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Post by i n k on Jun 12, 2008 17:33:47 GMT -5
BEYOND THE GLASS OF CONFUSION:: .my.cup.of. w a t e r is.perfectly.clear. It was disgusting.
Horrifying.
Gross.
Gray sludge poked from the sides of the sandwhich, flimsy, wheat bread hardly containing the large pile of what appeared to be contaminated gray-matter. Pieces of fresh green onion showed bright and shining faces between the chunks of fishmeat, as if trying to escape the slop they had been forced to occupy.
Zander did not realize he was making faces at his lunch, but he was. He really should have listened to his parents and taken theater- his expressions could put a mime to shame. People from across the cafeteria were glancing, perplexed, in his direction; Zander was sitting alone, wrapped up in this ugly tuna-salad sandwhich, locked in a battle of wits with the lunch his father had packed him.
It was watching him- he could tell.
Rain poured down in a feverish patter out the wide, picture windows behind him, but he payed no notice. The back of his neck prickled as thunder crashed and he unconciously curled into himself the slightest bit.
Why wasn't lunch more fun?
NOTHING IS WRONG HERE. everything's f i n e.
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Post by Jay on Jun 12, 2008 20:04:04 GMT -5
Swinging the plastic bag of food he’d grabbed earlier that morning, Gabriel made his casual way across the lunch room. The bag had fallen from his loose grip at least a dozen times, but he didn’t really mind seeing as he hadn’t really intended on eating it in the first place. He only left the house with his food to please his aunt, no matter how man times he tried to explain to her that he was honestly never hungry at lunch time, she would simply throw a fit, and land Gabriel in a world of ‘what would your mother think’ and ‘if you die I won’t forgive you.’ At this point, he’d just decided to give in, and take food, even though he ended up throwing it out or feeding it to birds. It might have been a waste, but he honestly didn’t care.
He walked over to the table he found to be the most unoccupied, which still sadly enough had one person sitting at it. He didn’t bother to ask if that other person minded if he joined, and threw himself down, dropping the bag on the table with an equally unceremonious plop. He brushed his hair out of his eyes and frowned. Apparently the person he’d chosen to sit with was either completely insane, or… no… he decided completely insane would probably cover it.
“Did it bite you?” he asked in a deadpan voice “or are you just glaring at it because you have nothing better to do?”
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Post by i n k on Jun 12, 2008 20:12:59 GMT -5
I close my eyes and see a SILVER SCREEN; It had to be looking at him.
Zander jumped at Gabe's sudden, droning comment, shocked back into reality. His fist hit the table, tribal beads adorning his wrist painfully jabbing into his flesh, as he looked up at his sudden, new lunch-buddy. "Huh?" Zan blinked; it always took a few seconds for him to reboot, reload, return. Several seconds that seemed eternity to his one-panel mind. "Oh! Uh, no, it's just that... He's not so good with the..."
He was lost.
Gabe looked lost- and slightly agitated.
Zander took a deep breath, slowly placed both hands palm-down on the table, and said, "My mom's gone. My dad packed my lunch. I think it's trying to kill me. Sort of."
[You lost him at hello, hon.] a moving.picture.of.ME.
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Post by Jay on Jun 12, 2008 20:20:46 GMT -5
Gabe raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything for the first little while. He let Zander have his moment, after all, who didn’t love having staring matches with… whatever it was exactly that Zander’s father had shoved between those two slices of bread. Gabriel allowed himself to muse over the possibility that it could, in fact, be alive and wanting to kill, but he dismissed the fleeting idea just as quickly. “Sentient lunches,” he muttered under his breath “everyone’s favourite.” He pulled a juice box, orange of course, out of his plastic bag, and probably enjoyed jabbing the pointed end of the straw into it more than was healthy for the average student. “So what sort of grudge did you pick against this particular… foo-,” he cut himself off “that is supposed to be food, right?”
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Post by i n k on Jun 12, 2008 20:26:58 GMT -5
HOLD UP; WAIT A M I N U T E-- Looking like a perplexed Sherlock Holmes, Zander leaned inquisitively over the "sandwhich," one hand at his chin, index finger and black-painted nail (sister's fault) tapping his bottom lip. His eyes flicked from the glob on the table to Gabriel's own optics. He finally reached a deduction and leaned back, casually, to rest with one arm hanging over the back of his chair.
He nodded, all business. "Yes," so matter of fact- "I believe I'm supposed to eat this stuff."
He eyed it again.
"Whatever it is."
Silence crept up behind them, then swallowed them whole. Zander cleared his throat several times, once every twenty seconds, until he finally pulled a remark out of the dry-well that is his brain.
"So... What did you bring?" put a little l o v e in it.
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Post by Jay on Jun 12, 2008 20:34:31 GMT -5
Gabriel shrugged. “Juice?” he said, taking a sip of it. “There’s food in the bag too. I dunno what it is. I take it to make my aunt shut up.” He took another elongated sip of the juice, “If you’re inclined to not eat that… enemy… you seem to have made, you can help yourself to it. Be careful if you do though… my aunt’s one of those self proclaimed ‘experimental cooks.’” That warning was very well-warranted. Since he could care to remember, every single one of his aunt’s recipes had been something ‘new’ and ‘exciting’ and even if the actual recipe failed to be so, she managed to add in her own ‘creative twists.’ Over the years, Gabe had grown accustomed to the food she made, and smiled politely and nodded whenever she asked if adding such-and-such to the recipe was a good idea.
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Post by i n k on Jun 12, 2008 20:43:25 GMT -5
SKELETON YOU ARE MY FRIEND "Juice, huh?" Zander's tone was slightly and uneccessarily skeptical, the words spoken through his lips. "Orange juice." He thought over the food comments, looking between Gabe and the sandwhich every couple moments. God, he looked paranoid- but that wasn't the case at all.
"My dad just can't cook. Stereotypical male thing, y'know?" He smiled, then, genuinely, slightly pointed incisors glinting in his gums. He sat straight again, folding the clingwrap back over the tuna-salad. "I really don't think I'm ready to face this foe." The plastic shriveled under his fingers. "And I'm relieved to say I've never had anyone cook for me who liked to experiment. It's weird."
The sandwhich disappeared back into his environmentally-unfriendly paper bag, which slid off the table into his messenger bag. It'd get tossed later, but for now he'd just forget about it. Zander pulled a cherry 7-up out of the same bag and cracked it open, the can lukewarm in his fingers. Little drops of condensation had gathered over its aluminum skin, and he pulled them together with his fingertips, all concentration on the can. AND I WILL BE THERE FOR YOU UNTIL THE END.
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Post by Jay on Jun 12, 2008 21:01:19 GMT -5
Gabriel forced a smile, and it ended up looking just that: forced and unnatural. “Right.” The smile had disintegrated nearly as fast as it had formed. He looked down at his juice box, not really having the same amount of concentration that Zander had, but he still managed to look relatively interested.
((Ooc: sorry about shortness ^^; ))
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Post by i n k on Jun 12, 2008 21:14:37 GMT -5
[BETWEEN DOVES AND ELEPHANTS;; Drip, slide, drift; Zander noticed the sudden lack of conversation and looked up at Gabe, brow furrowed. Didn't he have anything else to say?
The thunder crackled bright and ominous in the clouds, shaking the windows behind them. Zander tensed again, hands knocking over and then catching his soda before it hit the table and splattered its innards.
"I hate thunder! I hate rain!" slight panic gripped him, and his hands gripped the can, and his eyes gripped Gabe's.
[not to worry, hon. :>] ;;THERE CAN BE NO COMMON GROUND]
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Post by Jay on Jun 12, 2008 21:20:16 GMT -5
The panic in Zander’s voice was enough to make Gabe look up, a appearance of genuine concern passed over his face, “Are you alright?” he asked, knowing full well that it was a ridiculous question that in all honesty did not even deserve an answer. “I mean… what’s wrong with rain? It’s pleasant, okay maybe thunder isn’t but you know it’s…” he stopped himself, being able to recognize the cruel habit of rambling that occasionally threatened to overtake him. He sighed, and not knowing what else to do tentatively asked again “are you alright?”
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Post by i n k on Jun 12, 2008 21:27:42 GMT -5
ONE TIME I TRIED TO SING ABOUT SPRING AND A STORM- His knuckles were turning white over the smooth surface of his life-preserving soda. "I'm fine. Just fine." His chest heaved, though silently, his breathing controlled for the most part. "Rain... I'm just not so into the liquids. They aren't good friends of mine."
He looked towards the window, iceburg eyes following the trails of suicide drops as they slid down the glass into the green turf and across the side of building two. His posture continuously showed him trying to vanish into himself, swallow himself up. It wasn't working, simply making him look like a demented child throwing a tantrum.
At least in Zander's case it was silent.
"I don't have an umbrella, either." -BUT YOU KNOW HOW IT GOES.
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Post by Jay on Jun 12, 2008 21:32:36 GMT -5
Gabriel furrowed his brow, confused, “What good would an umbrella do inside, pray tell?” he asked, trying not to sound the pretentious git he felt when saying it. “And what’s so bad with liquids? You like soda, obviously,” he made a pointed glance down at Zander’s hands, and the poor can of 7-up trapped within their very likely unbreakable grip. “Isn’t it a liquid?” using rhetorical questions made him feel like he was talking to a child, but in retrospect, with the way Zander had broken down so fast, he wasn’t sure if this was overreaching all that much.
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Post by i n k on Jun 12, 2008 21:41:06 GMT -5
[[IT'S LIKE I'M [glow=red,2,200]GLOWING[/glow] INSIDE, YEAH-- "Falling liquids, big pools of them, giant gaping amounts or unstoppable waves are not good with me. No no no." Zander shook his head, stray hair catching on his horns. He looked back to Gabe. "And I need the umbrella to get through the next passing period. It's in building three."
The farthest away.
Zander flopped sadly into his original position, only this time resting his head on the table. His fire-engine-red hair slid silkily onto the table, tiny shhhing noises matching the tiny strands' movements.
"This shouldn't bother me that much."
The soda was left abandoned and slightly dented to the right of his head, dejected. --A [glow=red,2,200]LIGHT[/glow] I CAN'T HIDE]]
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Post by Jay on Jun 12, 2008 21:46:39 GMT -5
“Hey now don’t feel bad, everyone has irrational fears… most people do at least. I can’t stand hamsters myself and…” again, he caught himself slipping into ramble mode, and managed to pull out of it before it took over. Damn it was happening a lot lately. “Building three, eh?” he said, changing the topic with a good 180. “’M pretty sure my next class is there too. No umbrella to offer though.” He shrugged and took another sip of his juice, “why didn’t you bring one?”
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Post by i n k on Jun 14, 2008 10:08:58 GMT -5
MAYBE IT'S THE WAY HE'S BLIND WHEN EVERYBODY STARES-- "I don't watch the forecast all that often," Zander pointed to his horns. "Us fire demons are supposed to have instincts letting us know when storms like this are coming, but I guess mine aren't fully developed." There was a hint of worry in the second part of his statement; what he really feared was that they would never show up, that he would never reach the full potential he had recieved at birth, but he hid it all with another smile. "Ah, well."
Changing the subject was good.
"Would you maybe like to walk together?" He tilted his head to the side, all sincerity. They'd find an umbrella or something, and it would be just peachy. --OR MAYBE IT'S THE WAY HE NEVER CARES.
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