Autumn in New York

[Artisn]

"Um...

Yea."

Art gazed for a solid moment. She had sudden turn awkward...bizzare, but he would have to play it ignorantly. There was no room for dropping back into isolation without some hope to hold back on. Friendliness never could be classified as a wrong, and any chance of a smile to grace his path was worth any bizzareness.

"Then it's a date."

[Anja Drake]

“Sounds great!”
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Anja glowed with delight; maybe just maybe this would work out. She moved quickly to unzip her leather jacket, spending all day on a plane had made her relatively hot. Tossing the jacket on her bed, Anja reached up slowly to remove the chopsticks in order to release her hair.
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“So, what kind of art do you do?” Flipping her dark hair over her shoulder, Anja slipped the sleek beaded chopsticks into her back pocket of her jeans. “Are you a painter? A sculptor?”
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Drake spoke and glided out of the room at the same time, straightening her cashmere sweater in the process. She paused momentarily to shut the door before starting up along side Artisn again.

[Artisn]

She seemed excited.

Artisn hoped for genuineness in it all. Betrayal was troublesome to swallow, and Art wasn't acquainted with it enough to grasp it's impossible anguish. Relationships he carried never held such decrepit ties that could falter under the slightest weight and tear his heart out. Despite the thought, he could only smile.

He liked talking...again.

"Graffiti..."

From observation Art acknowledge she wasn't exactly normal. Anja had a voice on her that blossom on her tongue, and could not be ignored. Graffiti was world renown, but she didn't carry that charisma that knew it to well. Although he was far too prepared to explain the culture, he grabbed up another topic. There was much to talk about--the two had only met.

"Soooo, whatchu doin' er?

[Anja Drake]

‘Crud.’ Anja really needed to find a good way to explain her powers.
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“Uh, well. I have a problem with controlling my powers when I get . . . upset.” She was off to a good start; now she hoped it would stay that way. Things that ran in her favor rarely lasted long. “I come from a family of mutants and my mother thought sending me here, like they sent my uncle, would help me.”
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The tone of her voice dropped but not greatly. It wasn’t because speaking of her family made her uneasy, it was explaining her power. . .maybe powers if anyone found out her blindness.
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“I didn’t disagree with them, although I was skeptical about coming here. I want to understand my powers just as much as my family does.”
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It came out a lot better than she thought; never stating her powers until they need to be stated. It was her safe area, she would never understand why it was.
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“What exactly is it that you do, Artisn?”

[Artisn]

"They are....complicated."

Art would leave it at that. Over the years he had conformed to his abilities, they became apart from him. No longer did he embody the irregular attributes, but the skills had created a dominion over him. Life was a struggle with such an absurd mutation, but he managed.

At least in servitude to the craziness created.

"You'll see eventually....," he added, throwing his eyes off into the bed room. The dorm was a bit different than his. A light illuminated the room dimly, but he couldn't help to differentiate the subtle coloration of the wall and the vacancy of character.

His room was a bit...different.

"...Wells, imma take off. I'll catchu afta class, ay?"

[Anja Drake]

Nodding in agreement with him, Anja shoved her class sheet in her other back pocket. Her stomach growled again; the idea of heading to the cafeteria was starting to sound better and better. She was pretty sure that her History class didn’t start until later this evening.
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“Sure, I will see you later then.” She grinned up at him before backing down the way they had come. “If you want to find me, I’ll be around anyplace that has food.”
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Anja snickered quietly and brushed her dark hair out of her face. She stopped mid-step and flashed her teeth at him.
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“Oh, and Artisn. It was very nice to meet you.” She continued down the hall but not before giving him a slight wink.

[Bernard Bass]

Bernard walked around the grounds of the school by himself for almost an hour. He needed time alone, time to accept his new situation. He was not ready to be “just another student.” He had never been just another student. In the classroom or on the football field, Bernard was far from ordinary. He was gifted even in beating cancer.

Bernard excelled at everything he did. But for the first time in his life, he was unconfident and scared. He was now an average student. Bernard wasn’t sure how he would handle being average. There was only one way to find out.

Bernard Bass nervously walked to the doors of the Dr. Cullen’s Institute for Gifted Youngsters. He knew that opening the door would change his life forever. The doors slowly pushed open and Bernard Bass stepped into his new destiny.

[Tess Abrahams]

Tess frowned at Marty's heaping tray as she listened, shuffling some spinach from her salad bowl onto his napkin. "Say no to scurvy, Batdude." The girl twisted off the cap of her water and took a long swallow before placing it down and nibbling on the end of a carrot stick.

"Bad luck, huh?" Tess shook her head. "I dunno Carlos, maybe I'd better just stick with Marty here, I don't want to start off on the wrong foot." Although her teasing grin suggested otherwise.

"So, hey, what're the classes like here?" There was more than a little curiousity in the question; The only group-interaction Tess had ever had was during training, and she severely doubted that tumbling around in leotards was a daily activity at Cullen's. Much to the boys chagrin, no doubt.

[Damien E. Dervish]

The purple girl didn't seem very talkative. Damien merely shrugged. He tried to be nice. If she didn't play nice, then he wouldn't waste his time......

"Okaaaaay. Have a nice day."

Damien turned back to the line, and continued to bounce the hackeysack back and forth.

Thirty minutes later, Damien got the proper paperwork. After getting himself signed in, and assigned to a room, Damien carried his things up to the room. He decided to settle in, picking a bunk and putting his belongings in the assigned dressers. Once done, he looked at the schedule, the hackeysack still bounding on his tail. He saw that the first hour or so was dedicated to touring the grounds, groups being assigned either by alphabetical order or by a first-come-first-serve basis. Irregardless, he was ready to get situated, and then get rustle up some grub.

Rubbing his large, felty, and pointy ears, Damien left the room, bouncing the hackeysack from his tail to his head, off of his wings, and back to the tail again, smiling widely. Damien had great plans for this great place and time in his life......