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    1. ScoundrelQueen 8 yrs ago

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I'm not a girl. I'm a unicorn.

To clarity: Only children and hopeless dreamers believe in me, and I'm probably fake.

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As the fight was broken up and the participants returned to their business, Apple crawled down from his defensive perch and back onto the common room floor. He licked a spare bit of pineapple from his lips before flopping his mouth back up on the table.

Just in case.

“I think a magical food fight would be exciting,” Mitch replied, interest piqued at Nathan's interest and Tatia's promise. Despite the flatness in her tone, she had some kind of sparkly, exciting-ness that made her seem like someone good to keep around. The perfect, "D'you think we could rob the pantry" sort of friend who propelled the action in good stories and made things a fantastically fun mess.

As opposed to a not-fun-mess. Like when people went to jail.

And Nolan, for his part, seemed just like the sort of person who could go along for not-jail-but-still-fun-mess sorts of things. Though, really.... There were not many ways to decide that. When the time came, she could find out. More importantly, he seemed far less gothy than any necromancer she had dreamed up. That is to say, Mitch did not think any self-respecting necrophile could get on board with Runes being cooler than raising the dead.

Which, honestly, made him all the less scary.

“And, you know, a food fight here is probably easy to clean up with water magic. Which is more interesting than Runes, by far. Which aren't, you know... Weel. A bit jack-of-all-trades. But I have to write it,” she said, tracing the shape of a rune circle on the table, but leaving no mark behind. “And, you know. Not write it wrong. And hope it isn't, you know...” She picked up a strawberry and popped it into her mouth. “Gotta hope it isn't going to kill me or something. So not as cool as wind and zombies and the like, honestly. OH! And someone has to trigger the rune. So a bit lame, really.”

At the sound of a warm, oddly high male voice from the front of the room, Mitch piped down and scooter her chair to face the front of the room.

Oddly enough, people seemed offended when you had your back to them. Even if your front was not much better at seeing.

@LorelleQuips@Prosaic
Nolan seemed nice, for someone who was from an allegedly unimportant but "don't believe what they say" sort of family. Overall,Mitch found it to be a little mafia, but still a little Weasley. After a brief thought, the whole prospect was not unlike a tiger with a big bow around his neck playing with a ball.

Dangerous, yet charming.

And then there was Tatia F-A-L-E not F-A-I-L. Mitch almost asked if her middle name was, per chance, "Epic," but Apple's screams and the overall commotion saved her from saying something that was (upon second thought,) really, really stupid and not at all funny. She did not miss the vague disinterest in the girl's voice, and wondered if she was always so vaguely uninteresting.

Mitch scrunched her nose at the description. “That sounds like a waste,” she said, reaching up to stroke Apple's floof-covered antennae much like one might stroke a cat's ears. She had seldom been to a proper school, and certainly never a magical proper school. The whole affair was far more TV than she had ever expected.

“.... Is it at least a magical food fight?”

@prosaic@lorellequips




Larke froze.

Not so much because he was intimidated by a professor, but because he realized very quickly that Norrevinter was not the only one watching him. And, given this situation, his options were to have his ass handed to him by a Schippers on the first day, or to take life's lemons and do with them what he could. Regardless, his choices would influence how his classmates' view of him for the remainder of the year. For Council students, this story started long, long before Larke had any control over matters.

But for those who had just walked into the fray?

This was a "spotlight moment," as his father would say.

"Sorry, sir," Larke said, though he did not drop his weapon. Instead, with a gentle sweeping motion of his hand, he drew the watery orb across the spills on the counter. The mass was pulled up into the liquid, leaving only a thin layer of dew in its place.

He adjusted his shirt and ran a hand through his hair, as calmly as if he had been disheveled by a sea breeze, and not a viking.

"And I'm sorry to you, too, Norrevinter." The liquid, now laden with yogurt and soggy cereal, hovered in his left palm, but he extended his right to shake. "If we're going to be classmates, we can at least be civil, right? It's not like we get to choose our family histories." He flashed her an easy smile, and directed the now nutrient-rich water into the potted plant Schippers had so sorely abused. "We're past that, aren't we?"

He then turned his attention to Serenity, Dawn, and Nathan with an embarrassed chuckle. "Um... Well. I'm fine, and... Sorry, again. Politics can be a mess, and all. We're unfortunately like cats and dogs."

@vitofthevoid@echoicchamber@akayaofthemoon@avanhelsing
*does some light gardening*
*aggressive licking*
*licks*
*licks*
Mitch did not, in fact, know what a Santora was. Moreover, she really only had the vaguest idea of what a necromancer was based on pop culture. It seemed to all be rather morbid, but Nolan seemed nice enough; though if he were wearing dark eyeliner, it was hardly as if she would have known. But she imagined that goth kids spoke... gothier.

“I'm sorry, but I don't know a lot about families,” she replied, chasing a bit of egg around her plate. “My mom told me they were important before I came, but... We kinda kept to ourselves. So, I'm sorry if I've missed anything important? And, I'm a rune user. Which I just thought was, like. Writing in some kind of specialized universal sourcecode, which I guess it kind of is, but...”

She slipped another piece of fruit to Apple and took a quick breath, catching herself mid-ramble.

“But the Mitch comes from Leila Michelle, because it's easier to convince programmers that you know what you're doing when your online alias is a 30 year old man. And it just kinda, like...” Apple nudged her arm for another bite, which she obliged. A moment later, another voice came alongside them.

“Oh, I don't mind, if Nolan doesn't. But it was his plot first, so, you know-"

At the sound of a blood-boiling scream, Mitch released Apple's harness and ducked in the same moment. “What's happening?” she asked, covering her head with her hands in case something came flying.

And Apple, for his part (and because he was such a good Apple,) leapt atop Mitch's hunched back, assessing the threat with a series of angry, forward-fronded cackles and raised wings. His two forelimbs sat squarely on Mitch's shoulder, and his tail barb was curled overhead, ready to attack anything that came for his bad-eyes, good-snacks friend. Because he was a good Apple, and good Apples looked out for their friends.

@prosaic@lorellequips

Larke knew that scream.

The last time he had heard that specific cry, he was promptly bodychecked off of a low balcony into a hedge of honeysuckle. And before that, he turned to find a chair flying toward his person. Generally speaking, it was a sound that translated to "run, perhaps?"

"Move!" Larke yelled at Serenity and Canvas, though between the two of them and the table, Larke had little option to dodge before being struck full-on by at least 200 pounds of Norweigian anger. Delightful.

It was not, he thought in the split second before his face smacked into the breakfast table, unlike what he imagined being body-slammed by a bear would be. At least there was no open window.

"Good morning, Miss Norrevinter," he replied, his chipper smile falling into a half-smushed grimace where it was pressed into the wood. "Good of you to join us for breakfast," He pushed up a bit, testing her weight and strength. She was too big to buck off.

"But, you know." The juice in Larke's glass flew upwards to splash against his attacker's face, just as Larke arched to free himself again. His right foot hooked back around her grounded leg and yanked in against her ankle to topple her balance. When she moved to catch herself, he twisted free and pushed back to stand with his back toward the open room, rather than the table. The contents of a breakfast pitcher flew into one of his hands and hovered there in a tensioned orb of iced water. "Sorry, about the spill. I can wash it off, if you like?" He rolled his shoulders back, looking as self-assured and unruffled as ever.

Or, rather, as as self-assured and unruffled as someone could look after crashing into the table.

"Probably best to clean up before your aunt finds out you've been throwing yourself at me."

@vitofthevoid
Mitch's gut unclenched a little when someone responded: Male, warm, had been eating a few seconds before speaking, and named Nolan. A mental "check" went off next to "don't accidentally address the empty air in front of other students." She hoped she had not frightened him- The cough had taken her off guard. Apple, as far as she could feel, was still attached to his harness, and likely not stealing food. Another mental "check."

“Thanks, Nolan. It's nice to meet you,” she said, giving him a grateful, closed-lip smile. She leaned in an inch or so toward the table, enough to feel the edge of it brush against her hip, and set the plate down before reaching a hand out to the side to find her own seat. Whatever it was felt leathery. “And I'm Mitch. Well...” She sat and folded her hands in her lap, fiddling with a loose string on the side of her tan skort. “Properly Leila, but really just Mitch. Leila Ingram, but my family's not really very magick-y and whathaveyou, and I've never been much for, um... Well, yes. But just Mitch, really.”

As if sensing his master's impending death via awkward trail-offs, Apple gave a soft chitter from where he sat beside her feet. His fronds piqued forward to peruse the table, and the sluggish arm of his inner mouth plopped itself up next to Mitch's plate. “And this is Apple! He likes to be pet, but only when his vest is off.” Prodding about the plate with a fork, she located a piece of cantaloupe and slid it toward the edge of the table.

Like a harpoon, Apple's pharyngeal jaws shot forward through the fruit, and yanked it back into his beak with a sharp snap.

Mitch unfolded her napkin and placed it across her lap.

"So... What do you do? With your magic and the like, I mean.”

@Prosaic




Before Larke could slide into his seat, a third addition to the conversation was placing a finger to her lips and sliding up behind Dawn. The bright hue of her hair was certainly unique among the gathered students, but Larke was more interested in... Other features. She had a delicate face and soft, lovely curves that showed all the more as she bent to cover Dawn's eyes, all leading down to legs that just kept on going.

Maybe this place wasn't so bad.

He took it all in within about two seconds, quick to move his gaze to the table as he set his plate down. Dawn seemed to know her, which made Larke all the more curious as to how he had managed to miss crossing paths with the striking young woman. Serenity, Dawn said- Lovely name, lovely girl. Fitting.

"Larke Sterling, as Dawn said," Larke said with a warm smile, pulling out another chair beside Dawn's before offering his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Serenity."

Before he could further the conversation, one Percival Pelacour was bounding across the room in the most Percival Pelacour of ways. "Hey, Percy!" he greeted, reciprocating the tap with a friendly clap on the back. "Yeah, man. Go get some food- I'll catch you around!"

Returning his attention back to present company, he furrowed his brow a bit toward Serenity. "It's crazy, that we know so many of the same people, but not each other. Do you kind my asking where you're from?"

@echoicchamber @Akayaofthemoon



"You look well," Hilda said. The self-righteous, Scandanavian cunt.

Maeve shook hands with Kora, giving an encouraging nod as she did so. "I do teach combat," she replied, "and if your grip has anything to say, I suspect you'll be a strong melee opponent. But I will be needing you to come by my office and register all of your weapons with me before the day is out." She looked toward Hilda and her partner, with an apologetic (but not at all sorry) shrug. "Just policy."

She gave Hilda a final clap on the arm; a normally friendly gesture that would indicate absolutely no thinly-veiled animosity, and nodded to Kora. "If it's all quite well, we may as well walk you up to the assembly, Miss Kora. Lovely to see you again, Hilda." It was lovely, really, in the same way that cleaning the shower drain of a girls' communal bathroom was lovely: A long affair of pulling up things you had almost forgotten existed, and then remembered in one nauseating sweep.

She stepped back so that Kora could hug and gather her things, and then proceeded to lead her up the stairs. As soon as the elder vikings weren't looking, the smile dropped and Maeve was back to fiddling with her shirt cuffs in an effort to restore circulation to her hands. She said nothing as they ascended the steps to the common room.

There was, naturally, some concern as to Kora's reaction when she found Sterling up there, as well, but Maeve sincerely hoped the girl would have more restraint than her father.

Hope, however, was not the same as confidence.

@VitoftheVoid
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