Post by Deleted on Dec 9, 2012 1:58:59 GMT -5
“Good God, could you imbeciles possibly move any slower?”
The sentence was a waste of Arthur’s breath, and he was aware of that fact before he had finished grounding it out. Much to his dismay, the tightly-weaved throng of famished students he found himself in wouldn’t budge. Classes were out for the day, and most of the adolescents seemed relieved and easygoing as they crowded the cafeteria. Their leisurely attitude caused the crowd to move at a slug’s pace, which in turn caused one particular student’s headache to worsen. He raised a weary hand to his forehead and groaned.
It hadn’t been a week since Arthur was enrolled into Asher, and he’d already grown sick of just about everything. Getting used to his schedule and those around him gritted down on his nerves, his patience wearing until it was paper thin. Exhaustion and aggravation followed close behind, and murky thoughts filled his head wherever he went. Ever since entering this dreadful academy, he had felt physically ill, and waiting endlessly in a cramped supper line only fanned the flames.
At his previous secondary school, it was easy enough to avoid the lunch crowd; he could simply skip it in favor of eating something at home. But at this dreadful academy, where all three courses were served, taking trips to the cafeteria was inevitable.
Staying there, luckily, was not.
However, Arthur found it difficult to maintain a proper hiding spot, due simply to the fact that there seemed to be people everywhere. In the dorm rooms, the lounge, outside - he’d tried place upon place, only to be met with at least one other student. The only options left were the bathrooms and the library. He wasn’t desperate enough to try the former, and as for the latter...well, eating and reading at the same time never turned out to be a pleasant experience.
Unless, of course, he was one who enjoyed waking up from his illusions with a slack mouth, lettuce hanging half-chewed from his lips.
Not a pretty picture, was it?
And so, the dilemma ensued.
After what seemed like an eternity, the bookworm eventually found himself at the end of the supper line, tapping his foot and glancing around antsily.
Step One: Find a Possible Candidate and Approach Them.
He scanned the crowds of students. There always seemed to be an influx of people in the cafeteria come dinnertime; many of the tables were already filled, only a few with one or two seats still empty. Soon enough, though, an abnormality in the sea caught his eye, and Arthur trained on the spot. There was one table left, and it was entirely vacant - save for a single student. After a few seconds of staring, the familiarity clicked.
Lovino Vargas: the grump extraordinaire.
He was a fellow junior with a rather foul reputation, known for crushing students’ spirits as easily as if they were bugs under his shoe. Or, perhaps...did his name have something to do with an R? Arthur had overheard another addressing name for the boy a few times, but never bothered to listen closely enough.
The sole reason for his (admittedly small) knowledge rested in the intertwining of the two boys’ fates: they were assigned seats next to each other in English Literary, the only class that the bookworm enjoyed and observed thoroughly. In the others, Arthur didn’t pay much attention to his surroundings, opting instead to learn only what he needed to succeed. Socialization with his peers was never on the top of his list.
Besides, the efforts he had previously been required to make crumbled in the overbearing presence of his relatives.
“Oh, you’re related to them?”
The question had been spewed in disgust by students and teachers alike. Assumptions were made before the most basic of introductions; as soon as someone knew his surname, they were likely to stay away. Arthur wasn’t especially fond of having people around him in the first place - the fact that he wasn’t allowed the option was what bothered him.
But this boy...
From what he’d noticed of Lovino, it was as if he despised everyone around him. (Well, every person of the male variety, that is.) The student glowered and complained and berated without pause, never seeming to pay much attention to his class.
Arthur faintly recalled reading a few articles in which swearing proved to be a significant pain reducer. If this were the case, Lovino might as well have been suffering from a terminal illness. Though his choice of words were usually vulgar, they were quite the eloquently crafted phrases, Arthur had to admit. Such unabashed hatred could work to his advantage; after all, it wasn’t as if the bookworm was a ray of sunshine, himself. Their combined bottomless pit of hatred may very well lead to a budding, nagging acquaintance.
Or instead, well, Arthur could get bludgeoned with insults so fast that his head would spin.
Either way, it didn’t matter much to him. Bad-mouthed or not, he’d have the possibility of sugar-coating and sending the situation to his father for momentary approval. One attempt was all it took. It would count as socialization, and that was good enough.
The junior walked forward now, a permanent resolve about him. Once he reached the table, his set his tray down and collapsed into a seat, posture slouched and arms crossed. He grimaced down at his food, picking at it with a fork. In intervals, the bookworm glanced upwards: twice at the clock on the opposite wall, then finally to his peer with a painstakingly neutral expression.
Step Two: Initiate Conversation.
“The food they serve here is atrocious, don’t you think?”
No greeting, no pleasantries - Arthur cut straight to it.
He was inept in social regards, truth be told. Positively meek.
He expected that his efforts would, no doubt, be shot to hell.
--
(And after forever and a day, it's finished! x D x /
Sorry for the wait.)
The sentence was a waste of Arthur’s breath, and he was aware of that fact before he had finished grounding it out. Much to his dismay, the tightly-weaved throng of famished students he found himself in wouldn’t budge. Classes were out for the day, and most of the adolescents seemed relieved and easygoing as they crowded the cafeteria. Their leisurely attitude caused the crowd to move at a slug’s pace, which in turn caused one particular student’s headache to worsen. He raised a weary hand to his forehead and groaned.
It hadn’t been a week since Arthur was enrolled into Asher, and he’d already grown sick of just about everything. Getting used to his schedule and those around him gritted down on his nerves, his patience wearing until it was paper thin. Exhaustion and aggravation followed close behind, and murky thoughts filled his head wherever he went. Ever since entering this dreadful academy, he had felt physically ill, and waiting endlessly in a cramped supper line only fanned the flames.
At his previous secondary school, it was easy enough to avoid the lunch crowd; he could simply skip it in favor of eating something at home. But at this dreadful academy, where all three courses were served, taking trips to the cafeteria was inevitable.
Staying there, luckily, was not.
However, Arthur found it difficult to maintain a proper hiding spot, due simply to the fact that there seemed to be people everywhere. In the dorm rooms, the lounge, outside - he’d tried place upon place, only to be met with at least one other student. The only options left were the bathrooms and the library. He wasn’t desperate enough to try the former, and as for the latter...well, eating and reading at the same time never turned out to be a pleasant experience.
Unless, of course, he was one who enjoyed waking up from his illusions with a slack mouth, lettuce hanging half-chewed from his lips.
Not a pretty picture, was it?
And so, the dilemma ensued.
After what seemed like an eternity, the bookworm eventually found himself at the end of the supper line, tapping his foot and glancing around antsily.
Step One: Find a Possible Candidate and Approach Them.
He scanned the crowds of students. There always seemed to be an influx of people in the cafeteria come dinnertime; many of the tables were already filled, only a few with one or two seats still empty. Soon enough, though, an abnormality in the sea caught his eye, and Arthur trained on the spot. There was one table left, and it was entirely vacant - save for a single student. After a few seconds of staring, the familiarity clicked.
Lovino Vargas: the grump extraordinaire.
He was a fellow junior with a rather foul reputation, known for crushing students’ spirits as easily as if they were bugs under his shoe. Or, perhaps...did his name have something to do with an R? Arthur had overheard another addressing name for the boy a few times, but never bothered to listen closely enough.
The sole reason for his (admittedly small) knowledge rested in the intertwining of the two boys’ fates: they were assigned seats next to each other in English Literary, the only class that the bookworm enjoyed and observed thoroughly. In the others, Arthur didn’t pay much attention to his surroundings, opting instead to learn only what he needed to succeed. Socialization with his peers was never on the top of his list.
Besides, the efforts he had previously been required to make crumbled in the overbearing presence of his relatives.
“Oh, you’re related to them?”
The question had been spewed in disgust by students and teachers alike. Assumptions were made before the most basic of introductions; as soon as someone knew his surname, they were likely to stay away. Arthur wasn’t especially fond of having people around him in the first place - the fact that he wasn’t allowed the option was what bothered him.
But this boy...
From what he’d noticed of Lovino, it was as if he despised everyone around him. (Well, every person of the male variety, that is.) The student glowered and complained and berated without pause, never seeming to pay much attention to his class.
Arthur faintly recalled reading a few articles in which swearing proved to be a significant pain reducer. If this were the case, Lovino might as well have been suffering from a terminal illness. Though his choice of words were usually vulgar, they were quite the eloquently crafted phrases, Arthur had to admit. Such unabashed hatred could work to his advantage; after all, it wasn’t as if the bookworm was a ray of sunshine, himself. Their combined bottomless pit of hatred may very well lead to a budding, nagging acquaintance.
Or instead, well, Arthur could get bludgeoned with insults so fast that his head would spin.
Either way, it didn’t matter much to him. Bad-mouthed or not, he’d have the possibility of sugar-coating and sending the situation to his father for momentary approval. One attempt was all it took. It would count as socialization, and that was good enough.
The junior walked forward now, a permanent resolve about him. Once he reached the table, his set his tray down and collapsed into a seat, posture slouched and arms crossed. He grimaced down at his food, picking at it with a fork. In intervals, the bookworm glanced upwards: twice at the clock on the opposite wall, then finally to his peer with a painstakingly neutral expression.
Step Two: Initiate Conversation.
“The food they serve here is atrocious, don’t you think?”
No greeting, no pleasantries - Arthur cut straight to it.
He was inept in social regards, truth be told. Positively meek.
He expected that his efforts would, no doubt, be shot to hell.
--
(And after forever and a day, it's finished! x D x /
Sorry for the wait.)
