Persona . A God Without a Name

[NPC]

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((OOC: And so it begins.

I'd like to state some ground rules before anything else:

1 -- All general SPPf rules apply.
2 -- Bunnying is unallowed. I may have to, in some cases, make your character fall unconscious or something to that effect for the sake of plot, but you'll be informed before it happens.
3 -- Be cohesive. It's of course first priority to stay in character, but we don't want to abandon players to act largely by themselves when other groups have formed. It's not fun for the one who has to write everything alone.
4 -- If you're going to post, put effort into it. I'd rather wait a day or two more for your post than to read something half-baked.
5 -- For now, I will begin every new day with an opening post, once the previous day is over. This may (probably will) change later, but for now we'll have it like that.
6 -- Shideneyu and Tempus Fugit are mods as well. Follow what they say.

And of course, enjoy yourselves. I really hope this turns out awesome.))

"I don't think I can do this anymore."

That was all he needed. He took it in as if it were a breath of fresh air, the glitter of dew on a rose; a declaration of love. It truly was what she had been thinking all this time. It was a poisonous affair and nothing good could come from it. He would have to take it into his own hands.

"I know how important this is..."

Obvious hesitation.

"... Really, I do. And I want to go through with it."

Of course she did. Her sense of justice was overpowering. Who could abandon the chance to right so many of the world's wrongs? More importantly, who could abandon an adventure?

"It's okay."

"I'm not done. Besides, that's not true."

People didn't seem to believe him when he tried to reassure them. It seemed too impossible and overbearing to be okay. Ever since the secret had broken through, everyone's eyes had shifted to that glazed-over state of pity for the condemned, which he despised but understood. The only person who still looked at him like a human being and not a dog about to be sacrificed was Francis. He got him, as much as he could be gotten.

"I can't... Force... myself to do this..."

He would now tune out of her speech, which was more an exploration of her own, troubled feelings than an honest apology or a confession of her true thoughts. Instead, he delved into what this revelation had done for him. It sounded stupid or predictable, but it really did open his eyes to several things. He had always been an oddball, but with this, he may just come full circle through crazy and all the way to genius.

After all--Love mused--not everyone remembers the most important details of life. Lost in a world of fleeting entertainment and wealth-amassing, it was normal for some of them to lose sight of their goals and destiny. Destiny was a funny word to use, but it was correct. Some people don't remember that they're meant to be heroes. Some people don't remember that they affect the world on a daily basis. And nobody ever remembers that one day they will die.

"... So that's it. I-I don't have anything more to say about it.

"Goodbye."

P​

E​

R​

S​

O​

N​

A​

A God Without a Name.

...​

"We hunt together.

Everything in this land belongs to us. It was given to us in ancestral times by our common father, who is not a father at all, but rather the beast that spawned us; our strange breed. We own everything but hold no property. It simply lies all around us and spans endlessly. We do not enslave the salmon that leaps or the bear that swallows it. We do not condemn ourselves for then hunting this bear, as he hunted one of ours, and we held the ceremony to send him off to the maker.

We hold these lands by right and enjoy them in their freedom. One cannot own the beauty of wind caressing grass blades, the vanishing heat of a shot deer's body, the cycle that folds and unfolds itself every day in these lands. We simply relish in what we have been given, as a band of brothers and sisters. There is no beginning or end to it; we simply are, and are satisfied.

This is the true spirit of life. To know that we form part of a much greater, cosmic chain does not trouble our minds, but rather enriches our souls. To know that our importance to this chain is as great as that of the mosquito or the mother mountain is both humbling and flattering. As we are born and raised together, as we laugh and wash together, as we love together and die together, the forest forever expands--"

A jolt of pure, television-esque static burst through his frontal lobe and ripped its way through the feeble web of dreams that his brain had begun to weave, destroying it in an intangible instant. He woke up with the shock of this jolt, cold sunlight pouring in through the blinds and onto his face, and his ears began to function only milliseconds later, instantly registering the deafening ring of his alarm clock, which was, indeed, the uninvited trespasser of his midnight excursions into a mysterious land of green pastures and men who seemed to speak with wisdom. He had been having such monologue dreams for a few days in a row now, and each time he grew more and more interested in what they had to say, and--

Today he had to go to school. Jesus Christ.

September 3 / 2008
The First Day of School​

"So how's this whole getting up business going for ya?"

Stefan Colgozt, age sixteen, junior, interested in various traditionally masculine things, currently in the middle of changing from a pajama shirt to a school button-up one, glared at his father leaning on the frame of his room's door. Feebly, he responded to the leer by knocking jokingly on the door, as if acknowledging his own rudeness were funny.

"I'm gettin' there."

"Hah, alright. Listen, since today's your first day and all, I really don't mind driving you there. You can take the subway starting tomorrow, and all."

Now somewhat more concentrated on the quest for school-appropriate shoes, Stefan only listened to his father with the mild degree of attention that one employs to put food in one's mouth while watching television. He was an arthropod buzzing in the distance, the buzz becoming alternately more and less tolerable, occasionally stinking of incense, but always stirring a desire to swat it in the very back of his head. Nonetheless, he was overreacting, and he had also found his shoes, and now moved on to the procedure of putting them on, during which he could register what his father was saying with a slightly higher degree of interest.

He took a moment to answer--not because he was considering whether he wanted to test his already-strained relationship with his father or go through the bothersome trip that is getting to Flemming on foot, but rather because he hadn't been listening to him.

"... Yeah, sure, if you can do that."

A lazy grin of surrender inched its way out of the left edge of Dad's mouth, making itself barely noticeable under the beard-mat that he had allowed to run free over his face for the last weeks.

"Cool. See you in the kitchen in ten minutes."

In the few minutes of reflection that putting on one's uniform allows to the mind, Stefan considered various topics to peruse. His father was rejected quickly. He moved on to the contents of his previous dreams, but for some reason they troubled him and his brain hesitated to revisit what seemed to be a particularly hazy section of his psyche. Thus, he began to think of his grandfather, German shepherds, what cereal he would eat, and other inconsequential things.

***​

Traffic in Manhattan wasn't as terrible as it should be today, but the particularly grim weather--sky gray like a donkey's underbelly, bleak sunlight that seemed to subtract warmth from the atmosphere--made up for it with outstanding success. He now found himself in his father's car, front seat, belt on, leaning his head softly against the window pane and watching New Yorkers walk by in business suits. Breakfast had been quick and efficient. As always, his father had read the cartoons on the morning paper, chuckled a couple times, and left the rest to read later if he felt like it. They were a good five or so minutes away from Flemming now. The other twenty spent in the car had been as unexciting as breakfast.

Stefan held his cellphone in one hand--the lit screen switched off just now. Moments ago he had finished talking to his mother, who called him to congratulate him on his first day of school, wish him luck, and such other things. Moments like these reminded him that--over the summer break--he had considered asking his parents to make him a dorm resident at the institute, but he was too afraid that they would read too much into it and the entire thing would escalate into another of those spectacularly passive-aggressive my-son-loves-me-more-than-you competitions between the two. Their divorce, which wasn't even a divorce, was mostly on pretty good terms, but sometimes they just couldn't help themselves or each other.

Now he found himself outside the high school entrance to the Flemming Institute, but still inside his father's car, waiting for the obligatory words of wisdom to start the semester.

"Well, here we are. Try not to fall asleep in every class."

Stefan smirked; not at the joke, but rather at the fact that he was constantly underestimated with jokes like that one.

Picking up a dark green messenger bag from the back seat of the car, he twisted the handle, let the door open, slipped off, stood straight, closed the door again. The window was half-open. His father looked at him straight in the face with one of those you-know-I'm-about-to-say-something-funny looks.

"And remember; you're not actually supposed to do drugs, even if they're fun as hell."

He laughed coarsely at his own pun and Stefan accompanied him for a second, then he rolled the window up, waved goodbye, and drove off to his office. With a look of sudden realization, Stefan haplessly considered how many of his friends would kill to have a dad like that.

He had arrived quite early. He gazed at the wristwatch that he so lovingly protected. 7:37. Flemming's gates wouldn't open for another twenty or so minutes, and only a select group of students--mostly freshmen and sophomores--had bothered to join him this early outside the gate. His footsteps on the concrete were hollow and very sonorous, accompanied by none others for the moment. He figured he would simply idle around, tapping his foot in an imitation of impatience, standing outside the gate as everyone else went through their business. It wasn't very exciting. Not even the notion of a new year managed to excite him. On this particular morning, it felt like he and the world would stand still.

 

[The Admiral]

{ooc: Big Brother's mechanical voice is rendered <THUSLY> -- however, the dream doesn't show up until next post... since he's not thinking about it right now!}

Six-thirty. Six-thirty. No sane person, especially not one as perfectly sane as Terry Dickinson, needed to be up that early. But, still, he was. Why? Because his sister had prodded him awake. He stirred a little, finally falling out of bed and taking the sheet with him.

"Honestly, Terry, I don't get why you're so slow in the mornings," Alice said. Terry just shot a death glare in her direction, which she utterly ignored. She was used to Terry being King of the Grouchy Jerks in the morning.

Terry stood up and dropped the sheet; he was, unsurprisingly, still in his pajamas, which were a dark red in color and were likely highly flammable. At least, that's how her sister described them in her last 'fanfiction' that she wrote. Which is to say, the last story she wrote as a summer assignment for her new English class; this assignment involved writing about the thing you would most want to have happen to you. The plot line was very simple; one day, Terry stayed up really late and was drawing a picture for fun. Terry had chosen to use the vanitas style. He lit one of the candles and began drawing the still-life he'd constructed. In the middle of this, somehow, the lit candle fell onto the sketch, which caught fire; soon, the fire spread to the desk, the rug, Terry's pajamas... the whole house burned, and Terry died quickly. His body could not be identified.

A ridiculous notion, to be sure, though Terry did appreciate vanitas. He stood up and turned to a machine set on one of his dressers. Within a second, the device, clearly a music player, activated. He opened the dresser's drawers and quickly withdrew the pieces of clothing which made up his school uniform. "Could you get out of the room, please? I'd like to get dressed."

Alice left quickly. For Terry, this was a morning ritual -- dressing to Supertramp's Crime of the Century album, which he owned on LP. His sister would be safely away from him, no chance to change his clothes to whatever silly thing she thought of.

Sept. 3
Day 1​

...except that's not how it went. Terry was in seventh grade this year, just old enough to get to stay in the dorms. Much to his dismay, though, he was joined by another in his dorm. In particular, it was a girl. In particular, it was his sister. This was his first night staying in the dorm, and she just had to be there. Six-thirty, and the music player set on his desk screamed to life.

SUICIDE, I'VE ALREADY DIED,
YOU'RE JUST THE FUNERAL

Et cetera, et cetera. Covering his ears in pain, he ran over to the machine and shut it off. "Damn it," he screamed, "what's the big idea, are you trying to kill me?!"

"That's nothing your blood pressure won't do for me," Alice said in a mocking tone. "It's 6:30 A.M., I'm going to get you dressed and we're getting you ready for your first day."

"I think I can get ready just fine in the normal hour that normal kids get!"

Of course, this didn't stop Alice from immediately forcing Terry into an outfit of her own choice and design. For once, it was an outfit designed for use by a male, but that didn't stop it from not being the uniform.

Well, it was a uniform, but it wasn't the uniform that the school required. Terry had a quick look in the mirror, and was appalled by this. "God damn it, Alice, get this Hitlerjugend sh--" A loud ringing, the first wake-up bell, didn't interrupt Terry's tirade. "--a proper goddamn uniform!"

"Fine, fine," Alice said, "but you have no taste, Terry. Oh, but thank you for letting me look at your books last night. I really like your art. Maybe you should have taken an art class!"

Terry ignored the compliment. "If you wrecked any of it, I'll kick your arse in. I need those."

"What would you need them for?" Alice asked. "Trying to impress one of your nerdy friends by showing them you do more than sit in a corner with your Supertramp?"

Terry sighed and eventually just dressed himself, throwing the other uniform back at Alice. "Hurry up. We're a bit behind today."

"Ohhh, I thought you said you could get ready in an hour like everyone else?"

Not wanting to fight more, he just sat back down. "We should have some time to get food, and to get out, head for class, if we can all just hurry up."

Well, that was a serious underestimate; when Terry had finished packing and eating, he ran out of the dormitory, across the bridge over the lake, around the buildings... to the gate. He sat there, glancing at the surrounding crowds. He didn't really know who many of them were, but that was to be expected. He rarely, if ever, cared much for anyone but himself. Adter all, most people were utterly boring. That, or they shunned him. As such, he opened his bag, pins clattering, and removed his sketchbook, examining a particular drawing. "I wonder if I can finish this up in time for the first meeting..."

 

[TheSequelReturns]

OOC: EDIT: The purple was a little hard to read compared to the other colors. I'll stick with the green from now on.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vivi sat up in bed and took a look around. The room around her was strangely dark, obscuring the details like her posters of various movies and her shelves of books. Her door stood slightly open, as though beckoning her to open it and step out into the darkness beyond. From beyond the dark threshold of her room, her sanctuary, came a voice. It was low and calm, as if spoken by someone who cared deeply for her.

“Won’t you come out to me? I’m lonely, please come out. Come to me.”

The voice, it was so peaceful and serene. Before she realized what was happening, she was already standing before the door. Her hand was stretched towards the door knob, just inches away from the dull golden metal. She didn’t remember getting out of bed.

“Why do you hesitate? Please, please come and see me. I won’t hurt you.”

Everything inside of her told her to run, to slam the door and jump back into the safety of her bed, but her body was moving of its own accord. Her hand closed around the door knob, and slowly, gently pulled the door open. She shouldn’t be doing this; she should be closing the door, not opening it.

“Please, I don’t want to be alone anymore. Come out, come to me. You can trust me, I mean you no harm.”

She took another step forward, her foot crossing the line between her room and the absolute darkness of the hallway beyond. A single ray of moonlight, coming from no real direction, served as a backlight for the figure at the other end of the hall. The shadows seemed to move with their own power, swaying back and forth, keeping the tiny figure obscured in true darkness.

A tiny shadowed hand reached out to her. “Why are you afraid?”

Vivi opened her mouth to answer, but no sound would escape her lips. Her foot moved on its own again, taking one more hesitant step toward the figure, then another.

The small figure took a step forward, and the shadows parted for just a moment, threatening to reveal the identity of the tiny figure. Vivi couldn’t look, she closed her eyes. She didn’t want to know what she was walking towards.

Several tiny footsteps clicked across the hardwood floor, each a bit louder than the first. Vivi feel to her knees as the figure approached. She still held her eyes shut, as though simply not seeing the thing would make it go away.

“It’s ok, you’re with me now.”

A tiny, ice cold hand touched her cheek. She screamed and…

***

September 3 - Day 1​

Vivi sat up in bed again, screaming. She stopped as soon as she realized she was drowning out her alarm clock. She took a look around the room, sunlight streamed in through her white curtains. Her books were all neatly organized on their shelves, and the door was firmly shut just as she had left it. She took a moment to calm down, to slow her rushing thoughts and try to focus on what she had seen. This was the third time she had had the dream, no, the nightmare. Each time it had lasted a little longer, bringing her closer and closer to the thing at the end of the hall. After last night’s performance, she feared going to bed again. She didn’t want to find out what would happen if it went on any further, she didn’t want to know about the figure, she couldn’t.

She slowly and carefully climbed out of bed, flinching a bit at the thought of putting her feet on the floor least a tiny, cold hand reach out from under the bed and take hold of her foot, dragging her down into the abyss. It was crazy she though, it was just a dream. But she couldn’t shake that feeling.

She put one foot down, then another. It seemed to be ok, the figure hadn’t yet escaped from the world of dreams, or so it seemed. She shut off her alarm clock and was about to grab a DVD to watch before she realized something, something important. Today was her first day of school, her first day as a junior at the Flemming Institute. She rushed to her closet door and, after a moment of hesitation, slowly opened the sliding door. She slid hangers this way and that, trying to find her school uniform. It was no use, it just wasn’t in here.

Giving up on that venture, she made her way to her room door. The plain white door had never seemed so intimidating. It was just a dream she reminded herself once again. She hesitantly reached for the doorknob, feeling a slight feeling of déjà vu. The door opened, revealing the empty hallway. The hardwood floor was clean and polished, the pictures still hung neat and straight on the walls, and the window at the far end was still closed and locked. She made her way down the hall and made the left turn into the living room of her family’s apartment. The cream colored carpet matched perfectly with the off-white walls. Apartments always seemed to be colored with so called “neutral colors”, mostly just off-whites. Vivi hated all the white, she needed color. That was probably why she had covered nearly every square-inch of her wall with posters.

As she headed to the kitchen, which was separated from the living room by only a counter, she could see her school uniform lying folded on the kitchen counter, a crisp white piece of paper lying folded on top. She grabbed the paper and gently folded it open. It was a note:

“Your school uniform has been washed and I packed a breakfast for you. Lunch money is on the counter. Have a good first day!

Love, Mom.”

She read the note through a few more times, wondering how true that last statement really was. Not even on her first day did either one of them say good morning. Dad was at work, but mom was probably just out shopping again. She liked having the money to buy herself nice things. Not that she didn’t buy things for Vivi as well, but material goods were no substitute for quality time. She balled up the note and tossed it into the trashcan. Grabbing her uniform, she made her way to the bathroom, and after a quick shower and a change of clothes, finally had her appearance up to school standards. At least she didn’t have to wear a tie like the boys did. She grabbed her red and black shoulder bag from her room. She had packed her papers and pens in the bag last night, just in case she didn’t have time in the morning. Before she left the room, she browsed her shelves for a book she had not yet read, or at least one she hadn’t read in a while. She settled on The Time Machine, by H. G. Wells, and put the book in her bag before heading back toward the front of the apartment. She grabbed the bag of breakfast and her lunch money and headed out of the door, making sure to lock it on her way out.

***​

The subway wasn’t that crowded this morning, which was good because it meant Vivi would actually get a seat this time. She sat in relative silence as she snacked on a sandwich from her bag. It was peanut butter and honey, her favorite. As she ate, she thought about what would happen at school later. Which teachers would she get? How many of her friends would she share classes with? How many of her friends were even still going to this school? Would she make any new friends or would she simply be confined to the background as usual? Her thoughts were interrupted by the intercom.

“Next stop, station 5, next stop station 5.” The announcement declared. Vivi glanced at the station map on the wall. Station 5 was the closest one to Flemming Institute. In fact, the station exit was just a few blocks away.

Vivi gathered her things, tossed her empty bag into the trash, and made her way out of the train. She spotted a few other students in the Flemming uniform, but she didn’t recognize any of them. She followed them across the few blocks to the school, where some other students were already waiting for the school to open. She must still be a little early. She found a deserted spot near the gate, and pulled out her book. Soon, she was lost in the pages of the classic novel.

 

[lifesharker]

“-take me, don’t leave me, baby, love will come through it’s just waiting for you-”

Jason groaned as his radio clicked on, marking the start of a new school year. His hand shot out from under the covers and hit the green button. He turned over and tried to get back to sleep.

Five minutes later, the infernal thing came back on.

“-I’m dancing til dawn, I’m fooling around-”

Jason groaned again, louder this time, and rolled out of bed. He regretted not having got ready last night; he had barely any idea where half his stuff was. He muttered angrily to himself as he dug around for his bag in the mess in the corned of his room.

“Jason, get up! Now!”

“Yeh yeh, I’m on my way!” he replied as he tried in vain to remember which of his various drawers he’d stuffed his tie into at the end of last term. His foot caught on his bag as he turned, sending him flying into the wall. He swore loudly.

“I heard that!”

“Sorry mum!” He gave up searching for his stuff and headed for the shower.

* * *​

Feeling slightly more human, he finally managed to find the last of his stuff and went downstairs.

“Bye mum.”

“Hey! You haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“No time.” Ignoring her protests, he left the house. ”Tomorrow morning, I’ll get up in time to eat.” he thought to himself. By the time lunch came around, he was going to be starving.

* * *​

Within half an hour he arrived at the school gates, still slightly out of breath; he’d missed the first train, and catching the later one meant he’d had to run. He glanced at his watch. 7.56. Perfectly timed.

OOC: Bonus points if you recognise the two songs on the radio. Also, this post looked longer in word, I feel inadequate now.

 

[katiekitten]

OOC: Life: 'Tis good, don't worry! *glomps* I'll use italics and a possible orange colour when Tarkshya speaks - am still undecided. And I can cut out the cussing, if you wish. xD; It oddly enough helped me get more into character.




Zander was not sure whether it was the impromptu raging drum chorus from the neighbouring room that dragged him from oddly uncomfortable dreams at six AM that morning, or whether it was simply the fact that after waking up at the exact same time every day for the last month, his body had resigned itself to its fate and taken to forcing itself up in an attempt to pre-empt the morning chaos. In any case, it didn’t particularly matter – he was still going to strangle that girl (damn it if she was his sister) because she was playing her f*cking drum kit at six in the f*cking morning again-

Whacking a hand at a crack in the curtains that was shafting light in his eyes, he muttered illegibly under his breath, brows furrowed, eyelids squinted shut under the crush of his hair in protest of the awakening. Grabbing wildly for his pillow, he delved deeper into his grey covers, burying his head and sighing, settling down to sleep once more-

crash!

His hazel eyes snapped open at the jubilant clash of symbols, and he growled, hands bunching into fists. (That. Was. It) Rolling himself doggedly out of bed, he stalked into the hallway, leaving his door swinging behind him, and headed into the ‘music room’, where his thirteen-year-old sister sat perched on the edge of a footrest and barraged the drum-kit with her new, silver tasselled drumsticks. Head throbbing as she stomped on the bass pedal particularly hard, he chucked his pillow at her and grunted a rough ‘shut up’, bleary eyes narrowed in a furious scowl, before he returned to his room and threw himself back on to his bed and was asleep in seconds.

An hour later, when his alarm started its ecstatic screeching, he was forced out of bed once more, this time more naturally, and he found himself groaning despite himself. Today marked the end of the pool days, and chilling in the park with his friends and the beginning of yet another, abysmally boring school-year, plodding through a school that wouldn’t be wound any less tight even if you did pull the stick out of its ***. This start, on top of that, did not bode well. Yawning widely, he swung his feet reluctantly out of bed and trooped to the bathroom for his morning shower, throwing a scowl in his sister’s bedroom as he passed.

Thank god he’d be gone by the time she enrolled.

It wasn't that he hated his sisters, per se - it was just that they seemed to retain that remarkable ability that allowed them to do anything and everything that irritated him. They switched the salt and pepper shakers when you were not looking as part of one of their 'games', they put pink socks in the washing machine with your school uniform by 'accident' - he snorted at the memory, reaching a hand in the shower to switch it on: he really disliked cold water- but, in the end, they were his sisters.

He stripped off his pyjamas and stepped under the shower head, immersing himself under the hot water.

---​

“By god- how hot was that shower? I practically had to swim over here.”

He looked up mid-way through collecting his textbooks at the astounded voice of his mother as she peered incredulously into his room, a few chestnut curls falling out from the soft bun at the back of her head to brush lightly over her critical, jade gaze. He merely pointedly shut the door with his foot before returning to his search.

---

7:45AM​

Zander slumped into his Chevy, hastily prepared baguette in hand, carefully manoeuvring to shove his bag into the back in a manner that did not involve spilling ketchup on his trousers. Managing to succeed with only slight difficulty, he half-heartedly pulled his sandwhiche's piece of kitchen roll closer around it, before abandoning it on the passenger seat and sliding the keys into the ignition. He was cutting it close, he knew- would probably end up near ten minutes late, but it was only math (and who seriously gives a flying f*ck?). Drawing his Ipod out of his pocket, he plugged it in to his car-adapter and grinned as 50-cent started pumping from his speakers. Loud and fast were never a bad combination.

Sparking the ignition, he gave a cursory glance to the overhead mirror, raising a hand to flick away a few awry strands of hair he’d spotted, before twisting in his seat to check behind and roaring out of his parking space, narrowly missing the bumper of the car behind him. He gave a sigh of exasperation at the sight of the traffic trailing slowly past the opening to the road. Rush hour traffic was always a b*tch, and his baby was having a temperamental period – her cooling system had been slowly failing over the summer, and as a result she was liable to overheat and stall in traffic jams. Perhaps he’d be later than he’d expected.

He rolled down the windows.

 

[Shideneyu]

[[OOC: Fun times! If we're assigning colours to our personas, I'm going to make Durga speak with dark red text. The blood of the innocent, etc.]]

"I AM THE GIVER OF LIFE AND DEATH.

I AM THE ESSENCE OF CREATION AND DESTRUCTION.

I CHOOSE THE WAY THAT YOU LIVE AND YOU DIE. I CHOOSE THE WAY YOU SLOWLY TEAR APART YOURSELVES.

TO ME YOU BELONG. YOU CREATE ME TO FILL THE VOID, AND I FILL IT WITH THE TASTE OF WATER, THE SOUND OF TIME, THE SIGHT OF AIR, THE SCENT OF GLASS.

YOU ARE MY CHILD, PLAYING ABOUT MY FEET. YOU MAY BRUSH AGAINST MY SKIN AND TRY TO MEASURE THE SHOCK OF THE DIVINE.

BUT WHO CAN DEFINE THE RAPTURE OF OUR UTTERANCE OF 'MOTHER'?"

Laughter, the jingle of bells, and sudden silence.​

~

The principal's office had always been an awkward sort of room. He wasn't a pompous man, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time to choose the highest room in the high school complex as his so-called base of operations. In its own slightly unstable tower, he could often be seen looking out over the grounds during lunch hours, watching students coming and going with hawk-like eyes. It wasn't that he was a strict man, he was, really, rather kind.

That, and the view was rather nice.

Jayanti turned to the principal, squinting a bit in the early morning light. It was far too early for anyone to be at the school, other than the teachers -- it was odd, being back at Flemming's when life had already taken her elsewhere. It was only a few months ago that she had been a normal student here, running from class to class, watching as everyone else figured out what they wanted to do with the rest of their lives. It was almost funny, watching them all break down into tears over picking a career--

"So, Miss Shrivastava..." He started, almost cautiously. A disarming smile came instantly to her lips; a gut reaction.

"Jayanti, please."

He sputtered for a moment, as per usual, clearing his throat several times before continuing. Everyone agreed it was because he sounded more official.

"Erm... Jayanti, yes. You'll be sitting in on the classes you will be teaching today. An exercise in leadership. Assertiveness. You'll be supplied with all the notes you'll need--"

Responding without thinking was a talent of hers. Nodding, smiling, not letting him notice her attention drifting away out the window, settling on the new kids gathering one by one outside of the gates. They looked like ants from here. Best to interrupt him now before he got on a roll.

"Sir, I'm sorry to cut this short, but I really have to go and set up the auditorium for your speech."

The principal stared at her for a moment, before clearing his throat again.

"Ah. Yes. Right. Get on that. I'll be down there in--"
"An hour, sir."
"Yes. You're excused, Miss Shrivastava."

She nodded politely, exiting the room as quietly as she came in, with one more backwards glance through the windows. Sunrise.

Always sort of nice.

~

"DON'T YOU TRUST ME TO TELL YOU WHY YOU HATE?"​

No.

"BUT I AM YOU."​

So?

"YOU HAVE MUCH TO LEARN."​

Why are you laughing?

"PATIENCE."​

​

~

The auditorium hadn't required too much preparation for the principal's start-of-the-year speech. Always the same; the school's colours in bright banners hanging from the ceiling, their coat of arms on the back wall, flowers, and a podium. Chairs were set up behind the podium itself for the faculty, and this was where Jayanti sat, in a very unladylike position, elbows braced on her knees and head leaned forward. It wasn't like her to fall asleep at school. Her eyes slid over to her bag, bulging with the sari she'd stuffed in it the night before. Last night, her father had one of his parties with a bunch of big shots. He always insisted that those kinds of meetings be traditional in every way, even going so far as to make sure everyone dressed in the requisite garb. She hadn't had time to drop it off at her apartment before coming here.

She straightened, staring blankly at the students trickling in through the open doorway. Then again, it wasn't like her to have dreams like this either. She didn't really find them strange; she didn't find anything strange, anymore. Just funny.

A smile found its way to her lips as more and more kids came in. Another year, another opportunity.

This was going to be fun.

 

[Jason-Kun]

A young boy could bee seen tossing and turning within his sleep, every few moments the cover bunching up. Restlessly he turned in his sleep at he tried to shut out his mind to the nightmare he was having.

~~~​

A staircase stood before him, winding up to what appeared to be a cave. The rest of the place seemed to be cut off by rich, dark fog. As he stared at the staircase, the teen’s eyes found himself being pulled towards the first, craggy step. Stepping warily, he began to climb forward.

As he began to climb, the rumbling of the stairs startled him. Looking back the way he had come, he found himself facing nothing short of darkness. Turning, he saw dark fog rolling towards him. In the center of the fog however, he could see a white and blue light, fighting back the fog. Stumbling once more, he found himself falling into the darkness.

~~~​

Back in the real world, he shivered as he dreamt. Hands clenching the covers, he pulled them tightly around himself as he was once again pulled into the dream.

~~~​

From the darkness he fell, and the light he had seen before encircled him. The light grabbed him as they spiraled to the ground. In a flash, the darkness disappeared and the teen found himself in what appeared to be his bedroom. Only something was wrong.

The light had floated away to rest upon the top of his bunk bed, the raven black railing offering it not much. The cream carpet felt soft under his feet as he stared at the figure in amazement, the gray walls with his oak desk staring at him. This was what was wrong. Yesterday he had cleared his desk of all the items he owned. His silver Macintosh laptop, the sleek black Nintendo DS Lite with the copy of Pokémon Diamond, the various books, games, and hygiene products. All of it was there, piled neatly upon his desk. Turning back towards his bed, he noticed the light had dimmed.

In its place sat a bird. Blue and white feathers covered the body of the creature, the black hooks of its claws scraping on the bed. The creature cast a look to the boy, before nodding in mock disapproval.

“Cohb, are you listening? You’ll be wise to try and make friends. Only then will you,” the figure began before the dream faded.

~~~​

A moment later, Cohb found himself on the floor of his bedroom. Struggling with the cover for a few minutes, he glanced at his phone; the beeping coming from it had awoken him. Four three years he had been using his phone as an alarm clock. Three simple years. However today was the start of a new semester, and he had to get to school.

Stumbling into the bathroom, the teen glanced at the mirror. Black napped hair stuck out in tufts. Pressing it back, he grabbed the nearest washrag. Filling the cream colored sink with water, he tugged off his clothing. He had ironed and hung his school uniform in the bathroom the night before. Scrubbing his face, he pulled on the student issues shirt, tying the black jacket around his waist with the red and black school logo hidden. He had stuffed the tie in his suitcase, for he wasn’t going to use it expect maybe for school dances. Forcing himself into a pair of black jeans, he completed his outfit with a pair of blue and white Nikes.

Heading into the living room, he crept over to the computer terminal. His parents and sisters had left for work and school respectively, not more than ten minutes ago. The clock on the computer read 6:45, although to be truthful it was only 6:30. After an hour of fiddling around online, he headed out the door. The school wasn’t very far after all. Jumping on his bike, he secured his backpack and was off.

~~~​

A few moments later he arrived at the gate to see a few other students milling around. A couple of guys and girls it seemed. Shrugging, he plopped right on the ground in front of the gate. ‘I wonder what that dream was about,’ he thought to himself as he fiddled with a lock of his hair.

It was going to be a long day.

 

[Mrmagius]

OOC: Woot its up! Also, Katiekitten can I bagsy orange for when Ma'at speaks?

Also, below isnt, the dream, its just a part, I plan to wrap it up the next time Aviva falls asleep. I would do it over the course of 3 days RPG time but I doubt our characters will ave that long before running into a dead zone so...yah.

BIC:

Aviva opened her eyes and instantly knew something was different. Getting out of bed she realized she was aready clothed, wearing a bright red tank top and black jeans and her typical high heel shoes, red again. Look out of the window adjacent to her bed it appeared to be night, judging from the total darkness of the outside world. The lighting in her room was comletely wakced out, no lights were on as far as she could tell but somehow the room was illuminated by splotches of pink, blue and lilac as if from some low power neon light but having no one possible source. Another strange thing was that her room was filled from head to toe with clocks of all sizes, all ticking in unison, from fobwatches to grandfather clocks, they were everywhere, on her bed, hanging in her window, in her panty draws, no where was free from them!

Suddenly she heard the flutter of wings. Snapping her head 'round she noticed the door to her room was opening and on the floor in front was a pure white feather with the tip pointing into the darkness beyond the doorway.

And then the clocks went off. They were terrifying, booming through her mind, she had to escape their infernal ringing! She virtually leapt outwards through the frame and into the abyss.
-------------------------------------------------


Aviva woke up with a start that morning. She'd been having some dreams like that for some time but that one was the furthest she's ever gone before. On sitting up she glanced at the metal analog clock that hung from the window-wall on the right side of her bed. It was half six, she'd woken up fifteen minutes earlier than she needed to. With that happy thought in mind she snuggled up to the warmth of the bed and contemplted what she'd just experinced. It had been a very realistic dream, lucid almost and extremely colourful. Before she forgot her hand quickly shipped out from the pouch of insulation from under the covers and retrieved her dream journal & pen from the side of her bed. She wrote down everyting she'd gone through and any oddities

After a few more minutes of appreciation she decided to get up and turn off her alarm to get ready herself. She saw no point shattering the serene silence of the morning with such a piercing sound. Hopping out of bed she allowed the covers to slide off her, revealing herself as *ahem* god intended her to be...Of course she always drew the curtains before going to bed so no one could see her. In her natural glory she storde across her room and pulled on a silk kimono to cross the living room outside in. After all, her and Shayla were close, but they weren't that kind of close. Slipping the elegant gown on she opened her door and walked out into the apartment living area.

"Morning" Aviva greeted her sister with a quick but sincere smile from across the area.

"You're up early" Shayla spoke in mild surprise, still wiping the sleep form her eyes at the kitchen counter, sitiuated on a slightly elevated wooden floor just after the living room. Of course, its not like she realy needed to, Shayla was the kind of girl who could spend hours rolling around a landfill and still come out better off for it than Heather Mills from her divorce settlement. She just had a natural, radiant glow that attracted suitors to her, and pests. With her big blue eyes and long, flowing earth brown hair and slender figure she was quite a catch. Aviva, however, was not so lucky. Aviva was less of a rod and more of an hourglass. Still, se was good with that and liked her body as it was.

"Yeah, I had some....odd, dreams" She replied, still on her way to the bathroom to get showered that was to the right of the kitchen, just beyond the living room "It was nice though"

-----------------------------------

"OK, so remember, I won't be in tonight. You've got a key right?" Shayla asked as her younger sister hopped out of her company car.

"Yes, yes and double yes now stop asking. Just go to your drink thing and have a good time"

"Its not a drink thing! I told you my boss and I are just going to be discussing some figures for the company's accounts over a drink"

"So its a date?"

"NO!" She denied fervently, her tanned cheeks turning rosy red.

"then its a drink thing" Aviva persisted playfully. At this point Shayla only gave her the evils and closed the door with a quick bye. Aviva knew she wasn't really angry though.

"Whatever" She mumbled back jokingly, smirking after her sister as she drove off. As she walked to the school gates she turned her thoughts from the relationship status of her sister to the school year ahead of her and the faces she could see there. Some new, some old. Only a handful were friendly. Still, she didnt care, it was a fresh start and so, checking her double buns in the reflective metal of her Ebook she started to file in with the other students, metally preparing herself for the ever dull start of year speech to come.

 

[.:Lemon Tea:.]

The italicized, are mostly Len's thoughts. If they're in the blue color, they're Tsukuyomi's thoughts inside Len's head.
----

Lenneth (Len) Davidson

***​

The faint trickling of water on her face awakened with a start. She looked around only to see darkness around her, engulfing her like a raven-swept cloak. Her eyes widened at this sight, because of curiosity, not fear. She seemed a bit afraid to say the least, but the most definite expression on her face was that of inquisitiveness. Gently, she reached out to touch her face to wipe away the small, translucent river that should be flowing down her face, but her heart skipped a beat when she saw her hand. The once pale flesh was now invisible to her, she could still feel that her hand was there, but her sight allowed her to see nothing.

Surprised aren’t we?

She opened her mouth to ask what the meaning of this was, but nothing flowed up. She whimpered in her mind and tried again. Nothing came out. Nothing at all.

Would you like to see your face dear one?

She nodded her head, or at least she would have seemed to be nodding her head, if she was still visible. Yes, fear was in her mind, fear of the fact that when she saw her expression it would be nothing but an abyss of black in the reflection of the mirror, but she needed to know this if this was the truth.

As she was expecting a mirror, a watery surface appeared. It was pure, silvery, and definitely clear enough to see a reflection. Strangely enough, it let a small aura of a luminous light; that was enough to illuminate the surface. She suspected that this was the so-called 'mirror', and the girl gently went into a kneeling position by the puddle, or what she thought to be a kneeling position if she could see her body.

She peeked shyly over the side and saw herself-Len-illuminated back at her. The black hair was still on her head and so were her amber eyes. They fit perfectly on the pale moonlit skin on her face, and she still was flesh and bone. The surprised, gentle face was reflected back to her like a mirror image.

What is this? She thought, gazing back at her reflection. She was invisible and then she was not?

You should have more trust in yourself, dear child. You are alive and well, or you wouldn’t be able to think. Do you really need a measly reflection on a shallow puddle to believe that you are truly alive? You breathe and you hear in this place. You can wipe the tears on your cheek, despite the fact that you did not see your hand.

You are alive, and so am I.

She felt astonished that her thoughts had been heard by whoever it had been and suspicion aroused in her body. Who exactly are you?

The euphonious voice rang out again with the same strong conviction and sorrowful tone the first time she heard it. It had a feeling of humor to it, but it seemed more wistful and deep than sarcastic and daunting. Whoever it was seemed regretful and wise at the same time, and it was definitely male with its deep, monophonic tone.

I am the one who looks at the deer in the forests.

I am the one who sees the humans inside their skyscrapers which pale in comparison to the mountains in my world.

I am the one who is the overseer of Earth, I see the humans, the species you belong to.

I see their contempt to the world around them.

But I also see their goodness.

I can see the constellations of the universe, but at the same time, I can see the livelihood of Earth. I am the one people see as a beacon of light that shatters the dark sky. I gave you this light in the water dear child, just as I have given many the guidance they needed when they looked up. You can laugh at this yes, but knowing you, you will not. I do not know if I found you or you found me, but I do know this is the start.

So dear child, will you lend me your power?

September 3, 2008
The First Day of School​

Len woke with a start as if a lightning bolt had hit her. Her alarm hadn’t gone off quite yet, and she realized she was sweating. She carefully touched her head tentatively, and saw that her hands were still intact to her body. She peered at the glassy plastic on her alarm clock, and felt reassured that she still looked like herself. A relieved sigh was heard, and she was back to the normal, calm Len like always. The clock showed that it was almost 6:30 in the morning, and she shut off the alarm on her clock that was about to ring any second. She was already wide awake without its help.

She climbed off of the cotton blue sheets of her twin bed and headed towards the bathroom to brush her teeth and get ready for the first day of school. Strange dreams were rare, but school was one of the things that never changed from her schedule, and something that probably wouldn't change for a long time to come. With that in mind, she went to take her shower.

The lights flickered on in the bathroom, and she began the daily routine of brushing her teeth and washing her face along with doing what everyone pratically did to get ready in the mornings. She went to her closet, shedding her silk nightgown and donned on her uniform. She combed her hair in the mirror, and it wasn't a huge deal as it was to other people for it stayed silky and straight without the help of a brush. Although she didn’t really care for facial products, she somehow managed to have skin free from blemishes and soft too. Len didn't look anything like a primma donna, but she managed to maintain her look the best she could. Without even knowing it, she had an elegant aura about her without spending too much time on her face and look, and that was something she knew but never understood for she was just being herself.

As she exited her bedroom, she took in the faint smell of oak for the last time and headed downstairs for breakfast.

She grabbed a donut on the table, for despite the fact that her parents rarely bothered about her, they often provided breakfast to her on weekdays. They rest was up to her on what she wanted to eat, for they wouldn’t be home for dinner, and sometimes her father slept in the hospital. It was the reason why a crisp 20 dollar bill was there, for her to buy food at school and for dinner at her convenience since they understood that she rarely ate with her grandmother whose oriental cooking left a faint aftertaste of grease or chilies. Her grandmother didn't actually mind though, saying that it was easier 'making a meal just for one' or telling her that she had been 'Americanized'. It was obvious that she was a little hurt by that, so Len often sacrificed and ate the Asian cuisine that was so spicy that it burned her lips. Len ate dinner with her grandmother, but just made a different meal most of the time.

Len put the donut in her mouth, and grabbed her backpack that she prepared the day earlier with the much needed essentials of school which included 2 binders and notebooks along with a full pencil pouch. Her backpack also contained her recreational means including her iPod and cell phone, and she also put the twenty dollars in her wallet which was inside the backpack also. With that, she took off her slippers and wore her new brown Converses along with grabbing the key into the house. She was heading out.

***​

Len wasn’t particularly excited about arriving at school. She knew the campus well enough along with some people in her grade level that she wasn’t nervous with butterflies in her stomach like some of the freshmen on her first day. With school, it was a love-hate relationship to Len. She liked some of the classes well enough that she wanted to walk through the gate and onto the crisp white path up to school, but at the same time, school was rather bothersome and annoying in more ways than one.

Despite the fact that many people complained about wearing a uniform, Len didn't really mind, and actually liked to wear one. It kind of gave the sense that people looked the same (mostly) clothes-wise, and kind of gave off the sense of unity. She would rather wear pants though, since she wasn't particularly fond of wearing a skirt, but that wasn't a huge issue.

Most people seemed to be chatting with their friends about one thing or another, and Len quickly glanced at her cell phone for the time. She gave a small sigh, it was only 7:40 and knowing her friends, they wouldn’t be here until the bell actually rang (some of them were probably still in traffic and making it to the school, which she was lucky not to experience, but for others, she knew they slept too late on the first day), but she honestly didn’t really mind being alone.

And so, she waited and started to do what any other bored person would do-which was listen to her iPod and let the music engulf her. Her mind soared from different topics, from who her teachers were to the murky darkness of the dream she had.

----

Its rushed in the middle about her daily rountine in the morning, also sorry if the meeting with her Persona isn't the way it they're supposed to meet in a dream, along with the fact that its kind of confusing. Hope you get the point though, and I hope I didn't give too much information away.

 

[Blivsey]

Vincent Joshua Reynolds



Vincent pulled his off-white sheets up over his shoulders, wanting so badly to not go to school. He rolled over, trying to find a more comfortable position in which to perhaps fall asleep. But instead, he ended up facing his window and getting a face full of sunlight, shining into his half-opened eyes and forcing him awake. He gave up his struggle for laziness and slowly pulled himself upright in his bed, giving a great yawn. He glanced at his clock, trying to find how much time he had before he had to drag himself off to the school.

6:51 A.M.

Ugh.

Even then, Vincent could hear his mother, Shannon, calling all the way from the kitchen.

"Vincent Joshua, wake up! I will not allow you to be late on your first day of school!" her voice came. She wasn't being harsh (she never really was), but he could still tell that she wouldn't hesitate to come in herself and drag him the five blocks to Flemming if it was necessary.

Double ugh.

Vincent rubbed his hand through his coarse black hair, then down to his chin. He was definitely in need of a shave. Then, lifting his arm up, he craned his head down and smelled the crook of his arm through his undershirt. Yeah, he would need a shower, too. He plodded out of his bed and pulled open the sliding door to his closet. Looking among his shirts, sweaters and such, he saw that at least his uniform was in order. That was good. His leather messenger-bag was properly loaded and sitting in its corner, nothing else seemed to be a problem....

"Are you even awake, young man?" she called again.

"No, I'm completely asleep," he retorted dryly.

"Well, get to fixing that," she replied.


UGH.

- Wednesday, 3rd September - ​

Vincent threw his towel onto the pile of his laundry and walked over to his dresser, pulling out a fresh pair of boxers and athletic socks and putting them on. He put on a bit of deodorant, tossed it back onto his dresser-top and yanked the dress slacks down off his hangar. As he pulled them on, he found them to be slightly big on him now. he had, at least, lost a bit of his waistline over the summer. That was always good. He put on a belt and, seeing his music player on his desk, decided to clip that onto his front-right belt loop, stuffing his earbuds into one pocket. He finished putting on the uniform, tying the tie as loosely as he could reasonably get away with, and noted that somehow a hole had developed in the left sleeve of the shirt, near the cuff.

Great.

He put his cell phone in his left pocket and slipped on a fairly new pair of sneakers, white with a black stripe on either side. He slung his bag over his shoulder, made a quick check to see that all the essentials were in there, and looked at the clock again. 7:18. Just enough time for a bite of food.

Vincent left his room and went down the short hall to the combined kitchen and sitting-room in his apartment, dropping his bag next to an armchair and grabbing a mug from the shelf above the counter. He filled it with some brew from the coffee-maker and sat down at the bar-counter, scanning the headlines on the nearby paper for anything interesting. No such luck.

Of course, his mother was already bustling around, ready with a banana and a bowl of Wheaties. Of course, she was always on top of things. She made sure that he got his work done, ate his three squares, and all that. She always had good intentions, and always had a relentless fervor in doing so. She was a good person, all told. Vincent mumbled his thanks as he took his breakfast, almost immediately eating through it.

"That's right, eat," she said, now tending to an omelet. "Lord knows you're not skinny enough already." Vincent rolled his eyes. What was it with mothers and fattening their kids?

"Now, you know what I expect of you," she continued, speaking directly at Vincent without even looking in his direction. That was a habit of hers. She continued to talk on about how he had to show up on time to all of his classes, do all of his homework, be a good little boy, yadda yadda yadda. Of course, she wasn't quite that boring, but Vincent still tuned her out, knowing that he had probably heard this all before. He zoned back in just in time to hear something about how he was supposed to pick up milk on the way home, and she would pay him back for it later.

Vincent nodded, gave an "Of course, mom," and finished off his breakfast. He placed his cutlery in the washer, grabbed all of his things and headed toward the door. Just before he stepped onto the doormat, though, he remembered to look down. Sure enough, their lazy Siamese cat was just lying there right in front of the door, like usual. Ugh. Sometimes Piro was really more trouble than he was worth.

Vincent nudged him out of the way (which the cat didn't take to very well) and, throwing a generic "have a good day" over his shoulder, he slipped outside onto the balcony, thankful that he didn't have to put up with his dad this morning. It wasn't that he was particularly cruel or horrible, but his father was always somewhat disappointed in Vincent for not living up to his great expectations. So what if he wasn't a genius or good at sports or anything like that? Why couldn't he accept average?

After giving one brief look to the sky (gray and dismal, how appropriate), Vincent set off at a brisk pace, down the stairs at the end of the walkway and north across the street, glancing to either side briefly just to check that he wouldn't be run over. Once back on the sidewalk, he continued in the general direction of the school, barely six blocks away, and queued up his music. He quickly melded in with the early-morning crowd, which after all of these years living in New York had become a sort of habit for him.

He followed the general tide of people all the way to the gates of the Flemming Institute. He checked his phone, seeing that it was still 7:46. He was a bit early, sure. But the grounds were disproportionately empty. It seemed that even on the first day, nobody wanted to show up earlier than usual, or perhaps even more than five minutes before the bell.

Smart people.

So, with no particular want to talk to anyone at the moment, Vincent headed around the building, toward some of the sports courts. There, standing just like it always had, was a relatively short Elm tree with a slightly curved trunk. He smiled, seeing that his favorite place to sit and nap was still unoccupied. he set his things down against a somewhat-flat area of the trunk, and he situated himself in a nice nook that he found very comfortable, with a good knot in the bark on top of which he could rest his head. Of course, he could only linger for a short while before the day's boring proceedings, but for now he was contented.

-----​

OOC: Bonus awesome points to anyone who knows the proper origin of Vincent's cat.

Also, since we're all claiming speaking-colors for our Personae now, can Epona have this earthy, Sienna color? Thank you, and I apologize if it's hard to read in your skin, but hey, some others are in mine, and besides, that's what highlighting is for.

 

[Ysavvryl]

"Spooky..."

"Hmm?"

"Spooky..."

"Hmm?"

He was tall and skinny, but otherwise difficult to identify. He wore a long trenchcoat, a large hat, and a weird blank mask. Speaking in a dead monotone, he asked, “Do you know the milk man?”

She glanced over her shoulder, swearing that she heard a camera somewhere. “Is he related to the muffin man?”

He brought out a bright cheery blue box with a somehow ominous blinking red light on it. “Have you bought any cookies recently?”

“No... Me and Nana make them ourselves.”

He tossed the cookie box away; it exploded. “Are you plotting on overthrowing the government?”

She gave him a skeptical look. “No...”

“But you deny knowing the milk man?”

“I didn’t know that milk was still delivered.”

“What happens when all the lights go out?”

“Uh... I go to sleep?”

“Did you know that mental illness is often genetic?”

“Hey, that’s not the case with Mom!”

“Are you a Rainbow Sprite?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Wait... does this have anything to do with that weird video game my cousin was playing?”

He brought his finger up accusingly. “Who’s asking the questions around here?”

“Both of us, it seems like.”

“Where do the shadows run when the lights go out?”

“Shadows... run?”

“Who is the woman on your tape recorder?”

She stared at him. “My tape recorder? There shouldn’t be anything; I deleted the entire tape.”

“We are always watching. God is always watching. Everyone is always watching. Watch as you fall under the spotlight. Will you tell the truth?” He whipped out the small device and hit the play button. It was static-filled, but something could be heard.

ssszzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
ssstheyzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
ssszzzzzarezzzzzzzzzzz
ssszzzzzzzzzcomingzzz
ssszzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

-+-

It was a strange dream. However, it was time to go to school.

-+-

The subway was mostly full, as it always was this time of the morning. A number of the teenaged passengers were wearing the uniform for Flemming’s School. It was distinctly different from traditional NYC teenage wear: black jacket over white shirt, maybe a tie, black pants for boys and black or red skirts for girls (leading to perennial complaints from girls who wanted to wear pants instead). It led to a feeling of unity and belonging.

One of the girls shifted her shoulder bag to her lap and opened it up to check on the contents. She was certain that she had everything, but a feeling of uneasiness made her want to check. Besides, doing this made her look less anxious than the girl next to her who was fidgeting and twirling her hair around her fingers.

What was in her bag?

In an easily reached side pocket, there was a black fliptop cellphone with silver trim. Most teenagers wouldn’t be separated from their phones even if their life depended on it. However, she nearly hated the thing. Sure, it was handy for contacting family or friends when arranging things. More often than not, though, nearly anybody who knew the number could contact her and ask her to help with something.

She liked helping people and disliked having to turn down those who asked for it. But it got to be too much at times. Last year, she had nearly had a nervous breakdown of having too much stuff to do. This year, though, she had promised Nana that she wouldn’t put so much on her timetable. But still, if people needed help, she ought to try to do something. That was why she had a love-hate relationship with her cellphone.

In an inside pocket, there was a collection of pens, pencils, erasers, plus a pair of scissors and a calculator. Standard school supplies, but she always made sure to have extras of pens and pencils. They were so easily lost and her classmates could be so forgetful. Sometimes she was tempted to tell one or another that it was their own fault that they forgot to bring a pen. But no, she was a nice girl, so she only went as far as to remind them to take better care of their things before lending them one of hers.

Pinned to the inside of the main pocket was a plastic baggie with band-aids and a tube of antibiotic gel. It was reassuring to know that if she got a small cut or something, she didn’t have to go to the nurse, who’d make a fuss about it.

There was a black three-ring binder with ten folders inside. The binder was several years old and decorated with many stickers. Most people thought the stickers were random, but there was a method to them. They represented various things that had happened over her life and how she had overcome them. There was even a furiously spinning Taz from Looney Tunes to represent her crazy junior year. Tapping the binder thoughtfully, she hoped that this year would be calmer and she wouldn’t have to add any more stickers other than graduation.

There was a rosary made of white and brown beads. According to the priest of the church she attended, she should be wearing it at all times, in a pocket or somewhere easily accessible. This was so one could remember the tenants of the Catholic faith and abide by its rules always. However, Flemmings was a secular school. Having a rosary made one an easy mark for teasing.

It was curious, in the ways of teenagers, that the rosary got her teased, but the bracelets and anklets that she always wore did not. She felt that it must be because her peers didn’t understand the meaning of them. They were silver bells tied onto a white band with a secure clasp. Nana said that certain bells drove evil spirits away, so she used them whenever clearing a space of any unseen hostiles.

The kids at Flemmings simply thought they were distinctive, something that set her apart from being just another student. The staff didn’t like them and forbade her to wear them in class. So she simply attached them to her bag and put them right back on as soon as she could. It was perhaps the only thing close to rebellious that she did.

There was a small audio recorder with a white label that said ‘Susan Hazel’. Most people wouldn’t give it a second thought. A lot of students carried recorders to help study. But this one wasn’t good for that. It tended to have a low background static, but that’s exactly what it was supposed to do. This was for catching electronic voice phenomena, which could be unnoticed words or sounds that ghosts and other spirits made. But one could hear it on playback by listening closely to the white noise.

Had she ever heard anything that way? Admittedly, no. But if she could catch some message and prove that such things existed, a lot of things would make more sense. And she wouldn’t have to be ashamed to believe in that kind of thing anymore. Would it make that strange dream make any sense, though?

Still, as she’d heard nothing, she kept quiet about those things and let people believe that she was a nice normal girl.

Yeah, it would be nice to be normal. But given all the stickers on her binder, her life didn’t like to be normal for her. If she could get through her senior year without some crisis occurring, she’d consider herself lucky and be grateful.

But still, if something happened and proved that there was more than meets the eye in life...

The subway train stopped at the station outside Flemmings. Susan shut her school bag and got up with the other students. Another year, another chance for things to go right... but also another chance for things to go horribly wrong.

“Oh, hey Spooky!” another girl called out.

She turned and grinned at her. “Hey Kay! What classes do you have this year?”

And the morning carried on.

 

[Azkam]

Day 1

[OOC: Pisces voice(s) are written in this font. Fav colour, too. ]

Wednesday, September 3, 2008
- Day 1 -​

The morning of the first day of senior year, Alexis began remembering her dreams.​

This new development in her life was a mixed blessing—indeed, everything in life has some flip-side. Alex was forever curious about her forgotten dreams, but she was certain that they were horrible. Every other night she awoke on the floor of her bedroom, tangled in sheets and, apparently, crying. Unfortunately she never could remember what she was crying about, and so every morning she woke up duly frustrated.​

Alex reasoned that remembering her dreams must be her mind’s way of telling her that this school year was going to be awful, and therefore every night an inner camcorder would play back the drudgery of the day in scrambled messages. And, inevitably, she would mull it over and become even more depressed.​

Alex’ brain did enough of that anyway. At any given moment she could remember about twenty different events in her childhood that were painful, humiliating, sad, disgusting, and generally unpleasant. It removed all optimism from her consciousness, ensuring her that every day would be just as fruitless as the next: one empty box after another, floating down a river to the dreary ocean of university and life.​

Presently, however, Alex sat up in bed and stared into the darkness of her room, reflecting on last night’s peculiar dream. It had been particularly vivid: she was sinking in a deep, wide river, the water warping her vision, muffling all sound.​

There was no panic. Drowning was peaceful, the release of all burden into the gentle waves. Beams of sunlight penetrated the water, warming Alex’s face. She would have descended quite willingly into oblivion had she not heard the great roar from above. Over the river there suddenly loomed a great black shape: a tower, a giant both animal and machine. Although everything swam before Alexis’ eyes, she could feel the heat of the monster’s gaze piercing through the water and exposing her in her hiding place.​

Fear rose in Alex’ heart. She tried to struggle away from the giant’s horrible eyes, but she was paralysed. Then she felt a gentle tug on her arms, leading her down, down…​

When the panic had subsided, Alex examined her rescuers. Heavy silver chains were wrapped around her arms, connecting her to the tails of what appeared to be merfolk; one a woman, the other a man. They glided purposefully along, serenely beautiful despite the black cloths tied around their mouths, and the way their hands were chained across their chests in the universal gesture of death. They each wore a strange helmet that covered them from the nose upward: a decorative silver plate, in the centre of which was a large, sideways, lidless eye.​

Who are you? asked Alex.​

The merfolk answered simply, as one. We are you. And you.​

So they were the cryptic type. Alex sighed inwardly and tried another question: What was that giant?​

Typhon, came the answer.​

Many other questions came to Alex’s mind, but they fizzed out as the azure waves around her grew murky and brown. All sense of space vanished, leaving the group suspended in a yellowish haze.​

Alex sensed dialogue between the merfolk, who had ceased moving and now hovered in the water before her.​

Let us continue onwards, said the man. His voice was like velvet, deep and majestic, but his tone was firm. He indicated his decision by raising his head to what Alex supposed had been the sky and the sun.​

No, replied the woman, shaking her head. Hers was the voice of an angel, gentle and feminine, but filled with resolve. We should turn back. Who knows what lies ahead?​

Behind us is Typhon. We cannot stand against him.​

Before us is danger!​

​

​

With an unearthly shriek, the man jerked hard on the chain that bound him to Alex, leading her forward. At the same time, the woman tried to swim in the other direction.​

The rush of adrenaline filled Alex’s veins as she was wrenched from either side by opposing forces that were equal in strength. Pressure filled her forehead; when it seemed that she would be rent apart, the dream world faded to black and Alex awoke to the comforting darkness of her bedroom.​

~~~​

Alex shook her head, clearing the fog of sleep from her being. There was no time to dwell on strange dreams, as interesting as they were. It would not do for her to be late on the first day of school.​

Pushing back the bedsheets—for once mercifully dry of cold sweat—and rolling out of bed in one smooth motion, Alex walked to her closet. Her school uniform outfit for the day was hanging on the doorknob. She dressed quickly, pulling on the hated black skirt and knee-high socks, then her white-and-purple-striped shirt and black tie. After she shrugged on the school jacket, she placed pearly blue headphones around her neck and tucked her iPod into her pocket.​

The small house was silent as Alex descended the stairs into the cramped entranceway; her parents were on the way to work as elementary school teachers. Alex never minded the quiet, though. Mr. and Mrs. Zhou were very inquisitive about her daily school life, and she resented their questions on her well-being and homework situation at the end of each day. Alex was pleased that she did not have to deal with her mother’s nagging in the morning as well, and she could simply sit alone at the table, letting her mind wander. Today she mused over such things as the weather, music, upcoming project deadlines, and—strangely—cake. Perhaps her cereal really wasn’t that appetizing.​

At precisely 7:30AM, Alex had put on her black knee-high boots, grabbed her book-bag, and headed out the door, bus pass in hand.​

~~~​

Alex loved bus rides. She decided that it was rather out-of-character for her, not being a people person, but it wasn’t the diversity of blank-eyed human beings on the bus that interested her. Rather, she loved her spot at the back of the rattling vehicle, the little two-seat niche that she shared with her backpack. As she did on every bus ride, she lifted her headphones over her ears, set the iPod volume high, and leaned back to enjoy the mind-enveloping beats of trance.​

Alex figured that her taste in electronic dance music was rather like her enjoyment of video games, or her violent forgotten dreams. The pulsing beats and aggressive synths of EDM, the bloody ecstasy of fantasy RPGs…it was all anger release. Controlled bursts of harmless fury, projected into harmless things: tapping feet on the grimy bus floor, a video-game controller, the bed.​

As the iron-grey New York cityscape rushed past the bus windows, Alex reflected on the source of her rage. The way she saw it, her life was perfectly organized. Nothing ever got out of hand, out of control—not even Alex herself, and that was her greatest achievement.​

 

[storymasterb]

(If Quetzalcoatl speaks, it will be in these: <>. Thoughts, song lyrics and the occasional random quote will be in italics.)

She was naked in the blinding white light. There was nothing around her but infinite possibility and there seemed only to be a void extending to eternity.

<Help me, Sarayu!> the serene, but desperate and terrified voice screamed through the blinding illumination.

"Who are you?!" she called back, desperately trying to cover herself now that she knew there was someone else there.

<I am you!> it called back, the hiss in its voice becoming audible.

"What?!" Sarayu replied, not even capable of acknowledging, nor accepting its words.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She awoke in a second, her skin soaked with cold sweat. Three seconds later, loud music began to play as her dads radio was switched on. The entire purpose of this was to wake her up so her dad didn't have to spend money on an alarm clock.

Too slow, she thought. For some reason, she always woke up before the music played.

Tonight is the night, you join me in the middle of ecstacy,

She slid out of bed, throwing aside the sweat stained sheets and unconciously singing along with the radio as she pulled on her shirt and started doing up the buttons, her fingers slipping once or twice as she recalled aspects of the unusual dream.

Normally she would have forgotten any dreams by now, but this one remained crystal clear in her memory.

She finished putting on her skirt and calmly grabbed her jacket from its usual coat hanger on the door before putting it on, brushing a small patch of dust off of the sleeve. She slid her cell phone into its special pocket on her shirt before snatching up her bag and pulling it onto her shoulder as she walked down the stairs.

She quickly grabbed two slices of buttered toast from a rack on the kitchen counter and started to eat the first one, chewing on the crunchy substance as she pondered the dream. Normally she didn't dream that much and when she did, she would always forget the dreams by morning.

It was strange.

She started on the second slice of toast, starting to wonder what this year of school would bring...

 

[Zincspider]

Geoff Tinnay

Ahhh… your mind is a complicated thing.

You do so well on believing that peace and calm are the right way.

But what is this? Do you feel a need for revenge? For your father’s death?

No? Are you sure. Let me tell you, revenge is perfectly fine in some situations.

I once killed scores of men, against my better thoughts, for what they did to my loved ones.

No? Not revenge? Then is it loneliness? I can honestly say I had that problem too.

For many, many years I had no one to love.

But, it will get better. Don’t worry.

It will get better. And I can help. ​

-

When Geoff woke, on the morning of the first day of the new year, he had no memory of the voice speaking in his mind. Well… he never remembered anything he dreamed. Who remembered everything they dreamed anyway? But he did remember the routine for the first day of Flemming (been going the same way for two years):

1: Pull school jacket over white, crumpled, pajama shirt (changing was unnecessary)- Check

2: Replace boxers with a clean pair (don’t think about it)- Check

3: Pull on standard issue pants over aforementioned boxers- Check

4: Attempt to get red cowlick down, but fail- Check

5: Pull on leather loafers, as laces are unnecessary- Check

6: Pull roommate out of bed- Check

7: Have roommate ask for ‘5 more minutes’ but deny it by throwing their uniform at them- Check

8: Have Randy (aforementioned Roommate) throw a hissy on not wanting to go to school, and ignore it- Check

9: Shrug on the messenger bag that has been loyal through the years- Check

10: And don’t forget Dad’s watch- Check

“Well, I’m done, Randy old pal. How about you?,” Geoff called, checking his watch, seeing that the bell rang to begin 1st hour in about thirty minutes. Randy’s head poked out of the bathroom.

“No. My pony tail won’t stay down,” he complained showing that the shoulder length piece of hair was going in many directions. Geoff shook his head.

“Listen, buddy. I’ve know you for, what, five years? And you have always had that danged ponytail. It’s caused nothing but trouble. Why not just, I don’t know, cut it?” Geoff questioned casually, walking around in a circle. Randy looked aghast.

“Geoff. You know this thing is a chick magnet,” Randy began, then he put on a shrill tone that could be mistaken for a girl… if you didn’t see him (from the front) “’Oh, look how in tune with his feminine side he is! He is soooo sensitive’ works every time”.

“Yeah, just like when that guy hit on you in the end of the year party,” Geoff retorted, laughing.

“Hey… he, he looked like a chick. I couldn’t help it,” Randy stuttered defensively. He then shrugged and added “besides, at least I an fit in a door without bending down ‘Goliath’”

Geoff shrugged, and looked down. About six and a half feet towards the floor, he could see his feet shoved into huge shoes. Sure, he was big, but he had accepted that a long time ago. His dad had always told him to try out for some kind of sport, but they had never interested him. He took another glance at his watch. Sometimes he wondered why he hung out with Randy. The guy had a knack for bringing up things that had no place in the conversation (i.e.: his height, and size). Not only that, but he seemed to get angry at the smallest things. Something that was against Geoff’s strict code. But, he still hung around the goober.

“I wish I could stay and decide whether looking like a girl or being big is worse, but I need to get moving. See ya!” He shouted, running out the door of the dorm.
-
Five minutes before the bell- At Flemming
It was a… soggy, day. The sky was gray and gloomy. The sun was hiding feebly behind a barricade of clouds. The ground was littered with Freshmen, and Sophomores, struggling to find their friends, and develop the spots they would be hanging out in for the year. The mild madness emanated from many of the frightened students as they looked across the landscape of their new school. A foreign place that they have never gazed upon before, and something could be lurking in every corner.

“Today is gonna be great,” Geoff commented, looking out of the Dorm door onto the entrance field. He clomped down the stone stairway onto the bottom floor and proceeded to do what he did every year, sit down in the lawn, and meditate before school began. Not that he really knew how to meditate, but he thought he had the basics. Just sit down get in the funky position, and forget everything right?

“Ohhhm. Ohhhhm.” He moaned, forgetting the cries of those he could not help, and the ferocious words of those he did NOT want to help.

 

[NPC]

((OOC:

katiekitten, swearing's fine if it fits the character, which in your case it very much does. Hell, evading the swear filter won't get you penalized either; it's not like anyone ever gets reprimanded for it.

Ysavvryl: Ahahaha, was that a delicious Psychonauts reference? "The Milkman Conspiracy" was my favorite level.

Anyway, great job so far, everyone. I'm sorry I couldn't post earlier, but as I said, right now weekends are impossible for me.))

7:56.

Stefan stared at the great clock over the high school's gate, awaiting for the bell to ring, when a foreign body found it fine to piggyback on him. He lurched forward, instantly knowing who it was.

"Stefan, my man. How's life been treating you?"

"Same old, Pete."

"Oh. Well, my summer was great."

"What, you finally out of the closet?"

"Har de har harrr."

Peter McKinley had been Stefan's sort-of friend since the beginning of high school. Believing himself to be the lubricant of every social contact (innuendo intentional), he had probably seen somewhat of a project in Stefan's laconic behavior, and picked him up as another of his buddies. He'd also been voted Sophomore Class Clown in last year's yearbook. Not that Stefan thought much of this title.

Apparently refusing to get off his back, Peter instead continued to hold on to Stefan as he began to walk clumsily toward the gate, expecting the bell to ring at any minute.

"So, my summer kicked ass. Spent a good amount of it with Dad in Florence."

Peter's father was also the American ambassador of Italy, for which his son's summer stories were usually filled with midnight Vespa rides and consequent Italian handjobs which--in all likelyhood--had never happened. Stefan greatly doubted that Pete had ever gotten any farther with a girl than he had, but he sure knew how to act otherwise. The fact that he held connections to all sorts of night clubs and other teenage things though his mother sure helped as well.

"Tell me about it while Burroughs makes his speech. ... Dammnit, I wanted to sit there."

"Where?"

"Over there, under the tree. It's a nice place to wait for the bell."

Peter instantly turned right to survey the area, person-scanning sight activated.

Stefan scoffed. "Quit pointing, it's rude."

"Yes, mom... Oh. That guy's a senior: Vince Reynolds. I don't know him, but I've heard of him. Quite the player. Picks 'em up and drops 'em like cards. See, that's the kind of person you have to look up to. I know I picked up my skills like that."

"Yeah, sure you did."

"... Seriously, where do you get your comebacks from? Anime?"

At that moment the bell rang, sparing Stefan from a retort that he would have probably been unable to come up with. As Peter finally slipped off his somewhat aching back, the dormant tide of expectant students rose to their feet and to attention, pouring in through the gate in torrents of black, red white, and assorted backpack colors. A new year had begun; Stefan wasn't finicky enough to say that he wasn't ready, but somehow it all felt unnecessary and repetitive. Brushing these considerations into his tightly-packed sector of subjects ignored, he began to march in, until he bumped into a girl's shoulder.

Rolling his eyes at himself for his idiocy, he took a moment to stare at the girl, who seemed somewhat surprised. Dark hair, somewhat appealing green eyes. Stefan thought that her face looked familiar--as in he had seen it before, but never actually talked to her. As she recoiled from being bumped into, something attached to her backpack seemed to jingle, apparently a bunch of... gypsy jewelry or something. Stefan fleetingly wondered if it was a new fashion as he caught Peter off the corner of his eye, giving him the thumbs up as he walked into the school.

... Realizing that he hadn't said anything until now, he once again caught himself in his stupidity.

"Uhm. Sorry." And with that he turned halfway forward, catching up with Pete on their way to the beginning-of-school assembly.

((OOC: My next post will get students through the assembly, introduce Principal Burroughs and Jayanti, and send everyone off to period one. Now's your time to engage in some early character interaction if you want, or write your character arriving to school if your first post didn't end in that. Otherwise, just wait until my next post. As to when this post will be, it depends on how quickly everyone responds; I'll be up late tonight, so I might post then if there's been enough replies. Otherwise I can hold it back 'til tomorrow morning or so.

I know we're getting quite slowly through this day, but that's because it's the first one; once schedule becomes routine days will go by quite quickly, not to mention we'll have several timeskips. Just so you don't fear that this RPG will never end or something.

Oh, and the discussion thread's been updated with new downloads.))

 

[Ysavvryl]

((OOC: You can't forget the Milkman Conspiracy. Never ever.))

“It’s fine,” Spooky said, but the boy with black hair had moved on ahead.

“Who was that?” Kay asked.

“I dunno.” She tapped her strap, making sure all four of the bell bands were still on. Their clasps were reliable, but she hated to think of losing one. “I think he’s a junior. I might have seen him around.”

“Like where? He’s kinda cute.”

“Kay, you silly.” She smiled and shrugged. “Well, I don’t think he was on Track... or in Cooking Club. Maybe he was in Math Club; then again, I wasn’t there much last year.”

“Are you tutoring that this year?”

“No, sorry. I’m trying to simplify my schedule. Trying to, anyhow. I’ve probably just seen him around.”

“Phooey. If I had his name, I could...”

“Don’t be doing that again,” she said with a sigh.

“Why not? It works, mostly.”

“And when they figure out that you tricked them, they’re pretty mad.”

“But it’s fun. You ought to try sometime.”

“No thanks.”

“Anyhow,” Kay rolled her eyes. They were casual friends at best, Spooky reflected. Kay was a gossip and, for lack of a better term, an airhead. They had met in Math Club in freshman year; the blond-haired girl had originally gotten mad with her when she had refused to give the answers to her homework problems, but then came back when the other student tutor made her feel dumb.

But she had to watch herself or Kay would start rumors. That’s why she wasn’t going to tell her that she was tutoring still, just not in Math Club. “What do you think the Principal has to say this year?”

“I don’t care; it’s not like anyone but the new kids really listen. Have you seen the new Lady Gaga music video?

“No.” And she didn’t care to see it. Spooky glanced around to see if there was anyone to distract Kay with. It would be rude to brush her off when she had said hello in the first place. “Hey, is that Iris over there?”

“Oh, Iris!!! It’s been too long!”

An answering squeal called, “Kay!!!” The two shoved through the crowd to walk together.

Spooky slipped with the flow away from them.

 

[NPC]

The gym was packed. It was a bit of a long walk there, or at least longer than Stefan remembered, during which Peter recounted his summer to him. Vespa rides, Italian handjobs. Hardly anything ever changes.

He considered the girl that he had bumped into back at the entrance; he remembered her now, if only somewhat. Maybe he'd ran into her in Math Club. God knows he hated it and couldn't help but suppress any memories developed there. Nevertheless, he saw her as little more than another face which he would eventually forget, having a minimal impact on him.

"So, nice job crashing into that chick."

"Oh, I picked that up from you."

Pete snorted. "Yeah, I know it was an accident. But you know, it does work. Not as well as in TV shows, but well enough. Wanna know who she is?"

"Doesn't she tutor?"

"I think so. Her name's Susan something. I hear they call her 'Spooky'."

"... That's pretty dorky."

"I like them freaky."

The exchange came to an end as the two found a pair of empty chairs. The arrangement was nothing exceptional: white, plastic chairs aligned in rows on the gym's floor, which consisted of a large basketball court. On the other end of the building, which consisted of stairs ascending to the border of concrete that surrounded the court, a podium had been set up, along with various decorations, mainly in the school colors. A chipmunk adorned the odd banner. Stefan had grown immune to it, but most freshmen thought that the school mascot was a practical joke by the faculty.

The Principal walked in through the pair of side doors; he was a calm and decidedly slow man, for which his presence commanded little respect. He walked hunched and shuffled his feet slightly, but he wasn't as old as some students portrayed him. Most of all, he was kind.

Principal Burroughs halted upon reaching the podium, tapping the microphone head with a pale hand. Only at this point did the majority of the student body found it appropriate to shut up.

"Erhem..."

The majority of the school tuned out at his first utterance. Really, while the Principal's speech was never exactly the same, the message was identical every year: welcome, remember your responsibilities, do your homework, these are the best days of your life. And then he liked to conclude with a quote by whatever obscure philosopher. Stefan listened out of involuntary politeness, which most of his peers--including Peter--lacked severely, but even he found nothing worthy of note.

Burroughs' tiny eyes twinkled with what seemed to be genuine excitement. A pang of guilt rang from Stefan's gut, as he realized that perhaps this meant quite a bit to the Principal, or least a lot more than it meant to most of his students. The speech echoed throughout the gym thanks to conveniently-placed amps, and a lazy wave of applause rose from the front and middle lines after the Principal seemed to be done. Seniors, sitting at the back, usually didn't bother with doing anything for the school other than the absolute necessary, although of course there were exceptions. The juniors were on the transitional period to reaching a similar state of mind. Freshmen, on the other hand, seemed ecstatic.

"... He's done, right?"

Stefan mumbled back at Peter without actually looking at him: "I think there's announcements left."

"Aw Christ."

"And now... erhem..." The Principal seemed to have a quota of throat-clearings to fill per assembly, even when they seemed unnecessary. Maybe he had a cold. Stefan liked to give people the benefit of the doubt. "... As I was saying, now we will look at some of the new clubs and activities available this year. Flemming's student body is always finding new, productive activities to share with their classmates, and this semester will be no exception." Lowering his glasses, he eyed a sheet of paper on the podium. "So our first speaker is Albert Brett, founder of the Boxing team, which will begin practicing this year."

Applause rose as the student came to the stage. Generally speaking, applause was a bit more genuine when a student addressed the student body, as judging him while he talked was bound to be at least marginally interesting.

The teen who rose to the Principal's call was not exactly what one would expect from a boxing enthusiast. A redhead, and probably a senior, Albert Brett stood at what Stefan estimated couldn't be more than 5'7" or 8", crimson curls striking against rather pale skin. His eyes were small, although he wasn't sure if he was squinting or leering or if his eyes were simply naturally little. At least he did seem to be somewhat well-built. The idea of the Boxing captain not being very strong made Stefan want to join even more, knowing that rising to the top was bound to be easy.

"Yes." Albert started his speech somewhat unnaturally, straightening his tie with one hand and leaning against the microphone with the other.

"Boxing practice will begin Tuesday of next week, along with all other clubs and activities. We'll be practicing in the Activity Room--the same that the Muay Thai team uses--on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. We already count with all the equipment we need and are expecting quite a few members; if you're interested in joining, just talk to me during lunch. We're all looking forward to it--thanks."

He also ended abruptly, for which applause only began several seconds after he was done. Stefan didn't really know if he was talking out of disinterest or stage fright. Either way, he'd be sure to find him during lunch; there weren't that many redheads, so he figured he was bound to stand out.

Clapping as quickly as he could, the Principal regained the floor, straightening the mic out to suit his own height.

"Very well. Thank you, Mr. Brett. Now, we'd also like to give the floor to the representative of the Art Club, which is going strong on its second year..."

Immediately disinterested in the new subject, Stefan tuned out once again and allowed himself to be amused by Peter's jokes and the dirt on Alex Kingston, who apparently took steroids.

"... Here it says that we have Ms. Lenneth Davidson to give the introduction speech for the Art Club. Ms. Davidson, please come up."

Another wave of mostly disinterested applause rose gradually, awaiting the next speaker.

 

[storymasterb]

Sarayu continued to listen to every word spoken by the Principal respectfully, as she always did. Her friends might find it pointless and stupid, but Sarayu believed that respect was very important in the world.

Of course, her friends didn't show her much respect becuase of that.

She continued listening as the Principal announced the Boxing Team. Sarayu wasn't particually interested in that, but still found the effort to listen.

As the Art Club was announced, Sarayu became somewhat more interested. She was more into Film Club though, so she wasn't that much more interested.

"Oh my god, this is so boring!" Danielle muttered sharply from beside her "why does he do this every year?" Sarayu didn't bother to answer her. There was no point.

"Hey, Sarayu," Jessica, another of her friends, whispered from behind her "have you seen that guy over there? The tall, black haired one?"

"Congrats Jess," Sarayu muttered "you've just effectively summed up every black haired, tall boy in this room."

"That one," Jess hissed, discreetly pointing. Sarayu followed her direction and saw him, a tall, somewhat muscular boy chatting to his friend.

"Yeah, he looks kind of good, I guess," Sarayu muttered, turning her gaze away.

(That was Stefan Sarayu was just looking at.)

 

[Azkam]

Day 1 - cont'd 1

[OOC: Sorry, everyone, late post! I only just realized we're already in the gym. But this comes right before that, when Alex arrives at school.]

When Alex’s bus arrived at Flemming Institute, hundreds of students were already streaming steadily across the grounds and through the school doors. Alex checked her wrist watch and grimaced—7:55. She hated having only five minutes to get to class every morning, but today there was surely an assembly to begin the new school year. If she hurried, she could get to the gym in time to pick a nice seat in the back, where there were no rude, seat-kicking idiots behind her.​

Checking the clasp on her bookbag as she stepped off the bus, Alex set her jaw and proceeded to use her shoulder as a ram to force her way through the insufferably slow, chatty crowd. When she entered an open patch in the crowd, she slowed down and allowed her feet to lock into autopilot. Her steely gaze wandered over the ground, taking in random people: some she recognized, some she didn’t—none she really gave a damn about. People’s antics were just amusing to watch, and that was all.​

One girl was sitting against the school gates, engrossed in a novel, completely oblivious to the crowd that was surging around her. Alex watched as the shoes of passers-by kicked up small clouds of dust that settled on the girl’s shoes and backpack. She did not budge, and Alex almost smiled at the comical image.​

Further ahead, some male eleventh grader leaped on top of his friend and called out in cheerful tones: “Stefan, my man…” As the two talked, they looked over to the far side of the grounds. Alex followed their gaze absently and saw someone sitting under a tree.​

She recognized him: Vincent Reynolds. He was in her English class one year…perhaps tenth grade. Slacker, chick-magnet. And known for his string of short relationships, if Alex remembered correctly.​

She looked away, continuing towards the school doors. It was strange, seeing Vincent sitting so peacefully, looking up at the grey September sky. Despite his reputation, he was so alone, as was the girl reading at the gates, as was the rest of the faceless crowd.​

Everyone has someone. And yet…​

And yet.​

Islands, Alex thought, climbing the steps and entering her senior year. We’re all islands. ​

 

[Zincspider]

Forgetting everything wasn't always a good idea.
About halfway through the assembly, Geoff woke in the middle of the school grounds to see that the whole place was empty. He shrugged, knowing that Principal Burroughs would still be reciting his same old, generic speech that was the same he received through his amny years of school. The one every teacher gave, about how everything was going to be great, and fun, and assume responsibilities, and teachers were your freinds. So far, Geoff didn't have a problem with it, but he could still hear in his mind what Randy was saying about now:

"Ack, like miss Winchester (his middle school teacher before coming to Flemming, as Geoff had heard) ever wanted to be my freind. She always gave me extra work for having my hair to long for her liking. Crazy Old B!tch. She never got off my back about it. And we'll have fun? Yeah right. I can see my underwear being flagged across the campus by the football team right now. Just hitting on the captain's girlfreind isn't an excuse, I didn't even know..." and on and on it would go. Now Geoff remembered why he hung around Randy. He was entertaining on some levels, making even a dull assembly seem funny. Now he just needed to get in there.

He stood up from his relaxed psosition and gazed upon the barren yard in front of him. It was pretty darn well kept. Since he had sat down, the dew had dried up, and it looked like the sun was peeking out of the clouds just the tiniest bit. This little bit of sunshine made Geoff give a big goofy smile to no one in particular. He just enjoyed the fact that even on the gloomiest days, even the sun tries to get back out there and brighten up everything. Like a sun should. But he qucikly replaced his smile with a small frown when he reached the doors.

It seemed that they had been locked until the end of the assembly so that no strangers could enter the school. Geoff took a quick glance around to see if there was another way in. After a moment of looking, he saw a glimmer of hope. While the sun shined of its metal pane, Geoff saw the window directly above the auditorium, only one story in the air. Now he wasn't one for sports, but he could surely reach the window by using... somthing. After all, if he didn't get in he could get in trouble for skipping.

But slipping in through a window might arouse wary eyes. He had to do this all sneaky like. Not his forte. Weighing over 270, and having hands the size of pot lids, Geoff couldn't very well climb up the wall easily, or get down from it without making a noise. He needed somthing different to get in.

But before he could think anything else, he heard a slight creak. He turned quickly in the direction of the door to see Randy opening it slightly. He could see a smal, smug smile start to grow under the glare of his glasses.

"Hey Mongo. You stuck outside?" He goaded, starting to chuckle. Geoff shrugged.

"It looks that way don't it?"

"Whatever. I noticed you weren't anywhere, it wasn't hard to see that a red headed behemoth was missing, so I came to see if you were still doing your hum thing out here."

"Great, now let me in please"

"What's the magic word?"

"I said please"

"Wrong word"

"Alakazam?"

"Bingo! Welcome the Chea De La Randal" Randy said quitely, opening the door enough for Geoff to pass, slowly enough so it made no noise.

"You know, your French sucks." Geoff remarked, walking into the hallway to the auditorium. Randy cocked his eyebrow.

"Was that French?" Geoff ignored that statement, and continued into the auditorium. He decided if a teacher asked where he was, he would say the bathroom... even though with Randy follwing him, it would be weird. He took the nearest seat he could, and tried not to make much noise. But he couldn't help but groan when he heard his neighbor start talking about Alex Kingston taking steroids. He had heard that one enough through the years. Then when Randy took the seat next to him, he realized he had two wisecrackers around him now. Just freaking dandy.

It was the first time Geoff was annoyed in a long time.

(OOC: Geoff just sat next to Pete.)