Victor "the mallard" Miner's Story

“I’m afraid that questions will have to wait for now.” Striding out of the darkness, Madison pressed a button on the side of the projector, snuffing out the steadily wavering glow and leaving the library in complete darkness (save, of course, for the spotlights of students who had been fiddling with their phones throughout the presentation). The blackout remained for a few moments as the professor groped for the switch, and, upon finding it, a soft “click” rang out before light was restored- far stronger this time around, courtesy of the cone-shaped lamps scattered around the library.


Stepping away from the mammoth of a machine, Professor Lovette’s gaze once again cast down towards the watch around his wrist, then up again in order to properly meet his coworker’s eyes. “They’ve put us on a rather tight schedule, unfortunately- and, besides,” smiling, he turned towards the collected audience, “I’m sure that our students would like to get settled as soon as possible above anything else, if their restlessness is any indication.” Hands clasped, Madison strode to the library door, where he once again turned to face the gathering of teenagers- some who were just creeping out of childhood, faces still fresh and open, others with a brand new powdering of stubble across their jawline. All young in their own ways, and many sporting various shades of displeasure or bewilderment.


“Before we show you all to your dorms, however, we will take some time to properly show you around Marchand. While we are walking, feel free to ask Professor Farran about any of the blood wards scattered around the building- and thank you for your very gracious offer, Professor Farran- or any of us regarding any questions you may have in regards to the rules or such. We will be more than happy to respond.”


While that wasn’t entirely true, per se, the offer stood regardless.


After waiting for the crowd to once more gather their things and prepare to follow, Madison gave a slight nod to himself and stepped out, making his way down the hall. The corridor wasn’t really all too much to speak about- there was a bulletin board with a few flyers already tacked onto the cork; a trash can painted with stars and planets in a replication of space; posters with a variety of cheerful, encouraging messages; vending machines and water fountains. All things one would find in a “typical” school, and nothing particularly noteworthy. Nevertheless, Madison was not silent, chattering pleasantly as the group travelled.


“As most of you have already been to the office and cafeteria, I won’t bother reintroducing them to you- however, I would like to point out to those unaware that the office also serves as the location for the infirmary. In the event that anyone is injured, becomes sick, or anything of the sort, you are to report there as soon as you can, so our nurse can give you proper treatment. If, for any reason, the nurse is unavailable…” Upon reaching an intersection in the hall, Madison paused, tapped his finger against his bottom lip, then smiled and ushered the students down the right path.


“Sorry about that,” he hummed. “Had to decide which side to show you all first. Anyway, as I was saying, if our nurse is unavailable, keep in mind that all professors have first aid training. In addition, three of us- Professor Moore, Schippers, and myself- are accomplished Healers, so you may go to any of us for medical assistance if necessary.”


By the time he had finished speaking, Madison had led the little procession to a set of double doors, made from what seemed to be carefully polished mahogany. While it was difficult to properly see out to the other side, what with the glass being glazed over, it was still quite clear that it led outside.


“This is one of my favorite parts of campus.” Face bright with unrestrained eagerness, Madison swung both doors wide open and stepped out, moving to the side to allow the students a full view. “Welcome,” he said, “to the West Wing.”


The world beyond the door had been ripped straight out of a fairy tale, where the air was heavy with warmth and honeysuckle, and flowers were woven in thick lavender curtains. Directly outside was a covered wooden (this one being carved from walnut. It seemed that the Marchand builders had loved adding a more rustic feel to things) walkway, around eight feet wide and stretching around the entire diameter of the courtyard- for that’s exactly what it was, a courtyard, filled with life and dotted with the occasional statue here and there. The walkway had what seemed to be a fence around its border, as well, preventing a person from leaving wherever they wanted (unless, of course, they chose to vault over the fence for whatever reason). At the center of each side, the fence opened up in gothic archways, which led to a set of stairs down.


The steps themselves led to a stone-brick pathway, which went straight to the core of the yard, and intersected with the three other trails around a classic fountain. As Madison left the walkway and onto the path, more and more details became visible. Trees were dotted along both sides of the stone, from which the curtains- a tangle of wisteria and honeysuckle, that explained the smell- could dangle freely. Between the trees were simple granite benches, and, beyond them, one could spot several flower bushes, the occasional statue dotted here and there, and, on one side, even a small pond with a few lilies.


Above the entire garden was a large glass roof.


Madison came to a halt a few feet away from the fountain, where he only stood at first, face turned up to the sun. After a moment or so, he sighed- stretching his arms high above his head, then letting them fall back to his sides.


“Lovely day, too,” he noted. “I think we should take that as a good sign.” The Professor took another long, leisurely breath, then, contended, gestured to one side of the courtyard. “In the West Wing, you’ll be able to find the classrooms of Professors Moore, Schippers, Ulftern, Montana, and Oliver. The East Wing- which I will show you after touring the first floor of the gym- is where you can find the classes of Professor Kovalenko, Farran, myself, and Avalon. Professor Byrne teaches her courses in the school gymnasium, and you will find Professor Kovalenko teaching her Aquamancy courses there as well.” Madison paused, then added, “Well, more specifically, at the pool within the gymnasium. But we’ll get to that shortly.”


With a clap of his hands, the Pyromancer was off once again- heels pat-pattering along the flat stone, then the wood of the walkway, then stilling altogether as another door was swung open, kicking off the next part of the tour.


Compared with the compact nature of the library, and the detail put into the courtyard, the gymnasium seemed almost bleak in its openness. The walls were empty of any decor- save a few water fountains jutting out from the brick- and the floor was sterile, freshly waxed tile, with a few bright blue strips of tape marking certain positions and areas around the room.


“All of the equipment is put away for now,” Madison explained. “However, once classes begin, I assure you that there will be plenty more than there is now. To the left is the boy’s locker room, and the right is the girl’s. That door leads to storage, and the one over to the side leads to the East Wing.”


His hand lifted, pointing up to a balcony that, unlike the library’s before it, was not suspended. Instead, it was as if someone had taken the upper half of the walls, leaving a chunk that just so happened to also serve as a convenient passage about the gym. Like the library, however, it was lined with fence- metal instead of wood, but a fence nonetheless. Stairs led up to the opposing sides, then vanished high into the roof, tucked under the palate of some great creature’s maw.


“From the stairs, you can reach the common room, where you will be spending most of your time outside of class. The pool is on the roof, so we’ll take a look at that first to save time. Oh- but before we do, however…” Brushing off his blouse, Madison opened the next door- he had migrated some time during his little point-around- and peered outside. Unlike last time, he didn’t stamp outside, but it was still clear enough from a look that the East Wing was, while not identical, was fairly similar to the West in design. Instead of a stone path, however, it was completely brick. The trees were red maple, the benches were wood, and, filling the courtyard with their brilliant warmth, were hundreds of tulips the color of fire. They nodded lazily in the autumn breeze, politely greeting the new guests with the uttermost courtesy. Madison held the door open for a few minutes, allowing the students to get a proper look, before slowly pushing it back into place


“Let’s keep going,” Madison said gently.


The pool was in the same shape as the gymnasium itself- empty, save for the large pool in the middle, set up with markers at different points to mark depth, a few lights, and the safety equipment found in every pool in the world. What made up for the absence, however, was what could be considered the roof of the roof. Where the walls ended, glass began- thick, reinforced sheets that allowed you a magnificent view of the sky above. Madison preferred the place at night, himself, but said nothing about it as he started to usher the students back down the stairs. Couldn’t be planting any ideas in their heads, after all.


Then came the common room.


It was obvious that when the room was originally conceived, it was intended to be just as organized as the library was, the way the courtyards were- the rest of the building, really, that matter. The wallpaper was a deep, easy-on-the-eyes green, the floor a rich cherrywood. However, anything after that point is where any pretense of sanity left the room, hightailing it better pastures somewhere else.


A kinder person would call the decor charming.


Someone less so would call it hard on the eyes.


An interior decorator would have a heart attack on the spot three steps into the room.


No matter which category one fell into, it was obvious that the furniture didn’t quite sit well with itself. It clashed horribly in style and texture, quality and age. A plaque fastened to the nearest wall offered some kind of explanation for this atrocity.


“We here at Marchand give our sincere thanks
For the generous funding and donations
Provided by the families listed below.”

From there on, if one was well-versed enough in the identities of magical families- even a few- one could accurately place a name to the pieces, fitting together like some Frankenstein puzzle game. There was a set of furniture made from genuine animal fur and sinew, animal skulls glaring down at whoever dared to go near them, pelt rugs, and several tapestries bearing what appeared to be a sky wolf brawling a group of bears below- all of which were a dead ringer for the Norrevinters. There was a substantial amount of brand new luxury goods, ranging from couches that seemed far too expensive to even look at the wrong way, to a set of wall-mounted televisions, and even a few game systems. Sterlings, most likely. While the other families weren’t at all short on funds, the casual spending of donations told quite a bit.


There was a tired looking, recently stitched couch that smelled strongly of death and Febreeze, along with a scuffed up mini-table with a shrouded figurine of a woman sat upon it (a woman whose skull was bared, painted and grinning). Ciervos. A set of lap desks stacked up in the corner- Avalons- ,a set of leather seats, and a few polished tables and shelves. All of Italian make. Memoli. A pine writing desk and chair from the Pelacours, a pure white couch from the Moores. Another tapestry from the Magnaventus, starring numerous dead lineages.


The names went on and on, and with them, the differences in assortment. Notably, the Sterling and Norrevinter styles appeared to be the most numerous within the room, as if the families had gotten into a kind of quarrel over who could donate the most- which, given their histories together, didn’t seem all that out of place. It was unclear who won, exactly, but it seemed that that was the biggest source of the conflict in design.


“The common room,” Madison announced. “As I mentioned earlier, this is the area where you will be spending most of your time outside of class. You are welcome to use any object here during your free time, but please be careful with them. Everything here was donated to us, and it would be disrespectful to the families if you took their gifts for granted.” He gave a brief pause, allowing the words to properly sink in. The silence lasted for a few moments before he broke out in another smile, swiped a remote from the nearby table, and powered on one of the TVs. Upon the screen was “DORM INFORMATION” in bright font, followed by a list of names, and a variety of numbers to go along with them.


“As you might have guessed, the numbers mark the dorms you will be staying in throughout the semester. The name- or names, in a few cases- are your roommates. I would suggest that you get well-acquainted with them during your time here.


“The dorms are also marked by your families’ crest, but in the case you are unable to find where you are staying, please ask one of us- it’s our job to help you, after all.” Smile widening, Madison replaced the remote, and moved to the center of the room. “You’ll find the entrance to the girl’s dorms on the right, and the boy’s on the left, much like in the gymnasium. With that in mind,” Madison abruptly pulled a sheet of fabric from the wall, revealing lines of keys pinned beneath.


“Go get yourselves settled, everyone. Unpack, meet your roommates. We’ll come get you when it’s time for lunch.”

The morning, admittedly, could have been going better. Helena had missed out on breakfast, and, in her hesitation to assume that a seat had been reserved for her, she'd found herself perched awkwardly at the back as ne of the other students gave what she'd guessed to be her seat away to a late arrival.

Well it wasn't like she'd had very high expectations.

Helena then became aware of a presence next to her, and glanced over at the form of Azaziel Crowley.
Well, less becoming aware of it and more being a little surprised that he'd abruptly begun speaking to her out of nowhere.
Though he had a point that it maybe looked a little less weird.
Unless you counted the visual contrast between her and the young man.

She mostly remained in silence whilst he talked, something the guy himself didn't really seem to mind.
When he handed her a squashed pancake however social conditioning somewhat took over and she felt compelled to mumble a short "..oh..thank you." before grasping the thing.

It was shortly after that that Professor Kovalenko, who was walking discreetly along the side of the library, checking off names, zeroed in on the two.

"Crowley. Kingsley. We already covered the consequences for talking, didn't we?"

Helena quickly shut her mouth and sat grasping the slightly lint-y pancake for the remainder of the talk. She appreciated the gesture, but she wasn't sure if she really wanted to eat it after it'd been stuffed into Crowley's pocket.

It was for this reason she ended up carrying it around awkwardly for the majority of the tour.
Helena hung somewhere towards the back as they went around the school, paying very little attention to most of what was being said.
Right up to the time that they reached the common room, and were presented with the details of who they would be rooming with for the year.

Helena peered over, rubbing her eye for a moment as she struggled to make out her name on the list, and, indeed what name it had next to it.

"...um..Leila Michelle Ingram?"

--

Dinah meanwhile, was regarding the list with more of a level of a trepidation.
She didn't tend to keep up with the dubious world of mage family politics, but what she did know was some of the rumours surrounding the name 'Memoli'. Like they were some hardcore mobster types. She didn't really want a horse head in her bed. Or indeed anywhere. She kind of liked horses.

That said, maybe it was better to be rooming with someone shifty than somebody like the stick-up-ass Avalon kid. Ending up with a female version of him would cause serious problems. She did want to at least have some fun here, and you needed a roommate onside as it appeared most of the staff were like some educational secret police.

Dinah had spent the majority of the tour assigning nicknames to the staff members in her head.

Clint Eastwood
Snow Queen
Lucky Charms
Sex Ed
Gestapo
Sch-Sch-Schippers
Silverhead
Mr Shades
Pepe le Pew
And, currently leading the tour, Dude Looks Like a Lady.

Though that might have been too much of a mouthful.
Admittedly Lovette was doing a great job of pulling it off, Dinah was pretty sure he looked better in a skirt and heels than she did, and she was pretty sure most people hadn't caught on yet.

Dinah herself only did because she'd lived with some pretty colourful people in the numerous household she'd stayed in over the years.

While Dinah was left wondering who of the group was her new roommate, Cyrus already had a reasonable idea. Tover Book had already made his presence fairly clear when he took up it upon himself to welcome a new arrival mid-assembly.
Not that he really minded either way. Though Cyrus wasn't certain how he felt about someone compelled to 'fix things' around the place. All things considered he'd prefer a roommate who'd not get involved in his business. Not in the least because the teachers were a suspicious-looking bunch. He'd already made a mental note to look all of them up. It wasn't as if 'picked by the council' filled him with confidence, all things considered.

As far as Cyrus was concerned, the council of eight had far from an unblemished history.

---

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the school, Oren was on the hunt for something.

Or rather someone.

She flickered from shadow to shadow like a phantom. Appearing from one dark corner to scan the area before disappearing back into the gloom to check survey another with her raptor-gaze.

She'd been doing the attendance list, and one student was, as yet, unaccounted for. No attendance at assembly or on the tour, and no communication that he was otherwise waylaid. Which was only likely to mean one thing.

Soon, the Professor found her target, stepping out from behind a stone statue of a celebrated aeromancer and right behind the form of Victor.

"Miner I presume."
With an economical flick of the wrist she ticked the name off of her list.
"I would think, giving that we are on the first morning of the first day, that a student would do their best to make a good first impression upon the people who are going to be teaching them for the next year at least. With that in mind I'd have to assume that you had gotten lost on your way to the student's briefing, and that you were not stupid enough to begin your school career by deliberately skipping mandatory activities when it was obvious we would almost certainly be checking off names."

The teacher paused for a moment, her steely gaze flickering up to look the young man over.

"Unless I am mistaken, Miner?"

Looking about the obviously uninspired scenery Victor concluded that the powers that be must want the kids to think their in any other school. Ending up at an intersection Victor took the left path without much thought of consequence and he ended up in seemed to be some sort of memorial to great mages of the past, a momento to them presented in marble statues that easily stood ten feet tall yet weren’t even coming close to touching the literal glass ceiling. It was rather odd that a normal looking hallway would lead to such a place as the feeling of the two areas couldn’t be more the same. The hallway he was is seemed… bland, horribly bland, with various “Do good!” posters littering the hall aligned poorly with vending machines.The second section of hallway was nothing new, just more posters and vending machines and the occasional decorative trash can . He stopped to look at the walls separating the two However his time of mocking  the workmanship that was clearly demonstrated by the lazy yet persistent  attention to detail in the scenery was cut short, it seems the cavalry had arrived.  The cavalry in this case happening to be a shadow stepping individual who thinks it best to approach a student from behind, there’s a few questions… in fact many question that could be asked there. But right now all he has to do is keep a lid on it and think about who it is he’s dealing with, and of course he has to turn around.

It didn’t take a genius to figure that they’d have a mobility specialist such as a shadow stepping individual scouring the halls, even if his delinquency has ulterior motives it is very far from unique or so he hopes. It’d be kinda funny to think he was the only one that was A on the attendance list and yet B the only one who decided that taking a walk was worth while. Judging by the person’s voice behind him and her general wording and demeanor she was probably one of if not the hard ass of the school and more over she was the best possible outcome of this little event. This meant that she (again most likely) held no tolerance for intentional rule breaking and that her punishments were most likely severe. This served two purposes to him, he could pretend that this was indeed an accident and go with her to get everything sorted out and if she still felt like punishing him for being within an area he’s clearly not supposed to be in, he can Toughen up and deal with the punishment or in other words do some meaningless work to prove his resolve and get closer to the teacher. He doesn’t believe he can get her to like him, frankly he get’s the feeling that she’s not the kind to  like students but he can hopefully get on her good side, two very different things. Even if a teacher doesn’t like you they can still respect you and that means that they could possibly put in a good word for you from time to time.

With all that in mind it was time for move number one, turning around. The student shuffled around, slightly encumbered by his baggage and the tied up sword he kept carefully tucked under his right arm though still it felt unnatural, clunky, and awkward. What awaited him wasn’t exactly what he expected from a teacher but definitely a hard ass, and especially not someone to be trifled with. A steely gaze and her general radiance of malice was enough to confirm his suspicions but the duster and the gloves pretty much took the image and amplified it over and over again, badass isn’t normally something he’d call a teacher, but there’s an exception to every rule. His own appearance could be summarized as cloak and dagger. His gaze was definitely cold but in a seemingly harmless way as if he wasn’t angry yet still wasn’t enjoying himself. This poker face was something he prided himself in, and is one of the two things he practices regularly along side his magic. This emotionless state meant he could hide his intentions very well while learning about someone else. He met her gaze and gave her a innocent smile as he let her finish speaking.

“No,no,no you’re perfectly correct. I’ve never been very good with maps and well… I’m terribly lost” there are of course certain people it doesn’t work with. That would happen to be people who have an amazing poker face themselves or those who spend all day dealing with disobedient children all day. A child hasn’t fully grown, so being able to see the whole thing growing before you lets you in on the finer details and more importantly you’d be able to see what they can’t control. Not wanting to be caught by someone who knows how to properly read someone he switched tactics, hence the smile. Unfortunately even the perfect poker face has flaws ironically. He doesn’t beate around the bush, if this is going to work he needs to go in, no time to react, no time to see through his story “So, if you could of course, would you mind pointing me in the right direction? I’d hate to waste your time with pointless banter”. He gives a convincing enough performance that if someone weren’t paying attention he’d succeed but he’s testing her attention to detail so he leave one or two obvious hints. He lets his smile twitch for a split second and his eye follow suit shortly after giving her enough to call him out… barely enough.

He can’t let his train of thought end there, he has to be two, ten, a hundred steps ahead, he’s been raised for no less. He remembers weeks, months even of his father grooming him for such a situation, to always over analyze when he can, to leave nothing to chance. He can see from his seconds of time with her that she A takes no shit B is stronger than most people he knows (most) and C happens to be very similar to him… almost frighteningly so. Or is it the other way around? Is he like her, if he’s being perfectly truthful she’s been on this planet far longer than he has and their outward personalities seem close enough, he’s closed off and she’s mechanical, funny isn’t it ? However he’s going off on a tangent, he needs to stay focused, he needs to be clear headed, and most importantly he can’t give away more than he wants to

As he holds her gaze he does so without fear, something he’s learned from his father of all people is that you shouldn’t fear someone unless they’ve given you a solid reason. “Sticks and stones can break your bones but first you have to throw them”  another saying he’s fallen back on from his years spent with his father however a businessman with his hands stuck well into the carcass that’s the criminal underworld isn’t the best role model now is he? Speaking of which that reminds him, he needs to check the Domat in with someone doesn't he? “Actually… you wouldn’t happen to know where the master at arms, weapons teacher, or anyone who handles weapons  is would you? I believe i need to check this in with him” victor raised his right shoulder to elevate the five feet of mystery wrapped in scarlet silk he was carrying with his right, notched securely between his arm, his side, and the top of a suitcase. “I mean i understand that weapons aren’t usually allowed on school grounds depending on the school but this has significance within the family soooo… yeah” he then looked up at her hope in his eyes, just as fake as the smile but the were both damn good fakes. In reality he didn’t care but he has to do what he has to do.
With all he had to say said, he simply waits for her response it’s all he can do at the moment. Which may or may not be a good thing depending on the circumstances, she's right in assuming he’s not an idiot or else he would’ve run. The thought isn’t something he’d like to entertain, that would end badly… really badly and that’s where he leaves that thought for now. But this does give him the opportunity to resume to mentally mock the boring and pointless design of this school, why would you want to blend in with the crowd, this place is unique! He doesn’t take his eyes off of her to do this but uses his peripheral instead. He doesn’t dare drop her gaze, not out of fear but out of practice. Things in this world happen in instants, in little moments where you have to decide what you’re going to do and how you’re going to do it. If you’re too slow you’re left in the dust but there’s unfortunately also such a thing as being hasty. If you aren’t sure you’re making the right decision you might as well not do anything at all. For example victor could’ve just sat there in awe as he wasted the teacher’s time or conversely he could’ve ran without thinking both of which would end in his downfall in one way or another. So he made the decision to act like he’s a model student, it’s not hard, he can maybe learn a bit more than he did at the other three schools that is of course until he leaves.

Not thinking much of it he knew he wasn’t leaving her sight until he was with the herd so he got to work putting the folder away. He dropped the right suit case and knelt down next to it, from there he put the sword down and put his attention to opening the case, fiddling with each lock, putting in the two separate sets of three numbers as the locks clicked open. He did it with the numbers facing him instead of the teleporting shadow teacher just in case and carefully placed the folder on top of the clothes. He made sure not to ruin any the folds on the various shirts and pairs of pants as he put it away and closed it again. He brought that smile back when he looked back up her and stood up, grabbing his suitcases and sword in the same way he had it set up before, either suitcase in either hand and the sword once again trapped between his side and arm.

The thought was swept to the side earlier but… exactly does he have in common with this icy gazed badass of a teacher? Despite an outward appearance all that seemed to actually match was the glare/ glance they gave one another everything else seemed different. All of their little quirks and such seemed to be the result of very different environments that happened to result in two people who mistrusted others. Hopefully he was safe behind the mask he was wearing, and maybe… just maybe he could keep it secret. However for all he knows it could be as clear as day couldn’t it? The uncertainty was getting to him, silently eating at him like a wolf enjoying it’s well deserved kill, not that he’d let it show… he doesn’t let anything show… nothing real. That poses a question that deals with the depths of true morality and “real feelings” but where the hell is his mind going? “focus...Focus!...FOCUS!” he repeated in his mind over and over, each thought seeming louder to him in his head as it became the forefront of his thoughts, drowning out all the little things that didn’t have to deal with him, her, and the situation he’s in.

With the clutter getting filtered out slowly he could bring his mind back to the point of all this. “Ok...ok...ok.. Where was i? Right, learn all i can, join the herd… don’t mess up… simple enough.” and like that he was back to scheming, nothing going on without him going over it multiple times, like a mathematician going over his work endlessly to verify the correct answer to a problem. He wasn’t going to be unprepared… ever.