[h2]Mark Tybalt[/h2]
[@bluemoon277]
[hr]
Kanala spoke with a sense of adamancy that one of her qualities, perhaps the most pronounced of her person - the ability to glean one's mind - was as an intrusive as Mark had imagined; there wasn't an ounce of doubt in his person to begin with about that, not from the moment he learned such a thing was possible. Her demeanor however, had the same general impact on his person as did most things, which likely proved mildly confusing to anyone not readily familiar with Mark's level of indifference or, as in this case, feigned indifference. Realistically Mark was not fond of the notion, but to show any reaction well or weal, for or against, was bound to generate more problems than solve any.

He provided a nod, quietly eating another roll after having dabbed it gently into the saucer of soy while Kanala continued.

The interruption to the conversation as Kana proved to cringe uncomfortably, even bumping the table, was what perked Mark's curiosity. Raising a brow, he watched with a sense of mild confusion and attentiveness to her reaction of, what he soon discovered to be, the drink's frothy carbonation which proved to burn the girl's nose lightly. It ended as abruptly as it began, Mark having held almost entirely still during much of the conversation, as if assessing how if at all he should respond, to which Kana did before he opted to.

[i]"Sorry about that."[/i] She laughed lightly, proving to smile afterward.

Mark nodded with a faint grin of acceptance; it was amusing, but he did not have the time to reply as yet another interruption came. Some sort of mass notification, the sort that made the young man less than pleased with the arrangement and mentality of the school; everything was done on their time. To Mark, this reminded him of his father's regiment when he was much younger, that everyone else's time did not matter as much as his. Sighing, having finished his meal - or so he was given the situation - he stood, replying to Kana as he adjusted his loose over shirt and glasses.

"I would." He said simply, taking up the backpack before departing alongside her.
[hr]
[@SepticGentleman]

The night before the school day itself was not an enjoyable one; Mark was separated from the one person he "knew" and thrust into an unfamiliar environment. Not that the conditions were poor - for what he expected, they were just as seemingly lavish as anything else, but that was neither the point of his concern and discomfort nor the end of it. Feeling as awkward as ever, he had slept little throughout the night - nothing much out of the norm he experienced, but with an added sense of it all being more foreign.

The day following proved to be as consistent in that as well.

All of the oddities, the strangeness, all just taken for granted, as if these sorts of matters happened every day; which, realistically with meta-humans, they did... but that changed nothing for Mark. [i]Everything[/i] about these people felt strange, even Mark himself. The academic courses were straightforward, but just the ambient personality to everything? Hardly.

By the time he sat down in the last class of the day, Mark wanted nothing to do with the general repetition of it all. Everything was broken down into the same overview of the course, introductions, some sort of private then group exercise, then completion of it. He hoped that this "Doctor Ruben" proved to be more the atypical normal sort.

That was wrong. Very, very, [i]very[/i] wrong.

As Mark sat, roughly in the middle of the class, setting his bag aside, drawing out a pad of paper and a pencil, he took brief note of his company; needless to say, he certainly wasn't early, but the moment the clock struck the class' start, Mark was rewarded with the presence of a, well he guessed it was, man. Not just any ordinary man, the one wrapped and bound as he was, but most strikingly bearing what appeared to be an antique diving helm with an early era television mixed in, along with a prevalent scent of flesh - meat, sinew. The furthest Mark could be from normal and though he wanted to gawk, the animal in him rather bristled and sat uneasily in his seat; deferring to the latter, he listened, then soon watched as the teacher produced a bizarre looking device.

Toying with the construct as he was, Mark wasn't [i]immediately[/i] surprised when Ruben produced more tendrils and withdrew the stock of dimly glowing devices; their faint green radiance against the unusual fleshiness of the teacher. Now, between accepting of what he understood was strange and what he didn't, Mark was not sure which prospect was more frightening - the teacher or the fact these devices, according to him, were concentrated sources of meta-human energy.

[i]This is going to end poorly.[/i]

Thought in forefront of mind as Ruben approached, setting the device down without slowing, Mark examined the workings... well, once Ruben was out of reach and sight; Mark wasn't sure how to feel about him one way or another. He was suspicious of everyone, particularly something - that wasn't fair, [i]someone[/i], like Ruben. Not only because he was a teacher at the academy, but because he so casually provided these devices, which he either was confident were safe for the students to handle or realistically unconcerned with the remote possibility of something going wrong.

Handling the device, giving it a faint shake and watching the liquid flow within it, Ruben's words caught Mark's attention.

[i]“Place. The band. Around. Your arm. And observe. How the meta. Energy. Reacts to yours.”[/i]

Begrudgingly, Mark watched the other class members handle them, but proved otherwise to do as told, slipping the mechanism over his wrist and soon up the arm; it reacted about in the manner Mark immediately expected, roiling about at first as it seemed to try to keep a single, coherent shape and substance. Its hue darkened and changed from a green into a amber, before turning a deep crimson - steadying his breathing, attempting to remain calm, Mark allowed it to behave as it wanted to. Which only resulted in the formless liquid attempting to stabilize itself again and again after rolling about in its confines, bloody coloration and all.

When it did remain idle, for the few seconds it could, he noted it was largely because he let his concentration of it go; the more intent and focus, the more work he put into it, the more it tried to seemingly fight against its stability. In a way, this proved a bit enlightening to Mark, as the nature of his abilities was more instinct... less application. It was just embracing the "knowing" of what it was he was to be doing, rather than trying to actually do it.

It would have been easy - [i]would[/i] have - to control if he could at least relax, but the fact it reacted with a bit of a blood-like coloration and behavior made it concerning; if anything it merely proved his blood and body itself was malleable, capable of changing on whim.

All things considered, Mark's reaction was stable the less he thought about it, as if ingrained in him.

A girl across the classroom - a huge woman, no less, easily towering over him without even the slightest of effort in standing erect - did not have such a passive, but consistently aggressive reaction. Her exposure was... quite violent and raised the hairs on the back of Mark's neck; that sense of animal hostility, which provoked a response from his own band, which seemed now to shudder slightly as if on edge with rising and growing vibrations - the wanting to react instinctually.

Subsequently, the band burst on her, to which she did her best to hide the after effects as best she could; arm pulled close and out of Mark's sight, he relaxed ever so moderately, but found himself still quite on edge, with the volatile currently crimson liquid still proving to vibrate on a harmonic manner - an awareness and alertness that betrayed whatever camouflage Mark displayed as outwardly attempting to pretend to be quite human when his presence here alone made that unlikely.

Muttering slightly to his partner beside him, Mark commented; "That could have gone worse."