Chance encounters {tag: Kaden}

[EMILIE SIMONE]

Intellectually stimulating or not, Emilie has very much been hoping these alternate assignments would be ones not requiring additional meetings with her English teacher, never mind the fact that she really did like the woman quite a lot. And the work. It was infinitely more satisfying, finishing these assignments and handing them in knowing there had been actual effort put forth. Christian would have made fun of her, no doubt, were he aware of just how far above average she was going for this particular class. And she would have sighed and rolled her eyes, with a quip that would have meant nothing to him while he laughed at what he clearly would have thought to be her expense. He didn’t know, though, and so this was her little secret. Not that it was all that significant, really; still, it was nice keeping things from him.

Was it odd of her, to get even a small bit of joy from something like that? Perhaps. She took what she could, though, and held her head high as she walked through the halls on the way to Dr. Allingham’s classroom, sure to knock on the door before entering despite the fact that it was open. She entered when greeted with silence, glancing at the clock with a slightly furrowed brow only to realize that she was, in fact, at least five minutes early. And perhaps her teacher was running late. She seemed the sort to lose track of time if involved in something interesting, like a puzzle. Or a book. Emilie could wait. She was wonderful at the waiting game.

It was just as she turned away from the clock to find a desk to pass the time in that she noticed she was not, in fact, alone. How she hadn’t noticed, she hadn’t a clue. It was positively embarrassing, especially as the man was one she recognized: Kaden—although she was fairly certain they were supposed to call him by some sort of Mister title—who was always hanging about the English classroom on odd-numbered days that began with “T” and various others, too, that didn’t have quite the same pattern. But how had she not noticed him? She always noticed things like that. Intruders.

Small, friendly smile on her face, she crossed the distance to where he was sitting, looking him up although not in the way many other girls in her class did—it was as though she was assessing him, more so, brow quirked slightly when she’d finished. Fast. Faster than, usually, others were able to tell. “It’s Kaden, correct?” she kept her tone light, and although she smiled she showed no teeth, as was typical of her, hand extended for a shake. There was no need for Misters or Sirs here; as far as she was concerned, they were perfectly equal. He couldn’t have been all that much older than her, anyhow. Emilie wasn’t one for pretending save when necessary, and now it certainly was not necessary.

“I’m assuming you’re waiting for your sister…” There would be no preconceived misconceptions about who he was; he knew that she knew. How that would serve any sort of purpose, Emilie had no idea, but she was hardly going to stand around and pretend as though she didn’t know what was going on, not when conversation might be even the slightest bit more entertaining. She would introduce herself, of course, in time. He could ask. And she was hardly going to state why she was here, for that was all too obvious for anyone with half a brain, which she sincerely hoped he had.



outfit: here

ooc: Sorry if I assumed stuff...let me know if you want anything edited/fixed or whatever, and I'll be more than happy to!

[KADEN ALLINGHAM-HEMSWORTH]

For what it lacked in intellectual reputation, National Geographic was certainly an entertaining read.

Kaden lounged behind Edith’s desk, his fingers flying nimbly through a deck of cards. Ace of spades, jack of diamonds, queen of hearts, king of clubs, and a flurry of black and red movement blurred across his peripheral vision as he swiftly cut the deck and swirled it into a laid-out fan. His eyes scanned the article that he’d found sprawled on the desk before him upon his entrance, pages slightly crinkled in a nuance of wear. His fingers slowed, but continued their automated march, as he read.

The Lone Wolf is typically driven from the pack in the early years of its life, perhaps by an alpha male, or by young adults in search of new territory. Kaden felt the ache of hunger eroding at the edges of his stomach, and wondered vaguely if he should start in on the apple tucked into the pocket of his jacket. Weighing and calculating his advantages and disadvantages of each potential course of action he decided to save it: one never knew when apples could become scared. Satisfied with this explanation he leaned back in his chair again, refocusing himself on the article.

Rather than openly challenge the dominance of the pack leaders, many young wolves between the ages of 1 and 4 years leave their family to search for a pack of their own. Many will keep up this search unsuccessfully for years, some remaining lone wolves until death.

“It’s Kaden, correct?”

Kaden glanced over at the entrant, allowing himself a brief nod of acknowledgement. A student of his half-sister’s, of that much he could assure himself. He glanced her over, allowing the gears of his mind to whirl as they tabulated the new wash of details. Her eyes flitted to the clock, a slight discomfort rippling through her features. Flustered. She must have worn an apathetic façade, not much unlike his own. Intriguing, though not so intriguing that he was inclined to put effort into investigating. He much preferred broad speculation. Late? No…Edie would already be here if this girl were late. Early, then. A punctual creature. Concerned with precision. Rather uptight. Probably intelligent. ”Kaden would be correct.” He glanced at her outstretched hand, wondering how exactly he was supposed to respond to such a gesture, before his mind alerted him to the customary measure. He grasped her hand, tentatively shaking. His fingers snapped back to the cards the instant their hands parted. A firm grip. Confident.

“I’m assuming you’re waiting for your sister…”

A quick inference. Clever. Or perhaps simply a good memory for faces.” Either way, she was once again correct. ”Agreed. Haven’t seen her, have you?” Dear God, he hoped she hadn’t run off somewhere.

He began to deal two hands, his fingers dancing across the table. ”Cards while you wait?” he asked, squaring the remainder of the deck and shuffling it in an even bridge.

outfit is hur

[EMILIE SIMONE]

Well, of course Kaden was correct. Emilie wouldn’t have said anything if it wasn’t; always better to stay silent than speak wrong. Still, she nodded politely, the handshake between them firm, although not in the slightest bit challenging. She had no quarrel with him, this Kaden, and in fact found him to be a bit intriguing, particularly in the way he simply sat there with those cards, shuffling them as though he’d been doing it since he woke up and wouldn’t stop until he went to sleep. Odd.

Curiously, she watched him as he dealt, almost forgetting that he’d asked her a question in way of response. “No, I was wondering if you might have,” her eyes didn’t leave the cards as she continued, although it certainly wasn’t out of nervousness. He did anything but intimidate her. “But then, I suppose neither of us would be here if we had, would we?” she shrugged slightly, not really needing an answer. Quickly, she glanced back at his face before taking the seat across from him, crossing her ankles and smoothing out her skirt as she sat.

“Do you always shuffle cards while you read?” it just seemed a rather strange thing to be doing, particularly in a classroom where decks of cards weren’t simply lying about, and she couldn’t help her curiosity. Besides, the question was innocent enough. He could hardly get offended over something little like that, especially when there was no denying his situation was odd. Emilie glanced furtively over the table, trying to catch a glimpse of what it was he’d been spending his time reading, but the glare from the ceiling’s lights kept her from the knowledge. A magazine, then. And seeing as he didn’t seem the type to read celebrity gossip, she could reasonably infer it was something remotely educational. Why she cared at all, she wasn’t really sure, but this pleased her somewhat.

Hands folded gently in her lap, Emilie watched him as he continued shuffling, glancing over his person almost warily. He was clean cut, innocent looking enough, but what was he doing here? Surely if he was that close with Dr. Allingham, he’d just have called her to meet elsewhere. And besides, there was something else about him which intrigued her, something that suggested he wasn’t quite like the other boys she came across; other than Christian, she didn’t even know of any who could play cards. Well, not that she really could, either. Emilie was…strategic in nearly every aspect of her life, so whether there was genuine skill or mere patience and cunning involved in her victories could often be disputed.

She waited until he finished dealing to speak, eyes flickering back up to his as she slid her hand nearer to her but didn’t pick them up. “So, what game will it be, then?”

[KADEN ALLINGHAM-HEMSWORTH]

Kaden Allingham-Hemsworth wasn’t good at very many things. He’d never been artistic, athletics had always been as foreign as a third-world country, his singing voice had never been quite up to par, etc. etc. But if there was one thing in the world that Kaden was good at, it was observation. And as Kaden’s eyes dug into this young girls’ physique, he found himself delving into an exponentially dilating array of questions. It was like scuba diving, he thought to himself, floating deeper and deeper into a bottomless pool of mystery.

She’d said very little to him, and yet the feeling was almost unnervingly strong. Perhaps it was her voice and its clarity, astoundingly clairvoyant for what Kaden assumed was her age. She knows of her intelligence. She was eyeing his cards, he noticed, and he nimbly reversed the direction of his shuffling, biting his lip as the cards danced and spun before him. But that doesn’t bar its existence. He could feel her forming hypotheses in her mind, soaking in the details that surrounded her, the way he always did.

Intriguing. Simply intriguing. For once, his intuition was leading him to conclusions that the analytical part of his brain could not prove. And the analytical part of his brain was allowing itself to be pulled along.

“No, I was wondering if you might have,” her eyes didn’t leave the cards as she continued, although it certainly wasn’t out of nervousness. He did anything but intimidate her. “But then, I suppose neither of us would be here if we had, would we?”

”A keen supposition, to be sure.” Kaden smiled politely, curving the deck away from his hands in a graceful arc. ”But I’m sure she’ll turn up. She tends to find situations that happen to necessitate her. It’s something of a talent.”

“Do you always shuffle cards while you read?”

There were very few instances that would prompt an actual laugh from Kaden Allingham-Hemsworth, but this was one of them. He chuckled quietly to himself, the corners of his mouth curling slightly upwards towards the vestige of a smile. ”You could say that.” He spun a Queen of Spades on his right index finger like a soccer ball. ”One might argue that it’s more a matter of reading while I shuffle cards.” Or living while I shuffle cards. But these matters were subjective. To an extent. And wasn’t everything?

“So, what game will it be, then?”

Ah. So she’d be taking up his challenge, then? Fantastic.

He mentally scrolled through his list, selecting a random game. ”Kapaga. One of my personal favorites.” His dealing hand kicked into hyperdrive, shooting seven cards into a perfect fan before her like tiny Frisbees, flicking seven back towards himself, and placing an eighth, the Six of Hearts, in the center of the table. ”And this is our discard pile. Discard any card of identical suit or number. Eights may be discarded on any card, as long as a suit is called. If you can’t discard, draw a card. The objective?” He squared his hand before him, winking graciously and feeling the familiar shivers of excitement wash over him like a wave. If there was one place in the world he belonged, it was a card game. ”To call ‘Kapaga’.” He tapped the discard card with the manicured nail of his index finger.

Perfect.

RULES OF GAME ARE HERE

[EMILIE SIMONE]

He was intriguing, this man. It was something about his eyes, the way they watched in a manner that was nowhere near leering. Dangerously analytical, perhaps, but that she could deal with easily. It didn’t bode even a twinge of discomfort, truth be told. Emilie sat still and straight-backed in her chair, legs crossed delicately at the ankles as she watched the cards dance, somehow transfixed by the way he shuffled them so effortlessly, as though he wasn’t thinking about it at all.

Emilie Simone was not easily impressed. In fact, she was hardly ever satisfied. And yet here Kaden was—and he was a stranger, surely, as they had never spoken a word before this day—pulling her in with an act so simple, so utterly monotonous, that with anyone else it would be nothing short of boring.

Curious, indeed.

Blue eyes flickering to his face as he spoke, Emilie offered her temporary companion a small close-lipped smile. She nodded. “Well, I’m sure you’d know better than I.” It was an infrequent occurrence, her handing out sentences stamped with “You’re right” in big, bolded letters, but this was different. It was no competition and he was no Christian. This was conversation. Conversation without chess, words sans booby traps, land mines, or snares. This, perhaps, was the most curious of it all, as Emilie Simone was not one used to simply speaking without double meanings. One could even call it difficult.

Her brows raised slightly as he twirled the Queen on his finger, and she spoke with the same casual lilt that so often governed her tone, no matter what language she spoke. “Forgive me, but it seems a bit of an odd hobby to have…” She was curious, yes, as Emilie was so often prone to be. But then, she supposed, what hobby wasn’t strange, at least to one other? Surely not everyone enjoyed her songs. But that would hardly stop her from singing, or running her fingers along a piano’s keys.

She brushed the thought aside as he spoke once more, shifting slightly in her seat so as to get a better look at the desk’s surface as he explained. She nodded when he’d finished instructing and drew the cards up in a fan in front of her face, tilted upwards so as to shield them from his view. “And do you call when you have one card left, or none?” she spoke as she scanned her own seven, biting her lip slightly before withdrawing the Three of Hearts and placing it neatly on the discard pile. She waited a moment before drawing her hand away as though waiting to see if she’d chosen the best option—silly, perhaps, as she’d never bring back the card now that he’d seen it, but Emilie was nothing if not a perfectionist. Satisfied, she withdrew her hand and placed it neatly once more in her lap, the fan of cards returning to the desktop in a pristine stack.

She nodded. “Your turn.”