Running Out [ Anole ]

[Laura Kinney]

Just because she had been suggested to interact didn't mean she actually would. She was already pushing herself by sitting in a room that frequented many people. She just didn't like all the different personalities, because it seemed one smile made another. Laura saw no reason to smile, not even at the jokes that had been made between groups of people. She was left out of it, and it was obvious, so she didn't bother to dwell on the thoughts. All she did was continue to read the leather-bound book she held in her lap.

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Curled in a large chair, Laura had her knees drawn up to her chest, the black and gray plaid material thick for warmth. The bottom hem of her maroon tank top appeared from under the black thermal she wore. Her long sleeves reached to the first knuckle of her thumb, her fingers curling around its edge to keep it there. Her pallid face was a smooth as porcelain, as was her expression composure. One hand had been drawn up to her mouth, forefinger and thumb placed there as she remained in though. Her other held the book open, turning the page when needed.

She didn't take notice as to how long she sat there. She just moved on from one story to the next, taking the time to understand the words that had been written. Many started to leave the common area as the night was starting to mature, though some still remained in the room. They were all faces she could recognize - from class, from nearby dorm rooms, and the like. She just never spoke to them, because she felt no reason to. And they never asked her anything to begin with. Nothing important, at least.


[ Excerpt taken from Edgar Allan Poe's The Pit and the Pendulum. ]

[Victor Borkowski]

[/i] reading. Victor’s finger swiftly pressed the power button once more, sinking the room back into quietude. Finding it difficult to come up with a reasonable explanation of why he thought she was a cushion, to her, became too difficult to conceive – especially since his mind had been void of thinking for most of the day. Instead he could do nothing but offer his condolences, “Sorry. Didn’t see you were reading…” He said feeling like a complete idiot for being unaware of her presence in the first place. Hopefully she’d just think he was mental and go back to her book, though now he was stuck. It would be beyond rude to enter a room, make a complete idiot out of yourself, only to leave shortly after. No, this was one fire he’d have to put out himself – even if he was on strike. Well, if not wanting to do anything could be termed a strike.

“I can turn the light on for you…if you wanted to, you know, see better?” He found himself grasping for straws where there were few, if any. He didn’t need a silent setting to inform him of the awkward silence that had consumed the place – typically his mind had a way of bringing these rhetorical facts to his attention.
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[Laura Kinney]

The hum of the television bugged her. It was because there was nothing else, other than the audio that was omitted from the electronic device, that could muffle it. The sound was high-pitched, tickling inside her ear. She couldn't let bother her, however. One of the first things she ever learned was to not let distractions get to her, consume her, from her current purpose. Right now she just wanted to read.

Someone spoke, and it made her eyes stop between two words. More like a letter and a word; 'a madman'. Laura didn't move any other part of her body, not even enough to show that she had heard the person who spoke. Her heart continued to beat and her chest still rose with the steady pace it had before. Soon her eyes following the next word and therefore started to read once more.

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The same voice asked her a question. Damn the silence they had shared in the near desolate room. Otherwise it would have been easy to keep on reading. It had started to become difficult for her to focus like she used to. The teenager blinked her green orbs and shifted them to the voice's source. He had a physical mutation; while not uncommon, outside the walls of the mansion she rarely saw any.

"I can see just fine," she stated bluntly before turning her gaze back to the ivory pages she held on to. She never meant to seem as cold as she probably did. Then again, she didn't know how to be the opposite. Her head had moved slightly with the motions made, a strand of dark hair falling from its confides at the crown of her head. The rest of the ebony waves were fastened there with a thread-wrapped elastic, secure for only daily activities.


[ Excerpt taken from Edgar Allan Poe's Tell-Tale Heart. ]

[Victor Borkowski]

[/b][/color] He said in reply understanding that now would be a good time to exit stage right; and yet something prevented Anole’s feet from moving. Like the signals in his brain that told him to get out of here and run as far away as possible from this girl, …and let her finish her book, weren’t being received correctly. He sorely hated being a third wheel or basically odd man out, which is why he escaped such situations so that he wouldn’t have to feel as uncomfortable as he did right now. His eyes monitored her without warrant for a few brief moments, like he was judging whether or not she could tell he was staring at her from her book worm position.

Finally his foot pivoted and he turned on heel about to go with his original thought when something struck him. It wasn’t like a heavy realization or being punched or having a sack of bricks fall on top of you – it was more like a subtle inkling of a whisper just barely visible to his inner memory. Turning back he looked carefully at the cover of her book and knew instantly where he had seen it. Edgar Allen Poe was one of the many great authors in life, that Victor found himself doing a book report on at one point in his life. But even without study, the stories he wrote caused a person to think outside of the black and white and plummet into the gray center belly. He also remembered wanting to check the book out earlier that day but finding it already lent out to someone. Now it was possible the young girl brought the book of her own accord but the sheer irony of it all was unsettling.

“You like poetry? Edgar has pretty good work, but not many people take the time to figure that out.” He had started talking (almost faster than he was accustom) to her as if she was a cushion, that way if she didn’t talk back to him it wouldn’t matter – because she was a cushion, right? “I’ve seen you around for a while, but we haven’t really talked before, now. You’re Laura right?” He didn’t want to force the girl into a conversation but his recent discover made it seem so natural.

Not realizing how quickly his mind was racing at that moment, it’s way of catching up after a 12 hour case of idle. He wanted to shut up really, but his lips continued to move and with those movements came the sound of more words. Words that caught up with him soon enough. Realization was such a bitch. “I can leave you alone if you want. To finish reading and yeah…no biggie…” Alright, it was a HUGE biggie but he wasn’t going to be the one talking to a cushion tonight, it was time for the cushion to state whether or not it wanted to be a cushion or in fact a girl (as well as high time to end the cushion metaphors). Either decision wouldn’t cause Anole any heartache, after all he knew exactly what it felt like to what to do nothing but be, in any sense of the word.
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[Laura Kinney]

Silence. Sometimes she hated when it started to get uncomfortable. Even more so when it effected her slightly. It was annoying. But continued to read, turning one page after another. She had already done enough by sitting in the room that was often full of people. Sure, it wasn't so now, but before it had been. That was sufficient for now. She'd keep doing something like that for a while and use it as an excuse to show she was 'trying'.

It was not a complete waste of time, at least. She was taking time out from a rigid personal schedule and relaxing. To the best of her ability, that is. The young feral was always on edge, always subconsciously listening to what was around her. She would never be able to discontinue that habit, or that need. She had to have some sort of control on the situation, if not all. The reptilian who spoke broke her thoughts once more.

She had ignored his acknowledgment of who she was. She was sure everyone had some sort of name for her, whether it be proper or childish, she cared less. She sought secret joy, however, for those who knew nothing of her. He still rambled on, though, even as she was about to say something. Of course, her body never gave off the appearance that she was about to speak, so to the boy it must have seemed like she was just a stone figure or another dark pillow to the large armchair she sat in.

"Not many take time out of their day to flourish in the death and horror that he writes, either. Most cringe from the very thought," she was thinking aloud. Of course, the written letters that forms sentences and paragraphs did not bother her at all. They simply shed a more beautiful and artistic light on the subject she already knew of. Her eyes didn't move away from the page she had been reading, following each printed word as if the interruption had never happened.

[Victor Borkowski]

[Laura Kinney]

And the boy didn't even continue talking. Laura disregarded the moment, not expecting anything more. That's what she had been accustomed to as of late. She didn't mind much, because that meant she didn't need to deal with those who had inconsiderate intentions. The ignorance was something that had been getting her into trouble. Or, rather, others thought it was trouble. She considered it a form of defense; slamming a student against the wall because he was poking into her life too much or challenged her and didn't understand what they were asking.

But lately people seemed to understand to just leave her be unless there was a purpose. Hence, there was little excitement in the physical violence aspect of her life.

Out of the corner of her eye she watched the young man sit back down. Again, she did not register that he was dropping whatever interest he had before. Actually, she was certain he had no interest in her, in any form. It was just common courtesy to offer to turn the light on. A nice gesture, and no doubt just part of his personality. Nice, really, but just the way the guy was.

She blinked, for a second moving her emerald eyes to the guy and looking at the scaly, rough skin he had. Her head did not move from the direction of her book, as if any second she would go back to it. She didn't, however. After a few seconds of wandering thought she returned her focus to the book in her lap, starting a new story.

[Victor Borkowski]

[/b][/color] He forgot to mention that he was inside of his own accord, but the revelance really didn't change anything. Still he stood there with hopeful eyes, a beamed expression and an air of intrigue as to why of all places did he want to take a walk around the school grounds. Walks were thereputic in their own way, but at the end of the day - walks were walks, people were people, and Victor of course was the adorable oddity that went by the alias Anole.
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[Laura Kinney]

The deafening madness she knew as silence settled once more. She didn't read this time, however, when his attention seemed to travel away from her. From the corners of her sea green eyes she took note of his actions, of how calmly he could continue to read the magazine that undoubtedly contained information that was as truthful as those she once took orders from.

The green mutant's muscles flexed in such a fashion that they gave way to his next action, which was to stand. Her eyes moved across words she had burned to the back of her skull over the years of uneventful nights. Typewritten words, beautiful to anyone who knew the power each and every letter contained, emitted the very picture Laura could visualize with ease. Only half of the reason for the simplicity of such was because she knew first hand what the gory details of insanity and murder looked like. The other half of her found insight and glorious escape in the curves of the letters and vivid scenes.

Each line described an emotion to her - though there was a chance that, because it was her mind that it did this to, no one else understood what that entailed for Laura. No, the insanity written was a perfect match for the young woman, who was equally out of her mind. Or believed to be so, at least.

"I'm gonna go out for a little walk."

"No," she said, at first not tearing her eyes from the ivory pages of her book. Soon, though, she turned her head to look at Victor, once more absorbing the rigid detail of his skin. "Thank you for the offer." That was all she said; she blinked once or twice in a calm manner, before turning her attention back to the stories that lay in her lap.