traipsing forth, noir

[Sergio Damián Gallardo]

No culprit was to be found, outside of the regular, even quite detestable behaviour Sergio was demonstrating along the years. Jp, whom was his legal tutor and mentor, would scold him for displaying such inexplicable demeanour over classes, classmates, and pretty much everything standing in his way. The Spanish was through a so tarnished and tainted slate, it was impossible to compare him to an innocent, or the like. A couple of months from his arrival, and the bloke already presented the worst conduct the entire school could attest to. Gallardo shrugged his shoulders as he strolled outside of the classroom, neglecting whatever commandment teacher was uttering at his sudden departure. Clad in his worn out jaded jeans and a pair of military, yet not quite but fashioned, boots, he was traversing to an endless path which route was unbeknownst to him as for the rest of the journey. It wasn’t the last nor the first time he sneaked outside of lessons, in the most conspicuous and notorious way he could – as no other seemed as attention-calling as his exits. Why would he even bother at scoffing teachers and doodling whilst his mind was somewhere else but at place? Preposterous it was wherever you glommed at it from.

The pounding didn’t cede, with each stride exerted he could somehow feel fuelled with stamina to carry on his wandering. Hallways thronged with flustered students rushing off to their respective classes, all redden faces from the strife of exceeding their speed-limits. Sergio flouted them afar, walking in the complete opposite direction where they were heading to, as in the way he would put it – shifting against the current. He sighed with nothing but scornful deems in his head, arching a brow at those strange looks aimed towards him, omitting them utterly as he advanced. The sod used to don himself with a grimace, almost a sullen expression that reflected nothing but the lack of necessity to commence the chatter or babble purposelessly for hours, with a deadpan stare that dictated demise upon those who affronted it. Antisocial could be the best word to describe him, barring the pack they have somehow assembled, and which he comprised. “Mind your own business” he snarled at a first year that walked past him, almost glaring at him as he did so – just for the fun of doing it.

It wasn’t long before he reached the courtyard, in its most desolate niche, finding it cosy to slouch down as he tossed his belongings aside and just breathed in deep, plunging himself in the depths of apathy, as he used to. Having it around, the bloke would have just ridden his cycle through an infinite highway, without helmet and without protections, just heedless of whatever catastrophe could befall upon him. Nevertheless, he was there, just chilling in the modesty of a nook devoid of human presence, except his. Sergio unruffled his own dark curls of hair before slanting his head backwards, feeling the rigid stone-wall behind him with his back plastered to it. The crouched figure could be seen from the distance as a dark lump, with both legs extended before him, surmounted on his satchel on the floor. Fumbling about with his right hand, he grasped his hoodie and donned himself with it, tugging the hood forth so it would shade his features and prevented the sunlight hitting them. He neatly closed his lids and held an intake of oxygen before sighing profoundly and releasing all tension from himself.

Dozing off progressively, he was immersed in a trance, but he was shaken from the rapture when something hit his legs – something that seemed to be a pair of alien legs, pertaining to someone else. The man tugged the hood off rapidly and quite livid as he searched for the responsible, furtively with his eyes, halting at the silhouette of a girl with blonde locks, glancing at him. The bloke just fixed his glare at her before he muttered anything, expecting an answer, or an apology. “… ¿Qué es que uno no puede dormir en paz, aquí?” the words erupted outside of hi slips, by the moment her lips finally parted, apparently to say something.

[noir beaumont]

The only sound that could be heard was the soft drone of the professor’s lecture. Perhaps, the snore of one of the students could be heard if one listened closely. A frown was firmly placed on the lips of a certain blonde who went by the name of Noir Beaumont. It was clearly impossible for her to pay attention at the moment. It was the same with every other student in the room too. The professor was clearly wasting his breath but he didn't seem to notice or care. As he went on, Noir mindlessly scribbled on the edge of her parchment. It produced an image of a studious person when she was anything but studious. A snort of sounded from the back of the class, causing the professor to momentarily halt his speech. Noir's blue eyes darted up to him, waiting for the punishment that would surely be given to the offender. It never came. The professor merely went on until the end of class came.

There was the sound of students shuffling about to gather their things and head onto their next class. Noir did gather her up her bag but she did not follow the stream of students heading to their classes. She was doing something that would most likely cause her prefect title to be taken away from her but the lesson had tired her out. It wasn't likely that she would be able to sit through another lesson. She chose, instead, to go to her dorm. Once she was there, no one would be able to find her. The only thing that needed to be done was thinking of an excuse. The chances of a teacher questioning her about her whereabouts were high. Noir descended into the dungeons and went on towards the Sournois quarters. She entered her dorm room. Just as she expected, it was empty. It looked like none of roommates chose to skip class which was a little unusual. Most of them preferred to not attend lessons.

That didn't matter though. She rather liked the quiet room without her roommates. They were all too rowdy for her liking. No, they weren’t fond of each other. It was more like they tolerated each other for the sake of living in the same room for the school year. That was enough to keep some form of peace. Admittedly, it was hard. Noir was a girl who preferred a tamer lifestyle rather than a night spent at a club. She had to endure her roommate's late entrances while she herself was trying to catch some sleep. Speaking of sleep, that was just what she needed. Yet, it was something that rarely came to her. It still escaped her as she lay upon her bed. Noir sighed at the thought of the sweet darkness. There was nothing to be done. Noir closed her eyes as she tried to think of something that could pass the time. A thought came to mind. The courtyard was bound to be a good place to relax. No one would think of looking for her.

Standing up, she set to work on making herself look at least a little presentable. She didn’t want to go outside looking like a mess. Old habits die hard. After all these years, her mother's words still followed her. It was unfortunate. Noir had believed that she had shed all thought of the old woman years ago. She gathered her tarot cards, some parchment, and a Divination textbook. If she had nothing to do, she may as well go on with learning the subject. Quickly and quietly, she left the room for the fresh air of the courtyard. She was completely focused on keeping her items balanced in her arms. If she had paid attention, she would have avoided the gentleman dozing off. Alas, she did not. Instead, she nearly tripped over his legs and woke him up in the process. Her lips parted to let out a remark but it was promptly halted because of the stranger's words. It was in a language that she could not understand. "Excuse me?"

[Sergio Damián Gallardo]

Stemmed in the depths of his bloated chest, tranquillity had pervaded through every bit of his whole frame, appeasing the disquiet throe that threatened to form within him. For the oddest of motives, Sergio had a quite short fuse – he was a touchy character that was bound to combust without warning, thusly, gaining some irenic sense or notion was almost an unthinkable toil he could not exactly fathom nor crave for. Simple shutting of lids sufficed to instil the calmness into him, soulless as he was, his body still sensed the physical effects of a mollified state, with the lax muscles ceasing the tension to every absence of sounds and the sultry yet warm and even mild sunlit atmosphere that was submitting him and subsiding him, little by little. The hoodie prevented his eyes from frowning with the light, and the normalcy of his features facilitated the drowsy notion that was possessing him – in a nutshell, he was entering a whole new territory which had remained unknown to him, unexplored by every awareness of his – he sighed, relieved, as the only instance in which he could rub off the scowl upon his factions, when unseen.

A little too late, in the profoundness of his slumber, with the snoozing irrupted by the loutish intromission of someone he couldn’t detect amongst acquaintances or even classmates – not that he could discern between neither, since he was as much of a nuisance to everyone that they seemed to shun him when possible, and so did him. Sergio’s expression didn’t alter a smidge when the voice of the girl broke the peaceful pause, after his sudden outburst of scornful declamation against the clueless victim. “… Clots… perhaps you mind your feet next time to help bumping people…” he beamed at her, his pupils lit in a dangerous hazel that was rare to the composition of his irises habitual colour. As having Spanish provenance, he was prone to let his instinct and rash decisions were dominant over reasoning and frivolity of thinking. To say he was brusque was to state the blatant matter – regardless of how beautiful the gal could show off to be.

Staring momentarily at the blonde, he could deduce that she was quite distracted in her own mind to heed the rest she was engulfed with. Sergio looked up before he propped his open palm on the floor to help him balance his way upwards as he straightened up, now eying from above instead. He was not much of a skyscraper though he was not close to a medium stature either as he exceeded it, barely. “… Maybe if you hadn’t that nose of yours stuck into the books, you could see where you’re heading to…” once a conflict started, it was an odyssey to detain him from his irrational and hateful behaviour.

Nevertheless, if Jp was rumoured about him dismissing classes, that wouldn’t exactly work on his favour. He cleared his throat slowly and he let an intake of oxygen flooded his lungs and let some air to his insufflate brain. “… Forgive me… I lose control of myself quite as often as I’m not allowed to speak of it…” the wolfsbane should affect him somehow, and he could let a phoney simper to dissimulate appearances, “… My legs were deliberately extended… though, it never occurred to me someone would be roaming around this part of the castle… as it’s always as desert as Divination Lessons…” niceties should spare him detention, from the moment he acknowledged the prefect badge she was adorned with - needless to report any abnormality to anyone, right?