Silver is the New Black (Arthur)

[Natalie Zhao]

It was an early Saturday morning when the prefect first decided to explore the school, and, thankfully, that day was one of the quietest (and therefore also one of the best) times of the week. The clicking of her flats against the ground resonated through the empty halls, but the girl was far from bothered by the silence. Unlike most other students, she was an early bird and she was used to the quietness. The silver-haired prefect rounded a corner and slowed to a stop in front of a large, dark room. Without hesitating, she reached her hand inside to feel along the wall for a switch. Once she found it, the lights in the gymnasium flickered on, illuminating the space crowded with various equipment. Her eyes widened in wonder, looking around at everything that the room had to offer. It did have a musky smell that made her nose wrinkle, but that was something she could easily look past. She'd never imagined that the place had such an extensive gymnasium, not to mention it also had a pool. Not that she liked swimming, but those things were expensive and she had never dreamed of being in such close proximity to one. It took only a few moments before the prefect became overwhelmed with everything around her, unsure how to react to the sheer expensiveness of the place. When she had been training with the Ashford Project outside of the school, they'd offered her things such as punching bags and training dummies at her request, but seeing everything put in one place was shocking. After all, the way she'd originally learned to fight was in an alley where 'friendly sparring' meant 'punch one another until one of you gets knocked out'.

Hesitantly, Natalie made her way in to the gym and laid her rucksack next to one of the punching bags, pausing directly in front of it. She delicately ran her hand along the tough surface, admiring the quality of it, before she took a step back to distance herself appropriately. After a few moments of hesitation, the daintiness of the girl vanished entirely as she slammed her fists repeatedly into the bag. Or well, that's what it looked like. Really, she was keeping a small space of pressure between her fist and the bag so that she didn't cut her hands or bleed. Her form, though, was far from conventional, although it wasn't completely stray from common martial arts techniques. She'd learned the basics on the street, after all, but she had been working hard over the past year to develop her skills with the aid of the Ashford researchers. It didn't show too much, but the prefect was putting in a lot of effort to try and change her habits so she could maximize her power exerted.

It seemed as if she would never stop. Her face grew progressively more red, but her movements didn't lose their fluidity nor did her breathing rate seem to increase. Minutes passed before she began to show other signs of fatigue, and when she did, she slowed her movements to a stop and began to breathe a little more heavily, rubbing her bare arms. Subconsciously, Natalie turned down her body temperature a little so she wouldn't feel overheated before taking a step away from the punching bag. She brushed her silver hair out of her eyes and rummaged around her backpack to pull out a bottle of water, taking a gulp or two from it before returning her gaze to the punching bag as it swung back and forth on the chain. She gave a small sigh, before picking up her rucksack and moving it to the side: something she should've done earlier. However, she stopped as soon as she noticed the oddly-placed mats in the middle of the gym. She wasn't really sure what they were for, unless Ashford had a yoga club she didn't know about.

That's when Natalie heard the door open, cutting through the silence that had taken over the gymnasium. Her blue eyes shot upwards to find a white-haired boy standing at the entrance with an air of professionalism that surprised the girl. Feeling a little awkward, the girl bit her lip and offered the boy a wave. "Hello," she said carefully, straightening her back to appear more formal. Now, in contrast to earlier, she regretted not wearing her uniform: wearing a tank-top and a pair of shorts (even though it was the gym) felt unorthodox when she was around other people. "Uh, I mean, good morning," she tried again, trying to make it a little less uncomfortable for her. It had surprised her a little, though, that someone else was around at such an early hour. She'd thought that she'd been one of the only ones who'd do such a thing at a school full of teenagers, so she was unprepared.

[Arthur Bishop]

Without a sound, Arthur slipped out of bed in the early hours of Saturday morning. He bustled about his dorm with quiet steps as he dressed for the day and gathered his things for the gym. Every few moments he would pause and glance over at his roommate who was still sound asleep in his own bed. Devlin never got enough sleep, and disturbing him was the last thing Arthur wanted to do. Pulling his packed gym bag over his shoulder, the prefect spared his friend one final look of concern. The enormous boy was buried under his blankets with his knees drawn up high against his chest. There was no other way to fit all of him on the average-human sized bed, but the steady rise and fall of the blankets convinced Arthur that his friend would be okay in his absence. Running a hand through his hair, Arthur slipped out the door and closed it behind him with a quiet click.

As expected, the corridors were deserted at such an early hour. He imagined his fellow prefects would be wrapping up their night shifts and exchanging with those in charge of the morning patrol. Arthur, however, had other plans for the morning. He walked without hurry in the direction of the gym, savouring the quiet peace of the morning as he went. Thin, early morning light streamed in from the windows that lined the hall and shadows yawned across the prefect’s path. With slow breaths a steady steps Arthur made his way to the gym. But then, as he reached out a hand to open the door, an unexpected sound forced him to freeze. The muffled slap of skin against padding could be heard through the heavy door and a slight frown pulled at Arthur’s lips. He could think of no one who would be in the gym so early on a Saturday.

Peering through the narrow window that was set in the door, he spotted an unfamiliar girl. She swung at a punching bag with rhythmic movements. Each blow sent the bag swinging wildly on its chain and proclaimed the girl's power. But Arthur was not watching the bag. His eyes were on her feet and their atrocious scrambling. The silver-haired girl had no sense of stance, and though her strikes were powerful they did not make the most of her energy. Soon enough she stepped away from the bag, panting with effort and brushing away the hair that clung to her face with sweat. No longer at risk of interrupting her routine, Arthur stepped into the gym.

The girl’s head swiveled in his direction. She seemed surprised to see him there, and he had to admit the feeling was mutual. Maintaining an expression of polite indifference, Arthur nodded in acknowledgement of the girl’s greeting before making his way to one side of the room and dropping his bag. The prefect felt more self-conscious than he was willing to admit under the girl’s watchful eye. He turned his back to her as he knelt in front of his bag, double checking all of his medications and hoping that she wouldn’t notice or comment on them. Once he felt satisfied that he had everything he needed, he grabbed his water bottle and stood only to find the girl still watching him.

“Good morning,” he blinked, running a hand through his hair. Perhaps he had something on his face? He passed his hand over it once just to be sure, but the girl still watched him. “Err, I don’t believe we’ve met before? I’m Arthur Bishop. I’m a prefect here. And you are?” the silver-haired prefect extended his hand to the girl. He offered her one of his polite almost-smiles, the kind that always seemed a little too well-rehearsed to be genuine. “I beg your pardon, and perhaps it’s not my place, but I happened to notice that your footing was a bit uncertain while you were practising. May I offer you a piece of advice?” he changed the topic as his expression flattened back into one of vague boredom. Business as usual.

[Natalie Zhao]

The young adult found herself getting increasingly more curious the longer she thought about the boy who was standing in front of her. She was mainly interested in his silver hair, possibly because it was strongly reminiscent of her own. However, he didn't seem like he'd be the type of person to go out and buy hair bleach every month or two. Perhaps it was a mutation? She'd heard of such things in super-powered students, specifically ones that caused hair and eye discolouration. It was something she hadn't seen firsthand before, though, and she wondered what about his powers might've changed the boy's hair colour. It was obviously still possible that he'd dyed it, though, and she thought to her own bleached hair. She still viewed herself as relatively professional and her white hair wasn't there just to 'look cool', so it was ridiculous to automatically assume that this boy couldn't have dyed his hair just because he's too mature-looking for that. Natalie grimaced.

When the boy bent over to scrummage around in his bag, Natalie's gaze didn't falter. She felt almost bad for simply watching, but her curiosity was overwhelming. She thought it might be likely that they'd start seeing each other relatively often, anyways, as they both seemed to be two of the few early risers on the island. Might as well get to know who he was. She wasn't quite sure what he was looking for, as she couldn't see into the bag from the angle she was at. Though, she did not care much. It probably just had water, towels, and maybe even some books. Those were the only things that made sense. You're just assuming that people are like you, Natalie. You know better. She chastised herself gently, slowly shaking the thoughts from her head. He could very well have a family of squirrels in there and it wouldn't matter whether Natalie thought that made sense or not.

Thankfully, the other boy spoke and stopped her ridiculous thoughts in their tracks. His voice was oddly relaxing and, for some reason, it resembled what Natalie imagined an older brother speaking encouragingly to her would sound like. Not that she'd ever had an older brother, but if she did, that's the voice she would want him to have. "Good to mee'you, Mr. Bishop," she spoke intuitively, barely realizing the words that flowed out of her mouth before she said them. She was getting used to introductions such as these, as it was something she had forced herself to grow used to when trying to relearn Western culture. Regardless of that, she couldn't help but struggle with his name, as it was one she'd never heard of before, and her accent remained strong.

She took his offered hand and shook it gently, speaking while she did so. "My name is Natalie Zhao. I also a prefect." She smiled kindly, instinctively bowing her head and shoulders slightly to show her respect. The moment after she did so, her body tensed a little and she gritted her teeth. He's not Chinese,白痴. Natalie glanced downwards with a frown, mentally punishing herself for her habits. She was looking forward to finding another mandarin-speaking individual on the island so that she wouldn't have to worry about introducing herself properly. But, until that day, she'd have to stop the bowing thing.

Natalie was snapped back to reality the moment Arthur offered her help. Her eyes flickered back to him, and her face reddened. Regardless of whether or not he used kind words to say it, it injured her pride to hear that even other people could tell how inexperienced she was. Sure, she enjoyed learning and loved it when people offered to help, but, her unnaturally low level of general knowledge was still something she tried to tiptoe around. She was aware that she knew so little, but it fucking hurt to actually hear someone point it out out-loud. She had hoped that her fighting skills were sufficient, and being told that they were far from it (to the point that they were so bad that even a stranger would tell her about it) was a bit crushing. Suddenly, Natalie snapped to her senses. She realized how painfully obvious her emotions must've been with her frown, red face, and slouched back and she decided that that was not at all acceptable in any situation - especially not with a fellow prefect. She shoved the thoughts away and forced her expression to become neutral again, straightening up her posture and returning Arthur's bored gaze with one of determination.

"Yes, o'course," she responded finally, her voice and attitude no longer giving off any indicator of her previous concerns. "Wha' do you think will help?" The girl watched Arthur carefully, trying to hold back her accent the best she could. Unfortunately, that wasn't exactly something that she was the best at controlling, and it was more than likely that the other prefect already knew where she'd lived for a lot of her life.

[Arthur Bishop]

Arthur did his best to appear unfazed by the girl’s scrutiny. He returned her curious glances with an expression of polite indifference and drew no attention to the self-consciousness that prickled up the back of his neck. The girl shook his hand with a slight bow and he couldn’t help but notice her accent. Without putting much thought into it, Arthur bent his head and shoulders forward to return the gesture. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Zhao,” he responded with little emotion, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of interest.

Although the girl didn't look the least bit Asian, her accent and mannerisms were undeniably Chinese. When the girl mentioned being a perfect as well, Arthur could no longer hide his curiosity. The prefect tilted his head to one side as he studied the girl before him. She had clear blue eyes, a petite frame, and shocking white hair that resembled his own. Her small face ended in a soft chin and her cheeks flushed pink when he mentioned her footing. Arthur’s own face paled a bit in response. He hadn’t meant to offend her, but by the dejected glint in her eye he could tell that she was upset. Even so, Natalie pulled herself together and forced her gaze to meet his with a stubborn look of determination.

“I think I offended you, and for that I do apologise, Miss Zhao,” said Arthur. “That was not my intent, I can assure you.” His voice drawled with slow, thick words. With little inflection it was difficult to tell that his words were sincere, and the cardboard blankness of his face was less-than reassuring. Even so, the silver-haired prefect couldn’t help but admire the girl’s determination. Any sign of hurt had been wiped from her features and she watched him with resolve. “Your strikes were powerful, but your footing was scattered and disorganised. It leaves you unbalanced, open, and does not make the most of your energy when you fail to take stance into account,” he explained. “Allow me to demonstrate.”

Arthur positioned himself in front of the punching bag and sank into a solid stance. Drawing a deep breath, he moved through a combination using fluid, deliberate strikes. After each blow he dropped back into the original stance to exaggerate its importance. He finished and straightened himself before turning back to the girl. “Of course, when you’re fighting a stationary opponent that’s all very well. In the field your opponent will not stand still and wait for you to attack. Movement becomes a vital aspect of the fight, and you’ll want to maximise the efficiency of your energy. That’s where footwork comes in, and you can’t begin to learn footwork until you’ve mastered your stances,” he told her.

Pausing, Arthur dropped his gaze to the side and pushed a hand through his hair. “I,” he cleared his throat and started again, “if you’d be interested, I can teach you the basics?” The statement came out as a question without Arthur’s permission. He chastised himself internally for the subtle uncertainty of the question. It was unusual for the passive prefect to feel unsettled, but he wanted to impress the girl. As for why he wanted to impress this stranger, he wasn’t sure. She intrigued him in a way few people could, and he almost hoped she wouldn’t accept his offer. The prefect was pushing himself out of his comfort zone. Straightening his shoulders, Arthur forced himself to stand up tall and look the girl in the eye. Whatever her decision was, he would handle it with acquiescent grace.

[Natalie Zhao]

He bowed. Alarms of confusion were blaring in her mind as Natalie watched the other boy, astounded. She'd never received that response before: it was more common that other individuals would give her a frown in response to her Asian way of greeting people. She stared at him while she ran the past few moments through her mind. It calmed her to know that she had not been mistaken when she assumed that he wasn't Chinese, as his accent was British. This was unmistakable: she'd heard it many times from tourists at the shop she had been working at, and it was quite clear to her that Arthur was, at the very least, native to Europe. This meant that this boy either had had a lot of experience with Asian people, or he was just mimicking her movements in an attempt to be polite. Natalie relaxed with this realization, but she still watched him with careful eyes. The boy was more intriguing than she'd first presumed.

Although Natalie was observant, she often doubted her own abilities when analyzing other individuals' expressions. So, the prefect wasn't confident that she was correct when she assumed that the boy's tilted head indicated curiosity. She didn't have long to think about it, though, before his face whitened and returned to its original blank professionalism. As he spoke, her previously scrutinizing gaze relaxed and she leaned back on her heels. Although to most his apology might come off as insincere, Natalie took his lack of extreme tonal changes as a much more mature way of treating the situation. Although her pride was a little dented, the girl released some of the tension in her muscles as her irritation faded. "It is OK," she murmured. She was making an effort to keep her voice stable and monotone, similar to his, as she felt it was more likely that he'd respect her that way.

As Arthur navigated towards a punching bag and instructed her to watch, Natalie regarded his leg's movements with mild interest. He had paused for a few seconds in front of the bag to drop into a stance, which Natalie worked to memorize. His knees were bent, ready to make sudden movements, but at the same time he seemed solid with his feet spaced out about a shoulder's width away from one another. Balanced, but explosive: those were both important things to maintain during a battle. Arthur seemed to agree, as he reinforced the importance of the stance by returning to it after each time that he lunged forward. When he was finished, Natalie felt as if  he almost earned a round of applause but she refrained from commenting.

Natalie was lucky that Arthur offered her a demonstration. She had understood very little of what he had said about her stance, although slow method of speech did aid a little in her comprehension. Once he was done demonstrating, Natalie already had a slight idea of what he might say, so with the help of context clues she managed to gather the gist of what he was saying. In essence, it was a suggestion to start with the basics of stances, then build her way up to being able to manoeuvre around the battlefield more efficiently. "It makes sense," she breathed, more to herself than to Arthur. It was good advice, but learning those stances in the first place was the hard part. Well, that is if she didn't have a teacher.

When Arthur offered to help, Natalie was beyond ecstatic. She tried to keep her face relaxed and blank in an attempt to mimic Arthur's, but this composure was betrayed by a flicker of interest in her eyes. Natalie loved to learn more about everything so she could perform better, especially since her lack of formal education tended to hold her back. Maybe next time she was practicing, people wouldn't be able to walk in and ridicule her because she'd be so much better. This meant that Arthur's offer wasn't just tempting: it was irresistible. "Thank you, I will really like that," she responded with an excited nod of her head. "May I try?"

When Arthur had given an affirmative reply, Natalie made her way over to the boy and paused in front of the punching bag. Her eyes flickered over to him and regarded him with curiosity, trying to read his emotions although it was to no avail. With a quick shake of her head, she returned her gaze to the punching bag and narrowed her eyes. Trying to mimic his stance, she spread her feet apart and bent her knees. However, her feet were not spaced like they should be, as, if you viewed her from the front, one foot was right behind the other. This meant she had little balance and could get pushed over from one side without much effort. The girl was far from stupid and a frown formed on her face as she realized her lack of balance, breaking the calm mask she had been trying to keep. After a few moments of shifting her weight and trying to move her back foot around, she looked up at Arthur with worried eyes.

"What do I do?" Natalie asked, voice confident despite her awkward stance. She allowed her hands to fall loosely at her sides, unsure of what exactly to do with them, and she chewed on her lip. "I don't have many...balance," she tried, beginning to feel very small as she looked up at the tall prefect.

[Arthur Bishop]

Arthur tried to make himself comfortable with the situation. The pair’s interest in one another was undeniable, and Arthur felt uneasy as the target of the girl’s attention. When he returned her bow the prefect caught a glint of surprise in the girl’s eye. He watched her back only to realise a moment later why the gesture had caught her off guard. Arthur was a portrait of English conservatism. Everything from his speech to his appearance had been fine-groomed from a young age to fit the standard. But when he bowed back it broke some preconceived notion held by the girl. She was judging him every bit as much as he was judging her. A flicker of amusement caused his lips to twitch, but Arthur stuffed the silly feeling away before anyone could notice.

He went on to apologise for upsetting the girl. Her response was short but polite, and she seemed to adopt a rather familiar, passive tone. It was a subtle shift from the girl’s previous attitude that Arthur couldn’t help but notice. Natalie’s expression flattened with her tone and, for a moment, Arthur wondered whether she was mocking him. She didn’t seem the sort, but Arthur reminded himself that first impressions were not always correct. Skeptical, the prefect settled himself in front of the punching bag and demonstrated the proper technique to the girl. He could feel her eyes on him, intent and perceptive as she watched. Finally, as he finished his demonstration he came to the realisation that she was not mocking him, but complimenting. After all, imitation is the highest form of flattery.

Blinking at the girl in surprise, Arthur took a moment to collect himself before diving into his explanation. Although Natalie nodded along he got the impression that she only understood half of what he said. However, the girl’s eagerness to learn was not hampered by the language barrier. He stood back and watched as she tried to mimic the stance. Aligning her feet, Natalie ensured that she would feel off-balanced and awkward. The fact was confirmed a moment later when she said in a small voice, “I don't have many...balance.” Struggling to keep a straight face, Arthur stepped up to the girl and moved her hind foot back until she had a stable stance. “Very good,” he praised her before positioning himself in front of her and mirroring the stance. “This is a back stance,” he informed her. “From here we can shift into a horse or sitting stance- the names are interchangeable.” The prefect shifted his feet until they were parallel and bent his knees.

“I don’t mean to be forward, but may I ask where you’re from?” he asked the girl. Perhaps it wasn’t a proper question to ask the stranger, but Arthur’s curiosity overcame his manners. The skin on the back of the prefect’s neck bristled as he faced the girl. With her silver hair and blue eyes it was almost like looking at a reflection of himself, and he could not overlook the uncanniness of the situation.

[Natalie Zhao]

Natalie was a little flustered, but she was trying her hardest to appear calm and collected. After all, the boy appeared comfortable beyond all measures with the situation although she wasn't sure how much of that was just a mask. She had to admit that it got more and more weird the longer she looked at him, as there was a striking similarity between the two of them that she was sure he'd also noticed. His eyes resembled her own, except his were almost metallic in appearance in contrast to her ocean-blue ones, but the longer she gazed into them the more uncomfortable she grew. It was almost as if every move she made was judged by the silver-haired boy, but that same judgement was hidden behind a mask of indifference. It made her feel vulnerable and exposed, so she continued to struggle to replicate a similar expression to his in a weak effort to hide. It was rare for her to feel as if her level of maturity or professionalism was matched by another, and it made her feel antsy under his watch. She didn't want to disappoint him.

As he shifted her position, she felt instant relief from the awkward stance she'd been in. It didn't take her long for her to understand why he had decided to teach her that stance first: it was relatively basic, but at the same time it gave her a sense of balance that she knew would be helpful in any form of combat. Not just that, but the more natural pose aided in relaxing her and took the worry of looking stupid off of her list. Now she just had to maintain a calm look and try to speak normally and she'd be all set. As he praised her, she felt warmth settle in the pit of her stomach and her tense shoulders loosened. She was doing well, and this was very good news for her. "What is best time to use?" she asked in a hushed tone, worried that she'd interrupt the lesson if she spoke in a loud manner but she couldn't stop her curiosity. She wanted to learn everything she could, which included when she should use the stances.

Shortly afterwards, he switched positions and bent both of his legs into what he called a 'sitting-stance' or a 'horse stance'. In an attempt to mimic it, she took the pose in for a few seconds before she twisted her hip and front foot. Although it felt a lot less useful, it was easier for her to copy, or, at least she thought it was. The name fit it well; it did look like a stance one might unwittingly fall into after a long day of horse riding. The corners of her mouth twitched at the thought of someone trying to walk around in that manner, but she soon dismissed the idea and her gaze grew serious once more. Arthur was not giving real smiles or jokes, so it was best for her to follow a similar route. However, she couldn't shake the idea that the stance felt uncomfortable and she wasn't sure how it'd be used. "And this one? It feels... not normal. Am I doing it wrong?" she asked again, continuing off of her previous question from before the stance switch, determined to memorize exactly the best times to use the positions he was teaching her. She'd heard that other people had powers that allowed them to immediately replicate any movement they saw just by looking at it, and she felt a rush of envy for those individuals. That would make learning to do things so much easier.

Arthur soon asked about where she came from, and Natalie found herself pausing to think. He likely didn't mean the literal version of the question since her blue eyes and light skin-tone lead to her being easily identifiable as born to English-speaking parents. This meant that he was referring to her Chinese accent, something that she'd been trying her best to conceal, and she wondered whether he was asking out of genuine curiosity or as a way of mocking her weak English skills. That insecurity dismissed itself soon after it appeared, though, as the boy seemed more interested than sarcastic. However, Natalie had to take yet another moment to herself again to think about how much was socially correct to share, as she was not bothered much by the idea of others knowing where she'd lived and what she'd done. If anything, Natalie was very proud of how she'd gotten out of the situation she'd been in and she felt as if sharing it would never harm her. However, people tended not to care too much and it wasn't very professional to talk a lot about oneself, so she always struggled whenever people asked. Then again, maybe she was overthinking it. Natalie frowned.

"Ah, um, I live in Beijing," she finally said, rubbing her arm, "called it home from when I was nine. Sorry for the...accent," she murmured, her eyes widening a little in concern. She was managing to restrain the urge to utter more apologies, but she couldn't help but dip her head as a way of expressing her regret. In worry, she also bit her lower lip. Hopefully it wasn't difficult for the boy to understand, but he seemed to be doing well so far. "You are from Britain?" Natalie prompted, head tilting a bit to the right while she spoke. She had regained a bit of confidence as she tried to move the topic off of her since it meant she had less social norms and customs to worry about, and her accent was less likely to get in the way if she spoke less. "I have not gone. What is it like?" Immediately after asking, Natalie's cheeks grew hot and her eyebrows twitched in surprise. She hadn't realized she'd begun to stop mimicking his expressionless face until now, and she grew more flustered as she worried about how many emotions she'd let through her body language and face. It was common for her to make slight mistakes such as those when mimicking other behaviours, but it was more embarrassing now since she was talking to someone who she couldn't help but desire the respect of. After a few seconds of internal panic, she struggled to return back to the emotionless mask but it was clear from her still-flushed face that she was frustrated with herself.