webboysurf

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: Canis Dorms, P.R.C.U. Campus - Dundas Island, Pacific Ocean}

Take on Me #3.045: Anywhere, Whenever

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_{Interaction(s): Harper @Qia, TEAM BLACKJACK}

Previously: When Doves Cry

Rory's head felt heavy as the bleary fog of waking up clouded his senses. It took him a few moments to notice his phone alarm had gone off. He pulled back the covers, trying to be careful of Haven's wings as he slid out of bed to silence the alarm. His eyes shifted to the open window, and then to the bright sky. He looked down at his phone, startled by the time. This wasn't his first alarm… this was an emergency one he set to remind himself to take a shower before class. His eyes shifted back to the bed, ready to wake Haven up. But she wasn't there.

Rory's vision was blurry as he rubbed the weariness out of his eyes. At first, he was hurt. They had made a habit out of going for a morning jog together. Though, the pain turned to guilt. He had lied to her, perhaps she needed time to think over everything. He sighed, resigning himself to take a shower and skip out on his morning workout. He slid on some boxers, and walked over to pick up a towel he left drying near the window from the day before. He nearly tripped into the wall, his foot aching slightly from stepping on something soft but firm. He looked down towards his feet.

Haven's shoes were still there.

And so was her bag.

Rory dropped the towel he had managed to snag, and rushed to his phone. He quickly unlocked it, and scrolled through his contacts. He hit Haven's number first. His heart plummeted as he heard a distinct buzzing coming from her bag. He ended the call, moving up a contact in his phone list. He tapped her name, and lifted the phone to his ear again.

As soon as he heard Harper pick up the phone, Rory's panicked voice practically screamed into the receiver. ”They took Haven! Right out of my room, middle of the night! She's gone! She fucking said it would happen! Bastards!”

Harper woke with a start, her heart pounding in her chest as the shrill sound of her alarm clock pierced the early morning silence. The blurry world around her slowly came into focus, and she squinted against the soft, golden glow of her desk lamp, which was still on from the night before. She blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog from her mind and shake off the remnants of sleep. As she took a deep breath, the familiar scent of the sea mingled with the crisp morning air seeping through the slightly open window, bringing a soothing calm that began to ease her racing heart.

Harper’s desk was a chaotic landscape of crumpled notes, thick textbooks, and a collection of empty coffee cups, each one a clear sign of her marathon study session that had stretched well into the night. She had dozed off with her head resting on an open textbook, her notebook beside her filled with hastily scribbled equations and half-formed ideas, evidence of her frantic efforts to catch up. Despite the disarray, a small, satisfied smile played on her lips as she surveyed the scene. She had done it; she had finally caught up on all the work she had missed, and the sense of accomplishment was enough to make the mess seem almost beautiful.

Almost. She hadn’t quite lost her marbles yet.

Stifling a yawn, Harper got up and started cleaning up the mess, her thoughts drifting to the day ahead. She had planned to spend it shopping with some members of her team, hoping the lighthearted activity would relieve their individual stresses and help her reconnect with specific ones like Katja. The last time they’d talked, Katja had seemed burdened, and Harper hoped this outing might help uncover those issues, which were bound to be compounded thanks to the trials. However, a nagging doubt lingered in the back of her mind. What if the outing didn’t go as planned? What if Katja’s burdens were too heavy to be lightened by a simple day out?

As if in answer to these worries, her phone buzzed on the desk, and as Harper reached for it, her eyebrow arched in surprise at the name displayed on the screen. Rory was not one to reach out casually, and their interactions had always been sporadic at best. So why was he calling her of all people now? Curiosity piqued, she swiped to answer, a greeting already forming on her lips. However, she was quickly interrupted by the panicked voice on the other end and the words spewing out of it, her hands almost dropping her phone in the process.

“Rory, calm down. Tell me exactly what happened,” she said, her voice steady but urgent. She could hear the rapid, shallow breaths on the other end, a clear sign of Rory’s distress.

Rory took a moment to catch his breath, pacing through his room as he tried desperately to slow himself down. ”Haven’s been sleeping in my room. I just woke up, and she’s gone. The window was still open, her shoes and bag are still here. Both bags…” He paused for a second, a lingering fog still seeming to hang over him that he couldn’t quite shake. He shook his head, as if trying to shake it out. When it wouldn’t leave, he grunted before continuing. ”She said she was told Foundation students like her went missing.”

Harper’s pulse quickened, a wave of dread flooding her senses. This was it. This was her worst nightmare coming to life, the one terrifying thought that had haunted her ever since she and Haven had begun investigating the Foundation. The moment they had uncovered the disturbing truth about the missing students, a dark cloud of fear had settled over her, and now it seemed to be materializing.

Her mind raced, replaying every clue that her and Haven had gathered. Amma and Tiamat. She was now convinced they were separate names, if not separate entities, given the girl’s raw, unfiltered reactions during the trials. Harper suspected that Tiamat was intricately connected to Amma in some way. But whatever it was, her instincts told her that there was a good chance this connection extended to the ones responsible for Haven’s disappearance.

Then there was the missing student, whose abilities mirrored Haven’s, a similarity that had always unsettled her and hinted at a deeper, more dangerous conspiracy. It suggested a pattern, a deliberate and calculated selection process by Haven’s abductor, one that she couldn’t yet fully decipher. Why them? What was the motive behind targeting individuals with such specific abilities?

And finally, the faculty at PRCU, once revered as unwavering pillars of trust and guidance for Harper, had recently revealed themselves to be unreliable and shrouded in ambiguity. Their motives were cloaked in the same secrecy and deceit that Alyssa had hinted at, casting a long, dark shadow over the institution she had once held in the highest regard. This disillusionment had truly taken root after Amma’s cynical speech on the beach, where she had laid bare her view of the manipulations at play. However, it was Haven’s sudden disappearance now that was the final straw for the brunette, solidifying her growing mistrust.

Harper had always prided herself on her intolerance for incompetence, believing there was no excuse for it, especially in an institution that had weathered so much turmoil over the years. In her eyes, the trials had been a turning point, a moment that should have prompted the implementation of stringent safety measures to prevent any further incidents. Yet, here she was, grappling with the harsh reality that those she had placed her trust in had failed her once again, and in the most devastating way possible.

“Listen…” she began, her voice cutting through the heavy silence that had settled over the call. “I don’t know how much Haven told you, but we need to rely on ourselves now. We need to inform the team about everything. No teachers, not even O’Neil. We can’t trust them anymore.”

And when she considered those words further, she knew she couldn’t trust herself to handle this alone either. Not this time.

”That's not a good move.” His words were sudden, rushing out before he could think them through. He panicked. He couldn't tell Harper what was going on and what he was up to. He needed another excuse. ”Half the team is still down for the count. Lorc's out, Rora is checking on him, Gil doesn't need more stress… even Banjo has a bad leg.”

He paused, staring at the open window. He wanted to claw the surge of emotions out of his chest. But he took that moment to catch his breath. A weird realization dawned on him. ”Wait… have you and Haven been…” His voice trailed, as he didn't exactly know what they could be conspiring about. That didn't matter as much to him. ”Not important. But OK, let's say we don't let Jim know… How do you plan to find who took Haven?”

With each compelling reason stated, Harper felt the fragile hope inside her begin to give way to a growing sense of fear. Fear for the state of her team, whose cohesion now seemed precarious. Fear for the institution she had called her second home for the past year, a place that now felt like anything but. Most of all, fear for Haven, whose fate was shrouded in uncertainty. The gnawing dread of not knowing where her winged friend had been taken, or if she was even still….

Harper pushed back the tears that pricked at her eyes, threatening to spill over.

“I don’t…know,” she said weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. In that moment, she felt small and overwhelmed, the weight of the situation pressing down on her. Her hands trembled slightly as she gripped the phone tighter, seeking some semblance of control. Closing her eyes briefly to gather her scattered thoughts, she added, “Maybe there’s something we can find. Some…clue.”

Rory sighed into the receiver. He had hoped that, as per usual, Harper would have the answer. Or anyone, for that matter. But no. More mysteries, more collusion, more secrets. And Rory Tyler was left trying to hold himself together as everything crushed in around him. He shook his head slowly, trying to compose his thoughts.

”Canis Dorms. Come take a look, see if you and your Elf eyes can see something. I'll throw on some clothes. Then we let the team know.”

Rory’s voice was haggard and flat. He stared blankly at a pile of clean clothes he hadn't bothered to fold. Without much warning, he hung up. He didn't have any more words to say. He tossed on an old t-shirt and some wrinkled jeans, leaving his room to settle on the common area's couch. He sat straight, staring at the blank TV without focusing on anything.

When she heard the frustrated sigh on the other end, Harper felt a sharp pang of guilt for not having the answers they both so desperately wanted and needed. She knew it would be better not to dwell on her shortcomings, and in any other circumstance, this would have been easy for her to do. But now…it was so damn hard. The whole situation pressed heavily on her, making it difficult to push past her feelings of inadequacy. Biting her lip, she forced herself to move once Rory hung up, grabbing her hoodie and throwing it over her tank top. She shoved on a pair of jeans with trembling hands, each movement a struggle against the overwhelming sense of helplessness that threatened to paralyze her just like it had during the trials.

Only this time there was no Lorcán to save her.

Once she arrived at the Canis dormitory, she found Rory sitting on the common area couch, staring blankly at the dark, unlit TV as if it might suddenly offer some answers. He looked more defeated than she had ever seen him, his shoulders slumped and eyes vacant, lost in a sea of troubling thoughts.

“Rory,” Harper said softly, her voice gentle as she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, hoping to snap him out of his headspace.

Rory jolted at Harper's touch, a moment of shock before he returned to seeming a bit dulled. Lost might be a better word for it, though. His eyes darted, his heart raced, and his breathing was shallow. As he looked up at Harper, any semblance of the Rory she had known was absent. He stood up and walked towards his room, opening the door for Harper and motioning inside. ”Tell me what you see,” he ordered, an unusual gravitas to his demeanor that was often lacking. It was his voice, but it didn't feel like his words.

The room was cleaner than he usually kept it, but kept with his usual chaotic disorganization. Sporting equipment had been haphazardly shoved under the bed. A pile of clothes in a laundry basket were relatively freshly washed, but still unfolded. The walls were decorated in pictures from his time in PRCU, along with wall adverts for various games and events he had been to that would usually hang on pin up boards around campus. Haven's clutter was mixed with his, some of her clothes and notebooks mixed in with his around the room. Rory stood in the doorway. He didn't want to disturb the scene more than he already had. He rubbed a soreness in his neck, watching Harper carefully.

Harper followed Rory into his room, her mind instinctively activating her ability the moment she stepped inside, as if it too sensed the urgency of the situation. Almost immediately, a sharp spike of pain shot through her head, causing her to wince and deactivate her powers. The sudden intensity of the pain was overwhelming, and she pressed her hand to her forehead, her vision blurring momentarily.

As panic threatened to rise within her, Harper did her best to stabilize her breathing and regain her composure. She focused intently on the rhythmic in-and-out of her breaths, willing herself to push through the discomfort that clouded her mind. Gradually, she felt the panic begin to recede, though the confusion still lingered, a stubborn fog that refused to lift. Nonetheless, she turned her head, waving the other off with a shaky hand. “I’m okay,” she said, more to reassure herself than Rory. The words felt hollow, but she clung to them, regardless, a joke forming on her lips. “Forgot to warm up,” she added with a weak smile, hoping a touch of humour might lighten the heavy atmosphere and ease the tension that gripped them both.

Harper's pain and confusion shook Rory from his stupor, his hand instinctively reaching up to settle on her shoulder and give it a light squeeze. His face, formerly devoid of feeling, was washed in concern. He hadn't checked in on her the past few days, and given what he had seen… it was cruel to have to involve her in anything so soon. Guilt welled up inside, before dissipating. Harper would have kicked the shit out of him if he didn't involve her immediately.

”Take your time, Hawkeye.” He flashed a weak smile, panic and fear plain as day behind the facade. He gave Harper's shoulder another squeeze, taking a step back. He hovered in the doorway, before he simply shook his head and took a step back towards her. ”If you need me to, I can do it for-”

Harper shook her head firmly, cutting him off mid-sentence.

“It’s fine. I’ve got this,” she insisted, determined to see this through herself. Taking a deep, calming breath, she reactivated her vision, this time bracing herself for the inevitable pain. She let it roll over her in waves, accepting it rather than fighting against it. As the discomfort surged through her, the room around her came into sharp focus, every detail crystal clear. The textures of the furniture, the subtle shifts in light, and even the faintest movement became vividly apparent.

Harper’s eyes moved to the window first, noting the subtle marks on the sill where the intruders had likely gained entry. The faint scratches and scuffs told a silent story of their stealthy approach. She followed the barely visible shoeprints that trailed from the window to the bed, where the sheets were rumpled and an indentation marked the spot where Haven had been sleeping. The scene painted a vivid picture of the intrusion. “There were three of them, I think, judging by both the quantity and differences in each print,” she described, pointing at the window. She then turned to meet Rory’s eyes, her gaze intense and unwavering. “They got in through the window.”

Something gave her pause then, Harper’s eyes immediately moving to her friend’s neck. A small, reddish mark stood out starkly against his skin—a needle mark, undoubtedly from a syringe filled with something to stop him from interfering. A sedative, perhaps? Or something else she would have to be concerned about? The possibilities were endless without seeing the chemical for herself. Either way, Rory seemed physically okay so far, at least. Still, she found her hands reaching up, tapping the mirrored spot on her own neck as if to check for a similar mark.

Although that was as likely as this entire thing being one very unfunny joke.

“They did something to you. Do you…feel anything?”

Rory reached up to rub the spot on his neck again, recalling a strange soreness. ”I… felt foggy when I woke up. Slept through a couple alarms I think.” He looked to the window, then the floor. Three people came in through his window… kept him knocked out and took Haven. This was a coordinated effort. A team.

Rory sighed. ”I'll let everyone know. You think you can get us a trail or something?

In answer to his question, Harper walked over to the window and glanced outside, her eyes meticulously scanning the sill and the surrounding area. Bent bushes and faint trails in the grass hinted at the intruders’ escape route, a subtle but telling sign of their hurried departure. She leaned out, following the path with her eyes as far as she could, piecing together the direction they had taken.

“I can see it,” she said, her voice tinged with a newfound determination. The feeling that she’d lost for a bit in her room came rushing back tenfold.

Hope.

Rory whipped out his cracked smartphone, pulling up the group chat. His message was short and simple. He didn’t care if this was a trap. He didn’t care if this was all part of the traitor’s plan. He had to try.

>Haven’s been kidnapped all hands Canis Dorms ASAP.<

To: Oops All Wilds (Team Blackjack)

With the text sent, Rory quickly yanked one of his duffel bags out from under his bed, tossing it onto the bed and shoving a spare set of clothes and a couple water bottles into the bag. He felt something roll into his foot, looking down to see an old baseball bat of his. He hesitated as he looked at it, before quickly reaching down and wrapping his fingers around the grip. He lifted it up into his hands, knuckles white as he gripped it tight. His face returned to its former blank expression. He tossed it into the duffel bag, zipped it up, and slung it over his shoulder as he slipped on some shoes and headed for the door.

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: Academic Quad, P.R.C.U. Campus - Dundas Island, Pacific Ocean}

Take on Me #3.035: Know Your Enemy

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_{Interaction(s): Mary Tyler}

Previously: Everything'll be alright, alright

"Hey, I got your text... what do you need, Rory?" Mary seemed surprised to see Rory in the library, let alone hunched over a laptop in a study room. He had a notebook open to a blank page, ready to take notes. More than any of that, though... there was a strange look in Rory's eyes that she couldn't quite place. He seemed... determined. Angry. Afraid.

"Right, uh... I..." He didn't know how to explain what he needed, what he was doing, or why he was doing it. Filling her in on his secret assignment seemed like a bad idea. But Mary knew him well enough to tell when he was lying. Middle path, then, was the best option. "I'm looking at some stuff from the Trials, and I was warned it wasn't going to be pleasant."

Mary raised an eyebrow, taking a seat at the small table across from him. She leaned forward, chin in her hands as a small and devilish grin formed on her face. "What, too scared to ask Kat-"

"No." Rory's response was quick, and instinctual. Mary pretended to be shocked, but they both knew she had effectively got under his skin. Rory shook his head. "Besides... a lot happened this weekend. Before it all went bad. I..." He hesitated. He didn't quite know what to call what he had going on. They never really put a word to it. Last thing he needed to do was rush it, so he'd have to settle for the next best answer. "Look, Katja's not interested."

"Her loss."

"Yeah, thanks." He rolled his eyes, catching a glimpse again of his laptop screen. A folder full of video files was there, waiting for him. Surely, there were other ways to root out a traitor.

But all other leads were, for the most part, dried up. And with Lorc out of commission, the team all on edge, and morale this low... he needed to narrow the suspects. Besides, it would only be a matter of time before the others found out what he was up to. If he could secure himself a head start before that happened, he'd be set.

"I should get started..."

Rory sat in front of his laptop, sliding on an old pair of headphones, and opening up the first video file.

---

It was hard watching someone break down. Mary was lucky she only had to see Rory break. Rory watched all nine. He had to pause frequently to wipe tears from his eyes, or to stand up and pace around the room. By the end, Rory just slammed the laptop lid closed and rested his head on the table. His notebook was filled with the names of everyone, some crossed out and then re-added and crossed out again. His head pounded in his skull, his chest and every muscle in his fiber felt heavier than they ever had before. If he had the energy, he would be angry. Seething. But after watching it all, he just felt tired. He wanted to go home.

Home.

Mary walked behind him, rubbing his back softly the same way he had when they were young. "It's over, Riri. It's over."

Rory shook his head, eyes screwed shut as he hid his face in his arms on the table. "No... not yet."

Mary paused her movement. He never let her get away with calling him that. She reached out towards the notebook next to Rory. He panicked, slamming his palm over the notes. He didn't look at Mary, but she got the message. She backed away, leaning against the wall and folding her arms as he shoved the notes into his bag. "It's about the Trials, isn't it? Don't tell me you're beating yourself up over-"

"They wanted to recruit me, Mary."

Silence followed for a moment. Neither of them knew how to talk about it... or him for that matter. Eventually, Mary walked back to her seat and silently sat down, watching him as he pulled the notes out again to clean them up.

There were a few individuals he was fairly confident couldn't possibly side with Hyperion's Children, especially after the footage. The thought of Banjo taking orders from anyone was laughable, especially not the maniacs worshipping the guy who put him in the hospital years ago. Calliope was unlikely... even if the actual shotgun to the leg wasn't real, the odds they would do that to their own was unlikely. Plus, Calliope was just as unlikely as Banjo to follow the beat of their own drum. Her and Banjo had arguments... but no argument would ever drive her to Hyperion. Last on the absolutely free and clear was Haven. He paused as he crossed her name off the list. He wanted it not to be her... but the simulation tried to kill her. The images of her were going to haunt him. Now that he knew what Katja's powers were capable of... borrowing her power before confronting the traitor might be best.

His pen hovered over Katja's name. She suffered more than some in the simulation. Carving into a wall of flesh with your bare hands didn't seem like the kind of thing Hyperion's children would be for. He had never asked Katja much about her past, but what little he could piece together made what he witnessed even worse. The simulation tormented her psychologically almost as much as Haven. It haunted her with her past. But the simulation mocked him too. Did everything it could to break and mold him. And it molded Katja. Katja broke in the simulation, and what he saw wouldn't leave his mind. She was one of two who were truly willing to kill. But kill wasn't the right word. Kill was what Amma did. Katja slaughtered.

Part of his mind settled on Katja's behavior before the Trials, at breakfast. She was off... but confrontational when pushed. Maybe, just maybe, she had known. Was that why she was off that morning?

If Katja was the traitor... would anyone be able to stop her from hurting the team?

Could he stop her from killing Haven?

Had she always been holding back?

Rory moved his pen away from her name. She wasn't his first suspect... but after what he witnessed, he wasn't sure he could trust her.

Rory looked down at Harper's name, sighing as he crossed her name off without much hesitation. Like Haven, the simulation seemed to revel in torturing her in ways he couldn't even imagine. He hadn't seen her the past few days... he felt bad for not noticing the fresh scars when they all got out. He didn't know she had a sister. He didn't know a lot of things about his friends. But he was certain, between the simulation and the way she clocked how Katja was off at breakfast, she couldn't betray the team like that. In the same breath, Rory crossed off Gil's name. He got it worse than Harper did, and his continued presence in the hospital to recover was a sign that he was a clear target to be taken out. The simulation tried to kill him as much as it tried to kill Haven, it seemed.

Rory put a question mark next to Amma's name. Part of him wanted to cross it off entirely, but he knew it would be irresponsible. She had hurt him. She also used that power to save Haven. He didn't understand their interaction fully, but he understood enough. She didn't only act in her own self-interest. For a moment, she was a team player. Of course, then she turned around and hurt him. He had felt what he could only imagine to be a fraction of her power. After having seen what had happened in the simulation, that was her at her weakest. Despite the healing, lines of skin on his arms still felt raw. But at the same time... it felt like there was something underneath her words and actions that were hesitant. He knew what it was like to play a part, and to wear a mask and hope no one noticed. Even when Amma attacked him, it didn't feel like her. He didn't know how else to put it. He couldn't cross her off, but he would be surprised if it was her.

He hesitated as he hung his pen over Aurora's name, before finally placing a question mark next to it. Aurora was attacked, surely. But the danger she faced was minimal compared to the others. If anything, it felt like the simulation was trying to groom her. The fear she expressed seemed real... but Rory was so jaded at this point her couldn't tell if it was just an act. She seemed to be in a position to say the right thing at the right time for her teammates... but she seemed more devastated at the thought of being abandoned than anyone else. She wasn't his top suspect.

Not when Lorcán was on the list. He, out of everyone, seemed to suffer the least. The scar was nasty, but the tone of how the simulation toyed with him was more theater than anything. Or, more accurately... it felt like how the simulation tried to groom Rory. Aurora was there to seduce him, the evil version of him had a cool name and a scar that it ended up passing on to the real him. It didn't hand him Hyperion's robes, but it might as well have. Compounded with his behavior in setting up for the Trials, his connection to Aurora, his weird vibes with Amma, and the fact he was willing to kill in the simulation. They weren't real, and even Hot Shot could tell that surely. But out of everyone, he was one of the most likely options on his list. Besides Rory, Lorcán was set up as the only other true heir to Hyperion. Him, Rory, Katja, and Amma.

The only person Rory knew wasn't a traitor was himself.

Rory hoped Tad was wrong. Based on the footage, it looked like he was.

Rory closed the notebook, his head pounding as he stood up and shoved everything into his bag. Mary had tried talking to him, but stopped when he wouldn't respond. She had never seen Rory like this. He wasn't just vacant or absent, not even cold.

When Mary looked into Rory's eyes, there wasn't any light in the bright blue eyes.

He looked dead.

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: Academic Quad, P.R.C.U. Campus - Dundas Island, Pacific Ocean}

Take on Me #3.023: Everything'll be alright, alright

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_{Interaction(s): Blackjack, Haven - @Skai, Aurora - @Melissa}

Previously: The Lying Man

It was a less than comfortable experience for Rory as the same strict rules that had once felt constricting were now eased. Though, maybe it was just seeing everyone run around in normal clothes during the school day reminded him of high school. As he walked towards the Academic Quad, he quickly scrolled through his phone. He still had a number of messages from classmates and teammates wishing him and the rest of Blackjack well that he had to work his way through responding. More people to lie to, just what he needed. He copy and pasted the same response, something simple about how he was fine and thanking them for their support. He couldn't even remember, and was acting more on auto-pilot than anything.

At least, until Rory's phone lit up with a text from Cassander Charon, another member of the Wolfpack. Cassander shared a house with both Rory and his cousin Lorcán in addition to a fondness for Hyperball. While he would describe Cassander as a friend, they didn't exactly communicate regularly so the message was unexpected.

>Hey, something happened to Lorcán, they've got him in the infirmary and under quarantine until further notice. Wanted to give you a heads up since I hear you're leading Blackjack now, just so you don't think he's skipping out on anything. Parents are with him, but they're not letting visitors in.<

From: Cassie

Rory nearly dropped his phone, fumbling it into the nearby grass as he panicked. His body, instinctively, froze up. He wanted to rush to his roommate's side to check in and make sure that he was ok. He wanted to ask a million questions. Part of him suspected this had something to do with Hyperion's Children... but a cooler mind prevailed. This had to be something different. If it was connected, Jim would keep him updated. If it wasn't connected... well, then that was another egg to toss in his overflowing basket.

As he began to type out a message into the Blackjack group chat, he saw a text from Haven pop up. He finished out his message to the others first, tapping send before switching over.

>Lorcán is in the infirmary under quarantine. I'm concerned like the rest of you, but we can't see him yet. I know it's tough, but make sure you go to your classes if you can. We'll organize trips to see him when he's medically cleared.<

>Calli, let Banjo know.<

To: Oops all Wilds (Team Blackjack)

>Lorcan's in the infirmary? I'll be there soon. go on in without me if you get there first. I'm sure he'll be ok Rory<

From: Wings

Rory swore under his breath as he caught a glimpse of the time. He jogged to class while typing out a response to Haven, nearly barreling through some first years in the process. He managed to hit send as he stumbled into class, getting an irritated look from the professor as he nodded an apology and made it to his seat.

>Quarantined. No visitors. Heading to class. U should 2.<

To: Wings

As he pulled out a notebook to take notes, he felt a small pit form in his stomach. Having to text the group like that, especially after everything they had been through, was more emotionally taxing than he had realized. A horrible realization, one he had logically reached before but had not felt quite yet, dawned on him.

He was the new Tad.

But even now, Rory had bigger priorities. The one thing he knew above anything else, was that there was at least one member of Blackjack who wouldn't have listened to his request when it came to Lorcán. They were practically inseparable, and not even Jim O'Neil himself could stop her if he wanted to. Rory slipped his phone out of his pocket, holding it in his lap as he shot off a quick text to Aurora.

>Keep me posted on Hot Shot. And let me know if you need anything after class.<

To: Red

He sighed as he tapped send and slipped the phone back into his pocket. His eyes turned back up towards the whiteboard, desperately trying to focus on Lacanian Psychoanalysis. But all he could think about was if Lorcán was ok.

Or, even worse... how would he feel if Lorcán turned out to be the traitor?

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

| A Few Days Earlier |

Rory waved goodnight to Lorcán, turning off the TV mid rewatch of whatever schlocky action film he could find to turn his brain off to. He stretched and rose to his feet from the communal couch, wandering into his room in just an old pair of shorts. He had left the window open, as he promised, and had shoved most of his sporting equipment under his bed and most of his dirty clothes onto the closet floor. He sat down on his bed before laying down, his legs and feet dangling off the side as the top of his head pressed against the wall. He did his best not to think too much, but as per usual failed even that simple task.

A day ago, his biggest worries were if any of his crushes liked him back. Now, his biggest worry was that he'd be attending several funerals in a week with one of his closest friends being affiliated with the murders. And here he was, alive and well. Groomed was the word Jim had used to describe Rory's experience. It was an apt description. Hyperion’s Children wanted him in their ranks… certainly just because he was the closest they would get to the power of Hyperion. Of course, Jim wanted to use him too. And who knew what the Foundation would have planned for him.

If they made Amma a Dragon, what would they make him?

He sighed loudly, looking up to the ceiling as he listened closely for the familiar sound of beating wings.

He didn’t have to wait long.

Outside the window, he heard them. Gusts of air billowed into the room as wings beat downwards on their approach from above. Her feet were first to land on the windowsill, clad in well-worn sneakers. Tanned fingers wrapped around the casing, gripping tightly as she nimbly swung her legs inwards to rest her thighs on the sill. Her legs were bare beyond the brown cotton bike shorts she wore. Feathers rustled together, the sound louder than usual due to their rough and patchy state, as she tucked her wings in behind her.

Her head leaned down and into the window, revealing her wet mess of hair from the shower she’d taken not long ago. As she laid eyes on Rory’s relaxed form she bore a small, apologetic smile. Her eyes glanced over his unscarred skin quickly. She needed to make sure that he really had been healed earlier in the day.

“I, uh… I fell asleep in a tree.” She leaned further into the window as she pulled herself inside. Her feet touched the ground at the same moment her wings followed her in through the window. She clutched the backpack strap where it hung on her shoulder as she stood to her full height, her eyes glancing over the room. It was the first time she’d seen it from the inside. Much like her room, it looked lived in. Rory had filled it with himself, even if the floors looked suspiciously cleaner than the last time she’d spotted it from the living room. She wondered where his sports equipment had been stowed before she turned to him.

Her shirt was a relic from her rogue days. An oversized tee with the words Rocky Mountain Summer Camp of ‘95 written in white over the dark green color. The neckline was stretched a bit, but otherwise there were no indications that it was as old as it told anyone who read it. The backpack she unslung from her shoulder, holding it by the sewn-on strap that indicated it had broken multiple times, was a faded dark blue with patches of multiple state parks sewn into the fabric haphazardly. She looked down at it, her hesitation obvious as she chewed on her bottom lip, before she stepped over to Rory and held it towards him. Her eyes met his again, wings shifting behind her to rest at a comfortable place on her back.

“It’s a… peace offering.” Her gaze was anxious, but determined. She hoped that he would understand its meaning, and that he would accept it for what it meant for the both of them. She’d debated telling him to throw it away for her, like she had planned to in that desperate moment, but she couldn’t bear to part with it. “Could you hold onto it for me? Until after graduation?”

Rory raised an eyebrow, shooting her a quizzical expression while sitting up on the edge of the bed. He reached for the strap, taking the backpack from her. It was light, seemingly empty. Was he supposed to open it and look inside? Something told him it wasn't that kind of peace offering.

The realization was sudden as he had set the bag down near the foot of the bed. The fake Mei had been right. A whirl of emotions enveloped him as he recoiled from the bag. He looked back to Haven, his brow furrowed as it took him a moment to put the pieces together. She had packed a bag, ready to leave at any moment. But she was bringing it here. For him to hold on to. Until graduation.

He gave a small nod in acknowledgement, nodding towards the bed next to him. He didn't have the words to express his emotions, but gave her a soft and weary smile. ”I'll keep it safe.”

Haven watched with apprehension as Rory simply set the bag down. He didn’t realize what it was. He didn’t remember what the simulation told him. She’d been fretting over it since it was mentioned to him, and he hadn’t paid it any more mind.

Yet it was obvious when he connected the dots. The way that he moved himself away from it so hastily had the muscles of her shoulders tensing. The look he gave her twisted her heart and left her stomach weightless. It felt like a rejection, and yet he still invited her to sit beside him. She hadn’t expected it to go this way at all. It could have been a fight. He could have been relieved. This, somehow, felt like she had already broken his heart.

Her own heart was heavy in her chest as she moved to the bed, her eyes flitting between the bag and the empty space beside Rory. She slowly pulled off her shoes before she climbed on top of the comforter. Her body turned to face him, legs criss-crossing as she took a moment to breathe and adjust her wings behind her. She wrung her hands together in her lap before she gathered the courage to speak.

“I don’t want to run away anymore. I thought this would prove it to you, that… that I’m not going anywhere. I didn’t mean to cause you any pain.” She tilted her head to the side so she could see the emotions on his face. She wished he would say something. Even if it was to send her away. “I’m sorry.”

Rory shook his head softly at Haven's words, a pained frown replacing his usual smile. He reached a hand over to slip into hers in her lap, giving a gentle squeeze as he met her gaze. ”You don't… I wasn't trying to…” He paused, his tongue rubbing his cheek as he tried to parse out how to respond. This wasn't how he wanted this to go. Empathy was the route, hopefully that would work.

”I get it. Why you would want to run. Especially since we hadn't…” He let the pause hang, filling in the gap. All the words he had felt too strong this early or too crude to describe the night they shared. But that wasn't the most important thing at that moment. ”I appreciate the offering. I just… with everything that happened, I kind of assumed it was a lie. Or hoped it was a lie. I'm used to getting left behind. This-” He motioned towards the bag with his free hand, his other hand giving another gentle squeeze to Haven's hand with the other. ”It… scared me a little, is all.”

“Rory, you’re… You’re one of the reasons I want to stay.” She brought his hand up to her lips and kissed his fingers where they intertwined. His openness had her yearning to be closer to him. To comfort his fears as it would comfort her own. She moved herself closer, until her knees brushed against his thigh and hip. She looked into his clear blues, searching for the words that would bear her heart to him without moving too quickly. “I haven’t felt this way before… about anyone. I don’t want to let this go.”

Rory gave Haven a soft smile as she got closer, moving the hand that was in her lap to support him as he leaned back slightly to make sure he could maintain eye contact with Haven comfortably. ”I know… Haven, I know. I trust you.” His smile darkened for a moment, as he began to process his own words.

Haven… it couldn't be Haven. Not after what she went through. Not with everything they shared. He had to trust her. Especially if there was no one else he could trust. He tapped his thumbs on the sheets as he weighed his options.

It wasn't fair to bring her into this. But she was clever. She'd find out he was up to something regardless.

”Look, Haven… Jim asked me to help out with the investigation into what happened at the Trials. He…” Rory paused, his eyes turning towards the opposite wall as he weighed his options. His eyes landed on a group photo of Blackjack sitting on his shelf: a posed picture from the end of the last semester. Tad had taken it for them.

Rory's fingers clutched at the sheets, knuckles white as he closed his eyes. If Tad was right… someone on the team had been responsible for all of this.

”He doesn't know who could be involved. Wants me to fill in for Tad while he recovers, and sit in on some meetings. I just… need to figure out if I can handle something like that.” Rory shook his head slightly, small tears welling in the corners of his eyes. He hated having to do it this way… but he couldn't let down Thaddeus when he finally needed Blackjack for a change.

The relief Haven felt as he admitted his trust lifted the weight off of her heart. Those three words, she realized, meant more to her than the others that had been on her mind. So when he pulled his hand away from her, she didn’t notice how he also pulled his emotions away with him.

She listened to him speak, her head tilting to the right as his words gathered in her mind. So this was what Jim was speaking of earlier. It seemed to weigh on Rory’s mind; enough that his stress was showing physically. Her own heart saddened as she thought of Tad as he lied in critical care. She couldn’t imagine how Jessica was feeling now.

Her fingers twitched in her lap, wanting to reach out to him, but something about his last words had her holding back. She couldn’t tell if he was talking about the investigation, or if he was talking about their newly budding feelings for each other. She didn’t want it to be the latter, and yet the tears that pricked at the corner of his eyes suggested it.

She heard the room beside Rory’s become quiet. Lorcán and Aurora seemed to have fallen asleep by now. She’d noticed her friend’s voice earlier, but she’d been too distracted to mention Lorcán had a visitor in the other room. The silence gave her a moment to think so that her heart didn’t immediately assume the worst.

“They didn’t… catch all of them?” She started slowly, her mind still too sluggish from the day to fully comprehend what he was saying. The implication that whoever had been behind the attack still remained free had her wanting to support Rory, or Jim and Tad, in any way she could.

“I think you should do whatever you can to help Jim… and I’m glad that he feels like he can rely on you to fill in while Tad recovers.” She offered him a small smile, even as a sad feeling kept the dimples in her cheeks from appearing with it. “I’m here if you need help. With anything.”

Of course she was too clever for him. Haven knew a little too much as it was then, and talking about the investigation further… Rory knew it was a ticking time bomb. But the thing he had been too numb and jaded to realize was the subtle undertones of fear. It was concerning that at least one member of Hyperion’s Children was walking free, and was close to them. Rory felt his heart-rate rise, if only for a moment, as the gravity of a traitor in their midst was finally settling in.

For now… the only thing he could do that would be honest was to offer comfort.

Rory offered a small nod of thanks, leaning his body over towards her. He lifted his arms up to hold Haven’s shoulders, giving them a squeeze as he locked eyes with her. ”No one is messing with you on my watch, Wings.” His face was serious, even if his tone was a touch more playful. He accentuated the point by leaning ever closer, planting a soft kiss on her forehead and wrapping her in a light hug. ”If I get in over my head, I’ll let you know.”

Rory’s promise, paired with her favorite nickname he’d given her, had her heart fluttering. She was relieved to know that he still had her back even if he was going to be distracted with his own path. She could already see the distance in his gaze as he looked at her, and it seemed like she’d need to gather all of the patience and courage she had to hold her feelings in until they were both ready to admit them.

The kiss to her forehead soothed her if only for a fleeting moment. Her eyes closed as he pulled her into the hug. She knew he’d do all he could to keep her safe. Even if it meant putting his own feelings on the sidelines until he saw fit to acknowledge them.

Yet as she thought of the promise he’d just made, the words of a certain red haired Foundation transfer crashed into her peaceful state like a bird into a clean window. She reluctantly withdrew from the hug, even though she desperately craved to be held and comforted further. What she was about to say was best said face to face. It would only add more to his mental load, but she wanted to make sure he understood her. Her hands wrapped around one of his, her eyes as cloudy as a stormy day.

“I think I have more to worry about than Hyperion’s children, Rory.” Her voice was low, as if she feared they were listening in. She looked down at their hands, her thumb tracing his knuckles. Pieces of her drying hair fell around her face to shroud the contours of her round cheeks. “Before the trial… Alyssa told me that some of the Foundation students just went missing over time. Like they just disappeared. Students like me, who-”

Her breath hitched as she found it hard to utter the words

“- Who they call sub-class.” She still couldn't look him in the eyes. It was hard to also put this burden on his shoulders, but he needed to know about it. Just in case... “If I disappear too… I want you to know that I didn’t run away. That they might have something to do with it.”

Of all the things Rory felt, seething rage was the most pronounced at Haven's warning. Sorrow and concern were also present… but the adrenaline of the day paved a road for anger to be most pronounced. Part of him wanted to get up and find Torres that instant, and fight his way through all the Foundation Force to get to her. His nostrils flared, and his jaw tightened. His voice, too, was low. But his tone was more vicious than fearful. ”They would be making a royal mistake if they tried that here, Haven.”

He paused, taking a breath before just shaking his head and trying to let the anger dissipate. He traced a thumb along the back of her hand, treasuring the feeling of connection. The awful feelings seeped down into his chest, his shoulders slumping a little under invisible weight. ”This year isn't starting how I wanted it to.”

The tone of voice immediately gave Haven the courage to look into his eyes. Her eyes cast upwards, chills running down her spine and through her wings to the tip of her primaries as she saw the subtle rage within his expression. She was surprised that he felt so passionately about it, considering the power that the Foundation had over them. Compared to it and its people in power, she felt like a sparrow in a world of vultures.

Rory on the other hand, with his ability allowing him to even the playing field so easily with will alone, stood a chance against it. She didn’t expect him to do it in her name, and yet knowing that he’d threaten such an organization just for her filled her heart to the brim.

Reality seeped in sooner than she would have liked, and she found her wings and shoulders slumping as he did the same. Would there be anything left of her to save by the time he found her?

“At least we have each other… and the team. I don’t think I’d be able to do it without you.” She meant it with her entire soul and body. Her thumb rest over his, stilling his movements momentarily. “Do you want to just… lay together until we sleep? I just want to be close to you.”

Rory nodded quietly. He didn't have the energy or desire for anything more than that... and barely had the energy for words at this point. He stretched himself out, lying down next to Haven and settling himself in.

The only thing he wanted, in that moment, was to stop feeling alone.

^{________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

_{Location: Canis Dormitory, P.R.C.U. Campus - Dundas Island, Pacific Ocean}

Take on Me #3.017: The Lying Man

^{_{____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}}

_{Interaction(s): Haven - @Skai, Jim O'Neil - @Lord Wraith}

Previously: Dragon

After all this time, and Rory Tyler still couldn't quite get the knot in his tie neat. It was a little crooked, and was pulled a bit too tight. He somehow had a way of screwing up even a simple Four-in-Hand knot. But, given he had finally gotten the length right on the third attempt, he'd settle for it. Rory looked himself over in the mirror: he had opted for the school uniform, minus the blazer. He had heard the mumblings about the dress code, the announcements, and even he could tell this had something to do with the recent "audit" by the Foundation. It was a small rebellion, if it could be called that, to stick with the dress code as much as possible. Of course, he kept his sleeves rolled up on his shirt: he needed a bit of comfort, after all.

Rory looked about the room, sighing as he tossed a hastily discarded set of boxers into a pop-up mesh hamper near the door. It was overflowing, a combination of mostly his clothes... though he recognized a shirt or two of hers mixed in. In better circumstances, he would be overflowing with emotions he wouldn't even be able to name. But in this moment, he just felt a little cold. Haven had gone back to her dorm to change and get ready. His small room somehow felt large without her presence hogging up the bed.

Rory closed the window to his room, grabbed his backpack, and a water bottle, and began his hike across campus. Classes didn't start for a bit, but he had a pit stop to make on the way.

---

Rory took a deep sigh as he stood in front of the Administration Building. He felt an impending dread rising into his throat as he approached. He had been here a number of times, mostly to help out his Aunt. But here, he couldn't help but feel like he was betraying his friends. At the same time, he knew this was the only way he could protect them.

So, he took the plunge.

Rory knew his way to Jim's office well, giving a small nod to any faculty and staff he passed. He had his usual bright smile plastered on his face like a shield... or a mask.

He gave a couple quick knocks at Jim's office door. "O'Neil... it's Rory. I'm here about the, uh-" Rory stretched out the pause, trying to find some clever cover story. Drawing a blank, he settled for vague. "The thing."

"Enter." Jim replied waiting for the door to open before beckoning Rory to take a seat in front of his desk. Looking over his reading glasses at Rory while the young man took a seat, Jim put down the pen held in his mechanical hand. While most of the school had switched to digital technology, there was still something about the feel and smell of ink on paper that Jim preferred.

"I suppose y'all have made a decision then?" He asked, leaning back in the tall leather chair he occupied.

"I did." Rory sat down in the chair, his hands resting on his knees as his thumbs tapped nervously to a rhythm neither of them could hear. "I don't like it. I don't want to do this. I don't even know if I believe one of us could side with Hyperion after the shit he did to us. But I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I didn't check this out. I'm willing to take the lead on this... and fill in for Tad." While his hands betrayed his nervous demeanor, the rest of his body sat straight in his chair. His voice was unwavering.

Of course, something bugged him. "Did Tad explain why he thought someone in Blackjack might have been involved with Hyperion's Children?"

"He didn't have time," Jim replied, "Unfortunately by the time I was aware of what Thaddeus was looking into, he was already in the state in which he remains," The older man took a long pause. "House Orcinus, the Hyperion's Children cell that was operating here on Pacific Royal, had a code phrase for greeting each other. 'The winds are blowing', which would then be responded by someone in the know with 'But the surface is still.' What we do know at this time, is before he was injured, Thaddeus was testing the validity of that passphrase."

"Ms. Rivers has tried to look into his mind and his memories to see where he had heard it, but all we've been able to confirm was that it was during the construction of the Trial and with Robert Arkwright present. Unfortunately, the identity of the Blackjack member is skewed in Thaddeus' mind currently," Jim continued to explain, "Robert Arkwright is in the wind as it currently stands, so I'm 'fraid that's where the trail goes cold. It would appear that Michael Tableau at least had the foresight to keep members' identities hidden from one another. Interrogation of those apprehended also hasn't turned up any leads. Which is why we need y'all, they clearly thought they could make an ally of y'all." Jim stifled a chuckle.

"Cahors I'd get, y'all however, I know y'all Rory. Y'all are good people, not the kind Hyperion typically targeted. The only thing I can think of is they wanted y'all for your abilities, a sort of figurehead to usher in as the new Hyperion."

"Right... so our best lead is a ghost in the breeze..." Rory sighed, his face grave as he folded his arms and furrowed his brow. The fact that Jim also had a feeling that Orcinus was trying to recruit him and make him a figurehead sent chills down his spine. The thought had crossed his mind in the simulation: his "tests" seemed geared for a particular outcome. Compared to what Haven went through, and what little he had heard of the others... he had gotten off easy. After all, Amma had seemed properly broken when she-

"Wait... they were trying to win me over in the simulation. Were we able to record footage or data on what everyone went through in the simulation? Were the techs monitoring us the whole time?" Rory leaned forward in his seat, hands gripping the arm rests tightly as he dialed in fully.

"Yeah, the entire simulation was monitored, we cut the broadcast to the campus but we have it." Jim replied, "Techs have signed a confidentiality agreement, but I can get y'all access if there's something y'all think would be helpful. I warn ye, a lot of it is hard on the stomach. Y'all may want someone with you before watching Miss Barnes' experiences."

Rory gave a nod, his knuckles white on the armchair, before he released his grip and sat with his back to the chair. "Yeah... I don't even know if it'll turn anything up. It's just a theory... a rough idea."

Rory took a deep breath, before finally approaching the more dreaded subject. "As for filling in for Tad... what do you need from me, coach?"

"In essence it's an administrative role, y'all are adults now so there's a lot of less of corralling the team. You'd be responsible for managing morale, ensuring everyone is staying atop of their school work and that their needs are met. Essentially y'll would be acting as their agent of success. If this was a freshman class, y'all be in charge of making sure they were fed and had their naps but Blackjack is on the verge of being kicked out of the nest." Jim explained, "Thaddeus was looking forward to a hands-off year. They're old enough now that y'all shouldn't have to worry about keeping them alive. On task and focused, well y'all know them even better than I do." Jim offered a knowing but sympathetic smile.

Rory let go a small sigh of relief. Administrative work wasn't too bad. Boosting morale would take more out of him emotionally than nor al, but it was doable. "Keep everyone on track... I can do that." He slowly rose to his feet, giving Jim a playful two finger salute. "Roger that, chief... I'll give it my best."

"I know y'all will make me proud," Jim replied, beckoning Rory goodbye, "Don't let me take anymore of y'all time. Y'all know where to find me if you need anything."

Rory gave a nod as he left, a cold feeling in his chest. Going into this year, he finally felt like he understood and belonged somewhere. He felt like he had a family that cared for him and that he could be honest and open with. Now, he just had to find someone else like him.

He had to find a liar.

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

Alright losers, we're back again for another Webby Awards, brought to you by Tito's and Coke. What another absolute nightmare wonderful Chapter we've just finished! As a prelude to the main awards, I was peer pressured into giving you all compliments again, so here we go. I apologize in advance for the drop in quality.

To jump straight into the awards for Chapter 2, we're gonna start off with a personal favorite that touches my heart. I am a big action fan. I like explosions, fast cars, and one-liners. I am also a fan of more brutal, gritty, borderline body horror action. I like everything from Fast and the Furious franchise to the sort of gritty tension of a Green Room. So, it should come as no surprise that I loved the action that came from the posts involving Katja Kruger written by @Zoldyck. Best action, very gritty and disgusting. I love me some good brawling. Between the sort of chase sequence to Katja's beatdowns, there was plenty of straight up action this chapter to keep my little lizard brain sated. Brilliant work.

What I love almost as much as action is good, old-fashioned, horrible family dynamics. It makes my skin crawl, reminds me a little too much about my childhood, and raises my blood pressure. I can comfortably say @PatientBean batted this award out of the park, namely Favorite Family Trauma. I hate, truly and visciously hate, Calliope's family dynamic. I grew pretty desensitized to most of the trauma posting this chapter by the time we got to the end of it, but the post revolving around Calliope and her family still boils my blood to even think about. That is great writing, honestly. It takes good writing to rile me up like that. Bravo.

While we're in the neighborhood, I have to give it up to @Hound55 and @PatientBean for writing perhaps my favorite wholesome moment I've seen on RPG in ages. Calliope and Banjo reuniting in the simulation, and their little jokes and banter despite the horrific treatment they'd undergone in the Trials... chef's kiss, honestly. Candy is slept on far too much, but this single moment cemented that their relationship works well because of the complexity of the characters and just the way their individual weird shapes align perfectly. Great work, both of you.

Speaking of Wholesome, Aurora Mitchell as written by @Melissa managed to once again secure what I am now referring to as the Best Bean award. Every single Aurora post had me emotional, angry, and upset that anything bad was happening to her. Mel does a wonderful job of making Aurora's feelings so visceral and clear that I can directly empathize with her in any given scene. I think a lot of writers would struggle to hit the same emotional notes during Aurora's tumultuous journey in this Chapter. Well done.

Keeping on a positive streak, I want to commend @Lord Wraith for the Best usage of AR technology in his posts. Lorcán's arc this chapter was a bit more on the comedic side, but I really liked it. I come from a more TV/Film background when it comes to writing, and the posts in this chapter felt the most cinematic from you. I mean, I also know some of the stuff you were setting up for individual posts and for my Rory posts, and it was all brilliant camera work (so to speak). I liked the visuals you worked on this chapter.

Speeding right along, the other most cinematic/TV moment came I can think of came from @Skai. Cliffhangers are an art form. What makes a cliffhanger even better is when it leaves you speechless, you are so certain that a certain outcome is going to happen, and then the ripcord is pulled out from under you and you are delighted to discover an awful fate was not met for a beloved character. I straight up gasped at work when I skimmed the Harper and Haven collab posts to discover Haven was not, in fact, in a coma and/or dead from the simulation pulling off her neural link. My words are less coherent here... but that was definitely the Best Plot Twist of this chapter.

Now, as we near the last few awards, I want to give a brief round of applause to @Roman for coming in swinging late in the chapter. I am giving him the Best Self-Defeating Character award because it's a good pun and this is my awards show. In all seriousness, the Gil posts were absolutely bone-chilling in ways I can't quite describe. A lot of the horror and trauma in most of this chapter delved deep into character history... but there was something about the specific horror that Gil went through that really shook me in an interesting way. And I think that's mostly because of the horror of Gil's powers, but also just who he is as a character. Faceless Gil is a terrifying thought, I hate it, screw you for making me think it. I also love what little glimpse we've gotten of Gil at the start of Chapter 3 that stems from what he went through in the Trials.

Now... as much as Gil's hell was uncomfortable, there is one person who managed to write a post that made me so uncomfortable it took me four times to actually sit down and read the post. The award for Most Uncomfortable I've Been Reading a Post, of course, goes to @Qia for the shit you pulled in The Cat Gets the Tongue. It's a great post, but I think the horror revolving around body image and the specific, small body horror of having someone fuck with your hair and scar you and that person being your sister that really bothered me. Not in like an actual discomfort, or something I'm upset about. It was just very visceral and specific in a way that struck me out of nowhere. It is a very well written post, in my top 3 for this Chapter, and it shows very strong talent.

Last, and certainly far from least, comes my final award. You see, this chapter focused a lot on the darkest versions of our characters. Anti-Rory was brilliantly written by Wraith, there were some very fun dopplegangers of family, friends, and loved ones... but above all, a single doppleganger stands out for one specific reason: it was very hard to tell they were a doppleganger, and I am left with so many more questions than answers. @Rockette easily wins the award for Favorite Doppleganger, which is going to be my shadow Favorite Character award for this chapter. I think the post with Amma fighting herself in the simulation was brilliant, dramatic, and poetic. I also get more and more confused on who or what Amma is the farther we get into this RP, and I absolutely love it.

Anyways... well, that's it. I don't think I missed anyone. Please feel free to post your own superlatives/awards down in the comments, ring that bell or whatever... I'm going to get some rest.

I love you all, see you at the end of Chapter 3.

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

^{________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

_{Location: The Matrix - Dundas Island, Pacific Ocean}

Hope in Hell #2.058: Dragon

^{_{____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}}

_{Interaction(s): Himself}

Previously: Nothing Left to Give

Rory crashed into the wall of the hallway as he desperately flung himself forward in the hopes of finding any of his teammates alive. This was all a game… no, a test? That had to be it, if they wanted him to wear this getup. The halls were once again white, sterile, and empty. He immediately rushed left, sprinting with all the strength and speed he had honed while keeping his eyes up and scanning for any sign of… well, anyone, at this point. The hallway was unnaturally straight and long, with a single door swinging open near the end. Rory’s eyes focused in as he sprinted for it, sliding to a stop in front of it as he propped his arms up into the doorway to catch himself. His panting was loud and borderline feral, his shoulders hunched forward in anticipation of danger. The mask gleamed in the light, save for the single smear of blood near the eyes and the greek symbol emblazoned on the forehead.

It's a room not unlike a cell: cloaked in shadow with soft featherings of light bidden by the slivers in each panel of steel that reveal the darkness of the ocean yonder their constraints. Teasing glimpses of life in the deep void that mankind has barely trekked, therein lurked something better suited to the title of the unknown.

The misunderstood, the being that clamored through life as the harbinger of pain and rage.

Amma.

She had been fitted in cumbersome chains, looped around her delicate throat and more woven around her wrists and slight frame, the AR suit doing little to conceal her modesty where she had been attacked and beaten, the blemish of a vicious cut down her front now blackened and red, an angry swell of power that churned at her breast and lapped at the edges of reality. The world summoned to her anguish and the HZEs frothed with madness with silver flares of softened light coiling betwixt her and him.

Her lashes fluttered, eyes beholden to that gleaming mask defiled by blood, her lips peeled back over gleaming teeth awash in hated red as she moved, fingers arched as she crawled forward liken to a chained beast.

"Who are you." It was not an inquiry bated in confusion, but rather a demand, her usual cadence deepened into a feral husk of a whisper.

Rory remained silent for the moment as he stood his ground, one hand slipping into his robe to reach for the folded metal ball he had held on to. It was the closest facsimile he had to a weapon. His blue eyes remained fixed on Amma, trying desperately to scan her expression and appearance for any way to test if it was truly her. Of course, he had nothing to base his analysis on. She wasn’t brooding and quippy… but given her situation, he couldn’t exactly put it past her to be more prone to rage and intimidation. But Rory straightened his back as he looked down, slipping the metal ball out of his pocket and into his hand underneath his flowing robes.

“Rory,” he answered simply. His voice was still shaking from the adrenaline, and filled with a twinge of hesitation. “Are you… real?” His eyes remained open and unblinking as he watched her carefully. He could practically feel the buzzing energy of HZEs swarming. He hadn’t felt that from the simulation itself before… but the simulation had never tried to kill him and psychologically torture him before either. He didn’t understand the rules anymore, and instead opted to loom in the doorway. “You need to tell me if you’re real, Annabelle. I’m getting real sick of seeing fakes of us.”

“Rory…” She uttered, his name rolling through her lips and tongue, sliding off from the pout of her lip on a hiss of recognition. “Tyler.” Through the gloom her eyes tracked down his figure concealed by the robes, every flicker of lash peering deep, slow increments of her constricted pupils that speared through the entirety of his frame shadowed against the entryway.

“So, you wear a mask too.” Amma lurked, hands and knees, crawling and inching closer and closer with links of chain rattling in the dark. “Tears of blood, mark of Who, I wonder.” Her whispers purred away into shadow, broken and bleeding remarks shattered, her face and body warped and broken and bound. She finally stood to her full height, revealing the violence she had endured.

“Real. No.” Her head canted, black strands pooling over her blemished shoulders marked by the defiler whose talons had embedded deep. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Annabelle - another name to add to my flesh, another for the epitaph.” She holds up her inked and scarred hand, fingers splayed, and counts them down. “Five names, five summons, five meanings.”

She approached Rory carefully until the chains snapped and pulled taut, preventing her from moving any further, and there her eyes churned and wept, black marred down her cheeks and distinct against the bruises slowly beginning to darken and warp.

“What is your role to play here? Are you the knight to come put down the dragon? Do you come to me, now, to seek revenge for those I took away from you? Lorcán,” Amma purred around his name, lips pulled into a sliver of a smile. “Katja.. Maybe I’ll take Haven too. She wants so desperately to know me- asks so many questions.”

“Gil,” she breathed, lashes fanned low, lost in sudden memorium. “Harper. Aurora. Calli. Banjo.”

Everyone.

---

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: The Matrix - Dundas Island, Pacific Ocean}

Hope in Hell #2.042: You're No Good

^{_{____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}}

_{Interaction(s): Himself}

Previously: Nothing Left to Give

“Very good Rory, but there's more.”

Rory felt his blood run cold, turning from his own slumped figure and looking back towards where the table and chair once stood. He was met again with a dark void. He could feel his body feeling less stable, like he was on the verge of falling apart. Time was just about up. He looked to the gun, still feeling cold steel in his hands, and used his remaining time to crush the firearm in on itself. He pressed his hands together, the steel giving way and folding itself into a rough ball.

“What makes Rory Tyler tick? It’s not family.” Two gunshots echoed behind Rory from where his siblings had just been.

Rory felt his body rearrange himself. He felt lighter, falling to his knees. This wasn’t real. They weren’t real. He had to keep playing. He had to-

“Hopefully it’s not friendship.” The voice laughed viciously as a hologram of Lorcán electrocuting the doppelganger Rory played in front of the real man.

Rory’s eyes were locked on the hologram, it’s cold glow washing over his face and burning the image into his eyes. Lorcán’s expression was new… practically twisted. Rory couldn’t pull himself to look away. He swayed slightly, his nerves and sense of balance fried as his nervous system went into shock.

“Could it be a rivalry?” The voice asked again, the hologram showing Katja now covered in the blood and bodies of her parents.

Rory dropped a hand to the ground to steady himself, looking away once he registered what he was seeing. This was the game. Hurt them, push them to the brink. This was personal. He could tell that much. The why didn’t make sense. Who had they possibly pissed off? Why were they going after Blackjack? This couldn’t be-

“Or love?”

No no no no _{no no no no}

The winged girl on the table being ripped apart played in front of Rory, her screams originally foreign before Haven’s cries and protests were mixed in and eventually overwhelmed the recording.

Rory threw up.

His head throbbed, his fists clenched tight. His fingernails on his left hand dug into his skin until small beads of crimson dripped down the length of his palms. His mouth stung with the taste of bile, his head swimming. He couldn’t think, every fiber of his being desperate to move but his body proved uncooperative. He had to find her. He was tired of playing games. He shoved the metal ball into a pocket in his suit.

“Do you crave power? Recognition? Perhaps you want people to stop overlooking you?”

Rory shakily stood up, only to find himself on a small pedestal. In front of him was Blackjack, each member bound, gagged and a noose around their neck while they stood on a trap door. “Choose one to save, condemn the rest,” the voice instructed. A wheezing laughter filled the room. “Or open the pedestal and save them all, save us all.”

Rory’s gaze immediately locked with the winged figure in a hood. Tears streamed down his face. It wasn’t a choice. He fell forward, off the pedestal, and connected with the hard ground. His hands had barely cushioned his fall as he landed on his side. The throbbing pain was muddled as he pulled himself up into a sitting position, looking up towards his real family. This wasn’t a choice. Not for Rory, at least. He pushed himself onto his feet, a hand catching the pedestal for balance, as he positioned himself over it. He cautiously lifted the lid, only to be greeted by a pair of neatly folded black robes. Atop them sat a smiling mask, its forehead marked with the letter ‘Upsilon.'

Him.

It always came back to him.

Rory’s eyes studied the mask for a moment, as he could feel his vision righting itself. He looked up for a moment as his right hand lifted the mask into his bloodied left hand. His breathing was uneven, as he remembered the words from years ago. If he stood by his side, he could have anything. He felt the inside of the mask with his right hand, checking for anything toxic or sticky, before setting it aside and sliding on the robes. His left hand cradled the front of the mask, sliding it on over his head and leaving a bloody smear on the front. He lifted his hands, standing up taller as he wore Hyperion’s outfit. He looked up, towards the ceiling. He screamed, “You’ve made your point! You win! I’m in… You can have me. Killing them doesn’t help any of us.”

"I'm glad you finally saw reason," A voice said from behind Rory as he was greeted by a blonde woman dressed in a shimmering gown. She towered over him, her chest at his eye level while long, blonde hair spilled over her shoulders. ”We can finally be together, we can be stronger together."

“We all can," Another female voice piped up as a familiar pair of wings dragged themselves along Rory's back flirtatiously before a third woman dropped from the ceiling, adjusting her black hair before smiling at Rory.

“As Hyperion, you can have anything or anyone you want." Mei sang sweetly to Rory, “Who are we to reject the savior of all Hyperhumans?"

“But we're not safe yet," The winged woman whispered in Rory's ear, “Interlopers masquerading as our friends still run in this maze. We need to stop them." She paused, the three women simultaneously turning to reveal a door. "Please, Hyperion, your utopia must come true. You need to stop the interlopers."

The tall blonde smiled wickedly, stating one last thing. “Starting with the interloper from the Foundation."

Rory turned his gaze back towards the three women… or rather, the cheap simulations. His mind was still recovering from its fog, but even disoriented he knew when he was being underestimated yet again. This is what they thought he wanted. But he steeled his jaw. He knew where he could find at least one of his teammates now. After that, he could improvise.

He quickly moved through the door, running with urgency as he looked for someone... anyone, really. It sounded like they were leading him towards Amma. She definitely wasn't his preferred ally in this… but at this point, he'd settle for even Tad.

"Do not fail us, Hyperion." The chorus of women called after Rory, "We'd hate to think of the consequences of a deceiver in place of a leader."

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: The Matrix - Dundas Island, Pacific Ocean}

Hope in Hell #2.029: Nothing Left to Give

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_{Interaction(s): Himself}

Previously: Rocket Man

As smoke burned his lungs, his new partner fought a creepy clone of another of his crushes, and his teammate screamed below him, Rory's eyes shifted down the towards the other side of the room that was farthest from the chaos. The metal grates creaked and groaned underneath his newfound mass. He didn't want to leave his team, but he wasn't going to be much use if he was charred or dead.

Rory pushed off with a powerful leap, bounding along the spots most supported by steel beams as he ran for his best approximation of an exit. He needed a way out, his stinging eyes full of tears and head pounding from the smoke.

As he continued to fight and push through the smoke, Rory stumbled into a new room. The air cleared, his breathing returning to normal before finding himself in a dark, empty room illuminated by a sole light hanging above a round table. The light reflected off something metallic as Rory's eyes wandered toward the object immediately recognizing it as his father's service weapon. He took a few steps towards the gun, feeling the familiar weight and coldness of the grip. He instinctively removed the magazine, seeing only the single bullet loaded. He set the mag down for a moment so he could pull back the slide, checking that it was empty. One bullet.

The sound of three lights snapping on illuminated the bodies of three more young adults, each with a sack over their head obscuring their identities but their muffled voices were familiar. Rory's heart jumped into his throat, his hands dropping the gun back onto the table as he started to run towards the figures. He knew it wasn't real... but there were parts of the brain he couldn't shut off. He stopped himself mid- sprint, rolling back onto his heels as his feet came close to a ledge. A chasm separated Rory from the figures.

Two were male, one was female.

"Choose one to die."

The haunting chorus returned, its whispers seemingly coming from all around Rory.

Rory looked back towards the metal table, his breathing more ragged as he felt his blood pressure rise. He shouldn't have left Haven alone. He should have helped Katja up. He should have known they were in danger immediately. He should have stopped Amma from running. He should-

NO... in through your nose, out through your mouth. This isn't real...

Rory took a few steps from the ledge, taking deep breaths as he stepped away from the chasm. He ignored the muffled pleas. They were just code anyways.

Ok... stop. Whoever hacked this is fucking with you. They could have just crushed us flat or fucked with the neural stuff... Saw rules... you play the game, you survive, right? Rory looked up to the sky for a timer. No timer... maybe it wasn't saw rules.

"Choose one to die."

The chorus of whispers was sickening, but Rory shuffled over to the table nonetheless. Firing a gun was one of the few things Cole had ever felt worthy of his time to pass on. A miserable attempt at a legacy. His hands felt natural sliding the magazine in, pulling back the slide to prime the last round. He cocked back the hammer with his thumb as he held the gun in both hands, left hand cradling his right.

His eyes glazed back over the three figures. He recognized the two on the ends by their outfits alone. They were always so bad at folding their own laundry. He tuned out their voices as he continued taking deep breaths. The middle one looked... wrong. He didn't look good in a suit. It seemed too constricting on him. Rory stepped up a few feet from the ledge, barrel of the gun aimed towards the ground in front of him. He paused as he looked between the three figures.

"Choose one to die."

Rory's mouth felt dry. It wasn't a choice. Not for him. It didn't matter if this was fake or real. He was their big brother, and a big brother would do anything for his siblings.

Even if it meant sacrifice.

Rory raised the gun towards the middle figure. He closed one eye, steadying his hands. He took a breath in through his nose, and then let the air seep out through his mouth as his finger squeezed the trigger.

Bang.

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

| A Few Years Earlier |

Rory rested on the benches in the stadium, watching the Chimeras playing a Hyperball scrimmage match against each other. He was sipping on his hyper-aid, having overdone it earlier in the match. He tried his best to sit up straight, the wooziness of intoxication wearing off. His eyes remained trained on the upper goals, keeping a close eye on the defenders and strikers vying for a spot in the air. He looked down periodically at a set of index cards resting on his lap, sorting through his fellow athletes. He could always copy a flying ability, sure. But training them for a prolonged period was dangerous. And it left him open and vulnerable to those more skilled at flight than he was. The lack of vertical game was going to be a problem, both here and in the ARC.

Rory switched over to his index cards covering some of the first folks he met. Lorcán... Hot Shot. A jet of flame to launch him up could work. He'd have to keep that on the short list. Haven... wings. The body horror of that was enough to send a chill down Rory's spine. She made them look good, but they were not his vibe. She made them look-

Rory's eyes shifted up to look back at the field, to another one of the younger members on the Hyperball team. She cocked back the ball and launched it nearly halfway down the field, and into the clear and open goal. It was an impressive shot, and a remarkable show of muscle. Rory looked back down at his notes. Another one of the folks he met early on... Katja Kruger. Density Manipulation. He looked back to see Katja lift up another teammate in a bear hug during a wave of congratulations, and watched as she tossed the teammate up into the air slightly with ease before catching her again.

Wait a second...

Rory stood up, making his way towards the rest of the team after downing his hyper-aid. He scooped up his index cards, shoving them into his pocket as he jogged towards Katja to catch her before she got back to the locker room. "Kruger! I've got a new play idea... I call it the-"

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_{Location: The Matrix - Dundas Island, Pacific Ocean}

Hope in Hell #2.018: Rocket Man

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_{Interaction(s): Haven - @Skai, Katja - @Zoldyck, Doppelgangers - @Lord Wraith}

Previously: I Want to Run and Hide

As soon as the lights turned off, and Haven’s hand squeezed his with every ounce of strength she seemed to have, the absolute gravity of the situation dawned on him. In his defense… alternate versions of themselves as opponents? It felt like something that Blackjack would do: pit new Pacific Royal students against a simulation of senior hotshots. It was safer to assume Haven, Calli, and Amma were overreacting. It was becoming clear that this wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t the simulation that was programmed by Pacific Royal. The specific implications were lost on him, but he took the moment to squeeze Haven’s hand back. As his environment changed, Rory instinctively tried to take a step forward. The unexpected resistance from the tar-like substance drew his eyes down. The walls, the ceiling… everything on initial view screamed action set-piece.

“Hey, bro.”

Rory raised his gaze up towards the metal-grated ceiling, eyeing a pair of boots. He could see, faintly, the mop of orange hair and practically glowing eyes peering out from the dark figure. Rory’s mind raced at a million miles a second. How did Lorcán get all the way up there so quick? And where was everyone else?

“Run.”

The jet flames, the sudden heat, everything… it was enough to kick Rory into full gear. He eyed the grates above, the dark corridor in front of them, and then looked towards Haven and Katja. There wasn’t a lot of vertical space… and he knew they weren’t going to be able to run faster than the flames. Split second, though, Rory saw Katja’s eyes meet his. The grin on her face told him enough. Vertical was the way to go… and there was only one way Rory was getting up there. His gaze then shifted to Haven, who had a death grip on his hand. His words had a surprising confidence to them, a decisiveness reserved only for when he was on the field. Simulations would have to qualify for now. ”I’ll make a path… follow me up.”

Rory quickly pulled his hand away from Haven. He took a step next to Katja, immediately squatted and lifted his arms to protect his head.

Katja looked over at Haven for a second as Rory got into position. “Don’t worry about it Valkie, he’ll be fine. As will I. I’ll scale the walls to come after you guys. All you’ve gotta do is stay close to him and back him up, no matter what happens. But I think you’ve got that sorted already.” She gave a playful wink before finally turning to the pressing matter at hand.

Katja reached down to grab Rory by the collar of his A.R. suit. Picking him up with ease, as he felt about as heavy to her as a Hyperball would for an ordinary person. Katja then steadied herself as she stretched her free arm out in front of her, using her hand to estimate the distance between herself and the endzone. That being the exact spot anti-Lorcán’s boots were located on the overpass above.

Closing her fist as if to mark her target, Katja pulled her free arm down to generate just that extra bit of momentum for the one that held Rory as she used all the strength she deemed necessary to get him where he needed to go without risking him going into any of the dangerous machinery above. “Now!” She barked out as she executed the move that she and Rory had rehearsed so many times, tossing him up in the air with a throw that would’ve been the envy of many quarterbacks.

The surge always felt… unnatural. Warm. Alien. He could practically feel the space between muscle fibers knotting themselves together. He felt the weight of gravity pulling on him more than usual second by second. On the outside, he didn’t appear much different. Especially not as he had left Katja’s grip and hurdled through the air like a missile. Internally, despite the horror of the situation, there was a rush. The adrenaline that coursed through his system was a byproduct of his power. As much as he hated the aftermath, the endorphins made using his powers was intoxicating in its own ways.

Harder.

He kept his muscles straining, tightening the bonds between the muscles in his arms and shoulders and neck as he rocketed up towards the grate ceiling where the anti-Lorcán stood. As soon as he felt hard contact against his back, Rory lifted his head and spread out his arms. The metal grating barely stood a chance against the human cannonball. The section bent and broke, metal cracking and snapping against Rory’s upper back and arms.

The boots flew off of the grating before they suspended in mid air, hanging by a silk string as the figure who had once represented Lorcán now hung upside down angrily eying Rory.

"I thought you were taking me to the dance." She hissed venomously, firing webbing towards Rory in an effort to stick him to the ground.

"But no, that feathered floozy got to you first." Her tone was split between malice and sobbing as Mei swung herself up to the ceiling and stuck there.

"I thought you were one of the good ones, decent and honorable. A man of his words, but no, you're like all the rest. Just another dick that thinks with the small head between his shriveled up balls."

Rory’s heart sank as the words cut deep into his chest. He recognized her voice instantly. As he had rocketed through the grating at an angle, he ducked his shoulder into a roll and slid out of the way of Mei’s first web attack. His eyes shifted between the hanging Lorcán and the swinging Mei. His heart raced in his chest as he kept himself low to the ground, ready to spring forward at the next volley of attacks. His voice was loud, and his gaze harsh at his targets. They wanted to provoke him, and get him to slip up. He couldn’t resist talking back, just a little. Distraction worked on people… maybe it would work on the sim too. ”You don’t have to be mean just because you were too late with your moves, man… the real Mei would have hit that shot.”

“Of course I have to be mean, it’s the only thing that penetrates your thick skull, unlike Haven who is penetrated by anything that moves. Do you really think what you have is real? Wasn't it all a little too easy? Think, Rory! Think! She probably brings someone new home to roost each night. You were just easy, you were convenient. She doesn't actually care about you. You were today's worm and tomorrow she’ll fly away the second things get hard. Haven already has her bags packed in case she doesn't like how things go with the Foundation. Four years here means nothing to her, she’s always had one wing out the door, ready to run.”

That... that couldn't be true.

Rory's heart dropped, as he remained ready to pounce in a direction the second Mei made a move. He stared her down, his body language screaming that he was ready. A fist remained clenched, knees bent and one hand touching the grates. But the slightly agape mouth and wide eyes were enough of a sign that the words had gotten to him. He hated that it knew... and he wished he could just shove it down. But in that momentary instant, he couldn't help but feel it was true.

But it didn't matter if it was true or not.

Rory's mouth closed, he grit his teeth, and he never let his eyes leave Mei for a moment in the brief staredown. He would ask Haven about it later... but until then, no matter what, they had to live to talk about it.

Fire Emblem: The Slumbering Goddess

Nathanael Gloucester

_{Interacting with: @ThatCharacter | Location: Garreg Mach Monastery - Classroom}

---

It seemed the circus was going to be a never-ending show.

Nathanael used to enjoy pleasantries like this, especially when they involved such levity. In the present day, however, such an embarrassing display of social unawareness and a lack of professional etiquette in all parties was enough for the cynicism to return to his mind. It was one thing to consider it a challenge to improve one's skills under an untrained leader. It was truly a full on road-block to learn under so many.

Of course, Jorah took no time to once again embarrass the Leicester Alliance. Nathanael's face formed a deep frown upon his introduction, a clear sign of his discontent. He flashed a look in Clarissa's direction, broadcasting clearly the strain he would be under to follow her desire in playing nice with someone so unbelievably frustrating. Of course, he was not particularly pleased to be playing icebreakers. It was always an awkward affair, in his mind. And full of unnecessary information. He knew who the majority of the people in this room were, by reputation alone. At least now he knew Jorah liked food, Auberon was a zealot, and Kellen did not like surprises. He wasn't sure how he would have survived without such crucial information.

Play nice... stirring the pot will make enemies, not allies.

Nathanael took a breath, lifting his head high and regaining his composure. They were just being friendly, not unlike he once was. Nor his father, even if it did not save him in the end. Nate lifted his gaze, noticing the break in introductions after Kellen. His eyes narrowed in on the man's expressions. It was hard to not piece together his nervousness. Nathanael took no hesitation in standing up as Kellen sat down, giving him a stoic nod. His gaze drifted among his classmates as he spoke plainly. "I am Nathanael Gloucester, heir of the Duchy of Gloucester." He paused for a beat, weighing his options. He had satisfied his basic requirements, but the last thing he wanted was another scolding from Clarissa. It was a waste of all their time. "I am quite fond of histories, and enjoy studying new sword forms." He gave a nod, his body instinctively beginning to sit down at his seat once again.

He did, somewhat unexpectedly, pause halfway. His calculated gaze lifted to settle on Kellen. The man was a bundle of nerves, but he was part of this unit. Nate stared at him as he spoke, his tone still plain and even as he offered, of all things, a joke. "I... am also not fond of surprises."