[samaire elliot nash]

Samaire Nash had always been one of those girls who liked her personal space. Maybe it was because she didn't really enjoy the company of people all that much in the first place or just something as simplistic as being anti social. Who knows? For whatever reasons stated above and any unknown ones Sam was sitting by the pretty green pond with her feet dangling in the water. Unlike most girls, Sammi didn't mind getting her feet dirty, or any other part of her body for that matter and her filthy mouth often attested to that. She preferred the pond to the pool and really didn't see much difference in either one except that the pond was always less crowded just because it was after all, a pond.

She had needed some relaxation for almost a week now and this was the first time she had been able to break away from classes and get it. The "teachers" here didn't give Sam her free time very easily because they didn't trust her and unlike most of the students they didn't trust, she deserved their discomfort. She was a flight risk and they knew it. Although, so far almost all of her attempts of escape had failed. She hated the feeling she got from being trapped here and she hated that so many of the students trusted the officials with their young little lives when she knew they were bad news. At a young age she had learned to gauge whether people were to be trusted or not and these people who ran this place couldn't be. How were you supposed to trust someone who stole you from your home like a thief in the night?

She splashed her feet in the water in frustration. She hated that even when she was trying to relax she still had to concentrate. If she was lucid and awake then she had to concentrate to stay in one place even to this day. It had been four years since her problems arose and ever since then it had been a fight for control. Her conjuring skills were far easier to manage but the teleportation had been problematic throughout. She quickly thought of a sandwich, bacon lettuce and tomato heavy on the mayonnaise and as if to prove how well she had mastered conjuring it fell into the palm of her hand. One bite and she was satisfied that her powers still worked.

It didn't work exactly like that though, she had to have seen the object before in order for her to be able to conjure it. She had to have seen it and studied every detail of it. She often wished that her teleportation powers were that easy. Alas, they were not and they were all tied in with how well she could hold her emotions together. She often wondered why some teens got all the luck because she would kill to be normal. If this had been several years back and she had still been at home then she would be burning at the stake by then.

[johnathan davenport]

John needed to let off some steam. He was absolutely furious at having to be in this place, and he was concerned for his younger brother. Although it was thanks to the proffessors that he was back to a normal human again, he still didn't trust them. He desperately wanted to get Michael out of here and safe home. Here there were dangers that John couldn't see - dangers that he couldn't necessarily always protect Michael from.

Right now, Michael was sleeping - so John had come out into the cool night to try and clear some of his thoughts. The stars were bright, and he studied them curiously as he walked. They often made him feel so insignificant, so small. It comforted him to know that maybe he wasn't as important as he felt he was. This way, a little bit of weight was lifted from his shoulders.

A heavy sigh tore from his lips, his hands tucked into his stone wash jeans. His long brown hair hung in his eyes, but he didn't mind much. The boy had a lot on his shoulders, and he carried around a lot of baggage that he wouldn't let others see. It was the older brother syndrome. He was used to carrying everthing on his shoulders and having to put on a happy face. But since the death of half of his siblings - the weight had become almost unbearable.

More than anything, he longed for a release of some sorts. And, not surprisingly, he had returned to alcohol. He had a friend who was a conjurer who would supply him, and in return John did some favors for him.

Taking a swig of the whiskey bottle in hand, his wandering feet led him to the pond. The wind blew strongly through his hair, but it wasn't too cold. It was refreshing. Besides, the whiskey helped. He was wearing a simple white wifebeater, his muscled arms free in the night.

Spotting someone by the edge of the pond, a slight smirk tugged at his lips. She was, to say the least, pretty damn hot. Taking another big sip of some liquid courage, he took a seat beside her and gave her his sexiest smile. A girl! Perfect. Just the thing to distract him from his own mind for a while.

"Hey.." he said in greeting before looking out at the pond. Taking another swig, he rested the bottle on his knee as he propped his legs up a bit. "Nice night.." he commented, looking over at her again.