Bizz's head fell limp against the pillow. 'Faunus.' She thought. That one fact was enough for some to experience things worse than any imaginations. It was something much worse than what Bizz went through. All she needed to stand was the pressure from her family. Lucas, on the other hand, must have experienced some more life threatening situations. 'Maybe I shouldn't have asked.' She thought, not saying a word.

"Don't feel bad, I've gotten over it, and pitying us is even worse." he said, closing his eyes.

Sarah had been discreetly watching Bizz and Lucas talk from behind her book. She couldn't make out what they were saying because they were far away but she didn't mind. She then closed her book and put it off to the side, she looked over at the candle then leaned over and put it out by pushing the wick into the hot wax. She was not bothered by the heat and proceeded to clean the molten wax off her finger before laying down and drifting off to sleep.

@HereComesTheSnow

Marsail Cirsium

The friendly, powerful clap took Marsail by surprise, but beyond a flicker of emotion on her face that could have been vocalised as an "eh?", she quickly managed to compose herself. She certainly did not expect for Conall to have gotten so friendly so quickly, but she supposed that their shared background of being Signal graduates did further the process in unfamiliar territory like Beacon. Even she was a little intimidated by the vastness of the campus and the opportunities it heralded. Just a little.

"See you," she responded in kind, throwing a short, friendly salute in his direction as she went down her path.

The first course of action was to store her blade. Then, it was to get changed.

She wondered why it was a ballroom of all places that they were to sleep in. That was definitely more communal than she expected.

Maybe it was a learning experience.

Conall Linumbienne

Honesty time.

The blue man hadn't expected the sheer thoroughness of how prepared this Academy, in all of its daunting massiveness, was for its influx of freshmen. Credit where credit was due to the monolithic school— They definitely paid attention to the needs of the people that were set to attend.

The door of locker shut with just the right amount of authority, followed by a single click.

Case in point— He'd just managed to fairly comfortably fit a lance of over two meters in length within the locker he had been assigned. Neither as Cróeb Ruad nor Cróeb Derg was the young spearman's weapon in any way compactible, by the by; a sturdy lance that could split, in his eyes, wasn't quite as trustworthy as some would claim.

But, all of that was a moot point. He had no need of the feature— and he was accommodated thusly.

"Sure as hell did their research..."

The process of changing was quick— little more than a set of fuzzy pajama pants was what he usually wore. His undershirt would remain slung over his shoulder as insurance, be it from the potential for cold or reprimand by whomever was keeping an eye on them.

And he knew for a fact that someone definitely was. The room was already fairly dark by the time he'd made his way in, with most of the other hopefuls having already drifted off to face tomorrow with all due haste.

Fine by him. As far as professions went, Hunters always had a very high distribution of girls, after all, and the nature of the beast necessitated they'd all be in top shape...

"Co-ed sleeping quarters." he said through an amused smirk. "No way they don't have eyes on us."

Needless to say, a bunch of cute girls with cute faces sleeping soundly was very welcome eye candy, and he didn't doubt that many of them felt the same way about the male contingent among them. Hell, at 6'1 and a lean 165 pounds, he'd probably have qualified even without the finer features of his face.

Plopping down in a suitably open space in a cross-legged position, Conall busied himself with untying the wild cobalt mane that had previously been constrained to a ponytail, listening in on the hushed conversations of those awake around him as his just-past-shoulder-length hair fell free.

A fair portion of them involved their hearts being put crossways by the pressure. Sure, a couple comments on appearances, a few titters, giggles, and snickers, but the mood was definitely still centered upon tomorrow.

Ah, well.

Seeing and being seen was about as much as any one of them could have reasonably hoped for with what was coming up. He could hit on cute girls and such on his own time— to lose focus here wouldn't be wise.

Not the time or place, buddy. One last hurdle to jump through. Can't screw it up here after coming all this way.

He flopped back onto his pillow, a thoughtful frown playing across his pretty face as his red eyes bored a hole into the ceiling.

Honestly, to speak of cute girls and coming all this way, he had to wonder how Marsail was handling this. Being the only person he'd really gotten a proper chance to meet and speak to, on top of being a familiar face, she was pretty much the lone other person he could have had any real stake in, one way or another.

Credit where it was due, even if she wasn't the hyper-professional and unflappable student that the rumors of her had foretold, she didn't seem the type to distract herself with eye candy, either. That'd probably leave her in a similar position as him—

He really hadn't much else to do besides wait for sleep to come, and to think about what lied ahead of things after.

Would the head start make it easy on her? Would she focus too hard on it and psyche herself out? Would her father's advice trivialize things, or muddy it?

Truth be told, he hadn't many friends here.

He had to admit it— He wanted her to perform well, too. That brief chat they'd had before Ozpin's speech had actually calmed him down more than he'd given it credit for. Despite everything he'd said and done, he was still— just a little, of course— intimidated by all this, and yukking it up with her had smoothed the transition out for him.

It'd be a shame if one of them faltered after he'd talked them both up like that, eh?

He snorted at the thought.

"Yeah, damn well would be."

He closed his eyes.

Not a chance in hell.

Marsail Cirsium

Marsail Cirsium was thinking about slumber parties.

Not that she felt like holding one or anything; she was moving out of the quine classification quite rapidly, after all. However, the sight of the darkened ballroom, sleepwear-clad students of all sorts resting in their sleeping bags on the floor, was one that she could not help but compare to the the nights she used to share with her friends and at times Èibhlin. The dull, whispered conversations between girls who were ostensibly supposed to be asleep, the quiet snoring of those who were too exhausted to socialise, the sudden pillow-based projectile that she instinctively moved her head out of the path of ... they fit her conception of a slumber party incredibly well. It should not have been anything surprising or important enough to note, but there was a part of her that took whimsical, joyful pleasure in being part of what seemed to be an incredibly huge sleepover.

It was almost enough to make her laugh, but she didn't want to wake anyone up.

They would be quite busy the next day, after all.

Clad in a simple pair of violet pajamas, the eldest of the Cirsium sisters settled down in an empty spot, rolling her bag out before quickly snuggling inside. It was still an overwhelming and breathtaking experience, being within the grand halls of Beacon Academy, but Marsail Cirsium felt content. She had made it. She was one step closer to becoming a Huntress. One step closer to becoming someone like her da.

So she wasn't worried for tomorrow.

The violet-haired girl closed her eyes, letting sleep slowly wash over her.

Her weapon was stored safely in her locker.

She wondered how Conall would fare; even though the lad was someone she was yet to be entirely familiar with, she mentally wished him luck, even if he would not receive it. He likely would find it unnecessary. But it was no matter to her.

Marsail Cirsium would sleep for now. And tomorrow, she would succeed.

The next morning, after breakfast, all the first years were lead to the locker rooms to gather their things in preparation for their initiations.

Lucas opened his locker and grabbed his katana. He drew it and placed the hilt into the sheath, transforming it into a sniper rifle, which he strung on his back, feeling it would be easier to carry around, and that he would need the gun more in the beginning than the sword. He then grabbed his ammo belt, filling it with fire, ice, and lightning clips. He double checked to make sure he had everything.

Sarah stretched as she was led back to the lockers. She was happy to be reunited with her gun, she loved her gun. She rolled it's barrels and smiled at the clicking sounds then nodded. After picking up a very large amount of ammo and hoisting her gun onto her back she looked around for any familiar faces, she might have spotted the cat Faunus' ears but she could be sure. She made no attempt to look for Bizz knowing it would most definitely end in failure.

She couldn't help but feel excited. What was going to happen in the first day at Beacon? A death race? Or maybe a arena match! There were so many ideas going through her head she could barely contain them.

Bizz stood in front of her cabinet, back in her casual outfit. With a little yawn, Bizz did a simple exercise to warm herself up. After the warm up, she grabbed Malice from her cabineyt. 'Back to fighting.' She thought. She turned the Malice into war scythe mode and inspected its blade. Sharp the way she kept it. With one good spin, she turned it back to shotgun mode.
Last night's joy went and pressure came back. She didn't want to imagine what would happen if she failed the test. With a frustrated sigh, she walked out of the locker room.

Sarah decided to investigate further into the possibility of her seeing the Faunus boy. She Walked up to where she thought he was and she had seen his ears. She did feel a little bad know that he was so easy to find simply because of his ears and the rather limited number of faunus compared to humans in the room. She walked up to with a smile "Hey we sorta met last night and I didn't catch your name. Mine is Sarah.".

She tried to be as friendly as possible, she was also interested in what Lucas and Bizz was talking about and if Bizz herself was alright. Sarah did notice a few familiar faces but she was more interested in making new friends. And hey it didn't hurt that they were adorable.

"Lucas." he said, adjusting the rifle on his back.

Sarah's smile remained Well he's talkative... "Nice to meet you Lucas. I got a quick question. How was Bizz last night? After you and her walked off, I'm just a little worried for her. She seemed nervous." Sarah was genuine as she asked this, her tone would have made that clear.

"She's fine, we just talked for a bit, that's all." he said.

"Well I guess I'll see you around Lucas. Thanks for making sure she was ok." Sarah gives a two fingered salute/wave and heads out towards the exit of the locker room. He doesn't like words does he. Ah well, he seems nice. And the ears! DAWWW-! No Sarah stop, that's rude... Sarah looks back at her minigun just to make sure it's ok then walks out of the locker room.

@LeamonZest89

Conall Linumbienne

Preparations were brief, owing to the seemingly paradoxical fact that preparations were, in truth actually quite extensive.

Years of training at Signal.

Years of honing his skills at home before.

Years spent mastering Luin Celtchair— The crimson spear was filled with the essence of fire, only one good burst of his Aura away from igniting into a furious blaze.

He brandished it, spun it, and tested its weight, inspected the tip, measured the dust capacity— everything was optimal.

Everything was ready.

The blade was honed to a razor's edge.

As was he.

He had been preparing for years— Nothing beyond confirming that everything was as it should be was left for him.

He would be no readier than this.

So now all that was left, in truth?

Looking alive and facing the music.

He exited the locker room, lance at rest against the lighter pauldron upon his shoulder.

His hair was back in the usual ponytail, but his outfit was anything but: Where before his dress was casual to the point of being unremarkable, now he was undeniably geared for combat, if not war. While his silvery pauldrons, braces, gauntlet, faulds, and greaves were light and had an extensive enough range of motion to not hamper his movements, they and the black gambeson beneath were fairly tough in their own right— the only truly cosmetic touches were the patch of white wolf's fur upon his more armored, left shoulder (where the protection went all the way down to gauntlets), and the cobalt half-shirt and chaps that occupied the space between armor and padding beneath.

A going-away ensemble from a local smith back home.

Something to wear when sending demons back to hell.

Aura was always the primary line of defense for a hunter, true, so you would be forgiven for thinking this change of clothes pointless— But failsafes hurt a lot less than they helped.

Drawing up alongside a tall girl lugging around a minigun— extremely tall, actually, sneaking an inch on even him, he rolled his neck and proceeded to make a familiar piece of light conversation.

"You sweating this at all?"

Marsail Cirsium

The Marsail Cirsium that left the locker room was not the Marsail Cirsium that entered.

In the short time that she had spent preparing herself for battle, the Cirsium heiress had undergone a radical transformation, her very appearance and demeanour having changed utterly since the night before. The grey woolen jumper had disappeared to parts unknown, its kindly warmth replaced entirely by a stiff, militaristic aura that was only cool professionalism. Her outfit was almost entirely black, ranging from her heeled, tough boots to her well-fitted pants to the gold-trimmed coat, its tail dangling shortly behind her. Her simple, reddish headband no longer rested upon her head, and in its place was a peaked cap of black and minute lines of violet, its colours a powerful contrast to Marsail's brightly coloured hair. Electric blue eyes, sizzling with intensity, watched everything around her in perfectly clarity, no longer trapped behind black-rimmed spectacles that had never held a true purpose.

Most prominently, however, was the wicked steel blade that rested against her black-covered shoulder. It was a weapon of relatively simple appearance, but its sheer size, coupled with the ease with which Marsail seemed to carry the sword, left none doubting of the dangers it could pose. It gleamed in the light, the sloping quillons of silver sparkling with every ray that broke through the clouds.

Her steps were powerful. Purposeful. Prideful.

Marsail Cirsium was here to become a Huntress.

To become a guardian of humanity itself.

Suddenly, everyone could hear Glynda's voice over the intercoms. "Would all first year students please report to Beacon Cliff for initiation? Again, all first year students report to Beacon Cliff immediately."

"Well, guess it's time then." Lucas said, heading for Beacon Cliff.

Sarah was taken by surprise when a voice seemed to talk to her. She looked to her side a a boy not much shorter then her was standing there, with a massive lance. This made her smile. "I kinda have trouble sweating under most circumstances. Nice weapon by the way." She looked up to its peak and couldn't help but feel like she'd seen it before. "You didn't happen to go to Signal did y--?"

She stopped as she heard Glynda's voice come over the loud speaker. She did a little fist pump exited for what was going to happen next. She the made a gesture to Conall indicating she wanted to walk and talk. "As I was saying. Did you go to Signal? Oh and the name is Sarah by the way." Her excitement leaked into her words as she practically vibrated with anticipation.

This was it. The start of a long journey that would end with her becoming a huntress. She'd been waiting for this day so long, looking over at Conall she knew that he had too. Then she realised how armoured he was, she felt kind of "under dressed". This boy was 100% armed and ready for combat. Sarah on the other hand was going to fight in a light green hoodie, some navy blue jeans and a light blue tank top that cut off before it reached her belly button. She was slightly embarrassed if she were to be honest, but she couldn't show an emotion like that at a time like this. Sure her clothes weren't perfect but hey she was about to undergo a massive test. She had no time for feelings of doubt or inadequacy.

Marsail Cirsium

The cliff, if Marsail recalled it correctly, overlooked a vast forest full of Grimm. It was something her da had mentioned to her before she left home, but she didn't expect the knowledge to come into play so quickly. She wondered what the initiation would involve; if they were going into Grimm-held territory as she was assuming, then why the cliff?

Was that the entry point?

That was more mental than she thought it would be.

Still, she would need to jildee up there if she wanted to make it.

The violet-pink haired girl shook her head, adjusting her cap slightly as she headed up towards the cliff.

Really, a cliff?

Bizz stared down at the forest that Beacon cliff was near. She walked immediately to the cliff when she heard the announcement, finding nothing else to do at the moment. She had no idea what the initiation would be with this little information given. 'I'll have to make my way through anyways.' She thought.