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Grave walked into the Teacher's Lounge, and let the heavy wooden door swing closed behind him, brushing over the soft velvety carpet and closing without a sound. Before him, small groups of students had already arrived, and were clustered around various Professors and Professoras...
A small group of dewy-eyed young boysand girls were clustered around Dameron, who was reading in a captivating voice to them from his little book. A single student, a girl who seemed a little older than the rest sat in deep conversation with an old-looking professor with curled ram's horns and a long feathered serpent tail. Grave over-heard her refer to him by the name Eleuthero. Other students were clustered here and there, and Grave was overcome with indecision.
There were still a few teachers that were unengaged, and many that he did not recognize. Who to speak to first??

While Grave stood looking fretfully between teachers, running a silent eenie-meenie-miny-mo in his head he caught sight of a fellow student out of the corner of his eye. The girl was small and slim, like he, and clearly Melancholic. She had tumbling waves of dark hair that half-hid her face in an alluring manner. Grave could feel himself staring, and averted his eyes. He wracked his brains. No, he had not seen her before this moment, he would have remembered her in one of those classrooms. There was no way he could forget such a beautiful face. Grave swallowed and hazarded a glance at her from under his hair, and saw to his surprise that she was nodding her head towards him in greeting. Grave swallowed. Well, now or never.
Gathering his composure he moved towards her, dodging students and drew up, offering a short bow when he reached her. "Hello. My name is Grave. Are you new as well?" He asked, speaking a little louder than he would have liked so that he could be heard above the din in the room. Don't be so sullen, don't be so stiff, he admonished himself. There's something missing, something you're supposed to do, look pleasant...ah, of course! And Grave reminded himself to smile. It was a small smile, but genuine and hopeful, and leant a twinkle to his otherwise calculating blue eyes.

Grave took the slender hand that was so gracefully extended to him. He realized he was staring intently at her, taking her in like drinking from a glass. He was enchanted by the waves of dark hair as they curled against pale skin, her smoldering eyes - or at least, the one that was visible - that so sharply matched her dress. Grave checked hiself, Stop staring, always so obsessed with beauty as if you could claim it for yourself...it is no possession to be won. Grave chided himself mentally and allowed himself to smile again and took her delicate hand in his own and, of a sudden - by some half-forgotten impulse - he bent his lips to her fingers and kissed the hand. M'lady... it danced in his mind's eye, this concept, like a silver chain, light and beautiful. Grave liked the idea, the interaction. He hoped she would not mind. At length he spoke.
His voice was cool, but not off-putting. He had a smooth cadence to his voice - almost as if his words should have been accented, but they were clear and perfectly annunciated. "Today was my first day here as well. Have you had a chance to attend any of the classes yet?" They were intriguing, fascinating, compelling! he wanted to rant and rave. Grave forced his inner voice to calm and behave itself. He forced himself to concentrate only on the beautiful flower-of-a-girl before him in her lovely blossom-of-a-dress.

Grave's smooth face lit up at the mention of a Library. His eyes danced with light, and his smile seemed more natural somehow, as if opening a window into his mind. Grave stepped closer, their hands still interlocked between them and asked fervently. "Do you love books as dearly as I do? We shall go there, together, you and I. I came here to meet the rest of my professors. I'm very interested to see what other sorts of classes are offered here. I jut have so many questions, I don't know where to start." Grave turned elegantly at her side, his arm slipping around the crook of her elbow and made a gesture to the seated teachers on the far wall of the room. "Who should we talk to first? Pick one, Arwen." Grave was elated to have met her, and was swiftly growing enchanted with the slender Melancholic. He was so drawn to her, that Grave's only concern was keeping her by his side, somehow. Here - at last - was a kindred spirit.

Grave followed Arwen's indication and set his sights on an excruciatingly beautiful woman. Bellona had long curling waves of black hair that poured over the seat on which she sat and curled in delicate ringlets upon the floor. She was finishing up with a student - a Phlegmatic boy - who bowed deeply and then turned to leave. Bellona watched himleave with penetrating eyes. Her beauty was captivating, but severe. Grave glanced at Arwen and smiled. 'Some day, she'll be even more beautiful than our Professora...' he mused to himself. Still with his arm interlocked with his new classmate, Grave stepped forward across the room and bowed to the teacher the way he'd seen the Phlegmatic boy do.
"Good day, Professora..." Grave trailed off, suddenly realizing he was unaware ofher name.
"Bellona, youngling. I am Professora Bellona. What can I do for you?" Grave glanced up at the sound of the woman's voice. It was deep, and rich, and layered with a kind of vibration as if she were crystal resonating with some far-off sound. Grave was breath-taken. The woman's hard eyes had warmed considerably, seeing two of her favourite type of Empyrean before her. To Grave she looked like a Queen upon a throne. It was all he could do to not kneel at her feet.
"We're new to the School, Madam. For me, I had my first day of classes today. I was wondering...What do you teach?"
Bellona gave a gracious smile, like one who knows they are about to impart a great gift. "Why Youngling, I teach Magic. The very arts upon which this hall of learning is based and designed. Magic." Grave's eyes went as big as saucers and the smile that broke over his face was more brilliant than any that preceded it. He turned to Arwen, as if to say: Brilliant choice, my friend!

Professora Bellona surveyed the two children before her. With such similar builds and facial features, the two might have been Echoes...but Bellona pushed that delicious thought from her mind and focused on their questions.
"I honestly couldn't say, Youngling. Although generally they schedule my class among the last rosters for new students so that they might develope the appropriate habits and base knowledge prior to attemting the task itself, yes?" Bellona's gaze pierced into them both in turn, and Grave felt himself growing anxious with a burning desire to succeed.
"Professora," grave ventured, his voice braver than he felt, "Which type of Magic do you practise?" Bellona gave a half-lidded eyed smile and replied,
"Grimoire Magic, of course."
Grave nodded in awe, not yet fully comprehending what this really entailed. But in that moment, he vowed that he too would study Grimoire Magic. And someday...someday, when he'd ascended...he vowed he'd be as powerful as Bellona.

Grave had not noticed the student waiting behind them, and when he looked saw to his disappointment that it was an older student, apparently of a Choleric Alignment. Grave shot him a look deserved for Death Throws and let his hand slide down from Arwen's elbow to her tiny hand. He bowed formally to the Professora. "Thank you, Madam. I am so looking forward to your class - indeed I am more excited for your lectures than any others. Until then, thank you." Grace backed up and moved aside. The Professora let her eyes linger on the pair a little longer, as if reading into them, and then turned her penetrating stare on to the Choleric boy.