{ OUTFIT } || { #AB9694 }
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Nestled in the city of Portland, there lies a quiet little street, or at the very least quiet for the time being during the morning hours, removed from the typical hustle and bustle of the Mundane and Magical worlds colliding on Union Pathway. Yes, you could still hear the call of traffic, the constant noise of people making their way from point A to point B or just wandering – whether they be tourists taking in the sights or residents content to be lost. The point remains that the street that would grow more colorful as the day grew longer is relatively quieter, the roar of the city dulled almost to a murmur of background noise. And, on today, if you were to be on that street, you could also hear a green-fire crackling to life as the Floo Station became in use. Inside said fireplace was eighteen-year-old Maximus Alderward, his attention firmly on dusting the soot from his travel coat before stepping out into the shop’s main pallor room.
Unlike most people his age attending Remington, Maximus wasn’t spending his early morning sleeping in, or exercising, or studying, or some manor of careless frivolity, of just doing whatever, consequences be damned. He was traveling from an impromptu weekend trip his father, Raucus, had required of him as a learning experience of the families business venture; returning back to the preferred predictability that his life had gained over the past few years upon attending the school, though he personally doubted the ability that he would arrive on time by this point. But it was safe, it was structured, it was comforting, and, most of all, it was home, a better home…
Dark eyes flickered towards the desk where an elderly wizard waited, and upon catching glances, the man stood from his seat and disappeared into the backroom, while Max strode up to come to an idle halt, feet spread and hands tied loosely behind his back as he waited patiently. It wasn’t long before the gentleman returned carrying an aged, but respectable Nimbus broom that he passed it over the counter to the young man who took it up in a light grip. “Thank you,” He mused, softly, as he flicked his fingers to spill a few coins unto the top to convey his appreciation further (though he need not, because he’d already paid more than enough for the Broom’s safety in his absence). Turning on his heels, Maximus made his way outdoors, and it wasn't long before he was airborne, flying steady without woe of being seen because such an occurrence was not an uncommon sight for the Mundanes anymore, returning to Remington.
Quite unlike the mundane-born Gypsy’s entrance mere moments before, Maximus’ late arrival into the classroom was a far subtler entrance. His broom and travel coat, minus the ‘fur-lining’ around his neck of Oscar, his familiar, having awoken in a “fine” mood of hackles raised and teeth barred in an unwelcoming snarl as he dutifully trotted at his heels, had been left in his boarding room – the same place a new addition of a messenger bag, full of books and notebooks and self-inking quills, was collected for the day’s use. But his attire was one of a proper member of the Purus class was expected to wear (if somewhat less expensive than most, even though he could’ve afforded more), and was following the school’s dress-code to a ‘T’.
Max flicked a glance down towards Oscar with a pointed look, and the familiar reluctantly obliged (at least this time) to curl into a discontented ball of fluff and righteous anger besides two other familiars, dog-Crup hybrids, to wait for his owners’ return at the end of the lesson. With that taken care of, he slipped into the Divination classroom without a physical word, but managed an apologetic nod to Professor Kang during the midst of her announcements – as he snatched his floating paper out of the air, and he took a seat in one of the few remaining open. Happening beside Torrence, to whom he offered a friendly tilt of his head of a silent ‘Good morning’. The two weren’t necessarily friends, but acquaintances that got on quite well and understood each other on a basic level more or less. The seating arrangement could have been far worse, given how late he’d arrived.
Maximus took a quick, appraising moment at his paper, finding his grading to be adequate yet again, before stuffing it into his bag; in return a book, promptly flipped to the page they would be looking at for the day, notebook, and quill, were removed in turn for the class. As the steaming teapot, three cups appeared, and no immediate offer calling for his attention to join a different group of three - he stayed put where he was with Torrence, reaching for the teapot to pour his own cup before carefully passing it to the other boy so he could serve himself as well. He gingerly sipped the hot liquid, blowing on his occasionally, as his eyes flicked back and forth over the page(s) - reacquainting his knowledge of the old-school tasseography, before reading could commence when the tea had been drunk.