Feb 24
Sitting at the Zenith and still hungry for more
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Sitting at the Zenith and still hungry for more
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Gerry could feel the January air against his skin as he road up towards the marketplace, his blue eyes scanning the area with great care. He was a quick-witted man and always thinking about his next move, he liked to take in his surroundings. He noticed the gathering as he reached the centre of the markets. Had something happened? “Hello there, could I have a moment of your time?” he said to a nearby person as he dismounted down from his horse. “Do you know what’s going on here?” he asked, nodding to the situation in the market. Since recent events, he spent a lot of the day riding, moving from place to place. He helped where he could and night was creeping in. It was getting colder outside. “Maybe I can help.”
"Believe me, those vines are more likely to cut your boot than you are to crush it." Gloved hands pushed back on the prickly green rope that grew against the limestone. It would stuck the whole thing dry if she did not cut it from the root and seal the cracks. Aggie wondered if she'd need to make more wax as she pulled the blunt blade from her pocket, feeling towards the root. "Could you please move your boot away regardless." She did want the vine, of course, there would be use for it as long as the root came out gently with it. She could have coaxed it out more...organically by her own means, has someone else not been present. The plant was rough, rigid, and desperate to seek water where it could, if only she could have told it the garden was on the other side of the wall.
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Floyd may very well be the only person in academia who likes office hours. As much as he takes his job seriously, there’s only so much he can do with students in a classroom setting; one-on-one time often yield the best results in them. Not everybody feels comfortably seeking out the counsel and expertise of their professors, unfortunately, so he usually found himself talking with other faculty instead. But not always.
While in the middle of packing up his things to go, he hears a knock at the door, ultimately finding someone standing there. “Oh, hello,” begins Floyd. “I was actually going to head out right about now, but if there’s anything you would like to discuss, I suppose I could stick around,” he says, offering the other a polite smile.
Legs crossed at the ankle and back flush against the brick behind the dorms, Leonard flips through the pages of his music theory notes with nimble fingers. He’d already taken the brunt of his theater director’s stress earlier in the day when he fumbled his lines. An armature mistake-- but the embarrassment of screwing up, rehearsal or not, was never something that the performer took lightly. Averting his gaze from the pages in his notebook, he chides. “You’re making me awfully nervous, there.” Despite his words, a bit of a grin forms upon his features. “Um-- something you needed? Or, should I just...” Leo gestures with his notebook.
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Perhaps he was walking through campus in near-freezing temperatures wearing nothing but a pair of tight boxer-shorts, a can-do smile and a lit cigarette peeking from between his teeth, but stranger things had happened in the word, and he shant be judged for his slight indiscretions. Especially ones that had gotten him laid. Thankfully, late at night as it was, there were as many people around the grounds as there were parents that cared for him on the earth; that is, few-to-none.
Minutes into his journey, with his smoke nearing the end of it’s life, Finn took the stairs two at a time to approach the only door he knew to be unlocked, onto to find the entrance covered by the form of another person. He released a sigh in the form of smoke matched with cold air and shook his head. “Might stepping asid there, Lad? I’m about thirty seconds from losing my unmentionables.” He paused, then smiled, tapping the smoke to release ash.
“Unless you’re too busy catching a peek. In which case, y’can do it further inside. Where I’m now dying a death of cold.”
Developing pictures for his photography elective, Arlo feels a presence looming behind him as the small dark-room is briefly lit up from the hall-- indicating to him that someone has entered. “Ugh... You’ll absolutely ruin my project.” He snaps his head over his shoulder to give them a bit of a look. “Just going to stand there watching me, like a half-wit, you ninny? You must be dead from the neck up...” Arlo rolls his ocean hues at them, hanging his final photograph and shaking off his hands before turning to face them under the dim red lighting, carefully adjusting his rolled up sleeves. “What is it, then?”
Sebastion had grown bored of the quiet Monday evening he had planned for himself and decided to head out for a drink or two. He had finished all his work due for the next day early and figured a treat was in store. Seb popped a couple pills before heading down to the pub close to campus. Once there, he planted himself firmly in one of the seats and order a whiskey ginger.