[center][h3][color=#d40b0b]A moment of silence for a fallen soldier.[/color][/h3][/center]

The receptionist couldn’t determine what was more unsettling; the fact that a student had arrived at the dormitory entrance complete drenched, or the painfully unsettling nonchalance painted on his face. The Academy decided that the boy had outgrown his training wheels and rewarded him with the privilege of rooming with another soul, yet another sign of acceptance from the institution’s board. Luckily he decided against unpacking since it would have been a hassle reorganizing all of those books. 

Now standing in front of his room, Zephyr took a quick glance down at the metallic key in his palm. The scribble that embodied his room number came off as provisional, as if it had been jotted down on the spot at a hurried, and under intense scrutinization, anxious pace. The only made his hold on the pocketed orb of darkness only tighten. Without further adieu, the student began the procedure by verifying whether the door was unlocked. Surprising thing was, it was. A minor seedling of perturbation cropped up as thoughts began to race forth. Perhaps the cleaning personnel forgot to lock it. Or… Worse for the outwardly distant kid, his roommate was home for the lunch slot. The infantile plant gradually grew as it extended its leaves and firmly dug its roots deep into his temperament. The elementalist gulped down trepidation and wrapped his grasp around the pristine knob. He felt the door click as the internal mechanism gave way, entrusting Zephyr his portion of the effort. He slowly pushed forward while images of various character archetypes gained from multiple reads uncontrollably flowed through his conscience.

The room was surprisingly simple, providing the essentials while simultaneously offering adequate space to cater to the young mind’s urge to express itself. He almost felt at peace, having slept in barns, trees and caves, the arrangement was more than a blessing. Save for the half-naked girl casually tending to a wounded book like a literary corpsman. This specific scenario was almost cliche, one his eyes have glazed over and reread many times over, his iteration of the self-taught [i]birds and the bees[/i]. Some characters played along, others retreated in flustered disarray, a few even spurred on the romance. Zephyr failed to do any of the above. In contrast to all of the listed reactions, he simply did not know [i]how[/i] to process the scene before him. [color=#d40b0b]”My apologies.”[/color] He announced as he calmly eased the door close, hoping that his existence wasn’t even noticed.

Zephyr’s gaze oscillated between the [b]106[/b] engraved into his key and the plaque on the upper part of the entrance. It was definitely his room, and subsequently the girl with pink locks was his roommate. The boy took a take two as he entered again, maintaining his blase expression to mask the internal turmoil his mind was in. [color=#d40b0b]”Greetings.”[/color] His monotone voice extended his salutation in place of his hand, since the girl was preoccupied with the work in front of her. [color=#d40b0b]”My name is Zephyr Heidrich. I’ll be your roommate for the remainder of this year.”[/color] He awkwardly adjusted his tie as he shifted his gaze to his left, instantly taking in his culinary assets. Although it wasn’t visible, the student was more than glad to have a quality set of kitchenware, though most would chalk it up as commonplace. Zephyr eyed the open bedroom and crossed over to place his suitcases in its door’s frame. He attentively open a case’s compartment and produced a small french press, [color=#d40b0b]”Um, would you like to talk over coffee? Bought some in the local town. By the way, what's your name?”[/color] The student asked, still unsure of what to make of the partially dressed girl. 

[@Liferusher]