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Post by NELL DOE DALE on Jun 4, 2012 15:31:05 GMT -5
 JESUS FOR THE JUGULAR one at a time , AIN'T NOBODY EVER GONNA EVER HAVE TO DIE Nell took a book from the shelf, about to inspect it when a flurry of pine cones pelted her in the face. She blinked as she rubbed her nose, seeing a familiar face in the gap created by the collapse of books. A disappointed face with a little frown. "You didn't jump," the girl mumbled, an Earth graduate in Nell's year. "I'm sorry?" Nell said. Uncertain of the situation, she defaulted to her usual apologies. She wanted her to jump? Why? "Does anything bother you?" The girl came around the shelves then, hands in her pockets. She wore a scarf around her neck even though the building was heated. Nell still needed to get used to fashion, but she accepted it as something interesting and unique. "Do you think I'd tell you my weakness so you could exploit it?" she asked, her lip curling into a sturgeon face. Clarissa shrugged. "Guess not. What you got?"
That was when Nell remembered the book in her hand and she flipped it to show the cover to the other girl. The Brothers Karamazov. She snorted. "I try to avoid books with old bearded men on the covers." Dostoevsky was clearly not for her. Adding it to the pile in her other arm, Nell said, "Oh yes, your thing with old bearded men. I remember the homeless incident." The blond jabbed a finger at her. "He wanted a hug, I don't do hugs." With her free hand, Nell grabbed her fingers and said, "Ooh, pretty manicure." That got Clarissa off the topic of old bearded homeless men and onto the manicure story. Nell loved hearing these stories, knowing everything behind everything.
She ended the story with a, "And so I told him I wanted all his love," and went on to ask, "What have you been up to?" It was a question with an easy answer, a vague response. She told the other girl about her stamina training and all that, how she was working on restoring her Pontiac, that she couldn't wait until summer. "Well, I need to get to class." Nell blinked. "The bell rung five minutes ago." Clarissa grinned. "Yeah, huh." And then she left, with Nell shaking her head as she went back to the table where she'd placed her items.
She cleaned up the scattered game of solitaire and returned the cards to her bag as she read and waited for Rambo to arrive. When he did, she blinked up, away from the page, and said, "Whoa, awesome, you showed up." She never knew with him. It wasn't like he was the best student, after all. But if she didn't have faith in him, she wouldn't be trying to help him out. Well, that was a lie. She wanted to help even the worse cases. "How's the day been, holmes?" She ripped a piece of paper out of her notebook and used it to mark the page she was on. Ghetto-style, that's how she liked it.
let him go, let him go LET HIM GO FOR ME |
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Post by wolven6262 on Jun 4, 2012 17:40:59 GMT -5
 THIS CITY IS ON FIRE; WHEN THE SUN GOES DOWN THE LIGHTS GO UP The halls were pretty empty while Rambo was making his way to the library, his thin cotton jacket barely taking the edge off the cold that was seeping into the castle through the walls. He figured he was just bein' gallete about it, no one else seemed to be minding the weather. He'd never even seen snow before coming here, and now there were feet and feet of it, and plenty of people willing to drop it down his shirt. Of course he gave what he got but he still figured he ought to be more tolerant of it all, considering his element. But it clearly didn't work like that and while this did disappoint him he just went outside less and made more bad jokes to vent his irritation. He was even going to tutoring - chooh, tutoring! - because he had nowhere better to be. He'd signed up because some couyon teacher had caught him in the hall with a cig, and the guy gave him some long talk about responsibility and acting like an adult before telling him how he was being like all the other vandals and he was needing to mature. He'd barely escaped with his life.
But he'd skipped the last two meetings already and he hadn't ever even met this girl who was supposed to be giving him lessons more than once. The teacher who'd caught him up had fixed it all for him so he couldn't just leave and not follow through on his own time. Plus that, he'd called the man a cunt and a little catin and asked him if his parents raised him as a man or a woman, so he was doing detention for the next two months to make it even. Rambo knew he had a big mouth but he usually pretended he didn't; if his swagger failed to protect him, at least he still could suck up to whoever it was he'd pissed off. And if that didn't help him out, he was a really good runner.
He'd mostly decided to come to this session because he didn't feel like going to town in the snow, and because the little beb was actually kind of pretty, in that petite, round-faced, innocent way he liked with girls. He sure wasn't making a friend by wasting her time and if he wanted a pretty girl he had to be friendly; she was a lot older than him, but he figured if he was sweet to her it wouldn't matter. So here he was, climbing a damn lot of stairs to get to where he was going and thinking of saying fuck it and going back to his dorm. When he finally got to the library he was glad to note that it was a lot warmer in there than in the castle's corridors and that it was cozily lit, with huge stuffed chairs to sit in while you read...or didn't. Unfortunately, his tutor wasn't sitting in any of those. She was at a square, plain-looking wooden table on the other end of the room, a stack of books next to her bag. She had her nose in one of the novels already and to Rambo it looked like she might be lost in her own little world. But when he pulled out a chair and slouched into it with a flourish of self-important attitude, she roused herself and looked up at him, clearly surprised. "Whoa, awesome, you showed up. How's the day been, holmes?"
Rambo frowned sarcastically. "You don't got da faith in me? I'm bein' good now, comin' here." He snorted and tugged the paper bookmark out of the novel she'd just closed, not even bothering to look around before demanding, "You got a pen?" Still, he was just being an ass because he was used to doing it, and his tone didn't have any real pushy malice behind it. He couldn't be serious for more than a few seconds at any given time, and he could already feel a smirk coming on. She'd had a quick wit last time he'd been here and he'd enjoyed it at first, until she'd insisted that they actually do some work and then went on to bore him with history.
Chooh, but she had to be something, if he was back for another round.
OOC: I hope this reads all right, I've never don a character with an accent before. TAKE A RIDE; THE CONSTELLATIONS
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Post by NELL DOE DALE on Jun 4, 2012 21:21:14 GMT -5
JESUS FOR THE JUGULAR one at a time , AIN'T NOBODY EVER GONNA EVER HAVE TO DIE Nell liked to hear his accent. As a foreigner from the Bronx, she had felt like an outsider when first coming to Canada because she was. Hard on the consonants, dropping the r's, it had been clear that she wasn't from around these parts. So it was always entertaining to hear other accents, even though she couldn't really place the brunette's. She didn't have much knowledge of the world, a lot came from movies that she watched. It wasn't from being a shut-in...well, it was, but not by choice. She didn't think about those things. Her American counterpart, that's what she knew about Rambo's accent. And she liked it. It was interesting to converse like this. She imagined talking to him in Spanish, how that would sound. It was her first or second language depending on how one looked at it, but she refrained from it when speaking to someone who didn't know it, of course.
A smile twitched to her lips as he practically swaggered into the chair, and she listened to his words without being bothered by them. She was a very unbothered person. She could sit through an earthquake just humming softly to herself. "Not a lack of faith. I'm just proud of you." It was obvious that she was being facetious, as she was a lot of times. She rarely liked to take things serious, even when the moment called for it. Joking always worked better for her, its how she got by. Surely the Water elemental could understand. His kind was full of the jokesters. She reached into her messenger bag on the table and tossed him a pen. "Here you go. Excited to get to work, huh?" She scratched the back of her head, one of the signs that she was completely at ease with a situation. It would have been different with Emmett. That boy just made her tense. Especially now that he knew things he shouldn't.
She pushed her own books to the side of the table and took out another pen and notebook. She liked to be prepared herself when tutoring. "So what do you want to do today?" This kind of thing was not pushed onto her, she simply accepted the role of tutor. Nell liked to help people, even green-eyed slackers who seemed to have something off about them. She didn't know what, though, and she rather gave the benefit of the doubt than make snap judgments about people. Giving him a look, she added, "Academic wise, of course." Before Rambo could get any ideas about slacking off. She humored it for a little bit, but she always kept in mind that she had a job to do. And she hated procrastination, the feeling that she was leaving something off, something she might not remember later. This made for a very smart student...a very smart student who changed her majors like socks.
let him go, let him go LET HIM GO FOR ME |
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Post by wolven6262 on Jun 6, 2012 2:27:43 GMT -5
THIS CITY IS ON FIRE; WHEN THE SUN GOES DOWN THE LIGHTS GO UP This girl had some sort of hypnotically calming effect on him, Rambo noticed absently. Before he'd met her he'd only been as superstitious as anyone else, but now he thought he could see what they all meant by da gree gree. Older cajuns believed in da cunjas, curses and spells, and his mother had chanted little songs about cats over him when he'd been hurt as a child. But he'd never really believed in such things; whatever magic anyone had imparted to protect him, it clearly hadn't done its job. Apparently Nell was an exception. It surprised him a little, actually; she aussi had an accent, and while it was unique it didn't seem like the quiet person kind of way to talk. But she was calm and didn't care too much and he thought it might be also where they met, because the library was always quiet.
He shook his head to focus and plucked the pen from her fingers, twirling it as he slumped back into his seat. At least this would give him something to do if she wanted to give him a lecture. Snorting at her comment - a gesture she ignored, trop mal - he listened to her as she continued, and smirked. Jamais demander à d'possedé pour obtenir de l'eau. "Mais, I t'ink I like math, huh? D'en when I do a...problème" - he gestured at the paper with the pen, not realizing how similar the French was to the english - "You take sumt'in' off, huh?" He raised an eyebrow at her and cocked his head, hopefully managing to both be tempting and sarcastic all at once. He didn't think for a minute she'd go for it, but that was where the sarcasm came in. Nell didn't seem to be in the mood for games today, judging by her last comment, but if he'd noticed her down-to-business attitude he'd decided to ignore it. Nothing new there.
But, merde, now he'd said math she'd go and teach him math. He wondered vaguely if he was any good at math, because he really didn't know, and then started wondering if she'd someday begin checking his grades in the likely case he didn't participate in her little game. That teacher he'd insulted was keeping a close eye on him now and he had to leave campus to do anything fun, just about. The bastard was far from the of street-smart role model Rambo would have chosen for himself and the way the couyon was nosing around was not a very good way to make the Cajun comply with things, he didn't think. But the Academy had other ideas, and they'd put him on a curfew because he'd skipped a few detentions...or ten. Mais, he was laughing at the curfew now, pretty much. But he didn't want to go home all too bad and he thought that would maybe be the next step.
OOC: I loved your last sentence there, by the way ^^ TAKE A RIDE; THE CONSTELLATIONS
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Post by NELL DOE DALE on Jun 6, 2012 17:48:19 GMT -5
JESUS FOR THE JUGULAR one at a time , AIN'T NOBODY EVER GONNA EVER HAVE TO DIE How much did she actually expect to get done today? Knowing Rambo's personality, not much at all. Unfortunately, she was one to be easily swayed, bending to the will of others. She liked pleasing people, the word 'no' never left her lips. There were situations that she held a stubborness in, however. Josh knew that best. She'd never let him pay for anything before they'd started dating and she'd let him be traditional, had adamantly denied being sick the time she had gotten the influenza, and she'd turned down the invitation to move in with him when he inherited the mansion. It was impressive that someone so self-ignorant could have so much pride, but she had inherited it from her father. She had a lot from that man, from culinary skills to the Fuentes stare that could bring any man down to his knees. Thinking of him was the equivalent of a punch to the stomach, with a kick for guilt and remorse. So she didn't think. It was easier to focus on the Water boy and his playing with the pen she had given to him. He was one of the things that caused the least stress in her life, and she was glad for that. Nell wanted to enjoy it while it lasted, for however long that he would humor her for this tutoring session that he was clearly oh so enthused about.
Rambo seemed amused, and she wondered whatever could be going on in that curly head of his. She tilted her head like a curious dog when he tapped the pen against his paper. It was a good thing understood the French language well. Not only from her knowledge of both Spanish and Italian, its sister languages, but because her fiance spoke the language himself. There was not much difficulty in translating his words spoken with the intriguing accent of his. "Take something off?" she repeated, blinking. "What do you mean?" One of Nell's most obvious downfalls was her naivete. She wasn't one to jump to conclusions about anything, and her mind stayed far away from anything like that. Even though she was not that innocent--she had a fiance here--things still tended to fly over her head. It caused her to squirm whenever she realized how ignorant she was, in any situation where her experience was limited. She had not spent much time in the world. "As long as you get your work done," she said with a shrug. She was willing to get to turn anything into a game if it helped. The Earth girl loved games, she had a deck of cards on her at all times. Just in case of those emergency blackjack situations.
[lol thank you! xD]
let him go, let him go LET HIM GO FOR ME |
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Post by wolven6262 on Jun 7, 2012 3:16:47 GMT -5
THIS CITY IS ON FIRE; WHEN THE SUN GOES DOWN THE LIGHTS GO UP Nell really seemed to have a thing for languages. The first time he'd met her, Rambo had spoken his absolute worst english, scrambling the French and deliberately ramping up his accent until he couldn't even remember what he'd been saying. He'd done it in the hopes that she'd leave him be, and the next tutor would, too, and maybe in the end they'd run out of tutors. But she'd just rolled with it; he'd assumed she was French-Canadian, and then when her accent was revealed he'd guessed that she'd done some traveling or at least taken a class or two. After he'd noticed this about her he'd started talking like he was back home, speaking whole sentences in French and using familiar sayings he'd known since he was young. But his excitement over the common ground had died down again when he realized she wasn't fluent, and he'd gone back pretty quick to trying his best at enunciation. Still, the first impression was there, and by the end of that last meeting Rambo had stumbled over a compromise: he could speak French with her, but he had to repeat himself in English, just in case she didn't get it. He appreciated the freedom to talk without thinking so much about he got where he was going, and anyway she seemed like she cared for the French more than the English, so as far as he was concerned it was a win-win situation. He'd wondered about how she knew French since then, and thought about other languages she might know. Did she speak Russian? That had to be useful up north, right? Qu'en est-il espagnol? Was that a thing in Texas? It was close to Mexico. Hadn't Texas been part of Mexico once?
But merde, was she always this innocent? Rambo's eyebrows automatically went up as she blinked at him, and he felt his jaw loosen when she of all things agreed to damn well play strip poker with him, minus the poker. "You serious, chère?" he asked, even though anyone would know that she wasn't...or wouldn't be, if she'd known what he meant Known what she'd been saying. "Mais, you start first, den," he said, flicking the end of the pen at her with an unmistakeable leer. "I can't do de travailler wit'out no inspiration. Got to start somewhere, huh?" He knew for a fact she'd get the point with half the look he'd chosen to share and he was pretty much real curious to see what her reaction would be. After all, making the misere was fun with anyone and he was willing to try it with her, no matter if he was just thinking about it because she was pretty. That was funny; they could only be friends because he wanted more than that. Not too much more, just...whatever boys wanted most times, anyway. He'd had a girl back home and he'd liked having someone to depend on for a fun night. Mais, that had only worked until he'd screwed up - and screwed someone else. Jolie bebe était un moyen, he thought. Too strict for her own good. She'd do her share of unfaithful love too, he didn't doubt. They'd probably end up fucking when he came home for the summer and, whoever was hooked on her then would want to brawl with him. Rambo was hardly a brawler but he knew how to keep his feet on a boat and roll the other guy over the side.
He shook his head. There were a lot of good memories comme cela; he could hardly win in a fight if he was standing with both feet on solid ground, but on a boat or a dock or in a tree hanging over the water Rambo was unbeatable. The kids he knew had even learned to corner him if he only was far from an edge he could push them over. One time he'd even driven his pepe's boat over some boy's head for trying to weight a dogfight to his favor. Being away from the bayou in the winter now, it felt foreign, and when he wasn't wearing shirts that chafed at his skin the icy cold was making him shiver. Shifting in his seat now, trying to rearrange himself just right so he didn't feel the hood of his jacket against his back, he sighed, muttering to himself. Chooh, merde. Rambo suddenly felt far from clownish and a strange but familiar homesickness sank into his chest with each breath of chilly Canadian air. He wanted his bare back against the wall of an unpainted river house and the humidity in the air to make it impossible for him to wipe the wet condensation off his beer.
He felt so parched.
"Let's just get dis don, huh?" he told Nell, leaning forward and balancing his weight on his elbows. "What you gonna teach me I don' alreddy know?" He didn't mean for it to sound so skeptical and demanding, but he wasn't in a mood to care, either. He had to do something to get rid of his ahnvee and he didn't really know what to do. He didn't have to. He'd figure it out. But he couldn't have her holding him up here when he couldn't think well enough to do what she wanted him to, anyway. TAKE A RIDE; THE CONSTELLATIONS
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Post by NELL DOE DALE on Jun 7, 2012 20:44:30 GMT -5
JESUS FOR THE JUGULAR one at a time , AIN'T NOBODY EVER GONNA EVER HAVE TO DIE There were times when Nell really wished that she could be better educated in the ways of the world. She was far too aware of all the life she'd missed. Never had she gone to preschool, never had she been able to play double-dutch with the girls on her block, never had she been able to go to her mother with girl troubles or her father with homework. She didn't have any of that. All she had was her row house and the fire escape she used to sneak out when her mother was passed out. Her world had been the length of the block, it had been the crack rock on street corners, it had been the library that she had called asylum. In the game of tag with her mother, it became her safe-zone for a time out. That way she could plan her survival, continue to live for one day. All she had to do was clean the deck, drink the fish juice, focus on surviving. Even now when she lived in a mansion with her fiance and her future sister-in-law, she still had not escaped the mentality. Mind on the present, she lived in the moment, not thinking of any sort of future. That great big thing in front of her was still a mystery as ever, one she couldn't be sure of. The one thing she knew for certain was that she loved Josh and she wanted to marry him, but as for when and where and how--those details have had yet to be decided.
When Rambo's eyebrows went up, Nell realized that she had done something wrong. I was just asking what he meant... She looked around as if the books could give her answers, before looking at him again and turning her head to the side. He pointed a pen at her, and she arched an eyebrow at the look he gave her. Still ever oblivious to ulterior motives, she told him, "To get you to do your travellier, I'll need your affectation first. So c'mon, give me a problem to do. I'll show you anything you need help on." She spoke French with the similar inflection as she would Spanish. It was nowhere near the Southern accent that he had to his voice. Though she did often lapse into Spanglish, she still had her Bronx accent. It was tough to get rid of, even though she'd had friends try to give her speech lessons. "A little less emphasis on the o," Angela would say, and then Nell would accuse her of not even being Canadian. As much as she wanted to assimilate, the accent wasn't disappearing. Was she proud of it? She didn't know what she thought about herself, or her home, her history. Things like that were kept in a black box in her mind, under the winter clothes and the Christmas presents of a closet in her mind.
Nell tapped the cap of her own pen against the table for a few beats before he spoke again, leaning forward on his elbows. She smiled, nodding a bit. "Judging by the fact that I'm in college and you're a...sophomore, is it? I could teach you a lot." She wasn't holding the age difference over his head or anything, just answering the question honestly. She was an honest person. And though she said such a thing, she didn't actually have an education until her senior year in high school at the Academy. "If you don't believe in me, however am I going to help you?" she said facetiously, holding out her hands to him as if begging for his faith. She understood that he didn't want to be here. The girl had dealt with difficult ones, she had Emmett. Such a situation was made even worse by the fact that he knew things he shouldn't, something she'd rather be kept secret. It couldn't be a secret, however, when most of America and the world knew. Nothing was sacred, so she shouldn't have been surprised by Rafael's actions. He was still a scumbag for doing such a thing, but that wasn't even the worse of his crimes. Crimes he should be imprisoned for.
let him go, let him go LET HIM GO FOR ME |
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Post by wolven6262 on Jun 12, 2012 8:36:32 GMT -5
THIS CITY IS ON FIRE; WHEN THE SUN GOES DOWN THE LIGHTS GO UP Rambo just shook his head at her, his manner both disappointed and dismissing. He could see she wasn't getting what he had to say, although for whatever reason that was he couldn't figure. He'd thought he was being very clear, he'd even enunciated himself in English. Nothing. There was nothing for him to do but move on. It was his turn to be confused, anyway; what the hell was affectation? She obviously meant that she needed him to give her something to teach, but did she want his questions? His homework? Was that it? It had to be; she was smart enough to know that he wouldn't have collected a list of questions first. But he'd always called homework his devoirs, or sometimes travail scolaire, mostly for things he'd started in class and never intended to finish. Her accent was a bit odd, too, a mix of French words with a Spanish lilt and what he thought might be a northeastern American accent. Might. He hadn't traveled enough to know for sure, but he wasn't completely innocent. He'd watched T.V., at the least, and they spoke like that in New York shows sometimes. You couldn't always trust Hollywood to get it right, but it had happened more than once, and they had to check that sort of thing. There were a lot of people up north who were watching.
Focusing on the work at hand, he just shrugged. It wasn't like he'd brought any work, or remembered any of the lessons. "Jus' tell me somet'ing 'bout algebra," he suggested, none too enthusiastically...but at least he was being somewhat serious. Rambo figured she'd probably appreciate a lack of enthusiasm more than a lack of sincerity. He'd been an ass long enough to know that, for the most part. Sometimes there were people who liked his joking around, but they were mostly girls who thought he was worth dating. After awhile, they usually left - and they rarely went without leaving him a slap for their trouble. To Rambo, it all seemed damn unfair. Mais, he didn't warn them that he wasn't boyfriend material, but he always figured that particular detail didn't need warning for. He'd gone out with enough girls by now to assume they'd know what they were getting into. Anyway, he wasn't gonna be getting away from Nell anytime soon so he was tempted to just go along with things at the moment. The library atmosphere was so quiet, he wasn't sure he wanted to leave, but he was sure he would by the time this was done. Rambo was good at math but far from great at it...the only reason he was where he was had to do with the ridiculous amount of summer tutoring the Academy had given him before he'd started attending here last year. He'd probably still be stuck in the basics if it weren't for that, and he figured he was lucky to only be a year behind.
Still, it wasn't that he didn't have faith in her, and when she suggested it he leaned back and gave her a smug smile. "No, it got not'in' to do wit' faith, catin, it jus' I'd rather be doin' somet'ing else. Math's not on my bucket list." He wasn't really trying to offend her there, even if school was important to her, but his words were harsh and had a derogative note stuck in for good measure. Whether he meant it or not mattered little; he wouldn't know what she thought of his attitude until she responded, anyway.
OOC: Sorry about the wait, I was gone all weekend since Thursday doing graduation things. TAKE A RIDE; THE CONSTELLATIONS
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Post by NELL DOE DALE on Jun 13, 2012 16:08:25 GMT -5
JESUS FOR THE JUGULAR one at a time , AIN'T NOBODY EVER GONNA EVER HAVE TO DIE Nell's expression would not unfix itself from the quizzical expression she'd been wearing. Even when he boredly told her to get on with it. "Don't sound too excited, now, I might not want to teach you then." Her sarcasm was shining, maybe she was spending too much time around the wrong people. Which were her father and brother, but she had to take care of the former and keep an eye on the latter to make sure that he did not ruin anything else. The Fuenteses were just full of assholes, and she refused to become like them. Even if she was on...good terms with her father now. Is that what it was called? They hadn't even talked about anything because that just devolved into fighting, but she cared for him and she couldn't say why anymore. Maybe she had more familial loyalty than she first thought.
She took the pen and wrote down a problem on the piece of paper before pushing it over toward him. "There, solve it. And do it with a smile, because you're seriously depressing me, here." She was only joking, because it was obvious how little he wanted to be sitting in front of her in the silence of the library, surrounded by all these books. Did she want to be anywhere else? Well, she had nowhere else to be. And she liked helping him. So she'd have to say she was pretty content on that front. Not like she complained much anyway, god strike her the day that something ever came out of her mouth like a complaint.
She watched as he leaned back with a cocky smile on his face, and nodded her head slowly, looking around before her eyes fell on him again. "So what is on your bucket list then? If the greatest subject of math is not on there." She was more skilled in the areas of history and English thanks to how her brain liked to work, but she found ways for math. Especially when it was attached to science. There was reason, then, and maybe it was because she came from so many scientist. Her grandmother a physicist, her father a biochemist. She came from a long line of great minds, none of which she wanted to emulate.
let him go, let him go LET HIM GO FOR ME |
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