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Lucian Stone
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Karma: 1 |  | d i s e a s e {nyla + open}
« Thread Started on Apr 23, 2007, 7:26pm » | ![[Quote]](http://s4.images.proboards.com/buttons/quote.gif) |
Leave nothing to the imagination, take everything at face value, and if one still finds that they are being fooled; turn and run. Like a magic trick, the answer is so excruciatingly simple that the magician is doing a favor by not telling how it’s done. The answer impresses no one, but the trick is everything. The secret to Lucian Stone, the tick to his tock, the motive to his crimes, is so utterly disappointing that it borderlines on being unreasonable. Daddy issues. That’s all, and so terribly simple that it’s almost a let down. No one in his family suffered any tragic death, no scarcity of money, or any terrible disasters. It’s just something so simple, but so profound in the mind of one person that it hardly makes sense.
As honesty would have it, there was nothing wrong with Lucian that he couldn’t fix on his own. He had the means, he had the money, and he certainly had the will, but one essential ingredient was lacking - two, actually: heart and energy. By this point in his life Lucian was so dispassionate about how he went about life that it was only easiest to follow the path he had made for himself. Changing after so many years required a lot of energy, and a lot of courage, neither of which Lucian was able to muster at this point in time. So life goes on, in the steady manner it is accustomed to, often ensnaring its victims into an almost daily cycle of routine. Lucian was trapped in his own repeating history for the last four years. Today was nothing different; nothing special.
Luce was dressed for success as usual. He had a slack pair of jeans that hung like trousers off of his lean hips. A black button-up shirt adorned his torso, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His pinstripe gray jacket was thrown smartly over one shoulder with the aid of his right arm while the left was occupied with a book-bag that was slung across the shoulder. His hair was combed forward for a change and hung across one eye like a forelock. As aforementioned, nothing special about this dress, or the sort of pose he was striking in front of his open locker. But something mildly special was going on that day, told by the way Lucian was waiting ever so patiently and the way his emerald green eyes simmered and shifted over the student body passing through after the final bell.
But Luce was not so stupid as to make his predation totally obvious. He used the mid-sized mirror that clung to the door of his locker as a means to watch without spooking his prey. Locker number 451 was positioned perfectly in the reflection, all while people passed unknowing or figuring Lucian was just spending an extra long time that day checking himself out. A good minute or two passed by in this fashion, but Luce was never dissuaded. His eerie smirk was plastered to his face the entire course of the time, so assured of himself that it was sickening.
And alas, the moment of truth was at hand. Jesse Parker was spotted. He watched the sandy-haired, stocky jock with as much anticipation in his little mirror as a submarine captain would during WWII attached to his radar. Closer, ever closer, the kid stupid and unknowing – so naively unsuspicious! Who was he to assume that Lucian’s retaliations came after a day? Psh. Lucian’s revenge was swift and simple. Jesse had only disgruntled him a few hours ago at lunch. The dumb-faced jock tripped Luce in the lunch line, sending Thursday Surprise all over Betsy Anderson, making him the laughingstock of that hour and ruining a very dicey relation. The ingrate just stood there and laughed his head off. How stupid he was!
Lucian could feel the small, prickly, tingling sensation that arose in the tips of his fingers when he was driven to mad anticipation. Jesse was at his lock, turning the knob breezily. Not a device to keep Lucian out! Not while there was a janitor in need of a $50 and access to the lock keys. The jock pulled down firmly, Lucian froze. The door swung open and… It was hard to determine which was louder: Jesse’s girlish shriek of surprise or Luce’s coarse, hysterical laughter that left him in tears.
A simple device, a small box and a string, but the ammo was powerful. As soon as Jesse threw open the door, as Lucian had assumed he would, five school-grown cockroaches were released from their prison and sent flying out into the hall. A cacophony ensued from the students who flowed as far away from the scene as possible in their river-like formation. One unhappy bug landed on Jesse’s shirt collar, the fat-faced jock tearing off his entire shirt in alarm. It seemed everyone was laughing or shrieking. Lucian could not stand to look in his mirror any longer. The minute he turned around to watch the action their eyes met.
“You bastard!” the latter replied, slammed his locker shut, and stormed down the hall, shaking out his shirt. At least he had thought better than to confront Lucian fist-to-fist; and Luce was glad too, for all his tricks he was not a battling man. He had won this round, and felt positively devilish.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, brother,” Lucian called after Jesse’s back, returned some admiring glances from various relations that passed by, and set to his own business of putting up a book or two. He was positively glowing.
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. nyla reynolds
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« Reply #1 on Apr 23, 2007, 8:00pm » | |
Normality. Such a simple, un-inspiring word, and yet in this town it rang with all the rarity of a canary diamond. So few around here could be titled with such, almost everyone surrounded by self brought drama, ranging from ones that made even the most dramatic of the bunch cringe to the meekest and mildest of sorts. Even so; normality was the farthest of the norm in Legacy High. Yet with her? There was no better word. Normal. It was nearly a compliment for the slender blonde, who was one of the few attending students that was not weighed with divorced parentals or abusive family members.
At times, when one thinks 'normal' they think 'Nyla Reynlds', so closely had the words been linked within Waylon. She was the babysitter, the cheer leader, the carefree Reynolds Sister who was not caught up in passing rumors or gossip. Call it cowardice - a fear of chaos - but she simply could not bring herself to get involved or even give a damn. One of the youngest set out of six children, mind had grown accustomed to the overbearing presence of other kids, generally ignoring passing students except for minor, forced conversations.
True, Nyla was usually sociable, but this morning had crawled out of bed with brutal hostility, mostly snarling at family members and those who attempted to bug her - given to mood swings, added stress from school work not helping the dire situation. Day had passed with the extremities of boredom, interspersed with momentary interest at whatever violent scenarios unfolded - a fight sometime throughout math class, some new kid spilling a lunchtime special over Busty Betsy. Excuse me, I mean Betsy Anderson. Laughter had been almost unbearable at the moment, interlaced with brief satisfaction, never having exactly cared for Betsy; not even attempting to curb her rude giggling. But now, it was just a distant memory, day having dragged by, classes slept through much to the general annoyance of every bitchy teacher.
Freedom was felt as classes were released, stepping down the hall with silent intention; flashing occasional, breezy smiles at those who bothered to return the gesture, otherwise dodging approaches or forcing others away with a disapproving frown. Fingers were laced through belt loops that adorned the form fitting jeans, lower hems tucked into the brown leather material of spiked heeled boot; noise emitted from footwear resembling gunfire when the halls were emptied, a rare occurrence. Flowing, turquoise top clung silkily to slender bodice, spaghetti straps covered by the curtain of satin, honey curls that were allowed to loosely swing along her shoulders. Feathering bangs were draped in familiar position across the pale blue eyes, which glistened curiously at the commotion that strained the lower halls. Brow arched out of simple habit, loud feminine shrieks gathered with coarse laughter and answering cries practically echoed against the semi glossed walls, sidestepping another female who came charging down the hall away from the outbreak.
Cringing against the uproar of noise, colorful words passed from pale pink lips as yet another pushed passed her; rather powerfully, narrowing avoiding her arm which swung out with an angered attempt to slap. Mood which had not been on the brightest terms this morning slowly increased to a lower level of annoyance, clamor dispersing almost as quickly as it had gathered, leaving a rather darkly satisfied boy standing within its wake.
Of course, said crazy person just had to possess a neighboring locker, brushing passed him wordlessly and wincing with inward disgust as a cockroach scrambled for cover. Backwards glance was thrown over one tan hinted shoulder, catching sight of Jesse as he stomped off down the hall with a departing insult, the boy beside her replying almost instaneously. Glancing over at him through fringe of golden coloring, a reply could not help but form on the tip of her tongue. "Aren't you just a ball of sunshine and rainbows," as words slipped from vocal cords into the tense atmosphere, books were slammed and rearranged within the alloy confines of her locker, finally looking over at him after a pause. Gaze snapped towards one last remaining bug, which was circling dazedly throughout the center of the hall; clearing stunned from the harsh lights and sudden screaming activities. "This was your idea, wasn't it?" for a second, eyes narrowed in recognition. "You're the boy who spilled food all over whats-her-face."
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__ nyla reynolds
seventeen. senior. single.
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Lucian Stone
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Karma: 1 | | Re: d i s e a s e {nyla + open}
« Reply #2 on Apr 23, 2007, 8:58pm » | |
Live life lively. What the hell - there was no other option. High school was such a daily beating to begin with. A series of chokeholds and gasping breaths, the constant berating and beatings, it was either bear it or beat it. Lucian could never seem to bear it, nor could he ever care to beat it. It was a constant, tedious annoyance that riddled his daily life – much like the few cockroaches scrambling around the hall. People spent so much time stomping them to death, but no school official would ever care to call an exterminator. So the students go through their lives with the expense of cockroaches – even a blessing in disguise for one such fool (when life gives you lemons… but that’s another lesson altogether). And as so, Lucian went about his high-school life as such. Evasively.
But who gave a damn anyways? People have their own problems, their own issues, and go about them in their own way. Anyone who ever stopped to consider Lucian intensely was a fool in desperate need of their own drama. He should be considered as a cockroach in the aforementioned analogy – there to make one’s life rather pesky, but not entirely overbearing. Unless, of course, one were Jesse Spencer at the moment. Then Lucian Stone was one large, damnable problem. However, these events would all be forgotten the next morning by most of the student body. So why do it? Why not. It was like going to a concert. Great fun for the moment, but not any special memory.
It was only… Nala? Natasha? Oh, something N. Reynolds. He’d known of her, of course, Lucian knew positively anybody who was anybody. Miss Reynolds was the “good” cheerleader, as he had fancied her - a typically hot blonde, but not the most infamous of the lot. In fact, he really hadn’t heard a word about her edgewise. Huge, yet slightly distinguished family, and rich? Lucian wasn’t for sure, but she certainly looked well off. And not too hard on the eyes at all.
Lucian grinned smartly as she spoke candidly. Full of rainbows and sunshine? Oh, one would better believe it – if the dark side had rainbows and sunshine, of course. A question of perspective rather, but nonetheless Lucian felt light as air. He finally had what he needed and casually looked her way as she assumed correctly. Damn. Who else would it be? Lucian didn’t grant her his usual “no-fucking-duh” sneer, but was quite charmed rather. Although the fact that she blamed him for tipping the tray on Betsy was mildly irritating, he would be more than happy to explain it to her.
“Guilty as charged, m’dear,” Lucian replied in his disgustingly saccharine tone, “However, the brute got what he deserved. I would never intentionally make myself the clumsy laughing stock of the lunchroom,” Lucian was always too concerned about himself to realize that more people where laughing over Betsy’s misfortune than his own, “But there is nothing better than sweet revenge, wouldn’t you say?”
The question was slightly rhetoric. He didn’t expect Miss “Pretty in Pink” Reynolds to admit to enjoying a bit of nefarious behavior; but Lucian could only assume that there was a bit of a longing in everyone to be “bad”. Why not? It was just as much fun as being “good” – maybe even more. But of course, Lucian was only making snap judgments on her part. Who was he to know what she did in her private life? Although, he would very much like to see. And let it be known, that the context of that sentence has free range to contort into all the diabolical senses imaginable.
And so the irony went on. The Lucian exposed here was nothing at all like the Lucian at the governor’s ball, or at various galas and events. He was pristine, polite to a fault, and always, always, the epitome of decorousness. Perhaps it was the same with Miss Reynolds. Teenagers were ever so good at putting on their own fronts. Being someone else was always better than being oneself.
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. nyla reynolds
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Karma: 0 | | Re: d i s e a s e {nyla + open}
« Reply #3 on Apr 24, 2007, 7:07pm » | |
School was regarded in the same way one watched a play; involved and yet in the same way set apart, not allowing herself to be immersed in petty dramas and quickly ending and beginning friendships. Not linked to those who were 'bff' one day only to put a knife in their supposed friend's back the following night. Lesson had been learned in the matters of school politics, knowing now it was better to look from afar than to actually join in, to be looked at but never touched. Like an extravagant painting in a gallery; able to be gazed upon, but protected by a wall of glass.
Lucian was watched with the same refined indifference and nonchalance, his appearance taken in with practiced discretion, not openly gawking nor hiding the fact that vision was slipping inch by inch down his muscular form. He was easily recognizable, attire riddled with designer labels and the polished look that suggested each piece of cloth was well made. The wave of wealth that seemed to radiate from his person could not be missed by the most ignorant and dull of people; she, herself, having grown accustomed to recognizing those who had a great amount to their name.
Though some might be blind to such information, Nyla did not run with the status of being rich - true, she was privileged to glimpse such elegant and unattainable lifestyles through dates and party invitations, having dated several affluent males in the past. Style suggested a well off family, but it was all falsified, jobs worked hard at to be able to afford manicures and expensive outfits. Over the years, she'd wired herself with extravagant alarms that sounded at the slightest hint of bias or resentment over her middle class status, those who attempted put downs publicly humiliated for their efforts. And of course, that familiar defense could not help but rise like a choking bile in the presence of Lucian.
It was easily masked with a breezy smile that brightened porcelain features, watching him casually from beneath the forelock of saffron curls, finding the quickly formed banter that slipped from his lightly hued lips rather enjoyable. Yet casual expression did not express such pleasure, not wanting him to somehow feel he was 'in' with her. After all, he remained a rather suspicious character - not dumb enough to trust so easily simply because of those attractive brown eyes. "Well, I would watch it if I were you," came the dry retort, metal door pushed open so eyes could blink into a pink lined mirror; french tipped nails pushing beneath the shining mane of blonde hair to fluff it into place.
"Jesse might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he takes pleasure in physical violence. I wouldn't be surprised if he came after you when school lets out." Casting a long ward glance out of Caribbean blue eyes, locker door was at last slammed into place, Lucian granted with undivided attention now that she was satisfied with her look. Brow raised at this following sentence, feeling a familiar pang that was almost desperate with want. Revenge, a poison; a drug, practically, in its twisted ways, making cocaine and heroin pale by comparison. She had formerly been ensnared in its addictive spirit, indulging in some of the cruelest taunts and insults, cutting down those simply because she didn't approve of the way they'd looked at her. But things had changed, bitchy, over the top nature masked by the sweet hearted innocent cheerleader she was known so well as. And now expected to be.
Of course, it was not completely real; she was far from innocent - unless virginity is the golden ticket to complete divinity and utter purity, which we all know is untrue - and perhaps this was the reason Lucian intrigued her in such a deep and completely personal level. She'd been like that, had seem that evil gleam in the mirror over the last six years. It was such a shame such things had to be kept secret. Perhaps normality was not such a suitable word afterall. "That, I know all too well," tone suggested grief for the matter, feeling the unexpected flood of loss. How one could miss something like revenge and blatant hate is completely unknown; but that is the only way to describe such emotions. Suddenly, weight leaned against one lithe hip, the small gap between them almost completely filled, entire posture suggesting she was sharing some type of intimate revelation - though of course, it was tainted by the underlying tone of sarcasm. "But let me tell you something; no one likes a bitch. So, you won't find me stuffing some dumbass's locker with cockroaches." Stepping back and combing a set of slender, ring clad fingers throughout her hair, he was eyed curiously from beneath a maze of ebony lashes. "What's your name again? Lucifer? It suits you." Perfectly aware of Satan's former blessing before his rebellion, Lucian was thrown a look that could most easily be mistaken for modest flirtation. Mistaken, of course, being the key word.
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__ nyla reynolds
seventeen. senior. single.
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Lucian Stone
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Karma: 1 | | Re: d i s e a s e {nyla + open}
« Reply #4 on Apr 25, 2007, 8:34pm » | |
Lucian’s large, glassy eyes rolled quickly in their sockets at the girl’s mention of Jesse and her advice. The action was Luce’s reply while the breezy shrug accompanied with an unruffled stance told of his carelessness for the matter. Of course it concerned him, but it was more tedious than anything else. Now Lucian would just have to take the back exit and walk around the grounds to avoid the boy. But that would take far too much effort on his part. Lucian would rather just brave it. Besides, if the guy landed a hand on him Luce could easily sue for assault and ship Jesse off to the juvenile detention center. That actually sounded a lot more rewarding, and reassured Lucian into an even deeper sense of nonchalance.
Her dryness pleased and intrigued him. Luce was used to getting lots of attention, either positive or negative, but attention nonetheless. And whenever someone expressed indifference to his presence severely attracted his interest. Best way to shake off Luce was to stalk him; the worst way was to ignore him. At the moment Miss Reynold’s cool attitude was aiding to his liking of her, and amazingly, something along the lines of respect. Just by the way she handled herself Lucian could see that this girl wasn’t one to take any crap. So he toned himself down a notch – as arrogant as that may sound, which is perfectly fine to assume, as there was only one person Lucian cared about – himself.
Luce looked back evenly, and almost with a devious glower, into her fantastic blue eyes with his own in an unwavering manner that seemed to say “you can take a look, but you won’t find anything.” When she spoke about how she “knew too well” about revenge, Luce was pleasantly surprised. He had an inkling about her that was now confirmed. His amused facial expression begged to hear more, and he shut his own locker to gain a more exclusive colloquy.
The distance between them shrank as she filled it up with attitude. She was positively the opposite of what he had considered her to be. She went straight from pretty ‘n pink to a fetching, even saucy, little thing. Luce was impressed. He chuckled slightly as she let him in on a little secret, if it should be considered that. Or even, more of an insult. Did she just call him a bitch? What a splendid little thing she was. And dangerous. With a wit like that she would be prone to captivating just about anybody.
As she took a step back Luce almost took a step forward; he was quite inclined to her. Ah yes, the all too common “Lucifer” reference. It suited him, sure, but a perfectly excellent insult as well. However the way she glanced at him certainly made hell a little hotter. Was she flirting with him? Lucian wanted her to be, but considered the fact that her taunting behavior up till now was most certainly a sign of a bona-fide HTG – or, “hard to get” . Damn, those were always the most tedious – but most rewarding – sort of girls. But Lucian held his ground – two could play at that.
“Hah, certainly. But you can call me “Lucian” for short. Or “Luce” even,” he replied, matching her tone, “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sweet-heart, but unless you are any good at economics, I must be going. However, I may need you to escort me - I could really use someone with heels like yours to beat Jesse’s eyes out.” Lucian smirked, adding in another eye roll and a toss of his mahogany hair.
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. nyla reynolds
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« Reply #5 on Apr 26, 2007, 8:20pm » | |
Lips curved into the vaguest but most wonderful hint of a smile, already highly aware of the electricity that crackled unsaid between them - from the simple way the gesture of leaning forward had seemed to snag a reaction, to the way his eyes lingered willingly upon her face. Under any other circumstances, perhaps if she'd woken up in a normal, falsely chipper mood, Lucian would not have caught so much a glance.
True, there would be no denying the male's physical attractiveness, but the pure arrogance that leaked from him was almost overwhelming. Any other day she would've avoided sheerly walking towards him, but today was different - today, he interested her, had managed to catch and harness her usually short attention span. If he'd known how he'd so deeply captivated her, surely his head would implode with self adoration - hence the constant charade of indifference and general nonchalance. Such a fantastic actress, it was a wonder no awards had been won nor films partook in.
Such two delightfully inflated egos and self involved people, any person who slipped wordlessly passed them could feel the vibrations of energy waves radiating from the duo; azure eyes daringly locking into his own without the slightest bit of hesitance. There was no fake blushing nor inclination of her skull, no accidently-on-purpose touches, but a simple forwardness that usually intimidated most guys; purposefully did so. Lucian was an exception to this case, not wishing to rid herself of his company, but instead openly defying and challenging him - done wordlessly, though surely he could get the point from the almost hostile facade. What would be the point of pretending to be some innocent, simpering cheerleader? He was most certainly not the ordinary jock - would most likely be more repulsed than intrigued by such an act. So there was no reason not to be herself; an extreme rarity.
His extraordinarily green eyes remained void and blank of any sign of emotion, however, Nyla was highly aware that his concentration and thoughts were focused soley on her, abusing the privilege almost gleefully. Gaze remained passive and uninterested, barely registering his words with the smallest tilt of her head, honey fringe immediately falling in a silken curtain to caress smooth cheekbones. "Alright, Luce," feminine vocal cords rolled into action, somehow inflicting as much scorn as playfulness into their words and manners. Gaze distractedly wandered towards a passing male student, quick, dainty wave offered before visions snapped back towards the chiseled, masculine features, girlish face sculpted with annoyance. "'Sweetheart' is the name you'd find on a cheap, Las Vegas prostitute or some obvious nickname you'd call your mistress when you don't want your wife to know you're on the phone with her. I think we both know I'm classier than that. My name is Nyla. So you'll call me Nyla, okay, sunshine?"
Accompanied with flowing words was another smile, tossing back shining, glossy hair with a skilled, casual flicker of delicate wrists. Quick glance surveyed the expensive, Prada boots that created a graceful silhouette for slender legs and tiny feet, having cost at least a month's salary to afford them. The thought of impaling Jesse's skull with one of the sharp heels was rather unappealing, not desiring blood stains on the classic, seamless leather. Skull shook in defiant disagreement, an idea prickling senses within seconds.
Swift vision cascaded down the walls of the hallway, seeing that they were free of any teachers or adults, a mischievous look barely shadowing with the faintest of expressions. "You know, economics is pretty dull," as she spoke, eyes lifted to meet his own almost innocently; mocking. "And it was gorgeous outside last time I checked. It'd be ridiculous to waste it in a room with grody, unintelligent apes like Jesse Parker," once again leaning on a svelte leg, voice hushed itself to a stage whisper - still full of sarcasm, which was very easily distinguished."Do you think you're bad enough to skip, Lucian?"
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__ nyla reynolds
seventeen. senior. single.
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Lucian Stone
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Karma: 1 | | Re: d i s e a s e {nyla + open}
« Reply #6 on Apr 28, 2007, 4:01pm » | |
Classier than that, eh? Lucian grinned. That was no fun. Of course it wasn't like he was hiding her, or anything like she suggested - even though everyone knew cheating was the most exciting part of dating. Nicknaming was a strictly second-nature offense on his part. Being on a nickname-only basis was extremely impersonal, and exactly what Luce wanted. Names were seemingly too considerate, for lack of a better word - or a better mindset. And all in all, there was no doubt that Nyla's request would go in one ear and out the other.
Of course Lucian wasn't as eager to go as he sounded. He lingered in front of her, watching through his glassy green eyes. If she was interested, she would ask him to stay. If she wasn't, she would let him go. Of course, there wasalways room for error here, but Luce could reason out the grey areas as much as he could when the time came. It all depended on how much effort he would have to exert, and how much he would get back. Miss Reynolds seemed like the perfect person to have in his repertoire: she seemed popular enough, cute, influential in school manners, a total catch, etc. etc.
And at least she had good taste, by the look of her excellent choice in shoe. Yeah, they could find some other shoe to bash Jesse's face in, Luce supposed. Of course he had enough money in his wallet at that moment to buy her another pair if need be. Luce was proud enough of his Diesel boots, and had a whole rack full at home. Boys could love shoes just as much as girls could, Lucian proved, and still not be gay. What sort of stereotype was that? Only gay man can wear designer? A bunch of bull that was, and if anyone had anything to say about it, they'd better not in front of Mr. Stone.
A familiar tingling sensation ran up Lucian's spine; a feeling of excitement as she found an excuse to prevent his departure. Lucian was quite bemused by the glowing look on his thin face. The way her azure blue eyes flitted away and back to his own, her posture, the way she spoke - it screamed of a tease. Her final question was like a challenge in Lucian's mind. A challenge that he would eagerly accept and pursue. A nefarious smirk graced his gaunt features; a look that held a sinister thought.
"I hope you know what you're getting into, Nyla," Lucian voiced her name with a mildly sardonic twist, while giving her one last chance to beat it, Where did you have in mind?" he inquired, falling back into his original state of nonchalance, enjoying himself, and giving a little bit of leniance on his part to let his eyes fall across the length of her bodice. What a contradictory little thing she was! It was almost like looking into a trans-gendered mirror.
Of course the first thing that popped into Lucian's mind was to go find a bathroom and fuck it for an hour - which is why no girl should ever allude about sex to Luce unless they mean it. But he had no idea what she would want with him other than that. His money, perhaps, but Lucian's "good company" was hard to come by. He was tiring to hang around with, but if one was up for it, could come out refreshingly wild. Nyla looked to have just enough wit and good sense about her.
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