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 Posted: Thu Nov 11, 2010 11:12 am
It took a moving crew to get him in. Harrow had too many things: his own ancient, claw-footed bedframe; a mahogany desk that looked aged the better part of a century but still in pristine condition; an ornate brass-and-silver full-sized mirror; boxes and stand up boxes and crates and dressers full of clothing; paper goods and school supplies and finally the containers that housed his scraptop and computing tools.
And he didn't help one bit.
Now that the two hulking monsters were done, putting their truck back together and trundling away down the road with his room upstairs put together as nicely as could be, Harrow sat on the steps outside of the Reaper dorm and squinted at the rest of the campus, his mouth just a little pinched.
Across his knees was a rectangular bag made of some dark leather, shiny and smooth. The shape, coupled with the strap that swung up over his shoulder, coupled with the little hanging furry charm off to one side, might have left some people tossing around the word 'purse' in amused tones of voice. Harrow, however, would be the first to explain that since it held papers, a very expensive scraptop, pens and a dayplanner, it was a briefcase.
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Posted: Fri Nov 12, 2010 5:36 pm
It was highly unfortunate for Harrow that two of the school's well-known bullies had decided to walk past the Reaper dorm just as the movers had started arriving with his furniture. It was an unlikely occurrence for both of them, actually, seeing as neither Nuk nor Tristan were Reapers, and therefore usually hung out around either the monster or demon dorm -- in fact, it was merely the chance of boredom that had brought them away from their usual hangouts to saunter around the campus. For Harrow, it could be considered just plain bad luck. It could easily be considered unfortunate for them to meet the ... well-kept Reaper at any point, (especially if he was carrying around his briefcase at the time,) but for them to have appeared at the very moment the entire contents of Harrow's no doubt elegant room to be unloaded, where the world (and more importantly, two bullies) to see?
Well that was just plain bad luck.
Moving just out of the way of the moving men, the two stood on the grass outside the Reaper dorm, watching as every last item was moved into the dorm, each item more expensive and ... elegant looking than the last. At first, they just watched, their heads swiveling at near identical speeds as they eyed the stuff, at first just intrigued. But as time went on, there was more and more whispering and snickering between the two, the words 'girl' and 'hot' lingering in the air just within hearing of anyone close enough to them. In the end, bets had been made about whether or not it was a girl who owned all this expensive stuff, and a few playful punches thrown as well.
And then, joy of joys, the geek who owned the stuff came out. And it was a dude.
Smirking broadly, Nuk elbowed his friend in the side, nudging his head in Harrow's direction before heading in that direction, hands shoved in his pockets. He paused only when they were standing right in front of the steps the poor guy was seated, clearly eying the scraptop and reminding himself that he was now on the Student Council, and therefore could not steal and/or break it. Really, he wasn't supposed to be mean at ALL, but there was no way in hell THAT was going to happen. Or... not happen. Still... Public Relations meant he should introduce himself to newbies, right? He was just doing his duty. And Trist was his bro. They were being friendly, honest.
Lifting his eyebrows in a highly skeptical manner, Nuk stared down at Harrow with a devilish grin. "Hey Reaper, what's with the purse? You're a dude." There was a pause, and the skinwalker's grin faded just slightly as he stared for a second at the very.... ...nice-looking Reaper, as if giving this comment a second thought, ".... aren't you?"
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Fri Nov 12, 2010 7:14 pm
Unlucky Indeed. If today were any indicator as to how luck would play in the reaper's newly-made home in the Academy and life within its grimy walls, it could be very well mistaken for a passage from A Series of Incredibly Unfortunate and Dire Circumstances by Lemony Snickered, as far as the devious duo were concerned. Despite being first years themselves, in their minds they were truly the kings of the schoolyard, emblazoned by the very jackets that they proudly wore every day of the week (though sadly, Nukpana's would be in constant overshadow by his collection of pelts). They owned the dorms and the students that paced through their halls, and one new kid wasn't about to slip past them.
And how could he, with all that beautiful furniture? Tristan was certainly impressed by the tastes this anonymous youth held, and was quick to jab at his partner with a stray elbow to get his attention. "Look at all this stuff," He whispered as they made themselves comfortable on the unkempt lawn. The skinwalker did not show the same enthusiasm for an old bedframe, though that hardly mattered when a wager was set: the owner must be a girl, thought the wolf demon. It was a shame that such beautiful wooden creations were wasted on the likes of a reaper, albeit a cute one, too.
Or so was his train of thought, anyway. One quick jab and a smirk from Nuk told him otherwise, and in good spirit (though with a few grumbles), he reached into his pocket and took out a few coins to hand his friend. "He must be the only boy in the family, how else could you explain all this?" Was his final quip before the two of them rounded on Harrow, taking up his usual leaning stance against the wall.
"And don't say that it's a satchel, either, that never makes it any better."
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Posted: Sun Nov 14, 2010 6:13 pm
Only child seemed like a reasonable assumption: lots of expensive goods, an assumption that people were there to help him, unwillingness to put in the elbow grease, and the quiet way that he sat to himself. It was cancelled out, however, by the way he responded to the approaching students. The twitch had an edge to it that both were likely familiar with, his shoulders hiking up and arms curling protectively around his scraptop bag like he knew where this was going.
"Um." It wasn't exactly clever. Harrow blinked up at the pair of them and floundered for some kind of clever retort, his eyes big and dark and somewhat confused. When he finally did speak, it was meek. Pitiful. And he knew it. "Briefcase, um, actually."
His eyes flashed from one of them to the other and he stood up quickly, tugging on the hem of his vest as he did, fighting the urge to adjust his cravat. "Am I in your way?"
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