still s t u t t e r i n g } Thundy/Eve

[анзие (Anz)]

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Lyulf is late for every period. Lunch period is generally not an exception, even if it used to be.

It's not deliberate, it's not like he lingers in the hallways looking for someone to come and wipe the floor with his face. Even with Idris's training he doesn't expect to win any of the fights that he doesn't start, so he doesn't really try to fight back. This is why he comes home with bumps and bruises that he struggles to keep hidden from his short-tempered not-sister to avoid any drama in school on his account.

(He notices, though, that when Idris is in the general vicinity of him he's given a wide berth, even from the larger students who could probably flatten him like a fucking pancake before Idris even gets to his side, and it makes him wonder.)

Ze recognizes kindred spirits, though, and while he doesn't usually speak with any of them Lyulf does spend his lunch periods sitting at their tables (they're usually all separate, which confuses him, because shouldn't it be safety in numbers?) in rotation, though recently he's been spending most of his time with a brown-haired girl maybe a year or three younger than ze is.

He thinks her name is Eve, but he can't be too sure because Lyulf has never really (bothered to) ask. Maybe it's time to change that.

(He's not begging for any sort of attention, it just gets lonely, and besides, it's just her name. It's not like he's asking her to pay him any attention in their too-quiet mutual lunch periods while everyone else is chattering away in the background, not giving either of them a second glance.)

Lyulf makes his way to their usual table, tray in hand (it's almost empty, his tray; he finds that if he stuffs himself before his next period, the food will be beaten back out of him) and looks around for his lunch-mate. No sign of her yet... Maybe she was delayed, just like him.

Huffing a quiet breath, he shrugs his shoulders (to no one in particular) to indicate a careless attitude. Lyulf settles in his seat, placing his tray down with delicate care, and starts pushing the unappetizing food around his bare plate.

and oh, you know there's something that i can never say.
coded by anzie with reference to skye@caution2.0

Lyulf-Leah Descartes

i live in my own darkness with giant birds of prey.

I ran out of steam, sorry D:

[Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]]

______________________

Here I am, a rabbit-hearted girl
Frozen in the headlights

Eve clung desperately to her tray of food before someone else could knock it out of her hands.

It happened a few days ago. She'd just been minding her own business, stepping carefully out of the lunch line to avoid running into the swarms of people waiting to get their (admittedly gross) food from the lunch ladies, and a girl with sharp fingernails and a long nose came out of nowhere and pressed down hard on the end of her tray, splattering the contents all over her shoes.

Not today, though. This morning she skipped breakfast in her hurry out the door, and the idea of anyone ruining her meal (even in an imaginary situation) almost made her cry. She clung to her tray like a lifeline as she edged through the crowd, arms wrapped tight around the edges, not daring to let go as she moved towards her table where the world could easily forget that she existed.

Then again, the brown-haired boy who sat across from her was a part of that world, and she couldn't just disappear into the landscape when he was sitting there.

Every second of silence was awkward, but she knew that speaking up would make it even worse.

(Or would it?)

Whenever she felt like she was being a wimp about something, she always thought about trying to become a Career. To you know, toughen up a little. She'd considered it, dreamed about it, wondered what would happen, but she'd never signed up. Oh, she liked to walk up to the training center window and peek inside, but she'd never walked in.

Eve had to remind herself not to be a wimp some days, and this was one of them.

She picked absentmindedly at her food when she sat down, eating without realizing that she was doing anything.

(Don't look at him, don't look at him, don't look.)

If she looked, she might get the nerve to actually say something.

(And then she looked up, because she'd eaten too quickly and there was nothing left to do but sit there.)

(And she did say something, despite her better judgment.)

”Hi,” she said simply, fidgeting with her fork in hand. ”Are you..”

(And then she forgot what she was actually going to say.

And she fell silent.)