Late arrivals...Really late arrivals.

[Michelle]

It was almost midnight when Hamish arrived at Four Oaks Academy. God only knew how long his flight from England was, and what the time difference was. All he knew was that he was bloody jet-lagged. Somehow, he managed to get his key from administration and drag himself, along with his luggage, up to room 304. A yawn escaped his mouth, his lips forming an "O" before resuming an exhausted expression.
"This better be my room," he spoke to himself, praying to a god he didn't believe in that he didn't get lost, or was about to stumble into a girl's room by accident.
Dropping his bags on the floor, Hamish fiddled with the key and lock before the door clicked open. He picked up his bags again, carrying them into the room. He dumped them on a random spot on the floor as quietly as possible, hoping not to wake his sleeping room mate. Hamish then collapsed on the free bed, ready to kill off his jet-lag.

At least, at the time, he thought it was the free bed.
Whoops.
Straight away, Hamish could tell that he definitely was lying on top of a person. His eyes widened in horror, and he was quick to jump off his room mate that in the process he rolled off the bed onto the floor.
"Shit," he cursed as he hit the floor, and cursing isn't something Hamish Cooper did often. He pulled his already tired body up before sitting on the actual free bed (this time he was sure it was free).
"Crap, I'm real sorry." Hamish apologised over and over to his room mate. "Really sorry man - I thought you were the empty bed - So sorry."

(Sorry if this post was slightly god-modding - but I honestly don't think Dyniste would be doing anything around midnight other than sleeping, but do correct me otherwise. XD)

[Velareksil]

((Unfortunately you have Dynist as a roommate, so he was probably getting himself involved in some sort of romantic tragedy fiction or reality. But we'll say he went off to dream of, likewise, romance xD <3))

Dyniste rose from his bed with a soft sigh, brushing away his hair, which had already started to knot in his sleep. As he looked around at his panicking new roommate he let out a tired laugh, "Ah, the way thou behaves stings as a thousand needles to the eye. As if thee thinks me to be a horrendous beast. But fear not, for although irritating, this one is no more then a harmless flee," he laughed lightly at his horrible ability to sound dramatic in mid-sleep. Because of such, he decided that, for once in his life, he could stand to give his real reply, "don't make a mountain out of an anthill, if you're tired just relax for awhile. I'm going to assume you're my new roommate, at which point I'd rather you not let simple mistakes keep you," he finished in a less exaggerated tone, smiling his kind smile as he withdrew a fine toothed comb to run through his sandy hair.

[Michelle]

It was a good thing he was smart, because Hamish was pretty sure that anyone other than him and the dude across him wouldn't get what he just said. He sighed in relief, noting that his roomie wasn't hurt. Not that he would, with the stick-like qualities that Hamish had; he was probably like a feather to him.

"Uh, well sorry if I came across as...How did you say it? Thinking you "to be a horrendous beast". And sorry for the stinging in your eye, you might want to consider eye drops." he said, almost naively.
“I’m Hamish, by the way.”

He was about to hop into bed, until he discerned it was only an uncovered mattress, duvet, and pillow. Sighing wearily, the red head unzipped his smaller suitcase, and along with his photo album and sheets, an old camera toppled out of a shoebox, striking the floor with a bounce, taking a photo as the floor pressed the button. A flash filled the dark room briefly, and then the digital camera lay silently on the carpet.
Hamish picked the camera up, looking at the photo that was taken accidentally.
His new roommate combing his dirty blonde hair in the middle of the night.

Hamish couldn’t help but smirk at the photo on the small camera screen. This roommate of his was unquestionably an odd sock. He turned the camera off, putting it back inside the shoebox and sliding the box under his bed. Hamish began unpacking his sheets, trying to stuff his pillow inside an orange pillow case. Someone had written “CAMOFLAGUE FOR THE GINGER” in palpable black on one side. He looked over to his roommate, who was still awake.
“So…Into Shakespeare?” he asked, before going on. “If not, why the subtle, dramatic, poetic use of words?”

[Velareksil]

Dyniste laughed his light laugh, his new roommate seemed like a fun one. "And I'm Dyniste, Dye for short, although some would prefer to call me Eros. Setting names aside, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he said with a smile, ignoring the bright flash that actually did come to sting his eyes. He brushed his hair forward onto his shoulder and ran the fine teeth of the comb through the ends tenderly. Not a single strand broke or snapped, and he smiled before shaking his head, "such phrases are just part of who I am," he said quietly as he twirled his recently groomed locks with a finger, "but we'll forget about my ridiculous hobby for a moment," he said. before turning and pointing a finger at his roommate. "I know you just got here, but I would you'd find yourself a little lady, or at least a friend, for the upcoming dance, it's been sneaking up so quickly, and now it's just beyond the horizon. I'm sure quite a few would absolutely love to have the honor of you asking them.

"But forgetting about the new growth of love for the time being, it's also, probably, a great way to get to know a couple people...or maybe we all play fool when we think this is just a friendly, informal celebration," he said. But despite the thought, his eyes flickered with their usual obsessive flame and he spoke, "and yet, since you're currently roomed with the god of love, I'm tempted to say. If morning passes, and then night again, and you do not have a kind girl asking your hand," his eyes glinted and he gave off a serious, yet somehow mischievous aura, "I'll personally drag you into the girls dorm to seek out the strings that bind," he hissed the threat just as his serious aura faded.

After letting it sink in, Dyniste let out a slight snicker before lowering his arm and using the hand to cover his mouth to stop his overwhelming amusement from flowing outward. It would do him shame if he woke the building with a fit of laughter. Shaking it off, he continued, "sorry, another horrid act by yours truly. But, alas, it would be a shame if I scared you out of going," he let out a sigh before finishing off his mouthful of words, "One way or another, it's late. I won't be able hold out on my usual tongue for much longer. Would not it be easier to sleep, as your everyday person would? After all, there is always time for proper introductions, over tea preferably, in the morning of a new day...that is, if you so desire."

[Michelle]

Hamish blinked. He just blinked.
Then, he laughed.
Him? HIM? Out of all the people here, him? Hamish didn’t really consider himself boyfriend material. His experience with girls was a plain zero. With the exception of the odd “friend who’s a girl”… Once he kinda grasped that his mental roommate was serious about this, I’m pretty sure you know what happens. His sweaty palms were now fidgeting with his pillow, now in its case. Putting the pillow down on the floor near his bags, Hamish set to work on the duvet, retrieving the matching orange cover from his bag. Someone else had penned “WHERE’D HIS HAIR GO?” in great, black letters.

“Um…I-I’m not r-really the kind of…the kind of guy wh-who goes for the whole…romance…stuff…ah…so, uh, I…I probably won’t be…won’t b-be going to uh, the dance, any-anyway. In fact…um…In all likelihood, I’ll be st-stu-studying for w-well, sch-school. Either w-way, I'm...er...pr-pretty sure a girl's n-no-not g-going t-to ask m-me to th-thi-this...this...um...dance.” His voice was stuttering like a broken car engine. Hamish finished covering the duvet, and started to fit a white sheet over the mattress, standing up to do so.
“So…uh…sorry. I would t-tell you not to drag me into the g-g-girl’s dormitories…B-But I assume th-that’s n-not going to…ah…s-st-sto-stop you. A-At least do it t-tomorrow when I-I’ve gotten some…um…some sleep.”
He tried to laugh calmly, but only came out more high-pitched than normal.
“But, y-yeah, I guess we can h-h-hang out sometime in the morning.”

[Velareksil]

Letting out a tired sigh, Dyniste spoke. "You're too tense, the little ladies are going to laugh at you, all the while thinking you're 'cute'," he said blandly as he began re braiding his hair carefully, "of course I can work with that, but it's so much easier when love blossoms casually. I'm not so cruel as to tie up your arms and legs and march you through the hallways of the Girl's Dorm, either. Most of them would know I was harassing you and probably hit me because of it. And then some of them would be smart and get an adviser to kick me out, which wouldn't be all that troublesome, but the rest would probably hide you in a closet of some sort and crowd around you with sympathetic faces as if you were a princess, a thousand miles from home, kidnapped by a black knight who also slew your precious pet dragon. To make matters worst, a stranger set of woman would probably think I predicted all of this and that was the reason I dragged you into it, and then quite possibly think you tried to get in in that fashion with the tainted goal of snagging a young lady's heart. If that happened, all hope would be lost and, to make matters worst, you would be labeled and quite possibly avoided. On the other hand, if the results weren't potentially disastrous I'd probably carry it out." Dyniste looked up at the ceiling, boredom clouding his green eyes. He hated the concept of a forced love, although he often times pulled the strings for just that. Finally he looked back at his roommate, examining his dark shadow, wondering whether it'd be prince or frog he'd see in the morning. And then, he realized he failed to mention something, "of course, if you don't go to enjoy yourself at this dance, and the upcoming dances, you'd," Dyniste paused for a moment, not knowing where he was going with the phrase, but he finished it, nevertheless, "be heartlessly slaughtering the spirit of the school...probably," he laughed at the thought before wondering to himself why he was up at such a late time, facing a new roommate, quite possibly getting ready to lecture him, all the while speaking in a casual tongue. In addition to that, he was absolutely and completely irked by the concept of going back to sleep and waking up with a knotted mess in the morning when he'd just finished with his hair. He let out an exasperated sigh, wallowing in his own stupidity before deciding to seize the remainder of the night to draft another tragedy.

((Good luck responding to that one. <sigh> The friendly photographers sounds like such a funner thing to play with, I don't get why you'd let me keep you from focusing on it, alas.))

[Michelle]

(Because the hopeless romantic and the hopeless geek make the funniest pair ever. But if you really want, I'll just leave the thread here.)

"Y-Yeah...I know I...uh...I get n-nervous real...real easily...but..y-you...you see, even if a g-girl laughs and...um...calls...calls me c-c-cute...it's...it's a p-pity date, isn't it? They'd be a-asking...asking me to go b-because they...er...feel s-sorry for...sorry for me." Hamish said, thinking about what he said all over again. He definitely wasn't some Edward Cullen, or whatever was the latest teen hearthob these days... But Hamish felt it would be immoral for him not to go, just as Dyniste said...
"But...ah...I guess...I guess I'll g-go, now you bring the..um...the school spirit in...But there's...there's nothing wrong with uh...nothing wrong with g-going d-d-dateless...right?"

He was pretty sure his room mate would disagree, but he was too tired to care. Hamish kicked off his shoes and climbed into his bed, now set up and neat looking. He thought for a second about wearing pyjamas, but he couldn't be bothered.
"Any-anyway, I'm too tired to talk anymore. I'll guess I'll see ya around, man. Night." He turned over to face the wall as he spoke, closing his eyes and quickly falling into a deep sleep, only to suprisingly wake up the next day at 10 in the morning...

[Velareksil]

((But the pretty little lady and the adorable dude are so cuuuteeeeee @u@ I don't mind either which way, but the hopeless romantic thing turns me into a horrible wannabe Shakespeare, alas. But no matter, because Dyniste loves aaaall <3 >D))

"Sleep well," he whispered before responding, "of course there's nothing wrong, although that invisible shield is down when you're dateless and then you have a couple little ladies attacking you from who knows where. Alas, that's not mine to predict, but don't underestimate that which is woman, they find what they love in the strangest of places. And they see what nobody else can...sometimes," Dyniste said softly, grinning as he got out of bed and made his way to his desk.

By the time his roommate had awaken, Dyniste had already been up and about brushing through the school to see if he could find entertainment elsewhere. His hair was tied back neatly and the braid had preserved since the previous evening without a single knot or loose end. He stroked it forward to brush it affectionately before returning it to it's place behind him. Just as a mouse sought out food, he had sought love before retreating to his room. What he had found, boredom, pure boredom. Meeting and greeting, elders welcoming their to-be minions. As for possible pairings for the future, they were endless, additionally, there were far too many tragic outcomes for even him to foresee as well.

When he returned, he seated himself in a desk that he had easily made his own. Papers were already everywhere, crammed into the drawers, laying on the ground, scattered such that the smooth wooden surface of the desk was unseen, and yet his pen laid neatly upon the mass, standing out with it's shinning dark black coating. With a sigh, he picked up where he had left off the previous night, drafting a tale of a kind and yet tragic bond. A tale of something slightly different than and yet extremely similar to what he was accustom to. A prose about a young girl and a kind, but broken world, their love, their disaster, and their natural born reliance upon one another. An ending where the world finally gives way and shatters, the child cries and at the same time finds that she is bound to the world in even fate, for the world is a part of who she was; a dream of a slowly fading spirit, that was slowly coming to a close, and the two fade together as a new day breaks in reality. That much he already had laid out before him, in third person, perfected with slight movements and details. Leaning back on the chair he considered the best method of beginning the script and ending it. After that he questioned himself as to whether or not he should keep this 'world' as an outward being that's voice and pulse could be heard through it's surface, or if he should make it easier upon a possible future cast and personify the created 'world' in even appearance. In his craze, he recalled a scene where the child would touch burnt wood, and whisper, "it's dead, but it's warm, and it has a pulse, why?" and the world would respond "because it is part of who I am, because I am very much, alive."
"What makes something alive?"
"A path of life is created by feeling, touch, love, emotion...hatred...and the far off finish, which is the end, which is death."
"Scary."
"You could walk my surface a thousand times over before you saw that end, though, so do not look toward it or for it."
Walk my surface a thousand times over, Dyniste thought to himself, and he knew his answer, it would be impossible, otherwise. For if the world became a being, and yet was asked to follow the girl through throughout, it'd break, shatter, it was too weak.

When he finally took note of his roommate ((geez Dye, took you long enough)), he said plainly, "the tea is already cold. Setting that aside, good morning, it's a beautiful day today," his tone got lighter as he spoke, and he smiled ever so slightly at the sight of his roommate. He was stuck between frog and prince. Princely in manner until awkward situations, frog-like in appearance. But if love sprouted from such, from the beginning, then it would be fine, it would be beautiful, but first it had to be found, and that was a trouble in itself. "So how do you plan to spend the day?"

((Crap, this dude is too fun to play with, this post just keeps getting longer, I'll leave it at that, sorry.))

[Michelle]

(I just realised he didn't take his glasses off. But oh well, we'll just pretend he did. Don't you love it when your characters don't listen to other characters? XD I don't get how Dye even thinks Hamish is princely. This is the guy who met his room mate by lying on top of him, I hardly would consider him princely after that XD)

Hamish stirred as light through the window turned the black behind his eyes to red. His eyelids flung open, his pupils adjusting to the light as he rubbed his eyes over and over again. Kicking the duvet off, he reached out for his glasses on the bedside table, sliding them on. When everything wasn't just random blurred shapes, he climbed out of bed with a small groan, the feeling of sleepiness still lingering in his head. He could hear his room mate speaking, but Hamish was too drowsy to care. Stifling a yawn, he mumbled good morning to Dyniste, before inspecting himself in the mirror. His hair was as messy as a child's room, his glasses were askew, his jeans, shirt, tie and vest had crinkled while he slept. Hamish shrugged, pretty sure nothing was new; maybe a few pimples here and there, but nothing much.
"How long have you been up? What the heck have you been doing up this early? Is it even early? What time is it?" He moaned, still very much half asleep. He picked up a cup of tea lying on his bedside table, taking a sip before making a scrunched up face.
"Ugh...It's cold," he muttered, but he took another sip, nonetheless.

[Velareksil]

((Good question, maybe he's just forgiving or maybe he just forgot. I'll never know. And yes, it's hilarious, it's like "LISTEN TO ME" "hm? Stop yelling, what's up?" "<headdesk>"))

Bad with mornings, are we? was Dyniste's first thought as he stared at his new roommate with his soft green eyes, unblinking. He caught most of the questions, but not all, as he was still interrogating himself regarding what kind of world he had created, "'tis no longer early as the tea has cooled, what time exactly I do not know," he announced in his exaggerated tone. He peered outside, staring at the sun. Part of his mind wandering still as he spun his fancy pen subconsciously, "though judging by the position the flame takes upon the sky, soon, to morning, we must say goodbye," he said happily, thinking to himself all the while, though farewells are sad, hello once again, forever will come, till our days come to end. "Or something like that," he chuckled without knowing he'd spoken, looking back at his roommate, he raised an eyebrow, covering his mouth as he let out a slight laugh when he saw the expression he made over the drink, only just comprehending the last segment of what he had said, "I can fetch a warmer cup right about now if you can say wholeheartedly that you desire warm tea," he said through his amusement.

((His eyes are so vaguely green I don't actually know what to call them, and yet on my draft they're so obviously green despite the same coloring.

Edit: I just realized I forgot to mention his hair in this post, that, is, not, normal TT-TT'))

[Michelle]

Hamish had no idea what his room mate was on about, as his sleepy-ness acted like a filter on his ears; all the big words seemed too hard to understand.
"You know, you should consider being a writer, you're good with words. But judging by your desk, I guess you're already onto that," he joked.
"Huh? What? Oh no, this is fine," Hamish said, downing the rest of his tea.
"Okay, what day is it? When I left...I think it was Friday...Oh well, I'll figure it out later, I guess..."
He picked up his duvet, and started making his bed. Instead of the usual kid just straightening out the covers, Hamish made his bed up like a perfectionist, tucking the blanket under the mattress in a hospital bed fashion.
"So..." He began, as he lifted his mattress up to tuck in the corners. "...How long have you been up?"

(I'm sorry, this is such a crappy post. >.<)

[Velareksil]

And apparently a neat freak...a challenge, huh? Dyniste thought to himself with amusement as he watched his roommate make his bed, all the while, the competitive side of his spirit flared. Though he kept himself to a formal dress code and had passion for being well groomed, he himself had never been one to take joy in keeping things strait, it put his mind off, made his mental pictures too sharp, and caused for terrifying tragedies that could never lead to happily ever after. The corrupted tales that he trashed immediately, tales as dark as the ink they were written in scattered the ground, tragedies beyond redemption, the order of the pages lost, some pages torn and others scratched out completely such that they would and could never be told by anybody. These papers went as sacrifice such that future tales created on the same initially empty desk could be kinder. These tragic and unfinished scripts along with the pitch black scribbles of distress had all been done in his boredom during many tiresome days, and restless nights, not one had lasted more then a seven hour span of feverish writing, as the minute he got back to them he was sickened by the direction they headed. As a child develops it's art upon scribbles from a younger day, he had developed a ground for future happy endings from the minute he had arrived, creating yet another den in which he could write. His roommate's neatness could never beat his sloppiness, that much he knew for sure.
But at the same time, there was an organization, for in that very mass upon, beneath, and inside of the desk were the happily ending tragedies as well as the rare comedies, nothing set the three types of stories apart as the paper used was all the same. Even so, Dyniste could separate the tales into their individual piles as well as reorder them with ease. Every letter written had become part of who he was. To him, each piece of paper was different from the next, each ream filled with blank sheets was so unfamiliar in comparison to the last, he could distinguish each piece, each sentence, each word, the crossing and tearing did nothing for him, as he knew it all by heart.
((Geez, went a bit far with that one, sorry))

Despite his love for throwing everything everywhere, he came to adore the patience of his roommate as he remade his bed. Smiling and wondering all the while what good it had ever done to start from scratch every morning. Such thoughts were trivial to him, though, and left his mind, replaced once again by his new storyline. Even with an occupied mind, he spoke, "a writer I may well be, but a playwright will always be me."

He let out a sigh and chose a more casual tone yet again, as he was already too far in to make his way out and focus. Turning back to his desk he set down his pen before turning back and continuing, "that's no good, downing cold tea, I mean, especially when you can get it hot, white steam and all. I never thought you'd wake up this late, though, so we'll leave the topic alone. Also, I'm not entirely sure what day it is today..actually, I don't even know when class starts, time isn't something I have a talent for keeping track of, so you're on your own with that. But since you've managed to uncover all of my silly hobbies not to mention quirks in a relatively small time span, I'm tempted to force you into telling me a couple more of both when it comes to you, would you do me the honor?" he asked, his lips curled to form a pleasant smile. As he asked this he once again brushed forward his hair, gently twirling the tied end of the braid with his fingers.

((Countered with a bad post on this end, ah, Dye, why are you so fun to play with? Almost like a gingerbread man before you eat him whole. Dang, somehow he's so spacey, he's suppose to be all hyper and happy and cheerful, it's almost depressing, but not. I want to get him to balance the pen on his nose or something <fail> I just noticed he's always playing with his hands. It would be sad if writing took up so much of his life that his hands couldn't stop moving, but I doubt that's the case.))

[Michelle]

(Bear with me; I’m typing from my phone at work. Thank god for lunch breaks – and the fact that my job involves doing so little.)

Let me get this straight – Hamish was smart, but he wasn’t very observant, so he didn’t realize that his question had been dodged. He continued to slip his covers in the tight space between the bed and the wall while he listened to Dyniste, trying to keep up with his room mate’s words.
“Yeah, but I don’t really care much about tea. It’s a bit of an English stereotype,” the red head said to the blondes remark.
Hamish now had finished making his bed, his sheets completely straight, and the words “WHERE’D HIS HAIR GO?” were more visible in the daylight. He turned around, giving his roommate a “Don’t ask” look.
“It’s fine if you don’t know the time, or whatever, I’ll just work it out. Let’s see…” He thought aloud, counting on his bony fingers. “Here, it’s 2 hours ahead of Greenwich Mean Time, and the flight I was on landed at around 9, London time… so, it was 11-ish here… And my watch says it’s around 8am, so it’s about 10am here…And if I left on Friday, then today’s Saturday. Brilliant.”
He smiled, showing off a pair of silver bracers.
“Means I have the whole weekend to unpack, and find my way around so I don’t get lost on the way to classes.”

Hamish opened his bag again and began to unpack, placing his clothes in an empty chest of drawers, folding each item of clothing carefully before neatly packing it into the top draw.
“M-Me?” Hamish asked his roommate rhetorically, as he put a bundle of rolled socks into the draw. “Well, I’m pretty sure you’ve found out a lot about me already. There isn’t much to tell you – except…uh…I’m a studious person, and ah… I’m into photography.”
He pulled a photo album bound in green out of his bag, handing it over to his roommate for him to look at, and then went back to his unpacking.

[Velareksil]

((No worries, it's still better then I do with a full keyboard and spell check.))

Dyniste smiled a mischievous smile, leaning into his arms that rested upon the back of his chair, "unfortunately for you, I care much about small things such as pleasant drinks, light chats, and elegant introductions. Three things which go together perfectly, and call for a soft atmosphere as well as fine china. But now that you've commented, I'm going to have to assume you came from Europe, at which point in time I welcome you here, although I can't say that for the school, since I'm a bit new as well," His gentle smile and kind eyes didn't change at all when he saw the words or the glance flashed toward him, in fact, he missed both, as they failed to spark his interest. There was too much new love to be found for him to get caught up in things such as detest and harassment. If ever the tall existence before him needed one day to be saved from such, Dyniste knew it wouldn't be he who did so, but rather a kind and gentle person who had a passion for justice and a strength on which to stand.

When his hands went for the album, he noticed that he'd been subconsciously playing with his hair, and mentally cursed himself for having such a habit, as it eventually came to make it messy, forcing him to redo it once more at risk of breaking those fine strands of light hair. With those thoughts, his absolute concentration had been lost, and he stored his new tragedy for another day. Sighing, he relieved his roommate of the book gently, as if the gesture in itself were a grace he wished to preserve, and he flipped through the pages, interest flying into his own eyes. It would seem I always forget that even frogs have their strengths; after all they must get around the world without being killed, the talent was definitely one that would prove to be of use one day, although he didn't voice the matter for fear of having to comprehend his roommate's stuttering for the second time in less then, as it would turn out, even a day.
((That really is all he ever thinks about, 'would ladies like this I wonder?' so few things actually spark his interest directly it's sad, Dye get a life.))

Dyniste blinked as he finished skimming the images, "impressive," he spoke beneath his breath before staring again at his roommate with blank eyes, "in that case, I hope you enjoy the beaches and architecture of this area, although, it would seem smaller details spark your interests, in which case I hope you find joy your search."