The Marchand School of Sorcery

A world of magic and mystery...

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a part of The Marchand School of Sorcery, by Miss Echo.

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Miss Echo holds sovereignty over A world of magic and mystery..., giving them the ability to make limited changes.
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VitaminHeart, ianna_334, and scoundrelboots are listed as curators, giving them final say over any conflict & the ability to clean up mistakes.

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A world of magic and mystery... is a part of The Marchand School of Sorcery.

37 Characters Here

Tover Book [59] Of course I noticed.
Jason Avalon [58] Perfect and I expect you to be too.
Tessa Botrelle [58] Bubbly
Leila Michelle Ingram [49] It's just Mitch
Larke Sterling [47] "Why work hard when you can work smart?"
Professor Oren Kovalenko [46] "Hope for the best, prepare for the scenario where an angry pyromancer attempts to melt your face."
Madison Lewis Lovette [44] "Nothing good ever came without a challenge."

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"This is very unusual."

Anahita Mkhrtchyan was not used to arriving first. Or second, for that matter. With respect to most things that could be arrived at-- dates, parties, dorm rooms, conclusions, the like-- Anahita generally arrived last, without even the shame to don some pretense of guilt for her tardiness. It was simply a fact of life. The sun rises in the east. The sky that was blue yesterday and remains blue today will be blue tomorrow, too. Most things aren't worth doing and even fewer are worth doing well. And Anahita is almost never on time. A tautology of life, if you will, one that she'd have suspected would be the bane of her instructors' existences had she the consideration to care.

And yet here she was, standing in her allotted dorm room, quite alone. Maybe that person stopped through and then left before I got here. No, she dispensed of that possibility in short order; the room was barren but for what she assumed were the base furnishings, absent any sign of luggage, any embellishments which might imply her roommate had dropped their belongings off before heading out again.

Oh well. She'd considered and set aside one possibility and in doing so had exhausted her capacity (and patience) for detective work. Whoever she was going to be sharing a living space with for the foreseeable future, she'd find out eventually. Heck, maybe they'd died or something on the way to Marchand. She'd get the place to herself, in that case. It was a nice thought. She amused herself with that prospect as she dragged her one ratty old suitcase over to what she had concluded was going to be her bed, a decision based primarily on the number of steps she'd have to take to reach it versus the one that happened to be farther away.

She didn't have a whole lot to unpack. Some clothes, whatever had been within reach about five minutes before she'd left for Marchand, a couple of spare pairs of aviators-- backups for the pair she was wearing now-- a couple of notebooks, a toothbrush... At least she thought she'd brought a toothbrush. Maybe it was stuffed somewhere amongst the clothes, which she'd left on a heaping pile on her bed. She'd probably find out when and if she ever summoned up the will to undertake the arduous ordeal of moving those clothes. Realistically speaking, she probably wouldn't--

"Hope no one saw that."

Oh, she wasn't alone anymore. Anahita blinked, setting the last notebook down on her bed and turning her head towards the door into the dorm. There was a young woman standing there-- how long she'd been there was anybody's guess; as far as Anahita was concerned she might have marched right past her on her way into the dorm room without noticing. Must've been her roommate. Her distinctly not dead roommate. I guess I don't have the place to myself, she mused, not quite disappointed and not quite pleased. But hey, might as well say hello, no?

"For what it's worth," Anahita drawled as she kicked her suitcase off to the side and stepped towards the door where the other woman stood. "Whatever it was, I didn't see it." She leaned against the wall beside the door and added, "Also, I'm Anahita. You must be..." In the interests of courtesy, she allocated an entire tenth of a second to the tragically doomed task of attempting to remember the other woman's name before she gave up and settled for for, "... my roommate."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Maeve Brigid Byrne Character Portrait: Derrick Arthur Avalon Character Portrait: Skylar Oliver Character Portrait: Jason Avalon Character Portrait: Madison Lewis Lovette Character Portrait: Larke Sterling Character Portrait: Roderic Alder Mayburry Montana Character Portrait: Jasmine Sayge Character Portrait: Percival Pelacour

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“Exactly what I was thinking, my good man.” Percival’s eyes were bright with good cheer as he reached forward and gave Jason a hearty smack on the shoulder. “Who knows- maybe some of us Council kids’ll end up rooming together, too! It’d be a real blast, amiright?”


After knowing Jason for several years at this point- what with their similar backgrounds forcing some level of interaction- Percival had developed a level of knowledge on just how to push the other’s buttons. It wasn’t necessarily an encyclopedia’s worth, but it was enough to satisfy the Pelacour for the time being. Flashing a toothy grin at both Jason and Jasmine, Percy cracked his neck, then sat back to watch the presentation.


It didn’t take long for him to make opinions on each of the Marchand educational staff. The professors were quite the characters, after all- half of them acting like the next Bryan Mills, and the other half being a mix of buddy-buddy, and nervous, “I hope they can’t smell weakness” rookies. They weren’t exactly the droning English teachers and morbidly (and ironically) obese fitness coaches of high school lore, which, in this case, could either be a bad thing, a really bad thing, or kind of funny in its own right. Percival was rather fond of the “all of the above” option in this case.


After the presentation concluded, Percival spent the moments others were collecting their bags in his seat, stretching his legs out under the table until they popped. So. His Primary was being taught by the Bryan Mills guy. Illumination was being taught by Mr. Omelette Du Fromage, Theory was with the one who Percival thought would belong more in a Disney movie than anything, Combat was with the angry lion lady, and History was with one Professor Avalon.


As far as professors went, he considered himself fairly lucky- especially in the face of some of the others. With a merry grin, Percival jumped from the table, and went to follow the rest of the students on the tour. Unlike others, the Pelacour held little wonder and awe at the sight of the courtyards- thinking it pretty, but nothing worth foaming about. He had some interest in the pool, but what really caught his eye was the common room. By all means, Percy wasn’t a modest person. It reflected in the complete eyesore that was his coat, the “freedom” he allowed his hair, the muchness of his personality. The garish decor of the room appealed to him. Spoke to him. Giving a nearby carving of some kind of gryffin-wolf-creature-thing a pat, he went to grab his key and give the roommate list a good scanning.


The grin returned, and Percy found himself biting back a laugh.


While it wasn’t Jason, his remark about Council kids rooming together hadn’t been wrong- there, besides his name, was Larke Sterling. Percival gave a slow, almost incredulous shake of his head, then went to find his dorm, spinning the key ring on his finger all the while.


It didn’t take long for him to find where he’d be staying the semester- it was one of the closest rooms to the entryway, after all. Lucky for ol’ Sterling, he thought. Just as the secretary had promised, Percival discovered his luggage right at the end of one of the beds, leaning precariously against the mattress. He didn’t waste much time in hefting the cases up onto his- it was his now, he decided- bed, popping it open, and strewing his belongings across the covers. There was his clothes, of course, his computer, a few games, the family rapier (would have to get that checked in, Percy mused), some toiletries, one of those smiling crap emoji pillows, a few posters…


As far as furnishings went, he was set, Percival thought, then began putting away his clothes in one of the wardrobes.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Anahita Mkhrtchyan Character Portrait: Elia Barron

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#, as written by Jag
In contrast to Anahita's relaxed, almost apathetic posture, every muscle in Elia's body seemingly went immediately rigid at the sudden realization she was no longer alone. She reacted by dragging her right foot in a fast motion to pivot her body, partially to face the face she's nto seen until now and partially out of an instinct to lower the profile presented to her target. Roommate. Whatever.

"I...err...hi." She stammered in response and she rubbed her hands to the outside of the biege suede zipper jacket set atop a pair of black denim jeans. After a moment, the young woman managed to compose herself.

"Elia. Barron." Voice was far more confident and clear now, icy eyes settling long enought to study the face and form before her. Not...not what she expected. Then again, bucking traditions and expectations was something Elia had made a life out of so far herself. Rebellion was a vastly underrated reaction in her book.

"Right. Your roommate. I was really glad to see that our room should be relatively blood sacrifice free as long as both stay in our lanes," she offered with the best disarming smile she could manage, thinking that the same time that they may be polar opposites. Elia was relatively tall and slender, Anahita was built like a fighter. One that Elia was pretty sure could kick her ass a moment's notice.

"So I guess we're just waiting around at this point? I don't really do waiting. At least not well."

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Anahita blinked as the woman busted out some kind of straight up kung fu shit and turned on her like they'd just stepped into the Octagon and were about to slug it out for the championship. Whoa, man, I come in peace, she wanted to assure the woman, if only because she seemed entirely too high-strung given the circumstances-- but then, everybody Anahita came across in life seemed too high strung given the circumstances. In Anahita's experience, the circumstances never merited more than the lowest of stringing. Lowest of strungness? Something to that effect.

"Yeah, don't sweat it," the shorter woman intoned-- she had a voice like tar, low and husky and not spared the effects of years and years of smoking; her accent was very much in evidence, betrayed in the crispness of her consonants and her mouth's clear defiance of the alien th diphthong. "I haven't blood sacrificed anybody in years. I mean, except for blood sacrificing the real Anahita Mkhrtchyan and assuming her identity so I could come here."

The joke-- was that considered a joke? Maybe she was supposed to flash a thumbs up and say 'jk' or something for it to be a joke-- didn't seem to chill her roommate out much, as she followed it up immediately with, "So I guess we're just waiting around at this point? I don't really do waiting. At least, not well."

Oh man, one of those types, eh? A doer, so to speak. The kind of people who've got to be doing something or driving towards something or working on something to feel at ease. Anahita tended to get along with those folks like Superman with kryptonite, but hey, that wasn't her fault. Anahita liked to think she got along with everybody. Wasn't no responsibility of hers if some folks kept expecting her to do crazy things like try. "I guess you're free to look around the premises, if you're so inclined," Anahita ventured with a shrug. "Or maybe go mingle. I might go 'n see if there's any nice secluded spots around to grab a smoke or a quick drink in between classes."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cyrus Fox Character Portrait: Tover Book

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Collaboration Post with @Vitaminheart

Tover in response to cyrus asking if he's alright:
"Probably not. That assembly was like. Being pushed off a cliff.”

Cyrus raised an eyebrow a little as he dropped down onto the bed next to his pack, tugging on a rather off-center zip until it finally gave way and he could get at his pack contents.
"Is it really that bad?"
"Kind of expected it personally.”


Tover just looked tired and like he got kicked.
That cyrus expected it surprised him, and the expression came to life on his face.
"I didn't expect that at all, and yes, that bad. Teachers care. The small military complex we just went through, save maybe three of them, probably don't.
What do you mean you expected this?
I thought this was going to be a nice socializing experience. I've been trying all day to help.
Don't think I'm doing that well with the glares I'm getting. “


Cyrus liberated a beaten-looking laptop and a small assortment of rather ancient-looking books from his pack, before flopping backward onto the bed. He'd spent about three days travelling over and it hadn't been especially comfortable.
"I mean I kind of expected the council to appoint a bunch of watchdogs. Got to guard their investment after all.”

Tover asked no questions about the stuff his roommate pulled from his pack.
Another time.
He grumbled a little.
"I guess? I'm still not exactly comfterable. I'll manage though, I'm pretty sure others are gonna have the shakes worse than I did. I'm trying to do what I can to be social, buuuuuut if you were here this morning you might have noticed I wasn't great at it. That applause is the only thing that saved me.”

"Yup, I saw." Cyrus replied, staring up at the ceiling.
"If nothing else you're pretty impressive in the sense that the ginger bear in clothes you confronted didn't punch you teeth out for telling her off.
Norrevinters aren't exactly known to respond well to diplomacy.
Else they'd not've been in a feud with another part of the council since the sixteen -hundreds.”


A minor pause came before the response.
"Okay then. Score one for luck. I had inclinations on who was who, but I'll figure it out. That's the part I'm good at. Thanks for the compliment I suppose? I do like my teeth.”
A smirk of repressed laughter appeared at the mention of ginger bear.
"Reminds me of that fire elemental combat teacher. Different but similar.”

"Byrne. Aero. Pretty sure I've heard the name somewhere, but can't think where." Cyrus mused as he lay there.
He'd read an awful lot on the events of the war in the course of his...study..but it was hard to keep track of all the different individuals involved.

He was pretty sure he remembered seeing it down somewhere in some level of notability.
"Somethign war-y, but then anyone could've told you that.”

Tover gave a light nod while sitting on his bed.
"Right.
"I've got her for Aeromancy, hard to tell with that hair.
Butt I'll not complain if it lets me get already a little control.
At the moment I can make a leaf twirl. Kind of.”

He sat up more.
Composing.
"Anyway.
I'm Tover.
The full name is Tover book, but it's not assigned to anything I'm fond of. So Tover or Tov or the like is just fine.”


"Cyrus.” the young man replied, with a short but notable pause before he added.
"Fox.”
Not everyone responded extremely positively to the name.
But it was going to come out at some point one way or another.
"No real nicknames. Anything my sister claims I'm commonly called is just something she made up.”

Tover's face didn't even flinch at the name, because to him it was nothing special. He was behind on history.
"Cool. Nice to meet the roommate.
Cyrus it is then? Or do people call you Fox?”


"Cyrus.” he replied, turning his head so as to properly regard his roommate.
"'Fox' doesn't exactly win you friends.”

Tover was surprised by the sudden directness. But okay.
Sensitive chords and all that.
"Nice to meet you Cyrus. I'll keep low on the last name thing with you too then, I don't like mine either.
It just... applies now and again. “

He rubbed his eyes for a moment
And took a quick breath.
"So, class choices?”

"Blood and tracking.” Cyrus responded.
"Probably. Don't feel too much need to switch out.
Other than I guess avoiding the scary western movie guy on tracking, but it's not like most of the secondary teachers are much better.”


An unpleasant withering squirm went over tov's back and shoulders.
"Not fond of the blood thing. Good luck with tracking. An always-GPS doesn't sound bad.
I've got Aeromancy.
Going for Levitation and Shadow Step.
I've always wanted to be fly and be mobile. Been cooped up a lot, and branching out is why I'm here. So the military wall from earlier really got to me.”

He tied his tie.
“Byrne.. I got her for atleast two classes. I will just fall in line when I can.
The levitation teacher. Oh we are going to have problems.
The shadow step teacher... well I already know she's icy.
Maybe warm food will help.
Oh.
I cook by the way.
Prefer pastries. But anything really.
So I will almost always be awake ridiculously Early.”


"Oh yeah, Kovalenko the bastard. “ Cyrus chuckled.
"I mean literally like. My great aunt used to talk about that whole shitstorm from time to time on awkward thanksgivings.”
He pushed himself up into a sitting pose in order to pull out a few T-shirts and another pair of faded jeans.
"I'm more of an up late kind of person, but it doesn't bother me. I spent the last three days travelling in close quarters with my younger sister. This is a considerable upgrade from what I'm used to.”

Tover shrugged.
"It's different. Not quite the different I was hoping for, but I can start pushing that way.
I tend to crash early, unless there's some sort of evening event or there's studies that need to be done. But I'm not expecting much.
No math. No English. No normal school topics whatsoever. Just military academy boot camp. Or so I feel.”


Cyrus shrugged.
"Again, more or less what I expected. Specially in light of the war. I assume they want the next generation up to scratch for the next time.”

A grand sigh left him as he fell back onto the bed. Atleast it was kind of cozy.
"We'll manage.
I don't feel like unpacking yet. Just waiting for the lunch Summons.
I just want to lay down.
War or not.
I'd prefer not.
If there's a repeat though..."
He points at the ceiling and rose his arm towards it.
"I'll be high up there, on the comms, telling people where to go to stay safe or win. That's the plan atleast.”


"Personally I plan to have nothing to do with it.” Cyrus replied.
"Don't really have any interest in putting my life on the line for the council of eight.”

Tov shrugged.
"Council. People in general. Kids and the like. Doesn't make a difference to me. If I can be responsible for one less person crying because they lost someone. That will mean the world to me.
Same at school.
Did you have a look around?
I've never seen so many people look out of place.
Kora was going to absolutely blow it making friends.
I'd rather get clocked than see it happen.
The new girl in the doorway during the meeting. No reason that couldn't be someone's friend right now.
It's the little things, and I'm powerless for most of it.
But if it makes a smile…”

Tover's hand in the air squeezed into a fist.
"Thats what I've got these for.”

Cyrus had started stuffing a few things into the drawer next to the bed. He only had a couple of sets of clothng, so it didn't take too long.
"Well if you want to have some kind of noble crusade, go ahead. Me personally I' just hoping to get through this year intact and get on with my life. “ he responded.
"'bout all you can hope for when your name is about as well-liked as herpes.”

His arm came down and he just laid on the bed. Feeling like he was deflating.
"Sounds like you're just looking out for good ol' number 1. It sounds like you've got a target on your back, so I won't make fuss. I also don't know the details, or the why. My Family's not on the council. I hope it gets better for you.”

"I don't think anyone is about to off me, Book.” Cyrus replied.
"There's just no-one here I feel any need to impress. Which is just as well. Mage establishment is rotten.”

"Not saying anyone was. I just.
I'm not going to judge.
This was chance two for me as well, I'm not gonna mess yours up just cuz. If something like teams of any kind come around, I'll remember to let you do your own thing though. I'll find other people.
I don't know much about mage society as a whole, I wasn't interested untill -now-.
Why do you say it is? Maybe some perspective would help.”


"Well my father is in prison and my mother in an institution.” Cyrus replied pretty casually as he flipped through one of the books.
"And it's the council's fault. From my perspective.”

Tov didn't quite know what to make of that.
"Hold on.
Dad in prison and your mother is... there. Okay. If you've got the council to blame then I can't say you've got no grounds for that. -Something- had you made that judgement call.
I'm not going to pry.
You share if you want.
I just..
The council I'm aware of wouldent just do that with no reason ?”


"I'd suggest you check up the full story yourself. Easy enough to find out." Cyrus replied.
"And then when you know that I could tell you what probably really happened.”


Tov rolled onto his back on the bed and just stared at the ceiling.
”Guess I have something to do later. First to lay down a little bit. Then unpacking and setting my end of the room up. You may not have brought much, but I sure did. Felt like I get sent on with half a house.”
Boxes worth of stuff were piled into his corner of the room. He didn’t want to even touch them yet. Some of them looked shoddily handled, like people were more than happy to throw his things out.
Tover took a second pillow and just draped it over his face.
 Nap time until summons.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Dawn Memoli

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Thick slabs of beef and boiled vegetables soaking in broth. Seeded rolls, made glowing under the headlights by a fine coat of butter, a small bowl of spiced chickpeas. A glass of (non-alcoholic, of course) mint julep stood nearby, standing watch over the rest of the meal. The real star of the show, however, was the slice of blueberry cheesecake sitting comfortably in its own dish. The food was rich- lavish, even, a testament to the sheer amount of funding that the school must have received- and Dawn immediately began to dig in after sitting down.

The dorm setup had passed without much event. She and her roommate, Dinah (Dawn recognized the last name, of course, but she chose to avoid any open recognition) had greeted each other, and Dawn had gone straight away to unpacking. Her belongings were simple enough- basic hygiene supplies, clothes, her laptop, and a few other personal things of hers that she had brought along- although she made sure to leave two items out in her tidying; her Bersa Thunder 380, and the ammo to go along with it. These were checked in as soon as Dawn had finished putting everything else away, and now sat respectively under her pillow and in a shoebox under her bed.

Much to her (relatively pleasant) surprise, despite the fact that breakfast had been quite the show, lunchtime had also been peaceful. The most noteworthy thing about it had been the food- which, like dinner, was incredible- and the arrival of a few more late students. Afterward, the teachers had once again began to shepherd them to their next events; in-depth presentations on the classes and Secondaries, in that order. The latter didn’t have too much effect on Dawn. Her mind had been long set on which magics she would go into, after all, the choices grilled into her brain through years of Memoli living. She did her best to appear as attentive as possible throughout, however, recalling how certain professors had quickly zeroed in on those whose attention wandered during the introductions. They had been ushered back into the cafeteria not too long after, and around her, Dawn watched the other students file in and grab their meals from the buffet tables set up against the wall.

She paused in her observations, breaking off a piece of roll and dipping it into the broth. The first day was almost over and done with, and classes would begin tomorrow. The best thing to do now was relax a bit, Dawn thought.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tover Book

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It had been quite busy after breakfast and pausing in the dorm rooms. Lunch wasn’t eventful so much as it was filled with overlapping conversations. Dinner was likely to be no different. Much like Breakfast Tov’s expectation was for people to almost fall over each other trying to socialize. The breakfast part had been a bit chilly near the end, but when things warmed up most all went well.

Lunch had just been a pleasant reprieve, and class introductions hadn’t gone terrible. As he’d Figured, Telekinesis was going to be his baby and Shadowstep the only seemingly worthwhile alternative. Although he was wishy washy on the idea so long as healing had appeal. Given that he’d picked to be pro-active rather than reactive, healing lost out to the class taught by Kovalenko.



He’d written himself a little set of notes per his classes.

Beast of a woman Byrne, 

Aeromancy.
General Combat Courses. 



Deathmarch Ulftern,
Telekinesis.

Calculating cold kill-bot Kovalenko,

Shadowstep.



Sitting on roughly the same patch of table as lunch, Tover was tapping the rubber eraser end of the pencil against his lips. Pondering on how to just get through this. Was just playing along the way to go? It was always a thing that he could have just been wrong about his first impressions.

Just give it a try and see what gives.



He scribbled that line in under the class schedule.
Maybe Byrne was alright as a Captain and we could actually learn something, there might be more to Ulftern, and Kovalenko might not be the decepticon he was thinking she was. So let’s just try it.


He closed his notebook with a bit of a sigh, sitting upright for an arms up high above the head stretch. Enough of that. Time for some socializing. That was the whole point of this anyway. The nerves of course took their moment to play part, but what was saying hi to someone in comparison to the precursor to today. 



Standing up, Tover had himself a look around. Notebook tucked under his arm and pressed to his side. Trying to find someone new to talk to, short conversation or otherwise.