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 Posted: Mon Nov 09, 2009 7:25 pm
English homework sucked.
Sébastien glared daggers at the papers in front of him, hoping that if he stared at them long enough they would just spontaneously combust. The assignment had seemed easy at the time – how hard was it to write an essay on one of the great Shakespearean tragedies? – but the French boy had severely underestimated the bard. Archaic English had proven to be even more difficult than regular English. With all the thou's and thee's it was enough to make him wonder if the man had done this on purpose just to piss the French people off. After all, everyone knew that the French and the English were long-standing enemies. Clearly this was some form of torture intended to "put the French people in their place" as it were. It was this sentiment alone that had convinced Sébastien to actually do the essay rather than pretend his neighbour's cat had eaten it. If anyone was going to show his English teacher that French people were far better than the English it would be him.
Unfortunately, while he did not lack enthusiasm, he most certainly lacked talent. Thus, there he was, in the back corner of the study room, surrounded by numerous crumpled sheets of paper and stacks of Shakespeare tragedies. He would write this essay even if it killed him! With renewed determination he stopped trying to burn the paper with his eye laser beams and grabbed a nearby pen.
"To be or not to be," he wrote at the top of his newest piece of lined paper, and then added a couple of extra periods for a dramatic pause. Now what to write?
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Posted: Mon Nov 09, 2009 8:21 pm
"Bonjour, Sebby," caroled Elke as she skipped into the first floor study space. It wasn't that she was looking for Avery. Of course not! She'd had a feeling, a feeling like someone needed her. And, looking at the papers, and then to Sebastien - Papers. Sebastien - she knew she had been quite correct.
She dropped her bag in another chair at the same table. "What's up," she asked in French, "Are you writing a paper? The one for English, yes?" Elke had no accent in French. She had learned French as her first language. Her French accent in other languages was abominable for the first few months she spoke it. That's why she always wanted to learn from a native speaker. That way she'd lose the accent really fast.
Shifting to stare at the paper, she asked (still in French, of course!) "Writing a paper on the Bard?"
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Posted: Tue Nov 10, 2009 9:16 am
The boy cringed inwardly, not at the French but at the sound of his beautiful name so unbeautifully bastardized. Why oh why had he agreed to let Elke call him that? It had probably been because she’d looked like he’d kicked her favourite puppy when he told her she couldn’t. Yeah, that had probably been it. He was already starting to regret it.
“Not so loud!” He hissed in French when Elke joined him at the table. Sébastien most certainly did not want other people thinking they had the right to give him nicknames. He was extremely proud of his full name, thank you very much, and he wasn’t about to let just anyone shorten it into some English variation. But he didn’t have time to dwell on nicknames, as Elke had already changed the subject to his very frustrating English paper.
“I was told the Bard would be the easiest because there was the most material on him.” He couldn’t help but sulk a little at the poor advice he’d been given. “Apparently they think that this counts as English and I should care about what he wrote. It’s stupid!” Ranting about it in French did make him feel a little better, he had to admit, especially to someone who understood. It wasn’t nearly as effective when the person you were ranting to spent the whole time trying to mime to you that they didn’t speak French.
“But you have started yours already, no? What did you pick?”
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Posted: Tue Nov 10, 2009 1:44 pm
"OK," said Elke, hunkering down to speak very quietly. She settled her chin in her hands, which were flat against the table. "Are you mad at me?" She didn't want Sebby to get mad at her; the kicked puppy look came back, but only a little bit. Of course he wasn't mad, but she wanted him to tell her that he wasn't mad so she could be absolutely sure.
She was being very quiet. "Yeah, the Bard is kind of hard," she agreed sympathetically. "I'm writing about Mary Shelley. The books are so funny!" Elke patted his hand, then resettled herself. "I can help, if you want. I'm good at English." The only reason she stole Terrence's notes was because she was too lazy to take her own damn notes.
"You seem irritated," added Elke. "Wanna go work outside?"
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Posted: Tue Nov 10, 2009 3:10 pm
Oooh no. Why was she looking at him like that? It wasn't fair to use that look against him!"Of course not! I am just… trying not to disturb the others who are studying with us." Sébastien was a horrible liar, but he did his best to look like he was telling the truth. He just wanted the kicked puppy look to go away!
"Are you? Maybe I should have picked her instead." But it was too late to change the subject now. He would just have to trundle through his pathetic excuse for a language and pretend he understood what the plays were about. They French boy didn't think he could fool his English teacher into believing he'd read and understood the plays if he couldn't even summarize the plot properly. Sébastien's face list up when Elke offered to help him, a bright grin replacing his pout. "Would you? I would be forever in your debt!"
At the mention of going outside he shrugged. "Do you find it helps you to work outside?" It didn't make a difference to him, but he was happy to go wherever Elke was going, especially since she was going to be helping him. He had forgotten her gift with languages.
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Posted: Tue Nov 10, 2009 4:24 pm
"You can tell me if you're mad at me," wheedled Elke, "I won't get mad..."
She nodded, then reached out to grab one of the books Sebastien was reading. "I'll read it to you, if you want? It's really easy once you get the hang of it." The blue-haired girl ran her finger down a line of text. It was Hamlet; she hadn't read it before, but she knew the story well enough.
Then Elke shrugged, her green eyes lidding slightly as she read ahead. "Not really. It's just pretty out today." She smiled up at Sebastien. "The sunshine is very bright. It makes me happy."
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Posted: Wed Nov 11, 2009 3:57 pm
The French boy waved his hand dismissively, eager to get off the topic of his current irritation. If he didn't talk about being angry with Elke then he could pretend that he wasn't. Besides, it wasn't like he was angry angry. He was just mildly irritated. There was a big difference, mainly in the presence or absence of stomping feet.
"Easy! Pah! It's only easy to people who are good with languages like you." But that was precisely why Sébastien had friends who were smarter than he was. When the going got tough, he could always rely on them to help him with whatever they found easy. It was a win-win situation. "If the sunshine makes you happy then of course we'll go outside. The lighting will be better." With a grin he scooped up his writing supplies and his Hamlet novel.
"Ready whenever you are! You pick the spot."
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Posted: Wed Nov 11, 2009 6:16 pm
She smiled, pleased that at least he seemed relatively not angry. Nothing to worry about! "Mais non! You speak English and French, you're good with languages." Picking up her bag again, she led the way outside - there was a shady tree right there. She settled in among the roots, bookbag set tight by her side. "Pass me the book, Sebastien, let's see how this goes."
With an expectant look, she held out her hands for Hamlet. She liked the idea of Hamlet, just hadn't ever gotten around to reading it.
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Posted: Thu Nov 12, 2009 6:04 pm
He couldn't help but wrinkle his nose at the mention of speaking English. "I speak it alright. But I don't like to, and everyone always says I speak funny, so I don't think I'm good with languages. Just good with French. But that's okay. I would rather by good at speaking French than speaking English." Sébastien puffed up his chest proudly. It really was a pity that English was on its way to being the universal language. He would have been so much happier if it had been French.
The French boy followed his friend outside and settled next to her in the roots, making sure the grass wasn't wet before he sat. When Elke asked for the book he gave it to her obediently, before leaning back on his hands to listen. "Whenever you're ready. I'm afraid I didn't get very far in the play."
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Posted: Sat Nov 14, 2009 9:44 am
"Don't say that," said Elke stubbornly, "You speak just fine. I was worse than you when I first got to America, you know. All you have to do is keep your chin up and practice!" Now she had almost no accent at all! It just took practice. This was an argument she had with many people, many times, but she knew how to get to Sebby--an appeal to his Frenchliness.
"Didn't Voltaire say "Each player must accept the cards life deals him or her: but once they are in hand, he or she alone must decide how to play the cards in order to win the game"? You're here at Barren Pines now, so make the best of it for Mother France!" She opened Hamlet to the marked page. This was an argument she could make even while reading about suicidal Danes.
"MARCELLUS: Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy,
And will not let belief take hold of him
Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us:
Therefore I have entreated him along
With us to watch the minutes of this night;
That if again this apparition come,
He may approve our eyes and speak to it-"
Elke frowned. "This is hard to translate into French," she complained, then she went back to work.
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Posted: Sun Nov 15, 2009 4:33 pm
Sébastien made a face, but he didn't say anything else. Truth be told, he liked his French accent. It reminded people where he'd come from, and that was good enough for him. He would turn up his nose at anyone who said that speaking English with an accent was distasteful. People butchered his native tongue all the time. Why shouldn't he get a chance to do the same?
His face brightened, however, when she mentioned Voltaire, and then went on to talk about Mother France. Ah, Voltaire! A wonderful French philosopher (among other things)! He seemed to glow a little at the mention of such a well-known person from his homeland. Elke definitely seemed to know exactly how to improve his mood, and he was smiling again by the time she started reading out of Hamlet.
When she paused, he waved his hand to signal that he had a question, barely waiting for her to notice before he asked, "So they are seeing a ghost, yes? Or they think they see a ghost? And what does this Horatio say about it? These English use very strange metaphors."
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Posted: Wed Nov 18, 2009 8:02 pm
She paused and looked up at Sebastien. This was probably why she called him Sebby - he acted like her little brother. Admittedly, his name was very very French, for some weird reason, even though 'Elke' was native Manx name. She nodded and answered, "Oui, they're seeing a ghost. The ghost of Hamlet's papa, I think, if I'm reading it right. They're like, 'Hello we are seeing a ghost but Horatio doesn't believe it's there, he says we're just getting drunk all the time or maybe we're sleep deprived' and Horatio's like, 'I don't see a ghost, guys' and they're like 'DUDE LOOK HERE IT COMES!'"
The intensely scholarly and doubtless important explanation completed, she returned her gaze to the book. "BERNARDO
Sit down awhile;
And let us once again assail your ears,
That are so fortified against our story
What we have two nights seen.
HORATIO
Well, sit we down,
And let us hear Bernardo speak of this.
BERNARDO
Last night of all,
When yond same star that's westward from the pole
Had made his course to illume that part of heaven
Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself,
The bell then beating one,--"
"Basically, Bernardo's all 'Fine I will tell you about this ghost' and Horatio's like 'fiiiiiiinnneee whatever if you've GOTTA' and Bernardo's like 'so about this time last night Marcellus and I saw a ghost and OMG THERE IT IS!'" Elke looked at Sebastien very seriously.
"Spoiler: The Ghost appears."
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Posted: Sun Nov 22, 2009 4:20 pm
"Ooooooh." Suddenly the introduction to the play made so much more sense. "I don't understand why he can't just say that!" He continued, already scrunching his nose again. "This Shakespeare makes everything ten million times more complicated with his funny language. I am surprised people actually went to his plays. I would not pay to listen to someone babbly in nonsense language." Now if only he could convince his English teacher of this. Then he wouldn't have to write this essay.
Elke was continuing on, and he stopped to listen, pleased when she not only translated the text from English to French but then into common terminology. The sentence structure was definitely starting to bother him, and he was only too glad to listen to Elke's "scholarly" interpretation of the play. Sébastien tipped his head when her expression turned serious, before realizing that she was making a joke. He tried not to grin as he put on his best shocked expression.
"No way! I would never have known!" The French boy put a hand over his open mouth in 'surprise.' "And do they all see the ghost? I would have thought it would be invisible to some or something."
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Posted: Sun Nov 22, 2009 8:34 pm
Elke considered this. "Well, for this time period I guess he kind of was talking like that? And we just think it's all weird because we don't speak like this ourselves. You know??" She laughed at Sebastien's antics with her brightest smile, turned the page, and went through the next few lines of text. Then, since it was pretty dense, she translated again into Real People Language:
"They're all, 'Doesn't it look like the king?' and Horatio's like 'DUDE THAT IS SOME CRAZY STUFF!!' and they're like 'yeah didn't we say so?'"
You know, Hamlet was pretty depressing. Elke frowned a little and looked down the page. "I guess they all see the ghost," she said, thinking on her own recent 'supernatural' experiences. "That is weird though!"
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Posted: Tue Nov 24, 2009 9:08 am
Sébastien stared at Elke, his jaw hanging open in clear shock. “So wait… you’re saying people actually spoke English like this on a regular basis?!” Why would anyone in their right mind do that? All of this rhyming and iambic pentameter or whatever their teacher had called it. It was a waste of breath! Not to mention the fact that everything was all about metaphors and similes and generally making things ten million times more complicated than it actually was. Clearly everyone should have just learned French and been done with it. It would have saved them a lot of trouble.
He was forced to shush again when Elke continued on with her interpretation of the text, the French boy jotting down a couple of notes in French on the side of his notebook. So they’d seen a ghost and it looked like the king. Why had they spent so long talking about it? “So the King is important, right? Why is he dead? And why is he hanging around the castle at night so drunken Englishman can see him?” Was this some kind of English ghost thing?
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