The Amaryllis Project [ Chapter Five ]
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
"You know, it's been like three hours and... are you're still unpacking?"
Iriel scratched his head as he plopped down onto the computer chair in defeat, and cryptically regarded the pile of junk. Clothes, his laptop, an old game console (how did that get there he had no idea), his toothbrush was in there somewhere, and he absolutely could not find neither his laptop cable nor his hand phone. It was crappy, this situation, perhaps even more so was the fact that he really had no idea how to go about organizing. All his life, he was the spoilt kid. He had Victoria to help him when the going got bad — like the time when the previous resident housekeeper they hired decided that she was being exploited and quit in an explosive burst of rage, and there had always been Brigitta to clear up the mess he left. Now that he was left to his own devices however... This was the type of thing he produced: a big fat utter mess.
It wasn't like they didn't provide a shelf for him to set his things up in. There were two finely made pine desk with a shelf and cabinet attached. There were two wardrobes, and there was a narrow series of cubby holes that was obviously meant to be shared. As most people would think, the doors to the wardrobe was thrown wide open, though there was scarcely anything in it. The hangers were mocking him now, swinging idly in the faint breeze coming in from the thrown open widow. Back, forth, back, forth, back—
"Uh, Iriel?" This time, the addressed turned to acknowledge whoever it was that had just introduced themselves to the new bedroom he would thus spend the rest of July in. It was... Kichirou? Yes, the taller, broader framed of the two. Iriel long took note, it was easier to tell them apart when you thought of them in comparative terms. If Katsurou was going to be pixie-like and delicate, then Kichirou would be Elvish, sturdy, steadfast and good-naturedly mischievous. It was easy to tell them apart when you got used to their presence, very very easy. "You're still unpack—HOLY CRAP! Better go keep Katsurou out—" As suddenly as he'd come, Kichirou made a mad sprint for the door, and slammed it shut in the face of his brother who had been about to enter. There was a muffled complaint from the other side of the door as Kichirou clicked the lock in place and proceeded to wedge a chair firmly under the door handle.
All the while, Iriel only blinked at him. Even as Katsurou hammered the door from the outside, shouting and shrieking and twisting the door handle. Kichirou dusted his hands as though he had accomplished a great feat. "Really, Iriel. I thought you were more organized than this. What, you want to drive my brother crazy?"
Iriel sheepishly glanced at the mess he had caused, then guiltily back at him, "I've never actually needed to do this kind of thing. And, what drive your brother crazy?" Kichirou had already begun to root through his things, throwing some onto the bunk bed, and others to the side while pausing to study one or two of them before replacing them in the far end of the mountain.
"Well, Katsurou is like someone's house mother. That's the easiest way to say it," Kichirou paused to pull up his sleeves although he was wearing a t-shirt, "He's paranoid about messiness. You've seen his... our bedroom. You know exactly what it looks like."
Iriel shook his head mildly as he stood up and got down to a crouch to sid Kichirou in the battle with the pile of assorted items he had previously unloaded onto the rug, "You mean the fact that it's extremely tidy? Or the fact that it's really organized?"
"Neither. Put this over there will you? With that pair of socks... Haven't you ever noticed how that bedroom looks like a girl's bedroom? Heck, even Naomi's bedroom isn't so neat, and she's the girliest girl I've ever seen." He muttered shortly as he sat back and considered the drastically smaller piles of stuff. "The only thing it's short of is a coat of pink paint and stencilled ponies, hearts, stars... What's this? And this black box thingy connected to it?"
"Oh, my laptop cable. You mean he wants to be a girl?" Iriel asked mildly as he set the precious cable carefully on the desk next to his laptop, and it's carrier, before settling down to stare at the pile of clothing that had been heaped into a huge pile. What was that offending neon orange knee-sock doing there? That had to be Irene's...
"No, heaven forbid! He's just obsessive-compulsive. Or, I think he is. Think you can handle hanging up your clothes? Which closet and which bed were you going to take? Window?"
"Uh, yeah. The one to the right, by the window." It was just hangers and clothing, how complicated could that get anyway. Thus, Iriel clambered up, and cautiously approached the pile of clothing. Kichirou however, simply had no patience for this unneeded caution. Standing up rapidly, he picked up several items from the sorted pile of novels, writing pads, various assorted stationery and the various CDs and arranged them on the shelves of his desk.
"Hey, which of these do you read more often? The Terry Pratchett, Douglas Adams, Christopher Moore... You read a really wide range, yeah. I'm going to set it on the table so you can do it there later. Tell me where you want it to be exactly."
Iriel glanced up briefly from his warring with the hangers and clothing, looking slightly confused, only to glance back down to what he was doing rapidly. "I pick whatever I find from the library. I don't actually like most of them, I just forget to put them back. Put the Hitchhiker's Guide somewhere I can get to it easy. And the classics, throw them in some deep cabinet so that I can't find them."
Kichirou laughed, a short appreciative chuckle. Despite this, he set the copy of "Journey To The Center of the Earth" and "Moby Dick", two very obvious classics, very firmly on the shelf right next to the nominated "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy". "That’s exactly what you’ll get. You should read classics, useful little things they are. A bit tedious, but the sense of immense satisfaction you get after wards... What the hell, Jane Austen! I know I just said classics are good but you don't look the romantic type... You should read Shakespeare if you can handle Austen."
"I don't understand any of this Shakespeare stuff. It's like another language almost. They should write it in nowadays English. I can’t put my head very many places it doesn’t like to go... And that Austen, it's Victoria's," Iriel said, sounding nonplussed, "She's always leaving things around. Now that she's pregnant, her memory's getting a little poor," Iriel studied the rapidly filling wardrobe suspiciously, "This, it's fine right?" Though it was killing him to ask, it was better he got someone's opinion on this sort of thing he did not do.
The blond glanced. "Pretty good for a beginner. And the Shakespeare, just remember it's thee before thou except after thine. And oh, a Bible. Do you want me to put it somewhere you can consult it often?"
"It can join the Classics in the deep cabinet. It's Brianna's, I'm not religious."
"Oh, consider it done." THUMP! and the remaining books vanished from view, Kichirou pushed the drawer close, and dusted his hands, eyeing the remainder of the pile, which now only consisted of stationery. "Classics and Bible, third drawer. Avoid that if you want to avoid them. Stationery in the first drawer—" he picked up the writing pads and the overflowing pencil case, and dumped them all into the stated drawer, "Whatever you want to put, second drawer. I recommend your laptop and cable. And, is that your hand phone under the desk? It's on the desk, you claim it yourself. We're almost done."
Iriel threw in the last t-shirt, and shut the wardrobe. He felt mildly guilty about the mess there was in the closet at first, but after a good look around the miraculously cleared room, he felt less guilty immediately. This was too tidy for Iriel's usual sloppiness, it did not look like somewhere Iriel Azrael would live. He needed somewhere to retain his original sense of self, and thank god there was the closet. Kichirou looked mildly pleased at the results of their combined effort, setting his hands firmly on his hips as he took a good look around the room. "I can see the rug now! Wonderful, now we can let Katsurou in."
Indeed, one could see the rug now. It wasn't a particularly pretty rug, just a big oval piece of thick woollen material that stretched from the cabinets to the bed and desks on the other side of the room. Placed against the standard industrial-feel tiling, the bright royal blue was a soothing shade. It was a simple room, with walls papered in a dull beige and a floor that's adorned by the simple wool rag rug. It was quite roomy, with its own attached bathroom even. There were two beds, set up above the ground over two desks that were quite literally attached to it. It saved a lot of precious space, though the two beds were positioned in a way that there was no space in between. That, also entailed that the occupants were either going to sleep head-to-head or vice versa. And, one had to climb a ladder to reach the bed.
It was a very satisfactory boarding facility, as Kichirou had outlined to him earlier when they had left immediately for it after the visit to Iriel's house, as they promised his mother. The modern-day facility in which they were standing in was a converted building that used to be a private boarding school. When those fell out of favour and the owner could no longer afford the upkeep, it was deserted, sold to a contractor and was left as it is since nobody could think of what to do with it. It didn't cover a very large amount of land, just enough to house, say two hundred students at any one time in its three-storey structure. Which, when compared to the boarding schools of modern times was a very small number.
When the Channings had set up the Amaryllis Project, they had bought it over and closed it down for three years to refurbish it and return it to it's former glory. It was officially used in sync with the opening of the Project, Katsurou then added, each dorm room has two occupants and around twenty to thirty students in each classroom. Since this was once a real school that operated functionally like any another high school, there were various rooms that were now converted to miscellaneous activity rooms. From what Iriel heard, there was a science lab, a music room, two libraries, one for teacher's use or references and one for general use, two computer labs or media resource centers, a student's and teacher's lounge, and a recent addition, a cafe in the gardens. Kichirou had waved his hand and added that there was supposedly a haunted chess room, but Katsurou quickly responded by saying how it wasn't proven, and that there were apple trees that actually bore fruit in the gardens during the Autumn, when the facility is used for the November Camp. Kichirou also animatedly told him about the new soccer field and sports facilities, and the cafeteria with its wonderful dinner ladies and cooks. They had made Iriel feel monumentally elated and actually look forward to this official sojourn away from home, and when they arrived, he was even happier to see it match up to his expectations. Though there was also the possibility that the prospect of just being away from home itself made him feel so much less fussy...
"Pft, about time. Iriel, your room mate's scheduled to arrive at four this evening," Katsurou called as he emerged from the corridor, Kichirou obediently wheeling the computer chair back to where it had been, "Oh, you've unpacked."
"Uh, yes." Kichirou was gesticulating wildly behind Katsurou now, and his brother wasn't noticing. Iriel however, saw him perfectly clearly. "Yes, I did," he reaffirmed Katsurou's observation as he furrowed his eyebrows and tried to make sense of Kichirou's wild sign language. The latter smacked his forehead and mouthed at him. Iriel shook his head at him. Katsurou gave him a funny look, but otherwise pretended nothing was wrong.
"Kichirou, I know you're behind this. Stop waving behind my head," he stated bluntly, without turning, instead his head slowly rotated to the left, to glance at the table. The addressed flung himself at his brother, and covered his eyes. "W—? Kichirou you blithering retard, what are you doing this time?" While Katsurou was flailing about trying to get past this human blind, Kichirou was yelling, making the havoc much worse.
"Iriel, I think you better bloody cover up that shelf, don't let any sort of list, arrangement or organized group so much be seen!" He hollered, with both his hands firmly locked over his younger brother's head. From Iriel's point of view, it looked rather much like a new way to give someone a headlock, albeit much less painfully. Katsurou however, was shouting at him as well, though the surprising fact was how clean his language actually was, considering how he was being abused. Had it been himself, Iriel was pretty sure that Kichirou wasn't going anywhere without at least having the words "bloody bastard" hanging over his head and bashed into his head at least three times. Not to mention the very handsome and flattering black eye he would feel obliged to give. Either way, Iriel was quite stuck with trying to comply or simply burst out into maniacal laughter.
Katsurou however, didn't seem to share this sophisticated idea of humour. Instead, he somehow managed to in a turn of surprising events, catch hold of Kichirou's elbow and ram him against the wall in a very painful arm lock. Now, it was Kichirou's turn to yell out louder. His language seemed more normal for a teenage male, with all the colourful words and rough struggling. The kind of words he apparently had in his immense vocabulary was astounding, especially since the character usually had the air of an athletic scholar rather than a brainless jockey. His language however, that which he was using now in particular, fitted better in the latter stereotype. Iriel blinked at the strange pair, especially when Katsurou let him go and dusted his hands in a nonplussed manner. "You two are certainly strange. One of you seems to be allergic to messiness and general disarray," he pointed at Katsurou, then moved over to point an accusing finger at Kichirou, now retreated to the desk and leaning onto it as he nursed his battered arm sulkily, "And the other one doesn't know how to do things without getting into trouble. Either midway through or somehow in the end. You two are crazy." Iriel finished, slightly incredulous, though mostly amused as he pulled out his chair and plopped onto it, straddling it and resting his chin comfortably on the back.
Katsurou smiled, in a manner that could only be described as deranged. "I have handcuffs attached to my bed, what do you think?"
Iriel's smile quickly faded. Kichirou burst out into spontaneous laughter at that. "Remember when we used to tell that to Haruka? You know, that brunette girl that stays in room two-hundred during the November camps? You'd always remind her subtely about the handcuffs attached to your bed. Her expression was..." Kichirou coughed as he lapsed into a fit of laughter and racking coughs as he choked midway through.
"Absolutely priceless." Katsurou's deranged smile faded quickly as he finished his brother's sentence, replaced by some sort of withheld amusement. "And then, whenever you saw her, you'd poke me in the ribs and announce to the entire world 'That was hours of entertainment… well, until my arms got tired, anyway'. And you are always asking me why you don't ever seem to have a girlfriend. You're obnoxious. I dare say I think she was a right old sadist to have dated you even when you kept telling her that we were somehow involved in some sick gay-incest thing."
"That's why we only lasted half a month my dear brother—I am talking about Haruka, Iriel," Kichirou assured the brunet when the former turned an incredulous expression on him, "I would never ever go out with my own brother. It's even sicker than having Michael J—"
"And you should stop insulting former stars who've lost their glory. We were kidding, of course. Though we did scar an otherwise perfectly innocent fifteen — now she'd be sixteen years old eh Kichirou? — girl. It was sort of fun, until Francesca heard of it from the girl's dormitory. She went flying and nigh lost her hair over it..." Katsurou rubbed his neck, looking a little pouty even, "'Is it true? Aiden and you are having an affair?'" Katsurou did a high-pitched and squealy, though scarily accurate, imitation of a girl's voice, "I told her very politely where to go and she realised the truth, saw through it immediately she did. Didn't she Kichirou?"
"Sure did. Never seen her little blue eyes open so wide before. She keeps going horizontal on me. Like, she'd rather believe other people than us about matters regarding ourselves. Irony behold! I can't believe I used to say I wanted to marry her when I grew up. Oh heaven help me!" Kichirou ended with a shudder that racked his entire form.
"Whose this Francesca girl?" Iriel asked, a little curious now that the shock of the initial joke that they'd sprung on him was wearing off, "A childhood friend?"
"Yeah, we grew up with her. She was really sweet and cute when she was young. Kichirou used to love her to bits," Katsurou stated with a laugh as his brother protested loudly next to him, "I remember how he proposed to her, memorable event that was. We were what, six maybe? I remember that he got grounded the same day cause he trekked mud all over Mum's favourite rug... and her Bible. I think he tore out several pages too."
"The mud stuck them to my shoe—"
"What about you then, were you proposing to little girls as well?" Iriel asked passingly, snickering a little at Kichirou's antics as a rug rat.
Upon the question, Katsurou's eyes immediately darted away, as though reliving some sort of guilty memory, "Uh..."
Kichirou coughed twice then broke out in badly-masked chuckles, "Nah. Katsurou never saw anything in Franny. Said she wasn't pretty enough, though he did like Keiren a lot."
"Keiren was like an elder sis—"
Kichirou snorted so loudly it interrupted his statement, "You were obsessed with her. Keiren by the way is our god sister. I dare say she's sort of weird though, she's always inviting those vapid friends of hers over and they'd chatter for hours and play with make-up. Oh, Iriel, you were asking about the adventures of rug rat Katsurou? That's what happened to him."
"You mean he went to invite friends over and chatter for hours while playing with make-up?"
"Of course n—"
Kichirou coughed again loudly, making Katsurou come to a frustrated break midway through his sentences. "Keiren used him as a base. He was too nice really. You know how nice he is, he got used."
Iriel went on blinking, "I'm not seeing the point here."
"Kei used Katsurou as her make-up model. Can't say whether he deserved it or not, though he didn't actually do anything to stop her. I tell you, if it doesn't threaten anybody else's life, Katsurou'll agree to almost anything. He used to even bring stray cats home even if he got scratched all over." Here he paused to draw breath while Iriel fixed his gaze interestedly on Katsurou, the subject, "I think you only stopped bringing those cats home because one of them scratched me didn't you?"
Katsurou refused to meet any of their gazes, "You needed to get stitches for that scratch Windlee gave you. And anyway, you hated them. You'd always step on their tails." He was rubbing the back of his neck all the while Iriel noticed.
"See what I mean Iriel? Katsurou's a right old sap—" There was a loud bleeping sound, one that made all three of them stare at Kichirou. Without an ounce of guilt, he looked down at the digital wristwatch he wore, the source of the annoying bleeping. "My bad, it's twelve. Time flies eh, Iriel? We've got matters to attend to." All this was said in a matter-of-fact tone, and Kichirou got up from his seat.
"Oh, right," the addressed nodded, not seeming too perturbed by their sudden and imminent depature. He was already reaching for the shelved books at this point, though with both of his eyes focused still on the two figures, it was really nobody's surprise when he knocked the entire shelf of (five) books over. Katsurou, visibly, twitched. "Oops, pardon me..." He didn't seem particularly worried about the slight disarray of books, that Katsurou. "You two had better go. Can't be late for appointments. I'll be here or around the campus if you need me."
The twins both nodded, carefully. "So... we'll get going then," Kichirou managed as he stretched his arms out with a huge yawn and slid out of the computer chair, "We'll go meet you later when we're done."
.x.
It was strange how dull and drab his life had become once the two blond twins stepped out for the moment just to go and take a good look around and possibly to go help out once or twice, maybe even tidy some documents for the Channings. With their connection to the owners and people behind these programs, neither of those options sounded particularly unlikely. This however, led to the dilemma: that dilemma, was him. Of course, it wasn't supposed to be their fault that he was bored right now, but he was selfish, and wasn't trying to stop himself from being selfish, which was the whole reason why he was sitting here anyway, sulking. Which ever way, he was stuck here, in his own room, whiling the time away with an attempted read through of Oscar Wilde's classics and also a very much appreciated rereading of his favourite Douglas Adams. Which ever way, he was forced to endure this time alone, and nobody was going to be there to help make it go faster.
He was seriously bored.
Douglas Adams was starting bore him.
Oscar Wilde... Don't talk about Oscar Wilde.
The Jane Austen book in the third drawer was starting to tempt him.
That, had to be the last straw.
"Alright, Alright!" Iriel exclaimed rather vehemently, to nobody in particular, glaring at the books that were now littered all over the desk built into the space beneath the bed. Throwing his copy of "The Portrait of Dorian Gray" back onto the pile of already messy books on the table, he got up, stretching luxuriously as he did so. With a satisfied exhale, he turned around and went lumbering over to the shoe rack. Taking a good half a minute to ease on his sneakers — he didn't bother with the laces, he gave each foot a satisfied tap on the ground with the tip of his shoes before he went over and pulled open the door. "Where of to first?" he asked himself, rhetorically as he studied the relatively empty corridors, glancing left and right down the long alley. To the right, the aisle stretched down all the way to a staircase, that in turn spiralled upwards to the roof top, or down to the second level, ground floor or basement. Iriel shook his head and glanced to the left. This time, the little square black tiles paved the way down several more dormitories before veering at a sharp ninety-degree angle to the right. Still unsatisfied with what this small glance gave him, he settled for looking up. And there it was, slightly more to the left, a signboard, plastic and metal swinging in the mild breeze coming in from the lower waist-high wall that showed an expanse of greenery and plain, with a small glimpse of skyscrapers of the next town in the far far distance.
"Library, Science lab, music room, toilets... R-something..." Unfortunately however, the sign was pretty much outdated. Probably one of the numerous signs that used to show things where they were before the refurbishment. It was old, rusted at the hinges, and the black base on which the words were written weren't the plastic he'd originally taken for granted it was. Rather, it was simply painted iron. As the rust that he'd previously failed to notice was now screaming at him, it was getting pretty obvious that this was no piece of black-dyed plastic suspended from standard indusrial type aluminium. This fact was also doubly mocking, when Iriel noticed that it was, also, obscuring the last place name as well as majority of the pointing arrows. Iriel frowned at it when he finally realised, slightly displeased by the untrustworthiness of signboard these days. It also simultaneously occurred to him that, hey, the new libraries can't have been too far away from the old library... Iriel stepped out of the doorway, checking to see that the keys were in his pocket before locking the door. Leaning against the banister, he looked down.
As Kichirou had told him, there was a specifically fenced area, surrounded by high plastic-coated wire fences in all four directions. There were white marks on the field and also several high posts that were set to lean on the far end of the field. That, was probably the soccer-slash-rugby field Kichirou had been so excited about. Next to it however was a big enclosed area, a separate building that, with its own roof and walls. It was joined, Iriel noticed as far as he could, by sheltered walkways that spanned from the second level and pavements on the first floor. Though he couldn't be exactly sure, since there was a limit to how far he could lean over the railings before he was going to succumb to the law that all men and criminals alike must obey.
Again, he sat back on his heel and glanced at the staircase to his right, giving it a long hard look. The prospect of descending those stairs down to his beloved sports arena: the field, the court, the ring... But he did really want to take a good look around the place, especially since he was sure nobody would be bringing him around when tomorrow came. Like hell he was going to submit to playing the fool, just for a game of sports that he was free to participate in at any hour of the twenty-four hours a day offered. There was nobody at the field at this time, and his pride was at stake...
Needless to say, his pride won.
Thus, the brunet went marching down the tiled pathway, passing by at least nine doors on his way to the elusive library. It was a long corridor, having so many rooms in one story, and there was very little sound and activity. Whereas his school's own corridors would be bursting full of noise, with people shouting and screaming, the odd one or two exceptionally loud lecturing of teachers there was very few places where someone could find peace. Though the main point was, that most of them being a teenage and stereotypically loud and irresponsible, nobody wanted peace. At then, neither did Iriel. He had been with the gang of loud friends: always shouting over each other's shoulders in an almost appalling manner to get themselves heard over the clamour; always laughing obnoxiously because they didn't have a care in the world, and damned the opinions of others. Noise followed their little gang of friends like a constant storm cloud, completely with loud disruptive thunder, but at that time, they actually enjoyed it. Though it was something for granted - thought it their right. Those fine days of schooling were indeed a stark difference from his current state, forced to resort to skulking in dark, quiet corridors.
To his own observation however, his brain threw back a sharp - if a little sulky - retort as he would usually do when forced into an argumentative corner. He wasn't skulking in a corridor, he was walking down it like he usually did. It wasn't that he suddenly grew a rationale in his brain, it just happened that there was nobody around to engage in conversation with, be it rousing or quiet. Also, it wasn't the least bit dark in the corridor he was trotting down, with one side being an open way to the field, with only a low wall and a painted banister to keep people from ambling off, there was plenty of light flooding through. His final point, consisted of something between how there were faint voices floating up to where he was from the lower levels of the campus, but he never actually got to finish his sentence as a door nearby clicked open, and the next thing Iriel saw consisted of a screaming mop of bright blond hair.
His first impression, was that of a shrieking hairball, a freak of nature or a freakish accident that had taken place in the science labs he had been told to exist. Then, he realised that whatever that had come barrelling into him was alive, and her screams were so loud and annoying that Iriel's ears - as used to noise as any teenager's would be - complained, though it could still decipher the otherwise incoherent white noise. "Oh-mi-god-Sen-ni-ah-keep-that-thing-away-from-ME!" The last words were stressed, very loudly stressed, but those only seemed to elicit laughter from the other occupants in the dormitory. As though in response to the abnormal amount of noise, a figure popped out b the door, stumbling and leaning heavily against the wooden frame.
"Aiya, Reisa you little idiot. It's just a cat!" She had exclaimed, laughing and laughing so hard her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and she was doubling over and wheezing to catch her breath. "Heaven's sake-Oh look at you, you've even managed to include a stranger in this. Ai ya ya Reisa..." She wiped tears from her eyes as her wild laughs gradually subsided into giggles and she managed to straighten fully, though she still leaned against the door frame. Iriel glanced at her, then at the blond hairball "Reisa", then back.
"Uh?"
Then, the mop of wild hair sniffed, and wildly let go. "Sorry," she muttered, sounding more than a little put-off. With a swipe of her hand, her blond hair was forcibly scratched into place, with the imprints of where her fingers - and their dark navy blue nail polish, with sparkles, had been clawed through. Now, with the racket over, Iriel could take a good look around. first up, the little blond cannon ball.
She was young, at most sixteen though she looked somewhere between that and fourteen. Her blond hair was a bright golden shade, like fresh distilled honey. It was mostly limp and messy, though with the numerous severe black pins set deep in her hair, near her scalp, it was clear that it only ended up in this state quite recently. Like she had been crawling under beds, over walls and up onto ceilings, Iriel thought, coming a little uncannily close to the truth. She, like a stereotypical blond, had very bright blue eyes and was rather pale as well. She, also had makeup on. Nothing too drastic, just enough to hide whatever flaws she had, but now that it was smudging it simply drew even more attention. Iriel could see the small black streaks near the corners of her eyes where her mascara had run and rubbed out of line. Her eyeshadow was losing it's brightness, and her gloss was starting to look dull. Despite this, she resumed her posture, coughing once and sniffing. "Sorry," she repeated, sounding a little more insistent than apologetic to him, "That... That... brat in there set her dratted cat on me. I don't understand why Mister Joseph allowed them to bring that dratted furball—" she spat, and Iriel looked mildly amused as she used the term he'd previously referred to her as, "—with them. I'm not going to— Oh, and by the way, I'm Reisa. Call me that." She was cocky, much more so than Iriel had ever seen a girl be. Nevertheless, it seemed that she was nice enough.
"Hey..." Iriel looked up from the blond girl Reisa and at the other girl at the door way: a brunette, with a strong chin and a pair of wide-set brown eyes, "I've seen you before. You're in class JS1-A at Ristyle High aren't you? The one who sits all the way to the left and near the back?" She sounded quite excited, but Iriel had no idea what she was trying to say.
"Yes. But who are you?" He asked bluntly, "I don't remember seeing you before."
The brunette flushed, then cleared her throat a little, she brightened, "Oh you'd never recognize any of your classmates even if they were right in front of you Iriel, you're always so caught up with your group of friends. I'm Shiroi! The... volleyball player and your classmate."
Now that she put it this way, something was starting to stir in his brain. "Shiroi... Volleyball you say?" Come to think of it, he might have seen her somewhere around. He could almost envision her on the wide concrete court where the volley ballers would hold their practices. With their signature shorts that never went below the middle of their thighs, school regulated ankle-high socks and boldly tucked out shirts, shirts that were also meant for the days with physical education, they were the bunch that most of the people watched because they were pretty amazing at what they did. And they were also watched because they were rumoured to have the best-looking few of the entire female population in his school. Looking at Shiroi though, he had to say, she wasn't one of those few. Wide-set almond eyes, bronzed skin and sun-bleached, static and lifeless shoulder-length hair, she had a wiry build like a true athlete, but otherwise was a regular girl most people didn't take a second look at. "I... think I remember you. That Utaian foreign transfer? You used to be a track member, yeah?"
She nodded eagerly, "Hey there! Never thought somebody like you would be in this program! I always sort of thought that you'd spend the whole summer at the soccer field or something... Guess you don't ah?" She smiled at him, amazingly vibrant in spite of herself, she opened her mouth, and Iriel was about to be the target for another barrage of fast words when there was a screeching yowl from inside the room, and a shout. Next thing he knew, there was a cat scratching it's way up Shiroi's jeans, Reisa ducked behind him for safety, and another girl tumbled out from the room and into the small narrow corridor which led up to the door. "Xenia! What'cha do to Windlee now, you've frightened the wits out of her."
There it was, that name again. Iriel frowned slightly as he tried to work out where he'd heard it. The other girl called Xenia pouted, as she joined them by the door, "'Ellos!" She greeted Iriel brightly, waving at him enthusiastically and blatantly ignoring Shiroi's exclamation, "I'm Xenia!" This girl looked fairly Asian, with her dark and very bouncy, very lively, and very curly hair, and uncharacteristically big eyes. Despite her weak chin, small mouth and slightly oversized nose, all of which would have been outright a good combination for someone with Asian heritage, her eyes were gold, a bright yellow that was almost like the cat's. She flipped her hair, throwing back a lock of bouncy lively curls, "I've heard from all your dulcet tones, you're that Iriel guy right? Oh, Windlee—" Iriel stared at her as she paused halfway through, switching her attention rapidly from him to the cat which had given her a pitiful yowl for attention. Reisa sniffed disdainfully from behind him, though that didn't change the fact that she had grabbed a handful of his loose t-shirt. "It's not my fault Shi!" Xenia interrupted quickly as the brunette opened her mouth to interrogate her, "It's Val's fault!"
"You mean which Val? Rinelth?" Shiroi snapped irritably as she turned to glare at the inside of the room, where, Iriel noted, another girl had just traipsed into from the attached bathroom, dressed in a towel with her dripping silver hair leaving wet puddles on the tiles. "Holy, that girl is incorrigible! The door is wide open and she—Oh... my god. Is she going to change—" Shiroi leaped from where she was standing, and skidded her way into the room on the puddles. Iriel felt his face grow uncomfortably warm . Xenia giggled.
"Ah, it's just the four of us ja? You've met Reisa," Xenia picked up the cat at this point, cradling the little tabby in her arms, "She's that blond bimbo standing behind you—"
"Oh shut up!" She snapped, albeit she sounded a little humoured, even pulling up her voice higher to make it sound ridiculous, "What's bimbo... Oh look what you've done! you're making me think!" She peeked out from behind her human shield (Iriel) and upon sighting the cat safely restrained skipped out from behind Iriel. "Really Xenia, over a decade and you still think I'm a bimbo?"
Xenia actually had the decency to wait for her to finish before answering, "Yes. Now, I'm Xenia. The brunette, you know is Shiroi. We have a last room mate, but she's... still dressing..."
There was a yell indoors, one that sounded completely unlike what Shiroi would cry, "Who's been playing scrabble?"
Xenia glanced indoors, "Are you decent? Can we invite our new found guest in?"
Iriel stammered, "U—uh, it's fine really, I was just going to the library... I'd better get going..."
Xenia insisted, while Reisa aided her friend and insistently tugged on his arm, "The library's closed. I went there earlier. Lunch break. Come on, you've met your classmate and Reisa nearly let you get clawed! How about you drop by just for a cup of tea?" She had an enthusiastic smile, though one that was almost threatening: it gave off a faint aura of "If you don't accept I'll kill you while still wearing this face". Whether or not it was the intentioned effect, it was there, and it worked. Slowly, Iriel nodded, and to his intense horror, her smile only brightened, looking even scarier. "Come on in then, I think Val's done," she beckoned, as she turned, the cat clambering up over to rest on her shoulders and fix Iriel and Reisa with a intense gaze, "Reisa, you too. Windlee's not a good enough excuse, and you've got scrabble to finish."
"I swear it's mocking me," Reisa muttered to Iriel as she dusted out her clothes, beating out the non-existant filth from the folds of her long loose top, "That cat was the only thing I've something against. And they had to bring it when I was so happy to be coming here because I'd wanted to be away from the accursed creature." She sniffed, in her seemingly usual manner with the sense of slightly hurt pride but otherwise narcissistic cockiness as she threw her head back and marched right into the door. Iriel liked to kid himself, and when he thought back, he would realize that hey, she actually narrowly missed the door frame on her way in. But at that point, he didn't spot this slight slip-up on her end, and instead with slight confusion simply steered his way into the hallway after Reisa.
Unlike his own two-sharer room, this room was much larger to accommodate the two extra bed-desk combination furniture. Whilst his room's bed-desks were aligned side by side, with the beds fitting comfortably into the eleven foot space between the confines of the room, in here, they were much more strangely aligned. There were two beds to the left, and another two to the right, leaving a walkway between them that faced a window with a similar view to his own room's. Somehow, there were still the normal commendatory pieces of furniture: two over-sized closets, a shoe rack and a collection of steel wall-mounted hooks, a vertical line of cubby holes, and - something his own room didn't have - a cabinet. It had the same industrial white-tiled floor, whitewashed walls and amazingly clear glass windows with its flimsy pale curtains, the odd collection of furniture in the room were all pine, and there was also a large quadrilateral rug on the plain white floor of the room. This rug, was a cheery light green, a comforting shade that helped to lighten the atmosphere of the otherwise cramped room dramatically and brought some much needed colour into the stark, dull and colourless confines of the four walls. There was no signs of mess: it was tidy, all the shoes were neatly aligned, the desks were cleared and the two shelves accordingly filled as their owners wished. The windows, Iriel noted were also pushed open to allow a much needed breath of air to breeze in and fill the otherwise musty and unused room. The bright sunshine of summer also angled into the room, illuminating the place without the need of artificial fluorescent lights. It was cheerful, comfortable: Iriel was lulled into a sense of peaceful security, even if this place was a dramatically washed-out setting.
Of course, all this was what Iriel could tell from his first impression which quickly ended when he was forced to - out of his own decency - turn rapidly and stop looking in the direction of the window. "Oh sugar snaps," he could hear Xenia's animated voice exclaim frivolously with slight frustration, "Val! Why art thou so fashionably dressed in a towel? Dost thee not possess any decency, nor clothes that doth not seek so much attention?" The way she slipped into strange Shakespearean accent in "Old English" was hilarious, the fact that she spoke in a manner she seemed to assume to be wise and sagely did not help matters. In spite of his embarrassed state, Iriel snickered.
"Canst thou not stop ruining the glory of all that Shakespeare in his nobility brought upon thy world?" There snappish and far more relaxed reply came. She sounded more fluent, though Iriel could never be sure, with his lack of any prior knowledge of this sort of speech. There was a sound of a towel going 'flump' as it was discarded, and the sound of someone dressing. Iriel tried to keep his mind as blank as he possibly could, pretending that he didn't notice the pictures that his inner mind was showing him, while ignoring the very obvious fact that there was someone of the opposite gender changing directly behind him. "Oh heavens above, can thou not be as thou art is now? Prudish and unversed like an untaught French boy of the eighteenth century? Hast thou missed out on thy education?" Now they were directed at him, those words in archaic grammar that he had skipped Shakespearean Literature to avoid. With more effort than necessary, he shook his head stupendously 'no'. There was a small, if mildly exasperated, 'hmph' in reply. "You can turn around now you now. I'm done," she said this time, and Iriel cautiously turned, relieved at the absence of any more archaic grammar.
She had curly silver hair, obviously dyed hair, but silver nonetheless, framing her head like a frizzy halo against the bright light of the summery sunshine. Shiny green eyes that looked surrealistic, and a very busty, wide-hipped build. She was obviously the eldest amongst them all, himself included, though with the cheerful immature way she was smiling, it was hard to tell if she was simply a bit mature-looking for her age. She had a scrabble board in her hands, cradles close to her stomach, and had just directed her eyes down to scrutinize at it. Shaking her head midway through, she pulled a pair of thin half-framed reading glasses from her jeans pocket and slipped them on before she frowned at the board. "What's this supposed to be, those tiles with the gold star stickers on them are Xenia's aren't they?" She asked, still frowning.
Iriel blinked, and Xenia waved her arms in the air. "Yup, anything wrong with them?"
"What is that word? The one you pieced together here, next to Reisa's pink-heart-stickered ones?"
Xenia skipped over, her hair moving as animatedly as her lively, lithe form. She peered at the board next to the silver-haired woman with a pensive expression, before her face cleared up rapidly. "Oh, that. It's a porcupine with deformed spikes that look like spoons!" She announced, looking a tad proud of herself.
"A... sporkupine?" She twisted her lips to the side, looking reproachful and apprehensive at the same time, "Xenia, you're hopeless!" Reisa snickered from her corner as she twisted her hair up into a neat bun, but otherwise made no remarks about Xenia's hopelessly hypocritical remarks. Shiroi however, sensibly went over to the eldest and eased the Scrabble board into her own arms before setting them down on the rug-covered area of floor decisively.
"No need for hypocrisy everybody, shall we get on with the game? And Xenia are you never going to get Iriel that cup of tea you promised him?" Tucking her own crinkly hair behind her ears, Shiroi upended the board, scattering the pieces all over the floor and setting the newly-swabbed board on her lap while she collected the disarrayed pieces. Iriel had to stop himself from flinching at this action, one that he found a horrible dislike for. Girls, he had always thought should be demure, careful and... feminine. Shiroi was bold, brazen and careless, almost haphazard like a whirlwind on her own: Iriel quickly realised why he never paid much attention to her. She was friendly character, with a lovely disposition and decent appearances, but Iriel was rapidly turned away by her brash personality and all the little details that she possessed which just simply did not fit into the mould he set out to match against the day-to-day females. He was a choosy with the people he wanted to be associated with, it wasn't a particularly good habit, but he was what he was. Shiroi was popular in her own circle of friends, in her own world, but Iriel would be holding her at arm's length until she fitted his own tastes. She was a girl, she should act like one he had decided when he saw her. In spite of it, Iriel moved over and took a seat opposite her, picking up a tile and handing it over before settling down cross-legged on the soft green rug. "Thanks," she offered him as she tossed it into the velvet cloth bag with the rest.
"Ah, yes. Tea Iriel? Or would you like something else? The cooler here has... sugar snaps Reisa! you brought your whole jelly bean collection here did you? And taffies, and marshmallows, and Guide's cookies— It's like you brought an empire with you."
There was a long pause, where Shiroi's lip twitched, Val took a seat in a rough oval next to her, and Iriel blinked and twisted around to take a look. Xenia had her head stuck in the cabinet, her arms still firmly wrapped around the tabby. Reisa... was nowhere in sight. The loud disdainful sound that came from the bathroom however was enough of an indicator. Xenia shrugged.
"She can't help herself, oh and we appear to not have any tea, would you perhaps like Windlee instead?" She offered brightly, holding out the cat to him. Iriel stared at the proferred feline, who gave him a disdainful look with its beautiful marble like eyes, as gold as Xenia's. unsure how he was supposed to decline gracefully, he decided his reply with a small, strained nod. Pleased, Xenia settled down on the green space next to him and carefully dropped the cat into his lap. "Windlee has had her nails clipped this month, she won't be scratching," she assured him, as the cat padded its way around his lap like she belonged there, before settling down with all the time in the world, languidly flicking its tail at him.
"It's a she?" Iriel asked half-heartedly, taking his eyes off the fuzzy lump of well-groomed, brown-and-black fur.
Xenia grinned at him with a series of eager nods, "Windlee is female. And a right old sap, like her previous owner." She chuckled a little at her own statement though Iriel couldn't see the joke in it, and looked back at Shiroi with an anticipating expression. "Oh Val! How could you let Shi get hold of the Scrabble set! She takes forever to set it up!"
The silver-haired woman shrugged at Xenia's whine, before she noticed Iriel as though for the first time. "Oh, sorry. You look confused. I'm Valkyrie Rinelth, just Val if you'd please. I didn't catch your name though." Her tone was boringly formal when it came down to this sort of introductions, Iriel thought, as she gave him an expectant look. Her conversational style was odd, being fast-paced, how she barely paused and how she would speak louder than what he was usually used to. Nevertheless, it took him some time to realize that she was actually asked for his name, though not long enough for her to prompt him again. Feeling a little snubbed by her strange way of asking, he introduced himself rapidly.
"Iriel. Just Iriel."
"And 'Just Iriel' has taken sides," the addressed glanced back, to be met with the sight of Reisa with her newly reapplied makeup and tidied hair, "I had so much faith in you too. You dissapointed me Iriel!" And she, in spite of her apparent disappointment, was completely happy to take a seat next to him and Xenia. "No more sporkupines this time Xenia, we'll all be watching the kind of estranged mutants you pull up, if it's too weird, we'll know."
The brunette looked affronted, "You're not doing justice to the platypus community!"
"They deserve it, now shut up before Iriel decides your IQ is the same as your shoe size. Shiroi, get over it and start the damned game."
.xxx.
Labels: T.A.P.
about one xREDballoon
about meIt was the username that was adopted either in late August or early September of 2009. It was the combined effect of too many games on Orisinal (especially High Delivery) and also her long-time love for how the large red carnival balloons when they fly away.
about meFinalized as a digital signature only in November of the same year, it has since been used everywhere: her previous Gaia account, her account on bubbl.us, and of course every recent endeavor on web and graphic design. It was an aim of hers to use it as something of a brand. From her sketches to simple blog layouts, one xREDballoon presents is her favourite signature as of now.
about meone xREDballoon is the internet handle of a girl, born on a wet day in the early morning of late February. Although astrologically she is a Pisces, she displays many of the Aquarian traits, possibly as a result of being born near the time. She likes the concept of beauty in its most primitive classical form, ruffles layered upon each other generously for flounce or decor, detailed black lace be it crochet or woven, a whole palette of colours from turquoise to grey. She is charmed by the way an old well-read book smells on a wet rainy day, and the way the pages feel, all crinkly and wise under her fingers as she turns the page. She loves the inviting appeal of a blank notebook, and a good gel-ink pen in the colour of the sky.
about meLearn more about her in her personal blog.
about And Then She Fell
about meAndthenshe-fell@blogspot was named as such in October 09, on a whim and on a wish to match the layout that time. And Then She Fell was a lot of things back then: a roleplay layout (in bbcode), a roleplay idea (which was never developed) and also the words emblazoned in huge Ruritania upon an image which showed a falling girl. That was the beginnings of this writing blog as the all-new concept of And Then She Fell.
about meFrom the start, And Then She Fell has always been a semi-personal blog. While visitors are not unwelcomed, no particular effort is put into censoring the content or to sound polite. Just as well that the blog touches on intangible unimportant things, for if it were to talk of life and its nuances, things would sour quickly and it would become a blog of cynical views and criticism.
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