---

Mason looked apprehensively through the tinted windows of the black sedan as it slowly came to a halt. There was a small group It seemed like he had been driven through the woodland for hours, but it probably wasn't that long. The journey here from Germany had been extensive and likely had some impact on his perception of time; at this point, all he wanted was a break from travelling and a cigarette, and so he was thankful when the chauffeur opened the rear door of the vehicle and gestured for him to remove himself. Mason gladly obliged.

He breathed in the fresh air of the forest and stretched tall, his lower back cracking in relief. He hadn't been able to do any yoga for two days now and his body was teaching him a lesson. He pulled a pair of vintage sunglasses from the pocket of his dungarees; round ones, with a tortoise-shell frame and gold detail, and pushed them onto his face gently. It was a fine summer morning, and the sun's rays glared uncomfortably through gaps in the thick canopy of the wood. He breathed again, cherishing the fresh air.

The chauffeur cleared his throat. "Your belongings are being inspected externally and then sent up to the institute." he said, in a formal manner. "You should expect to find them in your dormitory when you arrive." he said, before looking down his nose at the young man - no easy feat, considering Mason's height. "That is, of course, providing everything is in order with your luggage." Mason didn't rise to the man's insinuations; he was good at ignoring things like that.

"I am obliged to inform you," he said, raising his voice ever-so-slightly, "That you can expect further transport within the hour. You are to remain with your party until its arrival and are not permitted to wander beyond this clearing for your own safety." Mason rolled his eyes at the thought of yet more travel, then looked over at the group of ten or so people stood by the roadside. He nodded and begrudgingly thanked the chauffeur, who promptly returned to the vehicle and sped off back down the road.

Mason withdrew a cigarette and placed it between his lips, feeling the cool touch of the menthol as he searched his pockets for a light. "For fuck's sake..." he cursed to himself, soon realising that he'd lost the lighter. He'd brought others, but they were all packed in his suitcase, which was oh-so-helpfully being probed for God-Knows-What by the institute. He glanced over at the group again. They were fairly spread out, just close enough to be recognised as one unit. Some were chatting amongst themselves, others were on their phones or games consoles, the usual teenaged stuff. A couple of them were watching him, no doubt inspecting the latest arrival.

Ah, what the heck..., he thought to himself. They were all gonna have their awkward introductions at some point. He figured now was as good a time as ever and before he could convince himself otherwise, he found himself approaching the group. As he grew closer, he saw the individuals in more detail. They were a diverse group, spanning a whole range of ethnicities and subcultures, but were otherwise disappointing ordina-- Wait, are those snakes?!, he was startled, spotting a stunningly beautiful Medusa-like woman towards the back of the group. He composed himself swiftly.

"Hey," he addressed the group. "Does, uh... Anyone have a light?"

A good handful of people had gathered, and still more arrived. Having shown up somewhat later than the others, Chess couldn't really throw around too much fuss at the matter, but he'd been there a time and was beginning to wonder just how many people they were waiting on. The chauffeur didn't seem too pleased by the goings-on, or perhaps just the people around. It didn't bother Chess much either way, mutant or not, the tall driver was just that, a driver, the help, peanut gallery fodder.

He eyed the newcomer, thin parasol angled over his shoulder to block out the harsher beams of the sun. Cute, artsy, maybe the theater type? He saw the boy's eyes wander to the most peculiar-looking of their little entourage, the gorgon-y woman, and he wondered if perhaps she wasn't the only one with some sort of defect -or rather, mutation he supposed.

Does, uh... Anyone have a light?

Chess let a tiny groan slip from his throat when he heard that, though he banked on his distance from the boy to dampen the volume. He smoked, pity, the cute ones always smoked. Interest lost, he turned his attention back to book in his hands, a nice little collection of seafaring plays. While they were all yet suspended in limbo, Chess had decided that he would refrain from giving his grand introduction until they arrived at the so called Institute, or at least until they got on the bus. However long his patience lasted, really.

For the past forty minutes Devin had been waiting. Waiting was something that people like him had always been good at. People had always seemed surprised when they learn that for many without sight waiting can often be the most interesting time in the day. The location rarely mattered. If you are waiting it is likely for something to happen which means everything going on around you is possibly involved in what you are waiting for.

This would be in a normal scene in a normal day. A normal day is something Devin hadn’t had in over three years. That was the day his powers began to activate. The day he became scared to hug those he cared about or even touch something. These fears had steadily been lessen, but that was different than leaving him. Their weight at the moment was almost as high as they had ever been. The world he was standing in was unknown. It helped a little that he was waiting outside. At least here there was plenty of distractions.

Every so often, maybe ten minutes or so, a car would pull up and another teenager would be dropped off. Devin had been one of the first, but the order hardly mattered as most kept to themselves. For the most part Devin had been doing his best Dawson’s Creek impression by standing up and ‘staring’ out towards the tree line. The noise they made when wind pushed against their branches was a lovely sound.

Devin had brought several things to help him pass any down time he found during the trip to the school, but he had found himself avoiding them for different reasons. He had his music player, but wanted to be ready and alert if something happened or he was asked something. For most music can be a good way to zone out but still be aware. For a blind person it was like entering a sensory denervation room. The only way to get Devin’s attention would be to touch him and that would likely startle him.

The books he brought were interesting to him and a large portion of him wanted to break one out and read it; however, the books would make it glaringly obvious to everyone that he was blind. He knew as soon as he had to move somewhere he would have to use his cane and the not-so-secret secret would be out. It was cruel of the driver to drop him off in the middle of a field or whatever it was. The uneven surface made it difficult for him to step with any confidence, hence his desire to stand still.

A breeze kicked up a little and a few people seemed to complain as it kicked up some grass and other particles. A boy sneezed and started cursing his allergies. Devin simply smiled to himself and let the nature around him become a symphony. The sound actually has a name. It is a name everyone with similar conditions as Devin hold dearly. The word is psithurism and it means the sound of wind in the trees and rustling of leaves.

One of the first books Devin read when he joined a support group to deal with his blindness, a common practice for teenagers with sensory impaired persons or others dealing with disabilities, was a book that was full of writings about noise. It was called “The World Painted with Words.” One of Devin’s favorite portions was a small section about nature and the sounds it can make. His favorite quote was by Liu Chi, a scholar in ancient China.


The story continues as Liu dives into the many reasons for why pine trees are the best for wind to clash with. After reading this Devin had asked his mom to take him on a hike. He asked for her to take him to a place where there are many different trees. He had read the entire section during the drive. He read aloud so his mother could know what he was talking about. When they reached the trail they hiked for almost an hour. It was slow, but with the help of Devin’s guide dog they were able to make better time than expected. When they reached a high ridge Devin sat down and thought about what Liu wrote.


Now standing in a field with wind sweeping across it Devin could tell roughly what type of trees were where. Almost forty yards to his left was a collection of pine trees. The song they sang was everything Liu described and was one of the young teenager’s favorite sounds. They were the first string of an orchestra, the Wilhelm scream, or a perfectly tuned piano.

The sound was broken by the entrance of another youth being dropped off. He smelled of cigarettes and quickly confirmed as he asked if anyone had a lighter. This seemed to bother another who groaned nearby. Devin shared the sentiments of the one who groaned. For blind people smoking can cause headaches and even dizziness. For most blind people smokers are difficult to be around. The smell lingers in the clothes and for those with heightened senses of smell this can be toxic to be around.

Not how he wanted me to be, not how I wanted to be free. Mirror, mirror, on the wall, I have such trouble standing tall.

It was someone new. Greg peeked up from his position, seated on the roots of a tree with a book held in front of his face. The boy was dropped off in a black sedan and immediately began asking for a light for his cigarette. This bothered two people, the blind boy and another, though the flash of irritation didn't last long enough for him to get a real trace on either of their feelings. For the best.

Dark, stark, leaves a mark. Difficult, dangerous, don't dare dally.

Greg sighed and looked back down to his book, trying his best to ignore the voices as he always did. He wasn't having much success with reading, to be honest - the dark glasses he was wearing made it difficult to discern the words. He hated them, of course, but it couldn't be helped - he couldn't risk anyone making eye contact with him.

The trip had been hellish, of course. He'd taken a plane from Idaho to New York - a four hour flight with a two hour time difference. There were so many people bustling around, going and coming and grieving and fearing and looking at him with hairs standing up on the backs of their necks when he walked past. For the umpteenth time, Greg wondered why his power couldn't have been being invisible.

He hadn't spoken to anyone except his family in... well, a long time, and hadn't exactly traveled in a while. Taking that kind of voyage was a culture shock, even though Sarah had been nice enough to help him get packed and ready to go. Of course, the journey itself wasn't even the worst part.

And now he was going to get on a small bus with a bunch of other teenagers, and go to a school for mutants. Part of him was terrified that he wouldn't fit in, that they wouldn't like him, that he'd be alone again. Part of him was resigned to it.

Pet with pets, exquisite, exotic, kills me when I don't have it.

Greg ground his teeth and looked back to his book. He'd read it plenty of times, but it was one of his favorites, and besides, he'd read practically everything plenty of times by now; he'd had a lot of time for that. Reading.

He'd been turning pages for a while now, but his eyes hadn't been absorbing it. He flipped back to the first page and began again. "One morning, upon awakening from agitated dreams, Gregor Samsa found himself, in his bed, transformed into a monstrous vermin," he whispered to himself.

Cordelia Lynn Holmes

"Your bag is clear?"

"Yes, mom."

Lynn suppressed a wince, but just barely. Damnit, it's my sarcasm, it shouldn't piss me off.

"Absolutely clear? Nothing in there? Nothing on you?"

"No. I promise." Lynn muttered.

"Alright. Well, here's your stop. They're gonna search your stuff, so if you lied, I'll be seeing you soon."

"Well, on that note, goodbye."

Lynn slid out the car, managing to quite easily sling everything she owned/needed over her shoulder. Her parole officer had chipped in for a duffel bag and some clothes, none of which were really her style, but hey, whatever, it wasn't cool to turn down free stuff. Especially gifts. From...well, he wasn't a friend, but...he was somewhere on that end of the spectrum. Lynn yawned lazily, an act which was half prompted by being stuck in a car for so damned long (Lynn had no trouble falling asleep, regardless of the place or surroundings; once her chauffeur had put on talk radio, it was all over) and half an effort to show exaggerated confidence. She wasn't sure what this whole deal was going to be-what these other kids were capable of. A quick glance around the clearing did not impress her. Half these assholes were reading. Christ. Reading. What better way to announce to the world you wanted someone to come along and kick your ass.

Well, one kid was smoking, so there was at least one person Lynn could get along with, at whatever level that may be. Still, these kids weren't going to be all they looked-something she had to continually remind herself. Her second mantra, of course, was that she could not risk ruining this. There were...heavy repercussions. Several hours of the trip had been spent hammering home the full extent of these repercussions. Generally, Lynn did not really care about punishment-she did what she would and endured whatever came as a result.

This was different.

Lynn scanned the clearing quickly and made little notes to herself. Lynn wasn't institutionalized, but she had led a much harder life than most, and a stint in juvy hadn't helped her paranoia. She'd learned that situational awareness never really hurt, and that first impressions were generally pretty damned accurate. What the girl lacked in formal education, she made up for with experience, with natural intellect. She was a sharp girl, and could've done well in school had events not happened the way that they did-she had merely learned different lessons than the others. Lynn couldn't tell you the first thing about ionic bonds, the Battle of Austerlitz. But ask her to size somebody up? To tell who out of a crowd's got the most money on them? That's the sort of test Lynn preferred.

First. Fellow smoker. Tall. Hair was all weird, maybe he was gay or something. No, wait. Those features. European. Yeah, that was it. European. Explained the smoking, too, Lynn figured. Pretty scrawny for a guy his size. Meant he didn't lift weights or push himself. Standing around looking for a light. Well, Lynn could sure as hell give him a light, but that wasn't her style.

Was it? She was having to, very quickly, weigh out how this worked. Was it better to be strong or merciful here? The thought that she could be genuinely altruistic occurred to her, and was quickly drowned out by the sound of her subconscious laughing. Eh, she could come back to it later.

Next up, we got-hold up, are we all featherweights? I mean, Jesus, I have an excuse, but these fuckers sure don't. Short-well, relatively speaking. Everyone was pretty tall compared to Lynn. Dressed pretty nice, and his hair was a bit more orderly than Lynn's lazily tied back bun (ponytails, you see, were a lot easier to grab onto in a fight). Lynn glanced down at her own ensemble-the usual baggy red Chicago bulls sweatshirt, sneakers that had walked many miles and would stand the test of many more, and jeans that were equal parts frayed and whole. Rich? Maybe? She got that vibe. He was the sort of person she would tail on the streets, see what kind of money Mommy and Daddy had put in his wallet that week. Lynn blinked and forced the thoughts out of her head. Probation. Remember the probation. And...huh. He'd been looking at that little sissy book of his for a while now, but not turning too many pages. Kept on glancing around. Shifty. Or checking someone out? Hard to tell.

Third....this guy's eyes. Damn. Lynn almost felt a little bad for the fucker, looked like he'd let a trigger-happy squid be his optometrists. Squids were the ones with ink, right? Or were those octopuses? Octopi...octo...fuck it, Lynn didn't really care what the proper plural was. He was just...standing there. Weird. Maybe a hippie. Or a, what did they call 'em, Wiccan. Lynn was unusually well versed in terms of religions-she'd crossed paths with her fair share of pamphlet-passers and rejects, although the Wiccans generally fell moreso into the second category. Not about to kill a tree to print a brochure. Eh. Weird. Nature type. Probably not much to worry about. Must've had crappy vision with eyes like that. Made Lynn a little uneasy-she didn't like not being able to see where somebody was looking. Reminded her of security cameras a little too much. She would be keeping an eye on the standalone, even if he wouldn't be returning the favor.

Then-Lynn felt a brief sense of worry-why the hell was everyone reading? What the fuck? Was it really that popular? Her own reading comprehension skills were...somewhat subpar...and Lynn briefly wondered to what extent this school would be poring over poetry and to what extent it would be...cool stuff. She might have to play nice with one of these nerds after all. Or just kick one of their asses if they tried to-

A deep breath. Nope. No. Can't do that. Probation. Lynn sighed and didn't even bother sizing up the last guy. Not a lot of overlap between people who read to themselves and people you shouldn't turn your back to.

Well, this was going to be a really, really great experience, wasn't it.

Lynn, cursing steadily under her breath, walked across the clearing. She moved over to the smoker and lifted up her right hand to the end of his cigarette, sharply told the boy to hold still, and gripped the end of his cigarette. She rubbed her fingers for a moment and felt the warmth rushing down her arm, the double-time thumping of her heart for a few seconds. The friction and heat between her fingertips intensified, quickly igniting the end of the cancerstick. There was the slightest-ever so slightest-change in her hair and eyes, a faint lightening that was probably unnoticed, what with all the book-reading. Ugh. Books.

This event probably held next to no significance to the others-perhaps they would be interested in what Lynn could do. She really didn't care if the rest of the circus knew what her particular freakshow display was (so long as they always wondered if she had one last trick up her sleeve). But you wouldn't have asked for a light like that. Not on day one. Not where Lynn was from. So if this fucker was doing it, she might as well play along. There were new rules, apparently, and that was whatever. Not how she preferred to run things, but she couldn't expect these pampered, private schooled sons of bitches to get it. Lynn moved over to an unoccupied spot of the clearing and threw her duffel bag down, leaning back against a tree. She had a good view of the whole clearing from here, able to get every single one of those "Sell me for a pack of Marlboro" looking kids in peripheral vision if she looked ahead. She pulled out a cigarette of her own, cupped her hands around it as she clenched it in her teeth, and made it come alive with ease. One long pull and she let it hand down by her waist, eyes darting around. The tip of one of her tattooes was visible on her neck, peeking out from beneath her sweatshirt, as if it wanted to see what was going on too. As she rolled up her sleeves, her forearms displayed their own markings to match.

"And now we wait," Lynn muttered, wondering how long it took to get a diploma here.

Gene had been in a helicopter for multiple hours. She was strung out and unhappy with the bland, northern surroundings that were now to be called her home. She was terribly surprised she hadn’t been allowed to take her jet here, but then again was not going to engage with her father over something so trivial. It was evident his reasoning behind stuffing her into a black, nameless helicopter to Portwood. The Grimaldi’s had recently been on another anti-mutant up roar and her arrival into Monaco notoriety would have been poorly timed if her fathers jet had been reported anywhere near this school. She had not been allowed a single cigar nor cigarette the entire journey.

The helicopter landed in a clearing in the middle of a dense alpine forest. It was the first time Gene had ever smelt the ever-greens in real life. She had to admit that their natural scent was much more appealing than the yankee candle rendition. The force of the air that the propellers emitted caused her burqa to flutter violently as she quickly light up a cigarette while inspecting her employees handling of her very expensive luggage. She took slow drags of her cigarette, the nicotine relieving some of the pain that her withdrawal struck her with.

The car that was going to transport her to Portwood was clearly school property. The driver’s suit held the school’s logo on his left breast pocket. She turned her head, inspecting the helicopter crew as the black fabric that uncovered her twisted and turned in the torrent of wind. Genevieve pulled down the fabric that hid her face, viperous eyes scanning her father’s crew to find her mark. Faint hisses could be heard from under the 800 thread Egyptian cotton burqa as her pythons clearly personified the stress of the withdrawal.

“Matheo.” she coldly demanded, yellow eyes narrowing in on a character who’s occupation seemed to be more with getting off the helicopter than back on. He was clearly taking his time and Gene was clearly aware of why he was so languid with the task. His head reared with a sense of fear as she spoke his name. She, currently, held the potential to make or break his life.

“Matheo, my love, come here….” She murmured, the mouthing of the words apparently vivid enough for the terrified man to hesitantly approach her.

Together they walked a several meters from the helicopter. The mighty winds that the machine blew phazed the content of their conversation out from the others that continued with their task. She had roughly 34 different bags, excluding shoe and hat containers. She was glad the school had sent a van.

It would have been insulting to send a smaller vehicle in her opinion.

“Matheo, you want to join your family here, no?” She rhetorically asked, the silhouette of her figure become distorted as her babies began to hiss and curl underneath the sheet. Matheo’s eyes were paralyzed in a sort of fear. He had been her servant for many years and was aware of how calously erratic her temper could be. The withdrawal only added more danger to her mood swings.

“Yes, mam” he replied in French, eyes locking with the woman’s own.

She smiled at the man, turning her head to admire his shaking jaw structure as a cold hand brushed the side of his face. She reached into a small clutch on the side of her body and pulled out a yellow envelope. “Your documents, my love.”She purred

“I-I have everything you need. Transported 19 kilos of cocaine and 5 kilos of herion. My men have opened up a free trading port to the states as well to perpetuate the supply.”

“I am so glad you understand your citizenship ends when my supply does!” She complimented, smiling with a cynical brightness as the man’s eyes failed to reach her’s. “Here, take this. There is a cellphone in the envelope as well. The second you disappoint me, the second your entire family gets deported. Understand, my love?”

“Yes, mam” He nodded, grabbing the package like a starved animal at a bite of flesh.

She gave him a kiss on the mouth, brushing away an suspicious ideas with that of an affair and calmly walking away from the fellow who scuttled after her to aid her into the car.

The ride was long but she was tired, she slept the throughout the entire route.

she arrived at the meeting spot first. there was no one else but her. She removed her burqa to reveal a 2016 summer season Moschino dress and a pair of name brand heels that cost more than the helicopter she rode in on.

As the hours past, more and more students arrived. She did not care for their present and she found their banter as trivial as that of the servants who use to crowd her mansion.

Towards the end, a figure approached. She inferred by his strikingly angular jaw that her was clearly european, his casual, yet fashionable dressed implied he was an artistic fellow with more to offer than his meek manner suggested. He asked for a light.

She heard a scoff. Her snakes reared their heads towards a tiny man and his violently, her viperous eyes glaring at the fellow as she laughed under her breath. “Oh, for such a tiny excuse for a man, you have such an unneedingly loud opinion.” She scoffed, abrasively brushing past him as she pulled an expo from her pocket, and held it closely to his smoke but a young girl quickly replaced the need for her tool.

“I guess we have our very own organic expo, here.” she shrugged, giving a little golf clap to the brunette who had just done all the “heavy” lifting for her. Consequently, she light her own cigarette next to the two, silently offering the human-lighter a cigarette as she exhaled a cancerous drag from her own.

“That’s a cute party trick, mon aime” she chimed in, a tad condescendingly but all in good humour.

Another one. How much longer will we be waiting here? Erica had been waiting at the side of this road for what felt like hours now, and quite a group had formed since she had first gotten here. It was easy to tell that they were all mutants by the way they all glanced around nervously at each other, but that wasn't the most interesting thing that Erica had noticed about the group.

The most interesting thing to her, was that there were people there who were from other countries. Sure, Erica had been out of the states, but only to Canada, which really wasn't that different at all. She had never really met anyone from Europe or anywhere like that before, and she hadn't thought that there'd be anyone from out of the states attending this institute, although looking back on it now it made sense that there would.

The newcomer got out of the car and had a few words with the driver before walking over to join the group, startled once when he saw one of the stranger looking members. Erica stifled a laugh as she watched the emotion on his face. He was obvously foreign, she could tell from how he walked and was dressed, and for a split second Erica thought she should go over and introduce herself, as she had thought for almost every interesting person to arrive since she had got here herself.

As Erica watched the newcomer, she noticed that he seemed agitated by something, realizing what it was when he asked the group of anyone had a light and she noticed the cigarette he held in his lips. Finally having an excuse to start a conversation with someone, and acting out of habit from hanging out with smokers, she pulled her own lighter out of her pocket and slowly approached him.

Before she was able to say anything, or had even gotten very close, the medusa-like girl and another newcomer both seemed to have the same idea. The medusa had pulled out a lighter of her own, but the new newcomer showed her up by pinching the end of the cigarette and lighting it with what must have been her power.

Well, that's an obvious choice. She seems like the type who always wants to pick a fight, and so she shows us that she has literal firepower. After a few seconds Erica decided to just introduce herself quickly, instead of giving up like she now wanted to. "Well, they say great minds think alike... although I was just gonna give him my lighter. My name's Erica, what's yours?"

“We’ll be there soon, I am so sorry!” Kyle’s fingers wrapped themselves around the steering wheel, charging down the road in their small car. The boy next to him didn’t seem to be paying much attention to the road, but rather had his eyes fixed on the portable video game console in his hands, a pair of headphones slipped on his head. They were of the Koss variant, to be exact. The playstation vita in his hands would quite often find home in the scrawny boy’s possession as it was his favourite, static pastime.

“It’s okay.” He replied, his voice quite light but quiet all the same. It would fit his frame and one couldn’t expect anything else. ‘I just hope that this won’t make things hard one me…’ He continued, the thoughts stabbing at the back of his mind. He’d be so exposed if he was there last, or close to last. Kyle had been forced to run an errand before he could bring his son to the bus and it had taken a lot longer than the both of them would have expected.

“I am sure you’ll get a lot of friends at school, Casper.” The boy’s father smiled as he changed his tune from worried to hopeful. In response, the boy simply shrugged. He couldn’t expect to find many friends since he didn’t make the effort himself. It was after all his responsibility to take that step but he honestly didn’t want to. He enjoyed life the way it was, by himself mostly. All of his friends were back home and they weren’t people he’d hang out with outside of school or airsofting. This wouldn’t be any different, it never was. He wasn't complaining, though. This gave Casper a lot of alone time.

“Maybe…” He spoke, keeping his attention on the viciously swinging swords on his screen. It was a rather funny scene, actually. Kyle had been a pacifist for as long as the man could remember but his son Casper was anything but. No one would expect it, especially not if you’d judge him by his appearance. The small stature, the scared and careful personality, the reserved shyness, it all pointed towards something completely different but this boy loved action. There was nothing better than violence in video games and movies, it was just so cool. The combat, the action, the over-the-top violence…it was a world to escape this one, a world where Casper actually was someone.

“Remember to be nice to the others.” Kyle continued to speak, chuckling slightly as his son raised an eyebrow in response. The two of them were very different, in many ways. Kyle’s features were rather light with brown hair and blue eyes, something quite a stretch from his son’s black hair and brown eyes. He got it from his mother who in turn got it from her middle eastern father. She was in all respects Swedish though. “And remember to speak your mind when you want to, Casper.” It was a well known fact that the boy had huge problems with expressing himself. Some people thought he had a speech impediment but it was in fact simply insecurity and a major lack of self esteem.

“Yeah…” Casper replied, pausing his game for a moment to let his mind travel. ‘Speak my mind? They’ll probably pound me…’

“Here we are!” Kyle brought the boy out of his thoughts with a loud exclamation, almost startling his son. Casper felt his heart racing at the sight. There were a bunch of people there already. Damn it, this couldn’t be good. His hands started shaking slightly as they were tightly holding onto the console but he’d notice Kyle’s hand placed upon his own. “It’s going to be fine, my son.” The man spoke with a gentle voice accompanied by a soft smile.

“Th-thanks…dad…” Casper gulped, looking through the window to see the others. He felt like a kitten in a pride of lions. Stepping out of the car, Casper slipped his Playstation Vita into the smaller, black and pink, shoulder bag he was wearing. He rarely ever left the house without it. The rest of his torso followed the same theme, black and pink with a thin shirt stretching down just below the waistband of his blue jeans. Bright red Converse clad his feet, rather clean and new. The thing that would stick out the most though would be the bright pink stripes in the black hair covering the left side of his face.

Kyle rolled up the boy’s suitcase and with a gentle hug, they said goodbye. It was best not to linger, especially in front of these people.

Placing both of his hands on the traveling case, Casper slowly approached the others as he rolled the case next to him. He didn’t say anything, he couldn’t. ‘They’re all staring at me…this is so uncomfortable….’ He looked up for a moment to see his father leaving and then turned back to the others. ‘A-are those….snakes? That’s cool but God…everyone is so…’ Well, on the plus side, Casper wasn’t the weirdest one around. ‘So…scary…’ His thoughts didn’t make it any easier for him. He felt his heartbeat accelerating further but he tried not to let it get in the way. Tilting the suitcase over, Casper gently sat down upon it, clearly revealing so how little he weighed. He reached back into his shoulder bag and produced his Vita, turning it on. ‘It does seem like those two guys are just sitting around though…that one guy seems polite, the guy who smokes…That small girl looks scarier than the snake lady…’ He breathed out for a moment as he saw the screen flash to a start in his hands. Maybe things would get better once he’d get settled.

Chess hid his eyes under his hair when he saw the newer girl arrive, and he was afforded little time to be annoyed that there would be more of a delay. She looked...interesting, to say the least, like one of the poorhouse girls from the more recent Les Misérables productions, or a
guest star' on the show 'Cops'. Without a doubt the type to watch out for, if normal thugs were unruly, Chess was sure mutant thugs would be much much worse. Not that he was worried, or anything.

Oh, and she smoked, both figuratively and literally, wonderful. As if there had been any doubt. The youth of today, he thought, honestly no class. Well, perhaps not no class.

His little huff had apparently not gone unnoticed, damn, he was used to less attentive crowds. It did afford him the opportunity to look at the strangest-woman proper, though, designer from head-to-toe. He could respect that, looking as she did he figured such fashion choices were damn near necessary. He could even respect the air of command that she had wrapped around her, it wasn't easy to walk like that, with confidence and grace and still slather each word with venom. In fact, he even found it a bit refreshing. Most of the kids he figure would be the belly-up type, all huddled up and to themselves, and despite their mutations, the gorgon woman was the first to display any truly interesting qualities to him. Of course, respect and admiration were two very different things.

"Oh sweetie," he mused, though didn't look up from his book. It was all he really needed to say, at least for now. It was the little things that planted the best seeds, keeping your hand close to your chest.

Christ alive, she smoked too, she, the scrappy-looking girl and the artsy boy. And what was this? A fourth? Chess was baffled. He hadn't seen this many smokers all in one place since the charity show in the troubled parts of Belfast. And then, suddenly, there was another arrival, and this one was at least a little bit of a relief. Fairly nice sense of dress, even if it was a bit gothy, but Chess could give a figurative tip of the hat to anyone that pulled off pink nowadays. Plus, he'd always had a thing for the emo-look, pity it belonged to such a troubled sub-culture.

Oh well, he thought, and went back to his book to wait, either for the bus, or god-help-them-all another student.

Kane had to admit that the car ride up to the school was, entertaining at most. Back in New Orleans, his family rarely left the city, as unfortunate as it sounded, he never felt like he was missing out. Most of his ride was spent in silence, the driver did not seem to talkative. Instead of trying to speak to the driver, Kane decided to enjoy the luxuries the he was being provided with at that moment. His family back at home did not even have a car. Kane knew that he really should have not been comparing his new found comfort to his families situations, it was unfair.

Speaking of family, Kane was afraid for his mother, he had left her with his unreasonable father back home. He felt a twinge of guilt as he looked out the car window at the trees outside. He sighed, he was lucky that his Mamere (Grandma in Cajun French) was there to keep the superficial peace at home while he was away. Unfortunately, that did not stop him from worrying about her well being anyway, that man would still get drunk weather they liked it or not, even his mama couldn't stop that. Not to mention that his sister would also be a handful since he was not there to set her straight, he was sure she wouldn't step foot in that house for the next few years, whatever crap she got herself into, she would have to deal with it.

"So, driver, any warnings, words of advice, before I exit the vehicle." He said sarcastically as the vehicle came to a halt in front of a congregation of people on the side of the road.

The driver simply grunted and unlocked the doors, no advice whatsoever, not a single word had been uttered by the man.

"Alohrs pas, of course not." Kane puffed as he exited the black sedan with his blue duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

Once he was out of the car, the driver wasted no time getting the hell out of there. Kane grumbled angrily before turning to the group who had been stuck in the same situation as he was. Some were more unusual than others, there was a woman who seemed to be comfortable with a snake on her. Kane was dressed simply, white AF1 Jordans, blue slim fit jeans, and a beige t-shirt. His mother would have rather had him in a suit, but he luckily convinced her otherwise. Some were smoking, or reading, which baffled him, at a time like this they found to time to stand around instead of talking to one another at least.

As he took in the appearances and idiocracies of the congregation around him, he realized something. They were all weird. But they were just like him, all different in ways that they could not control. That thought comforted him, and allowed him to relax and be himself. Kane wandered over the the group, with a friendly smile on his face, hoping to get something out of them.

"So, how's everyone doing." He said carefully. He did not know anyone here, he might have felt comfortable around them, but they my have not felt the same way.

---

"Hold still," said the girl who approached him. She was a short, feisty type; clearly inconvenience by Mason's request. He didn't say anything, however, as he watched the girl take hold of his cigarette and begin to fondle with its tip. Something about her seemed to shift in that moment, but Mason couldn't quite put his finger on it. Had he had the time, he would have attributed it to a trick of the light, but within the next second his cigarette caught light between the girl's fingertips. He pulled it away sharply, examining the warm orange ember in a fashion that was equal parts impressed and bemused.

"Thanks," he said, trying not to sound sharp as he put the cigarette between his lips and took a slow and much-needed drag. There was really no need to show-off when all he had asked for was a lighter, and now the way she distanced herself from he group without a second word rubbed him the wrong way. If she was going to make such a big deal about his simple request, he would rather she hadn't bothered at all.

And it wouldn't seem to have hurt, either, as two more of the group had also approached him, their lighters clutched between their fingers as they watched the shady-looking girl's display. One was the equally beautiful and intimidating snake-woman, the other was a pretty little thing with flowing brunette hair. The snake-woman had said something to one of the other group members, though Mason had not caught the details. The target of whatever she'd said replied in a curt and sassy manner, barely looking up from his book. Jeez..., Mason thought to himself, as the snake-woman turned her attention to the girl who had lit his cigarette. We're getting off to a great start... She seemed to be mocking the girl, but Mason got the feeling that it was all in jest. He smirked as he drew in a breath of smoke; it seemed they shared the same sense of humour.

Fortunately, for the sake of the group's moreso than Mason's, the other girl seemed less abrasive. She spoke politely and introduced herself as Erica. Mason found himself fixated on her, there was something about the girl's prettiness that just didn't seem... Natural. But simultaneously, it felt organic... There was no plastic surgery here, he noted. Or if there was, the surgeon had done a pretty fantastic job and probably charged a handsome fee.

He snapped his attention back to the conversation. "Nice to meet you, Erica," he said warmly. Whenever he spoke English, he found that his accent became far more polished and enunciated than when he had lived in the country. It seemed that living in Germany had neutralised his accent somewhat to something that was stereotypically British. He took a drag of his cigarette. "I'm Mason."

As he spoke, he noticed the arrival of two more newcomers. They couldn't have looked any different; one was very short and skinny, with tight black clothes and emo-style hair pierced with strikes of pink, his pale face peering out from beneath his bangs. The other, in contrast, was black, taller even than Mason, and stocky in a way only a hard worker can be. The latter addressed the group:

"So, how's everyone going?" he said in some sort of ethnic-American accent that Mason couldn't identify. Regardless, the guy's confidence and willingness to communicate was refreshing, and Mason smiled at him.

"Not bad, not bad." Mason lied convincingly. "And to whom do we owe the pleasure?" he asked, before looking around him at the rest of the group. "In fact, that goes for everyone." he laughed, a little nervous as he felt their eyes upon him. "I imagine we can expect another awfully long drive to the institute. It's probably best that we get to know each other." he said. He felt as though he was commanding attention, but others might have simply scoffed at him and returned to whatever they were doing. Regardless, Mason took one long, final drag of his cigarette and savoured it for a moment, before breathing the fumes out into the air before him. He tossed the butt to the floor, and crushed it into the earth with his black Converse.

Free bird, foul word, hit before I hurt. Lying, leering, laughing, looking, let lost lay low.

He hurt her, hurts her, will hurt her. The metal man met his maker.

There were more new people. Greg sighed as he heard their voices join in with the chorus already in his head. Just read the book, he told himself. Don't worry about them, and they won't worry about you.

One of them asked the others a question - how were they? Greg found himself answering before he knew what was happening.

"They are okay. Nervous. That one wishes you wouldn't smoke," he said, pointing to the other reading boy.

Shouldn't have said that. Shouldn't have said anything. Now they were going to look at him, try to talk to him. And now they knew he was in their heads. People hated that.

"I, uh... that was, I mean I think, sort of, that... I wasn't supposed to, I didn't, I... should not... have said... that." He was stammering again. Greg pulled the book back over his face, hoping childishly that they'd forget he was there if they couldn't see him.

A memory flashed through his head. Sarah, sitting on his bed. "Promise you'll try to make friends?"

"I promise." He wasn't looking at her, but then, he never was.

"I'm Greg," he said at length. "It's nice to, um, meet you all."

‘People are introducing themselves now…maybe I should, too. I’ve only had my power for like a month, the rest of the people here are probably masters of their’s…and they’re all probably a lot stronger than me. Maybe…maybe not physically…’ Casper sighed softly and turned his Vita off, careful like never before. When he was nervous he had even less control of his powers, and if he’d accidentally break his Vita, that would be the end to one of his most precious friends. “I-I’m…Casper.” The boy managed, clenching his teeth after he had spoken. Did he in fact manage that? Good, that was step one. His voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but he was sure that most of them heard him. The ones that didn’t could hear it repeated from the others.

Fiddling with his fingers, the last thing Casper wanted was to shake someone’s hand. For him to be at the academy was incredibly critical, they needed to teach him how to control his power. Luckily his powers were personal and did never extend beyond his physical body. He couldn’t shoot energy blasts at people, he couldn’t make them fly with a thought and he couldn’t conjure the elements. As long as he didn’t touch anyone, he’d be fine, everyone would be fine.

Speaking of which, what was everyone’s power? What were these people capable of? It was ironic how Casper wanted to learn how to control his powers in a safe environment but this was possibly the most dangerous place he could be in. How many of these misfits could control their powers? Was anyone there like Casper?

Casper’s eyes trailed to this other boy, Greg. He seemed almost as nervous as Casper himself. What could he do? He knew something that he shouldn’t? Something about smoking? It was hard to follow, especially when Casper was deep in thought. He hadn’t been paying much attention. “H-hello…” Casper gulped, speaking in Greg’s direction but anyone could answer. It wasn’t specifically meant for anyone, but making friends with these people was better than being their enemy, right? Being none of that was probably the best thing but if he sat there quietly, people might think he’s rude and that would probably lead to bad things.

The boy’s hands fell to his knees softly tapping his kneecaps as his legs pulled together slightly. This wait was growing horrendous, couldn’t the bus just arrive, already? It was good that the rest were making small talk but Casper was incredibly bad at that. Small talk was seriously not his thing. The boy's eyes found home on the ground below his feet as his fingers gently ran through his black and pink hair. It would be easier if someone else initiated a conversation with him, maybe.

Erica smiled as the newcomer introduced himself as Mason, trying but unable to place his accent. She knew that anywhere in Europe really, those who spoke english tended to inherit a more British accent because of the greater influence of it there than there was for anywhere else in the world, so he could actually be from the U.K. or any other country there. "It's nice to meet you too Mason. I um, can't seem to place your accent. Where are you from?"

Erica waited for his answer while watching the even newer arrivals. One had some pretty cool hair, something that Erica was thinking about copying later, only with blue instead of pink, and the other wasn't as noticible to her in comparison to the first one, but he was tall and dressed simply, at least to her own standards.

Thinking of standards, she was glad she could remember so well what she looked like in her favorite outfit, a loose light blue sweater paired with a white tank top to cover where the neckline dipped, and a flowy white skirt that went past her knees. She wasn't actually wearing that of course, but that's what everyone could see. Really, right now she was a mess from camping out in the woods so long, her clothes dirty and tatered while her hair was messily tied back in a ponytail. Keeping up an illusion of normality for even just the few hours she'd been around the group was taxing to her, taking almost half her focus from what was going on around her.

The second arival had spoken, and Mason and one of the reading boys, Greg, had both answered in some way. Now Greg seemed flustered or nervous as he hid behind his book, and Erica had to think for a moment to figure out why. As she recalled his words she focused on deciphering exactly what he had said, stifling a groan when she figured it out, and chastising herself immediately after.

So what if he can peek into our minds, I can copy your entire appearance and even your voice. Both are powerful, useful, and possibly very hated abilities, for both us and those we use them on. I know I can't always control my power, so why is he any different? He may not mean to listen in, but he, like all of us, is here to train these abilities. As she finished her mental tirade, she silently hoped that he had heard some of it, so he might know that at least one person here would try to understand.

Another person introduced themself, it was the boy with the cool hair. Casper looked just as nervous as Greg, but it was probably more from being around a bunch of strangers than anything else. Erica smiled at the group in general before deciding to follow the flow that had seemed to have started. "It's nice to meet you both, and everyone else too. Um, I'm Erica, in case you didn't know already."

There were a number of areas in which Lynn excelled. Few of them were entirely legal and none of them involved social graces. Leaning back against the tree, the infuriating mixture of impotency and confusion started gnawing at her. Shit, had she done something wrong? She'd lit the fucker's cigarette, what more did he want? The European seemed irritated more anything (last time I light a cigarette for you) and a few others with lighters (don't flip those on near me) just seemed miffed. Must've thought she was showing off. Lynn generally wasn't one for showing off-perhaps she suffered a bit from a Napoleon complex, but she preferred to leave and be left alone.

A few more were there, some Lynn had missed. Rich bitch with snakes for hair. Lynn had developed one hell of a poker face over the years-it never helped to show you were alarmed or rattled, and as such, Lynn managed to keep her surprise to herself-but that had been a bit of a surprise. Huh. She'd figured people would be, you know, weird, but that wasn't what she was imagining. Snakes for hair. Damn. She had a sudden, childish urge to tie all of them in a knot. Snakes was talking to her, then. Lynn gave her a cold smile, not rattled by the hint of condescension. Didn't seem to be much use replying to her, but she added "Oh honey, my clothes are still on. The party tricks haven't even started." Snakes didn't seem like her type of girl. Rich. Visibly rich. That was a bad way to be. Snakes probably flew in here on her private jet, tipped her chauffeur with a few hundred dollars. Lynn didn't like people like that. Not one bit. She felt her fingers began to burn, the kind of adrenaline tingle that had nothing at all to do with her power, and as Lynn looked away from Snakes she found herself wondering just how much that little necklace of hers would go for, if those snakes were sharp enough to notice a missing purse worth more than everything Cordelia Lynn Holmes had to her name.

Lynn felt the weight of the stares of the others-it was nothing new. The few times she walked through the financial district or moved into the touristy areas of Chicago, she picked that up real quicklike. She shrugged it off with indifference, continuing to stare at a point that focused on no one and everyone all at once. Some white girl who didn't seem fond of keeping her eyes to herself was talking to the European now. Lynn was too preoccupied with the issue of how this-this-would work to bother with small talk. What were the rules for this sort of thing? It'd been a while since she'd been in high school, and it'd been even longer since she'd had too much of a semblance of a middle class teenage life. She was out of the loop. All these people reading and...damnit. Fuck! This was a mistake. She should've taken juvy, that was what she knew, this was...this wasn't her, this-

Lynn took a deep breath, closing her eyes and trying to gather her thoughts. Stay cool, Holmes. Take your mind off stuff. New kid stumbled up. Oh, God. This one looked terrified. Jesus. Lynn almost felt a twinge of sympathy for him. Put the gameboy down, pull the tampon out. C'mon buddy. You're not the one worst off here. Lynn reached the butt of her cigarette-damn, this one had barely lasted two minutes-and curled it up in her hand absentmindedly, letting the last little bit obliterate itself in her cupped fist. She wiped the ashes off on her pants and resumed her normal pose. Couple people trying to break the ice. European looked to take charge. Lynn would've preferred they dropped the charade and just enjoyed the quiet, but it wasn't up to her. New game, new rules. Gotta play along.

"Hi," Lynn said. "My name is Lynn and I'm an alcohol-ah, shit, wrong meeting." Lynn pulled out another cigarette, just to have something to do. The scared looking one from earlier, his name's Casper. Good to know. Lynn privately felt that, whenever reading assignments inevitably came her way, Casper might be the one who would help her out. Casper probably wasn't aware of this, but Lynn had a sneaking suspicion that Casper would respond favorably to a bit of pressure.

Oho! And then there's this fucker Greg. Lynn put two and two together. Kid can read minds. That's cool. Lynn was surprisingly fine with this-she very strongly doubted that Greg would handle her lovely inner psyche very well. Go ahead buddy. I can barely stand it in here, I know you can't. Stick to the books, they've got happy endings. Lynn glanced. Casper was seated relatively close to her. She wouldn't whisper in front of everyone, that wouldn't be cool, but it also would be a dick move to humiliate him in front of everybody. That wasn't cool. Lynn figured if this guy didn't man up here soon he'd be a little doormat for Snakes and the rest of her condescending little rich friends sooner or later. 'Course, might've turned out Casper was a regular Jay Gatsby himself, but Lynn was going to give him the benefit of the doubt. She reached for her pack to offer him a cigarette, but paused. Huh. He...probably didn't smoke. Lynn turned and looked him over for a minute. Yeah, he....probably didn't smoke. It'd probably light his haircut on fire, as low as it hung. She went back to staring out, burning through her cigarette. The heightened glow cast up over her face, making her eyes glitter just a touch, her long scar darkening. Any other way to approach the kid? Nothing really came to Lynn's mind, no common ground she could bring up with this kid. He probably didn't enjoy rap and probably was still in school, so there weren't two big conversation starters. Oh well. She'd keep an eye out for him-Lynn had a soft spot for the underdogs, for rather obvious reasons. Not everybody got a million dollar birthright the way Snakes probably did. She glanced away before Casper got any wrong ideas (old habits die hard, Lynn supposed) and sighed, making another tenth a cigarette crumble off and fall to the ground. Oh no, guess I made another Indian cry or whatever.

Lynn resisted the urge to ask what time Mrs. Frizzle and the Metahuman School Bus were coming by to pick them up. They'd be here whenever. Or maybe this was like the first test or something. She halfway expected them to send, like, a bunch of bees or bears or whatever at them to see how they'd react. That was how it happened in the movies, right? Well, if that was the case, she was just going to pick up one of Greg's dumbass books and bore them to death. Maybe she'd just threaten to call Snakes' lawyer and watch the test suddenly get cancelled. Who knew? Lynn was full of surprises.

Devin continued to remain silent as a few other cars arrived and dropped off individuals. It had been long enough that Devin was starting to wonder what the plan exactly was. Why were they being dropped off in what apparently was a field? Thoughts of practical jokes or worst thankfully hadn’t entered his mind, but he was figuring something was delayed or lagging behind the intended schedule. Since they weren’t driven to the school they were likely going to be taking something other than a car. What that could mean was above Devin’s imagination.

The group seemed to finally acknowledge that the silence was starting to board on awkward. Though for Devin he was perfectly happy with it he had learned that for those with eye sight silence can be deafening. You could usually find out the most social by seeing who talked first. This seemed to be the smoker who possibly picked it up through his social circle. He seemed to open the conversation to introductions after a short sort of awkward cigarette lighting scene. Devin couldn’t really figure out what happened, but the voices seemed more annoyed than grateful or welcomed.

The first to offer themselves up was a young boy from the sound of it. His voice was pretty high, but not high in the way most girls sound. Devin just assumed that puberty hadn’t hit the vocal cords quite yet. He seemed to sense that Devin didn’t like smoking and mentioned it to the group. Devin was slightly startled and began to say he was more interested in them moving down wind rather than not liking them smoking at all, but soon enough realized that the boy wasn’t talking about him, but another person.

The conversation train had barely left the station when a car came and brought another. This person’s voice was fairly low and seemed southern with a slight drawl. He also seemed to walk with a heavy weight so Devin pictured him as a bigger person. It didn’t really mean anything to Devin other than it seemed to play into all parts of him. Big body, big voice, big personality. The new addition jumped started the conversation that seemed to have died with his arrival. His inquire to everyone’s state of doing was reasonable.

After Mason and Erica made their names public Devin finally had a few names to work with. He was starting to see how the international of the student body was something he could be thankful for. While normally it isn’t that easy to memorize voices and thereby people he was noticing how different everyone’s was and saw the ability to remember them an easier task than normal. Mason seemed like he would be across the pond as it were and Erica and Greg, the higher pitched voice, made the total number of names Devin had heard increase exponentially.

From their voices Devin could tell they weren’t yet starting to move closer to each other. Everyone was still respecting other people’s space and privacy. Devin appreciated this as the ground dampened any movement or walking. All too often he would think he was turning to talk to someone only to have them stay they moved to his other side and he just showed them his back. The one person he could always locate was the person who was steadily and constantly moving and pushing buttons on some sort of game thing. He seemed to turn it off and then give a soft hello. Devin assumed he was talking to someone specific and since it wasn’t loud or sounded like it was aimed at him he ignored it.

When Lynn made her wrong meeting Devin couldn’t stop himself from giving a good laugh. It was short and brief, but very much put a small on his face. He wasn’t overly embarrassed, but he did dislike as this was enough of a scene to bring him to everyone’s attention. He saw it as good a chance as any to let them know his name at least. Since he hadn’t heard anyone walk behind him he turned to face what he assumed was most of the group from the voices he had placed so far. He knew the tree giving shelter to Casper was to right and Lynn and the accent woman were more towards Mason who was on his left. He figured he was looking more towards the deep voice person was (Kane) since he was in the middle area between the majority of the group.

“Name’s Devin. Any of you think they are going to come pick us up any time soon?”

Conversation Reply to @LokiLeo789

The boy named Kane was the first to reply. He spoke a little in French so Devin replied in kind. Having been born and raised in Canada he was fluent in both English and French. "Certains d'entre nous ont attendu beaucoup plus longtemps que d'autres." His tone was friendly just like the question. Devin was relaxed, but still wondering just how long a multi-million dollar facility was going to let its students wait.

By Kanes' standards, things were not going to well. They may all have been in the same situation so to speak, but that did not mean they had to like one another. Weird was not the word to describe them all, they were more unearthly than anything else. As he had done before, he could not help but take in everyone's appearances and use it to judge them. An emo boy that Kane had missed was one of the few that came under the scrutinizing, thoughts of Kane. It was not that he had anything against Emo's, but it was the stereotypes that constantly hung over their heads. Kane knew that he was not one to talk, southerners were usually stereotyped to be stupid, so to speak. He knew himself that he was far from that, but it was a fact of life to assume that there would be stupid ones.

Kane glanced down at the smoker who had asked who he was, he even went as far as to ask all of them to introduce themselves. The guy was a bit unusual to Kane, just like the others, but he was one of the few the stood out, "more". He had a weird hairstyle, and his choice of clothes made him look like a guy off the Breakfast Club. The fact that he smoked did not help better Kanes' opinion about him, which was already pretty low anyway.

"So much for first impressions." Kane thought to himself. It seemed like the only, positive thing about this guy was the fact that he was open, free, was not afraid to speak out, take the lead. That was defiantly an A+ in Kane's book, although most people would not care to much about his book.

"My name is Kane, not ya Book of Bible Stories Cain, but Kane with a K and an E." He said humorously.

Suddenly, things went quiet, Kane glanced around confused for a few seconds before figuring it out. He looked down at the guy he had just spoken, he had answered his question, for everyone basically. Was it mind reading? No, he only knew of their feelings. Kane shook his head, he would have rather tried to write a a 5 page essay on the reasons why Trigonometry can help their futures than figure out the kids powers. The guys introduced himself as Greg, just another person that would add to the unearthlyness.

The emo kid finally decided to introduce himself, as Casper. In truth, he did look like Casper the Friendly Ghost. He was sort of pale, and that black hair defiantly did not accent his skin tone well. That was the type of guys that his sister hung out with, Kane really hoped that he would not come home to see his sister an Emo, either way, Grandmama would beat the living shit out of her is she went as far as to get a piercing.

Then a woman who introduced herself as Erica spoke. Her question to Mason was well founded and made sense, but he had to admit she was a cher. In other words, she was attractive, but Kane knew better than to say that to her face right then and there. The setting had to be right, probably during a luck break or something. Hopefully she wouldn't be stuck up and stupid like his sister and her friends were.

Then there was Lynn, defiantly not his type, she was a rebel, a hooligan. Despite the fact that he had experienced his fair share of fighting, she was beyond that. Probably a smoker, she had also let out the fact that she was an alcoholic, the type of addiction that Kane had bad experiences with. Fortunately for her, Kane would not let the stop him from conversing with her. He hated judging people in such a way, but these were the people he would spend a chuck of his life with, he had to have an idea of who they were know before it was to late.

A boy named Devin spoke up, Kane was not sure if he had spoken before, but he was talking now. "Co faire, why, what's the rush?" Kane asked raising and eyebrow. Well, there was bound to be an impatient one in the group.

P.K had realized during her first year of high school that she wasn't very good at starting conversations. Countless days eating in a bathroom stall, or simply cowering in a corner as children wandered, searching for a project partner, had broken or ability to speak up. A simple "hello" was like digging through an open wound, searching for the bullet that could potentially lead to her fatal demise. Yes, Phoebe Kate was terrible at making friends. Though she smiled and nodded as the other teens gathered at the "bus stop", she had yet to speak her mind. No, she smiled, clear as day, a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, and her hands fiddled with the hem of her white sundress. This was good for now. She could live with no one talking to her, it wasn't that big of a deal. Melting into the background, being just another nice face to see for a moment was enough.

Or... Was it?

Again, images of lonely lunches and forgotten dates filed her mind. P.K didn't want to become a wallflower again. Sure, it would be hard to stand out when you're going to a school that welcomes snake-hair-people, but Phoebe was special too. She literally glows, who could miss a walking sun? The thought briefly made her giggle, a bubbly sound that could barely be heard through the chattering group of teens, and with a slight confidence boost she let her eyes fall, smile becoming slightly less fake. Later, she'll make some conversation later.

Right now... Phoebe just wanted to enjoy the serenity of the nature around them. From beneath her wide, white sun hat she couldn't see the sky, but her mind excitedly imagined it being the most perfect azure color, and below her feet damp grass curled, soaking the bottoms of her too-tight sandals. Birds and wind sang, and leaves rustled in the late-summer wind. If not for the absence of Spanish moss and water, Phoebe might have believed this to be the bayou back home. Calm, rural, and full of life.

The clambering of the surrounding crowd soon entered her mind again. Some wondering when the bus would come, some simply getting to know each other. It all became white noise eventually, just like her old school. She never did care for listening, nor talking. Perhaps she never really cared for life in general.

cool it mizz sad-sack no need to get so grouchy

Phoebe felt her mind whisper, and she bit her lip, forcing forward another smile. Hopefully the bus would arrive soon, she couldn't be stuck with her own mind for much longer now. And, hey, maybe she'll even get to sit next to someone. That could spur some kind of interaction without too much hassle. The positive thought let her raise her head, blonde hair shuffling slightly under her hat, and she let her fist tighten and loosen around the handle of her suitcase. Right, she'll have many other chances to introduce herself once this show gets on the road. Room mates, classmates, billions of opportunities suddenly became clear as day within her head, fantasy settings where she'll accidentally bump into the love of her life while searching for her homeroom, or perhaps walk into a weird club full of future best friends. Life would be much better here, away from the Hell of her old school.

"No need to worry, hun. No need." She muttered to herself, nose crinkling as she took a deep, clear breath of air, sighing loudly. Her golden eyes wandered down the road, awaiting the bus that would lead her to a better life.

Chess gave the boy called Greg an odd look that quickly turned sour upon the realization that his thoughts were not explicitly private. He might have said something about it then, but really, what good would it do? Besides, he had his thoughts in check, nothing to fear from a little peek, as if he'd uncover anything. As well, one by one people seemed to be going up and introducing one themselves, and thus far he'd made it a point to at least commit some of what they said to memory. Faces, names, things that could be useful later were what he was looking for.

The emo kid was Casper, and Chess's "doormat" alarms went off more or less instantly. Good, the quiet ones never put up much of a fuss, and seeing just how far they could be pushed was always entertaining. He was clearly struggling, but Chess had little pity for him, if you couldn't swim on your own you'd sink, simple as that. If the boy had it in him to swim with the big fish then good on him, otherwise nature would take its course. Chess didn't care either way, no skin off his nose.

The girl Erica seemed like the nice type, which was fine in of itself, but it was risky business to go out and project that sort of thing. If Chess's doormat alarms went off, surely others' did as well. He got the same sort of vibe from Greg, though he couldn't help but feel a bit biased after the boy had gone and read his mind. Ugh, and without even asking, what sort of manners were those? The odd-eyed boy spoke as well, and Chess felt his own impatience bristle back up a bit realizing he wasn't the only one. Then there was the instigator of the little meet-and-greet, Kane, with a "K" and an "E" explicitly, bless his southern heart. Chess had never really interacted with anyone from the American South, but the rumors and hearsay were enough to give him a general idea of the boy, at least for the time being.

He was surprised to see the ratty-looking girl rounding out the group of talkers, and with a joke of all things. Maybe he'd misjudged her as too broody, like most of the lower-class folks he ran into. But it didn't really matter, she went silent quick enough and he pushed the interest from his mind. Stubborn and shady until proven otherwise, he decided.

Shutting the tiny book, he decided it was his turn. He cleared his throat and stepped forward a bit. "Abbey Chessar, but Chess will do for short and for preference," he said proudly, one hand on the scarf around his neck. "Actor, debater, entertainer, and that's just the resume."