Basic Body Types (Christian)

[Meredith Beckendorf]

For Your Consideration
.And I'll be everything that I wanna be
Pawns: Meredith Beckendorf & Christian Chevalier
.I am confidence in insecurity
Status: Concluded
.I am a voice yet waiting to be heard
Current Count: 5,487
.I'll shoot the shot,
Time: Sophomore Year
.Bang
Style: Straight and Down
.That you hear 'round the world

She swept those straight black strands back behind her shoulder, staring up at her newest prison. Somnium Academy loomed over her, staring down at her with its foreboding buildings and promise of a 'curricular for the special kids'. It sounded like a school for retards, not a school for gifted kids, like her foster parents had passed it off to be. She was sure they were just looking out for her best interest--they were always that way, but she still didn't have to like it. Ever since they had yanked her out of Australia, it had been one school after another. Always fighting, she'd find another reason to get expelled, but homeschooling wasn't an option; she'd drive them crazy. Why couldn't she just be a good girl like Rob? She wanted him to get all the attention.. so when they had presented her with options, she had, of course, chosen the boarding school. She wanted to be far away from them; he needed to be cared for.

Meredith shifted the pack over her shoulder and sighed. Her stuff had already been delivered to the dorms, but the stuff that really mattered to her was over her shoulder. Her big brown eyes scoured the slender population and she scowled. I'll make a ten to one bet with you, Riff-chan, that this school is like all the others. It was a comfort mechanism, pretending her best friend could hear her, even all the way from here, but it wasn't really true, and she knew it. Meredith adjusted the black corset and lace arms and started forward in the tattered skirt she wore around her legs, quick flashes of fishnet appearing above the boots as they swung out in a long stride, carrying her forward through the crowd.

She reached the arch before her ear twitched.

Her little finger reached up and pressed into the canal of her ear, wiggling a second before pulling out again, waiting to confir the topic at hand.

"Why do girls her size wear revealing clothes? It's disgusting."

"She should take her fat ass and go get some granny clothes.."

Her teeth grit, and she turned on her heel and bent over low, "I'm sorry! Did you have a problem with my outfit?!" The voice was loud, scaring the two girls out of their seat as they realized she was addressing them. "I always wondered why chicks without any breasts were allowed to wear low cut blouses--since they were meant to show off cleavage."

"Excuse me!?" One of the girls stood up--she was the taller of the two, brunette hair that was blonde tipped at the end. She stood up and stepped two feet forward, but she was engulfed by the Gothic girl before her. Her pride wasn't about to let her back down, but Meredith already knew that look.. and her friend was just sitting there huffing angrily without any idea what to say after she was called out.

"... You're excused, Twat, but don't do it again." Meredith turned and stomped away, only to be followed by a chorus of insults about her weight. Today was starting out peachy. She turned around the archway with her head tilted down and a quick strut.

"God, I hate people like that," She kept muttering to herself, trying to unclench her teeth and assuage her anger, "It's like they think 'cause they happen to have a quick metabolism the rest of the world is lazy and doesn't 'keep up'.. and even if they do diet, it's no fucking reason to be rude. After all, my body type is just fine, and I look good in this goddamn corset, so they can go fuck themselves. Social culture would have preferred me in Renaissance days, so it's not like my body type is definably unhealthy.." She kept snarling to herself as she walked, stomping those heavy boots with a click, click, click of the high heel against the cobblestone.

[Christian Chevalier]

The first day of a new school was an even bigger joke than the first day of a school you’d been to for years. There was always the clamoring to find classes, the random, useless informational days, and the rearranging of schedules until it could no longer be recognized for what it originally was but, when you’d never attended a school before, it also meant that you got lost a bit easier. And Christian loathed getting lost, especially since his directional sense was phenomenal, but even more than that, he loathed the bumbling idiots who offered to assist him, especially when he could tell that they obviously didn’t want to. Unless they were girls, because he was obviously sexy. Come on, now.

But he had yet to find any girls that he thought he might want to spend any amount of time with, so he was just sort of wandering around, trying to find the infirmary [just in case there was ever an emergency he couldn’t tend to himself]. He had ended up outside by this point, but he figured that he could go back inside and ask for directions later, if he needed them. Of course, he didn’t really relish the idea of asking for directions to an infirmary anyway, since most people tended to wonder what it was that had caused him to be infirm [which he wasn’t, thank you very much] which led to awkward looks of disbelief when he said nothing. Either way, it was a hassle he was glad to avoid.

He would have been even more glad, however, if he could have avoided that annoying clacking noise. He couldn’t tell entirely where it was coming from, since his walkway was empty, but it sounded like someone preparing to march off to war. With a bit of a scowl, he sped up his walk until he’d reached the corner and turned it. There, of course, was the source of the clacking; a girl stomping on her boots like there was a colony of ants underfoot. Had he actually seen a colony of ants, he might have walked over to help or at least sympathized but, as it was, she just looked like a little emo girl pissed off at the world and stomping her stupid clunky boots to prove it.

Well, Christian didn’t need anyone to prove to him that they hated the world since he wasn’t particularly fond of having opinion’s asserted at him anyway and, so, without further ado, he put on his best scowl. Managing not to bare his teeth, he stomped over to her and fell into step beside her. Sort of. About two feet away, so that she couldn’t take those pissed-off-at-the-world boots and stomp on his poor, innocent toes. He glanced over at her, still scowling and looming in his six-foot-two way.

“Do you have to stomp so loudly?” he asked, transferring his gaze to those godforsaken boots. “It’s annoying.”

[Meredith Beckendorf]

Her movement stopped, still like a statue. If one could see tension, they would have seen the radiating sparks off her. Her eyes might have glowed red, her whole body might have leaked waves of black squiggled lines of irritation as it rose into the air. Her hands clenched into fists, digging those pointed nails into her palms as she tried to calm herself. The cosmos had determined, though, that Miss Beckendorf would not make the first day of school here. Her temper rose, tangibly, from her toes, struggling past her defenses until it finally reached her head, boiling from her ears in a squeal.

Any other day--any other moment, she would have been able to keep her temper. Okay, perhaps not any other day or any other moment.. but there were plenty of moments that could have been had that this tall, blonde, insanely attractive, snotty son of a bitch could have shown up in her space. She fully expected popular kids like him to cause her grief, but not right now--not while she was angry. Did he have no survival instinct at all? Annoying, he said? She'd show him annoying.

Her movement was very fast for someone her size, her foot slipping out to a sturdy stance, settling her left foot firmly right behind his own ankle in order to set him off balance when her open-handed palm heel came full-boar at his ribcage, the flow of her hips straight up to the final impact a perfect strike, fast as a snake. Her hair resettled behind her shoulders after the movement and she stood there a moment, snarling, before resettling herself in a straight position at her full height and glowering at him over the curve of her ample bosom.

The stare said it without her making a flap of her lips.

Try my temper some more. Find out what it feels like when I heel kick you.

[Christian Chevalier]

Christian had been expecting a bit of a hissy fit, maybe some idle threats, but he had certainly not anticipated actual violence. At least, not violence that he couldn't stop with more than a raising of his fist. He could, of course, have avoided the hit and, had he been a little less cocky, he probably would have. But he couldn't really pass up the opportunity to watch this girl struggle about to try and hurt him, doing something weird with her foot and trying to dislodge him [which would never work, seriously]. What was she going to do next? Try to punch him?

When she actually hit him, he was a little startled, but it was nothing to the shock he felt all around when he suddenly found himself careening backwards. He gave a yelp and threw his arms out to catch his fall. If he was lucky, he would sprain his wrist. If he was unlucky...well, either way, he was probably going to have to actually go to the infirmary. When he hit the ground, he didn't hear anything too bad, so he figured that sprain was the way to go and just sat there for a minute, alarmed.

After it had sunk in that little emo girl in her world-hating boots had just floored him, he glanced up at her, a little bit less hostile than before. The last time he'd seen a girl who could fight at least enough to defend herself and wasn't taught by him was...well, never. It sort of brought a shine to his eyes.

"...I'm Christian," he said from the ground, gazing up at her with a mix of incredulity and adoration. "I'd offer you my hand, buuuut it kind of hurts."

[Meredith Beckendorf]

He had flown to his place at her feet with very little resistance, settling himself on his ass, barely stopping his head from collision by a careful use of his hand to slow the momentum; clever, but he'd pay for it with a bit of bandaging. She had shown the little preppy boy where he could shove his annoyance, and it felt massively good. The picture of him staring up at her from that place in the dirt could have only been more perfect had he been on his face. She was a God in that moment. Absolute power and everything she could ever want in revenge. Meredith's smile was one of self-satisfaction. He had left himself wide open as he possibly could have, whether that was from arrogance or lack of training, she didn't know nor care. All that mattered to her was being able to stare smugly down at the ponce from her elevated station after putting him firmly on the ground. As a matter of fact, the more she thought about it, the more worth the inevitable expulsion after he threw his preppy boy fit seemed worth it.

But it was her turn to be surprised when he responded to her. Instead of crying and screaming about how he'd sic his very wealthy parents on her, he.. introduced himself, and even made a little joke at his own expense. She blinked those big brown eyes and swept her hair back away from her face quickly, staring down at him from the dark circles of eyeliner, then bent down and grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him up, using her balance in her very well-endowed hips to counterbalance the bigger boy's weight as she pulled him up with a strength that was impressive for a girl her size. "There. No hand needed."

It was the closest he was getting to an apology, so he had better not have expected any more, she thought to herself as she fixed her hair and brushed off her skirt, noticing just now that she had flung her back to the ground with the twist of her body. She sighed softly and dusted herself off first, leaving it there for the moment, "I'm Meredith, and ..." Well, what the hell was she supposed to say after flooring the poor kid? "I'm new."

[Christian Chevalier]

If he was shocked before, it was nothing to the shock he felt when she actually pulled him up. Well, not so much that she tried, but that she somehow managed to succeed when he was about twice her size...sort of. In muscle mass, at least. As she steadied him, he managed to get his wits about him so that he could help a little bit and step away when she had finished. He looked at her, a little bit less condescending than before. Had she been wearing a shirt that covered up her bits, he decided, he probably wouldn't have judged her hatred of the world so harshly. Although, that wouldn't have changed the sound of her boots, who were the real instruments of this madness, but still. He liked to think that there was a reason for his judgments.

"Nice to meet you, New Meredith," he said, stuffing his throbbing hands into his pockets. He would see to them later; after all, he'd had them his whole life whereas he'd only had this treasure of a conversation for about ten seconds. "I'm new, too. Just got here." He shrugged and glanced at her again, noticing that her bag had fallen. Since she had picked him up, he thought it only courteous to pick up her dropped things. It was no matter that she had been the reason he'd needed to be picked up--he was still marvelling at that far too much to resent it.

"So, where're you headed?" he asked, reaching for her bag. He kept himself from wincing as he used his bad wrist, but only barely. With a lopsided grin, he handed it to her before stuffing his hands back in his pockets where they belonged.

[Meredith Beckendorf]

Her eyes flashed from his feet to his face, observing him with an expression that betrayed easily her confusion. He was tall, well built, good looking, and .. talking to her. Some of the girls she could pick up while listening were echoing mirrors of jealousy rather than insults. Today was the most interesting first day of school she had ever experienced, and it didn't look like it would result in her leaving the school today. She took her bag from him and slung it over her shoulder, watching him put those hands in his pockets again.

"So.. first day for both of us," She mused, aloud, and shrugged her shoulders, "I'm headed toward my new dorms. Where.. do you come from?" Her Australian accent had been washed out over the past half a year in England, but it was still just hidden underneath the words she spoke. Another whisper from behind her, and Meredith got.. the most evil glint in her eyes. She smiled graciously up at him and pushed those black bangs out of her face, "So, don't take this the wrong way," she paused, remembering his name, "Christian."

She wrapped her arm suddenly around one of his, pulling herself in close to him, She glanced back again, smiling over her shoulder at a rather distressed looking brunette with a big mouth, "You'll find I'm a bit obnoxious, but I'll totally make it worth your while if you don't freak out." The words were spoken very softly as she stared up from beneath those thick, coal eyelashes. Her hips kind of tilted to the side, forcing him to lean down just a bit so she could turn around and plant a very thorough kiss at the corner of his lips.

The chorus of gasps as the crowd moved by almost drowned out the first that she was looking for, but it was irrelevant, since she could see the chick beyond the archway. Today is a good day--granted he doesn't punch me in the gut.

[Christian Chevalier]

"Yep," he agreed, a little bit bemused. It was strange, being as not-very-social as he was, to have suddenly decided to socialize with someone who wore world-hating boots. He wasn't headed toward the dorm, but he did have some bandages in his dorm, so he supposed he could take a detour. After all, saving a trip to the infirmary was always a good thing.

"I'm from France, originally," he said, shrugging. This tended to get people all excited, even though he hadn't lived there for over a decade, so he didn't see the need to tell her that he had lived in England most of his life. "What about you, where are you from?" He glanced at her only to find that she looked a bit like she was going to sock him again. Or maybe like she was going to suck his blood--he wasn't sure with those eyes and that smile. Either way, he lifted an eyebrow in confused.

His instinct told him to back up, but his pride kept him rooted to the spot as she slunk up and over. Really, he should learn not to talk to people that made him antsy because they always proved to be quite volatile. She probably had a knife in her hand and was just getting prepared to bury it into his intestine. As her arm wound around his, he tensed, fully preparing to throw her off when she decided to move in. And the fact that she was speaking only made it seem like she was going to stab him, kidnap him, and rape him. Oh. God.

And then she didn't stab him and, instead, kissed him. Huh. What a turn of events.

It took him a few seconds to realize what was going on, but as soon as he heard the gasps and the jeers and glanced at the direction of Meredith's glance, he sort of picked up on it. And so, out of the kindness of his heart [and perhaps a little bit for the shock factor; after all, she had floored him, lifted him, and then kissed him], he brought one of his sore hands up to her cheek and turned her face to give her a proper kiss.

[Meredith Beckendorf]

From France? He didn't possess most of his accent, if he was from France. But she supposed she had lost most of hers in just six months, so she could forgive that transgression. She held no particular feeling of love for France--matter of fact, the country annoyed her, even. Mostly because she hated hearing little girls spasm over it. So, she opted to just forget he had said it, instead--she was too busy feeling triumphant again. How many guys would just give up the corner of their lips on a newly-met girl's whim? It was an ego booster, a.. power trip. Meredith didn't have a lot of those, so when they came, she grabbed them by both horns, so to speak... little wins were the best kind of triumphs.

She was smiling through that little kiss, her eyes were half-lidded, her entire expression that of a seductress before she felt something strange--a touch of his hand against her cheek, and those brown eyes went wide. He adjusted his head, just a slight tilt while holding her still and those lips pressed flush against hers. Heat rushed to her cheeks, but she didn't show it in her eyes, forcing them to close instead of opening wide. After all, the touch would be wasted if she blew it looking like she was baffled! It's just for show. It's just for show. Nobody like him would kiss someone like her--but he was and ... why was he? They didn't need to kiss for.. well, real is a silly word to apply in a situation that involves tangibles at all, but that was the only adjective she could think of--and it was amazing that she could even think of an adjective at all, or even recognize that the word was an adjective.

Stupid boy--how on earth can you be so marvelously perfect and so serenely imperfect at the same time?

She waited for a moment, after all, she didn't kiss very often. She needed to be careful where her fantasies might take her, though, and chose to end it before he did. After all, she didn't want to seem interested--that would be awkward after that lead in she had pushed. The last thing she wanted to do was have put herself out like an idiot and suddenly seem like she had fallen in love--which, honestly, what kind of idiot falls in love the first day they meet someone?--and so she'd have to force herself not to find him perfect. So, what exactly was wrong with him?

Too blonde. Too abrasive. Too tall. Too attractive. His voice sounds like rough gravel under the rain and he smelled of pine needles. Obviously, nobody like that could ever make her want to share intimacy with them.

... Well, that argument sucked. She removed herself from around his arm in a distracted effort to pick up her back that was already over her shoulder. Instead, she slyly adjusted it, looking like she had become weary of its weight and started to walk forward again, "Come on, then. To my dorm, yeah?" She smiled a coy grin, the touch of blush at the edge of her cheeks disappearing as she stepped forward, walking on her toes instead of stomping, the proper way to walk in heels, minimizing the sound effect for his benefit as a small thank you for his... participation in her charade.

[Christian Chevalier]

It wasn't the best kiss he'd ever had, no, but it certainly wasn't the worst and beggars couldn't really be choosers. After all, he was positive that he had indeed startled her [and everyone around her] and was quite content with that little victory. He had to be careful, as she pulled away, not to reach up and wipe off the vanilla that the black sludge on her lips had left on his, but that would be the anti-affection and would just prove to the onlookers that they really shouldn't have believed what they had just seen.

Just in case they missed her little dormuendo, he slipped his hand down around hers--his engulfed it enough that no finger-lacing was necessary, though the onlookers probably assumed it was going on. His hand was loose enough that it didn't hurt, but he thought he'd best warn her, just in case she got nervous and decided to clutch it. Because he didn't feel like wincing in pain--that was just undignified.

"Damn straight," he said, because this was obviously an appropriate response to her question. Either way, people got the picture that he was responding positively. "And, while you're at it, make sure not to squeeze my hand, alright?" he added, lowering his voice so it didn't carry. He allowed her to lead him, taking care to pay attention to where he was going just in case they happened to pass something of interest.

"So," he said as they walked, letting her decide when they no longer needed to be holding hands. After all, it was Meredith who had the beef with everyone, not him. "You never told me where you were from."

[Meredith Beckendorf]

Meredith took careful note of his favored hand, and left her own hand loose around his. Her fingernails slid across his skin just barely, a fine touch as she walked. Her other hand kept returning to her hair, and she led him a roundabout way. She knew by the map they had given her that the way she was leading him wasn't the correct way, but she wanted to get out of the direct view of everyone, "Hm? Oh. I moved from Australia when I got adopted." She said it nonchalantly, as if it wasn't worth much mention at all. She finally twisted around a corner with him and removed her hand idly from his own, pulling it up to her chest as if she might be rescuing it shyly from herself.. or coveting the moment, one of the two.

She glanced with big brown eyes back over her shoulder and bit her lower lip, then slowly allowed herself to loosen and smile, "Thanks. That was.. well, most people would have cried like a little girl." She laughed as she continued to walk forward, holding her head high and grinning like a Cheshire cat. From here, they could take the practically empty halls to the dorm rooms--she was glad she had guessed right; very few kids were stalking near the classrooms before they had to be, which left this area to them.

Christian was an interesting name for a guy who had just kissed her in an act to dishearten the masses. I wonder if he realizes that might follow him pretty bad for the rest of the year. She didn't care. After all, if they didn't hit it off, she could just as easily sabotage him as he could do to her, and she was well-practiced in verbal warfare, and while he was surprising, she was fairly certain that he didn't have as much practice in her home court as she did.

[Christian Chevalier]

He didn't particularly mind holding her hand because it was her hand, but contact like that, after too long, sort of made him a bit anxious. He was, after all, a guy and any unnecessary affection was...well...unnecessary. So he wasn't really all torn up when she finally removed her hand and, unlike her [who seemed to be worshiping the skin that his touched--but who wouldn't?], stuck his hand back into his pocket.

"Australia, eh?" he asked, snorting. "And how long ago was that? I've lived in England for awhile." She didn't really look Australian. Of course, he couldn't really make those sorts of judgments, because obviously not all people from one country could be tanned blonde babes with cool accents. That was just his mind talking.

At her little girl comment, he frowned and turned to look at her, his pride a teensy bit wounded. Had she seen his muscles? Had she seen his face? Clearly, all of these facts had eluded her and he now scoffed.

"I don't cry," he said, taking his better hand from his pocket and gesturing to himself as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. "And how do you know that I didn't want to get back at them just as much as you did?" He didn't, obviously, but that was not the point at hand, here. "...Why did you want to anyway?"

He did realize, of course, that the fact that he was siding with the girl that everyone so clearly hated might have been a problem with his own standing, but whatever. It wasn't like he couldn't beat the shit out of anyone who so chose to voice that problem.

[Meredith Beckendorf]

The doors were passing them pretty rapidly. She had a quick gait and he had a long one, so they were making time that Meredith hadn't really expected to make. She walked staring at her feet--it was a bad habit, something she needed to break herself of, but it seemed like her eyes just naturally drifted downward, "I moved here about six months ago." She didn't quite realize that the information might be shocking--adopted at 14 was pretty weird. Apparently, though, a lot of facts eluded Meredith as she glanced over her shoulder to check behind them, and ran smack dab into him when he rounded about to look at her and slowed the quick gait again.

She hadn't realized how tall he was until she had her nose against his ribcage. Standing straight up, the top of her head came to his nose--and she was wearing heels! God, he was huge. She stepped back from him and rubbed her nose a moment with her hand and sighed, shaking her head, "There's nothing wrong with crying--I thought people grew out of that specific gender-role crap." She quirked an eyebrow at him, staring up at him through her lashes before he distracted her again.

"Some girl was making fun of me for not being her ... specific body type." She shrugged a shoulder, looking a little nervous. If he dared to tell her that it wasn't cause enough to be pissed off, she was going to kick him instead of punch him this time, and she was the perfect height to put her knee right between his legs. Her thoughts brought her eyes to his legs, checking his stance briefly. He had his legs just wide enough that his crotch was accessible if she was fast--and she could be fast. Her eyes traveled back up to his eyes and she grinned a mischievous smile again.

Huh. You know, I bet he is even better looking naked...

[Christian Chevalier]

"Six months ago?" he repeated, lifting an eyebrow. That was a fairly short time to have lost an accent in as opposed to his own twelve years in being here. He'd practically been raised english [though he was, to be fair, quite fluent in French]. He didn't really make the adopted-at-14 connection, mostly because he hadn't really grasped that concept the first time she'd said it.

But his musing was cut short as she was suddenly nose-to-chest with him. His eyebrows flew up as he glanced down, smirking. "Once wasn't enough?" Though she had moved by this point, he was still smirking a bit. When she brought up the crying, however, he stopped and frowned. Clearly, she was delusional or she wouldn't be saying such things to someone who was so obviously extremely masculine.

"It has nothing to do with gender-role," he said, rolling his eyes. "I just don't cry. Period. End of story." He shook his head at her, starting forward toward the dorms again. They walked a bit and he listened, making a little bit of a face at what she declared to be the girl's crime. Honestly, did it matter what skinny little twits thought?

"Sooo, why'd you punch me instead of them?" he asked, snorting a bit. Not that he minded--while his wrists did throb a bit still, it wasn't all too bad. And his dignity hadn't suffered too much since anyone watching could see that he just hadn't bothered to defend himself against the onslaught.

"Ehh, it doesn't matter," he said, shrugging as they reached the dorm, kind of wanting to get some medical attention to his hands. "I'm gonna go check my wrists out. See you at dinner?" He gave her an expectant sort of look.

[Meredith Beckendorf]

"What the heck does that mean? 'Once wasn't enough'?" She glowered at him a moment--how self-important could he be? She was beginning to feel like he was looking down upon her, and condescension irritated the crap right out of her. She put her hands on her hips and straightened her stance up to look up at him, but before she could explain to him how obnoxious he sounded, but he veered off the subject again. This conversation was pretty quick.

"Fine, fine! You don't cry. Obviously" She rolled those big brown eyes and forgot the issue at hand. Obnoxious he was, but she could live with that, she supposed. He was funny, and he was pretty attractive--obviously. "I punched you because you were an obnoxious twat." She said, simply, and stuck her tongue out. The dorm was coming into view, and she turned to say her goodbyes when he once again shut her mouth mid-sentence.

... Dinner? "... Yeah. Sure. See you then."

As they both went their opposite directions, Meredith took another glance over her shoulder at his retreating blonde head. She had no idea what had just happened, but it was going to effect the rest of her stay here at Somnium.

Who ever thought anyone like Christian could mesh so well with someone like Meredith?