|
Post by séverin baudelaire on Jan 2, 2013 15:42:14 GMT -5
[atrb=vAlign,top][atrb=border,0,true] [/style][style=font-family: calibri; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; width: 80px]dragons and moons | [atrb=vAlign,top] tagged for sou; It's days like these when Séverin wonders why he ever decided to become an english professor. He's hungry. And tired. And sleepy. And fed up with noisy students. Well, if it makes anything better, it's little Lune he has to lecture today. Just some simple work they could do at home really since the two live together rather comfortably, but Séverin likes to make a point of separating his personal life with his profession; it's only unfortunate that the two seem to collide when Lune is introduced into the mix.
He waits for the crowd of students to scatter, leaving just the two of them left in the nearly empty classroom. With a small sigh, he sifts through his small stack of papers, searching for the one Lune had decidedly written in French instead. Granted, he understands that the boy is French, but really? Thankfully, he's picked up on a touch of French, but he's no professional. Exasperated, he runs a hand through dark locks and holds up the paper with a cocked eyebrow.
"Mr. D'Eclair. You do realize this is an English class, correct?" | | |
|
|
|
Post by Lune d'Eclair on Jan 2, 2013 23:06:53 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px] He hadn't meant to write the whole thing in French, but he couldn't have helped it, at all! He was going to write it in English, all dedicated and determined, but the second he had put the pen to paper, he'd had written the whole thing in French, his mother language. And then, what else could he do? He couldn't spend more of his precious time going on about something else, now could he? Besides, there were superb Pokémon shows on the television, and he couldn't miss those. Besides, he was sure that mister Sèverin would overlook some of his assignments! They were close, weren't they?
So when he's singled out after class, all alone with the scary professor, he completely forgets about being comfortable and becomes all stiff, stuttering and nervous. Pressing his two forefingers together and not meeting the other's eyes, he speaks. "... Oh, I know, mister Sèverin, b-but I thought that ... The context is the same, in whichever language?" He had meant that to sound confident, much like when he'd seen other students say when they'd stuck up for themselves, but the whole thing comes out more as a question.
"... I'll write it over again," Lune declares, sitting down right at the front of the board and not meeting the other's cocked features and scrutinizing eyes, thumping the end of the pencil onto the table, "d-désolé."
[/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #fefefe]
[style=background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]TAG: mister sèverin[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
|
|
|
Post by séverin baudelaire on Jan 3, 2013 0:01:51 GMT -5
[atrb=vAlign,top][atrb=border,0,true] [/style][style=font-family: calibri; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; width: 80px]dragons and moons | [atrb=vAlign,top] tagged for sou; Damn straight, the boy will write it over again! What? Does he look like Google Translate or something? The nerve of this little dove! Appalled and insulted, Séverin simply massages the temples with some exasperation and self-pity before reigning in his destructive temper with frightening control. He even smiles: an expression that would only exist in children's nightmares, but a smile nonetheless. "Does it look like I understand French, boy?"
Clearly irritated, he seizes the boy's pencil and nearly snaps the innocent thing in half between his fingers simply to intimidate more than anything else, but he sets it down onto his desk. "You will re-write your paper properly this time and I expect to have an extremely articulate assignment in my hands tomorrow, Mr. D'Eclair. Do you understand me or shall I write that out in your precious French for you?"
...Maybe he was taking just a tad bit of stress out on the poor little lamb, but hey, the little thing makes a lovely verbal punching bag. | | |
|
|
|
Post by Lune d'Eclair on Jan 3, 2013 0:16:35 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px] Just at the moment his precious pencil had been snatched away from him and almost broken, he stuffs in his knuckles into his mouth so that he wouldn't say anything rash, eyes blown wide with fear and intimidation. If Séverin had been doing all this to scare the student out of his wits, then it was basically working pretty darn well. He looks at the slightly-splintered and slivered pencil and feels its suffering, merely looking down at his teeth marks on his whitened knuckles, and nods.
"Okay," he breathes, voice slightly shaking with every sort of sentimentality he was feeling at the moment, "a very articulate, magnifiq- I-I mean, a very magnificent and superb assignment in your really scary hands by tomorrow at this time, mister Séverin. I promise." Then, as if that's not enough, he loops his pinky with the other's, squeezing slightly for the motion of a promise, before bouncing off of his chair.
Goodness, he was free! A-All he needed to do was to get out, buy hundreds of sweets, then curl up on bed and devour all of them for dinner. Then, he'd feel better. Besides, he was sure that sweets could be a very grand influence to write a well-written essay!
[/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #fefefe]
[style=background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]TAG: mister sèverin[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
|
|
|
Post by séverin baudelaire on Jan 3, 2013 0:40:22 GMT -5
[atrb=vAlign,top][atrb=border,0,true] [/style][style=font-family: calibri; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; width: 80px]dragons and moons | [atrb=vAlign,top] tagged for sou; The boy's clever, Séverin will give him that. Or perhaps the very opposite and he's managed to take advantage of the professor with the sickly sweetness he's completely allergic to. Or at least, so Séverin claims. Goodness, just staring at the boy's pitiful expression was giving him a cavity. And now, he's bouncing away! The impudent little brat. Where does he think he's going? Did Séverin say he could leave? As if. Class is certainly not dismissed.
With tact, he grasps the back of the boy's collar, roughly pulling him back only to expose a word resting on the nape and he freezes, jolting away from him immediately. Did that say - ...No! It couldn't be ... Could it? ...Oh, please. Silently, he murmurs a small mantra over and over again, begging god not to have this boy be fated as his partner. Carefully, he pulls him back, holding him much more gently this time and slowly peeling back his collar to find the matching name engraved in the flesh.
Apparently, god's not in the mood to grant him a wish.
"...H-How long have you had that on the nape of your neck?" | | |
|
|
|
Post by Lune d'Eclair on Jan 3, 2013 4:28:25 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px] He's almost out the door when a hand grasps his collar firmly and pulls him back, body being jerked backwards in reply as he looks upwards. What, had he done something wrong, already? Should he have said good-bye first before dashing away to the exit? Yeah, maybe that was the problem; he hadn't said his goodbyes for the day. Worrying his lower lip with his teeth, he merely stays silent and still as Séverin scrutinizes the back of his neck, wondering if he'd -
Oh. Oh. His team name! Well, that wasn't a problem. He wasn't ashamed - or abashed - of his team name being at the back of his neck! And besides, as long as his scary English teacher of a man wasn't his partner, then everything would be just fine. At this thought, he sobers down a little and stays still, willing his slightly shaking leg to stay absolutely still. It was much like a bee. You don't fight back or move, and the bee wouldn't do you any harm, either!
The inquiry's a bit awkward and toned down, so Lune takes a chance and matches the other's eyes, twisting around in his original position to glance at the professor properly. "I've had it ... Since ... Well, as far back as I can remember, really. Isn't that how things go with these? I know, it's at an embarrassing little place, but I don't mind! My hair and collar usually covers it, anyway." Then, squirming in the other's grasp, he asks.
"What about you, mister?" He's unsuspecting, "do you have one, too?"
[/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #fefefe]
[style=background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]TAG: mister sèverin[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
|
|
|
Post by séverin baudelaire on Jan 3, 2013 15:58:14 GMT -5
[atrb=vAlign,top][atrb=border,0,true] [/style][style=font-family: calibri; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; width: 80px]dragons and moons | [atrb=vAlign,top] tagged for sou; He takes a moment to absorb in this new data. It's almost too much for him to comprehend. Completely oblivious to the boy's squirming, he remains stone still as a statue before finally setting the poor student down onto a nearby desk. Séverin reckons there's nothing he can do about this; it's destiny after all. Is this revenge for knocking over the four-year-old the other day? It's not his fault; the kid was out of his field of vision! Urgh, children these days, honestly. ...Right. Fate. Ah, destiny, thou art a heartless bitch.
Tentatively, he regains the ability to speak. "...Yes, I do," he slowly kneels before the other since the boy's about as tall as his ankle and bows his head almost reverently. With a slight tug at the expensive collar of his shirt, he reveals the matching name clearly evident on the nape of his neck. "We'll have to live together now. And ...you're free to address me by my first name. Séverin."
Finally, he raises his gaze, matching the other's eyes. "...Consider this our first meeting, Lune. And just because I'm yours does not mean you are excused from this essay, do you understand me?" | | |
|
|
|
Post by Lune d'Eclair on Jan 3, 2013 21:29:32 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px] He's a bit thrown off-course when he realizes that his own English professor had basically knelt down to him, showing him the nape of his neck; and honestly, because of all the luscious, pretty dark locks covering his pallid backside, he hadn't seen anything the first time around. "Wh-What's the matter now? Are you sick? I didn't mean to make you ill! I promise. Do you need a nurse?" He's half proud of himself that he didn't spew out a French word whilst his rambling, but he soon rakes his red oculars all over the other, hands reaching to press against his hair and cheekbones, before he realizes the name.
... oh. Oops.
He completely freezes, hands not really removing themselves from the other's cheek, before they just fall off in fear. He was going to be paired up with this beast of a man for ... forever!? How was he even going to manage life in this course? Trying to calm his beat-end heart, he merely nods shakily and doesn't meet the other's firm gaze, instead looking at everywhere else. "Mmhmm. I-I'll write the essay, mister Séverin. A-and you're not mine," he says, "you're yours. You belong to yourself. I might be your trainer, but that doesn't mean I'm going to just take you, or anything. I haven't proved myself in English ... So that means I'll have to prove myself in training, right?"
Finished with a shaky smile. This first meeting was going just grand. [/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #fefefe]
[style=background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]TAG: mister sèverin[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
|
|
|
Post by séverin baudelaire on Jan 4, 2013 14:54:43 GMT -5
[atrb=vAlign,top][atrb=border,0,true] [/style][style=font-family: calibri; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; width: 80px]dragons and moons | [atrb=vAlign,top] tagged for sou; Séverin freezes against the soft hands against his cheek, but he loses the tension in his broad shoulders as he leans tentatively into the soft palm. His own hands grip the other's slender wrists gently as he turns the hand over to the press his lips to the back of it. Soundlessly, he peppers the unmarred flesh with kisses and nips a finger almost curiously: his need to mark his territory slowly taking over. He raises his gaze finally to glance at the boy who looks as if he's about to faint at any given moment. The little thing's a cute sheep really and Séverin always does enjoy startling the poor boy. "I'm yours," he repeats, murmuring softly against the flesh of the hand, "And you're mine."
Finally, he releases the little mouse, "Shall I tell you what sort of creature I am? The monster that lives inside of my mind?" He grins almost cruelly, obviously enjoying this just a little too much. How is this little one possibly going to bear pain when Séverin is convinced the boy's arms will break from trying to carry an entire newspaper? And honestly, the Axew isn't so bad at all. He just likes to cuddle time to time and set marshmallows on fire when he can along with marking his territory in his moments to spare, but all good stories deserve a little embellishment.
He leans in towards the other's ear as he traps the other with his hands on either side of him. His teeth graze against the soft flesh of the earlobe as his warm lips whisper, "A dragon lives inside of me."
"Do you think you can handle a big, scary dragon?"
| | |
|
|
|
Post by Lune d'Eclair on Jan 5, 2013 5:38:12 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px] His red, crimson oculars are almost as wide as dinner plates when his gijinka goes and presses kisses against the back of his hand, before he completely rests his wobbling legs onto the chair, face becoming a similar hue as his eyes. He doesn't understand why his English professor, usually crude and snappish, is being so formal with him. He would have thought that Séverin leave him in the room, striding out of the classroom like he'd heard nothing. But instead, there he was, kneeling and everything, and pressing soft kisses on the back of his hand. "O-Okay," Lune answers, voice slightly shaking, "okay. I'm yours, I understand. And you're mine. I can understand this. It's more like mathematics!" His eyes brighten up at this, sounding a bit more happier that it's about math - than English. Oops.
He wants to say 'no' to the offer, but his English professor - no, his gijinka, his partner - starts talking, anyway, and he freezes slightly at the mention of his dragon. What. Shivering, he shakes his head sharply, but he's a step too late as he's already pinned against the other's muscular frame, leaning as far as he can as he chews on his lips, worrying the redness even more. "Uhm, I-I don't need to hear it. Honest, I'm okay. I'm sure you're a nice dragon, mister-" but he ends up listening anyway, throat tight and swallowing thickly.
"... N-No, but you'll be with me, right, mister?" Well, of course. Sit tight, little sheep. [/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #fefefe]
[style=background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]TAG: mister sèverin[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
|
|
|
Post by séverin baudelaire on Jan 5, 2013 22:03:31 GMT -5
[atrb=vAlign,top][atrb=border,0,true] [/style][style=font-family: calibri; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; width: 80px]dragons and moons | [atrb=vAlign,top] tagged for sou; Being the cruel, cold-hearted soul he is, Séverin takes immense pleasure seeing the boy's flustered face and stammering voice. He wants to see how far he can bend little Lune and see just how much he can handle until he just snaps. He may have been a difficult english professor, but he's an even more difficult person. Still, there's something inside of him that wants himself to be kind. There's a small string of guilt tugging at his mind as he sighs softly, running a hand through his dark hair.
He settles beside the boy and rests his head on his arms, looking up at him in an almost docile manner: a practically ninety degree personality switch. His gaze softens and he gently headbutts the other's shoulder, silently urging him to pet him. "I'm not a nice dragon at all. I'm cold and selfish and ...supposedly heartless," he whispers, slipping his cheek underneath the other's palm. "Oh, what do you know? You're just a frightened little boy."
"...If you must know, I happen to be a Haxorus. ...Almost. C-Close enough."
| | |
|
|
|
Post by Lune d'Eclair on Jan 6, 2013 2:00:29 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px] "That's not true. That's what all the other people say, isn't it? That's not as important as knowing who you are, yourself." Lune doesn't mind the other placing his cheek under his hand; honestly, he feels like a small trainer, trying to befriend a huge, scary dragon. His smile begins to grow back, a sweet upturning of his mouth, whilst he pats the smooth cheek without a care in the world. "Say, mister, you're not that bad when you're all nice and docile! D-Do you have to be so scary in class? Can't you let me go sometimes?" He's trying his hand at just joking, small hands still patting away at the other's face, as he leans down to stare into the other's eyes, for the first time since he'd had this done.
"I might be a frightened little boy, but with a nice H- ... Axew like you, I'm sure I'll just be fine!" Then, leaning down, he kisses the other's locks softly, pressing his soft lips against those dark strands. [/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #fefefe]
[style=background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]TAG: mister sèverin[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
|
|
|
Post by séverin baudelaire on Jan 7, 2013 0:23:32 GMT -5
[atrb=vAlign,top][atrb=border,0,true] [/style][style=font-family: calibri; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; width: 80px]dragons and moons | [atrb=vAlign,top] tagged for sou; Even heartless Séverin has to admit that the boy is helplessly adorable. All the things he's done to torment him and the boy still showers him with affection even though they barely know each other. Maybe he is just a tiny puppy starved of affection on the inside. With a small whine, he leans into the soft kisses, looking up at him with his golden gaze, studying the boy's pink lips silently as he admires the snowy eyelashes and delicate fingers. Content, he sighs, "If I let every student escape their english assignment, I wouldn't be doing my job, now would I, Mr. D'Eclair?"
"Also, I'm not an Axew. I'm a Haxorus," he stubbornly insists, teeth snarling, but he quickly resigns to those kisses as he tugs sheepishly on the collar of the other's shirt as if asking him to pet him again. "F-Feels nice."
| | |
|
|
|
Post by Lune d'Eclair on Jan 7, 2013 2:25:06 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0px,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][style=float: left; width: 250px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; padding: 5px] ... Aw. It was still worth a try, though! Lune merely keeps on smiling, pink lips split in a sweet show, as he presses his hands against the other's cheeks once more. Honestly, he'd like to comb through the other's hair instead, but mister Séverin seems very happy with being there at the moment, being petted like a pet hamster, so the good student decides to allow more caresses here and there, unable to stop smiling.
"I suppose not, mister, but it'd be nice. Everyone's so scared of you, you know! You should offer them a smile and some cuddles, like this - maybe they'd do their work with more effort than they give now! - n-not like they don't, b-but ..." he pouts, this time, pallid digits tapping against cheekbones and eyelids, before trailing to the soft locks once more, combing through with a content, beaming smile, "well, mister, aren't you a little Purrloin!" [/style] [style=margin-top: 6px; width: 100px; height:100px; float:right; font-size: 7pt; font-family: calibri; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; border: 5px solid #fefefe]
[style=background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]TAG: mister sèverin[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px] WORDS[/style] [style=margin-top: 5px; background-color: #dfdfdf; padding: 2px]© MOO OF OTE[/style][/style] |
|
|
|
Post by séverin baudelaire on Jan 7, 2013 22:16:18 GMT -5
[atrb=vAlign,top][atrb=border,0,true] [/style][style=font-family: calibri; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; width: 80px]dragons and moons | [atrb=vAlign,top] tagged for sou; Seemingly in heaven, Séverin closes his eyes, simply leaning his head towards the boy, nuzzling affectionately. He could get used to this! Forget battling, Sév just wants to be loved and adored twenty four seven. He even goes as far as to mewl softly, nipping at the tiny hands that comb through his silky hair. ...That is, until he hears the comment about being a Purrloin.
The professor's eyes snap open as he suddenly pulls away, looming over the boy with a wicked snarl as he suddenly pins the boy to the desk. "I. am. not. a. Purrloin." Séverin's golden eyes burn into Lune's gaze, obviously offended he was even compared to the feral feline. "I'll do what I want. Don't you preach to me how I should teach and how I shouldn't."
| | |
|
|