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Post by "Unfettered" on Apr 26, 2009 23:45:03 GMT -8
OOC: Taking PHS #42 Into Account... PHS #259 Has Been Rebuilt. From Here On, Should Anyone Want To RP On PHS #42, It Would Probably Be Improbable For Them To Transfer To PHS #259 Unless Something Was Settled Between The Two Moderators..."The Best Rapper Is A White Guy,"
"The Best Golfer Is A Black Guy,"
"...And Germany Doesn't Go To War." But the world had ended. The world had ended.
The world had ended.
Public High School #259 had been destroyed. All the residing students of all demographics had been sent to the nearest school, all the way to the north, in the boarder of San Francisco, all the way to Public High School #42. However... few had stayed behind. Militia had gone and left, many from Public High School #552, all the way from New York, had left for distant parts as well. Many had left, 'til there was barely anything left to populate. But those who had stayed behind made hell. Lots of it.
...A German smiled, as he looked at the new buildings, sitting by the flag pole. All new, pristine, just waiting to get broken up by a few fights. His plan had worked well. While not the entire reason for Public High School #259's recreation, he'd certainly like to think that the increased amount of violence had helped out a bit, helping put pressure on the local academic institute to hurry along construction to contain the "rabble rousers."
But, this was not the Public High School #259 that "Unfettered" knew of, was born with. No sooner had the smile gone on his face, that it had it departed. After all, everyone he had known, fought with, started rivalries over, lusted with, struggled on... All vanished. All gone.
The student dean, "Kaufman" had died.
Many of the teachers had been reassigned to Public High School #42. What the German had, in turn, was a victory, but an empty victory. After all... any and all epic ideas for glorious battle or anything of that dramatic bit had flown out the window. And he was getting along in years, as well. He'd been stuck as a Junior, because of his lack of school participation, and juvenile record. But his "foster" guardian from the Correctional Facility had been good to him, even helping him out. He'd finally tended to what he needed to: A license, a car... and while not a family, at least an ordinary home.
His money, restaurant... all of it had been liquidated, stored for another time. No, he had to get back on his feet, while given the chance. For once, "Unfettered" was just a typical teenager, just a year short of adulthood. Such a surreal feeling---All just reinforcement that this was not the place he had grown up in.
Even the new faces (many of them Freshmen and the sort, out of the more safely protected middle schools), however, did not fail to avoid him, even as he sat by the flagpole. He still had on his black jacket, his scarf, his Nazi eye-patch, his entire body covered and layered with the same attire, maintained and kept clean with time and patience. The only difference in this intimidation, however, was that the German had no need of it anymore. For it certainly wasn't usable in this environment. Even most of the others who had taken part of his group, the "Remnants," had already begun to integrate back into the public, swayed by the masses. Yes, a few fights started up here and there already, but... nothing like the old days. Not yet, anyways. If ever again.
Just "Unfettered" remained. Stubborn, defiant... sitting underneath that flag as it waved in the cold air, the sun shining warmly in a case of double hypocrisy.Edit: Put In Italics Over Text.
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Post by Your Mom~ on Apr 27, 2009 0:00:08 GMT -8
"Avoir un jour agréable à l'école, cher. " Have a nice day at school, dear.
Arielle, what she was now to call herself, stepped out of the car, pulling her backpack over her shoulder and waving to the woman in the driver's seat. They had the same long, dark hair, the woman's pulled back in a bun while the girl's fell freely to the small of her back. The girl waved to her mother and closed her door, turning to face the school that would be her new home for however long.
It was brilliant, new looking. She had been told it was just reopened because it had suffered a large amount of damage in an earthquake. Arielle had never witnessed an earthquake, and luckily had moved here after the damage had been done. There were still many buildings in the inner city that were cracked and roped off with orange plastic fencing, signs warning passersby to beware of falling...whatever. Brick, stone, wood, cement, plaster, glass..
"Va ici rien." Here goes nothing.
She muttered to herself, taking her first steps toward a new school and a new life. Hopefully better than the last, and though she was shaken up inside like this place had supposedly been, she too had a shiny new exterior. Let's see what this place has to offer.
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Post by "Unfettered" on Apr 27, 2009 0:32:26 GMT -8
Uncanny Timing, Paced Aggression Even the German knew that all this peace would make him snap. Discovering drama and the arts had helped as a slight vent, but a very large portion of him still yearned for something more. Mr. Asiv had called him forth, for a job that meant he was a rival to the pillars of PHS #259. Now... where were the Pillars? Perhaps a tournament would be set up or something in the nearby future. His eye continued to sift through, as the new day drew on, as classes would begin to start up. An awkward day.
English was up in about twenty minutes. English with---Actually, he still hadn't memorized the name yet. Either way, he didn't look forward to it. With the lopsided schedules that were going about, because of the strange time school was forced to start up again, many of the academic features had been contorted accordingly. Well, that, and the German wasn't the best at English, though he liked to write (go figure, if that makes sense). All these increasing little irks and frustrations just continued to pile up and grow, even as the students continued to be dropped off. His eye was gazing about more frantically, for anything, for any excuse to set him off---"Va ici rien."*Glare*
...However, as viable as she was as an excuse to take his rage out on for being and speaking such ridiculously fluent French in southern California, she was a petite looking girl. He had not enough reason to really start anything up with her yet, without making a complete and total ass of himself, nor not enough personal excuse to get into it. Instead, his mouth opened, as he leaned up from where he sat."Oh. Großartig. Jetzt sind die Franzosen hier. Wie ganz reizvoll," [Oh. Great. Now the French are here. How completely delightful.] he growled out slowly, his hands sliding to rest on his knees, his jeans ruffling lightly, as he leaned over towards her, his face scowling slightly for no real reason, apart for livid racism, his blue eye scraping at her face. |
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Post by Your Mom~ on Apr 27, 2009 0:40:08 GMT -8
"Oh. Großartig. Jetzt sind die Franzosen hier. Wie ganz reizvoll,"
Arielle did not understand the words, but she certainly understood the tone. Male, grouchy. Ballet flatted feet stopped their momentum, and she turned her head to face the source of the grumbling...to find a white haired boy glaring openly at her. What in the world was HIS problem? His eyes held the wrath of a hundred wrongs, and yet all she had done was walk onto campus. She returned his glare with an inquisitional look, quirking a thin eyebrow. Perhaps he was mistaking her for someone else.
"Z-Zorry..?"
Her voice held a heavy French accent, but her tone was light and soft. part of her just wanted to keep walking and ignore this belligerent boy, but part of her was too curious to turn away.
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Post by "Unfettered" on Apr 27, 2009 0:58:59 GMT -8
Size Don't Matter "Z-Zorry..?""Ja. As you should be, mein gut fraulen."...She should have walked away. Into whatever class she had to go towards. However, now she just gave him an excuse to mess with her. His lips pursed slightly, as he continued to consider her with his only eye, his eye-patch hidden beneath a lock of his white hair. Slowly, in his sitting position, he'd been gathering himself into a grouch, his knees bent towards his chest, his palms gripping the edges of the cement corners of his seat. Abruptly jumping down, he continued a bit bent over, raising his head slowly at her, as his face held the same scowl, his lips shut, but his hands pocketing themselves. She'd bitten the bait, but she hadn't stepped into trap."..." ...Alright, maybe bullying wasn't underneath "Unfettered." But he was more then slightly grumpy. What, with the girl's nice, long brown hair, the petite stature, and the gentle voice, all he could seemingly pick at was the heavy French accent. And it'd be hard to do that intelligently. For now, he just stood there, trying to be as tall, glowering, and intimidating as he could be. |
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Post by Your Mom~ on Apr 27, 2009 1:07:02 GMT -8
"Ja. As you should be, mein gut fraulen."
Fraulen was German, that much she knew. But what was with the tough guy act? Had she managed to run into the first bad-humored kid in this school? Honestly? All she wanted to do was blend in as best as possible, but no. She couldn't have that.
"Well, I will keep zat in mind."
She frowned, keeping her dark blue hues on him. Was he going to try to hit her? She had returned home from school many times in Connecticut with a black eye or limping. It wasn't anything new. These Americans were so...so...violent. Nothing like her school back home, but then again, everything was different.
"I don't haff any lunch munny if zat iz what you want."
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Post by "Unfettered" on Apr 27, 2009 1:23:12 GMT -8
Changing Tactics "Well, I will keep zat in mind."A frown. And she was still talking to him. In the logical bit of him, he simply could not understand why she was not walking away from him. Ignoring was a woman's powerful tool, rendering all his masculine ego for nought, after all. There was a subtly in his eye movement, but something changed, as he adjusted his stance, leaning back slightly."I don't haff any lunch munny if zat iz what you want.""Und vat makez you zink I vant hoff lunch money?" he'd proceed to mock her, although in a slightly bored sound. "Vat makez you zink you know vat I vant?"However, "Unfettered" would not lean in towards her. That move was way too cliche, and usually backfired. Instead, he seemed to grow increasingly bored of her, as he remained still for a moment.---His right hand would slowly stretch out of his pocket, as he erected his posture, looking at her, his head slightly tilted to the left, as he continued to look at her, their blue eyes straining against each other. His gloved hand slowly moved out as a fist. Moving slowly at first, it'd increase in speed, as he'd slow extend it towards her as a punch. Faster... faster... faster, the hand slowly extending out---"Poke"*Poke*
His mouth an "O" he promptly shut it, as he'd attempt to poke her on the nose or the forehead, eyes showing nothing of it. If successful, he'd retract his hand just as abruptly, pocket it, look at her for a moment longer, and shrug. If she reacted a bit too quickly and tried to hit him, he'd take the hit---initially. But if nothing else, he'd continue to walk away, heading towards the bathroom. Class was starting in about fifteen to eleven minutes. Might as well take care of the "hard" work while he could.
Not that he'd bother anyone if he was late. The seat next to him was empty. |
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Post by Your Mom~ on Apr 27, 2009 1:34:49 GMT -8
"Und vat makez you zink I vant hoff lunch money?"
That didn't even make any sense. But she recognized the mocking tone, which was confusing because if he was picking on her for her accent, shouldn't he keep in mind that he had an accent as well? Because most of the critical reactions she'd gotten since arriving in America had been from the born-and-bread Americans, or whatever it was they called themselves. Wasn't he more like her? Maybe that's what the problem was. Who knows, she wasn't a psychiatrist.
"Vat makez you zink you know vat I vant?"
"I wuz juzt making an educated gue-!"
And then next thing she knew he was pulling his hand from his pocket, balling it into a fist. Aimed at her face. Faster and faster it came, and the brunette cringed, waiting for the pain to follow.
"Poke."
....!?!?~?!
"..uwhu-?!"
She reopened her eyes, a look of disbelief etched in her features. Not only did he draw back the punch last second, but he announced his poking before bopping her on the nose. It just didn't add up. Her flabbergasted look turned back into an annoyed frown.
And just like that, he walked away.
Her frown deepened, her brow furrowing slightly as she stared at his retreating figure.. The nerve of some people. Hopefully there were enough people here where she didn't have to run into him for quite a while. She should be glad that her face was still in one piece before the bell, but she was also thoroughly annoyed. Adjusting her bag on her shoulder, she made her way into the school to the bright and shiny brand new main office. There were no cracks in the walls or dented lockers or broken glass (yet), though there hadn't been too much of that on the east coast, our young charge really had no clue what it was she was walking into in these hallowed halls.
Arielle picked up her schedule from the secretary along with a map of the school for her convenience. Her first class was English, fantastic. A chance to work on her non-native tongue. A chance to better herself and possibly fit in? Maybe.
She would approach the door just as the bell rang, handing her note to the teacher to inform him that she was new, and ignore the looks from the students already seated in their assigned seats. Their looks made her feel uncomfortable.
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Post by "Unfettered" on Apr 27, 2009 10:55:38 GMT -8
Need To Stop Eating Mexican Food A good fifteen minutes were spent, sitting on the toilet, total discomfort flowing through him. Picking on that Französisch Mädchen hadn't settled his stomach. It made it worse. All the way to the last bits of his loose exertion, did the multiple dull pangs stress and annoy him to no end. How boring it'd become, how his dream had both been realized and destroyed at the same time. And how nonchalantly he was going about this. His thoughts had already moved on, as he shifted his pants up, flushing the thirty-seventh sheet of toilet paper. To top it off, now he was dehydrated. "Unfettered" was feeling pretty good right now.[/sarcasm]
Pocketing his hastily washed/dried hands, he cringed at the feeling of his jacket becoming muddled with the bits of wet in his hand. English with Mr. What's-His-Name was next. There was still a large bit of him that refused to adopt and adjourn to the new English accent in a fluent manner. And Mr. What's-His-Name-Johnson wasn't really taking too kindly to this. Not that the German minded, the man was right, after all. He himself was just... stubborn, and he understood that. That wouldn't stop him from putting a scowl on his face, the moment he quietly opened up the door, as he began to walk to his seat automatically, Mr. Johnson still taking role---"Ze fricken..."He almost paused. But "Unfettered" kept on walking, and sat down casually in his chair. The moment he spotted her, he had half a mind to get the hell out. Französisch Mädchen was his seating partner.
For God's sake.
Reaching in his jacket to pull out a notebook and a pen, he meandered onto forcing himself to ignore the girl. But he couldn't really concentrate---Instead, what he was "writing" came out as chicken-scratch, as he practiced little messages.
Forcing his eye downward, as he became a bit more malevolent, his writing available for her to see... |
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Post by Your Mom~ on Apr 27, 2009 14:40:46 GMT -8
Mr. Johnson, as his name turned out to be, introduced the new student to the class. Arielle wasn't sure whether she should wave or speak, so she ended up just standing there awkwardly for a minute before he directed her toward a seat....NEXT TO THE GERMAN BOY.
Oh, of all the luck..
Arielle tried not to show displeasure on her face as she made her way to her seat, setting her bookbag down at her feet next to her. She took out a notebook and pen, flipping open to the first page and setting the pen on top as she waiting for the lesson to start. The boy was already scribbling away, and when she glanced over, she could see plainly what he was writing.
I wasn't aware boys kept diaries.
Uncapping her pen, she wrote in the margin of her paper.
'I don't think that's necessary.'
Azure gaze stayed to the front of the class, listening to the teacher as he began his lesson. If there was one thing about going to school in America, it was that she was going to take the opportunity to learn something even under false identity. And no German bully was going to change that.
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Post by "Unfettered" on Apr 29, 2009 2:54:20 GMT -8
Intentions 'I don't think that's necessary.'Raising a brow, the German watched as she looked back up, looking attentively to the lesson at hand. And for a while, the German kept it at that, writing a few notes on the previous page, but constantly flipping to the second one, slowly etching out a response...Now, previously, the German had just been grouchy and irritated at his situation, but now he was grouchy, irritated, and curious. While still early in the morning, the gears in "Unfettered's" head were beginning to turn a little more easily. More then just natural racism towards the French, he wanted to see just how strongly this new French transfer was loyal to her own country, amongst other things. Among other things.
---His gaze shifted to the teacher, as he kept up his disposition towards her, his back bending backwards as he stretched slightly, yawning silently as he did, arms shooting out with fists, before settling back into his chair normally. A quick look around revealed the general setting of the class to be a bit lethargic, the ones earning their "A's" versus the ones maintaining their "D's" and "C's" apparent. Both his elbows stayed towards the back, as he scratched his upper-back with his chair, holding onto the edges with a death-grip. Then stare at the girl for a moment, consider her for a moment, before looking right back up at the teacher again, waiting for the next warm-up, or for the in-class paper they'd have to do.
...Hoping for a warm-up, but the way today was looking, a surprise essay was just the last thing the German needed. |
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Post by Your Mom~ on Apr 29, 2009 3:04:44 GMT -8
Arielle had been in the US for two years now, having come over when she was 15. At 17, her accent was still heavy, but her English had improved greatly from complete submersion in the school systems, moreso than her mother's English. She still, however, recalled her home country and missed it greatly. She missed her old life.
The junior paid attention to the teacher speaking at the front of the class, the German boy's posturing disrupting her peripheral vision. She wouldn't give him the humor of glancing over at him, he was a jerk. ...But she couldn't help but notice the irritating little scribble he made in his margin.
It didn't make any sense. He may as well have said one of those annoying 'your mom' jokes that seem to be popular.
'You might want to check your sources before you start making statements that are untrue.'
Alright, so she wasn't all that great at 'garbage talking' but she couldn't let him win this posturing battle. She wasn't strong physically, but Arielle was rather strong mentally. This was a fight that she preferred. Wits and intelligence instead of brawn.
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Post by "Unfettered" on Apr 29, 2009 19:01:21 GMT -8
Essay, WHAT? 'You might want to check your sources before you start making statements that are untrue.'...Looks like she did have a bit of national pride in her. Perhaps it was mean, but as he read, he shook a little as he laughed silently, his lips turning to a subtle smile.---
That was until the teacher made an abrupt change. Warm-up essay. His face shot forward and his eye widened. Yeah, not a good day."...Crap."Topic...
What can you imagine yourself doing ten years from now? An easy topic, but... |
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Post by Your Mom~ on Apr 30, 2009 23:45:13 GMT -8
'Then what're you doing in our count'
Count? Oh...country. Just as the German was writing, the teacher wrote a topic on the board. Arielle glanced up as the teacher brought out the surprise assignment. A short essay on what they dream they would be doing in ten years. The girl flipped the page from the marginal conversation and set to work, starting with her name and date at the top. She ignored her neighbor and turned her conversation inward, thinking about what she could see herself doing in ten years.
In ten years, I would like to be finished of college and starting my career. I love to cook, and would like to own my own restaurant where I can share my recipes with everyone. I do not know where I would like to be, either in this country or back in France, or even anywhere in the world. If I do not own my own restaurant, I would like to travel. I want to see what there is to see and all of the beautiful places at in the world. Maybe I could like to be an écologiste, someone who will take care of the world and preserve its beauty.
She went on to expand on her ideas, but truth be told she wasn't completely sure she wanted to do. She had time to decide of course, and really, to try and picture herself in ten years was virtually impossible.
Arielle really hoped they wouldn't have to share them in class.
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Post by "Unfettered" on May 3, 2009 13:48:28 GMT -8
Ten Years From Now? Great. Prep-essay, just what he needed. No longer focusing on her, he shifted to his own notebook, ripping out a clean sheet, as he got himself set up... Name, date, period in the right hand corner, then...
The staring. Ten years from now, where would he be? Everything was so focused on the here and now that it almost seemed an impossibility. Strange and funny for someone who valued himself as a plotter of sorts.---If that wasn't a clue to how large of a dramatic romanticist he was, he'd think painfully to himself, then perhaps he really was normal compared to a lot of others. Well... Hm.---
---At this point, "Unfettered" paused and took a look at his writing. Only to realize he'd pretty much digressing this whole time."---We'll be having people go up to read what they've said as soon as we're all finished... in five or so minutes. Then, turn in your papers to me."Fuck his life. Chuckling to himself, he shook his head. Oh hell, he was on a roll now, he'd just BS it down when he went up there.Scatter-brained, digressed, dramatic, romantic, idealist. Scoffing at himself, he glanced over, trying to eye what Französisch Mädchen was writing.
His brow raised. |
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