Ryan Farrow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mediumatlarge) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fifthcurriculum2014-09-05 09:27 pm
mediumatlarge) wrote in fifthcurriculum2014-09-05 09:27 pm
INTRO LOG
[[Exactly what it says on the tin! This is just an initial log to sort of get things started and is largely freeform, open to (but not limited to):
-Meetings before classes start
-First day business
-Dormshenanigans meetings
-First classes in progress
-or whatever the heck else you want to do for beginning-of-term things!
There's a CR meme up now for some initial planning if you like, or feel free to just hop in here.]]
-Meetings before classes start
-First day business
-Dorm
-First classes in progress
-or whatever the heck else you want to do for beginning-of-term things!
There's a CR meme up now for some initial planning if you like, or feel free to just hop in here.]]
John Allerdyce || Grounds
It's the last day before classes start up again, so why not, right?
In actuality, he's escaping the last-minute arrivals, particularly the ones with parents dropping them off. Last year he'd made the mistake of watching, and all of the lies and doubletalk and heavily conditional love had made him so sick that he'd fired off a massive flare into the sky and ended up on heavy lockdown for the first two weeks of the year. Meals, classes, dorm room, nothing else.
He's not repeating that.
So instead, he's pretending none of it exists. There's just the grass, the sun, the trickling sound of water behind him - like he's back in Central Park, but with a bed to sleep in at the end of the night. Best of both worlds, if only for a few false minutes.]
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The grounds are a good place to get away, what with most hanging around their dorms and meeting new roommates or just new arrivals, but the sight of someone spread out in the grass is definitely a little unexpected. Apparently he's not the only one who's got the same idea.
Ryan tries to give him his space, perching on the edge of the fountain rather than getting closer, but as used as he's been getting to hearing nothing but background noise... it still puts him on edge at times. Besides, he knows he's seen the guy around, he's got to be used to the weird shit that goes on here by now, so after a brief period of silence he finally reaches out with a tentative thought:
...hey, still awake over there?]
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It unsettles him, mostly, because he never knows who can broadcast and who can snoop. and that comes out as irritation.]
Keep to your own head, man. [Without even looking, just closing his eyes again and going back to his rest.]
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it's strange and weird. and why the hell would she actually run over here just to hold a book over his head?
it won't be known until she steps back and drops it in the grass, making a disgusted face because the book is now covered in bird poop. yes. she ran over here simply to prevent john from taking bird crap to the face while he laid there in the grass. she was almost sure she wouldn't make it in time but she did.
and sadly didn't think to bring anything else to prevent it so now it's on the book. poor book. ]
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screw your grounds this is detention
These kids just don't learn, do they.
No, no they don't.
Petre leans back on his chair, drums fingers on the desk. He isn't necessarily upset by any of this. The only thing he has to regret is being caught, but there's something to be said about the fact that John's stuck in here with him. They just can't be apart or together, can they.]
Told you not to touch my things.
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idek when. THEIR ROOM. late at night.
He can barely walk a straight line to his bed, and when he falls down he falls heavily on his back, arms spread across the mattress. He sighs happily, eyes closed, licking his lips because he can still taste the alcohol.
Petre is very drunk.]
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my phone at the tag i want to cry
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Ryan Farrow | multiple places
Classes aren't so avoidable, though, and neither is eating-- it's much easier to spot him around mealtimes, with the way his height and mop of messy hair tend to make him stick out like a sore thumb. He's usually by himself then, too, but he's not ignoring everyone else so much as just people-watching, a bit. Picking up on stray surface thoughts between snippets of conversation and trying to figure out where they came from, mostly. Practice is practice, and he needs all the help he can get.
After it's all over for the day and most of them are in bed, Ryan ends up on one of the common areas' couches instead to try and get a little quiet. Enough of them are nervous about classes, about being new here, about being here at all, and after lying awake for a while with multiple students' thoughts running through his mind he'd just given up on sleeping in his dorm. It's worse when he's anxious too, harder to control and to avoid listening to all of them.
Anyone else out of their room when they shouldn't be will find a gangly teenager stretched out across the sofa cushions, leafing idly through a novel in a way that makes it all too clear he's not actually paying much attention to it.]
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idk why i'm using all smalltext let me fix that
It happens. /o/
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Not a friend. She has to be a teacher above all else. But these kids need support as well, and she can offer that in her capacity as faculty member.
She's crossing the grounds for a quick breather when she spots one of those more distant students reading a book. He doesn't look lonely or lost, exactly, but his very solitude draws her over; it's the book that makes her speak up. The Two Towers.]
I said "No!" out loud when I first finished that book. My parents had fallen asleep during a TV movie, it nearly scared the life out of them.
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Not that he cares.
He changes into sleep clothes and stashes the new switchblade he was out getting just now, that he's sure the administration will take issue with eventually. (They told him no weapons when they picked him up.) But after watching the other students interact for a few days... he's worried about what might happen if he gets really angry, or into a fight. Sometimes he can't control himself in a fight, the instinct to kill it so strong, and it's better to reach for a knife than a life thread. No one stopped him when he left campus or came back, so Kieran figures they either don't know or will allow him the safety blanket for awhile. Just having it makes him feel more stable, makes the complete bizarreness of the Institute feel a little less foreign.
Kieran braids his hair back messily and slips out of his room, heading first for the bathroom to brush his teeth for bed and then for the common room to get a bottle of water. He can hear other students in their rooms, mostly muffled laughter and hushed whispers, like it's a giant sleepover. Dumbass kids, most of them. Moving near-silently on bare feet he turns the corner in the hallway and--
--there's someone in the common room. The area has no doors on either side, just large open archways that lead to either wing of the second floor. Kieran hears a rustling from inside, and there's an extra light on, but it isn't until he's stepping out of the shadows of the hall that he spots the teen on the couch.
'Huh. Wonder if you're my roommate,' he thinks idly, stopping in the archway. ]
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but now she's jerked awake and is back to reading, only giving him a little glance around the side of the book to make sure he wasn't someone who would rat her out. he's up too so he probably won't. they're here because they don't want to be disturbed, she figures. she can be quiet.
if he's catching any thoughts he might pick up the book itself being echoed in her head. (dream interpretation. this means this... this could mean this...) or odd and utterly random little predictions that are far off of anything else that pop up in intervals. they hardly make sense. all her thoughts following them are debating if they're important or not.
tomorrow's lunch is spaghetti. a red-headed girl is going to stain her shirt. there will be a cat. the teacher in classroom five is going to be 10 minutes late. pink nailpolish. someone in the fountain. john burning the couch. the color yellow. tea getting cold. telepath in the room. pizza. ]
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(Am I supposed to tell him to go to bed? Is he even going to care? What am I even doing, anyway? I'm no teacher, even if they tell me I am.)
Ryan's room | one week later
But here he is, knocking on Ryan's door. Sending out - he doesn't know what, just a sense of who it is. At least he hopes it'll work, and not be a frenzied mess of confusion and near-panic.]
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Yosuke Otoha | Multiple places
[A little later he's walking the grounds, still trying to get familiar with them. One of his bandages has fallen off and is fluttering out from his trenchcoat sleeve. At least he's not bleeding anymore, but it's probably not the safest thing for an injury.]
[Once things have settled down, he roams the halls, checking to make sure people are where they're supposed to be. Honestly he's not sure where he's supposed to be, since in theory he's a teacher but he doesn't really have classes scheduled. He does end up in the staff areas and stares at a bulletin board with colorful stickers. Is... is this the sort of thing he's going to have to get as a teacher? He's not going to use yellow smiley face stickers, thanks.]
[A bit later he's in the cafeteria, eating oatmeal. It's a breakfast food but he'll eat it if he wants to. And he can, because he's on his own now. Sort of. He's had to pull his sleeves up a bit though, so the wrapping on his arm is visible, along with the patches of too-red skin peeking out from under it.]
[Finally at night, he's back in the staff quarters, staring at the ceiling in their lounge. Sleep? He's not sure how to do that anymore. He doesn't really care, but he's just... bored. He's not allowed to kill anyone, so what is he supposed to do?]
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She knows it. Deep, deep down. She just has to find that knowledge again under all of the nerves about her actual classes.
It startles her a bit when she comes into the staff lounge and finds someone there. Honestly, she'd thought that all of the staff would be asleep by now.]
Yosuke, right? [They've had two meetings, one on a staff basis and one as X-Men, so she's got almost everyone's names down. This one she trips over just a bit, though, making it sound embarrassingly American.] I'm sorry. i didn't know anyone was here.
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WHOOPS MISSED A WHOLE PART OF YOUR TAG HAHA orz
IT HAPPENS
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Dulcie Turner || Grounds/Kitchen
Not a bad day. She thinks she handled herself well in her classes, she met a number of students, and she's starting to feel like maybe she can do this. But it's a far cry from taking classes and having the release of sports practice to burn off any residual stress. In college, she was being led - here, she's leading. And she still doesn't know if she's prepared.
But she can still burn off that stress, so she can either be found jogging the grounds in an X-Men tracksuit, or in the kitchen drinking water and picking listlessly at a salad afterwards. She knows she needs her strength, she's an athlete, but nerves always attack her appetite first.]
Grounds
He was in her class earlier and didn't seem like good student material, spending most of his time slouched in his seat drawing patterns on himself and gazing out the window. Standing and up close he's ridiculously tall, about six and a half feet, and too thin. His shoes, socks, and overshirt are in a pile at the side of the building and he's barefoot in the grass, eyes closed as he slowly moves through a series of forms.
It's reminiscent of tai chi, if Dulcie has ever seen folks doing that in the park, except his poses are different. He peeks an eye open at the sound of footsteps approaching, then closes it again and continues the flowing movements. ]
Turner.
[ ...is that a greeting? It's an acknowledgement of her presence, anyway. ]
Re: Grounds
Re: Grounds
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petre dodrescu | wherever you want
He certainly doesn't make it any easier.
Whatever you're doing, Petre is most likely watching you. Whether you notice him or not, he'll lift a finger and tip his chin, calling you out with a mild remark.]
I saw that.
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All he's doing is keeping a controlled fire on the common room couch beside him, not burning anything but itself. He likes to practice this way when no one's around (and he's cutting class, so no one's around), since he scoffs at control when he's in actual training - power is more important than control, he'll say, more and more the harder they push control at him - but knows that he will need it someday. Besides, it's fun to show off when he can make fire hover in midair, craft it into interesting shapes instead of just blasting people with full force.
And speaking of blasting people with full force, here's one of the few who won't even feel it. He's infuriating in every way a person can be.]
Fuck off, Petre. [Dry and bored, gathering the flame back into his hand and snuffing it out with a curl of his fingers.]
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[That initial thought's all panicky reflex as Ryan quickly glances around; he might be pretty sure he has valid reasons for being out of his room after hours (look, it's loud around all those people) but that doesn't mean he isn't on edge about it. He's a bit twitchy by nature, honestly, and he absolutely looks it with that deer-in-the-headlights expression. At least he calms slightly when his eyes settle on Petre (he is a student, right, he thinks so) and he lets out a quiet, relieved breath.]
Jeez, scared the hell out of me.
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but oh god. she's in trouble. she's not going to have it and going to get detention and it's going to be dreadful because she can't actually explain this one. she jumps and spins around to face him, hiding the now off-the-door knob behind her back ]
I- [ ....she closes her mouth, seeing who it is. oh goodness gracious. ] Hi. [ you scared the crap out of her ]
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[So?]
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Two days later in their new room #YOLO
Apparently someone has connected the dots he hasn't and realized the prank war going on, and they're settling it in the classic parent way - lock the two kids in a room together until they can leave on reasonably good terms.
He doesn't know this yet, though. He's just got the same ratty suitcase and backpack that he came with two years ago, now loaded with better and cleaner things, and he's dragging the former down the hallway until he finds his new room. He's still in the corridor with double rooms, so maybe they've found a nice, responsible roommate to try and straighten him out. Ha, maybe, it's Ryan.
He opens the door, and his suitcase hits the floor hard.
It's not Ryan.]
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