[IC] Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

[Roman]

G I L E M O R Y G A L A H A D
G I L E M O R Y G A L A H A D

_{Location: The Chimera's Lair - Pacific Royal Campus}

Welcome Home #1.061: Bullet: dodged.

---

_{Interaction(s): //}

The piercing alarm from his phone, buzzing away on the carpet floor, woke Gil sharply from what he was sure had been a very pleasant dream, even as the details dissipated from memory like smoke. He lay on his back, duvet tossed and thrashed and askew across his half-naked frame, taking long hard blinks as the morning sun drifted through half-closed curtains, dust motes twinkling in the beams. He drew long, deep breaths, willing himself to wake up. The phone blared and buzzed, and eventually he pulled himself up at the waist to sit on the edge of his bed, duvet slipping off completely and rumpling on the floor. He lent down to scoop up his phone and shut off the alarm, rubbing his eyes with the back of his other hand as the light from the screen forced his still-sleepy eyes to squint.

Seconds later he was up and scrambling for clothes. He'd overslept, having gotten in later than expected from the beach - despite Amma's outburst, he was determined not to end the final night of freedom before the year began in earnest end on such a soured note, and so he'd assisted in emptying out Rory's cooler with not only the dwindling members of Blackjack, but also any late-night beach-goer who'd wandered close enough.

Now, however, he was in danger of missing breakfast before the opening ceremony for the academic year, and he was well-aware that manual labour would feature heavily in the days' agenda; not only the trials themselves, but also the construction and setup of the trials, on which senior students were relied upon for their assistance, and he needed to be well-fed if he and Gils 2 & 3 were going to be of use. Speaking of...
Gil finished pulling on his uniform in a hurry, getting the bulk of it on - trousers, shirt, socks and shoes, tie - before he shimmered and a similarly-scruffy Gil stepped forth from him.

Bleary-eyed, hungry, and ever-so-slightly hungover, Gil immediately recognised this exertion as a mistake, feeling instantly woozy and stumbling backwards; his heel hit the foot of the bed and he tumbled onto the bed, hand pushed against his forehead as vision swam and nausea washed over him. Gil2, though also bleary-eyed, hungry, and ever-so-slightly hungover, remained standing, and proffered a hand to Gil when he looked up again, dragging a hand down his face. He took it, and Gil helped himself to his feet again.

As Gil2 made his way out of the dorm and toward the mess hall to collect a sizeable breakfast, Gil threw on his blazer and took a couple minutes to himself to toss a far-too-hot espresso shot (with more sugar than many would find acceptable) down his gullet, ignoring the burning in his throat to focus instead on the blossoming warmth in his belly. Steeling himself against the coming day, he took one last once-over of himself in the mirror, used a single hand to tousle his hair (still smelling of smoke from last night's bonfire) just-so, and went to follow himself down to breakfast.

---

Gil stood outside the main doors of the Mess Hall, quietly chatting with Rory and passing the usual good mornings to whoever walked by, awaiting Gil2 to return arms laden with pastries and fried protein. The hall was abuzz with activity, the anticipation of the semester's first proper day thrumming through the student body, freshman and senior alike. He was considerably un-prepared for the arrival of Lorcán - or, more specifically, the arrival of Lorcán's hands.

He startled as Lorcán slapped his and Rory's arses with considerable fervour, and he was sure that had Gil2 been stood here, and he collecting breakfast in the Mess Hall, his friend may have traumatized himself and several other students by catalyzing Gil's sudden disintegration into nothingness with little more than an overly-fond physical greeting. As it was, Gil turned around, craning his neck for his copy in the mess hall as he did, and smiled as best he could as the three friends greeted each other, once again, as academic peers.

“Hopefully, you dudes don’t have to sit down too soon, but man, bros, you missed out on some legen-lactose heavy’-dary swells this mornin’. I am totally going to get you both out on a board before we graduate.”
Lorcán fumbled with his belt, dropping his trousers to the ground in the process, and Gil was silently thankful that he clearly wasn't the only one struggling with this particular morning.
"If you can score me a board for a day, I'll be there, bro." Rory replied, in typical 'up-for-anything' Rory fashion, and Lorcán grinned in return, turning his gaze expectantly to Gil.
"I think I'll let another Gil give it a trial run first. Wouldn't want to damage the money-maker in an errant wave." He said, offering a hand for Lorcán to shake, greeting him warmly as other members of Blackjack began drifting in.

On cue, Gil2 pushed open the doors of the mess hall with his back, turning as he came through to reveal two well-stocked trays balanced precariously between two mug-bearing arms. Steam drifted from the rims, and Gil felt himself coming alive just from the smell of the tea within. The trays, meanwhile, held croissants, a couple chocolate pains, a handful of bacon rashers each, two hard-boiled eggs (pre-peeled), and a banana. Gil carefully helped Gil2 with the mugs and trays, and the two gorged themselves, supping down great glugs of sugary tea between bites of their respective breakfasts.

---

By the time Blackjack arrived at Chimera's Lair, both Gils were thoroughly sated and slaked, and felt far more prepared for the day with full stomachs and slow-boil caffeine beginning to circulate. Gil2 departed - he had no need to sit around for the speech, and would instead use the time to fulfill Gil's community contribution obligations - but Gil himself filed into the stadium alongside his teammates, fidgeting and shifting in his seat as he tried, without success, to find a comfortable position in the hard-backed plastic chairs. He paid little attention, clapping when others clapped, whooping when others whooped, and only eyed the Foundation staff momentarily until their identities were confirmed; of little consequence, or so he thought.

He stopped fidgeting and found his attention laser-focused and breath hitching as Jim dropped the bombshell on degree accreditation; wasted years and futile plans cascaded in front of his eyes, vision swimming with images of scripts being burnt and casting calls passing him by - and then Jim followed up and said,
"our degree programs in the engineering, law and medical fields,"
and he breathed a heavy sigh of relief and sunk backwards into his chair, reassured his programme had not been set askew by the sudden upset. He could feel his phone sitting heavy in his pocket - he would certainly need to discuss the implications with Artie, and there was no guarantee that invalidations wouldn't stretch further into PRCU's course offerings and dismantle the university's credibility entirely - but, for now, at least he was safe.

Not that he could say the same for many of his teammates, and their reactions spoke for themselves in this regard. Gil felt himself shrinking into his seat, not wanting to be noticed or singled-out for how he had dodged such a mighty blow. This announcement would derail a strong majority of the team, and he wouldn't blame any one of them for spiraling out; he thought back to only the night previous, the twelve of them gathered around the warm glow of the bonfire beside the ocean, spooling out their futures into the fire. Only one of them hadn't indulged in such optimism.

Gil heard her laugh, and the feeling of a full stomach was suddenly distinctly unwelcome.

Had she known?

It didn't do to dwell on it. Even if she had, what use would knowing have been? To any of them?

Gil watched each of his teammates make their exits, each bearing a weight upon them he couldn't know. There was an odd sense of remorse bubbling up within him, a survivor's guilt shouldered for people who were still very much alive. A future that had seemed so attainable and assured less than merely eighteen hours ago had been suddenly and viciously ripped away from beneath them.

He'd need to catch up with Lorcán, undoubtedly; Rory too, but the pair were away from him, and Aurora had gone after the former hurriedly - her compassion was far better suited for this sensitive moment that Gil's brand of superficial charm and 'easy-breezy' philosophy. The plateau would be better, when they could talk without looking at each other, focusing on the construction instead of connection.

As the crowd of students, no longer buzzing with anticipation but now dour and deflated, began to filter out of the stadium, Gil found himself simply washed along amidst them, sympathizing for those affected, but clinging onto the future that was still within reach.

In his pocket, his phone buzzed, and he fished it out to look at the screen. Artie was calling. Gil hung up, and slowly made his way toward the fleet of vehicles ready to ferry students across to the Southern Plateau.

---

The sun bore down, now high in the sky as the day moved through the morning and into midday and the afternoon proper. The Gils alighted from the Minotaur, aware they were on the second-wave and therefore in danger of being late again; still, the pair took the time to stretch out, looking reminiscent of an Olympic swimming duo as their movements inadvertently synchronised. Shaking off the last of the stiffness, Gil shimmered again, and Gil3 stepped forth; they all three figured to save time and multiply now, rather than wait to be asked. Gil lifted his bag onto his shoulder as his copies forged ahead, trekking to the campsite.

Up ahead, the trio could see a neatly-arranged ring of tents, pre-fabricated and already setup, positioned with care and forethought around the firepit. It felt communal, village-like; even the tents' openings were all organised inwards. Past the tents Gil could see a similar cluster of tents, and wondered which team they were situated near; then, in the noon sun, there was a paired glimmer of rich orange and shock-white blonde, and Gil knew it was Firebird. That pair of heads couldn't be anyone other than Alyssa and Luce, inseparable since their return from an extended gap-year after the Hyperion incident. Alyssa was a redhead and a stunner, an all-smiles socialite down to the hilt; Luce was even-tempered, measured in her reactions and words, criss-crossed with scars and in possession of a gaze equally haunted and haunting. He wondered how Firebird were handling the morning's news.

His own teammates, meanwhile, had gathered already, and were busying themselves with the important task of arranging bunking partners before the evening descended and a hard day's work would cut into their patience. There were obvious obvious pairings - namely Banjo and Calliope - but also subtle obvious pairings: Lorcán and Aurora, Rory and Haven, that sort of thing. It was like co-ed bunking was mandated. Speaking of...
"So, Barnes... you want to sleep together tonight?"

If Haven didn't choke on the water, Gil choked on the air in her stead.
²"Smooth." Gil2 said, fishing a spare water bottle of his own as the copies congregated with the original.
³"We should really go and help bail him out. One of us, at least." Replied Gil3. Gil himself simply held up a hand.
"No no. He needs to learn. Besides, it's more entertaining this way...and probably a better gauge if Haven actually reciprocates."

[Zoldyck]

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_{Location: Chimera’s Lair - Pacific Royal Campus}

Welcome Home #1.062: Tears Before The Sun

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_{Interaction(s): Harper @Qia}

Harper suddenly found herself enveloped in an overwhelming sense of warmth, a sensation akin to the first rays of dawn piercing through the early morning mist. The softness of a familiar voice, gentle and reassuring, acted like a soothing balm applied tenderly to her emotional wounds. It was a slow process, but with each word spoken, the healing began, mending the frayed edges of her spirit.

Tears, once relentless in their descent, continued to carve wet trails down Harper’s cheeks. Yet, as she gradually lifted her head from the cradle of her hands, she found solace in Katja’s embrace. Despite the tears that blurred her vision, rendering the world around her an impressionist’s canvas, she leaned into the comfort offered.

Her body, which had been a wall of tension—fortified by the weight of doubts and fears—began to unfurl and relax. Katja’s presence, steady and unwavering, seemed to provide a haven, a sanctuary for Harper’s current vulnerable state. One she was more than willing to hide herself in, even if it was only for a short time.
With a quivering voice, the brunette whispered a quiet“Thank you” into the other girl’s shoulder. The words were barely audible, yet they were imbued with the most sincere appreciation she could muster at that moment.

Hearing Harper's soft expression of gratitude made Katja’s lips form a soft, genuine smile. She kept the smaller brunette wrapped in her arms for a couple seconds longer, gently swaying her from left to right. “No need to thank me, sweetie.” Finally, after a couple more seconds of silence, she gave a gentle squeeze before relaxing her embrace and leaning back slightly.

Using her index finger, Katja tilted Harper’s chin slightly upwards to get a better look at the smaller girl’s face. A soft tut was uttered by the taller blonde as she brushed some stray strands of brown hair out of the brunette’s face. She then did her best to clean Harper’s face from her tears, clearing the trails with the same finger she used to lift her head.

“There, that looks more like the Harper I know.” She said after she had wiped the tears off of Harper’s cheeks. Katja then fixed her bright blue eyes with the marvelously powerful hazel eyes of her teammate, making sure that she would understand the sincerity of the blonde girl.

“Know that I’ll always have your back, Harps.” She leaned in close again for another quick squeeze before leaning further back. “Doesn’t matter when or where, I’m there for you.”

As Katja’s assurances washed over her, Harper felt a lightness in her chest, as if a heavy burden had been lifted. The gentle sway of their embrace, the tender touch upon her chin, and the soft clearing of her tears—all these gestures from Katja stirred a deep-seated comfort within Harper. One that she had not felt in a long time. Not since-
We’ll always have each other. No matter what else happens.

Harper’s reaction was instinctive as she pulled back to add even more distance, a reflex born of a heart that had long before embraced solitude. Yet, an apology was quick on her lips to make up for any perceived rudeness.

“Sorry I-” her voice broke, and she averted her eyes to the ground, blue reverting to familiar brown, what was familiar to her. All that she could allow herself to accept. “Today has just been a lot.”

“Hey…” Katja tilted her head, trying to meet Harper’s gaze as the smaller girl looked away. “It’s fine, silly. You have nothing to apologize for.” She spoke softly, attempting to calm the young brunette before she spiraled back into the darkness of before.

Katja waited for a moment before she spoke again, hoping the silence would have a soothing effect on the younger girl. When she finally broke the quiet, she did so with the same soft voice. “Come on, let’s make our way over to the dorms and get into our PT gear.” She said before getting back up, casting a shadow over the smaller brunette.

Extending her hand to help Harper get back to her feet, a chuckle emanated from the blonde giant. “Or do you want to be carried?” Katja said to her as she flashed a grin.

But I will have something to apologize for if things go badly later. Harper kept this trepidation locked away, however, hidden beneath a veneer of momentary calm, for fear of what Katja might think. To her, Katja was more than just a friend; she was her sun, a source of light and life in a world that could often be cold and unforgiving, especially now that she no longer had the protection provided by her long-held desires.

Despite the storm of anxious thoughts, Harper accepted Katja’s help, standing tall once more. She snorted and rolled her eyes in response to the other’s lighthearted proposition.

“As appealing as that sounds, I think that’s a hard pass. Besides, I’d rather spare you the back pain,” she replied with a hint of sarcasm.

Katja let out a boisterous laugh at that statement. “Good one! But I’m willing to bet I’ve had meals that weigh more than you do!” A hearty chuckle escaped her grin as she gave a pat on the smaller girl’s shoulder. Not hard enough to hurt though, she wouldn’t dare.

Her chuckle slowly died out, ending in a soft sigh. The corners of Katja’s lips slowly fell as her wide grin turned into a more serious line. “In all seriousness though, how are you holding up Harps?” She spoke in an earnest tone while making sure to lock her blue eyes with Harper’s, so as to communicate her sincerity. “Promise me you’ll come to me when you need anything. And I do mean anything!”

Katja wrapped one arm around the shorter girl’s shoulder before leaning in closer with her head. A soft smile tugged on her lips again. “All you need to do is ask and I’ll come running. Through walls if need be!” Again, a hearty chuckle would emanate from the tall blonde. But despite the levity in her voice, her eyes showed that she meant every word.

Harper felt the weight of Katja’s words settle in her heart, a comforting pressure that both soothed and overwhelmed. She did feel touched by the genuine concern, the unconditional offer of support that was so characteristic of Katja. But there was a ‘but’ that lingered on the tip of her tongue, a shadow that crept into the edges of her gratitude that she could not ignore.

“Thanks, Kat,” she replied, her voice tinged with as much warmth as she could summon. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt the sunny girl’s feelings with any perceived rejection of her offer. “I’m doing okay for right now. Just gotta take things one day at a time, you know?” Her words were accompanied by a nod and a smile, a silent language of appreciation that she hoped would convey more than words ever could.

Internally was a different story entirely. She was struggling to suppress the urge to just come clean because logically Katja would be an invaluable asset when she gave the idea some thought. She’d always been the glue of the team and always looked out for everyone. A safety net. But Harper would not dare to further consider placing yet another friend in danger. She could not, would not, let her own selfish needs endanger another person. Especially this one.

So Harper stood there, a smile on her lips but a tempest in her soul, grateful for the sanctuary Katja offered but fiercely determined to protect her from the storm that had always rained over her life.

“Race ya to the Minotaur after? I promise I’ll go easy on you,” the brunette challenged instead, her eyes now gleaming with a competitive spark she hoped, based on past observation, would be hard to resist.

Katja’s eyes lingered on Harper for just a moment. Something about her didn’t quite seem right to the blonde girl, like she was holding something back. But that was just a feeling. Harper said she was doing better, so that was enough for Katja to drop the matter.

Her face visibly lit up at the suggestion of a friendly competition. “You’re on, Harps!” Katja practically yelled to the smaller girl, grinning from ear to ear.

“Just don’t pull a sour face when you lose!”

[Skai]

---

H A V E N
H A V E N

_{Location: Southern Plateau - PRCU}

Welcome Home #1.063: ... Gets the worm?

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_{Interaction(s): Rory @Webboysurf}

Previously: Early Bird

Haven had noticed Rory's exit from the Mintoaur. His usual plucky demeanor had hers lifting, her smile broadening as she watched him take a tent towards the edge of the camp. What's he planning?

She turned to check that her final tent had righted itself properly, in time to hear Rory's tease from across the site. An unexpected laugh erupted from her throat, but she quickly covered it with a cough. It was funny that they'd gotten together in a similar manner, years ago. Still, Haven didn't feeling comfortable thinking about what they got up to in their tent. She regained her composure at that thought, turning in time to see Rory sauntering over to her.

The grin she gave him was almost scolding, her eyebrows raising at him, but the gleam in her eyes revealed the amusement behind it. She reached for the water bottle, her smile softening at the gesture.

Yet the moment he looked towards the tent she'd chosen, she felt her heart begin to thump in her chest. She kept the water bottle in her hands, not daring to take a drink of it until he finished the thought he was working on. She didn't want a repeat of yesterday. It was clear when he made up his mind, his confidence shining on his features like the midday sun. She held her breath, seconds seeming to stretch into minutes as she waited for him to speak.

"So, Barnes... you want to sleep together tonight?"

Haven's brows twitched in shock. Her body instantly heated. Her PT shirt and shorts suddenly felt too tight, like she was wearing way too many clothes. Her back muscles tensed, but she held them in place should her wings decide to fluff up again.

He's not this forward, right?

Hell, she didn't mind it if he was. Haven suddenly wanted it. He could have it right now, if they weren't expected to meet with Tad and Robert soon.

Gil had choked on thin air by the Minotaurs.
"Smooth."
"We should really go and help bail him out. One of us, at least."
"No no. He needs to learn. Besides, it's more entertaining this way...and probably a better gauge if Haven actually reciprocates."

At least a third of Gil is thoughtful.

Her mouth opened, as if to answer, but she held her tongue. Gil's words repeated in her mind, and she realized he'd hinted at the beach incident. Finally, thank the heavens, Haven realized what he really meant.

Her heart still beat fast, but Haven was confident as she took a step towards Rory. She smiled up at him, and her head tilted to the side ever so slightly. "Sure thing, Rory." Her voice was low and as smooth as velvet. Quiet enough that the others would have had to strain to hear it.

Even if Rory wasn't thinking about it that way. Even if Haven didn't expect it to happen at all, surrounded by their teammates on the plateau. She didn't want to squash any hope that it could happen in the future. Not when her skin still felt so hot just thinking about it.

Maybe later one of their teammates would talk to him about the way he'd asked her. Maybe he would then realize that she had agreed to both scenarios. The idea was exciting, but Haven didn't put any bets on it. If she wanted it to happen, she'd have to get it for herself. Just like she had with plenty of others.

---

[Hound55]

Another perfect still night. Barely a cloud over Darwin.

Banjo sat out with his waterbottle under the stars. He swore he'd never get tired of this. The endless cosmos spread forth before him on another impeccably clear night.

He took a gulp of water, air sucked into his bottle.

The shuffling of feet in the dirt and dust.

"You again." Banjo called back without turning around.

"Me again." Mamili confirmed.

"Come to remind me of some more differences betwee--"

"Naaah. Nah. Been thinkin' 'bout what you showed me. Got someone you should meet. Uncle."

"The footy player?" Mamili's uncle had played in the AFL, a legend of the game in fact, he had a cousin who was currently playing there as well.

"What--? No. Why would it be him? I have more than one uncle." He instantly regretted saying this and dropped his head, before getting defensive and raising a finger at Banjo to get on the front foot. "Don't-- make this a race thing about the size of my family."

"I didn't say a word. The only uncle of yours I've ever heard anybody say anything about was the footy player. I assumed."

"Technically this guy's like a second cousin, or second uncle removed a couple times, something like that. Still call him 'uncle'."

Banjo took another swig from his water bottle.

"I said don't make it a--"

"I didn't say a thing."

"Well, alright then."

"..."

"You two might have... somethin' in common."

"So when's this joker gunna be here, or do I have to go to him?"

"Told him about you. He can be here tomorrow."

"You told h--" Banjo scowled at the breach of trust.

"I did. Relax. He'd no more tell your story, than sell out his own."

"So you're sayin' he's a--"

"Yup."

"I'm not lookin' to join some kind of club. You get that right? We don't go kickin' 'round swappin' literatu--"

"He's interested in meetin' you if nothin' else."

Perfect... if nothing else there's too many people 'interested in meeting' me already.

"We'll probably have to move a bit further away, but." Mamili said, looking back at how close they were to the boarding dorms and the rest of the school grounds. "But he likes lookin' at the stars as well..."

^{________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

_{Location: Haileybury Rendall School, Darwin - Past, The Southern Plateau, Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean - Present}

Welcome Home #1.064: Hard Yakka and Hard yakking

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_{Interaction(s): Calliope - @PatientBean, Rory - @webboysurf, Haven - @Skai, Tad and Robert - NPCs}

Previously: Invasion Day

Banjo and Calliope sat in silence for the trip in one of the minotaurs. In front of them, Rory had his head hanging out like a dog all the way. The silence was palpable. He took Calli's hand and gave it a squeeze, she held it and returned it in kind to show it wasn't him, but a few minutes later released his hand. Clearly deep in thought, and with plenty to think about he didn't push the issue. They heard the cliffs scream their typical banshee song as they drove ever closer to the Plateau. An effect of their design at the hands of some Hyperhuman he may or may not have been told about years earlier. As the car slowed, Rory burst forth practically before the vehicle had pulled up to a complete stop.

"Geez, he's like a bloody kelpie, ain't he? Where's he off to?"

Rory had rushed up and grabbed one of the tents and was racing off to some distant bare patch away from the rest.

"Yo, lovebirds... picked out a nice spot for ya. Try not to keep us up all night!"

Haven let out a laugh. Banjo rolled his head over to turn to Calliope.

"Y'know, this is what happens when you let these drongos know we might be interested in startin' a family together..."

"We might?" Catching his phrasing, and hoping that maybe she could perhaps nudge it to an even more solid position.

"We might." He replied with a warm smile. Letting her know they were both on the same page.

"If anyone knows how garbage family can be - someone who's actually gunna be driven to do it right. It's you and me, hun. No half measures. Thing about startin' my own solo practice, I'd be able to control my own hours. When it comes time. It's time. Shutter it short-term. Hell, I could probably get JP Qual or the equivalent and work as a notary public from home lookin' after the little tackers. Have pimple faced teens come in lookin' for me to sign stat decs so they can get work."

"You wouldn't get bored?"

"Oh, I'd go absolutely barmy." He grinned. "But I'd do it. Our kids would be so sick of dear old Dad they'd be beggin' me to stay out of their lives." He winked at her.

"I'm not going to be one of those moms that works too much either though. We're both in."

He gave her a quick peck which threatened to turn into something longer, before separating.

"But anyway, speakin' of the kids..." He rolled his eyes at the mob outside the car, and got out of the minotaur.

Just in time to hear Rory propositioning Haven.

"So, Barnes... you want to sleep together tonight?"

Banjo's neck straightened.

Bold. OK. Fair enough. If it were anybody else, I'd suspect it was that Assembly and the whole 'Final year, better act now' of it all. But I'm pretty sure that's Rory just Rorying.

As Haven agreed.

Ok. Now THAT was the 'Final year, better act now' of it all.

There was a silence between the two which seemed comfortable between the pair, but excruciating for Banjo the bystander. He could have sworn he just saw Haven flush. He felt happy for her, but figured he should take the pressure off her before that's where the eyes went. He also didn't particularly want to think about the visual he was now getting, for someone he pretty much viewed as the sister he never had. Besides, Rory bein' Rory, he probably had no clue what he just accomplished.

"Oi! Tyler! Move your bloody tent!" He hollered, jerking a thumb at where he'd put 'their own' tent. Before emitting his familiar cackle of laughter. Moving on towards the awaiting construction site where they were to go to work.

Now if he couldn't figure that one out, he didn't know what it was gonna take.

A bouncy-haired Faculty Representative called out to them.

"Come on, guys! Stop goofing off, we need to--"

"Shut up, Tad. You're not my supervis--hfft" Banjo started before walking into a tree trunk.

...he looked up, rubbing his chest after knocking the wind out of himself, and saw the tree trunk was a very large, barrel-chested hyperhuman.

"Hey-Zeus bloody Crisp!" He whistled, taking in the man's full height. "When the good Lord made you he didn't bloody stop for smoko, did he eh?"

"This bloke." He said, pointing up at him. Trying to salvage some small patch of dignity from the situation. "This bloke here's my supervisor. Too many foremen, Tad, and all-a that."

"Little man, I am not your supervisor." Robert replied, looking down at the much smaller student before using one of his large hands to move Banjo out of his personal space. "Thaddeus is your supervisor. I am a coordinator. If you can not respect the chain of command, I will not have you on my construction site."

"And now you've met Banjo..." The Faculty Representative said to Robert.

"He should perhaps worry more about using his eyes instead of devoting so much energy to his mouth."

"I wouldn't say it's 'chain of command' specifically which I find difficult to respect." He replied with a screw-face, considering Tad.

He turned his head, as if considering from multiple different angles.

"And my eyes aren't helpin' that any."

"But... we've all got our challenges. So, where am I goin'?" He asked the colossal coordinator.

"I'm not a man like you who enjoys the sound of my own voice. I have already stated that Thaddeus is your supervisor. All instructions were doled out to him. If you are in fact interested in being helpful, I suggest you politely ask Thaddeus for your assignment."

Banjo considered this for half a moment, before turning to the Faculty Representative, a large shit-eating grin on his face as he decided how he was going to phrase this.

"Fair enough. Tad. Where'd the man here say he wanted you to tell me where to go?"

"You'll be working alongside Katja helping erect the foundation." Tad replied, "I have a feeling she's got a better handle on this, so I'd defer to her and please do try to follow the plans as they are. Those are what was stress tested and signed off on."

Banjo wandered off in that direction whistling 'Working Class Man', suitably happy with how the conversation had gone.

As Banjo walked away, Robert turned to Banjo one last time.

"This Banjo, he is like a rodent, no?" Robert asked, "Small, often unwanted and finds any gap he can exploit."

"That's apt."

"You need to be firm with such bilge rats." Robert stated. "Even after the ship sinks, he'd find a way to float while the rest of you are left to drown."

"I'd check your tent before going to bed tonight after that." Tad smirked.

"Thaddeus, do yo truly think there's a tent on this island that is big enough for me." Robert replied, shaking his head. "And people used to say you were smart."

As Banjo made his way to the construction site whistling merrily, Haven fluttered down beside and kept pace walking along side of him.

"Hey, Banjo, mind if we chat?"

"Didn't know birds like Barnesy..." He stopped whistling to say. "Besides, there's no bloody need. I'd say you handled that perfectly, far as I saw. I got no notes." He stopped whistling and started singing along to AC/DC's 'Shook Me All Night Long' instead.

Haven stopped in her tracks and grinned, shaking her head, he didn't turn to check if she flushed red. He was happy enough with the response he got. A few seconds later she caught up again and told him.

"I have that covered. This is about this morning. About the ceremony."

He cocked an eyebrow and slightly turned his head to face.

"I'm listening..."

[Qia]

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_{Location: Southern Plateau - Pacific Royal Campus}

Welcome Home #1.065: Target Sighted

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_{Interaction(s):Katja-@Zoldyck,Gill-@Roman}

Previously: The Burden With Dreams

As Katja and Harper set off from the dorms, it quickly became apparent that her bulky friend might possess a hidden talent for foresight, for Harper found herself trailing in the wake of the blonde’s swift strides. The distance between them grew, despite Harper’s determined efforts, and with each passing second, the inevitability of Katja’s victory became clearer the closer the two got to the Minotaur.

After crossing their imagined finish line, Harper, panting and trying to catch her breath, fought to keep her competitive spirit in check. The urge to let disappointment show was strong—after all, she shared Katja’s distaste for defeat. Yet, in the face of Katja’s exuberant cheer, Harper managed a smile, albeit a slightly strained one.

At least there was no longer a focus on their previous discussion. The other girl had thankfully taken the bait.

“Nice one. But next time I’m setting some terms,”Harper managed to say between breaths, her tone light, conceding this round but already plotting the next for another time.

---

As the group arrived at their destination, the sun had climbed to its peak, casting a radiant glow over the grounds below. Harper, now donned in athletic gear, was the epitome of preparedness for the day’s events. Her ensemble, a pair of breezy running shorts paired with a moisture-wicking tee, was meticulously chosen to combat the midday heat. A lightweight pullover was knotted around her waist as well, just in case she needed a shield from an unexpected chill that was so common on Canadian soil. Her immaculate white sneakers, now the focus of her attention, were being laced up meticulously as she stretched her legs, easing the stiffness from the journey.

With her sneakers laced snugly, Harper allowed her attention to sweep over the grand vista that stretched out from the plateau’s brink. The edge served as a threshold to a majestic view, where the earth tenderly sloped down to meet the sea’s embrace. Below, the ocean’s waves danced rhythmically against the jagged shoreline, each surge catching and refracting the sunlight in a brilliant spectacle. The distant mountains, shrouded in a cloak of mist, stood as silent custodians over the peaceful expanse unfurling beneath them. The plateau, overall, seemed a bastion of serenity, its air pure and invigorating—a stark contrast to the relentless pace and pressures of Harper’s current life at school.

Here, the world seemed to pause, the only sounds being the symphony of crashing waves and the whisper of the sea breeze. Harper’s heart matched the tranquil cadence, her worries dissolving into the ether, replaced by a newfound sense of peace and clarity.

“Perfect,”she whispered to herself, a sense of contentment washing over her as she ventured deeper into the campsite with the others. Harper’s eyes soon found a familiar silhouette, marked by light brown hair and distinctive wings—a sight that brought an involuntary, albeit awkward, smile to her lips. It was Haven, and despite their recent encounter, the warmth of recognition was undeniable. Harper could sense a mutual understanding in Haven’s returned gesture, a silent acknowledgment of shared sentiments.

She still hadn’t quite figured out how to address her new concerns to her. If anything, if she were to be more honest with herself, she was delaying the whole thing.

"Grab a tent, guys. We meet up with Tad and the trial's build organizer once you're ready."

Heeding Haven’s instruction, Harper approached a tent nestled among its twins, its canvas flaps beckoning. She deposited her backpack, a treasure trove of essentials and personal items to be sorted later. But there was a pressing matter at hand, one that seemed trivial to others but monumental to her—a choice of a bunkmate.

The previous year, the decision had been practically made for her. Aurora, with her easy smile and open nature, had offered to share her space. It was an act of kindness that had blossomed into a friendship, born from whispered confidences and shared laughter in the quiet of the night. Harper had been compelled to interact, to engage in a way that was foreign to her then.

Reflecting on those days, she marvelled at the transformation within herself. The introversion that once cloaked her like a second skin had shed, revealing a more assertive, self-assured individual. The change was profound, and as she stood there, contemplating her next move, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in the person she had become.

What’s more, were the other friendships she’d managed to develop throughout her starting year with so many different personality types. From the ever-naive and clumsy Lorcán to the simple-minded but kind-hearted Rory.

As if summoned by her musings, Rory’s voice sliced through her reverie, his words a blend of cheekiness and innocence that was his trademark. The question out of his mouth though, which was directed at her winged teammate, was audacious enough to paint Harper’s cheeks with a shade of crimson.

"So, Barnes... you want to sleep together tonight?"

Rory’s words, brazen and unfiltered, floated in the air, turning heads and drawing a spectrum of reactions, including her own.

Harper’s eyes, now sharp as a hawk’s, turned to Haven, eager to gauge her response. Initially, shock registered on Haven’s face, her eyebrows arching high in a mix of astonishment and bewilderment. It was the kind of boldness that, broadcasted so openly, could stir a buzz of whispers. Yet, as moments passed, Haven’s expression morphed—first to understanding, then to a poised confidence. A smile, subtle but undeniable, played upon her lips.

Harper was now very intrigued. There was a nuance she had overlooked, a subtext she hadn’t deciphered. Though she couldn’t catch Haven’s reply as she allowed her ability to fade, and her principles simply forbade her from lip-reading with them, it was clear Haven wasn’t perturbed by Rory’s daring proposition.

Harper honestly admired the unguarded honesty between the both of them, their bravery in expressing emotions so openly unfamiliar to her. She yearned to muster the same courage to reveal her feelings one day. Instinctively, her gaze searched for Gil—or rather, the three iterations of him. The trio of Gils, two of them a clone with the same capacity for thought and emotion, were deep in discussion, likely dissecting the recent bold exchange.

The three Gils, identical yet distinct, had always been a source of fascination for Harper. She had kept it to herself, but even with her sharp eyesight, telling them apart was a puzzle she hadn’t quite solved. Perhaps, she mused, it was the blinding effect of Gil’s striking features that had clouded her analytical gaze that one time she had tried, driven by curiosity.

Harper’s heart skipped with the thrill of the unknown as she contemplated joining their conversation, sharing her feelings with the same openness Rory had. It was a daunting thought, but the urge to be transparent with her affection was undeniable. She found herself drawn towards the Gils, her feet moving of their own accord, only to be abruptly halted by a robust Australian shout.

"Oi! Tyler! Move your bloody tent!"

The command, laced with the distinctive twang of the Outback, jolted Harper from her thoughts. Her hands instinctively rose to shield her ears, and a frown etched itself across her features. Banjo’s boisterous interruption was ill-timed, and Harper couldn’t help but think,Did he always have to steal the spotlight? The urge to deliver a swift kick to his shins was a tempting thought too, especially since he had so rudely intruded on Rory and Haven’s intimate exchange.

Harper’s irritation was a simmering undercurrent, but she managed to quell the impulse, recognizing that her actions should be driven by composure, not frustration. With a deep breath, she refocused on her initial intent, allowing the momentary disruption to fade into the background. There were more pressing matters at hand—matters of the heart.

Harper approached the Gils with a casual grace, her hand lifting in a reserved wave that masked the flutter of excitement within her. A silent mantra played in her mind, a reminder to maintain composure and not succumb to the giddy impulses of a fangirl.

Right…what would the usual poised version of herself say at a time like this that still got her intentions across?

Harper steadied her nerves as the collective gaze of the Gils settled on her, a trio of expectant stares that could easily unnerve.“So…”she ventured, her voice a careful blend of nonchalance and mischief,"I’m considering a play from Rory’s handbook… touché?”The smirk that played on her lips then was both a shield and a signal.“Respectfully,” she hastened to add, the smirk now blossoming into a full-fledged grin. A moment lingered, heavy with anticipation, before she delivered the punchline, “In separate cots, of course. For decency’s sake.”

[Garden Gnome]

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_{Location: Her Room -> The Mess Hall -> Chimera's Lair -> Southern Plateau ( Pacific Royal Campus )}

Welcome Home #1.066: Finding strength in being alone

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_{Interaction(s): Rory Tyler @Webboysurf}

Previously: Not a Joke

As the trumpets sounded announcing the sign of another new day, Mei got ready for the day ahead. This would no doubt be another day filled with challenges and she needed to prepare herself both mentally and physically for anything that stood in her way. For that she required plenty of energy, both for her own mental processing as well as to fuel her caloric intake for the maintenance and upkeep of her powers.

Dressing in her neatly ironed and pressed uniform, she made her way to the mess hell, not just by walking, but by swinging on her web rope chains through the heights of the university campus.The breeze as she swing in the air brought her happiness and she would take any happiness that would come her way. She knew that either Rory or Haven would no doubt do something that worked against her favour and was already expecting to happen at some point of the day. One would often wonder how she was able to ensure such punishments over the years dished out by Rory, and many would have abandoned such chances and sought out something else long ago, but Mei still clung on, for some unfathomable reason. There was a limit to her bountiful patience and it would eventually run out one day, and many would think that it would be reaching ever closer as the days, weeks, months and years passed.

Mei herself felt the pull and tension of her patience tugged at her and tried to resist the desire to give up, especially considering that Rory had both done and said things of intimacy to Haven and he had never done with her. Many would have taken that as a sign to move on, but Mei’s stubbornness had allowed her to persist this long. Perhaps, the time for her to move on was indeed finally on her horizon. After all these years, there was no one who could say she did not try hard enough or even put enough effort into the chase. At the mess hall, she piled up plates full of rashers of bacon, croissants and other delectable treats with a meal size resembling something of a size that her fellow teammates Katja would eat. Her unique physiology allowed her to consume such large amounts of food without ballooning in shape, her metabolism working tirelessly to convert the food into energy pockets in her body.

Everyone then began to pile into Chimera’s Lair and Mei followed the rest of the group into their seats in the stadium. The anthem was sung and then came the speech by Jim and the new visitors. Mei didn’t care much about the Alexandria Foundation, but knew enough of them to know that they would be a problem. Then came the announcement that the accreditation of engineering, law and medical fields would be lost, and once again Mei felt the all powerful intuition of Asian parents swooping in to save the day. She had fought with her parents endlessly over her major of choice, but in the end, it was her who relented in the end, no match for the relentless might of the all-powerful Asian parents.

While others would push their children to pursue science, law or medical fields, her parents instead pushed her to embark on a culinary path to take over the family business. That decision then, to major in culinary arts instead of aerospace engineering had saved her from the predicament many of her fellow teammates and students faced now. While she observed the strong reactions of her teammates around her, she said nothing. She knew that they would have been affected by the new changes this would bring, and said nothing to make it worse.

As the team proceeded to the plateau and began setting up their tents, Mei had her eyes on both Rory and Haven the whole time, monitoring the actions and movements of the pair. The moment Rory made his move to walk towards Haven, she promptly moved close enough within earshot of the pair. When he popped the question, Mei acted in calming anger, using her enhanced reflexes to shoot out several bursts of silk webbing towards Rory’s ankles and feet, aiming to bind them together to trip him once he moved. She did it so quickly in the hopes of remaining undetected. She then moved towards him and thrusted the handmade silk knitted towel that she had finally completed, the words “Not a Joke” clearly visible on the main surface of the towel. “Here, a hand knitted towel made by yours truly.”

Without looking back to see Rory’s reaction, she headed towards an unoccupied spot on the plateau and began setting up her own tent, settling on the fact that she would be sleeping alone.

[Rockette]

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_{Location: Southern Plateau - Pacific Royal Campus}

Welcome Home #1.067: purgatory.

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_{Interaction(s): &&}

Previously: immortal.

She does the only thing she knows how to do when everything just becomes too much. When the voices in her head ping and scream and wail and the cries of a banshee shatter betwixt her waking world -- within and without. When everything crests over the veneer she has locked in place [the lie, the mask, the glare and bite and blood of anger washing over her teeth] the fissures of a girl lost and toiling beneath the exteriors of a vain creature that lashes out at the sky. The world. Everything.

She destroys.

From stadium to dorm room, she walks a path alone and forsaken, marked and marred by coils of red and silver and plumes of black that rots the air feathered through her lungs. It is woven deep into blood and bone and disfigures her pale skin in lines of black and gray. The scars laden beneath every flightless bird and coiled snake, those bright and striking moths, the abstract profiles and the skulls gaped wide in silent screams. Each a tale. Each a story. Each a reminder and each a sin.

And when she finally makes it back there to her room, it all stops.

Within her grasp, the box is nothing but ashes and within it --

-- her old uniform.

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Everything is new to her: these trials and ceremonies, and despite the introduction of the Alexandria Foundation onto their proverbial doorstep, this united front was nothing if not steeped into tradition. It's admirable, she supposes, or perhaps sheer stubbornness which drapes the entirety of the island in sheer abundance. Amma plucks at all the black and Gulo yellow on her person; her hooded jacket gaped at her front where her inked and exposed midriff flexes with every shuddering breath; shorts clinging to her inked thighs and sneaker clad feet in black kicking up rock and dirt when she exits the Minotaur carrier. In her detached musings, she claws through her ebony hair, half up and half down whilst wisps and curls frame her critical gaze distant and lost. Amma is silent, as is her eternal renown, for there are little words to be spared and said and what mindless conversation was there that she could offer was bartered for contemplation. In hindsight, she knew the moment she left those pyramids within the sea, she would never be truly bereft of those chains and whips and the muzzling of her powers to condition her self to be all withstanding to hardship.

She knew in her nightmares, just as she knew in her dreams, of every damning lance and every peeling of flesh and manipulation of bone. Every stitch and every time someone held her close and held her down. From the screaming faces lost in shadow as she lost control -- to the hand offered to a little girl barely thirteen.

"Hey, what's your name?"

Her eyes drift, half-lidded, melancholic delicacy laced across her expression before she slips her scarred fingers into the pockets of her jacket, back heavy with supplies and aimlessly chooses a tent for her belongings. This one situated closest to the cliffs, something of a preference drawing her near. The plateau, if anything, is a secondary favorite next to the beach where she often wonders. Those sloped edges bleached by sun and salt, craggy faces eroded by time and pocketed in shadowy recesses where flora and fauna remain. Amma is tempted to the edge, the roar of the surf that crests over the spires of rock below in tandem with the roaring lodged into the deepest edges of her mind.

Somewhere at her back, others whisper of potential bunkmates and she glances to the cot lain there, cares little for it [she doesn't sleep much these days] and shrugs around the unlikelihood that any member of Blackjack is going to inquire about sharing quarters with her. Katja, maybe, but if the utterances of co-ed arrangements was an actual chance rather than speculation. Well, maybe not.

She had proven her unwillingness to befriend anyone aside of knowing their names, their powers -- their dreams, she remembers -- and has left it as such. Never mind Katja's many attempts to coax Amma from yonder the chasm she has built around herself.

She is nothing but the void and she will keep it that way.

Amma vaguely catches the information provided about their directive and aimlessly changes direction to the field. The idea of building anything is a foreign concept, the idea of being trusted with such a task even more so. But, it is a part she is to play in the inevitability of failure as they cling to their traditions, for Amma cannot forget or forgive the gift she has been given by those threatening to unravel this heritage at its core. She thinks, was it irony that saw the the material indestructible? For she had sunk nail deep and true and could not pry apart the chain and latex and lace, even the delicate gossamer had mocked her with the fragility of its make.

So, Torres wanted Tiamat.
And Amma was going to give it to her.

Her arched brows plummet low in thought, lashes framed around an ethereal glow that emphasizes the planes of her countenance drawn into a frown. They made and conditioned that beast within, all the destruction she bore and wrought, all of the endless nights gushing in red. The welcoming bliss of nihilism every time she sunk into that epitaph that sired a creature of cruelty.

She wasn't always this way. But how does one even cleanse that much taint and ruin? Where does one even begin. Where is the line drawn in the sand of both human and monster, the concept of the soul and heart, she thinks, but did she even have one anymore?

Amma Cahors closes her eyes. Soft and swift, she bows her head and palms away the ache settled at her crown, nails raked against her temples to dispel the doubt she has nurtured and when she opens her eyes once more, a beauty of deadly intent - purpose - glares back.

She is at the field soon enough and approaches perhaps the first person that had genuinely welcomed her to the island. The first name she had learned and the one who saw her as a student rather than what she was: Thaddeus. In that, he is perhaps the only one Amma has ever acknowledged with a slight cant of her head, one that remains tilted just so with her eyes panning down the gargantuan man beside him. Somewhere in those depths of blue, femme appreciation flickers.

"Tad, and..." Amma pauses, deliberate, an inquiry hovering there. "Not sure what I'm doing here, honestly." With a breath she crosses both arms, weight rolled to one heel whilst she sighs.

"But, none the less. I am. So - instructions?"

"Oh Amma, right," Tad replied rubbing the back of his head. "I forgot you joined after the Trials last year. This is a bit of an annual tradition to welcome students back and induct the new students in a House. Teams like Blackjack compete for the best time in the Trial and then individual performance and contributions are used to send students invitations to at least two school houses." He explained before gesturing to the looming man beside him.

"This is Robert Arkwright, he's this year's coordinator and architect for the Trial."

"Au chanté, mademoiselle." Robert replied bowing his head towards Amma.

"C'est pour moi un plaisir, Robert." A grin blooms across her cheeks, teeth and all, paired with a subtle bite colored in mild surprise.

"Robert has asked me to pair you with Rory and Lorcán. You three will be helping with the structural component of the build."

At the mention of both Rory and Lorcán though, her smile falters, softly edging away into a peculiar grimace.
"I... see." A panning look over her shoulder, she sees the former and not the latter and it is that realization that makes Amma suddenly hyperaware of her surroundings. Scarlet flame and crimson power coil and collide within her mind, those molten eyes haunting and memorizing in their wake.

"What does that mean... structural." She mutters, witnessing the incident of feminine energies colliding in the distance, the not so subtle displays projected by Mei and Haven; Rory as the epicenter of their combating desires. It would appear that the theory of competition had begun here already and she can't help but reflect on contests she had competed in. If those moments of contention could even be called such a thing. Amma would refer to them as executions for all the madness that compounded them.

Best to leave that alone, she thinks and sways back on her heels.

"All right then. Thank you, Tad." Amma winds a lock of black around her finger, and says: "Au revoir, Robert." Her goodbye purred around his name before bell-like laughter drips off her tongue, her figure waltzing away further into the field.

[webboysurf]

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_{Location: Southern Plateau - Pacific Royal Campus}

Welcome Home #1.068: Tired of Tripping on my Shoes

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_{Interaction(s): Mei - @Garden Gnome}

Previously: We get by Just Fine

Rory's eyes watched Haven carefully, clocking the tensing of muscles as she took a moment to respond. She had taken a step closer, smiled at him, and responded. Her voice was, for lack of a better word, sultry. It almost felt like a whisper, or an invitation. But that didn't make sense... he had asked her. He was getting used to knowing when he had missed something: a reference, innuendo, obvious subtext, or a classic "Rory" phrased sentence. She didn't seem to be referencing anything, 'sure' didn't seem to have any sexual connotations, and there didn't seem to be anything obvious unsaid. This left the obvious problem being a poorly phrased question. Though, what could possibly have been misinterpreted? He asked if she wanted to sleep together. Classic sleepover, nothing weird there. Except... maybe there was something about the together part...

Haven had flown off to have a talk with Banjo, leaving Rory motionless trying to put together the pieces. He sighed, resolving to ask Lorcan about it. He was pleasantly surprised when he saw Mei's approach, his smile instinctively widening as he locked eyes with her. “Here, a hand knitted towel made by yours truly.” She had thrust the towel into his chest, reaching up to grab hold of it before she turned around to walk away. He looked at the towel, reading the stitching briefly.

"Wow... thanks, uh... wait, Mei, does this-" Rory tried to lift one leg up and reached a hand out to stop her, only to feel unexpected resistance. He had leaned his torso forward, but his legs remained stuck together. He tipped over, falling face first into the dirt. He had managed to lift his arms to protect his head out of pure instinct, a protective measure trained from years of being tackled by his favorite 7ft tall blonde athlete. Once prone, Rory flipped himself into his back to examine what had happened to his legs. He was a bit surprised to recognize the strands of silk that had practically glued his pant legs together. He looked up to where Mei had stormed off to. Judging by that reaction, he had royally fucked up.

Rory weighed his options. On the one hand, he could probably fetch his keys from the bag lying next to him and try to saw at the webbing... but that would take time. The other options was... well, a bit more bold. Rory kicked off his shoes and shimmied his way out of his PT sweatpants. He was left in only his black t-shirt, a pair of light gray boxer briefs, tube socks, and not even an ounce of dignity. Now free of his web-trappings and suitably covered in a fine coating of dirt, Rory darted after Mei with the towel in hand.

"Mei, wait! I'm sorry." He slowed to a stop as he approached, pointing to the towel he was holding. "I... uhh... look, can we talk for a second? I owe you an apology and an answer, if you want."

Mei could hear the owner of the familiar voice coming from outside of her tent. She hadn't expected Rory to come after her like that. Perhaps, there was more hope to this then she realised. "Hey Rory. I see you got yourself out of a sticky situation. I'm just setting up my tent to sleep on my own, but otherwise I'm free to talk. Go ahead."

Rory stared at Mei for a moment, processing her joke, before simply shaking his head and stifling a laugh. As he looked down, he winced at the realization he had left his pants behind. He had dreams about this. He paused, composing himself, before looking back up towards Mei. "I'm sorry I... well, thought you were joking. At the beach. I was a bit flustered, with the whole thing with Ro and the dance. And I never would have expected you to ask me to the dance. So I misunderstood what you were saying. I got in my own head. And I'm sorry for that."

Mei stared at Rory as he laughed at her silly attempt of a joke. She didn’t know if he really found it funny or he was just laughing to lower the tension in her tent. For her own sake, she decided to believe the former reasoning. Anything good that Rory gave her she would take. who knows when she would ever get it again? She wasn’t like Haven who received good signs of intimacy and actions given to her even without trying.

“Well, I hope it is abundantly clear to you now. I would never joke about such things. Should you ever forget, feel free to refer to the towel at any time. Hopedully that will jolt your memory back to remembering.”

Rory nodded, flashing a small smile as he looked at the towel. It still didn't make sense to him, why she was always this kind to him. "I appreciate it." He paused for a moment, taking the time to fold up the towel before looking back to Mei. "As for an answer... I would like to go to the dance. With you. If you still want to go with me, that is." He felt a sudden wave of embarrassment flood into his cheeks, but he held his ground as he looked towards Mei.

As Mei heard Rory's words, every part of her wanted to yell "YES" out loud without hesitation, and it took an enormous amount of willpower for her to resist herself from doing so as soon as the words left his mouth. She decided that him waiting for a minimum of a few minutes in silence would be payment for what he had done to her on the beach and earlier in the plateau.

After leaving Rory hanging in silence for a few minutes, internally dreading every single minute that she put both of them through, afraid that he might reconsider, Mei answered him. "You sure?" Not giving him any chance to respond, she continued immediately. "Of course, you're sure! Who else would you go with? I'll go with you, no further thought necessary." The more opportunities she gave him to not think about Haven, the better she would fare.

Rory's smile involuntarily widened, and he nodded in response to Mei's acceptance. Everything was finally coming up Rory. He ignored the small part of his brain telling him this was too good to be true. He turned around, back towards the rest of the camp, grinning like the idiot he was. He walked back towards the bag, pants, and shoes he left in the middle of everything. He scrambled to pick them up and scurried into his and Haven's tent to change.

As much as part of him knew some of the others would prefer he ran around all day in his underwear, he changed into a spare pair of shorts to get ready for his work assignment.

[Lord Wraith]

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

“I don’t think-” Lorcán gathered his thoughts while they walked through the campus. His ember-like eyes danced around observing the students in their hushed groups. Everyone was on edge after the ceremony.

“Things might be choppy right now lady dude, but I don’t think we’ll just let them take over.” He finally responded. “If the school didn’t go down for that kook, Hyperion, it’s not going for these junkyard dogs. I can’t see my ‘rents bailing on us or P.R.C.U. for that grommet. No, I think they’re playing the long con, H.E.L.P. is going to go new school on this one and wow us all before the sun sets on this year.

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

“It’s okay to be clucked,” Lorcán smiled reassuringly, “I think we’re all clucked in some way dude, everyone is afraid of being raked over by this. I know I am, before this mornin’ I was totally shaked for this year.”

“I really thought it was going to be ricos this year,” He wistfully muttered looking towards the looming clouds in the sky above the campus. “Looks like we’re really going to get worked though, but I think we’ll come through the otherside.” He smiled, wrapping an arm around Aurora and giving her a squeeze.

The redhead nodded, knowing that Lorcán spoke truthfully; sure, it might be rocky, it definitely would not be perfect, but they’d be okay in the end. Most importantly, they had each other.

Well… at least until graduation.

But Aurora didn’t want to think about that, not right now. They still had plenty of time together before she had to come to terms with him leaving the Island, potentially for good.

“Besides, nothing will ever change between us.” Pointing his chin towards the Myotis dorm in front of them, he spoke again.

“This is your stop, brah. I’ll grab my stuff and meet you back in her in ten to fifteen then?”

Aurora chose not to dwell on his words, responding with a simple nod while taking them at face value and not thinking through the subtext that riddled her mind.

“Yeah, sounds good. I’ll be quick,” She replied through a forced smile, hoping he wouldn’t think anything of it, before taking a breath, clearing her mind, and vanishing into thin air.

“So rad,” Lorcán muttered while reaching out to where Aurora had been only seconds ago. He suddenly found himself missing her presence, a cold Easterly wind blowing across campus sent a shiver through his spine.

The weather had been this way exactly five years ago.

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_{Location: University Dormitories - Pacific Royal Campus}

Welcome Home #1.069: I've Been Talking With A Ghost

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_{Interaction(s): @Melissa - Aurora Mitchell}

Previously: Not Myself Today

Walking the short distance to the Canis dorm, Lorcán entered the building before making his way to his and Rory’s dormitory on the second floor. Opening the door to his bedroom from the shared living space, Lorcán froze in the doorway as he was greeted by a bald finely dressed man sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Jonas!?” Lorcán exclaimed entering the room, “But you’re de-”

“Yes,” Jonas replied, polishing his glasses as he stood up from the edge of the bed. “I had gathered I was already dead at this point in time. Pity, look at you all grown up.”

Jonas clapped Lorcán on his shoulders before gesturing for him to take a seat.

“You’re a spitting image of your father by the time he was this age, what are you now, nineteen?”

“Twenty-one actually,”

“Twenty-one, what an age. Have you and the lovely Miss A begun dating yet?” Jonas asked with his usual all-knowing twinkle in his eye.

“No, not yet at least,” Lorcán replied while rubbing the back of his head. “Are you, like a ghost or something?”

A hearty laugh filled the room, putting Lorcán somewhat more at ease but he was still suspicious as he studied the older man. He looked like Jonas, he sounded like Jonas, he even smelled like Jonas. The woody cologne with notes of tobacco leaf and vanilla hung in the stagnant air of the boys’ dorm.

“No, I assure you I am most corporeal,” Jonas replied while squeezing Lorcán’s shoulder. “I just don’t simply experience life quite as linearly as you do.” He explained though the vagueness of his phrasing left Lorcán with far more questions than he initially had.

“Tell me, my boy, what has happened on campus to have everyone in such an uproar? Even in you, behind your calm demeanour, I see the anger and hurt.”

“We totally lost our accreditation to basically all, the like, major programs. Pretty much means everything I’ve worked so hard for is absolutely bunked. Y’know, kinda feels like home is a bit of a prison.”

“After Crestwood Hollow, your father and his peers felt much the same way. They were outcasts, outed by their abilities, expelled from their school with nowhere to go in the world.”

“But they had you and then you made P.R.C.U.”

“That’s an oversimplification of events, but yes,” Jonas replied. “The point I’m trying to make is that sometimes, what looks like starting over is the beginning of something better. This school is a building, but its ideals are transferable. Just because someone else is taking the building doesn’t mean they get to crush its ideals.”

“But how am I supposed to make a difference out there without a degree?”

“Do you truly think it was the degree that was going to make the difference?” The older man asked with a sympathetic smile. “Come now, child. You’re wiser than that. The community here is what prepared you to make a difference. We created something here the world can only aspire to.”

“A place to go for those who had nowhere.” Jonas nodded as Lorcán responded before expounding further.

“More importantly a place where everyone belonged and mattered. That’s why we have the teams and the houses. We wanted to show how similar people could work together and how circumstance and adversity could be overcome. The uniforms serve to remind us that we are all Hyperhumans who are not only wanting, but also deserving of the same treatment and respect.”

Leaning back, Jonas crossed his legs before reclining slightly more.

“Many years ago, I had the opportunity to meet with Nakamura Yoshi, he wanted the school then as much as he seemingly does now. He’s an ambitious man, but not malicious. I suspect that if the loss of the school’s accreditation is linked to the Foundation, then it was not Nakamura who orchestrated it. There may be turmoil even within the Foundation’s ranks.”

“Was Kowalski also just ambitious?”

The question hung in the air for an uncomfortably long moment before Jonas replied.

“Yakob coveted power, a trait I let my love and admiration for him blind me to.”

“If you know he’s Hyperion, why can’t you just stop him?” Lorcán asked, “Like, you’re going to go back in time aren’t you?”

“I’m afraid it just doesn’t work like that, Yakob and Miss Carlyle are most diligent in ensuring that any knowledge I have of the future is not used to change the past.” Jonas pinched his brow before gently massaging it.

“In hindsight, it’s now glaringly obvious why.”

“So?” Lorcán retorted, “Go back, don’t play by their rules. You can stop all of this from happening.”

“My dear boy,” Jonas replied sympathetically, “I wish I could spare you this pain, but I am not a god nor will I play one. Things are already set in motion which cannot be undone.”

As he spoke, his hand brushed against the pocket of his blazer.

“Speaking of, I need to give you this.” Reaching out, Jonas deposited a small object into the palm of Lorcán’s hand.

“Consider it a belated eighteenth birthday gift. I know it’ll serve you well”

The object was warm to the touch, obsidian in colour and seemingly pulsed as Lorcán moved his thumb over its near frictionless surface. It would have appeared as stone if it wasn't vaguely metallic.

“What is this?”

Jonas suddenly clutched a hand to his chest, his entire going out of focus for a split moment.

“It has been wonderful to catch up, my boy, but I’m afraid this is my stop.”

“Jonas!” Lorcán yelled but he was gone. _{“Wait…”} He added meekly before sitting back down in the room alone again. Looking at the strange object in his hand, Lorcán turned it over once more before pocketing it. He sat there for a moment, taking in everything that had just happened before jumping to his feet.

Aurora!

Lorcán must have been gone far longer than he told Aurora he would be. She’d probably be wondering where he was, or worse assume he had fallen down the stairs and hurt himself.

Again.

^{__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

Flying out the door of the Canis Dormitories, Lorcán practically tripped down the stairs before running face-first into another male of similar height. Bouncing off the chest of the other individual, Lorcán tripped backwards before firmly landing on the ground with a familiar dull thud.

“Ow,” He muttered aloud before looking up and seeing the familiar face looking down at him. “Oh, my bad, Dad.”

Aiden Roth extended a hand towards his son, helping Lorcán to his feet.

“I’m glad I ran into you, though admittedly, I was looking for Rory.”

“He wasn’t upstairs, so I imagine bro’s already headed for the Plateau.”

“I’ll fire him an email later then,” Aiden replied before setting his keen eyes on his son, “How are you doing, y’know with everything from this morning? I wish I could have warned you but it seems it was sprung even on O’Neil. We only found out moments before the ceremony.”

“I spoke with Jonas.” Lorcán watched his father’s expression as he continued to speak. “Just now, upstairs.”

“I see,” Aiden spoke softly, choosing his next words carefully, “He always considered you a grandson, I’m not surprised he’d choose to visit you.”

“So you knew about the like, time-slipping?”

“Your mom and I both knew, I know Kowalski and Summer also were aware of it. They were on damage control though in hindsight-”

“You’re realizing how flawed that is?” Lorcán’s voice had a steely edge as he responded, “Jonas said the same thing.” He kicked a stray piece of gravel across the paved walkway.

“Is no one worried that Kowalski is still out there then, using Jonas’ abilities to evade capture?”

“I’d be lying if I said the thought hasn’t crossed my mind.” Aiden stated solemnly as the pair began walking in the direction of the Myotis dorm. “But Kowalski was at least limited in that he could only learn abilities he understood. Not even Jonas fully comprehended how his abilities worked. Jonas wasn’t even entirely sure he was a Hyperhuman at times. It’s unlikely that Kowalski had been able to unlock the ability to mimic Jonas’ non-linear existence.”

Silence hung between the two Roths before Aiden spoke up again.

“I don’t want this hanging over you and ruining your senior year, Jim is already meeting with the Foundation to sort out graduating degrees. Take some enjoyment from seeing Jonas again, remember he sought you out to spend what precious time he had in this moment with you.”

“Thanks, I’ll uh, try to do that.”

“Now, then,” Aiden raised an eyebrow at Lorcán, “Shouldn’t you be getting to the plateau?”

“Just picking up ‘Rora first,” Lorcán beamed motioning towards the Myotis dormitories they had stopped in front of. Aiden clapped a hand down on his son’s shoulder turning to see the familiar redheaded girl waiting for him.

“Then I won’t salt your game any further.” Aiden responded, nodding to Aurora as he waved.

“My fault he’s late, won’t happen again.” He called, winking at Lorcán before going his own way.

Watching his dad walk away, Lorcán reached into his pocket, his hand bumping up against the strange object before it pulsed from his touch. Shaking his head, he adjusted the backpack slung over his own shoulder before running up to Aurora.

“Hey, lady dude, sorry that took so long, we should probably hustle.” He smiled, “But I think we should still take the scenic route, I can carry that bag for you if you want?”

[PatientBean]

Calliope set foot in the office waiting area. The familiarity of it was a comfort in a way. Gladys sat at the reception desk, her computer screen reflecting off of her glasses to show she was doing today's Wordle rather than her actual job. That was a comfort also.

Calliope cleared her throat and Gladys looked up. "Oh, Calliope. I am so sorry. Lost in my own thoughts. Maybe my husband is right. Here for your appointment?" Calliope nodded and Gladys gave her a warm smile before pressing the intercom button. "Dr. Trinh? Ms. de Leon is here to see you." Calliope took a seat to wait, but the door opened quickly. An asian woman in her early 50's stepped out. "Calliope. Nice to see you. Please." Dr. Trinh gestured to her office and Calliope walked in.

Calliope took a seat on the larger couch while Dr. Trinh sat in one of the single chairs nearby. She had her clipboard in front of her, but it was more there for show. Early on in their work together, Calliope had made it known she didn't like seeing her therapist write notes directly in front of her. It made it feel clinical or like she was just another figure. So Dr. Trinh obliged her.

"So it's been a little under three weeks since we last saw each other. If you remember, we discussed trauma and its impact on present-day symptoms. Tell me, how have your panic attacks been?" Calliope clenched her fist without thinking before she remembered and unclenched it, allowing her muscles to relax. "Better. I haven't had a full episode for more than two months. Some anxiety has shown up, but nothing to lead to a panic attack." Dr. Trinh nodded. "That's good. You know the difference between anxiety and panic attacks, correct? We discussed that?"

"Anxiety attacks have no known cause to them whereas panic attacks have a known reason."

"Very good. Have any of your triggers shown up since?"

Calliope closed her eyes. Her triggers were varied, but so far she had managed to keep them at bay. "No, none. I haven't spoken to my parents in years now. And I have a good support system."

Dr. Trinh gave a small smile. "Ah yes. Your team at the school you attend. Blackjack was it? And I believe we discussed a certain young man who you've been seeing for..." She checked her notes, "Going on 5 years now. Impressive. How is all that going?"

"I feel like I belong with Blackjack. Even those I do not know very well have a part to play. And Andrew. Well he's been a rock for me. Two messed up people with messed up pasts who found each other and didn't let go. Before you ask, he knows about all of it."

"I take it he is a Hyperhuman also? Is it mutual support or do you feel you put more into the relationship than you get out. And as a reminder, if you do feel that way, it's not necessarily a bad thing."

"At first, I felt there were times I cared more, but then I felt guilty. After all, our relationship started off as a lie. I wanted something to get revenge on my father and what better way than a man who my father would probably die knowing I had been with. And a Hyperhuman like myself? But it grew more. I felt like I was being seen, not as a Senator's daughter or some Hyperhuman freakshow, but as Calliope. And ever since then he has gone above and beyond to show he cares. Sometimes I think he's too good for me and then he does some fucked up thing or says something to someone and pushes buttons and I'm reminded he's a weirdo. But he's my weirdo."

Dr. Trinh smiled more this time. "You deserve happiness Calliope, even if some days it feels like you don't. There will be moments when it seems life is throwing nonstop hurdles in front of you. Remember that even little steps towards progress is still progress. Now, let's do a free thought activity. Say the first thing that comes to your mind."

^{________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

_{Location: Southern Plateau - Pacific Royal Campus}

Welcome Home #1.70: Set The World Ablaze

^{_{____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}}

_{Interaction(s): Banjo (@Hound55), Mei (@Garden Gnome), Harper (@Qia)}

Previously: Fractured

The drive to the Tria set-up was quiet. She felt bad not speaking to Banjo, but she knew she needed time to cool off. And he at least respected that much. Still, he was a comfort. The others were in various stages of unrest or worry or downright refusal that this was happening.

Once at the Southern Plateau, they got out and began getting set up. She stayed near Banjo, not really willing to be alone just yet. Rory had all but shot out of the Minotaur like a rocket.

"Geez, he's like a bloody kelpie, ain't he? Where's he off to?"

Before Calliope could even begin to hypothesize as to Rory's intentions, Rory had taken a tent. She assumed he was getting his own set up, but apparently not.

"Yo, lovebirds... picked out a nice spot for ya. Try not to keep us up all night!"

Calliope felt her cheeks burn. It wasn't like it was a secret that her and Banjo were intimate, hell she had just said she wanted to start a family with him, but to have it so loudly broadcasted was not ideal. Still, should she be surprised that Rory opened his mouth and put his foot in?

"Y'know, this is what happens when you let these drongos know we might be interested in startin' a family together..."

"We might?" Calli had noted that Banjo had not stated one way or the other if he was actually interested in a family. In hindsight, it probably should have been a conversation they had at the beginning when things began getting serious, but perhaps it was her naivete that pushed her belief that he would want a family also. She wanted one because hers was so rotten growing up. She wanted to bring children into the world and shower them with love and acceptance for whoever they were. She assumed Banjo would want the same, but his was a hard life also. The world was difficult at the best of times.

"We might."

"If anyone knows how garbage family can be - someone who's actually gunna be driven to do it right. It's you and me, hun. No half measures. Thing about startin' my own solo practice, I'd be able to control my own hours. When it comes time. It's time. Shutter it short-term. Hell, I could probably get JP Qual or the equivalent and work as a notary public from home lookin' after the little tackers. Have pimple faced teens come in lookin' for me to sign stat decs so they can get work."

It warmed her heart that he had considered this and was willing to step up. She didn't want to put her career first while her kids existed. In a perfect world she would have an established career that allowed her the time to be a mom when she needed to be. Showing up to her children's school functions, taking part in PTA stuff, talking to her children when they had questions about life or wanted to talk about their crushes or when she would need to console them when they had their heart broken. She wanted all of it.

"You wouldn't get bored?"

"Oh, I'd go absolutely barmy." He grinned. "But I'd do it. Our kids would be so sick of dear old Dad they'd be beggin' me to stay out of their lives."

"I'm not going to be one of those moms that works too much either though. We're both in."

"But anyway, speakin' of the kids..."

Sure enough, their other "children" had all gotten out and went to their respective areas. Calliope had admittedly started to feel better about everything. So much so that when Rory spoke up. "So, Barnes... you want to sleep together tonight?"

"God, they really are like our children, aren't they?" She shook her head and left Rory and Haven to deal with whatever the hell was going on there. She walked up to Tad to find out what she would be doing.

"Calliope, Robert has you along with Harper and Mei taking care of the inner theatrics. Basically setting the tone of the Trials look nice with a theme and programming in the puzzles and obstacles for the freshmen to overcome. Based on the last few years, I think that fits squarely in your wheelhouse."

"I should be able to scrounge something nice." She tried to hide her contempt but she knew her tone didn't match her words. She was expected to make something nice for the school not letting her have a degree?

"Tone aside, I can understand being upset regarding recent events. Still, the Trials are happening whether you graduate at the end of the year or not, so why not make it something to be remembered by? Let's try to start the new students on a positive note and leave them wanting more. I'd hate to see you not only regretting but wasting your potential by not giving this a sincere try."

Calliope thought about it and knew he was right. It wouldn't serve her or anyone if the students got punished because she had a chip on her shoulder. "I hadn't thought of that. I'll get right on it." She turned, leaving Tad to dole out the others before she went in. She began brainstorming ideas but she wanted to wait for Mei and Harper to join.

Sure enough, the two girls appeared. "Hello team. Ready to brainstorm theme ideas?"

[Zoldyck]

^{________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

_{Location: Southern Plateau - Pacific Royal Campus}

Welcome Home #1.071: Zug Zug

^{_{____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}}

_{Interaction(s): Amma @Rockette}

Previously: Reality Check

The Manticores’ engines roared as they were making their slow way towards the plateau. Katja sat in the flatbed of one of the massive vehicles. In the past five years she always preferred to sit there instead of inside the motorized beasts. She always felt a bit too cramped when she took a seat in the cabin. So the truck bed, exposed to the open air, was a much better alternative for her.

Being rocked back and forth in the uneven road was almost calming to the big South African. Her mind began to drift back to the Lair and what had actually transpired there, the howling of the cliffs a background melody to her thoughts.

First and foremost, she lamented all those whose futures were now at risk. Their plans dashed by whatever cruel twist of faith -or worse, plan- that had voided PRCU’s credentials. Katja was one of the lucky ones who’s studies hadn’t been affected. But this had the effect of making her actually feel guilty, as she could go on like nothing happened while her friends just had their potential careers ripped away from them. Or at least, they would if the Foundation didn’t keep their word.

She didn’t quite know what to think of the Foundation. Katja had heard the stories of course. She’d seen Amma’s reaction to the prospect of the Foundation possibly absorbing PRCU. And their Foundation Force was used rather liberally in cracking down on Hype dissent. But on the other hand, the results spoke for themselves. The Foundation Force was celebrated even by Mundanes. Their institution wasn’t under constant pressure from the outside, perhaps due to the secrecy of their leadership which they held so dear.

Perhaps…

The sudden halt of the Manticore jerked Katja back to reality. Standing on the flatbed, she observed the familiar plateau which, even after all this time, could still give her shivers as she remembered that fatal night.

The night she fell short.

She leapt off the back of the Manticore after helping unload the supplies before then gazing over the campsite.

What she saw lightened her mood.

Despite the obvious setback from earlier in the day, it seemed like Blackjack was pulling up their bootstraps and soldiered through the negativity. Katja had been afraid that some of her teammates would grow disillusioned with their situation. And perhaps they were! But if that was the case, they certainly didn’t show it. Not now at least.

An involuntary giggle escaped her mouth as she observed Rory tripping due to Mei’s shenanigans and then going after her in his briefs. She couldn’t quite catch what they were talking about, but given how both of them seemed satisfied with the outcome of their conversation, it could only mean a handful of things. A sad smile formed on Katja’s lips as she saw the two of them part, as the realization dawned on her that whatever she felt for Rory probably wasn’t meant to be. But she was still happy for him, and whoever he would go with.

Turning her gaze away, she thought about picking a tent to house her stuff in before seeing what else she could do. But that had to wait, as she saw a pair of individuals on the edge of the campsite.

And one of them seemed to be waving at her.

“Ah, Katja!” Tad called out to her, seemingly glad to interact with anyone else beside Banjo. “Please, we have some things to discuss with you. You’re familiar with Robert, yes?”

Katja let out a short, exaggerated laugh as she got closer to the pair. “Oh, I’m familiar with him alright! Would take quite the concussion to forget the sight of this big green bastard!” She grinned as she extended her arm upwards to Robert. He laughed as he clasped it by the forearm, a gesture Katja returned in kind.

“The winds are blowing!” Robert said in greeting to her, his wide grin making it obvious that he wasn’t even trying to hide his excitement at seeing her again.

“But the surface is still, bru!” She replied with a matching excitement in her voice. Katja had to crane her neck to look up at the big man, a strange feeling for someone who was used to always towering above everyone else.

Katja noticed that Tad raised an eyebrow at the peculiar greeting of the two. She turned her gaze towards him for a moment, chuckling to herself while still clasping Robert’s arm tightly. “Don’t worry, we haven’t gone mad.”

Robert joined in with a chuckle of his own. “Just some old Hyperball rivals reminiscing of the past”

“Speaking of Hyperball.” Katja looked back up at the green giant. It took some getting used to, to look up at someone and the thought of having to do this daily gave her some sympathy for the rest of Team Blackjack when having to deal with her. “Playing against Ursus just isn’t the same without you, big man!”

Robert’s eyes widened slightly as his lips formed into a wry smile “I didn’t expect that the shieldmaiden of Alces to have fond memories of me. Afterall, I used to have you in my pocket!”

A short, yet incredulous laugh burst forth from Katja. “Hah! Did I really give you such a bad concussion that you forgot what happened in our last encounter?”

“Perhaps you should give me a reminder.” Robert said as he flashed a grin.

“Perhaps I should.” Katja replied, before pulling the big man closer, a similar grin plastered on the blonde girl’s face.

“Nope! No, no, no, I don’t think you will!” Tad cried out as he tried to step in and put some space between the two giants. Robert held eye contact with Katja for one more second before turning his head to Tad, giving an apologetic nod to him before taking a step back.

Katja meanwhile didn’t take that step back. In fact, she took one forward towards Tad, resulting in her towering over the smaller man. “You really think it’s a good idea to get between an African lioness and her prize?” She said in a playful voice while an amused smirk formed at the corner of her lips.

Tad stood his ground, raising an eyebrow while eyes sized up Katja.he wasn't sure what her game was but as she towered over him, he suddenly found himself back on the Plateau five years ago, a sinister voice crawling through his skull.

And then suddenly it was gone again as Katja's composure broke and a wide toothy grin appeared on her face. Raising her hands in an apologetic fashion, she spoke with some joviality in her voice. “I’m just messing with ya, bru!”

Stepping back to a more respectable distance, Katja folded her arms before addressing the pair in front of her. “So, what did the two of you want to talk about?”

“Well…” Tad cleared his throat before speaking. “We actually wanted to tell you what your task is going to be concerning the construction of the Trials course.”

“You will be working with 'Banjo' on the construction of the foundation per the approved plans.” Robert supplemented. "I believe the task best suits one of your talents and gifts.”

“Aight, gotcha. Well, best get going then.” Katja made her way back to the tents to deposit her gear before going over to the construction site. She quickly turned around, continuing to walk backwards towards the tents while flashing a smirk. “So am I there to do most of the heavy lifting, or am I going to be tasked with keeping Banjo in check?”

“Honestly, probably both.” Tad replied with an apologetic shrug.

The pair of them looked on as the tall blonde made her way over to the tent camp. Tad turned to Robert when he judged her to be outside of earshot. “Sometimes I forget how terrifying that girl can be.”

Robert chuckled, keeping his gaze on Katja a little while longer before turning to Tad, a wide grin on his face. “Exciting, is it not?”

Hearing the reply from his massive friend, the only thing Tad could do was sigh.

Making her way back to the campsite, Katja’s mind was first and foremost preoccupied with how she was going to get Banjo to cooperate with her. Or at least not mess around too much to the point where their work was going to suffer. She remembered her first week where she had to clean up a burned trash bin. One she was certain Banjo had lit on fire! But as of yet she still lacked the evidence for it. Either way, this turned out to only be a mere preview of the sort of tomfoolery Banjo was up to. And it had often been up to her to bring some order to that Aussie bastard.

But truth be told, she couldn’t last a week here without him. He was like a little brother to her. Incredibly annoying, sure. But always there to have your back. And she’d have his, no matter what.

Still, as Katja walked at the edge of the campsite she felt her backpack weigh more heavier with each step she took. The others had probably already formed pairs to share their tents with. She realized that her conversation with Tad and Robert had taken a bit longer than most others’ and this probably meant that she was going to be relegated to sleeping alone.

But right as Katja was about to accept she was going to have to make due with the extra space, she spotted a raven haired girl in the corner of her eye.

“Hey Am, wait up!” She called out to Amma.

It took Katja a couple seconds to jog her way over to Amma, stopping a respectable distance in front of the other girl, giving a short wave before speaking. “I was wondering if you had already found someone to share a tent withya for the night.”

Katja fixed a stray strand of blonde hair that dangled in front of her eyes, after which she continued with an enthused voice. “And if you didn’t, would you be down to euhm, share one with me?”

The tall blonde then smiled her beaming smile as her eyes looked expectantly at Amma, waiting for an answer.

[Skai]

---

H A V E N
H A V E N

&&

B A N J O
B A N J O

_{Location: Southern Plateau - PRCU}

Welcome Home #1.072: Birds of a Feather

---

_{Interaction(s): Banjo @Hound55}

Previously: ... Gets the Worm?

Haven unscrewed the cap to the water bottle with urgency as she turned away from Rory. She lifted it to her lips, proceeding to chug it's entire cooling contents. Her heart calmed now that she was out of Rory's space. Her mind, on the other hand, briefly questioned what the hell she'd just done. It was daring, something she was used to saying, but with Rory? She swallowed hard as she lowered the empty plastic. There was a certain pride blooming in her chest now to have talked to Rory that way without restraint.

"Oi! Tyler! Move your bloody tent!"

Haven grinned to herself as she tossed the bottle into a trash bin nearby. She continued towards the plateau, not daring to look back in case Rory understood Banjo's quip. It was better to let him simmer this way. If he didn't get it now, he would soon enough.

Instead, she turned her attention onto Banjo at the front of the group. While he played off running into the giant faculty member, Haven was busy thinking about how she'd bring up her little plan to him. It was one of the rare occasions when Calli wasn't by his side. Calli's advice could help them in the future, but the law student might not approve of a prank to get their plan in motion. With that thought, it seemed like the perfect time to bounce the idea off of Blackjack's resident prankster. She broke into a light jog, and then her wings took her up about ten feet into the air so that she could catch up to the blondie quickly.

She reached him within seconds, touching down on the ground before she started to keep pace with him. Her wings tucked in behind her as she started the conversation. There was a mention of an Aussie rock song that Haven thought she recognized from Banjo's playlist before, and then a rock song she definitely recognized. The heat returned to her body, but she didn't let it distract her from her current goal. She put her feet back into motion, and soon was at Banjo's side again.

"I'm listening..."

"I want to know how you're feeling, about it all. I don't know if I should be angry and act on it, or jump ship and find my own way." She looked over his expression, knowing that of all people he would be the one to understand how she was feeling the best. There was a lot more she could have said, but she thought her words expressed enough.

Banjo looked at her as if she had two heads.

"I'm not one for tellin' anyone how they should feel about anything. But it's not like there's much that can be done at this point."

"Somehow they've roped us into a situation where they're hopin' to acquire us - their words... whilst they get to run some kind of audit on us. I'll be honest, seems like a massive conflict of interest to me, but given there's only really two schools on the planet like ours, there's probably some flawed processes around it by the sounds and you're stuck with each school policing each other. I assume."

"So anything we do at this point is just gunna reflect on the school and bring them that much closer to givin' 'em what they want." He spoke this last part with his hands, his frustration palpable.

"Now I don't exactly give two shits about this place, they could've rolled in here and said they intend to turn the whole damn island into a parking lot if they did right by everyone and their lives here in the process. But I do care about people. And they came in and fucked with my mob. So now I'm gonna have to find a way to make them eat it. But for now that means waitin'."

Haven sucked on her teeth for a moment, mulling over his words. A moment of disappointment crossed her features, before resilience returned in full force as she angled her head to look over at him.

"Soo... there's no chance you'll help me pull one over the reps?"

She quickly held up her hands in a gesture of peace. "I'm not looking to piss that woman off, as much as I want to. Nor am I aiming to make the school look bad, either."

"Even if we wait, like you said, for the perfect moment. I want to be in on it. I want to shove the whole cake down their throat."

"Depends on what it is 'n' when." He replied.

"Said it time and time again... I'm not in the habit of givin' pricks like these what they want."

"Mark that one down from the Book o' Banjo." He held up a single finger, as if he'd just delivered sage wisdom quoted from on high.

"'N mark my words. When I do act, it's gonna piss that woman and all of her sort off right to high heaven." He turned and gave Haven a broad grin. "And I'll enjoy every minute of it."

"So we're on the same page, then." Haven said with a mischievous smirk of her own. "You already have something brewing? Nothing I can think of would end right, trust me."

"Nothin' for right now." He replied. "This has kind of put everything I would have had on hold. Besides, I normally hold off until after their Homecoming. For some reason they get real on edge about doing anything 'round this time of year." He scratched at his temple.

"But you know me... A bunch of things on the easel in progress. This has just put everything up on blocks. There's no way to thread the needle and not make their job easier in takin' the school." He lamented.

"Don't know enough about these people."

"That's the problem." Haven murmured. "I'm hoping to find out how their school operates. I want to know why they're coming for the school now and not four years ago."

"There has to be something they want out of this besides a second campus."

"Well, first part's simple. We've got a bunch of kids at this school who've transferred from over there." He bounced back to Haven.

"I'll level with ya. New girl puts more wind up me than five cans of baked beans and a box a' bran flakes... but there's another team right on over who had a girl who went there. Ranga-- err-- Redhead girl. I'll be honest, what little I know you'd probably have a tougher time stoppin' her talkin' than gettin' her to start." He suggested as an alternative to the daunting option of questioning Amma, remembering Team Firebird had a member who came from the Foundation as well.

"Might be worth tryin' to see if we can combine campfire stories for the night... Besides, after today's assembly, more friends might be better than less."

"I don't know if Amma would talk to me about it or if I'd lose a few feathers trying." She said with a chuckle. "What's the other transfers name? I haven't mixed with Firebird since the end of summer party last year."

"Aww don't do that to me, I barely know our names..." Banjo replied, as if being put upon.

"She's about ye' big..." He held his hand up. "Ranga bird. You'll hear her before you see 'er. Keeps calling me 'Andrew Olyphant' no matter what I tell her. When I said my name was just 'Banjo' it practically broke her brain."

"Ah, so I'll tell her Andrew sent me?" Haven was the one with the shit eating grin this time.

"No. Like the full name, Haven Barnes. 'Andrew Olyphant'. Not to be compartmentalised or broken up for parts in any way, Haven Barnes."

Haven's brows knitted together for a moment. "What if I haven't told her my full name?"

He raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You think I introduced myself as 'Andrew Olyphant'? When's the last time you caught me doing that? She's a sociable one. Probably has us all memorised by the yearbook or somethin', or heard it somewhere."

Haven laughed. "I'm gonna crack if she says my full name."

"Like an egg, Galah." Banjo stuck his tongue out at her. "And she will. Just you wait and see."

Haven scrunched her nose as he stuck his tongue out. "What's a Galah anyways?"

"Well, they're like a cockatoo... but pink and gray. Google it. I'm the one without a phone."

"And I've got a flip phone." She teased before realization hit her, smacking him lightly on the arm. "Oi, watch the bird jokes too."

Banjo's tongue was wedged deep in his cheek. He'd had a question running through his mind since she said she wanted to talk about it. He thought he had a pretty good feel for the people he knew, Haven in particular.

"Level with me. You've already got a bag packed. Haven't ya?"

Haven took a deep breath, reaching up to clear a few stray hairs out of her face. Her breath came out more of a puff than a sigh. "Yeah." The smile she gave him was bittersweet. "How'd you figure that?"

"Birds of a feather." He smirked.

"Been here five years. Never unpacked."

Banjo dropped his head with a smile, and kicked loose stones as he walked.

"Don't know if I'd have it in me to jump anymore though. Least not by myself." He sighed.

"Got myself too tied in. Never thought that'd happen. But you heard last night. It's been heading that way for a while... but, can't believe things are getting put out in the open."

Haven watched him carefully as he spoke. The bird comment almost earned him a real smack on the arm, but the meaning behind it was why Banjo had never really irritated her. She saw the rawness behind his punky demeanor. Where Calliope understood it and loved it, Haven felt it at her core and respected it.

"It would definitely break my heart to go, yeah." She said, the thought hitting her in the chest. "You have a really good thing going with Calli. I'm sure she would jump with you if you asked."

“I wouldn’t though. Well, unless we’re talking about a threat to life thing again… but really, what are the odds of that happening again?” He spoke with his head down still, a smile slowly creeping across his face, thinking of her.

“She has BIG ambitious plans. Ambitious plans she’s worked hard at to make possible… and they actually are. Me? I’m not someone who can dream so big. Well… I can remember when just thinking about becoming a lawyer was pretty big in and of itself. Every plan I’ve ever had for myself was something I could get anywhere, because I’ve never really known where I’d be.” He stopped and turned to her, an earnest look crossing his face.

“You know what’s really weird? Despite how she carries herself. The way she walks, expensive tastes, the way she was brought up, and the family she was brought up in. There’s no condemnation about her, never been any judgement about anything beyond me. I haven’t really said anything about my family to you – to be honest with you, I only know what I’m told and I’m not entirely sure how much I can believe – but I’ve told her. And my family is pretty much half a step above pond scum. Like, not scraping the bottom of the barrel… the black mould which is growing underneath the barrel. And I’m more scared of havin' a family than she is… like I’m not saying I wouldn’t. But my genes scare the shit out of ME, and she looks at me and just still wants—”

His demeanour had darkened dramatically as he broached the subject of his family, but by the end he chuckled to himself.

“She’s never seemed to judge me beyond who I am and the stuff I do. And I grew up getting bounced around boarding schools. Some of 'em wealthy and for the 'elite'. They don’t breed people like that. I used to eat shit getting bounced to city schools as being too country, I’d cop it from regional schools as being a ‘bloody townie’ or city kid. Everyone had shit to say. They could tell I wasn’t from much. She’s never thrown that in my face. Even when we’ve disagreed on stuff.” The earnest expression was back. It really was remarkable to him. He had a personality that could grate on people, and sooner or later, he'd found people would throw anything they could at him in frustration, desperation or rage.

“So nah. I couldn’t ask her to jump when she’s so close now. I couldn’t up-end her life when she’s actually that kind of person. Just on a hunch. I grew up relying on my intuition, but I couldn’t do that.”

Haven, meanwhile, had been watching Banjo go on and on with a wide smile. It was obvious that he was madly in love with Calli. A trait that Haven admired, and also set as a standard for her own future partner. As he finished, she sighed softly. Her hand reached up to push her stray hairs away from her face again. This time it was an act of self-soothing rather than a learned habit.

"You're completely right." She began, realizing that Banjo had decided to stay and fight for Calli and their future. Yet when she thought about Rory the way Banjo thought about Calli, she realized that she would throw herself into the fire if it meant he'd have a better chance at happiness. Could she hold her temper back, if she wanted to stay long enough to be his happiness?

"I'm happy for you, Banjo." She started with a sincere smile his way. "I think you'll both carve out an entire chunk of the world for yourselves regardless of who your family is or how much you've gone through to get there."

She turned to point at him, her smile turning into a grin. "And I expect an invitation to the wedding."

"I'll make sure you don't get served the chicken." He deadpanned. Before taking a few well timed steps away, and dodging a punch to the arm. A cackle escaping his own grin.

"You got lucky with that one." Haven said with a smile that promised retribution. She shook her head, her gaze turning towards the site as they approached it. "I guess it's time to get to work, huh." She slowed to a stop, sucking on her teeth for a moment. "When we run it, you'll already have an advantage knowing the layout. So let me know if there's any tight spaces I'll have to watch for, yeah?" She looked over at him and offered a half-hearted smirk. "I can't finish my first trial with a clipped wing. Would be pretty bad for my reputation."

"You'll probably get a better look than I will flying overhead. I'm just working on the foundations and inner structural work. The layout will be a shell on the inside." He replied.

Haven raised an eyebrow before nodding. "Gotcha. I'll let you know if I peek anything of interest, then."

"Thanks for the chat by the way. I'm feeling a bit better about it now."

"Likewise. Better shoot through, but. Or Katja's liable to get her knickers in a twist."

"Catch ya later this arvo, if Rory's lettin' ya stay upright."

Banjo went right on back to singing 'Shook Me All Night Long' as he picked up his pace to the construction site.

"I'll move your tent to the other side of the field, plucky! I mean it!" Haven shouted after him. Despite the threat in her words, she was grinning from ear to ear. Rory might not have meant it that way, but she still felt the fluttering of wings in her stomach when she thought about it. She was still grinning as she turned back towards the campsite, her eyes searching for a certain maple red flash of hair.

---

[Melissa]

^{TW: Domestic Violence}

They were arguing again.

Aurora had been startled awake by their screaming. She didn’t know what time it was, but by the way the moon’s bright glow cast shadows on her wall, it was definitely the middle of the night. But, it shouldn’t have jarred her, as it was like clockwork at this point. God only knew what he was angry about this time. Sometimes, it seemed he just picked battles for the thrill of it.

The redhead could hear Damon’s footsteps as he paced, heavy and sluggish in his work boots. The girl may have been young, only 9 years old, but she’d figured out how to pick up on the subtle cues. If he was still wearing his work boots at this hour, it meant that he was only just getting home, and he and his buddies had gone out drinking after his shift.

“God, Sasha, don’t you realize how much I do for you? You’re so fucking ungrateful!” The timbre of his deep voice seemed to shake the walls, a crash of breaking glass and the fizz of the remaining beer that had been in the bottle made Aurora jump. She fumbled with the drawer of her nightstand, wincing at each loud sound that followed, and fished around in the dark until she found what her small hands sought.

The simple MP3 player had been a gift for her 7th birthday. It didn’t have all of the fancy bells and whistles - the screen was small and it only had the standard functions - but it got the job done. She slipped each earbud into the correct ear with shaky hands, selecting the first song she could. It didn’t matter what she was listening to, she turned the volume up anyway.

It was the only way to drown out the noise.

^{__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

_{Location: Myotis Dorm ➜ Southern Plateau - Pacific Royal Campus}

Welcome Home #1.073: The Scenic Route

^{_{________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}}

_{Interaction(s): Lorcán @Lord Wraith and Haven @Skai}

Previously: Life Preserver

Aurora fiddled with the cable of her headphones as she leaned against the exterior of the Myotis dorm, listening to music and patiently waiting for Lorcán. It hadn’t taken her very long to pull her belongings together; she’d only packed a small canvas tote with her essentials since unlike her fellow classmates, if she forgot something or needed anything additional, she’d be able to retrieve it with ease. Still, she brought everything she thought she needed for their trip to the Plateau.

The redhead checked the time on her phone - 15 minutes had come and gone, and the boy was still nowhere to be found. It wasn’t completely unheard of for Lorcán to run behind, but he’d normally at least text her to let her know he’d be late. So his tardiness, combined with the lack of notification, felt off. Maybe something happened? He had been especially clumsy lately…

The thought was nipped in the bud as she looked up and saw him in the distance, and to her surprise, he was accompanied by his father. The two must have been talking, more likely than not about the school’s accreditations and the trainwreck of a ceremony. Aurora hoped that the conversation had brought Lorcán some more solace - she had thought she’d done a decent job of consoling him, but she very well knew she could only do so much. As they neared, his dad waved. “My fault he’s late, won’t happen again.” He called out to her. Aurora smiled, waving back, popping out an earbud to show that she had been listening before replying. She didn’t want him to think she was being rude, after all.

“No problem, Mr. Roth- I mean, Aiden!” Try as she might, the formalities were a force of habit, even though Lorcán’s parents had told her many, many times to refer to them by first name. She’d tried to unlearn it over the years, but some things didn’t change that easily. Lorcán’s father turned and departed, and as Lorcán approached her, Aurora took off her headphones fully, putting them away in her tote.

“Hey lady dude, sorry that took so long, we should probably hustle.” He smiled, “But I think we should still take the scenic route, I can carry that bag for you if you want?”

Aurora smirked, removing her tote from her shoulder and passing it into his waiting, outstretched hand. “Sure, thank you.” She inclined her head in the direction where his dad had walked. “Everything okay?”

"I definitely know you're about to think I've wiped out too many times but-" Lorcán started before explaining about his visit with Jonas, bringing Aurora up to speed on what had transpired in the short time that they were apart as they began their trek to the Plateau. The girl was shocked, to say the least, to hear this information. Sure, she could travel from place to place, but to travel across a timeline? It was fascinating, but also terrifying to know that this ability could possibly be replicated and the dangers associated with it. Part of her also recognized how lucky Lorcán was; she’d never tell him, but she found herself feeling slightly envious of the moment he had gotten to have with someone he’d cared so deeply about. Borrowed time that she’d probably never get to have.

The boy had also shown her the stone-like object that Jonas had left him with, and went so far as to hand it to her, letting the girl examine it for herself. She also found it to be warm on her skin and somewhat reactive to her touch, its reflective and metallic sheen catching the light in such an interesting way. Aurora knew it wasn’t akin to anything she’d seen before, which made her wonder where or when it was from and the meaning behind it.

The pair had taken their time as they made their way to the Plateau, simply enjoying each other's company. Conversation had always been easy between the two of them and silence was never awkward, always comforting; they could talk about anything or nothing at all. About an hour after they had set off on their walk, they arrived at the campground, and Tad was certainly not pleased with how delayed they had been.

“Aurora! Lorcán! You two need to hurry it up, you’re last to arrive and we have a ton of work to get done. A tent has already been set up for the pair of you. Aurora, you’ll need to find Haven, the pair of you will be doing supply runs, Lorcán, you’re with Rory and Amma, you three will be cutting and placing structural components that Eden can use to wrap the hedge around and build the maze.”

Did she hear him correctly? A tent for the pair of them?

Guess that’s what they got for taking the scenic route.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to share with Lorcán- they were best friends, friends did things like this together all the time- but something about sharing the small space triggered Aurora’s fight or flight, especially when it came to her sleeping habits. What if she had a nightmare and woke up screaming like she had on some occasions? Or worse, crying? She knew he wouldn’t judge her, he’d comforted her so many nights on the beach, but sleeping in the same tent seemed oddly intimate. The redhead shook off her woes, turning to the boy. “Looks like you’re stuck with me,” She laughed, trying to keep her tone light and casual, despite the rapid thumping of her heart that betrayed her mind, “I’m going to go and find Haven, she’s probably wondering where I am and why I’m not helping her yet.”

Aurora took a few steps towards the construction site before turning back to Lorcán with a half-smile, “We'll talk later!” she promised warmly, walking away to begin the search for her winged friend. It didn't take long for the redhead to spot Haven amongst the organized chaos, and she didn't waste any time making her way over to her perch.

"Right on time as usual, Ror." Haven lilted as she approached, "You won't believe who asked me to bunk with him, and how he asked."

[Roman]

G I L G A L A H A D // H A R P E R B A X T E R
G I L G A L A H A D // H A R P E R B A X T E R

_{Location: Southern Plateau - Dundas Island}

Welcome Home #1.074: An Interesting Proposition

---

_{Interaction(s): @Qia//Harper}

Of all the things Gil, Gil, and Gil may have expected to happen, Haven's deliberately bold and sultry come-on to Rory in reply was pretty low on the list. The three of them shook their heads in mutual disbelief, stunned at the success Rory's sheer obliviousness had conjured for him. Of course, such success unimpeded was short-lived; Mei arrived, clearly still wounded from Rory's faux pas on the beach the night before. Emotions were high from the morning announcement, and the Gils foresaw many such dramatic gestures on the horizon. At least the Trials would force them to focus on each other in a more pragmatic tactical sense, rather than the love-bug currently circling the group.

Rory tripped on Mei's silk and discarded his trousers entirely in his efforts to chase after her; Gil wondered how the oaf managed to enrapture so many women, and yet remain so incognizant of any of it.
Speaking of, his observation was interrupted as Harper appeared in eyeline. All three Gils smiled warmly at her pleasing countenance. She returned each smile in kind, and Gil was keenly aware he outnumbered Harper - it happened often in conversation - and he also noticed a degree of nervousness in Harper's manner.

Harper steadied her nerves as the collective gaze of the Gils settled on her, a trio of expectant stares that could easily unnerve.“So…”she ventured, her voice a careful blend of nonchalance and mischief,"I’m considering a play from Rory’s handbook… touché?”The smirk that played on her lips then was both a shield and a signal.“Respectfully,” she hastened to add, the smirk now blossoming into a full-fledged grin. A moment lingered, heavy with anticipation, before she delivered the punchline, “In separate cots, of course. For decency’s sake.”

Gil2 and Gil3 cleared their throats, but said nothing; both gazes shifted to Gil himself, deferring - as ever - to their original and maker. Gil maintained his smile, venturing to joke and flirt.
"That proposition got less exciting the more you said," he replied, a mischievous smirk playing across his face. "But nonetheless amicable. Do you have a tent picked out already?"
Gil2 hefted the single bag Gil had brought, and waited expectantly.

Harper’s pulse quickened as Gil’s grin persisted, his response to her playful proposition laced with a similar flirtatious spirit. His quip about the dwindling thrill brought a slight flush to her cheeks, yet she welcomed the light-hearted exchange. She noticed Gil2, poised with the bag, and gestured towards her tent nestled among others. “That’s my spot,” she said, injecting a touch of theatrics into her voice,“It’s far from a five-star suite, but it’s got its own charm.”She’d never actually experienced the luxury of a high-end hotel, and truth be told, she found a certain peace in the simplicity of tent life amidst the serene backdrop of nature, anyway.

“By the way, am I dealing with all 3 of you at once? Not that I think I can’t handle it but…doesn’t hurt to be prepared,” she teased, her tone light but with a hint of a challenge.

Gil raised an eyebrow as Harper matched his flirtatious tone. She gestured towards her - their - chosen tent, and Gil2 moved off without a word to deposit their luggage. Gil and Gil3 remained, collective curiosity thoroughly piqued. This Harper before them, flirty, audacious, wry, was some distance from the usual reserved, disciplined Harper he'd grown familiar with over the last year.
"I'm sure you could handle as much of me as I can deliver, Harper Baxter, but I'm not sure the tents could withstand it." He replied, winking gratuitously. Gil3 felt himself begin to blush, and instead coughed and turned away, searching for their work assignment for the trials as a means of distraction. "But no, we'll be one on one this evening. Have to keep something in my bag of tricks for later, you know?"

Harper’s mind raced as she started to process the flirtatious exchange, her earlier words hanging between them like a challenge thrown down in a game she hadn’t realized she was playing. Until now. She could feel the heat of a blush threatening to rise again.

Yet, she found herself leaning into the moment, the thrill of the unexpected banter with Gil giving her a rush of adrenaline.

One more. She had about one last one in her.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re full of surprises,” she retorted, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach. “But just so we’re clear, I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve too.”

Realizing they were teetering on the edge of a conversation that could spiral into unknown territories, Harper quickly shifted gears. She pointed towards the direction Haven had indicated earlier, her hand cutting through the tension. “Let’s not keep Tad waiting any longer for us,” she said, her tone a mix of practicality and reluctance to end their playful interaction. “After all, we wouldn’t want to be the topic of any kind of gossip now would we?”

Gil was thoroughly enjoying himself, pleasantly surprised by this side of Harper, and his mind drifted to the evening previous on the beach, wrapped up in Katja's biceps and talking about the dance. Perhaps the idea had legs after all.
²"I wouldn't worry about that." Gil2 said as he returned, having caught Harper's last few words. He rejoined the group as they began to move toward the faculty. ²"Rory's got it plenty covered. He's sharing a tent with Haven, but taking Mei to the dance. Can't wait how he's going to explain that on the big night."

Gil3 groaned in exasperation, while Gil just rubbed his temple. All tension burst, he gestured forwards, allowing Harper to take the lead as the four of them together approached Tad for their work assignments.

Harper, now caught in a crossfire of emotions, felt a headache brewing. She groaned and rubbed her temples in tandem with the Gils, the half-baked scheme made earlier making a reappearance in her thoughts. That whole debacle still needed tending, and Rory’s romantic entanglements were a puzzle she wasn’t sure she wanted to delve into along with it. As Gil gestured her forward, she stepped ahead, her mind already brewing up some possible solutions.

“The faster he tells Haven, the better, I think,” Harper finally voiced her thoughts, breaking the brief silence that had settled over them. “She knows how he can be so might understand.”

^{1 2 3}"We can only hope." All three Gils said in unison, creating a chorus of dubious faith. Shortly ahead of them, Tad stood together with a towering man, who was looking fervently between a tablet and the various students and faculty members coming and going across the plateau.
"Tad!" Gil called, waving a hand in greeting to both men. Behind him, Gil2 and Gil3 did the same, while Harper gave them a polite nod. "Hope you're as well as you look, after this morning? Harper and we need our assignments for the Trials."

"Gil, I appreciate you asking. As much as I hate to say it, the worst I'll have to deal with is a new boss if the Foundation takes over. I've already graduated, only thing I've ever wanted to do was help other Hypes like me find a home here." Tad responded.

"I believe we have you filling in where needed. I'm a little worried about the combination of Lorcán, Rory and Amma. Why don't you check in with Rory and see if you can lend a hand there? Harper, you'll be working with Calliope and Mei to come up with the theme of this year's trial and work on programming the simulation."

Gil3 was already heading off as Gil and Gil2 flashed Tad a thumbs-up, Gil2 jogging away to catch up with himself.
"Gotcha - I figured as much for myself." Gil said, then turned to Harper. "I guess I'll see you later on - looking forward to the pillow-talk."
He gave Harper another wink before he headed off, leaving behind a flustered girl and two men with one raised eyebrow apiece.

[Lord Wraith]

Most of the campsite was set up by the time the pair arrived. Tad quickly barked orders to Lorcán and Aurora for their parts in constructing this year’s trial. It was the inclusion of sharing a tent for the night that received a double take from Lorcán. A shiver of anticipation and excitement went down Lorcán’s spine as she struggled to maintain a straight face so as not to alarm Aurora with his eagerness or enthusiasm for the night to come.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me,”

“Of all the grom luck,” Lorcán mockingly groaned with a smirk. He and Aurora had fallen asleep together many times on the beach though he couldn’t say he had ever intentionally tried to share a bunk or otherwise with her. It was probably best to approach the situation at hand with as little overthinking as possible.

“I’m going to go and find Haven, she’s probably wondering where I am and why I’m not helping her yet,” Aurora stated, interrupting Lorcán’s spiralling thoughts as his molten eyes looked down into her shimmering blues. He absently reached for her hand before stopping himself.

Why did he always stop himself?

“We'll talk later!”

Talking was good, they were good at talking. They had just spent the last five kilometres talking. If there was anyone on this island that Lorcán could talk to it was Aurora. But sleeping in a tent with her…

…Did I even pack pajamas?

Lorcán had to stop and think for a second. In his head, he had always been bunking with Rory or Gil. He didn’t think about needing anything more than a pair of boxers to sleep in and already that was generous as both of the other boys had found out on one occasion or another.

Giving his head a shake, Lorcán stifled a laugh at a memory recalling the first time that Rory had discovered Lorcán preferred the buff to boxers at night. It, after all, wasn’t every night that you walked out to the kitchen to not only discover your new roommate drinking directly from the carton but doing so while hanging brain.

The following morning was accompanied by a discussion on boundaries and the importance of glasses.

He watched Blackjack move about going to their respective tasks and smiled fondly. The last three years had built a lot of memories and though he wouldn’t allow himself to voice it out loud, Lorcán knew that he’d miss the island and its predictability. With a sad smile, he followed Aurora’s lead and moved to join his group, walking towards the pair of dark-haired individuals as the trio moved to the construction site.

^{________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

_{Location: The Southern Plateau - Dundas Island, Pacific Ocean}

Welcome Home #1.075: I Want to Reconcile the Violence

^{_{____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}}

_{Interaction(s): @Melissa - Aurora Mitchell, @Rockette - Amma Cahors}

Previously: I've Been Talking With A Ghost

While some people loved the smell of a book, Lorcán loved the smell of a freshly printed standard D-size drawing as it was unfolded and placed in front of him. The twenty-four by thirty-six-inch piece of paper illustrated the supporting structure that would serve the Trial’s construction in creating both the outside illusion of a giant hedge maze and the interior simulation of whatever theme Harper and Calli landed on.

Perfectly chosen line weights and hatches illustrated how each piece of steel was to be cut and installed as Lorcán mulled over the plans, admiring Robert’s attention to detail.

Looking over the plans one last time with a whistle of admiration, Lorcán turned his attention to the work in front of him. Thankfully in addition to Rory and Amma, there were members from other senior teams assigned to different quadrants but there was still more than enough work in front of them.

That didn’t mean they didn’t have time to chat though.

“Did you see my arm, brah?” Lorcán asked Amma, breaking the silence as he passed the plans along for her and Rory to take a look. “You inspired me.” He elaborated, pointing to the three-quarter sleeve along his right arm.

His ember-like eyes watched the girl before speaking again. He had never truly realized just how much ink covered her body. Numerous skulls and insects, birds and tentacles, each directing and guiding the eyes to a different location.

“You were right about one thing,” He smiled, “It did hurt, every single one.” He added with a smug shrug. Macho didn’t suit him, he didn’t really understand what was prompting him to thump his chest and holler like this. There was just something about being around Amma which always made Lorcán feel like he needed to impress her.

“But after a while, it just burned and really, what’s a burn to me.”

He carefully watched those icy blue eyes, anticipating the words out of her full, pale, lips. There was an approval that he was desperate to win, despite not knowing why.

She is a perceptive creature, and in every instance, she observes with a sort of aloof detachment whilst simultaneously gathering every ounce of detail and nuances possessed by human nature. From the careful browse of his eyes attempting to decipher the depths of her stare, to the accent of his speech that pings curiously on her ears with every drawl of timbre, from the corded muscle through the arm he displays. The accentuation of gray and black is appealing against the bronze of his skin, how she never noticed before alludes to her, much like the way his words strike a cord within her that is entirely foreign and yet... not.

"Oh, really now?" Her voice whisper-soft as she recalls the memory from a year prior. That waspish need to assert herself within an established team, to introduce her impression as one of sensuality and power; the same sort of power that thrummed through her with a sort of hyper-awareness when he looked at her. He, who was the first one to introduce himself, spoke to her, the first to crest the cautious exterior she had erected the first time she stepped onto the island. Looking at him now, and carefully so, she notes that his hair is much shorter than it had been before. A shame, she thinks.

It is a time that suddenly seems so far away.

Amma lifts one careful gesture, palm up, curiosity splayed through her fingers.

"Pain like that is different from anything else I've known." She can't break the soft plume of laughter that works its way free then, tinged in the finest touches of something akin to sadness. "But you're right, what is a burn to you - Lorcán."

His name is effortless through her lips, and Amma finds she doesn't much mind the way it settles against both tongue and teeth. It's probably the first moment she has ever uttered such, and the realization colors her eyes bright in icy fissures that collide through her stare. "Nice lines," she observes. Her lashes sweep low and without much hesitation, she clasps her palm against his forearm, using the motion to view both wyvern and Phoenix inked into his incredibly warm skin. It almost burns against her flesh, spiraling through the length of her fingers and hand much like a serpent of flame suddenly looping thrice around her wrist.

"I like it. Who knew I could inspire something beautiful like this." There is irony coated in her words, she's almost certain.

“Why?” Lorcán responded, a confused look crossing his boyish face. “There’s like, totally nothing ugly about you, Betty.” He shook his head in slight disbelief. The fire-like irises of his eyes framed his pupils as they danced about scanning Amma from head to toe. He meant what he said, there was nothing ugly about the young woman standing before him. Her figure was slender but curved enough to be dangerous. What had once been a blank canvas was now covered in art that peeked out from under the hemlines of her physical training uniform enhancing her foreign and exotic beauty.

Her lips seemed to almost cradle each word she spoke, constantly leaving Lorcán greedily wanting more of the siren’s call. Her lips’ fullness pressed together with every word, holding each syllable on bated breath before speaking in a tone and manner that left Lorcán with every hair on his body standing on end. Not unlike the experience of lightning leaving his fingertips.

The deer frolicked through the fields unaware that the wolf was watching from the treeline. The clouds overhead continued to swirl with the threat of both rain and storm, but the deer stood smiling, blissful in its ignorance. An unprecedented tension sat over the plateau as the cold winds cried over the Howling Cliffs again.

“Brah, hear that?” The wavy-haired boy asked, gesturing with his head towards the edge of the Plateau. “The like edge of the Southern Plateau is known as the Howling Cliffs. Get this, one of ours used their abilities to shape the cliffs to work like an instrument so when the wind blows through the cliffs, it creates that rad haunting song. It’s totally sick.”

"I didn't know that," her admission is toned in wonder, her thoughts adrift to what he confided to there being nothing ugly about her.

He simply doesn't know you yet, Amma.

She easily dispels her touch away from him, the tiniest of crimson sparks descending from those lines of fate and heart carved into her palms as her brows plunge at the moniker he has bestowed upon her. Amma hums thoughtfully, unable to inquire as the wind pitches and collides as if summoned by their mention. Her eyes follow his motions, back to the edge of the cliffs she had stood aside prior, perhaps that was why she felt beckoned by the spires below -- for the entire construct of manipulated rock to be an instrument rather than a force of erosion and time. Her head cants to one side, as if trying to catch those lilting notes and haunting chords he mentioned.

Half-lidded, her eyes shimmer in recognition as she deciphers those hidden pitches, an accompanying murmur purring away from her throat and chest that harks back to a symphony sung into the night sky many years ago.

"That is rad," she almost quips, mirth spiralling away into her eyes as these Howling Cliffs summon more notes away from her lips, much like the inspiration that drones away through her body as he looks at her. That hypersensitivity simmered and banked against her bones, eager in the path that rose to her inked skin, liken to a primal energy that appreciated every panning search of his molten eyes that danced with a hidden flame that she suddenly wanted to see unleashed.

"What other secrets are there about this place?" She wondered aloud, so long as it kept him looking at her like that.

“I hear them too,” Lorcán replied absently, his voice breaking her thoughts as he noted Amma responding to the notes. “There’s the fourth, the fifth. A minor fall and then a major lift.” His index and middle fingers began to tap an alternating pattern against his belt.

“I find new secrets are like revealed around here on the regular.” He muttered in reply, picking up a nearby piece of material, and taking two measurements before raising his hand. With some focus, he accelerated the air around his hand, igniting it before refining the flame into white-hot plasma. With a graceful stroke, he sliced through the first beam.

“Most of the island has definitely been altered by the founding faculty and students, the flora and the fauna. Even the temperatures, it’s not actually supposed to be as temperate as it is. But we hold the power to shape the world.”

He sliced through the next piece of metal.

“Or destroy it.”

Rechecking the plans, Lorcán took ahold of the metal. Pausing, he took a breath, reaching out through the surrounding HZEs and slowly raising the temperature of the metal until it began to bend in his hands. Gently guiding it to the illustrated shape, he released the bent steel to cool before continuing to move on.

“What was the Foundation like, brah?” Lorcán asked, looking back at Amma, “I’ve heard from one of the other Bettys it was pretty bleak. Sterile, hospital-like hallways and corridors, very module pod-like floating structures. But that Torres kook seems like a real iron lady. Can’t imagine she’s easy to impress.”

[Rockette]

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_{Location: Southern Plateau - Dundas Island, Pacific Ocean}

Welcome Home #1.076: in your heart.

^{_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

_{Interaction(s): @Lord Wraith - Lorcán Roth}

Previously: I Want to Reconcile the Violence

It’s not something she wants to talk about, not while she watches him work with a sort of ease she envies and admires. Amma looks down at her own hands, tracing over scars muddied under lines of black and grey, the most delicate of work she commissioned, to smother those reminders. The harmonizing quality with which he works is something of a marvel all on its own, almost natural with minuscule concentration to harness those HZEs that were constantly abuzz around her, bending to her whims and spewing esoteric whips of power even without her consent.

"Destroy... Right."

Her fingers curl inward, nails scraping, bones cracking with plumes of red billowing forth like a crimson miasma. The air that is rife with manipulated heat beckons to her own, the acceleration of temperature reminiscent of the explosions she is capable of. Amma peels her jacket from her shoulders, finding it suddenly stifling, and carelessly tosses it aside to be retrieved later. She inhaled softly, so it wasn't a nickname, but an appellation befitting to all dames, somehow that made her feel lesser, but the admission was lost amongst the roars abound through her ears as she performed a series of stretches -- almost stalling.

"They're not wrong," Amma begins, slowly, mimicking his preparations and reaching for a piece of metal. "It's all grey, black and white." She measures once, twice, three times before she concentrates on the piece in her hand, laying it flat to caress her palm against the cold surface. "The dressings didn't so much as matter, as much as what was within those sterile halls." Crackling whips of energy spiral down, the HZEs surrounding her gestures alive in licks of scarlet and silver, fissuring into a line that Amma directs with a slight wince over her features.

"Torres values power, individuality, and the willingness to use that power." The metal snaps suddenly at her mention, the blue of her eyes lightened to almost silver, like the frothing waves of the ocean spiraling to and fro as she sets her pieces aside and reaches for another. She checks the plans next and says: "At least to their benefit. And that of the Foundation Force."

"I hated every second." The admission is sudden and illustrated in the vortex of red in her grasp, coiling wisps reaching forward, infecting the ground at their feet until they prod and dig and snap around another piece of metal and shatter it into various pieces intended for their purpose. "And while that may be so, I also know I wouldn't... be what I am now. I guess I owe them that much." The words are harsh and biting, curling around her teeth and lips that drop into a frown.

“Sounds like a total bumm-” Lorcán started, pausing, “No, it actually just sucks. I hate that. I’m sorry.” He muttered, kicking the dirt at his feet while haphazardly tossing his current piece of steel aside.

“You’ve never gotten to just use your powers for fun have you?” He asked, knowing the answer without her answering.

“I wish they weren't here.” The plasma blade surrounding his hand flickered to a blue flame before crackles of lightning were snuffed out by a closed hand.

“Slag.” He snapped, “This Foundation stuff already had me whelmed, but knowing this is the kind of stuff they do.”

He looked around before smiling at Amma.

“First lesson in fun, never be afraid to seize an opportunity for it. They have Hypes who can shape this stuff with their mind. Why don't we blow this off? I’m not getting a degree anyways,”

A piece of cold steel breaks apart in her hand, unbidden sparks flying away from her gestures.
"I'm -" the words fail to fly from her lips, a soft look of confusion crossing over her face. In what situation did one require or desire an apology? Would it prove anything beyond the hopeless situation and circumstance; the very occurrences she had warned them about carelessly and harshly the night before? To speculate the future and then to be proven right still sired breadths of rage through her body which she struggled to dispel even now.

She wasn't the only one affected.

"Fun," Amma tests the word on her tongue. "With, or without a degree. You'd still be stuck here, you know." She saw little point in feigning to his emotional state. "Might as well make it worthwhile, make a point. A mark." Amma shakes out her hands, silver and red sinking beneath her inked flesh and briefly highlighting the coils of snakes along her forearms. "Seize the opportunity. And make them regret it."

"In the end, that degree would've been a piece of paper." She supposed then, that it mattered not if they completed this current task or no. Amma stepped closer then, arms crossed over the other with her nails poised against the crook of either arm.

"Everything hinges on your actions and what you decide to make of them."

In hindsight, later perhaps, Amma will wonder what and why she was receptive to his words, every feature and display of power, every flicker of his molten eyes that she can’t help but capture with the depths of her own. She’ll wonder why she encroached that yawning chasm she kept around herself, why that distance shrunk just so then and there, as if a bridge had been laid to cross the void of her very soul.

“They can try and keep me on this rock.” Lorcán smiled, his hand dipped into his pocket. The warm pulse of Jonas's ‘charm’ vibrated against his palm.

“But I think I’ll find a way to make it out.”

Suddenly Lorcán scooped Amma up in his arms. It was only after he was already holding her that he realized he would never have had the courage to spontaneously do this to Aurora. Focusing on the ambient HZEs around them, Lorcán pushed off the ground, an explosion of flame beneath then, his own shield of energy extending to Amma in his arms as they launched into the air.

Clearing both the construction site and Blackjack’s campsite, they begin their descent on a pillow of hot air before Lorcán’s feet touched firm ground again. With a smile, he took a few running steps forward before jumping again with a rocket thrust of boost.

Three more jumps and Lorcán had successfully cleared the plateau and carried his new friend to the forest that separated the plateau from the campus. Setting Amma back on her own feet, Lorcán motioned for her to follow him as he entered the thick bush.

“So what have you always wanted to try, brah? You want to like cut down a tree? We can basically do whatever we want in here. No one can see us from the plateau or the campus. Couple of years ago, bunch of groms totally got busted in here for a dueling club.” He shook his head while continuing to speak.

“Kooks were just blasting each other till they were wiped out and pulled under.”

He was not what she expected and with her arms cinched around his neck as they suddenly were, Amma could only marvel at the rush of wind and flame that propelled them up - and up. Being at such a height elicited a gasp that rushed away from her as Lorcán ran on, the strength of his body cradled around her figure not going unnoticed and neither was the soft breath of a laugh that came after their second leap. It was a sort of rush that simmered away betwixt her ribs as she found her footing thereafter, her exhale swift and near breathless as she followed through the browse.

"More secrets," she mused aloud, taking the initiative to explore their surroundings, separated from the world, a hidden expanse of endless forest without the eyes of those who still saw fit to chain her. Contain and use. Where none can see. She tilts her head slowly, a grin curving against her lips at his words, she glances back towards Lorcán and keeps her stare pinned there.

That well and void pitched within, a baying call that rose from the depths of her power and sounded out in a low drone that vibrated the very ground beneath her feet. Amma slowly stretched out every piece of herself, as if her heart suddenly yawned open along with the fractured remains of her soul that glimmered black and red and smudged grey at the edges. Allowing that eternal containment and barrier to fall away, for just a moment, as the HZEs within a thirty-three-foot radius came alive in whipping lines of scarlet and silver, almost serpentine in grace until they dug themselves into the earth, and burrowed true and deep.

What did she always want to try?

Amma felt the quakes from below, fighting to control the hissing chords of her power demanding subjugation, and slowly expanded those throes of dominance until threads of crimson lit up every follicle of grass and dirt and rock - until a tree only a few feet away from him suddenly too was lit from within. It took only a thought, maybe a breath before it slowly began to fall apart, bark and leaves and branches and all. Fissures through the earth spread out towards where Lorcán stood as well, a soft challenge in the form of a singular strike.

“Did you bite your thumb at me?” Lorcán replied amused by Amma’s choice. He was anticipating perhaps carving a tree stump into a bear or the Venus de Milo.

“Sure, brah, we can throw down.” He replied before cracking his neck while bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Just give me a second.”

Taking his shirt off, Lorcán folded it and placed it aside and quickly slid out of his shoes before spinning around on his heel. A boosted jump led to a kick that launched a small ball of fire from his foot towards Amma’s direction.

She waited until the last moment, the sphere of fire coming closer and closer until Amma simply stepped aside, allowing chunks of wood she had severed to receive the blow instead. She cannot help the laughter then, something true that punches straight from her belly, something she curls in on and attempts to smother beneath her fingers. Her eyes dance at the revealed expanse of bronze skin, tracing over every displayed inch of muscle.

"Couldn't help myself. Decent reflexes, though." She confesses and drops to her knees on the grass, concentration furrowing her brow as the tendrils of her power spiral up and out, until she curls her palms around them, cradling the energy within her grasp with a sort of reverence. It hums and spits like a rabid sort of creature barely contained by her touch.

"Here, try and aim your heat at it. I want to see something." Something she felt last night in the core of a flickering flame. "Unless you'd rather go blow for blow, to which I'll say - you will lose." The sphere struggling against her fingers seemed to wail in response, a haunting note of the arcane that was heralded as something otherworldly.

Lorcán hesitated for a moment, he had nothing to gain by going toe to toe with Amma and honestly sparring was probably the furthest from his personal idea of fun.

Matching her posture, Lorcán knelt in front of her and reached out. Igniting the air within the sphere as he felt the feedback of Amma’s own abilities begin to crawl over his skin, the vibrations reaching through and traveling his body. Silver and red alternatively glowed orange and blue as their abilities meshed.

It was an electric feeling. The power of two Hyperhumans coursing like an active current through his body was elevating. They of course had taught students in the wake of Hyperion how to bend HZEs against one another, essentially blocking the abilities of another. But they had also taught the students that when two or more Hyperhumans were in sync they could lend or boost the abilities of another.

This was still different.

Lorcán closed his eyes, reaching out through his abilities, he could feel Amma. He could feel all of her and he was sure she could feel him. Tendrils weaved their way through him, weaving along the nervous system and neural pathways. Exploding fireworks of endorphins and serotonin.

“There it is,” she breathed, almost as an afterthought, eyes suspended in a crystalline glow that speared through her lashes even as her eyes drifted shut. "I thought," Amma continued, her voice dropping to a near whisper as pure sensation ignited through the entirety of her being. Through skin and pores and every follicle of nerve, down to the very marrow of her bones that ticks up every notch of her spine. Within and without. "I felt something in the fire last night, a small piece of flame; a small little flicker even after I left."

She felt the sphere within her grasp beginning to pulsate in tandem with her beating heart, the sphere of influence that surrounded them also becoming lost within a quivering tempo. Amma felt Lorcán; felt every facet of his power, felt the coiling ambiance of HZEs that flocked to them and immediately heated in response. She felt her power curl and sweep through his own, conjoining as a singular construct of pure and raw origin that immediately swelled and grew and grew until she could barely contain it. It was a revelation that Amma discovered in the merging of their differing strengths: it was a sort of intimacy that she had never known. Not like this. Never like this.

And within that divulgence, she couldn't help the abundance of 'Whys' that speared through her lobe then and there. For everyone else was scared of her, some terrified, some wary, and some that barely acknowledged her. She was the unknown. She was the void. So why did he not balk or run or scorn her? Why? Was it displaced chivalry; or was he the knight and she the dragon? Amma wants to ask, but a small part of her wonders if she is ready for those answers.

Why did she even care?

With a gasp, their power pistoled from the cage of her palms and twined up both of her arms, eliciting a sort of euphoric expression that curled her lips and fluttered her lashes.

And just as quickly as the sensation came, it suddenly went, and it dissipated in glittering showers of red and silver and black sparks as grass and rock too disintegrated as if it had never been. The forest was a secret, a place he had brought her for fun, but she knew Lorcán was a man many were fond of, people flocked to him easily as many flocked to fires for warmth and comfort. The world outside, in this moment, is only so far away.

"I imagine," she almost struggled to say - breathless. "They will come looking for you soon."

“Uh yeah, probably.” Lorcán managed to reply between catching his breath. His entire being was numb, like his essence had been drained and returned.

“Brah, I’m just going to need a sec here.” He added after looking down and realizing that the athletic shorts perhaps could benefit from a compression layer under the outer fabric.

“You’re like free to go on ahead, I’ll catch up.”

[webboysurf]

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_{Location: Southern Plateau - Pacific Royal Campus}

Welcome Home #1.077: And you're gone

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_{Interaction(s): None}

Previously: Tired of Tripping on my Shoes

Everything, for once, was coming up Rory. No last minute upsets in an important game. No sudden attacks or near-death experiences. His mess-ups with language hadn't seemed to cause any lasting damage in the relationships with his closest friends. Things were great.

Well, except for the impending doom of discredited degrees and a split-second decision to sell his soul to the government. But that was a future Rory problem.

Present Rory was doing just great.

Rory had managed to parse out his work assignment fairly quickly, beaming as he approached the work site. He had mustered up with his teammates, receiving the plans for a moment while Lorcán and Amma began talking ink. He couldn't really relate, and the last thing he wanted to do was interrupt to brag about his recent dance plans... especially after the beach incident. He still hadn't gotten around to apologizing for that. He'd find time, certainly. But for now, they had work to do. Rory eyed up the plans, making a few mental notes. He was certainly going to need power tools for this... he wasn't going to be able to copy powers all day. This was a marathon, not a sprint.

Rory left, fetching a reciprocating saw, some clamps, and a hammer. He managed to set himself up nearby his friends, doing his best not to eavesdrop. He watched the two, a slight uneasy feeling seeping into his stomach. He knew flirting when he saw it... and there was something between those two that felt familiar. He couldn't blame Lorcán: Amma was alluring in her own ways. But after everything that had happened today, and the gift given by Torres... she was at the bottom of Rory's "trust" list on the team. The last thing he wanted was to see his bro get hurt, especially when he had a good thing going. He just needed to buck up and be honest with Rora.

Though, Rory was the last person who could judge him, and he knew it. Hell, Rory had crushes on practically everyone in Blackjack at some point or another. Some were embarrassing, others based purely on looks. Those he still had feelings for after all this time... it was too late to ruin friendships now. The last thing he needed was awkward team lunches or awkward locker room interactions... or, worst of all, losing what little time he had left with his friends.

Rory paused as he had collected some metal bars. What were the lengths they needed?

"Hey, Roth, what-"

As Rory turned around, he was incredibly surprised to see his best friend scooping up Amma and taking off like a rocket. The sudden flash of combustion blinded Rory for a second, and the intense heat washed over him and left him more hot and sweaty than usual. He looked up in disbelief as they had taken off, turning back to look at their work. They had worked on a handful of bars... and now they were God knows where. Rory's gaze slowly turned towards his fellow classmates, who similarly turned their judging glares his direction. Rory walked over towards their station, snatched up the plans and the bars they hadn't yet finished, and returned to his station.

Once again, he'd have to cover for the chill-master general and little miss too-cool-for-school. Usually he only had to cover for a teammate at a time when it came to shirking basic responsibility. A two-for-one deal was a rare treat.

Complaining wasn't going to get the job done, however. So, Rory rolled up his sleeves and got to work. He clamped down one of the metal rods, measured out the length, and used a marker to mark the cut line. He used the reciprocating saw to cut off the excess metal, moved the bar down the clamp, and fetched the hammer. With a loud, strenuous series of hits, Rory hammered the piece into shape. He could feel the sweat accumulating on his back, and ripped his shirt off to toss aside. This was going to be a long day.

Rory fell helplessly behind his classmates, who with scoffs came throughout the day to remove work from his pile to do themselves. His cheeks were red hot with embarrassment and shame as he poured his feelings into his work. He slammed the hammer into the metal rods to bend them through his sheer force of will, unable to rely on the same powers as those who scoffed at his efforts. But he didn't stop. He couldn't stop until it was all finished. So he worked, not speaking a word to anyone as he silently stewed on his thoughts over the hours of work.

... 'you want to sleep together tonight'... but that could also mean... no, there's no way...

... I don't owe him an apology, Lorcán owes me one. I'd never leave him to do work like this alone. He knows that. But no, run off with the tatted french girl who might be spying for the enemy. He won't be upset that he has to do all your work for you...

... Rora seemed really bothered at the beach... there's something else going on. Maybe I should ask Haven if she knows anything? Probably after I ask about the flirting...

... Why web up my pants? Was Mei jealous? But Haven and I... well, I'm... but Haven isn't... is she? No...

... Maybe I should ask Banjo for prank advice? I'd go with the shaving cream thing again, but Lorc finds that really funny every time...

... No, Wings definitely knew I just meant sharing a tent... right?

[Lord Wraith]

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_{Location: Southern Plateau - Dundas Island, Pacific Ocean}

Welcome Home #1.078: A Bridge to Build, or to Burn?

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_{Interaction(s): @webboysurf - Rory Tyler}

Previously: in your heart.

“Dude, I have to hand it to you, I would have quit the moment I took off, bro.”

Lorcán's voice came from behind Rory as the other Blackjack member opted to ignore the first, continuing to hammer away at the metal in front of him, drenched in sweat.

He wasn't entirely sure where Amma had run off to, but he figured his best course of action would be to return to work and try to build a figurative bridge with his roommate. Rory wasn't one for grudges, but in the heat of the moment and the height of the sun, things were born to be a tad heated.

“Y’know Bulltrue has a metal bender right?” Lorcán teased before picking up some of the metal. Looking over Rory’s shoulder at the plans, Lorcán superheated it, moulding the metal with relative ease before tossing it aside.

“I mean I suppose you can keep bustin’ your hump out here and ignoring me. That’s cool, I get it. But you’re only tiring yourself out.” He added, bending another piece of heated metal and tossing it aside before cutting through the next like hot butter.

“Tiring yourself out before your night with Sky Betty as I heard.” Lorcán added attempting to break the tension with a jab to Rory’s ribs that prompted a grunt and a turn as the other young man continued to work without so much as acknowledging the younger team member.

“Look, you can be angry all you want, but at least I didn't ask Haven to the dance. That was a pretty kook thing to do.” Lorcán sliced through another piece of metal nearly overheating it before tossing it aside.

“None of this matters anyway, you’re just as raked under as I am. No degree, what are you going to do? Even I know there aren’t a lot of options for a Jake with your abilities.” His tone softened,

“Look, I’m sorry I ran off. It wasn't my intention to actually leave you with the work. Why don't you power up? Even in three minutes the two of us can blast through the rest of this and I’ll cover the rest once you tap out.”

He extended a hand to Rory.

“Come on, wolves stick together, dude, two of us would be better than one. If you’re eager to see this through, let me help you, bro.”

[Rockette]

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_{Location: Southern Plateau - Pacific Royal Campus}

Welcome Home #1.079: shameless.

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_{Interaction(s): lorcán roth. - @Lord Wraith & rory tyler. - @webboysurf}

Previously: in your heart.

He bid that she go first, and it had taken nearly a full minute to realize exactly why, and within her eyes aglow in spectral remnants of blue, Amma could not deny the telltale flush of her cheeks as she looked down. The parting of her lips, the heat that bloomed in her belly that was not entirely the fault of the flux of power that pricked her skin, the hesitation she felt in leaving Lorcán to his whims.

What would happen if she stayed? What would happen if their powers had merged for just a second longer? What would happen if she had been the creature that once took all and gave everything with breathless sighs and moans and cries of lust and greed?

But --

Amma had risen, so slowly and had left, just like that.

Taking the scenic route back seemed wise.

Her powers had only been intended and meant for one purpose: destruction. The type that rendered reality to ash, the type that had marred her dreams and waking world in tides of crimson and black, tainted was a word that had once been leashed around her throat. Power was a raw, primal force that corded her bones and blood and was illustrated in the whips of red and silver and plumes of obsidian that arose around her, swept through the air, and forced her chest to rise with the taste of death on her tongue. With Lorcán though, it had been different, it had been something powerful but there had been warmth and life that wove through the fringes of her chaos and amplified it to something - well, more. She shuddered at the loss, looked down at her hands, and could see the sluggish crawl of her power that refused to sink beneath her flesh or dissipate. Such was a common thing, as Amma was so deeply entwined with the HZEs within herself and her outer world that it was constantly in a degree of inundation like a rushing river that could not be tamed. Like the ocean that possessed endless depths and endless darkness.

Amma's breath came in a harsh gasp. To contain herself was a struggle, and it reminded her of a time she had been lain to a slab of metal and shot through endlessly with something that turned her power to one of cruelty and damnation, something that had ended --

NO.

Her arms curled around her middle as she shuttered her mind from those memories, the roar and whispers betwixt her ears going silent, for a just moment, as her teeth sliced into the pout of her lip and held. She tasted blood, but within the coppery taste: she also tasted temperance and life and the illusion of peace that held her fast and fastened her to reality.

That euphoric feeling that bloomed from her heart was addicting all in its own and Amma decided then and there that she wanted to feel it again. And again.
But would he want the same?

She remembers around the fire, as she sat across from them, the pretty redhead nestled against his shoulder. The picture of home, of peace, the couple of innocence. The two that framed this illusion of serenity now shot through with a vicious strike of scarlet.

Did she feel bad? No.
However, it did not mean that Lorcán wasn't marked with shame or guilt, but if such had been true, would he have taken her in his arms then and swept them away to a place to call their own?

Amma glanced over her shoulder, some feet away -- but he was already gone.

Her walk back to the field had been a slow meander marked by the strikes of red that fizzled away from her shoulders, time was irrelevant at this moment as others continued to work, seemingly picking up the slack they had left behind. Multiple pairs of eyes flocked to her immediately, distrust simmered there, banked behind distaste and some fringed in hate. Amma held herself high, gaze critical and fanned by her lashes as she dipped her chin, a silent challenge emanating from her posture as she flicked her wrist and allowed the manifest of red to curl within her palm. Some relinquished their glares immediately, others tensed, dropped their work, and faced her completely, but it lasted for only a few seconds as they realized she had returned after a certain Blackjack member.

Everything was slowly returning to normal - if there could ever be such a thing.

Amma released the tension that seized her muscles in a vice and made to return to her work, only for Lorcán and Rory to be surrounded by their own sphere of emotional strain. She caught some of the words exchanged and the efforts made to ease the sting of their sudden departure. Her eyes collided with the blue stare of one Rory Tyler and within those windows often alighted in exuberance, Amma saw the suspicion that manipulated that glare into one of warning. Carefully, she slid her eyes towards Lorcán, and through every plane of muscle, and flesh, she marked him with each sweep of her lashes before she slid that gaze back toward Rory. In much the same flourish, she tacked the steady glow of her regard down his figure and back up, a slow smile slid to punctuate each cheek, spread wide and marking where her teeth had previously bit into her lower lip. Familiar. Possessive.

She said nothing, for no words were needed before Amma made to grab the jacket she left behind and slid it on in deliberate slowness, making little effort to allow them privacy before she hefted a respectful amount of metal bars into her arms and moved some distance away, making sure to grab her own copy of blueprints along the way.

In no time at all, without much thought, she measured only once and sliced through nearly every single one with a drone of power that even scoured the very ground like the claw marks of a beast.

[Qia]

As Gil strode away, Harper was left standing, a flustered smile playing on her lips, her cheeks warm with a blush that refused to fade. Robert quietly stifled a chuckle while Tad just shook his head, exchanging a knowing look with the larger man.

Harper cleared her throat, her smile widening despite the embarrassment. "He’s kidding, of course! We were just gonna…uh…um.” Her voice trailed off, the words deserting her just when she needed them most. It was ironic, really; her mind had been so quick to spin easy flirtations earlier, yet now, it seemed to have taken a leave of absence.

Well to hell with you too, then!

The brunette laughed softly, a self-deprecating sound that held a hint of the nerves she felt.
“We’re just going to discuss the Trials,”she finally managed, her tone light, though her heart still raced with the thought of Gil’s wink. “You know, what it could look like and stuff.”

"I cannot speak for your Team Representative," Robert interjected, "But I do not need to worry about your personal business. It is none of my concern."

"Just remember to use the tent's sound-dampening mode so the rest of the team can sleep through your 'discussion'." Tad teased, "But seriously, Harper, this plateau has seen a lot worse than less than subtle innuendo. You're by far the most responsible member of this team and I have no reason to question your decision-making." He looked towards Gil, before his eyes wandered to Rory.

"Theirs on the other hand," He rocked a hand back and forth in front of Harper. "Eh."

"But good luck with setting up the trial, try not to duplicate too much of yours from last year," Tad added, bidding Harper adieu as he moved back towards the team's campsite.

Harper, after acknowledging Robert with a nod, made her way to her assigned area, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Tad’s words lingered, some bringing a smile, others a frown.

Would the most dutiful student genuinely put the school's image at risk or wish to set aside her obligations, even briefly, for her own cravings? Unlikely.

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_{Location: Southern Plateau - Pacific Royal Campus}

Welcome Home #1.080: Trials and Tribulations Part 1: Vive la Révolution

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_{Interaction(s):Calliope-@PatientBean,Mei-@Garden Gnome}

Previously: Leap of Faith

The brunette approached the designated meeting spot, her steps measured and purposeful despite everything. Calliope was already there, her presence a steady beacon, and Mei arrived shortly after, her quick steps betraying her eagerness. Harper’s mind, though momentarily distracted by thoughts of Gil, refocused with clarity on the task before them. The Trials weren’t just a competition; they were a rite of passage for the new students, a reflection of the very soul of each house. She felt the mantle of leadership settle upon her then, a weight she bore with a mix of trepidation and pride.

"Hello, team. Ready to brainstorm theme ideas?"Calliope greeted, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, I already have a few ideas,”she responded, her finger tapping rhythmically against her chin. “How do we feel about mazes?”

Calliope rubbed the back of her head. “So…I like mazes. Mazes are a good idea, but let’s focus on the theme first. That way, at least, we can then coordinate the obstacles. I was thinking, given recent events, of it being a Hunger Games theme. It sort of plays nicely into it being a trial to overcome, minus the deaths of course. Plus it would be a, hopefully, subtle middle finger to the Foundation. You know, going after the authorities for making children jump through dangerous hoops? But I am open to other ideas.”

Harper mentally scolded herself. She had gotten too far ahead. Or maybe it was simply Calliope’s presence that was throwing her off. She didn’t often find herself in conversation with the girl, after all. As for her suggestion…

Harper cleared her throat, one eyebrow shooting up in slight concern. “So, your idea has merit. It’s provocative and pretty timely, but…I think we need to balance boldness with sensitivity here. The Hunger Games also carries connotations of violence and oppression, and as much as I want to stick it to the Foundation as well for the things said during the ceremony, we don’t want the school to be seen in a bad light." She couldn't ignore the feeling that she was being hypocritical, even as she voiced her concerns. Still, it wasn’t like it was the Foundation that made them lose their degrees, at least as far as any of them knew.
“But, what do you think Mei?” the brunette addressed their third teammate, not wanting to leave her out. Harper had a feeling that would happen quite a bit without some sort of mediator between her and Calliope.

Mei was considering the ideas brought up by her fellow teammates and had developed some of her own.“My idea of a maze concept is inspired by the Maze Runner series. It emphasizes the value of teamwork and also tests relationships and how people work with one another to achieve a common goal. They would also have to be constantly on the lookout to find creative ways to overcome obstacles and solve problems.”She let out a giggle and she continued. “If others would like to compare WICKED to the foundation, then let them do it, so long as we do not openly mention anything about their similarity ourselves.”

Harper’s expression softened, her head nodding along in agreement with everything Mei was saying. An idea occurred to her then. A way to combine all their ideas while still leaving the messages they wished to send to the Foundation.

“What if we illuminate all three?”she proposed.“The Maze Runner, The Hunger Games, and Divergent—each offers a unique perspective on the trials we face as hyperhumans, don’t you think?”She leaned forward, her hands unfolding as if to reveal the vision taking shape before them. “The Maze Runner would test their intellect and unity, the Hunger Games resilience and adaptability, and Divergent individuality and strength of each person’s convictions.”

Calliope had to admit, they took her idea and made it better. “Clever idea. So long as it gets that message across, we can do all of that. I’ll admit, I only read The Hunger Games so you’ll have to catch me up on Divergent and Maze Runner.” Calliope would not admit she wasn’t allowed to read those books because of how they perpetuated the idea of overcoming authority and striking out on your own. Her father would never have allowed it. She only read Hunger Games in secret.

“You should totally read the Maze Runner series if you can. It’s the bomb.” Mei commented as she listened to Calliope’s revelation that she had not read the popular series before. She then continued, acknowledging Harper’s idea of combining all three different series into one concept. “That’s also a good idea Harper. That way it isn’t just focused on just one idea, but a slightly more original idea by combining them three into a singular concept on its own.”

“So it’s settled then,” Harper said, nodding thoughtfully. “Now, I think we need to try and work out which of the core values of each house fits into each book. That way, it’s a little easier to come up with challenges that both test and celebrate these qualities.”

Calliope was quiet for a moment, thinking. She didn’t know the other books but it sounded like Mei and Harper did. “What about this? Since you both know the other books and there are eight schoolhouses, why don’t we split it up three ways? I can work Hunger Games trial events and one of you can do Divergent and the other Maze Runner. And then we can decide what houses we want to represent and use them in our events. I personally would like to keep my house Ursus, but otherwise, I am not picky. And then we can coordinate the challenges to ensure we aren’t doing the same thing.”

Harper surveyed her other teammate, considering Calliope’s suggestion.
“That’s fine with me. Mei, since it was your idea, why don’t you do the Maze Runner, then? I’ll take Divergent.” Harper pursed her lips in thought of the values held by each house. What would be the best way to split them up? Her brow furrowed as she looked up, mentally arranging the houses into an intricate matrix, each column a book, each row a house, intersecting at the virtues they extolled.

• House Alces: “There’s a house in Divergent that’s like Alces, so I’ll take them.”
• House Canis: “You can have Canis Mei since it’s your house.”
• House Gulo: “Gulo’s assertive and pragmatic spirit could be tested in the mazes of The Maze Runner so they’ll also be yours, Mei, if that’s okay?”
• House Lutra: “I’ll take Lutra for the same reason I took Alces.”
• House Lynx: “If I had to pick a house for Peeta, who’s pretty social and optimistic, it would be Lynx. That one’s all yours, Call.”
• House Myotis: “Myotis is known for its creativity, and I think you’d need a lot of that to get out of a maze.”
• House Strigidae: “Strigidae’s mine.”
• House Ursus: “ And, last but most certainly not least, Ursus is yours, Call.”

With a brief pause, Harper met the gazes of her two teammates again, scratching the back of her head in sudden self-awareness. She sincerely hoped she hadn’t overwhelmed either of them.
“So…any questions, concerns or new ideas?”

“I’m alright with taking Canis, Myotis, and Gulo.” Mei nodded as she agreed to the suggestions by Harper on the schoolhouses to be assigned. “What are your plans for the challenges? I’m thinking of having mine be inspired or tailored to the Maze Runner theme. The different roles found in Maze Runner such as Runner, Builder, Cook, Slicer and such all have different sets of responsibilities, so I think this can be easily interwoven into any challenges planned.”

“Well Hunger Games was more about taking out your competition, but obviously I don’t want people killing each other over this. Ursus is easy. I was thinking of having a gauntlet where they have to pass through being shot at. Obviously not with anything lethal, but maybe something safe but annoying, like glue bombs. But anyway, the point is to see how altruistic and protective they can be in helping others get through it or if they just decide to fend for themselves. Kind of like how Katniss and Rue form a protective friendship.”

“Lynx is a bit trickier because they are sociable and optimistic. I was thinking maybe it is like when they ask the competitors questions and it's filmed in all the districts. Sort of like a debate, but it is judging if they can answer the question in a positive way. Maybe the questions are tough and negative and they have to swing it the opposite way. I’m open to suggestions too.”

Harper listened intently to Mei and Calliope, her mind piecing together the fragments of their ideas. As Mei spoke of the roles in The Maze Runner and Calliope described the gauntlet inspired by the Hunger Games, Harper’s thoughts began to coalesce into a singular, innovative concept.
She interjected with a spark of inspiration in her voice. “Wait, what if we combine all these elements into one cohesive challenge again? An escape room maybe…. that’s a representation of our entire school, each section representing the values and challenges associated with each house.” Harper continued to outline her thoughts, her voice steady and confident.“So, we’ll have a section with a maze, one with a gauntlet, another involving intellectual puzzles, and a debate arena for last. With the arena, the freshies would have a better idea of the group they’d been working with for the other sections, so we could also ask some tough social questions.” She leaned forward, her expression earnest. “So it won’t be just about finding the right answers, but also about revealing character.”

Mei nodded in agreement as she listened to Harper detailing her idea of combining everything had been said into one cohesive concept. “I agree with this. Shall we move forward with this escape room concept then? We don’t have to use all the roles I’ve mentioned. We can just use the ones that make sense for this concept.” They could go on all day arguing about the pros and cons about their own idea, but they had to come to a compromise at some point if they wanted to move forward with their plans, and Mei was happy enough to settle with what was mentioned.