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 Posted: Sun Dec 23, 2007 5:20 pm
But that was how Will was. Salem would grow used to in time, since, as roommates, they would be seeing a lot more of each other. While Salem was on the louder end of the spectrum of sociability, Will was most deffinately way on the other side. Though some of the trauma the two had underwent was quite similar, their ways of dealing with it were polar opposite. Salem, for his part, seemed to have recovered at least somewhat from those terrible experiences. He had taken them and learned how to act in a manner playful enough to entice others but forceful enough to let them know that he was in charge. Salem was outgoing and inclined towards others and was even a flirt. Will, on the other, had become a complete introvert. He still feared those hands, still awoke at night drenched in sweat. It was memories of those times that caused him to lose control. A part of his body would disapear in intangibility or become hard as steal. One the transformation was undone, Will would be left with shooting pains all down his body, leaving him almost paralyzed for the remainder of the night. It was no wonder that his bright eyes tended to have the heavy look of one who lacked sleep -- almost like a natural tinge of black eye liner. Will's mind had become haunted with images and will striking feelings of fear, causing the teen to do his best to attract the least amount of that sort of attention as possible. Becoming unatractive was just his means of defense. He didn't want to be good-looking if it meant he would get attacked again.
His years of isolation had also caused him to be not at all mindful of others. As he enclosed himself behind the walls of his own mind, encasing himself in fear, he had lost contact with others. He wasn't good at communicating or being polite. He was very quiet and perfectly blunt on those occasions when he did speek. Even then, though, his words were akward -- just as odd and disjointed as his movements. He was like some sort of stranger to reality, or at least to the word "community." William was a boy on the outskirts.
The line of Will's lips twitched downwards slightly, a frown threatening to take his lips as the other spoke. Salem's words were nothing near sincerity and were obviously meant to be a bit of a cutting blow. So much for getting along with his new roommate, right? Well, it wasn't as if Will had been hoping for anything, anyway. In fact, he had wanted a single room and had even applied for one but had been instantly denied. They knew his record well enough and when he had said that he didn't feel comfortable sharing a room they had replied with that old "it's good for you" line and a whole long tangent about how it would help him become less reclusive if he shared his room.
Those same lips were something of the only part of him that was really visible. Long, dark, messy bangs coupled with the thick-lensed glasses hid his eyes from view. Though his hair was not matted and didn't appear to have tangles, it was certainly a mess, the slightly damp hair twisting this way and that and now only slightly clinging to the teen's neck. It was still easy to see that Will was very pale and he obviously had good skin, but with the way he looked now his skin looked more sickly than attractive. His shirt hung loose and though it was only a normal t-shirt, the ends of the sleeves reached to his elbows. The forearms that showed beneath looked all the skinnier for being shrouded within that overly baggy shirt. His jeans weren't quite so loose but they obviously weren't the right size. Had his t-shirt not been so baggy the other would have been able to see that the only thing keeping Will's jeans up was an incredibly old, weathered belt that had begun to fray long ago. There were more than a few patches in his clothing and none of it looked at all new. Will was most obviously not someone from a good family.
Even more than that, though, his very posture was akward. Where before his stance had been endearing, here he looked like no more than a lone geek, too caught up in his own mind to notice much of anything else. Where before he had seemed shy and cute and most deffinately attractive, he now seemed nothing but a completely hopeless case of ugly. When dressed like that it was easy to ignore the natural beauty of Will's appearance.
Will made a small sound that was something similar to a grunt, but not quite. Soon following, a small, but deep, cough let his lips. He raised a hand quickly to his lips, as was habbit. If there was blood he couldn't let the other see. Thankfully the cough had been a small one and there was not even a hint of copper or red, though the cough had caused a slight spasm in his body. "....thanks..." he muttered slowly, words muffled due to the hand that was still covering his lips. "I think I'll... stay in a bit. Maybe go out later......"
((*editedit* Here's two pics of Will: x o))
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Posted: Sun Dec 23, 2007 7:12 pm
Oliver sighed as his parents midnight black Rolls Royce came to a stop in the parking lot. Yet another beginning to a long, boring and uneventful school year at Blackthorn Academy. Oliver could hardly stand it. Private schools may look nice in the brochures, but honestly we you took away the attractive models, all smiling happily in the pictures, the expensive paper and the fake statements about "What a great experience Blackthorn Academy is" they weren't that special. In fact, the only difference was the the amount of money the parents have to pay to send their kids there. That's it. Blackthorn Academy was just a place where the wealthy stuck their spoiled, bratty children for nine months.
Oliver got out of the car and retrieved his luggage from the trunk. Unlike most of the other families piling out onto the campus, none of his family had come to see him off on his first day of school. He didn't care though. They all had lives and careers to manage without the added nuisance of escorting their little brother to school. This was his third year here. He knew the routine and didn't need someone holding his hand while he walked through the familiar surroundings.
To avoid any potential meetings with former classmates and their pretentious families, Oliver made straight for his dormitory. He had been living in Sawyer Hall up until now, but he decided for a change in scenery at the end of last year and, hopefully, a new roommate. it's not that Oliver disliked his former roommate, but if he had to listen to the guy recount one more football, or soccer game - be forced to suffer while he relieved his glory days - he was going to jump out of a window.
And if his new roommate was anything like his old one he was going to get the deed over with quickly; Oliver was pretty confident that falling from a seventh floor window was high enough to put him out of his misery.
What he discovered when he opened the door to Room 707, though thankfully appeared to be as far from a jock as possible, still took him slightly by surprise. Oliver hadn't seen someone jumping so enthusiastically on their bed since he was ten years old and was even younger when he could last remember himself doing it.
"Uhh?" Oliver said, unable to keep his expression from showing anything but curious surprise. And that surprise seemed to momentarily strip him of the manners he had been raised to use in the company of new people. "Who are you?" Oliver said in an almost accusatory voice, though he hadn't intended it to sound that way.
[[I'll have to post for Salem tomorrow. I'm just too exhausted right now. Sorry Mint-chan]
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Posted: Sun Dec 23, 2007 8:01 pm
((Ufufufu, Yun-Yun's a little weirdo. x3 ))
But, then, Oliver was very different from Yun-Ha. Yun-Ha had been kept cooped up in the dingiest, darkest of places for the last two years where there was no possibility of even mentioning such a childish act as jumping on a bed. It wasn't an act that did not befit the "dignity and pride" of the old so-called reform school, an act that would only bring shame. And so Yun-Ha took full pleasure in truly acting himself for the first time in quite a while. He didn't try to stop the small bits of laughter that escaped his lips as he jumped. The bed was squeeking a bit, but nothing major. The bedsheets, however, had become quite unkept. His feet weren't tangled or anything but he would need to be careful or he might trip himself up.
Just as he was thinking that, he heard the sound of the door opening. Already mid-bounce, a bit of laughter showing lightly on his lips, his black eyes rose to see the boy who would be his new roommate. Distracted and more than a little surprised, the boy tripped as he landed, feet flying upwards as he fell back-first onto the matress. A normal person might have potentially hit his head, therefor causing pain in that area. Yun-Ha, however, was surprisingly fit despite his small stature. His parents had always made sure that their children were adept at a variety of tasks, martial arts included. Of course, it wasn't as if all Asian children were capable of such things, though some did believe it was so, but Yun-Ha was particularly good. Falling without hurting himself was a simple matter and as soon as he had landed, he slid slowly off the bed and onto the floor, the bare souls of his feet pressing into the hard surface.
He stayed like that, squatting, his back pressed against the side of the mattress. His dark hair was rather a mess and his face was flushed with an eager sort of childish glee from the previous activity. He glanced over at the other, a bit of a grin on his lips as he paused to catch his breath.
"Yun-Ha Lee," he said brightly. For all his practice with English, when speaking Korean -- such as his name -- it was rather difficult for him to keep his accent in check. The result was that his words would seem a bit... off to Oliver, though not by much. "You're Oliver, right? My roommate?"
The dark-haired boy straightened up slowly, arms raising above his head for a moment as he stretched. He looked a bit like a cat, what with his slightly slanted eyes, small, flat nose and that odd way of moving that made it clear that he was very physically fit -- not in the muscular way of course, as he was too small, but he certainly seemed the type who would be able to move swiftly or be flexible or something like that.
He walked over to the boy who he had now, at least mentally, dubbed "Orangey," one hand out-stretched. It was the custom in the West, right? It was also spreading over to the East, but not very quickly.
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Posted: Sun Dec 23, 2007 8:25 pm
Termination elevation.
Step one to the very worst days of my life
Metaphoric Mastication
They won't resist eating me alive
Pedestal Love, one of the MutEra band Gemini Triplet's older singles, screamed in Jamie's ear. The raven-haired girl lay sprawled out on the backseat of the car, not bothering with a seatbelt or any sense of regard for the danger of her position. She sighed. She just didn't really care anymore.
Well, she did, but less than she really wanted to be.
However, her feet were draped across the lap of her "other half," Rory. He sat there scowling at Jamie's antics and tsked at her thrice in succession.
"If we stop suddenly, we're both going to die because of your stupidity. And unlike you, I can't survive without the other."
Again, Jamie sighed. "Stop worry. John's a fair driver from the amount of scratches on this baby. And we're not going to get in an accident. You're just being so paranoid."
"Yes! Paranoid. For my life thanks. It's kind of something I value quite highly."
"Come on, Rory, we'd already been through this conversation five times since we left..."
"And we'll keep going until you listen to what I say and stop being an idiot."
Totally exasperated from the same arguments over and over again, Jamie swung her legs off Rory and planted them in front of her where normal car-riding people would've put them. She looked out the window and frowned.
"What was the use? We're practically here already!" She her mind put up a storm and she shoved Rory back into her body before exiting the car.
Y'know. Life would be so much easier for your luggages if you'd just let me carry my own stuff. You're carrying luggages for two people here. And unless you really want to look like a rich stuck up prep, I suggest you turn that frown upside-down and let me the hell out of here.
Not really wanting to be diagnosed with schizophrenia by her peers once again, she mumbled something about 'stupid alternate egos who won't just shut up' and acquiesced to his request.
"There. Isn't that much nicer having me out of your head."
Jamie scoffed and retaliated, "Yes, much. Now it's easier to block you out."
"Oh!" cried Rory, clenching his chest, "I'm so hurt, Jamesies. You wound me so deeply with your cries of loathing. Am I that unworthy of your presence?"
"Rors. Just shut up and help carry the bags to Chaislyn Hall. Then you have to get back into me. I don't want anybody getting the wrong idea bringing a guy in my room."
Rory laughed, "With you, dearie? What happened to 'gay as a maypole and camp as a pair of tights?'"
"It disappeared when you started hitting on that waitress two cities down."
The boys mouth was agape, "I swear to God, Jame, the girl looked like a guy. You cannot deny she didn't look like a guy. You just can't."
________________________________________
"Room 503, Jamie, this is it. Your new life here at Blackthorn. A place for new adventures, new friends, and a clean start in society. No more reminders of the ugly life we knew before. We are fre-"
Jamie had clamped a hand over Rory's mouth, albeit difficultly due to the height difference, and promptly told him to shut up. "Let's just find a random alcove so we can phase without anyone seeing."
"But there's no on-"
"FINE!" Jamie quickly phased Rory into her self before finding her composure. She looked one time to the plaque that held her name and one other's before slowly pushing the door open.
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Posted: Sun Dec 30, 2007 12:53 pm
Salem shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said before turning towards the door. There were still two more days until classes began, so they would all have plenty of opportunity to familiarize themselves with the campus. Still, Salem was too excited to wait.
The school he had been kept at, Saint Patrick's, prided itself on it's modest surroundings and it's strict work ethic. The grounds contained nothing but a large school house, barracks for the "students" - prisoners in Salem's opinion, a barn, a water tower and a few acres of farmland. The Headmaster believed that the only way to rid the mutants of their devilish powers was through hard work. So, the students were expected to do the work of farm equipment and keep the fields. The only ones allowed to use their powers were the students strong enough to pull the plows.
Looking back on it now, Salem could say with certainty that the only thing the Headmaster's plan accomplished was a reliable, free source of labour to work his lands and ridding the world of at least one or two mutants a year. No big loss by anyone's standards.
Needless to say, Salem was completely miffed when he was pulled out of his morning lessons by the Headmaster. He had been a regular thorn in the man's side since the day he arrived on Saint Patrick's doorstep. He was in the Headmaster's office at least once a month for stealing food from the kitchens or medicine from the nurses station, fighting, using his powers, or leaving school grounds ( an absolutely atrocious crime as far as they were concerned ). Salem's file was a chronicle of his misdeeds and the punishments that followed, which rarely fit the crime.
It was only when he was forced into the familiar chair; looking at the Headmaster across his desk did he see the other man dressed in a crisp black suit and tie. For a second he thought he had left school grounds one too many times and it had finally caught up with him, but the conversation that followed changed his mind. Salem was sceptical at first; it sounded too good to be true, but the IMDA agent soon had him convinced. He accepted without another seconds thought; anywhere had to be better then Saint Patrick's.
A month had passed since that meeting in the Headmaster's office and what he thought were going to be easy days ahead of him only became worse. He couldn't be sure if it was because the teachers hated him, or were just bitter about losing a worker ( he had lasted seven years, so that had to make him valuable to them in some way, right? ), but it seemed the staff were determined to make his remaining time there at the school a living Hell. Overnight Salem's work load doubled and the teachers seemed to be watching his every move, often punishing him publicly for the slightest infraction. Still Salem couldn't remember feeling happier then he felt the morning the black car parked outside of the main building and he bid the place goodbye for what he hoped would be the last time.
Reaching out, Salem took the doorknob in his hand and pulled open the door to their room. The hall outside echoed with the voices of the other Blackthorn students still arriving. "I'm going to get a lay of the land," he added over his shoulder as the door closed softly behind him.
Oliver stood still in the doorway, one hand holding the door open while the other kept a firm grip on his shoulder bag. For a split second he thought that he was going to have to call the nurses office as he watched the dark-haired boy lose his footing. He breathed a silent sigh of relief when he was proven wrong; personally, he didn't think a trip to the hospital was the best way to christen a new school year.
"It seems so," Oliver replied, nodding once to confirm the boy, Yun-Ha's suspicions. Well, it seemed that his prayers had been answered this semester. Yun-Ha looked to be more of the bouncy and energetic type then the athletic, sports-freak type that Oliver had come to despise over the past few years. Of course, he couldn't say that for certain, but as first impressions go he had a good feeling that his interpretation was right on the money.
Yun-Ha was polite too, which was a pleasant change from his old roommate. Or perhaps he was just comfortable in formal settings, either way Oliver didn't care. He stepped forward to take Yun-Ha's hand in turn, in the process releasing his hold on the door and letting it close with a snap behind him. A strong handshake is the sign of good character, or so his Father always said, but Oliver had never been very interested in his Father's pool of business ethics. Whether it was strong or gentle, a handshake was just a handshake, a universal form of greeting another person.
Still, some habits are nearly impossible to break. Oliver gripped the offered hand firmly and shook once. His hands were fairly full with luggage, but he managed without much effort. Dropping his hand to his side, Oliver moved past Yun-Ha and deposited his things onto the bed. There was a box or two still sitting in the truck of the Rolls Royce filled with necessities, or what he had dubbed "The Private School Survival Kit": an alarm clock, a phone, a laptop, printer and enough books to fill the shelf above his desk to the point of bursting as well as a list of other things to make life hear a little more comfortable.
Speaking of "Survival Kits", Oliver turned around after he set his backpack on top of the bed and quickly scanned over Yun-Ha's side of the room. "Are you a first year?" he asked. In his experience one could always weed the first year students out of a crowd because they generally had a tendency to over pack and never need to use half of what they bring, or under pack by just bringing a few suitcases of clothes and some school supplies. Yun-Ha looked to be one of those students who under packed for the year. Of course, it didn't occur to him that they boy may not have had a choice; the majority of the students here came from wealthy backgrounds, so there was no reason to think that they didn't have enough money to buy whatever it was they thought they needed at the beginning of the school year.
Even if Yun-Ha was a first year student, Oliver wouldn't have cared. A student at Blackthorn Academy had to pass five years worth of classes before they could graduate, ages fourteen through nineteen, and students weren't always granted the luxury of having a roommate in the same grade. As the third year student, Oliver had been lucky ( or unlucky considering the circumstances of his former roommate ) to be bunking with someone in the same year as him since he arrived, but he wasn't really picky. He'd even room with a mutant as long as they weren't a soccer fan.
[[Oh, the irony. Lol. Anyway, sorry for my absence this week. I've been out of town and I would have replied yesterday but I got a nasty bit of food poisoning. sweatdrop Don't I just have all the luck? Love your sketches of Will, btw Mint-chan. They're so cute. 4laugh ]]
Dropping her luggage beside the bed, Angel set about exploring her room. For a dormitory these rooms were quite exquisite. Hardwood floors, two comfortable beds, desks, shelves, closets – even their own private bathroom complete with bathtub and shower. Compared to the school she had been sent to, Northwood Correctional Academy for Girls, this was a little slice of heaven. At Northwood there was no privacy; “the showers” was nothing more then a wide open room with plumping and faucets hanging from the ceiling. The girls were sent there by room, which housed between twelve and sixteen, stripped of all clothing and shower side by side. There were no stalls or curtains to hide their bodies from each other, so one was forced to overcome their modesty in a hurry. Needless to say, she couldn’t wait to take a warm bath in the privacy of her own bathroom.
The faint sound of voices pulled Angel from her thoughts. If she had learned anything during those six months at Northwood it was recognizing when someone was standing right outside her bedroom door; it was a skill that came in handy when you didn’t want the teachers to catch you breaking one of their many strict rules. It sounded like two people, a girl and a guy, were having an argument, but what about she couldn’t tell. Angel was far too polite to eavesdrop on someone else’s conversation, especially one sensitive enough to make people’s emotions flare. She did, however, turn to face the door. If there were people outside then the least she could do was greet them if they chose to open the door, right? It might even be her roommate.
This thought excited her. Angel hadn’t been able to make many friends at Northwood and the friends she did have before the IMDA found her were unlikely to talk to her now that what she was had finally come out. It was something she didn’t like to think about for it saddened her and today should not be spent dwelling in such depressing thoughts. Sometimes positive thinking was the best way to approach a new situation.
She draped her jacket over the back of her desk chair as the door opened. However, as she turned around, hand-knitted scarf still hanging around her neck, Angel was a little surprised to only see one person crossing the threshold. A young girl with thick-rimmed glasses.
“Hello,” Angel said with a smile, waving one of her hands in greeting. It was a little strange to only see one person entering the room – hadn’t she heard two voices? – but she quickly dismissed the thought. The people she had heard must have only paused in front of her door for a moment before taking their discussion elsewhere.
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Posted: Sun Dec 30, 2007 1:36 pm
[[Welcome back. <3]]
Those dark eyes watched the other, a pleasant smile on the lips that fell below. Yun-Ha was incredibly attentive to detail, but his gaze wasn't calculating or anything of the sort to make another uncomfortable. He was simply interested and lively. He grinned as the other took his hand. Oliver had a strong hand and a shake that reminded Yun-Ha of some of the business men he had met while traveling with his father. The boy responded in kind, his grip surprisingly firm for such a small hand. "S'nice to meet you, Oliver." Truthfully, Yun-Ha was dying to call the other "Orangey." He really loved giving nicknames to people but, as of yet, did not feel comfortable enough to do so with the other -- or, rather, he was comfortable enough to do it but he didn't think the other would be willing to accept. Oliver would probably get mad at him if he dubbed him such a terribly cliched nickname so soon after they met.
The little Asian boy glanced back, dark eyes following the other's gaze as his new roommate scanned his belongings. It wasn't as Oliver thought, though -- those suit cases were jam packed perfectly to fit more in them than most Westerners would think possible. Surprise was likely awaiting the orange-haired youth because the contents of Yun-Ha's packages had a far greater volume than the other presumed.
Yun-Ha shook his head. "Nope. Sophomore. It's my first year here, though...." the boy said with a shrug. He didn't take offense at the assumption -- he was very used to people thinking he was younger than he truly was. Most people thought him to be about thirteen or so -- at least Oliver hadn't asked if he had skipped a grade. "What about you? What grade're you in?" he asked curiously. Oliver didn't seem that much older than him, if at all older. And yet, despite that, there was an air of odd... well, Yun-Ha wasn't really sure if it was maturity or just solitude or something, but it was deffinately nothing like Yun-Ha himself.
Yun-Ha sat down slowly upon his bed but sat up an instant later as his ring tone sounded. By the sound of it, it was some sort of children's song but it was distinctly in another language. Yun-Ha reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone, flipping it open before holding it to his ear.
Whoever he was talking to, he obviously wasn't English. The conversation started out in Korean and slowly morphed into Russian and then, at some point, there was an abrupt switch to French. This wasn't uncommon in Yun-Ha's conversations with his family -- they often found that some things could only best be said in one of the various languages they knew. It was several minutes before Yun-Ha finally said "byebye" and hung up, storing his cell phone back into his pocket. From the look on his face, the conversation had been nothing out of the ordinary -- at least for Yun-Ha.
"Ehh, sorry about that," he said, a bit of an accent lingering in his voice. He coughed slightly into his hand, clearing his throat and, seemingly, the accent as well. "That was one of my brothers. He told me to send him some foreign goods," he said, a light grin on his lips. He was now sitting once more on the edge of his bed, eyes trained upon the other. Oliver would be his roommate for at least one year, right? So Yun-Ha should get to know him better!
"Eh, so, anyway... Whot sort of family do you come from? My dad's a translator so we all speek a bunch of different languages," he explained.
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Posted: Sun Dec 30, 2007 2:07 pm
((Yessss, welcome back, love. <3 Hope you're fully recovered from your food poisoning. D; And thanks. Will's a bunch of fun to draw 'cuz he's such a mess. <333 ))
Will nodded slowly, brow furrowed. He could feel that constriction in his chest tightening and he knew an attack was coming soon.... The sooner Salem left, the better. He just didn't want the other to hear it or to... to be there or anything. Will didn't want the attention or the pity or whatever else it was that would be brought upon him if the other discovered his condition. He watched as Salem exited the room, waiting for the click of the closing door, before he finally gave into the urge. That pale, slender hand raised once more to cover his mouth as his chest spasmed again. It was much deeper this time; the sound, much louder. He coughed again and again and it was one of those wracking, painful coughs that made his throat and chest ache. No blood this time, thankfully, but Will had been left coughing for over two minutes before the spasms finally died down.
The glasses he wore as part of his disguise had fallen off at some point -- probably around the same time he had fallen off the bed and onto his knees. One hand rested down upon the floor while the other was raised to his lips, pressing against them in a vain effort to surpress the sounds. His dark hair hung forward, obscuring his face in that kneeled over position. It hurt... hurt so much. It happened so often and yet he could never grow used to the pain because it was simply too deep. He felt something... sticky in his hand and finally drew it away from his mouth to find.... Oh gods, not again. He had thought it wasn't that bad this time. It wasn't a lot of it but there was still that bit of red in his hand and.... Maybe he was just under too much stress. Will coughed again, a faint sound of pain leaving his lips as the attack started again. It was very loud -- too loud. He should move into the bathroom to muffle the sound but... he couldn't move while his chest was heaving so severely. The coughs wracked his entire body, ravaging his throat. More coughs and more blood until, finally, the attack ebbed. The sticky redness dripped slowly from his palm down his arm. He needed to get cleaned up, needed to get rid of that color before someone saw him or it dripped onto the carpet. Oh gods, he hated this so much.....
Will was still bent over on the floor, one hand raised to his lips. He didn't feel strong enough to... move... just yet....
((Sorry it's short. He can't do too much in this state, though. 8D;;;; ))
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Posted: Sun Dec 30, 2007 3:44 pm
A slight frown pulled at Oliver's lips as the term "Sophomore" was dropped. It's not that he didn't know what the word meant, it was common knowledge for high school students in the U.S., but it had been a long time since he had heard it used. As if such terms as "Freshmen", "Junior", "Sophomore" were beneath them, the students at Blackthorn very rarely used them. It just further proved what Oliver had thought all along, that this school was filled mainly with stuck-up brats.
Of course, he could understand why these terms weren't used very often. Where regular high schools, both public and private, required their students to go through four years of study, Blackthorn required five. Therefore those terms were difficult to apply here. The only ones that did hold some ground here were "Freshmen", used when referring to a first year, and "Senior", which was used for the fifth year students. Most of the time, however, students just classified themselves by the number of years they have been there, or the level of their class: i.e. second year, third year, fourth year, etc.
"I'm a third year," Oliver replied, but after a moment he added for clarification, "So, basically we're in the same grade." The information that this was Yun-Ha's first year here, though, was enough to perk his interest, albeit mildly; it was difficult to get Oliver interested in anything, a trait which set him apart from his ever-ambitious family.
"So you're a transfer, huh?" Oliver asked, folding his arms loosely over his chest. "What school did you go to before this?"
However, before he was able to get an answer a soft, sing-song ringtone filled the air. It was Yun-Ha's cellphone and Oliver couldn't help but stare curiously as the boy's conversation flow into three separate languages. He could only guess what the first two were - maybe Chinese and something that sounded much harsher to the ears - but the final one was most definitely French. He understood it as much as he did the other two, but at least he was familiar with it for he had had private lessons when he was a child, which surmounted to little.
Much to his confusion, at least Yun-Ha had the decency to explain why he was fluent in so many different languages. And if his Father was a translator like he said then it was more then likely that the boy knew more then just those three languages. Oliver only knew English so, he was at a bit of a disadvantage. He hoped that they wouldn't have a problem later on; it was a little annoying to have a language barrier between roommates, but it was even more irritating when the other could speak English perfectly well and simply chose not to.
"My family is not that interesting," Oliver replied. Since most of his family were so well known, particularly his Mother for her movies, he was a little uncomfortable revealing his connection to them. Classmates have confronted him the the past, asking him "Cross, eh? Are you related to the Cross's?" As if there were only one family with the surname Cross. No matter how right they were, Oliver always told them off for it, turning the line of questioning around on them and making them feel like an idiot. It was the easiest way of making those kind of questions stop.
No sooner had the door closed shut behind him, his attention was drawn back to it. The sound of someone coughing, quite loud and violently at that, made Salem stop in mid step. He paused for a moment, listening intently to the sound beneath the echo of voices bouncing off the hallway walls. Was it coming his dorm room? Salem couldn't be certain; there was just too much noise out here to make heads or tails of much of anything. Despite it's limitations, Salem had grown quite fond of his shapeshifting ability, but sometimes he wished he had a power with more practical use. Super hearing was the first thing that came to mind, which would come in hand right about now.
Finally making up his mind, Salem spun around on his heel, gripped the handle and pushed open the door; this was the most direct way to find out if the coughing was coming from his room or not. At least this would put his mind at ease. Or not.
Green eyes widened as they settled on Will, hunched over on the floor. He was coughing, his whole body heaving forward with every violent jerk of his chest. He had never seen someone so small cough so hard; Salem thought his bones would snap at any moment from the strain. Above all, however, his eyes zeroed in on the thick, red substance that was dribbling down the inside of Will's arm. Something that looked an awful lot like blood...
"Oh, bloody hell," Salem breathed and before he realized it he was kneeling beside the boy.
He wasn't sure what to do since this wasn't exactly his field of expertise. He had stolen medicine from nurses station back at Saint Patrick's, but that was only because the nurse was holding out on them, waiting until a harmless cold turned into full blown pneumonia before she would treat it properly. This, however, sounded much worse then the common cold. He placed a hand gently on Will's shoulder, trying to steady him if only a little bit, and used his other hand to rub small circles on his back.
Salem's mind was buzzing, his heart pounding violently against his ribs, as he tried to sort through his thoughts. What to do. What to do? What to do?! Before he could come to a decision on his own, however, Will made up his mind for him; the coughing worsened, sounding deeper, harsher.
"That's it," Salem muttered, "I'm getting help." Shifting his weight to one leg and half turning his body towards the door, he moved to get up.
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Posted: Sun Dec 30, 2007 4:12 pm
Through his fit, Will didn't even seem to notice as the other entered the room -- which, given the circumstances, was completely understandable. Despite the severity of the spasms that wracked through Will's body, it was a relatively mild fit. There wasn't even very much blood, either -- just a little..... But it still hurt. A lot. The coughing finally subsided, leaving the brunnette with a heavily rising and falling chest. His breathing was slightly spazztic but it was most deffinately better than when he had been coughing. His heart fluttered as he felt on hand on his shoulder and another at his back. Someone was... there was someone in the room who had seen his fit and they were.... he was... touching him. That was almost worse than the fit -- the fact that someone had seen him and was... was touching him. Will had quite a severe fear of human contact and, with his history, the reason for it was painfully obvious.
The person had said something... something.... "I'm getting help." Oh... oh hell no. The last thing he needed was for more people to see him! The school was already well aware of his condition and knew, as well, that it wasn't a sickness -- it was an impediment imposed upon him by his powers. There was no cure and the fits subsided just as quickly as they came.
Will shook his head hastilly, his bloodied hand still pressed up against his lips while his clean one reached out to grasp the hem of the other's shirt. "N-no...." he stammered, voice raspy. Those bright emerald eyes, now slightly glazed from his coughing fit, were fixed firmly upon the other without the cover of glasses. There was something oddly beautiful about him, no matter his mess, now that his eyes had been revealed. It was a little... eerie -- the mess of dark brown hair over sickly pale skin, those bright eyes shining over blood-redened lips.
"No... please," he said again, his voice a little louder this time. It was obvious from the way he winced that it hurt to speek but.... but he would still do it. "I... I'm-- it's alright.... I'm... used to it...... and they can't help, anyway......." He winced again, bloodied hand lowering slowly to his throat. He hated the feel of that thick, wet, stickiness staining his flesh but he had to massage his throat to ease the pain. "So.... so please... don't... tell anyone... please." There was a note of desperation in his voice, even through the pain.
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Posted: Sun Dec 30, 2007 4:35 pm
The dark-haired boy nodded slowly. "Eh, really?" he asked, smiling. "Does that mean we might have some classes together? I hope so! I don't want to be the only person who doesn't know anyone on the first day....." But, of course, he knew that wasn't true -- there were plenty others who, just as he had, were transfering in from those horrid facilities. But, even if he was the only new face, Yun-Ha would have been fine. He was amiable by nature and was hardly ever ill-liked by others.
Yun-Ha felt no such uncomfortable feelings about his own family. True, many people found both him and his family odd, but he didn't mind it. It was just one of those things that he lived with and, likely because he didn't seem to mind it, he was not given any particular trouble on the subject of his family unless some specific issue came up. After all, Yun-Ha was so easily likeable that it was hard to say mean things to him. He'd never really had any discrimination against him -- well, except that whole "smart Asian" thing, but that was true (at least in his case) so he really didn't mind. He was just so easy going about everything that no one had the heart to tease him for any extended period of time.
Yun-Ha nodded slowly, his dark eyes resting on the other's expression. Oliver seemed... uncomfortable on this subject -- which meant that Yun-Ha really shouldn't ask about his family. Well, it was better to learn the boundaries sooner than later -- or never at all. He didn't want to bring up any touchy subjects for the other or do anything that might jeoperdize either of their peaceful dorm lives. "Mmmm, yeah, my family's pretty normal once you get past the whole language thing. 'Cept we do travel a bit more than most families -- you know, for my father's business and stuff," he said with an air of sensibility. Despite the other's misgivings on the language issue, there would be no problem. Yun-Ha had flawless English and would never pretend that he didn't because he thought such things were useless. If he had an issue with someone or found that he particularly disliked that person, he would say it directly instead of simply ignorning the person as well as the problem. Yun-Ha was just that sort of person.
But, besides that, Oliver really shouldn't have worried about Yun-Ha knowing his family. Though he did speek many languages, Yun-Ha was most familiar with his own country's pop culture. Besides, he'd been locked up in one of those so-called "schools" for two years without outside communication. Understandably, he was quite out of it when it came to the trends and such -- particularly of those of another country. Now, however, he was living in a... well, not quite a "normal" school -- but close enough -- and he would have to get up to date if he wanted to get anywhere at all.
As for Yun-Ha's experience in his previous school, it had been incredibly horrible. It was very fortunate that the phone had interupted the other's question for it was still a touchy subject for the boy. But it wasn't as if he didn't have some way to deter the other's interest -- he could just say that it had been some school in Korea, which it had been, and leave it at that because the other did not seem at all familiar with the East.
Yun-Ha's previous school had been the dark spot in the boy's life -- the time that he ghosted over and often pretended hadn't happened so that he could keep his smile. But he wasn't crazy -- he knew it had happened and the events, horrid as they had been, had strengthened him where they had broken so many others. He could persevere through the dark times, as he had already shown, and he would continue to better himself in the effort to undo all of the trauma that that school had caused.
"By the way," the teen said after a moment. "You can call me Yun-Yun or just Yun if you want. Or another nickname, if you'd like." Yun-Ha knew that some Westerners got a little... miffed about the proper pronunciations and such. Besides, he didn't mind nicknames so long as they weren't cruel ones.
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Posted: Sun Dec 30, 2007 4:41 pm
Salem had just begun to stand when light, yet determined tug on his shirt stopped him. He turned back to face the boy as he spoke, dropping down to one knee again. No matter what Will said, Salem couldn't shake his uneasiness; his voice just sounded so hoarse and raw and painful. Perhaps they hadn't gotten off to a good start, their personalities just seemed to cause an uncomfortable friction together, but that didn't mean Salem was so insensitive that he would just turn a blind eye to someone in trouble, even if he was asked to do so.
"Are you crazy?" he asked, his voice rising slightly out of anger and frustration. It was a good thing that the door to their room was heavy and the walls made of concrete; there was little chance of being overheard this way. "I don't know if you've noticed it or not, but you were coughing up blood, mate. That's not normal!"
Of course, Salem was the last person who should be talking about what's normal and what's not. Last time he checked, being able to change the biological chemistry of one's body wasn't exactly normal. In fact, that was in the land of freakishly unnerving.
[Oliver's post soon to come, but for now I must go make pizza ninja ]
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Posted: Sun Dec 30, 2007 4:51 pm
((Yun-Ha seems to be about the most agreeable boy in all creation. Much <3 to him, Gbaby. <3))
Will shook his head again, his gaze slightly glazed but still highly determined. "I don't have TB or anything," he said hoarsly. That's what the people at the institute had thought he had until he had explained to them exactly why he had the coughing fits. Usually they just happened when he had been using his powers, but there were also those occasions when they were induced by stress for simply randomly. This time, it had been the stress of having his true appearance discovered by the person he would be living with for the next year.
"It's just... it's not as bad as it looks," he said slowly, a small, earnest frown tugging the corners of his lips down. He was weak but his grip had tightened on the other's shirt, the expression on his features firm. "And I told you... the school already knows... and they can't help...... had this for years and there's nothing anyone can do......" His breathing seemed to be steadying, slowing down to something rather more normal. He knew his words were true -- had it been an actual sickness then it might well have had some cure, but as it was all he could do was just bear with it. It was bad but he could handle it, as he had ever since his powers awakened.
"I'll be... fine...." he murmured. He finally let go of the other's shirt so that he could steady himself, hand falling to rest on the floor for a moment until finally, his movements shaky, he stood up. He did it very slowly and looked as if he could easily topple, but he managed it and was actually more stable than he looked. The fit was over and his strength was steadily returning -- much faster than it would have had it been a real sickness. He stumbled back into the bathroom, turning the water on quickly and washing away the blood. "Ughhnn...." He hated the scent of it, the look... the feel, everything. It made him feel sick....
[edit] My fried drew Willy for meeeeee. Isn't that just so unbelievably adorable? D: <3333
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Posted: Sun Dec 30, 2007 9:42 pm
Jamie put on her best politician face and gave a smile to the girl at the door. "Hi, you must be Angel. I'm Jamie." She held her hand out to the girl in a greeting. It wasn't nice to make enemies the first day of arriving, not to mention in a school filled with mutants.
It isn't nice to make enemies at all. The boy in her head scoffed.
Just shut up, douchebag.
In the school the IMDA took her to, everything was a game. Everyone was a pawn to everyone else, whether you were the king or queen or whatnot. Jamie had learned to be quite careful.
But this girl... She seemed nice enough. She seemed a tad bit confused, but her face wasn't lying about happiness, and if that was false... Well, that would make for quite the fun challenge, wouldn't it?
Jamie flushed a bit from her argument with Rory and the work going upstairs, "May I come in? I kind of want to get myself settled." Jamie thought a bit before adding anything. The best way to gain an ally was to put everything on the plate before anyone else did--or at least everything that was going to be put out anyways. It gave a show of some sort of honesty. "And as my roommate, fellow mutant, and person who is in the best position for watching me do anything, I kind of need to talk to you about my power. Just because I iknow weird things are going to happen." She laughed a bit and sold it with a smile.
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Posted: Wed Jan 09, 2008 4:46 pm
((Enter Pluto, the official weirdo! xD;; ))
Pale fingers brushed back through darkest ebony locks, lashes of the same coal shade flickering slowly above closed eyes of a brightest saphire. Pluto's figure was firm -- fit with out being overly muscular, lean without being overly thin. That figure was currently reclining against the back of the plush cushion in the backseat of a car, the pale arms folded gracefully back so that his hands rested, cupped, behind his head. All in all, it was a very pleasing sight -- that is, if anyone had been there to see it. But the only other figure in the car was the driver -- the upright, stiff countenance of a man dressed somberly in black. Pluto wore the same color -- a pair of very clean, slightly baggy and slightly faded black jeans and a white three-quarter sleeve shirt beneath a slightly fitted black shirt. The strong features of his face coupled with the his peaceful, yet calm, expression made him into a work of art. In short, Pluto was more than just attractive -- he was breath taking.
The car rolled slowly to a stop and the teen's eyes opened, bright saphire showing in high contrast to the deep black of his hair and the extreme paleness of his skin. He glanced over towards the driver, feeling quite thankful to feel no stirrings in his heart for the man. He'd already gone over that with the man and he didn't feel like repeating any such infatuation. It really did apal him just how easily his heart was moved by others. And it tended to bother others, as well, those most ended up finding it amusing and more than a few had found it flattering (at least while it lasted). Pluto opened the door slowly, bowing his head forward so that he could slip out without risk of bumping his head. He stood, finally, and glanced around himself, even those small movements showing an immense grace that was the result of natural tallent and flow as well as much learning and practice. So fine were his looks and so appealing were his movements that more than a few of the people around him, who were likewise arriving, had stopped to stare for several moments.
The driver had already gotten out, his movements equally practiced, but much less graceful because he had been trained for a different sort of movement. The bags were unloaded quickly unloaded upon the ground, but Pluto's gaze had long since drifted from the parcels. He was staring, transfixed, at the figure of a girl -- she was nice-looking but not particularly beautiful and she did not stand out in any way. Still, however, his gaze was held. The girl looked up slowly as she felt eyes upon her and flushed as her own dark brown hues met bright saphires. There were no thoughts in Pluto's mind -- simply a quick beating of the heart against his ribs. This feeling was all too familiar and yet he could not help himself. Actions filled with grace, his expression just as serious and beautiful as ever, he was in front of the girl in record speed, hands stretching out to gently clasp one of the girl's in his own as he lowered himself to one knee.
"Princess, I lo--" he began -- and it was quite obvious that he would have been easily capable of charming the girl -- before the hand of his escort came down upon the crown of his head. It wasn't hard enough a blow to really hurt, but as much as was needed to shock him back into his senses. He blinked slowly, saphire eyes clearing, his hands slowly slipping from the girl's as he stood up. Without skipping a single beat, he said, "Sorry, m'lady, but you are too beautiful... you reminded me so much of someone dear that I could not help myself. Can you forgive me?" His voice was sweet and low -- like syrup. The girl couldn't help but agree with Pluto. The dark-haired teen smiled -- an expression that sent all on-looking girls (and perhaps several guys) into swooning fits. How could anyone resist such an obvious Prince Charming?
Pluto retreated gracefully, murmuring a small "thank you" to the escort as they walked. Truly, he had become very adept -- too adept -- at covering up those times, but he still found it highly embarrassing. Once he reached his bags, Pluto, who neither needed nor possessed a great amount of luggage, shouldered all his bags. He was strong, at least. He smiled at the escort -- some small token of grattitude for he, though kind enough, did not smile all that often -- and then saluted before turning away to go to his dormitory. After slipping his way through the crowd outside, he made his way to the stairwelll. The sixth floor... ehh, he could probably make it. There seemed to a long line for the elevator, anyway.
By the time he made it all the way to his room, he wasn't in all that bad of shape. A normal person likely would have been, but Pluto (though he did not look it) had been built strong. He set his things down and immediately began to unpack. All his luggage had been packed away neatly so there really wasn't much to do. He was done within only a few minutes. Pluto stepped back and surveyed the room, a small smile lighting his lips. It was just the way he liked it -- clean. He just hoped that whoever his roommate was, it would be someone with common sense -- and someone who was sanitary. Pluto, as the son of a maid and a butler, quite naturally hated messes. They simply annoyed him to no end.
Feeling that his work within the room was finished, he decided to go exploring. He didn't have far to go. Down at the end of the hall was a vending machine. Feeling thirsty, he pulled out some coins from his pocket and quickly purchased a soda. He tapped the top to make the bubbles die down before he snapped it open and then began to drink. He hadn't seen much of anyone on this floor yet -- maybe all the action was happening below? But for now it'd likely be best to stay away from too many people since he could so easily fall for one of them.
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Posted: Sun Jan 27, 2008 5:03 am
((is this RP still continuing? Because Isent in a profile for my character but... it doesn't seem like a very popular RP anymore)
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