[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/qSXKgkY.png[/img]
[sub][@Nanaya][@Estylwen][/sub][/center]
So she didn't want to lose, and would strive to win by any means necessary, but now, hours before the duel began, she was now feeling anxious about it? Otis stared at Ciara, at the emotional turmoil, the chaotic essence that swirled within her like moon-pulled tides against an underground cove. He wondered, briefly, what there was to do about it. If she lost this duel, would that mean that their transaction later that night would become void? Or did such [i]dark[/i] emotions serve as a finer fuel than the 'determination to win' when it came to manifesting her Umbralist magics? There were plenty of questions, but in the end...

[b]"If you're going to be sick, then stay sick."[/b]

He wasn't the sympathetic sort.

[b]"Just because you can't lose, doesn't mean you must win."[/b]

With that, Otis opened the door and stepped in.

It was a bright room, warmed by the sunlight that illuminated it. From his understanding of the layout of the building, the courtyard was adjacent to Compact 3, serving as an excellent distraction for students who had no intention of being students. Fools they were, to not appreciate the sheer gravity of the essence that flowed through this room. Back in Rekordia, he had to travel to the outskirts just to get a lick of an arcane conduit, had accomplished most of his arcane studies through pure theory and visualizations. Here? There were ritual rooms in Vaal Shakta that paled in comparison to the fluctuations he had sensed. The hairs on his arms rose up, even beneath the thick sleeves of his overcoat, as Otis scanned the room. If this was what was afforded for one of many classrooms, what could he expect from the proving grounds?

What could he accomplish, with free access to just [i]this[/i] room? Otis chewed on his thumbnail, his brow furrowing, going over all the experimentations, all the demonstrations, all the conjurations. It wouldn't provide an advantage in combat, necessary, for it would amplify any employment of essence, but if one only wanted to accomplish something grand? It would be wonderful!

Which meant, of course, that he [i]had[/i] to secure the optimal spot.

Rapid steps brought him to the middle of the front row, the Strigidae not even glancing at the notes stuck upon the desks. Position mattered, not name. It didn't even matter really that he closed in on the same desk that someone else did. A half-elf. The pink-haired one that had practically been carried through the entire entrance examination by the shield-surfer. Whatever injuries she had received that rendered her useless were gone now, but Otis didn't care either way. There were greater incompetents out there amongst the student population that still reached the auditorium with their own two feet, regardless of the Mannekins or Valen's grandstanding. To be lesser than them?

[b]"I do not recognize you,"[/b] he said, pulling the sticky note off the desk. [b]"So you must be Chloe Steeler. Here's your note. We will swap desks."[/b] There were only a handful of students, a handful of desks. He could calculate where his desk ought to be at a glance. [b]"Mine is at the back, beside the courtyard windows. I am certain someone like you would prefer this arrangement as well."[/b]

Seating arrangements may have been set by the professor, of course, but that was another bridge to cross at another time. If it came down to it, after all, Otis was wholly fine with simply having his work accredited to Chloe when it came to in-class assignments and participation.