Author Topic: The Gentleman's Rules  (Read 12275 times)

Jonas

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on: January 01, 2011, 12:54:58 PM
It could have been worse, Claire thought as she trudged along the muddy road. She could have had to make the delivery during last night’s rainstorm instead of afterwards. At least now there was just fresh muck and gray skies instead of pouring wet. The messenger adjusted her satchel whilst sidestepping a puddle. A glance to the side confirmed the familiar oak that marked the halfway point between her village of Highbank and Faraway city. The knotty bark reminded Claire, as it always did, of her uncle’s face that one time he ate an entire lemon on a bet. Her thoughts trailed off at the memory, and she wondered idly if she should try and find him after making the delivery in Faraway. Then she wondered if there would be enough time. Then she was knocked to the ground.

Sennel Wright adjusted his glasses to avoid the sun’s glare as he made his way down the street. The irksome sphere shone unobscured by clouds and made it difficult to see through the shop windows he passed. Through the sglass he saw an interesting clock in an antique store and cupped his hands against the window to try and better make out its woodwork pattern. It was just after Sennel had figured out that the markings above the clock face were in fact of skulls rather than apples that a woman walked into him carrying two large paper bags

“Oof! Watch it!” grunted the woman as she rebounded off Sennel and dropped one of the bags.  It fell to the ground and spilled cosmetics across the sidewalk. “Now look what you’ve done!” She spat out irritably.
“Oh!” the young man exclaimed. He knelt down immediately and grabbed a tube of lipstick before it rolled off the curb. “Sorry! I was looking in the window—let me help, please!”  
“You’d better help! I paid good money for these and if I lose any of them you’ll pay, I promise!”
Sennel finished collecting the escaped makeup. “Again, I’m terribly sorry.” He repeated as apologetically as he could. “I’ll work harder to be more aware next time. Please, have a nice day.”

There was no reply. The woman merely glared and turned her head in a huff before marching past. Sennel very much wanted to add a request for the woman to watch her own surroundings in the future, but it wouldn’t have been right. A gentleman did not draw attention to the failings of those around him. At least, he consoled himself, the encounter had been brief.

The messenger’s last breath choked on her own blood. The satchel slipped from her arm and fell open upon muddy ground. Blood congealed around the site as the letters, missives, and packages were sifted until a single book was removed. The tome was unremarkable from all outward appearances save for the cover’s curious shade of blue. A quick flip of the pages confirmed the book’s nature. The woman’s broken body, useless as it was, remained for the elements.
« Last Edit: January 06, 2011, 02:45:05 PM by Jonas »

"Technically speaking, phoenixes are actually pretty flammable." --Donnie


Jonas

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Reply #1 on: January 01, 2011, 07:39:27 PM
Sennel Wright adjusted his glasses to avoid the sun’s glare as he made his way down the street. The irksome sphere shone unobscured by clouds and made it difficult to see through the shop windows he passed. Through the glass he saw an interesting clock in an antique store and cupped his hands against the window to try and better make out its woodwork pattern. It was just after Sennel had figured out that the markings above the clock face were in fact of skulls rather than apples that a woman walked into him carrying two large paper bags.

“Oof! Watch it!” grunted the woman as she rebounded off Sennel and dropped one of the bags.  It fell to the ground and spilled cosmetics across the sidewalk. “Now look what you’ve done!” She spat out irritably.
“Oh!” the young man exclaimed. He knelt down immediately and grabbed a tube of lipstick before it rolled off the curb. “Sorry! I was looking in the window—let me help, please!”  
“You’d better help! I paid good money for these and if I lose any of them you’ll pay, I promise!”

Sennel finished collecting the escaped makeup. “Again, I’m terribly sorry.” He repeated as apologetically as he could. “I’ll work harder to be more aware next time. Please, have a nice day.”

There was no reply. The woman merely glared and turned her head in a huff before marching past. Sennel very much wanted to add a request for the woman to watch her own surroundings in the future, but it wouldn’t have been right. A gentleman did not draw attention to the failings of those around him. At least, he consoled himself, the encounter had been brief.

The messenger’s last breath choked on her own blood. The satchel slipped from her arm and fell open upon muddy ground. Blood congealed around the site as the letters, missives, and packages were sifted until a single book was removed. The tome was unremarkable from all outward appearances save for the cover’s curious shade of blue. A quick flip of the pages confirmed the book’s nature. The woman’s broken body, useless as it was, remained for the elements.

The Chapters store was thankfully air-conditioned; offering a respite from the summer heat. Sennel pulled a hastily written list from his pocket and glanced repeatedly down at it as he weaved through the aisles of books. Austen, O’Brien, Sawyer, Carver, each author had their works added to the increasingly unstable pile in Sennel’s arms. Several times he would stop as a favoured title caught an eye, but it was a longing look and little else. Sennel’s funds were limited as they were, and a gentleman couldn’t compromise his education for pleasure.

 “That’s...quite the collection.” The cashier noted conversationally when Sennel reached checkout.
“It’s quite the course-load.” Sennel corrected. “First semester begins on Monday and I’m starting my English major.”

The cashier muttered an ‘oh’ as he wrung up the stack. Sennel thought he detected a note of pity or disdain, but he couldn’t be sure. He paid with two gift cards and a twenty and made his way to the bus stop carrying the stack divided between two bags.

Pearls formed in the mouth of a child, tuft from a wise man’s head, a tomcat’s hind legs? Ebony feathers, fur turned to glass, a rose from a noble’s garden? The materials called for were a combination of the utterly bizarre and the ridiculously common without any hint of underlying logic. Help would be needed to gather them all, but who could be trusted? No one, of course; so the question became, who could be used?

Sennel set down the bag of books and flopped onto the couch when he returned home. The excursion was more tiring than he had thought, but at least it was out of the way. Double-checking the list confirmed that he had everything he needed for the start of class. As shepherd’s pie cooked in the microwave, Sennel put the recent purchases into a leather pack alongside a stack of paper and box of pencils. The microwave dinged, and dinner was eaten.

Between bits of mashed potatoes, meat, and corn, Sennel considered the rest of the evening.  A book seemed thematically appropriate considering what would begin tomorrow, but he couldn’t bring himself to start a new story with classes about to distract him. Laptop was packed and put away, so the internet was out. It would be a movie, then, something from pay-per-view to tide him over until sleep. Hoodwinked was selected from the listings; a nice, fun story that Sennel wouldn’t be up late dwelling on. One washed dinner plate later, he curled up on the couch with a bowl of brownie fudge ice cream and let the fairy tale begin.
« Last Edit: January 05, 2011, 12:02:53 PM by Jonas »

"Technically speaking, phoenixes are actually pretty flammable." --Donnie


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Reply #2 on: January 04, 2011, 08:35:47 PM
Sounds cool so far.  I think you are trying to push the "gentleman" thing too much, though.  Really all you need is the first scene with him being overly nice to the mean woman.  "A gentleman is always prepared" doesn't really make sense or apply... I don't really think of gentlemen as carrying around pencils when they don't need them. That's more like the boy scout motto. [;)

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Jonas

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Reply #3 on: January 04, 2011, 09:02:32 PM
Noted, I'll keep in mind how often I use that.

"Technically speaking, phoenixes are actually pretty flammable." --Donnie


Jonas

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Reply #4 on: January 05, 2011, 12:03:09 PM
That part had gone easier than expected. What were the chances the brat would be persuaded so easily? Then again, he was offered an easy way out, so it shouldn’t be that surprising he accepted. The materials lay across the ground per the book’s instruction. Each word was precise, each action measured, each thought exact. It had begun.

A shaft of sunlight struck Sennel’s eye. It flickered open, groggy with sleep, and a yellow iris squinted against the brightness. The eye saw sky, clouds, and towering trees. It took several moments for Sennel it register that such sights were not normally encountered indoors.  Faint awareness trickled in to his still-waking mind, but he noted mildly that the grass, while soft, paled in comparison to the couch he had fallen asleep on. A falling leaf landed on his cheek. Sennel raised a hand dreamily to brush it awa—

“OWCH!” He yelped—it was a hard, rough bark that sent nearby birds to the air—he had cut himself! Sennel scrambled up to check. Sure enough, a drop of blood glistened in the sunlight as it dripped from a...claw? Several things forced themselves upon Sennel’s mind in that instant; shortened fingers tipped with sharp claws, leathery pads upon his palms that gave way to a dusty brown fur across his body, an unfamiliar appendage swaying behind him, and an elongated face tipped in a dark, wet nose. The meaning pressed against Sennel’s thoughts, but to recognize it would mean to acknowledge something that couldn’t exist outside the page. His mind recoiled and fled, taking refuge in the only sane thought it could muster: that he had most definitely missed the bus.
« Last Edit: January 05, 2011, 09:11:44 PM by Jonas »

"Technically speaking, phoenixes are actually pretty flammable." --Donnie


Jonas

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Reply #5 on: January 06, 2011, 02:48:45 PM
...he had missed the bus. The thought echoed as the notion of its absurdity crept in. Was that really all he could worry about? Here he was, in an unknown wood by some unknown means and in an unknown body, yet his first thought was that he would be late for class! Sennel’s tail wagged in time with his howling laughter as he fell against a nearby tree. It took a good five minutes for Sennel to calm himself. In doing so, he found himself reaching a strange catharsis. There was no adequate way to describe it, save that it was similar to how he felt after crying. All in all, Sennel was surprised that he had not flung into outright panic or fear. A gentleman must always stay collected, he knew, but that rule had never really come up before. Regardless of the reason, Sennel knew he could not hide behind emotions in this situation—it was time to act. The first order of business was to gauge Sennel’s own situation. He ran a hand...paw...whatever...along his body and found that, beneath the dusty brown fur, his muscles had become larger and more defined. Sennel’s clothes were torn from strain; his shirt had split through the middle and his pants—while mostly intact—were torn around the knees. His glasses were missing, but his eyes seemed fine regardless.

Pushing off from the tree, Sennel stepped forward and looked around at his surroundings. He was in a clearing of some sort, but the trees did not look familiar. The grass was burnt in odd places, and if Sennel squinted and turned his head a certain way, he thought he saw patterns emerging in the scorched green. His eye caught on something glinting in the sun, and upon inspection he found his glasses lying on the ground. Sennel pick them up and automatically tried to put them on. As his ears were now on top of his head rather than the side, the frames slipped and hung awkwardly on his muzzle. Irritated, Sennel pocketed them before making his way out of the clearing. He could not help but notice as he walked that his paw-like feet were automatically shifting to balance on their padded ends and that his tail swayed automatically for stability. These feelings were alien, but the movements, strangely not.

"Technically speaking, phoenixes are actually pretty flammable." --Donnie