NPLH - Chapter 5 -- Witchblade Karma

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Date Posted: 13:14:08 06/23/03 Mon
Author: moondreamer
Subject: NPLH - Chapter 5
In reply to: moondreamer 's message, "No Place Like Home - PG-13" on 09:16:08 05/12/03 Mon

Chapter 5

His first meal at the new school was, for Ian, a solemn affair. He had found his way to the dinning room unaided. Although the muted noises and odors of stale food that permeated the dusty hallways were a dead giveaway as far as which direction he should head.

Ian had stood in the doorway and quickly looked around. It was, like the school itself, a mirror image of the schools he had previously attended. The dinning room was a large, acoustically lacking room. The sounds and smells rose to the high ceiling and coated the wood beams and windows with a film of dusty grease. Long wood tables were unimaginatively laid out. Their low wood benches waiting for the round-back poor posture of those who would straddle them.

It looked, in Ian�s opinion, like a prison dining room. Not that he had actually seen the inside of a prison, but, once, while observing members of the estate staff, he had seen portions of a movie that was not on his approved list. The main character had been a singer who had jet-black hair, waved back from his face and combed high. Unlike the movie, no one in any of the schools Ian attended had ever broke into song in the dinning room and gyrated on the tables. He kept waiting though.

Ian picked up a tray and joined the others in the snaking line. It was the usual cafeteria type setup with the usual stodgy fare. Carbohydrates abounded. A starchy, gluey, indescribable mass that clung and congealed to the serving spoons, and defied the laws of gravity by refusing to drop down onto the plates.

He glanced up at the servers. They too were the usual sort. Indifferent, uninterested, anxious to be done and on their way. Sometimes, he could find allies in the strangest of places. But here, as he looked at those before him, he couldn�t find anything in any of them to spark his interest.

He could hear the rise and fall of the other student�s voices, but felt, as always, isolated. Surrounded by an invisible bubble not of his own making. He picked a seat towards the back of the hall. Away from the other students, one that placed his back at the wall and allowed him to view the hall without straining.

Ian had selected his dinner as carefully as he could. The simple meal consisted only of some unidentified type of meat, the only kind not covered in a grey sauce. Some cheese, some bread, some limp, overcooked, grey vegetables and some fruit.

As he stared down at the unappetizing meal before him he was assailed by a wave of homesickness. It was so strong, without even closing his eyes he could imagine, for just a brief moment, that he was home. He could see the delicate tracings in the china before him, smile at his reflection in the gleaming silver. And ah, the aromas. The savory, sensual scents of an epicurean feast. There truly was no place like home.

Even on the nights his father entertained, the nights when Ian ate alone in his room; he could still find a place where he could stand, unnoticed, unobserved and fill his senses with pleasure. Ian loved the nights when his father had guests. Kenneth Irons truly shone in a crowd. He would be at his most gracious as company seemed to bring out even more of his ever-present charm.

No guest ever felt overlooked. If you were invited to a function at the estate rest assured there was a reason. Whether you knew it or not, you would be of some use to Kenneth Irons and as Ian had learned early on, a willing participant was always better than an unwilling victim.

Ian�s musings where interrupted when Ivy and his pack of fawning sycophants entered the hall. They were loud and obnoxious, guaranteed to cause indigestion. Ian could see the tension in some of the other students as they hunched over their plates. Their relief was palpable as Ivy passed them by.

He did his best to ignore them and tried to force his food down his suddenly tight throat. He could, no, he would ignore this weakness within himself. He wasn�t home, and all the wishing in the world wouldn�t take him there.

********

As the students ate, in another part of the school, one of the porters was knocking back a glass of cheap whiskey after finishing his work for the day. He had been the lucky one that had ended up taking Ian�s bag up to his room, and as such, had a large audience amongst the staff this evening. They crowded eagerly around the table. Like the students, the staff had heard all the rumors regarding the new arrival and was anxious for first impressions of the new arrival to be shared.

�Tore the room right apart, he did.� The stringy haired lout held his glass out for a quick refill, then smiled his thanks. �Looked like a savage animal had been there, let me tell ya.�

�But he�d only been here for a few minutes before the dinner hour.� One of the others crowded around him interjected. Disappointed that he had run to the restroom and hadn�t been the one chosen to take care of the new student�s luggage.

�And he looks so quiet and unassuming.� One of the younger maids exclaimed as she pretended not to notice how the lucky porter�s hand with its dirty and broken nails was sneaking about her waist.

�Well, the stillest water runs deep and cold, as my old mum used to say.� He intoned solemnly. �Deep and cold.�

The maid shivered in delight, like a child hearing a ghost story. �Deep and cold.� She echoed his words.

�We�ll have trouble with this one, we will. Ya just wait and see.�

Thrilled with the success of his tale he snuck his dirty hand a little higher up her stomach only to squeal as it was slapped down.

�Here now!� She exclaimed indignantly. His information, while interesting, didn�t warrant that kind of payment.

:�What kind of a girl do you think I am?�

Seeing that another glass of whiskey wasn�t forthcoming, the porter just sighed.

�Ya don�t really want me to answer that now do ya?� He leered back at her. Shrugging at her disinterest now that his moment of glory was done. He looked around at the others.

�Well, God knows I hate the little buggers anyway. Who wants to go on out and have a proper drink w�it me? We�ll have to be back here tomorrow and clean up after the little rich beasts, but for now, I want to go forget them all.�

A few of the younger men rose and followed him out the door. All grumbling at the misfortunes of fate that led them here while the older men stayed behind, shaking their heads and jeering about the money they�d waste.

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Replies:

Wonderful new chapter! Poor Ian! Can't wait to see what happens next! =) (NT) -- Spin, 12:48:28 06/24/03 Tue