Conducting The Storm [/Open - Limited]

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[/color][/b]" As she left her dorm in the early morning hours.

She had awhile before class started, but Tanya wanted to set everything up before the kids were even awake. She did have to drag a few of the props from the extra rooms into her wing. All for the sake of theater, she kept reminding herself, even as she lugged, tugged and pulled. It wasn't really necessary, but she enjoyed drama in every form and wouldn't give up the opportunity to use sets from plays she'd lovingly put her heart and soul into. Besides, the students would get a kick out of it.

She was sure.

After two hours of moving things around, Tanya was spent physically and clamored down to the cafeteria to grab a bite to eat before class. She didn't stick around to pester Greg like she normally would have, but silently slipped back up to her classroom, practically swallowing her food whole as she quickly shoved the desks to the side of the room, and made a clear path to the bleachers along the windows. Smiling all the while at the thunder and random bouts of rain.

"Perfect, prefect, perfect![/b]"

It was finally time for her class to start, and before her students began to amble in, she disappeared behind the props she'd spent so mush time moving and with a wide smile on her face watched student after student enter the class and stare in awe at the large, over sized set pieces. One was depicted a lavish bedroom, complete with a king sized bed and frame, an oversize chair, and fake fire place painted into the mural. The other was a bit simpler, showing off a lobby scene, with an elevator painted on the background, with doors that actually opened, and a desk popping out from the scene itself. Tanya waited for almost twenty minutes before she walked out from behind the set, her face in a calm line, as if this was perfectly normal.

Which, in a way, it was.

Sitting in the plush chair, she quickly crossed one leg over the other and sat in a refined position staring out at her students. She was dressed in black leggings and a dark gray skirt with droplets of blue gems every few inches. Her top was black, tight and made of wool, with a light blue scarf hanging loosely around her neck, a perfect comparison to the weather outside. After a few moments of quiet, she slowly stood up and opened her arms in a dramatic fashion, slowly letting her lips turn up into a smile.

"Who here has ever played clue?[/b]" Tanya didn't wait for a reply, but quickly stepped towards the desk and picked up a few papers. "Today! We'll be playing a little game. Seven of you will be given a card, with a name, and description, and you'll be our players. One of you, will be our deceased. Although this game is similar to Clue, it will not follow the story line or the board game. So, don't assume that you know the answer. The rest of you, not chosen, will be our audience, and you'll be able to participate in several ways. But, we'll get to that soon enough. First! Our players.[/b]"

With papers in hand she approached the bleachers and handed them out randomly. Each paper was folded over neatly, twice, and had a number on them. "If number one would come up and introduce their character, add whatever you wish to your character, don't be shy, then stand to the side and let the rest of you follow suit.[/b]" Tanya smiled and sat back in the over sized chair, waiting for the game to begin.

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Number One: Mr. or Miss. Crow ; Quiet, calm, and usually overlooked ; Occupation: Investment banker.

Number Two: Mr. or Miss. Deere ; Rambunctious and usually the life of the party ; Occupation: Stock Broker.

Number Three: Mr. or Miss. Ford ; Curious and nosey ; Occupation: Accountant.

Number Four: Mr. or Miss. Smith ; Proclaimed know it all ; Occupation: Policer Officer.

Number Five: Mr. or Miss. Davis ; Quiet, but highly intelligent, notices things others don't ; Occupation: Librarian.

Number Six: Mr. or Miss. Williams ; Wallflower, prefers to stay in the background ; Occupation: Out of home business.

Number Seven: Mr. or Miss. Robinson ; Widowed, cranky, doesn't enjoy mysteries ; Occupation: Retired.

Number Eight
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Haevyn had spent her morning listening to her iPod while watching the blankets of rain pour down outside. Usually she'd have spent her off hours with Ms. Guathie in her room, but today seemed more like a "lay in bed and do nothing" day. It was one of the things she loved about this school. Not having to get up and drive, or walk miles upon miles to a school, full of snot-nosed brats and jocks.

All she had to do was leave her dorm room and she was already there.

Upon reaching her favorite class, Vynny already knew that Tanya had something planned, and the excitement within her grew. Fantastic! She enjoyed her teacher's antics, and loved being able to help her set things up, or participate in any way. And as it stormed outside, Haevyn stood up from the bleachers, fixing her jeans and pink, fluff covered shirt and walked to the front of the class.

Number One: Mr. or Miss. Crow ; Quiet, calm, and usually overlooked ; Occupation: Investment banker.

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"Investment banking..." Vynny whispered to herself as she raised her brow, she knew nothing of investment banking, hopefully that wouldn't matter. Sighing she red the beginning of the description and then looked up at the class. She changed her position, so she was turned more to the side, and looked defiantly towards the windows.

"My name is Miss. Crow. And I'm an investment banker from the North. I grew up on a plantation as the middle child of seven, and was rather ignored most of my life. I don't live extravagantly, and prefer to stay home then to go out and mingle like you normal folk. I'm also 27 and enjoy gambling." She smiled as her teacher let out a soft chuckle and bowed to her audience before stepping to the side in order for someone else to get up and introduce themselves, all the while her thoughts were jumping to and fro on what could possibly be going on in Tanya's mind.
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[LUX CESARE GLIERO]

Thunder...

...was not something he was used to.

Every now and then there'd be a flash of lightning he would notice from the corner of the window, which would appear as alarming as a warning from the underworld that the end was near. In response to the bright electrical lights outside, he would immediately plant the palms of his hands on his ears, not willing to let go until he felt a sort of tremor, or until he saw a few other students jolt as a result of the loud rumbles and booms from the skies.

He just hated the sounds--it wasn't like he was afraid of them, anyway. He had a high enough IQ to fully understand what caused electrical storms, but even if a scientist knows the ins and outs of his world, he will never know why he takes to avoiding mother nature's version of heavy metal.

So after a moment or two of feeling the rumble from outside that shook the floors, ceilings and halls of the Academy, Lux decided that he could now remove his hands from his ears. He was a bit tired from skipping breakfast--of course he wasn't hungry then but he didn't have time to go and eat now. It was too late for that. Yawning, he stretched, and then went back to slouching on the lower seats of the bleachers.

He tried to picture just what kind of a person would spring to life with the description he was given. He had to make it convincing as well--his voice couldn't handle the generic American chit-chat.

Number Two: Mr. or Miss. Deere ; Rambunctious and usually the life of the party ; Occupation: Stock Broker.

An invisible beacon of a light bulb lit up in his mind. The hamster wheel in his brain was on a roll. Grinning, he leaped up from the seat, bounded over to the center of the room, nearly sliding off-balance because of the poor traction his red converse offered. Miraculously, although it looked like he would have spun out of control, he regained his balance and turned to face the audience with a serious face.

If there was one thing he could do with his accent, it was make it as Guido, Jersey Shore and Al Capone-ified as possible. And so, with his best Sicilian-Italian accent in action, he read his description.

"'Eyy, I'm-a Johnny Deere! In-TAH-national stock-a broka' who'll-a do youse guyz a fay-vor if yah get me some-a prime-time martini, here! How old am I? I'm-a twenty-two-year-old sen-SAY-tion, lemme tell ya! I love-a tha' parties, I love-a tha' money, I love-a da' cars! Bump me to the top an' I'll pay youse back in full--'cause that's what-a family does, eh? BUT! If you cross the line wit' me...oh, just ask-a anyone who knows me. You'll see how it-a works around here in my town--AAAH!"

All the while, Lux went about adding those oh-so-authentic Italian hand gestures and snarky facial expressions that'd go just perfectly with a power-hungry, mobster stockbroker.

But at the end, he was about to give the audience an imaginary tip of the hat when a flash-bang of thunder and lighting hit. The result was a positively freaked Lux, who was holding his hand to his chest as if his heart would bust out and cartwheel away from the storm.

A moment passed and he decided to re-do his ending with a fake tip of the hat. Upon finishing he went to stand next to Haevyn, shaking his head and on the verge of laughing at himself for being such a spaz. But he smiled through it anyway--for sure there were a few kids laughing at his spurt of creativity, along with its unexpected finish.

Out of good, genuine nature he leaned towards Haevyn and complimented her.

"'Eyy, great-a job!"

Does-a shee think Ai can really drop thees ack-sent?