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 Hot: -1 | Cold: 1 | Volatile: -1 | Dark: 2 Experience: 3/5 | Conditions: Careless | Harm: 0/4 | Location: Homeroom Something went horribly wrong. Horribly right? A moment ago Hannah felt like she'd at least been somewhat in charge of the situation. Sure, Taylor had misunderstood what she'd tried to get across but she could have just let her know how she'd clearly been stupid about this later. Instead everything spiraled out of control, pushed over the edge, free falling. She tries to nervously laugh off Taylor's display as she sashays over to her, but it quickly catches in her throat when it dawns on her that Taylor isn't kidding. She's got her cornered, at the mercy of the heat trapped between their bodies. The only times she can remember feeling this alive is when... when... A small startled gasp pulls her back to reality when she feels Taylor's lips on her neck, reminding her that this is a much different situation. Yet one that is somehow making her heart beat just as fast. Taylor whispers and Hannah more feels her warm breath than she actually hears the words. Her head is swimming and her grasping hands find Taylor's skirt, clutching the fabric as if she's worried about drifting away. "I..." is as far as she manages before her lips touch the other girl's and everything just kind of turns into a blur for a moment. The world narrows and it's just the two of them in their own little world, caught up in each other. At least until Noir, without even bothering to look up from his book, loudly clears his throat and Hannah's eyes snap open at reality crashing back into focus around her along with everyone else watching their little display. It doesn't even really matter whether they are or not, in Hannah's head every single set of eyes is focused on her, piercing through her. Her heartbeat still hammering in her ears her clutching hands suddenly push Taylor away and off her lap, unceremoniously sending her butt on a collision course with the floor in front of her as she looks down at Taylor with wide-open eyes. Take your experience, devil-woman!
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May 15, 2016 00:52
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 Hot -1 | Cold -1 | Volatile 1 | Dark 2 EXP: 3/5  V. High School, Mr. Noir's ClassroomIs... Is this real? Is this happening? Taylor and Hannah just...? Echoes from just a few minutes ago rattle my brain. The talking, the movement, everything. It's real and it's happening, right now. They've got it all figured out. I don't at all. I don't at all. Hold Steady (3): 2d6-1 6 (A series of images appear in quick, sharp succession as the camera zooms closer onto Warren's struggling face. It's the life he planned out for himself, with Taylor: Dating at Candy Clown, walking through a park, dinner at the World, moving into an apartment, the proposal, the wedding, the reception, the consummation, the consummation, the consummation...) Ah, gently caress. No. This isn't happening. I mean, it is, but is loving shouldn't, God drat it. It's all happening so fast, my head is spinning. (Figuratively; he fixed the literal part forever ago.) I'm getting from up my chair, and I'm I think walking toward... gently caress damning God it. gently caress, Warren, get it together. "I can't..." Think. Think. They're all looking at you now "I can't believe... you would do that... just... because of me?" There. It's all out in the open now, Warren. You love Taylor, you lovey-dovey horndog. Get it over with. Just please for the love of God don't cry in front of the class. "Can I... talk to you?" Warren tells Taylor. "Somewhere more... quiet?" Spending a string to offer experience. Why don't we head outside and have a chat? Double May Care fucked around with this message at 05:34 on May 20, 2016 |
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May 15, 2016 02:18
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 Hot: -1 | Cold: 1 | Volatile: 1 | Forgiveness/Trespass: 0 Experience: 1/5 | Conditions: none | Harm: 0/4 | Location: V. Highschool, Mr. Noir's Class Back, and to the left. Back, and to the left. Back, and to the left. The little note slaps off Sam's temple and goes astray, clattering onto the desk. Sam slowly unfolds it, reads it, and stares askance at Warren. Is this a challenge? Or is he hitting on him? This part neither Jess nor Uriel covered. Depending on how he reads it, either W. wants to meet him after school to prove to him that he's the best man for him, or for Taylor. Maybe? Nah, if it was meant for her, he'd of tossed it to her. So which sort of hitting is it going to be, exactly? Warren isn't unattractive, though such thoughts are an abomination in the face of God according to Ms. Avila (even if we should love the sinner and not punish him for having the desires, only when he acts on them, and Father always seems curiously silent on the subject of girl's love), but if he's planning on beating Sam's face in after school rather than asking him to make out, those are much different preparations. What's your plan, Sam? Huh? What's your plan? All of which is rendered temporarily moot when Taylor sidles up and gives Hannah a rather forward kiss, and the rest of the class a nice godly eyeful (such a terrible pun). Beautiful. Sublime. (Did Emily and I look like that?) Ended with a throat clearing and a shove. Alright. If she can be forward, so can he. Note in hand, he'll stalk up to Warren and press the note onto his chest. "Fine. You. Me. After orientation."
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May 15, 2016 03:31
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Pause. Rewind. Lisa sits in the middle as the scanlines distort and the class moves all around her, sitting and shifting uncomfortably in her desk, though a little out of sequence with everything else. A quiet intensity around her. Play. There is no one else in the room. It is just as poorly lit as before, though the colors seem more saturated than before. There is just Lisa in her seat, and as we pan outwards, behind the shoulder of Mr. Noir, who sets his book down on the table and leans over, gazing up with the light hitting his brow in a way that shadows his eyes. "Do you think it will go any differently this time?" He asks, his voice like gravel that just had a helluva night. Cue Chime. The lights are brighter this time through. Everything is just a little different, lit a bit differently, but the passage of events is like a highlights reel around Lisa as she is witness to it. Things moving just a little too fast. Time just a little too fluid as it went around, but it was also different in a way that was difficult to put one's finger on, but the sequence of events plays out basically the same, now better lit within the room. Ragland's departure. Taylor, Hannah, and Heather breaking off. They come back later again. Mr. Noir puts something in the VCR and it plays, but it isn't the Simpson's episode. We don't get to see what it is, and the lights are not dimmed for it. Warren's arrival. His making eyes in Taylor's direction. Drama escalating as Taylor slipped in to talk with Sam, escalating until the kiss. Warren's approach, the challenge. Then, breaking the spell, those strangely cold eyes of Tom, and he's been staring for quite a while. TheCog posted:I desperately make eye contact with Lisa hoping she notices my plight and helps me out. I *really* don't want to make any more small talk with this guy. For gently caress's sake, I don't want to test if I can be killed via *boredom*. Please. Please. Save me. Or I'm going to have to do something rude, and I really cant afford to make any more enemies today.  LISA: Whatever just happened, Sam is looking at you like he's expecting you to do something, and you have no reason to know what it is, especially after your... experience. Mr. Noir is staring at his book, which is tinged with an indigo hue. What do you do? TOM: Throughout the video you've suffered it, but now you need an outlet... and Lisa has just been staring off into nowhere like a dumbass, leaving you out to dry. Because of this, Matt is wise to your own inattentiveness, smiling a small worried small as he asks, "Still alive, Tom?" suicide4sexbots posted:My mouth winds up just over hers. Time seems to pause. The class seems to hold its collective breath, or maybe it's just me. SuddenConsequences posted:Taylor whispers and Hannah more feels her warm breath than she actually hears the words. Her head is swimming and her grasping hands find Taylor's skirt, clutching the fabric as if she's worried about drifting away. "I..." is as far as she manages before her lips touch the other girl's and everything just kind of turns into a blur for a moment. The world narrows and it's just the two of them in their own little world, caught up in each other. At least until Noir, without even bothering to look up from his book, loudly clears his throat and Hannah's eyes snap open at reality crashing back into focus around her along with everyone else watching their little display. It doesn't even really matter whether they are or not, in Hannah's head every single set of eyes is focused on her, piercing through her. Her heartbeat still hammering in her ears her clutching hands suddenly push Taylor away and off her lap, unceremoniously sending her butt on a collision course with the floor in front of her as she looks down at Taylor with wide-open eyes. The reaction is not a release, or even laughter or jeering. What was keeping everyone rapt in attention now becomes a vacuum, sucking all of the life, and apparent goodwill in the room with these venomous words, under someone's breath: "Attention whore." The sentiment shared with no seeming source but virulently spreading, as all eyes were on, judging in silent chorus. Whatever Hannah's meaning, her pushing and stance was one rejection, and Taylor, for all her poise and energy coming into this, feels the sudden sting of what it means to transgress so openly. TAYLOR: Who disgusts you more right now? Hannah, for pushing you down on the floor, clearly unwanted? Warren, who keeps needling and pushing and drove you to this in the first place? The class, which dares cast judgment on you?... Or is there someone else we're missing, Taylor? A creature without shame also has no grace. HANNAH: You didn't mean to of course. It was an accident, a reflex. Except now, this is how you're going to be remembered for the rest of the year, and the hush over the room is staggering. You might have had at least one other reject in Beazleboi that didn't cast eyes of judgment, but now even he has something to look down on. For a ghost, you're suddenly entirely too visible. How are you going to change that? Rather Watch Them posted:Ah, gently caress. No. This isn't happening. I mean, it is, but is loving shouldn't, God drat it. It's all happening so fast, my head is spinning. (Figuratively; he fixed the literal part forever ago.) Toph Bei Fong posted:Alright. If she can be forward, so can he. Note in hand, he'll stalk up to Warren and press the note onto his chest. "Fine. You. Me. After orientation." "Miss Nelson," he finally offers. "Um... So like, can we just leave? Since there isn't any class?" Especially prompted by what Warren said, and people's attention now has reason to become divided. Mr. Noir pinched his brow, putting his book face down and inhaling sharply, before raising up his head and looking to the two standing boys and the mess that just happened at the back of the class. "How about," he starts, speaking softly but somehow filling the room with his voice, now roused, "we all return to our seats. It's time for roll call."  It was not negotiable. Everyone was to be separated out. No more note passing, no more shoving, no more kissing. You now had his attention. Everyone returns to their seat. SAM: When you return to your seat, you see that Dewey has finished his sketch, though he sideways glares at you when he see's you looking, perhaps hiding his embarassment. The captured maiden is holding a sword, and the dragon is falling upon it, expanding the symbolism in the expressions caught afterwards. "What? What are you looking at?" He says defensively. He tries to turn away. Do you leave it be? WARREN: You slink over to your end, crossing over the ligth from the projector still putting on some kind of video that's about half muted at this point. You notice that Henry and Angela, of all people, were talking in your absence, and Angela smiles while Henry frowns deeply, staring at you and then pointedly not looking at you once you take a seat. What just happened? VALENTINE: The drama is so engrossing for those involved that you focusing extremely hard and staring in Warren's direction passes under the radar. You don't call upon visions as such, but rather this magnetism between you and him, almost animal as much as plant. It's not however until he crosses the beam of light on the projector that you see it. His shadow twisted into another, taller figure, and definitively female. There is something hidden, and you can see it clearly. You only need to apply the right kind of light to get that plant to grow. How will you do it? Opening a drawer in his desk and pulling out a rather thick looking ledger-like notebook of some sort, likely for attendance but a bit bulkier than is needed for the tasks, he put back on his reading glasses and leafed through. He started reading names. First was Tom Brown, last was Samael Surname. Everyone is accounted for, everyone's name now known, for both the audience, and each other. (Did you know that Beezlebub Morningstar's real name is Ethan Ebenhart? he should have just kept that! He refused to acknowledge it of course, but Mr. Noir didn't skip a beat in crossing him off as absent.) HEATHER: It's bad enough that all that drama happened without you even getting noticed by anyone except the bowling jerk. But Mr. Noir didn't even read your name on attendance. After Samael responded, just shut the book and put it away. Do you do anything to call attention to it, call attention to yourself? Or do you let that slide too? What did you central place amidst it all let you see while no one was looking your direction? Then, Mr. Noir simply returns to reading his book, and for about fifteen agonizing minutes, everyone seems to be expected to simply sit at their desks. If anyone speaks, Mr. Noir clears his throat again and looks at them. And that is that. Unless you want to make a move. The bell is sweet release, but no one seems to be able to move of their own accord until he wills it, raising up his head. "Dismissed. Let's try again tomorrow, shall we?" Closing the book and getting up to leave himself. ALL: You have about ten minutes of free time before your next class. Decide what that next class is for yourself, it should be a core class, and can be different for each person. You can also play truant but that's probably not a Good Idea, but since when has that stopped anyone.
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May 15, 2016 11:37
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 Stats: Hot -1,Cold 1, Volatile 1, Dark 0 Harm 1/4 EXP 2/5 Conditions: Everything went by, in an instant. Infinitely fast, and infinitely wrong. Warren, Heather, Taylor, And I rejected it, and the world snapped into focus. I don't know what I did. I don't know what happened- but something Changed, and nothing did, and I sit here in Noir's room once more, hands gripping the desk thusly that my palms are filled with splinters, staring into his eyes as he speaks to me- Just me, alone in the world. "Do you think it will go any differently this time? The True Man speaks. We are not kin. I know him- on some level, I know him, and, and I know many others- but we are not kin. "No." Speaks the False Thing. In this time without time, I speak the truth. And once again, that ever familiar feeling washes over me, the world fraying at it's core- and I sit back in my homeroom. Tom looks at me, expectantly. Chatter and rattle and words flow through the room. I look about the room- and I see Warren once more. It happens again. I shouldn't worry about this. I shouldn't care, I shouldn't bother. I have more important things to do ,I have tasks and jobs and my own problems to worry about. I care, anyways. Did he even want me in the first place? Did he want to be... with me? I thought ,maybe, just maybe this would all work out, that he cared about me and I could engage in a mode of operation different from my normal and understand a world beyond compulsion and rationality and actions beyond my control and grasp something beyond falsity- <Nea> Hold Steady against everything. <Nea> !roll 2d6+1 <Krysmbot> Nea, 2+1 = 3 I cannot. I suppose It is obvious that I am a False Thing. And for all that she is, Taylor is more real than anyone I've met. I sit in my desk, skin pale, and listen to the sound of the bell wash over me. I am sorry, Tom. I could not save you from the danger you called out to me- I'm sorry, Warren, that I am not what you needed of me. I'm sorry, Taylor, that I am brimming with impotent fury. It is not your problem. It it mine. Is it, is it? Too much truth. Truth in Tom's face, in Taylor, in Noir- Whatever truth I just experienced with him. That truth of Somewhere Else. I saw it, I know it. It calls out to me, somewhere in Twilight. Taylor kissed a girl. I suppose that should help me feel better about the Warren Thing. It doesn't. I have been to a false place and a real place. I have seen falsity and truth, and they are much the same. Of all the things that are wrong today- Of all the failures today, it feels like I am the greatest. I shake, I shiver- I don't know what to do, for Tom, For Warren, Taylor, Heather, and and... Nea fucked around with this message at 19:56 on May 15, 2016 |
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May 15, 2016 19:48
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 Hot -1, Cold 2, XP: 2/5 Harm 0/4 Conditions: Reckless I'm hungry. drat it. drat it all to hell. Especially Matt. I knew, I knew this would be hard, but this is... torture. I try to focus. Really I do. But its like being in a candy shop when you're starving. I don't let myself drool though. I don't even let myself imagine how it would feel, to just reach out and grab him, and bite. How tender, how delicious, how it would melt like butter, warm and succulent. I can't let myself do that. Instead I lock my eyes forward and try to pretend to pay attention. I can hear the drama unfolding, and I just don't *care*. gently caress you Lisa. You could have broken me out of this. I could use a distraction. Instead I'm trapped. Caught between social politeness and my impulses. THUD.... My heart beats in my ears. I remind myself. I'm *alive*. I *don't* eat people. THUD... He's talking. Talking. "...and then at the creek..." THUD... Taylor is leaning in to kiss Hannah, and I don't care, cause right now, I'm far, far away from there. THUD... I'm sitting in a forest. THUD... There's blood on my hands, and its not mine. THUD... He asks me a direct question. He breaks the spell. "Still alive, Tom?" How appropriate. Something inside me coils, angry, snarling. I want to lash out at him. I sooth it. It's not his fault. I'm going to have a lot of powerful enemies soon. Best not tread on the little people. However obnoxious they may be. A smile of bitter irony plays on my face instead. I hope he takes it as friendly, not hostile. "I'm fine Matt..." and then an idea "...I just had a concussion this summer, so I'm a little out of it." I say it in a low tone, on the sly, like its a secret. I'm sure he won't hesitate to spread it like some kind of fall cold. Its a plausible excuse for avoiding sports. "Have a hard time staying focused all they time, y'know" I continue. "So if I look like I'm not paying attention..." I shrug, like it should be self explanatory. Who can blame the kid who hit his head so hard it rattled his brains around? "What do you have next?" 2d6-1=11! Manipulating him to spread the rumor that the reason Tom "can't" try out for football is medical, rather than not giving a gently caress As we speak however, I'm not really paying attention to him. Something is off with Lisa. Something has her rattled. I know the look on her face, its the look on a QB who's gonna blitz because he's scared, and running comes naturally. Its... not pitiable, not exactly, but I know that look. Its stupid. She left me out to dry with this chucklefuck. I should be angry. But instead I feel sorry for her. Which is stupid, as I said. I need to be looking out for number one here. I should be making buddy buddy with motormouth. I open my mouth to speak, but I realize as I do that, that I don't have anything to offer. What can a shambling corpse offer a real living person, anyway? What am I going to say that's going to return her to reality? There's... nothing. I have nothing to live for. Nothing to offer. Nothing... but myself. And what a pitiable offer that is. "Hey." I say it gently, like someone approaching an animal, trying very hard not to startle her. I discreetly tap her foot under the table to get her attention. But gently caress it, if this doesn't work, I'm not wasting any more time on her. My compassion only stretches so far. Plus, I have math next. I need to save my energy to survive that particular circle of hell. Hell, I'd be tempted to cut, if I didn't need to avoid making waves.
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May 16, 2016 11:22
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Experience: 3/5 | Conditions: Careless | Harm: 0/4 | Location: Homeroom Hannah spends the rest of the class very intently staring down at her blank notepad and the ragged edge of where she tore out the note that started this whole mess. It's all Taylor's fault, really. Hannah's the victim here. Or at least that's the role that comes to her naturally, which automatically makes Taylor the aggressor, the perpetrator. Surely everyone else recognizes that as well, right? They couldn't possibly have caught on to the fact that she liked it. That'd be ridiculous. Even though her heart beats a little faster just thinking about it, that's probably just the horrible embarrassment. But how could she possibly make that clear to everybody? Wait for Taylor outside class and slap her? No no no no no, that'd just draw even more attention. And as much as she likes to think herself the victim, the only thing worse than that is to be seen as one. Even now she can only assume people are giving her weird looks, although she refuses to look up and confirm that. When the bell brings sweet release she frantically scoops up her things and bolts from the room, brushing off Bennet. She already has to deal with the inevitability of being confronted about this eventually, but the least she can do is delay it until at least this evening. Or maybe, just maybe, she can dodge it long enough for the whole thing to blow over. Because that works, right? She finds a place underneath the stairs to catch her breath and hide. This is going to be who she is at school now. The girl who made out with Taylor during homeroom. On the first day at school. The only way to be someone else now would be to do something even bigger. Cement her image at school with a different story everyone's going to tell and at least pick something else everyone's going to judge her for. She slides down with her back against the wall, head leaning back until it hits the bricks as she sits on the floor. All the things that come to mind would probably just make her look worse. So what now? Just accept it? Try to own it? She's not sure she can really pull that off. Or if she even wants to. God damnit, Taylor. You and your stupid short skirts. She can still kinda feel her thighs wrapped around her... Everything had been going so well too. She'd made a friend, looked like she had her poo poo toge--oh gently caress. Heather. Somehow she'd completely forgotten about her. She had front row seats and Hannah can't even begin to imagine what she must be thinking of her now. Or what she'd think of her if she knew that Hannah had been in her bedroom while she was sleeping. She clenches her eyes shut and faintly bangs her head back against the wall. 'What the hell is wrong with me?' it shoots through her head. 'Is that what I was doing that night? What kind of creep am I?' The bell rings and shakes Hannah out of her thoughts when she has to make a decision whether or not to go to Science class. She's tempted to just bail, take the easy way out but then she suddenly has an idea. One of those crystallizing moments where everything suddenly makes sense. And for that plan to work she should get her rear end to the Science classroom...
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May 16, 2016 18:21
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  Experience: 3/5+1 | Conditions: Clueless; Attention Whore | Harm: 0/4 | Location: Homeroom Warren's approach was unexpected. I look up and smile, albeit a bit distracted as the taste of Hannah's lips linger on mine. I hadn't really given thought to the possibility he might actually approach me, especially given the very public showing I was currently providing. Impressive. He might hold some promise yet. He's Up & At 'Em alright! A giggle escapes my lips despite the situation: "Hehe! Oh hey! You wanna go..." [*THUD!*] It’s a hard landing, falling from the soft (yet strangely cold) lap of Hannah to the not-nearly-as-cushioned floor of the classroom. Suddenly, I’m painfully aware the lights had not been dimmed for whatever video Noir had put on. Hadn’t they been off before? I don’t recall seeing Noir turn them back on. And what the hell kinda grotesque poo poo are we watching here anyways? In the back of my mind somewhere, I vaguely remember seeing visions of a bleary Simpsons episode on the dull CRT unit before; which the raw, visceral images flashing on the screen now certainly are not. Regardless, these random peculiarities are rendered meaningless in light of my current situation; which is pretty hosed. As I look up at her pretty face all stricken with shock, it dawns on me that I may have been mistaken in my interpretation of her gestures. Welp. Guess I might have known it was too good to be true. Her eyes are all darting about, looking at the audience of whispering peers that I’ve accumulated. As if for the first time, I’m seeing how my actions were maybe a bit brash and even rude. She’s not happy with this, and it’s my fault. drat. Too bad, blondie. We coulda been a thing, yeah? I straighten out the stunned look of dejection that had settled onto my face into one of careless abandon. Don’t worry I’ll take this one on the chin, as usual. Ever the fire-starter, sweeping up friend and foe alike in a wake of smoldering ruin. Hey, let’s face it: I should just hand out business cards to everyone I meet: ”TAYLOR DERDEN: PROFESSIONAL LIFE WRECKER” I’m tempted to do a kip-up, but that would flash a bit more than even my careless display had shown already, so I settle for a gymnastics “landing” pose, jumping to my feet and jerking my hands in the air. I want to draw all the attention away from my horrified Home-buddy, so I clear my throat and address the class loudly: “Thank you, thank you! I’m here all week!” As the whispers reach their crescendo, I overhear an unmistakable phrase that I’ve heard often during my foray through the Oregon public school system. ”Oh there’s the troubled girl who has to be in everyone’s face all the time. Maybe she feels invisible? Maybe mommy and daddy didn't give her enough love?” Fixed to my face is a grin that belies any frustration, but yeah, I'm trying to swallow a bit of salt. I hadn’t wanted it to go down like this, but there it is. The mumming masses will draw their own conclusions. Fine. gently caress ‘em. Damning my own compulsive behavior, but allowing another layer of it to mask my self-disgust, I fold the fingers of both of my hands from celebratory waves to instigatory birds.  “Yeah? Ohhh I’m such a slut for your precious, precious attention, am I? Well how about you all mind your god drat business then?! You can’t, can you? Wanna know why? Because YOUR LIFE SUCKS. So you have to latch on to something interesting and drain all the fun from it like freaking vampires! I’ll bet some of you smarmy bitches actually are vampires or something. You wanna try me? Team Taylor is taking on all comers. So bring it to my face or you'll find me right the gently caress up in yours!” My fists curl into balls at my waist as I glare at the class, who mostly stare back blankly. So what. I was always going to be exiled to the outcasts, might as well let them know I'm not to be hosed with. When starting out in a strange new public school, and you find yourself on the fringes of social culture, there's really only a couple viable modes of operation: you either curl up into a pitiful fetus of submission, or you lash out and keep the wolves at bay. If they want to label me as a chick who craves being the center of all things, then fine. I'll own it. It's not like I can help it – it's just the way I am. It's their problem. They don't like it? Then they can just look the other way. I've dealt with plenty of that as well. Noir gives me a cold look, like he's finally been pushed to the limits of his near-boundless passivism, so I abandon my self-righteous diatribe and stomp back to my seat, where I match brooding stares with Tom until the bell graciously, finally tolls and Noir tells us to shove off. My syllabus stays where it had originally sat on the table, un-touched. As I leave, I glance over at the strange book on his desk, but it's gone. Of course it is. This. loving. Place.  [INT. V. Highschool, Hallways]I barrel out the door and immediately commence shoving my way through the hallways. Jock plebs; Art plebs; Band plebs; Plebs with Plants. Whatevs, they can all go circle jerk where ever they want, but I'm not sticking around to play the biscuit. I'm getting the hell out of here for a bit, and I'm finding the Derby. Looking through the sea of students, I still can't spot that familiar indigo hair I've been seeking since I rolled up to the lawn. Really?! Where is she? Didn't she say she'd be coming today? Was my bestie really going to leave me hanging on this hellish day? If I knew Faile, she'd be chilling with the so-called “Burnout” tribe. 'Tribe'? Why did I just think of that term? Weird… but oddly fitting. If anything, they'd be out near the bleachers I'd heard Margaret “GnarlyQuinn" Robbie mention before in passing at practices. If I could at least find her maybe she could point me in the right direction, or at least have some worthwhile skuttle. Or skunk maybe. A J would be lovely after the Homeroom fiasco. Bleachers mean football field. Field means outside. Rear of the school. Adjusting my path, I duck between a crowd of juniors and a row of lockers. I have no idea which is mine, and I don't have my bookbag to stow anyways, thanks to Ragland. Fucker has my skates too. poo poo. Total shitshow. I shoulder my way forward, not really paying any mind to whomever I'm bowling over. I can feel my teeth clenching in barely bridled anger, and I feel sorry for the sucker who tries to stop me. I pass some stairs and notice a familiar pair of sneakers poking out from behind them. Hannah… I should apologize. She seemed genuinely upset. I wont though. Maybe later. Can't face that right now. Before I do anything too cray, I need to see some familiar faces and simmer a bit. I think I have Math next. Mr. Camael, or “Robo-Teach” as Tiff calls him. Heh. As if. The only equation that makes sense right now is: Taylor + People = Carnage The double doors at the end of the hall call with the promise of release. I turn from the cute girl's hiding spot and continue my reckless path towards them. ...sorry, blondie. suicide4sexbots fucked around with this message at 04:22 on May 17, 2016 |
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May 17, 2016 03:57
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Hot -1 | Cold -1 | Volatile 1 | Dark 2 EXP: 3/5 V. High School, Mr. Noir's ClassroomIn the heat of the moment, I should have realized that those words were the first I'd ever spoken to Taylor. And subsequently, her words were the first she'd spoken to me. She did, didn't she? She was testing my resolve, my toughness. And I almost failed. Almost. Then Sam brought me back. 'Me. Him. After orientation.' Yeah, "It's on," I say, though my mind's still focused on her. I look him dead on, with what I can only assume is the worst redness I've experienced. Please back off. So, new plan. Beat up Sam in front of Taylor, then who gives a gently caress about Steve. There. Simple. Just... need a little motivation. Taylor does what she always does. gently caress the system, down with the sickness, all that poo poo. It might seem like white noise to anyone else, but I get it. Crash the system. She's awake to a whole realm of poo poo I haven't even touched. I mean she said it: my life sucks. And she's the cure. Mary Lou speaks up and clears the air after that. Just like that, I'm shattered. I shamble back to my chair, squinting as my head passes through the projected light. Something in the air, like too many electrons. Is it coming from Henry? She looks negative. I sit down between her and Angela, who shuts up once I'm here. "I'm sorry," I say as Mr. Noir calls me. Henry's not making eye contact with me. I mean, she's... cute. And the glasses do a lot for her, too. I whisper to Henrietta, "I'm sorry." When the bell rings, I see Taylor dash for the door. I need to go after her. She... she said 'You wanna go?' To me, I mean. That's as good an invitation as any. I stand up to leave, passing Lisa and--holy poo poo Lisa! I stop. And I... I turn my head to her. I'm not sure I can look her in the eyes right now, because I'm sure she can't do the same. I say to her, "Catch you later?" God drat it Warren, get the gently caress out of here.  V. High School, HallwaysMy next class is Science, but who knows if I'm going to get there on time. I just need to find her. There, the plaid stockings. She's sawing a scar through the student body trying to get... somewhere. Maybe this is another test? I slide my way between the openings she's made until finally I could just about touch her. I... elbow my way past a Choir kid until I'm right next to her. "Hey, Taylor, still wanna talk?" I say louder than I think I have to. "So... where are you going?" Yeah, Taylor gets EXP for that. We're going to make a talk-doc later, which will probably get posted here. Double May Care fucked around with this message at 05:34 on May 20, 2016 |
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May 17, 2016 05:49
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 Harm: 1/4 | EXP: 1+1/5 | Conditions: Infected, Space Cadet, Weary, In His Headlights Location: V. High School, The Hallways It's... it's me. What else could it be? A tall, feminine shadow in Warren's wake. A tall shadow that I felt in the flowers. With the flowers. Weak, still. Not talking. Not more than a silhouette, yet. But I -- she -- escaped. Escaped me. Escaped the tyranny of wakefulness. Escaped my body. I -- breathe. But does she remember me, or being me? Is she afraid, or curious, or hungry? And how is she surviving where I have always failed? Was it Taylor -- Taylor, I saw he was watching her, I saw the contortion. Even I know how love looks. Was it love, his for her? To talk to her to drain her to take her in? She'll tell me. I have to talk to her -- to Valentine -- will that even be her name any more? I -- I think she must be -- she must be -- a little buzzing voice posted:I, me, my, ...yes. Yes, part of me and born from me is mine. For the most part, I gave up my hunger to the flowers. I eat for the taste and to live, not because I enjoy it. It's the same with love -- I don't feel it the way most people do, or at least I can't remember it. But even I can recognize love and hunger, and Warren is twisted with them. Love and hunger -- it must be love and hunger. And Taylor -- oh, she kissed a girl, I think? Hannah? Is she disinterested? I know love grows in adversity. Even I know. And I won't let her starve. ...now that I think of her, Taylor is shouting. Loudly. And Shoshana Goldfarb looks mortified. I should... figure out what happened? It could be relevant. Taylor is important to this -- to him and thus to her and thus to me (and we are all together...) I make a motion to talk to Shoshana, but she only cringes and folds in on herself. It looks like Mr. Noir puts an end to things quickly, so she may be leery about continuing to make a fuss about whatever is happening. Oh, and he's calling roll. "Valentine? Valentine Kovacs." "Here," I say. "I'm here." And there. V. High School Hallways "The Veins" I am not fast, but intent counts for more than you might think when you want to move quickly. I brush up, accidentally, against an irate-looking... choir member, I think, but there is not all that much time to apologize; I am operating on a doubly limited time frame, in dealing with Taylor and making it to Math at a reasonable pace. There -- with Warren, no less. I resist the temptation to call to her and instead flag down Taylor. She is worth knowing, I think, even apart from her involvement with Warren, whatever that may be -- she is kind and she is hungry and both are worthy. Dimly I remember to try to be polite. "Taylor, are you alright? Were you injured at all when you fell? And -- ah, I'm sorry, I don't think I completely realized or understood what was happening..."
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May 17, 2016 07:37
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 XP: 2/5 | Harm: 0/4 | Conditions: Can't Roll, In the Maze Location: Homeroom I freeze, and while I'm frozen, it all just... spools out in front of me. Taylor and Hannah, one straightforward and unashamed, one ambivalent, but both.. participating. I feel a sudden, hideous flush of envy (this will never happen to you, not with Hannah, not with anybody) but I don't move until it's over, until I'm shepherded back to my seat by Mr. Noir's sudden burst of attention. I can't think of much besides the kiss, but I couldn't help but notice the expression of the boy that I think Hannah was gesturing me over to help distract. What's he calling himself now, Beelzebub? He looked... well, he didn't look smug, or amazed, or appalled, or even attracted. He looked horrified. Not repulsed, but some kind of other bone-deep horror, like the faces of characters at the ends of horror movies, finally having the entire terrible truth of the universe spelled out for them. He looked doomed. Why? I... I feel strange about it, really strange, but it's just a kiss. What could it mean? In my seat, I stay silent all through roll, even when the end of the list comes around and I'm not there. This isn't the first time this has happened; sometimes attendance lists are just truncated, some kind of "computer error," if anyone really buys that. Right now, though, I'm just as glad to be anonymous. If Mr. Noir doesn't notice me, then maybe I'll be able to... not be here, when I need to be somewhere else, or I need to be nowhere. But surely he notices, doesn't he? He just doesn't care. That's okay. Maybe I can still work with that. I stay quiet as I grab my bags, shuffle out of the room, and head to my locker. I throw the gym bag in there for now, willing to risk it on a school combination lock to avoid having its presence noticed. (If anyone asks, they're my brother's clothes. My brother wouldn't fit in anything that'd fit Camron, but who's going to remember that?) I have Science next, and I hope that'll be nice and dry, nondescript. It'll be nice to be away from the crowded homeroom, the kiss, the screen showing a city submerged in a flood of glowing yellow-green beer -- No, that wasn't on TV. What was on TV? Never mind. Science now.
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May 17, 2016 07:53
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[INT. V. High School, Homeroom] ( Matt actually looks genuinely concerned there for a moment, and has the grace to seem abashed a bit for talking about himself so much. He pauses for a moment, thinking before he speaks, before he offers, "Hey, sorry. You got enough on your plate. You probably just want everyone off your back for a bit." He leaned back, pulling his bag up upon his shoulder. He'll say something, with the motive of looking to be a friend. "If you want an ear to listen, I'll give it, man. No Watch, promise. See you two at orientation?" He gave the two some room. TOM: Acceptance is conditional. He'll do what you ask, but you have given a little something in return, an attachment, a show of interest, a little intrigue about yourself. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but it does mean he's not gone forever, if that's what you wanted. You need to eat tonight. He mentioned orientation. Are you going to try to skip that? It's very important, you know. Lisa is unresponsive at the first prodding. She is perhaps less so after, as something almost perceptibly flickers to life inside.
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May 17, 2016 09:44
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Hot: -1 | Cold: 1 | Volatile: 1 | Forgiveness/Trespass: 0 Experience: 1/5 | Conditions: none | Harm: 0/4 | Location: V. Highschool Warren's blushing. That's... that's pretty attractive, actually. Hrm. Will this be so bad? Sam wonders. Bad for... Well, who knows? Keep it quiet, try it out, see what happens. Hopefully folks will be so distracted by Taylor and his ostentatious displays of affection that this other little tête–à–tête will go less commented on. Returning to his seat, he catches Dewey's eye. The level of detail and the quality of shading is astounding, considering he's using only a cheap yellow no. 2 pencil. "That's very well drawn," Sam replies. "I'm not trying to make fun, I honestly think you're very talented. Is that from something, a book or a movie?" "No," Dewey replies a little too quickly. "Well, yes, but I wrote it. It's not published. And it won't be. No one's going to read it. It isn't good enough yet. Forget I said anything." Sam's head turns sideways. "Okay," he says softly. "It's called Eschaton: The Chronicles of Dragonthorn, Knight of Florence. It's a trilogy. Part one is called The Angel and the Dragon, but that title sucks, so I need something better." "It's not that ba--" "It's about Dragonthorn, the holder of the sacred spear of Caledonia, and her quest to unite the Seven who are the only ones that can revolutionize the world and rebirth it from the chrysalis form it's been trapped in by the evil wizard Demogoros. The Angel is the fallen champion, banished by the Queen Demiurgia, sent to reclaim the Sacred Sword and unleash the dragon that will devour Demogorgos. But Dragonthorn needs to keep possession of the Sacred Sword, else she won't be able to kill the dragon and save the world from being destroyed." "Huh. So is the Angel...?" "Saurael is a morally gray anti-hero, like Dragonthorn. I've been writing the stories down ever since they started coming to me in dreams. I've written almost two thousand pages. But my parents--" Further discussion is cut short by the roll call, and Dewey's nerve seems completely broken by the intrusion. There is no talking after roll. He bolts the very second the bell rings, leaving nothing behind. Sam takes his time, carefully studying his schedule. This is fine. Things might have gotten off to a rocky start, but now they're turning around a little. Just have to make it to... Math. Sam hasn't seen Mr. Camael since... He hasn't seen him in a while. He closes his eyes, calms his breathing, and tells himself he's going to keep it together.
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May 18, 2016 03:23
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Experience: 4/5+1 | Conditions: Clueless; Attention Whore | Harm: 0/4 | Location: Hallways of V. Rather Watch Them posted:"Hey, Taylor, still wanna talk?" Poltergrift posted:"Taylor, are you alright? Were you injured at all when you fell? And -- ah, I'm sorry, I don't think I completely realized or understood what was happening..." I’m being followed. And here I thought I’d made enough of a scene to discourage all but the most foolhardy of my peers from ever approaching me. Turns out I was doubly wrong. Looking over my shoulder I see Warren shove aside a preppy-looking kid, who is sent sprawling next to the lockers, books and paper sent flying. drat. War-face can throw! Hot on his heels is Valentine, trying her best to dodge the student debris we’re creating. poo poo. She’s gotta be dealt with first. Red seems like a nice enough girl, but she’s been tainted… Her proximity to Shoshana means she’ll inevitably be needled into squealing about my activities if we become friends. Shosh just has an uncanny way with “persuasion”. Hell, if even I can’t win an argument with her, how can I trust anyone else to keep zipped about things that will most likely prove quite delicious morsels of gossip? I’d need concrete evidence she’s not gonna fold under pressure before I could hang with her, and honestly I just don’t know enough about her to even decide whether or not it would be worth my time to do so; and what I have learned just by proxy of small town ubiquity isn’t very reassuring. I mean, let’s tick off the things I can say about her:
Some of that I can deal with, but that number two item is almost a deal-breaker in itself. Hmm. On the other hand… If she’s an enemy, they say it’s good to keep those close? Perhaps it’s worth poking around a bit in that skull of hers, get a fly on the bads proverbial wall; or if not, then at least just to dig up a bit more about this mystery girl. Maybe if I test the water something might bubble to the surface? Holding up a finger to Warren, I turn to Red and flash her a smile through gritted teeth. Realizing I might look more like a viscious predator than a purring vixen in my current aggravated state, I do my best to ease the tension in my limbs and face. “Hey, thanks for worrying. I’m alright. Just a little flustered I guess.” A confession more obviously illustrated by the trail of moshed student body behind us. “It’s just… you try to enjoy a moment of levity and everyone craps all over it, yeah? See...” I take her hand and place it on the part of my shirt that’s over my bosom. “Feel that? My hearts racing. I just need to head outside and get some air for a tick.” I release her hand, letting her decide whether or not to keep it there, but my eyes never leave hers. Hmm. She might be passive, but there’s something burning in those peepers. Now let’s see how this plays. “You seem nice, but… sadly I have a problem trusting you. See, that girl you sit with, Shoshana? She likes to think she’s my godmother or something. Like it’s her duty to keep me out of trouble. Not that I have a problem with you, but if you wanna be friends I’m gonna need something in return. Some kind of proof that you aren’t her stool pigeon.” Tapping my jaw as if I’m pondering a possible solution, I play cute n’ coy. Then, flicking my index up to the sky, I purse my lips teasingly. “Oh! I know! My friend Dawn said she always carries around a diary in her book bag. If you could snag that, I’d say you were down as gently caress. Bring it to me, and maybe we can hang? I know this place where there’s some… uh … great fertilizer too. If you’re into that or whatever. Just don’t space on this, kay? Get caught and I know nothing. See ya later!” Sizing her up in a seductively appraising manner, I leave her with a wink and a twirl of my skirt, pulling Warren along with me towards the rear exit. RNG GODZ posted:Tit for tat? (Turn on Valentine): 2d6+1 6 Blood Flowers Cut Scenes posted:[CUT SCENE: Warren & Taylor are Breaking Bad!] suicide4sexbots fucked around with this message at 07:17 on May 18, 2016 |
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May 18, 2016 06:04
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Experience: 3/5 | Conditions: Careless | Harm: 0/4 | Location: Hallway/Science Class Taking a deep breath to pull herself together Hannah pushes herself up and jumps to her feet. Propping up her backpack on one knee she pulls out her Walkman and slips on the headphones. She flicks the cassette player on and looks out at the students in the hallway. With a plan in mind and music filling her ears she heads back out into the fray of Highschool. Of course no one has heard anything yet, but even if they did she wouldn't know, the music separating her from the rest of the world and letting her slip through the crowd. Her eyes dart around, taking in the passing faces as she is looking for one particular thing. Other's looking her way go mostly unnoticed as she searches, finally spotting what she needs to know. Up ahead June Carver and her gaggle of sycophants are standing in front of her open locker and Hannah side-eyes them as she walks past, doing her best not to draw any attention. For a moment sheer number of people surrounding June for even just something trivial as getting books from her locker are intimidating and if any of them had looked her way she may have changed her plans, but she's beneath their notice and she slips past them and finally reaches the safety of the Science classroom, settling into a seat in the back near the door. Pulling out her notebook she starts doodling things that could probably be a little more cheerful.
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May 18, 2016 20:45
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Stats: Hot -1,Cold 1, Volatile 1, Dark 0 Harm 1/4 EXP 2/5 Conditions: Tom hates me. He must, I haven't helped him, I'm trapped, frozen, caught between time and space and place and need and want and desire and compulsion and , and, and- And the infinite problems, my neuroses, my everything, it's all too much, it's too much, there's too much everything going on and my pulse is beating and there's no reason or logic, just hurt- Nothing, nothing, just a false woman and a false time. Nothing right, nothing fair. He's staring at me. His eyes are pitying. My heart is pounding. My skin is sweating. My fingers are twitching rhythmically. "Hey." He says, and that single world contains in it infinite meaning. He's looking down on me. He's judging me. He's hurting me. HE knows, he knows. He knows and I have no excuse. He knows that I am a wretch of a non-existant thing. He must. He must be. What do I say to a real person? What do I say to someone who understands the world? What do I say to someone who could probably crush me in half if he wanted? What do I say to the Football Star? What do I say to a friend? What do I say to excuse my actions, excuse me? What do I say to make the world, in some way, right? I say seven things. "I am not a real person, I'm sorry, but it's true I am the daughter of a paradox, or the scion of the void, a person created from nothing, a birth from a broken world, I do not know what I have been to a time that was not, and seen the time that was, out of a selfish desire I have been hurt and it is dumb and bad and I have far more important things to worry about than some, some dumb boy I've already tried to hurt people today just to let my own pain pass onto them, so that I did not have to face consequences I abandoned my family and my friends out of broken and terrible desires for truth I do not know why I say these things, I do not know why I am the way I am, I do not know why you are my friend." And then I run. Running is all I know. Books in hand, feet on the floor. Away, away. <Nea> Lisa: Run Away <Nea> !roll 2d6+1 <Krysmbot> Nea, 7+1 = 8 <Nea> Tom gets a string on Lisa
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May 19, 2016 00:32
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Hot -1, Cold 2, XP: 2/5 Harm 0/4 Conditions: Reckless Matt despite having a big mouth, is not a bad kid. His concern seems genuine, even if he seems to subconsciously be able to tap into just the right words to get my stomach growling again. I give him a real smile. The first I think has touched my lips in a long time. "Yeah man, I'll see you at orientation." I look at him again... why not? "And maybe we can hang out next week or something. I could use a friend". Acceptance is conditional, but its a condition I'm willing to accept. I can do this. I can be his friend and keep him far away enough I don't wind up hurting him... right? Lisa has... some kind of breakdown in response to me tapping her. Its entirely unexpected, and I'm blindsided. I can feel a flash of orange as she opens her mouth, and I can hear the gears grind to a halt as she spews... all kinds of nonsense. Which I'm sure she believes. I stand there, dumbfounded, trying to make sense of the word salad. My brain races, ahead of my decision making ability. Processing, not necessarily understanding the structure of the sentences, but grasping the underlying feeling of them. I get the gist of it. She's been hurt by a boy. We've all been there. Spurned by a crush. Is that what has her in a tizzy? I'd speak, but the deluge coming from her mouth doesn't stop, and she goes on. There is truth there. I can hear it. Truth. Loathing. Self-hatred. Hatred of the world. Deep and rolling and Indigo (huh?). She doesn't think she's a person. Whatever, we've all struggled with identity, right? She's hurt, and she's lashed out in response. But what I get most of all is this. She is alone. They are the words of someone who has taken all the burdens of the world upon their back. Who has chosen to carry on, despite a weight far beyond them. It resonates with me. The guilt. A deep and rolling sea of bile. I would speak, but before I have a chance, she's out the door. I can't tell if she's crying, but she's obviously upset. Now. I don't have the best relationship with my dad. Not the worst certainly, but we're not best buds. But there's a lesson he taught me at a young age. A lesson that's as much a part of me as anything else. His words echo in my head, a something I learned I was probably six "Boy, when you make a girl cry, you gotta make it right." I... I don't know if I made her cry, but I made her run away. That... that's not right. I somehow hurt her. Somehow it's my fault. The knot of guilt that lives inside me tightens. Bad. I did a bad thing. I hurt her. I am a monster. I am a bad thing. I made a girl cry. I will make it right. I take off after her. I dunno what to roll for this, so placeholder until tricky gets back to me! I wanted to post before I overworked it
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May 19, 2016 05:00
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Harm: 1/4 | EXP: 2/5 | Conditions: Infected, Space Cadet, Weary, In His Headlights Location: V. High School, The Hallways She's very much... what I thought of her. When she talks -- and pulls my hand in -- I can see the hunger in her. It's... almost inviting, in a way. And we are -- we are very close, I realize, suddenly. And I am touching in, erm, an intimate spot. By her invitation. But, still, I can feel the flowers shifting and resettling, straining with anticipation where the joints of my fingers meet... it's reasonable to pull away. It makes sense -- I don't want to hurt her. In just a moment. Two. ...but I want to stay close. Even for just this brief time, I want to listen to her heartbeat, even while my palms leave indelible, invisible stains on her shirt... <MetalForehead> Rolling +dark to tag Taylor with Seeds <MetalForehead> !r 2d6+2 <Krysmbot> MetalForehead, 2+2=4 <MetalForehead> GOD <MetalForehead> DAMMIT She walks off, and my palm is extended a moment too long -- but I don't break my gaze. Shoshana's diary. I don't want to do wrong by a near-stranger, and I'd prefer not to try anything that would break school rules. By certain metrics, this would be a foregone conclusion. But even I know love and hunger. And there are ways and means beyond theft. I grit my teeth as I proceed to class. a little buzzing voice posted:Mine. Oh, yes. All mine. Handing over a string. Poltergrift fucked around with this message at 00:54 on May 23, 2016 |
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May 19, 2016 05:19
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XP: 2/5 | Harm: 0/4 | Conditions: Can't Roll, In the Maze Location: Hallways / Science Class Passing periods are always strangely lonely. I know nobody's looking much of anywhere, but when people shove past me, it's as if I'm even less there than every other student around them. Sometimes it makes me want to push people back, push them away deliberately, to see if they even acknowledge that someone interacted with them, let alone that it was me. Today it doesn't help that I know Camron's clothes are sitting in my locker, and that five minutes in the bathroom would make me someone everyone would acknowledge. No, this isn't a good train of thought. Things are already feeling different, aren't they? And if homeroom didn't end the best, well, now it's time for another class. I glide through the hallway crowds, letting myself neither jostle nor be jostled, and slip into the back of the science classroom. Hannah's beaten me here, and she looks... unhappy? As far as I can tell, anyway. Did something happen? I mean, I know she didn't seem that happy back in homeroom... was it worse than I thought back there? Was that really all Taylor's idea? Did -- did Hannah get hurt? I thought... well, never mind what I thought. This is more complicated. I sit down in the back, next to Hannah, and idly get a notebook out to pretend I'm focusing on class about to start -- but I'm not, not really. "Hi," I say. "... are you okay?" CUT SCENE: Heather and Hannah in "Pithy Title TBA"
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May 21, 2016 10:04
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[EXT. V. High School, the Bleachers] (Taylor) TAYLOR: You're already a couple of minutes late, because dealing with both Valentine and Warren basically exhausted all the free time between classes before you ever even got out to the bleachers. When you do, you find them pretty desolate, but it's usually a little hard to tell... And there's the smell of smoke. It's not the distinct smell of the herb, however, but more the acrid chemical smell of cigarettes. There's a whole pile at the feet of the one person that's here: Aden Flint, who when you cross under the bleaches and look around is there, staring right at you with his sunglasses up on his head, looking actually somewhat put off, pissed off even. "You're late," he says, and surely it must be some kind of joke... But it's not said in that tone. You've got a choice: Be alone with this freakazoid and maybe make it to the obtiuaries, or get heading to Math and hope Camael hasn't already written your suspension.
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May 22, 2016 10:55
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[INT. V. High School, Lockers] (Hannah, Heather, Tom) As Hannah made a particular motion towards her chest, engaged in a conspiratorial conversation with Heather, Tom more or less stumbles upon the scene of the two outcasts in the shadow of the gaggle of the Hive holding court at the lockers, engaged in conspiratorial conversation all their own, though their eyes peak over at the former football star's breathless appearance. Through the thick of these people, plus the standard to and fro of those just trying to get to class or their lockers, Tom loses track of Lisa, and instead is caught within a single moment, a frame wherein there is a literal crossroads before the next class period. TOM: You have no idea where Lisa went, and you have no idea what her schedule is. You aren't sure if she went left or right, and the two freaks (that's your background as a jock talking, isn't it?) or the gaggle or preps blocking each passage respectively. Which one would you rather brave the judgment of? Are you going to ask them where she went? Both have their reasons to watch you, though you may assume it's one way or another. Which way is it, Tom? HANNAH: Speak of the Devil and he appears, Hannah. There's the very person you watched die, summoned forth as if from your words. Do you panic? Do you say anything that gives it away? Or do you try to get away before you get his attention? And why is it that June Carver is looking right at you? HEATHER: So the conversation just like, ended. You can probably guess as to why. You can also probably get away with one thing with everyone's attention so arrested. A single slip, a single glance where Hannah might not want you to, something taken, or something placed. Or maybe not even towards Hannah, or anything concrete, but abstract. But you know how to occupy these spaces within moments, so naturally used to not being the center of attention.
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May 22, 2016 10:55
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Experience: 3/5 | Conditions: Careless | Harm: 0/4 | Location: Hallway/Science Class This has to be coincidence, right? It has to be. Hannah barely has time to feel freaked out by Tom when she notices June staring at her and everything goes from bad to worse. Did she hear what they were talking about? Does she know Tom? He's a Football player, right? And those are June's enforcers. Hell they're probably who actually messed up Kendall at her mandate. And here's who has got to be their newest addition. She felt confident regarding Tom, he's fled from her twice now after all, but this... this confluence suddenly has a steel-band tighten around her guts. June is scary enough already without an immortal enforcer at her side but that's bound to be his place in the order of things. "Oh gently caress..." It slips out before she realizes that her staring at Tom, hands still frozen in front of her chest clutching a mimed stake, probably gives away just who she's been talking about. Did June hear her as well? Did she simply realize Hannah's one of the home kids, like Kendall? Did she somehow catch on to what Hannah had been planning on doing? She'd have to have read her mind and that's not a thing that people can do, right? Just like walking off a stake through the heart or the echo of a dead girl shouldn't exist, right? Without even really noticing she slowly takes a couple steps backwards from the weight of June's stare, hand grasping for Heather's sleeve.
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May 22, 2016 21:23
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XP: 2/5 | Harm: 0/4 | Conditions: Can't Roll, In the Maze Location: Science Class poo poo. That's the guy, huh? Tom? I know Tom -- well, I don't know him, but we've met a time or two. Rowan likes him. Oh, God, he knows my little brother, and he's -- One second to act before it's impossible to hide. I can feel it in the air. Hannah's hand is on my sleeve, and... I do the only thing I can think of. I reach up, take her hand in my own, and squeeze gently, trying for reassurance. Whatever's about to happen, I'm here with her. I let go all too soon, because... it'll be worse for Hannah if they see me holding her hand. But I'm still here. Let the storm hit.
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May 22, 2016 21:43
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Hot -1, Cold 2, Volatile 1, Dark -1 XP: 2/5 Harm 0/4 Conditions: Reckless I almost skid into the gaggle gathered out in the hallway. This isn't a community center. What the heck are they doing some kind of cult initiation. If that wasn't enough, my eyes fall on two outcasts. Hannah and Heather. Usually I wouldn't give them the time of day, but I *did* run into one of them with my bike earlier. I should probably apologize to her. Or something. annnnd I've lost Lisa. Great. Hopefully I can catch up to her later and apologize to her too. Or whatever. Something. Fan-loving-tastsic. Checklist for today: Ran over someone in my bike. Got harassed by jocks. Made a girl cry. Now... its either the hive or the frea... the girls. I *really* shouldn't call them freaks. I'll be one of them soon enough. A part inside of laughs at the irony. Brilliant. Which brings to the forefront *another* fire I have to put out. She knows. I was hoping she'd play it off like a bad trip or something, but given that she's looking at me with big, round, terrified eyes, its very clear that she hasn't. I don't miss the little hand holding. I really hope they're dyking it out, not that its code for "I too know he's a man eating monster". Because that would be the cherry on my poo poo sundae. Ok, deep breaths Tom. I don't really care what the preppy idiots think of me. They're... insignificant. Buzzing around like a cloud of flies in the jungle of the school hallways. If I think about it too long, I'm never going to actually do it. So I just approach them, casually, like I didn't just sprint into the middle of the hallway. I don't even acknowledge the flies clinging to the sides of the hallway. They know better than to tangle with me, and what's the worst they can do? Spread rumors? I doubt they can do worse than what's gonna happen when I don't show for tryouts. "Hey..." I say, and sort of trail off awkwardly. So uh... ok, I'm not great with girls, ok? They're not *that* attractive, but I'm a warm blooded male. I hesitate to say "living", but you know... girls. I look Hannah dead in the eye "We need to talk." I say simply, "Privately". I'm in her personal space, like its just the two of us in the hallway. I've forgotten Heather is there, and my step forward sort of brings us into contact. A quick brush. Was that a boob? Don't care. Focused. Intense. "The roof maybe?" I say, forcing a smile that probably doesn't come across as too friendly. I would like to handle this politely, but she has the ability to destroy me, and I'm not above a little intimidation if that's what it takes. I really hope it doesn't. I like Hannah, and I'm not going to hurt anyone. No matter how tempting. How necessary. Maybe I can offer her something? Accidentally turn on Heather 2d6+2 =9. Self, string, promise? TheCog fucked around with this message at 04:07 on May 24, 2016 |
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May 24, 2016 04:03
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Experience: 3/5 | Conditions: Careless | Harm: 0/4 | Location: Hallway/Science Class Feeling Heather's hand in her own is what ultimately makes her stay even as Tom's bearing down on them. Even though the words leaving his mouth leave Hannah with only one thought. 'I'm gonna get murdered on the roof my first day at school.' Oddly enough, the thought is not even that terrifying. There's a strange kind of comfort to knowing what's ahead and she can see it pretty clearly right now. She's going to step onto the roof and hear the finality of the metal door slamming shut, Tom's hand lingering on the metal for a moment before grabbing her shoulder just enough that she can feel the pointlessness of trying to pull herself out of it. He'll say something along the lines of 'You shouldn't have told anybody...' and push her forward like she's nothing until her feet teeter on the edge of the roof. She'll struggle despite the inevitability, trying to find enough purchase with the tips of her shoes on the edge of the roof. She's going to hang there for a moment, suspended in the air until he lets go of her and the world is going to sag away, rushing past her along with the air escaping her lips in the form of a scream until her back hits the fence-pole down below. A piercing crunch and the last thing she's going to see is the quickly spreading circle of blood on her shirt as the pole tears through it like some kind of karmic joke and Tom staring down her her from the roof. Her vision of the future is probably at least somewhat reflected on her face as she snaps back to reality. "I... we got Science now..." she stammers out, conveniently reminding Tom and herself of Heather's presence. That's right, she has an easy out from both June and Tom. Just gotta stick it out a little longer and Mr. Fiore is bound to arrive to whisk them off to class. Her hand absentmindedly clutching the front of her shirt as if to make sure it's not wet with blood, in the process pulling the neckline down enough to show a glimpse of cleavage. <SuddenC> Krysm, I need your blessing to roll Hot <SuddenC> !roll 2d6-1 <Krysmbot> SuddenC, 6-1 = 5 <SuddenC> Nope!
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May 24, 2016 04:54
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Experience: 4/5 | Conditions: Clueless; Attention Whore | Harm: 0/4 | Location: Football Field Bleachers Warren and I pass through the gleaming silver fencing that surrounds the football field, the gate having been left open presumably for groundskeeping - the field itself is immaculately groomed, and the unmistakable smell of freshly cut grass lingers over the great, green gridiron. There’s a rake and shovel leaning against it a few feet from where we enter, suggesting that whoever does the field maintenance might have been around recently. There’s no one in sight, though. The bleachers on home side of the field are almost disproportionally huge, easily big enough to fit the entire school. At their tallest, the towering, rickety bench-seats are hoisted about a couple stories high, supported by expansive sections of steel girders and supports. The announcer’s booth sits at the top in the center of the middle section, and there’s a set of stairs leading up to it from behind. On the visitors’ side only a third of the amount seats are available, so there’s not as much space to hide out behind them, and anyways it requires more of a walk to reach so students don’t really hang out there (according to Margaret). Leading the way, I cut a hasty pace across the corner of the field and around the edge of the risers to the concealed “hang-out” area. My nostrils are hit with the foul scent of smoke, and it’s not of the cannabis variety I had Standing there, brooding hard enough to give Tom a run for his money, is Aden “loving” Flint himself. Beneath his road-scuffed boots are the spent filters of at least a dozen cigarettes, like a pile of charred, fulvous bones in a dragon’s lair. Just glancing over his litter, I can tell he’s been here since school started – he hadn’t gone to homeroom. He looks at me with the same vinegar as he did in the hall and on the lawn. What the gently caress is his problem? Aden “loving" Flint posted:"You're late." Uhhh… So he’s been here waiting for me this whole time? Here we go again… what kind of weird poo poo is this stupid school throwing at me now? Did I miss a memo from this sociopathic sexpot? I think I would remember that. Unless… Oh poo poo! My mind quickly flashes back to Tenebris’s vague description of an opposing flame, and the sick, stomach-turning feeling I had this morning when Flint stared me down. Somehow I knew it was him; somehow I knew right then that I would have to deal with his poo poo eventually, I just hadn’t imagined it would be this soon. Suddenly I was very glad to have Warren by my side. God… he’s pretty green… hope he can just follow my lead on this! I had to decide what to do quickly, else this punk use my hesitation to his advantage. He’d already been expecting me to arrive, which caught me off guard, so now the only thing that might get me back in-step with this beautiful bastard would be to do something unexpected. Also, there's the possibility that he might be packing, and not in a good way. If I turn my back on him, I might not live to regret it. Alright, gently caress it. Let’s see how the Arkwright reject handles himself… Shrugging and smirking, my hands to my sides, palms facing upwards, I slink my way slowly towards him. “You sure about that? After all, ‘a Chosen arrives precisely when she means to’.” My eyes meet his, and I don’t let any fear or doubt cloud them; closing the distance steadily, as if simply looking for casual conversation. “That’s the problem with you Alt Prog assholes – you have no sense of timing!” <<ACTIVATE SUPER SLOMO>> [Taylor’s body jerks into a blur of motion, starting from the ball of her foot, swinging through the hip, and then finally snapping out with her fist at Aden’s chin. Her form is crisp and fluid, but she’s trying to close a bit more distance than is ideal.] RNG GODZ posted:Impromptu Chin Music (Lash Out at Aden): 2d6+2 10 “Warren, grab him!” _ _ _ [e: taking a String on Aden for rolling a 10.] suicide4sexbots fucked around with this message at 21:27 on May 24, 2016 |
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May 24, 2016 18:14
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Hot -1 | Cold -1 | Volatile 1 | Dark 2 EXP: 4/5 (+1!)(A!)(C!) | Harm: 0/4 | Conditions: Infected, Wooden, Missing The Point  V. High School, Under the BleachersI need to get my hands dirty. I need to toughen up. I need to let Taylor do the talking. I need to do a lot of things to get in with Taylor's friends, it seems. Being bad is a lot of work. I mean, I didn't really plan on skipping class, but in the heat of the moment I just did it. The heat of the moment. Did I do something without thinking about it? Was I actually impulsive? I actually have impulses? That's crazy. Speaking of, here's, uh... gently caress. That Guy. I've never seen him before, but he's got Taylor in it a bad way. 'You're late'? Is he a--No, don't talk. Let her talk. She's talking about a Chosen One or something. Is she talking about her? Or him? Well, I think she answered my question I didn't ask. He's definitely not her friend. Oh poo poo. Oh poo poo! She just punched him in the loving face! And. Taylor posted:"Grab him, Warren!" "Uh..." Stop loving thinking, Warren! Lash Out at Aden (1): 2d6+1 6 +1 forward from Light The Way makes a total of 7. Aden takes his harm, but he can deal one Harm to Warren, should he so wish. (When the SLOW-MO of TAYLOR's attack ends, WARREN's scream is audible. He charges shoulder-first at ADEN's reeling body, and tackles him to the ground. Then WARREN swings wide with his right hand, making contact with ADEN's elbow as he protects his face. WARREN throws his weight onto ADEN's abdomen and readies his left arm. It thuds against ADEN's chest, seeming to pin him in place. [SLOW-MO GO] WARREN's right fist hooks around and catches ADEN's cheek. It hits harder than it probably should, though we don't see the direct result just yet.) ----...-...-...-...-...-...-..f-.f-f-f-F-F- gently caress! I just... my pain receptors are going insane in my right hand. I need to shake it out or something, before it soft-locks on me. The guy's pinned down, so, I mean, it should be alright? I take a look up at Taylor and... Oh man, if I didn't love her before. I offer my (sore and potentially dead) hand to her and say, "Something like that?" Double May Care fucked around with this message at 06:48 on May 25, 2016 |
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May 25, 2016 06:38
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[INT. V. High School, Math Class] (Sam, Lisa, Val, absent: Taylor)  Compared to the less orthodox seating in other classrooms, Math class is almost a throwback to junior high. Individual desks in a evenly spaced out configuration. People can cluster into groups, but not quite as easily seclude themselves. Wherever you are, you're somewhat exposed here, under the bright fluorescent lighting. The decoration and setup is thus somewhat juvenile in feel, like it was designed for younger people than yourselves. The grade school decorations in particular are, out of character for Mr. Camael, but you remember that until a few months before school Ms. Horne was supposed to teach this class, and Mr. Camael is only acting as a substitute in addition to his Calculus classes. As you shuffle into the room after the bell, there's a notable absence of the teacher, and a few people milling about here and there, sitting on the front tables of their desks and generally not seeming too concerned. There's a mix of juniors in here along with the sophomores. Not necessarily because they were held back, just that some took remedial classes last year, like Accounting. That is to say, there's a lot of jocks in here. Samael is the first to get here, having broken off early from the hallways excursions compared to the others, and this affords him the benefit of having the attentions first of Steve Purcell, who is sitting on the teacher's desk across from his friend Ogre, who has that stupid furrowed look on his face as if someone told him a joke he didn't understand, which is likely since Stevie seems to be in a good mood. Conor Bredus is much more concerned with necking Dallas right there in the class, turned away from the door. That's most of the Skeeze, save Brandon Wolf, which means they are unleashed. "Check it out, it's Mr. Camael's holy roller. How's that underhand coming, Surname?" He then goes to make a very rude gesture using his hands in front of his mouth and his tongue against his cheek to emulate fellatio, while gently caressing what must be the scrotum of his unseen partner. The underhand could use some work, it's a bit too exaggerated. SAM: They don't know anything, right? This is just them loving with you, like they gently caress with everyone. Nobody saw anything, and if they did, they wouldn't talk about what happened at The World. I mean, if it really happened. Honestly, you don't even remember going home that night. But you remember red-orange hair... But that's not important. This doesn't mean anything, right? Right? Lisa isn't far behind, and in fact finds that Sam is right there still at the threshold being accosted by Stevie and his goons verbally, and if she wants to pass has to squeeze her way past or excuse herself, which is likely easily enough done as she goes to find her seat. Even Valentine, latest due to being kept by her short conversation with Taylor, comes before anyone see's head or tails of Mr. Camael. There's also very pointedly one seat that's not occupied. If anyone wants to make a move, now's the time. Teach isn't here to watch, and see. LISA: There's no-one from Monster Squad to talk to, or hide with, not that you'd be in much of a state to what with just happened with Tom. You know Taylor had Math, and she's straight up skipping already on her second period, leaving you alone. I mean, you just ran away from your other friend, but how does it make you feel that she can just do whatever she wants without any consequence? That for all the responsibilities you have to carry you can roll up a spliff under the bleachers and hang out and do her thing and look sexy as hell doing it, while you're falling apart at the seams over whether you left your stove on? And who do you end up sitting next to, PC, NPC, sophomore or junior? VAL: When you put your bag down and go to take a seat, withdrawing your things for class, something spills out that was, for lack of a better term, planted there. A neatly folded little paper flower. It's got several layers to be unfolded, like a junior high little fortune teller, with pen ink decorations all the while until finally it's fully unfolded, around a few crushed flower petals of a bright orange color, that stains the college rule paper. I know what you are, it says written in a very neat penmanship in indigo ink. It's not signed, and not clear from who or what it comes from. Except... Margaret Kaufman, the girl you bumped into in the halls. She's in the classroom, sitting prim and proper at the front, as if waiting for something. Maybe just the teacher to arrive, maybe not. She looks over to you and uneasily smiles when you look her way, and then turns back. What do you do?
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May 25, 2016 21:25
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[INT. V. High School, Lockers] (Hannah, Heather, Tom) The bell has rung, and the gaggle of gawkers start dispersing a bit, but there's still that lingering as the three are caught up in their little drama, and we pan back from the intimate space outwards to note that a few pairs of eyes watch the exchange, in all its little niceties. June Carver is more than just the projection of power. She takes a keen interest in this playing out, but after a few touches go to far, and the clumsiness of Hannah's response, she motions and leaves with the rest of her buzzing bees, to go to whatever class they themselves have, and wherever this exchange was going, they'd have to make a move soon or the three would be late. It just so happened that they were all going to the same class.  HANNAH: You know that there's something coming for you. You can feel it in your gut. Are you just getting sized up like the rest? What have you even done but even exist? What could she possibly be planning for you? Is it because of Tom? You know that last year she dated Lance, the previous football captain. Is this some kind of bizarre dominance play? Are you a threat to her? A thousand questions you're having difficulty even beginning to answer. But you do have a plan... Yet it's almost like she knows right? You had those bad intentions on your mind and she just stared at you that entire time, only occasionally smiling and offering a side comment to the rest, letting her court play itself for a moment. She's got something on you. June Carver takes a String on Hannah McPherson. What do you do?
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May 25, 2016 22:44
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[EXT. V. High School, the Bleachers] (Taylor, Warren) Taylor's righteous fist comes hurtling through the air in that slow motion, socking the kid right in his "Warren, grab him!" He glances up, and is a bit blindsided by Warren's presence at all. It was as if he didn't even see him until just that moment, and didn't even begin to really be able to defend himself right then. His cheek meets the dirt, his cigarette falling from his mouth as his teeth rattle against each other and Warren's wrestling moves do come into place a bit, even if it wasn't as part of the original plan with Stevie. Aden spits dirt as well as spittle on the ground as Warren reaches out to help Taylor back up, and he finds that there's blood on his hand. His vision is fading a little it. Why didn't he feel any pain? Because there was a pretty ugly gash in that palm of his now. Aden had jerked and held a switchblade up near Warren's gut, a single eye looking up from where his face was pressed up into the ground. "Don't know you,. Doesn't matter. But you need to get off me." Your move. WARREN: You deal a point of harm to him, but also take a point of Harm yourself, but it's going to be more severe next time if you don't finish him off or run away. Now that there's a weapon involved, you need to hold steady to do much of anything... unless you've got something up your sleeve too. You're only nicked really, he wasn't ready... And he doesn't seem to have real intent, but you've provoked him and provoked him bad. TAYLOR: All that smell of brimstone and that twitching feeling... It's not there right now. When he did that counter and reversal, it sucked all the wind right out of your sails. That kid has some Moves... It was almost like he knew exactly what you were going to do before you were doing it. You still gain a String on him, but he essentially spent his to turn your Move against you, and you take a point of Harm. Now that he's armed, he's much more dangerous. Luckily he didn't account for Warren at all, and perhaps surprisingly, he kind of came to your rescue. Does that embarrass you? How are you going to show that you're the one in control here? That you are the Chosen one? Better hold steady and show them you're not afraid... Or you can instead escalate this further.
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May 25, 2016 23:02
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Hot: -1 | Harm: 1/4 | EXP: 2+1=3/5 | Conditions: Infected, Space Cadet, Weary, In His Headlights, Terrified Location: V. High School, Math Class Hmm. Margaret may have found the petals from my... attack in the halls. Whatever it was. In retrospect, I should have thrown them away, or stowed them in my bag -- in my hand, it became a possible vector for infection. I wonder if she's experienced any contact high effects. And she knows it's grown from me. I know what you are. Should I be worried? I'm... I'm genuinely unsure. Part of the flowers has been the loss of the natural nausea reaction that comes from anxiety or fear. It has left me a little disconnected from my own feelings, in general. In any case, I should... think. Consider... <MetalForehead> holding steady <MetalForehead> !r 2d6+1 <Krysmbot> MetalForehead, 6+1 = 7 Choosing to take terrified and take 1 forward during this scene. Marking EXP for Cold in this new scene. A dull panic rises. It is not born in my stomach -- it grows through the nerves of my arms and, I think, my temples. I don't know if anyone has explicitly... known before. Ever. Not even Penny, who shrinks away from me. I should... how would I approach it? How did she know that I wasn't just... I don't know. Chewing on flowers. It would not be a reasonable conclusion for a normal person, but it would be a more reasonable conclusion than the idea that I am something other than human. Some days I hardly know how to understand it, and I am the only one in a position to genuinely know. Or I was. It is not hard to keep the fear out of my voice. Mostly, I just sound tired. "Margaret, I'm sorry to bother you, but... did I drop something earlier?" Poltergrift fucked around with this message at 06:09 on May 26, 2016 |
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May 26, 2016 02:34
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Hot -1, Cold -1, XP: 3/5 | Harm: 0/4 | Conditions: Can't Roll, In the Maze Location: Science Class Tom's not looking at me, not really, but he sort of inadvertently draws close, and... he touches me. It's, well, it's a little bit intimate, and I can't help but bite my lip and cringe at the sensation. No, this is terrible, he wants Hannah on the roof to do God knows what, but... it's nice to be touched. Tom, take your string. "... Yeah. This, uh, this isn't the time. Class has to start soon, right?" Maybe I shouldn't have said that last part out loud, but at this point, the only thing I can think of is stalling for time. Having a little more time means having a plan. On the plus side, if Tom wants to meet Hannah alone, well, "alone" can be pretty flexible. I didn't bring my camera to school, but I think there are a few in some supply closet or another, and if I can grab a school camera just to have it on hand in case it's needed... (No, you idiot, don't grab a camera for protection. Use your fists. Get a knife. Do something that'll actually matter --) I'm getting nervous, trying to think up plans, trying to figure out how to keep Hannah safe while not starting something with Tom right here. Can he be pacified somehow? Is there something he wants that I can give him, in exchange for leaving us alone? Is it warm in here? I can feel a bead of sweat trickling down the side of my head. Because I needed things to be more awkward right now, right? My goddamn body. Musk: 2d6+1 11 MC gives me a string on somebody, they choose to give me a compliment/apology/myself. Marking XP for Vol, since I believe this is a new scene?
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May 26, 2016 05:49
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Hot -1 | Cold -1 | Volatile 1 | Dark 2 EXP: 5/5 (+1!)(A)  V. High School, the BleachersThat's a hell of a gash, alright. It's my blood, too, though funny story about that... for later, I mean. Right now, I take a look at Aden's switchblade... God, he's awful. His reflexes are almost as good as mine. I could stand to learn something, huh. The way he bent Taylor's arm back--Wait, I don't remem--(BUZZ) The way he bent Taylor's arm back, the almost lightning-fast blade work. I'm almost jealous. Oh, wait. poo poo. He could kill me right now. He could. He would, too. Something in his eyes tells me. I mean, that and the fact that he's threatening me. poo poo. Hold Steady (4) (+1 Forward): 2d6 5 Well, at least that's an advance. Gonna post in OOC about it, when I cash it in that is. He's gonna loving kill me. "Whatever you d-do, just..." gently caress gently caress gently caress. "Don't... Don't hurt Taylor." I look at her, and I think my eyes are shaking. Is she as scared as I am? No, that isn't Taylor. Or... or is it? Maybe I should just... follow her lead on this one. Double May Care fucked around with this message at 06:00 on May 26, 2016 |
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May 26, 2016 05:55
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Hot: -1 | Cold: 1 | Volatile: 1 | Forgiveness/Trespass: 0 Experience: 1/5 | Conditions: none | Harm: 0/4 | Location: V. Highschool ...keep it together. Right. Everything needs to stay safely bottled up, like wine in old bottles, so that you can turn the other cheek, and they can strike that one too. Down in the bowels of the school is an engine that flows with black, oily blood, and feeds on the love, hate, greed, generosity... It doesn't care what, provided you feel something. The empty, neutral center is unacceptable. Forgiveness is an invitation to more punishment. They aren't going to stop either way, you know that, don't you? What would Lucy have you do if she were in this situation? Lash Out Physically at Steve (Volatile): 2d6+2 13 +1 to roll and +1 harm from Smiting Hold Steady before retaliating, if that's an option for NPCs. Take string if not +1 XP +1 Trespass for Judgement? "No, like this," says Sam, curling his hand just so, and, grasping Steve by the groin and shirt collar, slamming him into the wall, right by a poster explaining the basics of multiplication and division. The crack isn't that loud, but you can hear it in the classroom certainly, and you can certainly hear Steve falling to his knees when Sam drops him. Sam takes a deep breath, and doesn't kick Steve in the head, nor does he scan the surrounding area for a rock to cave his skull in with. Keep it together. Keep it together. "We good, or do we need to continue this after school?"
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May 26, 2016 05:57
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 Hot: 1 | Experience: 0/5+1 | Conditions: Clueless; Attention Whore | Harm: 1/4 +1 | Location: Football Field Bleachers Nemesis Movez posted:N O P E N I C E T R Y B I T C H It was too far - I knew it. I knew it but I threw anyway, spent my chance and paid the price. Rolled the dice and came up short. There was a split second between the ideal punching distance and Aden’s smug (yet remarkably handsome) face, and that half-moment, that imperfection was all he needed to Judo my rear end. His face is no longer there; I mean it was, and I swear I connected… but I just… don’t. poo poo! Whiffed! Before my strike even finishes its course his surprisingly strong grip encircles my wrist and twists, jerking forward and then back towards him, using the force of the intended blow to pull the rest of me along quite easily. Helpless to stop the change of direction, I’m acutely aware of how fragile my arm feels in his grasp. The slight muscles under my shoulder groan with a dull amber pain as they give involuntarily to his motions. It’s as if my body goes into a semi-shock state; in that instant where the physical inertia still continues, but the brain is skipping ahead, realizing its failure to act appropriately but unable to get counter-commands out to the necessary limbs quickly enough. My knees slam into the dirt and loose rock as I’m forced to the ground. I feel my left stocking tear and the unyielding stab of a jagged piece of gravel scrape over the bone of my shin. My arm is pinned behind my back and the crook of his arm has crept up into the exposed nook of my neck. Though I’m grimacing and already trying to struggle free, there’s a fraction of a second where I’m still so disoriented I can’t properly handle myself. I’m a gasping, trapped little thing, like a hyperventilating bunny, squirming in the clutches of a (very) foxy predator. gently caress… He’s got me… But then suddenly his grip is wrenched away by the Pain Train that is Warren, and I fall down to my hands and knees, free again. Frantically, I flip over to my butt and crab crawl a couple feet away from the scuffle, kicking and pushing off of Aden’s legs with my boots to keep him from locking me up. I look up at Warren with no small sense of gratitude. His face is intense, but he seems worried and has his hand out to me. It’s covered in blood. Warren posted:"Something like that?" “You…” What the hell?! He’s saving my rear end? [Close up on TAYLOR’s face. Those trademark big, green eyes are wide with shock and disbelief. She can’t believe WARREN just got her out of a scrape! Her lip trembles slightly and she bites it subconsciously. {’WARREN+TAYLOR THEME’ SWELLS IN BACKGROUND} Her gaze moves to his hand and her brow furrows. She looks back into his eyes again - are those tears forming, or just a play of the light? Only for a second… then those eyes turn back to ADEN.] He saved me. Here I was thinking about how he’d slowed me down and he goes and does something Clenching my teeth, I turn from Warren back to Aden, staring at the deadly shimmer of his blade as it catches a stray beam of light from the still-rising sun; which pauses between a gap in the lattice of clouds overhead to spy on our heated little scene. Am I the hunted? RNG GODZ posted:Books n' Blades (Hold Steady against Aden): 2d6-1 3 Any resolve I might have had coming into this fades pretty fast after adding up the fact that Aden is armed and Warren is injured. If I can’t even take this guy unarmed, how can I expect to handle him while he’s swinging that standard issue Arkwright pig sticker? If we stick around, things are only going to get worse. I’d need my own blade if I wanna put up a fight… I’m not ready… I’m not… You suck. Some heroine you turned out to be. Whatevs. It’s not like I was looking for this fight in the first place. Yeah… keep telling yourself that champ. The Déjà vu hits so hard it makes my head swim… I can’t remember my previous train of thought. I realize I’m still staring at Aden, but nothing is coming out of my mouth. The only thing my staggered consciousness can manage to force from my lungs is an indignant huff, but it comes out more of a whiny whimper: ”huunnhh…” Warren posted:"Don't... Don't hurt Taylor." That fool is still thinking of me… “Warren, c’mon! Let’s split for now!” I leap to my feet, teeth bared, practically snarling at Aden like a frightened beast. I grab my friend’s hand and jerk him along with me back towards the school. RNG GODZ posted:The Beaten Beat A Retreat (Run Away): 2d6+3 13 suicide4sexbots fucked around with this message at 20:41 on May 27, 2016 |
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May 27, 2016 20:06
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Stats: Hot -1,Cold 1, Volatile 1, Dark 0 Harm 1/4 EXP 2/5 Conditions: I finally made it to class. I've finally made it to a place where I can calm down. My heart is pumping fast, but no one in here knows of the sins that I have comitted, or the horrid conditions of my life. No one here knows what to expect of me this morning. No one here knows about what has gone wrong, about the fallacies of my mind. Or whatever. No Taylor, No Warren, no Cold, hurting Tom. God, I almost wish Taylor was here, as dumb as that is. She, she knows how to be.. real, in a way that I don't, in a way that's comforting, in a way that pulls the world to her ends. Sure, she got in trouble, but nothing substantial. She, she got ME in trouble, almost. I got out of it, but, but I need to do so many things tonight that I don't know if it was worth it? No hurt for her. No real CONSEQUENCES. Nothing burning at her. Nothing ripping at her. Nothing that makes her want to hide and shrivel and die. Nothing, Nothing, Nothing of the sort. Taylor lives a plenty charmed life. ... Whatever. I force myself to relax my body, if not my mind. That, that doesn't come undone .That doesn't unwind, at least not today. But my body can, just for now . I can't take my seat, though- there's Sam in the way, facing off against two... jerks. I carefully fix them in my eyes, remembering their faces to avoid later. Unfortunately, it seems it won't be that easy. While they were certainly harrassing Sam, I'm still taken aback by the sudden, the, the ATTACK. I, I don't kno, I, um. For a long moment I stare- And then I do a stupid thing. I, I don't /like/ violence, and I don't want to see anyone get hurt. And this just seems to confirm what I thought about Sam- Broken, Violent, like, like a serial killer- And, and I wasn't thinking- and I have to get past him, and- And so I try to push him over- knock him down onto the floor, to get him off of that other boy- And, and,, oh, gently caress, this was a terrible decision. <Nea> Lash Out Violently against Sam <Nea> !roll 2d6-1 <Krysmbot> Nea, 3-1 = 2
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May 28, 2016 07:15
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Hot -1, Cold 2, Volatile 1, Dark -1 XP: 2/5 Harm 0/4 Conditions: Reckless A weird... scent, fills my nostrils. Its sweet, and musky and very human. It feels... orange. I realize where it's coming from. It's Heather. drat it. I was too focused on Hannah, didn't really even pay attention to her. I supposed I ought to apologize. "Sorry Heather, didn't mean to interrupt, but this is important. Life or death you might say.". I hope Hannah gets the message. Because drat did that sound sinister. I'm not the best at this. I look at her, straight in the eyes. "I wouldn't do this if it weren't important". That dealt with , I realize there's no way we get this done before class. Not even if we hurry. But this is more important than class. "Look, Hannah, I don't have a choice here. We have to talk. It's important. Please. You'll be saving my life here. I'll owe you one." Spending a string to offer xp if she's willing to come with Tom to the roof That should do it right? There's no way she'll turn down an impassioned plea like that. "I'll do my best not to make you too late to class. This shouldn't take long anyway" Not to mention this is more important than class. But I won't say that much. I finally notice that June has her eyes set on us. What's her sudden obsession with me? Please tell me I'm not going to have to defuse *that* bomb... Highschool sucks. Tune in for other revelations at 5.
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May 28, 2016 15:47
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Experience: 5/5 | Conditions: Careless | Harm: 0/4 | Location: Hallway/Science Class Hannah looks increasingly uncomfortable at Tom, even when he basically starts pleading with her. But then he notices June glaring at them. At her. And he he looks almost as uncomfortable as she feels. Maybe, just maybe he's being honest and she could actually sway him to her side. Apparently she somehow placed herself on June's shitlist and someone like Tom siding with her instead of joining the ranks of the Skeeze would be an incredible boon. And she's got the fact that she knows what he is up her sleeve. Besides, what's the worst that could happen, right? It's not like it'd be the first time she dies. She can't help but let out a nervous chuckle that must seem incredibly out of place. "Okay, fine, fine! Just... hurry up then before Fiore gets here." She nods her head down the hallway and hurries off, glad at least to get away from June and her gaggle even with the promise of future trouble burning a hole in the back of her skull. She shoots Heather a glance as well, wondering if she'll come along. She'd almost rather she didn't get drawn into whatever weird stuff is going on here, but she wouldn't thumb her nose at the moral backup of having someone keep an eye on her Either way they make their way up the stairs in tense silence, both aware of the topic they're heading up there to discuss. How do you even breach something like that? With a joke? Maybe she should just let Tom tackle that one. He's the one who wants to talk after all, so she just kind of awkwardly holds open the door for him. No way in hell is she going to play into that scenario her mind dreamed up and walk out onto the roof first.
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May 28, 2016 16:30
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Hot -1 | Cold -1 | Volatile 1 | Dark 2 EXP: 0/5 (A)  V. High School, ExteriorShe took my hand and started running away. This is fine. Hey, I don't wanna die either. And I think she called me by my name too. Wow. I'm having a lot of fun today, if you can believe it. Was... was she crying just then? Or was it just the sunlight shimmering I think I understand. Somewhere in there, she really was as scared as me. Afraid of what... no, I gotta stop that. The point is, she's dealing with some poo poo too. What a... wonderful thing. I feel like we should slow down. I start to drag behind once we're up the big steps, tugging a little on her hand. "Wait..." I'll get there. "Taylor, I... God, I'm glad we got out of there. Intact, anyway." I chuckle a little, and realize I've been holding her with my cut hand this whole time. "Ah, poo poo. You know, we did the best we could with just our bare hands. We knocked him on his rear end, right?" Well, I mean, I did. I feel like if he didn't catch her off-guard she could too. "But hey, we'll get him next time, won't we? We'll be better, faster, stronger." This is confidence. This is what I'm displaying right now. Yes. "And hey, if you need a hand, I'm always around." I take a sec to flip my hair out of my face and give her a grin. "Y'know, we're already late for class if you wanted to, I dunno, hang out?" Turn on Taylor, with +1 forward from Twue Wuv. Turn On Taylor: 2d6 3 ...The gently caress did I just say?
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May 31, 2016 07:38
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| # ? Apr 24, 2024 16:38 |
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Hot -1, Cold -1, XP: 3/5 | Harm: 0/4 | Conditions: Can't Roll, In the Maze Location: Science Class -> ??? I can't help but stare at Tom for a moment. He sounds... sincere. Really sincere. Is this really that important? I mean, it must be, if what Hannah is saying is right and he's some sort of... if he's... if this is really true, I mean. Besides, the roof would be a really stupid place to kill somebody, right? It'd be really obvious. He'd take her out in the woods or something if he wanted to really hurt her, right? Hannah's looking at me, and silently, I look back. No, she's right to be scared, still -- even if I want to trust Tom, a little bit. No part of this is right, even if it might be basically safe. I nod to Hannah a little before they depart, mouthing 'don't worry' under my breath. I mean, she'll worry. She should. But Tom doesn't have to know that she'll have backup. Unnoticed, as usual, I slip my things back in my bag once I'm alone again and slip out. Class still hasn't started, so there's nothing to disrupt and nobody to pay attention... and if anyone asks, I'm going to the bathroom. I'm allowed to do that, right? And bring my bag with me? Nobody wants their school stuff stolen. I had to buy a new calculator this year, and y'know, my dad'd get mad if it went missing, and you know how things go... (It's a hobby of mine, sometime, coming up with excuses. Nobody asks me for them, but it's nice to have them on hand.) Once I'm out of the class, I think, briefly, of the clothes in my bag. Surely Camron would have some reason to be on the roof, right? Decorating for the big day? No, not right now -- this is probably something I have to do as myself. It'd be a layer of safety, maybe, but... if I wanted to stay safe, I wouldn't be doing this at all. If it were Laurel's clothes, maybe? This is a really Laurel thing to do. I have to be a little bit like her, right now, and be there for Hannah. I slip into the stairwell. The school's already forgotten about me. Hide in the Scenery to lurk at the roof meetup: 2d6+2 10
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Jun 2, 2016 02:58
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