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 Posted: Mon Sep 13, 2010 2:57 pm
The eternally October sky overhead was cast with suitably depressing dark clouds, counterpoint to Altair's stormy mood ever since he'd been shipped off to Amityville High in spite of his insistence that he didn't need to go to school. The first few days of classes had grated on his nerves unpleasantly, and the haughty demon was beginning the semester by doing as little as demonically possible to scrape by with a passing mark. At the moment, that meant he was doing absolutely nothing academic in nature besides placing his body in the classrooms at the appointed times, and was dragging his heels on the other requirements all students were demanded to fulfill. It wouldn't last, but while he could, he was going to milk it.
Altair was far more interested in the other students at Amityville, though as a matter of course, he hadn't strayed far from his own kind. The incubus had lived a spectacularly insular life so far, nurtured and socialized in demonic high society, and encountering lesser beings in closer quarters than ever before came with its own set of quirks and hazards, mental and environmental. Navigating the hallways populated by so many different beings was an exercise by itself, but Altair walked along as if he owned the place and kept his tail far from the ground and clawed or rotted feet, managing with as much dignity as possible to make his way to the cafeteria.
Of course, Altair didn't need to eat in any physical sense, but the cafeteria was where the highest concentration of students could be found-- and with them, all of those delicious emotions to feed off of. The incubus quite liked sifting through all of the varied feeling and finding the 'tastiest' one to pursue, and he scanned the large room with keen golden eyes, all species under consideration.
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Posted: Fri Sep 17, 2010 6:05 pm
The cafeteria was indeed bustling with students, nearly the entirety of the school funneling in the doors to the great hall, chatting amongst themselves and clamoring for food. They were half starved, didn't you know -- it was just plain torture for the teachers to keep them locked up for most of the day and only feed them once! Well, once during school hours, anyway. Breakfast and dinner didn't count, they weren't working then. Schoolwork was tiring business, they needed sustenance! Unluckily, that seemed to be a trend for the teachers, and they likely wouldn't feed them at all, except they were responsible for their wellbeing. Couldn't teach the dead, now could you? Well, actually...
The sounds of voices echoed off the walls as the hall began to fill up, students of every different shape and size making their way to their respective tables. The demons with the demons, the monsters with the monsters, the nerds with the nerds and the jocks with the jocks and the fearleaders with the fearleaders. The smell of food also wafted through the air, seeping out from under the door to the kitchen, a mixture of death and blood and brains, of rats and slugs and who knew what else. They had to feed an entire school's worth of different creatures, each with their own distinct, (and sometimes picky,) eating habits. They all lined up behind the buffet, leaning in a bit to get a good smell of the amorphous glops of food that use to be... other things, pointing at what they wanted so the lunch ladies could slap some on their orange trays. Of course, it didn't bother Nuk. Still, standing in the line, staring at the pink and grey and red and black globs, he turned his devilish smirk to the lunch ladies, asking them (for the third day in a row) why this heart (he knew it was heart) didn't look like a heart. They responded curtly as they had the last two days -- it couldn't look like anything, that would be rude.
Well of course it couldn't look like anything -- wouldn't want to offend any of the students, or put them off their lunch. He was just being difficult. As usual.
A tray of puree'd food propped on one palm, Nukpana sauntered through the crowded hall, weaving between tables with a swagger that would have put any demon to shame. All warranted, of course. In the past week or so they'd been back, the skinwalker had already effectively established his general ranking within their year, both through petty physical violence and growled threats. Almost all with a smirk plastered on his face. It was with that same smirk that he finally half-tossed his tray down onto a nearly empty table that had been specifically reserved for the soon-to-be football team, his shape immediately shifting. A black wolf stood in his stead, muscles rippling beneath fur as he leaped onto the seating bench, large enough to support even the most gargantuan of creatures.
He loved doing that.
Extending his tongue, Nuk leaned his now canine head low towards the tray, dragging it over the top of the his slop.
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Sat Sep 18, 2010 11:20 am
While Nuk surveyed the wide field of options for those creatures that took their food physically, Altair felt through the throngs of students, sifting through the various flavors of mood and fleeting emotion. It was a veritable smorgasbord of feeling, as active and turbulent as the surface of the sun, encompassing Altair as he sashayed through the crowd. Already he felt revitalized from the boring morning of classes, but he had an itch that needed scratching, and one of these creatures must have what he was in the mood for. He hated it when he was hungry but didn't know what he wanted!
He did know that he wasn't in the mood for the heavy, full-bodied flavor of doom and gloom, so he gave a group of particularly somber ghosts a wide berth. His own kind did not attract him today; they were easy to find, the bulk of them keeping to their own space in the cafeteria, emanating a choking cloud of superiority that soaked beyond the area they'd claimed. The sickly-sweet taste licking at his senses from a mixed group of undead, some not-terrible looking monsters, and even a lone Reaper huddled around their own table, was nearly enough to tempt him. He smirked to himself as he turned towards them, pleased at the thought of making some tasty new friends.
Then he caught wind of something even more intriguing, a strange yet subtly delicious flavor of pure ego. His eyes fell on a particular monster that carried himself with arrogance better reserved for those of higher breeding. That cocky attitude didn't diminish one bit, Altair thought, as the humanoid figure under his inspection changed into the form of a black wolf, arching an eyebrow high. He didn't know what manner of creature it must be; he had never tasted anything like this before. He would know a shapeshifter. It must be a rare breed. Altair loved exotic.
The incubus didn't even give the group he'd been eying before a backward glance as he turned to saunter over to Nuk's table, for a moment finding his manner of eating absolutely disgusting. But then he remembered that this was a monster, so of course it was disgusting. He could look past minor faults like that, if they were tasty enough, and Nuk was indeed more and more delicious the closer he came. Altair did not ask permission to sit as he perched primly on the bench across from the skinwalker, instead settling as if he owned the table, glancing down at the slop (there was no other word for it) that Nuk was eating, watching him drag his tongue over the puree'd meat with more amusement edging in than disgust.
"Mm, quite a tongue there. I see you like licking up your meat," he smirked at him, unable to resist needling that ego a little bit, and offering no introduction, no name, none of the usual pleasantries he'd extend. He sensed an ego that matched his own, and part of him wanted to play with this creature, as often as his father had snapped at him to not play with his food.
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