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Snippet #2814585

located in USA, a part of encounters, one of the many universes on RPG.

USA

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Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Bernadette Dubois Character Portrait: Yael Yahalom
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It was the first day of the fall semester, and Yael was simultaenously eager and dispassionate about it. She loved the feeling of success, and she loved her major, but Yael didn't necessarily have the personality of a traditionally diligent and hard-working student. That was not to say that she wasn't high-achieving; she just didn't roll as well in the school environment as some of her peers did.

The next class she would be going to truly excited Yael, though; the professor had all the necessary credentials and beyond, and was well-known in the art world. Having such an incredible opportunity sent adrenaline pumping through her veins.

Yael walked into the lecture hall, quickly scanning the rows of seats for anyone she recognized. She caught sight of a familiar face in the third row and immediately tooked the seat next to the owner of said face.

"Oh, hey Yael," the Russian boy turned in his seat, offering his hand for Yael to clasp. Veniamin Sokolovsky was the son of famous oil painter, Ivan Sokolovsky; he was a Russian foreign exchange student attending Olympus for its highly acclaimed art program. Admittedly, Yael had made contact with Ven purely due to his lineage at first, but they sustained their friendship through compatible personalities rather than their respective backgrounds.


"How was your summer, Ven?" Yael and Ven weren't the kinds of friends who texted often, but they definitely hung out whenever they saw each other in public.

"My father took us to Siberia," Ven groaned. "He made us go to the Arctic circle."

Yael furrowed a brow, running a hand through her wild curls.
"Um . . . why?"

"It was for some painting study he wanted to do, and he dragged us along," Ven complained. "I get spending a couple of weeks somewhere -- but two months? In the Arctic? No, just no."

Before Yael could even open her mouth to respond, the doors of the lecture hall opened dramatically to reveal a middle-aged man dressed in a flowing navy blue trench coat. His build seemed to be accentuated by the choice of clothing, and his skin was dark, easily darker than Yael's. His face was angular and roman, but it his forehead with wrinkled deeply with extensive crevices. His hair was a smattering of silver amongst a sea of dark brown, and his eyes were a piercing, obsidian black. Yael immediately recognized the man purely from his silhouette, and it seemed many others in the hall did as well, with the way they all hushed to a sudden silence.

"I am Navdeep Chaudhary," the man spoke, his words sharp and slightly tinged with an Indian accent. Yael paid attention to every word the man said as he went through his syllabus and what to expect out of his class. She was usually not one to be enraptured to the point where she could focus completely on a professor, but Navdeep Chaudhary was another breed of teacher -- Yael would say that he was only a single tier below Renold Treithon, her idol, as an artist.

"This year's biggest project will be a group project," Professor Chaudhary proclaimed; that was the only time the students in the room murmured in dissent, but they were quickly silenced by the professor's sharp glare.

"It will take up most of the year," he continued. He paused heavily as the rest of the room waited in anticipation for the rest of his speech. "As you know, this class is not open to everyone. Only the best are allowed in. Therefore, I have had the opportunity to study your profiles extensively. Using this knowledge, I hope that the groups I've chosen for you are fitting."

The students did not murmur in dissent this time -- instead, they were shocked to have assigned partners for a fourth-year group project in such an exclusive class. Yael shared the same sentiment; she thought that they would be generally independent, with some occasional but very helpful guidance from the professor.

"The pairing with the highest grade will receive an opportunity to personally meet Renold Treithon."

That statement shook everyone out of their trance-like states. Ven turned to Yael; they stared at each other wide-eyed, knowing full well what this opportunity meant to each other.

"I will list off your partners," Professor Chaudhary said, taking out a paper list. Everyone was immediately shaken out of their chattering as they leaned forward to hear the names.

"Veniamin Sokolovsky and Pilar Morales."

Ven groaned quietly under his breath, and gave Yael a foreboding look. Yael gave him a shrug as she let the other names she was hearing float past her; all she cared about what who she was paired with.

"Yael Yahalom . . . and Bernadette Dubois."