Snippet #1882392

Damien went to sit beside December after a moment of watching everything happen, everyone gather into their own little groups, and everything work itself out. Maybe it was her quietness that he liked -- her lack of chatting up a storm and making him think -- or maybe it was how he kept "hearing" flashes of him in her thoughts -- whether it be his name or a brief memory of her glancing at him and her thoughts as her vision processed the sight of his face.

"Hey," he greeted again, making a point to be verbal. Damien was interested in becoming her friend; he was interested in becoming anyone's and everyone's friend. The scrawny boy hated to be alone.

He saw a flash of a new student -- another with piercings and a darker look to him, much like himself -- and laid back on the grass. He, too, had more piercings than necessary, but he didn't think anyone really cared. He thought they were all relatively tasteful, else he wouldn't have gotten them. While he was thinking about piercings, he ran his tongue along them on the inside of his mouth, never parting his lips.

Perhaps the guy on the steps would also become a friend, but he saw something else that entertained him. He saw an exotic animal running around campus. He didn't know who would be the owner or the student, but he looked over to Emerson and the older student, sure it would be one of them.

-

"I'm Tucker, and yup." He was about to say something else, but he found the conversation between the two interesting, and, beyond that, rude to interrupt, so he waited. Patience -- he had it, but he didn't always use it. He looked between them, guessing the girl's powers must have really been something else, something amazing, by the boy's looks, or maybe he was just crushing on her. Either seemed likely. He zoned out after a while, listening, in a way, though he was just soaking up the sun now.

Too often, people rushed past what life had to offer, took the gentle breeze for granted, took the live, healthy grass, and its delicious smell, for background color, and never stopped to see what it was doing. The answer: It was living. That thought brought him out of his thoughts. He stood up and clenched his fingers, the bones cracking, and shifted his form, clothes and all, to a cheetah. He always found it easier to change shape over color, and his hair worked so well with a cheetah's coat. He crouched before taking off.

The faster he went, the larger the breeze, and the more he could enjoy the simple pleasure of life. He took on no instincts of the animal -- he was working with his own reflexes -- so the only situations he was worried about were stopping and turning, should something happen to cross his path, which would only mean a crash and burn.