Who the hell wanted to steal her notebook, anyway? Not like there were any good notes in there, just the psychotic babble of her and Harper, on the rare occasions that Harper deigned to reply to her scribbled notes in class. Otherwise, it was mostly her own ramblings addressed to Harper, not often replied to.

The crowd in the hallway surged as she meandered down the worn tiles, then petered out as everyone arrived at their designated classrooms. One thing she appreciated in being a Junior was that she knew where almost all her classrooms were without even having to think about it. The layout was pretty simple once you got used to it. Unfortunately, that also meant that she didn't have an excuse for showing up late. That didn't stop her from attempting to use it in the past, of course, but that one was too overused by now that she didn't think it would fly this semester. Sure, she'd never had this teacher before, but they talked. Teachers had nothing better to do with their lives than to torture poor innocent children (like herself) with work, and gossip all day. She slipped her cellphone out of her pocket and flipped it open, quickly punching out a text message to Harper, keeping her phone open after she sent it.


Harper! y nt @ lockr?
Really, Alex? Why not just shorten it to "YN@L?"
!!! GUD IDEA
.........You are going to be late!
IKR!!! lol



Alex grinned to herself, skipping off down the corridor. She could just hear Harper sighing in her mind. She didn't see what the big deal was with using text slang, especially if you were....well, texting. It was short and easy, and anything that made her life easy....count Alex Russo in. For some reason Harper insisted that it was difficult to decipher, like a foreign code, and that it was very little effort to just type out the words in full. She heard the tinkling melody of that hated bell that signaled the beginning of class. How had she missed the warning bell? She had been paying attention....right? Oh well. First day. What were they going to do, send her to the principal's office? Hah. That was a laugh. Either way, she realized that she had made a grave mistake; first come first serve for the seats, unless the teacher instituted a seating chart. Her choice seat was by a window. Harper had gotten to class however, she must have saved Alex a seat....and she knew how partial Alex was to staring out the window at something more interesting than what was inside! She relaxed and slowed her pace, strolling into the classroom. The teacher looked at her archly, clearing her throat and making some generic teacherly comment that was supposed to guilt or humiliate Alex into arriving on time in the future. It didn't work in middle school, and it didn't work now. She mostly ignored the woman standing at the front of the room aside from a cheerful greeting, and she stopped as she stared around.

Harper was sitting next to the desk adjacent to the window. As their eyes met, Harper gave her an apologetic, hopeful smile. "Please don't be mad at me" is what her face read. Of course, though they did fight, it wasn't going to be over something as trivial as this. Almost trivial.....she saw that the seat behind her choice one was vacant, and so she slipped down and pulled the notebook out of her bag, dumping it at her feet still unzipped. She stared at the back of the head of the girl who had stolen her seat. She leaned up against the wall, sitting sideways in her desk. She glanced around the girl's body and saw an assortment of school items well organized on her desk. Alex scoffed; great, just what she needed, another Justin. Sitting in her seat. She hadn't recognized the girl as she walked over, but that wasn't unusual in the least; she didn't pay much attention to people unless they really caught her interest, and she wasn't the type to make it her job to know everyone in the school. "Tch." she scoffed and rolled her eyes. With a brother like hers, you almost couldn't blame her at her instant suspicion of people who were like him. She automatically assumed that they were snobby know-it-all smarty pants who would ridicule her while being ridiculous themselves, lecture her about right and wrong, and try and force her to learn while showing of f their immense wisdom. Ugh, it made her sick. She attempted to catch Harper's eye, which was difficult as she was one row ahead of her. "Dammit. I hope we don't have assigned seating. I don't wanna be stuck here for the whole year." she commented to no one in particular, though given her seated position the boy sitting next to her automatically assumed she was talking to him, and responded with bemused silence.




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

"SPEECH"

[sheldor the CONQUEROR]

blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah

"hahaha"
hahaha

[sheldor the CONQUEROR]

for the record, in panda x addy b&b rp

gareth: don't dare call me gary, garebear, or mr. d

Just looking around the office one could tell that it belonged to an important person. It was large and spacious, all in a very severe monochromatic color scheme--though obviously very expensive, the furnishings did not shout comfort but a rather reserved sort of elegance. It was carefully calculated to impress and frighten those that stepped through the door--which was a feat in itself. In order to make an appointment with the man that sat in the plush leather chair you had to not only make it past the front desk in the main lobby, but through various receptionists and finally his personal secretary; a no-nonsense woman with a cool exterior and little mercy. Most people avoided him unless they had to--despite his surly attitude and his tendency toward anger, he was a good boss, fair in his decisions and careful in his business moves. He was honest and did not make false promises to his workers. Everything was up front; you either took it or left. On the downside, he was slow to accept change and to alter his policies, and he expected 100% effort from all his employees. He put in as much work as everyone else, sometimes even more for he didn't believe in delegating tasks to his underlings--his business was too important to trust to anyone else. A placard of clear glass with suspended chrome letters read "GARETH DUNCAN, (**TITLE HURR**)" and all along the wall were certificates and diplomas from his prestigious schools and various awards from equally prestigious institutions. There was no hope-filled story behind his success, no rags-to-riches fairy tale of any sort. He was a hard man not from necessity but from his upbringing. His father had been a criminal defense attorney, working mostly for big corporations and whomever could afford him and his mother had been the CEO of one of the corporations his father had represented. Together they were a large part of his background; he had graduate degrees in law and business from Harvard and a large sum of inheritance from his parents, whose early deaths provided him with more than enough start up capital to open his own business, building it up into his own little empire. He had grown up in an environment full of money and knowledge, groomed by both parents in their areas of expertise, and if he wasn't showered with compliments and hugs and kisses, well at least he could say he was glad to not have been coddled by his parents. Indulged, certainly, in all his whims, which had lead early only to an unreasonable expectation that his every demands would be fulfilled if only he set his glower and a growl to his voice. He had grown up a bit since then, though he still expected his demands to be met if they were reasonable in the least.

The man himself was currently striding through the hallways, staring straight ahead with his perpetual scowl fixed upon his face. He could be called ruggedly handsome, but his features were too prone to a sourness that tended to spoil his looks unless you liked the type that fancied themselves above you. That didn't mean that many woman didn't pursue him; the mixture of his good looks, money and prestige did not escape them and there was something almost romantic in the idea of taking such a rough man and softening him beneath your touch that many women had attempted to tame his feral heart, though obviously none had succeeded. He had loved before, as far as he was able to at least, but that had been in his early years when he was still a young silly man. Now he knew that love made you weak; trust made you vulnerable to attack, and optimism made you fail for lack of predicting and avoiding future calamity. He ignored all the people dipping their heads in deferential greeting, falling short of a bow as they scattered before him. Everyone had seen what sort of anger he was capable of, what little things could set him off and just how loud he could snarl if provoked well enough, and they really didn't feel like incurring that kind of negative attention



Maurice; hasn't been working long, recently moved to the area and got a job, trips falls and knocks an important device over and it breaks; gareth says you owe me $10k and he's like ohshit i don't have that lyin around!! so duncan is like "ok you can just be my slave until you've paid it off; chauffeur, message runner, errand boy, personal assistant etc.

[sheldor the CONQUEROR]

SIRIUS BLACK

Sirius and Andy had enjoyed a very comfortable and entertaining (and undemanding) frenemy relationship for years now. Comfortable because as acquaintances they could mingle socially and as enemies she provided him a wealth of entertainment and a way to be friends with a girl while feeling safe in knowing that she didn't expect any more out of their relationship, so he didn't have any standards to live up to; no positive ones, at least. Unfortunately, he felt as though they were moving quickly away from that easy symbiotic relationship. In one way it was an exciting new development; the unattainable Andy Lockhart, overcome by Sirius Black's charms? Priceless. If they somehow still managed to maintain frenemy status there was no way he would ever let her live it down; on the downside, he didn't want another fangirl. He wanted someone who would say hello with a smile one moment and sock him in the eye the next; someone to keep him on his toes, someone who didn't really love him, someone who treated him differently than all the other girls.

As he stretched his hand up to brush aside his thick hair from his face, something firm and rectangular pressed into his chest. Frowning, he pulled aside the collar of his robe and felt into the breast pocket that was hidden on the inside and pulled out a small spiral notebook. He swore under his breath; he had meant to show her just how amazing he was by spelling it back into her bag so she would find it later and wonder just when he had done it and why; whether it was some ulterior motive or if he was simply feeling magnanimous. Turning it over in his hands, he sighed and whipped out his wand, muttering a spell over it so it vanished with a slow pop and a blink of light at the corner of his eyesight that somehow seemed to emanate from his palm where the sketchbook had been. When he blinked to dissipate the lingering light from his sight, the sketchbook was gone--as intended. It was, hopefully, sitting on her pillow in the girl's dorms right now.

frenemiiiiies.....it is moving dangerously away from that
realizes he still has her sketchbook
spells it to her room
wonders if she'll take it the wrong way--you never know how females that already think the worst of you will take things
hears girls gossiping?


"SPEECH"
THOUGHT

[sheldor the CONQUEROR]

When Justin heard the distant beep coming from the room next to his, he glanced up from the book he was reading and grinned, obviously satisfied with himself. He had changed his sister's alarm to wake her up earlier. She had offended him recently (though really it was hard to keep track anymore) and so he had retaliated by changing the alarm and charming it so that even if she turned it off, it would still beep. He snickered to himself as it stopped, only to begin again in five minutes. He heard a "pop" noise and a crash, and then there was no more beeping. Stifling a chuckle, he supposed she must have thrown it across the room to make it shut up. Well, it hadn't been a very intricate spell after all, and it was totally worth it. Not only had she been awoken and annoyed, but would have to somehow fix her alarm if it had gotten damaged in any way. Best of all, she couldn't pin it on him. Maybe it was just a malfunction! Perhaps she had accidentally set it wrong. She wasn't the smartest kid on the block, and when it came to technology that didn't involve movies or music, she didn't care to learn how to use it. He of course had been awake for almost half an hour now. He always woke up at 5 AM--to do some more studying before a test if he had one later that day, or just to read for pleasure if he had nothing he needed to get done. He was currently engrossed in the pages of some Greek mythology, a book that he had gotten after talking with his teacher for this year, Mr. Harris. He had discussed what he planned on going over in class the next year, and over the summer Justin had accumulated a few books on what was going to be part of the curriculum. He liked mythology, and Greco-Roman mythology was his favorite. The stories were interesting instead of being moral lectures or pedantic religious ramblings and strict rules, it was full of love, lust, drama, violence, and deceit and suffering. Not, of course, that he didn't enjoy reading those serious stories as well--it sufficiently broadened his horizons and his store of general knowledge. They just weren't nearly as exciting!

As he finished one story, he checked the clock sitting on his desk. He still had an hour and a half before he had to leave, and he was fairly sure that his siblings were not yet awake. His father was likely in the sub shop already, preparing everything for opening. Justin placed his bookmark into the pages to save his spot and closed the book, setting it carefully on his wide desk. Alex's and Max's desks might be used as extra shelving/general storage space, but he actually used it for what it was intended; homework, reading, and anything requiring an elevated work space. He was still dressed in his pajamas; nothing more satisfying than waking up before the sun rose, reading a book in the semi-darkness of your desk lamp, still in your warm pjs. He headed for the bathroom and took a five minute shower. After running some gel through his hair he returned to his room to change into a pair of nondescript blue jeans, a black button-down collared shirt, and a light blue tee over the shirt sporting an image from a Batman comic, done in the faux-vintage style. He rolled up the sleeves so they were just below his elbow and wove a black belt through the loops on his jeans, buckling it in place. He glanced at himself in the mirror as he walked out into the hallway, grinning to himself as he jumped down the stairs, traipsing into the kitchen to find some breakfast.

He opened the refrigerator and surveyed what was on the shelves before pulling out some eggs and bacon and preparing himself a hearty but low-fat and rounded meal of an omelet with plenty of vegetables, some bacon (cooked with pam and then patted dry with paper towels), some orange juice and milk. He sat down at the television and turned it on mute with subtitles so as not to awaken anyone else. He skipped channels until he got to the local news, and then tucked into his hearty breakfast as he prepared for the day ahead.
After breakfast he cleaned up his dishes and went to brush his teeth and pack his backpack. Half an hour later found him tripping down the steps through the sandwich shop. He leaned into the kitchen doorway and said goodbye to his dad before walking out to the bus stop on the main road. He was there ten minutes before the bus was scheduled to arrive; but then, he preferred being early. At least if he left early, anything that might go wrong would not make him too late. Just late enough to cut it close, but he had never missed a bus! Max soon joined him, just a few minutes before the bus came pulling into sight. He wasn't surprised to see that Alex had still not arrived; he hoped she wasn't going to miss the bus, especially on the first day of school! What a poor impression it would make on her teachers. Ahhh well, though, better she than he, anyway. He was just sitting down into his usual seat when she came rushing onto the bus as it began to move. She gave him a stifling look and continued on to the back of the bus to sit. He rolled his eyes and stared out the window. He didn't know how she coped with daily life, always forgetting or being late, always rushing about one minute, lazing about the next. He didn't know how she could deal with her academics the way they were. He was sure that any time he thought he had forgotten to do something, whether it was an entire assignment or merely one question on a homework (despite the fact that it was usually a fictitious worry), he always felt an impending sense of doom hovering over him, as if the teacher were about to slice his ears off and stuff them in his mouth. He wondered where that image had come from and frowned, shaking his head as if to dispel the image--it was a little disturbing and very bizarre, to say the least, but it did illustrate his point.

He leaned his head against the window and watched some of the other students present talking excitedly--not because they were going to school, he surmised, but at the thrill of being thrown together with people they did not see so often during summer as they did during the school year. It didn't escape his notice that no one tried to sit with him, even though seats were scarce and he had his backpack on his lap. It wasn't a new sensation, but unpleasant nonetheless. At least he knew that once he actually got to school he'd be able to see his friends. If he didn't have as extensive a friendship network as Alex; well, at least he was close with the friends he did have. What counted? Quantity or quality? Always a source of contention, he mused, and playing devil's advocate to himself he entertained his mind for the while it took to get to school. His never flagging excitement for the first day of school built up again as they pulled up in front of the large brick and cement block building. He wasn't even sure what it was; no, he wasn't excited about doing work. No one liked to work, really. Everyone wanted to relax and do what they did on their time off, even if it meant running around shopping or hanging out with friends--even workaholics would have to agree. He did like to learn, however, so sometimes it didn't really seem like work to him. Deadlines he could do without, and he really preferred having more time to do research papers than the usual week or so delegated to short essays teachers had you hand in, but this year he was in almost all AP courses; which meant year long research projects! He was more than excited to do some experiments of his own creation for chemistry, and he was enrolled in an extra university course for biology since he had already taken AP Bio last year and there was no higher course than that at his high school. Although his biology lecture was at 4 PM, he didn't have an empty slot in his high school course load. No, he was still taking the full range of classes; math, science, art, history, language, literature, and unfortunately....gym. To think, another class period that could be dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge taken up by something as pedestrian as gym class--it was an outrage on behalf of all non-athletics all over the world. Were they trying to insinuate something? He was, of course, not fat. Perhaps he could not hold his own at a wrestling match, but he was not fat! So why would they force him to take gym yet again? To humiliate him? To anger him? It was something that bothered him every year, but he was currently resigned to it. Luckily it was his last class, so he didn't have to take a shower in the school bathrooms (talk about disease ridden fungal incubators) nor did he have to go through the rest of his classes smelling of sweat and shame.

While at his locker, unloading all the new books and notebooks from his heavy backpack, he stared around at all the people milling about. The noise level was incredible; certainly there was always a buzz of activity and chatter especially at the beginning and end of the day, but this was certainly the pinnacle of it all. Well, he amended, except for the last day of school. Everyone looked so well dressed today; so put together and coiffed. He supposed that's how first days were. You wanted to start the year off with a good impression; make a preemptive strike at erasing any prejudices that might arise from people's first impressions of you as unfashionable or 'gross'. He stared down at his own clothing; new, of course (his mother loved back to school shopping) but nothing out of the ordinary. He preferred the college-prep look, and it showed in his wardrobe and a little in his choice of clothing for today. He had a collection of neat little graphic tshirts in addition to the vast array of collared shirts and sweater vests, his favorite outfit. Certainly there was plenty of variation in his clothing, but hist tastes did tend to run toward a little less glamor and more professional. He didn't go so far as to wear ties (most of the time) or dress pants, but he liked to look presentable. If he needed to make a good impression on someone important, at least he was always ready to. Even what he was wearing today could be considered geek-chic. It was rather popular right now. He received all his fashion advice from his friends Leslie and Dan. Dan was his close friend and colleague, and Leslie had been the girl that seemed ill-placed in their group of friends. Just went to show that you can't stereotype people! Beautiful and brilliant, she was the fashionable and popular blonde ex-cheerleader that was also in the science club and in many advanced classes.

She and Dan had recently started a new relationship, and it made Justin wonder; was there something so wrong with him that he couldn't acquire and maintain one single relationship with another female? At first he thought maybe a normal human female would present too many problems with his being a wizard and all--secrets never do a relationship well. Even if he found someone compatible with him, how could he know he could completely trust her to keep the secret? If anything went wrong in their relationship, what would keep her from revealing his suspicious behavior to everyone? So, as resolution, he attempted to find someone from the wizarding world. That had been a COMPLETE disaster, he didn't even want to think about it. Certainly he had gone on dates; but there was never really any follow up. Every time there was something wrong with their relationship; either she turned him into a werewolf, she turned out to be of a different species, or just plain evil and out to dominate the human race. He didn't know how Alex and Max managed it; they both had a boyfriend or girlfriend (respectively) that didn't know about their secret, and someone to confide in. Alex had Harper, who knew, and what did Justin have? No one. He didn't even feel as though he could tell Dan; if Dan knew, what right did Justin have in making him keep a secret from Leslie or their other friends? No, although it was sometimes miserable to not be able to tell anyone about that secret part of his life, he preferred it to any of the horrible things that could result from him telling. At least Alex knew that Harper didn't have anyone she would go tell, since they were each others best friend. With that disheartening thought he trudged to his first class. Some mythology; that would cheer him up! He seemed unusually preoccupied before class, and was surprised to hear the bell that signaled the beginning of it. He glanced around; the seats were mostly filled, and he sat up straight and prepared himself for the class to begin.

---

Justin glanced up to see a face he didn't recognize enter the room, late. Normally this would be frowned upon, but he had a feeling the student was new here. Why else would you be this late to class? He flashed a smile as the newcomer sat down beside him, and Mr. Harris announced them as partners for the highly anticipated Greek Gods & Goddesses project that Justin had been looking forward to. He returned Logan's smile as the young man introduced himself, and Justin offered out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Logan. Are you new?" He asked with a quirk of his brow. He was rather amazed to see the quick change in Logan's demeanor; he had gone from confident and cheerful to shocked and then dejected and dispirited. He frowned slightly. "You haven't any preference at all?" Justin asked incredulously. "C'mon. There has to be a favorite, you seem like you know about mythology already or you wouldn't have said it would be 'an ace in the hole', right?" He glanced back down at the list. "I dunno who to pick. They are all so interesting....of course, its not a completely comprehensive list, which is really too bad. I just read a story this morning about some rather entertaining minor deities...." he trailed off, staring intently at the list and seriously weighing the pros and cons of each god or goddess.

"hahaha"
hahaha

[sheldor the CONQUEROR]

matt bickford
..........is a bit of a slut
..........but at least he's honest
..........sarcastic
..........condescending
..........likes to tease people
..........good student
..........pretentious
..........outgoing
..........has a lot of awesome stories.


"SPEECH"
"Holy s**t!" was his first thought as he rolled over, startled out of his deep drunken sleep by the unholy screeching beep of his alarm. It only waited for a few seconds before it started beeping rapid fire. It was just asking to be thrown across the room, or taken to with a hammer. He quickly flipped the switch to turn it off, and his hand lingered a moment as he very seriously contemplated smashing it to bits and going back to sleep. Reluctantly, he removed his hand to slap it to his face, rubbing his eyes with both hands and stretching his face a bit as he fought to wake himself from the lingering fog of slumber. He sat for about five minutes as he assessed his situation. It was Friday; thank god. Last night had been a bit rough, but what else did you expect from Thirsty Thursdays? He had a pounding headache--a good sign that he hadn't drank water like he had promised himself he would have. Awesome. Even worse, he had a feeling he might still be slightly drunk. He wasn't wearing his clothes from last night, but he had been lying mostly crosswise on his bed , his sheets halfheartedly thrown over his body in a confused tangle. He was wearing his boxers and an undershirt, and all he could smell was the stale whiff of alcohol and cigarettes and the lingering scent of a woman's perfume. Actually, he wasn't sure if he dreamed having a girl over the night or not; that was one of the good (and sometimes, perhaps unfortunate) things about having a single room in a dorm; no roommate to answer to. Although he supposed that the girl could have woken up earlier and left or something, he knew he'd probably never find out. Great.

Getting plastered was only nice while you were drunk. It never seemed like a good idea in retrospect, and every time he vowed it wouldn't happen again. You just can't trust a drunk person to keep to their promises, even if its to themselves. As he sat, attempting to acclimate to this altered sense of consciousness, he grumbled to himself. Today was not going to be a good day, he could already tell. The way that the edges of his vision seemed to be a bit fuzzy, he could feel his head pounding relentlessly like the sound of a steady drum beating out the sound of his physical and mental discomfort. In beat to the internal rhythm he got up and nearly hit his head into the wall of the tiny single occupancy dorm room. Matt could tell that it was not going to be a good day for anyone else either; he was already in such a bad mood, casting a death glare about his room wishing that he could bring all the inanimate objects into a state of sentience so that they could feel the agonizing destruction he would inflict upon them with his killing glance. Every voice he heard drifting in through the thin walls of the dorm rooms he automatically wished a slow and torturous death upon the voice's owner, hoping desperately that something terrible would happen to them. He wasn't usually so misanthropic, but the violence of his emotion this morning was derived from the violence of his own suffering. Naturally, he wanted everyone else to feel and be miserable if he was. There could be no happiness in the world unless he could find it. Unfortunately, it did seem as though everyone was going to attempt to persevere in their endeavors to be cheerful, and it made him hate them even more.

He trudged to the shower in nothing but his boxer shorts and sandals, glowering down at the sandals as they smacked against his bare feet; there was nothing worse than that sound, especially now amplified a hundred-fold in his narrowed focus. In the shower, he cursed the water for being too hot. When he got dressed he threw his belt across the room and nearly hit the window after deciding he was indeed still drunk, having fallen over and smacking his elbow on his desk while trying to get into his pants. He trudged to class, grumbling all the way and ignoring everyone that said hello to him, staring straight ahead at nothing. He wondered briefly what it would be like to have the power to blow things up with his mind, and mollified his destructive mood by imagining all the rubble and gore. Any sane person would, having woken up in such a state, said '******** it' and gone back to bed. Unfortunately (for everyone) Matt was a good enough student that he disliked skipping class--especially if the desire was routed in something that was, essentially, his own fault. No one had forced him to drink, and so he had no valid reason to skip. He was in class earlier than usual; in his own little world he hadn't taken the time to stroll about and enjoy the weather as he usually did (rain sleet or shine)--and now he had an extra ten minutes to wait as compared to usual. With a sigh he flopped into a desk and slumped down, eyes closing as he lapsed into a vague nap.

It seemed like a few seconds after he shut his eyes he heard the door open, and he opened them, pretending that he hadn't slept at all. He checked his watch; it really had only been a few minutes. Drats. He had been hoping for at least a solid ten minutes or so, but he supposed he'd just have to go back and sleep after class. He had a little over half an hour, anyway. Powernap time. He felt like he was in a dangerous position; head pounding, mental capacity impaired by the lingering effects of the alcohol still coursing through his system; the lack of healthy sleep and the poor disposition all adding up to a ticking bomb. He didn't want to embarrass himself in front of everyone. He was generally well known for being a congenial if quirky guy, and he didn't want to have to explain himself. So he buckled up his mind and forced a mild grin onto his face.

He saw Dani walk in and groaned. If there was anyone that could provoke him in his current state, it was her. Although he was usually the one provoking her into a frenzy, it wasn't as if she never pissed him off. She often did, but he took some odd pleasure in fighting with her. With most girls his only interaction was when he was seducing them, otherwise he didn't really bother to make friends with them. Dani was a friend, even if it was out of animosity at least he liked being around her.

regular ol' intro post stuff:
wakes up hung over and in a worse mood than usual
gets ready
goes to class
is there early watching a movie on his laptop or something
sees dani come in
doesn't feel in the mood to talk to her at all, though usually its quite the opposite on his side
she sneezes behind him, he shoots her a glare and a nasty little quip

[sheldor the CONQUEROR]

posts
matt bickford -- ▐▐▐▐▐▐▐▐▐▐

gareth duncan -- ▐▐▐▐▐▐▐▐▐▐

sirius black -- ▐▐▐▐▐▐▐▐▐▐