It was getting noisy, much to Chunji's displeasure. For a place of silence, it was slowly becoming an area of entertainment. Maybe, he should have left Chloe alone, so that he could have the library all to himself. Closing the book, Chunji packed them up. It was about time anyways. He came and he acquired. He'd study later at the dorms if need be.

As he walked passed Emelie, he stopped. There was one more thing, he wanted to ask. Turning to face the Librarin-in-Charge, he was briefly distracted by her antics. "Ms. Emelie, if I may inquire, how did you become librarian?" He hadn't asked before because he had wanted to acquire knowledge before anything else. Now that he had acquired it, a mindless inquiry left his mouth.

A percuilar circumstance, that had happened twice. Once with Gulliver and this time with Emelie. Did Iris Ascsendis have a habit of shoving their responsibilities onto students? If so, there was nothing wrong with it. The Academy had its own way of operating, even if Chunji had disagreed with it on a certain level.

Ah.

That was the root of the misunderstanding.

Lifting his head back and leaning against the chair, Otis stretched his neck, craning it side to side as if to rattle his preconceptions out of his mind. Davil’s boots, outside of the winged heels which looked as if they were added onto a pre-existing product, were fundamentally mundane. So, what was the process again?

His shoes were to help with Ethos control, but that was a matter of how the Ethos functioned, not how the shoes functioned. It was thirty-seconds of sustained output before the limit was hit, but was that another pre-condition built into his Ethos, or was it a matter of preventing rebound instead? Was it, perhaps, a ‘timer’ set on objects imbued with Linearic Liner? Setting aside issues with control, how powerful was its initial burst of speed? And, setting aside Davil’s belief that it assisted in flight…how much could that be improved, if he had proper wings?

A thirty-second window for observation every day was undoubtedly a tight window, but he could work around that. The Strigidae looked over his notes and hypotheses for the moment, then cast a glance out to the window. It was night now, the surrounding forests dark, the moon not yet out. A thirty-second window for observation was also advantageous in its own way. It meant that they could get all the observation done in just a single minute of the morning. And the mundanity of the boots themselves? Perfect for uncovering Davil’s Prime Essence, which may be the key that truly elucidates the meaning behind ‘Linearic Liner’.

Hm. Planning all this for just a minute of the morning may be a bit wasteful. He may as well record Davil’s physical capabilities while he was at it.

That sounded better, yes.

He reached into his pouch once more, pulling out a parchment-wrapped bar of dried meat, fat, and mixed nuts, chewing out it inbetween sips of water. A proper meal would have to be procured eventually, but tonight?

Otis set aside the boots, pulled up his Adapa, and opened the page to the recording of his far-off spy’s transmissions.

Time to finish things off with a movie.

If someone had told Iraleth the previous night that she would have gotten herself in a duel against a suspected Umbralist within mere hours of arriving at Wingram, she wouldn't have believed them. If they had told her she wasn't particularly looking forward to this fight, she would have laughed in their face. But it was true. As much as Iraleth despised every Umbralist that continued to practice their black arts, Ciara's showing in the auditorium didn't convince her that she was one among them.

And yet. She would have the truth from her one way or another. If Ciara was so desperate to have something to hide in relation to Umbralism to begin with, that was suspicious in itself. The tragedy that befell the world, befell her as a child, could not be allowed to be repeated. Especially not where the High Bishop's dream had only just begun to flower.

Iraleth sat cross-legged on her bed, continuing to alternate between meditation and prayer as the evening went on. In her state, anything more strenuous was ill-advised, even with the healing potion the Head Advisor had so generously handed out. So when Ciara returned to the room, the paladin opened her eyes, inclining her head towards the other girl.

"Good. I was hoping you wouldn't do something foolish like sleeping outside tonight. No sense in not getting as much rest as you can if you're so set on this course of action." Iraleth said simply, before attempting to return to her meditation, closing her eyes. Attempt being the operative term here. There was...plenty she wanted to say to Ciara, especially in the wake of her leaving earlier. And now that she was here? Well. Better now than right before they crossed swords with each other tomorrow.

"I was hoping you wouldn't agree to the duel, you know." She gave a frustrated sigh, one hand rising up to pinch her brow. "That you'd hesitate before agreeing to fight someone you were going to live with just to avoid answering. It was a simple yes or no question: do you have anything to do with Umbralism? That was it. Umbralists destroyed the orphanage I lived in and the village with it. Killed everyone but one silly girl who was lucky enough to survive until help came. I have to know, Ciara. Just say you aren't an Umbralist in truth, and we can call this off."

One last tether thrown to her. Would Ciara take it, or drown?

@Estylwen @Sifr

---

@ERode

BOYS' DORM

As Otis returned to the recording, he would begin to see an odd sight. The gnome, sat beside the unconscious Gulliver, took up a cross-legged posture as he began to meditate. From the crackling fireplace behind, flames would begin to slowly bend and shift, rising and levitating out and around Bronsteel in a spiral pattern. As it did so, the flames began to take on a more string-like texture, and didn't so much as spark when it made contact with the couch the pair sat on.

"It's less potent than usual," Raja would grumble from across, crossing her legs and her arms simultaneously with discontent as she half-pouted towards the gnome, whose eyes remained closed. His brow furrowed at her words, and for a brief moment, the intensity of the strand-like flames decreased in tune with this disruption.

"It's the best you'll get for now on such short notice, so deal with it. This one won't last if you rely on my services. It's a problem of your stinginess, not my capabilities," the gnome would respond, his words tinged with venom as the spark of his channeling returned. Raja scoffed, and cocked her head to the side to look away from the sight. "Then get it done. Today took a toll, and we need him - them - at their best in the days ahead. As expected, the other one couldn't resist turning it into a spectacle. Kid's full god complex, when he's handed the reins."

For a long time after that, there was silence, as if a mutual understanding achieved only by years of built trust was reached somewhere along that brief interaction. After a while, this silence was broken by the stringy flames all at once tightening around Gulliver, steam beginning to rise from underneath his flesh as runes began to brand themselves into the boy's body. The gnome began to strain as this happened, sweat pouring down his face and a few slashes slowly beginning to form across his arms. Rebound was setting in, and the old man was at his limit.

"Invoke Corda." With those words exiting the gnome's mouth, whispered almost in a voice that wasn't his own with a distorted echo that spread throughout the cozy cabin, the flames all at once fused to the boy's exposed flesh as runic tattoos. The fire vanished, and even the remaining embers in the fireplace died, leaving the humble abode's lighting purely in the hands of sunlight, dim candles and torches strewn about. The gnome coughed as he exited his meditative stance, standing up to begin throwing more firewood into the fireplace, not giving Bronsteel so much as a second glance. As he does this, Raja slowly rises out of her seat and moves to inspect Gulliver.

"That's the most I can do for now. Neither of them can push themselves like that for at least a week. The word's influence will vanish on March 8th at midnight, so ensure he doesn't hit rebound until then. If not, his prime essence will be damaged irreversibly," the gnome would speak in a matter-of-fact tone, before turning around to lock eyes with Raja, disdain clear as day on his face. "I truly hope you know what you're doing. We're running out of time."

Raja would wander past the gnome and into a nearby closet, emerging moments later with a ragged and moth-bitten cloak, throwing it over Gulliver. Then, she would hoist him over her shoulder much like how she brought him in here, and began moving towards the doorway. "Raja...!" The gnome's voice raised with frustration at her lack of response as he stomped towards her, but stopped himself. They exchanged one last knowing look as the principal looked back, and each nodded. The gnome would go back to stoking the flames of his fireplace and preparing tea for himself, while Raja took off outside and back towards the cliff she entered from.

Upon reaching it, she would pull a scroll out of the front pocket of her robes, and unfurled it. Reading it in a low tone, essence surged and twisted around her, increasing in intensity as sparks of electricity lashed out at the grass and rocks by the cliffside. "Iris Record," she would mutter, at the height of this incantation. As quickly as she uttered those words, she vanished, and Gulliver with her.

It's at this point in the recording that he would hear his door creak open. Slowly walking in was Davil, who was tip-toeing in pink bunny slippers. Upon noticing Otis awake, he sighed with relief as he closed the door behind him. "Thought I was gonna need to sneak in real quiet like, but I can see you're still awake, chum. Whew."

Davil would slide in with his bunny slippers and take to his side of the room, crashing into his own bed with exhaustion. After a moment to revel in his own comfort, he would look across at Otis with a curious brow. "What were you watching, anyway? Strigari Academy's yearly skirmishes aren't set to start for a few more months, so it couldn't be that unless you're watching reruns of last year's recordings. Hale of Starwood's grand finale match to become #1 against Pisces Claw was a huge upset, and I know lots of people that watch that one. Never understood the Hale hype though. The guy's kind of a dick, y'know? Poor Pisces though. Ah well."

The boy's mouth blabbered on at lightspeed, exposing himself quite quickly as a fan of Strigari Academy's ongoings. Within a few minutes, however, Davil had forgotten entirely about his question towards Otis altogether. A moment after finishing his rambling, loud snoring would radiate across the room from Davil's side, trailing well on into the night for Otis to either listen to or deal with in some way.

But regardless, the first day of Wingram Academy had come to an end.

---

@AThousandCurses

LIBRARY

"How did I...?"

Emelie pondered the question for a beat, as if it were something she had never even considered as a concept. Hand to chin, the girl was thrown off entirely by the thought even as annoyed students waited for their books to be checked out. Recognition would return to her shortly thereafter, checking out books at lightspeed as she nodded at Chunji's question. "I guess I just was. I can't say I'm overly familiar with how this place does things, but students seem to get all kinds of special offers based on varying factors. Lifestyle, past experience in certain fields, a rare prime essence codeword, a particularly powerful or notable Ethos, and all other kinds of things that catch Principal Raja's eye."

With a shrug, checking out the last student in line without acknowledging their existence, a halfhearted smile beamed out of her as she stared at Chunji. "I don't have many answers. The ol' Dragoness is unique even by the standards of Union education. I thought Strigari Academy's headmaster was a weirdo without match. That was, of course, until I met her - she's got a weird way of seein' the world, once you get to know her. All the same, I couldn't imagine this place under the leadership of anyone else."

The warmth of familiarity overtook Emelie for a moment before she once again realized where she was, giving herself a small slap on the cheek and a wave of dismissal. "Er, sorry, I'm a total space case today. To make a short story shorter, when applications were being filtered through, Raja found me to be somebody built for responsibilities beyond a life of study. Same goes for the people picked for the Ascendis Dormitory to undergo their weird little trials. Can't say I know much about any of that, though. Not even I know what the criteria is for that place, and I suspect not many teachers do, either."

The pale librarian's eyes lit up in horror as she watched something transpire behind Chunji. Moments later, the sound of many objects clattering to the floor overtook the library. Emelie rushed out from behind her desk, and upon looking towards the noise, there would be a mannekin on the ground underneath a pile of books. The ladder it was on appeared to give out from under it, and with it came nearly an entire bookshelf worth of books. "Shiiiiiit," Emelie cried, bolting over to assess the situation. A few other mannekin followed shortly behind, clearing the way with artificial precision. Emelie would look back towards Chunji with a shake of her head. "Sorry, we'll have to cut this short for today, I can't say I know what happened. But this sure as shit's gotta get done by tonight, so I'll be goin' into worker mode until sundown so I can make sure I don't get fired for mismanagement!"

Regardless of what Chunji decided to do, whether to stay behind or find a way to pass the time elsewhere, it was growing apparent that the previously mentioned sundown was not far behind. Orange rays peered through the windows of the library, the moon and stars sure to follow in short order. As Emelie and the mannekin quickly got to work assisting their fallen comrade and getting that area back in order, other students also began filing out to find other ways to end their days. If Chunji did make his way back to his dorms eventually, he would find Rio already asleep in their room.

The first day of Wingram had come to an end.

---

@Estylwen@Sifr@Psyker Landshark

GIRLS' DORM

"They'll kill you if you tell them the truth, you know. You're not a girl that opens up to others. That isn't you."

The low-yet-high raspy voice returned to Ciara's mind, cutting through the others momentarily. It was as if a spotlight was given to this one and this one alone, for this brief period of importance. It felt as if it was so close, closer than any of the others - as if simply moving would slam her against an unknowable pressure, as if breathing would rise her chest directly into an impossibly sharpened claw ready to pierce her flesh. Yet all the same, it was imperceivable, as if existing somewhere else despite its undeniable presence.

"They haven't been through what you have, child. What we've been through. Especially not that Astran knight. It'd be a losing battle to even try to connect with her. We've always known this, haven't we? Those like us can never fraternize with those like them. To back down now would show weakness - would show that we fear her, and that we concede to any execution her ilk might visit upon us."

The voice grew gentler with each sentence. It was a relatable, comforting blanket that would slowly coat Ciara. An essence with the concept of 'calm', slowly but surely overtaking the entire room, but subtly enough that it could be explained away as nothing more than a long day's fatigue finally catching up to tired warriors. It wasn't an instantaneous effect, but it did serve as this entity's way of dulling the conversation before they could even have the chance to work out their differences with clear heads.

March 1st, 1526 SR marked a massive change in the Vaalin Union as a result of Wingram's forming, and it was only the first of many long days to come. Whether they knew it or not, it marked a change that there was no going back from. In the days, weeks and months ahead, adventures of both whimsy and woe awaited. For now, though, none of those things were worth worrying about - an unknowable future remained unknowable, ultimately.

Finally, the first day of Wingram had come to an end.

It brought a host of questions and only a few answers, but it was a satisfying discovery all the same. He couldn't read the essence that must have flowed through the flame nor the magic that scarred Gulliver through the recording, but that just gave him more reason to ask the gnome himself. He already understood that Gulliver was exceptional, possessing an Ethos that seemed uniquely valuable to the faculty at Wingram, and he had a sense that his twin was more of a homunculus or a construct. Now, however, with the transcription he had of Raja and the gnome's conversation?

March 8th. Avoid rebound, or damage will be dealt to the prime essence. He was a necessary part of their plan, whatever that may be. And it was a plan with a short enough deadline for them to be concerned. And then there was that incantation. Invoke Corda. Ethos? Or a spell that he had yet to discover himself? Otis glanced down at the paper, at his sketch of the runes that had been engraved upon Gulliver's body. Arcane magic utilized runes as well, but this, mayhaps, was rooted more in primal or occult-ish disciplines, branding with searing flame the symbols and patterns of dead languages and cultures. So many things to puzzle out, and that wasn't even accounting for the truth behind the Foreteller too.

March 8th though. Just a week. If Otis were Raja, if Gulliver avoiding rebound was the most important thing, he would go and simply imprison that narcissist for the duration of the week. Call it a punishment for going out of bounds during the entrance examination. And if she deposited him into the Iris Record, well, that would mean there would be no legal way for Otis to encounter him either. Which was a shame. He would take extralegal methods then, in order to sate his curiousity. What would happen indeed, if rebound was triggered? If the prime essence was damaged? He chewed on his thoughts as he chewed on another block of dried meat.

It shouldn't be hard to provoke the Gulliver he knew. It would simply be a matter of first locating his fellow classmate, and second avoiding interference from the Principal herself.

Amber eyes glowed in amber light. There was a squirming little worm of a thought in his mind, wondering whether or not he really ought to pursue such a path. But a worm was a worm, and he swallowed that thought up without hesitation. There was something else that Wingram Academy desired, something else that the Principal desired. Something that she was hiding from the students. Something that she was hiding from him. Perhaps she would eventually speak of it, perhaps it would be kinder of him to simply ask about it. But it was the Principal who started with subterfuge, with alleyway portals and policies that encouraged division and conflict. Did she truly think that she was the exception to the Golden Rule?

She was not.

The door creaked open. Davil emerged, returning well into the night, his own blabbering charming with regards to the speed of delivery. "I was studying," he replied, head twisting 180 degrees from his desk in order to look at his roommate head-on. "Hale's character is designed to be divisive though. Removed from the words he says and the expressions he makes, his actions make him an exemplar of sportsmanship. The mismatch, the gap, if you will, is simply what he constructs for the purposes of getting eyes on himself, and no other. And also, remember. Your Ethos is mine for study, starting from tomorrow."

Well, the snoring indicated that Davil didn't catch that last part, but that was fine. Otis would just wake him up in the morning, and they can get the first round of testing done before breakfast was available.

Wingram Academy, Girls' Dorm
@Nanaya @Psyker Landshark @Sifr

---

~*~

Running in tattered socks, the cold winter ground biting her feet. Disturbing howls of deranged caretakers, neighbors, calling out from behind her.

~*~

"Hey, you okay?"

Ciara took another step into the room, careful to keep her face neutral. She rubbed at her eyes one last time, mumbling in response to Hildegunde. "It's nothing I can't handle..."

Iraleth looked up from her bed. "I have to know, Ciara. Just say you aren't an Umbralist in truth, and we can call this off."

~*~

Sock-covered toes digging into the snow-covered ground, tiny hands balled into fists, trembling. The dull thuds of rocks rolling at her feet. Another soared and hit its mark, leaving a gash on her forehead, causing her to cry out in pain.

~*~

If Iraleth had physically slapped her, Ciara's face wouldn't have been much different. Distressed, hard eyes and hot cheeks hinting at boiling blood.

It was always her fate, wasn't it? She couldn't escape her own shadow. As Iraleth shared all the reasons why Umbralists deserved a quick and merciful death, she found her own temper rising. Again.

The rage she had held back for years was primed and ready to go. The one fatal accusation that caretakers, potential friends, her parents, always made. The accusation that had destroyed her life several times over. She couldn't bear the word 'Umbralist'; it made her boil so much from within.

Could she make Iraleth understand? They both seemed to share similar tragic tales. Perhaps... perhaps the light would understand why the Hunger craved for it, why the Hunger did what it did.

But, just as she was about to speak and say something she would regret, a presence engulfed her.

"They'll kill you if you tell them the truth, you know."

~*~

Hunger finally dulled, staring down at the ashen remains of the plant life that once flourished. Her red Hunger eyes turned to the approaching torchlight.

"They've seen. It's too late. Run. They'll kill you if they catch you."

Her shoes, wet from stepping into the marsh, were removed.

"What are you doing? Run!"

Her thought was confident. "They won't hurt me."

A near-fatal mistake. This would be the last she didn't listen to the Voices.

~*~

The low-yet-high raspy voice. Terrifying in its limitless presence. The anger that had shown on her face was instantly snuffed out, replaced with fear.

In an instant, she was back on the battlefield, running for her life through the corridors of the school's main building. Claws, gripping her tight, from a place in which she had no defense.

Her lips purposefully pursed, knowing better than to dare speak at a time like this.

"We've always known this, haven't we? Those like us can never fraternize with those like them."

The fear was soon replaced by comfort. Did she dare take comfort in this Voice? It was by far the most lethal, most powerful of all the Voices in her mind. So far, it had led her true, but how long would that last? How long until it asked something of her that she couldn't give, that she wouldn't cross the line for?

Even if she wanted to debate it, the tension in her muscles was already releasing, her heart rate slowing down. Tried and true habits weren't something she could shake, and she was used to taking comfort in and listening to her Voices.

"Time will progress apace... huh?" She thought softly. The Voice had been right then, and she was certain it was right now.

The comfortable sedation of 'calm,' like the numbing sensation of an anesthetic, was already clouding her mind. Slowly but surely, she lost the will to speak entirely. It took all her concentration to place her pillow and blanket on her bed, and stumble into her messy haven for rest.

Her eyes glanced at Iraleth as she lay there, too exhausted, too 'calm' to move. She blinked once, before darkness drew its curtain over the light's glowing face.

"Then... a fight it is..."

It was a simple bloody question. Considering what Umbralists did to the world, it wasn't even unreasonable. From now until the end of recorded history, anything even vaguely connected to Umbralism would naturally fall under suspicion. From the expression on Ciara's face, it seemed she took offense. Damn her. Why couldn't she understand? The burden of proof would always be on her. It would always be on her. The Apocalpyse was still too fresh in living memory for things to be any other way. Iraleth's own loss was still too fresh in her memory for her to...

As Ciara began to nod off, Iraleth did as well, exhaustion clouding her mind. The last thought she had before sleep took her was nothing but calm. One way or another, she'd settle this tomorrow.

___

Father,

Arrived at Wingram, passed trial. Student in full now.
Possible Umbralist incursion. Will provide updates as needed.
Doing fine, will make you proud.

Hugs and kisses,
Iraleth

She'd woken earlier than the others, it seemed. Enough time to compose a brief message, just to reassure her father that she hadn't gotten lost on the way from the city. Or failed the entrance test.

The letter was short, terse, and to the point. There wasn't much value in flowery words when shorter sentences conveyed information just fine. Considering Vaal Nero's electricity shortage, it'd be a waste to use Essence Mail for a brief update. Paper and ink would suffice.

Iraleth rose from her desk in the room, sealing the letter and taking it along with her as she set off, intent on finding a mail room or something of the sort.

So it was all determined by Principal Raja's preference? How vexing. It would also mean Gulliver was personally handpicked by Principal Raja, seeing that she was the one with the authority to do so. Chunji could guess why Principal Raja would be interested in Emelie. His peer's demonic leg would make a good case study, so perhaps Principal Raja was interested in demons? An odd choice of interest that Chunji didn't want to involve himself in.

"I will take note of that." It was about time to leave. There was no need to prevent the librarian from doing her duties; he had no purpose in the library. However, as he left, Chunji couldn't help but feel upset. If Chunji could label it as such, Nepotism seemed to run in the blood of the academy. It shouldn't surprise him, but Chunji felt that this gave the students unequal opportunities, with himself lacking.

When he reached the dorm room, he spotted Rio sleeping on his head. Setting aside his belongings on his side of the room, Chunji loomed over his roommate. His eyes observed the young man's body. Rio seemed to have more or less recovered. It was a little shame that he couldn't study the effects of Ethos Rebound, but it wasn't Chunji couldn't live without. On the other hand, maybe he could convince Rio to drink a potion. Chunji would be looking forward to it.

After everything thing had been done, Chunji lay on his bed and immediately fell half asleep. It was a habit installed to him when he was younger, and it was a habit he would have to maintain in the future.

"It was a simple yes or no question, y'know," Hildegunde says, shrugging as she flops into her bed. Strangely exhausted. She inhales, closing her eyes. She holds it for a good while, letting the blanket of calm quell her own frustrations. Not just with the two of them, but with the world itself. A world that has become much more complicated and scary since she had left the WNT. She longs, for a moment, to be a child again. To have her greatest worry be besting her brother in a childish display of insecurity. To have her world be her house, the forest that surrounded it, and on occasion, the busy markets of Seer's Loft.

But of course, that's why she's here.

Because she can't.

"Well, at least do us all a favour then and try not to kill each other, yeah? Fair fight tomorrow?" Hildegunde says after finally exhaling. She sighs and turns over, pulling the blankets around herself. Despite her fatigue, her calm, her last words are cold and sharp. Like a knife threatening to piece skin.

"Because we do not want me to intervene. So please stop yourselves before you force my hand."

With that, Hildegunde closes her eyes, and finally gives in to sleep.

---

The sun dawned on a new day at Wingram Academy. As the wee hours of morning crept in, peering in through the clouds, the rays brought joy to some and hell to many. It was, of course, only 6 AM by this point - what kind of psycho-murderer of a teenager would be up and fully charged, knowing that cafeteria breakfast was still an hour off and first classes were a comforting three hours away? Even as the distant echoes of a clocktower cried out throughout campus grounds and beyond - the Iris Record sparing no expense in its attempts to bring despair to late risers - most would elect instead to bury their heads beneath their pillows in search of extended rest. Others, still, welcomed the opportunity to begin in earnest.

---

@ERode@AThousandCurses

BOYS' DORM

The boys' dormitory was lively, to say the least. As the shuffle of the living dead rumbled through the building, should Otis find himself waking up around this time, he would first hear Davil's snoring and then see him continue to sleep like a fallen tree. In Chunji's room, he would awaken to the sight of a lone room, Rio nowhere to be found within. Mentally, Otis and Chunji would each have a mental ping in their minds; subconsciously, they would know this to indicate an unread 'urgent' notification from their Adapa. Should they open it, a message from Wingram's board of directors with an unknown 'sent' time would notify them of their first scheduled class and the student list of said class. It would read the following:

"We at Wingram Academy are excited to inform you, dear attendee, that you have been chosen as a year one student for Compact 3. Please find your way to room 103 in the main building for a 9:00 AM start time, attending today's session: Basics of Essence Day 1 - Survival. The class listing is as follows: Chloe Steeler, Chunji Yi, Ciara Ventura, Davil Wund, Hildegunde Nachtnebel, Iraleth Kyrios, Otis Tan Arillo, Rio. To the eight students of Compact 3, we wish you a fruitful and memorable experience here at Wingram as our nation's - and Castalia's - great future. A hero, stalwart and kind!"

Roughly around the time that the tower's chimes of life had cultivated the hatred of countless groggy students, a thundering bang and three consecutive crashes could be heard in the main hallway of the dorm's ground floor. Doors could be heard opening one by one to investigate the source of the sudden quakes, and a commotion would very quickly be raised in the middle of the hall. Were anyone to inspect outside the first floor hallway, they would see Rio, his golden phantom at his side as three greasy leather-clad thugs hurtled to the floor in front of him. Among all the combatants in this brief scuffle, none appeared seriously harmed, and Rio's phantom vanished into thin air upon some kind of realization from the boy.

"Please get lost, it's difficult to start the day expending essence right away. Stars grace us, the school's gonna try just as hard to kill us all today, I can already feel it," Rio would finally speak up, cracking his neck side to side as the thugs stumbled to their feet. After staring daggers for a few seconds, they turned and stomped off. "This ain't over, y'hear? We're gonna know why you fight like that, even if we gotta beat it outta ya," the middle thug would respond as they all disappeared from sight down another turn, presumably leaving the dorms entirely.

Rio would turn to nod at Otis and/or Chunji, if they caught his eye in the hall at any point during the altercation. Apart from that, the morning would go on as normal, unhindered by violent shenanigans for now.

---

@Estylwen@Sifr@Psyker Landshark

GIRLS' DORM

The calming essence had long since subsided in the room of the trio, and yet the meek peering of sunlight gave way to a serene atmosphere regardless. The low-yet-high rasp in Ciara's head had vanished to the depths from which it rose, allowing the other voices their time to exist in their beautiful chaos, handing back control just as readily as it had taken it away mere hours ago. It was a distant prospect now; a forgotten idea, or a blueprint left unfinished. Whatever that voice was, it couldn't influence the outside world for long, and for now it slept as others awoke. Unlike the boys' dormitory, filled to burst with violence from the very moment that moody teenage boys met the eyes of one another, the girls' dormitory did not have such conflict so early in the morning. That wasn't to say that the building was paradise, as tension dangled from many unsatisfied students denied their chance at a different roommate at the wrathful hands of their dormitory's head advisor. Regardless, no fists were swung and no spells were slung yet.

For Ciara, Hildegunde and Iraleth upon waking, they would each receive a mental 'ping' in their minds, that they would subconsciously know to be an unread 'urgent' message sent to their Adapa. Should they open it, a message from Wingram's board of directors with an unknown 'sent' time would notify them of their first scheduled class and the student list of said class. It would read the following:

"We at Wingram Academy are excited to inform you, dear attendee, that you have been chosen as a year one student for Compact 3. Please find your way to room 103 in the main building for a 9:00 AM start time, attending today's session: Basics of Essence Day 1 - Survival. The class listing is as follows: Chloe Steeler, Chunji Yi, Ciara Ventura, Davil Wund, Hildegunde Nachtnebel, Iraleth Kyrios, Otis Tan Arillo, Rio. To the eight students of Compact 3, we wish you a fruitful and memorable experience here at Wingram as our nation's - and Castalia's - great future. A hero, stalwart and kind!"

Iraleth, in search of a mail room, would recall one such room labeled on the door directly across from the head advisor's office. Upon walking inside, the room would be empty of people, apart from a pale girl dressed in a white longcoat far too big for her. She appeared to be zoned out, staring at a lightbulb on the ceiling with a squint in a moment of intense focus and an awful lot of 'hmmmmm...' noises emanating from her nostrils.

Wingram Academy, Girls' Dorm
@Nanaya @Psyker Landshark

---

"Get up."

Ciara's eyes blearily opened. She turned her head just in time to watch Iraleth shut the door to their shared dorm.

Her eyes shut, before snapping wide open, and she sat up straight. Today was the day. Their match, their duel. She didn't feel any more ready.

She needed as many advantages as possible, including getting inside her enemy's head.

Silently, she slipped out of bed, grabbed her satchel and key, and moved to the door, peeking down the hallway. She saw Iraleth's tall figure disappearing around the corner. Forgetting to lock the door behind her for Hildegunde, Ciara darted down the hallway, moving nimbly as she taught herself when she was younger. She paused at the edge of the wall and peeked. The head advisor's office, and another office were visible, strange humming noises emanating from the second room.

Her eyes focused wholly on Iraleth, aiming to stay out of sight but within earshot, hoping to glean as many secrets as she could.

She could feel a ping in her mind, briefly opening her Adapa to take a peek at the contents. Board of Directors? She tried to see if the notice had any signatures on it. Who else was in charge of the school?

A stifled breath of air passed through her nose, and she dismissed the Adapa. Her eyes hovered on Iraleth again.

So they had a class together? Great. More opportunities for her to study her appetizing opponent.

"We need to know everything. This room appears to be some type of post office. It's sending out a message."

"So?"

"What if you're mentioned?"

"Why would it mention me?"

"...You're about to fight it later, and it voiced threatening accusations at you yesterday." The Voice said, giving the impression it was looking at her in a cross way. "Use your head, little Hunger."

Ciara bit her lip. "So, you think...?"

"I strongly suspect it's reporting to someone. We need to know if it mentioned you at all."

Ciara edged closer, trying to keep out of sight of Iraleth. "I'll get a better look."

If she wasn't able to see what Iraleth was doing, she could always ask the person inside what had transpired afterward...

Otis was, after all, Neutral Evil. He possessed all the qualities necessary to be awake at 6 AM in the morning, even without understanding when breakfast would be served at the cafeteria. Possessed by his own internal clock, his eyes opened without so much as fluttering as the clock struck six, and he rolled out off his bed in that same swift motion. Morning stretches followed soon after, vigorous movements that warmed up his muscles and shook awake his organs. He flung open the windows afterwards, allowing the cold morning air to flow in and uncorked his waterskin to take a swig of lemon water to finish things off. The water would occupy his stomach long enough to hold off hunger pangs until breakfast proper, and as he breathed deep, as he allowed the cold air to grant him that sense of ‘alacrity’, the Strigidae finally attended to the message that his Adapa notified him of.

There was only a single thing that was truly worth noting: Davil was a Wund.

So that was his peculiarity. So that informed his desire for unification. So that…did little to explain his incompetence, especially compared to the Leuvalt scion. Otis glanced over at the young man, snoring carelessly away in his bed, and narrowed his eyes. He was Neutral Evil, after all. The only thing that existed was his pursuit of pure knowledge, and he would take any measure to further that pursuit. In this case? He produced smelling salts from his pouch and placed the opened vial right up against his roommate’s expanding nostrils. Moments later, Davil would either be awake or be considered clinically comatose.

“A hero, stalwart and kind,” was Otis’s morning greeting to his bleary-eyed roommate. It sounded almost like sarcasm when the Strigidae said it. “Recall your oath, Davil. Your Ethos is mine for seven days. This is the first.”

And without hesitation, he thrust the winged boots towards Davil, before striding purposefully out of their dorm room, sparing only a single glance to indicate that he should follow. It didn’t matter to Otis whether or not they had a whole class on the Basics of Essence after all, nor did it matter to him that it held so foreboding a topic as ‘Survival’. He didn’t even care for the manifestation of that golden guardian in the first floor, nor of Rio’s defeat of three strangers. And if he couldn’t care enough to attend to that bit of curiosity, then Otis certainly didn’t care enough to even offer a nod towards his ally from yesterday, that bespectacled boy who tried to broker a meaningless trade.

Instead, he led Davil out to the courtyard instead, where Otis stated a simple instruction.

“Charge your Ethos into your boots to maximum capacity. Then try to release as much of it as you can in one second, for the purpose of moving forwards.” As he spoke, his Adapa emerged, the burning grimoire already set to record. His right hand touched a spot between his eyes as well, a self-suggestion spell that enhanced his arcane ability to discern individual essence. “Remember, Davil. Forward, not upward.”

First, it would be uncovering the Prime Essence associated with the Linearic Linear, as well as its actual output. With the remaining time after, he could examine topics such as whether or not the expenditure of the Ethos charge could be paused, or whether it was a multi-directional or unidirectional boost in movement. And then? Once that charge was expired, he could experiment too, to see if it was a matter of reaching rebound or a matter of specific limitations on individual objects.

Plenty to do, certainly, but they had a whole hour before breakfast.

“Begin, please.”

Opening his eyes, Chunji made note of his surroundings. Rio had already left the room, so Chunji was the sole occupant of the room currently. As if clockwork, Chunji immediately prepared himself for the day. Streches, basic hygiene practices, and cleaning his glasses, Chunji grabbed one of the books he had from the library and disembarked from his room.

There were several hours before the first class would start, so he had some time to himself. A stroll would help circulate blood through his veins.

'Dayin, set an alarm for 8:00 AM.' The rustling of pages were heard in the echoes of Chunji's mind. If it was anything like orientation, Chunji felt that there was going to be more chaos in the future. His opinion on the academy were already low, so he already expected them to be broken again.

A loud bang echoed throughout the halls. Chunji had paid no heed to it, but his path laid outside of the dorm. Reaching the scene, if Chunji had any doubts that Rio was still injured, there were dismissed as Rio stood before three students. Chunji could already tell that this was going to be a common occurence. Just as Chunji was about to move on, Chunji made eye contact with him. Out of politeness, Chunji gave a robotic wave before moving on.

He spotted the Owl Boy and one of his orientation accomplices going down to the courtyard. Chunji briefly thought of follow them but decided against it. They had no connection outside of orientation and stalking wasn't something Chunji would take a hobby. Instead, he went to check if there were any workshops for practicing alchemy.

There was a chance that they would be closed, given the time of day, but it was better to seek it out now rather than later.

Her Adapa pinged just before she entered the mailroom, and Iraleth took a brief moment to read the message over. Whoever was in charge of student assignments had a rather twisted sense of humor, it seemed. To tell the truth, Ciara wasn't even her biggest concern in this class roster. That bloody Chloe girl was likely going to be insufferable, especially considering Iraleth was the one who'd dispatched her yesterday. Unfortunate. She suppressed the urge to sigh in dismay and instead opened the door to the mailroom, striding inside.

Within, she was greeted by nobody save for a girl in a coat too big for her, staring unresponsively at a light bulb of all things. Iraleth looked at her for a moment, nonplussed. What was she doing? Still, it wasn't any of her business. But best to announce herself just in case.

"Don't mind me." She said, gazing around the room. "I'm simply looking for a post box. Outgoing mail." She didn't bother holding the sealed letter off. There was a better than not chance this girl wouldn't even bother to turn to look at Iraleth.

@Estylwen

@ERode

COURTYARD

All the way out to the courtyard, poor young Davil would drag his feet as if he were the shambling dead. He followed Otis as if he were a wizard's familiar, sleepily nodding his head. As he threw on fresh clothes, his shirt was on backwards and his socks were inside out, but nevertheless he followed the instructions and eventually found himself in the courtyard, head downcast the entire walk there.

"Wait, where am-"

Those were the only words Davil finally spoke aloud, before all at once it was as if the entire morning beforehand had caught up with him all in one condensed second. Eons passed through his vision as the smelling salts and demands to wake up flowed through him. "Gaaaaaah!" With a wail of agony and despair, all at once his present situation had delivered a mean right hook to his hopes and dreams. He was exhausted, and if that wasn't enough, he was also being asked to do things. Who just does things this early in the morning? Utter insanity, that. And yet...

"Okay, chum. I guess it's like that, then. I'd be on a wagon home by now without you, after all, so just... let me try to do this. It’ll be a new experience from the usual, at the very least." Davil would ensure his boots were firmly bound to his feet, the feathers in the wings pure and aerodynamic, the leather creaseless. After a few stretches and flexes, punctuated by punches into the air as if a boxer hyping himself up for a battle of the ages, he was ready.

"Davil, AKA 'Dav', AKA 'The Davster', taking off! Except this time, we're heading forward! Linearic... Liner!"

Upon taking up a runner's stance, Davil allowed a moment of silence before taking a final exhale as the starting gun shot off in his head. Five seconds passed with agonizing anticipation as Davil stood in that stance, unmoving and rigid. No essence would flow, no changes in the way his prime essence reacted to his desires. At the end of the fifth second, however, this would change very rapidly.

In the span of half a second, many things happened. Firstly, through Otis' enhanced perception of essence in that moment, he would notice that Davil's prime essence - the essence normally gathered in the chest - dispersed as chunks broke off and took residence in the legs. Once this happened, a visual tell that would be possible to see even without this enhanced perception would become apparent: the circulation of a small gust of wind around his feet. The codeword associated with Davil's prime essence would not be obvious in that moment, but that would be expected - to uncover such things would typically be a more involved process, such as through a dedicated and costly ritual or the owner's own realization in a second of 'true clarity'.

The very next half second would consist of Davil smashing his body into the ground, face first, a meter in front of himself. Otis would have seen Davil's prime essence shift such that it was expecting upwards momentum, and upon not receiving that exact command, instead plummeted much like the winged test subject's own body. In a more practical analogy, it was as if a muscle trained and honed for a very specific purpose was being asked to move differently. Even if Davil himself were fully trying to move directly ahead, his prime essence was still very much under the impression that it was instead to fulfill its regular purpose.

Davil rolled onto his back and looked up at the sky for a full ten seconds in silence. Bruises and cuts from the cracked concrete remained on his face, but his expression was deadpan disappointment. He then stared at Otis while still on the ground, his prime essence having shifted from his legs back up to his chest - a sign that Linearic Liner had deactivated. "Was, um, was that it? Are we good now? I've got another twenty four seconds left to burn for the day, but I'm going to be straight with you, chum. That sucked."

---

@AThousandCurses

APOTHECARY

Upon Chunji's relatively quiet travels across campus in search of an alchemy workshop, he would indeed find one. Located near the entrance to the campus forest was an apothecary, and within a stone's throw from that apothecary in the direction of the forest was a shed that read 'HERBOLOGY AND ALCHEMY' on a sign posted above the door. It would be closed and locked, though, as evidenced by the presence of another student who was already present at the shed's doorknob - a girl in a frilly white dress. While they had yet to be properly acquainted, Chunji would recognize this individual as the one that had been blocking the progress of other students with her aging touch. Her injuries from the previous day had healed, and she was more full of life than ever before as she impatiently tugged on the doorknob, giving the accursed oaken barrier that was the door a few half-hearted kicks out of frustration.

She would notice Chunji's presence after another moment, and glare daggers at him from over her shoulder. "Another early-rising alchemist, is it? Well, I'm afraid you're too early. I suppose, in an establishment that prides itself on securing the future of heroes, the desire to make use of their facilities outside of designated hours is, perhaps, too much on them."

After a final, futile tug, she would once more kick the door with one of her steel-toed boots. "Utterly ridiculous! Who do they think we are?! Haughty Strigari layabouts?!"

---

@Estylwen@Psyker Landshark

GIRLS' DORM

"Eee!"

Lightbulb girl would jolt as she spun on her heels to face Iraleth, her face painted with surprise and, for a moment, sheer terror. She maintained her defensive stance, mimicking the mannerisms of the protagonist of a mediocre martial arts movie as she took her time analyzing the paladin in front of her. The sleeves of her oversized white coat hid her hands, but they raised upwards in the position of a praying mantis towards Iraleth as she completed her final moment of 'tuning back in' on the reality in front of her. "Oh, sorry. Had me worried for a spot there, but I guess it was nothin'. You're a real sneak-thief type, huh? Real sneaky and quiet type o' gal."

Exhaling in relief, the girl would point behind her towards the other end of the room with a sunny smile, her posture immediately becoming one more comfortable. "The red one over there's incoming mail, the blue one's outgoing. Real old fashioned system, but I guess for people like us, it works, eh? Gotta conserve power where we can."

She would raise a hand as if gesturing for Iraleth to follow, and began limping towards the two boxes. Ciara, were she to continue watching, would presumably be able to maintain clear vision of the entire process from the doorway. In her own personal inquiry into the specifics of the classroom notice, she would find no signatures on the message.

"I was just here wondering why the lightbulb was so bright. Why's it gotta be so starsdamned bright?! Back in 'Kas, at least people like us knew what we were gettin' into. They just let lights shine so bright in this place. Unbelievable, am I right? If this weren't a multi-million project, I'd have assumed they didn't even have the foresight to limit the fuckin' things from exploding glass and ungodly heat onto us from the sheer power of these leylines."

Grabbing a cane leaning against the wall and promptly bearing her weight onto it, she shrugged. "But that's enough 'bout me. If ya don't mind me sayin' so, you look a little, uh... perturbed. Green under the gills, maybe. Stiff. Not a morning person, or did you also draw shit luck with your roomie?"

It would seem the elf, Clover, he recalled incorrectly, was as healthy as an ox. This analogy was utilized because Clover was using a short-sighted, brutish method of getting inside the workshop. For an elf that acted high and mighty, she always resorted to violence at a moment's notice. It was an interesting view that Chunji didn't reject. Some problems could be resolved with unrelenting fury, and Chunji would need to remember that if he wanted to grow as a person. However, it did surprise him that Clover was into alchemy.

"Facilities are required to be monitored by trusted staff to ensure materials aren't stolen nor used for illegal experiments. As we are both first-year students who have been here for less than a day and outside of opening hours, we do not have access to such an establishment at the current time. Position in the social hierarchy is irrelevant to the current case as the academy has accepted Strigidae into the academy." The only Strigidae Chunji had encountered was the Owl Boy, but his case still stood.

"Furthermore, constant attempts to enter the room without permission may warrant trespassing. Any damages inflicted on the door may be fined to you on a small amount of silver coin. As a witness to this blatant attempt of crime, I will have no choice but to report this if needed."

This was Chunji's 'helpful' advice to Clover against banging against the door. He genuinely believed that Clover needed an explanation for her rhetorical question on why the apothecary was closed to them at this given time. After all, she looked frustrated, so Chunji decided to give her some advice. Then it hit him. Was this what they called compassion? Is concern over another living being aside from oneself? Could this be a way to solve his problems in healing magic? Deciding on the course of action, Chunji proceeded with the next step.

"I see that you have recovered. How are your injuries now?" Chunji began. "You took a variety of attacks during the orientation. From a knife to the spine, getting hit by Divine magic from fifty feet in the sky, and getting kicked in the face. I'd imagine that'd be rather painful to experience." Speaking of kicks, he still needed to get his shoe replaced. "Granted, that could stem from your actions of painting a target onto your back, but nonetheless, you have sympathies." With a nod and his ever-expressionless face, Chunji did not realize that his delivery came off as a provocation rather than genuine empathy.

"Regardless, I am glad you have recovered. Clover."

Wingram Academy, Girls' Dorm and Main Building
@Nanaya

---

The notice from her Adapa was missing the signatures that leadership was usually so proud to display.

Interesting.

Ciara looked up just in time to see the girl point to the two mailboxes at the end of the room, talking with Iraleth.

"The red one over there's incoming mail, the blue one's outgoing."

Ciara's eyes zeroed in on the blue mailbox, then to the letter in Iraleth's hand as she peeked from the doorway. She had a feeling she knew where this was going. Iraleth would want her letter to go out, so it would be placed in the blue mailbox. That meant, perhaps later that night, Ciara would try breaking into the post office and uncovering what exactly Iraleth was up to.

"Back in 'Kas, at least people like us knew what we were gettin' into. They just let lights shine so bright in this place."

'Kas, as in Kastrix? The Vaal Kastrix? So there was another one from her hometown here. Ciara had to stifle a chuckle. Only those who lived in Vaal Kastrix understood exactly what the girl meant. Ciara remembered many times when she did her work in the dark, simply not having enough energy in the leylines to power the home or commercial building she had been contracted to help out with.

Having heard enough, Ciara snuck away from the door and moved silently down the hallway back to room 07. She cracked open the door, saw Hildegunde still blissfully asleep, and smiled. No one had noticed her absence.

Grabbing her toiletries and fresh clothes, Ciara moved to the shared bathroom of the Girls' Dorm. After a quick shower, she threw on a new blouse and skirt and re-tied the ribbon around her neck, letting her black curls fall around her face. Returning to the dorm, she made her bed, grabbed her jacket and heavy satchel, and moved to the door. She looked back once at Hildegunde, wondering whether to wake her or not.

"Only wake it if you plan to Eat it." Said the Voice in her mind.

Ciara immediately glowered and turned away, locking the room behind her.

Stopping by the cafeteria, she saw staff preparing for a new day. Hot pastries were ready for students on their way to classes, and she picked up two for four copper pieces. Walking the leisurely way to the main building, she again found herself in front of the Leyline Attunment Zone, and the peace it held. She remembered being promised they'd gather here at, what, 10:00 AM? She held back her desire to touch the pole, knowing it would be sated in due time.

Instead, she turned and made her way into the Main Building, adamant on finding the classroom and seeing if the directories had returned to the walls and billboards. That way, navigating this maze of hallways wouldn't be as arduous as yesterday. When, well, she was being chased by pompadour wigs and baseball bats.

Hopefully, today will be nothing like yesterday...

“Only fools expect the same actions and same situation to lead to different results.”

It was five seconds. Whatever he had imbued his legs with, it had not actually transferred into his shoes. Instead, it was closer to a blast, no, an explosion of wind, one that seemed to be designed to escape from the ‘bottom’ of whatever limbs it was being transferred towards. Five second release, 0.1 second burst. No clarity with regards to the prime essence, but the Ethos looked to be a fair bit more ‘strict’ than his own.

And only twenty-five seconds left in the day. What a fun morning exercise!

As Davil remained lying down, Otis squatted beside him. The Strigidae’s Adapa warped, expanding into a larger projection that slowly looped through the moment that had just occurred. Visualized now, it was clear that Davil’s prime essence was breaking off into jagged bits to reach his legs. Most arcanists understood essence as a flow rather than an individual piece, more of a fluid than a solid. Whether it was a problem with Davil’s own abilities, or another intrinsic oddity to his prime essence had yet to be confirmed, but certainly at this juncture, Otis had much to talk about. “Observe here,” he spoke, eyes filled with the brilliance of scientific obsession. “See how your essence shifts there, as if it has a mind of its own? How the earth is disturbed, but only ‘around’ rather than directly beneath? It invokes my own experiences with the steam propulsion devices of particular Gearveins! And it’s curious too, that this 30 second limitation doesn’t seem to match the visual capacity for prime essence you possess, judging by the amount of essence that returned after you disabled your Linearic Liner.”

Was it a different sort of limit then? Was it an exchange for explosive speed? He considered rebound, the destruction, nay, unravelling of the body once enough essence was drained from it.

“Well, regardless, there’s another 24 seconds left, and plenty more to test out. Up and at it, Davil. There’s two more main tests I want to settle before it’s over.” As Otis spoke, he offered a hand to his test subject up. If Davil didn’t mind the injuries on his body, then Otis wouldn’t show concern over it either. Instead, he reached into his pouch and pulled out a pair of leather gloves, from which wing-like patterns had been embroidered on. The materials were mundane and had been sitting in his sewing kit; if one ignored their lack of fingers, it was perfectly functional. “Try these on.”

The Strigidae had taken measurements while his roommate was asleep. Not that Davil needed to know that either.

“I modeled them after your shoes somewhat, under the presumption that there’s a psychological angle present. The second test would be to channel your Ethos into these gloves instead. I would say…point them out straight, do your five second charge, and then release. For experimentation’s sake, point your palms outwards, not downwards or upwards.” The Adapa began its recording once more. He had established that the Ethos desired ‘upwards’ movement over all else. But did that apply if the limbs changed as well? And from what point, exactly, did that upwards movement spawn from? If it had been from the bottom of one’s feet, then if applied to the ‘bottom’ of one’s hands, did that still apply? “When you’re ready, Davil.”

And Otis’s eyes glowed again, ready to track the shifting of Essence within the Wund scion’s body.

"Ugh..." Iraleth raised a hand to pinch her brow as the girl started to panic. It was too early in the morning for this. "Please just relax."

A sneak thief? She was clad in full plate. But it would be rude to point that out. Instead, Iraleth followed the girl towards the outbox, depositing her letter into it while the apparent cripple continued to speak.

"The benefits of trying to work with Shaktans, I suppose." Iraleth shrugged noncommitally, trying to not let her usual thoughts on such a subject surface. "I'm a local from Vaal Nero, and our power situation isn't too much better than Vaal Kastrix, by all accounts. Blackouts are a regular occurrence back home."

"But that's enough 'bout me. If ya don't mind me sayin' so, you look a little, uh... perturbed. Green under the gills, maybe. Stiff. Not a morning person, or did you also draw shit luck with your roomie?"

"I'm fine." Iraleth gave the girl a long stare. As if she was just going to admit her misgivings over her upcoming duel. Hopefully, the faculty in charge would have the good sense to keep it quiet. "Hungry, if anything. I've not eaten breakfast yet. But thank you for your help." She inclined her head towards her once before turning to leave. There was still time enough before class started to find food somewhere. Hot bread or a pastry would tide her over until midday.

Hildegunde awakes alone. Confused. Bewildered. Long after Iraleth and Ciara have left.

It takes a few moments for the events of the previous day to come back to her. The announcement. The bridge. The auditorium. The head advisor's office.

She grimaces. The advisor's office - it was a baffling series of events that by all means didn't have to happen, and now here she was, trying and failing to play peacemaker for the two younger girls. She wonders, briefly, if her brother felt the same way about dealing with her in her youth. It is both a comforting thought and a saddening one.

The blankets fall haphazardly to the floor as Hildegunde gets up. The ping was missed on account of the silencing of her Adapa. Nonetheless, sensing that she is running behind, she begins to dress herself as quickly as possible, the door practically slamming behind her. Had the duel already started? Is she too late?

Time, Freischütz.

8:45, Fräulein Nachtnabel. Hildegunde's pace slows for a moment. She's got over an hour for the duel.

Then, he breaks the news.

[color=0000000]You have class in room 103 at 9:00 AM.[/color]

"What?" She is so taken back by the news that she speaks this aloud. A few students stare at her. She pays them no heed.

[color=0000000]You have class in room 103 at-[/color]

"Yeah, I got that! Where the fuck is room 103!?"

The duel slips her mind entirely, panic having set in. She quickens her pace once more, practically running through the halls. She feels a grin - a far more playful one than usual - in her mind's eye. She holds back a groan at the news.

Chloe will be there.