Underneath The Skin (Oriel)

[Serena Varsair]

Normally, the auditorium would not be a place where Serena would be heading, especially on a Sunday, the day she usually reserved to be her slightly more introverted day. The only reason she was heading here was because she wanted to find one specific person. Oriel Vanguard.

Since she had gotten at Hammel, Oriel was a constant bother to her and as she could tell, other students. If anyone looked remotely different, he'd make his feelings known, and they were not good feelings. Serena had tangled with him several times by this point, and it had gotten to the point where thinking about him infiltrated her thoughts when she was least interested.

So, for the past twenty hours that she had been up, he kept coming up in her mind. There had to be a reason he was this way. You aren't just born that cruel. Serena needed to know.

Wearing a red tank top that hugged her chest in a pronounced way and black running shorts, with contacts on and her hair done up in a pony tail, she had just gotten done with her Sunday morning run. Normally she would've headed back to the dorm to take a shower and put on comfy clothes for the rest of the day. But no, she had heard that he was sometimes in the auditorium, and she had to see if he was there right now.

When she arrived, the auditorium was deserted except for one man on stage. It was, in fact, Oriel. He was dancing...and were those...heels?

Suppressing a laugh, Serena climbed up the side of the stage, totally okay if she was interrupting anything he was doing. She couldn't suppress the laugh when she spoke, the light French part of her accent almost not existent (insulting was just about all-American for her unless swear words came into play), "You know, with as much as you bother us, something has to be said about your heels. Namely, they look fabulous, too bad, you aren't as good looking as they are."

She had to admit, she was trying to bite into him a bit to start with, because, if Serena were honest with herself, he was good looking. The fact that she would totally be up for sleeping with him if he weren't such a bastard was not something he needed to know. "But I have to know, why do you bother us?"

[Deleted]

Oriel had spoken to Gryph about this a while back, and now that the winged Turkey was back on his feet(somewhat), Oriel was putting a head start on arranging the pair’s duo dance routine, which he hoped to present…sometime. Someplace. Eventually. If the dance instructor let them.

When the doors opened to the large, acoustical room, Oriel was in the middle of practicing said routine(HERE). And mouthing the words, of course, was there any doubt? It wasn’t perfect by far, but he was getting more confident in it with every run-through. And when it was finally perfected…Oriel was going to be absolutely fabulous!

Mwa ha ha ha ha ha ha!!

He ignored the wannabe anime ditz as she walked down to the stage and climbed onto it. There were more important things to do than let her interrupt his fabulous dance practice. When the music finally died down, he put a sassy hand on his hip and spoke in a classic, supergay tone. “Gurl, these aren’t just heel, they are stilettos, and they may be more fabulous than me, but they look far more fabulous on me than they ever would on you, honey.”

*snap* *snap* *snap*

Oriel snorted a snort of disdain and released a grunt of only mild annoyance as he dropped the super-gay act and stepped his way to a nearby chair where his towel and water bottle were set. “Because it’s entertaining. And oh yeah,” he started as if this were some unholy revelation. “I’m an asshole!” Cue jazz hands and devious grin.

[Serena Varsair]

The fact that he embraced her insult with more than just a natural shrug (unless a natural shrug was suddenly going all television stereotype in an exceedingly forceful, if also deeply entertaining to see in real life, way) was not only a surprise to her, it caught her completely off guard. Luckily for her, off-guard didn't last long when she was focused, her brain almost immediately jumped back.

"I don't feel the need to wear heels..." She refused to refer to them as stilettos. Heels were heels. "So I'm just fine, thanks. Why are you even wearing them? Those can't be comfortable...or even good to dance in."

Serena got a funny picture in her mind, and couldn't help but continue to run her mouth, "Say, when are you gonna perform? I'd love the chance to see you fall in those."

A pair of jazz hands later, and against every primary warning signal in her body, Serena found herself getting about a meter or two closer, "Causing emotional pain to others? That's fun to you?"

The fact that he was an asshole was not a revelation, though it served to only get her more upset at the situation. "You know, you don't bother me, trash like you never has. But don't you care at all about anyone else?"

[Deleted]

“The point is to dance in them,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Why would I be wearing them if I wasn’t intending on being fucking good at it.” And albeit he wasn’t perfect yet, he was a hella lot better than when he started. And leagues better than Phoenix, that poor boy would stumble over his own feet without the heels, much less with them(he could barely stand, actually, when this particular set finally came in the mail. Yeah, heels for men, baby!). Oriel sent a patronizing smirk over to the silverette(didn’t he know another one of those a few years ago?), tossing his hand-towel over his bare, sweat-sheened shoulder. “So sorry to disappoint you, sweetie, but I don’t plan on falling in these.” And even if he did, he’d probably work with it somehow to make it even more fabulous. That was how the theater worked, after all. Mistakes were expected to happen, even though you hoped they wouldn’t, and the funnest part was figuring out how to cover up and recover from them.

How hard was it to grasp the concept of dickery? He had to scoff at her holier-than-thou attitude as she questioned Oriel’s asshole hobby. “Says the person who just expressed a desire to see someone else fail after hours and hours of honest hard work.” Oriel faced the girl and offered a hand to shake. “Hi, kettle, my name is pot. Would you mind bending over and pouring me a cup of that sweet hypocrisy?” Hypocrites were annoying. At least Oriel was up-front and honest about his position as a Grade A- Asshole, and didn’t try to play it off as something justifiable.

Oriel dabbed at the sweat on his brow and wiped the streams pouring down the back of his neck. His calves and feet ached like a muther-fucking bitch, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to complain about it in front of her. “Yes, yes I do care about someone else,” he said casually, grabbing his water bottle and taking a very long, refreshing drink before addressing Pretty-titties again. “I just don’t care about you. I thought that was obvious though, so so sorry if I led you to believe otherwise.” Oriel held out his hand apologetically, his gaze ‘sincerely’ contrite for his blunder.

[Serena Varsair]

The eyeroll, the smirk, she just wanted to choke him. It was beginning to become hard for her to not just go over and grab at his throat. The visceral feeling of the possibility of doing so made her fingers tremble for a few moments, before she managed to hold herself.

"Forget it, then. Have fun with the stilettos, I hope they add what you want for the insane effort it takes to dance with them. I don't see how but I hope you get it. Truly," Though the word truly was spoken by Serena and came from her lips, she hated it. But she was taught respect was important and if he wanted so bad to dance in something clearly not designed for it, he could knock himself out (hopefully literally) doing so. The fact that she was wishing him bodily injury did not bother her in the slightest. He deserved anything he got.

Kettle and the pot? Kettle and the pot? He was honestly going there? He had dug so deep into his bag of insults to bring up that? Was he honestly so full of his own self that he believed that what he did and what she said were at all comparable to one another? And that hand he had stuck out? Though she had been slowly approaching him, she wasn't gonna touch his hand. "Save it, jerk. Just because I hope some karma decides to smack your ass doesn't make me anything like you. I doubt I'd be alone. Every person that you tear down for things they can't control or that they work hard on deserves to see you get to experience the same."

She took a breath, realizing she had gotten abruptly close to him. If he were to straighten his arm out and bend in her direction, he'd probably touch the edge of her chest. Serena chose this brief opportunity to catch his gaze if she could and say, "And if words people say won't matter to you, then maybe disgrace for something that does might reach you."

The fact that he cared about someone...anyone was a surprise. But what he said next wasn't, and yet it caused her insides to just boil more, "Clearly you do care, you berate my hair, my glasses enough. If you are going to only care about one person then when it comes to everyone else, Ta Gueule!"

Her switch to French was immediate and immediately made her both angrier and more frustrated at the same time. She had meant 'Shut the fuck up' but instead the French version (which basically meant the same thing with the energy she said it). Great, just another thing to make fun of her for.

[Deleted]

This chick really needed to take a tranquilizer or something, before she popped an unattractive vein on her head. Or keeled over from an embolism. “The sincerity of your words brings joy to my heart,” he said monotonously. But fuck(butt-fuck?), Oriel hadn’t met anyone this self-righteous and value-imposing since…well, Mia. Was it possible that six months from now, he and she would become naturally good friends enough to watch Frozen together too?

Oriel doubted it. Some cunts were cool. Some cunts were just cunts. Oriel wouldn’t say that out loud, though, since he promised Mia he wouldn’t use the term anymore…but that promise was a lot harder to keep in his thoughts, so he didn’t bother trying there.

Yes, people who condemned others so often found themselves doing the exact same thing they saw as deplorable. But it’s “okay” for them, because “reason reason reason double-standards”. Oriel had grown up with enough adults who pulled that ‘do as I say, not as I do’ bullshit, and he had no problem calling it out on a prissy self-involved teen like the one beside him. Even if he shoved it in her face(which he practically did), Oriel had no doubt that she would rationalize it to be ‘okay’ just like the rest of this fucked up world and dismiss the issue completely. “You’re taking pleasure in someone else’s suffering, how’s that not the same shit that I do, explain it to me?” Oriel snorted and shook his head. “What was that fucking saying? ‘Anyone who hates another has already committed murder in their heart?’” Oriel tilted his head, considering those words and how they applied to the situation, then shrugged. “Something like that, I think it’s a quote in the bible or something.” Not that he read it or anything, but he did remember hearing it from someone from somewhere.

Oriel clutched his chest suddenly and doubled over, ‘wounded’. “Oh! Ugh! You got me! I have seen the light with your white-light preaching and fear has struck upon my heart such that I have no choice but to repent for…other people’s idiocy, mainly yours.” Oriel had straightened out and dropped the act by the time he got to that last phrase. The show wasn’t worth putting on for a dim-witted nymphomaniac like this(not that Oriel could talk, but he hadn’t been like that for almost two years now, yaaay!).

Oriel had another comeback prepared for his ‘verbal assaulter’….but when she came out with the French(he didn’t know it was French), Oriel was quite honestly rendered speechless. Almost. “Tagalog?” he asked, pressing his eyebrows forward in his confusion, completely sidestepping everything else she’d said.

[Serena Varsair]

Serena's brain ran in overdrive, her focus on him just flooded its capabilities to think about anything else. She knew she was this close to striking him, she couldn't help it. It aggravated her almost as much as it happened. Stuck in a rage cycle, Serena had her anger directed at him and it was just eating her up. She stayed quiet to mono-tone.

All of the times Oriel had said something to her didn't bother her as much as she was internally raging right now. While she knew some showed in her body language and face, and she knew her heart rate and breathing were elevating, and her accent getting shaky, she managed to keep her physical form from expressing the firestorm of her mind that was eating apart at every single bit of her.

Why? Why was someone that way? How could he have been treated, what could have been done. When he spoke of the idiocy and preaching, Serena gritted her teeth and held her stomach in to slow down her breathing just a bit. If attention was paid to her face, it would be an almost purely inquisitive look. She just didn't understand it. Her arms were as straightened out and her hands as clenched as they could get. Begging for a scream to escape their bounds, her lips parted slightly but no words escaped.

When she had spoken and ended with the French swear word/phrase, it was like she had hit him with a truck the way he seemed derailed. And yet her cheeks were becoming red, not with anger but with embarrassment. At the whole situation not just those two words. All this time she had told him and herself that what he said didn't bother her and the truth was, since she had arrived at Hammel everything had bothered her, but he was the only thing that directly struck her, so her mind had been looking for was to strike him back.

The blood (or rather; the angry amount pumped through her whole body) seemed to drain from her slightly as she stood there, some sweat having formed just from the conversation (not the words but her body's handling of it). Her breathing had reached an all-new nervousness high...

Her voice was soft, and without the animosity it had had for most of the conversation. She gently corrected him, her French accent having bled into her American enough to notice, "Ta Gueule. It...it's...French for Shut the...for shut up."

The pauses weren't from indecision or fear but from her breath. She legitimately was having trouble breathing. She looked at him for a moment then took a step back away, putting a hand to her stomach and visibly trying to just slow her breathing. She had no more words for him, she couldn't think of what to say. The focus was blank and she just couldn't find the right word to start a sentence. The back of her mind told her she looked vulnerable right now...but she didn't care.

[Deleted]

Oriel wondered how long it would be before this chick finally popped like the weasel she was. Just looking at her, Oriel was almost(almost!) afraid she was going to start venting steam out her ears before her head rocketed into the ceiling. If that happened, he hoped it was due to an anatomical separation meta ability and not because her blood pressure had literally made her head explode. Would that make him a murder? Even though he never touched her? It wasn’t his fault she couldn’t keep her anger in check, Oriel took a whole class on how to do that last year! (It sucked!)

Though….watching her continue….was she having a panic attack or something? The sweat dripping from her brow, the flush that was spreading throughout her body….and how she seemed to be actively trying to keep her breathing under control.

Oriel had had his fair share of panic attacks before. He still had them, actually, on random middle-of-the-night terrors that his subconscious mind liked to prank him with. Maybe whatever was happening with dog-face here wasn’t exactly the same….but Oriel was able to recognize distress when he saw it, at least.

“French, huh? It’s callate in Spanish,” he offered calmly. Oriel only knew the bad words in that language. Oriel continued to study the girl’s growing physical distress. “Oy….you okay? Don’t you be passing out on me now, you hear?” As if demanding it made any difference to biology. Damn, she really was going to pass out on him, though, wasn’t she? “Shit…” he hissed, grabbing the chair he’d dumped his stuff on and emptying it completely. He stepped closer to the girl, making no effort to be cautious, and would push her from the shoulder to guide her into the the chair he’d dragged behind her, pending she let him get that far. “Here….sit down already, don’t want to have to be taking care of your tight ass ‘cause you’re too out of it to do it yourself, alright?” Oriel may be a dick, but he wasn’t the that kind of dick. If that made any sense.

[Serena Varsair]

While a little lost and light-headed, Serena wasn't going to pass out. Her overcharged ability to stay awake went beyond the physio-emotional exhaustion that would cause her to do so. But every sign she was giving off likely made it look like she did.

Funny about the Spanish word. She hadn't learned much at all of Spanish, she didn't really no any Spaniards that she hadn't spoken to in English (and for one in particular, few words were spoken in general). The memories of Kocher distracted her from him for just a moment before he asked if she was going to pass out. She strongly, but quietly, said, "I'm not okay...but I won't pa-" He was already moving, likely not caring what she said or not. (At least in her mind)

He was making a mess as near as she could tell, before he dragged over a chair. Dumbstruck by what he was doing as most of her mental capacity was still focusing on reducing her own breathing, she promptly responded to the force of him pulling her to the chair. Tight ass. She wondered in what way he meant it. Honestly, she doubted it was the "good" way. "Thanks... I think. I can take care of myself...but thanks."

Her breathing having slowed, her mind a bit cleared up again, she looked to him and said, with a even tone (but still a bit more French accent than earlier), "Look...I came here and I guess deep down I was looking for a fight, and I'm...I'm sorry."

There was small mental knot in her stomach. She was somewhat valid (at least in her own mind) of what she had come to talk to him about, but she wasn't in the right stay to talk about it. She was rude, borderline violent. It had happened again, her powers must've made her over-aggressive. She tried to hope and believe that was the case, and not the worse conclusion that she was almost as bad as Oriel.

"That..." she splayed her fingers outward toward the rough area they had been standing in, "I don't know why I-"

She stopped herself, shaking her head slightly. Looking back to him she asked, curiously, without sarcasm or malice, "Why do you dance? What do you get out of it?"

He wasn't the first male dancer she knew, but he was standing there, and she wasn't standing herself for a least a minute or two, so she sure as heck was going to talk. If understanding anything about him might help her understand what her mind was trying to unravel, then so be it.

[Deleted]

Serena wasn’t wrong. Oriel didn’t give two shits about what she said. She didn’t look alright, and that trumped any claims she made to the contrary. If there was one thing Oriel knew how to do, it was how to recognize distress and provide care for it. Though usually, those times were after a particularly rough bout with his dearly-beloved fiancee, Phoenix. Because sometimes that boy just didn’t speak up when he was reaching his limit, leaving Oriel to having to look for the signs himself.

He liked to think he was right to get the chair. If she was so out of it that all she could concentrate on was breathing, then she didn’t need to be concentrating on standing either. “If you say so, abuelita,” he said with a snort, shaking his head and patting hers. “Just don’t break a hip when you fall.”

With the girl taken care of, Oriel dared to leave her side in search of another chair. There was probably another one backstage. Just as he thought, right behind the curtain and leaning against the wall was another metal, folding chair, and Oriel dragged it out onto the stage as the girl spoke. “Didn’t need to tell me that, I could smell your lust for blood a whole fucking mile away.”

Oriel unfolded the chair and plopped down in it with a sigh of some relief at having finally gotten off his feet. “Shit….these things’re murder. Don’t know how chicks can wear ‘em all the time, know what I mean?” Oriel promptly started to remove them, fiddling with the tiny buckles to the straps that practically glued them to his feet. He snorted at her stammers. “You don’t got to apologize or make excuses or nothing. I’m enough of an ass to deserve that kind of attitude from people, just hate it when they get self-righteous on me, alright?”

Her question caught him by surprise, though. Oriel long believed that people weren’t really interested in him. As in, knowing anything about him, the whys, the whats, the hows. He sort of just forced that information on the people he considered his friends most of the time. And even then, half the time it wasn’t even presented seriously. Oriel continued to unravel his feet from their leathery bounds. “Why you want to know? Expecting some sob story ‘bout how an old granny took me to broadway when I was seven and it been my sappy dream to do the same ever since?” Oriel snorted a laugh, tossing the first shoes to the side, then lifting his other leg to work on the next. He gave her a look. “‘Cause the reason might just be that fucking saptacular, believe it or not. So if you want to laugh, then fuck you.” Yes, Oriel was mushy when it came right down to it, though he didn’t go around advertising it. Embarrassed? Of fucking course.

[Serena Varsair]

Yeah, lust for blood was probably pretty accurate, Serena had determined for herself at this point. He made a comment about the dumb stilettos he had, and said, "Yeah. I hate the times I have to wear them for a party. I try to go for really low ones. I don't care if it is supposed to make my ass sexier, I don't need it."

She hesitated to say more about the topic of her outburst for a moment, but her brain decided for her to say just a bit more, "Sometimes my mind just gets trapped in a loop and it kept going around you. You said I don't have to apologize, but it's not your fault. I mean..."

She paused but her brain was already going back up to full speed, "Yeah, it is your fault, you are a total ass, but it still doesn't justify what I was doing."

When he told her the story, as short as it was, she found herself just listening. No judgement, no laugh. In fact she smiled, not for the mirth but for how sweet it was. It also reminded her of her mother, a Broadway dancer herself. Granted, it was a minor role, but Serena enjoyed the videos of her practice she would sometimes get regardless. She looked at him with a small smile when she said, "Saptacular, totally. But very sweet. I would never laugh at that. My mom's dream was to beat a lead Broadway actress, but she couldn't sing all that well. But she dances...and she does it well." She motioned to the stilettos, "Heels of death aside, I wish you a lot of luck."

A small thought occured to her as she was sitting there, her breath and brain finally crystal clear, "There's a small chance my mom could you get an audition when you're done here. It's not very likely, and it'd probably be for a pretty small role, but it'd get your foot in the door."

[Deleted]

“Yeah, I like a good sexy ass though. And dancing in this shit’s the whole fucking point, so ain’t like I can go for the low rise shit.” He had to get used to it if he wanted to put on a good show. That’s just how the theater was. Theater, performance, etc, you endured for the sake of the show.

…….Oriel wanted to clean his ears out at the cheese she was suddenly spewing. “First you’re hostile, now you’re overly reasonable. Pick one and stick with it, it makes you seem like a mental case.” That was another way of him saying, ‘don’t apologize, i’m an ass’. Though he could definitely relate to the endless circulation of thoughts that could drive one mad enough to explode. He’d done it himself before. Several times.

Oriel didn’t ask about her mother, why was she advertising it? He shrugged. “I can sing, don’t got much training for it though.” So he didn’t know how much talent he actually had there. Oriel might be interested in finding out someday, but he only really cared about being a dancer, which he was already struggling with the reality that he might not be as good as he previously thought.

Heel of death finally off and on the floor, Oriel blankly stared at the girl(the fuck was her name again?). “….oh, now I know you wish for my death. Don’t you know you ain’t never s’pposed to wish luck in the theater?” He snorted. “It’s bad luck.” Hence why they say ‘break a leg’. Which arguably didn’t make much more sense, but superstitions superstitions.

The next tidbit, however, had him listening. Sorta. In that, he wasn’t sure what to think about it. Oriel started at her again, this time with wide eyes of surprise. He looked away, considering the….offer? “That an offer or something? Or you just dangling a carrot?” Either way, he wasn’t sure he had the guts to accept. Oriel was still trying to figure out what he was going to do after he graduated in the spring. The idea of not being at Hammel anymore was…daunting.

[Serena Varsair]

Serena really couldn't respond to his sexy ass comment. Not quite enough of a fan of his yet to really be all yay about that part. At least they could agree that heels were uncomfortable, and that's about all that mattered.

Laughing at his mental case comment, and then putting a hand to her mouth, catching herself a bit, a couple giggles still slipping through. Serena really couldn't help it, she thought herself a mental case sometimes when it came to her rage issues, "Yeah, well, I'm not hostile much."

Serena gave him a fake ultra-serious look while trying not to crack a smile, with a sarcastic serious voice, she said, "Then I certainly hope you break something. Probably a stiletto; hopefully not your back." Serena knew how bad a back injury (rare as they were) could be for a dancer. Her mom almost had to retire after a bad fall injured her back for six months. But she was back there now, so clearly something worked.

Hating the idea that she might just be dangling a carrot, Serena qucikly added, "I don't mean to be, but yeah, it could be. It's an offer; but I have no idea how it'll do. But I could talk to her...if you want me to, that is. At the very least, she might be able to give me...you, some pointers on how to do it."

Serena was kind of regretting putting out the offer that she might be able to help him. After all, her mother was a good dancer, but her time of influence was on the downswing and a kid out of high school wouldn't be likely to register. She could only hope that he kept his expectations low...

[Deleted]

Damn, even her laugh made her sound like a mental case. “That ain’t s’pposed to be compliment,” he said dryly. Oriel was like that himself far too much, and he hated being associated with something like a ‘mental illness’. It seemed like a cheap excuse for why he was the way he was. Like he was trying to shirk responsibility for being an asshole or something.

Oriel snorted, then gave the girl a nod. “Fine. I’ll break the damn shoe just for you. That satisfactory enough for you?” In all likelihood, though, Oriel was probably going to break his back trying to dance in those blasted thing long before the heel actually broke. Those things were made tough, surprising as that may be. Stilettos made specifically to hold the weight of a man, reinforced with an iron rod. Though that said, Oriel realized, he was probably more likely to get that heel jammed straight through his foot along with the broken back.

The idea of actually having an audition, for anything, was definitely appealing to the ill-tempered dancer. Or pointers. Getting any info on how to actually move forward with that part of his prospective career. Oriel hardly even had a clue of where to begin, other than to look on bulletin boards in the area and see what was available. In the area….that brought up another concern. “And where exactly would this ‘carrot-audition’ be located?” he asked. Because it wasn’t like he had the ability to go anywhere much further than Burlington at the moment. Being poor and all, that was just reality for him. Having low expectations was how he lived…

[Serena Varsair]

Avoiding any more about her supposed mental state or his performing, Serena stood up, stretching her legs. Her breathing was back to normal and her brain wasn't going on rage mode super cycles. Turning to face him, she tried to say something else but words failed her.

Instead she thought to the audition she had just offered, "I mean, I don't know, New York City somewhere, I imagine." Serena didn't even known if he were capable of getting to New York City if she could get him any sort of audition or something. "I'll be going there occasionally to see my uncle and cousin, you could come with me if I can get you any sort of audition..." She quickly added, "If you need the ride, that is."

Serena's stomach was in turmoil. She still didn't care all that much for him, but maybe a nice act might go a long way. Or it may do nothing at all. But at least she could try and make up for the fact she almost went rage mode all over him.