InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Stop poking me!"

Teritus "Wesley Drakon" Venizelos (tattooed_skin) wrote in halcyon_halls,
@ 2008-08-03 04:56:00

Entry tags:

caibre, wes

Week Fifteen: Tuesday
Who: Caibre, and Wes
When: Tuesday after classes
Where: Wes' office
What: Someone needs to be brought down a peg, or two.

It had caught him on a bad day, really, that had been the only reason he had spoken up to begin with. Any other time, he likely would have shook his head, felt a brief sympathy for the Instructor, and moved on to deal with his own shit. But, thanks to a shitty night a the shop, the day before he discovered the mess, Wes had already been in a pissy mood. He quickly decided that it could just as easily been his own class room, which made the whole thing not cool. Of course, once he found out who had been responsible for the mess, that left him gunning that much more to have the whole issue addressed. The bastard had insulted his kid, right from the start. He'd been on Wes' shit list, the minute he stepped foot on the island. Then there were the other incidents involving the kid, that tended to be passed around from teacher to teacher. The kid was trouble. Worse even, he had the temper, and manners of a five year old, but in a twenty something year old, were body. That was dangerous.

Yeah, he hadn't been completely alone in this fit throwing, but Wes couldn't really fault the girl for being an idiot, and sticking her nose where it didn't belong. The young women of Halcyon seemed it be plagued with stupidity lately. Wandering around, and approaching unstable supernaturals, for what... entertainment? Oh yeah, that was really fucking smart. Wes suspected that most could not yet sense the nature of all of those they approached. It could be something that came with age, but, it would be beneficial for everyone to have it. Would likely save people a great deal of grief. But, so long as the youth thought they were ten foot tall, and bullet proof... or looking to play the helpless victim for the attention, shit like this would continue to happen. Yeah, it was obvious Wes didn't miss being under a century old. The drama was ridiculous, as were the egos.

Pretty much everything thus far had been a big cocktail of things that annoyed him. Leecee, of course had to step in, thanks to the little girls involvement.... Wes didn't care much for Leecee, hadn't since the moment they met. Then again, who could really blame him for not digging someone who not only spoke down to him, insulted him by assuming he didn't really know a damn thing about tattooing, but also dissed his shop? Wes didn't think it was unfair to run of his first impression with the witch. So, when she contacted him, saying that she, and Miklos would handle things, and he should just step back, he had bristled. Really, if he hadn't had plans to speak to the kids before that, he certainly had afterwards. But, as it stood, Leecee was member of staff, as well as the guide teacher to both of his kids, so, he did his best to seem formally polite. Not an easy task for him, as he would much rather just tell everyone what he really thought of them.

There was a reason he'd requested they meet in his office, rather than his own classroom, or the shop even. Wes spent very little time in his office, and that was obvious by it's plan decoration, and neat appearance. It didn't fit his personality at all. But, when you had a were coming in, that was known for destroying things, the last thing you wanted, was to have them around stuff that you valued. The thick soled boots he wore, were propped atop his desk. The tops of which were tucked into his trademark, ragged, decorated, patched jeans. Today he had picked out an old, faded t-shirt, with 'The Coasters', written in a cracked graphic across the front. Yeah... he didn't look like he belonged in a classroom at all. A tattoo parlor, yeah, the stage, certainly.

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silvertongued
2008-08-06 05:05 pm UTC (link)

The past two days had certainly been interesting. While having two escorts, at first, had been mildly amusing, the novelty was starting to wear off. Initially, he’d badgered the hell out of the two armed men, searching for their breaking point as he did with anyone new, but he quickly found that their combined tolerance was that of a starving, cornered wolverine and they responded with weapons drawn far more immediately than he anticipated whenever he attempted to pull a stunt. Miklos had obviously meant it when he’d spoken about setting some guidelines – because really, giving them silver weapons? It made a statement.

Leaving his last class of the day, which was ironically pottery – he’d certainly made a lot of friends in that class – Caibre took the brunt of everyone’s glares as he packed up his things and ducked out of the room after the teacher had dismissed them. The men he’d nicknamed Ret and Ardy fell into place a step behind him, having been stationed at the classroom door, and he could not help but roll his eyes and sigh. The temptation to beat one over the head with a textbook and hopefully outrun the other one definitely sprang to mind...but then he remembered he had a meeting with Wes scheduled. Goddamn it all.

“I have to take a leak,” he said shamelessly, taking a sharp right into the Men’s washroom, his entourage shadowing him. Setting his sling pack down on the floor, he glanced over as Ardy positioned himself not four feet away. Blinking, Caibre refrained from unzipping and stared pointedly at the man. “You going to hold it, too?” he snapped. “Christ, man, I can piss by myself,” he continued, slanting his head somewhat to enhance the potency of his displeasure. It seemed to work, as Ardy contemplated the situation a moment, and actually seemed mildly uncomfortable as she slipped back out the washroom door to stand beside Ret. The two of them were aptly named, because the Werelion, if left alone, would always, inevitably, find trouble.

Hitching his bag back over his shoulder, Caibre scaled the wall with a lazy jump, hauling himself into the window’s ledge and snapping the hinge so that he could fit through. Crawling through out onto the grass, he dusted himself off triumphantly and commenced his victory strut, only to detect the sound of weapons loading to his left. Hanging his head defeatedly, he began to walk toward Wes’ office without any further protest. It was exhausting never getting away with anything, and it was starting to get really old. Fast.

Marched up to the art teacher’s office, he bitterly kicked at the base of the door in place of a knock, leering over his shoulder at one of the men behind him briefly.

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tattooed_skin
2008-08-07 09:36 pm UTC (link)

Most of the staff were more, or less aware of all the precautions that had been taken with the were. In his opinion, it was ridiculous. Wasting that time, and energy for what? A brat, that's what. Yeah, he knew the type, his two bastards were brats as well. River had been kicked out of his "normal" school, for similar shit. Did anyone see him pulling it here? No, why was that? Wes was around, and he knew better. Not once, had he ever raised a hand to any of his children. That was a cowards way, and he was no coward. It helped that he knew enough of what to anticipate with his kids, that he could prepare himself for these types of battles. He also knew that it pissed them off, that nothing they ever did, really got a rise out of him. Really now, he was four centuries old, he'd seen it all.

When the interesting statement of knocking sounded, he didn't move. Pushing his sunglasses up into the mess of hair, he sighed. This was going to be interesting. "Your hands are more than capable of opening a door, and I'm not wasting energy on you, so you'll have to let yourself in." Came his ever calm, ever bored tone. "In other words, it's open." At that, he lifted his legs from the desk, sitting up right, and resting his arms atop the wooden surface before them. When the door did open, he looked up, spying the guards flanking the kid. With a roll of his eyes, Wes shook his head. "No, you two wait outside. This isn't a party." As they might not have been so willing to trust the kid alone, they didn't seem to eager to argue with Wes. "Sit down." He said, nudging out one of the chairs with the tip of his boot. This kid was going to give him a headache, he already knew it.

"Alright, here's the deal, I don't like to dance around shit, it's a waste. So, how about we keep this short, and sweet, and you tell me what the fuck that little stunt was about. I'm sure you've had to explain yourself to your guide, and Leecee, but here's the thing, I'd rather hear it straight from you, rather than third person." It was always interesting how things got mixed up, and jumbled in those situations. "I've seen the tape, it tells me you have the temper, and the manners of a five year old... not to mention a really bad arm. What, did dad not play catch with you, when you were a kid?" Wes had seen all that the kid had done, he didn't want to hear about something he could watch, he wanted to know why the kid was acting out. It wasn't always a simple answer, and he knew that.

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silvertongued
2008-08-08 09:23 pm UTC (link)

While Wes may have seen it all, but Caibre had the ability to annoy beyond his years, so the teacher was in for a treat. Turning the handle to the door, he glanced at the man who had arranged himself so deliberately in the chair and on the desk with a smirk, quickly looking behind him as she flicked his wrist sharply to slam the door in the guards’ faces, of course throwing in a little wave with the other hand. Sauntering in a few paces, hands behind his back, Caibre investigated the room curiously. Odd that a man, blatantly so colourful, so many different ways, would have such a bland office. Maybe he’d recently moved, or he never used this chamber, perhaps, unless for official meetings? Either way, it was boring. There was however a window, which he found himself staring out for several minutes.

Relieved to be rid of the cortege behind him, the Were stepped a little closer to the window, setting his right hand upon the framework softly. As the man yammered on next to him, Caibre flickered his sight up at the clouds, squinting slightly as the late afternoon sun’s rays still bore down rather potently into his green eyes, then surveyed the horizon, or what he could see of it, quite languid in his movements.

Eventually, as a noticeable silence overtook the room, weighting heavy on the both of them, he abruptly swivelled his head over to look toward the tattooed man, elevating his brows slightly. “O I’m sorry, Wes.... I forgot you were there,” he said with a purposeful indifference and lethargy.

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tattooed_skin
2008-08-12 04:30 am UTC (link)

"Yeah, that's cute." What, like his own kid didn't say shit like that all the time? So original, he was complete scorned by the wit. "If I had known you were so sentimental about the country side of the island, I would have stationed a chair at the window for you. You're just surprising, aren't you?" It was difficult for him not to be rude. For starters, the two hadn't began on good terms. They had insulted each other openly, and in a fasion not appropriate of a teacher. It was likely why Wes had avoided the kid. His record kept building up, sounding better, and better as time passed. It hadn't helped change Wes' opinion of him.

A weathered hand rose, to drag paint speckled finger tips, through the patch of beard, covering his cheek. "You know, I don't get why you're here. I doubt you were forced, and it seems more than obvious that you don't want to be here. You're wasting the schools time, your own. Why not just leave?" Leecee had said their goal should be to not lose a student, truth was, he really didn't care at this point. It wasn't fair to those kids who wanted to learn, who weren't throwing tantrums for no good reason. It wasn't right that they were spending time, dealing with the trouble makers, when there could be kids actually looking for assitance. But, some people would do anything for attention.

If he wanted to sit here in silence, and not answer questions, that was fine with him. One would eventually grow tired of it, and if he had to put down money as to who, Wes would bet on himself holding out. This kid didn't seem the type to just stay calm. "I've known a lot of guys like you in my past, myself included. Chaos demon, you know, we thrive on destruction." Which was probably the main reason he wasn't sweating this at all. The kid started shit, the longer they went, the stronger Wes would become, Caibre though, he'd eventually tap out. "Most of which are either now dead, or in jail. Maybe a cage would be a good thing for you?" Just because he didn't want to answer questions, didn't mean Wes had any intention to stop asking them.

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