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the universe is grand, but life is grander

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Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University, - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean
The Homecoming Trials #1.39: Step by Step(II)

Interaction(s):@Jarl Coolgruuf @Roman
Previously: N/A

"So, where are you from?"

Makenna made herself comfortable, tucking her skirt underneath her and a stray hair behind her ear before leaning over to place her head upon a hand as she leaned on their shared arm-rest.

“I came from out east: A nice, cozy life up in Connecticut before getting dragged out this way.” For all her bitter words, she smiled warmly at her seating partner.

“And you…” Her head tilted slightly, finger tapping her cheekbone and she surveyed him and attempted to pinpoint his accent. “I want to say lower Midwest? Nebraska maybe? I'm also wagering you're a voluntary member of our merry band of misfits.”




"What do you do?"

Makenna looked up from trying to make sense of the tent instructions. For a moment, she just stared blankly at the other girl before breaking out in a short laugh.

“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?”

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Silas Rieger@Tackytaff, Yuliya Ilyanovich Vasilieva @Suicharte, Nazih Iqbal@Ziegenkonig, Esmi’nesta’tawaar@BlackRoseSiren, Yvain de Berbignon@jasbraq, Penelope 'Penny' Pellegrin@Force and Fury, Sven Bjørnsson

The Biro’s departure was as prompt and informal as their arrival had been. Except this time, rather than the rapid and novel transport of interdimensional magics, they were lent a more archaic means of movement.

A breakfast was provided: thick porridge of boiled grain, mixed with mushrooms and an unfamiliar purple ingredient reminiscent of a root vegetable, though much saltier and toothsome. It was offered to them in mugs, ladled from a large cauldron that was clearly meant to feed the entire bunkhouse. However meager and unceremonious, the first steaming fresh helpings were graciously offered to the foreign visitors before being brought to the usual residents.

Chorily awaited them in the stables, her partner from the day before nowhere to be seen. She gave them a brief guide to Marguhk care. Brief, for there was little too it apparently; it was a familiar route for the creatures, and they’d follow it without guidance. They’d fair much better foraging for food in the mountains than any of the group could hope to provide from their own lean rations demanded by the journey, and most importantly they would manage to guide themselves home without aid or obvious magic. No mention at all was made of the occurrence in the stables the day before, and Chorily gave the students no time to question it before hurrying to see them off at the city gates.




It took them three days time in total to move from the colossal mountains of central Callanast to the rocky plateau of Kyrguz. In their quiet wisdom, the Marguhk had led a path around the worst of the terrain so that their journey was far from perilous, if not a bit more uncomfortable.

Unfamiliar fauna and flora for the Constanian natives passed them on the journey, sparse though they were at high altitudes. Thin and twisting trees of grey bark with the occasional bunch of wide leaves broke through the stone along the way. The flora had no apparent regard for verticality, fertile soil, or keeping their roots hidden underground. Birds were plentiful, flying from the south to make nests within the mountain caves for the warmer months. During their second day, a herd of wild Marguhk was spotted some distance off, scaling a sheer cliff to feast on the leaves of one of the twisted trees. The last morning of their journey rudely awakened them with theft; burglary by one of the mountain's most infamous inhabitants, rock rats. The short-tailed rodents chewed into their packs and ate most of their rations in the night. It was a long and ill-tempered last day of travel as they descended from the last of the rocky hills into misty harbour of Tagayungri.




If they were expecting a warmer welcome in the human lands than the Hegelan city, they were left sorely disappointed. A boat awaited them along with two armed guards and a man in black robes. Their conversation in the local foreign language stopped as soon as the Biro’s were in view.

“Welcome friends,” Began the robed man in Avincian, accented but not nearly as halting as the Hegelans’. “My apologies for the inconvenience, but the Elder Ozodbek has granted you an audience; before your departure, if you may.” His smile was wide, but his eyes wandered and hands wrung themselves nervously; a silver ring could be seen flashing between his fingers every few seconds. The two men behind him snickered, and whispered something in Vissoriyan that made the mage flush.

“I am Nikolai Kozlov, graduate of St. Yuri’s and steward of Tagayungri. If you’ll follow me...”

He didn’t lead them far. The village leader’s residence was a house, differing from the others only in size; the walls high enough to accommodate a full loft above the main room. A rather wasteful display, given its owner.

Elder Ozodbek sat upon a large wooden chair in the centre of the lower floor. True to his title, the man appeared to be at least eighty, withered and barely moving, saved for the shaking tremble that came with each breath. His eyes were closed while he spoke, giving the impression of blindness in addition to his naturally perceived feebleness. He was speaking with a man; a local farmer named Dastan, they would later learn. Out of the members in the party, only Yuliya could follow the argument being spoken in their native tounge.

“You and yours survived the cold and more, our people have withstood worse.”

“Survival?” There wasn’t the respect you’d expect to see from a subject to their sovereign in the farmer’s tone. The man was angry, and shaken. “Five have died! More will follow - and our fields, our tools, the livestock - how are we meant to produce!?”

“I offered you aid before without request before. I know my role well enough, remember yours.”

“Three weeks and we have heard nothing. There will not be enough harvest to prepare for another year at this rate, we need -”

“Argue with me no more Dastan, help has arrived. Go home to your family and wait for the problem to be solved.” With one hand, the old man waved the other away, all while beckoning the group of Biro’s closer with the other. His eyes remained closed.

“Closer!” He shouted out in Vissoriyan towards the group of newcomers. Nikolai flinched, but moved past the farmer to stand in front of the elder.

“The mages we were told of have arrived,” He confirmed to his master, “Come far from the twin continents where Avincian-”

The elder brushed his councilor's explanation aside, before returning to his native tongue.

“The world has gotten too large for me to follow. You will translate for me, Nikolai, so these strangers might understand.”

Kozlov nodded obediently, and explained as much to the group.

“We had a late storm three weeks ago,” The elder began, his words repeated by their guide.
“Cold enough to freeze the harbour over again for three days. Bad omens to start a new year.” There was a solemnity to the elder’s voice that was not carried through by Nikolai, who seemed hesitant to even repeat the superstitions.

“Whatever southern curse has come and reached us - the storm was the first thing. Next, came the beast.”

“A Begemot was spotted two days later, it tore through a farm not long after. There have been four rampages so far. Five people killed, and the year's crops will have to be resown - if there is even time after rebuilding from the monster’s destruction.”

“I will pay you to take care of this problem for me.”


“Nikolai!” Their interpreter jumped at the sudden acknowledgement of his existence again. “Answer their questions and see to it that they’re taken care of for the night.” The ancient man made no motion to move or dismiss, but none was required to know the audience was over. Nioklai urged them back out the way they came until the smell of fish and boats from the docks surrounded them once more.

“You’ll excuse the elder, this place is… remote.” His hands twisted again, spinning the ring on his middle finger. “But the Begemot is a problem, curse or not, and I will aid you however I can in defeating it, so please, ask me anything.”



Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University, - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean
The Homecoming Trials #1.28: Step by Step

Interaction(s):@Jarl Coolgruuf @Roman
Previously: N/A

Makenna kept half her attention on the final proceedings, the rest on one-handedly typing out text messages on her phone; tucked unseen in the bag strapped across her chest. It wasn't as though there was much to hear from their team lead and his lackey they didn't already know. The arrival of Eclipse team briefly interested her, but aside from the one obvious beastly member, there was nothing to identify the abilities of the others and thus no reason to give them much consideration. The small display between teaching assistants finally forced an eye-roll from her.

“Rivalry, spirit, go team.” Makenna wiggled a fist as high as her shoulder, just in case the sarcasm hadn’t come through her dead-pan tone. Didn’t these graduated adults have better things to do than play camp councillor?

She wasted no time moving towards the back vehicle with Tad, having decided well ahead that Jim’s get-friendly attitude was not for her. Jim, Tad, Ryan. It seemed anything more than four letters was too complicated. The moment one tried to pin her as ‘Ken’ she’d officially have to bail. She scanned the small car for a seat, opting to sit with Trevor, one of the younger boys in the group and someone she assumed would be easy to manipulate. If they were going to be participating in some childish competition- she’d at least win.

“Oh hey,” She began, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered a mile wide as she gave her duffle bag a final kick underneath the seat with surprising force. “Mind if I sit with you? A bit tight on space,” She gestured to the surrounding cabin, but didn’t wait for a response before taking the seat next to him - close enough their knees bumped. “Trevor right? - Makenna” She introduced herself, pocketing her phone before reaching out a hand, still all smiles as she gave the boy her apparent undivided attention.




It was an impressive display on Makenna’s part to keep from further eye-rolls or sarcastic remarks as I’m-Just-Like-You councillor Jim tried again to initiate some form of comradery among the young adults.

“No red meat,” She called out to Tad with an innocent smile, just as the group began to break.

Already people were pairing off. Makenna considered her options. The bitch and nut job she’d been stuck with at the intake house were the first off the table. She had no interest in doing work on behalf of the wheelchair bound girl, and alternatively found the impressive Afrikaner too intimidating to actually approach.

”Hey Luce,” She decided by taking a step toward the blonde, realizing too late she knew next to nothing about the quiet girl.

“Mind pitching together?” She asked, “Think I might have spotted the one spot slightly flatter than the others.” Her thumb pointed over her shoulder to indicate the tent in question, the other hand blocked the sun from her eyes as looked for a reaction to her cheerful greeting.

The boys from the carpool were left forgotten with the others. For all the flirting, Makenna was engaged. Happily, even, at times.

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Cold Comfort I
Interacting with @jasbraq


It was rather dizzying, being warped from the clearing to his room, back again, then through a portal through to yet another Hegelan city. The nasuea it gave him seemed more than enough punishment for his outburst- if it could even be called that. Far as he saw it, Silas had simply asked a question after being dragged around for some nonsense game half the night. Harrachora had more in store for him through. He'd been brought back for a thorough scolding, only to be sent along anyway.

"Nothin', but a waste of everyone's time." He grumbled to himself, not paying nearly enough attention to their guide as they were taken through the city.

After their tour, Silas followed the others in splitting up; using his most basic of knowledge in the Hegelan language learned from his short time in Hogh Munkhelad to navigate the city. He managed to barter himself three prime shots and four brews, only to find himself quite lost three turns later.

The main road forked into two direction from where he stood- and a colossal statue lay at the split's apex. A perfectly round sphere. Even to Silas's vision, it was strikingly precise, if not totally smooth. He reached out to inspect- and found the surface to be etched in unfamiliar symbols. He opted to remain in the area for a time- in part due to curiosity, part in fear of further losing himself.

It was nearly a relief with the stuffy Perrench noble of the group rounded into range. "Yvain!" Silas rushed to the boy, dragging him quickly to the monument. "What do you make of this?"

If the Perrench was to follow the blind boy, he would have a chance to inspect the monument's markings; the strange language still foreign he would at least estimate that they were names, but underneath the sphere lay an unusual symbol; a circle, surrounded by a diamond with a line striked through.

Qasem Laghmani


Castle Mandelein I

The rain reminded Qasem of home. Unfortunately, that was where the familiarity stopped. Kerrimand smelled of mud and moss, and the water only served to seep into their clothes and leech out what little heat they still had. Curiosity alone kept his spirits from falling completely. Qasem made no hurry to keep up with the others; for all the discomforts of their journey, there was novelty and discovery to be had. He plucked the sun-burst fungi, cutting small pieces into vials for later examination. Moss from the sides of yew trees made it into his sack as well- as did the carnivorous plant’s leaves.

He almost regretted not having the time or ability to sketch the origins of the collected samples. Not that there would have been time to do so, he had fallen behind already, but before he could move to catch up, another distraction came. A small salamander approached his foot in an attempt to debilitate him with his tail, and devour with his toothless maw.

“Hello small one,” He cooed, reaching down to scoop the creature up. The sticky coating intrigued as much as it disgusted him. Qasem rubbed the substance between his fingers before smelling it, and eventually putting it to his tongue, hoping either the taste or interaction with his own body chemistry would help identify its properties.

Once finished his analysis of the animal, he reached out, so that the infant salamander hung over the large pitcher plant- a sort of offering, in an attempt to discover its reaction to a potential meal.




Silas Rieger@Tackytaff, Yuliya Ilyanovich Vasilieva @Suicharte, Nazih Iqbal@Ziegenkonig, Esmi’nesta’tawaar@BlackRoseSiren, Yvain de Berbignon@jasbraq, Penelope 'Penny' Pellegrin@Force and Fury, Sven Bjørnsson


The city the Biros appeared in wasn’t all that different from the one they’d arrived in to chase Harrachora’s flying messenger. Even the portal they had emerged from was nearly identical to that in Hogh Munkhelad, save the missing colossal statue they had waited at. The buildings were just as small, the sky remained a dark stoney ceiling, and the people milling around them were the short and stocky beings they’d come to know as Hegelans.

Two in particular stood ready at attention not five feet away- waiting for them.

“Welcome to Hoch Dorumvir!” The first greeted, in a voice that revealed her to be a woman despite the magnificently dark beard that was broken only by a wide smile of white teeth. Both her hands shot upwards upwards in greeting. Her right reached to Yuliya and her left towards Penny; the first pair to have stepped through. The second of their welcoming party remained silent, arms and brow crossed as they regarded the single Yasoi in the group warily.

“I am Chorily MochMurdo,” Their first continued, vigorously shaking the arrivals hands in a surprisingly strong grip. “My partner Moira and I have been directed to welcome and guide you to our city.”

“Missing one,” Moira finally chimed in, tugging upon the reddish mutton chops that framed her wide jaw. “Meant to be eight of yous.” Her penetrating gaze fell upon Marz next, and the sight of him seemed to give her pause.

“It’s no matter,” Chorily hurriedly continued, bringing her hands together in a loud clap. “There is much to do and-”

The portal flickered to life for a brief second; spitting out a single smallish figure before vanishing again. Silas staggered forward, running into Nazih, and beginning a domino effect within the group that nearly sent them all to the ground.

“-Damned condescending stuck-up prick He muttered, kicking loose gravel and spitting in the place the portal had been before spinning to face the group. “What’d I miss?”

The Hegelan ambassadors lead the Biros through the mercantile district of the city. Vendors of all sorts shouted out to the foreigners, promising goods at exorbitant prices. Chorily headed them to pay no mind, and went so far as to point out the shops that would offer them good quality Hegelan brews and artifacts for their Constantian coins at decent cost between her other chattering comments on the city: Its great history, the unfortunate separation of the Hegelans, and most importantly how Hoch Dorumvir was truly the pinnacle of Hegelan society in culture, craft, and knowledge.

Their final destination proved to be a bunkhouse clearly designed for travelers. The ceilings and doorways were higher, so that all save for Sven and Nazih were able to move about comfortably without crouching. Even the beds indicated to them at the far end of the long hall were larger than the rest. Only the smell; something damp and musky that permeated the entire building, tempered the hospitable atmosphere. Even Moira’s stoney countenance was shaken after being in its presence for more than a few moments

Irkned Margukh.” She grumbled, making a show of covering her nose with a sleeve. “I’ll be outside once you’re done.” Without waiting for confirmation, she spun and walked out the door.

Chorily’s polite smile increased doubly as if to make up for her partner's manners. “Many find the smell uncomfortable, but it cannot be helped,”[/colour] She motioned for the group to move towards a second door, opposite the entrance. Past it was a stable; or something that resembled one. Everything was made of stone, from the pens to the trough, even the floors had no hay to soften them.

There was only one sort of animal housed inside - though there were dozens, kicking and bleating in stalls. Goats - the Constantians would recognize first, thought not like any others they had seen before. These were larger beasts, with impossibly thin legs and narrow hooves supporting a mass of hair and horns; the latter of which curled ornately in perplexing twists so they reached far behind the creatures’ heads.

“Marguhk.” Chorily explained, “They’ll take you as far as Tagayungri. A safe journey this time of year, doubly so with these friends taking you.” The Hegelan woman reached towards the closest stall, where a muzzle appeared in front of strange eyes with cubed pupils. The Marguhk regarded the hand, and failing to find a treat there, began to make for the woman’s beard.

Chied! Chied Remok! A small pair of hands from some unseen person reached from within the stall to pull the Marguhk back by the horns. It relinquished the woman gently, causing Chorily to giggle excitedly. “Not to worry! They’re sweet creatures, well mannered and trained - Will even find their own way home after taking you where you need to go.” She gave the animal a final pat on the nose before ushering the Biros out back the way they’d entered. “Best speak to Moira,” she urged, pointing to the door leading outside, in case they had somehow forgotten. Then she too left, back into the stables where faint sounds of shouting in a foreign language could just barely be heard.

Moira was waiting for them outside, leaning against a stone wall and licking a stone that appeared to be made of amber, which she quickly stored away in a pocket upon seeing them.

“Harrachora told me what you’re to do.” She began, already hurried to be done with the group. “In ten hours you’ll take the Marguhk through the southwest corner of Kyrguz towards Tagayungri - there’ll be a boat to take you from there to Kirimansk. Bring the cargo back upstream again and we’ll have transport to bring you back up the mountain as well. Questions?” The final word came out more as a challenge than an offer of help.

“Why all this traveling?” Penny spoke up, “What was the point of using teleportation magic to take us only part way?”

Moira sighed, and rolled her eyes before looking towards the one-legged girl. “Outsiders don’t use that magic in Vossoriya.”

Penny frowned at the non-answer, “What about the cargo then? Will you at least tell us about that?”

The Hegelan glared at her, produced the amber again, and popped the entire stone in her mouth. “Strange words from down south,” She muttered around the object, her words even harder to understand than usual. “Don’t know and ain’t my problem. Less we have to do with outsiders the better.” And, apparently deciding that was the end of the discussion, Moira left, leaving the Biros to their own devices for the few hours they had remaining before setting off.



Interlude II - A Year in Passing


Silas didn’t think it possible, but the following semesters were busier than even his first; desert excursions to dragon battles notwithstanding. Ahora was stubbornly good on her word for tutoring, to the point where her visits were met with nearly as much dread as excitement. But progress was made, only for more more work found awaiting Silas on the opposite side of literacy. He was behind. Well behind, as most of his Zenos were more than happy to remind him on a daily basis, along with diatribes of his good fortune for admittance and continued enrollment at the academy at all. As though the victory he’d carried through the trials had meant nothing.

In truth there were multiple diversions that kept Silas from focusing on studies. His extra-curricular activities found a sharp increase, along with a sudden change of direction in the new year. Not that his old habits could be entirely shaken. Before Caldares had chance to arrive, Silas had freed many possessions from his classmates.

Yuliya and Desmond had both been hit within the same week, the former as pre-work for Nox Arcanum, and the latter as pay off for the distraction that came the night of.







The empty plot that had held Moli’s for so many years was bought up by some wealthy noble who had sought to buy up and push out a third of Mudville. His ill-gone visit with Bianca had taught Silas that his home had already been lost to him once; when he’d run and not looked back. But too lose it again, have it reformed to serve the aristocratic class that had stepped on them for too long proved too much to bear. The Mud Rats hadn’t started as a movement, or even real group. First it had just been Silas, reunited with Ishto and a few other old friends, bitter and angry about the injustice done to them by the city, Moli, and just about anyone else who wasn’t them. They spent nights camping out the Mudville docks, relieving ships of construction supply deliveries as soon as they made it ashore. The deal struck with Desmond showed the first real increase in their efforts, but as the weeks went on, and more of the citizens of Mudville found themselves pushed or priced out of the only home they’d ever known, the rag-tag group’s numbers grew. Eventually it became rare for a night to pass where more work wasn’t undone than had been completed the day before on the newly funded-projects.

He may have been burning the candle at more ends than he had to light, but nodding off in class wasn’t such a problem when the teachers weren't expecting to see your eyes anyways.


"You can't possibly expect me to drink all this."

Hannah had brought a fishbowl to the group's table. It was filled with a bright red semi-translucent drink, and Makenna could smell the sugar in the concoction, something of a feat given the dizzying amount of alcohol.

"All yours baby-girl!" Cheered the blonde, pushing the over-sized glass directly in-front of Makenna and offering a wink. "Got them to make it just for you, figured you should get a little reminder of home on your first night of drinking. Southern spirit and all that." Hannah's usual barely detectable accent was played up to a degree of ridiculousness by the end of her speech, the girl was already near plastered and the night had barely begun.

"C'mon," Bemoaned another voice from another sashed bridesmaid. Jenny was plucking at the cheap plastic tiara on Makenna's head. "How else are we going to get you on stage?"

As though on cue the speakers above them gave out an ear splitting bow-out as the current karaoke participant attempted and failed to hit a note.

"God they're terrible," Jenny threw her head back laughing after she'd recovered enough to uncover her ears. "Please Kenna, we beg you- end our suffering."

"Please," She scoffed, though her face warmed from the indirect praise. "I'm certainly not going first- or alone."

It earned her an eyeroll and another push of the drink towards her. "As our beautiful bride commands- Shall we show her how it's done?" Hanna asked, offering a hand to Jenny and the pair worked their way to the stage.

The drink was sickeningly sweet, a hurricane, Hannah would call it later. A Mississippi novelty, Hannah told her upon returning. That alone might have been enough to dislike it. Makenna joined the idle chatter of the three remaining bridesmaids while the other two began a string of duets. They'd been feeding her drinks all night, and she'd given in more times than she'd expected. It was a devious and dirty trick, the way her entire bridal party worked as a group to queue up her favourite songs, topping off with tacky 80's power-ballads they knew her to be unable to resist.

So it was Makenna found herself in front of a bar filled with some fifty-odd people, microphone in hand and the first notes of I Have Nothing blaring out from behind her. She couldn't quite recall how she'd gotten there- nor was there time to think long on it before the lyrics began scrolling on the screen before her.

"Share my life-" The rancorous cheering from her table covered the bulk of the first entire verse. Four more straws had been added to the over sized drink, and they were making the most of it. For all the embarrassment that came with it, Makenna found confidence in the support of the others and began truly belting the chorus. A love ballad. It was a bit much, even for a bachelorette party, but it was Carson Makenna thought of as she sang, but her grandmother. Their many evenings over an old record player, memories of happy nostalgia easy to get lost in. She chalked it up to the delusion of alcohol, but it felt as though the entire audience had gone silent to listen to her.

"I have nothing, nothing- NOTHIN-" The final loud note before the end of the song- and the speakers blew out again. Reflexively Makenna buckled over to cover her ears, only to realize she
couldn't hear in the first place. The music had stopped, and when she looked up to the rest of the bar, she saw chaos. Half the furniture and people were blown clear across the room- and glass was everywhere. Under all the tables and a sea of the stuff behind the bar and under where the windows should have been. Dully, Makenna was aware of a damp warmness running down the sides of her neck before collapsing to the floor.


Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University, - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean
The Homecoming Trials #1.01: Where You Are

Interaction(s):
Previously: N/A

It wasn’t as though Makenna was unfamiliar custodial labour. Her first job had been washing out the back washrooms and kitchen of a greasy rest-stop on weekends. Except even after that experience she swore she’d never suffer through that indignity again. Now she found herself bent over the toilets of the women’s upstairs bathroom some six years later. She wasn’t even getting paid. Part of Makenna had wondered if her mother somehow interfered to ensure her daughter was assigned to nothing other than sanitation for the first entire month of classes. Of course such a feat would require the bitch to actually show an interest in Makenna’s academics, or worse still, acknowledge her existence in the first place. At least scrubbing proved a decent outlet for frustrations. She had enough to get rid of after all. As if the ever looming yet unseen monitoring of her mother wasn’t enough she had to worry about roommates, an entire cohort of wayward young adults, and some damned tedious sorting trial- as though the hours and hours of psych evaluations hadn’t told the board more than enough about each of them.

There wasn’t time to do much else besides shower and change before the assembly. Another pointless formality. All of them had been debriefed of the intake process half a dozen times over. She surveyed those around her as the foreign anthem played, making out the familiar faces of the intake house and decidedly avoiding eye contact with any she found. Most were younger, all immature as least as far as Makenna saw it. She’d worked hard to develop a respectable social circle in her old life; three of her bridesmaids were pursuing doctorates already- only pushed backwards into a rag-tag group of rejects.

As the ceremony ended a group of them began to… congeal together at the stadium exit. Makenna hurried past them without so much as a second glance. She could smell Calliope’s bougie perfume as she brushed her shoulder. Sharing a room with the brat was already testing the limit of her false politeness and cheer.

She managed to wait the entire trip back before checking her phone. She knew better than to expect anything; not that it did anything to quell the pathetic hope in her heart rising only to be crushed each time. Unthinkingly, her thumb pressed Carson’s name on the recently dialed screen, bracing for the too-familiar voicemail message.

Except it rang. Four full times, and just Makenna had begun to hold her breath, there was a pause in the tone.

“Hullo?” There was an awkward beat, where Makeena half expected the rest of the recording that failed to follow.

He picked up her slack; “Ken? Sorry I’ve missed your calls- that time difference is a real bitch.”

She’d hated the nickname since the moment he’d first said it on their third date. But it made her misty eye-ed to hear him say it after so long.

“It's me,” She manged to confirm before needing to clear her throat, and turning up the smile until it could be heard in her voice. “Been trying to get a hold of you for a couple days now. There’s this… Thing.” It was always awkward bringing up anything PRCU related, it was too close to all the things they’d put so much effort into avoiding. “An excursion, a sort of boot-camp I guess. Might get really busy-”

The other team blackjack members had caught up to her head-start and made their way back to the intake house. Calliope the first to trickle in, and closely followed by the pale Brit.

“Makes sense, think you’ll-”

“Sorry, I'm going to have to hang-up.” She said, suddenly intent to end the conversation before any of the others overhear details of her personal life. “I just wanted to say bye- but I should be able to slip in a call when we get there.”

There was another pause, this time from Carson. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’ve just gotta go for now. We’ll talk tonight. Promise?”

“You got it.” All the certainty of his delivery was voided by the hesitation that came before it. Not that there was anything she could do about that now.

“Love you,” She said as goodbye, her pleasant smile turned pinched but voice still jovial over the phone.

“You too.” Was his reply, and they both hung up.

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Student Magic Specializations


Start of Arc Four

❖ Silas Reiger: 0 2 2 0 4 0 0 0 0 0 0


Magnetic Arcane (+1) Binding (+2) Chemical Kinetic(+1) Atomic Blood Temporal Dark Command Primordial

Trials and Tribulations V















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