theswordinthethrone

Alistair sighed heavily, looking at Genevieve sadly. "Sometimes I need to be reassured too..." he remarked, scratching the back of his head. "I need to go and beat that irresponsible President for his horrific showing earlier... and that's without considering this too." Alistair looked over at Gen, cocking his head slightly. "You can come with me. You'll be able to see a wild Club President in its natural habitat, hunted by the cunning Vice President!" Looking around and finding his bearings, Alistair nodded in a certain direction. "The sound appears to have come from the direction of the main plaza. That's going to be our best bet." I'm sure he won't mind me bringing her along, Alistair thought, well... he did request hot chicks come along, so he can't really complain can he? Marching up the main plaza with fiery eyes of purpose, Alistair quickly identified Chase... wearing aviators? "Charles Cross!" Alistair boomed as he walked over to him, presumably with Gen in tow. Is he smiling? That scoundrel, oh he really has it coming. Alistair began to roll up his informative guide to the Academy and scowled as he approached. Before Chase could say a word, Alistair had began swatting him with the rolled up paper.

I'm not sure if any of you are still interested in this roleplay, but if any of you are, maybe we could remove the waiting three posts until you post rule? Just a thought, if anyone is still interested.

"Gen, hmm," Alistair put his hands to his chin as he thought. "I like it, that works!" He announced, smiling shyly. "We probably should go and examine, eh?" He said, extending his hand and taking hold of Genevieve's. His cheeks reddened when he realised this was the first time in years he'd even touched a girl's hand, let alone held one, but he shook away his embarrassment as he got to his feet and patted Genevieve on the back of her shoulder, remarking "let's go then." Alistair walked up to the teacher giving out the timetables, assuming that Gen was in tow. The teacher looked up at Alistair, who easily towered over her, smiling at him. "Name and year?" she requested in a polite tone. Alistair cleared his throat, "Alistair Lyons, second year," he stated calmly. "Ah yes, Alistair," she said, "good to have you back, at least you don't cause me any trouble." The teacher sighed as she sifted through the various papers. Alistair remembered her, she had taught him for his politics class last year. Her name was Miss Waters and she was a mild-mannered and somewhat clumsy woman. Alistair had an innate respect for teachers and authority, and although he resented this particular teacher's lack of organisation, he admired her somewhat as a person. It seemed like an age had passed by the time Miss Waters had handed Alistair his timetable. "There you go," she chirped, smiling and motioning forward the next person to receive theirs. "Thank you," Alistair replied kindly, stepping aside. He stood waiting for Genevieve, since it'd be rude to leave without her. Although, he thought, I have half a mind to wring Chase's neck. Oooh that scoundrel. Where could he be? He needs a good talking to after that display. Alistair scratched the back of his head and pondered where Chase's favourite haunts would be. He had barely known Chase last year and saw him even less... this would be a wild goose chase, for sure.

For the first time in a long time, Alistair's eyes genuinely sparkled. His lips quivered into some sort of genuine smile that seemed oddly natural for him, yet something that had been absent for years. He was left dumbfounded like that for a few moments and he simply had no idea how to react. His entire being had prepared itself for yet another outright rejection, but he had miraculously been proven wrong. Once again it seemed that he had to stop himself from crying. "You're going to kill me, Genevieve," he remarked with a shy laugh. "My jaw might fall off, it hasn't moved this much in what must be three years." Although Alistair was happy, he couldn't escape the feeling that he may have made a mistake. Letting someone in so soon after meeting them was out of character for him. You'll be hurt again, the voice in his mind whispered to him. This made him feel a little bit uncomfortable and he snapped back to reality, taking control of his emotions once again. "I am truly grateful. As for your admission into the club, I'll gladly accept you on the president's behalf. If you feel the need to beat him around the head a few times, I won't be lining up to complain about it," Alistair said with a small smirk. The sound of Genevieve's bracelet hitting the floor startled Alistair slightly, until he realised that it was just that - a bracelet. "You do like to fiddle with that bracelet... does it hold any special significance to you? If you don't mind me asking."

Alistair glanced sideways at Genevieve, still quite saddened by the whole affair. "Charles- er, or Chase I suppose... Chase isn't my friend. He's... an acquaintance. I knew him last year, if briefly, from a class or two." He scratched his head, unsure of how to continue. Does he really know something that nobody else does? Maybe... no, I'm sure he does. He looked up for a moment at the stage where Chase had been dragged away. That's what he knows, he thought. Alistair turned fully to Genevieve, determined to explain both himself and the idea of the club. "This school devours people whole. If you don't fit in, you don't have the support, you don't have a lifeline. Last year was an uphill battle for me. There was no help there when I needed it, no comfort, no nothing... even the Academy's own support is awful. The counselors don't want to hear it, and the psychiatrist just wants to give you drugs." Alistair was clearly upset at this point, a small tear was forming in one of his eyes and it took a lot for him to blink it away. "By the end of the year, I was finished. But Charles came to me, he had a solution. What if..." Alistair choked and wasn't sure if he could eloquently explain the idea. It was such a stupid idea when he said it out loud, but he had faith in it anyway. "What if there was a club for people like us? People who couldn't fit in? Where we could come together and... well... fit in?" He looked down and sighed. "Charles wanted me to help create that vision. I only knew him vaguely, but he's been through a lot. Nothing that I could tell you, but he's a good person on the inside. One of the few. He has his own problems, but he only wants to help people." Looking back up at Genevieve, he swallowed hard and extended his hand. "Regardless of what you think when it comes to Chase, or the Normal Club... I would be honoured if you would be my-" Alistair truly choked and turned red. Why am I saying all of this? To someone who until a few moments ago, was a complete stranger? Has Chase infected me with his spirit? Curse him. Alistair went quiet and looked at the floor, mumbling the rest of his sentence so that it was barely audible. "... My friend."

Alistair heard Genevieve's words but his head was in his hands, he simply had no inkling of how to even begin with his reaction, let alone his explanation. I knew Chase was crazy... but this... I didn't sign up for this. He looked to Genevieve, then back at the floor, then up to the stage where Chase was dragged away, and finally back at Genevieve. He was completely dumbfounded and he blushed red from the embarrassment. After such a display, he was clearly petrified of the thought of Genevieve, or just about everyone else in the Hall for that matter, thinking ill of him too. He should have ran up there and tackled Chase while he had the chance, letting him do the presentation alone was a stupid decision to begin with. Alistair just put his head back in his hands. "That idiot!" Alistair snapped. He sighed and looked over at Genevieve solemnly. "You don't understand... I'm... I'm the vice president of that club." He cringed and awaited her impending judgement, she'd probably want nothing to do with him now - or at least that was his line of thinking, and it showed in his concerned expression.

Alistair cocked his head to one side, eyeing Genevieve up and down. Genevieve, huh? He was sad to have his theory confirmed, that Genevieve faced almost certain rejection merely due to the limitations of her own language. He still wasn’t entirely sure why she was being so nice to him, or indeed, why he was being so nice to her. Alistair may not sympathise with a lot of people, but he recognised a kindred spirit, and nobody deserved to be out-casted the way he was. “Alistair Lyons…” he paused, “is my name. English, but with some French somewhere down the line.” Alistair tilted his head back to a normal position and for the first time in a while attempted to smile. When the duo burst into the Hall, Alistair sighed audibly. Even this place isn’t free of idiots. “What menace bludgeons another with a baguette – a baguette of all things?” He leaned back in his chair with his arms folded. “It’s times like these… I really doubt the human race.”

Sounds like Chase is into some weird stuff.

Alistair was, once again, startled by Genevieve's sudden words. Looking left, right, then back at Genevieve, Alistair confirmed that she was in fact talking to him. It had been such a long time since he last had friends that he was unsure of how to approach her with a conversational tone. Scratching the back of his head and sighing, he sat up straight and tried to look her in the eyes. Just put one word after the other... he reassured himself. "I've, um... I've written lots of pieces over the years. You see, I had a lot of time on my hands." Okay, keep going, Alistair almost felt as though he should pat himself on the back for getting this far. "I write a great variety of things, I have written political pieces, articles, as well as fantasy... I am a great fan of fantasy writings, particularly Tolkien. Of course, I needn't tell you that I am a lover of poetry also. Sadly, having tried my hand at it many times, I can say I'm not as good a poet as I am an author." Then, Alistair stumbled in his conversational skills. He couldn't find any more to say about himself, and although the conversation was making his skin crawl from nervousness, he felt that he needed to inquire of Genevieve's own fancies, hobbies, etc... maybe inquiring about her heritage would be a good place to start? "Excuse me for stating the obvious," he began, "but, I notice that you're French? My sister, Scarlett, she's a great master of the French language... she tried to teach me once, but, I'm not very good with languages outside of English." Alistair scratched his head again. "Je ne parlais pas le Francais," he said, chuckling lightly. "It must be hard for you, with, what... not fitting in? Believe me, I know that feeling."

Alistair's expression turned solemn, sad even. The first day and I've already upset somebody, he thought, what on Earth is wrong with me? No, no...I'm sure I'm better off without 'friends', but, oh... He closed the book on his lap before putting his head in his hands and sighing heavily. He tightened his hands into a fist so hard that his hands started to go red and shake. No, you're surrounded by people, now's not the time to embarrass yourself so utterly. Alistair's thought rang true and resonated in his head, calming him slightly. Sitting back up straight, he wiped a line of sweat from his brow and brought out a bottle of water from his backpack, sipping at it slowly, taking little breaths until he was fully calm. He glanced to the side, hoping to spy a glimpse of Genevieve. The French girl had sparked some sort of curiosity in him, and he definitely felt bad for snapping at a fellow poet. It must be hard... being a foreign girl in a foreign land. Catching Genevieve momentarily, it became abundantly clear that she was trying her best to outright ignore him. Alistair slunk back into his depressive state, but quickly withdrew a pen and notepad from his bag; he began writing something on the page. When will this ceremony start? He questioned.

Why thank you ^-^ I had a quick internet search, I believe it was "anime banner" and that was the best one I could find

Hmm, I find this potential ship agreeable

At this point, I'd ship my characters with anyone Q.Q

Alistair was startled out of his comfort zone by this sudden interaction from the girl sat close to him. Is she... talking to me? No, of course, who else would have a Poe book but me... he thought. Scratching the back of his head, Alistair didn't even attempt to smile. "Are you being sarcastic?" He said, in a slightly sharp tone. Alistair felt bad, realising he had acted aggressively towards the girl, who probably only had the best intentions. "I'm... sorry," he began, swallowing hard to calm himself. "I didn't think there were any other fans of poetry at this academy." Alistair looked around awkwardly, he was clearly uncomfortable and wondered whether this girl was indeed genuine. She seemed genuine, but so had many others before her. Alistair wanted to trust her, but, with memories of his past clouding his mind, he simply went red in the cheeks and looked at the floor, becoming quite flustered. (( Oops, it would appear I've broken a rule, totally accidental, won't happen again ))

Alistair Meandering into the main hall, Alistair briefly glanced over the masses of students taking their seats. A twinge of nervousness struck him; he didn't like crowds much. Alistair swiftly found a seat and sat down, reclining into a comfortable position. He looked around at the various characters that he could make out in the mass. There were tall, short, slim and large students. Braniacs and idiots. Popular and unpopular. It doesn't matter much, he thought, they're all the same. Quietly rummaging through his backpack, he hunted for a particular book - a favourite of his; The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe. He began reading with the same appreciation he always had for poetry. It didn't matter, the teachers had already lost control of the situation and students were doing whatever they liked. He remembered, though, that Chase would be one of the Presidents speaking at the opening. Oh dear... what on Earth has he got planned? But his thoughts were interrupted by a high-pitched voice bellowing in the distance... Scarlett Scarlett bounded energetically up the path to the Academy, her friends left in the dust behind her. "Hey, Scarlett!" "Scarlett, wait!" "We can't keep up!" The cries became ever so distant as Scarlett turned back to face them. "We're going to be late! We have to get to the hall NOW!" She cried out, speeding off again. This time, she had well and truly left her friends behind. Arriving at the Hall, Scarlett panted and put her hands on her knees. Oh boy... she thought to herself, all those years of track really did pay off, huh? Sighing and taking a breath, she entered the hall. Looking around for her brother in the large crowd, she finally spotted him near to the edge of one of the rows. Oh of COURSE he's reading his stupid, stupid poetry book. She frantically waved about, shouting "hey! Alistair! Big brother!" Until he finally noticed her, at which point he buried his head deeper into his book and pretended not to notice. Scarlett sighed heavily as her friends appeared behind her. "Hey, we saved you a seat," one of them said, beckoning her to follow. Next time, big brother, she thought as she allowed herself to be guided to her seat.