Impressions

[Christophe LaChandos]

"Whew. This place sure looks friendly. Guess that's what I get for crippling mon cher père. Then again... there's a lot of fun to be had here. I can feel it,"

Christophe LaChandos regarded the Paragon institute with a slight smile on his face. Sure, he'd effectively been kicked out of his family, but hey, hadn't that been what he was after the whole time? You didn't break your father's shin without consequences, and the results of his actions were that he had finally broken the restraints he'd been forced to follow almost his entire life.

Still... this was supposed to be a pretty rough place, one of the worst under the System, and although fighting was fun, getting the shit kicked out of you on a regular basis wasn't. Then again, as far as kicking went... well, that was definitely Christophe's forte.

He reminded himself that just because he was more or less free of restructions (at least on his social life) he didn't need to fly out of control. Starting trouble could be fun, but it wasn't your everyday people he was dealing with here. Christophe would have to read carefully, didn't want to go making enemies at such an early juncture.

Christophe slowly stretched out both arms above his head, before dropping them and leaning against the cradle made by his interlocked fingers. He hummed a snatch of a tune to himself.

One thing is for sure though. This... is going to be the time of my life.

[Shimizu Kuribayashi]

The sound of footsteps could be heard as someone walked down the street. People who walked in either direction turned to see what made the sound. The click of taps on the heels of military shoes could be heard a mile away at this rate. A man walked up the street towards a Japanese bistro of traditional standings. The Yokohama family owned it so it would be named after them. The footsteps got closer and louder, but the man could not be seen. People inside the bistro who would occasionally look out the window noticed that people were all looking in the same direction. Some people would just keep to themselves or would stop eating and start to look also; wondering what could be coming up the street.

White, red, and black with a glint of silver could be seen. The boy, Shimizu, walked up the sidewalk in his dress uniform. It was white, the trousers, blouse, and cover. The shoulder boards, that held his rank as Lieutenant, were red with the Imperial seal of the military on them. His perfectly polished low quarter shoes were a brilliant site to see. They were shined so brightly that you could see your own reflection in color if you looked closely enough. This was the pride of the Imperial order of Kempei Tai walking up the street to the bistro. He walked calculated, step for step, his feet being placed firmly and steadily in front the other.

Heel to toe, heel to toe; that was how he walked, as if he were in an eternal parade or pass-in-review ceremony. The wind outside was calm as if it didn’t want to disturb the way the uniform sat upon the sturdy frame of the boy who walked down the street. He walked passed the people who had stopped just to see what he was and who he was. He didn’t make any faces or look at the people as he went by. He was constantly in tunnel vision, zoning out any nonessential things from his site and mind. He continued to walk and finally reached the door of the bistro and as he was about to reach out to pull the door open, a man came and opened it for him.

He was about to enter the bistro when he saw a man he’s never seen before leaning upon a pole. His fingers were cradled together against the pole. He looked happy to be in this place, this god-forsaken place. Shimizu didn’t realize but this person was apparently one of those people that liked places like these and starting a ruckus was their form of entertainment. He turned his head to the man who opened the door and nodded to him to wait a minute. He stepped back outside and walked towards the man, his heels clicking as he went. He came to a stop beside the boy and looked him over once and spoke.

“Are you new here or are you one of those who hide in the darkest places of the campus, not coming out accept to eat or start a fight?”

It was a direct question, sure, and it was also a question that any normal person who went here would surely throw a punch at. He just wanted to make sure he wasn’t one of ‘THOSE’ people. They are a pain in the butt especially for those who didn’t wish to fight or be tormented every blasted day of their lives.

[Christophe LaChandos]

Christophe heard the footsteps long before he saw the man who was making them. At first, the click-clack was just a small accompanyment to the general background noise around the Paragon grounds (as it happened, he wasn't inside of the institute itself at that moment), but it gradually grew louder and louder as time wore on, causing the student to take notice before too long.

He didn't move a great deal, just turned his head to one side slightly, to see if he could find where the repeated noise was coming from. Special shoes... now that was something that Christophe could identify with, as regards to the weighted footwear generally worn in Savate. True, these sounded more as they had been made into tap shoes than heavy, cumbersome things designed to be used as weapons, but it was a simple comparison to be made.

It was a matter of moments before Christophe picked out the one with the noisy shoes, and he smirked upon sighting the culprit, though he quickly schooled his expression into the half-smile he had previously been wearing. Christophe lazily regarded the one whose feet had greatly preceded him out of the corners of his eyes. An official looking sort, wearing a dress uniform of some description it seemed. Japanese, but hell, foreigners weren't exactly an uncommon sight in the area. Christophe continued to watch the man, surprised by the fact somebody opened the door to a building for him, but glad for the pause in the incessant noise of those shoes.

"And I thought 'these shoes don't suit me'..." Christophe said absently to himself, quoting a song, as he had a tendency to. Assuming the one he had been idly watching had by now entered the bistro, Christophe cast his eyes upwards, staring up at the sky for want of anything better to look at. The sound of that clicking sound snapped him out of his daydreaming, and Christophe's hands unlinked as he stood up straight, bringing himself out of his slouch to his not-inconsiderable full height. The reason for this abrupt change from relaxed to readied? Well... you didn't find yourself approached out of the blue every day, especially by a man in uniform. Best to be cautious, non?

Start a fight? Christophe wondered, as the Japanese man (who, upon closer inspection, appeared to be around his own age) questioned him. Do I look that much of a troublermaker? Ha! I guess I can cause a ruckus, but I'd hardly lurk around campus just to lash out at anybody I can reach.

"Quelquefois, mais," Christophe began, lapsing into his native tongue, before stopping, and starting again. "Sorry, habit. Sure, I've started my share of fights - probably more, but I'm not a thug, if that's what you're saying. This big divide at these schools... that's not really my thing. I'm just looking to have a good time," Christophe studied his questioner closely.

"Does everybody where you come from just walk up to strangers and ask them random questions? People tend to start with an introduction, so far as I know," Christophe winked, showing he was messing around. "Christophe LaChandos," he folded his arms, watching the fellow that had approached him and wondering just what motive had had for talking to Christophe, of all people.

[Shimizu Kuribayashi]

He looked at the boy and he could tell just form his first sentence that he was not one of the students from either school. He also noticed that he was very light hearted and as he said just liked to have fun here and there, even if it meant a fight. Shimizu could deal with that and heard the boy introduce himself. He immediately bowed:

“I am Shimizu Kuribayashi, Kempei Tai of the Royal Seal. Nice to meet you.”

He was a bit embarrassed at first because he didn’t introduce himself before making his statements. It didn’t however show on his face. He looked at the boy and then looked around and didn’t see anything that seemed to be unusual. He was a bit cautious when meeting new people because he did this once, didn’t check his surroundings, and ended up getting the shit beaten out of him. He didn’t like that to happen again anytime soon. If he did, he wanted to know it was coming.

He looked on the boy’s face and noticed that he had a confused look. Shimizu could only think of a couple things as to why he looked like this. Was he surprised to see someone in uniform walking around here? Was he wondering why Shimizu of all people would talk to him or why someone would talk to him at all? More thoughts went through his head before dismissing them and relaxing himself. He did this because his uniform was getting a bit tight. When he couldn’t think of anything else to do he decided to start a conversation. This was something that he never did in his life, but since coming here he’d done it way too often.

“What brought you to this school? I don’t know of anyone that would come here voluntarily unless you were eager to die or this was just a place to stay until things somewhere else burned out.”

As he waited for the boy’s reply he looked across the street and noticed that the doorman was looking at him. Shimizu waved over to him that it was OK and it wouldn't be long. In fact he might have a visitor coming in with him today depending on how things went here. He saw the doorman shake his head in acknowledgement and saw him disappear into the restaurant, probably telling the cooks that he would be in shortly. He looked back to the boy and waited for his reply, letting the air hit his neck, further relaxing him.

[Christophe LaChandos]

A bow? *pour moi? He must have mistaken me for somebody important. Ah... he's probably just being polite. There's no point trying to cross-analyse a guy who wears complete uniform going about the place. It's like critiquing a culture that you don't even know anything about.

Christophe was faintly amused by the formality of Shimizu in introducing himself. Stringent, upper-class upbringing that he had ... 'enjoyed', Christophe still didn't tell every new person he met his life story. 'Christophe LaChandos, Savateur of green gloves standard' Wouldn't that be quite the mouthful? It was unfair to poke fun though, Shimizu was only being courteous after all. Christophe was glad he had kept his expression in the same half-smile the whole time, otherwise his new acquaintance might have had reason to suspect he was being mocked.

Indeed, Shimizu was looking a little embarassed, and Christophe winced inwardly, hoping that the sheepishness wasn't due to some subtle nuance of expression. More likely it had been what the musician had said about introductions. Ah well... Christophe was never exactly a tactful one. No harm done, so far as he could see. He dropped his folded arms after a moment, one hand running distractedly through his hair, and the other finding its home in one of Christophe's pockets.

"I didn't have much of a choice," Christophe told Shimizu truthfully, his words accompanied by a wry smile. "I was sparring savate with my father. I happened to not-so-accidentally break his shin. Then... well, here I am, Paragon," he chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, before a broad grin broke out on his face. "But *c'est la vie! What's done is done. Can't say I regret it, past time my old man was knocked down a peg or seven," Christophe was frank to be sure, but then, he always had been where family was concerned. He truly hated his father, and didn't care who knew about it.


* pour moi? - for me?
* c'est la vie! - that's life!