@ERode

COURTYARD

Steam once more flowed out of Davil's ears in concern while trying to process the extent of the analysis he was given. The boy hadn't given such thought to his own Ethos before, let alone something like what his prime essence's codeword might be. He knew himself as a one trick pony with limited use, and quite frankly, he'd always been content with that. The mere idea that Linearic Liner had other applications broke him, his eyes becoming swirls as his vision was consumed by the cosmos. "Propulsion? Gearvein? Capacity? Gr-graaaaah..." Trailing off, the winged boy spasmed and foamed at the mouth for multiple beats, his mind reeling at the unknown and terrifying words and concepts thrust into his solid block of a brain.

Davil returned to his feet with Otis' assistance, dusting himself off and nodding as his eyes returned to the hazel orbs they typically were. Fire had also returned to him, his gaze ignited with the need to prove his worth. "...But none of those words matter! They can't affect me, chum, because I'm immune to words! Strixan stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me."

None the wiser, the boy would slip on his custom gloves and stretch them out, flexing them with the full extent of his fingers to 'wear them in', all the while taking care to take deep breaths in and out to prepare himself for another test that he had never before attempted. All the same, the look on his face gave away that he had full confidence in Otis' methods, and nodded in acknowledgement at his requests. Slowly, his hands extended outward, palms facing forward. Once more, Davil's face drooped to a state of serious focus, again visualizing himself at the beginning of a hundred meter dash, the starting gun raised to fire.

"Linearic... Liner!"

Once again, with those words and the blasting of the starting gun in Davil's head, the regular process had begun, but quickly deviated from there. The five second charging period had progressed, only... different. His prime essence did not shine so readily as it did before, and Davil almost seemed to wince in pain as two fist-sized chunks of his prime essence broke off and jolted into his palms, leaving very little left in his chest at all. It was as if nearly the entirety of his prime essence had all at once jammed itself into his waiting hands, which drastically went against the grain of what a prime essence should do. In smaller chunks it would be negligible, but for such a dim fragment of prime essence to remain in its rightful place in his chest while ninety percent jammed itself into his hands would begin to cut off blood flow to the heart.

A small wind would gather in the palms of the boy's hands, but it was so faint that it wouldn't even be able to push a leaf. One thing was clear, though: his prime essence, in this position, was not attempting to deviate upwards as it had before. Should it be released, it would indeed shoot forth straight ahead. In Davil's eyes, the Wund boy would find some recognition and appear to realize something. All at once, the remaining prime essence in his chest would pulse outwards throughout his body, and all at once, the two condensed shards would rip themselves away from his hands and back towards his chest, once more reuniting the entirety of the winged warrior's being around his heart. All at once the wind had dissipated, and rather than being pushed back, Davil simply fell to his knees on reflex.

"Grrrhhh..."

With the gargling of phlegm in his throat and the grinding of teeth, Davil's gaze was turned to the soil beneath him, doing his best to avoid hyperventilating at the shock of feeling something wrong with what he had just attempted. As he knelt there, his gloves would appear, on closer notice, to each have suffered a small slash across the palms. A small trickle of blood would seep out of each of these openings, revealing similar cuts on Davil's palms as well. Davil's prime essence, in its current state, still appeared vibrant and pulsing - a sign that, at the very least, rebound was likely not the reason.

"T-That's test two, chum. Eighteen seconds left in the tank, if you know what I mean. Can't say I've felt that one before. Whew..."

---

@AThousandCurses

APOTHECARY

"Clover? CLOVER?!"

Steel toe met doorknob as the blossom haired half-elf slowly and jaggedly turned to fully face Chunji. The doorknob to the alchemy workshop was slightly unhinged now, much like Chloe herself, as her eyes ignited with fury towards a new target. Rolling up her sleeves, she would stomp towards him, stopping a few paces away with balled fists. All of Chunji's words had seemed to slowly strike at her nerves, but it was the pointed finish of an incorrect name that seemed to finally ignite her. "I will have you know that it is my winds-given right to be here, right now, studying to get ahead on my alchemical research," she spat, stomping once more towards him. "And good to know, doubly so, that you're someone so willing to adhere to the rules - rules that don't benefit you in the slightest - just to hinder the potential of a star as beautiful as I! Hmph."

Puffing out her chest, arms crossed, a pout visible. All these things served to tell the tale, perhaps, of a noblewoman who had not yet grown accustomed to a life of rejection and dissonance. A strange, alien land in which power was no longer solely in her hands, her word no longer one that held the sway to make others bow. With her eyes drawn back towards the cracked doorknob, she sighed. Her expression cooled, and her posture lowered.

"My name is Chloe Steeler - not Clover - and I'm quite fine, thank you. I'll have my stupid little hamster transfer over repair funds to the school later, so you don't need to worry about reporting in. It's just..."

Uncrossing her arms, one of her hands cupped her chin as if in thought as she stared towards the nearly broken door of the workshop shed. "It's just really important that I be allowed as much time in the workshop as possible, okay? The principal even gave approval after being told how important it is, so in the confusion and with how much work I have to do, I snapped. Um..."

Finally, Chloe once more turned towards Chunji with a regretful look. "Sorry."

---

@Psyker Landshark

GIRLS' DORM/CAFETERIA

A small chuckle would be heard from behind Iraleth as she turned to leave, the lightbulb girl finding amusement in something the knight had said. It wasn't sinister, but rather that she had found something genuinely funny about the interaction. "The struggles of Strixans far outweigh anything a Neroite has gone through since the days of the Unity War. Your ancestors lost Nero and the Wings, but we of the Thornlands suffer an erasure of history on a national level to this day. Well 'n truly, Miss, we ain't the same."

Were Iraleth to look back, she would simply see the lightbulb girl wistfully tracing patterns in ridges along the handle of her cane, a bright smile on her face. She would continue to idle in the mailroom after that, not responding if she were to receive a rebuttal and instead keeping to herself with no further acknowledgement. She wasn't in a trance or lost in thoughts, but seemed to no longer desire conversation whatsoever.

On the Astran paladin's journey to the cafeteria, she would see many others with the same plan. The lines were long, but students were tended to rather quickly to compensate. Vending machines stood at the ready, and behind different counters were various apron-wearing mannekin standing devoted and ready for the culinary demands of the student body. Grand breakfasts of pancakes, eggs and sausages, or the fabled "Twiggy's Special" consisting of pancake towers layered by sausages and eggs and topped with maple syrup and hot sauce, all stood at the ready. Each breakfast cost a single silver coin, apart from the Twiggy's Special which appeared to demand a two silver tithe instead. Sides also consisted of various hot pastries, freshly baked and ready to consume with fervor, costing two copper per. Comparatively, the vending machine pastries and candies didn't go over a single copper coin, for those wishing to save.

Among students present within, she would see familiar faces, but only one who she would recognize to any degree worth mentioning: the visage of Gulliver Bronsteel, bruises and cuts still visible peeking out from under his bandages as he claimed an entire table for himself and various mannekin that appeared to be under his exclusive control. This was noted for the white capes each of them wore, bearing similarities to his own.

---

@Estylwen

MAIN BUILDING

As Ciara moved about the main building in search of a directory, the first that she came across would be occupied by a familiar face. Michael stood by one of the previously empty directories, hammering in a nail to keep it firm and posted. Sweat creased his brow, and frustration painted his eyes. "Little shit," was all he'd mutter, off in his own world. That was until he noticed Ciara, upon which his expression somewhat brightened as he waved towards her.

"Lookin' for directions? Well, I'm here to let ya know, we just got done puttin' the sons 'o bitches back up. And by 'we', I mean 'me'."

Dropping his hammer into the toolbox at his feet without another glance at it, the loud clank of a sea of nails inside allowing the hammer to nestle into its steel bed, he turned towards Ciara with an inquisitive look. He pointed a finger at her with an amused expression slowly creeping onto him, mixing with curiosity to become mischief.

"You didn't back down, did'ja? You had all 'o last night after ya took off, and yet, here you are with a look that betrays intent. Makin' enemies ain't gonna get you anywhere good 'n proper, y'hear? Heh."

Digging a hand into his hood to rustle his dusty blond hair around, he pondered for a moment as he chuckled to himself - reminiscing, or maybe just finding joy in the small things in life that would inevitably cross his path. The mischief would leave his eyes as he smiled towards Ciara, nodding in acknowledgement of something that could only have been discussed in his own head.

"I'll come watch your match if I'm all caught up on work, alright? Iunno what's goin' through Nikki's head to escalate this far, but at the very least, I'm not gonna be able to sleep right if I know that kids're killin' each other without me around to see the drama," Michael would say with a shrug, before catching himself on his own words and stopping to correct himself. "Oh, and uh, I guess to make sure ya don't kill each other too. Guess that's important, eh?"

The scraggly janitor would extend his hand, as if to shake on it. Regardless of her responses, Ciara would see clear directions to room 103 on this floor if she were to read the directory.

Wingram Academy, Main Building
@Nanaya

---

Ciara looked with mild satisfaction at the directory. She had to assume it was Gulliver's fault they had been torn down in the first place, and now his sabotage was slowly being undone. Her chin jutted out, feeling a bit cross. The shallow-hearted noble deserved his fall from grace yesterday, and having as many of his shreds of evidence removed. It was good to see justice returning to Wingram.

"You didn't back down, did'ja? You had all 'o last night after ya took off, and yet, here you are with a look that betrays intent. Makin' enemies ain't gonna get you anywhere good 'n proper, y'hear? Heh."

She looked up at him, feeling a bit squeamish under his mischievous gaze. She had to remind herself that the janitor wasn't what he appeared to be, especially with how his aura had behaved yesterday, in their first encounter. He likely picked up on all sorts of things, things she would rather keep private. Betrays intent, huh?

Did she intend to make enemies with Iraleth? Is that what she was doing, what her end goal was? With how she admired the inherent light in the paladin, how could she even approach the thought of making enemies with her fr-

"Food, not friend. It will end up on your plate, just as intended."

The Voice was cold, lacking patience as it whispered in her ear.

She swallowed, her lips pressing in a tight line. "I won't hurt it."

"You're right. You're not going to hurt it. You're going to kill it."

A look of sickness passed over Ciara's face as she lost focus on Michael's words, her stomach flipping uncomfortably. She tried to mask it as she looked back up at Michael.

"I'd... do anything to keep myself safe... even if it meant making enemies." Her tone had a note of finality to it. She couldn't tell Michael the whole story, didn't dare to. But he might be one of the few who would understand why she would be fighting so voraciously later that day.

The janitor affirmed he'd be there to watch the match if his work was finished. "I'm not gonna be able to sleep right if I know that kids're killin' each other without me around to see the drama. Oh, and uh, I guess to make sure ya don't kill each other too. Guess that's important, eh?"

She stiffened a bit at that. Was he a mind reader? No. No, not possible. He wouldn't be so calm and collected if he could read the chaos going on in her mind. No one would. She had to take a breath to steady herself, trying to convince her guilty mind that Michael was unaware of the Voices intents with Iraleth. It went without saying that Michael had to be unaware of how far she was willing to go to ensure her safety, especially with how she wanted Iraleth's correspondence. He didn't know. Couldn't know...

Right?

She stared hesitantly at the hand outstretched to her. He would be there to ensure Iraleth didn't die.

"No one can stop us. We will have what we want, one way or another." The Voice was demanding and absolute in her mind.

A pause. Then, she reached out and shook his hand, strength in her grip. Michael was on her side, she had to believe that.

"I think so." She said, a slight smile on her face.

With her free hand, she offered him one of the two pastries she had. "Here, I have extra."

She would wait for the janitor's reply before giving him a slight bow, dismissing herself. She'd follow the directories now in the school, navigating the hallways until she found herself in front of room 103. And, with a breath to steady herself, she'd narrow her eyes and step inside.

“That was a fair bit more dangerous,” Otis spoke, squatting beside his test subject once more. There was scientific evidence that one’s legs were stronger than one’s arms three-fold, so perhaps to compensate, Davil had unconsciously sent triple the usable amount to his arms instead. And, perhaps sensing self-destruction at hand, his prime essence recalled its current bits, bringing everything back before the wind itself could be entirely released. “The imagery you’ve utilized to envision your Ethos may not be well-suited for such purposes, but in this case, at least, it’s possible to do so.”

And if it was possible, then it could be practiced.

The Strigidae’s Adapa expanded once more, showing large chunks of prime essence breaking off, the clear indication of an outwards, rather than upwards, propulsion, only to slingshot back into his core. It was a self-explanatory graphic. Otis offered a waterskin to Davil, one filled with a cold-brew tea, just for him to clear out his throat and wash out any curious tastes in his mouth. “Tell me more about what you’ve just felt, and what you were thinking. As far as the recording goes, I can see that it’s possible once you gain a more granular control over your Prime Essence, but if there is a ‘psychological’ limitation that’s placing itself upon you, that’s something I can only learn from recording your thoughts.”

Which could be done with magic too, but he wasn’t planning on lobotomizing Davil this early on. They took a break just long enough for Davil to finish speaking, before Otis pulled him up to his feet again. Now, what was the process again? Ten seconds for take off, ten seconds for landing, and five seconds to gain control, leaving five seconds for controlled flight.

He’d have liked to experiment with the charging of the Ethos while performing regular movements, to test if it was another ‘limit’ of the Ethos, but for now?

“Third test should be easy enough. Show me the process of your regular flying habits, Davil. Once again, prioritize maximizing your initial burst of speed to ascend as fast as possible. Don’t worry about the landing. We'll use up your remaining time here.”

So, Clover name wasn't Clover. For a brief moment Chunji felt embarrassed, but soon began to rationalize it. Everyone made mistakes and mistakes are what build people from the ground up, there was simply no shame in making them. However, Chunji swore to never make the same mistake again. "I see, Ms... Steeler. I too will apologize, for getting your name wrong and making assumptions." Chunji didn't call the elf by her first name, because he had spaced out due to his embarrassement.

Putting aside Ms. Steeler's grand delusions of narcissism, Chunji listened closely to her woes. So, Chloe was also one of the ones that the Principal has paid attention too. Granted, it seemed Chloe less favored than the ones previously met and she did receive permission in comparison to Emelie's situation. Though that begged a question. "Ms. Steeler, if I may ask, what are you researching?" To have the Principal give permission meant that Chloe's research had some invested interest in it.

There was a lot more questions, but none of them pertained to their topic of alchemy at the moment. For now, Chunji wanted to focus on the alchemical arts before anything else. "In any case are you aware of the person in charge of the workshop? I'd assume that the faculty would have unlocked the doors for you if the Principal Raja gave you permission to do so." Whether it be the Alchemical Professor or a janitor, they'd have the key to unlock the door.

Speaking of which, Chunji scanned the nearby surroundings. "透过现象看本质." The new world had opened to Chunji's eyes once more. He wanted to see if there was anybody nearby, preferably any of the faculty. He'd prefer not to commit breaking and entering within academy grounds. Well, the breaking might have already been done, thanks to Ms. Steeler, but they hadn't entered yet. Chunji assumed it didn't matter whether or not if the workshop was opened or not, as long as they had someone to watch over the experiments it would be fine.

It was going to be like that? Fine. The Strixan girl wasn't wrong to begin with. Iraleth had only been hoping for a point of commonality in resenting Vaal Shakta. But if she didn't want to take the hand offered to her, it wasn't Iraleth's problem. One could only do so much without resorting to force, after all. And she had enough to concern herself over for the day as it was.

"Fair enough." Was all she conceded verbally, inclining her head before turning to leave. The brief thought occurred to her that she'd never gotten the lightbulb starer's name, but the time for that had passed. Perhaps in the future, whenever she saw her again. For now, there was breakfast to think about before classes began.

Choosing her meal upon arrival to the cafeteria had been simple enough. A silver coin for a single meal felt like a waste, to say nothing of two. So Iraleth waited in line for baked goods instead and proferred her two copper for a rather large roll of hot, fresh sourdough with butter. One bite had her reflecting that it was better than most bakeries she'd visited back home, and for a similar enough price.

As Iraleth started to walk out of the cafeteria, Gulliver Bronstead commandeering an entire table with his mannequins caught her gaze. She rolled her eyes in exasperation and started to move on, having better things to do with her limited time before class than to deal with any of that nonsense.

@ERode

COURTYARD

Davil gulped down the tea without hesitation, as if a traveler wandering days without supplies in the summer heat. The boy was quick to tire, but also quick to recuperate, savoring his liquid reward to its every last drop with the same passion as earlier. Whether it was short term memory loss, an unbreakable will, or simple naivete, it never took much to get him back on his feet after a painful experience.

"Well, see, I normally imagine the starting gun - like the kind you'd see in foot races - to help me visualize the starting process. I used to be an ace runner back in elementary, so it's my closest frame of reference, I guess."

Ruffling a hand through his hair, he pondered something a moment, as if something unexpected had entered his thought process. A bead of sweat traced down the side of his face, uncertainty painted clear as day. "But this time, channeling into my hands, it felt different. Sounds. Someone was..."

Pondering, for a longer period than the crimson klutz had ever displayed before, took place. As if he were to speak his next word or words carefully, unsure of how to phrase it, his eyes darted about as if paranoid of something. Finally, he met Otis' eyes once more. "...Crying. Someone was crying, but I dunno where. And once I heard that, it was like every blip of emotional essence in my body rebelled all at once and shut it down. Some weird shit, chum."

After being pulled up and having time to calm down while listening to briefing on the final test of the day, the tester's face squirmed in anxiety. "If you're sure, chum, then I guess. As long as you've got a plan for helping me with the landing, 'cuz I won't even have time left to steer," Davil would accept skeptically, shrugging as he withdrew back to the center of the courtyard to prepare.

Otis would receive a nod and a knowing look from his test subject once he had taken the time for a deep breath in and out. "If I don't make it back, uh... tell that Ciara girl I thought it would've been cool if we got coffee and donuts some time, but that it sucks we couldn't. And maybe tell Leuvalt that his massive throne is surely compensating for something equally tiny in another area of his life."

For the final time that day, Davil took up his position, heels dug into the ground and teeth grit in anticipation. He closed his eyes as he visualized that same racetrack, that same distant road in front of him - impossibly far, intentionally unreachable. It was the same sight he had long grown accustomed to, the same feeling he had long since grown numb to. It was all fine, the odds shown to be against him like this even in his own mind. It was what was needed, after all.

"Linearic Liner!"

The starting gun fired, and seconds passed. Other phantasmal runners took off down the track in his mind, and yet he knew it was fine to wait; with time and patience, he'd surpass them all. He just needed the time to focus. Seconds passed, and wind began gathering around him. This time, however, it was more like an aura enveloping him fully, rather than in a controlled area. He seemed fully at peace, and his prime essence reflected this: raindrops, almost, in a downpour towards his feet. A puddle of energy would slowly form on the ground around him, and at the end of the ten seconds of charging before ascension, it had risen to his ankles. His prime essence was growing dimmer, and by this point, it drained at a rapid rate.

All at once, the entirety of the gathered essence erupted like a volcano. As if shot out of a cannon, Davil rocketed upwards, cracking the ground beneath him as he rapidly ascended further and further into the air. Regardless of its limitations, the speed of this flight surpassed what the Fly spell, or other similar spells granting flight, would accomplish. With the eight seconds that remained after charging, the boy had risen high enough that he could see the entirety of the campus apart from the Iris Record, which still shadowed over him as a looming reminder.

Upon reaching the last second of his Ethos, an unusual shift would occur. An Ethos deactivation would normally consist of the gradual winding down of one's prime essence over multiple seconds, but in the case of Davil, it was as if everything shut off the very moment that the arbitrary time limit had been reached. There wasn't even the potential for the flier to accidentally push himself into rebound - his prime essence had gone from active to dark the very moment he had reached his thirtieth second.

Davil wouldn't notice such intricacies, however; what he instead noticed was that he was now falling, and very quickly at that. His screams echoed across the campus for all outside to hear as he plummeted towards the ground like a brick. He had said his prayers, but the eager beaver of a boy still closed his eyes in prayer regardless - a prayer to Astra that Otis really did have some kind of plan to ensure he didn't unceremoniously paint Wingram's floors and walls with his body.

A coffee date did, well and truly, sound like salvation right about now.

---

@AThousandCurses

APOTHECARY

"What I'm researching is an answer, I guess. An answer to a question from childhood, though I'm not sure what the right way to go about figuring it out would be. Alchemy is just the next attempt to help him, really. I've no strong passion for the subject on my own."

Chloe looked up at the sky as she spoke, watching clouds roll by with her hands on her hips. She was holding back her words, though her sincerity was direct and clear. She'd allow herself to say nothing else on the matter when asked by a stranger, and appeared all too glad to move onto a different topic when it was presented.

"I don't actually know who the alchemy teacher is, though. All I know is that he's some big shot from Golem's Rock up in the NNT. Strigari alumnus too, from what I hear. As for where he is, I can't say I'd know. At this hour, I wouldn't blame him if he were still sleeping. Janitor would definitely have the keys, but I've no idea where he'd be in this place."

Within the vision of Chunji's Ethos, he wouldn't find any notable faculty nearby. Looking towards the workshop, he would see an alchemy lab fit for even commercial use inside, undoubtedly fit for any practice an aspiring alchemist could need. Deeper within, however, he would note a lower floor underground - a basement of sorts, in which he would see a man. The man would be hunched over, passed out with his face pressed firmly against a wooden desk, papers scattered about. If there were ever an individual who fit the stereotype of an exhausted scientist, it'd be this man, asleep seemingly mid-study.

"You're looking... with intent," Chloe would blurt out, walking in front of Chunji's line of sight, her furrowed gaze staring straight at him. "Is that what you do? Your Ethos, I mean?"

---

@Estylwen@Psyker Landshark

MAIN BUILDING/CAFETERIA

"Appreciate it. Best be gettin' on, kid, there's a whole day ahead for ya," Michael said, retrieving his toolbox from the freshly polished floor as he waved Ciara off with a smile before walking in the opposite direction towards his next tasks for the day. Other students passed by her in the halls, seeming to be in much the same situation as her. Some could even be heard arguing with one another, stressing about whether they were assigned to a 'compact' or 'standard' class. Beyond that, though, there was something even more pressing as Ciara neared room 103: the sound of a rapidly approaching rumbling footsteps from behind, closer to a stampede in many ways.

Should she look behind or acknowledge the movement as it passed, Ciara would bear witness to the sight of a bucket-wearing boy charging full sprint ahead, with an animated doll of stone and clay perched atop his head. The doll was making 'woo' and 'wee' noises, cheering and screaming in a childlike voice as it waved its wooden branch wand - though closer to a staff for its size - around as if commanding the boy.

"Onward, onward, onward! We move, we move, Stallion. The knight awaits ahead, yes?!" With a few well-placed bonks to the bucket boy's head with its stick, the bucket would nod enthusiastically up and down. "Aye, m'lord, the knight awaits in the cafeteria. They will abide your request without delay - this, as is known, has been foretold." The bucket's voice, in contrast, was rough and gravelly as if he were a hardened veteran.

They wouldn't acknowledge Ciara as they passed, apart from the doll looking towards her and giving her a nod as they moved by, and turned a corner in the hallway in the direction of the cafeteria. Room 103, as it turned out, was rather close to the cafeteria - within sight at this point, in fact. The pair would disappear down a sharp turn, though they would be heard long after leaving sight.

As Iraleth began to leave the cafeteria, she would hear the thunderous sound of the western side's double doors nearly rattling off their hinges, accompanied by deep asthmatic breathing and triumphant 'wahahahaha' laughter. "Iraleth Kyriooooooos," a child's voice would echo through the entire cafeteria, the sound of a stampeding animal approaching as the bucket boy continued his voiceless charge. "You have been seen and heard, and found acceptable!"

Upon declaring this, the doll would use the momentum of the loyal bucket boy's sprint to flip forward, tumbling many meters in the air before landing on its feet in front of Iraleth. Raising its tree branch wand to point up at the knight, there would be sunny joy and a kingly presence in the doll's expressionless and unchanging face. "As per your performance yesterday, I, King Vassago Re'Gale, have deemed you an ideal candidate for knighthood in my growing party of heroes. As per tradition, you will need to prove yourself in a sanctioned duel against my right hand, Stallion, at a time agreed upon by both parties."

At this, the bucket boy would slowly and silently shuffle his way into frame, giving a half-hearted wave to Iraleth. Vassago would continue, once more waving his wand. "And so the great Stone Monarch comes to you in earnest: will you, the shining knight of angelic wings, join the holy lineage to save our world from evil?! Your light, wings and deeds have indeed dazzled this humble yet demigodly king, you understand, and so the Re'Gale family heir has called upon you, Iraleth Kyrios."

Slamming the end of his twig down on the ground as if passing judgment, the child-voiced doll would continue to stare up at Iraleth as if waiting for a response.

An answer? Ms. Steeler's response was vague but held a complexity that Chunji didn't know whether he should involve himself with. There was too little to go off of, but was Ms. Steeler talking about Rio? Rio fulfilled the criteria of being male and being a bodyguard to Chloe. Though with her calling him a hamster seemed to contradict this hypothesis. Whatever the case, Chunji decided to shelf it for later. It wasn't his business.

"I see." Principal Raja's favoritism seemed to be more apparent than ever. Chunji felt bad when comparing the differential treatment between Chloe and every other student that received Raja's grace. If Raja was clearly interested in Chloe's research, then wouldn't she at least have the Alchemy Professor oversee it? It seemed that perhaps Raja saw this as more of a pet project than any other.

Chunji's eyes narrowed at the ground by the time Chloe had moved herself into his frame of vision. Chloe was right, the Professor was still sound asleep. "Yes," Chunji gave a short response. His transfixed eyes faded away as he turned to look at Chloe. "My Ethos allows me to see what I want to see." It was a simple explaination even though Ethos were fundamentally complicated by nature. "With it, I've located the nearest faculty in the area."

Walking up to the door, Chunji tried to 'neaten' the door as much as he could before continuing. "The Alchemy Professor is currently underground and in a state of unconscious. Judging by his appearance he's seemed to have exhausted himself with his last night's activities." Already the Alchemy Professor surpassed his respect for Principal Raja. It was an incredibly low bar to begin with, but nonethenless, Chunji respect hard working individuals. "If you want you can go find him. Since I lack any permission of the sort, I'll have to remain outside."

Wingram Academy, Main Building, Near the Cafeteria
@Nanaya

---

That's when Ciara slid into the frame, hands crossed in a thinker pose, her features round and almost cute. She stared down at the stone doll, shoulder to shoulder - or should we say - shoulder to elbow with the tall paladin.

“Kinda small, isn't it? For a king, at least.”

The Voice cracked through her mind like a whip, furious. “What are you doing? You're suppose to be preparing for war!”

She sweated a bit, trying to appease them. “Relax, I have a plan.”

“What, let it talk you down by posing as a friend again?”

“You shut up,” she hissed back. “And no, I'm hoping this disarms it. It would make it weaker when we fight if we are somewhat close now.”

The Voices were silent for a moment, before a dark chuckle enamated from the recesses of her mind.

“Clever Hunger. Very well. But remember what we want.”

She appeared a bit blue in the face for a split second. “How could I forget?”

Her eyes glanced from the boy wearing a bucket, to the stone doll, then sideways up at Iraleth. From what she knew of the paladin, when she was committed, she wouldn't shake. But what would cause her to commit? The words of a tiny king?

Then there was the whole ‘it being foretold' business. They couldn't be talking about the Sacred Record. Did the Sacred Record even have a foretelling section…? Then what books were they referring to?

“They could be lying.” The Voice spoke in her mind.

“The little doll is too innocent to be a liar. But…”

Ciara paused, then smirked to herself, eyeing the stone doll again, trying to gauge its aura.

Was it tasty?

Iraleth stared blankly at...whatever this nonsense was for a second longer than was strictly necessary, resisting the urge to bury her face in one palm. Light and Astra, she was surrounded by idiots. What was this? What even was this? Surely, this was simply some utter fool her age and not an actual child accepted into an academy where entrance was predicated with a test based on violence. There was a limit to how nonsensical the last two days could be.

She nodded almost automatically to Clara's comment as the other girl sidled on up next to her. With everything that was going on, Iraleth couldn't be assed to care that they were supposed to duel at dusk. The only thing that could make this utter farce even worse was if Bronsteel decided to open his mouth right here and right now. Thankfully, he seemed to be minding his own business for the moment.

The paladin stared down at the doll and the bucket boy for another long moment, choosing her words carefully.

"I...am afraid I will have to decline. On all accounts. I serve no temporal lord, and am already an anointed knight. There is little for me to prove, and my service will not be restricted to any one mortal master outside of the church's hierarchy. Please accept my apologies." She placed one hand in front of her chest and bowed briefly, hoping that playing along with this nonsense enough would get her out of this situation sooner.

@Estylwen

A starting gun to trigger the activation during proper usage. And the sounds of someone crying when channeled through the hands instead? Something that triggered the activation of emotional essence in order to simply abort the operation.

Otis clicked his tongue. He needed more samples before he could make sense of it. Wingram Academy was rife with them, but how many could he truly be certain possessed an Ethos with such curious restrictions as Davil’s? Was it only a matter of learning one’s Ethos before one learned of their prime essence? How unique was Wund’s scion?

How had it changed, from a gale to a deluge!

The Strigidae’s eyes widened, willing the light to fill his eyes to such clarity that not a single detail could be missed. The nature of Ethos was to accomplish what was incomprehensible for mere magic to, and Davil’s peculiarity finally revealed itself. It was the willingness to risk his very organs for an ascent to the stars. It was strength enough to break free from the shackles of gravity itself. It was human audacity, reaching for the Sun as their wings burned to slag.

It was useful.

Davil plummeted, approaching the earth at a faster and faster rate. He reached terminal velocity, the wind pulling back the flesh of his face as his limbs flailed without purpose. There was no sign of Otis weaving any magic, no sign of Otis pulling out any cushioning from the aether. There was nothing but impact.

Such a swift impact that he must have died without feeling a thing, and now, he was falling still, falling into an abyss of junk-stars and invented constellations. Falling, tumbling, rotating, and then…hm? He could feel himself slowing down, as if instead of falling, he was rising? As if the gravity that chained him had changed its mind, and was now trying to pull him the opposite way?

And then, as he continued to slow, continued to rotate, an asteroid that had lost its way, Davil could see it. A door in front of him, like so many other doors. Opening up, revealing light and life, laughter and the smell of breakfast. Paradise for the hungry and then…

He rolled out from the front door of the cafeteria, tumbling right into the most curious scene enacted between a true knight, an eccentric king, a shadow-witch, and a masked servant.

Otis stepped after, the traces of his Ethos disappearing as the door to the Cafeteria that he had spied the day before returned to its normal state. He looked at what was before him, considered the situation, recalled the principles of work and reward, and finally said, in the flattest voice possible, “Ciara, I can tell you have eaten, but would you care for coffee? Because Davil wants coffee with you, and he may not survive tomorrow.”

So why put off one’s regrets, really?

“And the rest of you are free to join as well. Especially you, Iraleth.”

@AThousandCurses

APOTHECARY

"Asleep?! Khhhhh..."

Chloe stomped over to the door, back hunched over and face a storm of negative emotions. A strong gust of wind shook around her, pressure increasing with each step as she drew closer. Chunji's clothes would flutter as she approached, as if a wild autumn breeze were breaking out in the middle of a grassy field. "Some teacher, waking up later than his students. I'll go give him a first day wakeup that'll change his life!"

Right as a clenched hand was about to plunge through the middle of the door, however, Chloe stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes widened a moment, breath stopped; with Chunji's eyes, he could tell that her heart rate had spiked out of nowhere, her breath caught in her throat as her lungs struggled to push through some kind of shock. Nothing appeared wrong with her physically, but the recognition of something passed through her eyes, and then closed as if in comprehension of something in her head. A sigh escaped her, and all at once, the intense wind around her had dissipated. Her faculties had returned to her, and her body language had returned to a more neutral state.

"Ahem. As I was saying..."

The pink half-elf had seemingly shrugged off both her wrathful persona and her holier-than-thou posturing, shuffling ahead to open the door slowly, her focus looking anywhere but Chunji. Perhaps if she simply moved past it, he wouldn't realize anything even happened? Surely that was the correct play here.

Chloe entered into the dim shed, briefly glancing around before finding the latch with a ladder leading down to the basement. Were Chunji to continue viewing the scene with his Ethos, he would see Chloe descend and approach the sleeping teacher, nearly on the tips of her toes. Rather than the enraged display she spoke of upstairs, the frill-elf decided instead to meekly poke at the man's shoulder and cheek until he stirred. What followed was minutes of them speaking to one another, the man slowly coming to while Chloe appeared to give apology bow after apology bow. Finally, the alchemist would scoop all of his loose papers into a folder and set it within one of his nearby filing cabinets, before beginning his ascent back towards Chunji alongside the now quiet half-elf.

The pair would arrive outside, Chloe slowly shuffling away from the man and closer towards Chunji, looking back at the alchemist. What Chunji would see would be a pale, haggard man slouching his way into the sunlight, the dark bags under his eyes almost seeming to meld into his flesh as permanent scars on his face.

"Dear me, dear me, it appears I dozed the night away. If not for your salient friend here, I fear I may have slept until the turn of the year. A teacher I wouldn't be, were I to laze until 1527. Heheheh..."

The man's chuckle caused his pointed, platinum-esque teeth to chatter, and his voice was a raspy monotone that gave off the air of one who was exhausted and yet tireless at the same time. His eyes burrowed into Chunji's, his thin black orbs staring miles into the boy as he cracked his own bony fingers and neck. They echoed like the snapping of dry bark and dead grass in the woods, and yet the alchemist didn't so much as wince at the sounds his body was making as he relieved himself of his stiffness.

"Arthritis flaring up, too... ah, but where are my manners? I am Lumyr, and in the years to come, I'll teach alchemy, herbology and research on The Decay. Ms. Steeler has already introduced herself, but I trust I'm able to have your name as well, mister...?"

One of those cold, concrete grey hands extended slowly towards Chunji. A grotesque grin formed on Lumyr's face as he continued to stare, unblinkingly, at the boy.

---

@Estylwen@Psyker Landshark@ERode

CAFETERIA

The doll paced back and forth, staff slung over one shoulder as it hobbled back and forth through Iraleth's rejection, expression unclear. It made various 'hmmm', 'heee' and 'hawww' noises as it took in the Astran knight's words. For Ciara's part, as she gazed upon the pair, she would see two things that contrasted heavily: the doll's radiant light that stood out like a campfire in the woods, and the bucket boy's absolute lack of any light at all. The doll had the light of a pure and true saint, while the bucket boy didn't even possess the mundane grey light of the commonfolk, but well and truly nothing at all.

"Alright, very well, I hath decided! You, Iraleth Kyrios, shall be an honorary member. You need not go through trial nor tribulation nor test of mettle, but may stand proud as an unofficial retainer to the Re'Gale family line regardless!"

As this declaration was made, the bucket boy began silently breakdancing in the background in celebration, drawing a small crowd of mildly impressed students golf clapping at the whelming display. A few would make remarks such as, "It's pretty good," or, "Respectable," and for a moment it almost felt as if the world had turned on its head. Even Bronsteel, from a distance at his own table, leaned over visibly to witness the bucket's head-spinning breakdance and gave a sizable, understanding "Huh," before returning to his food on his lonesome.

It was at that moment that the perfectly average display was interrupted by the sudden arrival of two more individuals. Davil crashed into the ground near Iraleth's feet, startling the doll backwards and causing the small crowd to disperse in surprise. The winged boy looked up at the ceiling while breathing like a hunted animal, having seen the pearly gates seconds prior before returning to this side of reality. Or had he? It might've been a stress induced hallucination, but he'd probably never know for sure.

"I'm alive? I'm alive! Woooo!"

Davil jolted to his feet as Otis spoke, and quickly his joy turned into a blushing heap scrambling against the Strigidae's coat to 'shhh' him - but all too late, as the words had already escaped in that ever so stabbing matter-of-fact tone. Turning to Ciara with tomato cheeks, the crimson klutz would shrug and smile, and promptly shake his head defiantly. "Don't even worry about what the ol' chum's saying there, Ciara. He's probably crazy, or drunk, or something. You know how he is, I think."

The stone doll would proceed to slowly walk over and deliver a small kick to Davil's shin, which while not painful, did cause the boy to shamble to the side a few steps from the surprise. Davil would shout, "Heeeey! Someone's lost their familiar or their golem or something, someone restrain that thing."

"Oi. Shove off, you. His Majesty, me, was just finishing up the royal proceedings for the day," the doll would retort with a biting tone that was not present previously. "You are excused, Iraleth Kyrios."

Davil would simply turn to the rest of the group in confusion, shrugging once again as he backed away from the doll.

Wingram Academy, Main Building
@Nanaya, @ERode

---

The moment the scent of mouth-watering light radiated off the little stone doll, the Voices cackled in Ciara's mind.

"Well, if you fail with the precious one, this little morsel will do." The Voice was cold and filled with malice. And Ciara, staring at the petite little doll and its inherent innocence, had to agree. It had enough light to ease the pain in her stomach, if Iraleth-

Wait.

Ciara slapped hands to her cheeks, having the opposite reaction as the bucket-wearing boy began to breakdance. She wasn't supposed to be agreeing with the Voices! She wasn't supposed to be planning on eating Iraleth! She should be considered with other things, like why the bucket-boy appeared dead!

Her hands moved to her stomach, where there was an infinite void gurgling away, ripping apart her insides.

How long could she keep this up? How long... until she gave in to this pressure?

The only thing that drew Ciara out of her dilemma was a tell-tale door opening, Davil rolling into the group, and Otis following closely after him. Ciara stared in shock, black hair ruffled in the sudden commotion, before she shook herself, and gave Otis a piercing gaze.

Otis was here. Now she didn't have to hunt him down.

Ignoring Davil's tomato cheeks and obvious embarrassment, as she couldn't understand exactly why Davil appeared so flustered, she instead made a beeline for Otis, wrapping an arm around his neck and leading him to the side of the cafeteria where they were serving students.

"You read my mind, Otis. Let's go for that coffee."

When they were a few paces away, she let go of him and leaned in, keeping her voice to a near-whisper, ensuring her voice didn't carry. "I need your help."

Her eyes were fierce. "Tonight, I'm... I need to get into an off-limits place. And I need your Door to do it."

"You...honor me with this." Iraleth barely managed to avoid grinding her teeth in irritation. Astra above, please let this be the end of it. As it stood, not even the spectacle of the bucket boy breakdancing particularly impressed her through the annoyance she was feeling. All she had wanted was to get breakfast and leave for class, not be accosted by a mummer's spectacle!

Otis's invitation caught her attention, and she glanced over to the Strigdae with a raised eyebrow. "Especially" her? His scheming yesterday already had her on guard enough to not trust that he didn't have some sort of ulterior motive behind this. Davil's intentions in comparison were refreshingly obvious, if eyeroll-inducing. Small wonder Clara completely ignored him. Or perhaps she didn't exactly understand what a blushing teenage boy was thinking, especially without using his brain. Regardless, Clara could handle herself. Not that she would listen to Iraleth at this point, anyway.

"You realize we do have class soon, yes? I'd prefer to not be late on our first day. Or at all, preferably." She took another bite of her bread roll, chewing and swallowing while waiting for Clara to finish with Otis. Once she did, Iraleth continued. "If you insist, only if they have takeaway cups."

@ERode

Otis stared at Davil as the blushing boy tried to deflect, to obscure, the obvious. Did the Wund scion believe himself to be unreadable? Did he believe in the brilliance of a perfect scenario, blind to the value of imperfect scenarios? No, that couldn’t be it.

He was just shy.

The Strigidae let out a sigh. “Opportunities that are not grasped become regrets,” were his last words, before Ciara pulled him away, pointedly ignoring Davil in the process. Was she wholly disinterested in him then? Or was she simply just as incredibly dense? Or was she actually fairly interested, but possessed enough of a poker face that she wasn’t reduced to a blushing mess at the prospect of a surprise morning encounter? He made a mental note to interrogate Davil after, to ascertain the depths of his affections for Ciara. He’d do the same for Ciara too, at a more appropriate time.

Of course, during all this thinking, Otis didn’t even consider how it must look for Davil, to see his roommate be immediately pulled away by the girl he was interested in, as she (didn’t actually) stood on the tips of her toes to whisper a secret into his ear.

“I can only open a Door where I have been before,” he replied in an even tone. Iraleth was coming over. “We can discuss this transaction at a latter time.”

And like that, the paladin was upon them, practically towering over the two students. Must be the elf blood, coupled with plenty of nutrition. “I know little about the church,” Otis said. “And while it’d be lovely to have a conversation with you in regards to the practices, beliefs, and hierarchy of such an influential organization, I recognize that your time is running out, so I will present you with this instead.”

There were things that his Adapa knew and things that he knew. Though the spiritual-grimoire had been bound to his essence, there was no guarantee that its creator could not have placed something inside it to allow for clandestine access of its contents.

“Swear that what you see shall not be shared with any other, except with my approval. In return, I ask only that you act upon this knowledge as you wish.”

Iraleth squinted in suspicion at Otis, but eventually gave a solemn nod.

"I swear it, upon my sword."

Arcane murmurings and gesticulations upon his brow, drawing out the essence of memory and experience that he had plucked second-hand from the delusions of an unbroken Adapa. Faint light collected in the palm of his hand, before compressing into a needle of prismatic brilliance that shot into Iraleth’s left eye.

…

Dark cellar. Small form. Encaged. Two forms.

One. North Rekordian accent. Tall. Masculine. Settling a debt. She was that debt.

Two. Small. A beautiful, but unaccented, voice. Slight as shadow. Eyes like emeralds, and, from behind, a giant eye, splitting that murky void. She succeeded in something. She was working for someone. She needed her for something.

Goetia will fall.

…

While Iraleth enjoyed that experience, Otis got his own food...from his pocket pouch, after seeing that it wasn’t free. Stepping out of the line without even having picked up the coffee that he said he would have, the Strigidae sipped on a canteen of tea in-between bites of pemmican while motioning the others to come sit with him.

“Setting aside personal business, how was the remains of yesterday? Let’s swap information regarding this academy.”

The 'Doctor' watched as another disaster called 'Ms. Steeler,' was coming through. The look on her face made her intentions to obliterate the door move evident as she stomped over. Thankfully, Ms. Steeler didn't blow down the door. There was hint of approval from Chunji as she watched the elf calm herself down, but made no comment. Ms. Steeler disappeared into the lab, leaving Chunji to his own devices.

School was truly an enigma. His parents taught him everything he had to know and didn't allow him go to the lectures at the town they resided in. More often than not, Chunji often heard complaints from his peers about the subject. It was along the lines of 'troublesome,' and 'completely boring.' From his point of view, Chunji was considering their words to be utterly wrong with his experience. Between fighting to death to attend school, having a ticking time bomb as a classmate, a potential possessed librarian, and a lot more to it.

"I should write a letter home soon," Chunji mumbled to himself. Mother and father would have been elated to hear that he was able to pass through the academy's initiation.

Chunji straightened his posture once he heard the arrival of two steps. One, he presumed, belong to Chloe and the other the Alchemical Professor. Needless to say, medical terms could perfectly describe what Chunji was looking at. The Alchemical Professor in front of him was gaunt, almost like a skeleton. Signs of exhaustion were evident and Chunji wouldn't be surprise if the Professor had developed some sort of stomach problem judging by how thin he was.

"My name is Chunji Yi, I'm new student as of yesterday. It is a pleasure to meet you Professor Lumyr," Chunji gave a bow to the Professor. Professor Lumyr, like the other faculty, seemed to be percuilar character as well. It would be in Chunji's best interest to get along with Mr. Lumyr in the upcoming future. As his Alchemical Professor, Chunji expected to see him a lot in the future.

Though for now, Chunji just stared at the hand extended in front of him. Why was the Professor Lumyr giving out his hand? Was Chunji suppose to give him something? Deciding that's what the hand gesture meant, Chunji dug into his pocket. Procuring a bottle full of vitamins, Chunji gave it to the Professor. "I'll be in your care in the future."

@AThousandCurses

APOTHECARY

Another teeth-chattering chuckle left the skeletal man's mouth as he gently nudged the bottle back into Chunji's hand. With a raised eyebrow and the ever increasing indentation of his dimples, Lumyr would shake his head. "Dear boy, I didn't ask for an offering. Such a gesture is a show of good faith, you see. Have you never shook another's hand before?"

Chloe would look over with raw confusion and the slight urge to suppress a giggle of her own, nudging Chunji in the shoulder. Looking over at him with smug side-eye, she'd say, "I suppose you're full of all kinds of surprises, hm? You can see through buildings and underground, but not simple gestures in front of you."

The half-elf would cross her arms in amusement before continuing in a playful tone, saying, "I'll take note of that."

Eyeing from one student to the other, the alchemist in front of the two of them would continue to wear that skin-stretching grin, wrinkles becoming more visible by the second. "Regardless, it is a pleasure to meet the two of you, Ms. Steeler, Mr. Yi," Lumyr would interject with the fingertips of both of his hands slowly aligning with one another in front of him. "But I must sincerely apologize, for you see, the alchemy lab is closed at the moment. I trust you'll both find yourselves to Compact 3 in classroom 103 in good faith, with no thoughts of truancy clouding your minds?"

He'd continue to unblinkingly eye them both, eager to hear an answer. Chloe would glance at Chunji with a look of slight concern, her body shifting to turn away from the professor and her arms slowly wrapping around as if to guard herself from an imperceivable threat.

"Unless there was something else on your minds, or anything else you may be curious about regarding the curriculum?" Lumyr would ask this final question with a shrug, taking a half-step away from them slowly.

---

@Estylwen@Psyker Landshark@ERode

CAFETERIA

Davil's blushing turned to more of a sheet pale complexion once Ciara began to walk away with Otis. Trying to brush off the unknowing rejection, he nodded his head with a nervous chuckle. He fiddled with his sleeves, as if trying to find purpose where there simply was none, before abandoning the attempt to save face altogether. The boy's hands would withdraw behind him, back standing up straight as he let out a small 'ahem', signaling his desire to maintain a mote of presence.

"W-Well, I'll be on my way now. We'll all catch up later, I'm sure. Ahahaha. Ahaha. Ahahaha! Aha..."

With a desire to turn invisible increasing by the second, Davil instead settled for exiting stage left, feebly retreating out the western doorways towards classroom 103. He maintained his composure on the outside to those who weren't savvy in reading people, but to anyone that bore witness to him with even the slightest talent for perception? The boy was dying inside, and longed for nothing more than to flee before things got any worse for him. Such was hormonal teenage angst, in the end.

King Vassago, on the other hand, proudly took his leave atop the head of bucket boy. Trumpets sounded out throughout the cafeteria in celebration, though it was unknown where they were originating from. A red carpet was rolled out the southern exit towards the fountain and entry bridge, though it was unknown when said carpet had arrived.

"Onward, my steed! The Re'Gale family continues its search," Vassago would proudly declare, and the duo would rush off into the horizon, leaving sight entirely as the doors slammed behind them. Nobody would dwell on this long, as the time for caring had suddenly left entirely with their exit as if blown away by a fierce gale.

With that, the path was clear for the remaining members of Compact 3 to discuss what they would in the cafeteria at their leisure. Life in this house of delicious morning foodstuffs had once more returned to its place of chaotic and crowded normalcy, with them simply another mundane table in its midst.

The decision to make the oath hadn't been easy. Iraleth was naturally suspicious of Otis already, and whatever he was up to now wasn't helping. Still, she had every intention of keeping her promise. After all, if she didn't like what she saw, Otis's oath had no injunction against Iraleth taking action herself.

All she saw, however, only served to raise more questions than answer her suspicions. What had all of that been about? What was Goetia? And furthermore, why her? This wasn't the place to ask, though. Inquiring now was dangerously close to violating the oath, given the amount of people around to overhear. Furthermore, no reasonable person would bother speaking of the matter in public anyway.

Instead, Iraleth simply gave Otis the stink eye as she followed him out of line without him so much as acquiring the coffee he'd promised. If he was going to be like that, she saw little need to answer his question. And besides, explaining the situation with Ciara sounded like a terrible idea. The duel shouldn't even be happening, much less turn into a public spectacle. The less who knew, the better. As the Strigdae sat, Iraleth caught Ciara's eye.

"Do as you will." She said flatly, turning to leave. "There wasn't much remaining yesterday worth speaking of. I'll see you in class."

@ERode @Estylwen

Wingram Academy, Main Building
@Nanaya, @ERode, @Psyker Landshark

---

“I can only open a Door where I have been before. We can discuss this transaction at a latter time.”

“It will work.” The Voice was exuberant in her mind. “We can show the dark one where to go.”

But she quickly wiped the mischievous look off her face as Iraleth quickly loomed over them.

Otis mentioned a transaction. What was he referring to? Would there… be a fee for procuring his talents? She was familiar with the term, as her old side hustles delved into the such. But she had a strong feeling Otis wasn't interested in money. Did he have need of her talents…?

Ciara sighed, and took a step back.

While Otis spoke with Iraleth about secrets of his own, Ciara's eyes gazed around the cafeteria. The pet had… slunk away? To where? Was it safe? She had to assume yes, as the school was no longer under a barrage of Mannekin as it was yesterday. The only Mannekin to speak of, that she knew, were in the cafeteria itself, minding their own business. Along with Gulliver.

A part of her briefly wanted to watch him flinch at her approach, but she let the thought slide. Now was not the time, nor the place.

“Setting aside personal business, how was the remains of yesterday? Let’s swap information regarding this academy.”

Ciara wrapped her hands around one of the coffee's-to-go, the bitter aroma welcoming. She moved to sit as Otis called the group to attention, but Iraleth caught her eye. It made her heart skip a beat, for a moment.

”There wasn't much remaining yesterday worth speaking of. I'll see you in class.” Iraleth said, making Ciara blink in confusion as Iraleth walked away. Iraleth purposefully withheld information about their duel. Was that what her look was about?

But why?

Did she not trust Otis?

“The darkness is comforting, as well as biting.” Said the Voice in her mind, a deep baritone.

“What do you mean?”

“The dark one is trusted, but with the expectation of betrayal.”

“Why would…”

“It's the nature of darkness to seek itself first.”

“Ah.”

She took the lid off and blew on her coffee, wholly distracted by the Voices, making the pause at the table drawn into a poignant silence.

Then she looked up at Otis, ignoring Iraleth's unspoken advice, and admitted, “Iraleth and I got into a fight. Showdown is in the Iris Record… Tonight, 6PM.”

She took a sip of her coffee, unwilling to say why. Iraleth, of course, was right on the money when it came to suspecting her, and Ciara was the unmovable boulder that refused to give any answers. Refused to confess the truth. Refused to spell her own death sentence.

She stared glumly over her coffee, before taking another sip, sitting in silence, listening. Before she would say, “We should… head to class.” after anything else Otis would try to say.

And she would do exactly that, after the conversation in the cafeteria concluded, feeling a little more somber than normal.

Maybe the reality of the duel was… finally sinking in.

Well, their silence was a bit meaningless, really. What did they think Otis was, an unfeeling machine who had never obtained companions before? A complete asocial buffoon who made no efforts to understand human emotion and the roots of irrationality? He simply raised an exasperated brow, first at Iraleth for making a bold-faced lie, then at Ciara for thinking that he couldn't fill in the blanks by himself. Couldn't fill in the blanks, when it was obviously an extension of the question that had been poised just one day ago.

What are you?

"Well, make sure you've eaten dinner at 5PM then. It helps to have replenished yourself before a fight, and something warm would help settle the nerves too," Otis replied, leaning back. "As for myself, it was both about as productive and unproductive as one may expect when there's still so many restrictions in place. The Iris Record that you'll be fighting in is considered a nexus of the artificial leylines that have been constructed over Wingram Academy. Chances are high that Iraleth would have a definitive advantage there then, considering how uncommon divine conduits are to begin with." After all, what was more difficult than artificially imparting what had to be divinely given? "Of course, it also serves as the dormitory for students of special circumstances and possess high-enough security that they wouldn't even let anyone in properly through the front doors, so they will likely have defensive arcane measures around the dueling room itself to prevent anything unfortunate from spilling out."

The Strigidae had a bit of a poignant pause himself, wondering just how dangerous knowledge of Raja's activities would prove to be. She had been lax in terms of watching her back, for sure, not protecting her secrets in a way that indicated it was a secret worth protecting, but while he expected Iraleth to provide a particular perspective regarding shadowy figures speaking of the fall of Goetia, what did he expect out of Ciara?

"It's a shame that this is your first duel though, rather than one with Gulliver. I'd have liked an opportunity to study the Foreteller's capability from a safer distance." He had an understanding of the elven paladin's own powers, after all. There was less mystery, less intrigue, when one simply had the power to become a hero, stalwart and kind. "But regardless, Ciara, I'll be your second."

He stood up with her, his body tilting downwards so he could catch her gaze even when her countenance was gloomy and affixed to the floor. The truce persisted, but Otis would've been lying if he wasn't simply grabbing an opportunity made from the irrationality of his peers. Who could have known, that it'd take less than a day for duels to be brought into the proving grounds?

"You are doing this because you can't afford to lose, right? If not, then I can puzzle out how to make for a reasonable defeat instead.

A handshake?

"Oh, my apologises," Chunji said without an ounce of embarrassement. The redness of his ears, however, betrayed his true feelings over his misinterpretation. Receiving the vitamin bottle back from Professor Lumyr, Chunji glance at Ms.Steeler. To be more accurate, it looked like a glare that, but it wasn't. "I am relatively inept with social skills. In future cases where small mistakes like these happen, I'd be grateful if you were to be patient." Hopefully that would not be the case.

Though aside from that little debacle, there wasn't much more to say. The workshop wouldn't be open for a while longer, which meant there wasn't a point in staying around. Chunji's intentions was to locate if there was workshop, but now that he had located it, he'd visit it at a later time.

Though it seemed that his expressions seemed to have disturbed Ms. Steeler, not that he could blame her.

"While, I do have questions, they'll most likely be answered in the future," Chunji finally said. If anything, Chunji would have like to ask advice on where to start with alchemy. After all textbooks were supplementary, the true knowledge came from the person who experienced them. "In any case, I will have to depart canteen. I have yet to eat today." Giving another bow to the Professor Lumyr, he turned to leave. "Have a good day Professor Lumyr, Ms. Steeler."

With that he left the area.

It didn't take long for him to arrive at the cafeteria. In the corner of his eye, Chunji could make out a few figures. The owlboy, knight, and the shadow were talking amongst themselves. Gulliver, in his pompous ways, was sitting by himself as Chunji didn't count the mannequin surrounding him as people.

None of it matter much to him as he went to get breakfast. Walking up to one of the lines, Chunji ordered food from one them.