He watched, somewhat anxiously, as the glint of brass appeared on the distant horizon like a gleaming daytime star. The newer model airships were faster than the early ones he had known during the war, and he had no doubt the new arrivals would be landing within the hour. He had been Headmaster for over a decade, but he still hadn’t managed a way to resist the peculiar anxiety that always came upon him when newcomers arrived. Perhaps it was some remnant of the nervousness he had felt on his first day as a student. He smirked, waxing nostalgic as he watched the distant brass “star” grow brighter and brighter. It felt so long ago now, almost like another life.

Julian Westri’s gaze left the incoming airship for a moment, drifting lazily over a number of small picture frames adorning his bookcase. Most of them were relatively recent, but a few dated back to his early years at the academy. In one picture a much younger version of himself stood grinning between two girls, one smiling, one glaring. He chuckled, rising to his feet and taking the picture in his hand. They had all been so different then. Well, Miria still glared frequently, so maybe not quite so different.

The headmaster smiled, gently returning the photo to its place. For a moment, he looked over the other photos, his eyes lingering on an image of himself and a girl with light blonde hair. He sighed, returning to his seat. He eyed the pipe on his desk, a complicated looking device constructed of glass and gold. He tapped a rune that had been engraved into its side, and a flame sparked to life within. He took one of the long black hoses from the pipe, placing the brass mouthpiece between his lips and inhaling deeply. It was considered an odd habit in Cresia to smoke moonflower, but then, he was considered an odd man by most.

Blowing out a cloud of smoke, Julian turned his eyes back toward the skyline. The “star” had now gained shape. He could make out the shapes of churning propellers and flapping banners now. Down the hall, he heard an all-too-familiar voice belting out some painfully cheery tune. ”La la la la” He smiled and turned back toward the door, where the doorknob was already turning.

Linxi burst through the door, twirling as she entered. “Goooooood morning Headmaster!” The young woman’s enthusiasm was electric and, as Julian had learned long ago, endless. Linxi’s enthusiasm was typically a bit of a shock to newcomers. She was ghostly pale in hair and complexion, and her eyes were pitch black, as if her pupils had grown to eclipse the whole eye. Few could place Faeblood straight away. Still, it usually didn’t take long for her to overcome these difficulties.

She placed a cup of fragrant tea on the desk and smiled, her shiny black eyes dancing with light. “The new students should be here soon, y’know. You should be getting ready instead of sitting around smoking.” A faux-judgemental smirk crossed her lips as she looked out the window toward the incoming airship.

Julian let out an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll be ready when they get here.” He turned his chair toward the window as well. “I’ve been watching them for a while. It shouldn’t be much longer now.” His assistant nodded, bringing a finger to her chin.

“What do you think they’ll be like? I heard we have a lot of students from the other nations this time around.”

Julian nodded, taking a sip of tea. “I’ve heard the same. I’m sure they’ll be an interesting class…” He had read through the reports on the new students over the course of the past week. “Interesting” did not begin to describe some of them. “I’m excited.”

Linxi stood in silence for a moment, finger still at her chin. “I’m going to go meet them.” Julian’s eyes slowly cut toward her.

“What do you mean? Of course you will, they’ll be here in a few minu-” Linxi shook her head, cutting the Headmaster off.

“No I mean I’m going to go up there now.” She pointed at the great monster of machinery that was growing larger by the moment. “I think I can make it, don’t you?”

Julian raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Yeah, probably. You’ve really got to work on that patience though, Linxi.”

The young woman shrugged. “I’m… probably not going to do that.”

The Headmaster laughed. “That’s what I figured. Don’t miss and hit a turbine.”

He didn’t need to look to know that Linxi was already gone.

---

Kellin sighed, tapping his staff impatiently against the marbled floor of the observation deck. Most of the other students had made their way to the deck as well, anxious to catch sight of their new home. Truth be told they made him a little nervous. He hadn’t expected there to be so many other students… but then, what had he expected about any of this? Out of all the surprises, the luxury airship had been the most welcome. He had no idea how airships worked, but he was certain this one was an incredible specimen… though the catering on the flight might have influenced his evaluation. He wasn’t used to such opulence, and for the first few hours he had been entirely taken with it. But now they were nearing their destination. He had read plenty about the academy. He knew its layout and had even dabbled in its history over the past few weeks, trying to become familiar with what would be his home for the coming years. Still, he had no idea what to expect. There was a sense of mystery about Arkus, and that quietly terrified him as he stared out at the sea of trees beneath them.

The observation deck where Kellin stood was a beautiful piece of work. It was situated toward the bottom of the ship, and consisted of an extended deck surrounded by a glass sphere. The window itself, though, was actually made up of hundreds of tiny, hexagonal pieces of glass interlocked. They had been thoroughly enchanted to produce a high level of magnification, allowing passengers to view the landscape around them in great detail. To Kellin’s great irritation, however, the only things they’d been able to see for the past thirty minutes were the endless trees of Blackglade Forest and the still, deep water of Lake Lyan.

The boy huffed, still tapping the end of his staff nervously against the deck. He glanced around and the others. He hadn’t spoken with many of them yet. He was usually cautious around strangers… but here he was standing in a crowd of them. He pulled his jacket around him, suddenly cold. His fingers found their way to his tie, and began absent-mindedly adjusting it. He still wasn’t comfortable in these clothes, they had been given to him shortly before he left for the academy, and though they were of much better quality than anything he had worn back home he still hadn’t gotten used to them.

Suddenly, a collective gasp cut through the air around him, sending the boy’s eyes darting back to the window. It was then that he first saw it. The forest and the lake gave way to a wide clearing in the distance. The Tower of Lights stood tall, glittering in the morning sun. The many-spired administrative building came into view next, ancient and imposing. The Hall of Instruction, the Dormitory Towers, everything was just as Kellin had read. Still, for a moment it was overwhelming, and he couldn’t help but join in the general excitement of the crowd. They were really here.

The airship was a marvel of modern technology, perhaps the most advanced of its kind. Outfitted with all kinds of machines, transporting mankind place to place faster than they had ever gone before. Somewhere in that brass behemoth, a little distant from the throng that occupied it, in a quiet corner with few people around it sat the boy. His pale blond hair and clear blue eyes were quite eye-catching, and he was dressed in as fine clothes as a boy his age could claim. Yet there was an air around him that barred interaction. Perhaps it was how intensely focused the boy was on the massive book splayed across his lap. Perhaps it was the way that he muttered to himself every now and again. The boy sat in his quiet corner, oblivious to his surroundings. Just him, his book, and...

Cramming last minute like that ain't gonna help you now, kid.
The boy's face twisted into a frown of annoyance. Sensing the boy's shift in mood, the voice in his head continued.
Just great. You've been sitting here for what, 3 hours? Amazing.
"Yeah, sure. Just great, Mort." The boy grumbles quietly. "Say another word and see what happens."
In his mind the voice chuckles, and speaks again in a pompous, mocking tone.
I'm just trying to look out for my poor, talentless master. Nothing wrong with that is there?
"You'd be a lot more useful if you shut up." The boy retorted. "Besides, I've been making progress."
At that proclamation the voice erupted into laughter.
Yes, 3 hours of work later and you can read your book slightly faster! Truly a feat only the great Richard Ashfield could accomplish!
The boy slammed the book shut.
"Just shut up Mort." The boy growled.
The voice in his head chuckled mischievously.
Oh my daft master, don't you know? Demons don't wait to be let out.

Richard ignored the voice. Of course the boy knew that closing the book wouldn't silence the voice, and he knew the voice knew he knew. Nevertheless, he'd lost focus so he had no need to keep the book open. The voice had a point - he hadn't made much headway into understanding his parents' book in the 3 hours since he'd begun, and he was sure that he wouldn't receive a sudden revelation in the time it would take them to arrive at their destination. He'd studied the tome for the past 3 hours because he needed every edge he could get, and it was about as much as he could do for now.

Richard got up and dusted himself off. He picked up his bag from the ground and slung it over his shoulder before tucking his book under his arm. It was rather heavy but he'd long since gotten used to carrying it.
Finally, my master heeds my suggestions for productivity. The voice remarked sarcastically.
"If I could reach your throat right now I'd throttle you." The boy muttered.
The voice chuckled, Richard ignored it.

Things were getting louder in the throng of strangers, and he was sure he knew why. The blond boy pushed his way to the front of the group, arriving at one of the airship's windows. It revealed to him the shape of what would be his life for the next few years. Arkus academy, a stepping stone to his ambitions. Richard clenched his shaking fist, trembling not with fear but with excitement.
"We're getting closer." He muttered to himself.
The boy was getting closer to destiny. Closer to somewhere he hoped would help him decipher his book, and eventually help him to find his father. The voice harrumphed.
Finally in the right mood for it, hm? Well then, you best hope you learn faster than you study. Otherwise you'll be there for 8 bloody years.
The boy's smile turned into a sneer.
"Then you'll be here right next to me for 8 years, won't you? Oh Great Demon Mortimer."
The demon's voice cackled in the boy's head.
Of course, my glorious master. The voice said, dripping with sarcasm.
Richard couldn't see the demon in his head but he imagined the purple demon with an ear-splitting grin.
This lowly demon will stay with you until your end.

Callum felt nervous, staring down at the Academy and surrounded by students crowding the observation deck. It was rare for him to be nervous, really. And for most of the journey, he had been fine, mindlessly sneaking around the airship and getting lost in a particularly straightforward pathway. Twice. Though the second time it didn't count, because he was too busy being chased by disgruntled artificers.

It was the sight of the academy that really made the fact that he was coming to the Academy really hit home. It was much like the place he had grown to despise, stone walls and overarching towers and all. Though it had much less of the pretentious tapestry and opulence that sneered at visitors, being more grounded and homely. Still, He couldn't shake the feeling that he was returning home.

It's a place of communal development, the Judge had said to Callum. You will find people like you there.
Of course, Callum quickly pointed out that his parents reckoned that too, until they didn't. The Judge rebutted that Callum's parents were hardly right sample size, though Callum maintained his doubts. Then the Judge said that it was here or the streets. The message was sound, though delivery was a little bit hard landing.

"Well, guess it's too late to have second thoughts." Callum guffawed, then sipped from his flask. He'll just have to pull through, one way or another.

---

---

Zach made his way to the observation deck as word that they were about to reach their destination spread through the student body on board. The views on the rest of the journey hadn't interested him much; he'd seen similar sights hundreds of times before using his magic on his pet owl Sirocco. Besides, the amenities of the flight had been far more engaging to him. The Chaudoirs were not a poor family by any means, but their choice of residence in a more rural area had limited the luxury that Zach had been exposed to, aside from the rare trip into more civilized lands. Still, getting a glimpse of his new home wouldn't be unwelcome, especially if the campus was as magnificent as they say.

Zach shifted his way around the crowds and took up a spot near one of the windows, eyeing the spires of the academy as the airship approached. The thought briefly crossed his mind that he probably looked rather odd to the other students - his posture was rigidly uptight, almost militaristic, and he was staring out a window despite being completely blindfolded - but, he figured they were probably too focused on the school to notice or care. The architecture was exquisite, as expected of one of the nation's premier institutions of magical learning, but the view afforded by his blindfold made the view even more spectacular. Mana twisted from countless spells clung to the structure like a cloud, superimposed over Zach's vision like a colorful pane of glass when he focused on it. He had expected such a phenomenon with so many spellcasters present, but seeing it himself was a bit daunting.

No matter, the blindfolded boy wasn't here to slack off. If he needed to adapt to using his 'sight' in the saturation of mana present in this new magical environment, then he'd pursue it with diligence and haste just as he would any other academic task he was given.

---

The entire trip had been far too long for the young dancer. For the first time she was away from her homeland and she was definitely feeling the weight of her decision. Not that there was much choice given to her. After several months of minimal training at home where she'd learned more herself than anyone was able to teacher her, Xanara came to the realization that she had to go. She had to learn about herself and her powers. To master both or she may end up lost somewhere in space or time or both.

Still, on the ship she'd been in excellent spirits. There were so many new people to meet and she'd set out to meet as many of them as she possibly could. As always she carried herself with nigh perfect posture, poise and balance. But it wasn't any sort of hard, rigidity. No, she almost seemed to flow from one place to another, a fluidity that came with full command of her lean limbs. It definitely lent itself to making her seem far more self assured than she actually was at this moment. In dance she had always been confident, with her strange abilities, though, she most certainly wasn't. And seeing the buildings, they were impressive, imposing, oppressive. So unlike anything from her homeland, always light and airy even when they were larger buildings.

Looking next to her on the observation deck, Xanara couldn't help but notice the nerves of the boy next to her. A tall boy, one of the few people who seemed to be as tall or taller than she was. At least she didn't tower over everyone. Looking at Callum more directly she decided to continue with her general quest to meet everyone. "Hello, I'm Xanara. So, it's a little intense, huh?" She could mean the trip, the building or just everything and the upcoming experience. Still, she didn't lose her smile, the type that was a bit infectious if someone was willing to let it be. A practiced ease that came from years of performance.

@PigeonOfAstora

While others flocked to the observation deck, eager to see their new home for the next couple years of their life, there was one youth who didn’t rush there immediately. Indeed, this particular child wasn’t anywhere close to the observation deck, but perhaps his relative apathy towards the sight unfolding before his peers’ eyes was inevitable.

After all, he was Kress Alstein, son of the High Speaker, nephew of the Arch Governor, and, by birthright, the next heir to the Cresia family. His eyes were the amethyst of Cecilia Alstein and of the illustrious late Ambrose. The bracelet around his wrist could cause untold destruction with minimal effort, the piercing in his ear could communicate with the individual on the other end no matter what dimension they found themselves in, and the tome in his hand was well-marked and well-used, the hallmark of a hard-working student of the magical arts. His bearing itself was noble, pale skin and vibrant hair granting him the beauty of an eloquent youth, whilst his attire could only be considered top-class, fabrics imported from all around the globe to weave something that didn’t require magic to remain a paradox of qualities: sturdy yet flexible, warm yet breathable.

It was only natural that the son of such a prestigious bloodline deigned not to join the rubes gawking at the gem of Cresia. Even the most gorgeous of sights grew old with time, and as it stood, Kress had more important things to do.

Such as absolutely geek out over the artificiery within the engine room of the airship. Though he had burned away many nights reading up on the theory behind such creations, this particular airship was a wholly new model. Vulcan-class, it was called, the first commercially-accessible model that the famed Alunya Vulkina was truly satisfied with, enough so that they put their family name alongside it. Jets of white flame propelled it much faster than any of the previous models, while parallel weight-manipulation runes allowed one to quickly change altitudes. Thrusters on the sides, combined with stabilizing magic, enabled Vulcan-class airships to strafe almost immediately sideways as well, while also being instrumental to performing tight turns. One had to wonder why a vessel meant for transportation was kitted out to outperform the handling of lighter, racing vessels, but regardless of what it was, Kress simply wanted to burn everything here into his memory.

This, this was the sort of stuff he wanted to see in Arkus Academy. Full of prodigies, full of geniuses, full of people who’d be able to do amazing things, who'd be able to think up things he'd never even dream about.

Content to stay in the stuffy, smelly engine room for the remaining duration of the flight, Kress sat right there as engineers and technicians walked around him, occasionally eyeing the boy with sparkles in his eyes and a total lack of concern for dirtying his finery. He didn’t care, after all. He had a whole room full of these sorts of clothes back home, and there was no doubt in his mind that his mom shipped another carriage-load of these sorts of clothes into his dorm.

Which was still a bad feel, but for better or worse, Kress had become accustomed to his mom’s sense of fashion.

---

That was fast yet boring, this was supposed to be a vacation but after hearing her Clan Elders out, Yukie agreed to go to school in order to learn things she already knew but much more effective. Yukie is left questioning herself what did she lack? She is the Head of the Tsurara Clan, one of Verholt's top military asset and lauded for their prowess for battle. To Yukie, having herself in a school setting would go either way: advance her skills or regress much to her chargin.

What is so special about school? There's nothing. Everything Yukie learned from childhood and at the present was thanks to her clan's education yet she had the audacity to believe that things may change for her. She breathed heavily and began to think that this is a new life for her and all she had to do was blend in the crowd and explore her personality and find herself much to this consideration that she disliked but it's not like she had any choice. The only thing she expect of this hyped school is if their political subjects are of any quality. All of a sudden Yukie caught a view of the lake and quickly upon the beauty that lies beyond the horizon, there was so much to see that even words alone cannot describe, this made her realize that she's being too hard on herself and decided to give the school a chance, at least for a while. As she looked closely, she saw a boy who too was gazing at the beauty of nature.

"Beautiful isn't it? The sight that the eye captures, beauty beyond the horizon." Having approached the boy pushed her to the edge of her thoughts. She is a Tsurara and anyone would know that automatically considering the intimidating aura she oozes and her skin that is as pale as snow, long black hair, and eyes that seemed to be red as blood but when lit upon the light of the sun its color changes to azure, lastly her clan's snowflake insignia behind her jacket. Yukie hoped that the boy won't treat her like the people of her past and won't call her out for being a monster who abducts good-looking man at night.

@DrowsyPangolin

"Well, just a new experience, I suppose." Callum replied, and returned her smile, "Bit far from home." The girl who introduced herself as Xanara imposed a certain sort of confidence around her, like she knew to be here, unlike Callum. Had it not for the clothes, Callum would have guessed she was a staff busily ushering students to and fro.
She had a rather exotic face, clearly indicating her origins from far away. His family would have deemed her unpure, and just being in here would make them turn up their nose.
Which meant that him being here was just a middle finger to them. Maybe coming here wouldn't be too bad then. Yeah, screw it, old man.
Callum straightened from his usual slightly slouching pose, her self-assured posture a reminder to stop this bad habit. "I assume, though, not as far from yours?"
@Random Kitty

"I dunno if I'd be quite so poetic about it, but I gue-" The response had slipped from his lips before he'd even realized it, and certainly before his eyes had fallen on the young woman that had taken a place beside him. He stopped mid sentence and looked at the girl for a moment before nervously glancing back through the glass, the faintest glow of pink crossing his cheeks. He cleared his throat and by the time he'd turned back to look at Yukie his features had rearranged themselves into a delicate smile. "It really is beautiful, isn't it? Imagine what it looks like close up!"

The soft, sincere smile widened into a cheerful grin as he slowly extended a hand toward the strange girl. "My name's Kellin! Last name's Caen, but don't worry about that much, we're not a famous family or anything, so just Kellin's fine." The sun gleamed through the glass, casting warm light on the boy's dark brown hair. The warm lighting and the big smile helped to distract from his sickly complexion. His other hand still rested on his staff, which currently stood about waist-high, a smooth, featureless rod of shiny grey metal. Surprisingly, his anxious tapping had stopped.

As he talked, he looked over the young woman next to him. He pegged her for a foreigner immediately. The exceedingly long hair and snowy complexion had hinted as much, but the way she spoke and carried herself gave her away completely. "So what about you, what's your name? First time in Cresia?" He'd met plenty of foreigners back in Alst: refugees, travelers, merchants, he'd met all sorts of people from all sorts of places, but he couldn't place the stranger's origin... but he was still going to guess. "Let's see, you're from..." He brought a slender finger to his lip, feigning deep thought. A sly smile cut across his face.

"Hmmm... somewhere cold. Up north! Osuun maybe, out in the mountains?" He shook his head. "Nope. Surely not Verholt?"

While he tried to wager a guess out of Yukie's reaction, he noticed the stark shift in color as the sunlight struck her eyes. 'Well that's... different.' He imagined he'd be thinking that a lot.

@Indra

---

Xanara couldn't help but notice how the boy stood up a bit more. She'd noticed that people tend to do that because they feel self conscious. Not that she really meant to make people feel that way, it was just the way it was. There was the hope that her demeanor was enough to disarm any negative feelings. "Definitely something new. Not the first school I've attended that was away from home but that was a school for the arts not for magic." Even though, technically, she didn't manipulate magic in the same way as others. She imposed her will on space or time or both and tried to change it.

"Distance is relative, but, yes, I guess you'd call it pretty far away. Very different from here, that's for sure. The buildings are so cold, impersonal. So, what's your name? And what brings you here? I heard they take people with all sorts of abilities." She was curious, honestly. Her island was filled with Shamanistic magic. And then there was her, the anomaly. The psychic. Were there others like her here? Only time would tell.

@PigeonOfAstora

---

It had been a journey fraught with delay, of over seventy two hours of uninterrupted flight connected between several airships. From her station at the iron works to the Sakigorki Aerodrome of the capital and then into Cresian airspace, her new hosts had made a great show of their country to the foreign students. Perhaps, maybe, by necessity they had been taken all the way to Emersa to board the final airship, the one set out for Arkus Academy itself. Foreign students all of colors and different bearings thronged them there, but capacity was seemingly no issue for a Cresian vessel. There formed a clear divide, between the haggard foreigners plucked from their faraway islands and distant factories and the fresh faced youths of the Cresian heartlands, taking to the sky as easily as if it were their morning commute.

For Tatjana Kirigina's part, being a technician for airships didn't directly translate to any particular comfort with living on them for days at a time. Indeed, having a witch on your ship was an omen of the worst kind. Not for any kind of superstition, actually, just the simple fact that having a problem solver aboard meant there was a problem with your boat somewhere. Proofing voyages were necessary shakedowns of the Republic's military capabilities. They also invited the opportunity to pancake yourself onto hard permafrost while conducting altitude stressing, many called them the closest thing to a combat deployment one could enjoy in the postbellum. This airship in particular, was the worst she had ever sat down on. Too quiet, too smooth. It was as if the damned Cresian bucket had lost power at all times, so smoothly did it slide through the skies. So she found herself in engineering, where the engine noise was unmistakable and the warm glow of boiler faces lit the routine cycling of the ship's crew from station to station. Where the smell of soot and oil overpowered the homely scent of cleaners and perfumes that lined the public facing sides of the airship. All she had had to do was promise to keep that wrench away from anything that worked, and she'd found her place to sleep for the first time in a while.

Kirigina's wrench stood propped up against her while she sat propped against the bulkhead, nestled between two vertical spans of piping that had stayed mostly inert and cool during her slumber. Probably demand water lines or something. Only on a passenger ship would you find pipes large enough to hide a small child in dedicated to comforts. The bundle of a tattered overcoat and tipped down witch's hat probably went unnoticed by most after she'd first settled in, a softly shifting mass of rough fabrics that ever so often betrayed its humanity with a rough snore and a slight turn. The finest aircrew for the finest students labored with beauty, geniuses of their craft worked wonders out of an airship that was equal parts bold statement of Cresia's technological supremacy and humbling offer of the nation's highest comforts for a brighter, international future. Tatjana Kirigina snored so loudly she stirred herself, shivering out of a deep sleep as the vessel barreled towards its final destination. The brim of the bundle's hat rose up, baring a glimmering sliver of bleary eyes below, shifting side to side as they sought a clock on any of the engine room's walls.

Were they there yet? The shapes of the room blended together in her vision. Blinking rapidly, she settled on the overwhelmingly blue form of someone else caught up in the makeshift observer's gallery. Perfect. She rolled forward, wrench clanging onto the metal floor with an ear rending noise that she paid absolutely no mind to. She reached a hand out to the idle person, thinking to grab them by the shoulder and ask the time before an awakening fragment of lucidity spotted the obviously fine make of their fabrics. Aristocracy given form, she had seldom seen the glimmer of textiles such as the blue person's on even general-officers' attire. "Ah," A verbal, guttural realization of decorum, she looked at her hand to make sure it wasn't coated in oil before tapping him on the shoulder blade. "Uhh... do you have the time?"

@ERode

The clanging of the wrench against the engine room floor was simply more background noise to Kress’s ears, the cobalt caster preoccupied with jotting down all the details he could into his tome. Already, he had filled three pages of his tome with sketches of the room, and if he wasn’t so obviously a Cresian celebrity, he might definitely be getting stink-eyed as some sort of corporate spy, so detailed his notes on the glorious engine and pipes and magical circuitry and runic programming was. Indeed, his focus had already grown to the extent that the youth was beginning to forget where he was, and at the tap of his shoulder blade, Kress’s immediate reaction was to say, dismissively but not unkindly, “I’ll have breakfast later, Velora. Just set i-”

Thankfully, he wasn’t so incompetent to not catch himself before the sentence ended, turning around to face the tapper with an apologetic, roguish grin. “Ah, sorry ‘bout that. Force o habit, friend,” Kress said, “You wanted the time, yeah?”

With a smooth motion, he slipped his hand into his vest’s inner pocket to extract a marvel of precision engineering. Connected to a silver chain, the pocketwatch held in Kress’s hand was of gold inlaid with ivory and lapis lazuli carvings. They depicted generations of Alstein greats, a litany of beasts and runes carefully inscribed, and as he popped it open, the chime of runic energies powering up was a delight for deafened ears. Spatial magic shot upwards, an intangible line of energy that stretched up at the speed of light to calculate the position of the sun and the stars, the path of the planet itself as it orbited the great star that blessed the world with light and life, before the information returned and adjusted the clockwork of the pocketwatch to be accurate to the millisecond. Light magic surged out next, a holographic display presenting the time and date in numerals rather than with needles, while further illusions spawned from the display to note the weather outside: crisp and sunny. Everything about it was conceptually excessive and ostentatious, but somehow, in the hand of a boy of noble bearing who thought little to nothing of such toys, it simply seemed…elegant. Painfully, crushingly elegant.

Kress glanced at it for half a second, before snapping it shut once more, sliding it into the folds of his richly-decorated robes. “Basically almost 9,” was his hella generalized response, before slight concern emerged. “Don’t suppose you’re late for your shift, miss?”

"Oh, right. Name's Callum. Callum Perenias."
House Perenias was rather famous in northern Cresia, particularily due to their political ties with the Cresian ruling rank. After their contribution of arcane firepower in the Great War, they were granted much of the wealth and reputation they hold tightly today. They were known for their fierce elemental magic and pious intent. Unfortunately, they were also known for their lavish conservatism. Fortunately, Callum was already disowned and falsely labelled as a bastard anyway, so he couldn't care less. And to Callum's hope, "Perenias" wouldn't be known to Xanara. Or anyone in here, for that matter.
"I'm here because uh..."

1. My asshole parents kicked me out.

2. It's here or I go to the slums.

3. I want to stick it to all the doubters.

"...I want to learn more about alteration and dispelling to fight better." Callum chuckled at his own dilemma. "Yeah, let's go with that." There would be no need to necessarily hide his reluctant reasons, but no need to mention them either. Callum was thick, but he knew enough not to dump practical strangers with information.

"And you're..." Callum surveyed Xanara. She didn't dress like a mage. (Then again, neither did he.) He skipped necromancer and artificer. She leant on the more shaman-psyhic area. He had met very few shaman (shamen? Shawomen? He had no idea) before, so it was more of a blank guess. "Are you a shaman?"

---

Xanara had absolutely no idea who his family was. Her island hadn't been involved in the war, thankfully, A combination of remoteness and a complete lack of any strategic value. A little slice of paradise, it seemed. She wished all places could be that way.

"Why would anyone want to fight better? I don't understand violence. It is always destructive and we should all be focused on bringing something of beauty into the world..." She, so easily, slipped into the artistic philosophy that she was raised in. "Um, I get more than a little passionate about certain things." Actually, she tended to get passionate about a great many things. She tended to feel very strongly about, well, about pretty much everything.

When the conversation swung back to her she was kind of glad. She didn't want to scare anyone away, at least not yet. Xanara shook her head. "Not a shaman, but I was supposed to be. The eldest child usually is, but my younger sister developed that gift. And the training for shamanism on the island is one of the best in the world. It's woefully lacking in pretty much any other expression of power. I like to think of myself as a dancer, but the term psychic gets tossed around. I, well if you give me your hand I'll show you." She reached hers out, she may not have full control over when things happened speeding time to make the world appear to slow in relation wasn't difficult.

The crushed tip of her hat cut an arc through the air as Kirigina's head tilted aside, a curiously worried look dragging her face as she wondered if the blue boy was speaking a different language for a moment. The witch's hand retreated from him, clutching the brim of her falling hat before she nodded an affirmative. A force of habit, that justified all things. A cultured greeting she was not yet familiar with, or something she had dearly misheard. As she was inwardly thanking her luck to encounter someone both possessed of social grace and forgiving of her foreign ways he pulled out a pocketwatch. Her eyes drifted down to the device, and discovered that it was no such thing.

Kirigina flinched backwards reflexively as magelight erupted from the device into an ultimately harmless (probably) display of the local conditions. Even symbols for weather conditions seemed to appear, but before her eyes could adjust to its luminescence it was gone, snapped shut and stowed away without an ounce of flourish for an artifice that was surely more valuable than the village she was raised in. "Ah, that's a nice watch." Poetic praise carrying a respect for the hundreds of years of history, craft, and pedigree all wound into the time piece. Another slight nod for the time he reported. Sleepy eyes shot left to the door, then back to him. "Thank you comrade wizard," she had been in the middle of saying as he smacked her with his words. Late for your shift. A shrill ring pierced through the girl's senses, ushered in on the bomb blast of his line of questioning. Stone eyes went hard, locking with him with all the intensity of a death mask as the witch seemed to shrivel within her comfy wrapped up attire. By them an engine blustered, flames roaring within an iron cage. The spell broke with a blink and a sudden relaxation of Kirigina's whitened knuckles.

"Haha, no. No." Once again she held the brim of her hat, tipping the red streaked crest of her office down for show. "I worried we might all be late to Arkus, but by your clock we will enter landing approach maneuvers soon." She turned away and stooped to pick up her fallen wrench, cradling the overlarge instrument in a practiced carry when she came back around. "You are a student too, yes?" They didn't make officers so young and fancy... did they? Cresia could do anything, after all.

Callum scratched his head. It's one of those folk, huh. Callum did have his own views on the matter, though he wasn't eloquent enough to express it, and couldn't be bothered enough to have a sudden philosophical discussion. Plus, he was hardly one to be swayed by said discussion, so what gives?

"Just umm, think of it as self-expression." He said simply, and left it at that. Hopefully that should suffice and tide him over.

Psychics. He had heard all sorts of strange and rather unsettling things about psychics gone awry. Expending too much of their mind, throwing their own sanity out of wack. Subjugating people into living puppets, or just convincing them to do terrible deeds with a whisper. Probably all false, though his family loved to toot that horn.

And now, he was offered a hand by one he just met.

Eh, what's the worst that could happen?

He took it.

---

She shrugged. People rarely understood. Especially those who grew up in a place where conflict, where war are common narratives. Maybe she did have the luxury of having lived a life of peace and wealth and art. And people called them heathens and barbarians.

Instead, she figured she would have a bit of fun and when he took her hand she took a deep breath and the surrounding world began to slow. At first it was not all that noticeable. Like feeling a bit dizzy that things seemed off. But then the movements of people, of the rotors, of everything seemed to crawl to a near stop. She took another deep breath and pushed things a bit more until everything around them was barely moving. Although, to anyone else it would seem that the two of them were merely impossibly sped up. She could stop time completely but things tended to get a bit wonky when that happened. Sometimes she slipped in space. Sometimes she accidentally jumped in time. More than a few times it was a combination. Hopefully the school could help her learn to control all of those issues.

"This is what I do. I can control the flow of time. It's really useful when I'm dancing to create movements that appear to be physically impossible. Right now everyone else is slowed down but, to them we would seem to be moving as a blur."

Kress blinked at the sudden change in her expression, amethyst eyes widening at the flash of…hostility? Enmity? He peered with no small amount of curiosity at the crest that she showed, but if he recognized it, he gave no indication. A more well-read person may have connected the dots that lead this young witch to Arkus Academy, but Kress remained uncertain what exactly that was supposed to mean. State Iron Works? So…she was someone working in the ship?

So rather than mull in his perpetual confusion, Kress did what any reasonable young person with an excess of confidence and curiosity did: he asked a question.

“Yeah, I am!” he beamed, sticking out a hand to shake, “Kress Alstein, at your service. Sorry ‘bout that bit of faux pas, by the by. Figured all the students would be at the observation deck, really, and you looked like you belonged here as an apprentice or somethin’.” Kress took a breath from his rambling, before stuffing his tome back into the folds of his clothing as well, sticking the pen above his ear. “By the way, I don’t really recognize that crest, actually, so could you be so kind as to enlighten me to its meaning, miss? With something like ‘Iron Works’, I’d thought you were already working.”

Another grin, vibrant eyes catching the large wrench.

"With a tool like that, you certainly look the part."

Callum gave a low whistle as he watched the world around them slowed down like a flip book winding down to just pages at a time. Callum was impressed, he had to admit. He was expecting some weird trick like, "I can read your mind" sort of deal, but this was a surprise to be sure.

Sure glad she's just using it for dancing...

He made sure to keep in contact with Xanara (which he assumed was what let him be in this temporal distortion), but stretched above other other students and watched as someone yawned in slow motion, as if waking up from the longest sleep ever.

"Well, this does make me look lame in comparison, heh." He mumbled to himself. Though he had no intention of learning the secrets of this magic, it was quite a skill to have. He turned back to Xanara. "So can you do other stuff? Like speed up time instead?" He grinned and joked, "I am itching to see the landing soon."