(A/N: Sorry, my last sentace at the bottom of the page got cut off. I ment
to say that my goldfish of six years just died. His name was Julius Caesar,
and he died exactly one month and a day after the ides of March. ^_^;;;
On a different note, I just discovered Dragon Knights music! =D)
Kat: Wow, long review again. O.o Thank you bunches!
Ginsing1: ^o^ Thanks! ^o^ *ego begins to swell* I plan to finish, yes. It
may take me a bit, but I hope to finish this story.
Charna: Wow, thanks for all the ego stroking! ^^ And I only spell it that
way because there was some fic I read almost a year ago that pointed
out the actual spelling of their names was different than the translations.
No clue why I spell only Thats' name the alternative way instead of the
normal one. You'd think I'd do everyone else too, but no... The mind of a
Thatchel fangirl is an interesting thing.
Disclaimer: When one is no longer on the front page one knows it's time
to stop writing and start posting. I don't own Dragon Knights.
Warning: I think I need to start putting this. Swearing, minor violence,
teenagers.
***
"Watch it!" A girl's voice snapped, breaking the tense and
uncomfortable silence that had not been disrupted in several very long
and painful minutes.
"You watch it!" Thats jerked his head up from looking down at the long
table in the school cafeteria. He was holding a thin white washcloth in
one hand and a metal tray, about as long as a keyboard and half again
as wide in the other.
The teenaged boy glared at his companion, sending an stressed look
deep into her large eyes. They were as green as the grass after a long
rain, and speckled with grains of a red-brown. A final stroke of the artist's
brush had added in a dart of black, jutting off to the side of her irises in a
thin, downwards curving arch. They were narrowed back at him as she
looked at him with an expression of extreme annoyance.
"Stop hitting the table with the damn broom!" He growled as the table
was once again hit by the object in mention.
The junior welding a broom and a dustpan brushed a damp strand of hair
out of her face, sending him a highly annoyed look.
"Stop brushing crap onto the floor!"
"It's not my fault," Thats complained, slamming the tray down onto the
table, "Whoever sits here made a huge mess!"
He gestured with his rag at the table top, currently covered in bits of
melted ice cream, bread crumbs, paper napkins, and crusted rice.
"It's disgusting!" He grumbled, resuming work.
"Just stop brushing it onto the floor. There's enough junk down here
already, without you adding to it," She swept the broom under the table,
retreiving a small pile of dirt and food particles.
They both returned to working, the only sounds in the large room their
barely audiable grumbling.
"Do you know when we can go, Kitchel?" Thats asked after a short while.
"Nope," She dropped to the floor in a squat, peering around under the
tables in the cafeteria, looking half-heartedly for more places to clean.
"I forgot. What time is it?" She asked, standing up and pulling the
bottoms of her tan shorts back down.
"About," Thats squinted across the large room, attempting to read the
time on the clock on the wall, "4:20."
"Maybe half an hour more, then," Kitchel said, leaning on the broom. The
pastel green paint covering it's handle was starting to peel off, and it was
missing several chunks of straw from it's brush at the bottom.
"Man, I wanna leave this dump!" She complained, heaving a long,
melodramtic sigh.
"I've still got detention after this," Thats made a face.
"So?" She said, starting to reluctantly sweep again, "I do too, ya know."
He ignored her statment, returning his attention to the long, dirty table
streached out before him.
Neither said anything more, until...
"Watch it!" She snapped, straightening up and slamming the handle
of her broom against the table he was cleaning.
The table shook under her blow, and he glared.
"You watch it!"
...They began arguing again.
***
Rath shot a curious glance around the classroom. He'd never been
in here before, had never actually had detention before, and had never
been in this room. It was a Math classroom, judging by the textbooks
stacked on desks in the back of the class and the homework written on
the blackboard at the front of the room. He had a sneaking suspicioun
that this was where Calculus was taught. That would explain why he had
never been in here. Math wasn't exactly his strong point.
When he had entered the room for the start of his two hour
detention the classroom had been rather full. He had chosen a seat near
the back left corner, as far away from *her* as possible. Cesia had
already been there for a few minutes and was sitting in the middle of the
second row, her English book open and propped up on the desk, her face
burried behind it.
There had been two younger girls, possibly in their first year of high
school sitting in the front row off to the side, their desks pushed together
and giggling noisily. They had left approximatly an hour and a half ago.
In addition to the three females, two younger and one older, a short boy
had been in the room also. He had entered around an hour ago and left
after just twenty minutes. Rath remembered that he had chosen a desk
in the back like he had, and had at first attempted to do some sort of
homework. He seemed to be having difficulties with it, however, and the
unknown boy had quickly gotten annoyed with his constant need to
change his answers, sending eraser dust scattering all over the small
desk he was seated behind. After having to brush it off multiple times,
once even removing all of the books and papers on his desk to wipe it off
with the sleeve of his long black shirt, he gave up and put it away in his
backpack. He left soon afterwards.
As if having all these different people around wasn't bad enough, they
were being watched by his English teacher.
Lykouleon.
Mind, Lykouleon wasn't exactly paying attention to them, but every once
in a while he would look at them with that understanding smile of his.
Rath tried his hardest to not make eye contact, but it was difficult.
Their eyes would meet on occasion.
Rath turned his face back to his desk as if for a precaution.
The blonde man had blue-green eyes, the color of the ocean at rest.
Or as much at rest as it ever was, Rath ammended, seeing as how the
vast body of water never really calmed down. There was always a storm
somewhere, not to mention the strong currents that raged through it at
all times. This was, actually, now that he thought about it, a more
accurate discription of the older man's eyes than a simple calm body of
water. They held visions of secerts in azul, glimpses of the dark depths
that came with maturity even though the man didn't look as though he
could be over thirty.
'That wasn't smart, was it, Rath?' They seemed to scream.
'It's ok, though. I know you shouldn't be in trouble for it.'
Even worse, if one looked into them for too long they made you want to
spill your soul to their bearer.
They were turquoise eyes which invaided one's mind.
They relaxed your guard, slowly wore down your defenses, made you
certian that Lykouleon was a good person, one you could trust.
The dark haired boy made a low growling noise in his throat.
Well, he wasn't going to fall for that trap, no sir.
He'd fallen for it before and didn't plan to be caught the same way twice.
Just because one was able to do that, just because one was--
His angry thoughts were cut off by the sudden slamming of a door and
the enterance of two quarrling figures.
Thats walked into the room, slightly ahead of the fuming girl behind
him. He caught sight of his friend sitting in the back of the class, then
heard Kitchel make a rather unflattering comment about his geneology.
"You should talk," He scowled, walking over to the teacher hidden behind
a newspaper sitting at the desk in the front of the classroom.
"Common," He snorted, wincing as she gave the back of his leg a
powerful kick.
"Ow! What're you wearing, combat boots?" Thats complained, muttering
an indistingusable comment when she gestured at the short heeled shoe
covering her foot, eyes rolling.
He scrawled his name down on a piece of line paper attached to a
clipboard, then paused, thinking.
Kitchel kept talking as he wrote, continuing their argument from when
they left the cafteria a few minutes earlier.
"--You have got to be the stupidest boy in our grade! School, even! All
you think about is your--"
He turning around, cutting her off.
"What time is it?"
She shrugged.
"I don't know, sorry. Check the clock."
He nodded and did so, then copied down the time onto the thin blue line
next to where he had written his name.
"You want me to sign you in too?"
"Please."
As he wrote her name down on the line below his, she launched into her
rant once again.
"--Stomach. It's disgusting the amount of food you eat!"
"Hey," He protested, finishing marking them both down as present with a
last flourish of the pencil, "I'm a growing boy!"
Kitchel rolled her eyes.
"Whatever," She walked over to plop down in a desk next to Cesia and
dropped her bag onto the floor.
"See you at the Caf. tomorrow."
"Yeah," He brushed past her, adding in over his shoulder, "Unfortunatly."
She stuck her tounge out at his retreating figure and turned back to face
the front of the classroom.
"Hey, Cesia," She said, pulling a light blue Spanish workbook out of her
backpack and flipping to a page towards the beginning.
"What're you in for? You never get detention."
Her friend slowly lowered her assigned reading material, dark eyes
narrowed menicingly.
"I don't want to talk about it," She practically growled, raising the book
once again and burrying her face in it's pages.
"Ok, ok," Kitchel muttered, twirling a yellow wooden pencil between her
first two fingers out of habit, "Tou~chy."
She stopped playing with the pencil and skimmed her eyes over the set of
instructions on the page of her book.
"It can't be that bad, Ces'," She said, pushing tentativly against what her
mind had marked down as her friend's current level of emotional distress.
"I mean, I had to work in the cafeteria for the longest time. At least you
got to sit in the nice air conditioned room. 'Sides," She continued, relaxing
and not paying as close attention since she now believed to have a good
estimate of exactly how much more she'd have to do to drive her friend
over the edge.
"Whatever you did can't be as stupid as what I--"
She was startled as Cesia slammed her book down on the desk, danger
playing over every inch of her black-framed face. Eyes previously a deep
honey brown now shone with a deadly red light. A streak of fading
mahogany rushed across their surface, disappearing into the crimson
glow pulsating from their core. The embers of hell burned within them,
flickering slowly and growing with power, waiting to burst out into a
roaring rage of fire, devouring all who came near and leaving their ashes
for the dry, dead wind which would follow.
Kitchel gave a nervous grin.
"...Or not."
Thats strolled to the back of the classroom, his light brown pants
brushing together as he walked. He was wearing a plain red shirt, the
back advertising some local store in which he had bought it, and a small
logo on the front where the left breast pocket would be reading the same
thing, only in miniature. He had on pants in a dirty brown color, their soft
material extending halfway down his legs, stopping a little past his knees.
The gap of space between them and his pair of beat up gray sneakers
showed a long jagged scar in the rough shape of a cross on the front of
his left leg, neatly covering his shin. The skin around it was tanned to a
warm cinnimon. He had received the scar in a minor skateboarding
accident a few years ago, back in seventh grade. He considered it 'minor'
since it had not required any immediate medical attention, only the
attention of his friend's immergancy first aid kit and a once-white-now-
stained-red-towel to staunch the flow of blood. It had healed quickly
enough, however, leaving behind only a faint reminder of it's once
painfully obvious presense.
Thats finished crossing the space between the front of the class
and the back, and quickly chose an empty desk near his friend.
"Yo, Rath," He sat down next to said boy, letting his dirty red bag fall to
the ground.
"Watcha doing?"
Rath looked up at him, "Math homework," He gestured to the worksheet
in front of him.
"Bleh," The newcomer made a face, "Sucks for you. I did mine already.
Thought it was due today," He shrugged, unzipping his backpack and
pulling out a peanut butter sandwich.
"Want some? I bought it at the snack bar."
Rath nodded gratefully as his friend gave him half of the sweet sandwich,
his stomach reminding him that it was already five and that he hadn't
eaten since before noon that day during his lunch break.
"Are you leaving soon?" Thats asked through a sticky mouthful, digging
around in his bag with one hand and retrieving a white science folder. He
opened it's rings and removed several sheets of scribbled on folder paper
as Rath answered.
"In a few minutes."
"Man," Thats shifted through the papers, "I've gotta be here for another
hour. Tell Rune for me, will ya?"
As the other boy nodded, Thats pulled his CD played out of his backpack
and slid the headphones on, pressing play.
The steady beat of music reminded Rath.
"Did you get anything written?" He asked.
Thats shook his head, "Sorry. I'll get something by the weekend, I
swear!" He placed his right hand over his heart, lifting the left into the air.
"I just ran out of time. I'm working on it, though. I'll get something.
Doncha worry about it," He flashed a lighthearted grin to his friend, white
teeth shining in his tanned face, then leaned back in his chair, closing his
eyes and tapping his foot in time with the music pounding through the
headphones he was wearing.
Rath sighed and went back to his homework, mentally counting down the
minutes until he was out of this hellhole.
***
Lykouleon grinned to himself behind his paper. The students were
so amusing. Especially in some combinations. Briefly wondering why Thats
and Kitchel had never before had detention together under his watch, he
finished off an article about some new brand of fishing line and put the
newspaper down and folded it up. He placed it under his desk and
glanced around the classroom. Four students occupied it; three had
already left and two more had entered. Reaching for the clipboard on his
desk, he quickly scanned the names of the three who were already gone.
Hoping to high heaven that they hadn't left early(Alfeegi would find out.
He always found out. And once he did there would be hell to pay.), he
tried to remember if they were in any one of his classes. He was teaching
both a basic English class for the Freshmen and another low level English
class for some of the upperclassmen, so he got to know many of the
students at the school.
"Garfankcy," He murmered to himself.
Ah, yes. He remembered the boy. Garfankcy had been in his Freshman
class the year before; he was a Sophomore now.
Lykouleon chuckled at the memories.
He had always tried to be the tough guy, but let his mask slip at times,
showing his weakness show through his farque. The most blaringly
obvious of them was a constent need for cleanliness, but Lykouleon had
a distinct feeling that was just one of many the boy had.
Letting his eyes wander over to the other two names, he smiled as he
instantly recognized them. Shian and Miyabi and, normally but not on this
occasion, Hanakusuku. Miyabi and her sister, Hanakusuku, had met Shian
several years ago and the three had, it seemed, instantly formed a bond
of loyalty that would never be broken, no matter how much they argued
or fought. He currently had all three of them in his Freshman class, but
not all at the same time. Shian and Miyabi had very similar scheduals, but
Hanakusuku had one completely different for some arbitrary reason. The
only class in which they were all together in was orchestra, and in that
they seemed determined to be together as much as possible: They all
played the same instrument, the viola.
Lykouleon ran a hand down the side of his face, toying with a small
lock of light blonde hair for a moment, twisting it between his fingers.
He was wearing a pair of plain white pants with a light blue collared shirt
tucked into them; normal everyday wear. There was a faint swirling
design on his shirt, it's shimmery color neatly matching the small gold stud
in the bottom of his left ear.
He placed the clipboard and paper down, and leaned forward in his
chair, resting his chin on his folded hands, his arms propped up on the
desk he was seated behind.
As the students in the room went about their various activities; reading,
doing homework, sleeping, Lykouleon straightened up and pulled a stack
of essays from their hiding place under the desk he sat at. He was about
to read over the one on top when a flicker of movement from the far right
caught his eye. Curious, he looked over.
There was a window attached to the door students used to enter the
classroom, about 12 by 18 inches, with thick diamond shaped panes of
glass that created a slightly distorted vision of the outside world.
He watched as a small scene unfolded outside of it, and then, chuckling,
turned back to grading homework assignments.
***
Outside in the hallway a pretty teenaged girl sat on the floor, long
blonde hair falling in a wavy curtain about her pixie-like face. She had her
legs curled under her body, denim skirt creating navy waves around slim
calves. Two white sandles graced her feet and were matched up with a
cloud-like spagetti strap shirt. Dewdrop earrings of cream and blue were
the only jewlry she wore aside from her sapphire eyes and golden locks.
She had a notebook open in her lap, a drawing pencil in her right hand,
and was currently scetching a rough human figure.
"Excuse me."
She looked up from her work, self-conciously covering it with her hand,
being careful to not mar the paper with a dark stain of lead.
"Yes, Rune?"
The boy standing above her was one that she knew quite well; he was in
a few of her classes, and they had been friends when they were younger
and had gone to the same elementary school. He had always had light
hair on the longer side, but now it reached all the way down his back and
was secured by a hair tie into a loose ponytail that started at the nape of
his neck and extended downwards several feet.
He was slim, but not skinny: There were muscles on his lean arms and
more on the rest of his body, currently covered with a loose white t-shirt
and a pair of denim jeans.
His eyes held the clear blue of an icy mountain spring, open and
welcoming, they seemed to draw one in.
All emotions stood out strongly against those crystal clear pools, all it
took was one glance to identify them all.
Try as he might, nothing was hidden in the sky blue relm of his eyes.
It was all easily spotted, as she knew from experiance.
With a jerk, she tore her gaze away from his eyes, choosing instead a
safer spot to look at; the blank space a few inches from his face.
"Do you know if Rath and Thats have detention in here?" He asked, not
noticing as she shifted her eyes away from his.
She turned her body to the side, looking at the wooden door next to her.
"I believe so. I'm just waiting for my friends, but I think I saw them go in
there," She said, still not looking at him.
"Thanks," Rune said, shifting the weight of his backpack, then carefully
taking it off and putting it on the ground.
"Are you waiting for Cesia?" He asked, sitting down next to his bag,
directly across from her.
"Yes," She nodded, "And Kitchel."
"Oh."
There was a lull in conversation as both parties sat in uncomfortable
silence, searching for something sane to say.
Tintlett could feel his eyes flit around the empty space for lack of
anything better to do, and she felt them land on her a couple of times.
She shifted slightly. She scooted her legs further under her dark skirt,
tugging the material over her them, feeling vulnerable and uncertain for a
reason unknown to her, yet at the same time, strangely... Not.
That thought was finished weakly, she admitted to herself.
Although she had always been good at writting essays and short stories,
the words that she had previously called upon to do her bidding or to
take her on their liquid journey through ink and paper seemed to have
abandoned her. She could no more describe what she felt than she could
figure out what to say to him.
"So," She finally managed to push out from between rose tinted
lips, "What are you doing after this?"
"Going to my place with Thats and Rath," He said, "We need to practice."
"For what?" She asked, curious. She tore her gaze away from the grain of
the wood on the door and looked at him, forcing herself to stay afloat in
the light blue of his eyes.
He ran a hand up one of his arms, a nervious action that she remembered
from their earlier days. Their eye contact broke as an embarressed grin
played on his face.
"A band. It was Rath's idea, actually," Rune said, glancing at her
nerviously, uncertian what she would think of it.
"Really?" She looked genuinly interested, he was relieved to notice.
"That's neat. What do you play?"
Tempted to say lead guitar, he admitted to playing the drums.
She seemed to be relaxing now that they had found a safe topic to
discuss, and continued talking.
"Wow. What sort of music are you playing?" She probed, interest
showing in her light teal eyes.
He offered up the first thing he thought of.
"Rock. We're going to participate in that contest next week."
Tintlett gave him a small smile.
"Good luck," Tintlett said as he returned the facial gesture, slightly
uncertianly.
"I hope you win." She added in, not quite sure what was proper to say.
"Thank you," He replied, inclining his head slightly and falling silent once
again.
In the quiet pause, not as uncomfortable as earlier, but still not
exactly pleasent, Rune managed to get a better look at the girl across
from him. He knew that she was younger by two months and also a little
shorter than him; he had to incline his head slightly to make eye contact
with the azure depths in her delicate face. Large, limpid eyes were the
main attraction on her face, not that the rest of it wasn't beautiful as well.
They were a gentle shade of teal, with lighter blue flecks dancing inside of
the vast azure drops, and practically radiated a sense of kindness.
Warmth and welcome shone out of her eyes as tears would do for
others.
She had very fair skin and ears that were slightly pointed. Added to her
fair complexion and soft features, she looked almost ethereal.
Tintlett had long curling hair and had on more than one occasion been
refered to as elven, a comment she seemed to take as a complement of
the highest degree. Her curving figure was hidden beneath a long navy
skirt and a snow-white top. Both fit her perfectly, and neatly set off her
warm eyes.
Rune had known her since first grade, when they had been placed
together in the same class. He had been assigned a seat next to the
small and quiet blonde girl, near the far left of the classroom. He had,
later that first day of school at recess, and after much badgering and
prodding from his friends, given her a small white and purple flower and a
request for marriage. He remembered with a tiny grin the six year old girl
staring at him with wide and sollum blue eyes, clutching the five petaled
flower in chubby hands.
They had become best of friends during the time when most kids
considered the other gender the detested carrier of cooties, and had
remained close until they left for seperate schools in fifth grade.
Now however, they went to the same school again.
The shock of discovering her in his homeroom on his first day of
highschool as a Freshman would always be implanted in his memory.
He hadn't seen her in four years, and then there she was, like magic.
They had quickly started talking and become causal friends once more.
But this time it was different.
They were both older, they had both grown over the years in which they
hadn't seen each other.
It hadn't mattered at first; he had been casually dating one of his friends
in their year by the name of Silk. Silk was a very tall, very slim girl with
red-orange hair, constantly pulled back into a ponytail, only her short
bangs hanging free. She had eyes like the sky after a storm, and a
temper to match, although she rarely showed it. They had been going out
for about a year and he had been perfectly content to stay in the
relationship for another. However, after a rather messy situation involving
her and another boy in their grade, one of his friends, actually, a break-
up had been inevitable.
He had no intention to experiance THAT again.
The friends to lovers theory didn't work out, he had learned.
Especially when the other didn't feel the same way you did.
Stifling a depressed sigh, he slowly opened his backpack, pulling out a
stack of homework and lost himself behind the thin pages of Hamlet.
Tintlett's hand flew across the paper, lines as thin and fine as
thread from a spider darting and slowly forming a perfect human body;
not just a rough frame this time.
She was working on a project for her art class: Drawing a person.
The figure on the page was sitting crosslegged on an invisable surface,
thin hair pulled back with a few stray strands coming loose and falling into
his face as he, for it was a he, poured over a small paperback book held
in his lap.
She concentrated on her work for a long while, not speaking a word or
looking up off her page as her creation slowly took shape and became
more and more defined.
It was for this reason that she did not notice right away when the door
she was seated next to opened and a seventeen year old girl walked
out, hoisting a heavy bag onto her back.
"Hello, Cesia," She said, closing her black and white speckled
notebook with a snap and started to stand up.
"Is Kitchel done yet?"
"No," Cesia shook her head, long wavy black hair flying like a banner in
the air.
"I don't think she'll be out for a while."
"All right, then," Tintlett said, picking up her art supplies and backpack, "I
can't wait here any longer. I'm getting picked up soon. Do you want to
walk with me to the bus stop?"
"Sure," Cesia agreed, "I don't want to wait for another hour or so.
Besides, I want to get out of here before he," She expressed her distaste
of the word with a grimace, "Gets out. Come on."
She gave her friend's hand an impatient tug, indicating that they should
start moving, and took a few steps down the hall, away from the door.
Tintlett removed her hand from the other girl's grip, then followed her
down the corridor.
She paused and turned around after walking a short distance.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Rune," She called to the young man still sitting on
the ground, "Good luck with your contest!" She gave him a wave and a
small smile before continuing her trek out of the building.
Rune stayed there, perfectly still, until after she left. He had been
staring at the same spot in the book for quite a while, and let the mass of
binding and paper fall to the floor, clear blue eyes seeing nothing, heart
pounding quickly.
Then, so slowly one might not notice it's movement, a thin shading of red
wove it's way over the blushing surface of his face.
***
Well, there was supposed to be more, but I needed to do a space jump
next, and this seemed like a good place to stop. Besides, I needed to
update sometime soon. And this just seemed like a good chapter size, so
I figured, heck, why not?
***
Stroke the ego... Make it grow... You know you want to...
Click the little blue button!
to say that my goldfish of six years just died. His name was Julius Caesar,
and he died exactly one month and a day after the ides of March. ^_^;;;
On a different note, I just discovered Dragon Knights music! =D)
Kat: Wow, long review again. O.o Thank you bunches!
Ginsing1: ^o^ Thanks! ^o^ *ego begins to swell* I plan to finish, yes. It
may take me a bit, but I hope to finish this story.
Charna: Wow, thanks for all the ego stroking! ^^ And I only spell it that
way because there was some fic I read almost a year ago that pointed
out the actual spelling of their names was different than the translations.
No clue why I spell only Thats' name the alternative way instead of the
normal one. You'd think I'd do everyone else too, but no... The mind of a
Thatchel fangirl is an interesting thing.
Disclaimer: When one is no longer on the front page one knows it's time
to stop writing and start posting. I don't own Dragon Knights.
Warning: I think I need to start putting this. Swearing, minor violence,
teenagers.
***
"Watch it!" A girl's voice snapped, breaking the tense and
uncomfortable silence that had not been disrupted in several very long
and painful minutes.
"You watch it!" Thats jerked his head up from looking down at the long
table in the school cafeteria. He was holding a thin white washcloth in
one hand and a metal tray, about as long as a keyboard and half again
as wide in the other.
The teenaged boy glared at his companion, sending an stressed look
deep into her large eyes. They were as green as the grass after a long
rain, and speckled with grains of a red-brown. A final stroke of the artist's
brush had added in a dart of black, jutting off to the side of her irises in a
thin, downwards curving arch. They were narrowed back at him as she
looked at him with an expression of extreme annoyance.
"Stop hitting the table with the damn broom!" He growled as the table
was once again hit by the object in mention.
The junior welding a broom and a dustpan brushed a damp strand of hair
out of her face, sending him a highly annoyed look.
"Stop brushing crap onto the floor!"
"It's not my fault," Thats complained, slamming the tray down onto the
table, "Whoever sits here made a huge mess!"
He gestured with his rag at the table top, currently covered in bits of
melted ice cream, bread crumbs, paper napkins, and crusted rice.
"It's disgusting!" He grumbled, resuming work.
"Just stop brushing it onto the floor. There's enough junk down here
already, without you adding to it," She swept the broom under the table,
retreiving a small pile of dirt and food particles.
They both returned to working, the only sounds in the large room their
barely audiable grumbling.
"Do you know when we can go, Kitchel?" Thats asked after a short while.
"Nope," She dropped to the floor in a squat, peering around under the
tables in the cafeteria, looking half-heartedly for more places to clean.
"I forgot. What time is it?" She asked, standing up and pulling the
bottoms of her tan shorts back down.
"About," Thats squinted across the large room, attempting to read the
time on the clock on the wall, "4:20."
"Maybe half an hour more, then," Kitchel said, leaning on the broom. The
pastel green paint covering it's handle was starting to peel off, and it was
missing several chunks of straw from it's brush at the bottom.
"Man, I wanna leave this dump!" She complained, heaving a long,
melodramtic sigh.
"I've still got detention after this," Thats made a face.
"So?" She said, starting to reluctantly sweep again, "I do too, ya know."
He ignored her statment, returning his attention to the long, dirty table
streached out before him.
Neither said anything more, until...
"Watch it!" She snapped, straightening up and slamming the handle
of her broom against the table he was cleaning.
The table shook under her blow, and he glared.
"You watch it!"
...They began arguing again.
***
Rath shot a curious glance around the classroom. He'd never been
in here before, had never actually had detention before, and had never
been in this room. It was a Math classroom, judging by the textbooks
stacked on desks in the back of the class and the homework written on
the blackboard at the front of the room. He had a sneaking suspicioun
that this was where Calculus was taught. That would explain why he had
never been in here. Math wasn't exactly his strong point.
When he had entered the room for the start of his two hour
detention the classroom had been rather full. He had chosen a seat near
the back left corner, as far away from *her* as possible. Cesia had
already been there for a few minutes and was sitting in the middle of the
second row, her English book open and propped up on the desk, her face
burried behind it.
There had been two younger girls, possibly in their first year of high
school sitting in the front row off to the side, their desks pushed together
and giggling noisily. They had left approximatly an hour and a half ago.
In addition to the three females, two younger and one older, a short boy
had been in the room also. He had entered around an hour ago and left
after just twenty minutes. Rath remembered that he had chosen a desk
in the back like he had, and had at first attempted to do some sort of
homework. He seemed to be having difficulties with it, however, and the
unknown boy had quickly gotten annoyed with his constant need to
change his answers, sending eraser dust scattering all over the small
desk he was seated behind. After having to brush it off multiple times,
once even removing all of the books and papers on his desk to wipe it off
with the sleeve of his long black shirt, he gave up and put it away in his
backpack. He left soon afterwards.
As if having all these different people around wasn't bad enough, they
were being watched by his English teacher.
Lykouleon.
Mind, Lykouleon wasn't exactly paying attention to them, but every once
in a while he would look at them with that understanding smile of his.
Rath tried his hardest to not make eye contact, but it was difficult.
Their eyes would meet on occasion.
Rath turned his face back to his desk as if for a precaution.
The blonde man had blue-green eyes, the color of the ocean at rest.
Or as much at rest as it ever was, Rath ammended, seeing as how the
vast body of water never really calmed down. There was always a storm
somewhere, not to mention the strong currents that raged through it at
all times. This was, actually, now that he thought about it, a more
accurate discription of the older man's eyes than a simple calm body of
water. They held visions of secerts in azul, glimpses of the dark depths
that came with maturity even though the man didn't look as though he
could be over thirty.
'That wasn't smart, was it, Rath?' They seemed to scream.
'It's ok, though. I know you shouldn't be in trouble for it.'
Even worse, if one looked into them for too long they made you want to
spill your soul to their bearer.
They were turquoise eyes which invaided one's mind.
They relaxed your guard, slowly wore down your defenses, made you
certian that Lykouleon was a good person, one you could trust.
The dark haired boy made a low growling noise in his throat.
Well, he wasn't going to fall for that trap, no sir.
He'd fallen for it before and didn't plan to be caught the same way twice.
Just because one was able to do that, just because one was--
His angry thoughts were cut off by the sudden slamming of a door and
the enterance of two quarrling figures.
Thats walked into the room, slightly ahead of the fuming girl behind
him. He caught sight of his friend sitting in the back of the class, then
heard Kitchel make a rather unflattering comment about his geneology.
"You should talk," He scowled, walking over to the teacher hidden behind
a newspaper sitting at the desk in the front of the classroom.
"Common," He snorted, wincing as she gave the back of his leg a
powerful kick.
"Ow! What're you wearing, combat boots?" Thats complained, muttering
an indistingusable comment when she gestured at the short heeled shoe
covering her foot, eyes rolling.
He scrawled his name down on a piece of line paper attached to a
clipboard, then paused, thinking.
Kitchel kept talking as he wrote, continuing their argument from when
they left the cafteria a few minutes earlier.
"--You have got to be the stupidest boy in our grade! School, even! All
you think about is your--"
He turning around, cutting her off.
"What time is it?"
She shrugged.
"I don't know, sorry. Check the clock."
He nodded and did so, then copied down the time onto the thin blue line
next to where he had written his name.
"You want me to sign you in too?"
"Please."
As he wrote her name down on the line below his, she launched into her
rant once again.
"--Stomach. It's disgusting the amount of food you eat!"
"Hey," He protested, finishing marking them both down as present with a
last flourish of the pencil, "I'm a growing boy!"
Kitchel rolled her eyes.
"Whatever," She walked over to plop down in a desk next to Cesia and
dropped her bag onto the floor.
"See you at the Caf. tomorrow."
"Yeah," He brushed past her, adding in over his shoulder, "Unfortunatly."
She stuck her tounge out at his retreating figure and turned back to face
the front of the classroom.
"Hey, Cesia," She said, pulling a light blue Spanish workbook out of her
backpack and flipping to a page towards the beginning.
"What're you in for? You never get detention."
Her friend slowly lowered her assigned reading material, dark eyes
narrowed menicingly.
"I don't want to talk about it," She practically growled, raising the book
once again and burrying her face in it's pages.
"Ok, ok," Kitchel muttered, twirling a yellow wooden pencil between her
first two fingers out of habit, "Tou~chy."
She stopped playing with the pencil and skimmed her eyes over the set of
instructions on the page of her book.
"It can't be that bad, Ces'," She said, pushing tentativly against what her
mind had marked down as her friend's current level of emotional distress.
"I mean, I had to work in the cafeteria for the longest time. At least you
got to sit in the nice air conditioned room. 'Sides," She continued, relaxing
and not paying as close attention since she now believed to have a good
estimate of exactly how much more she'd have to do to drive her friend
over the edge.
"Whatever you did can't be as stupid as what I--"
She was startled as Cesia slammed her book down on the desk, danger
playing over every inch of her black-framed face. Eyes previously a deep
honey brown now shone with a deadly red light. A streak of fading
mahogany rushed across their surface, disappearing into the crimson
glow pulsating from their core. The embers of hell burned within them,
flickering slowly and growing with power, waiting to burst out into a
roaring rage of fire, devouring all who came near and leaving their ashes
for the dry, dead wind which would follow.
Kitchel gave a nervous grin.
"...Or not."
Thats strolled to the back of the classroom, his light brown pants
brushing together as he walked. He was wearing a plain red shirt, the
back advertising some local store in which he had bought it, and a small
logo on the front where the left breast pocket would be reading the same
thing, only in miniature. He had on pants in a dirty brown color, their soft
material extending halfway down his legs, stopping a little past his knees.
The gap of space between them and his pair of beat up gray sneakers
showed a long jagged scar in the rough shape of a cross on the front of
his left leg, neatly covering his shin. The skin around it was tanned to a
warm cinnimon. He had received the scar in a minor skateboarding
accident a few years ago, back in seventh grade. He considered it 'minor'
since it had not required any immediate medical attention, only the
attention of his friend's immergancy first aid kit and a once-white-now-
stained-red-towel to staunch the flow of blood. It had healed quickly
enough, however, leaving behind only a faint reminder of it's once
painfully obvious presense.
Thats finished crossing the space between the front of the class
and the back, and quickly chose an empty desk near his friend.
"Yo, Rath," He sat down next to said boy, letting his dirty red bag fall to
the ground.
"Watcha doing?"
Rath looked up at him, "Math homework," He gestured to the worksheet
in front of him.
"Bleh," The newcomer made a face, "Sucks for you. I did mine already.
Thought it was due today," He shrugged, unzipping his backpack and
pulling out a peanut butter sandwich.
"Want some? I bought it at the snack bar."
Rath nodded gratefully as his friend gave him half of the sweet sandwich,
his stomach reminding him that it was already five and that he hadn't
eaten since before noon that day during his lunch break.
"Are you leaving soon?" Thats asked through a sticky mouthful, digging
around in his bag with one hand and retrieving a white science folder. He
opened it's rings and removed several sheets of scribbled on folder paper
as Rath answered.
"In a few minutes."
"Man," Thats shifted through the papers, "I've gotta be here for another
hour. Tell Rune for me, will ya?"
As the other boy nodded, Thats pulled his CD played out of his backpack
and slid the headphones on, pressing play.
The steady beat of music reminded Rath.
"Did you get anything written?" He asked.
Thats shook his head, "Sorry. I'll get something by the weekend, I
swear!" He placed his right hand over his heart, lifting the left into the air.
"I just ran out of time. I'm working on it, though. I'll get something.
Doncha worry about it," He flashed a lighthearted grin to his friend, white
teeth shining in his tanned face, then leaned back in his chair, closing his
eyes and tapping his foot in time with the music pounding through the
headphones he was wearing.
Rath sighed and went back to his homework, mentally counting down the
minutes until he was out of this hellhole.
***
Lykouleon grinned to himself behind his paper. The students were
so amusing. Especially in some combinations. Briefly wondering why Thats
and Kitchel had never before had detention together under his watch, he
finished off an article about some new brand of fishing line and put the
newspaper down and folded it up. He placed it under his desk and
glanced around the classroom. Four students occupied it; three had
already left and two more had entered. Reaching for the clipboard on his
desk, he quickly scanned the names of the three who were already gone.
Hoping to high heaven that they hadn't left early(Alfeegi would find out.
He always found out. And once he did there would be hell to pay.), he
tried to remember if they were in any one of his classes. He was teaching
both a basic English class for the Freshmen and another low level English
class for some of the upperclassmen, so he got to know many of the
students at the school.
"Garfankcy," He murmered to himself.
Ah, yes. He remembered the boy. Garfankcy had been in his Freshman
class the year before; he was a Sophomore now.
Lykouleon chuckled at the memories.
He had always tried to be the tough guy, but let his mask slip at times,
showing his weakness show through his farque. The most blaringly
obvious of them was a constent need for cleanliness, but Lykouleon had
a distinct feeling that was just one of many the boy had.
Letting his eyes wander over to the other two names, he smiled as he
instantly recognized them. Shian and Miyabi and, normally but not on this
occasion, Hanakusuku. Miyabi and her sister, Hanakusuku, had met Shian
several years ago and the three had, it seemed, instantly formed a bond
of loyalty that would never be broken, no matter how much they argued
or fought. He currently had all three of them in his Freshman class, but
not all at the same time. Shian and Miyabi had very similar scheduals, but
Hanakusuku had one completely different for some arbitrary reason. The
only class in which they were all together in was orchestra, and in that
they seemed determined to be together as much as possible: They all
played the same instrument, the viola.
Lykouleon ran a hand down the side of his face, toying with a small
lock of light blonde hair for a moment, twisting it between his fingers.
He was wearing a pair of plain white pants with a light blue collared shirt
tucked into them; normal everyday wear. There was a faint swirling
design on his shirt, it's shimmery color neatly matching the small gold stud
in the bottom of his left ear.
He placed the clipboard and paper down, and leaned forward in his
chair, resting his chin on his folded hands, his arms propped up on the
desk he was seated behind.
As the students in the room went about their various activities; reading,
doing homework, sleeping, Lykouleon straightened up and pulled a stack
of essays from their hiding place under the desk he sat at. He was about
to read over the one on top when a flicker of movement from the far right
caught his eye. Curious, he looked over.
There was a window attached to the door students used to enter the
classroom, about 12 by 18 inches, with thick diamond shaped panes of
glass that created a slightly distorted vision of the outside world.
He watched as a small scene unfolded outside of it, and then, chuckling,
turned back to grading homework assignments.
***
Outside in the hallway a pretty teenaged girl sat on the floor, long
blonde hair falling in a wavy curtain about her pixie-like face. She had her
legs curled under her body, denim skirt creating navy waves around slim
calves. Two white sandles graced her feet and were matched up with a
cloud-like spagetti strap shirt. Dewdrop earrings of cream and blue were
the only jewlry she wore aside from her sapphire eyes and golden locks.
She had a notebook open in her lap, a drawing pencil in her right hand,
and was currently scetching a rough human figure.
"Excuse me."
She looked up from her work, self-conciously covering it with her hand,
being careful to not mar the paper with a dark stain of lead.
"Yes, Rune?"
The boy standing above her was one that she knew quite well; he was in
a few of her classes, and they had been friends when they were younger
and had gone to the same elementary school. He had always had light
hair on the longer side, but now it reached all the way down his back and
was secured by a hair tie into a loose ponytail that started at the nape of
his neck and extended downwards several feet.
He was slim, but not skinny: There were muscles on his lean arms and
more on the rest of his body, currently covered with a loose white t-shirt
and a pair of denim jeans.
His eyes held the clear blue of an icy mountain spring, open and
welcoming, they seemed to draw one in.
All emotions stood out strongly against those crystal clear pools, all it
took was one glance to identify them all.
Try as he might, nothing was hidden in the sky blue relm of his eyes.
It was all easily spotted, as she knew from experiance.
With a jerk, she tore her gaze away from his eyes, choosing instead a
safer spot to look at; the blank space a few inches from his face.
"Do you know if Rath and Thats have detention in here?" He asked, not
noticing as she shifted her eyes away from his.
She turned her body to the side, looking at the wooden door next to her.
"I believe so. I'm just waiting for my friends, but I think I saw them go in
there," She said, still not looking at him.
"Thanks," Rune said, shifting the weight of his backpack, then carefully
taking it off and putting it on the ground.
"Are you waiting for Cesia?" He asked, sitting down next to his bag,
directly across from her.
"Yes," She nodded, "And Kitchel."
"Oh."
There was a lull in conversation as both parties sat in uncomfortable
silence, searching for something sane to say.
Tintlett could feel his eyes flit around the empty space for lack of
anything better to do, and she felt them land on her a couple of times.
She shifted slightly. She scooted her legs further under her dark skirt,
tugging the material over her them, feeling vulnerable and uncertain for a
reason unknown to her, yet at the same time, strangely... Not.
That thought was finished weakly, she admitted to herself.
Although she had always been good at writting essays and short stories,
the words that she had previously called upon to do her bidding or to
take her on their liquid journey through ink and paper seemed to have
abandoned her. She could no more describe what she felt than she could
figure out what to say to him.
"So," She finally managed to push out from between rose tinted
lips, "What are you doing after this?"
"Going to my place with Thats and Rath," He said, "We need to practice."
"For what?" She asked, curious. She tore her gaze away from the grain of
the wood on the door and looked at him, forcing herself to stay afloat in
the light blue of his eyes.
He ran a hand up one of his arms, a nervious action that she remembered
from their earlier days. Their eye contact broke as an embarressed grin
played on his face.
"A band. It was Rath's idea, actually," Rune said, glancing at her
nerviously, uncertian what she would think of it.
"Really?" She looked genuinly interested, he was relieved to notice.
"That's neat. What do you play?"
Tempted to say lead guitar, he admitted to playing the drums.
She seemed to be relaxing now that they had found a safe topic to
discuss, and continued talking.
"Wow. What sort of music are you playing?" She probed, interest
showing in her light teal eyes.
He offered up the first thing he thought of.
"Rock. We're going to participate in that contest next week."
Tintlett gave him a small smile.
"Good luck," Tintlett said as he returned the facial gesture, slightly
uncertianly.
"I hope you win." She added in, not quite sure what was proper to say.
"Thank you," He replied, inclining his head slightly and falling silent once
again.
In the quiet pause, not as uncomfortable as earlier, but still not
exactly pleasent, Rune managed to get a better look at the girl across
from him. He knew that she was younger by two months and also a little
shorter than him; he had to incline his head slightly to make eye contact
with the azure depths in her delicate face. Large, limpid eyes were the
main attraction on her face, not that the rest of it wasn't beautiful as well.
They were a gentle shade of teal, with lighter blue flecks dancing inside of
the vast azure drops, and practically radiated a sense of kindness.
Warmth and welcome shone out of her eyes as tears would do for
others.
She had very fair skin and ears that were slightly pointed. Added to her
fair complexion and soft features, she looked almost ethereal.
Tintlett had long curling hair and had on more than one occasion been
refered to as elven, a comment she seemed to take as a complement of
the highest degree. Her curving figure was hidden beneath a long navy
skirt and a snow-white top. Both fit her perfectly, and neatly set off her
warm eyes.
Rune had known her since first grade, when they had been placed
together in the same class. He had been assigned a seat next to the
small and quiet blonde girl, near the far left of the classroom. He had,
later that first day of school at recess, and after much badgering and
prodding from his friends, given her a small white and purple flower and a
request for marriage. He remembered with a tiny grin the six year old girl
staring at him with wide and sollum blue eyes, clutching the five petaled
flower in chubby hands.
They had become best of friends during the time when most kids
considered the other gender the detested carrier of cooties, and had
remained close until they left for seperate schools in fifth grade.
Now however, they went to the same school again.
The shock of discovering her in his homeroom on his first day of
highschool as a Freshman would always be implanted in his memory.
He hadn't seen her in four years, and then there she was, like magic.
They had quickly started talking and become causal friends once more.
But this time it was different.
They were both older, they had both grown over the years in which they
hadn't seen each other.
It hadn't mattered at first; he had been casually dating one of his friends
in their year by the name of Silk. Silk was a very tall, very slim girl with
red-orange hair, constantly pulled back into a ponytail, only her short
bangs hanging free. She had eyes like the sky after a storm, and a
temper to match, although she rarely showed it. They had been going out
for about a year and he had been perfectly content to stay in the
relationship for another. However, after a rather messy situation involving
her and another boy in their grade, one of his friends, actually, a break-
up had been inevitable.
He had no intention to experiance THAT again.
The friends to lovers theory didn't work out, he had learned.
Especially when the other didn't feel the same way you did.
Stifling a depressed sigh, he slowly opened his backpack, pulling out a
stack of homework and lost himself behind the thin pages of Hamlet.
Tintlett's hand flew across the paper, lines as thin and fine as
thread from a spider darting and slowly forming a perfect human body;
not just a rough frame this time.
She was working on a project for her art class: Drawing a person.
The figure on the page was sitting crosslegged on an invisable surface,
thin hair pulled back with a few stray strands coming loose and falling into
his face as he, for it was a he, poured over a small paperback book held
in his lap.
She concentrated on her work for a long while, not speaking a word or
looking up off her page as her creation slowly took shape and became
more and more defined.
It was for this reason that she did not notice right away when the door
she was seated next to opened and a seventeen year old girl walked
out, hoisting a heavy bag onto her back.
"Hello, Cesia," She said, closing her black and white speckled
notebook with a snap and started to stand up.
"Is Kitchel done yet?"
"No," Cesia shook her head, long wavy black hair flying like a banner in
the air.
"I don't think she'll be out for a while."
"All right, then," Tintlett said, picking up her art supplies and backpack, "I
can't wait here any longer. I'm getting picked up soon. Do you want to
walk with me to the bus stop?"
"Sure," Cesia agreed, "I don't want to wait for another hour or so.
Besides, I want to get out of here before he," She expressed her distaste
of the word with a grimace, "Gets out. Come on."
She gave her friend's hand an impatient tug, indicating that they should
start moving, and took a few steps down the hall, away from the door.
Tintlett removed her hand from the other girl's grip, then followed her
down the corridor.
She paused and turned around after walking a short distance.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Rune," She called to the young man still sitting on
the ground, "Good luck with your contest!" She gave him a wave and a
small smile before continuing her trek out of the building.
Rune stayed there, perfectly still, until after she left. He had been
staring at the same spot in the book for quite a while, and let the mass of
binding and paper fall to the floor, clear blue eyes seeing nothing, heart
pounding quickly.
Then, so slowly one might not notice it's movement, a thin shading of red
wove it's way over the blushing surface of his face.
***
Well, there was supposed to be more, but I needed to do a space jump
next, and this seemed like a good place to stop. Besides, I needed to
update sometime soon. And this just seemed like a good chapter size, so
I figured, heck, why not?
***
Stroke the ego... Make it grow... You know you want to...
Click the little blue button!
