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{* the vending machine takes his change. his eyes narrow on the bright red picture of cola just waiting to be tasted—he bites out a curse before stiffening outright. shocked. } no, no, no, /no/. {* he can feel it, lingering at the edges of his senses, as he turns in slow motion to gaze upon the figure approaching the machine with horror. tall, pretty; she's only damned by the butterflies that he can feel in his stomach as she smiles and blushes at something on her phone. he's going to be ill— }

( * she finds that this route was important—very, very important. the character who had appealed to her the most—the shadowy, mysterious demon king—was finally beginning to open up to her and reveal layer upon layer of moe. she couldn’t afford to fuck this up. he had to love her. ) oh gardis— ( * she’s an idiot too sucked into her phone’s little game, into how the pile of pixels that had tried to kill her just a few hours ago was taking her to his favourite secret part of his palace—what progress! a line of text finishes her off for the next few minutes, and she slams on her home button, slipping her phone into her pocket as she cradles her own cheeks. looking ahead fo her, she tilts her head at the sight of an unfamiliar boy, staring at her in what appears to be horror—she looks behind her, searching for something, obviously confused, before whipping back around. ) is there something on my face? ( * o A o )

#nerdri #fcx17 #!sk #scr!pt #!taeyong

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coming through! {* hunger gets the best of him at precisely 2:30 in the afternoon. he doesn't care if he's not a student, or what the daily special is, as long as it fills up the gaping hole that is his stomach so that he can cope a little longer. why hasn't he left yet? damned if he knows—a mysterious inner voice that doesn't sound like him chances a guess that he likes it and taeyong shivers— } oh, /shut up/. {* he weaves through half empty tables toward the back and slams his tray down. } hi.

( _it’s not that zitao doesn’t appreciate the food that the school has to offer, for there’s a significant amount of care that’s put into the meals that he finds touching. rather, his system yearns for something more raw, with life still seeping from its form. the thought should’ve made him sick, but it only drew saliva. he stirs the food on his tray with metal chopsticks, wondering the easiest way to go about his food. jolts at noise, turning to the source with a surprised look ) hi? hi. ( _ feeling obligated to say something. continues— ) sup. ( _ah, yes—much observance had allowed tao to sneak slang into his growing vocabulary. he does well to disguise his pride )

#fcx17 #p_ask #ch_taeyong

{* what the hell is this place? the amount of emotional shit hitting the fan at any given time is enough to drive any sane empath—an oxymoron this early in the morning? noooo, he didn't—away, quaking in their boots. but taeyong, SEVENTEEN, is too badass for that. he parades inside, lips curved into a light frown and hands in his pockets. he approaches the receptionists desk and wonders at her contentment like it's a symptom of disease. } hi, how do i get back to town? {* maybe he's just lost. }

{ * what should she do today? train? celena doesn’t feel too much like it — not when it seems to be evolving in ways she’s not even sure as to how to deal with; as of now, she feels she would possibly place on as dangerous of a level as any beginner if she tries to do anything out of the norm (or not, out of the norm — needless to say she won’t be jumping or hopping or skipping anytime soon)—so she wanders around aimlessly, starting from the top and ending on the ground floor of the main building, just in time to watch a little "show" with...a new student? } hey! dude--y'need help or something? { * blinks a few times, better she helps him than that cranky ahjumma to be honest }

#fcx17 #* kty