n o r m a l • literate • a c c e p t i n g

[Rayen]

{{ Alright, thank you! I'm having major muse problems so my post will be a bit suck-ish e.e I'll write Alex's intro later up, if that's OK. }}

anya.kovalevski
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"Anita! You are late already!"
Anya grumbled an incomprehensible string of words - some not as nice as it would be expected from the young daughter of one of the richest men in Russia - as she skipped downstairs, avoiding a potentially disastrous collision with Katenka the cat by mere inches. She was still buttoning her shirt, not really paying that much attention to the task so the ice blue shirt looked longer on the right side when she presented herself at the breakfast table. She could swear she felt her stomach doing backflips as she took the cup of milk offered by the housekeeper, an old lady named Yekaterina, who was her adoptive granny of sorts. Her father wasn't there, as usual, but Anya couldn't help but feel disappointed as she stared at the empty seat in front of her. After the last day's talk, she had been hoping he would at least show up for the goodbye.

"Hurry up! The men from your new school should be arriving at any moment now!" Yekaterina rushed her in her heavy Russian accent, before exiting the room hastily and leaving Anya alone and feeling rather fearful all of a sudden.

Angry with herself, she shoved an entire loaf of bread into her own mouth and got on her feet abruptly. She blinked hard to erase the moistness in her ice blue eyes; ruining the mascara would only make things worse, she figured. She combed the tangles out of her straight, raven black hair with her fingers. For the time being, that would have to do. Yekaterina was right, it was almost nine-thirty and one thing she knew: wherever they came from, businessmen were never late.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang downstairs. Hearing Yekaterina rush to open the door, she sung her neon blue backpack over her shoulder and peered outside the window. A tall, thin man and a chubby one were standing at the door, both wearing slick business suits and shades, and it was less than a moment before she heard the old lady calling her: "Anita, they're here!"

Anya did not want to go. But, all the same, she had to. So she bent down to pick Katenka, who had sneaked to her side quietly, and stuffed her into the backpack. The she-cat stared at her with an offended look, but Anya ignored that. She put a finger to her lips, "Now, be quiet and stay still, girl. This usually works in movies..." She practically ran downstairs, not wanting to extend the goodbye for another minute. She sneaked a last glance at her house - her home - before turning to the men. The fat one yawned, seeming bored. "Now, I believe you know where you're being taken to. Your father was very kind, explaining it all to you... Saves us from the boring part."

Anya gathered just enough wits to form an answer. "What's the fun part, then?"

The tall man grinned. "Well... For safety reasons, we must... oh, I believe you know the drill. Let's get going."
Anya's knees buckled beneath her and she saw the ground speeding to meet her, but she never felt the impact.
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"Huh, looks like 560126 is awake, Seymour."

Anya jolted up to a sitting position, only to be pushed back down by a strong hand. She coughed, feeling her throat dry and trying to make sense of what had just happened. She found a curious face staring at her from above. God?, she thought for a split second. Am I dead? Do they assign numeric codes to the dead up here? Then the man spoke in a deep tone. "Isn't this Mr. Kovalevski's daughter?" His eyes showed interest, and she furrowed her brows at him. God would never ask such a silly question. And she would bet all her money's worth in how Heaven didn't have any rooms decorated solely in fuchsia, neither would she be lying down in a comfy bed not so unlike her own, back home."Who... are you? What the heck am I doing here? I was told I was going to a boarding school, is this--?"

"Hey, now, now. Calm down, please. I'm Doctor Gomez. We're just making some exams, nothing too serious, to see if your father's claims of having a supernatural daughter are true."

"Of course they are!" Anya cried, casting a fierce blue glare at the Doctor. "And they're not 'claims'! I can actually see--"
"... other's emotions by reading their colors, as some sort of aura, yes, yes, we know all of that," the other doctor cut her off for the second time. Anya gave him the evil eye, being promptly ignored. The guy looked like he was very used to dealing with upset supernatural teens. "And it appears that Mr. Kovalevski was right, indeed. You belong here in Barretta, it seems. Since your father was the first to contact us, your room is already decorated and your belongings are packed up here. You'll be safe, you'll fit in, ever need anything, just let us know." He glanced at Doctor Gomez, who nodded shortly at him. "Alright, so I trust you will stay here for a while, accommodate yourself with your new room and such. Oh, and we brought in your backpack," he pointed to the blue bag and raised his eyebrows, casting her a meaningful last glance before exiting the room with his colleague. Anya flinched, feeling as though she had been caught in the act, but somewhat thankful. She rushed to unzip the backpack and let Katenka out, feeling every single muscle stiff and sore from the sedative.

"Hello, girl, here we are. Barreta's School for the gifted, huh..." She stroked the cat's fur absently, casting a worried glance outside the window. Everything was so strange and unsettling, and suddenly she was on the verge of bursting into tears. "Seems I've got to build a new home from scratch..." she whispered into Katenka's ear.
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[Noel]

((What with my power being off and having to use various non-computer-ish devices to post, mine won't be up for another day or two, Sorry.))

[kitten;]

{{ Oh my gosh, sorry this is so long. ;-; You can skim it if you want—I tried cutting it down, but it just wouldn’t work. D: }}

. c h a r l o t t e . d o e .
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Charlotte smiled faintly as she made her way down the sidewalk, dressed in her favorite outfit--dark skinny jeans, black ballerina flats, and a black v-neck t-shirt. Her apron was hung over her shoulder, worn and dirty--she would have to go to the Laundromat to wash it later, along with the pile of dirty clothes in her hamper that was getting hard to ignore. She had taken the night shift at the grocery store again, and the money wasn't going to be enough. It wouldn't help if she took another shift--she needed as much money as possible, to pay for the school she would soon be going to, and an hour performance, on a good day, matched the pay of a nine-hour work shift. She would have to travel exceptionally far this time, to somewhere where none of the locals, or tourists, had heard of her. Lost in thought, Charlotte walked along the edge of the pavement, staying well away from both the pedestrians late for work and the cars zooming across the street with dull roars.

Stopping at a busy intersection, Charlotte looked around, checking for anybody looking her way. She spotted a few men, all dressed in suits, all looking her way. Her eyes narrowed, quickly jumping to concusions. Who were they working for? Her dad? Did they come to take her hostage...? It wasn't unlikely. Even though she had changed her name, her appearance hadn't changed a bit since she saw him last. The eighteen-year-old looked at all of them in turn, counting four in all. One looked just curious as to why she was giving him such a hostile glare, while the others had different emotions twisting across their burly faces. She narrowed their eyes, reading their expressions closely, watching every twitch of their facial muscles, every shift of their shoulder as she tried to figure out what they were thinking. The first one she had seen was already gone, and she surmised that seeing him was just a coincidence, while the others seemed to be still staring at her.

The other three looked happy, satisfied to be watching her. They all were tailing her, that much was obvious. Charlotte sighed, breaking gazes with all three of them—the throng of pedestrians was moving across the street now and she didn’t want to be left behind. The three were all closing in on her, and quickly—plus there was a conspicuous white van somewhere down the street, with darkly tinted windows, and looking closer, another man in a suit driving inside. What was happening?

She kept walking, picking up the pace, eventually drifting closer to the buildings, away from the three men and their van, and stopped for a moment, reeling forward from momentum. Something soft was working its way around her ankles. Charlotte, hoping it wasn't some sort of nocturnal animal, looked down, and sighed in relief. It was a jet-black cat, and a very fluffy one at that. She smiled, forgetting the three men and evading them for a moment. Surely they wouldn’t catch up with her this quickly, and the van wasn’t even moving at thirty miles per hour in the traffic. The cat seemed to be very friendly to complete strangers, as it had already walked up to her like they had been soul mates. Gazing at the cat, Charlotte said, in a slightly higher pitched voice, “What are you doing here? Don’t you have an owner?” Affection poured off of the cat’s fur. It was acting like it had known her for years, and yet, she had never seen it before. Unlike her sight, her memory wasn’t enhanced, so she wouldn’t know if she had seen a cat stalking her. They were a lot harder to spot in a crowd of people.

Charlotte glanced behind her, seeing the men about thirty feet away and closing in, pressing one finger to their ears and talking in hushed voices. They must have earpieces in. The van was somewhere in front of her, already parked. This was definitely some form of a kidnapping. Glancing down at the cat once more, she heard the loud purring rumbling from its throat, coming off in waves. It was already acting like she was its best friend, and she would feel bad leaving it behind. There was no collar on it, and reaching down, she couldn't feel a microchip embedded in its neck. Charlotte sighed, making her final decision. Maybe she could support the cat and herself, and besides, it already though they were best friends. It would probably follow her home, if she got home. Scooping the cat up in her arms, Charlotte was a little unsure as to how to hold it, so she settled for carrying it like a baby--supporting its back and cradling it in her arms. The cat's purring intensified. Was it this desperate to have any form of interaction that it latched onto any random human it could find? Taking one arm out from under the cat, she rubbed its forehead and continued walking, not daring to glance behind her. It would only slow her down.

As soon as she started walking, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Charlotte's heart skipped a beat and fear froze her legs as she turned around to face the men, for surely it was them. Gulping, her eyes moved from the cat, who had responded to the beat of her heart and its and raw fear and confusion now echoed across its face. She looked up at the three men, who now had erased all traces of any emotions from their faces and looked as professional as could be. One seemed to be looking at the cat with a slight look of disgust twitching on his face. Charlotte gulped again, determined to wipe the fear off of her features. If these guys were from her dad, she would just have to run. Run and never look back.

"Miss Doe, we are about to take you to Barretta's School for the Gifted. There will be no speaking or noise whatsoever until we reach the site and you have been secured."

Charlotte took a slight step backwards, and said, "What the heck? You think I can't make it to that school on my own?" She tried desperately to not let the fear show on her face. Surely, they could be lying. And besides, she could make it to the school on her own. She wouldn't need a 'ride' from these goons.

The one that had been staring at the cat looked up at her. "Is this your cat?"

He hadn't noticed her pick it off of the street? Was he too busy talking to his superiors? Shrugging, Charlotte said, "Might as well be."

The only one that hadn't spoken nodded. "Good. Your animal will be allowed with you."

Charlotte shook her head. "I can't go now. I still have a lot to do. Couldn't you at least cut me some slack and let me at least finish my laundry...?"

She felt a prick in the back of her neck and cursed vehemently in her mind as she remembered the man driving the white van. Charlotte didn't remember crumpling to the ground, her limp arms letting go of the cat. Charlotte closed her eyes and thought no more.

~

When she woke up, she was tied to a bed. An insistent meowing drummed in her mind, and Charlotte reluctantly opened her eyes. Near her, about ten feet away, was the cat. It was circling around in the cage. It obviously wasn’t used to being trapped and she could see the anxiousness etched across it’s animalistic features. Charlotte felt bad for the cat—all it had done was circle around her legs and now it was in a strange place with strange people. She tried to turn her body as she heard a voice, but the ropes stopped her. They cut into her skin and she was sure she would have rope burn sometime soon.

“Doc, Subject 520362 is awake.”

She could hear the confusion in the man’s voice as he said, “What? Already? Put her back down. And the cat, too. That meowing is getting on my nerves.”

Charlotte felt another needle prick her skin, and drifted off for the second time.

~

Waking up hopefully for what would be the last time, Charlotte let her eyes stay closed for a moment while getting her bearings. She wasn’t tied up anymore, and she was in a softer bed, one with a very fluffy pillow. Charlotte’s eyes almost snapped open as she realized she knew the feel of the pillow almost as well as the sheets. It was her pillow. Straining her ears, she could hear purring, and feel a small, warm presence by her side. The cat. It still had a very strange affection for her, even after all it had been through. Sighing, Charlotte finally opened her eyes, and almost shrunk back from the face she saw. He was dangerously close to her face--so close she could have bitten his nose if she had wanted to. He smirked as she opened her eyes, seeming pleased.

"Hm. So you're finally awake. Honestly, I had no idea you would wake up in the middle of our tests. We gave you a stronger dose after, so you've been out for quite a while...enough time for the cat to fall asleep and your belongings to be moved in. Which isn't a lot, I must say. How are you going to pay for all of this when you have almost no income--"

He was interrupted by a question from Charlotte, spoken quietly but loudly enough to cut him off mid-sentence. "Who are you?"

He suddenly stood up, remembering his place. "Ah. Me? I'm Doctor Parker. You're at Baretta's, although I'm sure the lackeys told that to you before...but, anyway. It's been confirmed that you are a mutant. Your sight--"

"Yes, I know the whole spiel. Enhanced sight, hearing, whatever." She wouldn't normally speak up like this, but she was fed up with this idiot.

He smirked, trying hard not to laugh. She could see the amusement flickering across his face, and chose not to say anything. Who did he think he was, being so smug like that? What was he keeping from her?

"What, you didn't know about the cat…? Turns out he was your father's. Kyle's been living in NYC for quite a while now, and the cat probably got lost or something, and he could recognize your scent. You probably smell a lot like your dad."

"...What?"

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{{ So...much...muse... D: -dies- }}

[tide.]

{ most of my muse is leaning towards a different r.p., but I'll make this work for now :3 Hopefully for now you guys can accept quality over quantity x3 }




Baby why'd you leave me?
Why'd you have to go?
I was countin' on forever,
But now I'll never know. . .

~ ~ ~

Echo lay on her bed, staring out the window, unsure of her future. She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling now. Why her? Echo lifted a hand to the top of her had and felt the soft fur of her black cat-ears. She was definitely one of the odder ones here. She blinked, her violet eyes momentarily pooling with tears. She furtively rolled off her bed and slipped over to the window. Echo leant out it, allowing the breeze to carress her hair and her ears. She flicked her tail for a moment pleasantly, then pushed herself away from the view of the world outside. She couldn't have everyone seeing her, especially how she was. She flattened her ears a little, then willed them away, as well as her tail. That was something she was still working on. She recalled when she was even just a bit younger when she couldn't make them go away. That had been hard to deal with.
Echo let the door open, and she wandered out into the hall to take a walk. She had been relatively bored for awhile, and now she was ready to go out and do something.
Echo walked down the hall slowly, the place silent as the grave. She wasn't used to this; normally there was at least a whisper conversation going on. She normally felt safe here, but right now she felt like someone was going to sneak up on her and attack her. Echo was more than a little tense now, so she braced herself a little and kept her pace quick and stiff. As soon as she was out of the hallway, she dashed down the stairwell and outside. The sun warmed her skin nicely, and the breath of fresh air wasn't that bad either. Echo prayed that her ears wouldn't end up popping out later since now she was out in public, but for now she had will over them.
She walked throughout town, looking around at different little shops and restaurants. To everyone around her, she was just the average student, nothing special. Fortunately, Echo could hide that not-so-normal side of her somewhat easily now. She walked into a coffee shop, ordered a capuchino, sat down with it, and proceeded to sip with it, deep in thought. Echo wondered about her past and future. She thought hard about her parents murder scene. What was she missing there? There had to be something that everyone had missed. Echo was no detective or cop, but she would be the one to solve her parents case. Would she ever solve it, though? I mean, no one had any motive. No one. And people don't just murder people randomly. But there had been a car bomb, then they'd been poisoned. What had happened in their lives that, perhaps, they'd never told her about? Echo took a tentative sip of her drink, then set it down, pleasant sunlight spilling into the room. The anger she had been feeling just moments ago seemed to melt as the drink slid down her throat and the looks of the pleasant weather outside warmed her. After only a few minutes in the coffee shop, Echo stood up abruptly and left the place. She walked out with a proud demeanor, and continued her journey down the street. A capricious little breeze crept up behind her and tickled her shoulders. Echo instinctively threw a hand over her head, and, true to her instinct, her ears popped out. Her tail curled around her front, hopefully keeping itself mostly unnoticed. She clutched her cappuchino tightly as she dashed into the closest alley she could find. Echo sank down to the ground and leant on the wall. Just a moment ago, she'd been feeling relatively on top of the world. Now she felt again how she'd been feeling in the coffee shop: angry and distressed. Echo sighed angrily and willed her ears and tail away again, now feeling a bit unsure of being out in public.

~ ~ ~

I can't even breathe,
It's like I'm lookin' from a distance
standin' in the background
Everybody's sayin'
He's a-comin' home now,

This can't be happenin' to me,
This is just a dream. . .

[Rhapsodii___x]

↑ → nicholas vance ← ↓

{ my stupid mouth.
has got me in trouble. }

Nicholas lay, strewn out across his white sheets with his hair messily falling over his eyes. Brr, Brr. He woke with a start at the sudden vibration in the pocket of his jeans. He sat up slowly, his icy blue eyes landing on the tiny screen that shone brightly through the denim. With a small grunt of dissatisfaction, he pried his fingers into his pocket and pulled out the phone. "Hello," he grumbled, his tone of voice sounding quite irritated. "Nick!" A shrill feminine voice practically screeched from the other line, and Nicholas visibly winced. "Nick, I'm so sorry. You told me to call you at seven, and now, it's almost time--" Nick cut her off, rubbing his temple in frustration. "What are you talking about, Victoria?" He groaned with genuine confusion. "You told me to call you and wake you up because you have to go to some sch--" Nick's eyes widened in realization, and he hastily jumped out of his comfortable bed, dropping his phone in the process. "Nick? Nick, can you hear me?" The worried voice called out from the small device, but Nicholas was already hurrying to his bathroom, unzipping his pants on the way there.

Nick stepped out of his bathroom, releasing the vapor that was trapped inside. He sighed and walked over to his phone, buttoning his black and white flannel shirt as he bent over to pick it up. Victoria's voice was no longer screaming through, but there were six missed calls flashing on the screen. He smirked and sat down on his bed, his blue eyes scanning his room. It wasn't the same as it was yesterday. Photos were taken down along with other things that possessed sentimental value. Where he was going, they probably weren't ever going to let him come back. He would miss his friends dearly, especially Victoria and her eccentric, sisterly personality. He shook his head vigorously, trying to clear it of all negative thoughts, but when the doorbell rang, the feeling of loss that sat in the pit of his stomach was now replaced by anxiety.

He slowly descended the stairs, and already, he could see two men standing outside the glass door. They were both dressed in black suits with sunglasses, and they looked as if they belonged in the White House. When he reached the door, his hand fell on the silver handle, but he refused to open it. One of the men tapped lightly on the glass after a few minutes. Nick had hesitated long enough; he slowly pulled open the door, his blue eyes examining the men that stood before him. "Nicholas Damien-Tucker Vance," one of the men, a short, yet bulky one, said. "We are here to transport you to Baretta's School for the Gifted. Talking or noise-making of any sort will not be tolerated during your trip. Come with us," Nick started, but stopped. "Hold on," he murmured. "I just have to go get my belongings, and then--" He stopped abruptly when he felt a small, stabbing pain in the nape of his neck. Everything went black from there.

Nick woke with a start and tried in vain to sit up. He was strapped against a bed, a rather comfortable bed actually...but that wasn't the point! He was trapped! Nick struggled against the ropes that held him down, and he could feel the material slicing through his skin. "Get me out of here!" He yelled, to no one in particular. He couldn't tell if anyone was in this room with him, and most likely, there wasn't. "Hey, calm down, Nicholas." A deep, monotone voice sounded above him, and Nick looked up to meet the eyes of a pale, scrawny looking man in a lab coat. He looked rather unprofessional with his spiky hair, split eyebrow, and multiple piercings all over his face. Nick didn't feel very safe. "Why am I tied up," he inquired, but his blue eyes fell on a package of blood that the doctor had in his hand. The blood was split into two colors: a sort of ice blue and crimson, but both colors refused to merge. They just swirled around each other; it was like watching a lava lamp. "Is that my blood?" Nick asked, his voice cracking in shock. "Yep," the doctor stated simply. "Amazing isn't it? I'm Dr. Hanson by the way." He said. "Right now, you are in the room you will be staying at in Baretta's."

Nick looked around, his blue eyes taking in the plain room. "You've got to be kidding me. What kind of room is this?" He said. Dr. Hanson just chuckled. "You'll be able to decorate it, but before I leave you here, could you tell me what your mutation is?" He inquired, and Nick winced in response. He was never used to being called a mutant. It felt odd. "Uh, I don't get hot or cold in certain temperatures, I learn skills quickly, and I can read minds and sense negative emotions." He stated. "Sounds about right," the doctor murmured, and Nick noticed that he wasn't held down by the ropes. "I'll leave you to your room then." He said and opened the door, allowing ten men in black suits to march into the room and drop Nick's possessions on the floor.

When they finally left, Nick sat up and walked over to the boxes. He pulled out a small picture of his mother, Jocelyn. A sad smile tugged at his lips, and he placed on a white dresser next to his bed. "I know you're watching me from Heaven, mom." He murmured, placing a soft kiss on the thin glass. Then he began unpacking the rest of his belongings.


{ i said too much.
AGAIN }

[shudder]

• Ashton Riccardi •

Ashton dug through his bed sheets and tossed them onto the floor to find the phone that wouldn't stop barking. It seemed like a good idea last night to set the alarm on his phone. The family cat, Linny, was always chewing up the cord and ruining his alarm clock. Crazy, yes, but that old cat couldn't resist chewing up cords. Ashton stepped off the bed and huffed in frustration once he realized the phone was under the bed. "Should've just replaced the Alarm Clock," Ashton rolled his eyes. Once the device was silent and his sheets were thrown back onto the bed, he walked into the bathroom. At least he looked awake. His oval pupils were the same, but his hair was a mess and he needed to change. Wishing he'd woken up a little earlier, Ashton skipped taking a shower. He could probably do that once he got to the school.

Ashton threw on some black jeans and a plaid shirt, buttoning it up as he walked around his room. No use in cleaning it; his mom would probably do that. His packed backpack was sitting in the corner. Linny magically appeared under his pillow. The cat's eyes followed Ashton around the room and his tail swayed effortlessly. "I don't think any cat stares as much as you do, Lin," Ashton grinned as he ran his hand through his hair and shoved his phone in his back pocket. The cat didn't move an inch. Not that Ashton expected him to. Along with staying fixated on an object for a long time, he also stayed put for a long time. Yeah, Linny was a weird cat, but at least they could blame his behavior on his old age and move on. No one knew what to attribute Ashton's behavior on. Guess that's why he was being sent away. When he heard his mom yelling his name from downstairs, he shooed the cat out of his room, grabbed his bag, and made his way down to the kitchen.

Ashton poured himself a glass of juice and sat down at the table. His mom couldn't have made the moment anymore awkward with her worried look. She placed a plate in front of him with toast and eggs and all he could do was stare at it. He wasn't hungry. And that opened the door for his parents to start their list of questions - all of which he could either mumble a no or yes to. Maybe they meant well, but Ashton was just annoyed and rather ready to get away.

Would he miss them, though? Ashton already thought about smuggling Linny with him to the school. The only thing that kept him from doing it was the fact that it wasn't really his cat. It was always his mom's.

Can't take your mom's cat.

Ashton picked up a piece of toast and peeled off the hard crust as his mom started talking to his dad about things he didn't really care about. That was about when the door bell rang. Dropping a piece of crust into the tiny pile he'd created, Ashton stood up and grabbed his things before pushing in his chair. "Well, bye mom, dad," he shrugged, grabbing his bag and walking towards the door.

"Ashton Riccardi," A pretty tall, serious looking man said. Before Ashton could respond to it like a question, the man cut him off. "I'm sure you've been informed as needed; we should go." The man paused and Ashton assumed that was his time to ask a question. Too bad he'd get interrupted once again by falling to the ground and blacking out.

╌ ╍ ╌ ╍ ╌ ╍ ╌ ╍ ╌ ╍ ╌ ╍

Ashton woke up on a bed and rubbed his eyes. He had to blink rapidly to adjust his eyes to the bright light and mumble a few words even he didn't understand. "He's awake," he heard a quiet voice say before really looking around the room. White, bare, and alot cleaner than he'd left his back home. The bag he faintly remembered packing was sitting in the corner along with an additional box of items. Who brought that along? His parents must've had a hand in that or something. Ashton scratched his head and turned towards the strange man who said something he didn't quite catch. "Er- What?" he cleared his throat and waited for an explanation for the situation that hadn't fully hit him yet. One man stepped forward and came a little too close to Ashton than he'd prepared for, causing him to scoot away slightly.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Miller," the doctor extended his hand towards Ashton, who lazily reached up to shake it. "Well, it's been confirmed that you're... not like the average human being." Dr. Miller even added in a small laugh at the end as he put on a big smile.

"I'm here, aren't I? Isn't that proof enough that I'm not like the average human being?" Ashton questioned, finally starting to wake up. This really didn't seem like much of a school. Not if doctors had to test you and the only way to get here was after you were knocked out. He still wanted to know how they'd done it, considering he didn't remember the man moving or anything. Ashton stood up and started to stretch out his arms.

"Anyway, you're things are here, 560131," Dr. Miller's grin didn't faulter as he gestured to the bag and the box in the corner. "Feel free to decorate any kind of way you'd like, and relax." The Dr. and everyone else in the room quietly walked out, leaving Ashton to wonder why they'd called him by a number. Did coming here wipe away his name now? As weird as the encounter with the doctors was, Ashton couldn't let it bother him. He was away from his old troubles and surrounded by people who were like him. Sort of. He kneeled down by the box and opened it up to see what was inside. If it was anything worth keeping. Since it wasn't that big, he figured he wouldn't have much to unpack and put away.

[[Meh... there it is.]]

[Rayen]

{{ Erk, sorry for the tiny post e.e Here's Alex as promised, anyway. }}

alexander.tsukehara
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“Ah, shoot,” Alex muttered, rolling out of the bed and hitting the floor in a less than gracious manner. The men in the room turned to him with alarmed expressions. Alex grumbled a curse. His levitation capacities seemed to be on the blink. Rubbing the drowsiness off his eyes, he stared at the blank room he was in, trying to remember where on Earth was he supposed to be and how had he gotten there.

One of the lab coat-wearing men offered him a hand. Alex took it and heaved himself up, but immediately felt his head spinning, forcing him to sit down on the bed. “You ought to be more careful, lad,” the doctor observed. “For the time being, your power is useless. Don’t worry; the sedative will wear off in a couple of hours. I’m Doctor Carter, and you are at Barreta’s. Your ability to levitate and use telekinesis to move objects around you--“

“And breakdancing,” Alex added, cutting the doctor off before even noticing he was talking aloud. Slightly embarrassed, he turned his gaze down. “Can’t forget breakdancing.”

Both doctors seemed amused. Perhaps they thought that the sleep drugs they had administrated on him before were making his brain fuzzy, Alex thought. He wondered whether it was true. As long as he could remember, he had always had a low tolerance for drugs. “Alright, then, levitation, telekinesis and breakdancing. Add that to his file, Jones.” Doc Carter grinned. Alex had the nagging sensation that he was laughing at him innerly. “Your personal belongings are all here, feel free to decorate your room the way you wish.” Already on his way out, the doctor turned back and cast him an amused glance. “And, as of now, I’d suggest you to refrain from breakdancing. Give it one day or two, it seems your ability is highly affected by the sedative we used.”

Alex rubbed the back of his neck as the door closed with a muffled click. “Great. Just great,” he grumbled, channeling his frustration towards the cardboard boxes. He tore them open one by one, and stared at the unlikely mix of Japanese comic books, crumpled clothing items and a number of assorted objects desolately. It would take a long, long time to make this room look like it was the room of Alexander Tsukehara. But it would be done.

First things first – he carefully unpacked the comic books and proceeded to place them in military order on the shelves. Back at home, in his ever-messy room, his manga collection was like the last safe haven for organization, and he intended to keep things that way. About one hour later, and with the moral support of his iPod’s rock music playlist, he placed the last pair of ripped jeans inside the cupboard and closed it with a relieved smile. “Mission accomplished.” He then picked his AC/DC t-shirt and headed towards the bathroom, figuring he was in need of a shower.

They say the human brain takes three days to adapt to a new situation, he mused as he exited the bathroom, water droplets dripping from his hair and into his face constantly. I wonder if in three day’s space I’ll see Barretta as a home.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -✂- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

[diamonds;;]

• r e i d - n i c k l u a s - h a r t •




ғʋℓℓ ∂ɛƨcяιρтισи::
{ 200 words minimum }



|| ιмρσятαит ιиғσ ||

иαмɛ::
reid nickluas hart
иιcκиαмɛƨ::
nickki only.
αɢɛ::
nineteen
∂αтɛ σғ вιятн::
fifth of september, nineteen nintey two
вιятнρℓαcɛ::
celebration, florida us of a
σccʋραтισи::
surf shop on the coast
яαcɛ::
american
ɢɛи∂ɛя::
male
∂ιƨσя∂ɛяƨ::
none
мʋтαтισи::
cancer. he was dignosed with cancer at the age of sixteen. it is located in his brain, yet what seemed to be a cancer cell was a lot more complex than it seemed. his is infact cabable of drawing the future. he has illusions in his mind that merge together and create a glimpse of the future, and it sometimes means that he can toy with one person's emotion every year just by touching their face. if reid touches someone's hand he can share the gimpse of the future with them. however, he has no memory of the future, so that means he has to draw it so he can see it again.
нιƨтσяʏ:: { 150 words minimum }

|| яɛℓαтισиƨнιρƨ ||

мσтнɛя'ƨ иαмɛ::
charolette hart
ғαтнɛя'ƨ иαмɛ::
unknown
ƨιвℓιиɢƨ::
a nine year old sister named farren
∂ιƨтαит κιи::
a cousin named ellie arabella hart
cяʋƨн::
echo jade tikera
вσʏғяιɛи∂ / ɢιяℓғяιɛи∂::
none- open;
ƨɛϰʋαℓ σяιɛитαтισи::
straight
cнιℓ∂яɛи::
none
вɛƨт ғяιɛи∂::
lolno
ғяιɛи∂ƨ::
none
ɛиɛмιɛƨ::
none
ωнσ ωσʋℓ∂ ʏσʋ ℓικɛ ʏσʋя cнαяαcтɛя тσ вɛ ғяιɛи∂ƨ ωιтн, ωнσ αяɛ иσт αℓяɛα∂ʏ::
anyone really
тнɛмɛ ƨσиɢ::


|| ιи ∂ɛρтн ||
ρɛяƨσиαℓιтʏ:: { 250 words minimum }
ℓικɛƨ:: { name a few }
∂ιƨℓικɛƨ:: { name a few }
ρяσƨ:: { what your character is good at }
ғℓαωƨ:: { what your character is bad at }
ρнσвιαƨ:: { at least one }
ғαvσʋяιтɛ cσℓσʋя::
ғαvσʋяιтɛ αиιмαℓ::
ғαvσʋяιтɛ ғσσ∂::
ғαvσʋяιтɛ тv ρяσɢяαммɛ::
ωнαт ∂σɛƨ ʏσʋя cнαяαcтɛя ∂σ ιи тнɛιя ƨραяɛ тιмɛ::
vαℓʋɛƨ::
∂σɛƨ αиʏтнιиɢ нαʋит ʏσʋя cнαяαcтɛя::
нσмɛ ℓιғɛ::
нσввιɛƨ::
ғαvσʋяιтɛ тʏρɛ σғ мʋƨιc::

|| ρɛяƨσиαℓ вɛℓσиɢιиɢƨ ||

нσмɛ::
яσσм::
ℓαρтσρ / cσмρʋтɛя::
ρнσиɛ::
cαя::
σтнɛя ρɛяƨσиαℓ вɛℓσиɢιиɢƨ::

|| αρρɛяɛиcɛ ||

hαιя cσℓσя::
dirty blonde
нαιя ƨтʏℓɛ::
above ^^
ɛʏɛ cσℓσя::
a hazel and a mixture of blue
sκιи cσℓσя::
tan
hɛιɢнт::
6'3''
wɛιɢнт::
160 llbs [ muscels! ]
cℓσтнιиɢ ƨтʏℓɛ:: { describe how they dress in over 35 words }
вσ∂ʏ мσ∂ιғιcαтισиƨ:: { tattoos, piercing, ect. just list them and link to them or describe them }
∂ιƨтιиcтιʌɛ ғɛαтʋяɛƨ:: { scars; describe how they got them and how old they were. birth marks; describe them }
ρƨʏcнιcαℓ ƨтяɛиɢтнƨ::
ρƨʏcнιcαℓ ωɛακиɛƨƨɛƨ::
нɛαℓтн::
ғαvσʋяιтɛ αccɛƨƨσяʏ::
ғαvσʋяιтɛ ριɛcɛ σғ cℓσтнιиɢ::

|| ρɛт ιиғσямαтισи ||

ρɛт иαмɛ:: { delete this whole part of the form if your characters does not have one }
ƨнσω/κɛииɛℓ иαмɛ:: { show name is for a horse, so: My horse is called King, his show name is King of Thrones. Examples: Oscar Time, Golden Tide. kennel name is for a dog. Examples: Spritly Pip, Oliver with attitude, Black Aqua. any other pet, just delete this }
ρɛт αɢɛ::
ρɛт ɢɛи∂ɛя::
ρɛт вяɛɛ∂:: { what speices is your character's pet? Dog, cat or horse? Then what breed is it? Thoroughbred? Labrodor? Maine Coon? }
ƨιвℓιиɢƨ::
∂ιɛт::
ρɛяƨσиαℓιтʏ:: { minimum of 80 words }
нιƨтσяʏ:: { minimum of 60 words }
ℓικɛƨ::
∂ιƨℓικɛƨ::
ғℓαωƨ::
ρяσƨ::

[versicolor]

[ [ тaylor ; naтнan ; вecĸeтт ] ]

►► I dream the cars outside my window were actually waves
Slipped in over the sill and carried me away
Swept me out to sea and that's where I stayed
Learned to live among the fish and seaweed maids

* *~-♪♫-~*~-♪♫-~*~-♪♫-~*~-♪♫-~*~-♪♫-~*~-♪♫-~*~-♪♫-~* *

Taylor stood at the edge of a somewhat large pool, his striped blue and white towel wrapped around his body. He stared down into the water absentmindedly, not having much else to do. He had just finished competing on of his school swim team's meets, which he never looked forward to waking up for. He was by far the best on his team, although his mutation did give him a bit of an advantage. Although it was a cold autumn morning, the indoor pool was incredibly warm, and he didn't have any means to expose himself to the cold weather any time soon. He had slipped a pair of plaid cargo shorts and beaten up flip flops on after the swim meet had ended, and he had completely forgotten to bring a shirt along with him. Taylor didn't have much time to think before a pair of figures dressed in professional, neat suits showed up at the entrance of the pool, dark sunglasses hiding their eyes. Taylor thought they looked rather odd and out of place, but then again, he had always been odd himself too. As they spoke into their well concealed ear pieces with hushed voices, he noticed they seemed to be walking his way. What business they had with him, he had no clue, but he didn't particularly pay much attention about the two suspicious looking men walking toward him. They looked to be friendly enough. Although, Taylor almost always thought practically everyone seemed friendly enough at a first glance. He turned away from the pool's watery surface, wanting to at least acknowledge the two men, wonder what they could possibly want from him.

The pair of men reached Taylor in a matter of seconds, the taller one addressing him rather formally. "Taylor Beckett. As you probably already know, we'll be taking you to Baretta's School for the Gifted. Please don't talk, chatter, whisper, hum or make any noises of the sort until we reach the site." Right. That was today. Taylor had totally forgotten that he would be sent away to that school for freaks like him this morning; the subject had totally blanked out of his mind. A sheepish smile appeared on Taylor's face.

"Oh, that was today, wasn't it? I totally forgot. Would you mind driving me home first to grab a shirt at least?" Taylor inquired, his voice uncertain and guilty sounding. Those men, although just a few inches taller than him, were rather intimidated him. His parents had decided to stay home from the event, but his little brother Casey watched from a distance, a puzzled look on his face. Suddenly, he seemed to realize what was going on, and a rather sad look was plastered on Casey's face. Taylor averted his eyes away from his brother quickly, not wanting his brother's sadness to get to him.

"No, that would be too impractical. We have to secure you at the site as soon as possible. I assure you, there will plenty of time to do that once you get to Baretta's School." The shorter, and somehow more scary looking man said, his voice even and unemotional. Taylor shrugged nonchalantly before replying.

"Alright then, let's go then." Taylor responded, his voice rather calm. He actually wanted to get away from this place, away from his family for the most part. Well except for his brother, but that couldn't be helped. He quickly waved at his younger brother, before his vision blurred and blacked out within seconds.

* *~-♪♫-~*~-♪♫-~*~-♪♫-~*~-♪♫-~*~-♪♫-~*~-♪♫-~*~-♪♫-~* *

Taylor awoke in some strange, new room. It was empty for the most part, and everything was clean and completely white. He lazily stretched out his arms, noticing that he happened to be lying on a rather comfortable bed. He didn't think much of this place; he figured it would be explained later. As if on cue, he heard a voice.

"Subject 591370 is awake, Doctor."

Suddenly, the door opened, and a woman dressed in a pristine white lab coat entered the room. There was a warm and friendly smile on her face as she entered the room. Taylor was more focused on the small boxes in the corner of the room that he had managed to miss when he first woke up though. He wondered how they got there; he didn't even remember packing up his stuff. In large letters, "Taylor" was scrawled across the top of all of the cardboard boxes. His attention snapped back to the woman in the lab coat as she cleared her voice.

"Hello Subject 591370, my name is Dr. Lewis We just ran a few min--"

"Uhh, my name's Taylor. Not 591370 or whatever." Taylor interrupted carelessly. He was rather confused as to why she was addressing him by a number, and not his name.

"That is simply your identification number. Now as I was say--"

"Ohhh, I get it now." Taylor interjected once more. This time, the woman seemed to be getting a bit irritated. A sheepish grin appeared on Taylor's face, and he made sure to keep his mouth shut this time.

"If you would let me continue, we ran a few minor tests to confirm that you are in face a mutant, and it seems that you are."

"Oh, I already knew that. My parents made that very clear to me when they found out." Taylor said in a somewhat matter of factly tone.

"So, I assume you are aware that you can swim at an accelerated pace, hold your breath underwater for extended periods of time, and have iridescent fish scales implanted in your skin." The woman asked quickly.

"Yeah, pretty much." Taylor was equally as quick to respond, his voice pretty laid back.

"Alright, well we've brought all of your belongings into the room; feel free to decorate your room any way you please. Your goat is already being kept in the barn on campus," Dr. Lewis paused, and then added. "And please, put a shirt on before you even think of leaving." With that, she left the room. Taylor stood up as soon as she left, ambling toward the boxes in the corner of the room. He opened one of the smaller ones, hoping it would contain his clothes. Guessing right, he pulled a light grey Forever The Sickest Kids shirt out of the box and slipped it on. He proceeded in unpacking all of the boxes, and trying to figure out where everything went according how his room used to be at home. After a good amount of time passed he managed to somewhat recreate his room, although wasn't entirely motivated to get it exactly right. Taylor jumped back onto the bed, folding his arms behind his head. He sighed contently; he was finally away from his unpleasant parents.

"I think I could get used to this place."

* *~-♪♫-~*~-♪♫-~*~-♪♫-~*~-♪♫-~*~-♪♫-~*~-♪♫-~*~-♪♫-~* *

►► Friends with every creature as I cross the ocean floor
Sipping tea with tuna fish and whales just off the shore
Oh I felt so at ease
Slipping in and out of the ocean breeze

[ιdєитιтy]

ϰ e s s i e ϰ l i l a h ϰ c y r u s ϰ

Why don't you be the  a r t i s t  and make me out of clay?
Why don't you be the  w r i t e r  and decide the words I say?

The windows were speckled with the left over morning dew that shimmered like diamonds in the shining sun of a new day. A good day, Essie hoped, her eyes fluttering open and her pupils dilating in the new light. She'd been awake for about an hour, just laying under her soft blankets and letting the sun's rays warm up any exposed flesh and feathers. She was very pleased where she had been, just relaxing and listening to her own thoughts, but she had to get up and continue with the daily routine she had grown accustomed to after the years she had been in this school. It was a bit of a downer, having to go off and succumb to the educational areas within this establishment, but Essie stayed happy, as being a negative soul within these walls would not benefit her in any form. It'd just make her day go by slower.
So, on the more motivational note, Essie rose to a siting position, her wings stretching out in a ruffled feather mess that almost resembled her bed-head hair with the smell of lavender shampoo drifting off of it. And that's how she sat for a few more minutes, delaying her much needed proper start to the day. 
Then, with a long inhale of oxygen, Essie swung her long and bare legs over the side of the bed, the bottom of her feet colliding with the cold temperature of the wood floor that outstretched as the base of her bedroom. The shocking blast of a colder feel shook the last of the sleep from Essie, who gave an involuntary shiver, goose bumps showing up on her arms and legs. It had been a much needed jolt. 
Finally lifting herself to a standing position, Essie stretched out her arms with her hands clenched into small fists. Her limbs seemed tight and required a good stretch before they were put to work along with her givers of flight.
Lowering her now loose arms that seemed as relaxed as she was, Essie looked around her room with pursed lips. She couldn't decide whether or not 
"Budabumpbump." She hummed quietly to herself while she sifted through the average collection of ripped shirts in her drawer. Essie had decided that today, unlike most other days, she was not going to restrict her wings. She didn't know why, but Essie had always felt self conscious about them, even in a school where mutants were never criticized because of how they look or what their mutation is. Mutants. No matter how many times one could say the word, it would always hold an unwelcome edge to it in Essie's mind. It wasn't a bad word, it was just how some classified everyone similar to Essie herself.
Shaking off her thoughts that stuck out more on the negative side, Essie pulled out a couple of pieces of clothing that he fancied for today's ensemble. Brown was never a favourited colour of Essie's, and to be honest, she probably hated deep inside her, but today's outfit was two thirds the disliked colour.
With a mental shrug that signified the lack of care on the subject, Essie turned from the closet and dresser so that she was face the bed. Half of it was still pretty made, while the other side showed the obvious signs that someone had slept there. She had always been told that, even with the large feathered wings, Essie had never moved much in her sleep, so making her bed every morning was usually pretty easy. Just like today. 

Wake up. Get dressed. Make bed. Get all gussied up for the day. 

All routine. She could probably preform the morning line up in her sleep, if not for her been incapable of any form of sleep walk. Heck, Essie barely dreamed during the night. She just closed her eyes, let her body and mind succumb to the sleep gnawing on her joints and let herself drift off into darkness... Then wam. Morning. And that was it. Essie had always been disappointed she never got to share any dreams with her mother because her imagination ceased to wander when the sun visited the other side of the earth. But alas, she got used to it, much like she had for this school, this life. She adapted easily, I guess you could say.

Now that it was nearly 9:30, Essie just ditched the hair brush that she had been guiding through her black hair that had long sense been put up into it's ponytail she had done a while back when she was deep into her thoughts, and reached for her  that she always left in the one spot she would remember it- the side table. She figured the majority of people set things of minor or major importance on the night stands before the settled down for a good nights sleep, even if it wasn't that special place that they would remember putting something on like it was for Essie. Just about anyone that knew her knew she probably had some form of selective memory like she did hearing, as she only remembered certain events or certain things set in particular areas. Either way, she didn't ever want to loose this bracelet. And looky here, it matches my outfit. She grinned at the thought as she held up her wrist that now showed off two leather straps tied to a thin golden bird. It didn't hold much sentimental value to her, besides that she loved it. 
Putting her arm back down to her side, Essie lifted her head a bit to give herself a more confident look about her, she turned and exited her room, probably looking careful about her exit. She had encountered more collisions between her wings and the frame of that door then she had birthdays, and she was determined to break the train of unfortunate bad-door-luck. 
Looking at all the other students pick their way through the growing crowd to get to where ever they desired to be, Essie began to wonder if any new teenagers would arrive and join this small mutant population. She vaguely remembered coming here, the memory now so distant she could only remember that she came in peace, like they had wanted. Then again, her memory wasn't entirely in top notch shape.. The sound of her door closing behind her with a click and thud brought Essie back into reality, and just in time to avoid getting trampled by one of the groups here. 
Just another day, obviously. Essie couldn't wait for when everyone wandered on back to their rooms in the coming evening, as that is when Essie attempts to do her snooping and inspecting. She gets caught a lot by wandering scientists and other assorted staff members, no matter how sneaky she may e.
So, Essie decided she would keep an eye out for any new kids or items out of place while she wandered to her desired destination.

Because I'd rather  p r e t e n d
I'll still be there at the  e n d

[My apologies about it rambling on, I'm half asleep and I knew I had to get my introductory post up tonight, so here it is.
And I apologize for any spelling errors or random words. I try my best to check these over, but I do these posts up on my iPod, and I have no idea how to get rid of auto-correct.]