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1 mo ago
Who the hell is Steve Jobs
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2 mos ago
Should've ran anyway, otherwise he cooked you
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3 mos ago
Yeah that’s cool and all but you’re either shouting to people that already agree with you or someone that’s heard it before and finds it unconvincing. Either way, you’re worked up for nothing
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3 mos ago
Don’t you people ever get tired of being angry all the time? Nobody’s changing their politics because of a status message on a roleplay website
5 likes
1 yr ago
Everybody I see complaining that this site is dead has like 3 IC posts total. My brother in mahz you pulled the trigger
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Ugh, Max hated the way she spoke so calmly about his... magic situation. Then again, what was he supposed to do? Tell Lilie to stop talking about it because weirdos like Eris want to use him as breeding stock? She already wanted to use Aaron as breeding stock; probably wouldn't even understand where the issue was.

"So wouldn't it follow that you should go jump in a lake to get a better handle on this?" Max mused unenthusiastically, "Go underwater, get used to shaping a sphere and then repeat without the vessel to hold all your magic." At least, that was how he would do it if he wanted a large portion of his magic to vacate his immediate vicinity. Maybe he could line up a bunch of cans and bounce his magic across them until his dowsing field compressed, now that he thought of it. No, he'd probably just get another mental 'stretch'. Or send all the cans flying - better out in the woods than here, though.

With their dismissal, Max promptly dropped that train of thought. Waste of time. Not worth caring about. He could cross that bridge when he got to it, preferrably with a competent instructor next to him.

"Whatever, I don't care. I'm hungry." Of course all his exhausting classes had to be before lunch. Not that this should've been an exhausting class, but apparently entertaining the professor's weird complex was also part of the curriculum. Just like high school, except the eccentricities were twice as bad when the teachers were half-insane from years of vampiric servitude and the power trip of being able to shoot fire from their hands.

A bleak future to look forward to. Hopefully when he finally snaps he'll get lucky and take Eris with him.

Speaking of Eris, lunchtime was probably his cue to try and pester Max into doing his homework for him in whatever mortal psychology class he probably padded his schedule with. Okay, he had absolutely no idea what vampire classes were even about, but Max assumed they were probably mortal-related. They had like a century to learn all the ins and outs of vampirism beforehand, after all.

The mage rose with a sigh and trudged off toward the exit, heedless of whether Short, Pale, and Lovestruck was finished with their theorizing or not. And even that was infuriating because there was a little Eris somewhere in the back of his head saying, 'That's right, always make them chase you,' and that meant Max was marketable to all that leech's tabloid sycophants. He couldn't fucking win today.


@Hero


The advent of an assembly itself wasn't concerning; the administration could've had any number of announcements deemed too important to simply be tacked on the end of a class by the professors. The concern arose from his professor's solemn vigil near the door. Auberon's first thought was that someone had died, since he doubted something like another attack on the church would warrant a public announcement if the one concurrent with the Luin massacre didn't. And if the Central Church itself had been attacked, he certainly would've heard the soldiers charging at the gates well beforehand.

Unfortunately, it seemed his intuition had failed him. Rumors that warranted a curfew and a transfer of guards weren't just rumors, which meant someone had actually disappeared already. How any kidnapper could operate underneath the noses of the Knights of Seiros and the watchful eyes of the Goddess without being immediately apprehended was mind-boggling, and Auberon suspected Michail agreed, based on his dour mood. Then again, that thief managed to get in simply enough. If he applied Clarissa's theory that every recent act against the church was a calculated part of a greater whole - which he frequently did, as the odds of this many unrelated iconoclasts disgracing Garreg Mach in such a short amount of time were slim - that might've been a trial run of their exfiltration plan. If their motive was simple coin, nearly any student here could generate quite the ransom. Otherwise, the next generation of the aristocracy would make for fine political leverage as hostages.

The target on his back almost made him want to go for a midnight stroll so he could ask them. After they'd been rendered harmless - with emphasis on the armless - but before they'd bled out, preferably.

Auberon opened his mouth to address his Housemates, but Lienna was already out of her seat and down the aisle before he could even ask where she was headed. At least she was probably the one he needed to worry least about. If the inevitable giant ice spire didn't tip off the guards to an abduction in progress, nothing would. "Kellen, you're probably the most valuable hostage in the Blue Lions," Auberon started before pausing briefly. The other boy barely left his room to begin with; he'd probably become a complete recluse if he thought he was in genuine danger. Derec was probably worth peanuts, so that just left the other handful of minor nobility to fret over and the mystery bastard who, quite frankly, Auberon wouldn't miss in the slightest. "But you're not the type to go skulking off alone, so I'm sure you'll be fine as long as you're mindful. Derec, don't try to play hero like that blunder with the fat bandit." Or at the very least, send Auberon an invitation before skewering the poor sinner.

Reining his face back into authoritative stoicism, Auberon twisted in his seat to address the remainder of his House within earshot. "I trust no one else will do anything rash either. Stay inside or bring an escort. Your sword isn't an escort."


@ThatCharacter@Hero
April 11th - Evening






If that response was meant to dissuade him, it sucked. Most students weren't Maxwell Alderman and this class was a waste of time anyway, so he might as well get started on the curriculum for the class he should've been in. She could've at least thrown him a hint though. Whatever, it couldn't be too hard. He spent his last class playing with shapes, and he could do it again. Turning a sphere into some elongated mess sounded like it should be easy anyway.

Max closed his eyes and drew his magic tightly around him before projecting it forward. It wormed its way into the obnoxiously sized metal water bottle sitting on a desk in the row before him easily enough. And the piercings of the girl behind him. And Lilie's pen. For fuck's sake, why was it harder to use less energy? Even stripping the magic from the metallic objects in his surroundings, while vaguely strenuous, did nothing to reduce the field that still lingered around them, hungry to inhabit the vessels they'd been denied the moment Max relaxed. Every tug on the sides of his bubble just reduced the entire field rather than squishing it into a different shape. As usual, he was left pushing and pulling in too many directions at once if he wanted to do what he actually intended to.

Waste of time. Waste of frustration too, seeing as he'd already passed the class according to the professor's criteria. He could probably take a hike out into the woods and master it in ten minutes if he wasn't busy peeling magic away from half the auditorium like gum stuck to the bottom of a shoe. Y'know, if he needed to. This was a dumb skill anyway. So then why was it still pissing him off?

"Is it easier when you're not surrounded by your element?" He questioned offhandedly toward Lilie, though a quick glance in her direction left him pretty sure she wouldn't have a satisfactory answer for him. She probably had yet to even project a dowsing field to begin with, let alone start shaping it. "You have no idea; I don't know why I asked."


@Hero


Rudolf was quite certain Victor remembering him was a far more commendable feat than the other way around. Well, he could've been politely pretending to recognize him instead. Or maybe he vaguely remembered one of the other Bergliez boys and assumed one of them had lost weight. He had no idea why Victor assumed mophead was the source of his discomfort though; he was still naked whether Isaac was the highest nobility in the land or some serf that floated from Brigid on a log. Maybe because Isaac had flailed so much. Why did Faerghians always have the worst reaction to his Crest?

"Nice to meet you. Both. Bo-both of you- Uh," He stuttered as he debated which arm to raise in order to wave without revealing too much of his body. In the end, he simply let his arms drop and resume the hug around his knees. Smooth. If everyone's kids were acquainted, maybe he'd underestimated the amount of effort invested in the Western Church. He couldn't fault House Varley for wanting to spread its influence to the Empire's neighbors, but how hard could it be to erect a few buildings and appoint a bishop or two? Then again, his idea of a chapel was a bit underwhelming; Bergliez holdings were often too fortified for such frivolous defensive liabilities like stained glass windows or expansive cathedrals that sat on prime real estate better used to house a castle. Outside of a few trips to Enbarr or Nuvelle Harbor, he prayed - if he found the time - in a quaint little room tucked against the outer wall of the local fort.

"Inter-house relations must be going well in your unit. I think the Lions imploded in ours." Rudolf shrank back into the not-very-deep depths of the pool from whence he emerged abruptly as that overzealous blond glanced over in tune with the conclusion of his statement. Thankfully, no scornful castigation emerged from the mouth of the Goddess' favored son, and Aubrey or Aubin or whatever his name was simply trailed his gaze along the wall in search of a place for that mural he'd rambled about. Probably didn't even notice the Bergliez boy was there; must've been an unlucky coincidence. Raising his mouth back above the water after the danger had seemingly passed, Rudolf continued, "Though I guess I can't really say I've been keeping to the Eagles myself either..." Kayden was... fine. Not the type of person Rudolf usually associated with - least of all because he was a prince and the ruby-eyed boy should've been beneath his notice anyway. But he probably knew the Edmund better and he'd talked to her exactly once.


@Hero


If Max rolled his eyes any more today, they'd tumble right out of his head. If she was this concerned about people failing her class, maybe she was just a shitty teacher. Especially with such a piss-easy subject. Was dowsing seriously that hard for the riff-raff that weren't blessed with Taldrin magic? Maybe those leeches that went wild over it had a point, if normal mages had to be trained to do anything beyond manipulating what was directly in front of them. Professor Mara raised a decent point though, if only indirectly. Max had never actually tested his range to its limits yet; he hadn't needed to. The ability to count every single metallic object on a city block was, quite frankly, not something he ever figured he'd need.

Max briefly flirted with the idea of pretending to struggle with the exercise, but he supposed he might as well get something out of the class since he clearly wasn't going to get a nap. At the very least, he'd have a head start on the higher courses where the professor wasn't an insecure hack. The brunette shifted his posture to something that passed for upright at last, closed his eyes, sucked in a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. What little tension there was in his frame melted away as his shoulders sunk and widened in mirror of his magic creeping further and further outward. At first, the field grew effortlessly; his energy, no longer restrained by any of Max's will to remain nearby and useable, washed across the immediate rows of seats, hungrily worming its way into every metallic trinket and chair frame in its path. Before Max had a chance to grow confident he could rip the piercings out of every woman in the auditorium at once, the easy flow of energy soon became the arcane equivalent of a tight stretch as the quicksilver currents that had filled out his dowsing field once again settled with the rigid surety of steel.

With another deep breath, Max tensed his muscles against nothing as he internally willed the magic out of the metal reservoirs within his field that it had instinctively inhabited and pushed it against the stubborn threshold of his sorcerous bubble. There had to be a more efficient way to do this; he was functionally managing hundreds of individual objects at once, and he wasn't even doing anything with them except trying to leave them alone. He could handle pushing magic out of his body, but every single dorm key in the room too?

As if to taunt him, his magic returned to its mercurial fluidity once he released the pressure he had exerted on it and it shrunk back to a more comfortable radius around the mage. Like a fucking string he'd pulled too tight - except he knew it wasn't too tight, his magic just loved sitting in pen tips and shit. Naturally, the most obvious solution was to just remove all the extraneous distractions.

Max raised a hand languidly. "Do dowsing fields always manifest as a sphere or are they shapeable without excessive effort on the caster's part? It seems like it'd be inefficient to project magic backward too if you knew the object you were dowsing for was in front of you." Or better yet, just snake the field around the chairs entirely.


@Hero@Achronum


Auberon sighed as everyone predictably noticed the issue in his mosaic idea. That's what he deserved for trying to pass himself off as a patron of the arts, he supposed. What else would fit? Landscape art? It was a church; religious iconography was a given. Not that he particularly wanted Saint Macuil to stare at his undressed form either. Depictions of violent events like the first Battle of Tailtean would be visually impressive but hardly conductive to relaxation, and most of the other key scenes from the scriptures would have the same failing of Saint Seiros oogling his naked ass. He hoped the Count had a seneschal that was skilled in interior decoration already, because Auberon was wholly out of his depth.

"Yes, thank you, I saw the flaw as soon as I said it. Not that naked women frolicking about would be any better in a place of worship," The blonde muttered in a deadpan. Saint Cethleann would probably weap if she bore witness to this conversation anyway. Taking a secret (or not-so-secret) lover in the face of an arranged marriage wasn't underheard of, but Auberon always assumed such acts were crimes of passion spawned from the heat of the moment that progressed into extended affairs, not an unvirtuous soul deliberately hunting for gullible courtesans. Couldn't Kayden just eat a potato or something?

"I'm not condoning any of this," Auberon leveled a stern glare at his fellow House Leaders to make it patently clear he had nothing but scorn for the idea, "but Jorah's right. If you absolutely must engage in some pointless tryst, at least do so with someone who fully knows what she's in for." Otherwise, the Empire was likely to surpass Faerghus in uppity bastard rebellions. "Or you could find a nice girl, walk her down to the cathedral, and remember the wages of sin is death and those shallow pleasures of the flesh will be little comfort in a lake of eternal fire," He suggested with a flippant perkiness in his tone. This was why the bathhouse needed to be churchlike - people like Jorah and Kayden had to be reminded where they were anytime the topic of women came up - which it often did for some reason whenever people were naked.

The blond lowered himself further into the pool as he sprawled out in a full body stretch that he held until the heat from the water fully soaked in. Might as well loosen up before he ended up all tense again from matters that didn't even concern him. As nice as the bath was now, Auberon was certain this feeling would be absolutely heavenly in the winter. Every village beyond the most irrelevant hamlets in Faerghus should have one of these, as far as he was concerned. Though heating the water might've been an issue. Was this a natural spring or did servants have to maintain a constant fire in the basement like those pretentious southern villas? Or maybe there was a spell for it. If Lienna could figure out icicles in her dirt hovel, surely one of the more well-off yeomen could figure out heated water.


@Obscene Symphony@POOHEAD189


Rudolf let out a startled yelp at Kayden's acknowledgement, muffled into incoherence by the water that submerged his mouth as bubbles frothed up on the surface of the pool above. Why? Of all the times for his unfortunate curse to fail him, why did it have to be when he was naked? The boy curled in on himself tighter, hugging his knees to his chest and squinting in concentration, as if willing his Crest into being would make everyone miraculously forget he was there. Unfortunately, it seemed the blood of Saint Noa was not his to command, and Kayden's eyes lingered too consistently for Rudolf to have shifted from an insecure little boy to a nebulous bathhouse phantom.

"I'd rather not talk to her at all if I can avoid it," Rudolf murmured in Kayden's direction as he finally lifted his mouth above the water's surface. The pool was too full. Too many eyes would have picked up at least a vague sense of his person. Any one of those strangers could take a direct interest in him, and then even ducking into the foliage wouldn't suffice to fully conceal him. He was stuck in the midst of an uncomfortable conversation between strangers about Veronica - which he might be expected to have an opinion on as an Adrestian student.

But it wasn't just strangers. Crown Prince aside, a head of black hair across the pool looked awfully familiar. He wasn't one of the Varley kids that Rudolf could recall, unless the count had a bastard running around that the Adrestian gossip sphere wasn't privy to yet. No, he'd definitely seen this guy before. Formal wear was involved. Probably. Something with a V... Vlad von- no, that sounded like a cheesy play. Victor! Victor von Varley. That still didn't sound right, but Rudolf was out of V names. He'd try it.

Rudolf sunk low in the water again and awkwardly shifted away from the House Leader triumvirate and the probable Gautier bastard, keeping his back to the edge of the bath and his knees up high to cover his... everything as he approached the arguing trio from outside his class. Whether his escape went unnoticed or not didn't concern him; he had nothing to say to Kayden with an audience present and even less to discuss with foreigners. They'd forget about him in a moment and he'd only have to evade the already-distracted students in the corner to slip away back to his room.

"Hi. Sorry. Uh. Victor, right? You probably don't remember me. Rudolf von Bergliez. I think we met at Count Hevring's ball a few years ago. Well, we didn't really meet, but I was there... in the corner... um. That- that sounds creepy, ignore that." The pallid boy fumbled awkwardly through his words, only able to maintain eye contact for short intervals before his gaze drifted back down to his knees. "Anyway," Rudolf continued nervously upon the realization that nothing he'd said so far actually had a point, "I just wanted to introduce myself and... say hello. I'd shake your hand but we're... uh... disrobed at the moment."

Saints have mercy, a conversation about Veronica would've been a million times less awkward than this. The limits of his own stupidity always managed to astound him; Rudolf had no idea how no one else saw it.


@POOHEAD189@Obscene Symphony@Hero
April 11th - After School


Daigo watched Kaito's outburst with growing enthusiasm. Finally, someone he could work with around here! So long as the other second-year didn't descend back into souffle-induced hysterics again, at least. Okay, fine, Kaito was weird, but that excitability was something Daigo sorely missed in a kitchen and it was hard to associate with the greats if one couldn't handle a bit of eccentricity. It was just a bonus that the brunette had nothing to do with the creepy mirror world.

"I like this energy, but I'm really not the guy to be following for pancake wisdom," The ginger offered with a lighthearted giggle. At Ueno's comment, he gestured toward her and nodded in contrast to his prior statement, "She's right." He might've been acting a bit too humble - this was definitely not his first meringue, but he hardly considered his dessert expertise all-encompassing. His comfort zone was sorbet, and it was hard to brag about being good at a recipe with only like three steps.

Daigo pushed his sleeves up as best he could to avoid any batter stains on his uniform, then paused at Genki's observation. Right. He had no idea where anything was or what the protocol around here was. The only thing on his mind at that moment was separating egg whites, honestly. And a niggling little reminder in the back of his mind not to mess up the meringue and look like a jackass; he'd probably used up all of his luck for the day avoiding any comments about his nervous mannerisms.

"Honestly, I was just gonna work with Maeda-kun, but if there's enough stuff for everybody..." The redhead's voice trailed off as his gaze swept the unfamiliar kitchen. Surely he wasn't so starved for time in a kitchen that the mere mention of pancakes of all things sent him stumbling over himself in an attempt to cook something. He cleared his throat and bashfully adjusted his glasses out of habit before looking back to Kaito, "But, erm, a tour would probably be a good place to start." Genki at least had produced a mixing bowl from... somewhere. Daigo had been too deep in his own head to even note where Kaito had pulled it from.


@Lord Orgasmo@Obscene Symphony@Hero


Goddess above, Auberon swore he spent more time on the ground than he did on his feet. So much for armored knight certification; he'd never get back up with a million steel plates on top of him. Other than that paltry revelation, he couldn't really say he found the session informative or even helpful. The class got batted around for a few hours; that wasn't a lesson, it was a sink-or-swim mess that taught the drowners nothing and gave the floaters minimal experience.

Well, there was likely something to be learned in there somewhere, but the blond was certainly too frustrated to notice it, and that was before he'd been thrown on his ass a few dozen times. At least actual sparring against a superior opponent gave him a chance; this drill didn't leave any room for anything more than the minor relief of a lucky block. A less virtuous soul might've at least drawn some petty satisfaction from Michail barreling his way through Kellen once or twice, but Auberon found only bitter reminders that his housemates were fucking stupid. Acting stupid. Whatever.

As if the Goddess herself had heard Auberon's misgivings, the class started toward the sauna at Kaira's suggestion. He couldn't find fault with it; he was far too tense that entire time, which meant he was far more tired than he should've been and on the cusp of flaring his Crest on the next unfortunate soul he accidentally bumped in the hallway. More than once he'd unwittingly sent a servant off-balance with little more than a brush of his hip when he was stressed as a kid, let alone an actual shoulder check in a crowded passage. But surely, if the blessed spas of Garreg Mach couldn't calm him, nothing could.

Auberon lingered under the fountains meant for rinsing off well after he'd dislodged any lingering dirt from the arena floor in hopes the water flowing over him would distract him from his thoughts. It didn't; he simply replayed the most prominent hits he took on an unilluminating loop in his head. With a shake of his head, Auberon tore his gaze away from the bare wall of the shower and departed for the public bath in search of a proper distraction. He almost turned around when he was greeted with Jorah and Kayden's derogation of Veronica, but he supposed he didn't really have any other choice of bathing partners. He certainly wasn't going to sit in a sauna with Kellen right now.

The blond impassively continued into the room and slipped into the pool politely away from everyone's gaze. It was tempting simply to not engage, but then he'd just be running simulations in his head again, albeit with nicer décor and that strange-but-pleasant scent that lingered in the air. Auberon let his eyes wander in hopes he could still latch onto a distraction, taking in the decorative plants and weird shadow next to Kayden that he swore he saw in the periphery of his vision, only to disappear when he actually looked over. That whole area was hard to even focus on, now that he thought about it. Probably a trick of the steam; one of the servants must've dropped in a fresh stone over there before Auberon entered.

"This place needs a mosaic of Saint Cethleann," He mused absentmindedly rather than voice his opinions on Adrestian character flaws, "To watch over the weary and remind Jorah not to covet another man's wife. Or is that perhaps improper for the men's bath?"


@Obscene Symphony@POOHEAD189
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