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Mantodea could not live on spiders alone. Supposedly. Even Yǐn Cáng was beginning to tire of the treat, and most of the webs had been cleared from his room. These thoughts slowly trickled through his mind as he went through the flowing steps of Tai Chi, the slow movements almost as natural to him as fighting. He finished the routine on and began to clean up.

He had been here for less than a week, but other than his trips to and from the gymnasium (and the nurses' office) he had not yet explored the school. The school building would hold his classrooms, and he knew he should familiarize himself with room numbers before Moonday. And while he was out he could try to find the Creepateria. When he had been enrolled, due to his finances (basically his complete lack of seeds of any sort), they had informed him that he was eligible for free meals there.

He slipped on his shirt, the sleeveless garment going on like a vest and then tied it on, a thin band going around twice and tying on his skull pin. Thus prepared he quickly made his way out of the Monster dorm and began to head toward Amityville High at a brisk walk.

The initial "hey" had been completely lost on the weremantis. He had heard it, but knowing basically no one at the school did not believe for a second that someone was calling out to him.

The second call, a little louder, and with that hint of need to it, roused him out of his "Go to from Point A to Point B" stupor. He turned to see a boil with gray hair and glowing green eyes heading toward him, requesting help. He glanced from side to side to make sure that the boil was talking to him before replying.

"I am also new to the school," he said almost apologetically. "I was just going down Amityville High to look around, but if you are going somewhere specific I will try to help."

Yǐn Cáng stared at the offered hand for a moment, wondering what the boil was doing. Then he remembered back, to when he was traveling to Amityville. He had seen others take each others hands and move them up and down. Gingerly he reached out with one large hand, a hand that seemed to big for his frame, grasped "Elle's" hand, and moved it up and down. He then quickly released it and put his hands behind his back.

"It is a pleasure to meet you El Greco. I prefer to call you by whatever name you wish. My name is Yǐn Cáng." He pronounced the name slowly so the other could hear how the accents rose and fell in is name. "If you would like you could join me during my exploration of the school."

With each mis-pronunciation of his name, Yǐn Cáng was set a little more on edge. His fingers were flexing and one eye actually twitched by the time the ghost had moved on. The boil claimed to have memory problems, so perhaps he could not remember how to pronounce it. "Its Yǐn," he corrected, holding out the syllables just so. "Yǐn Cáng."

He hoped that was enough to penetrate the boil's mind, but what if those repetitions had already sunk in? What if he was stuck with Yin, a name which had a completely different meaning than his own, things like "feminine" and "moon."

He tried to smile, though it looked more like a grimace, and answered the boil's question. "I arrived here less than a week ago after spending approximately one month on my own after leaving my clan. Since then things have been interesting. I have yet to take a class however." He did not want to tell a stranger too much about his past and sped up just a little to try to limit talking. Though he was not certain if a ghost could even get out of breath.

Yǐn smiled with approval at his name, revealing a tidy row of sharp teeth.

"I do not know what classes I am looking for. I will probably take any course that is an entry level class, as well as any fighting course I am eligible for." Truth be told he was not looking forward to many classes. If they had more than one textbook he probably would avoid it as long as possible.

"Any sort of practical, hands-on course will be at the top of my desired courses. But to be honest I do not know all that the school offers. Perhaps we can find some form of schedule or list?" They were nearing the building now, and as they reached the door the mantis boil sped up just a touch more so that he could open the door, politely holding it open for the other boil to pass. Holding doors open is not as bad when you have a choice, he realized.

Yǐn Cáng tried not to visibly cringe as he followed him into the building. In the darkened corridor he could see hints of glowing green from the ghost, green that went past his eyes.

It was rather obvious the boil had not fought, or at least had not been trained. His posture was all wrong, and the blows would have left open several openings he easily could have taken advantage of. But the dissipating, that was intriguing. He looked on, blatantly curious. "That seems to be a useful skill, it would be difficult to land blows on someone who was not there. The style of fighting I use has an emphasis on speed, but even so it is difficult to avoid all attacks."

He drew his eyes away and looked around, eyeing their surroundings. "I believe that hallway leads to the nurses' office, but if we go straight we may encounter the main office. I was only in this building briefly the other day however, and I cannot be certain."

"One must learn how to protect what is important," Yǐn Cáng replied. "Where I grew up it was not an option for me, but I enjoyed the training."

But I was trained so I could protect females. Now...what do I fight for? Yǐn Cáng pushed the unpleasant thoughts from his mind, not wishing to dwell on them just yet.

Wishing to push the focus away from himself he latched onto what his companion had said. "You pursue the arts? What is your area of expertise?"

"Being born is not too important," the mantodae said with a light shrug. It was not as if being born had changed his existence. Sure, he had been born. He had grown up in Halloween. That did not mean that he had a family, or that he actually knew about Halloween, if the hunters were any indication.

But the arts, paintings, for one with a calling that was a very important aspect. Master artists were well prized for their skills, and many females learned some art form or another. He was unsure of what the boil was doing with his hands, perhaps it was like using one's thumb to gain perspective.

The question was slightly unexpected. Me? Teach? Then he recalled the fight he had witnessed. The strength that other students had had. The gaping holes in their defenses they had left open. His spar with Sparrow. Yes, training could certainly be used at this school. "I could attempt to train you. If you can become intangible your fighting style may be one that you make for your own, but I can at least teach you how to correctly throw a punch.