Sarah Sabastian (
silentsorrow) wrote in
skymuffins2011-07-30 09:21 pm
[Sept. 1/11] The Dining Hall, Early Evening
Supper at Thrones Academy was always quieter at the end of the year.
At the very beginning of the year, it was different. Older students found their tables—some claimed in years past, others rearranging themselves to suit how friendships had changed over the course of the two month long holiday all returning students had endured—while the newest class, the ninth graders, congregated at the tables set up for them. In the weeks that followed they would realize that they were allowed to move to other tables. And they would realize that no one wished them to do so.
For now, they were thoroughly engrossed in talking to those of their year and the rest of the grades were varying degrees of relieved about it. The new kids did not notice the way that the Headmistress, Lenore Aubrey, did not at them even once for all that their tables were closest to her.
The older students knew why.
At the very beginning of the year, it was different. Older students found their tables—some claimed in years past, others rearranging themselves to suit how friendships had changed over the course of the two month long holiday all returning students had endured—while the newest class, the ninth graders, congregated at the tables set up for them. In the weeks that followed they would realize that they were allowed to move to other tables. And they would realize that no one wished them to do so.
For now, they were thoroughly engrossed in talking to those of their year and the rest of the grades were varying degrees of relieved about it. The new kids did not notice the way that the Headmistress, Lenore Aubrey, did not at them even once for all that their tables were closest to her.
The older students knew why.

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He nodded a little, glancing at the staring people and shaking his head at them before inching around the table, choosing a seat a few down from Sarah's, and settling in.
"I'm sorry I disturbed your reading," he offered, well aware that in saying so, he was going right ahead and disturbing her reading all over again. "I'll try not to interrupt you too much from now on. Good book?"
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Was he truly as silly as he sounded? she wondered tiredly.
She glanced sideways at him, eyes cool but not actively hostile, and after a pause three heartbeats too long to inspire confidence in her ever answering, Sarah lifted her novel enough for the cover to show. A man in incredibly inaccurate faux-Victorian costume cavorted with a scantily clad woman with a spectacular sunset highlighting her curves.
If she'd been the laughing sort, Sarah would have had to bite down a smile. The cover implied a dreadful lack of taste.
The book was lowered carefully and she stared down at the page wondering what she was doing. Sarah knew she shouldn't encourage him-- that would only make him expect her to talk and she... she couldn't, for all that they said her throat was fine. When she didn't talk to him, he would go.
Just like she wanted. The way everyone else had.
Except us, whispered her constant, cold company in voices no one else could hear. Sarah, known as Sorrow, nodded her head. She was never really alone.
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When Raine had confidence about something, he was beginning to find that his patience tended to come in pretty handy.
His lips twisted up in a little smile as she showed him the book's cover, and he bit at his bottom lip a little as he ducked his head. Oh yeah, she had pretty terrible taste.
"Maybe I can borrow it when you're done?"
That's okay. So did he.
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Her eyebrows drew together slightly, but that was all the frown she permitted herself to show.
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He pulled out a well-read book with the cover half missing, but what was visible looked to be a swords-and-science kind of horrible sci-fi novel. A rather buxom woman in some futuristic-looking armour was holding a broadsword, one-handed, against an unseen foe that had likely been on the missing half of the damaged cover.
From the look of the book, it was possibly questionable as to whether or not he'd ever actually read anything else.
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Sarah, more unsure now than she'd been about the possibility of him making fun of her (his book, after all, did not look much better than hers taste-wise), raised her eyes to glance at his face.
Ah, she thought, lowering them again. That was why he sat with her.
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It took his attention away from the tight twisting of his insides.
"It's a pretty terrible book," he admitted, looking down at it for a moment before he went to cram it into his bag again, "but it's fun. I mean, I know how it all goes, beginning to end, but I've had it since I was a kid. I got to the end of the book and learned how it ended on my own terms."
And now he was rambling.
"I should have read more novels before coming here."
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She didn't really know why she did it but she closed her book and silently slid it across the table towards him.
Perhaps the library would have another copy. He could read that one. What his stone was mattered little to her.
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He shouldn't have been surprised. But then, even clairvoyance as powerful as his had the potential to become couldn't predict everything. Not yet, at least. He only really had experience with it for a year, now, after all.
"Thank you. Um... Sorrow, right?" That was the only name he'd ever heard the other students call her. It seemed to fit, in a kind of sideways sort of way that skirted around the hurtful way that their peers had intended it to. "I'm Raine. Eleventh grade."
The other students had already taken to calling him Jasper this year, as if the meaning of the stone itself was some sort of great insult. He didn't see any need to report that much to the girl who was barely acknowledging that he existed. After all, a nickname like that was as plain to see as the stone that had been embedded into his forehead.
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She knew what jasper meant and spared a moment to pity him for having to wear his stone where everyone could see it. Her stone, at least, was hidden. Few people in the school knew what it was. Sarah intended to keep it that way.
His name at least gave her something to be quietly amused at in a way, she thought, with another glance at him, was not hurtful. Surely he'd figured it out before. Before her caution thought better of it or the stares got to be too much, she dipped two of her fingers in her water and wriggled them over the cup.
Rain, see?
She liked that about his name.
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Hint hint, staring people.
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People stared. It happened. Would he threaten everyone in the school? That was too much work for her.
Realizing that she'd not answered his question before, she contemplated ways to do so. Sorrow was name enough for her, and more comfortable than her own, from before. A reminder, too.
Instead, she answered the question he'd implied asking when he'd stated his grade. Sarah pointed to herself and then tapped on the outside of her cup thirteen times. Thirteenth grade.
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"... Twelve... thirteen. Thirteenth grade? That's not too bad, right? I mean, halfway there."
Which, when put that way, just made it seem even longer. People were only now turning their backs on him, starting to realize what it was that his stone and its placement really meant. They probably weren't about to turn back to him any time soon. And nobody that he knew of had ever really wanted anything to do with Sorrow. She'd been the weird one. The creepy girl. The single survivor in her grade.
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Right now, she was still Sarah underneath. If she came back again--she wouldn't want to be. Intent was dangerous when it came to magic.
Sarah wondered how to respond to him when the doors opened and servants began bringing food in. She gestured to the doors--look, there was food coming--and then folded her hands on her lap and studied them.
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He looked up, watching the servants bustle around the room, serving the other tables first. Were the two of them really so unnerving? And when they finally did get to their table, the service was... brisk. Professional. But hardly warm. Were two teenagers really so unnerving?
"Thank you," he said graciously, all the same. "It looks great."
It looked like food, at least. That was generally good enough for him.
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She folded her napkin on her lap, as if she wasn't aware of the way the servants had retreated quickly. She was, but that was an old, dull hurt. No more than she deserved, really. Despite herself, she couldn't help but glance over at Raine to see how he was taking it.
It would get worse. She knew that from experience.
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Just something else to add to the list of stings and bruises he'd be picking up today, he mused wryly to himself. His smile was a bit strained, but he didn't let it let up for an instant. A frown would have been worse. He'd spent all of last year frowning at certain people. None of them were alive, anymore.
"You know, I think they like us," he said airily, picking up his fork. "Saving the best for last, and all."
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At least she was not ignored by those who'd been her classmates.
Of course, her classmates were dead. She wondered which was easier to handle.
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Just like always. And he knew it.
"And is it just me, or did we get better cuts of beef? I think we got better cuts of beef."
Yeah. Sure, Raine.
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For all of that, Sarah noticed that he wasn't really eating despite his flip words. As she took a drink of water she thought about what to do. Ignoring it was the easy path and she was tempted by that.
But he sat there and he talked to her and he'd not said one thing about her lack of speaking. It was a small thing, really, but her mother had always said that everything had to be repaid.
That memory, unlike most of hers pre-death, was not faded with time at all. There were too many things to repay for her to forget that. She rolled a sip of water around her tongue and found herself unaccountably vexed by her inability to think of how to have him eat.
He would do no one, especially not himself, any favours if he didn't. Sarah leaned forward and tapped the tablecloth some inches away from his plate. Eat, don't play.
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"Right," he said, glancing at her finger and then back at the plate. "Sorry. I guess I just get easily distracted. Short attention span."
It was difficult to focus on much of anything when any one thing that got his attention could trigger a vision. If he kept jumping around, he didn't have to worry so much about inane gut feelings about what would happen if he ate the peas before the carrots, and so on.
Of course, eating the damn food instead of staring at it would also keep that from happening. He skewered the pea on the end of his fork and then ate it. A moment later, the fork was returning to his plate to poke at his salad a little.
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Prying about his powers would invite questions into hers. Sarah dismissed that as an option.
She shifted in her seat, crossing her left ankle over her right, and decided that, perhaps, ignoring the mystery would be for the best.
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He did, however, save one pea on his plate. Just for the purpose of rolling around with his fork when the rest was gone.
"Not bad," he murmured. Even if he hadn't really tasted it.
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Instead, she found her eyes drawn to the tables no one looked at. The ninth graders. The food she'd eaten turned to lead in her stomach as the sight of one familiar head, a pair of eyes that she'd known better than anyone... before.
She'd ignored him earlier and would continue to do so. It was hard to not look at him sometimes. And harder still to not think that he, too, would be a curse.
Her brother, Seth, rolled his eyes at some comment a girl with a pert face said, and laughed. Sarah set her fork down a little too hard and closed her eyes.
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The grade nines were making him dizzy. They had last year, but last year had been worse.
"You know one of them?"
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