People are friends, not food (M.A.K.O)

[Carter Roth]

Hallways. The natural habitat of high school-going teenagers. You had the jocks, whom herded together like zebras -albeit loud, annoying zebras, the "popular" girls who were more like lionesses the way they grouped together and looked for the one zebra that wondered too far from its herd; you had the "not really popular but kinda?" kids that tried to get in with the zebras like oxpecker birds and then last but not least: you had the wildebeest. The ones who didn't really fit into one particular group for one reason or another, ending up forming their own little bands to make up the most populous species that inhabited the bane of most every person's existence from the ages of roughly thirteen to eighteen.

Carter was one such wildebeest, standing out a little bit only thanks to her blue hair, of which she was almost positive she was the only one in the school to sport. Other than that she was rather average, though she managed to be loud and sound mean enough to get the people clogging up the already crowded hallways every once in a while with the always eloquent, "move, bitch!" Though that was only when she was in a particularly nasty mood or just annoyed enough. Today she wasn't yelling at anyone, it being too early to do anything other than drool over daydreams of coffee and try not to look like a zombie.

She had her earbuds in right now, blocking out the rest of the world as she weaved in and out of students, nose buried in a book as most always. She was a bookworm, through and through. She readily admitted it and saw it as a point of pride. She didn't understand why people didn't like to read, considered it more weird than not. Stories to her were more than just ink on paper or words on a screen, they were conduits, in a way. Capable of transporting you from the normal, mundane world into something completely different. In the hands of the right author, even the most everyday things could become something more. At least, that's what she thought. The general public didn't exactly share her thoughts but that was okay, to each their own right? She'd just privately judge them in her head.

Balanced on the textbooks and notebooks and things needed for her second period, sat an open book, one arm cradling the textbooks while the other held her reading book open. It was small but thick, totaling a whopping eight hundred and twenty pages and forty-nine chapters. It was the first book in a series called the Sword of Truth, Carter starting to read it because one of her fellow book addicts and close friends raved about and kept nagging her to get it. She finally gave in, borrowing his copy and starting it. That is, after she promised, on pain of death of course, to keep the book in the best possible condition. That means she kept it far away from drinks, food, and whatever could be considered harmful. She knew how protective she was of her favorite books and she didn't want to risk her friend's wrath.

...They slipped quietly out of the trees and onto the ledges. The path wasn't always clearly marked, and there were many false trails. She often had to turn to him, and he directed her with a nod of his head. Richard wondered what his name was but the fear of the four men kept him from talking. Even-- She ran into something head on. A hard something. A chest to be exact, a chest owned by a very large person. Her books went flying, landing in scattered mess around them while pages of math and biology homework and history notes slowly started to drift towards the ground. Her apology caught in her throat when she looked up and realized that she barely came up to the person's chest. She craned her neck, looking up and up and up, staring wide eyed. She gulped a little. The giant she ran into had gills. And...were those sharp teeth?! Oh shi-... And she didn't even know where her book went.

[M.A.K.O]

“He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”

No one ever thinks about how a monster feels in a crowd. It's only natural, in fact if someone did think about that, they would be quite the oddity. What if, the whole world knowing, Dracula had to walk amongst the living? Or the Wolfman? Always under the disgusted eye of the people who saw them, always fearing a stake to the heart, or a silver bullet in the back. M.A.K.O knew people were staring. He couldn't even see and he still felt their gazes, burning a hole in the back, and sometimes front of his head.

After all he did cut the figure of a monster. He stood just over seven feet, his body unnaturally muscled and skin pale as a ghost. What normal kid, even among gifted, had teeth like daggers, eyes like amethyst and gills like...well a fish? But what stood out the most was the scars. He had dressed to cover them as best he could, wearing a large hoodie, as big as he could find, but it was more or less impossible to cover them all. They criss-crossed his skin everywhere, his neck, his face, his hands, thin pure white lines like web marking him all over. It was these that most usually drew peoples eye, and the gills and teeth which kept them. 

As always, M.A.K.O convinced himself that he didn't care, and rather than hurt, he let anger and annoyance build inside him as he tried to make his way to a class. Usually he didn't bother. The looks, sometimes the screams...they just weren't worth it. But today the fishing by the beach was scarce, and he would need to be seen in class if he wanted to have some kind of lunch in the cafeteria without dealing with the prefects. So, keeping his head down, he maneuvered between bodies and kept moving forward. Eventually though, it got to him. It always did. 

He could hear the whispers behind him. All around him for much, much further than your average human; but then again, he wasn't average. This meant that he heard the gossip, the disgusted talk, the cutting words long after the cheerleader had passed him or the jock had bumped, unsuccessfully, into his chest as he attempted the "alpha male" act. And slowly his eyes slipped shut, though he continued to maneuver oddly as if he could see just fine. His hands slowly closed into fists tighter and tighter, his fingernails pressing painfully against his skin.  

To top it all off, as his anger peaked, a wad of paper hit him in the back of his head, the shout of a girl behind him ringing in his ears: "FREAK!" He snarled, low and menacing like an animal, and was just about to turn and fuck somebody's day up when he felt a light thud hit his chest. He blinked, surprise wiping the snarl from his face for a moment and looked down at the figure. She was a girl, he could tell that much, and quite small by the look of it. But his eyes soon narrowed. He could hear her heartbeat speed up as she looked at him, feel the heat drain from her face as the blood was drawn inwards in response to fear. She was just the same. Just like everyone else. He snarled again, looking down at her and baring his teeth, his light violet eyes locking onto her for a moment. If one were to look close enough, they would see what looked like pain there, as even a monster can not hide his inner self entirely. They would also see corneas, cut, scarred and slightly cloudy; irises that looked just as damaged, ripped and torn in some places. No doubt the most horrible feature he possessed. He shoved past the girl, growling. 

"Get outta my way."

[Carter Roth]

Carter loved monsters. They were some of her favorite things. Of course, she didn’t spend much time thinking about monsters in the flesh, that they could be walking right in front of her. Monsters lived mostly in the realms of fantasy and science fiction and cinema and novels. Not in the real world. Wolfmen didn’t live in the forests surrounding the school, sirens and mermaids didn’t swim in the waters around the island. At least, she didn’t think that they did. Though in Ashford Academy, anything was possible. Who’s to say there wasn’t a vampire stalking the night or a zombie hiding behind that tree over there? Granted, Carter did have a favorite type of monster. The anti-hero. Monsters and villains can still be anti-heroes, after all. Who wanted a goody two shoes when they could have the complicated, dark, and somewhat scary bad guy who really wasn’t that bad once you got to know him?

She gulped as she took in the rather...large student in front of her that she had the misfortune of running into, taking note of the white hair, the hugeness, and the scars that she thought she could see. She did a double take at the gills and teeth, she would admit that. Who wouldn't? After her face drained of all blood from shock and okay, maybe a little fear, it all rushing back in a flood of embarrassment. Leave it to her one the one day -out of many- that she read and walked, she would run into the behemoth in front of her. She started to stammer out an apology, as the collision was clearly her fault, and began to move finally to collect her things. That was short lived though, as he growled and shoved past her. She just blinked for a moment, sitting there on the floor, before she took hold of all the books she could and began to march after him. She hadn't gotten that good of a look at his face, let alone his eyes, with her being on the ground and what not. Son of a...who does he think he is? I said I was sorry!

"Hey! What's your problem?!" She snapped as she caught up to him, not being able to help it and resisting the urge to call him unkind things. It wouldn't help the situation she figured, and she didn't like to think of herself as the name calling sort. Unless the person deserved it. Though he had pissed her off, he didn't deserve to be called a colorful name. She couldn't stop herself from reaching out to try and grab his shoulder, as big as he was compared to her. If it worked, she would hopefully spin him around thanks to catching him off guard, she hoped, and could confront him about his sad lack of manners face to face, like normal people. As normal as they could be in a superpowered high school, that is. She hadn't heard any of the gossip surrounding him, or the name calling, and if she had her reaction would have probably been very different. Hell, her anger would have probably been directed at the ones who had been gossiping and name calling rather than him. He didn't do anything wrong, now did he? He just happened to have sharp teeth and gills, so what?  She would rather deal with him than half of the people in the school right now anyways.

[M.A.K.O]

M.A.K.O stopped, dead still, when he felt the air shift, and a moment later there was a hand on his shoulder, trying in vain to turn him around. He went rigid at the touch, equal amounts shocked that someone had touched him and angry that this girl, whoever she was, took it upon herself to do that. As much as he tried not to think about it, he didn't get touched very often. By anyone. Human contact was something he had grown quite alienated from. And why not? He was a monster. A shark on land. Who in their right mind *would* touch him? At the sound of the girl's voice, demanding what his problem was, his fists tightened. His problem? His problem was everything. The world, the people in it and their hateful glares, their whispers and screams, their fear. Before he could stop himself he spun around and glared at her, snarling down again, this time more feral than before, his formerly purple eyes starting to turn an interesting shade of purple-red.

"My problem? My problem at the moment is people who get in my way. Why don't you hurry off to class like a good little prisoner and leave me alone? Or do you have something to say?" He growled a little, his fists clenching tighter. "You all do. What is it this time, huh? Fish boy? Mosnter? Freak?" He spit the last word and stared over her shoulder at the retreating back of the girl who had called him that. "Yeah that's right, run!!" He yelled after her, causing her to pause and look over her shoulder, a smirk playing at her lips as the group of friends around her stopped as well, giving her confidence. "Run? Ha. I'm just wondering how someone managed to put that much ugly in one place? What were your parents, ogres?" Her friends laughed and jostled her at the remark, M.A.K.O's hands growing tighter, his attention completely stolen away from the blue haired girl at his chest.

M.A.K.O didn't even remember his parents. He remembered...brief flashes. A house by the beach, laughter, maybe a smile, but that was all his mind could summon. After that it was nothing but white. White, and cold water, and pain...so much pain, over and over. He felt himself spiral down into the memories, his head falling a bit and his shoulders sagging as they laughed. After a moment in silence, he tugged the hood down lower on his head and turned on a dime, getting ready to leave. He was gonna head back to the beach. Fuck food, this just wasn't worth it.

[Carter Roth]

Now, Carter wasn’t one to back down from a fight, but that snarl of his was a doozy. She held her ground though, refusing to take a step back as he spun on her and bared his teeth at her. She had noticed his eyes changing as it happened, the amethystine color bleeding red in moments. That, combined with the fact that he had stiff as a board when she touched him threw up all sorts of questions in her mind, but those questions would have to wait. Her anger pretty much had the forefront of her mind right now, and she would ponder things like “what exactly was he?” and “did she honestly just meet a shark?” later. She gave a growl of her own at him, not nearly as terrifying because she didn’t have the feral thing going for her, but she was proud of it nonetheless. “Alright, listen here you li-....” She went quiet as she saw him look over her shoulder after spitting the word “freak” at her.

Carter’s hackles instantly raised as the girl spoke and she spun on her heel, her anger now redirected at the bitch and her gaggle of friends. “You.” She growled, eyes narrowing on the blonde girl a little ways away. She was simply in no mood, and Little Miss Bubblegum Pop over there wasn’t helping matters.  “Who gave you permission to speak? And really, you can’t come up with better insults than calling someone ugly? I'm insulted you think that counts as a good insult. Do me a favor and let the grown ups speak, got it?" She said matter of factly, her tone brooking no arguments as electricity began to crackle around her hands. Oh yes, the storm manipulator was rather pissed off. One, at the fact that someone dared to try and insult the person she was already having an argument with. Two, at the fact that someone would deal such a low blow and the fact that her little band of buddies over there were giggling at it like it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.

She didn't notice that M.A.K.O was already walking away from her, her focus now on the group in front of her. She had rather strong protective instincts, and for whatever reason they had been triggered. Badly. She managed to give the Evil Eye to just about all of them, though she mostly glared at the moron who spoke to him in the first place. All she had wanted to do was read today, and now she had potentially gotten into a fight and she still didn't know where her book went.