[h2]Mark Tybalt[/h2] [@bluemoon277] [hr] [i]"I guess its just you and me now huh?"[/i] Mark remained quiet, proving to give an agreeable nod over the gentle, steady lapping of the waves against the sturdy ship to Kanala; having noted the girl's ability to stand with minimal effort in a sweep of grace. It remained human, familiar enough in that sense, not the sort of motion that wasn't human. Mark had seen enough evidence of that - footage of, what appeared to be people, moving [i]too[/i] fast or [i]too[/i] gracefully. It was discomforting - at least he, as far as he rationalized it, moved with the grace of the cat he took on when he assumed their shape. Kana proved to join him in leaning over the railing; Mark had no remarks for the departing parties, in fact, he didn't honestly care. It was indifference, with one of the two students seeming particularly uneasy about the presence of anyone. Understandable - he himself wasn't fond of meta-humans, as ironic as that was. It was a bit... strange to not only be so old here, but to have gone through life without any exposure to them beyond what the internet and media brought to life. Listening to girl's yawn, Mark stretched slightly, cracking each joint in his knuckles before she spoke again, this time smiling and reminiscing about the sea. He followed her logic as best he could muster, it made enough sense as to what she was saying; waves were waves, no matter where you went, beautiful with a potential for violence in every case. "No," Mark paused as Kanala proved to explain with added depth about the nature of her experience with the vast watery expanses, "I understand what it is you mean." He hesitated, trying to formulate his response the most reasonable way he could; "I wasn't ever around a large amount of water. Certainly not afraid or bothered by it, but I prefer my feet to be on firm ground." Looking toward her slightly as the ship adjusted its course much closer toward the island, the engines and rudder working together to steer closer through the faint misty, humid air toward a faint dock that appeared on the horizon. Needless to say, while Mark wasn't pleased with the fact that they were already here, no more happy with his situation than he was before, he at least was glad the ship wasn't traversing the cold open waters for much longer with them all aboard. There were many reasons he preferred water he knew more about... Alaskan waters? He didn't know the first thing about this environment. He'd need time to wander whatever wilderness he could to understand them. "I gather we're almost there..." He adjusted his hat, looking back to Kana. "Care to join me?" [hr] As if bad needed to turn worse, this island appeared to be home to a castle-esque structure... the academy itself. This, along with everything else he could just inherently feel about the environment around him as the students were lead through the far more cheery and vibrant garden did not make the cat in Mark any the slightest happier. It felt like the forest here were just... ominous? Forbidden maybe? Like they were hiding something - something that the academy didn't want to contend with. It didn't sit right, whatever it was. Neither did the Head Mistress or the man in black suit and coat. [i]Miranda Caryl?[/i] Mark did his best to commit the name to memory, because as far as he was concerned, he was in the enemy's territory now. The boat, at best was neutral ground, state waters. Here...? This island? This building? Hell, even the seat he was sitting in now within a giant auditorium as probably the oldest member here short of the cadre of teachers? All federal government. NEST's pride and joy public project. Doing all he could to note her words, the tempo wasn't right; it was off. It certainly wasn't a college introduction speech or the type given by the run of the mill professor or doctor. The backpack between his legs, a three day kit, had basically all Mark stilled owned; everything he hadn't mauled. It wasn't much, but it did feel like he was being shuffled along - not long enough in any one place to get a good, continuous look at anything that he considered high value or of interest. For example, who was the man on stage with the Head Mistress? What value was he? Was he her husband? A Head Master? Teacher? Whatever - he'd find out eventually. Slinging his pack, one loop over his shoulder, he stepped into what appeared to be a mass cafeteria. "You have got to be kidding me." It was organized chaos, with every inch of the entire dining hall polished and orderly ordained. Great, long tables, fine utensils, banners - you name it, they had it. It spoke of wealth, affluence and power... for a bunch of, lack of better words, kids Mark thought. Sighing, shrugging the pack slightly, he glanced around to see if Kanala had caught up with him.