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 Posted: Mon Apr 21, 2008 5:38 pm
The students arrived three days before the start of term, which meant there was plenty of time to explore campus and get to know your roommate ( or make peace with them depending on your situation ) before classes resumed. Salem could understand the logic for this, a new place can be overwhelming if you're not prepared for it, but he didn't share in his classmates anxiety. He didn't scare easily, not under normal circumstances anyway, and he was afraid of new things least of all.
Apart from the essentials - cafeteria, the student quad, and the communal showers on various floors of Chaislyn Hall - Salem had spent his three days getting better acquainted with the student body. And in his case, the term was used quite literally. Besides to sleep, he hadn't spent ten minutes inside his dorm room since the day he arrived. It was better this way though, Will hadn't said a word to him since and once he finally got his body back, Salem wasn't feeling so sympathetic anymore. Why make up for something that wasn't so terrible in the first place? What he did with his life was his own business and if Will wasn't comfortable with that well... Too bad for him.
The first day of school dawned bright and warm - another fine September morning. It was hard to block out the light streaming in through the window, sometimes morning was so hard to ignore, but that's not saying Salem didn't try. He grumbled softly as he rolled over, throwing one of his arms over his eyes. It wasn't very effective, but Salem could feel the gentle fuzziness of sleep creeping back in on him after only a few minutes. He sighed; this was nice. Unfortunately, nice things are easily broken.
Just as Salem was about to fall back into a peacefully deep sleep, his alarm went off. He could have sworn that when the radio, loud and violent, suddenly turned on, shattering the silence of room 614, the sound almost stopped his heart. Salem sat bolt upright in bed, all further thought of sleep gone.
"Damnit," he muttered darkly as he looked over his shoulder at the shelf that hung over his bed, "I forgot I set that thing." Emerald eyes bleary with sleep stared up at the digital alarm clock. Seven o'clock was written in red across it's face.
[[First day of school people! It's not much of a post, not by my usual standards of course, but hopefully it'll get us going. Post when you can and have fun!]]
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Posted: Thu Apr 24, 2008 7:13 pm
((I'll wait to post for Pluto until I know that Vincent is active.... maybe. Depends on if I see a chance for Pluto to get some good interaction or not. *shrug*))
Mornings were always colder, darker than the rest of the day. And they were quieter as well. In short, morning was a much more peaceful time of day. It was no surprise, therefor, that William Moore had become a bit of a morning person. He rose and slept early every day, always making sure to maintain the best balance of sleeping patterns that he could. After all, his body was already weak enough; it wouldn't do any good to further hurt himself by losing sleep. Normally, Will went to bed between eight and nine in the evening and was up again between four and five in the morning. He had set himself to this schedule for many years and it was now no more difficult than breathing -- under normal circumstances, of course, as Will's attacks made it quite difficult to breathe. Now, after all the accumulated years of this same waking and sleeping time, his body had become naturally trained to follow the schedule. He didn't even need an alarm clock, which was fortunate because Will was sure that his roommate would be nowhere near happy if he had to wake up a full three hours earlier than he was used to.
Will was a methodical boy. He liked schedules and boundaries and plans. He hated uncertainty and unclarity above almost anything else. Even after the move from England, he hadn't allowed his natural structure to expire. After waking, he followed his same schedule that he had introduced upo himself years ago.
His first task was journaling. He started with his health condition. Fortunately, he hadn't had any attacks in the past few days so he wrote a simple "healthy" next to the date and time he had logged into his small, weather-beaten, black journal. The journal was terribly bedraggled, though it was evidently well taken care of. Being poor, Will couldn't afford much very often. What he did buy was at least second- or third-hand, if not worse. Often, the journals he received had already been marked in. When that happened, he would gingerly tear out any used page, taking painstaking care not to harm the journal or accidentally lose the pages bound to the ones he ripped out. But Will had one other guard against his shortage of notebooks to write in: his hand writing. In order to conserve space, his handwriting had steadily condensed until it had become positively minute, and yet, at the same time, immaculately neat. After logging in his health condition, Will would continue to write down any dreams he had had over the night or any thoughts he had while waking. After that was accomplished, he would tuck the book neatly away with the rest of his essentials that would be carried with him all through school. Throughout the rest of the day Will would log more things into his book, each note coupled with the time it was logged in. If he had a sudden epiphany or thought, in it went; if someone said something he liked or hated, in it went; if he read or heard something particularly thought-provoking, in it went. It was like this that Will kept meticulous notes of his life. For Will, his many journals were his most prized possessions. Inside them were all his thoughts and feelings, everything that consciously bothered or provoked or inspired him. They were veritable oceans of knowledge into the very pits of Will's soul.
After journaling it was time for meditation -- forty-five minutes daily spent in peace during the silence of the morning. Though Will was by no means a spiritual boy, he found that this exercise helped to calm him. He had only started the meditation about three years ago but had found that it had incredibly positive effects on his health. Will was sure that the calmness that meditation spread through his body had helped subdue his attacks, which had likely saved his life.
Next it was time to finish any unfinished assignments from the day before. If he had school work that had carried over or something he had wanted to accomplish but hadn't, this was the time for him to complete it if he was at all capable. This morning, it was a drawing. It had started as an incredibly vague sketch on a loose sheaf of paper but had quickly turned into a serious drawing. The subject wasn't anything too riveting: it was simply a minute, clear crystal vase with gentle, elegant curves that had been filled about three fourths the way up. And yet, despite this, the detail and accuracy that Will had managed to render with a simple number two pencil was astounding; it looked as if the glass had been condensed into two dimensions and then made into black and white; in fact, it was more like a photograph than a drawing.
By the time he had finally finished the drawing, it was six forty. At this time, Will deemed it time to bathe. He simply couldn't face the day feeling dirty with yesterday's grime. Besides, the bathrooms here were an incredible luxury. Will had always had to share bathrooms with many more companions and, besides, the state residential school's bathrooms had been nothing to brag about. Now, however, the bathroom was simply astounding in comparison. Blackthorn really did live up to its name -- the shower was like a gift from the gods.
By seven, he was out of the shower and at least mostly dry. He had pulled his clean clothing into the bathroom with him before getting dressed ever since that embarrassing first meeting with Salem. When Will exited the bathroom, he was fully dressed and slightly steaming from his shower. His usually baggy clothing was absent, now replaced by the smoothly-ironed, school-provided uniform. His dark hair, turned black by the water, was still quite damp and was currently slicked down against his neck. Without his usual mess of dark chocolaty hair to obscure his features, the pale fine, pale contours of his face had become blatantly obvious. His eyes, too, had been unveiled for he still had yet to put his glasses on.
The moment Will stepped out into the room, the alarm clock blared out a shrill seven in the morning. Salem's stirring finally caught Will's attention and he quickly whipped his glasses off his bedside table and onto his eyes to contain bottle-green orbs. He glanced over towards the other for a moment, pale hands raising slightly nervously to tug at the end of his water-slicked hair. But he soon turned back to what he was doing, which was organizing his possessions for the first day of school. "M-morning..." he stammered a little hesitantly. Will didn't say much and had terrible empathy as to how his actions affected others, but he could at least say "good morning."
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Posted: Thu Apr 24, 2008 7:38 pm
Ryo's eyes burst open as a loud buzz erupted in his ear.
"Holy!!"
he yelled and threw his alarm clock against the wall, causing the batteries to fall out. The clock itself, though, stayed miraculously in tact.
He looked over at the sleeping boy in the bed next to him and frowned. he and Emery weren't exactly on speaking terms since the incident three days ago. It wasn't that Ryo was mad at Emery! he didn't think he could ever be mad at the cute 14-year-old sleeping soundly across from him. he was just sore as to why Emery had run.
Ryo stetched his aching muscles and yawned.
"First day of school.....whoopdie freaking do"
he rolled his eyes in annoyance and went to the bathroom to take a shower. he assumed the other would be sleeping for some time now.
The hot water burned his skin to the point of turning it red, but ryo didn't turn the heat down, he needed to hurt a little this morning. It was the only way he knew he would wake up enough to start his classes.
"Dammit"
He whispered as he became dizzy from the heat, immedietally turning the shower off and grabing a towel to hide his naked form.
He walked out and sat on his bed, his hair and body still glistening with small beads of water trailing down onto the towel and bed he was resting on.
"God I hope Emery doesn't wake up till I'm dressed. Things are already akward enough between us as it is."
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Posted: Thu Apr 24, 2008 9:51 pm
[[I'm back! biggrin Anyway, uhm.... Yun-Ha's powers are a little weird and I've kind of mentally revised them a little so I may ask Minty or Sable to edit it for me... but... they'll be explained later. >>;;; Also, test between "<>" are in a different language.]]
It was a bright and fresh morning. Birds were chirping, the sun was shining... and Yun-Ha Lee lay fast asleep on his bed. The little Korean boy was laying on his stomach, scrawny pale arms thrust under his pillow, head tilted to one side. His chest rose and fell slowly with the movement of nearly silent breathing. His lips, which were hinted with a light rosy red, were left slightly ajar, soft pink walls parted to allow the passage of his warm breath. On the bedside beside him rested his new cellphone, which he had purchased only just a few days before. Next to the phone sat Yun-Ha's chiming alarm clock, which was currently emitting a low chiming noise. It wasn't at all loud yet, but it was very nearly right next to the boy's head so he should have been able to hear it. Unfortunately, Yun-Ha was a heavy sleeper. It seemed that no matter how early he went to bed, he always overslept. He could sleep through entire days and had, in fact, done so on several occasions. As time progressed, the chime increased in its volume until it was about as loud as the raucous screech of a parrot. Now that should have been able to wake just about anybody, but unfortunately Yun-Ha remained asleep.
A minute later, the sudden ring of Yun-Ha's phone joined the mind-jarring alarm. Black eyes opened immediately and blinked slowly, the dark orbs clouded slightly with sleepy confusion. A small frown formed on Yun-Ha's lips as his eyes finally found the two sources of incessant annoyance. Scowling, Yun-Ha lifted his hand, only to slam it down upon the "off" button on his alarm. However, his movement was a little too strong. The hit had sent the alarm clock scattering off the table and onto the floor with a loud, clattering thud. That had Yun-Ha awake, though not entirely. The boy sat up slowly and inspected the clock. Fortunately, it was used to such treatment and had not received any real damage. Yun-Ha picked it up slowly and set it back onto the table.
It was then that his eyes fell back onto his phone. Groaning slightly, Yun-Ha sat up and reached out for his cellular. He opened the clamshell and held it up to his ear.
"H'llo.....?" he mumbled, voice groggy and thick with sleep. The voice on the other end was exactly the opposite. It was loud and full of zealous cheer. "Yunie! " It was a girl, one of Yun-Ha's sisters. The boy made a sound of general assent as the girl jabbered on to him in Korean. After a few minutes, Yun-Ha's eyes strayed over towards the alarm clock that he had previously treated so mercilessly. Black eyes widened and he gaped. "Geh!" he exclaimed. "" With that, he hung up, setting his phone back onto the table. One of his pale, creamy hands raised to push back ebony locks from his eyes. Yun-Ha's hair was a mess -- it always was in the morning. The boy suffered from extreme bed head, though it only ever made him look cute.
Slowly, the boy stood up and stretched, back popping slightly. A moment later, he was into the shower. Five minutes later, he resurfaced outside wearing a fresh pair of boxers, his dirty laundry held loosely in one hand. He set his worn clothing into the dirty clothes hamper in the closet and then proceeded to pick out his clothes for the day and dress.
[[I'm leaving this a little open because I don't know if Ollie's up or what......>>;;]]
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Posted: Sun May 04, 2008 3:46 am
What time did class start again? Salem was too tired to remember anything besides that he needed a shower; he hadn’t gone to bed until well after midnight, the girls on fourth floor had been too pretty to leave behind. It was a relatively harmless evening, just a little sweet talk and some light flirting – innocent compared to how Salem normally behaved. Whenever he saw someone who appealed to him, Salem was determined to get some kind of gratification out of them, sexual or otherwise, but the incident with Pluto had made him cautious. He couldn’t risk another fiasco like that. He wouldn’t let himself.
“M-morning…”
Salem turned back around, squinting slightly in the light from the window; the small silhouette was unmistakable. He didn’t know his roommate at all, but he could tell Will was uneasy. It must have taken a lot of nerve to speak to him after so long. Maybe there was hope for this boy after all.
“So, you’re talking to me again?” Salem dropped his eyes as he spoke and climbed out of bed. The tiled floor felt cool against his bare feet, it was all he could do not to shiver as he got up. Of course, it didn’t help that he had a bad habit of doubling his boxers as pajamas.
“What changed your mind?” But Salem wasn’t very interested in Will’s answer. He walked past the boy and into the bathroom. It was still warm; Will must have just finished taking a shower. Although he was in dire need of it, or maybe he was just under the delusion that he badly needed one, Salem’s shower was very brief, less than ten minutes. He was still under Saint Patrick’s routine; it wasn’t every day that you were allowed to clean the dirt off your body, so when the instructors marched you off to the showers you couldn’t waste any time getting the job done as thoroughly as you could before they turned off the water.
Will may have been shy and uncomfortable with his body, but Salem definitely was not. He wrapped a towel loosely around his waist before opening the bathroom door, toothbrush clenched between his teeth and a second covering his wet head of hair. It was drastically colder in the dorm room; Salem could feel his skin immediately erupt in Goosebumps.
He made a B-line for the dresser on his side of the room. Their school uniforms had arrived sometime the day before, Salem noticed the vacuum sealed packaged sitting on top of his dresser when he got home last night, but had been too tired to really take a good look at them. It only took him a moment to realize that these uniforms were as far from his style as they could possibly get. The only thing he liked about them was the colours: a varying combination of black and white with a blood red tie for each. Salem quickly picked up the black one and tossed it on his bed – although he was pretty sure his darker complexion wouldn’t be compromised by a white suit, the other one was just too tacky for his tastes.
A nice black leather case had arrived yesterday as well. Salem could only assume it was what rich kids used in place of regular backpacks for the inside was perfectly equipped to hold everything a student needed to get through their day, but he wasn’t very fond of it. Compared to large, roomy backpack, this little handbag just didn’t suit his needs. Salem always carried one or two extra pairs of clothes, both male and female, in the bottom of backpack and just because he had changed schools didn’t mean he was going to change his routine.
“What time does class start?” he asked before sticking the toothbrush back inside his mouth and rigorously drying his hair with the towel draped over his head.
[[Note: Classes start at 8:30 btw, but you can't expect someone like Salem to remember such a frivolous detail. Responsibility is for people who are more down-to-earth. Oh! And if you're wondering what the mandatory school uniforms look like go to page one. I posted pictures there a while ago.]]
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Posted: Thu May 08, 2008 1:14 am
[ello don't mean to clutter this thread or anything. but am i able to join this thread still and if so sin care to fill me in on basic plot thus far?]
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Posted: Sat May 17, 2008 3:10 pm
((Alright, edited the bit about Will's clothes on my other post so he's now wearing the uniform....))
Will shifted slightly nervously from one foot to the other. He wasn't usually one to fidget, but the other's eyes were much too keen. Even blurred by sleep as they were, there was something inherently intense about the other's emerald gaze. Then again, there was something unmistakably intense about Will's own eyes, but he had never really looked at himself long enough to realize it. After all, Will had never been one to think about his looks very much. In fact, he was exactly the opposite -- he tried to look as unappealing as possible without sacrificing any personal hygiene. It was something like the way the Monarch coated its wings with poison -- just a way to keep predators at bay.
"I--" Will began, feeling slightly abashed at the other's words. He didn't usually feel the need to answer such questions -- after all, Salem wasn't explicitly asking for an answer and it was probably meant to be rhetorical, anyway -- but Will knew, much as he might dislike the idea, that he would be rooming with the brunette for at least the rest of the year so he'd might as well try to make it livable. Not that Will couldn't live with not talking to his room mate -- that he would welcome openly. No, what Will was afraid of was being bullied in some form or another. Not that Salem looked the type to do such things, but one could never be sure; it was best to remain cautious. Will raised a hand slowly, pale fingers pushing his slipping glasses back up the bridge of his nose, the perfectly starched-clean cuffs of his uniform so different from his usual gray elephant skin-esque sweater. Will, not caring for fashion or much of anything else, had quickly donned the black uniform with nothing more behind his decision than the fact that the black would be at least slightly warmer than the white. Will was always cold -- always. It didn't matter that the black of the uniform made his skin look even paler, made the elegant curves of his cheek bones and neck look slightly hollow.
"I--" he began again, nervously, though now in response to a different question. "I just... don't want to.... didn't... I mean I don't much like talking but I don't want to be.... rude," he replied at last, stumbling clumsily over his words like a blind elephant over trip wire. For all that Will was intelligent, he was terrible at reaching out to people. But Salem didn't much seem to care for his answer. What with the brisk way that the teen swept passed him and into the bathroom, it didn't appear that Salem had any more desire to talk with Will than did Will with him. But he had to at least try which, now, he had done. At least he would be able to say that he had tried.
Several minutes later found Salem bursting back through the bathroom doors, managing to look both steamingly attractive and harried at the same time. Not that Will noticed. What he did notice, however, was how decidedly unclad the other male's top half was. Will quickly averted his eyes; maybe Salem was comfortable with this, but for Will it was a breach of privacy. Will glanced up at the other spoke, trying his best to maintain eye contact instead of disengaging, which was both his usual tendency as well as his current desire. The other's dripping chest was a little too much to ignore, though Will really wasn't interested in such things (or so he told himself).
"Eight-thirty," he answered, voice slightly detached. There was a faint hint of pink in his cheeks, but nothing overly noticeable. By this time, Will had moved over beside his bag, quickly unpacking his usual, decaying rucksack and placing the contents into his knew, shiny student bag. It was... nice to have knew things. Will couldn't remember the last time he had gotten something that hadn't seen at least two previous owners. "But I think the cafeteria closes a little before that -- you know, to cut off stragglers....." That was better. His words were coming more naturally; they sounded much less awkward than before. Will felt a wave of relief wash through himself as he stood up. His glasses slipped and nearly fell, but he caught them deftly -- much more deftly than what a boy of his stature was usually capable of in terms of coordination -- and placed them back upon his nose. One of the good things about his mutation was that, despite how small and sickly his frame was, his muscles and bones were surprisingly quick as strong. It was almost as if his body's pieces had been compressed to retain the greatest amount of strength in the smallest amount of space.
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Posted: Tue May 20, 2008 5:58 am
Oliver sighed as he glanced up at the alarm clock sitting on his desk: quarter to seven. The school year has just begun and already his body was on its schedule. All that time wasted… He really should have been lazy like a normal teenager during the summer, at least then he might not feel like an idiot for not using those two months of holiday to catch up on his sleep.
Sitting up, a slight frown on his lips, Oliver got to his feet. It was a good thing he preferred to take his showers at the end of the day; he could already hear the water running so Yun must already be in the bathroom. Oliver too his time getting dressed, despite the fact that he woke up without the help of his alarm clock, he wasn’t much of a morning person; it took a little time to jump start his batteries.
Just like every morning Oliver picked the black uniform hanging in his closet. There was nothing wrong with the white one, he even owned it, but he never wore it unless the school demanded it for a special occasion or ceremony. Oliver wasn’t a slave to fashion, but he did know what colours he could pull off and white wasn’t one of them.
Yun had emerged from the bathroom by the time he had finished getting dressed. Oliver nodded at him, his subtle way of acknowledging the boy’s presence; talking wasn’t usually part of his morning routine, but maybe he was just accustom to Diego, his soccer-loving former roommate. That boy usually did enough talking for the both of them. Unfortunately Yun-Ha wasn’t Diego, a fact he would do well to remember, and he shouldn’t expect things to be the same as before.
“So are you excited about your first day of school?” Oliver asked over his shoulder as he fixed his tie more comfortable around his neck. “I mean,” he added once he realized how pointless his question actually was; school is school no matter where you are so what was there to be excited about? “I mean, I know it’s just the same boring stuff as last year, but Blackthorn’s a new place. That’s gotta be worth something, right?”
Angel woke bright and early on the first day of school; she had been too excited to stay in bed any longer. It was unreasonable to speak for everyone else in the project –after she learned that she was, in fact, rooming with another mutant she couldn’t be blind to the possibility that there were more subjects than just Jamie and herself - but she was really looking forward to class. Doing math homework and writing essays reminded her of the life she had six months ago.
Angel spent quite a long time in the bathroom, fussing over her reflection in the mirror. She wasn’t usually so vain, most of the time she was too modest for that, but she wanted to make a good first impression. This was her fresh start and she wanted to do it right. The majority of that time was spent trying to brush that ripple out of her short blonde hair, but without any hair-care products it was proving to be more difficult than she imagined; with only the aid of a wet brush on her side she eventually had to give up the fight.
The uniforms arrived the day before and all it took was a quick glance to know which one she wanted to wear today; choosing the white version was the easiest decision she had to make lately. The ribbon was perhaps her favourite part. It looked really cute when she tied it around her neck - almost like a bow, but in the front.
It was only ten after seven by the time she felt she was satisfied with her appearance, but she grabbed her school bag off the bed anyway and headed for the door; if she stayed here any longer she knew she would start bouncing off the walls of her bedroom. Chaislyn Hall was livelier than it had been since she arrived but that might have been because it was so early in the morning. As she made her way downstairs to the ground level she noticed that most of the other students were still in their pajamas, fresh from their beds. Angel was starting to feel a little over dressed until she crossed paths a handful of students in uniform.
The cafeteria was just as busy as the dormitory when she arrived. There was already a line-up of sleepy and hungry students’ inside with plastic trays in their hands. Angel joined the cue. She had never had a flare for cafeteria food before she came to Blackthorn, mainly because all of the cafeterias she had ever been to serve fast food that had been defrosted in the microwave for a few minutes before it reached your paper plate, or at least that’s what it tasted like, but this cafeteria was different. All of food here was cooked with fresh ingredients by professionals - not the old ladies in hair nets posing as professionals, but real chefs, big puffy hats and everything. It was like eating out at a five star restaurant three times a day.
Maybe the best thing about this cafeteria was that, unlike restaurants, these chefs were fast. Angel was in and out in less than ten minutes flat with a plate of pancakes, a side of bacon, a muffin and a bottle of orange juice; it was amazing she was as small as she was with her appetite. The sitting area reminded her of an elegant restaurant as well; the large room was definitely designed with the wealthy in mind from the tall arched windows and crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling right down to the red carpeting and earth-toned walls. Perhaps the only thing that distinguished it from a world-class dining hall was the long cafeteria standard tables dividing the room, but even they were covered in expensive white linen; Angel shuddered to think what kind of dry cleaning bill the school received every week.
It was funny how some things never seemed to change. Angel wasn’t the very popular when she was in public school and even less so by the girls at Northwood. So, it was only natural that she would feel a little bit nervous when she approached her usual seat only to find that a group of talkative girls in pajamas had taken control of the center of the long table. She paused for a moment, lightly biting her lip as she contemplated her options. Angel wasn’t necessarily afraid of people. She was fine in small groups like with her roommate, or roommates in this case, but after her time in Northwood, as puny as it was, she discovered that it didn’t matter how happy and kind and friendly you were to people because they might not return those feelings so willingly.
That thought in mind, Angel took the closest available seat with the littlest amount of people near it. She took her time with her meal and savoured every bite, but it still didn’t take over an hour to clean her plate. Taking a sip of her orange juice, Angel set her school bag on the table. If she couldn’t pass the time by eating, then she definitely could pass it by reading. She loved books and if it wasn’t for the IMDA she would undoubtedly have her collection with her here. Oh well. At least Blackthorn’s extensive library let students take them out for a few days. A romantic classic, Twilight by Stephanie Meyer, was her current obsession. It was nice to know that romance hadn’t died with the twentieth century.
“I thought I packed it…” Angel mumbled to herself as she began to empty her bag. She had been quite sure she packed it last night. The book wasn’t exactly small so it was impossible for it to hide in such a small bag. Much to her dismay, however, the only thing she found was a small white envelope, definitely something she didn’t remember seeing yesterday.There was a fold piece of card inside, tied with a red ribbon, and there was something printed on the center. It was too short to be a letter, especially one that deserved to be gift wrapped like this. No, it was more like a message you would read on the bulletin board, short and straight to the point. Angel’s blue eyes quickly swept over the surface of the paper.Quote: The first meeting of Do-It-All Club will be held today at 4:00 pm in room 100. This is a mandatory meeting for all members. Everyone is to be discreet, come alone and be on time. Failure to meet these requirements will be greeted with unfortunate consequences.
M. Wong
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Posted: Tue May 20, 2008 3:26 pm
It was the first day of school -- one of many first days of school. For many it would be a cause for excitement, a cause for jubilation or regret and general irritation. For Whitney, it was simply the beginning of another day. True, school time was slightly different from the long summers she spent in the air conditioned recesses of her summer home, but the essentials had all been there: unwanted visitors who prattled on saying the most useless and vain and controlling things, tutors who came every day to insure that she was still ahead of everyone in her class when she so obviously didn't need to be after having already skipped a grade, and the rumbling, resting uneasiness of fulfilling everybody's expectations apart from her own. Though many might have died to have her life, Whitney wanted nothing more than to be away from it; however, she was too timid and fearful to ever break the status quo or disappoint the all too numerous people who enjoyed grinding her nose into the dirt (at least figuratively).
A small sigh escaped perfect, rosy lips as the young beauty finished tying the little red ribbon at her throat. She had hardly even glanced into the large mirror before herself as she had dressed; she knew too well what she would see to bother even pretending that the vanity expected of her status was at all contained within her being. She finished her dressing and turned away from the bathroom, pale fingers patting down her neatly ironed skirt. As per usual, Whitney had chosen the black uniform; fashion statements aside, it was the only sign she would give that she grieved the loss of her father. Not that he was dead or anything -- he had just moved off to spend some time in his resort home in Jamaica, where he was probably meeting some of his mistresses or something. Well, even if he was physically alive, he was still dead -- dead to her. It had been right of her mother to get the divorce; Whitney's untimely visit to her father's bed chambers only months before to find something she most definitely had not wanted to see was all the reason her mother had needed to file the papers and be done with the man. A small frown marred the young girl's lips, her brows crinkling together slightly over a pair of large, glimmering emerald eyes.
Of all Whitney's features, her eyes were her favorite. Pretty as she was, she had never really thought of herself as such; after all, beauty (whether natural, bought or made) was not rare wherever there was money. Unfortunately, this self-evaluation left her clueless to the opinions of others about her appearance. Whitney was a relatively short girl -- petite, as some might put it -- and was unmistakably soft and refined. Her lusciously chocolate hair felt perfectly straight and gleaming all the way down to her waist, though it was currently (and nearly always) twisted into a braid over her left shoulder. Her skin was pale and perfect, like the finest porcelain on the most carefully and well constructed of china dolls. From her head to her toes, she looked utterly delicate and beautiful and reserved, as a proper lady should.
Those bright emerald hues glanced up slowly towards the clock. It was early, still, but she'd much rather go down and begin the day instead of simply waiting in the silence of her room. If she was early enough, she could even take a small detour to the library before classes began. Thus was her thinking as she floated out the door, glossy black school bag in hand, and down into the cafeteria where professional chefs served her professional food. After Whitney had finished filling her plate -- the contents of which being both scarce and abnormally healthy for the average girl her age -- she made her way over to the tables. There was a group of chattering girls over at one table and though it was much too busy for her tastes, they raised their hands in welcome all the same. Despite the divorce, Whitney's family was still influential enough to merit such politeness even from other rich families. Neither the Moores nor the Hamiltons were what one might call nouveau riche; both sides had come from prominent names and prominent estates, boasting some of the richest stocks in the Western Hemisphere. The Moores were even rumored to be linked with royalty, though the truth of this had yet to be confirmed. Whitney waved back, offering a small smile, before she turned and looked for a less busy table.
And there it was! Smiling a little timidly to herself, she looked on with relief as she located a relatively deserted table that was nonetheless occupied enough to not look pathetic. She didn't know the girls at the table -- at least, not personally -- though she though she might have seen at lest most of them around the school..... But it was better than sitting with the normal crowd. Shy as she was, Whitney had made up her mind that this year, for sure, she would make an effort and change her school life. No more friends who weren't really friends, no more fake laughs and niceties just to get an "in" with influential parents!
With this thought in mind, the brunette took a deep breath and stepped up and asked, "May I sit here....?" The girl she addressed looked to be about her own age. She was sitting a little apart from the others and, though Whitney could not allegedly say that she was familiar with absolutely everyone in the school, she could definitely say that this was a new face. The girl had pretty blond hair, cropped short and with a bit of a wave to it. Well, she looked nice enough. "Sorry if I'm disturbing you or something," she added hastily, seeing a little too late that the blond had been reading something -- some sort of letter. Whitney's pale cheeks did nothing to hide the blush of embarrassment that scattered across her delicate features as she stood, nervous, waiting for the other girl's response.
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Posted: Tue May 20, 2008 9:17 pm
Yun-Ha yawned slowly, his mouth opening wide, pink tongue poking out much in the way a cat's might, one pale, gold-toned hand raising to cover his mouth. He didn't want Oliver to be offended or anything if he was one of those overly conservative, persnickety pricks that went around telling people how to behave. Not, of course, that that was what the little Asian boy thought his room mate was. Actually, Oliver had been nothing but kind, if a bit distant, in the days since they had first started sharing their room. Ironically enough, it was that very fact that had made Yun-Ha feel a little put out about his room mate. Sure, he seemed nice enough, but he just talked too little! Yun-Ha loved to chat, but he enjoyed it most when he had someone to talk with, rather than at. Well, perhaps it would just take time to crack this orangey's protective wall of disconcertingly polite distance; Yun-Ha was, after all, quite positive that he could do it. He only had one problem: he was impatient to have someone to talk to now.
Yun-Ha finished his yawn (which, really, appeared to have taken up all the time in the world) only to begin stretching backwards. Small as he was, his thin torso seemed to stretch impossibly far back as his arms extended. A moment later, the notable sounds of the boy's back popping sounded softly and then, finally, he straightened up, a bright smile on his lips. He would probably have to take this slow; Oliver didn't yet know of Yun-Ha's morning practices because he had taken care to perform them while the other was out. Now that school was started and they would be raising at the same time, there was no way to escape doing them while the other was there (unless he wanted to get up early, which he most certainly didn't).
"Yes, actually, I am very, very excited!" he exclaimed, the truth of his words evident on the wide grin that had planted itself on his warm lips. "Oh, I haven't been to a regular school in so long! Not that, really, this is regular or anything... it's just... more regular. And I am very excited about being in America." Yun-Ha paused for a moment, one hand raising to brush back some dark bangs that had fallen into his pitch-colored eyes. "Hmmm, that sounds a bit goody-goody immigrant type, yes? I guess I should say that I am excited to finally arrive in the cultural mixing pot that practically controls the economy of the majority of the world," he rephrased, a bit of an impish grin on his lips as he shrugged slowly. Really, he was just joking... but it sounded intelligent. Sort of.
"Well, time for my morning stretches!" he exclaimed cheerily. "Want to join me or are you a non-believer in physical activity like my last room mate?" And then, without waiting for an answer, Yun-Ha started. At the beginning it was all simple things that any generally healthy teenager should be able to do: lunges, leaning down to touch his toes, arm circles and other generic stretches. But after that, it started to get weird. Some time after the back bridge, from which the boy kicked up and over to regain his standing position, Yun-Ha started performing a series of stretched that no one who wasn't on a fitness level on par with top gymnasts would be able to perform. Yun-Ha seemed to find it all incredibly easy, though, what with the way the smile that spread across his lips was both relaxed and content.
"Alright, all finished!" he said at last, looking very self-satisfied after releasing what would have been, for most, an incredibly painful position. The boy straightened up slowly and dusted himself off slowly before going over to his chest of drawers and taking out his new uniform -- the white one, which he preferred heads up over the black one -- and quickly pulled it on without a care for neatness. The effect, like the rest of him, was a bit askew and slightly a mess, but it suited him in a cute, boyish way because, after all, that was exactly what Yun-Ha was: cute and boyish. His hair, still slightly damp after having only been partially dried with the blow-drier, was slightly messy atop his small face, but that was just his style.
"So, hey, what do you bet that I actually make it to the cafeteria today without getting lost or asking for directions?" he asked, grinning impishly.
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Posted: Tue May 20, 2008 10:21 pm
[[Woooo!! 800th post in the guild!! :uD
Also, I don't really feel like posting for the other band members right now, so I'll let them just... be inconspicuous and incognito for their morning rounds. >>;;]]
Seven in the morning: whoever had dreamed up that this was a good time for innocent little school children to arise, all chipper and fresh, from their beds had been terribly mistaken. Or, at least, Robby Hart thought so. The young teen idol grumbled slowly as his alarm clock continued with its endless, raucous chatter. A moment later, his pale, defined hand slammed down upon the apparatus by his bedside that had been one of his own inventions -- an alarm clock that daily changed its chime so that he could never ignore it due to familiarity -- which effectively quite ceased its chatter. Robby groaned slowly, his lips turning down into an attractive, sleep-muddled scowl. Robby wasn't even trying to be attractive, but it seemed that everything the teen heart throb did was attractive, whether he meant it to be or not.
Robby rose slowly from bed. Waking up was always his least favorite time. Robby was a night person, right to the core, and mornings annoyed him to no end. Once he was up, however, he found the early hours to be relatively easy to deal with; the only hard part, really, was actually getting up. Robby stretched, glancing around the familiar single that the school had afforded him because of the whole "super popular pop/rock star" thing. Sure, he appreciated the gesture and all... but he also sort of wished he could have shared it with his band mates. Or maybe not. But the school should have at least been able to put them in the rooms next to his own or at least the same building. The members of Muse had already thoroughly voiced their frustrations about being set in different dorms, but to little avail.
Yawning, Robby went through his usual morning ablutions: showering, grooming, stretching, exercising his vocal cords, and dressing. Despite his good looks, the redhead had never really spent much time cultivating himself; he had never needed to. All he did was run a hand loosely through his only semi-blow dried hair to get it that sexy, damp, tousled look that the less physically fortunate spent hours cultivating as opposed to the five seconds or so that Robby spent on his hair. The glasses came next -- a spare set of attractive, thin black frames that lacked any actual lenses, but which helped to give him a more serious, scholarly appearance that he hoped, likely in vain, would maybe (just maybe) keep the students off of him. Not that he really expected it to work, of course. With that, he gave a quick glance into the mirror to confirm that, yes, he was scandalously gorgeous once again before he set out, locking the door behind himself.
To be almost immediately mauled. It took a moment -- the shock at seeing Robby Hart had the other various occupants of the floor stunned for several moments before they finally started swarming him. A moment later, a couple security guards had elbowed their way through the crowd, sandwiching a now distinctly ruffled-looking (but still overly attractive) Robby down the elevator and into the cafeteria. Here, Robby left his guards behind, deciding to pull out he all-purpose not-very-successful-hat-of-disguise. Well, it was better than nothing. Beanie now secure over his head, tugged down nearly to the top of his fake glasses, he assumed a place in the breakfast line and was, thankfully, not noticed.
Several minutes later found the attractively disguised redhead seated at one of the less occupied tables. He didn't want to be too close to that group of gossiping girls, instead preferring to take residence at one end of what seemed to be the table for quiet "reader types," as the majority of those seated seemed to be engrossed in some sort of literature.
[[Bleh. A bit short, I know. I'll add on to it if I need to...]]
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Posted: Fri May 23, 2008 6:59 pm
Within sexen minutes Ryo was dry, dressed in his uniform, and heading down to the cafeteria. He wasn't usually big on breakfast, but anywhere was better then his dorm room right now.
As he entered the large room, he felt it was a mistake. He never liked big public places before unless he knew someone. Now he was alone. Very, very alone.
Ryo grabbed a tray and got some eggs and toast and found a table in the far back of the cafeteria. He needed space, air, to be alone for a while. He wouldn't push someone away if they wanted to sit with him, though.
"I hope the food doesn't reak like my last school's" he mumbled and tried the eggs. To his suprise, and delight, they were excelent! "Good to know they like their experiments well fed"
He sighed and realized how true his words were. "Experiments" were all these people were. It sickened him.
(good enough, i guess. Nothing's really happening right now)
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Posted: Sun May 25, 2008 5:20 pm
Angel sighed; this impending meeting with the IMDA today was more then enough to keep her mind occupied. These were the men who were both responsible for her incarceration and her freedom; it's hard enough to trust the bad guy, let alone one who offered you a "helping" hand. Still, for a girl sitting in a crowded room she should have been paying better attention to the comings and goings of the people around him.
"May I sit with you?"
Angel jumped slightly at the intrusion of another voice. Blue eyes alight with surprise, she looked up half expecting to see a menacing figure in a black suit and dark glasses - the embodiment of big, scary agent of an evil organization. A silent sigh of relief escaped her lips as she laid eyes on her visitor, a girl around her size and age but with a much prettier appearance. She looked like a china doll, the kind that her mother would never have let her touch when she was little; Angel was a klutz and fragile things tended to break under her care.
"Y-Yes," the blonde stammered, blushing slightly as she stowed the mysterious red ribboned letter in her school bag. Angel lost herself sometimes in the presence of a pretty girl and this china doll was definitely one of the prettiest she had seen in a long time. "Of course," she continued after a moment of regaining her composure. "Please, take a seat."
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Posted: Sun May 25, 2008 5:27 pm
"I didn't know you were a contortionist," Oliver said as he watched his roommate proceed with his morning routine. It looked painful - he could only imagine how it felt. How anyone could put their body into such a position without having a gun pointed at their head, he didn't know. And he didn't know that those positions were painful either, just that they looked that way. Then again, anything beyond simple stretches looked painful to him.
So, naturally he was relieved to see that Yun-Ha could straighten backup; the last thing he needed was to start the school day with a trip to the emergency room.
"Nevermind the caf," Oliver replied with a rare grin, "Five bucks says you won't last the morning without getting lost at least once, Pretzle-man. Now c'mon, breakfast awaits." Grabbing his school bag off the desk chair, the auburn-haired boy headed for the door.
The trip downstairs to the cafeteria was short and uneventful and quiet. Yun may not like the atmosphere as it was now, still and a little bit awkward, but that was Oliver's world. The only difference was that it was much louder than this; his siblings tended to make a lot of noise, but most of the time it was still just as awkward. A cup of coffee was the first thing on his priority list when he entered the breakfast line. In the morning food always took a back seat to caffeine.
Once both of those needs were satisfied Oliver moved onto the dining area. A slight frown pulled at his lips when he was met with the loud buzz of students in the next room; noise like this was just an indirect form of talking to intrude upon his still and awkward world. It was rather annoying to deal with, but he couldn't be a total shut-in for the rest of his life. Hazel eyes scanned the room in search of an empty seat for both him and Yun. However, a run-of-the-mill hat and glasses combination caught his attention first. The corners of his lips perked up into a sly smirk as he recognized the red haired teenaged heartthrob. So it seemed Robby Hart liked to flirt with danger, or in this case liked to flirt with the chance of being mauled by hordes of ravenous fans.
"Hey Ollie!"
And with that the frown returned to his face as quickly as it appeared. There wasn't enough caffeine in the world to give him the energy to face that nickname this early in the morning or the person who said it. Oliver sighed, closing his eyes wearily. He would have pinched his nose in frustration if his hands weren't full. There was only one person in this school who dared to call him Ollie.
"Do you have to be so loud?" Oliver growled, turning to his left to look his old soccer-loving roommate in the eye.
Diego Perez was your average, good-looking teenaged boy. A crown of chocolate brown hair covered his head, spiked up with gel and so thick it was a luxury to run his hands through it. Eyes the colour of dark green forest leaves stared out from behind stylish, oval-shaped glasses. Those weren't something you saw every day. After rooming with the guy for two years Oliver had only seen the brunet wear his glasses a mere handful of times. The rest of the time he wore contacts. Diego was shorter than he was by a few inches, but it was obvious who had the stronger build; years of soccer practice gave the brunet a definite advantage over him.
"If it gets your attention then of course." Diego had a grin on his face, which also wasn't abnormal for him. Despite how much the boy's obsession bothered him, he was still a good person and probably one of the few people at this school who liked Oliver for who he was. To no surprise of his, Diego was clutching a mini soccer ball in his hands; the boy practically ate, slept and breathed the game.
"And why would you need to do that?" Oliver asked as he walked towards an empty table. It was situated on the other side of the cafeteria by a towering window; if Diego wanted to talk then he wanted to do so away from any eavesdroppers, particularly Hart. Their first meeting in the stairwell wasn't exactly a pleasant one and while he had figured out who he was, Oliver thought his identity was safe. He wanted to keep it that way.
Diego followed.
"Trust me pal," the brunet said with a slight chuckle in his voice, "I wouldn't dream of poking the dragon before he's had his shot of caffeine in the morning, but a tasty morsel of information just fell into my lap that can't wait."
He took a seat at the table and watched as his friend did the same. "So," Oliver asked as he picked up his cup of coffee, "What gossip did your sister tell you?"
"First off," Diego said, "It's a rumour and secondly what makes you think Mirella told me?" That question didn't last very long without an answer. The look on Oliver's face was enough to tell his friend that he saw through him as if he were glass. "Okay, okay," the brunet confessed, putting up his hands in surrender, "Mirella told me, but it is still just a rumour so don't expect it to show up in the Student Body anytime soon."
Oliver took a small sip of his coffee, a slight smirk on his lips as he got the reference; a new issue of the school newspaper, aptly named The Student Body, arrived every week and besides the weekly comic strip, the article by Mirella Perez was the reason why people bothered to read it. On the surface her column appeared to cover human interest stories, but from what Oliver had read so far Mirella's work was closer to gossip than actual journalism. The only thing that separated her from your common tabloid writer, and perhaps the reason why her column was so popular, was that she didn't fabricate or embolish anything in her work; everything she wrote was true. Mirella had a talent for finding the truth no matter how deep it was buried.
"Anyway," Diego continued, "Word is school's got some new students."
"Well duh," Oliver sneered as he picked up his fork and tucked into his breakfast; waffles and coffee were his favourite way to start off the day. "They're called first years, remember?"
"I know that smartass. What I mean is these new students are our age. Y'know, third year and above? And there's quite a few of them too. Now that's not uncommon for a public school, but last time I checked Blackthorn's not your average high school."
Oliver had to agree with him, though he really didn't want to admit it. Blackthorn is a wealthy school for even wealthier teenagers, which meant there are a whole other set of rules. Students didn't often transfer to different schools, that's how rumours spread and the rich really didn't like it when other rich people talked. It gave off a bad impression. So if they could trust the rumours, if there really were a flock of new students besides the first years, well... Mirella will have a very interesting article to for the masses to devour soon.
[[Hey Ginger, I'm assuming Yun has followed Oliver downstairs, but if you had something else in mind then go ahead and do your thing. Oh and elliot I don't know if Robby figured out who Oliver was or if he cares at all but if you want to play on this post by all means join in. ^_____^]]
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Posted: Sun May 25, 2008 5:45 pm
Salem was used to people staring. Over the years he had received looks of all kinds: curiosity, awe, desire, fear, hatred - after a while anyone would become numb to it. Salem was lucky. He managed to stay aware of the looks that mattered, the ones of desire and fear; anything else, unless the onlooker was of particular interest to him, fell off his radar. So, it wasn't all that strange that he missed the peculiar look Will was gave him.
In all honesty, Salem didn't care that the other boy was looking at him, or that he was looking at him while he stood there dripping wet with nothing but a towel covering up his important parts. And for once this comfort had nothing to do with confidence or personality, both of which he has in spades; there is no denying that, but the environment where he was raised.
For the children at St. Patrick's there was no such thing as privacy. The barracks were run by a strict "No Bunk Left Empty" policy. In other words, the school was about filled to capacity all the time. Sometimes Salem would overhear the workers talking about the number of mutants at St. Patrick's, wondering aloud why the good Father just didn't send some to other residential schools instead, but he knew they were just complaining; it wasn't a big secret why the population was so high there. Cheap labour. The more mutants he had, the more hands he had to work the fields and the more profit he made under the table. So, between school, work and mass the mutants never had a moment to themselves. And that was the way the good Father liked it.
After he finished drying his hair Salem tossed the towel onto the back of his desk chair before getting dressed. He didn't like the school uniform, he wasn't a big fan of formal wear, but he didn't hate it either. However, even more then the tiny school bag, there was one thing he just couldn't bear: the tie. Not only did he not know how to tie the damn thing, but the last and only time he ever had to wear one it felt like a hangman's noose was being put around his neck. Giving the long red piece of fabric one last disdainful look, Salem tossed it into the waste basket.
"Eight-thirty, huh?" he asked, pulling open the collar of his shirt. "That's not so bad." Then again, the only thing he had to compare it to was St. Patrick's favoured routine of getting up before the sun even sees fit to rise.
"Then we should get down to it," Salem added as he shouldered his backpack. "You of all people look in need of a good meal. And at least that's something you can count on." Maybe it was because the food at St. Patrick's wasn't exactly edible, but Salem was amazed by the cafeteria. He had almost forgotten food could taste so good.
Salem hummed quietly to himself as he left the their room; he didn’t know what it was but there was something about the simple act of singing – or humming in this case – that was soothing to him. After grabbing a trey full of food the brunet went into the dining room of the cafeteria which was pretty packed by now, each of the long tables had at least five people sitting at them so sitting alone wasn’t an option. Of course, it’s not like Salem would choose to sit alone, not when there was a table of very pretty girls just waiting to be explored.
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