Post by trae melody ryerson on Sept 30, 2011 13:16:27 GMT -5
On most days, Trae sat by herself during lunch, feet on the table, legs crossed like a big-shot CEO in a corner office. On most days, she had an apple in her right hand and her green eyes were narrowed as she watched the freshmen and sophomores in the dining hall scrutinizingly, finding every flaw on each of their persons and deciding why it was that they could never be friends with Trae Melody Ryerson. Today was not one of those days. Today, Trae was sitting on the most comfortable couch in the girls' dormitory lobby, working on an essay for history. She had missed the day that it was assigned and the day before that, as she had been sick with the flu. There was not an idea in her head as to how to write the essay; it was terribly frustrating and almost as irritating as the only other current inhabitants of the lobby: four freshman girls. They were noisy, giggly, and squeaky. They were guffawing loudly at things that even Trae could tell weren't quite that funny. So when Trae shot them a deathly angry glare and snapped at them to shut up or leave, they quieted down and even moved their little party a little farther away from Trae. She smiled inwardly; she very much fancied the idea of her being intimidating. Even as a little girl, a small version of herself, Trae had admired the evil queens in disney movies far more than the weak, futile princesses.
The thought of being a daunting figure in the eyes of her peers was immensely appealing to Miss Ryerson. However, she was aware of the absence of fear towards her from her peers. The only people that were afraid of her were those that Trae had told off verbally, manipulated, or torn down and made feel terrible for defying her in the first place (which was a rather large number, mind you), but Trae wanted everyone to have that same fearful sort of respect towards her. Her father got that kind of respect. No one wanted to speak against him in the court of law or anywhere else, for that matter. He was one of the best at what he did and she wanted a piece of the power that he wielded.
So, when someone strode through the front doors of the girls' dormitory, Trae figured that she would begin practicing now. She wasn't going to bully this girl, she wasn't going to hurt her feelings or say anything mean, because that wasn't instilling respectful fear. All bullies got was fear and hate. No respect. No, Trae wanted to see if there was any sort of silent power or dominance that she could administer over anyone else. That, Trae knew, was where true charisma, power, and charm came from. "Hello," Trae said to the girl with the most inviting, warm smile that she could muster, "I don't think we've met," She continued, pulling a juicy red apple out of her backpack and holding it to her heart, "My name is Trae."
ATTIRE
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