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Post by EMMA PILSBURY on May 22, 2011 22:09:36 GMT -5
Emma hurried through the halls, a binder of pamphlets such as How to tell if your mother is your father, and Monkeys and Humans: The difference is Chastity and others of the like. She was not late for a particular meeting, nor was she in any hurry to get anywhere unless that somewhere meant clean air and a lack of sweaty teenage hormonal-ridden bodies brushing up against her. It was the end of the day and a mad rush was headed towards the doors and, unlucky her, she managed to get caught in the stampede as it carried her to her office doors.
She really did not see it coming. One moment she had just squeezed between two overenthusiastic girls before they hugged, and the next she gave a small shriek as a broad-shouldered, red-coated young man chucked a freezing, sticky blue slushy all over the front of her dress!
And for Emma Pilsbury, the world tilted on its axis, plummeted through the universe and died. Just like that.
She was too in shock to notice the half-hearted apology as the boy explained he had been aiming for somebody else, and she was too gone to even notice the curious stares of the students as they pushed past, too caught in the tide to stop and bother to help her.
Her folder had scattered on the floor when she'd raised her arms to defend herself and, slowly, she looked down at them splayed and trampled over the floor beneath hundreds of feet.
She then looked at her upraised hands, dripping, and that's when she gasped and bolted. Her eyes stung, either from slushy or tears of humiliation she wasn't sure, and just as quickly as she had been sprayed, Emma was pushing with her elbows frantically through the door of her office and, when she finally struggled it open without leaving much of a blue trail across her carpet, she found herself in the middle of her domain at a loss for what to do.
She couldn't very well touch any of her precious things and risk dirtying them, too, and she definitely could not go back out into that... that herd! (And risk someone commenting or, even worse, sticking things to her slowly drying clothes!)
So, with great reluctance, Emma found herself standing awkwardly, her spine stiff and her eyes screwed closed, waiting for the last student to clear out. She was chanting unintelligible things to herself to calm her ringing mind.
And that's when the tears leaked from underneath the heavy crescent of her dark lashes and added to the mess and goop of her face.
I can overcome this. It's just a... muck of sugar infused syrup and... water. Blue slushy. And it's all over me. Oh, and... it's hardening. Okay! It'll be okay, and I will be, ehm, fine. Yes. Ehm... happy things. Okay, sanitizer, peanut butter and jelly, shoes...
Will Schuester. notes; hope this thread plot is okay! if not, I can come up with something different. lyrics; drops of jupiter by train.[/blockquote][/blockquote] |
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Post by WILLIAM LEE SCHUESTER on May 25, 2011 22:14:31 GMT -5
"Alright guys, so for homework, look over pa-" his voice was drowned out by the students rushing for the door as the final bell rang. Within seconds, Will Schuester was the only human being left in the Spanish classroom. Sighing, he began to pack up his belongings. He picked up a couple of stray papers his students had left behind and placed them on his desk, in case there was even the slightest chance that someone may come looking for one of them tomorrow, and then he headed out the door, locking it behind him.
It was incredible how quickly McKinley's hallways cleared out at the end of a school day. No more than five students remained in Will's sight, and even they were nearly out the doors. Slinging his shoulder bag over his head, he dug his keys out of his pocket and headed for the staff parking lot.
As he walked along, whistling the song he was planning on introducing to the New Directions tomorrow during their class, he happened to pass by the office of the school guidance counselor, Emma Pilsbury. And as per usual, he couldn't help but glance through the glass to see if she was in her office. Which she was.
Will's brow furrowed in confusion for a moment. Her eyes were closed tightly, and she was standing stock still in the center of her room, with what looked to be a large blue stain on the front of her dress. Recognizing all too well the familiar look of splattered slushie (from seeing it so often on the members of his Glee club, much to his immense irritation at the rest of the student body), he realized what must have happened, and quickened his pace. Just before opening the doors to her room he felt one of his legs suddenly jerk back as he slid on something. Glancing down, he saw a great amount of paper scattered across the floor. Assuming it was Emma's, he took a deep breath and pushed open the doors.
"Emma! Emma, are you alright?"
[/color] he exclaimed, coming toward her with a concerned look on his face. He knew that these sorts of situations were extremely difficult for her to cope with, but he was prepared to talk her through it. As he got closer to her, he caught sight of the streaks of mascara running down her cheeks caused by the tears flowing from her eyes. "Oh, Emma..."[/color] he was at a bit of a loss for words. She looked so vulnerable, so alone and helpless. He desperately wanted to do something. "Look, let's... let's get this cleaned up, alright?"[/color] he reached his hand out to gently touch her wrist, trying to bring her focus to him rather than the mess before her. [/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify] |
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Post by EMMA PILSBURY on May 26, 2011 16:03:47 GMT -5
Emma! Emma, are you alright?
Yes... Will Schuester could be considered one of her favourite things, she assumed-- the idea of him definitely comforted her. He was safe, a safe person, a trustful person, a talented person...
( She wished for a person like that then. )
As the sounds of a school evaporated out the open doors and a certain man's words of comfort from the past soothed her, her breaths evened out and with the new found sense of composure, she grappled desperately to hold onto her control.
Oh Emma... Finally, her eyes opened and immediately bowled into saucers for it actually was a Will Schuester who was there speaking to her, and not some delusion from her short circuiting mind. "Oh; Will..." Her voice trailed as she looked down at her lace-ivory bust and whimpered at the ugly, asymmetrical splotch that ruined the delicate fabric. She blinked once, twice, and simply watched him as he leaned forwards and touched her. As his fingers closed around her tiny wrist, she nodded stiffly, "Yes, ehm, I'm fine... just, just messy. The students definitely have, um, admirable aim..."
The guidance counselor's eyes burned and her skin felt sticky, gross and stained; she could only imagine how she appeared. Probably like a cat soaked in dishwater and artificial color. Just perfect!
She looked up into his eyes to listen to his request and, smiling through a gentle sniffle, inclined her head in consent. Emma pointed at her desk; "Do you think that you could... ehm, my hands are sticky... I have clothes in the bottom drawer." Her manicured fingertips brushed the back of his hand as she slowly retrieved her own and, like its twin, held it a good foot away from her torso in censored disgust.
"And in the top drawer I have some sanitation wipes... oh, the gentle ones, not the strong ones... My skin, is ehm... sensitive..." She lost her thunder and her cheeks positively bloomed with a bright, embarrassing red beneath the softly curled canopy of her cherry bangs.
Feeling as if she'd give this man the world for caring enough to brave her just as she was at the brink of losing it, she shifted nervously, but flared a bashful honesty: "Thanks, Will." Her accent was thick as she pronounced his name, naturally sweetening the sound of the "W" and curving girlishly over the "L"'s.
She was suddenly boxed in the chest with the most uncomfortable feeling; like the feeling she had gotten when he'd caught her wearing one of his vests, like the feeling she'd gotten when she had essentially bid him goodbye and good luck.
She had tucked that vest deep in her wardrobe at home behind nail polish and sweaters that had gone out of style years ago, and just then as he was in her office consoling her, she remembered the feeling she'd gotten when, as her back turned, she'd cried.
That feeling was back.
Will Schuester notes; any canon details you see have been on the show anywhere between the Pilot and Funeral.[/blockquote][/blockquote] [/justify][/size] |
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