Welcome to Gaia! ::

John was shocked when the boy spoke and he looked shocked, since his jaw dropped. "Oh, right. Yes, I can help you with your bags. Sorry, I...I just assumed that you were. Anyway, my name's John.". Said John, as he straightened up and grabbed Mr. Mark's bag. He wasn't sure if he should call him Landon or Mr. Mark. Since, John wasn't ever going to be taking any art classes he decided he would call the guy Landon. Especially since the kid was two whole feet smaller then him. Was this child or just a very small adult?

John wasn't sure if he should ask about the age. He decided he would just ask where the guy was heading. He did find it amusing the short stop was calling him a kid. "So where are you heading Landon. Some art room? I know my place around this Academy pretty well. It's my sixth year, I'm going to be graduating soon. But that's a different story for another time. So do you like books? I'm a writer, that's my specialty." John smiled as he talked, although he didn't still know the guy's age. He still acted like he would around a child. Just in case, he didn't want to scare Landon off.

John was surprised this boy seemed to read his thoughts. But he listened intently as he walked. Once they arrived John set down the art supplies on the nearest table. He then examined the newly renovated room. It was nice and a part of John regretted he did not know how to draw. John was admiring the art work on the walls when Landon asked John about the tours. If John didn't know any better the kid, well adult who looked like a child was asking to hang out. John smiled and said, "Sure I don't mind. In fact if your ever free we can grab lunch together some time." Said John, he didn't mind being friends with this small but cute art teacher.

When Landon mentioned his grandfather John almost screamed like a fan girl from excitement. "No way! I love Mr. Marks. I read all his books. His use of imagery and personification is something to revival Robert Frost! Of course Marks doesn't receive nearly as much credit as he deserves. Too many critics think recent authorship is too repetitive. But I don't believe that. I wrote an entire scholarly paper on Mr. Mark's book How the Wind Blows. Anyway I will see you around Landon. I have to get to class, before I'm late. Bye! Pleasure meeting you." Said John, with one last wave goodbye. He left the classroom then and looked around. Should he grab breakfast are just run to class?

Morticai Piper Jameson

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Morticai ran, as though he were running for his very life, headphones threatening to abandon him and cast him into the mess of cluttered noises erupting from the emptying hallway. Locker's slamming shut and shoes shuffling across marble floor. Twisting of faces, couple's secretly mingling in corners their pecks and nibbles echoing to their content.

Piper rushed past the music class, shutting his eyes tight, longing to shut out the desire to be there along with them. But his parent's only exception to letting him join art school, was that he had to study vigorously the art of literature. He didn't mind it at all, for the subject was fascinating down to the core, and Pip was such a devoted writer. He just wished that he could study some of his other passions for a little while. Like theatre and music!

Morticai stopped short, for only a moment, to ponder on the collision before him. Women, could any of them manage five steps without some sort of accident? Piper was just glad it wasn't him in that wreck. How embarrassing that would be! He straightened his bow tie and smiled. So maybe it wasn't a female thing...just an art student thing

Art Student...the words filled Piper with such happiness he could just about burst! Containment behind bones were all that kept the male from doing just that. He often let out the built up excitement in music. Singing at the top of his lungs and pressing limbs against walls to jot down sentences onto paper, jumbled words that made hardly any sense until morphed into a genius piece of creative writing. Creative writing. That was his subject of expertise, so claims his applications.

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Morticai Piper Jameson

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Ow Ow Ow! Morticai rubbed his head. Yeah, definitely an art student thing. He had gotten distracted by thinking of how great it was to be in this school, and hadn't even seen the girl run smack into him! The boy had to remind himself that his inner monologues did not make him any less susceptible to collisions. It could have been worse. At least in this situation he shared the embarrassment.

There had been occasions where Piper had zoned out, drifted off into his imagination and was only abruptly shoved back when a, usually yelling, voice asked him what in the hell he was talking about. He couldn't even count how many times he had apologized to a door, or a wall, or a locker, even a water fountain that he had flipped over once.

He smiled softly and tossled his hair. "Not a problem at all miss" He spoke politely and--what was that look? Jeez, if looks could kill. Piper blinked his soft brown eyes. What was she looking for? The boy lifted his foot and bent over to pick up a sheet of paper. He could perfectly read every line of the sheet music, and smiled at the thought. "I am Morticai Jameson..but please, call me Pip." Pip hopped up from off the ground and dusted himself off. OH! and of course, checked and straightened his bow tie. Bow ties are cool.

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Morticai Piper Jameson

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Morticai nodded, and respected how the woman composed herself. It was a trait his parent's would approve of. A proper poised woman or gentleman was as rare as unicorns in modern society, so thought the Jameson family. Piper was no stranger to this belief and accepted it openly. He prided himself on his gentlemen's demeanor. Hopefully this had been evident in his recollection of himself, post collision.

Piper tucked his hands behind him and bowed slightly, showing his gratitude for the introduction. "Such a great pleasure meeting you, Miss Jones." He spoke before adding his own personal charm. "You've certainly made quite the impression, my dear. Perhaps our next encounter we can just discuss interests. Over coffee? I'll treat you sometime, it's the least i can do. Just let me know when you'd like"

Poor Pip, the girl probably already had the wrong impression of him. He wasn't in any way trying to skeez up on her. If anything he just wanted someone to talk music with! Maybe she would understand that much, being a musician herself.

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Cain continued to make his way through the halls, scrapping his feet along the ground as he walked. The only thing he carried was a sketch pad, a pencil, and an eraser. It was a steel pencil with fine lead. He had grown fond of it because he wouldn't have to worry about it becoming dull. Was he late? Probably. He didn't have a watch on him and he forgot his phone in his locker. He didn't really care that much though since he wasn't expecting any calls.

Cain's copper eyes darted around as he continued to look about the hall searching for the correct room number. He figured he was probably lost too since it looked like he was in the music section of the building. No matter, he was sure that he'd end up where he needed to go eventually. He put a hand in one pocket. Oh, that's right, he still had the black marker in his pocket. He felt its smooth surface with his fingers. Why did he bring it anyway? He didn't think he'd need it.

Almost there? Cain wondered as he saw the musical instruments and sheet music give way to canvases, tapestries, and sculptures. He must be getting closer. The halls seemed quiet, still, and empty. He assumed he probably was late. At least he was almost there.