|
|
Post by Leandro INRIGUE Gonzales on May 8, 2012 14:22:10 GMT -5
Footstep after footstep could be heard. Somebody was pacing around in the gymnasium. This person had to be doing something physical or doing a nervous walking fit session. The latter was to blame. Whomever this was they certainly didn't think that perhaps white pants, a white t-shirt with a red bullseye emblem on the chest portion and black boots wasn't appropriate for a gym.
Leandro Gonzales was the worried party. He looked to have been heated about something since his skin only turned a darker shade of pink when he was upset about something. Punching bags were sliced in half and smoking via Leandro. He split the objects in half with his laser beam ability. This was his way of venting. He knew that he probably should have used his power outside of the school since he was a potentially dangerous person. He didn't care today. Leandro believed he had enough control over his power whereas he wouldn't harm anybody unless he intentionally did so.
The more he wanted to stop thinking about everything the more he considered smashing someone in the face. So far, nothing was going as planned. The whole point of being employed here was to feel a sense of service and belonging. Instead, the pointless existence was becoming more and more apparent. Nothing in this world seemed to make sense anymore. No matter how much he progressed in life there would always be the inevitable set back that will always destroy any chance of living on the up and up.
"Physics teacher?! What were you thinking Leandro? What? Seriously? This is what you wanted to do with your life? You could have been a model! Well, I ain't good looking. Could've been a singer though? Oh wait, gotta be able to sing to do that. So what, exactly, am I good at since I suck at teaching?!" he exclaimed aloud. Leandro had a way of expressing his feelings but in the form of anger. No matter how much he wanted to control his temper he could not do it.
He felt useless at the school. For a while, before he came here, he thought for sure this school had to have had something more than just...well...a school. Yet, there was nothing else really here. He didn't really get along with people and he had nobody to blame but himself. The more he tried to be different the more he felt like he wasn't even effective as a teacher. Leandro was a perfectionist. He needed to feel exceptional. He needed to feel like he was always a cut above everybody else. If he didn't accomplish that goal he felt like a failure.
|
|
|
|
Post by STORY MORDECAI GUERRERO on May 8, 2012 16:19:20 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #5C5C5C; true] Cause' everybody wants to hide their secrets away Nobody wants to stand up to the pain But I will stand up to the pain Wake up and fight again If you could dance with me through this rain And we will fight, we’ll fight again, fight again In the back, in the closets of your mind Thats where skeletons and dirty secrets hide
leave them on display for you;
Some days Story didn’t even feel human. This was one of those days. He lay on the bed of his dorm room with his head hanging off of the edge and his feet pressed against the wall. He held an envelope above his face staring intently at the colored pencil writing debating whether or not he should open it. Story saw no good in either opening it or just tossing it in the trash. Maybe he would just get someone else to open it for him. Maybe he would get Ollie to read it first and she could decide whether he was ready for whatever it said. He needed to get up. He needed to move. He needed to take a walk. Story rolled off of the edge of his bed and picked a hoodie up off of the floor, pulling the bright orange sweater over his bright purple shirt. “I’m gunna’ take a walk, CB. You man the fort,” |
[/color] he told his teacup pig while he pulled on his blue heart sunglasses and started his walk. The envelope tightly gripped in his little fingers crinkling it something fierce. He was an odd site to be seen, just wandering slowly through the halls and across the campus with distant eyes and an almost forlorn expression. The mixed race young man too old for his grade dressed in neon colors and heart shaped sunglasses indoors. Scuttling about as a casual pace with absolutely no destination in mind. He didn’t really want to go anywhere, he just wanted fresh air. Which was rare for him, as fresh air was often pair with daylight that blinded his photosensitive eyes. So he just walked. He didn’t even think very much, not about what he was doing at least. His mind was too busy wondering what could possibly be in a letter from his father, who was spending the rest of his miserable and worthless life in prison. What things did his father possibly have to say to the son he nearly killed on multiple occasions? A son he had left as a broken shell of a human being with little hope for surviving in the real world? Somehow he found himself in the gym, pushing open the door just enough so that he could slip through and step inside. But there was someone in there and he suddenly felt like he may be intruding on something personal or important. Story closed the door behind him and pressed against it debating whether or not he should say something. “Everyone is good at something,”[/color] he said but he wasn’t sure if he was heard. “Even I’m good at something.”[/color] If he was good at something and he was barely even human than this teacher, who he had never actually had before, had to be too. [/div] words; 470 tags; foe outfit; herenotes; c: [/td][/tr][/table][/center] |
|
|
|
Post by Leandro INRIGUE Gonzales on May 8, 2012 19:56:58 GMT -5
He turned his head to see a student entering the fray. For the most part he didn't enjoy acting out in front of pupils. However, he had a habit of always making a fool out of himself in front of the youngsters. This wasn't a good look. The more he tried to be the model adult the more he failed at it. Just another reason why he didn't think he would be great at anything. Leandro was becoming the horrible example that he so feverishly preached about
Leandro shook his head in disagreement. "Where did I fail you kids? Where? I have to know. See, you sound like the ever ready optimist who believes anything that a magazine or what a deluded teacher would tell you. They say everybody has to be good with something and you'll live the American dream. Kid, do yourself a favor and abandon your dreams while you still have sanity left," he said. He was really depressed at the moment. The more he attempted to think about something else the more he reminded himself of just why he was sad.
The lasers that came from his fingers were being aimed at punching bags that he set up to be his victims. This was more venting. He tried not to pay much attention to the kid more than the words he just portrayed. However, he couldn't just ignore the child the way he wanted to given the fact that he wasn't supposed to act this way. He was supposed to tell this guy that there would always be an option and that there was a way out of everything.
"I'm sorry you had to see that. When you're my age you'll understand and especially with the way things are going with the world," Leandro said, making an excuse.
|
|
|
|
Post by STORY MORDECAI GUERRERO on May 8, 2012 20:44:38 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #5C5C5C; true] Cause' everybody wants to hide their secrets away Nobody wants to stand up to the pain But I will stand up to the pain Wake up and fight again If you could dance with me through this rain And we will fight, we’ll fight again, fight again In the back, in the closets of your mind Thats where skeletons and dirty secrets hide
leave them on display for you;
If Story had been any other student this man’s words would most likely crush him. He would most likely be ruined to hear that he should just forget his dreams. But Story wasn’t any other kid. He wasn’t any other person or any other mind. “I don’t have dreams,” |
[/color] he admitted. “And I’m not an optimist.”[/color] He didn’t even know what “optimist” meant but he wasn’t going to admit that yet. A tattoo covered hand ran through his scruffy Mohawk, rubbing the sides of his head that used to be shaved but were starting to grow in. Story took a few brave steps forward, moving closer to the teacher he wasn’t very familiar with. He taught something to do with science, which Story didn’t have to take. He only needed general science. General Math, English, Science, and everything else. Story wasn’t just a year behind, he was several years behind. When the lasers started firing he jumped back and scrambled against the wall whimpering, covering his face with his left arm because it was the one that could afford more damage. Each time a laser fired he curled into a tighter and tighter ball until there wasn’t any more he could do to cower. “I’m tired of people telling me that. That I’ll understand when I’m older. I understand now. More than people give me credit for,”[/color] he spoke as he uncurled himself from his fetal position ball and started standing back up. He stepped forward again and started pushing up the sleeves of his hoodie. Revealing tattoos completely coating the left and scars decorating both. “This right here—”[/color] He pointed to a scar on his wrist that looked like he had been slashes open by some Medieval torture device. “Is from slicing myself open over and over with an IV needle when I was in the hospital because the world is shit and everything fuckin’ sucks and because I don’t belong. I don’t belong here at this school or in Castles or in California or anywhere else. I was supposed to be dead a year ago but I’m not but I will be. I don’t have time for dreams or optimism. I don’t know much but I know that everyone has something that they’re good at, even if they’re good at being an asshole.”[/color] This was the most talking he had done to an adult male ever in his life. [/div] words; 400 tags; foe outfit; herenotes; c: [/td][/tr][/table][/center] |
|
|
|
Post by Leandro INRIGUE Gonzales on May 8, 2012 21:26:18 GMT -5
"Hey, look..." Leandro said before taking a step forward. "I'm sorry, okay? Just having a rather nasty day so far and I'm not feeling too hot kiddo. That's not an excuse but just an explanation," he went on to say. Leandro felt bad for perhaps bringing up bad memories for the younger part of the conversation. He knew he didn't like people talking down to him or making him feel bad about his life. Goodness knows he could have done that by himself. So the fact that he indulged in such distasteful language with this child was probably not the best course of action. He felt a degree of shame for the way that he acted. Yet, at the same time, he didn't see a real way for him to react differently given his situation.
Red eyes lit up and looked the kid over. This wasn't laser vision but it was just a habit that he had when he was focusing on someone. No laser would touch this kid's skin. Leandro viewed the various trails of self-mutilation and was disgusted. At first, he felt sorry for the student. Now? He felt like this kid had to be stupid for what was done in act of self violence. Leandro never brought physical harm to himself. He didn't see a point in it. Why should he work to do something when he could easily get into a heated bar fight fueled by Corona? These types of acts of harm to one's self made no sense to him. He didn't even understand why the kid wanted to tell him all sorts of things revolving around the subject. Still, he had to be the adult here. Even if that adult was a bit of a child at times...
Leandro attempted to lighten the mood. That would be difficult to do given the dramatic body poses this guy already showed Leandro. "I'll say it once and I'll say it again. Marilyn Manson is a band and probably more geared towards one guy. Don't listen to that kinda stuff. Makes you do crazy stuff," he said, trying to joke. Now was the time for the great back pedal. This was the moment he had to show at least that he was human and not an emotionless bag of hate and anger.
"Who am I kidding? I listened to that jerk a lot when I was younger. Loved every song. Couldn't help it I guess," he admitted. Leandro grabbed his right wrist and rubbed on it. Too much exertion had a way of harming his wrist. "I hate this power sometimes. You know, it's lovely being better than the regular humans but there's always a price, know what I mean? Of course you know what I mean. You wouldn't be here if you didn't," he went on to say.
|
|
|
|
Post by STORY MORDECAI GUERRERO on May 8, 2012 21:43:56 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #5C5C5C; true] Cause' everybody wants to hide their secrets away Nobody wants to stand up to the pain But I will stand up to the pain Wake up and fight again If you could dance with me through this rain And we will fight, we’ll fight again, fight again In the back, in the closets of your mind Thats where skeletons and dirty secrets hide
leave them on display for you;
While Story had stepped closer he still made sure to keep several meters of distance between him and the teacher, who’s name he had long forgotten. He had a hard enough time remembering Felix’s real name, let alone the names of people he didn’t see or talk to on a regular basis. He gave a small nod and stepped backwards half a step, tugging his sleeves back down so they covered even his hands. It was weird being apologized to. It was odd. He was so used to the one doing things wrong that he almost didn’t understand what was being said to him. “We all have bad days,” |
[/color] he simply said in return. It wasn’t that Story thought his life was the worst out there and that he deserved extra for it. Oh no, not at all. Story thought that everyone had lived like he had until very recently and thought that it was his own fault for being stupid and useless. He didn’t want sympathy or pity whenever he spoke about what had happened to him he simply wanted people to hear. He wanted people to listen. He wanted to be heard for once in his life. He didn’t like being looked at and just tugged his sleeves down even further, looking away and stepping back yet again. “I didn’t make all those marks. Just the one I pointed at,”[/color] he whispered but he wasn’t sure if it was loud enough to be heard. Truth be told most of his suicide attempts had been stopped far before he could leave a permanent mark. But now he had someone who needed him. Even though he felt like he was destined to leave earth early he had someone who needed him. A three year old named Pearl who relied on her daddy. It wasn’t enough to give him hope or dreams or a will to live, just enough to keep him occupied for now. “Who’s Marilyn Manson?”[/color] Was that the blonde chick with the mole on her cheek from the 40’s or something? He had no idea. The teacher continued talking about this Marilyn figure and Story just shook his head in further confusion. “I can only use mine when I’m asleep so I don’t really get why I have it in the first place.”[/color] He shrugged and sat down on the floor, legs extended in a V shape and his hands on the floor. His fingers spread out so he could read the words inked across them, though to him they were upside down. “So from where I sit you’re pretty good at your power. See, good at something.”[/color] It wasn’t often when Story felt like he might be doing some good or actually getting something right. [/div] words; 460 tags; foe outfit; herenotes; c: [/td][/tr][/table][/center] |
|
|
|
Post by Leandro INRIGUE Gonzales on May 8, 2012 22:04:59 GMT -5
Leandro shook his head. It was as if this kid didn't get what he was trying to say. He didn't too much care if he was good at using his power. He was trying to talk about the price that super humans had to pay for having such abilities. While the teacher would have loved to give instruction about the gift and curse function of special powers he decided not to say anything and to leave well enough alone. However, since this kid seemed to lack the same kind of humor that Leandro had a curiosity was peaked.
"So, what is it that you do kid? I mean, you have to, in some way, have some sort of power. Haven't met a kid around here who didn't. So, what is it? Go through walls? Super human vibrating ability that wows the girlies? Hmm? Come on, lay it on me," he queried. He really wanted to know. While Leandro had a specialty for naming almost any Journey song he did have another gift when it came to amplifying powers.
In a sense, the student was right. The fact that Leandro asked such a question proved that he was good at something. He managed to boost his own lasers with glass and plastic. He had similar plans of boosting the abilities of as many students as he could so that said students could be prepared to face much more challenging situations. The more he tried to avoid the persona of the innovator the more he seemed to fit into that role. He smiled and awaited an answer. He needed to know what this kid could do so that he could think of a way to be the antennae to give that signal some more strength.
The pain in his wrist continued. He kept on rubbing his wrist. "And, please, if your ability has anything to do with getting rid of annoying aches be my guest. I'll be your crash dummy," he added. His hand began to turn into a deeper shade of red than the rest of his body. Energy was building up into his hand. He tried to calm his powers down which could be, at times, a real struggle.
|
|
|
|
Post by STORY MORDECAI GUERRERO on May 11, 2012 15:55:28 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #5C5C5C; true] Cause' everybody wants to hide their secrets away Nobody wants to stand up to the pain But I will stand up to the pain Wake up and fight again If you could dance with me through this rain And we will fight, we’ll fight again, fight again In the back, in the closets of your mind Thats where skeletons and dirty secrets hide
leave them on display for you;
Story wasn’t exactly the brightest guy out there. He wasn’t that smart, and part of that he couldn’t help. Story couldn’t control what had happened to him. He couldn’t control how his brain worked and what it allowed him to remember and understand. If it didn’t want to remember the obvious stuff he couldn’t change that. It was difficult to tell if this was a product of injury or something he had from birth but either way he wasn’t exactly leaving any time soon. Yeah, he was an idiot. Yeah, he hated being stupid. No, he couldn’t change it, so why try? “I…Uh…” |
[/color] He wasn’t sure how to explain it. His hands raked through the outgrown Mohawk and his eyes searched the gymnasium for the answer in near desperation. Like he might get hit with lasers if he didn’t answer right away. “Can make things…out of light.”[/color] He was starting to mentally delay himself even further than he already was, returning to the time when he couldn’t seem to speak a full sentence. “But I can’t do it on my own yet…Just when I’m asleep.”[/color] He gave a small shrug, hands still in his hair. See, Story was a people pleaser. He spent his entire life thinking that the whole reason he existed was to make his father’s life easier, only to usually end up fucking everything up. All Story wanted was for people to accept him. He wanted to feel normal. He would, without hesitation, give his most treasured possessions to someone if they asked for them. Because he thought that that was what he was supposed to do. Because he wanted to make other people’s lives easier. “No but…”[/color] He stepped closer, almost cautious about it, and reached for the teacher’s hand. “I can help,”[/color] he offered. His power might not do much good right now but he had plenty of practice rubbing out stuff or soar spots. [/div] words; 320 tags; foe outfit; herenotes; c: [/td][/tr][/table][/center] |
|
