Lucien Magnaventus's Story

Toby made a concentrated effort to make eye contact with each of the professors as they entered, and smile with a half nod.
Just about all of them looked like some manner of badass, except maybe the Moore necromancer, the blanched young woman (hooray; a professor probably younger than he), and Madison, though Toby knew looks to be deceiving on that front.

Oren's quiet, sarcastic comment about a great start to the year didn't escape Toby. He tried hard to pretend it wasn't directed against him, and tried harder not to tense as she sat beside her. "I'm sure it will be looking up once everyone is into the swing of things," he said lightly.

This was fine.

No it wasn't.
She sort of terrified him.

When Madison had finished his rundown, Toby adjusted his crisp while collar with a fluttery hand. Time for introductions and such. To get it over with, he stood to his full, not insignificant height. Even staring several heads above the seated crowd, he managed to feel little.

"Hello. I just wanted to elaborate a bit on familiar policies. I'm Professor Schippers, by the way. I'll be t - teaching Runes and Familiar Conjuration this year, and I look forward to seeing many of you in - class. Ahm." He tried not to let his eyeline linger on any face for more than a second. That way he couldn't have time to read what any of those faces said. "As Professor Lovette said--thank you, by the way--all summonings must be either unsummoned or left securely in your quarters during any period except Familiars, and be properly restrained or trained so as not to disrupt other students or their property, unless you have prior permission," he added, he hoped offhandly, not wanting to embarrass or put on the spot the only student in the room who had such permission. "You're welcome to have familiars active during free time. If you do have a c - complaint about a c - classmate's or roommate's familiar, you're welcome to speak with me during office hours to work out a c - compromise. So. Thanks."

And he sat down with the relief of a drowning man breaking the surface of the sea.
Cursed be the letter "C" today.

The library’s confined space made it easier to get a grasp of just how many students were attending. Not a big school. Tover tried his best to get comfterable in the library chair. The furniture all look very much the same, and well matched. Regardless, being at the left most end of the table, he had an easy view of everyone that came through the open Library doors far off to his right.

He recognized some, watching quietly as people settled into small groups. Always nice to see people making friends and trying to get along, it sucked to be alone.

The extra chair he’d taken for their table ended up being useful. Mitch got settled in just fine, although Tover’s eyes were latched onto apple. Curling up around Mitch’s ankles, looking like the little critter was about to take a nap. Kind of cute~ those fluffy fronds were adorable antenna, twitching lightly. He couldn’t help but mention it to the table.

Apple is pretty adorable curled up like that. All snuggled up around your leg. I was a little off-balance from first meetings, but he looks rather pleasant to have around. With how he was eating earlier, I’ll save some of my failed baking experiments as treats.

He was going to mention more, but was distracted by Jason’s interaction with Jasmine and Percy as they got together. For roughly the same reason as why his ears picked up Larke’s suaveness. He couldn’t talk like that, and it evoked a feeling of minor jealousy. He hadn’t met some of those people, but couldn’t hide the surprise on his face with how many people seemed to already know one another. Also, how many were so unbelievably shy. Granted, he’d only bitten through that not too long ago himself.

The girl that backed him up in the cafeteria had slid up to Professor Lovette and asked an unexpected question. Apparently didn’t know she was a mage? At least, that’s what he was putting together from the conversation pieces he could catch. Even if she felt out of place, Tov was up for trying to make friends with her later. He didn’t know what to tell her right now, and more than just Jennifer seemed like they could benefit from words like that. When it came up again, making her feel like she fit in wouldn’t be effort poorly spent. Friends were good to have.

Someone with white hair looked like he was stammering through his words at a different table. Tover only caught pieces of the person he believed called himself Seraph, appeared to feel equally out of place. Physically they’d found themselves groups, but that didn’t equal comfort. Yet they seemed to be talking and engaging with their groups, and talking was good. Talking was progress.

When the room went dark and the presentation began by Professor Lovette, Tover scooted when Dawn, Tessa, and Desi took their seats in order to make sure the table had the room. Comfort washed over his general demeanor. He had only hoped they would actually come along, but was so incredibly glad that they did.

With the exception of any prescribed medications, no drugs are allowed on school grounds.
Boys and girls are prohibited from entering the other's’ dorms.
no sexual activity
Arrive to class on time.
Do not break school curfew.
You are forbidden to leave campus, with the exception of school mandated events.
If you happen to have any personal firearms or weapons, please check them in with Professor Avalon or Professor Byrne to be approved.
No summons are allowed within class, with the exception of Familiar Conjuration.
No reckless use of magic of any kind.
Fights are also prohibited, save for any instructed by Professor Byrne.
Lastly, please show respect to your peers, as well as your professors- no matter background, ethnicity, sexuality, and so on.

He paid attention to the presentation, sure, but before Madison was done with his words Tov heard the odd sounds of cloth weights hitting the ground. It was out of place and made him look the other way to where Minori was leaning.

White hair? Book frowned at the sight of the sheepish girl with no less than three animal planet bags. Not because he was upset, but because a pattern had just presented itself. To his knowledge, white’ish hair, or variations of it were not naturally occurring. He normally didn’t see it other than looking in a mirror, and now there were four to five people in close proximity that had the trait? His voice had a note of perplexed confusion in it, mixed with avid curiosity.

Is white hair a side-effect of being a mage or something?

After the mention Tover pushed his chair away with a dull scrape along the carpet, having a different thought while still looking over his shoulder at the newest student. She was half-hidden against the wall in clothes that looked like she traveled around. More importantly, she must have been a recent arrival. His face and expression perked up, like a bunch of gears all started turning at the same time.
A look manifested in Tover's eyes that one day people would recognize at mere glance.
An idea for the greater good had just formulated, and it needed prompt execution.

I’ll.. be right back.

Tover didn’t hurry after he’d unsealed himself from the old bulky chair, a small pastry box snatched out of his bag before walking over. He tightened and subsequently loosened his striped tie on the way, and raised his hand up to the girl with white hair as he approached. Book tried to keep his voice down enough to not evoke teacher Ire, but with enough give to be heard over whatever chatter might be going on. Feeling unwanted right as you arrived was a terrible feeling; he was going to mitigate that if possible.

Heya, I’m Tover.
His ghostly eyes darted over her as he got close enough to take in details details, eating up the information. Travel clothes, cheek scar, tight grip, luggage with her, late arrival, didn’t have time to eat breakfast, uncomfterable, needs a social entry.
Tover rose the pastry box up, giving it to her to break the ice on the conversation.
Didn’t see you during breakfast, have a pastry to tide you over.

He half-turned to his side and pointed at seat near Jesse and Esperanza. Jesse being the one who had an expression on her face like she just had an existential crisis.
Your bags will be safe if you just leave them in the corner here. We won’t let anyone run off with them. If you’re looking for a place to sit, try next to the distraught girl with the small animal in her hoodie. She looks like she needs someone who likes animals to talk to.
He hard-glanced to her animal planet bags to drive home the point that Minori could easily make a friend right now. Tover smiled gently and stepped out of the way after pointing it out, giving her a clean path of travel.
Oh, and Welcome to Marchand. If you don’t like pastries, give it to someone. You’ll make a friend.

Draivess lent his shoulders a bit of rest, rolling them back gently as he held his crossed arms resolutely. He gazed about emotionlessly at all of the gathered students. Really just looking at them for the sake of something for his eyes to do, though truthfully he was also assessing each of them, mere seconds holding analysis and opinion of a whole handful of students at a time. He gave a cursory glance to the other teachers, searching their faces for any sign of them actually starting any time soon. Madison looked as though he were about to say something, when a quiet voice spoke up, interrupting the cross-dresser. Why Mr. Lovette dabbled in women's fashion was rather beyond Draivess, but it was not as though he were going to be asking.

At the student’s explanation, Dry quirked an eyebrow. Was this student for real? She really had no idea that she was a mage? Drey could have scoffed with disbelief had he not been in front of hundreds of students at that moment. His face remained blank as always. This girl was going to get steamrolled. His gaze slid away from the two, tuning out Madi’s words as they weren’t relevant to him. He could only pray that the small girl would be in neither of his classes, for gods knew he wouldn’t have the patience to deal with her skittish nature nor her absolute lack of everything that pertained to them and their entire world.

The room suddenly darkened, but Drey did not shift his position in the slightest. He already knew what was happening; he had been briefed on the introductory lecture earlier. Lovette went through the list of rules, having obviously practiced it beforehand in order to deliver it to perfection on the day. It showed a high level of professionality and a sharp respect for the job he and the other teachers were doing here. Dry kept his gaze solely on the sea of students before him, lips a stern, straight line, but no malice or irritation showed in his features. He wanted to see how the students responded, but for the most part they remained silent, some nodding while others just kept their focus on the front of the room. At least they were paying attention.

Mad’s voice filled the room once more then, asking if any of the teachers had something to add to the general rules. Of all of the teachers, it was Toby who stepped up first. Drey was a little surprised at this, since from what very little he knew of the man-- and of all of the other teachers for that matter-- he had seemed to be somewhat shy and subordinate. He had expected another to take the lead, but perhaps the smaller man had managed to gather up his courage and didn’t want to take the chance of losing it with time. Nonetheless, the man still stumbled and stuttered a bit throughout the speech, but that seemed to just be something to expect with Schippers. Draivess couldn’t help but glance over towards him when he finished. The man looked utterly relieved, seeming to confirm Drey’s suspicions about courage. He was glad that the little teacher had managed to get through it with so few bumps.

However, as Toby finished and sat back down, Drey waited for another teacher to speak up, and fully expected this to happen. Yet, he waited… and waited… and waited. Was no one really stepping up yet? It seemed as though they had left Toby hanging. In reality it had not been too terribly long since Toby had finished, but it was getting to the point where they were quickly approaching a sort of awkward silence, about 20 to 25 seconds later. Drey did not bother to look at the other teachers during this, simply keeping his arms crossed and looking forward at the students. He really didn’t want to be the next to speak, in fact had planned on going sometime last, but he was not about to leave a colleague hanging, or, furthermore, let any student think that they didn’t have full control of the situation or were even hesitant about this introduction.

So, Mr. Ulftern stepped forward with absolute ease, confidence and comfort very apparent in his body language. It gave the very strong impression that they had intended for the small lull, had let the seconds pass by in order to instill the seriousness of Familiar matters, had used the time to look over the students and ensure they understood. It had not been a time to become lax in attention. After all, almost every aspect of what they were teaching was dangerous, and every single one of them should be taken with the utmost seriousness and respect. Failure to do so would result in injury or death, and gods knew Draivess had enough of both for six lifetimes, whether in sheer number or lasting effects.

”Draivess Ulftern,” His voice rang out with strength and poise, demanding the attention of the students there as he introduced himself. There was no mistaking him for a man who wasn’t in charge. He didn’t seem to be particularly fazed about peculiarities with his name either, having purposely left out any ‘Professor’ or ‘Instructor’. In even his first words, his German accent was very pronounced, but it was clear and concise, easily understood and not hindering him in any manner of getting his point across. ”Levitation or Poisons? You are mine.” His voice was rich and full, but still it was clear that English wasn’t his primary language-- thus the strange choice of wording. ”My English will not always be perfect, but it will not be problem.” The expression of his form was so confident that indeed, surely there would be absolutely no reason for any student to find a problem with communicating with him. He almost seemed bored as he said this, as though to intone that ‘duh, of course it won’t, why would you ever think it would?’ in both the smoothness of his voice and the command he seemed so easily to wield over himself and the room while he held it.

The muscled German leveled his gaze specifically at the students then as he continued, ”Toxins will not be practiced outside of their specifically marked locations unless otherwise stated with supervision.” He shifted his posture lightly, uncrossing his arms and standing comfortably. ”I expect full respect to be given to mineself and my colleagues, and full attention imparted upon all aspects of teacher-student meetings and classes.” He was driving this particular rule in sharply by repeating it—it almost seemed directed at a particular white-haired student who had gotten up to go and interact with a very late arrival sometime between Lovette and Schipper’s speeches-- before moving his gaze and adding, “You’ll find me terribly disappointed if that’s not the case,” Draivess spoke this part as if he were giving a little pout, though almost with a playful smirk. He finished that thought then with, ”And absolutely unmerciful.” Any coyness about his prior remark dropped with the tone of absoluteness coming in when he completed said statement here. Strong, direct, and no room for negotiation in the things he had stated during his introduction. With a curt nod, he stepped back and slipped his hands into the pockets of his trousers, having said his part and now allowing the next teacher to step up.

"Catch up later?" Toby asked, and Captain Byrne gave a brief nod of affirmation as the students began filing in. Some, she picked out based on their distinctive family features or prior meetings: Sterling, Fox, Anapa, Botrelle, Avalon, Sayge, Belvadeer, and a few others. Kovalenko and Lovette were speaking to her. Some late-comers filed in. The remaining teachers, too.

A dull ringing began whispering in her left ear as she took her seat, and passed to the right.

The blind girl from the roster made herself immediately apparent, judging by the small monstrosity curled around her chair. It would be a problem for combat.

The smell of copper rushed through Maeve's nasal passages just as the lights went out, and the taste of it coated her tongue in a sudden and slick burst.

Her hand shot out to grasp the seat of Professor Kovalenko's chair beside her for a split second and then-

Nothing.

Professor Byrne's eyes locked onto a table of students she had been formerly only glancing over, pupils growing wide with a wildness only accented by the head of fiery red hair fuming out behind her. If the Belvadeer boy were to turn to look at his combat instructor, he would find her staring at him (or perhaps through him?) with a predatory intensity. Under the table, the fingers of her left hand curled and uncurled at her side, in a rapid and inconsistent rhythm. The rest of her body was rigid, muscles coiled like some great, orange lioness ready to spring.

She remained like that, staring directly at the boy, for the entirety of Lovette and Schipper's speeches, as well as the long pause that followed them. In fact, her stare did not break until the tail end of what Draivess was saying, at which point it dissolved with a series of rapid blinks and a shiver of her back.

Her grip on Kovalenko's chair disappeared, and her eyes moved over to Mr. Ulftern.

She didn't know much about the guy: Curt in staff meetings; had a high collaborator death count in the war. Generally not her first pick of Defenders, to be honest, but she wasn't on the hiring committee.

Pretentious bastard.

After taking a hard swallow, she pushed her chair back and stood. Her eyes narrowed and she leaned in forward toward the class, fists knuckle-down against the table as she shamelessly let it be known that she was inspecting them.

"Captain Maeve Brigid Byrne," she said, her vowels clipped sharp and bright by an unforgiving Irish accent, "Captain Byrne, Professor Byrne, and 'sir,' are also acceptable titles." As she straightened up, the now-unbuttoned collar of her shirt shifted to the side for a brief moment, revealing the top edge of a black-inked tattoo peeking over her clavicle. "I'll be your instructor for combat and Aeromancy, so every one of you in this room will be seeing me for at least one course.

"Considering that, it will serve you well to know that I take this quite seriously. You will be handling firearms, swords, daggers, and the forces of bloody nature itself, so if you've got an issue with taking instruction, you're going to have an issue with passing my course. I am not your Mommy, your friend, or your nursemaid, and I will not 'go easy' on any one of you without a very, very good reason.

"That being said, if you have any such reason, you may fill out the form beside my office in the gym by the end of the school day. If it is not filled out, I will assume you are fit to take full-force hits in combat as of tomorrow."

As she finished speaking, she rolled one shoulder so that the joint gave an audible crack, and then took her seat.

"I'll assume I'm understood."

Dami watched both Toby and Draivess speak without much outward response. He had heard of both men before, had not been aware that they would be his coworkers, but now was not the time to ponder. Maeve, on the other hand – she was hard to miss, and said her piece very characteristically, he thought. Very much like the woman herself. He stepped up next, drew his cloak over his shoulders, and released into the room the cold aura of a practising necromancer, the whispers of the dead rising in his ears.

“I’m Damien Moore.” His voice was calm, but there was a smile in his eyes and on his lips as he looked around the room, letting his cloak fall open again as the chill faded. “I will be teaching Necromancy and Healing, and I can assure you of a proficiency in both, no matter what is said about their conflicting natures” he flippantly gestured with his fingers, then moved his hands to his hips. “I’d also like to address the rule on sexual activity. You are all young people and undoubtedly, some of you are rather curious about sex and are thinking this will be a good testing ground for your newly discovered urges. A word of advice, don’t. A vast majority of you are the heirs and heiresses of powerful lines. Your parents will undoubtedly be most displeased if you become too entangled with one another. In addition, Marchand School of Sorcery has a full disclosure policy in regards to parents knowing their student’s health. If by some twist of fate we end up with a pregnancy, all parents and family heads of both involved students will be invited to the school. At lunchtime, they will be congratulated on their upcoming heir and the future union between lines. Everyone will know, and carelessness will receive no aid from staff. On the other hand, if someone can’t keep it in their pants and forces you into unwanted sexual contact, report to professor Avalon immediately. There is no tolerance for completed or attempted sexual misconduct, or false reports of such. The slighted party will be allowed to design and inflict a creative punishment within reasonable limits after an adult trial by the Council of Eight Powers has been completed. Those of you without reputations, don’t get involved. You will not fare well if your romance is anything less than fairytale perfect.”

His eyes flashed in the dim lights as he looked around the room, making eye contact with students to ensure they were paying attention. Dami was more sympathetic than most when it came to youthful sexuality. That did not, however, mean he wanted to deal with the scandal it could bring, when young people were too curious and things got too serious, too fast. They had a job to do here, and dealing with future generations younger than 14 was not on that list.

Satisfied with his speech, he once again smiled brightly, enthusiasm flooding his voice. “I look forward to seeing you in my classes! Welcome to Marchand!” he greeted, and spun, cloak swirling dramatically, ending up back in his place, and looking pleased to be there.

"I'm Minori. Thank you for the food" The “you’re welcome” Tover thought of didn’t slip out. Thrown off by the small grin before Minori quickly wrapped her arms around him in a brief hug. "Thank you," she’d whispered before letting go. His automatic responses had left his lips like clockwork, but this, this was a wrench in the gears of the factory and the foreman didn’t know what to do.

He’d gotten as far as getting the heads up her name was Minori, and that he’d made a good call with being inviting. The sudden hug made his world spin and twist, still feeling the lingering sensation of pressure that tingled on his skin after she’d let go and devoured the avenue of opportunity he’d provided her.

It wasn’t a bad feeling.

He didn’t mind this.

The feeling of a thousand eyes all stabbing him in the back? He minded that. With a clench of the hands, Tover went straight to tie-fidgeting and straightening up into a half turn so his shoulder was aimed at the speaker. His eyes couldn’t help but take the moment to flicker to Minori. She’d gotten settled. End of the Line. Now what was this lumbering mountain of German-accented bricks all about?

It was so difficult to see in this half-light, eyes forced to squint. Sure you could see some, but details were made entirely of backlit grey. That was more than enough to catch the more-important-than-thou gait, strut, and stance. Tone? What? What was with that sudden change in general feel in the air?

You didn’t need to be an Aeromancer to feel that the vibe just got noosed. Mr. Lovette spoke with a kindness and softhearted intelligence. Someone you’d trust to vent your frustrations and bothers to. Schippers was a substitute teacher getting his first real chance at a real job. Or at least that’s what it felt like. General demeanor said smart cookie. Definitely still in the ‘Teacher’ bracket.

Not this.

What the fuck was this.

”Draivess Ulftern,”
Okay. An introduction. Why the iron tone? Something felt weird here.
”Levitation or Poisons? You are mine.”

If there was a way to make an enemy out of Tover. Telling him his agency and will didn’t matter was a surefire way to do it. There was only one person who could step on him like that, and he wasn’t interested in a repeat performance.
A breath was taken. Maybe not what was meant?
The first inklings of discomfort had settled in, a frown plastered on his brows and general expression. The inkling went to blaring dangernoodles when he got leered at straight on, after which the sense of discomfort flatout altered to agitation.
“I expect full respect to be given”
Well brick house over there was going to have to deal with being terribly disappointed, because that’s not how respect works, and outright demanding it was not the way to foster it. It was however, definitely the way to.. what.. holdon. Did I hear that right?”

”And absolutely unmerciful.”
Tover’s face went from solidly agitated to defiantly shocked. Threats? Why the hell are *Teachers * threatening students over something.. so..so..
No. It wasn’t just the line delivered. It had been –How- it was delivered. With a sense of absoluteness and cemented rigidity a competent teacher would never develop built right into the words. There was no wiggle room. No room for opinion, argument, or growth. There was Ulftern’s Will, or there was nobody.

Tover felt cold. Unwanted and cold. Not that it was cold, just that the pleasant warm fuzz from earlier has just been eaten away. He hadn’t been wrong, and the little hope that he might have been iced over and felt crushed under a boot.

Conclusions on initial reactions came swift. Unless that thing calling itself a teacher proved to be otherwise, he wanted nothing to do with that guy. Anything or anyone that desired to step on his will with that kind of absolute intensity, deserved only his hate. He’d figure Telekinesis out himself if there was no other teacher.

He needed to sit.
Pointless.
He coulden’t move, much less get back to his table.
Emotions were rooting him to the spot. Internal pangs and tingles of sadness, anger, restraint, and the inability to do that last one burdening his heart and his head. There was only standing there, and watching, and hope that had been an anomaly.

-

"Captain Maeve Brigid Byrne"

Jesus fucking Christ.

Tover sat on the God-Damn luggage. Emotions were still spilling over the floor in his head trying to scrape all the papers they spilled off the floor. Then quietly receded when dread slunk its fingers around the corner of the main hallway.
The same introduction style, but this one was “Captain.”

"I'll be your instructor for combat and Aeromancy, so every one of you in this room will be seeing me for at least one course.

Oh dear god.
Tover wasn’t religious. Atleast. Not yet? But was the Majority of the staff here Military? The pattern became a possibility with how this turn of events suddenly played out. Also another one with a strong accent. Irish? Irish. The hair alone had enough grit in it to fell a small tree.

He’d be seeing her at minimum Twice. At least she didn’t outright demand respect, just a title and that she was.. well. Captain behavior. The allowance of a way to wiggle out was unexpected. The rest wasn’t as much as a shock after the prior presenter. Obviously not in the teacher bracket, and she dealt with his useless primary to boot? The sarcasm oozed out of his voice.

Grand.

-
“I’m Damien Moore.”
“I will be teaching Necromancy and Healing.”
Tover didn’t know rainbows could give birth. Apparently he was wrong. Moore’s way of being didn’t actually bother him, rather what kept being said in this presentation was. This was starting to feel like oppression. Even if they didn’t mean it the way he heard it, it was My way My way My way. I demand your respect, I demand your attention, I demand you not put your fingers into the puddle and cause trouble.

He’d been interested in healing before. He was considering not going with the idea of shadow step. He didn’t know much about some of the secondaries, so aside from levitation they were fairly fluid.

He wanted to fly, after all.

The enthusiastic and boisterous welcome felt like a dismissal more than an actual welcome. There was no cape fancy enough to twirl or swirl dramatically that did not make him feel unwelcome and unwanted.

Don’t mix bloodlines?
Then you shouldn’t have put them all together.
It was moot. He was just agitated and venting at nothing. He hadn’t even though of significant others or anything of the sort until that uncomfterable-ass speech by the flamboyancomancer.

-

Tov shoved off the luggage and got up after rubbing fingers over his temples some. He had a headache. The feeling of being rooted was fading, now if ever was a good time. Atleast until the cafeteria frostguard stabbed him with a mental icicle.

"Are you all quite finished talking and handing out food?

Oh Come on.

Tover didn’t think his stomach could sink much lower. Not one, but two daggers in his back just because he didn’t wanted someone to feel unwelcome. What kind of garbage school was thi… Oh. Some gears turned.

Not a school?

The thought lingered as Kovalenko spoke her due. On top of that, she taught SS? So none of the things he was actually interested in learning was being taught with someone able to see him as a person. A bit of a harsh initial judgment, but Tov wasn’t feeling the best right now.

Wall and Lock wards.
Magic security.
Sure.
Are we even surprised at this point.

The sudden twist to different professor was unexpected.

Oh it was the one with similar-looking hair. A Professor Farran. Who.. sounded like it walked off the exact same boat Mr. Schippers had. A temp that became a full hire? Teacher bracket. Didn’t Iron-Fist unlike the other few. Blood Magic was several degrees of not his thing. About on the same level on necromancy for things he wanted to keep at arms length.

-

Avalon was up next. Kept it cold and quick for a man who taught history. MWI had some interesting notes to it, but he didn’t think it was going to be for him. Had it just been really really quiet?

Survival needs trumped emotional discord when everyone in the vicinity just up and completely changed patterns. Suddenly there was movement, action, panicked faces. Why no sound. Nobody was making sound. No. Nothing was making sound. Where did.. Kovalenko? No. Although she set the precedent for teachers using mass-scale abilities to prove a point.
Kov. Cold. Aquamancy.
Lovette. Warm. Pyro.
Avalon. Silence. Trickery?
Nothing else he knew of could tamper with sense data.

Oh he hated it. He hated it bad.
Reliable information was a prized and touchy subject. At the same time, the ability to deny it to others was a delicious little cookie that he wanted access to. Alas. Useless Aeromancy was his poison. At least he’d Fly one day.

Sound returned. Tov had stood there with hands in his pockets. Looking around not bothering to talk or try and test it. Evidence aplenty. Plus he had some personal discomforts keeping him preoccupied. The threat was rather moot. It wasn’t the point.
Avalon was another non-teacher with the ‘my way or the high’ way vibe. Another example of strong-arming, another nail in the coffin.

Tov had a headache.

He was getting tired.

Not physically tired.

Willpower tired. It was all just too much of the same from the place he wanted nothing to do with, sans military. All that happened is a change of flavor.

Another ‘teacher’ took stand.

-

Oh. Janitor in a suit man. Sure. Could not be much worse than the par the field had set.
There had been no inspiring speeches so far, maybe he’d be pleasantly surprised.

Had there even been a shining light yet? No, forget shiny light. A candle. Something. An illuminant source of ‘it’s not as bad as it looks’ to keep holding onto.

Madison.
There was Madison.

The introduction was cut and dry enough. But of course for what purpose do hopes exist aside to be shattered. The pattern holds and actual despair set in at the words.
"Around this school is a force field, maintained and monitored at all times by entities within these halls."
"Any tampering with these force fields is a level five offense."

Cage.
They put everyone in a cage.
A cage with locked doors, barred hallways, strict militant lecturers and teachers, a school schedule with not a single common teaching topic on the list, where everything done not according to the jailors will was a punishable offense. What was it that had been said earlier?
”And absolutely unmerciful.”

Yeah. That.

Tover felt like misery.

This was a Military Academy or a Jail. Or Both. This wasn’t freedom. This was a concentration camp with a friendly name, shiny lights, and a cutesy reason for people to get tossed here. Aside from the other students he’d met this place was a copy of what he was trying to get away from.

His heart sank and eyes dulled. Fingertips buzzed as if his digits had fallen asleep. The feeling wormed along his arms and down his spine.

Another teacher. The show wasn’t done.
He was vague aware of his butt sinking back onto the luggage. When’d he get back here? Oh who cared.

-

Right. The asshat at breakfast. Already didn’t like h..where did he go. The theatrics were entirely unappreciated after that tirade of tyranny. Tover was on a mental edge and this was pushing his feet off. Avalon had made his brain ring with panic but this was just a bitch move.
You are to keep the use of magic down to a minimum while outside of class.
"If you witness misuse of any magic, or fall victim to it.”

Wow. He knew he disliked the guy, now he just had more reasons as Skylar vanished and reappeared in differing areas. Completely throwing off his already run ragged sense perception. Frenchie was doing exactly what he was telling the students not to do.
Why? Aside from rubbing the salt in. Professor Oliver vanished again.
Quit. Doing. That.

A pang of pain his the side of the front of Tov’s head. He didn’t want to be here anymore. His perception had faded, his head wasn’t dealing well with the slew of misinformation and he needed sleep. So. So much sleep to get over the utter cascade of new things that happened today.

It didn’t add up and his head was reeling. Was most of the staff military? Because he’d met military war-veteran teachers and they were nothing like this. What a member of his own family had said on the matter was still burned and hard-coded in his head, and that view was currently being challenged.

A war vet does not go "I own you, Pipe down, STFU and listen to me you dumb little babies."
A war vet goes "You are what my friends died to protect. You are what I suffered to keep alive. Your eyes are innocent and shiny and I hope to god I can do whatever it takes to keep them that way and get you ready for what's to come in a fashion that doesn't put you through the hell I had to go through. Because I wish that on no-one, and never will I ever treat you like anything less than the hope of my universe. I'm going to be tough on you. But I don't give a damn that I don't know you because asfar as I'm concerned the children of my fellows became my children too. Because they talked about how much they loved their kids, and then they died protecting them. I refuse to lose my humanity and not see that through for them, that is not only the least I can do, My heart wouldn't forgive me if I didn't see this through. The war is over, by -MY- war is not, and these kids are my redemption. I am fucked. I am broken. I have suffered. My future is gone and my Life is in shambles. I will never tell you to your face, but you are my everything."

The world just sort of.

Faded.

Madison spoke up.

The voice stood out.

The exact things she was saying were garbled, but enough of the basics got through for the general gist.

She’d asked for questions? He had them. But not the heart to go through with it right now. He just felt empty, and trapped, and cold right behind his sternum.

-

He was in the crowd during the tour of the facility. Tover looked, but didn’t see. Concentration didn’t really come back until he was face to door with the Tyto Alba family crest. An oddly simple carved nameplate was next to it, No Crest. Fox.

He’d been on autopilot most of the trip. Cyrus Fox had been the name in that list back there, he thought. It didn’t really occur to him that’s what the list had been for until he pushed the dorm door open.
Oh. Beds.

Tov just walked through, sat on one, and did the essential action of falling face first into the pillow.

They’d be summoned for lunch? Okay.
Naptime.

How are you getting through this Tov?


He didn’t much have an answer to his own question.

Did it matter if he got through it? Did others even see or feel the same thing he felt?

If they didn’t, then. Good for them to not have this bother.
If they did..

How would they get through it?
They’d need something to hold on to at the very least. Something positive.

Madison.
He mumbled into the pillow.

No, no it wasn’t going to be enough.
How does someone that feels they don’t matter get out of the hole.
You need a ladder?
Someone has to throw the ladder.
Person that throws the ladder also has to be something you want to go towards.
Something warm.
Something shiny.

I don’t matter.
But nobody else has to feel that way.
Not if I can do something about it.

What have you been doing all day tov?
You’ve been tossing ladders.
You tried something different and something new because you didn’t want things to be the way they always were.
People saw you. People categorized you.
Hell, two of the staff directly snapped at you because you were doing the very thing you believed was the right call.
Who cares if it wasn’t the choice –they- liked. It was the choice –you- are okay living with.

Make the choice that you can live with. Even if you don’t think much about the living bit right now.

There might be someone in the student body that’s a shiny light.
Someone to hold on to. Someone to see and go “I don’t got this, but he’s gonna catch me.”
I can’t take that chance and find out there is no-one.
So what are you doing Tov?

If there is nobody around to be a guiding light, I will kindle myself, and hope my dim flame brings a bright sun to bear.

If I can set the precedent, then even if I fail. Because I’m expecting to fail at so much while I’m here, as I just don’t know squat. If I can be the first push of the kindling, someone more capable will pick up the torch.

Get up Tov.
Get. Up.
Not from the bed.

You can’t take care of you as you are now.
You need help.
Be someone worth helping.

Just be you.
You can do this.

Light that torch.

Tover sat up after having ground his face amply into the pillow. If his eyes had gotten wet at all, the evidence would have been wiped. He took a stern, deep breath. Then two. Then Three.

His headache was still present. He still felt awful.
Day wasn’t over. More to do.


I have a roommate to meet.