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- Rank: Chosen One
- Total Posts: 8156
@whalekeeper oh goodness XXD
- Rank: Knight in Shining Armor
- Total Posts: 375
@freedomwriter76 @whalekeeper Kate and Brian are coming for Seb…
bad boy, bad boy, whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do when they come for you?
Pff he’ll be fiiine
He’s not even mildly concerned for his safety right now
“Everything is a mountain”
- Rank: Knight in Shining Armor
- Total Posts: 375
I’m mildly concerned for his mental health right now
- Rank: Chosen One
- Total Posts: 8156
@calyhuge lol
- Rank: Knight in Shining Armor
- Total Posts: 375
“The boy made no indication that he had heard, but instead grabbed his pillow and stuck his face into it.
A faint, high scream sounded.
“Hey,” Marcel grunted, pulling at the boy’s arm. “Don’t do that. It’s a sign of insanity.”
Seb’s eyes smiled over the hem of the pillow. “So you say, cherub. Do not question my coping methods.””
I rest my case
@calyhuge @whalekeeper I am however worried about MY baby XD XD this oughta be interesting…
Paxton
Paxton continued to wait near the bathroom door, unable to keep from shivering as he clutched Hope tighter.
Seb and Marcel were discussing ordering pizza now, not seeming to notice the poor lad’s plight as he stood, frozen.
No matter how much he wished to, he just…couldn’t will himself to move. Something deep inside held him firm in place, and he just knew, if he stepped out on his own accord, something terrible would happen.
But truthfully? He was exhausted. The heat of the shower had sucked him dry, and he wanted nothing more then to cuddle into a ball on his bed, holding Hope against himself and breathing in her wonderful smells.
To block out the world…just for a moment…if at all possible.
He stared at the floor, rubbing his now cold toes into the carpet, still wet hair making a chill run down his spine.
Marcel glanced at him. “You just gonna stand there?”
Paxton didn’t meet his eyes, but he looked up slightly. Seb pursed his lips, rolling his eyes and shrugging.
“Perhaps he’s allowing himself to air dry.”
my poor baby…so I try to write with consideration as to what Paxton would actually do, based on everything he’s gone through.
Everyone views and takes things different even tho another person never meant it like that, and so even tho Seb didn’t meant it, in the last RP, when he told Paxton to stay where he was so he could go in the bathroom, Paxton’s mind placed that as an “Order.”
Which he’s used to receiving from his family.
So now, until he gets another one, he doesn’t want to move and risk…well…being punished.
Just to explain a bit of Paxton’s mindset. Mindset is different from person to person and some things are completely innocent for some but are super impactful for others
#IfMarcelDiesIRiot
#ProtectMarcel
#ProtectSebMarcel
“Perhaps he’s allowing himself to air dry.”
Marcel chuckled softly, threw his magazine onto the foot of his bed, and stood up to look the Icarus boy over.
His roommate’s mouth was snapped shut, and water from his hair, which hadn’t been completely dried, dripped off his neck and chin, as if he were made of melting watercolors. In addition, he was shivering from head to toe.
Probably all worn out from the action-packed day.
But he still didn’t move.
With the family he had, and all those instances that indicated a traumatic experience… he probably never moved. Ever.
In that, Marcel could sympathize, kind of.
He could still remember with startling colors and shadows, the night he had woken up sobbing, scraping the skin off his own waist and hips, trying to gouge out the white fire – and the song of diamond fingernails ripping apart feathers with soothing words. His hair had stuck to his forehead with sweat, and he had remained in a fever, even after Calvin had given him some measure of relief. He had almost attacked the boy with a flurry of burning Guardian eyes.
A hallucination. It had been an initial, animalistic response.
It was the scariest night of his life, but he had never gone through another. Afterwards he could not even remember his passionate fear, no matter how much his friends interrogated him. He could only recall the last flames of heat before he woke up from the dream.
Paxton seemed to have a similar haunted confusion about him – as if he lived within a different system of reality, and was trying to recall a separate one. But couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried.
He also looked ready to fall over.
Marcel grabbed a yellow and red patched quilt off his bed, and wrapped it around the smaller boy’s shoulders.
He softly rubbed at the boy’s hair with a towel, until it stuck out like airy bits of cotton. He wasn’t sure if he was invading the boy’s privacy or not – was he used to people taking care of his hair for him? – but he figured no one usually took care of Paxton anyway. Might as well start now.
Paxton still didn’t move, but from what Marcel could see of his face, he was shifting from fear to utter exhaustion. His eyes drooped, until his entire head fell to rest on his chest.
Marcel then made a nest of blankets and pillows on his bed, and fluffed an extra large towel over it so nothing would get damp, before guiding Paxton into it.
Sebastian, understanding, plopped off his bed and out the door. “I’m going to get some pizza. You think he wants cheese or pepperoni?”
“Cheese, but don’t load it. That’ll make him nauseous, and who knows, he seems like a lactose intolerant sort of kid.”
“Sweet. Give me five minutes.”
Marcel turned the lights down to a buttery orange, adjusted the temperature on the thermostat, sat down next to Paxton, and flipped open his magazine again.
“Everything is a mountain”
@whalekeeper AWWW 😭 ur boys are so sweet and cute when u get past their eccentricities (which I love XD)
Paxton
Though Marcel’s original invading of his personal space had set him on edge- causing a sudden, instinctual desire to flee well up inside-Paxton had to admit the sudden warmth he was wrapped in afterwards was worth the paranoia.
At first, he’d thought perhaps he’d done something wrong…that the boy was disappointed or angered that he’d dripped water their carpeted floor. Or perhaps was amused at the sight of him and wanted to take advantage.
It wouldn’t have been the first time by any means.
He’d braced himself for whatever blow, remark or otherwise negative reaction he’d receive, only to be suddenly enveloped in a large, oversized quilt, like a baby being swaddled. Marcel then began drying his hair with a towel.
He shivered for a second, feeling as though he were back home, bathed and watched by nannies, or worse-his mother…
But…when nothing bad happened, he couldn’t shake the sudden exhaustion that overwhelmed him, along with the small sense of…comfort.
In truth, Marcel wasn’t being rough, like Paxton thought he’d be, but seemed to consider him with care and respect.
Paxton’s eyes drooped, a feeling of belonging…of safety and warmth wrapping its arms around him and encasing him, until his chin lolled against his chest.
He could hear his roommates muffled discussions about pizza as he was slowly led to his bed, cuddling into the soft sheets and blankets, Hope tucked right into his chest, but he paid them little to no mind.
His mind said he should’ve reacted more. Should’ve fought harder to stay awake.
He’d always hated feeling helpless…and this time wasn’t any different. Was it?
It was just like all the other times his mother sung those…eery, mind-warping lullabies that lulled him to sleep, against his will.
Or those times when he’d find himself feeling weary and drowsy after having eaten…or drinking…
It was just the same…
Except…
He didn’t feel the way he did those other times…
Anxious. Afraid. Hurt. Alone.
Instead he felt…
Safe.
#IfMarcelDiesIRiot
#ProtectMarcel
#ProtectSebThere we go <3<3
MarcelIn a few minutes, just as he had said he would, Sebastian returned, carrying a large box. He looked like one of those popcorn venders in a stadium. On top of the box, delicately balanced, was cup of creamy hot chocolate, steaming up into his face.
Marcel, meanwhile, had gone into a meditative state. Golden wisps curled around his body, and he levitated only an inch off the bedspread, turquoise eyes in glowing slits.
Sebastian put the hot chocolate onto the bedside table, grabbing a piece of pizza and wiggling it under Marcel’s nose. “History class soon, cherub.”
Marcel peeked an all-powerful heavenly eye open, and shooed Seb away.
Paxton was breathing slowly now – with a bit of a snore, like a kitten mewling – and had long since fallen asleep. The most peaceful Marcel had seen him all day.
Good.
Seb was still talking, mouth full. “…If we don’t go, we’ll be assigned detention in a blink – which does sound frightfully alluring… But I’d rather choose my own girl than be forced on a blind date, eh?”
The dance came rushing back to Marcel’s mind. He fell back to the bed and grabbed his backpack and a pizza slice. For some reason, the box was already half empty. “You don’t seem like the romantic type.”
“Oh, I’m sure. No girl’s good enough for me yet.”
They headed out the door, and closed it quietly behind them. Hopefully Paxton wouldn’t need someone soon after waking, because neither Marcel or Seb had all-day passes.
Then they headed on, both secretly planning to fill their thermoses with hot chocolate.
“Everything is a mountain”
- Rank: Knight in Shining Armor
- Total Posts: 375
Brianaro
Brian knocked on the dorm door with a knuckle, listening for a response to the muffled taps he made. Nothing.
The dragon boy – Tech, as Brian had learned during the journey there – stood by. “History is soon… don’t you think we should get going?”
“Not yet,” Brian replied. “He has to be in here.” He knocked again. Again, no response. Brian tried the door. To his surprise, it swung freely open on well-oiled hinges. No shout of surprise or challenge came from within. The dorm was all but deserted, except for an inert form slumbering peacefully on a bottom bunk. “Drat! Missed him!” Brian slapped his thigh in frustration. A thought occurred to him. Where are those chemicals? I could just take them… He quickly shooed that thought away. That would be stealing. He had to find out what this “Seb” character planned to do with those substances before he actually did anything with them. What if–
His train of thought was derailed when the antsy dragon boy remarked, “Are you just going to brood there all day? Because I just heard the bell, so…”
“You’re right. We’ll have to try again later. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Tech. Now, I believe I must be going. Farewell.” As Brian walked, he considered the situation. As of now, Seb was still on the run, probably quite ignorant of the fate that would befall them all if he opened the green-gray bottle. He might be acting alone, he might be planning something malicious, he might be an evil sorcerer part of an organization bent on destroying the worlds for all they knew. There were too many unknowns that not even Kate could shed light on. It made him uncomfortable.
Thinking of Kate made Brian think of the dance. He knew absolutely nothing about it – what type of dancing there would be, who was going, what the protocol was for asking a girl… if even Kate was interested in going. Oh, Kate, Brian moaned inwardly, what am I going to do with you? Did she even know how to dance? She had lived her whole life trapped in a tower, so how could she know? And the most important question of all – would she go with him? But Brian needed more information before he made a move.
A hop and a skip down the hall, and Brian was at History… he hoped. He entered, sat down at a desk with confidence, and surveyed the situation. Kate was in a desk to his right – a good sign. He opened the book on the desk before him to a random page – and stared. There, on the page staring back at him, was a knight on a horse. I swear, that looks almost exactly like Sir Simon! The caption read, “A standard knight. Knights were the warriors of the Dark Ages, and the center of Medieval warfare. Their costume was as ungainly and awkward as it was ineffective,” What?!? “and knighthood was based off of birth, not skill.” Excuse me? This was too much. Brian shut the book in disgust, but curiosity got the better of him. He opened it again to the same place. He flipped until he came to another picture. It showed a well-dressed, hugely blubbery nobleman beating a helpless peasant in a squalid hut. It was captioned, “Those of high birth saw those of lower birth as less than human. This picture shows a farmer, who, unable to pay his tax, is sustaining a beating from his landlord, the Prince of Whales (for more information on the Prince of Whales, see the text on page 132)” Brian was horrified. Less than human? In what dimension? In what reality? Nonsense! It can’t be true. Certainly not of Stonestia. But this “Prince”… Brian turned to the page numbered 132, and was greeted by these words: “The so-called ‘Prince of Whales’ was arguably the most cruel of all noblemen in all of France. His real name was Prince Francois De Marcheant, referred to by his subjects as ‘Francois Le Mechant’.” Inconceivable. A rap on the front desk brought his attention upward. And so, History began.
- Rank: Knight in Shining Armor
- Total Posts: 375
Gaaa! I messed up the italics! Please excuse the bad formatting.
@everyone
So I’m assuuuuuuming all ages are together for History class. May be wrong. But I’m vibing with it, so DEAL with it. ;P
Calvin
Calvin had come back to science after leaving to grab a book from his locker, to find a chaotic mess. Apparently some kid had made a mess of things, and the teacher had been forced to send them scattering, a whole half hour (plus extra) to burn.
He had nowhere to go.
He considered stopping at his dorm room, but there wasn’t anything there to do that he couldn’t do somewhere else. Instead he and Thorn spent the time sitting on the front steps of the school, taking in the fresh air, and admiring the gorgeous gold and pink clouds…
Which turned out to be a good thing, because now, there was no doubt she would go to the dance with him.
Around forty minutes later, he found himself cuddled up against the back corner of the History class, hugging his stack of books, while gazing sleepily out the window.
If only his dusty gray kitten could snuggle with him in class. That would be heavenly, and therapeutic.
At first, it was only him and the empty, yet cozy room. But the older students came in soon after – November, Thorn, Fynn, Brianaro – and soon after that, it was the shorter kids.
Marcel gave him a smile, and seemed strangely thoughtful as he took one of the front seats. Sebastian appeared as he had that morning, with a slight pop! and an illusion of glitter lining his silhouette, two seats ahead.
As the Dogchild slipped through the closing door, class immediately began.
The professor seemed to be a little more self-aware than those of the other classes. He reminded Calvin of some of the professors his father worked with back at home – sharp-eyed, bespectacled, and surprisingly considerate of the students’ individual peculiarities.
The teacher was a dream.
But there was a problem.
As he started to skim through the textbooks, briefly pausing at the indexes, Calvin’s nose wrinkled, with mild concern. He raised his hand.
“Master Remus?”
“Sir, this textbook is insufficient.”
The professor raised an eyebrow. “Explain yourself.”
Calvin glanced around him, meeting the other students’ blank stares.
He took a deep breath, and tapped a page with a finger. “It’s quite shallow. Some events are completely removed, and others are elaborated on, with no apparent pattern. I can’t make sense of it. Um…”
He scanned one section, cheeks turning pink with effort.
“For example, some of the history of the fae people has been tampered with. I am not a faerie literally, but my race has strong similarities with them, and I have studied their culture. Some of the different types of fae, and other cultures important to the time periods, have been completely omitted from this book.”
A few students nodded, but most just looked puzzled.
The teacher gestured for everyone to be quiet, and turned a few pages of his own book. “I doubt you know more about the worlds than the curriculum writers or the authors of this book, Master Remus. Why don’t you let us get a few lessons in before you make hasty opinions?” he asked quietly.
Calvin’s shoulders slumped.
He had been so sure. He and his dad had studied world histories since he was tiny. Even some of the vague concepts, like ties between different regions’ religions over centuries of warring factions – this was the water Cal swum in.
But no one would believe that a high school student was qualified to teach history in the place of his own father, much less that he could identify mistakes in school books… Or would they?
Cal stood up, narrowing his dark eyes. “I hate to be the voice of skepticism, but I’m right. I can prove it.”
“Oh?” The professor prompted.
“Some of Baztet’s Houses are described in this book. I know more about my own race’s culture than anyone. I’ll annotate that section and submit it to the board. Or to the headmistress herself. Beyond that, as for my credentials as a professor’s apprentice in my own world, I can prove those, too. I expect to make straight grades in both this class and Cultural Anthropology, my second elective.”
Would that be enough? Was the invisible, yet undoubtedly woebegone board even up for a challenge?
Calvin caught Marcel’s eye, who mouthed, Stop being dumb!
Sighing, the professor closed the book and pulled out his notes, adjusting his spectacles. “Alright, then. Thank you, Master Remus. But let’s waste no more time, and learn with what we have. Shall we?”
…
I have no idea where this is going to go, but… it’s okay XD
“Everything is a mountain”
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