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 Concrete Jungle Where Dreams are Made Of (Elenore & The Harrington Boy)

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Elenore Clement
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PostSubject: Concrete Jungle Where Dreams are Made Of (Elenore & The Harrington Boy)   Sun Dec 23, 2018 8:41 pm

The euphoria of being free had lasted all of twenty seven hours. Upon arriving from the Palace Elenore had arrived very early in the morning in New York to find herself in an apartment more than big enough for her single occupancy. The views across the city were vast, varied with their views across Central Park, and then out across the cityscape in the other directions. The views were... not breathtaking. America was not beautiful, it lacked history, and all of the buildings around were garishly big, and had no imagination in their design.

But it was different.

It did not bare any resemblance to home.

And that, in itself, was what had made the young witch much happier as she instructed the staff on how she wanted her things organised around the penthouse. The Grand Piano had been the first addition, and it brought out the character, Elenore believed, in the room as everything else was set out around it. It had taken a few hours to get everything sorted, and then one by one the staff disappeared. Back to France, or else to their own rooms below, or to the shops to stock the fridges of the new apartment. Elenore didn't care to ask, and so she hadn't.

Silence had filled the apartment for the most part, but far below the witch, some of the noise from the city came in through the slightly opened windows that were allowing a cool breeze to circulate the rooms in the building, trying to keep it cooler in the summer heat. Elenore's intentions had not been to explore the first day, as she looked across the vast expanse of the city, she didn't feel quite ready to brave this new urban minefield, and so she turned away from the windows and back to her piano, gently pushing the lid up from the keys the witch sat carefully in the middle of the bench as her slender fingers deftly found the keys she needed to play.

The melody that left the instrument was one that Elenore had practiced a million times before, a song that she had always seen as the sound of a new beginning, a song that sounded hopeful, in a manner, but one that had an underlying sense of the person playing was not coming in to the world new. Perhaps somewhat broken, but now on the mend, the witch had believed whenever she listened, but it was by no means any less beautiful to the Clement witch, just because it wasn't completely up beat didn't mean it wasn't happy. Chopin's Sping Waltz was just a beautiful piece that fit the moment, and as Elenore played, she felt herself relax in to the new setting that she'd found herself in.

The day had been spent before the piano, Elenore hadn't stopped until her personal chef had politely interrupted her at the end of another piece she'd been playing to announce dinner being served, and as Elenore rose from the piano, she knew she'd spent too long with her favourite instrument as her body complained having been sat in the same place for so long, her fingers revelling in the break they'd now been allowed.

Dinner had been no different from the Palace, the five courses being served to perfection by the witch's personal staff. But there had been no conversation at the table that evening, the silence that ensued now that the piano had fallen silent seemed to consume the room. Elenore had given in by the end of the fourth course, knowing that she couldn't stomach more food, and had sent all the staff except for her Lady's maid away. After bathing and changing for bed, Elenore had dismissed the last of her staff too, taking her new study books with her as she climbed in to her new bed.

After reading through several chapters, Elenore had settled down in the bed which... for the first time ever in her life was not a four poster bed.

If the witch had believed sleep would come easily, she had been wrong. For no matter how hard she might try, Elenore could not settle. Whether the sound of the traffic below was real, or imagined, the witch could never have said, and as the many billboards of the city changed, Elenore had convinced herself she could see each of the signs moving on the curtains. Sleep came fitfully for the witch, images being thrown up as she slept of things the witch would never admit to, until, finally, the sun roused the witch from her sleep, leaving her no better refreshed than she had been the night before.

The next day, Elenore had set out to go through the city. How different could it be from Paris, really? They were both important cities in the world, so surely it wouldn't be vastly different?

Elenore had been wrong in her assumption, she found. Where Paris was beautiful, friendly, familiar... New York was dirty, unfriendly to the new faces of its streets and Elenore had found the experience all too much, in truth. The way people hurried around, shoving in to you as you walked if you happened to look off somewhere else and not where you were walking... Elenore had moved aside with her Lady's maid in that moment, seeking refuge in a door way of one of the office buildings that they were about to pass to catch her breath.

"You look pale, m'lady..." The witch beside her had offered as Elenore's eyes darted this way and that, trying to take everything in, and understand... Get her bearings...

"I'm fine," Elenore replied curtly, trying to shake off the older witch's concerned look, but Elenore's features briefly contorted when she realised why she felt more than a little nauseous in that moment. The smell that had touched her senses was one that she had only experienced in the mildest of forms when the boy's at Hogwarts had seen fit to make their bathrooms flood as jokes. Here, though, the smell... "I think we should head home." Elenore added, though and the witch beside her nodded, guiding her back down the road where they had come.

The notion of finding the tube stations of the City, of finding Times Square, the University, were forgotten for the day, and Elenore returned to her penthouse, to her grand piano, which brought her solace from the world as she picked up from where she'd left off the day before.

Trying very, very hard to dispel the notion that coming to America had not-

For the following week, Elenore had repeated the process of finding her way through the city, enduring as much as she could, and ignoring how the city made her feel sick when she entered it from the sheer smell of too many humans being in one place, because, for Elenore, it did not occur to her what the real reason for the stench would really be.

Julliards had been found, though, and it seemed easy enough to navigate to, Elenore assured herself the night before her first day at the school. Tomorrow was going to be just fine. As much as Elenore wanted to believe that, though, the witch's stomach kept her awake all night as it twisted in the most agonising of manners, reminding Elenore again and again that tomorrow was going to be something new. She was going to have to find her way around the campus, meet her peers, learn how to deal with the luncheons that would be offered from the school...

Sleep came fitfully for the witch, and as she was awoken the next morning, Elenore sat through her dressing without looking at herself in the mirror. She trusted her Lady's maid fully, and only the most sweeping of glances at her attire, and a soft nod of appreciation to the witch denoted her approval. Breakfast had been kept simple, and after collecting her bag for the day, Elenore had left on her own for the campus.

Following the same route to the university once more, Elenore couldn't help but cast a look over her shoulder as she turned the corner for university, almost sure she could feel eyes upon her as she moved... Don't be silly, Elenore chastised herself as she looked forward once more, narrowly missing a group of Asian boys passing in the opposite direction who said something she didn't catch -- or possibly understand -- before she hurried on. Nobody cares that you're here.

The morning's orientation was a welcome relief as Elenore followed her classmates around the campus to find out which buildings she would need to be going in to, where she would find the recording rooms, where the music rooms were, where the composers grouped together to work, where she would be able to find snacks if she wished, or else where the cafeteria was. All of it was vastly helpful, but as they walked around, Elenore noted how almost everyone had already paired off -- as a minimum -- except for herself. Perhaps they came from other schools together? It wasn't exactly likely anyone from Hogwarts would be here, the only person who had shared her love for music had been Nerisei.

And even Nerisei had only spent time with her to get closer to Jacques.

The solitude hadn't bothered Elenore to begin with, in truth, she'd been too engrossed in the tour, and remembering the directions she'd been given to worry about making friends. But as they finished up their first class, everyone had rushed off without her, and Elenore had to hurry to keep them in view. The girls up ahead seemed to already have their lunches as they decided to take up the picnic bench in the main quad area of the university, though rather than sitting upon the bench in a ladylike fashion, Elenore watched as they instead used the table as the bench, and the bench as footrests. Undeterred, though, Elenore moved over to the girls, pushing a hopeful smile upon her lips.

"Bonjour," Elenore greeted, hoping to build the idea without admitting that she was new to the country, and in need of the friendship of the girls in her class to see her through. "My name is Elenore, Elenore Clement, I was hoping... I was hoping that we could have lunch together?"

"What is this, kindergarten?" One of the witch's replied, her hair had been streaked with a soft blue which made the black hair seemingly shimmer in the light. It earned a laugh from the other girls around her, and Elenore's cheeks warmed gently with mild embarrassment for her choice of words when it had come to the situation.

"I just..."

"Oh, come on, Frenchie, relax!" The blonde witch beside the first insisted, still amused with Elenore's mannerisms in that moment, which only made the French witch feel more self-conscious in that moment.

"Don't worry," Elenore replied softly, moving off from the table as the realisation hit in that moment. Her name... meant nothing here. The people she had just spoken to had not noticed her name, nor connected the name and the French together. What kind of world didn't know a Clement when they saw one? Why did they not understand? She was Elenore Lissette Clement... of the Palace of Versailles...

But that meant nothing.

"Don't mention it, Frenchie!"

The heckle after her didn't make Elenore speed up from her usual steps, but her heart hammered in her chest, until she had made it out of view of the girls in her class, and only then did Elenore lean momentarily against the wall, taking in deep breaths as she covered her mouth, trying her very best to recompose herself.

She could do this.

She had to do this.

There was no longer the luxury of choice.




Elenore's Penthouse

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Mimosa Harrington
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PostSubject: Re: Concrete Jungle Where Dreams are Made Of (Elenore & The Harrington Boy)   Wed Dec 26, 2018 9:50 pm


Kevin Harrington-Royce


This wasn't his first trip to New York, nor his most extended but right now, leaving the UK at such a precarious time felt... wrong. As the redhead glanced into the mirror on the morning of his orientation day, he couldn't help but think the city had washed him out despite only having been here a week. When he had found out Julliard was willing to accept him despite his last minute application, no background in academic writing and his clear age gap with the other students, the man had no doubt his family's wealth and influence had come into play. A letter addressed to a Mr. K Harrington-Royce had found its way to him English home and so the plan had been set into motion.

Running away felt almost second nature really, he reflected as he reached for the single comb he owned, contemplating using it on the usually straight auburn locks before discarding both the object and the idea. He had washed his face in what passed for a basin, he had changed into one of his non muddy jeans and had even gone the extra mile by putting on a dress shirt instead of the T shirt he would have preferred. The way the new student saw it, he had plenty of time to ruin any image he happened to create on the first day.

A dual masters in stage directing and play writing had been his first choice when it come to enrollment in what passed as the finest Arts school in the world. Until a stiff lady at the admissions counseling series had informed him of the criteria. Clearly the hag had judged him on his laid back voice and lack of pre-researched knowledge aimed to impress unimportant people like her. So against his better judgement, the wizard had dropped his name and asked to speak to the Dean of the Faculty of which she wasn't even an employee because she would never meet the criteria. Fifteen minutes later, he was being assured that he simply had to fill out the paperwork and his case would be fast tracked.

Real Estate in New York was a bitch, everyone knew that. But thanks to his own resourceful nature, the redhead had managed to obtain ground level space a mere five minute walk from campus. Every time he thought of his accommodation, a proud grin stretched his young face, making him look slightly younger than his twenty five years. "Ello' Maurice," the Harrington called out as he exited his humble abode, greeting the man who acted as both his door man and constant companion. Maurice touched his cap politely, choosing to stay silent otherwise.

The morning was brisk, cold smoky New York fug mixing with the stench of fresh urine and regular vehicular belches of oil and carbon monoxide. One didn't need to smoke in New York to die from lung cancer, the youth thought as his right hand itched automatically for a cigarette that wasn't there. Among the many habits he'd had to leave behind in England was smoking, and some nights he missed it sorely.

Arriving at campus just in the nick of time (or two minutes late, but they hadn't started so what was the difference anyway), the man picked up his tag, clipping it to his shirt for the world to see and ignore Kevin Harrington as he disappeared in a crowd not much like him but accepting nonetheless - especially as the tag was removed fifteen minutes in. He'd always been a people's person, so despite the fact that orientation was dominated by people in their late teens or very early twenties, Kevin still found a way to fit in. He did so by not trying because unlike the creme de le creme of the world gathered in these hallowed halls, he couldn't care less.

No one paid him much mind, not even when he walked over to join their group, keeping both his opinons and attitude to himself. In his experience, people let you hang around if they could ignore you for the most part. It was only when you tried to impress and went noticed that the trouble started. His philosophy had served him well in life and by the time it was lunch, he was already seated on the Quad grass in a ring of a dozen or so students while a blonde passed around cookies she claimed were "homemade".

Taking a bite of the oatmeal raisin confection he had picked from the tupperware being passed around the circle, the redhead closed his eyes blissfully. He'll have to get the blonde's number before the day was through, or the number of her dealer if he could. This shit was amazing! Chasing it down with a drink from his personal flask, the man decided not to indulge in more mind altering substances and instead people watch. After all, he was here for just that. And it would do him good to identify who to avoid and who to antagonize from the get go.

He hadn't been to a proper school setting in years but very few things ever changed in educational institutions. You had your jocks, your geeks, your nerds, your douches and then... His eyes fell upon the girl in the mulberry dress. He'd never had any gifts in initiation but the redhead saw clearly what was going to happen as she approached a bench of the aspiring populars introducing herself as if she'd stepped out of a finishing school back in the UK. He was too far away to hear exactly what was said between the girls but by the way Mulberry Dress walked off, he guessed it wasn't good.

Which truly sucked.

Kevin Harrington had really hoped to go unnoticed on his first day, heck even his first week. He had absolutely no problem cultivating a nonexistent reputation that would see him through the entirety of his three year course. But promise or no promise, he couldn't just watch a girl in distress and not do anything about it. Hopefully the man glanced around his circle, praying that everyone would be too busy to notice him stand up and leave. Sadly the cookie had mellowed everyone out too much for conversation and in fact developed them into separate beings of a group focus. If he left now, everyone would notice, and his ambitions of being nobody would be dashed on the very first day.

Reaching for his flask and taking a gulp of liquid courage, the twenty five year old redhead internally cursed and swung clumsily up to his feet, knocking a foot into the person beside him and earning a slightly dazed "hey!" before he was off and away, leaving a distinctly blank space in the ring of people on the ground.

He couldn't remember the last time  he had actually properly run outside of exercise, so Kevin almost winded himself with his speed as he hastened to catch up with Mulberry Dress. He slowed down as he watched her lean against a wall, trying to either catch her breath or stop the tears from flowing. She looked about twelve in that position, in her mother's dress and trying to impress a bunch of people who had no time for her.

She was the try too hard kind, and it would not serve her well in life.

Walking up slowly and with plenty of noise behind her, Kevin stopped a few feet away. "This wall taken?" he asked politely, gesturing to the other end of the exposed brick against which the young woman now stood. "The other kids were mean to me so I came out here," he added in hopes of coaxing a smile from the witch.

"Kevin," he introduced himself when he had her attention, choosing to leave out his last name because where was the fun in that. "Would you like a home made cookie?"  

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PostSubject: Re: Concrete Jungle Where Dreams are Made Of (Elenore & The Harrington Boy)   Sat Dec 29, 2018 8:10 am

The time Elenore had been allowed to herself was not enough, not enough by a long shot. The slow process of recomposing herself had been rudely interrupted by someone else, meaning it had to be cut short, her hand moving carefully away from her face as she straightened herself up from the wall enough to be proper once more. Her hands rested neatly together before the witch as she turned to look who was speaking to her in that moment.

"Non," the witch replied, falling in to French without realising it because she was more than a little bit overwhelmed in that moment. But, the French witch caught herself, and added. "The wall is free, much like the rest of the country, I hear." Was that a joke? Elenore wasn't sure because it fell flat as it left her lips, her eyes averted from the man who had spoken to her because she still wasn't calm enough to be composing conversation in that moment.

Perhaps he would take the hint?

"The other kids were mean to me so I came out here,"

Of course he wouldn't take the hint. Everyone here wouldn't know decorum if it hit them in the face, and Elenore was learning quite quickly that this trip to America was not going to be the fun she had hoped it would be. No smile graced the witch's lips at the man's words. Was he mocking her, she wondered, but chose not to comment, instead turning her bag enough to be able to reach in and find out her timeline. Showing quite clearly that she was not interested in talking to the man who had come up behind her and joined her at the wall. Not right now, at least.

The introduction, though, made Elenore look up at the man. He'd pushed her to the point of conforming to social norms, forcing her to interact because it would be rude of her to ignore the introduction. A single name, though, that was all the man before her offered, and for a moment, Elenore couldn't work out if she should know him. Probably not, with a name like 'Kevin' he was hardly going to be from any of her social circles, was her.

"I'm Elenore Clement," was the response Elenore gave, though instead of trying to use it to her advantage as she had with the girls before, Elenore had used it as an underlying caution to the man. Even if the girls hadn't known the name, even if it meant nothing here, Elenore hoped it would at least have the desired effect of keeping her safe if anyone looked her up. The library here must surely have a book or two on the French history, mustn't it?

Kevin, however, was not done as he offered her a cookie. Homemade? The witch wondered idly for a moment what flavours the cookie might be, was almost about to ask, before she caught herself. She might be hungry, in need of the cafeteria before their lunch break was through, but she was not so hungry as to accept food from people she'd only just met. "No thank you, I was just heading to the cafeteria to find myself some lunch, actually. I wouldn't want to spoil it." She offered politely, but no extension of the conversation came from the witch.

No, Elenore Clement did not open up easily, and Kevin was not about to change that with his nice offering of cookies.

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Mimosa Harrington
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PostSubject: Re: Concrete Jungle Where Dreams are Made Of (Elenore & The Harrington Boy)   Mon Jan 07, 2019 10:12 am

the idea of America being a free country brought a slight smirk to the young man's lips. If Mulberry Dress actually believed that, she was in even more danger than he had initially thought. However it wouldn't do to make ehr thornier than she already was. Seen in just the way she angled herself and spoke with guarded caution, the redhead had seen open electrical wired fences more welcoming than her.

And yet for all her prickliness, she returned his nicety of introduction with ehr own? Was it simply to fulfill a social criteria or was something inside her reaching out desperately to make a connection? The man studied her face for a second, wondering what lay beneath the calm surface, the hesitant facial expression,. She almost looked afraid for some reason, but of what the wizard couldn't be sure.

"Yeah, I'm never gong to be able to remember that," he lied smoothly. Was her name supposed to mean something to him? Did she want it to mean something? Well he hadn't played dirty by giving out his last name so it was only fair she didn't get to use hers either. "I think I'll call you... Tuesday. Its my third favorite day of the week so you really should be honored." Now that was a joke, but whether she would take it as such remained to be seen.

"No thank you, I was just heading to the cafeteria to find myself some lunch, actually. I wouldn't want to spoil it."

"Oh, excellent idea," the youth confirmed, holding out his arms as if steering her forwards to lead the way. "I'm so hungry I could eat a horse. Turns out these home made cookies make you more hungry than full." With that, the man casually fell into step beside her, not giving the witch a chance to interject as they charted a course for the cafeteria. Buying him lunch was the least she could do after he'd gone to all the trouble of discarding his cloak of social invisibility for her sake. "I don't recommend the Chef's Salad though, someone in our pot circle was muttering about worms in the lettuce."

As if to corroborate his story, a pang of hunger ripped through his lean form, confirming that he had mostly skipped breakfast too. Reaching for his flask once again, the redhead took a drink, trying to settle his insides before any actual food was introduced to his system. "What major?" he asked casually, trying to ignore the few still sober eyes on them as they cut across the quad. It was her fault really, not only was Tuesday more beautiful than the average chick but she looked... very different. In a crowd of artsy, ripped jeans, tie dyed t shirts, bleached hair and tattoos, she looked as innocent as a lamb walking through fresh snow.

An open invitation to the wolves.

"Christian Hymn Composition?"

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PostSubject: Re: Concrete Jungle Where Dreams are Made Of (Elenore & The Harrington Boy)   Mon Jan 07, 2019 6:18 pm

The entire notion that the boy would not remember her name was one that Elenore simply could not fathom. It wasn't as if she'd offered him her full title, or even her full name. Just the usual idea of her first and second name, as anyone would offer. So why, then, would the man before her state so openly that he was not going to remember her name? It was... it was just plain rude!

But as if his initial statement had not been offensive enough, Kevin continued on with his explanation that he would call her Tuesday, his third favourite day. They might have only just met, and they might not know anything about one another, but to be labelled third favourite... it was like being back at the Palace all over again. Third out of three was painful enough, but here it was, just another stark reminder that she would never, ever be someone's favourite.

Even with this realisation, though, the Clement witch did not unburden herself from the conversation that she had found herself in. It would be rude, she reminded herself, even if Kevin was being rude to her, she couldn't just walk away from him now.

"I'm sure other women might be," Elenore replied softly, showing that she was not in the slightest bit honoured by the name Kevin had opted to give her, to show it was not a welcome one, in the hope he would sober up, apologise, and not use it again.

Any hope of getting rid of Kevin, though, with the excuse of needing to get lunch was stolen from her as the boy invited himself along for the journey to the cafeteria. Elenore paused for a moment, trying to think of another way out, but retracting her statement of going to the cafeteria would mean that she wouldn't have any lunch, which meant she was going to be much too far past hungry by the time she arrived home, and the thought of having her stomach rumbling through their afternoon classes was enough to make her reconsider. No, she would not be getting rid of the man before her so quickly, so it was best to hurry through the ordeal and get it done with. Moving away from the wall, Elenore set off at her usual pace, highly aware of how Kevin fell in to pace beside her with much too much ease.

He didn't fall quiet, though, instead talking of repulsive ideas of there being worms in the salad. As if any restaurant facility would allow such things. Especially when they were catering to people their age, no, it might not be a Michelin star restaurant, but surely there were health rules around the place. Once again, Elenore offered nothing in reply to the incessant talking of the man beside her, instead trying to think of a way to rid him from her company as soon as possible.

"What major?"

But Kevin kept pushing.

Insisting that she cater to the norms of society that meant she had to reply, or else come across as rude, which of course she didn't wish to be in the slightest. Readying herself with her answer, Elenore was about to answer his question when he asked another. A light crease of a frown touched the witch's features, her eyes moving across to him as she shook her head with the slightest hint of a smile.

"Why would you think that? No, not Christian Hymn Composition." Elenore told him, not understanding why he would pick such a niche area of study without knowing a thing about her. "I'm doing a dual majors in Music Composition and Piano. And what are you going to be studying?"

The return question didn't come with further comment. Elenore could not read anyone here, everyone was so different, so uncultured, so... free to be whatever they wanted to be. It made the whole place terrifying, and yet... she wanted to know more in the same moment, too.

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PostSubject: Re: Concrete Jungle Where Dreams are Made Of (Elenore & The Harrington Boy)   Fri Jan 11, 2019 11:57 am

When Tuesday only made a one sentence reply to the honor he'd bestowed upon her, the redhead didn't take any offense. She was probably having trouble processing everything. And he was here to help so he might as well.

In addition to warning her of the suspect cafeteria food, Kevin also found himself pointing out random things on their way to the eatery. Of course, the places he pointed out wouldn't have been on the official campus tour such as the best place to smoke, to hang out and the places to avoid if you didn't want to get stuck in long lines for the outdoor bathrooms. While the young man too was on his first day of orientation, it paid to travel in a group of people who pooled knowledge as a defense mechanism against feeling like losers on the first day.

"Hmm, Piano and Composition," the man contemplated, gazing at her with fresh eyes. A nerd? Those two majors would keep her out of trouble easily enough since both required being holed up on your own and not meeting others. Now if she'd taken dance or orchestra, that would be worrying. "You know, you look the model church going type," he answered her question offhandedly. If she had any brains at all, Tuesday would have seen by now that she stuck out in her mulberry dress. "Not that there's anything wrong with churches, and girls who frequent them," he grimed as the reached the entrance of the cafeteria.

Ever the gentleman, Kevin reached out to open the glass door for her, before letting himself in and choosing a table towards the back. There was no point salvaging his anonymity now but the youth still preferred a backseat to the going ons of this fine institution. "Remember, no salad," he mouthed as a server drew nearer, pen and paper ready to take their order.

Kevin allowed Tuesday to go first, watching her order her meal with the kind of delicateness that wouldn't be out of place in Bambi as the little thing learned to use its new legs. It was fun really. When the server turned to Kevin, the man simply grinned. "Do you have avocado?"

The server nodded.

"Do you have cheese?"

"We do sir, all kinds."

"How about toast?"

"We can make some."

"Then surprise me, use the ingredients to make something original okay?"

"Very good, Sir," the waiter confirmed with an air of someone who was most definitely going to spit in the redhead's food. It was okay though, Kevin had very little intention of actually eating what was presented to him.

"So Tuesday," he began once the server had left. "What's the plan after this orientation is over? Where do you hang out?"

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PostSubject: Re: Concrete Jungle Where Dreams are Made Of (Elenore & The Harrington Boy)   Fri Jan 11, 2019 3:49 pm

The insistence that she looked like the Church going type of person was not one that Elenore knew how to take, truthfully. Was she being ridiculed by the boy, or was this supposed to be taken like a compliment. The adjustment that there was nothing wrong with Church going girls brought Elenore round to the latter, in the end. It seemed, the right way to interpret what Kevin was saying in the end. "Well, thank you, but no, I'm not a Church going type. My Maman keeps the old gods, actually, but I never saw the point in talking to any of them."

But by the end of that sentence, Elenore had offered enough on the subject, and if pushed for further information, it wouldn't be given. The thought of her Maman had made her close off again, and the witch did not wish to talk on that subject again.

Kevin had shocked the witch when he held the door open for her as they'd come to the cafeteria. For some reason, she hadn't expected him to be so polite, but he had been, and she thanked him gently as she passed before he fell back in to step beside her. Kevin chose the table, towards the back of the cafeteria, and a few moments later a server was by their side. Hurriedly looking over the menu which looked... bland for the most part, and trying to keep in mind what Kevin had already told her of the salad, the witch had opted for the salmon and rice salad -- that wasn't an official salad, if you were truthful -- before Kevin ordered in the most backhanded of manners.

"You know you're probably not going to get what you want if you're not clear with your instructions?" Elenore offered, but she wasn't truly that bothered. If you couldn't be clear in your needs, then it was your own fault that you didn't get what you want in the end.

"So Tuesday,"

"My name is Elenore," the witch corrected softly, but with enough clarity to insist that he really should try harder to use her real name, not a silly nickname he'd plucked out of thin air. Which was definitely not irking her the more she thought about his reasons for giving her the name he had.

"I 'hang out' at my apartment." Elenore replied, opting for his phrase in that moment despite herself. "I'm still not familiar with New York, but I have enough in my apartment to keep myself occupied. Not to mention the forward reading on this terms syllabus so that I'm prepared for our first classes has been keeping me busy. Failing all else, I will practice my piano pieces." The witch provided easily in that moment, undeterred by the fact she would be alone because she was more than used to living in her own company by now.

"What about you?" Elenore asked in return. "Where do you 'hang out'?"

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PostSubject: Re: Concrete Jungle Where Dreams are Made Of (Elenore & The Harrington Boy)   Fri Jan 11, 2019 4:28 pm

"The old Gods?" Kevin asked incredulously, unable to believe his ears for a moment. "As opposed to the newer ones?" Maybe she wasn't a church going kid, but she certainly looked like someone had just released her from a cult. It would certainly explain why she had so much troubling fitting into society, unsure what to do with the free will she was now saddled with.

Tuesday was getting more interesting with every sentence she uttered.

When no further explanation came about talking to the older Gods versus the younger ones, he let it go. Anyway, enough time here and she would only know of one God, and that one didn't age. Instead he watched her order her drab meal and then judge him as he ordered his. Kevin was quite aware of her disapproval, and childishly, he was feeding off of it. Perhaps it was this whole thing, being among people so much younger than him, knowing how some would have their spirits shattered while others would find unwitting success. All this made him feel younger than he had in a long, long time.

"You know you're probably not going to get what you want if you're not clear with your instructions?"

"Don't you ever get tired of getting everything you asked for?" he answered her rebuke with a question of his own, his eyes turning serious for a moment as they pierced through her own. "I sure do, that's why I asked for what I really want now - a surprise. It's a rare and beautiful thing, to be genuinely surprised by something or someone." Of course, he doubted she would understand, she was far too... reserved. Yes, that seemed the right word for Tuesday.

When she explained how she hung out at her apartment, the redhead cocked an eyebrow, noticing all her activities involved being on her own. Which was probably a good thing given she hand't quite learned how to be out in public yet. Maybe she could be the more attractive version of Quasimodo, playing her piano from a tower somewhere. The idea made his chuckle softly.

"Well, my hang outs are nowhere near as exhilarating as yours," he admitted as her food arrived. the waiter indicating that he needed more time for Kevin's orders. "I've got a brilliant ground level space just five minutes from campus. Not that I have much time to enjoy it. I expect I'll be at the freshman's mixer tonight, and then the bar down the street tomorrow, and of course the rap battle on Friday. At some point I might open my course outline but... i doubt it."

There, that should be enough of a reality dose for her to realize she was out of place. Definitely a nerd, Kevin confirmed as the server came their way again, this time caring what looked like an avocado and cheese sandwich.

Oh well, some days surprised you, others gave you a plain sandwich.

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PostSubject: Re: Concrete Jungle Where Dreams are Made Of (Elenore & The Harrington Boy)   Fri Jan 11, 2019 4:56 pm

The incredulous sound of Kevin's voice at the mention of the old Gods was noted by Elenore, but not commented upon. If he didn't know of the old Gods, or the New ones, or whomever it was her Maman was talking to, then Elenore would not explain it. Mostly because in explaining those Gods, it would mean talking of her Maman, and she did not wish to do that on her first day of college her in America. No, her Maman was not needed in this moment.

But his question of getting everything she asked for...

Elenore's eyes moved down and away from Kevin's in that moment, noting how serious he had become, the younger witch couldn't bring herself to look at him. She did not get everything she asked for, because she hadn't managed to always voice what she needed. Then, perhaps, she had received everything she'd asked for, but never gotten what she wanted? "Perhaps you're lucky enough to voice everything you want." Elenore replied softly after a few moments, thankful for the servers return with her food. The witch didn't move to tuck in to it, though, instead waiting for Kevin's food to arrive too, as was proper.

Kevin's tone shifted once more, though, and this time she knew she was being teased by the man sat across from her. It was subtle, but she knew that Kevin was making fun of her decision to stay home when orientation had let out. His own list was one that Elenore had seen the posters for the Freshman's mixer, but as of yet she didn't have anybody to attend the party with. To arrive on her own would be... unsettling for the witch, so she had decided against it after she had been refuted by the group of girls in her class earlier this lunch hour. The other two events that Kevin spoke of were ones that Elenore had not heard of, and thus didn't know existed.

"Well, I had seen the adverts for the mixer, but I don't have anyone to attend with. Which is fine, I'm not looking to burden you with this knowledge. So, I won't be attending that one. But, I hope you enjoy your each of your events, they sound great." The witch supplied with as much positivity as she could muster in that moment. The uncertainty would be clear on her features, though, because each of them sounded like a very out of place situation for the Clement heiress.

"But you really should have a read over your syllabus, it'll help in the long run." Elenore added helpfully as Kevin's lunch appeared. Picking up her knife and fork, the witch began to eat the salad -- which was, without a doubt, the worst culinary experience she had ever witnessed of an establishment -- she had chosen with complete care, as always.

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PostSubject: Re: Concrete Jungle Where Dreams are Made Of (Elenore & The Harrington Boy)   Fri Jan 11, 2019 5:22 pm

"Perhaps you're lucky enough to voice everything you want."

"Well someone did tell me once," he began, miming checking a watch he wasn't wearing. "A long sixty seconds ago, that you have to be clear with your instructions. And since then, I've tried to live my life by that sound advice." Okay so he was being a little cheeky but Tuesday looked like she could use some lightening up. She was probably one of those people who didn't drink from the carton even when no one shared it with her.The type of person who flossed everyday.

Talk of the mixer grew way too serious for Kevin's taste. She didn't wan to "burden him with that knowledge"? Who spoke like that? the cult she used to belong to must have really done a number on her. Which suited Kevin fine since he wasn't here to make ehr go out and have fun. No, this little bird was best protected in her cage high up, paying music for Chrysler.

"It's okay, the mixer's not your kind of scene anyway," he commented, completely ignoring his sandwich and reaching for his flask once again. "Just lots of dancing and socializing, and you probably can't even dance so best to give the whole thing a wide berth if you ask me," he added sagely, putting his flask away after a generous gulp from its contents.

"I mean, I don't want to go either but there's this girl who has a number I need. But you don't have to know that, Tuesday. You're a good girl." He meant it as a compliment really but it came out as soemthing tinged with a little more. Oh well, lets hope she didn't notice.

"And you don't have to eat that if you don't like it," he added offhandedly, trying to introduce her to the idea of doing what she wanted instead of what she should be doing. "The food here is disgusting, we all know that. Stop eating it or you'll make yourself sick. Who will read all your books then? An play your piano?" Maybe appeasing to the inner nerd in her would work better.

"There's a semi decent Sushi place ten minutes down the road if you're okay with skiving the first fifteen minutes of our next session." Now that he'd said it out loud, Sushi actually sounded good. Being back here, the man had rediscovered his appetite, and wondered how much he could abuse it.

"No one will notice, well, no one will notice I'm gone..." Tuesday had made quite an impression already so she might be missed, but not to greatly he was willing to wager. She could always say she was held up at the bathrooms, powdering her nose or adjusting her stockings, whatever it was she did in there.

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