Slow eruptions.
Feb. 7th, 2004 05:40 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsBecause Em demanded it, and I must obey.
It was a strange experience, feeling so pleased, and yet so bitter at the same time. Strange, but not new.
Shinobi eyed his laptop's screen from where it sat (appropriately enough) in his lap, the afternoon sun providing his room with all the lighting it needed via the unobscured window. The post on display was one of his own - his expression of gratitude to the school's staff*, that had just as quickly been buried under even more negativity and arguing, much to his annoyance. He'd meant every word he'd said, of course, and that was what was important - but being acknowledged would be kind of nice.
He hadn't been entirely ignored, though. Emma had seen it. In a way, that was enough - she was the only member of the faculty whose opinion really, truly mattered to him. The only one who was intelligent and capable enough for the tasks at hand. To teach. To lead.
Granted, the post had only been there for a short time - twenty-four hours or thereabouts - but that had been enough time for others, with more arguements and self-loathing, empty threats and meaningless babble, to garner attention.
The faculty wanted to know why their wards felt uncomfortable? Maybe it was the near total lack of positive reinforcement that was to blame. 'You make me feel safe, thank you' earned a bare-minimum of response, while rants and teenage hissyfits earned all sorts of attention from everyone and their uncle, most of it extremely arguementative and hostile. They were so damned ungrateful. Unworthy.
Didn't they realize none of it mattered? Nobody had been killed, and even those who had been hurt were fine now. So nobody told them the school'd been attacked before - big deal. He didn't advertise that he'd considered kidnapping one of the younger children for use in murder more than once, now, had he? Sometimes, secrets were necessary. Besides, they should know now that if anyone did attack the school, they'd be sent home in ziplock baggies. Marie-Ange had the grey matter in her ear to speak to that.
"Children," he growled under his breath, his fingers beginning to fly across the keyboard as he drafted a new post. Were it not for Emma and Sarah, Shinobi would be tempted to abandon the lot of them. No, not would be - was. These people were made up of two camps - the psychotic, and the useless.. but given how difficult the crazed could be to manipulate, perhaps 'useless' was the only camp after all.
Abruptly, his hands stilled, almond-shaped eyes widening imperceptibly as his own thoughts finally registered. Deleting his post in progress without bothering to read it, he slapped the laptop closed and got to his feet, grabbing his cigarettes and lighter off his nightstand as he rushed for the door.
Hopefully, Doctor Samson wouldn't object to his request to smoke while they spoke.
* - This post here.
It was a strange experience, feeling so pleased, and yet so bitter at the same time. Strange, but not new.
Shinobi eyed his laptop's screen from where it sat (appropriately enough) in his lap, the afternoon sun providing his room with all the lighting it needed via the unobscured window. The post on display was one of his own - his expression of gratitude to the school's staff*, that had just as quickly been buried under even more negativity and arguing, much to his annoyance. He'd meant every word he'd said, of course, and that was what was important - but being acknowledged would be kind of nice.
He hadn't been entirely ignored, though. Emma had seen it. In a way, that was enough - she was the only member of the faculty whose opinion really, truly mattered to him. The only one who was intelligent and capable enough for the tasks at hand. To teach. To lead.
Granted, the post had only been there for a short time - twenty-four hours or thereabouts - but that had been enough time for others, with more arguements and self-loathing, empty threats and meaningless babble, to garner attention.
The faculty wanted to know why their wards felt uncomfortable? Maybe it was the near total lack of positive reinforcement that was to blame. 'You make me feel safe, thank you' earned a bare-minimum of response, while rants and teenage hissyfits earned all sorts of attention from everyone and their uncle, most of it extremely arguementative and hostile. They were so damned ungrateful. Unworthy.
Didn't they realize none of it mattered? Nobody had been killed, and even those who had been hurt were fine now. So nobody told them the school'd been attacked before - big deal. He didn't advertise that he'd considered kidnapping one of the younger children for use in murder more than once, now, had he? Sometimes, secrets were necessary. Besides, they should know now that if anyone did attack the school, they'd be sent home in ziplock baggies. Marie-Ange had the grey matter in her ear to speak to that.
"Children," he growled under his breath, his fingers beginning to fly across the keyboard as he drafted a new post. Were it not for Emma and Sarah, Shinobi would be tempted to abandon the lot of them. No, not would be - was. These people were made up of two camps - the psychotic, and the useless.. but given how difficult the crazed could be to manipulate, perhaps 'useless' was the only camp after all.
Abruptly, his hands stilled, almond-shaped eyes widening imperceptibly as his own thoughts finally registered. Deleting his post in progress without bothering to read it, he slapped the laptop closed and got to his feet, grabbing his cigarettes and lighter off his nightstand as he rushed for the door.
Hopefully, Doctor Samson wouldn't object to his request to smoke while they spoke.
* - This post here.
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...
Date: 2004-02-08 04:02 pm (UTC)Out of cusority, you know how canon-Shinobi dealt with his dad, right?
Re: ...
Date: 2004-02-08 05:39 pm (UTC)...
Date: 2004-02-08 10:14 pm (UTC)Re: ...
Date: 2004-02-08 11:20 pm (UTC)