Writing Club (IC)


Chewing on a cigarette with thought as Ayase spoke. The artist had a smile matching the old-style reporter. "I zee..." She chuckled slightly, taking a bite off the end of her snack. "The answer is no." The girl declared, her tone failing to hide some inner glee. "To not know the magnifique of Réell Ement is unfor-tunaaate. Like your adventure with 'real' journalism be-ing so short lived. Stuck in that...writing club, now. It brings me to tears. Ah, but do not feel~ too downhearted, madame. The Writing club will not be long in this world." She grinned. "Haven't you read?"

Ement produced an pamphlet from her scarf. The familarity of it made the two of them key onto it being the same pamphlet that Jing had previously torn up. Showing them the front of it, it read:

A PREVIEW FOR THE FIRST PIECE OF THE NEW 'CLUB REVIEW' SERIES: FIRST UP, A SURE LOCK FOR ELIMINATION? THE WRITING CLUB HAS LITTLE TO HOPE FOR. COMING SOON - By Esaya Slews. Head of Journalism Club.

"To something you said before. Mistakes are never- Ah thank you Pierre- happy. Only from wiping them away from existence can we move on to true creation! True art to be se- Fils de pute this is paint thinner again! Pierre why do I pay zou! You insigificent creature!"

Wiping her lips, Ement was quick to smile again. "But, ah, I am kind. Perhaps for some infomation about your new club. I can put some word in that your stay at this academy does not end with the necessary culling of waste?

@Karyra @RedArmyShogun


Seira

Occult Room

Hantu frown deepend with Reece's words. "Bah, not with that pathethic piece of scrap you gave me I haven't." Without warning, Hantu grabbed Reece's wrist. Bringing it up to her face so she could see his palm. Scanning it over with her eyes. She let it go with an irritated sigh. "Great, not even an event of great misfortune coming up in the next week!" Flailing her hands in the air, The Occultist swore in some other language.

Reece shuddered slightly as the air around him seemed to drop a few degrees. Hantu grimaced once again, "Oh would you leave him alone!" She ordered, looking near Reece but not exactly at him. "He's just somebody I know Mother, gods. Don't make me attempt that excorism ritual again!" Yes, He couldn't shake the feeling he was being judged by etheral beings.

Seira coughed pointedly. "Excuse me, but who are you talking to?"
Hantu gave her a quizzing look. "Duh, my Mother."
Looking at the complete absence of humans near Reece, Seira nodded. "I,...er...see."

Searching through some ornate cupboards with the grace of an dyspraxic hippo, Hantu piped up. "What do you even mean your 'here for the bookclub'. We have books too! Great books full of interesting topics. You just have to know which ones will leave you an insane withering husk. But that's easy, those ones are a deep dark shade of purple while the safe ones are a dark shade of purple-"

"So you two know eachother, then?" The jumper containing a girl interrupted, looking between the two others in the curtained room. It was said with the same type of morbid curiousity one has when asking about 'how you got into that hobby that only middle aged german men do' or 'So how did that lightbulb end up in there?'

"I TOLD YOU MOT- Oh, wait. An breathing human asking questions, Yes...Reece, enlighten her. Your knife existence is so insignificent and accidental that I'm finding it hard to locate."
@Luma
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Damian James
Art Club Clubroom

How does one respond to... well literally any of what was happening in this clubroom. From the paint thinner -wasn't that literally poison why would they mix up such an important chemical with water?????- to the fact that they were all so much better off than the Writing Club that they were able to hold so many students that they could start their own school.

But also... baguettes? Really?

Ayase was on top of everything, quickly saying why they were there and everything. He just nodded along to the conversation.

"I have to disagree about being selfish with art. I think that you've all spent so long look for perfection to yourselves..." Damian shook his head. "Well, it's the first rule of writing anything. Audience. You're all pretty wrapped up looking for mistakes that your audience might see as endearing. It doesn't even seem like you guys try to thumbnail out pieces first either, so you might be feeling that crunch anyway. Besides, none of this is cheap, so I hope that you guys are making it worth it to the school."

As if startled by his own boldness, Damian made a small squeaking sound and retreated back a little.

"I-I mean of course you do. Hahah... ha... ha..."

@RedArmyShogun @Rithas
 
Ayase Matsuhima
Keeping her smile up, Ayase listens to the Frenchmen, becoming more and more irritated by the moment. Her smile stays fixed, but the psychotic look from before in reference to the news club, had reemerged onto her eyes. Staring wildly with a smile that seemed all to fixed.

"Ah, I guess being French you would know a thing or two about surrender and defeat, the white of this Room suits your cultural temperament for the last Seventy Years."

Glaring around as her fingers fiddle with the shutter and buttons on her Camera, there was no obvious sign of a flash at least as she continues her oddly pleasant sounding lashing, whatever had happened to knowing what her customers wanted was now out the window.. Or at least partially, she had simply switched customer bases

"My friend here raised an interesting point, between the smoking and space and your apparent alcoholism, just how many school rules are you violating, why my own little side paper would have a wonderful scandal wouldn't it?

Local Art Club, a place of Liberal expression or Capitalistic Exploitation? Snotty French Girl breaks rules and keeps her clubmates as factory mules and servants, Réell Ement, expulsion imminent? Living off of Family money or honest work?

That little slogan about colonialism is also a nice zinger consider'n your National History, maybe I can find some Vietnamese or North Africans to drop an opinion on that.."

Meeting Réell's smile eye to eye, Ayase seemed to have went a full 180, switching from flattery to black mail.

"Yah can ally with Slews if yah want, but always 'member this. His Father has bosses too. An'speak'n of waste, it would be a shame if your suppliers had dirt on em too. Just think how soon the starve'n artist might have to ask us poor souls in the writing club for help, such a shame we artistic types can't be friends, ehh? And here I could even have recommended you where to get some Wine, ah well, enjoy yer paint thinner, I got some material to write, I mean if I'm going out, might as well take as many others down with me ehh, poetic beauty to that, huh?"

Chuckling with that it was starting to become apparent that Ayase's departure from the News Club may have had something to do with nasty outbursts like this, she would be more suited to a livelihood with the State Police or Mafia than as a journalist, and also the Journalism Club seemed to be one of her buttons. Either way, the ball was now back in Emen'ts court, barring her mail counterpart could soothe both irritated parties.

@Karyra @Rithas
 
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Beatrix Lance
Rap Club Clubroom
Beatrix bristled at the little insulting rap from Lucy. She especially took issue with being called a wannabe cow, even if it wasn't clear which of the three was actually being called what. Wordlessly stepping forward and putting her best skate forward, Beatrix picked up the dropped mic and brought it up to her mouth. She wasn't much of a rapper or a singer, but some of her favorite rock songs included rap at some point or another.

"Standin' up there thinkin' you're so hot, you're just a superficial girl who cares a lot," rapped Beatrix. "Bashin' girls 'round the halls, what would you expect with a conscience so small?!" Beatrix wasn't one to be satisfied just dropping a mic. Nope, first she dropped it to the floor, then followed up by kicking it into the wall of the stage, much to the amazement of the Rap Club members surrounding them. Half the room fell silent, half gasped in shock, and the rest started to giggle at what was apparently a massive call-out. Beatrix didn't care one way or the other. She just wasn't happy having her body insulted.

mentions
@Rithas
 
Mirai
RAP CLUB ROOM, OR, ALTERNATIVELY, THE FUTURE 2019 COACHELLA STAGE

Things were beginning to get ridiculous. Which is how Mirai liked things, of course, but geez, look at the size of this place. There were spotlights, soundproof walls in imposing gun-metal gray. There was some wonderful graffiti art and vulgar graffiti art. There was a huge stage; if not Coachella huge then Pitchfork Music Festival huge. High-quality wireless microphones, subwoofers to crumble kidney stones, enough first-hand smoke machines to give you second-hand smoke. They had it all.

Mirai had a difficult time trying to grasp this. What? Were those 'bands' and 'fat racks' and 'dead presidents' and 'benjamins' and all that 'fettucine' and 'cheddar' more than just empty Gram flexing? How many records did they put out? Mixtapes? WorldStarHipHop singles? Mumble rap or conscious hip-hop? Were those epithets or legitimate genre boundaries? Did they have an answer? Did anybody?

Anyhow, she could only hope that this was an outlier in the school; because if not, then the Writing Club was even further behind than she thought. From the looks of her two new friends, full of dreadful agog, she could tell they were having similar thoughts.

As they walked in, what was probably the leader of the club confronted them, grinning as she spit some disses at them. They were...mediocre, Mirai thought. See, she was only really interested in more recent hip-hop, especially the recent trap explosion. The earlier strands of hip-hop struck her as sinewy, ungraceful, and that was obviously where this girl was pulling from, more boom-bap than trap. Fuck NWA. She wants Blueface, she wants Lil Pump, she wants...uhh...what other hip-hop artists does she like? ...Well fuck it, you don't need to be some sort of hip-hop historian to know there's stuff you prefer and stuff you do not prefer and nothing in between 'cept a no-man's land. She almost picked up the mic and started spitting some bars of her own, but Beatrix beat her to it, swiping the mic off the floor and sending caustic words barreling into their ears through the speakers.

Mirai actually thought it wasn't bad. Still sounded like earlier rap, but at least the insults were good. And then when she was done she kicked the mic, sending it flying all the way to the...well halfway to the wall, anyways. It rolled uneventfully the rest of the way, bumping the wall with a small 'thump' off the loudspeakers. Unfortunately it seemed to Mirai like the people around them were not much impressed. Some people gasped. There was some assorted giggling. Many did nothing, just peering at the tall girl or looking at their shoes.

The resulting rubble of silence was too much for Mirai. Tentatively she walked over to the dropped microphone, inert against the wall a whole seven meters away. She picked it up and walked all the way back, standing once again in her prescribed spot. And then she just stood there, whistling, for a whole minute.

Eventually she cleared her throat. The whole room sat on the edge of their sagging britches, waiting to see what this small girl was gonna spit. Or at least that's how it felt to Mirai, standing there. She wasn't the nervy type, but the atmosphere was crushingly awkward.

"Yo, yo! Yuh!" she began. "The pen is mightier than the...Glock! You want to fight the writing club, you finna be shocked! Yuh! Yuh! Whoo! Skkkkkkrrrrt! Pow! Pow pow! Young solider! Ay! Ay! Pop that booty like a toaster! I'm done." She handed the microphone back to Beatrix with a confident smile.

@Wolfsbane706 @Yuuki_Tatsunohi
 
Jemima Foster
Rap Club Room
​
The Rap Club room was massive. And generously funded. Microphones, various décor, even the walls were specially paneled to be sound proof. So, the school can afford to give the Rap Club subwoofers, but can't spare even a decently maintained classroom for the Writing Club? As the three of them traveled through the soundproof hall, Jemima likened it to walking towards some underground concert. She became even more convinced this was a concert instead of an after-school club when they entered a stage room coupled with spotlights and smoke machines. Lots of smoke machines.

Jemima coughed, waving the smoke away from her face just as a girl in a hoodie crouched down to look at them from the stage. Spotlights shined on all three of them and Lucy listed off three nicknames. While it wasn't explicitly stated which of the nicknames were for who, 'reject' seemed to be the harshest for Jemima.

Beatrix took the mic, saying her piece; Jemima vaguely recalled those words from a rock song. Then Beatrix literally dropped the mic and kicked it to the back of the stage, causing an earsplitting screech. Mirai was next, telling Lucy they weren't going to be taken down so easily then offering the mic back to Beatrix with a smile. Jemima looked between the two girls, then at Lucy then back again. Pursing her lips, she plucked the microphone from Mirai's hand and spun around to face the Rap Club head.

"First Imma say, my impression of you is bad. You walk in here with your pearls, yet still you look drab. Then you come in my face and call us names. Girl, don't be vague; I'm not in the mood for your games. You don't even know us yet the moment we showed up, you hold your nose damn high. Fine, you can rhyme, whoop-de-doo. But if that's all you got, then 'reject', 'outcast', and 'wannabe cow' actually apply to you."

Jemima shoved the mic back into Beatrix's hands, crossing her arms. All they were doing is trying to find ideas for a slogan, but some people want to be rude today.

"Anything else you guys have to say?" she asked her two companions.

Interactions: Lucy Smith @Rithas, Beatrix @Wolfsbane706, Mirai @twinkletide
Mentions: None
 
"Hohoho, simple facts brings such madness. While these wild accussations amuse me, I think it would best to control where your tongue lies. Or else we'll find out when something with zero credibility breaks the bedrock of dignity." Raising her thumb infront of her, Reell smiled. "Shame, almost art."

"And as for zou." Her ironsight turning to Damian, the boy sagged slightly, her look made him hope she had just straight ignored him. "Look around you." Damian felt obliged to at least spin around once to give the appearance of going with her words. For a place where great nature pieces were being created. The actual surroundings was relatively lifeless. His eyes getting use to diverse colour palette of white and white. He could pickout large white cubes that one could assume was what this place used for chairs. They couldn't be comfortable at all. And seeing as all the artists were choosing to stand only solidified that guess.

"Le Palace. Gone all diz-tractions. A perfect void for core thoughts of the mind. Upon this blank slate comes works of art none have seen before." Still holding the glass of paint thinner. She stirred it with thought, "The art world trembles from our impact. This academy would be fools to ever even look upon us with such ideas." Staring into her 'drink', Ement puckered her lips. "Ah, you leave? But wait! I forget there is a piece of art that we owe you. It was commissoned by your tragic club back in a time when it wasn't a laughing stock. It never got picked up, and is quite an eyesore to look at. Give to your bastard of club head, would you?

@RedArmyShogun @Karyra

As Beatrix kicked the mic into the wall. Many laughed or gasped. Though one student, who concidentally was the only one not in a hoodie. Wiped his forehead from frustration. "Waaaatch it! Do none of you understand how fragile these things are!?"

Lucy just watch with mild curiousity as the girls actually responded. Well atempted to, at least. The crowd got a lot of amusement out of Mirai's attempt. At this point, the so called 'audience' had created a circle around the trio. They could feel the hunger, the need for some put downs and sick flows.

They looked to the club head. She was tapping on her mic with thought, eyeing them up like a butcher with fresh produce.

"WHAT ELSE? WHAT ELSE? WHAT ELSE?" They cried over and over again. They were not sated with the offerings the writing club had given them.

"Split." A single word rung out from the stage, and with surley praticed conhesion, the crowd seperated so that the path between the Club Head and the girls was clear.


"This is how we communicate. We cooperate, conjugate, generate, subjugate, desolate. Asphyixate till we assassinate. Won't negotiate, don't compensate, you lightweight. Let's be straight, can't hesistate, get initmate to elimate our debutane.
Three stooges wanna clap along, midgame preseason. Give them bruises, not wrong, just showing our reason."

Big words from the new found larper. Club one's greatest fan, Club two's greatest Charlatan, at this point club three has a madman. Milking something you got trials for so much, the one thing you were good at. Ish! So Desperate, expect the next words from you to be "Let's go to make a wish!" Sharpest thing about you are those blades on your feet. Surprised people don't beg to use them when they hear you bleat. Let's not be kidding, kitten. Your career you hoped for is the greatest fiction piece to be written!

Hello there, ginger chicken. Words can be difficult, I know. But your sputtering so much this is a free throw! I'd hate to be the villain, but there's ideas that need to kick in. Quirky isn't a suitable replacement for personaility. You can say you're just surreal, but let's be real, no boy's taken you for a meal. God help the outcasts indeed, because you ain't got what it takes to suceed. Yes, I must alarm. you have no charm. Oh darn, I do warn, this burn so hot call it chilli con carn-ayeee." Lucy dropped down from the stage, doing a front flip in the process. Seemed a little excessive.

And for you, the one who imiates someone like parappa the rapper. Praise be." "Praise be." "You want concise, so I'll follow through. Don't need to know you. Don't want to. Can sense the tears from there. Can smell the hair from here. Can see your plan bare. Step one, Have no friends. Step Two, join a group so low even you fit in! Step three.....hmm. I don't know. Wait for pity? But darling, if you wanted profit your best bet is to just cut to the point and be a slapper. Much more your manner."

She was right in the faces of them now. Raising her arm, she let go of the mic. Before it could clatter to the ground, The previously complaining student dolphin dived just in time to save it. "Not todaaaaaay!~~~~"

The audience at this point had become a grey mass of jumping hoodies. Lucy stood there, grinning once more. "You have read the rules here, right?."
@Wolfsbane706 @Yuuki_Tatsunohi @twinkletide[/hr]
 
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Reece Howell
[Occult Club Room]

"Oh. Cool," Reece answered simply as Hantu gave his palm the 'a-okay.' "No news is good news, eh?"

Reece fought the urge to shiver. It wasn't even the cold as much as... the atmosphere maybe? He wasn't about to fall for that whole 'ghosts' charade. Nope. Strange chills aside, he tapped his toes, idly waiting for the jumper girl to answer the question he honestly was wondering himself. Instead, another painfully familiar question arose.

"Uhh... well, weeee... 're friends? I mean... the past is the past right? No point poking a dead pig or whatever, right?" Reece flashed an awkward grin and threw a thumbs up out as his forehead grew suspiciously shiny.

"Anyway, I dunno why we're here actually. Just said 'ask questions,' so ya know." He shrugged.

@Rithas
 
Ayase Matsuhima
As if to trigger something, the mention of madness made Ayase halt her smile briefly, replacing it with a more sinister looking smirk. "Yah know, how high'an mighty yer art is, yah must be under a lot of stress, breaking bedrock, I always heard that artists at their prime are prone to suicide, jumping from roofs, real tragic ain't it? Pride comes before the fall and your building has a long one." Either batshit insane or angered, Ayase remarks on the daily news in much the same way a mafia boss or secret police agent would when just as suddenly her forced smile returns.

"ahaha..ah. I'm sure you'll be alright though! Being so valuable and all." While still keeping her unnatural smile the reporter girl narrows her eyes at mention of the commissioned item, they had not been told of this, nor did she trust the Art Club head all that much.. Still her new boss didn't seem all that reliable, attentive, or even awake, so it was possible.

"I'm hope'n this all isn't part of some sort of poor taste in jokes, if it's not we can take it to em. Though that is interesting.." While she was curious what the club was like before it's placement in the poverty basement, she was not about to try getting answers out of this girl, truth be told the sooner they got out of there the better, though the male half of their visit may have questions or remarks of his own.

@Karyra @Rithas
 
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Beatrix Lance
Rap Club Clubroom (still)
Over the course of about five seconds, Beatrix tried to process the fountain of words that had come out of Lucy's mouth. Club 1, probably the Ice Skating Club, of which Beatrix was most definitely not a fan of. Crystal's attitude and possessiveness saw to that. Club 2, the Writing Club? Lucy was waxing too much philosophical for Beatrix's taste, and she was about to let her opinion be heard when another voice chimed in, crystal clear above the rest.

"Excuse me, Little L!" called Crystal Glacies from the entrance to the Rap Cliub. She, along with the two skaters she'd brought for "emotional' support walked through the crowd until they were shoulder to shoulder with the Writing Club members. "I'll thank you not to call my dearest Beatrix a charlatan." Crystal reached out to stroke Beatrix's chin, only for the Writing Club skater to shy away and try to put one of the Rap Club members between her and Crystal. "She's learning. She'll be a goddess-like skater one day. She just needs the proper teacher . . . ."

Beatrix sneakily put herself behind two more Rap Club members. "I thought I told you last week," she said to Crystal. "I'm not yours. I'm mine." It was safe to say she'd forgotten about Lucy and the insults. Ironically, that proved at least one of them right: Beatrix definitely wasn't the sharpest skate in the rink.
Fieldset:
interactions
@Rithas
 
Damian James
Art Club Clubroom

Having looked at the club room again, taking in all the details... Damian felt... sad. All these art pieces and these people were so intensely pressured to win that small comforts were forgone. The chairs were functional and there was no color in the art room.

Also... Ayase was just scary. All these mentions of awful things... Damian made a mental note to either make her into a villain or never make a character like her lest he have to deal with her wrath.

"Ah... yes. We'll take that. I'm sure that our club leader won't mind."

Still, this was strange. They were so confident in not feeling the crunch, but it seemed like they already had. Extreme measures like that had to take time to implement, right?

He walked towards a painting. Largely unfinished, it seemed a little... empty? He didn't know what to make of it. Some paints were nearby. Some impulse within him said to upend it to add some color to the room. So he settled for subtly 'bumping' into a nearby paintcan while looking at the painting.

A dash a green splattered across the floor.

"Oh! I'm sorry! I wasn't looking and-" Damian started to dab at the floor with low effort. "Gosh, I'm sorry about that. Now there's paint all over the floor."

@RedArmyShogun @Rithas
 
Jemima Foster
Rap Club Room​

Things got real the moment Lucy said, "Split", and the crowd cleared a path between the three girls and Lucy. Going in the order of who took the mic, it wasn't long before Lucy threw her insults at Jemima. She did her best to remain steady though she took a slight step back when Lucy was practically nose-to-nose with them.

Then there was a new face in the crowd, one with a clear voice that carried over the whoops and shouts. She sported a white jacket with the school logo on the back and the name 'Crystal Glacies' embroidered in front on the right side of the jacket. Crystal immediately came to the defense of Beatrix, though Beatrix's actions said she wasn't happy to see this girl at all. Jemima narrowed her eyes as Crystal referred to Beatrix as a goddess-in-training while reaching over to scratch her chin like one would towards a kitten.

Suddenly, Lucy's words towards Beatrix started to make sense.

Jemima watched as Beatrix backed away from Crystal, pushing Rap Club members between her and Crystal. Don't leave us like how S***** left T*****! It was a miracle she didn't slice through anybody's foot with her ice skates. Jemima then grabbed Mirai's wrist and started following after Beatrix.

"C'mon," she whispered to Mirai. "This is our chance to get out of here."

Interactions: Mirai @twinkletide
Mentions: Beatrix @Wolfsbane706, Crystal and Lucy @Rithas
 
Seira
OCCULT ROOM

Hantu's face turned to confusion as Reece sweated out an answer. "N-No point?" She mumbled to herself, as the air began to get frosty. "I see how it is...."

What little light there was quickly flickered out. "Oh yes..." There was the familar gleam of metal in the darkness. "You're ignorance will not be unpunished."

The groaning of old wood reverberated throughout the room. The flutterings of curtains and shaking of shells did not add much comfort.

"Father, stop it."

With a flash of light, Hantu was infront of Reece once more. Holding his knife, handle towards the boy. "To hear that your an advocate for the new style of ritual prepration is sad to hear! I mean, sure you technically get a wider area of phanto-plasm to catch spirits. But the connection is poorer, and I just think quality over qaunity, you know? I mean sure, buying pigs for sacrafice is rather harsh in this day and age and a good steel poker is rather dear, but- MOTHER WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN! Pst, speaking about being ghosted when their spirits...whatever that's supposed to mean." Reece had noticed the occulist had her eyes lit up (not that he had a chance not to notice, her face was disturbing close to his), it was certain to see that she was in her element.

"Anyway, you had questions. But don't have questions. You know to have questions but do not know why questions?" Hantu squinted, "Is this a riddle Reece?"

"We are the writing room. So I suppose it could be?" Seira replied, having found herself a corner to possibly defend herself during the whole charade. "And for that riddle you get a question. Is the Occult Club in a special alliance with any other club?" Seira questioned rather pointedly.

Hantu frowned. "No, why would we? We're dealing with otherwordly elements here, not school squabbles. Oh, now I get to ask a question, it's only fair!"

Seira seemed pensive for a moment, before shrugging her shoulders. "About Reece, yes."
"Really? Sweet! And you're find about that ree-"
"Reece is completely find with this."

"Alright....Reece, why join the writing club? I thought your dream was to be a baseball player. And I would know, I've watched them!"

@Luma
 
Crystal took a breath, her pale skin and diamond blue eyes expressed little, "Beatrix, your rejection of your fate only pushes it closer to reality." She stepped forward to follow Beatrix. But was quickly blocked by hoodies.

Letting her head fall to the side, Lucy huffed. "You're not supposed to be here, seriously it brings me misery. And I don't care for your obsession, begone Annie Wilkes!" Holding a thumbs down, Rap members began shuffling around. A swarm moved inbetween the group and Lucy. They turned to get out. But that was blocked as well. The girls found themselves once again huddled up in a small group stuck in this moshpit. Now they couldn't even tell which way was which. This stupid fog was ruining their sense of direction! And certaintly could not be good for their lungs.

"Geez." A tall figure near them suddenly spoke. "The Club Head's are certainly characters aren't they?" The male (they guessed) spoke again. Now that they got a glance at him, the three could swear he was wearing a mask. Though the smoke blocked out seeing the details of it. He rapped his knuckles against the side of his head. "FIrst I get lost and now I'm stuck here. What awful terrible unfortunate luck. It's a chance to get out of here and everything! I think someone needs to do something to break this crowd, but how?"

@Yuuki_Tatsunohi @Wolfsbane706 @twinkletide
 
Mirai
STILL IN THE RAP CLUB ROOM

Though the room filled with jeers after Mirai's freestyle, the combined attempts of her and Jemima and Beatrix conspired to fill her with an unaccountable confidence. They weren't bad, the lot of them, especially not for a bunch of folks put on the spot as they were. But her illusions were dispelled when, parting the crowd like an MC Moses, Lucy began to rap, a cold trap beat dropping in behind her like a block of ice. The ensuing verbal carnage lasted a good two-and-a-half minutes, more than enough for a song, and all three of them were left dumbfounded through the whole of it.

Mirai felt her face flush at her own verse. How dare she imply that she was using quirkiness to substitute for a lack of personality? This was her personality. And anyhow it wasn't her fault. She was not unreal; everyone was unreal. And anyhow she wasn't much pleased about being lectured about quirkiness and being eaten out by a girl running a club made up of people who, despite the pro forma boasts, had probably never looked at a boob/ab in their entire life. She, along with her companions, nearly said as much in reply to their individual verses, but - as seemed par for the course - were interrupted by a crisp, posh voice. Said crisp posh voice came from a nigh inhumanly pale girl, flanked on both sides by similarly complexioned girls. Mirai took one look and immediately knew where they were from. And, lo and behold, she was correct. As soon as she reached them she began speaking rather sleazily about how Beatrix needed only to have the proper teacher or something. The sharp and fanatic obsession in her eyes created such a contrast with her dainty looks that it made Mirai sweat. That, along with the smoke machines (which were still on!), created an almost ominous atmosphere, the stuff of surrealist horror films.

Nonplussed at the intrusion of her personal space, Beatrix hid behind a couple of rap club members, which seemed not at all a deterrent to this girl, who stepped forward. Jemima grabbed Mirai's hand, causing her to gasp in surprise and - it has to be said - embarassment. "C'mon, this is our chance to get out of here," she whispered. This seemed initially like a fair judgement, but Lucy promptly put an end to it by stepping between them and causing a huge crowd to coalesce all around, trapping them. A brick wall of convulsing hoods separated them from Beatrix, who was luckily separated by a similar wall from Crystal. "Well, chance is gone!" said Mirai over the tumult. This whole deal had been wonderfully chaotic, but even Mirai had her limits, and she was keen on getting out now as well. She wondered, however, how they'd get out of this one, because if there was an out it wasn't visible.

Their deus ex machina came in the form of a tall figure standing not far from them. He(?) cut a staunch and cemented figure, seeming barely affected by the surrounding coagulation of people, and seemed to be wearing a mask - a detail that would've warranted further observation, if there was any time for that. He muttered gnomically to himself, just loud enough for them to hear, about getting out of here and needing someone to break up the crowd.

Well that was one hell of a prospect. Breaking up a crowd of this size would require a lot more than a person. It would, in fact, require something quite inhuman, and heavy on two ends, and affixed with a large stick for ease of handling. She saw nothing of the sort. "Easier said than done, bub!" she shouted at him. Groaning, she looked all around. What to do, what to do...

She had a sudden burst of inspiration that involved her remembering a scene from some movie she watched. It was...a really bad idea, to say the least. Really, calling it a "burst of inspiration" is a stretch. But at this point she wasn't really seeing any better ideas. "Play along," she whispered to Jemima, and dropped to the floor, convulsing widly on her back.

Mirai: (shouting) Ah! I'm...I'm sick! It's the smoke! The smoke! (dramatic cough) I don't feel good...ack! Make way! Please carry me to a medical professional before I - (hacking) - pass out! Or worse! (Gestures weakly to JEMIMA, whispers) And get Beatrix. Somehow.

Enter @Yuuki_Tatsunohi , @Wolfsbane706 , and @Rithas .
 
Art Club Room​

"Zere are nou jokes, except perhaps that painting. From what I've heard, we didn't put our best personel on it." Giving a hearty chuckle to nobody to herself. Ement clicked her fingers, A nearby student suddenly began to walk towards the other side of the room. "It'll be here shortly."

Her gaze turned to Damian. Who was staring at a masterpiece in the making. She readied herself to instill some artistic knowledge on his ignorant mind, but before she could give him such a gift. He must have developed some type of motor nerve disease, because otherwise it looked like he went out of his way to bump over some paint that he had just awknowledge the existence of ten seconds ago.

"Gosh, I'm sorry about that. Now there's paint all over the floor."
"Yes....it seems there is."

A few heads turned at the commotion.

"GREEN!"
"MY MIND IS BROKEEEN"
"A Primary Colour!"
"GAH, IT'S RUINED."
"It's actually a secondary colour-"
"CUT IT OUT AND SELL IT"
"Who cares, it's just yellow!"
"THE COLOUR OF GREEN."
"It's basic educat- wait yellow?"
"THE COLOUR OF SICKNESS"
"Are you colour blind dave?"
"VERT!"
"God this would explain the pink s-"

Specs of paint had splattered on Ement's shoes that one would be right to guess were worth more then you. Instead of any immediate reaction, The Art Head simply gave a thin smile. "That's fine...Green would have ruined that painting anyway. If the student used that then...Bon tu sais."

Ement eyes flicked above Damian, just in time for a student to knock into the back of the student. Causing him to fall right into the large paint stain. "Oh dear! Pierre, zou clumsy fool. I pardon, I pardon, he wasn't looking." Ement said in a repent tone. Though quickly she pointed towards the painting that Pierre was holding, wrapped up cloth.

"Zere it is. Be thankful I zou not charge for the storage charge. Never say I am not a kind soul. fools" Producing another chocolate ciagreete from a steel case. Ement stained down at the paint-stained man. "Such a fashion statement."



@RedArmyShogun @Karyra
 
Ayase Matsuhima
This was all terribly, teribbly fascinating. The school was as terrible as she said, these people were proof of it and was one of the factors that led to her explussion from the Journalism Club. Honestly if the school kept the way it was going and if the powers that be were always like this, then it might be time to think of a career change, that and being kicked out wouldn't be such a bad thing. Watching the downwards spiral that resulted from Damian's accident, Ayase decides to back him up a little after the French Midget's assault and further absurdities.

"Eh, the hell Damian, be more careful, yah know this paint is so expensive, listen to those poor sods, yah know, I swear.." Walking over to check on him, Ayase lowers her camera with one hand as her smile remains, deftly slipping her left hand into a can of red paint. Before flinging her arms up to the side to yawn, purposely spraying small gobs of red paint across the room and onto Ement.

"Oh for Christ's sake, come on yah people need to learn ta secure your paint better, like yah seen that, I just walked here. But eh, Green and Red goes together well. Hell, maybe I should come back, join the club, just spray some paint all across these walls, cause if yah ain't enjoying what yah do, time ta do some'n else."

Grabbing the painting in her right hand as her camera dangles from a cord and getting a little token of revenge and leaving some parting words, Ayase leaves left hovering near some more open paint cans, as if in silent warning. "Ah well, I'm, so, very, very sorry, but heh, a little paint like that will do yah some good, our club room is crap, but it's got some character to it, I can't decide if this is a morgue or an asylum.." With that Ayase eyes Damian and then the door, before looking at Ement, making a point to wipe her hand off on the poor Butler on the way out while making sure more of the red would find it's way to the Art club leader, the smiling camera girl narrows her focus. "I'm sure it's fine if we leave now, right?"

Waiting to see what meltdown the class had this time, it would be fun to break in here later and paint the walls, but now was not the time and she wanted to get this package dropped off immediately, though she was sure they didn't make any friends here she had learned more than a few things about the club from these small reactions..

To think a place of learning would become a sweat shop, the Principle would have much to answer for one day..

@Karyra @Rithas
[
 
Reece Howell
[Occult Club Room]

Reece shivered a bit as the lights extingished, and again when Hantu spoke out of the black. He likened it to the feeling of being locked in a dark room with a poisonous viper: slithering around in the dark with no idea where it was going. Before he could even fully realize the metaphor, the crazy girl was right there in his face!

...talking about... things...?

"Yeah, well, ya know..." Reece stammered without the slightest clue how to hold a conversation on ritual sacrifices. Though in a way, Hantu's eyes did look kinda attractive all lit up like that...

"Wait, wha—" he stammered, suddenly hit with the big question. "Oh, right, yeah. Still love baseball of course, but me and the club leader had a kinda awkward moment right before she assigned teams for this year, so I got booted for the season. Was checkin' out some of the other clubs and the bo— ahem Writing Club looked pretty good, so I just kinda... slipped on in."

Reece glanced between Hantu where she assumed the book club girl was. "So yeah... it's rough, but I don't mind tryin' something new."

@Rithas
 
Jemima Foster
Rap Club Room
​
Jemima heard the voice of the guy right next to her, glancing up at the masked fellow as he spoke. Yes! Seriously, something to break this crowd because she didn't want to be part of this jeering mosh pit. Then she heard Mirai whisper in her ear to follow her lead before suddenly falling to the floor, too fast for Jemima to catch her.

"Umm . . . ummmm!" Jemima stuttered, arms frozen midway in front of her and looking between Mirai and Beatrix. Oh. Oh! This is like 'G** H***.' She kneeled next to Mirai, trying to look as scared for her friend as possible. "Aaaahhhh!! Help! Medic! We-we need to . . . to get to the nurse's office! Yeah! Nurse! Help!"

The tall guy raised a hand. "I can be of assistance. Follow me and I can get you where you need to go real quick."

"Greatly appreciated." Thank A******* T*** Jemima took Mirai's arm and threw it over her shoulder, pretending to struggle trying to lift her up for the act. "Oh my god, you're heavy," she strained. Sorry. Sorrysorrysorry!, she silently told Mirai. Hopefully, the girl wouldn't take what she said to heart. She looked right at Beatrix, nodding her head towards Mirai. "Beatrix! Help me here!"

Interactions: Mirai @twinkletide, Beatrix @Wolfsbane706, Maskie @Rithas
Mentions: N/A
 
Rap Club​

Mirai's idea was a brave one. Afterall, they were next to a mosh pit with poor visibility. One shift in movement and she could quickly become a jam pancake. Still her convulsing brought some attention from a few grey hoods.

"Err...is she okay?"
"Brooo, siiick dance mooooves."
"God, some people just want all the attention."

"Aaaahhhh!! Help! Medic! We-we need to . . . to get to the nurse's office! Yeah! Nurse! Help!"

"Oh."
"Maybe we shou-"

Their fluttering attention was quickly turned by the voice of Lucy on the otherside of the mob. "ICE ICE GO FUCK YOURSELF!" was all that they caught. Too much time was required to figure that one out, so they continued with their current mission. Now with the knowledge that a girl's life was worth less then some sick bars.

"Oh, someone has fallen gravely ill and yet their plight is ignored! Unforgiveable." Pulling at their hair, The stranger looked down at Mirai doing the worm. "Not the time to be scared. I must help fellow students!" Putting a hand to the center of his mask. The Stranger made some type of choked laugh.

"I can be of assistance. Follow me and I can get you where you need to go real quick."

Watching the two begin to lift Mirai. Maskie turned away from them. "Oh I don't want to be seen as rude to others..." As he mumbled nervously to himself, all the lights in the clubs shut off. Aside from one which was focusing on whatever the hell was going on the otherside, the rest of the crowd was left in pitch darkness. "Oh, that's handy." The trio could hear infront of them as the sound of people being shoved into eachother echoed around them. Sounded like The Stranger was having no trouble navigating in the darkness.

"This way students! You shall not die today! Folloooow my voooooooice."

It was time to travel the parted grey sea.


@Yuuki_Tatsunohi @twinkletide @Wolfsbane706
 
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