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[Day 1] Dorm Life
Topic Started: Sun Nov 15, 2009 8:45 pm (1,064 Views)
Quatre R. Winner
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Call me "Master"
Quatre was the king of scampering.

It came from being small most of his life. He was good at ducking and weaving and side-stepping his way through the hallways from years of practice doing the very same thing amongst a wild pack of of very tall, leggy sisters. The tops of his feet were thick from being stomped "accidentally" by various styles of pumps and his skull was sturdy from years of being thwacked in the side of the head with designer purses. He was resilient in a crowd, so when he found himself in the middle of a herd of college freshmen moving suitcases, laundry bags, mattresses, LCD screens and mini-fridges up and down the oldest stairwells on the planet he had no trouble dodging oncoming beanbags or boxes of snack food.

He hugged his messenger bag tightly against his chest to streamline his body and made a dash down the steps, around the corner and to the common area which was already crowded with young people playing pool at the three pool tables, or crowded around the communal television to watch the live footage from the football game between Spain and Italy.

He dropped his bag from his chest, smoothed it against his side and then ran his hand through his hair. Magically every blond lock fell into place as any respectable anime character's would.

He had finished moving in all of his belongings on the third floor. His room number was 202. He had chanted it over and over again to make sure he could remember. He pat his hip to make sure the key was in the pocket of his black uniform slacks before sidling up against the wall to watch the other students participate in their college-ish activities. He figured it would be safe to play fly-on-the-wall for a bit to see what these people were like. The dorm was set up much like any other dorm on a military compound would be, but the atmosphere was more electric. And louder. And disorganized. And dirty.

He kind of liked it.
.::Quatre's Word of the Day::.
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Heero Yuy
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Doesn't play well with others
Heero watched the throngs of jabbering college students as he trudged down the hall, sizing them up as potential threats. This place was crowded, loud, and completely unsanitary, and he hated it immediately. If it weren't for ESUN's meddling he wouldn't have been ordered here in the first place.

Realistically, all of the Gundam pilots were threats to interstellar safety. If any of them should turn rogue and pull a Wufei, the world would be in dire straits. Of course they would send he and the others to this sub-par excuse for a university, if for no other reason than to convince the general public on the Earth Sphere and in the colonies that the Gundam pilots were being monitored. Idiots...

Pushing past several other students and shoving his way to the front of the check-in line, Heero slapped his Preventers ID down on the RA's sign-in desk, hastily scribbled down his name in kanji, and stared at the flustered woman pointedly until she issued him a set of keys. He grunted an acknowledgement, shoved the keys into his pocket, and stormed down the corridor to his left. He'd spent an hour on the bus during the trip here memorizing blueprints of the campus, so he knew precisely where to find room 204. Heero fumbled with the keys while balancing his pack and pushed the door open with his hip. Inside he found a rickety bunkbed, a desk, and a few other miscellaneous pieces of furniture. The place was drab and plain, and it reminded him of the OZ bases he'd infiltrated during the war.

Zero's pilot took a moment to straighten his tie irritably before dumping his pack onto the top bunk--it was the most strategically advantageous place in the room for sleep--and heading back down to the entrance hall. The other would be here eventually, and he wanted to have a chance to speak to them before classes started tomorrow. It wasn't that he considered them friends or anything; that was absurd. He simply found it to be more beneficial to memorize each of their schedules and room assignments in case of an enemy attack on the university.

Hey, that sort of shit makes forums more interesting.
The Plan
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Duo Maxwell
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Raped by school.
Duo pulled the headphones off and hung them around his neck, giving the lady at the reception desk a toothy grin and handing over his ID once he reached the front of the line. He was tired from the trip to get to campus, but with his motorcycle safely parked in the garage and his duffel bag sitting on the floor at his feet, Duo ready for nothing less than a drink and a game of pool. That table over there looked quite promising.

He was startled from his musings as the lady "harrumphed" at him and handed back his ID, slapping a pen down in front of him so he'd sign his damn name. At least, that's how he translated her angry red fingernails. His brows rose, glancing from her fingernails to her fakely friendly face, and picked up the pen, scribbling down his adopted name in loopy strokes. He took his keys and winked at her in farewell, just to piss her off, and grabbed his duffel off the floor.

His headphones immediately went back onto his ears, so that the melodic sounds of heavy metal drowned out the pleasant sounds of college life. He glanced down at the keys in his hand as he reached the stairs. 204? ...Well where the hell was that? Duo looked up at the signs on the door and scowled. He really would have to climb these damn steps every day. He sighed and shouldered his duffel, tromping his way up the single flight of stairs. The pilot barely missed getting trampled by a group of football player-like boys as they headed back downstairs. Apparently they'd already found their rooms. He sidled along the wall as they passed, brows lifted in interest. It took him barely a minute to locate his room near the end of the hallway. Hm. Near the showers. That had pros and cons. He knew from experience that community showers were both loud and messy. Things got stolen pretty often. So either he had the fortune of being able to run back to his room without clothes, or he had the misfortune of listening to other people yell in the showers all day. Bleh.

After plunking his duffel bag down by his feet and struggling to get the old lock open, he kicked the door open and tossed his bag inside. Glancing around, he noticed the top bunk already had someone's belongings on it. Rolling his eyes, he nudged his bag over out of the way and took his headphones off, pausing the cd player and giving it a gentle toss onto the bottom bunk. He only hoped the guy on top didn't jerk around in his sleep a lot. Because if he had to sleep with that bed creaking all damn night.. He shook his head, eyeing the bed before turning and going back downstairs to mingle. He wanted a nap.. but he doubted he'd get any sleep with all the people arriving.
Duo Maxwell has mad ninja skills. Believe it.Posted Image
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Quatre R. Winner
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Call me "Master"
Apparently the Italians won. Quatre reflexively ducked his head at the crescendo of happy fans of the Italian team cheering in unison filled the common room. Boys and girls alike began jumping around, screaming and pointing at the "losers" who fumed quietly from their spots on the couch. Quatre smirked at the sight. The last time he had seen someone cheer and flail so boisterously in victory was when Duo won that game of chess against Wu Fei...

Hmn... speaking of Duo and Wu Fei, he wondered if they had arrived yet. Were they even staying at the dorms? He was sure that all freshmen were required to stay on campus, and doubly certain that the ESUN would keep them close together for supervision.

Maybe he should go look for them?

He nodded to himself, turned on his heels and strode briskly out of the common lounge area to the entrance hall. Just then his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, looked at the text message and was so preoccupied with texting Rashid back about how he was "perfectly fine" that he didn't notice he was on a head on collision course with someone passing through.
THUMP

He nearly dropped his phone, scrambled to snatch it out of the air before it fell, caught it and fought back the inevitable sweatdrop that had been forming on his face.

"Sorry! I'm sorry, I should have been watching where I was- Heero?"
.::Quatre's Word of the Day::.
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Heero Yuy
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Doesn't play well with others
Heero had been walking down the hall, minding his own business, when some clumsy idiot ran directly into him. He hit the wall with an audible 'oomf!' and glared around hastily. And found the Gundam's former strategist fumbling around on the floor with an embarrassingly pink cellular device. Heero grumbled under his breath and straightened his uniform in what was fast becoming a compulsive habit.

"Sorry! I'm sorry, I should have been watching where I was- Heero?"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Heero helped Quatre to his feet and quickly glanced around the room for any if the other pilots. "Do you have a copy of your schedule? I'd like to see it," he said with forced pleasantness. He was fairly certain that he could just intimidate the blonde into cooperating, but he had promised Relena that he would attempt to be civil with his fellow students during the duration of his residency at ICUP... "What classes are you taking?"

The other students milling around after the game were slowly filtering out of the lounge and towards their dormitories. Heero assumed that would make contacting the other pilots easier. He would need their schedules, as well. Some small part of him was simply hoping that at least one of them would be taking the same courseload. Not that he needed company in his classes. He just considered it much more efficient to study with someone at least moderately qualified to speak to him, and the soccer-jersey wearing rejects now arguing near the pool tables certainly did not meet that exacting standard.
The Plan
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Duo Maxwell
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Raped by school.
Duo stifled a yawn behind one hand as he meandered back downstairs, his free hand shoved in his pocket and fiddling with his keyring, now containing a second key to his dorm room in addition to the single key for his bike. His fingers itched to pull out that key and make a break from this ridiculous University shit the government had pulled on him. He'd been doing perfectly fine on his own, but no, they didn't trust the guys who'd saved their damn planet from destruction- more than once. Just throw em on some shit for brains campus and pretend they're normal kids. Right. That'd work about as well as his life thus far pretending to be a fucking priest.

He shook his head and forced himself to pull his hand out of his pocket, sans keys. He didn't exactly want to be running from the law his WHOLE life. Sixteen years was quite enough of that for him, thanks. Combing back his bangs, he took a breath and paused in the common room, frowning as he noticed that the game everyone had been interested in when he'd arrived was now over. He'd have a harder time finding people to mingle with when there wasn't common ground like a sports game to discuss. Hell if he was gonna make conversation about the weather.

It was dreary by the way.

Still, there seemed to be a serious game of pool underway at the far table, one looked like a bunch of newbies, and the last was unoccupied. Hm. His brows rose with interest and he wandered over to the empty table, not noticing the two familiar boys he passed by to get to the pool table. It occurred to him as he surveyed the beaten up table that there must have been a reason no one was using this one. Hopefully no one had had drunken sex on it or something. Not that that idea much bothered him. Actually it sounded sort of intriguing. He shrugged and grabbed a cue from the rack, balancing it on the table as he took a minute to set up his own little game. He wasn't much in the mood to butt in on somebody else's game, though he wouldn't mind if anyone decided to step in on his. He was just passing time until things quieted down after all.
Duo Maxwell has mad ninja skills. Believe it.Posted Image
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Trowa Barton
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"Trowa! I've thought of an awesome act for the second half of the show! Oooh, whatcha doing?"

"Reading my mail. Just got a letter from ESUN."

"They're not drafting you for another war, are they?"

"I doubt it. Probably just a request to join the Preventers or something. You were saying something about the show?"

"Oh, yeah! I thought of a great entrance. You'll come into the ring riding on Kenda's back, dressed like a clown and ten sticks of dynamite under the howdah. Then I'll swing overhead on the trapeze, aiming with my feet toward a huge bulls-eye with a button in the center. I'll kick the button, then you'll blow up into the air and land on the flybar on its return. What do you think?"

"Are you trying to kill me, Catherine?"

"No!  It'll be awesome!  You'll see.  We need something really big to lure in the rubes. This economy's killing the circus. What if you were shot out of a cannon and landed on a trapeze that was actually a stick of dynamite?"

"How about something with a little less dynamite?"

"Okay, I'll enter the ring standing on the back of a horse, then you swing overhead on the trapeze and do a triple somersault, vault onto the teeterboard into the cannon, then get shot out of the cannon and land on the horse with me. What do you think about that?"

"I'd love to do that one, Cathy—really, I would—but unfortunately ESUN wants me to go to school."

"You're kidding."

"No, really.  Look."


That was the scene just weeks ago. Trowa hadn't given the letter more than a cursory skimming, but it all sounded great to him. As long as he got out of Cathy's Ring of Terror, it didn't really matter why ESUN wanted to send him to school. A little more thought and it might occur to him that the whole thing was an insult, as if he were some kind of ticking bomb needing neutralization by brainwashing before he pulled a Columbine, but if he got to go to a keg party now and then, he'd be happy. He wasn't paying for any of this as far as he knew, and it got him out of cleaning animal cages for the next four years. He'd miss the animals and Cathy's coffee, and maybe even her soup if he got homesick enough, but he really needed a break from circus life at the moment.

Thus he was here wandering through a hallway in a dorm somewhere in London, searching for room something or other on the third floor. Wouldn't room 200 - 299 be on the second floor? Never mind, this was England, where they did things differently. Trowa decided he was probably English, since his gundam had landed in England during the original Operation Meteor, so he immediately affected a pretentious British accent somewhat reminiscent of early Dick Van Dyke. Ah, some lads in the hallway up ahead. They looked familiar, so this would be good practice in infiltration.

"I say, old chaps, could you kindly direct me to the room on this programme or sh-shedule...pip, pip? I fear I'm late for tea."

For Love and Justice, the pretty sailor-suited soldier Sailor Moon! In the name of the moon I will punish you! Posted Image
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Quatre R. Winner
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Call me "Master"
When he found himself standing in the upright position once more Quatre blushed furiously, pocketed his aforementioned pink cell phone and eyed Heero curiously as he interrogated him about his class schedule.

"Do you have a copy of your schedule? I'd like to see it,"

"Well, I do. It is around here somewhere..." he began digging around in his super awesome (and totally not a girl's purse) messenger bag, searching for his schedule. He had made sure to slide it in a clear plastic paper protector upon receiving it to keep it crisp and new for when he got bored sometime in the near future. He would be sure to scrapbook it alongside one of Heero's bloody bandages and a swab used to collect Trowa's DNA from the mouthpiece of that flute he had played during their soul bonding duet.


"What classes are you taking?"


Quatre finally retrieved the schedule from his bag and handed it sheepishly over to Heero. He was slightly embarrassed at his workload. French, English, German, Music History, The Development of Symphonic Music, Piano Literature and Performance Practice, Twentieth Century Musicals, and the First Viennese School interactive classes. Definitely not a challenging major by any stretch of the imagination. A practically useless major indeed. But he was Quatre Raberba Winner, what did he need with a free formal education anyway?

"I'm focusing my major in music studies," he explained meekly, reflexively chewing his lower lip. What else could he say? "What about you?"


"I say, old chaps, could you kindly direct me to the room on this programme or sh-shedule...pip, pip? I fear I'm late for tea."


Blink. Someone was doing a horrible imitation of an Olde English accent behind them. He wasn't surprised to see Trowa.

"Hey!" He felt himself brightening immediately. Trowa had this cracky way of making any situation brighter. Maybe it was the crack. "Long time no see, Trowa." He moved forward as if to hug him, but stopped himself. Were they ever really that friendly for hugs? Quatre hugged everyone back home. His sisters, all of the Maguanacs, all of the staff who worked in his family's mansion... but maybe it was inappropriate for him to just go glomping people. Especially other pilots. Best make it formal?

His limbs hung in mid-air for a moment before snapping back to his sides. He then jut out an arm stiffly to shake Trowa's hand.
Edited by Quatre R. Winner, Mon Nov 16, 2009 9:02 pm.
.::Quatre's Word of the Day::.
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Zhang Wu Fei
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Gang Woo Pee. Totally Korean.
"Hrm."   More of a 'thank-you' the ICUP receptionist with the abundantly applied burgundy lipstick would not get from Wu Fei. It had taken her long enough to process his application to make the band of his duffel bag begin to chafe on his shoulder. Stuffing the dormitory key in his pocket and focusing his stiff glare on page thirty-one of the campus informational booklet, he shuffled through the throng of his new fellow college inmates.


That Sally-woman had sure spoken out of turn when she'd asked Wu Fei to join Preventers. That, and he had not been thinking straight; he should have known ESUN would never allow people with a history of terrorism to defend the peace without subjecting them to some sort of program first. Funny, the things one fails to think about in moments of unguarded optimism.

All right, he had jumped at the opportunity of going back to school. Wu Fei had just not expected to meet this sort of… exuberance. These people, gathered in the auditorium, were supposed to be Preventers neophytes, but they acted more like… like people.   Frivolous idiots that didn't look like they could tell their arses from their elbows – a far cry from even his classmates when he was ten years old. At least back home kids were taught to keep the volume of their small talk down; repeat transgressions were punished with a sound whipping.


Old Master Pinhuà's whip on his mind, Wu Fei clenched his jaw and thought he'd head straight for the hall leading to his dormitory room – until he nearly bumped into some clown holding a reunion in the middle of his designated course. He lowered his booklet and scraped his throat.

"Excuse m—eh.   Barton?"

Before the thought of  Barton-attending-college  fully registered, Wu Fei recognised the other obstruction as Winner.

"Ah. Don't tell me. Sally Po asked you to join Preventers, too?"



Edited by Zhang Wu Fei, Mon Nov 16, 2009 10:24 pm.
I am some Korean meshuggenah.
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Heero Yuy
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Doesn't play well with others
Heero watched his former team leader fumble around in his admittedly frivolous satchel for his schedule, and then accepted the paper + sheet protector with a skeptical frown. He skimmed the paper and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. How many classes did one person need to take?!

"I'm focusing my major in music studies," Winner mumbled. Yeah. No shit, Sherlock. "What about you?" Heero ran through his courses in his head briefly. Astrophysics, Geomorphology, Terrestrial Stratigraphy, Planetary Geology, and Interstellar Law. He was about to open his mouth and answer when someone interrupted him.

"I say, old chaps, could you kindly direct me to the room on this programme or sh-shedule...pip, pip? I fear I'm late for tea." Ridiculous accent or not, Heero would recognize that voice anywhere in the galaxy.

It was Harry Potter Barton.

He stood back silently while Winner attempted a blatantly awkward greeting, and was busy scanning the area for a certain braided menace, and instead a loud, conspicuous, non-Maxwell noise caught his attention. "Excuse m—eh. Barton?" Heero resisted the urge to snicker. Well, this thread was turning into one big gay reunion. Oh, well. He needed to compare class schedules, after all. "Ah. Don't tell me. Sally Po asked you to join Preventers, too?"

Hn. Any mention of the Preventers and indirectly his own affiliation with that blasted organization was probably his cue to leave. Alas, he had promised to attempt some sort of social formalities while at ICUP, so he didn't give into the nagging itch in the back of his head that told him to go hide out in his fortress dormroom. Heero scowled down at Winner's schedule one last time before thrusting it back into the little twit's bag, nodding in acknowledgement to Barton, and extending a hand towards Chang. "Would you two mind if I examined your course schedules--er, programmes?"

Yeah, this was going to be a long day.
The Plan
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