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 GINGER CREEPS on Apr 5, 2014 21:15:24 GMT 9.5
“Hey, woah, don’t touch,” chastised Gin calmly, as she slapped the pre-teen’s hand away from where he was about to grab at her in his anger “Give me what I asked for and then you get what you want.”
The boy frowned up at her from under mousy brown curls, the ripe acne on his nose caught in the absent crinkling of his frustration. He wrestled with the pockets of his jacket for a moment before pulling out a quarter ounce of coke in the form or two eight balls and holding them up toward her face. “Here, bitch. It’s all I could get. Now give me the goddamn bike.”
Gin grinned and snatched the coke from his hand before he had a chance to react, then snapped her fingers. A Grenade Flare BMX bike appeared in the spot before him, falling to hit his legs before he managed to catch it, causing him to hiss out loud in discomfort.
“That’s all you can afford, if you don’t like it then that’s too bad,” she stated matter-of-factly while occupying herself with a nail of coke “Tell your Daddy I said hello, alright?”
The kid, named Sam or something equally mundane, saluted her by flipping the bird in her face, before wheeling away. The kid was a little brat, but his father – Edward… Eddy – was a real piece of work, a dentist with salt and pepper hair and a discreet coke addiction. Ginger has seen him twice in the office before visiting him at home, which was where she had met Sam-what’s-his-name and discovered the rather obnoxious problem with her plans to woo Eddy. She could deal with children though, they were easy to buy, and that’s where the BMX came into play.
Despite his attitude toward her, Gin couldn’t help but swell with the happiness she felt when she could give someone something they really wanted. The feeling was only amplified when they managed to give her something that made her equally as happy to receive.
Tucking the coke in her bra, Gin sat back down on the deck chair a few feet from the open door of her beat up Winnebago. She leaned forward to start up a fire in the pit near her feet, vacantly wishing she were a flame elemental so it wouldn’t take quite as long, and then pulled out a kettle of fresh water to boil for once the fire was well lit.
Flicking on the chipped radio hanging from the arm of her chair, the chilled sounds of the Baker Street saxophone solo called out into the dim forest surrounding her.
She leaned back in her chair while the flames began to catch on the fresh kindling she had collected earlier in the day, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. Taking a drag, Gin began to sing loudly to the tune of the saxophone, her naturally quiet voice straining to hit the louder notes and cracking at pitches she couldn’t reach.
She wasn’t concerned about bothering strangers; she could handle herself just fine.
Post by Clyde Mannette on Apr 6, 2014 15:42:34 GMT 9.5
"You'd think," the young man snapped at the scattered trees that surrounded him, "That since there is hardly any altitude change between here and town, there would be less god damn snow."
The last three words turned into more of a whine and Clyde paused to listen to the sharp trill of his "true voice" echo back through the dark pines. He had felt him self accomplished so far: picking his way through the two inches of old snow that clung to the already slippery, withered needles blanketing the forest floor, toting the small binder with his three recent plant samples tucked inside, and, mostly, managing to keep his composure. But the cold was getting to him, his barrier dimming and leaving his lower half, the real one anyways, soaking from the snow.
"It's ridiculous, sending someone like... like me to do this insufferable grunt work."
The young changeling had, of course, willingly offered himself for the position, seeing as the collection of these 12some plants was for extra credit, but, as always, Clyde was the first to consider himself a victim of something and would be the last to stop verbally reminding others of this. He was out of breath, though, and took a moment to lean his barrier against a ragged looking fir tree. It was then that he heard the noise.
In his first auditory glimpses of the wretched sound he assumed that it was one of the large eyed birds that often leered down at him from the upper boughs of the towering trees, but as his ears pin pointed the highs and lows he realized the racket was coming from a human being-- or at least something human like. He dropped his facade for a moment and edged around the silver-brown, poking his head out from behind the wood. This side of the tree marked the beginning of a steep decline that dropped into one of the many low-budget camp grounds that where scattered aimlessly throughout this part of the forest, but, unlike the other campsites he had passed, this one had a tenant. A tenant slouched back in a reclining chair who seemed to be attempting to sing along with a sax number squealing through an outdated radio.
At the sight of another individual, Clyde instinctively replaced the barrier and the earth adjusted accordingly; the loose forest floor and soggy dirt giving way under the weight of his "false self" and sending his "true" one careening head long down the hill.
He let out a yelp, followed by an obscenity, and was about to continue this pattern when his facade's face collided with a scraggly shrub. Despite how shrimpy the solid illusion was, he'd managed to crush most of the resilient plant's spindly branches and rolled off it with a small groan. The world blurred and he felt as if he were going to vomit, but he suddenly recalled his assignment.
"The samples," he cried, despite himself, and struggled to his knees; scrambling around in the light snow for a sign of the tiny object.
But his efforts proved futile and he sat back on his heels, his greasy white hair peppered with a few yellow leaves, some twigs, and a wad of sap. By then he had quickly forgotten the strange woman and her obnoxious voice and he almost screamed when he looked up from the ground to see her still sitting in her chair a few feet from him.
Post by GINGER CREEPS on Apr 9, 2014 13:18:21 GMT 9.5
Chewing on the filter between her lips, Ginger hung the tea kettle over the fire with only a little trouble and hummed out the tune in her vacant concentration. Her legs were squat wide and the knees of her jeans dirty from handling the logs and kindling earlier in the day. Her dirty fingerprints were smeared along the normally reflective surface of the kettle, she frowned at the marks left there.
A soft rustling in the trees followed by a blast of obscenities coming from far off behind her head startled her suddenly and caused her to fall back in her chair, the commotion sounding louder and louder as it came toward the back of her chair behind which she was hiding carefully. “Who the actual fuck…” she whispered, peeking her head over the chair and staring at the filthy face of the pale haired boy beside her chair “Who the fuck are you?”
Taking a red hot poker from the edge of the fire, Ginger stood up and braced it between herself and the stranger before her, her gaze daring him to make a move toward her.
“You better fucking explain yourself,” she warned, squaring her shoulders and preparing herself, the drugs hyping the situation a little “Or this is gonna find a nice home as your third leg.”
Post by Clyde Mannette on Apr 9, 2014 14:05:55 GMT 9.5
Clyde scrambled to put distance between himself and the woman who had gone from a terrible sax miming singer to a maniac wielding a hot poker. He instinctively put up a hand, incase the woman decided to lunge at him with the offending weapon, and managed,
"W-wait-- I don't-- I'm not fucking doing anything I just," his eyes darted along the forest floor once again, as if this latest search would reveal his lost assignment, "I was just collecting plants. I-I'm a student-- I--"
He tried to back up again but found that he was already pressing against the front of the sharp decline. He glanced up towards the ledge he had fallen from, gulped, despite himself, and then looked back at the clearly insane woman with wide eyes.
"Listen, I just got caught off guard from your," he looked at the orange tip of the poker, "Interesting singing. That's all. And besides, there's no reason to point that thing at me. I'm not trying anything or--" he paused and scrambled mentally to find the words that would keep this stranger from skewering him, "Anything."
Another mark against him. Clyde pressed himself against the layers of reddish sediment and prayed that this jittery creep had some ounce of mercy in her.
Post by GINGER CREEPS on Apr 15, 2014 14:39:20 GMT 9.5
Ginger continued to brandish the makeshift weapon at the stranger until his pathetic explanation seemed to seem reasonable enough to her, the decision made almost as instantly as the one to skewer him in the first place. His comment about her singing almost convinced her to singe him just for the sake of it, but she lowered the poker slowly anyway. She was a better person than that.. sometimes, and there were better ways to get back at snarky brats.
Although she could not see the collection of plants the boy had mentioned, she could see from the clear look of absolute terror on his face that he was telling the truth. If he were lying he would surely have come up with a stronger excuse for crashing his way onto her rented lot and disturbing her. Unless this was his lie and he was just suffering from his own idiocy. Nonetheless, it didn’t really matter to her so long as he wasn’t a threat, and a brief glimpse at his scrawly, pasty body was enough to convince her that he was harmless enough.
“Alright, fine,” she began, turning to throw the object back into the burning logs, causing a flurry of sparks and embers about the area and into the air “I guess I’m sorry, but it’s kind of what you get for scaring the shit out of a girl from the thick of the woods.”
Ginger took a step back to let the boy have some room to calm himself and realise that he wasn’t in quite as much danger as first anticipated, for the moment at least. She knelt on the edge of her old deck chair and crossed her arms, enjoying the feeling of control that came with standing over the other boy, even from the distance she had drawn between them.
“You came through pretty fast though, and hit the ground kind of hard by the looks of it,” she took a proper look at the boy now, spotting the flecks and smudges of dirt over parts of his body that had collided with the earth “You want a drink? No offense, but you look like crap. What’s your name?”