action; phone (forward dated to Monday!)

[cursedtolive]

{ACTION} Mayfield Elementary; before class
[Despite seeing and hearing some things he didn't want to encounter during the trip into the void, Czeslaw has been attending school without missing a day. Dressed in a white shirt with a tie (fixed to be straight by his drone mother) and jacket but missing his usual hat, Czes makes his way on campus, arriving a little bit early.

He bumps shoulders with people sometimes, uttering a small "sorry" whenever he does. But if he sees a face he recognizes, he looks up with the best smile he could plaster on his face.]

Hi... good morning! How's it going?

{ACTION} Stone Street; afternoon
[Czeslaw received something in the mail after coming home from school. It was just an envelope with a card inside, but what's important to Czes is what is dran on the card. It's a two-panel comic, a simple picture of a human with a wound in the first panel; the human's wound is healed in the second. He looks at it for a couple of seconds before he pales and nearly drops it, turning white and running inside the house.]

{PHONE} filtered to Firo Prochainezo
Firo! Hey Firo, can I talk to you?

[First he calls Firo, because this is the guy he was living with back home. First he's got to call Firo and see if he's still alive and around, and tell him what happened. He already tried to see if the mail wasn't joking, and sure enough it was real. The cut on his lip he bit down on it earlier healed in seconds.]

Not over the phone, though -- I can come to to your house or meet you anywhere, but I need to talk to you!

{ACTION} Nelson Street; nighttime
[Czes was also going to try calling Elmer C. Albatross but instead he runs. He remembers that Elmer lived on Nelson Street, so he runs as fast as he can to that street, hoping he'll find the house. But it's the one with the treehouse, right?

He's running so fast he might crash right into a passerby, saying "Sorry!" and hoping he won't get pulled into a conversation.]

Comments

action-elementary;

[cursedtolive]

It's my first time in school, actually. I didn't think I'd end up going to one in a place like this, but it passes the time.

[encored]

That's one way to look at it. Perhaps you'll be able to handle the drones better since you aren't used to this. [when he says "this", it's followed by a grand sweeping gesture that indicates the entirety of the schoolyard.]

I do apologize in advance on Mayfield's behalf for being unable to offer you a proper schooling experience for your first one, though.

[cursedtolive]

I don't mind. If I get bored, I think I might spend the day at the library, anyway. What're you doing here, Charles? Didja decide to go to class?

[encored]

I came to pick up more rosin for my violin bow, actually. The music room here is good for that much. [and not much else, if his humble opinion is anything to go by.]

[cursedtolive]

So you're not going to class... what grade are you in?

[encored]

[he looks skyward for a moment. this is how little he goes to school, he still has trouble remembering his grade after three years...]

That would be grade six, I believe. Quite close to being assigned the next level, but the town won't move me up. Not that high school classes with drones are any better than elementary school classes with drones, of course.

What of yourself?

[cursedtolive]

I was put in the fifth grade here. I knew most of the things they teach though, except stuff that came up after the 1930s.

[encored]

Two decades of drone history isn't going to keep your attention occupied for long, I'm afraid. It could be worse, but a little warning ahead of time never hurt anyone.

[cursedtolive]

Hahaha. If I get bored, I'll find a place to go. Will you be in the music room all day?

[encored]

More or less. [kicking entire drone classes out in the process like the excellent student he is...]

If you run out of things to do, you could stop by. I can almost guarantee that you won't be bothered by drone faculty or students there.

[cursedtolive]

... Do you lock them out of the room?

[encored]

Something like that. Some drones are programmed to kick up a fuss, but they're easy to get rid of.

[cursedtolive]

You sure know a whole lot about this city, don't you?

[encored]

I've been here long enough to figure out how it works, for the most part. One of the only perks of being an old-time resident.

[cursedtolive]

Old-time, huh? How long've you been here?

[encored]

Almost three years now. [he looks to the overhang of the school roof momentarily, quietly counting out the months in his head before nodding.] Two years and eight months, to be precise.

[cursedtolive]

Geez... that sure is a long time. And you've been in the same grade this whole time?

[encored]

You can see why I find the idea of attending class about as far away from thrilling as it can possibly be, yes?

[cursedtolive]

I completely understand, now. But why won't they move you up?

[encored]

Because I don't physically age. That was returned to me early in my stay, so the drones have almost always seen me as twelve and will continue to do so until my departure. Quite irritating, but not much can be done about it.

[cursedtolive]

You're stuck in that body, huh?

... I sympathize.

[encored]

[it's not hard to piece two and two together, between that comment and what they had talked about in the void.]

Shall I assume you've a long stretch of grade five ahead of you?

[cursedtolive]

Well, no. Not here. [Yet. He'll find his regain mail after classes, however.]

But I've been "ten years old" for a couple centuries, now.

[encored]

Ah. [that's some definite sympathy on his face. it's a pretty rare sentiment for him to display, but really, looking like a kid forever is both a blessing and a curse. ...mostly a curse.]

In that case, perhaps you'll be able to enjoy a bit of a growth spurt while you're here.

[cursedtolive]

You think so? It'd be strange growing taller after all these years, but I think I can look forward to it.

[He laughs.]