Hey again. ^_^ Another note, if yer interested in seein my fanart fer Zorn and Thorn from this fic (whom I love fer no logical reason whatsoever) ya can visit my shrine ta them at http://members.tripod.com/~Zarla_S/ZornThorn.html. ^_^ Thanks again fer readin and reviewin. ^_^
"Highwind, this is NOT what was assigned."
Cid rolled his eyes, sliding down further into his chair as he crossed his arms, muttering under his breath.
"#$%@in' can't appreciate..."
His professor put down the offending paper on Cid's desk, apparently getting angrier at Cid's lack of submission. "I don't understand how you plan on succeeding in life if you can't follow simple instructions."
Cid glared at the professor, his eyes almost hidden underneath small spikes that protruded from behind his goggles band. "I wrote you a #$^#in' paper, ain't that enough for you?"
The professor sighed again, crossing his arms and staring down at Cid with the same condescending look that Cid had learned to hate through his life. All teachers had that look. "I asked for a short summary of the events that have made you who you are today, and instead you give me this. This does not fulfill the requirements."
Cid kept his arms crossed, struggling to keep his voice under control. "It IS my god#$%@ life, but it's told a different way."
His professor sighed, his voice easily showing his quickly fraying patience. "You mind your language while in this class, Highwind. This story has nothing to do with who you are, what you're doing, or what brought you here."
"It has everythin' t'do with how I got here!" Cid slammed a fist down on the desk furiously, trying to keep the all-too familiar obscenities from his speech. He could feel the eyes of the rest of the class on him, which only fueled his indignation.
"Highwind, this is supposed to be a story about YOU, not someone who vaguely resembles you in some fantasy dimension!"
Cid was about to rise up and respond, but the professor turned away from him. "This conversation is over, and if you want to discuss it further with me, meet with me after class."
Cid clenched his fists until his fingers hurt, slumping back into his seat with multiple muttered words under his breath. "Old #$^#er..."
He hated writing classes, they were all the same. Go a little away from the assignment, try something new, and they jumped all over you. They always claimed to value creativity, but submit something that was REALLY creative, and they said you didn't follow the rules. As it was he managed to get the writing class who had a total #$^# for a teacher, and it just figured considering Cid's luck. He loved creative writing, but all his creative writing classes had been about anything but that. Fortunately his parents weren't aware of how he loved to write at all, therefore he didn't get signed up into one of the even more obnoxious weekend classes or something along those lines. He hated the entire concept of weekend classes, believing that weekends were HIS time to be spent how HE wanted, not being dragged to some class that was supposed to make his writing "better". He harbored a deep resentment towards writing classes for that very concept of making you be able to write "better", and he always resisted what they said or taught vehemently, refusing to absorb or accept anything they presented to him. This enfuriated his teachers to no end, and Cid replied in kind.
He had gotten his ability to write from the books he had read and the things he had learned, not from writing papers on preassigned topics. He chose books that he liked, books that he found were a challenge, books that he felt had a message, and he always avoided the classics, finding them to be far too over-hyped. He read voraciously when he was younger, and still did to this day. When he let his imagination wander, he found all the things he had picked up from the different authors that he read and liked beginning to show through, and he had practiced as much as possible, his skill only improving with time. Not with writing classes.
All of his writing classes had always been abysmal, and he hated structured writing, particularly essays. There was nothing more soulless to him then an essay, a vague, spineless paper performed and executed to such particular guidelines about such a particular topic, touching on particular points, and if you didn't follow the guidelines correctly, you failed. Cid narrowed his eyes with the memory of one of his papers on one of the "star-crossed lovers" stories he had been forced to read in one of his english classes once where he had wrote supporting their death, saying they were better off that way. That had got him not only a failing grade, but several meetings with the school counselor.
He hated having to mask how he felt through carefully worded opinions that wouldn't go against what the teacher was teaching. He hated having to pretend to go along with everyone else. He believed in his opinions and felt they had a right to be heard, and he hated writing classes for muffling not only that, but his entire talent by constricting it to such a small, confined allowed area.
He hated writing classes.
Cid breathed quickly, trying to control his temper. He hated this class, just as he had hated all of his previous writing classes, and he wished for nothing more then to have a cigarette in his mouth, just for the ability to blow smoke in the face of Prof. Tellah.
"Now, would someone would like to read their paper that followed the assignment properly?"
Cid slumped over his desk angrily, unable to do anything to vent his anger, as someone else read their cookie-cutter story of how their one role-model, some coach or their brother or something equally trite, was enough to give them the impetus they needed to get into the college of their dreams. The stories were old, and they bored Cid. He was tired of hearing about people getting influence and guidance from the older generation. The Older Generation hadn't given Cid #$^#, and he had no god#^#@ older brother to lead the way for him, no sports coach to make him "push himself". He hated those kind of stories, and he preferred it when people were able to support themselves, were able to make their way into college not because of someone else "pushing" them, but because they actually DESIRED to go there.
But no, not a single one of the stories had any of that kind of element in them. Frustrated, Cid took a pencil and tried to sketch something on the piece of paper that was under his arms, but it only took a few lines for him to erase it angrily. He wished he could draw like Vincent could, to be able to put his ideas into visible form. He envied his friend for that, just as he envied all artists. He envied how they could just envision something and have it at their fingertips. He wished he had that ability, but it seemed that his skill forever lied in the written word, not the visible line. He had tried for so long to culminate some kind of artistic ability, but it seemed just not to be.
Unable to vent himself in that way, he dug a pen out of his backpack and pulled a dark blue book from his bag. He flipped it to a blank page, bypassing several pages filled with his heavy, dark writing, and began to write, ignoring the droning voices of the people around him.
"Eiyon was surrounded as it were, trapped in a cave. He should have watched where he was going, but that wasn't the utmost concern on his mind at the moment...he was more curious as to where Lzyndr had gone, considering he hadn't seen the other male for a few days. He heard rumors that the other had gone in this direction, but he hadn't anticipated there being large holes along the way. As it was, the air around him was getting stifling, and it was beginning to get hard to breathe..."
He noted, just as he was getting into it, a silence pervading the previous all encompassing noise that had been filling his ears.
"#$^#..." He whispered under his breath, knowing what that meant. He had done this before, several times in various classes when he got bored. When he felt like writing, he vanished, entered the world that he so longed to occupy, and this meant that his awareness of the world that was around him in reality vanished. This meant he had had several unpleasant things happen to him because of this, including but not limited to having his book snatched away, having the entire class stare at him, or having the teacher yell at him after class for quite some time.
This seemed to be turning out into one of the "Hey everyone! Let's stare at the guy who's being different!" deals, and he was beginning to hate those kind of situations the most.
He turned his head upwards to find, just as he had suspected, every eye on the room on it. Deciding to make the most of it, he made an elaborate flourish on the last word in his unfinished sentence before dropping the pen back into his book, closing it with exaggeratedly delicate and flamboyant movements.
He finally put his head in his hands and stared at Prof. Tellah who did not look amused with his antics. The biting sarcasm in Cid's voice was painfully evident. "So sorry to interrupt."
"Highwind, you will speak with me after class."
Cid rolled his eyes, causing Prof. Tellah to seethe even more, turning back to the blackboard. "I would suggest taking a less flippant attitude with your studies as well."
Cid moved his hand in a mockery of Prof. Tellah talking while the old man's back was turned, mumbling under his breath. "Blah blah, watch me pull #@#$ out of my #@$, blah blah, do what I say AND what I do, blah blah..."
Prof. Tellah turned around to find the blonde teenager staring studiously at the book he had assigned on his desk, a smile playing around his lips. "I'm not deaf, Highwind, I CAN hear you."
Cid looked up at him, large blue eyes innocent as he put a hand on his chest, looking around. "Who me? I don't know what you're talkin' about."
If Cid had some friends who were goading him on, or was sitting in the back, Tellah would have moved him in an effort to prove his authority, but as it was, Cid sat in the front, hands folded on his desk as he smiled pleasantly at the Professor, which only served to anger the man more. "Your behavior WILL have repurcussions, you realize, if you even know what that word means."
Cid narrowed his eyes at the insult to his intelligence, but managed to keep his voice light. "What, you mean the fancy word for 'consequences'? Oh dearie #$^#in' me, I ruined your little high-and-mighty routine by knowin' what that word meant! Shame on me!" Cid looked mock offended at himself.
The piece of chalk Tellah had been writing with fractured against the chalkboard as he turned slowly towards Cid, who cocked his head in a show of mock innocence.
"What's wrong, Tellah? A bit piqued? Flustered?" Cid smiled again. "Deeply disapproving of my youthful insolence?" He held his hands out, taking an exaggeratedly serious tone to his voice. "He stood, fingers quivering, nostrils flaring, facial muscles longing to express the inner fury at the young man's obvious grasp of the english language, territory he claimed to be HIS VERY OWN!"
"Highwind, you will wait outside until the class ends!" Tellah pointed towards the door, and Cid stood smoothly, the pain at such sudden movement hidden perfectly as he picked up his book, pen still trapped in its pages.
"That's what I've wanted to do this entire time."
As he walked by, he felt the book being torn from his grasp and he turned instinctively to reclaim it, finding it in Tellah's hands. Cid knew better then to attempt to get it back, only glaring at the old man who stared at him, face emotionless.
"Without your book."
Cid glared at him for a while, then finally shrugged, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. "Fine. I don't need it."
He opened the door wide and walked out, letting it close behind him while he shoved his hands in his pockets. He stood in the hallway for a moment, glancing down either direction. No one seemed to be around.
He seriously considered for a moment not waiting to find out what the consequences of his actions would be, but then he shrugged and walked over to the opposite wall, sitting down and waiting. He wanted to talk to him about his paper, after all, and he might as well do it now. He doubted with a type like Tellah that waiting a few days would increase his chances of getting a better grade any.
He smiled, remembering the furious look on the old man's face as he mocked him. It was so easy to tweak people like him, and he deserved it anyway for trying to lord over Cid like that. This wasn't highschool anymore, and the teachers no longer had the authority they had back then. Cid smiled again, remembering the many arguments and problems he had caused at his old school. Not that they had authority back then either, but here the professors had even less.
Well, at least after this class he'd get to meet up with Vincent again in Hojo's class, which made him wince. That was one guy that Cid didn't want to mess with. He could tell that Hojo was serious, very serious, and he had a feeling that his attempts to ridicule or mock him would be turned around and thrown back in his face...not to mention that Hojo already had a card he could play against him, and Cid had nothing. So he didn't want to go to that class, and part of it was fear. Hojo scared him, and he didn't know why. Probably because of what he did to Vincent...
Cid clenched his fists angrily at the thought of what had happened that day...Hojo had basically #$^#ed them over with just a few guided questions, and he had even got Vincent so upset as to #$^#in' cut his own god#$#@ arm. He hated him for that, but he didn't want to face him, not yet.
Cid sighed and let his hands fall to his sides, digging into one of the many pockets on his pants as he pulled out the cup and ball toy he had taken to carrying around with him, resigning himself to a long wait as he began to play.
"I do NOT appreciate such behavior in my class." Tellah was sitting at the other side of his desk, his hands clasped seriously in front of him. He had been ranting along these lines for some time, and frankly Cid was beginning to get bored. He struggled to keep the constant sarcastic and cynical responses that kept entering his head against his control at the old man's rambling under control. If he wanted a better grade on his paper, he had at least act a little respectful. "I don't like having my authority undermined, do you hear me?"
Cid wanted to respond with "You shouldn't let me undermine it in th' first place, #@%@er." but he decided against it. He instead just nodded, trying to look passive and nonconfrontational.
"Now, I AM willing to accept a rewrite of this paper, if you decide to actually complete the assignment instead of writing stories."
Cid narrowed his eyes, but didn't say anything.
"I'll accept it tomorrow, no later. Be sure to bring it then, and be sure to follow the assignment criteria correctly."
Cid nodded, struggling to keep his eyes from rolling in response.
"And from now on, I expect much better behavior from you, you understand me?"
Cid nodded, trying to stop the bored look from appearing on his face. This guy never shut up. He must love to hear himself talk...no wonder that's why he was an english professor.
"Now, I'm considering whether or not I should even give this book back to you..." Tellah held up Cid's priceless book, which caught his attention immediately. "But I've decided that I should, provided that it never show up in my class again, or I'll confiscate it permanently."
Cid was fairly sure that Tellah couldn't inforce such a threat, but nodded anyway in mock understanding, reaching out for the book. Tellah relinquished it reluctantly, still looking displeased. He apparently hadn't expected Cid's lack of resistance after the display earlier.
Cid stood, the book being the only other thing he had wanted out of the conversation, and Tellah sighed slightly, knowing that was probably the best goodbye he'd get out of him.
"I don't want to have this conversation again."
Cid leaned back into the room for a moment, delivering one final, parting comment. "Yeah, neither do I."
When Cid entered Hojo's class later on, he headed directly for the back, noting on his way there the jester twins sitting off to one side also near the back. He didn't know Zorn and Thorn were in this class as well. He waved to them for a moment, and they stared at him in confusion, which didn't surprise him. He barely knew them, after all.
Vincent had his head on his desk, his hand and claw buried in his black hair. Cid sighed as he sat down next to him, flopping noisily.
"I hate my art class." Vincent's soft voice came from underneath his hair, and Cid sighed in response.
"Hate m'@$^@in' writin' class too. Well, that's life."
He was worried for a moment that his statement wouldn't make Vincent feel better, and decided he should probably rephrase it, but in this he was mistaken. Vincent pushed himself upwards, his eyes tired as he made eye contact with Cid for a few moments.
"Funny how our favorite things have become things we hate..."
"Nah..." Cid smirked slightly. "Jus' th' classes that 'teach' them." Cid made the quotation marks with his fingers.
Vincent pushed himself fully upright, sinking back into his chair with a deep sigh. He stared at his claw for a moment, then held it near Cid's face, his voice completely emotionless. "Does this look like an art project to you?"
Cid hissed through his teeth and winced. "Ouch. No way, they $%$@in' thought y'did that on purpose?"
Vincent nodded and sighed again, pulling his sketchbook out from his bag with slow, languid movements. Cid rolled his eyes, resting his head on his hands as he could see Hojo stepping forward, ready to begin class.
"Pretentious @#%@s."
Vincent nodded slowly as he began drawing, disappearing into his own world. Cid took this opportunity to dig his own notebook out of his bag, flipping his pen around in his fingers for a moment before continuing the broken thought he had left off on.
Hojo began to speak in the background, which Cid and Vincent were almost completely unaware of. Once or twice when Cid looked up, he could see Zorn and Thorn struggling to pay attention, but he watched as the red one gradually fell asleep, the other almost on the verge of following his twin, but managing to maintain consciousness.
"Check it out, Vin." Cid gestured with his head towards the jesters. "One of 'em's asleep."
Vincent looked for a moment, then looked somewhat worried as he looked at Hojo, who had his eyes focused on the entire crowd of students. "I hope he doesn't..."
"And who can tell me how this story ends?" Hojo gestured broadly for a moment with one of his hands. "Thorn, would you mind enlightening us?"
Cid and Vincent both collectively held their breath, knowing that the result of this would not be good.
Zorn jerked sharply at the call of his twins name, and he shook Thorn sharply, waking the red-hued jester from his slumber. Thorn blinked blearily, confused, as Zorn began to speak, his voice soft and hesitant.
"U-um...in the end of the story, she thinks he's-"
Hojo cut him off with a few sharp words, instantly silencing the blue jester. "I was speaking to Thorn."
"But he doesn't like to talk in front-"
"Thorn, would you please answer my question?"
Zorn covered his face with his hands, the bells on his hat jingling slightly as he shook his head back and forth. Thorn began flipping through the book they were supposed to be reading, desperately trying to find where they had left off. His voice was extremely soft, unable to be heard by anyone as he began stammering uncontrollably.
"Thorn, please enunciate." Hojo had the sick smile he had before when he had been tormenting Vincent, and both of the two in the background felt their hearts sink. "Tell us the answer."
Thorn continued to stammer, unable to make his voice heard, as Zorn tried to prompt him. Thorn seemed completely unable to speak in front of audiences, sinking lower into his chair, beginning to blush.
"Can't believe he's #$^@in' doin' this t'them, #$^#in' #@%hole..." Cid mumbled under his breath, Vincent slowly nodding in response.
"Thorn, would you please come here? Perhaps we could hear you better that way..."
Both of the jesters looked absolutely terrified, but Zorn managed to compose himself first, tugging on his brothers sleeve. Thorn finally slid out of his seat, and Zorn mirrored him, both of them standing awkwardly before heading down the steps.
"I believe I asked Thorn to come down..." Hojo glared at Zorn, who, for once, did not back down. He continued to follow his brother down the steps that lead to the front, shivering. Thorn was doing worse, almost unable to walk, and Zorn was there not only for the mental support, but for physical as well. Hojo sighed and rolled his eyes, but apparently gave up on trying to separate the two.
Thorn began to play with his hands, looking steadily down, still mumbling incoherently. Zorn paused, not sure of what else to do, and he finally tried to speak. "Thorn says-"
"I want to HEAR Thorn speak. I don't want you to speak FOR him." Hojo cut Zorn off viciously, who backed away, almost visibly frightened. Thorn managed to look further down if possible, his face unable to be seen. Hojo again got the sickening smile on his face, his tone back to the cajoling tone it had before.
"C'mon Thorn, tell us what you think."
Thorn began to mumble something a bit louder, Zorn next to him, whispering something to him that apparently was giving him a bit more confidence.
"Louder, Thorn, we can't hear you."
There was a pause, and then Thorn looked up, the expression on his face that of determination, but also immense pain, as the jesters thin voice grew in volume enough to be heard.
"Ending to the story focuses on..." Thorn paused for a moment, apparently gathering his resolve again. "Thinking the boy is dead the girl does...come to his aid she does...respond he does not..."
From the rest of the class came some soft laughter and whispering, too faint to be distinguished, and Vincent felt a deep rush of sadness enter his being at such torment and ridicule. How could he do this to him? Thorn had done nothing to anger Hojo, he had no right to be doing this to him...
Cid, on the other hand, just felt furious. His fists were clenched again, knuckles white, and he could feel the urge to punch something, particularly the smug smile that rested on the Professors face as Thorn struggled to continue speaking, his face turning redder and his expression changing from the determination that it had before to one of fear, of terror. Zorn touched his shoulder, whispering to him again, and Thorn turned to him for a moment, his face torn, before he finally just collapsed against his brother, clutching his shirt with his red club-emblazoned hands, hiding his face in his chest, refusing to say anything more. Zorn continued to mumble incoherent things to him, trying to shake him out of the catatonic state his brother had almost been forced into, and Vincent could see, even from his vantage point at the back of the room, the trembling force and tenacity Thorn's fingers had in grasping his brothers shirt, trying desperatly to hide himself from the gaze of the other students that was so fixated on him.
"Thank you, Thorn." Hojo's voice was satisfied, apparently having got its share of human suffering that day, and he gestured back to where the jesters had been sitting. "You can sit down now."
Zorn managed to get his brother to move, although Thorn was unresponsive, keeping his face hidden the entire time. The entire eyes of the class rested on the twins as they finally made their way back to their seats, Zorn having to detach Thorn forcibly. Thorn put his head down on his desk, shivering, and Zorn was not much better.
"How could he do that to them...? They've never done anything wrong..." Vincent whispered under his breath. Cid's voice was laden with anger and malice.
"Jus' five #$^#in' minutes with him, that's all I #$^#in' ask..."
Fortunately, the rest of the class passed without incident, the complete and total humiliation of Zorn and Thorn apparently enough for Hojo that day.
When class ended, Cid couldn't just let the twins walk off without saying something. He had to say something, anything, to show that he didn't approve of what had happened to them.
Thorn was still trembling when Zorn managed to pry him from the desk, and Cid stood somewhat awkwardly outside of their aisle, not sure as how to approach them at first.
They walked past him, eyes downward, apparently believing that he was waiting for someone else, or didn't want to talk to them.
"Highwind, what are you doing...?" He could hear Vincent's voice softly behind him, and Cid took some steps forward, following the jester twins.
"Hey, hey. Z an' T! Wait!"
Zorn and Thorn paused for a moment, exchanging glances before turning to look at Cid, who was currently trying to think of where such a stupid nickname had come from. He put his hand behind his head, trying to look non-threatening.
"Jus' want you t'know that I think what Hojo did t'you was pretty #$#%ed up..." He kept his voice low enough so that the professor could not hear. "He shouldn't've done that."
Vincent nodded behind him, and the two jesters again exchanged glances, confused. Zorn was the one who finally spoke, Thorn looking off to one side, biting the side of his hand in apparent nervousness.
"Thank you..."
Cid looked down, feeling even more awkward, not sure of what else to say. He decided to say the first thing that came to mind. "I mean, we're on your side or somethin'. If y'ever want t'hang out or somethin', jus' come t'us, right Vin?" He looked to his dark companion for confirmation, and he nodded, just as confused as the two jesters in front of him. They again exchanged glances, this time shock also working its way into the confusion.
"Thank you again..." Zorn looked somewhat uncomfortable. "We have to work...but...we'll remember what you said."
Zorn nudged his brother, who jerked and nodded twice sharply. Cid smiled at them in what he hoped was a disarming fashion. They waved goodbye and set off, and Cid and Vincent followed them, noting the looks that Hojo was shooting them. Cid shrugged.
"I think it went rather well, don't you?"
Vincent rolled his eyes and sighed. "Let's just hope the rest of the day goes smoother then this..."