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Post by Benjamin Grant Carrington on Jan 15, 2013 19:42:35 GMT -8
s h o u ld i g i v e u p o r s h o u l d i just keep chasing pavements even though it
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i53.photobucket.com/albums/g79/Juliart/background_black.jpg');,true][cs=2] L E A D S T O N O W H E R E | [atrb=width,240] One thing that people tended to notice about Benjamin right off the bat is that he was....well, different. It wasn't that he came across as a freak or anything of that nature but he'd never really fit in anywhere - even as a kid. Of course, the fact that he had been forced to witness the double murder/suicide of his entire family probably didn't help but he'd managed to survive. Or at least survive as best he could, anyways. Like every other person in the world with such a traumatic past, it had taken him time to find an outlet of some kind. Luckily, his had come in a form that was 100% healthy instead of turning to drugs or self-harm like other's he'd witnessed while in the system as a child/preteen. No, his was escaping from the horror that reality had become for him into the world of a good book where anything was possible if you believed hard enough. Obviously, he knew that such things which existed in such alternate realities rarely happened in real life but that was what made him dive even further into the pages of whatever novel he happened to get his hands on.
What came as even more of a surprise was that the psychologists he'd spoken too as a child seemed to think something was even wrong with him. Unlike 'normal' children whose minds tend to jump from one activity to another, Ben's only ever remained on reading. There were times that his foster parents had even been forced to remind him to eat as he probably would have forgotten courtesy of whatever novel had managed to steal him away into it's pages and plot lines. It was with his head buried in one book or another that he flew through his childhood, however, drinking in facts and other information most people would consider completely useless though he found them intriguing. That isn't to say that he didn't know what was going on around him at any given time but the truth was more that he just really didn't care. Books had become his life - an escape whose company he'd come to crave almost to the point of addiction. Though he'd never admit it, the worlds authors create with their minds had grown to be more than a mere escape for him. They were a crutch he truly needed to deal with life in general.
It was this reason more than any other that had caused him to seek out a job where he could be around them constantly. As a result, his choices for employment had been rather limited to the Mystic Falls library or the bookstore and so he'd ended up securing a position at the latter not two weeks after having moved into town. At least it's close, he thought to himself as he pushed a cart full of new arrivals around the small shop, pausing only to fit each novel into its proper place on various shelves. After all, there's no point in wasting the gas to drive when I can walk. With a steady pace he worked, pulling the oldest novels off each shelf only to replace them with the newer books that were more likely to sell and not a full hour had passed before his cart was empty once more. Only after he returned it to its place in the back of the store did he catch the faint jingling which meant that someone had decided to drop by. Unfortunately, his shift partner who usually handled the 'people part' of his job had called in sick which meant he was left covering that as well. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he returned to the main area of the bookstore with a rather shaky and obviously uncomfortable smile. "Welcome to Brick Road Books. How can I be of service to you?" | [atrb=width,100] words ,
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notes , Feel free to jump in, I don't bite xD
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Post by Lysander Davenport on Jan 17, 2013 15:23:15 GMT -8
Lysander had decided that he did not like America. It was too different than what he was used to in France. Apparently all the years of school that had been spent on teaching him English had in reality, taught him nothing. He still could hardly understand what people were saying, they were five sentences ahead when he had mentally translated only one into French. Although he did not talk much, it was a rather frustrating development in his move from Paris to some miniscule town that no one cared about at all. He didn’t like being a foreigner, not one bit. If Paris had held somewhere for him to live he would have gone back on the first flight he could find. Since his family wanted nothing to do with him, he was stuck here for the time being.
Using the time that he spent being restless to an advantage, Lysander found himself wandering through the town on foot during the day. He had known Paris like the back of his hand. That was a result of all those nights that he had spent trying to stay away from his abusive home. Mystic Falls was smaller than Paris, and of course, quieter. While with age Lysander had grown quiet, he didn't like the echoing silences of this town. It was too much quiet and not enough rapid French for him.
The language was harsh and ugly and he had not met people who changed his opinion to think the place was anything but boring. Deep down Sander was home sick for a family that had treated him incorrectly for a genetic result that he had not been able to control. His powers as a warlock had begun to ferment in him the way a rich wine would ferment.
The only thing he could do for the time being was attempt to learn the language better than he already had and maybe find some way to make Mystic Falls a little more like Paris.He was not going to be leaving any time soon.
On his walks he had passed a comfy looking bookstore,Brick Road Books, and had been contemplating seeing if there was anything there that would fit his needs of fitting into society.
The bell set up to ring when the glass doors opened twinkled underneath Lysander when he entered the room, stock full of books and with no sign of any employees. He would have comfortable with setting out to find the book on his own but that was when an employee who looked just as uncomfortable as Lysander appeared from in between the shelves.
"Bonjour. Je..." Lysander winced, remembering where he was.
He had slipped into the language he was comfortable with, forgetting that no one would understand him here.
"I apologize. I was looking for a French to English book, if you have one." Lysander had a pretty good grasp of the language, but he was beginning to notice that school hadn't taught him everything. Like how to apologize in a non formal manner, or carry on an actual conversation without sounding like he had grown up fifty decades ago.
tagged . Benny words . 523 notes . first post with sander!
credit . this lovely template was made by Arro from Caution 2.0. and features lyrics belonging to the oh so amazing William Beckett. please leave all of this credit stuff in tact and leave a link for Miss Roro here if you are going to be using this anywhere.
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Post by Benjamin Grant Carrington on Jan 21, 2013 14:57:41 GMT -8
s h o u ld i g i v e u p o r s h o u l d i just keep chasing pavements even though it
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i53.photobucket.com/albums/g79/Juliart/background_black.jpg');,true][cs=2] L E A D S T O N O W H E R E | [atrb=width,240] Having already experienced first hand the full extent of what horrors the world could through one's way as nothing more than a child, it wasn't hard to understand why Benjamin chose to stay as far away as was humanly possible from other people. After all, it wasn't exactly usual to see a huge wolf attack and murder your mother and twin before transforming back into someone that you trusted with your own life and watching them then end their own life after realizing what they'd done. The fact that it had been his own father who he'd idolized back then certainly didn't help either and it didn't even take him speaking for the psychologists to realize his emotional state had been damaged to a point most would consider to be 'beyond repair'. It wasn't that he was necessarily antisocial - though many who passed him on the street or saw him moving silently through the rows of bookshelves at work would probably assume that to be the case - but witnessing such things had caused him to lose all trust in the human race; especially complete strangers who he knows nothing about.
It's better to be safe than sorry anyways, he thought to himself as he pushed the cart into the back area of the bookstore which was off limits to all except for the shop's employees. At least, that's what I've come to learn. If I don't let myself get close to anyone then there's no way they can do me any kind of real harm. It might not be the healthiest way to go about living life but, for me, it's the safest and that's what matters. Torn from his thoughts as the bell above the door which had been designed to go off if anyone came inside echoed through throughout the store, Ben shuddered at the mere thought of having to directly converse with customers. "This wasn't part of the job description I was hired for," he muttered to himself, knowing that he had to offer help even if he didn't want to. "Why did Talia have to call in sick today of all days? We haven't had a single customer all week and the one day she isn't here, we get one. Please, just let the interaction between us remain short and sweet."
Of course, the last thing that Benjamin had expected was for the customer that he had no interest in dealing with to actually be quite attractive. Though he'd never even had so much as a single relationship in the twenty-five years that he'd been alive, the sole remaining Carrington was by no means stupid. He didn't have to sleep with someone to know that they were attractive and he'd realized at about fifteen that he was different from most guys in the way that he found both sexes attractive instead of just the opposite one. Honestly though, it did nothing but make the idea of conversation just that much more awkward. He raised an eyebrow in surprise when what slipped from the other man's lips wasn't English, however, but properly accented French that he easily determined as definitely being his native tongue. His suspicions were only confirmed when he switched to English only to request a French to English translation guide. Maybe this won't be quite so bad after all. I mean, the poor guy looks as horribly uncomfortable as I feel right now and that's saying something.
Having never had the opportunity to actually test out the only language he was completely self taught in, Ben figured that there couldn't really be a better time to try than now. After all, not only would he be attempting to converse solely in French with someone who was obviously raised in the tongue but one thing he always liked to do was help others to feel more comfortable as it in turn helped him to relax so he pulled to the forefront of his mind everything he'd read and studied about speaking the language before taking a deep breath to calm his nerves and opening his mouth to speak. "Préférez-vous parler en français?" he asked surprisingly easily, the months spent practicing in his room finally paying off. "Je suis complètement autodidacte, cependant, donc s'il vous plaît pardonnez ce que les erreurs grammaticales que je pourrais avoir. Pourtant, je ne peux faire de mon mieux si elle vous rend plus confortable." Offering what he hoped was a friendly smile, Benjamin shifted from one foot to the other nervously as he waited silently for a response. | [atrb=width,100] words ,
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notes , Google Translate just became my best friend for this thread. xD
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Post by Lysander Davenport on Feb 5, 2013 16:04:55 GMT -8
Lysander wasn't fond of America for several reasons. The first being that despite the fact that he had been out casted from his family long ago but he still longed for the streets of Paris. He was homesick. There was a language that he had been trained in but still didn't fully understand, there were people that were too harsh and course for him. At least in Paris he could somehow blend in with the language, but here he couldn't because of his accent. Maybe he could at least figure out the parts of the language that he didn't quite understand by finding a book or something to help him. Hence the book store, but he could not be more upset with the idea of having to learn another language because the modern day American society was far too stupid to learn another language and acknowledge the other cultures surrounding them. Sander had at least attempted to learn English, even if that had been his worst grade in school and it was not helping him a fraction since he had moved to Mystic Falls.
His grandmother hadn't helped with assimilating to the culture here either. She spoke in a mix of French and Greek that Lysander had a hard time understanding, but she at least shared his culture and his views. It didn't help that while his traits as a warlock had to be smothered it also seemed that his orientation was something to be smothered, while France had been rather accepting of that trait. At least, it had been accepted outside of his home and now, accompanied with the French accent and the Greek heritage, he felt like even more an outsider than he had already been in France.
Uncomfortably, Lysander reached over to play with the strings of his long overcoat. He hadn't expected things to be so different from Europe to America, but there was a surprising amount of details that he couldn't overlook. Perhaps he was just spiteful over the fact that he was no longer considered a Davenport. His sister had been able to suppress her powers, but Lysander and his grandmother had been out casted as a result of the talent that ran through their veins, even if it wasn't something that could easily be controlled. He just hoped that he didn't end up like her, frail, old and utterly alone besides her cats.
Sander glanced up at the sound of footsteps approaching and proceeded to further embarrass himself by accidentally speaking in the language that he had spoken in for over twenty years now. The blunder was quickly forgotten, when the tall book shop keeper responded to him in accented, but near perfect French. Lysander was suddenly comforted by the wayward thought that perhaps he had found someone who could understand him, only if in matter of the tongues that they spoke.
"Oui, je viens d'emménager ici en Paris il ya deux semaines," (Yes, I just moved here from Paris two weeks ago) Lysander responded in surprise. The man working here had not at first seemed to be someone who would speak rather beautiful French.
Although he didn't realize it at the moment, he might start spending more time with the unnamed bookseller.
"Si il est assez facile pour vous, je vous serais reconnaissant. Je suis désolé, je n'étais pas un bon élève en anglais," (If it is easy enough for you, I would appericate it. I wasn't a very good student in English.)He said with a grin, before adding,"My name is Lysander, by the way. Enchante." (delighted)
tagged . Benny words . 566 without translations notes . I tacked in the translations for you, aren't I a lovely person? credit . this lovely template was made by Arro from Caution 2.0. and features lyrics belonging to the oh so amazing William Beckett. please leave all of this credit stuff in tact and leave a link for Miss Roro here if you are going to be using this anywhere.
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Post by Benjamin Grant Carrington on Feb 6, 2013 13:53:59 GMT -8
s h o u ld i g i v e u p o r s h o u l d i just keep chasing pavements even though it
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i53.photobucket.com/albums/g79/Juliart/background_black.jpg');,true][cs=2] L E A D S T O N O W H E R E | [atrb=width,240] Even with his higher intelligence level, Benjamin couldn't seem to figure out exactly how people worked. Their minds, that is. Having taken advanced anatomy and physiology in high school, he knew all too well how the body of a human being functioned but the way that their thought processes and personalities came into play had never failed to baffle him more than anything else. No matter how many psychology books he read or how often he simply sat back and watched those around him interact (inconspicuously, of course), he still didn't quite understand. Perhaps that was why he'd never had many friends or personal interactions himself. The shrinks he'd seen when he was younger had labeled him antisocial but he knew that they were wrong. He'd read enough over the years to know that antisocial beings by nature were more likely to hurt people because of one reason or another and that's the last thing he'd ever do. Honestly, it wasn't that he had a problem with other people, he simply preferred to be left alone. Was that really too much to ask?
Evidently, he thought to himself as he caught the jingling of the bell from the front of the store. Is it not possible for me to have a single day of peace and quiet? I mean, Talia doesn't seem to know the definition of the word silence and, judging by the amount of talking she does, it would probably kill her to stop for more than a minute or two. Then again, I've never had the best of luck so why would I hit a streak now? Releasing a sigh, he headed out front to deal with whoever had come in the store. Surprisingly though, he was immediately intrigued with the man before him for two reasons. The first, his obvious French accent coupled with the fact that he accidentally began speaking in the foreign language, was easily the more interesting thing but his good looks didn't hurt any either. It seemed that maybe something beyond his control was looking out for him after all though, seeing as the only language he was self-taught in just so happened to be the one his customer was raised speaking. Still, he'd never been one to hold any real value in mere coincidences.
Benjamin didn't bother holding back his look of utter and complete surprise when the male before him admitted to having just moved to the United States from Paris, however, and that actually did nothing but pique his interest a little more. French had always been such a beautiful language in his mind. It was actually that more than anything which had made him choose to learn it instead of the countless others he could have taught himself instead. "Vraiment?" (Really?) he inquired in response, perhaps with a little more interest than was required. "C'est incroyable. J'ai toujours voulu visiter Paris moi-même parce que j'ai entendu dire que c'est très beau, mais je n'ai pas pu encore." (That's incredible. I always wanted to visit Paris myself because I heard it is very beautiful, but I have not been able to yet.) Unable to hold back a small smile of his own when Lysander chose to explain the reason behind his preference to speak French, Ben chuckled quietly. "Ce n'est pas un problème, je vous le promets. Je suis Benjamin, mais je préfère Ben, et le plaisir est pour moi." (It's not a problem, I promise you. I'm Benjamin, though I prefer Ben, and the pleasure is all mine.)
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notes , Yes, you are. I did the same to make life easier for you. <3
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Post by Lysander Davenport on Mar 14, 2013 16:00:17 GMT -8
Lysander did not mesh well with the idea of French stereotypes. It was another reason that he constantly felt out of place. That and he had never been allowed to be who he truly was under the rule of thumb of a family who refused to accept their magic. He'd been training his magic with his grandmother. It felt odd though, to walk into her house full of occult objects and candles and not have to hide the signs of power that came with the Davenport bloodline. Although, technically speaking he was no longer a part of the Davenport family for a crime that was out of his hands now.
There was only one problem of his that he could solve though. Learning the language of the country that would have to be his home from now on. Losing his accent would be a tough one, but it might make him feel more at home instead of being an oddity in this place. He had thought America was supposed to be the home of the free and the place where most immigrants went. Lysander could see now that in this town he was still vastly outnumbered by those who were not like him.
He had to say he was quite relieved that Benjamin spoke impeccable French. His English was rather good, but it had been one of the classes he had started skipping to go practice his witchcraft shortly before he had been disowned. The chances of finding someone in a little town named Mystic Falls who spoke such great French had been cosmic, but he had happened upon him anyway. Lysander was smiling his first genuine smile in a long time. It was funny how something so small could be so pleasing to someone who had been depressed for so long.
" Ouais, je suis un peu nostalgique." (Yeah, I'm a little homesick) Lysander said.
He had decided to omit his living details in an attempt to make sure that he didn't have to explain why he had moved away from his motherland to a country he hated. He was also embrassed of his current state, no longer a member of the Davenport family because of his magical gift. That did remind him though that he was going to have to try and find a community of witches here, if they existed. Some research would have to be done.
" Il est très beau,"(It is very beautiful) Ly agreed wholeheartedly.
" Ravi de vous rencontrer, Ben."(It's nice to meet you)
Lysander shifted his weight from foot to foot. It was not often that he was nervous, but he had to say he was hopeful that he had found a friend in this humble bookshop keeper. Of course, he had found out the hard way why his father had tried to ostrazie him from the magical community and there was always the chance that Benjamin would find out his secret and avoid him because of it. Ly was beginning to think that he might as well pretend to be normal since it had already ruined his life once before. He was starting a new life here in America, he could not let it be ruined again.
tagged . Benny words . 524 without translations notes . yeah, thank god, most of this thread is in french credit . this lovely template was made by Arro from Caution 2.0. and features lyrics belonging to the oh so amazing William Beckett. please leave all of this credit stuff in tact and leave a link for Miss Roro here if you are going to be using this anywhere.
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