The Seer

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by luvablelilmonster, Sep 14, 2012.

  1. Amanda Webber rudged toward the school, a quiet cloud of despair hanging over her. She had no solid clue where she was going, but she had asked a few storeclerks and they had pointed her toward Uncommon School. What an odd, yet suited name for a school, she thought to herself. Especially for me, seeing as I am... uncommon. She took a deep breath and nearly gagged. She was still not used to this thick London air, even after having lived here for three months. Her aunt and uncle said this was the cleanest this air had ever been. She shuddered in disgust as she thought of thick black smog covering the city. She kept her head down most of the time, only speaking in mumbles to herself and short sentences to the storeclerks. She didn't want to be here. She didn't want to go to a new school. She felt the heat of tears well up inside her as she thought of the day her parents sent her away, telling her it would be for her best interest, and she would be happier here. They didn't understand that no matter where she was, she'd never be happy, never be normal. As she thought back, she absently pulled her thin leather gloves that matched her skin tone perfectly from her jacket pocket and slipped them on. That way, if she did accidentaly touch someone she wouldn't see anything and the teachers wouldn't be looking at her close enough to notice she had gloves on. She bit ehr lip as she approached the huge stone building and couldn't help but roll her eyes as she thought of Hogwarts. As if she were a magical witch that would save the world and be loved by everyone. She shook her head and clutched her bag to her chest as she crept into the already crowded building, dodging people and weaving through the crowd gracefully, thanks to ballet classes. She managed to find her first class, where she sat all the way in the back and waited for the first bell to tone. She watched teens file in, a couple staring at her as if she were an alien with three heads. She shifted, letting her bag rest on her desk long enough to allow her hands to fall to the hem of her dark blue pleated skirt. She'd always hated skirts. She pulled the hem down to hide her legs as best as she could, but with the dress barely reaching halfway down her thighs, she knew it wouldn't help. She sighed inwardly and returned to clutching her bag as if she was ready to run.
  2. Holding over his shoulder the hooded coat that the school never allowed him to wear inside, Ryan Gething walked down the hall, occasionally bumping into someone on the way, exchanging a brief "Sorry". There were such better things he could think of rather than coming to school today. He could only hope that he would have a chance to do one of them after school. He walked into the classroom and looked at the clock. I'm not late this time. Sweet. He turned and walked to the back of the room, towards his desk. Only... there was someone sitting there already.

    Ryan frowned. She seemed nervous, scared almost, like she was ready to bolt at the first sign of danger. In truth, he almost felt sorry for her. Ryan was someone who seemed to carry a dark cloud over his head, something that kept his acquaintances from becoming close friends, and kept strangers away. He was not, however; unkind. He tossed the coat over the chair of the desk next to her, claiming it, and leaned a hand on her desk, looking down at the nervous, unfamiliar girl. "You new here, yeah? Don't worry. This place is... easy. So what are you in for?" His voice was gruff and stern, but it carried no form of hostility. He asked the question as if he were asking a convict why they were in prison. Which made sense. No one came to Uncommon School unless something was wrong with them.
  3. Amanda was deep in thought when the others began to flood in and take their seats. A couple pretty girls began pointing and giggling, obviously making fun of Amanda's naturally violet hair and eyes. Amanda had tried dying her hair and wearing contacts, but nothing seemed to cover her oddities very well, so she had given up a year ago and accepted it. Some people who she knew really well called her Violet or Lavender, but no one else or she would get angry. She bit her lip and dropped her head a bit, her forhead resting on the canvas top of her bag as her black fingernails dug into the sides. She knew she looked creepy, like a goth, but she wasn't. When people got to know her, they would joke about how her hair should be bright blond, not purple. She thought of her only friend back in Wisconsin, Amelia. She'd never met anyone as awesome as that girl. She sighed deeply and looked up as someone spoke to her in a deep voice that made her shiver. She looked over at a tall guy who was looking at her with slight curiosity. She blushed a bit and listened as he asked her why she was there then she shrugged a bit. She wasn't much for talking to people, but she figured she would make an exception for this guy who was being nice enough to ask. She spoke, her voice smooth and soft.

    "My parents shipped me here because they think I'm weird. And they'd be right. You?"

    Attached Files:

  4. Yeah, they would be right... Right about this girl who dyed her hair purple and wore contacts to make her eyes a different color. No one should have hair and eyes like that normally, right? But he held his tongue and instead answered her question. "Yeah, no other school would take me. I cause too much trouble sometimes." Anyone would make an assumption like that just by looking at him. Outside of school, he dressed in baggy cargo pants, his hooded jacket, and boots; far different from the London norm. His blonde hair hung down in front of his eyes and his demeanor was usually less than friendly to a stranger. At school, the only thing that did not change was his hooded coat and, as much as the Headmaster hated it, his boots.

    He glanced up to see a few of his friends pass by behind her and make various rude, silent gestures in his direction, all meaning the same thing: "Look at Ryan! Gettin' him some!" He looked back down at the girl sitting at the desk and spoke again, trying to make conversation. "They shipped you here, huh? Means that they're not in London, right? So who're you living with then? A relative?" He waited for another moment before speaking again. "Never got your name. Ryan." he said, offering his own. He reached out a hand for her to shake while she told him her own name. "Don't be shy. I don't bite too hard. And I won't hurt you unless you deserve it." he said jokingly. Although a joking tone for Ryan was not much of a change from his serious tone. It could really only be picked up by the slight, out of place smirk he now wore on his face.

  5. Amanda could hear the hesitance in this strqange guy's voice. 'Great, awesome. Another one who thinks I'm a freak that likes to dye my hair and wear contacts. What if he knew this is me normally?' She thought to herself as she looked up at him. Trouble? No. He didn't know what trouble was.

    "I wouldn't have known. I would have known that you're spirited, like to be different because you'd rather be you and not one of the crowd. I wouldn't have jumped to negative conclusions or thought you a freak as you think I am. No, my hair is not dyed. No I am not wearing contacts. If you want to say something, just say it. Especially to me. I'd rather you be honest and speak your mind instead of dancing around things." She paused, realizing she had pulled some thoughts from his mind unwillingly, but she brushed it off as a lucky guess. She bit her lip gently then answered him, her voice more cautious.

    "I'm staying with my aunt and uncle on my father's side." Lie one. She had begun counting the lies she told. She actually lived alone. She did live with a single old woman, a Miss Drangdum, but she had keeled over a week after Amanda's arrival, so the apartment was hers now. "And I'm not shy. Just careful. Please don't bite me, You would not like the concequences, and if you hurt me, I will give you twice the pain." She knew he was joking, but she was serious. She didn't like threats, not even joking, from strangers. She trusted no one. She noticed his extended hand and smiled a bit, reaching out with her own, remembering the leather glove as she gingerly took his hand and shook it a bit before releasing it.
  6. Ryan took a step back, surprised at her sudden dark tone. Then, surprising even to him, he smiled and let out a laugh, shaking her hand. "You want me to say what I think honestly? Fine. I think you're weird. The weirdest person I've ever met." He glanced around to be sure no instructor was within earshot and said "But I also think you don't take shit from anybody. That's really cool, you know?" He reached forward and poked her forehead, a friendly gesture, coming from him, and turned around to sit in his seat, grinning to himself and thinking about the interesting new person he just met, but totally unaware of her power and what she was seeing...

    The Past:
    Father; drunken, angry, violent. The beatings come often, for long times. No one, wife nor son, is safe from the fists, the bruises, the blood, or the broken bones. Mother; crying, bloodied, angry, protective of the son, but always taking out her anger on him, a needle in her hand, jammed into the vein on her arm, used to compensate, to calm down. Son; huddled in a corner, blonde hair hanging in front of his face, crying, surrounded by broken bottles and used syringes, none used by him, all used by the ones he loves, all abused by the ones he loves. Hatred brews. Not against the people using them, but against the evil things themselves... and the people supplying them.

    The Present:
    The father; replaced. Not by another, but by a hollow shell, an empty reminder of the man that once was. Still violent, still angry, still drunken. The mother; gone, replaced. By a rock, a sign of a soul moved on. A tombstone. The weak, sad, crying son; replaced. By a man, a warrior, a vigilante. He fights. Fights back against the things and the people that wronged his father and took away his mother. Never giving up, never giving in, always ready to draw his weapon and face his enemy, always trying to fix what went wrong, but still trying to lead a normal life... and failing.

    The Future:
    Nothing... The blackness of death, not even a father caring enough to pay for the tombstone. Tonight; two shadowy figures atop a building under construction. Heaving, pushing, shoving a heavy metal beam towards the edge. Their target; the boy with blonde hair. Standing next to the building, waiting for his enemies, but no knowing of their plan. The beam falls and lands. Under it, the crushed bones, blood, and gore that was once Ryan...
  7. As the images and visions filled her head like fireworks behind her eyes she gasped and cried out quietly, hands covering her ears as if to keep the flood of pain and anger and depressiona ndd eath and every negative thought from flooding out. Her eyes clamped shut, her face draining of its color, tears falling from her eyes as if she herself was going through all of that pain at once. She curled into a ball in her deskchair, rocking a bit and whimpering as she saw what once was, what now is, what will be. When the explosions, the anger, the beatings, the loss, the visions ended, she was left curled into a pained, shaking ball with twenty pairs of eyes staring at her. Slowly, ever-so-slowly, she relaxed, letting her shoes drop carefully back to the floor, tiptoes brushing against linoleum as if she were afraid it would give way under just the weight of her foot before setting the whole show down, her violently shaking hands releasing her head and dropping lifelessly in slow motion to the desk, her tear-streaked face, still white as a sheet of paper, untwisting from it's horrified expression. Finally, her wide, sparkling purple eyes opened and she looked around the room as if no one was there, staring at her. As if she were seeing right through every person in the room. Carefully, as if motorized, her head swiveled to look at Ryan with those wide wet eyes. What he'd been through. What he was going through now. She looked right into those deep eyes, his eyes that were holding and hiding so much pain and emotion, and said nothing for a moment. When she finally spoke, her voice came soft but sure, unwavering and sincere. She spoke in a whisper she knew no one but him would hear or understand.

    "I'm sorry you are so alone."

    Then, as if nothing had happened, she pulled a notebook and pencil from her bag and began writing what the teacher was saying, diligently taking notes.
  8. Ryan stared at her as she huddled herself into a ball and whimpered and cried. What was going on? All he did was poke her. Maybe she had a phobia about being touched and maybe he really should expect double the pain later. As she calmed down, he thought that maybe he should go be sure she was alright, but being the probably source of her breakdown, he thought that might not be a good idea. When she turned and looked directly into his eyes, he stared for a second or two more and then looked down at the floor, embarrassed. For some reason, he just couldn't bring himself to look into her piercing, violet eyes.

    His head snapped back up at her words, his eyes wide in surprise. What? What did she mean? It's not like he was... Surely he did not say anything that would have given away how he felt... how his life was... He was about to ask her exactly what she meant, when the teacher told him to face forward and pay attention. He did so and glanced back at Amanda. She was already taking notes, scribbling information down on her paper as if nothing had happened. He knew something had though. He could see the tears still on her face and hear her words bouncing back and forth in his brain. He whispered to himself.

    "Sorry I'm... I am... so alone..."

    As soon as school was over, he stood and nearly ran out of the room without a sideways glance at Amanda or any of the other students. He did not know what to make of all this, but he knew how to get his mind off of it. The skyscraper that was being built, near the darker parts of the city. That was the fake deal he had set up. He clutched the brass knuckles he always carried in his pocket and left in a hurry.
  9. The entire time the teacher spoke, Amanda could think of nothing but the visions she'd seen. How far into the future would his death be? She was worried for him. He already had such a long, tough life. He didn't deserve to be cut down in his prime. As soon as class was dismissed she noticed he ran out and she fumbled, gathering her things to follow him at a distance so he wouldn't see her. She'd never actually tried to intervene. She'd never even decided to follow someone that she'd seen the death of, but usually someone's death that she for-saw was a natural cause. This time it would undoubtedly be murder. She bit her lip as she followed him, her bookbag straped to her back, her steps careful and quiet. He was heading for the skeleton of the building she'd seen in the vision. Would it happen tonight? This was sooner than her visions were originally. Usually they were a month or so in advance, but never hours. She felt nervous, wondering how she'd stop him, then it struck her. She wouldn't. There's no way she could catch his attention for such an amount of time that the men at the top of the building would get tired and go home. She decided to just follow then, sticking to the shadows in wait. She didn't have to wait long.

    As the kid came closer and closer to the mark, Hans and Roger looked at each other then began pushing the huge piece of scaffolding toward the edge. Once it was close enough to balance, they waited for the moment the boy was on the mark, then they would push it off.
  10. Ryan slowed his pace to a walk, pulling the hood of his jacket up to cover his face, eyes shifting from side to side. He slipped on the knuckles, but keeping his hand in his pocket to conceal the weapon. Where was that cocaine-dealing bastard? He was supposed to already be here. Ryan could just feel a sort of uneasy tension in the air, almost like something was watching him, waiting, ready to leap out at any moment. He was nervous, more so than usual. He came to a stop and looked around, pulling his clenched fist out of his pocket and waiting. He did not like this. He did not like this one bit. His mind kept wandering. Back to what the purple haired girl had said. No, he needed to stay focused.

    Atop the roof, Hans whispered "Now!" They pushed. The beam fell. And Ryan, unaware, stood directly under its path.
  11. As the beam fell, Amanda moved. She dropped her back and began sprinting toward Ryan, grabbing his hand in her own and yanking him out of harm's way, adreneline pumping through her veins as the beam came crashing to the concrete with a horrendous roar, cracking the sidewalk and turning it to rubble under its weight. Amanda stared back as it happened just as she'd seen, almost in slow-motion as if she'd slown down a movie. Then, with narrowed eyes she looked up to the two figures on top of the structure disappearing into the night. They'd be back for Ryan. She was sure of it. She looked at the boy, then down at the brass knuckles on his hand and couldn't help but laugh.

    "What were you going to do, beat the building?"

    Then her smile faded as she remembered a vision. Drugs. She shuddered and dropped his hand as if she'd been burnt.
  12. He heard the stomping of sprinting feet in the ground behind him and turned, a little panicky. If someone was running at him, they probably wanted to attack him. But before he could even think of counter attacking, his world was moving. There was a flash of violet and he felt someone yank hard on his arm, pulling him along with them. "Hey! Wha-!" He was too taken by surprise to react beyond letting himself be dragged along. He was about to yank back, when the bone vibrating slam and crunch of the beam falling crushing the solid concrete where Ryan had been standing.

    He looked back at the beam, the sudden fear of realization filling his eyes, then back at the person whom he would have to think of as his savior. It was Amanda. The girl with the purple hair. "You're... that weird girl..." he said, still dumbfounded. By the time she yanked away from him, he had already caught up on everything that just transpired. He pulled the knuckles off of his hand hurriedly. "Oh this? It's uh... just... self defense. How... how did you know...? How did you see the...? Did you...?"

    There where so many questions he wanted to ask, but could not get them all out of his mouth at the same time. Eventually, he settled on one. "What the hell are you doing out here!?"
  13. Amanda watched as Ryan's face grew pale as a sheet, his eyes widening. She bit her lip, a sad look filling her eyes as he called her weird. Of course, that's what everyone called her. She should have been used to it by now, but when he said it, there was shock and even fear in his voice. Did he think she caused this? She stepped away from him and let her dulling eyes fall to the ground, tears threatening to fall. She spoke, her voice gentle and she felt her hair fall into her face.

    "I just knew. And I'm here... to save you. Please... Don't be scared of me... Please..."
  14. "You just... knew? How the fuck..." Ryan snapped back into reality, pushing the screaming questions into the back of his mind. He had to think about the here and now, and right now they were in a dangerous part of London. It was not very far into the evening yet, but already the skies were darkening and it was becoming harder and harder to see. Smog tended to do that. "Come on" he said bluntly, slipping on the knuckles and grabbing her sleeve with his free hand. "We gotta get out of here. Where do you live? I'll walk you there." He was rather pushy, nearly shoving her in front of him as her walked, half dragging her along at a brisk pace. It was well intentioned roughness, brought on by panic and a sudden desire to keep her and himself safe. Questions could come later. Safety came first.
  15. Amanda couldn't stand the look on Ryan's face, nor the tone in his voice. She felt herself shrink away, stepping back from him, ready to run. She felt bad that he was angry at her, but she would never regret saving him. She looked up into the ever-darknening grey sky and bit her lip. He should be getting home soon. As if he'd read her mind, which was quite impossible, Ryan suddenly grabbed her sleeve, both dragging and shoving her with force. She gasped and pulled away, looking at him with anger and shock, cradling her arm.

    "Don't. Touch me. I can walk on my own."

    She followed him and sighed gently, looking around into the darkness to make sure nothing bad was lurking. She thought for a moment when it had dawned on her what he'd said and she stopped in her tracks.

    "Uh, w-well, m-my... no one's home. Th-they're on vacation... In... Af...ric...a...."

    She'd been caught off guard, so her lie was rather see through.
  16. He let go, shocked at her sudden angry outburst. If nothing else, she had a temper. Ryan was quickly learning about that aspect of the purple haired girl. He couldn't help but let his tone turn sour. "Fine. Then walk. Faster!" He really should not have been snapping at her. She did save his life after all, but he could not help it. He would never admit fear, but he always got cranky when he was afraid. Although... he could not help but inwardly grin at her sheer spunk.

    And then she answered his question.

    Bullshit. he thought to himself. That was the single most bald-faced lie he had ever heard, but he decided to at least half play along. "So... what? You can still get in your own house, right? Or do you not actually have a place?" His voice was a low whisper, a testament to the silence in their immediate area and the nervous tension in the air. He tried to keep the last sentence from being accusatory, but he had never been very good at controlling his tone of voice. He kept picked up his pace. Even if he did not know where he as going, anywhere was better than this part of the city.
  17. She gasped a bit as he reacted to her anger with his own and snapped at her, but she couldn't help but smile, covering her mouth with a hand to hide the huge grin she had. Why was she smiling? It was the least appropriate response for the events that had just taken place, but she still couldn't stop. She turned away, giggling silently, eyes squeezing shut for a moment until she regained composure and turned back to him, sticking her tongue out at him. She knew he had seen right through her lie, but he was at least trying to play along. She smiled a bit and took his hand after making sure her glove was on securely, beginning to run to get out of the dark part of the city. She decided to let him stay the night with her. The apartment was big enough for two people and she knew it would be better than what was waiting for him at home, so she let her guard down a bit and let him in. She led him to the run-down building and opened the door, slipping inside and climbing the broken-down concrete stairs two by two.
  18. Ryan was, once again, taken by surprise when she stuck out her tongue and even grinned at him. Before he knew it, he was being pulled along by the hand, running to keep up with Amanda. They ran through the streets and he wordlessly followed her, up the stairs and to the house and everything until they finally stopped. When he caught his breath, he decided to address the elephant in the room. "Why did... you bring me... *huff* inside?"

    He looked around. All she had needed to do was led him here and send him on his merry way, not drag him inside. Speaking of which, she had just grabbed his hand and dragged him along. Awfully strange for someone who had just yelled at him for touching her. "So I guess this is your place then" he said rather awkwardly. He began to sidle towards the stairs again, suddenly inexplicably nervous. "I'll just... go then... I guess."
  19. She bit her lip as he asked her why she'd brought him inside. What did she tell him, 'oh well I thought staying here with a complete stranger would be better than staying at home with your abusive dad so, yeah.'? Yeah right. She thought of an answer, but by the time she was about to voice it, he was heading for the stairs. She tried to think of something to say to make him say, something quick, but nothing would come. She even thought of telling him the truth, but that made her roll her eyes. And just what would he say to that? He would laugh, call her crazy, and run away. That's what. She bounced forward, stopping in front of him.

    "I'm scared to be alone! You protected me from those men... but I'm scared they'll find me again... So please... stay?"

    Yeah, that's it, make it about yourself and make him feel masculine. That would work. Hopefully. She waited for an answer, her eyes intentionally wide and sparkling as she looked up at him innocently.
  20. He stopped suddenly, his progress hindered by the girl. Really? He had protected her from some guys? Whatever happened to her saving him? His mind worked like a machine, cogs and wheels turning fast, trying to figure this girl out. Eventually he just decided to stop thinking and agree. He would be up all night if he kept trying to figure her out. Besides, he had been away for a few days at a time before, his dad didn't care. "Fine! But I'll..." a blush rose to his cheeks as he thought about his options. He jerked a thumb towards the small couch. "I'll take the settee."

    He turned to walk to the couch and then stopped. He decided that if she really did need comforting, then her should at least try to give some. He turned again and put a hand on the top of her head. He glanced at the fingerless glove on his hand, he could feel her hair on his fingertips, but he could not feel her skin. "Don't worry. If you get scared just... come and get me, ok?"

    Wow he thought. That was weak. I really can't talk to people.