Arnold Manger
December 18, 2015 2:22 AM
Headless boy by Arnold Manger
OOC: Immediately follows the thread with Emery in Aladren.BIC:
Arnold entered the water room with a huff, rushing in with such troubled mind and fervent feet that the room had not completely morphed to him yet, still warping a bit in the distance. He was aiming for Rhode Island, for the little dock by the babbling stream connected to the Narragansett Bay. But this was not quite that; he was closer to the shore, and the salty waters were upset, raising and lowering dramatically as an angry current flowed through them. He couldn’t say he blamed the room and its magic for the miscommunication; he felt the way the ocean looked.
This whole thing with Emery was so stupid. Arnold had tried to be understanding and kind despite also being wronged here, setting aside his personal hurt about how none of his friends voted for him, hurt about how Emery decided that a title was worth more than their friendship and was doing nothing to look past it. He really tried to be warm and open with his friend, splitting his heart wide and telling his deepest anxieties to make the playing field even and get Emery to open up to him, and while yes, his friend(?) had told the truth, he had done so in such an out-an-out attacking manner that made Arnold regret even trying.
The rocky waves crashed and ebbed, stealing sand from the beach like they were demanding a sacrifice. Well, Arnold had the perfect one. He reached into his pocket and took hold of his Head Boy badge, a stupid little pin, cold metal less impressive than he had thought when his name had been called and more trouble than it was worth, and he tossed it into the waters. He didn’t know if he would ever see it again, and that was fine with him. It was too much damn trouble.
He expected the waters to subside, but they altered in design so little that it was negligible. His hurt had not subsided either; now he had no badge and no Emery, who surely would not magically forgive him--for an action he felt ought to have required no forgiveness, since he had done nothing wrong--and reassume their friendship. But he also didn’t care, giving into the anger, letting the oceans dance before him in endless loops that slowly built even stronger. The superficial skies above him grew greyer and greyer until there was no more blue left. And Arnold felt the same way.
If the Head Boy position was so coveted and so destructive, then there would be no Head Boy at all.
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Arnold Manger
Headless boy
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