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Date Posted: 19:56:24 05/19/02 Sun
Author: Julian Emberson
Subject: Re: If you could only see.
In reply to:
Pandora Fallon
's message, "Ironic, but such is life, eh?" on 17:29:50 05/15/02 Wed
[[ OoC: Yeah. AMAlice. I haven't finished it either because my friend took it and didn't ask and well, I've been to busy to ask for it (as I have been really busy these past days). The Cheshire's design is great. =D ]]
He smirked victoriously. Perhaps it wasn't much of a victory. Maybe she talked as much to other people. But it seemed victiorious anyhow, a broad smile like the fifth symphony on his face. His other arms tapped aimlessly on the edge of the chair, listening some intently to her words. He felt even fuller as she began to turn it around, taken aback by the simple beauty he found in it. It entranced him as any gracious piece does, eyes nearly watering with amazement and ardor for the simplicity of the pencil lines, drawn across a pad. The coal forming figures the drew him into his mind, void of anything but the vision of the painting. Every piece he admired was like a high for him, a pill, taking him into himself to file within the strokes, the artist, the piece. He blinked.
"It's beautiful." He remarked, going no further than saying so. If she had seen for a brief moment, how he had tucked away into his mind (for it was always obvious --he made no moves to cover any of it), the honesty in those words, that was all that needed to be said. Why be articulate with a millions words when there was one way you felt about it, mundane as it was? That he no longer regarded as important. The entire side of his head rested on his arm, letting the other half simply drop across the empty space of the edge of the chair like a dead stick. He nodded, completely silent as his eyes remained on her sketch, which in his eyes seemed unearthly ethereal. He withdrew his position and sat straddling the chair, back straight and eyes now directly on her. He understood her point of view. Quite more, he shared it. That was a problem in this school. However talented anybody may be at magic, they all cared more about their stature than anything else. It annoyed him. As if you could find love in this school and let it be allowed without being a sin to conduct. He'd much rather find it somewhere where stature that didn't matter, didn't interfere.
He nodded, a regretful frown on hsi face. "It is rather a pity, isn't it, that people here haven't outgrown a lot of unnecessary things? Or perhaps, maybe, we've just grown too fast," He closed his eyes, opening to look at the clock then back to her. "Either way, yes, most of everyone is pretty stupid. To say the least. And I'd go as far enough as it's hard to find smart people around. Either they're too quiet," He smiled. "Or they're too stuck in their thirst for popularity. Anyway," He watched as Joaquin stumbled out with the triptychs. "Insane or not, you're good."
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wonder what i'm blinded by? -- Pandora Fallon, 14:39:33 05/20/02 Mon
The vacant and somehow insightful lilac colored eyes bore cynically into his murky teal gaze, pessimistically assuming he would disparage her assidiously completed work although he does quite the opposite; instigating a hiatus from dreadful fret for her. As he professed the laconic speech, a coy simper of beguiling though meager proportions facilely lambented across her unflawed visage, but it was gone so quickly that one would question it ever exsisting at all. It succored her, being in the mere, solacing presence of someone that perhaps she could find rapport with, but she was so preternatural that it was objectional if she would ever lighten up a bit, if you will. If one held hopeful prospect of her ever becoming an open book, they should quickly reconsider their foolish deducements, for that is something she would never sink so positively low to achieve. Content with basking in the sometimes golden, sometimes not, silence, as he continued to study her art diligently. "Look at the faces, and maybe you'll recognize some of our peers." She smirked tremendously, maybe even a little dementedly, but rapidly straightened herself out so that she didn't appear frazzed and insane. Let's be honest, now, she wasn't completely sane, but she also wasn't the most lucid mind around, either, despite being inspiringly and astoundingly intelligent; a la Van Gogh. The ironic similarities between duo painters that had lived such a gargantuan time frame apart were peculiar... bizzare, even, to the point where she cogitated about being him in a past life of sorts.
"They think so much alike and insipid. Their dullness makes my eyelids droop. I hold a belief that they're afraid of me because I have a mind of my own. Imagine that, eh?" She snorted blandly, rolling her orchid toned optics in disgust. A thoughtful look crossed her face as she began contemplating him with slightly narrowed, oddly colored orbs. "You seem to slide in with them somehow, but you're not like them." Reclining by now but not slouching as she would never forsake her polished, ineffable grace and urbane etiquette, she folded her feeble arms directly above her slim abdomen and crossed her dainty legs. The aesthetic, deranged sketch she had been bestowing towards him gravitated towards her lap with the aid of her elegant hands, eventually landing the piece silently and gently. The elfinly delicate girl extended her limbs, graceful hands curled to fists, a tingling, satisfying sensation joustling through her as she stretched. A yawn conveyed her exhaustion but not ennui, by any means, for this posh blonde stranger was quite intriguing; to the behemoth extent that he had actually prodded her awake from her lethargy and gloom. "Flattered." Sarcastic, of course, what else would one expect? If anyone got too close between the barbed wire that she had caged herself with from the 'putative mainstream', as she referred to them oh so affectionately, they would feel the scathing of the woefully vengeful bournes of the immuring tool that would never leave her defenseless. A ghostly vestige of a phantom like smirk played across her light mulberry colored mouth to accompany her satirical snipe, and her passionless followed his olive one to the intellectual teacher. Perhaps not everyone was quite as insufferable as she had been adament in austerely enforcing herself to accept, but only time would tell if she could somehow escape the great emotional void she had calamitously debacled into.
[OOC: we should probably start winding this thread up soon within the next few posts since when she came in he only had fifteen minutes left and blah blah blah. -nods- I got to Beyond The Wall in the Fortress of Doors recently, a couple days ago, I think. I haven't had a chance to play it since then, though. I agree. I think they designed all of the characters well. Pandora reminds me of Alice because Alice is in an insane aslyum and I think that's where Pandora will end up.]
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Re: the ringing of your ears. -- Joaquin Riddle, 18:55:17 05/22/02 Wed
Joaquin huffed as he set piles upon piles of huge, oak-paneled triptychs on his desk. He sighed in content as he trudged lazily to his chair after finishing, falling back with a relaxed exhalation of air. He sat there, half-listening to their chat, lids nearly closing but was awoken by the sound of thundering footsteps. He jumped, watching the students fly by the door and students enter, taking their seats. He watched Julian sit, proper in his seat and Pandora's own reaction as the room was filled. Joaquin smiled, waving cheerily as he always did.
"_______ was absent today, so instead of Miss (Mr.?) NeoHippie teaching you, it will be me. Don't know me? Well, I'm Mr. Riddle." He smiled, almost maniacally. "So very nice to meet you all."
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