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Post by Stanislav Kovac on Jan 13, 2017 18:15:17 GMT -6
Stanislav was many things, tall, for example, grumpy, patient, proud for sure. Tolerant of fools was not one of them. It was for this reason he couldn’t help but smile wistfully as he reflected on what lead him to this moment. It was advanced Grimm anatomy, often dismissed by students who simply wanted to make holes in the beasts until they stopped moving, why should knowing what muscle links to what bone matter to them? Stan could sympathise with this view point, but it didn’t mean he agreed with it. Instead he often retorted that a proper hunter would only need one blow if he knew where to strike. Evidently the student in question took offence to this comment. The young hunter was able to surmise this because that student gathered a few friends and cornered him after class. He wasn’t offended that the student had attempted to outnumber him four to one, after all it's not like he expected weaselly shits such as himself to be brave about these sorts of things The student in question was a rake thin creature, hairline already creeping backwards at age 20, with what little remaining resembling an oil slick. Again Stanislav was not offended by his lack of self-respect or general unkemptness, with that ridiculous bum-fluff on his lip that he called a moustache, he accepted that student was lacking in both when he first met him after all. It was for this reason that he had initially genuinely tried to disarm the situation, apologising sincerely for insulting his intellect, admitting it was insensitive to insult the differently abled, more so if they were the product of tight-nit incest. Evidently at some point he must have misspoke, because the student began to say rather terrible things. Stanislav was ready to forgive and forget, until the student made one grave error: He called Stanislav Kovac, son of Ödi Kovac, a bastard. This offended Stanislav. So, like any proud member of the Kovac family would have, he took the student by the neck and threw him through the drywall. Then the student fell down a flight of stairs. Then he slipped on a pool of his own blood and managed to slam himself on his own head. Some students had said that that the pool appeared after Stanislav had suplexed him and stomped on his head repeatedly. Stanislav reassured them that they were mistaken, to which they agreed and withdrew their statements. He didn’t try and protest when the disciplinary forces arrived at the scene to take him away. Not like they did anything wrong, he did savagely beat a student a moment ago after all, he shouldn’t get off scot-free, he concluded as he waited for their arrival. In fact he took the opportunity to catch up on his book, an insightful piece about cycles of violence and what makes people more prone to violence. The irony was not lost on him. And now he was here, sat inside the head counselor's office, ready to accept whatever punishment she chose for him, floggings, detentions, come what may he was ready. He kept his head held high, taking the time he had to redo the braid that had come undone during the fight. He kept the unruly grey mass long as a reminder of his heritage, the Kovac line had originated in the far North, and while Stanislav had the look of a true Setekian about him, with olive skin and almond shaped eyes, with long dark lashes that were almost feminine, the silken grey hair was a lasting symbol of his roots, his one source of pride. The trade off for this little badge of honour, was that it was constantly in his way unless tightly tied away, it was actually one of the few reasons he was glad he had so many sisters back at home. Noisy as they were, they had their uses, teasing aside they were the ones that taught him to keep the unrully mess under control. Who’s taking care of the workshop now? By now Sev's probably already sharing Dad's office. He started to wonder, I really loved that worksh- his train of thought was interrupted as someone grabbed the handle of the door, before it swung open. Agnès BelroseMinette Belrose |
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Post by Minette Belrose on Jan 17, 2017 6:06:47 GMT -6
► Minette Belrose  577 words heck | It just seemed to be one thing after another this week.
Minette Belrose, the Assistant Headmaster who was standing in for the actual Headmaster in his continued absence, sat behind the glass-top oak desk in her office with her head in her hands and her fingers pressed forcefully into the side of her cranium. Piles of paperwork on either side of her, along with a plethora of digital forms to fill and sort and various phone calls to make, had bore down on her with a kind of stress that she had never felt before. She hadn't expected this job to be easy or simple, she'd learned her lesson coming in as a teacher, after all, but doing the work of two and a half people was another story entirely. She had the patience of a saint, but about as much mental energy as any other living being in the world - this was simply too much work for her to do on her own. But who could she ask? All of the others were busy as well - having the highest authority on the isl;and disappear with zero explanation tended to leave some gaps in the woodwork, after all. And who better to start patching those holes than the second highest authority?
A chair squeaked a little ways away, and she was reminded of the room's other occupant - a red-haired cat Faunus who was currently sitting with her arm draped across the back of the wooden chair, and her foot resting against the edge of the desk for leverage as she leaned the chair back precariously. Her daughter was certainly many things, but it seemed that "even-tempered" had not been one of them. She was fine with her daughter defending herself, to think otherwise would somewhat defeat the purpose of teaching her how to even fight in the first place, but...breaking someone's nose over something as small as an insult? She had raised her daughter better than that.
"Feet off the desk, please." She didn't look up, but the chair ceased its creaking and its front legs landed with a loud thud against the floor. Minette cringed as the sound reached her ears, and though she couldn't see it, she could tell Agnès was smirking. The intercom on her desk buzzed to life, and she pressed the button for the front desk without even looking. Nobody else ever called, anyway. She let out a weary sigh and answered with a simple "Yes?" before releasing the button. A voice came back through, "Kovac, Stanislav. Involved in a fight." Why today? Why was everything going so wrong today? She pressed the button again and belted out a quick "Okay" before dragging herself out of the comfort of the leather executive chair and to the door.
With a little more force than was likely necessary, she turned the handle and threw open the door to her office. Just beside it, sitting on one of the chairs, was a rather tall young man she couldn't recall having seen before. She gave him a tired look, and stepped aside before rubbing her eyes and pointing a thumb to the inside of the office. "Go in and have a seat. I'll be a moment." She made no move to actually leave, but she moved from the doorway afterwards and over to a small table nearby, to grab a cup of cold water to hopefully calm herself a bit.
It didn't help.
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Post by Stanislav Kovac on Jan 17, 2017 14:26:34 GMT -6
[attr="class","ohlove"] The wind is blowing Freedom soon will come
Stanislav was used to the typical image of a Whip, jackbooted brick-bruising thuggish sorts, the kind that kicked the lights out of kids in school, and figured they wanted to get paid for it after they left. So when the door opened to reveal a… what was the word? Junoesque? Woman he was caught of guard for two reasons: for a start she didn’t fit the typical profile, and more importantly she was slightly larger than him. Well perhaps not larger, he was still broader and the shoulder, but this was the first time he’d had to angle his neck upwards to make eye contact. A disconcerting experience he’d rather never repeat, he briefly considered if he could get away with wearing a larger heel next time they met, but dismissed it as rather childish. He couldn’t help but notice the fact she was a faunas as he looked up and down, very progressive of Vytal. He noted, keeping the indistinct mix of shock and mild concern off his face, his stoic visage mastered through years of apathy and suppressed annoyance. He had nothing against faunas of course, it was simply that he could never really see them as human, he prefered to keep his interaction with them brief and awkward as a result.
“Thank you ma’am.” He said, stepping past her and into the office. In spite of his distaste at the situation, she’d done him no wrong, and it could never hurt to be polite. And that’s when he saw her: Agnes, the reason why he drank, or he would hypothetically if it were legal. The fact that he kept a bottle of cognac under his bed was entirely hearsay and no one could prove otherwise. Regarding her the same way one might a small tire fire, warily and at a safe distance, he made a deliberate effort to sit outside of arm's reach of her, and to prevent her from being directly behind him. “So what do they have you in for? I was unaware they’d made foul moods against the rules here.” He said, throwing out the customary jab, before waiting for retort. In truth he was a little tired to be bickering back and forth today, but still, traditions had to be maintained. He was fairly sure their relationship had turned from intense animosity to more of a mutual agreement that they wouldn’t try and get along, but to keep the conflicts to a dull roar.
As Kovac was waiting for the Whip to return, he couldn’t help but notice the similarities between the Whip and Agnes, he couldn’t help but notice the similarity. Cat faunas aside (Stanislav didn’t know the precise ins and outs of felids, but he was fairly sure the breed was Maine Coon), the height, jaw, and cheekbones couldn’t be pure coincidence. He quietly decided to file this little realisation into some dusty corner of his brain, curious as it was, he couldn’t do much with it. Others might have used it as ammunition in their little cold war, but frankly it seemed to harsh. He didn’t know the working details of their relationship, and while it would certainly get under her skin for him to bring it up, that wasn’t what he wanted. Their relationship had been incredibly bitter until it recently cooled down, what possible reason could he have to reignite that conflict? No, better to just ignore it unless one of them mentioned.
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Post by Agnès Belrose on Jan 24, 2017 21:03:47 GMT -6
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She heard his entry before she was bothered enough by the thudding din of his heavy footsteps to turn her head towards the door. Oh great. This guy again. She clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes, and went right back to leaning in her chair with her feet up against the headmaster's desk. She was neither apologetic for the breaking of that dumb bastard's face after he'd called her a name she didn't dare repeat in such close proximity to her mother (both for fear of a lecture about how "unladylike" she was being, and for fear that she would seek out the boy herself and give him a far worse beating), nor was she apologetic for inconveniencing Minette in such a way. 'Oh wait, its Professor Belrose now, isn't it? Pff.'
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The room's other occupant had a seat a ways away from her, and fired off some quality banter to get the ball rolling. Such was this little game, she mused. She stretched and let out an exaggerated yawn that sounded suspiciously close to a cat's mewl. This was entirely intentional. She draped an arm across the back of her leaning chair and shot a look of blatant indifference towards Kovac. "Ha ha, like you're in any position to talk about bad moods." Her head tilted, and she grinned smugly. "Hell, I'd bet you're in here more than I am."
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Kovac was somewhat of an oddity to her. She couldn't even remember where or how it had begun, but as far back as she could recall the two of them had thrown words back and forth like a pair of dispassionate middle-schoolers. It was a strange, but appreciated change of pace from the day-to-day trials she was subjected to ad the hands of the school's male population, mostly consisting of catcalls, unwanted solicitations, and- well, the thing she was here for today. The walking talking garbage heaps that couldn't keep their hands off and their mouths shut. This guy, though, he was different. She treated him different too. It made her head hurt a bit trying to boil their relationship down to one word, but the closest thing she could come up with was "rivals" - and even that was inaccurate.
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"You first, though. Someone tug on your ponytail or somethin'?"
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Post by Stanislav Kovac on Jan 25, 2017 15:49:32 GMT -6
[attr="class","ohlove"] The wind is blowing Freedom soon will come
If Stanislav had to put their relationship into words, he’d say he wanted to compete with her. Not that it was that simple of course. He didn’t care about the victory itself, or even if he lost it was the simple head to head conflict. Hell, even when they worked together it was closer to a zero-sum-competition than cooperation, an arms race to a mutual goal. A shame she was on poor form today really, her retort would be good if they had only just met perhaps, but it was a well known fact he didn’t really care about his appearance, as usual he would have to give her a demonstration. Step one, shrug off insult He noted off in his head, offering a strong exhaltion from his nose in reply to the jab, before smirking and craning his neck to look at her step two, contradict “I actually am one to talk about your bad mood.” He said with a thin smile, as well-crafted and cutting as any sword, as he wiggled his middle and index above his head roughly where his ears would be if her shared Agnes's faunas trait, Step three, fluster. “You see, your ear twitches when you’re annoyed.” finally, use her loathing of you against her. Sickly sweet compliment. “It’s adorable really, if I didn’t already know you were an ornery old so-and-so, I might dare say it's endearing.” The ear twitching was a closer to a hypothesis than anything else, but she didn’t know that, and besides, this would be a perfect time to test out his theory.
Thankful for his safe distance, as well as the additional chair between him and her, he widened his smile to the point of almost beaming, before turning to face the Whip’s desk again. Continuing to work with his hair, pulling hoards and hoards of pins, grips, clips and ties from where they were fastened on his wrist and sleeve. After a moment he shot her a glance, before rolling his eyes and turning his attention back to the board, “I’ll satisfy your curiosity before it becomes the death of you.” Subtle jab at faunas heritage, risky territory. He said in a playful tone, wanting to keep the mood light still. “I got into a bit of a kerfuffle over a disagreement. He thought he could insult my family, I thought the drywall was a little bit brittle. So after a bit of spirited debate we finally came to the conclusion that he couldn’t insult the kin, and that the drywall actually needed quite a bit of force to throw someone through. I think the disciplinary board misunderstood the nature of the exchange though.” He offered an apologetic smile and exaggerated shrug, “But what can you do, eh?”
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Post by Agnès Belrose on Feb 28, 2017 3:18:35 GMT -6
[nospaces] [attr="class","biggie"] [attr="class","textie"][break][break]
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She scoffed lightly, and turned the chair so she was kneeling on it, with her arms resting on the back, facing him. In truth, she'd been a little off her game as of late - probably something to do with the fact she wasn't getting as much sleep as she usually did. Midterms loomed on the horizon, and she'd been slacking pretty hard in Grimm Studies - a class she couldn't afford to fail. It wasn't her fault the work was tedious and completely unengaging. Still though, her comebacks had always been stronger than her openers. "Aw, you're paying such close attention to me?" She rested her head atop her hands, doing her best to look sweet and innocent. "That's so sweet, I didn't know you were interested~!"
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She let the comment about her ears slide. Funny he mentioned it though, her mom did the same thing when she was upset. She sat and listened as he recounted his tale of hubris and woe, and of an asskicking rightly deserved and delivered. It warmed her heart to hear about the people around the school talking crap and promptly getting their faces smashed in by someone who, weirdly enough, actually knew how to put up a decent fight. It was almost like they were at a combat school or something. "What a righteous and just man you are indeed my good sir, throwing teenagers through walls." She flipped the chair back and slumped into it, leaning back and stretching her legs with a hand held to her cheek in a mocking dramatic pose. "But alas! It seems we are both but poor, suffering paragons of virtue amongst a sea of honorless heathens that seek only to sully our good names! Truly there is no crueler fate." Her posture slumped further, her arms dangling at her sides and her head leaned back to stare up at the ceiling. "Actually I guess there is. Apparently being punched square in the nose by a metal fist hurts quite a bit. A guy named Trevor helped me learn that valuable lesson today, it's a shame I never got to properly thank him."
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Post by Stanislav Kovac on Feb 28, 2017 15:14:05 GMT -6
[attr="class","ohlove"] The wind is blowing Freedom soon will come
While he never blushed, a trained eye might have noticed he was caught off guard for a moment by her retort. But no sooner had she finished talking did he reply, “Indeed, like a car crash, or a particularly mangled corpse I simply cannot find in myself to pry my eyes away from you.” He replied, spitting sweet venom back at her. This was more like it, she was actually putting up a proper fight, if they didn’t have things to do today, namely be on the receiving end of some sort of punishment, chances are they would banter back and forth like this for hours. In fact last time they had gotten into such an engagement, he had started off clean shaven, but had finished sporting a five o’clock shadow. Steady yourself there Kovac, you might end up actually liking the girl if you keep this up. He teased himself, letting a small smirk cross his lips as he did.
Once again he shrugged as she mentioned his beating of the fellow student, “Says the teenager to the teenager.” He added in a dismissive tone, before leaning forwards, “Besides, you know as well as I, it’s the right and proper thing to forgive a slap across your own cheek, but an insult to your kin requires, no, demands correction. However, the school still has a right to enforce some semblance of order here, can’t have people fighting blood feuds and what not, it’d probably get in the way of studying.” He was about to continue when she mentioned Trevor, the Arsehole. “Well, I’d say he probably had it coming, but knowing Trevor, the Arsehole, he almost certainly did. So was it the clothes or the fact that you’re a gir-woman?” He caught himself before he could call her “Girl”, switching from sarcasm to sincerity back and forth so often left him prone to dropping demeaning words without meaning to. A habit he was getting over, but not nearly fast enough.
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