The Reform Academy (IC)

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Mz. Hyde, Jul 22, 2014.

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  1. Glycerin stood outside an old school building . He looks up at the old building, engraved into the front was St. Agatha's Reform School. He couldn't understand why he was sent here. So what if he had committed a murder and arson, it was fun and he had nothing else better to do. It seemed to him that the adults were simply saying that he didn't know how to play nice with others. He sighs and then goes into the school. He opens one of the cold metal doors and walks in. Every thing looked like a normal school, except there were bars and parts of a chain-link fence on the all the windows. And there were tons of security cameras everywhere. Watching them at all times, except when they used to bathroom. He rolled his eyes. I should have killed my parole officer and took off. He thinks. He looks around, seeing some of the teachers. They were dressed really nice and looked liked of snooty. I hope these teachers aren't stuck up or they and I will have a problem He thinks. They were told to meet in the cafeteria which was huge. All the students could fit in it and then some. He goes in and sits down at random table.



    A boy comes up to the table and decides to sit down. “The name is Shane.” He says. The Glycerin looks at him, and his expression was just a chaotic grin He nods. “The name is Glycerin” he says. Shane looks at Glycerin curiously, “Why Glycerin?” he asks. Glycerin shrugs, “I didn't have any parents to name me, and that was the first thing that popped into my head.” He says with a crazy smirk. Glycerin noticed that the other boy gave him a weird look and also noticed that he was studying him very closely. Probably noticing that he was wearing gothic clothing and a gas mask. More people began to come into the cafeteria. He noticed that it was a mixture of both boys and girls. They were all sitting down and waiting for someone to speak. A few large boys come up to the other boy and Glycerin. Glycerin looks at the boys who had came up to him and Shane. Glycerin had heard his parole officer- when he was listening- that he said that he would sent here because he was considered very unstable and needed to be "molded" for society. He just studies them. Oh, goody! I might be able to have some fun and liven this place up! He thinks with a smirk.



    The boys all look at Glycerin “What are you smirkin' about?”one asks. Of course he continues to smirk, it was a crazy psychotic up to no good smirk. “I'm wondering how much fun we can have” Glycerin says with a goofy smirk on his face. The big boys just look at him like he was nuts “What the hell does that crap mean?” One asks. Glycerin smirks again. “Well you came over here didn't you? You wanted to see if I wanted to have some fun.” He says. The big boys laugh. “This guy, has to be kidding right? He is out of his mind, he's a nut case.” Another says. Glycerin stands up and punches one in the face. Then he leans over him with a demonic look to his face “Oh I never kid around, that is one of my least favorite things to do.” He says. He then raises his hand and an object that looked like a bomb appeared. "Oh goody look a toy, that we can play with. Shall we play a game?" He asks with an evil psychotic laugh. The boys look at him and then at each other. “W-who are you?”one asks. “Glycerin,” he says. The other boys then look at each other again. "Let's get out of here! He's nuts!" One shouts and they all back up and run. A teacher had seen what was going on and called for security to break them up. Once broken up, Glycerin sits down and continues to smirk. THe other boy was watching the scene before him. He just shakes his head head. Then he looks over at Glycerin “I think you made them piss themselves.”He says. Glycerin continues to smirk. “Oh, I did...oops.” He says. Shane just looks at him and just simply nods.



    Soon a tall man comes up to a podium. He clears his throat. “Good morning, you are all here, because you have either done some really bad crimes or just don't know how to get along in society, so you were sent here to learn how to.”He says. “Now if you go over to the table next to my right, you will get your schedule, dorm room number, locker number and locker combination.” He says. “Please remember that violence is not tolerated, and you will be either sent to The Detention Hall immediately or sent to my office, the principal.” He says. The others began to talk among themselves. Glycerin rolls his eyes, Lovely, I'm at some crackpot school trying to make me play nice He thinks as he rolls his eyes again. I'll play nice for now Glycerin thinks as he gets in line.
     
  2. The sun was shining and birds were chirping, well until they were frozen solid by Viola. They would chirp a beautiful song and soon they were frozen in ice with a gesture of her hand. Just watching them fall into the concrete and crack into pieces made her sweet grin became deranged. It was the only way to pass the time while riding in the back of a police car to a different form of prison. Especially since the officers wasn't paying much attention to her. They were loud, rude and all around obnoxious while they listened to their baseball game. To Viola it was a weird form of torture. The judge that decided her sentencing was a softy. Where did he get the idea, the very thought she could change her ways. To integrate back into society and become slightly normal... To her it was more of a bother. There was no such things as normal since society was always changing. Viola didn't need to mention that life in society was undoubtedly boring. She hoped that this school or whatever to was would fair well with her.

    Upon arriving to the school it was large and quite old. The windows were barred and fenced up, to keep them well inside. Viola sighed a bit as officers took her out of the car, but wouldn't take the handcuffs off her. "Come on boys... Do I really need these handcuffs?" She asked with an innocent look on her face. Her lips gave a slight pout and quivered slightly as she held out her arms to be freed. "Orders are orders miss. We can't take them off you." The officer stated and started to walk her inside. "Please, you two are so nice to me. I wouldn't hurt you two, honest." Viola was hoping that two would take them off. Maybe she could make her escape and do as she pleased with her life. The officers exchanged looks and were questioning if the handcuffs were too much. Just when freedom was a simple key away her older brother Cello stepped in. "I suggest you keep the handcuffs on her. Viola may look innocent but don't let that fool you. She's here for a reason, is she not?" He asked while opening the doors for her. Viola glared at him and walked inside. The halls were long but he was only leading her to the cafeteria for the morning speech before getting settled. "You just had to butt in didn't you Cello. I wouldn't be wearing these damn things if you'd let them do as I asked." Viola face went back to her doll like state. Expressionless with brighten eyes. "I don't need you to escape and go on a killing spree. This is for your own good. Mom and dad didn't want to see you rot in jail, neither did the judge. So just make the best out of the time you stay here." Cello sounded a bit run down by all of this. The family had to move away to a different town because everyone hated them. They blamed the whole family by the actions of one person. It wasn't safe to live in their home town. Viola simply rolled her eyes with the fact that she honestly didn't care.

    Looking around there was a ton of security cameras, all which as staring at her. "With all of these security cameras I'm surprised they didn't ask to plant one up our asses." Viola shook her head a bit at the sight of these cameras, but her brother simply stayed quiet. After a turn and another long hallway they made it to the cafeteria. It was larger than she had been expecting, with people from all walks of life barely filling the room. She turned to the cops and the unlocked her handcuffs. The sounds of the tumblers clicking to release each hand was music to her ears. How she wished it was while they were outside. "Just be good, Viola. It's not that hard." Those were the last words Cello said before leaving her on her own. Viola wasn't someone to socialize and such so she sat alone. It didn't bother her, never did while she grew up.

    The Principal came to the podium and gave his welcome to reform school speech. Viola barely listened to the man, all she knew was that violence wasn't tolerated. Viola wouldn't get into barbaric fights, no that would be useless. The trespasser would still be alive, so eliminating their existence would be best. Down side to the idea, possibly being sent into prison. Viola wanted to be out of here, so flying under the radar was probably best. That sounded a lot harder. How in the world could someone with pale skin, (on the verge of being blue) and white was suppose to fly under the radar? Viola simply sighed a bit and got in line to receive her schedule, dorm room and locker number with the combination. First order of business was to find this dorm room of her.
     
    #2 Sairen, Jul 22, 2014
    Last edited: Jul 23, 2014
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  3. Memory could not serve well enough the drive from “home” to the reform academy. Christine swam in retrospect instead; the cold kiss of morphine welcomed such isolation, such self-loathing. Any and all eyes left her frame as if dusting off some moral obligation, even her parents shrugged her departure with a mild wave and “good luck” frowns.

    It was if the world folded in upon itself, leaving behind one dream for another, but she did not agree with the ideals her therapist or parents had to offer. At least not at face value.

    Bit by bit, incoherent echoes faded into reason, words that she could understand. Her driver, a long-time employee of her parents, and the therapist spoke of simple matters in an uneasy tone…as if to avoid the tension that wrapped so tightly around the back seat.

    “…no, I think it is probably one of the better remakes of the time,” said the driver. Doctor Carter, the therapist, gave a simple laugh to shrug off his obvious disagreement. His counterargument found a quick end as motion settled them to a slow and cease. By now, her eyes were open and face contorted with the displeasure of near awareness.

    It took her a moment to realize the passing of one moment to the next when the driver suddenly opened her door with a gesture to exit. “It’s time.” Another moment, stagger and groan later, she found her company on either arm escorting her down a hall; cameras, windows and a foreign smell reeled her senses into reality with every given step. No sooner than they reach the entrance to the cafeteria did she shrug them from her arms. “I can walk myself.” She said with little substance.

    Her presence did not receive the welcome her mother or father could approve for: looks of indifference, or none at all, as if the world did not stop for her as it could in her previous life. A smile brushed across those pale lips of hers at this idea. “Might not be such a bad place after all.”

    Of course, neither her driver nor her therapist gave any indication of hearing her as each made their separated path: the driver back to the car, the therapist to one of the staff members of the facility (no doubt to discuss whatever concerns or what-have-yous).

    Finding her seat, Christine looked across the way at a small scuffle between a guy and three others, only to find her eyes across another as she entered…also with escorts. Neither time nor inclination found themselves to note any supernatural events within any given timeframe of her arrival, but it isn’t as if she’d have the sobriety to argue against logic either way.

    “Good morning,” a voice began. She could hear but did not dare to listen just yet. A game it is, as it were, for she knew one structured place before and had serious doubts that this could differ from the others. No, her attention, what she could muster, floated on by those staff members present and those around her. Reception meant such a great deal. Impressions were keys to some successes…or failures.

    She stood as the others did if only a bit more sluggishly, to collect what little information made available from the facility. “Time to see my new home.”
     
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