. . . . . entries for 29.4.04 . . . . .
That pretty devil.
"You may ask yourself,
What is that beautiful house?
You may ask yourself,
Where does that highway go to?
And you may ask yourself,
Am I right? Am I wrong?
And you may say to yourself,
My God, what have I done?"
. . . . . entries for 28.4.04 . . . . .
"Beneath the bebop moon,
I wanna croon
With you. . .
Beneath the mambo sun,
I've gotta be the one
With you,
Oooh,
With you,
Mmm, with you. . ."
. . . . . entries for 27.4.04 . . . . .
. . . . . entries for 26.4.04 . . . . .
Me: xD what is this profile of yours?
explain!
NOW!
Charlie: oh, my profile xD
didnt i tell you?
Me: no, actually. xD
so I'm a bit concerned.
Charlie: what?
crazy
well yeah
it was craziness from nashville
and a testament to the rumormill that seton really is
so yeah
Me: mmhmm.
I see.
Charlie: the last night of the nashville trip, three senior girls went down the hall to the room next door to mine to have a sleep over
this was breaking the rules in two manners
a) it was after curfew and we were supposed to be in our rooms, and b) they had been explicitly told not to have sleepovers
but they were in the room next door
so there were seven girls
three juniors and four seniors (the juniors and one of the seniors were actually supposed to be in the room)
so, just to give you an idea of the situation of the rooms in relation to each other...
9:00PM
we were on the fifth floor, and had balconies looking out into the hotel's amazingly lush and gigantic indoor garden conservatory
and rooms which were right next to one another would share a balcony, with just a wall to divide the rooms
so we each had pretty much a half balcony
so what happened was i was out on the balcony talking to bri (the only senior who was supposed to be there... lol)
and she invited me over to eat pizza with them--ordered from room service--and to play a board game
still with me?
Me: yes.
Charlie: ok
Me: you're such a bloody ladies' man. xD
Charlie: so i, being the brillliant child that i am, decide to accept the offer
and yes. yes i am.
xD
so i went next door, had a slice of pizza when it arrived, and was playing this board game Moods with them
Me: . . .
Charlie: i'd been there about 20 minutes when the chaperones (who were supposed to be patrolling the hall to make sure something like this didnt happen in the first place) returned and discovered us
Me: so you're sure you're not gay? xD
Charlie: positive xD
Me: I'm not. xD
Charlie: ...unless there's something you'd like to tell me?
you *are* a girl, right?
Me: xD yes.
Charlie: xD
Me: actually..
Charlie: aaah!
actually what??
Me: actually I *am* female.
or I was, last time I checked.
Charlie: ah
lol
so anyway
9:05PM
they pretty much blow the whole thing out of proportion
they had reasons which are complicated and might tell you about in person or on the phone some time when it doesnt involve copious amounts of typing
i might*
but we came back to school that monday, and by the end of the day, rumours were flying
first, it was that we were drinking
next, it was that i had sex with jocelyn (one of the juniors, who is quite possibly the *most* straight-laced girl i know)
after that, it was that we *all* had sex
Me: what do you expect? xD
Charlie: and the group of us, thinking that it was highly amusing, came up with our own version of what happened
which involves us playing twister
naked
xD
Me: ::winces::
creepy.
just creepy.
Charlie: well, taking off clothes as we play, actually--it's strip twister
and doing shots of tequila
Me: . . . that makes no sense. xD
Charlie: and passing around a crack pipe
Me: how could you take off clothing while playing twister?
Charlie: that was the tricky part xD
Me: think about it.
you have permanantly destroyed my mind. xD
Charlie: i cant, its all shrouded in a drug induced haze xD
yep, i know xD
Me: so damn it!
Charlie: but some of my favorite comments were...
Me: why didn't you invite me?
::kicks him in the shins::
Charlie: a) "my favorite part was when we were so smashed that we couldn't tell the colors apart... that got pretty kinky, if you know what i'm sayin'...."
9:10PM
actually, i think that might have been *my* quote xD
and ow.
Me: what is this "ow?"
Charlie: and b) "i just loved it... we were so totally baked that we just started licking the walls"
ow. you kicked me.
::kicks her back::
Me: pbbt, took you long enough.
ow.
biyatch!
Charlie: i would have invited you if i could
and besides, it was completely spur of the moment xD
Me: . . . by the way, I'm blogging all of this.
Charlie: dear god
xD
i think my favoritve part of this whole thing is that im getting this whole rep as a ladies man (three dates to sadies, the nashville affair, as its now called)
and the people who generally make fun of me for being... idk
nerdy maybe
just different
suddenly have absolutely *nothing* to say
xD
Me: xD excellent.
Charlie: its hilarious
and im just like
ohhhhh yeah
and then there were rumors that i made out with this other chick on the dinner cruise
im just like...
wow
::hugs::
Me: ::hugs back:: xD
although truly. . .
I myself am finding it hard not to believe these rumors. xD
Charlie: xD
oh, really?
Me: really.
Charlie: so, if you believe them, why havent you started yelling at me for undermining our relationship yet?
Me: because there's simply no way to keep the ladies off of you. xD
Charlie: xD
good point
keeping them off of me... literally
i was almost crushed in the hotel room
i mean, seven girls
xD
oh, craziness
Me: I thought you weren't a drinking man? xD
Charlie: i wasnt
the crack got me started
oh, and a little advice...
if you're drinking tequila....
dont eat the worm
xD
I am about to blog a very fascinating conversation between Charlie and I. He is well aware of this. xD Be warned. . .
. . . . . entries for 20.4.04 . . . . .
Not again, NOT AGAIN.
o.O Urg! Sibelius is killing my sooooul. It converted my score to a very pretty MIDI before - so why is it that the piece that's INFINITELY cooler converts to a terrible, terrible MIDI!? Why? ::sighs:: . . . yeah. I'm in MIDI tech. Again.
I wore shorts today to spite everyone. Mwahaha. Unfortunately, people don't seem very spited. Shame.
. . . . . entries for 19.4.04 . . . . .
Flight of an Angel
an adaptation of the Odyssey by Erin Sherman
Prologue
Raphael was a student at the Oregon Academy for the Extraordinarily Talented. That summer, the August after his junior year, he was “vacationing” at his father’s summer home. In truth, he would rather have been anywhere else - particularly with his girlfriend Elle, who was staying at the Academy over the summer.
One afternoon, after a slight spat between Raphael and his father, our hero could be found snoozing on a sunny beach. . .
Chapter 1.....................................Pomegranates and Mangoes
In his sleep, Raphael bore some resemblance to his angelic namesake. His permanently windswept dark auburn locks fell on closed eyelids and freckled cheeks. Although he lay on the white sand of a West Coast beach, his body was plastered with SPF 45. Raphael wore green khaki shorts and a black tank top; out of habit, a black silk tie hung limp around his pale neck.
He awoke to a most unexpected sight: a pair of lavender blue eyes took up nearly his entire field of vision. His own generously lashed lids blinked over sparkling peridot irises as he scrambled backwards in the sand.
“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”
The voice was sticky sweet as it flowed from lips covered in shining crimson gloss. The mysterious violet eyes belonged to a girl with an ageless beauty; she could have been as young as 15 or as old as 30.
“You’re so pretty when you’re asleep,” she crooned, sitting up and looking Raphael in the eyes. “But now that you’re awake, I know you aren’t just a California boy on vacation up north.”
“What?” Raphael asked, drowsy and confounded. He wasn’t very used to girls going after him; on the contrary, he was always going after girls.
“You can’t be human. . . not with eyes like that,” she said, laying an impossibly soft hand on his cheek. “Angel eyes. . .”
“Um. . . well, imagine that,” he blurted, not at all in his finest form. He regained his composure and continued: “my name is Raphael. If I may know to whom I owe the pleasure?”
“Rimona,” she replied. That single word flowed, an alluring nectar, from the girl’s lips, and Raphael knew himself cursed. She ran her delicate fingers through his hair as he contemplated.
If later asked to describe Rimona, Raphael would have been forced to admit the impossibility of the task. Her overwhelmingly noticeable feature was the color of her eyes; all other observations were brushed off, irrelevant compared to their tanzanite shade. Her hair could have been any length, texture or hue, her skin any color, her body voluptuous or svelte. He couldn’t remember anything but her eyes.
And so, the lady-killer found himself involuntarily smitten with a stranger during the last month of summer. Raphael’s alias requires some clarification: he was, and always had been, a charming but shameless flirt. He had earned the nickname “lady-killer” during those past three years at the Academy, and had never failed to live up to his title. It shouldn’t be difficult to understand, given that background, that his sudden lust was a strange sensation. Raphael was a creature who had always had the luxury of choosing his loves.
The taste of her lipgloss (some strange, sweet fruit that Raphael couldn’t identify) stole his ability to perceive the scent of marijuana enveloping them; indeed, Rimona took thoughts of the very hour of the day from his mind. The sun set swiftly over the hills of Oregon, throwing the figures of Raphael and Rimona into silhouette as they embraced.
When he finally came to his senses, the lady-killer found first the lilac eyes of his beloved (or perhaps only his lusted-after) before him. Shortly, he noticed the starry sky reflected in her pupils, and realized the hour along with the presence of marijuana. He was reminded of one of his favorite songs. “The half-time air was sweet perfume. . .”
He pushed the girl gently away, for she was suddenly strange to him. He wondered if he would ever be capable of forgetting the taste of her kiss, of leaving behind this killing unfaithfulness. In his heart of hearts, he doubted it.
“I have to get going,” he said softly.
Rimona looked puzzled, inquisitive eyes locked into his. “Why’s that, angel eyes? The night is young! Or it that. . . you don’t like me?”
“Oh, no, I like you,” Raphael replied without hesitation, internally chastising himself - but whatever for? He hadn’t lied, certainly. . . “You’re great, but. . . I’ve gotta get home. The old man gets grouchy when I’m out too late. You know how it is.”
“But you’ll come back tomorrow,” she said, more of a statement than a question. He noticed that her lipgloss was smudged during the moment that she blinked. Would he come back tomorrow?
“I’ll see what I can do.” Now, here was a lie; Raphael knew himself too weak to steer clear of Rimona. His return was certain in his mind
“Good,” she said, a brief but satisfied reply. She took him in a farewell kiss, and Raphael remembered a more familiar set of lips. His girlfriend! She had bought an impossibly delicious mango lipgloss, just for him (as any who knew Raphael were well aware, he was hopelessly addicted to all things mango).
Elle. . . her name was Ellen, but he called her Elle. He knew it was a pleasant change from her old nickname, Ellen the Untouchable. Her classmates had dubbed her so because she always kept every inch of skin from her toes to her chin completely covered. She’d let up on this habit somewhat since she’d fallen for Raphael, and somehow or other had lost the nickname almost as quickly.
It was as if Rimona had tasted the memory on Raphael’s lips, seasoned with a dash of guilt and just a pinch of remorse.
“There’s another girl,” she said quietly, her sweet voice barely audible. Tears crept into her amethyst eyes.
“That’s not it,” he insisted. “But I have to get home. I’ll come back, Rimona.” Raphael stood up, shaking sand out of his hair, and began the short trek to his father’s house, a mile or so up the coast. He didn’t hear the violet-eyed girl crying as she watched him walk away, so casual, as if nothing had happened at all.
Chapter 2..................................................Father and Son
Conner Wissen sat in his den, a room which had been furnished with sweat and blood so far as he was concerned. But then, perhaps sweat and blood were the wrong words. Conner was a man preoccupied with words; he was, after all, an English literature professor. He had done extensive research on anything he could think to do research on, including his own lineage. He was exactly one-half Irish, one-fourth German, and one-fourth Danish. His last name, Wissen, was derived from the German verb meaning “to know.” He found it quite appropriate.
His appearance reflected this heritage; he had neatly combed reddish blonde hair that curled as it reached his neck and unremarkable hazel eyes, one of which was covered by a monocle. His skin, much like that of his son’s, was pale and spattered with freckles. Unlike Raphael, Conner had, in his 48 years of life, developed crows’ feet at the corners of his eyes and frown lines on his forehead. His skin was draped, more loosely than it had been in younger years, over a handsome bone structure; he had high cheekbones and a strong, but not obtrusive, chin. This masculinity had been lost upon his soft-featured son, whom Conner was certain would never look like a man, always a boy.
Ah, Raphael. . . all he did was bring his poor father grief. Gabriel, on the other hand, had always kept Conner from going completely insane. This younger of two sons was staying at his boarding school over the summer, since his father actually trusted him to be away from home so long. Gabriel took after Conner; he was an intellectual and, for the most part, serious young man.
But enough about Gabriel; his part in this story comes later.
The elder son, the one whom Conner had long ago tagged “the disappointment,” stepped inside. Conner couldn’t see Raphael from his den, but he could imagine him tracking sand all over the hardwood floor, bare feet swinging along in that unbearable cocky gait.
“I’m home, pop,” he shouted. Conner thought he saw the blown glass vase next to his computer rattle an inch towards the edge of the table. That priceless vase. . .
“Will you quiet down?” he asked, trying to be polite but snapping at his son none the less. “And what is. . .”
Conner sniffed, the his expression disdainful. “What’s that smell, Raphael Sigourney Wissen?”
Raphael blinked confusedly and sniffed. “What smell?” It was hardly surprising that he was incapable of detecting the scent of marijuana; whatever cells in his nose had once sensed the odor were doubtless out of commission by now.
“You know very well, young man,” Conner growled, standing to face this failure, this disgrace to the name Wissen. His voice rose steadily as he continued: “You were smoking at the beach, weren’t you!?”
“I don’t know wha-”
“Don’t lie to me, Raphael!” he screamed. “And do NOT take me for a fool!!”
“But-”
“But nothing, young man! Into your room! Now!”
Raphael opened his mouth to speak, but realized that it was hopeless before he let a sound escape his throat. His father watched him drag himself into his room and slammed the door shut behind him, locking it from the outside with a decisive click.
Conner kept his eyes dry long enough to speak a few choice, bitter words. Raphael heard none of them, and if he had, he wouldn’t have cared for them. “God damn, Raphael. . . do you enjoy seeing me like this? Do you think I want to hate my son?”
While Raphael spoke silent curses at the senseless tyranny of his father, Conner wept honest tears at his failure to guide his son. When Raphael decided it was time to break out and return to the school, Conner was holding the blown glass vase, examining his warped reflection on its cerulean surface, noticing the new wrinkles, his tired eyes, the gray hairs. The very moment Raphael crept quietly out of his window, Conner fell to his knees, wondering what he had done to deserve this, clutching the priceless vase tenderly. When the mellow engine of Raphael’s Cadillac STS rumbled into life, an aged, framed photo of a woman, a boy, and a young man wearing a monocle fell from its place on a shelf, the crystal plate shattering on the floor of Conner’s study. The son took flight while the father grieved.
It was in this way that our hero escaped the villainous man called Conner; it was in this way that Raphael was called valiant for destroying a father who only wanted to love him.
Chapter 3...........................................She Wanted to Burn
Raphael had been driving for hours. It was nearly three in the morning, and he was literally falling asleep at the wheel, which would be a tricky situation to explain to an officer with a nose for marijuana. Too tired to notice or care which exit number it was, he got off the highway and pulled into a parking lot. Any parking lot. He didn’t care. He needed to sleep.
Now that the stench had been brought to his attention and he was awake enough to make conscious decisions, he couldn’t stand being in the car with himself. Raphael was very much in love with his green STS, but he could only take so much. He stepped outside, leaving the windows open a crack, and walked into a grassy area. It was a nice little town. The stars were out, as was a dazzling full moon, having already fallen past its peak height. Raphael hadn’t bothered to put on shoes before leaving, so he had the opportunity to enjoy the damp grass between his toes.
“Oomph!” he cried, silencing himself swiftly. He’d run into some kind of rock. Shrugging, he sat down next to it and leaned against it. It was smooth and cold: pink marble, he realized once he observed more closely. Just like. . . no. No. . .
He glanced around to the side of the rock and leapt up swiftly. A tombstone. No. No, not just a tombstone. He knew that tombstone.
He remembered it clearly: she had always said that. “Felt like someone walked over my grave. Like someone just stepped right over my grave. . .”
She. . . Raphael’s mother. Serafina.
Led by some morbid curiosity, he turned back, keeping a distance away from the stone.
Nice little town, he had thought. He’d wondered why it seemed familiar. Well, as much was obvious now; he’d only lived here for, what, nine years? Ten?
He could make out the lettering clearly. A double grave.
SERAFINA I. WISSEN and SOLANGE H. WISSEN
(1936-2001) (2001)
Death came too soon for a loving wife and newborn child.
“To have a daughter is to know a special kind of joy.”
Solange. Raphael thought he had forgotten the name meant for his baby sister, born three months premature. He had hated that child, that twisted little girl that had killed his mother. But she, too, had died, and early enough to be buried next to the perfect woman who had borne her.
Raphael thought he had forgotten, but he hadn’t. He thought maybe he could escape the memory of a mother’s smile, of blue-green eyes that sparkled with all the life of the aurora and none of its biting cold. He thought he could run away.
But he couldn’t.
He remembered that she had told him she wanted to be cremated, burnt to ashes and stuffed in that silly vase of hers. She claimed it was the first blown glass piece she had ever been happy with, and the rest was history; Serafina had mastered the making of glass artwork not only as a hobby, but sometimes as an occupation or even a reason for being. Her family had insisted, however, that she be buried in the town in which she had grown up; they insisted that her stuffy husband and upstart sons wouldn’t be the only ones to forever mourn her. As if they ever even gave a thought to Serafina’s corpse, lying cold beneath that stone. She wouldn’t burn. They wouldn’t see their angel burn.
Raphael wasn’t sure how long he cried before he fell asleep, and he wasn’t sure how long he slept before he awoke with a start. He was only certain that he leapt to his feet and got out, forgetting about his precious car, his comfort, the closest thing he had to a companion out here. He ran barefoot through the woodlands of Oregon, with miles to go before he reached the Academy.
Chapter 4...........................................Some Are Venomous
It was a moonless night, and the stars shone cold and distant in the sky. In spite of the mosquitoes and the dark, two students at the Academy sat on the quad playing cards.
“You know what I think?” one asked the other. His voice was gravely but not unpleasant to the ear.
“What’s that, Pete?” the other asked, dark brown eyes catching a star in their stony gaze. Neither of them had played a card in ages. Both minds were elsewhere.
“That kid Gabriel. . .” the boy named Pete said, running his hand through his unremarkable brown hair, “that kid needs to be taught a lesson.”
“Yeah?” the other student asked, amused. He set his cards down in the grass, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Why’s that?”
“Think about it, Satoshi,” Pete said, following Satoshi’s movement to put down his hand, the card game entirely forgotten. “He’s been talking to Ellen a lot this summer, ever since Raphael left. That’s not very brotherly, is it? He’s clearly trying to steal her from him. . .”
“Which, of course, would be bad for you,” Satoshi remarked, leaning back, resting his weight on his elbows, “since you want to be the first one to steal her.”
“As if you don’t?”
“Touché. . . not to mention he makes us both look like morons,” he added, giving credit where credit was due. “He’s the kid who got a 1600 on the SAT, right? At what, age fifteen?” Satoshi was much more concerned with his grades than he was with his love life, and Peter just wanted to make trouble. He’d never adhered to any set of rules placed before him, and respect just wasn’t in his vocabulary. Even so, both would have loved to put a wound in that repulsively perfect pair of brothers. . . Gabriel, the genius, and Raphael, the lady killer.
“You have a creepily good memory for detail, Satoshi,” Pete observed.
“Whatever. You have a plan to get this guy?”
“Of course I have a plan. . .”
* * *
After a day-long trek through the thick forest of Oregon, Raphael finally arrived at the closest place he had to a home.
He was battered, bruised, and broken from his travels. Our hero emerged from the evergreen forest on the edge of campus in the small hours of the morning, the night after Peter and Satoshi had spoken of his brother’s downfall over cards. Exhausted and weak, he stumbled into the dormitories, where he entered a familiar room on the first floor - that of Jack, who was up feeding his snakes.
Jack’s room was warm and, even at this hour, dimly lit to accommodate his reptilian friends. He had four snakes, who were about as friendly to one another as snakes are capable of being. The first, Raphael’s favorite, was an ancient and docile female garter snake, Rose, which Jack had discovered in a rosebush before he came to the school; all the others were gifts from his parents, who were apparently as eccentric as he.
The second reptile was a gigantic Burmese python which generally hung out on Jack’s bed, even when he was sleeping. Since his owner fed him well, he hadn’t made an attempt on Jack’s life - yet. As if to make reference to this fact, the python’s name was Teddy.
The third, Façade, was a scarlet kingsnake, the harmless look-alike of the deadly coral snake. This one preferred to stay in his tank, although Raphael recalled him often staring hungrily at Rose.
The last was an emerald tree boa which hung coiled in a tall tank from a branch of driftwood. Her eyes were, at the moment, a foggy gray - she was probably shedding. She was named, appropriately enough, Peridot.
The lady killer’s faithful companion glanced up from releasing a petite frog into Peridot’s tank.
“O my snakeherd!” Raphael cried suddenly, then clapped a hand over his mouth and glanced around, somewhat confused. “Sorry about that,” he said quietly, hoping he hadn’t awakened any sleeping students. “I don’t know where that came from.”
“No problem,” the snakeherd replied good-naturedly. Jack was of Mediterranean descent, and he had dark, curling hair and an olive complexion. He wore a black T-shirt and his smiley face boxers; he was, after all, supposed to be sleeping. He slipped past Raphael and closed the door behind him while Peridot feasted on the frog. “What’s going on?” he asked, a note of concern creeping into his voice. “You’re a mess, Raphie. I thought you weren’t coming back until the beginning of the term?”
As he looked around, taking in his friend’s menagerie with a kind of warm nostalgia, Raphael realized that Rose was nowhere to be seen. He replied to Jack’s question with one of his own. “Where’s Rosy?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“She died, Raphie,” Jack said, exasperated. “Two days before your birthday this past July. I think she missed you. In any case -”
“In any case?” Raphael cut him off, eyes wide. “What do you mean, in any case? Rose is dead?” He seemed shocked.
“Cool your jets, man, she was almost ten years old,” said the snakeherd, directing Raphael to sit in a snakeskin print beanbag. “It was her time to go.” Raphie sat down, the shocked look remaining on his face as if it were plastered there. “C’mon, man, answer me - what’s the deal?”
“I figured it was time to come home,” he said in a not-quite-here tone of voice. He snapped himself out of it shortly after. “Had a fight with my dad. . . I had to get out. It’s kind of a long story.” Raphael blinked, and began firing his own questions. “How’ve you been? I mean, how’s everyone been? You, Gabriel. . . Ellen. . .”
“Wait, wait. One at a time.”
“All right. You. How’ve you been, Jack?” Raphael smiled halfheartedly.
“Bored,” Jack replied with a shrug. “The school seems awfully quiet without you around. No one snoring on the quad. . .”
“I don’t snore,” the lady killer growled.
“Mmhmm. Anyway, go take a shower. You’re a mess, Raphie,” Jack said emphatically. “I’ll get some clean clothes for you from your room. I recommend you stay in my room for a couple of days. . . there’s a lot I should update you on.” Although he didn’t say it, he also knew that certain people wouldn’t be too happy to see his friend home so soon.
“Too tired,” Raphael replied decisively. “I’d collapse if I was forced to stand up long enough to shower.”
“. . . why?”
“I haven’t slept in two days, and I just ran here on foot from my home town, that’s why,” he growled. “I wouldn’t go up to my room if you told me to. . . I’d fall asleep walking up the stairs and break my neck.”
Jack stared for a moment, then sighed. “Okay, man. Try to get some sleep. I’ll run up to your room.”
“Fine.”
“Got your key?”
“It’s where it always is. . .” Raphael never carried his key with him, but left it under the door where a practiced swipe of a shirtsleeve could retrieve it.
“All right,” Jack said, opening his door. “You’d better be asleep by the- . . . Raphie?”
Raphael was already snoring gently on the beanbag. Now that Jack took a moment to study him, he noticed a gash - probably thorn-induced - above his right eyebrow. It matched a scar above his left quite neatly; this mark Jack had bestowed himself during a fencing match in their freshman year.
“Stupid Raphael,” Jack muttered as he stepped into the hallway, smiling a little in spite of himself. He was back. Now things were going to get interesting.
Chapter 5...................................................Taste of Home
Around eleven the next morning, Raphael returned from his shower. He looked quite a bit more like himself, and was dressed in his trademark sloppy version of the school uniform: blue, rough silk slacks, a half-buttoned (and those few crooked) white dress shirt with the sleeves bunched up beyond the elbows, and bare feet. His black silk tie still hung, untied, from his collar, and a hematite orb rolled lazily on his chest, dangling from a steel chain looped around his freckled neck. Jack had refused to tell him anything before he showered.
Raphael accepted the glass of mango juice that Jack had offered to him and sipped it gratefully, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “So, now that I’m all squeaky clean, tell me about what’s going on around here.”
The snakeherd settled down to update the lady killer on the situation. Teddy slithered lethargically across his lap. “You know Satoshi and Peter?”
“Yeah, unfortunately. What about them?”
“They’ve been up to something. I noticed them sitting out on the quad the night before last. I’m guessing they’re thinking up ways to snatch Ellen. . . they’ve been hanging around her a lot lately, too.”
Raphael, always one to savor his mango juice, downed the contents of his glass in one gulp when he heard this. “Didn’t quite catch that,” he said after he had stopped himself from choking. His throat burned from the acidic juice.
“They’re going after your girl,” Jack paraphrased.
“Ah. . . I see.”
“In any case, they’ve also been talking about Gabriel in a suspicious way. I think they’re planning to do something to him.”
“That’s just dandy, then,” Raphael said, tossing his head back with an exasperated sigh. Shortly thereafter, he stood up and dusted himself off, cracking his knuckles. “I’ll just have to teach them a lesson. They’ve had it coming to them for ages.”
Jack stood up as well, looking somewhat threatening with his python coiled around his body. “Hold it. After one day of being back, after running through miles of forest to get here, you’re going to take on two guys who’re bigger and stronger than you are?”
“Yes!” he cried, shoving Jack out of the way. His anger had given him strength, but the snakeherd knew it would be temporary. He slammed the door shut before Raphael could reach it and stood in front of it, barring his way.
“Wait,” Jack said, meeting Raphael’s manic gaze. “Just wait. For me, if not for yourself.”
For a moment, Raphael considered fighting his way past Jack, then realized that he couldn’t if he wanted to. Jack had a python draped over his shoulders. Jack was his friend.
“Sorry,” he muttered, sitting back in his beanbag.
“I bet you are,” Jack said, not moving from his place by the door. “Take it easy.”
“Right. . . I will.”
At that moment, a knock came at the door. “Who is it?” Jack called through the door.
“It’s Gabe,” a smooth voice, not unlike Raphael’s, replied. “Let me in. . . Jack.” From the pause, Raphael knew that his brother was well aware of his presence. Although the lady killer was less serious than his younger brother, he was no less intelligent. He nodded his consent to Jack, who opened the door just enough to allow the slim figure of Gabriel into the room. Once he had entered, he quickly snapped it shut.
Gabriel was fifteen years of age, but he was nearly as tall as his brother already. Raphael was forced to admit that his younger brother would end up being taller than he was. Gabe wore his hair in a short, reddish brown ponytail. His bangs had the irritating habit of hanging into his blue-gray eyes, which hid behind petite wireframed glasses. Gabriel’s skin was less pale than that of his father and his brother, and he hadn’t landed freckles in the genetic lottery. The “good brother” had on baggy jeans and, out of habit and possibly due to a lack of clean laundry, the same school-issue shirt which Raphael sported. His own shirt, however, was neatly buttoned, although the top two were left open in the August heat, sleeves neatly rolled up nearly to his elbows. Presently he stood with a hand on his hip, and sighed heavily.
“I don’t want to know,” he said with a tone of bitter exasperation. “I really don’t want to know.”
“Sure you do, kid,” Raphael replied with a grin, hair falling into his mischievous green eyes. “Miss me much?”
“Yes, actually,” Gabriel snapped, voice almost a snarl. “I expect that, if you had been around, those morons wouldn’t have framed me for cheating on the placement exam!”
“What?” Both Jack and Raphie uttered the word at the same time.
“You knew they were up to something, didn’t you?” he breathed, leaning against the wall and rubbing his forehead as if he had a migraine, which, incidentally, he had. “That was it. Uncle Ken’s told me to come to his office for a ‘chat.’ He’s going to expel me.” The headmaster of the school was the uncle of the brothers Wissen, the brother of Conner.
“Can I beat them up now?” Raphael asked Jack hopefully.
“No,” Jack replied before he even finished. “How did they manage that, Gabe?”
“How am I supposed to know?” Gabriel cried. “I’m living it, not making it up!”
“Well, listen,” Raphael said in a rational tone, actually putting his brain to work for once. “Go to his office and retake the test. How hard could it be, genius boy? Prove that they framed you by doing it all over again - a different version of the same test, if the headmaster doubts you that much.” He smirked, blowing his bangs out of his face. “Our uncle will be forced to expel them for framing you, and everyone’s problems will be over.”
Gabriel blinked and looked slightly surprised for a split second before matching his brother’s sly smile. “You read my mind, Raphie.”
“It’s a gift,” the elder replied, smile widening. “Now get out there and do your big brother proud, kid.”
“No problem,” the younger said, waving as he stepped out past Jack. “See you later, snake man!” he cried, loudly and deliberately from the hallway. In spite of himself, Raphael was proud of his scrawny little brother.
“So now we wait,” Jack said, setting Teddy down on the bed and strolling over to Façade’s tank. He removed a live mouse, red eyes darting about frantically, from a box next to the glass cage. The kingsnake’s eyes watched it, and his fangs closed around its still-wriggling form a moment after Jack had dropped it into the cage.
Raphael watched the feeding of the snake with fascination, then smiled, looking up at Jack. “Yeah. . . we wait.”
* * *
And they waited.
Raphael had started a staring contest with Peridot, to distract himself from thinking of Gabriel in the headmaster’s office, scrawling away on that test. His faith was waning. Usually, his younger brother finished tests like that in half the normal time. It was taking forever.
Peridot was winning.
“Will you cool off, Raphael?” Jack said, reading a book on snake care while Teddy coiled around his feet. “He’s doing fine, it’s just taking him a little while.”
“A little while? He’s been gone for three hours!” the lady killer cried. In his confinement, he hadn’t seen anyone but Jack and Gabriel. He had determined, in the past hour or so, that he was slowly going insane. Ellen’s room was just a floor above him, a few doors down, he knew, but he couldn’t see her, couldn’t hear that sweet alto voice of hers. Couldn’t poke fun at her for the baggy hoodie and purple nose stud, couldn’t get a taste of the mango lipgloss. . .
“It’s a long exam,” the snakeherd replied with a shrug. “Give him time.”
“I don’t HAVE time!” Raphael screamed, finally losing it completely. “How could you understand this, Jack? I was the one who made Ellen the Untouchable smile for the first time in years. I’m the one who broke her out of her shell, I’m the one she fell in love with! They’d take her away from me! How could you POSSIBLY understand that!?”
“Raphael-”
“SHUT UP!” Sick of this little room, sick of wasting his time, Raphie rushed towards the door before Jack could untangle his feet from his Burmese python. He burst out into the hallway, thankfully empty at this lunchtime hour, and ran outside. It was a beautiful, cloudless day. He felt compelled to tear the sun from the sky and shove it down Satoshi’s throat, but only after smearing its burning plasma all over Peter’s face.
Speak of the devils, they were standing behind a bench, leaning on the backrest. On the bench, Ellen.
Raphael stood there for a moment and took in his girlfriend as if he had never seen her before. Somewhat to his surprise, Ellen’s black sweatshirt was tied around her waist, and she wasn’t wearing her nose stud. She did wear a silver tank top and baggy black jeans hung with chains, rows of colored rings in each of her ears. Elle had long, straight, black hair with silver and purple dyed streaks (although he’d been trying to talk her into dying them back to black for ages) and glittering gray eyes. A year ago they had been stagnant and frozen. He had been able to break the surface. He had gotten through to Ellen the Untouchable. Standing there, seeing her for the first time in months, he felt himself fall in love with her all over again.
There they were, Peter and Satoshi, standing behind her, talking to her. Talking to her! Their nerve was unspeakable. Raphael didn’t take very much time to size them up. Both were dressed in jeans and T-shirts, unremarkable, uninteresting. Satoshi was a third generation Japanese immigrant, which was reflected in his features, and also was a bodybuilder, which was reflected in his physique. Peter was just about the most boring-looking kid Raphael had ever laid eyes upon - normal height, normal weight, brown hair, brown eyes. It was the smile on his face that put the lady killer into a state of rage. Always so cocky, always so sure that he’d never have to face consequences. He was about to get a rude awakening which he fully deserved.
First, he walked, then he broke into a run towards Elle. Once she saw him, her eyes were alight, but she didn’t stand up; all she could do was look and marvel at her Raphael, here before her after what seemed like an eternity of his absence.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Satoshi and Peter walked in front of her before she could get a word in.
“Well, look who’s back,” Satoshi crowed snidely.
Raphael glared. He didn’t feel like wasting his words on Satoshi.
“What, no hugs and kisses?” The bodybuilder laughed heartily, which just made Raphael want to hurt him even more. Unfortunately, he was increasingly aware of how bad the odds were. If Jack and Gabriel were here, he might have half a chance, but without them. . .
“Leave him alone, Satoshi.” Oh, that voice was music to Raphael’s ears. Low but feminine, deep but beautiful. . . to him, in any case. Ellen and Raphael had often argued about whether or not her voice was any good. Playfully, of course; the pair had never really been genuinely angry at one another.
“Shut up, Untouchable,” Peter snapped at her.
“Don’t you dare call her that,” Raphael growled.
“What, Untouchable?” Peter echoed. “Untouchable, Untouchable - oh, I forgot. . . Ellen *has* been pretty touchable this summer, Raphael. . .” That intolerable smirk. . .
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU SAYING!?” he screamed, grabbing Peter’s collar. Satoshi was too strong for him, but Raphael could take on Peter.
. . . or maybe not. The lady killer was flung backwards when Peter dealt him a blow to the jaw, landing roughly on the grass. He could hear the pair of devils laughing, but when he turned to face them he saw his brother and his uncle looming behind him. Raphael knew from Gabriel’s triumphant smirk that things would, very quickly, be just fine.
“Mr. Hiroaki! Mr. Rosencrantz!” the headmaster barked. He looked quite similar to his brother, aside from his darker hair and shorter stature. “First you frame one nephew for cheating on a test which, by the way, he aced without trying. . . and now you’re fighting the other? I must say that I’m quite relieved to be rid of you! My office! Now!”
“But -” Both perpetrators uttered the objection at once.
“NOW!” Headmaster Wissen proceeded to drag both students from the quad by their wrists. Meanwhile, Raphael rose from his prone position with a pained grin.
“You did good, kid,” he addressed Gabriel.
“Of course I did,” the younger brother replied. “You alright, big guy? That looked like one mother of a punch.”
“I’ll live,” Raphael replied with a shrug. “Hey, uh. . . why don’t you go tell Jack the good news?”
“But he can see from his - . . . ooh,” he said, understanding at a raised eyebrow from his brother and a glance to Ellen. “Right. News. Excellent. I’ll be going, then.” Gabriel dashed to the dormitories, out of sight and out of mind.
Raphael smirked in spite of the swollen feeling in his jaw and turned back to Ellen. “Miss me much, sweet thing?” he asked, his sweet tenor coated with sugar and honey.
“More than I’ll let you know,” she said, matching his smirk. “I’ve heard tell that a kiss can cure minor afflictions,” she mused, seemingly off the cuff.
“Is that so?” Raphael said in an interested tone, sitting next to her and nonchalantly draping an arm around her shoulder. “I’d love to see if there’s any truth to that,” the lady killer said with a sigh, as if the date of such a finding was far and distant.
“Give me a moment,” she said, taking a tub of orange-colored lipgloss from her pocket and applying it with one pale finger to her full, pink lips.
“I’m surprised you didn’t lose it,” Raphael said with a smile.
“Lose it? Never,” she replied, grinning. “Not until you make me especially mad, anyway.”
“Moi?” he asked, eyes wide with mock surprise.
“Shut up.” Lips closing over his own forced silence upon him.
Finally. . . Raphael the lady killer was home.
.......................................................................................Fin
. . . actually, now that I think of it, I think I can post them in the right order so long as they're all on the same day. Anyway, I'll work with it. xD
I will now post the story in reverse order, that it may be read in the correct order. xD Sorry if you've had trouble searching for chapters.
. . . . . entries for 18.4.04 . . . . .
So, tomorrow we have school. Incidentally, temperatures are supposed to break 80 tomorrow. Huzzah! ^.^ Warmness. I look forward to it.
The unfortunate thing about blogging, I have decided, is that you have to be at a computer to do it. And if you're at a computer, you're going to write about computer-related things. This makes me appear more geeky than I actually am. xD
But I digress - on an interesting and non-computer related note, Sir Charles dropped me a line from Nashville last night. The guys and gals from Seton generally did well in the vocal competition there, and Charlie got an Outstanding Soloist award. Again. So now he's two for two.
He usually speaks pretty normally over the phone, but occasionally his voice drops to such a soft level that I can hardly hear him. xD Probably when he doesn't want anyone else to hear what he's saying, although I can't imagine why. I find this endearing, in spite of myself.
He should have kidnapped me for break. -.- It would have been more interesting than staying here, I think. . . besides Mitchell's party, that was pretty damn interesting.
If Sean, Max, or. . . or that guy I don't know. . . sorry. xD Anyway, if any of you guys read this, know that you are flagrantly moronic. But we love you anyway, so don't feel too bad about it. ::pats Max on the shoulder:: I hope you're done being humiliated.
. . . yeah, they took a walk. Without telling anyone. And got lost. ::sigh:: Brilliant young men all. We were all incredibly worried. And Mitchell just got pissed, but Mitchell. . . o.O is an angry young man.
Blogger doesn't let me preview template changes anymore. -.- It pisses me off. Oh well. . .
"I like your voice. It's cool. It's like a creampuff on man steroids." ~Elle
xD! Thank you, Ellen.
w007! I feel so bright. xD I figured out how to record my voice on my computer. I have this nifty program called Sound Studio pre-installed. Rejoice!
So yeah. It's also the last day before I have to go back to school. o.O I must do my math homework and finish the tale of the beloved Raphael. . . mwahahaha.
. . . . . entries for 17.4.04 . . . . .
. . . I do not think I'm chaotic neutral. xD I do not think I am chaotic neutral at all.
You Are A:
Chaotic Neutral Elf Bard
Alignment:
Chaotic Neutral characters are unstable, and frequently insane. They believe in disorder first and foremost, and will thus strive for that disorder in everything they do. This means that they will do whatever seems 'fun' or 'novel' at any given time.
Race:
Elves are the eldest of all races, although they are generally a bit smaller than humans. They are generally well-cultured, artistic, easy-going, and because of their long lives, unconcerned with day-to-day activities that other races frequently concern themselves with. Elves are, effectively, immortal, although they can be killed. After a thousand years or so, they simply pass on to the next plane of existance.
Primary Class:
Bards are the entertainers. They sing, dance, and play instruments to make other people happy, and, frequently, make money. They also tend to dabble in magic a bit.
Secondary Class:
Detailed Results:
Alignment:
Law and Chaos:
Law ----- (-2)
Neutral - XXXXXX (6)
Chaos --- XXXXXXXXXXX (11)
Good and Evil:
Good ---- X (1)
Neutral - XX (2)
Evil ---- (-3)
Race:
Human ---- XXXXX (5)
Half-Elf - XXXXXXXXX (9)
Elf ------ XXXXXXXXXXXXXX (14)
Gnome ---- XXX (3)
Halfling - (-4)
Dwarf ---- (0)
Half-Orc - (-4)
Class:
Fighter -- XXX (3)
Barbarian -X (1)
Ranger --- XXXXXXXXXX (10)
Monk ----- XXXXXXXXX (9)
Paladin -- XXXXX (5)
Cleric --- XXXXXXX (7)
Mage ----- XXXXX (5)
Druid ---- XXXXX (5)
Thief ---- (-4)
Bard ----- XXXXXXXXXX (10)
. . . . . entries for 16.4.04 . . . . .
Eeeyah! Yes, I woke up before 8:00 today of my own free will. . . actually, no, NOT of my own free will. My leg is all crampy and I'm jumping around, twitching like a maniac, trying to get it to stop. But it won't.
And today is the day of Mitchell's birthday party. o.O When is it!? I think it's at eleven but I'm not sure, and like the brilliant child I am I forgot to get him a present. . . so I think I'm gonna rip out a sheet from one of Cassie's old sketchbooks and do a watercolor thing. Being a good artist is handy, because if I wasn't. . . I'd be screwed right now. o.O
If ANYONE reads this, please call me and tell me what time the damned party is. I forgot all about it until I woke up with this accursed cramp this morning.
. . . . . entries for 14.4.04 . . . . .
. . . ::blink blink:: Memegen knows all.
xD . . . wow. Memegen is amusing today.
Oh, sweet Jesus. xD HOW DID YOU KNOW!?
By far the most accurate assessment. xD
Heheh. . . hahahaa!
I tried this with quite a few of my names and handles, but I like this one the best. . . heh. xD
Damn blogger isn't publishing. . . work, curse you! ::kicks blogger::
. . . . . entries for 11.4.04 . . . . .
Click here, loves. Go on, do it for me. xD You know you want to!
So yeah. Good Easter for Erin. And a whole bloody week to do. . . homework. ::growls::
Oh my goodness. I don't even know what to say.
Wait, yes I do. Oboes are sexy.
And beyond that, I met a vampire today! Huzzah! My folks and I went up to the Adirondacks for Easter dinner, and one of our waitpeople was from Transylvania. xD He was not your stereotypical vampire, however. He had a pretty accent, blonde hair and blue eyes. And he was a fifth year computer science student vying for a place at the prestigious RPI. ^.^ What an awesome vampire.
. . . . . entries for 10.4.04 . . . . .
xD I signed on for the SOLE PURPOSE of blogging. I was distracted by Charlie's crazy Catholic boy talk. ::glares:: . . .
Anyway, yeah. For English, we have to read a biography of someone we consider a hero. So I went through the possibilities - I could do a hero of art, of literature, of music. Those were the obvious ones.
But no!! I'm reading a biography on Chingis-Khan. NO! Not Ghengis or Gengis! It's Chingis, damn it! And you know why? I'll tell you why!
Gengis is the proper French spelling, and it apparently spread into the English language via the channels of Hollywood. But it is NOT the proper English spelling! Chingis is! I'm gonna start running rampant on Google and correcting EVERY LAST GHENGIS OR GENGIS SITE!! . . . in English! Not in French, 'cause they're actually right.
Anyway, I only got through the introduction so far. It's amazing, because it's written in my style. o.O Overly complex sentences with lots of verbs and objects applying to one subject. Do I write French? Maybe I do.
Also, the introduction was basically a mini-biography of the man who wrote the book - Ren? Grousset, a spectacular French historian who specialized in writing about the Far East. It was written by a man who must have been somewhat younger than Grousset, but still his contemporary, in a sense, because he referenced Grousset as he knew him every couple of paragraphs. At this point, I'm about as interested in Ren? as I am in Chingis, which is saying something. His writing style is also somewhat like mine, only much, much better. It's informative, certainly, but very poetic. Statistics and facts are thrown in at such a time as not to ruin the flow of his writing. (As you can see from this mess of a paragraph, I haven't mastered that yet. xD)
So, so, yeah. Rock on with the Ren?-ness.
And happy almost Easter. ^.^
. . . . . entries for 8.4.04 . . . . .
Added an awesome sheet music site that I use for midi tech. I arranged a song in the Chrono Cross section entitled Time's Scar (using the duet sheet music). Check it out, it's pretty cool. Especially you crazy piano-playing people. . .
I'm actually blogging from midi tech. I have nothing better to do. xD
. . . . . entries for 7.4.04 . . . . .
The fortune teller at Neopets has informed me of the following, and I quote:
"You will misplace somebody else's trousers at the Space Station."
. . . . . entries for 6.4.04 . . . . .
It has been brought to my attention that I've stopped blogging. Hmmm. . . this could be because my life is a petite and extremely exclusive piece of hell lately. Presently I am writing my adaptation of the Odyssey for modern times. Heheh. . . here be the prologue/first chapter. Guess which book of the Odyssey it's from?
(by the by - the title of the first chapter isn't just for my own amusement. try to figure it out. really. I thought it was quite clever.)
(another parenths comment: the story was omitted from this post 'cause the whole thing us up in readable order closer to the top. :) enjoy.)
come home?
.:people:.
{ting}
she looks like the real thing
{mari}
out and about
[kelsey]
THIS IS AMERICA
{yianni}
stop being depressed
{alisa}
other
[shannon]
close and far
{frank}
islands where no islands should go
[cassie]
eating knowledge
{colin}
my dm
[emily]
shoulder to the wheel
[brian]
nostalgic for fantasy
[nicole]
industry insider
{elle}
angry enviro
[matt]
never heard of miyazaki
[pirate dan]
are you reading this?
[olga]
distracted
[messiah dan]
messiah/believer
{max}
approach focus
[natalie]
wait a minute
[susan]
solitude
{greg}
manbeargreg
.:past:.
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.:skin:.
turtles! turtles! by araglas
(heavily modified by yours truly)