WELCOME

[Honey Coleman]

she has no problem with secrets. she knows how to keep them, she never felt the need to let them show. i had no trouble with speaking, but trusting my instincts. maybe this is one i should know. and as i'm waiting there the devil on my shoulder stares, laughing at the one thing i can't get is what i need. she is the words that i can't find. how can be the only thing that's killing me make me feel so alive

She was late. She knew it. It was a sneaking realisation seconds before the sound of someone's loud ringtone suddenly snapped out of her deep coma state; her watch was all the confirmation she needed to stand up and run out of her to-be classroom. Was it her fault if these desk chairs were unbelievably comfortable? The recline function made them all the more heavenly. Honey was seriously considering buying one for her own bedroom; her bed may have been very sturdy for the more active tasks, passive ones such as sleeping or relaxing were unenjoyable. From what she'd read, it had something to do with her mattress.

Honey slowed down to a quick walk when she got to the teacher's lounge. The amount of trouble Honey estimated she'd be in for being so late would range from mild annoyance to total outrage. This type of thinking was not usually synonymous with her - optimism and positive thinking was who she was. But not today. Today, she'd been invited to a funeral in the morning, unexpectedly awoken from a very deep sleep this afternoon, and this afternoon was still punishing her: there was no one in the lounge.

"What?" she muttered to herself, slowly walking away and shaking her head with confusion. There was no way she missed the entire meeting. Honey looked at her watch again. It was supposed to have started 3 minutes ago. Plus, she'd been told anything that called for an actual meeting meant they'd be there for at least half an hour. Did no one show?

Something clicked. In a mad dash to prove herself right (or wrong; it was unclear what she wanted, even to her) Honey got her phone out and checked her messages. 1 unread. "Today's meeting has been postponed until further notice." Honey read aloud. A cloud of despair formed over her head. She exited the building and walked across the school grounds to try and make sense of how her head was feeling - possibly even cry a bit.

On second thought, no. She would cry more than 'a bit'.

Before students had started, Honey had done a quick survey of the grounds. She'd found everything she looked for in a campus or area just before starting - from where the best coffee maker was, to the nicest looking bathrooms, right now to her potential hiding place. Honey may not have been the person who would need to hide from someone to begin with ("no enemies since the 70s", she often joked) but she needed to have some place to go when her emotions got volatile. Honey had made friends with some of the janitorial staff, who then offered her an eternal-invitation to their little shack of a building. She'd put it in good use today. When she got there, the smell of bleach and chemicals would overpower all her senses and leave her defenceless. She would then curl into a ball on Jarvis' floor and weep uncontrollably. Maybe then today would go better.

Honey didn't manage to get to the halfway point of the grounds before her day got worse. So consumed by her thoughts that it didn't occur to her that she should probably pay attention to where she was walking.

Before she knew it, Honey was at the mercy of gravity. Only at the last second did she put her hands in front of her and prevent from landing face-first. She lay on the ground, silent and unmoving. What had she tripped over? Seemed like something large - a bag, perhaps? Did it even matter? Honey slowly turned onto her back, looking up at the presumed owner of whatever she'd fallen over.

"I am so sorry!"

It was typical Honey to apologise to someone who had - technically - caused her pain. It was also typical of her to feel like she was about to cry, even though the fall hadn't hurt her too badly. I must not cry. I must not cry. I must not cry. she thought to herself, over and over. At some point, she asked herself why she was getting all of this today - maybe it was because she'd reunited with her long-time enemy, the dress.

Maybe she should blame today on her dress.

tag: open outfit: here word count: 712 graphic credit: google! note: oh honey. template credit: henry @ SDS also found at rpgraphx

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I edit in blue!



AMAZING set by the great Ozo!

[Jensen Houston]

LIKE A FIRECRACKER

WHOA I NEVER MEANT TO BRAG, BUT I GOT HIM WHERE I WANT HIM NOW. WHOA IT WAS NEVER MY INTENTION TO BRAG. TO STEAL IT ALL AWAY FROM YOU NOW!

With a frown, the music teacher tried his best to plan his schedule correctly, but the boxes that formed the table in which he was supposed to fill in so many dates and events were driving him insane. At first, he assumed that the day would be a busy one for him, but the teachers' meeting was cancelled out of the blue and he sighed in irritation as he recalled the several events that he pushed back just because of the stupid meeting.Then, he was faced with an inanimate object, trying to pen down what would be going on for the next one month in his life. Meetings, lessons, breakfasts, lunches, brunches, dinners, dates and all those shit. Though he didn't have a bad memory, Jensen knew that it was always better to write them down, but what if he end up not bothering to even check to see what he had? Things worked out pretty well when he had Shane to remind him of what he had, so why bother changing? "Screw you," he muttered as he threw the notebook across the room, not caring when it landed in the rubbish bin, along with the empty packaging on chocolate. With the blue ink pen still in his right hand, he proceeded to scribble what his plans for the next two days were on his left wrist. "Jam session, lunch with Shane, and ..." he listed his plans out loud as he wrote them down, satisfied when several lines of untidy words appeared on his untanned skin. Jensen Houston was a careless and unorganised man, and he wasn't going to start doing so just because he ought to. When he felt like ditching dates or minor gatherings, he would just promptly do so, so it was obvious that a schedule notebook would not be telling him otherwise. Writing in it would be a waste of brain cells, time and energy on his part, it was an unfair deal. "You can't tell me what to do," he spat, getting up and taking a glance at his room. Remembering the jam session that he promised his students the next day, he decided to move some of the equipments that he had prepared for them to the school theatre before he forget all about them.

With four boxes containing some banners that he had prepared, clappers and other items, they were a great deal to lug to school, and he decided to just start with the banners first. They were probably the most important items, he thought, going into his room to change into a simple grey shirt and dark grey hoodie with black pants. Taking a quick look in the mirror, he sent himself a grin as he took in his dyed black hair, it was only temporarily so for a few days. He felt like looking slightly younger and freak his students out, so Jensen went ahead to dye it black and even rid his face of his growing stubble. Then, he looked much younger than the age that he was, and he wasn't surprised that he was still capable of doing so. Not that he was complaining, but Jensen knew that he was having problem ageing normally. The occasional paparazzi and fans who stalked him thought that it was a good thing, but he knew that ten years down the road, it would get really strange. Imagine a forty-year-old man still looking as though he was twenty-five years old, that would be odd and very much unnatural.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the worrisome thoughts that were unbecoming, he took the bag containing the banners and the box with the awful lengths of text and musical notes that he had to hand out to his students in the next few lesson, opened the door and headed out to his car. It was only a few minutes' ride to school, since the roads were uncongested and his house was that close to the Westwood Arts Academy's campus. Swerving into the school parking lot, he parked his car and swiftly got out. As he was making his way to the buildings, he felt a buzz and knew that it was a text message. Since he wasn't in a rush whatsoever, he stopped and placed his belongings on the floor for a moment, reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone. "Malone is coming to lunch with us," he read and cursed Shane in his head. He hated that gold-digging slut and her shameless claws that reaches out to everyone within her radius. Not only that, her fake tan and her fake accent were extremely annoying. He wished that he could just kill her, but that would be a waste of effort on his part.

Before he could reply to the text message, the brunette heard footsteps and turned around, just in time to see a blonde hair lady tripping over his items and nearly landed on the concrete ground face first. "I am so sorry!" she cried out, and he couldn't help but wonder how it was not her fault that she tripped over his items that were carelessly placed on the ground on which anyone could walk on. Walking over, he quickly scanned her limbs, hoping that she wasn't injured from the fall. "Sorry for what? That was my line that you stole, my lady," he drawled, pocketing his cellphone. The infuriating message could wait.

--908 words--tag nova/honey--

TEMPLATE BY DAN IS AN ELDER @ CAUTION 2.0

This post has been edited by Stella on Jun 13 2011, 03:05 PM

[Honey Coleman]

she has no problem with secrets. she knows how to keep them, she never felt the need to let them show. i had no trouble with speaking, but trusting my instincts. maybe this is one i should know. and as i'm waiting there the devil on my shoulder stares, laughing at the one thing i can't get is what i need. she is the words that i can't find. how can be the only thing that's killing me make me feel so alive

Dazed would be the correct term for Honey's current mind set. It was hard for her to comprehend that this was happening right now. She was on the floor, her knees and limbs were paining her, and it couldn't even have been a female that came to help her up. No, of course not, said the Universe. Honey could feel the world sticking its tongue out at her with a menacing smile. She could also feel her cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

Pathetic.

"Sorry for what? That was my line that you stole, my lady,"

Honey took in a deep breath before sitting herself up and looking at her arms. They were grazed and a deep shade of red, but she wasn't bleeding. An inspection of her knees concluded the same thing. Perhaps there was some virtue to falling on concrete, rather than grass. Her dress was dull with dust - nothing a sweep with her hands wouldn't fix. Honey found it annoyingly ironic that her dress came out scot-free. It deserved to be punished too.

"My lady? Ladies have good night sleeps and watch where they're going." Honey attempted to smile through her rough mood. She wasn't sure how she was going to get up in heels without falling but she tried anyway. Although she was a little wobbly on her way up, her arms managed to push her onto her feet.

Now that she was facing this man (with cheeks considerably less pink) Honey examined him with a critical eye. It was starting to get a lot easier for her to differentiate teachers from students now (especially the older ones) but this man had her stumped. He looked so...young. And yet, there was something that suggested he wasn't a student. Soon Honey took her gaze off the man to look at where she'd fallen and what she'd tripped over.

"Oh my gosh I'm so sorry!" Honey found herself saying again, as she dropped down into a squat and put the box she'd tripped over back upright. She winced as she went down. Her knees hurt as she bent them, and her arms didn't want to move. "Let me help you with your stuff." she offered, although it came out more as a statement than a offer.

Many people had told her she was too nice, and warnings from her peers often popped into her head whenever she tried to help someone. She really, really hoped this wasn't a student. Honey had barely started in WAA, and the last thing she wanted was some sort of implication.

Honey carefully picked up any stray pieces and placed them back inside the box. Now was the hard part - standing up, in heels, while holding a box.

The problem with heels was that her sense of balance was heavily affected. Maybe if she had been casually walking along and saw him with his boxes on the floor, she wouldn't have hesitated to pick the box up. She'd already made a fool of herself though - the last thing she wanted to do was fall again. A sigh escaped. A silent mutter to the heavens, and Honey swiftly picked up the box while standing up at the same time.

Maybe if the box was heavier, she wouldn't have felt like she was about to fall backwards. She staggered one, two steps back before proudly grinning at her balance achievement. Upon realising she hadn't even introduced herself, however, Honey's cheeks turned pink once more. Her parents had raised her better than that.

"I'm Honey, by the way." - a small pause - "Unless you're a student. Then I'm still Honey, just call me Miss Coleman in front of the dean.."

Oh boy, did Annaliese Howard scare her.

tag: open outfit: here word count: 626 graphic credit: google! note: blah, sorry this post is a bit icky xP template credit: henry @ SDS also found at rpgraphx

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I edit in blue!



AMAZING set by the great Ozo!