Realistic or Modern 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘂𝗻

[locked n loaded]

INES SUFFIELD
location: 12PM, Language Class ; mood: I'm Getting That Back

Ines feels like death. They might die if they have to sit through any more of the language class. Their mind shambles through the lecture like a shuffling corpse, their soul having long flown away to greener pastures, and their body isn't much better, taking notes in flourishes of gel pen with loose, absent-minded motions.

It'd be more convincing if the words weren't periodically interrupted by splashes of black. Though they lack the artistic talent to be called doodles, their intention is much the same—distraction. In that distraction, an idle motion sends one of their pens rolling off the desk. A sleek silver thing with a metal grip, swirling groves, and a shimmering blue cap.

Their fiddling pauses and grey eyes zone back to track its movement down the aisle.

Ignorant of the assignment being discussed, they lean forward and use ink-stained fingers—dots and lines stark against their middle and index—to tap the arm of the student sitting in front of them. It's a movement that ignores the ideas of subtlety and personal space, their palm practically cupping the other's shoulder.

"My pen rolled under your desk," they say, moving the offending hand even further to gesture toward the floor. "Could you get it for me? I don't really want to crawl around under there."

Though the instructors typically ignore their behavior, the fact that their arm is partially draped across the other is difficult to excuse. Luckily for Ines, it's masked by the movement of the class around them, with the other students having suddenly awoken from their slumber to exchange meaningful glances, shift in their seats, and commit similar breaches of propriety. Of course, they're interacting with friends. Ines's victim is nothing of the sort.

Still, they continue, blocking out the instructions that are being explained.

"I don't mind if you kick it over," they urge, and, as if the other hasn't heard, they lean in closer to make themself easier to understand, "but whatever you do, it should probably be before the class settles down and the teacher notices us."

coded by archangel_

 

[j.e.s.t.e.r]

ASH WHITLOCK

location: 12 pm, Language Class ; mood: really?

The class is too stupid, too boring. Ash already knows the material, and knows the english language of course. so, why do they have to learn it all over again? Really, this isn't a question for them. The only question is if the instructor would notice if they started dozing off or not.

The answer, of course, is no, the instructor would not notice. He is too busy teaching stupid things to stupid people.



So, here Ash is nearly asleep, curled up as much as he could in the uncomfortable chairs suit for a jail and room smelling nearly as rank as a teen boy's armpits. of course, Ash doesn't really know what those smell like (and they hopes he would never have to figure it out), which they decides was the better way to go.



Eventually, their sleep is interrupted with someone rather aggressively trying to get their attention. Ash looks up at whoever is interrupting the sleep they probably would not have gotten anyways.



"What do you want?" Ash's words are a low drawl, and they stare at the person whose arm is clasped rather uncomfortably on their shoulder. They halfheartedly listened before attempting to lean down. They look to the hand, which is still on their shoulder, pointedly. "I will get it, just please.. take your hand off of my shoulder."



Ash is acutely aware of the ink splotches seeping into their shoulder, as they had seen the person's hands before this all had happened. They wonder why this person was so intent on retrieving the pen, surely they have others.



Ash leans down and looks for the pen. "Where is it?" They ask, aware of how stupid they must look, on the ground searching for a pen while someone breaths down their neck.



Eventually, they find the pen and hand it to the person. "There." They say with a groan, looking around the classroom.

coded by archangel_

 

[locked n loaded]

INES SUFFIELD
location: 12PM, Language Class ; mood: Thanks, You're a Real One

The offending hand lifts, moving back to Ines's desk with an easy movement that ends with their elbow on the table and their cheek propped up against curled fingers. Despite the sweat that sours the air, they're unfazed by the idea of coming into contact with one of the possible sources of the stench. The other has never seemed particularly stinky from Ines's position seated directly behind them, and Ines is pleased to find that today is no different.

As for themself, they've never been someone who's had to worry about body odor. It's easy to solve the problem with a lightly applied deodorant and a touch of cologne, after all.

Allowing the other to solve the problem of their missing pen is equally simple, at least from Ines's perspective. Though their inquiry about its location is made in a pleasant drawl, there's hardly an address to describe that particular spot under the desk, and pointing for the back of the other's head would be meaningless.

No, Ines would rather wait and watch from their slouched position.

Indeed, it only takes a few seconds for the other to succeed and turn back, leaving Ines to straighten with a curve to their lips. "Thanks," they say, taking the pen back with a twirl. Though their eyes briefly follow its arc around their fingers, they look back to meet the other's gaze with an offer of thanks. "Feel free to hit me up if you want something from the snack bar during lunch."

A quick glance at the clock shows that there are only a few more minutes before lunch begins, leaving Ines to settle back into their seat with quiet satisfaction. Of course, while they may be content to watch that time fly by, the teacher isn't.

"Class may be over soon, but I want everyone to make the most of it," he says, giving a sharp clap of his hands. "Start working."

Face blank, Ines returns his hopes to the student sitting in front of him. Seeing the purpose in the other's searching eyes, they ask, "You know what that was about?"

coded by archangel_

 

[j.e.s.t.e.r]

ASH WHITLOCK
location: 12 pm, Language Class ; mood: this is stupid

"Alright, I may." Ash said with a small smile as they got up. They would appreciate some sort of food, although they never got too hungry. But, free food. No one could turn that down.

"Hell if I know what's going on. Was tryna sleep." They shrugged and rubbed the ink on their pant leg before tapping the shoulder of the person in front of them. Not as intrusive as the other had, but still rather impatient. The other looked up with a rather crude gesture and turned around. "What?"
"Was just tryna ask what we're doing." Ash responded, their voice flat and even, even though they were rather impatient. The girl in front of them rolled her eyes. "Just what's on the board. Notes, then solving the problem." They nodded. "Alright, thank you." And they turned to the person who had lost their pencil.

"Notes, solving the problem on the board. Do you need a piece of paper?" They asked as they reached into their own backpack for a notebook. Taking it out, they lazily ripped a piece out. Next out of the backpack came a short pencil with a stub of an eraser.

It was quick work writing the notes, the teacher's large handwriting took up most of the space. The struggle was the problem. Ash turned to the person behind them. "Do you know how to solve this?" They asked, showing them the paper. The handwriting had started off okay in the beginning of the notes, but it quickly got worse until it was nearly illiterate.

coded by archangel_

 

[locked n loaded]

INES SUFFIELD
location: 12PM, Language Class ; mood: If You're Happy, Don't Question It

Ines waits, content to allow Ash to solve their issue from them. It's impressive how quickly they manage to secure the cooperation of a girl with so much temper—almost as much as Ash themself, in fact. Their eyes crinkle in silent amusement at the comparison, that amusement lingering even as Ash turns around to repeat the findings that Ines has eavesdropped on.

They take a moment and appreciate the thought and the offer of paper before refusing it, their tone gentle. "No need," they say, lifting their hand to show their phone. "I got this." With a small movement, they angle it to snap a photo of the notes, finally shifting their attention away from Ash as they lower their head to check its quality.

Ines lets out a pleased hum, a soft noise that's covered by the hubbub in the room. It's quite good. A tuft of Ash's hair also happens to be in it, appearing as a small puff of brown at the very bottom. They don't think too much as their thumb taps on the icon of a heart and saves it for later.

After all, they have problems to be doing, especially with the real deal turned around to question them. Their handwriting is quite... questionable, but that's not a huge deal when most writing is done digitally nowadays.

"I'm not quite sure," Ines responds, tone almost flippant as they add, "but I can get the answers from my friends. If you want to give me your number or meet up later, I can pass them on."

The bell rings, and they quickly slide their materials into their bag—designer, with its small size made larger by the lack of items stored inside. With that speed, it's not long before they finish packing and stand to leave.

It's only as they wait, hovering beside Ash, that they suggest, "Though, we can compare answers if you like? I recognize the questions from the last test, so we might be able to piece something together."

coded by arch