[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/fmoc9pK.png?1[/img] [img]https://i.imgur.com/MWe6Mdc.png[/img] [img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/201119/52304f0af1e380e1e39ffee4526fbba5.png[/img] [img]https://i.imgur.com/fmoc9pK.png?1[/img] [/center] [indent][color=gray][i][color=white]"Did you know dysfunction is a form of function, Caspian? Whether its because of a psychosis or in your case, anger, you're dealing with something and you turn to rage as a means of survival. You deliberately choose to avoid more cerebral reactions and whatever that reason may be is now your function. How you cope. Ah, but we won't have a solution until we discover why your dysfunction is true. We can treat your symptoms, but to find a cure would take much longer... I need time with you. I'm a firm believer that talking things out will not only help us find the root cause to your dysfunction, but also help you understand yourself. I know you think whatever you tell me will reach your father, but I can assure you, it won't. Trust me when I say I'm here for [b]you[/b]. No one else, but you."[/color][/i] [center][h3][color=white][b]~[/b][/color][/h3][/center] Sitting on his Villa Valencia [url=https://d9dvmj2a7k2dc.cloudfront.net/catalog/product/cache/1/image/731x481/17f82f742ffe127f42dca9de82fb58b1/v/i/villaval-studio-br-main_8_aico2019_1.jpg]bed[/url] that reminds one of the look and feel of old world Spain, with distinctive marquetry and intricate embellishments, Caspian Grey, who was sleep deprived, in only but his black boxer briefs, stared at the design of his vintage Karastan [url=https://www.nfm.com/productimages/4199750/3/l]rug[/url]. The past two weeks came and went, completely and utterly in a blur. Eventful, but something he hoped had ended differently. His therapist had told him he had gotten so frustrated at his father that he broke his mother's favorite Cloisonné decorative [url=https://cdn.incollect.com/sites/default/files/zoom/Vintage-Cloisonn-Decorative-Vase-with-Birds-and-Floral-Motif-296647-948127.jpg]vase[/url], the one with the birds and flowers. The words of his therapist were foreign, as if the stranger was weaving a tall tale and Cas was the main character in this bizarre fable. Where there should be memories, there was blank space. Static in his brain, nothing more and nothing less. He felt like if there were answers for his 'dysfunction', he would've found them already. See, Caspian was aware he forgot, he was aware that there were periods of time he couldn't remember no matter how hard he tried. There were moments in his life that if he truly, deeply needed to dig deep and retrieve, he would need to find bread crumbs first. Yet, all he could find were will-o'-the-wisps leading him astray. No one wanted to provide him with information and no one wanted to help him. Instead, they made it a stranger's problem because he was 'angry'. If there was any sort of reason for his foggy, chaotic mind, it was because he suffered from insomnia and the solution was simple: [i]give him pills, not therapy.[/i] There was so much Caspian couldn't recall, like the fact that he didn't give his twin sister a proper goodbye before she was suddenly sent off with luggage to [i]Emma Willard School[/i], located in Troy, New York. He remembered the discussion of the merge of the two schools. He remembered telling his sister to leave it to him, that it would all be taken care of. He remembered preparing his points, focusing on charity, community, and a challenge, coming up with an appealing presentation that he knew his father would like. He remembered his father's cold stare and how slow and thorough he carved into his steak. He remembered his mother's lavender dress, her sitting there as a bystander, avoiding meeting her son's gaze, as his twin excused herself early, not being able to handle the tension. He remembered. But after that point? Nothing. A missing page in his book. At last, Caspian knew he would be wasting time thinking about everything and nothing at all. Instead, he would prepare for his day and take a step forward to showing his father that he could make something beautiful out of a seemingly worthless place. A waste of time, as Simeon Grey put it. Call it ideals or [i]hope[/i] but Caspian believed that the worst circumstances could bring out one's true strengths and even a school like Rosefell deserved to be tended to — the flowers were only wilting softly. All the school needed was time, attention, and a healthy environment. There was no room for failure. For if he failed, he may not see his sister for the rest of the school year. [color=#6e7f80]"Caspian, breakfast will be ready in thirty."[/color] A gravelly calm and flat male voice was heard on the other side of the door. Looking up from the rug, the young heir exhaustingly uttered, [color=a57e67]"Are they still here?"[/color] The man was quick to respond. [color=#6e7f80]"No sir, your father has left for the day and your mother is on her morning walk."[/color] [color=a57e67]"Great. I'd like to eat in the conservatory then, please."[/color] With sudden ease washing over him, Caspian stood up and stretched his body, prepared to take on his day, repressing the knot in his stomach. [color=#6e7f80]"Of course."[/color] Acknowledging his butler's response, the young Grey dismissed the humble servant with a simple, [color=a57e67]"Thanks."[/color] From there, he was ready to take a bath, get dressed, eat food, and enter this new chapter in his story. A new chapter, without his sister. Caspian hated she wasn't at his side for this endeavor, he hated he wasn't at her side either, but there was no point in beating himself up about it. He failed her, so the only way to make it up was to keep his word and make Rosefell beautiful. Most importantly though, he was eager to leave this barren household for half a day. Nothing against the house, it was extravagantly beautiful, historically awe-inspiring, and wondrously enchanting, but the sooner he left, the better. He didn't want to deal with his mother, who most definitely blamed him for getting Calypso shipped off, among other things. It was for the best if they left things at wordless glares. He didn't need her becoming hysterically loud and unbearable because he brought up something she didn't want to hear. In addition to that, it was unnervingly quiet, without Callie around. This godforsaken place needed her high-spirited energy and playful demeanor. Without it? It felt incredibly cold. There was no heart. So, the sooner he left, the better. [center][h3][color=white][b]~[/b][/color][/h3][/center] Since Caspian had learned about the merge, he didn't waste a second. First, he created a Rosefell High School Fund, attaching a link to the outdated school site. It would take much longer to build a foundation, finding board members to spearhead the mission that aimed to provide resources that will help increase students' upward mobility and success. For now, he simply had a place for students and parents to make donations, anonymously or not. As such, he was the first anonymous donation, in hopes that more people would want to donate, and even sent a tip to the local news station about the merge and the fund. He chose not to reveal how much he donated, but if people wanted to really know, it was nearly half a million dollars (450,000 to be exact) to cover [i]everything[/i] he wanted, and some. Secondly, he developed a landscape plan that would govern the care and maintenance of the Rosefell campus, so that he could continue to work in the shadows, with a small committee in charge of making his vision a reality. His donation would cover contracts with three work personnel for one year (which could be renewed depending on the success rate), the landscape superintendent and two gardeners for maintenance — any other assistance would be left for community volunteers until they raise more money — and a contract with a landscape company, covering the bases of hard landscaping, hedging, planting trees, screening, and turfing. The cushion money would refurbish the school fountain and ideally cover installments like a greenhouse, a botanical garden, and a gazebo. Based on his calculations, he put more than enough money in the fund to cover landscaping, but if he needed to he would either convince his father for a large allowance or he'd try to get the students to participate in small school fundraisers, like a bake sale or a car wash. Any other school projects would be put on hold until he surveyed the areas that could use the support of Liberty wealth. So yeah, one can say Caspian crammed a lot within such a short time and today was the day everything would start happening. Sitting in his station wagon, in a parking spot by shade, he looked at his watch, before peering at the lot's entrance where suddenly two large landscape trucks came in, followed by three vans, pulling up far from the school building, where the landscape superintendent was waiting for them. [color=a57e67]"Right on time,"[/color] he whispered. As if the morning wasn't already chaotic, WSYX ABC 6 came speeding in to be the first to cover the first day of the merge. Caspian had already warned Principal Jameson and VP Berkley that their presence would be needed for an interview, and if they could get a couple of students to talk about their 'excitement', even better. A couple staff members led the news team to the football field, which was the most attractive setting in this whole place. Coverage and publicity was important, for something as big as this, especially if they wanted to bring awareness to Columbus for the sake of bringing in money flow to a rundown, neglected school like Rosefell. Nodding to himself, Caspian exited his car, wearing a short-sleeved shirt, neat trousers, and smart shoes. A lighter [url=https://i.guim.co.uk/img/static/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2010/5/18/1274200142770/Xavier-Dolan-002.jpg?width=1010&quality=85&auto=format&fit=max&s=c37765e95d4ffd03d78943738b7e9c44]ensemble[/url] than usual because he wasn't trying to stand out in a black turtle neck and dress pants. He wanted to look approachable, as if he was going to a film festival or something, not some scary, edgy rich white boy. Plus if his sister was here, she would've suggested him wearing white for a change. Here the Dark Lord was wearing a [i]white[/i] shirt and even chose to wear his glasses, which she loved to see. A good compromise, as if he had this discussion with Callie back at home. When he saw the email with his tour guide's name, he was quick to google her. Thank god he did, because he wouldn't expect someone with such a sweet name to be so... feisty, matching her handle @feistyspice. Her Facebook was misleading, displaying a lady with a great goth aesthetic, who had a wonderful friendship with this girl she called Minty, pictures of her with her family, people from California, and general memes/interests. It was cute. Shortly after, he started going deep down the rabbit hole though, which led him to her Instagram. To put it in simple terms, she was... confidant in a sexual way. What was that term his sister used? Lewd. Yes, his tour guide was lewd, sporting lingerie pics in distracting positions, displaying her best parts by putting the camera at an angle to make her desirable to a perverted eye, and her being touchy with people he didn't care to know. He did like the pictures that showcased her make up and hair styling talents. If anything he found that more attractive than everything else. But, Caspian wasn't one to shame a woman so if this is what makes her feel good, then who was he to judge. She was beautiful and she knew it. When he entered the building, Caspian was taken aback at the sudden splash of color and sparkle. There was a large sign that screamed 'WELCOME TO ROSEFELL' with shades of blue, white, silver, using all the supplies under the sun you could get at a neighbor craft store like fuzzy pom poms, glitter, and paint. What a sweet gesture to use Liberty colors. Maybe his classmates would appreciate it, maybe not. Granted, Caspian would be one of the few from his school who would say he liked the red and black of Rosefell more than the blue and silver. Well, his favorite color was red, after all. On top of that statement piece, there were streamers, balloons, and more glitter. God, there was glitter everywhere. Cas would hate to be the guy responsible of cleaning this up. His attention was ripped away from the amazon of decor around him when a boy started cursing by the sign up table. Someone really hated name tags... patiently waiting for the abrasive boy to go away, Caspian went to the table, grabbed a marker, and wrote his name in elegant handwriting that mirrored a form of [url=https://static.boredpanda.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/beautiful-handwriting-lettering-calligraphy-26-572b21030265d__700.jpg]calligraphy[/url]. His expression lightened when he saw Christian frustrated close by, wondering how to find his tour guide. Sliding his way beside a familiar face, who was one of the kinder boys at Liberty High, he politely asked, [color=a57e67]"Mind if I wait here with you?"[/color] He'll know his tour guide when he sees her, she was definitely not someone you can miss. His gaze went from Christian to his black pants. Damn. Glitter was on it already. [/color][/indent]