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The Newspaper Club
Topic Started: Dec 22 2013, 05:28 PM (279 Views)
Dragon
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text and everything else on his mind to notice that she was out of breath from rushing back to him. He was just grateful she was back, already. "Definitely! I can't wait to see what you've got going on with this club of yours." and that wasn't even a lie. He really was interested in the concept of a Newspaper Club, especially since the newspaper hadn't been used in decades. Whether or not Marty would be able to bring it back had yet to be seen, but Dante was willing to be with this new story of hers, she'd have a good chance at it.

'Which is just...unfortunate. If only her new story wasn't something so very dangerous to our cause.' and if only the enemy wasn't using Marty in this fashion. Dante had already grown to like the girl, and knowing she was being used by the enemy in an effort to undermine the Shitennou, who had only just been given this new chance to prove themselves as heroes to the kingdom and not enemies, just made him feel terrible.

"Lead the way!" he pocketed his cell phone as he said this and tried to maintain a cheerful attitude while he fell into step behind the copper-headed student. And she was right, it didn't take them long to reach the club house, at all. In under five minutes they had arrived and Dante followed Marty into the room, at a total loss as to what to expect of a newspaper club.


OOC: I'm going to let you describe what it looks like, Eva. I'm not sure how Marty would keep things.
 
Lady Storyteller
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Pressing her hand against a keypad outside a door that read Newspaper Club, Marty gestured down the hall. "You have Art Club a little further down. I get a lot of models coming in here by accident," she said absently as the door slide open revealing... another time.

Like the bar they'd just come from, the Newspaper Club looked like it had stepped out of the Roaring 20's. She had the wall's paint setting to natural dark wood with accents in hunter green. Four wooden desk were set up with computers with a fifth one housing an antique typewriter that was either a piece of junk or worth a small fortune. It was hard to tell and Marty had never bothered looking into it.

The desks were covered in paper, some actually written by hand. No one ever wrote by hand any more. Some people didn't even know how to except to give a sloppy signature. Yet here were pages and pages written in neat cursive.

On another desk was an actual phonograph. The bookshelf next to it packed to the brim with actual vinyl records.

Old newspapers were stacked high over metal filing cabinets. Articles on old murders and the rise of the royal families were tacked to the walls.

The place was utter Chaos and yet Marty could find whatever she was looking for at a drop of a hat. Most of the time.

Laney jumped down and started burrowing in a trash can full of paper, nesting.

"Well, here we are," she said, pushing aside a stake of papers to set down her laptop. "Not much, I know. Its just me but I make due with what I can."

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Dragon
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Stepping into the room after Marty was like stepping into the twilight zone. Dante blinked a little rapidly as he took in the vintage appearance of the room and all the stuff inside, completely caught off guard. It wasn't just that Dante wasn't used to seeing such antiques or such strange decore, but mostly because his past self, from the 21st Century, HAD seen such stuff. Hell, even the hand written documents Dante spied on the desk seemed both completely shocking, and yet completely normal.

It was one of those moments for Dante when his current life's memories warred with not one, but TWO past lives and THEIR memories. The silver-haired man felt a moment of vertigo as the previous lives argued with his brain, but after a moment he managed to push them back down into his subconcious and focus on the here and now.

"This is quite...interesting..." he had to say SOMETHING to cover his momentary silence. Not that it mattered, because if Marty had been looking at him at that moment, she'd have seen a strange expression cross his face that could easily have been mistaken for dislike and not just shock and bewilderment. "Not in a bad way!" he quickly stated, since the last thing he wanted to do was insult Marty.

"I've never seen anything like this, is all..." once again in charge of his full faculties, Dante stepped deeper into the room and began to examine the desks. His eyes took everything in, then lingered over the hand-written documents on the one desk. A bemused look tilted his lips and brightened his blue eyes as he reached down to pick up the first sheet of paper. "I was not aware you could write..." not that Dante was any good with writing. 'Except, I wonder if I CAN write, now...' physical writing was not something Dante had ever needed, but something told him he could probably write like a pro with the memories he had from his past lives. Perhaps he would have to practice in the near future.

Not wanting to intrude too deeply, Dante quickly replaced the paper on the desk, trying not to read what was written. He'd mostly picked it up to study the neat penmenship that scrawled across the actual paper--two things Dante had never been around. The paper felt strange, different from printed pages, and the ink was somehow prettier than anything he'd seen printed.

"You are just full of surprises, Marty...and talented..." he found himself stopping before the typewriter and couldn't help but tap at the upraised keys experimentally. "Does this actually work? Do you actually use it?"

Dragon
 
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"Sorry about the mess," Marty said, shrugging sheepishly. "Its usually just me so I don't pay it much mind. Its just paper. Not food or anything gross."

Quote:
 
"I was not aware you could write..." not that Dante was any good with writing. 'Except, I wonder if I CAN write, now...' physical writing was not something Dante had ever needed, but something told him he could probably write like a pro with the memories he had from his past lives. Perhaps he would have to practice in the near future.

Not wanting to intrude too deeply, Dante quickly replaced the paper on the desk, trying not to read what was written. He'd mostly picked it up to study the neat penmenship that scrawled across the actual paper--two things Dante had never been around. The paper felt strange, different from printed pages, and the ink was somehow prettier than anything he'd seen printed.

"You are just full of surprises, Marty...and talented..." he found himself stopping before the typewriter and couldn't help but tap at the upraised keys experimentally. "Does this actually work? Do you actually use it?"


"Sometimes," Marty said, looking at the typewriter wistfully. "But only if its for my own benefit. Its a lot easier to get everything set up for a newspaper if I'm not constantly retyping things on my laptop. No dictation option, see?" she said, showing him what had to be a centuries old laptop as she set it up on her desk. Honestly, it was amazing it still worked. "I've had to upgrade it a bit but it just doesn't have enough memory for the Talk to Text software we have today."

Pressing a little button on its side, the laptop slowly wurred to life. "It'll take a few minutes to start up," she explained, walking away from the ancient machine to pick up one of the handwritten notes.

"I learned to write because it looked so awesome in movies. You have those Jane Austin flicks where women would write these long, romantic letters or in journals. Their handwriting was so beautiful that I wanted to see if I could duplicate it. Turned out to be pretty lucrative. Back home people would hire me to do wedding invitations and holiday cards. I have some calligraphy pens around here somewhere if you want to see them."
Edited by Lady Storyteller, Jan 3 2014, 01:41 PM.
 
Dragon
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"I don't think I've ever seen Calligraphy pens up close." Dante mused, deciding that was a better topic to focus on rather than the ancient piece of equipment Marty was trying to run her newspaper club with. Truth was, he couldn't imagine how she was getting anything done with something that old...but clearly she was into that sort of thing. Then there was her whole attitude toward money and spending it....The last thing he wanted was to insult her. "It sounds like you really enjoyed the past time...why didn't you go into that? Or are you still writing letters and the sort in your spare time?" he asked while he waited for her to get out the pens.
 
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Switching tactics, she went to her desk to rummage around for the pen set.

"Well I haven't actually been on the ship very long. Just a few weeks, in fact, and with everything happening... its just be hard to really get settled. I am sort of afraid they're going to end up shutting the place down once I get comfortable," she replied, pulling a gold tin box from the drawer. Opening it, she revealed three black pins and a variety of inks and pen tips. "But as soon as I get a chance, I'll make up some flyers. I find they get more attention if I do them by hand. Show the skill, you know?"

Extracting one of the pens that already houses a tip, she picked up some black ink before handing him the rest of the box.
 
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"That new, huh?" he asked, grinning at the girl as she rummaged through her desk, but then her mention of everything going on, and the possibility of the ship being shut down caused the grin to fade away.

"I guess a lot of people are behind, these days...I mean, even I'm a bit behind in my course work." the grin had turned into a soft frown, and his steel-blue eyes were now darkened with thought. "While I could understand their wanting to shut this place down...well, I hope they don't." wanting nothing more than to change the subject and bring some light back into the situation, Dante smiled softly at Marty. "After all, I only just met you! If they shut the school down, I wouldn't get a chance to get to know you, better." Though he was teasing a little bit, that didn't take any of the truth out of his statement. He really did want to get to know her, and not just because the enemy was using her! If not for that, he'd still be very interested in Marty Verity...there just seemed to be something about her.

By this time Marty had found what she was looking for, pulling out a fancy-looking box with even fancier calligraphy stuff inside. Curiosity burning in his eyes, Dante began to look over the pens, gently brushing his fingers over the black pens and the sharp, steel tips. There was a variety of color in the ink bottles, or so it would seem, and Dante felt his fingertips itch with a sudden desire to write something out and test the theory that was bubbling inside his mind.

"This is fascinating..." he offered, softly, blue eyes turning back toward Marty to see what she was doing with the pen and ink she had taken. "May I?" he suddenly asked, pulling out one of the pens. His body acted of its own volition, the man that was Kunzite taking over from his subconscious so that his fingers moved on their own. In moments he had the pen tip secured and had pulled out a bottle of ink, choosing the black since it was probably less difficult to get a hold of.
 
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Marty just filled the pen she'd kept and had begun to write on some white printer paper when Dante suddenly secured the pot of black ink.

She watched him curiously maneuver the pen. "You know how to write?" she asked in surprise. "These pens are a little different, mind you. Make sure you keep them angled." she held it up for him to see. "If you right with the tip, the ink won't come out."

Showing him her example, she wrote Dante out in beautiful calligraphy on the stark white paper. Turning it, she let him see.
 
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OOC: So I had this post half-written the other day, and SOMEHOW I hit the right combo of buttons to select all of it and delete it ALL. Needless to say, I was rather pissed, and then I just couldn't seem to get into the right mood to POST...probably because, since I was at work and working on a crunch, I couldn't just start over right that minute, and then when I got home I couldn't quite remember what I had originally written. *sigh* So here we go, again. Sorry Eva!



Hearing the surprise in Marty's voice, Dante stopped for a moment. How was he going to explain his sudden ability to write? After all, it wasn't exactly a common skill, nor was it actually a skill HE had had. Caught off guard, he covered his uncertainty by turning his attention to her explanation and demonstration. When she had finished, he couldn't help but smile, his eyes gleaming with awe. "Wow...is that my name?" Careful not to actually touch the lettering, since his memories of the past informed him that to do so might result in smudging the ink, he traced the lines Marty had created with his fingertip.

"You have beautiful penmanship, Marty." he stated with a smile before turning back to the paper and ink he'd chosen. He had already put the pen together, his hands having done that based on subconscious, physical memories, and now he carefully dipped the tip of the pen into the ink well, as Marty has instructed and as Kunzite's memories told him to do, before taking the pen and attempting to copy what Marty had done with his name. "I have some knowledge of writing, though I admit I'm a little rusty. I don't generally have a reason to write anything out."

Surprisingly he managed to write his name out without any mishap, but it wasn't as neatly written as what Marty had produced. Just the same, it was legible and still quite nice to look upon. Pulling away, he let Marty examine his handiwork for a moment before his hands began acting on their own, again. This time when he took pen to paper what ended up appearing wasn't a language Marty would recognize. Hell, it wasn't a language Dante would have known if not for the memories of his past life as Kunzite. The beautiful, flowing script scattered with dots and dashes above various loops and whorls looked more like a child's fancy of lettering. When he finished, Dante could only blink at what he had created.

"Ah...that's something I dabbled with when I was younger." he muttered, realizing that Marty was going to want to know what it was. "It's Persian.
I saw it in a book, once, and thought it was pretty..." yeah, that sounded plausible. "I know a bit of ancient Kanji, too..." once again his hands seemed to move on their own, except this time the pen danced in a series of slashes, creating a line of vertical symbols that would have been more at home in the 21st century rather than the 31st.
 
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Marty watched him fascinated. "Parisian," she said, in awe, testing the word. "That's an Earth thing, right? I have family somewhere on Earth. A place called Chicago. Is that close to Paris?" She hadn't done well with Earth geology. Her teachers had been much more concern with them knowing where things were on their own planet, Mars, and that they could always find the Moon Kingdom in the sky.

Without really waiting for an answer, she leaned in to take a closer look at the interesting lettering. "What does it say?"
 
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Dante grinned at her somewhat innocent and fairly ignorant question, finding it cute. It wasn't the first time someone had asked him such a question, though most people had a cursory knowledge of the main continents."Chicago is in North America, which is actually a completely different continent from the one Paris is on; they have a whole ocean between them. These days, though, it's only a few hour flight between the two."

In leaning over the parchment he'd written on, she placed herself rather close to Dante and he could smell the shampoo they'd used at the salon earlier in the day. Though it wasn't anything overly sweet or powerful, that close he couldn't help but find it a little intoxicating. Combined with the profile of her face near his, with her pert nose and softly-rounded cheeks; she looked a bit like a cherub--a rather attractive cherub. He licked his lips, unable to help himself, and leaned in a bit more so that they were reading the phrase he'd written, heads close together.

"The Persian says "If a leaf can change its colors, can a Prince change his fate?" As he read the strange question, he found himself wondering why he had written it. Afterall, he hadn't been conciously thinking about what he was writing. In fact, now that he thought about it, he hadn't been actively thinking, at all, when he started writing out the Persian script. 'Great...' a chill ran down his spine, and he couldn't help but wonder if the ghost of Kunzite weren't so much a memory. Was it possible his past life was posessing his current self? 'Gods, that sounds so crazy...' Then again, his body writing with an actual pen because his past life remembered how was also a bit crazy. Hell, his whole life, lately, was something out of a fairy-story!

"Ah...the Kanji..." he blinked and tried to dismiss his current thought trend by focusing on something else. Reading the lettering he'd chosen, he found himself smiling. "That's your name." He pointed out each of the characters in turn while sounding out the letters as they woudl have been in the 21st Century so that she could hear how they sounded before saying the whole name for emphasis.

"Marty Verity. It's actually rather pretty..." he smiled at her, eyes gleaming. So strange how drawn he felt to her. Was it just because she sort of reminded him of his sisters, or was it something else? 'Admit it, Dante...you find her attractive. This has nothing to do with your sisters and her slight resemblance of them, and everything to do with her being a cute girl with a pleasant personality....'
 
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A deep blush crept up her cheeks. Was he flirting with her? No, surely not. This guy was way too hot.

Then again, she'd met a lot of hot guys who sort of flirted as though it were second nature for them. That had to be it.

"It means Warrior of Mars," she said, feeling her cheeks on fire. "My full name is Martina which means warring. Apparently my family really expected me to be a fighter. Well not, that's not true. They wanted to name me after the planet, Mars, cause I was the first baby born there in my family." She was babbling.

"This is really pretty though. Thank you," she said, looking back down at the paper. She was highly aware of how close he stood. Wanting to put some distance between them before her skin turned permanently red, she ran over to a shelf that held actual books. There wasn't a lot there and they were by no means in excellent condition but they were real. Made out of paper and everything. "You might like this," she called over her shoulder. "I found it in a junk shop if you can believe it."

She pulled out a worn, slightly torn comic book and held it out to him. The cover read Superman. "Have you ever seen one?"
 
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His lips parted at the sight of the comic, but before his tongue could betray him, yet again, he managed to reign in his excitement and the initial response that wanted to pop out of his mouth.

"I...I've heard of these." he stumbled over the words, because the part of his memories that had grown up during the 20th Century DID know comic books. Knew THIS comic book, even! Superman had been created before he was born and had been in its prime when he was a child. They'd reintroduced it when he was just a teenager, and he'd actually READ these stories. Faint memories of time passed in the alternate world where a man of great power rescued Earth from great evil. He'd been so drawn to them when he was a kid...considering his ancient past life had been dedicated to the same thing, it was no wonder Superman appealed to him as a kid.

"It's a comic book, right? They...don't really exist in paper-form, anymore." gingerly, because some distant part of him knew that even in bad condition, this thing was priceless, he opened the glossy book and studied the colorful artwork within. "It's a pity, really...there's nothing quite like holding a real book and reading it."

Closing the comic, he handed it back to Marty and began to look over her meager bookshelf. "My parents aren't technophobes by any means, but they insisted that we appreciate REAL books. My mother's library...well, it's impressive, to say the least. We grew up on story-telling from actual books. My parents didn't let us have electronic books until the school demanded it of us. Hell, now that I think about it, I bet my mother knows how to write, just like you...but I don't recall ever seeing her do it..."

He found himself turning to gaze back at Marty, finding a whole new appreciation for the girl's tastes. "You know, you're the first person outside of my family that I've ever met who was interested in real books...or comics...or writing..." he shook his head, a little awed by that fact.
 
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A blush crept up Marty's cheeks. He looked at her like she'd done something amazing. The things were amazing - the comic, the quill, paper - those were wonderous. She just collected them.

"Some friends gave it to me when I got accepted to the Academy," she said, not adding that her friends were old men who had been born well BS - Before Serenity. She just didn't connected with kids her own age very well. They thought she was odd. Well, maybe she was, but she liked herself at least. Most days.

"Most of my stuff's hand-me-downs or things I happen upon in junk stores. The gramaphone is my grandfather's though." She moved away from him. It felt suddenly warm in there. "I like old movies, you see? The ones that were made before color. If I ever own my own house, I hope I can have a movie theater in it with deep purple walls, a popcorn machine and lots of framed posters of my favorite movies. I really like Superman too. He's this great hero from another planet who protects Earth. He doesn't have to but he thinks its the right thing to do. He pretends to be this weak human but he's not. He's so much more but he has to hide it."
 
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He could tell by her blush that he had embarrassed her, but she was trying not to show it. Though she was clearly babbling, the chatter didn't seem to bother Dante, any. The truth was, he was incredibly used to girl-chatter. Twelve sisters tended to either make you immune to babble-talk, or hate it. Angelo hated it--of that he was pretty certain, anyway--but Dante didn't mind. Perhaps because, being the older brother, he was so often looked to as 'protector' and the one they could go to for advice and help when they didn't trust Mom or Dad not to freak out about something.

"You collect this stuff, huh?" he asked as she talked about the various places she'd picked up her things. The commentary about having her own movie theater made him grin and he found himself shaking his head. "That sounds nifty, Marty...I mean it! I've never been to an old-time theater like the one you're describing, but...I don't know. It seems like it would be fun. I could definitely agree with having a little place all to yourself to watch your favorite things." though black-and-whites certainly never would have crossed his mind before that moment. I wonder what she sees in them? Maybe it's just nice to be reminded of a simpler, sweeter time...

"Superman, huh?" since his memories made it easy for him to know exactly what she was talking about, he had to be careful where he treaded on the topic. He didn't want to accidentally say too much, after all. "He sounds pretty cool, actually. I think I can actually understand his need to keep his true identity secret..." that was an understatement, but Dante certaintly couldn't explain his real reason for understanding. "I mean, sometimes the best, good deeds are those done when no one knows who did them. They seem more...selfless that way."

The tall man had followed her around the room, and now he was leaning against the wall, arms crossed as he watched her. He wanted nothing more than to continue listening to her talk about her favorite things, but...well, he didn't really have the time. "So is that why you got into the newspaper club? I mean, as you said before, no one really reads true newspapers, anymore."
 
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