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Post by Richard Stock on Mar 24, 2016 23:19:37 GMT -8
OOC: This thread will be invite only and bleed into different parts of the day with different player characters. It was the day after "the attack of the Gods."Richard woke up with his sheets all pressed up nicely around his body. And the badge sitting on the small table next to him. He sniffed himself. He sniffed the bed. He frowned dissatisfied. ... After changing the sheets and giving himself a proper scrub-down and a fresh pair of pants under his trousers, the young Englishman go out his broom and dustpan to clean up the kitchen. Spotless. Not a shard of glass anywhere. ... Richard frowned dissatisfied. 'Bloody mad. Raving mad.' He didn't check the cabinet. No, he wouldn't sully his morning by checking that bloody thing. The Freshmen had plans for today, a cafe to focus on, information to gather. He quickly cleaned himself up, enjoyed an early breakfast and hurried on his way to school in his usual attire: a spare pair of black pants, black shoes (he cleaned it up a bit, the watery floors from yesterday making some of the color run), a white long-sleeved button-up collared shirt with the top two buttons undone, black belt, ponytail... and a satchel filled with a wider variety of food (something usually for Simon on food-test days) along with the days homework (finished two days prior). The British kid would be seen waiting outside of PHS #259, arms crossed as he set his weight onto one leg, shifting it every three minutes or so. He'd wave and greet anyone that he recognized with that unsmiling face of his... until he saw @arathornteros or "Wren" the goth girl. ...Over the top of his long-sleeve shirt, on his right arm's bicep, the "Militia" badge would be worn rather openly. "Hello there, can we talk?" if the goth girl. Or... "Arathorn, you free?" OOC: Either Arathorn or Wren posts first. The thread will close until that section of the thread is done. You'll be notified OOC when it is your turn and/or with a tag in a post in this thread.
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Post by "Wren" on Mar 24, 2016 23:57:30 GMT -8
In all honesty, she shouldn't have gone back to the school. Delilah had been against it, though she didn't give any credible reason why other than a 'bad feeling' about the place. Usually, the older woman's instincts were good enough for her to heed, but some obstinate, stubborn feeling persisted in the waif-like girl. It was fine. It had been weird and even scary, but it was over and done with and, until proven otherwise, back to normal.
Refusing her care-takers offer for a ride to school, Wren stepped off the bus a block up the road, striding down the side-walk and into the school yard with her nose in a book, the same as yesterday; The Wolves of Calla. Absorbed as she was, Wren was not paying attention to who was around her until a familiar voice spoke up. She turned her annoyed glare onto the pale face of the short blonde kid, the one from yesterday with the posh accent. Her frown deepened, tugging down around her dark lips. Memories of the day prior flashed in front of her eyes. Richard. Or something.
"The middle school is about four blocks that way," she answered him jerking her head in the indicated direction. "You'll be late."
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Post by Richard Stock on Mar 25, 2016 0:17:53 GMT -8
It was Richard's turn to frown, as the girl informed him of the location of the middle school. Why on earth did he need to know that? He looked to the side, as though expecting some sort of gag to play out, his eye-lids rising up in confusion.
"No I... won't?" he shook his head, not understanding her point raising his hands palms-up in the air in a very "what, I don't get it" gesture.
---He dismissed it, he wouldn't have too much time to talk since it was almost first period, shaking his head again. He did this while staring up---but not too much further up, he noticed. A good 3-4 inches up, much to his usually straining neck's relief. But then again, it was Wren a goth girl, so he wasn't exactly surprised by her attitude and his inability to understand.
"Um, I'd like to talk, "Preferably after school, "To sort yesterday.
"Do you have the time? "I'm free after school is out, "Meet back here again?"
He hugged his free arm under his satchel-holding hand's elbow for further support as he switched his weight again.
Richard was forgetting something crucial...
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PLAYED BY Gemmy
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Post by "Wren" on Mar 25, 2016 0:29:37 GMT -8
Wren narrowed her eyes further. Was he being deliberately dense, or was he just actually dense?
...Probably the latter.
But he wanted to talk about yesterday. Which, of course, he proposed to her in "Haiku?" Again. Not so much a question as a statement, a little incredulous. Very odd. Unnecessary. Really, though, what was left for there to talk about? The incident was over with. Finished. Done. If at all possible, she would like to avoid another event like that in the future.
Nonetheless, she found herself intrigued. Delilah had either been unwilling to answer or genuinely did not know how to respond to Wren's questions as they talked about the incident until late into the night. If Richard had answers, she would do well to seek them. To further prevent such things from occurring around her again.
"If you'll be done with your afternoon nap by then," she agreed in her own way. "It better be worth my time." she cast him a warning glance over her shoulder and strode on ahead, returning her eyes to her book as she walked into the school.
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Post by Richard Stock on Mar 25, 2016 0:48:53 GMT -8
"Haiku?"
Richard caught himself mid-way through adjusting his weight and raised a brow, perhaps equally incredulously. He didn't know what he was doing wrong or if he had indeed done anything wrong. Was she just stating things or requesting that he do so or observing that he was?
"If you'll be done with your afternoon nap by then. It better be worth my time."
Further confusion drew upon the young man's face.
"I don't usually..." before he began to realize that she was walking away. And then he remembered---He didn't actually know her name. "Wait, hold on a moment, please! "I don't know your name!"
He'd try to call out to the goth girl with his free hand if she hadn't delved in too deep, but he didn't chase after her since he couldn't afford to miss Arathorn.
In other words her answering him?
...That was unlikely.
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Post by "Wren" on Mar 25, 2016 0:53:32 GMT -8
It was, indeed, unlikely.
Wren ignored the young man's shouting from behind her. Or rather the boy. She was not convinced he wasn't too young to go to this school. He had to be, what? Twelve? Perhaps if he asked earlier she would have deigned to answer, but as it was, the goth wasn't about to go around shouting her name like a proper idiot.
And so, Wren walked on, leaving Richard to whatever important naps or daycare he was supposed to be attending until the end of the school day.
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Post by Richard Stock on Mar 25, 2016 0:59:43 GMT -8
And so the boy was ignored. "Bloody... FORGETFUL GIT," he'd curse himself. YES, the goth girl shared a eeriely strange parallel to the madness that was sprouting in his mind, but that didn't mean he had to forget his manners. His eye twitched irritably for a moment before recomposing himself with a sigh. He still had to catch Arathorn, after all. And, as previously planned, he'd call out to him as he had intended, waving with his free hand. "Arathorn, you free?" is how Arathorn would be greeted. OOC: "Wren" has exited the thread (for now)! It is now @arathornteros 's turn!
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Post by Deleted on Mar 25, 2016 10:54:38 GMT -8
Arathorn's eyes ever so slightly opened, awakening to the sound of leaves rustling, and the sun caused his eyelids to glow when he closed them again. As they reopened, he seemed to be staring directly at a tree branch that hung over him about 20 feet above him. It's green leaves were clothed in dew, as was the grass surrounding him. Tilting his head and eyes up, Arathorn could see his punching dummy still standing there. The sight of this jogged his memory, in that last night he had been sparring with the pink and rubber man last night until it got to the point where he just kind of... collapsed.
As he sat up from the ground, Arathorn shifted his weight onto his left hand, his left leg going under his right, and his right elbow resting on top of the right knee. His gaze shifted upward toward the trees again. A hawk sat on a branch that was in front of him about 15 feet and up another 25. It's quick-moving head seemed to keep in eye contact with him until it flew off and away, as if to tell him to get up.
How could he ignore the commands of the animal kingdom? Well, not exactly "commands", more like "suggestions". In turn Arathorn stood, his hands sliding into his black jean pockets. He was without a shirt, revealing his muscular torso and arms. Honestly because of such a body he probably would have been quite the so-called "ladies man" if it wasn't for his empty and distant personality. Turning his body around this way and that as he stretched, he scanned the ground for his shirt. "Did I not leave it on the dummy's base?" he asked himself in his mind as he remembered the previous night's actions.
And then he found it... on the dirt... covered in dirt... and wet from dew. He would have been quite frustrated normally, but then again, he wasn't exactly normal. He picked it up, looking at the left and right side of it, seeing the dust sticking to it. "Well, that's unfortunate," he uttered under his breath, starting for his house.
...
Walking out the front door of his home, now wearing a regular t-shirt that was a mixture of black and dark grey and a different pair of dark jeans, he pinned his new found badge to the shirt. He didn't really know why he felt the need to wear it, though. Was it out of pride; a sign of victory that he used to boast? Was it out of the feeling of belonging; a badge to show that he was a student there and that he belonged to 259? Who knew? All he knew was that he wanted to wear it, and that was that. Slinging his grey backpack over his shoulder, he made his way to the school, hoping to either get some adventure, or maybe meet some new friends. It was kind of weird getting used to it again, this whole friends thing, but he already made one out of Violet, who was to say he couldn't make more?
...
The school bustled with students going in every direction, him being one of them. Just as his first day, the giggles of the girls and the laughter of the boys fused with their numerous conversations and chatter. He wish he could go back to hearing rustling leaves and birds, but this is what he was just going to have to deal with. He was on his way to class when his movement was halted by the sound of a familiar voice.
"Arathorn, you free?"
Ah yes, the British male. The four foot nine inch freshman with dirty blonde hair that spoke in haiku. What else did he know about him.. well he had hazel eyes, but that was about all Arathorn could remember. Well from what happened yesterday, he did seem to be a good leader, one that has no fear in taking initiative. Quite the respectable trait.
Arathorn stopped about 10 feet from the man with a pointy tail and turned toward him, his empty eyes meeting Richard's. Frankly, Arathorn probably needed to get to class, but e was used to skipping it anyway, no big deal. "Yes," he replied quite simply, giving a subtle nod of his head. "May I be of service?" Arathorn asked/offered, his hands still in his pockets and his backpack hanging over one shoulder.
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Post by Richard Stock on Mar 25, 2016 14:20:21 GMT -8
Richard took the moment to take in the man as well. Y'know. Just... the man who had a good foot or so over him. He didn't have a good chance to actually take in Arathorn's qualities---just his actions and his striking white hair, the former being more telling to the Englishman. He would return the nod in kind.
"May I be of service?"
"Yes, I've sought you out. "Your abilities? Valuable. "I am not alone," noting out that Arathorn's skills... talents, practices would bring him up to higher notice as of his performance the day before. There was one person that came to mind that would probably be also looking for Arathorn eventually if he did not---provided that said person thought as similarly as Richard did.
He walked forward, closing the ten foot gap down to four feet, his satchel held before him.
"I seek info, eyes, "Yesterday I left early," he frowned, a mixed resolve as he frowned harder. "Meet up at lunch time?" finally offering up his bag, opening it.
...Lunch meats, breads, condiments, all separately packaged, all waiting to be assembled. Two whole thermoses with two extra cups, just in case the group got larger. And Arathorn was the guest of honor. A hopefully feasible compensation for Arathorn's time.
And also because skipping class was wrong and Richard didn't want to see his grades slip (especially after the fun---if stressful---SJ-run tour).
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Post by Deleted on Mar 25, 2016 23:31:46 GMT -8
Curiosity and confusion brushed across Arathorn's face as he looked at Richard the way birds do when they're confused from something.
"You mustn't speak in haiku constantly. It can make for confusing and unclear speech, and others may not notice what you're doing, causing them to be lost as to why you choose the wording you do. This in turn causes problems when socially interacting with others through speech. Just a mere suggestion. Nonetheless, yes I would be available at lunch," the white haired young man informed with a monotone voice of logic.
With that, Arathorn would walk off to class provided Richard had nothing else for him.
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