Halcyon Halls

When: Night
Where: Lesser known Commons Room with great gaming set up
Who: Ray, Ayo, various other npc sorts gaming

Monday passed in a blur of sleeping through classes and up all night selling. Tuesday often passed in the same fucking fashion. Except by the time night rolled around Ray didn’t feel like going to the club and dealing with the bullshit that often ensued. Whiny little shits wanting a free fix, obnoxious music or regulars hounding him. Yeah Ray’s patience wasn’t always that great and sometimes just fucking gaming all night was far more appealing then making some more cash that night. Course with the sort of people he hooked up to game with, he got some business anyways. Win win.

Sometime after last class Ray took over the commons room pretty out of sight and out of mind from the rest of the school. Last thing he needed was a bunch of guards walking past the door time and time again. Sort of killed the fucking mood. The place had a decent set up for gaming, a large ass tv and alright speakers. He could make it far better if he put some effort into it but that was going too far for him tonight. What it had would work well enough and he was cool with that. So was everyone else that ended up showing up. Inviting one gamer always meant inviting fucking 10 or near enough to it. Right now they were going on seven. Uneven number, never good, someone got to watch or something. Sucked to be them.

Drinks were scattered all over the place and bags of chips and various other snacks decorated the place. When they took over a room they sure as hell took over a room. More tv’s had been brought in, wires criss-crossed against the ground, tripping just about anyone that walked in and had no idea what was going on. Or those that did and just didn’t pay any damned attention to where they were walking.

One screen had Halo going. The solo player was mugging some old bitches in grand theft auto. Another had Call of Duty blaring gunfire through the room. Ray, at the moment, was tearing it up in Halo. “Shit shit shit shit shit shit…” tourettes gamer number one had been chanting that for the last ten minutes. Every time he respawned Ray was on him. “By the way…your dead again.” Ray remarked, smirking as the guy shook his controller and turned beat red. Fucking looked like he was damned near ready to explode the way he was going.

“Son of a bitch!” perfect shot to kill another on the red team. “Where the hell did that come from?” the typical gamer banter. Each group had there swears and curses going on. Beneath it all were the mutters of blaming the controller, or an off day, or any other excuse they could come up with to explain why they were sucking ass today. Ray ignored it all, he didn’t need any excuses. He was doing just fucking fine.

“Alright, screw this, I need a smoke break.” Apparently that guy wasn’t capable of playing and smoking at the same time. Pansy. The controller thudded to the ground as he pushed himself to his feet and took his pouted place by the window to smoke. “Sure you don’t need to step outside so that we don’t see your tears?” Ray questioned, leaning back and glancing at the other with a smirk. The guy just flipped him off. Ray laughed and grabbed up his drink. Shit might as well take advantage of the break in game play.

Who: Ayolinda and Peck
Where: Rocky shoreline
When: Saturday afternoon
What: She summons more than a seal to the shore.

This close proximity to others wasn't entirely working out for her. While Ayolinda had gone to schools in more populated areas, she'd planned it so that at least three days of the week could still be spent at a location by the ocean. Staying in her father's house, it was impossible not to, but Halcyon was packed so much more tightly with people. At least the shore was.

Already she'd left two shorelines after seeing a curious head pop up or a glimmer of someone overhead and she'd closed her mouth. It wasn't that she had to sing. It was just the thing she'd always done for herself. Ayolinda got why her song could lure, she felt it more strongly than anyone else. The song was like therapy. She had no aspirations to sing professionally, or even for a crowd. Her songs were passionate songs of longing. When she was eight her father had taken her to see Amalia Rodrigues in Los Angeles, of all places. She had said that night that all her love songs were sad, because that is what she knew how to sing.

Ayolinda had grown obsessed with fado after she had lost her wings. Saudade, that undefinable emotion of longing or loss for something you just could not have. That want, the despair, the negative swirling that, in many ways, was beautiful because it opened up your emotions to memories and thoughts that filled you with rememberance. That was why they had fado for one's homecountry, parents, or anything people sometimes lost and could never get back.

After a few test bars, Ayolinda let loose. Sitting on a large rock, her sandals still on the shore, the hem of her rolled linen capris was wet with sea water as the waves splashed up against her feet. It was cold, but it was worth the strange feeling of contentment she felt when you were just in the water and could look out into the endless horizon.

She knew her family and others could possibly hear her. Her voice pulled at people, tugged at their hearts, even if just a little. Only once had she recorded herself, if only to confirm how beautiful her voice could be. But it seemed a pity to hear it come out so tinny when the air would twist it in so many wonderful ways as she could sing with everything or as little as she wanted at the water. Sometimes in Cape Verde dolphins would appear in the water to hear her, the setting sun, she remembered, would shine off their bodies.

Eyes closed, she sang a much longer rendition of Em Aranjuez Com Teu Amor than had probably ever been recorded, but she took it slowly, savoring each word and phrase and repeating them when she felt it. When she stopped, all she could hear was the waves moving, but she had a startle when someone's face came into sight as her re-opened eyes adjusted to the light. There were no words, only an accusation in those eyes of having her private moment --which had to have involved roughly hundreds of miles of ocean-- disturbed.

Who: James and Ayolinda
When: Friday Afternoon
Where: The Nail Salon

Certainly he was not the only man at this school that cared about his appearance. It was definitely starting to seem as such. James was at the salon at least once per week to have his hair trimmed and at the nail salon at least once a week as well for a pedicure and a manicure. All the times that he had been, he had yet to ever see another man there and the women all acted shocked the first time or two that he had visited. Honestly, what age were they living in? A man's nails and hair was just as important as any woman's. Strange, but who was he to tell anyone else how to live?

Friday was the day that he had all of those things taken care of. The first stop was always a coffee shop for a nice cup of latte. Second came the hair salon to get a trim and, of course, a facial. The third place he always went was to some of the more pricey stores in the city, looking to see what the latest releases looked like. It was important, after all, to keep himself in fashion. The final place he would stop for the evening, unless there was more shopping to be done, was the nail salon, where he would have his pedicure first and his manicure second. Always in that order.

This is where James was at present, the nail salon, his feet soaking in the jet-filled water so that the manicurist could work her magic. This was where he sat when the door above the door chimed and a girl that had become more than familiar in the past day appeared, as if she had followed him here as well. Already he had seen her at the hair salon and the clothing store. And now she was here as well. Seemed someone had finally arrived at Halcyon with similar taste to his own.