Setting
At fifteen she had a very specific look she wanted, and the teachers were slowly chipping it away with threats of detention and taking away 'banned materials'. She rolled her eyes, scrunching the paper up into a ball as she moved into the lunch room. Already a set of sunken eyes drifted over the different cliches and groups that had formed, each taking a table. It made her sick to the stomach. She could pick them out. The young uncertain kids who were just trying to find their place. The 'cool' table, if you could call anyone here cool. The guys who were interested in sports. The people who just wanted to go home.
Bleh.
They were all boring. But that was okay, she had a plan. She just needed to get into the infamous Late Night Club. But nobody seemed to know anything about it.
"Excuse me, c-c-could I have a sandwich?" She seemed to almost choke on the sentence. Her soft voice was thankfully loud enough for the lunch lady to hear her, so she nodded, gave her a wrapped up sandwich, and Inari placed the money needed on the counter before rocketing off. She was almost out of the room when...
THUD!
She had ran directly into someone, not looking ahead of her. Her face went pale and her eyes widened when she realized who she had collided with: Deilah Conners. Arguably one of the tougher girls in school. She looked like a deer in headlights, until she finally spoke.
"OhmygodI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry!" She looked like she was almost about to cry, from being so scared, embarrassed, and in general nervous.
"A-A-Are you ok? Did I hurt you?" Her voice, even when freaking out, was still soft, but probably loud enough for Deilah to hear her.
It wasn't too long before Maria had reached the cafe, in which she saw two girl's bumping into eachother, with the student who was in a rush freaking out. Maria couldn't help but wonder about the girl and got a few steps closer to the duo. This place was filled with problem students, and she wanted to get as much 'dirt' on each and every student on the school for her own gain at a later time.
Diana watched and couldn't help feeling sorry for Inari. I mean, she looked like she was about to crap herself. that wouldn't be good for her. But then again, it wasn't her problem, if she got involved now she could make enemies and you know what, you don't want enemies at this school. Even as she begged herself not to she found her legs moving towards the now two girls and a bi stander named maria.
"I saw the whole thing, urm, Inari didn't mean to urm bump into you!" Said Diana awkwardly, as she saw Inari shyly smile the faintest smile at her. She didn't need telling that this girl was gonna have a heck of a time at Alexander's.
"I-Imreallysorrypleaseforgiveme!" With that she turned to the door, and sprinted away. She eventually burst through the main doors, and took solace in the courtyard, sitting against one of the Academy walls, quivering and eating her sandwich. She looked down at the scarring on her hand, which also extended to the most of that side of her torso and face, and the quivering became more intense, as if she was a phone set to vibrate.
Her feet stomped down the path Inari took, ignoring her need for lunch, and when she rounded the corner and saw the girl she slapped a hand against the wall and loudly said, "Hey!" to catch the other girls attention. Part of her wanted to look over her shoulder in case a teacher heard, but she would just have to bluff it out. "You're going to make it up to me for knocking me over, or else."
Carefully, he grabbed the spine of his book, titled "The Deep Blue Sea", and set it beside him. He parted his lips, which twitched as he felt the need to speak, but quickly shut his jaws and found himself pressing further against the wall as if that would help his current situation. He craned his neck to the side and turned his head, staring the opposite direction, however he watched her out of his peripheral vision. As if that'd really do anything to help his communication crisis. Come on, you're supposed to act like the "great predator of the sea", Emil. Brave up and stop acting like a little girl in a petting zoo and confront the lady. Maybe you'd make a friend or two- not that it really occurred to him much.
He raised one of his arms, tugging the collar of his shirt with a clear of his throat. Perhaps that'd catch her attention? Eh, it didn't matter. Deciding he was going to say something, he leaned into his shoulder, his palm resting on the ground. He swallowed briefly before he cracked a lopsided smile, attempting to be as friendly as he could muster.
"Hello." He greeted, his words slightly slurred due to his heavy Swedish drawl. It was always sort of awkward, considering sometimes people had a hard time understanding what he was saying. He certainly hoped this wouldn't be a problem here- though even if it was, it definitely wouldn't be the first. It's what happens when you're born and raised in Sweden, then all of a sudden have to move. But, right now, that was besides the point. He was busy wondering in his head if he may have "weirded out" the girl by his abrupt words, or disturbed her from her little feast. He hoped not.
Maria noticed the slur in the boy's greeting, though couldn't tell whether it was from the boy's origin, or if he just had trouble speaking. She repeated what the boy said in her mind four times before she finally understood what the boy said. She turned her head away from the food and looked at the boy, analyzing him from top to bottom, and in her head saying the kid could use a tan, he looked like a ghost for crying out loud. Maria almost blankly, thinking it'd be weird to smile at him after having tasted probably the worst thing she's tasted in her entire life.
"Hello." Maria replied calmly as she set the spoon down back onto her plate. "Your name would be?"
"But don't think you can go telling anyone. If we don't find the Late Night Club, then nobody hears about it, alright?" She almost laughed. She felt like an average school bully, but this girl was such a coward she couldn't help it.
Nodding to himself, he steadied his mental state and cleared his throat once more, responding in his usual nearly monotone, calm voice- heavily tinted with his oddball accent. "Emil Mansson," he replied, letting his head roll the side to rest against his arched-up shoulders, brows raised, "who might you be?" Now, he wasn't one to be too social, but he figured a little chit chat-small talk couldn't harm him any. His gaze strayed for a moment, letting it roam around the length of the lunch room, staring at the walls before quickly snapping his focus in place once more. He's so easily distracted- and he even noted this himself.
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