an armful of tinder {Michelle}

[Dennis Pautler]

They were just setting up the bonfire. Dennis was the match and the flame, of course; he’d be there before sunset, but for now, they’d more tinder to collect. Dennis roamed the woods, occasionally swatting mosquitoes from the sides of his head. It was late afternoon; the sun glowed through the branches and cast long shadows over the carpet of leaves. Once he’d filled his arms with a small bundle of twigs, Dennis eventually moved out into the open campsite area.

It was already getting dark – the horizon was a bluish orange haze – so he almost missed the figure sitting a ways away from the small crowd gathered around the dormant bonfire. It looked to be a girl, from what he could see…though really all he could make out were two small, hunched shoulders and a head of long hair.

Dennis didn’t see her as an opportunity, exactly. One would think, looking like he did, that he knew just what to say to girls and how – but the isolated ranch boy he was still flustered at the thought. It was just a convenient time and place. If he made an idiot of himself, only she would see it…and, well, avoiding one person the whole week here wouldn’t be so hard.

Still holding his sticks, Dennis changed course and ended up standing almost beside her shoulder. “Hey, I’m gonna start up the fire soon if you…” He noticed that she was doing something, but he went on anyways. “…if you wanna see it.”

[Michelle Reed]

Why Michelle had chosen to go on the yearly retreat was a mystery to her. Then again, her other choice was to stay back at the school with the small minority of students who didn't go or weren't allowed to go. Her parents encouraged their oldest daughter to go out and have fun with her peers.

What they weren't expecting was for her to be sitting on the outskirts of the growing circle, poised over with a mess of yarn on her lap. She sat on a stump, her backpack full of a small collection of string that she had brought to keep herself occupied during the trip. Michelle's fingers delicately moved through the strings, the familiar pattern taking over without much thought. Making bracelets was a mindless hobby, but one the quiet girl enjoyed.

In fact, she had been so observed with the task that she hadn't realized the sun was barely above the horizon and that a bonfire would be starting soon. Michelle enjoyed camping and other outdoorsy activities. Maybe she would edge closer once the flames started.

A voice cut into her thoughts. Michelle jumped a little in response, startled that someone had found their way over to her little corner. Her head turned to see who the voice was coming from, looking behind her shoulder to an incredibly tall boy, her fingers stopping the weaving process. "Oh..." She spoke softly, her gaze meeting his. "Oh, uh... sure." Michelle recognized him; it was hard not to. But she couldn't place a name to the face at the moment.

[Dennis Pautler]

Dennis shifted his grasp on the twigs. “Well, it’s not ‘til later,” he assured her.

He supposed he could have gone on and left her in peace, but he was looking at the piece of thread (he could see it now, though just barely in the fading light) in her hands. Dennis seemed consistently amazed with anyone possessing artistic talent, having none himself. It was a bracelet, it looked like. It had patterns and, he supposed, different colors – though he was blind to some. He would have pointed, if his arms weren’t full. “You’ll need more light if you wanna make some more of those. What are they?”

He had time. He wouldn’t be needed until the sun sank behind the treeline and then some. They needed to get paper plates and sticks for their marshmallows.

“You make those?” he asked next, and before she could even respond properly.

[Michelle Reed]

Michelle's posture relaxed a little when he assured her that the fire wasn't starting until later. Her eyes landed on the twigs he had in his arms, assuming that he was collecting those to burn. Normally, one would have asked if he needed help finding other sources of firewood or help setting up but Michelle stayed quiet.

Her grip on the string tightened, currently weaving a chevron pattern with red, white and black coloured string. He pointed out that she would need more light, which sounded like encouragement to join the rest of the group forming some distance away. She breathed out, about to reply when he asked another question. Shifting, Michelle turned so that she was facing him, still seated on the stump. It was more comfortable than craning over her shoulder to look up.

"Bracelets." Meekly, she nodded. "And yes, I do make those." Michelle let go of the current unfinished project in her lap, picking up a finished blue bracelet. "It's... fun." She finished lamely, aware that most teenagers her age didn't find that making bracelets was fun. Or knitting. They preferred sports, or partying, or other conventional hobbies.

[Dennis Pautler]

Dennis was one of those people who preferred sports, partying, and other things like that. But he didn’t scoff when she told him it was fun. He nodded and smiled and looked down over the bracelet again, this time tilting his head. He thought he needed a closer look, and leaned over to drop the bundle on the floor and sit beside her, not close enough to be uncomfortable, so he leaned over from a safe distance, clasping his hands between his knees.

“They look like stuff you’d get a store,” he said, which was meant to be a compliment. “Is it easy?”

He didn’t have a creative bone in his body. At least none that he knew about. One wouldn’t think so, looking at him – people assumed, what with his tattooed body – but those only spoke to his appreciation of art, not his skill. He paused briefly to look at her hands lifting a blue bracelet, her long wavy hair creating a sort of curtain her face, only the white bump of her small nose visible and the near-translucent rim of her eyelashes.

Dennis leaned back, suddenly self-conscious. “Sorry, am I bothering you?”

[Michelle Reed]

She ran her thumb along the shades of navy and baby blue, contrasting against one another. Surprisingly, Michelle noticed that he was nodding along to what she said, without an ounce of detectable judgement. Like he was genuinely interested in what she had to say. He dropped the firewood nearby, sitting next to her on the stump. She couldn't help the expression that crossed her face; a look of curiosity and bewilderment.

Michelle felt a blush give rise in her cheeks at the compliment. "Oh, I'm not sure about that." She quickly interjected, a soft smile appearing on her face. "But... but thank you." She hoped she hadn't given him the impression that she was impolite, or anything. As she worked to steady her racing thoughts, Michelle only confirmed that this exactly why she had the tendency to avoid people. What if she was making a fool of herself?

"Easiness would be subjective, I suppose. For me, it's easy, yeah." She rambled in her naturally quiet voice, barely above a whisper. She leaned forward, the messy waves of dark hair cascading to veil her face, still holding onto the finished bracelet. Peeking through her eyelashes, Michelle took in the other boy and the sight that he was. The first thing she'd noticed was his height. Upon further inspection, she noticed the ink that peeked out from under his clothes. The details of each tattoo.

He moved back, suddenly. Michelle's head lifted, to attempt to look at his face without flinching or shying away. "Oh, no no, you're fine." She said, another delicate smile painting her features. It was an impression Michelle often found she left on people, that she'd rather not interact with them. Which wasn't the case, at all. She just struggled with the aspect of socializing with her peers, scrambling to think of another topic. Something normal to talk about.

"So... you're going to the bonfire later?" Of course he was.

[Dennis Pautler]

Dennis understood that some people didn’t like to get up close and personal like he did. She assured him that he wasn’t bothering her, and he was forced to take her word for it. He smiled, too, noting how fragile and delicate hers appeared to be. Definitely a quiet sort. Maybe that was why he hadn’t seen her around: classes were a blur of faces and voices and things got lost in the mix.

“Am I gonna be there?” he said. “I’m lighting it up.”

Dennis didn’t know why he did it, but in an instant he’d had a hot flare of bright orange and yellow in the open palm of his hand. Don’t use your powers without reason, they said. Might burn the woods down, they said. Well, it couldn’t be much trouble if there was only a little bit burning at the tip of his fingers, no matter how much the thing had roared to life initially, lighting up their faces with warm color.

He looked at her, eyebrows raised and big smile on his face: look what I can do, it said.

[Michelle Reed]

The reciprocated smile made Michelle's widen for a moment, until she faltered and asked the blatantly obvious question. He was the one who told her about it in the first place. Her gaze fell to the ground momentarily until he spoke. She pushed the loose strands off of her face, confused. Why did it matter who started the fire? Couldn't anyone?

"Oh!" Michelle jumped a little, startled when the flames came to life in his hand. Given that it was a school full of metas, it was inevitable that she would someday come face to face with a pyrokinetic. It roared for a second, settling down into shades of orange and yellow in his palm. Michelle stared in awe for a moment before blue eyes settled on his face, painted with a wide grin. She felt the urge to touch the flames, to see if they were real, but figured that was a bad idea.

"That's.... wow." Michelle said with a short laugh. No wonder he was lighting the fire. "And that just comes... naturally?" She asked, with a curious tilt of her head. If so, she was impressed.

[Dennis Pautler]

He didn’t mean to startle her, although in retrospect, he’d no idea why it wouldn’t. Most people reacted that way if they were face to face with a palm full of fire.

Then her face lit up in a smile, and he smiled, too; his fist clenched to quench out the fire, where it rose upwards in a curl of smoke. He wasn’t allowed to show it off as much inside the building: lighting it up in there would result in an immediate citation. Fire was unpredictable and dangerous and it spread, but it sure was flashy. “It’s a work in progress. But – I got it under control.” Mostly. Somehow, Dennis had avoided creating some kind of accident, though he’d learned that they were remarkably common among pyrokinetics.

Dennis settled down. He had some time before the bonfire yet. He put his palms on the bench and leaned his weight on them, his sharp knees jutting out in a pair of ninety degree angles. “So…” he said, “what’s your, uh…thing?”

[Michelle Reed]

The look of amazement didn't leave Michelle's eyes until he put out the flames, a tendril of smoke escaping his closed fist. Even then, she was still in awe. For him, it was normal. For her, not so much. "That's the important thing." She shyly smiled at her attempt of a joke. Fire always had the reputation of being uncontrollable, but Michelle always figured it was due to the dangerous outcomes that the flames could create.

She glanced over as he made himself comfortable and asked about her power. Shifting in place, Michelle nervously licked her lower lip with a short laugh. Did he really want to know about her power? "Well.." The brown haired girl trailed off, looking to her lap for a moment. Some people found her ability dangerous, and others found it amusing that someone such as herself ended up with a scary sounding ability. "They call it psionic blasts. It's, uh, weird. I can overload a person's mind." Michelle looked up from her lap, wondering if he'd avoid eye contact like others seemed to do. She found it amusing, sometimes. Most times, she felt awkward. "I don't use it though, besides training." Michelle quickly added, not wanting to leave the impression that she went around doing something like that.

[Dennis Pautler]

Sy-onic? “That sounds like something from space,” he said, then: “Shoot, my mind gets overloaded every day in geometry.”

Dennis was already aware of the fact that she seemed a shy girl. He had encountered them before: people who looked down at their feet or wrung their hands when they spoke. They always had a soft quality to their voice. Some mumbled and were hard to hear. Michelle didn’t slur, but she had the same soft, silvery tones; he didn’t mind it, and he hoped that she didn’t mind him. Dennis was told that he was loud and overbearing and reckless. His grandfather likened him to his King Kutter.

“So, anyway,” Dennis said. “It’s going to get pretty dark in a second. You should sit closer to the fire. I heard there’re be s’mores.”

(sry for taking 4ever ofaejoagh)

[Michelle Reed]

OOC: You're fine love <3

The same shy laugh escaped Michelle's lips as he likened her ability to something from space. There were some days that she thought so herself. Her lips pulled back into a wide smile; a rare sight for a stranger to see. "Geometry can be tricky." She agreed, but preferred it to English and other writing based classes.

She drummed her fingertips on top of her thighs, the discarded strands of yarn still in her lap. Michelle didn't mind the conversation. In fact, it was going better than she initially thought. The Canadian was always quick to assume the worst, that she was annoying and unable to keep a normal conversation going. They were two opposites; quiet and loud, but it didn't seem detrimental.

Her gaze landed on him, nodding when he spoke. "Yeah... yeah, sure, I'd like that." Michelle said, a more subdued smile as her eyes danced around his face. "Don't want to miss the big show." She joked.

It took her a minute to gather her items, putting everything into her backpack except for the finished blue bracelet. "Do you.. uh... want this?" She asked, extending her palm out to him.

[Dennis Pautler]

“Sure don’t. It’s gonna be a big one,” he promised, grinning, giving his fingers an extra pump to make the flames jolt up. “I can tell.”

There was more than one pyrokinetic around, and they were a competitive bunch, always competing over who could spit fire the farthest distance and who could light up the tallest bonfire, much to the chaperones’ dismay. They were going to wonder how he’d managed to beguile someone like Michelle into joining him. He wasn’t sure himself. “Me?” he asked, watching her pick up one of her bracelets. “Oh, it’s blue,” he said, pleased, “I can see blue.”

He turned the bracelet over in his fingers, felt the rough twine. There was something charming about a homemade piece, and he was all about charming - being from the idyllic country, and all. Dennis grinned. “Thanks, I’ll take it.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t have anything to give you, though. I don’t really have any talents,” he added, laughing.

[Michelle Reed]

Her eyes widened as the fire rose to greater heights. Even if that was her ability, Michelle was unsure if she'd ever get use to the heat or the attention the flames received. Since this was her first year at the retreat, she wasn't too sure what to expect during the bonfire. Still, Michelle was excited, if not a little nervous at the thought of being around more people.

She swallowed her fears when she stood up, slinging the strap of her backpack onto one shoulder. "If you like blue, that is." Michelle added quickly. "There.. I do have other colours." She finished with a shy smile.

A barely audible sigh of relief made its way from her lips. Relieved that he appeared to have genuinely liked it, which is why Michelle had offered it in the first place. She brushed the back off her pants off, in case she had sat on anything, shaking her head. "I don't need anything in return." She assured him, hoping that she hadn't given him that impression. That she expected something.

"And I'm sure you're talented at something." Michelle gathered her long strands of hair into a loose ponytail, looking up at the tattooed boy with an earnest smile and waiting to follow his lead.

[Dennis Pautler]

Dennis waved a hand. “Not really,” he said dismissively. He could play some rugby and throw a ball alright, but he didn’t consider those talents. Anyone could do that. Not that he was particularly bothered by it: sometimes he just liked to watch people sketch or braid bracelets and would idly wish he could do the same (without it coming out like a five year old’s scribble). Yes, Dennis was one of those people who would stand over an artistic student and exclaim, loudly, ‘You can draw!’ as if he or she hadn’t known already. Dennis was constantly amazed by everything around him.

He readily assured her that blue was fine. It was one of his favorite colors. Red was another one: red and yellow and orange, the color of fire. Blue was the color of fire, too, though Dennis had yet to produce a flame so hot it turned azure. Maybe some day. Dennis put the bracelet over his wrist and stood up.

He’d be wearing it all week.

“You want to get something to drink before we light up?” he asked. “They have Kool-Aid.”