[IC] Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP (Page 3)

| Zayas Island - The Former Black Site
A hush fell over the gathered group of black-robed individuals as the last few stragglers entered the abandoned prison on Zayas Island. The H.E.L.P. Black Site had fallen into disuse following the Alexandria Foundation’s acquisition of its former inmates. Very few resources were spent to maintain it and over the past year, security patrols had become essentially non-existent allowing some new inhabitants to move in.

If you stopped a random student on campus and asked them to name off the Pacific Royal houses, they would likely give you an answer consisting of eight distinct names; Alces, Canis, Gulo, Lutra, Lynx, Myotis, Strigidae and Ursus. But there were those on campus who knew of a ninth house, a house founded in secret that had an ideology separate from the school’s equalitarian beliefs. Founded by the Children of Hyperion, House Orcinus continued to operate and flourish undiscovered even after Hyperion’s defeat four years ago.

In Hyperion’s stead, House Orcinus was led by the individual known as Hyperion’s Voice or simply the Harbinger. The Harbinger had led the cult-like sect for the last four years and thus far managed to evade the detection of the school’s faculty leading many among the House to speculate that the Harbinger themselves was a member of Pacific Royal’s staff.

Looming over the assembled House Orcinus, the Harbinger’s eyes narrowed from behind the mask that obscured their face beneath the oversized hood and robes.

“Interlopers have come to P.R.C.U.” They stated, addressing the equally robed and masked attendees. 

“I cannot stress enough how each of you must exercise extreme caution in attending these meetings and whispering of House Orcinus outside these walls. That said,” The Harbinger paused, smiling beneath their mask.

“I do believe the Alexandria Foundation's goals align more with our own. Yes, I am not oblivious to the fact they are currently running operations against our brethren across the globe. But, they are simply placating the powers at be, I know the Foundation valued Hyperhuman strength. In your masks-” The Harbinger stated, referring to the students’ everyday lives. 

“Befriend the Foundation, infiltrate them from within and we shall use our strength for ourselves. We are House Orcinus, we are the punishers of H.E.L.P.’s broken oath to Hyperhuman kind.”
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - Dundas Islands, Pacific OceanWelcome Home #1.041: Unprecedented Whiplash
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Interaction(s): NonePreviously: The More Things Change, The More They Stay The Same

All across campus, the trumpet sounded rousing the students to a new day and a new semester. Done were the casual days of summer as the campus grounds became filled with uniform-clad students carrying out their community contributions before moving to the Mess Hall for breakfast with each task completed. 

The Mess Hall was abuzz with excitement and chatter as the students who opted not to dine privately within their dorms, reunited with classmates from their team and house alike while meeting the new students who had spent the last few nights in the Administrative building’s temporary rooming.

The masses moved across campus, though numbers were notably diminished compared to previous years as more students had graduated in the past few years than new enrollments had come in. Still, several hundred students were attending Pacific Royal and all were moving unanimously towards the same location. 

As they had in previous years, Team Blackjack had been instructed to meet their faculty representative, Thaddeus ‘Tad’ Finch outside the Mess Hall before formally moving to the Chimera’s Lair together.

One by one, each member of the team arrived, with the last member being no surprise to the others due to their history of being perpetually tardy. Steeling his expression as several remarks arose from the team’s peanut gallery, Tad beckoned the team to follow him as they made the short journey from the Mess Hall over to the stadium. 

“Alright Blackjack, looks like everyone is accounted for. Any stragglers can catch up, you all know the drill by now.”

Formerly the student advisor to the Team, both Tad and Blackjack had outgrown that role. As a senior class, they too were now expected to act as Student Advisors to younger teams while they themselves no longer required a person in said role. Tad instead now operated as their faculty representative, advocating on their behalf in academic disputes. Tad’s mentor and now School Chancellor, Jim O’Neil had built a repertoire with the team over the last couple of years and had both the patience and a method for dealing with some of the Blackjack students that Tad himself was yet to master. 

The Chimera’s Lair was alive with elevated energy as students new and old piled into the stadium seats. Coming from their breakfast, whether from the mess hall or their dorms, the students were eager to kick off the semester and nothing did that quite as effectively as the Opening Ceremonies.

Finding their assigned seats, Tad motioned for Blackjack to file in quickly as the team rearranged themselves for optimum seating. Couples pairing up while the inseparable friends likewise made sure they were seated beside one another. It was almost predictable at this point how Blackjack would arrange themselves, even with new additions like Amma, Gil and Harper among the team.

"ATTENTION!" A loud voice came from the podium centred on the stage in the middle of the field below them. To the right side of the stage, a small orchestra was situated, while in the center of the stage was a large bronze statue of a Chimera. All along the back of the stage were the eight house emblems, emblazoned on large banners while chairs waited for the House Faculty Representatives. The empty chairs were quickly filled by the school’s faculty who emerged from behind the stage. Flanked by two bagpipe players, the orchestra's conductor stood up signalling for the orchestra to join in as the opening notes swelled, filling the stadium.

"All rise for the national anthem!" 

As the anthem finished, the band continued to play while several students emerged from behind the stage parading flags from all around the world, acknowledging that not everyone gathered here was Canadian. 

With the anthems done, the crowd took their seats again while Winter Caspian, the Director of H.E.L.P. itself took the stage. Addressing the crowd before her she thanked each one of the students for their efforts in continuing to challenge the world's opinion on Hyperhumans for the better and expressing her excitement in working with the most recent graduates. Ending her piece, Winter turned toward the faculty behind her.

“It’s my pleasure now to welcome to the stage your newly elected Chancellor, a man instrumental in defeating Hyperion and a dear personal friend, James O’Neil!” 

Applause could be heard across the stadium, though far less enthusiastic as in previous years. James ‘Jim’ O’Neil had been a teacher and student faculty representative for years prior to his appointment to Chancellor, though arguably the man was most famous for partaking in the defeat of Hyperion and his predecessor. 

“I have to say, I didn’t reckon I’d ever be the one addressing y’all from this podium when I first came to Pacific Royal,” He paused to flash a wry grin, “Let’s just say a few years ago.” Subtle laughter could be heard rippling across the bleachers surrounding the green the podium stood on.

“I was just a boy when I first stepped off that ferry. Soon after, I became a member of both Team 21 and House Lutra.” Cheers came from the students dotting the stadium bearing the blue coat of arms as Blackjack added a couple hoots of their own.

“It was here on this island that I found not only a family, but also a home. This island, this school and its campus, it is my hope that each of you find it just as welcoming now as I did then. I hope that you look at the people beside you, the people you share a dorm with and you see not only friends, but people who you can rely on and trust indiscriminately. Sure, families aren’t perfect, you might not see eye to eye with each of them; I know some of you probably have a member on your team that’s a bit different from everyone else, or someone who intentionally stir the pot.”  Jim seemed to pause for a second, his eyes darting towards Blackjack before continuing.

“With that in mind, I’d like to bring y’alls attention to a special visitor.” He continued motioning to the members of the Alexandria Foundation lingering around the podium.

“As a part of our ongoing efforts to improve the school and do best by each of you, Pacific Royal is looking at collaborating with the Alexandria Foundation. Now, I know we’re used to sending them packing on the Hyperball field.” Jim chuckle, raising a fist as he did so.

“GO CHIMERAS!” He yelled which elicited cheers from the stadium.

“But, we’re looking for your cooperation in making Ms. Torres and her fellow Foundation members feel as welcome as you would a new student. The Foundation will be auditing classes and learning how we do things at Pacific Royal. Be sure to sure them why our Chimeras are the best.” Jim explained, taking a pause while shuffling a couple cards in front of himself. He cleared his throat before continuing.

“Sadly, this isn’t all pomp and circumstance, I do have to rain on this parade.” He could feel the weight of the announcement in his chest while he continued to speak. Beside Jim, Miranda steeled her expression, but he could hear her telepathically reassuring him. 

In all his years, he had never seen Jonas; or was it Kowalski, make an announcement that could have had such a profound impact on the student body.

“Given the current societal climate, circumstances beyond our control have conspired to invalidate our accreditations. To be straight with y’all, Pacific Royal has recently lost its accreditations for our degree programs in the engineering, law and medical fields. Students currently completing those will graduate with a degree not recognized for career certifications.” He took a moment to gather his words, already hearing the murmurs moving through the student body like wildfire.

“Rest assured, we are working around the clock to get approval for credit transfer to several distinguished universities in both Canada and the United States. We do not want your hard work to go to waste. The Bureau has agreed to pay tuition for any student who chooses to transfer along with helping relocate students to their new campus. I understand going to another school is not ideal-”

Watching as Jim delivered the news to the gathered student body, the Alexandria Foundation’s representative suddenly had a shift in body language. Her stoic demeanour turned smug as she gestured for her aid to step closer. Obliging Torres’ request, Miss Almassian stepped forward and extended a finger in front of her boss’ mouth as Torres spoke over Jim.

"Provided Pacific Royal and its Bureau are amenable to our conditional terms, the Alexandria Foundation has authorized me to extend our certifications to the students of the affected programs."  Torres' voice echoed across the stadium, its volume boosted by Maya’s abilities. A surprised look crossed the Chancellor’s face who was just as caught off guard by the interruption as the rest of the student body. Shock turned to anger as Jim looked to Miranda, who subtly shook her head while Torres continued to speak.

“As many of you are already aware, the Alexandria Foundation is here this year to audit Pacific Royal and to bring it up to our standards. We’re interested in acquiring this school and helping it move past that, what would you call it Mr. O’Neil? Little faux-pas with your previous Chancellor.” The corners of Torres’ mouth twitched upwards momentarily before she continued.

“The Foundation holds the students of Pacific Royal in very high regard and we want to ensure each of you is allowed to succeed this year. So far, we’ve been met with resistance from your administration, but we’re looking for your support. So please, tell your Team Advisor, your Faculty Representatives, anyone who will lend you an ear that you want a new path forward for P.R.C.U.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jim caught Miranda’s gaze.

Tact, Jim. Remember we want to remain diplomatic.

Miranda’s warning echoed inside of O’Neil’s head as he adjusted the microphone in front of himself.

“Continuous improvement, that’s exactly why we have allowed the Foundation here this year.” Jim interrupted, taking back his platform while raising his hands to clap. “Students, let's give a good ol’ Pacific Royal Welcome to Ms. Torres and her aid, Miss Almassian.”

The tension between O’Neil and Torres was plainly visible to everyone in the stadium, but Jim wasn’t one to back down.

"...And as our returning students know, today signals the start of the Homecoming Trials. For our incoming students, y’all will get the full Pacific Royal experience as you compete in your assigned teams for the weekend for the honour of being the Homecoming Royals. These trials will also determine your house placement, so be true to yourselves and give them your all."

There was little applause as Jim turned to accept a torch that was handed to him to signify the start of the semester. Behind him, the House Canis faculty member; Aiden Roth, suddenly ignited the flame with his heat vision. With the torch lit, the Chancellor turned towards the bronze Chimera, lighting a flame in each mouth of the statue. 

"Let the 2028 Homecoming Trials commence!" Jim shouted into the eerily quiet stadium "All incoming students! You are to return to the Intake House before proceeding to the Southern Plateau. New students should proceed in their assigned teams. Graduating class, you are to report to the Plateau immediately for further instruction. Once there, assemble your campsite and make your way to the construction site for assignment."

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Lord Wraith Actually Three Otters in a Trenchcoat

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Lord Wraith

Actually Three Otters in a Trenchcoat

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| Tuesday, September 5th, 2028
| 0500 hrs
Waves crashed against the sand as the lone figure ran up and down the beach. Steam rose off his bare back while sweat threatened to cause Lorcán’s earbuds to slide out of his ear canals. The faint din of a heavy bass track topped with squealing guitars and a mournful ballad could be faintly heard coming from the headphones. Glimpses of flames licking the night’s sky while a pair of cold blue eyes stared at him flickered faintly in his mind’s eye as Lorcán pushed himself for another sprint down the sandy terrain.

As the song finished, Lorcán paused for a breather, while looking out over the crashing waves. A proud member of the ‘Dawn Patrol’, he was out here every morning until the temperature dropped too low for even him to surf. Though the winter brought its own fun in the form of snowboarding, the island had little in the way of good hills. His parents had taken him to Whistler a couple of years back and while snowboarding and surfing weren’t a one-for-one translation, it had still been a lot of fun. 

Looking towards the sky, Lorcán watched the sun fight to peek over the horizon, crimson light casting an eerie glow across the Pacific while dark clouds moved in overhead. Gone was the summer sun of yesterday, replaced by the ominous storm front that threatened to downpour over the island at any second. But the storm wasn’t about to get him down, not after last night. The memory of Aurora asleep on his shoulder had been enough to keep Lorcán far too ecstatic for a restful sleep of his own. But something else had happened that sent shivers down his spine.

In the fire, someone’s abilities had intertwined with Lorcán’s own. A primal, destructive force that first fought against his manipulation of the heat. They tangled and fought for dominance, one unstoppable and all-consuming, the other immovable and uncontainable. Continuing to struggle against one another before eventually, the two indomitable energies found a way to coexist, mating together and breaking down the wood as the fire flared with a surge of raw power emitting a wave back over Lorcán that curled his toes.

The wind suddenly howled, interrupting the memory while whipping what loose sand there was into the air before carrying it off to sea, the tall grass dotting the outer edge of the beach flailed about in a dance of submission to the primordial force. Lorcán was immediately brought back to the present, spotting the enticing whitecaps that appeared on the tossing waves and elicited a smile on his face. Putting away his earbuds, Lorcán looked around before shrugging and stripping out his sweat-drenched physical training uniform. The morning breeze coming in over the ocean wicked away the beading sweat that hung over every inch of his body. 

It was always refreshing against his bare skin.

Not that Lorcán had any intention of ‘hanging eleven’, at least not so close to his last demerit for being caught surfing in the buff, but his physical training uniform did not afford him the freedom of a good pair of board shorts let alone being nude. Thus, despite enjoying the cool breeze, Lorcán opted not to start Canis in a deficit of House points this semester and after folding away his workout clothes, pulled his shorts from his bag. Stepping into the familiar pineapple-covered blue board shorts on, Lorcán stowed his phone and headphones into the saddlebag before grabbing his board from the holder hanging off the side of his motorcycle.

The motorcycle had been a sixteenth birthday gift from his Dad. A vintage scrambler that Lorcán had spent most of that summer fixing up and converting to a bobber. After countless hours of pleading with a tech over on the Alpha Base, he managed to secure the engine off of a wrecked Harpy to perform an engine swap making the vintage motorcycle capable of running off a battery or even his own abilities. Adding an electronic kick start and emulated muffler sound to keep the bike feeling ‘authentic’ and Lorcán was off to the races. He still hadn't yet convinced Aurora to join him for a ride.

Dropping the board in the water, Lorcán kept his eyes on the horizon while paddling out towards the epic swells. This was the time of day he most looked forward to. Offshore winds, deep groundswells; the surf was always best in the morning especially here on Dundas Island. Despite the dark skies, it was still in prime condition to catch some peeling green waves.

The surf was just what Lorcán needed to clear his head. The highlight of last night was of course Aurora falling asleep on his shoulder, but Lorcán couldn’t help but feel underwhelming compared to the other members of Blackjack. So many of them had such firm plans, Calli was going to start not only a family but a civil moment, Haven had her plans all laid out, while Gil had never been shy about his. Katja had multiple ambitions to pursue beyond the island.

Even Banjo of all people knew exactly what he was going to do after graduation.

But despite all the positivity, Lorcán couldn’t help but shake Amma’s words from his head. Those pale blue eyes, staring through the fire, it was as though of all them there, she had been speaking directly to him. Unlike Aurora’s there was no smile behind them, there was power with no hesitation. Lorcán had felt like a deer before a wolf.

The world outside of this perfect little bubble is cruel and it is dark and it is afraid,

Standing up on his board, Lorcán began to chase a wave, struggling to find his center and balance on his board. The board slid under his feet, prompting him to curl his toes around the edge, trying to relocate it underneath him. Amma’s voice continued to play in his head, taunting Lorcán with fears he’d been trying to bury. Fears that were first awakened by Hyperion so few years ago.

Afraid of you.

The wolf lunged, downing the deer. Lorcán found himself hesitating, the words reverberating over and over in his head. The air around him superheated suddenly, a crack of lightning illuminating the swell in a bright flash. He faltered, the distinct squeak of skin sliding on fiberglass cut through the din of the crashing waves as Lorcán went over, into the side of the swell. Gasping for air before hitting the surface.

And then the wave crashed over him.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: Mess Hall - Pacific Royal CampusWelcome Home #1.042: Trapped
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Interaction(s): @Melissa - Aurora Mitchell, @Roman - Gil Galahad, @webboysurf - Rory TylerPreviously: Shoot for the Stars

| 0800 hrs
Spotting the others already gathering outside of the Mess Hall, Lorcán ran forward silently before coming to a sudden stop between Gil and Rory. Swinging both of his arms back, hands fully extended and open palmed, a loud ‘SLAP’ interrupted the ongoing conversation as Lorcán made contact with his friends’ behinds. Gil in particular jumped, startled by the sudden hard slap to his rear only to turn to see a smug Lorcán cracking out an energy drink from his bag.

“Hopefully, you dudes don’t have to sit down too soon, but man, bros, you missed out on some legen-lactose heavy’-dary swells this mornin’.” Lorcán leaned toward Rory and Gil, his hair still wet from his morning surf and hastily groomed. The telltale tropical aroma of Lorcán’s board wax could be smelled coming from the slicked hair. His bangs however refused to be tamed as the wavy hair hung over his forehead.

“I am totally going to get you both out on a board before we graduate.” He stated while flashing a typical trademarked Lorcán smile. Realizing his shirt was hanging over his belt, Lorcán attempted to tuck it into the waistline of his fitted slacks. Struggling to get it right, he opted instead to loosen his belt, the buckle flying open and causing his pants to drop to his knees in front of the assembled team. A quick flash showed everyone in the nearby vicinity of the Mess Hall that Lorcán’s boxers were as red as his House dress shirt while he tucked it in and re-fastened his pants.

Several gasps could be heard when his pants fell.

“C’mon dudes, nothing you haven’t seen before,” Lorcán added before pulling his blazer on and promptly pushing the sleeves up to his elbows.

“Alright Blackjack, looks like everyone is accounted for. Any stragglers can catch up, you all know the drill by now.”

Tad interrupted any further conversation, pushing for the Team to make their way over to the stadium for the opening ceremonies. As far as the ceremony went, it was a fairly standard affair, nothing that Lorcán hadn’t seen seven times prior. The only twist was that this was the year they would get to partake in creating the trial for the freshmen. 

He sat on the edge of his seat, excited to be dismissed. Then Jim’s face fell and Lorcán’s outlook on the upcoming year suddenly changed.

“Given the current societal climate, circumstances beyond our control have conspired to invalidate our accreditations. To be straight with y’all, Pacific Royal has recently lost its accreditations for our degree programs in the engineering, law and medical fields. Students currently completing those will graduate with a degree not recognized for career certifications.”

Do you really think any of that is going to happen. Do you think they'll just simply let you go.

Amma’s words from last night echoed again in Lorcán’s head as Jim continued to speak. The sparks of anger started to ignite inside of his chest. He wanted to graduate, he wanted to leave the island and everything the raven-haired girl had said last night was coming true.

His hand curled into the seat beneath him, barely registering his own father, lighting the torch as he did every year. Lorcán couldn’t handle sitting in the stadium any longer. Everyone around him suddenly felt so close. He felt trapped. 

Why hadn’t his father warned him this was coming, the sting of what felt like betrayal turned Lorcán’s cheeks red. He felt a lump forming in his throat and knew he had to move.

“I think I need some air.” He muttered to Aurora while standing. Shuffling past the rest of the team, he hesitated before moving past Amma, his mouth opening, before deciding against it as he tripped into the aisle and ran out of the stadium.

His home had become a prison sentence.

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Hidden 7 mos ago → 7 mos ago Post by Skai

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Skai Bean Queen

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Skai

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| 0600 hrs // University Dorms
Haven was up with the sun. The first morning light trickling through her window to warm her wings where she laid. Her bed sat in the middle of the far wall, so that when she stretched her feathered limbs the tips just barely grazed the walls on each side. She'd gotten to bed early last night, having thrown on a baggy tee as soon as she made it back to the dorm and collapsed on the bed.

She dressed in a pair of her own workout shorts and tee now. Picking a lucky hairband of the day off of her dresser, she threw her hair up into a tight ponytail. She opted for a window exit today. As she opened the window as wide as it could go, she perched herself on the sill for an easy takeoff. The morning air felt amazing in her lungs, and she smiled at the awakening dorms in the square. This time of morning was always so peaceful. It offered Haven a chance to slip out before the usual cacophony of students filled her ears.

She looked skyward now, towards a brightening blue sky. Her legs tensed, the muscles building up momentum before she launched herself into the air. Her wings snapped open to catch herself just as she made it past the roof of the dorms. They began to pump, bringing her higher and higher until she could see the entire campus below her. Salty Pacific air blew against her to her right, already pulling a few baby hairs from her ponytail. It would be a mess by the time she made it back to the dorm.

Haven tilted her wings, her body dipping a few feet as she turned towards her usual morning flight path. She soon left the campus behind, swapping buildings for the forests of Dundas Island. Her legs stretched out behind her, and her arms out beside her. Her wings did most of the work, really, but the muscles in her arms and legs had to withstand holding themselves up. She could hit the gym all she wanted, but a true workout meant regular morning flights to keep her body trained for flight. Otherwise her limbs would hang limply below her, gravity pulling them towards the earth.

The outer cliffs on the North side of campus were soon in sight. While most students walked the trails, Haven used them as a natural guide to follow. She'd walked them a few times before with her teammates. The cliffs were beautiful from the trails, but they were gorgeous from her own point of view beside them. She could watch the water crash into the rock below, and watch as the sun shone through the trees on the top.

When she reached the edge of the cliffs, Haven tucked her arms in tightly to her sides. Her wings followed suit, allowing her to dive right over the side. A rush of adrenaline filled her veins as she hurtled towards the water below. She grinned at the feeling. The speed she reached in a dive was addicting. When she first heard of people cliff-diving, she thought they were nuts. Yet when she first let herself dive off of a cliff she understood why they did it.

She had no intention of reaching the water today, though. As the sound of the crashing waves became too loud, Haven stretched her arms and wings out beside her to catch the wind. It stopped her about twenty feet from the water. She quickly banked left, coasting on the sea breeze as she turned herself towards the beaches.

She found herself thinking of last night as the sandy shores came into view. Her teammates hopes after graduation. Rory's whisper in her ear, and the softness in his eyes. The sun wasn't the only thing warming her wings as she remembered their intimate moment by the bonfire. The only things to ruin her happiness sitting there were her own teammates.

First there was Mei's subtle show of jealousy. That ball of silk hadn't gone unnoticed. The only physical indication that Haven had seen it was shown in the way her wings flinched behind her. She didn't want to find out how well Mei's silk would stick to her feathers, or how painful it might be to remove. Haven noted the meaning behind it, however, and she'd turned her head to face the fire instead of Rory. Her eyes watched Mei knit her silk for some time, until the other teammate to ruin the quiet evening spoke up.

Amma had spoken everyone's worst fear out loud. Haven had frowned at her, her brows knitting together to show her displeasure. The worst part of it all was that Amma hadn't lied to them. The world was a cruel place, especially for those who couldn't hide their differences. She didn't know everyone's trauma fully, but she was sure that she had dealt with more prejudice than most of the group.

Yet she had survived in the cruel world Amma spoke of for years, and she had found happiness in it. There was a silver lining out there somewhere. Amma had no right to crush her teammates spirits like that. She would have argued with her, if it weren't for Gil's attempt to continue the group's conversation. His optimism brought the group back to life. She wasn't sure if he had saved Amma from her own wrath, or he had saved her from getting the brunt of Amma's negativity thrown her way.

The thought had Haven glaring at the beach beneath her, her hands curling into fists beside her. She wasn't scared to bear Amma's full focus. The girl had issues, sure, but she wasn't evil incarnate. If Amma wanted to drag everyone into her negativity, Haven would be the light that pulled them back out of it. She would make herself the team's silver lining.

Haven finished her morning flight with gusto now, and made it to the mail office ten minutes before her assigned community contribution time. She made the deliveries into training, usually. The short bursts of flight to get the packages and mail delivered were also great practice in quick landings and departures in small spaces. If not for a previous record set by a superspeed alumni, Haven would've been considered the fastest mail service student at PRCU. She finished in no time, considering it was the first day of the semester and the mail pile had been small. It left her with just enough time to head back to the dorms to shower and change.

 H A V E N
H A V E N

Location: Mess Hall to Chimera's Lair - PRCUWelcome Home #1.043: Ruffled Feathers
Interaction(s): rory @Webboysurf, Gil @Roman, Lorcán @Lord Wraith, Neighbor in Stadium Previously: Unexpected Turbulence

Haven tugged at the collar of her button-up as she left the dorms. The first day wearing the uniform, after a whole summer in tanks and tees, had never gotten any easier. She'd opted for the white dress shirt today. Her blazer bore the Strigidae house emblem and the Blackjack armband, a subtle display of her school spirit. They were only expected to be in uniform for the morning, so she chose to wear the black pleated skirt (with a pair of bike shorts underneath should she need to take flight) just because she had a chance to dress feminine. She even wore knee length black socks with her loafers to complete the look.

She grabbed breakfast in the mess hall before their meeting. A hearty meal, since lunch seemed so far away with the Homecoming Trial preparation on her mind. She invited any other Blackjack teammates to sit with her if she spotted them. Breakfast went quickly, and soon she was walking out of the mess hall to meet with the rest of the team.

The first person she noticed was Rory, standing next to Gil. What a sight he was, dressed in his uniform. She paused where she stood to admire it with a sly smile. Her attention hadn't even traveled south until Lorcán ran up behind the guys, planting a solid smack onto their cheeks. Haven's brows rose, playing the moment over in her head before she nodded in approval.

She moved over to join them, a smile on her face as if she hadn't seen the bromantical moment they'd shared. "Hey, boys." Lorcán's pants fell around his ankles, but Haven kept her eyes on their faces as if it hadn't happened. "Ready to build the freshie's course later?"

Tad's voice turned her attention to the front of the group. She began to follow as he lead them towards the stadium, glancing towards Rory so that she wouldn't bump into him as they walked. Not that she wouldn't mind it. "I always seem to forget how handsome you look in uniform." She murmured from beside him.

They reached the stadium before Haven could butter him up even more. Soon she was seated in her usual spot, unfortunately not next to the boy she'd just complimented. She sat on the edge of the row so she only had to mind her right wing beside her. With the whole student body gathered, it wasn't safe to sit a stool in the aisle to accommodate her.

O'Neil delivered a strong speech. Haven grinned as he made a joke meant for Banjo. The two newcomers on the stage caught her attention long before O'Neil introduced them. It was weird that the Foundation was here to survey the school, but Haven didn't think much of it. Instead, her heart dropped as she heard that several degrees were no longer valid. She turned her head towards her teammates that would be affected by this, her brows furrowing as she wondered if that included her own degree. To think that she'd studied so hard all these years to pass her classes just to leave empty handed. Or that she'd have to transfer to a different school and start all over again. Amma's words echoed in her head as she caught sight of the dark haired transfer and she frowned.

She'd just turned back to hear the rest of Jim's speech when the Foundation representative chose to interrupt the school's favorite faculty member. "What's with this bitch?" She murmured to her neighbor. 

“As many of you are already aware, the Alexandria Foundation is here this year to audit Pacific Royal and to bring it up to our standards. We’re interested in acquiring this school and helping it move past that, what would you call it Mr. O’Neil? Little faux-pas with your previous Chancellor.”

Haven's expression turned deadly. The muscles in her back tensed as a shiver crawled up her spine and to the tips of her wings. Her feathers ruffled involuntarily. Yet the bitch continued on, as if she hadn't mentioned a terrorist in front of a student body that still bore the scars of Hyperion's acts. O'Neil regained control of the speech soon after, giving Haven a moment to take a slow and intentional breath through her nose.

"I'll give her a really nice Pacific Royal Welcome after this." She muttered under her breath.

Lorcán was the first out of the stadium. She'd heard his excuse to Aurora, among the student's murmuring, before the shuffle of his feet. When O'Neil had finished speaking, Haven was the next one to go. Her feathers were still embarrassingly fluffed out of frustration. She was itching to give the woman a piece of her mind, and yet she knew there was nothing she could do. She could always find something else to do with her life, without a degree. She'd done it before, although not as legally as she should have. It was the fact that her friends careers hung on the rep's say-so that burned her. It meant Haven would have to play nice for their benefit, and she surely would. Hopefully her temper wouldn't muck it up for them, should the Foundation truly decide to take over the school she'd grown to love.

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Hidden 7 mos ago → 7 mos ago Post by Qia

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Qia A Little Weasel

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Qia

A Little Weasel

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One Week Before The Start Of The Semester

Harper leaned her back against the rough brick wall of the poorly lit alley, trying to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding so hard that she could feel it. The uncertain glow from her phone's screen cast an eerie light across her face, revealing the furrow in her brow and the tremor in her fingers. She was wearing a well-worn hoodie and comfortable sweatpants, but she felt out of place in the eerie atmosphere of the alley. Shouldn't she have been comforted by this feeling? When had she ever felt like she belonged somewhere, anyway? Before P.R.C.U., that is.

The message displayed on her phone's screen was stark against the darkness and seemed to carry a weight that threatened to pull her into the abyss. It read, "Meet me tonight. 9 pm. The Driftwood. Come alone!" The words had been etched into her mind by this point, a haunting refrain that she couldn't shake.

As Harper looked up at the flickering streetlamp above her, she couldn't help but feel like it was mirroring her inner turmoil. Its light danced across her features, emphasizing her uncertainty and fear. She wondered why she had been asked to come to The Driftwood after all this time. 

What did Sierra want? What was so important that she had insisted on Harper coming alone? 

As the brunette stood there, staring blankly at her phone, her mind drifted back to the last time she had seen her sister. It had been an argument that had spiralled out of control and had ended with harsh words and slammed doors. It had been months- no years- since they had truly spoken to one another, and the memory of that bitter fight weighed heavily on her heart.

Harper carefully slipped her phone into her pocket, taking a deep breath as she prepared to face what was waiting for her. As she entered the bar, the air was thick with the lingering scents of countless nights of revelry. The smell of stale beer mixed with the aroma of aged whiskey, creating a unique, unmistakable blend. The ghosts of patrons who had long since passed away seemed to linger in the air, adding to the heavy atmosphere of the place.

The dim lighting cast a sepia-toned filter over everything, as if time had mellowed within these walls. The bulbs above flickered restlessly, their filaments dancing like restless spirits. Harper's footsteps echoed softly against the creaking wood as she followed the path that led her across decades of stories. Each scuff, each groove held a secret - a whispered confession or a desperate plea. The floorboards bore the weight of countless souls, all seeking solace in the bottom of a glass. Their collective memories seeped into the grain, etching invisible lines of connection that were impossible to ignore.

Following her own invisible line of connection towards the back of the bar, Harper's eyes were drawn to Sierra's hair first. It was a vibrant red, a stark contrast to the familiar brunette that she was used to seeing. The colour screamed rebellion and defiance, leaving Harper to wonder at the reason behind the sudden change. Was it Sierra's attempt to distance herself from her? A bright red would definitely accomplish that if that was the case. Her black leather jacket over a fitted graphic tee, ripped jeans, and combat boots only further emphasized her new rebellious spirit. Harper couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness as she looked at her, knowing that things from now on would never be the same again.

Sierra lifted her sharp brown eyes from the drink before her. The dim light of The Driftwood cast shadows across her features, emphasizing the curve of her lips - a smirk that danced on the precipice of mockery. 

"Well, if it isn't my baby sister," Sierra drawled, her voice a blend of familiarity and tension. The years apart had etched lines on her face, but she remained the beauty the brunette had always thought she was.

Harper eased into the worn wooden chair opposite her, her spine straight, her gaze steady.

“It’s been a while,” Harper echoed, her words a bridge spanning the abyss. Sierra’s smirk widened, revealing a hint of teeth.

“What do you want?” Harper finally asked. The Driftwood seemed to hold its breath, its walls absorbing their history. Sierra leaned back, her eyes assessing, calculating.

“Closure,” the redhead replied, her gaze unyielding. “Answers.” Harper’s guard remained intact, but curiosity gnawed at her at this. 

“Answers for what?”

"Answers," Sierra repeated, enunciating each syllable as if the word held power all its own. "About that night. About what really happened to you." Her gaze bore into Harper's, daring her to break the silence.

Harper blinked, taken aback by Sierra's intensity. The night Sierra had discovered Harper's abilities was one neither of them could forget, though they'd both tried. It had been the catalyst for their estrangement, and the thought of revisiting it now sent a chill down Harper's spine.

"And what do you think you'll gain from dredging up the past, exactly?” she asked, her voice taut with suppressed emotion.

Sierra's expression hardened. "Closure," she said again, the word hanging in the air like a spectre. "And maybe, just maybe, a chance to move forward. To understand what happened to you... to us."

Harper leaned back in her chair, folding her arms, unable to hold back her glare. 
“I don’t know…I think I got a pretty good understanding of what happened.” 

Sierra matched Harper's glare, her voice dropping to a low, intense whisper. "Do you? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you've been running from it. From me. From everything we once were."

Sierra’s words seemed to strike a nerve, and Harper's gaze faltered momentarily before she regained her composure. "I didn't run,” she said firmly, though her voice wavered ever so slightly. "I just... it wasn’t safe for me anymore without the control that I have now. And besides I needed to find my own path. To figure out who I was without-“ 

"Without me?" Sierra interjected, her eyes blazing. “We were supposed to be in this together, Harper. We were supposed to have each other's backs, always! Especially since…”

Harper recoiled as if physically struck, her breath catching in her throat.

"Don't you dare bring them up,” she hissed. “You know we can't change what happened. And I can't... I can't deal with that right now. There’s too many things now to worry about.” 

Sierra's eyes narrowed. "You're not getting it. This isn't just about them, Harper. This is about us, about our family. And if we don't confront our demons, they'll keep haunting us, no matter how many 'things' you try to bury them under."

Harper's fists clenched as she fought to maintain control. "What do you want from me, Si? What do you want me to say?”

Sierra's voice softened. “I want the truth, Harps. I want us to face our past together, so we can finally move forward…. So we can be sisters again.”

Her gaze dropped to the table as she reached out, hesitantly resting her hand on Harper's. Harper tensed, feeling the weight of Sierra's touch like an anchor, keeping her tethered to a past she'd tried so hard to escape. Despite the urge to pull away, she remained still, willing herself to hear Sierra out.

“You’re in your last year, right?” Sierra continued, attempting a more casual conversation. "Time sure flies, huh? Have you decided what you want to do once you graduate?”

Harper’s guarded nod betrayed her wariness. The sudden shift in conversation felt like a gust of wind threatening to topple her carefully constructed walls. “Yeah,” she replied, her voice measured. “It’s been intense—exams, late nights, and some self-discovery, I suppose. But it’s helped me grow in ways I never thought possible.”

Sierra’s gaze softened in response. “You’ve come a long way,” she murmured. “From that little girl who used to hide in the closet during thunderstorms.”

Harper’s lips twitched. “I had a flashlight and a stack of comic books in there. It was practically my fortress.”

“And I was your knight,” Sierra teased. “Ready to slay imaginary dragons.”

The years apart—the chasm carved by grief and secrets—loomed between them. Sierra’s other hand rested on the table now, a bridge waiting to be crossed. “But you know,” she continued, her voice barely audible, “no matter how much you grow or how far you go, you’ll always be my baby sister, right?”

Harper’s gaze fell to that hand—the same hand that once wiped away tears, braided her hair, and held her secrets. Love and resentment swirled within her, a tempest threatening to spill over. “I know,” she whispered. “But sometimes… sometimes growing up means facing things you never thought you’d have to.”

Harper's heart skipped a beat as Sierra stayed silent, her gaze fixed on Harper's face. She looked at her sister, trying to read her expression, but Sierra's face was inscrutable. Harper fidgeted nervously, her patience wearing thin. She was about to ask Sierra what was wrong when she finally spoke up in a quivering voice. 

"Harper," Sierra began, "Mom and Dad…they didn’t die in an accident. Everything you think you know… isn’t always how it seems.”

Harper's breathing faltered as the words lingered in the heavy, humid Carolina air. She had reluctantly agreed to this meeting, hoping for closure, not revelations. 

So what the hell was this?
 
| 0750 hrs // University Dorms 

Things were so much easier back then. 

Harper ran her fingers over the edges of the photograph, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over her. The picture showed her and her sister when they were young and carefree, captured in one of her fondest childhood memories. They were around 5 and 9 years old and it was taken in Harper's bedroom closet, which had been her secret hiding place. She remembered the joy of that moment, giggling with Sierra as they made the best of the stormy night. It was around this time that she had been introduced to graphic novels, and the picture reminded her of a time when everything felt perfect. She cherished it dearly.

With a sense of longing and nostalgia, Harper let out a deep sigh and slowly closed the photo album that she had been flipping through for what seemed like hours. The memories captured in those faded, yellowed pages had transported her back to a time when life was simpler, happier, and full of promise. But now, as she gazed at the blank walls of her dorm room, she knew she had to face reality and get ready to leave for her first day. 

As Harper pushed herself out of bed, she couldn't help but think about the events of the previous day. Her mind was still muddled by the strange turn of events that had left her feeling off-balance and unsure of herself. She couldn't shake off the feeling that something was amiss, but couldn't quite put her finger on it. 

The brunette glanced at the clock on her nightstand, surprised to see that it was much later than she had anticipated. She had never been one to be tardy, but yesterday's events had thrown her routine completely off balance it seemed. It was as if the world had shifted just a little bit and she was struggling to find her footing again. 

Upon glancing at her reflection in the mirror, Harper quickly checked her appearance. She’d already put her hair in its usual low ponytail. Her white dress shirt looked crisp and neatly tucked into her black slacks. The black blazer she wore was also immaculate, but as her eyes shifted towards the P.R.C.U. emblem on the blazer's pocket, a frown crept onto her face. Despite her impeccable appearance, the emblem served as a reminder of her allegiance to the organization that she was currently having mixed feelings about.

Harper couldn't shake off the impact of Amma's statement, which had struck a chord with her. She couldn't help but admit that there was a certain truth to the idea that this place was, in some sense, both a prison and a refuge for individuals like Amma and herself. Despite Gil's attempts to retain some of the joy that Amma had managed to puncture out of their ballooning dreams, it was too late. Everyone else's expressions had already betrayed their disappointment. 

For Harper, the realization that she agreed with her oddball teammate was a bit… unsettling. She couldn't help but feel a sense of self-loathing for agreeing with her - even if it was just a tiny bit.
 
Harper gently pinched her cheeks with her fingertips to snap herself out of the distracted state. She noticed that her usually rosy fair skin lacked its natural glow. To fix this, she pinched her cheeks a little harder, creating a natural flush that complemented her features, especially her freckles. After admiring her handy work, she put on comfortable black flats and left the dorm. 

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: Mess Hall - Pacific Royal CampusWelcome Home #1.044: Maybe She Likes Her Illusions
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Interaction(s): Haven- @SkaiPreviously: Dreams

Once Harper finally arrived at the Mess Hall, she’d managed to join the tail end of the line of the Blackjack members already there, breathing a sigh of relief—her heart going back to its regular pace from the run she’d had to do to get here right on time. She sidled past a few of them, trying desperately to catch up to her second favourite—tied with Katja (and don’t ever ask her to choose between the two)—girly of the team: Haven.  

Once she did, Harper hooked her arm in Haven’s with a smile and a whispered “Hello. Missed you this morning!” before sitting beside her winged friend. 

When a loud voice boomed through the speakers, Harper's attention was immediately drawn to the stage. As she fixed her gaze on the platform, she observed the Canadian anthem being played with great interest, although she still couldn't sing along to all of it. As the anthem ended, a colourful parade of flags followed, adding to the patriotic atmosphere of the event. "How noble of you, P.R.C.U.," she thought, before taking her seat along with everyone else.

As the ceremony progressed in its usual fashion, Harper's attention was mostly focused on the speaker's words. However, her ears pricked up when the Chancellor made a significant announcement - the school's new guests for the year were none other than The Foundation. 

The brunette couldn’t help but search for Amma among the members at their mention, but she couldn’t spot her from where she was. She wondered what her reaction would be…to seeing some of her old friends. 

“Given the current societal climate, circumstances beyond our control have conspired to invalidate our accreditations. To be straight with y’all, Pacific Royal has recently lost its accreditations for our degree programs in the engineering, law and medical fields. Students currently completing those will graduate with a degree not recognized for career certifications.”

Harper's heart sank as the weight of the announcement hit her. She could feel her stomach already starting to knot with anxiety and disappointment.

“WHAT?” she said loudly, though her voice was drowned out by the cacophony of shocked murmurs and protests from the gathered students.

Harper was deeply shaken by the news that had just been announced. "How could this happen?" she thought to herself, still struggling to process the implications of what she had heard. It was clear from the expressions on her peers' faces that they were all in the same boat. Shock and concern were etched on their faces as they tried to come to terms with the news.

As she looked around, Harper couldn't help but feel a sense of despair. All the hard work and dedication that they had put into their studies might be in vain. The prospect of not being able to achieve their career dreams was devastating.

Harper tried to gather her thoughts and regain her composure. She knew that she had to think quickly and consider alternatives if she wanted to salvage her academic career. She had planned to enroll in a radiology program, but the loss of accreditation could mean the end of her ambitions. Unless…

"What's with this bitch?" Harper heard her friend say beside her. 

“Yea…” was all she could manage to say in response, however. After all, none of the Foundation member’s futures seemed to be in trouble. 

As the Foundation's representative continued to speak, Harper couldn't help but feel a sense of unease wash over her. It was as if the words being spoken were causing a chill to run down her spine. And then, out of nowhere, she felt a soft fluttering on her arms. It took her a moment to realize that it was the wings on her friend’s back causing it - a physical manifestation of the same anxiety and fear that Harper felt within her. 

The brunette placed a comforting hand on her friend’s arm, forcing a smile on her face. 
“I understand your frustration,” she said softly, choosing her words carefully. “But maybe...that's not the best idea.” 

And Harper couldn't help but feel a twinge of self-loathing after the words she spoke. Honest and practical she was, as always. 

Harper watched intently as Lorcán stormed out of the stadium, followed closely by Haven, whose feathers were still ruffled with frustration. Despite Haven's fiery spirit, Harper knew that it was important for them to remain level-headed amidst the chaos. Lorcán's sudden exit seemed impulsive and Harper couldn't help but wonder if he was planning his next move in response to the news they had just received.

Taking a brief pause, Harper's gaze drifted towards Aurora, her close friend, and she couldn't help but think about how difficult it must be for her to process the uncertainty of her future. With a heavy sigh, she got up from her seat and began to move towards Haven, calling out to her to wait up.

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PatientBean Hi, I'm Barbie. What's up?

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PatientBean

Hi, I'm Barbie. What's up?

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Santa Fe, New Mexico

Garcia sat upon his mahogany leather chair in his office facing away from the door, almost as if it had affronted him and he couldn't stan looking at it anymore. He held a glass of scotch, a gift from a donor and only to be drunk when Garcia needed to relax, as he stared out the window. What had his life become? Growing up, his family always had a strong work ethic. His father toiled as a construction worker and his mother a nurse. Both were demanding jobs and, yet, he never heard a complaint. He also knew it was expected of him to maintain his household. His father had sat him down when he was only 8 years old and told him that a man ran his family. Secured it. Strengthed it. Made sure his house was in order. Often by any means necessary.

Garcia never saw the bruises until his mother was buried, God rest her soul.

And now he was sitting in his home that he built, his wife out doing who knows what or who and he hasn't seen or spoken to his daughters in years.

And yes, he said daughters. He didn't get to where he is following some woke liberal bullshit.

Garcia closed his eyes as his mind wandered through his family. His wife was a lost cause. She had checked out years prior, but she at least maintained the image. After all, it suited her well. She got expensive clothes, taken on expensive trips, ate at exclusive restaurants and attended exclusive parties. She was set up.

His oldest, Lilliana, because he damn well refused to call her whatever she decided to call herself this month, was also lost. Off gallivanting with that wife of hers and flat out refusing to let him see his grandchild. She was gone.

That left one.

Calliope.

Garcia slammed the glass on the desk, shattering it into pieces and leaving some small cuts as scotch and blood mixed. 

He truly saw potential in her. She didn't talk back. She did as she was told. Good grades, perfect attendance, she did everything he had expected of her. And yet, she still disappointed him. The moment she displayed who she was, she was a failure. A freak. Everyone began talking about it and, by extension, him. All she had to do was hide it and she couldn't even get that right.

And now she was at that school in Canada doing who knew what. It wasn't like she called him with periodic updates. And his own attempts at finding out had been thwarted. Whoever ran the school over there was good. Perhaps another father would be relieved to know his child was at a school that protected them so heavily.

Not him. He needed to know what was going on with her. The more unknown, the less control he had. And Garcia needed control.

He stood up and cleaned up his mess, wrapping a bandage on his hand. The maid will take care of the rest. He walked over to his safe, hidden behind the painted family picture. And picked up the card he was given about five years ago. There wasn't much on it except a name along with a whispered promise to get him the control he craved so much.

Hyperion.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: Chimera's Lair - Pacific Royal CampusWelcome Home #1.45: Fractured
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Interaction(s): Banjo (@Hound55), Haven (@Skai), Harper (@Qia) Previously: These Perfect Moments

Calliope got ready as her roommate maneuvered around their shared space, talking on her phone. Calliope let it go in one ear and out the other. The school assembly in preparation for the Homecoming trials wasn't what she would call her favorite activity, but at least she would be amongst her friends. Once she was satisfied, she grabbed her stuff and headed out. Hopefully her roommate followed suit. It would not serve her well.

Calliope didn't opt to go eat at the Mess Hall. She hadn't been feeling hungry for a bit now. Instead, she waited and met everyone outside with Tad. She sidled up to Banjo, linking her arm through his as they made their way to the Chimera's Lair.

School spirit was never a thing she had. She had always been forced into things to better herself or make her family look good, so she never cared about doing it because she liked her school. She didn't dislike PRCU, but she wasn't about the whole House points. She didn't actively seek to lose them points, but if she didn't contribute as much as maybe others wanted, that was just too damn bad. House Ursus never won anyway, it seemed.

At the stadium they took their seats. Calliope leaned against Banjo as the assembly was called to attention. She rose along with the others, but this, too, elicited an eye roll. She never understood pride for a country, but then again she wasn't Canadian. America had very little to be proud about.

After an introduction and talking about sports the mood seemed to visibly shift. Almost as if a wave of emotion hit the speaker. She leaned forward a bit in attention.

“Given the current societal climate, circumstances beyond our control have conspired to invalidate our accreditations. To be straight with y’all, Pacific Royal has recently lost its accreditations for our degree programs in the engineering, law and medical fields. Students currently completing those will graduate with a degree not recognized for career certifications.”

Calliope sucked in her breath. What did he say? The school would essentially be sending them out with a piece of paper that meant fuck all? And then had the nerve to say they would work to make sure they could be transferred to a new school so they could get a degree? Oh and how kind of them to foot the bill.

She couldn't do it anywhere else. There was no way.

"Yeah, what school would accept a freak like you?" Calliope shut her eyes. Her inner voice seemed to be screaming despite talking in a whisper.

"Think about it, your dad didn't want you, your home didn't want you, and now this school doesn't even want you." Calliope tried to calm the voice but it didn't seem to be working. She felt herself shake. Her hands clenched, but she felt resistance. A pushback.

Banjo. He had squeezed her hand. A simple communication meant that he knew what was happening. That centered her. It always did. She looked up, tears begging to be unleashed from their prison, but she held firm. She nodded. 

The speeches continued anyway despite her wanting to run out of the stands. A woman took to the mic from the Alexandria Foundation. She appeared controlled. She spoke in a way that made Calliope think every word was deliberate. “As many of you are already aware, the Alexandria Foundation is here this year to audit Pacific Royal and to bring it up to our standards. We’re interested in acquiring this school and helping it move past that, what would you call it Mr. O’Neil? Little faux-pas with your previous Chancellor.”

That struck a nerve. Who the help was this woman? As if on queue, Haven spoke up to voice her same question.

Calliope almost laughed after Haven threatened her, but Calliope wasn't in the mood. "Whoever she is, I hate her. If she thinks I'm doing anything to make her life easier here, she has another thing coming."

Ice ran through her words. She felt it surge. She stood up, "I need to use the restroom, I'll be right back." She told to Banjo and the others. She quickly scooted out, ready to get out of there.

She made her way into the restroom and checked to see if anyone else was there. Once she was sure she was alone, she turned to face the mirror. She gripped the counter and stared at herself.

All of the work she put in. Wasted. The friends she made. Stripped away. Her future plans essentially shot. She closed her eyes. She felt the world shift. It was a lot. She had been angry before, but she held it in. Sad? Stomped out. You didn't get to feel things. What was tat ironic Disney movie? Frozen. Conceal don't feel.

But once it started, it didn't stop. She felt it in her blood. The surge, the energy crackling. Soon, it unleashed.

The sink next to her made a guttural sound as ice shot out from it, cracking the faucet and counter in a kaleidoscope of crystal. Calliope fell back. She looked in horror and mild awe. It was back home all over again. Part of her felt bad, but also damn this school.

She collected herself and ran out, hoping no one would be going in there for a bit, though it wasn't like she could hide she did it. She made her way back into the stadium and met with Banjo, sitting down with force. "I'm fine," she said with some attitude. A simple warning. Don't poke the polar bear. Not yet.

God what was she going to do?

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Hidden 7 mos ago Post by Melissa

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Melissa Melly Bean the Jelly Bean

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Melly Bean the Jelly Bean

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The Previous Evening
As Aurora became aware of her surroundings, the first thing she noticed was how warm she was. It was a comforting kind of heat, almost as if someone had wrapped her in a blanket on a cold day. Her ears began to recognize the noises around her, not specific words, just chatter, along with the crash of the waves and the crackle of the remaining embers of a fire. 

“Rora,”

A familiar voice broke through the haze and a firm but gentle hand rocked her awake. “Rora, hey, sleepy-head, everyone is turning in for the night. Can I walk you to your dorm, lady dude?”

The redhead’s eyes opened slowly, warily. It took her a minute to adjust, but after a moment she remembered where she was; they were around the campfire on the beach. The last thing that came to mind about the evening was hearing everyone’s plans post-grad, and given that the pile of driftwood in the center was now mainly ashes, some time had passed since then. 

Not only had she fallen asleep, but she quickly realized that she had dozed off on Lorcán, who was the one waking her up, her head resting on his shoulder and her body tucked underneath his arm comfortably. No wonder she had been so warm. Aurora sat up in a groggy daze, “Oh god, I’m so sorry,” she started, moving the strands of copper hair that had fallen in her face behind her ear, “I didn’t mean to. I was so tired from not sleeping well last night…I don’t even know how that happened though.” She tried to piece together how she had so carelessly let herself pass out, “I didn’t miss anything important, did I?”

“Don’t even sweat it,” Lorcán beamed, smiling as he helped her to her feet. “Just the usual conversations between the brahs and the bros. Amma even chirped up.” He added, hesitating slightly before continuing.

“Less positive stuff though, totally killed the vibe before my best bro gave it some sloppy mouth to mouth. She was just going on about how the world fears us and something about being trapped on the island. It really did harsh my mellow for a minute though.” Lorcán shook his head, underplaying just how much Amma's words had gotten to him.

“It was all chill, I’m sure by tomorrow it’ll be just a memory.” He added as the pair began to walk away from the beach. Aurora nodded lazily, still waking up from her slumber. She wiped her eyes and looked up at Lorcán.

“Yeah… just a memory.” 

The walk was mostly quiet, Aurora still half asleep, but it was a comfortable silence, as it always was between the two. Upon returning to her dorm, the redhead quickly fell back asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. She hadn’t even bothered to change out of her sweatshirt which still smelled like the smoky campfire, subtly reminiscent of something else. Someone else. 

It was the best sleep she had gotten in weeks.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 | Tuesday, September 5th, 2028
 | 0600 Hours 
Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot.

The first light of sunrise kissed the horizon and Aurora was already on the move. Her breath formed tiny clouds in the chill of the air as her legs beat a steady rhythm on the ground. The redhead liked running; it was a solitary sport and the only person she was up against was herself. As much as she hated the early wakeups during the school year, she preferred to go when the Island was still and quiet before the hustle and bustle of the day began. Her route varied depending on her mood, but the nature trails north of campus along the coastal cliffs were her favorite, which is where she found herself this morning. 

It was humid with dense clouds rolling in overhead, indicating a storm was brewing. Luckily for her, if it started to downpour, she could be back at her dorm in no time at all. But nevertheless, she picked up speed, winding with the natural pathway carved through the trees. The wind was to her back, pushing her along, and upbeat music played through her headphones to help maintain her pace. Sweat gathered at her brow and as she approached the furthest point of the trail, her mind danced through a myriad of thoughts, unraveling her emotions like tangled threads. Each heavy exhale allowed her to release the tension she felt, and each deep inhale brought her more peace. 

As she reached the crest of the hill and the lookout over the cliffs, she took off her headphones and let the crash of the surf and the whistle of the breeze become her soundtrack. On a clear day, you could normally see the vague outline of the mainland, but fog engulfed the sightlines and the sea stretched out into nothingness. 

In that moment, Aurora pretended that the real world didn’t exist at all. 

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: Myotis Dorm ➜ Mess Hall ➜ Chimera’s Lair - Pacific Royal CampusWelcome Home #1.046: Calm Before the Storm
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Interaction(s):  Lorcán @Lord Wraith, Harper @Qia, Haven @Skai, Calliope @PatientBean Previously: Dreaming

Aurora did an efficient turnaround upon returning from her run; a shower, followed by a quick breakfast with her roommates in their shared kitchen, before changing into her outfit for the day. She was looking forward to wearing her uniform for the first time this school year, but inevitably the novelty would fade a few weeks into the semester like it always did. Today she chose to represent her house, pairing the muted purple blouse with the matching tartan skirt and nude tights. She was fortunate that Myotis’ color suited her copper hair and fair skin. Had she been in Strigidae or Canis she would definitely have felt otherwise. 

Looking at the time, she did a final check of herself in the mirror, fussing with her natural waves and slipping on her loafers, before heading out the door and making her way to the Community Farm to complete her contribution before the ceremony. Aurora’s task today was simple, watering the plot of perennial flowers that were to be used for the senior dance, but as she did so all she could think about was yesterday’s fiasco. Hopefully the dust had settled and everyone had gotten over the awkwardness, but that was possibly wishful thinking. 

Before she knew it, the redhead was done with her responsibilities and approaching the Mess Hall, easily spotting her teammates who were gathered around their faculty advisor, Tad. She gave him a wave before joining the group, arriving just in time to catch a glimpse of Lorcán’s bright red boxers. She quickly turned her head and averted her gaze, half to give him some privacy, half to hide the blush that immediately appeared on her face. Fortunately, the group began walking towards the Stadium, which gave her the chance to return back to her normal color without anyone noticing. Once they entered Chimera’s Lair, she fell into step beside the brown haired boy and took her usual seat next to him. 

As the ceremony began, Aurora stood and hummed along with the national anthem. Although it technically wasn’t her own, she liked to join in to some extent as she had been living in Canada nearly as long as she had been in the states. She felt she owed the country something, at the very least her respect, for providing her safe asylum all these years. The redhead paid attention as Jim - well, now Chancellor O’Neill - approached the microphone and started to speak. 

“It was here on this island that I found not only a family, but also a home. This island, this school and its campus, it is my hope that each of you find it just as welcoming now as I did then. I hope that you look at the people beside you, the people you share a dorm with and you see not only friends, but people who you can rely on and trust indiscriminately.”

Family. Home.

The words struck a chord. It was silly how such small words affected her, how they made her feel. The concept of a family and a home had always remained a complex and unresolved issue for Aurora. She was often torn between the yearning for roots and the fear of being uprooted once more. The familiarity of Dundas Island and the friendships she cultivated on campus provided a semblance of belonging, yet a lingering unease persisted within her. The very notion of family and home seemed elusive, a distant dream slipping through her fingers, and more often than not she questioned what those words truly meant. If she’d ever find meaning in them. 

“Given the current societal climate, circumstances beyond our control have conspired to invalidate our accreditations. To be straight with y’all, Pacific Royal has recently lost its accreditations for our degree programs in the engineering, law and medical fields. Students currently completing those will graduate with a degree not recognized for career certifications.”

“WHAT?”

Even though Harper was the only one to blurt something out, she heard Calliope suck in a breath, no doubt the blonde’s legal dreams flashing before her eyes, and saw Haven’s brow furrow, the winged girl trying to figure out how this affected her. In fact, all around them students were reacting to the news in different ways. 

Of course it was disheartening. The degree Aurora had worked so hard towards over the past 4 years - all the late nights in the library, the endless juggling of responsibilities, the stressful days of back to back classes - would be for nothing. But, at the same time, she didn’t have as much to lose as the others. Her future plans were still up in the air; she wasn’t even sure if she’d ever leave the Islands, ever even want to. So, as disappointing as this was to the redhead, she could, and would, manage. A small part of her even sighed in relief knowing she had more time to figure this whole thing out. But for her friends, her teammates, it was another story.

Aurora could see Lorcán’s demeanor shift out of the corner of her eye- the way his grip tightened around the base of his seat and the redness that appeared on his face. She had only seen him angry a few times since she’d known him, so for him to be reacting this way was not taken lightly. 

“As many of you are already aware, the Alexandria Foundation is here this year to audit Pacific Royal and to bring it up to our standards. We’re interested in acquiring this school and helping it move past that, what would you call it Mr. O’Neil? Little faux-pas with your previous Chancellor.”

Aurora gasped, her hand moving to cover her mouth, the hairs standing up on her neck. For that woman to boil the unthinkable and unspeakable time in Pacific Royal’s history down to, as she called it, a ‘faux-pas’, shook the redhead to her core. She remembered every detail of that fateful day on the Plateau, as did everyone who was on campus then. The damage and the fallout would be etched into her memory and heart forever. 

"I'll give her a really nice Pacific Royal Welcome after this."

"Whoever she is, I hate her. If she thinks I'm doing anything to make her life easier here, she has another thing coming."

As the ceremony came to a close, the entire stadium shocked into an uncomfortable silence, the redhead turned to Lorcán, knowing how deep the situation cut for him and his family. However, she found herself looking up at him as he shot up out of his seat not even before Jim had dismissed them.

“I think I need some air.”

Aurora couldn’t react quickly enough to stop him. “Lorcán, wait,” She called after him, but it was lost in the mix of the shocked chatter and chaos around them. She looked around at her teammates as things concluded, taking in everyone’s ranging emotions all at once. Some sat there stoic or confused while others were just as upset as Lorcán was. Her eyes fell to Tad, who was also trying to assess the situation, and as they made eye contact, he inclined his head towards the exit where Lorcán had just fled. She nodded, understanding without a word needing to be spoken, “I’ll go after him. We’ll meet you at the Plateau.”

The redhead focused her mind and visualized where she wanted to go, and in an instant, she was gone.

Teleporting didn’t feel like much. Sometimes she could make out the vague sensation of her body being pulled elsewhere, but most of the time it was more of a weightlessness. Like the way your stomach feels at the top of a roller coaster before gravity kicks in. As soon as her feet felt the cushion of the grass outside of the stadium, her eyes darted around frantically, looking for Lorcán. It didn’t take long for her to find him, pacing and moving his hands as if he was playing his bass, tapping his right thumb against his belt and his left hand working an invisible fretboard. Aurora sighed, relieved, and closed the distance between them. 

“Lorcán,”

It was pointless to ask if he was okay; it was evident that he was not. Visually, his shoulders were taut and tense, and as she searched his eyes, she noticed they were darker than usual. Even the air around him was higher in temperature. She gently tried to place a hand on his arm, not wanting to set him off, but quickly recoiled after feeling how hot his skin was to the touch. 

“Hey, hey, breathe, talk to me.”

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Hidden 7 mos ago → 7 mos ago Post by Hound55

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Hound55 Create-A-Hero RPG GM, Blue Bringer of BWAHAHA!

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Banjo was hunched over the fire.  Everyone was starting to pack up and gather their things.  It had been a good day and a mixed night.

He looked over at Calliope and Amma, as the former packed her stuff away, whilst the latter seemed a million miles away.

A very mixed night.

Calli had looked at him straight in the eye, and then breaking eye contact told the entire group she had it on her mind to start a family.

Sure, it was a “one day” off in the abstract distant future, but if he wasn’t mistaken it seemed very much like she was throwing down the gauntlet.  He’d never had such a firm suggestion of long LOOOONG term commitment.  They’d made their plans and he’d tiptoed around asking her views on marriage in private company before.  But this seemed very much like she wanted him to know that she was expecting all of this and more.

It was the best news he’d had in a long time.

…but also terrifying.

The thought of HIM having kids, from what little he’d been told of his background.  His genes, his history, a bunch of people learning their formative traits and lessons from him, with HIM as their primary male role model..?

Seemed like a Hell of an opportunity for karmic backlash, if nothing else.

And then Amma had brought back a lot of nagging concerns as well.  He’d known what it was like to live life on the run.  More than anyone here, in fact.  He’d done it for the better part of two decades.  It wasn’t something he was really ever bothered by if it happened again, because he knew he could do it.  It was part of the reason for his future plans being as simplistic as they were, and so easily transferable.

The same reason why even five years after coming here he still lived out of his foot locker, and his wardrobe contained little more than the ‘trophies’ of numerous Canis school uniforms of Rory Tyler that he’d accumulated via numerous pranks and japes over the years.

Five years on and he was still ready to ‘up sticks in five to ten’.

He relived the moment:

"Do you really think any of that is going to happen. Do you think they'll just simply let you go. Once we graduate, what happens then. The Institute is breathing down our necks now." The fire sparks in answer at the mention of her former association, the hiss of drift wood punctuated by the sliver of crimson power reaping through the flame. Beneath her, the sand trembles, the grains shifting at her beck and call as her smile lances through her features akin to a vicious slash.

She finds molten eyes through the haze of the night and says:
	"The world outside of this perfect little bubble is cruel and it is dark and it is afraid. Afraid of you. Afraid of me. Outside that shield of fog," Amma gestures abroad, lines of silver coiling betwixt her fingers, lighting the depth of her eyes to an eerie glow. In those chasms of blue lies a void; a never ending sky that collides with something. Someone.

	"They lie in wait to take everything you hold dear. And they will. They always do." Amma's nails lance against the name inked into her neck. "And I welcome them to try. I will take everything from them. Just as they took everything from me."

	"But no matter what, this world will never accept you. They won't forget. They haven't forgotten. I doubt they will ever forgive." 

The heavy silence she left in her wake.  The unease of the group.  The desperate need to fill it.

What was it he’d said again?

“Well, shit…  Here’s to me bein’ on their list only AFTER they try it on you, then.”  And he’d raised a beer bottle to her.

It got a small chuckle from a few, but her message had clearly stung the group, some worse than others.

He looked into the fire.  Its warmth.  Its energy.

Another peek back at what he’d gained in this place.  She was still packing things, cleansing sand from towels.

It wasn’t a thought he’d had very often, because he seldom reflected so deeply on his past, but he began to wonder if he still could do it anymore.  For the first time, he felt he wouldn’t.

Even if his world was collapsing around him.  Even if his world was falling into the darkness of the abyss.

He couldn’t see himself running anymore.  Not with what he had now.

He focused and rode the surge as his back seized, and his arm turned black.

He plunged it into the waning flames and embers and drank deep.  The fire died.

Then cursed himself as he felt sobriety take hold once more.

He’d found it easier to sleep after he’d had a few.  The dreams stayed away, the size of the bed a distant concern.  Stupid.

He walked over to the cooler and grabbed the last few bottles of beer.

“Just made ya esky lighter, Tyler.  Never say I don’t do anything for ya.”  He called out.  “Ya done, hun?”  He asked Calliope.

The Houses of Ursus and Strigidae shared a building, so they were going in the same direction.

There was no running.  They walked together, the whole way.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: The Farm/The Beach/The Chimera's Lair/Banjo's Dorm - Pacific Royal CampusWelcome Home #1.047: Solid Rock
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Interaction(s): Rory - @webboysurf, Calliope - @PatientBean, Amma - @Rockette, Haven - @Skai, Tad - NPCPreviously: Plans Over A Brew or Two

Banjo woke up and poured himself into a pair of shorts to make the brief trek to the coffee machine.

The grinding of beans inspired his roommate Alex Zimmerman to have the same idea.

“Morning!”  He greeted him enthusiastically.  He always started mornings at about an ‘8’.  Until Banjo had a second cup, he was firmly stuck on ‘2’.  Something today had pushed Zimmerman way up to a ‘13’ though.

“Have you heard!  There’s a touring group from the Alexandria Foundation here!”

Banjo hadn’t made the connection as to why he, or anyone, should give a shit about this, until he remembered.

“Sure, it’s not Hyperman or Miragal, but I’m gonna see if I can—”

Banjo turned around and made a calming gesture with his open palm, which proved effective when combined with the ‘barely functioning’ expression he carried upon his face.

“Oh, sorry..!”

Banjo carried his cup to his room at a trudge and closed the door.

Ten minutes later, he re-emerged in an approximation of what the school expected from him in terms of school uniform, stuffing his dress peak cap in his blazer’s interior pocket, and stepping to the machine to make the stabilising second cup of the day.

“Sorry man, for earlier, I’m just excited!  Gonna see if I can get some merch from the Force!”

Big Steve greeted him far more gently, as he emerged from his room and waited in line.

"Dude!  They're ACTUAL GENUINE SUPERHEROES!"  He called out, almost in disbelief from having to explain himself.

Banjo topped his takeaway cup with chocolate, before directing him to Zimmerman.

“I leave him in your capable hands.  Try not to break him any more than he already is.”

Big Steve’s face creased a smirk.

“Do you want us to pick you up any--?”“I don’t c—”“You don’t care.”  They sang a tune they’d both heard many times before.

Banjo made his way down the back way, behind the A.R.C, to the Community Farm.  He’d heard Aurora had picked up her own assignment there working the flowers in and out of the greenhouse there, if he could hold off the news of where he was for now, he’d like to continue to do so.

He got there to the same assembled group of freshmen as last time.

“Same as last time, cows need milkin’, chickens need feedin’, if you don’t want to do it I don’t care, I don’t need the lot of ya anyway.”

One of the kids raised his hand, and Banjo sighed deeply.  Why did he even say anything?

“Yes, Lonely Hearts?”

“Umm—are we—wait—are you going to call me 'Lonely Hearts' every time?”

“Yes, Lonely Hearts.”  He replied flatly.

He turned to the rest.  “Anyone else?”

“No, wait, that wasn’t my question.”

“Then why are you wasting my time with things that aren’t your question, Lonely Hearts?  Why don’t you take a page out of Next-to-Blondie’s book?  She’s not botherin’ no-one.”

“We’ve got Homecoming Trials today.”

“Not a question, Lonely Hearts.”

Banjo started walking to the milking sheds, the group followed him.  He sighed again.

“I was just wondering… Could you tell us anything about them?”

“Ask a teacher.  I’m not—”

“You’renot ateacher.”  Blondie, Next-to-Blondie and Hugh all said in unison.

“There.  See.  They catch on.  Why can’t you?”

“Well, it’s just… None of them have really told us much of anything, like it’s some big secret.  And you’re the only senior I know.”

“I’m the only senior you know?”  He stopped walking and turned to look at the freshmen.

“Well, yeah…”

Banjo laughed at him.  “Well, you poor bastard…”  He went right on back to walking to the milking sheds.

“Alright… hopefully you’ve got some sense of how to milk cows now.  Keep in pairs so at least one of you might have the sense to tell the other when you do something braindead.  Two on cows, two on chickens.  When you’re done with the chickens, help on cows.  Wait… are you all sticking around, or are some of you chuffing off?”

“We’re all here, Miste—”  ‘Hugh’ said.

“No.”  Banjo cut him off firmly, with a side-eyed glance, a scowl knitted across his brows, and pointing at him.

“I’m not a—”

“You’renotateacher.”

“Too bloody right.”

The freshmen paired off whilst Banjo made his way to the barn.  He’d baled feed specifically for today, he was going to be time-short, and wouldn’t be returning to the barn due to the Homecoming trials, so none of the livestock could be released to the outer paddocks for a feed.

Checking nobody was around, he rode the feeling of juicing up once more, and stacked six bales on top of each other, and carried them in his arms with a pitchfork resting atop.  His view obscured by the comedically large stack, he walked sideways out of the barn and made his way to the sheep.

He put the bales down and threw two over the fence.  Jumping the fence with one hand on the post, before breaking up the bales with the pitchfork.  He checked the water levels, before jumping back and carrying the remaining bales to the other interior paddocks, feeding the remaining stock in much the same way.

He detoured back via the stables, where he fed and scooped after the horses, leaving one hills pony for last.

“G’day.  Gonna be a short day today.”  He said, pulling sugar cubes from his dorm’s coffee set-up from his pocket.  “So you’re gonna be hemmed in today.  Sorry ‘bout that.  Blame the young’uns.”  He stroked it’s face, before resting his forehead on the horse’s.

“Mmm.  They’re not so bad.  Just a batch-a dim bulbs.  They’ll brighten up as they get warm.”

He patted the top of her mane once more and left to check on their progress.

Banjo began the slow trudge back to the Mess Hall, where the rest of his team would be waiting.

He got there just in time for their faculty representative to decide to stop dragging his feet and move Team 21 onwards to the stadium itself

“Alright Blackjack, looks like everyone is accounted for. Any stragglers can catch up as you all know the drill by now.”

“Shut up, Tad!”  Banjo called out over the crowd, smirking as he watched the smaller man’s neck stiffen in typical reflexive response to hearing Banjo’s voice.  “We all know you slept in the A.R.C over the holidays.  A hard light projection is not a real friend!”

It had become the soundtrack to the day-to-day for team Blackjack, very rarely did he hit a one-liner that broke the team up in laughter.  A lot fell flat.  Many were tuned out as tedious background noise.  Some even drew disappointment or groans from his teammates, but it didn’t stop him throwing one out there seemingly any time Tad Finch spoke.  He seemingly had a never ending reserve of them ranging from the pointed to the abstract and weird.

The group found their level as they’d pair or group up on their walk, minor chatter which hushed as the Stadium drew near.

He felt Calliope’s arm slide in to his, a welcome surprise, and the pair made their way into the Chimera’s Lair.

He felt Calliope lean against him as they found their seats and was warmed by the notion that she still seemed to be in the same headspace as the previous night.  Someone who knew him so well and still wanted more.  He wanted to hug her, but settled for resting his head wordlessly on hers.

The orchestra began to play, building to the introduction.

“All rise for the national anthem!”

All in attendance rose, and as the orchestra belted out their best efforts at ‘O Canada’ which Banjo sang along to…

…with the lyrics of ‘True Blue’ by John Williamson.  A little off key, but he was hardly known for his singing.

‘True Blue… Is it me and yoooooou…
Is it Mum and Daaaad,  Is it a cockatooooooo?

Haven looked down the aisle at him.  Of course, her hearing…  He held his hands out and mouthed ‘What?’ before continuing his song, broad grin across his face.  Calliope nudged him in the ribs, her lips trying to hold a laugh in.

Is it standin’ by your maaaate… when he’s in a fiiiiight
Or just veg-e-miiiiite
True Blue, I’m aaaarskin’ yoooou…’

The anthem drew to a close and everyone shuffled and scuffed to return to their seats.

“It’s my pleasure now to welcome to the stage your newly elected Chancellor, a man instrumental in defeating Hyperion and a dear personal friend, James O’Neil!”

“And now, for some folksy patter from ‘Ol Righty’”  Banjo thought to himself.

“Blahbity blah, wordsin’ it up.  Boy howdy. Gosh gee folks.  I tell ya what…”  Banjo thought to himself as the new Chancellor spoke, before getting distracted by the other figures taking up the stage who he had never seen before.  Trying to place her, but coming up with nothing.

Banjo suddenly felt eyes on him.  More than quite a few.  “Wait… did a telepath just project my thoughts or… oh.  A joke at my expense.”  He smiled at the foolishness of his first thoughts.

“With that in mind, I’d like to bring y’alls attention to a special visitor.”  Banjo shook his head and chuckled at the ‘y’alls’.

“As a part of our ongoing efforts to improve the school and do best by each of you, Pacific Royal is looking at collaborating with the Alexandria Foundation … ”

Ohhhh right.  Them.  Zimmerman was going on about them earlier.  

Cheers rose from all around him.  Some reference to sport, by the looks and overwhelming enthusiasm of Rory and Katja.

“But we’re looking for your cooperation in making Ms. Torres and her fellow Foundation members feel as welcome as you would a new student.  The Foundation will be auditing classes and learning how we do things at Pacific Royal.  Be sure to show them why our Chimeras are the best.”

Wait… they’re gonna be in our classrooms, watching our classes?  Banjo fought off a laugh at the news.  Maaaaate, I’ll show these tights under dax jokers a thing or two they’ve never seen before…

“Sadly, this isn’t all pomp and circumstance, I do have to rain on this parade.”

Banjo raised a brow.  These early year assemblies NEVER had a down twist or turn.  If they could they’d push bad news further down the line, once people had settled.  They hated to rain on their Homecoming.  Hated it.  As in move Heaven and Earth to avoid it… and they had quite a few people who powerwise could probably move heaven or earth just for the feng shui of it all…

“Given the current societal climate, circumstances beyond our control have conspired to invalidate our accreditations.  To be straight with y’all, Pacific Royal has recently lost its accreditations for our degree programs in the engineering, law and medical fields.  Students currently completing those will graduate with a degree not recognized for career certifications.”

Huh…

Next to him, he heard Calliope inhale.  And that’s where his concern was right now.  He concentrated on what he was hearing, but held her hand and kept watch on her.  He wasn’t bothered by how this could affect him, he’d formed backup plans years ago, not wanting to ever rely on this place or let it hold the fact they might flunk him out over him.  He didn’t need their paper.  If he bombed out he could just drive south of the border, he’d researched it.  Washington state was one of the few states in the United States where you could take the BAR exam without need of a law degree.  If they tried to stick it to him, he could get his BAR card in an afternoon.  Work on locations it would transfer to, loop holes and administrative edges, and find a way to reunite with Calli within the week.

But this wasn’t his plans getting derailed.  It was the unthinkable.  They were doing this to HER.

And he knew exactly how she’d be taking it.

“Rest assured, we are working around the clock to get approval for credit transfer to several distinguished universities in both Canada and the United States.  We do not want your hard work to go to waste.  The Bureau has agreed to pay tuition for any student who chooses to transfer along with helping relocate students to their new campus.  I understand going to another school is not ideal—”

He felt her tremble against him.  She needed more.   She was spiralling.  He squeezed her hand to let her know he was there.

She raised her head, and he felt relieved that she had at least regained enough composure to do at least that much.  He could see she wanted to cry but she wouldn’t.  He put his head near hers and tried to offer a reassuring smile, but she wasn’t ready for that yet, wasn’t even aware he was doing it.  He was turned almost completely to her, and away from the stage.  She was his focus.

He wished this problem had a face, so he could punch it.

And then one of the newcomers broke their silence.

“Provided Pacific Royal and its Bureau are amenable to our conditional terms, the Alexandria Foundation has authorized me to extend our certifications to the students of the affected programs.”

Banjo’s head raised.  Timely.  Too timely.

He lifted his head above Calliope for a few seconds and took in the entire crowd, as they filled the stadium, and a singular thought flashed into his mind as he took them all in.

‘Shareholders’.

He had no interest in entering Corporate law, but he had developed at least a broad understanding from his Law classes in general.

He turned back to the stage with a scowl.

He recognised a hostile takeover when he saw one.

He returned his attention to Calliope, and tried to ground her in the present.

“As many of you are already aware, the Alexandria Foundation is here this year to audit Pacific Royal and to bring it up to our standards.  We’re interested in acquiring this school and helping it move past that, what would you call it, Mr O’Neil?  Little faux-pas with your previous Chancellor.”

Geez-us…  Now that one was heavy.  Not the shot at the school.  That was intended to bait.  To draw conflict from Jim, from someone, as he heard comments from those within his team, it would’ve even worked on some.  But that wasn’t what Banjo took from it.

Acquisition.  They had confidence they could do it.  They weren’t at all afraid of saying the quiet part loud.

“The Foundation holds the students of Pacific Royal in very high regard and we want to ensure each of you is allowed to succeed this year.  So far we’ve been met with resistance from your administration, but we’re looking for your support.  So please, tell your Team Advisor, your Faculty Representatives, anyone who will lend you an ear that you want a new path forward for P.R.C.U.”

He turned his attention back to the crowd again.  Another plea to the ‘shareholders’.  Trying to further drive a wedge in the schism.  Right in front of Jim.  They’re baiting him, and selling to them.

But Jim O’Neil was a man used to not taking the bait.  After all… he’d had to deal with Banjo’s bullshit for five years.  He wasn’t buying this kind of sucker play, as much as he might have wanted to unload with that Smith & Wesson 629 he was rumoured to carry, or have in the drawer of his desk, if you listened to the fantastic tales of the student body.

“Continuous improvement, that’s exactly why we have allowed the Foundation here this year.”  Jim interrupted, maintaining composure and attempting to wrangle back control of the stage, seizing the podium whilst raising his hands to clap the effort.  His eyes held dual meanings to their ‘esteemed guests’, but his body language stayed true to message for the kids.  “Students, let’s give a good ol’ Pacific Royal Welcome to Ms. Torres and her aid, Miss Almassian.”

Haven dropped a threat that extended beyond ‘implied’, and Calli made her feelings known.

“Whoever she is, I hate her.  If she thinks I’m doing anything to make her life easier here, she has another thing coming.”

She had assumed enough control to get herself to her feet, no longer spiralling, now perhaps powered by her own rage.

“I need to use the restroom, I’ll be right back.”  She said icily.

Banjo nodded, but made a mental note to check on her in a few minutes if she didn’t come back promptly.  He offered her an expression of concern, hoping to get something back to convince him that she would be alright, but she was too driven to look back.

And now, with a thorough dampener poured over proceedings, they attempted to return to the festivities of the Homecoming Trials.

He could just imagine the rage coming from Jim and the inner faculty.  They HATED anything to interrupt this, they’d hold off on bad news to prevent things souring this moment.  It was a sacred cow like few others this school had.  Even Banjo was hesitant and usually pulled some kind of prank early before, rather than the day of, because he knew how nuts they were over this for some reason.

They continued with the ceremonial aspects, which included busting out human firelighter Lorcán's Dad, to light the ceremonial torch.

Banjo looked down the aisle and he was gone.  So had Calli, and so had Aurora.

He thought to himself for a moment about everyone who had gone, and everything that had just transpired, and the newest latest threat, and started to wonder something.  He started to wonder how someone in particular was handling everything that had just come to pass.

His head turned to look down the aisle and...

Calliope came back down the aisle and forcefully sat down in her seat once more.  “I’m fine.”  She stated in a tone that made it clear it was not to be argued with.

“Fair enough.”  Banjo thought to himself.

Calliope brushed against him on her way through, but as always he doesn't feel the cold shoulder.

It's looking past her and watching their newest teammate's full-throated laugh that chills him to his core.

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Hidden 7 mos ago Post by Lord Wraith

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“My office, ten minutes.” Jim growled towards the two women from the Foundation while he stepped down from the podium. Turning towards Miranda, he spoke again.

“I have a feelin’ I’m going to be tied up, can y’all meet with the House Reps and Faculty to run damage control for the time bein’ and ensure the Trials run as planned?”

“What are you going to do, Jim?” Miranda asked, placing a firm hand on the Chancellor’s arm. Jim smiled broadly before answering.

“Gonna give that Torres woman, a big damn Pacific Royal welcome.”

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: Office of the Chancellor - Pacific Royal Collegiate & UniversityWelcome Home #1.048: A Pacific Royal Welcome
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Interaction(s): NonePreviously: Unprecedented Whiplash

“I don’t know who y’all think you are, but here we usually have some damn decorum. You had no damn right to hijack my speech. That news was hard enough to deliver, the students didn’t need you usin’em as leverage.” Jim roared, his booming voice echoing about the office and through the walls into the hallway.  “And really, we lose our damn accreditation the day that you show up and we’re just supposed to accept that’s what the hell happened. Sorry Ma’am, but that dog don’t hunt.”

Torres opened her mouth to respond. Jim didn’t give her the chance.

“And another thing, I sure as hell don’t like bein’ bullied, I don’t like bein’ damn coerced and I don’t like bein’ extorted-” Pacing behind his desk, Jim suddenly spun on the heel of his boot, placing his Stetson down on the desk.

“But you come for my kids, for the students and you and I are goin’ to have a problem. A big damn problem. You come here, nose up in the air like you already own the joint, but sister, don’t even pretend for a second we ain’t got a dozen of yours already transferred here to get away from you. Hell, most of ‘em are still talkin’ through their trauma even after being here for years. Our dirty laundry might be public, but don’t pretend for a second that your Foundation ain’t rotten at the core.”

“I suggest you refrain from further slander lest this become a legal matter.” Torres cautioned, managing to respond while her composure remained unbothered by Jim’s tone or volume level.

“I’m not one to kiss the ring, hell after that stunt today, I have half a mind to throw y’all off this island, but I know your Foundation has H.E.L.P.’s cajones in a real vice grip. And ain’t no bull out there that wants to be castrated. The Director asked me to play nice and for the time being, you have something I want. At the end of the day, I need my senior class to graduate with their deserved accreditation, so what do I need to do to make that happen while H.E.L.P. fights the real battle.” Taking a seat behind his desk, Jim leaned back in his chair while he waited for the response. Torres’ aid, Miss Almassian stood up, connecting her tablet to the screens in the office before sending the list of proposed changes for all to view.

“Effective immediately, the Foundation requires that Pacific Royal begins terminating the uniform policy, the school houses and the teams. You have too many denominations that effectively provide the same experiences. Students will still dorm together and have classes together. There’s no need to sow division with artificial segregation.” Torres began only for Jim to start shaking his head.

“That’s not a term or an accommodation, that’s a total restructuring of our school. We can remove the uniforms, but the Houses and the Teams are central to the way we run things here. To abolish the House system would be to squash the homecoming trials, the one high note the students have left after that meeting.”

“If you could let Ms. Torres speak, we will hear your suggestions at the end.” Maya snapped at Jim before Torres gently patted her on the arm.

“Throwin’ you off the island is lookin’ real good.” Jim muttered.

“Codenames, aliases and pseudonyms will no longer be prohibited on campus and if a student wished to go by such a name, then a teacher would not be tolerated for referring to them by any previous name. That name was given to them, not chosen. It’s no longer their identity. Freedom of self-expression needs to be nurtured and reinforced.” She continued, unphased by the previous comment.

“We want to see a curriculum enforcing individuality brought in. Members of our faculty will be transported to your campus and will begin teaching courses on individuality, enforcing how Hyperhumans need to find an identity in themselves before venturing out into the world.”

Maya was nodding along enthusiastically with each word that Teresa was saying. Jim had no idea what Torres had done to earn this level of loyalty from Miss Almassian.

“As long as I am on this campus, it needs to operate by the Foundation’s standards. Practical Ability Training will be replaced with sparring to find new potentials for the Foundation Force. Inhibitors and other power limiters will be removed from all students immediately. We will not tolerate pulled punches. There are no punches pulled beyond this island. Why train them for failure?”

Gritting his teeth, Jim took a moment, considering everything that Torres had said while he formulated his response. Tension hung in the air for several minutes before Jim broke the silence.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. Y’all are going to give my graduatin’ students your accreditations and I’m going to allow you to teach your courses. I’m going to get rid of the academic uniforms, dress uniforms and the prohibition on codenames, but the physical training uniforms and other athletic wear will remain, along with the protective suit used during Practical Ability Trainin’ which will also continue. Y’all will be allowed to run your sparrin’ sessions, provided the safety protocols engaged.  Limiters will remain; per a case-by-case evaluation with applicable students, but inhibitors will be removed and replaced with limiters. Lastly, the inter-house teams and the house system will stay in place. These systems are too ingrained in our school to simply remove when the semester has already started.”

He leaned forward over his desk, intertwining his mechanical fingers with his biological hand, mirroring an assertive position he had seen Jonas do countless times in his years as Chancellor. Jim lowered his voice to a venomous baritone before adding his final sentiment.

“And if y’all have any problem with it then Nakamura can get his ass to the Great White North and tell me himself.”

“This compromise-” Torres mused, pursing her lips like a person enjoying a delicious meal. “-is acceptable.” She replied, her lips curving into a smugly satisfied smile. “I’ll inform my staff to prepare for transport.”

Standing to leave, Torres paused, before turning back to Jim.

“One other thing,” Torres began, “In a show of good faith, your senior dance, I’d like it to be done our way.” She explained.  

“A themed dance. You don’t have the uniforms anymore to fall back on, so I think it’d be a good show of faith to let your students express themselves.”

Letting out a resigned sigh, Jim nodded before speaking.

“I do, thankfully, know just the people to put on it.”

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_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: The Beach; Flashback. - Pacific Royal CampusWelcome Home #1.049: malcontent.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Interaction(s): katja. - @Zoldyck.Previously: TBD

Amma was the next to speak up after Katja, and she had quite a few things to say. Her words were harsh. In but a few lines she shattered the illusion that some of her fellow team members had about their futures. To others, it was a reminder of the cruelty that awaited them outside of P.R.C.U. 

Despite Gil’s best efforts, it was clear that Amma’s words had irrecoverably soured the mood. It didn’t take long before the first of the group said a quick goodbye and left. Blackjack’s wholesome little campfire gathering was officially over.

Her words had indeed been harsh. But to Katja, they were the truth. Not only that, but Amma’s words seemed to confirm what Katja had felt about the girl all this time. That she might in fact truly be a kindred spirit. It sparked a curiosity in her. An immediate desire to talk with this strange girl.

Blackjack’s powerhouse slowly got to her feet, never taking her eyes off of the raven haired girl. She said some absent minded goodbyes to some of the others before making her way over to Amma. Katja took a knee in front of the other girl, the fire burning brightly behind the blonde girl.

Katja gazed up at the sky, her eyes darting from one star to another. “It’s a beautiful night.” A gentle smile formed on her lips when she turned her attention back to Amma, her blue eyes meeting those of the tattoo-covered girl.  “I think it’s a wonderful time for a walk, don’t you agree?” Katja kept her eyes fixed on Amma’s, giving a barely perceivable tilt with her head to emphasize that she wanted to speak with her in private

The blonde girl got back to her feet before the other girl replied. Katja did her best not to break her eye contact with Amma’s blue eyes, making sure she kept the French girl’s attention. “I would love it if you joined me.” She then extended her hand, hoping Amma would accept her invitation.

	“No,” Amma snaps, the bite of her gleaming teeth perched on her pout, “I don’t, Katja.”

She knew what she was doing, from the cant of her head, to the rigid stare that bespoke of gentle intentions and calming intensity. She was trying to get her away from the group, likened to an animal bearing fang and claw, needing to be placated less she turn rabid. She knew the procedure. From behind the powerful figure, the fire crackled in response, now woven intimately with her power and casting a hated, scarlet glow. Whilst she denied her, Amma also knew that Katja was unwavering in her conviction and would not hesitate to take that proffered gesture and turn it lethal to grab her and drag her off into the moonlight with a reprimand baited on her tongue. 

Still, she rose with grace to her sandaled feet, and tucked the wine bottle into the crook of her clothed arm. The tendrils of flame dancing and beckoning to her influence, sparks of red and silver betwixt them as if enslaved to her very nature. 

	“But I’m bored of this, anyways.”

She made a notion of parting through those that remained in the group, deliberately approaching them instead of turning her back to them in a miscalculated retreat. Amma sliced her blue eyes through the night, the eerie demonstration of power illuminated through the depths of her striking gaze. She walked farther away, back towards the way she originally came before she stopped, angling her body just so; her guarded profile immediately drawn and taut.

	“I know what you’re going to say.” She confessed, expression suddenly melancholic. “And I’m not sorry.” 

A regretful sigh escaped Katja’s lips as Amma rejected her offer and got up on her own. Her extended hand had slowly closed into a frustrated fist. Not so much because of Amma’s reply, but more so due to her own lack of subtlety that she had clearly seen through. Katja’s approach seemed to have offended her, which had been the exact opposite to what she had intended.

She paused for a brief moment, thinking that it might perhaps be better to not bother Amma for the rest of the evening. But the faint traces of energy that she left behind still drew Katja to confront the raven haired girl. So, after taking a deep breath and with her fists clenched in determination, she turned around in pursuit of the other girl.

It only took Katja a few strides to catch up with Amma, just in time for the girl to address her. Keeping a respectful distance, a sad but amused smirk on her face.

	“It was never my intention to reprimand you, Am.” Katja spoke with an uncharacteristically soft, apologetic tone clearly resounding in her voice. Putting her hands in her hoodie’s pockets, she tried to come across as disarming as possible.

She cast her gaze down to the ground, kicking up some sand as she contemplated her next words. “I just wanted to talk with you. No reprimand, no demand for an apology. Just a conversation between the two of us.” 

Katja’s eyes looked up at Amma again as a sad smile formed on her lips. “So please, indulge me on this one… You know how stubborn I can be.” She said as she chuckled softly, hoping that Amma would relent.

It was something of a novel, witnessing that crestfallen expression etch its way across that face often alighted in a broad grin. The kind of smile that accentuated her already placating demeanor and overall exuberance, of which now bore a frustrated sort of sorrow. 

Amma realizes, and not for the first time, just how cutting her words could be.

However, regret evades to her lips, refusing to utter an apology for what she was. Unyielding, uncompromising - almost unfeeling. It is a retrospect for another time, another place, perhaps even never. Instead a soft sigh pumps out from her lungs, deflating her tense posture just a tad as she says:

	“How was your… summer?” 

It is the closest to an agreement Amma can give, all that she can offer as the sand beneath her shifts and quakes, the individual grains sifting through the eternal wake of power she expels just by simply being.

	”I was stuck here, on the island,” she continued, gaze tossed aside, seeing nothing as the night phases into the gloom, bedecked in silver linings. ”Turns out I have restricted permission when not on school grounds.”

The tall blonde’s eyes initially lit up as Amma appeared to lower her barrier towards her, a smile starting to form on the blonde girl’s face. In her excitement Katja got a little closer to Amma, now standing alongside the other girl. But the corners of her mouth slowly fell as Amma’s question finally started to get registered by the taller girl.

Katja averted her gaze as ran a hand through her hair before letting out a long, frustrated sigh.“If I’m being completely honest, I don’t think it would’ve mattered whether you were stuck here or out there. At least here you’re not forced to wear their damned collars.” Just mentioning the HZE Inhibitors made Katja’s skin crawl. She hated those devices with a fiery passion. They denied her of what she truly was and above all felt like a tool to humiliate her and her fellow Hypes.

Katja hesitated for a moment before she replied. “My summer actually could’ve gone a lot better. I went back to visit my sister and uncle, as I always do. But the outside world is changing at a rapid pace.” She paused for a moment, as a lump formed in her throat. She bit her lower lip to collect herself before she continued. “It took less than a week before the first brick flew through the front window. Me being there put them at risk.” Balling her fists, Katja turned her gaze to the horizon. “So I told them that I wouldn’t return after I finish my studies. It is the only way to keep them safe. Safe from being associated with me.”

Her expression noticeably hardened, a barely perceptible twitch could be seen on her lips before she continued speaking. “You were right.” Her voice was soft, but there was an unmistakable trace of anger in her tone. “What you said earlier, about them being afraid of us. You were one hundred percent right.”

Katja cast her gaze towards Amma, her blue eyes locking with those of the raven haired girl next to her. There was a fierceness in her eyes, one borne out of anger and determination. “Honestly, that was the primary reason I wanted to talk to you right now. You said what the others don’t say, or they refuse to say it. And for that, I wanted to thank you.”

	“Hah,” Amma rejoins, lips curling around a sneer that narrows her gaze into a glare. “I’d like to see them try and put those things on me.” 

She’s worn them once before under the disguise of conditioning and training, when it was cruelly intended to harden her constitution whilst helpless and weak. She doesn’t say so aloud, for what good would it do to utter the past sins under the secretive cloak of the night. 

Instead, Amma goes silent, almost in reverence. She has heard the stories before, the tales of Katja's family and her struggles into adulthood. In her reflective moments, bricks are exchanged for splinters of wood and stone, a pool of acclaimed purity looming before a scarlet twilight that shatters through elegant, stained glass adorned in depictions of worship.

What Katja utters next banishes her solemn reflection, trading for perplexity instead. She is surprised, in some way, to have someone agree with her without hesitation or even a shred of doubt. That bold, unwavering gaze of blue has her stilling, her reserves of self preservation allowing a bloom of kinship take place. Amma was the harbinger of rage, the harkoning call of betrayal and truth that reaped the world for all the wrong it had permitted. She was the reaper in the crimson light of dawn and subdued blues of twilight; the void that was nothing and yet everything.

Omnipotent.

	“They live in a rose colored world,”Amma claims with what could be a twinge of perhaps envy inflecting her voice. Her fingers clutched around the bottle tucked into the crook of her arm wherein she studies that nondescript label before slowly tipping it over, allowing the contents to spill and drench the sand at their feet. “Better they know the harsh reality that awaits them than be taken under by it.”

She had been there once before: a ten year old girl taken again and again. 
She inhales sharply suddenly, splintering lines of temperamental red snaking through the now empty bottle. It splinters, glass plinking and being reduced into nothing but crushed remains that surrender to the growing night.

	“But I wouldn’t thank me just yet, Katja. I wouldn’t thank me at all. I don’t deserve that, not even from you.” 

	"It is simply the truth, and nothing more.”

Katja solemnly nodded in affirmation to Amma’s words. She had never really spoken about her feelings regarding the outside world. Not to anyone in Blackjack anyway. Now, for the first time, it felt like she had someone who understood this side of her. And someone who wasn’t afraid to give her a much needed reality check.

She observed the shattering of the wine bottle with great interest. Or, to be more precise, she observed the demonstration of Amma’s powers. It was a terrifying and destructive power, possibly the most destructive one Katja had ever witnessed up close. But at the same time, she couldn’t help but be mesmerized by it. The red sparks of all consuming energy easily shattered the empty bottle, its splinters turned into dust before her very eyes.

It was a terrifying power, yes. But to her, it was also exceptionally beautiful.

She remained quiet as Amma continued speaking. A feeling of regret came over Katja as she looked down at the other girl. Even Though she wasn’t great at reading people, it was clear that her words had an unintended impact on Amma, one of sadness and pain. 

Katja gingerly wrapped her arm around Amma before giving a gentle, comforting rub on the smaller girl’s shoulder. Still looking down at her, a reassuring smile formed on the taller girl’s lips. “It meant more to me.”

Slowly her smile turned into a smirk before she uttered a singular chuckle.  “And last I checked, I decide who deserves my thanks.” Katja bent through her knees to reach eye level with Amma. “And Am, you definitely deserve it.” She flashed a grin before rubbing her shoulder again, a little rougher this time but still meant reassuringly.

If Amma Cahors ever had a friend in the world, she wouldn’t know it. There was nothing that she could compare it to. The genuine words, the reassurances communicated through touch and the sheer lunacy of reality that came with it. She does not deserve anything. Not like this. With a shuttered breath, she allows the remainder of destroyed and splintered glass to fall away from her palms, her chin dipped into a slow nod. To have Katja at her level was daunting, the sheer presence of her doubled in intensity.

	“I suppose.” It’s the closest she comes to acceptance, not quite willing to allow herself this moment of merit and praise.  

	“Goodnight, Kat.” It’s all she has left to give, all that Amma can spare as she nods in confirmation and maneuvers herself away, retreating back into the shadows.

Katja’s smile twitched at the realization that Amma was planning to leave. She didn’t want her to leave yet. There had been one more question she had wanted to ask the other girl, one that was on the tip of her tongue. But even Katja could see that she would be pushing it with Amma if she tried to extend their conversation. Instead she resigned herself to their goodbye, for now at least.

She gave Amma a short wave after getting back to her full height. “Goodnight Am, and see you tomorrow!” Her gaze followed Amma, thinking about how she maybe should go after the raven haired girl and ask her question before she disappeared into the night.

Her train of thought got interrupted by her phone buzzing in her pocket. Her eyes lingered on Amma for a few more moments before she finally fished her phone out of her pocket. Reading the plain text message, her expression visibly hardened. She stared at her phone for a few seconds before closing the screen. When she looked back up she saw that Amma was gone, and with her went the burning desire to ask that simple question.

Katja pocketed her phone again before she turned around and went back to her dorms. “Right on time, I guess.” she murmured to herself.

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_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: The Chimera's Lair - Pacific Royal CampusWelcome Home #1.050: immortal.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Interaction(s): &&Previously: descension & malcontent.

In the dark hours meant entirely for lovers, she drifts atop slick rocks and deadened braids of reeds. Delicate perches of her feet betwixt one step and the next, silver cloaking her like lamplight that defined every feature of pale skin and blue eyes aglow in direct challenge of the stars above.

Cliff faces loom ahead in the night, sighing with the waves against their rigid peaks and caverns, the sapphire depths below churning with froth. She stands as a specter until the dawn approaches, the world awash in grays and pale blues and when a certain figure dots the horizon, only then does she leave her vigil. The ground where she had been is blackened, rotted, but beneath the coating of ash a flower possessed of a fiery red core stands tall.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

	Amma didn't have a roommate, and such was a luxury as she dressed languidly and donned the fitted blazer she paid little heed to. A skirt settled over her hips, belt secured and black stockings rolled carefully up to her thighs before she balances on the balls of her feet to slide into the loafers she opted for this day. The heels beside them beckon, but she recalls being scolded more often not and combs arachnid gestures through her tumble of ebony hair before exiting the dorms. 

At the mess hall she is quiet. The night prior has her flitting to the outer edges of the team, the tense atmosphere is subtle, but later broken by a performance of antics. Amma looks on carefully and doesn't shy away from the moment Lorcán adjusts himself into something proper. Heat flushes her neck, but she simply pans her gaze south and then away with arms crossed delicately. Brazen, sure, but just a smidge tactless.

Still, a small smile forms there.

The proceedings into the stadium is met with the same silence where she finds her seat somewhere on the edges of Blackjack and it is there a coiled ball of spires shoots into her spine. Blue eyes snap to the stage, and there they stay - unwavering . 

Something isn't right.

The speeches are pretty, the anthem is darling, and still her eyes never leave the dais. So, when the announcement sounds and a familiar pair is introduced, Amma's entire being stills. What follows thereafter is a haze, a film, muffled voices plucking away at her ears that she cannot hear. In the distance she looks to Winter Caspian -- what was the fucking point? Why take her, why fight so hard to transfer her here. If only to allow them beyond these walls she once thought, maybe, could be something more.

Amma's rage is not personified in explosive breadths of power, nor is it explicit words coated in hate and confusion; it is not contained emotions that wallow in the pit of imprisonment or the despair of the unobtainable.

Her rage is a silent quake: a shaky breath before the storm whilst the world suddenly stills, appetence rots away at her core and with it the void arises liken to a beast slumbering away in the depths of the deepest recesses of forgotten shadow and legend. Her poise remains refined and elegant, but within the bank of her darkening eyes rimmed in crystalline hues, Amma is positively incensed. Beneath the perch of her body, the ground shudders in fearful reproach and the chair is lost in hopeless bedlam as red and silver fissure through the metal and groan in protest. A pitched drone sunders the silence, hidden beneath the outrage and declarations to a future suddenly forsaken.

Amma stands with a flourish, and the world takes a breath.
Holds it.

And she laughs.

It punches through her throat in a sudden gasp of air and it's all Amma can do to contain the mania abound through her blood and bones, crackling whips of red and black snaked down her thighs and imbedded deep through the sphere of destructive power that answers to her roar.

She had been traded from one prison to another, only this one was gilded in bars of tarnished gold. 

Her laughter suddenly ceases, abruptly shortened by the puncture of breath whistling through her lungs as the world trembled at her feet. Control, she commanded. Control. It was a singular mantra betwixt both heart and mind, forming a construct of stability as vicious lines of scarlet snapped away from her palms and corded themselves tight around her throat whilst she whispered a sullen lullaby. Amma regains her composure swiftly and much like a queen is to her court, she primly folded her fingers at her front and regarded Torres from afar with a cool detachment that betrayed the symphony of nihilism that still sang through her body.

It is no surprise then that she approaches her, assistant at her flank as they descend from the stage, eyes of both wariness and superiority. Amma ascends to the baited challenge there, meets them halfway by closing that distance with an empowering swagger.

"We don't have long, seems ten minutes is all we can spare." Almassian informs, halting just before her, whilst Torres performs a show of taking one more step forward.

"I won't go back." It is not a denial or a plea; it is Truth, it is her Will and it is Conviction. 

"It seems your world really did get smaller if you think this is all about you, Tiamat." She does not bother to correct her, for this was a game: a chess board of muddied ebony and ivory pieces, only she knows not what side she stands upon or what pieces she is to play. It is with a restrained laugh that Amma says:

"A whole year goes by, and not a word. Why now?"

"That is not your concern, interesting uniform, by the way. I recall you much better suited to chains and void-black. The yellow does nothing for your complexion my dear." Amma clutches at the wolverine crested over her breast, the muted ochre against her inked and embellished skin suddenly stark in contrast. She doesn't realize she opted for the tailored alteration that advertised her assorted house and team, the spade woven there on her sleeve suddenly weighing akin to a stone. 

"You really thought you could do it, didn't you? Think you could be a normal girl, in this school, attend classes, graduate. The Foundation Force is still cross, you know. Such potential - wasted. And for what? All purpose of individuality lost, traded for a limitation on your very nature." A harsh whisper, almost in sheer disbelief. 

"My nature -"

"Is what we made it. Do not forget, Tiamat, that you are who you are, because we made it so." Torres beckons yonder, to where a warped chair is left in display. Almassian silently then procures a colorless box with her name scrawled atop in penmanship eerily familiar. The name branded to her throat suddenly flares alive in memoriam. "Consider this a reminder, or a present rather. Welcome home, Ammar-"

"Don't." It is the closest she has ever come to supplication, a crack in her usual cadence. Fists clenched at her sides where ruby smiles bloomed into her palms, she hardly notices the pain. All she can see is the void where a child weeps to the shadows - maman where did you go?

"Take it. Remember, for chaos is not done with the likes of you, and neither are we."

Her nails prick against the ivory in her hands, she knows what lays within, her name emblazoned there, her name --

Amma Cahors can feel their eyes on her, the rest of Blackjack, awaiting her next move, wary for the coils of her manifest to spiral to and fro. She wants to lay waste to the land.

She knows she can't.
But fuck, did she want to.

Instead she lifts her chin, glare defiant and framed by lashes spiked by unshed emotions she is too proud to spare. She is the solitary creature suspended between friend and foe. Between the known and the unknown. Amma pirouettes on her heel, exciting the stadium with all the command of a goddess compounded by the wealth power oozing off of her in tangible waves.

It continues all the way to her dorm; she passes her teammates unseeing and unhearing, passing by them all from those still seated to those that had ran away to escape outdoors. 

There, a beast suddenly becomes a little girl, her scars emblazoned all anew.
She had been right all along.
For once, she wishes that she wasn't.

Checkmate.

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As the early dawn rays fell upon the P.R.C.U. campus, Rory Tyler had already been running. He had barely slept, crashing for more of a prolonged nap than a full night's rest. He always had the recurring nightmare right before school started: a certain hyperhuman extremist would roll into a forest clearing wearing a mask, take it off, and it was Rory. At this point, it was getting old. Even he knew why he was having it: years ago, at this exact time of year, he lost any sense of comfort he could ever have. No matter what he did, how much he smiled and gave people nicknames... there was always an unspoken question lingering in the air.

Could you end up like him?

Rory's run slowed to a jog, before he stopped at the nearest bench outside the stadium. He rubbed some of the lingering drowsiness from his eyes, his body still yearning for some sleep. Rory leaned back on the bench, admiring the early morning sky. The lingering trails of cirrostratus clouds reminded him of the silk threads Mei worked. He hadn't been oblivious to her aggressive knitting the night before: something told him it had to do with him. She seemed angry... context clues and some hints from Calliope made it clear he had misunderstood her. He'd have to ask for clarification later, before the Homecoming Trials work started. Maybe she was being nice, and offering to go with him to the dance after a rather embarrassing rejection to a question he hadn't asked. She was probably just being considerate. Even still, he had messed up: that much was clear.

Rory's gaze went out of focus, the colors and shapes of the sky above blending together. He smiled softly, feeling a small breeze roll in with a touch of salt on the wind. The sensation sparked something within him. He quickly reached into his pocket to pull out his phone, opening up his notes app to jot another idea on his "Senior Year Bucket List" note. Right underneath "Try out a Mei Hammock", Rory wrote down a new entry: "Ask Haven to teach me to fly".

He paused after typing, having reflexively went back to the home screen. A group selfie with Blackjack was hidden behind a number of apps Rory never really used. He slid a couple screens over so he could look at the selfie again. He had managed to take it as they were sitting down before the opening ceremony the previous year. Somehow, it felt like almost no time had passed. They didn't have much time left together. Even if Amma was right... they still had a year to make some memories. No one could take that away from them.

Rory pocketed his phone, got up from the bench, and continued his run.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: The Chimera's Lair - Pacific Royal CampusWelcome Home #1.051: Enemies
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Interaction(s): Lorcán - @Lord Wraith, Haven - @SkaiPreviously: Closer

| Monday, September 4th, 2028
The first the rest of the team saw of Rory was as they gathered outside the mess hall. He was one of the earlier ones, arriving around the same time as Gil and just in time to feel a familiar hand smack into his rear end. “Hopefully, you dudes don’t have to sit down too soon, but man, bros, you missed out on some legen-lactose heavy’-dary swells this mornin’. I am totally going to get you both out on a board before we graduate.”

"If you can score me a board for a day, I'll be there, bro." He chortled as Lorcán's pants dropped, continuing to gather with the rest of Blackjack.

As they departed, Rory's pace slowed a bit from walking with Lorcán and Gil. Haven saddled up beside him, keeping a healthy distance. "I always seem to forget how handsome you look in uniform."

Rory turned his gaze towards Haven with a perplexed expression. "But we're always in uniform, bird-brain. Even I don't forget how stunning everyone looks after summer break." Rory shook his head in mock disbelief, smile wide as he took a step out of his way and lifted an arm to bump Haven playfully. He turned around, taking in all of Blackjack as they were approaching in. Harper linked arms with Haven, Calli linked up with Banjo. Aurora and Lorcán were bound to sit next to each other, like always. Rory didn't pay much attention to who he sat next to for the ceremony, his focus on eying the crowd of students to catch a glimpse of Will and Mary. They were a bit apart, caught up with the hoard of freshmen. Will was, unsurprisingly, already looking bored and tired of the whole ordeal. Mary, on the other hand, was busy laughing and talking with everyone around her as she was just settling into her seat. She managed to catch a glimpse of her older brother and gave him a wave. He waved back.

From there, Rory's attention was shot. His attention waded in and out, as he felt his gaze turn towards his teammates. The opening ceremony was always more of a formality than anything else. He was a bit confused, however, when he saw Jim enter onto the stage. It took him a moment to realize he had been introduced as the Chancellor. It seemed like an odd pick... but, then again, if Jim could handle Banjo, he could certainly run the whole damn school with ease.

Then, the bomb dropped.

Rory didn't quite understand the nuance of Jim's bad news... but it was made all too clear the second the stranger spoke. She wasn't faculty... and once she continued speaking over the former Blackjack advisor, it was abundantly clear she was a member of the Foundation. Her tone was... off, to say the least. It felt almost rehearsed to him. But the murmuring and frustrations nearby made it clear that something was hitting a chord with some.

Not Team Blackjack, though.

"What's with this bitch?"

Rory couldn't contain an audible wheeze as he managed to catch Haven's comment from behind him, clasping his hands over his mouth. He felt comforted knowing that he wasn't the only one who saw through the charade. Regardless, one by one, he watched as several of his teammates filed out of their seats. First Lorcán, who was chased after by Aurora. Then Haven, whose feathers were clearly ruffled. And then Calliope. Those who remained seemed more shellshocked than anything. Rory's face was blank as he immediately looked for Mary and Will. The former had already turned to look towards Rory and shook her head while maintaining eye contact. He nodded in acknowledgement, reaffirming her suspicions. When Rory looked to Will, he found his younger brother had a sly smile on his lips. Rory's blood ran cold, and he leaned forward in his seat.

Amma's laugh was chilling, Rory's eyes lifting as he watched her descend from their place in the stands. But she wasn't going for the exit... no, she was approaching Torres. There was history and familiarity... but not comfort. His eyes locked on his teammate as they spoke. They were too far to make clear what they could possibly be discussing... but Torres offered a box. A gift. And Amma walked away.

Rory's stomach churned as thoughts raced through his mind. He had never really managed to get much out of Amma, and didn't know much about her. She was cold, abrasive, borderline cruel, and biting in the way she spoke to others. He despised the way she spoke to his friends... but it was clear there was something more going on here. She looked defenseless talking to the Foundation representative, and that thought alone was enough to send a colder chill down his spine. Amma was just about the scariest thing he could think of... no, that wasn't true. There was someone far scarier, another figure who spoke in pre-rehearsed melodrama but had the strength and cunning to back it up. If the Foundation was anything like him, Blackjack and P.R.C.U. were in for a rude awakening.

"So much for a laid back senior year." Rory muttered to himself as he stood up, making his own slow exit out of the stadium.

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“Aurora!”

“Aurora!” Lorcán called again through the darkness as moved his burning hand slowly across the horizon. An impromptu torch, he had created a ball of fire around his hand to cut through the night having been in too much of a panic to secure a proper flashlight. Continuing forward, he could hear the waves of the ocean now, as he stumbled closer to the beach. Sand began to mingle with his toes and pad the sole of his flip-flops.

It had to have been another nightmare, Aurora didn’t go missing in the middle of the night for no reason. The island might have been the safest place in the entire world for Hyperhumans, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t without its dangers. There was still wildlife on the island and while Aurora definitely had the best ability for a quick exit, Lorcán wasn’t a fan of her going through the forest during the witching hours.

Beside him, Rothschild kept pace, the dog’s keen noise touching the ground every couple of paces and adjusting their course. Lorcán didn’t know whether Aurora had run or teleported, but whichever, there seemed to be enough of a scent for Rothschild to track her still.

“Aurora, it’s me, dude!” Lorcán yelled towards the open ocean. “It’s just Lorcán, well Lorcán and Rothschild. We want to make sure you’re all good lady dude!”

Turning slowly, the light of the fire suddenly refracted off of copper-toned hair as Lorcán spotted a familiar shape sitting down the beach with her knees tucked to her chest. Slowing down to a walk, Lorcán sat down beside Aurora. The girl was shivering, her arms tightly wrapped around her chest, a hoodie thrown quickly over pajamas. Closing his eyes for a second, Lorcán concentrated, feeling the ambient HZEs around them as he slowly created a bubble of warmth, watching Aurora’s body language relax as the chill of the night was erased.

“Hey,” He started, placing a warm arm around her, “Just breathe, and when you’re ready, I’m here to listen.”
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: Mess Hall - Pacific Royal CampusWelcome Home #1.052: Not Myself Today
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Interaction(s): @Rockette - Amma Cahors[Flashback], @Melissa - Aurora MitchellPreviously: Trapped

Bursting out of the stadium, Lorcán stripped off his blazer before breaking open several buttons on his shirt, frantically doing anything he could to breathe freely. Pacing back and forth along the grass behind the stadium, he began to slap his right thumb against his belt by his hip. Rotating his forearm at the elbow as he began to find a rhythm. The fingers on his left hand began to tap on an invisible fretboard while Lorcán tried to center himself. Finding his rhythm, the melody soon followed and Lorcán found himself humming an old song from his Dad’s music collection.

♫ She eyes me like a Pisces when I am weak ♫

This wasn’t like him, he wasn’t the one to get upset. Everyone looked to Lorcán to be the one to bring the vibe. He was chill, happy, content. But each and every one of those feelings was fleeting at the moment. Never before had he felt so overwhelmed. The blood pounded in his ears, his chest tightened and his hands became unsteady, shaking off beat.

♫ I've been locked inside your heart-shaped box for weeks ♫

Looking towards the treeline of the forest that bordered the campus, Lorcán had every impulse to run.

♫ I've been drawn into your magnet tar pit trap ♫

Jim approached the group, beside him was a slim, raven-haired girl who to Lorcán appeared to be covered head to toe in tattoos. He smiled, looking towards his right arm and picturing how it might look with tattoos of his own.

“Listen up y’all, we’ve got a live one here. I’d like you all to meet our new transfer, Amma Cahors. She’s a little late for the Trials this year, so we’ve gone ahead and did our own evaluation and Amma will be joining House Gulo.” Jim explained to the gathered Team Blackjack.

“She brings our numbers back up to a solid twelve, so make sure y’all give her not only a warm Pacific Royal welcome, but also some of that Blackjack charm.” He paused, turning towards Banjo.

“And I do mean, charm.”

As the team collectively issued their welcomes, Lorcán hung back, watching Amma. He had seen tattoos before, but never so many. It was absolutely entrancing watching the way she carried herself. Most new students had a timid composure, closed off but while Amma was guarded, she held her chin high. Like an empress walking among the common folk.

“Dude,” Lorcán smiled, approaching Amma as the rest returned to their previous activities. “Your tats are totally rad, did they hurt?”

Amma lifted her icy blue eyes towards Lorcán. He felt a slight tingle run down his spine as she looked not at him, but through him. It was as though she was evaluating Lorcán, surveying him for any sign of a threat before responding.

"Did they hurt?" She laughs. "What do you think? Of course they hurt, every-" She steps closer.

"Single."

Amma drops her voice in pitch.

"One."

Her face was hovering close enough to Lorcán now that their noses were practically touching. The spiced aroma of the forest after a fresh rainfall danced and teased Lorcán’s olfactory sense. It was distinctly different from the sweet florals he was accustomed to from Aurora.

“Dude,” Lorcán spoke, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “You’re like, totally intense.” 

He held her gaze, not moving before asking another question.

“But, did you like the pain?” A playful smirk danced in the corner of his mouth.

Surprise flickers there in her depths of blue - sparkling.

A challenge.

"Of course I did. It's how one feels alive."

♫ I wish I could eat your cancer when you turn black ♫

“Lorcán,”

A hand touched his shoulder bringing Lorcán out of the memory before it suddenly recoiled at the temperature of his skin. He quickly turned towards the source of the hand, his eyes going wide as he realized it was Aurora. Grabbing her hand, Lorcán gave it a gentle squeeze before turning it over and inspecting for burns.

“Dude, I’m sorry, if I had known you were behind me-”

“Hey, hey, breathe, talk to me.”

“I-” He started, “I don’t even know where my head is at dude, I just can’t help but feel it’s no coincidence that Amma was so spot on last night. I don’t like feelin’ trapped, that ain’t my vibe, y’know. I thought we had one more year and then we were out, free to pursue our lives.” He took a breath, still holding Aurora’s hand, not realizing just how comforting he found it before now.

“Don’t get me wrong, working for H.E.L.P. and on an Albatross would be sweet, sick even but like, if the Foundation takes the school, how much longer until the Foundation takes over H.E.L.P. entirely and wipes it out.”

Lorcán gave Aurora’s hand a quick squeeze before releasing it.

“I’m glad I didn’t hurt you, I don’t think I could have forgiven myself if I had.” He added solemnly.

“I just hate the idea that we’re all being used as pawns in someone else’s game. I know to most people Jonas is a villain, but I knew the real dude and he was like the grandpa I never had. Neither of my ‘rents’ parents wanted anything to do with them, let alone me. Jonas always had time for me, even when, or if he had been Hyperion along the way.” Lorcán crinkled his nose, taking a moment to swallow before continuing.

“Five years ago, everything went crazy. The worst part is, I don’t hate him for what he was trying to accomplish, I hate him for leaving us in the state we are now-”

He looked back towards the stadium before speaking again.

“Vulnerable.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Lorcán looked into Aurora’s eyes, her concern and kindness bringing a smile back to his face.

“Sometimes, I hate my abilities, dude. I feel like they’re just meant for destruction and harm. But your abilities just seem so… freeing. Anytime you want to be somewhere else, you can be there. You’re as free as the sea.”

He mused, looking beyond Aurora. 

“Gone, in an instant.”  He tone softened before reaching out and brushing a strand of Aurora’s hair behind her ear.

“Yet you’re probably the best constant in my life. You’re always here when I need you, lady dude.” He smiled.

Wrapping his arms around here, Lorcán hugged Aurora tightly, his body becoming just a little bit warmer as he did before he released her.

“Thanks for checking on me, I guess I really did just need to talk.”

“Roth!” A male voice yelled as a blonde haired teen emerged around the corner wearing a Canis Blazer. Behind him was a younger brown-haired girl wearing the standard P.R.C.U. crest.

“I saw you beeline out of the ceremony, I assume you’re taking the news pretty hard,” The male stated, before waving to Aurora.

“Ah, glad you got to him first, Aurora,” He added with a small smile before turning to the girl behind him, “Have you had a chance to meet my sister, Ripley yet?”

“You’r-” Ripley stuttered suddenly looking Aurora up and down. “You’re gorgeous, Lorcán never said- OW! Cass!” She shrieked as the male gave her a quick jab in the ribs. Across from his cousins’ Lorcán’s cheeks had flushed almost as red as Aurora’s hair.

“Don’t you have to get back to the administrative building? Reunite with your team?” Cassander teased, mussing Ripley’s hair.

“Hey!” She protested, “Don’t you three have to get your butts to the plateau and build the trial thing?”

“She does have a point,” Cass conceded with a small smile, “I’m going to catch up with Firebird and I’ll see you two with the rest of Blackjack at the construction site. Don’t hesitate to join us for s’mores later! We can talk more then” He called back before shooing Ripley off and running towards the familiar faces belonging to Alyssa Townsend, RJ Scott and Lucille Calder.

“I guess they have a point, dude.” Lorcán reluctantly stated, “Do you want to ‘port us there, or shall we take the scenic route?”

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 H A V E N
H A V E N

&&

Location: Chimera's Lair  - PRCUWelcome Home #1.053: A Matter of a Pinion
Interaction(s): Harper @QiaPreviously: Ruffled Feathers

"Haven, wait up!"

Haven heard Harper's shout behind her, but the open sky outside of the stadium was also calling to her. She could feel the muscles in her body bunching up. Like they were ready to propel her into that open space, to answer the call to let the world disappear below her. To just be free and endless for a while with it.

If she stuck around, would it be worth it? It wouldn't be the first time she cut and ran from an uncertain place. She could make a quick stop at the dorm to change... collect her things into a single bag... and then she'd be off to find her future again.

Haven's legs stopped moving just outside of the stadium. She hastily went to work on her wings. A feeble attempt to smooth out the feathers that threatened to reveal her soul to the world. She stretched them around herself, running her fingers through the plumage until she could hear footsteps reaching the entrance to the stadium. Her wings snapped behind her. Unfortunately they looked just as rough as before.

Her eyes turned towards the open sky as she took a breath, and then she turned her head towards Harper as her friend emerged. "That was a shitshow, huh?" She began, a terrible attempt at a joke. 

Harper, ever the stoic, approached with measured steps. Her expression was a mask, concealing any emotion that threatened to break through. Her voice, when she finally spoke, was a controlled monotone—a tightrope walk between restraint and frustration. "To call it a shitshow would be putting it politely," she stated, her eyes never leaving Haven’s face. She waited, knowing there was more brewing beneath the surface. Harper was willing to give her friend the space to vent, even if it meant absorbing some of that frustration herself.

Haven couldn't deny herself the words that emerged next. Her small form of word vomit few had ever had the pleasure of experiencing. "How could they let her speak to them like that? She made a party joke about Hyperion. The guy took O'Neil's arm, and she talked about it like he spilt a drink on a new rug.”

Harper’s response was laced with shock and disgust. “Appalling,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. The memory of the representative—whose name Harper cared not to remember—speaking about Hyperion as if it were a minor inconvenience that needed cleaning up made her blood boil. She hadn’t been present during the attack, but the pain and trauma of the people who called this place home were evident. The thought that someone could make light of such a horrific event was sickening to Harper. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms, and vowed to find a way to channel her own frustration later.

But for now… for now, she would focus on Haven. 

“What… are you planning to do?”  Harper’s voice held an intensity, a quiet fire that burned beneath her controlled exterior. She wanted to know Haven’s resolve, to gauge whether they were both on the same path or not here. 

Haven looked towards the crowd of students as they began to file past. Her eyes scanned them for an answer to Harper's question. The older faces expressed haunted memories, triggered by the mention of their past tormentor. The newer faces displayed uncertainty of their future. How could Haven make a difference, if her own past was haunted? When her own future was as uncertain as theirs, with or without a degree?

"If it didn't mean jeopardizing our careers, I'd put that rep on her ass." She huffed, her wings shifting behind her as if to say they were ready. She looked into Harper's eyes, searching for reason that she knew Harper could provide. "I want to save the school so we don't have to answer to someone like that... Do you think there's a more subtle way to get what we all want?" The question was inviting Harper's intensity to come forward. There had to be a balance between the fire and reason, right? 

Harper’s response was measured, her voice a low undercurrent of intensity.“As much as I’d love to see her get what she deserves, we need to be smart about this,” she cautioned. The representative, infuriating as she was, held sway over corridors of power that could crush them if they weren’t cautious. Their careers hung in the balance, threads woven into the fabric of this institution.

“We risk jeopardizing everything we’ve worked for,” Harper continued, her gaze drifting toward the stadium’s exit. The students flowed like a river, their futures uncertain. The weight of responsibility settled on her shoulders—an anchor she bore willingly.“But,”she added, turning back to Haven,“I’m not opposed to subtlety. We need a plan—one that won’t endanger us or the school needlessly.” But first…she needed to make sure. 

Harper’s eyes bored into Haven’s, a silent question.“Are you with me on this? Even if it means playing the long game?”  she asked. The fire within her burned, but it was a controlled flame. Patience, strategy—they were their allies now. The stakes were far too high for any impulsiveness.

Haven's hands flexed at her sides. The anger within her had calmed to a simmer. She could already feel the muscles in her wings relaxing, her feathers starting to smooth out. She considered Harper's words for a moment before giving a curt nod. "I'm with you."

Haven saw a flicker of acknowledgment in Harper's eyes, as if the emotions within her burned brighter. They'd found a twin flame within each other. Harper reached for her shoulder, the touch gentle.

"Good,"  Harper said, her voice firm and resolute. "Our first step should be to gather as much information as we can about the rep and her plans. Knowledge is power, and we need all the power we can get on our side."

Haven nodded in agreement, watching as Harper scanned the crowd again. Members of Blackjack were already making their way out of the stadium. Harper's gaze returned to her, a hint of caution within the intensity of her eyes.

"We should keep this between us for now," the brunette added. "The fewer people who know, the less chance there is of word getting back to the rep. We need to be cautious and strategic in our approach, and we can't risk any leaks."

Haven pressed her lips together. It didn't feel right to hide this from the team. "I don't trust Amma, but... what if the others want to do something about this too?" She asked carefully, in case any of them were already heading their way. "How far can we take this before we need their help?"

Harper looked thoughtful, her brows furrowed as she listened to Haven's concerns. While she understood where the other was coming from, she knew that they couldn't afford to take any risks. "I get it, Haven,"  she said, "but we have to be careful. The fewer people who know about this plan, the better. The last thing we need is for the rep to catch wind of what we're doing and shut us down before we even get started."

Harper was fully aware of the delicate and uncertain situation they were in concerning their academic pursuits. She knew that the risk they were taking by pursuing their plan was significant and that their school would be unlikely to support them as well, especially if it meant jeopardizing its already questionable reputation. Despite the odds stacked against them, the brunette was determined to keep going. She had already come too far to give up now and giving up would be akin to surrendering in defeat. She refused to succumb to the pressure and challenges they were facing and was prepared to do whatever it took to achieve their goals.

Her goals. Quitting was not an option. 

She took a step closer to Haven, her voice low and intense. "This person… I get the feeling she'll probably do whatever it takes to protect herself and her interests."

Harper paused, her gaze sweeping the area as well while paranoia etched lines on her features. Her eyes spotted nothing out of the ordinary, so she turned back to Haven, her next words a lifeline. 

“As for how far we can take this,” she continued, “it depends on what we find out. If we uncover concrete evidence against the rep, we’ll bring the rest of the team on board. I promise. But until then, we have to tread lightly and keep our eyes and ears open.”

Haven looked Harper over as if she was really, truly seeing her. "I feel like you could do all of this on your own, if you needed to." She murmured, before a hint of a smile etched onto her features. "What's the best way to get this information, then? We both have the eyes, and I have the ears. You think there's a chance I can get close to the Foundation reps without being detected?" She frowned lightly. "We need to find out what the bitch's ability is, before we continue."

"She could have precognition, or something worse."

Harper's wry smile at the compliment faded, replaced by a steely expression that spoke of her determination. "Yes, finding out her ability has to be our top priority," she agreed. "Perhaps we could create a clever decoy or some kind of diversionary tactic. If it's erratic or difficult to comprehend, it might throw her off, even if she could see a part of the future." Harper's smirk hinted at a plan that was slowly coming to fruition. "And who do we know on the team that's a master of unpredictability?"

Haven's lips pursed as she mulled over the question. It took her a moment, but when realization dawned on her she gave Harper an amused look. "Banjo? Hasn't he been on a good streak recently?"

Harper’s response was laced with a hint of amusement, her dry wit peeking through her serious demeanour. “Yes, he has been surprisingly quiet lately,” she said, allowing a small smile to play at the corners of her mouth. Banjo-level reliable, at least. “Perhaps he’s been saving up all his unpredictability for just such an occasion.” The thought of their clownish teammate acting as a wild card amused her. Besides, if there was ever a reason for him to break from his recent impassivity, it would be in defence of his lady love—Calliope, with her seemingly unwavering commitment to justice and helping those at their lowest. For Harper, it was a rare moment of connection with the blonde. 

Loyalty to her teammates and an unyielding determination to protect them fueled her every move. 

“We’ll have to wait for his move first, though,” Harper continued, her gaze steady. “And hope that he goes big. The fewer connections he has to us at that time, the better.”

Haven took a breath, noticing that the last few stragglers were exiting the stadium. She nodded. "I could always ask him to pull something for me. He's the only one I can think of that could get away with a prank. Plus, he wouldn't mention my involvement if he gets in trouble."

Harper’s gaze remained steady, assessing the risks and rewards.

“That could work,” she acknowledged, her voice measured and thoughtful. “If you think he’d be willing to take the fall for us, it could create the perfect distraction.” Banjo, however, was an enigma even to those who knew him best. His unpredictability was both a strength and a liability. “But make sure he understands the gravity of the situation. I don’t want any of you getting hurt…”

"I don't think he'd do anything reckless. Plus, Banjo's pranks have never gotten anyone hurt." Haven began with a light shrug. She frowned for a second, before giving Harper a determined look.

"I'll take the fall for everything... if we get busted." She started, her tone holding a quiet strength to it. "I can handle my own, and you're going to do great things after graduation. So, I take the fall. Got it?"

After a brief pause, Harper spoke up. Her tone was sombre yet sincere as she addressed Haven. 
"While I appreciate your willingness to take one for the team, we're in this together, and I can't let you shoulder the burden alone," she explained quickly, holding up her hand to stop any interruption. "I understand your need to protect. Trust me, I do. But we need to have each other's backs here.”

Harper's words were firm, leaving no room for argument. She knew that they had to do things her way, or not at all.  "You're also going to do great things later, Haven," she added, with a hint of encouragement in her voice.

"Thanks, Harps." Haven smiled at Harper. She was fully aware that the brunette would admit to helping her, if it came down to it. "I'll get with Banjo at the plateau. Hopefully he's already planning something."

She turned away from Harper, her eyes returning to the open sky. A quick flight to the dorms to change, pack, and then she would be high above the campus and it's problems for a while. It would give her time to think... or just to forget about it all for a little. She broke into a light jog, and then her wings lifted her up and into the space above campus. Thank the heavens for bike shorts. She thought.

Little did Harper know, Haven didn't intend on letting her friend fall with her. She'd crashed plenty of times before, metaphorically and physically, and she still chose to take flight again and again. She trusted herself to do great things with or without a degree. This was the world Haven was used to. The world she'd accepted and vowed to make her own. She would carve out a space for herself somewhere. Even if the world wasn't ready for her yet.

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________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: Mess Hall - Pacific Royal CampusWelcome Home #1.054: The Burden With Dreams
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Interaction(s):N/APreviously: Maybe She Likes Her Illusions

As the flying figure of Haven disappeared into the distance, Harper’s initial burst of confidence began to fade away. The encouraging smile she had given to her teammate gradually vanished from her face as the weight of her words and their implications began to sink in. The frustration that had been building up within her - from Haven’s behaviour, from the moment she was told her dreams were just meant to be that - came back all at once, almost knocking the air out of her lungs. She leaned against the wall of the stadium for support, her breaths ragged and uneven. The weight of her decision, the things she’d said so confidently before,  pressed down on her chest, threatening to crush her spirit.

What the hell had she been thinking?

Did she truly believe that they could take on one of the representatives of the Foundation? Did she forget that their unnerving teammate had come from that very place? And to make matters worse, she was relying on Banjo of all people to execute their plan. Was she so desperate to prove her point, to get what she wanted, that she was willing to put her teammates in harm’s way?

The bitter chuckle that escaped Harper’s lips surprised even herself. She clenched her head in her hands, her body shaking with uncontrollable laughter as her legs lost their strength and sank to the floor. When the tears came streaming down her face, she bent her head into the crook of her arms, torn between hiding her pride, shame, or anguish. 

“But no matter what,”Amma’s words echoed in her mind, “this world will never accept you. They won’t forget. They haven’t forgotten. I doubt they will ever forgive.”

What had Harper seen in those brown eyes that day? Had it been fear or something more? 

Like hate?

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________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: PRCU Gym, Chimera’s Lair - Pacific Royal CampusWelcome Home #1.055: Reality Check
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Interaction(s): Everyone, but in particular Banjo @Hound55 and Harper @QiaPreviously: Unsure Future

PRCU’s gym was remarkably quiet for this time of the day. Only the most dedicated of gymrats were present to get their daily workouts in. It made sense, most of the student body was probably getting ready for the opening ceremony. It was all anyone could talk about today. Most of the freshmen were excited, as they saw this as the beginning of their academic journey. The older students meanwhile were looking forward to what would inevitably follow: The Homecoming Trials.

All in all, there was a notable excitement that hung in the air across the campus. After all, this was always a joyous occasion. Even if, to the most veteran of students, something didn’t seem quite right. They just couldn’t put their finger on what it was.

Katja had been at work all morning, fulfilling her community contribution in keeping the gym clean, restocking the snacks and drinks, checking the equipment for faults and being there to provide help to those students who asked for it. But given the low attendance of the day, she figured she’d take the opportunity to get an extra workout in before the opening ceremony began.

The tall girl sat in the far corner of the gym, at the ultra-dense weight section. This area was specifically built for those students gifted with far greater strength than most. As the name implies, the weights were made of an extremely dense material. So while they looked like regular plates and dumbbells, in actuality they were far heavier than their plain look would suggest. The floor, benches and chairs were reinforced, to make sure that they wouldn’t get damaged by the increased strain of additional mass.

She had been pumping the weights for more than an hour now. It was very relaxing for her, almost like a meditation of sorts. Only here did she gain true serenity. Which had the effect of her mind sometimes wandering off. And today, as she was about to finish her last set of the day, was no different.

	“Eighteen.” She almost growled to herself as she curled the weight of a large motorcycle in her right hand. A terse breath escaping through her clenched teeth.

Her thoughts weren’t focussed on the weight though. Her mind was actually recalling the events of the day before. The ferry, the meeting at the beach, the campfire… Her conversation with Amma. Her strained lip twitched slightly into a smirk as she thought back of the short raven haired girl and her reaction to receiving genuine appreciation. Recalling it now, Katja thought it was cute but also sad at the same time.

	“Nineteen.” She focused on her bicep, watching it expand and contrast with every motion as she held onto the weighty dumbbell. 

Yet, despite her fond memory of her talk with Amma, she couldn’t shake her feelings of disappointment at a conversation she felt had been cut short. She had more to say to Amma, much more. But unfortunately she didn’t get the chance to say it. But honestly, it might’ve been for the best that it ended when it did, as that text message would’ve arrived a few seconds later either way.

And when it called, she had to answer.

	“Twenty!” She exclaimed through gritted teeth with a sense of accomplishment and pride. Her form had notably dipped during the summer break, which was expected. She didn’t have the tools at her disposal like she did at PRCU. But all in all, it wasn’t as bad as last year, so she took the small win.

While reracking the heavy dumbbell Katja looked around the gym and noticed that it had run completely empty. Looking at the big clock hanging over the main entrance, she instantly saw why.
	
	“Kak! Stomme poes wat jy is!”

Katja quickly rushed back to the Alces dorms, nearly bumping into a group of terrified collegiate pupils on her way over. There she had taken a quick shower and with her hair only half dried she put on her uniform. 

In her rush she scrambled to find pieces of her uniform, she eventually landed on the school provided skirt. She tended to avoid wearing it, as she felt it wasn’t quite made for someone of her stature. However, she needed something to wear right then and there if she wanted to make it to the ceremony in time. So, remembering Haven talking about this, she put on her track shorts below her skirt to avoid any possibly awkward moments and she rushed her way over to her window. 

Looking down first to see if the coast was clear, she leapt out of her window and tumbled from the top level of the dorms down. Bracing herself for impact, she triggered her HZEs in order to survive the fall unscathed. A loud thud could be heard as she hit the gravel surface, little pebbles scattering around in all directions. None of the few Alces students still here paid her any heed, they were used to Katja’s theatrical departure from the dorms when she was in a hurry by now. It’s why the House leadership had moved her to a dorm room that wasn’t next to concrete.

Katja joined up with the rest of Blackjack at the agreed upon assembly area, only barely too late. She could feel Tad’s disapproving eyes on her as she sheepishly approached, an apologetic smile on her lips. The walk over to the Chimera’s Lair wasn’t that eventful for Blackjack's tallest member. There was some smalltalk here and there, but nothing too memorable. 

Her mind came into focus once they made their way through the gates of the Lair though. It was always an exciting feeling for Katja. If the gym was her second home, then the Lair was her third. She was always impressed by the imposing building. She remembered the first time she entered it and being intimidated by the way it was constructed. She imagined this was by design, so as to put the away teams on edge whenever they came to play an Extramural Hyperball game against the Chimeras.

Being one of the last people to reach the seats, there weren’t many places left to pick. So with a grin on her face, she sat down to one of the less popular seating neighbors: Banjo. Just like at the beach, she gave the Aussie a quick ruffle through his hair as a way to greet him before giving an excited wave to Calliope. She made a mental note to catch up with the two of them soon. It had been way too long!

Then the usual pomp and circumstance began. All were asked to rise for the national anthem, something a hardfaced Katja always refused. These countries were run by people who hated her, why should she offer even the slightest bit of respect towards them? She chuckled at Banjo’s belting out the wrong lyrics again, her expression mellowing slightly.

With the formalities behind them all those in attendance could finally focus on the real reason they were there: The Chancellor’s welcome speech. And this year it became apparent that the new Chancellor would be none other than Jim O’Neil, the old student rep of Team Blackjack. Katja loudly cheered for the man, not giving a damn about the less than enthused reception he got from the rest of the stadium. She liked O’Neil, and she liked to think that he liked her too. Especially when she’d deal with Banjo after one of his many antics meant to torment the poor man.

However, Katja’s mood noticeably changed when O’Neil introduced the two strangers on the stage. She hunched forward, sitting on the tip of her chair as she narrowed her eyes. Focussing particularly on the woman who was introduced as Torres, staring at her as if in a trance. So much so in fact, that she completely missed the Chimera’s yell that O’Neil uttered. Instead, Katja’s focus only broke when she heard the entire stadium utter a shocked gasp.

Blinking twice, Katja’s trance-like state seemed to be broken, after which it took her a moment for the words uttered earlier to register. The nullification of the credentials of so many of PRCU’s students would normally reek of Mundane cruelty to the tall blonde, but it was clear the Foundation had something to do with it. This Torres woman made it pretty clear to all in attendance with her offer of Foundation credentials to the PRCU student body. It was a naked attempt at bribery. And looking at the crowd’s mixed reaction, it seemed to hit a chord with some.

And to make matters even worse, Torres decided to make light of Hyperion’s campaign five years ago. To have this woman talk about those events in this way… Katja had to take a deep breath before she realized that she had balled her fists, her nails buried deep into her own hands. With this moment of clarity, she looked to her sides to see what the rest of her friends thought of this situation.

Blackjack’s responses ranged between outraged and fuming. None were happy with this new arrangement and they were practically insulted by the attempt to sway them by basically holding their credentials hostage. Several of her peers stormed off, enraged by what had just transpired before them. Others just sat there, either in disbelief of trying to process what had just transpired.

Katja looked over to Banjo sitting next to her. She knew he was going to focus his attention on Calliope, and knowing him he’d give in to that supporting role with 110%. But he had just lost his credentials as well and his world must’ve taken a pretty hefty hit here too. Katja put her hand on the Aussie’s shoulder, giving him a pair of gentle rubs and a reassuring smile. “You know I’m there for you guys, rite?”

Suddenly a black silhouette in the corner of Katja’s eye caught her attention. She didn’t have to guess twice who this could possibly be. After all, she was reaching a point where she could recognize that person in the dark. Katja kept looking as Amma approached Torres. They obviously knew each other, but from the looks of things they were not on friendly terms. The woman gave something to the girl covered in tattoos, before the latter walked away, crimson cracks of energy surrounding her lithe frame. 

Katja’s first instinct was to run after her, try to calm her down and assure her that she wouldn’t have to face Torres alone. That Blackjack, and she in particular, would have her back. But by the time Katja could get down to the main exit, she was gone.

Katja solemnly stood in the opening, the stream of students slowly passing her by, each face more distraught than the other. Their futures, which seemed bright only an hour ago, had gone up in smoke right before their eyes. She cast a look over her shoulder, her gaze falling on Torres and her assistant as they left the Lair through a different exit. Determination radiated from the tall girl’s eyes as she spoke, barely audible to all but her.

“We’ll come for you, Ms Torres. Very, very soon.”

As Katja turned around to make her exit she noticed a familiar shape leaning against the Lair’s walls. Katja’s temper instantly cooled at the sight of one of her friends being so distraught. She softly approached Harper, the girl whose eyes would usually observe even the tiniest details, but which were now buried in her hands, covered in tears. She didn’t know the exact reason why Harper would cry, but given all that had transpired just now, Katja figured there were enough reasons to burst out in tears.

Katja knelt in front of Harper before slowly leaning closer. “It’s okay.” She whispered softly as she gingerly put the smaller brunette in an embrace.  “Shhh, Harps, it’s okay.”

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Hidden 7 mos ago → 7 mos ago Post by Hound55

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Hound55 Create-A-Hero RPG GM, Blue Bringer of BWAHAHA!

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Hound55

Create-A-Hero RPG GM, Blue Bringer of BWAHAHA!

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in 3957 days

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It was a clear black evening as Darwin was wont to have.  With next-to-no light pollution from the smallest capital leaving the stars in the black night's sky spread wide like a celestial carpet.

Banjo heard scuffling behind him.  Deliberate.  Trying to get his attention.  Wants him to know they're there.

He turned around, only to see the young boy from his class.  A serious child.  He'd never seen a smile on his face for as long as he'd been here.  He'd shot him with hard looks numerous times through classes.  But if there was anger in those looks, Banjo hadn't picked up on it.  Which was worth mentioning, because he didn't seem to be someone without some anger very thinly below the surface.  But those was something else.  Probably whatever this was about.

Mamili Motlop.  Smart kid.  Thinks a bit different though.  Although in a place like Haileybury Rendall maybe it was Banjo who thought different.  Wouldn't be the only thing that made him different...

"You don't belong."

"Cheers for that.  Nice bloody welcome wagon."  Banjo said, turning back around to look at the stars.

"No.  I mean your story.  It's bullshit.  You're not from Townsville.  And I don't buy that that's your Dad either."

"I believe he said Cairns..."

"Whatever.  Just as much bullshit."

Banjo wondered what it was that had given them away, and instead kept his mouth shut and kept his eye on the sky.  Better just to let him have his suspicions without doing anything that might outright confirm them.

"You're too 'Townie'.  City-boy.  That bullshit you were talkin' before in class.  City liberal, overactive conscience which never actually tries to make any real difference.  They don't breed that out in the sticks and beyond.  Round the traps, they might treat the person right but they don't give a shit for you in their politics... might even be more honest."

"Maybe my Dad just wanted me to have a proper sense of our place in the history of this Big, Brown Land..."

"HA!"  Mamili erupted with a stark reaction to his response, before sitting down right next to Banjo.  "That's the biggest lie yet.  Now THAT bloke actually did grow up country his accent's more baked in than yours.  Nah.  If he knew this was Larrakia land, I'd be stunned."

Banjo took a sip from a water bottle, before confiriming his suspicions.  "He was stunned that I knew the tribal lands of the capitals."

Mamili formed his approximation of a smile for the first time since Banjo met the boy.  The corners of his mouth upturning to form a tightened wry grin, in confirmation of what he already knew.

"Well, alright then.  Truth-telling.  About bloody time."  He had a bottle of Coke in his own hand and took a sip.

"Truth-telling.  So you're sayin' we're on our own path to Treaty, eh?"  Banjo cracked a wry joke, referring to the 'Uluru Statement of the Heart'. 

Mamili let out a hollow chuckle, and just as fast the thin grin was gone.

"Well, it sure as Hell ain't gonna be their generation..."

"Oh piss off."  Mamili spat, replacing it with more Coke.

"What?  What've I done now?  I haven't even done anythin' to your school, you keep glarin' at me, givin' me shit.  What's up your arse?"  It was true.  So far.  Banjo had kept his worst inclinations under wraps for the first few days at the new school.

"'Cos you're just another Liberal bloody townie.  You're not gonna do nothin' either.  You're all about sayin' the right thing to make yourselves feel less guilty about what your ancestors did.  You don't actually want to do anything.  You just want to make a point of difference between a bunch of colonials who sliced up country for selections, hunted, killed, enslaved and stole people from their families and the white people you are now who just benefit from the generations of how it was.  You don't want anything to actually CHANGE because you profit from it.  You just want to make sure you can feel better about yourself.  At least the murdering pricks were upfront about it."

"...and I'm certain that attitude will help you win people over to your side.  Maybe you can fit it on a board come voting time."  More water.  Air sucked back into the bottle once he was done.

"And THAT'S the point, isn't it.  THAT RIGHT THERE is how you can tell you're full of shit, because it shouldn't matter if you feel bad about it.  If you were actually interested in doin' the right thing, you'd do it because it's the right thing.  Not just because it doesn't make you feel bad about things."

"Who says I don't?  I'm just sayin' you can't truly expect to win more people over to hearing you out, let alone goin' along with you, when that's how you approach things."

"Mate, please...  You've got no stakes.  You can't relate.  You lay it on thick, but that's all it is, bullshit townie liberalism that tells yourself you can relate."

Banjo sighed from the repeated verbal onslaught.

"Lemme try...  You found yourself born into a world where your country was already taken, your kind marginalised beyond any kind of reasonable hope for representation, a history of atrocities and fucked up shit happening to your people.  You're pushed away from mainstream general society, and then questions are raised about your contribution to a society you had thrust upon you, with poisons and disease sent after you, striking down the ones the people with guns didn't get.  With the justice system disproportionately targeting your kind moreso than anyone else on the planet."

Mamili turned and looked at him with one raised eyebrow.

"...and the most frutrating thing is that because you were BORN into that society, you suspect it would've been something far better, but you can't form any kind of salient argument, because all of that shit happened EVERYWHERE to all of your people, and you can't point and show that you'd have been just fine if they fucked off and left you in peace."

You're not really gonna do this, Banjo, are you?

"That's-- alright-- that's a bit closer than most.  But you still haven't experienced--"

Nah, fuck it.  You've bounced around enough schools for reasons that weren't your fault,
 what's one more where you actually were responsible?

Banjo stood up and took two steps away from the boy, and sighed.  Yup, he was gonna do it.  The pull was far lighter at night, with no sun in the sky.  Like faint pins and needles on gooseflesh, as the light of myriad stars had stretched out for countless years just for this moment.

With a sudden burst he drank deep from the stars.  A bitter cool bite to the breeze came from his direction.  His breath quickened and then halted, his body turned black.  Muscles and sinew re-knitted and his synapses flared, providing a quick hit of ecstasy.  He held it and worked to restore his breathing whilst he juiced.  A smaller than usual corona from the diminished light started to swirl around his person.  His teeth shon bright through his broadened smile in the night.  It took work to hold his breathing steady, as if it weren't a natural thing, in his current state.

He turned and faced Mamili.  Then just as fast, he stopped 'juicing' and let his body revert back to its usual appearance.

"What the bloody Hell do you call this?!"  He cried out.

Banjo looked around in case he'd missed seeing anyone, or the other boy's loud voice attracted further attention.

"Blackfella/Whitefella..?"

"..."

"You know that joke was fucked up, right mat--?"

"Yeah, no--  I heard that as I was sayin' it too, that wasn't--  I wish I had more ti-- yeah, that wasn't my best moment."

"You still didn't have to have your family see 'em coming down the coast.  White sails, white faces, white guns."

"What sails, mate?  Your family's from bloody Darwin.  Thought this was all about truth-telling.  Or are you saying your family saw 'em on the horizon and went on some epic Burke and Wills styled trek across the entire country to get away from them?"

"...  ...well could you blame 'em if they did?"
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: Haileybury Rendall School, Darwin - Past, Strigidae/Ursus Dormitory Block, P.R.C.U - Present  Welcome Home #1.056: Invasion Day
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Interaction(s): Calliope - @PatientBeanPreviously: Solid Rock

Banjo and Calliope walked back to their dormitory block together in silence.  Calliope's silence radiated aggression, and did not suggest it was willing to be trifled with.

In their wake, teammates were consoling each other, checking they were alright, and more.

He held the external door for her, and paused in his own thoughts, before moving on to his own dormitory.

He needed time to think.  It'd hit him.  But indirectly.  And was fucking with his emotions as a result.  People take a poke at him and it doesn't hit the same way.  He'd laugh and fire back.  This was different, and he needed to make sure his head was right for it.

He walked in his room and closed the door, stripping down to get in his PT gear, which he pulled from his foot locker.

He had a hundred stupid little plans to mess with the school and make their institutions look stupid in some way or another, but nothing for this.

Any way he acted out in response to this, could be interpreted as a failure in the school's ability to maximise it's student body and aptly teach or raise them for the world beyond.  Which he normally wouldn't care about, but on this occasion conflicted with his own primary desire.

To not give these fucking invading pricks what they want.

So, back to the drawing board.  Back to basics.  Raw concept.  What did he want?  What should he do?

What did he want?  Well that was simple.

He wanted to find out what they wanted, and burn it to the fucking ground and laugh in their faces whilst it turned to ash.

And find a way for Calliope to not be hurt whilst doing it.

Well, not just Calliope.  He supposed, begrudgingly admitting to himself.  Haven and Katja too.  And Rory.  And 'Raw and Lorcán.  Pallyx and Mei.  Zimmerman and Big Steve.

He s'posed the others as well.

And if they touched his pony, guts f'r garters.

Fuck.

He thought back to home.  This is the thing with invasion.  Every loss is felt.  Every loss hits big.

And the thought of running devastates.

He thought of his team.  Taking flight had probably occurred to Haven.  Not because she was cold blooded or didn't care.  It was time.  Time binds you to a place.

He was starting to feel it, and he hated it in himself.  He'd always prepped himself for the inevitable day he'd have to jump.  But now he was tied.  Tied in a dozen directions to things he couldn't deny.

There's no way in Hell 'Raw could.  She'd been attached to this place too long.  It'd be like severing a limb.

Katja had family killed and her home stolen from her.  He wondered if she saw this the same way to any degree.  She showed concern for them before, so maybe this was a bigger point of difference, or maybe it was putting on a brave face.

No.  This was different.  More subtle than what she'd endured.  Her emotions were generally kept close to the surface.  That was genuine, he told himself.  She recognizes it as bad, but it's a whole other thing.  After all, they didn't come out and run Jim O'Neil through with cold steel.

No... they'd taken him from surprise and bent him over a podium.

So how much had they known before the Assembly then?  He thought.

They were here under the auspices of an audit.  So that was already granted.  And Jim copped to the accreditation.  Then it all went to Hell in a hand basket.

So, there's your pivot point.

Come in dropping bad news, which the new 'friends', who happened to be here for other reasons, could somehow bail them out of.  'The problems you never knew you had, we have the answers!'

So simple.

That wouldn't have been the end of it though.  More would have happened behind closed doors.  There's no way Jim would have left it at that.  He'd have had words.

And there's no way they drag all of the kids back into another assembly after that one... with the Homecoming Trials already disrupted more than they like.

Which means the situation could be in the midst of negotiations.

Which just further means he can't act out without hurting the bargaining position and giving these pricks what they want.

Everything led back to the same damn thing.  A snake eating its tail.

The thought rushed back through his head.  "Should get back to Calli'

But she generally took longer to get ready than he did.  Prepared herself more, and if he was honest with himself, she was probably trying to level herself out in the bathroom.  She'd withdrawn, but this hit hard.

He left his room and opened up the fridge.  There wasn't much in there.  Alex Zimmerman's orange juice.  Big Steve's Multi-vitamin breakfast juice.  Replacement milk for the coffee machine.

He got a cup out of the cupboard, and put it on the bench, to crack open some of the milk when Zimmerman and Big Steve walked in, talking between themselves.  They saw him in the kitchen and froze.

"I-- uh-- ahh..."  Banjo froze him with a single look.

He forgot the milk and pulled the carton of orange juice out of the fridge.

"I mean... I'm sorry dude.  How was--  I mean, we didn't know."

Banjo started pouring orange juice down his throat.

"Are you--  I mean, are you okay?  Are we cool?"

He kept pouring.  Holding the carton higher at the end so they could both see the last few drops go into his mouth.

He closed up the carton and put the empty right back in the fridge in front of him.  Never taking his eyes off the pair.  He closed the refrigerator and walked past the pair and out the front door.

"I'm not mad."  He said flatly as he walked past them, out the door and got in the lift.

"I-- OK.  Good."  Offering a feeble wave, even though he was already gone.  

Zimmerman turned to Big Steve.

"Well, that could've gone worse..."

Big Steve looked down at his diminutive friend

"Well, at least he's not mad."

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Hidden 7 mos ago Post by Lord Wraith

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Lord Wraith Actually Three Otters in a Trenchcoat

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Lord Wraith

Actually Three Otters in a Trenchcoat

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Bio

“That went better than expected.”

The words hung in the air, a smug tone behind them as the pair of women exited from O’Neil’s office before walking towards the rear of the Administrative building. Maya’s face was covered in a triumphant smile but Teresa Torres wasn’t sharing the same sentiment.

“We’ve but won a battle, Maya.” Torres scolded, “There are plenty more to win before the war is over.” She motioned with her chin towards a door. Opening the door, Maya secured the empty room before placing her hand against the wall. Reaching out with her powers, she erected a sound proof barrier around the room before nodding towards Torres.

Lifting her phone to the side of her head, Torres waited for the voice on the other end to speak first.

“Speak.”

“Pacific Royal folded the minute their certifications were gone to the primary programs. We have permission to bring more of our people onto the island. I would suggest sending a pair of Arms in addition to the Foot.”

“Then everything is as I have foreseen it. Is there anything else you need?” The voice of Nakamura Yoshi asked from the otherside of the phone.

“Can you spare the Fist?” Torres asked. There was a pause on the other side of the line. The steady sounds of inhales and exhales before the click of a tongue as her answer came.

“I will make it so.”
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: The Southern Plateau - Dundas Islands, Pacific OceanWelcome Home #1.057: A Terrible Idea
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Interaction(s): NonePreviously: A Pacific Royal Welcome

The pair of Minotaurs emblazoned with the Blackjack emblem were waiting to be unloaded. Laden in the beds of the pair of trucks were tents and coolers, both essential parts of the annual excursion to the Southern Plateau. 

The automatically erecting tents the students were accustomed to didn’t require a lot of effort and even included cots within them. Some students struggled with the weight, but the tent itself did the work once they were placed and the lever pulled. The tents were the same issue as those used by H.E.L.P.’s field agents, capable of surviving anything short of a nuclear blast. They were even climate-controlled, which was probably for the best considering that Blackjack had both extremes covered between the likes of Calliope and Lorcán.

Looking out over the center field, Tad surveyed the construction site where this year’s Homecoming Trial was to be built. Generally, the Trial was only run by freshmen who needed to be placed in a House, but often the students who aided in its construction were rewarded with the first run through. Considering there were a handful of his team members whose Trials were interrupted by Hyperion, Tad was sure they’d relish the opportunity to put together the course. 

Beside Blackjack’s campsite was the one belonging to Team 78 or Firebird. A smaller team than Blackjack, they were overseen by Tad’s fiancé, Jessica Friend.

“Jess!” Tad waved to his wife-to-be, “Hey, I haven’t seen you all day!”

Greeting with a small peck on the lips, Jess smiled up at Tad.

“Oh well, I knew we both had early mornings so I wanted to get a jump on my day and you looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you on my way out.” She looked around him at the campsite that had yet to be constructed.

“Ah,” She mused knowingly, “I see Blackjack is being Blackjack again.”

“They’ll get here in their own time.” Tad replied with a smile of his own, “They always do and they’ll be bringing the party with them. I’m sure by now at least half of them have some cockeyed plot to save the school from the scary Foundation.”

“Always main character energy with that lot,” Jess laughed as she pointed to a tent situated on the midpoint between the two campsites. “I’ve gone ahead and set out our tent, you should be able to keep watch on your rabble from there.”

She turned, her hand guiding Tad’s line of sight back to the construction site.

“And Robert was looking for you earlier, wanted to start picking your brain about where your crew would be best used. Said I wasn’t as familiar with their abilities, but that they’d be a handful no matter what.”

“Way to set expectations, dear.” Tad muttered with mock hurt. “I’ll go see what Robert needs, if you happen to see any of Blackjack, could you ask them to start setting up. Maybe Banjo will be more receptive to you.”

“Shut up, Tad, yer mother was a bloody ‘amster and yer father smelt o’ elderberries.” Jess retorted, doing her best attempt at the younger student’s accident. “Honestly, I don’t know how you put up with it, I probably would have put in for a transfer by now.”

“I have you,” Tad cooed, “That’s how.”

“Shut up, Tad.” Jess laughed as Tad turned to walk towards the Trial site.

“Robert!” Tad called running up to the indicated figure. Robert was a behemoth of a man, probably one of the few on campus taller than Blackjack’s own Katja. Two small horns protruded from his forehead while pointed ears accented the lower canines that extended from his bottom jaw past his upper lip. Braided jet black hair hung down to his waist while a jagged scar stretched over one of his brilliant bright green eyes nearly down to his lips and a neatly trimmed stubble beard. Depending on the light, his dark skin often took on a greenish hue.

Impressively strong, Robert was an engineering graduate student who had been leading the Trail Construction for the last two years. It was almost humorous to see Robert in a dress shirt tightly wrapped across his barrel of a chest, the top three buttons left open to allow him some movement in the rolled sleeves. The muscles in his legs may as well have made his slacks into yoga pants as next to nothing as left to the imagination.  

“Thaddeus Finch.” Robert replied, his baritone rumbling out over the plateau. “Just the man I was looking for.” He replied with a hearty laugh and a pat on the back that nearly sent Tad face first into the dirt beneath him.

“Well you and maybe that Katja,” He added with a wink and elbow that again threatened to send Tad flying. “I don’t suppose your valkyrie is around.”

“Not yet.” Tad replied apologetically with a weak smile. “Jess said you wanted to go over a few things.”

“Yeah, you have twelve on Blackjack right?” Robert asked.

“That’s right, though after today’s big news, I’m not sure that’ll be the case. Some of them might have gone back to their dorms to pack.”

“Eh,” Robert chuckled lightly, “H.E.L.P. always comes out on top, I’m not too worried yet. It’s just politics.”

“Says the guy with an accredited degree.” Tad replied a bit too coldly. Robert raised an eyebrow, taking his hand off the almost comically small tablet before gesturing towards himself.

“It’s not like I was going to find a job outside this island, Thaddeus.”

“Uh, yeah I’ll have to concede there,” Tad replied, his voice trailing off as he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. 

“Your team, then?” 

“Right-o, yeah we have twelve. Barnes, Baxter, Cahors, de Léon, Galahad, Hisamatsu, Kruger, Mitchell, Penada, Roth, Tyler and a Banjo.”

“You have a banjo?” Robert asked.

“We have the Banjo.”

“If you insist.” Robert replied, “It’s not that remarkable of an instrument, personally, I am more of a fan of the sitar.” 

“No, the Banjo who stood up to Hyperion. He’s a student.”

“I am not familiar with this student.”

“Troublemaker, pushes the rules as far as he can, kind of a rabble-rouser and all-around pain in the ass.”

“Thaddeus,” Robert replied before placing a heavy hand on Tad’s shoulder. “You’re describing a teenager.”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Tad re-composed himself.

“Barnes has wings and can fly. Baxter has enhanced optical capabilities. Cahors, honestly I’m not sure, but her abilities are seemingly quite destructive. Her file has a lot of red in the ledger. There’s de Léon, she’s a cryokinetic while Galahad can multiply so he’s basically a one man workforce of a fabrication machine. Hisamatsu has arachnid physiology, web-spinning and the like. You’re already familiar with Kruger-”

“Not as much as I’d like to be, you should introduce us.”

“Ignoring that.” Tad responded, “Mitchell can teleport, Penada saps powers, Roth manipulates heat to a variety of effects, Tyler copies powers and Banjo can augment his physical state to become stronger.”

“Send Kruger and this Banjo to work on the foundation. I could use Barnes and Mitchell for supply runs. Get Roth on the structural, along with Cahors and send Tyler with them in case he can use his abilities to copy either of them to expedite the process. I could use Galahad to fill a couple of positions. Put Baxter, de Léon and Hisamatsu on the interior theatrics.”

“That just leaves Penada,” Tad replied. 

“Put her with the three inside. They’ll need to come up with some kind of theme.”

“When I did it back in 2015, it was themed around surviving a robot taking over the world. ‘Era of Epitome’ or something.”

“That-” Robert looked Tad dead in the eyes. “-Is terrible. Do not let them do anything like that.”

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Hidden 7 mos ago → 7 mos ago Post by Skai

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Skai Bean Queen

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Skai

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 H A V E N
H A V E N

Location: Southern Plateau  - PRCUWelcome Home #1.058: Early Bird
Interaction(s): Tad, Robert @Lord Wraith Previously: A Matter of a Pinion

Haven soared over Dundas Island, closing her eyes for a few moments to relish the feel of the wind against her skin and feathers. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with more air than she could ever need. She hadn't felt her body relax until she left the ground.

The previous anger was still there. Just stashed in a pack in the back of her closet, along with some clothes, survival gear, and what little money she had saved in the four years she'd been at PRCU. She didn't intend on leaving PRCU, but... it was better to have a go-bag ready than to pack in a rush.

She had a few minutes left of this precious feeling until she reached the meeting point on the Southern Plateau. If it weren't an obligation, Haven would have spent the day near the cliffs to clear her mind. It was a little exciting that the seniors would be able to run the trial they built. Considering she'd never done it herself, Haven saw it as a reason to show up. She refused to acknowledge why she'd missed her own Homecoming Trial, if only to keep herself from thinking about Torres comment earlier in the day.

She saw the trial site before the campsite, her eyes spotting Tad standing in front of a man she hadn't met before. She looked him over as she began her descent towards them, delighted to see another hype with such obvious physical markings. And what a physique he had. He towered over Tad, reminding her of Katja, and the thought had her itching to see how the two would interact together. She could have continued on until the campsite, but she had to know who the man was.

Haven chose to land a few feet away from the men. She tucked her wings in behind her once her sneakers touched the ground, looking their way. "Looks like I'm the first arrival." She said as she tucked her stray hairs behind her ears. She closed the space between them, adjusting her bag's strap against her shoulder as she held out a hand towards the hunk.

"Haven Barnes."

"Barnes, Wings, this matches what Thaddeus said." Robert replied extending a hand that engulfed Haven's own. "Robert Arkwright, I'm the Graduate Student in charge of organizing the build."

"Robert has opted to pair you and Aurora together as supply runners, if that works for you, Haven." Tad interjected. "You'll need to head back over to our campsite beside where Firebird is set up. Set up a tent, choose a bunkmate and then grab Aurora and head down into the construction site." He instructed.

"Yeah, that sounds great." Haven smiled at the two. "It was nice to meet you, Robert. Let me know if you need anything lifted. I can manage the aerial coverage, too."

She pointed with her thumb towards where she assumed the campsite would be set up. "Campsites this way, yeah?"

"Yeah, just back that way," Tad nodded pointing in the same direction. "Jess should be floating between the two campsites, you'll also likely see the Minotaurs with our spade on them. If you can relay the message to set up to anyone else who arrives that'd be great."

"I gotcha. See you guys later." Haven gave Tad a thumbs up before walking in the direction of the campsite. She picked up the pace, and before they knew it she was off. A graduate student, huh. She tried to imagine that he worked on the island because he loved it here so much, instead of the alternative.

The campsite was below her within a minute. She waved down to the dark haired Jessica as a way of greeting before she planted her feet on the ground by the Blackjack Minotaurs. Looking around, she could only think about her first night on the plateau years ago. It probably wouldn't be an issue for her to sleep here tonight, but... What would her other veteran Blackjack teammates think of it?

She busied herself with putting a few tents up just to get her mind off of it. There was no harm in helping the others out when the alternative was just to sit and wait. She tossed her pack into a random tent, along with the PT jacket she'd had tied around her waist. She was smart about the tent she chose. Just far enough from the treeline that she could take off in a rush... Just in case. She lined the tents in a large circle around the campfire. Her need to stay busy had her working quickly, and she was almost finished with the last by the time she heard others arriving.

Who would she pick for a bunkmate? She wasn't sure. It had to be someone brave enough to risk getting whapped by a wing in their sleep. It wasn't something she did every time she had a friend over, but there was always a chance. She didn't want them touching her wings, either, but she didn't control them when she slept. It was like they had a mind of their own at night.

She turned her head towards the arrivals just as the last tent was setting itself up. She made an attempt at a smile as if nothing had upset her earlier at all. "Grab a tent, guys. We meet up with Tad and the trial's build organizer once you're ready."

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Hidden 7 mos ago Post by Melissa

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Melissa Melly Bean the Jelly Bean

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Melissa

Melly Bean the Jelly Bean

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__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: Outside of Chimera’s Lair - Pacific Royal CampusWelcome Home #1.059: Life Preserver
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Interaction(s):  Lorcán @Lord WraithPreviously: Calm Before the Storm

As Lorcán spun around, Aurora studied him, really taking him in. His wide orange eyes, the way his brows were furrowed and forehead creased, the beads of sweat that had collected on his temples and the subtle tremor of his hand as he grasped hers. Even his discarded blazer on the grass and the buttons of his dress shirt that he had popped open to reveal the top of his tanned chest. 

The redhead was no stranger to panic attacks, so it was clear to her in that moment he was in the midst of one. As far as she knew, he’d never had one before, or at least wouldn’t be able to recognize it himself. Sure, the pair had their own secrets they kept, but more often than not they told eachother everything. She knew what he needed most in that moment was an anchor, someone to ground him back in reality. A life preserver in an endless sea of dread. So as he squeezed her hand and looked it over, checking for burns from his scorching skin, Aurora squeezed back. She kept eye contact and listened as he rattled off what was on his mind.

“I-” He started, “I don’t even know where my head is at dude, I just can’t help but feel it’s no coincidence that Amma was so spot on last night. I don’t like feelin’ trapped, that ain’t my vibe, y’know. I thought we had one more year and then we were out, free to pursue our lives.” He took a shaky breath, and Aurora’s heart broke just a little bit. In the time that she’d known him, he was always so dependable, so sturdy, which made it especially tough to see him in such a vulnerable state. “Don’t get me wrong, working for H.E.L.P. and on an Albatross would be sweet, sick even but like, if the Foundation takes the school, how much longer until the Foundation takes over H.E.L.P. entirely and wipes it out.” 

He squeezed her hand. She squeezed back before he released his grasp.

“I’m glad I didn’t hurt you, I don’t think I could have forgiven myself if I had.” He added solemnly, and Aurora shook her head. She brought her now free hand back to his arm, not hesitating to place it there. Although he was still quite warm, it seemed that he was cooling down, both physically and mentally.

“Don’t worry about that, I’m okay.” Her thumb stroked his arm soothingly, attempting to calm him further. “I know you’d never hurt me.” 

“I just hate the idea that we’re all being used as pawns in someone else’s game. I know to most people Jonas is a villain, but I knew the real dude and he was like the grandpa I never had. Neither of my ‘rents’ parents wanted anything to do with them, let alone me. Jonas always had time for me, even when, or if he had been Hyperion along the way.” 

The redhead watched the column of Lorcán’s throat bob as he swallowed. It was evident that Torres' senseless words struck a chord with him and further complicated the dilemma that he and his family had found themselves in over the past few years. Not only were they faced with the reality of Hyperion’s impact, but the Roths mourned for another reason entirely that very few understood. The role that Jonas played in their lives, as practically part of their family, could never be minimized. 

“Five years ago, everything went crazy. The worst part is, I don’t hate him for what he was trying to accomplish, I hate him for leaving us in the state we are now-” He turned away, looking back towards the stadium, no doubt recounting every detail of that ceremony over and over again. “Vulnerable.”

Lorcán sighed heavily and then returned his gaze to her own, his lips curling up into a smile. Even though Aurora knew his mind was still reeling- and it would be for a while- she breathed a little easier knowing that he was returning to himself. 

“Sometimes, I hate my abilities, dude. I feel like they’re just meant for destruction and harm.”

“No they’re not, don’t say that-” She quickly tried to interject, but he continued with what she inevitably knew was coming next.

“But your abilities just seem so… freeing. Anytime you want to be somewhere else, you can be there. You’re as free as the sea. Gone, in an instant.”  Lorcán’s tone softened, and as he reached out his hand, nimbly tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, Aurora audibly exhaled. 

It was always a point of contention, the fact that her abilities made the world effectively her oyster, but yet she always found herself asking the same question:

What good was a teleporter who didn’t want to go anywhere?

Lorcán was right, technically she could go somewhere, anywhere, without lifting a finger. With a flicker of thought, she could whisk herself to any corner of the globe and to most, especially him, it seemed freeing. But beneath the allure of endless possibilities lay her profound sense of longing for a place to call her own, a void that no amount of teleportation could fill. Her abilities gave her the keys to the kingdom, but the castle was empty. She had a car filled with gasoline but a missing ignition. A piece of paper and pen that had no ink. P.R.C.U. was all she had left and she was not going to let the rug be pulled out from underneath her once more.

“Yet you’re probably the best constant in my life. You’re always here when I need you, lady dude.”

Aurora didn’t have the heart to explain it to him, the inner turmoil she felt as a result of her past, so she stayed quiet. She knew that he might not understand and the last thing she wanted to do was to make him feel guilty for following his dreams after graduation. Seeing the world like he always had hoped. 

She couldn’t bear to clip his wings. 

But as Lorcán wrapped his arms around the redhead and pulled her in, she let all of her negative thoughts ebb away as he held her. She inhaled his comforting citrus and smoke scent, felt his warmth as it radiated off of him, and relaxed. He always had that effect on her and she felt the same way as he did - he was always there when she needed him. “Thanks for checking on me, I guess I really did just need to talk.”

She gazed up at him and smiled, “Always.” The two stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, and time seemed to stand still. Did his eyes always have those small flecks of gold in them?

“Roth!” A male voice yelled and quickly took Aurora of her momentary daze. Cass appeared from around the corner, a younger brown-haired girl in tow, and waved. “I saw you beeline out of the ceremony, I assume you’re taking the news pretty hard… glad you got to him first, Aurora,” He added with a small smile and motioned to the girl behind him, “Have you had a chance to meet my sister, Ripley yet?”

“Hey, Cass.” She greeted the blonde teen. She’d gotten to know Lorcán’s family pretty well over the years, including Cassander; they had even been in a few classes together. “No, I haven’t,” she turned to the younger girl and offered her a warm smile. “Lorcán’s told me so much about you, it’s really nice to finally put a face to a name.”

“You’r-” The girl stuttered and Aurora watched as Ripley visibly studied her from head to toe. “You’re gorgeous, Lorcán never said- OW! Cass!” She shrieked as her brother gave her a sudden jab, a non-verbal (but still clear) cue to keep quiet. What was Ripley going to say that merited such a reaction? The redhead looked to Lorcán to try and figure it out, but-

Wait… was he blushing? No, he couldn’t be… right? 

Deciding that it was just a trick of her eye or the glare from the morning sun, Aurora quickly pivoted back to Ripley. She still lacked the ability to properly accept a compliment, so she was thankful that Cass interjected and changed the subject before heading in the direction of the plateau, his sister headed towards her team and the administration building.

“I guess they have a point, dude.” Lorcán stated, and the girl agreed; they should probably start making their way to the construction site. “Do you want to ‘port us there, or shall we take the scenic route?”

She pretended to think for a moment, but had already made up her mind, “The scenic route.” 

Bending down and picking up the boy’s blazer from the ground, she folded it neatly over her arm. “I want to avoid manual labor as long as I can,” The redhead expressed with a laugh, “Besides, I’m sure Katja can handle things until we get there.” She inclined her head in the direction they needed to head in. “Let’s go, dude. We’ll stop by the dorms on our way.” 

As the pair began their walk, alone once more, Aurora couldn’t help but eavesdrop on the various conversations going on around them. Campus was abuzz with chatter surrounding the ceremony and the Foundation’s presence, and although she didn’t want to trigger another panic attack, it was hard to avoid the elephant in the room. “What do you think is going to happen?” She looked up at Lorcán, “The Foundation operates so differently, everyone knows that.”

“I’ll be honest with you, I’m scared.” The redhead revealed, looking down at her loafers as they moved along the paved pathway, “I don’t want things to change, I like them the way that they are.”

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Hidden 7 mos ago Post by webboysurf

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webboysurf Live, Laugh, Love

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webboysurf

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Mr. Roth,

I would like your help to schedule a meeting with H.E.L.P. sometime in the next week or so. I need to discuss career plans given my watchlist status and recent developments at school.

It's about time I follow my parent's lead.

- Rory Tyler '29

Rory sighed as he hit send on the email, immediately tossing it on his desk across the room afterwards. The words felt revolting to type, and he couldn't bare to look at them again. His father would have been proud, and that disgusted him. But some bells couldn't be unrung.

Rory didn't act when Hyperion first struck. There wasn't a chance in Hell he was going to sit on the sidelines this time around.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: Southern Plateau - Pacific Royal CampusWelcome Home #1.060: We Get by Just Fine
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Interaction(s): Haven - @Skai, Banjo - @Hound55, Calliope - @PatientBean Previously: Enemies

The ride out to the Southern Plateau couldn't help but feel like a march towards disaster, even to the happy-go-lucky Rory Tyler. Of course, he didn't show it, though. He had occupied a window seat, head hung out the window and seeming to enjoy the feeling of the wind in his hair. He kept looking up, admiring the way the sun's rays cut through the leaves of the trees overhanging the old dirt road. He kept his trademark smile wide, in case anyone else was looking. Underneath the mask, Rory couldn't help but feel a creeping anxiety coiling inside his chest. There was a much larger game at play around them, and there was nothing he could do yet. He had a plan to get some information... but until he could schedule his meeting, all he could do is be there for his team.

Even that, though, he would surely mess up.

Before the Minotaur had even come to a full stop, Rory had practically launched himself out the door to catch a breath of fresh air. He took a couple deep breaths, giving a wave towards the few folks of Team Firebird. Once he felt the tightness in his chest loosen up, Rory hoisted up one of the pre-fab tents onto his shoulder and carried it towards the edge of camp, a noticable distance away from the other tents. He tossed it onto the ground, wiped the sweat from his brow, and called out to Calliope and Banjo. "Yo, lovebirds... picked out a nice spot for ya. Try not to keep us up all night!" He flashed a cheeky grin, well aware of the  implications of his jab.

He wandered back to the Minotaur, grabbing his overstuffed duffel bag and removing his metal water bottle from a side pocket. His eyes drifted towards his teammates, taking in the view as they hoisted tents into various spots around the campsite. His smile felt genuine for a moment. They were still all together for now. Besides... no matter what, they would all come out on top by the end of the year.

He would make damn sure of that.

Rory's eyes, of course, lingered on a certain winged teammate as she was busy setting up most of the tents. He looked around at the gathered Blackjack team, trying to size up bunkmates. The three bros wouldn't be able to share a bunk all to themselves... and Banjo and Calli were clearly an item. Rory was used to getting picked last. So, he'd have to find his own place to sleep for the night with another one of his friends.

Rory saddled up towards Haven with his bag over his shoulder, offering the bottle of water towards her for her to take a drink. He looked towards the tent he saw her throw her bag in, and nodded towards it. He paused a moment, making sure he thought through his sentence before he said it. Last thing he needed was another misunderstanding like at the beach. "So, Barnes... you want to sleep together tonight?"

Nailed it. Casual, simple, impossible to misunderstand. Besides, Haven was just a friend. It wasn't a big deal to crash with a friend after a long day.

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