For years Ennui University has served as a prestigious establishment to train and monitor Gifted youth for their future careers. But sinister histories lurk behind the tailored training and education of Ennui's students, and outside forces, with their own radical agendas, seek to harness the fantastic powers of the Gifteds within. When all is said and done, who is worthy of your trust and will you being willing to lay down your future, your life, for their cause?
03.11.2014 -- Welcome, welcome, welcome! After working out all of the kinks, we are proud to announce that Ennui Uni is officially open! Please feel free to have a good look around and have a chitchat on the chatbox if you have any queries, we promise we don't bite! - teeth & kit
Post by sauren vaalha on Dec 16, 2014 13:27:42 GMT 9.5
Sauren didn’t know what she expected of Stomp. A clumsy flirtatious response? A flash of anger in her eyes (well, eye)? She certainly didn’t expect her to wheel around on the spot and just expect Sauren to come along. The fire starter looked out to the ocean once more, watched it rock and wave beneath her as if it were waving good-bye, and curled her lip in disgust. People actually wanted to spend their lives breathing seaweed air. Let those marine biologists look at sea rocks or whatever they did all day; she’d take solid land beneath her feet and air in her lungs.
Stomp’s step-clunk-step-clunk faltered when Sauren looked at her back. Or perhaps she’d imagined it. Either way, she gave one last rap of her knuckles against the sodden wooden railing and then flipped the bird over her shoulder as she started after her new companion. “Speed devil. Right,” Sauren said and shortened her stride so she wouldn’t bypass Stomp. Even though the girl was a head shorter and was one leg short of a full set, she lived up to her words.
“You ever heard of Nivan? It’s a drink made by the nomads of Meride.” Her lips quirked. “You’d like it.”
-tag-
@username
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-notes-
↺ "go fuck yourself, ocean." also this short ass post can also go fuck itself.
Post by Stomp Minn on Dec 20, 2014 3:02:13 GMT 9.5
THIS THING HURTS LIKE HELL
BUT WHAT DID YOU EXPECT?
At the other end of the dock, the one that was anchored into the frosty tide rocks by the least dubious of the rotting wooden planks, Stomp saw a group of a Ennui students pass. Five of them, healthy and happy and normal looking, at least. Another stab of something cold and emotional hit her sternum and rose into her throat. Something that almost felt like jealousy but had more hidden depths lurking beneath its ghastly green exterior.
Am I sad?
She thought and then laughed aloud, releasing the unpleasant bubble of /feeeelings/ into the cold salt-n-vinegar air.
I'm coming down too fast, dammit, getting weepy and withdrawl-ly by the second.
Behind her, Stomp heard the sounds of Sauren's slow pursuit and cocked her head slight to the left so that her one eye to could catch which ever side the girl decided to flank her on. Side-by-side, she almost laughed again, now that was weepy n withdrawl-ly enough for ten of her reckless lifetimes. But it didn't grate too roughly against Stomp's inner, feely kind of skin-- it was nice having someone to talk shit with-- even if the pseudo cyclops of a girl barely knew the firestarter.
“You ever heard of Nivan? It’s a drink made by the nomads of Meride.”
Stomp caught the twist of the darker girl's expression and felt herself match it. Bemused, is what she'd call it-- if she felt like calling it anything at all.
“You’d like it.”
"Barely known me for halfa day n you already know what I'ma like n dislike?" Stomp chuckled and then punched Sauren mid-arm, compromising her own balance for a half a second. When she'd regained her composure, she continued, "Man, we are just gonna make the best fascist trashin buds in the whole widest wide world."
A hiccup, another botched attempt to purge her guts of the fowl liquor and then Stomp laughed again.
' this rate I'll go hoarse from all this fucking cackling.
They'd reached the end of the dock and the sleepy town of Ennui was becoming clearer despite the subtle fog that had begun to roll in from the great beyonds of the ocean. It made her think she'd stepped into some half-budgeted MSE horror film. As her one foot-plus-crutch finally returned to solid ground, Stomp cleared her throat passionately, gathering a wad of phlegm in her mouth with a loud GHACK ing sound and then spat the humor onto the frozen earth.
"Ya miss me mother fucking earth?"
She grinned and scuffed the spit into the soil with her remaining foot.
‹WORDS› yeaye ‹TAG›sauren vaalha‹NOTES› like for fascist hating buds, reblog for mother fucking earth ‹MUSIC›HERE.
Post by sauren vaalha on Dec 29, 2014 5:12:32 GMT 9.5
The stench was lessening the more they walked and snow-covered greenery was slowly taking over the smell of rot and salt. Sauren’s nose twitched as she noticed the change and then her lips curled at the sight of more Ennui students at the other end of the dock. They were just passing through, too busy with their mindless chatter and happy ignorance to notice the odd pair walking along the wooden planks. Or perhaps they just didn’t care. She shoved her hands in her pockets and looked sideways at Stomp, lower lip jutting out as she wondered why she was still following her. Sauren didn’t have friends at the Academy. Sure, she went to some parties, got fucked and did some fucking, but come morning any ties she’d made the night before would be cut and she’s shoulder herself out into the fresh air to do some yoga.
“Nivan is a strong drink. Very easy to get drunk off of,” she commented and resisted the urge to sidestep Stomp’s sluggish punch.
She ignored Stomp’s exclamation about them being ‘the best fascist trashin buds’ namely because of aforementioned actions and somewhat because Sauren wasn’t sure if the shorter girl would feel the same way once all of the whiskey had worked its way through and out of her body. Though… “I have to admit, I wouldn’t mind having someone like you as a fascist trashin bud.” The sentimentally was lessened when Stomp butt in with a loud hacking sound. She spat the yellow-tinged spit on the ground where it did nothing but glisten on the hard earth.
“Lovely,” Sauren said and pursed her lips in disgust.
The frigid air glanced harmlessly off of Sauren’s skin, but her breath still chilled and curled with each exhale. The warm roll of the ocean had kept most of the frost away from the docks, but the earth was still hardened with cold and the grass still shivered under the weight of the winter air. It was Sauren’s favorite time of year. She got to watch people suffer and freeze while she got to walk around in jeans and her thin black sweatshirt. She removed one of her hands from her jacket pockets and unzipped the sweatshirt, revealing a faded red tee with a radioactive symbol stamped in the middle. “Here,” she said and shrugged off the jacket so she could toss it on Stomp.
“Besides freeze your drunken ass off on the docks, what else did you want to do with your day?”
Post by Stomp Minn on Jan 12, 2015 4:02:16 GMT 9.5
THIS THING HURTS LIKE HELL
BUT WHAT DID YOU EXPECT?
Rubbing her sealed eye with pointedness, Stomp glanced again at the dark skinned woman, trying to see where her amber gaze fell. It proved too mush for just her one eye and so, instead, contented herself with waiting for the gaggle of Ennui institution fodder to pass out of her peripheral. For a moment she remembered that she could easily be among them, equally as poised to be passed into the waiting arms of the OSR, and easily be convinced the wonderful luckiness of her situation-- How LUCKY to have escaped jail! How LUCKY to have a bed to sleep in! How LUCKY to be steeped in bullshit and fascists; still on the wrong side of fascist interest but still alive and cared for.
BULLSHIT. BULLSHIT. BULLSHIT, she brought the nub of her crutch down on the ground and found herself missing the hollow /thunk/ of the wood, I's never fuckin luck, ain't even luck dammit!
Forcing her exterior self to maintain her weasely grin, Stomp stretched her free arm, spreading her fingers and flexing them until they felt strained like an old rubber band, and then said,
"Ha. Leave it to Merideans to think of somethin to fuck ya up more than malt n dark liqs. Had a caretaker once from there and, lemme tell you, she never put down the vodka handle for more than a minute. Pro'ly--"
A volley of fowl shrieks cut her off and Stomp tipped her head back to see the gulls regrouping on a now upside-down dock.
"Fuckers," she muttered pretending to have missed Sauren's response to Stomp's prediction of their volatile comradery.
With a final swipe of her heel over the now half frozen phlegm, she hobbled on, not waiting to see if Sauren would continue to tail her. There was a restlessness building in her patience and the soft, blurring of the liquor was beginning to fade-- she needed a distraction and, while she did welcome Sauren's company, the firestarter no longer provided the right kind. She almost flinched as she felt the extra layer of clothing fall over her shuddering shoulders and felt a flare and twist in her stomach all in the same surprised breath.
“Besides freeze your drunken ass off on the docks, what else did you want to do with your day?”
What a welcome distraction. What a welcome development. And yet she...
"Nice shirt, ya make it or filch it?" Stomp rolled her neck, making it sound as if those were the only two ways one could acquire anything, "Aha ha. Both'd make good things to do today too, ta answer you. I mean, I try not to make plans 'fore I do anything-- too much to do n see n smash n piss about."
Another gull cry. Stomp bit her tongue to keep from commanding Sauren to dispatch it with fire again.
"'s for what we could do... don't think I'm too oppositioneded to trying some of that stronger than shit liq."
‹WORDS› yee ‹TAG›sauren vaalha‹NOTES› so much to do, so much to see ‹MUSIC›HERE.
Post by sauren vaalha on Jan 17, 2015 7:00:15 GMT 9.5
Stomp’s sharp inhale when Sauren dropped her sweatshirt on her made her fingers linger for a moment as if she would snatch it back. She would have left if Stomp made an ungrateful remark, but she recovered with a witty retort. Her mood seemed haywire and the presence between them had started sliding downhill fast. Maybe it was because Stomp was sobering up. It was probably because Stomp was sobering up. “I run a business in Ennui. Fucking bought it and it is my nicest one so don’t trash it,” she muttered.
“…don’t think I’m too oppositioneded to trying some of that stronger than shit liq.”
Sauren looked away, didn’t answer immediately because she was a selfish prick and only had half a bottle of Nivan left. The white-haired girl was certainly small enough to be a lightweight, but she was sobering up fast. Alcoholism could do that to a person. She tugged on the bandana around her wrist and used it to tie up her dark red hair instead. “I have some,” she said slowly. “But it is not going to be free.” She thought about it for a moment longer, lips quirking into a haughty smile. “Of course, I like you so I would be willing to take an IOU.”
Frosted grass crunched under her boots as they walked. She’d already turned their course to the general direction of the apartment complex on Ennui. Her room was a mess, but she had a feeling Stomp wouldn’t care. Not that Sauren cared anyway. Rarely did she bring anyone back with her to the apartment. Stomp was making her feel more edgy than usual and she was itching to burn something. Let loose. But she held it in for the sake of curiosity; that and she didn’t want to spend the rest of her day being lectured by Ennui officials on her destructive behavior. Maybe she could get some tai chi in later.
going to start writing sauren's sentences with a more clipped tone?? she's going to have an accent now from the language spoken in the nomadic tribe or w/e \m/
Post by Stomp Minn on Jan 28, 2015 13:02:46 GMT 9.5
THIS THING HURTS LIKE HELL
BUT WHAT DID YOU EXPECT?
"'n I-OWE-YOU, huh?"
Stomp managed to sound intrigued, casual, but she'd grown too accustomed to the potential meanings of an "IOU". She didn't think she'd refuse if the firestarter wanted to tumble between sheets or at least strip and tussle among whatever meager furnishing the Ennui assigned apartments allowed-- But if Sauren meant that Stomp owed her something sturdy and binding, like time or a plan or a comforting shoulder to extend, then Stomp could do without the allure of the Nivan.
But she kept her mouth shut about all these things teaming like schools or spiny, bioluminescent fish around and around and back around her mind. Better to wait it out-- There was a flicker of curiosity to be satisfied in actually visiting the strange, towering girl's apartment.
Stomp had roommates in her own, and she figure there was even more intrigue should Sauren's, if she had any, be available for goading and teasing and coercing liquor from.
Glancing down at her wrist, Stomp, barely even buzzed now, remembered that she'd never owned a watch and shrugged off the impulse with a chipper little hiss of air between her crooked teeth. The two of them were closing the gap between the outskirts of Ennui, the city, and where the designated living quarters for the University's students were located. A silence had fallen between them, which triggered a little itch under her skin, like insects wriggling and marching underneath.
"A business," she back-tracked topics, finding nothing else really to touch on, suddenly floundering for something to do with her distinctively loud-n-large mouth, "N what busy-ness woulda Ennui exhibit like yours-n-minesleves even have? Can't be much ta do or do outtin the open? I mean, without fascists seenin, an all."
‹WORDS› YEET ‹TAG›sauren vaalha‹NOTES› we run a fascist free business here, ma'am ‹MUSIC›HERE.
Post by sauren vaalha on Mar 10, 2015 13:53:56 GMT 9.5
Sauren clenched and unclenched her fingers as they walked, nervousness skittering under her calm and collected manner. The fire was burning, rolling inside of her and good gods, more than anything did she want to let it out. She could almost taste the Nivan on the tip of her tongue, the sweet cloying honey liquor that would fuel her fire and make everything burn brighter and wider and faster. Part of her was happy that she would have a companion in the destruction. She already knew Stomp would be on board for tearing shit up. Or burning it down.
“My business,” Sauren repeated as they started climbing the metal stairs that wound upwards on the side of Sauren’s apartment building. She used her Ennui ID card to swipe herself into the fourth floor and then gestured for Stomp to hobble her way in first. “You’ll see very shortly. I think Moro will be in,” she said. She bumped her hip against room 404's door just as she twisted the key and it gave way. The doorknob made a rather unpleasant noise as it hit the wall and then Sauren threw her keys on the kitchen counter.
A blue-haired girl sat cross-legged in the middle of the tiny living room just off the kitchen. She didn’t seem perturbed at all by the raucous entrance and instead of addressing the newcomers, took a deep breath and then relaxed. She was staring at the television screen and once Sauren took a second, she recognized the program as Strange Addictions. “Why do you watch this reality TV crap?” Sauren said in disgust and the girl on the couch just laughed, waved a flippant hand, and resumed her attention to the screen. Sauren kept walking into the hallway and opened her bedroom door the same way she had the front door. The room was bare, save for a few band posters, a lamp on the desk, and branding tools strewn on the bed.
“That’s my business,” Sauren said and pointed to the “tools.” She left Stomp to look or sit or do whatever and got on the floor to reach under her bed. She withdrew a small gray safe, twisted the lock, and flipped open the top. Plopping down on the bed, she angled it away from Stomp’s line of view and withdrew a mason jar half-filled with the amber Nivan. “Kids like the rugged look and as long as they take care of it, it doesn’t fester. I can be meticulous when i want to be.” She picked up one of her iron brands, a small one the size of a pencil that she’d had one of the metal manipulators make for her, and wrapped her fingers around it. The black metal slowly turned red and then orange, until it glowed white hot. Sauren grinned, twisting it through her fingertips, and then drew the heat back into her hand.
“Anyway, knock yourself out,” she said and threw the mason jar at Stomp. “And Moro, fucking Ennui threw her in here with me thinking she’d control my ‘urges.’ She manipulates emotions, but she won’t dare lay a finger on me. Or mind thing or whatever. I don’t know how those damn pathers work.” Sauren coughed awkwardly. “Anyway, figured we’d get drunk and let loose. Figured you’d be on board.”