Welcome to Somnium {Ayla}

[Meredith Beckendorf]

For Your Consideration
.Cause high school, could be
Pawns: Meredith Beckendorf & Ayla St. Claire
.A mini-me of the rest of society
Status: Private, Active
.There's always a prom queen
Current Count: 2,202
.There'll always be, always be sororities
Time: 1st Day; Mere: Year 13, Ayla: Year 10
.Sadly, some will be, eternally
Her Style: Looking unkempt, cloak, corset, pants, heeled boots
.Keeping score of popularity and just 'cause
Her Style: Bat jeans, white shirt, red jacket, cupcake trucker hat
.They all do
Setting: The beginning of a new relationship
.Doesn't mean we have to act like we're in high school

It was the first day of school and Meredith had been accounted as the choice for one of the many unfortunate seniors who would have to escort around some little freshman so they wouldn't get lost in the big, scary world of Somnium Academy. To be honest, she hadn't yet seen Christian and it was irksome that she had to stand in the main entrance with all these idiot girls and boys she had gotten oh-so-used-to in her various classes. Some of them weren't even seniors, but those kids that took leadership courses, she was pretty sure, and she was secretly damning Mr. Forrest because Alin was, in fact, the teacher that had suggested her for this bloody trip. No other teacher would have noticed her enough to stick her name in the damn hat that was considered the top of the class.

Meredith kept looking around, but she was sure she wasn't going to find Christian Chevalier among those invited to this glorious event. Even if he had been told at orientation that he was supposed to be here like she was, it seemed unlikely that he'd show up. Come to think about it, almost as unlikely as her showing up, but somehow fate had found that the dorms this morning were far to bustling and loud to sleep through anyway, and the extra credit was worth skipping the first classes of the year. As a matter of fact, it wasn't so bad if she looked at it that way.

Her hair was a little messy, even inside the braid she had pulled it into, her make-up was light, just the rings of black eyeliner to set those tired eyes apart from the rest of her face, and her outfit was entirely black, as always. This fine autumn morning, though, she was wearing a cloak that was falling around her, making her look a little bit like she belonged in Hogwarts and not in Somnium, but she fancied they were close in social proximity, so she didn't really care all that much.

She was supposed to be assigned some girl named Ayla, and this whole situation seemed a little bit over-the-top. Way to introduce those people who were unacceptable for any other school, she supposed, since this place was full of misfits as well as private-school wannabes and she was a bit curious as to which this Ayla St. Claire was. The freshmen all had on these silly little nametags that made them easy to identify, but, honestly, Meredith was only paying half a dime's attention while she internally monologued about how boring and monotonous the whole deal was.

[Ayla St.Claire]

Click click, click click. It was the reason she wore heels. Not for the height or the look, but honestly, that peculiar little clicking sound it made while she walked. Today they were little red ones with straps over the middle of the foot, hooked securely by buttons shaped like bats. The bat pattern continued up the sides of her dark jeans- a string of winged night creatures fluttering up all the way to her hips. Securing the tight pair at the waist was a thick black belt, studded with metal pyramids. She wore a clean, cream colored shirt that tied around her neck in a collar-like fashion and tucked neatly into her belt. It was sleeveless, though one could hardly tell that as she wore a bright red second-hand marching band jacket, though she left it hanging open. To top off the strange appearance, a black trucker hat which featured a fanged cupcake sat atop a head of long, teal hair. Covering one eye of the cupcake was a sticker that read "HELLO! My name is: Ayla St.Claire."

Off she went, clicking of heels singing down the hall, accompanied by the low rumble of her suitcase's wheels. The suitcase was just as odd as its owner, covered with countless stickers, the largest being a purple octopus that yelled "Pancakes!" whilst holding a popsicle. She'd worried that this school would be another dull, hole in the wall, but as she continued on she found it more and more a pleasant surprise. Sure, she knew little to nothing about its function or its people, but the buildings so far held a certain aesthetic appeal. She was tempted, several times, to stop and photograph little pieces of the main entrance. Her grandmother had predicted she'd do that, though, and thus had buried all of Ayla's cameras at the bottom of her suitcase. She was a kind woman, but always on her case to be more sociable.

Sociable. Oh! Ayla glanced around now, eying all of the kids that roamed the entrance. She assumed the taller ones were the seniors, as most of them looked irritated, though some of them were smiling friendly-like and escorting the shorter ones. She'd been told the name of her escort, but...Well, she'd been in la-la-land again at that point. While names and instructions were being rattled off, Ayla had been watching a moth flutter about a yellowed lamp. Maybe she ought to start doing as she was told, at some point...

"Fat chance," She muttered under her breath with a snicker. Not sure where else to go, she simply stopped near a corner and sat down on top of her suitcase. She swung her backpack off of her shoulder and dug inside the piano-shaped accessory. Maybe that paper she was supposed to read was in here somewhere...

[Meredith Beckendorf]

Ten more minutes passed and Meredith grumbled something particularly obscene under her breath. Nobody by the name of Ayla St. Claire had passed her, which meant the little girl was probably waiting off somewhere. The goth girl sighed a mildly more aggressive sigh than the average person would and pushed those black bangs out of her hair before clicking her own heels down the hall to find her. Meredith stood almost 6 feet with her 3 inch heels and her ramrod straight stature due to the corset she wore. Her brown eyes stared out over the crowds and would not have noticed the girl she was supposed to be escorting if the bright colors hadn't drawn her attention that way based simply on merit..

Hello, my name is Ayla St. Claire

[/i] , The little sticker said it all, and Meredith might have laughed if she hadn't felt her left eye beginning to twitch. Carmen would have rolled around on the ground to see this little girl standing next to the entirely black woman all day, and she probably would come lunchtime or break. Meredith could just imagine the hazard she was walking into today--the comparisons to the smaller, brighter girl were going to be rampant, and she already was irritated. She put on her best, winning smile (which was not very good this morning), and headed for her best-friend-for-the-day. Meredith scratched the back of her head and stopped right in front of the blue-haired gypsy girl.

"Hello." She said, simply, her hand moving out from the cloak to hold up the ridiculous sticker that had her name printed on it, leaving it to explain that the girl would be saddled with her this fine, crisp autumn morning. She observed the girl sitting on the suitcase a few more minutes and drew various comparisons to how she might interact with Carmen or Christian and was sure that either of them would be better than herself for this high-energy model-type. She was digging through her suitcase for something, Meredith had no idea what, but she was a little more intent on the let's get going feeling that was growing with every new entrant and passer-by and every little, almost inaudible whisper about her weight she could hear over her shoulder.[/justify][/blockquote]

[Ayla St.Claire]

Ayla looked up immediately, hand frozen in her piano-shaped backpack. Towering above her was the girl that must have been her guide. She'd been expecting someone straight laced, prim 'n proper. Instead was this tall lady, who could've been draped in night itself. Sitting down, she only reached her stomach. Standing, she'd probably just reach her chin. Normally it would be at this moment in which Ayla would be daunted and feel tiny as an ant, but the stark difference between the year 13 and everyone around her was fascinating. Absently, Ayla felt around for her camera, intent on snapping a shot. Pesky reality, however, dropped on her watery head like a brick from the sky.


"Oh!" She quickly zipped up her pack and slung it back over her shoulder. Being an utter space case, fresh little Ayla had learned to skip embarrassment and cover it with a welcoming smile. Rising up, she put on a good face and extended a hand to her grim acquaintance, "Just in the nick of time, I was afraid I'd never find that little paper. Ayla St.Claire, how do you do?"

There was no fear in her eyes or her voice, in regards to Meredith being a Year 13 nor her gothic exterior. The brightly colored creature simply looked up at Meredith like any other normal human being. Or, perhaps, someone slightly more significant. She could hardly help that. Individuality was always a pleasure to behold; rarely had she ever come across a person of bold tastes and poor personality. At this point in her life, she came to expect that those that stood out were more interesting, by rule of thumb. In this way she was more glad to have Ms.Beckendorf as her guide, as opposed to a tweed-tucked pencil neck, boring her to death with a dull as dishwater orientation. Even if her guide did look suspiciously like the grim reaper.

[Meredith Beckendorf]

Meredith quirked her eyebrow at the girl as she stared down at the small hand extended out to her. Not a sign of fear, which was easily interpreted as both good and bad for the both of them. Either she thought herself above Meredith, or she merely saw nothing to fear. Neither was a normal reaction, and so the taller girl was a little off-put and hesitated a brief moment before reaching out to grasp the hand in front of her with a firm hold. "My name is Meredith, Ayla, in case you didn't get a chance to read my silly sticker." At the very same time it was mentioned, the little slip of sticker was being crushed into a small ball and tossed into the trash can not a few feet from them. "As a word to the wise, don't follow suit. I'm not required to wear my sticker, but most teachers will replace yours and some teachers are sneaky and give extra credit to the students who don't ditch them. Follow me."

Meredith turned on her heels and started off down the corridors at a crisp pace. She weaved in and out of the crowds like they were on a mission to get somewhere in a hurry, her cloak floating behind her in the cool autumn breeze. Even as the tall girl dodged each person in front of her, she had a habit of leaving them stepping out of her way rather than the other way around, commanding a bit more presence than perhaps a normal girl would have. Two minutes of this and three flights of stairs, both down and up, and she finally stopped in a small hallway and glanced around a bit, looking a lot like a secret agent making sure she wasn't spotted. When she had finished this mundane routine, she turned back to the girl and smiled briefly, looking utterly pleased with herself.

"Many pardons for the small marathon; I don't like crowds and the halls are full up today." She whistled a small tune and whipped out a brush from a bag beneath the cloak, bringing it up to calm her frizzed strands of hair down into a straight fall again before replacing it and sighing, seeming to consider the upcoming speech an annoyance, "Thank you for choosing Somnium Academy, the finest school this side of London. Welcome to the school, the library was over there, the cafeteria was over there, and the courtyard is just this way." She made various gestures, all only vaguely helpful, "Of course, I'll make mention of them again as we pass them. I'll escort you to each class and be waiting for you outside before it is out to escort you to the next class. I'm supposed to spend breaks with you and so on and so forth, but if you ditch me, what can I do? I will not hunt you down, so don't think this is a game of tag. It doesn't reflect on me if you do something wrong, so it would do you no good, blah, blah, blah. We should get along just fine, you don't seem like you're too much of a cunt." The words spilled from her mouth like a geyser, and her hands gestured cleanly to emphasize each one. She didn't seem to care that her foul mouth might set someone off in the slightest.

[Ayla St.Claire]

Ayla raced after Meredith and kept up rather easily. The only issue was the suitcase that she was dragging behind her. As the monster rolled down the halls, students that had been dodging Meredith had quite often met Ayla's suitcase immediately after. None of them had face planted, though! Maybe. She hadn't really stopped to check, too busy trying to both follow her guide and take in the sights at the same time. Other students simply looked more like a huge semi-disconnected blur than individual people. From what she gathered, though, she sure stuck out like a sore thumb, what with her bright red band jacket. Oh well, better to be remembered as the one that didn't fit than forgotten altogether.

The de-railed train escapade finally came to a sudden halt and Ayla snapped her suitcase in line. A short "Hah!" jolted from her lips upon Meredith's candid words. Well, this one was certainly an individual. She looked up to the unamused face with a spritely grin, eyes half hidden through a spray of teal fringe, "Well, I should hope so, though I can't guarantee that for my evil twin," A dead serious expression took over her face momentarily until she began looking about, "I don't suppose the dormitories are anywhere nearby? I'd hate to be lugging this casket about all day." Her voice was hopefully not too irritating. In her head, Ayla mulled over what exactly she sounded like. Sure her voice was young, but it wasn't squeaky. At least she didn't think so. Her cousin once told her she sounded like Judy Garland without the dramatic drippery that was her Oz-ian accent. Then again, she always fancied a similarity to Disney's Belle- oh! Dreaming again.

Ayla licked her lips and pulled them into a short smile, head turning back in the direction of Meredith. Maybe the tall girl wouldn't be able to tell that she'd temporarily went off into Wonderland. Wait. Had she? She hadn't thought Meredith said anything while her mind was on a tangeant. Maybe. Time to pay attention, girl. Leave the day dreaming for class.

[Meredith Beckendorf]

Evil twin? Meredith stared at the girl and quirked an eyebrow, taking a moment to decide whether or not that was to be taken as an insult or merely a testament to this one's oddity, and finally decided upon the latter. She eyed the suitcase afterward and shrugged her shoulders, letting out a bit of a sigh before turning about and heading through the small hall she had lead them into, "Yeah, sure, this way. After all that effort avoiding people, she was wandering back to the main hub of traffic so the girl could drop off her suitcase. The vague irony of it brought a smirk to those soft lips.

"Where are you from? And have you been informed about this school's... interesting applications?" She made it sound like they did human experiments with that tone of voice. They stepped back out onto a main hallway, flooded with people again, and she sighed. She hesitated only a moment before gesturing to the building to her right and naming it off as one of the many buildings Ayla would be trying to remember the location of after this haphazardly staged event. A few more twists and turns and about 5 more minutes of walking put them at the dorm halls, which were, as she suspected, flooded.

She considered taking the outside steps up to her floor, then recalled that they were actually here for Ayla, and the freshmen got the lower floors.. which, now that she thought about it, suddenly irked her heavily. Who decided that bullshit, anyway? She stopped to contemplate who she needed to kick in the shins, from the headmaster down to even Mr. Musuko, but couldn't rightfully pin the damn decision on anyone. She suddenly wished she had more time so she could bring it up at one of the meetings for next year, but as it wouldn't benefit her, she saw little reason to do so.

[Ayla St.Claire]

Ayla followed along thankfully, occasionally dropping off by a step or two to stare transfixed upon various tiny details. A spider twisting about on its own thread, dust clinging to a lonely rafter, a forgotten shoe sitting upon a window sill. Who would leave their shoe, anyway? Not that it mattered, but a close up on its torn heel against the light..."Where are you from..." Meredith's voice came knocking back on her head, "...Applications?" Ayla squinted, taking a moment to send the little secretaries in her head scurrying back and forth to rewind the audio tape and make sense of what her ears had conceived as a broken sentence.

"Oh! Well, London, mostly." She smirked slightly as she said so. Her parents had traveled often and she had been taken along for various outings. If the question was about her ethnicity, well, Spanish would be the answer, technically. If it was her birth place, that she just flat out didn't know. As far as where she was raised? London was the easiest answer she could give simply because the manor was the place she had physically dwelled the longest. What a hard question to answer, 'where are you from'! So many meanings...Grandmother would've answered that Ayla was from outer space, and Ayla would be inclined to agree. She did spend more time being a space cadet than a resident of any earthly location.

What was that other thing that girl had asked? Apples. Applications! She gave herself a mental nod for remembering. As they squeezed through the sea of students, Ayla half-shouted so she could be heard over the other chatter, "Applications? What do you mean by that?" In her head she was already wandering off on various paths, though most curious of concepts was that the school developed applications for that new touch-response phone that was all over television. She was already imagining a class full of students using an application to raise virtual hands in response to a question...How funny!

As the doors flew by, Ayla finally caught a glimpse of the numbers and chewed her lip briefly before calling up to Meredith, "Oh, hey...Isn't this floor for the tens?"

[Meredith Beckendorf]

Meredith rubbed her temples; she couldn't stand the noise that was billowing about the halls and rooms like a train announcing its way through town. An unfortunate tenth year brushed a little too close and found Meredith's 'aura'--and by that, we mean her elbow--to be a little hostile. She cleared him of his touching her with a quick flick of her arm and he hit the wall pretty unpleasantly, letting out only a squeak of discontent for fear of another blow to quickly follow by the grim-reaper type that had entered the hall. "What I mean is, the fact that this school has a course on dreams... and is a school specifically for the purpose of connecting to an outer plane. In short, it's 'special'." She didn't like being the introducer of the subject. Most would laugh, so she spoke the words almost hypocritically--almost as if she didn't believe them herself. She didn't need to explain herself if the girl started giggling and saying "as if" or whatever they said nowadays...

Either way, her statement would get acknowledgement when the girl napped or fell asleep that night.

Meredith turned about to face Ayla and grumbled out something about which was the girl's room, but it was drowned out by the talking. Oh, how she wished she had the power to just tune them all out. Her hand came up again to sweep her bangs back, cupping one ear as she watched the girl open her mouth to speak, preparing to listen in close to understand. When she asked about the year, Meredith blinked and nodded an affirmative answer to her question, "Yeah, Kid, I know where I'm going. Which one is yours?" She sounded a little bit miffed that the girl had asked if she knew where she was (completely mishearing, but wasn't that the problem with so many little loud fuckers everywhere?)

Meredith tapped her foot impatiently and took a deep, soul-soothing breath. Calm down, Mere-kat. It's just a day. She spoke to herself in that same soothing voice her friend had always used, careful to channel it correctly and let the soft feelings of warmth and safety flow through her so as not to punch the next kid to step on the edge of her cloak.

[Ayla St.Claire]

In truth, Grandmother hadn't explained anything about the school. With every question, her Grandmother had simply answered with a smile, a chuckle, and finally that it would be the school of her dreams. She hadn't counted on one of her statements being literal for once, "Dreams, huh..." a crooked smirk cracked onto pink lips, "No, I hadn't been aware of that...What an interesting course." Leave it to Ayla to be the one in a hundred who didn't suspect Madame Darkness to be playing a joke on her. Of course, at that moment she had still not grasped that connecting to another plane was more than philosophy.

"Yeah, Kid, I know where I'm going. Which one is yours?" Even with such a note of disdain in her voice, Meredith did have a certain musical quality in her voice. That's what it sounded like to Ayla, at least. It wasn't too drippy a sing song that one would expect out of Snow White, but a sort of deeper sound that was hard to describe. Something that would well accompany a slow melody in c major, perhaps. Perhaps that's why she continually tuned out today. Too busy listening to the melody of voices instead of the lyrics.

Tired of dodging students left and right, Ayla finally dropped her rolling luggage on its flat and created an obstacle for other students to worm their way around. She dug into her piano shaped bag once more and retrieved the paper which had eluded her previously in the main hall. Pulling the crinkled mass out, she blew a puff of air at the hair which insisted on veiling her eyes- though it fell right back into place mere moments later- and declared her room number, "None of these, I've been set to 223." It was tempting to end that sentence with 'o damsel of the dark', but a hesitating glance told her that Miss Beckendorf might not entirely be in the mood for humor.