A VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS, , open

Samson had a love/hate relationship with the snow. It was nice to look at, but he really didn’t like the cold. Good thing he didn’t gripe about much—he dealt with the cold well enough, after all. He found that snapping his fingers together to create sparks helped keep his hands warm, though he did sometimes wish he were Fire. They were naturally insulated, and that would be quite nice right about now. Astoundingly, he didn’t have any traumatic emotions with fire. He lost his parents and his voice in a house fire, but the boy didn’t fear it or anything. He heard of that happening, but he found that he responded to fireplaces and candles and Fire students the same way he always did—as a source of heat and nothing else. To add to that, he didn’t really think about that day much. Instead, he thought about Beatrice’s stories and his memories of his parents.

What brought him out to the forest during such weather? Beatrice, of course. She had placed an old polaroid camera around his neck, and told him to snap some pictures of any interesting wildlife. Which to her would be Big Foot. That was her fix right now, he believed. Samson took an interest in the occult and the supernatural, but was not quite as zealous and eccentric as she. Still, she did what he said because he had nothing better to occupy his time. He practiced his powers whenever he could, and even snapping his fingers together now could be considered training, so that was taken care of. Right now, he was pretty much taking a break. Very much doubting that he’d see anything that would be of worth to Beatrice, he took it as a sort of chance to sight-see, since he didn’t come out to the wilderness too much. He liked the wide open sea, that was his home. The closest thing here was the lake, and that just didn’t do it for him.

Having not been carefully observing where he was going, Samson found him approaching a large tree with something odd about it. That ‘something odd’ was the fact that it seemed to have been hollowed out. Inside, there was a girl with what looked like a sketchpad. He thought about silently approaching to maybe screw with her a bit, but had a better idea. Fishing in his pocket, he pulled out his notepad and pen—he’d gotten used to carrying it around, so it was no longer a hassle. And he refused to use anything else, really. Of course, he rarely talked to people—and talk was a term he used humorously—and with Beatrice and his close friends there was no need for a notepad. They knew what he was thinking just by minimal facial expressions.

Samson knocked on the trunk of the tree as if it were a door, and held up the notepad which read, ”Making cookies?” He was referring to the Keebler elves, but he wondered if she’d get the joke. It didn’t look like he was joking by his expression, after all—he just blinked calmly at her with a straight face. He really didn’t know what made him approach, since he wasn’t exactly “friendly”, per se. He guessed it was the fact that this was a girl inside a tree, and that was quite the interesting sight. A part of him wondered if he should take a picture and bring it back to Beatrice to see what she thought about it. Considering that gaping holes in trees weren’t natural occurrences, he thought that this girl—who he maybe would be better described as ‘woman’ considering she looked older than him—was probably an Earth student. And though most Thunders didn’t really care for them, he had no biases against any affiliation. Samson just didn’t see the need.

As expected, she didn’t get it. And usually, he wouldn’t have taken the time to explain, but he had nothing better to do. So, without any change in facial expression, he scribbled down another note, and turned it back to her: ”You know, the Keebler elves? They make cookies in trees….Ha ha.” He even smiled a bit, shaking his head to move hair from his eyes. He smirked at her next words though, and took the notepad away again to write down something in reply. Between his fingers, Samson held it up again. ”Clever.”

It was then he noticed the sketchpad in her lap, and his face still remained in its careful stoic edge. Underneath everything else, he wrote down a question and showed it to her. ”What’re you drawing?” Honestly, this was the most he’d “talked” to someone in a while. But he had time to kill. Samson didn’t want to return to Beatrice so soon and without any pictures of Big Foot. He guessed he could take an out-of-focus polaroid and claim it to be the legend. And uncharacteristically again, he actually explained himself. It took him a bit of time to write out this part, and then he finally showed it to the girl. ”I’m not just being an asshole, by the way. I’m a mute. This is how I talk. The name’s Samson.” In all honesty, he didn’t really enjoy talking this way. He liked the unspoken communication between him and Beatrice. With just a look, she automatically knew what he was thinking. But that came with years of understanding.

He gave a wry smile before showing her his next reply. ”No, it was terrible.” Samson would have laughed at her pout if he could, but instead his smile grew before writing down something else when she mentioned wanting cookies. ”Sorry. You’re SOL out here.” Then, he added on, ”So I guess you’re not a Keebler elf.” He was quite a bit of the joker, something he thought he inherited from his Water elemental mother. Perhaps that was always why he liked the Water students so much. Usually, the Thunder students were loners, and he was still considerably so considering he didn’t really like communicating with others—but he still went out of his affiliation to associate with others. The girl showed her picture, and he nodded at it before writing something in his own notepad. She shouldn’t have been so under confident in her art—it was very good for a moving target. ”You’re good.” Then, he drew out his own bunny with an arrow pointing to it that said, ”I’m not.” He doodled quite a bit—mostly in class—but his skills weren’t something to write home about.

Samson really didn’t care about the pity anymore. It didn’t bother him. If people wanted to feel sorry for him, then let them—they were allowed to, after all. And he was completely comfortable with his ‘disability’, so it didn’t bother him. It caught him a bit off-guard, though, when she said she knew ASL. He lifted his eyebrows. After the fire, when he moved to British Columbia, the school put him into ‘special’ classes where he learned it. But he never really used it. First of all, not many people who interacted with knew it and second of all, a lot of his close friends and Beatrice really only needed facial expressions to communicate with him. Besides, he wasn’t much of a ‘people person’. Dropping the notebook and pen, he signed: ”I’m a bit rusty. I don’t usually sign.” And he still kept his sentences short because of it. He really hadn’t met another mute before—deafs were usually the people he’d seen sign, and sometimes they spoke along with it.

Adjusting to signing, she got an actual, not-dry smile from him with her Biblical comment. ”Only when I’m pissed,” he signed, ignoring her ‘don’t have to answer that’ comment. He wished he had that part of Biblical story—instead, Beatrice commented on how every girl he went out with was his Delilah. “Don’t let her cut your hair, Sammy,” she’d say very seriously. But unfortunately it was true—every girl he’d dated had managed to break him down further. Beatrice said it was a ‘Samson complex’. She invited him in, and he watched in silent wonder not visible on his face as she grew the tree out, like it was slowly exploding. Wearing a smile as he slowly shook his head, he sat down next to her. ”My natural enemy. I’m a Thunder student.” The girl seemed friendly, very friendly, so he wasn’t surprised to see that she was an Earth student. She may have been surprised that he was a Thunder student because of the fact that he didn’t turn away from her or zap her (which wouldn’t be good for him). He chose not to adhere to the strict guidelines of ‘alliances’—he enjoyed the company of Water students, after all. ”So what’s your name?” he signed, realizing she hadn’t said yet.

Samson didn’t want to admit it, but signing was a lot easier than using his cellphone or notepad. Unfortunately, it also made him feel more handicapped. And he didn’t like to feel handicapped, because that’s not what he viewed his muteness as. She joked that elves were around these parts and he signed, ”Hopefully you’re right. I’ve been assigned to take pictures of the creatures of the forest. Namely Big Foot.” He lifted up the old camera around his neck for emphasis. It may have sounded strange, but Beatrice and Samson were not a very normal duo. The redhead scoffed at normalcy, said it was the condition of the uncreative.

He snorted as she complimented his bunny. ”Let’s just say it’s a bunny that was in a terrible accident.” Most were surprised at how friendly the usually stoic mute could be, but he wasn’t as big of an asshole as most seemed to think. He was just quiet. Ha. Being mute tended to make it hard to communicate with others, which is why he shied away from it. As the girl explained how she learned to sign, he nodded. ”Makes sense. I was forced into classes to learn it. I used it mostly for cursing. My teacher was not amused.” He smirked at this thought. No, he wasn’t that big of a troublemaker, but he did like to mess around with people. It seemed that the Earth student was also having some difficulty with signing herself. Samson thought she might just be forgetting words. He nodded in understanding when she signed back. ”Not many people know it, so I tend to avoid using it.”

Samson was glad that this girl also didn’t believe in the whole ‘automatic enemies’ thing. If he had a personal grudge, he held it well. And he generally disliked those who slighted him in some way. Not just because they were said to be enemies. He guessed he got it from his parents and Beatrice—his father was Thunder and his mother and Beatrice Water. If they managed to get along with each other, why couldn’t he get along with others. ”As you should judge others on. The alliance system only really matters for me when it comes to war.” That’s when they had to choose sides. And he would always choose Thunder. She signed out a statement, but finished it aloud, disturbing the quiet both of them had created. He smiled again. ”You don’t have to sign with me if you don’t want to. It’s annoying, I know.”

Yeah, Samson definitely believed it was nurture vs. nature when it came to his tolerance for all affiliations. Especially Water. They were the types that he actually got along with best. Half of it might had to do with the fact that he loved the beach and swimming and anything that had to do with the water. He blinked as she gasped as if she had just committed an atrocious crime, and he exhaled in what is his silent version of a laugh. ”Disappointing,” he signed when she reference The Little Mermaid. ”I could have taken a picture of you for my little assignment. But since you’re not a real mermaid, I still need to look.” Unfortunately, he was being serious since Beatrice would not let him back home without some evidence of a mythical creature out in the woods. He believed in some instances of the paranormal (when you’re an elemental, you kind of had to) but not in the same way as his caretaker. He enjoyed the occult, but he wasn’t quite as eccentric as she.

He considered her words. Would Beatrice be able to tell? She was very perceptive... "It could work. What did you have in mind?" Judging by the look in her eyes, she had a plan And he might as well get this out of the way. Did he believe Big Foot existed? He didn’t discount it from being true, but it wasn’t his life goal to find the thing. And neither was it Beatrice’s. She was just…different. That’s the only way he found he could describe the woman. Eccentric, odd, one of the greatest people who’ve ever entered his life. Big Foot wasn’t the only thing she was after, most of her life being spent in the realm of the occult.

Samson snorted at her laugh, apparently finding the fact that his poorly-drawn rabbit had been crippled in an accident funny. At her next words, he drew ‘x’s over the bunny’s eyes and showed it to her. His smirk turned into a smile when she asked to be taught some foul language. ”If the need to swear in sign language ever arises, I suggest ‘fuck you’.” He emphasized the gesture so it didn’t look as if he was actually cursing her out. He once remember Beatrice threatening to hit him with a hairbrush should he ever use that language around her, even though he rarely communicated through words with her. She had actually surprised him when she admitted she had learned ASL for him—it wasn’t something he had expected her to do. ”Something surprises you? ‘Holy shit’. Stub your toe? ‘Goddammit’.” This was quite the interesting lesson. He had taught Derek sign language, including all the swear words, but he wondered how much of it he’d retained.

His expression turned serious when she spoke of the war. ”I do whatever my leaders tell me. I don’t really care if this chick is innocent or not, and neither does anyone else on my side.” It was the sad truth. Of course, he realized since Ari was Earth she might know this Nell girl, so he signed, ”I don’t think I would attack anyone the way others would. I’m not violent.” However, he did find fun in screwing around with others, back that was a daily basis thing. He wasn’t terribly malicious, but he liked to mess around with people. ”And the Thunders would be pretty stupid to screw with Earth students.” He smiled a bit at this. He knew not to seriously upset any of them, since one could completely own him in a fight if they weren’t so pacifistic. That didn’t go for all of them, however. His expression registered shock ”You enjoy signing?” He shook his head then, smirking. ”I’m impressed.”

Samson could be relatively perceptive, so he did notice Ari’s shift in demeanor. He picked up on the hesitation before ‘dad’ and he signed, ”I’m guessing you’re not fond of him. Don’t worry, I won’t ask.” He knew how to respect boundaries, too. He waited patiently as she gripped her head. Something really bad must have happened for her to be having such a discernable reaction. ”Do you want to lay down or something?” he signed. The general idea was that Samson was a jerkass, which wasn’t very true. Sure, he didn’t talk much with others, but that was because it was difficult for him to communicate. In actuality, he was quite sensitive to others. Especially when it came to girls. Samson wondered if a change in topic would help. ”Where are you from? I was born and raised on the coast of Newfoundland. It’s a really nice place, especially the ocean. I go back there during the summer now. It’s actually where my powers manifested during a thunderstorm.” Wow, that was probably the longest string of words he’d ever…signed.

He thought before signing, ”If we pull it off well enough, then I think it’ll work.” Samson sent a smirk her way, ”So do your think, Earth girl.” He was aware that the chances of finding a Big Foot were very, very low. But he wasn’t the one who wanted proof of it. He wondered what Beatrice would actually do with the picture after she got it. Probably frame it up in her shop.

Samson snorted as he signed, ”I’ve created a monster.” Hopefully it served her purposes well enough. It was nice knowing that you could insult someone without them being aware that you were doing it. He lifted his eyebrow at her maniacal laughter but shook his head after, his own version of showing amusement. There were limits being a mute, even he was aware of it though he was unwilling to admit how ‘handicapped’ he truly was.

He shrugged when she signed. Unfortunately for her, the innocence of their suspect didn’t really matter. Neither did it to any of the other students. ”We want a scapegoat,” he admitted. Nodding as she said she hoped they wouldn’t have to fight, Samson signed, ”I defend my allies, so…” He let that go unfinished. He wouldn’t hold back if she went against one of his one, and she was likely the same. There was no telling whether or not they’d fight unless it actually happened back in school.

Clearly being right, he was glad he caught on and managed to change the subject. Of course he was curious as anyone would be, but he knew how personal people could be. He may have seemed like a closed book to most, but if one asked, he’d tell you pretty much anything. Nothing truly bothered him enough that he felt he needed to keep it from others. ”America, huh? Well, I have to be biased and said that Canada is better.” He smirked at this. He was proud of his country, but it’s not like he hated America or anything. ”You’d be amazed what you can find here. Even though Big Foot is probably not one of them.”