|poeticmisery (poeticmisery) wrote in manchester_rpg,|
@ 2010-06-04 21:44:00
|Entry tags:||beth, desmond|
Nothing is ever easy...
Who: Desmond and Beth
When: Friday afternoon
Where: Outside on the Campus Grounds
At the main gates to the Alden university campus, a man stood. From behind, this man could have been any man at all, which was not to say there was nothing unique about him, for there was. But rather, there was nothing about him that bespoke his originality beyond what any human easily could have had. Nor was there anything about his movements that was particularly fascinating, except perhaps, for the slowness that he took in them. Around him, people easily moved past, flowing and ignoring him as if he were not there, and yet it was because they moved that he stood out, a solitary pillar of stability amidst a rushing crowd that was busy doing all sorts of things, and yet he seemed to be doing almost nothing.
The man was doing something, however, he was looking at the gate in, studying it quietly, the way that a man in an art museum might stare at a mural on the wall. And the tragedy of it perhaps was not that the man stared up at the gate like it was a piece of art, for it was finely crafted, and when looked on from the right angle betrayed a wonderful view in towards the luscious, expansive campus. The tragedy was that the people who moved past him like stream water flowing past a rock, did not stop and look at it beyond a cursory glance, that there was nothing unique about it at all to them, save for a marker of some place that they were either going to or coming from.
As they passed him, a few women paused, turning back to look at him, their faces colored lightly with blushes. It seemed, while the man could have been anyone from the back, he was not anyone from the front. And though some giggled and shyly waved at him, there was little indication given to them that they were noticed beyond a quiet nod of his head, and the curving of his cheeks to betray a small, quiet smile. But those who noticed would then quietly pass. While it appeared that the man was good looking, there were other good looking people in the world, especially in this place where godlings and temptresses were not so uncommon as they might be elsewhere.
Others, who did not see his face, stared as well. This was more than likely because the man was dressed in all black, despite it being the middle of the afternoon. A raven duster, which matched the pitch hue of his hair perfectly covered most of it, still, as it flitted lightly in the wind those who might look would see a dark pair of slacks, and a pair of black, sturdy looking boots that they wrapped around the top of. But those who noticed such details too, quickly turned around and went back to the busy buzzing of their day like good worker bees. After all, people who dressed in a gothic fashion, even those wearing leather gloves in the middle of the day as he was, were nothing to write home about.
Then, slowly, after what seemed an eternity of non action, the man in black quietly began to move, not at the bustled pace that everyone else seemed to be moving, but rather, in a slow, reflective fashion, his head tilted back to look up at the buildings, and yet he easily stepped past obstacles in his path as if knowing where each and every one was. Whether this was some sort of gift of his or just a trick of him glancing down every few seconds was unclear, but there was an odd grace to the way that he held himself. Each step was considered, metered out, measured, and then taken, lightly. Each footfall rolled from the heel to the ball of the foot effortlessly, his hands moving easily at his sides.
The dull yellow-orange of the manilla envelope contrasted sharply with the black of his leather gloves as calmly opened it and pulled out a paper near the top, his head bowing slightly as he read the words on the page, his steps not faultering as he moved, free hand tracing the type on the page before he looked up, and around. Pausing for just a heartbeat to get his bearings, he began to move in the direction of what looked like an official type building. As he stepped up to it, he politely opened the door for a lady, but as soon as he had done so, a steady stream of people began to enter in front of him. What had been perfectly smooth steps now were disjointed as he tried to make a move forward but was quickly cut off by one person, and another, and another.
As he leaned back he finally felt the door click back into a permanently open position, staring at it for a long moment before wringing his hands and then calmly inserting himself into the steady stream of people going inside, putting himself in front of a young man as he slid inside, smoothing out the sides of his duster somewhat nervously like a bird trying to smooth down it's ruffled feathers. As he stepped inside of the big building, a slight frown touched his features at the sheer numble of people coming and going, as he looked around, hardly moving in the slightest, even when people roughly brushed up against him from behind.
Finally his eyes caught a sign that pointed to the main registration office, and he followed it, nimbly making his way through the crowd at an unhurried pace, seeming to keep a nearly perfect 1 foot barrier between himself and the people around him at all times, slipping this way and that to make it happen before he arrived in front of a place that was marked as 'Registration'. Looking down at the sheet, he stood there for a long quiet moment, not taking his eyes off of the paper, before he calmly looked up again, took a slow breath, and then nodding, quietly made his way forward towards the room.
Inside of the room there was a row of what anyone else might recognize as computers, all of which had screens that had a large button in the middle of them that said 'click here to start'. Quietly, the man in black strolled up, leaning in as if he were nearsighted to stare at the screen, tilting his head to the side for a moment, then tilting it to the other side before he calmly raised a gloved hand up, and as gently as he could, gingerly tapped the class CRT monitor screen. Nothing happened. Taking in a slow breath he tapped it a little harder, then harder still, pausing as he realized that any harder and he would break the glass screen of the thing, whichy he had learned, since his awakening, was not such a good idea.
"Psst, hey buddy, you're supposed to use the mouse." A student next to him instructed, pointing down to the oddly round shaped thing with a cord which disappeared off behind the desk.
Calmly, the man reached down a gloved hand, examining the contraption for a moment, before picking it up, hefting it in his hand calmly, getting a guess for it's weight, then taking a slow breath, nodded at the man next to him and lightly tapped the edge of the mouse against the computer screen where it instructed. Again, nothing happened. Frowning slightly, the man began to turn the mouse over in his hand until a bright red lazer caught him square in the eye, causing him to drop it quickly and take a step back, causing most of the people around to stare at him.
Desmond frowned. This was not going to be easy.
Quietly he walked to a desk which looked as if it might be for helping people, and lightly put his papers on the desk. "Ah, excuse me." he said softly, making certain that his words were of the proper tone for the age. The way he'd spoken first waking up had gotten him plenty of laughs, and it only took reading a newspaper a time or two for him to realize that language had, as it often did, changed over time, even if it thankfully was still the same language. Almost, anyway. It seemed as if the younger crowd often spoke in some hybrid language that was... more challenging to understand.
"Can I help you?" the woman at the counter asked.
"Yes, I'm here to, Ah, Register." Desmond said politely, handing her the manilla envelope.
"You know that you can do it over there, right?" The woman said, pointing to the computers behind him.
"Actually, I really cannot, Miss." Desmond replied politely, trying to smile.
"Oookay...Ah, yes, Mr. uhm, well, it looks as if they don't have a last name for you. What is your last name?"
Desmond paused for a moment. Names were such arbitrary things, Shakespeare had rightly pointed out that it was not the name but the object itself that bore importance, but it seemed as if few followed such a philosophy. "Mangas is my surname. I should have introduced myself earlier, Desmond Mangas, a pleasure to make your acquaintance mila-" Desmond paused as the woman had already moved on to doing something else. People of this age did not seem to like it when someone else spoke for overly long, even though they would go on at length if they were afforded the chance to speak.
"Alright, it looks like you're all set. As far as the housing arrangements go, I'm afraid there's been something of a mixup, and for now you're going to have to stay with Miss Dannika Richardson. Here's the address. Let me know if there's anything else that you need."
Desmond waited very patiently until she finished speaking before he spoke himself, even though he seemed a little flustered. "I ah, don't understand, Miss Richardson? As in female?"
"That is correct sir. She's going to be your roommate until we have a single bedroom open up for you as you requested."
"But... that is not, proper." Desmond tried to intone calmly. "She and I are not..."
"Mr. Mangas, it IS the 21st century, and while we don't usually do this, given that all of our mortal students are given a pendant when they come into the school, I'm sure that she will be able to restrain herself from jumping your bones for a few weeks. Is there anything else I can help you with?"
"Ah... jumping my bones?" Desmond asked politely.
"Is there anything else, Mr. Mangas?" the woman intoned, a bit more tersely.
"No... I... thank you." Desmond said politely as he quietly exited the registration room and made his way outside of the building towards a fountain in what looked to be an open area of the campus, sitting on the edge of it as he frowned slightly and stared at the ground. This was going to be MUCH harder than he thought.
Nothing is ever easy...