Glynwood Academy Grounds

_{Sunday, the 21st of the Third Pyric Moon, RY 3418}

Dreary summer rains dominated the skies of the Realm's northwestern coast, foreshadowing the end of summer and the encroaching chill of fall, yet above the caldera that housed the Glynwood Institute for Thaumaturgical Studies, the afternoon sun shone as brightly as ever. Such inauspicious weather simply wouldn't do to usher in the new academic year, and it was promptly corrected before the first drop of water fell from the sky. Between the parted clouds, great whirls of Ouranic mana descended before coming to rest in glittering magelights that danced just above the surface of the lake, illuminating the path for the incoming class as they rode the ferry to the campus proper. The nearest town and static teleportation point outside the campus, a quaint little village of humble magi called Pebblebrook, had thankfully enjoyed the protection of Glynwood's sphere of influence against the rain, and it was from here that the young spellcasters of Glynwood's freshman class departed by cart earlier that morning on their ceremonial trek to the Great Gate.

Despite the weariness of travel hanging over the students' heads, exclamations of awe and excitement filled the air as the ferry drew near to the island at last, and all were ushered off the boat and into single-file lines before three makeshift kiosks, each manned with a chipper mage and an enchanted tome to admit the new arrivals and assign them their cohorts. Beyond, a waiting crowd of human staff and golems alike sprung into action as they began the process of transporting student luggage to their new dormitories.

Across the courtyard, upperclassmen spared only a curious glance or two toward the gathering as they trickled in from an enchanted archway to the wide double doors of the feasting hall, mixed in with flashes of sympathy or haughty condescension at the new arrivals that had to walk like commoners. Once past the entryway, the freshman class was led not toward the hall with their more senior peers, but instead into a smaller audience room, decorated finely enough to match any Pontaion nobleman's ballroom. Motes of flame traced lazy circles through the air above, lighting what the magnificent stained glass windows could not. A string quartet's gentle tune carried across the room above the chatter of students and staff alike, originating from a set of rune-etched instruments that levitated in place as they played of their own accord. Tables of refreshments lined the walls, leading to a grand stage at the far end of the room, where several magi stood in idle boredom before commencement of the opening address. Dedicated followers of obscure academia or Glynwood personnel might recognize a few, but only the most isolated could possibly miss the man standing center stage. Second Battlemage Renault Auristel had graced the assembly with his presence, distracted though he might've been in a quiet conversation with a quaintly amused looking blonde woman some might recognize as Vice-Chancellor Victoria Charbeneau.

This fact did not go unnoticed; between the assemblies of Cohorts Seven and Eight, a spirited discussion raged between two chatty students.

"D'you hear that rumor about Professor Charbeneau and Auristel?" The boy from Cohort Eight asked in a conspiratorial stage-whisper, "I didn't believe it, but look at that."

"I dunno," the other student, Blake, answered skeptically before he whirled around to tactlessly accost a nearby young mage with cerulean hair and oversized glasses, "Hey, Theo, are Charbeneau and Auristel fucking?"

The bespectacled mage seemed to wither at the question. "Please don't ask me about his sex life, he's like an older brother to me."

"So yes."

"That is not what I said," Theo bristled in response, but Blake had already turned back to his theorizing.

"Oh, let the boys gossip," a nearby girl chimed in, "It's not true, anyway. Riiiight?"

Unfortunately for her, Theo offered only a weary glare in lieu of a response. Dionysia shrugged innocently and turned her attention back to the stage, where a lanky man with a spring in his step made his way across at last. A sudden silence fell across the room - the music stopped, and the conversation died down to muted whispers almost immediately. Not on the part of the student body, however; anyone still talking would find their voice greatly muffled, even if they were to scream as loud as they could.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I think everyone's arrived, and I'd hate to keep you any longer than I have to," the recent arrival to the stage chirped exuberantly, his voice carrying across the room despite - or perhaps because of - the enchantment acting upon the student body. "I am Chancellor Albrecht Nortwin, and I would like to be among the first to formally welcome you to the Glynwood Institute for Thaumaturgical Studies! For the first in many years, we once again have the honor of hosting students from every corner of our great nation and, as ever, I see before me a sea of potential. I'm sure you've all heard of some changes to our curriculum this year, but make no mistake; our commitment to the education of the Realm's finest minds remains as firm as ever. And, on that note, I'd like to take a moment to thank Second Battlemage Renault Auristel for his generous acceptance to teach at our fine institution."

The rest of the staff members politely clapped as Auristel bowed for the crowd, which provoked swooning looks and thinly-veiled glares from the incoming class in equal measure. This fact didn't seem to go unnoticed by Chancellor Nortwin, whose face slipped into a pensive frown for but a moment before it sprung back to its prior enthusiasm.

"In these tumultuous times, I believe it's more important than ever that we remember the ideals of our founder, Theodoric Glynwood, who urged us to put aside our differences and petty politicking and stand together as magi, that we may build a brighter future for the Republic through education," Nortwin continued, a bit more solemnly than before, "So, when you look upon your classmates and those in your cohorts, I urge you to dwell not upon the conflicts of our past, but on the future that you wish to create instead. Thank you." Once again, the staff politely clapped, along with the majority of the assembled students. It was plain to see from a couple of the faces in the crowd that not everyone found the sentiment of the speech particularly inspiring, and more than a few grumbles of 'necromancer' and 'traitor' could be heard floating around underneath the cacophony of clapping hands.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to come up with another speech for your upperclassmen," the chancellor followed up tactlessly, "Vice-Chancellor Charbeneau, if you would?"

The woman in question merely sighed as Nortwin departed at a hurried pace. Her lips moved as though she had mumbled something, and Auristel barely caught himself from letting out an amused snort as Charbeneau made her way to the front of the stage.

"Thank you, Chancellor. It certainly is hard to follow a speech like that. Students, make sure to see your cohort overseers before you leave for information about your dormitories." As Victoria spoke, several professors descended from the stage, one for each of the assembled cohorts. A bored-looking man with wavy black hair took his place before Cohort Seven, passing a critical glance over the students under his charge before his attention drifted back to Charbeneau.

"Members of the staff will also be standing by to help acquaint you with the campus and answer any questions you may have. You'll find your student handbooks and class schedules already delivered to your rooms. Classes start first thing tomorrow morning, but until then, please feel free to mingle and enjoy yourselves for the rest of the day. Once again, on behalf of all of us here at Glynwood, I'd like to congratulate you all on your acceptance and welcome you to our academy. Thank you."

Upon their dismissal, the crowd dispersed; some eager to be the first to greet their new cohort leaders, others more concerned with the tantalizing spread of food that they'd been so rudely denied upon entry. Whatever magically induced silence had taken hold of the hall before was gone, and the air was once again abuzz with chatter and music.

---

The final day in Pontaion was somber, sobering for Apollo. Surrounded by his family- both blood and bond- he put on an air of pride for the small audience that gathered to see him off. He had given his temporary goodbyes to each one of them, the least of which not being his own mother Freyalise as she pulled herself away from the teleportation circle in which he stood. Operating this circle was a simple task for the expert mage that took posture between him and his mother, and as the historian performed his incantation, Apollo looked upon this man with a silent nod of gratitude. A thanks not only for whisking him away, or for composing the letter that secured him a place at his destination. He thanked Ezeras for all of the support the Ekkenhart family provided for the last two of the Sophos name.

The young student drew in his breath, closed his eyes, and let his mind wander. When focus had recoalesced around him, his new view was that of the through-town of Pebblebrook. The sounds of gentle waves bid him to about-face and find the ferry upon which he would make the final leg of his venture. The letter aided him in boarding the ship, and he took in the faces of his would-be classmates and companions as more bodies joined for the ride.

Apollo wasn't a stranger to living under weather changing magic, but even his childhood in the climate-controlled city of Tythrae didn't prepare him for the spectacle he'd marvel at as the ship set unto the waters. Upon witnessing the gloomy clouds make way for the elegant sunlight above, his eyes grew wide in amazement. A bright smile plastered across his face as the school that would make his new home came into view, presented in all its opulent glory. The downdraft of Ouranic magical energy only helped electrify his mood with energy, filling through him as it did the dancing lights that fluttered throughout the sky and across the lake. Anyone who looked upon him would see one giddy mageling, not enough to bounce off the walls, but one who was clearly optimistic about the year ahead.

Upon arrival at the campus island, Apollo's bewildered sight-seeing would continue as he and his fellow freshmen were led into the small gathering hall, and having coagulated with his assigned cohort by now, was unable to avoid hearing the banter that some of the students already seemed to involve each other in. An affair amongst the teachers certainly wasn't the first thing he expected to hear, but an institution run by the gathering of some of the most powerful mages- both politically and magically- it didn't exactly surprise him either. Being the ever extrovert he was, he leaned in toward them with a friendly smile. "Hey there," he greeted. "It seems like we're in the same class group, so... my name's Apollo. Nice to meet you!" As he introduced himself, he familiarized himself with the faces of his new classmates. "Do you three already know each other? It must be nice to already have some friends right out the-" If any of those he spoke to were paying him attention, they likely would have caught his mouth forming the word "gate," but heard no sound as the silencing spell washed over the crowd and music to make way for the formalities to begin.

Apollo was taken aback with a slight confusion at first, but as the Chancellor began to speak, his head turned to face their headmaster and understanding found him not long after. Unfortunately, he also picked up on the slight dissent that seeped through both the student body and the faculty like a thinly veiled miasma. He shook it off as best as he could and focused on the words of the head of staff, as well as the instructions of the Vice-Chancellor that followed. As the ceremony seemed to end as suddenly as it began, and the volume of the hall returned to its previous levels, Apollo spared a glance at the black-haired man who would oversee his cohort before returning to the other students he was addressing. "Huh, that was a bit dry for a welcome ceremony, don't you think? Oh! And I didn't catch your names before, again I'm Apollo," he repeated with a bit more decorum.

Iris had lodged in a humbled residence to await the opening ceremony for the Institute. The owner was apparently one that her mentor, the father of her church, had saved in the past - they insisted that letting Iris stay until the ceremony was the least they could do. Truly, Iris saw it as a testament to the Worldsoul's teachings: A good deed springing forth further kindness.

She had an uneventful - perhaps peaceful - trip to Pebblebrook. It gave her time to reflect on what her mentor had told her. The place she was going was far removed from her peaceful temple. There were people and forces at work that she wouldn't understand. Iris was nervous, of course. She knew that the whole reason she was even coming to this institute was because of her... gift? It was a gift, of course. She just had to figure out how to use it. That was what her mentor had told her, and it was what gave her the courage to venture out to Glynwood.

---

On the approach to Glynwood, Iris took a moment to pray to the Worldsoul. It was what she did to stave off nervousness, and it was something she found herself relying on in the moment. '...I thank the Worldsoul for the rain, that it may bring life to crops and wildlife...'

After further praying for the people of her village, and of course the cart driver that brought her to Pebblebrook, she opened her eyes... To see the rays of the sun washing over the land. 'Ah. I thank the Worldsoul for this... beautiful clear day, I mean. May its light enervate the hearts of all living things.' She amended her internal prayer. She had been told about this, but some part of her was amazed that it could happen - the weather changed by the work of magic. Iris only could hope that she would one day be able to create such beauty with her own hands.

---

Iris shuffled into the audience room with the other entrants, barely containing her amazement. She had never seen such a lavishly decorated area, with so many people at once. It was almost overwhelming with its color and sound, compared to the comforting presence of her home's temple. She absentmindedly touched the fabric of her scarf, trying to just focus on walking to the right area and listening to the speeches of the staff members.

There was some chatting amongst the students that she didn't quite understand - about two people doing something? Iris didn't get what they were saying. She at least understood the speeches from the staff members more clearly. She thoroughly enjoyed the chancellor's speech. She thought it was a wonderful idea, working towards a bright future. It was exactly what she was hoping to do.

"Ah, what a beautiful speech..." Iris said aloud, clasping her hands together as she watched the groups of students mingle and separate into groups. Perhaps things would turn out well after all.

Iris found herself drawn to the outside edges of the auditorium, following the sounds of music and the smell of... Something delicious. She was amazed at the amount of food on display - she had never seen that much, even when the temple was feeding the people of the village. Most amazingly, they had meat out, and in such a quantity! It wasn't at all what she was used to.

Iris nearly reached out for the food, before stopping herself. It certainly looked delicious, but she had to hold back. Looking around at the others, so many of them had not eaten yet. There were likely so many others that needed to eat before her - otherwise they would not have set out so much food. For the sake of making sure the needy among Glynwood got the food that they needed, she would hold back until she saw that everyone else had ate their fill. Just as she did in the temple.

She just had to wait. She absentmindedly stroked her decorated scarf, stealing glances at the food before catching herself and averting her gaze. She nearly jumped with surprise when someone among the group of students introduced themselves to her. "Blessings of the Worldsoul upon you all," Iris gave a modest curtsy, regarding the others with a gentle smile, "I am Iris. Iris Myristikos."

Gossip. Idle chatter. Things potentially seeded among them partly in-place by older students trying to get them to spout things in front of the teachers. Whatever the case was, it was nothing that Sera herself paid much attention to. Well, paid attention to 'much' to being the key word there. It was certainly a wait for the initial address to the students to begin, and admittedly the girl found herself listening with bent ear to the whispers going around. Auristel, the Second Battlemage, and the Victoria Charbeneau? Really? Was that the best an older student or peer had to toss to them in the way of made-up gossip?

She would turn to the mage that the little cospiracy theorist had called 'Theo', someone from the next cohort she surmised, trying to politely get his attention with a soft smile before speaking to him.

"They are just dirty little rumors, nothing more. Perhaps from upperclassmen trying to get someone to say something stupid here or to a teacher at that. Doesn't make such things any less tasteless though."

She felt bad for the boy, though she had no idea why the other student had asked him about the rumor in particular. She hadn't heard of any siblings of the Second Battlemage ever coming to join this year. Ah. Whatever the case, as soon as the talking and whispering and so forth suddenly was cut off Sera's eyes came up to the stage to see the face of the Headmaster himself up there. It was almost amusing to see a few peers attempt screaming at the top of their lungs but only achieving silence, as childish as such as thing was, though her ears dreaded when the spell would eventually be lifted again even if it didn't show on her face and in her expression.

Still, the tactless man seemed to have more to him than met the eye. That much her gut instinct was telling her for sure. Placing a silence spell over a whole room, the confidence in which he was on the stage, his dress and manner of appearance, all were among things that seemed to give her the impression of there being something 'peculiar' about him. She wouldn't doubt he was a highly skilled mage either, though, and that was for certain unless proven conclusively otherwise in her own mind.

Once the spell was lifted, and the Headmaster gone to formulate another ad hoc speech for the older students, Sera would turn her attention to her own Cohort's overseer. Certainly not someone who looked as if they volunteered for the job, if his expression was of any indication, but all the same she did have a few questions to ask of the man as well. Just a few things about campus, such as visitable locations, where to find office hours, and that sort of thing...well, at least in the basic sense. She could ask more later, she figured, so a few basic things to start would suffice then with haste so she could get over to the food. Could already smell the divinely cooked meats and other array of dishes...mmm~ She could barely wait as her stomach was already growling with anticipation.

Yet as she walked over to the overseer of Cohot VII she would find herself seemingly beat to the punch, perhaps in part after having to push through the crowd of her peers that was bolting for the free food. He seemed to be a tall yet bored-looking person himself, with short blond hair and blue eyes to go with it. Something about him felt grating to her, perhaps it was how soberly he seemed to drag himself over to the overseer in her eyes, but at the same time it wasn't what mattered in the end. She would take her silent if not somewhat relaxed place near the overseer, to that end, to ask what she wished to after this other boy was done with his own question.

The night before found Luc hitchhiking into Pebblebrook on the back of a merchant’s cart, yawning and rubbing his eyes as a sharp rap on the side of the wagon roused him from his nap. His bag was nestled away in the back and he fished it out as the wagon’s owner chatted in his ear about something or another, but honestly Luc was ready for a bed to lay his head in so everything just went in one ear and right out another. A quick round of thanks, a meal, and a few rounds of just one more story, and Luc stumbled his way to bed, finally succumbing to the exhaustion clinging to the edge of his consciousness.

Of course, a life of early waking didn’t disappear over one late night, but even the most stubborn tendrils of sleep vanished on the ferry as it passed through the glittering lights. Filled with child-like wonder at the sight, Luc couldn’t keep himself still on the ferry and tried to catch the lights hovering over the water like fireflies, stretching his hand over the edge to reach what he could. Just seeing them served as a reminder that he, Luc Dilore of all people, was here to learn magic. Even the sharp pinch he gave himself (he still wasn’t convinced he wasn’t dreaming) didn’t diminish the goofy grin on his face as they approached the island.

“Oh, you don’t- I can carry mine, really it’s fi- No, please rea… And they’re gone. Cool, cool, cool.” Luc held his hands up in surrender as the two bags he brought were promptly removed from his possession and whisked away ahead of him. The brief glances from the upperclassmen made him adjust his school uniform awkwardly, if only because it was nicer than anything his family would typically wear. Even their nicer clothes were, as his ma would say, well loved but still plenty nicer than their field wear. But Luc felt like the fabric didn’t quite sit right on him, especially with some of those around him having altered it in some way. Should he have done that? What would he have even done? He’d normally just felt like clothes were clothes, a way to keep a person decent and provide some protection from the sun and the bugs and the nasty thorns and sharp branches, but here, they felt a little more important.

“Whoa…” Luc’s eyes grew wide stepping into the audience room as he spun in circles, unable to decide where to look first. The fire motes (yes he wanted to touch one. No, he would not. He was a commoner, not an idiot!) caught his attention first and then the soaring stained glass windows and then the enchanted instruments and then to the food. His mouth watered at the sight, his stomach making its interest known loudly enough that he apologized to those closest to him with an awkward laugh. “Just a little longer and you will be mine.” Luc promised the spread when he noticed they weren’t allowed to get any yet, before his attention was again on the splendor in the room.

Everything looked fancy, everything looked expensive. Luc suddenly felt very out of place again. Briefly distracted by the wonders around him, he came to the sharp realization there was probably more money in the expensive decorations and stunning art than his family would get in a year, or even five, and that thought made him freeze up. What if he broke something here? Would he have to pay for it? How would he even pay for it? They wouldn’t make him pay for like, a normal thing, right? They were mages…Couldn’t they just magic it back together or something? It was fine; if he broke something, he’d just run for his life and live out as a recluse like Granny until they forgot he owed them money! Perfect plan, no possible flaws.

The fall of silence over the crowd brought him back into the room and he turned as the Chancellor spoke. Second Battlemage Auristel, huh? If the silencing spell hadn’t been woven into place, Luc would have been tempted to ask how many families the Battlemage had torn apart, displaced at the behest of his masters. How many magicless folk suffered at his hand because they couldn’t defend themselves against whatever onslaught the tyranny of the Heptarchy demanded. This Battlemage was little more than a glorified dog- just waiting for his masters to snap their fingers like all his kind.

Actually, they might be an insult to dogs.

At the end of the day, it didn’t matter really. The Heptarchy won, the matter resolved, and the case closed. Luc shrugged off the dissatisfied slant of his mouth and embraced the excitement of the day instead, especially as the speeches finally dwindled down and he shot like an arrow from a bow at the table, not above shouldering a few people to get to it. A heavily ladened plate later and a content hum of appreciation as he chewed on whatever was easiest to show in his mouth first, he drifted back to his cohort overseer. One of his Cohort members was already there and another one was already waiting, but Luc was itching to explore and if he could just get a finger in the right direction, he’d be out of everyone’s hair. Though, irritating people in a place he had no friends in may be a poor decision and he grimaced at the twinge in his ear from how often Ma had grabbed it when she was cross with him. He dutifully shoved another morsel in his mouth and waited to cut into the conversation, allowing himself to marvel instead at everything in the room.

Glynwood Academy Grounds

_{Sunday, the 21st of the Third Pyric Moon, RY 3418}

---

The trio of students opened their mouths at Apollo's prompting, but it was too late; they'd already been ensnared in Nortwin's spell. Theo turned his attention dutifully to the stage, followed by a puzzled Dionysia shortly after. Blake, however, spent the better part of the speech with his brows furrowed in frustration, trying to no avail to produce noise above a strained whisper. When their voices were finally returned to them, he let out an irritated huff.

"Finally. At least they didn't make the battlemage give a speech," Blake grumbled, "We'd be here all day."

Eager to avoid anymore prying questions that might come up from the mention of battlemagi, Theo straightened his posture to something more fitting of a high-status mage as he turned to Iris and Apollo. "Theophilos Se-" Whatever confidence he'd conjured had apparently melted away barely a word into his introduction, and he cut himself off with a sheepish downturn of his gaze. "Err, just Theo's fine. My parents are a little archaic with their naming," he chuckled nervously as a hand came up to nudge his glasses back into place, "Nice to meet you."

Blake promptly raised a bandaged hand in greeting, his earlier whining forgotten in favor of acquainting himself with the rest of the Cohort. "I'm Blake! And to answer your earlier question," he gave an acknowledging nod toward Apollo, "The three of us shared an inn with a couple of the other newbies in Pebblebrook, that's all."

"Yeah, there's really not much to do in that town, if you hadn't noticed," the brunette chimed in next, "Might as well get to know everyone around the fire at night, y'know?" Her gaze drifted off toward the crowd that had formed before their cohort's leader. "Oh, we can do that here too! I think it'd be fun- wait, I forgot to introduce myself! I'm so sorry! Dionysia Abernick, at your- I mean, pleasure to make your acquaintance! And Iris, I love that scarf, is it homemade?"

@Light@Crowvette

---

Meanwhile, Professor Varen Galenos seemed far less enthusiastic about greeting his new cohort. Or maybe Phoebus' question had already ticked him off. A critical eye passed over the blond, as if Varen meant to appraise the true intent behind the inquiry before he answered. After a moment, he simply sighed in resignation and went with the textbook answer.

"The deeper tunnels that lead to the subterranean portions of the old city are off-limits and entrances to such sections are clearly marked, if not blocked off entirely," he explained humorlessly, "If you turn down a corridor and the magelights aren't on, that's usually a good indicator you should turn around. There's plenty of old rocks for you to look at in the accessible parts of the ruins, so please, for your own safety, don't be difficult." It'd be on his head if some idiot first year was found under a pile of rubble in the middle of the Atryan sewers, after all.

The troublemakers started earlier and earlier every year, he swore.

Varen's attention drifted toward the nearby Seraphilla and newly-arrived Luc rather than entertain any follow up questions Phoebus might've mustered, offering an expectant arch of his brow in favor of a greeting. If they were polite enough to wait their turn, maybe he wouldn't have to watch them so closely. In fact, most of the cohort looked responsible enough, minus one or two outliers.

@Hero@Crusader Lord@Achronum

"It's nice to meet you all," Apollo listened as his new classmates introduced themselves, each of Iris, Theo, Blake and Dionysia taking a turn to familiarize the cohort, or at least the half of the bunch that formed this circle. They were within earshot of the absolutely elated man who was forced to be their wrangler, but had not yet coagulated around him as a few his other students seemed to have done. "Ohh, well hopefully we'll all be fast-friends, then," Apollo nodded at Blake's explanation. "How long did you stay at Pebblebrook for? I just arrived today from Pontaion, so I didn't really get to see the town much." He rose his hand to the back of his head and gave the others a light hearted smile. "It seemed quaint, though!"

Iris was, for the moment, occupied enough to forget her hunger. Several students had shared introductions, and she was trying her best to commit them all to memory. After all, she would be working with them directly, not unlike her brother and sisters at the temple. She had been warned that people will not be as kind, but it seemed to Iris that these fellow students would be plenty amicable.

Iris gracefully straightened out her scarf when Dionysia called attention to it, in order to show off the symbols and emblems decorating it better. "I made it by hand. Though, the designs are of course styled after icons of the Worldsoul, and I merely adopted them..." Iris meekly looked down, not wanting to appear arrogant to her fellow students. "It is customary to make one where I am from."

Iris's face felt hot. She was beginning to come to terms with how far she was from home - meeting new people, in a strange, luxurious place teeming with food... She felt flustered talking about herself.

Switching her attention to the discussion of Pebblebrook, Iris chimed in. "Quaint? I had the pleasure of staying with a wonderful mage in Pebblebrook." Iris spoke with wonder in her voice, clasping her hands together. "It was amazing to have an entire room to sleep in for myself! It even had a bed! I had never had such amazing sleep."

Iris's genuine wonder showed off perhaps more than she intended about her life at the temple. She quickly cast her eyes down again, silently wondering if she was bragging too much. After all, beds were likely a luxury not everyone had access to. She should have stayed humble and not brought it up at all.

---

The trip to Glynwood was appropriately uneventful, not that Eli would dare complain. With a familiar target on his back and a fresh new opportunity to flaunt it, he knew better than to hope for trouble, but at the same time, he kept expecting some new sense of awe, wonder, or even fear to break up the monotony his life had become over the past several years.

He’d been hopeful that Glynwood would be that break. His first time living away from home, his first time studying high levels of magic, and all of it in the most historically and magically significant institution on the continent - that should all have gotten him absolutely giddy with excitement! But as much as he logically knew it was all very exciting, awe-inspiring, and even emotional, it just… wasn’t. Even as he stepped out of the teleporter and into Pebblebrook and got his first glimpse of the magically manipulated sky, he was still waiting for it all to finally hit him - a moment he was beginning to fear would never come.

Now, that wasn’t to say he was entirely without interest in the whole affair. The ceremonial boating journey to the school with its whimsical magelights, that first full glimpse of the campus grounds in their famous ruined crater, it was all visually stunning and intellectually impressive. It just felt… empty. Because no matter how hard Eli focused on the idea that many of the most important mages in Cresvald’s history had walked the very same ground as he now trod, how his classmates would shape the continent’s magical and political future, and how the mysteries to be discovered here were as deep as the ruins themselves, he also knew the ugly truths lurking beneath the glamour of it all. Those vaunted historical figures were as famous for petty politicking as they were for their magical prowess; his classmates were probably cynically scoping each other out for their usefulness as he spoke, and magical developments and discoveries were so often hoarded away like treasures, even in a society so ostensibly dedicated to the advancement of the collective knowledge.

Eli had hoped that that sort of cynicism, the type that had tainted his view of Pontaion and everyone in it, wouldn’t follow him to Glynwood, but he was wrong; it was as if a patina had formed over his former idyllic visions of the school, its shining appeal dulled and darkened by harsh reality.

Inside, the air of the hall at the speech’s commencement was intimately familiar to Eli, closely mirroring the mood of a mixed debate hall as the speaker finally deigned to commence the business of the day. The rapt, eager attention of some, the simmering discontentment of others, even the grumbling impatience of those who just wanted to get to the food were all just as common in the vaunted halls of the Heptarchy as they were at an Academy commencement; be the attendees 18 or 280, green or learned, nothing changed that much.

Least of all the gossip, Eli remarked with distaste, his eyes falling on the chattering group ahead of him in the crowd. Of course, privileged enough to be surrounded by some of the most influential mages in Cresvald’s history and their principal concern was who was sleeping with whom. Good to know a little piece of Pontaion would always be around wherever he went.

The speech itself was remarkable in its… unremarkability. Perhaps Eli shouldn’t have been surprised, Chancellor Nortwin being known for his eccentricities and all, but of all the myriad things he was expecting from Glynwood, the very last among them was mediocrity. The Chancellor was a busy man, but he was also the beating heart of the Academy, and such was his renowned passion for the institution that he was rumored to have fiercely clung to his position through decades, if not centuries, of attempts to oust him. If the man was so animated by his love for the Academy and its students, it was hard for Eli to believe mere scatterbrainedness explained such a curt and generic welcome. Was something else going on?

Whatever it was, there was little time for deeper reflection once the commencement speeches came to a close. As soon as the silencing enchantment was lifted, the ballroom came back to life, warm chatter rising into the rafters as the sea of students began to sway once again. As for Eli, he was jolted from his thoughts by a bump to his shoulder, a dark-haired student in a poorly-fitting uniform barging unceremoniously past him to the refreshment tables.

Brow furrowed in surprise, Eli watched the boy depart, a look of confused fascination taking over his features as he watched the boy wolf down hors d’ouvres like a starving animal. He almost laughed, smirking impolitely for a second before schooling his features more politely as the student returned to his Cohort, seemingly oblivious of his audience. No, no, he shouldn’t laugh; that was too rude, he knew just as well as anyone that anyone could get into Glynwood on merit, and by dint of being here this guy clearly had just as much merit as any of the rest of-- oh no, now he had sauce on his face!

Gossiping crew now long forgotten and spirits lifted, Eli followed the hungry student’s lead and made his own way to the side tables, although his choice was a touch more modest, a magically chilled fruit and custard dessert popular on the Southern coast. Nabbing a spoon and a cloth napkin, he endeavored to keep his expression as neutral as possible as he sidled up to the dark-haired student, following his gaze toward the others and leaning slightly to speak.

“Any good?” he asked, tone low enough not to interrupt the other students as they observed. He kept his eyes on the others, save for a quick glance, but discreetly offered his hungry acquaintance the napkin. “I should hope so; awful lot of grief getting in here if the food sucks.”

---

Róisín proceeded up to the school dutifully alongside her classmates, staying in the thick of the crowd where she seemed like little more than a red mop at shoulder height among her peers. While the rest of the students she stood alongside were won over with the titanic display of magic keeping the coastal rains at bay, Róisín looked up at the swirling, magic-controlled clouds with distaste. If there was one thing that she associated with Republic mages, it was arrogance, which is all she saw when she looked up at the sky. Wizards who think that they know better than the wind and the rain. Half the bloody reason that the war started in the first place.

As they arrived, some porters tried to relieve Róisín of her belongings. The bags and books and clothes and things she let them take; they could be replaced easily enough, and Róisín would probably lose the books before long. However, she kept a tight grip on her father's spear and her grandmother's cauldron, hanging the latter from the lugs of the former. Those, they would have to pry out of her fingers before she let some mage's toy take it off to devil-knows-where. Besides, the spear was a symbol, not only of who she was, and where she came from, but of what she thought about this place. For these mages, the war was practically already forgotten. They wanted to get on with their frivolous lives. For Róisín, the war would never end. It took her father from her, and many more friends and relations besides. Until that was made right-- which it never would be-- she kept the spear to remind others, and herself.

Shuffled into a hall to listen to a speech, Róisín's mind wandered as she quickly lost interests in the mealy-mouthed platitudes being offered. She thought about Pebblebook, and the time she had spent there. She had arrived by horse a week beforehand, and had arranged to stay with an old Fennish woman that lived in the coastal hamlet. She was raising three rambunctious grandchildren, as both of her sons had gone to fight in the war and never returned. The last week had been merry, as Róisín traded songs and stories with the caillech, and helped her with her cooking and mending, and chased around the wee ones and taught them about plants, birds, and bugs. It perturbed Róisín that none of the weans could speak a lick of proper Fennish, and so before she departed she made sure they could all swear in Fennish at least half as well as she could.

By the time the talking was over and the students seemed to be mingling, Róisín was in hell. Her uniform itched horribly, and the boots made her feet hurt. She desired very little else other than to rip these demeaning vestments off, but concluded that she would probably be worse off mincing about like a red-haired nymph. Her eyes wandered to where they had said there was food, and she saw a fair handful of students loading up plates with what was on offer. They had the right idea, she figured, and made her way over to do the same.

A few students were standing about gabbing in front of the part of the buffet she desired, so she shouldered past them. "Make a space." She barked as she pushed through.

Rather than bother with a plate, Róisín dug into the spread with her bare hands. She carved a meaty hunk off a roast pig and stuck it in her gob, chewing on it as it hung from her mouth. She took her gran's cauldron down off the spear and started to pile food into it; roast, potatoes, eggs, fruit, rolls, sweetmeats, all got thrown in. The amount of food available was honestly somewhat overwhelming, it stunned her how well these soft Republic types took care of themselves. She was lucky if she had seen so much food across all of the years she had spent in the rebellion. It was little wonder that they seemed to be in a hurry to forget the war; from here it barely seemed like the war had ever happened.

---

Luc made a mental note of what their cohort overseer said. So they hid the cool shit down blocked off passages and darkened passageways, huh? Ma always said his curiosity would get him killed but look where he’d ended up, the first Dilore in a magic academy. Clearly he’d been doing the right thing so why stop now! Another tasty little morsel in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed in record time… until a whispering voice startled him from his thoughts and he started coughing as something went down wrong, very, very wrong.

In between wheezes and coughs, Luc snatched the napkin from the newcomer’s hand and tried to have some decency as he covered his mouth. It took a few moments until he was able to take in a deep breath without issue. “Yeah, yeah food’s great thanks. I’d like it better if it didn’t try to kill me though.” Luc wheezed back, eyes still watering, as he finally straightened up. Presumably in his Cohort, the stranger who offered him the napkin was clearly better suited to this environment, from his well fitting uniform to the colorful sash for extra fanciness to his very polite offer of a napkin. Though, Luc was curious how he knew Luc would have a coughing fit. Maybe he could use magic to see the future or something. The single strand of white hair did seem a little… unusual but hey, there was floating fire and magically controlled weather. What was a little hair on top of that?

“Sorry about that, thought I’d gotten all of it down. Always told to slow down, chew my food but once it’s in my hands, I cannot physically stop myself. Plus, didn’t eat much before this.Too tired from the trip to Pebblebrook, you know? Gotta remember not to hitch a ride with that guy again. He did not know how to drive a cart. Top marks for hitting every bump, though.” He could feel the tips of his ears burning as he kept talking but when it doubt, talk your way out. And that meant, put as much information in the air as it took for the other person to forget the embarrassing thing. What a greta first impression on his future friends. “But uh, how about you? Did you stay overnight in Pebblebrook or did you just pop in? It seems really cool, the whole poof and you’re here but also expensive. Also I have to know, is that a fashion statement or is it, you know, natural?” Luc gestured towards the guy’s hair. It was fine, Luc could salvage this. This guy approached him first and used magic to know about a coughing fit, he must know what he was getting into.

And still Luc hadn't noticed the sauce.

---

@Obscene Symphony

Glynwood Academy Grounds

_{Sunday, the 21st of the Third Pyric Moon, RY 3418}

---

"Theo was there before me, but I stayed about a week. I'd never travelled by cart very long distances before, and I might've overestimated how long it would take," Blake admitted at Apollo's question with a chuckle, "Honestly, you didn't miss much. I would've teleported too if I could."

Nearby, Dionysia regarded Iris with the slightest hint of confusion, marring her otherwise genuine enthusiasm. She had no idea what a Worldsoul was, assuming it to be some type of magical concept she wasn't privy to in her mundane upbringing, if not a name for whatever nebulous enchantment could've been woven into the fabric. She almost asked for an explanation, until Iris ruined any perception the girl had of her being a studied mage-to-be by her sudden infatuation with beds.

"You... you didn't have a bed before this?" she questioned tactlessly. Sure, she knew the lower classes often shared bedrooms, if not existed entirely within a one-room farmhouse, but to lack even a bed was poor-poor. And destitute beggars didn't have nice scarves like that. "Are you not from a wizard family?"

Iris' statement likewise turned Theo and Blake's heads, with a polite arch of the brow and a look of outright incredulity, respectively.

"Oh, come now. The war wasn't kind to everyone, her family could've fallen on hard times," Theo tried to mediate, "No need to pry into hurtful subjects."

"Oh, like you have any room to talk," Blake mumbled bitterly, before he suddenly looked taken aback, as if he hadn't meant to say that out loud. Theo startled slightly and flashed the other student an apologetic look, but Blake waved him off before he could speak. "Sorry, whatever, drop it."

@Light@Crowvette

---

Across the room, the grumbling grew as many a disgruntled student was shoved aside by a spear-wielding gremlin in search of food. Haughty scoffs about uncivilized behavior mingled with the cruder derisions of the lowborn, though no one dared outright approach the armed Róisín yet. Were the girl not too immersed in her feast, she might notice a shift in the corner of her eye, that unmistakable feeling that one is being watched originating from a fleeting shadow by the nearby wall. Within a blink, it was gone.

@Dead Cruiser

---

With Luc seemingly distracted with a new conversation with the troublemaker, Professor Galenos turned his attention squarely the remaining girl that had been waiting for him.

"Do you have a question?" He still didn't seem particularly excited, but whatever weariness Phoebus had drawn out of him was gone, replaced with stoic indifference once again.

@Crusader Lord

Oliver stood before the mirror, his gaze fixed on his reflection. His clothes, meticulously pressed, clung to him like a second skin, exuding an air of pristine elegance. He reached for the opulent bottle on the vanity, its glass glistening with golden hues. With practiced precision, he released a cloud of fragrance, notes of deep amber and velvety vanilla swirling in the air, mingling with his anticipation. As he inhaled the intoxicating scent, memories of nights spent lingering in opulent halls and whispered secrets resurfaced, intertwined with the bitter truth of a world fueled by privilege. Laus, a man with an enigmatic smile, approached with purpose, adorning Oliver's lapels with brooches that bore symbolic weight. On the right, a mushroom, delicate yet resilient, a homage to his mother's brilliance, while on the left, a radiant star, an emblem of the Hiltern family's lineage. Laus' voice resonated, carrying a hint of vulnerability, as he whispered, "Because you are family." Oliver's eyes met his own reflection once more, searching for traces of kinship within the depths, grappling with the notion that family, like everything else in this fractured world, could be both a gift and a burden.

At the threshold of the grand entrance, Kennedy, donning the same impeccably tailored uniform, stood before Oliver. Adorned with two brooches, both bearing the resplendent emblem of stars, he exuded an effortless charm that caught Oliver's eye. A pang of bittersweet longing coursed through him as he acknowledged the intricate web of relationships that bound them all. In that moment, the weight of Laus' proclamation, of being family, settled upon Oliver's shoulders, mingling with the residue of their clandestine affair that had dissolved into the realm of memories just months prior. The realization that Laus saw him as a son, a revelation drenched in conflicting emotions, served as a catalyst for the mutual decision between Oliver and Kennedy to sever the fragile ties they once shared. Amidst the enigmatic corridors of Glynwood Academy, where secrets thrived and whispers became echoes, Oliver embarked on a journey colored by unspoken truths and the tangled complexities of love entangled with kinship.

Stepping foot within the hallowed grounds of the academy, Oliver couldn't help but feel the weight of weariness settling upon his shoulders. As the bustling throngs of eager students moved with animated vigor, he found comfort in his detachment from the collective energy that pulsed through the corridors. His countenance, an expression of weary resignation, contrasted sharply with the unbridled enthusiasm that radiated from Kennedy, who reveled in the pulsating vitality of their new surroundings. Seeking respite from the clamor, Oliver slipped away into a secluded corridor, seeking relief in the solitude that whispered promises of escape from the ceaseless rhythm of their fellow peers.

As Oliver's gaze wandered through the grand halls of Glynwood Academy, his mind drifted back to the dreams he and his mother had once shared. They had envisioned this very moment, the day he would step foot into the revered institution they both held dear. But his reverie was swiftly overshadowed by the specter of tragedy, a haunting presence that lingered in the recesses of his memory. The image of his mother, consumed by the very creation she had birthed, flashed before his eyes, and a sorrowful tear escaped the fortress of his somber gaze. The bitter taste of longing mingled with the sweetness of their shared ambition, leaving him suspended between the realms of what could have been and the harsh reality of what now remained.

With tear-stained cheeks and a heavy heart, Oliver gradually regained his composure. The torrent of emotions subsided, leaving behind a hollow ache that reverberated through his weary soul. Resolute, he made his way toward the reception, guided by the distant echoes of hushed voices and a solitary monologue that pierced the stifling silence. Standing at the threshold, he hesitated, a solitary figure on the precipice of a new chapter. The weight of anticipation and uncertainty pressed upon him, commanding his attention. He stood there, absorbing the weighty silence, waiting for the final notes of the monologue to fade into oblivion before crossing the threshold into a world teeming with secrets and hidden agendas. The solemn cadence of his footsteps resonated in the empty chamber, his presence a subtle intrusion upon the clandestine gathering.

As Oliver observed the vibrant scene of connections forming around him, he chose to linger on the outskirts, a silent spectator in the dance of camaraderie. His gaze swept across the enchanting decorations that adorned the grand hall, their resplendence failing to evoke wonder within his jaded heart. Memories of his destitute past infiltrated his thoughts, casting a melancholic shadow over his present existence. How he had transformed into a cynic, hardened by the bitter truths of life's inequalities. A familiar figure caught his eye in the distance, beckoning him with the promise of reassurance and familiarity. But the unspoken agreement between them, the mutual decision to maintain a necessary distance, held him back. And so, his attention shifted to a small group engaged in animated conversation. Amid their banter, a sudden clash caught his ear, a verbal skirmish that piqued his interest. "Sorry, whatever, drop it." He hesitated for a moment, his gaze shifting nervously from one face to another, before finally mustering the courage to speak up. "Um, hi there... Mind if I, uh, join you guys?"

---

Apollo's inquiry of the small town just outside the college seemed to respark the banter between his new classmates. Was it really something so divisive? Or perhaps it was that this lot had yet to find common ground. Or, maybe they just liked to throw verbal jabs at each other- the one named Blake seemed like he did, anyway. Apollo's eyes trailed down to Blake's gauze around his arms as he seemed to strike a nerve with Theo, and wondered if it was related, but kept that idea secluded away from the possibility of prying into another hurtful subject. Instead, he pivoted both his eyes and head to the two girls on his other side, as he seemed just as intrigued as Dionysia that Iris would find a simple bed to be so luxurious. "Well, I'm glad to hear that you slept well, at least!" He released some of the tension between the five of them with a small laugh, just in time for a sixth student to approach. Someone he hadn't seen in during the opening ceremony; did he come from somewhere else in the crowd? Or was he late? Apollo shrugged when the student asked permission to join, offering a bit of clarity with "I don't think its up to us, we were all assigned into cohorts. But uhh, I don't see why you can't chat with us until we're all sent off to our dorms."

Apollo's hand lifted to the new student, accompanied by a warm smile. "I'm Apollo, and these are-" he looked over his shoulder at the others in the conversation, taking a second to coagulate their names in his head. "Iris, Dionysia, Theo, and Blake," he listed from left to right, before facing back to him. "And you are?"

@Scribe of Thoth@Crowvette@Ignorancebliss

Oliver's thoughts swirled within the confines of his troubled mind as he stood amidst the gathering crowd, a maelstrom of uncertainty brewing within him. "Oh, shit. Will I have to remember all of those names?" Memories tangled like a desolate thicket, obscuring familiarity. He excelled in preserving what mattered—the taste of Laus' favorite dish —caramelized onions embracing velvety Gorgonzola—, Ophelia's whispered secrets. The name of the blondie eluded him, slipping through him like quicksilver. "Is it Isis?" He thought trying to remember. In the realm of small moments, he reigned supreme—a curator of the ephemeral, guardian of personal intricacies. His mind, a labyrinth of forgotten names, yet resplendent with treasured chapters.

"Well, I'm Oliver," he responded with a weary smile, his voice carrying a hint of resignation that mirrored the shadows dancing in his eyes. "Oliver Reed. Nice to meet you all," he added, his voice a fragile thread of hope amidst the cacophony of guarded conversations. His gaze lingered, silently beckoning for reciprocation. "Where are you all from?" he asked. He concealed the truth, the tenuous existence that bound him to Potaion, for it was a tale of locked laboratories and a mother entangled in the sinister dance of lethal fungi.

---

Iris

@Ignorancebliss @Light @Scribe of Thoth

Iris shook her head at the mage's questions. "Ah, well, the beds at the temple were always better served for anyone older that really needed them..." She put a finger to her chin, following a train of thought aloud, "And the younger ones always wanted the beds, too, so I let them use them whenever the elders weren't using them..." In reality, Iris basically excused herself to the bottom of the priority list for the beds at all times. It made everyone else happy enough that she didn't mind.

Iris frowned after explaining herself. It seems like there was a touchy subject uncovered - she would never have mentioned it if it brought up something uncomfortable. Before she could apologize, a new student introduced themselves, thankfully changing the subject of the conversation. "I come from a town in the north known as Macefield." She quickly remembered something her mentor told her to say, and added, "Named after the spice, not the weapon." She didn't quite get it, but for some reason there was always confusion about the name. Iris didn't even know what a mace was, other than the spice.

As she patiently waited her turn to speak, the younger woman's stomach would let out a small but distinct growl in the process. It was enough to get her to breifly put her hands up to her stomach, before letting out a quiet sigh and putting her hands back by her sides. Hungry? Certianly was after all of this waiting around for others to ask their questions and so forth. She could see plenty of her peers rushing off to get food, if not already digging into it, and was tempted to try to fashion a quick tiny golem to bring her a snack. Not that the poor thing would be large enough to do anything but get stomped on most likely. Hmm.

Whatever the case would be in that theoretical situation, the answer to the other boy's question seemed to be interesting enough at least.

"The deeper tunnels that lead to the subterranean portions of the old city are off-limits and entrances to such sections are clearly marked, if not blocked off entirely."

"If you turn down a corridor and the magelights aren't on, that's usually a good indicator you should turn around. There's plenty of old rocks for you to look at in the accessible parts of the ruins, so please, for your own safety, don't be difficult."

So there were accessible areas underneath the school, yes? Interesting. Most interesting indeed. It piqued her own interest noticably as she quietly listened on, trying to fight back the growing hunger in her stomach as she waited to ask her own questions. She wanted to know a few basic things before she simply ran off, so that if anything did go awry she knew where to go at least. Etc, etc, etc. She didn't much case who was from where right now, she simply wanted to get things done and eat before she had to use magic to steal some of the blasted food from here-

However, as the other boy turned to leave she noticed his eyes turn right to her. Or so it seemed, at least. She had looked at him, breifly, at least, but his gaze felt almsot just as grating as the air he seemed to put on. Not to mention his troublesome, even if personally-interesting, question otherwise. Ugh. She wasn't here to, well, er, 'judge', but it certainly wasn't a fond first impression she was getting of him either right now. It was enough to make her raise an eyebrow back at him, but just as soon as he glanced at her the boy seemed to leave and move over to where the food was without another word. Even stole some food from someone's plate, if she saw him out of the corner of her eye correctly...sheesh.

Professor Galenos turned his attention squarely the remaining girl that had been waiting for him.

"Do you have a question?"

He still didn't seem particularly excited, but whatever weariness Phoebus had drawn out of him was gone, replaced with stoic indifference once again.

Well, the overseer of her cohort certianly seemed to go back to how he'd looked before in a hurry. At the same time, she didn't react to it either. If this was how he was, she just had to get used to that unless proven wrong otherwise. Eh? It was less headache in that sense, though it didn't mean she'd be any less respectful in a general sense either. Didn't want to make a big fuss or mess on the first day, given she'd still have to see who some of her teachers and such were as well. If she had questions she didn't want to get a door slammed in her face either. No please!

...Not that this underground area the man had mentioned wasn't interesting. Not at all. Maybe she could send some tiny golems down there to draw little maps for her so she could go down there one day herself.

Mmm. Anywho!

"Yes! I simply wish to ask where I might find the teachers outside of regular classroom hours, and if there's anywhere we might be able to generally do some practice with our magic? Ah, other than that I would like to ask if there is a shop or such place on-campus to procure futher magic-related materials for our own use potentially?"

Her tone was respectful, though seemed to perk up a little as her turn to speak finally came along. Aaaah~ She could smell the warm buns from here, not to mention the meat skewers and-...ahem. She needed to continue to focus, yes. As soon as she had her answer, though, she'd be headed over to the food as quickly as her legs could carry her in this instance and maybe get to meet some more people to boot as she got a bite to eat.

@Scribe of Thoth@Hero

Eli outright jumped as the hungry boy he’d spoken to suddenly choked, blinking awkwardly as the boy coughed and sputtered into his proffered napkin. Oh good grief, and he was trying to be discreet! Eli had an apology on his lips as the boy recovered, but there was no time to offer it; as soon as the boy got some air back into him, he took off on a tangent that sounded less like conversation and more like… well, it wouldn’t be polite to say at a party. Had trouble slowing down on eating, did he? Eli might add talking to that list.

Still, Eli couldn’t say he was annoyed. In fact, the poor kid’s obvious discomfort was a little endearing. He was clearly out of his element, maybe feeling a little inadequate, and he was even starting to blush - Eli hadn’t seen anyone act like that since his last Debutante ball, when that poor little boy sprung a nosebleed trying to strike up a conversation with his younger cousin. Eli was so used to silver spoons on silver tongues that all this stumbling and bumbling was a breath of fresh air - even if the question it ended with might have been a little less than polite.

And speaking of less-than-polite, again Eli’s reply was cut off - but this time by a newcomer, a tall, grumpy-looking blond who made his entrance by snatching something from the hungry kid’s plate. Eli quirked a disapproving brow; wasn’t he one to talk.

“Not to worry - it’s a birthmark,” Eli replied, pointedly answering the hungry boy’s question first before cooly considering the new guy. The blond’s proposition was tempting; absent the excitement of making the hungry kid choke, this ceremony was painfully boring. It hurt a little to admit - the mystique surrounding Glynwood made it feel like blasphemy not to drink in every moment like it was his last - but with the speeches done, it was like any other stand-up reception: shallow and tiresome. Of course, leaving early probably wouldn’t look good, especially if there was some second phase of the opening ceremony he didn’t know about, or if they missed any important announcements from their Cohort instructor, and it was probably prudent to do a little more socializing…

But didn’t you come here for a change?

Eli sighed, dropping his shoulders in surrendered amusement. He was right, he came to Glynwood hoping for a change of pace from the bureaucracy he was used to, and here he was clinging to it like a child to a blanket. Maybe Blondie had a point - in a weird, rude, roundabout way.

“Sure, sounds fun,” he replied simply, finishing off the last bite of his dessert before depositing the spoon neatly in the empty glass. He held the glass out and dropped it, as if he was placing it on a tray that wasn’t there; instead, it caught itself after a short fall and glided gracefully to a nearby table.

Eli adjusted his uniform, looking over to the hungry kid. “You coming?”

---