welcome
Welcome delinquents to PHS #552. A few reminders, no rough housing, no running in the hallways, no cheating, and no talking back to your teachers. Beyond that, enjoy yourselves. After all these are the years you’ll look back on, and remember, you mother fuckers peaked too early.
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credits
Public Highschool #552 was rebooted by Xereon and Aether. Content is copyrighted to PHS #552 unless otherwise stated. The skin is created by Wolf of Gangnam Style. The board and thread remodel is by Kagney and has been heavily edited. Banner Image Credit. Chatbox Credit
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NEW RP DISCORD SERVER. CONTACT "Shugo Yuy#5730" ON DISCORD FOR INFO. |
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COME IN COME ALL AND WATCH THE SPECTACULAR STUDENTS FROM PUBLIC HIGH SCHOOL 552 AS THEY PIT AGAINST EACH OTHER IN BAREKNUCKLE BEATDOWN! Watch as students go toe to toe on this little tournament with an unbelievable budget allocation! See them bite each other in arena made of LEGOS! Make each other bleed in an artificial JUNGLE!, even go as far as making them break bones under an artificial STORM! Really, HOW BIG IS THE BUDGET ON THIS SHIT! SO PLACE OUR BETS AND GO WATCH BAREKNUCKLE BEATDOWN NOW!
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A brand new group is on the making, The Apostles, a Pillar-like group led by none other than our brand new headmaster, Gregoire Girard. A student body that would lead students and enforce the law on this little school of ours. Little is still known about this student body, but who knows? It might just be what the school needs.
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A lunch box is seen last Friday, around 12:37:08pm with an encouraging note packed inside. This appalling display that utterly lacked manliness has left many students stunned and outrage, as some decided, after a long while, to speak out against it.
Full Story Here.
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Down With The Fallen [Ira/Siohban/Open]
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user is offline ●
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Never say anything that doesn't improve on silence.
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Reincarnated
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Post by Xaier McCaine on Feb 19, 2016 16:11:08 GMT -5
[For Ira Defaire and Siobhan Arden, but also Open] This was the first time Xaier had visited to remnants of the school, the building clearly had seen better days. He had not been present during the explosion that drastically changed the school grounds. It was eerie to set his eyes upon it in its current state. Maybe someday he would find some way to help rebuild it, but there were other obstacles to over come first. The first thing he had to focus on was healing and recovering. Austin Huntsman's final actions had taken a toll on his body. The upper left portion of his body was wrapped, hidden beneath the white button-up he wore. His head hidden within a deep hood of his jacket. Upon the bridge of his nose rested a fancy pair of sunglasses, which his emerald hues stared through. A simple pair of black slacks finished up his attire. He had exhausted more energy than he originally intended by traveling yo the school. It had been almost a week since he got out of the hospital, but he still found himself weaker than he wished. It would take time and on top of that he would have to make sure he didn't suffer further injury. The emerald eyed teen had managed to make it as far as the scorched and charred remains of what was once the auditorium, before he settled himself down upon what was left of the stage. Bowing his head slightly, Xaier would find his mind wandering into the past, a time that where things seemed much simpler. |
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user is offline ●
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Let's sleep through the end of this world.
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❝ Iconoclast ❞
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Lightning Gang
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Post by Ira Defaire on Feb 19, 2016 21:16:07 GMT -5
| Strolling around the debris of the school, devastated by the district, Ira frowns when she sees a lone figure in the rubble. She recognizes the color of the hair, and his features are generally covered by the sunglasses he wears. Those distinguished him from the rest, and she'd noticed him, for the very first time, at... his death.
He looks terrible.
To be entirely fair, the last time they encountered the other, she was trying to siphon blood off his face with a tissue. Him collapsing was enough to make anyone alarmed, but the indifference from the crowd was enough to determine that this guy isn't in league with any gangs. He's an Apostle, in and out.
"Xaier..." She says carefully, wrecking her terrible memory for his last name. She comes up with nothing.
Reminding herself that he is an apostle, and that giving any hints of betrayal will result in death on her part, her face hardened. Her poker face, albeit somewhat cold, is enough to conceal any emotions she might feel.
Strolling up to him confidently, and perhaps a little cockily, Ira sits beside him. However, she shifts herself to ensure a certain distance between them, a distance that was approximately 3 feet.
"What are you doing here?" She asks quietly, her eyes landing on the injuries on his body.
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user is offline ●
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Never say anything that doesn't improve on silence.
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Reincarnated
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Post by Xaier McCaine on Feb 19, 2016 21:39:26 GMT -5
Sharp ears had picked up soft footfalls nearby. But his attention had not strayed toward the sounds. Instead, Xaier remained staring toward the ground, leaning against the ruined stage. The young man's mind was waying him down. Heavy thoughts had clouded his head since Knuckles execution. And on top of it his near death experience had been rather creepy. He couldn't pinpoint it for sure, but even now he felt as if there was something or someone trying to claw its way out of him.
When he heard the feminine voice, his curiosity grew. Of course, that didn't mean the silver haired boy had let his guard down. "Contemplating if my choices made recently are the right ones." He would shift where he stood, allowing those hidden emerald orbs to fixate upon her familiar form. Ira. She had been standing nearby during the execution herself. Part of him wanted to ask her what she thought about the Apostles and the actions they took. But he wasn't so sure that was a good idea. "And what about you?"
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user is offline ●
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Having perfected our disguise, we search for someone we can't fool.
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No Group
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Post by Siobhan Arden on Feb 19, 2016 22:45:26 GMT -5
And so life moves on, taking those with the next rays of dawn. The rest are hidden amongst shadows, never to see the sunrise again.
Siobhan hadn't been the sentimental one. Death had been something she was comfortable with. Life before PHS #552 suddenly seemed as if a lucid dream, one where she- admittedly- was probably happier. Even within the walls of a cage she was protected from the violent winds of shifting alliances. There was always one objective in the life before. Point, Shoot, Kill. Three words she was unable to swallow, three words which had condemned her to a life of misery. She was too late now; the body count she managed to rack up didn't make up for the past. These deaths were on her hands. It was a burden she had to live with now.
For days since.. that incident, Siobhan wandered in a daze, not truly within her own mind. Hallucinations, delusions, something was altering her reality. She found herself sleeping in the shady motel room, swinging on a park swing, or now, back in the ruins of a school that had done more damage than repairs. Upon seeing the pair in the auditorium, she chalked it up to another one of her delusions. Over the past few days, Siobhan had conversed with many people, not all of them truly in this realm.
"If you talk to them, you'll regret it."
"I don't want to see you anymore."
"Ah, but my dear, that's where you're wrong. Without me, you wouldn't be alive anymore."
"... Just go away."
"Very well. But when you burn, make sure your screams are as sweet as the last time."
Siobhan stepped down each step deliberately, eyes focused on the pair. Even though her face was utterly void of any emotion, the haggard look clung underneath her eyes. Death ate through a person, and she was no exception. Walking up cautiously, the most she could muster to Ira was a half-hearted wave, despite knowing who she was in the presence in.
Maybe if she was lucky, they would kill her.
"Well, you've looked better."
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user is offline ●
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Let's sleep through the end of this world.
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“
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❝ Iconoclast ❞
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Lightning Gang
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Post by Ira Defaire on Feb 20, 2016 5:41:51 GMT -5
HEAR THE SOUND
OF FALLING rain.
Alcohol wasn't Ira's first choice of sedatives. It didn't take much to get her inebriated. However, she reasoned with herself, that beggars couldn't be choosers, and she fumbled about slowly on plans to get more alcohol if she finished her conversation with Xaier. It wasn't a good sign that her thoughts were diverted to alcohol, the moment she was confronted with a topic she didn't want to mention.
"You weren't there for half of it." She looked away. Despite her avoidance in eye contact, there was a lot of things she wanted to say, and those things were the very things that she knew not to say.
Instead, she opted to lacerate someone verbally, simply to draw his attention away from the ominous topic that would be inevitably broached upon. Telling him her actual thoughts would be absolutely suicidal, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to ensure that ordeal.
Her fingers burned against the icy winds, and her eyes smoldered beneath her eyelids. Cool determination was clutching her heart. She remained completely still, watching the familiar girl approach them slowly, and exhaled when she realized it was Siobhan. There was no existing threats, and attributing her fear to her paranoia seemed like a rational course of action.
"The two of you look terrible." She said conversationally.
ALL I ASK OF YOU IS TO BELIEVE PHARAOH LEAP. |
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user is offline ●
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Never say anything that doesn't improve on silence.
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Reincarnated
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Post by Xaier McCaine on Feb 20, 2016 7:56:54 GMT -5
Xaier wasn't exactly sure what Ira referred to when she said what she said. He could only assume she meant she saw what was done to Knuckles before the execution. The macabre experience wasn't exactly what he wanted to think about at this moment either. It was hard enough to forget as it was. "...I saw enough."
Nearly as soon as his words slipped out of his mouth, he heard another approach. He would settle his eyes upon the newcomer, another female. Though this one, he didn't know. Xaier would nod toward her, his left hand lifting to slide those sunglasses down ever so slightly. His attempt at a warm smile seemed a little forced. "I suppose we've all seen better days- And I don't think we've met before. What's your name?"
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user is offline ●
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Having perfected our disguise, we search for someone we can't fool.
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“
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No Group
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Post by Siobhan Arden on Feb 20, 2016 10:55:04 GMT -5
Siobhan started when her name was requested, feeling a hysterical humor bubble up in her chest. War was unforgiving, but even humanly pleasantries managed to survive. It was almost disgusting how courtesy could thrive where morals died. What's my name? For these days afterward, Siobhan had been many things, people, and they all knew who she was, whether or not she was consciously aware. For a long moment her eyes rested on he who had made such a ludicrous request of her, studying his face. Now without a glass dome and impending panic, Siobhan saw him simply, and returned the force smile in kind, an icy response discarded to him.
"Siobhan."
A heavy shock lit the hairs on her skin, burning with the brand that she had no last name. A title now stripped from her, a lost relic that would soon be trampled in the shifting sands of the underworld, she truly was from nowhere, and destined to be nothing.
"I recognize you from before. How are your wounds? You took quite the lethal blow from that execution."
The forced smile melted into a chiseled menace, her eyes chilled and soul burning. Pacifists in the midst of chaos were, in her eyes, the worst of those on polar sides. He who chose to remain still, sickened by the display, and yet never raise a hand, was truly a coward.
"Looks like death was just passing out rain checks."
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user is offline ●
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Never say anything that doesn't improve on silence.
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“
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Reincarnated
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Post by Xaier McCaine on Feb 20, 2016 12:46:04 GMT -5
"I guess so.. But what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?" Xaier would shrug it off. To be honest, the physical wounds he suffered were more bareable than the vivid dreams he had at the hospital. Xaier would close his eyes for a moment, his right hand subconciously lifting toward the covered wound on his chest. "Besides.. I have things I need to do before I die."
Coward! Coward! COWARD!
Xaier would reopen his eyes, shifting then back toward Ira as he repositioned his sunglasses. The corner of his mouth would lift slightly and he would hold a hand out toward her. "Can I get a little of that? Eheheh.." his other hand would lift to scratch slightly at the back of his head. Maybe this was his attempt to quell the voice of Austin, which seemed to echo throughout his head every time he thought about the execution.
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user is offline ●
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Having perfected our disguise, we search for someone we can't fool.
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“
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No Group
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Post by Siobhan Arden on Feb 27, 2016 14:21:01 GMT -5
Siobhan stared intensely at Xaier for a long amount of time, perturbed by the sudden rush of familiarity which had grabbed her attention. Discarding her original plan to leave if only to give her mind some relief from the never ending waves of grief, she shifted her gaze over to Ira, and then the rubble around them. Her analytic mind was already ticking, wondering how to probe this situation. A sealed metal box, with only a wooden stick to pry it open. Grinding her lower lip between her teeth, the girl tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear before deciding to go in from the corner.
"You'd think the Apostles would be so exulted there couldn't be a need for alcohol."
A bitter grin wormed itself onto Siobhan's face, her chilly demeanor appearing once more. She no longer knew if it was reassuring or worrying that she was regressing into a callous state she had finally discarded. Siobhan didn't care too much either.
"Looks like within the district, everyone's suffering. Reform's falling through, terrorists are rampaging, people are dying- starving too from the looks of it. We're only missing the fires of hell by now. But hey, that'd keep some of us warm at night."
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user is offline ●
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Let's sleep through the end of this world.
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“
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❝ Iconoclast ❞
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Lightning Gang
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Post by Ira Defaire on Feb 29, 2016 7:09:34 GMT -5
| In more than a decade worth of life, Ira came to learn that it was best to avoid anyone, especially two that seemed fairly intoxicated with the other. Company was a word tucked far away in the contours of her vocabulary to be forgotten after a lifetime spent without its syllables falling on her child-like ears.
In response to Xaier's words, she tossed her bottle at his face carelessly, unsure if it was expired milk, or bitter alcohol that she'd just tasted in the tip of her magenta tongue.
For all her brazen words as a presence among Siobhan and Xaier, talking to both made her somewhat nervous, and wary. They seemed more intimate with the other, and Ira didn't want to be in the middle of that. Their words and looks made her skin crawl and she ducked her head awkwardly to void any eye contact that might be coming her way.
"I have to go now." She said calmly, pushing herself off the debris-dusted floor, wincing as she felt the harshness of the miniscule pebbles and concrete on her skin.
"Give me a call if some chicken man attacks you randomly in your sleep and you can't find your underwear." She spoke dryly and tread her way past the pillars, the rubble, the years of education, and finally, the people that made her want to duck her head and crawl underneath her blanket fort.
Finally, she left without looking back, and with the knowledge and small satisfaction that she might have fucked up someone's day if they drank the expired milk she handed them.
[ exits thread ]
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