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Post by NELL DOE DALE on Aug 9, 2012 20:47:12 GMT -5
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pretty hate machine.
Helping people was number one on the list titled “Things Nell Is Good At”. She long ago decided that it was a short list, cooking and playing cards after the first one. And that was about it. Well, unless one counted flair bartending, but considering how much she actually used that, it didn't really count as a skill. Honestly, though, her resume was stellar. Along with those skills, she had underage bartending, daycare work, and managing under her belt. And possible mob ties if her aunt ever got what she wanted. Which she wouldn't, but it was definitely something to be noted. Nell wondered just how bad her reputation had gotten, but she was afraid to guess. Jane was not the kind of woman to flaunt her actual business, simply the power she had, so the Earth girl rest assured that she could at least be protected by the mob mentality. It wasn't too good, however. It wasn't the same as those eighties gangster movies, the times had changed and any book she read told her so. How suspicious was it that she checked out books on the mob? Hopefully not enough that anyone would take notice.
As much as she liked helping people, she wasn't going to help those shady kinds of people. Tutoring was more her speed. Volunteering, she did a lot of that. Whatever she could to put a smile on a stranger's face. She loved that moment when she could see the happiness apparent on someone else's face. Any time that assisting someone took, it paid off when she could see that it made a difference. Even if it didn't, she would be content. As long as she was doing something. Tutoring didn't have as satisfactory a payoff, after all. No one wanted to be tutored, and they didn't throw their arms around her and sigh when they got a problem right thanks to her help. Teenagers didn't work that way, they grudgingly sat with her for an hour or so going over Math or English or whatever it was that needed to be honed on. She always felt a moment of pity for them, before she remembered that she was actually helping them get better so their parents and teachers don't chew them out.
when she's left waiting, she often got up to things she shouldn't. She supposed that went for anyone. While having great enough patience not to mind tardiness, nell could rarely sit still. Especially when she'd drank two cups of coffee thanks to staying up the night before studying. She wasn't sure what this state of being was called, but it was something very surreal and terrifying. Maybe she shouldn't have been tutoring while like this, but she had passed her test. Usually, a library was not a place where one could have a lot of fun. It was a place of work, or slacking off when you were pretending to work. She'd never once gotten in trouble while there, but it was very possible that one day she might have her picture taped to the wall next to the entrance. She figured that the only true rules were to keep quiet and not host any book burnings. That she could handle.
Left to her own devices, she began to stack up books in her arms. She didn't have a concern about returning them to their proper places, as she had the Dewey decimal system down pat. The table she chose was the usual for her tutoring, and it was luckily free as she sat on it and began to stack the books up around her, creating a fortress of Charles Dickens and Dostoevsky. she poked a hole in the middle of a wall, letting the book fall to the floor in order to let her breathe. the table was pretty big, but she was pretty claustrophobic, and she wouldn't be comfortable unless she knew a way out.
that's when she saw sam, however, the fire student she tutored. his surname was one she heard her aunt speak with disdain on occasion, and at first nell though it might have been an enemy family in mob fashion, but knowing that sam was an elemental gave her a different idea. the sinclairs were pride, too proud for their own good. "oh, sam, hi!" she said, peaking out from the little window in her fort that the empty slot provided her. "this is...uh..." she looked around her fortress. "a math lesson! i want you to find the area of the fortress. yup." it certainly was not a twelfth grade level question, but maybe he'd buy it. god, she needed sleep.
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Post by auby on Aug 12, 2012 18:52:05 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] AND SO I’VE MADE A MESS OF EVERYTHING I’VE EVER DONE The Words: 1288The Outfit: jeans, tee, cardigan The Notes Wahh! I’m so sorry, this is major rubbish. Auby’s wrist hurts and Auby’s all like mehhh sadface, so Auby’s muses and posts are major sucking and yeah, it’s just rambles, rambles, rambles. :’( SORRY!
Sammy was not having a very good day. It had all started with waking up, not to say that Samuel should not have woken up because that would have created bad days for more people than just Sammy; after all his parents would have had to invest in some kind of funeral plan, and then a couple of people would have to take a day off work to watch his lifeless form be cremated. Death was probably more hassle than it was worth, only second to life because in life you carried around your internal problems alone, at least Samuel did. He wasn’t really the kind of guy who would walk around the school with his head down, wiping tears from his cheeks when somebody looked at him. No, Samuel was inspired by his emotions but his bad day usually made itself known through hesitant sighs and unusual quietness, as if Miserable had embodied him. Upon waking, Samuel had pulled the covers over his head and refused to accept the fact that morning had actually arrived; he was usually the first person to wake up, but a late night accompanied by some naughty drinking had left him feeling sleep deprived, not to mention the fact that every muscle in his body felt as if it had been ran over three times by three different cars, each making their own perfect attempt at project road kill. When he finally pulled himself out of bed, Samuel didn’t even bother to let out a groan as he realised he’d missed breakfast, and first and second period. Of course he had, it was the most perfect day ever! Naturally, he would wake up feeling like shit and then miss class, because he just fancied giving the teacher’s another reason to hate him.
He took his time showering, feeling only a little bit better as the water trickled down his spine. Of course his shower was eating into third period but what did that really matter, his teachers would probably be having a field day with the fact that he wasn’t present. It wasn’t that Samuel was a difficult student, he was really quite the opposite. He enjoyed learning and he set high goals for his grades, but his reputation amongst the other students, in particular the other elements, rubbed off wrongly on a lot of his teachers and so he was treat as if he was a bad student who didn’t bother putting in the effort. It was a little bit of a motivational killer, often making him feel the sting of anger and injustice; he didn’t like being disliked by his teachers, of all people. Once he’d showered and gotten changed, nothing fancy, merely a pair of jeans, a tee and cardigan, he grabbed the few necessities and headed towards the library, a bottle of water clutched gingerly between his fingertips, a life force that might heal his straining body.
Samuel’s bad mood was on the increase as he considered where he was going. Private tuition. He settled for nothing less than an A, and yet here he was getting tutored as if he was too stupid to learn the stuff himself. It was definitely a pride killer, he felt a bit useless given his brother’s grades and his parent’s expectations. Samuel just didn’t do very well at math, the highest he’d gotten all year was a B, a disappointing B, and that could never be good enough. He was feeling pretty low about himself as it was receiving the grade alone but tuition just made it seem so much more real, like he was admitting to being a failure and that was something that Samuel did not do. He wasn’t practised in being the clueless idiot, he was meant to be the star student, he kind of wished his teacher was failing him on purpose, a B being a failure for Samuel. The tuition wasn’t his only problem, nor was his fatigued state of hangover, what more was the fact that his tutor was some skanky little Earth girl, who’s family hated his family and therefore his family hated her family, oh and she was a cold blooded murderer. He was certainly something himself, he knew he may have made a few people’s lives a little bit less bearable to live for his own amusement, but Sammy had never killed anybody. The thought of killing his parents, just as she had to her mother, made him want to be sick, although that wasn’t too hard given how he was feeling. He just couldn’t understand why she would do that, where her loyalties had been and how she could now live with herself? It was such a foreign concept to the teenager. He had constant pressure upon him by his hard to please parents, and it was very rare that they would give him any praise or not compare him with his brilliant brother, but Sammy would defend them to the end of the world and back, no matter how they treat him because he knew he deserved it. He wasn’t the best son, he wasn’t the smartest son, or the most handsome, or the most noble or thoughtful, to put shortly he just wasn’t Sawyer and he didn’t know how to be Sawyer, so he deserved every bit of guilt that his parents threw at him. He could never kill them, never even think about it.
As he entered the library, the irritating scent of books overwhelmed him and he took another sip from his water bottle. He looked around the room, his eyes searching for the girl he was meeting… the girl behind the stack of books, or whatever it was. He stopped by a table, watching her, a frown settled in to his face as his brow’s creased together. She spotted him unfortunately and he let out a miserable groan before walking over to her self made fort. He couldn’t understand what she was doing, whether she was just weird or punishing herself by making her own prison cell out of books. Sammy wasn’t feeling up to laughing about it right now, he was merely unimpressed. He shook his head and took up the seat next to her, his expression cold and sceptic. He crossed his arms over his chest and leant back in the chair, not removing his eyes from the murderer in front of him. ”Okay, I think there’s something we should probably address before we begin… Merlin,” he started, glancing unsurely at the Shakespearean mansion. ”Despite what you may or may not have heard, I’m not an idiot, I’m not dumb. You don’t need to desecrate Bronte or Byron to get the simplest fucking equation through to my head, I just need to up my B grade to an A so if you’re gonna take the piss or act like some stuck up version of Athena, you can fuck off right now, just go. I’m not going to help you work off your community service hours or whatever it is you’re doing here just so you can ruin my life with shit tuition and walls of Macbeth!” he stated honestly, seriously. He wasn’t in the right mind to have as much life or creativity in his words as usual but he figured he got his point across. Samuel sat up straight finally, glancing up at Nell the murderer, ”Speaking of Macbeth, how’s the hand washing going?” Sammy couldn’t really understand how Nell was even allowed to teach, never mind enjoy her liberties. He couldn’t even enjoy her appearance, knowing what she’d done and what she was capable of doing. Murder put a downer on everything. ”Oh, and don’t call me Sam. It’s Samuel, that’s it.”
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Post by NELL DOE DALE on Aug 14, 2012 2:20:24 GMT -5
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pretty hate machine.
sam looked for all the world like a healthy young man, tip top shape. the thought was sarcastic, because of course he looked beat. despite what her aunt would advise her to do and say, she felt bad for him. she wasn't supposed to, but there was a lot of things she wasn't supposed to do or feel that she did and felt. her family certainly wouldn't control that. the sinclairs should not even be her family in the first place. they didn't care about her, only so far as to want her to be a part of their life, the life. that's the only reason she may be considered anything to them. nell realized that if she worked under jane, she would be forgiven for everything she'd ever done, as long as she did whatever they told her to. but she wasn't looking for the easy way out. she wasn't looking for redemption from the people who destroyed her mother. that was why she had no reservations about tutoring sam, labelled "enemy" by everyone, even her alliance. she tutored a thunder, she knew what it was like to be teaching someone she should not even be around.
he did not seem at all amused as he sat down, and she placed her hands on the top of her fortress, peering over at him. the boy was wearing jeans and a cardigan, but didn't exactly seem to fit the rich boy stereotype. in her mind, that stereotype was what she saw in movies, the polos and sweaters wrapped around the neck of a beach blond with a blinding smile. samuel brenston just looked pretty miserable. she was going to ask if there was something up when he launched into his ground rules, and she blinked, hands still on the top wall of her fortress. she caught a reference to pompous athena and boosting grades, and she let him finish as she kept up a look of mild confusion.
at last, she raised her eyebrows. "wow," she said. "uhm, thank you for setting me straight. because here i was thinking that i can act like a pretentious jerk so i can get my extra credit points from my professor for this 'community service' just to boost that b average, which is not happening because i don't get extra credit." then she thought for a moment, and said, "and here its called innovation, not desecration." they were going to get along just swimmingly. she often didn't acknowledge the fact that she had a good amount of patience, but the fact that she actually did not knock over her castle of books and stomp off said something about her and her capacity for people in general. she chalked it up to him either not getting good sleep from studying/partying or him just being naturally antagonistic.
as he straightened up, she began to stack up the books on one side of the table and deconstruct her wall built of literature and boredom. however, his comment made her turn and look at him with a sharp glance, instant understanding of his words. but she quickly put up a smile. "are you reading macbeth in class, because otherwise i won't teach you that. it would take too long, don't you think?" it was clera avoidance of the question he asked, because she wasn't going to go there. he knew, but that was only to be expected. and like with anyone who knew of her past, she felt uncomfortable with him.
and then she got another reprimand in the form of his name, which was samuel, not sam. she nodded, stacking the last of the books on the side and taking up some of her own. "well then, samuel, would you like to help me return these books so we can get this over with? you've made it clear that you kind of really don't want to be here, and i'll try to make this as quick and painless as possible." it was probably his pride, which she noticed that a lot of men had too much of. she had her own in some forms, but she tried not to let it interfere with life. if she were more prideful, she'd have listened to her family and not gone around samuel in any way.
[don't worry, it was perfect! sammy is just so awesome. xD *pats auby and hands over cookie* gave me lots to work off of!]
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