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Brand New Breeze (or for short, BNB) is a roleplay forum based on the anime "La Corda d'Oro". We don't have a serious plot yet, which means that you may all chill out and enjoy your school life at Seiso to the fullest! But how long will those peaceful days last? Stay tuned to learn about the challenges Seiso Academy has yet to face...!
Feel free to join us, we're always happy to see new roleplayers! Latest Plot Development: "The price of the land in which Seisou is located has risen and Kira decides to move the school to somewhere else. But since he can't find a large place big enough for both departments, he wants to seperate the two departments. Both music ed. and gen-ed. students decide to work hand in hand and to rescue their school." THE ROLEPLAYING SECTION IS APPARENTLY ON TEMPORARY HIATUS Completed Reviews: 0/2 Tsuchiura Ryotarou (Kay) Honda Arina (Akahana) |
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| The Danse Macabre; {open to all.} | |
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| Topic Started: Jun 5 2009, 12:17 AM (175 Views) | |
| Miss Avarice | Jun 5 2009, 12:17 AM Post #1 |
 
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The Danse Macabre "So wise so young, they say do never live long." - Shakespeare ~*~ She was missing something. She noted this as she perused her papers after school, hair done up with strands of black hair hanging down next to her angular features (Miss Barracuda, they secretly called her, and she didn't mind one bit.) The composition teacher wasn't in the mood for being nice. She was looking for something. Narrowed her eyes and peered down at her papers. Missing. Something was missing. (There were rows upon rows of symphonies, neatly stacked and coded by composer, Symphony No. 40 by Mozart, Wagenseil's Italian-styled symphonies, even suites by Shostakovich and the eminent Tchaikovsky. She was fond of the Russians.) Pulling a strand of hair behind her ear, she bit her lip and swiveled around in her office, looking around. She was a neat freak, Kita had reminded her once, and lived up to every obsessive-compulsive expectation her parents had set for her. The entire office was without clutter, but she could see that one single piece was out of place. Gone with the wind. She would not stand for this. Whomever had vandalized her office would pay. (Narrowed eyes and a haughty exterior gave way to even sharper claws in the form of power and her rather unsettling and effective way of wielding the thing -- her students would either live in fear or awe of her, and she wouldn't have it any other way.) Saint-Saëns. She digressed on the matter of the composer and stood flipping through his works. Havanaise. Samson and Delilah. An oboe sonata in D major. Chant saphique for cello-- ah. Danse macabre, op. 40 -- something of a crowning joy for him in her eyes. It began with the harp (the clock) striking twelve times, for midnight so the bones could rise up from the earth and dance for Death's fiddle, and there it was stored in her memory from dusty CDs that her father played over and over again, reminding her of her only purpose in life. The piano. Composition. The piano. Composition. She brushed her fingers over the folder where the entire score should have been, with its shrieking strings and ominous bellowing brass section, but it was empty. (She was about to have a heart attack before her fingers closed around a single sticky note where, in scrawling print--) Forgot music. Borrowed yours. There was no one else in the entire school with the audacity to barge into her private office (private, mind you!) and take her score sheet that she had ordered from the online store with her own money-- he couldn't just waltz in and take it, could he?! Oh, she was going to kill him. Nakamura Kaede was scary enough when she was calm and looking into your eyes with a slightly opportunistic gleam glittering in her own (this is the point where she says "And why didn't you practice, my dear?"), but flying into a rage made everyone else in the entire school avoid her for the day. Students skipped lessons if it was whispered that the notorious Ice Queen was having another one of her random fits, and she'd stay behind locked doors composing, banging on that Fazioli piano of hers, or generally being rude. (She reined herself in only for her superiors, and even then it was a stretch.) The sight of said woman walking down the hallway in her twenty-three-year-old youth with clicking heels and a nasty, determined sort of grin slash grimace on her face would strike terror in the hearts of anyone, let alone the rather reclusive orchestra conductor. She made her way over to the orchestra room, where he stayed after school almost every day to help his idiotic students or work on his conducting skills or just lounge around until his workday was over, and she knew he'd be there. (She never planned and she never really thought before she acted, because Nakamura Kaede is not someone who thinks ahead. Really.) The doors slammed open with quite the loud bang and she paused momentarily in the doorway, as the entire orchestra cut off in the middle of the Danse Macabre -- her Dance Macabre, with the trembling harpist still plucking in spasms at her instrument and finally, Mr. Kita Hototo in his wonderful and sardonic and narcissistic glory turned around and she had at least, the good grace to snap; "YOU TOOK MY MUSIC, IDIOT!" and then walked out, the doors slamming shut behind her yet again. Never mind that it had been the middle of a class and never mind that he was going to be oh-so-angry with her later. Like we said, Nakamura Kaede really did not think things through (and she quite enjoyed herself as she walked back to her office with the sweet taste of victory in her smile.) It was only hours later when the results came back in the form of her going back to the same room where he was most likely very very busy with some student, going over lines and charts and graphs but she didn't care. She wanted her music back. He was going to give it to her, or she would subject him to many nasty things that she had thought up in her spare minutes of morbidity and sallow wallowing, annoyance and distaste like bile at the back of her mouth. Of course, he is your friend. You could stand to let him borrow some music once in a while, a little niggling voice at the back of her head mumbled at her while she stamped down the hallway with the subtlety of a wounded giraffe. See, this is why everyone abandons you? Obviously, the voice was clearly lying. People abandoned her because they were jealous. Clearly. Obviously. Yes. Right. Correct. (She pushed the doors open, this time a little softer as she saw him sitting next to the score sheets, ruminating over Bizet's L'Arlesienne and looking rather miserable, much to her clearly articulated happiness.) "Well, are you going to give me my music back or not?" "...You interrupted my class." He gave her a look that was laced with arsenic and daggers. Evidently, it must be the ultimate sin, but she was unfazed all the while. "You stole my music." "You interrupted my class. I'd say we're even, Nakamura-sensei." His brow twitched with annoyance and he drawled the last word with clear sarcasm etched there, and she was riled again. (He knew what buttons to push and my god did he push them.) She narrowed her eyes. This was war. "Music, please, Kita-kun." She held out her hand and placed the other on her hip and wiggled her fingers. "Now." "Don't insult me, brat. You may be my age but at least I can get through a class without sending the kids out in tears. You don't have half the ability you need." She contemplated storming out, but not without the music -- definitely not without the music. (She seethed and refrained from snapping even further.) "At least I have composing talent, you fool," she hissed, "and we're still avoiding the fact that I need that music, for Kami's sake. Now, I'm sorry--" she spat out, "--for interrupting your class, Kita-sensei. But I need it for a paper I'm writing on Saint-Saëns, so if you could just give me that--" she said, making a grab for the score-- "Sorry? Sorry, huh?" his eyes narrowed before he lunged from his chair at her, tossing an arm around her back and hefting her up across his shoulder like a disobedient child-- "You want your music back? Fine, let's go put it back all neat and tidy where it belongs." "WHAT THE--" He almost immediately plopped her back onto the ground and resumed his previous position with the score balanced in his lap and conductor's markings littered all over. Stunned silence, and then a piercing shriek. "KITA HOTOTO! I WILL KILL YOU IF YOU DO NOT GIVE ME THAT SHEET MUSIC BACK--" and she lunged again, but he merely held the thing out of her reach, dangling it in the air like a carrot for an unwilling donkey. "--I AM GOING TO MURDER YOU AND YOUR FAMILY AND EVERYONE CLOSE TO YOU AND I WILL GET YOU FIRED IF YOU DO NOT GIVE ME BACK THAT MUSIC MY GOD I HATE YOU SOMETIMES WOULD YOU JUST GIVE IT BACK AND WOULD IT KILL YOU TO NOT BE SUCH AN IDIOTIC JERK--!" ooc; Uh, now students or whatever can come in, for various reasons, I suppose. Either they heard Kaede's temper tantrum and wanted to investigate, or they were looking for Kita because they're his student, or make it up. ^^ Sorry for such a long post -- Dirge and I worked out Kita and Kaede's interactions, so I'm not powerplaying. :D Edited by Miss Avarice, Jun 5 2009, 04:30 AM.
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| KuraiSakura | Jun 5 2009, 07:00 AM Post #2 |
Procrastinator to the Extreme
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Usually, the ringing of the dismissal bell was the one single sound Yuuko waited eagerly to hear at school. Today however, she was not looking foward to whatever would transpire after classes. Last night, her parents had drilled her with their habitual questions regarding school and any events occuring on campus, except this time, they requested, no, insisted that Yuuko fetch them a written progress report (Honestly, who hands those out anymore?) from her piano instructor. And, of course, they held a hostage: should Yuuko fail to bring back said written report, her Internet access from the home computer would be cut off for a week, at the very least. Of course, Yuuko could always access the Internet from her laptop, but then that would only offer half of the games she had her disposal; quite a dire situation in her mind indeed. What if her mind turned fickle and she decided she wanted to play an online game on the Internet-less computer? What if her laptop had trouble accessing the Internet (such a circumstance would render half her games on the sleek device worthless)? What if her laptop itself somehow became infected with numerous viruses, crashed, and flashed her the Blue Screen of Doom?! Yuuko shuddered at the thought; surely requesting a written progress report from the strictest teacher she has ever come to known could not be as mind-breaking as the unbearably bright blue screen, right? Ah, yes, the teacher, Nakamura-sensei. How she ever came to be a student of the Ice Queen was a question Yuuko would kill (maybe not that extreme...) for an answer. Getting on the good side of such an instructor, if that was ever possible, was certainly no easy task, especially if you had a habit of not taking your lessons as seriously as your ambitious peers. Nevertheless, Nakamura-sensei was a teacher to be admired -- and, for Yuuko, it was preferable for her musical talents, or lack thereof, to be admonished rather than falsely praised. Yuuko took quite a while to get to the instructor's office and, after several minutes of hesitation, finally knocked on the door. A slight wave of relief washed over her when she realized her instructor wasn't present. But, where could she possibly have gone? Without that written report, Yuuko was worried that she would suffer from withdrawal symptoms during a week without Internet access on her computer (Perhaps this is bordering too much on addiction~). Without a thought, Yuuko began wandering down the halls absentmindedly, her head tilted slightly upwards with the day's hazel eyes blankly observing the ceiling as she passed. "And to think, I could be a part of a party venturing into a dungeon right now," she lamented as she heaved a sigh. "Or maybe solving a puzzle to get closer to finding a mysterious artifact, or gathering items in a torch-lit cave to combine for a useful tool, or..." Her voice trailed as she continued listing all the possible scenarios she could find in several of the games sitting on her home computer to no one in particular. Such a pleasant string a fantasies was immediately shattered when a loud shriek came echoing down the hall, alerting Yuuko that she was indeed heading in the correct direction. And with such an outburst, it was no difficult task pinpointing which room the enraged teacher was in. It didn't take long before she stood outside the door, unintentionally absorbing the words her instructor was screaming. Despite knowing she'd have to face the incredibly peeved teacher in a few moments, Yuuko couldn't help but smirk. Nakamura-sensei's arguments with her colleagues were always entertaining to listen to. After a few mental debates on whether or not to interrupt the two instructors, Yuuko raised a fist to the door, hesitating a moment before knocking the door once with her knuckles before immediately retreating to the other side of the hallways, bracing for the possibility that the doors would swing violently open as the Ice Queen emerged. But of course, a part of her hoped (Why bother hoping?) that the light tap would go unnoticed. |
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| Dirge | Jun 11 2009, 05:53 AM Post #3 |
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Nakamura was just settling herself in for a nice long rant when Kita heard something very like a light rap of knuckles against his door. "Hm..?" He began to rise, but Nakamura was all but thrown across his lap trying to snatch the music sheet, and he grunted in frustration, rocking his chair back onto its back legs to shove her away with a foot, launching himself out of it as the chair clattered back into place. He loped lazily across the room and swung the door open with a lean of his elbow, taking up much of the frame with his long form. The professor found himself staring down across the hall at a small, dark-haired girl he didn't recognize, and for a long, silent moment that was all he did- stare with a blank expression on his face (though of course, 'blank' for Kita Hototo bore more a resemblance toward a look of 'I will rip your nostrils out and feed them to you'). Finally, though, he spoke, his voice a deep, slow rumble, like a thoughtful bear examining a dancing fish. "...You're not one of mine." |
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| Miss Avarice | Jun 22 2009, 02:43 AM Post #4 |
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"--I WILL GET YOU FIRED NEXT TIME I MEET WITH THE PRINCIPAL OF THIS HIGH SCHOOL, YOU... YOU--" her cry cut off, she spun round and noticed, for one thing: that Kita Hototo was not actually paying particularly much attention to her rant. This wasn't good, because Nakamura Kaede _________. a) must be paid attention to at all times, or you go on her blacklist, which is never a good thing b) already put Kita on her blacklist, therefore making her even angrier c) an angry Kaede is never a good thing, generally speaking. She heard the light tap on the door, the fact that he had swung it open and already looked passed her -- this was making her more and more upset. First ignored, then shunned, and then her student had to come interrupt. Who knew? She probably had heard the whole thing, and then it would be all over the school and she would be held in contempt. If not for the thirteenth-or-so time: and of course, she never counted them. "...You're not one of mine." His voice was something akin to a particularly low rumble, like thunder or maybe a landslide looming overhead. Her eyes trained towards the girl standing in the doorway, immediately recognized, and noted half-smugly that he was exuding a most foul sort of aura. Maybe she had hit a nerve. (And Kaede enjoys hitting nerves, when they serve her to annoy Kita more. All the same...) "Of course she's not one of yours!" she found the half-composure to snap angrily, and rather audibly too (she had her mother's voice, a singer's voice that pierced the air. Quite handy when you were also throwing daggers with your eyes at the man standing next to you, while at the same time attempting to address your student.) "She's my student." Turned to the poor Yuuko (or was that really her name? Yuuki? Yuuri?) and added, a little bit nicer because most of her wrath had been expended on Kita anyways-- "Do you want something?" Edited by Miss Avarice, Jun 22 2009, 02:44 AM.
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| KuraiSakura | Jul 29 2009, 11:49 AM Post #5 |
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Procrastinator to the Extreme
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At first, Yuuko wasn't expecting another teacher to answer the door, which she realized was a stupid expectation. Then again, how to come up with a decent response to "... You're not one of mine" in a short amount of time was beyond her. At the same time, Yuuko had a difficult time identifying the tall man. Surely she heard of this teacher somewhere before, but connecting names with faces was never one of her strong points. Thankfully -- Yuuko was surprised she even felt this way -- Nakamura-sensei cleared up the minor confusion before the male teacher could elicit an answer. "Do you want something?" Two things ran through Yuuko's mind when she heard this. The first was the urge to ask the overused "who are you and have you done with" question, because even the slightest nice tone was apparently offsetting. She also had to suppress the urge respond with a "if I didn't want something, then why would I be here" question (with some nastier bits added at the end). The corner of her mouth twitched at both thoughts. Why is it always so tempting to purposely infuriate a teacher? Yuuko couldn't help but find it amusing how she could be intimidated by someone of a slightly shorter stature than her own (though it was a small difference and the teacher's heels often made up for it), but perhaps it was all due to the aura Nakamura-sensei seemed to exude. As for the other teacher... Yuuko really couldn't form much of an opinion on him apart from what she could draw from his appearance: huge and doesn't seem like the type to be teaching in a music school. In fact, he looked more like an instructor for thieves or spies in an RPG, but it wouldn't do to mention that outloud. "Ah, good afternoon, Nakamura-sensei and, um... Sensei..." Yuuko began with a slight bow, mentally slapping herself for still not remembering the male teacher's name. "My parents have asked for a written report on my progress in class..." Despite what she hoped was a "gentle" smile, it was clear that she would rather do something else than ask for something she deemed "pointless," and yet Yuuko silently praying no signs of mischief shone through because she would certainly, certainly never plot something against a teacher. Well... maybe she would, but what were the chances those plans would come to fruitation, right? And of course, she absolutely had to resist the urge to ask about the previous argument. |
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8:37 PM Nov 8
