Post by Layne F. Larkin on Jan 14, 2011 15:45:16 GMT -5
Layne was tense as fuck. Shit, she needed a drink. She hadn't slipped down to the greenhouses since that last time, when she met Hero. Shit. She'd told herself she wasn't going to think about that fucktard today. The asshole had picked Micha, the frigid bitch ice queen, over her. What the fuck could he possibly see in her? That bitch was cold to everyone, except her cat. The relationship between Micha and her cat was just fucking weird. Sure, Layne loved Jett, but she didn't coddle him like a goddamn baby.
Actually, Layne almost never let Jett out of his cage, because she was fucking terrified that someone's cat or owl or falcon or dog or snake would eat him. Maybe it hadn't been the best decision, getting a black rat, instead of something useful, or at least something that other people's pets wouldn't see as food, but she couldn't resist. There was just something about Jett that Layne had loved from the start. Besides, the look on her mother's face had been priceless, as she'd held the cage away from her, like it smelled bad, and asked Layne, "You want that?"
But enough about Jett. She was here to get shitfaced. She'd been sneaking pulls down in her commandeered bedroom in the dungeon (Layne had attitude about sharing a room, especially now with that man-stealing Micha bitch), but drinking in the dungeons was depressing. Besides, the greenhouses were an excellent hiding spot in this weather. No one would want to trudge through the snow on the ground now, but the greenhouses themselves were quite warm. And, of course, she couldn't let such a great spot go to waste just because it reminded her of some jackass she didn't even give a shit about anymore.
Only, when she got there, she found a big fucking mess. She hid the bottle in her coat. Fuck! Was the professor here? "Hello?" she called, hoping that it was just someone who, like her, just wanted a place to hang around for a while. When she heard the voice of the boy, she went toward the noise. "Who the fuck are you?" she demanded, cross that she'd been so worried, only to find a stupid boy having a smoke. "Just, whatever you do, don't cast any fucking spells in here. These plants go completely batshit crazy around magic."
[/i] plant! What the fuck did it think it was doing anyway? Was there some sort of prize for collecting the most shit from the students? Was there some secret hidden hoard of all things valuable? Some hoard of music players and headphones and pot and of jewels galore? Skeeter half narrowed his eyes, clambering up onto his knees and pushing to stand with both palms face down against the dirty floor; eyeing his foliage skeptically. Were his own shoots, beneath the mandrake shelves, competing against him? Were they, too, aiming to make complete and utter fun of him? Well, screw that bullshit.
He could take some genetically mutated vegetation, anyday.
Whilst he was busy, occupied with the uncomfortable groping of the ratenacula roots and their constant persistance to drag both he and his headphones kicking and screaming into the pit of its brittle soil stomach, some one... some one odd entered the greenhouse. She slipped in so quietly, he barely noticed. Had he not spotted a particularly thick tentacle of the green coiling around his make-shift watering-can bong in the corner and jumped over to save it, he might have noticed her. Had he been able to read her, he might even have been offended by her inner monologue's arrogant insistence that he was a 'stupid' boy. Skeet was no such thing. Skeeter always made his classes and for the most part made straight grades.
Almost feeling his feet leave the ground, toes dangling as he clutched the can to his chest and yanked away from the plant, he finally paid her some attention. Oh... What.... Unusual hair.....
A root tickled his cheek.
What unusual hair she had....
Blinking to clear the haze, Skeet stared straight at her multi-tonal locks with wide, open eyes. It was strangely enchanting. "Oh-kaay... but the flowers started it..." His voice trailed slightly, irish-british accent fading with what little attention he paid to her words but only to her hair. And then, more suddenly than he realised, the Gryffindor almost frowned. "Skeeter," with a reluctant move to look her in the face (not the fringe), he flashed her as a wide a grin as he could muster, thoroughly overjoyed with this abrupt little meeting. "Who the fuck are you?" He continued to beam, tapping his fingers against his wrist with his right hand as he repeated her words with as replicated a tone as her original question.[/ul]
Teagan Offline: This board is full of nostalgia.
Aug 22, 2020 8:39:09 GMT -5
Missing the old MH: gotta say missing when MH and all that was around.
Nov 6, 2019 0:02:30 GMT -5
Willow_lazy: why tf are there 400 posts about adidas
Sept 6, 2018 17:35:57 GMT -5
Azrael: I'm not hard to find, since I'm the only one there who goes by "Azzy", I'm pretty sure. XD
Feb 10, 2018 16:44:41 GMT -5
Azrael: Dunno if anyone still pops by here from time to time, but if any of you mofos do and still feel like gettin' yo nerd on, I've been hanging around this here place a bunch recently: www.roleplayerguild.com/
Feb 10, 2018 16:44:10 GMT -5
Azrael: hold onto your pantaloons
Jul 25, 2016 5:16:43 GMT -5