Downright Delinquents discussion

((now that's a library))

((Yep))

Nathaniel strolled oh-so-casually into the library, looking around with a sort of disinterest. He had his hands shoved into his pockets, fumbling around with the lighter in the left one. He wasn't stupid enough to light a flame in a room full of flammable material, and as much as he would love to go elsewhere to smoke, elsewhere wasn't as quiet as he wanted it to be. He sat at a corner table, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling, his gaze never faultering.

Tormus stalled at the doorway. He was not deceived by their plain attempt to make a comforting environment for their students. It was nearly offended that they had even made such a bland attempt. His eyes just barely grazed over the neatly placed spine, confirming that none had even meddled with those particular book in a while considering the thin veil of dust remained undisturbed. Tormus saw one other occupying this area and that person just happened to be providing himself with a common source of nicotine. He casually sat in the chair opposing him, saying nothing at first as he quickly placed set of thoughts on how to proceed. "So, how did you come to end up in a place such as this?"

Nathaniel didn't acknowledge the other walking in, sitting across from him, making an attempt to start a conversation. It took him a good few good seconds to even bring his gaze down to the other, another few to decide whether or not to entertain him with answering. When he did, his voice was quiet, "I could ask you the very same, couldn't I?" He looked over the other for a moment, giving a nonchalant shrug. "Quiet, I suppose," he replied honestly.

Tormus gave a slight of the head, which some might consider a nod. Tormus decided to leave it up to him to decide what the motion meant. "As a small suggestion, after last hour which is nearing quite rapidly, I would recommend clearing out as a precaution. They do security checks of this area at that time and if you get caught with that" he said as he pointed a finger at the cigarette. "Then your privileges here might just begin to degrade."

Nathaniel listened to his warning, slightly amused, though it didn't exactly show on his face. He knew that he wasn't usually one to listen to others, but then again, he didn't need a repeat of the last time his mother took his cigarettes away. Wasn't he trying to lay low anyway? "Hmm... good to know..." He took a drag of the fag, letting out a fair amount of smoke to follow. "If that's the case, care to join me somewhere else?" He didn't necessarily need the company, but he should at least make one acquaintance for the time he'll be at this school, which is until he can leave on his own.

Tormus stood, though he seemed only vaguely interested in Nathaniel's offer. "And where is it you planned on proceeding to?" he asked, looking around as if he might meet another eye in the empty room. At the moment he was working to figure the inner workings of this place, a hobby that would occupy no more than a week. He still wished to know so he could more easily execute his plans once prepared and supplied. He almost began to leave before realizing once more that he was not in the lead. He had been so used to that form of leadership that it was strange and somewhat puzzling to be placed back at the start of the process once again.

Nathaniel followed him with his eyes. "Well, I was hoping you could tell me. I haven't had much the chance to explore yet," he said matter-of-factly. The way he started to walk off made him think there was something wrong with his head, but then he remembered where he was, what kind of people he was with, what kind of person he was classified as. He took the fag from his mouth and stood up in one fluid motion, his eyes shifting from the other to the books around them. "Oh, I forgot to ask... what's your name?"

Tormus returned his gaze to the wooden shelves, his finger slid over the vintage painted spine of a book. With this action he seemed to restore it to new as the dust slid away on his finger. He pulled the book from the shelve and flipped through the yellowed pages. Whatever the book contained could not hope to entertain him. He replaced the book exactly as it was "my name is of no relevance at the moment" he said with a pause, as if waiting for the words to soak in. "The dorms are not checked on until 9 PM, if you are searching for a supplier I may be able to procure a contact for you" he said as he slid a small white card from his pocket. The small card held four numbers and neglected to present a name. He placed the card on the table and began to walk away. Just as he reached the door frame he halted, turning his head enough to be heard "good luck" he said as his final parting words before disappearing down the corridor.

Nathaniel found this kid strange, yet oddly interesting. Was he trying to be mysterious? In a way, it worked, but then again, he had no information on this guy. Without bothering to look at the card, he shoved it away into his pocket. So much for getting someone to show him around. Oh well, he'd just spend the day doing some exploring in his own solitude. Back to where he started, he made his way out of the library to find someplace else.

Carson uneasily walked into the library, a questioning look on his face. He already didn't like the school, and would probably hate his therapy session later. Carson relaxed a little. How bad can it be? How bad can I be, compared to everyone else? He sat down in an armchair, holding a copy of Catcher in the Rye.

((Haha nice choice of literature, Carson!))

Zariana sat with her legs hanging over an arm of the chair and her back against the othe side, in her hand she had a copy of The Perks of Being a Wallflower . She usually didn't come across as a big reader but she was actually a total bookworm, she looked at her watch 'Oh dear I'm late for therapy, how will I ever go on' she thought sarcastically, even though one would hear, and went back to her book.

Morticia silently entered the library, visage devoid of expression. Her thoughts drifted to thinking of something good to read, as she didn't want o cut into her supply of literature too soon. She wandered for a bit, passing by a boy, whom she felt a tinge of familiarity from. Her brows furrowed, and she paused, glancing back.

Zariana glanced up as the newcomer entered the library and turned back to her book. She looked around quickly, as if she had forgotten where she was but the shhok her head and returned to reading. Standing now, she crossed the library to return her book with a yawn and then started humming a song as she searched for a new story, fiddling with her white bangs as she ran her fingers along the books while her eyes scanned the titles quickly.

Carson looked up at the girl who had just passed, and his eyes widened. Morticia. He flinched, almost, and slammed his book down, storming over to her in a fit of rage. He pushed her over, pinning her against a wall, and glaring at her, his eyes full of anger and disbelief.

Morticia gasped, the breath leaving her lungs from the force he'd put in. It took a moment, but the realization sunk in of who this was. A demented grin found its way onto her lips, a short chuckle of surprise rolling out. "I know you," she stated, "You're Carson, right?"

Carson opened his mouth to say something, out of instinct--Kill anyone, lately?--but all that came out was a strangled, throaty noise, unidentifiable. He looked away, gritting his teeth. You've got to be kidding me. Carson turned back, however, and slapped her clean across the face, leaving a bright red mark.

Morticia, quite tiny in comparison to Carson, found herself on the ground. She raised her fingers carefully to the throbbing cheek, just brushing against her lip which she was sure had split. She raised her head, sending him an equally leveled glare before standing up. She brushed herself off, sighing. "You're not worth it," she speculated.

Carson was about to go at her again, but something stopped him. The inability to speak, to communicate via his voice, was useless against her. He stared at her, his cold eyes boring into the girl. I swear to god, I will kill you. I will kill you--no. I'll do what you did to me. You deserve it.

Morticia raised a brow, unfazed. Her cheek still stung, and she was sure she'd need ice for it later. She licked her lips, ignoring the need to wince as her tongue slid over the split in her lip. "Done?"

Kassi walked in and rolled her eyes. How many of these people will really read the books? How many will have fun ruining and destroying them? she thought to herself with a chuckle.
She walked around, looking at this huge library that was supposed to look comforting.

Carson narrowed his eyes at her, gritting his teeth. For now. He clenched a fist and quickly left, before he punched her.

((He's going to be going to the Counselor's. xD))

((Petrus is there!))

((Oh shnap.))

Nathaniel poked his head around the corner, quickly scanning the area. He could have sworn he hadn't left his lighter here, but sure enough, just the slightest bit of gleam from the chair he'd sat in while in here earlier let him know that that was indeed the case. He let out a sigh and made his way in, trying to remain unnoticed. There were a few more people since the last time he'd been in here, and it made him uneasy, to say the least. Crowds-- people in general, really-- weren't his thing.

Morticia pressed her fingers against the throbbing pain coming from her cheek. She pursed her lips, wincing slightly at the sting it caused, and proceeded to return to her original objective. The flash of a light caught her eye, as well as the boy going for it. She decided against conversation, as it'd only cause more pain. She strode past the boy and his lighter to the bookshelf, cheek a bright red and with the faint starts of swelling.

Nathaniel slipped his lighter into his pocket, inwardly scolding himself for being stupid enough to leave without it. Addiction's tough. No matter, he had it now, that was what mattered. He turned and noticed the girl's unnaturally colored cheek and busted lip, and it reminded him of his father, of the similar marks he'd had. It looked bad, and surely, it would bruise, and for reasons unknown to him, he felt bad. Without realizing it, he said something aloud. "Must hurt," he mumbled.

Morticia froze, blinking. She looked over to the boy, brows furrowed. This wasn't a first, being confronted by a victim. In fact, this had happened over twenty times. A slap to the face was nothing she couldn't handle. "It doesn't hurt as much as you think," she replied, "You get used to it."

"I suppose you do..." Nathaniel would seem as though he was talking to himself, the way he looked everywhere but at the person he was talking to. "It just looks like it will last a while," he spoke with a shrug, his mumbling only becoming a bit louder than it was. She was right, of course, it did become somewhat of a bearable thing, especially something as minor-- in Nathaniel's eyes-- as a slap to the cheek.

Morticia nodded, turning her gaze to the books again. "Do you smoke, or is it just a way to show you have control of yourself," she inquired, gesturing to his lighter, "It'll kill you, if you do." She wasn't usually one to warn people when their deaths would be coming, see as she did end a few lives. She slid a novel from the shelf, looking back over at the boy again.

Nathaniel looked down to his pocket. "Well, if I told you I don't smoke, I'd be lying," he replied, "but I'm aware of the health risks... I don't smoke often enough to be considered full on addict, but smoking at all is enough to some." He didn't much care about himself, but yet he cared enough about others, particularly one person, to try to keep up some sort of health.

Morticia nodded again, glancing down at the book she'd chosen randomly. The cover was plain, but she hoped it would be good. She figured that she would eventually need to talk with someone other than a therapist. Holding out her hand for the boy to shake, she introduced herself. "Morticia Casketine Celeste Marquise Graves," she drawled, her New Orleanian tang clear in her words, "You?"

"What the mouth full," Nathaniel glanced at her hand and took it, finally looking at the girl and taking in her full appearance. "Nathaniel... no last name as of my coming here." His lip twitched, as if he wanted to smile, but it didn't come. He knew it wouldn't. The contact between the two was brief, the boy shaking her hand then letting go almost stiffly. He didn't talk to people often, so this was new, really.

"It's only a mouthful if you say everything," Morticia stated, "My first name is Morticia Casketine. That should make things slightly easier, but if not, Morticia is fine." The rambling was new, something hadn't done with anyone other those in her family. She averted her gaze to the floor, brows furrowed. She glanced up again, just to take in Nathaniel's facial features, when noticed the height gap. Was she really that small?

Nathaniel nodded, bringing a hand up to run it back through his hair. He felt like he was being awkward, though he didn't mean to be. However, much to his surprise, he spoke more than a couple sentences to this girl. He looked back at her, taking in the crazy-- not bad, but different-- hairstyle, and for some reason, he was particularly observant, noticing the little spot above her lip. He also noticed how much taller he was than her. He didn't think he was extremely tall, but it sort of felt that way next to Morticia, not to say it wasn't a nice change. "Morticia Casketine; I'll make it a point to remember..."

"I'll make a point to remember Nathaniel," Morticia responded, rocking back slightly on her heels. She licked her lips, making sure to carefully avoid the split in her bottom lip, and found herself nodding a again. Another first for the record books: a moment of social awkwardness that hadn't been a result of some sort of medical fact or background observation. She thought of possible subjects to jump to, sure to diverge from her usual topics of discussion. "What are you here for?"

Nathaniel didn't necessarily expect the question, but, he should have. It was a jail house in the form of a school. "I uh... I murdered my father..." He didn't mention the other stuff that complicated the situation, like the fact that the murder was placed under self-defense, or that his mother had gone nuts after his death. He left it at murder, because that's what it was, and that was how it would always seem. It's not something he wanted to dwell on for too long anyway. "What about you?"

There were a few words that were close to how fond Morticia was growing of Nathaniel, with just the slightest beginnings of one of her many unnatural philia kicking in. "I assaulted several people," Morticia answered, "I removed their vocal chords." There was also the silent echo of what she'd done prior to silencing a few unruly people that nagged at the back of her mind, pulling her attention away from Nate for only a moment.

Nathaniel let the smallest of smiles cross his features. "Better story than mine. Way to show me up," he teased, able to tell that she had been lost in thought for a moment. He would never pry though, it just wasn't right to pry someone's history from them. Besides, he didn't necessarily believe it mattered because what was done was done and it can never be changed.

"It was mostly retaliation," Morticia murmured, shrugging, "A long story behind it all that will probably bore you." She again licked her lips, head cocked to the side. This was the first time she'd actually told anyone what she'd done, and as the her many therapists had said that just talking would make her better, it didn't. It simply made her want to do it again, Nate's response prompting a small surge of pride in her.

"Probably, but it doesn't mean that maybe someday, I won't want to hear it..." Nathaniel gave a small shrug, bringing a hand up to his throat. "So long as you don't remove my vocal cords, I'll be alright." He was only half joking, running his hand through his hair. Surprisingly, he was enjoying this conversation, something he hadn't been able to do in a while.

((Hope you don't mind being double teamed ^-^))
Morticia felt a giggle bubble up her throat and she covered her mouth to hide her laughter. There'd never been many people who could make her laugh, and finding someone else who could do so other than those in her family was a welcome change. She opened her mouth to speak, but froze when she heard a familiar voice calling her name.

((Not at all!))

Nathaniel liked her laugh, even if she stopped it short. He didn't say so though, he'd probably die before he admitted something like that. The voice sounding out of his line of vision took him by surprise, and he turned towards it, his facial expression instinctively going back to no expression at all.

Petrus was more than elated to see his younger sister. As the eldest child, he'd taken pride in watching her grow up, and mostly in defending her. He strode over to the Morticia, wrapping her in a hug before be noticed who she had been talking to. "Who's this," he inquired, his smile waning slightly and his eyes narrowing.

Morticia returned the hug silently, fearing she might break down if she spoke. Her brither's question didn't come as a surprise, but the tone he used did. He seemed slightly on edge, as if he'd been provoked earlier on. She ignored that and answered, "Nathaniel. We were having a nice conversation just now."

Nathaniel nodded in his direction, as both a hello and an act of agreement. He had to admit it was a better conversation amongst the few he'd had for the past... few year, even, except with his sister maybe. She was creative and active to say the least. Back to the topic at hand, he looked at the other that had shown. "And you are?"

"Petrus," he replied, glancing between Morticia and Nathaniel. He paused, brows furrowing as he took a small step back. "Who did this to you?" He brought a few fingers to brush against her slightly swollen cheek, then to her lip. His gaze drifted towards Nathaniel, expression expectant.

"It was someone we knew," Morticia intervened, "He left." She winced again when his fingers brushed against her cheek, the sting just barely fading now.

Nathaniel held his hands up when Petrus looked over, perking a brow. "Innocent..." He silently thanked Morticia for explaining. "Is this your brother?" It would explain so much about his behavior if he was, and it wouldn't surprise him at all. No wonder he was being a bit protective; hell, he knew the feeling. He'd do the same if his sister were talking to a boy and had a bruise on her cheek. In fact, he'd end up beating the life out of the person responsible, so it wasn't like he couldn't respect a brother's rights.

Morticia nodded in acknowledgement, a small smile on her lips. "Did you see where he went," Petrus inquired, directing the question at both of them. His expression was calm, and he appeared composed, but the thoughts running through his mind were anything but calm.