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Post by schrodinger on May 3, 2010 4:05:49 GMT 8
For more than a year Venser had dutifully performed the same morning ablutions: wake up, stare at ceiling, lie on bed in abject despair until sense of needing to fulfill basic bodily functions outweighs sense of crushing futility inspired by the fact that nothing in the world is worth doing anymore because of how a single simple decision has damned you to kicking yourself with every step you take and you know that you damn well deserve it, return to bed, go to sleep.
But not today, for today was a special day indeed! It was, after all, the dawn of a new age for him: his first day of school! A joyous occasion, on par with the birth of one's firstborn, or one's first advent into the sensuous sphere of sexual congress leading to aforementioned firstborn, surely!
He cast off his blankets, washed up, paying meticulous attention to his personal grooming - it wouldn't do to give the impression of being untidy, oh no, or how was one to achieve aforementioned advent? - no hair on his head out of place, every vestige of stubble carefully excised, each tooth polished to the point of incandescence (his smile could have powered a solar farm), he was a paragon of perfection, narcissus in his bathroom.
Getting dressed was no less colossal a task - what was that, uniforms were unimaginative and insipid, and they invalidated the entire point of dressing well? Codswallop and hogwash! A perfectly pressed, precisely-fitted shirt, a pair of trousers that accentuated rather than concealed his figure, a blazer that would have made Dolce and Gabbana weep (if they'd ever caught sight of it), every element of this carefully assembled ensemble came together to form a sartorial gestalt that was no less than the new face of vogue.
Strike a pose, there's nothing to it.
He recalled the lyrics of a song, humming it as he did up his tie in an expertly-executed half-windsor, putting the final touches on his masterfully designed image - crisp, yet sincere, striking enough to make a lasting first impression, yet not enough to intimidate. Perfect. Just perfect. He was going to face this day and every one after it with this as his avatar, crafting his future step by step, just as he'd done his appearance.
He flopped face-down onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow and curling up with the sheets. It was all and very well to talk about new beginnings, but trying to pretend that this was enough to make the past go away and leave him alone, and stop tapping his shoulder and then poking his face when he turned around to look was a bad joke, and the punchline was his inexhaustible sense of fatigue.
Just as the first attempt to use fecal matter as an energy source for flight was ill-advised, this shit would not fly. He let out a protracted sigh, one that reached deep into the recesses of his mind, picking up weaknesses and insecurities, sending them on a joyride through his system - and eventually, out of him. He knew that overcoming depression wasn't a walk in the park, but even if it were a walk through a drab, dreary hallway decorated by a demented interior designer whose entire repertoire consisted of images of your greatest failures and people whom you'd let down, at least the walk had the decency to end somewhere instead of meandering on pointlessly.
The walk never ended, did it? Not for him, not for anyone else in the world. He couldn't use a pretty face as a symbol of protection any more than he could use a hammer to brush his teeth - it would be absurd and painful. He wasn't going to face the future wearing that mask (or indeed any other), it would be ill-fitting and fall off at inopportune moments, leaving him up the metaphorical creek without a paddle.
No, he reflected, staring into the mirror. His hands planted firmly on either side of the sink, he breathed in the scent of flowing water for a few moments to get his figurative shit in gear. There might - no, there must - be new directions to take, but there was only one way to go. Forwards.
Is this face really strong enough?
Another snatch from another song. His hair was ruffled, his clothes crumpled, and his overall demeanor was less than glowing. But c'est la vie, if that was what it took to be honest with himself. Then he caught sight of himself in the mirror and decided that looking like he'd been out all night committing debauchery in uniform wasn't the best way to go about making friends and influencing people. Well, not the right kind of friends or people, anyway.
A quick redressing (figuratively and literally) later, he was back at square one, appearance-wise. But this time he wasn't trying to become the mask. This time, the mask became him.
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Post by schrodinger on May 5, 2010 1:08:04 GMT 8
So much for the mirror, time to face the door and everything beyond it. He'd gotten up early in a misguided effort to make himself believe that he was a model student, and that he was a well-adjusted, fabulously handsome, incredibly talented individual with legions of stunningly attractive women hanging off his every word and a list of conquests that would give even the most egregious over-achiever an inferiority complex, but the suspension of disbelief required to make this particular illusion work had by this point settled into a thick, sludgy sediment of incredulity at his own naivete.
So he had some time to kill before school began proper. He stood still for a moment, critically appraising the door that stood before him as a barrier between him and the world, a symbol of volitional entrance into a dark, unforgiving world where there would be much weeping and gnashing of - no, bad id, principle of charity, remember?
So onward it was, stringing a path together out of make-believe and elan. And onward, at this moment, meant out of his room. Through the door. Into the world at large. There was nothing for it. (Open it! Yes, now step through - no don't stand there gripping that doorknob like it's a loved one's body part, take a step, you pleb! No, forwards, not backwards! Come on, it's like you can't do anything by yourself!)
And so he acted out the part of the whining school-boy, with his satchel (well, attache case) and shining morning face, creeping like snail unwillingly to school. An ordeal not well suffered, perhaps, but such was life, as a crucible refining one's irresolute self from formless clay to forged perfection, an endless process of - oh, there was someone else in the hallway, better stop soliloquizing and pay attention.
"Good morning, Ms. Rosenfield. How nice to see you up so early. What's the occasion?"
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Post by RaineScarlet on May 6, 2010 6:32:06 GMT 8
Kris paused in mid-step. I've been seen. She smacked herself mentally before carefully arranging her facial expression and turning around.
"Venser Savoir," she began with a calm smile. "Good morning. I just happened to wake up early, so I thought I would have something to eat and explore the grounds before class. Would you care to join me?" She asked out of politeness, but in reality, she wasn't particularly keen on the idea.
I'm hoping he'll say no, but if he says yes, I'll just go along with it. Who knows, I might learn something new. She thought, bitterly recalling the past day's events. That was the reason why Leon was currently taking up 80% of her bag.
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Post by schrodinger on May 8, 2010 2:34:45 GMT 8
Intriguing. She's asking me to accompany her
"Oh, may I? I hadn't planned to originally, but since you asked..."
not because she wants me to
"...who am I to reject such a lovely invitation?"
but because she feels that she should.
Venser turned to Kris with an appropriately delighted expression (not quite jubilation, but certainly more than a tug around the corner of the lips), without reflecting a trace of the curiosity that she'd engendered in his mind.
Why?
Being able to read minds was an incredible ability, to be sure, but it came with its drawbacks. Knowing exactly what people were thinking made one acutely aware of their true natures, and sometimes this was knowledge best forgone.
It isn't just manners, that would imply that she feels obliged to behave nicely simply for the sake of doing so -
Sometimes what people chose to hide meant so much more about who they were than what they chose to show. Sometimes white lies illuminated shadowy truths about a person.
and certainly she isn't, she's doing it out of self-interest "Shall we adjourn to the cafeteria, or do you have somewhere else in mind?"
so why does she think that treating others nicely is in her own interest?
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Post by RaineScarlet on May 8, 2010 3:34:13 GMT 8
"Lovely?" "Adjourn?" What's with this flowery language? Kris thought, though not unkindly. Rather, it tickled her linguistic mind to hear someone else use sophisticated language. She almost smiled, but managed to keep it to herself, in fear of looking like a fool.
"I have no preference. The cafeteria sounds fine to me." She answered, and began to set the pace.
Since I'm the one who invited him, it's only proper that I begin some form of conversation. Walking in silence is awkward. But what should I talk about? What kind of subject would he enjoy talking about? Kris sighed mentally at this new complication, and spoke as she walked.
"So, Venser. It hasn't been very long, but what do you think of this Academy? Unique ... isn't it?" She asked, her final question layered with sarcasm.
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Post by Carillus on May 9, 2010 0:16:48 GMT 8
Unique.
The sarcasm dripped from those words.
Unique, eh...? If only she really knew.
Lucetia had overheard the conversation from the stairwell where they had first met the day before, the girl - Kris, was it? - and the mysterious Venser.
And of course, while she had no intention of spoiling a perfectly good relationship (that, coincidentally, seemed to be getting even better), she had a sudden and unexplainable urge to butt in at this very moment.
So she did.
"Unique it is, indeed. Tch tch, Ms Rosenfield. 'Tis folly to judge a book by it's cover', have you never heard that saying?"
Lucetia stepped out from behind the stairwell wall, bag swung over her right shoulder, looking every bit like a dashing, suave young man, the guy of every girl's dreams. Which was, of course, the wrong pose, one she quickly rearranged to portray an image more appropriate of her gender.
"I was about to head to the cafeteria myself, too. If you don't mind, may I join you two?"
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Post by Phagetthree on May 10, 2010 1:00:42 GMT 8
Vareena lay in bed, an impish figure waited by her bedside, a different sort of demon from Bha'khrish, one who served more of as a servant or butler.
"Time to get up, Mistress. School is about to begin."
She rolled to her side.
"Mistress, it's time for school."
She ignored him.
"Mistress, it'd do you well not to be la- WAAAAAA!"
A portal opened up beneath the demon's feet as it sucked him back into the Nether. Swinging her legs over the bed and onto the floor, Vareena sat up and stretched.
Best to appear just like any other student, then, of course, as normal in this institute as normal goes.
Donning her usual suit, she had a thought.
Why not the uniform, then? For conformity's sake.
Hence she put aside her suit and put on the provided uniform. It fitted her comfortably and surprisingly well. Looking into the mirror, Vareena carefully swept her hair over the eye socket, and cast a holding spell over it for good measure.
Her staff, however, she would not forgo. It didn't seem to go well with her good-girl look, but she had grown far too used to the security it provided, and not to mention it's main purpose as a conduit for her spells, amplifying their effect.
Stepping outside, there was already a trio of students making their way downstairs, and not really one to readily make friends, Vareena walked behind them, keeping a comfortable distance and careful not to walk too fast so as not to catch up with them by accident.
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Post by RaineScarlet on May 10, 2010 14:42:54 GMT 8
Kris felt herself stiffen as the red-eyed girl come out from the stairwell, and stepped backwards suddenly. No number of comical entrances could overshadow the chill that ran through her body. Lu..cetia. Images of yesterday's events played through her mind. And then she reconsidered.
No, no. Stop that. Calm down. There are other people here. Social facilitation.
Indeed, there was another person walking some ways behind her and Venser, possibly avoiding them, based on the subdued footfalls. And there was Venser himself, and Lucetia.
"My apologies. You startled me," Kris said without faltering. Mastering improvisation was important.
"I.. don't mind if you join us. That is not completely for me to decide however." She looked over to Venser.
Ha ha, what am I saying. I mind so much, but that would be rude of me... Keep calm.
She tightened her hold on her bag.
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Post by schrodinger on May 11, 2010 23:24:10 GMT 8
"By all means come with, Ms Scarlet. There's some who'd say that two's company, but I've never had a problem with a threesome."
Venser took a step forward, ostensibly to point out the way to the cafeteria, but actually intending to use himself as a barrier of sorts between Kris and Lucetia. Kris' agitation at Lucetia's arrival was unmistakable and indeed completely understandable, considering the girl's frankly standoffish demeanor, though he hadn't thought that that alone was enough to warrant the sort of discomfort he'd sensed from Kris.
Was she simply overly sensitive to Lucetia's personality, or did she object to Lucetia interloping on another level?
Either way, it fell to him to mediate. He hesitated to impute this obligation that he felt to guilt, or chivalry, or any other particular reason, but there was one thing that he felt sure of: he had the ability to make a difference. Everything had to begin around that single premise.
"I'm sure everything will be just fine, Ms. Rosenfield. Shall we?"
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Post by RaineScarlet on May 12, 2010 15:11:39 GMT 8
He invited her. Of course. Why wouldn't he? Even I said that... but I guess I don't really count, since I didn't want to walk with that girl -- or anyone for that matter.
"Of course, everything is fine. Why would you think otherwise? Lead the way then," Kris replied with a casual smile. Carefully practiced, of course.
She kept her distance from Lucetia, who, as demonstrated yesterday, was clearly not human, and was grateful that Venser was between her and the other girl.
Wait, since when...?
He had been beside her before, and had somehow shifted so that his body became a barrier.
It could just be a coincidence. But Kris, being who she was, always over-thinking, couldn't help but wonder, And if it's not a coincidence? How would he know? And more importantly, why would he make such a gesture?
She fell slightly behind and away from the group.
Get a hold of yourself, Kris. You're trusting him too much just because he was nice to you yesterday. You know nothing about him. People pretend all the time. Just look at yourself.
Kris frowned slightly as her mental voice stabbed herself with cruel words. But she was merciless in her judgment--even to herself.
...Making friends is troublesome, and so is making enemies.
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Post by schrodinger on May 27, 2010 0:11:06 GMT 8
Ladies and gentlemen, I'm dying out here.
Venser tried to be a decent person, he really did, yet it seemed that no good deed went unpunished in the cruel cosmology of things. Granted, it would be ungracious of him to demand gratitude, but was every innocuous act deserving of such a reprisal? Her mistrust was most definitely not the reaction that one would expect an act of kindness to elicit. Then again, his ability to perceive her emotions through the veneer of nonchalance she projected was definitely not the kind of talent that one would expect an average person to possess.
...It's who she is, I guess. It's who we all are.
But just because that was the way things were didn't mean that that was how they ought to be. What could have caused her to become so profoundly paranoid? What could have taken the hope out of her eyes and replaced it with fear?
What could he do to help - no, save - her?
Reaching out to her would be a start. He paused and turned slightly, to look at her. His actions said that he was concerned about her in particular. His expression lied that there was nothing more to it.
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Post by RaineScarlet on May 27, 2010 5:38:10 GMT 8
((OoC: He he, sorry, I'm being difficult.))
As Venser paused in front of her, she slowed in response and scrutinized his behavior, trying to get a grasp of his persona. He was responding oddly to her comments. She thought that her acting had been flawless. The small stumble when Lucetia appeared had been reasonably covered up.
So why?
Kris gave him a small smile, "Something wrong? Venser?"
If he's wondering about the fact that I slowed down..
"I was just caught up in my thoughts. Sorry for slowing you down." She stared through his forehead. Not meeting his eyes.
There was something in his body language that bothered her. He seemed to be concerned for her. It wasn't just noticing that she had slowed down, but rather, wondering why she had slowed down. Yet his expression, from what she could see from her peripheral vision, was mostly neutral, not invasive.
Again. He's ... a weird person. He wasn't annoyingly nosy like the others. More like carefully easing into her personal space.
Reminds me of another weird person. Plus he has that totally cute--I mean, Guile. So ... it's not like I'm giving him a chance. I'll just observe him more until I decide what to...
While this was going on in her brain, she decided that at this rate, they would take forever to eat breakfast, so she zoomed past Venser and Lucetia and down the stairs.
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Post by Phagetthree on May 27, 2010 20:23:37 GMT 8
The group ahead was seeming to have some difficulty moving forward, one of the girls had quite obviously balked at the sight of the vampire Lucetia, and some awkward maneuvering later, she had detached herself from the rest of the group and moved ahead.
Rather than trail the group all day, Vareena decided that she would simply move past them instead, quickening her steps and in her hurry, unintentionally brushed past Lucetia and headed for the lift at the end of the corridor.
She pushed the button and observed the lights above the door shift as they indicated the position of the lift, hoping that it would arrive before the duo behind her caught up with her to create an awkward situation with their presence.
[ooc: sry i are retard]
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