LIVING IN THE STATE OF DREAMING | high school au

[Feyre]

☽  ☽  ☽

You'd think that three weeks of high school would have already managed to crush Feyre's spirit, reducing her to another teenager merely making it through the year with grandeur dreams of summer and vacation on their mind. She had been warned by everyone that she'd hate public school, that it wasn't anything like the school for magical children that she had attended up until this year, the school that she had begged to get away from so that she might live like a normal girl who simply possessed the uncanny ability to set things on fire. Much to the shock of her family, she rejoiced in the atmosphere of this school though, excelling at her classes and, so far, keeping her special abilities to herself.

Sometimes the earth still trembled underfoot, the air sparking and crackling around her when she grew particularly excited over something, but she always managed to keep herself together. One instance of her stepping out of line and the witches vowed to toss her back into that magical school so she could continue her proper training. She wasn't going to give up this rare slice of freedom, not after she had worked so hard to gain it.

Presently, Feyre was at her locker, retrieving books for her next class and trying to catch the attention of someone, anyone who could provide her entertainment. She was considered a freshman and was given classes according to that standing, but to the young witch, they were far too easy or boring or both. She so desperately desired something (or somebody) interesting to make the academic aspect of public school a little more bearable.

Leaning against the cool metal of her locker, Feyre would emit a faint sigh. It still felt weird being here, learning here, but that was okay. She was happy and free- that was all she needed to be.

[MOONMADE]

[size=9pt]School was an institution built to introduce the young population to the concept of being controlled, policed, oppressed, from a young age so that prison didn't come as as much of a shock when, inevitably, 20% of the student body ended up behind bars at some point in their life. It as a hellhole where kids went to have their spirits broken and failed poets went to become English teachers. So Moon opted the fuck out.

Mostly. But he needed to graduate. So that meant meeting the minimum attendance requirement. Two days out of the week he could be found in the janitor's closet, or under the bleachers, or in Bub's classroom pushing that insufferable bastard that bit closer to throwing in the towel and sinking back into the demon pit he came from. This was, unfortunately, one of those days. Except, today, he was in the hallways, getting in touch with his surroundings.

Moon crashed loudly into the lockers to Fey's left. The lousily built metal structure shuddered with the force, and there was the sound of muffled shouting as another Senior was dragged down the hallway by one of his friends, kicking and screaming in Moon's direction the whole way. "Come near my girlfriend again, Okoye, and I'll string you up by your shoelaces!" He yells, but the side of Moon's face is throbbing and he's pretty sure that'll bruise, so he can only lift one hand and blow the Quaterback a kiss as he's pulled around one of the corner by another jock who knows better than to wreck the Football Team's good Samaritan reputation.

He stays like that, slumped against the cool metal, until he hears a sigh to his left and rolls his head around to see someone he doesn't recognize. Which is weird-- Moon knows everyone. This one must be knew. He stares at her and waits for his vision to stop spinning in hopes he might recognize her then, but, no. Huh. Eventually, he speaks, grin sitting sloppy on his mouth. "I know," he says, laying one hand over his chest and heaving a sigh of his own. "Those Senior guys are just fuckin' dreamy, aren't they? Real charmers. Make me weak in the knees. Don't think my pickup lines are working, though."

He waits a beat before curiosity gets the better of him. Rubbing at his right cheekbone in an effort to chase away the numbness, the disheveled boy fixes the stranger with a squint. "Who're you, anyway? What brings you to these glorious hallways?"

— TAGS

[imperia]

[align=center][div style="text-align: justify; width: 55%; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: 0px;"]Suffice to say that the public school system is not meant for Imperia. Well, it's not for anyone with a near perfect memory and a higher intelligence than many of the teachers. For many years, the teenager's parents enrolled her in private school after private school, enriching her brain with knowledge that is generally inaccessible to the average child. By the time the girl was ready to enter high school, she spoke four languages and knew more about, well, most anything than everyone else. History, in particular. While her academics flourished, Imperia only ever dreamed of attending a school with more than 100 students in the entire institution. She wanted the real high school experience. Dealing with entitled, snobby rich kids gets exhausting after a while, and she definitely romanticized idea of a public school.

After months of arguing, Peri managed to convince her parents to allow her to attend public school on the condition that she work with private tutors four days out of the week and she participate in student council. It is now senior year and she is easily at the top of her class, though she certainly does not behave like it. The classes are very easy compared to what she is used to, but it is quite fun.

With only months until graduation, Peri is already thinking about her future. Her parents want Oxford or Harvard or a number of other Ivy League schools, but she is unsure of what she wants. As far as she is concerned, she can get into any college she applies to, so choosing one is currently not on the top of her priority list. Slender fingers brush back her long, wavy raven tresses as she walks down the hall, a leather messenger bag slung over her shoulder and a friendly smile tugging at the corners of soft pink lips. Her parents might be unfathomably rich, but Imperia dresses in a plain, yet fashionable manner. Simple sun dresses and well-fitting crop tops and jeans consist of most of her wardrobe. Today she is wearing a youthful pink fit and flare dress with a subtle rose pattern.

Although Peri is student body president, she is still quite shy and tends to keep to herself unless she is in a professional setting. Which is why she cannot bring herself to do more than offer an awkward smile to Moon as she passes him and his companion on her way to her locker. She's had a crush on him for many years now, but she has always been too timid to say anything. Pale silver eyes flicker over in his direction as she opens her locker to retrieve her books for her first class of the day, but she still cannot bring herself to say hello. But those bruises...her brow furrows in concern.

[MirrorEdge]

Being a sophomore, and only attending this school during the second half of the semester, it was quite clear to Thea at first she would struggle with fitting in. Not that she cared. She couldn't give two shits about the whispers behind her back, about how she was expelled from her last school after getting into a heated argument with the teacher that ended with fists flying.

She had been the one left standing, and ended up spending the night in jail after the teacher was taken to the hospital until her foster parents came to pick her up.

"Aw, you should've let me have a turn." Eyes flitted towards the bruise on Moon's cheek, before her gaze settled on the jocks remaining, offering them a grin, which was enough to have them heading on to their next class faster than usual, instead of lingering in the halls.

After all, she had shown her more violent and slightly unstable side once or twice since she transferred here. It'd be best not to get on the grinning child's bad side.

She took this time to struggle a bit with the combination to her locker, the empty bag of candy that had been taped outside for others to take fluttering to the ground as she forced the slightly-warped metal open, and grabbing the red and yellow bandana to pull back the dark bangs from her face.

The younger student usually stuck to jeans of some sort, and t-shirts a bit worn from their use over the years, many of them hand-me-downs from her foster family's older children. It was a good home she was in, unlike when she was living with her mother, and they were a bit more understanding of the fact she hadn't really had a normal childhood, so no, she shouldn't eat the marshmallow while it was still on fire, and no, you don't punch the cashier when they say that you're a couple dollars short.

Template by Quill

[Feyre]

☽  ☽  ☽

Almost instantaneously, flames came to life in the palms of Feyre's hands, hardly controlled by anything except the sudden balling of both of her fists as she realized that her anger had reared its ugly head and she wanted nothing more than to destroy those awful jocks for tossing Moon into a locker. It'd be easy to murmur her favorite incantation and watch them become engulfed in flames, their screams a satisfying addition to what surely would be a spectacular sight. But she kept herself together, refusing to exchange freedom for justice- she couldn't afford to, not after she had worked so hard to convince the witches to let her finally have this.

[color=#3f5351]"Are you alright?" The freshman asked quietly, hoping that Moon and the others hadn't noticed the flames and, if they did, were wise enough not to comment on them. The school knew of her situation... all it would take was one word and she'd be sent hurtling back to the graveyard where her magical lessons were so often held. [color=#3f5351]"And those guys are hardly what I'd consider dreamy... they remind me more of a nightmare actually," She confessed with a simple shrug of her shoulders, resisting the urge to reach out and brush the side of Moon's face. They probably had something back at home for her to rub on it, a poultice of sorts that would certainly alleviate some of his pain. Maybe she'd bring it tomorrow.

[color=#3f5351]"I'm Feyre Josephine. I'm new here," Fey introduced, a sideways glance stolen in the direction of Imperia and Thea. The former was absolutely striking, her style something that the young witch so desperately wished to emulate. Her own torn jeans and color-blocked bold shirt paled in comparison next to the easy and elegant style of Imperia which was... not fair. [color=#3f5351]"Who're you two?" She inquired softly but not weakly, still a tad bit spooked that she had already almost lost control. The image of sizzling bodies still danced vividly in her mind, tempting her to go after those absolute assholes and give her a piece of her mind. God... she could feel her skin heating up just thinking about it.

[MOONMADE]

[size=9pt]He sees the fire. At first, a small crease forms between his brows, because he's not sure if his eyes are playing tricks on him or not, but then his face falls blank and he looks back up to Feyre. He knows witchcraft. Meaning he knows voodoo. It runs in the family-- His blood family. But it's been long since he's seen the deep set eyes of Malkia, and he knows nothing of it, himself. And the Okoye's never specialized in fire; they worshiped something more crimson, something that dripped. Feyre wasn't them.

A grin starts to spread on his face, shocked and humbled and small all the same. He holds her gaze for long enough for her to get the hint, before she asks if he's okay and he drops his hand from his face and pipes, "Peachy." with pearly whites bared and a voice sweeter than Pancakes that you accidentally spilled too much syrup on. He's not a rat, he won't say shit; he hopes she knows that.

"Good to meet you, Fey." An instant nickname. There was no going back, now. "I'm Moon." He speaks, and usually has more to say for himself, but Imperia passes before him and with her comes that whiff of lavender and suddenly he's forgotten how to use his mouth for anything other than grasping at empty air. Golden eyes follow her steps as she goes to her locker, and its only when he's tracking the length of her hair down her back like a massive fucking weirdo that he remembers she's smiled at him. She's smiled and him and he's missed it. Fuck. "And that's Miss Arceneau, herself."

He manages to glance back at Feyre, but it's more so out of paranoia that she's witnessed his complete malfunction than anything else. But if she's seen anything-- he's keeping her secret, she better know to keep his. "But, yeah, you're right. Pretty nightmarish. Dreamier things exist in this school, that's for sure." If he's talking about the President of Student Body herself, it's his own business. Not his fault he's whipped. He's asked her on more than one occasion to put her Presidency skills to use with his student body, in particular, but it flies over her head every fucking time. Either that, or she's not interested in the slightest. Which, who could blame her? All he's got going for him is a 4.0 gpa and so many cuts and bruises even the skater boys don't want to associate with him. Fuck their high-top Vans, anyway. The black eye looked good on him.

"How'd you end up here?" The hallways are starting to empty as the bell rings, and he slides down the lockers 'till he's seated on the ground, staring up. The doors to the classes close around them, but he wills them to forget their education, just this once. He feels like talking to a girl with fire in her hands, and it's sacrilegious to him to pass up on an opportunity to get Imperia to look his way. It's the one thing that stands between him and Atheism. "Fall from heaven, like Peri? Lotta' rich kids come our way for the--" he pauses, clearly cynical, [b]"Experience."

— TAGS

[adomania]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 55%; line-height:115%; text-align: justify;font-family: calibri;"]Des had never  enjoyed school when he was a kid. He had been a drop out only two years into his high school career, with life experience tucked into his belt that earned him a name out on the streets in nothing short of two months since he had decided the schoolbooks weren't the calling for him. He never had someone to care much for him and his education, and without a steady backbone to keep him up... the kid he used to be faltered and crumbled under the pressure, until there seemed to be little hope left.

It was ironic, now, that he was back in high school not as a student but rather as one of the educators. He was hardly one of the important ones, guitar in hand with a group of around thirty students out of the hundreds he taught that actually gave two damns about the music... but that wasn't really why he was there. He didn't want the kids turning out like he had, with no hope or direction beyond the chaos that they were presented with. He didn't teach music so much as he taught life lessons, hoping that at least something he threw at the teenagers who barely understood how they functioned let alone the world eventually would stick. He had been threatened with being fired multiple times already, with claims spanning that he wasn't reaching expectations that had been set for him... but he had garnered enough support from the students to be kept around.

No one wanted a group of pissed off teenagers rioting outside their streets because the only teacher who gave a damn about teaching them actual life lessons was gone because the system cared more about preparing them for tests than a happy life.

Still, he could understand the sentiments. He was also the teacher you wanted to catch you skipping classes, who would invite you over to his (hopefully empty) classroom and offer you whatever candy he had on hand at the given moment. It wasn't right to be encouraging students to actively break the rules... but he had a rebellious streak in him as well, and if he could spend an hour engaged with kids who thought that there was nothing left for them to do but sit in hallways and lie to their parents that they were in class, then it was worthwhile. What was the point in sending them back into a place they wouldn't care about anyways?

It was why, as the bell rang and the students filtered out, Des didn't seem to mind much that a group of them was still lingering, obviously hesitant to head out to their respective rooms. Some of them he didn't recognize (maybe they were the students who chose art over band and vocal or just new) but a few he did know, and he shot them all an easy grin as he walked over, clearly the opposite of the usual 'angry teacher about to send you to the principal because you were cutting.'

"Everything alright here?" of course there probably wasn't, if Moon's face was anything to go by and if he already knew of the bullying problem that plagued the school's halls. But he wasn't about to pry, knowing very well that some kids just simply wouldn't talk about it... and he was more than willing to give them enough space to show they were safe, but also be close enough there to be a net to fall back on. "You guys got somewhere to go? Or is this a free period for you?" those who knew him would pick up on the signal instantly, a free invitation to say 'yes' and get a one way ticket free of charge to his room for pizza. Some kids, the newer ones usually, excused themselves and went back to where they needed to go... but the older ones knew how he worked.

[GABRIEL]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]For Gabe, school had been...school. It was almost the entirety of his social life and 85% of his stress, but it was also why, when he retired from a military career comprised primarily of classified files, he returned as a newly appointed principal. As a teenager, he'd known the many imperfections of public school, how exams became everything when they shouldn't have been; looking back, they deserved to learn more about how to navigate their own lives, deserved to build a foundation for the future that wasn't steeped in multiple-choice questions that would never amount to anything. They deserved to discover their own passions and skill-sets, rather than bend beneath the pressure to excel in every subject regardless of importance. He could remember the kids whose lives revolved around whatever letter they came out with at the end of the semester, and the kids whose eyes went wide with genuine fear when their GPA wouldn't match their parents' standards. It was a shit-show, and while working as a principal wouldn't change the system, he could still make a positive impact on the pond down here.

It wasn't easy. The board was a pain in the ass, and he had to deal with teachers bringing up complaints about things outside of their purview. He made certain they were kept well-supplied, but the influx of complaints about Des had Gabe repeatedly smashing the giant stress button on his desk. As revenge, he tended to hold longer meetings, although occasionally, that backfired, since it meant he had longer time with them. But it wasn't all bad so far. He hoped not, at least; he hadn't held his position for a year yet, but he'd made better strides than the last principal, whose departure had caused no ripples whatsoever. Gabe didn't want to be "Mr. Reyes" who had little to no impact on the lives of those in his community. He kept things casual.

Admittedly, there were a few times respect became an issue, but that was more the fault of his parenting skills than his administrative ones. Because Lazarus was a shit and Gabriel was going to kick his ass. He glued every damn thing on Gabe's desk. He glued the fucking papers down.

He stormed down the hallway, typically neat curls now draped across his forehead from how many times he'd just about torn his hair out glaring at the mess of his desk. Instead of finding Lazarus, he came across some dawdling students, unsurprisingly accompanied by Des. "Moon," he started, reining in his anger because it wasn't meant for these kids, before getting side-tracked by the bruise darkening up the side of his face. Fucking hell. Was it the damn football players again? Gabe knew he should've cracked down harder on the coach for the loose reign over the athletes. "Go check in with the nurse. Des, I'll foot the pizza bill, just send it into my office." Exhaling, he took a second to identify the other students, glad to see Peri around, although he'd have to keep an eye on Thea. Again.

"Josephine," Gabe said, dark gaze on Feyre, though not unkind, "this is a good crowd. You have any issues, you can bring them to me. In the meantime, I have plenty of asses to kick and not enough time, so I hope to see you around later." With that, he set off at a brisk pace, determined to find Lazarus and withhold this week's supply of sticky buns.
[align=right][i]——INFO

[imperia]

[align=center][div style="text-align: justify; width: 55%; font-family: georgia; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: 0px;"]To speak or not to speak, that is the question. Should she open her mouth and force out the words which dance at the tip of her tongue? Obviously she can hear the conversation between Moon and the congregation of folks who seem to flock towards him like moths towards a flame. Or perhaps Feyre is the flame and Moon is the lead moth. Even as Moon specifically refers to Imperia, the girl struggles to find the resolve to voice the words she wishes to say. And so she listens while pretending to fiddle with something in her locker. Well, she really does fiddle with something: a picture. More specifically, a picture taken before last year's prom.

Moon had not asked her to the dance last year, even though Peri thought she made it as painfully obvious as a shy, socially awkward girl could make it. Who knows? Maybe he was planning on asking her, but he was beaten to the punch by a nice, albeit boring, senior named Ron. Unable to say no--to tell the entire cafeteria that she was waiting for someone else [Moon] to ask her--Peri agreed. But being that she was on student council, she was required to arrive to the event early so she could put the finishing touches on the decorations and make sure the dance proceeded without any disasters. So she made the bold decision to ask the boy she's liked since freshmen year to help her out. Granted, he would be there along with every other student council member and Ron, but any sort of time spent with Moon was--is--better than time spent without. The image depicts them only minutes before the dance began, dressed to the nines, and smiling brightly on the stage. Peri is only one person away from Moon, looking like a princess in a pale pink chiffon dress, her head slightly angled in his direction as if she had been staring and only looked away in time to smile for the camera.

It is a highly treasured memory. She printed a larger version and framed it so that it now sits on her bedside table. If only she could find the courage to speak up now...

The arrival of Principal Reyes distracts Imperia from her thoughts, luring her back to reality. He is handsome in the way that established older men tend to be: cool, calm, and confident. It is easy to respect him. Reyes tells Moon to go visit the nurse and Peri spots her chance. "I can walk you to the nurse, if that's alright?" her voice is soft; unsure. And then, in a bolder tone, she adds, "I have to drop off some papers at the office, anyways." Just in case anyone thinks she was trying to make an excuse to spend time with him. Which is...completely true.