We're Living History [Dante/Harold]

[Harold James Greyson]

Harold typically wasn't a fighter, but with Olivers next words, his strengths were attacked. He knew he didn't have a lot of them. Fighting back wasn't something he was good at, but dammit, he was going to try. The whole tutoring thing set him in that mood anyways. "Yes." He said in response to the question. Hadn't he, after all, just said his own history was a geometric series? This boy was quickly shaping out to be an exponent, he was. Blah. Furthermore, if that wasn't enough, there was always poker. If done in one's head -if done mentally and mentally only, card counting wasn't cheating. Harold could do that ever since he learned how to play, and how much of what was in a deck. It was all probability. It all played right. That was an application. Of course...probability seemed to be completely rewritten in Riverdale and unique in the history of the world...literally.

Harold had been so fixated on the jab, and jabbing back, he hadn't even noticed the glare until he thought back, and realized that maybe he was pissing off the boy...but emotions were fickle and funny and Harold wasn't sure if that was what the glare was supposed to be. He wasn't sure what to make of this entire exchange. Harold kept jabbing but he was unable to notice that Oliver's resolve, at times, did falter. As far as Harold knew, Oliver wasn't really responding to the fight at all. But what it did do was keep the subject off history class and on something that Harold could stand on even, if not higher ground on. That was what he wanted. If they killed enough time Cranbolt would come and dismiss them, sight and shake her head like she always did, an Harold would be free to his legos, while Oliver would be free to do...whatever Olivers did in their spare time; he didn't really care.

The senior did not respond to the complement, but he did respond to Oliver's next words. "Oh." He said, looking over the drawing. So Oliver was an artist? "Y-you draw. I-I see. Thank you." Harold frowned right after this came out, mentally kicking himself not on the misinterpretation of Oliver's words, but the jumbled way his own came out. "No, no, n-no. Not r-right. Y-you draw. I see. T...no." Thank you wasn't the right word here, was it? Neither was it's opposite, please. He was supposed to say something else. Something descriptive, right? Like red, only not red because Errol did that and Errol was quite terrifying to him. "Yes. I s-s-see. Splendid?" There. It was splendid that Oliver drew. That worked, right?

"S-some things go away." Harold then added matter of factly - so matter of factly his acquired stutter moved aside a little bit. "People die."

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words| 557
tagged| Oliver / Mandee
notes| So short compared to the last one. T_T

[Oliver Lee Winchester]

The boy didn't answer with much. It could hardly be considered fighting back. This was probably a good thing, however, as it allowed Oliver the chance to collect his thoughts and try to talk calmly with Harold once more. He did wonder how exactly Harold put his math knowledge into play, but decided not to ask.

Oliver opened his mouth to correct Harold when the other boy concluded incorrectly that Oliver drew in his spare time, but his words were caught in his throat as he realized that Harold was having a hard time with his own words. The fifteen year old frowned as Harold continued to struggle with his words, wishing that he could help Harold out but not knowing what Harold was trying to say. This was a little frustrating, though he smiled when Harold actually managed to get something out. He'd actually found himself rooting for Harold for a short time.

Harold was complimenting him. He wasn't sure if Harold meant to or not, but Harold was actually complimenting him. This was a step in a positive direction. "Thank you. I also build things..."[/color] He decided to gently correct Harold, rather than just blurting out that that was what he'd meant in the first place. After the display that Oliver had just watched, he didn't really want to see Harold's temporary victory fall to the wayside. He found himself wondering if building something for Harold might help to get his point across that he wasn't out to get Harold, but Oliver wasn't quite sure what to do. They kept touching on history, but every time they touched the subject they would go off in another direction. In some ways Oliver enjoyed this, as it was a smack in the face to Cranbolt. Clearly, he still wasn't too pleased about the way she cornered him into this. He didn't much like being cornered into anything. However, his personality when it came to those he didn't know on a personal basis made it next to impossible for him to protest.

If Harold had been more observant (or, rather, understood his observations better), he might have noticed that Oliver went a few shades paler at the next statement. Oh how close the subject was getting to reincarnation! The way Harold stated it, though, told Oliver that Harold was most likely not a reincarnate himself. He wouldn't be talking so matter-of-factly if he was, whether he could understand the concepts with his mind the way it was or not. Death was not all there was, and Oliver and several of his schoolmates knew this for a fact. Oh, it was sorely tempting for Oliver to correct Harold, to tell him that he was oh so wrong, but he couldn't. Instead, he tried to gloss over the subject altogether.

"Anything else you're studying in history?"[/color] Oliver questioned, absentmindedly flipping through his notebook. As he did, he happened to pass up another sketch with his real name depicted on the side in a corner. He didn't particularly want to go back to the subject of history, knowing that Harold didn't want to, but he knew that he at least had to try. That way, he could report back to Cranbolt that he'd done what he could. He looked back to Harold, still waiting for an answer.

Word count: 563
To: Dante with Harold
Notes: I, um...like to make things awkward for Oliver. What can I say? >]

[Harold James Greyson]

Just keep going on. Just keep going. That was all Harold was going to try and do. He was going to try. He hated it, he didn't want to try, and he probably wouldn't, at the end of the day. But the farther the subject deviated from tutoring, the quicker he recovered and his mind cleared. Emotions were just very powerful things to Harold. They were like the weather. Good, bad, unpredictable, hard to control - it was only possible to shelter from them, deal with them, and sometimes just ignore the rain and keep going on in his head.

Harold nodded when Oliver also said he built things. That sounded like fun, but no one liked it when he got near saws and things. He couldn't think why. He wasn't stupid. He wanted to try but people generally just looked from him to a power tool and said no. It was infuriating that he wasn't even given a chance to prove himself. Stupider people could touch the welding equipment, why couldn't he?! He didn't think he was going to get himself on fire any time soon. Like seriously. He wasn't retarded. Just...different.

Just different. That wasn't so bad. Harold didn't mind being different, except when he was too different and then it bugged him. That happened a lot. But there was nothing wrong with different. Alice was different, and nothing was wrong with her. Except...her legs didn't work. Errol was different. And nothing was wrong with him. Only he was scary and loud. Well...he tried? Different was always supposed to be okay, so why not him? Harold looked up from the table just at the perfect moment to see Oliver go pale, and he frowned. His thoughts of different had already overcome his thoughts on death, but on Oliver's paling, he remembered it. Did this upset him? Upset people cried. Scared people went pale, and sick people turned green. So Oliver, by this motion, must be pale - no, scared.

"Death i-is o-okay." Harold was scared, too. In a way. But...that was just how it was. "Pe...People still remember." He really had no idea that this could be said by any reincarnation in one of the many times death became the subject matter. And death was a lot, really. People always wondered what it was like to die, whether they had died once or not. Maybe Harold was a mathematician of old, maybe he was Newton under a lot. In reality...he was just Harold.

He watched the pages flicker by as Oliver went through his notebook, page after page as he said something, but the only word that went through was "history". And the only words he read was "Orville Wright". "A-August 19, 1871 t-to January 30, 1948. A-aged 76. D-died due to heart failure." He recited, not knowing who he just said this too.

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words| 535
tagged| Oliver / Mandee
notes| Bwahaha

[Oliver Lee Winchester]

Fortunately, Oliver's gentle attempt at correcting Harold seemed to have no ill effects. That was what the freshman was hoping for. In fact, Harold simply nodded, and while Oliver wanted to ask what was going on in his head, Oliver wasn't sure that he would get an answer that he understood. Nevertheless, he thought he would try - Simply to make conversation. Nothing more, nothing less. "What are you thinking about?"[/color] Worse came to worse, it would just be another math reference, Oliver figured.

To Harold's statements about death, Oliver merely smiled and nodded. Saying or doing much of anything else ran the risk of hinting at the fact that he knew from experience what death was like, and how people would 'still remember' - He was in the history books, after all, as his fellow RSOR-ians. The fact that Harold was reaching out, and that he was trying to rationalize this in itself made Oliver smile. It was another sign of progress as far as he was concerned. As awkward as this was, Oliver was really starting to not mind Harold so much. He just took...a little getting used to. Well, okay, a lot of getting used to!

There wasn't much that could prepare Oliver for the most bizarre twist in this conversation yet.

He should have expected more birth and death dates. To some extent, he did. This was how Harold had started his segway into the sufragette movement, after all. He just wasn't expecting that birth date or that death date. August 19, 1871 and January 30, 1948. His prior birth and death date. And when Harold mentioned heart failure, Oliver's right hand drifted to his chest as though guided by an invisible force. It certainly did not look as though Oliver had any conscious awareness of what his limbs were doing at this point in time. His other hand still hovered over the page of the notebook before him, seemingly frozen as he stared down at the pages, his facial expression somewhere between contemplative and troubled.

Oliver was not prepared for this. He'd never had his death brought up so blatantly, even by those in RSOR (where death was a subject that came up often, owing to the fact that one had to have died in the past to enter the ranks). It was unsettling, to say the least, and brought memories to the surface that Oliver preferred to keep buried. Why would he want to recall that squeezing pain in his chest as his heart signaled twice within three months that it was ready to give out? He was fifteen years old, in a new life, in a new body. There were plenty of things he enjoyed about his old life, that he enjoyed remembering and even reliving, but not that.

If Harold thought Oliver was pale before, he'd likely notice that Oliver looked positively tan before, when compared to how he looked at this point in time. Realizing that this pregnant pause was probably not doing any wonders, Oliver realized that he needed to respond with something, anything, to make this look less odd - and so respond he did. "So...you're studying the Wright brothers?"[/color] Why else would Harold have blurted out those dates? Another possibility had passed through his mind, but he was trying his hardest not to focus on that particular idea. There had to be some sort of stimulus for Harold naming off that birth and death date out of seemingly nowhere, and Oliver just hoped that he wasn't that stimulus. Finally realizing that he was clutching at his chest, Oliver moved his hand away, looking down at his notebook (ironically the cause of all of this, though Oliver remained unaware), then looking back at Harold. Oh yes, he definitely wanted the answer to this one.

Word count: 649
To: Dante with Harold
Notes: XDDDDD

[Harold James Greyson]

When Oliver asked what Harold was thinking about, Harold just shook his head and shrugged, like it was nothing worth mentioning. Because really, it was too big a process for too much irrevlevant material. The lengthy process of getting it from his head to his mouth, or at least, not second-guessing how it was going to sound and just winging it would take too long for too little. Half of his problem was just fear of screwing up something massive, after all.

One of the things he never second-guess, though, was dates and numbers. He was sure he was correct when he said the dates, so Oliver's reaction had nothing to do with that; and quite frankly even Harold knew cluthcing one's chest had very little to do with wrong answers. But why would Oliver respond like that? That was just off. That seemed almost like he was going to be ill, what with how plae he was. A shadow of conceren crossed the older boy's face. "A-Are you all right?" He asked Oliver. How could some dates, dates from so long ago, have such an effect? It wasn't like Oliver was affected by the death of Orville Wright.

At least, according to the conventional laws of the universe.

"Not..not gonna die, r-right?" Harold asked, but there was a different tone to his voice, something almost teasing. It wasn't serious asking...it was playing around a little. It was far from the topic that Harold was currently hating on, so he was okay with Oliver for no, so long as the topic of social studies didn't wholly come up. A joke on dying was not social stuides, nor was one, isolated date to him. It was studying that was it, and sure enough, Oliver brought it up. Dammn him, bringing up studying.

Harold scowled a little, then shook his head yet again. "No." He grumbled. "Saw i-it s-s-somehwere once" He didn't know much about the Wright brothers. They invented the plane and he knew thier birth and death dates, and the means. And that was it. "T-that's all. No s-studying. I hate studying. N-no point w-when I'll f-fail the essay a-anyhow. May a-as well do math." In some regards, with this situation, how he got to grade 12 was boggling, but Harold was capable of pulling off the bare bones when he had to, and his math makrs brought up the avaerage. All he wnated was to get his diploma and do omething he liked doing, not taking tests.

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words| 475
tagged| Oliver / Mandee
notes| Cruddy post. >_<

[Oliver Lee Winchester]

Oliver expected some sort of response, so when Harold simply gave him a shrug, Oliver wasn't sure what to make of it. He might have inquired more if the subject hadn't changed before Oliver could fully make sense of the fact that Harold was blowing off the question.

While Oliver was recovering from the initial shock, he still looked a tad shaken. Even Harold seemed to notice that Oliver didn't look so good, as the senior asked if Oliver was okay. "Y-Yeah, I'm fine. Just...got a bit distracted, that's all. No big deal."[/color] Reliving his own death wasn't Oliver's preferred method of being distracted, but there wasn't much that he could do about it, was there? Besides, the worst seemed to be behind them. What bothered Oliver more now was his own reaction. He was safe with Harold, but what if he'd been with Tamara or Errol and reacted in the way that he had? As it was, they already called him Orville - What would they think if they saw Oliver clutching at his chest and turning white as a ghost at the mention of Orville Wright's method of death?

As such, he hardly noticed Harold's next comment, though when he did, a wry sort of smile came across his face. How ironic that Harold ask that very question when his death was the whole reason for the strange behavior that he was display. "No, I'm not going to die."[/color] The word 'again' danced on the tip of Oliver's tongue, especially as he caught the tone in Harold's voice (highly unexpected), but he was actually grateful toward Harold for making this comment. It seemed to lighten things up a bit, which Oliver needed at this point in time. He didn't need to get himself into any more trouble, he needed to get a clear mind and figure things out. Thank goodness he didn't feel as though he had to worry about Harold too much.

Unless Harold made that comment because he knew something...?

Oliver became even more confused when Harold informed him that he wasn't studying the Wright Brothers. So why the mention of the birth and death date? His birth and death date. It didn't sit well with Oliver at all. "Where did you see it?"[/color] Oliver inquired, really meaning 'why did you say it then?'. He tried not appear defensive, but he couldn't completely hide it. He calmed a bit at Harold's next words, at least. To some extent because he could, in fact, relate to them.

"I don't like the essays much either."[/color] The freshman admitted, although in his defense he usually didn't fail them. That could probably be inferred from his current position as tutor. Cranbolt wouldn't have told him to tutor Harold if Oliver wasn't getting decent grades in class. "Can't say I disagree with that argument. The only problem here is Cranbolt."[/color] Oliver made a face as he said the teacher's name. He never had too much of a problem with the woman before (not like his girlfriend did, anyway), but after this? Well, he'd certainly be participating in Lenita's rants with more fervor now.

Word count: 548
To: Dante with Harold
Notes: Yup. XD

[Harold James Greyson]

If Harold had been Errol, Oliver may just have given himself away. But Harold generally took things once face value, preferring to ignore the more abstract elements for the real, logical ones - even if reincarnation might have been a real (though currently unexplained) process. "Distracted?" Harold echoed, confusion evident. Ill was hardly distracted, it was ill. "Y-you're okay? I-I don't think so." He added. It wasn't quite 'you gotta be kidding me, you're not okay', because Harold was rarely sure enough to say something like that. But it was coming close.

At least Oliver seemed to acknowledge the joke Harold made, if not the fact he seemed quite ill. There was a smile on the freshman's face, and Harold had no way of knowing it as due to irony, not so much his own attempt at a joke. "T-that's g-good at least." He said, tone still light and joking. Not that it was anything like him saying he'd prefer Oliver dead or anything. But it was a joke, since it wasn't often that fifteen year olds dropped dead of random causes in school...or in most places that weren't war zones, for that matter, and despite Harold's unwillingness to be tutored, this was certainly not a war zone by conventional means. Alas, though, the joke seemed to melt away to confusion on Oliver's part, which was an odd turn of events for Harold. Normally he was the confused one, not the other way around! What did it matter, where Harold found the dates in question? He wasn't even sure if he could remember where they'd come from. "Somewhere?" Harold asked, not latching on to the other meaning behind the question nor recalling where he read it. "I-I-I just know i-it." Why did this knowledge bother Oliver so much?

The conversation then took a very abrupt turn in another direction, back to one somewhat school-related, much to Harold's dismay. Essays. Stupid, stupid, useless essays, where he had some 80 minutes to write and hope for the best. Why did he need to explain some stupid topic to some teacher who knew it all already? It was like teaching him to add. He already knew! "Canbolt is r-r-rude." Harold decided right then and there. "S-she's not i-in base t-ten." Just, to Harold, Cranbolt was not in base ten - she was so utterly pointless and crazy, she didn't even get to be in base ten.

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words| 488
tagged| Oliver / Mandee
notes| None

[Oliver Lee Winchester]

Perhaps distracted wasn't the right word. Weirded out seemed to fit better. He was weirded out and seemingly no closer to getting any answers from Harold. Oliver also had a feeling that he wouldn't get any answers unless he came out and said what he was wondering, and that would only cause more problems. Such a frustrating situation.

Oliver was surprised when Harold stated that he didn't think Oliver was okay. Well, it was true, but Oliver wasn't entirely sure what to say to that. Most people would just brush it off as the person answering not wanting to talk about whatever it was that was bothering them, but Oliver realized that with Harold it was different. Harold was taking it literally. This in turn meant that Oliver had to answer literally. "Well, no I'm not. I just received a surprise, that's all."[/color] A surprise indeed. While Oliver couldn't come out and say 'you just blurted out a bunch of information about my past death' he could not disguise the slightly bemused look on his face that hinted at the fact that Harold was in fact responsible for this surprise. Whether Harold would interpret it that way or not remained to be seen, but the expression was there.

"It is good. Dying's not the most pleasant experience in the world."[/color] Oliver stated, a grin still on his face. This was something he knew from experience, yet Harold seemed to be taking everything at face value, which meant that hopefully he would take it the same way he was taking everything else in this conversation - as a joke. No matter what turns the conversation took, however, it kept coming back to Harold's odd statement.

Oliver wasn't asking where Harold had read the dates, though it was easy to understand why Harold might be confused about that. He was simply asking for the stimulus behind blurting out his birth and death date, if he wasn't being studied in history class. He wouldn't have just blurted it out for no reason, after all, and Oliver wanted...no, needed to make sure that he wasn't the driving factor behind Harold's statement. Judging by Harold's confusion, he wasn't, but that didn't do much to soothe Oliver at this point. He was on edge. "What made you say m-those dates though, if you're not studying them in class? Did you see the name somewhere? A picture?"[/color] He was not overly worried that he'd almost stated 'my'. He'd caught it before it was much of a danger, after all. Even Tamara and Errol would be hard pressed to make much of anything out of what could easily be just a simple stutter. It wasn't that Harold knew the dates, it was that Harold blurted out the dates out of nowhere! If he wasn't studying them in history, then why? Why blurt them out? It was frustrating the reincarnate freshman.

Oliver nodded in agreement with Harold's assessment. "She is."[/color] Oliver felt that way for different reasons than Harold, but he still agreed with the sentiment. He hated being tricked into doing something, and he still felt as though this was exactly what Cranbolt had done. It was hard to back out when a teacher came up to you and said 'you're going to do this'. The statement that Cranbolt wasn't in base ten caused Oliver to chuckle. "No, she really isn't. Base eight is more like it."[/color] Harold was still a confusing specimen to Oliver, but he had an idea of where Harold was going with his statement. So he went along with it. It seemed like the best option to take, especially since Oliver was poking and prodding at Harold for information elsewise.

Word count: 648
To: Dante with Harold
Notes: Had to throw the base eight comment in, since you mentioned it. XD