Literary endeavors

[Braonan Mac Cionnath]

For Your Consideration
"I am selfish, I am wrong,
Pawns: Braonan Mac Cionnath, Danara Alexendrei, so far. ^^
I am right. I swear I'm right,
Status: open, active
I swear I knew it all along.
Setting: Library, different parts.
I am flawed, but I am cleaning up so well,
Scene: Braonan is currently in the Library, seeking out some quiet time.
And I am seeing in me now the things you swore you saw yourself..."

Braonan looked around the library as he entered. There were a few scattered students, studying in small groups, comfortably seated on the plush, over-stuffed armchairs and reading. Mostly, they were all quiet. Good, just the way I like it. He smiled softly to himself. His lips curved gently, turning the chill of the forbidding expression into the warmth of a smile. The sharp planes of his face looked less like an attacking warrior, and more like the poetic scholar he was. The angles of his face suited that of the bard, with a full sensual mouth set off by a chiseled jaw and cheekbones.

Finding a small table that was near the window he sat down and spread his work out around him to discourage anyone thinking that he may want company. He'd already had quite a few students off to "help" with the grading, and he had been forced to show his extreme disapproval. As he settled in he worked his way through the homework assignments methodically. Working his way through them slowly but surely, his mind started to wander. His eyes traveled over the students he could see through the window. They were walking around the courtyard, laughing, and joking around, throwing a ball of some kind in the crisp, clean air of the mountains. He looked out towards the encircling ring of mountains that closed them off from the rest of the world. It was a nice fall this year. The trees that weren’t evergreens were getting tinges of color on their leaves now. Touches of russet, gold and brass were scattered all across the landscape. Like a painter had just touched his brush to the colors and smudged, ever so slightly, here and there upon the trees of the mountainside.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he forced a smile onto his face. Best to avoid any problems, he thought grimly.

Focusing back on the papers, the intense look that he always seemed to have in place slowly slid back into place. An hour or so later, and he was done. He truly enjoyed the time where he could just sit and not think about anything. Looking at the clock, he realized he only had about an hour left before the library closed. Tossing his red grading marker back in his messenger bag, he closed the papers back into the folder for the teacher and slid that into the bag as well. Slinging the fairly full bag over his shoulder, he decided to take a walk around the library, and see what everyone else was doing. He may not have been a librarian, but he was the intern to the Literary teacher, and they would expect him to keep an eye on thing.

His long, lanky frame moved around the tables with practiced ease, that of long familiarity with sharp corners, and what they could do to knobby knees and elbows. Catching a few looks here and there, he waved where it was appropriate, and smiled whenever it was expected.

[Danara Alexandrei]

She turned the corner into the wide open doors with the world at her heels. Danara was always in some sort of a hurry, even if it was just a hurry to get to the next day. She slid around the people gathered in their small, quiet clumps and over to the shelf she needed, knowing exactly where she wanted to be. A few steps onto a nearby chair elevated her to the right height to acquire the book she wanted to reach for, although the use of the furniture in that particular way was nothing short of disrespectful. Her arms were bear and her tank top was tight, and if someone were paying a little too much attention, it might become apparent that she hadn't bothered to put a bra on today. Her long legs were caught in tight black jeans that were at least kind enough to be quiet while she shuffled her legs back and forth in her almost jogging jaunt. Her dark eyes flitted with a hint of predator's stare, and she managed to cause only a little ruckus while in the library when she moved a chair a few inches backward with a smooth motion while another student was going to sit down.

A moment at the counter, with the student librarian glaring at her over her glasses got Dani a book, and she smiled somewhat of a large, unnerving smile at the girl across the counter. It wasn't that Danara was oft picking fights in such a blatant manner so much as she had spent the entire day walking the wall last night with no signs of escape. She was particularly hostile today, which was oozing off of her in a fairly tangible black aura. It didn't help that she had avoided sleep with her exploration because of a distinct want not to go back to that damn world again, and she was running on an energy drink and all the hate she could muster--which was plenty this day in age. Dani pushed her fingers through her strands of hair and alleviated them from her face, stepping backwards two steps while still keeping eye contact with the student librarian, who was doing her best to keep her spine straight. After a few more steps, Danara turned from her and bounced to the back section of the library, where she promptly stared at the only occupying cat in this territory. Braonan.

A brief glance told her that the boy wasn't a student, though he wasn't much older, she supposed. He was lacking the physical definition that came with age--his body wasn't starting to whither and his eyes weren't that exhausted hue that all the staff members seemed to have from staying up too late at night worrying over all the children and their own fates. She didn't recognize him off hand--apparently, she wasn't in his class set. That wasn't terribly uncommon, but it was more likely that she was in his class set and she didn't bother to go to his class. Literature papers, it looked like, so that would explain it--classes were pretty tight around here, most kids knew most the teachers and vice versa, but Danara never showed up to literature or English classes--they were too easy to do on her own to justify her waste of time. She clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth and then flopped onto the couch nearby and opened the book.

[Braonan Mac Cionnath]

Having found a neat, and completely deserted little nook in a corner of the library, Bray settled down into one of the comfortable armchairs that were set into easy conversation areas. He picked a book at random from his bag, this one was on modern warfare and military as compared to ancient warfare methods. Opening it to the page he’d been reading previously, he curled one leg up under him and settled in to read.

A short while later, his concentration was broken as he sensed someone enter the area. He kept his eyes on his book, hoping they would leave if he ignored them. Noticing the person had sat down in the couch off to the right of him, he looked up. The person, a young girl, probably one of the high school’s students was sitting in the couch, a book open on her lap. His brow lifted as he noticed the devil-may-care look that seemed to fit perfectly upon her face. She was beautiful, in a sharp and deadly kind of way. The way a newly sharpened knife was to a master chef. The tight tank top and jeans seemed to be more painted on her skin than worn clothing. He wondered what she had done, what had caused her to become so against the world.

Like usual, his mind drifted off as he thought about what made people tick, what made them choose their path in life. He wished desperately for the ability to illustrate what he saw when he looked at people. What lied beneath the thin veneer that was humanity that often would crawl and creep through any thin cracks that would show. Just like weeds coming up through breaks in concrete. It was inevitable, those cracks, just like what was bound to show up sooner or later.

As he thought about all those inspiring things, his eyes blurred, becoming unfocused, the startling cobalt drifting into something more dreamy. His eyelids drifted down, and he started playing with the pencil, running it in between his hands, the book lying forgotten on his lap. Staring unintentionally at her feet moving while she read, he wondered if she always had that much energy, and where she found it. Did she use that energy in everything, where did it come from? Some kind of inner speed? Or maybe it was what got her through the endless days here? What made her tick?

[Danara Alexandrei]

The short stories flipped by in front of her quickly, absorbed page by page in a matter of minutes. She kept her body relaxed with her hair flippantly attempting to invade her vision and being subsequently ignored. Her deep, dark eyes slid back and forth beneath thick lashes as they took in the words, and only after the third or fourth page did she realize the dizzy dreamer was looking her way. It was almost unsettling when she noticed, since Danara took any wayfarer look as the most common: a look of lust. It wasn't that she wasn't empathetic, or didn't acknowledge that there were those who might possibly not see her that way, but they were few and far between, and she preferred to err on the side of proportion rather than over-analyze what reasons people had to stare through her.

She switched her feet to be crossed the other way and went back to reading for a moment, noticing that his stare drifted off. Dani shook her head a bit and shifted down into the soft cushions she had taken refuge upon and began the quick flipping of pages again. Horror stories were quite engaging, but they were by no means a difficult read.

A boy nearby whispered her name to his friends. Her slightly spritish ear nearly quirked in his direction as she aimed to tune in. Someone was whispering those rumors again--the ones about her being a whore. Trying desperately, she figured, to get up the nerve to come ask her and talking himself out of it because she was near a teacher. It wasn't long until the rumors started to involve Mr Mac Cionnath, either. The way the name tripped off the tongue of the boy who was using it, she suspected the teacher or teacher's aid didn't insist on his last name in whatever class he participated in. Or maybe the boy talking rumors was just a bit of a dunce and couldn't wrap his tongue around Irish names.

[Braonan Mac Cionnath]

Braonan admired the way she seemed to almost inhale the book. The way she read was vary interesting, quick careless swipes of the fingertips, the pages having so little time to settle before another page was turned upon them. It was obvious she was actually reading them, but it seemed like only a small portion of her mind was paying attention to what was actually on the pages. More like she was focusing on what was bare bones, and fleshing the rest out from memory. Admittedly, as he glanced at the cover, they were just simple short stories of horror. It's not like you needed every brain cell to focus on the meanings and the mechanics of the writing. Unlike Steinbeck. He grimaced as he remembered they would shortly be starting the "Grapes of Wrath" in class this week. Not that he didn't admire the amazing subjective detail that he wrote with, his illustrative skill with the pen was second to an extreme few. But, you couldn't read Steinbeck half-assedly. And he knew there were far too many students who would have no idea what kind of an experience they were in for. He started to smile as he realized how Steinbecks gasping run-on sentences would screw up the entire idea behind sentence mechanics for weeks.
As his mood started to lift thinking about the students who would be ridiculously confused, he heard whispering, bringing his attention back to the scene at hand. he cocked his head slightly, keeping his eyes on the leg of the couch where his gaze had shifted while in deep thought. As the whispers became clearer he could make out a few distinct words, and he didn't like what he heard. A flood of anger welled up. Who the fuck did they think they were? His eyes shifted to the girl on the couch, her fingers weren't flipping nearly as fast as they had been. Looking at the wall, attempting to calm himself down, he placed his book on the table, without marking his place. The red was starting to fill his sight. Flexing his fists, and breathing slowly in and out helped to stem the tide of rage. How dare they talk about him, or her for that matter. They were insolent, unintelligent, grasping brats. Looking out of the corner of his eyes, he put together the identities of the boys, and thought how to deal best with the situation.
"Michaels, St. Laurent, O-Hara. Get over here. Now." The authoritative tone snapped the boys into action as they realized they'd been overheard.They hurriedly grabbed their books, and stuffing them into their backpacks, walked over to the conversation area with bright red cheeks, and the humiliating stain of being caught locked upon all their faces."What business do you have here?" he looked at each of the boys, knowing the answer they would all give. "Working on our Composition Essay teacher aid." The lead boy replied, a haughty tone of voice coloring his words with obvious distaste. "Really? That's good. Too bad it's not what you should be working on. After grading your previous Expository Essays, you're all failing. You now have two days to each turn in a 5000 word essay about gossip, and the inevitable bad luck that comes with it. Especially when you're caught. And, before you go and ask Professor Steele, or the Headmaster, for that matter, think about this. How would they react to what came out of your mouths? I guarantee this will be far less punishment than they will mete out. Now run along. And, if I ever hear you asking, saying, repeating, anything of that, or something like it? I'll personally drag you through hell." He smiled as he said the last bit, a smile that convinced at least two of the boys that they were going to sew their mouths shut for a week. His eyes glinted, a cruelty spreading through them as he wondered if the ringleader would try it. he stared at the boys as they walked out of the library, their bags heavy on their shoulders as they thought of their new assignment.
He shook his head as the mood passed, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he turned to the young girl on the couch. While not smiling, his eyes seemed to convey both mischief and amusement as he stared down at her. "Is this a usual sort of thing?" he asked quietly. he didn't want to upset her, he'd had quiet enough for one day already,and this one definitely seemed like you'd have the explosion before the ticking was ever heard.

[Danara Alexandrei]

Danara's eyes flicked up at the man at the table as his voice boomed over the quiet room. She watched the vivid expressions play over his face with a slight amusement in her dark, coal black eyes. He wore everything on the edge of his sleeve, emotions blazing and bright like an Irishman would be expected to. She watched the boys each walk up like cattle-prodded infants, half shuffling, half hurrying, and all eyes were on them now. There wasn't a single person in the room who hadn't stopped what they were doing--even if there were only the librarian and the scattered one or two kids mucking about doing their homework. Everyone was leaning in now, curious about the fiasco about to go down.

He spoke quietly, but firmly, and his threat at their grades was enough to turn one of the boys a deep shade of purple. She suspected he did fairly well in class, and the idea that he would be reduced to failing caused him quite a bit of discomfort. She could tell he wanted to backtalk, to step up, but the other two weren't, and so he kept himself quiet. As the conversation continued, and the teacher's aid laid out exactly why he was doing it in such a finely packaged and prettily-ribboned assignment, one twitched. She couldn't stop herself from grinning, and as such, brought her book up in front of her face. While this would no doubt bring them to her doorstep later to bother her, she couldn't bring herself to worry enough to care.

They shuffled out after the confrontation, the one whispering frantically at his friends while the other two told him to shut up. All muttered worries about his grade and his situation, while the others tried to keep their heads on straight and seem perfectly stoic in the face of their utter humiliation. Danara caught one looking back and smiled, though he didn't smile back today. Being privy to his scowl only made her all the more amused by the situation at hand, but the voice brought her back to reality. The teacher's aid was addressing her now. She dropped the book to her chest and glanced up at him with a quirked eyebrow above her left eye, "Yeah. It happens. Though usually nobody decides to ride up on a white horse and slap the other misbehaving knights with a sword." She spoke quietly, but not in a whisper. Everyone was getting back to their studies now, and she didn't want to drag their attention back.

"You just cemented yourself in quite a rumormill, you know. They'll have everyone thinking we're riding reverse cowgirl in the park by morning." Her smirk was almost dark, considerably taunting, and very smug. It wasn't rude that she was being, but she was certainly good at being blunt and portraying on her face that she had little to no care for the reputations that were about to be sullied--not hers nor his. She switched her feet around, crossing the other under instead for a change in position, "May as well know my name, then, or they'll think you're just a pretty face with the hots for little girls." But she wasn't about to just give it to him. He'd have to ask first.

[Braonan Mac Cionnath]

Braonan watched as the boys shot one last glaring look at the girl before they left. This was definitely going to make the rest of the week more interesting. Did they really think they could try something and get away with it? They obviously didn't realize how long of a reach Bray had developed in his short time here. As she spoke, he turned hit attention fully back to her.

Braonan quirked an eyebrow at her tone, the taunt obvious in her speech and manner. "And just why would I care about that? The people here are nothing. Ignorant fools who parade around so wrapped up in wrecking others lives that they never look deep enough in themselves to see that they all live empty pathetic excuses for life. They are so full of themselves, with their parents money, their pretty girlfriends who squeal under them every night, and their designer clothes. They disgust me. They take up valuable space here. They will never account for anything, and they use up valuable resources, its only because of Headmaster Tymms that that they are not thrown out in the woods to be devoured by some beast." His tone was biting, with a sharp note of the judgmental. The cynicism hung about him like a warm woolen cloak, well settled to its master's shoulders as it engulfed his form and voice. His eyes showed their boredom with her. He had expected better. This was getting to be less of a distraction than he had originally thought it would be. But, it was better than nothing.

"As for a white horse and shining sword, I'm the last one you'll see saving anyone. I simply can't stand to have my concentration disturbed." And suddenly, the irritated cynic left; replaced by a charming, well behaved young man with a brilliant smile that was just a shade too sharp for pure comfort. His legs shifted, turning more towards her, inviting conversation.

His head tilted, eyes lazily traveling over her form, inspecting her from head to toe. He ran his gaze over the too tight clothing, the obvious lack of support for the heavy breasts, the lush curves shown off to most men's ideas of perfection. "You're a bit young, and sharp for my tastes, but at least you're not some simpering twit. Provocative, but with a touch of class. At least you're interesting. If we're going to be so close and intimate with each other, we may as well get to know each other. I'm Braonan. You may call me Bray, if you will. Your name is?" His eyes were just slightly insulting, daring her to answer now that he was playing the game, and fielding it just as well.

[Danara Alexandrei]

He was angry again. Like a true Celt, he got mad. His words flew from his mouth with cutting wit and cynicism that would have chipped even the coldest shoulder, and Danara was not unaffected, although she didn't let it show. She was insulted, but he had wrapped himself in a pretty little noose disguised as a ribbon before he got cold. There wouldn't be any regrets by her end, whether he hated her or not. He was pretty, in that manly way--She wouldn't mind what sort of dance they'd be doing in the telephone chatter tomorrow.

"What a mouthful. You like hearing yourself talk, hm?" He'd brushed her off before he finished his outburst, she had read it in those pretty eyes; he was playing the game because he couldn't let go of his grip on power--which was okay by her, that was attractive in some men, especially those with the gall to subsidize and discard a whole herd of people on a brief whim, and would use injustice as a whip to drive them out. That made him a dashing sort of hero--the kind that was really a villain, but everyone idolized. Either that, or he was a hero whom everyone would regard later as a villain; she hadn't quite decided yet.

She stretched out on the couch like a cat, rolling herself over and pushing herself up so she was seated upright to look at him. She gave him a once-over that was equally as smoldering and demeaning as he had given her, but ended it with a grandiose flop back into the soft back cushions and one leg swinging up over the other, "My name is Danara, and I'm a junior in this school full of people who should be fed to the wolves." She placed her hands behind her head and raised her eyebrows just slightly, those deep black eyes seeming to lazily take him in, "You might want to call me Dani, though, if you're perpetuating this contact. I appreciate that you find me less than simpering, because I'm certainly not a twit. Not even in the vaguest of terms. But neither is Bobby Michaels, although he's a bit of a gossip. Of course, you could persecute and kill all gossips--but then, what's to say you shouldn't kill everyone who wears a low cut shirt, or everyone who wears their hair short."

"Trust me when I say, though," She leaned forward and her voice got quiet, "Anyone who lies as badly as you probably shouldn't perpetuate rumors. After all, your concentration needed no disturbing from me--and yet you instigated contact by asking me if this happens, when I would have been happy to sit here and never speak." She winked one eye and smiled a cherub smile that could only be described as malevolent. Every flaw that came to the surface in a matter of moments of interaction made for an honest man. Or maybe it just made for a flustered one who hated seeing people get away with bad deeds. Either way, it made the conversation seem more fun in the aftermath.

[Braonan Mac Cionnath]

Braonan quirked an eyebrow when he heard the part about being a terrible liar. She saw just enough to make this little escapade more intriguing as more time went by in her presence.

She didn't impress, but there was something... Something that drew him in. A strange sort of power that had caught his eye; a power over herself, her actions, her mind. She was intelligent, enough to know when he was being insulting, even when veiled more than thinly. And she had a tremendous store of emotions inside that seemd to be just about to the breaking point. Her lithe figure was obviously not just from genetics, though the curvaceous lines that ran down her profile suited her just as well. She wasn't really attractive, she was too sharp edged to be described with the mundane quality of attractiveness. She wasn't pretty either. She was less like a rose with thorns, more like that of deadly briars. He could see some fool climbing a wall full of them, hands bleeding the whole way, just to catch a glimpse of the amazing sight beyond the great wall she placed, brick by brick, with her biting tongue and sadistic use of wit and sarcasm. She was truly a magnificent little thing.

He had a sudden flash of what she would be like in ten years or so. She could have everything she ever wanted. She was already powerful, but she could be so much more. And he could teach her a thing or two, maybe they could teach each other something to the mutual benefit of each other.

He smiled, this time fully. He didn't bother disguising the obvious appreciation of her and her attitude in his eyes. "You're an outspoken and blunt one aren't you? I don't have to ken the reasons why, but it's a refreshing change from the ones who parade as perfect, while the malice and spite shine out from their eyes. I rather appreciate someone who has the distinction to know how to act with their eyes, not just their mouth." He shrugged as he spoke, dismissing a good portion of the room back to the latter part of his mind, keeping the entirety of his direct focus upon the one in front of him.