|
|
Post by Decklyn O'Conner on Jan 24, 2017 3:59:06 GMT
A well-aimed kick lands in the middle of her rib cage, thrusting Decklyn down into a secluded work out room. She breathes sharply as her head bumps against a stack of barbells, hands scrambling to find purchase against the smooth wooden floor. The door clicks in front of her. Three older girls tower above, one of them holding a pair of dressmaking scissors in one calloused hand. The lovingly sharpened edges glitter like snow in the bleak sun.
"This your first year here, girlie?" the girl holding the scissors—the leader of the trio, she vaguely identifies—asks. She stoops down, black hair falling down the side of her face, and tilts Decklyn's chin up with the sharp point of the closed blades. She begins to back away, but the girl grabs her hair and forces her face close to her own leering one. "'ve never seen ya around before, and the weak ones are always easy to spot."
She had been prepared for this. She had steeled herself right when these three caught her wandering the halls of the Athletics Club Wing, lost and alone. There's a pecking order in places like this, where those at the top stand on those at the bottom. What more could you expect from a school jam-packed with murderers and assailants and terrorists? She had been resigned to her fate as a victim the moment she learned that she would be transferring here, but she can't help the bile rising in the back of her throat. She twitches, an action that is responded to with a hard slap to the cheek.
"You're harsh, Dana," one of the two girls hovering behind the leader giggles as she cries out, eyes as cruel as flint. The other girl seems more nervous, though. "We can't go too far this time. Remember what happened last time?" she pipes. Decklyn's eyes immediately flick toward her in a quiet plea for help, but the girl refuses to make eye contact. She opens her mouth to speak, but her fear has mounted to muteness, so she gapes like a fish in toxic water.
The leader flashes a condescending smile over her shoulder before turning her attention back to her trembling victim. "It's fine, it's fine. We're not gonna hurt ya, love. We're here to help." She twirls her scissors expertly in her hand before snapping them into position around a sizable lock of Decklyn's pale green hair, the blades threatening to snip it off with a simple flick of her hand. Decklyn bucks upright with a low-pitched whine, but the girl who had giggled at her plight earlier moves to force her arms behind her back. The scissors-wielding girl laughs in contempt and forces her head up with another sharp yank of her hair. "God, you're such a fucking spaz. We're just gonna give you a makeover, okay? Let's start with your hair. Can't have you lookin' like a walking mop all the time, can we? Hope you don't mind if I cut off an ear or two. Accidents happen, y'know."
PANIC METER: XXXXXX[X]XXX
Jonathan Buchanan
decky's boutta get an impromptu haircut it seems |
|
|
|
Post by Jonathan Buchanan on Jan 26, 2017 1:09:37 GMT
PE I: 10 PE II: 10 ACADEMICS: 10 HEALTH: 30 I'm just an ordinary upstanding guy! The steady flow of water filled the otherwise silent bathroom. The reason for the eerie silence could be pinned on Jonathan Buchanan otherwise known as Johnny. He glared at the mirror with an odd mixture of hatred and disappointment. Despite buying hair gel upon coming to Kessho Reform Academy it was made obvious how cheap the gel was. Jonathan's pompadour was ruined thanks to the faulty cosmetic. "Damn it, I'm gonna have to double down on hair gel today," Jonathan said with a groan. Jonathan made his way outside the bathroom after applying the cheap hair gel to his pompadour. It was then that he saw four girls walking down the hall. This wouldn't be a problem but three high-schoolers ushering along a twitchy preteen didn't exactly look 'normal'. Before Jonathan realized it he was stalking the suspicious group of girls. Jonathan was acting yet again on his inquisitive nature, but he didn't mind that much. If he saved the small child from a dangerous situation, then it was worth the trouble. He tried to turn the knob but found that the door wouldn't budge. Jonathan was sure that the girls entered the room, which only meant that his suspicions were right. Jonathan banged on the locked door with all his might. The banging brought an eerie silence over the group. Dana's hand stopped mere moments from clipping a lock of Decklyn's hair. The three girls exchanged uncertain glances with one another. Dana motioned for the other two girls to take Decklyn and hide her within the sparse classroom. Dana hid the scissors in her back pocket and moved to open the door for the group's unknown visitor. Dana thought the visitor was perhaps a faculty member looking to get something from the classroom, and they sounded determined to get in if the first ear piercing knock wasn't clear enough. Surprise was evident on her face when a six foot tall delinquent came barreling through the door the moment it was open. "Who the hell are you?" Dana asked with venom dripping in her voice. Jonathan glared back at Dana with a mixture of hatred and disgust. Jonathan ran his fingers against his pompadour in an attempt to calm his nerves. He knew very well punching this girl would result in him getting serious punishment, and if they managed to find the poor girl before him then their treatment could be even more cruel. "Me? I'm just your ordinary upstanding guy." The ire could not be kept out of Jonathan's voice, and his eyes narrowed even further. "Now, tell me where the girl is or else you'll be crawling around with two busted kneecaps."Notes: Sorry for the wait, but I didn't get back home till 11 last night. Johnny made his entrance and now its time to see if the girls will back down or not. or better yet will Decky actually reveal herself when she knows her captors will probably get her back tenfold after this. Also sorry if this seems like an odd place to leave it off at, if you have any qualms or ideas just PM me. |
|
|
|
Post by Decklyn O'Conner on Jan 27, 2017 3:43:29 GMT
Why her?
Is it because she's weak? But that makes no sense. In terms of raw physical power, she is strong, stronger than anyone she has ever met before. (In her old school, at least. It isn't as if she has met many people at this school yet.) She can. As a child, her parents made her twist the poker stick hanging over the fireplace into a pretzel shape during at-home social functions, just as a neat little party trick. As an adolescent, she can snap a desk over her knee and tackle her way through a brick wall—not that she has done much of either before. And her strength continues to grow to this day.
But, somehow, she is always the powerless one. There hadn't been much outright bullying in her old school, but no one wanted to be around her. She's not smart, not funny, not charismatic, not anything. Even her strength is more of an inconvenience than an asset. What's the point of being able to break things when she's so easily broken herself? What is it the scissors-wielding girl had said? The weak ones are always easy to spot. But how can she be weak when she's so strong?
How can she be the afraid one when, by all means, everyone should be afraid of her?
"Stop vibrating," the girl who had laughed at her misfortune a little while ago growl-whispers as she tugs Decklyn along. The more timid girl hurries behind, her expression now one of fear instead of discomfort. "I knew we shouldn't have done this," she starts, but the other girl hushes her quickly as they hustle into a connecting club room. The room they're in now is dark, with a polished hardwood floor and mirror-paneled wall. The mean girl whistles softly. "Looks like a dance room. Lucky for us, huh?"
Decklyn's trembling lips part to speak, but the mean girl claps her hand over her mouth. "Don't. Make. A. Sound," she grits out, manicured nails digging into her cheek. Her squeak of pain is muffled and small. Her senses had been so overcome with panic that she hadn't heard the banging on the door, loud though it was, so she doesn't understand what the situation is now. Is it better, or worse? Her hair (and ears, for that matter) isn't in danger of being chopped off anymore, at least. Her joints are still frozen and her nerves are still strained, but she doesn't feel like she's going to fall apart as much as she did before. Which, admittedly, isn't much of an improvement. But it's something.
Meanwhile, Dana stares Jonathan down, giving him a once-over with steely eyes. A slow smirk curls across her face at a sardonically slow pace. "Ordinary upstanding guy? Uh, news flash: we're at Kessho. There's no such thing as good Samaritans here." As if bored, she glances to the side and twirls a lock of jet-black hair around her finger. "Anyway, I dunno what you're talking about. It's just me here. Don't you know better than to threaten a girl?
She takes a defensive stance, one hand snaking to her back and closing around the handles of her scissors. She doesn't move yet, but she is coiled like a snake ready to spring. "I know your type: all bark and no bite. Wanna test me? Go ahead."
Jonathan Buchanan
decky has no hecking idea what's going on!! why is she like this. dana's squaring up she's probably gonna aim to cut his ridiculous hairdo off |
|
