|
|
Post by EMMETT HIKARU NAKAMURA on Dec 24, 2012 22:34:17 GMT -5
[/img][/center] He took it too lightly. The days, weeks, months that passed by without a single indication—he took it too lightly. He wished it had disappeared; dissolved from his life. He at one point thought it did, too, but it was just building up inside him, giving him false hope until one day… boom. It went off like a ton of bricks; his chest hurting and his breathing hard. This was why he isolated himself. This was why he needed to be alone. And people wondered why. Well, they sort of had to. Emmett wasn’t exactly screaming it out to the world about his… weakness. Phobia. He felt no need to and it was seen as what he called it—a weakness. A ridiculous, childish weakness. And Emmett thought he was getting better at coping it, but obviously he was wrong. He’s dealt with it for the past nine years of his life. The twisting pain in his chest, the absolute panic, the unsteady breathing—all of it. He liked to think it didn’t take over his life; at least, not completely. Isolating himself was his own choice.
Normally he wouldn’t really care if anyone witnessed him suffering one of his panic attacks. It wasn’t that bad, but of course he’d try to stick it out until he was actually alone to show the pain. They’d never ask, and Emmett would never tell. It was just the way things worked around here. He’s put up his own reputation as a loner (with a few exceptions) so people just naturally avoided him. Emmett liked it that way. But obviously, he’s had to change that. Ever since the new school year started, he’s shouldered a lot more responsibilities than he thought was comfortable. Being the Thunder leader wasn’t too bad, he had to admit, but he’s had to be wary of his choices, be more involved (Emmett still shuddered at this thought), and actually give a crap if he saw any threat to the alliance. Not once—until now—did Emmett realize he was put into the limelight. Any weakness he had would be put against him and in this school, it was not a smart idea to show them. An element’s leader who is viewed as weak automatically puts the element as a whole in a disadvantage. They were all targets.
So why now, of all times it could act out, it was now? At first, Emmett paid no mind to the small jabs at his chest. He figured it was just a small muscle spasm, at the least, so he continued his way through the courtyard, trying to find somewhere to sit. Or nap. The cold didn’t bother him much but he figured the other students did—which was why he opted to taking a break from studying elsewhere than in the library. To his surprise, the courtyard was packed with other students; having snowball fights, socializing, or just sitting around, like Emmett was planning to do. He paused at the edge of the grass, hesitating. He knew he shouldn’t. He knew that he shouldn’t take it too lightly as he remembered the many times he suffered from panic attacks. He remembered how vulnerable he felt and that was almost enough for Emmett to back away and head back inside.
Almost. After a moment of thought, his eyes narrowed and he stepped forward, going to an open spot. Emmett wasn’t going to let this control his everyday life; that was ridiculous. He was strong. He could fight it. This wasn’t social anxiety, no. Just the very fear of being surrounded by the unfamiliar. But the instant the pangs in his chest got worst, he knew right then he should’ve backed off. Emmett tried to push away the buzz of conversation in his ear, the laughter, the sheer frustration he felt, and most of all, everyone in a mile radius. He could feel the static electricity coincide with his annoyance, but it was completely outweighted by the growing tightness in his chest. He set his forgotten book down, completely ignoring it. Take deep breaths, calm down. You’ll be fine. But he knew those kinds of thoughts were futile. It was never going to be fine. Besides, he could barely hear himself over the pounding of his heart. Abruptly, Emmett stood up, the panic starting to seep in. Don’t let anyone see you. He knew once he did, he was going to get questions that he wouldn’t be able to answer, so it was just better to get the hell out of there as fast as he could. Unsteadily, he pushed his way out, his jaw clenched and his eyes forward. The cold sweat was noticeable and Emmett bit his tongue to prevent the pain on his face from showing. He just knew he had to get out of there. Where? No idea.
So maybe that’s how he ended up here. Bent over, his hand grasping at a nearby tree to steady himself as he gasped for air, the other pressed against where his heart was. It was never this bad, never this bad… Oh, how he truly wished it disappeared.
|
|
|
|
Post by cindy360 on Dec 25, 2012 3:13:22 GMT -5
'...this work is the fifth of six concertos the composer dedicated to Christian Ludwig, Margrave of Brandenburg...' Delora glanced up, scanning the surroundings quickly before once again becoming absorbed in the literary work. She loved reading, almost as much as she loved music, but she had never known that she would find an enjoyment in reading about the life of her favorite composers. She usually had a disdain for nonfiction when it wasn't being forced upon her in class. Her fascination in the only art she ever loved, besides good literature, was what kept her fixated on the pages of her book. She hardly thought of the fact that the courtyard was much fuller than it was that morning, that she was much colder than before, or that her stomach demanded attention after long hours of neglect.
She almost wanted to scurry off to her room to practice the very piece that she had yet to perfect. In fact, she had shoved her book away and stood to do just that, but something had stopped her. With her calmed state, she had unconsciously connected with her element in an almost intimate way. The feeling was unknown to her, having always focused on intensifying emotion to achieve the desired spark, but this seemed more natural to her than her previous methods that often proved unpredictable.
But she felt a disturbance. There was a thin crackling in the calm currents that naturally floated through the air. She glanced up, noting the dark clouds, wondering if a thunderstorm were to come soon. No... The sky is always grey... The thought brought her bittersweet memories of her sunny home where it were only ever dark for small periods, much different from the constant doom, gloom, and blistering cold.
It shifted again. The change in the electric currents in the air refocused her wishywashy thoughts. She was being influenced in her impassive connective state and, as she realized this, she knew that it must have been another thunder student to cause shifts so varying. It was probably unnoticeable to others, at least those thunders not actively trying, and would probably be only tangible in the form of static shock. However, she still worried inside her indifferent exterior. Classes were out for the winter and they weren't that close to where students commonly trained. This person would most likely not be trying one bit and is starting to cause possibly tangible results. Emotions were changing and inconsistent. Having that fuel an element was almost dangerous, especially if it escalated. She wasn't sure what emotions, or to what scale, was fueling this element, but it was enough to look into for now. No, she did not worry for the students; instead she worried for herself.
She looked up, scanning the courtyard with a more deliberate intention, spotting what most students overlooked. As they continued to be absorbed in their games, Delora watched as the thunder leader staggered off, leaving a book behind. ...She cringed... Delora wanted to go and make sure that he was alright, but she also tended to stay away from people of authoritative status. Curiosity won out and she quickly made her way across the courtyard, dodging snowballs and giving glaring looks. She picked up the book her elemental leader had dropped, and followed the direction in which she had seen him scurry off to.
"I think you forgot this..." Her voice held a civility to it, as if he were just a common citizen who dropped their wallet. Inside, she was just trying to remember the boy's name. She had a terrible memory, believe it or not, and she knew the face but could not associate a title beside 'Thunder Leader'. She doubted that would pass off as a very impassive commodity. E- Em.... Emerson? She was so absorbed in thinking for a proper title that she almost didn't notice the boy's strange state.
|
|
|
|
Post by EMMETT HIKARU NAKAMURA on Dec 29, 2012 1:53:53 GMT -5
[/img][/center] Emmett tried to steady his breathing, swallowing thickly as his mouth went dry. It would pass soon, but while he was in this state, it always felt like hours until he could breathe normally again. The weight on his chest would fade slowly but surely, and he’ll be fine again. At least, he hoped. Emmett hated going into the medical wing and besides, as long as he was like this, he wouldn’t make it far without doubling over. It’d save him explanations, even though the medical staff knew of his condition after his first visit there, and that’s what he wanted. The least people knew, the better for him. Being a target wasn’t an appealing thought. He leaned against the tree, closing his eyes as he tilted his head upwards toward the sky. The cold wind was refreshing against his face, though it stung his lungs when he tried to breathe in deeply. Emmett groaned again, getting tired of this routine he thought he’d grow out of. It’s been nine years. Come on.
He faintly began to think of his mother. A permanent frown appeared on his lips and he opened his eyes instantly, not even bearing the thought of saying her name aloud. It was a foreign word to him now; the bitter aftertaste in his mouth every time he spoke about her or his father (which was very rarely) made him want to twist his tongue as if to erase those words from his vocabulary. They hadn’t done anything for Emmett, both before and after they abandoned him. Constant fights and threats—all things a parent should never do. Especially abandoning them in the middle of a wave of strangers. He began to believe his life in the foster home was better than his life with his parents, and that was saying a lot. At least then, Emmett learned how to be taken care of, instead of taking care of others. He was just eight years old then, dammit. His world from then on has been so jaded; a little boy who hid himself.
But now Emmett lived in the dorms. Barely saw the owners of the foster and the kids he used to live with. He remembered living in the cramped house, kids coming and going, but he stayed. Always stayed. And now he had one year left until he was set free into the world by himself—the thought didn’t bother him, though. It kind of felt like he was already alone from the start, so it wouldn’t make a difference if was adopted or not. He didn’t like the whole concept of adoption, anyways. Two strangers, wanting to suddenly take him in as a son? How could two random people become his parents and do a good job, when his own parents that bore him, couldn’t? Emmett couldn’t wrap his head around it. That’s why he refused to think about it.
His eyes snapped open when he heard a voice. He clenched his jaw, standing straight as he turned to look where it had came from, trying his hardest not to look as if he was in pain. They’ll be gone soon, just grin and bear it. Emmett’s eyes flashed down to the book then back at the girl’s face, before taking the book from her hands. He faintly recognized her from his own element (he kind of had to, being a Thunder leader and all; they literally shoved all pictures of each Thunder’s student face into his own). “Thanks,” he said, his voice strained. Did he know her name? No. Was it important for him to know what it was? No. Emmett stayed silent for a moment, studying her face. It didn’t look like she noticed to his relief, more like she was… thinking? Worrying? He raised a single eyebrow. “… Emmett,” he said, as if he could read her mind. “My name is Emmett.” He paused for another moment, trying to conjure up any excuse for her to leave. He could feel his control slowly slipping and his hands clenched, his fingers digging into his palm. “You shouldn’t be out here,” he stated at last, looking around at their surroundings. “It's dangerous.” Emmett knew fairly well about the warnings the school put up about the forest. It was unsafe and students were discouraged from entering and blah, blah, blah. He never really listened to that rule anyways. Might as well be a hypocrite in this situation.
|
|
