[IC] The Marchand Academy 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 traveled 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, she thought, were exceptional.

[Prosaic]

Santora Residence - Earlier

They had been all too eager to get rid of him. He remembered the day the letter came in and he remembered thinking that his parents wouldn't possibly send him off to some unknown school in the middle of absolutely nowhere. He'd been wrong. His dad had brightened at the prospect, perhaps envisioning a future where a professional actually managed to teach his son corporeal necromancy. Maybe Nolan couldn't blame him, maybe he could, but now he sat at the dining room table on a very tense first day of school.

His dad was at the other end of the table, picking at a pancake breakfast that was steadily growing cold between them. Viktor Santora was a stately man with a headful of golden hair that was steadily growing streaked with white. He had the same pale blue eyes as Nolan and an often unsmiling mouth. He speared a strawberry and swirled it through runny whipped cream without looking up to meet Nolan's eyes. "I just don't know what you want me to say," said Viktor before he bit into the strawberry at the end of his fork. " I've said everything I possibly can. You know why this is important to us."

"No, dad," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I don't, would you mind runnin' it by me for the hundredth time this week?"

It was worse somehow that his mother hadn't even stood up for him when it came to the Niklaus nonsense. She wasn't often quiet when she disagreed with his father but she'd been very quiet about this. He was equally angry at them both, he couldn't shake the growing resentment as he watched Viktor meticulously saw off bits of pancake and eat them. He knew his outburst would be disregarded but he couldn't help but spit it out anyway.

Viktor chewed thoughtfully before finally glancing up and settling his gaze on the red stone resting at the hollow of Nolan's throat. "Need I bring up that silly amulet that you insist on wearing?"

Nolan could feel his face grow hot at the mention of Niklaus' amulet. It was a noble old thing, the golden fixtures were brassy with age and the chain was quite brittle. The stone itself was a dark and fathomless red, it held no other shades and the facets glittered when the light hit them. He brushed his fingers over it before tightening his hand around it.

He knew what the family thought of his insistency on wearing it, he knew what other necromancers must think but his grandmother had given it to him on her deathbed. She had worn that amulet her whole life and everyone had assumed she'd intended to be buried in it but no, she'd taken Nolan's hands in hers and given it to him. He hadn't taken it off since that day. It seemed wrong somehow to dishonor the memory of someone so dear to him by refusing to wear what she'd gifted him.

"Grandma Arcadia gave it to me," he reminded him, keeping his hand on the stone. "Y'want me to just toss it aside like it means nothin' to me?"

"I want you to grow up, Nolan," responded Viktor. "I want you to get your shit packed and ready to go."

He hadn't complained after that, feeling hushed by the razor edge to the words. He had quickly gathered his things, leaving a note for his mother to send in the rest and without so much as a goodbye from his father, he'd boarded the bus.

Marchand Academy

The ride on the bus was treacherous, each bump made his teeth grit and his nerves were on end. He couldn't bring himself to focus on any of the books he'd brought, frankly staring at the white pages had started to make him nauseous. He had settled for staring out the windows and tracking the colors of the cars that they passed. He almost couldn't hear his own thoughts over the cursing of the driver, he almost couldn't so the entire ride fretting over potential meetings with other necromancers.

Only recently had the Santora family come to power in the council, it had been a landslide victory in a turnout that had taken many necromancers off guard. Nobody had expected the Santoras to win and yet, they had. A history as littered im bones as theirs should have ruined their chances but somehow Viktor had come out on top with flying colors. Before this victory, they had been terribly reclusive, keeping to themselves and avoiding conflict.

This reclusiveness had been all that Nolan knew for seventeen years, it was surreal to imagine something outside of it. When he arrived at the school, he tried to keep his posture as open and friendly as possible. He didn't want to scare anyone off by walking with hunched shoulders or scowling avidly, so he made his way to the common room with a smile on his face and an easy gait.

He made himself a plate heaped up with all sorts of goodies and he got himself a glass of orange juice. He didn't really have the stomach for food after the tense meal he'd had with his father but for the sake of image, he started to choke down some pancakes. He hoped someone had the mercy to sit with him but he was content to wait.

[ShepherdOfHope]

mentions: @Prosaic

---

Riegan Family Household: Hamburg, Germany

From the moment she woke up, Sophia von Riegan could feel a certain anticipation in the air. Today was the day. A certain heaviness in her heart kept her in bed for just a few more minutes; was she truly ready to leave Germany? For some American, middle-of-nowhere school? Of course, it wasn't as if she had a choice in the matter. The invitation to Marchand sealed her fate the moment it arrived. Within the hour, her parents had already scheduled the flight. Not that she blamed them, though--the Marchand Academy of Sorcery presented a unique opportunity to her. That unique opportunity was one she had heard a hundred times from her parents, who insisted on reminding her each chance they got. In truth, the matter was quite exhausting.

Her last few moments of rest were interrupted by the loud slam of her door opening, followed by the ever-recognizable footsteps of her mother. "Sophia! Wake up! You must get ready. Your flight leaves in just a few hours."

"Yes, Mother," she mumbled, dragging herself out of bed. All her belongings were packed the night before, including a laptop and an extensive collection of colored gel pens. By the time she'd showered and walked downstairs for breakfast, her bags had been placed by the door. It was as if her family wished for her to leave. The eager eyes of her parents met hers as she sat at the table, though silence reined for a few moments.

"Are you excited, dear?" her father asked, taking a bite of scrambled eggs. The question was an unfair one: saying no would change nothing, and saying yes would just make them feel better about it all.

"Yes, I am, Father." She thanked the maid who brought her food, though she was reluctant to touch it. Anxiety clawed at her stomach; how could she possibly eat?

"Now, your father and I don't need to remind you of the responsibility you have," her mother said, smiling. "Marchand will house the heirs of some of the most powerful magical families on Earth. It is critical that you befriend them, or are at least liked by them. But more importantly, you must compete with them."

Sophia could barely contain an eye roll.

"Your mother is right, Sophia. It took a war for the Riegans to gain any sort of renown. It's up to you to see it through." Her father continued to eat, though it was as if he was in a rush.

"You...you have my word, Father."

---

Marchand Academy of Sorcery

A full day of flying and many hours of bus riding later, Sophia stood before the Marchand Academy of Sorcery. The building was enormous, intimidatingly so, to the point that she hesitated to even enter. But, after a few moments of gawking, all she could do was walk inside, her bags trailing behind her. After a brief encounter with a less-than-enthusiastic receptionist, she walked up the stairs to the common room with several papers tucked under her arm. Before she opened the door, however, she took a moment to compose herself: she straightened out her skirt, tucked her hair into place, and fixed a bit of smudged eyeliner. She ought to look presentable, no?

After struggling with the door for a moment, Sophia stepped inside, somewhat surprised at the lackluster furniture. It was certainly a far cry from her family's home, at least. And yet, she couldn't help but find it oddly charming. Such beautiful architecture met with a violently clashing interior; she figured it suited a room intended for students to relax in. Glancing around, she could see a group of students had arrived before her, and had already helped themselves to a buffet table. Sophia could still feel the grip of anxiety, but she'd barely eaten since yesterday. She picked a few pancakes off the table, along with a glass of water, before wandering over to where the students were finding their seats. One boy, seated by himself, stood out to her; he seemed friendly enough, at least. She quietly sat next to him, offering a small smile.

[VitoftheVoid]

Even by the standard of the students' travels, the trip over from the secluded isle of Vollr was one little short of heroic. They'd pulled away from the black volcanic sands of its coasts some three days previous. A small boat up to Svalbard, a bigger boat back down to Tromsø, a flight to London, and another to the US, chartered themselves of course, because it was hard to not attract attention, especially when your cargo included a sizeable greatsword and the skins of numerous animals.

Once they'd made it to the right country, it had still been several hours by road, and by the time the car pulled up outside Marchand Academy, Kora Mari Nørrevinter of Vollr was running on a few hours sleep, five cans of pepsi and pure adrenaline.

It was the first time in her life that the young heir had lived anywhere but the frigid island, and to say that she was excited was quite the understatement. The short trips to the mainland, and few days shadowing the Council meetings didn't really hold a candle to the prospect of living away on a permanent basis, and getting the chance to indulge in the sort of things that were in short supply at her home.

Everything the Nørrevinters acquired was brought in themselves, the result of a five-hundred year embargo from the Sterlings, the Councillors of Water and the chief traders in the mage world, a dispute stemming from either a few Sterling ships being raided and burned, or a young daughter of a Nørrevinter chieftain being seduced by Sterling son...depending on which family you asked.

Anything from the mainland was a luxury, but the gods had always provided for them. The fires of the earth had made their island bountiful, even in its place at the roof of the world, and they could cultivate and hunt what they needed. But it was hard won and nothing like what you could find elsewhere.

The grow up on Vollr was to grow up strong and hardy, but Aunt Hilda said that, like the trees on the hills, if all you do is weather storms, you end up gnarled and twisted.

Opening the door, Kora rose to her full height and took in her surroundings. An impressive height it was too. Six foot six, with a mop of red hair, and limbs that seemed a little too long for the rest of her...not to say that there was any air of fragility about Kora Nørrevinter. She definitely looked like she could punch a man's teeth out with a good swing of her fist...there was just something of an impression that her body hadn't quite accustomed itself to her height yet. She was wearing a black T-shirt that, whilst not in english, featured enough spiky script, dragons and skulls that one could only assume it was merchandise for one metal band or another. A pair of headphones that had clearly been well-used, or at least thrown against the wall a number of times, hung around her neck, alongside a pewter mjolnir on a leather thong.

Behind her rose the acting Councillor Hilda Nørrevinter, not quite as tall as her niece, though radiating enough calm authority to more than make up for it in terms of intimidation. She bore the same bright red hair as Kora did, though she wore hers long, part of it tied into plaits that curved round her head and down her back. She was wearing a coat with a collar of wolf fur.

The Nørrevinters were always great fans of furs, hides, skulls. Preferably of dangerous animals. Preferably hunted with as little equipment as possible. Everything was a chance to prove your own prowess, and everyone was a potential opponent. It ws only that much bloody-minded pride that could lend itself to fighting your own traders for centuries.

But it was also that pride that had led them to offer up their own heir to fight the cult.

One they'd paid the ultimate price for.

Hilda paused, leaning on the vehicle for a moment and watching Kora, who was bouncing eagerly on her heels, pulling several furs and what appeared to be a sizeable sword from the car.
She was so much like her father. It filled Hilda's heart with pride and tore it apart all at once.
The older woman's hand reached for the gungnir at her throat, speaking under her breath.
"Damn you Ren. You've never spoken since, but if you're out there you'd better look after her now that I can't."

[akirashadow]

Jake steadied his hand as another bump almost completely ruined the page, glaring momentarily toward the front of the bus before returning his attention to the large notepad he had angled against the chair in front of his with the base of the pad resting against his legs. At the top of the page the numbers '635 8' were scrawled with a messily scribbled out 7 spacing the 5 and 8 apart. sketching oddities and assigning numbers over the page as he went, though their apparent meaning would be likely lost on any without context or explanation. A sigh escaped the boy before he announced. "Turn around, this doesn't concern you. Even if I were to explain it you'd likely be little more than confused." As another peering over his shoulder ducked back down into their seat without another word.

It was the second page, the second attempt since the journey had begun. This could only have meant that thus far the journey had taken a significant amount of time, hours in fact. Though Jake seemed barely phased by this, his attention focused on the pad before him. He tensed up once more as the bus hit another bump, though through forceful contact the pencil in his hand snapped against the pad. A heavy sigh of disappointment escaped him as Jake pulled the pad toward him and carefully flipped it shut before laying it flat against his lap. Jake momentarily stood from his seat and tossed the broken drawing instrument through the open window. Had a better suited option of transportation been available to him he would of gladly taken it. Alas his family had not the funds to arrange such a pleasant service. The fact that he had been invited to attend this school seemed more a cruel joke at the time he had received it.

He reached down into his backpack, securely held in an upright stance between his legs and pulled an envelop from within and inspected it as he traced the edges of the sealed flap with his fingers. He glanced at the wax seal that was placed on the centre as he shook his head. "That is far beyond what is allowed." He mumbled to himself as he lowered both his hands towards his backpack, producing a small weak flame and defacing the markings on the wax seal. "Far more appropriate." He stated in acknowledgement to himself before dropping the envelop back into the backpack. How could his own parents be so stupid as to think that it was appropriate to use the old family seal on a letter intended for the staff. Perhaps they thought this was some 'smart' way of rebelling against the restrictions imposed upon them.

Though he hoped the journey would become more stable as they approached their destination the reverse would hold more true. It felt like it could be considered that the bus had bounced rather than been driven to its destination. Jake picked his pad up before pushing himself up to his feet, grabbed his backpack with his free hand and flung the strap over his shoulder. As he approached the front of the bus he stopped before passing the driver and turned his attention to them. "That was unpleasant, though I suppose I should thank you for not getting us all killed." His tone seemed dry, though his choice of word would suggest he was angry. "I hope your drive back is just as eventful." With that said Jake stepped off of bus.

He looked upon the academy in awe from where he stood. A mammoth of a building, one that was not a common occurrence in Jake's life. Maybe such buildings were a common sight prior to the war for his family, but his age gifted him no such pleasure. He just stood there gawking for a few minutes before he finally made his way toward the building as he gripped his pad in his right arm and clung the strap of his backpack with his left hand. Jake passed through the entryway revealing an equally impressive interior, far from the rundown attempt of decoration that adorned his own home. What would possibly be considered the reception for the school carried with it near silence bar the mechanical click of typing from behind the counter. As he approached there was evidence of what seemed a sort of sign in sheet, containing the names of those that had arrived before him.

Jake briefly scanned over the names before freeing his left hand up to add his own name to the bottom of the existing list. Like some automated machine the person behind the counter handed over several sheets of paper to him. He flicked through the hand outs, none seemed particularly relevant to his current situation bar the map. He studied it before raising it, along with the other hand outs to his mouth and gripped them between his lips. He readjusted and grabbed the backpack strap with his left hand again before he headed off to the location he studied as being the common area, the route seemed fairly straight forward so it had been easy enough to commit to memory.

"Welcome students... well we'll see about that." Jake muttered to himself upon seeing the banner above the the entrance to the common area. As he was about to step in the plaque caught his interest. "Ah well that explains things." Jake spied the name 'Firestrom' among those that had 'donated' toward this schools funding. Clearly there was at least one decision maker here that knew of the link between the two families, but who?

Upon seeing the table of food, Jake pushed his trail of thought to the back of his mind. Though fairly hungry he simply grabbed an apple from the offering of food before heading to an empty table and taking a seat, dropping his backpack to the floor and laying his note pad upon the table. Jake removed the handouts from his lips and spread them across the table surface before taking the first bite of the apple. He gazed around the common room at the students that had already arrived, surprisingly the bus he'd traveled on had evidently made him one of the earlier arrivals. Having examined his surroundings, Jake returned his attention to the items he'd received at the sign in counter. Intent at that moment of keeping himself to himself.

[Prosaic]

It was the first day of school and he was hungover.
The night before had been spent emptying a bottle of scotch in his bedroom while his mother pounded on the door and tried to reason with him. He knew why she was sending him there, it was like the wards, she wanted a break and she was too polite to just fucking say it. Keandre was no stranger to beimg sent places to ease his mother's guilty conscious and this was no different.

Late summer in America was painted in warm tones, the leaves hadn't changed yet for the onset of fall but the warm air was loud with the sounds of insects in the trees. He could ear the raucous cries of crows as he stepped from his plane, their anxiety was his anxiety. He tried to soothe their worries as he made his way into the building. An airport was an airport, no matter what language they were speaking though he was much less at ease to hear friendly people speaking English in his ears. Perhaps a product of his bad mood and his growing headache, he decided to only speak to them in confused French until they left him alone.

Using the minimal cash that his ex-step father had given him, he booked his cab to the school on his own. He stood and waited for this cab alone, keeping his eyes set forward. A man with an Italian accent made a joke at him in Italian, he responded in French. The look of confusion on the man's face had made all of the waiting worth it. Eventually his cab showed up and he wordlessly slipped inside, only offering a few vague "yes" and "no" answers to the man driving him around.

This is absolute shit, he thought as the cab took him from the airport to the school. His head was pounding, a dull and throbbing sensation that he couldn't quite shake. He knew that he should have perhaps been more tactful woth his decisions the day prior but spite was a very powerful beast. He was still ridiculously angry at his mother for being so alright with sending him off to this hellscape of a school. She was so tired of dealing with him that she'd sent him to an entirely different country.

He wanted to blame Adriano, naturally, who had always had it out for him but he couldn't help blaming her too. It took two to send your teenage son off to America to "improve his magic". Fuck that, he thought. Holly never cared about my magic before. When the cab pulled up outside the gates, he passed the money along to the driver and he hopped out to face the security outside. They let him through after a cursory check and he made his way into the building.

The common room smelled strongly of breakfast and hormonal teenagers, he wasn't one to turn down breakfast but he could do without the teenagers. Human public school all over again, he thought disdainfully. He grabbed himself a plate, spotting Dawn by herself. He knew that mage, at least, and he offered her a wave as he went to find himself somewhere to sit.

It had been a long day. It was going to be a long school year.

[VitoftheVoid]

Home.
It'd always seemed like a bit of an odd concept to Dinah Fox.
You attached some kind of worth to a place. A spot of earth, for having occupied it long enough it'd gotten familiar to you.
Perhaps that was because she didn't tend to get acquainted with any path of earth for all that long, but she found it her to attach that kind of sentimentality to a place.

Cyrus still had memories of the house. The grounds. All of the buildings. The tree swing and the fish pond.
The only she could remember clearly herself was the dogs. Daisy, Arrow, Mountain. Missing the dogs. Telling them they needed to go back and get the dogs.

Of course they never did go back and get the dogs.

When you start early then letting material things go became pretty easy, though there were more things that didn't ever really leave your grasp. You travelled light because of the weight of your own grudges.

It'd been a long trip to Marchand. Getting to somewhere where the bus was going to pick up was about as difficult as just getting to the place itself, so it seemed smart to cut the middle man. It was not as if she was coming from overseas.
Though, she might as well have been for all the hassle involved.

Money ran out a little after she got out of the state, and it had been mostly hitchhiking from there. Begging, borrowing and stealing her progress toward the marker on her folded roadmap and trying not to get murdered along the way...though that was never totally guaranteed.
She'd spent most of the night trying to find someone going the rest of the way to some indistinct location, and eventually hit upon a delivery driver who was easily bribed enough to let her take a seat amid the boxes and packing bags for the next four hours, until it slowed to a crawl at the end of a forested path, and she was able to hop out.

The young man wound down the window as she hooked her backpack over one shoulder, giving a rather pointed cough.

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Thanks for the help."

With one deft movement, she extended a hand to shake his, which came away with a small plastic bag of ground-up leaves sat neatly in the palm. He nodded, and without a word, the van took off and rounded the corner.

The rest of it, Dinah made on foot. She wasn't unused to walking. But it had been a long few days. Enough that when she caught sight of the building she could almost put aside her considerable misgivings about the entire thing. Almost, but not quite. She could almost imagine word for word what her brother would be saying about it.

'That isn't a place for people like us. That is another Council vanity project. You'll hate it there. And they'll probably hate it that you showed up.'

Though the last one seemed more of a plus to her. Maybe that was the difference between her and her brother, and was why she was here and he was working as dish washer in 'Who The Hell Cares' West Virginia. If there was one thing in the world she was good at, it was digging her heels in.

Dinah walked along the drive, approaching the gates, getting a little bit of scrutiny from the gate guard as she presented her letter. It might have been the name on the letter, though she guessed it was something else.
She didn't exactly...match well with the general ambience it was giving off.
The prestigious private school vibe didn't really gel with the unkempt hair, the faded T-shirt that had clearly belonged to a male who was several sizes bigger that she was, the denim jacket with skinned elbows, and the canvas hiking boots held together by two rings of silver duct tape around each.

Scruffy seemed an understatement. She looked like a homeless person.

But she was a homeless person with an invitation, and so she proceeded with some haste into the building.

The common room looked like about five different furniture stores with wildly different clients, and possibly one hapless passing natural history museum, had all violently collided.
Even with that in mind, it was still one of the nicest places she had seen in a while.

A few students has already arrived and were evidently making the most of the networking opportunity. The young Fox was entirely unconcerned about that though.
No travel budget meant no food budget either, and the last cereal bar was a long long time ago.
So she didn't waste much time, grabbing an entire box of cereal, sticking her hand in, and biting into the entire handful.

Feral was probably quite a good word.
Terramancy really was the only primary where you could turn that into an advantage.

[Mistress Dizzy]

Well. That had been an adventure. Kassy stood, coughing in the exhaust of the bus as it took off, empty of the early students who had been on it. She’d never been on a bus ride that long. She groaned slightly and stretched, popping her joints reflexively. Humans were not meant to sit down for long stretches of time, she thought.

She gathered her heavy bags and approached the school, neck craning as she stared upward at the elegant building. It was a lovely place, full of brick walls and beautiful plants. It looked somehow older than it should have been. Once she was done gawking, she followed the flow. There were some other students here, and Kassandra simply traipsed behind them and hoped they were all going to the same place.

The crowd led her more or less inside the building, where she stopped at a extremely bored-looking receptionist’s desk to sign in and gather paperwork. Tucking that away into one of her many bags, she followed her nose to the scent of food. A late breakfast was better than none, and she filled her plate.

She hadn’t had but a bowl of cereal very early in the morning. Everything she owned or cared about was in her suitcases around her. Her stomach twisted slightly as she thought of her leaving home, for what may have been the last time. Her aunt had not bothered to drive her to the bus station, or even say goodbye. It was just another hallmark in their long and tested relationship. In a way, Kassandra was glad. No tears, no fuss, just take her shit and be done with it. To say she would miss the woman would be an utter lie.

But all the same, it would have been nice to have someone missing her back home. Some who gave half a damn.

Oh well.

At least there was food.

Kassy finished her plate of fruit and pancakes, then plugged her headphones into her phone and brought up a Queen album, almost silently humming along while she waited for something to happen.

[chocomog333]

Carmina had her headphones on the whole ride into the academy. Her parents had sent her off with love. Even her personal servant said he would miss the young lady’s nightly concerts. But they all knew this would be for the best. She had a talent and perhaps the only way she would survive in the adult world would be to master that talent. To be fair, she wanted to go. She loved her home and her family, but they all knew she wanted to travel. She wanted to see the world and play the melodies of many far off lands. This was the first step in that journey. As she stepped onto the plane, she waved goodbye to England, her home, and her family.

Her lack of a voice left her a bit of an introvert, so she spent this trip like most of the ones in her past, watching the rolling landscapes go by as her headphones swept her away. It made the time go by much faster. Occassionally, on both the plane and the bumpy bus ride from the airport, she would get lost in the music and project her soundtrack onto the world. The confused looks quickly reminded her to keep her powers in check.

Carmina finally arrived at the school, collecting her luggage, which included her prized violin. She pulled out a pocket watch from the cloth compartment on her dress. She always blended fashion with function. She noticed she had arrived a little early, so she wasn’t in a particular rush to reach her destination. She decided an exploration of her new home was warranted. She strolled around the school grounds, taking in the massive campus, she knew that she it would take quite some time to discover every nook and cranny. She took another look at her pocket watch and decided it was time to head. She wanted to be fashionably on time, not tardy. She made it to the reception desk and signed in. She simply smiled and nodded at the less than enthused receptionist. She took a quick stroll around the front lobby before making her way to the common room.

Finally, she made her way to the common room. The decor was... eccentric, to say it politely. But, Carmina enjoyed eccentricities and the room's tonal disorder gave her a quick, but silent, chuckle. She noticed the food furst, then the other students. She quickly collected some breakfast and found an empty seat. Though she was starving, she maintained a dignified, but not offputting, air as she ate. While eating, she discretely placed two drumsticks she retrieved from her long stockings onto the table and awaited further instructions from the professors.

[VitoftheVoid]

The Kingsley family were.... stoic. Constant. The standing stones on their crest did more than reflect the ancient alignments of their home at Avebury, it was a reflection of the desirable traits of a Kingsley. Unaffected by the chaos around them. Persisting through everything. A lone figure of calm neutrality when everyone else was losing their minds.

And, of course, just like the designs in the crest, marked with runes.

A child born of parents from two primaries stood about a half chance of being born with one or the other.
Had Aeryn Kingsley arrived back at Avebury manner sixteen years previous with a runecaster child, it would have been a little complicated, but not of much concern.

In the end, it had all come down to a matter of fate. A coin flip.

And if the result of that flip had shown anything, it was that Helena Kingsley was not a naturally lucky person.

Her life hadn't exactly been the most tragic. She'd never had to want for much materially.
And her childhood hadn't been marred by some major tragedy. Her home hadn't been burned to the ground, if she had a dead parent she had no way of knowing it, and she wasn't left with some thirst for revenge.

But matters of small chance never did seem to fall in her favour.

There probably would habe been a good chance that she'd wake up before the arrival of the other students in the common room for example. Or indeed, a good chance that she wouldn't fall asleep on the common room sofa in the first place. She'd missed both however, and blinking awake to find herself surrounded by students was a little embarrassing.

Helena had, up to that point, been lying on her front on an evidently pretty expensive sofa, ginger hair splayed out around her head like some kind of washed-up cephalopod, phone resting loosely in her hand. She was wearing brightly coloured knitted jumper, patterned with numerous hued cat faces, and the message 'Have A Mice Day' on the front.
If it had been her plan to look her best for the arrival of everyone else, then it had not gone terrible well.

Then again, it was entirely possible that Helena Kingsley would regard a rainbow cat sweater to be looking her best. She had never completely served as a paragon of style and minimalism.

As if her late and misplaced awakening was not a problem in itself, she was soon face with something else. For within a few moments of doing so, her view of the ceiling was obscured as the face of Professor Kovalenko, complete with look of avian disdain.

"What are you doing there, Kingsley?" the woman asked, clearly irritable.

It took a few moments for Helena to summon up some words.
"Sorry Professor. I...I must've fallen asleep."

"Evidently." the woman's expression did not falter in the slightest.
"Well pull yourself together or you're going to miss the briefing. And do try to stay awake for the entire duration if that at all possible."

With that she turned and walked away, leaving Helena struggling to right herself. This was not really how she'd planned to start the school year.

[Prosaic]

Sanitary mask. Rubber gloves. Hand sanitizer.
He was technically ready for anything that this school could throw at him but he was a bit nervous nonetheless. 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 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.

[ouTland01]

[𝓡𝓮𝓭𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓭], 𝓘𝓬𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓭

The Schovajsas live in several structures spread across the landforms of a river delta in northwestern Iceland. Low to the ground and camouflaged, they are impeccably hidden from even those who seek it out. In truth, much of the residential area of the Schovajsas is underground, in a steady concrete bunker-like complex connecting all of the upper structures, spanning roughly four acres. A dock, though still hidden, is the only open structure visible. Two white boats and a coterie of jet skis are the only vehicles moored there.

Gabriel, dressed in insulated field gear for the upcoming boat ride, had sat cross-legged on his bed in the southernmost hall. His belongings were ready, stacked precariously in the main aboveground building. He had come back down, said his goodbyes, hidden his knives, and was ready to leave, but slouched on his bed with an absent scowl peering out from behind his folded-down halfmask. The only active light source in his room illuminated a terrarium. A hose rises out of the top of a humidifier and into a tank, fog billowing into it, lit somewhat creepily by the soft violet light.

He stared at the dim terrarium, grey eyes settling on beady black. He cracked a small smile for the first time that day and walked to it. He pulled out the pins on the lid and scooped its lone occupant out – a female ball python with a peculiar pattern, loose coils disguising her length. She crept up his arm, nosing around his neck and continuing around, lazily girdling his neck. He set the lid back into place, turning the humidifier off.

“And what are you planning on doing with that, Gabriel?” A voice, somewhere outside his doorway.

He froze. “Uh, just saying bye. I’m going to put her up, now.” He didn't move to do so.

A hand cupped his elbow, but he's so used to the way that his family seems to ignore the fact that movement should generate sound that he managed to suppress the instinctive flinch. Vivian Schovajsa, warm as ever, pulled him into a hug. He sagged into it, burying his face in her shoulder. “You’ll be alright. I’ll take care of her while you’re gone, okay?” She pulled back. “It’s dark. I’m winking. I won’t tell a soul. Just be careful with her. ”

He had laughed. “I’m going to miss you. Don’t die while I’m gone, old lady.”

She patted him on the shoulder. “Only from boredom. Come on, it’s about time to go.”

She turned the light on in the hallway, and he stuffed a travel carrier into his backpack. It wasn't...entirely noticeable? Not his best work. Saga curled around his snoulder and upper arm, and he hid her under a large jacket. Gabriel turned to his grandmother and nodded. They made towards the end of the hall, where they followed a floorlit path to the docks. In the cold, brackish air, she turned to him. Her steely eyes softened.

“Kemur allt með kalda vatninu.”

“Aldrei er góð vísa of oft kveðin.” He pulled his halfmask and hood up. “Take care, Apex.”

𝓜𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓐𝓬𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓶𝔂

At the back of the bus, he’d been able to watch the other students. What he hadn’t considered was, although an excellent vantage point, his position was subject to particularly violent jerking and rattling over every little pothole. He had tried to grit his teeth and bear it, but a large bump made them clack together painfully. Clutching at his mouth while trying to convince a pissed-off snake to stay his jacket hadn’t gone especially well, either. He slinked off the bus nursing several bite marks on his hands, a scuff on his collarbone, and a fucking headache.

The building is impressive, architecture reminding him of some areas of Reykjavík that their supply lines run past. The interior, however, is nothing like what he expected. He follows alongside the students, quirking a brow at the welcome banner. Inside the common room, his other brow joins the first. Vaguely impressed at the absolute visual discord, he flicks the bear tapestry and settles into a chair by it, dropping his bags at his feet. After checking on his suit and travel carrier, Gabriel slides a hand over his face, subtly eyeing the row of teeth marks. He rolls his eyes and pokes at Saga by his ribcage, earning nothing but a recoil for his troubles.