((Gyu-ri Christensen, start))
The blood drive for the Saturday of February 10th, 2018 had been set up in the cheerleaders section of the gym, which Gyu-ri intimately recognized. Not in detail as the details had been meticulously changed: mats had been stacked in the forward left corner relative to the main door, and stacked in such a way that there was a slight leaning tilt forward overall, which Gyu-ri noticed without fail every time she glanced over that way. As a result: she kept glancing over that way over and over in a manner akin to someone picking at the sore scab of a wound, though it hurt her, curiosity itched at her brain far more insistently than the flash of pain accompanying visualization of that ineptly produced Leaning Tower. She successfully resisted the urge to march over there and straighten the pileup of mats herself.
In part, because she continually reminded herself that she lacked the physique needed to manipulate mats more than twice her size with anything approaching ease or grace. At any rate. As Gyu-ri evaluated the gym's new facade she honed in onto the particulars with a natural, uncomfortable ease. Her jaw clenched tooth set against tooth, one of several personal stress balls, as various lobes of her brain buzzed like the springy sear of a migraine:
The number of benches for donating blood totaled to six arrayed against the far wall from the main door. They were prototypical dark-padded units which could fold up at the seam into a dentist's chair esque formation, for marginal comfort. This area of the gym was curtained off by several sections of heavy black canvas, providing token privacy. To the far side, tucked beside the door of the emergency exit- which was one of two in this particular half of the gym- sat long folding tables in drab color scheme. Resting on and under and besides these tables in a mess sans geometric congruence were important medical equipment. Sterile needles, which Gyu-ri eyeballed as being roughly the size of a whole finger; plastic tubing; blood bags with yet unmarked labels; blood pressure cuffs. A further lack of organization existed here: again, Gyu-ri found herself resisting the nag of her brain to correctly arrange such a mess, per general density and shape of items.
One particular sight confounded her slightly, in the form of a significant irritation that she dwelt on for an inordinate amount of time as her body idled in real time. An apparatus sat by it's lonesome besides the unused piles of equipment, folding open like the scanner unit of a typical printer, with it's innards being a number of dials and a windowed rotating barrel similar to that of a washing machine. She found herself fundamentally frustrated by the inability to recognize the machine's formal purpose, that was to say, it left the foremost sections of her brain wound slightly by tension that felt particularly explosive, as did all tensions Gyu-ri generally felt from day to day. Glaring at the unknown entity as if it would surrender answers to her was a waste of time, she caught herself in the process and stood down, though her ample aggravations remained. As, such a machine was one she'd had regular exposure to before in her Grandpa's clinic and it was, by some logic she didn't quite understand but ascribed to all the same, a disrespect onto her beloved 할아버지 that she had seemingly forgotten some piece of practical knowledge he'd taken the care and effort to pass onto her.
Gyu-ri exhaled heavily, quietly so and with care to modulate the volume of her whimsical temper tantrum.
The pair of desks the volunteers such as herself worked at were another set of plain tables. She and her two co-workers were merely equipped with pens and paperwork, and tasked with the various secretarial matters. To greet, to process, to care; in summary. Gyu-ri repetitively reoriented the single paper she had directly in front of herself, separated from it's many photocopied brethren. With a precise rhythm of every alternate second her narrow fingers flipped the paper in some different longside facing her, then short, then long again, repeatedly. She took further note of the paper itself, where in pure black ink printing a number of information fields for prospective donors to fill out were arranged into an aesthetically solid grid.
She continued to process the various tidbits of data concerning her immediate environment, making sure to regularly check to see if anything had changed in the interceding two seconds since she'd last checked. Forward and backward and to all sides her head pivoted as she maintained such compulsion.
Her presence in the blood drive this month was the first and only of such events in her life, a spontaneity which she was dully surprised by. She'd applied to volunteer on a whim, with a reasoning that escaped her. It hadn't seemed right more so than it had merely been right, as in, she had made the decision sans higher order thought the moment she'd allowed herself to navigate to the Red Cross online site and consider her relevant qualifications. The latter of which she had few, at least in her understanding, being sans particular medical experience or customer service skills. She had been selected for this volunteer role against all odds, and she certainly could question her being chosen further than that. But, that was irrelevant speculation.
Gyu-ri had dressed herself appropriately, in the means that she always dressed herself regardless of daily activity. The briskly frigid February air to be nullified and defeated via long sleeve white cotton and ankle-hugging black denim. Her medic bag was ironically appropriate as of present, though she noted that only made her feel like something of a pretender to the vaunted role of healer and doctor. She sat still, save for her regular scans of her surroundings. They had opened the blood drive formally as of two minutes prior to nine in the morning, with present time being nine as of Gyu-ri's last consultation of a phone. The palpable speech bubble cloud of an unknown amount of people murmuring outside the gym began to rumble as the crowd slowly meandered into the gym proper, and Gyu-ri felt an odd nausea massage her stomach sourly as this ambient noise grew more violent and adjacent to her over large bubble of personal space.
Though it was feasible that she felt sick due to her having only had two hours sleep of the past twenty four. Whatever the possibility, it rather defeated her on the spot, but she held her position. Service, she supposed, without a smile. In orientation they had not taught her to greet donors as if she had a personalized lightning cloud raining onto her face, but unfortunately that was all she had to offer.
Venipuncture
GHHS Blood Drive, Early Spring. Open!
Venipuncture
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
Ned came to the blood drive as soon as it opened. It was in his best interest to be punctual, as he had plans later that day. He was going to head to the movies with his family. His mother had coerced him into giving blood, just as his brother had done while he was in high school. Ned wasn't exactly keen on the idea, not that he wasn't charitable, but she said she would reward Ned with a trip to the movies if he gave blood. It was odd, to say the least, that she'd try to get him to do something he didn't want to by offering something, like he was a kindergartner. Well, Ned went along with it anyway, because it was free trip to the cinema. Who wouldn't like that?
He arrived at the gymnasium's entrance with baited breath. Ned felt honestly nervous. Maybe it was the thought of seeing his own blood getting drained out of him. Or the pinch of a metal needle being dug into his skin. Ned had chills up and down his spine, but he had to brave through it. He had to remind himself that this was for a free trip to the movies.
This is for the movies.
Ned pushed open the door and walked in.
He arrived at the gymnasium's entrance with baited breath. Ned felt honestly nervous. Maybe it was the thought of seeing his own blood getting drained out of him. Or the pinch of a metal needle being dug into his skin. Ned had chills up and down his spine, but he had to brave through it. He had to remind himself that this was for a free trip to the movies.
This is for the movies.
Ned pushed open the door and walked in.
B018: Ned Jackson- 
G039: Yuki Hayashibara- 
B034: Zachary Beck- -
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2565
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Today was the day of the George Hunter High School blood drive, set up in the gym, and specifically on Lavender Ripley's home turf. She'd seen some of the preparations yesterday, and could visualize what had changed since even as she stood out front.
It was Saturday, so it felt strange to drive to school, but only a little. She'd been here after hours or at odd times often, and usually with a purpose a lot less important than that which brought her here today. This was a pretty big deal in its way, members of the community coming together to do what they could for total strangers, with no direct benefit to themselves. The Red Cross was sponsoring this. The Red Cross was one of the most widely known and respected institutions in the country. A lot of Lavender's classmates would be here, donating for a great range of reasons. Some would be doing so under duress from their parents, others out of the genuine goodness of their hearts. The people who were at all aware of issues like blood shortages, her peers who cared about making the world a better place but didn't quite know where to start, they'd be here, and so it was important that she be here too, to make a statement and show solidarity.
Lavender was near the front of the crowd. She wanted to be one of the earlier ones, to really help set the tone for the volunteers here today, but also hadn't wanted to wait for an hour or anything. She was situated a little behind Ned Jackson, who she thought of as a more or less decent guy with little to no crossover with her spheres of socialization or interest. She was a little bit surprised to see him here, truth be told. Maybe she'd have to inquire if the opportunity presented itself.
It was chilly today, and Lavender was ready to get inside and get this over with. She was dressed nicely, more like she was going to a job interview than a blood drive, in black slacks and a white button-down shirt and a black blazer, with a teal scarf wound around her neck. She wore simple silver stud earrings. Her shoes were black, shiny, with an understated lift in the heel; she didn't need the extra height, but it helped her some.
The truth was, her confidence was unsteady just now. She wasn't going to back out. This was the right thing to do. She just happened to be nervous about it. The cool air raising bumps along her arms was not helping. She crossed her arms and held them close against her chest. She should've worn a thicker jacket.
But soon enough, the word was given and Ned opened the door and Lavender followed him inside, quickly looking over the setup. Yes, it was as she'd been told and expected. The bulk of the activity was in her space, the same place where she practiced with the others. It was a place where she belonged, a place where she was comfortable and confident, and that boosted her morale. She had this. She was going to rock it. Everything would be fine.
Lavender recognized one of the volunteers right away. Gyu-ri Christensen, friend of Ivy Langley, who was not Lavender's favorite teammate ever. Lavender didn't really peg Gyu-ri as the altruistic type. She actually thought the girl was a bit difficult in her own right, but she didn't know the her super well, and Gyu-ri was here today, so maybe they'd both have an opportunity to learn something about each other.
Just like that, Lavender decided: she'd take Gyu-ri's sign-up line. She smiled brightly, trying to catch the other girl's eye as she moved with the part of the crowd headed in the right direction.
It was Saturday, so it felt strange to drive to school, but only a little. She'd been here after hours or at odd times often, and usually with a purpose a lot less important than that which brought her here today. This was a pretty big deal in its way, members of the community coming together to do what they could for total strangers, with no direct benefit to themselves. The Red Cross was sponsoring this. The Red Cross was one of the most widely known and respected institutions in the country. A lot of Lavender's classmates would be here, donating for a great range of reasons. Some would be doing so under duress from their parents, others out of the genuine goodness of their hearts. The people who were at all aware of issues like blood shortages, her peers who cared about making the world a better place but didn't quite know where to start, they'd be here, and so it was important that she be here too, to make a statement and show solidarity.
Lavender was near the front of the crowd. She wanted to be one of the earlier ones, to really help set the tone for the volunteers here today, but also hadn't wanted to wait for an hour or anything. She was situated a little behind Ned Jackson, who she thought of as a more or less decent guy with little to no crossover with her spheres of socialization or interest. She was a little bit surprised to see him here, truth be told. Maybe she'd have to inquire if the opportunity presented itself.
It was chilly today, and Lavender was ready to get inside and get this over with. She was dressed nicely, more like she was going to a job interview than a blood drive, in black slacks and a white button-down shirt and a black blazer, with a teal scarf wound around her neck. She wore simple silver stud earrings. Her shoes were black, shiny, with an understated lift in the heel; she didn't need the extra height, but it helped her some.
The truth was, her confidence was unsteady just now. She wasn't going to back out. This was the right thing to do. She just happened to be nervous about it. The cool air raising bumps along her arms was not helping. She crossed her arms and held them close against her chest. She should've worn a thicker jacket.
But soon enough, the word was given and Ned opened the door and Lavender followed him inside, quickly looking over the setup. Yes, it was as she'd been told and expected. The bulk of the activity was in her space, the same place where she practiced with the others. It was a place where she belonged, a place where she was comfortable and confident, and that boosted her morale. She had this. She was going to rock it. Everything would be fine.
Lavender recognized one of the volunteers right away. Gyu-ri Christensen, friend of Ivy Langley, who was not Lavender's favorite teammate ever. Lavender didn't really peg Gyu-ri as the altruistic type. She actually thought the girl was a bit difficult in her own right, but she didn't know the her super well, and Gyu-ri was here today, so maybe they'd both have an opportunity to learn something about each other.
Just like that, Lavender decided: she'd take Gyu-ri's sign-up line. She smiled brightly, trying to catch the other girl's eye as she moved with the part of the crowd headed in the right direction.
Avatar art by the lovely and inimitable Kotorikun
Kyle Harrison hummed a gleeful tune as he returned from a brief conversation with the doctors. He already knew what the blood was for, of course. After all, he had helped with the drive for the last two years, and even if he hadn't he already knew all about the purposes of donated blood from his research. It was vital for helping people who had been in accidents, or required emergency blood transfusions. All of that was information that he was already privy to, so he had no need to ask about it. Rather, he was busy asking the doctors if they needed any help with anything beyond what he was already doing. They gently told him no and sent him beck to the front to return to his regular duties, just as they had when he did the same thing last year.
With his goals set, Kyle placed a tray of juice and cookies for the donors to grab a sample from post-donation. He took a moment to make sure that it was securely on its table and didn't look crooked. With it successfully in place, he gave it a small thumbs-up and returned to the sign-in table.
He virtually slid into his seat with how naturally he collapsed into it. He tapped his fingers on the currently-empty sign-up sheet in front of him. It was only the beginning of the drive, so naturally no one would have come just yet. He was positive that it would be absolutely full of signatures soon enough, though. After all, it was for a really great cause, so who could pass it up? Yeah, people would be flowing in through those doors in no time. And even if they weren't really enthusiastic about giving blood in general, he figured that the free juice and cookie would draw in a couple more people.
He looked up from his seat with a big smile that performed the impressive feat of looking completely natural for how wide and cheerful it was. Of course, that was because he was genuinely excited for the day ahead. He leaned over slightly to speak to Gyu-ri as the doors opened for the first time since they set up shop.
"Big day, yeah?"
With his goals set, Kyle placed a tray of juice and cookies for the donors to grab a sample from post-donation. He took a moment to make sure that it was securely on its table and didn't look crooked. With it successfully in place, he gave it a small thumbs-up and returned to the sign-in table.
He virtually slid into his seat with how naturally he collapsed into it. He tapped his fingers on the currently-empty sign-up sheet in front of him. It was only the beginning of the drive, so naturally no one would have come just yet. He was positive that it would be absolutely full of signatures soon enough, though. After all, it was for a really great cause, so who could pass it up? Yeah, people would be flowing in through those doors in no time. And even if they weren't really enthusiastic about giving blood in general, he figured that the free juice and cookie would draw in a couple more people.
He looked up from his seat with a big smile that performed the impressive feat of looking completely natural for how wide and cheerful it was. Of course, that was because he was genuinely excited for the day ahead. He leaned over slightly to speak to Gyu-ri as the doors opened for the first time since they set up shop.
"Big day, yeah?"
-
MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
((Wyatt Carter continued from that time he didn't molest Ivy which was nice))
Alright so, on the plus side, he was getting extra credit in health class for this, something he sorely needed. It also got him out of going to a stupid work brunch he was supposed to have with his dad this morning. Wyatt loved his dad and all, but the thought of going to some hole in the wall to have brunch that skeevy chink realtor who smiled with a crooked, rotten grin and spat fake pleasantries through his teeth. There was a feeling in his gut that the construction company was gonna get fucked by guys like him if his father wasn't careful. Knowing he wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut against bullshit flying through the air like that, Wyatt decided it'd be wise to opt out. This seemed noble, and convenient, enough to fit the bill.
Thankfully he had shown up early. Bad enough he had to shoulder somebody in order to get through the door without being nudged around, the line was forming up something fierce behind him. Looked like a relatively small number of people ahead of him, and if it worked like the last time he'd been to a blood drive, there would be more opportunities later on to perhaps scootch up the line a bit... because getting out of obligations was nice, but that didn't mean he wanted to sit around here for an hour with his thumb stuck up his ass, either.
Knowing these things were open to the general public, Wyatt hadn't expected to know every face near to him but, wouldn't ya know it, he actually recognized a couple people in line. Ned Jackson: little weeb dipshit, probably autistic. Lavender Ripley: ass like a jockey's, face like a horse's. Wyatt frowned; either his message to his teammates about coming (all for a good cause, and totally not just to keep him company and from being bored out of his mind while the vampires stuck him) didn't take, or those lazy bastards were sleeping in like he wanted to. That left him stuck with the kinds of people who got up at the asscrack of dawn to do community service, the kind of people who thought their shit didn't stick.
To quote Gene Wilder: "You know... morons."
Wyatt looked over the heads of those in front of him in line to see who was running this sideshow. He wasn't terribly surprised to learn that he recognized them both. Goo-ya or Guru or however the fuck you pronounced her name (Wyatt stuck to 'hey there' in polite conversation) was cool, if kinda half-assed in her supposed political support. Also flatter than a coffee table, but she was admittedly pretty damn cute and had some good ideas from time to time. Kyle, or 'short stack' or 'fun-size' depending on Wyatt's mood, was a bit of a weird case to figure out. He'd associated with the kid now and then growing up, and the general vibe he got was 'bit preachy and yappy like a small dog, but he's not too annoying and his heart is in the right place.'
Coulda been worse, all things considered, Wyatt thought to himself as he rummaged through his wallet and pulled out his blood donor card. He took a moment to admire it.
Wyatt Carter
Blood Type AB+
Alright so, on the plus side, he was getting extra credit in health class for this, something he sorely needed. It also got him out of going to a stupid work brunch he was supposed to have with his dad this morning. Wyatt loved his dad and all, but the thought of going to some hole in the wall to have brunch that skeevy chink realtor who smiled with a crooked, rotten grin and spat fake pleasantries through his teeth. There was a feeling in his gut that the construction company was gonna get fucked by guys like him if his father wasn't careful. Knowing he wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut against bullshit flying through the air like that, Wyatt decided it'd be wise to opt out. This seemed noble, and convenient, enough to fit the bill.
Thankfully he had shown up early. Bad enough he had to shoulder somebody in order to get through the door without being nudged around, the line was forming up something fierce behind him. Looked like a relatively small number of people ahead of him, and if it worked like the last time he'd been to a blood drive, there would be more opportunities later on to perhaps scootch up the line a bit... because getting out of obligations was nice, but that didn't mean he wanted to sit around here for an hour with his thumb stuck up his ass, either.
Knowing these things were open to the general public, Wyatt hadn't expected to know every face near to him but, wouldn't ya know it, he actually recognized a couple people in line. Ned Jackson: little weeb dipshit, probably autistic. Lavender Ripley: ass like a jockey's, face like a horse's. Wyatt frowned; either his message to his teammates about coming (all for a good cause, and totally not just to keep him company and from being bored out of his mind while the vampires stuck him) didn't take, or those lazy bastards were sleeping in like he wanted to. That left him stuck with the kinds of people who got up at the asscrack of dawn to do community service, the kind of people who thought their shit didn't stick.
To quote Gene Wilder: "You know... morons."
Wyatt looked over the heads of those in front of him in line to see who was running this sideshow. He wasn't terribly surprised to learn that he recognized them both. Goo-ya or Guru or however the fuck you pronounced her name (Wyatt stuck to 'hey there' in polite conversation) was cool, if kinda half-assed in her supposed political support. Also flatter than a coffee table, but she was admittedly pretty damn cute and had some good ideas from time to time. Kyle, or 'short stack' or 'fun-size' depending on Wyatt's mood, was a bit of a weird case to figure out. He'd associated with the kid now and then growing up, and the general vibe he got was 'bit preachy and yappy like a small dog, but he's not too annoying and his heart is in the right place.'
Coulda been worse, all things considered, Wyatt thought to himself as he rummaged through his wallet and pulled out his blood donor card. He took a moment to admire it.
Wyatt Carter
Blood Type AB+
Gyu-ri did not prioritize details. Details would suffuse out of her environment all at once, in an overwhelming cascade, which she would have no choice but to evaluate all at once. From the traffic jam pileup of faces and organic shapes blobbing around in her line of sight she was able to slowly pick out several that particularly stood out, though not without the ambient painful roar of the remainder static noise echoing from the very back of the cavern within her own skull. Yes, she saw a face in excruciating detail, no she certainly did not recognize it, but her conscious mind seemed very intent on mobilizing mental energy and resources: as if she did recognize the plain and unassuming countenance that belonged to a complete stranger.
That process, times one hundred, eventually stagnated into a heavy exhale that she drew out until the slight pain of her completely empty lungs straining to crumple woke her up. Then, a palm propped up by an elbow on the table, which she used to support her head by the cheek as she suddenly felt dizzy and dry of mouth. Then, information.
Ned Jackson. No classes shared, she couldn't recall why she knew his name and she despised the void that existed in her memory for it's awkward gravity shunting her thoughts into a spiral of pointless flashes of vapidly inspired speculations. She despised his kinked and poorly shaped hair cut. She despised what she knew of his interests for being puerile.
Lavender Ripley. Ivy did not care for Lavender as far as Gyu-ri could discern from a vanishingly small sample size of direct references. Lavender's extant reputation was that of social responsibility and mindfulness. Gyu-ri, at least, respected Lavender's supposed passion. Her posture and carriage were effective and efficient. Gyu-ri supposed they could have been fast friends with some philosophical differences in another life, but that inkling of a thought was patently pointless.
Wyatt Carter. Ivy did care for Wyatt as far as Gyu-ri could discern from a very generous sample size of direct and oftentimes ravishing references. Wyatt's appearance was stereotypical and slightly unbalanced by sheer mass. His reputation proceeded him as phenomenally disgusting and hedonistic, Gyu-ri however believed Wyatt in some sense earned his place. His championing of the prowess of the GHHS football team and his powerfully aggressive personality earned him the acumen he could exchange for his shortcomings. It was a fair balance of power, as far as Gyu-ri was concerned. Personally, Wyatt treated her fairly when they spoke. She still held him in some contempt, but there was almost nobody she didn't hold in contempt anyways. Sum total, she liked him with at least some genuine sentiment.
Besides her, the loud and maddening scrape of an adjusting chair. Kyle Harrison. Slightly doughy face, almost impressively weak-looking body. His helpfulness and enthusiasm were on display at that very moment. They seemed to be his most universal features, which Gyu-ri certainly did not begrudge. He deserved to be at this table, she did not, and that incongruity slightly taxed the mind. His smile seemed almost too large, at the very precipice of uncanny valley, but Gyu-ri acknowledged this was merely her overthinking, over-scrutinizing as always and as ever.
She wished she could remember a time when she wasn't like this. Meanwhile, she continued to religiously flip the paper she was meditating upon. 'With a precise rhythm of every alternate second her narrow fingers flipped the paper in some different longside facing her, then short, then long again, repeatedly. She took further note of the paper itself, where in pure black ink printing a number of information fields for prospective donors to fill out were arranged into an aesthetically solid grid.'
"It is," she retorted at Kyle with an undue growl of a tone under her breath. "So, focus on it." Objectively fruitful advice, but Gyu-ri hadn't intended to be so seemingly infuriated and biting when she'd fired it back. She hadn't even intended to fire it back, outright. Her frustration simmered, all the same. She could have said sorry, but she reasoned with herself that it was irrelevant. She didn't want to hear her own insipidly flowery voice echoing at her through her own skull more than she had to.
The lines began to sort and move. Lavender was in the group that Gyu-ri would serve, Gyu-ri was distracted by Lavender's suddenly friendly smile that was possibly intended for her. Perhaps intended for Kyle, for the angle was ambiguous. Gyu-ri fussed endlessly over the appropriate response before deciding, with a mote of resentful defeat, that none was the best. Donor processing was begun, the noise in the room bubbled and frothed into a cacophony sans any recognizable melody. That loudness suffused into the depths of Gyu-ri's thoughts and battled with innumerable other environmental stimulus for Gyu-ri's increasingly worn-thin ability to pay attention.
To the person who would arrive before her Gyu-ri looked up, her exhaustion-sunken eyes neutral but budding on slight reproach as one might expect of a particularly detestable waitress whose career was a dead end and a resentment. Gyu-ri finally gave the paper she'd played incessantly with one last flip, oriented for the ease of the donor's usage, and she pushed it their way along with a pen tucked under the grip of her fingers that rolled with momentum the donor's way.
"Please fill out this form and present your donor card or other form of valid identification."
Gyu-ri's mind suddenly warped. The moment of reality around her was still just that, mundane yet infinitely annoying, but suddenly a phantasm was super-imposed onto the clouds of reality called daydreams. Wyatt sexually using Lavender and Gyu-ri herself was quintessentially the last thing Gyu-ri had wanted to dwell on, but suddenly it was there, the orgiastic tangle of limbs carelessly sprawled out onto the donor desks. The detail all too real and meticulously sculpted, Gyu-ri merely witnessed such an oddity with one active part of her brain, all while the remainder active parts spectacularly failed to respond or care because this happened all the fucking time anyways and Gyu-ri could loathe herself for it in silent peace.
She didn't even blink.
"If you have any questions, please let me know," Gyu-ri droned in an apathetic grumble.
That process, times one hundred, eventually stagnated into a heavy exhale that she drew out until the slight pain of her completely empty lungs straining to crumple woke her up. Then, a palm propped up by an elbow on the table, which she used to support her head by the cheek as she suddenly felt dizzy and dry of mouth. Then, information.
Ned Jackson. No classes shared, she couldn't recall why she knew his name and she despised the void that existed in her memory for it's awkward gravity shunting her thoughts into a spiral of pointless flashes of vapidly inspired speculations. She despised his kinked and poorly shaped hair cut. She despised what she knew of his interests for being puerile.
Lavender Ripley. Ivy did not care for Lavender as far as Gyu-ri could discern from a vanishingly small sample size of direct references. Lavender's extant reputation was that of social responsibility and mindfulness. Gyu-ri, at least, respected Lavender's supposed passion. Her posture and carriage were effective and efficient. Gyu-ri supposed they could have been fast friends with some philosophical differences in another life, but that inkling of a thought was patently pointless.
Wyatt Carter. Ivy did care for Wyatt as far as Gyu-ri could discern from a very generous sample size of direct and oftentimes ravishing references. Wyatt's appearance was stereotypical and slightly unbalanced by sheer mass. His reputation proceeded him as phenomenally disgusting and hedonistic, Gyu-ri however believed Wyatt in some sense earned his place. His championing of the prowess of the GHHS football team and his powerfully aggressive personality earned him the acumen he could exchange for his shortcomings. It was a fair balance of power, as far as Gyu-ri was concerned. Personally, Wyatt treated her fairly when they spoke. She still held him in some contempt, but there was almost nobody she didn't hold in contempt anyways. Sum total, she liked him with at least some genuine sentiment.
Besides her, the loud and maddening scrape of an adjusting chair. Kyle Harrison. Slightly doughy face, almost impressively weak-looking body. His helpfulness and enthusiasm were on display at that very moment. They seemed to be his most universal features, which Gyu-ri certainly did not begrudge. He deserved to be at this table, she did not, and that incongruity slightly taxed the mind. His smile seemed almost too large, at the very precipice of uncanny valley, but Gyu-ri acknowledged this was merely her overthinking, over-scrutinizing as always and as ever.
She wished she could remember a time when she wasn't like this. Meanwhile, she continued to religiously flip the paper she was meditating upon. 'With a precise rhythm of every alternate second her narrow fingers flipped the paper in some different longside facing her, then short, then long again, repeatedly. She took further note of the paper itself, where in pure black ink printing a number of information fields for prospective donors to fill out were arranged into an aesthetically solid grid.'
"It is," she retorted at Kyle with an undue growl of a tone under her breath. "So, focus on it." Objectively fruitful advice, but Gyu-ri hadn't intended to be so seemingly infuriated and biting when she'd fired it back. She hadn't even intended to fire it back, outright. Her frustration simmered, all the same. She could have said sorry, but she reasoned with herself that it was irrelevant. She didn't want to hear her own insipidly flowery voice echoing at her through her own skull more than she had to.
The lines began to sort and move. Lavender was in the group that Gyu-ri would serve, Gyu-ri was distracted by Lavender's suddenly friendly smile that was possibly intended for her. Perhaps intended for Kyle, for the angle was ambiguous. Gyu-ri fussed endlessly over the appropriate response before deciding, with a mote of resentful defeat, that none was the best. Donor processing was begun, the noise in the room bubbled and frothed into a cacophony sans any recognizable melody. That loudness suffused into the depths of Gyu-ri's thoughts and battled with innumerable other environmental stimulus for Gyu-ri's increasingly worn-thin ability to pay attention.
To the person who would arrive before her Gyu-ri looked up, her exhaustion-sunken eyes neutral but budding on slight reproach as one might expect of a particularly detestable waitress whose career was a dead end and a resentment. Gyu-ri finally gave the paper she'd played incessantly with one last flip, oriented for the ease of the donor's usage, and she pushed it their way along with a pen tucked under the grip of her fingers that rolled with momentum the donor's way.
"Please fill out this form and present your donor card or other form of valid identification."
Gyu-ri's mind suddenly warped. The moment of reality around her was still just that, mundane yet infinitely annoying, but suddenly a phantasm was super-imposed onto the clouds of reality called daydreams. Wyatt sexually using Lavender and Gyu-ri herself was quintessentially the last thing Gyu-ri had wanted to dwell on, but suddenly it was there, the orgiastic tangle of limbs carelessly sprawled out onto the donor desks. The detail all too real and meticulously sculpted, Gyu-ri merely witnessed such an oddity with one active part of her brain, all while the remainder active parts spectacularly failed to respond or care because this happened all the fucking time anyways and Gyu-ri could loathe herself for it in silent peace.
She didn't even blink.
"If you have any questions, please let me know," Gyu-ri droned in an apathetic grumble.
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
Ned waited in line for his turn to fill out the form. As he did, he noticed one of last people he ever wanted to make contact with was among the crowd. Wyatt Carter, a big, angry wall of muscle. He did not like Ned, and Ned made it an effort to stay away from Wyatt as much as possible. Best thing to do is not make eye contact. Just another part of the trial to get to the movies.
Aside from Wyatt the Terrible, there was Lavender Ripley, a progressive student. Ned doesn't know formally, but he has seen her name on the student council. Luckily, she has a reputation for being easy to socialize with, so Ned probably wouldn't mind making conversation with her.
Also, there was Kyle Harrison. He was a charitable boy, so figures he'd show up for something like blood drive. Kyle definitely seems like a friendly sort of person, someone Ned kind of admired for being so helpful.
All Ned could do was wait for the person in front of him to finish up so he could take his turn. In the meantime, Ned needed to avoid contact with Wyatt.
Aside from Wyatt the Terrible, there was Lavender Ripley, a progressive student. Ned doesn't know formally, but he has seen her name on the student council. Luckily, she has a reputation for being easy to socialize with, so Ned probably wouldn't mind making conversation with her.
Also, there was Kyle Harrison. He was a charitable boy, so figures he'd show up for something like blood drive. Kyle definitely seems like a friendly sort of person, someone Ned kind of admired for being so helpful.
All Ned could do was wait for the person in front of him to finish up so he could take his turn. In the meantime, Ned needed to avoid contact with Wyatt.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2565
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
The press and confusion of the entrance was a little bit claustrophobic even to Lavender, who didn't mind crowds all that much. Someone bumped her, and the heat of the assembled bodies quickly dispelled the chill she'd felt before. She could recognize many faces, which made sense; she'd gone over the donation requirements very carefully and had learned that donors had to be at least seventeen years old unless they jumped through a number of parental consent hoops. That meant that, of those assembled here who were students, the bulk would be drawn from Lavender's class, with a smaller eligibility pool in the grade below and virtually no sign of freshmen and sophomores.
Among the classmates Lavender recognized were Kyle Harrison and Wyatt Carter, who she felt quite differently about. Kyle had his heart in the right place. He was always ready to lend a hand, though perhaps with more enthusiasm than a given situation merited. Lavender got that. Trying to do what was right could be scary (she was scared now) and confusing and people bolstered their morale in varied ways. Kyle was one of the volunteers today, performing the same function as Gyu-ri, and Lavender briefly considered trying to land in front of him instead. He'd probably be the more comfortable, safe option, but that was exactly why she'd leave him to the tending of others. Gyu-ri it was.
Wyatt, by sharp contrast to Kyle, Lavender pitied. He had a reputation he'd earned well, both for athletic prowess and for being an ignorant ass. Lavender was a cheerleader. She spent a lot of time in close proximity to the athletes, and she loved their teams as units. Most of the players, even those with their quirks and flaws, she admired in some fashion or another. Not Wyatt. Wyatt was the sort of guy who'd stick his fingers in his ears and then declare victory because he hadn't heard a cogent counterargument. He was, she told herself, a boy—a good ol' boy and a boys-will-be-boys boy and a boy in the sense of a mental, intellectual, and emotional age of approximately nine. She made herself hope he'd grow up, hope he'd someday reconsider his ignorance, hope he got suspended from the team for some misdeed or other as a potential first step. She didn't let herself consciously hope that he got hurt, humiliated, defeated. That wasn't the high road. If she found him in a need of a hand, she promised herself she'd extend it, but oh would it be grudging.
Lavender was glad Wyatt was here. She would've had to think pretty hard about whether she'd prefer exsanguination or getting a transfusion with him as the source, but if he wanted to bleed for the greater good maybe that was a first step. If someone else was making him do it, that was okay too. That was what society was about sometimes: the rehabilitation of the selfish and the antisocial.
Had he seen her? Odds were a lot of the people here recognized her just as she did them. Lavender absolutely couldn't wait for this to be done, to get right back in her car and drive home, or maybe go get a cup of coffee. She pulled her phone out, checked the time, flipped through it a little, made sure everything was all set, and put it away again.
The little cluster Lavender and Ned were in was at the tables now, in front of Gyu-ri and Kyle, and the lines had actually kind of blurred together. The guy who was in front of Gyu-ri finished his paperwork, and it looked like Kyle was free too, and Lavender and Ned were up at about the same time and she had one fleeting second of resurgent temptation to turn aside and go Kyle's direction but stifled it and straightened her back and stepped up to Gyu-ri.
Had she just cut Ned off? She hoped not, she hadn't been trying to, but she'd been pretty focused on her own thoughts and her wavering confidence. They'd been about parallel, maybe him a little bit in front. He could just go talk to Kyle, right? Kyle was nice. It was probably better for everyone this way. In any case, she was committed now.
"Hey, Gyu-ri," Lavender said, smiling. "How're you?"
Among the classmates Lavender recognized were Kyle Harrison and Wyatt Carter, who she felt quite differently about. Kyle had his heart in the right place. He was always ready to lend a hand, though perhaps with more enthusiasm than a given situation merited. Lavender got that. Trying to do what was right could be scary (she was scared now) and confusing and people bolstered their morale in varied ways. Kyle was one of the volunteers today, performing the same function as Gyu-ri, and Lavender briefly considered trying to land in front of him instead. He'd probably be the more comfortable, safe option, but that was exactly why she'd leave him to the tending of others. Gyu-ri it was.
Wyatt, by sharp contrast to Kyle, Lavender pitied. He had a reputation he'd earned well, both for athletic prowess and for being an ignorant ass. Lavender was a cheerleader. She spent a lot of time in close proximity to the athletes, and she loved their teams as units. Most of the players, even those with their quirks and flaws, she admired in some fashion or another. Not Wyatt. Wyatt was the sort of guy who'd stick his fingers in his ears and then declare victory because he hadn't heard a cogent counterargument. He was, she told herself, a boy—a good ol' boy and a boys-will-be-boys boy and a boy in the sense of a mental, intellectual, and emotional age of approximately nine. She made herself hope he'd grow up, hope he'd someday reconsider his ignorance, hope he got suspended from the team for some misdeed or other as a potential first step. She didn't let herself consciously hope that he got hurt, humiliated, defeated. That wasn't the high road. If she found him in a need of a hand, she promised herself she'd extend it, but oh would it be grudging.
Lavender was glad Wyatt was here. She would've had to think pretty hard about whether she'd prefer exsanguination or getting a transfusion with him as the source, but if he wanted to bleed for the greater good maybe that was a first step. If someone else was making him do it, that was okay too. That was what society was about sometimes: the rehabilitation of the selfish and the antisocial.
Had he seen her? Odds were a lot of the people here recognized her just as she did them. Lavender absolutely couldn't wait for this to be done, to get right back in her car and drive home, or maybe go get a cup of coffee. She pulled her phone out, checked the time, flipped through it a little, made sure everything was all set, and put it away again.
The little cluster Lavender and Ned were in was at the tables now, in front of Gyu-ri and Kyle, and the lines had actually kind of blurred together. The guy who was in front of Gyu-ri finished his paperwork, and it looked like Kyle was free too, and Lavender and Ned were up at about the same time and she had one fleeting second of resurgent temptation to turn aside and go Kyle's direction but stifled it and straightened her back and stepped up to Gyu-ri.
Had she just cut Ned off? She hoped not, she hadn't been trying to, but she'd been pretty focused on her own thoughts and her wavering confidence. They'd been about parallel, maybe him a little bit in front. He could just go talk to Kyle, right? Kyle was nice. It was probably better for everyone this way. In any case, she was committed now.
"Hey, Gyu-ri," Lavender said, smiling. "How're you?"
Avatar art by the lovely and inimitable Kotorikun
As he held the clipboard in hand and went down the list of pre-registered names, Claudeson Bademosi looked out at the slowly growing line with a sense of pride. It made him so happy to see such a varied collection of his fellow student body engaging in such a noble cause. Blood was a commodity that each of them had within themselves to give, and neither injury nor illness held any prejudices, so in his eyes, anyone that could make it out and donate was doing a great service to their fellow man. Claudeson smiled widely at the crowd as he stood a few feet behind the sign-in table.
This was a good effort - a good day.
He was glad he'd fought such a battle to make it out of bed.
((CLAUDESON BADEMOSI PREGAME START))
His fellow volunteers, Gyu-Ri and Kyle had already been hard at work with doing the manual set-up when he'd arrived, and so he'd been tasked with doing a bit of the administrative work of sorting out the names of those who'd pre registered online, sorting them into an alphabetical list, and highlighting the names to which information was inaccurate, missing, or didn't add up with what the school had on file for them. True to form, Claudeson had accepted the assignment with his usual vigor. Even though it was basic data entry, any way that he could be of service was fine with him. So here he stood, armed with a carefully colour-coded printout attached to the clipboard that contained the pertinent information of many that stood before him.
Closing the gap between him and the desk, he settled to a stop behind Kyle and Gyu-ri, looking down on his fellow volunteers. At exactly six feet tall, Claudeson towered over the both of them, but his posture was open, so as not to alarm. He extended the clipboard out between them, letting it settle gently on the desk between the two of them.
"Here are the list of pre-registered students. I already see a few familiar faces out there." He smiled, taking a small step back out of the personal space of his fellow volunteers. "The blue names are missing their student ID number, the pink ones need to fill in a blood-type, and the yellow ones have to provide an email address. Besides that, we should be good to go!"
Taking a moment to look around, he took stock of the set-up for the blood donation clinic. Post-donation snacks had been nicely laid out, and the few phlebotomists looked to have everything that they needed for their work, along with appropriate waste disposal bags and privacy screens. He'd seen Kyle setting the food up earlier, so he gently clapped him on the shoulder.
"Very nice job on the food setup, Kyle. I think everyone will appreciate it once they're done here."
Glancing back out into the slowly-forming crowd, he took note of those in attendance already. Lavender Ripley being there didn't surprise him at all - she was interested in a lot of the same social circles that he was, and he'd volunteered alongside her on numerous occasions. It was nice to see her. The same couldn't necessarily be said for one of the more surprising occupants of the gym - Wyatt Carter left a trail of brusque and hurtful language within his wake, and Lord help him if he didn't receive some sort of enlightenment as he grew up. Claudeson wasn't stupid - he knew that enlightenment came in many forms, not just spiritual, but my goodness, sometimes he thought that boy needed enlightenment in the form of a smack upside his head. To see him doing something uncharacteristically unselfish admittedly piqued his interest.
Finally, there was Ned Jackson, who Claudeson didn't exactly know very well, but he'd seen him in a few of the theatre productions that he'd helped man the front gates at. People seemed to genuinely like him, and Claude had marvelled that he really did an excellent job at changing up his voice or putting on an accent. He'd have to let him know when he came to the desk. Ned would enjoy hearing that, he was sure.
For a moment, he stood, listening to the murmur of the crowd as more people started to fill into the gymnasium. The good feelings dipped momentarily, replaced by a growling in the pit of his stomach. These people were just here for the money, for the credit, for any other reason than out of the goodness of their heart, weren't they?
He blinked the feelings away.
No.
What these people were doing was a service, and Claudeson was happy to assist. Moving up to the table, he found himself standing even with Kyle and Gyu-Ri. He righted his smile, and readied himself to help the first person who happened to head his way.
This was a good effort - a good day.
He was glad he'd fought such a battle to make it out of bed.
((CLAUDESON BADEMOSI PREGAME START))
His fellow volunteers, Gyu-Ri and Kyle had already been hard at work with doing the manual set-up when he'd arrived, and so he'd been tasked with doing a bit of the administrative work of sorting out the names of those who'd pre registered online, sorting them into an alphabetical list, and highlighting the names to which information was inaccurate, missing, or didn't add up with what the school had on file for them. True to form, Claudeson had accepted the assignment with his usual vigor. Even though it was basic data entry, any way that he could be of service was fine with him. So here he stood, armed with a carefully colour-coded printout attached to the clipboard that contained the pertinent information of many that stood before him.
Closing the gap between him and the desk, he settled to a stop behind Kyle and Gyu-ri, looking down on his fellow volunteers. At exactly six feet tall, Claudeson towered over the both of them, but his posture was open, so as not to alarm. He extended the clipboard out between them, letting it settle gently on the desk between the two of them.
"Here are the list of pre-registered students. I already see a few familiar faces out there." He smiled, taking a small step back out of the personal space of his fellow volunteers. "The blue names are missing their student ID number, the pink ones need to fill in a blood-type, and the yellow ones have to provide an email address. Besides that, we should be good to go!"
Taking a moment to look around, he took stock of the set-up for the blood donation clinic. Post-donation snacks had been nicely laid out, and the few phlebotomists looked to have everything that they needed for their work, along with appropriate waste disposal bags and privacy screens. He'd seen Kyle setting the food up earlier, so he gently clapped him on the shoulder.
"Very nice job on the food setup, Kyle. I think everyone will appreciate it once they're done here."
Glancing back out into the slowly-forming crowd, he took note of those in attendance already. Lavender Ripley being there didn't surprise him at all - she was interested in a lot of the same social circles that he was, and he'd volunteered alongside her on numerous occasions. It was nice to see her. The same couldn't necessarily be said for one of the more surprising occupants of the gym - Wyatt Carter left a trail of brusque and hurtful language within his wake, and Lord help him if he didn't receive some sort of enlightenment as he grew up. Claudeson wasn't stupid - he knew that enlightenment came in many forms, not just spiritual, but my goodness, sometimes he thought that boy needed enlightenment in the form of a smack upside his head. To see him doing something uncharacteristically unselfish admittedly piqued his interest.
Finally, there was Ned Jackson, who Claudeson didn't exactly know very well, but he'd seen him in a few of the theatre productions that he'd helped man the front gates at. People seemed to genuinely like him, and Claude had marvelled that he really did an excellent job at changing up his voice or putting on an accent. He'd have to let him know when he came to the desk. Ned would enjoy hearing that, he was sure.
For a moment, he stood, listening to the murmur of the crowd as more people started to fill into the gymnasium. The good feelings dipped momentarily, replaced by a growling in the pit of his stomach. These people were just here for the money, for the credit, for any other reason than out of the goodness of their heart, weren't they?
He blinked the feelings away.
No.
What these people were doing was a service, and Claudeson was happy to assist. Moving up to the table, he found himself standing even with Kyle and Gyu-Ri. He righted his smile, and readied himself to help the first person who happened to head his way.
"All right." Kyle acknowledged Gyu-ri's acknowledgement of his statement. "So let's make it a good one, all right?"
He gave her a quick thumbs-up before returning his hands to his table, crossed and resting in front of him with the sign-up sheet situated right near his fingertips. The blood drive usually saw a decent crowd, so he had a feeling that he was going to be doing a lot of talking and mild direction-giving before the day was done. He already had most of it planned out in his head. Introduction, signing-in, then pointing the donors in the right direction to give their donation. Same process as always. No reason to change what worked, so he never had to do anything different. The repetition of the process didn't bother him, though. It was all for a good purpose, so if that meant the next few hours might be a little boring, then he could stomach it.
A cheerful nod was given to Claudeson as the much larger boy appraised the situation and gave Kyle some praise in his efforts in setting up the refreshments for those who had already given their donations. Just one quick gesture to affirm that he heard him, then his focus was immediately back to the task at hand. A crowd was starting to come in, and Kyle was ready. He had the pen at the ready for the sign-in sheet, and he maintained his bright, enthusiastic air for the donors. Gyu-ri was the first to get a line formed in front of her, but Kyle remained ready for the first person to come to him. He took his pen and twirled it once between his fingers before holding it steadily in position, ready to hand it off once the time came.
Boy, there really was a crowd building. He wondered how big it would get.
He gave her a quick thumbs-up before returning his hands to his table, crossed and resting in front of him with the sign-up sheet situated right near his fingertips. The blood drive usually saw a decent crowd, so he had a feeling that he was going to be doing a lot of talking and mild direction-giving before the day was done. He already had most of it planned out in his head. Introduction, signing-in, then pointing the donors in the right direction to give their donation. Same process as always. No reason to change what worked, so he never had to do anything different. The repetition of the process didn't bother him, though. It was all for a good purpose, so if that meant the next few hours might be a little boring, then he could stomach it.
A cheerful nod was given to Claudeson as the much larger boy appraised the situation and gave Kyle some praise in his efforts in setting up the refreshments for those who had already given their donations. Just one quick gesture to affirm that he heard him, then his focus was immediately back to the task at hand. A crowd was starting to come in, and Kyle was ready. He had the pen at the ready for the sign-in sheet, and he maintained his bright, enthusiastic air for the donors. Gyu-ri was the first to get a line formed in front of her, but Kyle remained ready for the first person to come to him. He took his pen and twirled it once between his fingers before holding it steadily in position, ready to hand it off once the time came.
Boy, there really was a crowd building. He wondered how big it would get.
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
Dear fucking lord, Wyatt felt like he'd been standing in line for a month.
Okay, common sense told him it hadn't been that long; the doors had just opened so at least the line must have been moving, and so all this time of just standing around twiddling his thumbs was about to come to an end. Then he'd have to take that boring questionnaire they always gave everybody: a lot of glancing at questions, picking out key words, slapping 'yes' or 'no'. Did you spend time in prison? Were you in Europe for a set amount of time? You ever puff another dude's pickle, even once? Then fuck you, we don't want your blood. Wyatt wasn't so sure why there was always such a huge hangup about taking blood from fudgepackers when all that shit gets tested for AIDS anyway (and if they don't, somebody better be fired yesterday), but the sentiment gave him a good chuckle. The gays weren't missing out on much anyway, just a prick on one end delivering a prick to the other.
He held out his left arm absentmindedly while waiting for his turn, turning his palm upward and flexing then releasing his fingers. Aww yeah... that was a nice fucking vein he had going, like usual. If the quack taking his blood managed to miss that, then they needed to find a new job. Actually, these guys were all volunteers anyway, weren't they? Shit, that little fact always gave him a sour feeling because volunteers so seldom gave a damn. He could already see the bitch in horn-rimmed glasses and a 'let me speak to your manager' haircut sticking her nose into some romance novel, trying to jab the needle with the other hand. When the imaginary dart slid under his skin, he dropped and shook his arm. Having the needle shoved into his muscle just once was bad enough; he never wanted to feel THAT again.
No sense in pussing out now, though, Wyatt decided. Line moving, people signing in... taking their sweet time about it and trying to have conversations, but signing in all the same, and that meant he'd be up next.
"We got an expedition line or something? Some of us have places to do, stuff to do," Wyatt lied, pinching his card between two fingers and waggling it above the general eye level of the line.
Okay, common sense told him it hadn't been that long; the doors had just opened so at least the line must have been moving, and so all this time of just standing around twiddling his thumbs was about to come to an end. Then he'd have to take that boring questionnaire they always gave everybody: a lot of glancing at questions, picking out key words, slapping 'yes' or 'no'. Did you spend time in prison? Were you in Europe for a set amount of time? You ever puff another dude's pickle, even once? Then fuck you, we don't want your blood. Wyatt wasn't so sure why there was always such a huge hangup about taking blood from fudgepackers when all that shit gets tested for AIDS anyway (and if they don't, somebody better be fired yesterday), but the sentiment gave him a good chuckle. The gays weren't missing out on much anyway, just a prick on one end delivering a prick to the other.
He held out his left arm absentmindedly while waiting for his turn, turning his palm upward and flexing then releasing his fingers. Aww yeah... that was a nice fucking vein he had going, like usual. If the quack taking his blood managed to miss that, then they needed to find a new job. Actually, these guys were all volunteers anyway, weren't they? Shit, that little fact always gave him a sour feeling because volunteers so seldom gave a damn. He could already see the bitch in horn-rimmed glasses and a 'let me speak to your manager' haircut sticking her nose into some romance novel, trying to jab the needle with the other hand. When the imaginary dart slid under his skin, he dropped and shook his arm. Having the needle shoved into his muscle just once was bad enough; he never wanted to feel THAT again.
No sense in pussing out now, though, Wyatt decided. Line moving, people signing in... taking their sweet time about it and trying to have conversations, but signing in all the same, and that meant he'd be up next.
"We got an expedition line or something? Some of us have places to do, stuff to do," Wyatt lied, pinching his card between two fingers and waggling it above the general eye level of the line.
"So let's make it a good one, all right?"
"I, nnh-... yes. Let's."
As usual her vocally delivery was utterly incompetent and the frayed nerves powering her vocalizations failed to fit together like rusty and misshapen cogs.
One person passed without further incident. Gyu-ri's drooling caveperson of an internal monologue bashed away at innumerable unfathomably irrelevant details, most of them far too explicit and nonexistent to matter. She disliked being assaulted by thoughts so deeply sacrilegious and pointlessly unstoppable. She had no choice, and there was no point dwelling on it further.
Wyatt, anyways, would break her down the middle seam. Gyu-ri didn't need an unwanted mental phantasm projected in grossly high fidelity to wrestle with that particular logic.
Gyu-ri's hands felt holographically projected away from her body without paper to shuffle around, they felt as almost alien entities forged to her body arbitrarily. She grabbed at the first one available, which came welded to a clipboard and to the presence of another person whose name she was familiar with wherein the knowledge would sometimes squirm and burn in her front lobe, a headache in the form of a fresh off the oven branding iron. Claudeson Bademosi, who Gyu-ri also respected for tireless capacity for service and selflessness- that she herself certainly had no ability to aspire to, though her feelings on the matter were irrelevant- and he seemed to have found a balance of sanctimony that was effective and not overbearing. He, like Kyle, belonged here and she did not. She of course had to glance the way of the clipboard and appraise it and memorize it fully as much as she could handle such effort while dealing at once with issues of Claudeson and Lavender and apparently Wyatt, additionally.
The clipboard was standard size as per her ability to recall the dimensions of clipboards she had seen before in her life: in aggregate, so on. The names were innumerable, or perhaps Gyu-ri was exaggerating the contents because every neatly printed letter would bubble like the expansion of the universe into an infinity of space all its own when she tried to appraise it, and as usual there was far too much information for her to try and digest in one go but she simply did so anyways and made good haste of it. Point five seconds and she could determine who was and who was not pre-registered and all the names crowed in unison in her head like an amorphous and tonelessly cacophonous symphony.
The only immediately pertinent information, of course, was that Lavender was not pre-registered and she would need to fill out the complete form. Gyu-ri digested all the other irrelevant information simultaneously, and felt a certain mental indigestion for it.
All the while her odd film reel of pointlessly crude thoughts she wasn't actually thinking continued to churn through her mind's eye. No effect, she remained stubbornly uncaring about it and everything else for that matter. Her lips were set neutrally, a single stray bang of orange had fused to her eyebrow and wispily trailed down further, Gyu-ri clawed at it with her usual overly expressive and furious swipes, her usual tic of coming off as slightly deranged, she was sure. Once and twice the hair refused to move and she stubbornly kept at it until it was gone.
"I'm fine. Thanks for asking. And, mm..." Gyu-ri ploddingly stole away a paper from Kyle's side of the queue- forgetting that she had her own pile to her own left- and offered it to Lavender along with a pen, politely holding it up for easiest access angle. "You are. Um.. I'm happy to see you here. Your devotion to service is always-" Gyu-ri angrily pointed out to herself, internally, concurrent to her speaking, that her phrasing was stilited and ridiculous and no human being with a normal brain spoke like that- 'normal brain', therein was likely where she'd gone wrong.
"- Appreciated. Uh.. admirable, if I may- I guess- say." Her tone fluctuated between a question and an answer.
Wyatt was shouting something and Gyu-ri briefly went cross-eyed trying to consider Lavender and Wyatt at once, and the pain was fairly brief before her pupils settled back to their standard positions but it was likely she'd bought herself a good additional chunk of time closer to permanent debilitating nerve damage to her ocular muscles. She had no proof save the blaring alarm in her head telling her so, and she was probably full of it, but she felt some odd dread anyways.
She knew better than to speak up, someone else would likely handle Wyatt and she'd be an idiot for trying. Still, the urge to shunt her responsibilities wayward, toward the loud and over muscled one, was a strong siren call. She had to suppress instinct with logic- the louder one was not necessarily the one who was supposed to have her attention, much as her ridiculous reptile brain insisted otherwise.
"You'll need to answer all the questions to the best of your ability."
"I, nnh-... yes. Let's."
As usual her vocally delivery was utterly incompetent and the frayed nerves powering her vocalizations failed to fit together like rusty and misshapen cogs.
One person passed without further incident. Gyu-ri's drooling caveperson of an internal monologue bashed away at innumerable unfathomably irrelevant details, most of them far too explicit and nonexistent to matter. She disliked being assaulted by thoughts so deeply sacrilegious and pointlessly unstoppable. She had no choice, and there was no point dwelling on it further.
Wyatt, anyways, would break her down the middle seam. Gyu-ri didn't need an unwanted mental phantasm projected in grossly high fidelity to wrestle with that particular logic.
Gyu-ri's hands felt holographically projected away from her body without paper to shuffle around, they felt as almost alien entities forged to her body arbitrarily. She grabbed at the first one available, which came welded to a clipboard and to the presence of another person whose name she was familiar with wherein the knowledge would sometimes squirm and burn in her front lobe, a headache in the form of a fresh off the oven branding iron. Claudeson Bademosi, who Gyu-ri also respected for tireless capacity for service and selflessness- that she herself certainly had no ability to aspire to, though her feelings on the matter were irrelevant- and he seemed to have found a balance of sanctimony that was effective and not overbearing. He, like Kyle, belonged here and she did not. She of course had to glance the way of the clipboard and appraise it and memorize it fully as much as she could handle such effort while dealing at once with issues of Claudeson and Lavender and apparently Wyatt, additionally.
The clipboard was standard size as per her ability to recall the dimensions of clipboards she had seen before in her life: in aggregate, so on. The names were innumerable, or perhaps Gyu-ri was exaggerating the contents because every neatly printed letter would bubble like the expansion of the universe into an infinity of space all its own when she tried to appraise it, and as usual there was far too much information for her to try and digest in one go but she simply did so anyways and made good haste of it. Point five seconds and she could determine who was and who was not pre-registered and all the names crowed in unison in her head like an amorphous and tonelessly cacophonous symphony.
The only immediately pertinent information, of course, was that Lavender was not pre-registered and she would need to fill out the complete form. Gyu-ri digested all the other irrelevant information simultaneously, and felt a certain mental indigestion for it.
All the while her odd film reel of pointlessly crude thoughts she wasn't actually thinking continued to churn through her mind's eye. No effect, she remained stubbornly uncaring about it and everything else for that matter. Her lips were set neutrally, a single stray bang of orange had fused to her eyebrow and wispily trailed down further, Gyu-ri clawed at it with her usual overly expressive and furious swipes, her usual tic of coming off as slightly deranged, she was sure. Once and twice the hair refused to move and she stubbornly kept at it until it was gone.
"I'm fine. Thanks for asking. And, mm..." Gyu-ri ploddingly stole away a paper from Kyle's side of the queue- forgetting that she had her own pile to her own left- and offered it to Lavender along with a pen, politely holding it up for easiest access angle. "You are. Um.. I'm happy to see you here. Your devotion to service is always-" Gyu-ri angrily pointed out to herself, internally, concurrent to her speaking, that her phrasing was stilited and ridiculous and no human being with a normal brain spoke like that- 'normal brain', therein was likely where she'd gone wrong.
"- Appreciated. Uh.. admirable, if I may- I guess- say." Her tone fluctuated between a question and an answer.
Wyatt was shouting something and Gyu-ri briefly went cross-eyed trying to consider Lavender and Wyatt at once, and the pain was fairly brief before her pupils settled back to their standard positions but it was likely she'd bought herself a good additional chunk of time closer to permanent debilitating nerve damage to her ocular muscles. She had no proof save the blaring alarm in her head telling her so, and she was probably full of it, but she felt some odd dread anyways.
She knew better than to speak up, someone else would likely handle Wyatt and she'd be an idiot for trying. Still, the urge to shunt her responsibilities wayward, toward the loud and over muscled one, was a strong siren call. She had to suppress instinct with logic- the louder one was not necessarily the one who was supposed to have her attention, much as her ridiculous reptile brain insisted otherwise.
"You'll need to answer all the questions to the best of your ability."
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
Ned walked up to where Kyle was sitting. Just then, Wyatt said something about an expedition line, saying some people have places to go and stuff to do. Ned could not deny that. After all, Ned was hopefully going to the movies after the blood drive. He could tell from Wyatt's tone that he was getting impatient. Ned quickly turned his attention towards the sign up table, lest he invoke the thin-tempered Wyatt's wrath. Before he forgot, Ned took out his donor card and showed it to Kyle.
"Morning," Ned said to Kyle, trying to keep pleasant. Kyle handed Ned the signing sheet, and as Ned filled it out, he took quick glances behind him towards Wyatt.
"Some people are in quite the hurry today," Ned continued to Kyle quietly, "but I wonder if they really have plans, or do they just want to get out of here?"
Ned finished signing and handed Kyle back the paper.
"Morning," Ned said to Kyle, trying to keep pleasant. Kyle handed Ned the signing sheet, and as Ned filled it out, he took quick glances behind him towards Wyatt.
"Some people are in quite the hurry today," Ned continued to Kyle quietly, "but I wonder if they really have plans, or do they just want to get out of here?"
Ned finished signing and handed Kyle back the paper.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2565
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
"Thanks," Lavender said, smiling again and starting to feel more calm but also a little bad. Gyu-ri seemed distracted, scattered or out of it, and the day ahead of her would be a long one. She was doing something good, something necessary to save lives, and didn't deserve to suffer because of that. Lavender took the laminated sheet from the girl and started looking it over, aware all the while of the weight of her phone in her blazer pocket and the press of classmates surrounding her and surging towards the other volunteers. The room was densely-packed. Would Kyle and Ned be able to hear what passed between her and Gyu-ri? Would Wyatt? Claudeson Bademosi might well. He was another good guy, another of the sort Lavender expected to find here, doing his best to keep spirits high.
The page in front of her was more or less just like she'd seen online. She'd done her research well, but still she went down the sheet line by line, reading each item, making her consideration of each point obvious. Her nerves were still there, a little more again now that she'd spotted Claudeson, and taking her time helped her put off the inevitable for just a few seconds longer.
Lavender's blood type was O+. She was not HIV positive. She'd been tested even though it seemed vanishingly unlikely. Responsibility and safety were important; that was something her parents had taught her and supported her in. Similarly, she had never had Hepatitis B or C, and was as sure as she could be that she did not have Hepatitis now. She had never been injected with illegal drugs of any sort, including heroin or performance-enhancing steroids, not even once. Truth be told, as un-hip as it was to admit, Lavender had never even smoked weed. She wasn't much for drinking, either, not that those last two factored on the blood donation form.
She had never prostituted herself for drugs or money. She hadn't prostituted herself for anything else, either, though the form wasn't concerned about that. Perhaps the theory was that anyone you blew in the bathroom between classes for the answers to a quiz probably didn't get around enough to have caught anything. More likely it was an oversight, or else the phrasing was just a roundabout way of avoiding actually using the word "prostitute" which was emotionally charged for a lot of people, an attitude which probably did neither prostitutes nor society as a whole any favors.
In the past twelve months, to the best of her knowledge, Lavender had not had sex with anyone HIV positive, anyone infected with Hepatitis B or C, anyone shooting up illegally, or any prostitutes. She similarly was pretty sure that she had not had sex with anybody who had ever had sex in a part of the world where HIV/AIDS was particularly common, including "most countries in Africa."
But none of that mattered anyways as she came to the next question, the question she'd know would be here from the start—the question, in fact, that was the very reason she was here herself, the reason she was nervous, the reason she'd chosen Gyu-ri instead of somebody unambiguously pleasant and altruistic like Kyle. The tip of her finger hovered over the box, and for a split second Lavender was struck by an impulse to lie, to take the coward's route and become a hypocrite worse than those she took issue with today, but she was only in this situation because she'd chosen to be and she would see it through. This was about solidarity and making a statement and helping push the world to be a better place. She'd just been telling herself that.
She marked yes, and didn't bother progressing further on the form. Instead, she looked up and searched for Gyu-ri's eyes. The bustle and murmur of the gymnasium was still there, still obvious, but it no longer mattered. She no longer cared who might overhear. Let them. When she spoke, her voice was calm, and all uncertainty drained away. She was neither loud nor quiet, making no effort either to broadcast or to conceal.
"This one," Lavender said, flipping the paper around and gesturing to the box she'd just stopped at, the one that revealed that, in the past twelve months, she had had sex with a man who had engaged in sexual activities with other men (with or without a condom or other form of protection). "This one applies to me. I've done this.
"Is that going to be a problem?"
The page in front of her was more or less just like she'd seen online. She'd done her research well, but still she went down the sheet line by line, reading each item, making her consideration of each point obvious. Her nerves were still there, a little more again now that she'd spotted Claudeson, and taking her time helped her put off the inevitable for just a few seconds longer.
Lavender's blood type was O+. She was not HIV positive. She'd been tested even though it seemed vanishingly unlikely. Responsibility and safety were important; that was something her parents had taught her and supported her in. Similarly, she had never had Hepatitis B or C, and was as sure as she could be that she did not have Hepatitis now. She had never been injected with illegal drugs of any sort, including heroin or performance-enhancing steroids, not even once. Truth be told, as un-hip as it was to admit, Lavender had never even smoked weed. She wasn't much for drinking, either, not that those last two factored on the blood donation form.
She had never prostituted herself for drugs or money. She hadn't prostituted herself for anything else, either, though the form wasn't concerned about that. Perhaps the theory was that anyone you blew in the bathroom between classes for the answers to a quiz probably didn't get around enough to have caught anything. More likely it was an oversight, or else the phrasing was just a roundabout way of avoiding actually using the word "prostitute" which was emotionally charged for a lot of people, an attitude which probably did neither prostitutes nor society as a whole any favors.
In the past twelve months, to the best of her knowledge, Lavender had not had sex with anyone HIV positive, anyone infected with Hepatitis B or C, anyone shooting up illegally, or any prostitutes. She similarly was pretty sure that she had not had sex with anybody who had ever had sex in a part of the world where HIV/AIDS was particularly common, including "most countries in Africa."
But none of that mattered anyways as she came to the next question, the question she'd know would be here from the start—the question, in fact, that was the very reason she was here herself, the reason she was nervous, the reason she'd chosen Gyu-ri instead of somebody unambiguously pleasant and altruistic like Kyle. The tip of her finger hovered over the box, and for a split second Lavender was struck by an impulse to lie, to take the coward's route and become a hypocrite worse than those she took issue with today, but she was only in this situation because she'd chosen to be and she would see it through. This was about solidarity and making a statement and helping push the world to be a better place. She'd just been telling herself that.
She marked yes, and didn't bother progressing further on the form. Instead, she looked up and searched for Gyu-ri's eyes. The bustle and murmur of the gymnasium was still there, still obvious, but it no longer mattered. She no longer cared who might overhear. Let them. When she spoke, her voice was calm, and all uncertainty drained away. She was neither loud nor quiet, making no effort either to broadcast or to conceal.
"This one," Lavender said, flipping the paper around and gesturing to the box she'd just stopped at, the one that revealed that, in the past twelve months, she had had sex with a man who had engaged in sexual activities with other men (with or without a condom or other form of protection). "This one applies to me. I've done this.
"Is that going to be a problem?"
Avatar art by the lovely and inimitable Kotorikun
Through the course of high school, there were certain people that Claudeson Bademosi made an effort not to find himself in conversation with. While a generally altruistic sort of guy, there were certain people that, while potentially engaging, checked off virtually all of the boxes that he found unpleasant and spoke to only when necessary. The next person in line filled that definition to a tee, and as he smiled and gestured at the large form of Wyatt Carter, Claude wondered how many conversations that he'd actually had with the brusque senior.
"Come on over here, Wyatt. We'll get you moving in no time."
There were numerous passages in scripture that taught one to 'love your neighbour as you love yourself', but people like the mountain-sized Carter brother sometimes made it very, very hard to spread that love. Keeping the smile on his face, he wondered what people would say if he really did treat Wyatt with the same esteem that he held himself to. That'd be something.
Placing the clipboard in his hands on the table in front of him, he pushed it towards Wyatt, holding out his hands to expedite the large boy's journey through the line. The other two volunteers beside him were already engrossed in their administrative duties with other students, and once more he felt the sense of pride that service often brought him. This was a good thing to be doing, and if having to have one potentially unpleasant conversation was the price to pay to do some good on a larger scale, Claudeson was absolutely fine with that.
"Good morning, Wyatt. Thank you so much for coming out. The community really appreciates your support, no doubt. Did you have the pre-registration forms, or will you need to fill one out here?"
The smile never left his face.
"Come on over here, Wyatt. We'll get you moving in no time."
There were numerous passages in scripture that taught one to 'love your neighbour as you love yourself', but people like the mountain-sized Carter brother sometimes made it very, very hard to spread that love. Keeping the smile on his face, he wondered what people would say if he really did treat Wyatt with the same esteem that he held himself to. That'd be something.
Placing the clipboard in his hands on the table in front of him, he pushed it towards Wyatt, holding out his hands to expedite the large boy's journey through the line. The other two volunteers beside him were already engrossed in their administrative duties with other students, and once more he felt the sense of pride that service often brought him. This was a good thing to be doing, and if having to have one potentially unpleasant conversation was the price to pay to do some good on a larger scale, Claudeson was absolutely fine with that.
"Good morning, Wyatt. Thank you so much for coming out. The community really appreciates your support, no doubt. Did you have the pre-registration forms, or will you need to fill one out here?"
The smile never left his face.