Name: Ash Kimiko
D.O.B: October 1st 1986
Sexuality: Straight! :3
Specialise Subject/Years Teaching at the Academy: Vocal specialist/trainer (House of Bleu and 2 years)
Parents: Maria and Tye Kimiko
Other Known Relative(s): Unknown
Physical Appearance (Links approved): Dark brown hair and a slim figure. Has brown-reddish eyes. Is of average height and likes to play tennis. Will most likely wear black jackets which are army like styled. Likes the colour blue and hates pink.
Maybe something like this...Minus skirt and pink. http://i43.tinypic.com/wumesw.jpg
Personality: Is very optimistic and hyper but hates crowds. Gets on with all people and never hesitates to help people, can be quite boyish at times! She can be serious but only when it is needed!
History (optional): Suffered from amnesia when she was 15, due to protecting her parents from a mysterious stranger. Ash had quite a good childhood.
Ash walked across the corridor enjoying the rarity of the quietness. She looked outside the window and sighed happily.
"I wonder what types of students will be coming in to this grand academy." Her voice filled with excitement. She took a quick glance at her watch and turned her calm walk into a hectic run, not wanting to miss the action going on at the ceremony. She smiled and laughed slightly, even though she was a teacher trying to set an example to the students she couldn't help but slack off slightly. There was no one around and if there were any students they would normally keep it a secret or just laugh at her hyperness. For a 24 year old she still had a whole lot of kick in her and she was proud of that!
Last edited by Ace Illusion; 07-29-2011 at 03:57 PM.
<-- Best thing ever >W< KYAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
"'Step down from the team'? What do you think you're going to accomplish by leaving the team without a captain and your two strongest players!?" Henry stood up suddenly to face him, his figure bristling with rage, hands clenched into fists at his sides. His dark eyes blazed, coal-black and smoldering with dissent. "You can chastise me all you want, but I'm not the only one at fault," he continued, his voice like spewing acid. "You give us the boot this early in the season, you'll have no leadership, no talent, and no one to bring them to the best they can be! You're fucking us over for the Tournament. Do you really think you can win the Championship this year without us?" An empty drinking glass sat on the end table, and he snatched it up and threw it down on the hard stone floor, shattering it to miniscule bits. They skittered all over the floor, glittering in the dying red sun rays that penetrated the wide glass windows and doors. "And fuck that, I'm not writing an apology letter to anyone. They can kiss my ass. What do I owe any of those people?" He pushed past Markus and Bleu, his face coloring a deep red with exertion and frustration. The veins in his forehead bulged. "You want to kick me off the team? Go ahead and do it. I'll pack up and leave this shit hole for good."
He stormed out ahead of Bleu, shoving open the glass entry doors and barrelling down the steps. He could barely see where he was going, could barely feel anything except for the rage building inside of him... It would never dissolve, it would never dissipate. He could not control it anymore, couldn't rein it in like he used to. This was the final straw.
But he had to keep going. There was nothing to do now but push his body to its limit until it broke, and the white hot ball inside of him cooled again, shrank back into submission.
So he ran.
He couldn't halt his thundering heart, the pounding of the rushing blood in his ears, the tireless pumping of each powerful limb as it carried him across the wide open fields. Out here, where he ran every morning and every night of every single day during the school year, it was only his body and the earth. In the crimson sun, he was a burning blur; his jaw was set, his arms and legs cranking in mechanical motion like rapidly-turning gears. Nothing else mattered but the dry grass that crunched under his shoes and the dust and dirt that flew through the air at the mercy of his lengthy, heavy-footed stride.
At the very edge of campus property there was a tiny wooden bench beneath a weeping willow tree that hardly saw any visitors. It was far out enough to be secluded but still within sight of the major buildings, though it was but a speck on the horizon. He'd come here many times to think; a small creek trickled benignly nearby, and the trees offered a coolness that refreshed him after the long, hard run.
He couldn't tell how long he'd been running, but the sun still hadn't sunk too low. The ceremony would probably be starting now, or might have started a few minutes ago. He was very quick-footed when he needed to be, and this two-mile run had probably taken him just over ten minutes. His chest heaved with the exercise, his ribcage expanding painfully and retracting again with his exhale. The only sounds in this place were the creek, his breathing, and the whispering of the leaves in the slight breeze.
The anger had been tamed again, for now. It had receded into the depths of his body, gone away to hide. He stared blankly down the ravine at the silver line of slowing water, gurgling cheerfully through the mud and weeds. He passed the rotting wooden bench and sat down on the bank of the creek, realizing that he was still in his dress clothes. They were horribly dirty and tattered now, but he'd deal with that later. He peeled his suit jacket from his sweat-soaked skin and yanked his tie off of his collar, also tugging off his shoes and socks. He felt lighter already, and his drenched skin began to breathe again, cooling itself. His breathing had slowed to a more normal rhythm, though his chest was still pained. He gazed deep into the narrow waterway, watching tiny green minnows and tadpoles as they flitted in and out of the shallows.
"You'll die, Henry. You'll die if you stay like this. Why can't you let go? Why is there so much darkness and anger in your heart? Just let go."
"I can't... I can't, it's always there..."
The athlete trailed his bare toes in the water, and the fish scattered at the foreign presence.
"I'd never hurt you, Jake..."
"But you've hurt many others... So, then, what makes me any different?"
Jake was distracted for a moment at the grating sound of Henry yelling at the soccer coach, but it was over almost as soon as it started. When Henry was angry, he needed to escape; running was the only way he could overcome it, but running from his problems... that was a different story. The dancer watched him storm out of the lobby, and soon his retreating form was only a black smudge against the green athletic fields. He knew exactly where he was going. Henry had showed the place to him before, a secret place on the outskirts of campus where he went to share his most intimate thoughts and feelings with the trees and the flowing waters. It was a place of healing for him, and they were the only two people that he knew of that went there regularly. It was sheltered by the trees and not an easy place to come upon.
He pushed Henry from his mind for now. There was nothing he could do for him, nothing that he could say, and frankly he did not feel as though he owed the athlete any comforting words at all. He had no intention of approaching him to "patch things up", nor did he want anything to do with him. In fact, he regretted ever knowing him, at this point.
Listening to Sanders talk, Jake's mouth tightened into a narrow line, his face pinched with discontentedness. By the time the teacher had finished speaking and Shane had offered an affirmative to his requests, Jake had still remained silent, looking pained and offended as ever.
"Mr. Sanders, with all due respect, I don't think I'll be needing the assistance of inexperienced students in order to train," he said irritably. "I highly doubt they can teach me anything that I don't already know. I need the expertise of professionals, not children that don't even know their way around the school yet." He stood up and brushed off the front of his suit jacket, though it was spotless, and straightened his tie, though it was impeccably straight. "I'm sure they'll be valuable assets to the school. I'll get them acclimated, but they won't be my instructors." His usual haughtiness was there again, though his fingers still twitched, longing to pick at each other. "Thank you for the offer. But if you're not going to be my teacher this year, then I'd prefer to work with Miss Maxwell or hire a private teacher. We'll meet your nephews at the Clock tomorrow at three." He gestured to the clock tower that lay in the center of the campus, visible outside the glass doors. "I'm going back to my room now."
He strolled out toward the doors, unable to avoid shooting a hostile glare at the red-headed soccer coach from across the expansive lobby. His jagged green eyes fixed him with a look of derision before he glanced back at Shane, his eyes immediately softening. Still bright and sharp, as if holding some well-kept secret, but cooled enough not to sting him. It was different than before; he almost welcomed his being.
"Really, it absolutely mortifies me to ask this, but I think if I have to sit in that room alone for the next three hours I'll die. So, please, would you at least join me?" His mouth was tense with embarrassment, but it was the truth. He needed someone, and at the moment his options were extremely limited considering all that had taken place. And for some reason, at that particular moment, he just wanted his roommate to be his roommate. He wanted something warm and breathing in the same room, just to know that he wasn't as crushingly alone as what he felt.
Name: Aeric Arasano
D.O.B: March 4th
Specialise Subject/Years Teaching at the Academy: Drawing/Sketching/Painting; 4 years
Parents: Analise and Romando Arasano
Other Known Relative(s): N/A
Physical Appearance (Links approved): http://i1178.photobucket.com/albums/...3750-1024-.jpg except his eyes are more blue...
Personality: Aeric is the typical easy-going slacker who never really had an interest in academics. His true love has always been art, and even though he's now a teacher of art subjects at the Academy, he still acts like the typical high school student. He's got a little bit of immaturity, but that makes him endearing to his students. He's someone that his students can talk to about real issues because he's so approachable. He doesn't spend too much time teaching in his classroom but prefers to take his classes outside to create artistic pieces. He's constantly inspired by nature and architecture, and he takes a great interest in the artwork of those he teaches. Rather than instructing them to the point of taking away their creativity, he pretty much lets them have free roam in their projects, taking independent strides. On the side of his teaching career, he is obviously an avid artist himself, and the art building as well as his office is plastered with many of his works. He's been to many other countries to buy and sell artwork, and he's very knowledgeable in art history and theory. He doesn't pretend to know everything, however, and is quite laid-back and very easy to get along with. Despite the division of the Houses, even students from other buildings know him and interact with him regularly. He's a well-known face for first-years, since he loves to introduce them to the campus. An all-around nice guy, if you asked anyone.
History (optional): There isn't much to mention about Aeric's childhood. Though he was an only child, his extended family is very close-knit, so he never felt lonely growing up, especially because he had countless cousins to play with in lieu of siblings. Although his parents weren't rich, they were well off, and he grew up comfortable in a loving environment. His parents were always very optimistic people, which is why Aeric is the same way. He dropped out of school when he was seventeen, though he continued to independently study art, and because of his talent he was hired at Gabriola to teach. He has been at the school for four years now, and he could not imagine doing anything else.
(( @vodoodollz here's a treat for Reiner XD ))
Aeric was late for the opening ceremony, as he was every year, and the Dean had probably come to expect it of him. No sense of urgency whatsoever: that described his level of concern perfectly. He wasn't stubborn or spiteful in the least; just forgetful, easily distracted, and generally lazy, as most great artists were. Both the Dean and the other teachers had grown used to it by now, if anything.
He gazed up at the Clock from where he strode slowly and methodically on the sidewalk, taking his time even though the large, round, white face was reading 6:30 already. They'd be starting dinner now, eating up while they prepared for the awful thirty-minute introduction speech by the Dean at seven. Aeric was extremely fond of the old man, but that speech was a killer. He'd brought a sketchbook and a stick of charcoal to pass the time during that snore-fest.
Looking around, he could see that the campus was all but deserted. All of the students must be in the auditorium... except for...
He spotted a young man in the small grassy field nearby, sitting underneath the shade of a tree. He was obviously trying to skip out on the ceremonies, as Aeric himself would do too if he could help it. But teachers had no choice; it was mandatory for them, and a no-show could land their jobs in deep trouble. Well, if he had to go, then this little truant would have to go too. It was unfortunate, but those were the rules. Aeric hated enforcing those... but, hey, it would kill some time.
As he approached, he realized that he recognized the younger man in the grass. He had a sketchbook propped against his knees, busily scribbling away at it and occasionally looking up at his subject for reference. He knew Reiner John very well, if that could even be accomplished. The student was a private soul and rarely opened up, but it was very easy to judge a person's character through their artwork. Aeric liked him, if only for the fact that he always showed up for class and he at least had talent.
"What's up?" Aeric leaned against the tree, tossing his heavy briefcase to the ground. It thumped loudly in protest, and Aeric winced and rubbed his shoulder. The thing was getting far too weighty; he'd have to clean it out before the year officially started, or he'd be hunchbacked before the age of thirty. "Aren't you supposed to be somewhere?" He smiled and glanced at the auditorium building, then back at Reiner. "Like, say, an opening ceremony of some sort? Trust me, I don't want to go either. But if you go, I'll make you a deal. Get Out of Class Free Card." He took a small card out of his pocket and waved it in front of Reiner's face. "Actually it's a used gift certificate to the Pancake House, but I figure it has multiple uses." He grinned and sat down in the grass with a sigh.
Last edited by Akirai Narumi; 07-30-2011 at 03:27 AM.
------ Markus ------
Markus paled at Henry's outburst. He just stood there as the soccer player ran out of the building. Uncharacteriscally, Markus slammed a fist against the wall and cursed. He then cursed again when he realised that he had used his bandaged hand. The red head held it and let tears sting his eyes. Markus turned to Jeremy and hissed;
"I'm going to my room... tell Uncle Will that I wasn't feeling well." With that said, he left the building.
------ Bleu ------
Bleu had barely stepped out of the building when Henry rushed passed him. He turned just in time to see Coach Danford whack the wall. The blonde then quickly hurried when he saw that the red head was coming his way. It didn't take him long to get to his room. Slamming the door shut behind him, Bleu slid down the wall and sighed. What a night? I wonder if Henry's gonna be okay...
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--- Jeremy ---
"That's not it Jake. I'm still going to teach you; though there might be a professional called in to help. But don't take Luke and Lexie lightly. They might surprise you." The blond man said as he watched his students leave the foyer for their room. Sighing, he felt an incoming migraine as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Perfect, not even the first day of school and he was already having mishaps happening here and there. Just then Markus came up to him and hissed that he'd be in his room. Nodding, the blond made his way back into the hall and took his place. trying to look like everything was perfectly fine.
'Thank God I'm such a good actor.' he thought as he informed Markus' uncle that the coach was feeling a bit ill.
---------Alexis and Lucas -----------
"Look, Uncle Jerry's back." Alexis said as his brother snapped to attention. His eyes darted to look at the staff table and sure enough, their uncle Jeremy was there, looking like all was right in the world. At least to most people.
"Something's bugging him." Lucas said shortly before turning to his brother. Alexis merely nodded before letting out a small yawn, covering his mouth delicately with a pale hand.
"I'm sleepy Luke.. When will this thing be over?" Alexis asked as his brother shrugged.
"Heck if I know but I'm pretty tired too..."
Connie turned to the other, a small aproving smile on her lips.
"All the best," she replied with a toast with her glass, "Markus has? Ahh....watch out for that one. Will flirt with anything on two legs. Though I'm sure you will handle him well enough."
Connie's lips lifted into a small knowing and aproving smirk at the other woman.
(( Thanks @Akirai Narumi ))
Reiner had settled a bit after none of the teachers outside the hall's door had noticed him and had gone back to his sketching. He was startled awhile later by his art's professor.
He winced at the sound of the suitcase, raising a pointed eyebrow to the teacher at it.
"Professor," he greeted softly with a sigh. He hated the Entrance Ceremony as much as any meal, if only for the fact that he wouldn't be able to pass the Dean's speech by drawing. As a student he had to at least pretend he was paying attention to it.
"Trust me, I don't want to go either. But if you go, I'll make you a deal. Get Out of Class Free Card....Actually it's a used gift certificate to the Pancake House, but I figure it has multiple uses."
He gave the older man a small smile at that, "But Professor. That would only pass for your class....one of the only classes I actually enjoy attending," he raised his eyebrow, "And besides you will no doubt spend The Speach drawing. I can't do that, so I guess you will have to make another deal."
He sighed and relaxed slightly with the teacher sitting down. It didn't look like it was an instant removal. He looked back at the building across from him before adding some more strokes to his sketch. Architecture was his usual style and he was trying something new rather successfully. Reiner prefered landscapes and the occasional protrait.
Come take a look....
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Ash walked outside to the fields for fresh air, it was odd. Not a single bad event had happened to her, "Hehe, lucky!" She laughed childishly and crossed her arms over, everyone was at the ceremony but it dragged on at times. She put one hand behind her head and walked off to where it was being held. She would have to attend or else she wouldn't hear the end of it from the Principal and that was the last thing she wanted! She shoved her hands in her pocket and stopped, a few more minutes of free time wouldn't hurt. She grinned and walked away, her excuse would be to patrol the area for any students. She shook her head, that didn't seem convincing but she would have to give it a shot if she was caught by the principal.
------ Markus ------
Markus sloppily changed his bandage because the pain was too much for him. The red head kept seeing an anger Henry in his head and almost cursed about what he had down with his student the previous year. With one loud grunt, Markus passed out on his bed.
------ Bleu ------
Bleu peered out of the window thankful that the room faced onto the fields. Blue eyes searched for his room mate so he knew that the taller teen was okay. Spotting Henry in the dark was quite different and Bleu soon got an headache trying to squinch his eyes just to spot Henry. Giving up, the blonde flopped onto his bed. He sighed as he brought up his knees and hugged them; he wondered if Henry and Coach Danford would be okay. The pair were fearsome when anger and the blonde knew not to cross either of them.
"If neither of you have any question about 'tour guide duty' tomorrow, I guess you both can go to your rooms now,” Sanders conceded. "There's no point in keeping you two here and frankly I don't want you guys to die from boredom. It'll look bad on the school records."
Shane’s knees protested as eased up the wall and continued to straighten, lifting his arms far above his head. “I dunno, man.” The stretch elicited a small shiver from the guitarist’s tensed body though his shoulders and spine voiced their approval with noisy pops. For all his mischievous inclinations, Shane was a terrible sneak: his joints always gave him away. “Let me die and you just might be doing the school a fav-”
“Step down from the team?!
Henry’s outburst echoed hollowly throughout the lobby, reverberations amplifying the rage fueling his tirade. So that’s what Danford said? He wanted them to quit? Even Shane recognized that the athletes didn’t deserve the grossly bloated punishment that had just been delivered to them. Unless the pair had accumulated a long list of transgressions and the auditorium confrontation was the final violation of available amnesty, it seemed arbitrarily harsh to demand that the fourth-years remove themselves from the sport to which they’d been dedicated since the day they first set foot on campus, especially considering that Shane’s own track record was far from immaculate and the incident had only made him responsible for chauffeuring two transfer students around the Academy.
It...it would be like ordering Shane to personally destroy - with his own two hands - all of his musical equipment just because he’d told a talentless freshman to keep his first-year, grubby mitts away from a beautiful concert piano, knowing that the student would never be able to play the instrument in a way that would showcase its beauty.
"Really, it absolutely mortifies me to ask this, but I think if I have to sit in that room alone for the next three hours I'll die. So, please, would you at least join me?"
While Shane mulled over his poorly executed metaphor, Sanders and Jacob had apparently concluded their discussion. Standing a few paces from the lobby’s exit and silhouetted against the fading light that streamed through the large glass doors, the dancer was bathed in a natural glow that highlighted the fine construction of his face, shadowed the creases of his clothes, cast his form into a long dark shape that stretched across the floor.
“Yeah," Shane said. "Yeah, I’m sure I can pencil you in.” He flashed a wry smile. “That is, if you don’t mind making a quick stop in the music room. I have a package I need to pick up.”
"But Professor. That would only pass for your class....one of the only classes I actually enjoy attending."
Aeric laughed and rolled his eyes skyward as if to chastise himself. "Oh, yeah," he admitted. "There is a flaw in my logic. I'm so glad you've spotted it. Ah, well." He tucked the paper back into the pocket of his jeans. "I really am flattered that you like it," he said jovially. "The class, I mean. I think this year we'll do some things a little differently. We'll go places, actually wander off campus a bit. Walk on the wild side. You know! Go hiking, take a field trip to the park... I'm just really feeling a change of scenery is in the works."
With a pleasant smile, he lay back in the grass, arms folded comfortably behind his head. In the light of evening, his auburn hair glowed red, and his eyes took on almost a golden hue, though they were normally aqua. "I don't wanna go," he whined, his eyes shut tight and his face contorted in a childish look of refusal. Just as soon as it had come, it disappeared again, and his handsome face was once again his own. He tilted his head to one side, glancing at Reiner from under his curtain of hair. "What're you working on, anyway? You don't have to show me. I know you like to keep your work to yourself when you can help it. But what is it?" He stared at him inquisitively, his expression curious and once again looking too youthful for his age. "Man of few words, you are, young Mister John. Soooo serious." He laughed and picked at the chutes of grass around his face, plucking them and examining them closely. "Not unlike a night-blooming flower or a great horned owl." It was well known that Aeric tended to compare people to animals, once describing the Dean as "an old bearded goat, but a lovable one" or comparing the soccer coach, Markus, to "a red fox with absolutely no capacity for deception or trickery". He thought of Reiner as something beautiful but deeply sequestered, like a glittering pool inside a mountain cavern that caught just the right amount of moonlight.
"Yeah, I'm sure I can pencil you in. That is, if you don’t mind making a quick stop in the music room. I have a package I need to pick up.”
Jake glanced worriedly at the door, where Sanders had just disappeared. The soccer coach and team member across the lobby had since exited, and now it was only the two of them, Shane's smooth melodic voice trickling across the open space like an ethereal stream. Jacob sniffed, crossing his arms over his chest and once again looking back toward the door to the auditorium, where he could hear the Dean starting off his trademark speech.
"Although it is sunset, we now witness the dawn of a new school year...." He could almost mouth the speech verbatim. It was the same every year.
"We're supposed to go to our room," Jake reminded him, biting his lower lip. But when his gaze fell upon Shane again, he was no longer thinking of his fear of punishment and retribution for doing what he wasn't bidden to do. He was more focused on the prominent slope of the nose, the high cheekbones, the raven-feather hair. He was so tall. So proud, and he stood so straight... Jake was a dancer, not an artist, but he was pretty sure that the guitarist's body was any artist's dream. His brows and lashes were dark and serious, though his eyes betrayed a mischievous, devil-may-care attitude. At this point, he was fairly sure that Shane wasn't affected by what anyone said to him. Sure, he would have emotions, things that he felt deep inside, but it was difficult to reach those, to pull those strings and push those buttons. Jake knew within himself that he had the power to do this, to anchor him, to make him feel. But there was also the antithesis, too. There was always the fact that Shane could break him of his societal chains, make him think outside of the comfort zone of his upbringing, let him voice all that came into his mind without any petty filters.... set him free.
"Ah, forget it," the dancer said suddenly. "Let's go." At that moment, he felt the breath of life approaching, though it hadn't quite touched him yet. It hovered just out of reach, showering him with anticipation. He started out the door, knowing that in a few strides, they would be walking in sync again as if by magic.
I don't know who you are... but I'm going to find out. His green eyes danced across Shane's lanky figure, his angular face, his deep eyes. I hate it, but I'll admit it at least to myself... I'm drawn to him... But that's foolish. All he feels for me is disdain, just as I show him. What could ever come of it? We'll be roommates, and that's the extent of it...
But as they walked, he couldn't keep his eyes from his fingers, his lips, his legs. And he couldn't brush away the notion that he'd enjoy his touch.
Name: Caleb Gracen
D.O.B: June 1, 1986
Specialise Subject/Years Teaching at the Academy: School Chef/ 2 years
Parents: Elisa and Jeremy Gracen
Other Known Relative(s): Lial Gracen (Cousin), Erica Dallas (Aunt)
Physical Appearance (Links approved): Caleb- usually he's seen wearing a chef's uniform which includes a traditional double breasted, white chef's jacket, hat, and black trousers.
Personality: Calm, Serene, Quiet. These are the words that most accurately describe Caleb. It takes a lot to get him riled up emotionally. He's a generally nice guy, and often assumes the "big brother" role. He adores children, and is also very patient. He is very passionate about cooking, as well as music, but hates it when the food he cooks goes to waste. He takes great pride in his food, and enjoys watching people enjoy it- not waste it.
History (optional): Caleb has had a pretty uneventful life once he moved out of his mother's home and went into his father's care. He went to normal public high school, then to small culinary school, and minored in Classical Music (concentration on Violin). He got hired to work at the school after his failed attempt to earn the title esteemed title as Master Chef. The failure came as a big blow, and he thought that working at a prestigious school would better his chances the next time he was graded on his cooking. He's trying to save up enough money to one day purchase his own restuarant so will often take up odd jobs in the town nearby as well- mostly giving private violin lessons. The worst thing that happened to him was when he was still a child. His mother, who suffered from a severe mental disorder, became angry at him one day. She locked him in a small ice chest for hours, before trying to burry him and the chest in the back yard because she was convinced that if she he was going to kill her in her sleep. Needless to say the neighbors noticed and the police took care of the rest. He was placed in the custody of his father, and his mother was shipped off to a medical ward for proper treatment, he still visits her every weekend and she still seems convinced he's out to kill her. He developed severe claustrophobia (fear of small spaces)and nyctophobia (fear of the dark) from the traumatizing experience. Because of his fears, he also tends to have bad relationships- he tends to end up with people who get tired of his irrational fears and having to work around them (walking instead of taking a cab, taking stairs instead of an elevator, sleeping with nightlights, ect). When he isn't working he likes to sneak into one of the music rooms at night and practice his violin.
The cafeteria had finally quieted down some, now that orientation was well underway. Most of the tables that littered the expansive room were empty, and littered with trash and untouched food. Occasionally there was a table dotted with a student here and there, or faculty member, but aside from that the place was officially a wasteland of...trash.
Caleb Gracen, watched as one of the janitors slowly worked his way down between the tables, sweeping and tugging a trashcart behind him, attempting to make the place respectable once again for the spoiled children of the rish and famous. His nose scrunched in something akin to pain as he watched the old man shovel an entire tray of uneaten goodies into his bin. After two years of working here, it was still a painful sight to witness. Granted they weren't exactly expensive, or extravagent dishes, but they were at least more top notch than the public school lunches he was used to. Hell, half the time they were better than the meals served at top notch, expensive restuarants. Did these teenagers care though? Of course not. Food was food. If he had known he would feel this underappreciated, he would have seriously reconsidered accepting this job.
He sighed at the thought, lifting a hand to momentarily ruffle the brown locks on his head. He sat just outside the kitchen in the cafeteria, on a simple chair, against the wall. His white Chef's jacket unbuttoned just slightly to let him breath, and the hat neatly placed on the floor next to him. He was taking a small break from supervising the cooks under him that were making more pastries and deserts for the desert and snacks counter. And as usual, when he took a break, he was trying to convince himself not to turn in hat and quit but rather find a more creative way to engage the faculty and students with the food he got. So far, over the past two years, he hadn't had any luck and he was starting to question his abilities as a chef. Had he lost that wow factor? Or was the school restriction on what he could and could not serve hampering his creative abilities.
You're putting the blame on other again, he mentally chided himself. He hated doing that. Almost as much as he hated the thought of quiting. He liked this school, sadly enough, and the staff...
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Ash walked slowly and went inside the academy, she would have to take a quick detour to the canteen. She entered the canteen, looked around the vast expanse of space and couldn't believe her rotten luck, she came far too late to get a snack. "Awwhh, so much for getting a snack before attending the ceremony." Though her voice was filled with a slight amusement her stomach begged to differ as it felt the pain of hunger. She looked around, a glass of water would have to do. Her voice was important, she was the singing teacher after all. She looked around and spotted a chef, her eyes sparkled with hope! She dashed to the chef and looked at him, "If its not too much trouble...could I still get something to eat?" She pulled out her card to prove she was in fact a teacher and not a student. She grinned nervously, she was known for her big appetite and it didn't help that he looked slightly grumpy. Her eyes shone with determination as she stared, silently hoping that he would allow her to at the very least have a cookie. The thought of the cookie made her feel like a slight fool, but it made her chuckle on the inside.
His roommate glanced nervously at the door where Sanders and Danford had retreated into the auditorium, teeth grazing against the soft, pink flesh of his lower lip. It was almost endearing. Shane snickered at his reluctance, though perhaps appreciated the physical display of Jacob’s anxiety more than what the dancer would have considered appropriate if by some horrifying twist of fate the boy was privy to the nature of Shane’s inner machinations.
Oh, the things he would see. More poignantly, oh, the things he would never unsee.
“We’re supposed to go our room.” The innocuous reprimand reiterated the conditions under which Sanders released them. Jacob looked up at him - there was, Shane estimated, perhaps four inches between them - with a smooth gaze, softer than what Shane expected to see, those green eyes made lovelier by the dim light that caught the color and amplified their glassy depths. If the guitarist didn’t know better, he’d say the gaze was almost...benign. Welcoming, at a stretch.
Jacob really did have nice eyes, when his glare wasn’t telling you to eat shit and die.
Responding to the change he saw, Shane felt himself relaxing, withdrawing the venomous barbs that pricked through his speech and body language. Some people liked to think he was always an asshole. Shane liked to think those people were morons. Besides, he was, as if for the first time, noticing the smooth complexion of Jacob’s skin, the soft wisps of hair that framed his forehead, the delicate composition of his face and frame, made more readily apparent by the shadowed light that accentuated his bone structure and-
“Ah, forget it. Let’s go.”
His roommate beat him to it, and before Shane could convince him that yeah, Sanders told us to go to our room, and we’ll get there eventually, Jacob was out the door.
“Good answer,” came the guitarist’s satisfied response, matching strides with his roommate as they crossed campus.
The music area shared the House of Bleu’s first floor with the dance studio, the available space neatly divided between the two. The kitchenette was located in the basement, where there were also private study rooms for actors wishing to rehearse monologues and additional soundproofed rooms for musicians who wanted to practice in private, since the soundproof studios on the first floor were for upperclassmen only. The music room could be reserved by a group of students who wanted to play together, though otherwise, it was kept open. Since classes and performances were held in a separate building, which contained a series of classrooms and a large, spacious stage neatly set up to mirror the sectioned arrangement of an orchestra, the music room in the House of Bleu was more of a lounge where musicians could gather to loiter or practice. Shane tried the knob; because everyone was at the ceremony, the room was empty, and the door was locked.
So instead, he fished into his pocket, fumbled through his collection of keys, and fit one into the lock.
"This can be our little secret," he said, traipsing inside like the owned the place and tripping a lightswitch near the door frame. “Come on in."
The lights flickered to life, revealing a comfortable space with small couches and different kinds of musical equipment that belonged to the school. A piano was nestled in one corner of the room, and the wall that faced the door was decorated with an elaborate painted score. It was against this wall that various cases were arranged, instruments that had been shipped to the room for musicians that didn’t have the space in the car for their guitars or amplifiers or anything else they wanted to bring to Gabriola.
“Alright, where are you…”
Shane huffed, hands on his hips, perusing the packages lightly until he recognized a familiar shape. Bending at the waist, he tugged the case toward him and slung it over one shoulder. His acoustic fit snugly against the curve of his back, and he was just about to turn to leave when he noticed that taped to the other side of the case was an envelope addressed to him. Quirking an eyebrow, he leaned the guitar against the piano it originally rested against and snatched the letter from its surface. After sufficiently obliterating the envelope in an attempt to get at its contents, he pulled from the remnants a hand-written note.
Considering that you probably ripped this note into at least three pieces trying to open the envelope, I’ll keep it short. With auditions for music academies coming up, I just can’t let you use a rented piece of equipment. You have the talent. Now, you need to look the part. There's something I want you to have - it's on top of the piano. I'm not worried about anyone else taking it, since your name's engraved on the case, and I doubt you'll manage to go through the whole day without somehow ending up in this room.
By the way, orchestra tryouts will be held in two weeks. The concertmaster graduated last year. We’ll need a new first chair.
Shane paled. He and Engalls had kept in touch over the summer, sporadic emails here and there, and he mentioned off-hand that the shabby violin he used wouldn’t be making its return to Gabriola. He and the professor were close, but there was no way. No way. No way in hell. Shane's chest slowed as his eyes slid from Engalls' small print to the lid of the piano, upon which rested a small, black case. He loosened the latches and, with trembling fingers, lifted the instrument from the plush, wine-colored interior. It was a resonant spruce-topped violin, with highly figured maple panels for the sides and back.
Barring the fact that he was mainly attracted to men anyway, for metaphorical purposes, it was more beautiful than any woman he'd ever seen.
Caleb's gaze shifted to the woman who entered the cafeteria. He leaned forward, resting his left elbow onto his left knee, and his chin into his left hand. A few brow strands flitted into his gaze, but he made no attempt to move it. Instead he simply watched the woman, the crest fallen expression, and then the look of hope before she approached him.
"If its not too much trouble...could I still get something to eat?" the woman asked, producing a faculty ID for him to view. His gaze bounced between the card, and face, then card again. Al lthe while, he remained in that same position with that same, somewhat blank expression on his face. Usually he would refrain from working during his break, but he always had a hard time telling a pretty face no. Especially one that seemed as apparently famished as her own.
"Usually I'd say no," he finally replied. His voice was smooth, and soft, but deep enough to definitely define his masculinity. "But, we've got plenty of left overs so I think I'll make an exception. Grab a seat, I'll be right back."
Caleb stood and grabbed his hat from the floor. He raked one hand through his hair, pushing it all back from his face, before settling that hat back onto top. He turned and disappeared into the kitchen. There were plenty of left overs that were just going to get thrown out if they did not get eaten the next meal, so he grabbed a small assortment of them , mostly french dishes such as Basil salmon terrine, Foie gras with mustard seeds and green onions in duck jus, and creme brulee, and apple tarts. He set a portion of each dish onto a simple tray with a set of utensils and brought it out to the famished faculty member.
Reiner looked down at the man that was meant to be his professor but at that point of time he sounded more like the teenager Reiner was instead. He sighed and shook his head in amusement, a smile starting to play out on his lips.
"I think this year we'll do some things a little differently. We'll go places, actually wander off campus a bit. Walk on the wild side. You know! Go hiking, take a field trip to the park... I'm just really feeling a change of scenery is in the works."
The idea had alot of merits and it would be nice for a change of scenery.
"Oh? Hiking? You plan on taking the Blancs out hiking?" he sounded amused, hiking sounded more like a Noir fieldtrip than Blanc, and most Blanc students....well lets just say there was a reason the where Blanc and not Noir.
He watched the older man from the corner of his eyes, taking notice that for a teacher he did look attractive. He sighed and derailed that dangerous thought.
"What're you working on, anyway? You don't have to show me. I know you like to keep your work to yourself when you can help it. But what is it?"
He looked at the man fully now, contemplating. It was true he didn't really show his work to many. In fact, the elder man only really saw his main peices for projects and his work book.
"Man of few words, you are, young Mister John. Soooo serious.....Not unlike a night-blooming flower or a great horned owl."
Reiner blushed a delecate shade of red, his eyes averting from the teacher though his hand held out the sketch book for the other to look through. Many of his works were landscapes in different techniques, though there were quite a few portraits. Mostly of the staff and students, even the head chef who he normally got a quick snack from instead of going to the mess hall, some from his holidays at home with family and a couple of animals here and there. There wasn't many still life ones, but there was a good one with an hour glass and a vase with roses next to it. The most recent ones showed his progress in architecual works.
Ash jumped happily as the man accepted her request, she went to sit on a seat and a few minutes later he arrived with a tray filled with an assortments of colorful and tasty dishes. Her eyes sparkled as she took a small bite of each. The flavors danced on the tip of her tongue as she savored the taste, she moved on to the dessert and 5 minutes later it too was gone. In her two years in teaching, she couldn't believe that she had not eaten in the cafeteria! Yet, all these rich kids were treating it like normal food! She was speechless, "Wow..." a quiet mumble came out of her mouth as she thought on. She couldn't believe school food made her feel like this! As she stood up she grinned slightly with a light blush over her cheeks, "ahaha, sorry! T-that must've sounded really awkward!! I'm really sorry for disturbing you in your break!! I'll be sure to pay you back!" She laughed and smiled at the man, she would have to come to the cafeteria more often!
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