Roman

Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

Suddenly Luce turned away from the approaching teen, hand over her mouth before she stumbled away from the approaching teen. Tad knew exactly what was going to happen next before the retching sound echoed across the campsite. Grabbing a cold bottle of water from the nearby cooler and a wet cloth, Tad and Jessica rushed over to Luce.

"Hey, hey, it's alright." Jessica started kneeling down beside the Blackjack member, "Hi, I'm Jessica Friend, like Tad I'm a student rep, just for a different team. Can I help you to your feet?" She asked, extending a hand to Luce while Tad looked around for Banjo.

@Lord Wraith

_{Location: Southern Plateau - Dundas Islands}

The Homecoming Trials #1.96: Corporate Retreat

---

_{Interaction(s): @Hound55, @Mao Mao}

Previously: Never Panic On An Empty Stomach

Banjo was saying...something, standing over Luce's hunched form as she retched into the grass, nothing but bile and air coming out from the depths of her stomach. A small, half-digested white pill floated on the surface of the sticky, acrid ooze, innocent and accusatory all at once, but then the retching was over and someone else - someone decidedly not Banjo - approached and introduced themselves and offered some actual assistance, rather than dry, vaguely-witty self-deprecation. Luce managed to lean back, resting on her haunches as she shivered with the after-shocks of vomiting; Jessica offered her a new water bottle and a cloth, both of which Luce took quickly and gratefully, and soon enough she was cleaned up, mouth rinsed out. With Jessica's help, she stood, shaky but stable, smiling with embarrassment at Jessica and avoiding Banjo's eyes as she walked around him and back toward the tents.

She was feeling better - the anxiety and panic had reached a crescendo, and now she felt purged almost, nausea flushed out and leaving only those damn hunger pangs behind. She could smell the grilled meats that Tad had been overseeing, and suddenly felt ravenous, any shame or nervousness overpowered by an overwhelming eat something please that she was all-too-happy to oblige. Jess, however, had momentarily disappeared, returning with a spare set of folded uniform. She smiled sympathetically as Luce looked down at herself. Yellow-brownish splatter marred her track pants, with smaller flecks having splashed onto her shoes and the hem of her top. Luce felt her face go red again, embarrassed once more. Wordlessly, she nodded in thanks at Jess as she took the spare clothes, retreating to the tent she and Kenna had set up to change - and find something to bag up the stained uniform. She'd have to find a good moment to toss it over the cliff later. Maybe herself at the same time?

By the time she emerged the team had settled and gathered in a loose circle, all sating their hunger. Luce picked up a plate and seized whatever kebabs remained - it didn't matter to her what was on them, as long as it was edible - and then quietly edged into the group, sitting in silence as she chewed beef and chicken and mushroom and felt the hole in her belly shrink and settle. She felt a lot better, and even the anxiety had been driven away by the food. She sipped her water and surreptitiously swallowed another pill. Didn't hurt to be safe.

Suddenly, Calliope spoke up, and initiated the most haphazard version of group therapy Luce could have conceived; one-by-one, they went around, spilling both background tragedies and their powers in some kind of recreation of the world's worst icebreaker exercise. Still, it was an awful lot more civilized than the team's first attempt at getting to know each other; previously-drawn battle-lines were crossed, truces were struck, and there was an opportunity for everyone to actually learn about each other, rather than making snap judgments based on micro-moments of interaction. Luce was as guilty of it as any other member of the team; she needed to extend the metaphorical olive branch to each of her peers, and hope that they'd offer her the same courtesy.

There were two key exceptions to what was otherwise a shared trauma-dump; Trevor, who seemed honestly too cheery to have had such an experience in his past, and the ever-aloof Kenna, who's contribution consisted of bragging and the obligatory ability explanation. The scream was new information at least, though Luce couldn't help but wonder why she'd held that back previously. The abilities were wild and varied; some seemed straightforward, like Banjo and Katja, while others - Trace and Trevor particularly - were just plain bizarre. A world opened up in front of Luce's eyes, one filled with Hyper-humans in possession of abilities both odd and dangerous, and for the first time since learning she belonged to that world she felt almost normal. She had no active control over her powers, they had no flashy effects, they changed nothing about her body beyond hand-wave-able scars after the fact; she was almost lucky. Trace was marked for life, irrevocably and unwillingly, and while Luce found them strangely beautiful, it was all-too-easy to envision a world where such an appearance was a death-sentence instead. Haleigh, meanwhile, was cursed with power dangerous enough to necessitate the abandonment of them entirely. She felt a pang of shame for being so self-absorbed. Survivor's guilt was the worst her own abilities had to impart upon her; all she needed was to take therapy seriously.

Suddenly, it was her turn, and ten pairs of eyes settled on her face, absent-mindedly chewing a chunk of beef as she mulled over the rapid-fire epiphanies about the revealed scope of it all. She swallowed, taking a deep breath to steady her voice.

"Hi everyone. Sorry about earlier. I'm Luce. It's really nice to meet you all. I'm from Canada - close by, relatively. Houston BC. Never knew my dad, but my mom worked really hard. Used to camp. I don't anymore. Lost my brothers in an accident. Don't like the trees anymore, or open spaces. But it's how I found out about my powers." She put her plate down, lifting her fresh top up just slightly enough to show the first scar on her torso.
"I don't know the rating, or category, or the official stuff. Whatever it is - I don't feel pain when I'm hurt. Hurt bad, I mean. It doesn't slow me down, doesn't stop me, I just keep going. It's like my body just...adapts. Whatever stops working, something else picks up the slack. And then when I'm out, when I'm safe...I heal up real good after. I'm um, I'm not sure I can actually be killed."

She took another deep breath, letting her top down and pulling from her water bottle. That was the most talking she'd done in a long time. "My mom sent me here for a fresh start. Small town stuff, you know. It's really nice to meet you all. Sorry for vomiting, Banjo. It wasn't you. I just panicked. I um...I panic a lot. I'm sorry."

Luce looked around the circle, smiling as warmly as she could muster and letting the nerves wash over her and depart again, allowing anxiety to come and go like commanding the tides. She noticed one missing among their number, and turned her head toward Iñigo, who was sat separately a little off from the circle, propped up against the trees. She shivered slightly to look at it, but raised her hand to wave.
"Iñigo, right?" She called out, putting on her best friendly voice. "Would you like to join us?"

Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

I might well try that if things make me go argh enough. But making Wraith go argh instead of me seems like an even better option... >.>

@Nemaisare

Again, I advocate whining enough until he simply does it for you (and apparently so does Wraith, the madman).

Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

Behind the forced smile, Makenna’s eye twitched. God the girl really was a hopeless. “No need to be so modest,” She encouraged, pulling out her phone and taking a step back to leave the group as quickly as she’d joined it “There was all that unstoppable stuff too, right? Plus you’re from the area and been camping before, you’ve got to have all kind of tips for us.”

From inside its pocket, her phone was already lighting up from tapping. “We’re all here to bond after all- I just need to check one thing, then I’ll catch you all for dinner yeah?” With a wave, she turned and left the group to give her undivided attention to her phone.

@Tackytaff

Rory gave a polite nod to Trevor, holding up a single finger to indicate he needed a moment.

@webboysurf

"Hi Luce! Not dying is pretty cool. Lots of people aren't too jazzed about the whole dying thing. I know I'd prefer not to."

The topic of Hyperhuman abilities gave him pause, however, as he tried thinking of a way to explain his ability without making himself out to be the world's most off-putting Mr. Potato Head. Thankfully, he was given a bit of respite, but not so thankfully because of the escalating argument between several of his teammates. As much as he didn't want to interrupt making a new friend, this seemed more than a little serious.

"Really great to meet you, Luce. I promise I'll be right back. I feel like I gotta go y'know—" he made a broad gestured at the growing crowd of arguing students "—help stop that."

@Jarl Coolgruuf

_{Location: Southern Plateau - Dundas Island}

The Homecoming Trials #1.64: Never Panic On An Empty Stomach

---

_{Interaction(s): N/A}

Previously: If You Show Me Yours

And just like that, Luce had been dragged toward social interaction she was ill-prepared for, before being utterly abandoned by both those who she had been thrust toward, and those that had thrusted her forwards in the first place. She couldn't get a grip on Mackenna; she seemed at one moment spritely and encouraging, and the next aloof and disconnected from proceedings. Luce wasn't sure if her initial friendliness was sincere, or if it was merely surface-level platitudes intending for playing the part of an attentive student. It seemed the real Mackenna was the one buried beneath her phone screen. Perhaps Luce had been chosen because she required the least amount of engagement, and Mackenna could retreat to her texts without protest.

Luce was anxious. She could tell she was anxious, because she was getting nasty. Nasty towards others, nasty towards herself. She was hungry, too, which compounded the problem; hanger mixed with unease and from it bloomed nausea and spite in her stomach.

Rory had disappeared without a word, merely one finger held aloft, like Luce could be simply paused until it became more convenient for him to address her; at least Trevor delivered the courtesy of saying hello before politely excusing himself and scurrying off to the brewing fracas that was spilling over and threatening to involve every member of Blackjack. It seemed only herself and Cass were unaffiliated; all's the better, Luce thought. She'd barely had an opportunity to begin forming opinions about her erstwhile team members, but this social ugliness was a poor first impression.

She stood, alone, watching the argument ebb and flow from afar, awash with turbulent emotions. A peculiar mix bubbled away within her, simultaneously disheartened that the team's first opportunity for creating camaraderie had devolved into petty in-fighting, but also somehow jealous that she'd not been dragged in. Again, she had been left on the fringes, abandoned and unappealing. Flashes of quiet recesses spent with a sandwich and no company on a bench or in the cafeteria corner flew past her; suddenly she felt 10 inches tall and invisible, reduced again to the lonely child abandoned by her peers and elder brothers. Her eyes stung and she swallowed hard, self-loathing-fuelled nausea burning in her belly.

In the distance, the quarrel was nearly quelled - where was Jim, or Tad, or any responsible adult to put a definitive end to the skirmish? - but suddenly Trace reared their head, and with it came a pointless, acerbic assault, seemingly for no reason other than to re-ignite tensions. Banjo, true to form, launched back with equal vitriol, and Luce felt everything crashing down around the group; despite best intentions of those who had sought to ease the fight, it appeared goodwill had no place here. P.R.C.U. and its promises of fresh starts felt hollow and foolish. Luce felt sick, and then, in the midst of despair and panic, with only a xanax and half a bottle of water in her stomach, the last straw settled on the proverbial camel's back.

He made his way over to the nervous blonde girl. Daring to hope that Calliope might still follow.

@Hound55

Banjo rounded on Luce, storming towards her with heat still coming from atop his head and a face like thunder, humiliated by Trace's barrage and freshly riled. She had seen this scenario many times before; a shamed and emasculated adolescent seeking to deflect onto an easier target. She couldn't believe it was happening again - but at the same time, it felt inevitable, unavoidable. This was just how it went for Luce.

The panic reached a boiling point and her stomach turned; desperately, she fumbled herself away from the vicinity of the tent and towards the edge of the pitching area, clutching a hand over her mouth.
She made it twenty or so paces before collapsing to her knees in the most unkempt patch of grass in proximity - and then, in a most ungracious manner, spewing up her guts.

Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

---

_{Location: Southern Plateu - Dundas Island}

The Homecoming Trials #1.54: If You Show Me Yours

---

_{A Collaboration with @Tackytaff as Mackenna}

Previously: Z-bars

“Well that’s the first time anyone's asked me that way,” She grinned in reply, before throwing the package to the ground where if slowly began to unfurl and self-inflate. “Got a thing with voices,” She continued casually. Except the next time she spoke, it was Dr. Lehrer’s voice that left her mouth.

“Esoteric expulsion ability seems to have produced a malleability within the vocal cords. Paired with the student’s exceptional ear for key and tone, it creates a unique opportunity for mimicry of voices and sounds.” She decided it best to leave out the part about using HZE ions to create sonic blasts. That seemed more of a second-night together sort of thing.

Makenna began circling the tent as it took shape, kicking the corners slower to inflate. “That’s the long science bullshit version they gave me anyway. How about you?”

Luce fixed her eyes on Mackenna’s as she explained her abilities, trying to give the impression of polite attentiveness, hoping it didn’t come across too stare-y; when Mackenna demonstrated, Luce’s eyes widened as a pitch-perfect mimicry of the chummy-yet-mysterious Dr. Lehrer spouted from her lips. Luce repressed the urge to applaud; despite her own status, and the status of those surrounding her at this very moment, it was still so wondrous to see such quirks in action. A small part of Luce felt jealousy for the at-will nature of many of her peer’s powers.

“Neat!” She said, forcing a smile. She stepped back from the yurt as she fixed the last fastening, running her gaze over the firm dome and turning the idea of a couple nights sleeping within it over and over in her head. Again, her eyes flitted to the distant treeline. Were they closer than the last time she looked? Or was she just paranoid, looking for a reason to break down and be excused from the whole endeavour? Dr. Mercia’s words rang in her mind, offering warm reassurances that felt much more hollow now than they had done when spoken within her office, seated in a plush armchair, balancing coffee on the armrest, surrounded by sturdy brick-and-mortar walls. Luce put a hand in her pocket and wrapped her fist around the bottle of xanax.

She realised she’d been staring as her vision sharpened, bringing the features of Mackenna’s face back into focus, patiently waiting for an answer. How best to word it?
“I don’t die when I should.” Is what Luce settled on, and the reactive furrowing of Mackenna’s brow immediately caused regret to blossom in Luce’s chest. She chased her words, stumbling over them as she tried to elaborate and explain. “I-I mean, uh, w-when I get hurt. B-badly. I just keep- keep going? A-and then I get better after.” Luce cleared her throat, not really feeling like she’d helped.

Carefully, she pulled up her shirt, showing off golf-ball sized scarring on her stomach and below her breasts. “These are from…from when I found out…” Luce paused, feeling her brain rattle and eyes sting as she forced herself through traumatic memories. She squeezed her eyes shut, tracing the feel of the rough scar tissue beneath her fingertips as she pointed to each. “That’s my stomach…” she said, pointing to the lower one, “...and that’s my lung,” moving her hand upwards, “and there’s another through my heart.” She lowered her shirt, opening her eyes and feeling her face suddenly flush and burst red as she effectively trauma-dumped, embarrassing herself in the very first actual conversation with a peer she’d had since arriving on this island. “I uh…I lived, and h-healed right up after.”
Lucky you, said the slimy voice.

"Wow, that's..." Makenna shook her head, the plastered smile still maintained, though she stumbled for words and the tent finished unfurling behind her. "Really useful," She finally landed on saying, adjusting the shaking to nodding as she tried to look away from the myriad of scars on the girl's exposed body. Maybe Trace hadn’t been the looniest choice to make. "The perseverance bit at least, I hope we won’t be needing to defy death on our first week." She scanned the horizon, willing herself not to ask the obvious questions of just how Luce had gotten so many injures or discovered such a niche ability. The answers were likely related, and she wasn’t ready to single-handedly deal with this girl’s baggage the first hour of their trip.

She moved to unzip the tent door instead, showing the fully prepped interior bedroom that had somehow unfolded with the entire tent. Makenna couldn’t help but let out a delighted laugh as she fell backwards into the bed. “These are better than the bunks at the intake house-” The pillows and comforter had barely settled when she stood again to admire the curtains covering the transparent side of the wall. “Is this carpeted?” She continued, as though forgetting Luce entirely, until she was suddenly grabbing the younger girl's arm, encouraging her to come further in and examine the amenities afforded to them. “And here I thought we were in boot camp. Would have done so much more camping as a kid if it was like this, you know?”

Luce forced a polite chuckle. “Yeah, haha. Me too...” She trailed off as Mackenna turned her back to unzip the tent and step inside; there was a peel of squealing laughter, and then as Luce peered round the flap at the plush interior she suddenly felt Mackenna seize her arm and yank her further in. She snatched her arm back, uncomfortable with the contact, but couldn’t help being amazed by the decor - the yurt was more luxurious than some hotels. She ran a hand over the soft bunks, and took a moment to appreciate the curtains that would definitively block out any notion of forestry in the distance; perhaps the coming days wouldn’t be as difficult as she had feared.

Mackenna’s camping comment nipped at her, unintentionally riling Luce up, though she quickly chided herself; it wasn't Mackenna's duty to tiptoe around trauma she didn't know Luce had.
“This has little in common with camping as I’ve known it.” Luce remarked, deadpan and stone-faced.

Makenna couldn't help but roll her eyes as she looked out the window. "Glad to see the team bonding is off to a great start," She said dryly. Outside one of the blonde boys was already storming away from the small group gathered around Calliope, meanwhile Luce had resumed a mopey tone and recoiled at the slightest touch. It didn't bode well for the 'fun life-long-memory' experience old Jim had promised.

By the time she turned to face Luce, she was all friendly enthusiasm and smiles again. "Just so long as that storm doesn't ruin it all for us. The boys are still struggling out there; should we give them a hand?" Without waiting for agreement, Makenna exited the still-open tent door and began calling to the others.

"Hey Trevor! Need a hand?" She all but jogged to reach the pair, smiling wildly at them while frantically gesturing for Luce to follow. Only once she did Makenna begin speaking again. "Makenna, Luce, Trevor, Rory." She quickly listed the names and pointed to the person that went with each. "That's names done, it's always powers next, right? You should tell them about your abilities, Luce, what you told me was super interesting." Her sincerity was indeterminable beneath the nauseating cheerfulness.

Luce froze as Mackenna put her on the spot, already overwhelmed having met more people in the last half hour than she had in the last six months. She cleared her throat, voice shaking, and gave an awkward half-wave as she spoke.
“H-Hi, everyone. Luce. Y-yeah, uh, as Mackenna said. I um, I can’t die. I think. I haven’t uh, I haven’t tested it that thoroughly.”
She coughed.
“H-how about you guys?”

Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

<Snipped quote by Roman>
Did you get him to do your sheet code for you through psychological manipulation, Roman? That's evil. And pretty funny.

@TGM

Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

I am going to kill Nate with how this sheet has plagued me all morning. I finally got it to agree with me. Finally.

@TGM

Just do what I do; moan about it on discord, and await the inevitable PM with a fully-complete code set up to your specific character needs with only a handful of big bright "JUST WRITE YOUR SHIT HERE YOU IDIOT" boxes left to finish.

Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

"How has your gardening been going this week?"

Luce looked up from her lap, her hands continuing to pick at the frayed ends of stitching on the sleeves of her jumper. It had been a hand-me-down from her brothers, and remained to this day more than a couple sizes too big for her, but she couldn't bear to pass it on. She told herself it was a living memorial, but every time she withdrew it from her closet - almost unconsciously at times - a sharper, nastier voice in the back of her head told her it was penance. To be done with it was disrespectful to her brothers. And then, in the dark as she pulled the sweater over her head, a second, far more ruinous voice would say, to be alive is disrespectful to her brothers, and she would have to reply, well, there's not much I can do about that anymore.

"Luce?"
She'd been staring at Dr. Mercia without answering the question, lost in her thoughts.
"Okay. Tomatoes are ripening." Luce answered.
"Something on your mind, Luce?"
"No." She lied, still picking at her sleeves. Gila wanted to press the issue, but time was short, and there was more immediate concern to be addressed.

"Luce, there was something specific I wanted to address this session."
Luce didn't respond, but she did stop fiddling and lay her hands flat-palmed on her lap, all attention focused. These kinds of sentences from Dr. Mercia often didn't end well for Luce, and she had learned to brace for impact.
"P.R.C.U., as you know, maintains many long-held traditions, for students and faculty alike. The most anticipated of which begins with the opening of each new academic year: the Homecoming Trials."
Luce nearly scoffed. It sounded like the Hunger Games. Gila read the incredulity from her face easily, and smiled awkwardly with sympathy.
"In any case, I've anticipated the Trials being a potentially...fraught event for you; in that anticipation, I wanted to address what you can expect, so that we can equip you effectively." Dr. Mercia could see the beads of anxiety forming on Luce's forehead, accompanied by a slowly-furrowing brow and a tight, bitten-lipped expression. She reached out and put a gentle hand upon Luce's own. "I want you know you've made incredible strides the last few weeks, Luce - you're more than capable of doing very well."

Luce looked at Dr. Mercia's hand on her own, then drew her gaze up to make eye contact. Resolve spread across her face, replacing the fear that had settled there as an uncomfortable default.
"And if it does overwhelm you - there's something of a booster I can arrange for you."

---

_{Location: Southern Plateu - Dundas Island}

The Homecoming Trials #1.35: Z-bars

---

_{Interaction(s): Mackenna (@Tackytaff)}

Previously: Grounding Techniques

Luce opened the bottle of the 'booster' and gently tapped the rim against her palm until a thin, white tablet tumbled out, at which point she carefully replaced the lid on the bottle and pocketed it, before swallowing the pill with a gulp of water from the bottle in her other hand. Alprazolam, AKA Xanax, prescribed as a one-off acute anti-anxiety medication; take one tablet when experiencing a high-stress situation; feel relief in 30-60 minutes.

30-60 minutes felt like a long time right now from where Luce stood, one of the first of Team Blackjack to arrive outside the intake house to await collection for the Southern Plateau. The others trickled in slowly, and she gave each a sheepish, polite nod in greeting, but as Cass filtered in line beside her any threat of having to make small talk was eliminated by the roaring engine of an approaching Minotaur, making Luce jump and her heart-rate spike; when the vehicle pulled up, emblazoned with Blackjack's team logo, and Jim stepped out - their faculty rep - it all suddenly felt very real to Luce. This was it - the Trials as Dr. Mercia had described them, as Dr. Lehrer had announced to wild applause. And it all began here and now, with a group of strangers and a bottle of xanny's.

Jim made his speech, introducing Tad at the same time, and Luce felt reassured by the presence of a direct ex-student, a living example of how the academy's programme worked; unfortunately, any solace Tad could have been able to offer was cut off two-fold; once by the appearance of Team 18's rep, Ryan Clarke, who quickly assisted the conversation in devolving into petty inter-team bravado, and then again by Blackjack's own walking disruption, Banjo, arriving late but nonetheless demanding to be up-to-speed as he whispered behind her and Cass' backs.

_{"Who's that guy?"} Banjo hissed, to which he received only flat silence. Banjo tried again: _{"Who's that guy?"}; and this time Luce could see in the corner of her eyes the slightest nostril flare and flexing of fingers in Cass.
_{"Shut. Up."} Cass whispered back, and Luce felt pin-prick goosebumps across her shoulder. It was clear already that Banjo and Cass didn't find themselves compatible; she was uncomfortable with the tension and the risk of confrontation.
_{"Who's that guy?"} Banjo asked again, and this time Luce clenched her own fists as she noticed one of Cass' hands take on the slightest glow, and his jaw tense up and set where he was gritting his teeth.
_{"Should have been here on time."} Cass replied, practically spitting. Cass saw Banjo move to ask again, and the tension overtook her.
"Tad." She answered, quickly, and much to her relief Banjo backed down. If this was a preview of the weekend to come, Luce couldn't say she much fancied Blackjack's chances at large of surviving the next couple days, much less her own.

Regardless, intramural sniping had finally been set aside and they began to file into the Minotaurs to be taken across the island. Luce climbed into one of the vehicles, paying little attention to who she had inadvertently chosen to ride with; in truth, she barely looked up from the floor of the truck's cabin, trying to avoid looking out the windows as the university campus and its strong, safe buildings faded into the distance to be replaced by open field and the looming, ever-present treeline of the outlying forest. The xanax began to kick-in, and Luce leaned back against the seat, eyes closed and taking deep, measured breaths. From where she was sitting, 'Trials' felt like an accurate descriptor.

--- --- ---

The ride was mercifully short, Jim's voice crackling through the radio a welcome distraction to the passing scenery as he explained further about the Trials and the surrounding landscape. The vehicle came to a halt, and they were ferried out of the cabin onto the Plateau itself, shuffling toward an empty camping lot. Luce noticed that the forest was mercifully distant, and around them various clusters of domed yurts dotted the immediate area, while further off bleachers were being erected and banners unfurled for the coming event. It felt remarkably more modern than Luce had anticipated in her anxiety, and while Jim's mention of 'camping' came as a distasteful sliver of ice through her chest, the xanax soothed the buzzing fear that otherwise hummed inside her head, and the yurts - both those already setup and the ready-to-go kits that Jim gestured towards - looked sturdy and amenable, a far cry from a length of tarp draped over a handful of poles, protecting them from the elements no more so than a raincoat and vague hoping did. Even the hedge-maze felt surmountable, despite the prospect of begin enclosed by pure vegetation: of course, the dragon of terror beats its wings and sounded its roar within her, but a calmer, more rational beast allowed reason to soothe the fear. Hedges didn't fall over - or very rarely, at least - and especially not hedges grown and controlled by well-practiced hyper-humans.

All in all, Luce gripped the xanax bottle in her pocket tightly in one hand, but felt unusually in-control of herself, even allowing a wafer of pride to drip through warmly as she thought of her circumstances and the current lack of her reaction to them. So much so that when Jim announced Tad would be camp cook for the evening, she suddenly found herself famished, her hands shaking slightly from hunger as her belly yawned at the mention of food. She had neglected to eat this morning, wrapped up in her gardening, and the anxiety post-opening ceremony had filled her with a nausea that closed her stomach off to the thought of eating. Now calmer and allowed a moment of stillness, Luce realized she was hungry.

Her ruminations were interrupted by Mackenna, who had approached her quite unexpectedly; the woman had held a sense of haughty detachment around her, like the academy was simply something she was waiting to finish before returning to something else, like P.R.C.U. was the equivalent of a phone-call from a faint acquaintance in the middle of a particularly enjoyable TV show. It was not something Luce had responded well to, given her own aspirations for the transformative potential of the university; but then Luce didn't suppose she appeared all that sociable either. Perhaps this was a chance for the both of them to discard their respective shells. Luce cleared her throat, realizing she'd spoken less words today than she could count on two hands; she hoped it wasn't obvious that she was essentially warming up her vocal cords for unplanned usage.

”Hey Luce, mind pitching together?” Mackenna asked. “Think I might have spotted the one spot slightly flatter than the others.”
Luce smiled - an unpracticed expression - and nodded emphatically, trying to appear enthusiastic, but not too enthusiastic.
"Sure! Mackenna, right?" she replied, extending a hand to shake while at the same time bending over to pick up a tent bag from the ground, resulting in an unwieldy, three-pronged pose, one arm out, one arm down, and one leg backwards trying desperately to counter-balance. Somehow she managed it without toppling ass-over-tit, and she followed Mackenna to the flat spot quietly, trying to remember how to make small-talk. They had to have something in common, right?

Ah. Of course.

"So, uh...Mackenna," Luce started, kneeling as she unzipped the tent and began pulling it open, letting the yurt unfurl from the bag. "What uh...what do you...you know..." she fumbled for words, not quite sure how to put it, trying not to be impolite but also naturally, undeniably, curious.
"What do you do?"

Roman's Scrapbin

Guy has a really mundane boring corporate grind existence
Getting progressively more and more sick of it, spiralling
Some manner of transformation or physical metamorphosis begins to occur to him.

Everyday, Jacob goes to work
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh it’s just one of those days…”
And everyday he wonders what is happening to him.

Roman's Scrapbin

haunted house from the perspective of the house

ex-owner fell fell in love with the house and ended up murder-suiciding spouse to be with house
became ghost haunting the house
uses a pipe
not happy new people have moved into house

Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - [CLOSED]

"So, Lucille. Why do you think I called you in today?"

Luce paused. Dr. Lehrer exuded an aura of calm and welcome, but there was an edge of absolute control that creeped up behind you if you paid enough attention. Luce was carefully attuned to the fine-print of people around her; she spent a lot of time slipping through it, tip-toeing cautiously around the peripheries of attention. Only step into notice when absolutely necessary. Otherwise, skirt beneath it.

No such luck stuck in a stuffy, sparsely-decorated office under the ever-watchful eye of P.R.C.U. Chancellor Jonas Lehrer, eyes twinkling as they stared you down like a hawk watching a particularly bold-feeling field mouse. The hairs on the back of Luce's neck stood up, and she suppressed a shiver.

"To learn about me." She finally answered, and was surprised when Jonas chortled rather suddenly, his guffaw devolving into a cough as he reined himself in and re-gathered his composure.
"Ah, Ms. Calder," he replied, clearing his throat, "you make it sound so...academic. Like this is all in the name of research."

Luce raised a single eyebrow, genuinely confused.
"With respect, Dr. Lehrer - is it not?"
Jonas shrugged in a gesture of defeat, leaning back in his chair, all the while his gaze never breaking.
"What do you understand this institution to be, Lucille?"
Luce's mouth twitched near-imperceptibly. He kept using Lucille. It was what her mother had taken to calling her after the...after. No one called her 'Luce' anymore. She rolled her shoulders slightly, feeling that edge of control creeping down her back again.
"A school." She answered, curt and withdrawn. Jonas nodded, but said nothing, just let the silence hang in the air. "A boot camp." She said, Jonas only continuing to nod slowly, solemnly. She felt mocked, and could feel heat in her cheeks. "A lab."

Jonas stood, still taking those slow, ponderous nods, his eyes off Luce now but his attention never wavering. He walked toward the office door, pausing ever-so-subtly by the shelf-ful of folders as he did so, almost in an act of contrition toward Luce's accusatory outburst.
"A lot of students feel trepidations in their first few weeks, Lucil-"
"It's Luce." Luce demanded, suddenly standing and all bristles, anxiety and uncertainty discarded in the wake of self-assertion.

Jonas smiled the warmest smile he'd worn since she'd stepped in, and Luce immediately felt like she'd played right into his hand. The wind was sucked out of her at the realisation, and she relaxed her posture, almost amused by how meticulously he had lead her through the tension that had now been thoroughly deflated.
"It's been a pleasure to meet you, Luce. I'm looking forward to getting to know you better during your education with us." He opened the office door, gesturing with his arm in a gentle invitation to leave. "Do let the next pupil know I'll be ready for them shortly."

---

_{Location: Community Farm - P.R.C.U. Campus}

The Homecoming Trials #1.22: Grounding Techniques

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_{Interaction(s): None}

Previously: In Vivo

All she needed first was a deep breath.

Perhaps a deeper one that what she'd taken.

The assembly had been fine - standard fare - nothing Luce hadn't expected from the opening of the semester. The usual platitudes, the national anthem (which she sung easily, being reminded of her elementary school days, though she heard several murmured, fumbled, or incorrect lyrics amongst the crowd), an opening address by the figureheads of the university's faculty. Cass, whom she'd recognised by virtue of shared lingering around the campus ahead of the start of term, had sat next to her, sporting his own Blackjack armband. He nodded politely, which she returned. She was glad he was as content to sit silently as she was - others (that she noticed, much to her chagrin, shared the Blackjack armband) weren't quite so self-aware.

It had all spiraled away from her with the announcement of the Homecoming Trials, and the revelation of a weekend retreat upon which she had been forcibly conscripted. The mere mention of the Southern Plateau injected ice into her veins, and she felt rooted to the spot while the rest of the student body slowly filtered out of the stadium stands; her knuckles went white where she gripped the sides of her seat, her brain tumbling over itself as it processed the development. On the verge of a panic attack, Luce heard Dr. Mercia's words, echoing in the back of her head. Ground yourself. Deep breaths. Five things you can see. In through the nose. Five things you can hear. Out through the mouth. Five things you can feel.

The attack subsided, and Luce opened her eyes taking a few more shaky breaths as the crowd continued to move around her. Carefully, she stood up, her feet and legs feeling heavy as she willed them to take one step after another, dragging herself finally out of the stadium amongst the final dregs of pupils filtering out. From the gates of the arena, the walk back to her dorm room felt impossibly long, but with each new step the anxiety lessened, and as she passed by the farm block on her way and saw the greenhouse in the distance, she felt calm and in control. The dragon loomed in the back of her mind, agoraphobia threatening to spill over, but she knew she could stem the flow, dam it so as to only let trickles through rather than flood completely. By the time she'd made it to the dorm room it was with a newly-steeled outset. P.R.C.U. was a new beginning; she could not let that fresh start be tainted by the past she so desperately sought to leave behind.

Otherwise this was all for nothing.