Post by lewis on Apr 21, 2012 21:21:35 GMT -5
[classy=apptite]AGNÈS BERNARDINE LEWIS
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[classy=appdesc]Oh, hey MARSEILLE, FRANCE! Look who's it is! It's AGNÈS BERNARDINE LEWIS! Oh, uh... perhaps you know them by their nickname, AGGIE? Anyway, this certain blessing in disguise came to us on AUGUST SEVENTEETH, and grew up to be a hefty 5'11". You can always tell it's AGNÈS because of their CHAMPAGNE-BLONDE hair, BLUE-GREY eyes and BEAUTY MARKS. Not to mention they've gotten themselves THREE TATTOOS! You know, everyone says they look like CLEMENCE POESY? I personally don't see it though ....
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[classy=app1]The fat lard of a principal looked over his papers with a rather disinterested attitude. He noticed you sitting down, but doesn't really have the courtesy to look up from his desk. To you, he says out loud. "Let's begin shall we? Tell me the basic details about yourself." With a cough, he shuffled through is papers and glanced at you once through his small eye glasses.
The scent of the air around her made her fairly uncomfortable, dissatisfied almost. She held her breath -- and her tongue -- as she entered the principal's office in a bit of a hurry. The wretched stench of stale tobacco, cheap cologne and something similar to a wet dog and a molded carpet had penetrated her nostrils. Though a lighter smell for the others in the room, it was amplified for her. Almost ten-fold, I dare say. She had smiled nevertheless; a grimaced look had spread casually across her face as she took a seat, resting her weary feet from the journey. I say journey loosely -- it was a small trek, though she became lost, oddly enough, trying to find this smelly man's office. I smoothed the edges of my black pencil skirt and cleared my throat. Even his breath reeked -- onions, garlic, salami. I gagged slightly, pretending to cough before I managed to fake another smile.
"Afternoon, sir." She began, reaching out a delicate hand. He didn't seem to notice, and she drew back, pursing her lips, turning away, and blinking. He certainly wasn't the most pleasant being. Though, she would have to admit, she has met people who were far worse than he. "Well, first thing is first, I suppose: please do call me Agnes Lewis. Second of all, I am twenty-four year of age. Thirdly, I wish to teach your Philosophy class." She nodded sharply, having to tuck a sheet of blonde hair from her face. She took a hold of the ivory wool, wrapped herself in the knitted sweater, pulling it closer to her petite body. A chill ran through her from the opened window. It was bright, cheerful, elegant outside. Her eyes slipped from his acne-dotted face to the wonderfully bright outdoors. She smiled a real smile this time, tilting her head slightly to the left. A bundle of champagne-colored curls falling over her shoulder. It was a habit of hers, something she wished she could break. Her eyes flicked back to him, snapping out of the daydream she found herself getting into as he began to speak again.
With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair, threw his glasses on the desk and ran his chubby fingers through thinning, greasy hair. He pinched the nose of his bridge and closed his eyes tightly as he said, "You know about the truth of this place. Now, I didn't invite you personally, my staff did. So please, give me a rundown of your power." With his eyes still shut, the principal gestured with one arm toward you to begin.
How could she possibly explain what is so simple yet so difficult? She chewed the inside of her cheek in contemplation, itching the tip of her nose before she had cleared my throat. Of course, she should have expected this to have happened. A school like this would have asked anyone -- students, staff like herself. She smiled yet again, forged and somewhat cruel all the same. Her fingers intertwined as they rested upon her lap, her knees touching almost strenuously, trying to appear much more formal than what was necessary. The smile remained, tough began to waver slightly as she parted her lips to speak. "I do indeed know of the truth of this place, which is shocking to me, nevertheless. I have lived in France and England for some time, and I have never seen a school such as a this for… 'Gifted youths' anywhere. And I do mean that." She nodded once more, her head bobbing in a slight motion as she spoke, gesticulating with her hands, waving them about in a lazy-yet-fluid movement. She tucked a strand of loose hair from behind her ear and cleared her throat. "It’s a tad difficult to explain in a dictionary sort of reference, to be quite honest."
With a soft pause, her hands folding delicately upon her lap after shifting in the wooden chair, trying to ease the discomfort that still hung about her in a blanket, a fog. She could feel the cloud of various stenches that still wafted throughout the air, so faint to others, so heavy for her. She didn't wish to breathe in this room, though she had little choice in the matter. She looked away again, her eyes grazing over the many leather-bound texts that were sorted upon the mahogany bookshelf to the right of her. Her head bobbed once more as her eyes followed the dozens of titles and authors. She blinked, hearing the slight disgruntled, annoyed cough from the principal and turned back to him, smirking sheepishly. "As I said--" she swept over the edge of the ebony pencil skirt a glossy fingernail. "--it's a difficult thing to describe. To put it in the most basic and simplest way, I have an enhanced sense of smell. But it seems to be more than that, you understand. I can distinguish smells better than a specially-trained dog can. Consider it an abnormal gift, but it's still a gist." She nodded smoothly. "Chemicals are… Most commonly sniffed out, you see. I can smell the compounds within every chemical to differentiate each and every one, making me quite special being." She paused for a moment, catching both her thoughts and her breath. "I always remembered having this ability. Neither my parents or my grandparents were lucky enough to have such abilities. I only hope that, within the future, I can have children who are lucky enough to have supernatural powers."
Finally, his eyes opened groggily. However, he wasn't much warmer. He yawned loudly and largely as he looked over your paper. With eyes watery and face red he continued, "I see why we would have invited you. Let's see… Ah, yes. Mind telling a bit about your family and where you're from?"
Family? Birthplace? Typical questions. He was a boring fellow, fat and quite vulgar. She grimaced again, a cross look spreading over her angelic features before she shrugged slightly. "What is there to really say?" She began, lifting a hand, waving it about as if to emphasize her annoyance. "My life was like any other child's. I lived in a house with a mother, a father, a brother and a sister. I was the youngest of the four -- including myself, of course. It was in a small neighborhood within Marseille, France where I was born and lived for well over ten years of my life before my father, who worked an actor for several commercials and television soap operas, had relocated to Liverpool, England, where he decided to give up on what he had and raise us with my mother, a school nurse." She shrugged and crossed a leg over her knee, leaning in slightly.
There wasn't a doubt by the look in her wide, blue-gray eyes that she was exasperated in every bit of the word. The man was a badger! Asking questions that had nothing to really do with what she had come here for -- an occupation, a way to make a living for herself here. She snorted slightly, leaning back in the uncomfortable chair and studied him with bland eyes and knitted brows. Her finger tapped upon her knee, her sharp stilettoes waving about the air upon her ankles. She chuckled to herself more-so then to him and tucked a sheet of hair behind her ear and once again laid a cold stare over him. "Is that bit of information well enough for you, sir?"
She had no desire to speak further about her life, which was obvious. What more was there to say? She played outdoors, swam in a lake and rivers with her siblings and friends. Her life was simple and grand, and had no use being talked to by a man who clearly showed no interest in what she had to say. She ground her teeth a bit, her eyes focused on him more. She let go of his grip after what felt like several intense hours and dropped her gaze to the floor, lips pursed. She didn't need to have any sort of quarrel with this man, though wished she had some other power that inflict some sort of damage to this point. Though she was a woman and was perfectly capable of causing intense damage without the use of powers -- a natural gift for all ladies. She had an uneasy feeling sweep through her gut, a tight grip like an iron fist. She wished to tell him of her past as a college student, how her gift was used in a horrible way -- but she didn't wish to bring it up all the same. It was a difficult decision of hers, and pursed her lips and kept herself from speaking. Oh, her power was used for the worse: indeed, her power was treasured by a few different men in her college, used to create the best of the drugs, the better of the drugs to earn money and more. She breathed deeply through her nostrils. She was only glad to have escaped in time. Anyone could have been.
While you were talking, the principal had made himself comfortable by leaning back in his chair and intertwining his fingers. "Hmpf. You should fit right in. May I ask, what are your plans in the future? Outside of AMG?"
Her plans outside? That was certainly a difficult question. Her eyes scanned the room as her front teeth bit down sharply onto her lower lip, thinking. She didn't take much notice of the taste of blood fused the saliva gathering over the wound. She simply licked it away, dabbing at it with a finger and acted as though nothing has happened. Hardly anyone was paying much heed to her, luckily. She cleared her throat in the silence. "Certainly the obvious: make the world more aware of those with powers."
He looks much more interested now, rather awake and in a slightly better mood. "Tell me, do you have any hobbies?" he inquired, creating soft jazz hands at the word 'hobbies' as if to mock it. "You're aware that it may be difficult to continue these on the island, as you may not leave outside of break?" It was more of a statement than a question.
A well-trimmed brow raised in slight alarm and suspicion. She pursed her lips in a thin line as he spoke. He sounded greedy -- like the smell he had given off. She snorted a bit to his statement and to his question. "I read." She started, almost giving off a venomous, cold tone. "I create fictional worlds and knit sweaters as well. I surely hope I can continue these 'hobbies' here?" She, too, had wiggled her hands in a bit of a mocking fashion, her eyes widened briefly before she rolled them and ran a hand through her curls, fluffing her silky hair before her hand had fallen back upon her lap in a lazy fashion. "Is running also acceptable? Hopefully jogging is as well. Oh, and certainly painting. Yes, I can see how difficult these hobbies can be while being trapped within an island." A sly, ignorant grin spread upon her face, curling the edges of her lips in a slight snarl. He was an aggravating fellow, rather obnoxious and unearthly. She snorted again and tilted her head, watching him more. She had several more hobbies, of course, but why give away her entire existence to a man who could care little about her?
The principal crossed his fat arms and leaned on his desk. In a much more serious tone, he asked, "Be honest, child. How do you feel about all of this...supernatural stuff?" his shoulders shrugged as he said it.
"I consider it to be beautiful, natural like a flower and a tree." She blinked, her words, though still cool, laced with a hint of warmth and slight compassion. Not for him, but for those like herself. "Perhaps we are the lucky ones that God had created. My mother had considered me quite a gift from above, so to speak." She waved her hand in the air. "I think it depends on the person. Many think little of us, others highly. But who are they to judge? Are they really so different? Certainly not." She had met few like her in France, and many in England. It was a different world, those two countries. But it taught her well, and made her think, made her believe. College had given her fear of those without power, just as it did with those with powers far stronger -- and more deadly -- than hers. She looked down at the glittering rings upon her finger, playing with the Nightingale ring her mother had given her, resembling the tattoo that rested on her neck. She cleared her throat yet again and looked back up at the principle.
"We all have different powers. Those who can become invisible, lift objects with their minds, can fly, turn into a living organism. So many are unique and different, it's a blessing. It really is. Maybe I'm like a broken record, repeating what I'm saying…" She shrugged and sighed, a slip of breath flowing from her slightly-parted lips. She was growing exhausted, sitting here before this boring, repugnant thing. She chewed her inner cheek, as if trying to pass the time. Luckily, he began to speak again. Perhaps this was over? Hopefully so.
He leaned back on the chair that squeaked under his weight. "I see. Personally, I have mixed feelings. Anyway, we're finished now." The Principal grunted loudly as he got up to shake your hand. "It was a pleasure meeting you, do you have any questions for AMG?" he added, as he let go of your hand and buzzed the receptionist to lead you out.
Oh, merveilleuse journée!
She smiled widely, realistically, nodding and gathering her things. She cared little of how he felt right now, only that she was about ready to go home, to fix her classroom, perhaps. She looked back up at him. He was expecting her to ask something, wasn't he? She pursed her lips, ceasing her fumbling hands and tilted her head. She shook her head, "No, not at the moment, at least." A fake smile had spread thereafter as she quickly got to her feet and began to make her way in a quick, fluid movement towards the door. She stopped, leaning in the doorway. She looked over to him again, her eyes a bit wide and nervous. "I'm afraid I have no idea where my classroom is…" She started, pausing for a moment to it down on her lip, gazing down the left hall. "Can you escort me, please?" She tapped her fingers on the doorframe, trying to keep herself from bolting too quickly. He had lost interest, she noticed, in any of her words and soon slipped out of the doorway, into the light of the halls, and away from the room.
Far away.
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[classy=app2]beth. central. female.[/classy]
[classy=apptite]FACE CLAIM[/classy]
[url=http://eoas2.proboards.com/index.cgi?action=viewprofile&user=lewis]CLEMENCE POESY[/url]
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