Post by MIHAI ELIADE on Jun 19, 2014 13:54:01 GMT -5
He was glad to be back at Asher Academy. Yes, yes, that's probably a ridiculous thing, coming from one of the students notorious for getting into trouble, not completing schoolwork, being late to class or (on a few occasions) skipping altogether, but that was truly how he felt. It wasn't so much the "academy" part of it that he missed—god knows he hated early mornings with a passion, and couldn't be arsed with putting too much effort into assignments—no, it was everything else. Nothing quite made life as interesting or as curious as when you put a bunch of kids with superpowers together on the same campus, and Mihai was one of those who liked to see what others could do, would dare to do. Watching his schoolmates' abilities had fascinated him since he'd first arrived at the school, and if it were left up to him, he would much rather spend time observing others than training his own. Which was another reason he was glad to leave home. As kind and as loving as his parents were, they always treaded carefully around him, as though he were a bomb that too much motion would set off—not that he could blame them, but their uneasy avoidance made his stay at Asher somewhat a relief. At least here, people didn't refrain from getting close to him as though he were a plague (so long as there was something over his skin), but his relationship with his parents wasn't something he liked to dwell on, because, really, it could be a lot worse. It wasn't as though they'd thrown him out or disowned him or anything—just never touched him, which was fair enough, he supposed.
He shook off the feelings as he tossed his two suitcases to the foot of an unoccupied bed. It was odd how returning to Asher could simultaneously inspire such emotions of relief and wistfulness—he thought he should be used to it by now, but he supposed the sentiments were difficult to conquer even for him. Stretching, feeling the languor in his body from the long flight from home, he eyed first the baggage scattered all over the floor and the bed (his bed now, he supposed). It was one of the three in the room, but another one had already been, from the looks of it, chosen by an earlier arrival. He mused a bit sardonically to himself what he had done to deserve a roommate that would immediately straighten out their belongings the instant they arrived, but there wasn't much bite behind the thought. They would get along fine as long as the other person knew how to mind their own business; Mihai, however, was not that sort of person, and curiosity drove him to the neatly arranged desk, to see if he could find any sort of identification. No such luck, unfortunately—apparently, whoever the neat-freak was, they weren't finicky enough to label their things.
Shrugging, he turned and went back to his own side of the room. He kicked off his shoes, then unzipped the larger of his suitcases, rummaging before coming up with two objects bundled in paper. He tore the coverings off, revealing dark red wax beneath, and a faint tang of fragrance wafted from the candles as he unwrapped them and tossed the wrappings carelessly to the floor. He lit their wicks with a lighter he'd packed away, then set them on his bedside table with a piece of paper underneath to catch the dripping wax. Satisfied with his set-up, he sank onto his bed with a contented sigh. That his roommate was presently gone he considered a fortunate coincidence—he was tired enough not to want immediate company. Removing his gloves for the first time in well over a day, he threw an arm over his eyes and dozed to the smell of pine and citrus.
He shook off the feelings as he tossed his two suitcases to the foot of an unoccupied bed. It was odd how returning to Asher could simultaneously inspire such emotions of relief and wistfulness—he thought he should be used to it by now, but he supposed the sentiments were difficult to conquer even for him. Stretching, feeling the languor in his body from the long flight from home, he eyed first the baggage scattered all over the floor and the bed (his bed now, he supposed). It was one of the three in the room, but another one had already been, from the looks of it, chosen by an earlier arrival. He mused a bit sardonically to himself what he had done to deserve a roommate that would immediately straighten out their belongings the instant they arrived, but there wasn't much bite behind the thought. They would get along fine as long as the other person knew how to mind their own business; Mihai, however, was not that sort of person, and curiosity drove him to the neatly arranged desk, to see if he could find any sort of identification. No such luck, unfortunately—apparently, whoever the neat-freak was, they weren't finicky enough to label their things.
Shrugging, he turned and went back to his own side of the room. He kicked off his shoes, then unzipped the larger of his suitcases, rummaging before coming up with two objects bundled in paper. He tore the coverings off, revealing dark red wax beneath, and a faint tang of fragrance wafted from the candles as he unwrapped them and tossed the wrappings carelessly to the floor. He lit their wicks with a lighter he'd packed away, then set them on his bedside table with a piece of paper underneath to catch the dripping wax. Satisfied with his set-up, he sank onto his bed with a contented sigh. That his roommate was presently gone he considered a fortunate coincidence—he was tired enough not to want immediate company. Removing his gloves for the first time in well over a day, he threw an arm over his eyes and dozed to the smell of pine and citrus.