Mason Crawford ft. Genevieve Simmone
Gene stripped herself of her jacket, revealing a buxom chest fitted with a moschino ready-to-wear sweater she had purchased a couple weeks ago. The sight of the sweater made her wonder as to how she would continue to shop online if this school was suppose to be a secret. She pushed the thought aside, 'where there is a will, there is a way... she thought cryptically, pulling a golden cigarette case out of her purse and stuffing it as far into the designer jeans as they would fit.
She walked through the halls with the same rigid elegance she would exihibit in her home at Monaco. Gene's ego was affectionately stroked by the oncoming seige of stares the student body emitted in regards to her presence. Gene was aware that many would view her pythons as an unnattractive quality, but she was even more aware of the fact her body would often over shadow their presence. Though, the fear that her python's envoked often gave her more of a rush than those of admiration.
She reached the exterior of the school only to meet eyes with the smoker from before. She pulled out a smoke and silently motioned for a lighter.
"Mason, right?"
Mason looked up from his scribbles, seeing the tall, snake-haired supermodel from earlier. She'd remembered his name, too; he felt oddly visible at this school. Nobody ever remembered his name, and in some ways it was a step out of his comfort zone, but he'd be lying if he said not even a little bit of him enjoyed it. He noticed the cigarette hanging from her plump lips, and her gesture suggested she needed a light. Mason obliged, handing her his cheap Zippo lighter.
"Yeah," he said, quite enamoured by the fierceness of the woman. "That's me." He tried desperately to remember her name, but for the life of him he couldn't. He didn't imagine she would take this kindly... Had she even shared her name earlier on? He was great with names, he figured if she'd revealed it, he'd remember.
"I'm sorry, I uh... I don't think I caught your name earlier." he said apologetically.
She glanced as he handed her his lighter. She flipped open steel lid to be greeted with the familiar scent of butane. Her python's gravitated to the smell, a smell that brought on nostaliga of her home and of the country that was so repulsed with her existance. For most these thoughts would bring a somber saddness, but to Gene it recreated the sobering, addictive taste of the bitterness of reality.
Gene allowed the flame to dance for a few seconds longer than needed before she extinguished it with a promptness. Fierce yellow eyes grabbed hold of the young man's stare as she returned his device. All while maintaining the light smoke at the corner of her bare lips.
Her lips curved to a smile as she recognized the familiar tone of a premptive apology. Pulling the smoke from between her lips, she slowly exhaled a plume of grey smoke, then lowered her hand to display her full face. The pythons all followed the motion of the smoke, twisting and turning to her right side.
"---Mon joli garcon, calm yourself...It's Genevieve." She added a decorative stress on the 's' at her own bizzare bemusement. "--So, where do you come from?" she asked, taking another drag from her smoke.
"--And seemingly more importantly, why did you come?"
Mason was almost entranced by the way Genevieve spoke. Her words were fluid and seductive, flowing from her mouth like honey. Not only that, but did she just call him her pretty boy? She was hypnotising. So much so, in fact, that when she fired a question at him he almost didn't register it. It took him a moment to reply.
"Well, I came here from Berlin," he said finally, pausing a moment. "I've lived there for almost three years. But originally, I'm from England. Dad's German." he said, keeping the information about his lineage brief and blunt. He didn't like to dwell on it, and he figured the less attention he paid it, the less others would, too.
The second question was less expected, but he answered it nonetheless. "Uh, I guess I'm here for the same reason you are." he said, nodding at the impressive serpents that sprouted from the woman's scalp and smiling. "What about you?" he asked, a tone of interest in his voice. "Your accent is just... Magique." he said, emphasising the last word.
She listened intently to his words, his accent was interesting to her ear, every 'i' and 'a' entraced the attention of her snakes. Having lived in the sheltered world she did, she had never heard an English accent in person. Western accents did not interested her, TV and movies had run their novelty into the ground. Mason however still had a charm to it.
When the young man mentioned Berlin it wrung a bell in her head. "--Ah Berlin is close to the Ukraine, no?" She questioned, envisioning a foggy map of Russia and the rest of europe as she asked the question.
The lad seemed quite secretive, resistant to share more information with her. It was not in an aggressive or antisocial fashion, or so she assumed. His last response was not at all what she had expected. She was hoping he would reveal his mutation, not some vague inversion of the question she had originally posed. She ignored his comment on her accent because to Gene, it did not exist. Everyone else had an accent.
"No, you cheeky boy. What got you in?" She repeated, playfully narrowing her eyes at the fellow. He reminded her of a servant she had once had named Nando. Nando had been a mischivious imp of a servant, constantly answering in riddles and hiding bizzare objects throughout her wing of the home. Cheeky, Cheeky Nando...
"--I am here because I can not go outside in Monaco without screams of horror or an attempted assassination. Simple."
Mason's eyes widened at the girl's confession. "That... That really fucking sucks, Genevieve." he said, taking a moment to consider what it might be like living with a physical mutation like hers. "I'm sorry you have to put up with shit like that." He'd never seen someone with a mutation that manifested externally before, and now in the space of a day he'd seen Genevieve and Zach. It made him realise how lucky he was to be able to hide his power... And he did a pretty good job at it, too.
"I'm not here because I was threatened or anything like that," admitted Mason. "Nor was I a threat, really. It just became a pain in the arse to not be able to control shit, you know?" he said, instantly realising that, considering the woman had a head of snakes, Genevieve probably knew.
"Yeah," he said, looking away from the girl and out over the grounds. "You know. I know you know."
"Not really. Monaco is hot and poor." Gene calmly brushed away his sympathetic remarks towards her story. She had lived a privledged life, despite being isolated in a luxurious 'prison' due to her father and nations intolerance. If she really wanted, she could have worn a burqa out but headscarves only came into fashion a couple months ago...
"Call me Gene. Genevieve is too much of...of a mouth full."
"I had to put up with nothing I did not want. If I did, I did not care. Small minded people are as perpetual as sunrise and sunset." She was perplexed by the sentiment of sorrow that his tone carried. Prehaps if she had come from a more impoverished family she could empathize better with this emotion. Though, she did not and could not. Money was incredibly persuasive, if not that then controlling.
The rest of Mason's words certainly resonated on some level with the medusa. "--I would rather manipulate than control; To manipulate you have an understanding. To control you simply need force." She mumbled, taking another swift drag of her cigarette. She glanced down at his sketch book, her poor vision blurring whatever image he was sketching.
Aesthetic was everything to her, the fine arts were something she held close. Whether it was for it's expressive purpose or its decorative.
"What is it that you draw?" Gene mumbled, changing the conversation.
Mason glanced down at the single torn page, crammed full of his notes and doodles. "It's nothing specific, really," he said. It sounded like an attempt at modesty, but it was the truth. There were so many ideas manifested upon the paper that it would have been difficult to properly articulate. "Just ideas, you know?" he said, feeling a little sheepish. "They tend to all come at once, and I just kinda have to purge them out somewhere so I don't forget them."
"I guess it's a more...health responsible purging...." She murmured, moving closer to the journal to take in the mosaic of designs that lay across the egg-shell pages. She was close enough to Mason that the breathing of her pythons caused his hair to dance ever-so-lightly. Gene was interested in the chaotic designs that painted the page. Her own hobbie was one of percision and accuracy but she could empathize with the expressive aspect of the outlet. She took a long drag of her smoke; admiring the images. "I like it. Grungy."
The hairs on Mason's neck stood to attention as the woman leaned close to him, he could feel each individual breath of the snakes upon his skin. "Uh, thanks," he said, assuming she was just being polite. He wasn't really interested in complements on ideas alone; once he'd turned the good ones into art, then he'd take notice.
Gene abruptly stood up, nonchalantly painting the top of one of her python's head; "--It's been nice meeting you. Hope to engage with you later." She nodded, turning her attention to cooing her pets as she leisurely walked away; still puffing lighty on the half finished cigarette.
Mason watched as the girl rose and gracefully departed. It had all happened a bit suddenly... He hoped he hadn't offended her. Though, something about the woman told Mason she wasn't easily offended. He stood up and headed back inside the academy, tucking his sheet of scribbles into his pocket as he made his way towards the dormitories.
