[@Estylwen][@Psyker Landshark][@ERode][@AThousandCurses][@Sifr]

[b][h3]CLASSROOM 103[/h3][/b]

Chloe leaned away from Otis, her eyes darting about the room at the faces of her fellow students of Compact 3. Her focus half-turned towards Otis as she cupped her hands together, spite taking hold of her. "How could you think I'd just say yes to that? Front of the class is my stars given right, and I won't be denied it just like [i]that[/i]."

Glancing elsewhere for a few moments, her attention met Rio, who was now staring dead at her while ignoring Davil's mundane corner ramblings about whether crunchy or smooth peanut butter was superior. Their silent exchange was brief, but telling. With a softening of her previously sharp features, Chloe looked directly at Otis, her sunset irises showing defiance, and after another moment... resignation. As quick as that, she raised a welcoming hand towards her former desk out in front, and pouted like a child. While still looking at him, she'd say, "I-I suppose you can have it, yes. This will, indeed, be to both of our benefits. Just... some more manners next time, maybe? Some pleasantries wouldn't hurt."

The frill-elf retreated slowly to her new seat at the back corner by the window, sulking as she turned her attention to the courtyard outside. As the clock ticked down to the turn of the hour, Rio and Davil also took their respective seats - Rio now directly in front of Chloe by the window, and Davil off in the opposite corner in the back. As conversations died down, leaving nothing in its place but anticipation, the door once more swung open as the final moments of 8:59 were preparing to roll over to 9:00.

A [url=https://i.pinimg.com/564x/04/c6/60/04c6602eb0009ebfc273884af58e77ef.jpg]young man in a blue tunic[/url] nearly slid through the doorway, leather traveler's bag in one hand and sheathed longsword in the other. Tossing each haphazardly onto his desk while still only just standing inches from the entrance, they landed perfectly on top with not so much as a clatter. His eyes were wide with anxiety and his breathing was arrhythmic, hands on his knees as he leaned against himself. He'd mutter, "Made it," to himself with a triumphant chuckle as he did his best to regain his composure.

Taking a deep exhale, he turned to look at the class before him. "Good to meet all of you. I'll be the primary teacher and overseer of Compact 3 for the year. My name is-"

While pacing towards his desk, chest puffed in an effort to look official, the man tripped over his own feet and stumbled into his office chair, doing several spins before slamming hard against his desk. A thousand yard stare plagued him for several seconds as his heart beat like a jackrabbit, before brushing it off as if it were part of the process. A planned, stylish jump, rather than an ongoing mental battle against first day jitters, clearly.

"My name is Alto. I'm twenty two years old, I have a pet goat named Vermilion, and I'm guilty of losing many paycheques every year gambling over Strigari Academy's skirmish tournament. I'll be Compact 3's teacher in the ways of essence manipulation, the history of essence's uses, and in refining each of your Ethos... Ethosi? Whatever the plural is."

Alto withdrew a thermos from his bag, uncorking it, allowing the scent of strong, bitter mixed spices and meats to overtake the room as he took a sip of some kind of steaming homemade stew. His posture loosened as he did so, sighing in relief as a warm smile graced his features. Finally, he would set it on his desk and clear the space of clutter as he looked out among the class with a more focused expression.

"Today's topic will be on survival. There's no point in preparing you guys as defenders of the Union and beyond if you haven't even grasped the basics of keeping your own body working in battle. And so today, we'll be focusing on a coating-type application of essence: the Personal Barrier, otherwise known as PB for short. You'll be seriously maimed or dead in seconds without it, against the kind of opponent that would threaten national stability."

Wiping a bit of sleep from his eyes, the teacher peered over his desk to make eye contact with Hildegunde, his brow furrowing, seemingly having just noticed her for the first time. Running a hand through his short windswept hair, he'd glare at her in confusion for a few moments before speaking. "If you wouldn't mind heading to your seat, before we begin, miss? Please and thank you, with a hint of cherry on top."

Regardless of whether Hildegunde complied, Alto would continue with a slow sweeping gesture of his hand across the class, stating, "And also before we begin in full, how about a little bit from each of you? Your age, a fun fact, an unfun fact, and what you hope to accomplish this year within Wingram's confines. I'm sure we'll get to know each of our abilities intimately, so why not start with something a bit simpler like that? Whoever wants to start first may do so - I [i]hope[/i] we're all mature enough to where I don't need to pick!"