|
|
Post by castor endymion ghirlandaio on Jan 23, 2012 15:33:47 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #343434; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #af9390 solid; border-bottom: 10px #af9390 solid;] repair your broken wings ( WORDS ) 442 ( TAGGED ) ALICE ( STATUS ) COMPLETE Ugh, what to do… times like these Castor just wished he could grab a plane and fly back to Italy, forget about this freakin’ student façade and continue with his life as it was before. But no… his father gave him precise instructions and as the good son he was, he was supposed to follow them. Castor knew his father just wanted him as far away as possible, but he’d cross that bridge when he got to it. Meanwhile he would play the good son and good student game until he found a way to get rid of everything here and fly back home.
People who knew Castor would classify him as a very nice guy. He chatted, he laughed, he was even popular among his classmates. Only those from his other circle of friends knew how he really was: with a short temper, easily annoyed and with flea sized patience. He was caustic, and god have mercy of your soul if you dared to imply you were better than him because Castor would make it his personal goal to prove it otherwise while stomping you on the ground and spitting on your grave. Yeah… he wasn’t a nice person but if there was one thing he was good at was faking he was actually nice.
He couldn’t fake all day long though, it was tiresome and boring; so he used every chance he had to hide in some secluded place to just sit and grumble about the world in general. It was precisely what brought him to the empty auditorium today. The rest of his class was off doing something he didn’t even want to pretend he was interested in participating and so he excused himself by saying he had to settle some things regarding his passport which was of course a filthy lie.
Castor’s feet were sprawled on top of the row in front of him as he occupied the second row. His blazer and school bag had been unceremoniously thrown on top of the empty stage while he sat with an open book on his lap. He started reading a hundred years of solitude, the Spanish edition, for the seventh time but couldn’t find the drive to read anymore. Instead he sighed loudly, very bored, very pissed and feeling very anti-social. It didn’t help when the noise of the auditorium’s doors being pushed open interrupted him. No one was supposed to be there, he checked the records and it was supposed to be free until mid afternoon. “This place is occupied, go somewhere else.” He said, loudly and clearly so whoever interrupted his Castor time would get the message.
i hope this is ok 83 |
|
|
|
|
Post by alice on Jan 23, 2012 18:36:47 GMT -5
 Alice had enjoyed her time so far in Paris, the people we're many yet they always seemed to keep to themselves, they were all like her. She walked the halls of the school with her satchel strapped across her chest and her drum sticks rubbing across her side as she walked, shoving her earbuds in her ears. Alice had missed her drum class earlier this morning, and felt like an hour or so in the auditorium would do her well. Turning the corner she found herself face to face with the auditorium.
Letting herself in and yanking the music from her ears, noticing the presence of another person. Once she heard the man's happy reply to her arrival she felt herself feel more at home than ever Turning her nose up again slightly she looked in his general direction. "This is a auditorium, not a bathroom, cabrón," she said being her stereotypical self using Spanish to express her frustrations.
Taking her time to walk down the isles she placed her earbud in her ears again. Stopping near the man she noticed what he was reading her cheeks growing hot once she noticed him reading Spanish. Oh well, she shrugged and then continued walking until she found herself a few chairs and a row away from him. Pausing her mp3 player she rolled the chords around the player and tucked it in a pocket in her bag.
Emptying her bag she looked at what it contained, grabbing her sticks she drummed softly on her leg, trying not to disturb the man beside her. Closing her eyes she let the drum sticks dance across the tops of her legs. |
|
|
|
Post by castor endymion ghirlandaio on Jan 26, 2012 14:43:58 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #343434; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #af9390 solid; border-bottom: 10px #af9390 solid;] repair your broken wings ( WORDS ) 333 ( TAGGED ) ALICE ( STATUS ) COMPLETE Castor wasn’t sure if people pissed him off on purpose or they just couldn’t help it. His therapist once hinted at the fact that the one with the problem what him and not the rest of the world, which of coursed earned him a bullet in the forehead. It had been extreme, useless, messy, and Castor still couldn’t find himself regretting it.
This was a good example! Castor was just sitting here, wishing for solitude and what was the first thing that happened? He was interrupted and insulted on top of things. Not even bothering to narrow his eyes he closed the book and placed it on his lap, bringing his feet down and sitting in a lot more proper way. “If you’re going to insult people, at least make sure they don’t speak the same language as you, amiga.” The last word dripped sarcasm and the only thing that could’ve made it more obvious would be a sneer that Castor didn’t feel like adding.
Why did humanity in general bothered him so much? It was almost like he was just not designed to live among other sentient beings. Castor was here because he was forced to, and not only that, he was forced to do a lot of things he didn’t exactly want to do. Sighing he remembered another of those things: being nice. He was supposed to be nice. Everyone who was a writing major knew that he was a nice person and saw him as someone that was good natured, albeit a little stuck up. He couldn’t ruin that reputation just for a random girl that happened to come and disturb his inner peace. Taking a deep breath, Castor managed to put the ‘decent’ face back on as he stood up and walked back down to the stage, hopping on the higher ground and sitting on the edge. “Evading people as well? Or it’s just me who does that?” There, some decent conversation that wouldn’t put him in trouble… hopefully.
-rolls around- |
|
|
|
|
Post by alice on Feb 1, 2012 18:58:51 GMT -5
Alice turned around once she heard the boy speak, returning his sarcastic remark with a wide smile, "If I didn't want you hear me I would have whispered," Alice said then making her voice quiet down to a whisper and said the chinese word for friend. Winking at him she turned around trying to brush him off when his voice filled her ears again. "I'm not doing a very good job of it am I?" Alice laughed and smiled at the boy. She watched him as he read his book, "Spanish literature? You don't seem like the type."
Alice turned her body to better face the man, trying to place him, where would he be in this academy? He seemed too uptight to be in the same crowd as her, she had never been the type to read in her spare time, and definitely not Spanish literature at that, maybe a short folk tale, but that was completely different. Inspecting the cover of his book she smiled, her grandmother always had her nose in books similar to these, although they lived in China and spoke Chinese, she still wanted Alice to be able to speak with her parents or siblings if they were ever to meet. A smile spread across her face as she looked at the book. She then quickly looked down and erased the smile from her face.
"Are you a writing student?" She then guessed thinking of the major she would be least likely to take, that would definitely have to be any sort of English class offered by the school.
|
|
|
|
Post by castor endymion ghirlandaio on Feb 10, 2012 13:16:50 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #343434; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #af9390 solid; border-bottom: 10px #af9390 solid;] repair your broken wings ( WORDS ) 466 ( TAGGED ) ALICE ( STATUS ) COMPLETE ‘Be nice, be nice, be nice…’ the mantra was being repeated constantly in Castor’s head as he neatly placed the book inside his back. He had been doing that a lot recently, repeating stuff in his head I mean. After the school attack Castor found himself very short in the patience department, his little OCD tendencies taking the toll. He had been picking up new little and annoying habits every passing day as waited for his father’s order to head back to Italy. Castor was beginning to have the feeling such order wouldn’t come any time soon and instead he was left here to deal with the life he had managed to construct in a few months.
Smirking slightly Castor didn’t lift his gaze when the girl in front of him spoke. He even got the tiny bit of Chinese but merely chuckled at it. She didn’t need to know he was fluent in that too in case future insults were thrown at his way.
“It was the first thing I could find.” He shrugged, referring to the Spanish literature. It wasn’t his type of literature indeed. If anything, Castor was a lot more prone to read poetry but like hell he’d let anyone alive outside the writing majors know that. “You don’t seem the type to speak Chinese either but then again, who am I to decide who’s what type?” His lopsided smile showed certain amusement. Well at least he wasn’t bored anymore. He was still slightly pissed off but that feeling would probably accompany him for the rest of his life. Someone like Castor was just not designed to be entirely happy.
“Writing student indeed~” He said with a little chant, acknowledging her guess. It wasn’t too hard to guess though. He didn’t have the body type of a dancer and he wasn’t carrying around a camera glued to his hands so that narrowed the options considerably. “I guess we do look as stuck up as they say.” He smirked for a moment before dropping the face and returned to rummage through his bag, looking for something else to read. “Let me guess now… no camera, no dreamy princess look, no dancing shoes and there’s also that thing you were doing with the sticks…. Music, drummer.” He stated simply, again not thinking it was too much of a feat to guess what she was studying. “I’m Castor.” He introduced himself, his mind a lot less in that ‘I want to burn the world’ zone now that he started talking to the girl. She definitely didn’t seem like the type of person he’d relate to but then again, she knew more than a single language and in his book that upgraded her from ‘mindless baboon’ (where 99% of the humanity was) to ‘worth his time’.
i'm so sorry! castor can be so horrible sometimes >.< |
|
|
|
|
Post by alice on Feb 24, 2012 22:14:59 GMT -5
Alice smiled and turned slightly more towards Castor, "you might have a promising job as an investigator instead of a judge, Castor." Her lips parted into a smiled after she said his name. She then continued, "I grew up in China." Impressed that he wasn't like everyone else when she spoke Chinese, who thought she was making up random sounds, no it's an actual language, people could be so ignorant at times. She then smiled with a slight chuckle, "So, you're Castor, nah, you're not as stuck up as they say. I always imagined you... as... hmm... less... bitchy." She winked, meaning the word in the least offensive way possible. "I meant for that to be nicer than it came out, but no one has ever accused be of being nice," another wide smiled crossed her face as she tucked her drum stick into her bag, "I'm Alice." She finally decided to let him know her name, half way hoping that he had never heard of her. She had tried to lay low, but word seemed to travel fast in the little town of Paris. And she had kind of built up a reputation for being an club enthusiast. Alice tried to retrace her memory of Spanish literature, and she could not remember if she had read the book in his hands. She moved her bag to the seat closer to Castor and spoke again, "what is your book about?" |
|
