(no subject)
Title: Left World
Chapter: Two- A
By: E (DamageCtrl, Pasifik, etc.)
Fandom: Original Fiction
Warnings: Hemorrhages may occur upon reading this. Read at your own risk.
Rating: T
Summary: Demi-Demon Azalea is a few credits shy of graduating high school on time, but lucky for her, Ola Hel has gotten her into an internship at Centrale Station; the ‘police’ hub for Left World citizens.
Azalea slowly walked down the halls of the school during the lunch hour. Her eyes were focused on the canary yellow sheet of paper that she had been handed moments earlier by a concerned counselor. It was stapled with a print out of her transcripts, which bared the balance on her graduation credits.
“We can get you into summer school, but you will still only be allowed to take two this summer,” her counselor had told her. “You have very few options other to take on more classes in the next year.”
“If I take them and pass, will I have enough credits to graduate?” Azalea asked worriedly. The rotund woman across from her nodded and adjusted her glasses.
“There shouldn’t be a problem. Let me print you out a schedule of the summer classes being offered this year. You’ve passed all your required classes so you won’t have to re-take anything,” the woman said as she fiddled with her computer. “I would go against signing up for easy electives during the summer because they will give you less credits. Advanced electives, like a foreign language or one of the advanced art classes are your best choice.”
The student had merely sat there, nodding her head as she was shown the yellow print out. Her counselor ran through the available courses with her, giving her a brief summary of each before telling her if it would help or not. Afterwards, she was given a sample schedule of her proposed senior year.
She had tried her best not to let out a pained groan. Every single period was filled. Everyone she knew would most likely have one, if not more, free periods. In fact, she knew Patricia had so many credits that she was only planning to take the minimum amount of classes their senior year. She never envied the other girl more.
After she thanked the counselor, Azalea gathered the information sheets and headed out the door. Not only did she have to worry about the coming summer and year, but she had to worry about her current year. If she failed another class, that would spell even more trouble for her and she did not need to sit through another lecture with her parents.
She released a heavy breath and looked up from the sheet. Her biology class had a project due and she could use all the help she could get. At least her best friend was an honor student who didn’t mind helping her.
“Thank you, Patricia, for being the most reliable friend ever,” she murmured under her breath as she walked down the hall to the photography lab. She vaguely remembered the Blessed’s schedule for that day. It was the one day during the week she did not have a club meeting during her lunch period and, since she lacked a dark room at home, it was also the day Patricia spent her free time in the photography lab to finish her remaining projects.
Azalea stepped through the open door, surprised not to see anyone in the classroom itself. Her eyes moved over to the door that was lined with black curtains. She stopped by one of the desks and placed her backpack on it before unzipping the top compartment and shoving the papers from her counselor inside. She tugged up the zippers before leaving the bag behind and heading to the dark room.
Smiling briefly as she parted the black curtains, she remembered the first time she had entered to try to find Patricia. The teacher told her that the honors student was in the dark room and for Azalea to simply step inside.
Not sure what to expect, Azalea parted the thick, light obscuring drapes and found herself in small room of pitch darkness. Apparently, she had wandered into the space before the actual darkroom, but her confused yells had brought Patricia to her. The other girl claimed she was the worst demon ever after she actually panicked in the dark.
Azalea stepped forward and separated another set of curtains to reveal a larger room bathed in red light. The smell of chemicals was in the air as various student photographs hung from lines to dry.
“Excuse me,” she called out as she looked around the room. She had only been there twice before. “Is Patricia here?”
“Azalea?” Her head turned toward the owner of the voice, surprised that they knew who she was until she saw the owner’s face. “Hi,” he smiled as he lowered his arms after he finished pinning his photograph on to the line. “Patricia went to run an errand for Mrs. Jenkins. She’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Oh…” Her face was heating up, she could practically feel it. She forgot that Peter took photo, too. “Okay. I’ll go wait outside then.” She turned around, silently hoping that the red light didn’t make her blush apparent as the young man behind her capped a bottle.
“Hey, wait a second,” Peter called out quickly, before Azalea could reach the black curtains. “Can you tell me what you think of my photos?”
The black haired demi-demon looked over her shoulder, surprised. “Me?”
“Yeah,” Peter nodded. “I’ve been asking everyone and can always use the critique.”
Hesitantly, Azalea stepped forward. “I don’t know anything about photography.”
“It doesn’t matter, you don’t need to,” he assured her. Peter encouragingly waved her over and had her stand in front of some pictures hanging on the line.
“Is this the same project as Patricia’s?”
“Yeah, ‘man and nature’,” Peter informed her. “I just finished taking them this weekend.”
Azalea squinted and peered up at the black and white photos. She could make out small flowers, most likely wild flowers or some sort of weed…and then her eyes crinkled up. “Did you take these at the dump?” she asked with disbelief.
Peter let out a laugh and nodded. “I see you noticed the trash pile behind the flowers,” he chuckled. “I thought the whole man and nature thing can be portrayed with our garbage and how even then nature tries to reclaim it for herself, though it may be a losing battle.”
She nodded, carefully taking in the photograph. As she moved on to the next one she looked back at him. “Did they let you go inside the dump to take them or did you sneak inside?”
“I asked and I was lucky enough that they let me go inside,” Peter told her. Azalea looked back at the photograph. She could make out the machines in the background, pushing piles of garbage together to form a mountain that would later be flattened with a steam roller. “I had to go with an actual employee, of course, and I had to wear a helmet.”
“Wow…” Azalea murmured. “That’s a lot for a photo.” She looked back at him curiously. “Did it really smell that bad?”
Peter’s eyes widened as he nodded. “Oh, yeah…you have no idea,” he told her as he leaned back against the counter. He crossed his arms over his chest as he narrowed his eyes. “It was terrible. Even afterwards my clothes reeked.”
Beside him, Azalea laughed. “I bet. How long did you spend at the dump?”
“Less than three hours, but that was more than enough,” Peters told her. “My dad said that if the truck still smelled like the dump in a week, he’d never let me drive again.”
The black-haired girl laughed once more and nodded. “Understandable.”
Peter smiled widely and leaned towards her. “So…what do you think? Does it say anything to you?”
“Only that you’re willing to go through a lot for your art,” Azalea admitted. She leaned back and looked at the photographs thoughtfully. “From what you said, I can see what you’re trying to capture…I don’t really know what else to say. You should ask Patricia. She’s good at this sort of thing.”
“I did,” Peter sighed as he ran a hand through his short hair. “The first thing she noticed was the garbage in the background and then couldn’t stop making cracks about it.”
“That sounds like Patricia,” Azalea nodded. “They came out clear, though, and it looks good.”
“Thanks,” he smiled. “So, why’d you come by for Miss Moon? I usually don’t see you two hanging around each other unless it’s in the morning.”
“I needed help with a project,” Azalea told him, completely forgetting that the young man in front of her was the man she had earlier watched walk off in a trance. When he wasn’t surrounded by the school’s popular crowd, he was sort of comfortable to be around. “I thought she could help me.”
Peter tilted his head to the side, curiously. His eyebrows furrowed as pushed himself off of the counter. “What kind of project?”
“Biology,” Azalea shrugged. She let out a heavy breath and met his gaze. “You guys are in a higher level science class, so it’s probably easy for you.”
“Biology, huh…” Peter thought for a moment. He stood up straight and motioned for her to follow him out of the dark room. “What do you have to do?”
“A model of a plant or animal cell,” Azalea told him. “I’m not creative in the least, so I have no idea how to do it. I doubt a crappy stick figure drawing will be good enough.”
Peter chuckled as he held up the curtains leading outside for her to slip under. He followed her out into the brightly lit class. Azalea stopped to the side to blink and adjust her eyes. When she her eyes adjusted, she walked over to the vacant desk where she had left her bag.
“I remember doing that project,” Peter said as he followed her. “It wasn’t that hard, but an actual 3D model is required.”
“I thought so,” Azalea admitted as she unzipped her bag and dug through its contents. “That’s why I’m here to find Patricia.” She found a pink print out and pulled it out from where it was pinned in her binder.
She held out and Peter took it from her hands. He sat on the desk beside her as he read through the project specifications. “Patricia’s really busy, you know.”
“Yeah,” Azalea agreed. She took a seat on a chair and slumped over her bag. “But I don’t know who else can help me.”
On the desk beside her, Peter glanced down and quickly darted his eyes away. “I can help you,” he offered.
Azalea tilted her head up, looking at him as if asking if he were crazy. “Thanks, but I was under the impression that you’re really busy,” she admitted. She narrowed her eyes. “Aren’t you in basketball, too? I doubt you have time if you’re that busy.”
“Not as busy as Miss Moon,” Peter assured her. He placed the pink paper on the table and tapped on it with his finger. “It’s an easy project. You can get it done in a few hours. It’s really no trouble.”
She looked reluctant. “I really appreciate your offer, Peter,” she told him as she sat up straight. Clearly she was crazy. The most popular guy in the school was basically offering to spend quality alone time with her and she was rejecting him. If his die-hard stalkers heard, she would probably be mugged on her way home.
“To be honest, I can really use your help on this,” Peter said as he smiled weakly. “I owe Patricia a favor and you know how she is with favors…” he trailed off.
Azalea cringed. When the intelligent and extremely responsible Patricia Hyang Moon called in a favor, it wasn’t just a simple one. Once, Azalea had to run out in the middle of her free period to go to Patricia’s house and bring back a pair of shoes because Patricia’s heels and broken. Her house was also up a hill several blocks.
“Yeah, I still owe her several ones for other projects,” Azalea admitted. She looked down at the paper and bit her lower lip. She could ask Patricia and have yet another favor to owe or she could take up Peter’s offer and get to know him better. “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?”
“I wouldn’t offer if I did,” he assured her. “We just need to go buy the supplies and put it together. I won’t take long at all.”
Azalea let out a heavy breath and weighed her options. “Okay,” she nodded slowly. “Thanks.”
A.N. - I'm still above the required 1,667 words required per day for this project. :D
Chapter: Two- A
By: E (DamageCtrl, Pasifik, etc.)
Fandom: Original Fiction
Warnings: Hemorrhages may occur upon reading this. Read at your own risk.
Rating: T
Summary: Demi-Demon Azalea is a few credits shy of graduating high school on time, but lucky for her, Ola Hel has gotten her into an internship at Centrale Station; the ‘police’ hub for Left World citizens.
Azalea slowly walked down the halls of the school during the lunch hour. Her eyes were focused on the canary yellow sheet of paper that she had been handed moments earlier by a concerned counselor. It was stapled with a print out of her transcripts, which bared the balance on her graduation credits.
“We can get you into summer school, but you will still only be allowed to take two this summer,” her counselor had told her. “You have very few options other to take on more classes in the next year.”
“If I take them and pass, will I have enough credits to graduate?” Azalea asked worriedly. The rotund woman across from her nodded and adjusted her glasses.
“There shouldn’t be a problem. Let me print you out a schedule of the summer classes being offered this year. You’ve passed all your required classes so you won’t have to re-take anything,” the woman said as she fiddled with her computer. “I would go against signing up for easy electives during the summer because they will give you less credits. Advanced electives, like a foreign language or one of the advanced art classes are your best choice.”
The student had merely sat there, nodding her head as she was shown the yellow print out. Her counselor ran through the available courses with her, giving her a brief summary of each before telling her if it would help or not. Afterwards, she was given a sample schedule of her proposed senior year.
She had tried her best not to let out a pained groan. Every single period was filled. Everyone she knew would most likely have one, if not more, free periods. In fact, she knew Patricia had so many credits that she was only planning to take the minimum amount of classes their senior year. She never envied the other girl more.
After she thanked the counselor, Azalea gathered the information sheets and headed out the door. Not only did she have to worry about the coming summer and year, but she had to worry about her current year. If she failed another class, that would spell even more trouble for her and she did not need to sit through another lecture with her parents.
She released a heavy breath and looked up from the sheet. Her biology class had a project due and she could use all the help she could get. At least her best friend was an honor student who didn’t mind helping her.
“Thank you, Patricia, for being the most reliable friend ever,” she murmured under her breath as she walked down the hall to the photography lab. She vaguely remembered the Blessed’s schedule for that day. It was the one day during the week she did not have a club meeting during her lunch period and, since she lacked a dark room at home, it was also the day Patricia spent her free time in the photography lab to finish her remaining projects.
Azalea stepped through the open door, surprised not to see anyone in the classroom itself. Her eyes moved over to the door that was lined with black curtains. She stopped by one of the desks and placed her backpack on it before unzipping the top compartment and shoving the papers from her counselor inside. She tugged up the zippers before leaving the bag behind and heading to the dark room.
Smiling briefly as she parted the black curtains, she remembered the first time she had entered to try to find Patricia. The teacher told her that the honors student was in the dark room and for Azalea to simply step inside.
Not sure what to expect, Azalea parted the thick, light obscuring drapes and found herself in small room of pitch darkness. Apparently, she had wandered into the space before the actual darkroom, but her confused yells had brought Patricia to her. The other girl claimed she was the worst demon ever after she actually panicked in the dark.
Azalea stepped forward and separated another set of curtains to reveal a larger room bathed in red light. The smell of chemicals was in the air as various student photographs hung from lines to dry.
“Excuse me,” she called out as she looked around the room. She had only been there twice before. “Is Patricia here?”
“Azalea?” Her head turned toward the owner of the voice, surprised that they knew who she was until she saw the owner’s face. “Hi,” he smiled as he lowered his arms after he finished pinning his photograph on to the line. “Patricia went to run an errand for Mrs. Jenkins. She’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Oh…” Her face was heating up, she could practically feel it. She forgot that Peter took photo, too. “Okay. I’ll go wait outside then.” She turned around, silently hoping that the red light didn’t make her blush apparent as the young man behind her capped a bottle.
“Hey, wait a second,” Peter called out quickly, before Azalea could reach the black curtains. “Can you tell me what you think of my photos?”
The black haired demi-demon looked over her shoulder, surprised. “Me?”
“Yeah,” Peter nodded. “I’ve been asking everyone and can always use the critique.”
Hesitantly, Azalea stepped forward. “I don’t know anything about photography.”
“It doesn’t matter, you don’t need to,” he assured her. Peter encouragingly waved her over and had her stand in front of some pictures hanging on the line.
“Is this the same project as Patricia’s?”
“Yeah, ‘man and nature’,” Peter informed her. “I just finished taking them this weekend.”
Azalea squinted and peered up at the black and white photos. She could make out small flowers, most likely wild flowers or some sort of weed…and then her eyes crinkled up. “Did you take these at the dump?” she asked with disbelief.
Peter let out a laugh and nodded. “I see you noticed the trash pile behind the flowers,” he chuckled. “I thought the whole man and nature thing can be portrayed with our garbage and how even then nature tries to reclaim it for herself, though it may be a losing battle.”
She nodded, carefully taking in the photograph. As she moved on to the next one she looked back at him. “Did they let you go inside the dump to take them or did you sneak inside?”
“I asked and I was lucky enough that they let me go inside,” Peter told her. Azalea looked back at the photograph. She could make out the machines in the background, pushing piles of garbage together to form a mountain that would later be flattened with a steam roller. “I had to go with an actual employee, of course, and I had to wear a helmet.”
“Wow…” Azalea murmured. “That’s a lot for a photo.” She looked back at him curiously. “Did it really smell that bad?”
Peter’s eyes widened as he nodded. “Oh, yeah…you have no idea,” he told her as he leaned back against the counter. He crossed his arms over his chest as he narrowed his eyes. “It was terrible. Even afterwards my clothes reeked.”
Beside him, Azalea laughed. “I bet. How long did you spend at the dump?”
“Less than three hours, but that was more than enough,” Peters told her. “My dad said that if the truck still smelled like the dump in a week, he’d never let me drive again.”
The black-haired girl laughed once more and nodded. “Understandable.”
Peter smiled widely and leaned towards her. “So…what do you think? Does it say anything to you?”
“Only that you’re willing to go through a lot for your art,” Azalea admitted. She leaned back and looked at the photographs thoughtfully. “From what you said, I can see what you’re trying to capture…I don’t really know what else to say. You should ask Patricia. She’s good at this sort of thing.”
“I did,” Peter sighed as he ran a hand through his short hair. “The first thing she noticed was the garbage in the background and then couldn’t stop making cracks about it.”
“That sounds like Patricia,” Azalea nodded. “They came out clear, though, and it looks good.”
“Thanks,” he smiled. “So, why’d you come by for Miss Moon? I usually don’t see you two hanging around each other unless it’s in the morning.”
“I needed help with a project,” Azalea told him, completely forgetting that the young man in front of her was the man she had earlier watched walk off in a trance. When he wasn’t surrounded by the school’s popular crowd, he was sort of comfortable to be around. “I thought she could help me.”
Peter tilted his head to the side, curiously. His eyebrows furrowed as pushed himself off of the counter. “What kind of project?”
“Biology,” Azalea shrugged. She let out a heavy breath and met his gaze. “You guys are in a higher level science class, so it’s probably easy for you.”
“Biology, huh…” Peter thought for a moment. He stood up straight and motioned for her to follow him out of the dark room. “What do you have to do?”
“A model of a plant or animal cell,” Azalea told him. “I’m not creative in the least, so I have no idea how to do it. I doubt a crappy stick figure drawing will be good enough.”
Peter chuckled as he held up the curtains leading outside for her to slip under. He followed her out into the brightly lit class. Azalea stopped to the side to blink and adjust her eyes. When she her eyes adjusted, she walked over to the vacant desk where she had left her bag.
“I remember doing that project,” Peter said as he followed her. “It wasn’t that hard, but an actual 3D model is required.”
“I thought so,” Azalea admitted as she unzipped her bag and dug through its contents. “That’s why I’m here to find Patricia.” She found a pink print out and pulled it out from where it was pinned in her binder.
She held out and Peter took it from her hands. He sat on the desk beside her as he read through the project specifications. “Patricia’s really busy, you know.”
“Yeah,” Azalea agreed. She took a seat on a chair and slumped over her bag. “But I don’t know who else can help me.”
On the desk beside her, Peter glanced down and quickly darted his eyes away. “I can help you,” he offered.
Azalea tilted her head up, looking at him as if asking if he were crazy. “Thanks, but I was under the impression that you’re really busy,” she admitted. She narrowed her eyes. “Aren’t you in basketball, too? I doubt you have time if you’re that busy.”
“Not as busy as Miss Moon,” Peter assured her. He placed the pink paper on the table and tapped on it with his finger. “It’s an easy project. You can get it done in a few hours. It’s really no trouble.”
She looked reluctant. “I really appreciate your offer, Peter,” she told him as she sat up straight. Clearly she was crazy. The most popular guy in the school was basically offering to spend quality alone time with her and she was rejecting him. If his die-hard stalkers heard, she would probably be mugged on her way home.
“To be honest, I can really use your help on this,” Peter said as he smiled weakly. “I owe Patricia a favor and you know how she is with favors…” he trailed off.
Azalea cringed. When the intelligent and extremely responsible Patricia Hyang Moon called in a favor, it wasn’t just a simple one. Once, Azalea had to run out in the middle of her free period to go to Patricia’s house and bring back a pair of shoes because Patricia’s heels and broken. Her house was also up a hill several blocks.
“Yeah, I still owe her several ones for other projects,” Azalea admitted. She looked down at the paper and bit her lower lip. She could ask Patricia and have yet another favor to owe or she could take up Peter’s offer and get to know him better. “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?”
“I wouldn’t offer if I did,” he assured her. “We just need to go buy the supplies and put it together. I won’t take long at all.”
Azalea let out a heavy breath and weighed her options. “Okay,” she nodded slowly. “Thanks.”
A.N. - I'm still above the required 1,667 words required per day for this project. :D