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Post by TRYGVE GRÅFELL on Nov 3, 2010 16:36:50 GMT -5
Trygve had come to the library for the first time today, and he had been impressed with the amount of reading material he found. But before he could get to his reading he had to do his homework. That was a bit irksome, but what had to get done would get done. It was not so much that he found the work hard, but it was just tiresome. If he possessed less self control he would have sat down to read before he did his work, but he knew he wouldn't ever get his work done if he went that way. Once he started a book nothing else seemed worth doing. With a heavy he started his work.
If there was any time the Norwegian found himself looking 'undignified' it was now, when he was curled up in a comfortable soft chair a book open in his lap. His head rested on the back of the chair, curled up in a ball as he read quietly, lost in his book. He'd already attended a few classes, and done his homework. His notebook was on the floor next to his bag as he sat there reading quietly. He liked these chairs, they were just big enough for him to curl up comfortably, book nestled between him and the chair...So what if his leg would probably be asleep when he had to stand up? He'd just have to be careful not to make a fool of himself.
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Post by STEFÁN EIRÍKSSON on Nov 3, 2010 18:07:57 GMT -5
Foreigner used to find Iceland a difficult place to navigate through due to lack of signs. This was because (or so the semi-joke said) Icelanders always knew exactly where they were going and what they were doing, so they didn’t need road signs, maps or directions. Stefán was not the exception; he could easily navigate from Árbær to Vesturbær without getting lost. This, however, was not Reykjavík – and most certainly not Iceland.
It was, in fact, a library. Exactly how various books about cars ended in the language section was beyond Stefán, but he was not going to question the sorting method of Americans. Continuing down the aisle, he found himself stopping abruptly in his tracks. Right there... right there... a tiny piece of home. Colloquial Icelandic – The Complete Course for Beginners the title said, much to Stefán’s amusement. He reached out and gently removed the book from the shelf. It wasn’t exactly what he had been looking for... buuuuuuuut he had a tendency to postpone things in favour of entertainment. A habit he had picked up from his country father.
He should really have found a book for his history class (The British colonies wasn’t his strongest subject), but he could do that later. The day was still young! Stefán moved casually towards a clearing in this jungle of books, but his walk haltered slightly at the sight of another person sitting in one of the chairs. He hadn’t foreseen this... he had been prepared to sit down by himself and spend the afternoon reading, but this unfamiliar student didn’t appear hostile or unfriendly. As long as he didn’t look up and questioned his choice of book.
His eyes kept firmly on the unaccompanied seat, Stefán moved quickly to settle down.
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Post by TRYGVE GRÅFELL on Nov 3, 2010 18:35:38 GMT -5
The Norwegian had been enjoying his book, the turning of the page a methodic action, and in the back of his mind he knew he probably should be doing something more productive then just sitting, but it didn’t really matter. He had a good book, and once a good book was in hand it didn’t matter where he was (wither is was America or Norway, books were books, right?).
He heaved a slight sigh realizing his own books were probably buried in the bottom of his trunk, which lead to the train of thought that consisted of having to unpack. Fun. He hadn’t bothered to meet his dorm mates yet, all he would really do there was sleep right? Or… Ugh, never mind that now, he was trying to enjoy his book without distractions (including himself).
It wasn’t too long until he was in his own little world, fingers fidgeting with a button on his sweater as he read. He noticed a slight movement, and he paused in the middle of his line. After rereading the sentence (so he could return to it, and remember where he was) he glanced to the side, just a brief movement, to observe the newcomer. He didn’t seem too…er, vibrant. He wasn’t a fan of vibrant people; they tended to expect others to be just as excitable as they were. That just wasn’t true.
Well, as he stated previously (to himself), this other boy didn’t seem too bad. In fact, he looked like he was actually in the library to read. That was always a good sign, in Trygve’s opinion, reading a book was a nice silent activity. He blinked a bit realizing his bag was in the way, and he mumbled something as he leaned over a bit, grabbing the strap of his bag, pulling it closer to him, briefly catching the other male’s gaze, giving a short nod before he tried to return to his reading.
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Post by STEFÁN EIRÍKSSON on Nov 4, 2010 8:30:51 GMT -5
A simple nod in acknowledgement, that was really all Stefán needed. He was grateful the other had moved his bag, allowing space for Stefán to sit down. As he did so, however, he noticed his own bag was still around his shoulders. He pulled the strap over his shoulders and placed it down next to his feet. It didn’t take particularly long before a total feeling of relaxation settled over the Icelander. It was warm, he was sitting comfortably, and it was silent around him. Opening the first few pages of his book, he instantly recognised the letters. It was quite clear, however, that this was a book meant for native English-speakers... the pronunciation were a bit off.
It was strange, but this book with all its funny letters and weird sentence structure made him homesick – and he had just arrived at this school, so to speak. Stefán turned a few pages, but snapped the book shut (a bit too forceful than he had intended) before passing twenty pages. As much as he wanted to continue reading, the assignment wouldn’t magically finish by itself.
With a small sigh, he reached down to his bag and began rummaging through it. He quickly found his English book, and also a note he had shoved into his bag earlier. Placing the English book in his lap, Stefán leaned back in the chair again as he let his eyes linger on the note. ... And he almost cringed. The note informed him of his dormitory and three other students he was sharing it with. Aged 17, 18, and 19 respectively. Stefán knew he could wave peace and quiet farewell, and that he would spend most of his time at the library. Having lost his will to study, he simply stared at the note with a blank expression.
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Post by TRYGVE GRÅFELL on Nov 4, 2010 17:58:03 GMT -5
Trygve yawned as he returned to reading. He found himself drifting in and out of consciousness as he was so warm and comfortable. After a few moments his body jerked slightly, and he froze, goddamn it! He’d fallen asleep and made a fool of himself, in his opinion, and he shifted, sitting up a bit more, yeah, he’d try to play that off like he’d meant it. Yeah, classy… He muttered something to himself as he set the book in his lap, trying to shake himself from his sleep. Glancing over at the other male he sunk a bit into his chair as he forced himself to look at his book. Maybe he hadn’t noticed? Wouldn’t that be nice?
He found himself watching the other, not obviously, but just watching him. He was probably analyzing him, to see if this person was acceptable for him to interact with. Sometimes first impressions could be deceiving, but he didn’t seem half bad. He wasn’t home anymore, there for any friends he didn’t have, he couldn’t have here anyway. Which forced poor Trygve into the uncomfortable position of making friends, or staying alone. If one of his fears was being forgotten, he had to have someone to forget him, didn’t he? No, the teen was not happy about this, no he hadn’t wanted to come here after all, but he was suck here. Why not make the best of what he had. Maybe he’d try to… socialize…
After a few moments of inwardly debating his half-assed plan he decided to try it. Watching the other male rummage through his bag he eyed the book that was removed, before he registered the expression, and before he could stop it—”What dorm are you?”—damn it… it’d slipped out. He knew he was blunt, but that...that was just sad.
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Post by STEFÁN EIRÍKSSON on Nov 4, 2010 18:35:08 GMT -5
One of the names was definitively French. Francis Bonnefoy didn’t exactly seem like the typical American teenager. Gilbert Beilschmidt had to come from Germany, Switzerland or Austria… or have ancestors from a German speaking-country. And Lien Nguyen sounded like an Asian girl’s name… hang on, was he sharing a dorm with a girl? Asdfasdfasdfadsdfdsfafasdasdfdas – things just kept getting better. But none of them seemed to be a native English speaker, which was good…
Maybe he could go talk to the headmaster (or headmistress for that matter) and ask if he could be assigned to another dorm? That was, if he could find the office… no, that was more trouble than it was worth. Argh, he should have stayed home. Why did he even apply for this school? Experience and widening ones horizon just seemed like petty words at this moment.
An unknown voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Exactly what dorm was this anyway? Stefán had been far too busy studying the names and ages of his new roommates. "100" he replied automatically once his eyes found the number. Were there really one hundred rooms at this campus? Was one hundred equal one – as in the first room? Argh, everything about this boarding school was confusing. Even this library! Where they kept putting books about cars in the language section!
Stefán resisted the urge to rub his temples as he put down the note... only to realise that the other student was looking at him. He looked weary, Stefán noticed, as his eyes immediately began analyzing the features of the unknown person. He looked about as blank as Stefán did... which he decided to take as a good sign. "You?" Stefán questioned back, just as blunt. No need to beat around the bush and he was slightly curious. If he proved to be Bonnefoy or Beilschmidt, then maybe his dorm wasn’t as bad as he first intended.
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Post by TRYGVE GRÅFELL on Nov 4, 2010 19:17:00 GMT -5
The Norwegian shut his book carefully sighing as he moved to look over the back of it. He sighed as he stared at the barcode and he looked up at the other man. He blinked slowly, he felt like he was looking into some emotional mirror. Or, emotionless mirror, either one was good. Maybe this guy could be his friend, he didn’t seem half bad, maybe he could stand this one human. What sort of luck did he have if he could make a friend with someone like this? Good luck?
He blinked slowly as he waited for his answer, “104.” He stated simply. Well, not the same room, but they would be close? He assumed so. Numbers were the same in each country, one next to two, two next to three, three next to four. He was roomed with Ludwig Beilschmidt, Roderich Edelstien and Raivis Galante. He’d already met the last, somewhat, but he hadn’t seen or heard from the other two. Or…maybe he did, he just didn’t know what they looked like. What did it matter?
“I suppose if I ask where you sleep it would only be proper to say I am Trygve Gråfell.” He said with a short nod. It was true, though, asking someone where they sleep, when put in such a way, sounded creepy. That and the fact he somewhat wanted to try to keep this conversation from withering away into a sad sad little interaction, he’d have many chances to fail that hard. Cocking his head to the side,”And your name is…?” He inquired,
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Post by STEFÁN EIRÍKSSON on Nov 5, 2010 11:03:07 GMT -5
104... ah, so he wasn’t Bonnefoy or Beilschmidt then. Stefán couldn’t help himself but to feel a little disappointed, even though he shouldn’t. This guy didn’t appear particularly French or German... or Asian for that matter. But it was a shame; he seemed like an okay guy... except for the name. His name was like a death trap; Stefán realised, and felt his insides twist. It was impossible for him to try to repeat it, especially with his weird pronunciation. Though... it was oddly close to the Icelandic Tryggvi... was this student a Scandinavian?
Stefán had encountered many Danes in his life and could immediately dismiss this student as a potato-throat. His accent and pronunciation was similar to a Swede, but Stefán had never met a Swede with Gråfell as a last name. They usually used –sson, -berg and –strom. Only one option left then. "I’m Stefán Eiríksson," he replied evenly as he once again leaned back comfortably in his chair.
Though if he didn’t keep up the conversation, it would die and things would take a turn to the awkward corner. "Where are you from?" he asked hesitantly. Stefán wasn’t used to this... smalltalk. If a random person walked up to him and started talking to him, the Icelander would presume said random was drunk, insane, an American or possibly all three. "Gráfell doesn’t seem like the average American name."
Stefán swung and missed the pronunciation. By a mile. And he knew it. His fluttering rs could never keep still, and that aw sound Trygve used was not to be found in Stefán’s alphabet. All in all, it sounded more like Graofell than what it was supposed to sound like... This was why Stefán never should be allowed to pronounce foreign names and words.
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Post by TRYGVE GRÅFELL on Nov 5, 2010 16:25:13 GMT -5
Trygve shifted, leaning forwards as he put the book in his bag, moving to get out his notebook, he could always take notes or something. Though it was mostly he just needed something to fidget with. He got his pencil case and his notebook (his sketch book) and he crossed one leg over the other as he supported his notebook there. The position kept the notebook at a comfortable position for drawing…it was also good for hiding the paper from wandering eyes. He absentmindedly started to work at shading a part that didn’t need any more work, but he didn’t need to think about it as he kept his mind partially busy. It prevented awkward eye contact.
He let his hand drift lightly over the page, drawing one of his little magical creatures as he listened,“Well then I’m glad, for I am not an American. He gave a brief smile as he nodded,”I am from Norway…” He said with a nod,”You are from….?” His voice drifted off, making it into a question. The other had a name like his, in way that neither of them sounded American. Which was nice, the tones of American names weren’t to his liking. But each to his own, he supposed. He lifted the notebook, turning the page as he started a new drawing, none of them were very big. Just little drawings, but upon closer inspection they were incredibly detailed. Small things were hard for people to see without being obvious, he couldn’t help that was such a private person.
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Post by STEFÁN EIRÍKSSON on Nov 5, 2010 17:59:29 GMT -5
So he was right, Trygve was a Scandinavian. Stefán couldn’t help but to feel slightly proud of himself. But he also couldn’t help himself but to wonder what the chances were of meeting a Norwegian at an American border school. Oh well, it didn’t really matter. "Iceland," he replied as he watched the Norwegian draw on the notebook for a moment, before shifting his attention to the Icelandic book.
He placed it in his lap, untied his shoes before lifting his feet into the chair. He simply loved sitting like this, especially with his chin resting in his palm. Opening the book again, Stefán began skimming the pages as he felt his body slowly relaxing again. "Are you acquainted with your roommates, yet?" he asked after a slight pause, his pale indigo eyes haltering on a word.
He pulled his legs closer, almost sitting on them now. Stefán was well aware of the fact that his feet would fall asleep pretty soon, but he was pretty sure he could endure that. It was, after all, a most comfortable chair. Looking up, his gaze fell on the Norwegian before looking down into his book again. Eye-contact was still a bit uncomfortable for him at this early stage.
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Post by TRYGVE GRÅFELL on Nov 5, 2010 23:32:33 GMT -5
He blinked some and he nodded,"I suppose that makes sense..." Look at that, they had something in common, they weren't damn Americans. This could be nice, maybe they could be friends. Well then, wasn't he shooting for the stars? He shifted some as he pulled on his sweater more fully, getting comfortable.
He blinked a bit as it took a moment to register the question,"My roommates?" He repeated nodding shortly as he drew,"I met one, a certian Raivis Galante...He was lost in front of the dorms..." He said softly nodding. He didn't think little Raivis was so bad, he was awkward, and he somewhat made a fool of himself, but he wasn't half bad. Hopefully the other two would be just as good.
"But not the other two..." He said shrugging,"Ludwig Beilschmidt and Roderich Edelstien..." He said as he leaned forwards a bit, working on specific details,"Who did they put you with?" He inquired curiously.
[OOC: Sorry it's so shorttt~! ]
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Post by STEFÁN EIRÍKSSON on Nov 6, 2010 13:08:46 GMT -5
At the mentions of a student being lost, Stefán felt his lips pull up into a smirk. He himself had almost managed to get lost when he arrived but he had managed to find a map, so he had found his way around fairly easy. He hadn’t been in contact with anyone either… Stefán mostly kept to himself, so it was almost a miracle he was making a friend so quickly. At the mention of a second Beilschmidt, he felt his interest rise and he lifted his gaze up from his book again. "Beilschmidt? I have a Gilbert Beilschmidt in my room…" Stefán replied, "along with Francis Bonnefoy and Lien Ngu…"
He did give her last name a try, he really did, but his lips just wouldn’t form the name. "… Lien." he finished rather bluntly, feeling his cheeks heat up from his failure. "I think she’s from Asia somewhere." Thank you, Captain Obvious. The Icelander buried himself in the book again, forcing his blush under control. So what if he couldn’t pronounce it… it was foreign! He was sure a lot of others had difficulties with that name as well. "I haven’t met them quite yet… and I don’t feel going to my dorm either…" He muttered into his book.
It was true. His gut was telling him to stay away from his dorm for as long as possible.
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Post by TRYGVE GRÅFELL on Nov 6, 2010 13:38:50 GMT -5
He continued to draw, the being was now receiving a back ground, screw his science notes. He sighed as he lifted his hand, looking at the outside part of his hand, and a small frown formed, one thing he hated about pencils, they got the side of his hand dirty. Shaking his head he ignored it as he went back to drawing waiting for his answer. The sound on the pencil was nice and even, and in the awkward silence between the sentences it provided a nice sort of white noise. He blinked some hearing a last name repeated,"Beilschmidt? Brothers, then, I suppose." He looked back at his page,"My Beilschmidt is Sixteen..." He said nodding as he turned the notepad to the side slightly so he could shade a particularly irksome part,"Probably... She's a...she?" He asked blinking some, sure he knew they were co-ed but....he would have.... No, he didn't know what his train of thought was. He himself wasn't very good with girls, no, scratch that. He wasn't very good with people...It was probably a good thing he didn't have a girl in his dorm, but he had to feel bad for that women. A girl in an all boy room? Dorms weren't exactly the most private of place... Thank the Lord he wasn't a girl. This brought something else to mind, he was in a dorm with boys, he would have to change there... He would have to sleep there. There would have to be a certian amount of trust there, to sleep somewhere in the same room as someone else. And he knew it was hard to tell sarcasm, but he didn't trust people easily.
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Post by STEFÁN EIRÍKSSON on Nov 7, 2010 7:38:00 GMT -5
"I suppose they are brothers…" he replied with a shrug. "And I think I got Beilschmidt the elder… Gilbert is nineteen." Well, age didn’t really matter… as long as his roommates didn’t use their age to buy alcohol. If there was anything worse than loud people, it was loud drunk people. With his eyes still in the book, he turned a page.
"At least I think she’s a she… Lien does seem feminine, doesn’t it?" Stefán questioned, turning another page. Well, if it turned out to be a he then Stefán would certainly be surprised. And relieved. He wasn’t quite sure how to act with a girl in such close proximity for longer periods of time… due to his withdrawn persona; Stefán didn’t have many friends on Iceland. The few friends he had, if he could call them friends, was all boys because the girls in his class tended to inject themselves with hormones and have fits over nothing. At least that was Stefáns opinion.
… Was it sad that he had always preferred Mr. Puffin’s company…? Probably… but he was also finding himself comfortable in this Norwegian’s presence. He wasn’t loud, he didn’t feel the need to fill every silence with empty chatter, and he was a good artist. Stefán absentmindedly turned another page, not bothering to read all the details on the page – he knew everything by heart. That was why he should be reading his English assignment, a small voice in his head reminded him, but he ignored it. For now.
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Post by TRYGVE GRÅFELL on Nov 7, 2010 10:51:06 GMT -5
Trygve nodded some,”Gilbert and Ludwig...Brothers…” He mumbled nodding some,”I never had siblings, being an only child.” He said as he drew quietly. He supposed maybe having had siblings might have helped his ability to communicate, but no…He had a mother and a father who couldn’t care less for him. They never talked to him, he never bothered with them, but he always had his pet, which was nice. That goat was adorable, and it didn’t mind the hikes he brought himself on. Well then, hello there Shut In Boy. He shook his head slightly to break his train of thought.
“Lien…” H said, letting the world roll over his tongue,”I don’t know. I can never tell with Asian names…” He said honestly, he had no idea. Hell, sometimes he couldn’t tell what gender those long haired ones were, he generally confused men with women. Not that it mattered, it wasn’t like he addressed people. He spoke when spoken to, and sometimes not even then. Back at home Trygve hadn’t bothered to try to make friends, and of course everyone thought he was some sort of shut in, not that wasn’t true.
Trygve sighed as he shifted, closing his sketch book as he put it back in his bag, getting out his maths note book. If he was going to sit here he might as well work. He had written down all the problems and he started to do them, he found math generally easy. He blinked some,”Do you have siblings?” He asked, anyone he knew with siblings generally had a different aura around them.
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