Winter Tsukuyomi ❄ Rikka Hishikawa (AU) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
peacefulwinter) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
savetheearth2013-12-13 09:29 am
peacefulwinter) wrote in savetheearth2013-12-13 09:29 am
012 ♦ Closed -> Open
[after school | closed -> open]
She'd been dreading this day, ever since the horrifying moment just over ten days ago when she was escorted out of the school in handcuffs. They'd asked her, through a message between third and fourth periods, to come to the student council room after school for a special meeting, and to bring all the council's books and materials she was the caretaker of as its secretary. She was assured it wouldn't take too long.
And so, that afternoon, Winter sat in her chair near the head of the table. Before, this seat made her feel like she'd accomplished something. Like she had power... like there was something she could do. Now, it made her feel like a target, as half the assembled students stared at her, some whispering with pointed glances in her direction. She knew what was coming. And as someone clicked on the room's voice recorder and the chatter died, she felt the spotlight on her, burning through her composure.
The meeting's opening passed in a blur. Names were spoken for the record, adding hers as a formality she didn't even notice. Old business was addressed, not that she'd ever left more than a few things unanswered. The treasurer reported the money being spent on Christmas decorations.
And in new business... "As a result of her actions during the police investigation on December 2nd," the faculty advisor to the council began, "I have received a recommendation from the school board to dismiss Winter Adamas from her position as student council secretary. I have also received a recommendation she be suspended for the remainder of the semester, but I cannot, in good faith, allow it. The effect on morale would be devastating."
She pauses. Winter used to know her name. Used to know her face. Now, though the fear and the shame, she can barely hear the voice speaking her name. "I would like to hear arguments for or against this measure, but as it stands, there is nothing I can do to block it. Unless someone has new information, Winter, this will be the end. I hope, for your sake, that you or someone else can provide something. Does anyone want to comment?"
She couldn't say anything. What was she supposed to say? 'Oh, no, I'm sorry, I went too far in my role protecting the students, it won't happen again?' Or maybe, 'It's all right, I have powers and knowledge from someone who was on the student council in her past life, so it'll be fine?' There was no defense for this.
One voice. Male, possibly a year younger. She still couldn't process faces or names. "I support the measure. Duty or not, Winter is too heavy-handed. I get dirty looks from my classmates because she enforces the rules too harshly. We're not all-powerful - we're just students, like everyone else. I think she needs to learn that."
Nothing but silence for several seconds. Then, the murmurs started again. This time, she could hear the judging. Some small part of her knew what was coming. The rest of her was too scared to speak up in her own defense.
"That's enough," the advisor cut in, stopping the chatter. "I don't see anyone else looking to speak. Winter? This is your last chance to say anything," she carried on gently. "Do you have anything to add in your defense?"
The paralyzing fear gripped her even harder. But automatically, her mouth managed, "No, ma'am." She could barely hear herself, but she was pretty sure that was the blood pumping in her ears. She saw a frown from the advisor, and somewhere between pitying glances and satisfied expressions on the others.
The advisor nodded. "Then we'll put it to vote. All in favor?" A chorus of 'aye' went through the room. She was pretty sure that was every voice, save maybe one or two. "All opposed?"
Winter opened her mouth. Pushed herself. "N-n-" But it didn't come. She wasn't loud enough. Wasn't strong enough. She saw the advisor look down at her again, frowning, and she could feel in her heart that this was it.
"So be it," the advisor- no, teacher now, went on. "I'm sorry it had to come to this. Winter... this is the end. Thank you for your service to this point, but as of now, you are dismissed from the student council. I see you brought back all the books, so I won't force you to stay any longer." She stood and opened the door to the student council room, the door creaking ever so slightly. "Have a safe trip home, Winter."
She knew the dismissal when she heard it. The others held their tongues - no matter how much they liked or hated her, this was too severe to interrupt. Too important. Winter had already done the research; this had never happened before, in the school's history. Gathering her things - the lightness of her backpack registered faintly, now that the council books were gone - she scooped up Raquel, took one last look back, and walked out without another word.
Winter was pretty sure the microphone caught her sobbing as the door shut behind her. She also didn't really care. She stayed there for what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, before she ran out of the school.
[afternoon and evening | open]
Shortly after the meeting was adjourned - they'd waited several minutes for Winter to calm down enough to leave before finishing up, then edited out her crying out of respect (and the faculty advisor glaring holes through anyone stupid enough to object) - the audio was posted to the school's website, as was normal. Someone, however, decided this was important news to share, and within a few more minutes it made its way to Twitter. However it got there, Winter clearly had made a few enemies, and word spread quickly. She got a text message from the advisor later that afternoon to warn her, and her tears came anew; her feet had carried her to a park bench relatively near the school, where she'd been since, and now she just wanted to hide somewhere and never come out.
Some time later that evening, she'd actually even made it onto the evening news - this was serious, and they'd been gobbling up anything they could get their hands on regarding the drug bust at the high school. They hadn't been able to use her name, but the story about "a Locke City High School senior" being dismissed from the student council for "severely overstepping her bounds" was plenty damaging - and identifying - enough. They'd tried to get a quote from the advisor, but what aired was something that almost lifted her spirits a little, amounting to "that girl is already traumatized enough without anyone else's help," and "I don't believe this was the right decision - what does this teach our children if we punish a girl for trying to help in the only way she can?" In the back of her mind, Winter was pretty sure she wouldn't be seeing the advisor again, either, but she wasn't going to worry about that now. Right now, she just felt dead inside. The phone rang all night, but she didn't dare touch it. The same went for her cell phone - unless she recognized the number, or it was coming across from the network, she just let it ring.
She'd been dreading this day, ever since the horrifying moment just over ten days ago when she was escorted out of the school in handcuffs. They'd asked her, through a message between third and fourth periods, to come to the student council room after school for a special meeting, and to bring all the council's books and materials she was the caretaker of as its secretary. She was assured it wouldn't take too long.
And so, that afternoon, Winter sat in her chair near the head of the table. Before, this seat made her feel like she'd accomplished something. Like she had power... like there was something she could do. Now, it made her feel like a target, as half the assembled students stared at her, some whispering with pointed glances in her direction. She knew what was coming. And as someone clicked on the room's voice recorder and the chatter died, she felt the spotlight on her, burning through her composure.
The meeting's opening passed in a blur. Names were spoken for the record, adding hers as a formality she didn't even notice. Old business was addressed, not that she'd ever left more than a few things unanswered. The treasurer reported the money being spent on Christmas decorations.
And in new business... "As a result of her actions during the police investigation on December 2nd," the faculty advisor to the council began, "I have received a recommendation from the school board to dismiss Winter Adamas from her position as student council secretary. I have also received a recommendation she be suspended for the remainder of the semester, but I cannot, in good faith, allow it. The effect on morale would be devastating."
She pauses. Winter used to know her name. Used to know her face. Now, though the fear and the shame, she can barely hear the voice speaking her name. "I would like to hear arguments for or against this measure, but as it stands, there is nothing I can do to block it. Unless someone has new information, Winter, this will be the end. I hope, for your sake, that you or someone else can provide something. Does anyone want to comment?"
She couldn't say anything. What was she supposed to say? 'Oh, no, I'm sorry, I went too far in my role protecting the students, it won't happen again?' Or maybe, 'It's all right, I have powers and knowledge from someone who was on the student council in her past life, so it'll be fine?' There was no defense for this.
One voice. Male, possibly a year younger. She still couldn't process faces or names. "I support the measure. Duty or not, Winter is too heavy-handed. I get dirty looks from my classmates because she enforces the rules too harshly. We're not all-powerful - we're just students, like everyone else. I think she needs to learn that."
Nothing but silence for several seconds. Then, the murmurs started again. This time, she could hear the judging. Some small part of her knew what was coming. The rest of her was too scared to speak up in her own defense.
"That's enough," the advisor cut in, stopping the chatter. "I don't see anyone else looking to speak. Winter? This is your last chance to say anything," she carried on gently. "Do you have anything to add in your defense?"
The paralyzing fear gripped her even harder. But automatically, her mouth managed, "No, ma'am." She could barely hear herself, but she was pretty sure that was the blood pumping in her ears. She saw a frown from the advisor, and somewhere between pitying glances and satisfied expressions on the others.
The advisor nodded. "Then we'll put it to vote. All in favor?" A chorus of 'aye' went through the room. She was pretty sure that was every voice, save maybe one or two. "All opposed?"
Winter opened her mouth. Pushed herself. "N-n-" But it didn't come. She wasn't loud enough. Wasn't strong enough. She saw the advisor look down at her again, frowning, and she could feel in her heart that this was it.
"So be it," the advisor- no, teacher now, went on. "I'm sorry it had to come to this. Winter... this is the end. Thank you for your service to this point, but as of now, you are dismissed from the student council. I see you brought back all the books, so I won't force you to stay any longer." She stood and opened the door to the student council room, the door creaking ever so slightly. "Have a safe trip home, Winter."
She knew the dismissal when she heard it. The others held their tongues - no matter how much they liked or hated her, this was too severe to interrupt. Too important. Winter had already done the research; this had never happened before, in the school's history. Gathering her things - the lightness of her backpack registered faintly, now that the council books were gone - she scooped up Raquel, took one last look back, and walked out without another word.
Winter was pretty sure the microphone caught her sobbing as the door shut behind her. She also didn't really care. She stayed there for what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, before she ran out of the school.
[afternoon and evening | open]
Shortly after the meeting was adjourned - they'd waited several minutes for Winter to calm down enough to leave before finishing up, then edited out her crying out of respect (and the faculty advisor glaring holes through anyone stupid enough to object) - the audio was posted to the school's website, as was normal. Someone, however, decided this was important news to share, and within a few more minutes it made its way to Twitter. However it got there, Winter clearly had made a few enemies, and word spread quickly. She got a text message from the advisor later that afternoon to warn her, and her tears came anew; her feet had carried her to a park bench relatively near the school, where she'd been since, and now she just wanted to hide somewhere and never come out.
Some time later that evening, she'd actually even made it onto the evening news - this was serious, and they'd been gobbling up anything they could get their hands on regarding the drug bust at the high school. They hadn't been able to use her name, but the story about "a Locke City High School senior" being dismissed from the student council for "severely overstepping her bounds" was plenty damaging - and identifying - enough. They'd tried to get a quote from the advisor, but what aired was something that almost lifted her spirits a little, amounting to "that girl is already traumatized enough without anyone else's help," and "I don't believe this was the right decision - what does this teach our children if we punish a girl for trying to help in the only way she can?" In the back of her mind, Winter was pretty sure she wouldn't be seeing the advisor again, either, but she wasn't going to worry about that now. Right now, she just felt dead inside. The phone rang all night, but she didn't dare touch it. The same went for her cell phone - unless she recognized the number, or it was coming across from the network, she just let it ring.
no subject
A little more quietly, she continued, "It's another reminder that... I'm trying to be someone I'm not."
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"Because you share a soul with her?" he guessed. Since that was how it worked with at least one of the idiots he was remembering things from...
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She shook her head, smiling softly. "I'm g-glad... you came to see me today."
no subject
It was a nice change. One he could get used to.