Aviaire

Surviving in a D-Tier Magical Academy - Always Accepting -

@stone trying to butter me up huh

enjoy my low quality doodle
top 10 photos taken seconds before disaster

Surviving in a D-Tier Magical Academy - Always Accepting -

august is the best month

The admissions officer was beginning to wonder when his break was. He took a sip from his drink, that despite him having drank its contents at least five times over, was still not empty.

(The fact that it was beginning to taste less and less like coffee by the second might have been why.)

In walked his next interviewee. He set the cup down, taking note of how it had become purple. That didn't seem right, but he didn't have the time nor will to complain. He shuffled with the papers before him until he found one with a photo that matched the boy who had just walked in.

"Augustus Walter Lacey-Vane," he declared, taking his seat opposite the interviewer. He leaned onto the table, perhaps too far. "The second, after my father."

The interviewer shuffled back uncomfortably. "Are you supposed to be here? The appointment for this time is... August Lacey."

"Oh," August said. "Oh, yes, that's me." He sounded offended.

The admissions officer skimmed the rest of his application. Seventeen. Male. Human. From the Federation, a small region that wasn't doing too well as of late. Appearance... he crossed out the neatly penned "6'2" and wrote "5'11" in its place. The photo was more or less accurate. Well dressed (was that the same suit he was wearing to the interview?), with uneven hair - longer on the left, shorter on the right. Whoever had cut it must have been blind.

"Physical abilities and skills," the interviewer muttered.

"Oh, yes! Well, you see, I-"

"Piano, poetry, sewing, embroidery. There's a hobbies section, you know. These aren't physical abilities."

"I have to use my body to do them. Therefore, they are 'physical' skills."

The admissions officer gave him a withering look. "Right, and then for your magical skills, you've written 'curses'. Would you... would you care to elaborate?" He was almost afraid to ask.

"It's very simple. Curses, unlike regular spell casting, have potent effects that-"

The admissions officer grimaced.

"-last for long amounts of time, often with the intent to harm the victim. No throwing lava around (but of course, I can still do that!), but I could certainly make you feel like you were on fire for the next hour." August reached into his pocket, bringing out - was that a guinea pig? "Now, I've prepared a demonstration."

"There's no need," the interviewer said quickly, snatching the animal off of the table. "Really, there isn't. You've got an interest in potion making?"

"Drinkable curses," August said, nodding sagely.

"I see. And then..." the admissions officer trailed off as he gazed at the page. The handwriting had changed from (presumably August's) neat print to looping cursive.

Magical Quirks: Afflicted with a curse that causes anything he touches to slowly freeze over. Given to him by his birth mother, my husband's mistress. Please accept him. Contact the Vanes if any additional persuasion is needed.

Bribe or not, the boy would probably be allowed in, but the admissions officer thought about his salary and scribbled a note to himself.

"For interests, you've written the same as your physical skills section, but you've included tea?"

"Yes."

"Alright then. Final question. Why have you chosen to Fae Creek?"

"Oh, because I've heard... all sorts of wonderful things about it! Yes, it is a very accomplished school. I would be really, really happy if I got in." His smile said sincerity, but his eyes said desperation.

Previous Incidents: Former student of the Imperial Institute of Magic. Accidentally froze over several dorm rooms when forgetting to wear gloves when sleeping, rendering them unusable for a month. Punishment for vandalism and and curse fraud: permanent exclusion and compensation to be paid.

"It says here you used to go to the Institute," the admissions officer said plainly.

"What? Oh, does it now," August whined. He had been caught. "Well, that wasn't my fault! Mother forgot to tell them I had a curse. See, I didn't do anything. Anyway, they fixed everything in the end. It wasn't even that bad. It was way slower back then. It was only a few rooms. There was a girl who burned down the entire new science wing earlier that year. They've got to rebuild that entire thing, but all they had to do for me was melt it and maybe replace a bit of furniture."

"I see. That concludes the interview." The admissions officer reached out for a handshake, which August graciously took. A good, firm, grip and- oh.

His hand was freezing cold, even through the glove. The interviewer could feel the hard ice underneath the fabric. As August's grip tightened, he could feel them crunch and break.

"Oh, sorry!" he gasped, taking his hand back. August pulled off his glove. Ice shards fell to the floor. His poor, poor carpet. "It does that sometimes. Uh, thank you for your time. Have a great morning." He smiled widely, putting the glove back on and hastily making his exit before the interviewer could speak again.

Was it still the morning? The admissions officer groaned, moving to hold his head in his hands. But in his left hand...

...he was still holding the guinea pig.

Surviving in a D-Tier Magical Academy - Always Accepting -

honestly i keep reading these sheets because they're so entertaining. good job all.

Surviving in a D-Tier Magical Academy - Always Accepting -

they have enough people to form a club

Surviving in a D-Tier Magical Academy - Always Accepting -

If we've got coed dorms, I've got a character from a novel I'm brainstorming that would be perfect for Augustus' roomie... in an oil-and-water sort of way.

@blackdragon

👀

Surviving in a D-Tier Magical Academy - Always Accepting -

these interview-style CS are super fun to write

august is the best month

The admissions officer was beginning to wonder when his break was. He took a sip from his drink, that despite him having drank its contents at least five times over, was still not empty.

(The fact that it was beginning to taste less and less like coffee by the second might have been why.)

In walked his next interviewee. He set the cup down, taking note of how it had become purple. That didn't seem right, but he didn't have the time nor will to complain. He shuffled with the papers before him until he found one with a photo that matched the boy who had just walked in.

"Augustus Walter Lacey-Vane," he declared, taking his seat opposite the interviewer. He leaned onto the table, perhaps too far. "The second, after my father."

The interviewer shuffled back uncomfortably. "Are you supposed to be here? The appointment for this time is... August Lacey."

"Oh," August said. "Oh, yes, that's me." He sounded offended.

The admissions officer skimmed the rest of his application. Seventeen. Male. Human. From the Federation, a small region that wasn't doing too well as of late. Appearance... he crossed out the neatly penned "6'2" and wrote "5'11" in its place. The photo was more or less accurate. Well dressed (was that the same suit he was wearing to the interview?), with uneven hair - longer on the left, shorter on the right. Whoever had cut it must have been blind.

"Physical abilities and skills," the interviewer muttered.

"Oh, yes! Well, you see, I-"

"Piano, poetry, sewing, embroidery. There's a hobbies section, you know. These aren't physical abilities."

"I have to use my body to do them. Therefore, they are 'physical' skills."

The admissions officer gave him a withering look. "Right, and then for your magical skills, you've written 'curses'. Would you... would you care to elaborate?" He was almost afraid to ask.

"It's very simple. Curses, unlike regular spell casting, have potent effects that-"

The admissions officer grimaced.

"-last for long amounts of time, often with the intent to harm the victim. No throwing lava around (but of course, I can still do that!), but I could certainly make you feel like you were on fire for the next hour." August reached into his pocket, bringing out - was that a guinea pig? "Now, I've prepared a demonstration."

"There's no need," the interviewer said quickly, snatching the animal off of the table. "Really, there isn't. You've got an interest in potion making?"

"Drinkable curses," August said, nodding sagely.

"I see. And then..." the admissions officer trailed off as he gazed at the page. The handwriting had changed from (presumably August's) neat print to looping cursive.

Magical Quirks: Afflicted with a curse that causes anything he touches to slowly freeze over. Given to him by his birth mother, my husband's mistress. Please accept him. Contact the Vanes if any additional persuasion is needed.

Bribe or not, the boy would probably be allowed in, but the admissions officer thought about his salary and scribbled a note to himself.

"For interests, you've written the same as your physical skills section, but you've included tea?"

"Yes."

"Alright then. Final question. Why have you chosen to Fae Creek?"

"Oh, because I've heard... all sorts of wonderful things about it! Yes, it is a very accomplished school. I would be really, really happy if I got in." His smile said sincerity, but his eyes said desperation.

Previous Incidents: Former student of the Imperial Institute of Magic. Accidentally froze over several dorm rooms when forgetting to wear gloves when sleeping, rendering them unusable for a month. Punishment for vandalism and and curse fraud: permanent exclusion and compensation to be paid.

"It says here you used to go to the Institute," the admissions officer said plainly.

"What? Oh, does it now," August whined. He had been caught. "Well, that wasn't my fault! Mother forgot to tell them I had a curse. See, I didn't do anything. Anyway, they fixed everything in the end. It wasn't even that bad. It was way slower back then. It was only a few rooms. There was a girl who burned down the entire new science wing earlier that year. They've got to rebuild that entire thing, but all they had to do for me was melt it and maybe replace a bit of furniture."

"I see. That concludes the interview." The admissions officer reached out for a handshake, which August graciously took. A good, firm, grip and- oh.

His hand was freezing cold, even through the glove. The interviewer could feel the hard ice underneath the fabric. As August's grip tightened, he could feel them crunch and break.

"Oh, sorry!" he gasped, taking his hand back. August pulled off his glove. Ice shards fell to the floor. His poor, poor carpet. "It does that sometimes. Uh, thank you for your time. Have a great morning." He smiled widely, putting the glove back on and hastily making his exit before the interviewer could speak again.

Was it still the morning? The admissions officer groaned, moving to hold his head in his hands. But in his left hand...

...he was still holding the guinea pig.

Hillhaven : The Fantasy Frontier

wizardman

Alastair Doppler

^{"It will one hundred percent, absolutely, definitely rain tomorrow."}

[+]

---

Census Profile

Full Name: Alastair Doppler
Age: ??? (He's certainly not young, that's for sure.)
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Birthday: Breithe 10
Appearance: Taller than average, presumably male from the sound of his raspy voice. There's not much else to say about his appearance, because he's always wearing that thick cloak that leaves everything to the imagination, even in the hottest days of Aburand.
Job Title: Wizard. Something of that sort, anyway. He certainly does magic, and you can buy all sorts off of him, but they're not always... reliable. Alastair is notorious for his weather predictions - which have never, ever been correct, no matter how much he insists they are. Because of this, they're actually quite useful.
Residency: He's been in Hillhaven for as long as it's existed. Before then, too.

---

Social Profile

Positive Traits: Knowledgable | Sincere | Intuitive
Negative Traits: Eccentric | Habitual | Delusional

Likes:
• If it sparkles, it must be good.
• Animals, all of them.
• Music and dancing. Just not when he's doing it.
• Sweet foods.
• Peaches!

Dislikes:
• Rain - chances are he didn't expect it. It makes the trek to the village more difficult.
• Cleaning, any form of it. His tower is beyond saving.
• Crowds.
• Hot weather.
• Anything dairy.

Hobbies: Magic, of course! Other than that, Alastair's made a hobby out of translating old documents in equally old languages. Somehow, they're more understandable than his mentor's research. He's also taken up yoga as of late, which his wonderful wolf Cumulupus (sort of) participates in too.

---

^{Heart Meter}

• Cumulupus - ♥♥♥♥♥
• Rel - ♥♥♥♥♥

Hillhaven : The Fantasy Frontier

here we go

wizardman

Alastair Doppler

^{"It will one hundred percent, absolutely, definitely rain tomorrow."}

[+]

---

Census Profile

Full Name: Alastair Doppler
Age: ??? (He's certainly not young, that's for sure.)
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Birthday: Breithe 10
Appearance: Taller than average, presumably male from the sound of his raspy voice. There's not much else to say about his appearance, because he's always wearing that thick cloak that leaves everything to the imagination, even in the hottest days of Aburand.
Job Title: Wizard. Something of that sort, anyway. He certainly does magic, and you can buy all sorts off of him, but they're not always... reliable. Alastair is notorious for his weather predictions - which have never, ever been correct, no matter how much he insists they are. Because of this, they're actually quite useful.
Residency: He's been in Hillhaven for as long as it's existed. Before then, too.

---

Social Profile

Positive Traits: Knowledgable | Sincere | Intuitive
Negative Traits: Eccentric | Habitual | Delusional

Likes:
• If it sparkles, it must be good.
• Animals, all of them.
• Music and dancing. Just not when he's doing it.
• Sweet foods.
• Peaches!

Dislikes:
• Rain - chances are he didn't expect it. It makes the trek to the village more difficult.
• Cleaning, any form of it. His tower is beyond saving.
• Crowds.
• Hot weather.
• Anything dairy.

Hobbies: Magic, of course! Other than that, Alastair's made a hobby out of translating old documents in equally old languages. Somehow, they're more understandable than his mentor's research. He's also taken up yoga as of late, which his wonderful wolf Cumulupus (sort of) participates in too.

---

^{Heart Meter}

• Cumulupus - ♥♥♥♥♥

Surviving in a D-Tier Magical Academy

tentative interest

(having said that i'll most likely join)

totally normal school SoL no murder here no sir [aviaire & stone]

---

“Hey, Neu, mind giving me a hand on differentials?”

“Not another- I’m busy, so can’t you find someone else to harass?”

“Agh, alright.”

James went to Ella. “Is Jackson around? I need math help and he seems to do okay in class.”

She shook her head repeatedly. “Don’t ask him for help. I love the guy, but he’s useless, you know? He kept derailing. I ended up doing worse on that test than I did studying on my own.”

“Ah. Attention span of a fifth grader. Got it.”

James went to his normal spot at the Semookstian table. Emma was off somewhere. Just the boys today. Shame. Emma usually answered questions in class.

“Guys… I need a hand with differentials and nobody else is being helpful. Mook?”

Mook grinned. “Sebastian’s good at math,” he said, giving him a hard pat on the back. Sebastian flinched from the force.

“No, I’m not,” he said.

“Please..? I lost track after the third example problem… I just need a bit of explanation…”

“I can’t help you. Don’t know how.”

“Seb, don’t be like that! You’re so good. You helped me with all that stuff last year. You can help James too,” Seth chimed in.

James smiled. “Just a few problems. You can lord your superiority over me too.”

Sebastian looked around at the table. He stopped on James, blinking a few times.

“Yeah, okay.”

James pumped his fist. “Thanks. Knew I could count on you.”

The tutoring went alright. Sebastian was a surprisingly good teacher. He got a little irritated whenever James didn’t get something, but he went over things the best he could. It was almost like a completely different person. James eventually figured out what the hell he was supposed to do, and finished the set.

“Oh man, thanks! Math isn’t my strong suit at all… I only got 20% on the mathematics portion of the entrance exam..” James leaned back and sighed, his hand aching from writing so much.

“Twenty? You’re either rich or a god of English,” Sebastian muttered. “Anyway, don’t mention it. Seriously, don’t, or Mina’s gonna start annoying me to help her. Let’s head back now. Seth said I could copy the Chemistry homework off him, and I haven’t done it yet.”

“Just a bit of both. My folks aren’t crazy rich, and I looooove Lit. Thanks so much. I uh, won’t talk about it around Mina.”

Sebastian smiled slightly. “No problem.”

---

The library. A place to read, to study, to…

To gossip.

“But he’s kinda cute, right? Like, you know, in the way that a stray cat is cute,” a girl said, much louder than was acceptable. Her chair creaked as she swung on it. Mina Mason, the girl. who was barely clinging onto her place at HAGAY. Despite that, she wasn’t studying at all.

James grabbed a book and sat down to read for a little. He wasn’t super close, but Mina was being rather loud and he couldn’t help but overhear.

“I don’t see it,” Porche sighed. “I really, really don’t, Mina.”

“I liked his old hair way better,” Emma replied. “But his jawline, I gotta say…” The rest of the table nodded vigorously. Except for Yam, who watched them with mild interest, head in her arms and lying on the desk.

James got up and moved behind a bookshelf, trying to block out the noise. Unfortunately, the study room wasn’t very large; he couldn’t escape their chatter.

“Okay, Emma, we can’t all be dating total catches,” Mina whined. “Bit short, but it’s your fault for being tall.”

“There aren’t enough people in this school,” Porche said. “The boys in our class just aren’t it, honestly.”

“Seb’s good looking. Mook too, sort of. He just reminds me of a ferret,” Mina said.

James could see it. He kept on looking at the book, but hearing gossip was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

“Mook’s not really my type,” Porche said. “Good point about Sebastian- Seb, though. I’d go for that, but he seems like kind of a pain.”

Mina nodded. “Yeah, and dating your friend’s ex is a no-go. Gotta pass on that ass.” Emma broke down into laughter.

“Mina- Mina, I told you to stop telling people that!” she cackled. “We were seven!”

“And you broke up when you were nine, which is old enough for it to count. Jeez, people our age can’t even stay in a relationship for that long.”

“Oh? Aren’t you the player, Emma?” Porche said. The table dissolved into giggles.

“Leave me alone,” Emma said, but she wasn’t angry. Quite the opposite, she was struggling not to laugh. “We never did anything but hold hands. I swear!”

“Date a man for two years, break up with him, and then go out with his best friend? You fiend!” Porche gasped in mock horror. “Absolutely horrific.”

“How could I ever atone?” Emma grinned. “Oh, I have pictures of Seb as a kid. He’s super lanky now, but he was worse before. Hang on, let me find them.” The table quieted in anticipation, then began to laugh even harder.

“Awful, awful,” Porche gasped. “I can’t believe that. I’m never going to be able to talk to him again. Hey, what’s the exchange student like?”

Elise swiped across a few photos. “Here.”

“Ohhhhhh,” Mina said. “Finally, some good fucking food.”

“Cute, but not really my type,” Porche said. The other two looked at her like she was an alien. “Leave me alone. I said he’s cute, that’s enough.”

“What is your type, then?” Emma asked.

“Hmm… dark hair, dark eyes, all that.”

“Explains Seb. The other new kid’s kinda like that, isn’t he?” Mina said.

“Yeah, but the rest of him doesn’t do a lot for me, y’know?” Porche replied. “That sounds kinda mean. Whoops.”

James snorted softly from behind the bookshelf. Thanks.

“Oh, Porche! What if he was in here too? His poor feelings!” Emma laughed.

“No, no, that’s not what I-” The conversation stopped in favour of laughing once more. Yam turned her head to the bookcase, chuckling a little. James could see her through the gaps above the books, long dark hair covering most of her face. He smiled and gave a small wave. She winked in return before sitting up properly.

“He’s probably in the canteen,” Yam said to Porche. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just us in here.” She slumped back down into her seat, but didn’t look back at James.

Yam Lee, huh? Seems like a funny girl, James thought. I’ll have to thank her later for all this tea. The book sat on his lap, abandoned. He picked it up and continued to “read.”

“Right,” Porche replied, sounding uncertain.

“Wow, that’s more words than I’ve ever heard you say before,” Mina said.

“Maybe I just felt like talking,” Yam mumbleed into her arm.

“Well, don’t stop,” Emma said. “Come on! Who’s the best looking guy in the class?”

Yam paused to think. “That foreign exchange student. Let me sleep now, okay?”

“Really coming out of your shell,” Mina cooed. “His name’s Axel, right? That’s hot.”

“Careful, careful, don’t want Blue getting jealous,” Emma said.

“Blue?” Porche said.

“Oh, right. Neu. ‘Cause every time he leaves the house he doesn’t wear anything but blue. Like, I see him around town sometimes and he’s only ever in a different colour when he’s in school,” Emma said.

Mina rolled her eyes. “Please. If he could make me spend time with someone else, he’d pay for it. I just harass him for tutoring. I think he plots my murder in class, you know.”

“Well, if you die, we’ll know who did it,” Porche said. “We’ll avenge you, I swear!”

“Maybe I should ask him too,” Yam said into the table.

“Oh, what did you want it for?” Emma said. “If it’s maths, I can help, you know. I’m pretty good! If you’re free Friday, you can come over to mine or something. I’ll teach you some stuff.”

“Seriously?” Yam said. “I’ll text you later. Thanks.”

“If you need help, Porche, I can do that for you too. But not Mina. She’s a lost cause.”

“I’m fine for now,” Porche grinned. “But thanks anyway. I’m sure I’ll need you soon.”

“You’re so nice, Emma,” Mina moaned. “No wonder you’ve got a boyfriend. But I can’t believe you’re ditching me for your date.”

“Sorry, sorry! I told you, we can go on Monday instead,” Emma said.

“Not a problem,” Mina replied. “I’m not mad. Have fun, yeah? It’s about time.” She turned to Porche. “They’ve been making heart eyes at each other for months now.”

“You poor thing,” Porche laughed. “Third wheel!”

“Sometimes it feels like I’m thirdwheeling Seth and Seb,” Emma groaned. “It’s so hard to get him on his own! It’s only when we text that it’s just us.”

“Bros before hoes. You gotta respect him,” Mina said.

“I can’t even be classed as ‘hoes’ like this!”

“Don’t think about it too much,” Porche advised. Emma slumped into her chair, Yam-style.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Think about more important things. Like… we have Chemistry next! And I’ve done the homework really shittily,” Mina said.

“We had homework?! Oh wait, I’ve done that,” Porche sighed. “Let’s get going, come on.” The girls began to rustle around with their bags.

James grabbed his stuff and ducked out the door, trying to avoid being seen. He stepped back and tried to make it seem like he was just passing by the study room. Porche gave him an apologetic look as they walked out, but none of them said anything. Yam lingered in the room, having told the others that she was looking for a book. Once they’d walked off, she slipped out, giving James a small wave.

“Thanks for the save there, Yam.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Not like they were gonna notice you. Forget about what Porche said, okay? Then we’re even.”

“Oh, no problem. If I took everything that was said about Mexicans to heart, I’d be turning myself in for drug crimes I haven’t committed.

Yam blew air out of her mouth pretty hard. “I get that. Anything else you wanna praise me for, or have I gotta go to Chemistry early?”

“You do a great job of not committing to conversation! I can feel the responsibility just sliding off you,” he joked.

She rolled her eyes. “Something like that.”

“Alright, let’s get to class.”

Yam nodded, sliding off of the wall she was leaning on, slowly making her way to the classroom. The way she walked was unusual, but it seemed intentional - not that it was how she normally moved, it looked more like she was just having a bit of fun, staring at her feet as she placed them right in front of each other.

James followed her to Chem. Interesting girl. Definitely one of the types to sit and watch the rowdy social interactions, then go in with a sly comment or two. One that lived for their own amusement.