Post by Mila on Mar 20, 2013 1:42:30 GMT -5
[Lara] As the flag-bearer, or more appropriately named thief, the victorious sprinter was the recipient of many of these juvenile and shamelessly overt displays of victory. Her pert rear received a swat or two, and before she knew it Jake had swung her up onto his shoulders or ultimately winning the game in what had ended in a dramatic base race – won, only just, before Jed of the Black Team made it to touchdown. At last, their festivities came to an end. Most students were hurrying back for the bathrooms and locker rooms to shower and dress in their standard uniform, ready for the next bout of classes. Lara was one of the lucky few with a free period to waste and so, she emerged from the bathrooms at a leisurely pace, in the pristine white blouse, artfully twisted tie and plaid skirt of her uniform. Mary-Jane clad feet did not bring her steps back toward Hecate Castle, rather, the forest that bordered the outer grounds. On second thought, perhaps she had kept her sneakers on. With the smile of victory still painted about her plush, ruby-stained lips, the Siren may have glanced, on her way, toward Beau who she was fast becoming familiar with, or Alice who shared the win. Her steps faltered, seeing the altercation between students. It seemed almost as though the belle would intervene but, washing her hands clean of a situation that didn't involve her, Lara continued on her way into the forest. She had purpose this day. A purpose that would bring her deep withie forest, and again as soon as evening fell. In her hands was a tome.
[Dane] The often brooding groundskeeper, stoic by nature, could be found traipsing through the forestry which surrounded Hecate. What had brought Dane within the encompassing woodland? As per the request of Professor Sage, he had been irritably tasked with procuring her latest produce from deep within the forest. A menial request but one he had no choice but to comply with. Luthor’s watchful eyes ever upon him, the newly appointed carer of the grounds had to tread carefully, standing within a precarious position, one the council were ready to exploit. Tormenting fragments of memory aside, he trudged through shrubbery, a heavy footfall beating the earthen ground, careful steps over obscured roots. Like most professors, Dane had been given free reign with the choices of his attire. A red chequered shirt adorned his broad chest, sleeves rolled up to the elbows revealing muscled forearms beneath. Navy jeans accompanied by a westerners belt and buckle covered his slacks, and workman’s boots ever aiding his repetitive trips in and out of the forest. With ease the brawny shifter carried the baggage, yet much to his dismay, a low hanging branch, a thorn in his proverbial side, as it ripped into one of the bags, green potato like fruits toppling to the ground, some concaving upon impact. “Fuck ye.“ He growled, dropping both loads at his booted feet. “Sh’can drag this shit back there ‘herself, swine.“ Cursing he bent low to salvage what remained of the fruits, that was until he heard footsteps. Bolting to a stand, he whirled, brown eyes perused the tree line, spotting the all too familiar uniform of a Hecate student. At a headstrong approached, he manoeuvred through the trees, coming to a halt at a short distance away from the unsuspecting Lara. “An what d’ya think yer doin’ ‘ere missy.“ A gruffness to his vocals, the product of his many nights glass deep in whiskey.
[Lara] The tome had since been opened in her delicate hands, head bowed as keen emerald orbs scanned the calligraphic text with the eye of one intelligent beyond her years. It was one of those borrowed from the Library the day before, and though she had lain awake well into the nights devouring the depths with a true thirst for knowledge and answers, she wasn't near to making a dent in the pages. Manicured fingers turned the page, the click of her tongue voicing her mild irritation at a theorem she did not grasp. She wanted, almost, to ask a Professor for aid but this particular 'assignment' had not been set her by a Master. No, this was perhaps, a little extra curricular a project, personally allotted herself and most probably a great break of Hecate's rules. “Charlemagne,” she whispered, the name rolling eerily off her tongue in the silence of the gloomy Forest – darkened by the cool weather, even at such an early hour. “You know.” But the girl was dead. Evidence seen freshly by her own, tormented and terrified eyes, only to be revisited every time she saw the ghostly transparent formation of Charle's spirit every time they passed one another along Hecate's grounds. But she did not see. Could not see. The blonde student, long since dead, had a tortured and mournful look in her eyes. It was heart-breaking to see the ghosts of Hecate. Forever bound there, and never at peace. Lara crouched on her knees, gaze deviating between the open page she had just flicked to and a thicket of weeds on the ground. Her free hand brushed over the leaves while a frown worried at her lips. So involved in what she was doing, the arrival of a man unknown to her had brought the girl to a visible jump, one that had adrenaline seeping through her and her heart leaping into a panicked beat instantaneously. Lara's eyes met his. With her hand pressed to the swell of her chest, she noted with a little embarrassment, “You scared me.” As though she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. But she hadn't. It was was a free period, and she had every right to wander the Forest unattended. The tome was not illegally borrowed, and she wasn't doing anything that broke Hecate's rules. Yet. A becoming stain colored her cheeks, but the Siren was a fair liar – even when startled. “I was collecting some Briar Wick and Thistle for a Herbology assignment.” Her explanation was polite, tone melodic but her brow rose as if to say, Do you have a problem with that? She didn't really know the Groundskeeper. He was housed in his own Hut within the forest and further from Hecate, and she hadn't seen him at meals. Stranger danger. “And what do you think you're doing?”
[Dane] Mr West had not expected to find himself in the company of another. At an eerily and unexpectedly subtle march, he encountered the mischievous Lara. Chestnut brown eyes brimming with suspicion scanned her crouched form. Youthful appearance and draped in the navy uniform of Hex, she was undoubtedly a student. Parading through the forest, to his limited ruling knowledge, was not against the rules, yet her appearance beckoned interest and scepticism. The groundskeeper suppressed his amusement, his announcement jerking the girl to a stand, eyeing the becoming light blush which coloured her cheeks. “Looks like it.“ He commented, observant gaze flicking from her guilty appearance and the tome of which she seemed to handle with care. The explanation would be met with an indifferent gaze, thoughts drifting to some of his own readied excuses during his youth and time at Hex. “‘course you are.“ A piercing stare met her struggling mask of innocence, the groundskeeper made note of her well composure. “I work ’ere, I come ‘n go when I want, this ‘ere is my forest.“ He boasted, as if Lara was a trespasser within his domain. No doubt she wouldn’t know him, taking his meal times within his hut on the outskirts of the grounds, a recent addition to the Hecate faculty. “Yer shunt be ’ere, don’t yer ’ave classes or somethin’?“ Sure the girl was doing no wrong,..yet, but curiously he watched her, broad hands finding themselves wrapped around his belt buckle.
[Lara] She made no move to stand, unable to force herself to relinquish the possibility of this thicket of weeds being that of which she hunted, and therefore a necessary element to her latest project. Her head came a tilt so that her striking emerald gaze could better observed the taller, standing male. “Yours, is it?” She had her doubts. This strange man was no Professor she had known of and this was a girl who had found herself the victim to an attack but a few months ago, in the very same woodlands. “Actually,” the French girl corrected him condescendingly, “This, by Aether rule and that of the council is the Hecate Woods, or alternatively by Untouched law, is Briar Preserve. I am sure you are mistaken, Monsieur, because it certainly isn't yours.” Her eyes dropped to his hands momentarily, and then a frown worried at those plush, ruby-stained lips. “I have a free class for study. And not that it is any of your business, collecting stores for my Herbology assignment is study. You shouldn't be here. Don't you have dirt to shovel, or something?” Her head inclined, a challenge in her eye as she unleashed the notably catty remark. She was being bold. A little ruder than she would usually dare with an adult at Hecate but then, before she attended this Academy she had been a little more demanding. There was something about Dane that bothered her.
[Dane] At a stand, is towering form loomed over the crouching student. Shafts of light pierced the treetops, casting an earthy emerald glare around them, the silhouette of his shadow obscuring the pages of her procured tome. The usually stoic façade which graced his ruggedly weathered features suppressed an amused grin. The lass was certainly an uppity one, quite the mouth on her and she had no qualms running it. “Do ya see annae one ’round to dispute m’claim?“ Taking a step towards her, entering the clearing gruff words all the while leaving his marred lips. “Besides, it’s not the council who’re takin’ care o’this place. Far’s I’m concerned there mine.“ He copied her matter of fact tone, yet his accentuated by his barbarically rough vocals. “You’ll find missy that it is my business, student all alone, looks suspicious t’me. I’ve done my shovelling fer the day, watch that tone o’yers lass, it’ll be getting’ yer in trouble.“ It seemed like Dane spoke the truth, for dirty handprints marked his chequered shirt, jeans which were perhaps once passable, now flecked with the dirt of a days work upon the grounds. “Yer gonna keep poutin’ at me like that, or yer gonna gather yer things and come with me?“ Dane had every intention of marching her back to Hecate, selfishly earning himself a break from his menial labour, yet still unpractised, he doubted the knowledgeable student would indulge his attempt.
[Lara] He spoke like a barbarian, which brought a scrunch of distaste to her delicately painted visage. When asked, the femme made a great pantomime of looking over one shoulder, the next, and then gesturing with a poised index finger to herself. Disputing his claim, she was. “Moi.” The slight intimidation felt at his forward step was brushed aside, replaced instead with another heavenward roll of those enchanting emerald eyes. “You'll find, that I don't believe a word you say. I really do think you should see to more shovelling, for idle hands are the Devil's tool.” This, spoken in a mocking, sing-song voice. It was almost as if she was the adult, and he the minor. All through this battle of stubborn wills, Lara had been plucking from the Earth leaves from the weeding thicket, and holding her collection and tome in hand rose to her feet. “No, I'm not.” He couldn't force her. He wouldn't force her. For all the strict ruling of Hecate, there wasn't a single rule she was breaking and students, particularly of her age and studious manner were in all rights welcome to roam at will when it came to their study periods. If he persisted and followed, she would brush him off with more snipped comments until eventually, it was time, half-way through her free class that she was supposed to meet Beau. To the pier, she went.
[Beau] Time was of the essence. Hurried hands resulted in quite a few hisses and discomforted gasps of pain. “Fuck.” Not quite one to curse without reason, Beau gingerly touched his index finger to the split and raw flesh of his lower lip only to make a funny face as a result. It had already started the process of swelling, puffed up just noticeably enough for him to groan. Worse even was the slight lump to the bridged slope of his nose, the bruise beginning to spread towards his tear ducts making him appear like an overtired raccoon. He was under the assumption that the first jolt and Johanna’s efforts had somehow settled the dispute. Relatively unaware of the effect the lure had had in temporarily subduing the man, Beau looked at his watch in slight panic. “Ahh, I’m gonna be so late.” With plans to meet the Siren Sixth year going on seven minutes ago, he dug through his assigned locker and pulled out a hoodie, slipped it on and flipped up the hood. Both his slightly bloodied shirt and a bit worse for wear face were obscured if not hidden entirely. It’d have to do. Not quite bothering to change out of his athletics from the capture the flag game, he grabbed his pre-prepared swim bag and threw it over his shoulder before ducking out of the locker room and racing off towards the Loch. Still slightly off kilter, he was almost surprised to still see her on the edge of the dock. “Hey Lara! - I made it!” Came the slightly accented phrase, a bit thicker with his current frustrations and worries. The words stung his mouth as his tennis shoes thudded against the dark wooden planks in long strides. Vaguely winded, his slowed to a walk a few steps short of her as he cleared his throat, exhaled loudly and dropped into a crouch before kicking his legs out to sit completely. “I – uh – Sorry I’m late.” Tugging his sleeves up to his elbows, Beau would press his palms to the pier and opt to gaze at the water then slightly at her pile of belongings, then briefly up at her before back to the reflective surface. “Nice job at the game today, by the way. You’re pretty quick.” A thoughtful pause as he drummed his fingers a bit. "So - what's on the lesson plan for today?" Clearly, the more time spent with the femme the more comfortable he felt with idle chit chat, even if at the moment he was avoiding any direct or prolonged eye contact. ||
[Lara] On the pier, she had waited. And waited. Truly he was not overly late, but the Siren had come early for their scheduled study session, halfway through the free they both had after Physical Education. Notably, right after her unwanted meeting with the rude, sour and pompous Dane or, rather, Groundskeeper Willy. Even their accent was similar. Seated at the end of the pier with her slim legs taking to an idle sway, those manicured fingers had taken to a testy drum against the wood, ceasing only when the sounds of quickened footsteps brought her to a turn. “You're late,” were Lara's words. Spoken a little irritably, for they had only had half a class to begin with, and now they were looking more at a quarter. The belle remained where she was, regarding him sourly though, her poor mood wasn't entirely at his hands. Beau could not be blamed for Dane's behaviour. When he sat, she gave him a look. One that altered her expression and mood completely – plush lips parting with a gasp until they were agape, and those emerald orbs wide in shock. “Beau!” Not Ariel, not Beaujangles, not Bobo. Just Beau. One delicate hand reached protectively, worrisomely for his cheek. “Your face!” Who had done this to him? Even though they were the same age, she felt a little.. protective of him. He was a fellow dual race. They were rare and owed it to each other to stick together, especially when he seemed so quiet and self-kept. He was no jock to begin fights. Had she noticed that this peace-keeper would be brought into Walsh's little fit earlier, she would have stayed to defend him. Not the others, just Beau. The tome at her side momentarily forgotten, along with the gathered weeds pressed between its front pages, the girl swivelled in her face to better look at him. Lara's velvet-soft fingertips traced so barely and gently over the bruising and wounds. “Oh, Beau. What did he do to you?” She knew well of the Burnout Walsh. He thought he was somethin', huh? Not when it was Jake and the others he was fighting against, just the weaker, just those without an entourage to aid them.
[Beau] Oh no. She was upset. Damnit. And with a good chunk of their free period already long gone, he understood why. “I know. I’m sorry.” He breathed again, genuinely disappointed at the series of events that had led and resulted in his current predicament and mishap. Well aware that his attempts at being subtle and inconspicuous were faulty, it was only a matter of time before she noticed right? But in that brief moment of irritation confronting guilt he was surprised by her sudden exclamation. A wide eyed blink had him panning his eyes from the water back up to her shocked riddled features. She gasped his name, but he said nothing whilst resisting the natural urge to recoil away from touch even her delicate touch. It still stung and ached after all and too much contact would have his eyes unintentionally watering. Still, he managed to stay his head and shoulders and keep them in place, offering a non-committal up and down shrug, barely, in response. Blue hues sort of attempted to follow her finger for a moment but soon enough looked up meet the fellow siren’s concern. “It – uh – looks worse than it feels.” The boy’d mumur, letting out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding as her hand eventually fell away from his face. Habitually, he’d let his tongue leak out to soothe the split after her fingertips had brushed over it. Oddly enough, he wasn’t flushed, just slightly sheepish about it all, as he reached up to knock his hood off and raise his brows curiously at her, slightly tilting his head. “..Is it really that bad?” He wondered honestly almost innocently requesting her thoughts whilst trying to wear an even expression so she could properly assess the damage. For some reason, he trusted her opinion, despite being well aware of her deceptive Sirenous abilities. ||
[Lara] A frown worried at those plush lips. Of course, it looked terrible. He was not bothering with any form of Bewitchment or Glamour to disguise his face – this was Hecate. When a student stumbled into the infirmary after a brawl, did he think they were coddled? Surely he had attended enough years at this delinquent academy to know that was certainly not the case, and finding oneself in a brawl such as this was likely to garner the attention of a Professor and, therefore, detention. The sort where lines were written across a students back, not when lines were written on parchment. Nurses generally wouldn't lend their assistance to the after effects of brawls, unless a student was near to death. Doing so would only encourage dangerous behaviour. This, was to teach them a lesson. That said, there were plenty of Healer Mages on campus – plenty of friends who would heal you, no questions asked, and plenty of acquaintances who, for the right price would do the same. “Why haven't you gotten someone to fix this?” Knowing he wasn't particularly vain, Lara spoke honestly, “It really is that bad. If any of the Professor's see you like this...” The belle clicked her tongue, and shook her head. “At least Glamour it when you go back to class.”
[Beau] The look on her face answered his inquiry clearly enough. The frown, that flicker in her eye, all of it. Mirroring her dismayed expression with a frown of his own, he lifted a singular knuckle to his mouth and pressed against it gingerly as if it would somehow deflate the puffed up appendage. Another roll of his shoulders back in a shrug. Shrugshrugshrug. “I-I dunno’. I was already late for our lesson, and I sort of slipped away before any professors showed up..I thought..” He wasn’t sure what he thought, but after another shrug, he leaned back, pressing his back to the pier and bringing his knees up and to a bend in front of him. Blue eyes shut in an exhale before blinking up at her next suggestion. “Glamour--” He sighed, frustrated. “..That didn’t even occur to me. I’m not even sure I could maintain it properly..” Pushing himself back up after a moment, he turned slightly more to face her head on, sitting indian style now, willing the muddled, raw, and swollen features away in an attempt to replace them with crisp, undamaged flesh. Brows furrowed in concentration as he leaned forward slowly, as if to give her a better look. Unsure if the glamour was effective, or all that accurate he scrunched his features slightly with a slight tilt to his head. “…Better?” Beau asked her again, appearing uncertain yet focused. ||
[Lara] Huffing a fondly exasperated sigh, the all too worried femme shook her head at his explanation. It was so careless of him! Did he want the lash? Lara had only been treated to a flaying of the back on one occasion, after a particularly dangerous and violent game of sport. She had learned her lesson well and true, and had not danced the risky dance of rule-breaking since. Well, not to such a great extent. She too turned to face him, legs tucked gracefully beneath her and to one side, rather than Indian style which would have been indecent in so shortly cropped a skirt. “You're a Siren. You need to learn to think like one. It's a part of you – you can't ignore that because you're Mer. Not any more.” The belle watched as he concentration, the unjudging tutor in his attempt, even as he failed and, failed miserably. Her teeth sunk into the lower of her full lips, attempting to hide the fact that she was smiling. Just a little. It couldn't be helped, the smile rising to the surface as the handsome Mer asked of his progress. “Not quite..” Not at all. Serious face now. “Come on Beaujangles, you can do this. Just focus the energy of your Aether, see it as you want me to see it, and let it become you. Settle your mind – envision what you want. I'll see it then, I swear.”
[Beau] The sincerest Siren you’d ever meet, Beau wasn’t built to deceive or dissuade. It just didn’t come natural, nor did violence – hence his subsequent attempts at being diplomatic even when a fist was hurtling towards his face at breaknose speed. Still, his current efforts were genuine, dark brows crinkled in an intense concentration that bore no ripe fruit. He waited, holding what he thought and felt to be a decent shot at a proper glamour only for her to stifle an amused expression and ultimately shake her head, dashing said efforts. Insta-frown and a sigh as he tousled his own hair in a huff. “Really?” He murmured mostly to himself, dipping his chin down for a moment whilst sucking in a breath and listening to her encouragement wholeheartedly with an open mind. IthinkIcanIthinkIcan. Still looking down, he nodded. Her nickname elicited a smile, despite the fact that it tugged and stung at his lower lip. Steeling his gaze, he shut blue eyes tight and wore a look of visible effort. It took a few. Lara may have even thought he gave up, but in reality he was moving feature by feature, one by one. Drawing from the reflection in the locker room he started top to bottom, willing away the dark bruised circles that took away from his naturally bright blue optics. From there, he continued the decent of his glamour to the lump on his nose, smoothing out the bridge and finally progressing to the gruesome looking split in his pink flesh melding back into one piece and letting some air out of it like a small balloon. See it as you want me to see it. Beau tried, boy did he try hard. Shoulders slightly hunched, he’d lift his head and hesitantly open his eyes at the Sultry sixth year, again searching her emerald hues for some sort of approval as he blinked and presented his best features for her inspection. He didn’t ask this time, only lift his brows slightly in anticipation. ||
[Lara] Mhmmm, really. No more potastinating, just get in their and fwuit it. She watched intently as he focused through his second attempt, striking emerald never missing a moment of his successful progress. When finished, before he could quite ask – even in expression, at the result, the femme was flying at him. Or rather, a sound quite like squee was escaping her smiling lips, while her form half leant, half leapt forward so that slim arms could slip around his shoulders in an excitable hug. “You did it!” The little Siren that could. The French belle continued, all too excited over a success that wasn't even hers, “Vous l'avez fait!” So close, her sweet and summer scent would evade his senses; something raspberry, or strawberry perhaps. His Glamour was perfect, but he was no Healer. The pain of his wounds were still beneath the falsehoods and so, she was careful not to touch any part of his body she knew to be injured. Then, Lara pulled away. Unable to remove her smile. “We have to go.” Her free was almost done for, and though they shared an age they did not share a year – and therefore, no classes. “I have G.A History. Ugh.” If she had to hear one more word on Napoleon, she thought she might leap off the pier. To make matters worse, Lara had studied this segment of Untouched history last year, at the prestigious Academy she formerly attended. The belle rose gracefully to a stand and, made back for Hecate, Beau likely in tow.
Beau blinks as a result of said tackle hug, returns the gesture whilst somehow managing to maintain the glamour despite his surprise. Vaguely grinning, he'd scoop up his belongings and ghost the French Belle's footsteps. "Merci beaucoup." The fellow european chimed, falling in stride back to Hecate. ||