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Post by annabelle elyse thorne on Mar 31, 2009 19:11:00 GMT -5
Elle had been sitting around her room doing absolutely nothing for the past hour and it was beginning to rake her nerves. This wasn't acceptable. By now someone should have come through the dorms, knocked on her door, and initiated some form of communication. This wasn't how the average Saturday was supposed to work for Elle. God damnit, she thought as she flitted out of her bed and hit the ground walking, who do I have to execute to get some attention around here? She chuckled evilly and arrived at her door, gracefully pulling it open and ducking her head out at the commotion outside. "What the..." She stopped and hit herself on th forehead, slamming the door and rushing around the room, removing the red mark from her forehead in the process.
This was why no one ever relied on her. How could she manage to survive in the world if she couldn't even keep the days of the week straight? She glanced at her clock and noticed she had fifteen minutes to get to her Friday morning class. Shutting her eyes, she glamoured up, not having time for a relaxing shower, and pulled on the most comfortably fashionable thing she could get her hands on. Grabbing her French V book from her desk, she flew out of the door and through the halls, noticing most people had already left for classes with enough time to converse along the way. What skanks, not even waiting for me...
Elle ran through her days activities, switching her mind from Saturday mode to Friday mode, as she crossed the halls to arrive at her advanced French class, with all of her four classmates. It would be too noticeable to arrive late, so she kicked the speed up a notch and darted around the corner, twirling gracefully to avoid the dispicable beast she almost collided with. Even in human form, werewolves repulsed her completely. She breathed in, arriving at the door to her class and turned the doorknob, fixing her hair. She smiled as she walked through the door to her...empty classroom. "Fuck," was all she could say as she remembered she had Russian III this period. Wrong continent. Turning around, she began walking down the halls, figuring that she didn't need to go to Russian class today anyway.
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Post by darcy on Apr 4, 2009 5:00:25 GMT -5
darcy sighed, staring up at her dorm ceiling, she couldn't be bothered to get out of her bed, and besides, she thought to herself, she didn't have a lesson yet. it was only... seven a.m. so there was no point in getting up from her bed just yet. darcy let her mind twist around the ideas of what she could do after her lessons today - maybe sing along to some songs in her dorm? or possibly go out? she shook her head, the only reason she went anywhere from the academy was when she felt trapped by the walls or if she wanted fresh air to find and hunt an animal for blood.
darcy glanced at her bedside clock and raised her eyebrows. "shit!" she shouted - it was time for her first class; english, and she was late by fifteen minutes already. darcy sighed - her teacher would murder her. sure, darcy wasn't one of the best students in the class, but she certainly wasn't an extremely bad one, either. she was more like... well, the kid who got B grades. darcy looked down at her clothes; jeans and an old t-shirt. she shrugged, she knew she'd be fine with her clothes, she just needed to brush her long, golden hair and she'd be ready.
she slammed her dorm door as she passed by it in a rush; she couldn't be any later than twenty minutes, the teacher really would kill her. darcy was almost at the bottom of the hall before she realised that she had no shoes on. "fuck!" she screamed and dashed back to her dorm, grabbing her converse trainers and shoving them on her feet, quickly dashing out of her dorm again and running at super speed down the hallway.
darcy finally got to her locker after five minutes. by then she knew that the teacher would kill her and all she could do was sigh heavily. fuck her class. she just... wouldn't go. shrugging, she grabbed her ipod from her locker and smiled slightly as she shoved her earphones in, turning the volume down slightly, afetr all,she didn't want to burst her eardrums just yet. darcy grinned as the familiar song by avril lavigne vibrated through the earphones. "now i feel invisible to you, like i'm not there..."
it was then that she collided with someone. "shit, sorry!" darcy pulled her earphones out and glanced at the person - it was a girl with blonde hair and darcy knew that she'd seen her somewhere before... [/blockquote] |
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Post by annabelle elyse thorne on Apr 5, 2009 22:12:25 GMT -5
Elle had no sooner turned the corner to head back to her dorm, when she was rammed head-on by oncoming traffic. Had she not flustered her wings out quickly enough, Elle would have been sprawled out upon the floor. Hovering back down to the floor, she looked the girl in the eye with a fierce scowl, her disposition making up for their similarity in height. As she collected her wits, she had to pull herself in from throwing a fit and attacking the girl. Remember Elle, you are the popular nice one at this place. Save the torment for the games. Elle tried to pass her look of disgust off as a look of concern quickly and began working off the facade she developed to keep the suspicion away from her as far as the Execution Squad goes.
Elle had decided that upon entering the Squad, she would play the stupid "Prom Queen" stereotype from one of those normal high schools to win people over. Taking over from the inside and working her way out seemed like the best course of action for Elle. She couldn't let one slip ruin it. She liked being the ringleader. She liked calling the shots. Elle almost had everything going for her. All she needed now was a man upon her arm. She had the power, the beauty, and the fame, at least at the Academy. Elle just needed a few minions to carry out her bidding and some lovely male sex slaves and she would be fit to rule, as she should. Plastering a smile on her face, Elle tended to the issue at hand.
“Ah! I’m soooo sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going at all!” Elle nearly threw up in her mouth at the act she was putting on. Flourishing her hand and swiping her hair behind her shoulder, Elle stuck a dainty hand out to her attacker. “Hi, I’m Elle, by the way,” she began as she pulled into her role a bit better, “Well, Annabelle, but you can call me Elle. Sorry we had to formally meet like this.” Elle waited for the gesture to be returned and for the girl to cluelessly follow on. It would happen like so; there were no deviations. The school couldn’t afford for there to be any problems. But besides, Elle had given a flawless performance, whether she agreed with that or not. Elle Thorne was so disgusti-fuck-ingly-perfect it even made her sick at times. She longed to run a game again and get the stench of goody-two-shoes out of her skin.
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