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tornheart2017-05-22 10:18 pm
tellmeimbeautiful) wrote in tornheart2017-05-22 10:18 pm
[Open] There's coffee to be had in the teachers' lounge
Who: Open to anyone with access to the lounge (teachers, teaching assistants, etc.)
When: After the contract appeared on everyone's phones
Where: Teachers' lounge
What: Cheap coffee, information-sharing and using a dartboard to grade papers (ok maybe not that last one)
Click. Click. Click. In goes the red tip of the pen. Click. Out it goes again. Morgan eyed a pile of compositions, the same pile of compositions, still untouched, still in the same order it was last night when that strange contract appeared. The pile had just been moved from a desk in a cluttered apartment to a tidy desk in the teacher's lounge.
Every page filled with messy student writing was a reminder of that moment.
Have you ever killed someone/something? -Yes
Next to the stack of compositions sat an opened copy of André Breton's The Automatic Message, pages down. The spine was starting to crease under the weight of the cardstock cover.
Did you enjoy it? -Yes
Morgan suddenly decided it was time for coffee. Not because there was a particular need for coffee -there was about a cup's worth of lukewarm liquid still sitting in the pot- but because there was a need to move, to busy hands and mind, to make noise in the empty teachers' lounge.
The coffee would be terrible, anyway. It always was. Rolling up the sleeves of a light flowery dress, Morgan started by throwing away the old coffee and energetically scrubbing the pot.
Scrubbing was therapeutic, in a way.
When: After the contract appeared on everyone's phones
Where: Teachers' lounge
What: Cheap coffee, information-sharing and using a dartboard to grade papers (ok maybe not that last one)
Click. Click. Click. In goes the red tip of the pen. Click. Out it goes again. Morgan eyed a pile of compositions, the same pile of compositions, still untouched, still in the same order it was last night when that strange contract appeared. The pile had just been moved from a desk in a cluttered apartment to a tidy desk in the teacher's lounge.
Every page filled with messy student writing was a reminder of that moment.
Have you ever killed someone/something? -Yes
Next to the stack of compositions sat an opened copy of André Breton's The Automatic Message, pages down. The spine was starting to crease under the weight of the cardstock cover.
Did you enjoy it? -Yes
Morgan suddenly decided it was time for coffee. Not because there was a particular need for coffee -there was about a cup's worth of lukewarm liquid still sitting in the pot- but because there was a need to move, to busy hands and mind, to make noise in the empty teachers' lounge.
The coffee would be terrible, anyway. It always was. Rolling up the sleeves of a light flowery dress, Morgan started by throwing away the old coffee and energetically scrubbing the pot.
Scrubbing was therapeutic, in a way.
no subject
Of course, actually getting in isn't so easy. A soft knock at the forbidding wooden door brings a different teacher, unfamiliar with him and naturally suspicious to the entrance. She only opens it so far as to poke her face through the gap.
"Can I help you?"
Akira smiled. "Sorry. I don't mean to be a bother. But is Mr. Morgan here?"
There's a moment when she slides her eyes left and sort of peeks over her shoulder to check before she looks back at him. "He is, but he's busy currently. Why don't you see him after classes are through for the day." Her tone turns the question into a statement, and she's already shutting the door.
Before Akira realizes what he's done, he's jambed his foot into the crack of the doorway, preventing her from closing it. You both gape down at the offending appendage, and when their eyes meet again he can tell that he's actually managed to anger her. Oops.
"Sorry!" His smile ekes toward apologetic and he spreads his hands plaintively. "Please, this is important. It'll only take just a second."
A moment passes before she finally turns her frame and calls out to her colleague. "You have a visitor!"
no subject
Well, anything which Morgan asked of him.
"Were you about to brew a new pot of coffee?" Bridging the distance between himself and Morgan, Sol is quick to pick up on the professor's state of disquiet; a sense of restlessness which resonates too deeply with his own. Where Solange had thought he'd left the feelings of the night before along with his phone (at home, in dormitory room), somehow yet they still managed to follow him.
Acknowledging as much only gentles his words when he speaks next, "I've finished with grading the in-class assignments from last week, so if you'd like for me to help you look over the take-home essays, I'd be happy to."
Giving pause, Solange tucks an errant strand of white hair back, behind the shell of his ear.
"Or if you'd rather just talk, I'd be just as happy to spend time with you."
no subject
"Oh, Akira, What can I do for you?"
Waving the colleague away -of course it would be Mrs. Emmers, she was such a stickler for rules and regulations... and the common butt of jokes between the other teachers- Morgan couldn't resist an eye-roll... nor the thrill of irritating such an uptight woman.
"Quick, come in before the principal notices and gives me a stern talking-to..."
no subject
"Oh, Solange, it's you! Why don't you come help me make some coffee..."
Eyes turning to hands that had resumed their hard scrubbing of their own volition, Morgan adds, a little softer, "Coffee is always helpful after a sleepless night", before nodding towards a box containing an array of coffee grinds -most of them the cheap, bitter ones the school bought for the teachers, citing 'cost-cutting exercices'- in a silent appeal for Solange to choose one.
The glass pot is rinsed. Filled with water. As Morgan slips the filter in the machine, a smile ghosts on rosebud lips: "O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frightened thee. That thou no more will weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness?"
no subject
It will make for a good laugh, at the very least.
"And perhaps there are none in Green Valley who bear such a heavy weight as the professors." It is a sound deduction, if there ever were one. Astute and clever, Solange boasts a reputation for seeing straight into the heart of others, and Morgan is no exception. Smiles can only mask so much, after all.
(If anyone at all, Solange should know this, for he is oftentimes guilty of the same.) "Though..."
A whisper of a hum upon his lips, he considers Morgan with an empathetic expression; a cant of head which causes the long fall of his hair to cascade down, over his shoulder, for he'd worn the white locks loose today.
"I've heard the same from many others today. Sleepless, restlessness nights seem to have befallen many of the students and teaching faculty on campus."
Brow furrowing in concern, he hopes it is not overstepping his bounds to ask: "Is there something on your mind, Professor?"
no subject
Morgan takes a step back, eyes wide. "I'm sorry... this was inappropriate..."
At least they were alone in the lounge. Teachers have had to appear in front of the disciplinary committee for less than this tiny, spontaneous transgression... no, not a transgression, it didn't feel like a transgression, it felt... natural. Expected. Beautiful.
It was missing a name, a very important name...
Choosing to ignore Solange's question, but unable to repress a flicker of the eyes towards the phone, sitting silent like an animal lying in wait on his desk, Morgan instead focuses on the coffee: "Did you choose the grinds? I know most of them are terrible... the school wants to keep teachers irritable to make sure they don't give out too many good grades."
The joke was weak, but hopefully it would help liven the mood just a little.
no subject
Akira hesitated in spite of having been told to come inside. "Is that really okay, Ms. Leigh?" Looking over her shoulder he can see that the Teacher's Lounge isn't full, but aside from Mrs. Emmers shooting daggers in their direction, there's several other teachers inside. He'd definitely be noticed if she insists on bringing him into the one space students aren't supposed to be.
"I really don't want to get you into trouble with the Principal." He's heard rumors that because of her... minor eccentricities, that some of the faculty have it out for her. And while it's true that Ms. Leigh has always struck him as an odd woman, he doesn't dislike her either. Certainly not enough to want to risk getting her in trouble. "I just had some pages that got torn off the end of my essay that I wanted to get turned in before you graded them..."
no subject
It should not be surprising, that after the gentle card of Morgan's hand through the silvered strands of his hair, the name which falls from Solange's lips is something by far more familiar than 'professor'. Though it is no great secret that both English teacher and assistant were a fast team and fond friends, oftentimes sharing many cups of (terrible) coffee in this very same lounge, between them many things have gone unsaid, voiced only in small gestures. Little things, like the way Solange would see to it that Morgan would always have fresh flowers upon her desk. Or the way Morgan would always fuss after him to take his rest when he so happened to be most in need of it.
But this--...
The touch had taken his breath away, if only because it had been so very profound, a gesture made with all the ease of being (a gesture meant for someone else, Solange thinks) before Morgan withdrew her touch.
White lashes hooding over gold eyes, Solange's gaze falls downcast as Morgan turns the conversation back to coffee, the machine now filled with water and with grounds humming to life no sooner than Sol presses the power button.
"Whether the coffee is good or bad, I'm certain that your grading will always stay the same: bold, like the notes of an espresso which we surely share after we've finished with this week's assignments." The assignments which lie upon the table, next to a cellphone and a companion book.
"Whatever it is that may be amiss..." Despite the change of subject, it is not in Sol's nature to leave any ends unfinished. For this reason, he'd been appointed as a dormitory RA: an innate care for others. "...it will be all right, Miss Leigh."
Seeking out Morgan's eyes with his own, he cants his head and offers a softer smile, "And in the meantime, please rely on me. We'll make it to summer break together."
no subject
"You're probably right."
With a small frown, Morgan slipped out of the teacher's lounge, closing the door softly, before turning back towards Akira, who was holding pages from his essay in one hand.
"Oh, of course. I will take them, I haven't started correcting yet. I've been helping my brother prepare for the Flower Festival. Will you be attending?"
sorry, I thought I'd replied to this days ago! x_x
"The flower festival?" Akira's been vaguely aware of its existence--after all, it's a yearly celebration, so it would be hard to forget about totally. His little sisters are both keen on going, now that he thinks about it; they've been bouncing off the walls begging their parents to take them on Sunday to the opening ceremonies.
"Naw, I don't think so. I'm a little bit old for flowers, unless I'm going to be giving it to a girl." And right now, Akira is (yet again) between girlfriends. It's become a bit of a joke even with his family; 'Akira just doesn't know what he wants!' "That seems like something that would suit you, though," he adds.
no subject
"Solange..."
It shouldn't come as a surprise that Solange would forgive Morgan's small transgression. Sol has always been so steadfast, so caring, from long talks over coffee to the flowers on Morgan's desk, always in bloom, never wilting, never fading, always replaced.
And now... Please rely on me... Those words stir something deep within Morgan, the same something that prompted fingers to run through silver hair, searching for a memory, or a hint of a returned feeling. And that voice, that voice that isn't Sol, that voice that is everything speaks again: Lean on me. I will always be by your side. Allow yourself to lean on me."
Where did all these thoughts come from? Who did they belong to?
Morgan smiles, a little forced, and echoes Sol's words: "Yes, we'll make it to summer. Together." Somehow this simple word, 'together', seems to change everything and Morgan's smile becomes genuine. "But in the meantime, we need to tackle those essays. Pull up a chair, I have a treat for you: a character study of Beowulf the famous... first werewolf of German horror movies."
An eye-roll and Morgan heads back to the desk. "Don't believe me? Come have a look!"
no subject
A bouquet of flowers. How beautiful flowers are. When you break their stems and then, slowly, one at a time, tear off their petals. They love me. They love me not. They love me. They love me not. They... all the petals are gone, scattered on the floor, all that is left is the bare pistil bleeding yellow all over your hand and you want to crush it because They love you not and...
Morgan realizes that his hand is forming a fist around the pages of Akira's essay and slowly releases the tension. Had this anger always been simmering right under the surface?
no subject
It's a little uncomfortable to think about, actually. 'For such a friendly guy, you're so cold!' It's a familiar accusation, one that at least three other girls have levied at him. He's not sure what he's doing wrong, exactly, but he's not sure that they're wrong, either.
Not that he's talked about it with anyone, but every time he's been on a date with--anyone, really--whatever spark of attraction you're supposed to have for someone, it's not there. Yeah, he can listen, and go through the motions of seeming like an attentive boyfriend, but it's always just a matter of time before they realize Akira's not all into it, not giddy over hand-holding or anticipating that next kiss.
Although the young women he's dated have never been very perceptive, Akira has always had a fine eye for detail, and he doesn't miss the way Ms. Leigh's hand starts fisting around his papers. "Something wrong?" Surely she couldn't have been that bothered by the idea Akira had broken up with that girl?
(There is something wrong, indeed, mostly in that his language has suddenly become so casual with his teacher, but it's out of his mouth before he can correct himself.)
no subject
Something wrong?
Something's wrong with Miss Leigh? She won't go to the pool with the rest of the staff. Did you hear she turned down Mr. Carol? She's so stuck up. Does she think she can do better? She might be beautiful, but she's a strange bird.
Something's wrong with Morgan? He's been so withdrawn since his twin sister died. Even his therapist is at a loss. I saw him in one of her dresses yesterday, he's a strange child.
Everything's wrong. Everything's been wrong since that application appeared and those strange -those oh so familiar- hallucinations started.
No, everything's been wrong for longer than that... but recent events have highlighted just how wrong, how fake their world has always been.
Morgan frowns, and sidesteps the question. "That's a frighteningly casual turn of phrase. Use your verbs, Akira!"
no subject
(Or better yet, up that cobwebby old cooch that no one would want to touch--)He tries to laugh it off. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi... Just like he learned. He's not the kind of kid with such impulse problems that he goes around throwing punches or insults anymore. Especially not to a teacher.
"You're right. I'm sorry, Ms. L...eigh." There he goes again. What's wrong with him today? (What's wrong with everything lately but everything?)
varied use of vocabulary on that insult. v. impressed! A+
What is this path that Morgan's hand is itching to follow?
They used to get along so well. Was the lack of sleep, or maybe the strange application, putting everyone on edge? Making everyone behave strangely?
"Well, thank you for bringing me your essay". A forced smile. "I'm sure it's really good."
(ooc: I think that's the orientation of Kira's blood stain but please correct me if I'm wrong!)
why thank u /takes a bow
The suspicion that Ms. Leigh is lying is strong, and only reinforced by the sharp edge of her smile. And--there's something about the crook of it, or maybe it's something else, but he can't help but wonder what else she might be lying about.
Everything?
"No, thank you for taking it." Akira smiles, but his skin is crawling. He wants to get out of there. And he's suddenly very glad that he refused to go into the teachers' lounge; it's more private out here, but the notion of four walls and a door between him and a long, stretch of space to put between the two of them strikes him as a trap.
"Anyway, I should probably get going before the next bell rings. I wouldn't want to be late for class." It's not a lie, but not the truth, and altogether much more smoothly delivered than something Akira would normally be able to offer under the circumstances.
this might be a good place to end?
"Why of course", agrees Morgan, smiling genuinely this time, "I wouldn't want you to be late!"
With a quick wave of the hand holding the essay, the English teacher slips back into the lounge, closing the door behind them, grateful to escape what had been an incredibly unsettling experience.
What had just happened?