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@freedomwriter76 I KNOOOOW 😭
#IfMarcelDiesIRiot
#ProtectMarcel
#ProtectSebBut hey! U do it to Riker the baby 😭
#IfMarcelDiesIRiot
#ProtectMarcel
#ProtectSebHow is Wolfie with the nurse? Is he okay? What’s going with that cuz now I’m wondering…???
#IfMarcelDiesIRiot
#ProtectMarcel
#ProtectSeb- Rank: Chosen One
- Total Posts: 8156
@godlyfantasy12 I was about to RP that, funnily enough! 😂
and i know, I know…don’t remind me 😅😆😭😭 lol, jkjk
Ezra
Wolfgang sat on the nurse’s examination table, smiling and kicking his legs as if nothing had ever happened.
The Nurse stepped back into the room, biting her lip, glancing at the clipboard in her hands. “You seemed fine yesterday, and you still seem mostly fine, Wolfgang…but I think you need to get to the hospital…we can’t leave this untreated for too long. I don’t think you have a concussion, but you could have an injury, and head injuries need to be treated quickly. I can call your parents, and one of them can take you to the hospital.”
Wolfgang shook his head. “I don’t want to go to the hospital.”
“I’m sorry, child…but I believe you must.”
Wolfgang wrapped his arms around himself. “I don’t wanna…” he quietly whined.
Ezra laid his hand on Wolfgang’s knee. “It would be for the best, Buckeroo…you need to be checked out.”
“I don’t wanna go alone…”
Ezra bit his lip and faced the nurse. “Could one of his brothers be given something that could give them the day off?”
The Nurse slowly shook her head. “I’m not so sure about that. I can get one for Wolfgang, but his brothers…I’m not sure, that would be a question for the headmistress, since she is in charge here.”
Well, Ezra certainly wasn’t talking to that woman, nor would he expect her to agree to it…she wasn’t a nice woman, after all…well, “not nice” was too good for her.
(wow, Ezra…I love you😂😂)
He faced Wolfgang again. “I’m sorry, Buckeroo, but I don’t think any of your brothers can come, but you’ll be okay, I promise…”
Wolfgang slowly nodded, seemingly trusting Ezra.
Wolfgang bit his lip. “…Will I have to stay away from school?”
The Nurse slowly nodded. “…You might, if you have a bad injury.”
“I need to talk to someone! Paxton…I-I need to make sure he’s okay…”
Ezra gave Wolfgang a small smile. “I’ll check on him for you…would that be ok with you?”
Slowly, Wolfgang nodded. “Yeah…just…just tell me how he is, ok?”
Ezra nodded. “I promise.”
He stayed with Wolfgang for several minutes, until a man stepped into the room, wearing a business suit.
The Nurse went over to him, quickly explaining the circumstance.
It must have been Wolfgang’s father, Felix.
The man went over to Wolfgang, quickly checking him up and down. “Wolfgang…what happened? Who hurt you?”
Wolfgang shrugged. “I-I don’t know, Daddy…”
Felix let out a quiet sigh and reached for Wolfgang’s hand, helping him off the table. “Come on, let’s go to the hospital, Wolfgang,” he turned to Ezra, “thank you for coming with him.”
“Yessir, it was my pleasure.”
Felix left, Wolfgang’s hand in his own, Ezra thanked the nurse, and Ezra left the room, quickly shooting Leo a text to let him know what was going on.
Now…he needed to find Paxton.
@freedomwriter76 aww Wolfie 😭 poor baby!! That would be scary…
#IfMarcelDiesIRiot
#ProtectMarcel
#ProtectSebI do believe Pax has missed Marcel under his blankets – he naturally slept in XD
Also DUDE, at this point I don’t think M has the energy to do anything about his former roommate’s situation. I mean, an order from the headmistress? Kind of hard to slip out of that one.
We could just jump the headmistress herself…?
I’m kidding of course, but at this point, that’s the only thing I can think of.
Marcel
When the sleepy-headed Marcel peeked over his quilt, the sun was already high in the sky.
His entire bed was glazed with yellow and orange, and the blankets covered in a thin frosting of fuzz.
He rolled over, and instantly regretted it – sticking his nose and mouth into his pillow and breathing hard, as if using an oxygen mask.
He had accidentally bent his wing with his hip. He eased back into his original position, and the wing slowly bent back into place, like a piece of cardboard bouncing back into shape.
What a lovely sight.
Something hummed against the palm of Marcel’s hand. He unfolded it to find a small, rose-tinted jewel, which stuck to his skin… Whether it was a magical token, or an energy-sucking parasite, he didn’t have the will to try rubbing it off.
His head felt better, though.
And a deep, sleepy numbness had grown at his back, where the feathers and shoulder blades melded together.
With an awkward stretch and yawn, knocking the bedside stand’s alarm clock over, Marcel heaved himself off the bed, and headed into the shower.
As the cold water spluttered on, he considered his options.
He could quit high school.
There wasn’t any point to that, though. He was only meant to exist in this world for so long, according to the Synod’s agenda. Marcel the Parcel of Power, for a limited time only! And if he couldn’t suck it up and make do with what he had, would his privileges be taken away?
He could spend the entire day holed up in his dorm, and try to obtain an enlightened state – have a conversation with his other self. If that was even possible. Maybe he could get some answers.
But he would need a lot of sushi and cheese puffs…Which, unfortunately, were not always at his fingertips, no matter how cosmic his missions were.
Hanging around the school sounded lame, but it was the only recreation available to him.
After kneading his hair vigorously with a towel, Marcel stepped out, and puffed up his plumage like a newborn chick drying off.
His buttery yellow shirt, emblazoned with the logo from the Dogchild’s beachside carnival, had been lovingly stitched with slits in the back for his wings. The leather jacket, on the other hand, had not been given the same treatment.
Although his wings were not affected by physical matter while manifesting – they would grow straight through fabric, and were not immediately attached to his back – once injured in the physical world, he was stuck with a bunch of heavy, droopy appendages until they were back to full strength.
Due to the crudely made splint on his wing, he could only wear the jacket loosely over his shoulders.
At least he could look… mildly cool?
He glanced around the room one last time, and something felt off, but he couldn’t place it. An empty feeling, almost. But after a solid minute trying to figure it out, Marcel shrugged it off.
He left the dorm.
The round, light green logo on his shirt and his eyes glittered like triplet planets – of different sizes, but nonetheless all orbiting one star.
“Everything is a mountain”
- Rank: Chosen One
- Total Posts: 8156
@godlyfantasy12 i know…the baby 😭 @EVERYONE
Just so y’all know, I probably won’t be on too much more today. Mom is picking up my Aunt after Mom gets off of work, so we’ll probably be spending time with my Aunt AND we’ll prob be having dinner with her as well.
Y’all have fun, and I’ll RP with y’all later!! Talk to y’all soon ✌️
@freedomwriter76
See ya! Have fun 😛
“Everything is a mountain”
@whalekeeper love Marcel! And ur writing! Hate he’s feeling so bad 😭
#IfMarcelDiesIRiot
#ProtectMarcel
#ProtectSeb@freedomwriter76 aww Ezra!! He’s such a great guy!
@whalekeeper had it been my charries they genuinely would have gone up to the headmistress and been like “You can’t do that! he’s our friend!” and she’d be like “I can too do that, I’m his mother” lol.Where'd I get ya this time? The liver? The kidney? I'm runnin' outta places to put holes in ya.
@keilah-h XD
“Well gang, back to the drawing board” 🤣
That would be a hilarious comic.
#IfMarcelDiesIRiot
#ProtectMarcel
#ProtectSeb@godlyfantasy12 it would be lol
they’d probably grumble some but come up with a new plan
and get everyone else in on it
Where'd I get ya this time? The liver? The kidney? I'm runnin' outta places to put holes in ya.
Why did I write this…
This is peak literature, peeps. I… I… no words. No words express the depths of my heart, except perhaps those of a cheesy pop song. That is the only thing that can compare.
Sebastian
The wannabe arsonist sat on the top of a brick wall outside the front of the academy, kicking his feet back and forth, in one hand a plate towered with waffles and whipped cream.
He winked at passersby.
He had woken up early, and after watching Pax struggle with his appearance and giving a few pointers, left for the cafeteria, and then for brighter horizons.
Although his eyes still had a few faint pink swirls in them, the sugar high last night had considerably lowered, and revenge had been, for the moment, forgotten.
Somehow, he had gotten off scott-free from the sparkly riot the day before. No one had dared tattle on him… at least so far. Some students even visibly shrank back whenever he passed them in the halls, as if making him out to be a psychopath.
Seb giggled at the sweet thought.
Sure, it was more of a reputation than necessary, but it was also a pleasant reminder of his toddler years.
Oh, the nostalgia.
Below, past groups of chatting students and at the bottom of the entrance path steps, a car purred to a stop.
It wasn’t an entirely normal automobile. On the contrary, its sleek silver body rivaled that of a race-car, and spotless white wheels gleamed, like highborn waiters’ suits.
A path almost instantly cleared. Some kids, out of curiosity, came forward to stare at the shiny paint job. Others only wanted to see the hidden passenger.
Seb stood up, wobble-danced along the wall, and watched out of the corner of his eye
The chauffeur cracked open the door.
Who, in this school, would come up in a…
Out of the car stepped a tiny, tiny, tiny girl.
Sebastian’s eyes grew so wide, twin galaxies could have squished inside.
And promptly dove for cover.
Of all things, this was to come to him. A thing which both frustrated him and fascinated him, which clung to his soul despite all better sense. Now, this thing came to him.
The thing which they called the Female Magnifique.
Behind the wall, Seb peered out, eyes melting a little in spite of himself.
She was, as aforementioned, miniature, with curly, ink-black ringlets bunched up against her forehead and cheeks in a beautiful circlet. Dark silver velvet rolled and folded into loose roses about her shoulders, accented by the tiniest white mink stole.
Although pink tinted her glass-like face, and warm light flickered along her head as if tying the hair in a golden bow – her eyes were lifeless.
Empty, ink black pools, those eyes.
“Everest,” Sebastian whispered, clutching his chest.
He whirled back around and stared away.
The elusive child herself, the beloved of late and beloved of many – the nine-year-old baby starlet, cursed by death and billboard advertisements.
A kindred spirit.
If reality lent itself to the faintest of fantasies.
The fire passed down from generation to generation of stylish criminals and graceful vigilantes alike exploded within him – and Seb smiled, like a fool.
And twirled around the corner, with a confidant cock of the eyebrow, and a genuine warmth bubbling up in his chest.
“Princess,” he sang, sweeping his hat off and bowing.
The girl gave him a strange, tilted gaze, snowy fur tickling her cheek. “…Bastian?”
Seb kissed her hand, ignoring the giggles from a group of schoolgirls nearby. “If you so wish me to be. I wear a variety of monikers in society – the spoiled son, the child in great need of solitary confinement, the rebel with signs of another universe already stuck to the bottom of his shoes. But I digress. I will be any role most pleasing to your soul.”
She tilted her head a little more, face turning pale. “Supposing I have a soul…”
“Oh, I will find that soul.” Seb put on a casual air, adjusting his collar while staring off into the distance.
“Only the ghost of one, thirsting for violence. You stole my machine gun.”
“Technically you stole it first. Albeit charmingly, but nevertheless.”
Everest only smiled softly.
Seb took heart. “And I improved the mechanism. Now, even immortals cower.”
“Does it shoot kittens?”
“Glitter may be less sophisticated, but it gets the job done with substantial Sebastian flair, don’t you think?”
They focused on each other, black meeting sparkling, spiraling, infinitely determined rainbow.
“Mediocre…” Everest cooed, and floated away.
Slowly… slowly… Seb walked back to his wall and and slid down to sit on the pavement, face suddenly pink.
Passion.
It always came as a surprise.
Luckily all his natural inclinations toward common sense still remained intact… and he had to rid himself of this ailment eventually, before all dignity was lost. He could not in his right mind step over the line of flirting, lest normal human limitations grasp hold of him and never let go. That would be a tragedy for someone such as himself. Krataristo upon Krataristo had tried and failed.
But nevertheless…
What fun.
“Everything is a mountain”
@whalekeeper @calyhuge @freedomwriter76 @godlyfantasy12 @keilah-h @anyone-else-I-forgot-sorry-lol
Sooo, I didn’t read through all the past RPs but I know something big happened, so could someone give me a summary of what’s gone on in the past school day or so that I’ve missed?
Write what should not be forgotten. — Isabel Allende
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