Vixi waved to each of her new member in turn. If she was honest, it felt good to be part of a new group, and one with such promise. She didn't know how they would play out in the field, but she had a feeling it would be seamless. She waved to her new team member, Delta.

"Hi there! It'll be great working with you in this upcoming time," as she spoke, her eyes continued to focus on his familiar, Eve. Finally she lost concentration. "I'm sorry, I've actually never really seen a familiar up close. She's fascinating." Vixi studied the creature, her eyes taking in every detail.

She turned and introduced herself to Grane as well. "It's nice meeting you as well, I can't wait to see us out in the field together."

She focused back on Robert. "It's fine, really. Honestly, I'll just get to know everyone as the semester creeps on. This is all great as it is. Are people here friendly? I'm not really...used to interacting with people for long periods of time in a social setting."

He blinked once. Twice. Very closely considered a third, in the completeness of his flummoxation. Caught in the cognitive dissonance between the complete nonsensicality of what she said and the complete seriousness of how she said it, something upstairs short-circuited. In fairness, however, this was both a natural reaction and one that to his credit, he was growing increasingly adept at suppressing.

As one who knows him might be able to guess, this was not the first time he'd heard weird things being discussed with utmost severity. In truth, it was almost just as much him being the subject that threw him off as it was the general oddness of the question.

"Er... Run that by me one more time?" he asked politely, wishing for little more than confirmation as to the subject at hand. "You're asking me about my hair?"

He'd heard brief mention of it moving in the past, but after two hours of staring straight into a mirror, he'd seen no sign of motion out of the ordinary when he tested it for himself. Having written further accusations off as people just not being familiar with natural ahoges and the physics they abided by, it was still nonetheless strange how every so often somebody'd ask him about it.

What's with my family and these things, anyway?

Unable to comprehend his affliction of stylistic choices by a higher being's shameless theft of an established work, Luke's gray peepers found themselves staring back into Gratia's frigid pools of onyx.

Gratia Mindaro - Cafeteria

He actually had no fucking idea. He had been legitimately flummoxed by her question. Had he ... never noticed that his fucking hair made a fatass couch potato seem like an unmoving object? That was ridiculous. But the sheer confusion Gratia could see on the other teenager's face, the motion of the lines and creasing of the skin; she was dealing with somebody who didn't even fucking know how their own body worked.

It was irksome.

"Your hair," she continued flatly, tone still unchanged even as her onyx eyes met that of Michael's gray, "it fucking moves for no real reason. Why the hell do they do it?"

Were they emotion-influenced? She wanted to fucking know. Because the huntress was going to understand the shit behind it no matter what it took. Even if Schwarz had no ability to answer.

"Have you not fucking noticed at all?" she asked, unwaveringly bored.

"I've noticed people tell me it happens a lot, but I've never seen it myself." he fired back, intimidated but not deterred. "In fact, the first time I heard about it, I stared at myself in the mirror for nearly two hours to see if it'd do anything."

And as it happened, two boring hours passed. Without the odd outstanding emotional stimulus nor Shinbou-inspired writing (okay, imagery) direction to produce a reaction, it simply lead to one very bored Schwarz son milling about his room before collapsing onto his bed for a mid-afternoon nap. Really, the only potential evidence he'd found towards the theory was one very, very brief instance where he thought his mom's might have done so, but even then he was mostly sure he was just seeing things then.

Even in spite of the accusations that the same was happening with him.

...Maybe.

Maybe it does move.

Maybe there's a chance.

A small chance.

"I haven't seen it happen with either of my sisters, either. Are you sure the thing being there in the first place isn't just messing with you? It is pretty distinct."

Whatever the case was, he was as stumped as to why as she was. After all, how could he not be? He'd spent so much more time denying its existence than actually considering the possibility, so why would he even begin to know? He was only human, he didn't hold the secrets of the universe in the palm of his hand! For Pete's sake, he still had twelve years to burn before reaching wizardry!

It wasn't a foregone conclusion!

"You probably just saw it in the wind. It was pretty breezy on the landing pad, remember?" he suggested diplomatically.

Gratia Mindaro - Cafeteria

There had definitely been movement both during their meeting at the landing platform and mere minutes before. Gratia knew how hair moved when exposed to the wind, her long, flowing locks of black and brown a testament to its effects, and the other teenager's ahoge had been far too controlled. It was irritating however, to learn tgat the source of her itching curiosity had no fucking idea in hell that his hair was some shitty phenomenon, nor did he entertain the possibility that it was.

"Your hair wasn't moving in accordance to the breeze," she replied immediately, tone shifting slightly to reveal an undercurrent of annoyance. "And it fucking mobile just now. There is no wind here."

In fact, if her suspicions were correct, then the source of the strange hair motions were simulated by emotional stresses. Was it an output similar to a regular human's facial expressions? The Mistralese teenager would have to commit herself to further observations to find out.

"I will test this," declared Gratia suddenly and without warning, though her impassive tone changed not one bit. "It appears to take action in correspondence with your emotional state."

There was utterly no point in doing this. No fucking point. But it wasn't like she had any other fucking hobbies.

"Was it? I didn't feel anything." he countered, sliding his now dormant scroll into the pocket of his uniform's pants. This was, of course, the absolute truth. With the logical assumption that if his hair moved, its motion could be felt as well-- as it would blowing in the aforementioned wind, for instance -- he was rather skeptical of the notion, despite her complete seriousness in her insistence of the fact.

"You're really interested in my hair, huh?" he muttered rhetorically, propping one elbow up on the table and resting his jaw upon it, feeling increasingly less put-off by her unique demeanor the more he grew used to it. It was almost like progressive exposure therapy-- systematic desensitization. Perhaps it was due to increasing familiarity with Gratia herself, but he'd save such hypotheses for Psychology, three periods away.

"I'm a bit surprised, honestly. I'd figure at this school of all places a strange sight would be mostly written off as normal. Especially something so small as my hair appearing to move sometimes."

Note that he said appearing. It was a very deliberate choice in diction, and I'm sure by now anyone deigning to read will understand what it's getting at.

I really don't think it is.

No matter which of them were in the right, though, that had to be at least more normal than the incident second period. And hey, speaking of this morning...

Maybe some things just get her going for some reason.

Like in combat class, when she fought Cian. It was like somone'd just lit a fire inside her.

That stoicism of hers that she had so often wigged him out with, especially in contrast with her aggressive language, has flown out the window. It was like she was almost counteracting that berserker side she'd shown...

Could that be right?

IC: Amaranth Desire, wishing the dwarven hammers smashing into the sides of her skull in search of Mithril would JUST GO AWAY

She'd missed history, she knew that... And she had a mind to miss the rest of the day and just stay in the blissful silence of her dorm room. Her pajama pants and shirt were extremely comfortable, and the last thing she needed was to open the package sitting on her desk and face the reality of another male uniform. She had enough of a headache as it was, calling up that idiot at the distribution office would not help at all. Nah, she'd rather stay right here, stay on ibuprofen, not face Chatsworth's YELLING.

But that DAMN ALARM was going off. And it was all the way across the room.

And after the crap she'd pulled in Combat and over the weekend, she couldn't afford to miss another class, and from a pragmatic perspective... She was getting hungry.

Amy rose up in bed, rubbing her eyes and grabbing the bottle of Ibuprofen off of the table near her, pouring out the maximum recommended dosage and swallowing the pills in one go. Her collar snapped back into place, but she wasn't getting out of her pajamas. At worst, the pants looked like yoga pants and the shirt was just an ordinary t shirt.

Screw dress code.

Screw uniforms.

Screw the DAMN DISTRIBUTION DEPARTMENT.

...

And screw that dang punk rock the kids are listening to these days.

***

Gratia Mindaro - Cafeteria

"Your hair could fucking burn for all I care," she replied tonelessly. "But not until I sate my interest in it."

The assumption that Schwarz' strange hair situation was associated with his emotional state was one based on very little evidence, the only sign having been the surprise on his face earlier. But it was a hypothesis that had greater basis than any other shitty idea that could pop up. And Gratia was going to prove that her hypothesis was correct. By all fucking means necessary.

"My dorm, straight after classes, " she continued, standing from her chair with remarkable solemn grace. "DoN'T be tardy."

And once again, she was the stoic Mistralese huntress, walking away into the crowd with nary another word.

Robert Fallson - Deli N'Doul

Robert gave the question some thought. No matter the response, his answer would be quiet the generalization, something he usually tried best to avoid making. Robert thought back to an old quote he read as a kid while loitering inside a local library. How'd it go again? Something along the lines of, 'All generalizations are false, including this one.' He was pretty sure the guy who said it was named Mark-something. Mark Twig? Mark Train? Mark Twai-

Robert figuratively waved the thought out of his head when he realized he had gotten lost in thought and still hasn't answered Vixi's question. "Yeah, from everyone I've met, they all seem nice and friendly. I haven't met a bad apple yet," he replied. Still, there were a select few he had yet to formally meet who might not be the best examples of this statement *cough* Gratia *cough*.

Violet Steel - Breaking a scumbag out of jail -

The VPD station stood on a corner between two streets, isolated from the buildings on either side by well-lit alleyways. Behind the station was where the majority of police vehicles were parked. The station was two stories, the roof had an emergency helipad, though it currently lacked a helicopter. This is what Violet observed from the roof of a far off building, using a pair of binoculars to survey the station.

Satisfied with her surveillance, she traded the binoculars for a bow, drawing a very particular type of arrow from her quiver and firing. The arrow eventually struck a part of the wall of the station, striking a meter above the front entrance into the station. She fired another arrow just like the first, it landed but a few meters across from the other.

Violet, her face covered by the gank mask, pulled her hood over her head, hiding her purple hair and faunus ears from view as she went on the move, she got a running start as she jumped off the roof and landed on another. She continued to do this till she the only think between her and the station was an alleyway.

With as late as it was, the majority of the cops working the night shift would be out on patrols or making arrests. There would still be some in the station to be sure, but Violet figured she could handle them if needed. She had the element of surprise. From her position she had a clear view of the back entrance to the station. There was a single door that lead inside, locked and secured. She wouldn’t be able to get in that way, not without someone else opening the door, but Violet was patient.

She watched the door, bow drawn and ready to fire the moment it opened. There was always someone at every work place that took a smoke break, and cops were no exception to this. She waited a good forty five minutes before she heard the door click. As the door opened fully she fired, the arrow flew until it hit the door with a loud clank, had she missed?

The answer was quite clear when a strange gas began to pour out of the arrow, causing the unsuspecting officer to start coughing violently. Soon the officer collapsed, her body preventing the door from closing as Violet stepped over her and went inside. Looking around it seemed she had yet to be discovered, but she knew she had little time. The holding cells were not far from the back entrance, she headed towards them quickly but carefully. She had found a pair of keys to the cells hanging up on a wall on the way to the cell.

As she approached the cells she found but a single man locked with one. This was definitely the man she had been ordered to free.

“Crimson Volk…” She said, clearly but quietly. “Come with me.” She unlocked his cell with the keys, before reaching into her pocket and pulling out what looked like a small detonator. “This will distract them, but we don’t have a lot of time.”

Crimson Volk - More Than A Scumbag

If there was an easy route to gaining physical power, Volk would not take it. What mattered was the power of the mind and voice.

He considered physical and political power to be two different things. A ruler did not need physical power as much as he did for political power. The human mind contained the deadliest arsenal that could trump the comprehensions of others. One could argue that the human mind was not a weapon, but something that stopped weapons from being effective. In a sense, the mind stopped violence through a non-violent force. For his early years, he used his mind as a weapon, but he now saw little value in doing so.

The mind was meant to simply lead a human being into making decisions they believed to be right or wrong, regardless of whether it was perceived to be right or wrong by others. Anything more than what a human could comprehend would utterly destroy oneself. He did not focus on destroying others, but rather, making decisions that would make others destroy each other first.

And his mind could just never stop thinking that.

The man in the cell stared at the wall in front of him. Dreams and hopes; he did believe that the dreams of others were valuable. No man or woman did not deserve to see their dream die.

Some just deserved it less than others.

And respectively, some deserved it more than others.

"There is no need to be concerned over time," Volk stated simply as he stood, readjusting his suit, "unless you didn't make a plan in the first place.

"Lead the way."

He wanted to see the ability of those who thought of this as a mere mission. He did not want to see the ability they saved for this mission, but rather, the raw extent of both their loyalty and diligence. The man took out a silver pocketwatch and pressed something on it before putting it away. It did nothing to the department they were in, but he still decided to turn the nifty device on.

After all, he needed to record the amount of time it took from now to the future before a plan in the future spirals out of control and goes horribly wrong. Not that he minded that kind of thing from happening.

IC: Violet Steel - Leaving the Station -

Violet didn't both to respond to Volk, she simply headed back the way she came, expecting Volk to follow her. When they got to the backdoor she dragged the unconscious officer inside so that she no longer was blocking the door, allowing the door to fully close once they were both outside. There was no need for the police to know which way they had left after all.

Once they had moved a good distance away from the station Violet activated the detonator. Though they could only hear it from where they were, the arrows she had fired into the wall earlier exploded. The explosions were not big, enough to shatter any nearby windows and cause some structural damage, but that was about it. It would keep the police busy for a while at least.

Once they were well away from the station and it was clear the police weren't coming after them Violet turned her attention to Volk. She gave him a good look over, she knew nothing about him, no idea what his motives were. Her first impression of him was to be very cautious, he was way too calm for someone who had been busted out of jail, potentially dangerous.

"The warehouse isn't much farther."

As always, lunch passed by quickly. The students' daily break for relaxation, restoration, and interaction with friends soon crumbled beneath the toll of the period bell. Everyone at the massive, sprawling hub in Deli N'Doul scrambled to gather their things, made a more or less enthusiastic attempt to return chairs or tables to their rightful places, and then beat it to their next class. Up next on the daily schedule for the freshmen was either Grimm Studies or Armory, as taught by professors Port and Chatsworth respectively, depending on what they'd signed up for. A five-minute time limit before the bell sounded to announce the initiation of fourth period did not allow for much time, but for savvy students time enough for any small endeavor could always be found.





With as much warmth as he could muster, Abel bid farewell to Krysanthe before heading off. On the way to Grimm Studies, he made sure to put a hand in his pocket to make sure the remote control for his weapon locker remained easily accessible. Last week's classes turned the acquisition of weapon and combat gear into a necessary habit. Bereft of any teammates or friends to talk to or walk with during the course of his journey, the guardian made a beeline for Port's modified lecture hall and arrived first. After greeting the professor, who heartily returned the sentiment, Abel went out onto the terrace and called in his locker. He wasted no time in grabbing his weapon, floating it to the side of him, and exchanging his student uniform top for a white t-shirt and blue jacket, which he also kept in the locker. Either he didn't think about anyone seeing him shirtless, he didn't care, or he wanted to show off. The ringing of the passing bell spurred his donning of armor, and in short order he felt prepared for whatever Grimm Port might throw at him today.

Cobalt walked into class with an excited look on his face. His brush with death was all but forgotten as he looked around the classroom/hall in wonder. The Grimm Studies at his old school was crazy exciting, he wondered how amazing it would be at an amazing school like Beacon! Would they bring actual Grimm to fight? That would be awesome.

Cobalt sat down at his desk (with some trouble, they really needed bigger desks) and gently tossed his backpack next to him. There was an empty seat on either side of him, but he had a feeling that nobody would be sitting next to him. The look on his face was less, "excited and ready to learn", and more like, "I can't wait to kill things and beat up monsters". The woes of being large and intimidating.

He had the sudden realization that he left his wallet with Oswald and cursed lightly under his breath. "I hope that he has this class as well, I don't trust myself to remember after this spectacular class." He considered getting out his Scroll to leave himself a reminder but it was in his backpack which was kinda far away. Probably shouldn't have tossed it.

Cian Kuze - Armory Class

Cian walked with a singular purpose while not the most glorious of choices her weapon needed constant checks for it to remain in good shape hence the reason she took this class. With a sigh she entered the class room and took a seat perhaps she should endeavor herself to open up more to her team and other classmates? Either way she supposed things had to change with that thought in mind she gently placed her briefcase weapon on her desk top and looked at it trying to figure out what she should try to do with it. If anything she should try to get some pointers on sword fighting since she does have a bladed rifle mode but she lacks knowledge on how to really use it in battle rather than just a distraction.

IC: Amaranth Desire of the Hungry Stomach

Amy trudged toward Armory, just 30 seconds too late to nab food from the cafeteria before the bell rang. Her stomach growled again, and she once more reevaluated her choice to step out of her room and face the world. At least in the room she had peanut butter and jelly, and.... Frankly, she did look like a wreck. Her red hair was mussed even more than normal, and the slightest sound was making the pain in her head spike. Not to mention that she forgot she was wearing a pair of pajama pants she bought when she was smaller. To be honest, they were likely a pair of pants from a cat-burglary outfit when she was in her teens that she had just appropriated as pajamas. The elasticity coped, but--

DAMN WHY DID HER STOMACH HAVE TO BE SO LOUD?!

She sighed, putting her fingers to her temples and opening the door into the Armory classroom. Hopefully they were going over something quiet today, like making paint still to metal, instead of something like blacksmithing.

Because she did not need Chatsworth yelling at her punctuated by the sound of hammers hitting metal over and over and over and...

Lauren Negasi

Well, SHIT!

Ben had forgotten to lock her inside the Cone of Silence!

Lauren had gone to check on Amaranth Desire and properly feed her during the last few minutes of lunch - leave Ben time to chat up Sangue, change out of her combat class clothing, maybe make it rain some pain pills into her mouth. She'd thought to find the Bastille dorms a place of tranquility and rest, with Amy tucked in and blessed concussive relief resting right on her nightstand. Instead she found the Ibuprofen far from its designated neutral zone and a particular red-headed ex-stripper missing from her bed. Sighing, she changed out of her school uniform and into a sleeveless crop top, striped black and white, black jeans and ankle-high boots. With the sleeves of her jacket around her waist, bleached leather dangling down her front, she felt sufficiently casual for the dreaded afternoon classes. Only there was no Amy!

And her bedhead is so fucking cute, too...

Lauren looked at the half-BLT in her hand, and the bag of chips she'd absentmindedly finished on the way here, then to the pain pills. Heh. Heh heh. She'd just swing a candy bar or two from her own suitcase and everything would be aces...even, dare she say it...bitchin!

Popping the first chance at headache relief she'd gotten her hands on all day, and dropping the chocolate-and-caramel second chance into a jacket pocket, Lauren stepped off to Armory - her first afternoon class, affectionately titled "Borden School" by her team leader after she first waved her axe happily around the BASL dorms.

I'm gonna put on an iron shirt, and chase Satan out of earth!
I'm gonna put on an iron shirt, and chase the devil out of earth!
I'm gonna send him to outah space
To find anothah race!
I'm gonna send him to outah space
To find anothah race!

The quintessential example of the best accent on the planet carried her all the way to Armory, which--

As it turns out

Could not be spelled without the 'A M Y!'

Jeez, she looked like crap. Sexy crap. Guess that came with being a stripper and all. But jeez.

Sidling through the door and wrapping her headphones around her neck, Negasi plopped down behind a table, next to her frumpy looking teammate, and dropped half a BLT with as little Lauren-tier pomp and circumstance as she would have normally mustered. Two candy bars found themselves sliding over, too, on very short notice. No drink, though. Being Lauren really worked up a thirst.

(As Ben loved to quip)

"Que pasa, Desire?" Lauren asked sweetly. "You got yourself a cowlick, girl."

IC: Amaranth Desire

The soft thump of a sandwich on the table made Amy glance up, Lauren's subsequent comment causing her vision to focus on the one abnormally large crimson spike sticking out in front of her face. Her eyes crossed slightly as a result, she tried to blow it out of her vision, then she shook her head and her eyes returned to normal.

"There are few things I can bring myself to care about right now, Lauren, and my messy hair isn't one of them," she said, her gaze falling to the sandwich and candy bars on the surface in front of her, her stomach growling as if to punctuate the attention change. "Food, on the other hand..."

She unwrapped the BLT quickly, taking almost too big of a bite out of it and making a slightly high pitched sound in the back of her throat. She smiled.

"First good thing I've had today."

Lauren Negasi

"Not a problem." BASL's new girl laced her fingers underneath the hair on the back of her head and yawned. "Just waiting for these meds to kick in, doe. My entire world looks like how a bass drop feels."

Lauren sighed and watched Amy eat out of some mild, zoned out interest for a minute before turning her attention back to the spike of hair. That was gonna bug her all period, unless...

woooooooooooo

Negasi pulled her finger away from the crimson spike of hair, leaving it merely first amongst equals in the crimson mess that was Amy's head. After eyeing it down with the wallahi bruh stare for a good couple seconds, she turned back to the table. Juuust waiting for the meds to kick in. Aaaany second now. ...Or maybe it took a while. After all, they kinda just...happened to make you feel good after a while, right? There was no real tipping point that she could remember...maybe she should keep a clear head next time. She might be able to pinpoint it.

"So," she asked, waiting in between voracious, squealy bites, "any of the rest of the gang take Armory?"

Sangue Naga - Lunch -> Grimm Studies

Sangue stared at her empty plate.

It seemed like they had to go take classes again. Time seemed to fly by whenever peace wanted to settle in. Then again, she was not in school to simply laze around. The red-haired swordswoman glanced at her team leader, then at the rest of her teammates, then at her leader again.

"I'm... taking Grimm Studies," she said quietly. "I believe we... will have to meet later."

The woman glanced at Ben. If she recalled correctly, he was going to Grimm Studies as well. It seemed that Amy would be following Lauren in this case.

@Krayzikk @Kaithas @Plank Sinatra