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Post by The New Student Dean on Oct 1, 2009 10:03:27 GMT -8
After Coffee NPC: It had been a while. I was personally split in terms of how I felt: On one hand I was amused by the life and sport of all the children. On the other hand, I was irritated by the lack of respect for their elders. But according what Mr. Adam had read to me, a good majority of them had parent issues or lack thereof. All I can remember thinking about at the time was about how this school carried such a sad face in secret.
This didn't stop me from smiling cheerily. If my past few decades taught me anything, it was that life carried on. The bad always got good again. A little bit of hope to always carry around with you, to sew it on your arm, or however that expression went.
...Goodness, I miss The Beatles. Should get that game sometime, see if I can't keep up with the young ones...
---Pardon. You see, I had to tell Miss Cunningham (Bastille, apparently... apparent heritage aside, I can only imagine the impracticality that such a name would have, growing up) that I'd meet her by the flagpole of the school after I'd gotten her some coffee. Even settled it by dismissing her from her from the rest of her classes if she so wished. If she did want to attend them, though, I wouldn't mind. I had the rest of the day off.
Standing about, my bowler hat and oversized jacket on, I looked around with my aged eyes. Began whistling an old tune I think Jin heard once before. Took me a while to get it properly, being so out of practice, but it was good to let out a spray of air.
Those wistful, whimsical tunes... |
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Post by Bastille Amtrum on Oct 5, 2009 19:32:37 GMT -8
Bastille had promptly gone about vanishing after class. P.E. kids claimed she was smoking cigarettes behind the locker rooms, but when the coaches came to check she had once again found her way about misting away. All that was left was the cigarette butt which Bastille had smashed with the heel of her shoe. The British girl had made a mental note to lay low for a while...she was the observer…not the fighter.
Bastille came around to the flag pole about half an hour later. She had dropped by her classes to pick up the homework, feigning illness. The teachers had all grown accustomed to her just ditching so it wasn’t hard for them to believe this time she might actually be sick. She had never used the excuse before.
She walked up to the old man, snubbing her second cigarette. She needed to keep her nerves down, madness was after all…contagious….
“kukuku….” She had to stop a moment and contain her thoughts. Biting her lip so hard it bled. Finally her mind stopped and she smiled genuinely at the old man. Walking the last few paces to stand right in front of him.
“Hey Gramps…how ya been?”
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Post by The New Student Dean on Oct 9, 2009 2:21:36 GMT -8
An Old Man Is An Old Man NPC: 'Took me a while to realize I wasn't alone. I often enjoyed the old tunes of the past so much because of how it reminded me of the past---the more pleasant past, at any rate. That was until the girl was just right there in front of me. However she made raise my left brow at her with a slight curve of the right side of my lip. Miss Cunningham had just put out her cigarette (and at her age... goodness) and made what I could almost swear to be laughing sounds.
I promptly put my hand into my large coat, reaching for something as Bastille bit her lip, keeping my hand there for the moment.“Hey Gramps…how ya been?” "Hang on a sec..." I'd say, taking a step closer to her before pulling out a handkerchief and quickly dabbing it against her lip to prevent the blood from potentially dripping or anything, before holding it out in an offering for her to keep it. Then I allowed myself a grizzled looking grin at her through my beard. "Better now. Much better."Probably wasn't my plac---Oh hell, I was old. Squinting my eyes at her, I shook my head. "M'dear, you should really stay away from the smoke. You'll regret it when you get to my age."But I shrugged, still smiling as if to dismiss it in a joking manner, following it up with a hearty little laugh that echoed from deep in my chest in a soft manner. I looked at Miss Cunningham, nodding a bit more respectfully."Come then, shall we walk and talk or get lunch somewhere? I'm sure you've many a question, eh?" I'd say with a certain crsipness to my voice. Coffee sounded good. And perhaps a panini from Corner Bakery."My treat." |
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Post by Bastille Amtrum on Oct 10, 2009 23:11:19 GMT -8
"your treat old man? feh, lets walk there and talk on the way...food might help the heavy stomach." she joked softly.
For some reason, Bastille worked better around old people. Maybe it was because she had lived the life full of events, so many infact she felt she had lived a full life time. Maybe it was these people who understood her. She shoved her hands on her pocket and let the cigarette fall from her lips to the group. She smudged it with her foot and continued on infront of the old man turning back to smirk.
"come on gramp...get a move on it"
She smirked and turned back to walking looking at the school before ditching.
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Post by The New Student Dean on Oct 23, 2009 21:38:50 GMT -8
Subtly?
"your treat old man? feh, lets walk there and talk on the way...food might help the heavy stomach."
I smiled to myself. "Sounds fair."
With a moment's pause, I watched Miss Cunningham smudge the cigarette underneath. I still couldn't help but raise my brow at the whole thing. Constant new reports that came out about overdoing it with alcohol and lung cancer had stopped me cold a good decade or two ago. Heavens knew I didn't need the help to get to the grave.---
"come on gramp...get a move on it"
---Heh. Apparently, I mused on the details for too long.
Pocketing my hands, I began with a few slow steps before speeding up my walk---though, only so much to keep pace with the girl.
"...I'm thinking Chipotle or some nice coffee or sandwich shop."
...
"He has been wanting to see you for quite some time, by the way."
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Post by Bastille Amtrum on Oct 26, 2009 22:47:19 GMT -8
Bastille skidded to a stop. Her eyes lowered and she stood still for a moment. Containing the memories and the weary blankness in her heart…a deep emptiness, she sighed.
“How about Corner Bakery?” She asked her tone suddenly solemn. She could feel her chest working twice as hard to breathe. Why did she always feel like this, as if the scars of her past where coming back to haunt her. No, she would live with them…like bad dreams she could not forget, and would be forced to agonize over until they simply faded away. She turned to him with an honest smile.
She wanted to hear more, but her smile would have to suffice where her words gave out. In the end she was like a soldier returned from a long war, a girl who in essence and simply lived too full a life too soon. Maybe there was a limit. It felt as if her heart was as empty as her mind…lately, it seemed all she waited for was death.
But with all this inside, she smiled anyway.
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