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Post by Praline Kline on Jun 21, 2006 12:08:52 GMT -4
-pops in- is the Molly...with a new charrie! is bored...no one is on...will make a post... -noddles- "It's a bird...its a plane...no! it's Super Post" -snickers-
What's in name? One girl could tell you. On December 1st, 1989, at 5 am, Martha Kline sat in a hospital bed in California next to her husband Joe, holding her new baby girl and all doped up on pain medication. Since the happy couple had chosen not to know the gender of their new bouncing baby bundle, they pondered over a name that would perfectly suit their sweet baby girl. "It's perfect. I love it." Years later, her mother would tell her it was because she wanted to give her daughter a name that was the epitome of all things sweet and sugary. Her father would tell her it was because her mother was addicted to the stuff during a pregnancy. But despite the reason they named their child, and I swear, Praline. You know, a confection made of nut kernels, especially almonds or pecans, stirred in boiling sugar syrup until crisp and brown. Usually stuffed inside a chocolate truffle. Yeah, Praline. Personally, she thought it was the drugs her mother was on to cope with the pains of giving birth that accounted for her significant lapse in judgment when naming her first born. But, whatever the cause, it was her name, and she was stuck with it. In fact, she grew to love it. It was original, and fun, a great conversation starter and reasonably, she couldn’t picture herself with any other name than that one. Plus, she loved the occasional reaction she got when she extended her hand and said “Hi, my name’s Praline.”
From there, people usually went on to ask what her sibling’s names were. Brownie? Twinkie? Pez? Actually, she only had one, fairly new, sibling. And his name was Conner. It’s worth mentioning that her mother had chosen to have a natural birth this time, without drugs, and he got a perfectly normal name…Martha and Joe Kline were pretty normal names to. So is it any wonder that the daughter with the out-of-place name is different than the other cookie-cutter people in the family. It’s like that game that little kids play “One of these things is not like the other…” and she was it. It wasn’t just the fact that her name was pretty crazy in itself, or the fact that her banana-blonde hair didn’t come from the gene pool of either parent (the were both brunettes). Oh no, it went much deeper than that.
“You’re special, Miss Kline…” the Dean of Hawthorne Academy had told her when he first set up an interview with her family.
“No shit,” She snorted, and immediately regretted it. The guy wasn’t one to mess with.
“I’m serious.” And he was. “You’re parents think you are going to a school for gifted, intelligent students, and that is the pretence you will follow when talking to them about it. I don’t believe they’d be as…accepting as we’d have hoped. Do you understand?”
Thus were the circumstances at which Praline Kline found herself at the Hawthorne Academy. Why? Because as the Dean had so graciously put it, she was special. She was different. At least she was in the real world. I mean, how many normal people do you know that have the ability to project illusions and images onto the eyes of others? An Illusionist is what professors called her, but personally she though that made her sound like some corny magician with a wand and cape. But it did describe her situation perfectly.
When she was seven, Praline had wanted a pony. What little girl didn’t? But Praline didn’t ask for a pony. She thought it. She pictured it, and boom, there it was in front of not only her eyes, but her father’s as well. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t tangible. And her mother couldn’t even see it. She had conjured the image before her father’s eyes for a brief moment, long enough for him to question it and have Martha Kline insist that he stop yard work right away and come inside for a lie down. The heat was obviously going to his head. But it didn’t stop there. When you come into powers at such a young age, and are blessed enough to realize what they are, you can hone them, practice and learn. Now, at sixteen, Praline was skilled enough, that the Dean was worried. If she wanted someone to fall off a cliff, all she had to do was cast the illusion of a bridge, and with one step they would tumble down to their doom. Not that she would, but it was a dangerous power that the Dean felt needed to be kept under surveillance. Plus, he had hinted that if she got good enough, she could be quite a powerful asset to the Team.
“That is, if you can truly learn the magnitude and responsibility of your gift.”
Yeah yeah. That was nice and all, but as things were she was quite content with using her power play pranks. She wasn’t ready for responsibility like that, and she knew it. She was perfectly satisfied with spending her weekends on her but, eating Mexican food and watching I Love Lucy Marathons, going to parties, or kicking the soccer ball around on the campus field.
Which was exactly what she was doing Tuesday after school.
Tryouts for the soccer team weren’t until next week, and she couldn’t think of a better way to spend her night than blowing off studies in favor of a little extra practice. Not that she really needed it. She was a natural and had had a starting varsity position at her old school. To her, it wasn’t practice; it was, as clichéd as it may sound, fun. The adrenaline, the heat of the game, the control she had over the ball; it all added up to a natural high that was completed when she would kick the ball in a high arch toward a goal.
The sky hadn’t even begun to darken as she dribbled out to the center of the field, ready to break in her new cleats. They were pink. Yanking her long blonde hair back into an elastic, she tossed her water bottle over on the sidelines. It was a scorcher. Summer was coming to an end sadly, but it still left behind that humid, 93-degree weather. Hence her attire of a simple white Nike exercise bra and blue shorts; in this heat, there was no time to be modest. Accompanied with her shin guards and socks, she dribbled around the field, practicing her fancy footwork. Spectators, students on their way to their dorms, paused to watch her as she dribbled around, but none staying longer than five minutes. She had heard through the grape vine that there were other soccer junkies like her, just waiting to take her on, but she wasn’t nervous. Actually, she was quite thrilled. She loved a challenge, and any other serious soccer player wouldn’t hold back or be jealous, they’d meet that challenge and hopefully come out with a great, and winning season.
Smiling, she kicked the soccer ball straight up, were it flew high in the air. As it came down, she did a quick bicycle kick right into the goal. Practice makes perfect.
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Liao Zhang
Junior Member
Sometimes the silent ones are the ones you should fear the most
Posts: 59
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Post by Liao Zhang on Jun 21, 2006 14:56:13 GMT -4
"You are a sad excuse for a man, you should have been born a girl little Li, all you really need are a few bows and your close enough. Mother and father sure are lucky I'M the one inheriting the buisiness. Everyone knows little girly Li couldn't handle it."
"Li! What are you doing? Don't you know art is a waste of time? Why can't you be more like your brother? Why can't you focus on your studies instead of always this insesent drawing?!"
"Liao...your father is worried you do not take school serious enough. You need to step up my baby son, your embarassing the name of Zhang."
Born and Bred in Taiwan, Liao is the youngest of of Xio Zhang. Of Zhang enterprises, the famous technical company and one of Taiwans largest producers of car parts. Xio isn't an abusive father, hes never cheated on Liao's mother, he has never abandoned his son in a mall and he's even defended him against Boa(Who obviously can not talk back to his father). How ever, now and then, Xio has been known to be harsh. Art is really,Liao's only passion in life other than archery, the only task he and his father has ever taken part in together. Sadly, artists don't make money. Art isn't a living, it can't buy you food or shelter or love of a good woman, as his father always tells him. Anger.
His brother. Boa. The tallest boy to ever grace the name of Zhang, at a staggering 6'2 currently, has been beating up his youngest brother since he was three years old. He has no real reason to. Liao has always figured his brother knew his secret from birth. That Boa sensed something was wrong. That Boa resented their differences. Or maybe it was just the brotherly thing. You know, siblings tend to wail on each other from time to time. Especially the older/stronger on the younger/weaker. Anger.
A mothers love is something special. Sun was a good mother. She cooked, she cleaned, she was on the board of trustees at his fathers business(the place the two met), the only woman to ever sit at the long black table in their conferance room. She was the first person to hand Liao an arrow, the first one to show him how to paint. It was her secret passion to be an artist herself but ended up a designer for Zhang Enterprises. Not an awful job, but not what she strived for. She, like Liao, was shy and never stood against his fathers word. So, she went along with him. Anger.
All of this, all of these words swarmed inside the boys head, as he walked down the hallway his sophmore year of highschool, books tucked under one arm. His mission: to make it through the day. But the more the words swam, the cloudier his thoughts, the worse mood he was in. He pushed through the crowds of people until someone pushed back. Down he fell, crashing as if almost in slow motion to the cold black tile floor. BRacing himself with his hands he hung his head, letting his long dark hair fall before his eyes before looking up at the boy. Anger...building. Clearing his throat, Liao shook a bit and began gathering his books. As he reached for one, a foot came crashing down on top of it.
"Whats wrong, Little Liao? Afraid of being late for class? Jeeze, don't get all hot and upitty little Liao, we got time to play a little before the bell rings."
With that the boy kicked liao's book across the hall and laughed loudly. Anger...anger...anger. ENOUGH. Liao closed his eyes and growled deep inside his throat. The winds and doors in the hall crashed open, huge gusts of wind filling the hallways. Students papers flew, girls uniform skirts went flying up, people were screaming. And then Liao opened his usually almond color eyes to stare at the boy. He rose onto his feet, as if being carried by the wind and clapped his hands. The wind directed the boy across the hall where Liao's book lay on the ground and the boy was held against the wall as Liao took a step forward and slowly made his way. People were screaming. Choas. Choas. BEAUTIFUL MADNESS. The boy pinned against the wall struggeled and closed his eyes screaming loudly. Thunder pounded outside.
"You want to play? Alright. Lets play human lightbulb."
CRASH. Liao blacked out five seconds later. He was sent to a hospital and when he was revived, he found that a freak storm had sent lightning towards the school that struck the boy. The janitors were still peeling him off the walls. None of the students revealed it was Liao, they were all to much afraid, Liao knew the truth that he had killed this boy. And so did someone else. A man appeared at his house, when he was released by the hospital. The man, calling himself The Dean, told his parents of what really happened that day in the hall. They were shocked but not appauled, it was the first time Liao's father wrapped an arm around his shoulder lovingly. The Dean told them of a school, far from Taiwan, a place in America, in New York City. A place for kids like Liao, with special talents.
Two weeks later, Liao found himself in a country he had only seen on the news.
Language was not a problem. They taught english in schools and that, other than art, was the only class he excelled in. No, the hard part, was being with people. It did not disturb him that he had killed someone. It wasn't as if he had culture shock. It certainly wasn't that he was a nerdy bookworm who didn't know how to be social. No, there were two problems with Liao's coming to Hawthorne Academy. 1. He was shy making it hard to socialize with the children and 2. He didn't like when people touched him. Atleast without permission. If someone touched him, it made him angry. And when he was angry, he was ANGRY.
This was his first year, at Hawthorne. He didn't mind it so much, the professors incouraged his art, which was a new feeling. Never before had anyone ever given him a set of colored charcole in which to manipulate a picture from. Until one of the professors stopped him in the hallway and handed him the gift. Never before had someone seen his art and complimented him on it. Until the Dean saw one of his paintings in passing. He was comfortable here. Plus, they had a feild for archery. And proper equipment though he had brought his own bow from home. It was this field that was on his mind, as he stood infront of the mirror washing his hands clean from paint. Now that he had finished one task, it was time to take on another.
As he boy dried his hands he glanced in the mirror, but not at his face but at his eyes. Since the accident, almost a year ago, his eyes had never returned to their normal almond color. They appeared almost a solid black, as if completly iris. All students here had powers. Very few of them had an physical reprecausions. And however small the color of his eyes might seem to you, it was huge to Liao. The fact that his eyes would forever stay with dark solid color depressed and slightly inraged him. But then most things made him angry. Growling a bit he exited the bathroom and walked two doors down to his room, looking through his trunk for his bow. Fuck no. There lying at the bottom of his large black box, was his bow completly split in two.
Someone gunna diiieeee.
Shaking, the boy closed his eyes trying to do the calming technic his trainer taught him. Think calm, clear your mind. Any problems can be fixed. But this was a bow his mother gave him, one her father had had. And his father. How could he fix this? Tape? Dishonorable. Slaming the box closed he exited the room. Infuriating. Need fresh air. But as he passed the windows in the hall, clambered down the stairs and pushed open the front doors of the academy the beautiful sky clouded with thick clouds. Wind blew harshly and Liao stepped out onto the lush lawn. Rain or snow Li? Rain or snow? Undecided. For now..thunder will do. The earth shook beneath his feet as thunder roared above him and he marched across the grounds towards the feilds. Don't go to the archery, you'll depress yourself. The baseball feild and volleyball feild were closed for repairs. how you repair a diamond or a square is beyond me. The only place left? Soccer.
Liao angrily thrust himself down at a tree behind one of the goals and closed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. He was a strong boy, and proud of the fact, as it had taken him quiet a while to finally build up a physic he was proud of. After years of immasulcation it was only now he was proud of who he was. The genetic deformity had created self confidence. As he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, a soccer ball whizzed right into his chest. Ow. His eyes shot open, and quickly fell upon the girl. It must have slipt right through the bottom corner of the net. No folly of hers. Liao looked at the ball and placed it a few inches from him, and then returned his arms to the position they were infront of his chest, and glanced at the girl unmoving.
Thunder. Anger.
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Post by Praline Kline on Jun 21, 2006 15:39:18 GMT -4
“Focus, Lina…” Her father’s voice was to her left as the little girl stared at the black and white ball.
She focused. Now what? It was just a stupid ball. She could be having more fun playing pranks on the neighborhood kids with her powers. Just yesterday she had tricked Billy Martin into running into a wall by creating the illusion of a door. She had almost peed herself laughing.
“Keep your eye on the ball, sweet heart. Just look at it, now. Later, we can try dribbling while looking up, but for now just kick the ball.”
“Why?” The question that plagued many parents.
Her father shrugged for maybe the tenth time that day, and instead of answering, he merely pushed his little blonde daughter toward the ball. Giving him a pouty face she had practiced in the mirror, she folded her arms across her chest. Her feet were wet from the remnants of the rain that had come earlier that day and it was getting colder, if it was possible. She couldn’t feel her fingers, and it was getting dark. But there her father stood, his eyes shining. He only wanted to teach his daughter the sport that he himself had fallen in love with. She simply couldn’t say no. She felt her pout melt away, and she looked at the ball again. Stupid ball.
With all her might she kicked the ball and it sailed across the lawn. Instinct told her to chase after it, so she did. She kicked it again, turning to dribble it back to her father. She watched her feet as she dribbled. She couldn’t explain what made her want to play after all the sulking she had done, but she loved the feeling of the ball hitting off her feet. She was racing faster and faster, all her concentration on the ball on the ground in front of her.
Wham! Her shoulder smacked into a tree, and she was sent flying backwards. Little eight-year-old tears came flooding to her cheeks. Not because she had hit the tree, but because she was embarrassed. Her father came over, embarrassed her in a hug, and said the three words that would start her soccer career.
“You’re a natural.”
From there on, she heard those words from her coach, her friends, and her teammates, even collage scouts. Imagine, collage scouts coming to see her play, and she was only a sophomore. She had learned the basics at eight, learned to dribble without looking at the ball by nine, learned the fancy footwork at ten, was a starting player on a team by eleven, went to over night soccer camps by twelve, and just continued to get better. The bicycle kick was her personal favorite, and probably over used by most soccer players, but she couldn’t resist it. She had even perfected it so she could aim while in mid air before her foot made contact. In this instance, her target was the bottom left corner.
Standing from her successful kick, Praline looked up to see a boy standing there, his arms crossed, practically glaring at her. Her ball must’ve hit him.
“Hey, look, I’m sorry.” She waved him down, jogging over to retrieve her ball. No harm, no foul.
As she walked over, she pulled her hair out of it’s ponytail, wondering if she could cheer him up by using a little of her natural charm. She smirked, slowing her jog down to a saunter. He didn’t blink. She stopped in front of him, bending down to pick up her ball. Holding it in the crook of her arm, she tilted her head, trying to meet his eyes. She jumped back a little bit, startled by the black depths of them.
“Whoa…” She said under her breath, running a hand through her hair.
Thunder boomed above her and the wind picked up, making her hair whip around.
“Hi…um…are you all right? I didn’t see you there.” She could feel her brow furrowing.
-ack, got shorter...will be longer next time-
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Liao Zhang
Junior Member
Sometimes the silent ones are the ones you should fear the most
Posts: 59
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Post by Liao Zhang on Jun 21, 2006 18:09:53 GMT -4
Liao watched the girl saunter over to him, her blonde hair flipping happily from her ponytail, moving almost rhythmically with her hips as she stepped. She was pretty. Like every girl at Hawthorne. There really wasn't one girl in the school that stuck out to him as different, that didn't have startling blue eyes or a skinny model physic. It wasn't like he found their polar opposites attractive, its just, deep inside Liao found the school to be....arian/white populated. and the maybe four, five other minorities there were flawless as well. Was something in the water here in America? Were all the American children the image of perfection. Not one of them had any scars or braces or physical attributes that wouldn't land them in a catalogue.
But perhaps that was part of the magic of it all? The fact that they all had flawless skin, toned bodies, sentual voices. That they all excelled in most of what they did. Maybe that was part of their genetic coding, their genetic deformity. Other than his eyes, Liao had no true physical flaws. And though he despised them he had to admit they came in hand. No one could see if he was actually looking at them or not, he could be sizing them up and they might think hes looking to his left or right. No one would ever know. Which helped in this situation, as he watched the girl walk towards him and bend to pick up the ball. She was sweet...but the thought that a simple sorry would excuse her folly was ridiculous to him. More thunder.
"You should check your equipment out before you use it."
His voice was sore. He didn't talk much, as he was shy by nature and didn't really talk to many people unless spoken to at first. Perhaps it was because of his father and brother's years of immasculation or because it was a trait he inherited from his mother. In either case, Liao did not like big crowds of people and wasn't a big conversationalist. Unless in a terrific mood. Which was extremly extremly rare, as you should be able to tell by now he's not exactly all sunshine and daisies.
"WOah.."
No matter how many times he heard that it stung a bit more. Physical imperfection. Another way he stood out, another reason he would never be normal. He embraced his powers, loved the destructio the choas it created. The dean swore one day he would see the good, that he would learn to control his emotions and his powers. Liao didn't care either way, he felt the Dean at times wanted to keep him back, make him part of society again. He didn't want to be like everyone else....but there were times..where he just wanted to be a teenager. Shifting a bit uneasily he quickly stiffened up. You must never show weakness Liao. Never.
"I am fine," he said pausing, "Are you asking because of the appearence or because your truely sorry? Because you shouldn't apologize for fear or shock. Not all of us can hide our differences so easily."
HIs voice was sharp and icey. Thunder and then, lightning. Glorious lightning. It truely was his favorite weather to manipulate. Lightning when angry, sunny when happy, rain his depressed, snow when....whenever. The only thing you will never ever see him create, is a rainbow. You will never see him allow a rainbow to apear in the sky, if it starts to rain and its sunny. BAM. Cloudy sky. There was something about them he just didn't like.
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Post by Praline Kline on Jun 21, 2006 21:37:50 GMT -4
“My equipment? Oh, right, the goal. Yeah, I gues I’ll have to remember to check before I bicycle kick another ball…you know how faulty equipment is?”
She ran a hand through her hair, tying it back to prevent it from whipping her face. The wind picked up more, and she felt she was practically screaming to be heard. Strange weather. It had been a perfectly sunny day, brimming on hellish heat, and all of a sudden the wind made it feel like a freezer. She rubbed her arms, wishing she had brought out a jacket. She looked back up at him, wondering what exactly was going on.
Praline watched as he winced at her stunned expression. She herself had once made that wince before she grew into her hair. It had once been straggly and the color made her look small and almost invisible. She had hid behind her hair. Then she grew three inches, grew up a bit and toned her body through exercise and BAM, instant blonde bombshell. Except...she wasn't. Not really. Sure, she knew she was good looking. But she didn't wave the "Look at me flag" like most other teenage model-types did. Well, only when she felt necessary. And she was smart. Sure, she'd favor partying over studying any day, but when asked to join the cheerleading squad by Whitney Carmical at her, she gave a resounding no. That wasn't her thing. No pom poms and ra ra's for her. No siree. She had a variety of friends, ranging anywhere from deep poet types to her soccer teammates. Once people got past her hair and her looks and took time to know her a little better, a lot of things would surprise them. Like how she didn’t drink. As an avid party goer-most would expect her to be the first to down a beer or a glass of champagne. Instead, she nursed a bottle of water, which she brought with her almost everywhere. It was significant things like that which made her different from every other silly girl at this school. Looks can be deceiving. Praline had perfected the way to be a party animal, and a good human being. Well…unless you were an underclassman. Then chances are you are target practice for this Illusionist.
Not that she hadn’t been picked on before. When soccer had just begun, she was often scoffed at and ridiculed. A little girl who was too tiny for her cleats. She had been nudged, pushed, kicked and hair-pulled more than anyone else on her junior teams. And she had turned out just fine. If anything, it increased her aggressive behavior and helped her learn the values of sticking up for yourself. A competitive edge.
“No…of course…I mean….you just surprised me. Actually, I think it’s kind of cool. Your eyes, I mean…very…alluring…mysterious…” She bit her lip. Still no reaction from him. Creepy, but mystifying. Her sense told her to walk away and continue her personal practice, but her curiosity got the best of her and she pushed on.
“But yeah…I am sorry. I’ve taken a soccer ball to the stomach before so I feel your pain.” She nodded, remembering Shelly Whiteberg who intentionally aimed for her head every time she passed the ball.
“Look, if there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, just say the word.” She nodded, realizing she was talking a lot to compensate for his silence.
She put the ball down in front of her, dribbling it between her feet as a nervous habit. She always had to be moving. It was a tic that developed over time as she became more active in life. She didn’t enjoy sitting down nearly as much as she liked running around, so long as she was doing something. For reason’s like this she couldn’t stand sports like golf, or archery. Her legs needed to be in motion, she needed to be constantly moving to be truly happy. If sleep wasn’t necessary to live, she wouldn’t. She was always late to bed and early to rise in the morning for this reason,
She looked up at him again, a slight smile growing at the corner’s of her mouth.
“You wanna play?” She offered, suggesting a one on one. Maybe he’d loosen up if he realized he didn’t have to be shy around her…
Or maybe not, He just kept staring, and she wasn’t even sure at what. She was used to having people look at her, but not like this. It was like he was perpetually wearing sunglasses.
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Liao Zhang
Junior Member
Sometimes the silent ones are the ones you should fear the most
Posts: 59
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Post by Liao Zhang on Jun 22, 2006 11:21:53 GMT -4
my post is gunna be kinda ridiculous so prepare yourself
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Liao Zhang
Junior Member
Sometimes the silent ones are the ones you should fear the most
Posts: 59
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Post by Liao Zhang on Jun 22, 2006 11:33:51 GMT -4
“No…of course…I mean….you just surprised me. Actually, I think it’s kind of cool. Your eyes, I mean…very…alluring…mysterious…”
Did she just compliment him? If it were three years ago and she was tawianese, and they were back in Taiwan he would have responded with a thank you and a humble nod or something of the sort. But they weren't and she wasn't and this was a different world. And Liao was a different person than he was three years ago. He was weak then, 'nerdy, powerless. And now look at him. With a snap of his fingers he could create a tornado more powerful than anything the world has ever seen. And here was this girl, complimenting him because she was unsure of who he was, she was scared, uncertain of the situation. he could imagine what was going on in her head. Why the sudden change in weather? Why is this boy just sitting here staring.
"Make it up?"
He couldn't believe that thought had passed his lips. Had he really said that outloud. His eyebrows raised a bit and he looked away from her for a moment. There were moments, when even Li couldn't control his actions, his thoughts. He hated those moments. They made him feel weak and strange. Like he had no control over himself, like he was that nerdy weak kid back in Taiwan. That's not who he wanted to be. He was Liao Zhang, The Storm, the devil incarnate. Ok well not the devil incarnate but someone had actually called him that once. His parents were appualed. He was amused at the thought.
Play? If he didn't want to play he would send her away. And he didn't want to play but for some reason, he wanted her to be here infront of him. Liao was angry, sure. But even Angry people get lonely now and then and to be honest, this was his first time talking to a student since...since perhaps the first day of school. But he didn't want her to play, he wanted her to talk. How to stop her. Without showing any emotion of thought on his face, he blinked and the rain began. And not gradually, it just all came down. And yet he remained completly dried. Flipping his long hair away from his eyes, he continued to stare at her.
Lightning.
"What is your name?"
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Post by Praline Kline on Jun 22, 2006 13:56:40 GMT -4
What could compel a person to just stare like that? Sure, she was used to being stared at. But most boys didn't have the guts to look her in the eyes, And it pissed her off. Just because she was pretty, didn't mean she wasn't human. She watched him intently, wrapped up in a whirlwind of thoughts. Who was this guy? What was his deal? Why were his eyes like that? Was he the type to hurt a girl? She shivered at the last thought.
And then the rains came. It was like the skies just opened and released the same mass of water that Noah faced right after he loaded up the animals two by two.
"What the-" It was pouring. Loud and cold. It caught her off guard, but she smiled.
Ever since she was a little girl, Praline loved the rain. She loved to dance in it, to run in it, to jump in huge puddles made by it. One summer, her mother had run out and bought her the cutest little girl rain boots and matching parka. They hung in the closet all summer long, collecting dust as little Praline ran outside in shorts and a tank top, just happy the way she was. So was it any wonder she was thrilled at this odd string of weather?
Squealing with pleasure, she ran out from the shelter she had from her tree and spun around a few times, holding her head up to the sky, sticking her tongue out to accept the fat drops of rain. The rest of the world melted away as she danced, not caring how ridiculous she looked or how cold it was. She did a lap around the goal post, before doing a series of sloppy cartwheels around the end of the field.
And then the lightning struck. Shocked out of her little world, she looked up, like a deer in headlights, to where the guy stood. He stood there, calm as ever, his eyes not faltering to blink...and he was dry. He hadn't even been sheltered by the tree. Instead, it was almost as if the rain avoided him completely, or like it bounced off a clear force field. Was that his power? A force field? Mesmerized, she walked slowly over to where he was, brushing her wet bangs out of her eyes for a better look. Goose bumps rose on her arms, and not because she was cold. There was an odd electricity around him, she noticed as she got closer, but she kept coming until she was only a few inches from him. They stood there like that, her soaking to the bone and him being perfectly dry, only inches away from one another, until she found her voice.
"I'm Praline Kline." However hesitant she might have been, she said her name with pride.
She didn't hold out her hand to shake, but instead, kept looking at him. He was...cute. That was for sure. But also very...she shook her head, stepping back. There was something almost dangerous about him. She swallowed, forcing back a lump in her throat. Praline made it a habit not to fear anything in life, so she didn't like the present situation. Plus, she couldn't recall standing this still in a long time. She cleared her throat, putting a little more space between them. She wasn't the silent type, but he had put her at a loss for words.
"And you are?" She did the head tilt out of pure habit.
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Liao Zhang
Junior Member
Sometimes the silent ones are the ones you should fear the most
Posts: 59
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Post by Liao Zhang on Jun 22, 2006 16:09:41 GMT -4
BWahahahha -grins- -boudns off to post-
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Liao Zhang
Junior Member
Sometimes the silent ones are the ones you should fear the most
Posts: 59
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Post by Liao Zhang on Jun 22, 2006 16:21:01 GMT -4
He had never seen such behavior in his whole life. EVerytime it rained, Liao was used to seeing people scream and run for cover, especially girls. GOD forbid they get their hair wet or live once and a while. Even before he killed that boy, before he realized his powers, Liao had loved the rain, the snow...weather in general. He was his happiest when he was outside, on the hill just outside their country home(they had an apartment in the city but frequented the country). Weather was a release of everything. It seemed to relinquish peoples lust and anger, their happiness their true intentions. You'll find a person is most passionate in the rain, kindest in the sun, caring in the wind, playful in the snow. Typically...or angry in pretty much every trait of weather. This was fascinating, how long could she go on for?
It sort of made him curious and yet angry. How could she be so fearless? So different?
Lightning.
And then she stopped. Liaos heart was racing and he wasn't sure why. Why was she angering him and at the same time so inthralling? She walked warily over to him and so close. God was she close and his black pools just stared deeply into hers. He wanted to reach out and touch her skin. The two most beautiful traits of a woman, were 1. her skin and 2. her neck. Liao wanted to take a step forward, wanted to brush his lips against hers not because she was beautiful but because he wanted to see what it would be like, but at the same time he didn't know her and at the same time part of him wanted to destroy her. Who was this girl? What right did she have to make him so perplexed? He watched as she took a step back and did the same, looking away and then back at her.
She was scared, or shaken. He could hear it a bit in her voice. Liao smiled on the inside. It was good to be feared. Fear was respect. If someone feared you, it meant they knew not to mess with you, they knew you were capable of more than they and they were not to do anything against your will. Respect was fear, and vise verse. Praline Kline? Such an odd name, but then most people thought Liao Zhang was mighty strange. Not in Taiwan it wasn't. But once again this wasn't Taiwan.
"Liao Zhang."
He muttered watching her shiver. Wait. What was this? Did he actually feel bad? Feel pity? It was disgusting this feeling. Good god, he had an emotion. Sneering a little, he growled deep in his voice and flicked his wrist unnoticeably. immediatly the wind settled down and the rain ceased to fall on her head, though continued raging around them. He wanted to scare her, not kill her with a cold. Though the thought of it had his heart pumping he knew it would be wrong. Damn this little voice of good.
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Post by Praline Kline on Jun 22, 2006 16:47:14 GMT -4
“Liao Zhang…” She echoed, still looking at him.
He was enthralling, that’s for sure. She couldn’t tare her gaze away, which is why she didn’t notice how the rain stopped. Wait…it hadn’t stopped. She looked around. It was still pouring on the field and behind them. Wasn’t it? Then the reality sunk it. Of course! He could manipulate weather…Her eyes widened. Half in fear, half in fascination. She opened her mouth to say something…but what? Part of her wanted to run. She had heard about people who could manipulate the elements. They were probably the most dangerous people. They could kill you with the blink of an eye…then again so could she.
She smiled mischievously. So he wanted to surprise her with his power? Two could play at that game. She focused, picturing the sun clearly in her mind. It’s warm rays on a cloudless day…focus…focus…and suddenly, there it was. Well, figuratively. He could see the sun, and so could she. To them, it was the same perfectly sunny day that had just been. However, she knew the secret. It was still raining. The sun was just an illusion, one meant to shock and stun Liao. Would he know she had merely cast a mirage upon his eyes, or would he think her power was the same as his? She smiled, waiting his reaction.
She stretched, playing up the illusion that she was soaking up the suns rays. She twirled, and as she did, she pictured snow. And then it was snowing. Well, figuratively. It appeared to be snowing, but really it was still raining. She laughed, pretending to catch some flakes on her tongue. His bewildered expression said it all. Blinking, she got rid of the illusion, and it was back to reality.
Reality wasn’t nearly as fun as her world of illusions. She could cast anything she wanted there. But here, Liao had the power. He seemed to like that. Curiosity struck her again. What had happened to him that he was so…withdrawn? After all, he had barely said three words to her. She tilted her chin up, so she could look at him. He was taller than she was, and she had to admit, she was slightly intimidated. She didn’t like that. Usually, she was the one doing the intimidating. She untied her ponytail again, shaking it out like a wet dog to relieve the tension between them. She giggled, and looked at him again. It was hard to tell what he thought of her. Was he amused? Or did he find her foolish? People often told her she needed to grow up, so it wouldn’t come as a surprise to her if he felt the same. She couldn’t help it that she had the body of a super model, the powers of Team member, and the spirit of a five year old.
“So…what do you think?”
-ick-
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Liao Zhang
Junior Member
Sometimes the silent ones are the ones you should fear the most
Posts: 59
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Post by Liao Zhang on Jun 22, 2006 17:05:54 GMT -4
She said his name. But not really said it like most American's do. They all just slur their words together, messily blubber and just spit things out. She pushed eached letter from her lips with elquence. It almost sounded good. Almost. On the other hand he felt as if she were mocking him. Liao Zhang. It was his name, and it will always be his name unless...unless he becomes part of this silly team everyone speaks of. There was no reason to utter it twice for the impact worked just as well once didn't it? He was nothing like the people here...and nothing anyone on earth had ever experienced before. Power wise at least.
She caught on, finally, he could read it in her eyes. And felt felt her fear, and yet another emotion. Was it...amusement? Some students liked to play around with their powers, show them off, battle with each other. Liao didn't mind doing so either, but preferred to do it in a controlled enviroment. Like Combat. It was a good class, it relinquished his anger when he couldn't make it to the archery feild. Archery. He got a sinking feeling. He almost forgot all about his box until this moment.
Thunder.
And then he watched her and her sun but knew it wasn't real. The Dean had said 'your one of the kind Zhang'. But then the man could have been lying. But no...there was no way this little bubbbly american girl was more powerful than him. She manipulated, copied the weather very nicely though he had to admit. He could almost feel the snow hit him. Liao couldn't decide if he was amused or not. To tell the truth deep down he was smiling. But...being who he was he was insulted.
Mocking him.
He just stood there and waited for her to stop. Then he looked up at the sky, spread his arms open and allowed a whirl of wind consume him, push his feet of the ground so that he rose atleast 5 feet above her head. The rain around him began coming down hard, thunder boomed, lightning crashed, he could feel the surge of power move through him, pump through his veins, pound with the rhythm of his heart. He allowed the wind to carry him higher, the rain coming harder, the thunder louder the lightning brighter and then, as he just reached the top of the tree his snapped his head up so he was facing her. The rain stopped, the thunder stopped. He moved his hands over the air and one last flash of lightning before he landed back on his feet and the sky turned to a dull grey, the sun peering over the clouds.
"So.."
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Post by Molly Hunt on Jun 22, 2006 17:22:36 GMT -4
Praline watched in facsination as he began to...well...fly. She had to hand it to him. This guy knew understood his power almost as much as Praline understood hers. Almost. She stood, smiling as he put on his show. So he wanted to one up her? Competative energy buzzed inside her. He was practically screaming at her to meet his challenge, except without words. After all, she had deducted that he was the strong silent type.
And yet, she didn't feel that showing off some more was the right thing to do. He definately had the whole "I am powerful. Fear me" Thing going on, and having dealt with his type before (ex boyfriend, for example), she knew it was best to just give in. But it wasn't easy. She resisted her inner urge to retaliate as he landed. Great special effects…
She raised her eyebrows, and began clapping.
“Impressive. Really. Wow.” Part of her was teasing him, but then she saw his face. Anger. She stopped.
“No, really. That was really cool. How long did it take you to master that? You see, when I first realized I could cast illusions, I was seven, I practiced my butt off until I got it down. Just like soccer you know?” She was rambling again, but he was smirking. So she kept talking.
“I was horrible at first. Besides the pony…oh, well you don’t know about that, well, besides that, most of my illusions looked like blobs. Not pretty. So how long until you got it down? Can you do all weather or just rain? Is it tied to your emotions…” She trailed off. What now? He was still smirking, still starring. Would he respond? She hadn’t been this intrigued since the beginning of soccer.
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Post by Molly Hunt on Jun 22, 2006 17:23:38 GMT -4
ew! short! ew! -kicks short post- writers block...sorry you had to see that...
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Liao Zhang
Junior Member
Sometimes the silent ones are the ones you should fear the most
Posts: 59
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Post by Liao Zhang on Jun 22, 2006 17:38:17 GMT -4
What a fantastic feeling. And then, just as he was about to smile, he used sarcasim. SARCASIM. ON HIM. Liao's face dropped and his black eyes glistened a bit. She was mocking him, of all the nerve in the world, this girl thought she could one up him. It was actualy interesting as no one had ever been stupid enough to react to him that way, if she was going to do so she had to back herself up. But she didn't. She seemed to notice his furiousity and back down. Whimp. Afraid of a challenge? Was that a challenge he didn't even really know what pocessed him to do that other than to show her who the authority was around there.
"Practice?"
He furrowed his brow thinking. He had only known about his power for...what? Half a year if that much. He was sixteen when he killed that kid. A few months later he turned seventeen. He had only a few classes in which he used his powers, and then he had some private lessons at the very beginning of the year with the Dean but other than that he had done nothing to excellerate his powers. This had him thinking. If he did practice, how powerful could be become? How much more damage could he cause? The thought had him smirking...can you believe it he was actually showing emotion? It probably appeared he was grinning at her, at her blabbering about her silly illusions. Liao wasn't an ego case or anything, he was very humble about all things but his powers. He was to proud of them.
"I've only known about my powers for a few months. I haven't really adapted them yet," he paused, "Other weather?"
He raised an eyebrow and then looked up at the sky. it once again grew a silvery gray and snow began floating down, then hail, ice, then big flakes of snow that quickly accumulated on the ground. He lifted a hand to catch one in his palm and then released it, it fell to the ground in its original form, unmelted and still beautiful in shape and size. As it hit the ground he flicked his rist, the clouds cleared the sun shown bright, a slight breeze. Flick. The sky became pitch black, clouds rushed to cover the sun, a freezing breeze covered the grounds. He called it perpetual night, the black sun one of his favorites though he couldn't hold it for long. It was the reason he had a black sun tattooed on his left pec. Flick of the rist. The sky became grey, the grounds became covered in a soft fog.
"You manipulate the mind then? Create pictures and thingsto fool the eyes?" he asked, it felt so weird to speak, "I suppose its true then. Seeing isn't believing."
((booooooo awful)))
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