I Swear It's Not Mine

[Gemma Dove]

The rain appeared to finally be slowing down to a bearable light shower, now only sending small ripples across the usual mirror like lake. Gemma, whom had been enjoying a pleasant summer's afternoon reading under her usual leafy canopy of the forest that surrounded Bellefonte Academy, was now pouting slightly as he looked out of the window of the boathouse; She sighed, taking a moment to blow upwards exasperatedly to blow one of her golden curls out of her view, before settling back down on the sofa she had been sat up on on.
The boathouse... Wasn't the most pleasant environment overall. It was used more as a student party venue, a place where less then A list students came to indulge in a few uncouth activities; And it had taken a small toll on the structure; The faint scent of tobacco hung in the damp air, a few empty bottles tucked away in the shadowy corners, a few cobwebs here and there adorned the walls. It seemed when there wasn't a stated event which required the venue, it was allowed to fall into a small state of disarray.
Gemma tilted her head at the general sad sight of the boathouse with a small smile, about to take her leave of the sofa, when she leaned into something that was sticking out from the back of the dusty cushions. With a curious glance to her side, the blonde narrowed her eyeline before taking hold of the hard object and yanking it from it's hiding place, holding it aloft to examine it in the poor amount of sunlight that was managing to stream in through the small window. It was a nearly full bottle of vodka.


Gemma wasn't exactly a patron for the rules and regulations of the Academy; She strived to be a good student, but at the same time held a firm belief that laws could be bent for the greater good. Underage drinking, however, wasn't a part of that opinion; Likely a factor enforced by her respect for her detective older brother. Getting up to her feet, with a bright smile the reporter began to make her way further into the boathouse, unscrewing the bottle's cap, opting it would be best to remove the alcohol from the equation rather then report it to a member of staff. She began to scan the small area of the boathouse, trying to locate some sort of drain where she could dispose of the liquid, when she suddenly froze.
She snapped a look over her shoulder towards the front door, her golden curls bouncing on her shoulders as she did so; She could hear the sound of approaching footsteps. In a moment of panic, since she realised what was likely going to be assumed sound it be a member of staff, Gemma quickly pressed herself against the wall of the boathouse, clutching the bottle to her chest tightly. With a deep sigh, she closed her eyes, concentrating as she shifted the pigments of herself and her clothing, extending her ability to the bottle, until they each matched the visual appearance of the wood of the boathouse wall.

Now she just had to hope it wasn't a member of staff, and if it was, that she wouldn't be noticed.

[Deleted]

Rare was the moment when Adrian was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't hear anyone nearby. Or maybe this was simply because there was only one person nearby. Normally, he was so used to being around crowds of people, constantly hearing their thoughts. Truthfully, it was always such a relief to be left alone either where no one was nearby or there was only a few. He didn't notice the thoughts until he'd reached the door of the boathouse which he'd decided to check up on.

Ever since coming here, Adrian had been looking around for a place where he'd likely be left alone. Some kind of safe haven he could run off to whenever being around people became too rough.

Sadly, this didn't exactly seem like that kind of place - at least not if someone else already considered it a safe place to be. As much as he claimed not to care about others, Adrian didn't want to be the kind of person who stole someone's private space.

His hand hovered gently above the door handle before he allowed his ability to reach out. The girl sounded... Stressed and perhaps a little caught off guard. She seemed to think that perhaps he was some kind of member of staff, but there was also something about her ability...?

Slowly, Adrian peered his head inside, eyes narrowing at the dark light inside. He couldn't see anyone, but he could read her thoughts, which meant that there was someone inside - somewhere. He took a few unsure steps in and puffed his cheeks. "You know," the Welsh boy began. "I can hear your thoughts, so you're really just wasting your own time hiding," he added as he leaned against the door frame and pulled up his cigarettes.

[Gemma Dove]

Gemma flicked her eyes open as the footsteps paused, the person they belonged to seemingly choosing to hover just outside of the door; The blonde bit her lip, leaning forward to watch the boathouse's entrance, raising a brow as her thoughts drifted to what reason a person would have for pausing there; Were they checking if the coast was clear? Perhaps it was one of the boathouse's many visitors who used the small building for underage activities... She took a sharp intake of breath as the door was opened, quickly pressing her back to the wall and closing her eyes tightly.
Gemma's ability, in a chameleon like fashion, allowed her to shift the pigments of herself and by extension that of objects she touched; This gave her access to what could be described as natural tactical camouflage, where if the female remained still, she was almost indistinguishable from her surrounding environment. This ability, however, was useless if the person she was attempting to conceal herself from could, in some manner, sense her presence, or read her thoughts.

The blonde snapped her eyes open sharply when the intruder spoke to her directly, choosing to remain still save for her eyeline, which she slowly drew over to the young man. Thankfully, he appeared to be a student, quite a handsome guy with soft waves of messy hair. He certainly didn't appear to be a threat, and wasn't staff, so perhaps Gemma could get out of this without too much of a dent in her reputation. She took a deep breath, and sighed, stepping forward with one hand on her hip, her other still holding onto the bottle.
"You scared me!" She spoke with slightly pouted lips. "You shouldn't creep up on a girl like that! ... Although, granted, it was more me that did the creeping." She then looked down at herself, realising she was still mimicking the damp wood of the boathouse wall; She quickly shifted her pigments to her usual colour palette. She then tossed the young man a warm, slightly sheepish smile. "Mindreader, huh? ... Sorry, I thought you may be a staff member, so I-" She then paused, holding up the bottle. "This isn't mine, by the way. I found it. I thought, if you were staff, you'd think it was mine, and I didn't want to-" She stopped, trailing off, realising she was only digging herself a metaphorical grave with her rapid talking. "... ... So, my name's Gemma. What brings you to the boathouse?" She smiled.

[Deleted]

The girl's thought almost had Adrian rolling his eyes; how typical was it of this generation to take one look at a person and immediately decide that the first thing they'd notice was someone's looks. Ah well, he supposed she could have thought of worse things. At least she didn't feel like turning away in disgust. He supposed it was all about the small victories in life, if nothing else. And no, he wasn't even going to get into the whole ordeal about her reputation being ruined. That, was one of the things he cared about the least.

His blue eyes widened slightly as she stepped forward and started, what, yelling at him? As if he was the one who'd been doing something wrong. "Then you should stop hanging around places like these," he said dryly, his gaze dropping to the bottle in her hand. The girl's power seemed to go as one with the boathouse walls - which admittedly was rather impressive. She continued onward on some dull tirade then and Adrian's head simply shook. "Whatever," he croaked. After all, he hardly cared if the bottle did belong to her or not.

He'd never understand why some people could be this friendly towards people they hardly knew. "For all you know, I could be a serial killer," he began, his tone indifferent and dry. "You shouldn't so carelessly throw your name around." And yes, he was going to ignore her question.