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New Kid at School

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“Whew, missed two days and I’ll need four days to complete all of the work,” Myriil chuckled as she methodically packed all of her assignments, notes and writing implements into her shoulder bag. It was the same dark blue as the boys’ uniforms, long-sleeve, button-up shirts, and dress pants; if seen in full light, the ornamental designs in the fabric shone azure. The girl’s uniform was the sailor type, but the skirt and collar were a sky blue, and the bandanna was sunlight yellow; it carried the same ornamental designs along the hems. It was not a special uniform but it was designed in-house by the Sewing Club; Krill and Angela were always prepared to make adjustments and quick fixes.

The only item Myriil did not pack up was her Student Council agenda was the reason she missed two school days in the first place. Myriil wanted to submit all of the forms, notes, then get Xavic up to speed on their newest acquisitions, rules and plans for the future.

“U-Um, Prezeedent?”

Myriil looked up from her bag. One of her peers, a male half-orc, Björk, was standing next to her desk; his hands crumpled the hem of his uniform shirt into a mess as he spoke, but Myriil kept her smile lifted up in case he looked at her and not her desk.

“Ur, um, if you needed help,” Björk struggled, trying to work his tongue around the bizarre tones and inflections of the airy Elvish language. Myriil waited patiently. “I were finished some days ago, I could given you help if you wanted to.”

“Thank you, Björk.” Myriil gurgled in Orkwellian, hoping she had gotten the sounds correct. She reached over and placed her hand over his, successfully getting his attention; his head snapped up, face twisted in embarrassment. Myriil’s pale slender fingers resting gently on a rough, callused hands the colour of lichen; it was beautifully unnatural, sparking curiosity or jealousy amongst those able to see it.

“I have a study period tomorrow, so I’ll get it all done, but I appreciate you asking.”

“A-Any time, Prez.” Björk stammered in his native tongue, unable to prepare his mind for translation this time. His thin, black hair fell around his face when he looked down at their hands, still connected as Myriil pushed her chair back and stood up.

“Be mindful of your verb tenses,” she told him, small hand patting his larger ones. Björk was very intelligent when it came to history and languages, and he was always striving to improve his communication channels. At present he was studying Farayan region Elvish, and his progress was impressive. Myriil congratulated him first in her language, and then his. “But you are doing so well, Björk. I'm very proud of you.”

“Th-thank you, Prez!” Björk beamed, still embarrassed but too happy to be inhibited by it. “I’ll do my best,” he added before hurrying out of the room; he also played the human sport, soccer, and practice started in eight minutes.

“Myriil, do not forget about the meeting tomorrow,” Professor Morstuf grunted, stuffing his papers into his bag; his expression was impatient albeit resigned. “4pm, Fairleaf Conference Room.”

“Of course, sir.” Myriil placed her hand on her Student Council folder, tapping her fingers down one by one. “Xavic and I will be ready.”

“Good,” Professor Morstuf huffed while escaping the room.

Then the flood gates broke open.

“President, so what was Calla like?”

“Did the assembly go well? What did they say?”

“Oooh! We missed you, Presideeeeeeent!”

Myriil sighed, happy as she fielded question after query from the crowd that formed around her. They allowed movement after some time, though the troupe tailed her through the halls. Myriil didn’t mind much, pleased she could be of help and a source of information or encouragement to her fellow students. She listened to any complaints and made notes in her planner as she walked, promising to bring up the issues in the meeting tomorrow; she expressed gratitude to every platitude and well-wish over her return. The popularity often baffled Myriil, the biggest factor being the unprompted fan club who celebrated and guarded her quite jealously. Though their reverence was embarrassing, she didn’t intervene unless their behaviour became cruel to their peers. More than anything, Myriil just wished for everyone’s happiness, even if she did not understand what made them happiest.

The trouble with Myriil, however, was her regular inability to dismiss the cloud of fans that would accumulate at her heels. Many knew this and took advantage of it, while others, like Kurix, eventually caved to frustration and took matters into his own hands.

“Would the Student Council president make her way down to the office?” crackled through the halls, freakishly accurate to Principal Rulez’s craggy drawl raking through the P.A. system. Myriil’s followers sulked, starting up a clamour of complaints about the dictatorship they suffered in. Until the self-appointed VP of Myriil’s club, a goblin named Naztea spun around and pointed at Kurix.

“This iz another of hiz tricks, I’ll bet.”

Kurix scoffed into the hands cupped around his mouth, stepping away from the bulletin board he was leaning on. “You’d bet on anything, Naztea. Clear off, Myriil’s my abductee.”

“Why do you get Prez?” Moniqué, a tenth grader human female, stepped in front of Kurix, despite his foot and a half advantage on her. Her eyes fired enough daggers to compensate for the lack. “You get to see her all the time.”

“Please everyone, I should go anyhow,” Myriil intervened, getting between Kurix and Moniqué; she raised her hands in surrender. Her smile stayed constant, though concern pulled at the edges. “Thank you very much for your kind welcome back—”

“But I really don’t care about anything you have to say,” Kurix interrupted with his best Myriil impression. Anyone who hadn’t seen Kurix open his mouth snapped to attention, unable to process the idea of Myriil speaking in a caustic manner.

“Kurix!” Before Myriil could turn around and chastise the mischievous male, Kurix wrapped his arms about her shoulders and dragged her backwards, hostage-style.

“C’mon now, ‘Prez’.” Kurix stuck his tongue out at the glowering crowd, his smile victorious, then spun his captive around and started walking her at his side. “You have responsibilities, unlike some people.

“Unlike you!” Moniqué spat back, the crowd dispersing. Some considered more protest but they could never tell if Kurix’s messages were in truth or not. The last time they argued, Principal Rulez, a twelve-foot-tall dwarf-giant with a thunderhead voice, stomped through the halls – almost shattering windows – and yelling out detentions to anyone within a three-foot radius of Myriil. She managed to get the punishments lifted but it was not a situation anyone dared repeat.

“When are you gonna learn to be mean once and a while?” Kurix huffed, stretching his arms upwards then resting his hands behind his head.

“Maybe when you learn to be civil?” Myriil giggled, glancing up at her less-than-chivalrous knight. She had known Kurix since first-year and a series of unfortunate events, and though he tended to cause more trouble than relief, they were good friends. Kurix was a doppelganger, a creature of androgynous appearance, so between male and female that with the right make-up and clothing details, he could pass for either gender. His talent, aside from school nuisance, was acting, both in behaviour and voice mimicry, as his earlier stunt proved.

“Soooooo…have you met the new student yet?” Kurix teased, looking to avoid a potential lecture of not impersonating the principal anymore; Myriil was obligated to reprimand him and he wasn’t going to listen anyhow.

Myriil shook her head, her long hair spraying quicksilver across her shoulders when the sunlight caught it. “No, I;ve been too busy today. I missed homeroom, and I had a make-up test with Professor Morestuf at the end of the day.” She and Kurix turned towards the stairs and began the descent from floor three to ground level. “What is he like?”

“Bloody idiot, that’s what,” Kurix stated in in the bluntest voice he could muster.

“Kurix, please don’t be insulting,” Myriil sighed, looking at her companion with disappointment flickering in the grey-blue canvas of her eyes. Kurix scoffed in response, dismissing her with a hand wave.

“I’m not; he’s big, thick, and a fright to the general student body.” Kurix sulked. He hadn’t had the chance or the inclination to investigate but he’d seen the guy walking about. “Just ask Xavic.”

“I—”

“My-chan! You’re back!” Cheered Dennis, another of Myriil’s friends, a human male who was best known for his skills in breakdancing and photography; he waved with his newest camera tight in his hand, meeting Myriil and Kurix at the bottom of the stairs.

“Hi Dennis.” Myriil smiled and gave her friend a hug. “That’s a beautiful camera, when did you get it?”

“Yesterday.” Dennis grinned, presenting the camera to Myriil and Kurix, detailing all of its specialties and features with the excitement of a kid. Myriil listened rapaciously while Kurix fussed with a hangnail.

“I hope the assembly went well?” Dennis drawled the words out once he lowered the camera from the discussion table. His smile quirked up on the left side. “More funding for the extra curricular clubs passed through?”

“Sorry Dennis, I can’t reveal information just yet,” Myriil said, her eyes and smile apologetic as her vows of confidentiality remained unbroken. “I promise you’ll know on Friday.”

“Nah, I trust you.” Dennis laughed. “You never let us down, My.” He looked at his wrist and flinched, a flash of red painting his cheeks. “Uh, gotta run. Meeting Sehi in five.”

Sehi was a girl Dennis had a crush on—none too subtly either—though their relationship beyond friends was still unknown to the rest of the school.

“Don’t run too fast,” Myriil warned, giggling. “Jurgen is on the prowl for rulebreakers today.” Jurgen was the Student Council treasurer with little tolerance for broken rules and frivolous spending. He was a dwarf, standing only at four feet, but his no-nonsense attitude and stocky frame more than made up for the lack of height.

“I’ll be careful,” Dennis called over his shoulder, packing his camera in its bag as he went. “Bye!”

“You finished being distracted?” Kurix gave Myriil a small push between the shoulderblades, physical encouragement to keep moving before the mob returned.

Myriil sighed, deciding not to argue. “The new student is Akaharu Raigen, correct?” She started to open her folder before she remembered the dossier was waiting for her in the Student Council room.

“Something like that.” Kurix shrugged; he hadn’t paid much attention during homeroom, only noticing Raigen when he said something stupid or started skulking about, hands deep in his pockets and his head titled downward, looking like a guy with a secret to hide. “Rumour is he got expelled from dozens of schools for fighting; left lots of guys in traction. All the girls so far are terrified of him.”

“Nice to see he’s received a warm welcome.” Myriil exhaled, a wry sulk disgracing her normally cheerful expression. She pressed the folder against her chest, caressing her thumb up and down the glossy stock. Contemplation whispered over her face, pooling where she bit her lip, then drifted away when she looked up at Kurix. “Do you know where Raigen might be now?”

“Yup,” Kurix replied without a pause. He crossed his arms and flicked his fingers in the direction of the window facing the soccer field. A tall human with an impressive muscular build and blonde hair that seemed of lightning was hastily striding between the building and the soccer practice, hands in pockets, gaze down. He had his sleeves rolled all the way up to the shoulders, and the front of the shirt was unbuttoned, revealing his physique and likely explaining most of the fear; to be so young and muscular would lead to certain negative perceptions.

Myriil didn’t have long to observe Raigen before a soccer ball torpedoed away from the field. A distant “heads-up!” caught Raigen’s attention, and he spun to look. The wayward ball nailed him in the forehead, striking hard enough to knock him onto his rear. He was wearing what looked like orange sunglasses, which flew from his face on impact.

At first, there was only silence, so thick the ball could be heard thumping to the ground. Then, as the shock abated, the laughter began, only hushed snickers to start but soon a chorus of raucous guffaws. The jeers were not far behind.

“Aww, man, did you see that? What a shot!”

“Seriously, what loser looks that way instead of ducking?”

“Not so big and scary now, not when he’s up against a big, scary soccer ball.”

“Eeewww, what’s with the blood? What kinda freak gets cut by a soccer ball?”

Raigen lurched forward onto his knees, searching out his fallen glasses while blood drooled from his forehead and down his face, into his eyes. He said nothing, looking at no one, though his face and neck flushed red, near darker than the crimson rivulets tattooing his skin.

“Wow,” Kurix whistled, setting his hands on his hips. “Gotta admit that was a great shot.” He looked to the side and saw Myriil already exiting the school through the door near the stairs; it came as no surprise though he huffed out a chuckle and continued on his way, already bored of the scene.

Myriil ditched her bag, folder already packed within, in the grass near the fountain, tugged the yellow handkerchief from her uniform and promptly soaked it with water. She ignored all of the commotion around her, wringing out the cloth before dashing to Raigen’s side. He managed to gather his glasses into his hands, relieved they weren’t broken. That’s when Myriil knelt down in front of him.

“Are you all right?” She asked, touching the cool cloth to Raigen’s forehead; the cut didn’t seem deep but the blood steadily leached into the sunlight, staining the bandanna orange immediately. Raigen jerked his head up, staring at Myriil with saucer-sized eyes. They were beautiful, golden and gentle when a glare didn’t have possession of his features. He didn’t speak though, struck dumb. “I’m very sorry,” Myriil murmured, her grey-blue eyes glistening with varied emotions. “I’m so sorry about their behaviour.”

Raigen still said nothing, falling back onto his butt as if he hadn’t the strength to stand. Myriil still had to kneel at her fullest height to tend his cut properly, shuffling closer to keep sufficient pressure on the wound. Around them, the amusement dulled to clandestine whispers, questioning Myriil’s actions, her lack of fear and inattention to the blood dripping onto her uniform.

Myriil kept her eyes on Raigen, biting gently on her lip as she cleaned away the blood on his forehead, leaning closer to be sure he was physically okay. Raigen flushed carmine, so red it seemed steam lifted from his face.

“Did you want to go to the nurse’s office?” Myriil asked, her eyes meeting his unabashed once again. Raigen flinched, confusion and what might be considered fear pinching his cheeks and pressing his lips together.

“N-Nuh, I-I……” he sputtered. The blood that had dripped down his face glittered rubies when Myriil shifted her weight, her eyes studying Raigen with an intensity he’d never experienced from a girl. Guys would look at him with hard, provoking stares but those were familiar and easy to understand. Girls only ever looked at him with disgust; another look he understood on sight.

“Raigen?” Myriil’s voice was soft, carrying a waver that hinted at tears. Or that’s the fragile sound Raigen perceived when it reached his ears. He scrunched up his face, looking guilty, apologetic and confused all together, then shouted as if the extended silence magnified his voice.


“I’m sorry! I-I’m fine!” Raigen shuffled back, then twisted up to his feet and ran in the opposite direction as fast as his body would take him; dirt clumps kicked up behind him in a crude wake. Myriil started to call after him, then quieted, lowering the bloodied bandanna into her lap as she sat back on her feet. He was gone in seconds, face still tattooed with crimson. In the distance, there were a few yelps and curses to indicate his travel, then nothing. New insults and jeers littered the quad, the poisonous breaths enveloping Myriil as she sat there, kneeling in pained silence.

“Did you see that? The way he treated Prez?”

“She’s so nice to him and he rejects her like that?”

“Not even a thank you? So rude.”

“Enough…” Myriil murmured. She tilted her head down, staring down at the bloodied cloth in her hands, the fabric now red- orange and tangled within her fingers. Her silvery bangs fell into her eyes, hiding the twister of emotions laying siege to her patience and tolerance.

“He’s such a brute, right? Always walking around like he’s so tough?”

“I heard he put lotsa guys in the hospital. He probably beats up girls too.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised. No other school will take him.”

“Alular shouldn’t have either.”

“We don’t need someone like that here.”

“That’s enough!”

A fresh silence struck the grounds, an ugly raw quiet that settled thick in everyone’s throat. No one dared speak, all attention shifting center to where Myriil stood, her bloodied scarf tight in her fingers, smudging the pale canvas carmine. A tremble shook her slender frame, striking her between the shoulders and quaking downwards.

“Prez?” A human asked, shifting the books in her arms with anxiety written across her face.

“How can you all be so cruel? This is your classmate, your peer…” Myriil lifted her head and turned about, her eyes bright with tears and singling out each and every culprit. “Such behaviour; it’s barbaric”

Heads started to tilt down, weights went from foot to foot, lips blushed when bitten, near as red as their cheeks. Some kept their shamed faces on Myriil, watching the bloodstains on her uniform glare at them accusingly. Those who had not spoken felt equally guilty for allowing the public humiliation to continue.

“I go to meeting after meeting,” Myriil continued, her voice unflinching as her tears streaked down, “fighting and defending our school’s honour, striving to prove we are worthy of respect.”

“With all due respect, Prez,” Xiuhcoatl interjected, folding his thick, scaled arms over his chest. Xiuhcoatl was a rare individual, an albino Dragonak—anthrodragon—and had been at Alular for ten of his thirty-year at high school. While supportive of Myriil’s persistence and goals for the school, he was jaded and not shy about questioning the Student Council’s intentions and progress at every convenience. “But those schools and directors ain’t never gonna respect us.” His cherry-red eyes flicked side-to-side, studying Myriil as she turned to him. “Never have and never will.”

Myriil did not hesitate. “And why should they?” Xiuhcoatl flinched, taken by her firm voice and unyielding eyes. The blue of her irises was almost gone, misted away by the grey and tears. “When we won’t even respect each other?”

That challenge ended the debate. Xiuhcoatl opened his mouth, raising one claw as if the gesture would generate a pithy rebuttal, then he slumped against the school wall, casting his glare aside. Myriil folded up her handkerchief into a limp square and walked back to her bag. She kept her gaze high, meeting the eyes of anyone who found the courage to look up.

“Prez? Um, we’re sorry…”

Myriil looked to her left. “That’s good, Kylie.” Their eyes met; Myriil recognized her voice as the girl who spoke earlier, and as a human whose parents could not afford to send her to an all-human school. This was Kylie’s second year at Alular, and it was no secret that the non-Alularian humans bullied her endlessly outside of the school walls. It was clear in the tomato blotches on her cheeks that she’d forgotten how horrible it was being a spectacle.

“But I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” Myriil concluded, her voice degrees cooler than anyone could remember her ever speaking. Kylie bowed her head and backed off, staging an example of how other students reacted as Myriil completed her journey to the Student Council office.

~~~

The Student Council room was unlocked. Myriil slipped inside and shut the door with her body; the solid oak barrier made an excellent brace to keep her upright. Her shoulder bag fell to the tiles with a “thump,” then collapsed flat where it landed. Releasing the breath she’d kept trapped for most of her walk, Myriil whimpered and touched the heel of her palm to her forehead. Pain throbbed beneath her touch, announcing the migraine she would get to enjoy for the next few hours.

“It’s strange,” seeped out of the shadows from across the room.

Myriil looked up, a weak smile on her lips.  “Xavic…”

“You look like someone who just got hit in the head with a soccer ball.” Xavic stood up, moving away from the shade-drawn windows and towards the hunched over Myriil. The dim glinted off his black, silver-streaked hair and ice-blue eyes. When he reached her side, Xavic gave a resigned sigh and touched a towel-wrapped ice pack against the spot Myriil moved her hand from. “Care to explain yourself?”

“I suppose Kurix told you?” Myriil murmured, reaching back with one hand to lock the door and up with the other to keep the ice in place. Xavic pursed his lips, the sourest expression he could muster, then led Myriil to a desk.

“No, Aud.” Xavic pulled another chair over, spun it around and straddled the back to sit down. Aud was another friend of theirs, an elf with a unique skill at sports and stealing the ball from even the most guarded of players. “She was part of the soccer practice, you know.”

“I suppose she’s mad at me then?” Myriil closed her eyes though the darkness did not offer any relief. Her head throbbed, pain pulsing in time with her heartbeat. Tears glistened along her eyes before falling to the desk.

“So am I.” Xavic glared at Myriil, the lines in his face stretched taut. He stared at the girl he was to follow and support and assist in all of the ways a Vice-President was to do. They were similar in multiple ways, being elves with naturally even temperaments, excellent grades and enough charisma to pose a threat to the restrictive attitudes of the education board. Xavic often thought of Myriil like a younger sister, determined to be her sword and shield so long as they were in office together. However, when she went and threw herself into a barrage of weapon fire without a second thought, it made his job far more frustrating than dealing with reticent teachers and unsatisfiable students was.

“I thought we agreed you weren’t going to use your ability at school, Myriil. It’s too risky…”

Myriil pressed her lips together. She did not want to have this conversation now yet knew she would not be able to escape Xavic’s interrogative habits until they did.

Myriil had a gift that only her family and closest companions knew. She could heal wounds, undoing any physical harm to all she could lay her hands on. It was a rare ability, and not well documented or studied as far as genetic mutation gifts went. The biggest factor in this lack of information was the price the wielder paid. In exchange for erasing the damage that required time and treatment to mend, Myriil had to adopt the pain she healed. The wound itself would disappear in relation to the amount of healing Myriil applied but she took on every iota of pain she took away.

It was not an easy secret to hide, and exponentially harder when she used it in the plain view of dozens.

“I’m sorry, Xavic.” Myriil leaned back in her chair, caressing the ice against her adopted “wound.” After a tight exhale, she opened her eyes and met Xavic’s bothered eyes. “I just…” she breathed; her eyes were damp with emotions. “…I wanted Raigen to know someone was on his side.”

“You didn’t have to heal him for that.” Xavic replied, his voice wry and unyielding. An embarrassed quirk pulled at Myriil’s lips, but Xavic didn’t budge. “He’s got a thick skull; I doubt he even felt it.”

“That’s not the point,” Myriil replied, her expression dulling to sombre. After a pause, she lifted her free hand and let her slender fingers drift over an old scar on her throat. Xavic stiffened and looked down, feeling the uncomfortable chill of bad memories pierce his defenses. He understood Myriil’s motivation now, even if he didn’t agree with her.

“Okay, okay, just…” Xavic conceded, sighing while the strength drained from his muscles and left him momentarily slumped on his chair. “Just don’t do it again, okay? You know what will happen if others find out.”

“Yes…” Myriil sighed, staring through stars of pain and the fog of memories.

“Thank you.” Xavic got up to go retrieve Myriil’s pack, deciding to let the conversation rest for the time being. Past or present, he didn’t want Myriil to be sad. “So, fill me in on this assembly.”
Introductions can be powerful things. They can be helpful or harmful, depending on the words and courage of the ones who approach those unfamiliar...

~~~

Merry Christmas, :iconbob-raigen: :santa::snowflake:

^^; So, after *Bob-Raigen started a high school manga, Orange and You, I suddenly had this idea to do a series of high school tales with my own characters, and the characters of my friends. :giggle: It won't be a consistent storyline; just a collection of stories when I get an idea.

In this one, Alular High has a new student. :rofl: Let's hope everyone gives him a warmer welcome eventually. :XD:



Myriil, Kurix, Xavic © :iconriku-of-darkness:

Akaharu Raigen © :iconbob-raigen:

Dennis Blake, Sehi © :iconsplgum:

Aud © :iconlady-tempest:


More characters will appear as stories are written. If you would like your character included, just let me know. :meow:


Free advertisement of groups/stories for featured friends! :iconalphario: :iconbloody-raigen-corner:
© 2012 - 2024 Riku-of-Darkness
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splgum's avatar
This was a lot longer than I had expected, but you described each scene and character with so much emotion and detail. :)

I love how Dennis calls her My-chan! The both of them are so cute! :XD:

And poor Raigen's gonna cause trouble again. ^^;

I can't wait to see how the story goes with Myrill and the gang. :D