|
Post by brett on Sept 5, 2011 16:37:50 GMT -5
It was July, and that meant that there was no school. Usually that was a plus, seeing as it meant that kids had time to socialize, party, and stay out late, but that was Brett's life all year round. All summer meant to Brett was that he lost his place to stay rent free. This left the thunder with two options: he could have easily traveled home for the month, or he could see how long he'd last on his own. Obviously, the second option was the more appealing one. Brett loved a challenge, and seeing if he could survive with only enough money for food, bear, and cigs, was pretty much what epics were written about. So far, Brett had managed to stay afloat by sleeping his way around town. Usually, it was a win/win situation, where he'd manage to get laid and get a place to stay the night with no downsides. Unfortunately, there had already been instances of sleeping with ugly chicks at the end of the night due to the complications of ending up at the wrong bar at the wrong time. Still, if he still had a place to stay, and it didn't burn when he took a leak, he was golden.
Cut to Brett on a park bench with a backpack at his side. He really hadn't thought the whole transportation of his belongings through when he decided to go on this little adventure, which really meant that he'd mailed his stuff home, and kept only essentials with him from there on - clothes, deodorant, shampoos, condoms, and toothpaste were among the myriad of things crammed into the knapsack. Still, it beat working to support his lifestyle, and it certainly beat going home for a month. It would have been alright, but it would have also been extremely boring. Spending so much time in Canada meant losing all of his connections back home in the States. He didn't know who to talk to when it came to finding parties, or getting booze, or weed, or anything else he was craving at the moment. He was lost when he was home, sure his parents would probably buy him some liquor if he asked, but they'd be monitoring him while he was drinking for sure. Sleeping all around Maple Hollow just seemed like a better idea, even if he was sleeping on a bench tonight, for lack of ability to find an easy homeowner.
Really, Brett was more than happy to sleep on a bench every once in a while. It was a beautiful summer night, so it wasn't like he was really suffering here. Not to mention, this place wasn't nearly as seedy as New York, where Brett may have ended up dead or had his stuff stolen by deciding it was a good idea to travel the park at night. This was a lot better. Not that Brett was really worried about his stuff being taken from him, he was an extremely light sleeper when he wasn't wasted, and he had electricity just waiting to be released from his body. Really, if some idiot tried to wrong him, they'd probably end up getting tased. Regardless, Brett laid down with his backpack under his head as a pillow, looking up at the stars. Nature wasn't really his thing, but when he was stuck outside with nothing better to do, he couldn't help but notice the beauty of the galaxy. It was almost poetic, which meant that none of those thoughts would ever be voiced to other people. Deep down, it was probably do to a fear of rejection, but he was pretty spot on that his emotions would get him rejected in the long run. Being apathetic just worked better with his lifestyle. Bad boys and soft sides didn't mix. They may have been good plot devices in after school specials, but in reality they were pretty much buzz kills.
Tagged:: Altair Outfit:: Click Count:: 656 Notes:: Happy birthday!
[/size]
|
|
|
Post by ALTAIR SABINA BENNETT on Sept 6, 2011 14:16:22 GMT -5
Altair was not a stumbly drunk. She held her liquor well enough that she wasn’t shambling home after a party. And it ddin’t take much for her to sober up. While hangovers could be botthersome, a cup of coffee in the morning strangely helped. Maybe that was why she found it easy to fall into this kind of lifestyle. It was something she was good at, destroying herself. May not help in the future, but there was no future for her that she could see. The girl had not real hopes or dreams—the only thing she wanted to see in the future was her sisters’ safety. Even if when she hit rock bottom, she wanted them to be all right. Maybe if you actually helped them. Altair stubbornly resisted doing that, though. She didn’t want to push her way into their lives, and so she ignored their problems and knew that they returned the favor, even when they were all aware of how screwed up they were.
”We can give you a ride.” Altair turned her sharp blue eyes over to the guy who stood by a decent looking Impala—it probably belonged to his parents, since he looked like a teenager. There was another guy climbing into the passenger side, and she snorted. ”No thanks.” She’d walked to the party, therefore she could waslk back. She didn’t want anyone to think they were helping her, after all. It wasn’t like she’d never gotten into a stranger’s car before, that’s wasn’t the proble. She was cynical, but not paranoid. Reckless behavior was just one thing on her laundry list of daily activities. But she didn’t want anything from these guys, and so they just shrugged and drove away. She wasn’t anything to them, there was no pressure to make her go along with them. Which spoke spades of their characters, she supposed.
No, Altair was not a stumbling drunk, and therefore she easily cut through the park, smoking a fag. The day felt rather uneventful, and the party did not do well to entertain her. Sometimes, it felt like it didn’t even matter—when she was sober, it did. But not now. Hands in her pockets, she almost missed the lump on the park bench, until she turned, thinking at first whoever there was just an eyesore. She noticed a familiar head of hair—for some reason, that’s what she noticed first about him all the time. ”Brett.” she said, taking the cigarette from her mouth and flicking ash to the ground as she narrowed her eyes. ”What the fuck are you doing out here?” It was an odd place to see someone lurking around, unless it was for shady burisness, or if you were like her, ctting through. But he seemed to be ding neither of those. Then she noticed the napsack and arched an almost-white eyebrow. ”Running away?” she said dryly. She didn’t know about Brett’s home life or anything and she wasn’t going to ask. She was just drunk and stoned and this usually put her in a mood to make conversation. Besides, she strangely tolerated him.
|
|
|
Post by brett on Sept 6, 2011 21:15:09 GMT -5
It was always surprising how easily Brett could get to sleep when he had nothing better to do. It wasn't even a matter of being tired, whenever he laid down and wasn't going to do something soon, he could just nod off. It was an ability that he was so very happy to have. The best thing was that he could pretty much end up sleeping where ever he happened to be at the time. It would've been easy for him to just pass out here without a care in the world. Getting to sleep wasn't hard at all, staying asleep, however, was a challenge. That was probably a good thing - it'd gotten him out of some sticky situations and out of relative stranger's beds in the nick of time in the past. Brett never liked to stay for the morning when it came to one night stands. Most people didn't, but Brett just didn't want to see the people he drunkenly fucked the night before. He didn't want to have to make awkward small talk while trying to piece together his last night. It just wasn't appealing. He shared a night with those people, sure, but that was it. They'd probably never even see each other again, and that was more than fine with Brett. That was his life, and the fact that he wasn't a sound sleeper definitely helped it. The only problem was that if he'd been shitfaced the night before, he'd sleep the sleep of the dead, and never know where he was going to wake up.
Brett was actually just about to nod off when he heard his name in a familiar tone. Brett really only knew one person who had a British accent, so even without opening his eyes, he knew that it had to be Altair. It was kind of funny how they never planned to see each other, but always seemed to meet in the most interesting of places. It was also interesting that he seemed to be happy to see her, which was kind of uncommon for people that he really wouldn't consider friends. He and Altair were far from enemies, but they weren't really buddies either. Regardless, Brett opened his eyes and sat up. He let out a small laugh when the girl asked what he was doing out in the park. "I thought it was kind of obvious that I was trying to sleep," he said, rolling his eyes. He knew better than to go into long explanations when a few words would cover it with Altair. She didn't care, and he was finally getting used to that. He related to that completely, but he wasn't used to others feeling that way. He usually had to talk to make people like him, then pretend to listen. Brett really wasn't sure which was better or worse. Not talking much was a challenge, but having to listen to useless dribble was just a chore.
He shook his head when Altair asked if he was running away. "I don't think I really have anywhere to run from," he stated casually. It wasn't like he didn't have a home, but it just wasn't worth venturing back to. Staying in Canada seemed like a better, and more doable idea. "How about you? Why are you out here?" he asked, making sure there was enough room on the bench next to him just in case the girl wanted to sit down. Brett would have been more than happy if Altair decided to stay and strike a conversation with him, though tried not to get his hopes up. The girl wasn't exactly a world class conversationalist, after all.
Tagged:: Altair Outfit:: Click Count:: 613 Notes:: -
[/size]
|
|
|
Post by ALTAIR SABINA BENNETT on Sept 7, 2011 21:49:42 GMT -5
Her demeanor was more…easygoing. Nonchalant. She didn’t carry herself with the authority she usually did. At this moment, she really couldn’t give a damn. Everything around her was surreal and strange and she moved languidly through the night. Which is why she didn’t get as nearly pissed as she could have gotten at his question. Instead, she snorted. ”Well excuse the fuck out of me,” she said, but there was humor behind the words. Drunken humor, but humor still. He didn’t bother her much, especially with drugs and alcohol running through her system. Which was a miracle, consider it was Altair, who was bothered by everything and everyone. That was why detention was a second home to her. Or only home. She could never think of this place as her real home, she was from Great Britain, not Canada. But then she reminded herself that her sisters were her home, and she was fine with being wherever they were. You big fucking sap. ”Let’s try this again,” she said. ”Why are you sleeping on a park bench?’” He couldn’t have answered the question, and it wouldn’t have mattered.
But he did answer the question, in a way. Nothing to run from, Brett said. ”Homeless?” she asked. It wasn’t a big surprise or anything. She didn’t know about Brett, if he had parents or cats and dogs. It wasn’t like any of their conversations ever included anything about their personal lives, really. He might as well be a total stranger with the little information she had about him. ”Why don’t you sleep in your shit car?” she said, never missing the opportunity to rag on it. The car model might as well be ‘Shit’ with how she regarded it. But again, there was a drunken kind of humor behind it. ”Unless it got towed or something.” Why was she even doing this? Well, because she could, she guessed. Altair had nowhere else to be, nothing else to do. She was just cutting through a park and found Brett going to sleep on a park bench. It gets a girl’s interest piqued, even one as volatile and uncaring as her. When she was drunk, she was less confrontational, but it was still more than possible to get in a fight with her. Brett was just more than lucky in that case.
She blinked at the park bench and then walked over to fall ungracefully in the seat, leaning against the back with a somewhat concentrated expression. Altair shrugged. ”Going home. Or somewhere. I don’t care.” After taking out her cigarette to spit on the ground she added rather conversationally, ”I’m drunk.” She may not have acted like it, but this was her rather shitfaced. A lot of her changed, from her demeanor to her conversation. She was a lot better with other people when she wasn’t even aware of what was really going on around her. Maybe she should have been hammered all the time, it would help when it came to speaking with other people. ”Not sure if I’m even going home.” Nope, Altair may not have returned to the single room apartment she shared with her sisters that night. She shrugged again. ”Doesn’t matter.” She didn’t know what she wanted to do with herself. Find another party? Sleep it off? She might as well talk to Brett since there was nothing better presenting itself.
|
|
|
Post by brett on Sept 8, 2011 14:08:28 GMT -5
Unfortunately for Brett, he hadn't had a drink all night. That meant that he could still think clearly. Clear thoughts never worked out for him. He was better with beer. When he was drunk, he may have made some questionable choices, but at least he had an excuse. Sober, Brett's thoughts tended to put him at a social disadvantage. He tended to end up over thinking, or ending up missing opportunities that he would have jumped on were he a little more intoxicated. Brett grinned when Altair attempted humor. It was unusual for her to joke around, so he was sure to appreciate it when he could. It was funny, despite Altair being one of the hardest people to get along with, Brett still enjoyed seeing her. She was usually cold and hard to deal with, and yet he still liked having her around every time they managed to randomly bump into each other. It was odd that he actually craved her approval as well, especially for him. Brett was the kind of person who never gave a fuck what individuals thought of him. In group settings, as long as the majority of the people he was with liked him, it was enough for him. Other than Altair, and maybe two other people, he didn't really strive to impress people. It just didn't make sense to him.
Altair asked if he was homeless, and it was really a fair assumption from the vague choice of words he had used. Still, he was surprised the girl was asking. She usually wasn't this conversational. "I really just think it'd be stupid to go back to the states for a month. So I'm surviving Canada on my own. It usually involves sleeping around, but it's a nice night, so I thought 'why not a park bench'?" he stated flatly. Next came Altair's car insult of the day, which didn't really phase Brett at all. His shit car had matched her Ducati in a race, and that was saying something. Though if given the choice, he'd definitely upgrade as soon as possible. "Because then I'd be prone to sobriety tests. And I really don't want to deal with that right now." It was the best explanation that he could give as to why he wasn't sleeping under the roof of his car. Cops tended to find it odd if someone was sleeping in a car. Then they'd test, he'd fail, and bad things would come of it. It really wasn't worth the hassle, and certainly wasn't worth it if whoring around could get him as far as it seemed to.
As Altair sat next to him, he turned to face her. He really couldn't understand why the girl was just walking through a park at night if she couldn't decide where to go. He assumed it was for the quiet, which he was pretty much ruining. Not that he really cared. When Altair explained that she was drunk, it at least explained why the girl was so much more talkative than usual. He liked her better when her blood alcohol content increased. "You hold your liquor pretty well," he stated with a grin. That was definitely a compliment, because most people tended to slur or wobble, but Altair just seemed to get nicer. "Well, I mean, you could chill with me all night if you want," he offered when she told him that she wasn't sure she'd be going home. He would have been more than fine with her denying the invitation, but it'd at least give them both something to do. Brett could definitely relate to not wanting to go home, and if Altair was anything like he was, she'd probably appreciate the company.
Tagged:: Altair Outfit:: Click Count:: 621 Notes:: -
[/size]
|
|
|
Post by ALTAIR SABINA BENNETT on Sept 10, 2011 14:33:15 GMT -5
Altair leaned back on the park bench, laying her head down so she could look up at the sky. ”You’re from the states?” she said, or at least that’s what she assumed by his words. It didn’t really make a difference—Canadian or American, Brett wasn’t from her home. She didn’t really miss the country. Sure, that’s where she belonged and the people there were her own, but she never felt like it was a home. Her sisters were her home after all, not some stupid country whose police force had it out for her sister. She wondered how her sisters felt about their country of origin, but never felt the need to ask. There was a lot not said between them, a lot of ignorance and miscommunication. But of course, Altair wasn’t one to dwell on it. ”I’m guessing you don’t have a money for a hotel,” she said, just as tonelessly as him. It expressed a level of disinterest, even though she was expressing a higher level of caring about what he had to say than she usually did. ”Well, I’m not gonna judge. Just gonna warn you that your throat’ll get slit or some shit.” She added a shrug. It wasn’t exactly safe to be sleeping out there, but she wasn’t about to go all cautionary tale on him and tell him about her experiences or that she may run into some of the people she hung with. The kind of people who didn’t sit and have conversations like this.
”Sounds like you speak from experience,” she said, more focused on playing with the fire in her lighter now, distractedly tapping the ignition with manicured fingernails and creating shapes with the resulting fire. ”I wouldn’t want to sleep in that thing either.” She’d never had it so bad that she didn’t have a place to live. When she was younger, the triplets lived with their parents in a middle-class suburb where everything was provided for them. But that eventually fell apart. Even so, when they came to Canada they bought an apartment—not a flat, an apartment—and no matter how crappy it was, they still had a place to live. The Academy also provided boarding, which is where Altair stayed most of the time. More closet space for her, at least, even thoguh she had to share with other bitches. It wasn’t an odd thing for her to be called down to explain how one of the girls’ wardrobe went up in flames. She would never deny it, anyway.
She smirked when Brett complimented her ability to hold liquor. ”I’ve had quite a bit of practice,” she drawled. She drank a lot, after all, eventually she’d become rather conditioned. Besides, she never ended up in a gutter before, if only to avoid the cliché for the sake of it being cliché. In any case, alcohol had never really been a problem for her. She had a strong enough constitition for it. ”Besides, it’s pretty hard to get completely shitfaced on cheap beer.” She shrugged again, still toying with her lighter. ”I at least try to avoid the whole stumbling crap.” That wouldn’t be very attractive, would it? Altair always had an image to uphold, one of her arrogant demeanor. She was the best of the best, and she needed to show it at all times. Turning to look at Brett, she blinked a few times before saying, ”What makes you think you can keep me entertained?” It was a light challenge, and she only wanted to play around with him. Yes, Altair was quite the joker when she was in a good mood. It was the rarity of finding her in a good mood that made it quite unknown to others.
|
|
|
Post by brett on Sept 10, 2011 20:09:57 GMT -5
Brett was amazed at the amount of personal questions tonight. Really, the two were more or less strangers. He didn't even know the girl's last name, or at least couldn't remember it if it was mentioned. Moreover, he wasn't about to ask. It would just be weird to start building some kind of closeness at this point. Mutual indifference was easier, so why was that changing now? Why did she suddenly have questions about his personal life? Brett assumed that it was simply because she was intoxicated. He assumed that if she wasn't drunk, she wouldn't be talking to him right now. Or, if she did, it would lead to them winding up at a bar, which had happened before. "Yeah, I'm from a small town in Nevada. I take it you're from somewhere in the UK?" He didn't want the girl to have more information about him than he had on her - that was how reputations got destroyed. If some kind of collateral was established, they'd be less likely to give away any personal information. Brett wasn't all too worried, but he never knew what he'd say next. He wasn't smart enough to censor himself all the time, after all. When Altair asked if he could have put himself up in a hotel, he shook his head. If he did, he sure as hell wouldn't be hanging around on a park bench. "Not for a hotel and food." he said nonchalantly. He really didn't care about his situation. It was his choice, and he was living with it.
Brett just shrugged when she told him that he could get killed if he stayed out. There wasn't much else he could do with that. He didn't particularly want to die at the moment, but it wasn't like he'd really care if he was dead. If his consciousness suddenly ended, he'd have no way of knowing. Even if there happened to be an afterlife, he'd be fine in heaven or hell. Heaven had perks, hell had interesting people. It was a victory no matter what. Of course Brett spoke from experience when it came to sobriety tests. Sleeping in a car seemed like a good idea earlier in life, and it'd gotten him a DUI in the past. He really didn't want to lose his license if he had the ability not to. Not to mention, cooling in a cell over night wasn't something he wanted to do, even if it meant shelter. "Yeah," he stated simply. He actually didn't know Canada's drinking laws, but he didn't want to either. Brett just rolled his eyes at yet another car insult, showing a small smile at the same time. He could take a joke. Especially when it came to his car, which had certainly seen better days.
Seeing Altair playing with her lighter made Brett finally put two and two together about her element. "You're a fire, aren't you?" he asked. Obviously, he was right, but confirmation never hurt, no matter how dumb the question. As the girl explained why she was such a good drinker, Brett couldn't help but relate. They shared the higher tolerance for alcohol, but Brett always managed to get wasted on cheap beer. It took a while, but it wasn't like he was paying for it. "You do pretty well, I'd say," Brett said. Altair was pretty good when it came to managing to keep her footing while under the influence. Brett found it hard to keep from stumbling when he was wasted. It took a lot, but he was actually likely to end up in a gutter if the party was interesting enough. He was offered the challenge of keeping Altair entertained, and Brett knew that he would certainly be able to. "Definitely. I need a drink first though. You've got a head start on me," he said confidently. Brett wasn't nearly as fun when he wasn't wasted, and since Altair had already been drinking, he needed to catch up to her before they could start whatever adventure it was upon which they were about to embark. "Have anything in mind, or is it up to me?" he asked, trying to figure out what he could do to keep the girl entertained.
Tagged:: Altair Outfit:: Click Count:: 707 Notes:: I just realized how bad my past few posts have been. I'm so sorry! Dx
[/size]
|
|
|
Post by ALTAIR SABINA BENNETT on Sept 10, 2011 21:49:07 GMT -5
Altair rested her hands over her stomach, her demeanor rather relaxed and nonchalant. But she didn’t hold herself like some sleaze, oh no. That would be unacceptable. She just wasn’t emanating her usual predatorial aura. Which was good for Brett. If she could tolerate you sober, it was even better when she was smashed. ”England,” she replied simply. Altair wasn’t one to talk about where she’d come from or her past or any of that shit, which she was sure many people were like. She had always found it interesting, however, that Rowena almost seemed to have a different dialect than her and Syria. This was information she wasn’t about to share, however. It was pointless, trivial, and it would entertain only her. ”Here’s to hoping you don’t die of starvation over the summer.” She didn’t have beer or anything to toast him with, but the sentiment was still there. If he died, would it matter to her? No, it wouldn’t. And not because she was some heartless bitch. She had other people to worry about, and the ones who received that worry from her were her sisters. No one else mattered in her opinion. And yet, she was effectively neglecting the girls and their problems like the horrible eldest triplet she was.
Brett didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t push. She wasn’t a person interested in others’ lives, and besides, she kept a lot to herself. Not that she ever had the oppurtunity to sit down and have a connection with someone above fucking or fighting save for her sisters, and even that was a strained relationship. No one got into Altair and nothing got out—that’s how it was, and she was fine with it. She chose to be that way. Instead, they moved onto her element and she nodded in ascention. ”Tenth grade,” she said, because he probably didn’t know. ”Even though I’m seven-goddamn-teen years old, but…whatever.” The flash of surprisingly lucid anger in her had caused the lighter to momentarily grow in size before disappearing completely. ”I don’t know your element, though,” she said, kicking up the lighter again. She really didn’t have a clue, and her comment left him room to either answer or ignore her completely. Altair would be fine not knowing his element—and wasn’t like she got along with Fires, anyway, so element never mattered to her. She and her sisters just came to the Academy, after all, and for years before they had ignored their powers as their parents had wanted to. Just a little bit of revenge, she guessed. The sisters all shared a hatred for their parents.
Shrugging, Altair accepted what she said, and just let it hang in the air. Nothing she could really add to that. It didn’t really matter what more she could add on to commentary about being drunk when they’d already established her capability. ”Corrosion is nearby,” she said when Brett told her he needed a drink. Of course he would be up for a challenge. ”And don’t think that just because you’re homeless I’ll be buying you shit.” That was the truth—she was capable of speaking like a normal human being, but actually being nice and showing some generosity was not her style. She was selfish by nature, that wasn’t going to change when she was shitfaced. Surprising how that worked. Altair lazily studied his eyes with her still-sharp blue ones. ”I don’t know,” she said slowly, her eyes once again focused on the fire. ”I’m not in the right state of mind to be coming up with ideas right now.” She smirked a bit at this, flipping the Zippo closed. ”I’m not too picky though.” Anything to keep her preoccupied. For her, it was still early in the night.
|
|
|
Post by brett on Sept 11, 2011 17:17:16 GMT -5
Brett nodded as Altair shared her country of origin. He was half tempted to make small talk about it, ask what England was like and such, but decided that it wasn't worth the effort. Brett didn't care about travel, or seeing sights. He was good at creating his own environment, rather than taking in what was already there. Brett just had a way of turning every venue into some kind of fun, chaotic party, so where he really was didn't matter. The only thing that ever changed was the people, the backdrop was irrelevant. Brett really couldn't help but laugh at Altair's mock-toast. "Definitely. It'd just ruin the whole break for me if I went and died," he joked with a smile. This was actually turning out to be a fun conversation. Why weren't they all like this? They probably just caught each other at the best possible moment. It was amazing that they weren't just playing the whole game of being vague and not caring like they normally did. It was useful and time saving, sure, but friendly conversation sure beat it.
When Altair stated that she was in tenth grade, Brett's mind immediately began racing. What was the age of consent in Canada? What were the repercussions? She really looked older. He'd already slept with her before, and if this country was anything like back home, nothing good could come from that. Thankfully, Altair followed up the statement with her age, which certainly eased his mind. "God, that's ridiculous. So you have to sit through classes with all the brats instead of seeing people your own age? I'd kill myself." Brett didn't really have much against people who were younger than he was, but it was the typical high school senior mentality: those younger than he was were below him. He was the big fish, and if he was forced to be with all the guppies, he'd probably die of over-consumption after devouring them all. "I'm a thunder," he explained. "And I'm in twelfth grade, just for the record." He was in no way bragging, but it might have come across that way, seeing as he was stating that he was actually placed with people his age, unlike the poor girl sitting next to him.
Corrosion certainly sounded like a good idea. Brett adored clubs, and it was something to at least keep them busy until they found something better to do. "I don't need the charity yet, thanks," he said with a smirk. Brett wasn't really homeless, and didn't need handouts at this point. That might come by the end of break, but he was golden for now. It was always interesting how Brett associated eye contact with a challenge, or with judgment. Right now, Brett was attempting to figure out which of the two Altair was casting on him with her beautiful icy eyes, but as usual, he had no idea. Still, it was enough of a look that would get someone Brett didn't like beaten up. He would take it as a challenge, he had to show the girl the night of her life, which was surely easier said than done. He stood, casually stretching as he got on his feet. Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he offered Altair a hand up. He doubted she really needed it, seeing how great she was at moving while wasted. Still, he figured it was nice to offer. "I'm sure I'll be able to satisfy you, then. As soon as I get some liquor in me, that is," he said assuringly. Brett believed that he couldn't not be entertaining when he was drunk. It was just impossible for him.
Tagged:: Altair Outfit:: Click Count:: 602 Notes:: -
[/size]
|
|
|
Post by ALTAIR SABINA BENNETT on Sept 12, 2011 17:42:45 GMT -5
Probably the worst part about being placed in the tenth grade was people not taking her seriously. She didn’t look like a fifteen-year-old, god no. But the fact that her powers were underdeveloped and the Academy believed she couldn’t be placed in the right grade made people immediately assume she was stupid or younger than she actually was—Altair wasn’t fond of either of assumptions. ”People my own age are still brats,” she said with a smirk. Everyone to her was a brat or something similar. Brett was on her good side, though. It was difficult, and it may not have been a permanent thing, but it was possible to gain acquaintance status with her where not everything could be a possible fight for her. ”I s’pose I’m just a goddamn martyr.” Really, if it weren’t for the fact she actually liked her element—not the people in it, though, and she was still bitter about the fact that she was expected to get along with them—and that she wanted to stay with her sisters, she would have blown this joint long ago. She hated school, it just wasn’t for her. The girl just couldn’t sit and focus and listen to professors go on and on and on. Her detention list was miles longer than her list of good grades. ”I’ll be ninteen when I graduate high school, that’s bullshit,” she mumbled, more to herself than anything. Altair didn’t need Brett’s sympathy, she just enjoyed bitching. Though she did it with her equally displeased sisters more often, the boy was also a good sounding board to have. ”Whoopdee-fucking-do,” she said though the languid roll of her eyes as she tilted her head further to face his proved that she wasn’t at all bothered by the fact that he has in the grade she should have been in. A comment like that would have normally earned him a hard stare—right now she was just too out of it to care.
Altair hated mooches, so it was a good thing Brett wasn’t one. Well, in terms of needing drinks, it seemed. She didn’t help anyone, and she didn’t expect anyone to help her. Which is why when Brett offered his hand, she slapped her own against it and stood, perfectly steady on her heels. Would it be wise for her to have a few more beers or even something harder? Probably not, but Altair didn’t make wise decisions. She was clever when she wanted to be, but that didn’t translate well into her current drunken state. ”Bloody confident, aren’t we?” she said, stretching her arms over her head and glancing over at Brett. But hey, she couldn’t argue. He kept her entertained, so he had a right to be proud of his ability to be an interesting person. Plus, there was always some kind of adventure to be had downtown. It was a place that lived off of danger—nothing too extreme, but enough to keep her satisfied when it counted. Her cigarette now smoked down to a butt, she fished another one out of the crumpled pack in her back pocket, trying to light up but finding herself out of lighter fluid. It was about damn time actually, but she groaned. ”Gotta light?” she inquired. It was rather pathetic that she was a Fire student in need of fire, but such was life.
|
|
|
Post by brett on Sept 14, 2011 21:24:22 GMT -5
In all honesty, Brett was amazed that he'd made it to twelfth grade without at least being held back once. He wasn't smart in general, but when it came to academics, Brett was even worse. He was a burn out, and he didn't even have a drug supply. Right now, he was just a borderline alcoholic who liked to party, and usually that was enough to ruin a kid's chances of graduating. He didn't sleep often, and when he did it was morel like death than slumber - just passing out wherever he happened to be at the time. He had to wonder about the kids that did get held back due to academic causes. They must have been unable to function. He had to wonder about Altair, not that he was going to ask. That was obviously a touchy subject, after all, she was two grades below Brett. How much lower could you get?
"You have a point," Brett stated with a grin when the girl informed him that people their age were still brats. Brett didn't agree one hundred percent with that statement, but he really didn't like the majority of the people that he'd met. It didn't matter about age, or element, or gender, or anything else. If someone didn't immediately strike Brett as entertaining, he tended to hate them. This led to bullying, and fights, which led to detention, which led to more hate, which led to more bullying and fights. There was a whole vicious cycle devoted solely to Brett's resent of a lot of the kids in the academy, and people his age in general. The trouble was that people weren't willing to have enough fun. The way Brett saw it, people only lived once, so they should shoot to make their lives one that had was worth living. Other people must have disagreed, but Brett didn't think people like Altair did. That was probably why he admired her so much. He just laughed when the fire student called herself a martyr. Brett didn't even think that she was exaggerating at that point. Being two years back was worse than torture, he just hoped that she was suffering for a worthy cause. As the girl tilted her head closer to his, he smirked and locked eyes with her. "Sorry, that came out braggy, didn't it?" he replied, shaking some hair into his face, before brushing it away with his thumb and looking away from the girl. "Didn't mean for it to, honest." It was rare to get an apology from him. He'd managed to insult a guy's girlfriend in the vulgarest of ways, get beaten to a pulp, and still hadn't apologized. It was a big deal when he said he was sorry, even when it was about something almost insignificant.
Brett crossed his arms behind his head as he started walking beside Altair. Of course he acted confident. The insecure got eaten alive out in the real world. It was a jungle, it was dog eat dog, and Brett was determined to come out on top no matter what. It wasn't like he could just come out and say that though, no one got into his head, that wasn't how it worked. Everyone got the surface with Brett. As far as everyone else was concerned, what you saw was exactly what you got. Nothing more, nothing less. "I'm pretty sure I have good reason to be confident, I mean look at me," he joked. He could put on a good act when he wanted to. When the girl asked for a light, Brett quickly obliged. It was rare for him not to have at least a lighter on his person. Pulling it out of his pocket, he flicked the igniter and held the flame out toward the girl. The sad thing was that the whole bit of irony was completely lost on him about a fire kid needing fire. He was still just amazed that fire didn't freak him out more after he was nearly destroyed by that Dale kid. Something in him thought that he should have been post traumatic after that, but his mind seemed to be either too strong or too weak for that.
Tagged:: Altair Outfit:: Click Count:: 704 Notes:: Sorry this took so long. >.<
[/size]
|
|
|
Post by ALTAIR SABINA BENNETT on Sept 17, 2011 12:18:09 GMT -5
She smirked in Brett’s direction, taking a strand of his hair between her fingers and drawing in closer so that their noses almost touch. ”I wouldn’t bother if you weren’t a cocky bastard,” she told him, humor fleeing her face as she drew away. If he didn’t have any confidence, she mostly wouldn’t have bothered even communicating with him. Doormats like the Earths she used as punching bags were useless and boring outside of abuse. Eventually, she shrugged and said, ”Whatever. I don’t even give a flying fuck right now about what grade I’m in. I know how good I am, and I don’t need anyone else to tell me what I can and can’t do.” Her confidence was not something that needed to be bolstered by approval of others—her ego was over-inflated, probably made that way because of her previous modelling. When you had everyone looking up at you with admiration and approval, it was hard to think you were anything other than incredible. In any case, she didn’t want to talk about the Academy anymore. School was done for the summer, and she would just enjoy the time she had for debauchery that was usually saved for the weekend if she wanted to survive sitting in a dreary classroom full of the brats the two had been previously talked about.
She leant over a bit so the flame danced over the stick, and she let out a breath of smoke before muttering, ”I’ll be torching fuckers without a catalyst soon enough.” She scowled as she thought. It was a weakness that she couldn’t manifest her powers on her own, something she didn’t really like to acknowledge and that she wouldn’t have even bothered with in a less inebriated state. She would have just gone without another cigarette if it meant maintaining her dignity, but as they made their way to Corossion she could care less. It was funny, realizing what she did and didn’t care about. What she cared about? Her appearances and her sisters. What didn’t she care about? Anything else.
Entering the club, she carried herself with all the self-respect and confidence of someone who was not as inebriated as her. Altair pushed through the crowd in front of the bar, not giving a damn about their protests as she got a rum and coke. She definitely didn’t need it, but she wanted it. ”I’m waiting,” she told Brett as she tried not to down the drink. That would have rather negative repurcussions, and she did not want to spend the rest of the night puking in a scummy club’s toilet. ”When I get bored, I need to fight. You don’t want to fight me, do you?” Again with her challenging words, she crossed her arms and lifted her eyebrows at him. He was probably one of the people who managed to avoid so much as her slapping him across the face. Well, she didn’t slap all that much. She fought more like a man—she did a lot of things like men, but there was no denying that she was all woman. It was just a matter of balancing the qualities to be what in her mind was a perfect human being. "If not," she went on, drawing out the words. "I just may have to do something else...reckless." She looked around as if trying to find what this thing would be, her eyes moving slowly over the sweaty, dancing crowd.
|
|
|
Post by brett on Sept 17, 2011 15:44:14 GMT -5
The one downside to hair like Brett's was that if someone had a hold of it, they pretty much had control over him. It was a severe disadvantage in a fight, but most people at this school tried not to get that close, unlike Brett, who always tried to go hand to hand and nothing more. His hair was also his weakness when it came to romance, sex, and the like. If someone could play with his hair right, he was putty in their hands, and would pretty much give up on any attempt of fighting for dominance. Still, when Altair drew him in, he felt neither overpowered nor sedated as he usually did. Looking into her eyes as she smirked at him and told him that it was good that he was so cocky, he actually had the urge to kiss her. That was weird for him. They'd already fucked once. That was usually when he just stopped caring and started to turn his attention elsewhere, or when he decided to just be friends - or whatever it was that he and Altair were. He couldn't actually like the girl, that was just ridiculous. To avoid embarrassment and frustration on his part, he decided to just give his best pokerface. The beauty was that Brett had pretty much managed to make himself seem confident and simple no matter what he was feeling, that was just his nature. Brett showed a grin, looking as bravely into her eyes as possible. "I'm glad I can live up to your standards," he said sarcastically with a roll of his eyes.
Altair had the right idea. Brett wished that he could have lived without other people's constantly telling him how great he was. He needed eyes on him. His name had to be on everyone's lips at every given moment. Then again, it was probably because he didn't believe in himself, and Altair definitely seemed to have complete faith in herself. That was enviable. She was actually pretty incredible though, she managed to be exciting and enigmatic at the same time. Brett wasn't interesting, he had to act out to get every bit of attention. Maybe that was just his sobriety talking though. "You're totally right, you're pretty incredible," he said in a nonchalant manner. He wasn't going to blatantly hit on her just because he wanted to kiss her a minute ago, but compliments surely wouldn't hurt. He laughed when Altair muttered about her powers. "Remind me not to get on your bad side," he joked, absentmindedly pushing up a sleeve of his hoodie to touch one of the the burn marks on his arms. Fire was stronger than thunder, and he'd learned that the hard way.
Following the fire student to the bar, he waited for her to order before he asked the bartender for a kamikaze. He usually wasn't one to order a mixed drink, but beer wouldn't be strong enough right now. Downing the drink as fast as he could, he shrugged at Altair's asking if they should fight. "Looks like we have that in common, but I think we could do better than that, don't you?" he asked casually. Fighting was great and all, but he wasn't going to do it here, and he certainly didn't want to fight Altair. Even if there weren't elements involved, he had the disadvantage. As much as he lacked a general sense of morality, he still could never bring himself to hit girls, even if they wanted him to. God, that sounded like an even more twisted version of Fight Club. His Tyler Durden was a chick who could manipulate fire. That was a frightening thought. "What do you have in mind?" he asked. His liquor wasn't kicking in yet, so if the girl had any ideas, he'd be more than happy to oblige until he started thinking more excitingly.
Tagged:: Altair Outfit:: Click Count:: 648 Notes:: I think this is the most inner conflict Brett's experienced in his entire life. xD
[/size]
|
|
|
Post by ALTAIR SABINA BENNETT on Sept 17, 2011 17:44:31 GMT -5
Altair had to wonder why she could tolerate Brett. It wasn’t because they’d shagged, she knew hat. She’d become pro at seperating emotion from sex. Feelings meant complications. Altair was straightforward and blunt. She didn’t like for things to become twisted and convoluted, she didn’t like for feelings to become involved in anything. Perhaps it was because he always had perfect timing, and he said the right things, and she didn’t feel like his presence was a sore in her life. That was how she felt with most others. There was a reason she was as unsociable and confrontational as she was—not only did nature dictate so, but that was how she got by. Through the fight. It was something as uncomplicated as fucking, in the same vein almost. Okay, so maybe it was the sex. Since she’d gotten that with him, violence was so similar for her that she didn’t bother. Or perhaps she just didn’t know, and didn’t care. She didn’t think too hard about things, even when it came to her life. She didn’t respond to what he said—yes, he impressed her, and that was quite a difficult thing to do.
With a shrug of her shoulders, she said, ”Oh, I know.” Never thanking, of course, because why thank for something you deserve? She never thanked anyone for anything, because in her mind, she rightfully got anything she had. She worked every day of her life, had been working for a while. ”It’s an easy thing to do,” she spoke around her cigarette, a barely veiled warning. ”Consider yourself someone I can tolerate.” Friendship? No, Altair didn’t do friendships. That meant having a connection with someone and putting work into being around them and it was too much trouble. It was strange, then, that she could easily converse with Brett even without being smashed without any trouble involved. Don’t think, you’re head is swimming. Just a little bit, but nothing so bad as to totally kill her equilibrium. She noticed him push up his sleeve and a burn there. ”Seems like you’ve got on another wanker’s bad side anyway,” she said. Altair left it open for whether or not he wanted to respond to that and fill her in. Did she care about this? In a way, yes. She was at least curious. Unbeknownst to her, they had a common enemy in Dale. She’d fucked with his girlfriend and the ensuing fight was something she didn’t consider a loss because she’d passed out before completing it. ”Fire is not something you Thunders want to fuck with.” They had the upperhand, after all, and it made her wonder how exactly he got into a confrontation with one. She fought with anyone she could, but was Brett like that? She didn’t think so. Not like she knew him well, though.
Apparently, he was like that. But he wouldn’t fight her? Any other time that would have earned him a pussy comment, but she merely shrugged it off and drank. It was amazing just how affable she could be when she was content. But affability only lasted in short bursts with her. It wouldn’t be long before she was ready to tear out throats—sometimes everything just got too real for her. She lifted an eyebrow and leaned in close. She wasn’t stupid, and even though she was a transfer student, she understand that things about the Academy were not to be discussed in places like Corrosion. ”You’re a Thunder student, right?” she said, looking around almost conspiratorily at the other people. ”Give me a demonstration of your power.” She stepped back and tilted her head back, finishing up her drinks. She wondered how he would treat that, if he could figure out a way to show her his powers in Thunder without giving what he was doing away. It was dangerous and stupid, but that’s what her life was built on.
(*pets brett* oh, i shall enjoy destroying you. >D *fangasms over Fight Club reference)
|
|
|
Post by brett on Sept 17, 2011 18:57:37 GMT -5
Altair was pretty smart not to tell Brett that he impressed her. Had she done that, she would have lost the advantage in their mutual tolerance. If Brett didn't know that the girl wasn't judging him negatively, he'd have stopped trying so hard, and that would mean that she'd have lost her dominant edge. If she was like him, those little things would be important to her. Usually, Brett was the one who led conversation, or made all the plans, or was on top in bed, or won the fights, but there were times when that kind of thing didn't always pan out. He'd never lost conversational dominance before, at least not to a peer. This was alien, and it made him feel like he was the girl's bitch for the moment, but he could deal with it as long as he enjoyed her company. Brett let out a laugh when Altair just shrugged off his compliment with the simple response that she knew how fantastic she was. Why wouldn't she though? She was one of the only girls who could keep Brett's attention for this long, and that was saying something.
Brett actually found it surprising that Altair was hard to get along with. It wasn't really hard to believe, she was really cold and hard to deal with a lot of the time, especially when she was sober, but Brett was actually beginning to think that whole attitude was just with him. Apparently he was actually one of the lucky ones. That was a pleasant surprise. Brett hadn't even realized that he was showing his wound to the girl. He had a habit of subconsciously touching his injuries if they came into his head. He smiled an embarrassed smile when the girl told him that he'd already managed to get on someone's bad side. With a soft laugh, he shook his head. "I kind of have a habit of getting on people's bad sides," he admitted in a quiet and sober tone. It was rare that he'd actually admit to a fault of his to another person, and this was about as intimate as he could get. "I decided that it'd be fun to piss off this kid named Dale, and managed beaten until I couldn't move anymore. I guess I'm just stupid." That was his cold admission of the truth. The thing was, he wasn't entirely bitter about getting smacked around by the college student, because it was his fault. It was probably one of the most humiliating moments of his year thus far, and it wasn't something he was proud of sharing. He had to wonder why he did. There wasn't really a benefit to it. He shouldn't fuck with fire kids? Wow, that was certainly news to him. "No shit," he replied coolly with a smile, trying to push back the chagrining admission that he'd just made.
Brett had actually expected to be called a pussy after denying to fight Altair, just because that was what he would do. His way of thinking was that others would do onto him as he did onto them, so he expected people to mock him and give him shit every chance they had. It was what he did to Josh to get him to fight to begin with, but Brett didn't have a girlfriend to insult. Lucky him. As the girl leaned in to whisper to him, he joined her in looking around suspiciously. The thunder student replied with a nod and a quiet "yeah." As he heard the rest of the girl's request, he lifted an eyebrow. "Really? What's in it for me?" he asked. It wasn't like he wouldn't do it anyway, but a reward would have been nice in a situation like this. He could get in a lot of trouble for showing his powers in front of normal people, but it would certainly be exciting. Brett closed his eyes and sighed. Were he more intoxicated, he would have put on the facade of Thor or Zeus. He always thought of himself as a thunder god when he was inebriated. Sober, it was a little more difficult. When he was sober, he knew that he had weaknesses. He also wished that he could manipulate thunderbolts already, but that was to be learned later. He turned his attention to a strobe light across the room when he opened his eyes, focusing his energy on it and making the light flash faster until the bulb exploded, sending glass flying over unsuspecting people who were just looking for a good time. Brett never liked using his power for some reason, but disrupting others having a good time was always entertaining. Misery did love company, after all.
Tagged:: Altair Outfit:: Click Count:: 788 Notes:: Are you a Palahniuk fan as well? Or just Fight Club? If the former, we must run away together at once.
[/size]
|
|