EchoicChamber

Strange Town (Supernatural/Superhuman rp) Always Accepting!!!

Hello, everyone! I've been lurking this roleplay for a while now, and have become sort of interested, but I do have a few questions before I set down and send in an application.

1. Would it be alright if my character was a newcomer/someone who just wandered in after hearing about the town, and not a current resident?

2. Would it be okay if the character had a written description instead of a picture? I have a picture I use for the younger version of the character, but as I plan to play her as an adult, I've been having trouble finding a picture for her- especially since she's latina with a particularly unique appearance.

3. Is there any information in regards to other worlds/familiars/etc.?

Thank you! Sorry for pestering.

Persona in Wonderland: A Persona RP.

They weren’t alone.

The voices of six purred from the woods, each with their own little quirk- one more bubbly, another stiff, inexpressive. Gale found himself immensely curious with them, although his attention was hooked on one of their lines in particular. Such a small, insignificant little comment, so utterly lacking in detail, but so utterly interesting.

“That one over there...the chick...isn’t that…?”

Apparently, one of their number was familiar.

Gale’s eyes were kept wide in an expression, a look of alarm and childish fear, although internally he was spending more time mulling over what he had heard than anything else. The Politician’s little speech served as nothing but background noise, filed away for later inspection, but treated as background noise otherwise. Before the situation could escalate much further than thrown barbs and commentary, the Dorm Mouse had swept in, and they were running once more.

Evidently, they weren’t out of the woods yet, however- both metaphorically and quite literally. The same ichor that made up the Rabbit surrounded them, building into odd sorts of creatures. Creatures that were immune to what weapons had been given to them.

Except one, of course.

As their dear, self-appointed leader demonstrated.

Or perhaps not so self-appointed.

Dear, dear Alice.

Others began to call forth their own “Personas”, although as they burst with color and light and declarations of strength, Gale found himself...disconnected. As he were sitting as an audience of his own life, watching from a window deep within himself as he avoided the rage of the creatures. There was someone with him, and the someone was a gentleman with a soft face and the smell of smoke on his breath. They watched together, sitting in comfortable silence for a second that seemed to last hours, before the gentleman spoke.

“It’s quite the passion, isn’t it? In all of them.” His voice was a purr. Like warm honey, fresh from the hive. “Vengeance. Protection. The lust for life. Each of them, drawing from their desire for a common goal.”

“It’s certainly fascinating to watch,” Gale said without speaking.

“And yet, you feel nothing.”

“Do you, sir?”

The gentleman chuckled. “I’m a bit peckish, admittedly.” They both were. They both knew it. It wasn’t the hunger of the gut, but a more primal one, an emptiness inside their very being that begged and whispered and craved. They were husks in motion. The thought of death brought no fear. The thought of the children brought no sorrow.

There was only the hunger of the soul. The hunger to feel something, anything, but that gnawing that ran so deep that they would tear the flesh from their bones if it meant filling the void, the gnawing that lessened ever so slightly and mercifully only a few times in their life, when Gale was twisting the leg of a sparrow, hearing the bone snap like a twig and hearing its tortured scream and feeling the pulse quicken and still and the warmth run through his fingers-

“Yes.” His voice, their voice, was a sigh now as Gale’s thumb ran over the opened and closed Chronovoker. “I am thou. Thou art I. Let us fill our hunger until we burst, for I am a Geryon, and together, we are the monster of Deceit.”

Gale didn’t have to look to feel the creature manifest behind him. Instead, he only smiled, watched as the manifestation of his very soul sank its tail through the head of one of the monkeys, as the Shadow twitched and turned to ooze around it.

He brought his claws through a slime as it approached, although it was admittedly less cathartic to watch fall apart than the monkey was.

The monkeys would be his primary target.

Gale quite liked the monkeys.

The Marchand School of Sorcery

@KillBox Approved.

hello hello helloooo

@astrobex Welcome to the site! Hope you enjoy it. c:

The Marchand School of Sorcery

Hallway Outside Common Room

It didn’t take long for the others to begin arriving; filtering from one dorm hall or the next, or from wherever else in the school if they were particularly early risers. The weeks spent at Marchand let Dawn pick out a few familiar faces as they passed with an idle glance. There was the boy who had the strange tendency to take naps in front of a vent, there was the girl who would bring an entire party sized bottle of Fanta to class and take, slow, leisurely sips of the stuff throughout the hour. Dawn brightened up upon catching sight of a certain pair, however- one Nolan Santora, and Isaiah Parrish. She returned the waves of both with her own and a smile as she slipped out of the common room, stomach snarling a little as she did so. A part of her considered dropping back to chat with one of the other, but she dismissed it. They seemed a bit busy at the moment, and she could always seek them out later.

She had only made it a short distance away from the common room’s doors when she ran into another friend she had ended up making. Dawn ended up having to step back a little and tilt her head up to actually meet the other’s eyes, but there was warmth in her smile as she did so. “Oh, um. Hey, Layne. It’s...definitely been a really nice day so far. Although I feel like you might end up jinxing yourself if you say something like that.” Dawn herself was aware that it was a bit of an odd friendship, to say the least. Layne was just as large in personality as he was in build, and Dawn was...well. Pretty much the opposite, to say the least. Still, he had easily become one of of her closer- if not closest- friends, and it was something she was incredibly grateful for.

“I, um. Was just heading off to the dining hall to get something to eat. The common room’s been filling up pretty fast, so there’s probably going to be more people around...fairly soon, I think. Have you been doing anything interesting, yourself?” She paused a little as another student passed, bowing her head respectfully. “Good morning, Lucshen.” The name hadn’t gone unnoticed. It was the sort that left a bad taste in some mouths, perhaps- those who had been more heavily affected by war and conflict. Dawn was not one of those people, however. The name may have been a more scandalous one, but seeing that her own wasn’t exactly the most reputable, she hardly considered herself one to judge. She watched him go a moment, then turned back to Layne, absently scratching her side as she did so.

There was no sensation in the movement, but then again, that wasn’t something all that surprising.

@Oooie@akirashadow

---

Common Room

Percival let out a sort of noise that was a sort of blended mix between a scoff and a laugh. “‘Course I do. Who d’you take me for? If I’m not shoving pancakes down my gullet, what am I even doing? What is my identity? Am I still myself, or just some weird doppleganger that wound up taking my place without me even realizing? Christ, man.” Shaking his head a little, he followed his roommate all the way to the common room, making a beeline for the vending machine as he did so. He scanned over the options with the eyes of a hawk, pulled a dollar from his pocket, and with deft hands, slid it right in and punched in the number for a bag of Ruffles.

The machine grumbled its assent. The coil that pinned his delicious, savory breakfast in place began to unwind.

And then the bag fell against the glass and stayed there.

“Oh, come on!” Letting a groan of frustration, Percival pressed his face against the glass, staring longingly at the unnaturally orange cheese on the bag’s cover. “You can’t do this to me. This is a scam, I tell you. A fraud. A bamboozle!” After a few moments of staring at it with enough force to move it if looks could actually move things alone, he drew away, a look of defeat on his face. His frown of shame was replaced by a wide, face-splitting grin as a Professor wandered in, however- not just any Professor, however, but one that he was taking Defense under. Giving the vending machine a bitter smack (not a particularly hard one or anything, mind you, he’d heard enough horror stories of vending machines killing more than sharks) he sauntered over, settling himself beside Isaiah and in front of Professor Matheos.

“Oi,” he said. “What am I, here. Chopped liver?” The grin on his face made it pretty obvious that he didn’t actually feel too offended or anything, so he tried his best to make his “I am an upset and hurt student face” instead, with limited success.

You had to put in the effort at least, after all. Fifty percent of the time, effort led to success a hundred percent of the time.

@Prosaic@Gelatinous Cube

---

Dorms → Courtyard

The sparrow in Esperanza’s grp was not in its prime- she knew that well enough. It writhed between her fingers, attempting to kick and peck at the latex covering her hand, but it was weak. Its pulse fluttered weakly in its chest, and its feathers lacked the healthy sort of sheen that its younger company held in full.

Its time almost up.

Which is why it made things a bit more easier, in more ways than one.

Below the elder sparrow was a carefully positioned bowl. There were others sitting nearby just like it- crafted from glazed clay, and painted over with colorful blossoms and skulls and beauty. The one sitting in front of her had had most of its insides washed to fading, however, much more so than the others. Taking a deep breath, Esp lifted the knife up to the sparrow’s throat, and in one clean swipe, tore it open and let the blood flow free. Her thumb ran circles against the back of the bird’s head as its movements grew slower, and the bowl grew fuller, until it had gone completely still. She whispered an apology to it as she wrung it for the last drops, thanks for the life she had been able to give Death, and then gently lowered the body onto the plastic sheet beside her.

The procedure was routine from there on out. A medical scalpel split the bird open from neck to legs, making a neat “I” incision. It dove deeper, in and out, as Esperanza systematically removed the parts that had let it eat, breathe, live. Stomach, lungs, heart, liver- all that and more, she placed in their own, separate bowl for the time being. With that done, she packed the now hollow body with sawdust, then sewed it back up with an expert hand.

Three separate aspects. Without even one, life couldn’t exist. And without life, there was no death. Esp stared at all for a moment, taking the sight in. Putting it to memory. Then, gently running her fingers once more against the sparrow’s head, she picked it up and passed it over to Chu for safekeeping.

The body. Without the soul, without the meat of the flesh, it was nothing but a husk. She would be the one to bring purpose upon it once again, when the time came. This was passed to Chu for safekeeping.

The meat. The vital parts of a being when alive, no longer needed in death. They, too, would hold a new purpose, in bringing life anew. Sliding open her window, Esp set the bowl neatly on the sill and closed it again. She would retrieve it later, after it was emptied. After it had fed the hungry, becoming a part of a living being again, rejoining the cycle of life. She smiled, then moved onto the most important part of the ceremony.

The blood. The essence of life. Holding it carefully, so as to not spill a single drop, she lifted it over her statuette of Death herself and poured. She watched with reverence as it trailed over the painted, merciful face of bone. It soaked into the clothes, puddled at the feet. It was one with Death now, and she would treasure it.

Esp stared upon Death, her Lady, the Mother of the Ciervos, with a sense of uttermost reverence. Whispered prayers tumbled from her lips. She gave thanks for her newfound friends, for the joy she had found at Marchand, and her wishes that the future would grow even brighter.

The candles surrounding the Ceremony flickered, rising and falling and dancing with fervor.

The room plunged in temperature. The lights dimmed. She could feel them- she could feel her family, those who followed them, years upon years of life and death connected to her in this short, beautiful moment, and they were all watching and they were all connected and she could hear them, her voice rising and joining them in a glorious choir, tears running down her face, her voice raw as she chanted and screamed out her love and joy and soul-

And then the candles were snuffed into smoke, thin strands of gray fading lazily into the air. The room was back to normal. Sobbing, letting Chu lick her tears away, Esperanza began to clean the statue with shaking hands. It was only when it was completely clean that she planted a kiss on its feet- feet that had been worn smooth by years and years of practice.

The procedure of cleaning up helped ease Esperanza back from the clouds. The plastic was discarded, her arms freshly bandaged, and the silence ward she had placed down washed away.

She felt calm. Rejuvenated. Smiling brightly, Esp swept Chu into her arms, and strode out of her room. Death was always with her, always waiting for her, and it was the ceremonies that helped take away some of the homesickness that sometimes gnawed in her heart.

It also helped to have Chu with her. Her best, and dearest friend.

Her best and dearest friend who had also just squirmed loose of her grasp, leaping onto the floor with a bright squeal and dashing off down the hall.

Esp blinked. Her eyes went wide. And then she was stumbling on after him, trying to pursue the much faster Familiar as he bounded off. “Chu! Chu, wait!” She nearly tripped over her own two feet in her hurry, and almost ran into a few people in the common room- gasping out a few “Sorry!”s as she did so- but still kept up a close pursuit as he bounced down the stairs and led her off to wonders unknown.

These wonders unknown, as it turned out, wound up being the courtyard- which was currently being filled with the most lovely music. Esp slowed, head cocked to the side as she listened, then slipped outside and into the crisp morning air. She broke out in a cheerful smile as she caught sight of the two already there, and gave a enthusiastic wave to them as she approached.

“Hello Tatia and Vanya!” She beamed even brighter as she looked over to Tatia, eyeing the violin in her grasp. “Your song is very beautiful. I am sorry for interrupting. I was just following my Chu, because I was not wanting him to be lost.”

At the moment, Chu seemed in hardly of any danger of being lost. Digging into the bark of one of the trees with his paws- or, rather, hands- he shimmied up the tree, letting out a sharp cry of “Van!” as he attempted to work his way up to Vanya’s branch. It might have been a bit alarming to have a grinning beast from another dimension climb towards you like some sort of horror movie monster, but as Chu was Chu, and not a human being, he was more concerned with delightedly trying to get pets from the nice, funny-smelling person than his self image.

Chu was a good boy.

Such a good boy.

@LorelleQuips@Furiosa

The Marchand School of Sorcery

It had been several weeks since the first ever semester of Marchand Academy had begun.

And as far as things went at a magical high school, things had been...relatively calm, if not without the excitement that one would expect to come with a new school, new friends, and new, somewhat strange teachers.

Classes had begun as soon as Monday hit, giving the students ample time to get settled in and get to know one another. Friends were made. Some discussed their families, others chose other, safer grounds to tread on. The Professors hung in the background all the while. Some made an effort to interact and get to know their students, while others only really acknowledged their charges when the students made trouble or asked something- and even then, made it obvious that they’d rather be doing literally anything else.

As one might expect, when classes rolled around, these same teachers hardly changed in behavior.

Madison Lovette had been one of the more affable teachers- cheerfully answering questions and stepping in to resolve whatever trouble that needed to be dealt with. When class began, he kept his sunshine demeanor. Homework was light. Efforts were made in class to keep students engaged, despite the rather dry tone of the knowledge conveyed in history class (most of which included offering candy for particularly compelling responses in class discussions). He was an enthusiastic teacher, passionate. His Pyromancy class he taught with just as much excitement, although he didn’t teach in quite the most orthodox means.

Considering the fact that it essentially served as a glorified cooking-and-mundane magic use class.

There was no exciting burning of dummies. No very literal fire-fighting. Instead, they were expected to do...simpler things. Bake this cake. Roast this turkey. Boil tea. Light a candle, and put it out again. Subdue a campfire with your pyromancy alone.

Life at Marchand went on. The days marched on.

Sunday had rolled around again, much to the delight of many students. It was currently around nine a.m. or so, meaning that many students (with the exception of night owls, the particularly lazy, or those who had been busying themselves in the dark of the day) were already up and about.

The day was looking to be a regular, rather sleepy one.

Perhaps that would change sooner than not.

@VitoftheVoid@Avanhelsing@LorelleQuips@ScoundrelQueen@Akayaofthemoon@Gelatinous Cube@chocomog333@Prosaic@Sailorsadie@akirashadow@KillBox@Furiosa@Oooie@Dutchess Sarah@Trinais@Ejected

---

“All around us are people, of all classes, of all nationalities, of all ages. For three days these people, these strangers to one another, are brought together. They sleep and eat under one roof, they cannot get away from each other. At the end of three days they part, they go their several ways, never, perhaps, to see each other again.”

Dawn ran her tongue along the pad of her thumb, then slid the digit neatly beneath the page, flipping it to the next. Murder on the Orient Express. She had first read the novel when she maybe nine or so, give or take a few months. She had been held by a staunch fascination of the world of detectives around that time, devouring whatever scrap of text or bit of medium she could get her hands on. Her passion for the genre had been so strong that she had dressed herself up in a fake little stovepipe and a hunter’s cap that Halloween, much to the amusement of her family. Even after the holiday had passed, the hunter’s cap had remained, up until the point that it could no longer be worn and was in near shambles.

One of her favorite novels from the time had been this one, and she had found herself reading through it again after stumbling upon it in the library. It lost some of the excitement and luster it first held for her with the knowledge of the culprit of the crime, but it was still enjoyable regardless.

Flip. Flip.

It was a quiet day so far in the common room. Dawn wasn’t really complaining, of course. She enjoyed the quiet. There was a faint jazz piece that she couldn’t name off the top of her head in her ear, courtesy of her earbuds, but that was about it. That, and the sound of her own breathing, of the book, of the drone of the television in the background.

Flip. Flip.

It was after she reached the next chapter that Dawn stopped. Carefully slipping a bookmark shaped to look like a leaf between the pages, she closed the book and put it away into her purse. Her magic worked quickly as she tore her eyes away, whisking it safely off into her backpack for the time being.

She was feeling a bit hungry, though. While the common room had a few vending machines, filled with chips and granola galore, none of them held anything that would make for a proper breakfast in Dawn’s eyes. Stomach growing slightly, she stood, plucking the earbud from her head, and moved to slip out of the room and head to the dining hall.

The Marchand School of Sorcery

“You’re very welcome, Mr. Lucshen.” The smile on Madison’s face was as warm as ever, as if the little lapse of of his awareness hadn’t happened, as if thoughts of the war, freshly unburied, hadn’t begun to flit in and out in the back of his mind. He eyed the envelope curiously as Jake handed it over, tearing it open and looking over the the paper that had been neatly folded within. “Well, I certainly appreciate that your family informed us. Especially with Family Day so soon on the schedule!” With deft hands, Madison folded up the paper once more, sliding it into the pocket of his blouse for safekeeping. In the corner of his eye, he could see Oren stepping out of the darkness to join Maeve. Some of the tension that had wormed its way down his spine released its hold.

Good.

Madison beamed at the young man before him. “I look forward to having you, Mr. Luschen. I hope you enjoy the curriculum that I’ve put together- for both my classes. I wish you the best in getting settled in your new room.”

And then came the voice of another student, admonishing Mr. Luschen for what he was doing.

He turned a little to see who it was, only to stiffen a little. If Jake- or anyone, really- had been paying attention, they might have noticed the professor freeze, the guilt that shone fresh in his eyes, his lips thinning into a line. Brushing out his skirt, Madison uttered a quiet “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” before hurrying to join Professor Kovalenko at Byrne’s side.

“Is everything alright?” His voice was kept soft, but there was still a clear note of concern within it.

@akirashadow@VitoftheVoid@ScoundrelQueen

---

“Seems like it.” Quite literally hopping out of his chair, Percival snatched the last of his food and shovelled it all into his mouth, like a squirrel making last minute additions to a hoard that was desperately unprepared for the long winter to come. It didn’t really all fit, so he sort of had to awkwardly press his hand against his mouth to hold everything as he chewed, choking a little as he rushed through the remainder of his meal. After an agonizing few seconds, he managed to swallow the whole mess down, then smacked himself on the chest to clear his windpipe up some.

“If there’s a bunk-bed or anything, I call dibs on the top. Just saying. The top bunk is the best one, and I’m willing to lay my life on the line if it means securing it. I mean, not really, but, y’know. You get my drift.” Percival bent down, threw his bags over his shoulder, and then went on his merry way. He’d have to get one of those slip-things for weapons sooner than later, seeing how he was currently keeping some good ol’ sharpened steel tucked away in his suitcase, but getting settled in his room was higher up on his agenda than anything else for the moment.

He had to admit, though, as far as roommate goes, he got off pretty lucky. Isaiah didn’t seem like the sort of dick that would get on his case if everything wasn’t absolutely immaculate and museum-worthy, or the sort of guy that would just let a sea of pizza boxes drown them both. He was kinda quiet, sure, but it wasn’t like there was anything overly wrong with that or anything. The quiet ones tended to have a lot more patience for his bullshit than most others.

Key freshly in hand, Percival bounded down the hall of the boy’s dorm, counting off the numbers under his breath until he reached 203. He sort of fumbled with the lock for a moment, struggling to get it open one-handed, but eventually triumphed over a short battle and pushed the door open.

The inside of the dorm was...sort of nice, actually, if not really boring. There were two twin beds at the back, each pushed apart to their own separate sides of the room, with a window leading out to the woods positioned between them. Two nightstands, placed right beside the beds. Two wardrobes at the foot of the beds. A pale grey carpet that smelled fresh out of the store, some plain wood desks, two plain wood chairs, a plain wood floor, and plain white walls...

Sure, it was practical.

But it was also boring as all hell.

That was going to change very, very soon.

“Dibs on the left side!” Without waiting for any affirmation that Isaiah had heard him, Percival swung his bags onto the left-most bed. He followed shortly after, leaping onto what surface wasn’t now covered up with a loud war cry. There wasn’t much space, however, which lead to him knocking his head against the wall and giving a quiet “ow, shit”under his breath.

A great way to start off the year, honestly. Perfect way to set the tone.

@Prosaic

Persona in Wonderland: A Persona RP.

It was less patience, and more the lack of real impatience, that kept Gale from doing little more than idly regard the other boy as he yanked at his hair, tweaked at his ears. It was hard for him to be particularly bothered when no pain stemmed from the action, although he couldn’t help but note how terribly rude “Snow” seemed to be. Of course, that didn’t stop him from smiling benignly, and in a voice as sugary as the lollipop corked in his mouth, replying.

“I’m Gale Eden. It’s a pleasure, Snow.”

His interest was stolen from the boy by the suddenly feminine chirps of their benefactor, and for a moment, his eyes rose in genuine surprise. The moment faded as he began to ramble on and on about the situation Gale and the other Dreamers had found themselves in, and while he kept an ear open just in case, he wasn’t curious enough to start rattling off questions like some of the others. The rules of this reality hardly aligned with the logic of their own. The things that populated this world were most certainly not human, and there was a war raging that had brought both them, as well as the comatose children, into the thick of things.

Curious and curiouser. But Gale found it preferable to listen and observe instead of trying to vye for the Rabbit’s attention in things. Already, a few others had taken the lead in the little interrogation, and the Rabbit seemed far more invested in them than anyone else for the time being.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a scream of warning. Gale managed to turn just in time to see Snow suddenly enveloped in a mass of tightly coiled shadow. Taking a cue from the others, he took a few deliberate steps back away from the whole mess, although his eyes were still locked onto the whole process until the very end.

“How ghastly.”

His voice was thick with sympathy, although it didn’t touch his eyes in the slightest.

Two down already.

It likely wouldn’t be long for the next to fall.

Gale swung his arms a little, glancing over to see that the Rabbit had done a very abrupt shift in the time he hadn’t been watching him. No longer was he the dignified gentleman of earlier, but instead had become a high-strung mess of a girl. His brows rose again, and he listened with far more interest as she explained what had happened to Snow, what had happened to herself. There was a bit of rambling around it, but from what Gale gathered, it had been the emotion of the situation that had done him in.

Poor boy.

The apparent leader of the rebellion arrived, although Gale’s attention once again shifted as they were handed their gear. The “Chronovoker”, and a marble. He pocketed the former, and eyed the latter with interest. “Whatever weapon he felt he could handle best”...

It crumbled between his fingers as easily as a robin’s egg. Nothing took its place, however- instead, Gale’s hands suddenly became...noticeably heavier. Blinking, he looked down to see his hands coated in sleek, polished metal. Gauntlets. They were silver in color, adorned with careful swoops and little swirls here and there. The fingers of them both led into sharp, vicious tips. Like claws. Like knives. Fascinated, Gale rolled down one of his sleeves, and brought one of the fingers gently, ever so gently, against his bare skin.

He didn’t even have to press for the spot he picked to bead. A dewdrop of blood formed beneath his claw, and then leisurely began to roll down to his elbow after growing fat with enough mass.

Gale regarded this for a moment, then rolled his sleeve back up again.

They were perfect.

Flicking his hand clean, he padded forward, and leaped into the hungry maw of the rabbit hole.

The Marchand School of Sorcery

Hey, all! Just wanted to give y'all the heads up that I might be out of commission for a few weeks. I have a midterm on Thursday and a bunch of finals next week, which will keep me a bit preoccupied if I'm responsible and all that.
Wanted to put the message on here as well as the Discord, so nobody thinks that I just up and vanished or anything, haha.

The Marchand School of Sorcery

“Mr. Lucshen!” Madison’s voice betrayed nothing but delight as he took the offered hand in his own, shaking it gently. As if this were a party instead of an academy, and Jake had been a guest whose arrival the professor had been waiting for with bated breath. “It’s wonderful to meet you. I believe that you’re one of the students in my Pyromancy class, yes? I look forward to working with you in the future.” It was the same thing that he would have said to any other of his students, had they approached- and it wasn’t a lie, either. It was genuine enthusiasm that he had patched together his curriculum.

And with genuine surprise that Madison regarded the young man’s question. He had been expecting something like “what will class be like” or “where are the bathrooms”, but this was a bit out of left field (although he supposed he shouldn’t have been entirely surprised). Still, he had said that they would be around to answer any questions that the students might have found themselves with, and he didn’t plan to go back on his word. His fingers rested lightly upon his bottom lip, eyes travelling to the ceiling.

“Well.” Madison’s voice was quiet. “I can’t say that I approve of the fact that the Luschens were in support of the enemy, but...well, that really just about summarizes things.” For a moment, his hand dropped, brushing along the ink darkening his wrist. There was nothing more that could be said. There was nothing more that he wished to say. It was possible that Mr. Lucshen was unaware of his involvement in the war, but…

All the same, it was something that was better touched upon with the dryness of class than with personal opinion.

The professor’s eyes seemed to travel somewhere distant for a moment- somewhere dry and bleak, with skies that were never-ending- and then he was blinking himself back to reality, smiling at his pupil and clapping his hands together. “However! That will not affect how you are treated here in the slightest. I can assure you will be treated just the same as any other student here.” It was not the children present who had lived through the war, after all.

Madison paused. His eyes had fallen upon Maeve, concern furrowing his brows. He attempted to hide it as best as possible as he addressed Jake again, although there were still traces of it regardless.

“Is there anything else that you need, Mr. Lucshen?”

@akirashadow