[center][color=aba000]Orlan Price - Beacon Academy Ballroom - Monday Night[/color][/center]

While Orlan kept himself apart, the party taking up the center of the ballroom slowly died down. Some of the students fell into drunken stupors, while others passed out completely. Those lucky enough to be able to hold their liquor stayed up longer, chatting and drinking more until alas, all the rum was gone. At some point Orlan noticed the figure of [color=aquamarine]another student[/color] slip into the room, only to exit again moments later. It was only seconds after that that he decided that he should turn in himself. He would rise with the sun, and not be cursing himself like so many others. He did not get up to change, already down to only the pants he had worn that day. If his figure had drawn any looks, he hadn't noticed.

Spreading out on his sleeping bag, Orlan folds his arms up behind his head and closes his eyes. Having trained to be a soldier for much of his life, the low murmur of others' voices was no obstacle to his sleep. Seconds after his eyes close the world around him fades into oblivion, to be replaced by visions of glorious combat.