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
Recovering from the second-near drowning of the day (which was just as unpleasant as the first despite having been milk instead of water), Clyde straightened his glamor up in time to catch the exchange between his two "companions". His gaze darted between the two-- the boy with the dark hair and the girl with the wild hair-- again and he narrowed his eyes. They seemed like they were getting at something. An obvious joke? An affirmation of whatever nasty trick they had planned for him? He didn't like the way girl spoke
“I wouldn’t go as far to say I can see souls, but I can see you’re different.”
Fear flashed through Clyde's expression-- he could feel his mouth slowly part and hang in open-mouthed disbelief. Did this intimidating pair know? But how could they? How could anyone--
“Why does your aura stop here, hm?”
Fool reached towards him and Clyde did not have time to flinch until he'd gotten close enough to leave his palm hovering centimeters from the inglorious glamor. With a startled but muffled inhale, Clyde drew away from the other boy, nearly bucking himself from his own chair; his weight hadn't been enough, though, to upset the furniture, which was, perhaps, the only event of the day to have flipped in his favor.
Fool was grinning like a fox with eye the color of chlorinated water and the curly haired one, Rose, she looked half-amused as well. Humored enough to supply her own reason for Fool's question,
"Prolly didn' feed 'is soul 'nough veg when 'e was little."
It took him a bit to puzzle his way through the accent and then another to try and figure out what the jab of the statement was supposed to be. Was she insulting his upbringing or his personal habits? He was on the verge of asking her, no longer afraid to hide the irritation in his voice, when Fool cut in,
"The cards won’t tell me, but they’ll tell you what you need to know. So what'll it be?”
Clyde glanced down at the fairy mug and suppressed a shudder, his mind racing with the fear and anger of his own predicament, both currently and all of his life in general, and then said, avoiding both his "companions" eyes,
"If I agree to go along with whatever you're talking about, will you leave me alone until," he glanced back at the water pelting against the cafe windows, "Until the rain stops?"
I think I might be
Of the man and the men with their hands inside and the women, oh, the women all they do is cry And i, well i lose my mind
Post by fool blevins on Feb 2, 2015 13:35:33 GMT 9.5
just give me starlight
in the cards
What was it with his companions today and their need for personal space? Fool twisted his delicate wrist around and drew his hand back to join the other in shuffling the cards. “Until the rain stops?” Fool repeated, glancing outside the window with his burning blue eyes. The rain was coming down even harder now, in ice-cold buckets, and knowing Occide, it was probably going to last all day. Fool’s intuition only supported this belief so when he rounded his gaze back on the blond, he nodded enthusiastically and said, “The rain’s not going to stop anytime soon, but I couldn’t make that promise anyway. You’re too cute.”
Still, in Fool’s book Clyde’s answer meant go ahead in terms of the reading. The cards teemed with energy in his hands as if anxious to make their magic work and Fool was more than willing to comply. The purple mist looped and spiraled, rippling wherever Fool’s fingers touched, and suddenly he stopped shuffling, one hand pinched between his middle and pointer finger. He tossed the card onto the table, fingers sifting through the deck and digging out the cards that had suddenly grown hot to the touch; Fool’s smile widened into a wolfish grin and he leered down at the cards, greedily plucking them as they made themselves known, purple aura reaching out to grasp Clyde’s own. Of course, Fool’s own curiosity was part of the reason the deck was hyperactive, burning like coals in his hands.
Four cards rested face-up on the counter when he was done. The rest of the deck quieted and Fool placed it to the side, turned his attention to Clyde’s chosen cards. “Pentacles, representing earth, its grounding nature with money, possession, and security." His hands hovered over a marble green card, an ivory woman cradling three floating crescent moon pentacles in her hands. The card, although not upside down, showed signs of a struggle; the woman grasped the nearest pentacle as the others strained against her grasp. “You hold on very tightly to the few things you have, use material possessions to structure your life. This card symbolizes a closed-off nature.” His lips quirked. “The books would read, ‘tension as a result of miserliness.’ And that, Clyde, is your self-card.” The blond’s name came unbidden from Fool’s lips, but he hardly noticed, already moving on to the next card.
“Another pentacle card. The number nine is associated with success and achievement; the woman has cultivated this tree with a great degree of self-discipline, something you take pride in. And the Fool,” Fool said with a laugh. “Well, that’s twice in one day, albeit yours is reversed. Let’s see—“ he said and moved on to the last card. “Ah, the page of wands; sits nicely with the earth cards you’ve pulled. The Fool and the Page together display uncertainty, hesitancy, and caution. Someone unfaithful and not to be trusted.” Fool leaned over the cards and looked up into Clyde’s eyes. “But maybe they’re just telling me this isn’t real,” he said and snaked up a hand to pull experimentally on one of Clyde’s blond curls.
Post by Rose Pekkanen on Feb 14, 2015 4:17:36 GMT 9.5
there's a certain degree
"of not ever giving a fuck"
A kinder person, a softer person, would have felt an ache in their chest at the blond's plight. But Rose was a) not soft and b) not kind and anyways, c) had been the perpetrator of his stress for the past few minutes, so the question really was--was she going to stop?
Chances were, no.
She watched with interest as the blond gave in with a bitter drag to his words. He was shy or some'at, refusing to look her or Fool in the eyes, but apathy incarnate just took this as a chance to start fiddling with her coffee, wondering if it would be too much to put a handful of sugar cubes in it. She shrugged, moving it into a roll of her shoulders (joints popping a little, head tilting back), before tossing one of the sugar cubes into her mouth. Straight to the source. Faster, and more efficient, than stirring her drink for the next minute.
"Some'at flirty today, aren't y' Fool," Rose commented around crunching sugar crystals. "Y' don't e'en know ol' blondie's name. Bit forward, don'tcha think?"
But Fool had already moved into reading the deck and giving in to her natural curiosity, Rose leaned forward, popping a new sugar cube into her mouth to keep up the grainy background noise.
The reading itself didn't mean much to her. Lots of words, lots of swirling, lots of magic clouding the air around them like a goddamned funeral shroud. Well, she couldn't see it, but her fertile street-rat's mind made up the rest on her behalf.
So, funeral shroud, and she'd bet money on the blond's face going through half a dozen different expressions in the next few minutes as Fool began listing and listing. Pentacles this, pentacles that. What the fuck was a goddamned pentacle?
Rose watched, and she listened, and crunched extra loud when Fool started talking about reversing cards, because if you asked her the whole thing seemed kind of unnecessary. "Eh, someone unfaithful? Y'are talkin' 'bout people, Fool. Only babes 'ave any honest bones in their bodies." But apparently, that wasn't what he had meant, and for the second time today Fool went kamikaze and grabbed for someone else's hair.
So to return back to Rose's point about being kind and gentle. If there was a time, now was it--to grab Fool's wrist and give him a stern talking to about politesse an' people-skills.
But she just watched and grabbed a third sugar cube, pressing it firmly behind her teeth and biting down, watered-down eyes staring at Blondie. Crunch.