Irene Dixon
Weapon
Demon Corseque
Wake me up. I'm living a nightmare.
Posts: 108
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Post by Irene Dixon on May 13, 2014 15:15:46 GMT -5
This man liked to look determined.
Even after the distraction of weapon forms and whatnot, he still seemed… insulted? Was that the word she was looking for? Whatever it was, he was staring at her to the point of almost glaring. Well, that was quickly broken. Irene wasn’t intent (at this moment) to cling to his anger from her telling him to control himself. She found it much more interesting than irritating. He was confused again. For some reason, Irene loved that. She didn’t want people to know what she was thinking, what was going on in her mind. Her own little secret world.
While she noticed the male returned to his more normal state (or what she had decided was his normal state), she couldn’t have realized that this was from him trying to give her the opposite of what he assumed she wanted. In fact, Irene didn’t totally care how he would react. Though, reactions taught one a lot about a person. He let it go so easily, and she assumed that was how he was. At his first words, the weapon merely shrugged. There was really nothing to be sorry for. She wasn’t insulted, if anything, he had insulted himself. Still, that was no reason to apologize to her.
His next words…. she highly disagreed with. If he wanted to claim that it wasn’t a good way to tell what he was thinking, she could possibly give that to him. What one was thinking in the moment could differ from what they showed. He also didn’t seem like a manipulative person, so she could only assume he didn’t directly alter his physical hints to seem like he was someone else. Therefore, body language did hint to things about a person, though not always directly to thought.
”Maybe it doesn’t indicate what you’re thinking, at least not directly. And maybe not all the time. But it does sometimes hint to it. And repetitive body language is a strong indicator of who a person is.”
What she enjoyed more than anything was this next reaction. After speaking what she believed to be his thoughts, her silent prayer was mostly answered. This surprised reaction, almost disbelief. His mouth was open and he was staring at her. If this had been turned the other way, she would have been furious. But… this way it was amusing. Fighting to keep herself from smiling, she took a few steps back and returned her position of leaning against the doorway opposite of him.
”I may have made an overestimation of your thoughts on me. That was more from knowledge of how people normally react to me than from observations specifically to you. As well as the nervousness. Most everyone is usually nervous in some way, shape, or form.”
Settling back into her normal blankness, the lightness was escaping her voice. Evenness of tone and expression, both of them against the doorways. He was returning to his light self and she had wasted a good bit of time distracting herself with this man. She had been meeting a lot of new people lately. And… these blondes. What was up with blondes being interesting? Her eyes traveled over the man again, half convinced this was Dante in disguise or something. But… she knew it wasn’t. Too tall, built bigger, personality totally different. Just… two people in such short of a time. Completing her once over, her gaze returned to the man’s face.
”I may leave you to your music making. Though, I would request you wait until I am free of the dorms before you begin playing again. Music doesn’t tend to have a positive effect on me.”
That was no secret. Irene didn’t like music. She had told a few people that in a not so friendly way. But it did seem like time to go. Not one to stick around and chat unless otherwise persuaded.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
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Post by Deleted on May 14, 2014 19:50:56 GMT -5
Nolan tilted his head and eyed Irene strangely. She was quite a character, that was for sure. She seemed physically to be absolutely unfazed in the least, and yet she would vocally reveal the delight she found in prying into things. It was obvious if one simply looked at the subtext in what she said. For a moment, he wondered if she could tell that he was observing her in a similarly prying fashion, although not nearly as technical. It was all a bit humorous and Nolan had to bite his lower lip to stifle any giggles that were threatening to surface. He noticed how she seemed to be holding back…a smile? Well, now that was new. Her eyes were expressing her glee enough that Nolan had picked up on it. Yeah, she definitely got off on showing people how good she was at observing. His surprised reaction to her talent must’ve caused this reaction in her. Her voice has lighter than before; he was so close to befriending this girl, it was driving Nolan up the wall. However, he began to see her close off once again. Oh, heck no. He was not about to give up just yet, especially after what she just said to him. It was upsetting, to say the least. How could music—like, not a specific song or genre, but just music in general—have a negative effect on anybody? That was the worst thing she could’ve just said to someone like Nolan, and he faltered a bit as a result. “W-Wha? Hold on a second…” Hoping she wouldn’t make a mad dash away from the room, Nolan darted over to his bed and slung his guitar strap across his body. Turning back towards the light-haired young woman, he inhaled before beginning to sing and play, maintaining eye contact with Irene to make sure he didn’t step too far into the danger zone. He didn’t want to end up with any scars, although Irene would be held accountable especially since she was in a supposedly girl-free zone. Girl with the strawberry hair, Would you possibly care To be my friend? He paused, having moved halfway across the room by now. He gave her a sort of smile-shrug combination movement, and then continued with his improvisation. This was honestly all coming off the top of his head. I know quite possibly, I would love it if you could be A chum to me, deary? Nolan was now only a few feet away from Irene, and he decided to keep that distance and stuck his ground. I know we’re really different,That’s a fact, I must confessBut we could help each other grow,Don’t you think that would be best…?Word Count: 458 Tagged: Irene
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Irene Dixon
Weapon
Demon Corseque
Wake me up. I'm living a nightmare.
Posts: 108
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Post by Irene Dixon on May 14, 2014 20:59:14 GMT -5
He was looking at her. Watching her. That wasn’t abnormal really, he had kept his eyes on her since they started conversing. Irene assumed that was his way of drawing people in, of creating relationships. She didn’t really want that, didn’t want to make connections again. But, she still felt more at ease with someone’s attention on her when she spoke. She didn’t feel ignored. Even if she didn’t want to be best friends, it was nice not to be ignored when you spoke. Heck. Someone looking interested was even better.
Even if he did have to smile all the damn time.
But that’s how he was, or so she assumed. Except for when he had been insulted, he had been grinning, smiling, and laughing. Even though he was a bigger male, he just reminded her of a child. She just had to remind herself that he wasn’t. Even if he acted like one, he proved to have a…. somewhat more intelligent mind than a child. Or she thought at least.
When she started to relax back into her ‘normal’ self, he seemed almost disappointed? That was confusing. Then he was scrambling about. She was getting ready to leave, she was sure he had things to do and she knew she did. Telling her to hold on, her eyes followed his movements. What was so important? Did she forget something?
Oh hell no.
Her eyes locked on that instrument that he picked up. Though she was still leaning against the doorway, she could feel her whole body tense up. This was some sort of sick joke, right? Her eyes shifting from the guitar, to his face, to the instrument, and then slowly back to Nolan’s face again. Her patience thinned. He was going to play. She didn’t know how this would come across as amusing, but she most definitely was not going to be pleased if he did one musical related thing.
And there it was. Inhalation. Preparation. Voice and strum. Her teeth clenched together, her jaw tense, anger slowly seeping into her gaze as she watched him. His words were heard, but all she could focus on was the cruelty of this. She had warned him. She had specifically TOLD him. And then he does it anyway? He asks to be friends? What the hell kind of friend does this? Not that she ever would have been friends, not that she would have taken him up on that offer… but this was cruddy to do to someone.
Not only was he singing and playing, but he was approaching her. He could have just asked her these stupid questions… but he had to do this. That pressure. That fear. Anger. Sadness. Betrayal. Hurt. All mixing and all building up. She couldn’t take it. She didn’t want it. The only thing written on her face was that tension, and that anger in her eyes.
Shifting off the doorframe, notebook in her left hand, she approached the male slowly. Her gaze settled on his face. Moving closer to him until she stood almost directly in front of him, she lifted her right hand like she might place it over his hand strumming the guitar. Then, she balled her hand into a fist and quickly yanked her hand downwards in the air. A quick flash of light would reveal her partial form, the bladed partial, dark metal across her knuckles. If he caught her motion fast enough, pulled the guitar away… He might save the strings that she had hoped to cleanly cut. Maybe…
Music.
She hadn’t actively taken part in that in years. Not since that day with her mother. Not since that day she found out she was a weapon.
Her eyes still on the male, if he closely analyzed he might see the tears starting to form.
”Nothing positive. I warned you.”
It was a hiss of words.
Then she turned around. If he moved to stop her she would very likely attack him. The pain she felt… it was a mixture of that day, of disconnecting herself, of him betraying what little trust she had put in him…. Anger. That people could be like this. One of the few times she put a part of herself out there. Obvious for everyone to see. And it was thrown back at her. Betrayal.
By now she had reached the doorway once again. Well… that edge of the room. Partial form still overtaking the knuckles of her right hand. She pulled back her arm and threw her fist forward. It landed solidly in the wall with a loud ‘thunk.’ She paused only a moment. Memories. She threw the instrument. Her mother’s horror and sadness. The silence. Her just letting it go. Her wonderful weapon. All of it. All of this damn mess started there.
She yelled. Irene yelled. The loudest she had been in a very long time. It was almost like a tortured scream, yet mixed with the darker sounds of training, pain, and anger. As this sound escaped her lips, she tore her fist to the left. Leaving a trail of destroyed wall until it got to the doorframe. Which… her partial had sliced through as well.
She had always told herself she was fine. Always thought it would be okay. Fine didn’t mean happy, it meant surviving. But what was the point of this all.
The light once again flashed over her hand, her partial gone. Clutching the notebook with her left hand, the thing looked like it might fall apart any moment. Her right hand finally falling to her side. She glanced over her shoulder at the blonde. She was sure he was probably not reacting all too well to this new side of her. She wasn’t even reacting too well. Irene knew it, but it also had an odd sort of release.
”I told you.”
Then she moved to walk out the door, paying him no more mind.
Did she really want to protect these people?
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Deleted
Deleted Member
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Post by Deleted on May 15, 2014 8:10:42 GMT -5
Apparently, Nolan wasn’t careful nor observant enough of Irene. While he had been singing along with his guitar playing (if it could even really be called that; it was more like strumming random chords and spitting out the first words that came to mind), he had thought he was watching her to gauge her reaction. If she didn’t seem to be getting the message, he would quit and drop the “music” right then and there. But it was difficult with Irene and it has been their entire conversation. Reading her physical portrayals of emotion was a daunting task, and Nolan hasn’t known her more than a few minutes so he wasn’t exactly a pro at picking up on her vibes yet. Thus he didn’t notice the tension in her face and furious glare until she began to close the distance between them, after Nolan had finished his little improvised friendship offer. She now stood closer to him than ever she had before, and although he was larger in size and stature than the strawberry-blonde Nolan felt like she was towering over him. Her hand slowly moved towards him, and… Shink! Blinking, Nolan looked down at his guitar, its strings curling and cut clean-off from the rest of the instrument. His mouth agape and eyes wide, he returned his gaze to meet Irene’s eyes. She had just cut his guitar’s strings?! He could feel the usual happiness drain away from his relatively good mood, which showed through how his body seemed to sag and cower away from Irene. He could see the tears beginning to form in the young woman’s eyes, and that was the point where Nolan realized he had read the situation completely wrong. He had made a huge mistake when he picked up his guitar. He just didn’t expect her to react so intensely; boy, was he wrong. In response to her venomous words, Nolan found he could do nothing but open and close his mouth like a damn fish. He was at a loss for words, really. When she turned around, what he wanted to do was reach out and comfort her. But instead he refrained from moving at all, afraid that if he did she might lash out at him the next time instead of his guitar. This all went to hell real fucking quick. What was he supposed to do now? He had just royally fucked up any chance of befriending Irene; what a wonderful way to start off the school year, eh? “I…I’m sorry…” He managed to force out, not sure what else he was supposed to say. Should he mention that he was an idiot for doing that, for not taking her warning seriously? At this point he wasn’t sure anything else would do any good. He flinched and jumped a bit when she punched the wall, shouting and dragging her knuckle-blades across the room’s interior near the doorway. Yeah…this sucked hardcore. Nolan felt like the world’s biggest douchebag, and a bubbling emotion that could only be described as self-hatred began to form deep in his chest. It was nauseating, to say the least. He was returning her look with something close to a deer-in-headlights gaze, and then it was only a few moments before she had left. After about fifteen seconds of just standing there, Nolan finally dragged his feet across the floor to his bed, dropping his damaged guitar to the ground and falling face-first onto the mattress. Well, that had gone about as badly as possible. Gripping his pillow with two large fists, Nolan buried his face in it, the events of the past few minutes still spiraling through his head as he exhaled a shaky breath. “I’m so stupid…”
Word Count: 620 Tagged: Irene [END OF THREAD]
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