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                            tabtabWelcome to Aevum Institute! This lovely facility has finally opened its doors to some of the most unique students and instructors in all of the world-- one of them being you. We hope you are as excited as we are for these Trials. This is history in the making.

                            We are three days into the school year and things have already started to get interesting. Rumors of missing Professors run amuck; several having disappeared without so much as a goodbye or bothering to take their belongings with them! Despite the town and school being under lock down, some say that a student was attacked by something on the first night (which was, coincidentally, the night of the full moon.) This despite Headmistress Falkenberg's reassurances to the werewolves that the serum she injected them with would help ease their transformation. Students in some classes have been assigned study partners that are...less than ideal, making tensions run high in the library during Study Hall. Finally, some students seem to be trickling in late - but we've yet to see any more than two vampires in the whole school...odd...isn't it?

                            Tips: Blank quoting those you interact with will make things easier to follow. However, it is not mandated, but what is mandated is a small section in your layout where you indicate where your character is and with whom. Thank you!


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♬ ♪xx ↪ Ӎ i r a i xƉ e i m a n t e↩ xx♪ ♬

Where I am: English.xxxWho I'm with: The lycan boy and the rest of English.
What I'm wearing: xxxxHow I'm feeling: Hoboy. English. Woooooo.

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Well, balls.

What an a**. Mirai stared bitterly down at the book that she clenched in one hand, an unamused and irritated scowl shaping her mouth. Aesop's Fables? She'd heard of these in her elementary school history class. They'd even gotten read one of them. Had some animals in it or some bullshit, which was pretty retarded because the only animals that could talk were werewolves. It was supposed to teach them some antiquated moral or life lesson or something similar that Mirai could also similarly give a rat's s**t about. The piece was very thin, at least, and from what she could see by flipping through the pages of the book with one hand in a quick flutter, the type wasn't too dense and it looked like a bunch of stories that were like a page or two long. What did this teacher think she was, stupid?

With a flick of her wrist, she slapped the book rather unceremonially down onto the table and gave n irritated sigh. Well. At least it'd be an easy reading assignment, right? She didn't care if the damn professor didn't realize that she was probably smarter than most of the idiots in the class-and definitely most, if not all, of the shedim (maybe not the vampires)- and she was going to just breeze through the stories. Good. Screw him.

Marinating in her own irritation, the rest of the English class passed without incident. She simply stewed where she sat, using the tip of her pencil to gouge ugly marks into the side of her paper-random little lines and swirls and dots, her other hand cupping her chin while her elbow rested on the table. The class was as predictably boring as she'd imagined before-she didn't like English an she knew that this class was going to be stupid. Who the hell did stuff like this? Stupid professors, that was who. She was already tired of this a*****e and she hadn't even had him for a week yet. It was going to be a very long year, it seemed.

She was packed long before the class ended, standing up suddenly and shoving her way to an exit. Only one more class. That was it. One more class. What was it again..? Oh. Yeah. Combat. Why in the everlasting ******** did she sign up for that one, again? Perhaps it was because everything else sounded lame. She didn't want to do dueling or whatever-she could just skirt by in Combat or whatever, just let all of the meatheads fight it out and spar and she'd just do whatever she had to in order to not fail. She didn't care about getting a good grade in it, if such a thing even mattered at this point-screw that class. It was a stupid idea for a class and people who liked it were stupid meatheads.

Needless to say, Mirai looked positively charming as she walked towards her final class of the day, hands tucked into her pockets.



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☁` ` ` ☽☽☽ - - - ▻ Samuel L Corinx ◅ - - - ☾☾☾ ` ` `☁

who i'm with: Nobody.xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxwhere we are: Dining Hall

how am i feeling: Much better with food in me.
/-------------------------------------------------o-------------------------------------------------

...Huh. Staring down at the book made Sam's eyebrows lift in interest but also a bit of confusion, a pang of anxiety running through his stomach. This book was heavy reading. The pages themselves smelled like time and ancient weathering, and the ink on the pages was slightly discolored. Overall the piece just looked.. very old, and the writing quite archaic and difficult to understand. Why was he assigned this? Why did the professor have to give him something so damn dense? He was already freaking out a little bit over the work that he was going to have to do in his classes, and this was only another added struggle onto a workload that he'd taken thinking that he had the smarts to handle it all. He supposed dogged devotion and a persistent, bull-headed work ethic would have to make up for it, if he didn't have enough objective confidence in himself.

"Son of a b***h." He muttered under his breath, both hands pressing against his jaw and rubbing up over his face in exasperation. This was going to be difficult year, to put it lightly. His book was placed down on his table, and his fingers slowly trailed along the front of it in repeated circles, his clawtips barely even touching the surface. Phenomenology of Spirit.. A low sigh fell through his fangs like a cold wind through a cave of stalactites and he lifted the book with a hand as gently as he could, replacing it in its place in his backpack between two notebooks. He doodled in his notebook, his body leaning forward on his table and his eyes occasionally lifting, the amber orbs peering about the room and at the different people inside of it as he tried not to think about the book resting inside of his bag.

He didn't even want to think about what the damn thing was about, but he had a little clue. The master-slave dialetic or whatever, the continuum of stages and transitions.. he had a bad feeling about the novel but, of course, he was going to read it and he was going to show the professor that he could handle the damn thing, even if in reality it was quite far out of what he would consider his comprehensible range.

If you couldn't do something, fake being able to do it with little effort and everything would work out fine if you tried your hardest.

The bell rung and the werewolf slowly stood up, slinging his bag over a shoulder. Though English had rapidly gone downhill once he realized that he was just going to sit around the class and do nothing until the bell rang, his last class still held plenty of promise-he had found dueling enjoyable last time, at least. He enjoyed exercise a lot, whether it be weights or pushups or even just running around a track for an hour or two-getting out into the air and moving and running around.. there was nothing really like it. He smiled fondly as he walked towards his final period, his amber eyes staring forward but not quite focusing on anything as he thought about what they'd be doing that day.

Even if his day was going awfully, he could always depend on a bit of fresh air to make him feel better.




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Calimero’s company was a breath of fresh air; proof that the halls of Aevum Institute housed other friendly souls – which she had begun to doubt in the past day or two. In the pleasant blonde’s company she was able to forget her parent’s deceit, Astor Dulani’s deadpan attitude and even the mysterious way that the instructor pool was growing smaller by the hour. Funnily enough, it was Professor Jennings’ well-being that most concerned her. True – the woman was already dead…or is it undead? but that didn’t mean she couldn’t disappear right? Transparent “condition” aside, Lucille Jennings had been kind to Elodie; who still felt terrible for her seemingly inherent fear of the dead woman. Not that any of the other teachers seem too bad… She immediately consented, thinking over the relatively few complaints she’d heard about them thus far. Well, most of them. Of all the teachers, it seemed as if the only one student body cared to spare was Dr. Berkovic. “Stay away from him, ‘lodie.” Her father had warned her multiple times, bending at the waist to look her dead in the eyes. “Remember, he’s a criminal. The only reason he’s at that school is because he’s agreed to help fix the very problem he created. No responsibility…that man…I remember…” What her father remembered Elodie did not get to find out. Her mother had interrupted him with a sharp look. All the young malakhim knew was that she was not to spend time with the man many still called, “the mad professor.” But a few common courtesies couldn’t hurt. After all, he is trying to make things right. She reasoned, finding no sensible logic behind ignoring him outright. He was crass and rude, but there was something about the irritable man that made her feel just a little bit sorry for him.

The Elodie of just a few minutes ago would not have felt well enough to race; too weak, worried, embarrassed. Less than a week at the institute and already life was throwing more curveballs her way than she’d ever dreamed of facing. There was so much to process and the sweet, innocent girl struggled to deal with it all. But running down the halls was freeing and by the time the two reached the common room she was flush-faced and smiling wide. She brushed her heavy contemplations away for a quieter time, knowing full well that the best way to make Aevum a success was to try her hardest to set an example in favor of integration. Though she and Calimero were of the same race, Elodie felt somewhat apart from the rest of the genetically created soldiers. What better way to resolve that then to befriend them? Wanting to be a gracious victor, she stood by Cal’s side while he congratulated her and offered…

“A…date?” Elodie stammered, immediately thrown off. The lonely common room, occupied only by the two teenagers suddenly felt smaller than it had before he’d spoken. Her smile faded uncertainly as she tried to get a read on Cal. He was acting as if it wasn’t a big deal; bookbag thrown to the floor at his feet, a touseled lock of golden hair hampering his vision and the rest of his jaw in the open palm of his (remarkably large) hand. She stood there for a few seconds – avoiding eye contact and clutching her book bag in front of herself. Luckily, it didn’t take long for her complete ingenuousness to catch up with her and her smile returned, as vibrant as ever. “If you want, I’ll race you every week.” She agreed, latching on to the innocent explanation and brushing off the glimmer of flirtatiousness in Calimero’s eyes as the product of an overactive imagination. Honest to a fault, the blonde confessed her folly as she took the chair to his immediate left. “For a second there, I thought you were asking me out.” She giggled, mystified by how such an odd idea crept into her head. “Can you imagine?” Her playful laugh was interrupted by the incoming flow of students – male, female, human, werewolves, even a girl who seemed to mist herself with water every few seconds. A mermaid?! Elodie was easily distracted by such things – but did her best to act as if a variable Noah’s Ark of species was not waltzing into the classroom. No. Where others with her background might be rude or terrified, Miss. Chase sought to be civil. Even as one girl – a human – burst out into hysterical shrieking and held out an open notebook for Cal to sign.

Unfortunately, there was seemingly little time for autographs. The instructor who entered the room then was not the same Professor they had the day prior or the day before that; while very much a fae, he was (for one) male. She instantly recognized the…exuberant man and greeted him with a bright, “Hello, Professor Sunsparkles!” True he seemed younger than the other teachers, but Elodie couldn’t imagine calling him by his first name and ducked her head bashfully when he requested his students do so. With the rest of the musically inclined, she shuffled towards the appropriately-named sunbeam of a man and watched as he gently corrected mistakes in each student’s scales. Still shaking from her shot, she made several errors on the piano but managed a passable set of solfège with her voice. When he suggested they practice in pairs before jumping ship to another group, Elodie immediately turned to Calimero only to see that he seemed –quite- occupied with a number of giggling women and men. That feeling again, like a phantom itch, nagged at her. Just where had she seen him before? Just as she was going to turn to find another partner, she felt a gentle touch on her elbow. Freed from the group, the bronzed god of a malakhim offered to play the piano while she sang and in this manner the rest of the class period flew by swiftly. “This was fun.” Elodie chirped, her voice a little raw from the incoming chill. She would have been perfectly content to spend more time with him but the sound of the bell reminded her of Professor Jennings’ request. Eyes wide with alarm, she gave Cal’s hand a brief squeeze, snatched his bookbag from the floor and darted towards Lecture Hall A.

Two runs without running into anything was apparently too much to demand of the powers that be. Though, what she did hit was far more painful than any wall had ever been. The blow sent her crashing to the ground, her already-bruising forehead reeling with ache. The unfamiliar bag clutched to her side suffered no damages but Elodie herself felt she might crack with embarrassment. “Sorry!” She spluttered; standing in order to give her unfortunate victim a more sincere apology. Not that it would have made the clumsy girl feel any better, but there was no apology earnest enough to wipe the offended glare off Vittoria Lane’ face. A wave of cold was at her side not much after and she looked up to see…well, to see –through- the ghostly German Professor who had summoned her in the first place. “Tut mir leid, dass ich zu spät komme,” Her divided attention (between ghost and vampiress) did little to alter the sweet sounding tone of the accent Marigold had helped her perfect over the years. Remembering another lesson - she smiled weakly and tried to make the best of the situation. “Frau Jennings.” This despite the fact that it seemed that Elodie had arrived perfectly on time. There was a very small crowd gathered around the general site of the accident but most of the other students were hoofing it to their next classes. “Vi…vittoria.” She began, finally standing and holding her hands up in a placating gesture. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t see you…”


Situated...: Vitae Common Room/Outside Lecture Hall A
Icy Sapphire
Elodie used ditz!

Hanna Ananas
./BRACES FOR THE GERMAN LECTURE OOC

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Since I imagine he’ll witness some of that tail end.


Wearing...: This

Feeling...: Clumsy

OOC...: ((./Sets loose a jar of obligatory responses for Hanna and Icy))

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                                      Vittoria Eudoxia Lane is currently in the hall with Elodie Beth Chase and Professor Jennings and no longer trying to get over her blind rage.

                                      Vittoria wasn’t about to waste any thoughts even remotely similar to Jennings being an oh-so-excellent-and-wonderful ex-human. All the same she spared the ever-elusive flash of a (somewhat triumphant and self-assured and most certainly fanged) smile at the praise. She would give, at the very least, that Jennings did a decent job in balancing out the unparalleled outrage that Berkovic had inspired. Or perhaps she could simply recognize perfection when he saw it—an ability most people in this damned establishment seemed to lack. Regardless, where he had given her double her share of homework (no doubt to try and hold on to what deluded sense of dominance he believed he possessed), Jennings had eliminated it all together. Good. Vittoria didn’t need to waste her time practicing what she had already learned more than a lifetime ago. Once she found out what the assignment actually was she was even more relieved.

                                      Not that the homework in question would have taken her much time to complete. It was simply the principle. Vittoria may have been enrolled as a student, but she would not permit being treated like a child in need of instruction. As such she was more than happy to close her (mostly empty) notebook at the end of the class and saunter out—if not nearly with the same vehemence she displayed when exiting the one previous. In fact, there was practically a self-assured bounce to her step (a stroked ego being one of the closest things to cheerfulness she was capable of—that was schoolyard appropriate to discuss, anyway). Unfortunately the appeased expression that had settled across the vampire’s fair face didn’t last long.

                                      There was one more class left. Of course—of course it was with Berkovic. How often and for how many days was she honestly expected to have to suffer through that man’s lectures (if one could even deign to call them that)? Her mood pre-emptively darkened to match her hair and the cold stare of her thickly-lashed eyes. Better to mentally steel herself for the oncoming train of mind-numbing petulance than to be even remotely surprised when it barreled through her (not that Vittoria believed she couldn’t stop a train if she tried; it was simply a pain to have to in the first place). Nonetheless, she expected her patience to plummet ever further regardless of her efforts to soften the effects that the Professor would undoubtedly have.

                                      Vittoria didn’t expect it to happen so soon and entirely devoid of his presence.

                                      Naturally, when another member of the student body crashed headlong into her, Vittoria felt perhaps the amount of discomfort that a brick wall felt when faced with a gnat. An annoying blonde gnat who didn’t know when to keep her freckled nose out of sight. It didn’t matter if she barely felt it. What mattered, again, was the principle. Some lowly cretin dared run into her? The fact that it was Elodie…well, that only made it worse. Some measure of indignation visibly flared in her face before she could reign it back in again—before she could flip it up into a sardonic smile (though it was more of an angry grimace, really).

                                      The vampire stood her ground where she would have preferred to keep walking, a hiss squeezing out from between her fangs as she stared down at the blonde. Didn’t see her? The nerve! Everyone saw Vittoria! She was beautiful! “You got your stink on me.”

                                      Normally, Vittoria would have been a better job of at least pretending to play nice. To attempt a more sincere smile and bite back her venom in order to assure Elodie (if sharply and with a threatening edge to it) that it was fine as long as it didn’t happen again. She would have done this for Jennings’ benefit, if nothing else. The line had been crossed too far for her to collect herself in time to realize the consequences of her own actions. Elodie could be as insufferable and headache-inducing and obnoxiously bubbly as she deemed necessary—as long as she stayed an acceptable distance away. The girl had touched her. Unintentionally, maybe, but it had been done. And nobody touched her. Nobody. Not without her permission.

                                      One quick step and she was just inches away from Elodie, icy eyes meeting her generally warm ones. “A piece of advice: perhaps consider keeping your eyes in front of you where they may actually do you some use. That is, if you think you can pull your head out of the clouds long enough to accomplish this.” And then her fingers curled fists into Elodie’s (plainly colored, a nice style but overall just as drab as her round little face) jacket around the shoulders and tugged upward, bringing their eyes a bit more on level as Elodie’s feet left the ground so only her toes touched. “If you don’t, you might suddenly find yourself without eyes at all. Do I make myself clear?”

                                      Without waiting for a response, Vittoria released her classmate to stumble back on her feet and shouldered past her to continue on to her next class. Not without tossing an almost-too-pleasant sounding farewell over her shoulder, however. “Bis dann, Frau Jennings,” and bit more lowly, “Elodie.”



Hanna Ananas

Mysterious Sign Painter

AvalonWitch

Conservative Bloodsucker

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Don't listen to a word I say.
The screams all sound the same


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L u c i ℓ ℓ εxxxxɪ.xxxxJ ε η η i n g s
Ғormεrℓy Humąη

╬══→ | wer: miss chase & the bloodsucker | wo: deutschklasse | musik:♫ ♬ |


Though the truth may vary,
This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore.


xxxx“Ein Moment, Herr…”

Even though she had taught the student now pestering her on numerous occasions, Lucille found that his name had escaped her memory… Or, rather, she found that she hadn’t bothered to learn it in the first place. It wasn’t as if the ghost could be blamed. Humans, malakhim… Really, aside from vampires and a handful of the fey, the non-interesting students would die too soon for her to justify forming personal relationships with them. The boy had neglected to prove interesting in prior classes.

If it got him out of her classroom any faster, however, she would humor him.

"Lieblingsmärchen? Sie haben ein Lieblingsmärchen? Welches Märchen? Aschenputtel, Däumling, Rotkäppchen…?"

Without waiting for a response, Lucille ran her hand across the top of the book cart and began to name off the titles it touched. The gesture in itself was useless, but its uselessness could not prevent the enjoyment she found in imagining the dry paper brushing against her fingertips and smearing ink across her skin. She knew how the children’s books felt; she didn’t need a functioning nervous system to explain it to her.

The only person that needed explaining was Mister… Well, whoever he was. When Lucille’s perusal of the remaining titles was complete, she turned to him and switched into English without missing a beat.

"Really, the point of the exercise is to introduce new vocabulary. To have you struggle to figure out the story. How will I be convinced that you read the tale in German if you can already summarize it in English?”

Again, Lucille couldn’t be bothered to wait for the boy to speak. With an effortless wave of the hand, she sent a copy of “Rumpelstilzchen” sailing at his chest and quickly said, “Here’s what I’ll do; I’ll assign you this book for your grade. If you still want your favorite for practice, I would suggest stopping at a German language library during your free time in town this weekend.”

The boy was shooed out of the classroom at that, left in the hallway to go to whichever class he had next. Lucille hoped to her god that it wasn’t Dueling. She had enough problems with that course as it was, including being completely unsure of how to approach the subject matter. The questions of a needy student would only worsen the stress that already threatened to send her to the infirmary.

If she were human, Lucille would have leaned against the wall in relief at finally having a brief planning period, perhaps taking a moment to breathe and collect her racing thoughts. As it was, she just floated a bit lower than usual and steeled herself for her scheduled meeting with Miss Chase. She hadn’t yet forgotten their lunchtime conversation, and she fully intended to hunt out the girl to continue it.

Fortunately enough, she didn't have to do much hunting. The malakhim in question had chosen to barge into the lecture hall just as the final German student decided to leave it. The result was a rather nasty collision and (what Lucille inferred to be) a heated exchange of apologies that she would not involve herself with -- not yet, at least. At Vittoria's departure, she only nodded her head and acknowledged the vampire with a curt, "Miss Lane."

What felt like an eternity passed before Lucille dared to hover across the room and greet Elodie, though the worry etched deep into her expression was clear the moment Vittoria had turned her back to the ghost. What Lucille hoped to discuss with Miss Chase was confidential -- confidential, and perfect cannon fodder for any manipulative vampiresses that happened to be eavesdropping from the hallway.

"I forgive your lateness, Miss Chase. I trust your class with Sunsparkles was enjoyable? It's a shame he isn't presiding over a low-intensity class next hour that I could transfer you into..."

"The situation being what it is, however... I believe you'll be of best use as my assistant. We shall continue to work on private shapeshifting lessons in your spare time. Study Halls on Tuesday and Wednesday evenings would work best for me, as I do not have hallway duty those nights. It's not as if I'll be helping other students during those hours, yes?"


Q u o t i n gxxxx the xxxx g o d s :
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█ ███ ████ ██████ ███████ ████████ нαzєℓ_нαммσиם_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Golden smile, You've got style that they can't take away.♪"__xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

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                                        Following her biology period, roughly toward the end of lunchtime, Hazel received word that she'd been called up to the front office. Though she wasn't sure what exactly was wrong, she knew she didn't have much choice in the manner. "Hope I'm not late to class!" she murmured to herself as she packed her bag and headed in the opposite direction of where she should normally be going. The slightest bit of worry whizzed through her head as she tried to think of anything she might have done wrong by mistake that could illicit her being called to the office. One thing was certain: She wasn't going to find her parents waiting for her, checking her out for a trip to the psychiatrist. Those days were behind her, thankfully.

                                        When the bell rang for Humanities courses to begin, she knew her day was going to get a little rougher. She eventually arrived in the office where she was asked to sit and wait for a bit while the administrators tended to other matters with students who'd already been waiting for a while. "Please. What am I here for, at least?" she tried to ask, but received no response. She let out a quiet sigh and sat down among some other students. Most seemed different than her -- Shedim or Malakhim no doubt (she was starting to get a lot better at recognizing them, though she still wasn't the best at telling the difference without asking).

                                        It felt a bit weird to Hazel how many of the others there were. Surely she had no issues with them -- they were people, too -- but she felt as though, as a human, she was in the minority. Whether that made her more or less special, she wasn't sure. It wasn't a thing she understood entirely, but it was a thing nonetheless. She used her free time to scroll through the pictures she'd taken so far today on her camera. Some photos of students, that feisty pink-haired girl, the outer gardens and the sunlit sky. And, of course, the self-shot she'd taken that morning with her new hair that she still felt pretty proud of. It was a nice to feeling to look at herself and think 'Pretty' instead of something less flattering.

                                        Hazel's stomach wasn't gurgling either. She must have eaten enough for lunch that day to last her into the next period, which wasn't always that common for her. She was getting better, though. She was better. Hazel was finally, more or less, healthy. Or so she told herself. Her parents and doctors might debate a little on that subject, but certainly her behavior wasn't an immediate danger to her well-being. She shook her head a bit, smiling as she tried to shove the thoughts of those days away. It was about then she heard her name called and she jumped up in response. "Yes! I'm Hazel Hammond."

                                        Hazel wound up talking briefly to a small handful of people before finally learning what the point of this all was. She was receiving a new class list due to some changes in period and teacher scheduling. 'I like my teachers, though. And Eve and Cal are in my classes.' The thought was a bit of a somber one, but she thanked the administrator who handed her an envelope with her new schedule sheet inside as she left the office. She almost dropped the letter when she noticed how few changes had been made. It seemed almost silly how long she'd been asked to wait just to receive such minor news. About then the bell rang and she realized it was time for the abilities class period, which for her was now combat and weapons with Professor Berkovic. Hazel wondered who else would be in there. She had no doubt that the Berk would be pleased to see her -- she had been, unintentionally, his little pet in another class.

                                        Hazel made her way to the gymnasium, trying her best to weave through other students and arrive on time. She seemed to be successful, as she walked into the gym doors within just a moment of traversing the hallways. She looked around for Professor Berkovic and any other students, ready to see what specifically this class would entail.



Quote:
Whereabouts: Office / Gymnasium for Combat & Weapons
Attire: This
Company: Gym Students
Out of Character: Hope this works for getting Hazel where she should be now. c:

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                                          Calimero Maciel Valerian is all over the place chasing after Elodie Beth Chase and feeling a touch confused.


                                          It was funny how someone so cute could so viciously rip out your still beating heart and then smash it under her foot while smiling so prettily. Okay, that was an exaggeration. Obviously it hadn’t been any sort of intentional stab. It was just bad enough being rejected (and Cal generally didn’t get rejected in the first place), let alone being rejected in such a sweet, unaware manner that would’ve left him looking like the jerk if he did anything less than play it off. So he did just that: play it off. It actually wasn’t that hard. I mean…it was kind of cute the way Elodie laughed.

                                          It would have been a whole lot cuter if it hadn’t been him she was inadvertently laughing at. What did she mean by “can you even imagine”? Cal actually could imagine! In fact…that was what he had been doing when he had brought it up! It had been a lovely thought, in fact, full of scenic walks and hand holding and…other things he probably shouldn’t be admitting to.

                                          In any case, Cal hoped that the awkward quality to his (somewhat less enthused) laugh was masked by the gentle glimmer of his smile. It was fortunate for him that they found themselves interrupted before he had a chance to come up with a subtle reply (and, well, lie). He responded pleasantly and appropriately to his apparent fan, scrawling his name across her notebook with an easy swipe of his hand, before shooing her off with a wink to better listen to the arriving Professor. The second he gave his orders for them, Calimero stood and turned with the intent of offering to work in a pair with Elodie—only to be flocked by a gaggling bunch of hopefuls.

                                          It…well, it was kind of embarrassing. More-so that the girls (and boys?) were behaving like that, mind you, but nonetheless embarrassing. It was all Calimero could do to gently elbow his way out of the circle of students and reach Elodie once again. The smile they exchanged was enough, and without another word they slid over to an open piano and Cal worked his musical magic. Not that his piano playing could even really compare to the soft, sweet tones of his partner’s voice. When the class was over, it was over all too soon, and the smiling teen had felt as if he had only just begun to provide the accompaniment to Elodie’s vocals.

                                          “It was,” he agreed merrily. “Be sure to—oh, uh, see you!”

                                          He had been about to suggest she rest her voice for the next class, seeing as she seemed a bit winded by the end of the class, but Elodie didn’t quite give Cal the chance. She was off in a heartbeat, running when…she probably shouldn’t have been. But, well, it was cute and Cal would be a dirty liar if he said he didn’t like the way she looked when her hair was flowing like a glossy whip behind her. It wasn’t until Cal reached for his bag that he realized anything was wrong. “Hey, El—aaand she’s gone.” The blonde sighed, and with a shrug of his shoulders picked up his friend’s bag (much more gently than he would have cared for his own, mind you), and picked up his pace to follow her.

                                          If Cal was being honest, he doubted that he really needed any of his books for a physical activity type class…but they were always handy to have. And if he had come to learn Elodie’s habits at all in the past couple of days, Cal was more than a little sure at how panicked she’d be the second she realized her mistake. He was just in time to see her zip around the corner when he left the class, and appropriately shifted from a fast walk to a low-paced jog.

                                          In fact, he nearly shouldered heavily into a vampire on the way—a vampire who glared at him so icily that the Malakhim could have sworn he felt his blood turn cold for a split second. “Holy hell,” he grumbled as he continued (more slowly) on his way, watching Vittoria make her hasty escape. “What twisted her panties?”

                                          It wasn’t a question that really needed answering. Not when, hardly a moment later after he had turned back around to face forward, he swung sideways into the classroom Elodie had disappeared into and saw the somewhat-droopy look on the aforementioned girl’s face. “I, uh…” he raised her bag awkwardly with a crooked, slightly bashful smile. “I noticed we had a bit of a mix-up…” Trailing off, Cal looked from Elodie to Jennings. “Sorry to have just barged in like that, Professor…I hope I’m not interrupting something, am I?”

                                          That explained why Elodie had run off so fast, anyway. Not wanting to be late to class, he’d be out of their hair the second their bags were exchanged.


    avalonwitch

    hanna ananas

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                                        So this was it.

                                        Standing in front of the gates of Aevum, Charlie came to realize that this place, this strange university filled with humans, malakhim, and shedim alike, would be the single thing that would save him from the same fate his mother had suffered. Less than a week ago, he'd been faced with a death sentence because he was 'a danger to the masses' according to those who had some sort of say in what happened with the malakhim project. He was one of the many soldiers who would have been killed for what he was; an unstable monster. The very thought had a physical effect on the young man, causing his body to tremble, threatening to break out into a full trigger if he did not regain his composure. With his fists balled out his sides, Charlie forced himself to take a few breaths through his teeth, having learned the proper way to control the flare ups of anger that could become deadly in just a matter of seconds. In an attempt to push away the overwhelming feeling of losing control, he attempted to focus on where he was at that very minute. The gates of Aveum.

                                        Being a malakhim, Charlie had never had any sort of formal education other than on how to fight and perhaps how to control his triggers. There had been no academics; no literature assignments or attempting to struggle through arithmetic, which he was already sure he would be lost to when it was formally introduced to him. He wasn't entirely oblivious to what was coming; he knew all too well that with attending the school came many serious responsibilities. He'd been chosen by Rupen to have this second chance. Not exactly directly, the pair had hardly exchanged two words with each other, but there was a deal between them that had been delivered more as an ultimatum to Charlie; report what he knew to Rupen and live, or refuse to follow orders and succumb to the same fate his mother had fallen. Execution. The decision had been a fairly easy one to make, at that point.

                                        Trying to brush off the memory and the hostile rage that came along with it, Charlie squared his shoulders and took a tentative step through the gates, half expecting something miraculous to happen the first time he dared place a foot on the campus. To his relief, or perhaps his disappointment, there was nothing of the sort. Glancing down at the papers in his hand, he squinted at the room assignment number that was printed at the top of the paper. Room 3A. The second paper in his packet displayed a map of the campus that allowed for him to at least attempt to figure out where he had to go. Hauling his rather large duffle bag over his shoulder, he began the trek toward the Epsilon Dormitories where he would be settling in. Considering he was already three days later than the rest of the student body and classes were already more than half way done for the day, Charlie had figured that missing a few minutes of another class wouldn't be too big of a deal. He'd formally start tomorrow if he had to.

                                        "Christ almighty." he murmured under his breath as he made it to the doors of the dormitory building and began ascending the stairs, a quiet grunting escaping his lips as he heaved the heavy bag over his shoulder. He winced when the thick strap grazed one of his many wounds that marred his back. That one just so happened to be one of the more recent bullet wounds he'd received in battle. Pushing the thought from his mind, he fought the pain and carried his belongings up the stairs until he managed to locate 3A, a small wooden door one one side of a rather narrow hall. Unlocking his door, he was forced to blink a few times to register what he was seeing. A whole lot of white, that was for sure, but even more surprisingly, an actual bed, a room of his own. Pathetic as it might have seemed to anyone else that saw their rooms, Charlie was relieved to find that he was being treated like an actual person here. He would have a bed, a room, not a cell that he was forced to sit in while being referred to as malakhim #4684245 or whatever the hell they had called him when he was back in those god forsaken laboratories.

                                        He sure as hell hadn't been expecting this.

                                        Lugging his things inside, Charlie placed his bag on the bed and sat down for a moment, his aching body relaxing almost immediately. He wasn't sure when the last time he'd had an actual restful night's sleep had been. Before Ivan's death, probably. He rummaged through his things for a moment or two, withdrawing a few sets of clothes and storing them in the dresser beside his bed. Unpacking what he could now would probably help him in the long run. A few minutes after storing away the bare minimum of things he had, Charlie turned his attention back to his schedule. Apparently the finish of the first period was coming to an end in just a few moments, and he would have to set off to the final period, Dueling.

                                        Now that sounded like something he might be good at.

                                        Instead of wandering directly to the class, Charlie decided to stop by the nurse first. He'd been told upon acceptance that due to his 'condition' he would have to see the nurse two to three times a day for injections that would keep him from triggering during classes. It was understandable, as much as Charlie hated to admit it. He wouldn't want to harm any other students inadvertently, though he had heard that there was a very good chance that there would be vampires in some of his classes. "In which case, I might trigger anyway." he grumbled quietly, biting the inside of his cheek and leaving his room, making sure that his door was locked behind him. No one could be trusted around here, not even the student who would be moving into 3B eventually. He made his way swiftly from the building and, with his trusty map in hand and his backpack slung over his good shoulder, made his way to where he hoped the infirmary was. It took two tries before he managed to successfully locate where he needed to be, wandering eventually into the little building where beds lined either side of the wall waiting to nurse wounded or sick students back to health. A plump older woman sat at a desk to the side, a pair of spectacles sitting on the bridge of her nose, undoubtedly the nurse. "Can I help you, dear?" she asked with a cocked brow, looking up from her work.

                                        "I need one of my injections." he informed, moving when she gestured for him to sit on one of the beds. Much like the injection of an epipen, the injection was thrust into Charlie's thigh muscle, making the solider cringe and grimace as the fiery substance raced through his body and made him grit his teeth, waiting for the burn to stop and leave him with a sense of relief. "That should hold you until tonight." the nurse informed, giving Charlie a pat on his weakened shoulder that made him bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood. The metallic taste made him grimace. "Thank you." he managed, standing up and favoring his uninjected leg for a few strides before he was able to properly walk. He gathered his things and quickly murmured a few words of thanks to the nurse before exiting the infirmary without a look back.

                                        His next class would apparently be with professor Jennings on the field, which was easy enough to find. He was grateful for the excuse to be out in the open air, and hoped that perhaps an attempt at combat would be something to put his mind at ease.


                                        OOC
                                        first post, please correct me guys

                                        Charlie is currently headed to the field and is entirely alone at the moment, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

Conservative Bloodsucker

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I'm not really sure how it goes.


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Ｎ Ｏ Ａ Ｈ xxxxℓeexxxxＳ Ｔ Ｅ Ｒ Ｌ Ｉ Ｎ Ｇ
mothereffin' malakhim

╬══→ | who: no one I know, that's for damn sure | where: dueling | feeling: mildly uncomfortable |


But it's sad and it's sweet,
And I knew it complete
When I wore a younger man's clothes.


xxxxDespite the afternoon storm beating against his dorm's windows, Noah Sterling found himself utterly unable to think about anything other than snuggling up with a warm blanket and taking a nap. Not that he would use the word "snuggling," of course; malakhim were too rugged and badass to snuggle.

No, as soon as he finished his dueling course, he would head down to the library and haphazardly toss a blanket over his shivering body. Hopefully it wouldn't reek of dog like his not-cell did. The wars had ensured that dog stench did nothing for relaxation on his part. Still, the brown-haired boy could appreciate the risk Aevum's staff took by rooming a werewolf with a malakhim specifically bred to slaughter werewolves. If they could learn to tolerate each other -- unlikely as it was -- it would prove the UN's little experiment a success. If they couldn't, well... Noah's claw-resistant skin would fare much better in a brawl than the average human's.

At least the administration had picked the right malakhim for the task. Unlike many of his hoodlum brothers and sisters, Noah didn't plan on attacking Samuel Corinx at first sight. There would be no reward for such a kill; there would only be a (rather nasty) return to the metal cell of his childhood. The trip alone would take days. Although Noah wasn't quite sure how far Aevum Academy was from his laboratory home in Undisclosed Location, the three airplane rides, two car trips, and water crossing he had to endure to arrive at the school hinted that it wasn't exactly his next-door neighbor.

In truth, Noah had plenty of time to consider his feelings towards werewolves after he was no longer needed in battle. Perhaps it was something about the complete solitude he faced at the labs, but he had come to figure that the shaggiest of shedim weren't much different than him. Forced transformations, super-human strength, an insatiable appetite... Surely, he reasoned, I'll have something in common with the guy -- even if it's just a love for undercooked burgers.

Just as Noah started to (figuratively) drool at the prospect of a large and meaty dinner selection, a roar of mountain thunder forced him to pause and rethink attending Dueling. From what he could gather from his schedule, the class was held outside on some field or another. With his luck, he'd be pitted against some sort of lightning fae; an electrocuted student would probably be a pleasant surprise for the professor he'd overhead Sherbertflan Funsparkles (or whatever his name was) gossiping about with the other librarians.

When the thunder reared its ugly head again, Noah was well on his way to class. He trudged down hallway after hallway, eventually making his way outside into what was perhaps the muddiest set of fields he had ever had the displeasure of crossing. A handful of students had already congregated by what he assumed was a storage shed, but no teacher was in sight.

Probably getting ready to ambush us or something. All the better to start a fighting class or whatever, I guess.

Sighing, Noah put his hands in his pockets and joined the throng of people. Out of all his lecturers, this Jennings was the one he had the most reservations about meeting. Like most ghosts, she was likely some victim of the war, looking to exact revenge on anyone that survived the bombings and battles. His only consolation was that, being a former human, the ghost-lady would probably take out the foul-smelling shedim first.

Three minutes ticked by before things got awkward. If a lifetime inside a maximum security laboratory setting had taught Noah anything, it was that any chance for a conversation needed to be snapped up before a phone call or catastrophic chemical spill snatched it away. Aside from two fairies that were sucking face, none of his classmates were conversing.

Donning a hesitant smile, the malakhim turned to the nearest person that looked (or at least smelled) normal and gave an almost apologetic shrug -- as if he felt guilty for not initiating an introduction earlier.

“Rainy enough for ya? Having a class outside in this mess... Well, it's different; I'll say that much!”



Y O U Rxxxx T U R N , xxxx S L A C K E R S:
pontmercies
I don't know why Noah sounds so Canadian, but sorry not sorry.

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A group of mixed-species young adults gathered into one castle managing not to kill one another would not change the world. No. Elodie was not a fool enough to think that Aevum’s success would bend the minds of rigid politicians and even more obstinate populations. There would be a great deal more work to do if… once she amended harshly, the institute took off and the impassioned blonde intended to be doing quite a lot of it. However, if the school were to fail it would all but signal the end for those who hoped so fervently to unite a world that war had torn apart. Resistance would be natural, her father had advised her. Change wasn’t easy and Aevum was more of a last-ditch effort than a well-thought out attempt to show people that the species could co-exist peacefully as equals. Rather than discouraging her, this fact only served to cement the young woman’s resolve. She would do her best to represent the interests of her father and every other sensibly-minded person in the world by helping the trials along. Realizing that not everyone shared this goal was only slightly disappointing, they would come around. It was not in her nature not to believe the best of others but Vittoria Lane certainly wasn’t making it easy to find the silver lining to her particular brand of …assertiveness.

Elodie was quite certain she had given herself a thorough scrubbing and that her perfume was pleasant, but diluted enough so as to not irritate her olfactorilly gifted classmates. Still, she made a mental note to find out how to rid herself of the stink the other girl alleged to have been infected with. While profuse and sincere apologies tumbled from her lips, Elodie abruptly found herself face to face with Vittoria and a few more inches off the ground than she was accustomed to. Oddly enough, rather than focus on the threats being launched at her, the petite malakhim realized she was staring. A high pitched buzz was whirring in her mind, in her mind alone – she knew – because had anyone else heard it they would have surely wanted to clutch their hands to their ears as she was so strongly tempted to do. Along with the noise was a vision of her own hands ripping Vittoria’s slim wrist to the side, though of course Elodie would do no such thing. The curiosity that caused her to stare, however, was that there was an ever so slight indentation around the very wrist she’d been imagining squeezing. One or two blinks later and the it was gone with the vampiress giving no indication there had been anything amiss at all. From that point on, Elodie’s eyes remained fixated to the front just as they’d been commanded to do. A letter back home, even a little note to the United Nations sent through the school would have been enough to get Vittoria expelled and one of Elodie’s biggest obstacles out of the way. She was not a saint, not by an stretch of the imagination. It was tempting but it was also wrong. If she couldn’t handle a little bit of antagonism from one girl, how could she justify the difficulties that the world at large would face while they transitioned to a new, more tolerant, way of living? Thus, the tenderhearted and shaken-up blonde remained silent until her enraged counterpart disappeared; even then, the only noise she made was a dry, choking cough when her body remembered it had missed out on a great deal of air while suspended by the vampiress’s clutches.

Of course, her humiliation would not go unnoticed. Several students were crowding the hall, a few eyeing her pityingly, far more looking for routes alternate to the one Vittoria had taken and a couple of others voicing hateful slurs towards “bloodsuckers.” Flush-faced, Elodie immediately went into damage repair mode, soothing her frazzled peers at the cost of her own hurt feelings. “Poor Vittoria, I’m sure I must have startled her. I’ll have to be more careful in the future…” She plastered on her best smile, sweet but devoid of any real depth. Though it was flahed with no specific person in mind when her eyes opened they were squarely on Astor Dulani and it fell to pieces as soon as she caught his stare. Barely managing to offer him a polite nod, Elodie was suddenly much less able to offer him her usual cheerful greeting. It was bad enough, the number of times she’d made a spectacle of herself in front of him without adding another to the count. If he was less than eager to have her as his study partner before, he couldn’t have been any more thrilled about it now. Thankfully, two more distractions cropped up in the forms, one more tangible than the other, of Lucille Jennings and Calimero Valerian. The latter reached her attention first and she replied accordingly, staring at the bag she’d been clutching to herself from the moment of impact until now. “Oh…” She whispered, her voice quivering ever so slightly. Then, “Oh!” Someone was playing a joke on her and having a lot of fun doing it, Elodie thought disconcertingly. Hadn’t she just been espousing patience and tolerance to Cal on their way to Music and Fine Arts? It wouldn’t do for him to realize just how rattled she was. Forcing the corners of her lips higher than before, she laughed gently and held out his bag with a sheepish duck of her head. “Sorry, Cal! I’m having a hard time paying attention today, I guess.”

The passing period’s rapid progression meant that her fellow malakhim didn’t have the luxury of staying, nor did many of the other bystanders to her run-in with the cranky vampiress. Once they were alone, Professor Jennings jumped straight to business – throwing the already flustered girl for another loop. That explained the sudden substitution of Professor Sunsparkles in her previous class; Professor Meier’s disappearance was tucked into the back of her mind, to be pondered at a quieter moment. Marigold Chase had been abundantly clear, making Elodie promise over and over not to exert herself too much. But “assistant” sounded like a harmless enough term, what was the worst that could happen? “I’d love to be your assistant, Professor Jennings!” She beamed back, managing to maintain the expression even as the issue of shapehifting was brought up again. “Tuesday sounds perfect.” Was her immediate reply. Her apparent enthusiasm was less a matter of learning how to do something she had no idea if she could actually do and more due to the fact that it meant one less study hall with a certain stoic vampire who was fond of witnessing her most humiliating moments. The specter’s lack of footsteps and her own unusual reticence allowed the gentle tick of her old-fashioned wristwatch to draw her attention. “Uhm…Professor? Dueling is starting soon. We should get going, don’t want to be late.”

It was then that Elodie noticed the small briefcase situated at the ghost's feet. Without being asked, she slung her backpack to its proper place, freeing her hands to carry the object for her Professor. "Lead the way." The chipper blonde declared, following the transparent woman and even going so far as to wait for her when she seemed to forget that Elodie could not phase through walls as she could. Despite this lack of physical presence, the student was careful to shield Professor Jennings and herself from the rain with the umbrella she'd tucked into her backpack, proving that it never hurt to be too prepared. Very soon the pair were in the field; a good distance away from the school and much closer to the forest surrounding it. The overcast sky gave everything a grey tinge -- including Elodie's own reddened face at the sight of, her jarringly quiet roommate, the werewolf she'd managed to upset during Trigonometry and the very vampire whose presence seemed to cause her pulse to skyrocket with nerves among the decently-sized and occasionally shivering bunch. A bunch that, according to the roster Elodie had already begun to fill, included one too many. A quick count of raised hands revealed the odd-one-out.

"Excuse me?" She asked of the only individual unaccounted for. "I don't see you on the list of students for Dueling...are you sure you have the right class?" Apparently he didn't and as the boy made for the gym the blonde silently wished him good luck. Although she couldn't help but think that perhaps she should have saved some for herself.

Situated...: Outside Lecture Hall A/The Field

Interacting With...:
Icy Sapphire
Look, she managed not to crush his heart!

Mysterious Sign Painter
I tried not to include too much interaction while managing to account for the nerves induced by his ASTORSTARE.

Hanna Ananas
I hope I didn’t godmod too much. I tried to set us up for previously discussed plot points but let me know if I need to edit!

pontmercies
That last post was lovely my dear 8D But now the fun begins ./WATCHES CHARLIE AND ASTOR GO AT IT

BlackAndWhiteIsClassic
I left it open for that Mirai thing we talked about. Cries. Sorry for not waiting for you to post.


Wearing...: This

Feeling...: Humiliated

OOC...: ((Finished this up while OMW to work and posting on the app, so, sorry for any typos on the last paragraph or so. I’ll embolden any of the remaining dialog when I get home/get bored. I'd edited them in but I swipes out and lost it so now I don't wanna, cries.

Edit: Fixed weird spacing + addition bolding + SWIPED*))

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            ♩♪ Set the Scene! {Gives You Hell} ♫♬
            ╔═══════════════════════════════╗

            Where? My Office / The Gym
            With who? Bunch of idiot children
            Feeling? Groggy
            Only Other Conniption {Hanna and I wrote this lovely piece of work together. Better enjoy it, maggots.}

            ╚═══════════════════════════════╝


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            ➣tabOut of all locations he could have possibly died at, Adam Berkovic had never expected to be brutally offed in the middle of his workplace cafeteria. Not before reaching the buffet table’s murderously carbo-loaded offerings, anyway. The specter that appeared before him was familiarly obnoxious, her voice possessing a trite, resounding quality ala The Ghost of Chanukah Past.

            "She killed us all, you know. Meier, Landon... Me."

            “You’re already dead, moron.” Berkovic replied with a derisive snort, rolling his eyes at the transparent narrator of his dreams. Her message was unnerving, but not as much as the sudden pain around his neck. Before he could so much as name his attacker, she was pressing him against the wall with her pale, well-manicured hands -- fangs inching closer and closer to his neck all the while.Everything was as the scientist feared; years of slaving away in the laboratory had done nothing to prevent his dying at the hands of a filthy shedim. And the pain... It was as if molten silver had been pumped into his veins and called down a bolt of lightning from the skies to finish him off in a nice, golden crisp. Hell, he could practically hear the thunder rumbling in mockery of his demise. Actually, he did hear thunder, come to think of it. Thunder, and something a bit more electronic -- like the buzzing of an intercom or the alarm of a cellular phone. What kind of heroic signal to the beginning of the war to avenge his death was this? There should have been trumpets, beating drums, the wails of all the women he would never fondle at the very least!

            When the Israeli returned to the conscious world the first thing that he noticed was that he had somehow slid from his desk chair mid-nap and curled up beneath it. The position was only slightly less comfortable than his five-by-five jail cell’s flat, smelly, mattress. He gave his hair a casual rake back with one hand as he crawled out and into a standing position. A quick glance at the clock revealed that he was, in fact, ten minutes late for his next class. Not that he particularly cared. Really, if his job wasn’t so closely tied to his prison sentence he would have no qualms over ditching the thing altogether. His dear friend Representative Chase was doing his best to squash the wars for good, so why had the school’s blood-loving headmistress insisted on classes like Combat and Weapons anyway? Bah. Downing the piss-warm remnants of his midafternoon coffee, the dark-haired man tried not to think about missing “Malicious Malakhim Attacks” His arrival to the Gym was slowed not just by his lazy pace but by his having to go back to his suite to fetch an umbrella, realize it was broken and snatch another from a passing student. Sadly, he arrived to a soaked and sorry bunch of loafers who were already buzzing about the possibility to ditch.

            “The incompetence of anyone still standing when I start attendance will cost the person BEHIND them a full letter grade. The bell rang five minutes ago (a lie, but who cared?); why aren’t any of you idiots warming up?” Although he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, Adam found there was something oddly satisfying about observing a dozen shedim slam against the floor at his command. Watching his own experiments perform the deed was only slightly less engrossing. He’d spent enough time watching the freaks train to last a lifetime. But that didn’t mean the Israeli couldn’t have a little fun.... “VALERIAN.” He snapped, sparing the malakhim only a passing glance. “I’ll expect three from you for every one that twinkle-toes behind you manages.” The frustratingly glossy-haired blonde’s unnecessarily smark-alek remark told the Berk that he had learned nothing from their encounter earlier that week. “How about eight? From you AND every other malakhim here. Hop to it!”

            It was a shame the human students had to participate in warm-ups alongside such cretins, really. Perhaps he’d send a few of them to fetch his coffee tomorrow while the rest of the class ran laps for being a general waste of his time as well as an eyesore to the members of the only decent species in this place. Teenage voices grunting with effort served as a beautiful background melody to his review of the student roster. Everyone was there and accounted for with the exception of, “Sterling? Noah Sterling?” No response. With an angry flick of his wrist he checked the boy off as absent. A malakhim, of course. This despite the fact that he could make out a figure rushing frantically towards the class. Too little, too late. But then again, what did he expect? His entire kind were totally useless unless directed by his superior intellect. Pacing the rows of bodies, he went about tapping the human students on the shoulder. The Berk’s face did not lend itself to being kind naturally but managed not to look entirely dissatisfied for once as he suggested they “Take a break.” or that they had “Done enough for now.” Eventually he relented with the other brats as well; calling them up on their feet and yawning through his instructions for the rest of the course period.

            “Today marks the start of our firearms training. If you find you have some pansy-a**, moral objection to the use of force - deal with it. This is Combat and Weapons, not Combat and Ethical Dilemmas.”

            Now, as much as Berkovic detested the genetically enhanced teens he’d churned out by the hundreds, he was not a fool enough to accidentally trigger one. Double-checking that none would be set off by loud noises (Adam was rather fond of his head’s place on his neck and wasn’t looking for a change anytime soon), he aimed the end of the pistol he oh-so-casually pulled out of his coat pocket at the nearest shedim. Are those scales? he wondered with disgust as the green-tinted idiot simply stood there. A pull of the trigger later and a loud boom joined the trickling of the raindrops falling onto the roof of the gym. It was a blank, but his point was made: this was not the place for whimpering children to piss their pants at any bang they heard. Hell, the sheer loudness of it would likely interrupt Jennings’ newly acquired dueling course. Personally, Adam was glad the ghost was stuck with the froo-froo, tactics-based course. She would have a fine time trying to educate a bunch of mongrels and monsters to think for once in their pathetic lives. The malakhim and shedim would need to learn control if they wanted the honor of living with their human counterparts. If they couldn’t, he would do his best to ensure they didn’t live, anywhere, ever.

            “This .22 caliber semi-automatic pistol is only a little more outdated than most of Mr. Valerian’s pick-up lines. While it may not be strong enough to down a charging polar bear, it can still incapacitate most sentient beings. I used a more recent model to test the permeability of malakhim skin myself...” Sighing wistfully at the passing memory of the good ol’ days of science, plentiful money and the often-scientifically-enhanced women that money bought, Adam turned the gun over in his hands. “I'm sure that the decent members of society have not seen these before, so I will provide you with a brief explanation of the parts. However, I imagine that you will want to become well acquainted with them yourselves. You will be able to find instructional booklets at the library for your use if you care to brave the questionable dressed fairies this school deems fit to call librarians. Those of you who are not human are probably accustomed to being on the opposite end of this or a similar weapon but for the sake and safety of those worthy of occupying this world, do try and avoid shooting each other in the face until we’ve left the general area.”

            Thus, Adam grudgingly began his lecture. It was simple terminology, really. Triggers, ammunition, correct hand position and the like. He criticized those who failed to take notes but also those who seemed to be taking too many - at least if they were non-human. “And that leaves this switch right here: the safety. If you fail to use it when waiting for a place at the range, you will not be treated for the wounds you receive.” The humans would master the material in little if any time at all. So he had no qualms about his next set of instructions. “That’s enough talk. If you step out the doors to your right, you’ll see a shooting range directly before you. Run to it. Be merry. Cast off the shackles of your hormone induced frustrations. Whoever has the least accurately shot target by the end of the day will be cleaning up and restocking the range facilities as well as running laps around the field. Maybe then they’ll get tired of being such massive failures. Well? What did I say? Go already! ...Just don’t slip in the mud and die; one Jennings is enough." Common sense dictated that he should follow the newly-armed students more quickly than he did, but somehow...having given weapons to the very people he’d been harshly criticizing just moments before made him want to hang back by a football field or two.


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Icy Sapphire

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Hanna Ananas

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█ ███ ████ ██████ ███████ ████████ нαzєℓ_нαммσиם_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Golden smile, You've got style that they can't take away.♪"__xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

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                                        Eventually the gym filled up with students all waiting for Berkovic to arrive. The quiet pitter-patter of raindrops on the rooftop kept Hazel's mind at ease. She was beginning to realize that rushing to make it to class on time may have been a bit of a mistake; she was already a tad breathy and the professor wasn't even there yet himself. Hopefully he first day in this class would be easy, but she couldn't predict Berkovic. He was an off one, for sure. But he seemed to like Hazel. Or, rather, he liked her humanity. She had promised herself not to abuse his preferences intentionally.

                                        Eventually the dark-haired man did enter the room and immediately began shouting orders. Hazel paid close attention to make sure she was noticed during attendance call. The Berk was just as strict now as he had been the last time she'd seen him. She gasped when he barked at them to start warming up. What did that even mean? Push-ups? Stretching? In an awkward attempt to save face, Hazel glanced around and started copying her more physically fit peers in whatever actions they were taking. Even these simplest of motions were furthering her exhaustion. How she wished she'd taken better care of her body over the years. "Please don't notice me, please don't notice me, please don't," she murmured quietly to herself as her back arched and her stomach grumbled lightly.

                                        "Take a break," Berk said with a tap on Hazel's shoulder. She let out a sigh of relief as she nodded and sat still finally. Had he noticed? Was he telling her to stop because he could see how strained she was? It was a little frightening until she saw him relieve a few other students as well -- all of them human. So this was how it would be, then. Not only would the malakhim do extra work, but the humans would do less than standard. The slightest bit of frown flashed on her face as she willingly broke her promise. It was too much for her, though. She couldn't handle too much of this right now.

                                        All eyes face forward when The Berk drew a gun on a student. Hazel knew he surely wouldn't kill or maim somebody during class hours. Right? All this stress and tension was beginning to wear her out. Her usually jovial attitude had quieted down in favor of a more panicked and shaky Hazel Hammond. A loud 'bang' rang through the room and it was closely followed by a hushed shriek from Hazel's lips. She wasn't sure if she could get used to these antics.

                                        As he went on to introduce the gun, Berkovic called out Cal for the second time this period. Hazel shot him a quick glance, hoping he wasn't taking the insults too harshly. He seemed fine, though. He was definitely much stronger -- physically and emotionally -- than she was. Hazel quickly grabbed some things from her bag and started to jot down some notes. She hastily drew a quick sketch of the gun in Berkovic's hand and worked on labeling each part he mentioned. Drawing and taking notes calmed her down a good bit until she finally felt her lips curve into a sideways grin. 'A photograph would be a lot more helpful,' she thought. Hopefully allowing her to take one would be a fair request. She tried to polish off her drawing, blocking out any of the instructor's racist comments as she focused only on the educational material.

                                        Hazel had never seen a gun before. Not in person, at least. They seemed so dangerous. People with conditions like hers had been known to take to violence and danger. It would be untruthful to say she hadn't entertained the thought of a bullet in her head, her finger on the trigger. She did her best to dismiss those kinds of thoughts these days. She was better now. She was healthy. 'Almost...'

                                        Hazel was shocked to hear that Berkovic was already trusting them to wield and fire these weapons outdoors. Was he crazy? What was stopping someone from killing someone else -- from killing him? His confidence and arrogance astounded her, but in a way she admired it. The man wasn't afraid of anything, it seemed. She shuffled her things back into her bag and waited for the others to start heading out first. She wanted to stay back and ask the teacher about taking a photo or two of the weapons they'd be using. He'd mentioned earlier looking for books in the library, but her camera produced more immediate results.

                                        Then, as she stepped out into the middle of it, she remembered it was raining. No sense trying to use her camera outdoors. Perhaps she'd become better acquainted with the weaponry simply from firing and watching others do the same. She followed her classmates through the mud and the wet -- 'Note to self: Umbrella tomorrow.' -- not bothering right now to speak to anyone she knew.

                                        When they eventually reached the firing range, Hazel fell into line near Cal and gave a gentle wave accompanied by a polite grin.He was the person she recognized the best in this school, whether they were actually friends or not. Perhaps being near him would help calm her as they practiced with the weapons. Hazel knew Berkovic wouldn't assign the punishment he'd threatened for inaccuracy to a human, so she wasn't entirely worried with missing the target herself. She thought, though, that he may be easier on Cal if she was standing beside him. It was a fair theory, she thought.

                                        The first shot fired made her gasp again. Then she sighed away the chills and waited for her turn.

                                        As Hazel packed up to leave at the end of the period, she took a deep breath and glanced over at her work. She'd been shaky and nervous with the gun in her hand. It felt so unnatural. Hitting the target was a simple enough task once she had composed herself, but none of her shots landed with any sort of accuracy. Maybe it was a skill she'd develop over time. She hoped that was the case if this was going to affect her grades.


Quote:
Whereabouts: Combat & Weapons
Attire: This
Company: Berk + Students
Out of Character: Nyeh. Couldn't tell from the Berk post if we were given guns or if they would be found at the firing range. I can edit this in any way if I need to. :3

AvalonWitch
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Don't listen to a word I say.
The screams all sound the same


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L u c i ℓ ℓ εxxxxɪ.xxxxJ ε η η i n g s
Ғormεrℓy Humąη

╬══→ | wer: Miss Chase & the rest of dueling class | wo: The Field | musik:♫ ♬ |


Though the truth may vary,
This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore.


xxxx

Given that she was many centuries old and therefore knew exactly how difficult things ought to be, Lucille Jennings found she could say with absolute certainty that leaving the German classroom each day for Duelling was going to be a pain in her transparent a**. Already the Herculean task was proving hard -- trying to catch Elodie up with teaching plans only to be interrupted by the fact that the girl was incapable of floating through floors was a pain the ghost wouldn’t wish upon anyone.

She’d been getting a lot of those pains lately.

Although she hadn’t wanted to complain -- really, her job was quite comfortable -- Lucille could not ignore the fact that the materials left for her by Meier were incomplete and ill-kept at best. She had been shuffling through the fae’s papers as best as she could throughout the day and had found they had possessed neither hide nor hair of anything that looked even remotely similar to a lesson plan involving strategy or taking advantage of opponents’ weaknesses. This conundrum was, of course, addressed immediately by the ghost in a stroke of genius that she explained to her assistant as they (slowly) made their way to the athletics fields.

Once the bell rang and her class was well in sight, Lucille began to take (or rather, attempted to take) attendance. Despite her formidable concentration, the trickle of ghostly energy at her feet returned naught but grass when she tried to summon her clipboard. Though frustrating, it really wasn’t much of a surprise that Miss Chase had taken hold of the situation. Hell, it was probably for the best. She was much nicer than Lucille would have been to the misplaced malakhim who was now bumbling toward Professor Berkovic’s class.

As the roll call finished up, the ghost hoped her colleague wouldn’t trust the boy with weaponry. Doing so was just begging for an accident.

Turning to face her class, Lucille asked for her students’ undivided attention, her firm tone making it more of a demand than a request. They quieted down soon enough; whether it was out of confusion or fear made little difference. Dulani looked happy enough to see her -- provided his usual stoic indifference could be counted as such. Like Miss Chase, the vampire was smart. He likely anticipated the news that was due to be shared.

“To the handful of those I haven’t yet had in class, I am Professor Jennings. Your previous instructor, Liesel Meier, will not be returning.”

If she had expected anything less than a shocked gasp from the fae in the class, Lucille would have been sorely disappointed. She shushed them with a gentle gesture, then continued speaking as if the interruption had never occurred.

“If I ever receive word on what became of her, I will let you know.”

“Now, I don’t know what that fairy told you, but the purpose of this course is to train you to think quickly and efficiently when placed in a difficult situation. I will teach you how to assess your opponents and how to use strategy; how you apply that knowledge is entirely your choice.”

“What this course is not is a training program to increase your physical strength. If your only reason for being here is your wish to be a sweaty, grunting idiot, head inside to administration and ask for a transfer into Combat and Weapons. I am not Meier. Unless your talent lies in your speed, you should not expect to be running laps each day.”

Lucille allowed a brief pause at that, hoping that her students would be able to process the heap of information being thrown at them. She hadn’t planned on teenagers taking to change without protest, so it came as a bit of a shock that they were being so… silent.

“Does everyone have a notebook with them? Good. Now, under my watchful eye, you will be focusing on honing four very important battle traits: strength, speed, intelligence, and experience. As you can see from the sheet Miss Chase is passing out, I had our resident quack, Nurse Reed, rank you against your classmates in each category based on your personal files. Granted, I should have done it myself to ensure accuracy; however, when I floated out of bed this morning, I was still under the impression I was a Shapeshifting professor.”

While the class busied itself with not laughing at her attempt at humor, Lucille frowned down at the rankings sheet near her own hands. She hadn’t had much of a chance to look the papers over after removing them from her staff mailbox, but it was quickly becoming evident that Reed had visited one too many fairy circles in her youth. Hopefully the students wouldn’t notice.

“In the off-chance some of you are illiterate, the listed rankings are as follows. In Speed, the fastest student is Astor Dulani, followed by Charlie Miller, Martin Bichon, Evelyn Pierce, Lara Glimmerwing, Samuel Corinx, Albert Wiley, and lastly Elodie Chase.”

“In Intelligence, Miss Chase comes out on top, Dulani, Wiley, Glimmerwing, Pierce, Corinx, Miller, and Bichon. Mr. Wiley, I don’t believe we’ve met, but I think you’re on the attendance list for Calculus.”

Catching his professor’s cue just a second late, the boy in question nodded with violent enthusiasm toward Lucille while she continued on to the rankings for the Experience category.

“From most to least experienced, the list reads places Dulani in first, then Pierce, Miller, Corinx, Bichon, Wiley, Glimmerwing, and Chase. No surprise to see you at the top again, Mister Dulani, that’s for certain.”

“Finally, we have the Strength category. It somehow places Chase in first, followed by Dulani, Miller, Glimmerwing, Corinx, Bichon, Pierce, and Wiley… And then Chase? I’m not sure how you can be both first and last, Miss Chase, but I suppose we’ll iron out these kinks as we go. After all… Nurse Reed can only blame herself for any wounds received due to mistakes in sorting.”

Sighing the sigh of the long-suffering woman, Lucille returned her papers to Meier’s old binder -- all the while making a mental note to give Nurse Reed a piece of her passive-aggressive mind. If the human’s little prank got a student killed, it would (figuratively) be Lucille’s head on the line, not hers. Worst of all, her paycheck from Aevum wouldn’t even begin to cover the astronomical legal fees such an accident would incur!

There would be a time to worry about that later, of course. At the moment, there was a pack of teenagers mulling about, just waiting for instruction.

“I cannot possibly observe four events at once, so we will only be focusing on speed and strength this afternoon. Doing so will allow us a day free of physical activity this week. Would Misters Dulani and Miller please meet at the starting line of the track? Bichon and Pierce, if you would please follow them and prepare yourselves for a three mile race. Be sure to grab stopwatches and a log book to record the results of your heats.”

Not bothering to breathe before moving on, Lucille shoved additional class materials into Pierce’s arms and sent the four children on their way. She would join them later, after the funny business with Elodie was sorted out.

“That just leaves Corinx, Chase, Glimmerwing, and Wiley. Are you bunch ready for one-on-one tug of war?"

When no answer was given, the ghost shoved the remaining students towards a thick rope on the ground. Traditionally, the beast of a thing would have been used for climbing or docking boats, but it would have to do for the day. It wasn’t as if Meier would have purchased anything better, right?

"Chase, I know Nurse Reed thinks you're a professional weightlifter, but I'm considering placing you against Corinx for this first round, as he's positively average for a werewolf. Do you find that permissible? You may sit out if you wish to do so, but that leaves someone without an opponent."

Once Elodie consented to the match, Lucille smiled and raised her arms to the gray sky. With the clouds pregnant and dark as they were, the students would have no trouble noticing her signal for their matches to begin.

“Children!” she screamed. “Ready yourselves! On your marks… Get set… Go!”




Q u o t i n gxxxx the xxxx g o d s :
AvalonWitch

BlackAndWhiteIsClassic

pontmercies

Mysterious Sign Painter

starpocalypse

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                                      Vittoria Eudoxia Lane is currently in the gym with her classmates and Professor Berkovic and feeling about ready to break some heads.


                                      Any class with Professor Berkovic promised to be terrible from its outset. The fact that the rain was making almost the entire school smell of wet dog did the opposite of lessening the blow. It almost made Vittoria hate werewolves more than Malakhim or humans. Not that one would really be able to tell much of a difference between her levels of hatred when she seemed to hate everything other than herself and maybe the occasional attractive man with such enthusiasm. Perhaps, in that regard, the beautiful-but-sour vampire really was an equal opportunist.

                                      It mattered little. She was wet from the trip it had taken to get to the gym, she had a headache from her earlier run-in with Elodie, and she was being expected to lower and debase herself through exercise—alongside humans and Malakhim and other, inferior Shedim, no less. Naturally, Vittoria could positively conquer any and all challenges she was presented with (or so she said and so she asserted as far as vampirically possible—and let’s face it that was pretty damn far).

                                      Things stopped being quite so simple, however, the further they got into the class. It was easy enough to tone out Berkovic’s droning, and as aggravating as it had been to do endless amounts of pushups (his favoritism was its own level of blatant) that she had objection to written clear across her expression, it wasn’t as if physical exertion bothered her cold, immortal body. Of course she knew how to handle a gun. Even if she hadn’t been as absolutely brilliant as she happened to be, what were the odds that anyone who had lived the life span that she had hadn’t become learned in such fields at some point or another—not like she needed to use a gun, mind you, and not that she at all preferred to. In all honesty, she found the things positively tasteless and lacking in elegance. Everything Vittoria did, she did with a precisely calculated level of style. Including tearing out the throats of her enemies—especially tearing out the throats of her enemies. Meticulously manicured nails as a murder weapon would never come second to a firearm in terms of grace.

                                      Though Berkovic would have surely liked to think so, Vittoria was not an idiot. For all the calm poise in which she took her weapon and tramped with pursed lips behind the other students toward the shooting range, what was going to happen next was not lost on her for even a second. She could, after all, hear the heartbeats of each and every student that surrounded her, thrumming in her ears and practically begging her to feast. It was agony, in more ways than one, and part of the reason why she hadn’t been able to fully shake the headache she had been boasting since her initial arrival to the school. If something as innocuous as a few dozen heartbeats sounded like a marching band in her skull, what did a few dozen rounds of gunfire promise to sound like?

                                      The one blank that the Professor had aimed at one of the other Shedim in class had been painful enough as it was. Part of Vittoria wished he had aimed it at her—it would have been nice to snap his wrist for the insolence. But then, perhaps not. As satisfying as it would have been, she hardly wanted to cause two scenes in one day. Getting expelled was not part of her agenda. Well, any form of failure wasn’t part of her agenda, really.

                                      As expected, the gunfire did the exact opposite of ease the pounding in her skull. In fact, Vittoria felt ill—not quite similar to how sun exposure could make her feel, but regardless it took effort to hold her arm as steady as she would have liked to as she aimed at the target in front of her. The vampire didn’t fire right away—the hesitation unusual in one so confident in her abilities. Nobody would pity her—she didn’t expect or want pity—and in fact found herself mentally counting down the minutes until Berkovic sauntered up behind her to make a snipe. Vittoria tried to push past the pain, halfway wondering if she’d be deaf before the end of the class, and tried to still the dizzy tremors that fired down her limbs to the best of her ability before making her shot.

                                      The kickback she could handle without so much as a flinch. The noise, like the rest, made her eyes narrow and a hiss escape through her teeth (not that anyone was likely to hear over the noise; even without vampire-level senses it was more than just a little loud) Vittoria was hoping for a perfect shot.

                                      Naturally, it wasn’t what she got. What she got…definitely wasn’t terrible. Even feeling nauseated, she had more experience holding a weapon than she couldn’t help but assume half the class. Nonetheless, Vittoria was never pleased or satisfied with anything short of perfection.

                                      As much as it pained her, she’d keep at it to the best of her hindered ability for as long as she was able. Even if it meant needing to make a concentrated and continuous effort to stay firmly on her feet.



avalonwitch

hanna ananas

jortlus

blackandwhiteisclassic
Gaia Forums » GAIA Community » Barton Town (Role Play) » University/School RolePlay

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