Reluctant arrivals [for sethy-poo]

[killianquinn]

He never seemed to have too much stuff, which was alright with him. The idea that Americans worked to collect ‘stuff’, an excess of comfortable items that they would use twice and then throw away, ate at him. He never liked being in charge of too many things at once; he tended to lose or destroy whatever precious object he was given. The little suitcase he had contained his small wardrobe and the large collection of cash-allowance the school gave him monthly. He had accumulated the money over a span of two years, and had only taken the clothes he needed for the next couple of days. Tomorrow he would clean out his old dorm room and transfer the left behind items into his new home. Unfortunately for him, since the increasing amount of people flooding in form enrollment, the dorm rooms were filling up fast and those who once had a whole area to their lonesome were now being pushed together.

Which was bad. Because the word ‘together’ did not suit Killian in the least bit.

Killian glared at the door, pulling the cap father down his forehead, so that you could barely see his dark eyes. He was sure he would not enjoy this. People were nuisances, no matter how they appeared to be. Killian was wearing something much warmer than what it appeared he should be; his tight long-sleeved trench-coat completely covered his arms. He wore long jeans, boots, and yellow leather gloves. The only things exposed seemed to be his neck and face, paler than milk. He was much too skinny, but it wasn’t like he could help that. He turned the handle, and opened the door, pausing for a moment. The room was messy. Clothes were littered around the floor, trash and paper seemed to cover the surfaces. Something smelled. Killian scanned the area silently. No one appeared to be occupying the room at the moment.

Killian coughed, and then proceeded to roll his suitcase inside. He didn’t bother with being careful where he stepped; there was too much junk to be concerned with that. He wondered absently if he had gotten the right dorm. Wasn’t it conventional to politely, or at least half-heartedly, scoot things under the bed or shove them into the bathroom? He pulled the suitcase to a stop, and then opened a bathroom. It was relatively clean, only a couple things messed with, a lot neater than his bathroom in his other dorm. Maybe this was the right room. Killian shut the bathroom door and turned, taking everything in again, before closing the front door and sitting on the floor, next to the bed. He leaned against the wall, tucking his knees to his chest and dipping his head forward, as if he were slowly falling apart and was pulling himself together. The slight odor was only mildly unpleasant, but it wasn’t like Killian would bother to mention it anyway.

He coughed again, and looked down into his yellow glove. There were tiny, almost microscopic splotches of red soaking into the creases of the old fabric. He glared at it silently, and then wiped his fingers on the carpet floor. He needn’t worry about that now. Killian hoped that his new roommate wasn’t too personal. Or else they might have a problem.


This is what I'm jammin' to.

[Seth Turner]

The only high point in the entire day wasn't something to be celebrated. His body was no longer shaking from the withdrawals that had been plaguing him up until a half hour ago. The bad news was how he got the high that brought him back to his former state of being semi-sane. The shredded remains of his shirt hung limply across his body and with disgust twisting his face, he peeled a piece of the cloth off of himself. Flakes of his own blood shook loose, falling to the ground. He eyed it, but made no move to clean up. The day was one best left forgotten and the moment he fell asleep, he planned to do just that. It was a proven fact that if an event was traumatic enough, a person could block it from their memory. Seth was hoping that would work for him, though he doubted that he would be granted any sort of relief from the nightmare he had just endured.

He walked down the hallway of the boys dorms, grimacing in pain with every move that he made. Pointedly, Seth ignored the stares that his appearance was getting. They were apparently surprised to see him in such a state. He wondered why. After all, Seth had never given off the vibe that he would keep out of trouble. Chocolate brown eyes simmered beneath his lowered brows, he narrowed his eyes, glaring at the lot of them. Some looked away, others stared on, giving no heed to his murderous gaze. Seth scowled, but finally looked away himself. He had no energy to fight someone. The day had burnt him out and all he wanted to do was hole up in his dorm room and forget the world existed. Forget that he existed.

Digging in his pockets, he retracted the key that would grant him access to his supposed safe haven. He inserted it and the door opened with ease. Stepping inside, he didn't notice the presence of anyone else in the room. He was too busy to worry about someone else. Absent-mindedly his arm curled around his torso, fingers grazing the puckered, red line that ran from the top of his shoulder blade down to his mid-back. Seth had never experienced a physical transformation before, and it was not something he wanted to do again. He shuddered, eyes closed, picturing the monstrosity's that the new scars would forever remind him of. He hadn't been powerful enough to erase all trace that the wings had ever existed. So he was left with a souvenir. Just two more scars to add to the collection that the power of flight had given to him so willingly. He scowled.

It was the cough that alerted him to another person. His room, this was his place, not someone else's. He whirled around, hands extended in case the intruder was violent. He was prepared to put up a fight. The black trench coat screamed an old horror movie, but the suit case dragged his mind back to reality. A room mate? Impossible. Seth hadn't bothered to check whether or not he wanted a room mate, but he'd always assumed that the school would view him as too dangerous to put with someone else. He straightened, scowl twisting his face. It was the yellow gloves that through him off, otherwise, this other guy was decked all in black. He felt the thrum of power vibrating in the air, but it was darker than anything he'd felt before, more sinister. "Well, look at this. It seems like the school put the two outcasts together." His sarcastic jab came out in a sneer. The two dangerous students stuck together. It definitely spelled disaster. "How thoughtful."

[killianquinn]

Killian watched his new roommate walk into the room and blatantly ignore him. That tended to happen a lot; when curled up like that, he didn’t attract a lot of attention. It was fine by him, actually, if he wasn’t noticed at all. It didn’t matter to him whether his presence was taken into account. The other boy looked, to put it lightly, horrible. His clothes were torn to shreds, and there was a light, new-looking scar on his chest from something Killian honestly didn’t care about. Blackened, dried flecks of blood still clung to the boy’s skin, and Killian lowered his gaze. He could already tell that he wasn’t going to like this. Not at all. This boy looked rather rough-and-tumble, exhausted from what Killian could only assume was a supernatural fight. He had never met the person before, which was probably for the better. Killian couldn’t help it; he coughed into his bright yellow gloved once more, and then rubbed the damp leather on the carpet again. When he looked up, the boy was taking him into account, appraising him up and down. Huh. It seems he had finally noticed.

Killian seemed to have startled him. He tugged at the lip of his hat, not a nervous tendency but a habit he had when people were looking at him. When the other boy spoke, Killian looked up at him again, meeting his eyes with a cold stare. Not hostile, nor conflicting, just cold. Absent. Lacking emotion. Killian listened blankly, realizing that this was most likely the right room, which was a slight disappointment. He had no room to complain since he was more or less indifferent to the situation, but he wished that maybe this was all just a mistake and he could go back to his own room in solitude. By then he had gotten used to the faint odor and was only a bit curious to what it actually was. The boy sounded hostile, probably a bit miffed that he would have to share his territory with someone, anyone, whom he didn’t know on sight. Killian observed that he was about his height, a lanky guy that, even being slender, was still much meatier than Killian. His new roommate could probably beat him up in a purely physical battle.

“You’re Seth.” He said simply, after a long pause. He didn’t know how he could be called ‘an outcast.’ As he thought about it, he supposed he was. No friends, not many enemies, just sort of on the edge of things. An observer. That was pretty ‘out there.’ Killian chewed the inside cheek, wondering how such a large dorm could be so messy. Good thing he really didn’t care, or there might be a bigger problem between them.

This is the song I’m hearing.

[Seth Turner]

Seth shook his head, irritation causing the uncontrollable motion. Maybe he was an attention seeker, that much Seth never denied, but sometimes there came moments when he just wanted to retreat into the solitude of his own room. Besides, what kind of school gave a room mate to a student with unpredictable behavior and dangerous powers? They were asking to make the head lines. Gritting his teeth, he kicked aside some of the clothes that were strung out across the room, in varying degrees of chaotic order. His hands curled into fists and he stalked towards his bed, gaze locked on the ground, unwilling to admit how much the presence of this other person was unnerving him. He wasn't afraid, it was just… something he couldn't even begin to explain, even if he had felt so inclined.

"And the genius speaks." He muttered back sarcastically. The monotone voice of the other grated against his nerves, riling up the rage that he had just barely subdued minutes before. With a cold gaze he scanned the bed, strewn with clothes and random items he deemed unimportant. He shoved them off unceremoniously. With both hands, he ripped the remaining shreds of his shirt from his torso. He tossed it into the trash can and promptly collapsed onto his bed. It creaked under his sudden weight. He lay still for a moment, breathing in the scents of familiarity, mixed with the metallic, bitter smell of blood. Cold tendrils of power sidled up his bare arm, raising goosebumps on his flesh. It was unnatural, this revulsion welling up inside of him. The lingering power in the room was his siren's song, but not this time. All Seth wanted to do at the present moment, was get up and run out of the room. It wasn't fear, but an instinctive aversion to this particular power.

Curiosity won out. "The whole grim reaper look would be fine, if that's what your going for. But the splash of sunshine on your hands…" He turned his head, still lying on the bed. Brown eyes locked on the dark form of Killian. The corner of the right side of his mouth tilted up into a smirk, a chuckle ringing in his words. "Lets just say it throws it off a bit." He sat up, leaning back on his hands, turning himself more to face this new comer. He briefly wondered how a teenage guy could be that thin and still be alive, but dismissed the thought. After all, he didn't care what was wrong with the guy. And there was, something wrong that is. A bored expression fell across his face. "So what, did you burn down a class room, almost kill a student? What did you do wrong, to get stuck with me?"

[killianquinn]

“Grim Reaper…?” Killian looked down at his outfit, a bit confused. He rarely ever cared what people thought about him, nor did he mind what was he was wearing. It wasn’t a fashion contest he was trying to win; it was a goal he was trying to reach. And since he couldn’t help feeling very chilly every time he stood near an air conditioner, he always thought it was practical to wear something warm. Killian was always cold. It was something he thought was normal. Perhaps it was the drain his power had on his everyday life; and one that was irritating Seth at that moment. Killian could tell something was troubling his new roommate, though he didn’t know what. The older boy seemed agitated, more fidgety than his original demeanor. Killian observed his own black trench coat, then looked up and tilted his head. “The grim reaper has robes.” Killian noted, quite innocently, his voice reaching the epitome of indifference. He wondered what it was about his presence that seemed to awaken alarm in Seth. It was probably the fact that he was encroaching on his territory. Of course, he had been balled up in his no-presence corner for only a small amount of time before Seth had burst in with his tattered appearance.

He let the silence linger for a moment, as if observing some kind of proper pause. Killian just didn’t know what to say to that last comment. He didn’t quite get sarcasm the way he should. Everything was serious to him. Of course, he was learning more and more everyday about what to take into account and not; the importance of tone. Killian noted the look of boredom on Seth’s face, then glance down and grimaced into the seclusion of his hat. He wasn’t going to like this at all. He could already tell that his chances of personal secrets staying private were dwindling. After the long moments of hesitation, Killian stood slowly, holding unto the tides of a table as if it was a struggle to get up. Killian grabbed the handle of his suitcase, and then glanced at Seth with his emotionless eyes, as if checking to see if it was okay. He opened the door to his quarters, and glanced around. The room was mildly neat, though a bit stuffy, as if everything had been untouched for a long time. He unzipped his bag, leaving the door open for an open line of communication. Just in case.

“I didn’t do anything like that. Here.” Killian answered in a flat tone. He added the last bit hastily, so as not to lie to Seth. But even to him it sounded poorly conducted.

This is what I’m jammin’ to.

[Seth Turner]

.

so i go insane like i always do

AND I CALL YOUR NAME, SHES A LOT LIKE YOU

With all that had happened, Seth didn't feel like talking. Yet, the words kept coming, seemingly without any type of filter. The exhaustion and crash that always came after the power high left him delirious and babbling, no consideration for what he was saying or what he might be giving away. It didn't matter after all, if he spilled his entire life story to a perfect stranger, it made him no less who he was. Not that he was planning on anything of the sort. His eyelids fluttered as he tried to keep his eyes open, locked on his peculiar, slim new room mate. A wry grin tugged at his lips. "Touche." He murmured in reply. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered if he should make another sarcastic comment, another jab, just to offend, with no other purpose than that make himself feel better. No. He was too tired. Much too tired for any such nonsense.

An eyebrow rose, but it felt disconnected, like he was being controlled by a puppet-master. No free will. Not so different from the rest of his life. "Well, that's strangely cryptic and yet, I'm intrigued." Maybe he should just stop, curl up into bed, pull up his covers, and be dead to the world for the next few hours. His mouth didn't seem to be willing to listen to him. "Maybe you're used to people being scared of you. With the doom and gloom look it isn't a far stretch. I'll bet with your power you can kill me standing all the way over there in your little room. So I guess it makes me strange, hellbent with a death wish, but I'm not afraid of you." The delirium was setting in. His voice faded in and out, loud one moment and then an off key whisper the next. His eyes fluttered, rolling back as he forced himself to stay awake. His tongue felt leaden in his mouth and a throbbing pounded at his temples.

"I'm not afraid of anybody. You can call me crazy, everybody else does. Of course, they call me other things too. Jerk, scum, bottom-feeder…" He barked a laugh, hoarse and bordering on crazed. "And would you believe, those are the nicer names? So what. What do they call you?" He turned his head to the side, trying to see Killian, and giving up.

words // 000 // tagged // who is tagged // outfit // here

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TEMPLATE BY: THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE MIKEY ! @ CAUTION.

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[killianquinn]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-image: url(http://oi55.tinypic.com/34zjexi.jpg); padding-bottom: 20px;] i’m so cold i'm going in for the kill. i'm doing it for a thrill. i'm hoping you'll understand, and not let go of my hand. i hang my hopes out on the line. will they be ready for you in time. if you leave them out too long they'll be withered by the sun Killian paused, and met his roommate’s eyes under the brim of his hat, just barely being able to see his pupils. Seth didn’t suddenly sound so good. For some reason, something was affecting him. He wondered what it was. The wounds from earlier perhaps, though Killian really didn’t care what had happened. As he babbled on, he couldn’t help but feel an ounce of relief that he was semi-delirious. Not because he wanted to inflict any pain or, well, delirium on Seth, but because he probably couldn’t have handled someone anyone in their right mind being defensive about him moving in. Still, he didn’t fully ignore Seth’s words. It was much easier to absorb what the older boy was saying and reply then having to go through the ‘fight of the offended.’ “You don’t have to be afraid of me. I don’t care.” He said, his voice barely audible. Killian bent down and started to scoop out his belongings, opening the drawers and filling them with contents. His clothes were all long sleeved, all small, and all thin. It was easy to put them up, though it seemed like he was taking a large amount of time simply binding over and shoving an under-abundance of materials into half a space of storage. When all the clothes were put inside, they only took up half a shelf. Killian glanced up at Seth, who seemed to be done talking and taking an interest in Killian’s sloth-like actions, and then opened the bottom drawer. Then he picked up the suitcase, and out poured the rest of its contents; pill bottles of every size and shape clattered into the wooded container. He gave the medicine a wistful glance, then grabbed a bottle of something and threw the suitcase to the side. Killian turned and started walking towards Seth. “These are pain pills.” He popped the cap open, took one, and threw it at Seth. “Something is wrong with you. They help you sleep.” Killian gave Seth a cold once-over, and then turned, walking into the common are and going back to his corner, he sank to the floor and pulled the lip of his hat over his forehead. Under the protection of his hat, he felt a bit better. “They call me Killian.” He said, thinking quite literally. words, tag, outfit, notes

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This is what I’m listening to.[/center]

[Seth Turner]

.

so i go insane like i always do

AND I CALL YOUR NAME, SHES A LOT LIKE YOU

"You don't care? That's good, you shouldn't." Seth replied, his voice vague and distant. He felt that he should stop talking and take back all that he had already said. Unfortunately, there was no undo that could erase the past few minutes. He needed to sleep. So why was he sitting here talking to his strange new room mate? Because he was there. Seth flopped back down on his bed, his eyes shutting as he listened to Killian move back and forth in the room over. He groaned, putting a hand over his eyes to block the light. Maybe he should get up and turn it off. He peeked through his fingers, glaring at the light switch all the way across the room from him. Forget it. He shut his eyes, trying to block everything else out.

Ignoring everything didn't seem to work as he'd intended it to. Dots of light danced on the backs of his eyelids. 3… 2… 1… The movie started. A cry of pain and then the avenging angel. No, two angels. Facing off against each other, one in hysterics and the other hands extended, trying to calm the one down. They fought, though it lasted for only moments. And then there was one, as the other lay on the ground, panting for air. His eyes snapped open, gritting his teeth as he banished all thought of where he had just come from. He'd be fine. He just needed some rest, to recover, though he doubted all problems would be fixed by sleep.

Something hit his side. He glanced down, a little pill gleaming white in the harsh light of the room. He glared at it. "Oh really, you just now noticed?" He retorted harshly. Killian walked away, calling back his name. The cold reality of the situation slapped him across the face, maybe the business like manner of his room mate had helped. He needed to wake up and realize just how messed up his life really was. He wasn't grateful and there would be no thank you's given, Seth just wasn't the type for such trivial formalities, but perhaps he wasn't quite as resistant to having a room mate as he had been. He picked up the pill and put it in his mouth, swallowing it dry. Now, maybe he could sleep.

words // 000 // tagged // who is tagged // outfit // here

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TEMPLATE BY: THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE MIKEY ! @ CAUTION.

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