Deep Down [OPEN]

[dorian armel smith.]

The lake was perhaps one of the few places in or around St. Michaels that Dorian liked. Although he wasn't one for standing around and contemplating things, he did come here sometimes to watch the rippling of the water and wonder what might lie beneath it.

It reminded him of a movie that he saw once, in which an ugly monster had risen from the depths of a lake outside a small town and dragged a teenage girl and her friends down to a watery grave. Dorian liked to imagine that the same thing would happen to him, but he had come out here to watch the waters many times, and not once had a lake monster revealed itself. He wondered if perhaps it was too scared of him.

The teenager kicked an empty can that lay on the gravely sands of the beach. He was bored. Maybe there was a small animal or a freshman somewhere nearby that he could torture to pass the time. Actually, he would settle for being tortured himself. He had always considered boredom to be his worst nemesis, though it had, over the years, been the source of some of his greatest ideas.

Now he stood looking over the waters and waiting for one of them to hit.

Nothing came.

He screamed, and grabbed an empty glass bottle that was lying in the sand. He smashed it on a nearby rock with frightening enthusiasm, and then leaned back and launched the top half of the bottle at the water. It splashed in and sank instantly.
"CHOKE ON IT!!" He roared at the lake, or perhaps at the monster, or perhaps some imagined spectre of boredom itself, "FUCKING CHOKE!!"
Then he paused,
Then he laughed,
Then he admired the trickling of blood that was running down his right hand, where the skin had split on the glass.

[angelique marie tellings.]

I shouldn’t be here, Angelique thought as she picked her way along the lake beach. Oh, I really, really shouldn’t be here…

Technically, students weren’t supposed to leave the Academy. And Angelique never broke the rules. Never. But here she was, all the way down in St. Michaels, on the lake.

She hadn’t known why she’d run all the way down the highway—although that had been fun, just that open expanse with no end in sight if you were in the right part, the wind in her face, nothing to do but run and nothing to hear but her own heartbeat—or why she’d come down here. She didn’t know why she hadn’t already started to go back. But here she was, anyway. She might as well stay here.

The view was really good, Angelique thought. She should have brought her sketchbook. She would have brought her sketchbook if she’d been expecting anything more than the usual morning room. But she hadn’t, so she didn’t, and—well.

So Angelique just kept walking along, head down, telling herself she’d go back after so many more steps. She was at about ten, when, ahead of her and around an outcropping of rocks, there was a smashing sound and a boy’s voice yelled an obscenity at the lake.

Out of curiosity, Angelique peeked around the rocks. There was a boy there, maybe her age. She bit her lip and edged away, but her sneaker crushed a stray shard of glass, making a crunching noise. It wouldn’t have ordinarily been that loud, but it was mostly quiet on the beach. She froze.

[dorian armel smith.]

Dorian's head snapped in the direction of the sound which broke the silence. He didn't look surprised or embarrassed that somebody had caught him in his outburst. He didn't look particularly angry either (no more than usual, anyway), but he narrowed his eyes at the empty space where he was sure he heard the crunching of glass.

Taking slow and silent steps, he walked over to the outcropping of rocks that he was sure obscured his vision of whomever happened to be behind it. Without a fuss, he rounded the edge of it, and saw several things. Stones on the ground, a few scraps of litter (namely a page of a newspaper which had snagged on the edge of the outcropping), a girl, and, further away, a wandering crow. While the girl was probably not the most interesting one of these things, it was most likely that she was what made the noise, and so it was she that warranted his attention.

He looked through her with black eyes.
"Are you spying on me?" He inquired, not threateningly. He couldn't see any other reason for someone to be out on such a chilly and miserable morning.

The boy was unarmed, at least now that he had thrown away his smashed bottle, but stood dressed in black as he was, and with the trickle of blood that still ran down his hand, it was fair to say that he appeared more than a little ominous.

[angelique marie tellings.]

Angelique took an involuntary step backwards as the boy rounded the rocks. He was dressed all in black, and he seemed to be looking right through her. He was, she thought, sort of scary. But he probably wasn’t faster than her. At least she hoped so. He asked if she was spying on him; it took her a moment to process the question. Spying? Why on earth would she be spying?. Angelique had never, ever seen this boy before in her life.

She took a step backwards, hearing another crunch. Gods, someone must be using this place as a trash can or something.

“S-spying?” she whispered. “N-no…”

There was something red on his hand. Oh. Blood. He must have hurt himself smashing whatever he’d smashed. Angelique wanted to ask if he was okay, but she also didn’t want to push his luck. For perhaps the hundredth time she wished she had some kind of useful power, like telepathy or healing or something, instead of a hallucinogenic voice. She swallowed.

“Are you okay?”

NOTES: bleh short post ><

[dorian armel smith.]

If she wasn't lying, the girl wasn't spying on him. What a shame. That would have made her much more interesting. Instead, she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, caught quite literally between a rock and a hard place. Still, looking at her, he didn't recognise her. That was strange, in itself. He saw everyone in the town of St Michaels at one point or other, and he didn't remember seeing her.

She whispered something about him being okay, and he didn't quite understand what she meant until he realised she was looking at the blood on his hand. He ignored the question and took a step forward, equalising the gap she had created between them.

"Why are you whispering?" He whispered. When he whispered it wasn't the soft sound it was meant to be, it sounded chilling.
His head twisted and looked about even as the rest of his body stayed still. He saw that they were the only two people on the lakeside.
"There's no-one here to hear you." He noted, his volume back to normal. "Except me." He looked at her again with empty black eyes. "And I already know you're here." He added, his voice edged with a dark tone.

[angelique marie tellings.]

Angelique backed up another step. This boy was scaring her. And his voice was almost frightening. She wanted to run away, but—she felt the rock bump against her back. Oh, crud. She’d backed herself into a corner now. There was enough space to run past the boy—more than enough, actually. It was just that he was so…what was the word? Intimidating. That was it. He was intimidating.

Then he asked why she was whispering, and Angelique went blank. She didn’t think she should tell him about her power—how would that sound, anyway? Oh, I’m from up at the academy and my voice makes you hallucinate. Because that would go down extremely well, of course. She bit her lip, trying to think of a satisfactory answer. Finally, what came out was the lame,

“I—I just whisper all the time. It’s habit, I guess?”

[dorian armel smith.]

"A habit?" The boy echoed her words, finally breaking off eye contact. He stepped to the side, and carried on walking that way, so that his path formed a rough circle around her and the rock. He resembled a predator circling his prey.
"See, that's funny." He went on, as he walked. "Because I've got a habit of SHOUTING!!!" He roared the last word at the top of his voice. The crow that was milling about the lakeside took off in alarm at the noise. He paused in the silence that followed, and the smile that crept onto his face was the smile of a child pulling the wings off an insect.

He began to walk again, after he had given some time for the word to be swallowed by silence.
"Where are your friends?" He queried, "Why aren't you with them? That's where the rest of the world is," He added, matter-of-factly, "They're with their friends. It's just me out here. Me and the lake, and you."

Unless she didn't have any friends. That made her almost as sad as he was. Perhaps that's why she'd come to the lake. Perhaps she was looking for friends. She was unlikely to find one here, though. Dorian wasn't in the habit of befriending the people he met. He would usually scare them off pretty quickly. He could count on it. In fact, sometimes he made a sport of it. He wondered idly how long it would take this one to run away. She didn't seem brave, but maybe that was just the effect of the whispering.

[angelique marie tellings.]

Angelique twisted, trying to keep the boy in sight as he circled her. She clenched her fingers together, trying to calm herself down. The boy shouted, and, startled, she tripped over her own feet and almost fell, letting out a yelp. She straightened up and wiped her hands on her jeans.

“You didn’t need to do that,” she said quietly. The boy asked where her friends were. She blinked. She didn’t—well, maybe one, but did Dewey really count? They’d only spoken once and that was because she’d crashed into him. “My friends are…back up at the Academy.” She winced as soon as the words were out of her mouth; she didn’t think she was supposed to tell people she was from the Academy. But the damage was done. Maybe he hadn’t noticed.

“I didn’t see anyone else,” Angelique continued, looking down at the sand. “C-can we start over here? I’m Angelique.”

[dorian armel smith.]

At the girl's mention of 'The Academy', Dorian stopped walking and stood still, on the spot. His eyes didn't meet hers for a moment, and no notable expression appeared to pass over his face. But his thoughts were racing in his head.

There was only one 'Academy' in or around St Michaels, and that was the mysterious building at the top of the hill, Power's Academy. Supposedly just another school, or a school for those that were academically gifted, depending on whom you asked. That was something that Dorian didn't buy for a second. No council, local or otherwise, had the funds to build and maintain two separate schools so close to one another for the sake of it. He had spent many hours of his days wondering the mystery that was the Academy, and had decided that it had been privately funded by someone some time ago. Why? That he didn't know. Yet.

He had yet to share the pleasure of meeting a person that actually came from the Academy until now. The teachers there seemed to lock the kids up like it was a prison, not even letting them out to visit St Michaels, as he understood it. That explained why he saw so few of them, and why he didn't recognise the whispering girl.

In an instant she had transformed to some skitzy little girl on a lakeside that couldn't interest him less, to something quite unique; an opportunity that might not arise again. There was a certain way that he had to handle such a situation, if anything was to come of it.

The girl introduced herself politely enough, requesting to 'start over'. Perfect.
Dorian nodded softly. He was an expert in these situations. He knew when to do what, and it was too soon to smile. It was a nod moment. Then hesitate. Count one second. Reply.
"Jack." He lied in reply. "Jack Smith."
If she were to ask just about anyone in the town about a Dorian Smith, they would tell her straight off the bat that he was troubled, and certainly not to be trusted. He wouldn't be doing with that.
He sighed listlessly, and bit on his tongue in his mouth, as was his habit, before speaking up again.
"Listen," He said, shifting his posture a little so that he wasn't as hunched, "I'm sorry if I come off a little... irate. It's just... my 'friends', so called, kind of ditched me. We were supposed to meet here and hang out, but they've left already."
He backed off a few paces, giving her more room, and turned his back on her briefly, a sign of letting one's guard down. He looked out to the lake and shrugged to himself.
"Guess I should have predicted that... but I didn't mean to take it out on you, a complete stranger."
He laughed a little at himself, and half-turned back around to face her.
"Man, I must look like a complete A-hole right now..." He said. Self-deprecation. Oldest trick in the book. Luckily, Dorian knew he had the acting skills to pull it off. He had done so more times than he could count.

[angelique marie tellings.]

Angelique shrugged as the boy told his name—Jack—and the reason he was down at the beach—his friends had ditched him. “I-it’s okay,” she whispered, absentmindedly drawing the toe of her sneaker in circles on the sand. “I’m sorry your friends ditched you. And, uh—”

Well, truth be told, he had been a bit—okay, a lot—of a jerk, scaring her like that. But it wasn’t his fault his friends had run out on him like that. She wondered briefly why anyone would want to hang out at this corner of the lake, which was pretty…well, “unkempt” was the kindest word for it, but pushed it aside. To each their own, wasn’t it? And it wasn’t like some people wouldn’t like the solitude this part of the beach provided.

“It’s okay,” Angelique finished lamely. She stopped drawing circles in the sand with her foot and just stood there, awkwardly. Was he expecting her to say something else? He probably was; normal people had conversations all the time. Normal people meaning people who didn’t have to make sure their voices were below a certain decibel level for the safety and general well-being of everyone around them.

“So…” she continued quietly. “Um…uh…what’s St. Michael’s like?”

{OOC: sorry this took so long, yet another friggin’ virus ><}

[dorian armel smith.]

Forgiveness. Good. He could salvage this conversation from here. And she wanted to talk about St. Michaels? He could work with that.
He shrugged in the manner of unimpressed teenagers. This was a very distinct shrug, and took years (teenage years) to master. Dorian pulled it off admirably.
"Boring." He confessed, "The same as any small town in the middle of nowhere. The adults all go around doing their boring jobs, working behind desks and in shops, and the kids all want to grow up and be like the adults. The only time you can really feel like there's a chance of escaping the place is when you're out here. It's why we were supposed to hang out here, by the lake. It could be anywhere, really. You can forget that you're stuck in the town of St. Michaels from out here."

He took in a breath of fresh air, as if to demonstrate his point.
"But I guess you know how it is..." He continued, and moved over to the rock formation, managing to clamber up onto it and sit, somewhat uncomfortably, on top. He pretended that a thought occurred to him and frowned as if perplexed. "Or maybe you don't." He asked, "You're from the Academy, right? You don't see many of the Academy kids around town. What, do they keep you under lock and key up there on that hill?" He asked, smiling to show that he was joking about the subject.

Taking the subject the girl offered and turning it around to face the topic that he was concerned with. Child's play. The trick was not to come off as too interested. It would be a balancing act. Luckily, Dorian had grown up in the circus.

((OOC: No worries. Have you considered getting some sort of virus-protection software installed though, if it happens a lot?))

[angelique marie tellings.]

“It’s not really that bad?” Angelique asked, looking up as the boy scrambled onto the rock. He still looked intimidating, even though he’d apologized and was acting much friendlier now. She hooked the toe of her sneaker into a crack in the rock and scrambled up on top, next to him. It was much less awkward this way. Well, alright, it was still kind of awkward, but not as awkward as it had been a few minutes ago.

She shook her head when he said he must know how it was. “’m not from a small town,” she started to say, but obviously that wasn’t what he’d meant. The Academy. Oh, dear. How was she supposed to say anything about the Academy without giving away a lot? She wasn’t exactly a good liar or anything.

“Uh…they like us to focus on our schoolwork…and, um, stuff…”

{OOC: this is so late and bleh >< I’m sorry, Script Frenzy ate my soul. And yeah, we just got the software update.}

[dorian armel smith.]

"Well yeah," Dorian replied with a shrug, and looked briefly off to the lake in thought. "But how much of a social life can you have cooped up in the same building twenty-four seven? Don't you go stir-crazy in there? Then again, I guess that's why you're out here now."

A cool breeze moved over them. It was refreshing, but Dorian was completely focused on the conversation he was having. He decided that they key was to make it seem like he was just taking an interest in her. And he was, technically. He wanted to know what exactly was so special about that school. And if special kids went there, then that meant that she was one of them. He suppressed the urge to look back at her where she sat beside him, because he knew he wouldn't be able to look like he didn't want to dissect her at that moment. He took a second or two to get this notion under control, and when he was sure that his cover was flawless, he looked back at her with the same harmless smile that he had generated before.

"But from rumours I hear about the place, the kids that go to the Academy are kind of interesting, so maybe it's not such a boring place after all?"
He leaned back on his hands, as if relaxing a little. The drip of blood that ran down his hand stained the rock.
"I don't know if I could stand living with a building full of other kids, even if I did get a special education." Slipping in the concept of being special, "How do you cope?"

[angelique marie tellings.]

Angelique picked at her cuticles as Jack talked on. It was a lot better like this, him talking and her keeping her mouth shut. She didn’t like talking. She realized she was in the minority on this and that that was the reason why she had no friends who weren’t actually related to her, but she really, really didn’t like to talk.

She pulled a hangnail, hissing between her teeth when it came free. She flicked it away and started working on her other hangnail when she realized Jack had asked her a question. Several questions, in fact. Which meant talking.

“Um,” she said. “I, uh, I guess they’re interesting. I don’t…talk to people much. Um. At all.”

He asked another question, how he didn’t think he’d be able to cope with living with a bunch of other kids even if they were getting a special education—“special education”, he had no idea; Angelique reflexively touched her throat—and how did she do it.

“Well, my roommate’s real nice, and…yeah.”

[dorian armel smith.]

Dorian continued to look at his company expectantly, waiting for her to elaborate. But nothing else came.
"Oh." He said, trying to sound like he was trying not to sound disappointed with the brief explanation. "Good. Yeah, I guess that helps."
At many instances in his life had Dorian wished he had the ability to hear the thoughts from other people. If he was psychic, and could read this girl's thoughts, he would know if she had any idea of his true motive. There was no reason that she should. He was being perfectly convincing, wasn't he? But still, he couldn't be sure.

The intensity of the desire to know the great secret that was Power's Academy was burning away at his insides. He didn't feel like he would ever want anything more than he wanted this, right now. And yet his smile was sinless, and his tone was light and breezy, even as his mind raced like some sinister machine.

A large bird, possibly some kind of seagull, flapped over and landed on the rocks a few feet in front of the outcropping that they sat on. Dorian watched it for a little while, letting the silence between them grow. It was awkward, this silence, but, since he had just spoken, he was faultless in its creation. He could play silence like a musical instrument, he reflected. Sometimes saying nothing at all was many times more effective than words he could pull out of his mind.
"So..." He said, after the bird waddled a little before taking off over the lake, "Whispering. That's an... unusual habit. If you don't mind me saying."
He could have tagged a question on the end, but he knew not to. He had asked enough questions. He didn't want to seem like he was pressuring for answers. The moment the girl thought that was the case, Dorian was certain she would clam up entirely. And then she would be useless to him.