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Post by Oliver Lee Winchester on Mar 4, 2011 13:29:11 GMT -7
Oliver was apparently better in history than he thought. Either that or the history teachers at Riverdale were incredibly desperate. He had a feeling that it was the latter. Either that or someone just wanted to play a cruel joke on him. With life the way it was lately, he wouldn't be all that surprised. He'd been approached by his history teacher shortly after class, asking if he wanted to tutor another student. Oliver had been so caught off guard by this odd request that he'd blurted out a 'yes' before he even knew what he was getting into. He hated when people did that, especially when he had the sneaking suspicion that they did it for the sole purpose of backing him into a corner like that. Only after he agreed was he clued in to what was happening. A few days later, to be exact. He would be tutoring a senior. Oliver was absolutely bewildered when he first heard this. Whose crazy idea was it to have a freshman tutor a senior? That didn't even sound right. Next, he was informed that said senior was an autistic boy who struggled with knowing what to do with the concepts he was learning. Oliver could tell already that this was going to be a challenge, and he was wishing that he hadn't agreed after all. Stupid Cranbolt. He didn't have much against the boy himself - it wasn't his fault that he was the way he was, but he hated being pressured into doing something more than anything else. Nevertheless, he arrived at the room where this tutoring session was to take place a few minutes early, wishing that these sorts of situations didn't attract him like a moth to a porch light. History, of all classes. History, the class that was full of constant reminders of how he didn't quite fit into this world. In an odd way, he almost felt grateful that this session was with an autistic kid, a normal who didn't exactly qualify as normal. It was an unfortunate feeling, one that Oliver knew was wrong, but it was there nonetheless. Oliver strode into the room, taking a seat near the doorway, trying to decide how he was going to go about this. Would he even be able to communicate with the other boy, or would they have issues even in that regard? Perhaps this wouldn't have been so bad if he weren't so ill prepared. Now he wished that he had asked a few more questions about this rather than focusing his attention on fixing his brother's broken car. Oliver began to take books out of his backpack. He didn't even know what he was supposed to be teaching this boy! He hoped that the boy would at least be able to teach him what era and what area of the world he was studying in class, else Oliver would have his work cut out for him. At least he had a few books, courtesy of some siblings. Cindy allowed him to borrow her senior history book, and Wilbur forked over his junior history book. Plus, Oliver had brought his own freshman book. Surely, he was covered in that regard? He would soon see... Word count: 539 To: Dante with Harold Notes: Done now! |
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Post by Harold James Greyson on Mar 4, 2011 22:07:15 GMT -7
This was unfair. And if he could remember the other words for unfair, he'd throw them in too. Harold had done fine in history. Well, he'd done fine where fact regurgitating was involved. He didn't need to study for long for that. But no, Cranbolt insisted on him. All over him. Like a compound fraction, she was all over the place. She was making him go get tutored. It pissed him off. Tutoring hadn't always been a bad experience for Harold. But it had become that way, it had become humiliating and unwanted and just another sign he needed help. The whole point of going to Riverdale was to prove he didn't need help, and here he was.
Making matters worse, there were other things that needed to be thought about. Like if he didn't go, would that have a worse effect on things? Would be be more or less likely to succeed if he didn't go? Or less? Would he get in trouble? Would the person tutoring him be a jerk? What should he say? Could he remember all the niceties he had to say? Whoa, whoa, stop it there. Too many variable - some most people wouldn't never think about consciously, were flying around his head. Including the metaphor of ideas flying, which he wasn't too keen on. Stop. Whoa. Harold shut his eyes in the walkway from the dorm to the school, and collected himself. He had to go at least once. He had to research...right? That was the word, he hoped. He carried his books under one arm and carried on. He looked a bit ragged, a bit awkward and clumsy, aided by the fact he was built like an ox, but not altogether stupid, either. Maybe not the brightest. But not stupid, and with growing anger he concluded that was how someone was going to make him feel in a matter of moments, at 3:15 in room 315. 315 plus 315 was 630. At 6:30, he ought to be back in his dorm. If not before. The last thing he wanted was this to last until six thirty.
Harold did, however, take his time getting there. He walked in, his expression blank, and looked around the all-but empty room. There, not to far from where he stood, was a boy. Not Harold's age and not little. Freshman-aged. His face twisted into a scowl, not so much aimed at the boy but the idea. He didn't know what people meant by doing this to him, but he didn't like it.
The senior loosed his books a bit like one would throw a Frisbee, and they landed solidly on the desk, skidding across it and colliding with the textbooks the boy had on he desk, then plopped into a chair across from him, just because it was the nearest one, not because he wanted to be facing or looking at Oliver. "N-name's Harold." He listed off, sounding totally automatic, not mad as his features might suggest. "You a-are?" He added, after a moment, having forgotten the kids name. Oh well. Right now, he cared less than usual.
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words| 556
tagged| Oliver / Mandee
notes| He's normally not so grumpy. Oliver gets to see his annoyed side. XD Lucky him.
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Post by Oliver Lee Winchester on Mar 4, 2011 23:22:32 GMT -7
Oliver decided to open up his own history book and read from it while he was waiting. He was reminded of the fact that he still had to write up a report on Harriet Quimby. His sister. He had to write a report on his sister. Only at Riverdale. The freshman glanced up at once when he heard something at the front of the room. The first thing he thought was that the boy looked completely normal. Nothing stood out about him. Then again, nothing stood out about most reincarnates when it came to appearance. Appearances could be deceiving, and Oliver knew that all too well. Normal was also a very odd term around Riverdale. Even those that the RSOR regarded as 'normals' were quite often not exactly normal themselves. Then again, was normal a word that could really be used to describe anyone? Normal to RSOR members didn't mean that one was entirely 'normal', only that they were not a reincarnate. Oliver could not resist jumping when the boy tossed his book onto the desk, almost knocking his small stack of books on the floor. "What are you..."[/color] Oliver blurted out, somewhat defensively, before he realized that the other boy was taking a seat. Taking a seat and introducing himself. This was an interesting turn, but Oliver could cope. As awkward as this was, this still wasn't as bad as recruiting Michelangelo, and he could take solace in that. It wasn't that Michelangelo was a bad person either, he was just hard as hell to recruit! "Nice to meet you Harold. I'm Orv...Oliver."[/color] In any other circumstance, he would feel quite foolish for nearly introducing himself as Orville, but given that he'd never met this boy before, and the fact that he seemed uneasy even around a gangly freshman like himself, he wasn't too worried about Harold going around telling anyone that Oliver almost stated his name as Orv. Besides, with Errol, Oliver was getting a lot of good experience when it came to trying to play things off. Oliver closed up his own history book and looked at the book that Harold had thrown on to the table. He didn't want to touch it without permission, so he looked over at Harold with a raised eyebrow. "May I?"[/color] He inquired, his hand hovering over the book as he waited for a reply. In the mean time, it occurred to him that he had something else to ask as well. Something that he figured might be quite important to get out of the way quickly if this tutoring session was to be a success. "What are you studying in your history class? Anything you're having a particularly hard time with?"[/color] It wasn't often that Oliver felt like the more confident one in a conversation, but this was one of those rare times where Oliver could honestly say that he felt that way. That in itself was odd. Word count: 511 To: Dante with Harold Notes: That...came out faster than I expected. 0.o |
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Post by Harold James Greyson on Mar 5, 2011 21:05:07 GMT -7
Harold didn't care very much about most things that went on in the school. He come here with the sole purpose to thrive, and anything else was just...extra. He wanted to live. He really didn't know what half the schools clubs were, let alone of set of letters that didn't make a word and so he wasn't sure how to pronounce, anyways. He just wanted to get this, and high school in general done with so he could go on with his life, free. Unfortunately, it seemed this was not going to he a happy night tonight, and upon setting eyes of the freshman, knew it. This was not going to be a night of stacking or math. It was going to be a bad night. Bad, bad, bad. He didn't respond to the boy's outburst as he threw his books upon the table, and in fact, nothing about him displayed he'd even heard it. In one ear and out the other. He just sat down and said his lines. That was how it was supposed to go, and that was how it was going to be, event settled. Conversations followed set rules, right?
Or seemed to, anyhow, since the boy introduced himself as Oliver. Fine. Oliver. Fine. The fact he'd added in an "Orv" did not bother Harold in the slightest, in fact, he found it somewhat relieving. He nodded to the introduction, a scowl still the prominent feature on his face, then frowned a little at his next words. May he do what now? He didn't answer right away, instead took a moment to look at Oliver - excepting the face. Oh. His hand was over his books. He wanted to touch the book. "Y-Yes." He stammered, voice devoid of emotion. Frankly, just so long as this got over with, the boy - Oliver - could do as he pleased. Oliver then asked him questions about the whole thing, and Harold again took a second to answer.
"S-s-suffragette movement." He said simply. "Elizabeth Stanton. November 12, 1815 to October 26, 1902. Susan B. Anthony, February 15, 1820 to March 13, 1906." Harold leaned back, crossing his arms. There. Facts. He knew them. That wasn't good enough for some, but it was good enough for him. "Doing t-that s-stuff. Do you k-k-know that?" Maybe this boy wouldn't know, and then he could go back to his dorm. But, Harold had a feeling in the back of his mind that Oliver would know about it and this would proceed, even if Harold was giving him precious little to work with.
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words| 485
tagged| Oliver / Mandee
notes| Nupe.
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Post by Oliver Lee Winchester on Mar 5, 2011 22:19:28 GMT -7
While the other boy wasn't saying much, it wasn't too hard to tell by Harold's facial expressions and posture that he wasn't entirely pleased about this either. It figured. Leave it to a teacher to put two people together when neither of them wanted to be there in the first place. First the Valentine's Day thing, now this? Granted, as far as Oliver was concerned, this wasn't anywhere near as bad as Valentine's Day (and Oliver rubbed subconsciously at his hand at the mere thought), it still wasn't one of the brighter ideas the Riverdale staff had. Oliver started to flip through the book. Looked like U.S. history, if he had to guess, though he honestly had no idea where in U.S. history Errol's class might be. Could be pre U.S. history, with Native Americans arriving thousands of years before, or it might be as modern as the 80s or 90s. Oliver had no way of knowing, which was why he was asking Harold for a bit of help in this regard. At least Harold had no problems answering what his class was studying. His eyebrow went up as not only did he answer the question, but also regurgitated a few facts on historical figures from that time. Another reason he raised his eyebrow was the fact that one of the people he listed was, in fact, a student at Riverdale High as well. The reincarnation of Susan B. Anthony, Chelsea Simmons, would likely do a much better job than he would of educating Errol of the suffragette movement. Then he recalled who put him up to this - Cranbolt. Cranbolt wasn't a reincarnate, not to mention she wasn't Chelsea's history teacher either. Oliver recalled that Isa and Chelsea had the same history teacher, a creepy man that struck Isa as oddly familiar. At least Oliver didn't have that guy as a teacher this year, but Cranbolt didn't strike him as much better. "Well, good to know that you know a couple of the facts. That's a good start."[/color] Yes, start. All Harold had given him so far were the births and deaths of two key women in the movement. He had not explained what the movement was about, or even any of the other major dates in the movement. The ratification of the 19th amendment was one huge one. Perhaps Oliver wasn't such a bad choice for this subject after all. While he was nowhere near as educated on the subject as he would be on, say, early aviation, he'd had a sister who was heavily involved in the movement, and took almost every experience she could to get on her soap box about it. Honestly, she was one to talk when it came to her brothers. They were obsessed with flying, true, but she had her own obsessions. "Know a bit about it. Know a couple of people who feel quite opinionated on the matter too."[/color] Oliver stated with a small chuckle, tapping his hand on the table next to Harold's still open book. The major question plaguing Oliver's mind at the moment was how on Earth to go about this in a way that he could get to Harold. "What do you know about the 19th amendment?"[/color] He decided to ask. What would Harold come up with on the subject? Would he simply blurt out the 19th amendment in all it's glory, or would he state its significance? What exactly was he dealing with here? There had to be some reason Cranbolt wanted him here. She was annoying, but she wouldn't set up a tutoring session for no reason. Word count: 622 To: Dante with Harold Notes: I just realized that this Cranbolt lady I created several months ago has taken on a life of her own. An NPC life of her own, mind you, but still. |
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Post by Harold James Greyson on Mar 10, 2011 22:29:12 GMT -7
If being here meant surviving and his ultimate goal, then Harold wanted to be here. However. He didn't know that exactly, right now he was focused on the fact...it really sucked to be here. It would have been tolerable if the tutor had been a grade younger. Better still, his grade. But no. A little kid. Harold liked kids. But this was not fair, fun, or likable in any way. He fixated his stare at the whiteboard beyond Oliver's left shoulder, staring at some notes left behind by the teacher, with a note for the janitorial staff to "PLO". He forgot what it meant. Please or something. People had told him a million times but acronyms like that just didn't stick. Number did. Numbers always stuck, and so without really thinking he'd said off a couple names and the numbers that went with them to this boy.
He heard Oliver talk about a good start. People said that a lot to him. It was as meaningless as "good morning" when everyone was half-asleep. It was like saying "good try" when you lost terribly. A good start, it seemed, was nothing in the long line of things. He propped an elbow on the table and his chin on his palm, his look shifting from anger to disinterest and lack of focus. Or, at least, lack of focus in the task at hand; he was doing doubles inside his head to entertain himself. As such, he didn't process Oliver's comment about opinions. It was voicing those that got hard. How was he supposed to have an opinion on something that happened so long ago? He knew he could have an option on the now and the future, but the past? That was already done. They were all dead (well, for the most part, but of course he had no idea), they all lived their lives. It was good. There. Opinion. The suffragette movement was good, pure and simple. Fair was good, right? Well, dur! Fair had to be good.
The next words, a question about the 19th amendment, almost went the same way as the prior comments - ignored, or marginalized in his brain, but he'd been taught that questions should be answered, so he stopped it just before it flew on out and frowned ever so slightly. "19th am...am...ammendment, r-ratified in 1920, August 18. First drafted b-by Susan B Anthony a-and E-Elizabeth Candy Stanton in 1878." There. He knew about it. Did he know about the politics around it? Heck no. But he knew about it well enough, in his mind. Now of course, there was a sophomore girl who'd beat him over the head for that thought, but to Harold, numbers were good enough.
The question was, would Oliver feel the same way?
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words| 505
tagged| Oliver / Mandee
notes| PLO = Please Leave On (the board)
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Post by Oliver Lee Winchester on Mar 11, 2011 0:27:08 GMT -7
If Oliver had known that Harold thought of him as a little kid, he would likely be annoyed. It was one of Oliver's biggest pet peeves, despite the fact that he was indeed a couple of weeks shy of turning fifteen. He enjoyed his second chance at youth, yes. Being young certainly beat old age and a tired and ragged body. However, it also meant that people had an overwhelming tendency not to take you seriously. Oliver already felt uncomfortable enough with this situation. Finding out that Harold did not enjoy being tutored by him because he was a 'little kid' might just be a bit too much for him. He still wasn't sure if he was the best person for the job. He'd taught before, but he wasn't entirely sure how to translate teaching men how to fly into teaching an autistic kid about history. Both were subjects that Oliver knew vast amounts about, but that was about where the similarities ended. He knew he had to find something to go on, though. The stuttering made Oliver nervous too. He did not realize that Harold had a natural stutter, no matter who he was talking to, and therefore could only assume that Harold was stuttering because of him. That bothered Oliver, who couldn't understand why he was making the other boy stutter so badly. Was he really that uncomfortable around him? The unfortunate truth was that Oliver was uncomfortable himself in this situation, and thus his thoughts automatically jumped to the worst case scenario. At least Oliver could focus on the words that Harold was saying as a distraction. That made everything a lot easier, although Oliver still wasn't entirely sure why he was tutoring this kid. He seemed to know a decent amount about the subject as it was, although if this were a tutoring session about early aviation and all Harold did was recite facts, he might understand why this would be annoying for any teacher who was asking for more than just the regurgitated facts. And most teachers did ask for more. The majority of the tests were usually multiple choice and/or true or false questions with the facts, yes, but most tests that Oliver had taken had at least a couple of questions at the end asking a student to expand upon their knowledge a bit to make a decision, or to state what they would think if they had lived in that time period. The ironic part about Riverdale was that in any given class, there probably would be at least a couple of people sitting there knowing exactly what it was like to live in a different time period. Typically more, as RSOR did comprise of approximately 40% of the students at Riverdale High. "Good. You seem to know a decent amount about the 19th amendment...do you know why it was important?"[/color] Oliver didn't realize that he was likely turning up the heat with this question. He really didn't know what he was getting himself into, truthfully. He was just testing the waters, one question at a time, to see what work he needed to do here. All the while he couldn't help but be a little relieved that Susan B. Anthony herself wasn't in the room at this point in time. If Harold was intimidated and nervous around him, he could only imagine the poor kid's face with Chelsea on her soap box. Kid. Here was Oliver, physically nearly three years younger than this other boy, referring to the other boy as a 'kid' in his mind. He didn't mean to do it, it just...happened. This, mixed with the mental pictures stated prior, caused Oliver to smile a little in amusement. Word count: 626 To: Dante with Harold Notes: I think I kinda went full circle with this post. XD |
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Post by Harold James Greyson on Mar 12, 2011 15:55:31 GMT -7
The whole situation made Harold wonder about life. Not deeply, but he did wonder. See, this was exactly what he wanted to avoid by independence. He was fired of being made a fool of. He was tired of being shouted at, and tried of stuttering - because he hadn't always. It made him wonder if he was doomed, a question he rarely answered. There was no denominator to rationalize in that equation, and such was the same for history. Sometimes there was no simplifying it. Unlike with math, where everything could be changed into something, either expanded or simplified, history was connections that had to be made, but there were not rules. Rules were lifelines, guidelines, what was yes and what was no. If left in a grey box, how does anyone get oriented?
That was the case with history. It was a grey box, with the occasional fact or number in it, that Harold latched onto was was loathe to let go. Why shpuld he? Didn't people want to know what was? Well, that was what was. There was no option, no bias, no meanness, only fair, cold facts. Wouldn't that do?
But not for Oliver, apperently. He went there. He asked why the ammendment was important. The blank expression again agve way to anger. "Told you!" He protested. "Ratified in 1920, August 18. First drafted b-by Susan B Anthony a-and E-Elizabeth Candy Stanton in 1878." He repeated exactly as he'd said before. "I-I-I told you!" Harold had half a mind to take his textbook back from the boy, and so he did, reaching over, taking it, slamming it shut and putting it on the ground under his chair. Goodbye textbook. It was unneeded. Every fact in there was already stowed away, and the rest of the words no longer had meaning or value to him. Twofold more; Harold had thrown them before them and he knew it, so it was at least one less textbook he would be throwing, and he knew it. Lastly, it gave Oliver less ammo, too. No textbook meant he'd have to go from his head (or, Harold grudingly supposed, the other textbooks) but it was the action that counted. Something like that. "Fair is g-g-good. That is it. I-It happened. D-d-done. Good-da...day." Or evening. Or whatever the hell Oliver wanted it to be. This was going to turn into a tug of war, fast, which would make any onlooker wonder what the what Crandbolt was playing at. Not that Harold would rip a person limb from limb, but one still had to wonder.
Perhaps it wasn't wise, but Harold even poked back. "W-what's important a...bout you?" It was a lame poke, and most certainly ironic as Harold was unknowingly talking to Orville Wright.
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words| 536
tagged| Oliver / Mandee
notes| Well ain't that ironic.
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Post by Oliver Lee Winchester on Mar 12, 2011 23:27:39 GMT -7
Oliver could not help but wonder what was going through Harold's mind in the short silence that followed. To pass the time while he waited for Harold to answer, he continued to flip through the textbook, not actually looking at the pages concerning the sufragette movement but rather looking at the pages concerning another time that he was all too familiar with - The early 20th century. When Harold replied with a few facts once more, Oliver realized where his challenge lied. It seemed as though Harold knew some information, but that his knowledge consisted of repeating the same little tidbits of information over and over again. He knew Cranbolt wouldn't be satisfied with that. So he decided to say as much to Harold. He didn't want to be painted out to be the bad guy here, especially when he wasn't here entirely of his free will either. "I know you did, and I know that's true, but Mrs. Cranbolt is going to be looking for more information, and I'm trying to help you with..."[/color] Oliver trailed off as Harold snatched the history book right out of his hand and threw it under his chair. The hand that Oliver had been resting near the book tensed slightly as Oliver shot Harold a glare. This was all too reminiscent of an incident several months before in the library with one Isabella Avadore. It was the surprise that got to Oliver the most. The unfortunate part for Harold was that Oliver didn't really need the textbook for this subject anyway. Sure, it helped, but he didn't exactly need it. Oliver wasn't sure what Harold meant by his next statement, but he couldn't help but add a bit of commentary nonetheless, as he assumed the other boy was talking about history. "Yes, it happened. That doesn't mean that it's done. Things that happened in history can impact the world today. Plus, just because it's in the history books doesn't necessarily mean that it's dead and gone."[/color] Yay subtle reincarnation references? Oliver was trying his best to remain calm with this boy, but it was growing harder. He liked children, but at this point he wasn't rationalizing that Harold had a mind similar to that of a child. He was still picturing Harold with the mind of a seventeen or eighteen year old, which posed a small problem in the communication between the two young men. The final statement of Harold's caused Oliver's eyes to widen slightly. It was a loaded question to anyone in RSOR, though of course Harold wouldn't know that. At any other time, Oliver would have probably shrugged off the comment with no problem. This was not so easy to do when Errol Murdock insisted on calling him Orville every time he saw the freshman. This was not so easy to do when he was already in a defensive mood around Harold, seeing as the boy had already ripped the book out of his hands in an Isa-like fashion. Oliver was on edge, and this statement by Harold only seemed to make things worse. Oliver's eyes narrowed just slightly. "I don't believe that's any of your business."[/color] He stated in a curt tone. Because, of course, Oliver did have his own mention in the history books, though not as Oliver Winchester. Trying to focus on the task at hand once more, lest he lose control and let any more information loose, Oliver let out a drawn out sigh. "Any other subjects you're studying?"[/color] He wasn't sure if he was going to get anywhere with the sufragette movement, so he might as well take a break from the subject if possible. Plus he also wanted off the subject of what was important about him. This seemed like the best of both worlds. Word count: 635 To: Dante with Harold Notes: I meant to just start this tonight, but I finished it. Go figure. XD |
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Post by Harold James Greyson on Mar 17, 2011 18:30:02 GMT -7
There were too many other things for Harold to worry about for him to pay much heed to history. He had to survive high school. He had to know what to do come the end of it. He had to keep going, and history wasn't going to help him with that. He didn't see how the suffragette movement had anything to do with him. He knew it was important, yes, but he just had no need for it right now. So the fact that Oliver seemed to be rebuffing what attempts he made made him grow angry. If Oliver didn't like it, then he could leave. He was just one of Cranbolt's people, wasn't he? He was just another person Cranbolt was sending after him, wasn't he? "All t-the dates. I know them." Harold persisted. "Good enough." He would bet his favorite item, Buddy the bear, Oliver did not know the every date in the textbook. Harold knew he did. If he thought that wasn't good enough, well, too bad. He wasn't going to be using Harold's textbook, and so said senior swiped it away.
To anyone but Harold, the glare that Oliver gave him would have been a simple cause-and-effect, but Harold hadn't thought that out fully. Instead, the glare was unexpected and Harold pushed back a little in the seat, distancing him from Oliver and looked more adamantly at the spot right over his right shoulder as the younger boy spoke about history not being dead and gone. Well, Harold had to admit that was kind of true. It was hard for him to fathom from a history book, but if his history wasn't around, his life would be much better. "Fine." He grumbled. "H-history's not d-d-dead. B-but this h-history is the l-least of my problems. I have my....my own history I-I have to deal with." Harold had no idea how ironic his words were. He wouldn't get it even if it was explained to him. But, while perfectly "normal" from a soullistic point of view, it was true.
The last thing Harold said seemed to have some effect on Oliver. Harold couldn't place quite what, as he was terrible at that and wasn't looking Oliver in the face anyways, but he knew it had. Or maybe, just maybe, one of his comebacks had, for once, hit home with someone. For some reason calling people exponents never really did. What he did know is anger. He did recognise, in the next words, that Oliver was displeased with him. Well, Harold was displeased with Oliver. All was fair. "If th-that is not my b-b-bissiness, then t-this is not yours." He prodded daringly. He was ready for a full on fight of some sort, until Oliver changed the subject, to, well, subjects.
"Algebra." He began. "Physics. C-c-calculus. G-geometry." Now those were subjects he liked to learn about for the sake of learning them. They were so logical, they always made sense, everything must work out as it should. It wasn't like history, history that was dead-but-not.
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words| 584
tagged| Oliver / Mandee
notes| Soulistic. I made up a word. =D
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Post by Oliver Lee Winchester on Mar 17, 2011 22:40:23 GMT -7
Oliver wished that there were some way to make Harold see how frustrating he was making it for Oliver. He wanted Harold to see that this wasn't exactly his first choice for an after school activity either. He couldn't, though, because he knew that he'd probably hear about it from Cranbolt. He also saw it as a challenge, and Oliver wasn't the type to back away from challenges too quickly. No, Oliver didn't know every date in the textbook. Oliver did, though, have something that Harold could never even dream of. While he could not pull date after date off the top of his head, he had a living encyclopedia in the form of his fellow RSOR members. In fact, he had access to dates that Harold would probably never knew about even if he read all of the books in the world. With just a few simple questions, Oliver could likely provide the date when Susan B. Anthony lost her first baby tooth. He most certainly could tell Harold the date when Orville Wright started kindergarten. He could also state the exact time when little Orville's class was to let out every day. He'd always made sure to keep his eye on the clock as that time approached, all so that he made it home in time to look as though he were coming home from school, and not from taking apart a sewing machine at a friend's house. Let Harold try to top that, ha. The freshman was surprised when Harold spoke his longest sentence yet. It provided some insight into the other boy's psyche, and made him realize that perhaps there was a bit more to Harold than met the eye. "Your own history?"[/color] Oliver frowned. While this sounded like something a reincarnate might say as a hint, Oliver had a feeling that it wasn't that, at least when considering the circumstances. He was still going to pry just a tad, though, just to make sure. A part of Oliver wanted to smirk when he saw Harold move away a little at his glare. Another part, however, recognized the more childlike quality of this movement. This part of Oliver took control, and he frowned. Had a simple glare really bothered the other guy that much? Oliver chewed on his lip in thought. Fortunately the awkward silence (well, awkward for Oliver anyway - Harold might have been enjoying it for all Oliver knew) was broken when Harold explained a few other subjects that he was taking. He smiled just a tad. "Mostly math and science courses? Good choice."[/color] Oliver, for obvious reasons, felt quite attracted to such classes as well. He knew that he should be tutoring Harold in history, and Oliver enjoyed the subject of history very much, but talking to Harold about history at this point was like talking to a brick wall. It almost seemed as though everything he said about it would go in one ear and out the other. It was frustrating, but it also meant that Oliver had to find a way to get the information to stick. Speaking to Harold about something that he enjoyed might do just that, though he wasn't sure how to incorporate physics or algebra into an explanation of the suffragette movement. Right now, though? He had a way to communicate with Harold, and he intended to see exactly what he could do with it. He dug into his backpack, opening up a blank notebook (not one of his "secret notebooks", of course - he was learning as time went on). He jotted out a quick sketch and provided a few measurements and details on his picture, as well as an equation. Then he handed the notebook over to Harold, along with the pencil. "I want you to figure out how much force is required to lift this aircraft off the ground, using the given variables. You have three minutes. Go."[/color] Oliver folded his arms across his chest and leaned back with a small smile. While previously doubting Harold, he had faith that Harold would be able to do the task assigned to him. Where the tutoring session would go from there remained to be seen. To Oliver, if this worked, it was overcoming a huge hurdle. It was certainly worth a shot, at least. Word count: 735 To: Dante with Harold Notes: Random tangents within posts are fun? XD |
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Post by Harold James Greyson on Mar 22, 2011 21:00:12 GMT -7
Harold wasn't sure what to make of the silence after he said he knew all the dates, and so he let it go on. Maybe the other boy would shut up now. Maybe he would stop bothering him for information when he found that Harold knew every hard fact in the book. Hell, if you anted the index memorized, just give him a little bit and he'd learn it for you? But "to what extent has the suffragette movement succeeded?" well, that was another story. That was harder for the boy that didn't really understand society. He lived in one world of his own and not a lot of people got really into it, nor did he often get into this one. It was a fate of genetics, and he was stuck with it. "My own history." Harold repeated with a bit more confidence. "A-a-a geometric series." He added, which to him explained it all - it didn't even occur to him that really did make no sense.
The confidence, however brief, was shattered abruptly when Oliver glared, and Harold was back to being Harold, confused, and unhappy and kinda of scared. He didn't know what to say so he said nothing until subjects came up, and lapsed into silence again. He wanted to go away now. He wanted all this to stop, he wanted calm, he wanted something safe. Dark maybe. He was silent as Oliver spoke on, until, of course, the question was asked. When Oliver fist dug into his notebook, Harold was apprehensive and even a bit hostile. The notebook meant he'd be schooled on something. But, as it seemed, the boy had a physics problem for Oliver.
Harold took the notepad, but not the pencil, listening to the instructions. He read over the equation and measurements - those he could easily read, and looked at it for about thirty seconds, because back at Oliver. He was so sure there was even a slight flash of eye contact. "34,000 Newtons." He replied, without a hint of doubt. He was right. He knew he was, he was never wrong in these things, except on daunting word problems, but most of the time, he was never wrong. If he was wrong he just might cry, that's what. "Ha. I am r-r-r-right...right." And if Harold knew better, if Harold was a reincarnation, that may have just been a Wright pun.
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words| 553
tagged| Oliver / Mandee
notes| Wright Pun...sorta.
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Post by Oliver Lee Winchester on Mar 23, 2011 23:36:05 GMT -7
The boy knew the facts, yes. That was all fine and dandy, but Oliver knew some of the people. He also knew that while teachers did want the facts, they also frequently asked their students to put a little extra thought into the matter. That was where the challenge lied, and where Harold was making it difficult for him. Oliver needed to figure out how to communicate this to Harold in a way that he would understand, which was a next to impossible task considering the circumstances. "A geometric series?"[/color] Now there was an explanation that made little to no sense to Oliver. Little because, well, he did know what a geometric series was. He just could not see how a geometric series and a young man's history could mesh. Obviously, this guy leaned heavily toward math in everything he did, but Oliver still struggled to make sense of this statement. One thing Oliver did note was the change in confidence between different subjects that he wad discussing with the other boy. When they discussed math, something that Harold understood, the boy seemed confident enough to even bite back at Oliver. When it came to other subjects, the boy was frustrated and even scared at times. It was hard for Oliver to comprehend, but he was trying his best to work through these problems. He was no therapist, after all - He was an inventor. There was, however, one advantage to this status - His mind was accustomed to solving problems. Sure, this wasn't one of the many mechanical problems he was used to focusing on. Still, it presented a challenge for his mind, and he was going to do the best he could to rise to it. "When you're done with that one I may have more problems for you."[/color] Oliver commented with a grin. Here was something that they could potentially both enjoy. The strange thing was, Oliver felt almost as though he was rewarding a child for a job well done. Harold's mental state was starting to become apparent to Oliver, which would also help with his task. He was nevertheless surprised when Harold responded with a correct answer in less than a minute. Oliver knew the answer, if only because he'd focused on solving the problem as he was writing it out. He was completely and utterly bewildered at how fast this boy had spouted off a correct answer. If Oliver didn't know better - And to be honest, he didn't really know any better at this point - Harold was showing signs of being a potential reincarnate. Oliver had his doubts as to whether Harold really was a reincarnate, but he still figured he should look into it. But how? It was hard enough communicating with this guy as it was. Now he had to try to do an investigation? Why did he always land himself into these messes? The fifteen year old's right eyebrow shot up about an inch. Was that a Wright pun? It sure sounded like one! He'd most certainly heard the two rights in a row trick - Joan had used it while she was recruiting him. A quick mental reminder told Oliver that there was no way that Harold had made this pun intentionally. Unless someone had prodded him to, but he doubted that much. No, it was just a slip of the words. A false positive. Or so he thought. He couldn't help but grin. "You are correct. Want me to give you another one? You're very good at math."[/color] As amused as he was by Wright puns, he found it a little unsettling that someone who didn't even know who he was was throwing unintentional puns his way. Go figure. "How long have you been able to do problems like these?"[/color] Word count: 656 To: Dante with Harold Notes: Wright puns <3 |
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Post by Harold James Greyson on Apr 4, 2011 20:56:26 GMT -7
Harold had no idea how much he was throwing Oliver off, or at least how much he was confusing the boy at times. If he had, he would have been quite proud, but the unintentional aspect to it was what made it so much more disconcerting, really. It probably didn't help that Oliver had no idea how to speak to Harold. Harold, in truth preferred to be spoken to like any normal human being, despite his random outbursts and childish demeanour. He did have a brain, and he did use it. Of course, this did nothing to prevent him to comparing his life to a geometric series. To him it worked, and Harold didn't respond to Oliver's questioning it with anything more than a nod. He just assumed Oliver would know it, if this was the boy who knew everything, and if he didn't, well so sorry. Harold couldn't wholly put it into words anyways. He tried for some people, like Alice. There were some people in this world he did try to reach out to, amazingly enough. Some people in the world that he wanted to find a way to just...know. Somehow make worlds collide, he supposed. Oliver was not among those privileged. It was unlikely he would ever be.
Harold heard Oliver say he might have more problems for him, and he nodded distractedly, already formulating how to solve the first one he'd been given, and doing so in a practically impossible time. Hah. He'd bet his bear Buddy that Oliver couldn't solve it faster. No one he knew could solve it faster than him. In fact, insisting he was right seemed to surprise the boy. Harold didn't look at the eyes but he had noted the eyebrow being raised. It gave him a jolt of confidence. More than just a jolt, it gave him a whole ton of confidence. It was enough to get talking again, and even note tone. Correctly or incorrectly, Harold interpreted said tone was patronising. "M-m-maybe I s-should be giving you t-the problems." He retorted. "I-I'm right, a-after all. Better a-at math." This freshman probably couldn't do such a problem in his head, so to Harold it was justifiable that this should be the other way around. He also gave Oliver a response to the next question.
"For forever." He explained simply. "S-since I was sm..small." As soon as he'd learned the basics, he'd been hungry for more and more and was able to reason a lot of it out. When he'd been forced to go to those tutoring places, he'd often taken the more advanced math sheets on the sly, and the place had catered to any grade level, right up to grade 12. While there were few seniors there, there were still the occasional one, and most often it was math they needed help with. The physics problem was just a variant of the math with a little applied knowledge of numbers to make it work. And if it was done properly, it worked every single time. There were no fancy variants like in social. No weird, illogical problems with variables that did multiple things and influenced constants. Constants were constants in math. Not in the real world.
In the real world, everything was impermanent, right down to life itself, right down to the simplest things. "M-math is much easier t-than r-real life. D-doesn't go away." Harold ventured. Of course, by this he meant that it math didn't go away and become history like the suffragette movement did in his textbook or to him; the principle of 2 + 2 = 4 was around since people started doing math and was still applicable today, unlike said cavemen who probably worked out the theory of addition. But that may not have been what it sounded like, when brushing with one of the weirder results of life's impermanence.
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words| 723
tagged| Oliver / Mandee
notes| Mwahahahahaha!
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Post by Oliver Lee Winchester on Apr 5, 2011 22:28:29 GMT -7
Oliver couldn't believe how ill-prepared for this he was. It wasn't really his fault either. He'd done what he could to prepare for this tutoring session, including grabbing history books assigned to three different grade levels. The problem was that Cranbolt had left him with no idea what to expect. He was just supposed to teach history to some kid he'd never met and hope that it stuck. Now Oliver was stuck between a rock and a hard place, so to speak, and he was trying his hardest not to take his frustrations out on the boy in front of him. It was hard to do with Harold's next statement. Oliver was sure that a hint of a glare must have come through as he gazed at Harold, trying to calm himself before he said anything that he regretted. Yes, the boy was good at math, but Harold's statement seemed like a direct jab at Oliver - the boy who was trying to help him with one of the classes that he was struggling in. Had Oliver known that Harold wasn't here of his own free will either, he likely would have gone to Cranbolt and told her to find someone else. ...well, no he wouldn't. Still, he would be even more displeased than he already was with the woman. "Can you put that math into practice, though?"[/color] Oliver responded before he could stop himself. Sure, Harold could do highly advanced problems in his head. That was admirable, yes. It was something that Oliver couldn't do. Did he really need to rub that in, though? Harold could figure out the force needed to lift a flying machine off the ground, but could he build that flying machine? Oliver highly doubted it. Still, Oliver wasn't entirely pleased with Harold at the moment either. Here Oliver was, trying to communicate praise to Harold, and Harold turned it around and threw it back in Oliver's face. Had he known more, he might have realized that Harold likely had no clue of how his words were affecting him. In some ways, this almost reflected the very reason Oliver was tutoring Harold in the first place. Harold was focusing on the facts. Oliver had unintentionally brought the argument closer to home. By presenting Harold with the physics problem, Oliver had interjected a bit of his own history into this lesson. Thus, things had grown more personal, whether the fifteen year old wanted them to be or not. There was far more to this story than just the numbers, just the facts, just like in Harold's history classes. Oliver did not want to be relegated to just a name in the history books. He did not want to see the same thing of others. Susan B. Anthony was more than just a name as well. So was Elizabeth Cady Stanton. They were far more than just names with birth and death dates. They were people. His struggle was to get Harold to understand that. The other boy's next words caused Oliver's resolve to falter a little. "That's pretty impressive."[/color] Oliver admitted, this time on a more even keel. He wasn't doing this consciously, but the fact remained that he was addressing Harold on a more even level this time, and not so much like a teacher praising a first grader for getting the answer to 1+1 correct. Harold was an immensely confusing person for Oliver, which was odd when one considered just how simple Harold's mind was. Oliver didn't know what prodded him to say what he said next, but it came out anyway. It seemed as though he almost did better when he came up with things on the fly, so he was going to roll with it for now. "I've been making things like this since I was a kid."[/color] Further back than that, in fact, but Oliver couldn't share that, whether this boy understood reincarnation or not. Oliver indicated the drawing he'd included with all of the numbers. He was trying to find some way to relate with Harold, some way to break down that wall that kept getting in the way of success. Good thing he was resilient when he was determined. If he'd simply been annoyed with Harold, he likely would have left the room already. He wasn't, though, and something was making him stay. "Nothing ever really goes away."[/color] Oliver commented vaguely. He was living proof of that statement, as were his fellow RSOR members. They may have 'gone away' in physicality, but their spirits still lingered, albeit in different bodies. Word count: 780 To: Dante with Harold Notes: Here ya go ^^ |
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