Like many of the other Residences on and around campus, Evan's building had been something else before it had been a student residence: in this case, a hotel. The kitchens were extensive, and the cafeteria and dining hall were lovely, with wood fixtures and patterned tile floors and even chandeliers. It gave the impression of antique loveliness, of competence and elegance, even with the patina of student messiness that inevitably descended upon every school cafeteria ever. It was a point of endless consternation amongst the students who lived there, then, that the food was so bad.
Mealtimes were social business, as much because the tables were good for group study as because everyone basically wanted to pay as little attention to the food as possible while it was being consumed -- plus it never hurt to have other ears to bitch to who had to suffer the same fate of whatever was on the burners tonight. Therefore, supper found Evan with his roommate and a pair from one of his other classes, notes strewn between them, plates empty and to one side, conversation animated. Evan himself was listening more than he was speaking, even his tenure amongst the Audentes not enough to turn him into a true extravert, but he listened with bright-eyed interest and interjected from time to time.
The rich tenor voice, when it interrupts, is familiar. It's familiar in a way that sends electricity right down Evan's spine, familiar in a way that feels all at once very wrong and ignites a warm glow of shocked pleasure up the back of his neck. That's all in an instant, and he looks as his friends do, catching a look of surprised fascination on his roommate John's face as he turns.
There is no mistaking the person standing in front of him, in full foreign gear, his facial tattoo somehow just as conspicuous as his unmistakable ears.
Evan's brain skips a beat, like a record jostled. He hears John exclaim gleefully, "how did you do those?" before he manages to gather himself.
Ignoring his roommate's assumption of movie magic, Evan gapes. "Mel?" In a moment he's standing, facing the elf, staring and staring and examining, unable to believe his eyes. "You're... how?"
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
The most awkward welcome to college life
Date: 2016-09-11 05:22 am (UTC)Mealtimes were social business, as much because the tables were good for group study as because everyone basically wanted to pay as little attention to the food as possible while it was being consumed -- plus it never hurt to have other ears to bitch to who had to suffer the same fate of whatever was on the burners tonight. Therefore, supper found Evan with his roommate and a pair from one of his other classes, notes strewn between them, plates empty and to one side, conversation animated. Evan himself was listening more than he was speaking, even his tenure amongst the Audentes not enough to turn him into a true extravert, but he listened with bright-eyed interest and interjected from time to time.
The rich tenor voice, when it interrupts, is familiar. It's familiar in a way that sends electricity right down Evan's spine, familiar in a way that feels all at once very wrong and ignites a warm glow of shocked pleasure up the back of his neck. That's all in an instant, and he looks as his friends do, catching a look of surprised fascination on his roommate John's face as he turns.
There is no mistaking the person standing in front of him, in full foreign gear, his facial tattoo somehow just as conspicuous as his unmistakable ears.
Evan's brain skips a beat, like a record jostled. He hears John exclaim gleefully, "how did you do those?" before he manages to gather himself.
Ignoring his roommate's assumption of movie magic, Evan gapes. "Mel?" In a moment he's standing, facing the elf, staring and staring and examining, unable to believe his eyes. "You're... how?"