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A short excerpt from some role playing. Just an example of how I write when role playing... very different than when I am writing a novel.
Serenity Kasimir Lake, his chocolate eyes started at the name he had written on the board for a moment. Jethro had been at the university for fifty years as hard it was to believe.
A dark brunette tapped the tip of her heel on the stone floor of a coffee shop waiting patiently for her white chocolate latte. She had left early to make sure she had plenty enough time to pick up her morning coffee before leaving for the University. She had a seminar promptly at eight and it was already seven forty. Could the baristas take any longer? She stared at the young girl that handled the cup in which was entitled to hold her heated substance of energy. When the barista finally let out the words, "Serenity, white chocolate latte," She snatched the cup with one hand and slid a hand warmer on with the other and let her upper lip curl as she met eyes with the girl,
"I hope they're paying you by the hour and not by your performance," she scoffed and sipped the coffee and wrinkled her nose slightly, "Oh dear, not hope, pray." She turned and walked out of the small store and to her car, faded orange 1970 Dodge Challenger. The University was only a couple blocks down the road; she wasn't going to be late, maybe even a few minutes early. However Serenity always had the obsession with being promptly on time or sometimes early.
Settling down into the dodge, Serenity sipped her coffee and sat it into a cup holder to her right. Licking her lips she started the engine and backed out of the spot in which she parked. The radio turned on a few seconds after she had pulled out, the radio was old; she never had gotten around to replacing it; she didn't have the urge to replace it actually. Serenity preferred old things, which would explain her style of clothing, always relating to a past fashion of history. As a writer, Serenity loved history; she had to be able to write what she did. Her novels were normally based in the Seventeenth century with Dukes and Queens and few in foreign countries with a different language spoken from each character. Oh, how she dreamed to be able to have lived three hundred years ago.
Large dark wood doors almost beckoned her to walk through their threshold of the University. She smirked slightly as she pulled on the handle and slipped inside, her coffee still in hand. If she were going to be speaking to a group of students that weren’t far from her own age, she knew she would need the energy to keep from snapping their necks. Being only twenty-one, Serenity got a lot of shit from reporters considering her young age. They asked if she regretted never going to college to get the education they claimed she lacked. The way Serenity saw it, college was something she could never do, especially because mommy didn't leave her a cent to her at the age of fifteen.
She pulled her bag back up onto her shoulder that was slipping off and shut the classroom door behind her to see a man standing in front of the window with five fingers intertwined with his hair. She assumed him to be a student based on his appearance and was about to ask him to take his seat until she noticed; he was the only one in the room. She set her bag on top of a large desk at the front of the room which faced rows of theater seats. The bag tipped over and the contents slipped out from their hiding place and onto the shiny wood desk top. Serenity wrinkled her nose and decided against it to fix the mess. Turning to the man she spoke, "You must be the Professor." She stated and turned to face the empty row of seats, "where are all the students? It's two minutes till I was told to be here, if my students were always this timid to enter my classroom on time I’d-" she paused as she glanced at the chalk board behind the desk and saw a name scribbled across it along with her own.
Professor Jethro Orson Loveless, she shivered with delight. Most knew not of the unnatural folk of the town, however, Serenity Lake did. She also knew that the Professor of the University was one of such people. Serenity smirked as she turned away from the board and met eyes with him again, "Nice to meet you, Professor." She would have never said a single courteous thing to the man, but knowing he was Jethro Loveless, she had to say at least one kind word. The man stood silently as if he was listening to her heart’s beat before he turned to face her, his eyes ran over her slim figure and his hands slid into the pockets of his slacks.
His eyes were ever so captivating as they lingered on her presence. She noticed him take in her full figure, not just her face; usually Serenity would have been insulted with such a gesture from any man; however she felt flattered by it coming from the Professor. She had studied his work passionately, hoping to get some sort of knowledge from it, however with a small amount of his work actually being published; it was hard for Serenity to even get a feel for his style, let alone his wisdom.
"Maybe they're intimidated by your age, Miss Lake," he had offered in a deep baritone voice. A small smirk curved at the corner of his lips. He observed her for a moment, gently tracing the sculpted line of her delicate face. The Professor had read her latest book and found it intriguing that she had a passion for a time in which she had never lived; a time in which he had so many fond memories of.
She couldn't help but feel an ice cold shiver run up and down her spine at the sound of his deep voice and as he examined her further more. It was the first time she had heard it, she never imagined it to be so seductive. She almost wanted to curse herself for how much the man attracted her. However, she tried not to be rude and did not ignore his polite comment,
"Ah, but I would be much more intimidated by my wise Professor with so much knowledge to offer." she couldn't help it that time; a small smile crept onto the corner of her thin lips. A smile, for Serenity, meant a lot; most people did not deserve the sight of a positive expression upon her face. It was only the fact that the Professor was a person whom had lived through Serenity's most favorite eras of history that she was being so kind to him; however, she could feel something drawing her toward him. It was an odd feeling and she was not too sure she liked it yet or not. It was most likely going to be the latter of the two.
The Professor’s head turned toward the door as another young girl named Marie entered the room, her face beaming at the sight of him. "Professor Jethro!" he chuckled lightly at her enthusiasm. Her mannerisms were a little coyer than that of a student simply trying to suck up to the teacher. "Hi Marie," he said as other students started to flow through the double doors at a steady pace. As the young girl walked in Serenity's smile vanished. It was mostly her voice that turned Serenity into her normal sour mood, anyone with such positive and bubbly tone in voice, in Serenity's mind, should be stoned. Serenity watched as Jethro walked to his desk and sat upon the top, after sliding over her chaotic mess, so he could leisurely conduct the intro of the course. Serenity stood behind to adjust the mess upon the table which happened to be the small number of novels she had written in her life’s time. Jethro waited a few more minutes to insure that no one else was going to enter,
“Welcome to the Summer English Workshop. I take it, by you signing up, that you are indeed serious about your major and this little workshop will benefit you greatly. The syllabi are on your desk. I trust you to read them. So, let’s get started,” he spoke eloquently in a tone that clearly said, “The podium is all yours, Miss Lake.” Serenity’s gaze lifted and saw a small smile upon his face as he said her name. He clearly was pleased with the control over his students.
Serenity nodded at Jethro as he invited her to the podium. Luckily for Serenity, she got over her fear of speaking in front of others at a young age. When your mother leaves you parent-less in your home at fifteen, speaking confidently to people becomes a skill.
She let out a small sigh and looked up at her audience. She scanned the room with narrowed eyes, mostly looking for people that would tick her off, and then spoke sternly, "Yes, I am only twenty-one, maybe younger than some of you, however, age is only the number in which marks the excellence compared to your few successes." Serenity spoke in a way that often confused people. Her choice in words and their order could always be interrupted in a different way, therefore with a different meaning, however, there was always one correct translation; this Serenity did on purpose. To her, her age was simply a rank that marked her excellence. Being so young with already so many successes in her life to be written in a novel of achievements, to her, the lower your age compared to your successes was the higher score than being older with slowly accomplished wisdom. Once said, Serenity thought of Jethro, how old he was and how much knowledge he must have, compared to her, he was an encyclopedia of information. The thought of taking him home to read was hovering in the back of her head.
She spoke of how she came to writing and of when she began her first novel, “it was like sipping whiskey.” She stated. Each sip coursed with fire, but the thrills of excitement in each sip made her want to fill the glass again. Her novels always held terrific fight scenes, close quarters with enemies, and seductive romances behind tightly closed doors. Most of these scenes, which appears in not only one of her novels but all, had she little knowledge about. She mentioned to the surprisingly intrigued students that imagination can be important in writing, however knowledge and experience enhances one's writing a hundred times more than one's mind ever could.
"Everyone dreams of fairy tales and most never live them other than in their dreams. However, the dreams made real are the best kind," she paused; her body tense from speaking about writing. The subject always intrigued her and got her excited. In each seminar she gave, she made sure never to expose secrets to how she wrote, the way she did things in just the right way, for they were hers, however she always made sure that she raised such inspiration in those who listened that they would run home and try things out for themselves. If there was something Serenity believed in, it was that nothing can be achieved without experience.
"Thank you," she ended her speech and stepped away from the podium, giving it back to Jethro, the rightful owner. She would have rather much listened to him give a seminar than listen to her ramble on like she just had. Sure, she knew she had some wisdom, sure she knew that people liked her work, however, he had the knowledge she longed for, yearned for. She noticed some students adjust in their seats. Had she spoken for that long? Glancing at the clock it hadn't been any more than an hour. Serenity ran through the main points she had spoken of, experience is more important than imagination, writing takes time and effort and cannot be rushed, each character's history must be so detailed and defined you would almost think you knew them, and one last thing, what was it? Ah, no story can be complete without emotion. The last point was humorous, in a sense. Serenity herself had been told many times, even by that of her agent, that she had no emotion. Serenity had noticed movement behind her as she spoke to the class. She did not turn her head, nor did she pause out of curiosity, however, she was tempted to do so. The whereabouts of the man that had caught her eye was unknown to her now. She assumed he had sat behind her to watch the class. She had shifted her weight from one leg to the other, a nervous habit she would do while speaking because usually not noticeable to the audience, however, with the professor behind her, Serenity felt a hint of self-consciousness, an emotion she rarely felt. Usually, the girl would not care about another's negative thoughts about her. If learned, she would shrug them off like an unwanted hand of comfort, but there were the few people that made her want to impress them. The few included the people she idolized, the man sitting behind her was one on the short list of idols and he listed second on that list, the first being Emily Dickinson, Serenity's main inspiration for her work. Her eyes scanned the room as she ended her speech; she smiled slightly at the round of applause but mostly because of the singled applause that came from behind her. It felt good to be appreciated by your idols.
Serenity looked over at Jethro, who had a pen and paper in his hands, taking notes on his student’s reactions, and another small smile crept onto the corner of her mouth, it said thank you in a way for letting her speak to his class. Unlike many of the classes she had spoken to, this one she liked. No one had been rude, to her surprise and disbelief. He must be a wonderful Professor, she thought as the smile remained upon her lips. She nodded a slight "thank you" to the class before picking up her books that had spread across Jethro's desk as she stood while he spoke to his class. She thought the class would have liked to see her books, but she shrugged and thought against it. They were busy teenagers and it was summer, she didn't blame them for not being all that interested.
Jethro brought his hands together and led the class in a clap of approval and appreciation. He then stood as he began to address his class once more,
“Your first assignment is written in the syllabus and it is based upon this lecture. I hope you all were paying attention. Till next time, class dismissed.” Serenity noted the glint of mischievousness in his warm chocolate eyes. It was as if the assignment in the syllabus he had assigned them was by surprise and the students would have difficulty with the task.
She had finally managed to get all of her books back neatly into her bag and the strap over her shoulder when she heard the soft voice speak once more. She turned to look into his eyes and tried not to blush at his charming compliment,
"Well done, Miss Lake," he congratulated with a small smile. The last of the students exited the room as he began erasing the chalkboard. "It’s like you're an old pro," he chuckled lightly as he teased her. He was sure she had had plenty of practice over the last few years. After all, when you're young and you've written a few best sellers, everyone wants to hear from the bright and shining star.
“You’re too kind, sir,” she teased lightly. It wasn't uncommon for Serenity to speak in an old English fashion from time to time. She wrote many books in its time period like that of Jane Eyre and Pride and Prejudice, so naturally, she would like the way people had spoken. Usually when she started speaking in this tone, it was the light hearted side of her that was somewhat enjoying the company she had with her, which of course, was rare. However, there were those times, which were much more common, that she would speak in the crisp tone of proper English to people that annoyed her. She did this when she only wanted to confuse them and leave them boggled, which of course pleased her to watch. Thankfully for Jethro, this was not the case.
Serenity let out a short breath as she watched the professor wipe away the chalk on the chalk board. She thought it odd that he would use an older object to portray his writing in his classroom, most teachers preferred a whiteboard. She let a small smirk spread across her lips at the thought, he's antiquated. Of course he was different, he was a beast of the moon for heaven’s sake, but that was not what she had thought of. His personality was different that any typical man's, that's what intrigued her. However, the fact that he wasn't human also did spark some curiosity in her, being human to her was so bland, so boring. A little bit of science fiction is never bad for the bones, she thought. She wondered then if the University was aware of his “condition.”
Jethro, after finished erasing the chalkboard, started to pack away his things into a worn leather briefcase. Once ready, he turned his attention back to Serenity, once again tracing the lines of her face as she spoke,
“Would you like to get some breakfast or brunch, my treat? One of the perks of working at a school, free food, and it’s actually quite good.” He smiled as he tried to charm her into spending more time with him. He wasn’t even hungry, just like a teenage boy he could eat and eat and eat and never gain weight. He attributed his fast metabolism to his werewolf.
Jethro's proposal was a bit of a shock to the girl, but she responded with, "Lead the way." She had nothing else for that day. She had planned to sit at home and write, sip her coffee until she was content with her progress; however, a small chat with a forever idolized professor sounded so much more promising to her then. She smiled once more into his eyes, ready to follow his lead.