Pell Laveau's Story

Pell Laveau

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The air was still. On Wednesdays, it usually was. Without the demanding schedules of class, household was left to do really whatever they pleased. Even those under legal age. It was truly a one-of-a-kind school. In place of standard parenting came lenient supervision and the wave of a hand. Where most children would get slapped on the wrist, the academy’s were rewarded. Pell caught herself in a half eyeroll thinking about it, bulging sandwich in hand. From where she stood at the dining room table, she could hear no echoes or voices, not a single whisper. Eerily thawed by the afternoon gale, the motionless hallways were so hushed that they seemed to hum all on their own. Mostly everybody had cut and run for a bit of freedom. Wednesdays were a mid-week weekend up until Ceremony. The girls would clear out and break loose, a truly uninhibited flock of messy witches if Pell did say so herself. Not that she was tooting her own horn. She was just more reserved, with more humility forced into her by Marie Laveau, the voodoo queen herself. Pell wasn’t so brazenly audacious. It seemed to only be the girls, younger, mostly. Male inhabitants usually hung around and binged on food from the kitchen while mindlessly flipping through television channels in their rooms. Or in the case of Bjarki, a newer teacher, would douse their habitual cup of coffee with liquor and stroll around the property with a shit-eating grin, like all of this was just so normal, so peachy.

Speak of the devil, he was bizarrely chirring to himself as per usual when noise bled back into the Robichaux realm. If it weren’t for the open windows, Pell might not have acknowledged him. She padded into the main foyer, its palatial white walls somehow homely and heartening. Pell did love the place. It was so remarkably ivory. It just looked so clean. Like history hadn’t marred it a bit, not even with the bloodshed known to its former time. Pallid satin drapes billowed if not secured, summery Louisiana breeze seeping into the school and bringing the aroma of sweet lemon with it. In a half-assed saunter, Pell wandered toward the front door, a sandwich almost to her mouth when Mr. B burst back in. His inky eyes were alive with mirth. Naturally Pell couldn’t help but reciprocate the expression, even if in a slightly dryer manner. The young teacher was just so neighborly and as happy as a clam.

However, given the sight of the head of Council, Pell’s shiny beam slackened. What was she doing here? Pell leaned away, the muscles of her exposed torso tightening with ill pique. Unconcerned, Myrtle Snow marched past the defiant lavender-haired girl and her sandwich. In tow like some sort of tall, lanky puppy dog, came what Pell took as a new peer. Superintending the arrival, Mr. B was waggling and smiling, rigged out in a usual lightweight button up, tattooed arms exposed only because he couldn’t stand the humidity. Pell wondered how Myrtle Snow felt about all that body modification. She moved her gaze to the sheepish appearance again, diffident and apparently thinking way too hard. Pell gave him an uncurious nod, muttering, “Welcome to thunder dome,” sarcastically with a mouthful of food. Judging from the addled yet happily polite look in his eyes, he was without a doubt new to this. She didn’t hang around to investigate. Wasn’t her bag. Besides, new students were every other week lately, and she wasn’t on a hunt for friends.

The quiet echo of her walk’s rhythm reverberated briefly before she returned to the main dorming hall. At a snail’s pace she would scale the immense atrium, taking a cumbersome bite now and again from the bread and turkey grasped by her digits. Her elfin feet would wiggle some toes occasionally if the air conditioning was on high. For some reason, it was not. With a peek toward the floor, Pell wondered why she hadn’t dressed up or gone out. Could have been wearing a nice pair of creepers or a skirt. Sure, she was a bit worried about being exposed, but she’d been at the academy for weeks now. She could use a break. And if she kept up the boyish routine, she would be reduced to a bubbling mess of idiot just like all the others who parked themselves in front of a cable box rather than braving the New Orleans heat.

She pulled at the fabric of her cropped tank top, noting a familiar and elitist voice in the air. Pivoting on her heel, a small squeak emitted beneath, Pell wandered back to the entryway of the foyer, where she was not surprised to see the impotent puppy again. Anyone else would be astonished to see him braving a conversation with Madison. Let alone politely asking for guidance. But Pell? She knew the feeling of being a fresh face at Robichaux, how unyielding some of those bitches were. How it was similar to being thrown into a snake pit when you just wanted to know where the damn laundry room was. The worn fringe on her pale and torn jeans tickled her skin, gravity defied as she gently nudged a young man from the doorway, leaning in to smile smugly at the flaxen-haired big name. Unfazed Madison continued some biting speech, picking apart who she was calling a moron every other word. Pell grasped the door frame, allowing her to go on, even concluding finally with a deep respiration, as if she were going to extent the onslaught. Not inspired by Madison’s cliche take on a fashionable rebirth of ‘punk’ or her ridiculous diction that focused solely on belittling new arrivals, the Laveau girl remarked, “Wow! Madison! That skirt is so cute. You know something? It looks familiar…”

Madison paused to peer at Pell, a lip-pursing annoyance etched on her face as the purple haired girl proceeded. “Shit, I’d swear you wore it in a movie I saw. But,” Pell’s shapely lips slanted in a mock look of sympathy, “That’s right. You don’t get,” she paused and limply raised a finger, “parts in movies, do you?” Madison glared, a snarl on the tip of her tongue when Pell tossed a small remainder of sandwich at the bimbo, “You should probably eat. Cocaine catches up, you know?” Pell turned away with disinterest and gestured for the young man to follow.

She didn’t waste time making small talk, only asking his name, if he was excited, and his room number. Silas. He was excited, but there was some question on how convincing his statement was. And room 2D. A roommate had finally arrived, imagine that! Pell simpered, pushing open a white clone door which opened up into a fair sized space with two double beds, one decorated in ivory lace and a colorful quilt. “Hey sorry about Madison,” she chimed quietly as she seated herself on the embellished bed near one of two windows, “She comes from a big Hollywood family so she thinks she can be a snob to everyone. I’m actually amazed she’s home, usually on days off she’s somewhere getting sloshed or still sleeping at a frat.” Pell pulled a pair of shoes out from beneath her mattress’ frame, sliding into them as she peered toward the window, hollow cheeks sort of pulling in during a moment of thought, “Do you have any questions? Admittedly I’m not good at this stuff, to be honest, but I figure I’ll be more helpful than Madison. Plus it’s Ceremony, so no one will be home until they have to.”

"Well, regardless, I'm Pell," she extended her hand, "Guess we're roommates. I'm a Laveau, so don't let anyone tell you rumors without hearing it firsthand. Voodoo is not a dark art, it is not some... Rival-born race. I'm not part of the war, and neither is my cousin, Jacqueline. She also goes here." She could tell from the look on his face he was clueless. Sighing, she pinned a smile to her own, "Anyway, cheers to new roommates."

He growled, low and dark before he chucked his phone as hard as he could at the building, managing to smash it to tiny obliterated bits of useless plastic and metal. He drew a shaky breath before running a trembling hand over his face, silently willing himself to calm down. He let out the breath and straightened up, face stoic and relaxed. He wouldn't lose his temper over a stupid call.

But I already did, he reminded himself, glancing at the broken phone sprawled across the ground. He'd thrown it much harder than he needed to, and now there was no way he was going to be able to fix it. Not this time.

It had been a long time since anyone from his family had contacted him, but he still recognized his mother's number when he read it on his phone. She had actually tried to call him, actually had the nerve to act like she had the right to talk to him. He began tensing up but relaxed almost immediately.

Not worth it. Definitely not worth it. He'd gotten better at staying calm, and even better and forcing himself to become calm when he was on the verge of having an episode. His anger had gotten briefly worse after leaving his old school; he had fits of anger all the time and would randomly lash out. But he didn't do it anymore, usually he acted fine no matter how upset he really was. But of course his mother had ruined the calmness he'd surrounded himself in. If she could, she'd probably destroy a lot more than that.

Rowe knew he should be doing something productive, more productive than wandering around the back of the academy's building throwing phones at it. He had just noticed the call and knew he had to get away before he lost it. Before people saw him lose it. He physically flinched from the thought, trying to not think about the looks he'd have gotten if he had just thrown his phone while around other people. He'd learned quickly that it wasn't just violent acts toward people that could get people to be worried. Simply lashing out at an object freaked people out sometimes too, though people hear probably took it better than most.

He briefly considered picking up the shattered phone but couldn't be bothered in the end and just walked off, trying to look normal as he just emerged from behind a building. Completely normal.

The sun was out and happily roasting all of earth's inhabitants, much to Rowe's displeasure. He didn't like the sun, the light gave him a headache almost instantly, probably from the fact he was so sensitive to everything when he didn't sleep well. Which was always. Nightmares don't do much for encouraging sleep, apparently. Trying to keep his face turned away from the general direction of the sun, Howe walked off back to his dorm to grab the book he'd been reading. He'd already forgotten the title- it was a long one. "Playing the piano with a drunk" or "Bleeding Fingers Play Drunk Piano". Something about drunk, piano, and blood, that's all he could remember. Good thing he didn't have anyone asking him to recommend books he'd read, 'cause he was sure he'd get strange looks trying to explain what he was reading now.

His short walk was pretty quiet, no one was really around their rooms during Wednesday afternoon with the whole "Do whatever you please" policy that was in place for Wednesday. At least until later, with the Ceremony stuff. Then everyone would be herded back and would have to attend. Not that he was really complaining about the Ceremonies themselves, but the fact that they were mandatory and there wasn't a single rebellious student he knew of that went against the rule was simply unnerving to him. More unnerving then the amount of people in the academy with the power to kill everyone if they wanted.

Myself probably included, he added to himself, albeit a little bitterly. He didn't really have enough control to preform a mass killing, though he was sure if he was given enough reason he could manage to maim or kill a few people.

He only saw one guy who looked lost wandering around by the time he'd gotten to his room. Pell had pulled him away- so Rowe just assumed it was her roommate. Probably new roommate. Rowe slipped into his room and quickly grabbed his book- he always put his books on the same spot on his dresser- and his messenger bag. He shoved the book inside and dug around his dresser's drawer for his stash of little hard candies and tossing a few in the bag too. He slipped the bag over his head, before pausing to look around the room.

He hadn't gotten a roommate during his time here, at least not yet. He sometimes wondered if it was because of what happened at his previous school, but wasn't convinced they would keep him isolated for the one incident. The people who ran this place didn't seem all that concerned with it when they invited him here in the first place so why worry about it once he was actually here? And there had to be more dangerous people than him.

With a sigh he left the room and went back outside, immediately hightailing it to the shadiest area he saw within 100 feet. He sat down on the ground, not really worried about people seeing him and judging him for it. No one was really around, and he didn't expect anyone to show up. Rowe pulled out his book and a candy, popping the sugary treat into his mouth with one hand while he flipped through the pages to where he had left off with his other. He found his spot and started reading right there in the shade, eyes flicking over the words as he drew one knee to his chest to rest his chin on as he read.

Jacqueline lay in her bed, looking up at the ceiling, watching the fan spin slowly. There were too many people here to sleep. She didn’t know why Marie suggested she come to this school, a boarding school knowing her ‘gift’, but thankfully, the administrators gave her the room furthest from the other students so it was less likely that she would dreamwalk.

They were wrong. Her reach was a few hundred yards. She knew what the gardener dreamt about....that was fun...
She often found herself in another person’s dreams, wet dreams to nightmares, and most time, she didn’t know what was worse. There was one student that had a crush on her once; it was something else to find herself in a dream where he was ‘sleeping with her’, and that’s putting it mildly, when she woke up, she found his scrawny ass and gave him the slap of his life.

That did nothing for his dreams, only that time she was a dominatrix. That’s when they moved her. It didn’t help that much.

She sat up and sighed. “Fuck it.” She groaned, she decided she’d get ready for the day.

After about an hour of that, she made her way to the commons, they were getting new students today, and didn’t want Madison getting her claws into them first. Poor noobs wouldn’t stand a chance if that happened. There was a whole war between Wiccans and Voodooism that was just a bore, She nor her Cousin had nothing and wanted nothing do to with it. Pell way more so than Jacqueline. Marie raised them both, having been the only family they had. Jacqueline was more closely related then Pell, given her olive skin and dark hair. Maybe Marie was playing favorites? She didn’t know for sure but she adored Pell, and when she left for this school, it nearly killed her but then Marie suddenly decided, despite the colorful protesting she did when Pell decided to enrolled—or enlist depending on who you asked, that Jac should enroll as well, Jac was confused but overjoyed. Pell was her cousin by blood, sister by heart.


Jacqueline was dressed in her usual attire, the school uniform that hugged her body in a way that was probably illegal, high socks that gripped her dancer’s calf, a short skirt that caressed her hips and sway tantalizingly when she walked, a tight top that teased the bounty of her chest, her wavy raven tresses the hung down her back; She looked amazing, and she knew it.

That was the thing with her, she knew what she looked like, how most men, and some women looked at her, her exotic features and French Creole accent, but she cared not an ounce. Power that’s all she wanted, Control.

She made her way to the commons and smiled at the newcomers, waiting for someone to approach. They always did.

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Aden Orchau was no stranger to the Louisiana heat, despite what his preference for tight black clothing might suggest. Still, April brought with it a wave of sticky warmth that even he couldn't ignore. So the boy threw out his skinny jeans for once in favor of Tripp brand shorts and a loose tank top advertising some screamo rock band. His combat boots stayed in place though, untied, ratty old things.

From his spot sitting on top of the balcony railing (yes, on top, feet swinging below him wondering how long it would take for a shoe to slip off and hit someone [preferably Miss Foxx] on the head) he could both remain unseen and see everyone come and go from the main doors. Because it was a Wednesday though, there wasn't much to see. The academy was normally bubbling with energy and a collection of unruly young witches, but they'd been granted their freedom, which meant they were off to their own devices.

Usually Aden spent these days in the city with Lucius, which he cherished more than anything, but this particular day he wasn't so lucky. Which meant he was stuck inside, subjected to people watching, because he hated everyone and had no fun whatsoever. Or, so the rumors claimed. Aden just didn't care enough to dismiss them.

After maybe an hour of silence, Pell Laveau crossed the threshold, beautiful lavender hair really the only reason Aden could recognize her spot on. He liked Pell, about as much as he liked anyone...which wasn't a lot, really. Perhaps he just hated her a little less than the others.

The front door opening stole both of their attention, but Aden wasn't surprised to see Hale saunter in, shit-eating grin in place, looking much too happy like he usually did. Aden rolled his eyes, brought his cigarette to his mouth, and blew out smoke which only cleared to show something a little different in the daily proceedings. A new kid. Aden could tell immediately because he was not only escorted by Mertyl Snow's mess of bright red hair, but because of the way he was dressed. Fuck, one wouldn't know the kid was in Louisiana if Aden wasn't so sure of it himself. New Boy looked more out of place than some idiot wearing white during Ceremony.

Pell only lingered long enough to probably say hi in a creative Pell type way, Ms. Snow scurried off to do really annoying and pointless shit that would disrupt everyone's lives, and Mr. B...went to do whatever weird stuff he did. Which left the kid standing there alone for a good five or ten minutes, looking more lost than a girl in a boys bathroom, before he straightened his shoulders and made his way to the staircase. Aden watched with disinterest, moving one hand to bring the cigarette to his lips.

A good ten minutes later, somewhere in the halls behind him, an argument struck up. Aden recognized Madison and Pell's voices, which meant new kid had probably attempted to talk to the Head Bitch and Pell came to the rescue, because she was a good person like that. Aden blocked them out, watching a few more kids mill through the entrance way under him on occasion.

Sometimes he thought about lighting them on fire just for the hell of it. But he didn't. He was already in enough trouble this week.

Mr. B

Busily humming as he beetled down the dilated entryway, Hale ran a tattooed hand through his chestnut hair, spindly fingers snagging knots and promptly removing them. He was just short of a clean break when he nearly plunged toward the floor. One of his large hands clamped the ajar front door to steady himself. Straightening his bowtie, he flattened himself against the nearest wall, eyes wide at the source of his blunder, avoided by a hair’s breadth. Teeth happily clenched, the young scout beamed at the mess of sandy hair. Hale’s cheeks stretched thin, until he could smile no wider at the bare-eyed creation.

Kyle. A mocked ‘house dog’ by catty young witches (no pun intended), and a godsend by Cordelia. Anyone who understood his evolution in the slightest appreciated him. Simple comprehension seemed to be beyond even the most gifted at times, though. Kyle was at best, amateur witch work gone wrong. But over time with the molding of his mind, his own dedication and hard work, he became a gift to the academy, and nothing less. A diamond in the rough, as Hale saw it. Kyle was decorated in scars and aged lesions, physical narratives on his skin of the horrors he had suffered. He was best disguised in his clothes. Though underneath, Hale knew immaculate stitchwork kept him together. The limbs reattached were not all his own. Whether or not this was a secret, Hale treated it as a respected and unspoken matter. After all, it did not matter. The boy worked hard and whatever remnants of a prior life remained in him were to be cherished. Hale never fancied the idea of underestimating anyone, and disparaging blatantly weathered folk was a sin. Anyone who willingly worked their hands to the bone to stay at Robichaux and assist waspish young things was a saint. Hale treated him subtly as such with his usual inkling of bizarre joy in greeting. A kind soul resided in that boy, misunderstood, but kind nonetheless. Kyle was, after all, human. Even if he had no heartbeat.

Hale often wondered why the unsanctioned revival of a horribly disfigured college boy was not penalized… If something like that would have backfired, either girls involved with the haphazardly performed spell themselves could have died, or come back completely mindless without recollection of anything, let alone their past lives. Leave it to Cordelia to be the most forgiving witch in the universe. But really, what a beautiful spirit Miss Foxx was. He could picture her leniency and concern perfectly. He wished he had gotten more time to know the headmistress, but she seemed less enthused about him than most. Which struck a nerve, considering Cordelia seemed very fond of Myrtle Snow. Why was he frowned upon? Had he done something wrong?

There was no time to debate it internally. It wasn’t necessarily important with ‘the bigger picture’. With a starless stare, Hale noticed Jacqueline moving with her usual elegance, no doubt prepared to entertain a newcomer. Hale was granted, wholly curious about the very potent voodoo heir. Her business at the academy. There was also Pell Laveau, fair skinned and fairy-like, but Pell gave off an apathetic aura when it came to the study of voodoo itself. She did not spur much suspicion. Without control of his flitting eyes and mind, he stole glances also into the front yard, where Kyle had been dragging his nature-happy feet before stumbling into sight. Hale extended a large palm, wrapping drawn fingers around Kyle’s cold hand and helping him stand, “Lost in thought?” Hale mused it, the sun hitting his nearly black eyes and shrinking the sable pupil, “No worries. You work your ass off, deserve some downtime. I rather like the Methley’s myself…” Thoughtfully Hale moved to touch his own face, itching at stubble once again, “Silas Abernathy, room 2D. Pell Laveau is his roommate, you know the girl, don’t you? Ah, can’t chit chat… Must be on my way!” He tapped the face of his watch as he brushed past Kyle and made his descent to the front path.

“Don’t beat yourself up, I forget things all the time!” He called out to the Spencer boy, stopping mid-step to whip around momentarily. Naturally he felt the desire to look skyward, where he found a tepid boy swinging his feet about from the second story balcony. Dark hair complimented his otherwise dark features. Hale folded a pair of sunglasses in his grasp, squinting at the male witch, and the displeasure of sweating through a dress shirt, “Mr. Orchau, it wouldn’t kill you to get some sunlight! Or tie your boots…” Hating to sound nagging or remotely faux parental, he tilted his head with a silly grin, half-wink included, “I’m sure our new student could use some… Domestic guidance. If you feel so inclined. Either way, carry on. I look forward to seeing you at Ceremony!” Winding his way out of sight and rounding the substantial academy, Hale hurriedly tromped on his way.

Sweat created from both the temperature and anxious need to be on time, Hale finally threw his hands up, a huff escaping his mouth. The sky darkened only a hue or so, sun fleetingly hiding. A disarray of cold raindrops assaulted just New Orleans for about two minutes. Smitten with the cool-off, even the effect it left on his now sodden clothes, Hale carried on as the sun dared show its face again. This time, his path was not distracted by a lone boy perched beneath a tree for some shade. Still, greetings were a force of habit. Hale bowed his head, rushing past, metal crunching beneath his foot, “I do hope you can fix your cell phone!” With that, Hale hopped onto a six-speed, pedaled his way around the corner, and disappeared for some urban core business.

With a face scrunched up like the wrinkled body of a Shar-Pei, Kyle groaned, hand grasping his throbbing shoulder which protested highly against his assault on the door. Which actually wasn't the first time, believe it or not, and it wasn't the first time that someone else was on the other side of the piece of wood either. Gosh, he hated it when it happened, but he never once came up with a way to prevent such. Though in all honesty, slowing down probably would solve the problem and solve it at it's source.

Puling himself to sit up with a grunt, eyebrows creased in minor pain, he looked up at the familiar accessorized skin that fell upon the young man's hand. He starred at it for a second, listening to Hale's curious, or rather assumptive, inquiry of his prior thought provoking session with the plumbs and roses. He let out a sigh but nodded in response, head hung down low as his the nippy hand took hold of the incandescence of Hale's own, quick to absorb what he could before had had to let go.

The light weight blonde hauled himself up with a smooth pull, letting the poor man's hand go before folding both of his under his arms. The grey sweater preserved the heat the best it could, but it was a sweater, not some sort of heater, and with that fact out of the way, it wasn't long before his hands returned to their frosty state. With a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips, Kyle looked down, putting his weight on his slightly elongated leg, his toes grazing the ground with the other.

As much as Kyle liked being complimented on his work, and he really did like it, he appreciated it a lot more than some of the remarks or scowls he gets across the school, but he didn't think it was something that needed to be addressed. Unlike the rest of the students and teachers and witches who could go off and do whatever they want, and he meant anything, Kyle wasn't able to. Yeah, he could go to the store or go to a carnival or whatever the heck the other's did in their free time, but he couldn't do it without feeling like a criminal for being alive. The looks and stares he got and how he merely interacted with others made him feel like he did something wrong... or maybe it made him feel like he wasn't supposed to be alive. Which he really wasn't, technically, but it felt like he stole something he wasn't supposed to, so Kyle couldn't could out, or wouldn't go out, as often as they did. And with nothing to do at the school when classes were out besides chores and being the awkward tour guide, Kyle just did it. Not like he could do anything else.

So he appreciated the compliment, but it wasn't necessary.

He lifted his head to Hale, making brief eye contact when the Methley was mentioned, a low chuckle breaking past his lips. He smiled over his shoulder at the two again, letting his hands fall to his side. It always brought a smile to Kyle's face when people knew plants by name. Especially when it was something more specific than just "the plum tree" or "the rose bush". But Silas? He didn't recognize that plant. And he knew a lot of plants.

"...room 2D."

Oh! That wasn't a plant at all. It was the new student. If Kyle had blood that could reach his face, his cheeks would have lightened to a light pink. But thankfully it was all in his legs. Kyle merely smiled again, giving Hale a final, stern nod before the man walked past him to leave. About to step through the door to go find this Silas person, Kyle turned around as Hale did. Forgetting was a common occurrence, he knew that, and he didn't have the best memory in the world prior to his death anyway, but with his brain forgetting to string proper sentences together and not being able to remember or comprehend things as he probably should, forgetting dates and people were an annoyance that Kyle took seriously. Especially when it was a new person. New people meant new opportunities and new people deserved to have a guide. And that was his job. Well, part of it.

"Thanks." Kyle replied simply before disappearing into the house. His pace was just as rapid as before he had hit the door and he zoomed down the halls with loud thumps. He knew exactly where 2D was, and her knew Pell. Why wouldn't he know Pell? No one could get past meeting Kyle if their life depended on it, and this Silas guy wasn't going to get away with it either. Kyle wouldn't allow it.

Running around like the maniac he thought he was, Kyle eventually met the hall that turned into Pell's room. He came to a slow stop, and he blinked at the others in the hall.

Man, was the entire school here to see this guy? There were already two people with the guy, and to Kyle who was overly determined to show him around, that might as well be the entire school. Kyle quieted his steps as he limped slightly his way through the hall. He smiled briefly as he passed Jacqueline but didn't stop to even say hi. He moved himself until he made it to the frame of the door, and once he had reached that, Kyle poked his unruly head into the room, leaving his body out of it in case Pell didn't want him there. Not that she probably had any reason not want him there.

He hoped.

This, Silas thought, frozen just outside of the very door he'd thought his safe-haven, would be where he died. Well, hopefully not died, per say. Maybe just where his dreams of a fun, magical adventure died. The amount of teeth exposed by his wide, welcoming grin had slowly melted until there was nothing but a polite, strained sort of smile left in its place. It wasn't that he'd never been yelled at before- Auntie Lavinia said raised voices meant that the speaker was either slightly hearing impaired or they really thought that you should hear what they had to say- but he'd certainly never been yelled at so creatively. Swears were entangled with blistering commentary, doused with a hearty splash of self-righteous fury for good measure. It was like she'd memorized and rehearsed the entire biting monologue until she'd perfected it, made complete by precise hand gestures and eyes narrowed into slits.

Maybe he was being hazed, he supposed as he absent-mindedly fidgeted with the collar of his white button-up shirt. It was cooler in here, but getting cursed at (not literally, thankfully) for an extended period of time did nothing for his internal body temperature. Yes, this seemed like that hazing thing he'd heard about- subject the new kid to torment as a form of welcome. He'd tried to escape within the first minute of his private lecture by the very pretty but very mean-spirited young lady ("The prettier they are, the more they have to hide, Silas") with a rapid back-step and a quick, stilted apology. That plan had been effectively shot down with a snarled "I'm not done with you!" that, really, had left him no choice but to stay and politely wait until she finished.

He probably would have stayed there until she'd run out of steam (or until he had to go to the restroom, whichever came first) until he felt a presence at his side, the same lavender-haired girl with the cryptic greeting he'd barely had a chance to glance at when he'd first entered the house. He inched over at her silent prompting, curious but still half listening to the umpteenth use of "moron" by his malicious monologuer. What followed next was the cattiest exchange he'd ever witnessed (remarkable given the fact that the majority of his social circle included old women who no longer gave a darn and who reveled in the sport of tearing society to pieces) complete with props. It was like something out of a movie, honestly, and that very fact made it all the more intriguing that it was occurring in real life.

The girl, now identified as Madison, was left in a momentary, blissful silence, so Silas really had no issues following after his rescuer, shined black shoes making a sharp "tap, tap, tap" sound on the wooden floors. She didn't seem particularly interested in him, which was fine because he'd just received a bit more attention than he could handle, but did ask him a few basic questions.

His name was Silas Abernathy, he had said, any cool introductions he'd mentally conceived having flown the metaphorical coop in the aftermath of the prior onslaught. Yes, he was very excited to be here. Okay, maybe that wasn't exactly true or true at all, but one did have to try to be optimistic about these things. And, after rifling through his shoulder bag stuffed with books, a brand new cellphone, and a still perfectly-folded maroon tie for the small folder of information Ms. Snow had so kindly given him, his room number was 2D.

She'd led him into a room with two twin beds, one already decorated and the other plain, hospital corners and all. Seeing the fairy-like girl make her way over to the clearly in-use bed, he made his own way over to the plain one, sliding his shoulder bag onto the floor and placing his suitcase neatly and squarely onto the bed.

"Oh, please don't feel the need to apologize," Silas replied with a timid smile, almost afraid that his enthusiasm apparently sent girls around his own age into rages. "She was... ah... interesting. Well, and rude. Oh, but, she was very creative. Well, until she couldn't find any synonyms for moron..." he trailed off, flashing her another painfully awkward smile.

When she asked if he had any questions, he could only shrug lightly. He had plenty of questions- millions upon millions upon millions of them, but he didn't even know where to begin, so for now he'd suffer his own ignorance. Maybe he'd pick some tidbits of information up on his own? He adjusted his suitcase slightly, making sure that it was perfectly square on the bed, before sitting down beside it to face his apparent roommate.

It didn't bother him that he was sharing with a girl, not really. After a lifetime of living with no one but his Auntie Lavinia it felt almost comfortingly familiar, even if Auntie Lavinia hadn't looked anything like the newly introduced Pell for a few decades now. What did surprise him was how defensive she became, talking about cousins and voodoo and prejudice that sailed right over his head. It was all gobbledygook to him as was painfully apparent from the bemused smile plastered on his face. It was only after she'd finished that he noticed her hand was still extended. Her bare hand.

"Oh! Oh, right, sorry, one moment-" Silas was a flurry of motion, diving towards the shoulder bag next to the bed. He dug through it with the same desperation as a starving man searching for food, books unpacked and tossed haphazardly onto the bed, tie tumbling out with a miniature avalanche of loose papers. All the while he continued to talk, short "I'm sorry"s intermingled with "Really, it will just be a moment"s with a few "I know they're in here..."s just to mix things up a bit. Finally he pulled out the sought after object with a beaming grin- a pair of soft, brown gloves, well-made, expertly stitched, and looking distinctly like he'd stolen them from Mr. Darcy.

"I'm afraid this seems terribly rude," He continued on, sliding them onto his hands. "But really, I mean, it's very polite if you think about it. I mean..." he paused before taking her pale hand in both of his, shaking it firmly (although, from the looks of him, one half expected him to kiss it instead). "I have some issues. With contact, that is. Not germophobia. I'm sure you're very clean. It's more like a, er... Precaution for your sake. And my sake. Anyways, it's delightful to meet you and I hope we can get along." That last smile was a hopeful one.

And then, quite suddenly, there was a face in the doorway, peering in. There was probably a body attached to said face, but that was all Silas could see for the moment, and what a face it was. It was probably once a rather handsome face by societal standards, but now it was... off. Not ugly, but off. A plethora of scars decorated it, crisscrossed and dispersed around the entire surface area. There were too many to really explain and the sight was shocking to say the least, even before he noticed the mismatched eyes. However, as soon as the surprise had appeared, it was gone. He, Silas reasoned, while odd looking by Silas' standards (which really was saying something), must be a normal thing here at the Academy, just like voodoo, magical rivalries, and harassing new kids. One cannot, as Auntie Lavinia had frequently said, expect the whole world to be just like your private sphere, so you must adapt. That and "Don't stare at people, Silas. It's rude". Besides, the newcomer hadn't opened up with a tirade, so he was already infinitely more pleasant than about half the people Silas had met today.

"Oh! Hello there," He said with a crooked smile and a wave, more like a quick flutter of his hand. His eyes darted to Pell before going back to the boy in the doorway. He was at a temporary loss of words before adding a polite, "May I help you?" Which was ridiculous- Silas couldn't help himself let alone anyone else.

---

---

Aden's position was discovered almost half an hour later, by Hale no less...because Aden was pretty sure he was the only one strange enough to actively look up that high. Even in a house full of witches. The boy screwed his face up in distaste as he glared down at his teacher, then at the sunlight streaming in through the windows.

"Yeah," he muttered at the topic of what might or might not kill him. "But why take unnecessary risks?" Of course, it was doubtful the man could hear him, but...actually, Aden wouldn't put it past Mr. B. If he ever stuck around long enough. The teen sighed, gripped the railing, and casually pulled his body back over it, landing in the hallway.

What the fuck was domestic guidance and why on earth would Aden feel any need to provide it? Then again, perhaps bothering the new kid would be more interesting than what he was currently doing. So he shoved his free hand into his pocket and walked until he heard voices again. Particularly Pell's, and then the rambling of what he assumed was the new kid. Jesus Christ.

Said voices lead him to Pell's room, the door of which was ajar, and Aden obviously hadn't been the only one sent this way, because Kyle Spencer was sticking his head over the threshold. Aden rolled his eyes, ruffled the boy's blonde hair as he passed maybe a little too roughly, and said, "Sup Zombie Boy," before letting himself in Pell's room.

He dropped on the bed next to the girl, with his general lack for other people's space, elbows resting on his knees and cigarette between his lips while he looked over the new kid now that he could actually see him. He was probably tall, if his slightly lanky form was anything to go off of, and actually most likely older than Aden himself. He was actually really cute. Soft brown hair, big brown eyes, slightly confused but generally happy expression. He looked tired, though, a fact Aden attributed to the circles under his eyes.

Dressed like he owned a fucking museum or something though.

Aden blew out a puff of smoke before turning to face Pell, arching one eyebrow and gesturing lazily with his hand. "Is this guy for real?"

Pell Laveau

---

---

---

With agile speed Pell relaced and tied a pair of Vans Skate High’s after formal introductions were through, casting aside her urge to completely avoid the handshake with Silas that she initiated. Was he for real? Pell glanced at her own hands after one was clasped by his firm greeting. Her hands were maybe even a little dry from over-washing and excessive use of hand sanitizer. Choking back a displeased, or perplexed sigh, she forced the smile to stay on her porcelain face, “Oh, it’s okay, we all have our…” Pell looked back up, meeting the bookkeeper-like stare of her new roommate, “Preferences.” Maybe what she meant to say was 'extreme quirks'. Her pixie colored hair fell around her face, weight rested in her thighs when she seated herself again. She leaned toward her shoes to examine the bows.

So far the only feather in her hat during her stay at Miss Robichaux’s had been the enchanted version of honor roll (twice achieved, mind you) and assisting with Ceremony grocery shopping. Too bad public defense against Madison Montgomery didn’t count, otherwise Pell would be ranking as an elite student by now. Especially with the shots fired about substance abuse a few moments after Silas’ arrival. Pell smirked to herself, a glimpse of her white teeth on display for a second. She shook her head, impish wavy locks bouncing. At least to her, it was a very direct and waggish remark. Pell was curious to know whether or not she put Madison behind the eight ball, being that the Montgomery girl sort of gawked rather than snapping back immediately. Who would have guessed that publicists didn’t mentor their clients on comebacks that may come in handy during a paparazzi frenzy? …Or say, a common cat fight? Pell, apparently. She would pat herself on the back later for that one.

Noting a change in the natural lighting, Pell lifted her head. She did not look at the window nor mention it when its Honiton lace curtain separated and tucked itself into a rod. Still, not much sunlight. She had been practicing more physicality and control lately. If she didn’t need to employ her powers, she wouldn’t. But getting up from the bed just to move the shades seemed too demanding. She shrugged to herself and furrowed her brow. A quick scan was given to the view at a distance. Clouds were beginning to separate just as quickly as they had rolled in. Must have been Mr. B again with his finicky preference on weather. Sighing, she rubbed the bridge of her narrow nose between two fingers before pulling a foot onto the mattress and acknowledging another presence. A cheek rested to her knee, she clasped her hands around her shin, “Hey, Kyle.”

The guy couldn’t have had better timing. “You know you can come in,” she raised a brow, “Without waiting for me to say so. Open door policy.” Pell was a little lost for words, and Kyle was so user-friendly for new arrivals. What he lacked in refined language he made up for in hospitable psyche and helpful tact, as long as his appearance didn't frighten said new arrival off. Pell knew there was a lot of extraordinary magic at work in his brain, even if he was considered some run-of-the-mill zombie, non-magic person prone to semi brutal outbursts. She quietly observed him on many occasions. The way he paid attention to the garden, the greenhouse, his clement interest in things that grew from sunlight. Maybe that’s why he liked the sun so much? Yeah, maybe. There was something within his nature she identified with, whether that was being disarmed and thrust into a new world, or feeling like even the clearest language couldn’t make others understand. During the few times they spent together, be it chores or a hand of cards, they didn’t speak so much as they exchanged looks. More often than not they were befuddled expressions or effortless nods, but there was some grasp between them. It was because of their lack of conversation people assumed they weren’t friends. But Pell would disagree with that speculation. She felt like Kyle was the closest thing to a friend she had aside from her adored cousin, who happened to slowly saunter down the hall just in the knick of time.

Aden padded past Kyle as well, and the others without regard. He plopped on her bed, careless in terms of greetings or hospitality as per usual. He wasn’t exactly the warmest of personalities, but he was somewhat a kindred spirit. “Is everyone home today or what?” Pell blurted, clutching the corner of a pillow and swatting the Orchau boy with it. “Jax,” Pell called out, beckoning her into the room, “Wanna’ run into town with me? Last minute shopping shit for Ceremony. ‘Sides, kinda’ want to scale that new boutique, corner store, thing.” Even in spite of classes being void on a Wednesday, Jacqueline wore her uniform like a trophy. And really, she looked like one. The firm fabric on her tawny skin would make mostly anyone swoon. She had a complexion like polished Agate, eyes like two curious cats swaying slowly, perpetually ridden with enigma. That hint of Creole in her tone was something Pell favored over everything. It reminded her of her mother, of home. Pell only retained a small slicking of Southern twang in her own speech, usually when she didn’t feel like fully enunciating something, or when articulating words with ‘l’s and ‘o’s. But those who listened closely enough would catch on and consider it a comforting quality, most of the time. Others would assume an accent equaled a lack of intelligence.

"Aden!" Pell snapped mid-thought, "He's new. Don't be such a bitch." She turned her attention back on her cousin, quite the multitasker of conversation, “And, I could use a really freaking stiff drink,” she murmured, getting to her feet and dusting denim off for no apparent reason, “Aden? Wanna’ tag along?” She tucked a cigarette between her teeth, looking at her room visitors and speaking mottled, “What about y’all?” She delved into her back pocket, retrieving a yellow piece of note paper, “Ah, Cordelia and Fiona made a wish list, for tonight’s Ceremony meal, so I gotta’ get that stuff, too…” Eyeing Kyle, she nonchalantly added, “Aden, light me up. I’m practicing self control.” She could already imagine his response.

Yeah, Pell, or just laziness.

---

---

Arturo had finished his patrol of the schools grounds, it gave him a chance to go outside. Of course He had his limitations. there was a border around the house that prevented him from going any further, like an invisible boundary that could force him back a few feet if he ran at full speed at it. He had done that many times when he was first cursed he wanted to get out and be free, after a long while he got used to it and found a place to call home even if it was his prison.

He watched as a new student entered the house, he watched from a distance like always. Seen and not heard. That was Arturo. He watched as Kyle almost took the front door off its hinges. That by was like a new born deer, unable to find his feet. Oh how he would love to chase down a deer and feast on the flesh, a soft growl erupted in his throat at the memory of hunting with his family. Arturo sighed softly and continued to walk around the school grounds, Hale disappeared on a bike.

He cam to the front door and checked the door that Kyle had more or less gone through, it looked okay no hinges broken or splintered wood. Arturo smirked a little and began to walk around the house his nostrils twitching at the smell of smoke, cigarette smoke. He rolled his eyes a little how many times had he told the students to not smoke inside. It made the house smell, with his enhanced smell it was a hideous odour.

Finding the source of the smell he knocked on the door frame with his knuckles lightly, looking at all the students in one room. " Good Afternoon everyone. Would you mind either putting those cigarettes out or stepping outside with them. Cigarettes both stink the house and are a fire hazard we don't want the school burning down do we?" He tilted his head a little.

When it came to newcomers, excitement usually got the better of Kyle a majority of the time. And when it did, he usually got frowned upon and either scolded, got awkward glances, or received extremely blunt and verbal grunts of disgust. Everyone was different so each reaction was painfully and awfully unique, but that never stopped him from his bubbly first impressions.

With Kyle's first misconception of Silas' name, he half expected him to be long and lanky with all sorts of imperfections and oddities about him, like some sort of unfruitful vine. And he was half right, he supposed. He certainly was tall...er. Taller. Taller than him. Was that considered tall? As soon as the man had laid eyes on him, Kyle's beaming personality burst through his shining teeth in his toothy grin. He took good care of his teeth, unlike his hair. He didn't want to seem like he was decaying anymore than he probably did. And yellow teeth and bad breathe wouldn't help his case. The case that he wasn't falling apart that is. Because he wasn't, honestly. He couldn't even remember the last time something came off of him.

Well, that was a lie, because he remembered the time he was dismembered. He just didn't actually see it though, so he supposed that was the last time something came off of him. And he hoped nothing would come off of him again.

Kyle remained where he was, even after Silas managed a hello to him through the door. But he didn't stay long after Pell invited him inside in which Kyle pulled himself into the doorway. About to step inside, a warm sensation ran through his hair, and with brows furrowed, the blonde turned quickly to the student who walked past him. He should have known. But once he was done, and Aden sat himself on the bed beside the purple haired, fair young lady, Kyle scurried his way into the room, shifting his weight between his uneven legs starring at the man. His smile only faded slightly as he observed him with impatient eyes. He waved his hand in a short fit of rambunctiousness, but his hands quickly grasped each other, playing with one another like some sort of game.

He looked very different than the other witches here at the school, and Kyle didn't particularly know what to think about it. And thus far, he acted a little different too. Still not knowing what to think. But he liked it. At least he thought he did. "Hi." He finally managed to say, holding out his left hand, which was usually less disturbing than his mix and matched right hand. "I'm Kyle." He's perfected that introduction. Kyle did try his best after all to seem like he can communicate normally, no matter how frustrating it was. And since he says it so much, the line, along with a few other phrases and instructions, had started to come naturally to him. Now all he had to do was do that with... just about everything else. "Silas?" His head quirked to the side ever so slightly as he pointed to the man himself. He hoped he said it right.

Glancing over his shoulder at Pell with his quirky, scarred lips still pulled into an enthusiastic smile, he listened to her call to Jacqueline who he had just passed in the hall, then make a small announcement about grocery shopping. Something Kyle didn't like to do much of. Again, the faces and disgust usually got him flustered, and that wasn't a good thing by any means. Kyle merely shook his head, looking at Pell but hand still stuck out to Silas.

Though, one would have thought there was some sort of party going on in the room, because it wasn't long before yet another person entered the room. And with every party, there was a party crasher. Kyle's smile melted away like ice in the sun and his discoloured eyes looked away from the man in the doorway. Eyebrow's twitching between raised and furrowed, Kyle stayed still like a statue until the man's request was complete. Once it rung through the air, the young man returned his gaze to Silas, bringing up another friendly smile onto his face.

"Tour?" The poor guy probably needed some help getting around. People usually did.

Jacqueline watched as the students came and went. Not a word uttered, she was odd that way, despite how her appearance was, she was like a spider, beautiful yet terrifying, and silence and patience.
”Jax!”
A grin twerked up her the edge of her lips. Pell. She turned and made her way into Pell’s room where a few people had already gathered. Jacqueline smiled at the others, soft but wolfish. ”Oui?” She answered her lavander haired cousin. “Wanna’ run into town with me? Last minute shopping shit for Ceremony. ‘Sides, kinda’ want to scale that new boutique, corner store, thing.”Pell asked in her sweet country twang.
Jacqueline mused over this, it was their off day and while she would likely have gone off to study some place, she wouldn’t mind an outing. She loved the French quarter and wouldn’t mind seeing it.
“Certainly.” She said with a shrug, her accent making each syllable more pronounced. "Aden!" Pell spoke suddenly and Jacqueline merely arched an eyebrow. She swore sometimes her cousin had the attention span of a three year old, "He's new. Don't be such a bitch." Jacqueline snickered as she walked inside, leaning against the wall now. “And, I could use a really freaking stiff drink,” Pell added and Jacqueline cocked her head. “Don’ you t’ink it’s a bit early for dz’at?” She asked her incredulously. Not that Pell was listening to her, as her attention was back on Aden again and went on about cigarettes.
Jacqueline much preferred the smell of burning sage then burning tobacco, her gaze wondered then to the blonde boy and the dashing fellow he was speaking to. Curiosity was building in her mind as she gazed at them but it faded quickly as there was knock at the door behind her before it opened.
Arturo Degari, a lovely piece of man who reeked of magic appeared.
" Good Afternoon everyone. Would you mind either putting those cigarettes out or stepping outside with them. Cigarettes both stink the house and are a fire hazard we don't want the school burning down do we?" He suggested, though it was more of a command.
She turned her eyes to him, allowing her gaze to travel slowly up his body.
“It is like telling a fish not to swim.” She told him only her head turning toward him. “Or a wolf not to ‘owl.” She added with a sensual grin. It was a shame he was Fiona’s play thing, Jacqueline would have nothing more than to see who much of an animal he really was. “You shouldn’t waste your breat’ on t'e meaningless, Mon'ami”

Aden shot Pell an unamused look out of the corner of his eye when she hit him with a pillow. He didn't expect any less behavior from her, but he also refused to encourage it in any form or fashion. As usual, her attention didn't stay on anything for long, and she moved on from his presence to calling Jacqueline into the room.

He offered the newest addition to their little gathering a slight wave as he pressed his cigarette back between his lips. He didn't particularly care what the girls were talking about until he heard his name again, and simply arched an eyebrow when Pell chastised him for his attitude before continuing her conversation.

Aden shrugged slightly and leaned back on his free hand, watching Kyle scurry his way into the room and wave excitedly. Idiot, Aden thought, but perhaps Kyle's enthusiasm for people was addicting even to him. Kyle did a good job introducing himself, and then picking up New Kid's name, which was apparently Silas. Even if the scene was entirely too much like Tarzan, at least Kyle managed and it didn't end up in a fit.

Hearing his name again, Aden glanced over at the girls once more, gathering he'd been asked to tag along to town. Both his eyebrows rose this time. Honestly, he had no desire to do anything related with Ceremony. He wouldn't even attend the damn service if it wasn't absolutely, completely, unarguably mandatory (and it was – he'd tried getting out of it before).

Before he could open his mouth to say hell no, a new person presented themselves at the doorway, and seriously, since when did Pell's room become party central? Arturo Degari, also known as Fiona's fucking guard dog and a general pain in the ass. Aden chuckled softly at Jacqueline's response to the request, so much more eloquent than he could ever manage, before taking a long drag from his cigarette and letting the smoke blow out as slow as he could. With a smirk, he snapped his fingers, lighting up Pell's own cancer stick while he was at it. Normally he would have offered some deadpanned comment about her laziness, but sacrifices could be made in favor of blatantly ignoring an authority figure.

Jessica Bambi Soullet looked at the time, seeing that she was late. -Shit, I'm going to miss class again.- Bambi said, tying her greasy hair up and pulling on a clean shirt. She glanced down to see a diagram of the anatomy of a Pika printed across her chest. Bambi grinned and pulled on a pair of polka dot socks and along with her favorite Vans before hopping out of the room.

As Bambi jogged out of the boarding hall, she slipped on a pair of headphones. Turning up her music as loud as her phone would allow, Bambi slid down the stair's banister and out the door. Stressed, she didn't even notice that her coat was starting to burn. She suddenly felt a searing pain on her right shoulder. Bambi jumped and flailed her arms against her shoulders pitifully as she ran towards the main building.

As Bambi neared the school, she slipped off her headphones. She hid her face from the strange boy under the tree; Road? Something like that. As she hurried past him she racked her brain for a slight inclination but could not remember his name for the life of her. She said in his general direction before she burst through the front door.

The air of the place was full of noise. It was too loud, breath taking. She put her headphones back on, hiding herself from the distinct noise of the mind. It was like a constant buzzing in her ear. She had to shape and reshape the images that matched the muddled voices. Her clairvoyance was still too weak to hone in on one mind of silence the others, which often drove her mad. Out of all of these weirdos, she was possibly the least skilled...

Bambi glanced up in time to see Madison, discontent contorting her face. She caught Bambi staring and glared. Uninterested in arguments, Bambi adjusted her headphones, looked at the floor and scurried away. Bambi began to make scary faces at the floor; compensating for her cowardice in the heat of the moment. -You're pathetic. If you don't find courage, you won't grow.- her mother's voice rang in her ears. She clenched her fists in embarrassment, knowing that the stronger clairvoyants had surely heard her.

//Sorry I was away. Death in the family.

Lazarus rolled around in bed for a while, trying to sleep. He had slept all day prior to going to the school. It was surprising, actually, that he couldn't shut his eyes. Most of his days consisted of eating, drinking, and sleeping, with the occasional working on natural medicinal concoctions. He would need to work or off some energy first before sleep or at least stay up a bit longer, maybe check out the house a bit.

This place is weird, Lazarus kept thinking as he looked around, especially at the portraits. Not so much because it was a coven, Lazarus was from an old European House, which was as weird as it came, but because the coven was trying to mask itself as a normal boarding school. It was doing a poor job of appealing as normal school to other witches or even hunters. Especially with its long list of supremes hanging on the walls. In Europe there were versions of supremes in every coven, eventually answering to a grand supreme in either the west or the east. However, none were nearly as powerful as Fiona Good. This coven was renowned for power as well as a history of power vacuums during times of instability. That's just the way the American covens were though.

As he continued to walk around, Laz heard a lot of sound coming from one of the dorm rooms. Upon walking in front of the opened door room he found a ton of students inside. There were three that caught his attention particularly. The boy he had seen on the balcony prior to entering the house, a blonde guy who looked as sluggish as the dead, and an attractive beige skinned girl with gorgeous hazel eyes.

"There party in here or do you all just live in the same room?" He asked the group of people.

Pell Laveau

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---

---

Pell’s distaste for her natural lineage was attempting to fight its way through her expression when she fully comprehended the powwow taking place in her bedroom. It stiffed its own efforts, making it as far as a two rows of gritted teeth. The cherry on her cigarette dimmed and disintegrated. Past supremes must have been rolling over in their graves. Craft was becoming a sullied social assembly. Not that Pell personally took any offense, she more or less hated feeling like she owed reverence and high standards to the governing coven queens before her. It was a force of habit. It was a lingering legacy from Andrea. Her mother. Respect your elders. Embrace your bloodline. That sort of thing. She could hear the romance and sincerity of a nearly forgotten maternal tone in her head, some longed for spirit she would never see again. It struck a nerve.

Why did you have to let him take you?

No, he wasn’t real. No way he could be. Just seemed a little too batshit. Who sacrificed themselves to voodoo divinities anyway? Pell’s thoughts intensified. A curtain hissed as it went up in heated color. Pell nonchalantly pressed a thumb and forefinger to her temple, gaze suddenly sweeping the floor. She was anxious from the abundance of excitement in her room, and as she lifted her perspective so that it could find Fiona’s dog, she maintained this sort of cold temperament with little true emotion behind it. A sigh escaped her throat. Fingers relinquished their pity on her memories and snapped with a distinct ‘pop’. Ashes fell to the pine floorboards, window left bare. The spontaneous fire disappeared and took the curtains with it. The room sort of fell silent as she got to her feet, a slow draw bringing a coffin nail to her mouth so that she could pull the nicotine into her lungs. She inhaled deeply. Her cheeks further hollowed, quiet foot steps tugging the attention of Arturo. Her friendliness dissolved into the mood swing of a fleeting memory. There were those problems with authority again. A mass of thick smoke gushed over Arturo’s face as Pell exhaled and clouded his otherwise wolfish, handsome features.

Her air didn’t change when the tobacco and smog faded. She shrugged, some vague agreement on her cousin’s statement. Like telling a wolf not to howl. Dead silence. She pinched the cigarette and pressed its smoldering remainders into the pale flesh of her palm. Pell was resolute, her skin singed and blistered as a good three or four layers of it blistered and peeled away. “All bark,” she crooned, grabbing a purse and squeezing past Arturo and Kyle, no final looks exchanged with Aden or even Jacqueline, “and no bite.” Poor Silas, must have been terrified at that moment. His country corners, his ironed sweaters and handshake gloves. Would he last a week with Pell as a roommate?

There was no goodbye, no explanation, no beckon for those invited or interested to follow. If they wanted to come, they would. She was through with fine print invitations and congeniality. She just sidestepped and exited, fay lavender hair swaying behind her. Even though she thought to stop, to formally greet the other visitor, a shaggy haired serene individual who had no problem inserting himself, she realized at that point there was no point. The general flock of bedroom guests grew out of hand and attracted more than she bargained for. Or was it her own fault? Arturo had the nose of a bloodhound. Damn! It was her fault.

The breaks in what would be spiral stairs if not for grand landings every tenth step found Pell catching a doe-eyed redhead in her arms. Static music pooled in their brief haphazard clinch. Pell furrowed her brow, suddenly shrugging the girl away. Madison’s silhouette swayed and vanished in the distance. Pell noted the dangling headphones as she mused, “You should tell her to fuck herself if she even looks at you. Scampering away like a kicked puppy will only encourage her.” With a heavy breath Pell grabbed the girls fists and unballed them in spite of the fresh injury on her own hand that had started to slowly throb. Her expression softened. A half-smile yanked at her mouth and released a toothy grin, “You know there’s no class today, right? It’s Ceremony.” She laughed, nudged the girl and continued on her way out. When she passed the ancestry room, Rowe of course was isolated and binging on whatever, mumbling and sinking into a couch cushion.

“You’re going to get fat,” she called wayside, satire in her voice, twang on its extremity, “Throwing things and eating bread isn’t really a real regiment.” Apathetic to everyone, she kind of rolled her eyes. She made her way outside, sun scattering over her skin as she hopped down the front stairs and let the rhythm of her walk catch in her swinging hips. A pair of white sunglasses were pressed onto her face as she looked into the horizon, happy to just get out of the ‘house’ and get some shopping done.

"You're going to get fat," were the words called out that brought him out of his stupor. He had been finally settling in to a sort of dazed state, not asleep but not quite all there, when Pell had come over and spotted him on the couch in his current antisocial glory. He bit back the urge to make a snide comment back and she began to explain her statement. “Throwing things and eating bread isn’t really a real regiment." Rowe rolled his eyes, leaning back and tilting his head so he was looking straight at her without having to get up. There was a group with her, more people than he was used to seeing in one group, but didn't think much of it. If these were the ones left at the school, it would make sense they would all be flocking together to leave. And they were leaving, he was sure of it. Pell wasn't passing by the ancestry room just to bug Rowe, after all.

"Lucky for me I wasn't going for a real regiment," he said, stressing the last word. "Whatever the hell you meant by that."
With that he pushed himself up off the couch and stretched, causing several bones in his arms and neck to crack. It would have probably grossed him out actually, if it wasn't his own body. Pell and her herd were already moving on, and in a last second decision Rowe found himself walking toward the front door himself. On the way out he saw a red headed girl, who looked a bit flustered if he was honest. He couldn't really say why, no one seemed to bugging her in that moment. He paused before nodding at the door and looking at her.
"You coming?" he asked before walking past her to the front door. He stepped out to see Pell bounding- yes, bounding- down the porch steps to the gate. Rowe was watching people leave when the sun caught his eyes, causing him to wince and look down. He hated the sun, mostly because it hurt his eyes. He never could get used to bright lights, and really needed to invest in some sun glasses. Especially here, where it was either straight up burning bright or completely murky. He rarely saw nice "medium" days.

It took him a moment but he finally managed to look somewhat up without having to squint against the light. He walked out the front gate before stopping, realizing he had no where to go. He could obviously follow Pell, but he had no idea where she was going and if he'd have any interest in it. Not to mention he didn't really like big groups of people, and he was sure people would follow her. He didn't mind talking to people, not at all, but when there was too many people he felt kind of overwhelmed. Rowe instinctively reached in his bag for his phone before realizing it wasn't in his bag, it was on the floor. Smashed. Groaning, he decided on where he was going. He was going to go buy a phone, and a cheap ass one at that. He had no doubts that he could end up smashing another phone if he lost his temper, and he wasn't going to go buy another nice phone for it to end up trash.

With a sigh, Rowe began his walk into town, trying in vain to not let the bright sun bother him too much.

Jacqueline watched her maudlin cousin storm out of her own room, just as the dark haired boy entered. She sighed heavly. It didn't take much to set Pell off, it never has and there were countless times Jacqueline run off after her before she did something foolish, but quite frankly, Jacqueline wasn't sure she was up to the task at the moment, she gotten very little sleep, which made for very little patience. Arturo put her in a nasty mood, and while she meant to met up with her to shop, she wasn't about to do it at the moment, not until she calmed a bit.

"There party in here or do you all just live in the same room? The dark haired boy asked and Jacqueline looked at him.

"You must be new." She mused aloud. He was a handsome one, a dark sort of handsome that got girls in trouble. Not unlike Arturo, only as far as Jacqueline was concerned, this lad was accessible and not soaked in magic.

"Dz'is be my cousin's room, now dz'at she's gone, I suggest everyone who does not live 'ere. Vacate. comme maintenant" She said and the tone on her voice, whether they all spoke French or not, told them she meant, 'Like now.'

She gestured to the door before walking out herself. "I am Jacqueline by dz'e way." She said offering her hand to the new boy. " Jacqueline Lavaeu-Ayers. My friends call me, Jacq" She told him.

To Silas's knowledge, he had been called a "freak" to his face exactly three times in his lifetime(Auntie Lavinia always hinted that there had been another, but he hadn't the foggiest idea when that could have been and she certainly wasn't talking). The first had been as a child in the distant memory of Baltimore. A neighbor boy had given him a once-over, judged his little suit and matching cravat poorly, and had thrown the word like a casual bullet- unthinkingly and painful (His mother had refused to make him apologize, tossing out a casual "boys will be boys" cliche. The verbal lashing his aunt had given them- the boy, the mother, and her husband when he eventually came out to see what the ruckus was- has been said to linger over their previous neighborhood as a warning to all disrespectful parents). The second had been an older woman at one of his aunt's parties, too drunk to censor herself (she was never seen within their social circle again). The third, distressingly enough, had been the first date he'd ever been on (a girl, much to the general public's shock), apparently distressed by his refusal to hold hands and the vague, "freaky vibe" he gave off.

Those are, of course, only instances where he's been told he was a freak or, if people were feeling more charitable, was acting like one. The instances where he knew that was what people were thinking, well, he'd quickly lost track of those. They'd been more frequent in Baltimore and sporadic throughout his young adult-hood. Strange looks, leaning away, round-about comments, and pinched facial expressions- yes, he'd become quite the connoisseur. So, that was why he could say with some certainty that he had already made an extremely poor first impression with his roommate and her collection of friends.

Pell was kind about it- really, she was, especially since he hadn't given his own avoidance of skin-to-skin contact the gravity it deserved when slipping on his gloves. And, really, when had telling someone not be be offended ever really work? Her friend with the cigarette, Aden as Silas would later learn from Pell's scoffed reprimand, was decidedly less so. He descended like a particularly rude crow, all black clothes and tattooed flesh, sweeping into the room with a self-assured swagger that Silas was slightly envious of. Silas shifted stiffly on his bed, partially due to the heat (the air conditioning was slowly soothing that ailment right now, although he could feel the sweat cooling unpleasantly under his clothing) and partially due to the general discomfort that was being Silas in a house full of new people. Of course he was for real, Silas thought quite uncharitably, because he hardly thought that anyone would still be wearing a suit in this weather if they weren't terribly committed to being themselves. Or maybe this was more hazing, a more gentle approach than Madison's verbally violent tirade.

There were more people now, apparently materializing into existence since he'd seen none of them during his initial arrival. There was another girl, exceedingly pretty like many of the girls here but in a different way that the fae-like Pell and apparently provocatively testing the boundaries of decency in her outfit. Silas averted his eyes on instinct when her eyes flickered over to him, hands clasped together tightly in his lap as the beginnings of a blush dusted his cheeks. It was probably the way she moved that did it, aware of how she looked and embracing it bodily. Her arrival was followed by a broad and casual invitation from Pell, something about Ceremony meals and boutiques to drag the straggling students out into town.

Before anyone could answer, another person, a man in all senses of the word with a mix of height and muscles that would have sent Auntie Lavinia's female friends into a flurry of tittering giggles and fanning motions. Definitely not a student, Silas decided as the man leveled a casual warning about cigarette smoke on those in the room (good on him for that because the only foul smelling smoke he'd ever gotten used to was his Aunt's incense). And, really, was everyone here a model or something? Silas found himself craving the presence of Ms. Snow's, his aunt, his prior social circle, all attractive in their own, unique way, in a way that he was used to, and in a way didn't make him feel like a gangly mess in nice clothes that were starting to wrinkle from a long day of traveling.

Okay, perhaps they weren't all model-like, he was forced to admit when their first guest (the only one for both himself and Pell if only because the others seemed intent on ignoring him or, in the case of Aden, poking at him) finally spoke. But even he was admittedly attractive if in a slightly raggedy-andy sort of way. He finally spoke amidst the chaos of people apparently using his new room as a social hot-spot, words slow-coming and simple, gestures applied in such a way that this could easily be a silent pantomime and Silas still would have understood the implications. It wasn't really off-putting and Silas found himself standing once again, moving to shake the other boy's hand. Perhaps it was desperation on his part, but the very fact that he'd met someone who seemed genuinely glad that he was here and not simply tolerant or curious was one of the highlights of his week let alone his day.

"Yes, I'm Silas. I'm very delighted to meet you, Kyle," He said, the same enthusiasm that had been dramatically tamped down by Madison's verbal lashing, Pell's casually cool demeanor, and the general attitudes of his new classmates bubbling back to the surface. The handshake was far less awkward that his greeting with Pell if only because the gloves were already on his hands and he didn't look like a particularly insane and paranoid germaphobe.

There was a moment when Kyle's smile and friendly gaze died on his face leaving Silas confused and a bit weary- had it been something that he'd done?- before it reappeared, much to Silas's relief. The offer of a tour was a ray of sunshine during a dreary day, a way to find out about the place he would be staying and, alternatively, an excuse not to tag along with the town outing. It wasn't that he didn't like Pell, no, she was a very lovely person as was everyone here probably, but he didn't want to try her her patience by tagging along like a particularly lost puppy, a responsibility rather than a friend to pal around with at this point.

"Yes, please," he replied, smile growing larger in his relief. "I'd love a tour."

Oh, bother, and now there was someone else in their room, another Adonis-like man sweeping in with a line so casually fitting the situation that Silas was left with lingering traces of envy. And then no one was putting out their cigarettes which was a shame, really, and left Silas wanting to inch towards the window and crack it open just a bit (either that or pull out one of the incense sticks or scented candles Auntie Lavinia had stashed away in his luggage). He might have too if it weren't for the fact that the curtains were on fire. Well, were on fire in the past tense. Right now they were just ash on the floor.

The room went silent, the cacophony of predominantly Southern voices fading. The only movement in the room was Pell, sucking on her cigarettes before letting the noxious fumes flow into the only real adult in the room's face before crushing the burning stick in her hands. Silas could practically smell the singed flesh it left behind as Pell sashayed from the room, a purse in her unhurt hand and a lingering jab. To say that he was stunned wouldn't be fair- he'd seen far worse from people he knew far better, but he was left in a bit of a daze. This entire day had left him in a bit of a daze, this entire week as well. And now his roommate, arguably the person he knew best at this point, had somehow incinerated their curtains and left her gaggle of acquaintances and friends in their shared room without a second glance.

The only other girl in the room, the only one to have truly been invited in apart from Kyle, quickly ordered everyone out (most likely to follow after Pell on her trek into town) and if Silas had been more comfortable in the situation or knew her any better he would have thanked her heartily for saying what he didn't have the courage to say himself. But he didn't know her and her attention was on prettier prizes than Silas.

He had three choices now, that much was clear. One, he could hide in his room until he couldn't anymore. Two, he could follow Pell and probably the crowd into the world outside in search of new curtains. Or, three, he could see if the only person he trusted to not either leave him stranded somewhere or lock him in a closet for fun was still up for that tour and, if not, go with plan two. And if that didn't work, plan one still existed.

"I don't suppose," He said, words a little abrupt at first before he finally shook off the last remnants of surprise, "I can still have that tour?" He turned to Kyle, eyes full of hope like a puppy begging for scraps.

The new kid, Silas, struck up an easy conversation with Kyle, and Aden didn't blame him - Kyle was easy to get along with. The boy genuinely liked people, was easily excitable, blah blah blah. Silas seemed to take to his friendly demeanor minor faster than he had to any of the others. Which was slightly ironic, if only because Kyle was probably the least normal person around the metaphorical dinner table. But, to each their own.

Pell lost her cool as quick as the flames that struck up in the room. Aden settled back on her bed, leaning on his forearms, watching with an amused smirk around his cigarette as she tried her damnedest to keep it together. He wasn't sure what had set her off, wasn't even sure he cared, but perhaps her 'practicing control' pitch had been true after all.

She was gone in a wave of smoke to the wolf's face that brought a grin to Aden's ever so stoic expression. He probably would have pulled that one himself if he had left first. That was the reason why he hated Pell just a little less than the others - she had just as much problem with authority as he did.

Jaq was talking to a guy he didn't know, someone who showed up just as the drama was descending, but she had a good point mixed in her accented english -- they were crowded in a room that wasn't theirs, and as the main room holder had made her very dramatic exit, it was only fair that they follow after her.

With a sigh, Aden pushed himself off the bed, pulled his cigarette from his lips and smirked at DeGari as he passed. "Trust me. If we wanted to burn the academy down, a couple of cigarette's are the least of your worries." Just as he was about to leave though, a thought occurred to Aden. He had no where to go. Back to his perch, where Mr. B would undoubtedly find him again, or into town with the others. With a sigh, he shot a look over his shoulder. "Hey, Zombie Boy, I'm going on that tour with you."