Running Laps Around the School (Open)

[Jonathan Winters *Deceased*]

If anyone cared to look, they could possibly see a young man, with whiteish hair running. More accurately, running around the school. Making already for his fourth lap, he finished up, with beads of sweat going down his neck, but no panting, just a slower, deeper breathing. He was just in his army fatigue shorts, and a sleeveless white shirt which was already dampened by his sweat. Taking a water bottle from his belt, he held it to his mouth, and drained it, wiping his mouth, as he walked around the bench at the front of the school. Hot day, the sun made itself very present today. He kept sitting, resting for a little while longer. No. He shook his head. Jonathan wasn't done. But, it just felt strange, not running with a pack of people, as he was accustomed to. Reaching in his shirt, he pulled out his dog tag, and looked at it for a while.


And for a while, he was completely still, listening to the birds, barely moving, his breathing sounds becoming non-existent. Quiet. It was an improvement for the after-run, or at least the break run. He'd have to check how long the pathway around the school was... one mile? Three? The winds gave a cool breeze, Jonathan holding up his head in appreciation. This was the true reward for running until you sweated so hard. This one feeling was what most runners looked forward to. It didn't always come, but when it did, it was rewarding in itself. A few leaves from the nearby trees blew off, going past Jonathan, but he didn't notice them, his eyes closed, listening. The winds were singing. Just like when he first came here.

[Tormaigh MacRagallach]

With a whirr and a clink, two grappling hooks shoot up over the railing and onto the pathway that circle's the school's perimeter and are pulled tight. The sound of ropes being reeled in by something mechanical is followed by a clanking metallic smack as a gauntleted hand grasps the railing. With a great heave, a man flips himself over the railing, carrying with him a ladder. The grappling hooks, still dangling from the ends of the ladder's legs, reel themselves in all the way andn snap into place with a pair of solid clicks.

Torm, breathing heavily, staggers away from the edge a few steps and steadies himself with the ladder, clearly winded. He was on his fourth lap to and from the edge of the city's lowest level. It still amazed him that a city this huge could be flying in the sky, and that it had so many levels of streets and tall buildings coming up through, some starting partway up, some ending below the top level, et cetera. Torm gazes around at the tree-lined path and listens to the birds for a moment, willing his heart and breathing to slow. Even more amazing is that plants, soil, grass, and animals live and grow here too... he thinks. ...a natutal ecosystem in a man-made environment. The academy, of course, was at the center, and its foundations reached the very bottom of the city; it was said that accesses in the bottom-most basement opened onto the sky below. In contrast, its tallest towers rose above where Torm now stood, regaining his composure after his workout.

After a short while, Torm was completely still. His breathing was normal, and he simply enjoyed the gradually increasing breeze whipping across his face and through orange hair and open coat, threatening to take his wide-brimmed fedora off his head and along with it. Suddenly, Torm realizes he is not alone at all. A man sits completely silent a few paces away on a bench with his eyes closed, totally motionless. Unsure as to whether he should disturb the man's solitude, Torm hesitates before speaking in the man's direction. "Couldn't be finer weather for some time outdoors, aye?"

[Jonathan Winters *Deceased*]

"Couldn't be finer weather for some time outdoors, aye?" came the voice, just a little ways from him. Truth be told, there had been finer, and then, there had been times far worse that he would've been forced to spend outside, but today... today was nice. He couldn't complain, he couldn't compare. Everyday, just its own. Without even opening his eyes, he nodded at that statement, but, after a while, curiousity got the better of him. His eyelids flicked open, turning to see the man. An older man, maybe just entering his twenties, possibly later, orange hair, vivid green eyes. Irish. Or Scottish. Jonathan had forgotten the diffences. Yet, although he ashamedly admitted this to himself, the stranger brought back memories. Many men from the army who sometimes joined the D-13 had a high percentage of being Irish. Fierce fighters, stout, loyal, though they could blow a good bit of steam, if you pissed one off enough. But that was stereotypical, as there was, every now and then, the ocassion where Jonathan would be faced with a very sensitive one. His mind drifted back into focus. Strange... was he, carrying a ladder? The hat and overcoat didn't help to make himself anymore inconspicious.

Jonathan waved him over, beckoning to take a seat, not saying anything, his face blank as always. He would've smiled.. but the pills were technically still in effect. For a while, he would let his mind reminiscience. Kyle McLachlan, a twenty-seven year-old gunmage. Good guy, Jonathan had never really gotten a chance to know him, but, he was a pretty damn good shot, from around midrange, with his gun. Was all about incendarary bullets, making them more fiery, more explosive, and experimented a lot with making his fire bullets able to penetrate into someone a lot further, before they set off. He'd died among with many others in the second battle with the Beast. Suprisingly, as he realized this to himself, his eyes swiveled up into the sky. He wasn't bothered as much by so much of his comrades death. Had he gotten used to it? Was he really just sort of blocking it out, as if in denial? No... chances were, it was a combination with the pills, and, well, if someone dies, they wouldn't normally want someone to be held back, just because of their death. Yeah, that was why Jonathan didn't feel as affected. Kyle had fought a damn good fight, killed a lot of those giant spiders, with minimal use of his own shots. A real shame.. but, at least, he would always be able to remember the sonofagun.

Jonathan's attention turned back to the man, looking at him, done thinking, at least for the moment, about dead soldiers. Sadness, yes, but everyone fought for their own reasons, in their own ways. Which, on that train of thought, made Jonathan even more curious about this stranger and as to why he was carrying around a ladder? His face remained blank, as always, but.. his eyes, watched him, thoughtfully. Jonathan was an eye-smiler, able to smile with his eyes, or at least, convey his feelings through his eyes better then actually doing so with his lips, but, just as long as the other person was watching carefully.

[Tormaigh MacRagallach]

Torm nods at the man's gesture to the open part of the bench, but he opts instead to sink to the grass on the man's other side. After laying the ladder in the grass nearby, he leans back on his elbows and stares around, and a thoughtful expression becomes manifest on his face.

Torm glances sideways at the the man on the bench, then down at his own attire. There's people of all sorts here; I seem pretty normal compared to some, but I probably look outlandish compared to this guy. In fact, to Torm, he looked more normal than anyone else he had seen at the school as of yet, aside from his posession of the musculature of a person who trains seriously. Something about his demeanor just screams 'armed forces," though. Straight-backed, still, silent...the carriage of a soldier, and a professional one at that.

While, scanning the area nonchalantly, Torm speaks up. "If yeh don't mind me askin', what's your name, eh? I haven't seen yeh aroond the place before, not that I've been here long either..."

[Jonathan Winters *Deceased*]

Jonathan's eyes tracked the stranger as he walked towards him, indeed, going to take a seat with him.. no wait. There was a quick decision that ran through his classmate's eyes, and he instead took a few steps to the other side of which Jonathan had indicated towards, sitting down there, on the grass, laying down his large... ladder. Jonathan's eyes went up to the clouds, as he thought about that. A ladder. The closest he had come to making a sarcastic look on his face, with a drizzle of amusement. But his face remained blank, blank as always, although his eyes showed more life, showed a real interest. Irish, a ladder, nothing to work with, this guy made him more curious then since the time... never. Well, curious in other things, but, not so much as curious in a person as to who they were. Turning his head around, to take a look at him, he saw that Torm himself was taking a look at him, and then back at himself. To him, Jonathan probably looked like a strange guy, as everyone else seemed to look... different. Jonathan probably looked like the only normal guy... thus making him himself look... different. Strange irony. Jonathan turned his gaze to a sudden bird, that was chirping just a little whiles ahead. Sounded like a blue jay, maybe a click or so away.

"If yeh don't mind me askin', what's your name, eh? I haven't seen yeh aroond the place before, not that I've been here long either..." came the accented voice from Jonathan's classmate, breaking his concentration on the bird. Turning to look at him, he found the stranger still staring into the area around them. Name? Hmm... he fiddled into his shirt, the metal chain clinking about as he pulled out his dog tag, and leaned over, holding up his dog tag to the side of the man's face.

Winters, Jonathan
Blood Type: AB
Occupation: Sniper, D-13

Jonathan's own eyes looked at the man imploringly, pulling back his dog tag, fitting it down his shirt. He held out his hand, palm up, fingers slightly seperated, as if to say, 'how about you?' In contrast, his face remained blank as ever, but his eyes, his eyes were alive, shining curiously. An eye-smiler, that's what Jonathan was. The advantage, being which, whenever a man would smile through his eyes... you would know that it would be a true one.