Cheval Academy - History;; Class One

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History;; Class One [animal i've become]
« Thread Started on Jan 7, 2008, 7:08pm »

woot guys! second group role play! -frown- i don't know how many of you will join, but i'd love to get as many people as possible, both since it boosts activity and so that i can break in max. ^.^
The first rays of light were pouring through the largest window of his dormitory, but Cheval’s Resident History Teacher and self-appointed discipline officer was not asleep, nor was he taking the time to take in the beautiful site. Reclining against a slab of bland white wall – ah, how he loathed the color why, a sign of insanity in his mind – the dark-haired man stood with one arm crossed over his chest, clutching his third cigarette of the morning. As it was, he had been awake for most of the night, but he had not been fully clothed until his clock had read five in the morning, as he had not seen the need to awake earlier than that. Insomnia was something that Max had suffered from since his childhood, and so he did not need to sleep, but it was helpful to at least lie down until the sun at least almost began to rise. What was it that Pandora had said about his disorder? That he should seek help? Laughable! To some extent, it was not that Max could not sleep, but it was more that he had no interest in sleeping. Sleep, to the man, was like dying, except that it was plagued with so many memories that he never had any more interest in thinking on.

Sleep took away his control, and lack of control brought back his sister. That could never happen.

A bit of smoke exited his nose as he exhaled, looking far more relaxed than he felt. It was never a good thing when Maximilien Brossard was frustrated, and to couple that with his anxiety and insomnia meant that he was in a bad mood. This, however, was nothing unusual. As it was, Max had been in a pretty bad mood every other day of the week for the passed few months, it seemed, as he had been forced to deal over hormonal students before summer break several months ago, and was now forced to be in the same room with the same unbearable children as he had loathed last year. His temper was beginning to get the better of him, and as he glanced around this particular room of his dormitory he could see several shattered, valuable objects and a few broken beer bottles from his most recent tantrums. He had expected someone to clean them up one night or another, but perhaps they had thought this was some ridiculous form of decorating… or something else ridiculous from that sort of mindset. Yes, Max acknowledged, his bad moods were not rare – they were just dangerous.

so what if you can see the darkest side of me?
no one will ever change this animal i have become
help me believe it's not the real me
somebody help me tame this animal i have become

It was good, finally, for the man to be alone. The sort of person who had little tolerance for anyone who had the audacity to speak or simply spend too much time in his presence, Max didn’t particularly enjoy having company – to say the least. Working at a school meant that he was not only surrounded constantly by students, but he was also constantly around the rest of the staff. As it was, there could not be a group of people that Max loathed more, save, perhaps, for the Headmaster, who was an old family friend. Though he was quick to judge, this would be his third year teaching at this school, and Maximilien thought this was long enough to decide whom he liked and disliked.

He exhaled another puff of smoke from his lungs, flexing his right hand slightly, which was the hand that had been injured and stiff for as long as he could remember. He supposed that his outburst of anger four years ago, which resulted in a semi-destroyed wall and a very broken mirror, had not been the greatest thing for hand that was already in such bad condition. He remembered what his father had said about him after such an outburst – about how he had no self control, about how he needed to learn what it was like to deal with emotions. Coincidently, he was, or at least tried to be, an empty shell of a human being, his emotional shield protecting him from feeling anything from pain to happiness as he went about his day. He didn't want that connection with anyone that came from really meaning his actions, and most of what he said he scrutinized carefully before saying it - even what he screamed during his outbursts, and he knew that sounded impulsive. In a way, it was, but it was not as if every word that flowed out of Maximilien's mouth poured out because he could not stop himself. If he so fancied, he could; it was his actions, especially the violence ones, that were harder to control.

As he extinguished his cigarette against the wall behind him, not caring about the stain he made, Max decided that it would be best if he began to his classroom, for his first class of the day would be starting in close to forty-five minutes. He had prepared for it, naturally, but he was definitely not in the mood to face the teenagers that he hated so much. Sometimes – most of the time – he questioned what he had been thinking when he took a job teaching. Maximilien exhaled the slightest breath of cigarette spoke with a careless air, resembling someone who had performed the same routine one too many times. Twenty-eight years old and growing older each day, Max had put this chapter of his life behind him years before and had proudly graduated high school a decade before this, but he was again, this time for a different reason entirely.

It were always the simple things that came back to bite him in the ass.

With a frustrated sigh, the man began to pace a bit in his dormitory, deciding if it would be the smartest thing for him to leave his dormitory and just walk the fuck down to his class. As he figured that he had no other options, this was what Max did. Close enough to ten minutes later the man had arrived at the entrance to his classroom, having close to ten minutes to spare before his class actually was due to show up. If there was another think that bothered him it was first period classes, and since teaching was never something he enjoyed, having to do it when he was still groggy from his sleep-less night was never particularly enjoyable. It were classes that took place this early in the morning that had helped to give Max the reputation that he had around the school, and, yes, he knew what people said about him; he was a hard-ass and a difficult teacher who had a tendency never to take crap from his students and who dished out detentions like birthday cards.

He frowned, sitting on top of the desk at the front of the classroom with his tattooed arms crossed over his chest. Despite the fact that he looked like a convict, Max was a rather attractive man. He had liquid-black eyes that matched his black hair perfectly, and when one looked in his coal orbs there was not a pupil in sight. At the moment, the man was leisurely wearing a pair of dark denim jeans and a plain black t-shirt, which he thought looked quite perfect on him. This said, it was not as though Max particularly cared about these things. He was not the sort of man who had ever partaken in the planning of clothing, and often resorted to wearing the first thing that he pulled out of his wardrobe, though it mostly consisted of black. If he had ever planned a thing than perhaps it was the chain changing from the site of his pants, which he had found was an excellent tool were he to see the need to ‘defend himself,’ or perhaps start a scrap here and there; he wouldn’t admit this was why he wore it, though. Aspects of himself that Maximilien quite liked were those too-black eyes of his... eyes that were devoid of human compassion. Naturally he liked every physical aspect of himself because, really, he was the physical epitome of male perfection. He sighed, letting his fingers move through his shock of black hair (which naturally stood on end) before letting his rather rough hand move down his face and over his stubble. Due to his present location, lack of entertainment, and foul mood today, the first few creases of a frown could be found pulling his lips downward, which was never a good sign.

He hoped, as he raised a brow and watched the clock, that the brats would have read the assigned material for the summer, for Max was not one of those bullshit teachers who expected people to come in knowing nothing, particularly about a subject that he, personally, was well versed on.

He sighed. They should be arriving soon. Ah, how he detested that notion.

« Last Edit: Jan 7, 2008, 11:18pm by [ravennn://] »

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