Ping is now known as _Ping_
<Mese> Its the first day of the new school year, and the car park outside the school gates writes with smog and bad tempers.
<Mese> As cars and buses jostle for position, amid the clashing cacophony, a small trickle of pedestrians weave their way through.
<Mese> Ping, Ophelia and Cole all walked in today; they just met up on the street a few minutes ago.
JP has left #MH_nar (Leaving)
pigeon is now known as Cole
<Mese> The school is practically a fortress. A black, spiky fence runs around the whole grounds. Grey, overcast skies do little to illuminate the architecture.
<Mese> A cold wind is up, chafing cheeks raw. The humans hunch themselves against it and stare angrily at the sky.
<Mese> A teacher observes the general chaos without much interest. The bell for homeroom and the day's first lessons won't be sounded for fifteen minutes yet.
_Ping_ strolls in, dressed for the cold but not feeling it, her long blond hair flowing in the wind and her cheeks rosey
_Ping_ looks over at Ophelia, and then at Cole
ophelia walks in, stepping aside as a car almost sideswipes her, and flipping them off as they drive away.
_Ping_ raises an eyebrow at Ophelia
<Mese> Past the angry snarl of the car park lie the gates; closed, they'd bar a forbidding archway in crumbling brick and concrete, formed by a concourse between two of the main buldings. But the gates are open, and beyond them lies the quad - a central, open courtyard space of drab greys and carefully controlled greenery, forming the clearing around which the buildings cluster.
Cole walks through the gate quickly, stepping around and through the crowd of people. Her back straight, she glances around at the crowd, then sets about finding her new locker.
<Mese> Lockers line all the ground floor hallways in grim ranks of institutional colours. Theoretically, they're organised by year, then alphabetically; but such plans never survive first contact with the enemy. I mean, the students.
<Mese> Cole's new locker, 429, is dented; looks as if someone has given it a good sharp kick. The lock turns but, due to the warped metal, doesn;t actually secure anything; the door instead just hangs limply, rattling slightly as people brush past.
_Ping_ stops next to Cole, looks at the locker, and sighs. She says, 'I think the one next to mine is unassigned.' She is just guessing though, but its a safe bet.
<Mese> Ophelia has been assigned locker 666, on the other side of the hall. Some previous student, presumably taking religous exception, has scratched the number to near-illegibility. Presumably some other student is responsible for the inverted pentagram etched into the inside door. The lock works, though.
<Mese> Ping's locker is part of a bank of apparently new ones, and is undamaged and perfectly functional.
Cole frowns at the damaged locker, glancing sidelong at Ping, then shrugs and nods to her. "Where's yours?"
<ophelia> "This place is so grim," Ophelia says to nobody in particular, and eyes the locker number with irritation, but inside she trembles a little, glancing over her shoulder to make sure she's not being watched.
<Mese> Another girl giggles loudly, over by 669. "Ophelia got the locker of the BEAST! OO Oooo OOOO?"
_Ping_ leads Cole over to her locker and points out /all/ the empty new ones surrounding hers
<ophelia> She flips the combination lock... realizing as it falls open in her hand that the numbers form the date on which she made her Dark Contract.
<_Ping_> "A girl could think this was a hint."
<ophelia> "Shut up," she says to the giggling girl.
Cole picks, after a moment of hesitation, the locker next to Ping's, and opens it up to stow her books and things. The panoply of lolcats, pictures of guys, and funny sayings that in previous years had adorned the inside of her locker are nowhere to be seen. However, she does tape a mirror to the inside of the door, and gaze at it levelly for a moment before closing the locker.
<Cole> "Thanks," she says to Ping.
_Ping_ stows some thick old books into her locker, attaches a thick masterlock, and turns to Cole. She mutters, 'No biggie.'
<Mese> The girl scowls at Ophelia and makes little devil horns with her fingers, but then turns and walks off.
Cole has a worn padlock of her own that she claps onto the door. She still has her violin case with her, and nods to the other girls, then heads towards the music room.
<Mese> The music department doesn;t get enough funding, so the music room (ground floor building A, second door on your left from the south entrance) is a bit overcrowded; but there is space to store your instruments.
Cole drops off her violin, then glances at the seating, noting with a grimace that she is still second violin.
<Mese> Mr. Ryers, the school's main music teacher and band conductor, is pottering around the room, straightening music stands and the like. He doesn't seem to acknowledge Cole.
<Cole> "Mr. Ryers?"
<Mese> "Hmm? Oh, hello Cole! Have you been practicsing this summer?"
<Cole> "I have been, yes. I notice that I'm still second violin."
<Mese> "Yes, Cole. You know I've always believed in you, but I've been looking for a bit more commitment, hmm?"
<Mese> Mr. Ryers smiles and raises his eyebrows as he says this.
<Mese> He doesn't seem to blink much.
<Cole> "Commitment." Cole smooths down the fabric of her shirt, keeping her eyes on Mr. Ryers's. "What exactly can I do to demonstrate my commitment to the orchestra, Mr. Ryers?"
<Mese> Mr. Ryers stares back at Cole for a long moment, and then does that little half-laugh, half-cough thing he does. "Mhmmm. Well, perhaps I could... if you have been practicing; we could run auditions for the position? Next week, perhaps."
Cole smiles. "Sounds fair. Thanks, Mr. Ryers!" She nods goodbye, and heads back to the quad.
<Mese> Ophelia watches as Cole emerges from the music room, followed shortly by Mr. Ryers, adjusting his collar and looking slightly flushed.
Cole sits on a stone bench and begins busily writing something in a notebook, occasionally looking around thoughtfully.
<ophelia> She walks over to Cole. "So what's the deal with Ryers?" she asks
Cole stops and looks up. "Nothing. We were just talking about auditions for first violin, that's all."
<ophelia> "It didn't LOOK like just talking," Ophelia prods
Cole keeps her eyes on Ophelia for a few moments. "Why are you so curious?"
<ophelia> "Cause you're my friend, and I don't want you getting hurt." /and you better not screw up your life too badly because it cost too much to get back/ she thinks.
<Cole> "Well, I appreciate you being concerned...this time." Cole's sardonic gaze holds for a moment before she drops it back to her notebook.
<ophelia> "Yeah, sure," Ophelia says, feeling like she shouldn't have said anything.
<Cole> "Hey, I could use your help later, though. I have to make some posters. Are you busy after school?"
<ophelia> Seeing the opportunity to fix her misstep, Ophelia shakes her head. "Naw, I've got nowhere to be. What're they for?"
<Cole> "Elections. I'm going to run for president this year."
<ophelia> "President? Why would you want to do that? I mean, not that you wouldn't make a great president."
Cole seems slightly taken aback by this question, but responds, "Well, it'll look good on my college applications. And besides, Julie is a terrible president. She didn't even get the pizza party right last year. Half of the pizzas were just cheese."
<Cole> "I can do better."
End of #MH_nar buffer Mon Feb 27 04:39:13 2012
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