s o c c e r BALLS [tagged;]

[AMADEO SILVIUS ROBESPIERRE]

The sun was shining high and bright today, the buttery color unhindered by the usual gray clouds that would sometimes hide its spectacular beauty. Forecasts predicted high temperatures all this week, and perhaps the next one as well. However, today was supposedly the mid-highest number-wise, which meant it wasn’t hot enough to sweat like a pig from the lightest physical exertion, and it wasn’t cold enough to be weighed down by a coat, either. Overall, it was to be a fair day, and the weatherman did not disappoint. There was a slight, humid breeze in the air, and the birds were chirping their merry melodies. Insects flew abound, going about their busy ways to pollinate and bloom Mother Nature’s multi-colored creations: the flowers. There was a smell of freshly mowed grass in the air, interlacing with the gentle breeze that was ever-present. Green leaves floated about, detached from the sturdy trees from where they sought shelter and nutrition, now independent of their mother figure. It was amazing how nature worked so efficiently together, not to mention gracefully.

Even someone who had long lost the meaning of real beauty and happiness in life could marvel at this. Silky smooth ebony hair danced in the breeze, the black tresses ruffled softly in the wind. A white glove wiped a pale forehead, stopping the trickling drops of sweat from making haste from the crimson eyes. Amadeo sighed as he performed the action, his mouth then reforming into a satisfied smile as he leaned back and admired his work. A calm air surrounded the man as his attentive eyes reviewed the patch of grass before him. The hedges were cut shapely in a way that not a twig was out of place, not a leaf sticking out or a flower poking its head out of proportion. These rectangular boxes of green were situated all around the wide green field behind the main Stella Fiore Academy building. There were about fifty of them in total, all forming an earthly barrier around the large piece of flat ground. It had taken him about an hour in total, but finally, he’d succeeded in trimming down the very last one. It was today that he’d chosen to do so, because the sun would not beat down on him as heavily as it would have tomorrow. He had made the right decision, after all, and with all the work now out of the way, he could relax – or move on to more chores. Whatever time permitted, he would do.

Clapping his hands together, a smile playing in his eyes, the statuesque butler stood up as he patted the soil and dirt and grass out of his gloves. He was dressed in his usual butler outfit, the black pants accompanied white a white, long-sleeved top with a black tie presenting itself in the dead center. These sleeves were rolled up all the way to his elbows in an eloquent matter so as not to dirty them green with grass stains. The usual black coat he’d had was draped over the nearby hedge. He’d taken it off because it deemed unnecessary under this sun and in this line of work. As soon as he would retreat back indoors, he would put it back, and go back to serving the ladies again. Something he was not entirely up to doing right now, having just worked all he could out in the heat, but something he had to do anyways, as was his job. He had no right nor time to complain on the matter.

Amadeo glanced around briefly. There seemed to be no other soul in sight, aside from the random citizens passing by to gawk at the immensity of the school, and save for some females up north in the field playing soccer (or at least, looking like they were). To this he was thankful. The last thing he needed was to have to deal with ladies running around in soccer outfits and bumping into him as he did his job. That would have spelled disaster to the highest level, not to mention gross non-symmetry for the hedges. Now this, he could not allow.

With his job done and completed, an arm shot out and pulled the black coat from over the hedge, slinging it over his shoulder. He took a last cursory glance at the spectacular work he had done (he was a perfectionist, after all), and an ankle was dropped into the ground as he turned to leave. However, before he had the chance to, a low whizzing in the air caught his attention, and he abruptly turned. There, traveling at who-knew-how-many-miles-per-hour was a soccer ball, aimed straight for his face. With well-trained reflexes having gotten over the initial shock, the black coat was dropped to the ground, two hands shooting themselves expertly in front of his body, catching the still-spinning ball. Looking around for the source of the flight, his eyes caught on the two females that he had spotted playing soccer earlier. An eyebrow as he gazed at the ball, too calm for someone who had almost been smacked in the face dead-on by a hard ball. Shaking his head and sighing, he muttered to himself, “My, my. The ladies are getting more violent these days.”

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[CHARLIE VON SCHWANSTEIN]

Charlie loved playing soccer. Rather, she liked being good at something that involved kicking and running around outside. She didn’t follow any teams, didn’t know all the rules of soccer. All she cared for was the exercise, getting to kick something hard without someone complaining, and working on target practice. It was a good technique for bullies, and helped just as much as her gymnastics did. Where those offered flexibility and muscle-strength, soccer offered aim and agility. It was quite useful, and fun, to do both. Of course, her mother approved of neither. Charlie didn’t care how bad her relationship with her mother was doing, recognized only that it was going downhill and would unlikely pull back up. She didn’t care enough for her mother to want to patch up their relationship, and her mother seemed intent on transforming Charlie into something she wasn’t. The idea that they would ever get along was completely unnatural.

Spurred on by these rather gloomy thoughts, Charlie kicked the ball she was practicing with a little too hard. It sped toward the tree she was aiming for, proved impact by the splintering of bark, and bounced back with what appeared to be twice the force. She hit the grass as the ball went zooming over her head and somewhere behind her. Once she was sure it passed, she turned around and got up, then busied herself with finding out exactly where her beloved ball had gone. Ifs he’d lost it… she’d be completely S.O.L. She’d paid for that ball herself. The high quality and demand for models like it had driven the price rather high, so she’d saved for a while to be able to afford it without her mother noticing and banning her form the purchase. If it were lost now, she’d be endlessly disappointed. It was one of the few things she had acquired honestly, by her own sweat and blood. Perhaps not blood necessarily, but then it was only an expression.

It was then that she noticed the man in black, who had a ball in his hand. She jogged toward him, following his gaze with her own only to find two other girls playing soccer on a different field. Despite her outstanding pink hair, he probably hadn’t noticed her messing around in the brush, probably hadn’t noticed the angle of trajectory pointing back at her. All the same, his comment made her chuckle as she approached him. Considering everything, she wasn’t quite sure if she should apologize or not. After all, he’d caught the ball. He didn’t look hurt. Besides, he seemed friendly enough, good-natured. She bit her lip, nearing him and noticing the black coat he’d dropped. Butler, then, she guessed, or the school gardener who used to be a butler. He didn’t exactly look familiar, but then she didn’t know many people around her. Most of the ladies though she was stuck-up because she was a baroness-to-be and most of the butlers didn’t look at her twice anyway because she wasn’t what they had to worry about. The one that did have to worry about her wasn’t around at the moment, considering she’d left him to his laundry folding while she got some fresh air.

“Hey, man, that’s my ball,” she muttered, blushing a little as she tried to catch his attention. She bit her lip again, holding out her hands in invitation, hoping he’d throw it to her so she could leave him be to whatever he was doing in the grass. Although the spot of grass he was standing next to did look different from the rest, Charlie was sure she only felt that way from dehydration. When was the last time she’d had something to drink anyway? The full-length jeans and black tee probably weren’t helping with her over-heating either. Maybe she should sit down or something? The pink-haired lady banished the thought form her mind as she refocused her gaze on the man before her. “Thanks for catching it, by the way. Sorry if it was going a bit fast – I wasn’t too happy when I kicked it.” Why was she explaining herself to him? He was a stranger. A butler. For all she knew, he could be a total weirdo that wasn’t even supposed to be here. The problem was, she didn’t know, so she had no reason to run for the hills screaming bloody murder.


ooc;|| damn you make me feel like an amateur >.>

[AMADEO SILVIUS ROBESPIERRE]

It was only when one’s senses were truly honed and accustomed to a point of almost absolute perfection that nothing (or at least close to it) would ever faze you nor take you by surprise. This was exactly the theory that applied in this situation; at least, that was how he saw it. Minding his own business was a rather subtle trait of his; he often did it without realizing that he’d already tuned out everything and everyone else, and he wouldn’t notice until someone shook him out of his reverie (more often rudely than not). This being said, he would most often not notice his surroundings or anything that wasn’t directly associated to the work he was doing at that said time. This made him susceptible to being bumped into, yelled at, drowning, and whatever sort of wacky trouble occurred in his world. That is, that would have been the situation, had it not been for the fact that this man had almost godly sense that enabled him to easily keep track of the world around him, even when he technically wasn’t even “in” it, per say. It was this little tidbit then, that had enabled him to somehow still hear the high-pitched whirring of air particles being forcefully distributed and pushed out of its natural order to make way for something... well, something. Without knowing what it was, well-trained reflexes had immediately caused his body to turn towards the source of the whistling, eyes already alert for any differences in normalcy, and had immediately spotted the ball heading towards him at full speed. A low grunt escaped his lips as the ball nested itself in his hands, them being none the worse for wear. He’d made a tactless comment once more, but it didn’t matter, as no one would be able to hear it, as no one was around.

A chuckle from somewhere contradicted that thought almost as soon as it came to mind. Whirling around in his spot, Amadeo immediately located the source of the sound: a female, no doubt a lady. She came out from behind the bush, he assumed, with a huff, her face torn between apologetic and something else. Her eyes immediately darted to his black coat, no doubt assessing his status and as to his purpose in this field at this time of day, in this weather. Part of him wanted to question why she herself was here, but mostly his mind wandered on how she had ended up behind him in the first place without him noticing. Mayhap she was there before he’d gotten to the field, which was probably he didn’t see her in the first place. That would explain the odd way in which the ball had been launched; he doubted very much the ladies’ capacity to kick the ball that great a distance (he thought with a smirk), so it made more sense to him to have it come from someone who was closer to him. Amadeo smiled as he heard her chuckle, knowing full well that she’d probably heard his comment.

The blush was the first thing that the butler noticed of the female, as she spoke and asked for the ball back. Her speech mannerism was rough, almost untrained – he noted with some disregard and nonchalance. As she held her hands out for the ball, Amadeo instead held the ball with one hand, twirling it on one finger expertly, not even thinking twice on the matter. “Yes, I suppose it is, my Lady. I’m quite surprised behind this kick”, he chuckled, feigning innocence. “If it weren’t me, you’d have knocked out a tooth or two.

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He continued twirling the ball, mindful of the girl’s stare on him. Well, well. To him, this female was less than interesting at the moment. There were no real defining perks about her that made her stand out to him, and he debated inwardly over whether or not he should include her in his mind games. Ah, well. Really, it wasn’t like he had much else to do, seeing as how he was done with his chores out here. All he had left to do for the day was wander about and cater to the ladies. At least if he distracted himself with this one here, it wouldn’t be as tedious, and he wouldn’t be scolded for not doing his job. Loopholes were so intriguing, weren’t they?

An eyebrow rose at the female’s unexpected explanation, one he did not even have to ask for. Why was she telling him this? Was she such an open book? If she was, then really, she held about zero interest for him. But being the class F that he was, he couldn’t be rude (outwardly, at least), not to a lady. Bowing his head and tucking the ball under his arm and still not giving it back, he spoke in a sincere voice. “It’s my pleasure. And please do not apologize. My name is Amadeo Robespierre, and my Lady, yours would be?[/color]” From here, he stood straight, coming out of his bow. It was then that his voice took on a more teasing tone, as it usually did when the “game” would start. “Not too happy? That would explain the rather malevolent force behind the kick. Something disturbs you, miss?[/color]”
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