Singing and Sun (Leta)

[Ric]

"You know what we need more of? People breaking out into song randomly." This optimistic and somewhat reckless idea was brought to the small group behind the school by an obnoxious sophomore whose sole idea of going to high school was to star in a drama production. His 'drama buddies' surrounding him half-heartedly agreed with the notion in order to bypass the awkwardness of him actually breaking out into song. He was a horrible singer.

It was a sunny Monday afternoon at the school. Clouds were a forgotten product of the sky, and like any lovely nature surrounded atmosphere the birds were chirping. Richard, or Ric as he was more commonly known, was enjoying his lunch break by working up a quick sweat. Now now, For once he wasn't hitting anyone. Instead he was focusing his energies on building up his short term speed. He'd marked off the rough distance of twenty meters and was sprinting back and forth between his two goals. Each time he stopped he'd critique his performance, either deciding to work on his pivots, or his initial push, or the length of his strides. He was trying to go through everything, it would be the only way to progress.

It was on one of these breaks, one adjourned by water, that he happened to over hear the optimistically obnoxious sophomore in all his glory. His mind instantly cringed at the notion, his face having a similar affect moments later. It wasn't that he disliked music, or even musicals. He still liked watching Grease with Johnny T as Danny. He just never sang along, for good reason.


"Whoa whoa whoa!" He proclaimed rather loudly as he approached. The group looked perplexed by the sweat soaked lanky freshmen approaching them. "That is not a good idea."

"What's not?" Lackey B piped up, though his question was more present then his figure as he remained seated with his back to the wall on the cool shaded grass.

"People randomly breaking out into song. It's a horrible idea. There's a reason why it's not." Ric was quite passionate with his speech, his tone indicated it as he stopped just within arm's distance of the group's abnormally opinionated drama gleek.

"I hardly think so, but why would that be?" The gleek spoke with smug confidence.

"What is they suck at singing? You'd have a bunch of off key people bellowing out their favorite songs... Nothing would mess! It would be chaos!" Ric hadn't hit anyone yet. Today appeared to be a good day.

"But everyone would feel better. You seem worked up, try it." It was not a good idea to put idea's into Ric's mind. They don't mesh well with whats already in there.

"Hmmm.... Well. . . Okay." A deep breath in and he prepared his lungs. He made it overly dramatic, puffing his chest out, leaning back, opening is mouth wide, but this dramatized beginning didn't start off with any melody of tunes. Nope. Rather, a large hand with strong, slender fingers pushed out from his side, cupping the face of the Sophomore and forcing him back. Ric pushed forward, his legs acting like springs and forcing the two bodies against the wall. A rough thud and a muffled groan later had Ric pinning the drama gleek to the wall.


"MARY HAD A LITTLE LAMB!" Another thud, Ric pulled the head off the wall, slamming it back in. "LITTLE LAMB!" Thud. "LITTLE LAMB!" Thud. "MARY HAD A LITTLE LAMB!" Thud. "WHOSE FLEECE WAS WHITE AS SNOW!" Thud.

His loud voice echoed off the close walls, but the ringing was short lived as his bellowing and off tune singing stopped. Now he was just holding the slumped figure up, and he slowly let go, causing the body to fall vertically onto it's rear, head hung forward.

"Hmm. Your right, I do feel better. But I think I'll leave the singing to those more talented. Wouldn't you agree?" He turned to look at Lackey's A through C, but they'd already run off, probably somewhere around the second 'little lamb', but he couldn't be sure. Turning away from the scene he headed back out toward one of his marked points, the sun glistening off his back as he reentered it's brilliance. He wasn't sure if anyone had seen his one man performance, or if the Lackey's had run off to get someone, but he wasn't about to run away, just back and forth.

[Leta]

Leta had been sitting in a grassy area, bare foot as usual, and dressed in her black jeans and loose grey shirt. She loved the feeling of the breeze gently caressing her face, and blowing through her blonde/ white hair. She listened to the wind in the trees, and the birds and.... somebody crudely singing "Mary had a Little Lamb". This should be interesting. She opened her ivory white eyes, got up, and headed in the direction of the commotion. Cautious, she began to turn a corner, when someone immediately ran into her, almost knocking her over. Damn. She really hated people who shoved, so she pushed back.

"What's your deal?" she asked the kid aggressively, as his friends continued to run.

"I wouldn't go back there, if I were you." And he kept running as well. She gathered that the kids were running away from the man who was singing. Honestly, it didn't sound THAT horrible. She payed no attention to their warning, and proceeded forward. She heard the end of the song, followed by a loud thud, and then some running. He was working out. She couldn't see him, on account of her blind disability, but she could hear him. He was running sprints. She rounded the last corner, and leaned against the wall. He took no notice of her. Yet. She wondered what the thud could possibly have been. People here were curious. Massachusetts was far different.

"You have quite the singing voice." she finally announced.

[Ric]

PUSH! PUSH! PUSH! PIVOT. . . FASTER! GO FASTER!

They say one's self is their toughest critique, in Ric's case that was completely true. He couldn't have enough speed, he couldn't go fast enough, jump high enough, take enough punishment. His eyes weren't keen enough, his brain wasn't quick enough. Nothing was up to his standards, and so he pushed himself, over and over, working harder and harder to see results. Some would say he over worked, but that was their opinion. It was during this time of 'overworking' that the voice came, barely breaking through his concentration barrier. He pivoted and took one step before stopping, his head craning to the side as he saw the young lady leaning up against the wall, no more then 4 feet away from the soft breathing of the unconscious sophomore.

"I think I'm more suited to Opera myself." He joked, his eyes keenly trying to observe the women as he stood his ground. He noticed the pale contrast of her hair to the color of the school, her skin was just a shade darker, and her eyes he couldn't see. It wasn't that he was to far away to make out their color, he honestly couldn't see them. They didn't seem to be there. Just white orbs. He wasn't sure if those were contacts, or if she was some crazy physic or crazy mutant like over half the kids here.

There was always the chance that it was something more normal, like a disability or something. . . It's odd to think that a disability seemed more normal around this place the more you got to know people. He felt he had to test her, she'd obviously noticed him through his loud, off-key rendition of 'Mary had a little lamb', and she'd approached in a matter that suggested she knew where he was. And so he began his test.

He walked in her direction, but towards her left, where as the sleeping body was to her right. He stopped at a rough 45 degree angle from her, about ten feet away before finally speaking. "Don't think of taking credit by standing by him. Bastards to weak to take credit for." He brushed his hand to the side, indicating the drama gleek's rough direction, and watched to see what she'd do. If she was startled, or even unaware of the unconscious body then he knew those eyes lacked vision.

[Leta]

She smiled at his remark of his singing. And then there was the smallest pause; as if he were sizing her up. Leta was never the type to be self-conscious, but she was always underestimated and she hated that. She really wished she knew what he was thinking, or the the very least what he was looking at. First impressions were always different with her than with other people.

She took notice of a faint intake of breath to her right. Due to her blindness, her hearing was beyond exceptional. There was someone else here with them.

She listened as he stepped closer. She kept her face aimed at him as to let him know that she knew where he was, and not to try any tricks. He spoke again, "Don't think of taking credit by standing by him." Credit? For what? "Bastard's too weak to take credit for." Leta squinted her eyes at him to emphasize that she didn't understand. She turned her head toward the faint breathing again. It sounded like they were sleeping. She turned her attention back on the man.

"Credit for what?" She asked innocently. She "looked" down and twisted her foot into the ground, thinking. She was not used to having to tell people about this. She lifted her head back up and said with a small smile, "I'm blind." She thought a moment more. "But if you'd like to take a moment to explain what exactly i am 'taking credit' for, i would be happy to listen." She smiled again, trying to diffuse any possible tension. People always misinterpreted Leta's condition. A year ago, she would've hated even the idea of it being brought up. She remembered one man talking to her verryyyyy sllooowwwllyyyy to make sure she understood everything he was saying. She punched him in the jaw to make that message clear that she was blind. Not dumb. People were idiots. She hoped this guy was different, however if he wasn't, she was used to judgement.

[Ric]

"Just cause your blind doesn't mean you didn't come here for a reason." He stated, his assumptions correct in a way. She'd confirmed it herself, she was visually impaired. To what extent, he could only assume. But since she said blind, rather then impaired, he had to think that her world was nothing but a dark void with an abundance of sounds. She now intrigued him in a way. He wondered if she could see the world as he could, despite their differences. Did she see the beauty of gusting winds and down pours? He wanted to find out.

"I get the feeling your all to happy to listen all the time." A joke towards her blindness, crude? Cute? Just being an ass? Regardless of her take on the matter, he still couldn't help but crack a smile at the jester.

"There's an unconscious drama gleek to your right. . ." That's right, he used gleek in a sentence. "His head met the wall a few times. It made my singing feel better." His explanation wasn't forced at all, but he didn't feel relief or pride by saying these words. To him, they were the truth, and the truth was always to be spoken.

He stepped closer, his body at rest as his eyes continued to observe her, just as her ears did him. As he drew closer he noted that she was rather tall for a young lady, just a few inches shorter then himself. She'd make for a good dance partner, just based on her height alone. His breathing had slowed since he approached his, his breath was officially caught after his tedious and tiring amount of sprints.

"Your more observant then most. I like you." He was to truthful at times. To him, the words 'I like you' had nothing to do with gender. Yet, ladies were often flush when he pronounced this based on a first time meeting. He didn't care either way, he just said them out of habit.

[Leta]

"You're right. I came here to find who that glorious singing belonged to." Leta giggled, remembering his personal rendition of the song. He countered with a witty remark about her always having to listen. This one was funny, but she would have to watch out for him. She could safely assume that he was the type to speak his mind, but she could never be completely sure. She wish she knew for sure what he was thinking. He began to explain who's breathing was to her right. A "drama gleek" as he called him. From his explanation, she could conclude that they had a small disagreement on singing, so he taught him a lesson. Leta was beginning to realize, that she didn't give a shit about other people's fights. She had begun to realize that she didn't genuinely care that people in this area fought a lot. She knew that as long as nobody messed with her or people she cared about, they wouldn't have a problem. She had the mentality that if somebody got hurt, they probably deserved it. She smirked in response to his explanation, and at her realization. He certainly was quite the character. Amusing, to say the least.

She heard him step closer again, and she listened to his breathing. He seemed calm. His breathing had slowed since his sprints. She didn't know whether to be on alert with him, or calm as he seemed to be. So she remained alert. She felt his eyes on her. 'What is he seeing' she thought to herself.

"You're more observant than most. I like you." Hmm. Funny that the blind girl should "see" more than most people. She didn't quite know how to take the compliment. But the statement alone, allowed her to relax.

"Thank you," she said. "You're not so bad yourself." She smiled at him. This was somebody she wouldn't mind keeping in touch with. "My name is Leta."

[Ric]

-'Your not so bad yourself'-

"Gleeky would disagree with you." He said smugly as he formed a very proper gentleman's bow toward the slumped frame of the sophomore. He returned to his upright form, standing casually with his arms draped down by his side as she introduced herself. Leta wasn't a common name, to his knowledge at least. It wasn't common in Brazil, and he assumed the same could be said about the States. He didn't know if it was short for something, but assumed it originally came from something very British, or French. He hoped it wasn't french, just had a natural distaste for them. He became so caught up in his thinking that he forgot to subject himself in this part of the discussion. There was an awkward, several second pause between words.

"Oh, Yes. I'm Richard, but I go by Ric. No k."

LET THERE BE CONVERSATION! Okay, so it wasn't that dramatic, not even in his own twisted mind. But hey, why not, Right? Taking another step forward he was just within his own reach of her, his lanky arms would be able to pat her on the shoulder, as an example.

And pause. It was there, he almost wanted to through out an awkward turtle, but that was simple something the blind could not appreciate.

"Is it awkward not knowing who your talking to, minus what they sound like?" He squinted softly, his head slightly caulked to the side as he spoke with a genuine tone.

He'd never had to ask this question before, but he wanted to know. He was taught that it was polite to look at whom you were addressing. But, if you can't see them that posed a problem. He knew it wasn't any less polite, the shoe was actually on the other foot in this scenario, but it puzzled him none the less. Did she prefer to have a basic understanding of who she was speaking with? Height, weight, build, that sort of thing. He didn't know, and so he asked, since it was on his mind.

[Leta]

Richard. Ric, as he liked to be called. She made it a point to remember that. She smiled and nodded in a "Nice to meet you" sort of way. He stepped forward again, and Leta once again leaned back again the wall. There was a short pause. She was interested in him. She wanted to know what went on inside his head whenever they paused to think. And then it came out.

"Is it awkward not knowing who your talking to, minus what they sound like?" He sounded sincere and respectful, so she would reply equally. She turned her face toward the sky, exposing her neck to him, to show that she was searching for the right words. She had a pensive look about her face. Then she "looked" back at him, and replied.

"I was born this way. It is simply a way of life for me," she explained. "I don't understand the concept of sight. Colors and light are foreign to me." She took a moment to listen to his breathing, and her surroundings before continuing. "I need to 'see' through my other senses. I can hear better than most people. And I get around by counting steps, feeling walls, and listening to what's around me. I can only know what people look like through feeling them." She looked to her right, and reached over and touched the sophomore's head. There was some blood, but it didn't particularly concern her. "You hurt him pretty badly." She turned back towards Ric, waiting for a response.

[Ric]

"So my singing really is that bad." He proclaimed with an attempt at half a pout, coming off completely sarcastic as he looked at the light smears of blood coating her right hand. Two steps forward, that was all it had taken him to move forward and stop right in front of her. He wasn't facing her though, his body was turned to his left, his eyes observing the skull fracture for a moment. Long enough to determine that the shape of his skull wasn't compromised. So as long as their wasn't extensive swelling already in his brain before Ric had slammed it into the wall, he'd most likely be okay until treated. Concussed, maybe, but okay.

"I'll grab the nurse after lunch." Finally an explanation, a sort of understand of knowing what he did. He didn't care for the health of his victim, but it was quite understandable that he might be the only one to do so. Whether or not his friends did anything was still up in the air. He doubted so.

A light pivot and he was facing her, this time much closer. Perhaps in her bubble, as the saying goes. He wasn't sure. But there were two things pertaining to his interest at that moment. The first is that she had the blood of his actions on her hands, literally. The second was that she didn't know what he looked like. It wasn't being vain in believing his appearance that he wanted her to know, to him it was simply being polite, a way of introducing himself beyond a name.

"May I?" He asked softly, before reaching out and gently grasping her right wrist. He doubted he'd ever held something so lightly before, but if she pulled away he offered no resistance. If not, he brought the hand covered in smeared blood up to his face, placing it against his cheek. Thankfully, his face wasn't covered in sweat at this point.

[Leta]

Two more steps forward. She could feel his body heat now. He was facing the unconscious student, assessing the damage he'd done. He said he would get the nurse after lunch, but Leta wondered how bad the extent of the damage was. He turned toward her again, causing her to blush a bit. Any closer, and he would have been practically on top of her. She looked down to hide her blush from him, just before he quietly asked a simple two words.

"May I?" He reached out and lightly grasped her wrist, causing her to let out a small gasp, and she turned her face back to him. Leta never really had physical contact with people. She typically didn't like it unless it were with someone she could trust. But for some reason, she let him guide her hand to his face. She didn't mind. Her initial reaction might have been out of habit, but it was, if anything, sweet to her. He delicately placed her hand upon his cheek. Her hands were soft, and easy to pick up any details. She smiled a little at him, as a sort of thank you.

His cheek was warm and had the slightest bit of stubble. She lightly moved her hand back to his left ear. There was a piece of it missing. She made the connection, well... assumed, that fighting must just be a part of his life. If this wasn't from a fight, she wanted to know more. She started to bring her other hand up, brushing his right shoulder, and placing it on his neck. 'This must be strange to him,' she thought to herself. 'I hope he doesn't mind.' She moved her left hand up to his cheek, then toward his ear (there was a piercing in this one), just as the other hand. But this time she also moved it up, running her fingers through his short hair. There was another scar. She wanted to know his stories; how he got these. She ran both her hands back down to his neck, one of them tracing his jaw-line on the way. She was at a loss for words. She didn't know what to do with her hands, she didn't know what to say... she was speechless.

[Ric]

The only downside Ric could find to being as white as her hair would be the immediate recognition of when your blushing. Even with her head tilted forward and her hair falling in front of her face, he could still make out the slight crimson color flowing in her cheeks. The sudden gasp afterward didn't help her case, and now he could simply refer to her as cute. Normally his nicknames followed with 'Lackey', but Cute Lackey didn't hold a pleasant ring to him. Had to drop the second half, it seemed to be a necessity.

'This... Isn't how I pictured being touched by a girl.' He lightly smirked at his own joke as she was touching his ear piercing. It wasn't a common place to get it done, so he might have to explain that later on. At least there was a bit of a story behind it, if only a small one.

He wasn't sure how long this was going on for, he assumed it was a shorter time then what it felt, but it did seem as though she was getting a good look at him. She knew of his scars, how he kept his hair, the rarity of his shaving. His height, the definition of his jaw line, the thickness of his neck. As she came to a pause, her hands just resting above his collar he felt the growing silence within the air. Oh, how badly he wanted to throw out an 'awkward llama', or possibly an 'awkward palm tree'. A shame, really, truly, honestly. Oh well. Just had to break the silence in another fashion.

"So. . . now you know what I look like. Ugly mug, hmm?"

[Leta]

Leta smiled and let out a small laugh. "Not at all. Interesting, to say the least," she remembered the piercing and the scars. "But not ugly." 'He actually seems handsome.' she thought to herself. She couldn't stop this increasing curiosity about him. Why was he being so nice, for one question. Why was she? What were the scars from? Hmm.. time will tell. She remembered her hands were on his neck. "Sorry." she said before taking them off his neck, and unintentionally brushing his chest as she brought them down to her side. He was shirtless. This experience got her to thinking. She doesn't really know what she looks like. She knew from what people told her that she had abnormally white hair and eyes. Like she knew what that meant...

"I bet you didn't expect this today." She giggled. It was probably awkward for him. In fact, she was sure he had never expected to have a blind girl touch his face ever. She was surprised he hadn't left yet. Still "looking" at him, she brought her hands together, keeping them busy. She felt the sticky, almost-dry blood on her fingers and remembered. "Uhm. I think there is blood on your face." She blushed a little again, this time she didn't bother hiding it. "I'm sorry." she said with a laugh under her breath.

[Ric]

"After that pawing, I'd say it's all over my face." He joked, his smug smirk spreading across his face. Not that she could see it, but habits were habits nonetheless. She'd be able to tell from his tone that he was just jesting with her. The fact that he put her hand there must have been over looked. He had been trying to accomplish two things, the first was letting her 'see' what he looked like, the second was to trying and get most of the blood off her hand. He assumed he'd done fairly well with both. He wasn't sure though, and without a wet nap and turning her hand over, he probably wouldn't get a chance to clean it himself.

To each their own.

"You don't have to apologize. I already knew it was on your hand." He explained, her keen hearing told her certain things, the same could be said about his sight. Two different sense's, both pushed to their limits.

"It wasn't your fault you put it there. It all comes back on me." Perhaps he had a better understanding of right and wrong then even he'd given himself credit for. But having an understanding and obeying said knowledge were two different things. Otherwise, he probably wouldn't have smashed said gleeks head against the wall, thus causing him to bleed, thus having Leta touch it. It was all one big string that started with him.

"I'd ask if it looks good on me, but I'd presume you'd be lying to me if you said it did." Another joke, always the jester, apparently.

[Leta]

Ric knew it was on her hand. That's a curious thing. Most avoid blood like death itself. What made him different? Leta was now listening to the tone of his voice. He spoke with ease and charisma. She didn't know what he was like around other people, but she knew that she never let herself just focus on one person. She never stopped observing her surroundings. Yet here she was, listening to his breathing, and feeling his face. It was silly to think that a few jokes and a gentle touch could make her blush or go weak in the knees. Yet here she was, blushing at his touch. It made her uncomfortable in the slightest. But for some reason, she couldn't stop being curious. She couldn't bring herself to stop listening to him.

She couldn't help but think he found her strange. A barefoot blind girl walks up unannounced so she can listen to his singing. Wonderful. Good first impressions were never her strong suit, but she certainly made impressions.

She smiled again at one of his jokes. "Oh. It looks great on you. Very flattering." She smirked at him. And then the question finally came out. "Where did they come from? Your..." She gestured to her own forehead and face, and then to his forehead. She was trying to get across that she meant his scars, without actually saying the word. She hoped not to cause offense, or bring up any bad memories. Although, she figured she was pretty much safe from that. She figured he seemed not only physically strong (she gathered that information from accidentally brushing his chest earlier), but mentally as well.

[Ric]

"What? You mean my tan? That's an amazing sense of touch." Ric joked softly, reaching out and gently touching the side of her elbow to indicate his playful demeanor... Wait, he had a playful demeanor? Give the boy an 'A' for maturing.

"I got it from Brazil, same with the scars." And so the reason answer to her actual question came forth. To a degree. He didn't mind talking about himself, and while in this particular story he was the one originally at fault - as he so commonly was - he wanted to try to make himself out to be a bit in the right. The odds certainly helped favor that idea.

"They're actually connected by fate, it would seem, given a year apart from each other." He tried to make it seem dramatic, a good sense of story was build upon drama.
"In fact, both scars were given by the same guy." And the evil-doer enters the story, oh, how the plot thickens.
"I'd know him since I was a wee lad, only a whooping 12 years old and a staggering 5'7! OH! How short I was." Humor made every story better. Don't deny it.
"We practice Muay Thai together, and when I was thirteen at a tournament we faced off in the semi-finals. I would've progressed to the finals with a shocking first round KO, but there was a problem in that plan." Another pause, just to catch his breath.
"I received a hard elbow striking down from above as I went in to grab for a clinch. It connected with the top of my head," He took her hand and tilted his head forward, bringing her fingers to the top of the scar.
"And forced it's way around the curvature of my skull, splitting it wide open." He slowly brought her fingers down past the last of the scar, finally letting go.
"I ignored the blood, resumed with the clinch, connected with a knee to his jaw and knocked him unconscious with one blow." Excitement had been growing in his voice, but suddenly fell flat in the next sentence.
"Unfortunately, the finals started to soon, the wound couldn't heal, and they wouldn't let me compete with stitches in my forehead."

And so ended the first half of his tale. It ended on a mixed note, a bit happy, a bit sad. The next part of his story could be more heroic, he just had to figure out how to word it properly. While he tried to figure that out he watched Leta, wondering about her reaction. He now became more cautious of the fact that he touched her, twice, without permission. That didn't seem normal, and he was even more conscious of her reaction now.