failure isn't fatal

[Joshua Guthrie]

Sometimes you just need something to fill up the days. The emptiness that occupies your brain on occasion aches for something new; something it hasn't done or seen before. Sometimes that calls for painting a picture; because your brain needs to create something unique. Sometimes, it calls for reading a book you've never read before; just to open up your mind to someone's individual ideas. Other times you can't fill the dead space that's left; you're completely bored to no extent. It’s so much more than being bored though; it doesn’t have the same feeling, where it could end at any time. This lack of amusement feels endless, no matter how much you feed it.

Jay had this feeling most of the time now. The simple thought of anything remotely relating to the events that took place before he arrived at the school would send him hurdling over the edge into a fit of depression; but now he basically felt nothing for anything. He found himself on a typical lazy afternoon in the courtyard of the Academy; carrying around a guitar. Lugging would be the correct term instead of ‘carrying’; as it was being drug around on the floor. The sky was an ugly shade of gray, but there still seemed to be some breaks in the clouds; letting the light through.

With this look plastered on his face like he was attempting to read something too miniscule to read, he scanned the vast open area that was the Courtyard. The scenery was nothing new to him either; the multiple statues of infamous ‘Heroes’ were scattered throughout the area, and of course the marble benches that matched the statues were placed throughout as well. The green of the foliage that surrounded, and in some cases, took over the statues, clashed with the ruby hue of his wings and hair; and would make any one person who stared too long go blind. The ugly brown zip-up sweatshirt didn’t do him much justice either, as you could tell he hadn’t take much time to fix the back of it for his wings; just two jagged slits took up the fabric with the feathered appendages making their way out. Making his way slowly over to one of the cold stone seats, he sat down, laying the guitar across his lap in one fluid motion.

Brushing the locks of hair from his forest eyes; he sighed, knowing that it wasn’t really smart to sulk around and look horrible and needy, so he decided to simply displace his feelings, and maybe play a song or two. He was kind of in a people-mood today, which was a shame when there was no one around. He’d figured there had to be someone making their way through eventually; taking a short cut, or simply just coming here to relax. Relax… that’s what I should be doing, He thought, as he tapped his finger on the yellow stained wood of the guitar. But how can I relax? That’s something simply impossible when you’re ‘restless’. He laughed to himself quietly. His voice stopped instantly, and his head quickly shot around, after hearing the slight sound of footsteps on the stone path that made it’s way around the garden. He rolled his eyes, at not being able to see them from first glance because those damn bird wings were in the way.He also knew the person probably had heard him muttering to himself, which was always a great first impression. He didn't see anyone though, so he figured he was just hearing things. This wasn't unusual.

[Roselle Ulrika]

She absolutely hated New York City’s sidewalk traffic. What a pain in the ass in a literal fashion. She’d somehow managed to get tripped up by someone, and had ended up crashing straight onto her bottom without a midway stop from her legs or anything of the sort. Roselle subconsciously rubbed her backside at the thought, a frown resting on the girl’s pallid face as her now orange-ish looking red hair blew in her face. The color change had been due to a unfortunate accident with bleach while in the laundry room that had turned spots of her hair the same brassy color. So, she’d decided to just finish the job, and had added brown to it in random streaks just because she’d liked the mahogany hue when she’d seen it on the box. She currently had it curled, bobbing around her thin shoulders which were currently wrapped up in a black wool high necked pea coat, her face buried in the scarf which was settled in her tall collar. The young Brit looked up at the gray sky with a sort of bemused look, it reminded her of Britain in the autumn and winter, the permanently gray and dreary atmosphere that generally didn’t clear until spring or summer. Green eyes skipped along the gateways until she finally spotted Xavier’s, tucking her thin fingers into her pockets to pull out a lighter and a cigarette packet, and quickly lighting one of the cigarettes in her mouth.

Yes, a bad habit, give her a break. She was twenty-six years old; she could do what she wanted as far as she was concerned. She didn’t expect for anyone to be outside when the outside was so dreary. Most of the kids usually stayed inside when it was like this, where as the Londoner was used to it in the most disturbingly familiar way. After all, she used to look at the same sky everyday out of the basement window, her only gateway into the outside world since she was locked in her basement from four until sixteen. She shook her head, those thoughts wouldn’t ruin her day today as they had so many times before. She couldn’t let that happen again, as she’d already had a bought of that and had to fight it off by bringing Harlan in.

She jolted and stopped in her tracks when she realized she wasn’t alone in the gardens, however.

Both the boy’s psychological signature, and the fact she could hear him muttering tipped her off. It wasn’t too crazy to speak to one’s self, but she felt crazy for not noticing him early. She rounded the corner out of curiosity, realizing with a small laugh to herself that it was a redhead she’d walked in to. It wasn’t often she found someone with hair as brightly red as her own, but then again, hers was currently bleached out and she couldn’t possibly count them as the same anymore. But, they both certainly had green eyes. Ironic, truly. She gave him a small smile, holding her cigarette to her side and away from him, in case he would be insulted by it. “I’m sorry to interrupt if you wanted some alone time, but I can’t help but notice you’re alone, and I feel like I ought to stop and talk.” She explained as she quietly approached, trying to ignore the slight squishing noise that came from underneath her heeled black boots.

“So, in that case, I’m Roselle.” She stuck out her hand with a warm smile, trying her best not to let her accent become too thick that she sounded like she’d just popped off the boat. She’d spent nearly two years here, after all.