Post by PRUDENCE JAMES AEROUANT on Apr 18, 2012 21:58:27 GMT -5
[classy=apptite]PRUDENCE JAMES AEROUANT
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[classy=appdesc]Oh, hey Chicago! Look who's it is! It's Prudence James Aerouant! Oh, uh... perhaps you know them by their nickname, Pru? Anyway, this certain blessing in disguise came to us on August Fourth, and grew up to be a hefty 6’ 1”. You can always tell it's Pru because of their light brown hair, blue eyes and their many, many scars. You know, everyone says they look like Anthon Wellsjo? 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 his papers and glanced at you once through his small eye glasses.
Prudence had the sudden insatiable urge to punch this man in the face. As if having to wait for an hour for the fatass in front of him to eat his lunch in a freezing-as-fuck sitting area with nothing to do wasn’t enough. Pru had come through those mahogany doors with his normal brooding glare, and his dark mood had already tripled in size.
But this was Pru’s last resort, so he swallowed it down and, in an act of pure might, managed to look less rebellious and more bored.
“Details…” He attempted to begin, his quiet voice trailing off. He had no idea was the fuck he was supposed to say. The social worker had told him to be polite (or to shut up, if nothing else,) and given him an uncomfortable beige sweater she told him was ‘interview worthy,’ the one he was wearing at that very instant. Pru didn’t think it was very impressionable, because the man hardly gave him a glance, and it didn’t quite cover the pink and white scars that lapped at his knuckles. He bit at his cheek, deep in thought.
“Name… my name is Prudence James Aerouant.” He said in a dull, awkward manner, an attempt at forced politeness falling flat. Rather at a loss, he decided to start with the stuff the social worker had asked him when they had picked him up off the street. “I’m seventeen…. I guess that makes me a junior.” There was another painfully quiet moment as Pru attempted various sentences in his head. “And…” He nodded stiffly. “Yeah.”
A tense silence strangled Pru, who was only slowly realizing that he was quite possibly socially retarded.
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 run down of your power.” With his eyes still shut, the principal gestured with one arm toward you to begin.
Well, he knew it was coming. The big, bad question. It wasn’t like he was dreading it; unlike most of the ‘gifted’ kids his age, Prudence didn’t hate his abilities. But his particular power was… very hard to explain. He rolled around with the various tactics he had developed over the years, tactics he used to soften the blow of revealing his extremely… unique ability, but the silence only got more tense as he considered. Pru frowned, sensing the awkwardness. It was fucking frustrating, all this formality. Why couldn’t he blunt? This man had to be used to the unusual. After another moment’s stressful hesitation, Pru gave up.
“I turn into a dragon.” He paused, his brow furrowed and his chin jutted with a sort of proud defiance. “I mean, not compltetely. I’ve only done that once… But most of the time my body parts do it when I want them to. Or when I’m angry.” Talking about his dragon self was very easy. Every word seem to relax him a little more, though his glare was naturally permanent, but he leaned back in his chair and crossed his leg. “It’s exhausting. Eats up your energy.” He touched a scar on his skin absent mindedly. “And turning dragon hurts really fuc-… I mean, um, really badly. The one time I completely transformed was really, really bad. And I don’t even remember it…” He paused, frown depending.
He remembered that it was only pure rage and effort that allowed him to go into full dragon form. Pru could only recall the before and after, and they had been horrible. It was the worst pain he had ever felt. When Prudence was first developing his ‘gift’ he had virtually no control. He would wake up in the middle of the night with burning pain, half creature, half man. Scales would speckle his skin, and sometimes a giant claw would suddenly rip through his skin. But he was older now, and he had gained a small amount of control over his… little quirk.
The man seemed to take his sudden silence for the end of his monologue.
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?”
The question was met with a stony silence. Eventually, Pru spoke, lips pursed and eyes narrowed.
“I’m from Chicago.” He replied with a dark finality.
The social workers, the government people, and now this guy. They all asked him this same crap. Who was his parents, what happened, how did he live after… after the murder. So many questions, repeated so many times. Eventually he had grown tired of the redundancy of it all.
And why should he have to tell this man that his family was dead? That it was bloody? That the trauma of that event caused him to go into a rage, burning down a block of residential housing. He killed two people that night. And the rest of his childhood, save the last year or so, was spent in the ring, sweating and bleeding. Fat, rich bastards like the one in front of him screamed bets and drank their expensive booze and bought exotic, super-powered whores younger than sixteen. No, he wasn’t going to tell this man those things. They were painful, ugly, but most of all made him want to kill something, and he had stopped doing that a long time ago.
The darkness in Pru’s gaze deepened.
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?”
“Plans…” He murmured under his breath. Pru had no idea what he wanted to do in the future. He wondered if this was a crucial bit of information, a make-it-or-break-it kind of thing. A school needed to be making an investment. That in mind, Pru tried to think of something he could say. What was normal in a school for freaks?
“College, I guess. And then… a job.” And then marriage. Then punk kids. Then wrinkles and laxatives and gardening, and eventually a grave. That was normal, wasn’t it? Average? Human? The thought of living a life like that was odd, alien compared to the majority of his past years, and Pru swallowed down a queasiness that he had never felt before. His frown deepened.
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.
Hobbies. Now, those were easier. Pru took note of the fat man’s burst of energy, wondering if it meant he did something good and kind of wishing he really cared. He pushed his mop of a hair cut back, but a shock of light brown fell back to his eyebrows.
“I play the guitar and I used to…” Hunt, Pru almost said, but then he realized that the kind of hunting he did was probably… messier than this man would appreciate. “Run.” He finished dully. At least he was actually good at that, so it was sort of only a half-lie. Pru almost snorted at the man’s next statement.
“Leaving won’t be a problem.”
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.
Child? Pru choked down a fresh dose of anger that threatened to bubble over and forced himself to think about the answer he would give.
Another personal question, but Pru was getting better at this whole interview thing. He had almost completely relaxed into his normal brooding self, the defensiveness in his attitude being replaced by his everyday quiet cynicism. He narrowed his eyes, thinking for a moment, and then looked back at the man with a raised eyebrow.
“I don’t really know… It’s a part of me, so I don’t question it.”
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.
“No. Thank you.” Pru said with such monotony that there was no question about his attitude. He received the handshake with a stiff reluctance, and then slid out the door, wondering how school life would feel like.
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[classy=app2]george. CST. male.[/classy]
[classy=apptite]FACE CLAIM [/classy]
[url=http://eoas2.proboards.com/index.cgi?action=display&board=finished&thread=403]ANTHON WELLSJO[/url]
