[IC] The Marchand School of Sorcery

[EchoicChamber]

Dawn had become accustomed to the various thumps and grumbles of the car by this point, but still couldn’t subdue the little start that went through her at this latest one. She wasn’t the only one- around her, the cries and curses of her fellow students sounded out, followed by a low chuckling from the driver. “Sorry about that, folks,” he said cheerfully, “Didn’t expect the bump to be that big.” From somewhere behind Dawn, she could hear a boy protest that that was what he had claimed the last time, which only prompted another chuckle. “Sorry, sorry. Just a few more minutes ‘til we’re there, though, so y’all just hold tight.”

If the movie she had put on (Watchmen, something Dawn had watched a few times in the past) was any indication, they had been in the truck for about two hours now, give or take. Before that were several bus trips that had taken about five more hours altogether, and a plane trip from Italy that had taken a day. Of course, there had been little breaks between them here and there, but it was still longer than Dawn had ever travelled before in her life. Doing her best not to disturb the computer settled in her lap, she stretched her legs out a bit in front of her, rolling the joints in their sockets in an effort to get rid of the stiffness that had settled in them. She hoped that there would be a chance for her to walk around a bit before orientation started- it would be nice to get her blood flowing again.

Luckily enough, a few minutes after the film drew to a close, and Dawn had begun to flip through her library for something else, the truck stopped- with a loud groan and a fair amount of tremors, befitting the driver’s earlier track record. Once again, several other kids shouted obscenities in response, but several had had the good sense to hang onto the seat in front of them this time so they weren’t flung face-forward again. Shaking off the impact, Dawn shut the laptop’s monitor, slid it back into its case, and rose to her feet as soon as the driver announced they had reached their destination.

Dawn wasn’t surprised when the truck sped off as soon as all of their luggage was unloaded, a bright “Welcome to Marchand!” shouted into the air as the vehicle rounded out of view. Oddly enough, she had started to like the man. Shaking her head, Dawn gathered up her suitcases, and turned to face the school- her school, now. Instead of immediately powering through the gates, however, she found herself gazing up at the building with a sort of awe.

It was...large, to say the least. It swallowed up most of the yard surrounding it, then reached to the sky when that wasn’t enough to satisfy its appetite. The building was mostly made up of some kind of cobblestone, the only other color being a smattering of green that came from the ivy creeping up its walls. A sizable oak tree stood in front of it, a fair distance away from the windows, and in front of the school itself was a pathway lined with some kind of flower bush. By all means, these were telltale signs that the place was far older than just a few measly years, but Dawn didn’t bat an eye at the apparent inconsistency. The chances of a Terramancers being excluded from the building team were very, very slim, after all.

Dawn’s first thought was that it was charming.

Her second thought was to wonder how she would manage to navigate the place.

Steeling herself, Dawn pulled her luggage along the stone, up the stairs, and into the maw of the school. Much to her surprise, the lobby appeared quite...empty, save for herself and a few of the other students that had come with her on the truck. She supposed that she shouldn’t be too surprised- after all, her ride had been one of the earlier ones- but it was still somewhat shocking given the size of the place. Taking as much of the view in as possible, she followed the rest of the students to the office to sign herself in.

The woman behind the counter said little as Dawn scribbled her name into the roster- only that she needed to report to the common room at once before handing her a few papers. Dawn began to flip through them after leaving the office, and escaping the bored stare of the receptionist. Inside the stack was a map of the school, a schedule, and a list of rules. The map was tucked under her arm for the moment, while the other two sheets were promptly folded up and slipped into her coat sleeve. She could look at them more thoroughly once she got herself properly seated.

Dawn took her time traversing the hall, taking in the sights and enjoying the quiet of the halls. For all of the driver’s road rage, he certainly got them there on time- if not earlier, if the lack of other students was any indication. Glancing about the place, she mounted the stairs, and entered the common room.

The common room was...an interesting place, to say the least. While the wallpaper was a deep, pleasant green, the floor rich cherrywood, the furniture was a bit less easy on the eyes. It clashed horribly in style and quality, a scramble of assorted items that had been haphazardly fitted around the place. Decorated animal skulls glared across the room at the newest television to hit the market, and leather chairs surrounded a tapestry of bears fighting...some sort of sky wolf. Mahogany desks, hand-sewn carpets, vending machines…and hanging above it all, a cheerful banner reading “WELCOME, STUDENTS”.

A plaque against the wall offered some measure of explanation.

“We here at Marchand give our sincere thanks
For the generous funding and donations
Provided by the families listed below.”

Blinking owlishly at the odd decor, Dawn stepped inside, gaze roaming and coming to a rest on the buffet tucked against the far wall. Closer inspection of the table revealed an assortment of foods- pancakes, meats, fresh fruit- along with a small sign encouraging students to help themselves. Breakfast, although it was late enough in the day for the meal to be more brunch than anything. Either way, the travel had admittedly made Dawn quite hungry, and she wouldn’t be turning down free food. She swiftly piled her plate and retreated to one of the tables, tucking her belongings under her seat as she did so. As Dawn ate, she took out her papers, studying them between mouthfuls.

Given the current vacancy of the place, she had plenty of time to get herself oriented with Marchand.

The pancakes were very well made.

[TheWendil]

The Marchand School of Sorcery was everything that was to be expected of an institution bearing such titles. It was large and, perhaps to some, menacing with its size and implications. With such an alluring and curious aura surrounding the grand estate, perhaps that was why the rush crowds hadn’t showed up yet. Indeed, the turnout was much smaller than what Jackie Ripren was expecting. Though perhaps that was a blessing in hindsight.

The students she did see seemed concerned and annoyed for some reason, as if something disastrous had just occurred. Maybe it had something to do with that car that was speeding away in a hurry to leave the school grounds. Whatever it may have been, most students simply ignored her to carry on with their own doings. Those that did however, quickly darted their eyes away from the mask-bearing girl.

Blinking, Jackie hoisted up her only item, that being a moderately sized suitcase, before walking up the stairs leading into the main entrance. The lobby resembled that of a typical school, Jackie directed to filing her name into a roster before having a rifle of papers stuffed in her arms. She adjusted to hold them in one hand before following the directions given to her. And soon enough, she found herself entering what was labeled to her as the common room.

The place certainly looked the part of fancy rich society, Jackie eyeing her gaze over to the animal skulls decorating the walls. She met their glares with a blank stare of her own, spending a few moments to herself observing them. When she finally entered, the scent of food hit her instantly and two things came of notice to her. The first being the large array of buffet foods assorted for students no doubt, and the second was the other girl in the room.

Looking at her, Jackie noticed her fellow student was eating by herself and seemed to be hard at work reading through the papers they had been given. That was fine; she didn’t want to disrupt her concentration and she wasn’t hungry anyway. Silently, Jackie walked over to one of the chairs surrounding the tapestry, placing her suitcase neatly on her laps. To that end, she slowly watched over the room, shifting her eyes from one corner to the next.

[VitoftheVoid]

'So it begins.'

Professor Oren Kovalenko, an angular figure with dark hair and a long blue coat, watched the numerous new students filing in, passing through the front office and signing off on forms with a sceptical eye. Well, one eye was on the throngs of their new intake, the other was on her phone where she was busy informing any staff members that were not already aware that the first large bus had pulled up and the place was beginning to fill up.

And she didn't expect a group of young mages to maintain any standard of behaviour for very long.

Especially not ones that were more often than not rich, privileged, sheltered, and had never been taught how to properly behave.

Speaking of that-

Norwegian shouting from the entranceway. Oh christ.
From where she was standing Oren could make out three figures at least a head taller than most of the people filtering around them. A woman in he late thirties with long, grey-flecked ginger hair and a crimson coat on, and a hulking man with a beard you could lose a family pet in, both hugging and saying their goodbyes to a third figure. Younger, but still with nearly a foot of height on the Professor, with a mop of red-orange hair and a voice with a strong nordic accent that was carrying over near enough everyone else's together.

Norrevinters.
No mistaking those.

With one deft movement Miss Kovalenko stepped back into the shadow of one of the hall's pillars, and melted into the darkness without a word.

Somebody else could handle Ren's spawn and the ginger storm. She'd see to making sure no-one had started killing each other in the common room.

As it was some students had started eating, or introducing themselves. Oren materialized out from behind the door, quite alarming several students who'd been milling round up there, and proceeded to check over the status of things.

Over to one side, on an otherwise yet unoccupied table, a small figure was slumped over the the surface, next to what was now the degenerated milky sludge of a bowl of cereal left uneaten beyond its time, and something that long ago ceased to be a hot drink.

Her long, rather untidy-looking red hair was spread across the table like seaweed, and she was wearing a blue sweater lined with knitted purple cat faces, the phrase 'Have a Mice Day' inset into the back and front. It was at least two sizes too big and luridly coloured enough that the student was clashing with the furnishings.

Professor K came to a halt behind the student, regarding the girl with her look of pitiless reptilian distaste before finally speaking up.

"Are we boring you already, Kingsley?"

The redhead awoke with a start, knocking her bowl astray with one hand and splattering the fortified mud across the surface.

The Professor remained perfectly stationary whilst one of her charges scrambled, blinking, to try and both stem the flow of milk from the upturned bowl, and address her at the same time.

"Oh..no! No Professor! I was just um...is it breakfast time?"
Apparently only just realising how many others had entered the room, the student known as 'Kingsley' gave a rather sheepish smile.

Kovalenko's expression however was her usual weary mask of disapproval.
"Well Kingsley that is what everyone else is doing, if you would like to try and catch up with the timetable, I think it would probably be beneficial for you. And please try and avoid wasting food in the future."

"Y-yes Professor..." the girl hastily responded, pale cheek reddening a little as the watched the aquamancer turn and walk off down the row.
"...so that's the year off to a good start..."

[EchoicChamber]

Thwack.

Making a soft, pained sound in the back of her throat, Esperanza carefully gripped the seat in front of her with one hand, the other gingerly reaching to rub at the spot where her head had collided with the window. There had been quite a few bumps and whatnot throughout the ride, but that had been the roughest yet. The other students didn’t seem too pleased by it, either- annoyed cries, and some rather creative swears Esperanza mentally saved for later, roared around her. Frowning slightly, Esp gave her temple one last tender pat, then turned her eyes back to the window.

Esp had been awake for about thirty two hours flat, according to the phone Mama had given her before she left home. She had been so strung up with nervous energy and excitement, she hardly felt the urge to sleep anyway. Her hands were constantly occupied with the new gadget under her possession (she had changed the background at least five times before settling on a funny picture of a dog she found online), or with the sheets of paper cheerfully stating her admission to Marchand, or even with little things like a piece of string she found hanging off the sleeve of her blouse. When not keeping herself busy, her eyes had been glued to the windows of whatever transportation she had been on- the truck being no exception.

After travelling for so many hours at this point, one would think she would have grown bored of the journey, but Esperanza relished it. She devoured the scenery with her eyes.

The truck eventually jolted to a stop, flinging students around left and right- luckily for Esperanza, however, her grip was enough to keep her from getting a broken nose to go along with her bruising. Jumping to her feet (and stumbling for a moment or two from the lack of blood in her legs), Esp slipped out of the vehicle and went to gather her things.

Marchand was far more grand than anything that she had seen- with the exception of the family church, of course- but Esp found herself vaguely disappointed that there was none of the peppy music playing within the school, like the movies always had. Rolling her shoulders under the weight of her backpack, Esperanza followed the line of other students to the office, and checked herself in. She hardly noticed the secretary’s idle look, more preoccupied with the sheets pushed into her hands that anything.

The school was very large.

After being ushered out by the secretary (she hadn’t realized she had been standing there for long until she felt the hands on her shoulders), Esp found herself heading to the common room, unsure of where else to go. She saw no point in wandering- especially when none of the other students were- and, besides, now that some of the nervousness had worn off, she had realized just how hungry she was.

The first thing she noticed upon entering was the number of people there. Gathered around tables, picking at their food, chatting. Esp stood in the doorway for a moment, hesitating, then braced herself and went to get breakfast- pancakes, since a few of the other kids seemed to be getting them as well.

Despite how early they had arrived, the tables were swiftly filling up- some students sitting by themselves, others already bounding together in groups of twos and threes. It meant that Esperanza would most likely have to sit with someone. Her eyes roved along the tables, eventually settling on a red-headed girl hastily trying to clean up a mess on her table. Intrigued, Esp walked over, carefully balancing her tray on one hand as she grabbed a bundle of napkins.

“Here. Let me help you. There is a lot of…” She hesitated, looking at the sludge. “Things on the table.” Carefully, she mopped some of the sodden cereal up, repeatedly glancing up at the girl to see her reaction.

“My name is Esperanza. Ciervo. Esperanza Ciervo. By the way, it is good to meet you.” Her voice was heavily accented, somewhat awkward in intonation, but the eagerness in it was clear.

@VitoftheVoid

[Prosaic]

---

☆ Nolan Santora ☆

Previously: Santora Residence.
Currently: Marchand School - Common Room.

Interactions

@EchoicChamber

---

"Nolan, you understand why this is a good idea, right? You know what happened with Ni-"

His dad had been telling him the same thing all week, it was like hearing a broken record. It just kept skipping. He was getting tired of it, tired of hearing about how his sisters had turned out just fine. He was tired of hearing about how his inability to learn one thing was some imminent sign of how he'd repeat history some fucking how. He wasn't some old, dead, necromancer.

He despised that his dad was so superstitious, that he believed that this was some kind of sign. It was aggravating, it was assumptive. He was proud of his abilities, it was hard not to be proud of his abilities. He wasn't so proud that he was willing to commit mass slaughter and conspire with negative entities. He wasn't so proud that he thought he was any better than anyone.

It was stupid how insistent his father had become over this. His mother hadn't even tried to talk him out of it, seeming to feel like it was better to be safe than sorry. They were all treating this like he was some sort of monster, as if something terrible was growing inside of him and they needed to kill it before it got too large. Christ, they were acting insane.

"Believe me, dad," he said brightly, his voice was mock-friendly. "I know. I was just pondering yesterday about possibly starting my cult. I was thinking we could primarily focus on slaughtering kittens."

Safe to say that his dad didn't look amused, he seemed to be eyeing the old amulet at Nolan's throat. "Nolan, you know who that amulet belonged to."

He snorted abruptly in response, pulling the shining red thing from his shirt. It winked in the light, the blood red stone seeming to catch the reflection of the room in all of it's many facets. It was old, the gold having gotten brassy over the years but the letter carved behind the stone was hard to miss by the wearer.

Of course he knew that he wore Niklaus's amulet, but his grandmother had given it to him before she'd died. She'd handed it to him with trembling hands when he'd only been ten, it meant more to him than history. It was the only thing that he had left of her. She hadn't thought he was wrong for not understanding everything, she'd been proud of him.

"You only tell me, I'd say, every other day." he sighed, "Can I go now or would you like to give me the history lesson again? You know how much I absolutely love that lesson."

Eventually, he'd let him go but not before instilling another life lesson upon him about how he needed to learn to respect authority. There had been a bit of an implied or else. His dad usually wasn't authorative enough about his behavior, so it was odd. He'd shrugged it off, trying to play it cool before he left the house but he couldn't help wondering just what his dad thought would become of him if he continued down this path.

Ominous, absolutely ominous. He couldn't help but being irritated throughout the drive to the school. The bumping and the cursing had grated on his nerves. It wasn't normal for him to be so edgy but this wasn't normal. If he was a better student, he might have done a bit of studying or something equally productive. He wasn't a good student though and he'd spent his free time badly.

He watched out the window the entire time, imagining himself leaping into traffic to escape the bus. It hadn't been entertaining but it had kept his thoughts at bay. If he didn't over think this then it couldn't affect him. He just had to treat this like any other school, get to know his classmates and try to relate with them. There would certainly be other necromancers, he couldn't imagine meeting them.

The Santora's had a bad history, so they tended to avoid other necromancers. It would be different to openly meet them. It would also be nerve-wracking, he hoped that everything his patents had warned him of had just been stories. He didn't want to meet another necromancer and have them know about Niklaus. He didn't want to hear anything similar to the sentiments of his father.

When he'd finally gotten to the school, he had tried to keep his posture and expression as open as possible. He wanted to be seen as accepting and friendly. He walked with a confident stride, following his fellow students to the common room. He liked it almost immediately, it was so odd but the oddness was endearing somehow.

He liked the animal skulls, having cleaned and preserved quite a few skulls himself. He could appreciate the artistry of it. The green walls were comforting, they reminded him of his bedroom back home. The menagerie of colors and conflicting design just seemed as diverse as he figured that the student body would be.

He could spot two girls that seemed to have taken positions by themselves. It was odd to him that they wouldn't want to socialize a bit more but he sort of understood the awkwardness. They were all strangers to each other, he had never really been such a stranger before. He decided to do as the dark-haired girl had done and just get something to eat. Worrying about interaction wasn't worth it.

He piled his plate with just about anything he could fit on it. He carefully balanced it in one hand and his papers in the other. The last thing he needed to do was drench those in maple syrup. The boy chose a spot near to the dark-haired girl, not too close and not too far, she seemed absorbed in reading over her papers. He wasn't going to break her out of her concentration.

He poked his fork at his plate, taking a hesistant bite of the pancakes. They were good, which surprised him somehow. He didn't know what he'd been expecting but it hadn't been fine cuisine. He didn't have the same drive that this young lady seemed to, he didn't really want to read over his papers.

Only a few minutes in and he was already trying to slack off. New record. How fun it was going to be when he got lost because he hadn't looked at the map.

[chocomog333]

The travel time from his home to the academy had give Caius plenty of time to review the pamphlets the school had sent his family. He had studied the school's layout and his schedule meticulously to be prepared for his arrival. However, even with all of his preparation, he was awed by the sheer magnitude of the school when he finally stepped foot onto the campus. He stopped for a moment, but then collected himself. There would be plenty of time to bask in the immensity of the school and explore it thoroughly later. For now, he needed to make haste to the common room. He quickly signed into the roster and was pleased the attendant seemed more interest in her other business than trying to probe into his. After collecting his paperwork, he made his way to the common room, ignoring all of the other students along the way. Upon arrival into the common room, he scouted one of the few remaining empty tables in the back and placed his belongings there, staking his claim as he went to gather breakfast. He ignored the other students as he grabbed some pancakes and sausage, quickly making his way back to his seat.

Seeing that it was still early, he began to open up his perception to the others around him. Some seemed to be loners like him, others seemed to be more social. As was expected, there were also a few troublemakers in the crowd. He sighed at such wasted potential. He was intrigued by the girl with the gasmask. She could be a wildcard. He tried to see if anybody was wearing anything that would hint at their primary magic, but most people just seemed to dress like regular teenagers.

Realizing that his interest in the human population was waning, Caius began to examine the room itself. Caius was a firm believer in purpose. People usually made choices for a reason. Usually being the operative word. The common rooms décor implied the aesthetics of the decorated deviated from such common sense. Everything just felt off. Caius wasn't fond of the disorganized and frankly frightening adornments. He hoped whoever was responsible for this wasn't going to be one of his professors. Caius decided to put it out of his mind for now. He returned to his food and paperwork, desperately hoping to be left alone until the opening ceremonies ended.

[Gelatinous Cube]

Mortar fire. Pyromancy. Blood. Smoke. Screaming.
It was like he was really back there. Charging through trenches, cutting down cultists and baring his teeth in directionless rage. He was like a rabid wolverine, all snarls and claws. Of course, the cocktail of uppers and pyschotics he'd shot up into his bloodstream at the first sign of battle were mostly to blame for his undeniably warlike disposition. His eyes were orbs of pure, pitch black, the blood in his teeth clashed with the mud on his uniform. His hair was shaved into a messy, tribal mohawk and his beard was scruffy and pointed. His body was the scrawny, wired musculature of a serial shooter.
Even his comrades were afraid of him when he was like this. So different from the quiet, withdrawn man they knew in the quiet hours. So far removed from the cyclone of violence they now witnessed.
Suddenly, a massive explosion threw him several feet backwards, heat and concussive pressure hit him like the fist of an enraged god squarely in his centre of mass.
He looked up at the clouded sky with shell-shocked eyes, seeing a million rockets bearing down on him. Only they weren't rockets at all. They were needles. Full of sloshing, murky liquid. He smiled and laughed as they blotted out the sky and sent him to a realm of painless black...

...then he was awake. Soft light beamed through the slitted blinds of his room and a ceiling fan whirled lazily above him. There was no shock, no jolt of awakening. Raymond had been experiencing that dream for years now. It was at the point where he would be perturbed if he didn't.
He turned his head and looked at the digital clock beside his bed.
He was late.
"Ah, fuck it all!" he exclaimed as he sat up and rubbed his eyes and face. No time to shave, then. He quickly got dressed and freshened up as fast as time would allow and was hurriedly making his way toward the common room. He was met at once with the delectable aroma of pancakes, syrup and strong black coffee.
Scanning the room he could see a large number of students had already taken their place. He recognized none of them, despite knowing that a great deal of them came from rich stock. There would be plenty of time to get to know them over the year, however.
He turned his attention to someone he did recognize, and his heart momentarily sank.
He caught Oren Kovalenko's gaze and shot her a half-hearted sheepish look of apology for his tardiness. Not that it would do him any good, she didn't like him at all.
Though he didn't think she really like anyone, save for Professor Maeve. Ray was endlessly grateful her second half was not currently present. He could handle them one at a time, but there was no defense against the two of them. Not even for the Professor of Defense!

Ray helped himself to a plate of pancakes and a mug of strong, black coffee.
How on earth did I get into this mess? He thought to himself wistfully, as he went over his lesson plans and class attendance rolls for the umpteenth time. He had it all memorized, he was really just going through the motions in order to avoid sitting by himself and staring creepily at a bunch of kids.

[TheWendil]

As expected of the first day, more and more people were beginning to show up. The younger ones could be deduced as students while the older ones were obviously teachers. Some went out of their ways to meet and greet people; no doubt having known them from similar magical families. Others did what Jackie did, choosing to observe from their perched spots of solitude.

Truth be told, Jackie saw no one of eye-catching interest for her. Her gaze scanned deeply over the gas-mask flickering from one individual or group to the next. As she did so, her eyes always lingered for roughly five seconds or more before departing to a new target. Eventually she settled her eyes on a boy with glasses, catching him staring at her.

When the boy turned away back to his food and paperwork, Jackie’s gaze continued to follow. He seemed approachable enough; and if she were to be honest, she was bored at the moment. Well, seeing as this was a new school, she might as well try to make some friends along the way. Gripping her suitcase by her side, Jackie left her spot beneath the tapestry before walking up to Caius. “……” Silent as ever, she moved to take a seat beside him.

[ScoundrelQueen]

Professor Maeve Brigid Byrne had a way of moving that compelled people to get out of the way; there was a vague sense that she would walk through or over anything in her path.

She prowled through the crowd of registrants with a stiff back a deep frown, her emerald eyes taking on a predatory narrowness as she surveyed the incoming students Young, eager bodies housing sheltered histories moved like a herded flock through the echoing lobby. Her glare roved over bags and bodies alike, evidently on the looking for something. A few individuals warranted a second glance, but nobody stuck out enough to deserve being properly tailed.

Due to the risk of meeting other adults, Kovalenko had talked her into tying her unruly red hair back and wearing a pantsuit that did little to flatter her broad shoulders: The intended “look” of the outfit was unclear, however, as Byrne resembled a hosed-down orange alleycat far more than she did a qualified teaching professional. Though, truth be told, there was little that anyone could have done about that fact.

Standing in the midst of the bustling crowd, she found herself quite confused as to how she had been persuaded into the role of a professor: She did not like people, least of all teenagers, and even less than least, teens of the entitled variety.

And speaking of the devils.

The sound of thundering Norrevinters filled the hall, and Byrne’s scowl lines somehow managed to trough even deeper into her face. She turned on the balls of her feet to head out and let someone else take care of that godforsaken situation, and had very nearly made it out of the room when she caught sight of something far worse out of the corner of her eye:

It was striding through the front door in a pair of Italian leather shoes that likely cost more than her car, wearing a smile so self-assured she wanted to smack it clean off of his face.

A Sterling.

Larke, presumably, if her roster was correct.

The boy was dressed in a pair of pressed khaki trousers and a pale blue button-down shirt that was rolled just below his elbows. His jaw and face were cut as dashingly as any in his lineage, and the signature charm of his pedigree shone through as he managed to persuade the receptionist to crack her first smile all day. He smirked and said something. She laughed. He took the papers with an easy shrug of one shoulder, waved a lazy salute with the hand still holding his forms, and turned back to mingle with the rest of the crowd.

He held a black sport coat folded over one arm, but carried no bags with him. Those were handled, apparently, by the stout, black-haired man following behind him in a chauffeur’s uniform. Larke passed off the forms to the man with a firm handshake and another convincingly genuine smile, and then they parted: One to the common room, the other to the large luggage drop.

Byrne shook her head. Lazy brat.

Her bitter glowering was cut short, however, as she caught sight of the collision preparing to take place in the reception area: If the Norrevinters stayed their course, they would be seeing far more of Sterling than was good for the building’s structural integrity.

It was with a quiet groan that Maeve forced her best public relations smile (which was, by any stretch of flattery, not very good,) and strode over to the ginger clan with purpose. She circled around so that she stood in the opposite direction of Sterling, and stopped about a foot out from the three giants.

“Hilda? Hilda Norrevinter?” Maeve exclaimed, her jovial tone touched by just enough of an Irish accent to color her inflection, “By God, it’s been an age and a day! And is this the Kora we’ve all heard so much about?” She extended a hand to the teen girl, being sure to keep the sound of internal screaming out of her throat. “Grown a helluva lot since the last picture I saw, hasn’t she?”

So, so much internal screaming. In fact, she was certain that her right shoulder had started to ache.
@VitoftheVoid

---

Larke, for his part, had simply decided to make the most of the whole sticky situation. As he came up the stairs, he split from Ives, his driver, and took toward the common area while Ives handled the task of depositing his bag. The room number was probably on the paper, anyhow. And Larke was not about to sacrifice possibly the last ten minutes of hired help he would experience for the rest of the school year.

His sharp green eyes roved over the scene with casual interest, not betraying any of the growing dread balling up in his chest. He did not need to look at the donation placard on the wall to know that his family name would be at the top: The fine leather couches and brushed-nickel lighting fixtures were all in excellent taste, as was the blown glass chandelier up above. The flat-screen television was a nice touch.

The bearskin rug and antlered armchairs were less so. Had there not been such a glorious breakfast spread, he was quite sure the room would still reek of the dirty little island they had been shipped from.

He shrugged off the thought, restored his smile, and adjusted his rolled sleeves before making for the laid-out breakfast spread. Larke picked up a few pieces of fruit, some bacon, and a glass of orange juice while subtly taking inventory of his classmates. His mother had insisted he look over photo albums and refresh himself on family trees, and all but a few checked off: Ripren was recognizable by her unusual sense of style; then Velius, seeming to be engrossed in... whatever he was doing; a Santora... Nolan, Larke was pretty sure; and the poor little Kingsley bastard, whom he had never seen in person, was sitting next to a Ciervo. Admittedly, he only recalled the last one by her missing finger.

And then, finally, someone more personally familiar: "Well, if it isn't Miss Dawn Memoli!" He carried his little plate over to her, setting his drink down but not taking an immediate seat. He extended a hand to shake. "It's good to see you again... Been since, what? Berlin? Mind if I sit?"

@echoicchamber

---

The thump-bump of the bus solicited a surprised squeak from Mitch, and a far less identifiable noise (though it probably fell somewhere between an owl’s screech and crane’s whoop) from the covered cage occupying the seat beside her.

Aside from occasionally poking a piece of fruit jerky it under the cage cover, or adjusting the volume on her MP3 player, the mousy-haired young woman had stayed nearly stock-still for the entire trip. Her eyes were obscured by dark glasses to protect them from the changing light of the road, but her gaze remained forward.

A collapsible white cane sat folded in her lap.

It had been a rather long and more than slightly stressful journey for both Mitch and her caged companion: Between boarding planes and dealing with incompetent airport staff, navigating less than accommodating bus services, and portaling her friend in and out of existence to clear TSA, it had been emotionally and physically exhausting. The constant hissing-clicks from her largest bit of luggage had kept anyone from immediately sitting near her.

So, when the bus lurched to a final stop and the sound of her peers beginning to disembark sounded around her, Mitch was more than elated.

She turned herself further into the seat as the others began grabbing their things from the overhead bins and jostling on their way out, opting to instead change out her sunglasses for a much (much, much) thicker pair of readers, withdraw her tablet, and connect to the school’s Wi-Fi while the others shoved in a hurry to reach the same destination in a relatively similar amount of time.

When the bus was empty, she stood, tucked her readers and tablet into her pocket, unfolded her cane, slung her backpack over her shoulders, and then lifted the cage with her free hand. Arrangements had been made to have her things delivered to her room.

“Thank you,” she said in the general direction of the driver before stepping off, her voice soft and her smile softer. She swept her cane along the ground with the deftness of someone who had done this most of her life as she headed up the crunchy gravel drive to the school entrance. The cacophony of voices booming against increasingly echoing corridors was not hard to follow, though she kept a reasonable distance back from the thick of the crowd. The ceiling sounded high.

She tapped her way over to one wall, following along until she hit what seemed to be a table. Or just, you know. More lost.

“I’m looking for registration?” she announced, piping up over some of the noise, but in no clear direction as the cage gave another disgruntled chirp.

Someone touched her arm, and she startled a good bit more than she had at any of the bus’s bumps.

“Are you Leila Ingram?” said a woman’s voice, dry and disinterested.

Mitch nodded. “Yeah,”she replied, dipping her shoulder away from the unsolicited touch, but turning to face the woman who had spoken. “And it’s Just Mitch.”

“Alright, Miss Ingram,” said the woman, taking Mitch’s arm and guiding her toward what Mitch assumed was the desk. The girl resisted the urge to scowl at the way she was being dragged around through unknown space faster than she could sweep, but made no effort to correct the woman as she kept talking. “I’ve got some forms you need to sign. And an extra in regard to your exception to our familiar policy.”

Mitch stared ahead, and set the cage down at her feet. “Okay.”

“I need you to sign this.”

Mitch blinked, waiting a full five seconds to see if she would be grabbed without permission once again, before patting around for the pen, finding the paper, and signing randomly on each of them without paying any heed.

It would not have been hard to take out her readers, but this woman seemed too likely think she was too incapable for that. Not worth her energy. “Are we done? Can I let out my guide?”

The woman did not reply.

Mitch nodded, assuming the woman had probably also nodded. And if not, she was being kind of a bitch by not responding. Too tired to care much either way, Mitch then proceeded to crouch in front of the desk and open the door to the cage,

Like a bug crawling out from under a cup, her companion burst out, taking first to a wobbly flight that made a nearby student scream, and then settling down upon Mitch’s shoulders with all six of its legs, frond-antennae twitching as its head swiveled and its four shiny eyes darted about to take in the surroundings.

The coldness of the thing’s carapace-covered belly rested against Mitch’s body, and she could feel a low rattle-hiss-purr vibrate against her back.

“Hi Apple,” she crooned, and a genuine, wide smile spread across her face. She reached to scratch “Apple’s” purple furred back, and then turned to kiss his cheek before he scuttled back down to her feet.

She had taken the initiative to put him in his work harness before boarding her plane in London, in case anyone didn’t know that he was a “Service Animal! Do not pet!”

“Oh, hi. Hi little muffin. I know. I know,” Mitch carried on, folding up the crate cage and tucking it into her pack even as several other students passed by with noises of alarm or surprise. “Hi, fluff bucket. C’mon, now.”

She straightened, cane and cage both stashed away, and took hold of the handle on Apple’s back. “Follow,” she ordered, and the pair moved into step behind the crowd making its way toward something that smelled like pancakes. Apple opened his beaky little mouth, and a smaller, less beaky mouth popped out to open and close, tasting the air. He shot a tongue out of the smaller mouth, and licked the stairs to be sure they tasted alright.

With the help of audio cues and her trusted sidekick, Mitch managed to navigate the buffet line and acquire a plate full of something edible, and then proceeded back toward the tables and couches with a bit of trepidation. People were not her forte- At least not people her own age or those who she didn't already know. Regardless, her options were limited. There was no sitting alone.

She stepped toward an area that sounded (maybe?) less crowded, and offered a warm smile in what seemed like the right direction. “Is this seat open?” she asked, though her voice was much softer than she had intended.

@prosaic

[Prosaic]

---

☆ Nolan Santora ☆

Marchand School - Common Room.

Interactions

@ScoundrelQueen

---

As expected of the first day, kids kept piling into the common room. He took a mental inventory of them as they entered, there was something a little memorable about all of them. Though he found his gaze following a boy with sandy brown hair. He walked confidently and addressed the dark haired girl with ease. It was easy to see that they must have known each other.

It wasn't unlike him to eavesdrop and he caught her last name. Memoli. The name carried power with it, he only knew a glimpse of her bloodline's history but he knew it was dark. They were hired killers at one point, he'd even heard the mafia rumors. His family tended to gossip, he had gotten used to hearing only the most scandalous snippets about the other families.

That was interesting though, to know that he was so close to a Memoli. He was sure to tuck that information away. The more that he knew about his fellow students, the better he could understand them. He didn't know what family that the boy belonged to but if he had to guess, he'd say that he was one of the very influential ones. He was obviously someone who came from a lot of money.

That wasn't surprising, given that most of the families were very well off. There were just certain ones that obviously had more and he figured that the boy must have come from one of those families. He would have to wait around and see if he caught ear of his last name, if he could do anything, he could identify a last name. He may have never met these people but it was impossible not to have heard of them in some way or another.

He speared a strawberry with his fork, carefully taking a bite out of it. He nearly choked when a soft, feminine voice broke his concentration. He snapped his eyes over to the offending sound, but not before forcefully swallowing a half chewed chunk of strawberry. The fruit stung a bit as it slid down his throat, he coughed quickly into his hand to try to alleviate the sensation.

He hadn't expected anyone to come up to him, but now that someone had, it was best to be polite and welcoming. He didn't want to scare her off. He wished he'd grabbed a drink while he'd been up, he had to clear his throat before he could respond. "Yeah, you're welcome to join me. I'm Nolan, and you are?"

She had short brown hair that framed a pleasant face, and she had dark brown eyes. He might not have even noticed that her vision was impaired if it weren't for the purple guide animal that she kept close to her. He wasn't naturally very observant but it was nearly impossible not to notice her very odd familiar. It was some sort of insect, purple in color, with a pair of fuzzy feelers that reminded him of a moth.

It had shiny green eyes, four of them. It would have made him uncomfortable to be so near such a large insect-like creature but he was too interested to get the creepy-crawlys. A familiar. She had her own familiar. His family had been obsessed with necromancy and had almost no interest in side abilities, he'd always wanted to learn more about familiar conjuration. This only heightened that want.

He'd strategically only told her his first name, just in case she might be another necromancer. It was paranoia at it's finest, his dad had really gotten into his head about this. It was hard not to question what everyone thought of their family name, it was hard not to be just a little bit uncomfortable.

He guessed that there were a few kids here that shared his fear in different ways. The histories of these families could tend to get a little gory, nobody was free of speculation. He had been raised to avoid speculation, the Santora's were natural recluses. They didn't attend parties or mingle with the other families, they kept to themselves and they tried not to be noticed.

In a way, he realized, he had been trying to do that too. He hadn't actively been trying to draw any attention to himself. He'd been trying to seem normal, like someone that you might pass on the street and not spare a second glance. He couldn't believe that he was falling into his family's weird habits.

"And your guide, of course!" he added jovially, "What's their name?"

---

♤ Isaiah Parrish ♤

Marchand School - Common Room.

---

The room was bigger than he'd expected for some reason, though he hadn't had many expectations. He could see many interesting faces, some that already seemed engaged in conversation. He could even see a girl that was sporting a gas mask, he didn't know if that was some sort of fashion statement or if she just actively worried about toxic gasses permeating the air. He wondered briefly what family that she was from.

He walked carefully, his gaze scanning over the walls as he took in the strange decor. The skulls were a little bit of an odd touch, the colors were kind of atrocious and the layout was very weird. He wanted to know what the interior designer had been thinking when they'd set the place out, perhaps they'd been on hard drugs. Maybe they were just eccentric. He didn't think he'd ever really know the truth. Perhaps he'd ask a professor about it someday. That might prove interesting.

He walked carefully to an open seat, ignoring the breakfast options. The smell was tantalizing but he didn't really want to stop and eat any of it. He didn't know what everything was made of and accidently setting off an allergic reaction would be a horrible first impression. He tried not to picture it. Sometimes he was sure that his body was a ticking time bomb and that it was constantly ready to explode.

Grimacing, the dark haired boy twisted a chain around one of his fingers. He was so uncomfortable, he was surrounded in strangers and he didn't know what to say or do. He was hoping to better his aquamancy here, to maybe meet some of the other families but he couldn't help feeling so awkward. There was so many of them.

He was glad to be here, despite his discomfort. If was different and it was exciting. He just had to get through his first day jitters, he didn't take to new environments very easily. It often made him feel like a fish out of water when there were so many strangers around him. They were so varied, he wanted to know more about them but he was also terrified by that prospect.

[Etranger]

Carlos

A lot of people Carlos knew hated school. They hated the work, they hated the environment, and they would rather be at home chilling out any day of the week. For Carlos, however, school represented the perfect escape from home life. At least at school he didn't have two different sets of relatives nattering on about cultural issues that were only relevant several centuries ago. With this school it was even better, because it was so far from society that all the nettlesome aunts, uncles and grandparents would have to travel so much further to get in his ear. Today was truly the day that he could forget about other people's expectations and demands and think about what he wanted out of the place, and boy howdy did have a whole list of things he wanted out of this institution. He was going to come out the other side of this place one damn good mage or die trying.

Arriving at Marchand, Carlos was mildly pleased by the grandeur of the building, though he knew that more important than anything was the quality of its teachers. If they were a pack of corrupt morons, then Carlos wouldn't have a lot of use for this place. Thankfully, the fact that it looked somewhat impressive suggested that it wasn't some rundown sorry excuse for an educational institution, even if it didn't guarantee it. The counter lady seemed disinterested in her job, but he guessed that everyone got a little sick of their routines at some point. As long as the instructors still had passion in them, he would be fine. Once he entered the common room like the rest, Carlos began to wonder if somebody at this place had too much passion. It seemed like a weird avant-garde experiment in design. The plaque gave Carlos an idea as to why it was like this. If he knew obnoxious "important" families, and he certainly did, they probably all insisted on leaving their mark on this room. It was probably all a great big peeing contest to see who could leave the biggest impact on it, resulting in the mess they saw before them.

Not wanting to waste time and energy puzzling over the decor any longer, Carlos plonked himself down in the common room and started eating. With luck, perhaps whatever initiation this place had planned for them would start soon, and then they could move on to the lessons. Preferably lessons about how to make a mark on this world rather than some technical lecture.

[Akayaofthemoon]

The bus rocked and bumped along down the path, the students all around her whining to the bus driver about the injustice this was causing their frail forms with an insincere apology as a reply to such complaints but for Serenity, it was pure joy. She didn't understand how they could not be taking advantage of the fun it was to be on a bumpy road to the middle of nowhere. As it was, she was leaning back in her seat with one foot resting flat on the back of the seat in front of her to keep herself stable as she waited patiently for the next bump. It might look strange to some of the others, a girl with bubblegum pink hair, slumped over in the back seat while her bright green eyes stared intently at her palm which held a single red gummy bear. It was when they hit another harsh bump that the gummy bear went flying up and Rini quickly moved, catching the red gummy in her mouth before giving an air pump with a soft 'yes' leaving her lips as she enjoyed her snack. It had been lucky she even packed them as it had been way too long since she last ate with no stops in-between any of the different forms of transportation. It wasn't that she was complaining but she wasn't sure what the plan. The school had a plan, right? She didn't have long to question this though as the bus came to a lurching stop which somewhere lucky enough to not eat the seat in front of them while others had practically broken their noses or fell from the seat.

Rini waited for the group to file out before hopping up, stretching out her legs for a second and head off of the bus. Everything was unloaded from the bus by the time she stepped off and her foot had barely hit the cobblestone path before the bus was tearing out of there like a bat out of hell. She raised an eyebrow at the weird exit but shrugged it off before she went to collect her duffel bag and suitcase. She was now left, standing alone as she looked up at the school that would be her home for the year. Marchand seemed so new at first glance but if you looked into the fine details, you could tell that it had more likely been renovated instead which actually gave it more charm. The designers had chosen wisely in what was still preserved and what was newer. A soft smile made its way to her face as she took her first step down the cobblestone path, letting the wheel of her suitcase clatter as it rolled along. It was easy to follow the rest of the crowd and even though she wasn't sure where all of this would end up leading, not that she really care if she got lost for awhile. It just provided a new opportunity to check the place before any official tour or classes. It was lucky for her though that the crowd just lead her on to the registration with an attendant that seemed done with this just and looked like she needed a change in life. Rini enthusiastically tried to cheer her up with some gummy bears which was met with more of a frown and a glare which made her scribble down her name and back away slowly to nope out of that awkward situation. How was she to know that people didn't like gummy bears? That wasn't normal, right? Well, if anything that part was over with and she now at least had a map that explained how to navigate this massive academy.

It seemed from the direction the students were heading after registering was going to this 'common room' area. It seemed logical as they would be able to meet more of their fellow students before any orientation that might be held. She skipped happily around people that were gathered together in the hallways, reacquainting with friends and what not. Rini was hoping she found a few people she recognized but it was always nice to make new friends if at all possible. She walked into the common room and was instantly in love with the way nothing seemed to match and yet it seemed completely right like it all flowed well together. She did a slow twirl, taking in all the decor before looking at the other students, trying to find a familiar face when her eyes landed on a dark-haired beauty that was being addressed by some well to do guy. It was obvious that he was from a richer family than most with the attire and the way he seemed to carry himself but he did have well-defined jaw and handsome features, eyes a sharper green then her own that were more defined by the sandy brown hair he possessed but she tended to avoid that type if at all possible. They tended to be the ones who believed rumors but she wouldn't judge just yet. Actions proved a person worth in her eyes, no matter how much you had. Rini turned her attention from the stranger and onto the person she really wanted to see, Dawn Memoli. It hadn't been too long since she had stayed to visit her family but it was always nice to see her again. A bright smile lit up her face as she snuck up behind Dawn, looking to the sandy blond for a second and holding up her finger to her mouth before giving a wink before hugging her from behind a split second before covering Dawn's eyes. "Guess who?! If you guess wrong, I get a bite of your pancakes."

[VitoftheVoid]

Helena had been spending the last couple of minutes struggling to mop up the amorphous puddle of cereal with two napkins, fearing any greater movement to fetch more would disturb the small lake and send it over the rug that she suspected cost quite a considerable amount of money. She had sort of hoped someone might offer some assistance, but as she was too embarrassed to actually ask, she'd resigned herself to this frustrating exercise.

That was until Esperanza intervened. Even though it might well have been just out of a wish to find an open seat, Helena was incredibly grateful, and gave a sheepish grin as she soaked the milk up with the new supply of napkins. Someone had had sufficient concern to help her out, and was sufficiently friendly to offer greeting.

"Thank you so much... I wasn't sure how I was going to.. Oh! I'm Helena. Helena Kingsley. My friends call me Hel."

Or rather they would, if she had friends aside from her younger brother, members of a Labyrinth fan forum, and stuffed toy rabbit she occasionally relayed her problems to.
@EchoicChamber

---

Hilda Norrevinter, the woman stood with the scandinavian group, turned from her niece in order to catch sight of Professor Byrne, and returned with a smile that probably could be considered convincing.
"Maeve, you look well!
Kora, this is Maeve Byrne, she was a ...colleague of mine and of your father's, during the war."

The pause in the statement was apparently lost on the tall, ginger-haired teenager, who extended her hand to shake Maeve's in a way that had probably sprained some wrists in the past. Being as she had a set of headphones hung round her neck that were still issuing the quite background-noise of someone scream-growling in norwegian it was probably not totally her own fault.
"You teach combat right? I can't wait. "

With the bags sat at her feet was a large leather scabbard, a hilt and crossguard of a large, roughly-hewn sword visible. There was also a decorated bear skull, a bag of runes, and a small wood box filled with aesir idols carved out of volcanic rock. Kora was apparently well-prepared.@ScoundrelQueen

---

Oren paced around the room beside the door like a puma in a duster, occasionally checking her phone for a look at the time.
The arrival of Ray Matheos warranted a nod from the woman, but also the look of disapproving contempt that people tended to gain when Oren knew they;d fallen down in something.

She wasn't going to berate another staff member in front of the new intake. If they didn't present a united front to begin, the brats would take any opportunity to capitalize on that. However the look alone seemed like it could probably petrify small mammals, so that was possibly enough.

[chocomog333]

Caius looked up in time to see the girl with the gas mask walk over and sit down at his table. He stared awkwardly for a moment, then looked back at his food. He thought to himself I wonder why she came over here? And it seems odd she didn't even introduce herself. He quietly fidgeted with his food for a few more moments. However, his thoughts began to nag him. Isn't this why I was sent here? To learn to communicate with people? I mean, yeah, she's intimidating, but if nothing else, I can maybe pry some information out of her if the need to defend myself ever arises. Mustering up all of the courage he had, he looked up at Jackie. He gulped, then sighed. "Uhhh..... hi. M...my name is Caius. Are you a new student here? W...what's your name?" Internally, he was upset with his introduction. Smooth. Real smooth. I guess I still have a long way to go.

[EchoicChamber]

(The following Madison/Malek post was a collaboration between myself and @Trinais. C: )

"This is not how you do this thing. This is how you do thing and invite trouble. I can't even read half of it, but what I can read? It does nothing to serve the purpose!"

Malek grimaced as he looked at the very official-looking student handbook, his fingers dark with oil stains from the garage as he pointed to the Rule Four in the charter of student conduct and contraband. The stains from his fingers lingered, soaking into the pages just below, obscuring a section on the keeping of familiars and pets on premises- another fight to have, for another time.

"You want weapons training because of the war, but you are limiting what is allowed. 'No enchanted heirloom weapons' it says here. That is invitation to break the rule, and very easy to do. 'Is enchanted but not an heirloom, teacher! Is just fancy looking and enchanted with runic powers! Daddy found for me after fell off truck.' There is no way to prove otherwise and if I say głupie gadanie to their faces and confiscate, you have complaint from student family and a week of headaches until they force to return the weapon. It must all be allowed, or none of it. You make these dividing lines then children will find a way to break them for fun- then, for danger."

“Well, I certainly understand your concerns, Mr. Stanislaw.” The Professor of Pyromancy’s voice was soft and sweet, betraying none of his true gender as he followed the jab of Malek’s finger. “I wouldn’t be entirely surprised if someone attempted to find a loophole one way or another, either. But rest assured that the weapons check will be mandatory for a reason.” Madison nodded a bit, idly fixing his shirt as he spoke. He had attempted to dress as professionally as possible so as to make a good first impression on the students- a pale yellow blouse, a skirt that he had gotten pressed just that morning, and a pair of modest heels.

A warm smile pulled at Madison’s lips as he added, “Besides, I have full faith in Ms. Byrne that no stray enchantments will get past her. She’s a very no-nonsense woman when it comes to things like that. And if a student makes a complaint, you can always tell them that the rule was put into place by the Council themselves. We are just here to enforce it.”

Madison decided not to mention the fact that several of the professors, including himself, had given their input on the rule list when it was being run through by the voting committee.

"As you like," Marek said, nodding lightly. His eyes shifted to the desk, allowing Madison to adjust his clothes in peace while settling the matter- for the moment.

"It is my duty to keep these young people safe- not just from the outside world, but also from themselves. Is why you hired me. Is why I took the job. But I will caution you that as badly as you think these children will break your rules, they have terrible capability to break your expectations. My mother took a Chevrolet and turned it into an armored car with no magic at all. And on that note, there is the matter of these 'vacations' to the town. There is no place for vacations at a school like this one. Study first, fun second. The more I have to go and grease palms with policja, the more likely trouble is to follow us back here. Both magical and mundane. The leave policy should be changed to lockdown."

There was one other important matter that Marek wanted to discuss, but it took the appearance of Parael, his owl familiar, flapping into the trees outside of Madison's office window. He winced visibly while, in its talons, a rabbit struggled in its grasp before it engaged in that endless "circle of life" nonsense the children laughed about.

"Finally, the library. You know my opinion. Volume Three of Sebastien's Summoning Grimoire. I want it, a gallon of petrol, and a bottle of vodka. That book should not be."

A laugh broke free of Madison’s chest. “I wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest. I was quite the troublemaker myself at their age, you know.” The taste of liquor and cherry came flooding back with the memories, alongside something far more bitter. He shook himself out of his little reverie, clearing his throat. “You may be right about that, Mr. Stanislaw. The field trips can very well be...well. Rather dangerous, to say the least. But keep in mind that the children are currently unaware of their reasons for being here. Holding them on complete lockdown would raise suspicion, which could frighten them.”

Madison folded his hands neatly upon the polished cherrywood of his desk. “Polished” because he had taken pains to coat the whole thing in a thick layer of fireproof paint. The ink on his wrist stood out clearly against his skin. “There’s also the fact that the children might need to purchase things for themselves from time to time, like clothes and such that they might not trust us to order for the-”

His attention was stolen by the sight of Parael fluttering outside the window, prey in grasp. He watched for a moment before carefully drawing the blinds, smiling apologetically. “You’ll have to excuse me if I’d prefer not to see that.” Madison cleared his throat. “I’ll look into making arrangements for you to have that book destroyed, though. I agree wholeheartedly- something like that shouldn’t be in the reach of the students.”

With deft movements, Madison snatched a sticky note from his desk, scribbled onto it, then tucked it safely into his pocket. “Did you have any other concerns you would like to address, Mr. Stanislaw?”

"Trust goes many ways. I will of course do what is necessary to protect the students and, if necessary, bail them out. But I reserve the right to make their free periods... unpleasant. You would not believe how many children are afraid of getting oil on their hands. And how badly some equipment we purchased needs repairing."

The closure of the blinds came at a very opportune moment. Marek did not enjoy seeing his familiar even on his best days. The creature was of another dimension and had no need of food or drink. The fact that it hunted prey spoke to either an innate predatory instinct, or a desire to inflict pain on weaker forms of life. Neither of which boded well.

"I appreciate you taking this warning of mine to heart, at least. The students treat familiars as pets. And some are, depending on their planes of origin. But too many aren't. A cute smile and bright plumage deceives the innocent." As Madison signaled that they were done with this line of conversation, he took a moment to grin and collect his jacket and the worn student handbook, standing, briefly offering his stained hand before realizing his mistake and retracting it. "My only other concern is for yourself. Do you think you are prepared to shepherd a hundred students with cosmic powers into a brighter future?"

“Well, I’m sure that punishment will become a necessity in the future, so I don’t see anything wrong with the students picking up new skills during it.” Madison smiled. “As long as no one plans to run the students through a death trap or anything of the sort, I’ll do my best not to interfere with that sort of thing.”

Already, Madison was aware that he would likely be mentally applauding some of the more clever students for their ingenuity, even when used to weasel around the rules. A bit of a bad trait to have in a teacher, yes, but a trait of his nonetheless. It was almost like Marek was reading his mind with his last question- would he be fully prepared?

Madison cleared his throat. “That’s also quite true. It wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary for a student to summon a predator over a prey, given the odds- although I do think that the rule was put in place for a few reasons.The first of which is that some members of the Council believe that it could allow the students to, ah, form a closer bond with their familiar. Allow them to work better as partners, instead of just ‘servant and master’.” He took a quick glance at his monitor before continuing.

“There also happens to be a student on campus who, well. Depends greatly on her familiar to help her navigate.” He turned the monitor towards Marek, allowing him to see the profile of one of their young students. “Leila Ingram. She happens to be legally blind, and her familiar serves as a ‘seeing eye dog’ of sorts. Albeit with a bit less ‘dog’ than usual, of course.” Madison laughed a little before turning the monitor back and rising to his feet. A sort of soberness fell upon him as he considered again the question, his eyes wandering briefly to the ceiling with a sigh.

“I certainly hope that I’ve prepared myself enough for this...although to be perfectly honest with you, I’m afraid that I’m not wholly confident about it, either. It’s my first time teaching, after all.” He paused, although anything else he might have added was swiftly cut short by the buzz of his pocket. Eyes widening, Madison fumbled for his phone, scanned over the message, then shoved it back into place.

“It, ah, seems as if our students have arrived.” An almost shy smile spread across his face, the sort of stiffness expected of a professor slipping from his shoulders for a moment. “I do truly hope that they’ll be fond of me.”

"The only thing students can sense better than fear is lies. Be who you are and they will at least respect you. And they may even listen to you." Marek made for the door, the formality of saying 'goodbye and good luck' either lost or wasted on him. "Naucz ich z miłością. Lub bić ich, dopóki się ciebie nie boją." He grinned, peaking his face through the crack of the door. "'Teach with love. Or beat them with a stick until they learn.' Both work! Ask my mother!"

It was a somewhat unconventional tip, yes, but the smile it brought to Madison’s face was completely and utterly genuine. “Thank you, Mr. Stanislaw. I’ll make sure to take that advice to heart.” The former over the latter, at the very least. He gave Marek a cheerful wave as he departed, before sighing a little and straightening his shoulders. Madison’s hands once again flit over his hair, his clothes, his neck as he left his office, making sure that everything was perfect.

First day. All he had to do was act like a responsible adult, and everything else would fall into place.

Putting on a self-assured smile, he strode through the halls, eagerness washing his nerves away.

---

Slowly but surely, Dawn’s fellow students began to filter in. She found herself quietly observing them from behind her plate and papers as they entered, taking in the people that she would very likely find herself working alongside at one point or another. A pale haired young man who seemed content to sit by himself. A redhead in a colorful sweater, who had been dozing in the common room- apparently long before Dawn had gotten there, herself, if the bowl in front of her was of any indication. A girl whose heavy tattoos marked her as a Ciervo. A Santora. A…

“Larke Sterling.” Dawn smiled affably as she rose, taking the offered hand in her own cold grasp. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. Berlin, um, sounds about right.” She sat back down, gesturing over to the seat across from hers. “I don’t mind at all, actually. How have you been?”

At the sudden embrace and blinding from behind, she stiffened, although the sound of the culprit’s voice made the tension seep out of her just as quickly. “Serenity!” Dawn’s smile returned in full force, and she made to try and lift the other’s hands away from her face. “I, ah, didn’t know you were going here, too. I would say that it’s nice to see you, but, um. Hands?”

It had taken a very short amount of time for someone- some people- that she had known to show up and recognize her. All things considered, it wasn’t too surprising. Her family’s roots dug deep, its reputation deeper. It would have been far more surprising for her to have remained completely and entirely anonymous, known by none but herself. Still, Dawn hadn’t expected to run into people she knew herself so soon.

Still attempting to nudge Rini’s hands away from her face, Dawn nodded in Larke’s general direction. “Serenity, this is Larke. Larke, Serenity. I’m, um, not sure if you two have met?”

She chose not to give their last names, wordlessly offering them the opportunity to decide whether to do so themselves. Names could give away all who you were, in some aspects. She herself knew that quite well.

@ScoundrelQueen@Akayaofthemoon

---

“Helena? Helena.” The girl had said that her friends called her Hel, but given that she and Esperanza were not quite friends yet, the necromancer refrained from calling her that just yet. Perhaps someday, but not now. She smiled brightly at Hel, then continued her work in clearing up the spill.

“You do not need to thank me, Helena. I am happy to help you clean up.” By this point, some of the milk had soaked into the gauze around her arms, causing it to droop and expose more of the ink beneath. Esperanza made a half hearted attempt to dry it before giving up and ripping the bandages away and into the garbage. Tattoos and fresh scabs wound up her skin like ivy.

Expecting Hel to notice, Esperanza looked over at the girl, running long fingers across the mutilated flesh. “Do not be worried about the cuts,” she said, hastily, returning to the table with fresh napkins. “My mother taught me how to use Blood Magic. I know some, but I am hoping to learn more here.” She beamed a little, patting away at a particularly sludgy mound. “What classes will you be having, Helena?”

@VitoftheVoid

---

Percival R. Pelacour was not one to chew the scenery. He paid little attention to the swirl of greens and browns and reds outside the window, nor was he particularly bothered by the occasional bumps and grumbles as the car his family arranged for him- and what a nice car it was!- passed over the occasional rough patch that came up in the path. No. He was preoccupied with far more important matters. Copper head bowed over his phone, Percival fiddled with the various tabs and sites charts he had open, pausing once or twice to shake his head or give a low curse as something or other malfunctioned. He had been working on the charts for a few hours by now (because someone was too damn lazy to give him a hand with the arrangements), but had been able to move onto the finishing details by the time his ride had dropped by to pick him up.

Grinning broadly to himself, he swiped his finger across the screen, giving the last touches with a flourish- only a moment before the driver announced that they had arrived. Perfect.

“Thanks, Marty.” The driver’s actual name was actually a mess of syllables and pronunciations that Percival struggled to get out at once, so he decided to give the closest shortest approximation of the name possible. Which just happened to be Marty. A good name. Wholesome. Just like how he assumed Marty was, even if the guy hadn’t spoken more than five words the entire journey. In appreciation, Percival produced a few crisp bills from his pockets, handed it over to Marty, and cheerfully entered the school with his things in tow.

The woman at front had just about as much bedside manner as Marty, or so the Pelacour son soon discovered. Percival thought that they would make a great couple, bonding over their shared “my job is a living hell” sort of vibe. The secretary, on the other hand, didn’t take much time in musings- instead pushing a stack of papers at him, telling that his luggage would be taken to his room, and instructing him to find the common room before ushering him out.

It was a short walk to get to where he was going, and as luck would have it, it seemed that the assembly hadn’t started yet. Even more luckily, Percival caught sight of one of his fellow Council kids right out of the gate- the ever-polished, “why don’t you and me get to know each other better over dinner”, Larke Sterling. Percy shot the guy a grin and a very, very noticeable wave as soon as he was sure Larke was looking in his general direction- a grin and wave that grew even more noticeable upon catching sight of his company. There was a Memoli with him, but his focus was more on the pink-haired chick lurking behind her. Serenity D’Amour. Not a Council kid, but still someone Perc knew well enough that she was practically an old pal at this point. He sauntered up to the table, loosely buttoned jacket waving around like a cape, then tapped both her and Larke on the shoulders. “Miss me?” He grinned broadly. “How about we all catch up in a bit? Since, y’know. Busy breakfast.” With that, he straightened up, then went off to pile his own plate high with cinnamon rolls and bacon. As much as he was eager to pull them aside (for varying reasons), it was a bit too crowded for his tastes. Plus, he still needed to eat.

Instead of hanging all by his lonesome, Percival sidled his way up to a guy who looked just about ready to hightail it out of there. Those types usually tended to make for some good conversation. Perc plopped down into the seat beside his- not elbow to elbow or anything, but close enough to talk-, took a bite of a bun, swallowed, then spoke up.

“Gotta hand it to the decorators, here. Their taste is just phenomenal. Amirite?” He gave one of his signature shit-eating grins, kicking his feet up onto the table in front of him. “The bear-wolves really accentuate the high class TVs and all that.” Another bite. Percival took his time in chewing, giving the guy ample time to give his opinion. Or tell him to fuck off. Either or, Percival was used to both sorts of responses by now.

@Prosaic@ScoundrelQueen@Akayaofthemoon

[ScoundrelQueen]

Mitch's gut unclenched a little when someone responded: Male, warm, had been eating a few seconds before speaking, and named Nolan. A mental "check" went off next to "don't accidentally address the empty air in front of other students." She hoped she had not frightened him- The cough had taken her off guard. Apple, as far as she could feel, was still attached to his harness, and likely not stealing food. Another mental "check."

“Thanks, Nolan. It's nice to meet you,” she said, giving him a grateful, closed-lip smile. She leaned in an inch or so toward the table, enough to feel the edge of it brush against her hip, and set the plate down before reaching a hand out to the side to find her own seat. Whatever it was felt leathery. “And I'm Mitch. Well...” She sat and folded her hands in her lap, fiddling with a loose string on the side of her tan skort. “Properly Leila, but really just Mitch. Leila Ingram, but my family's not really very magick-y and whathaveyou, and I've never been much for, um... Well, yes. But just Mitch, really.”

As if sensing his master's impending death via awkward trail-offs, Apple gave a soft chitter from where he sat beside her feet. His fronds piqued forward to peruse the table, and the sluggish arm of his inner mouth plopped itself up next to Mitch's plate. “And this is Apple! He likes to be pet, but only when his vest is off.” Prodding about the plate with a fork, she located a piece of cantaloupe and slid it toward the edge of the table.

Like a harpoon, Apple's pharyngeal jaws shot forward through the fruit, and yanked it back into his beak with a sharp snap.

Mitch unfolded her napkin and placed it across her lap.

"So... What do you do? With your magic and the like, I mean.”

@Prosaic

---

Before Larke could slide into his seat, a third addition to the conversation was placing a finger to her lips and sliding up behind Dawn. The bright hue of her hair was certainly unique among the gathered students, but Larke was more interested in... Other features. She had a delicate face and soft, lovely curves that showed all the more as she bent to cover Dawn's eyes, all leading down to legs that just kept on going.

Maybe this place wasn't so bad.

He took it all in within about two seconds, quick to move his gaze to the table as he set his plate down. Dawn seemed to know her, which made Larke all the more curious as to how he had managed to miss crossing paths with the striking young woman. Serenity, Dawn said- Lovely name, lovely girl. Fitting.

"Larke Sterling, as Dawn said," Larke said with a warm smile, pulling out another chair beside Dawn's before offering his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Serenity."

Before he could further the conversation, one Percival Pelacour was bounding across the room in the most Percival Pelacour of ways. "Hey, Percy!" he greeted, reciprocating the tap with a friendly clap on the back. "Yeah, man. Go get some food- I'll catch you around!"

Returning his attention back to present company, he furrowed his brow a bit toward Serenity. "It's crazy, that we know so many of the same people, but not each other. Do you kind my asking where you're from?"

@echoicchamber @Akayaofthemoon

---

"You look well," Hilda said. The self-righteous, Scandanavian cunt.

Maeve shook hands with Kora, giving an encouraging nod as she did so. "I do teach combat," she replied, "and if your grip has anything to say, I suspect you'll be a strong melee opponent. But I will be needing you to come by my office and register all of your weapons with me before the day is out." She looked toward Hilda and her partner, with an apologetic (but not at all sorry) shrug. "Just policy."

She gave Hilda a final clap on the arm; a normally friendly gesture that would indicate absolutely no thinly-veiled animosity, and nodded to Kora. "If it's all quite well, we may as well walk you up to the assembly, Miss Kora. Lovely to see you again, Hilda." It was lovely, really, in the same way that cleaning the shower drain of a girls' communal bathroom was lovely: A long affair of pulling up things you had almost forgotten existed, and then remembered in one nauseating sweep.

She stepped back so that Kora could hug and gather her things, and then proceeded to lead her up the stairs. As soon as the elder vikings weren't looking, the smile dropped and Maeve was back to fiddling with her shirt cuffs in an effort to restore circulation to her hands. She said nothing as they ascended the steps to the common room.

There was, naturally, some concern as to Kora's reaction when she found Sterling up there, as well, but Maeve sincerely hoped the girl would have more restraint than her father.

Hope, however, was not the same as confidence.

@VitoftheVoid

[Avanhelsing]

---

Nathan Negromante

Locations: The Negromante Manor, Common Room at Marchand

---

The Family House

Nathan Cornelius Negromante had always loved the natural world and everything that came with it. He loved the feeling of seeing something living considering his magics involved death in all its forms. Most people expected the necromancer to be a grim and dark kind of person. They expected him to see the living world as some sort of abomination or that he needed to worship the goddess of death or something. They expected Nate to be wearing eyeliner and enough white make-up, so he would look like a demented mime walking around with corpses behind him. Everyone yet everyone had views on who he was.

People had so many different imaged of who or what Nathan Negromante was supposed to be. The general stereotype was that his family were baby killing cannibals. That they would break into villages with their armies of ghosts and zombies dragging the peasants away for their foul and unholy magics. According to rumors, the Negromantes would use these innocent peasants and add them to the ranks of their hellish crusades. That might have been the truth once upon a time, but they had changed a long time ago. The cheerful cannibal rumor had started when children had started to go missing in the village where the Negromante's lived near. Since it was easier to blame the local necromancers rather than investigate, they were believed to be the ones killing the children. Nate's ancestor had discovered that it was, in fact, a local blood mage. The Mage in question had gone mental believing that the blood of infants was all he could use for his powers. The Blood Mage had died but the cheerful rumor towards the Negromante Family lived on. They had been one of the Council families for close to half a century, but they still were seen as the magical equivalent of the Adams Family. They were most certainly creepy and most certainly kooky. No matter what they did, it was difficult for them to remove their stigma about being so creepy.

Then there was Nate. If anyone had sterotypes around them, then it was Nathan Negromante. To most people, Nathan was bizarre for a family of bizarre Mages. Most of his family were masters when it came to controlling ghosts and spirits. His Uncle used to be able to control an army of ghosts during the War before he died from a Cultist ambush. Nate had been named after him, but he had not gotten his Uncle's skill with ghosts. His family usually could see and command ghosts by the time that they were six years old. Nate couldn't see them until he was at least ten. However useless as his skill at using ghosts was, Nate was a great physical necromancer. That was not a big deal when your family used ghosts more than corpses. So, Nate was desperate to come to this school, so he could be like his family.

Nate was the third son and most people saw him as the Spare Heir. He knew that the gossips all talked about the bizarre Negromante who couldn't even talk to ghosts without feeling exhausted. He couldn't use his family's main ability without looking like he was about to blow chunks. His family was known for having strange habits involving the heir to the council seat. It usually was chosen from the male relatives of the current head. That meant Nate and his two brothers were the options for being heir. That thought led him back to the utterly cheerful letter in his lap. His grandfather had given it to his drive Jean-Baptiste so that Nate could get it when he got close to Marchand. The letter was written with the old man's curt handwriting and Nate could almost hear him talking in his ears as he read the Happy Letter from Home.

𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓼

Nate almost felt like crying from how warm and nice the letter was. For his family, this was positively cheerful. Nate knew that there was a chance that he could someday be the heir but he didn't want to be. There were all kinds of pressures involved with that and Nate didn't want or need that in his life. The family motto of Non Ducor, Duco (I am not Led, I lead.) was how Nate was supposed to live by. He never was supposed to be a follower but lead at whatever cost. Nate sighed as he got to the school.

"

Merci, Jean-Baptiste. I hope to do this..." Nate says as he got out of the family Mercedes with his suit cases. Nate was not the type to demand help and he could carry his supplies and his clothing. Nate was not the type to travel with fifteen bags filled with clothing. All he needed was his organ jars and his books to truly be happy. Nate wandered through the school until he found his dorm room. Since he had no idea who he was rooming with so he just left his suitcases in the room before he wandered back into the hallway.

As he walked, he could feel Fred manifesting next to him. The ghost had a nasty habit of showing up exactly when Nate didn't want or need him there. "You..... Cannnn.... Not... fail.... my.... mistress.... The ghost whispered into his ears sounding like leaves being pushed by the breeze. Nate glared behind his shoulder as he walked into the room. To anyone other than a Necromancer, it would appear that Nate was talking to himself. "Fred. I will not fail Mother. I am working on my incorporeal magics..." Nate said to the empty space behind his shoulder. It was then he noticed that he was not alone in the room. Everyone must have heard him babbling like a madman. Still he managed to to catch himself by smiling at the group present.

He only recognized a few of the people from the Council "Let's all Pretend that We Can Stand Each other long enough to for dinner" parties. Grandfather had always told him to make friends with the right kind of person. Nate had seen Larke "I expect you to be friends with him" Sterling and Percy "Another Council Family I expect you to befriend" Pelacour at parties where he had been forced to go to. So there might have been hope for him. Nate grabbed a bagel and as he walked past the group, a cold wind seemed to follow him. Fred was furious and the cold was his way of showing it.

Nate smiled at the group at the table. He recognized a few of them people but the two girls there were new to him. He smiled at the group while taking a seat near one end of the group. " Hey, Percy. Hey, Larke. Good to see I'm not the only Council kid here Guessing you both got the "Weight of Your Family Name" Speech? " Nate said figuring that they had been told the exact same thing that he had. Nate looked over at the other people he didn't recognize and gave them his best smile. " Oh... I don't believe we've met. I'm Nate. " Nate said trying for once to be confident and maybe for once have actual friends who were dead. That would make this school all the much better. He was expecting them all to get out the pitchforks and run him away. Most people didn't like talking to a guy who radiated cold like Nate did. He wanted for once to be liked for something other than he can summon the dead.

@ScoundrelQueen@EchoicChamber@Akayaofthemoon

[VitoftheVoid]

Helena, until then rather distracted with cleaning, paused for a moment to regard her new acquaintance's arm. She looked for a moment in surprise, before abruptly realizing the potential rudeness there. She then quickly reached for her bag and withdrew a short length of blue adhesive bandage.
"Here! Take some of this. I don't really need it right now." she explained.
"I'm a defensive primary...I guess. I'm not all that good at it honestly. And I guess I'm down for blood magic as well. Not sure I'm going to be so great at that really...I'm not very brave about the having to cut yourself bit."
Hopefully that didn't come across as insulting. Small talk wasn't really something Helena had a huge amount of experience in and it would be a great shame to alienate the only person who really wanted to talk to her.
@EchoicChamber

---

Having said their goodbyes to their protege, perhaps dragging it out a little more than needed, Hilda and Erik turned and began to walk away. One might, as a casual observer, interpret the expression on the face of Hilda, as being a normal reaction of letting your family member go for the first time. The truth was rather more messy.

The bearded man placed a huge hand on her arm.

"She'll be fine kjære, we've taught her well."

"I don't feel comfortable about this Erik. Leaving her with them. You know what they did."

There was a grim silence between them, something long unsaid, for a number of steps, before he spoke again.

"The aesir will watch over her Hilda, this is something she must do on her own."
For a moment he paused, fancying he might see the glimmer of tears in the eyes of his wife, a woman who he'd seen face down an enraged Svalbard bear without a flinch, but he decided respectfully not to mention it as they made their departure.

---

(Had this post pre-agreed with @ScoundrelQueen)
Kora was not burdened with the same kind of reservations as her elders. She strolled upstairs, scabbard across her back, bag across shoulder, and huge ancient skull tucked under one arm, with full intention of making a good first impression. She was going to be taking over the council seat in a few years time. This gave her a great opportunity to start inspiring respect in the new generation of bloodlines, and winning over older witches and wizards. She was from an inherently powerful family, and had been receiving tuition in the arts of combat and fire magic since she was old enough to toddle. She was going to be the best of the best.

They stepped over the threshhold of the common room.

Large numbers of students, milling about talking. Nothing of great concern.

Until.

Her eyes had set upon a rather familiar face. Or, at least very familiar features.

Like a wolf that had just spotted a deer, Kora dropped her bag and padded forwards, watching closely to make sure she was correct in her first assumption.

She was.

It was one of them.

A Sterling.

There was only one way to react to this situation.

Only one way.

With a battle-scream of "TYYYYYR!" the whole six and a half foot of Kora cleared the length of the commonroom in moments, shoving aside students and furniture alike until she collided full-force with the standing form of Larke Sterling. She threw him down onto the table before them, dug her knee between his shoulderblades.
"You have a lot of nerve coming here Sterling!"

[Prosaic]

---

☆ Nolan Santora ☆

Marchand School - Common Room.

Interactions

@ScoundrelQueen

---

The girl had an air of awkwardness around her but he found it charming somehow, maybe it was because he had been hoping kind of desperately that someone would join him. Not even his startled near-choking experience could ruin this for him. He observed her carefully as she took her place beside him, feeling the world with her hands and listening with her ears. He couldn't help but feeling like she observing him just the same, in her own way.

Leila Ingram, Mitch Ingram. The nickname had a noticeable difference, he obviously wondered where it had come from. Nonetheless, he would call her by it, he didn't make a habit of spurning people's preferred names. He found that people tended to like him better when he just called them what they asked to be called. "Can I ask how you got your nickname, Mitch?"

From what he could tell of her name, she wasn't a necromancer. That was fine by him, he was a lot more comfortable with just about any other mage. Not that he expected them not to know a Santora, the rarity of the Santora name was the only reason that anyone recognized his family but it was easy to feel judged with other necromancers. Other necromancers were a slightly frightening prospect that he was going to have to face here but not now.

He could feel the tension leave him, comfortable in the presence of Mitch and Apple. This dynamic duo was nothing to worry about, in fact, they were pretty nice. He hoped that he'd get to pet Apple some day but he definitely wasn't going to do it while he was on the job. He'd been scolded as a child before about distracting guide dogs and this was kind of like a guide dog.

A guide dragon-bug creature.

"I'm a necromancer," he answered, "A Santora specifically, I came here in an attempt to finally learn corporeal necromancy. I've been somewhat hopeless at learning it."

He gave an awkward sort of half-laugh, "What about you? What do you do?"

---

♤ Isaiah Parrish ♤

Marchand School - Common Room.

Interactions

@EchoicChamber

---

Unsurprisingly, he had been content to be on his own. It gave him time to think about how he was going to handle all of these new surroundings. He had began to crack into his papers, licking his finger as he leafed through them carefully. He needed to review the map, he had always been hopeless with direction. If he got lost here, well, he'd probably be mortified.

Amongst many of the things that he just would not do, asking for help was near the top of that list. No, he'd need to memorize this on his own. He would have plenty of time to do that, they didn't seem to be leaving the common room any time soon. If he looked the map over long enough, he could commit it to memory. He carefully traced his finger along the paper, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

He wasn't too concerned with his surrounding company, preferring to let them work out they're socializing on their own. He could recognize a few, though he couldn't say if he'd ever spoken with them or not. This was more of a personal choice, he didn't click with people very easily. Often times, he just didn't speak to people at all if he could help it.

As interesting as these people were, he was more concerned with getting himself from point A to point B. That wasn't to say that he didn't want to know them at all, just that he wasn't going to concern himself with that task. The most important thing was to figure out his aquamancy, maybe win some favor with his parents. They had sent him here after all.

He had just about seared the map into his memory when someone settled beside him. He looked up in confusion, flashing a glance over to the other boy. The boy addressed him with confidence, and with a smile that reminded Isaiah very aptly of the phrase "Cat who ate the canary". He had a very open posture, inviting him to make a comment of his choice.

He instead took in the sight of him, wasting a moment or two to take in his face. The boy was around the same height as him, which he wasn't quite used to. He had copper colored hair that made him think of metallic strips or new pennies. He was handsome, though it might have been his confidence that raised his appeal. He was dressed in bright colors, they should have been off-putting and yet, they weren't, they seemed to fit him somehow.

He was certainly a stark contrast to Isaiah's own black on black apparel. He couldn't help but finding him interesting, interest was powerful enough to make him want to respond. It wasn't like he could just tune him out anyway, not only would that be rude but it wouldn't accomplish the whole "meeting others" thing. That's what he wanted to do, right?

So, he offered him a smile, if that odd quirk of his mouth could be considered a smile. "I was going to try to find something I liked about it," he answered honestly. "I think that I like animal themed things the best. Perhaps because they seem to belong the least out of everything."

He drew his hand in a sweeping gesture around the room as if to enunciate his point. The place was kind of a miraculous mess but the antlers and animal skulls were just odd. Though he guessed that it was all sort of odd in its way, he definitely thought the animal stuff was the oddest. He'd grown up in a house that had been adorned in paintings of the ocean and had seashells for decor, but this was really throwing him off.

"I'm no stranger to bad design choices, my parents were a little uh. . . Eccentric? This is very overboard though." a bared-tooth grimace followed that statement, he had a chipped canine that showed in the process. "I'm Isaiah Parrish, an aquamancer, though I'm sure you know that. Everyone sort of knows everyone here."

He was very monotonous by nature, his voice flat and dry. It didn't sound excited or anything really. It made it slightly hard to gauge how he was feeling, it might have been easier if he was expressive but he didn't seem to have that going for him either. "What can I call you? Might I also ask, are the cinnamon rolls any good? I'm trying to be careful, I have more allergies than you or I can count."

[TheWendil]

The only response Jackie gave the boy was a slow blink of her eyes. Indeed, she stared at him quietly, not a word spoken and as if she was peering into his soul. It didn’t last forever of course, but no doubt it felt like it, Jackie finally stirring at his question. Caius; so that was his name. To his first question, she simply nodded to affirm her position her. It was the second question that was going to be difficult to answer…

“…..” Thankfully she was spared such an interaction when a death knell rang in the air. No doubt it would startle the thoughts and actions of those previously in conversation. Jackie turned her masked face to see a girl forcing her way through the crowds of students towards some preordained target. Given her reaction to the boy she wanted, throwing him to the table and pinning him down, it could almost be mistaken for…something else.

Jackie looked about, wondering if any student was going to stop the two of them from fighting. Or at the very least, a teacher would get involved? That was kind of their job….not that Jackie minded all too much. Seeing them go at it was entertaining enough, so much so that she opened her suitcase to fish for a paper and pen, placing them on the table.

For now she would ignore Caius, though he was free to glance over and see what she was doing. The word, “Angry Arms” and “Rough House” were written on opposite ends of the sheet before they were soon connected by a straight line. To what purpose and value any of this had, who could say. It probably only had meaning to Jackie herself. Whatever that was.