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Fantasy Our name is The Gifted.
- Thread starter Valerian
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Valerian
New Member
The old house, with its wildly overgrown garden, was silent, secretive and one figure stood behind one of its many windows, watching. A strong wind was blowing. A crow flew above the house, then another, then a whole crowd of them chanting old songs of sorrows from times long dawned.
The figure behind the window faded.
The now quiet road that led to Leopoldsburg was barely detectable beneath layers of dust, sand, shrubs and leaves. Random pieces of long forgotten possessions litter the roads and wild, overgrown gardens within this town.
Some doors had collapsed or were perhaps destroyed by looters or animals as time passed. Either way they left a welcoming entrance for animals. Many walls and balconies had collapsed. Without proper maintenance and cleaning it was easy for rot and water to do their damage.
Leopoldsburg, once a peaceful and growing community had been forsaken and left to rot alone. The many voices of a once bustling community were replaced with the many voices of wild animals and stray pets that had made this town their new home.
The train station had collapsed and the tracks were covered in shrubs and fallen branches. Nobody was waiting for the next train anymore, no longer eagerly going to the next destination or waiting for those coming home.
Despite the many animals that inhabit this town it was still a very unsettling sight to behold. Nature had taken its toll on the vast majority of town. But even though many buildings had found a new purpose there was just no way this town's former self could ever be restored.
Somewhere, behind the bushes that enveloped a street, steps could be heard, signaling the presence of only two legs. An old house lay touched by the effects of time ahead of Hans. His eyes were fixed on it. He reached for his book, opened it, looked for the chapter placed within page 35 and inspected it, his heart inside of him beating as if trying to leap out of its socket. But he knew nothing was going to happen. They were his friends.
The figure behind the window faded.
The now quiet road that led to Leopoldsburg was barely detectable beneath layers of dust, sand, shrubs and leaves. Random pieces of long forgotten possessions litter the roads and wild, overgrown gardens within this town.
Some doors had collapsed or were perhaps destroyed by looters or animals as time passed. Either way they left a welcoming entrance for animals. Many walls and balconies had collapsed. Without proper maintenance and cleaning it was easy for rot and water to do their damage.
Leopoldsburg, once a peaceful and growing community had been forsaken and left to rot alone. The many voices of a once bustling community were replaced with the many voices of wild animals and stray pets that had made this town their new home.
The train station had collapsed and the tracks were covered in shrubs and fallen branches. Nobody was waiting for the next train anymore, no longer eagerly going to the next destination or waiting for those coming home.
Despite the many animals that inhabit this town it was still a very unsettling sight to behold. Nature had taken its toll on the vast majority of town. But even though many buildings had found a new purpose there was just no way this town's former self could ever be restored.
Somewhere, behind the bushes that enveloped a street, steps could be heard, signaling the presence of only two legs. An old house lay touched by the effects of time ahead of Hans. His eyes were fixed on it. He reached for his book, opened it, looked for the chapter placed within page 35 and inspected it, his heart inside of him beating as if trying to leap out of its socket. But he knew nothing was going to happen. They were his friends.
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diwa
hiraya manawari
Cordelia stretched her arms upward as soon as she stepdown from the plane. Eight hours. Eight freakin' hours of travel time from New York to Belgium where her new life is waiting for her. Eight hours of being cooped up inside the plane. Thanks to her dad's work, they were seated in the first class but she hated flying so much that she didn't even enjoy the perks of being seated in the expensive seat on the plane.
She took her antidepressants before boarding and followed by a chug of Mountain Dew. And just like magic, she was asleep after a couple of minutes after departure. She woke up sometime at dawn and the effects of her pills were starting to wear off. She wanted to ask for an alcoholic drink. A small bottle of gin or whiskey perhaps to help her sleep but her parents were with her and she didn't want them to think that she's spiraling down. Again. She wanted to risk and take another pill but too much antidepressants was making her head mushy that results to her having dreams of things that were better left in the past and also inside her head. So instead of catching another forty winks, Cordelia just closed her eyes and counted the minutes before their plane lands. The time drag on but finally, the sign to wear the seatbelts popped up and the captain's announcement welcoming them to Belgium filled her heart with delight..... and of course, anxiety.
—
Cordelia's dad ushered them towards the man holding a sign that says 'Erik Langdon' inside the airport. The man, in return, greeted them in english with a heavy european accent and introduces himself as Kristoff, their driver. She just smiled in return as he shook their hands politely.
The man asked them to follow him and follow they did. They were lead outside in front of a black town car and they rode it towards their next destination. Their car ride was more or less than an hour and all those time, Cordelia was quiet. Her mom tried to initiate some conversation and Cordelia was answering as curtly and as short as possible. Talking was making the butterflies in her stomach wild. Not a happy feeling at all.
Finally, their car stopped in front of victorian style house in some quiet neighborhood in some Belgian city that she's not sure how to pronounce yet. It is completed with the view of the woods in their backyard. Finally, her parents, along with Kristoff went out of the car with happy smiles and talked about how wonderful their new home is and how lovely it is to live in such place.
Cordelia doesn't want to go out of the car. She wondered silently as to how moving to a different house, a different country or moving to a different continent for that matter would change everything. Her twin sister died. Moving won't bring her back alive. Period. "No, it won't. But it can help us move on from the tragedy." She suddenly remembered what her mom said a long time ago.
She highly doubted that a fresh start would really help her out. Afterall, It wasn't just the tragedy that they're running away from. It's also about her and what happened after the death of her sister two years ago. "At least the people here won't know that you're a freak." A small voice on the back of her head said.
"Not yet." Cordelia answered it quietly before deciding to follow the grown ups inside the house. Her gloved hand gingerly opened the car door and she was greeted by a gentle breeze as soon as she stepped out. Her long blonde hair was blown lightly as if the place itself was telling her that everything will be alright even though she knew that somehow, at some point, her past would definitely catch up to her.
She took her antidepressants before boarding and followed by a chug of Mountain Dew. And just like magic, she was asleep after a couple of minutes after departure. She woke up sometime at dawn and the effects of her pills were starting to wear off. She wanted to ask for an alcoholic drink. A small bottle of gin or whiskey perhaps to help her sleep but her parents were with her and she didn't want them to think that she's spiraling down. Again. She wanted to risk and take another pill but too much antidepressants was making her head mushy that results to her having dreams of things that were better left in the past and also inside her head. So instead of catching another forty winks, Cordelia just closed her eyes and counted the minutes before their plane lands. The time drag on but finally, the sign to wear the seatbelts popped up and the captain's announcement welcoming them to Belgium filled her heart with delight..... and of course, anxiety.
—
Cordelia's dad ushered them towards the man holding a sign that says 'Erik Langdon' inside the airport. The man, in return, greeted them in english with a heavy european accent and introduces himself as Kristoff, their driver. She just smiled in return as he shook their hands politely.
The man asked them to follow him and follow they did. They were lead outside in front of a black town car and they rode it towards their next destination. Their car ride was more or less than an hour and all those time, Cordelia was quiet. Her mom tried to initiate some conversation and Cordelia was answering as curtly and as short as possible. Talking was making the butterflies in her stomach wild. Not a happy feeling at all.
Finally, their car stopped in front of victorian style house in some quiet neighborhood in some Belgian city that she's not sure how to pronounce yet. It is completed with the view of the woods in their backyard. Finally, her parents, along with Kristoff went out of the car with happy smiles and talked about how wonderful their new home is and how lovely it is to live in such place.
Cordelia doesn't want to go out of the car. She wondered silently as to how moving to a different house, a different country or moving to a different continent for that matter would change everything. Her twin sister died. Moving won't bring her back alive. Period. "No, it won't. But it can help us move on from the tragedy." She suddenly remembered what her mom said a long time ago.
She highly doubted that a fresh start would really help her out. Afterall, It wasn't just the tragedy that they're running away from. It's also about her and what happened after the death of her sister two years ago. "At least the people here won't know that you're a freak." A small voice on the back of her head said.
"Not yet." Cordelia answered it quietly before deciding to follow the grown ups inside the house. Her gloved hand gingerly opened the car door and she was greeted by a gentle breeze as soon as she stepped out. Her long blonde hair was blown lightly as if the place itself was telling her that everything will be alright even though she knew that somehow, at some point, her past would definitely catch up to her.
Valerian
New Member
Mr. Jansen reached for his ciggarette, and saw that it had burned down to a stub. He looked at it sadly, wondering if he could get one more drag off the thing, before giving up and crushing it out. He reached into his pocket for a new one, only to find the pack empty. He threw it away - in a barbaric manner. Clearly he was drunk. Like he had always been. Nothing could change him. Not even those progams that are run by people who made it out of the mazes of drinking and their saviors. No, not even his own son, Hans.
But just before the thing was about to land on the floor, the front door opened, Hans first, his backpack last. His eyes gaped as the empty pack smelling of puke hit his chest. It wasn't a bullet, so it didn't pierce him. Although that wasn't a relief, because just after getting reminded of his father's alcoholic nature, an invisible bullet was aimed at his heart, piercing the organ without mercy.
If there were any rights to protest against his father's own self, they were not there, not with him, and not with his father either. Mr. Jansen had always been an alcoholic. At least ever since they had their first serious talk. It has always saddened Hans that he had to see persons - dead persons - but nothing could top his sensitivy for his father's reaction and his following life after he had found out who his son is - or what he is, for that matter.
He strode to his room. It looked as if pigs had chosen his room as their new party location and thrown one in it. His clothes lay on the floor. One sock covered his TV like a bandage, apparently a result of having been thrown and sent flying across the room. His dishes screamed of being dirty. Hans peeked at one of them. The remains of the last night's French fries meal were still there, untouched, but less eatable than the last time he had been inside the room. And as to complete the frame, a sweet scent of sweatiness filled the room from end to end. This fucking sucks, he thought, a miracle in itself, for he never cared about the look of his room or at least ever realised that it needs tidying.
Although the miracle was short-spanned. He forgot about his room completely, instead focusing on unzipping his pack and taking out a book. It was big, bigger than his hands. Sweaty hands, that is. Sweaty and smelly. He touched the book in such manner as to not leave wet patches on its pages as he turned one by one (it seemed he cared more about this book than he did about his own room), in so rapid a speed that he seemed almost mad to himself and would to anyone - maybe except his nice friends. At last there it was, written in Latin, the title for which he was looking.
Voices suddenly filled up the room ever so loudly. They laughed. They almost seemed as if they were mocking him, their friend. But Hans didn't notice or care, never did. That was their way of communicating and he had grown used to it ever since the first day they had met. He was happy to help them.
The boy closed the door and locked it, his book clinging to one of his hands. It suddenly started raining. A storm was unleashing its rage upon the beautiful Belgian city of Ghent. Hans started chanting.
"Edo adsum."
"Hic es"
"Et nos unum sumus"
But just before the thing was about to land on the floor, the front door opened, Hans first, his backpack last. His eyes gaped as the empty pack smelling of puke hit his chest. It wasn't a bullet, so it didn't pierce him. Although that wasn't a relief, because just after getting reminded of his father's alcoholic nature, an invisible bullet was aimed at his heart, piercing the organ without mercy.
If there were any rights to protest against his father's own self, they were not there, not with him, and not with his father either. Mr. Jansen had always been an alcoholic. At least ever since they had their first serious talk. It has always saddened Hans that he had to see persons - dead persons - but nothing could top his sensitivy for his father's reaction and his following life after he had found out who his son is - or what he is, for that matter.
He strode to his room. It looked as if pigs had chosen his room as their new party location and thrown one in it. His clothes lay on the floor. One sock covered his TV like a bandage, apparently a result of having been thrown and sent flying across the room. His dishes screamed of being dirty. Hans peeked at one of them. The remains of the last night's French fries meal were still there, untouched, but less eatable than the last time he had been inside the room. And as to complete the frame, a sweet scent of sweatiness filled the room from end to end. This fucking sucks, he thought, a miracle in itself, for he never cared about the look of his room or at least ever realised that it needs tidying.
Although the miracle was short-spanned. He forgot about his room completely, instead focusing on unzipping his pack and taking out a book. It was big, bigger than his hands. Sweaty hands, that is. Sweaty and smelly. He touched the book in such manner as to not leave wet patches on its pages as he turned one by one (it seemed he cared more about this book than he did about his own room), in so rapid a speed that he seemed almost mad to himself and would to anyone - maybe except his nice friends. At last there it was, written in Latin, the title for which he was looking.
Voices suddenly filled up the room ever so loudly. They laughed. They almost seemed as if they were mocking him, their friend. But Hans didn't notice or care, never did. That was their way of communicating and he had grown used to it ever since the first day they had met. He was happy to help them.
The boy closed the door and locked it, his book clinging to one of his hands. It suddenly started raining. A storm was unleashing its rage upon the beautiful Belgian city of Ghent. Hans started chanting.
"Edo adsum."
"Hic es"
"Et nos unum sumus"
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diwa
hiraya manawari
Music blast through her earphones as she lie awake on her bed. Cordelia's new room was still bare and empty, though the cream colored wallpaper that she chose prior to moving was now safely plastered on the wall. Apart from the fluffy queen size bed with four post in one corner, towers of boxes filled with books and among other things was stack on the nearby corner waiting to be hung or reassembled. An antique looking vanity table occupied her room as well. It was probably from the previous occupant.
Cordelia tried to block out her surroundings when she suddenly felt a slightly hard tap on her leg. "What?" Cordelia groaned, removing her earphones from her ears.
"I've been calling for more than a couple of times now, hon." It was her mother holding a platter of biscuits alongside with a cup of tea. Her hair was tied up in a makeshift bandana. "You barely ate on the plane. Here... Have some snacks." Cordelia pulled herself up and prompted her body using her elbow. "Thanks." She quietly answered.
Her mother just smiled and went by the door but not without looking back with a slight scowl, "You do know that these boxes won't unpack themselves? We need to fix the house this week since you'll be starting school next week."
"Yes, yes." Cordelia sighed. "I'll do it." With one last lingering look, her mother closed the door behind her. Cordelia placed the half eaten biscuit back on the plate. The butterflies in her stomach are still agitated that she can't bear to eat anymore. Resuming to her position earlier, she put on her earphones again and closed her eyes.
--
"I'll do it later." Cordelia hissed suddenly when she felt another tap on her leg. It was more than ten minutes when her mother dropped by on her. Her eyes were still close and her surroundings were drowned by her loud music. "I promise, i'll do it later." She added but then the tap became incessant, "I said i'll do i—" she almost shouted angrily, pulling her earphones in the process but upon opening her eyes, she saw that she was alone.
She felt the temperature dropped around her. The hair on the back of her neck and her arms stood up from the cold. She could even see her breath. "No..." Cordelia said, her voice was quiet and almost pleading. "No." Hushed voices filled the air. At first it was quiet, and slow but after a few seconds, the voices turned harsh. It was as if they were cursing at her. All at once the voices was telling their own stories. Their miserable tales and heartbreaking lullabies. The accounts of the dead.
'Dead men tell no tales'. That saying was beyond wrong in so many levels. Actually the dead are quite chatty and loud compared to living humans. Cordelia can vouch for that. For some reason, her near death experience woke some dormant ability in her. The accident that nearly took her life and successfully killed her twin sister opened something. A portal that she doesn't want to be opened. An ability that she doesn't want to use. The accident turned her into some kind of a ...freak.
Cordelia tried to gather her composure. The voices were easier to block when she's cheerful, calm, awake or busy. True enough that the voices are there constantly, but when she's focusing on different things and channeling her mind on some errands or task, the voices were nothing but a whisper in the background.
She immediately plugged her earphones on and scroll the music volume into full. The sound of guitars and drums along with the voices she can't quite understand filled her head. Cordelia started humming, then singing. It was tough since the louder her voice is, the louder the voices of dead seems to be.
"So angels, angels please just keep on fighting. Angels don't give up on me today
'Cause the demons they are there, they just keep biting. 'Cause inner demons just won't go away." Cordelia started singing, words were coming out of her mouth quicker than what it should be. Her eyes were tightly shut while both of her hands were pressing her earphones in. "So angels please, hear my prayer. Life is pain, life's not fair..."
The girl stopped abruptly. The song went on but the voices... they were gone. Inch by inch, Cordelia opened her eyes only to be greeted by an almost disheveled and very pale face of a man just a couple of inch away and staring right at her. Cordelia didn't scream nor reacted as she gaze back to the glazed and milky eyes of the dead of the man. He looked like he was half grinning for she could see the skeleton on the other half of its face. Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes again and upon opening them, the figure in front of her disappeared. Tears suddenly started streaming down from her eyes, followed by silent sobbing.
Concentrating was one of the tricks to keep the dead away. Sometimes it is easy ignoring them but there are others who're very persistent. Others are even hurting her if she doesn't listen. The dead are just attention seekers. After recovering from the shock, Cordelia jumped out of bed and started rummaging through her boxes. Tossing one thing from another until she finally found a certain wind chime tucked away in some random box. It was mostly crystals with sigils and feathers but it was made by a legit gris-gris queen down in New Orleans when she visited the state one time ago. It was said to keep the dead away and true to her words, when the chime is hanging in her room, the dead stayed silent and away from her. She actually bought three before they went out of the country.
Not waiting for another surge of calls from the dead, Cordelia set on to work and started hanging the chimes. She place one on her room before going down to the front porch to hang one as well as in the backyard, silently hoping that the dead won't figure out how to pass the borders of the chimes.
Cordelia tried to block out her surroundings when she suddenly felt a slightly hard tap on her leg. "What?" Cordelia groaned, removing her earphones from her ears.
"I've been calling for more than a couple of times now, hon." It was her mother holding a platter of biscuits alongside with a cup of tea. Her hair was tied up in a makeshift bandana. "You barely ate on the plane. Here... Have some snacks." Cordelia pulled herself up and prompted her body using her elbow. "Thanks." She quietly answered.
Her mother just smiled and went by the door but not without looking back with a slight scowl, "You do know that these boxes won't unpack themselves? We need to fix the house this week since you'll be starting school next week."
"Yes, yes." Cordelia sighed. "I'll do it." With one last lingering look, her mother closed the door behind her. Cordelia placed the half eaten biscuit back on the plate. The butterflies in her stomach are still agitated that she can't bear to eat anymore. Resuming to her position earlier, she put on her earphones again and closed her eyes.
--
"I'll do it later." Cordelia hissed suddenly when she felt another tap on her leg. It was more than ten minutes when her mother dropped by on her. Her eyes were still close and her surroundings were drowned by her loud music. "I promise, i'll do it later." She added but then the tap became incessant, "I said i'll do i—" she almost shouted angrily, pulling her earphones in the process but upon opening her eyes, she saw that she was alone.
She felt the temperature dropped around her. The hair on the back of her neck and her arms stood up from the cold. She could even see her breath. "No..." Cordelia said, her voice was quiet and almost pleading. "No." Hushed voices filled the air. At first it was quiet, and slow but after a few seconds, the voices turned harsh. It was as if they were cursing at her. All at once the voices was telling their own stories. Their miserable tales and heartbreaking lullabies. The accounts of the dead.
'Dead men tell no tales'. That saying was beyond wrong in so many levels. Actually the dead are quite chatty and loud compared to living humans. Cordelia can vouch for that. For some reason, her near death experience woke some dormant ability in her. The accident that nearly took her life and successfully killed her twin sister opened something. A portal that she doesn't want to be opened. An ability that she doesn't want to use. The accident turned her into some kind of a ...freak.
Cordelia tried to gather her composure. The voices were easier to block when she's cheerful, calm, awake or busy. True enough that the voices are there constantly, but when she's focusing on different things and channeling her mind on some errands or task, the voices were nothing but a whisper in the background.
She immediately plugged her earphones on and scroll the music volume into full. The sound of guitars and drums along with the voices she can't quite understand filled her head. Cordelia started humming, then singing. It was tough since the louder her voice is, the louder the voices of dead seems to be.
"So angels, angels please just keep on fighting. Angels don't give up on me today
'Cause the demons they are there, they just keep biting. 'Cause inner demons just won't go away." Cordelia started singing, words were coming out of her mouth quicker than what it should be. Her eyes were tightly shut while both of her hands were pressing her earphones in. "So angels please, hear my prayer. Life is pain, life's not fair..."
The girl stopped abruptly. The song went on but the voices... they were gone. Inch by inch, Cordelia opened her eyes only to be greeted by an almost disheveled and very pale face of a man just a couple of inch away and staring right at her. Cordelia didn't scream nor reacted as she gaze back to the glazed and milky eyes of the dead of the man. He looked like he was half grinning for she could see the skeleton on the other half of its face. Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes again and upon opening them, the figure in front of her disappeared. Tears suddenly started streaming down from her eyes, followed by silent sobbing.
Concentrating was one of the tricks to keep the dead away. Sometimes it is easy ignoring them but there are others who're very persistent. Others are even hurting her if she doesn't listen. The dead are just attention seekers. After recovering from the shock, Cordelia jumped out of bed and started rummaging through her boxes. Tossing one thing from another until she finally found a certain wind chime tucked away in some random box. It was mostly crystals with sigils and feathers but it was made by a legit gris-gris queen down in New Orleans when she visited the state one time ago. It was said to keep the dead away and true to her words, when the chime is hanging in her room, the dead stayed silent and away from her. She actually bought three before they went out of the country.
Not waiting for another surge of calls from the dead, Cordelia set on to work and started hanging the chimes. She place one on her room before going down to the front porch to hang one as well as in the backyard, silently hoping that the dead won't figure out how to pass the borders of the chimes.
Valerian
New Member
A sharp pain struck his chest from deep within. One hand reached for the stability of a fence while the other clasped his chest in agony. Every part of his being ached for an answer to this feeling of misery and any answer that could bring relief was one worth considering. The road ahead was a tough one and right now Hans wasn't sure whether he was willing to walk it, let alone whether he was able.
Fighting through the pain was becoming increasingly difficult, but above all else it became increasingly annoying to have to deal with. But after a few more moments of pure focus he managed to block out the pain enough to make it nothing more than a minor annoyance. It was going to last a while, but Hans would manage.
It was autumn and he was slowly pacing through a road surrounded by trees, their falling leaves creating a floor above the ground. Hans was stepping on it and accompanied by a cracking sound each time he touched the yellow-like layer.
A variation of wild noises, most belonged to herds of larger animals, reverberated through the air, and were out of sync with the splashing of fish in a nearby river.
A war had been going on in his mind. It was a ravaged battlefield. Two sides were fighting: himself and his other self.
No sides, so far, seemed to be in a superiour position. They were in a stalemate. Each faction had a goal of its own - a nice part of him still wanted to help them; the other couldn't stand that anymore.
For a breath's moment, Hans could no longer see anything but him falling down in the big sea of autumn leaves and then nothing; darkness. He really looked like a battlefield now, laying still on the ground, seeing darkness, no future. But Hans was still awake, somehow. Only he couldn't move and control his arms, legs, eyes or his body as a whole. He felt trapped. A hand reached out from nowhere and touched his own that lay on the ground, yellow leaves covering it like gloves. He half-expected it.
Upon the touch, his powers came back flowing through him, his eyes opening, his body raising almost by itself. Hans didn't feel any more pain. That was good.
A few yards away he sat down and watched the quiet river, thinking of what he should or must do next. But a voice came from his back, coming to him so quickly almost as though wanting to enter his head and exit it through his forehead. It had an evil touch to it, which was scary enough to scare anyone but not enough so to do so with Hans.
"Do not falter."
Even though his life was crappy, he decided he would not. Yet another voice stroke him, and this time coming from within: "Don't forget who you are, Hans!"
He thought: Who am I? And then the latter voice came back to him and completed his own thought, giving it power and creating a lyric out of it: "- but a slave?" Yes, he was a slave, he thought. Hans could not bear that anymore. The war was almost concluded.
But a sword of pain struck him from behind. He screamed, but not losing control. He raised himself up and turned.
What he saw would stir fear in even the bravest. But he didn't even take in the look of his opponent, he instead took in his current powers. With the power of the second voice and his own he at last said: "Begone!' And after a second, gone it was. Where a big, evil creature stood now was the untouched floor of dead leaves and more falling from the sky.
At a faster pace than before, Hans was walking back home. The pain was somehow still there, yet not even remotely as strong as it had been. It started raining. Luckily, he was wearing a hoodie and blue jeans. And the wild road once covered by trees seems to have led back to civilization, because now it was surrounded by tall houses, the style of which being old but at the same time somehow still modern.
His mind was more clear now. But it became less so when, through a window, he saw a girl who looked maybe the same age as him or even younger; young, nonetheless. There was a somehow creepy look on her face. But that's not what Hans saw. He saw the face of a desperate girl, one seeking help, one seeking a certain someone to go through her sorrow with. At last they locked eyes. Her gaze told everything about her. Hans's heart jumped, his eyebrows slightly raised. She was holding something. At first it looked like something decorative. But Hans realised it was more than that. He knew why she was carrying it. Although everything lasted just as long as a few moments. His head turned back and he faced the street once again, leaving behind a desperate girl, who's been so lonely trying to face the restless spirits of her own world - or of the afterlife one.
Fighting through the pain was becoming increasingly difficult, but above all else it became increasingly annoying to have to deal with. But after a few more moments of pure focus he managed to block out the pain enough to make it nothing more than a minor annoyance. It was going to last a while, but Hans would manage.
It was autumn and he was slowly pacing through a road surrounded by trees, their falling leaves creating a floor above the ground. Hans was stepping on it and accompanied by a cracking sound each time he touched the yellow-like layer.
A variation of wild noises, most belonged to herds of larger animals, reverberated through the air, and were out of sync with the splashing of fish in a nearby river.
A war had been going on in his mind. It was a ravaged battlefield. Two sides were fighting: himself and his other self.
No sides, so far, seemed to be in a superiour position. They were in a stalemate. Each faction had a goal of its own - a nice part of him still wanted to help them; the other couldn't stand that anymore.
For a breath's moment, Hans could no longer see anything but him falling down in the big sea of autumn leaves and then nothing; darkness. He really looked like a battlefield now, laying still on the ground, seeing darkness, no future. But Hans was still awake, somehow. Only he couldn't move and control his arms, legs, eyes or his body as a whole. He felt trapped. A hand reached out from nowhere and touched his own that lay on the ground, yellow leaves covering it like gloves. He half-expected it.
Upon the touch, his powers came back flowing through him, his eyes opening, his body raising almost by itself. Hans didn't feel any more pain. That was good.
A few yards away he sat down and watched the quiet river, thinking of what he should or must do next. But a voice came from his back, coming to him so quickly almost as though wanting to enter his head and exit it through his forehead. It had an evil touch to it, which was scary enough to scare anyone but not enough so to do so with Hans.
"Do not falter."
Even though his life was crappy, he decided he would not. Yet another voice stroke him, and this time coming from within: "Don't forget who you are, Hans!"
He thought: Who am I? And then the latter voice came back to him and completed his own thought, giving it power and creating a lyric out of it: "- but a slave?" Yes, he was a slave, he thought. Hans could not bear that anymore. The war was almost concluded.
But a sword of pain struck him from behind. He screamed, but not losing control. He raised himself up and turned.
What he saw would stir fear in even the bravest. But he didn't even take in the look of his opponent, he instead took in his current powers. With the power of the second voice and his own he at last said: "Begone!' And after a second, gone it was. Where a big, evil creature stood now was the untouched floor of dead leaves and more falling from the sky.
At a faster pace than before, Hans was walking back home. The pain was somehow still there, yet not even remotely as strong as it had been. It started raining. Luckily, he was wearing a hoodie and blue jeans. And the wild road once covered by trees seems to have led back to civilization, because now it was surrounded by tall houses, the style of which being old but at the same time somehow still modern.
His mind was more clear now. But it became less so when, through a window, he saw a girl who looked maybe the same age as him or even younger; young, nonetheless. There was a somehow creepy look on her face. But that's not what Hans saw. He saw the face of a desperate girl, one seeking help, one seeking a certain someone to go through her sorrow with. At last they locked eyes. Her gaze told everything about her. Hans's heart jumped, his eyebrows slightly raised. She was holding something. At first it looked like something decorative. But Hans realised it was more than that. He knew why she was carrying it. Although everything lasted just as long as a few moments. His head turned back and he faced the street once again, leaving behind a desperate girl, who's been so lonely trying to face the restless spirits of her own world - or of the afterlife one.
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diwa
hiraya manawari
There was no sudden surge of power or any indicator that the charm worked or whatsoever as soon as she was done hanging the last piece of the chime in the front porch of their house. The only feeling she had that moment was the sense of clarity and ease. No spirits are murmuring and whispering. At least not beside her. She can still hear the dead but it was more of a faint whispers while they stand and wander, scattered and uncertain, as to where they're going or what they're doing.
In all honesty, no one can really silence the dead. Sure, they can cross over to the 'light' but they can still come back. Those murder suspects who confessed because their conscience told them to? It wasn't exactly their conscience per se, it was actually the spirits who constantly nags them. They have 'ties' with their suspects for they're the ones who ended their life and took their 'essence' away from them.
The more gruesome it is, the more reason that the spirits will be likely to be tethered to that person.
And some spirits doesn't even realize that they're dead. Poor souls. Forever trapped in an unending limbo. Wandering about hither and thither while waiting for someone to tell them that they're already dead. Aside from hearing them, Cordelia has the ability to see them as well. Some spirits look like they were straight out of horror flicks, but some look normal, aside from chalky complexion and slightly blank expression, they can pass as a normal and regular human. If... If people aside from her can see them.
At least now, the whispers were nothing more like the blowing of the wind. The gris-gris queen of New Orleans was really confident when she handed those charms to her. Those simple crystals were bounded by some deep blood magic that Cordelia can't comprehend, or she just doesn't want to. The queen even said that it was Papa Legba, the intermediary between the loa and humanity, the man who's basically the gatekeeper for the souls in the other realm, is the one who blessed those charms she placed on the chimes and the feathers that she used was from chicken and peacocks that was selected by the gatekeeper himself.
So far... Cordelia believed all that crap but when she asked the queen as to why she suddenly possessed that kind of ability, the queen wasn't able to provide a direct answer. "Papa Legba has special plans for you. He favors you, girl." She remembered the queen's cryptic answer. Cordelia decided that if she ever saw the gatekeeper, she'll throw a punch or two.
That afternoon, her parents decided to explore the town, they were in need of supplies after all. With the help of their new friend/chauffer, Kristoff, her parents went out. They even tried to convince her to go with them, but she politely decline saying that she has jetlag.
As soon as her parents left, instead of staying in, Cordelia tested the boundary and limit of her charms.
The gris-gris queen gave her an additional protection, it was a penny shapes lapis lazuli with some symbols that was written in a circular manner. It was blessed in the same shrine where the chimes were made and she keeps them in her possession at all times. The queen said that it was supposed to keep the spirits from swarming and overwhelming her. Spirits can sense someone who can hear them, and as soon as they figured out that an individual knows they exist, the effects can be overwhelming. The spirits talk and project their emotions, their story, their pain, suffering and heartbreak, not totally caring if they're doing it all at once. As soon as one spirit figured it out, the rest will follow and swarm. Cordelia used to have fainting spells and chills when that usually happens to her before she procured the charms.
The drizzle stopped her from doing her little adventure. But instead of going back in, Cordelia just stayed on their front porch, sitting on the steps while palming the lapiz lazuli in her hands while looking at the humans, dead or alive, passing on the street.
In all honesty, no one can really silence the dead. Sure, they can cross over to the 'light' but they can still come back. Those murder suspects who confessed because their conscience told them to? It wasn't exactly their conscience per se, it was actually the spirits who constantly nags them. They have 'ties' with their suspects for they're the ones who ended their life and took their 'essence' away from them.
The more gruesome it is, the more reason that the spirits will be likely to be tethered to that person.
And some spirits doesn't even realize that they're dead. Poor souls. Forever trapped in an unending limbo. Wandering about hither and thither while waiting for someone to tell them that they're already dead. Aside from hearing them, Cordelia has the ability to see them as well. Some spirits look like they were straight out of horror flicks, but some look normal, aside from chalky complexion and slightly blank expression, they can pass as a normal and regular human. If... If people aside from her can see them.
At least now, the whispers were nothing more like the blowing of the wind. The gris-gris queen of New Orleans was really confident when she handed those charms to her. Those simple crystals were bounded by some deep blood magic that Cordelia can't comprehend, or she just doesn't want to. The queen even said that it was Papa Legba, the intermediary between the loa and humanity, the man who's basically the gatekeeper for the souls in the other realm, is the one who blessed those charms she placed on the chimes and the feathers that she used was from chicken and peacocks that was selected by the gatekeeper himself.
So far... Cordelia believed all that crap but when she asked the queen as to why she suddenly possessed that kind of ability, the queen wasn't able to provide a direct answer. "Papa Legba has special plans for you. He favors you, girl." She remembered the queen's cryptic answer. Cordelia decided that if she ever saw the gatekeeper, she'll throw a punch or two.
That afternoon, her parents decided to explore the town, they were in need of supplies after all. With the help of their new friend/chauffer, Kristoff, her parents went out. They even tried to convince her to go with them, but she politely decline saying that she has jetlag.
As soon as her parents left, instead of staying in, Cordelia tested the boundary and limit of her charms.
The gris-gris queen gave her an additional protection, it was a penny shapes lapis lazuli with some symbols that was written in a circular manner. It was blessed in the same shrine where the chimes were made and she keeps them in her possession at all times. The queen said that it was supposed to keep the spirits from swarming and overwhelming her. Spirits can sense someone who can hear them, and as soon as they figured out that an individual knows they exist, the effects can be overwhelming. The spirits talk and project their emotions, their story, their pain, suffering and heartbreak, not totally caring if they're doing it all at once. As soon as one spirit figured it out, the rest will follow and swarm. Cordelia used to have fainting spells and chills when that usually happens to her before she procured the charms.
The drizzle stopped her from doing her little adventure. But instead of going back in, Cordelia just stayed on their front porch, sitting on the steps while palming the lapiz lazuli in her hands while looking at the humans, dead or alive, passing on the street.
Valerian
New Member
In the northern corner of the Belgian city of Ghent, choirs of birds could be heard singing, trees could be seen shaking and a house, just as big as any of its neighbouring buildings - but more beautiful - could be admired by any passing tourist for looking so old, so breath-taking and equally European, standing tall and proud, just like any villa of a long dead victorian noble who's taken the plunge and left for America together with his family. The garden surrounding it was filled with flowers and a bunch of trees which were about to be sucked of their green colours in the months to come. It was the beginning of autumn. A small paved road connected the street with the entrance to the house. The overall sight was welcoming - at least to anyone clueless of what out-of-the-world things used to happen inside months ago. It was morning and yet another lively day - almost - as today was the first school day country-wide.
And there lay Hans, covered by a blue blanket, eyes closed and just approaching the end of that night's nightmare. At last his heart jumped. His eyes opened and they were soon greeted by the first rays of the Sun in the earliest period of the day. He didn't feel too well. It took one minute of arranging itself in his head for his consciousness to show its first signals. And only after a few minutes more was he able to think like a sober person would. I've got school today. He sat up, then thought. Can't say I didn't miss it. He had his own reasons for that. And they were fair reasons.
After he dressed up and told good-bye to nobody, Hans opened the front door and allowed the trail that led to school to bring him there. Along the route, nothing was special and everything was usual. Like always. He didn't pay too much attention to that. He didn't even pay attention to his walking. He was so used to going to school that his legs moved by themselves. And lo and behold, there he was, in front of the school's gates. They weren't taller than him. Not as tall as him even. They were opened. Surprisingly, there were no students around it, nor farther up in the school yard; no one was getting in, no one was getting out. The only pieces of meat present were just two guards idly standing and gazing at him in a manner that said 'You're late'. Hans was aware of that too. He didn't need confirmation. Walking through the yard, he headed towards the main building, where he would, with silent steps, walk through its main hall and politely knock at his class's door. The door opened, revealing an old man with an attitude suggesting his important status. Fortunately for the late student, it seemed that Mr. Goossens didn't seem to have the intention of having a go at him. He instead smiled and allowed the student to come in.
Everybody was staring at Hans. For him, this was nothing to be nervous about. He seated himself and looked around. Everything was usual but for this one girl, whose seat was placed just by an opened window. He couldn't have a good view of her features from his place, but nonetheless, she was new. Everyone was talking. And even he was doing it when his bench mate hit him up. But after a few minutes, Mr. Goossens at last spoke and the room fell dead silent:
"Welcome back to school, students", said he, then peered at Cordelia "And welcome to our school, Cordelia." He coughed then said: "Raise yourself up and tell us about yourself!"
He smiled.
And there lay Hans, covered by a blue blanket, eyes closed and just approaching the end of that night's nightmare. At last his heart jumped. His eyes opened and they were soon greeted by the first rays of the Sun in the earliest period of the day. He didn't feel too well. It took one minute of arranging itself in his head for his consciousness to show its first signals. And only after a few minutes more was he able to think like a sober person would. I've got school today. He sat up, then thought. Can't say I didn't miss it. He had his own reasons for that. And they were fair reasons.
After he dressed up and told good-bye to nobody, Hans opened the front door and allowed the trail that led to school to bring him there. Along the route, nothing was special and everything was usual. Like always. He didn't pay too much attention to that. He didn't even pay attention to his walking. He was so used to going to school that his legs moved by themselves. And lo and behold, there he was, in front of the school's gates. They weren't taller than him. Not as tall as him even. They were opened. Surprisingly, there were no students around it, nor farther up in the school yard; no one was getting in, no one was getting out. The only pieces of meat present were just two guards idly standing and gazing at him in a manner that said 'You're late'. Hans was aware of that too. He didn't need confirmation. Walking through the yard, he headed towards the main building, where he would, with silent steps, walk through its main hall and politely knock at his class's door. The door opened, revealing an old man with an attitude suggesting his important status. Fortunately for the late student, it seemed that Mr. Goossens didn't seem to have the intention of having a go at him. He instead smiled and allowed the student to come in.
Everybody was staring at Hans. For him, this was nothing to be nervous about. He seated himself and looked around. Everything was usual but for this one girl, whose seat was placed just by an opened window. He couldn't have a good view of her features from his place, but nonetheless, she was new. Everyone was talking. And even he was doing it when his bench mate hit him up. But after a few minutes, Mr. Goossens at last spoke and the room fell dead silent:
"Welcome back to school, students", said he, then peered at Cordelia "And welcome to our school, Cordelia." He coughed then said: "Raise yourself up and tell us about yourself!"
He smiled.
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diwa
hiraya manawari
Like always, Cordelia’s nights were always drowned with nightmares. Flashing lights at first, then the never ending darkness with voices echoing all over. Then before the ending of her nightmare, there’s usually a light at the end. It was kinda like goading her and taunting her since no matter how long she walks towards it, she never, not once for two years, reached it. And after that tiresome night, she always woken up by her heart beating faster like she was just finished running. Cordelia wanted to think that the light is some kind of a paradise. Like it was what the people see before they die. The peace and tranquility. But then a thought graze her mind, that maybe it is hellfire. And maybe she will not like what she’ll see if she managed to reach the end.
---
Donning a cream colored cardigan over her black flowery knee high dress, Cordelia stepped out of her father’s car with a wry smile to her dad before turning her back and proceeded to the front gates of the school. The school was not more than 20 minutes away by car from their place, 30 minutes if she’s just walking, and her dad insisted on taking her to school. He pointed out that he will not let her walk alone, especially since she’s not that familiar with the place yet. It was that, or her dad will have the school bus take her there. Cordelia would rather deal with the dead than ride the bus so she agreed.
She kept her head down, hoping that she’ll blend in but once or twice (or probably more than that), people on the hallways gawked at her. Conversation stops as soon as she passed by them and upon turning her back, voices would resume. Yep. Highschool are just like the dead. Always whispering and huddled up in the corner. And speaking of, dead still lingers around the school. Standing in the corners. Sitting on the bleachers. The energy and emotions draw them to places. One more thing was proven though, her charm works. The lapis lazuli that she was palming is making the spirits stay away.
After a quick visit from the guidance office, (the nice old lady gave her her schedules, school map, locker number and combo, also a slip that her professors need to sign and by the end of the day given back to her. She was definitely glad that she was speaking English.) Cordelia plotted her way and followed it straight to her room.
Eyes followed her again as soon as she stepped in. Instead of smiling, she kept her head down like earlier and walk straight towards the first vacant seat she saw by the window. She could feel her cheeks burning just like the eyes that was staring at her. It wasn’t like this before, Cordelia was into every extracurricular activity from her previous school. She was even the captain of the cheerleading club and the theater club. But the accident made her recluse and aloof. And Cordelia didn’t care. Withdrawing from everything and giving up everything she worked hard for was not her major problem at that moment.
Minutes passed when the teacher finally arrived. Students greeted him good morning in Dutch and the good hearted man greeted them back as he scanned the crowd. A young man was the last one to enter the classroom, her blue eyes look upon him but Cordelia drifted her gaze back to the professor once he saw her looking.
"Welcome back to school, students", the professor started again with a jubilant smile. "And welcome to our school, Cordelia." He smiled directly at her. Cordelia honestly thought that that was it,that he would start talking about the syllabi for that year, but then he coughed and added. "Raise yourself up and tell us about yourself!"
She was not definitely ready for that. Nonetheless, Cordelia stood up, still palming the lapis lazuli on her right hand. “My name is Cordelia.” She said quietly but she felt her voice rang. Everything way alright for a moment but then something caught her eye. A woman, almost translucent, was standing in the corner wearing a vintage dress, it was beautiful except her throat was cut wide open and blood was dripping out of her. It took almost everything for Cordelia not to scream. She immediately looked away, “Cordelia Langdon. A pleasure meeting you all.” She added with a small smile, though the way she said it, it was as if scripted and strain. The blonde hastily sat back down, her hands palming the lapis lazuli charm so hard that it was denting her palm.
“Okay.” Mr. Goossens finally said after a couple of seconds. He force on a smile as he went back on his table and grab some papers that he handed out to everyone. “So, let’s talk about the lessons.” He said, still with his good hearted grin.
---
Donning a cream colored cardigan over her black flowery knee high dress, Cordelia stepped out of her father’s car with a wry smile to her dad before turning her back and proceeded to the front gates of the school. The school was not more than 20 minutes away by car from their place, 30 minutes if she’s just walking, and her dad insisted on taking her to school. He pointed out that he will not let her walk alone, especially since she’s not that familiar with the place yet. It was that, or her dad will have the school bus take her there. Cordelia would rather deal with the dead than ride the bus so she agreed.
She kept her head down, hoping that she’ll blend in but once or twice (or probably more than that), people on the hallways gawked at her. Conversation stops as soon as she passed by them and upon turning her back, voices would resume. Yep. Highschool are just like the dead. Always whispering and huddled up in the corner. And speaking of, dead still lingers around the school. Standing in the corners. Sitting on the bleachers. The energy and emotions draw them to places. One more thing was proven though, her charm works. The lapis lazuli that she was palming is making the spirits stay away.
After a quick visit from the guidance office, (the nice old lady gave her her schedules, school map, locker number and combo, also a slip that her professors need to sign and by the end of the day given back to her. She was definitely glad that she was speaking English.) Cordelia plotted her way and followed it straight to her room.
Eyes followed her again as soon as she stepped in. Instead of smiling, she kept her head down like earlier and walk straight towards the first vacant seat she saw by the window. She could feel her cheeks burning just like the eyes that was staring at her. It wasn’t like this before, Cordelia was into every extracurricular activity from her previous school. She was even the captain of the cheerleading club and the theater club. But the accident made her recluse and aloof. And Cordelia didn’t care. Withdrawing from everything and giving up everything she worked hard for was not her major problem at that moment.
Minutes passed when the teacher finally arrived. Students greeted him good morning in Dutch and the good hearted man greeted them back as he scanned the crowd. A young man was the last one to enter the classroom, her blue eyes look upon him but Cordelia drifted her gaze back to the professor once he saw her looking.
"Welcome back to school, students", the professor started again with a jubilant smile. "And welcome to our school, Cordelia." He smiled directly at her. Cordelia honestly thought that that was it,that he would start talking about the syllabi for that year, but then he coughed and added. "Raise yourself up and tell us about yourself!"
She was not definitely ready for that. Nonetheless, Cordelia stood up, still palming the lapis lazuli on her right hand. “My name is Cordelia.” She said quietly but she felt her voice rang. Everything way alright for a moment but then something caught her eye. A woman, almost translucent, was standing in the corner wearing a vintage dress, it was beautiful except her throat was cut wide open and blood was dripping out of her. It took almost everything for Cordelia not to scream. She immediately looked away, “Cordelia Langdon. A pleasure meeting you all.” She added with a small smile, though the way she said it, it was as if scripted and strain. The blonde hastily sat back down, her hands palming the lapis lazuli charm so hard that it was denting her palm.
“Okay.” Mr. Goossens finally said after a couple of seconds. He force on a smile as he went back on his table and grab some papers that he handed out to everyone. “So, let’s talk about the lessons.” He said, still with his good hearted grin.
Valerian
New Member
The room was cold. Or was it warm? Hans couldn't tell. He would not realize the temperature even if he were at the north pole - or the equator, for that matter. Written on the class's board with white chalk were the big letters 'Welkom terug op school' (Welcome back to school). He looked at them, thinking; in a school, even a person like him was welcome. But a stronger thought erupted over all the others. White chalk... White, he thought. The color reminded him of winter, of snow, of endless layers of white that were always there during winter, covering everything like it was their job. So the room is cold, after a- And then out of the blue, Mr. Goossens spoke:
"Welcome back to school, students." [...] "Cordelia, raise yourself up and tell us about yourself!"
He flinched when the teacher asked Cordelia to introduce herself. He rubbed his eyes - he didn't sleep much - and focused his stare. At last she did as was told - rose herself up. Her body language suggested shyness, but her elegance suggested classiness. Hans found himself gaping at her, like everybody else in the room, taking in everything that was visible from his seat. So, she's a shy girl but doesn't dress the part. How interesting. Suddenly he felt something. It was radiating from her. But his realization was interrupted as soon as Cordelia spoke, her accent American, her Dutch OK (Flemish was American friendly, anyway) : "Mijn naam is Cordelia." Cordelia? Hmm. But suddenly, a shock shifted her face expression. Hans couldn't see much of it, but knew it was there from the moment it appeared - and boy - did it make his brain raise questions. He turned his head to see where she was looking and found himself looking at one corner of the room, confused. Is she afraid of shame corners? Childish questions popped up in his head until a sudden epiphany stroke him. Wait - could she be ..? But once again, his thoughts were interrupted by Goossens, whose native language was Dutch:
"So, let's talk about lessons!" He smiled, yet knowing his students would not.
Everybody in the class sighed. What a bad joke! 'Jeez', came a voice. 'But school has barely started', came another. Hans found himself not caring, instead being more concerned about the strange presence he too had started feeling. But anyway, had he not been busy, he would've smiled - for him school was a better thing than chit-chatting with creatures from other realms, whose existance he had been aware of ever since he was born. The teacher looked disappointed. But after a few moments Mr. Goossens got reminded of himself as a child and of that he used to be like them too, then he understood. Before more protesting voices could come, he said:
"Alright. Then let's hear the summer holiday stories." He smiled, knowing he had already managed to restore at least half of the class's sense of positiveness.
But there was no positiveness within Hans. He was actually desperate. Who was that girl? What was that which both of them had been looking at? So many questions. And it was just the first day of school.
He felt he should know more. And what better source of information at this moment than Cordelia herself? Yes, I will talk to her.
After an hour of boring talk - seriously, nobody was interested in hearing each other's tedious summer stories - the school's bell rang. Lunch time, at last!
Seated in his bench, Hans was looking at Cordelia, his gaze weighing her actions carefully. He wasn't interested in eating any more than finding out about her and potentially confirming his hypothesis. At last she stood up and by the time she had left the classroom, Hans made up his mind. He took the plunge and followed her up to the canteen, where he stopped, pretending to be texting on his phone. After she had gotten her packed meal, it appeared to Hans she was heading for the first bench from room's only window. Hans thought it odd. Her classroom seat was also placed next to a window.
Putting his phone back in his pocket, he walked towards her table. But suddenly, three of his classmates - Sophie, Emma and Sara - sat down beside her; all four of them now standing over the same table.
He could think of nothing but: F*ck!
"Welcome back to school, students." [...] "Cordelia, raise yourself up and tell us about yourself!"
He flinched when the teacher asked Cordelia to introduce herself. He rubbed his eyes - he didn't sleep much - and focused his stare. At last she did as was told - rose herself up. Her body language suggested shyness, but her elegance suggested classiness. Hans found himself gaping at her, like everybody else in the room, taking in everything that was visible from his seat. So, she's a shy girl but doesn't dress the part. How interesting. Suddenly he felt something. It was radiating from her. But his realization was interrupted as soon as Cordelia spoke, her accent American, her Dutch OK (Flemish was American friendly, anyway) : "Mijn naam is Cordelia." Cordelia? Hmm. But suddenly, a shock shifted her face expression. Hans couldn't see much of it, but knew it was there from the moment it appeared - and boy - did it make his brain raise questions. He turned his head to see where she was looking and found himself looking at one corner of the room, confused. Is she afraid of shame corners? Childish questions popped up in his head until a sudden epiphany stroke him. Wait - could she be ..? But once again, his thoughts were interrupted by Goossens, whose native language was Dutch:
"So, let's talk about lessons!" He smiled, yet knowing his students would not.
Everybody in the class sighed. What a bad joke! 'Jeez', came a voice. 'But school has barely started', came another. Hans found himself not caring, instead being more concerned about the strange presence he too had started feeling. But anyway, had he not been busy, he would've smiled - for him school was a better thing than chit-chatting with creatures from other realms, whose existance he had been aware of ever since he was born. The teacher looked disappointed. But after a few moments Mr. Goossens got reminded of himself as a child and of that he used to be like them too, then he understood. Before more protesting voices could come, he said:
"Alright. Then let's hear the summer holiday stories." He smiled, knowing he had already managed to restore at least half of the class's sense of positiveness.
But there was no positiveness within Hans. He was actually desperate. Who was that girl? What was that which both of them had been looking at? So many questions. And it was just the first day of school.
He felt he should know more. And what better source of information at this moment than Cordelia herself? Yes, I will talk to her.
After an hour of boring talk - seriously, nobody was interested in hearing each other's tedious summer stories - the school's bell rang. Lunch time, at last!
Seated in his bench, Hans was looking at Cordelia, his gaze weighing her actions carefully. He wasn't interested in eating any more than finding out about her and potentially confirming his hypothesis. At last she stood up and by the time she had left the classroom, Hans made up his mind. He took the plunge and followed her up to the canteen, where he stopped, pretending to be texting on his phone. After she had gotten her packed meal, it appeared to Hans she was heading for the first bench from room's only window. Hans thought it odd. Her classroom seat was also placed next to a window.
Putting his phone back in his pocket, he walked towards her table. But suddenly, three of his classmates - Sophie, Emma and Sara - sat down beside her; all four of them now standing over the same table.
He could think of nothing but: F*ck!
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diwa
hiraya manawari
It was hard understanding Dutch. Sure, Cordelia's dutch is passable. She can understand the words, can even converse with others but she still finding a tad little hard. Now, it is harder for her to concentrate since there's a dead girl walking back and forth in front of the class while swaying her dress side by side like she was doing a waltz by herself. Every time she moves, her head bobs since her neck was cut wide open and the endless blood was flooding the floor. It was downright disgusting especially when Mr. Goosens was standing on it and every time he wanders around, he was leaving a footsteps made out of blood. To avoid the impending nausea, Cordelia fixated on the slight pain the charm was causing every time she presses them hard on her palm. As soon as the bell rang, Cordelia was one of the few people who almost ran out of the room. Visiting the girl's lavatory for a quick moment, there she threw up her hearts desire.
The next class went in a blur and just like the first one, she introduced herself and with a strain voice she told them that 'it was nice meeting you all'. She may come off a little weird but Cordelia doesn't care. She's got a lot of thing on her plate already and she can't be bothered by other people dilemma.
-
Lunch finally came, and like most of the student body, Cordelia headed straight towards the cafeteria, making a bee line for the food. As soon as she received her food, still with her head down, she went to sit on the corner by the window. This time there were less stares but people were still glancing on her way. Cordelia ended up playing with her food. She was still squeamish about the blood that she saw earlier. Well, one thing is absolutely proven. The charm is somehow working. They can't see her but that doesn't mean that she can't see them. Stupid gris-gris queen. She was rubbing her fingers on the lapis lazuli charm when she happen to look up and notice three girl sat down beside and decided to share the table..
"I'm sorry." Cordelia apologized, figuring out that the table was probably belong to them. She then started taking her things, her food tray and her bag before finally standing up and turn her back to leave.
The next class went in a blur and just like the first one, she introduced herself and with a strain voice she told them that 'it was nice meeting you all'. She may come off a little weird but Cordelia doesn't care. She's got a lot of thing on her plate already and she can't be bothered by other people dilemma.
-
Lunch finally came, and like most of the student body, Cordelia headed straight towards the cafeteria, making a bee line for the food. As soon as she received her food, still with her head down, she went to sit on the corner by the window. This time there were less stares but people were still glancing on her way. Cordelia ended up playing with her food. She was still squeamish about the blood that she saw earlier. Well, one thing is absolutely proven. The charm is somehow working. They can't see her but that doesn't mean that she can't see them. Stupid gris-gris queen. She was rubbing her fingers on the lapis lazuli charm when she happen to look up and notice three girl sat down beside and decided to share the table..
"I'm sorry." Cordelia apologized, figuring out that the table was probably belong to them. She then started taking her things, her food tray and her bag before finally standing up and turn her back to leave.
Valerian
New Member
He observed everything, his f*ck becoming a sharp, almost musical Good! Though that was short-spanned too - as he realized he had no idea how he was going to hit her up. Well, that shouldn't be hard. A simple shy boy of his age would find that hard, but Hans wasn't shy in the girls' presence - that wasn't the problem. The problem was the girl herself. It's her who seemed to be shy instead. He was sure he was not the only one of that opinion. Emma, especially, might not have appreciated being so easily turned down in an instant.
Being a dandy and a diva, she had a high status amongst the girls of the school, people usually calling her Rose. Emma had a flawed personality and it showed in everything she did. What she tried to do by sitting next to Cordelia was trying to see for herself who this new girl - who's turned heads all around the school - truly is and maybe even warn her a little.
And she almost lost the opportunity before she grabbed Cordelia's hand, tightening her wrist in her grip. Emma was horribly insulted. How could she get ignored like that - couldn't she see how important she was? She felt anger. It was overwhelming her. But she was stopped by a thought. Let's give her a chance; she's our new classmate, after all.
Looking in her eyes, her only words were: "Nice to meet you, Cordelia." Rose looked one more time at her beautiful clothes then let go of her hand, moving her glance elsewhere.
Hidden well behind the crowd, Hans stared at them, observing them carefully. She was lucky. For the first time in history, Rose showed tolerance towards others. But he somehow was sure that Emma was not going to give Cordelia any more of it next time she displeases her. With one hand in his left pocket, another casually holding his phone and his eyes following Cordelia, Hans looked like a predator. But he was not one. He just wanted to meet Cordelia. Had to meet Cordelia. Had to know her.
If both of them had paranormality in common, then he might relieve himself of the burden he had always been living with.
By both telling her of how he felt and what he's going through. She would become his friend. He needed one. One on par with him when it came down to sanity.
He felt there was something strange about her. And his senses told him she was not normal either. He always trusted his sixth sense. It was strong with him. Like with nobody else on Earth. It was like a gift. And sometimes he just embraced it, sometimes he hated it.
Lost in thought and his eyes gazing at her packed meal, Hans felt a knife slice through his head. But he wasn't aware. He wasn't aware of him having a headache. He wasn't there. He was now only to be found in his own world, alone, all by himself, thinking of how lonely he was and how bad he wanted a friend.
Suddenly, the pain was gone. And Hans returned back to the real world only to see how Cordelia's meal was floating, hovering in the air as if clinging to something invisible. He started. The object fell down, Cordelia's gaze with it.
In that moment, he only hoped nobody would observe.
Screaming could be heard; it was too late.
Being a dandy and a diva, she had a high status amongst the girls of the school, people usually calling her Rose. Emma had a flawed personality and it showed in everything she did. What she tried to do by sitting next to Cordelia was trying to see for herself who this new girl - who's turned heads all around the school - truly is and maybe even warn her a little.
And she almost lost the opportunity before she grabbed Cordelia's hand, tightening her wrist in her grip. Emma was horribly insulted. How could she get ignored like that - couldn't she see how important she was? She felt anger. It was overwhelming her. But she was stopped by a thought. Let's give her a chance; she's our new classmate, after all.
Looking in her eyes, her only words were: "Nice to meet you, Cordelia." Rose looked one more time at her beautiful clothes then let go of her hand, moving her glance elsewhere.
Hidden well behind the crowd, Hans stared at them, observing them carefully. She was lucky. For the first time in history, Rose showed tolerance towards others. But he somehow was sure that Emma was not going to give Cordelia any more of it next time she displeases her. With one hand in his left pocket, another casually holding his phone and his eyes following Cordelia, Hans looked like a predator. But he was not one. He just wanted to meet Cordelia. Had to meet Cordelia. Had to know her.
If both of them had paranormality in common, then he might relieve himself of the burden he had always been living with.
By both telling her of how he felt and what he's going through. She would become his friend. He needed one. One on par with him when it came down to sanity.
He felt there was something strange about her. And his senses told him she was not normal either. He always trusted his sixth sense. It was strong with him. Like with nobody else on Earth. It was like a gift. And sometimes he just embraced it, sometimes he hated it.
Lost in thought and his eyes gazing at her packed meal, Hans felt a knife slice through his head. But he wasn't aware. He wasn't aware of him having a headache. He wasn't there. He was now only to be found in his own world, alone, all by himself, thinking of how lonely he was and how bad he wanted a friend.
Suddenly, the pain was gone. And Hans returned back to the real world only to see how Cordelia's meal was floating, hovering in the air as if clinging to something invisible. He started. The object fell down, Cordelia's gaze with it.
In that moment, he only hoped nobody would observe.
Screaming could be heard; it was too late.
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diwa
hiraya manawari
Cordelia stared at her wrist where the girl gripped her tight like a vise. Oh. She's fairly familiar with this game, alright. The intimidation. The showing of seniority and superiority. Every highschool has this type of person. The girl already declared her territory. Her move maybe subtle but the actions clearly stated 'Sit down because I told you to.' She has this air of self importance. Cordelia was now contemplating whether or not to stab her with her fork or just wait and see what is going to happen. She learned a couple of self defense moves from the Amber Alert class her previous school provided for them, maybe she can put it in a good use here. But the latter won. Again, it was her first day. She's on a new turf and antagonizing the Queen Bee is not exactly lying low.
"Thank you." Staring at her passively, she sat back down and placed her food back on the table. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name." Cordelia added, it was more out of politeness than curiosity. She doesn't exactly give a damn about them. Having friends is not exactly that important and not high on her list right now. And Cordelia is not interested to be one of her yes man. She glance up and looked at the girl finally. Yep. She's the textbook bitch of the school. Perfect makeup. Fashionable clothes. Haughty look and complete with two henchbitch who'll probably ask 'how high?' if the leader will say 'Jump.'
Suddenly it became eeriely silent. The hush voices of the dead that was usually surrounds her fell quiet, like the calm before the storm but then it was broken by a sudden shriek and scream by her new seatmates. Cordelia's packed lunch was suddenly floating for a moment before it fell with a thud back on the table.
Cordelia was almost frozen on her spot. Never in her life, even during now when she can talk to dead people, she can set things afloat. Usually, spirits were involved. So if the spirit is cunning and strong enough to move the object, Cordelia can see them even if the others think that it was something that is invisible. But this time, no one is there. No spirits, or mischievous poltergeist were present. No dead can touch her with the help of her charm. Even the dead were aghast at what happened.
The hush voices came back after a moment but this time it was louder than usual. It was like a chittering sound. Like hundred bats were flying over head. Forcing a smile, she glance at the girl beside her, "Gotcha." Cordelia grinned, easily shrugging it off and pretending t aas her all along. "Sorry, lousy prank." before standing up and walking away along with her bag. Eyes followed her along with the normal humdrum whispers of the living. The voices of the dead were loud enough to drive her insane, and it wasn't helping when it is causing bad headache as well.
Upon looking around, she saw that every spirit present on the room were facing one direction. They were fixed on something. Even the ones outside. Cordelia's eyes followed them and saw them looking at a familiar young man... He was in her class during the first period. Why are they looking at him? Cordelia can't help but to stare at him with one single thought: Who... No. What are you?
Hearing the chatter of the crowd talking about the incident made Cordelia move faster. Not wanting anyone gawking at her anymore, she fished out the school map and checked for a safe spot. She ended up in the library and picked the corner most table where she was hidden from the door. Cordelia was frustrated, tired and confused, her hands were just absently playing with her lapiz lazuli charm. One question was still running in her mind: What the fuck happened?!
"Thank you." Staring at her passively, she sat back down and placed her food back on the table. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name." Cordelia added, it was more out of politeness than curiosity. She doesn't exactly give a damn about them. Having friends is not exactly that important and not high on her list right now. And Cordelia is not interested to be one of her yes man. She glance up and looked at the girl finally. Yep. She's the textbook bitch of the school. Perfect makeup. Fashionable clothes. Haughty look and complete with two henchbitch who'll probably ask 'how high?' if the leader will say 'Jump.'
Suddenly it became eeriely silent. The hush voices of the dead that was usually surrounds her fell quiet, like the calm before the storm but then it was broken by a sudden shriek and scream by her new seatmates. Cordelia's packed lunch was suddenly floating for a moment before it fell with a thud back on the table.
Cordelia was almost frozen on her spot. Never in her life, even during now when she can talk to dead people, she can set things afloat. Usually, spirits were involved. So if the spirit is cunning and strong enough to move the object, Cordelia can see them even if the others think that it was something that is invisible. But this time, no one is there. No spirits, or mischievous poltergeist were present. No dead can touch her with the help of her charm. Even the dead were aghast at what happened.
The hush voices came back after a moment but this time it was louder than usual. It was like a chittering sound. Like hundred bats were flying over head. Forcing a smile, she glance at the girl beside her, "Gotcha." Cordelia grinned, easily shrugging it off and pretending t aas her all along. "Sorry, lousy prank." before standing up and walking away along with her bag. Eyes followed her along with the normal humdrum whispers of the living. The voices of the dead were loud enough to drive her insane, and it wasn't helping when it is causing bad headache as well.
Upon looking around, she saw that every spirit present on the room were facing one direction. They were fixed on something. Even the ones outside. Cordelia's eyes followed them and saw them looking at a familiar young man... He was in her class during the first period. Why are they looking at him? Cordelia can't help but to stare at him with one single thought: Who... No. What are you?
Hearing the chatter of the crowd talking about the incident made Cordelia move faster. Not wanting anyone gawking at her anymore, she fished out the school map and checked for a safe spot. She ended up in the library and picked the corner most table where she was hidden from the door. Cordelia was frustrated, tired and confused, her hands were just absently playing with her lapiz lazuli charm. One question was still running in her mind: What the fuck happened?!
Valerian
New Member
She was looking at Cordelia. There would be nothing she could do that she would not observe. She had no idea who the girl was. Who she was getting involved with. Emma was unconsciously stepping into the vast unknown and potential danger, not knowing she could put herself in danger by upsetting her new classmate. She'd have her classy games that she learned during her childhood to thank for that.
Emma had always been hard on others. Always struggling to be on the top. In practically everything that she did. And if anyone dared compete with her, there would be mayhem. One time after school she and her minions encircled a girl for simply having had the same haircut as her that day and beat her, cutting her hair in the process, leaving bruises on her face. The day after that, nothing happened. Nobody dared to investigate. Nobody dared to ask, or to question her deeds. The poor girl had no choice but to lie to her parents that she was in fact beaten by a group of hooligans passing by. Another time she used a group of senior boys to mock a girl (probably the shiest in her class) - knowing the poor soul had been asked by the mathematics teacher to prepare a statistical project for next class - and torn away her math notebook, where Anna's homework and overall data was written. A true bully.
No one under her eye had ever ended up well. Unofficially, she was the school's mafia. Everyone feared her. And even so, what brought her to this fame level; to the level where she could manipulate everyone and get everything she wanted? The explanation is simple: Emma was not quite the beauty, but something about her charmed everyone. A charismatic appearance. Talking to her might have made you feel as if being lifted up to the heavens. She had a way with the words. She could always get everything out of a person by simply talking and just talking. A strong personality. Every student in the school gravitated around her. However, that was the furthest she could go. Emma didn't possess the ability to talk to the dead, lift things up by just looking at them or fly. She was a bad, yet normal girl.
And how more normal could she get when screaming after seeing a simple meal just float above the table over which she and the other girls sat? Today not only her minions would jump but also her, and without the need for anyone to ask how high or to order them to do so in the first place. She jumped, meeting head-on the ground, her head first, backrest last. Nobody would believe the sight of her falling, everyone would think they're dreaming. But at that moment, at that very time, nobody was looking at her. Everyone was looking at the now-falling meal pack, shocked.
On the backrest of her fallen chair now lay Emma, looking at the ceiling, eyes unmoved, her stare of a statue. She was shocked. Her heart was beating hard. Never in her lifetime - no - never in anyone in the school's lifetime or in the recorded history of man has such a thing ever occurred. She thought she had gotten insane. No, it can't be... This has to be a joke... Her eyes closed slowly. She fainted.
Crap! Accompanied by a fast beating of his heart, Hans startled. Just like Emma's, it beat so fast inside him that it almost wanted to break free and have a life of its own. A milion punches could not have hurt more than having his classmates and everyone in his school witnessing his stupidity. Yet, half of him was calm. They did NOT know who or what caused that - or whether it was real. He took advantage of that and fled to the library so as to pick up a book and relax himself. Hans would come back later to see what happened or someone will have already told him that by the time he reached the class. A page, only one! Reading relieved him of any stress he burdened inside him. It helped him cope. He thought it a drug. And nobody would deny it was. For him, reading worked just like nicotine.
At last he arrived at the school's library. There were ten feet shelves all around the place; all filled with books from edge to edge. This very room had plenty of books on plenty of subjects; even on the notorious ancient or modern dark religions. It was here, ten years ago, where he fell in love with reading. From classic literature to modern literature, he read books indiscriminately. But lately he found himself more immersed in religious books or books presenting ancient religions. He was not Christian, but Hans knew the truth is at the middle. He believed that the Bible was providing people with (beside errors) only half-truths and thus prefered to stick to his own version of 'the truth'. And that was exactly where he was heading to, his body moving by itself: the only place in the school to inform him in detail of the rituals, for example, the Aztecs used to perform on their sacrificed people. Indeed. The historical/theological shelf.
Even though there was only one shelf in the school to satisfy this interest of his, he found it enough. It had plenty of information. It was enough information to keep him nurtured for at least one year. Enough indeed. But steps could be heard behind the big shelf. What? No student in this school would be and was ever interested in this shelf. He sped up a little. At last he turned corners and the next think you know, he saw no one. Hans knew better than to jump and fall down just like Emma did. He allowed nothing but his eyebrow to move as in reaction to what he saw. He turned his head. Behind him was this one table. But that's not what he saw. He saw Cordelia.
"Hi." said he.
Emma had always been hard on others. Always struggling to be on the top. In practically everything that she did. And if anyone dared compete with her, there would be mayhem. One time after school she and her minions encircled a girl for simply having had the same haircut as her that day and beat her, cutting her hair in the process, leaving bruises on her face. The day after that, nothing happened. Nobody dared to investigate. Nobody dared to ask, or to question her deeds. The poor girl had no choice but to lie to her parents that she was in fact beaten by a group of hooligans passing by. Another time she used a group of senior boys to mock a girl (probably the shiest in her class) - knowing the poor soul had been asked by the mathematics teacher to prepare a statistical project for next class - and torn away her math notebook, where Anna's homework and overall data was written. A true bully.
No one under her eye had ever ended up well. Unofficially, she was the school's mafia. Everyone feared her. And even so, what brought her to this fame level; to the level where she could manipulate everyone and get everything she wanted? The explanation is simple: Emma was not quite the beauty, but something about her charmed everyone. A charismatic appearance. Talking to her might have made you feel as if being lifted up to the heavens. She had a way with the words. She could always get everything out of a person by simply talking and just talking. A strong personality. Every student in the school gravitated around her. However, that was the furthest she could go. Emma didn't possess the ability to talk to the dead, lift things up by just looking at them or fly. She was a bad, yet normal girl.
And how more normal could she get when screaming after seeing a simple meal just float above the table over which she and the other girls sat? Today not only her minions would jump but also her, and without the need for anyone to ask how high or to order them to do so in the first place. She jumped, meeting head-on the ground, her head first, backrest last. Nobody would believe the sight of her falling, everyone would think they're dreaming. But at that moment, at that very time, nobody was looking at her. Everyone was looking at the now-falling meal pack, shocked.
On the backrest of her fallen chair now lay Emma, looking at the ceiling, eyes unmoved, her stare of a statue. She was shocked. Her heart was beating hard. Never in her lifetime - no - never in anyone in the school's lifetime or in the recorded history of man has such a thing ever occurred. She thought she had gotten insane. No, it can't be... This has to be a joke... Her eyes closed slowly. She fainted.
Crap! Accompanied by a fast beating of his heart, Hans startled. Just like Emma's, it beat so fast inside him that it almost wanted to break free and have a life of its own. A milion punches could not have hurt more than having his classmates and everyone in his school witnessing his stupidity. Yet, half of him was calm. They did NOT know who or what caused that - or whether it was real. He took advantage of that and fled to the library so as to pick up a book and relax himself. Hans would come back later to see what happened or someone will have already told him that by the time he reached the class. A page, only one! Reading relieved him of any stress he burdened inside him. It helped him cope. He thought it a drug. And nobody would deny it was. For him, reading worked just like nicotine.
At last he arrived at the school's library. There were ten feet shelves all around the place; all filled with books from edge to edge. This very room had plenty of books on plenty of subjects; even on the notorious ancient or modern dark religions. It was here, ten years ago, where he fell in love with reading. From classic literature to modern literature, he read books indiscriminately. But lately he found himself more immersed in religious books or books presenting ancient religions. He was not Christian, but Hans knew the truth is at the middle. He believed that the Bible was providing people with (beside errors) only half-truths and thus prefered to stick to his own version of 'the truth'. And that was exactly where he was heading to, his body moving by itself: the only place in the school to inform him in detail of the rituals, for example, the Aztecs used to perform on their sacrificed people. Indeed. The historical/theological shelf.
Even though there was only one shelf in the school to satisfy this interest of his, he found it enough. It had plenty of information. It was enough information to keep him nurtured for at least one year. Enough indeed. But steps could be heard behind the big shelf. What? No student in this school would be and was ever interested in this shelf. He sped up a little. At last he turned corners and the next think you know, he saw no one. Hans knew better than to jump and fall down just like Emma did. He allowed nothing but his eyebrow to move as in reaction to what he saw. He turned his head. Behind him was this one table. But that's not what he saw. He saw Cordelia.
"Hi." said he.
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diwa
hiraya manawari
Cordelia knew he was there even before she saw him. It was probably because of the silence, or rather the weird reaction of the dead around her. All of the same time, the usual quiet and chatter of the dead was suddenly changed into a chittering sound, hundreds were whispering at the same time. The sound was like when the wind was blowing the leaves in the trees. It can be peaceful and serene but it can also be defeaning.
"Who are you?" Cordelia asked quietly and rather accusatory, unable to held back her tongue. Her curiosity got to her first. Who was this person who can make the dead curious just like her? Cordelia didn't have to look around to see that every dead were looking at the young man again. They were all fixated at him for some unknown reason and it was mind boggling. Partly it was because of the guy, the next was the dead. Cordelia was far from thinking of the consequence of the peculiar event that happened earlier.
Realizing it was downright rude, Cordelia cleared her throat and hugged herself. Her eyes were looking straight at his face. Trying to search for the answers that she was looking for. "Er... I mean, my name is Cordelia." She said as she tried to save herself from utter embarrassment. Her face was slightly blushing from lying and shame.
"Who are you?" Cordelia asked quietly and rather accusatory, unable to held back her tongue. Her curiosity got to her first. Who was this person who can make the dead curious just like her? Cordelia didn't have to look around to see that every dead were looking at the young man again. They were all fixated at him for some unknown reason and it was mind boggling. Partly it was because of the guy, the next was the dead. Cordelia was far from thinking of the consequence of the peculiar event that happened earlier.
Realizing it was downright rude, Cordelia cleared her throat and hugged herself. Her eyes were looking straight at his face. Trying to search for the answers that she was looking for. "Er... I mean, my name is Cordelia." She said as she tried to save herself from utter embarrassment. Her face was slightly blushing from lying and shame.
Valerian
New Member
He watched her fold her arms around her, only adding more weight to the difficulty of thinking of a correct way to introduce himself. Should he have told her who he is? Who’d know. Would you - knowing your past is notorious - reveal yourself entirely to a stranger, however big your similarity is to them? Hans decided that kind of similarity is more important than only having for example just reading in common with Cordelia. It was more than that. It was a similarity which would bring people all around the world together, each of them suffering, each of them worrying, each of them concealing, but all of them looking for a community where there would be no fear, nor shame in revealing themselves. It was the kind of similarity that could bring people a relationship closer than that of the children and their parents.
Hans realized that not too long ago and was just about to strike a bold conversation for the sake of it. And now, as he stood in front of her, having just received a bold question, which would only speed things up, all he had to say was simply:
“I am many things but mainly just Hans.” said he, returning her rudeness with one of his own, one last touch of insecurity still clinging to his statement. But one moment passed before he shook it off his head and burst in a silent way (the library is a reading room):
“One of them is being what society regards as a monster. Or a warlock, if you will. Another thing is quite obvious, as you and the clueless others, though not aware, had experienced it. I’d go on a little bit further but I’m sure you’d not want to hear the rest.” Neither did he, truth be told. He didn’t let more than two moments pass before raising his hand and pulling down his sleeve, revealing, just beside his elbow a tattoo, or was his skin burned?
A few lines joining together to form a strange sign, encased in a circle and an orange-like flame burning in the background was all that there was to be seen. Whatever Cordelia made of it, it merely spelled ‘EVIL’. He continued:
“Do you still want to talk to me now?”
Hans realized that not too long ago and was just about to strike a bold conversation for the sake of it. And now, as he stood in front of her, having just received a bold question, which would only speed things up, all he had to say was simply:
“I am many things but mainly just Hans.” said he, returning her rudeness with one of his own, one last touch of insecurity still clinging to his statement. But one moment passed before he shook it off his head and burst in a silent way (the library is a reading room):
“One of them is being what society regards as a monster. Or a warlock, if you will. Another thing is quite obvious, as you and the clueless others, though not aware, had experienced it. I’d go on a little bit further but I’m sure you’d not want to hear the rest.” Neither did he, truth be told. He didn’t let more than two moments pass before raising his hand and pulling down his sleeve, revealing, just beside his elbow a tattoo, or was his skin burned?
A few lines joining together to form a strange sign, encased in a circle and an orange-like flame burning in the background was all that there was to be seen. Whatever Cordelia made of it, it merely spelled ‘EVIL’. He continued:
“Do you still want to talk to me now?”
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diwa
hiraya manawari
Before going to Belgium, her father oriented her about the major differences that she'll see. Food, movie, music, theater, etc. They'll be different and somehow eccentric at first but she was told that she'll grow into it. Boys was said to be different as well but there'll always be the rude and the assholes that she needs to watch out for. They'll be probably some weird guys as well but she wasn't prepared for the guy in front of her. He.... He was entirely different, not physically speaking. He looks regular, if someone will try to dress him up, he'll probably look above average. The type of guy who wants to be in the back ground but somehow failing. There's something in him that she can't figured out, mysterious air folds around him. And unlike other guys who'll make themselves look good or at least presentable or at least admit that they're some kind of a nerd, he decided to go for the worse and weird part of himself. Was he confessing? Confessing for whatever the hell that happened to the cafeteria?
Cordelia stared at his ink, she wanted to reach out a hand and trace it with her finger just to make sure that it is real but she stopped herself. The word 'evil' was definitely prominent, unless ot was supposed to be read backwards. Looking up, she offered a small smile. "Well, 'Just Hans'." Cordelia said lightheartedly, pointing at the chair in front of her and offering it up to him. "I don't scare that easy. So please, enlighten me." Cordelia added, tilting her head lightly sideways. The girl figured that maybe by having some small talk, small hypothetical talk, with him might clear something up. Besides, she's not the only one who's interested anymore. Couple of spirits kept popping in the room and surrounding them that Cordelia fisted her talisman tightly. Whatever the hell Hans is, he's got everyone curious.
Cordelia stared at his ink, she wanted to reach out a hand and trace it with her finger just to make sure that it is real but she stopped herself. The word 'evil' was definitely prominent, unless ot was supposed to be read backwards. Looking up, she offered a small smile. "Well, 'Just Hans'." Cordelia said lightheartedly, pointing at the chair in front of her and offering it up to him. "I don't scare that easy. So please, enlighten me." Cordelia added, tilting her head lightly sideways. The girl figured that maybe by having some small talk, small hypothetical talk, with him might clear something up. Besides, she's not the only one who's interested anymore. Couple of spirits kept popping in the room and surrounding them that Cordelia fisted her talisman tightly. Whatever the hell Hans is, he's got everyone curious.
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