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He didn't want to be in this building. Not to say it was an utterly horrible and disgusting place, because it was to Invictus, but it was certainly not as nasty as some of the other places he had seen previously. It was human free as well. Humans were at least somewhat interesting to watch; language, culture, and other strange wrenches that would throw themselves into their little gears.

Horrible, rusty, creaky, noisy, nasty gears.

Invictus's eyes flickered up, settling on the secretary with a firm leer, almost seeming to vibrate as the thing-posing-as-a-man spoke, though no other part of the man's posture twitched as his eyes did. His control over his irritation was astounding (then again, his other extremes had been witnessed by fewer students than those who attended the school overall). The thought did not go through his head without at least being carefully set aside, as though he would need it for reference later.

He looked at the papers that were being offered forward to them, his lips tightening ever so slightly as the idea of possibly... 'showing off' came to mind. The edge of one of the application forms twitched ever so slightly, lifting up before the horseman's fingers even touched it, holding it up to look over it.

"I am Invictus, son of the rider Conquest." he said firmly, eyes narrowing slightly, before he reached out again, holding his hand over the pencil on the desk, the small object rising without an ounce of hesitation to the boy's palm, remaining there even until his hand had turned palm up.

Paperwork was a pesky thing. Always ever so pesky. Frankly from the look on his face, Invictus didn't want to fill out the form. Clearly someone of higher stock than himself, or someone he respected highly, would have to be influencing him to make him do something he did not want to do.

The heir of Death remained as impartial to her surroundings as the impartial and consuming fact that death was inevitable in every life. Every life was born to die. Death led to rebirth. But there was a time and place to die .. and while some might have expired under Headmistress Hellma's gaze, it was not yet time for the horsemen to do so.

It was simply time for them to move on to the next assignment.

The raven-haired woman was standing, leaning against the wall. In comparison to Conquest's bright green or War's crimson colors, this woman stood in a dramatically darker tone of color beside them. Her chin tipped upwards, black hair thrown behind her shoulder, falling down her back in twin tailed ripples. Her feathers fell over her front and back majestically, although as to what kind of feathers they were, nobody ever knew. Some rumored it to come from a phoenix .. Some said it was a gryphon. But nothing was confirmed or denied. The black beauty's legs crossed, one over the other, the red skirt falling over one knee to reveal a generous expanse of skin on her other leg. Her armored boots seemed to accentuate a hint of danger with the sensual view, with it's sharply armored edges and stiletto heels. Her torn skirt, tightened by the skulls around her waist fell in folds that folded around her thigh as she shifted and glanced at the room's occupants.

One gloved hand extended forward to extract one of the four papers from the desk, purple eyes focusing on the seemingly incompetent secretary that caught War's attention. Had War found herself a new target to focus on? It seemed as if she had.

Her finger ran down the form, identifying the application form with a brief scan of purple eyes. She held out her hand expectantly, waiting for the pencil. But when the pencil didn't come, she looked upwards to lift an eyebrow at Invictus's delay. "Connie, the clan has already discussed this prior, have they not? Your delay only slows the inevitable process down-- Or is conquest of the pencil all you have in mind?" She asked, the corner of her mouth lowering further to deepen her frown.

"Heir to the rider of death, Aisa." She spoke up when it was clear that the pencil would not yet make it's way toward her.

Tap. Tap.

The headmistress was getting a bit impatient at her future slaves' tools' staff's little antics. Famine's little explorations and War's mild flirting did nothing to improve her mood. One long, shimmering appendage gripped the ruler tighter, but in an admirable show of restraint, Hellma refrained from throwing it anyone's head. She settled for tapping the table again. Hard.

Snap.

"You are not so useful, you, that I will put up with the bullshit. Get it signed or go back and wallow in madness like dogs in filth, but do not waste my time."

It was Famine's appearance that brought back the unpleasant memories swirling through Death's mind. The insanity was still going strong, often forcing Death to focus abruptly to keep her mind from straying too far into delightful images of doom and gloom. The ends of her red skirt fluttered and snapped whenever the stray black strings of madness sought to tug her back in. Black strings started to line her vision, layering with a forcibly suppressed speed, her vision struggling to clear.

The headmistress's loud crack of her ruler brought Aisa nicely back into reality-- Aisa's eyebrows creased just the tiniest bit, hardly noticeable, as the melody of whispers faded to a low volume in her ears. She threw her hair back over one shoulder, as if to try and dispel the low hum that seemed to vibrate throughout the room.

Not that it wasn't a delicious sound to her ears, the humming of a rough and vibrant melody that promised further adventure and excitement if Aisa listened to it long enough. But no time would ever be long enough to satisfy her.

"You're not much bigger, Famine." Aisa remarked, her slight smile and eyes lighting with amusement from Famine's tactics. Her skulls even gave the appearance of laughing with their toothy grins and the way they bobbed up and down when Aisa tipped her bosom low to briefly glance at Famine's unidentifable signature of agreement. With War's ongoing battle of misplaced attraction (Eris, in that chair, that ice demon looked shorter then you,) Aisa stepped forward towards Connie to retrieve the small wooden object.

The signature she displayed was a single but coarsely written "D," followed with the drawing of an equally rough skull. There might have been holes stabbed in the page to make eyes for the skull.. Or Death had never been adept at writing lightly on paper. She had never been into formalities like Connie but was only slightly more meticulous and legible than Famine's. Only the briefest bit--- Since her signature didn't constitute of much either. Her gloved hand flicked the pencil, throwing it to Eris in a casual swift motion like lighting a lighter or flipping a coin.

With a careless flick and a well-trained twist of her hand, the paper was sent fluttering and landing on the desk that harbored the explosive headmistress.

At the sharp snap of the ruler, Famine's heir hardly reacted. It took a second before her head tilted in a crazy parody of innocent curiosity. Wallow in madness? Never. She didn't need to wallow, it oozed and pulsed through her as thickly as blood and marrow, and had become a part of her just as surely. Did filth become a part of the dogs that carried it, or did they dissolve into it? Musing on that thought the ghoul started giggling once again, finding whatever thoughts passing through her head to be both relevant to the current discussion and amusing.

Once she had calmed down, she smiled brightly and replied to Aisa as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "You noticed! I have decided to wear false hooves on my feet that give me extra bones on which to stand on, instead of crawling about on my ankles. The click click is becoming more pleasant the taller I get."

The ghoul paused, and silently watched Eris sign the papers as though posed with a great riddle. No sooner had the heir of War finished singing, than she plucked the pencil out of her grasp. "Lovely~" she mimicked, and picked up a sheet to sign it a second time without checking to see whether it was her own. This time the scribbles were a bit longer, a bit more legible, perhaps a haiku about horns with split ends... And then signed a slightly more legible name. Cymbeline. And then more doodles that may have been Hellma and Arel, or vice versa, clearly it would be best to remove the pencil entirely.

If possible said "snowflake" had gotten shorter, visibly shorter, to the point where only his antlers seemed to be sticking out. The strange rustling sound thankfully reassured everyone else in the room that no, their secretary had not melted yet, and was instead doing the routine scuffling for bits and pieces of papers that might have been lost in the transaction. Something about being "ungrateful" and "more work" might have also been uttered during the debacle.

"Horsemen - and women, if you please," They paused long enough to stare just eye-level over the counter top. "Yes, signatures, you will, for now, be staying at our luxurious dorm rooms, there are spare rooms in the demon dorms after a couple of our visitors had a certain mishap involving... err, anyway... yes. Rooms." They trailed off entirely, simply muttering, finally getting back on their feet, and opening the door behind them, pausing for a second to see if anyone else was moving. "Well hurry on now, to your rooms. Don't forget to fill entirely in the forms I gave you before you head down there. And.. try not to break anything, please." There was a hint of desperation in the last word.



((OOC:

- ALL HORSEMEN, please head over the the student questing thread to post your [ENROLLMENT] forms! Please don't forget to drop them off HERE when you are ready!
- AFTER your character has been approved, you are free to set up dorms! For now the horsemen will be dorming with the Demon dorms, but please set up their dorm title as [HORSEMEN] thank you!
- You will be further contacted if any other GM action is required! ))