<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class=ooc><tr><td>Timestamp 44th Tria, 81378 (4) Warnings Avalon is severely depressed, and is definitely going to swear a lot. And I doubt that he will be the only one who swears... Quality over quantity, please. Who: Avalon Lastion and a few others. Where: Avalon's dormitory - but how much longer will it be his? When: Night What: Avalon is severely depressed after a humiliating defeat at a Menlo match, and hasn't been himself for the past few days. However, he knows that he can't skip classes (and detentions) for much longer, and has to decide what to do...</td></tr></table> "Goddamn it..." With the end of dusk came the beginning of the night. The sun's brilliant golden rays were gone, and instead, a gentle moon shone. The moonlight was enough to soothe peoples' minds when they were depressed... but sometimes, even this was hardly enough. The stars had come, sparkling in their thousands, and the courtyard was oddly silent, save for the occasional breeze, and maybe even a figure or two. "Why..." But there was one who'd stopped caring about it. A crimson, bipedal pendragon lay flat on his back on his simple bed, gazing upwards at the ceiling. His gold eyes had lost their glimmer, his crimson and blood-red fur had lost its gleam, and even his clothes were dull. He wore a simple black tank top, with khaki cargo pants which were hardly baggy. His hair, too, had lost its shine, and instead it flopped lazily, with the bangs covering his eyes. Two pairs of ears rested on his head, and two tails draped lazily on the floor. Avalon's arms were in different positions: one was crossed on his chest, whilst the other was spread out, hanging lazily at the side of the bed. A sigh escaped his muzzle, and he looked back at what had happened only ten days before... "Damn you... damn you... you stupid kid..." He had suffered a humiliating defeat at his first professional Menlo match. The details weren't exactly clear to him, but he knew that he was crushed, scratched, bitten, and pummeled. The bite had, somehow, been able to destroy his entire arm in the virtual reality duel, and he managed to stagger away, only to collapse and proceed to get his ass whooped - big time. After the match, when someone had asked how he was feeling, he'd just given them the finger and walked off. He had suffered a major psychological injury. And since then, he hadn't been himself. Skipping classes - and even detentions - were only one offense: he had yelled at various people, driven away his female fans, picked fights, and withdrew when he was alone. But now, if he kept it up, he'd be in serious trouble. He had to do something. You procrastinator! The little voice in his head was yelling at him. You knew all along that you should've done something, and yet, you're just lying here, moaning about life, and complaining about your opponents! Get a fucking hold of yourself and DO SOMETHING! With a sigh, he managed to pull himself up, sitting on the bed and rubbing his head. He hated to admit it, but the annoying voice was right. Sitting around and being lazy wasn't going to do anything. He had to think of something. But what...? A slight yawn came from the crimson male's muzzle, and he stood up, walking towards the radio. He turned it on, and tuned it to a channel with classical music from Earth. Maybe the music would help... or would it attract the attention of a few?
*Knock, Knock* <span style='color:red'>Hello? Whats the music about?</span> he scanned the room, walking over to the moping 'dragon, and said, <span style='color:red'>What wrong with you?</span> he said, with genuine concern, <span style='color:red'>You ok?</span>
Miqi stared at the door to Lon’s dorm, his faded white claws tapping on the side of his leg. It didn’t make much noise, however, and was really only putting pulls in the loose dark blue boxers. As usual, the bipedal pendragon went without a shirt—he preferred to leave most of his fur open to the light of day (or, in this case, the marvelous artificial lighting) so it could highlight the natural blue shimmer his otherwise creamy coat had. With a small grunt, he reached behind himself and scratched the ridge of black fur running up his spine, wincing inwardly as several of his claws stretched and sent jabs of pain through his unusually large hand. He was debating whether or not to storm in and demand that the pendragon to turn off his music. Miq’s floppy ears were rather sharp, and he was the type that needed utter silence in which to conduct his slumber. Faint though the orchestral music was, it was still keeping him awake. Kytlekh drag them all to hell, he didn’t know what to do. The nice side of him wanted to just let it be; surely the music was soothing to the listener, and he had no right to barge on in. The other side, the stronger side, wanted to barge on in because his right to sleep wasn’t something he was giving up on. But, like stated, Ibontiel’s personality was the stronger in this case. Pulling his long ponytail over his shoulder, Miqi affixed an expression of righteous anger onto his thin, snow leopard-ish face, making sure his faded eyes were sufficiently chilling. He pulled open the door with a jerk of his hand, padding softly in on boat-sized feet. “Could you turn the damn music down, jackass? Some of us aren’t half-deaf, yah know," he snapped, rich tenor voice heavy with anger.
<span style='color:red'>the only ass here is you, get lost!</span> del said, slamming the door in his face, <span style='color:red'>what an idiot...</span>
Iode rubbed his eyes and appeared in front of the door. "Think you could turn it down? Some of us have Jemdrull matchs tommarrow...Hey wait didn't you lose to Cue a while ago? Oops...I have a feeling that was the wrong thing to say..." Iode was good at that, his try colored fur was a little frazzled rather neatly brushed like he usually had it that seemed to attract girls. He rubbed the back of his head and had a VERY fake smile on his face. He wasn't the brightest thing in the world. Cue happened to be one of his friends, though there was alot more to her then he knew. The reason why she was out of class once a month for most of a week was still not apparent to him. Iode spent most of his time playing sports, one day he hoped to be a Jemdrull player as his job. It was about the only thing he was good at besides messing up.
<span style='color:red'>A Menlo match? is that all? you need to wake up and smell the coffee, if you don't wanna lose, dont play a game, not everybody can win. i would know, beleve me...</span> he smiled a bit, I'll turn this into a menlo match if it kills me... <span style='color:red'>How bout a match? Arena rules, just so I can see how good you are.</span> Maybe if he plays, he'll win, but i've never seen him play before, so i guess i can't tell... yet.
The chaos around him made Avalon's head spin, but he did manage to turn the music down to a bearable level. Eventually, he looked about, and spoke. "Don't mention that game near me." He sighed and sat down. "You don't understand... this was an OFFICIAL match. I'd prepared for it, trained hard, and yet I got beaten to a fucking pulp." His tone of voice was raised, and he was trying to hold back the tears. They didn't understand. Normally, a loss wasn't much to him... but he had said it. This loss had caused him a great humiliation. This loss had caused all of his misfortunes to come right back to him. "...it reminded me of the shitty time I had before I came here..."
"It happens to the best of us, just think your lucky it was virtual. I broke my foot once playing Jemdrull...Some punk tripped and cracked my foot in two! I was out for weeks! You though can keep practicing and getting better maybe one day you'll beat their ass, then you can make fun of them!" Iode smiled. He was always trying to be the nice guy and always says the right thing. He knew he most likely screwed up again though. He was currently also only wearing boxers, they had Jemdrull balls on them. Most of his stuff had to do with Jemdrull, currently it was the only thing keeping him from getting into too much trouble. He was a great player, one of the schools best. That is what he consintrated on most.
Miq briefly considered opening the door again simply to beat the irritating black pendragon into a pulp, or possibly hack him into little parts for experimentation... But then he realized that AÂ’delos could be much more useful as a test subject... HeÂ’d had a little project on the backburners that would be perfect to get revenge with... The pale dawn-tinted pendragon disappeared down the hall, just as another jock-type came wandering up to the room.
<span style='color:red'>come on, one match, i've been looking for a mildly challenging opponent, but i won't go easy on you.</span> he looked at his watch, <span style='color:red'> well, i've got no time for moping, so i'll be off, later.</span> he walked over to the door, opened it halfway, and looked back, <span style='color:red'>if you ever pull yourself together, i'm in room seventy-eight,</span> Del walked into the hall and thought, jeezuz, what a baby, its a GAME
