There’s no other person that he would rather share breadsticks with. As hospitable he is, sharing food is a difficult task. Samuel takes pride in his dresser drawers of color coded candy bars, the rack of pies in the closet, and the breadsticks underneath his pillow. Luckily enough, his roommate shares his sugary habit. They both squirrel away food like war could break out any minute. With that much in common, becoming quick friends was natural. They’re rather open with each other, as long as there’s an open bag of chips between them.
Enemies since birth, they want nothing to do with each other. Sometimes they end up in the same classes, so communication is kept to a strict minimum. Samuel usually seizes opportunity when he can; he’ll sit behind Aristide to pelt him with spit-balls throughout entire lectures. It never ceases to make Samuel smile. Nothing irked Gaston’s son more than being coated in beastie drool!
SEND ME ‘¶ + A SUBJECT’ AND I’LL POST A HEADCANON FOR MY CHARACTER ABOUT THAT TOPIC | Status: CLOSED
Dancing? Most people aren’t capable of telling when Samuel is trying to dance or if he’s suffering from muscle spasms. He shakes his arms over his head, stomps his feet, and jumps to the music best he can. If he’s supposed to attempt ballroom dancing, then his partner best bubble-wrap their feet. He’s like a soldier marching, high knees and all. If he can avoid it though, he prefers standing by the refreshments.
The problem when it came to boxing was that, as long as she had those damned gloves on, she could not speak. She needed those hands of hers to either write or sign what she needed to say (God knew that she was never going to open her mouth and use her voice). That was why she was mostly found eating Camille’s pastries or commenting the few members’ stances or performances.
Thus, true to herself, she watched two of the members have their little match. She recognized one of them, a 3rd year who always was like arrogance-incarnate, Aris. He was good, but God forbid that she would tell him this objective compliment. Even if he won that sparring match and almost knocked out his opponent – and teammate – she would not. Instead, she went up to him after she wrote down (she was almost certain that he did not sign language unlike Camille):
✍You know, we are all teammates here. You didn’t have to obliterate him even if one of his jabs land on your face. It’s the risk you signed up for by joining this club.
She poked him with the tip of her notebook before she showed him what she had to say. For that, she had to push a couple of girls from his ‘fandom’ of sorts (or girls he brainwashed, or girls with too much time on their hands, or girls…).
“You wouldn’t know the benefits of being the little spoon,” he says, crossing his arms. “For your information, it’s like heaven. Everyone likes being the little spoon. It’s warm, safe, her boobies squish against your back, and there’s no hair in your face! Maybe I'm just used to it? I was a really small kid growing up, but today I'm tall enough to kick your ass. Now…for the last time…Aristide Legume, I’m not sharing my tots! Leave my lunch alone – I haven’t eaten anything today and I’m starving.”
it wouldn’t be a good idea to throw a rock at the window since it would probably wake everyone up from the sound of the crash. not because she was particularly worried about breaking school property. she’s done worse.
bending down, she took off her flats from her left foot and threw it at aristide’s window. it was times like this when she was glad for her youth in aiming and training in volleyball. with two quick steps, she caught the shoe in her hands again. the only sound heard was the repeated thumping against his window and her hissing, “aris! hurry and come out, dumbass!”
she usually could call him with her cellphone but luck would have run out today. she left it up in the dorms and couldn’t be risk going up to his dorm after what happened last time either. so now had to resort to prehistoric tactics back when phones were not invented.
It couldn’t be later than 8 am on a Saturday. Star really want to strangle herself one of the days she could’ve slept in she had to wake up early. But oh well, she couldn’t go back to sleep and there’s no use in wallowing in self pity now. Nope, now she had to figure out with her day. Anything was possible today since there was no class today.
She ran ideas through her head as she stared at the ceiling. Nothing she thought of appealed to her, everything in the academy grounds was something she could do everyday. She wanted to do sometimes special this particular Saturday. Then it hit the young witch, go to town! Star could really use the time getting out of the school.
But going by herself wouldn’t be fun. So it was back to her mind to decide who to drag around with her. Again it didn’t take to think of the perfect person to bring. Reaching for her phone she scrolled through her phone for a particular person. She reached the person in her contacts the it hit her again, ‘why text him? I can just drag him out of his room?’
She took a good thirty minutes getting ready and the next fifteen to get to her dear dear friends dorm. So by the time she reached the door it was a little past nine. Star knocked on the door and yelled, “Yo Ugly! Get your ass out of bed! The sun is shining and we have so much to do!”
Please welcome [ ARISTIDE LEGUME ], also known as [ ARIS ] a child of [ GASTON ]. Attending Fabeln academy, they are a [ THIRD YEAR ] residing in [ #305 ] at [ SILVERMIST ] hall. They are [ A MEMBER OF THE TRACK TEAM, DRAMA CLUB AND BOXING. ].
Give them a magical welcome! Let’s see how they react to attending the school.
“But father— “ his voice came out in that of a groan, chin lifting high in the air as his eyes narrowed at the taller man he had been trying to bargain with, “Why exactly can’t I go? Simply because you don’t like it? That’s hardly a reason, pathetic, really.” Aristide had grown tired of the fighting, tired of being polite and trying to reason, he simply didn’t have it in his anymore.“If I were you I would watch your tone, boy, I brought you into this world!”
his father replied with a quirked brow, chest poked out in an attempt to size his own son up, “It isn’t what’s best for you, you’re to stay in the school I went to when I was your age, it will do you some good, help you shape up! You’ve been slacking lately; have you been eating your eggs? You know, when I was your age I ate four dozen a—“ with the dismissive wave of a hand, his son finished for him.“Four dozen eggs a morning, I know. You’ve told this story a million times, father, and really, I’m tired of hearing it.”It’s not that he expected to get what he wanted in the attitude he had been giving his father, in reality, Aris knew he was out of line and he knew even more that it wasn’t best to anger his father—it only ended in yelling and an obnoxiously long story about how once upon a time, the entire town respected him, loved him, looked up to him; he shouldn’t have to take an attitude from an angst-ridden teenager!
“Look,” Aris begun, inhaling deeply and pinching the bridge of his nose, “Just hear me out, father!”With the tilt of a head and a thick, bushy brow quirking, he simply nodded. “Hurry this up, I haven’t got all day and you’re beginning to bore me.”“Don’t you know who goes to this school, father?” he asked, voice falling quiet as he leaned in and caught his father’s attention,
“Why, it’s that Samuel boy. You know, the son of that beast?” Aris knew how to persuade his father, how to manipulate him into getting the things he would want… he had learned from the best, after all.“They have parent days, and if I were to…go to this school, you just might run into Belle, and even better, I could do so much better than him father, I could outshine him in anything, you’ve said it yourself. I could crush him, if you would just allow me this one thing, I would-“ it was his father’s turn to hold a finger up dismissively, pinching his cleft chin and letting his eyes wander up as he grew lost in thought.
“I will allow you to go, but you must promise me one thing.” He finally replied, a wicked smirk creeping upon his aging features, “You show those students who you are, you show them what a Legume can truly do, and-“ he paused, smirk falling to a grin, “You show him who truly deserves to be king.”
COURSES:
FIRST PERIOD: Theater and Drama
SECOND PERIOD: Weight Training
[ STUDY HALL ]
THIRD PERIOD: Biology
FOURTH PERIOD: Advanced Composition
[ LUNCH ]
FIFTH PERIOD: Modern World History
SIXTH PERIOD: Algebra
BACKGROUND: “Never forget that once upon a time, in an unguarded moment, you recognized yourself as a friend.”
I. In a perfect life, the people in the town would line up down the streets…Hope glistening in their eyes, feet tapping in anticipation at the thought of meeting the first son of Sir Gaston Legume. In a perfect life, the mother and father would greet the towns people gleefully, they would wave and graciously accept the many gifts left at their feet in honor of the newest edition to the Legume family; but this life was far from perfect, you got what you were given and you had no choice but to accept it and move on. The birth of Aristide Legume was nothing spectacular in a town dedicated to their King and his wife; let alone the first born of the man who had once tried to kill the king himself in a desperate attempt at winning the beauty. People didn’t line up and down the streets awaiting to see the boy with gifts in their hands, they simply turned their noses up and went on with their life, awaiting the birth of the little prince to be.
II. “Don’t worry about that little beast,” his father would say, a ridiculous grin on his face as he swept his son into his arms, “With a curse like that, a strapping boy like you could outshine him in anything! Just follow as I say, watch how your old man does it and the towns people will be all over you the way they once were me!” This was drilled into his head consistently from a young age, the years he’d spent learning how to function, soaking up information like a sponge, it was drilled into his head that he would be the best, that he had to be the best. So this was how he grew up, constantly watching the people of the town swoon and sway over every little move the prince boy would make- Aris would do his best to do it first, to do it better.
III. As Aris grew, his father did his best to mold him into everything he could wish for in a son. He was taught to hunt, taught to woo, taught to impress, he was a natural charm like his father- yet he still went unnoticed. In the town, at school, wherever he went, all he would hear about was the King and his wife and their perfect boy, everything he should have had, everything he deserved, he had to watch another person get it all handed to him from the sidelines. On top of the beginning struggle with his self-worth, life in his home was far from what a child should have. There was no familial love, there was no affection; his father could barely stand his mother and the only time he was praised was when he did something just as his father had told him to. He experienced all of the negatives of his parents’ relationship alongside the both of them, if you could even call it a relationship. There were fights, there was screaming, his father held no respect for his mother and would treat her like a silly trophy he could pull out when he wanted to brag. His mother, she had no self-respect—she allowed her husband to treat her like dirt on his shoes and only clung to him the more he pulled away. It was no marriage, it was simply a woman and a man living together in a desperate attempt at looking like they mattered within the town.
IV. Aris found it hard to grow close to either of his parents, his father constantly trying to tell him ways to better himself, telling him how to act, what to do, throwing it in his face that he would never be “number one” if he wasn’t just like him. His mother only nagged and attached herself to Gaston, Aris hated every minute of it. Still, as much as he began to resent who his father was, he still shared his genes, and he still shared a mutual hatred for the royalty of the town. It was no surprise that this hatred, that this inner desire to be better took over his life and who he was as a person, it was all he knew at this point. After spending so many years in school watching everybody swarm around the beast, he grew tired of the other getting all of the attention he could, of the other doing better than him at everything. After staging a scene with some of the other children in his school, Aris hid in the shadows and watched as the other was bullied and beaten until he was finally forced to leave the school.
Soon after, Aris became that of a popular boy within his classmates, he wasn’t forced to look at that ugly little beast anymore, and for the shortest time, he felt good enough.
V. Still, there was never a good enough in a town where your father—your family was a joke. It didn’t take long for things to go back to the way they were, for people to overlook Aris and for his world to go back to crumbling. His teenage years were the worst, the fighting in his home only grew, it seemed as though everything just flew downhill. He just didn’t get it, he was strapping, he was handsome, he could hunt just like his father, he was everything a town could want for a hero and yet he still felt in his heart like he would never be good enough. His father had lost faith within him, had given up on his ideal son. He simply didn’t cut it; this was never the life his father had imagined. Gaston should have gotten the girl, he should have married her from the beginning and begun the life he so righteously deserved, and yet he was stuck with a wife he didn’t love and a son who would never add up.
VI. Eventually, Aris wanted an escape, a chance to start over, a chance to begin somewhere his name wasn’t shunned and looked down upon. He wanted a chance to prove himself, and shortly after discovering about the academy the prince himself had gotten himself into, it only made Aris strive to go more, to do better, to woo the students and teachers and finally get the revenge he deserved—but most of all, it was finally an escape from home.
